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#reader edits the poem between chapters-
daemonoferror · 1 year
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Asgard's Bard- Part 1
Heimdall x gn! Reader
TW: Death, pain, blood, heimdall glaring at you being your only interaction.
Summary: Congrats! You died. And you got a promotion.
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The last you remember, a sense of true powerlessness fell over you, before a sharp, stinging pain rippled through your back. The world came to a halt, and your vision goes black.
What feels like only a moment later, your eyes snap open and you suck in a deep breath, like a drowned man taking in air for the first time in months. The pain in your back is replaced by an almost unbearable soreness, helped tremendously by the soft bed below you. You lay completely still, every bone in your body frozen, muscles tense in a state of flight or fight. Where are you? You don't recongize this bedroom. You rack your brain for an explanation that won't come, until a voice interrupts.
"Ah, you're back. Good." Too quickly, you sit up in bed, your back protesting. In the doorway of the room is a man. He's old with grey hair and an eyepatch. He's familiar, you think. From portraits and statues, but you don't want to make assumptions, and his build looks smaller- frailer than you imagined. "You have talent, it would've been a shame to lose something like this so soon." He brings your attention to a worn leather journal he was reading. Your journal. Your most valued possession, in the hands of someone else. Before you can act on the new found panic, the man chuckles and tosses the book to you. The short lived fear evaporates and you flip through it to make sure nothing was messed with.
"What's going on? Where am I?" You ask with shakey breath, looking back up at the man.
He shrugs, "Well, you died." He answers in a matter-of-fact tone. "But I brought you back. You're welcome."
"But... how?" The words don't settle as they should. You're too tired, too stunned to really understand. What does resonate is that the power the man possess if he's telling the truth comfirms your earlier suspicion is correct, "All-Father?"
"Yes, that is what they call me." The god says with a smile. It must be obvious after a short silence that you're not in a clear state of mind, so he continues, "Look, I know it's a lot to take in. Not every day you're brought back to life and meet a god, eh? Why don't you take some time. There's a water basin to wash your face, and a wardrobe full of clean clothes. Nicer than anything ya got in midgard, I promise. Once you're ready, come talk to me in my study. Just down the stairs, you can't miss it. Sound good?" You respond with a small nod. Being in the presence of a god has rendered you speechless, it seems. He claps his hands together, "Good" he hums, and walks away from the room.
You take a deep breath to ground yourself. You're really in Asgard. You just met a god. It seemed unbelievable, more likea dream than reality. At any moment you could wake up back in Midgard, in some rundown tavern with a pissed-off barkeeper tending to you because you drank too much. That sounds far more realistic than any of this. With a pained groan you slowly drop your legs off the side of the bed and stand up. You stretch as much as you can bare, slightly relieving your injured back. If this is a dream, this pain could've fooled you.
You have in mind to head to the wardrobe, but you pause to take the rest of the room . It's small, but you don't figure you'd need a big space. On the wall by the door, there's an array of instruments lined up, mostly string instruments you're familiar with, like a tagelharpa and rebec. A flute laid ontop of an overturned crate- which there were a lot of in the room, making it seem only half decorated. Some drums sat on the floor, though you had never played them as much as a lyre, which was the only instrument you couldn't be seen anywhere in the room. There's a desk pushed up against the wall opposite of the instruments, with a blank scroll open on it, and a crate full of more on the floor nearby. It's odd how the room seems almost designed for you.
You make your way to the wardrobe at the end of the room, in the middie of the wall. Throwing open the doors, you're met with an array of tunics, cloaks, fur coats, belts, gold jewelry, and more. You peel off your brown tunic, shoulders aching as your arms raise to lift it over your head. "What in Hel!" You yell, dropping the garment and stepping away. The entire back of the shirt is drenched in dark red, old blood. You reach behind you, clawing at what you can reach for an injury, or blood, or a scab. Besides the soreness you're already accustomed with, there's no other evidence of a wound. Odin's words repeat- you died. "How could I have-" your voice fades out. You died. You hear it in All-Father's nonchalant tone, and you feel like you're hearing it- actually understanding it for the first time. Things don't feel like a dream anymore, not even a nightmare. All at once everything feels too real. Your breath quickens, you sink to the floor and clutch your heart. Does it even beat anymore? Are you really alive? What does it mean to be brought back to life? You grapple with hundreds of questions, your mind spiraling.
Soon you remember the basin, and all you can think is how good the cold water would feel on your skin. You scramble to it and splash your face with water. It's refreshing and grounding, helps remind you to breathe. You stare into your reflection, hands on either side of the basin supporting your weight as you lean over it.
There's some small scars litter your face and upper neck, nothing bigger than a nick or a cat scratch, and they're hardily noticeable. The same scars are scattered across your hands too, if you look closely. You're relieved to see you don't look bad. Your skin isn't a different color, your eyes are the same. The scars are the only new addition. You don't remember how you got them, though. If you think about it, you realize you can't remember much of the weeks leading up to now. Maybe even months of your memory are gone. You know the important things- your name, your home, family and friends. You know you traveled a lot, reciting poetry and playing music anywhere that would pay you. But besides that blurry flash of pain, you can't remember much.
You stand up again and return to the dresser. The All-Father has requested to meet with you, and it's not something to take lightly. You know he would have an explanation and answers to your questions. You need to keep composure and stay focused to speak with him. You slip on a simple white tunic and pants- as simple as clothes get in Asgard, anyways, each garment adorned with golden embroidery. The clothes fit perfectly, and you try not to wonder how or why.
You shake off the nerves one last time before pushing open the door. Even though the lodge looks homey, it still makes you feel small. You're glad the hall is empty, keeping your focus on getting to the study without distractions. At the bottom of the stairs, the door is ajar, and you can hear Odin talking to someone inside. You knock on the door, with no response. You decided against waiting outside, anxious to get answers to your death and resurrection, and figuring if it were something important they could've shut the door properly. So you slip in, and await patiently by the entrance.
There's a man talking to Odin. You try not to eavesdrop but you pick up bits about an object Odin wants the man to get, and the man being reluctant to do so though he doesn't out right refuse. His dialect sounds much more sophisticated than most you meet, even Odin. He's facing away from you, but you still draw inspiration from his beauty. His golden hair woven in neat braids, the confidence in his posture, and the wit in his voice. You come to a simple conclusion that he seems nice, and would be a good subject for a poem.
Odin seems quickly annoyed with the boy though, and his expression brightens when he sees you. "Ah! There's my poet!" He stands from his desk, raising his arms to gesture to you. "Come in, please! Heimdall, you're dismissed, we'll continue this discussion later." He lowers his voice to address the man.
"But All-Father, I-" Heimdall starts, cut off by Odin, louder this time.
"Dismissed!" Heimdall doesn't protest this time, but it's clear he wants to. He turns on his heels and starts towards the door, his gaze locking with your's as he leaves. Even though he was clearly glaring at you with an unparalleled hatred, your mind sparks with analogies for the prettiest eyes you've ever witnessed. Like shimmering amythests in an otherwise baren cave.
"Ignore him. He doesn't do well with strangers." Odin says with an eyeroll, "he sees things for me, ya know." He mentions like a bad pun you're supposed to understand. Heimdall is familiar, though. You've heard stories of him- the keeper of Ghallerhorn and a protector of Asgard- but you never imagined he'd be like that. "Come, sit! We've got losts to talk about. You've had an eventful day afterall." You listen to All-Father, walking up to the desk and taking a seat. "I'm sure you've got questions. Hit me!" All-Father says confidently, and the way he talks both perplexes and comforts you. He acts too casual to be a god.
There's no better way to phrase it, you think after a moment of quiet as you try. "Am I really dead?" You finally ask.
The AllFather answers, "Don't sound so sad about it. You've been resurrected! A new lease on life." He tacks on, "And I assure you, there's no long lasting side effects. Some scars, yeah, and I'm sure you've noticed some soreness, but that'll heal as normal. Probably." All-Father thinks for a minute before adding, "Though immortality can be considered a side effect, I suppose I should mention that." He sounds like he's bragging to you. You've accepted a great offer, it sounds. Too bad you weren't conscious during the decision making.
"Immortality?" You repeat. It's so hard to speak to Odin. You would've expected his mannerisms to be so much different than he acts. He seems eccentric, he could talk to himself for hours if he wanted. He knows what people want to hear- or at least tries to guess- staying in a constant neutral zone so he appears likeable to a wider audience.
"Yeah, well. We all die someday." Odin says with a sigh and a shrug, "What's a few extra years, huh?" He chuckles, you force a smile. He must do this kind of thing often. It's strange to have someone so postive and confident in front of you while you're so uneasy about it all.
"May I ask, why did you bring me back?" You decide to ask, shifting in your chair. You trusted All-Father to do what's best for everyone- but you couldn't see how revising you could affect anyone but yourself.
"I heard of you. A talented poet and musician from Midgard, some even described you as a god. I wanted to see it for myself. I thought it was a real shame when I heard of your passing." Allfather explains with a shrug. While you knew people enjoyed your works- nothing could match the honor you felt walking into a tavern and hearing someone recite one of your poems- but you had never heard anyone refer to you as a god. You didn't think you were worthy of that title at all. The All-Father slowly stands up, and starts to pace behind the desk. "And I figured, entertainment is an important part of any society, wouldn't you think? Well Asgard may be lacking in that department. Fighting, training, drinking, and so on can only be fun for so long." He turns back and raises a hand to you. "Someone with your talent could really lighten up the place. I was hoping, maybe, you'd be interested in being a bard- the bard- of Asgard."
"What?" Was all you could say, completely stunned. You were a starving artist in midgard, no where near being Asgard matieral. You wondered if maybe during the gap in your memory you had improved drastically- if the height of your poetic talent died when you did.
"Well, it's just like you did in Midgard. Write your poems, sing your songs- inspire the people of Asgard. Though you might have to pander to your audience a bit, write about the gods, maybe help me with a few studies-" He nearly mumbles it, glossing over things that might be unsavory for you. He continues, "In return you can live here in the lodge." He shrugs, "I could pay you, but money won't have much value while you're here." He chuckles.
"And if I refuse?" You ask. You didn't think you could. You knew you couldn't. This just felt too good to be true. Odin resurrected the wrong poet or something. But you didn't think All-Father was capable of making such mistakes, was he?
"Then you can go back to Midgard and do whatever is you want to do there." Odin dismissively waves a hand at you. His tone is somewhere between indifference and disappointment. "Though I can't see much there for you now." He says it like it's a jab at you. You suppose he's right. Midgard is no place to live right now. Your job barely made ends meet no matter how good you were. And what would your friends and family think of all this? Did they know you died?
Even if you don't feel worthy, the cushy lifestyle is something that's impossible to give up once it's offered. You nod sagely and stand up, outstretching an arm to Odin. "Yeah. I accept." You smile softly and nervously.
Odin's mood is instantly lifted as he shakes your forearm, "Wonderful!" He laughs and walks around the desk to you. "Say, why don't I bring you on a tour of Asgard, show you around?"
"That'd be great." You say, following him to the door. You'd hate to get lost in the new realm, and you're eager to see what inspiration you can pull from Asgard. A series of panicked squawks From behind startles you and makes you jump. One of Odin's ravens sits on a wooden stand nearby, flapping its wings. You glare at the creature, and All-Father seems equally annoyed.
"Huginn, what have I told you about sneaking up on me like that!" The bird answers with more squawks, "What? What do you want! What is it you blasted bird!" Odin huffs in annoyance, seemingly letting the bird talk for a while, "Uh huh. Uh huh. I understand." He says half heartedly, and you wonder if he actually understands what it's saying or is just responding to comfort the animal. "Yes, I get it. I said I know!" He turns back to you with a heavy sigh, "I'm truly sorry, something's just come up that I gotta sort out."
"I understand. I can wait for you to get back-" You suggest, though you really don't want to, and would probably sneak off within minutes due to boredom anyways.
"No, no, I'm sure you'll make do on you're own. Explore a bit, make friends. Just don't wander to far alright? And try not to die again, eh?" Odin chuckles, though the words catch you off guard. You're almost offended by joke.
"Allfather, do you know how I died?" You blurt while you're on the subject, realizing you meant to ask earlier.
Odin hums and answers, "It's better not to think about thar, child." His tone is sympathetic, and with a sigh you realize he's probably right. Nothing would change by knowing. A flock of ravens surround Odin, and when they disappear, so does he.
You sigh and leave the room feeling defeated. You quickly find a room upstairs similar to a cafeteria. A few people are scattered around the long tables, talking, eating, and drinking. The murmurs are familiar to you, and you set your journal down at an empty corner of the table. You're used to writing in noisy taverns, but you don't feel like walking far and getting lost.
Your thoughts returned to Heimdall as you prepare to write. You know with your new position you'll have to write in a more formal structure soon, but for now you focus on scribbling down whatever comes to mind.
"He is crafted from wealth
His brilliant eyes were carved from shimmering amythests
And gifted to show one's truest intent
The one with golden teeth speaks
With a tone of eloquence
His blonde hair in intricately woven braids
Similar to engravings on a well-loved bow
A protector of Asgard,
He is truly priceless."
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soleilceirinen · 6 months
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Renaissance | teacher!Cillian Murphy x fem!Reader - Part 8
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Summary: you are an Art History student in your last year at university. Cillian is your teacher. A/N: in this story Cillian is about 20 years older than the reader. Everything happens in an alternative universe where he is not an actor or famous, he doesn't have a wife or kids like in real life. Warning: this is my first attempt at writing smut, so read with that in mind. It is at the end, if you are a minor I don't think you should read it. Also, English is not my first language, sorry if there are mistakes. Part 7 - Cillian Murphy Masterlist
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After your talk with Cillian, things turned back to normal. At the end of the week you finally found some free time to spend rummaging through the different stalls at the charity book market. It was a little overwhelming due to the number of other people who, like you, were looking for the perfect book added to the lack of order in how the books were distributed. You could find a recipe book next to an out of print edition of the Punic War history. 
After going around several times, you finally found what you were looking for. You delicately held the copy, it was an old dictionary of artistic terms. 
“I’m ready,” you commented, “have you found anything?”
Cillian had been by your side the entire time, watching in admiration as your face lit up every time you saw a book that caught your eye, or how you ran your finger over the covers while reading the titles. 
He held up a small collection of poems for you to see. You did the same with your dictionary. 
“May I take a look at it?”, he asked.
As you were giving him the book you felt a strong push and saw a man stand between you and Cillian. Ready to reproach him for his lack of manners, you were left speechless when you realised that he was Brad, your roommate. “Hi, Brad.”
“Are you going home now? Let's go together,” he grabbed your arm, making you wince in pain. 
“Wait Brad, I’m not done yet.”
“Y/N,” called Cillian staring at Brad, “is everything alright here?”
Brad looked him over from head to toe before turning his attention back to you. He rolled his eyes scoffing at Cillian. A wave of disgust washed over you, you met Cillian's gaze over Brad's shoulder, silently begging him to get you out of there. 
“We should go back to the office, we still have a chapter to review in your project,” he said, stepping closer to you. 
You nodded. “It’s true, I had forgotten. Sorry, Brad. I have to go.”
“It’s okay, I’ll wait for you.”
“Afterwards I will meet up with Valerie so I don’t know when I’ll finish, you can go now.” 
Valerie couldn't stand Brad, the advantage was that the feeling was mutual. He gave you and Cillian one last annoyed look and let you go. You took the opportunity to run towards the office building with Cillian following you under the gaze of your roommate. Once inside his office, Cillian locked the door and sat on the edge of his desk. You stared out the window, from where you could see Brad looking up, probably trying to figure out which unit you were in. 
“He looks at you like you are a piece of meat, I don’t like it.”
You turned around to look at Cillian, who extended his arm to give you the dictionary.  When you picked up the book, he took the opportunity to gently pull you until you were in the space between his legs. 
“My friend Valerie thinks the same,” you told him. He wrapped you in a hug, tracing different shapes on your back with his fingertips.
“Are you really going to see her?” he wondered, tilting his head to the side. 
“No,” you shook your head against his shoulder, smelling his scent. “I totally made that up. Why?”
Being practically leaning against his chest, you could feel his heart beating rapidly. “We could go on a date, tomorrow is Saturday so if you want, you can stay at my house.” 
"Okay, sounds good." You said, caressing his cheek. You noticed that he hadn't shaved that day since his face was a bit rough, you scratched it with your fingernails before giving him a peck on the lips. 
Cillian had his eyes closed, he was focused on your touch. Slowly, he opened them and cleared his throat. “We should go now, I have to stop at the grocery store to get some things before it closes.”
-
At the grocery store, you pushed the shopping cart through the aisles, following Cillian, who from time to time stopped to pick up ingredients for dinner and placed them in the cart. Everything was going well until you got distracted. You didn't realise that Cillian had stopped so you continued pushing the cart until you crashed into him.
“Oh my… Sorry! Did I hurt you?”
He pursed his lips and gripped the edge of the car, looking at you with wide eyes.
“It’s fine, Y/N. Why don’t you go and choose some ice cream that you like? I’ll be in charge of the shopping cart, alright?”
Reluctantly, you let go of the cart and walked to the frozen food aisle, looking for the ice cream. Luckily, your favourite flavour wasn't sold out so you grabbed a tub and headed back to Cillian. He was already at the checkout putting the groceries in bags. After adding the ice cream and paying, he tried to carry all the bags by himself.
“Wait, old man. I’ll help you.”
He chuckled and pointed to one of the bags. “You can carry that one.” 
You already felt bad for almost leaving him crippled with the shopping cart, but at least he didn’t refuse you helping him. 
-
“I think you’re going to get a bruise,” you stated while taking the grocery out of the bags. 
Cillian had disappeared somewhere in his house, leaving you in the kitchen with a very excited Scout. He reappeared in the kitchen, having changed his clothes into something more comfortable.
“I left some clothes for you on the bed in the guest room in case you want to change, they shrunk the last time I put them in the dryer so they may not be too big for you,” he told you. Then, he pulled down the waistband of his pants to show you an incipient bruise. “Already here.”
“I feel terrible, but I must admit it was funny.”
He rolled his eyes, though he wasn't really upset. You giggled and went to change as he had suggested. 
He left you a basic black t-shirt and some gym shorts. Although they seemed to have been shrunk for him to wear them, they looked huge on you. You decided to discard the pants since the shirt covered enough, like a short dress.
You returned to the kitchen. Cillian was making a homemade pizza, when he saw you he pointed to one of the glasses on the counter. “Do you fancy some wine?”
“Always,” you took a sip, enjoying the fruity flavour. Cillian smiled and gave you a piece of carrot. You looked at it and then back at Cillian. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“You can eat it if you want but better if you give it to Scout. Tell him to sit down and give you the paw.”
So you played with Scout and talked to Cillian until the pizza was ready to come out of the oven. After dinner, you and Cillian sat on the couch to watch a movie. You chose it so it was one of your favourite ones, despite having seen it too many times, you would never get tired of it. The leading actor was a very young Alain Delon, whose blue eyes could only be compared to those of the man sitting next to you. 
After several minutes, you realised that Cillian wasn't watching the movie. Even though the living room was illuminated only by the light coming from the television, out of the corner of your eye you noticed him staring at you.
You looked back at him and whispered. “You’re missing the film.”
“I’m truly not seeing it,” he responded with a hoarse voice. He caressed your cheek and placed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You rested your cheek against the palm of his hand and moved closer to him. 
In seconds, the film became background noise. All your attention was on Cillian, on his hands running over your body and his lips on yours. 
You kissed slowly but intensely, enjoying every bit of it. Cillian leaned over you without breaking the kiss, his breathing getting faster. You held his face with your hands, slowly scratching his stubble with your nails. You moved your hips trying to get some friction against his crotch, he tentatively put a hand under your shirt, stopping when it brushed against your bare belly.
“Why do you stop?” you groaned. 
“Are you sure of it, Y/N?” 
Cillian was giving you the chance to stop in case you were uncomfortable, and at that moment his thoughtfulness filled your chest with love. No one had ever cared about you in that way before. 
“Yeah, I haven't been so sure about something before.”
You placed a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him closer to you, crashing your lips once more. His hand continued its way up until he grabbed your tit, squeezing it a couple of times before brushing the nipple. You let out a moan against his mouth.
“Let me make you feel good, okay?” his voice wasn’t louder than a whisper, you nodded eagerly. 
Cillian slid his hands down your waist until he touched the hem of your underwear. He gently moved the fabric aside and with the tip of his fingers, he brushed your clit with quick movements making you let out a gasp. It was much better than when you did it yourself. 
“More?”
“Yes, Cillian, yes. I need…”
He kissed your exposed neck and parted your folds to access your inside, first with one finger until you were stretched enough to introduce another one. He moved them in and out several times, continuing to rub your clit in circles with the pad of his thumb. You were starting to feel the pressure building in your lower belly, so you grabbed onto his shoulders and moved your hips in an attempt to accentuate the feeling.
Cillian caught the signals and at that moment he bent his fingers to press on the exact spot while rubbing your clit faster. You arched your back, feeling the orgasm spread throughout your body, until you lay limp on the couch with Cillian on top of you.
He leaned on his forearms so as not to crush you with his weight and gently brushed his lips against your collarbone. You grabbed onto him panting, even though he was trying not to lean on you too much, you noticed that he was hard.
“Now it’s your turn, Cill,” you said softly, caressing his hair. 
He shook his head. “Another time. Promised. Plus, I wanted you to feel good.” 
You kissed him tenderly, feeling like a fucking goddess with soaked panties and the warmth of his body against yours reminding you that it was real, that your teacher had made you cum with barely no effort. You needed nothing else to know that you loved him with every bit of your soul. 
Hugging him tightly, you whispered three words in his ear.
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vellaphoria · 4 months
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Hi! For the writer's ask game: 25, 27, and 29 :) Also, I reread Midnight Elegy recently and it's even better then I remembered!
Hello!! :D as;lkdjfa;skldjls I'm glad you enjoyed it enough to reread it! I had such a good time writing that one. Thank you for the incredibly kind words! <3
Answers below the cut:
25. What fic do you wish you got more of a response on? Gethsemane in Winter, probably For context, at one point I wrote a DickTim Earth-3 series because there was a very specific interpretation of the concept that I desperately wanted to read but that didn't exist. So I set out to write it myself, knowing that it probably wouldn't get too much attention, given the number of (accurate) warning tags I slapped on it. I worked hard on it and am proud of the result, but there's still a bit of wistfulness about it because of the nature of incredibly niche things.
Though if anyone is curious enough to look at the part of the map labeled here be dragons, then the series is A Fact or a Weapon, which comes from a wonderfully haunting (and apt, for the fic) line from the poem "We are Hard" by Margaret Atwood:
A truth should exist, it should not be used like this. If I love you
is that a fact or a weapon?
27. What is your most and least favorite part of writing?
My most favorite part is writing descriptions! I tend to be a visual thinker, so I spend a fair amount of time thinking about where things are in a scene, how they would look, and how to describe things in a way that builds the sort of atmosphere I'm going for.
My least favorite part is writing transitions between scenes. I tend to over-write them and draw things out that aren't important to the plot (one reason why everything I write spirals out of control lol). Sometimes it's hard for me to know when it's best to put a scene break in vs. when to do an actual transition via text.
29. What’s your revision or editing process like?
I tend to go chapter by chapter for multi-chapter fics. My first goal is to get the thing written, so I try not to commit to serious revisions unless there's some sort of overarching problem with what I've got.
Revisions start once I have a mostly finished rough draft of a chapter. At that point, I read through it to make sure that I'm not missing anything and then send it to my beta reader so that they can give me a general vibe check (i.e. does it make sense, does it flow right, is the tone consistent/does it work for the fic, spelling and grammar, etc.). They also do a lot of cheerleading which really gets me through a lot of the tougher parts of writing <3 After I have the beta-approved version, I do another pass through for spelling and grammar and probably tweak some things. If it's a chapter, then it probably sits for a bit while I work on other parts of the fic. If it's a oneshot, then I format it for Ao3 and finalize the title and tags that I'm using before posting.
There's also a secret step where sometimes I don't like what I have, so I tear it up and recycle the parts into other things lol (questions are from this list)
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yellow-yarrow · 3 months
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3 & 9 for books 📕👀
3. What were your top five books of the year?
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Sacred and terrible air by Robert Kurvitz (Group Ibex translation) The Disco Elysium novel! I read it like 3 times. I'd recommend it to people who already know about de's lore
Erich Mühsam: Liberating ​Society from the State and Other Writings - translated and edited by Gabriel Kuhn A surprisingly very enjoyable read! Excerpts from Erich Mühsam's diaries and political writings. He was a German anarchist who wrote about women's and gay rights, "free love", communism and anarchy, among other things. He tried to work with various leftist organizations, played a key role in the Bavarian Soviet Republic. He was murdered in a concentration camp by the nazis. The book also writes about his relationships with his family, lovers and friends.
The Sorrow of Angels by Jón Kalman Stafánsson This is the second novel of a trilogy, it takes place in Icelandic fishing villages, nothing big happens, but the novel spends a lot of time introducing all kinds of interesting characters and the relationships between them to the reader, which I'm a fan of. It's also very poetic and a little bit philosophical, it's almost corny but it never crosses that line. The plot of the first book begins with a fisherman and his friend who dies because of a poem, the second book is about the main character finding a new home in another village. I haven't finished this one cause the whole trilogy is like 2800 pages long.
Jan Otčenášek: Občan Brych (Citizen Brych) A Czech novel I picked up almost randomly from a free library we have here. Similarly to the Icelandic one, the main focus is on the personalities, thoughts and feelings of the characters. The story begins in the occupied Czechoslovakia, and other scenes take place around February 1948. (I haven't finished this one yet either)
Romano Rácz Sándor: Cigány sor (Gipsy row) It's an autobiographical novel of a Hungarian Romani writer, with the goal of explaining the Romani point of view and customs to non-romani readers. It was a pretty short but very enjoyable and informative read.
9.Did you get into any new genres?
I tried reading some fantasy but as usually I couldn't really get into it. I read a few chapters of two Discworld books, and they are really good but, idk, it seems like I'm not in the mood these days for fantasy. But I've read a lot more (auto)biographical books than I usually do!
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frostironfudge · 1 year
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Silhouettes In the Spotlight - Bucky Barnes - Five
Summary: Bucky Barnes has worked immensely hard to have a filmography expanding across genres and garnering accolades from critics, peers and fans. Y/N Y/L/N, with her debut novel (fan-fiction turned New York Times Bestseller) has two other best sellers under her belt. Next is her highly anticipated fourth book lined up for release. SHEILD Productions has acquired the film rights to her debut novel and they want Bucky Barnes to play the lead (aka himself) by any means necessary. This story is about angst, lust, heartbreak, and love. After all fairytales only exist in books and movies right?
Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, protective bucky, miscommunication, anxiety, overwhelming emotions, loki and sam are good bros, fat shaming comments, steve is an ass, bucky being bucky, also it seems i cannot stop using the neighbourhood songs for a bucky x reader pairing song mentioned in the latter half of the chapter is softcore, lyrics are in italics. incase i have missed anything please let me know
Pairing: Actor!Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Fem!Reader
Word Count: 5k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics
Main Masterlist || Fic Masterlist || AO3
Chapter Four || Chapter Six
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HEADLINES:
Eagle Eyed Fans Spot Y/N’s SOLD OUT Hardcover Limited Edition Novel On Bucky Barnes’ Desk. 
Steve Rogers Follows and Comments On Y/N’s Latest Post — Are They Going To Pen Something Down Together? 
Bucky Barnes and Loki Laufeyson Spotted Arguing At Rooftop Bar. 
Dolores and Steve Rogers Get Cozy At A Socialite’s App Launch. 
Y/N Shares Poems With The World. Is She Leaving Fiction? Fans Speculate Book Four Might Include Poetry. 
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Bucky was going to lose his mind. He already bent two forks. Loki was deeply sighing and then winced as he heard Steve’s clawing guffaw. 
“Why is she with him?” Sam verbalises Bucky’s entire thought process for the past half hour. You haven’t seen the three of them yet and Bucky watches as you don’t touch much of your food over the conversation. They can’t hear anything apart from Steve either laughing or talking on his phone mid conversation. It had been about two weeks since they last saw you at the SHEILD announcement. 
Bucky stares at his phone, it had been three days since he had emailed you to try and clear the air you had refused to respond to calls, texts or Instagram DMs. 
The way he spoke still stung you. He couldn’t blame you. He wanted to apologise make things right. 
You only extended your communication to offer expertise for giving him a breakdown of his character, which he knew he did require but only after the script read would it be heavily needed by him. 
Loki had tried to speak to you as well but you had politely declined to discuss anything other than helping him understand his character. He had tried but in vain to have you understand that he genuinely wanted a friendship. Ultimately, Loki decided to give you your space, it didn’t mean he did not get mad at Buck. 
Sam had decided to keep in touch via Yelena, she became the point of contact which you appreciated. The topics never strayed from work on occasion Sam would speak to you personally but never pushed for anything that was uncomfortable. 
One evening he did ask you if you would like to meet Bucky again at Winnie’s Nook. He knew your answer would be a no, but when he relayed the message Bucky’s face had fallen. Sam only seemed more disappointed in him.
Tonight’s dinner was a joint effort at trying to come up with a plan to make things right with you. However seeing Bucky react to Steve and you being together, Loki and Sam exchanged glances that the plan would have to be fast tracked.
You look at Steve as he speaks on the phone for the umpteenth time. Keeping your cool you push around the remaining food on the plate. Most of your appetite lost after his passing comment on the small portion size and if it would suffice for you. The restaurant is much different than Winnie’s Nook, it lacked the warmth. It even lacked a view. 
This place was a cross between ridiculously expensive looking and filled by what you can only assume a whose who of various illustrious careers.
It was a shame, you stare at your plate, the dish was good. You take a few bites trying to shove away thoughts as Steve looks towards the side yapping away. You wonder if he even requires this meeting. He had formulated an opinion on your character publicly. You bite the inside of your cheek as he cuts the call. 
“Sorry about that, you know how things in Hollywood get, ah sorry first big break of yours,” he grins looking at you, “Now, why would you create such a weak ass character?” 
“I prefer calculative to describe him.” You defend, don’t stab him with your spoon, don’t stab him with your spoon. You chant.
Steve smirks, “Oh Sweetheart,”
You have to hide your disgust at the irritating nickname. 
“I’ve written a book too, I know weak characters intimately. Rhys is another story of weak but my character oh he suffers.” He chuckles. 
“I believe you’ve written about actual people and yourself, so how can you comment if someone is weak? If they aren’t fictional? I’ve written three books.” You raise a brow, his smirk falls. 
Stab him with your words, you think. How dare he slander Rhys. He’s your comfort character. Probably the favourite one you ever wrote.
“You know a weak man when you see one.” He shrugs, taking a bite of his steak, “Tell me, why did you remove me from the book and condense the character?” He demands, lips pulled back into a grimace. So he read the forums and probably your blog.
“Are you upset? Or are you worried, I will see the real you? Given how, one knows the strength capabilities by looking at someone.” You chuckle at his logic. 
“Merely curious, sweetheart. Humour me, I’ve bought you dinner, gotten you to a nice place. You must have had scarce experiences as such.” Steve shrugs giving you a once over. He already had the nerve in his palm He wasn’t afraid to pinch it to cause pain or discomfort.
“Mr. Rogers—,”
“Steve, sweetheart.” He chastises, a glimmer in his eyes and you wonder for a moment if he’s playing a part trying to get under your skin or if this is his truth. 
These Hollywood men are messing with your head. 
Why do they need to put on a goddamn show every waking moment?
Stormy blue eyes appear at the forefront of your mind. Fuck.
“Steve.” You don’t stop your eye-roll at his smug expression,
“About your to be played character, Beckham. I can assist you. However, the decisions taken to edit my book, belonged to me without influence, the only time you were associated was when the book was a fan-fiction, a character I built with your face and name. You’ve worked in enough movies to know how disclaimers work correct?” 
“So you didn’t remove me because of what I allegedly did to your precious, Mr. Barnes?” He leans forward, chin resting on his intertwined hands intrigued. 
“Pray tell Steve, is this guilt? For playing Beckham it isn’t a good look he doesn’t feel remorse. If you even have to consider I cut you off, you know that you were wrong somewhere.” You rest your chin on your palm.
His nostrils flare, eyes narrowing in the slightest, for a moment you feel smug. Smug that you broke through this front he puts on, but then his smirk returns. 
A character he plays for himself then, you deem. All of them never genuine, you were learning the lesson easier now. You glance back down at the plate, contemplating.
Steve knows Bucky is watching, he knows you don’t know about the entourage with the way you’re seated. Secluded but not really cut off from anyone knowing what you look like, Steve chuckles again, you’re a feisty little thing. 
It’s unexpected and with the way Bucky Barnes’ trademark glare is trained on Steve. He knows you are of some importance to his former best friend. His manager was right, you were going to be an important string to pursue, he just needed to have you wrapped around him not Bucky. 
You stare at Steve, unwilling to back down now, he may have said things but you couldn’t succumb. So what if you decided to cut him off? He has no right to be pissed or affected. 
You want to tell him off. It isn’t your battle or your war. You know you’re just a spectator on the sidelines.
Yet it somehow felt slowly you were walking eyes closed onto the crossroads.
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Bucky bends yet another fork. 
“Stop holding it in your left hand.” Sam grumbles. 
Bucky takes the fork from Sam and bends it with his non bionic fingers and hands it back. 
Loki purses his lips, but the laugh breaks out at Bucky’s childishness and Sam’s ire over the cutlery. 
Bucky returns the cutlery to their unbent former glory. He also makes sure to leave a hefty tip. 
“Why don’t you just go over and apologise?” Loki offers his best friend. 
“Because she won’t give me a chance to do so, I’ve fucked up enough.” Bucky huffs, looking up at the wrong time because Steve is reaching to tuck your hair back. He notices you shy away, moving back in your seat. 
Worry pools in his stomach, he doesn’t trust Steve Rogers, not anymore. 
Dinner comes to an end for you and Steve, he diverts the topic to his current character and asks questions about what you would like him to bring to the table. You tell him you wrote the character like a chameleon, ever changing, self serving and has something up his sleeve always. 
Steve walks with you towards the exit just as Bucky, Loki and Sam begin their way out. 
You stay back as the door swings open as Steve moves on ahead, rendering you to bump into Bucky. 
His hand reaches out to grab your arm to steady you.
“I’m so sorry—,” You look up at the person confused, “Mr. Barnes?” 
Bucky gives you a soft smile, “Hey.” He says before letting your hand go, allowing you to walk ahead.
“Fucking hell.” Loki groans as the paps begin their usual camera flashes. 
“Can’t handle the limelight, Laufeyson?” Steve teases. Smiling for the cameras, he looks back at you with a frown. 
“Come on Y/N. Get your little bit of PR.” He chuckles pulling your arm and flashing a smile for the cameras. 
Bucky keeps a poker face as your eyes meet his because you can’t take the flashes and the screaming of the paparazzi. He feels for you, remembering the conversation at the bookstore about the flashes and the anxiety their loud voices bring.
“How did you get her to do this?” Steve looks at Bucky, “Some kind of persuasion…” He trails off you.
“Rogers, fucks sake,” Bucky steps closer, Loki places a cautionary hand to stop Bucky. 
“Public, Bucky.” Sam cautions, Bucky shoves his hands in his pockets, fists clenched.
“Steve, I’m not really comfortable with this—,” Your protest reaches dead ears, the questions by the paparazzi become borderline insulting. 
Steve wraps his arm around your shoulder smiling at the cameras, “Just smile.” He whispers, you shift away slightly. He tightens his grip, smile never leaving his features.
“Y/N how is it like spending an evening with Steve?” 
“Have you read his book? Is it better than your own work?”
“Who is better company, Bucky or Steve?”
“Are you leaving fiction writing?”
“Any boyfriend, or ex? What does he think about you hanging out with Steve.”
“Steve do you have any dates after this meeting?” 
They laugh then at that comment. 
You remain quiet looking down and trying not to get dizzy because of the flashes. Yelena had told you how this would be your new found fate, adjusting to it was proving difficult. 
“Did we get it?” Steve turns to his manager, Valentina Allegra de Fontaine. She gives you a charming smile. That did nothing to ease your nerves.
“We did.” She looks at the paps, soon enough they leave at her gesture. You take a breath stepping away from Steve. 
“Well, nicely done.” Valentina praises you, “Much better than the pictures with Barnes.”
Sam scoffs, “Much more staged, yes.” He comments. Loki snickers, Bucky laughs.
“I can send you some tips, Mr. Wilson. You need to keep the PR better. His social media is severely lacking.” Valentina offers him a card. 
Sam just stares at her. She shakes her head putting it back in her bag. 
Steve turns to them narrowing his eyes, “We’re on first name basis at-least.” He tilts his head to gesture towards you. You roll your eyes.
Loki meets your gaze, you look at Bucky, his blue gaze on you. You bite the inside of your cheek, you don’t want to deal with him.
“Funny, we used to be on first name basis too, Rogers.” Bucky provides him with a cold smile. 
Steve’s smug expression sours, he’s about to say something,
“Alright, enough, save the public fights for the film promo during filming.” Valentina taps Steve’s shoulder and they begin walking towards the car they drove here.
Your shoulders sag in relief when they leave, retrieving your phone you decide to book a cab.
The apps tell you its a ten minute wait, you spot the little cafe on the opposite side of the lot. 
When you turn to walk, Loki pushes Bucky in your direction with a ‘dude-go-talk-to-her-look’.
Bucky stumbles, saying your name, just as you take the first step. You squeeze your eyes shut before turning to face him. You don’t want to deal with any of this right now.
“I could, Could I drop you home?” He offers, hoping you say yes.
“Its okay, I don’t want you to think I’m after a PR moment.” You don’t feel great at his wince, hell taunting him with his own accusations hurts you somehow.
“I deserve that, but, let me drop you home please? Or if you’re more comfortable with Loki he—,”
“Loki is going to the club with Sam.” Loki announces, grinning at you, “Hey there.” 
You wave at him, finding yourself smiling back. 
“Long time no see.” You comment drily. Loki chuckles eyes moving towards Bucky, who has his gaze trained upon you. 
“Yeah well, I could blame you… but I don’t want a novel written…” Loki trails off.  
“Oh, is that so? Well,” you retrieve your phone, opening the notes app, clearing your throat you begin, “He stands in a parking lot surrounded by his friends, he mocks me for my storytelling. His green eyes convey the emotion which he cannot show— sarcasm. All while his friend does not understand why are we communicating this way. Even though his friend is the reason we do not speak.”  You speak out loud while typing gibberish. 
Sam laughs catching onto the joke and Bucky raises a brow between the two of you.  
Loki chuckles and you tuck away your phone. 
“What?” He requests getting confused even more, mildly because he is still nervous about messing up yet again. 
“Banter.” Loki shrugs. 
Bucky wonders if you would ever be at ease this way with him. After the shit he spewed he doubts it.  
“I’m sorry.” He blurts, Loki and Sam purse their lips and look at you. 
You shrug, not really knowing what to say. 
“Y/N… let him drop you home, please.” Loki suggests. 
“I can get by just fine—,” You have the protests lined up, 
“Look you both need to sort it out because SHEILD will exploit anything for drama, and you hate PR bullshit, Bucky does too, just bury the hatchet please, one last chance, if he fucks it up you can ignore him all you want, I promise.” Sam gestures to you and he has a point. Loki nods in agreement. 
“Okay.” You agree for the sake of not being forced to do anything for useless drama. 
“Thank you.” Bucky smiles, “My car is that way.” He points and you turn in the direction. 
Bucky turns to Sam and Loki gratefully. 
“You owe me one.” His friend chuckles, Loki gives a stern look. 
“Don’t mess it up.” Sam warns Bucky nods, jogging after you. 
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The car ride is silent, Bucky’s hands grip the wheel tightly. The material of the gloves taut over his knuckles.  
You try not to move your gaze to him, but it is difficult. As if your throat aches to speak to him. Your hands stay folded in your lap, but the fiddling with your fingers out of anxiousness begins, you try to press your palms flat on your bag. Yet after moments you’re back to fidgeting. 
Bucky swallows thickly, his attention on the road slipping because he wants to look at you. If there was a stoplight, he’d study your profile. Several moments he noticed your nervous movements. 
Part of him just wants to reach out, quell your nerves. Part of him is internally kicking himself for not explaining his side of things, allowing you to stew in words he did not mean. 
Does he even deserve to offer an explanation?
Your eyes and Bucky’s shift to the clock on the dashboard. It has just been ten minutes. 
He inhales deeply, followed by a long exhale. You wonder if a knife could cut the thickness in the air. 
He clears his throat, you turn to him. 
“Do you want to hear some music?” He questions, blue eyes reflected in the orange of the streetlights. 
“Yeah, music is good…” You shrug.  
Eleven words is a good start you suppose.
His hand shifts to the console, pressing the media button, soft radio chatter fills the car. 
Bucky shifts stations till music begins. 
The song is familiar, Bucky pauses tapping to the beat,
‘You’ve been my muse for a long time, 
You get me through every dark night,
I’m always gone, out on the go,
I’m on the run and you’re home alone,
I’m too consumed by my own life’
Bucky shifts in his seat, you look ahead at the road. 
‘Are we too young for this?
Feels like I can’t move
Sharing my heart
Is tearing me apart.’
Bucky snorts, breaking into a fit of laughter. You stare at him, the crinkles by his eyes prominent. The sound is full of mirth despite the lyric that prompted it. 
“Sorry I just, the line, god, it’s morbid humour at best.” He runs his hand through his hair, switching lanes. 
You wait for him to explain further, worried about saying something to upset him. 
“Conversation works two ways, Y/N.” He teases, meeting your confused gaze, “However I understand your reservations due to my own actions rather words.” He sighs, disappointment embedding itself into his being. 
“I know you didn’t know about Steve Rogers being cast, it was a stupid gimmick to get a rise out of Loki and I.” Bucky explains, “I figure you know probably about the highlight reel of what occurred between Steve and I.”
He looks at you again, you nod. 
“Which is one of the reasons why I said what I said to Loki. I know a muse can be anyone or anything. I just, I don’t know why I get overly defensive still, it has been what? Six-Seven years? It hurts still, but accusing you of something you didn’t do and you probably would not do. That was worse than a fucking asshole behaviour of me.” He purses his lips, then scowls. 
“I know I’ve apologised prior and we were on our way to being sort of civil and/or friends. I, want to apologise again.” The car stops at a red light and he turns to face you. 
“I, I don’t know what to tell you? I, the way things got handled during the release… the whole ‘me using you’…” your hands make quote marks,
“I’m sorry Steve did such a shitty thing to you which is not excusable. I guess having your face attached to another thing wasn’t a great experience either.” You chuckle lightly, Bucky smiles feeling some amount of progress. 
“I can understand your reaction but I can’t excuse it, Mr. Barnes. Everyone is burned before and that makes us cautious. You were looking out for Loki, which I’m sure he appreciates.” You look ahead. 
“Oh, no he ripped me a new one. I don’t think he’s ever crossed the 90 minute lecture mark and he did that night.” Bucky informs you wincing at the memory. Loki was absolutely livid even more than the time Bucky drank himself stupid and sat in his car.
Bucky shakes his head, shrugging away the memory. The signal turns green he begins driving with his left hand. The other resting on the console. 
“Why do you still call me, Mr. Barnes?” He wonders.
“You never told me to call you anything else, Mr. Barnes.” You chuckle. 
“You can use my name. I insist.” He adds lightly, a smile on his lips. 
“Okay, good to know.” You say, Bucky closes his eyes for a second, slightly disappointed his name didn’t follow. 
“I wanted to ask… that story you uploaded? Writing ‘fuck’ under the chapter title?” He supinates his forearm to gesticulate his question. 
You laugh now, “Your coveted production house bought my publishing house. Meaning they automatically get dibs on most of my work, which means my contracts need to be very ironclad to protect myself. Doesn’t help that Alexander Pierce is almost staring everyday at me to, waiting for me to ask for an extension in exchange of a favour.” You shudder. 
Bucky pulls over to the shoulder the tires screech as he slams the breaks. You lurch forward his arm reaches across you to stabilise despite you having the seatbelt on. 
Your brows furrow, before you can speak he turns completely towards you in the limited space. He draws his hand back.
“Promise me, please, no matter if we’re civil or friends or not. You won’t go to him for favours, he’s, he’s a vulture. Y/N you need to be careful.” Bucky’s hand twitches to reach out to your own. 
“I, I won’t.” You look between his intense gaze, “I find him kind of creepy. Weirdly touchy—,” 
“When and where?” The venom in his words would kill upon impact. 
“It, it isn’t, he’s not inappropriate—, a brush here or a comforting hand over palm there.” You swallow, it was uncomfortable but not something you could verbalise. 
“If he makes you uncomfortable or pulls any shit, I hope to God, I hope to God sincerely, that he doesn’t try anything with you. Please know you can come to me okay? I’ll, fuck, that man is bad news.” Bucky shakes his head, disgusted by everything he has heard and seen about Alexander. 
“Why do all you still work for him?” You question. 
“As you said, those fucking contracts, his leverage in the industry, it is a fucked up game to them, to him. There is never anything concrete to take him down.” Bucky doesn’t state the other things. You don’t need to know the darker bits and pieces. 
“Please, promise me.” He requests again.
“I promise, James.” You reach for his hand. His fingers intertwine with yours, you both stare at the limbs. 
Bucky finds it different somehow when you take his name, not the nickname that has become common to everyone. Synonymous with his very being.
When you look back up at him, you realise you both have leaned closer. 
Bucky studies your features, the way your eyes gleam softly in the streetlight, your lip gloss glimmering when you purse your lips then let them go. 
Bucky doesn’t realise how or when his left hand rests on your cheek. The temperature hidden by his gloves. 
When his thumb strokes your cheekbone you close your eyes. Bucky’s eyes close as well, your breaths intertwine, heart somersaulting as you feel something soft brush against your lips. 
Bucky can taste the sweet scent of your lipgloss, softly brushing against his own lips. He doesn’t want you to regret this, he doesn’t want you to think he’s taking advantage of you. 
The way your hand rests upon his, your warmth blooming through his layer of defence. His layer of protection. 
Something cracks within him, dark, urging, commanding him to push you away. 
'Doing what I can, tryna be a man (be your man) And every time I kiss you, baby I can hear the sound of breaking down'
Bucky’s forehead rests against yours, you give a sad smile. Your eyes are still closed but you knew. 
You knew this would occur.  
“James.” You swallow thickly. 
“I am so sorry.” He wants to apologise for not giving in to the moment. 
“You have a lot on your mind, mistakes happen, at-least you stopped, before, before you would regret it.” You shift back, your warmth and closeness leaving, have him feel colder than ever. 
You look down at your hands, Bucky screws his eyes shut. Head leaning against the headrest looking up at the roof of the car. 
I wouldn’t have regretted it. He wants to tell you, but he decides to keep quiet. 
You play with the hem of your dress, he recalls something. 
“Is, this looks like the dress you described Doll wearing during the dinner party with Beckham.” He murmurs, you chuckle. 
“So Rhys remembers but Beckham doesn’t,” your comment makes him smile lightly. 
“That’s why she ends up with Rhys. Get their happy ending.” Bucky shrugs. 
“If only those were common.” You murmur, twiddling your thumbs. Bucky places a hand on yours, pausing your movements. 
“What has you anxious?” He questions, you don’t look toward him. 
You. You want to speak, looking up concern drips from him, “I, I need to get home.” You deflect. 
“I just want to apologise to you, one more chance to show you that I’m, I want to be friends.” He admits. You absorb his words.
Bucky nods, allowing you your silence. His hand remains above yours, as he manoeuvres the car back onto the lanes. When your thoughts begin to swirl again, you play with his hand without thinking. 
Bucky observes you, letting you fidget, brushing your fingers over the gloves. So delicately as to not harm him. A softness tugs within his chest.
“Do you like these?” You question, looking at his side profile, he shrugs. His thumb absentmindedly running along the edge of your index finger. 
“I wear them because I don’t like the stares or comments. Also the whole image aspect… It’s sort of a layer between people and I,” he shrugs not knowing how else to explain the way the disgust was interwoven into his return to cinema. 
“Do you at-least have a safe space? Or someone you can take them off of in their presence?” You wonder, genuinely curious. 
“I do, my family, Sam and Loki.” He tells you, you smile. 
“That is good.” You wonder if telling him about Steve would garner what reaction.
“Loki plays Rhys’ best friend right?” You ask, Bucky nods. 
“Originally Rhys had two best-friends, I merged them into one.” You explain. 
“I don’t follow…” He looks to you slowing down before the turn towards your neighbourhood. 
“Steve was one of the original friends, so he asked me, if I did that because of what he did to you.” You look at Bucky. 
He begins to laugh, “So he was pressed about being kicked out? Wait he read the original fanfic?”
“More like worried about knowing ‘why was he cut off’?” You giggle, nodding at the latter half of the question. 
“What did you tell him?” Bucky is amused, he hadn’t ventured onto your blog just read the book. 
“I didn’t answer his question just asked him if he feels guilty is that why he questions my decision? He diverted the topic.” You shrug. 
“If he had any guilt he would apologise.” He declares. 
“Sometimes people think the time to apologise is too late, in Steve’s matter however it’s about the fact he doesn’t realise he did something gravely wrong.” 
“You don’t agree with what he did?” Bucky sounds surprised. 
“He didn’t take your permission, he didn’t take your consent, he wrote about what occurred with you and made it about him? What kind of an egomaniac do you have to be?” You scoff,
“I mean I might fall into the non permissive category but like,” 
“What you do is different.” Bucky declares. 
“Happy you think that way.” You look towards him. 
The car stops outside your home. Bucky looks at you. 
He moves his hand forward, “Friends?” He feels as though he is a kid in kindergarten. 
“Friends.” You shake his hand.  
“Does this remind you of kindergarten?” You ask, 
“It does.” He smiles. 
“James, this, you have your one chance but please know it is the last one. I do not have it in me to go back and forth.” You gaze into his eyes, the little street lamps illuminating his features.
“I won’t let you down.” He adds, you smile.
Bucky watches you walk up to your house, you open the door, turning towards him. 
His silhouette waves at you from the car.
Bucky stays till he watches the door shut, you watch from the window in hall as his car moves away.
You go about your nightly routine, changing your clothes and checking up on your mom.
“How was dinner?” She questions, hand held by yours, you smile. 
“It was okay.” You shrug.
“I see you’re smiling after this one.” She grins, trying to find a topic to tease you upon. 
“Mum it isn’t like that they are all working with me. Also it isn’t like the fictional worlds I create.” You pull her blanket up further. 
“Well one day you’re going to have that love the kind that you write and read about.” She runs her hand over your head. Your throat tightens at the gesture. 
“You wanna watch a movie?” You offer, she nods. 
“Something funny?” She requests as you stand to go bring your laptop. 
Your phone stays charging near your laptop on the desk, biting the inside of your cheek you contemplate. 
Almost forty minutes have passed since you got home, unlocking the device you find his contact, opening up the muted thread you type the message. 
The warm mist clears around him as Bucky steps out of the bathroom. Running the towel through his hair, his phone lights up on the nightstand.  
Y/N:hey, thank you for dropping me home. I hope you got back to your home safely too. 
Bucky smiles, beginning to type out the reply
James:I did get home about fifteen minutes back, hope everything is okay at home for you. 
He sets the device back down not anticipating a reply, Loki and Sam were already updated on the situation. 
When he gets back into bed deciding to scroll though social media your name remains in the notification tab. 
Y/N: that’s good, yeah it wasn’t chaotic or anything just watching Nailed It on netflix with mum she wanted to watch something funny. Have you seen it?
You’re opening up the conversation floor with him, Bucky’s chest mirths, elated that he’s making more progress. 
He begins typing out his response that no he hasn’t, you immediately request him to at-least watch one episode. 
Bucky chuckles pulling up the app on his phone to watch. 
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HEADLINES:
Y/N Y/L/N Spotted Amidst Tensions At Home - Read What Her Relatives Have To Say About The Author. 
Bucky Barnes Hanging Out With Dolores — Onlookers Say Things Got Steamy. 
Loki Laufeyson Spotted Outside BW’s Building Chatting With An All Smiles Y/N. Is This A New Friendship?
Steve Rogers Standing Outside Y/N’s Doorstep With Flowers — “I feel bad for her, I know what it is like to have someone dear to me be ill. I had to visit.”
Bucky Barnes and Y/N Y/L/N Catch Up Over Coffee And Books At Their Favourite Independent Bookstore. Sneaky Fans Catch Pictures!
Yelena Belova and Y/N Y/L/N Spotted Arguing Outside BW — Yikes! The Pictures Tell A Story. 
Bucky Barnes Uploads Sweet Pictures From Visit To His Parent’s House. 
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A.N.: raise you hand if you thought bucky was gonna mess up again? *me raises hand as well*
Taglist is Open comment or DM to be added!
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inkofyoonkoo · 2 years
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I gasp once, and in that breath, I accept you in | 2
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🏵️ Wordcount: 34k 🏵️ Genre: Fluff/angst/smut | From strangers to lovers!AU • FWB!AU 🏵️ Jungkook x Reader 🏵️ Description: In which Jungkook arrives to your small town to spend the holidays, and you slowly let go of all the ghosts of your past 🏵️ Warnings: age difference (10 years gap, both characters are adults); mention of panic attack; characters death (not the main protagonists);  🏵️ [EDIT] I should’ve added it since the beginning but I totally forgot because I’m dumb. The little poems that open every scene aren’t mine (I’d give a finger to write that beautifully 💔): they’re Japanese poems I’ve found randomly, or belong to well-known writers -so to them goes all the credit.  🏵️ A/N: at first, I decided to split this oneshot into two parts. However, after debating with myself for days, I've decided to post this second chapter first, and a sort of epilogue separately (because in my mind, the true ending has always been this one since the very beginning). At the same time, though, I feel that whoever reads a story 60k long and gets affectionated to the characters deserves something worth the time spent. So, yeah, please be warned that a third and last part will be dropped some time in the next few days! Thanks to whoever read the first part and enjoyed it and let me know their opinion! Feel free to hmu if you want. Good read🐰
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"With your name on my mouth And a kiss that never broke from yours"
You’d gladly spend the afternoon at home.
Big clouds float in an ocean of gray, threatening a thundershower since you’ve cracked your eyes open. You’d prefer being all safe and sound in a dry place when the rain will surely pour down. 
But… it’s not just that. 
Like a thorn plunged into your skin, there’s a creeping thought that mauls at your brain persistently from the moment your eyes laid upon the calendar, while you were sipping your morning coffee. You know, those sensations you get when the tiniest flap of skin and the most hidden bone seem to tell you that you’re forgetting about something extremely important -and, despite the hours are flying by so fast you can't barely feel time, your mind keeps drifting back to this tearing niggle when you distract yourself, although you really can’t remember what it is.
Every inch of you tells you that you should be at home, on your own, because today isn’t a day like any other…
But around 8:30 AM, Jungkook announced himself on the other side of your door -with a stuttered breath fluttering from his mouth and the cheekbones flushed, as if he finally found the courage to take some action and turn whatever was whirling in his head into reality. Between a rush of sheepish words that swoll the tenderness in your chest like a balloon, he told you that there’s a new place he’d like to show you, eyes shining brighter than the stars you two contemplated the night before, in the backyard of your home. And, if your first automatic reaction was to decline his invitation (you know the village like the back of your hand, nothing is new to you anymore), your heart could only give in to his genuine excitement.  
You accepted his proposal with a tender smile because Jungkook’s euphoria is too beautiful to shatter it.
(Jungkook’s euphoria makes you forget about many important things…)
And so, here you are: climbing one of the many paths along the mountain that rises above your town, under a gray sky that threatens rain anytime soon…
“Stop. Enough. I can’t go on anymore.” Words escape from your mouth in a rough breath; it scrapes against your dry throat, making you cough a little. 
Your legs shake for the uphill trail you've just crossed for about thirty minutes without interruption, you bend on your knees to ease your muscles a little (and avoid plummeting on the ground like a potato sack, sparing yourself the eventual embarrassment). Sweat drops glide down your temples, cover your forehead in shining diamonds gluing to the curls of hair that didn’t fit the tail. Still short of breath, you straighten yourself, the muscles in your thighs flex and burn for the mild effort. Your arms are heavy when you maneuver them to take off your backpack to toss it on the ground, before plopping down next to it.
You place your hands to the side, blades of grass stings in your palm as you take a good chunk in your fist. Swallowing thickly, you tilt your head back to catch some breath and quieten down the frantic beat of your weary heart, trying to ignore every pulsing inch of your body.
“Oh… already ?” Jungkook’s voice wafts over you in an amused melody that has your nose scrunching. But the giggle lingering in the air soon after is enough for your mouth to morph into a small smile. “You really are old, Noona .”
(Lately, Jungkook is using this suffix only when he has to mock you in a playful way; but in a certain sense, you're glad he isn't dropping this honorific title: it's a good enough way to ground you, reminding you that soon he’ll become just a boy you met on holiday -or you’ll become an older woman he met on holiday).
You arch your back as you put yourself into a stretched position, finally regaining some energy. “I’m not old, you little brat. I’m out of shape.” Your eyelids flutter up, ready to play along with his joke. However, words falter and wither in the back of your throat when you take notice of Jungkook’s intense stare, fixed on your figure. 
He's taking in the sight of your breast, adhering to your tank top in a delicate bow. Running the tip of his tongue on his bottom lip, chewing at the corner with so much strength that the skin turns whiter, he sizes you up to your spread legs -eyes flattening out in a catlike curving that has a mild warmth tingling along your groin. Without ripping your gaze off his face, you squeeze them tightly (mostly to get rid of the itchy sensation rather than deprive him of this vision) and Jungkook seems to snap back down to earth, big doe eyes now pinned into your own -brows arched in an ominous sign of disappointment (and shame, probably for having been caught staring). 
You should be uneasy, being observed like a prey at the mercy of a hunter. But something in Jungkook’s stillness makes you feel… alluring. Like he was only mentally listing down all the details that make you the woman you are, for him to perfectly reshape you in his mind when the pair of you will take different paths.
You almost forgot how it feels to be treated like a breathing work of art, and a part of you is desperately clinging to this magnificent sensation…
“Do you mind if we take a break? Only five minutes,” you mumble, laying on the grass before he could agree or nod.
A soft: “ Mhm ” is all you get in return, followed by light footsteps that close the gap between you and him (and that make your heart thump in a rhythmic tum tum tum reverberation in your ribcage). Jungkook situates himself beside you so that he can face you, uses his feet like a little cushion while rummaging through the backpack resting across from him with a little frown between his knitted brows. A tiny huff of proudness flies out his mouth when he finally finds the bottle of water, the plastic scrunches in his tight grip as he takes big gulps.
Tilting your head to the side in the slightest, you contemplate the drops of sweat shining on his honey-like skin, kissed by the feeble sunlight seeping through the big clouds moving fast above your heads. One, solitary drop rolls down the tip of a thin curl of hair stuck to his temple, sketches his jawline before gliding down his neck to disappear under the collar of his shirt already damp. Another drop is about to fall but he cleans it with the back of his hand before rubbing it on the cotton fabric of the garment, spots of sweat scattered all over it. You notice some faded scratch marks on the side of his neck where his tiny mole lays, probably because he rubbed the area too much (your fingers itch, they desperately want to run over it). 
You both stay quiet for the remaining time. Jungkook focuses his attention on his camera, brows snapping together for concentration. He sometimes mumbles disapproving comments before erasing a photograph he doesn’t like -while his mouth pulls up in a proud curve when he likes the shot he took.
Jungkook, this Jungkook, is easy to read. It’s comforting.
“Hey, thank you for coming with me today.” His eyes are fixed on his camera when you gaze at him, enraptured by his low voice. “I know you’ve already seen this place, probably. But I wanted to visit it again with you because it's breath-taking, it reminded me of you and—" He nods a little, cheekbones tinged with a pink shade (you rest your hand on your stomach, trying to ignore the temptation to rest your palm on his face and brush your thumb along the flushed bone). "I - I mean, you might like it. So… yeah, thanks.” 
You rack your brain frantically to search for a good response, but your mind keeps drifting back to the fact that he found something beautiful and worth seeing with you because it actually brought you back into his thoughts, which makes it difficult to focus. 
“It’s ok. It’s been a while since I’ve gone hiking around the area. Somehow, it feels like it's the first time,” you manage to say, delivering him a small smile to reassure him. You stretch your tensed legs, eyelids flickering down to better enjoy this moment of quietness.
“Why did you stop hiking? The place here is beautiful.”
Because Namjoon loves hiking. You used to travel along the hiking roads with him. You sometimes got lost because, in a burst of boldness, you decided to follow paths with no indications along the way. You used to search for mushrooms, or just enjoy the chirp of birds seeping through the fronds. You used to watch the leaves changing color throughout the seasons rolling by, holding his hand into your own. 
Everything seemed much more exciting, when Namjoon was here...
“It is. But after a while… I don’t know, it’s not so interesting anymore.” Of course, this is half of the truth. But you don’t want to talk about you and Namjoon crossing the same trail now marked with yours and Jungkook's footprints. It’d lead to an intimate conversation you aren’t ready to face, disclosing one of the billion memories you don’t want to share with anyone because they might get ruined.
Because Namjoon is yours -he is personal, and you don't want to share him with a boy who will leave soon.
“Oh… you must be bored, then." There's a light wobble of sadness in his voice, despite the little giggle seeped through his lips. 
“I’m not." You take in a deep breath, chest cold for the fresh air just sucked in. "The good thing about stopping doing something for a long time is that it seems exciting when you do it again."
Jungkook pauses, his vague stare lost in the valley of grass opening before his eyes. “I know. When I lived in Seoul, I used to go back to Busan only for the holidays. I was so tired I tended to spend my days locked in my room, though." He scratches his nape. "But when I went back, after dropping out of college, I preferred wandering through the city rather than staying with my parents and… I don't know, but all those places that looked the same when I was little, they weren't so boring anymore." Bitterness morphs his mouth in a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Well, everything is more fascinating than parents holding a grudge against you…"
You open one eye, scrutinizing the shadow of gloom shaping his face in a grimacing mask. "Did they make you feel bad for leaving university?"
"A bit. A lot… they still do." You've noticed that if his parents call when the pair of you are together, he doesn't pick up the phone. You've always thought it was a kind gesture to respect the time you are sharing, but you start realizing that he doesn't want to face those conversations in front of you -or he doesn't want to face them in the first place. "They are one of the many reasons why I’m not so excited to go back to Busan." 
You study the hint of sadness tugging at his features, wondering if you should delve more into this topic. The fact is that Jungkook doesn't seem prone to talk about the relationship with his parents, the hardships he went through after dropping out of college, and you don't know how further you can push yourself into his intimacy. You prefer being respectful of his privacy but, at the same time, you're aware that your behavior will only accentuates your I-don't-give-a-damn attitude.
However, before you could even choose what to do, Jungkook shifts the attention upon you. "You said you already went to Busan…" he scratches his earlobe, twiddling with one of the many hoop earrings. 
You nod. “Last time we went there, we went to the sea. It was in Winter, so we couldn't take a bath. But it was… spectacular." Namjoon knows your immeasurable love for the sea, he promised you that you'd go there in summer, someday. You didn't. "I'd like to visit it again."
“You should…” words tumble off his mouth in a dreamy note (your heart lurches in your chest). “I – I can show you around. There are many – many nice places to see.” The softness dancing across his features is soon replaced by a pair of wide doe eyes and a ruby hue pantined along his cheekbones. “Or you can go by yourself. I sometimes prefer traveling all alone. You know, so I can do things at my own pace, in my way…"
You know, you used to be like this, too. Then, your decisions guided you to Namjoon… and you stop thinking like life was meant to be lived only in the company of yourself.
“I sometimes would like to pack my things and, dunno, travel all around the world. There are many places I’d love to see," he confesses, “The idea of staying stuck in one place… it makes me anxious. Like, you know… like I was wasting my life."
A stabbing pain hits you somewhere in your ribcage, in a place you can't exactly pinpoint. “There’s nothing wrong with staying in one place. Stability is comforting.”
He scrunches his nose. “I dunno. It’s just… I see my parents, born and raised in Busan, who never stuck their nose outside their hometown and they… bore me? I mean, the only time they went out of town was for my cousin's wedding, and it wasn't even that far from Busan." His hand runs to the opposite bicep. "The idea of becoming like them, rooted in the same place… it scares me." There's a light twitch in his nose. "People who decide to stay in the same place forever… they are pretty sad ."
Oh…
“Oh…” it's all you can mumble, setting your vague stare on his face. And, maybe it's the way you pronounced it that makes a hundred alarm bells ring in his head, because Jungkook seems to register what he just confessed and panic . He was talking about his parents, sure, but this speech can be extended to a vast segment of people -a segment in which you're included, too.
For the first time since you’ve started hanging out, Jungkook really looks like a city boy who tries to teach something about the surrounding world to a village woman who rarely sticks her nose behind the borders of her cozy town. You could tell him that he’s too young to understand. That someday he’ll grow up and he’ll understand that there are other priorities –and, no matter how much you’d love to pack your things and leave, you can’t. You just can’t. But it’s not a matter of age. It's a wider matter: it's a matter of personality, life styles, and vision of the world…
It's a matter of experiences that scar you deeply.
It's a matter of people you meet and how they help you to nurture the better part of yourself.
Sometimes you meet a man and you fall in love with his shy smiles and his adorable dimples and his words brimmed with passion when he explains something to you and the world around you becomes less interesting because life with him it's a wonderful, gradual discovery that you wouldn't miss for the world. 
But Jungkook never loved anyone with such a deep passion.
He can't understand…
Once again, your brain gets in motion with a jolt, reminding you that today is important, and you shouldn't be spending your time here, with him…
Today… Namjoon… 
“(Y/N), I— shit .” Jungkook lowers his head, clenches his hands into fists. “I didn’t – didn’t mean to—“
“Break over!” you interrupt, delivering him a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. You tuck some hair behind your ear while turning to recollect your backpack –and avoid the shadow of guilt weighing upon his eyes and lips and shoulders. You just want to go home. You need to go home. “C’mon, it's getting quite late. Show me that place.”
You walk in silence for the entire time. 
Thirty minutes stretching to infinity made of stones rolling down the hill when you accidentally kick them; the chirping of birds seeping through the fronds; the wind stroking the leaves; thunders in the distance; plastic bottles squeezing every time you take a sip of water; clicks of camera.
You're right behind Jungkook, avoiding his stare every time he gazes over his shoulder to make sure that you’re following him.
For a very brief moment, your mind catapults you back to all those times you and Namjoon were basking in the aftermath of a thunderous fight: you were two clockwork bombs ready to explode at the wrong word or gesture; silence was so thick you could cut it with a finger; and deep inside of you there was this seed of fear, like you just fucked up everything. 
You shouldn’t smile, but the corners of your mouth quirk up anyway. 
You almost forgot this bitter sensation: being crossed by the fear that a thing you like is about to come to an end…
You let out a small breath, trying to relax. Soon you'll be back home and you'll finally close this silly summer bracket. Forever. It's probably a good thing that Jungkook revealed the arrogant facet of himself before you'd commit some bullshit. 
“We’ve arrived.” Jungkook’s voice is a bit scratchy, it seeps through the cracks of your consciousness and snaps you back down to earth. 
You climb up along the steep hill to travel these few meters, resting your palm on a tree trunk at the side of the trail to sustain yourself, eyes fixed on the ground to not stumble in your own feet. Gazing up, you take notice of Jungkook, waiting for you at the end of the rise; he's on the cusp of stretching his hand out to help you traverse the last steps, but in a burst of rage you go back to looking down, silently refusing his help (with the corner of your eye, you notice him clench his hand into a fist, sad stare pinned to the tip of his shoes. Your heart cracks a little). 
When you finally arrive at the top, still lightheaded for the energies spent during the hiking, it takes you quite a few seconds to realize which is exactly the place he took you to: it's an opening nestled between the army of trees that runs along the border of a cliff, immersed in the depth of the wood. Beyond the branches and leaves shaped in a natural curtain, you can admire the entire village cocooned between the mountains. 
You approach the chasm slowly, like a force was pulling you from the inside. Paying attention to not slide, you use the rocks like steps, contemplating the village beneath your feet -from up there, the houses are small and chase after one another in a drawing of streets that you could travel with closed eyes. 
The last time you went here, the sun was creeping over the horizon, bathing the town with hues of orange and gold that made the whole scenery look like a living painting (Namjoon was beside you, heavy breath to mark the silence, his fingers intertwined with yours); today, gray clouds curl into the sky, and still they don't notch the magnificence of this view.  
“It’s breathtaking…" your comment tumbles off your tongue in a barely whispered hush due to your incapacity to contain your astonishment before such beauty, rather than for a true desire to share your opinion with Jungkook. 
The boy beside you doesn't seem to catch this subtle difference, though. “It is…” Jungkook sets his eyes upon you, like he was imprinting your side profile between the folds of his brain. “You probably saw this place already," he adds, after a brief pause, going back to contemplating the panorama. 
“I did. Joonie discovered it and took me here.” You notice a muscle twitching in his jaw, teeth chewing at the corner of his mouth. You go back to admiring the landscape, feeling a weight settling in your chest. 
It never gets unnoticed to you the way Jungkook seems to tense whenever you mention your husband, even though he never actively vocalized his annoyance; so, in an attentive attempt to not make him feel uncomfortable, you try to talk about Namjoon as little as possible. But right now, after the things he said, you don't feel like taking care of his internal turmoil. 
You just want to go home, to your routine, to that something important that you can't remember…
Suddenly, a drop falls on your forearm. You gaze up at the fronds, growing thicker for the wind now blowing through them. "We should go… it's about to rain."
Jungkook moves, beside you. You think he's about to climb down the rocks first but when you turn to imitate his movement, ready to follow him, you realize that the boy is actually standing still on his spot. Staring at you. Staring at you with the saddest look you've ever seen on someone's face…
“I’m sorry,” he starts, weak. “I’m so – so sorry, (Y/N). I didn’t – didn’t mean to say what I said—“
“You did…” you interrupt, jaw clenching. Jungkook is like Yoongi, in certain aspects of his personality: he's the type of person who says the wrong (or right) thing at the wrong moment, uncaring about the consequences and the scars their words will leave on people. You admit you appreciate this side of their character most of the time, because they're the metaphorical kick in your ass that helps you to get a grip of yourself; however, it'd be nice if they'd think twice before opening their mouth with so much carefreeness. “But it’s ok. Don't wrap your head over it too much—"
“It isn’t. I – I fucked up, I—“ he moistens his lips, crossing his arms on his chest in a sort of protection. “It’s true. I meant what I said, but I wasn’t talking specifically about you. It was just… a general thing. You, to me, you…” his words fade in the sudden rumble of a thunder in the distance. "You’re interesting .” He stamps a foot on the ground when you chuckle. “I’m not lying, (Y/N). You are interesting to me.”
You let out a sigh. “Jungkook…”
“(Y/N), once you told me that you aren't interesting." His voice is firm, makes all your muscles cripple up. "When we met under the old tree and you were wearing a long skirt and your hair was down and - and you told me that your presence ruined my quietness. And you didn't, you never do…" The fact he's remembering certain details makes goosebump raise on your skin. Or maybe it's just the natural electricity in the air. Whatever it is, you twirl your arms around your waist, shielding yourself from whatever he's about to say. "Anyway, you told me you weren't interesting, and I wanted to tell you how much you were wrong. Because you are - are. You left all the people you love to follow your dreams in another country, and you got married and moved here… you are interesting ." His breath is heavy, he lowers his head. “And I’m an idiot, instead. I’m a twenty three-year-old who dropped out of college and would love travelling around the world but can't do absolutely anything." He chuckles, ruffling the hair falling over his damp forehead (your stomach twists and turns). “I’m so sorry. I fucked up.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did. You are mad—“
“Jungkook, I’m not mad.”
“No. You are, instead.”
You are. But, well… you aren't exactly pissed; you're more… sorely disappointed? The truth is that you've always sensed that Jungkook was spending his time with you because you're the only one who doesn't break his balls about his life; who doesn't judge his choices; who doesn't tell him how to behave; who never showed any real interest in him. You give him plenty of room for him to be himself. But aside from this, he probably doesn't have a great consideration of you: in his eyes, you're just a weird thirty three-year-old, unhappy, who clings to the memory of a man who left her and lives her monotonous life in a village without chasing her dreams. 
Deep down in your guts, you've always known that you're a passtime for Jungkook.
But feeling this -thinking this, and hitting your face against reality… they're two different things. 
You should take advantage of this moment and put an end to… whatever you've built throughout these months; but your dignity is so affected by his words you can't let it go. 
You owe it to yourself, to stay and give shape to your thoughts. 
You can't let a city boy who doesn't know shit about you trample on yourself…
"I was like you too, many years ago. And I still am, sometimes." You moisten your lips, trying to calibrate the light tremble in your voice. “Just because I like living a quiet life in a small village, it doesn't mean that I don't know how the world is out there, or that I wouldn't like to see it."
Jungkook stares at you intensely, like he'd like to open your skull and give a form to your thoughts. "So… what happened?"
"I fell in love." You smile. Your heart melts. Something inside Jungkook melts, too, because he diverts his stare like you've just slapped him. "I fell in love with Joonie and all the things that seemed so important to me… they weren't anymore. It wasn't about me anymore, it was about us …" words flicker in your throat, clogging it. "We had so many projects… then, he left ."
You want to go home. There's something important you've to do, even if you can't remember what it is. It starts to get cold, it seeps through your bones, humidity grows thicker and stickier. Thunders are getting closer. You've to go home…
“I… don't know how it feels to love someone with all you got. Probably—no, for sure , I've never been in love." Jungkook curls his hands around the hem of his shirt, like a child begging for apologies after committing a mischief. "Once, a girl confessed she - she loved me. She said she loved me so much and I just told her: ok . We were dating for six months and I didn't feel anything strong. I thought that if - if she dumped me out of the blue, I wouldn't care much." He lets out a bitter giggle. "I broke her heart. I broke—“ he moistens his lips. “I fear I’ll never experience the type of love you and your husband had and… dunno, maybe I'm the sad - sad person, between us."
You don't know. Love is different for everyone. Love isn't important for everyone. 
Sometimes, you just want to indulge into meaningless relationships, going out with women you introduce to your friends as " girlfriends " only to forget about them at the first sprout of emotion. Sometimes, you're thirty five years old and you just want to have fun, without the desire to build something in two.
Sometimes, you just want to turn back time and tell the girl who's confessing her love in tears that you love her too, but you're too scared to try. Sometimes, you're thirty four years old and her " but I love you " haunts you when you least expect it, to the point you can't even put a like to one of her photographs because it's too late now for you two. 
Sometimes, you're twenty years old and you dream to build your own adult life in total independence, relying only on your own strength. Sometimes, you're twenty two years old and you meet a boy two years older than you and you madly fall in love with him and you start making projects for two. Sometimes, you're twenty-five years old and he asks you to marry him while you're having breakfast, naturally, so naturally you aren't scared at all. Sometimes, you're thirty-one years old and you watch him go away with his bicycle, his "I love you " wafting over you in a melody you're never tired of listening to… and he doesn't come back. 
Namjoon…
Something scratches in the back of your mind. A vague thought, so shapeless you can't grasp it. 
Today … Namjoon…
You want to go home. You've to go home...
“How did you understand you were in love with him?"
"I stopped looking around," you admit, sweetness pulls the corners of your mouth up. "I… I didn't want any serious story. I just wanted to have fun. I had so many guys… you know, mainly friends with benefits, or occasional encounters. It was easier, like this. But Joonie… he was different. I couldn't stop thinking about me and him and all the things we could've done together." You gaze back at the village, a lightning scrapes the sky. "Like… there were things I still wanted to do on my own… but I kept imagining that he'd be there, waiting for me, at the end of a long day. I finally started thinking about my future with someone beside me… and I could only think of him, in those moments."
"Oh…" it's all that Jungkook says. 
He stares at you, hard and long. Eyes big and shiny. Mouth hanging open. Like a long-searched realization finally dawned on him. 
The first drops of rain start falling down over you, anticipated by a loud thunder that almost made the ground beneath your feet tremble. You should move and dash back home, after all it's dangerous to stand in the middle of a forest during a thunderwash. But you're paralyzed for the way Jungkook is looking at you. And you can't move a finger even when he takes a step toward you, paying attention to not slip. Instinctually, you back off, adhering against the tree trunk. 
His hands clench into fists along his sides, his stare dances on every inch of your face, lingering on the lips for a second longer. Imperceptibly, his face seems to gravitate toward you; imperceptibly, you feel like your whole body is gravitating toward him, too.
"The first time we met, you told me that you noticed me because I ignored you… what did you mean?" The question that was buzzing in your head all along finally flies out your mouth, in a sort of self-protection act to stop you from doing something silly (like hugging him. Or kissing him). 
Jungkook's stare widens a little, nose scrunching for the interruption. “Since – since I’ve arrived here, people do nothing but bomb me with questions: where do you come from? Who are you? Why are you here? What's with all those tattoos ?" He stamps a foot on the ground. "Girls left me their numbers on napkins, adults stared suspiciously at me as if, dunno, as if they were expecting me to rob their houses. But you didn't. You… ignored me." Words tumble off his mouth in a rush, but you can still catch a note of frustration. "You only asked me if I wanted some more milk or - or if I needed anything else. I've never felt like a creep, around you. Even now, you respect my space. You respect me . I like it."
Rain starts pouring down heavily, it smashes against you two -against the silence now settled all around you. And you should go, it's dangerous. You want to go back home because today is important and you shouldn't spend it with Jungkook. 
But Jungkook lifts his head up in the slightest, the eyelids flickering down as he lets the raindrops caress his face. He shoves his mint and black hair back with both hands (it grew a bit longer in the past weeks, you wonder how it'd feel under the tips of your fingers), a small smile of serenity etches itself on his face. 
Jungkook makes you forget why today is important…
A thunder makes you flinch, scattering away all the thoughts that were fogging your mind.
"We-we should go—“ you pull yourself out of your own daze, but you move so fast you almost trip on the slippery rocks. 
Picturing yourself smashed against the ground, your heart drops into your stomach… but it flickers up slowly, sustained by a flock of butterflies, when Jungkook grabs you. His hands on your hips. His stare engulfed into your own, crossed by a type of worry that you've seen only in Namjoon's eyes.  
He doesn’t move. 
You don't pull him away.
Raindrops fall from his lashes. Raindrops fall from his curly bangs and sketch his features. Raindrops fall on his rosy lips. On his rosy, tempting lips…
“I’m sorry, (Y/N)… I really am…" he whispers, thumbs drawing circular patterns on your tank top. “You… you are one of the few reasons that make this place beautiful." He catches a breath, a drop falls from his cupid bow. "I… was about to leave, a few weeks ago. I couldn't stand this place anymore. Days were all the same, people got on my nerves… then, you talked to me. Like, talking for real ." A small smile blooms amidst the sadness sprinkled all over his face. And it's all for you. It's all because of you. "You talked to me, and we started hanging out and… and so, I stayed. You made- make me want to stay…" he leans his forehead on your own, hands shifting to cup your face. “I’m sorry…” 
Your hands rest on his back, fingers curling around his shirt. Shivers travel down your spine -maybe it's the cold weather; maybe it's Jungkook's warm embrace. From that position, you can catch a glimpse of the tiny mole laying on his neck (you can't stop picturing your fingers dancing on that area)...
“(Y/N)... can I tell you something?” his question flies out above a whisper, like he feared that the simple sound of his voice might shatter the quietness settled upon you.
“Mh?” you can only hum, staying still. If you’d turn in the slightest to your left, you could brush your lips against his own. You don’t turn.
“You… I - I know this is going to sound weird, and I’ll look like a creep. But I think - think that you’re the coolest adult I’ve ever met.” His eyes shake a little when you meet them, pulling yourself away to stare at his tensed face. The way he pronounced that “ adult ” should make a thousand alarm bells ring in your head, but you’re too enchanted to care. “You never - never questioned me about why I decided to quit university. You never made me feel like a failure because I don’t - don’t know what to do with my life. I, for the first time in a long while, I feel good about myself.” He presses more against you, stare darting to your lips for an imperceptible second. “I don’t know if you don’t ask me anything because you’re not interested or - or you’re just polite. But whatever it is… I appreciate it.”
You avert your stare. Jungkook presses a little further, the tip of his nose now brushing over your temple. 
“I… I’d like to,” you start, eyelids fluttering down when his thumbs caress the puffy area beneath your eyes. “I die for asking you many things, I actually look forward to getting to know you better.” Your voice cracks, his lips part as if he had to suck in all your sadness. "But there are many things I don’t want to tell, too. It seems fair to not ask anything.”
“I want to get to know you better, too. I’ve so many things I want to ask you.” Gently, he applies a little pressure on your jawline to make you turn. “Ask me anything, (Y/N). I want you to know me - me .”
You know that Jungkook will never kiss you. He’s too gentle and attentive to act in a way that could put you in a bad position. And, at the same time, you know this is the right moment to go away and put an end to this surreal situation. To go back to your routine made of small things; to go back to your life, cutting Jeon Jungkook from it.
But your body isn’t ready to let him go (your fingers curl around the collar of his shirt so hard your knuckles turn white). Your body craves to be held, to be touched, to be kissed (Jungkook presses his fingertips so hard you can feel them dig into your skin). 
Since Jungkook bumped into your life, you feel like your sexual urges and sweet desires are awakened…
You lean forward, and Jungkook is already half of his own way. His lips rest on yours for a quick-whispered moment, so brief it could be a figment of your imagination. 
It's all so weird… Since Namjoon has been gone, you've never missed the act of kissing until Jungkook has barely touched your lips with his own. It's all so weird…
Naturally, you feel the call of this natural instinct and decide to follow it, breaking the few millimeters that keeps you from completing the kiss. And Jungkook responds in a heartbeat, like he was anticipating this very moment from the very first time his eyes have laid upon your figure. 
The softness of his mouth is accentuated by the raindrops falling in between, by the tip of his tongue that tentatively touches your own in the slightest. He rests his thumb close to the corner of your mouth, silently inviting you to open more for him, and you beseechingly satisfy this little request. A small whining of surprise raises from the back of your throat at the soft graze of his tongue, podding against your own. 
You cling to his shoulder blades, angling the head just right to follow his pace. You're a bit rusty, but you don't care (you hope Jungkook doesn't care, too). You're sinking in the kiss, in the sloppy sounds of it, in the moans blending, in the rain pouring down on your intertwined figures.  
He rests his other hand on your neck, thumbs brushing along your jawline. You place your fingers on his chest, every toned muscle under the tips is finally consistent and real -not just a tangle of lines painted in the back of your mind through your imagination.
Keeping your left palm pressed on his chest, enjoying the thumping beat of his heart, your right hand flickers to his side, sketches the natural hourglass-curve of his body, landing on the narrow waist. Your pointer slides along the waistband of his bermuda pants -Jungkook doesn't inch away, just groans a little into the kiss, anticipating your next move. You hook the tip of your tongue around his upper lip, carefully letting your digit meander further down. 
Rain pours down on you two, cascades upon his hair gently sticking against his features, upon your doubts and fears, upon the disappointment that made you want to run back home alone. 
Rain pours down and you want to go back home, but with Jungkook…
Absent-mindedly, your hand finally crosses the invisible line that separated you from his bulge, growing fuller under layers of garments. You barely sketch the half-chub of his dick, but the sudden whimpering sound escaping from his mouth, and his head flickering back in a rush, sinks you back down to earth.
You stare at him wide-eyed, feeling an uncomfortable weight of shame settling in your lungs. Hoky fucking—what's gotten into you?! Indulging in your own desires so openly… in a burst of embarrassment, you drift your hand back. But, to your surprise, Jungkook grabs it and places it upon his crotch, making you gulp for the boldness of his reaction. 
He presses his palm on the back of your hand, applies a light pressure for you to cup him fully, gently guides you up and down in a rhythmic movement that has him moaning softly, eyelids flickering down in the slightest. 
"I touched myself this morning thinking of you. And yesterday night, too. And the day before…" he mumbles between sips of breath, his confession makes your chest burst for the desire. "(Y/N), it's been days I'm thinking of you…" it seeps through his lips and lays upon your own in a soft brush. 
Your stare flickers upon his face, shaped with pleasure. Then, you set it back onto his hand still on your own, enchanted by the firmness of his dick caged between layers of fabric. All for you…
Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut when you proceed a bit down with your movement, grazing the curve of his balls, lips parted to exhale a soundless moan. "Can…" he lowers his head, hips swaying forward to feel your touch more. "Can we go back to my place?" 
You… you can't remember why today you should be at home, on your own... 
Jungkook grabs your hand, guides you down the hill...
But if you can't remember it… 
Jungkook stops half-way to kiss you again, as if he feared that those meters crossed in a rush made you change your mind...
It means it wasn't so important…
   The rain taps on the windows in a calming and refreshing sound, crashes down on the garden on the other side of the glass, flowers bending toward the ground. 
Liquid eyes laid upon the glassy surface, you carefully follow the slow meandering of the raindrops, blending in a myriad of shapeless, enchanting sketches that keep your mind busy. You don't want to think about what's happening here, right now. You want to shut your brain off, plummet in a deep sleep and wake up when everything will be over.
In this way, maybe, the sense of guilt gnawing at your heart will be gentler to you…
The wet fabric of your shorts suddenly glues to your skin in a slow descent, you bend your legs in an instinctive movement to peel the garment off with much more ease; there's a light thud when they fall on the ground, as you dig your sole into the mattress, eyes still fixed on the window.
Lips rest beneath your breast, draw the soft bow in a caress that makes goosebump rise along your arms. Fingers gently trace the long stretch of your leg, linger on the soft portion of skin close to your groin, where the elastic of your slip draws a barrier made of lace. The pointer sneaks inside the garment without hesitation, runs back and forth slowly, flickering from your pube to your wet folds in an imperceptible touch that has your walls contracting against nothing. 
Your heart jolts a little, sinking you back down to the reality you've desperately tried to avoid up to now: your back is sinking in the softness of the mattress; sheets are wet and crumbled under your weight and cold on the empty portion beside your own… and Jungkook is above you, meticulously exploring every inch of your exposed body with his mouth. 
Your eyes dart immediately to his figure but from that position, the only thing you can see is the top of his head -a skein of damp, mint and black hair that felt smooth under your fingers when you clung at it, as soon as he slammed the door of his bedroom behind his shoulders, minutes and minutes and minutes ago…
Your bare breast raises up and down heavily and slowly, your heart smashes against your ribs at every smack sound in a desperate attempt to set itself free. Your turgid nipples are shining wet for the kisses he planted there, pulsing and redder for the ghost of his fingers twisting those little, flashy cushions.
Jungkook's roaming ends upon the area close to your belly button, your stomach flattening down at every peck that leaves a wet print on your skin. He inches away in the slightest to catch a small breath, zones out as he admires the ruby marks he scattered throughout your body, before going back to placing feather-like touches on your tummy.
A thunder crashing through the silence distracts you for a second, and you're almost tempted to shove him away and put an end to this… mess . Almost. Like a force was pulling you from the inside, your trembling hand shifts from the crumbled sheets to his hair, still damp for the rain that caught you on your way back home. 
Jungkook raises his head up in a rush for the grazing movement of your nails on his scalp, eyes round and big like an animal who just heard a noise. A glint of panic streams in his brown irises, but it's so fleeting you think it's a figment of your (scared) imagination. Still with his stare engulfed into your own, his parted lips slide down to meet the elastic of your panties; still with his intense stare locked into your own, he runs the tip of his tongue upon the lace. And your fingers rack through his hair, dividing the various locks from the roots, pulling them back to reveal his forehead… until your pointers slide down his temple and Jungkook stops torturing you, angling his head just right for him to meet your palm. Like a cat indulging into cuddles, he meekly follows your stroke, moving his head to not lose contact with your touch, and delivers you a small (adorable) pout when you graze the soft area under his chin, fingers flickering away from him. 
Reluctantly, he puts himself into a stretched position, permitting you to admire the perfection of his bare torso. His pecs and abdominals are marked, well-defined lines grooved into the skin that stretch at the slightest flexion or movements. The black ink of his tattoos stands out even more on his honey-like skin, a good distraction from his dark nipples that have your fingers itching from touching them and feel their consistency under the tips. Enchanted by the (young) gorgeousness that crafts every inch of Jungkook, your stare finally glides down to his belly button, shakes for the thin hair that guides you to the waistband of his briefs -the only garment still on. 
Sitting on his own feet like a cushion, Jungkook notices that you're lingering your attention upon the lower part of his body, but he doesn't seem embarrassed by it. He slowly spreads his legs, giving you plenty of time to carefully take in the sight of his crotch, full and firm inside the fabric cotton.
You picture it inside of you, for a very brief moment. You picture him pulling it out and gently guiding it close to your wet entrance. You picture him gently guiding it inside your mouth, his delicious moans scraping the silence and that shield of composure that you're hardly keeping around yourself.
A small whining sound flies out from the back of your throat, legs now rubbing against one another to give some relief to the itchy sensation spreading from your covered center. Jungkook's stare trails down to your groin area, eyes shining bright for the vision that's taking shape for real . Through your lashes, you notice a little scrunch in his nose, like he was disappointed for being in idleness -while he should be the one to pump up your pleasure. 
Resolute, he grabs your panties and finally rolls it down your thighs. You lift yourself up enough to help him take it off, legs spreading shamelessly when he tosses the useless garment behind his back. You rest your fingers on your stomach, twiddle with them as you try to overcome the embarrassment of Jeon Jungkook gawking at your wet, exposed center. You let your hands slide down along your groin area in a mute plead to act and do something, because your walls are painfully contracting against nothing and you want him, you want him so fucking much. 
Jungkook pulls himself out of his own haze. Shakes his head a little and stretches toward you, comfortably resting between your legs. His arms twirl around your nape and head to sustain you as he catches you in an open-mouthed kiss, inhaling sharply through his nose when his half-chub dick presses against your wet folds. The friction against your clit is mild but nice, it has you bending your legs and waving your hips to feel him more, hands running to cling to his shoulder blades. 
His tongue slides languidly against yours, eager. You quietly moan into the kiss, fingers curling tightly around his back as his right hand trails down to your pube area; the proximity of his fingers makes you grind your center more frantically against his dick, and Jungkook breaks the kiss with a groan. 
He arches his back into your embrace, refraining himself from thrusting more erratically. "What do you want me to do?" He whines onto your mouth, brows snapping together as he squeezes his eyes shut. 
"Make me come…" you can only say above a whisper, clamping your teeth around his bottom lip, pulling it in the slightest.
Jungkook snorts a chuckle, his fingers cross the pube, graze your plump clit. "That's the plan…" he replies between pecks. "How? What do you want me - me to do, (Y/N)?" He slides his index and middle fingers down to your wet folds, caress them, back and forth. "Tell me what you like…" 
You arch your back when he places them at the very entrance, pulling in a little. "Don't know, don't care. Do as you prefer," you mumble, incoherently. 
Jungkook chuckles against your ear (it's such a beautiful sound, it torns your heart apart). "Oh, then… gotta a couple of ideas in mind…" he places a kiss on your earlobe, chewing on it as he finally pulls his fingers into you, inch by inch by inch by inch… his lips sketch your jawline, his fingers pull back and then forth again… and again… and again… until he pulls out. 
Nose scrunching in disappointment, you turn to look at him. Beyond the sparks floating in your eyes, you notice Jungkook shifting his fingers close to his face, they glisten with your juices. You can't really wrap your head around which his next move might be, especially for that lopsided grin he's giving you right now; but your heart spikes up when he curls his lips around them, without ripping his eyes off you.
You should be disgusted by his gesture, but for a very brief moment you feel young again… when sex was just sheer fun; a natural instict; nothing to be ashamed or repulsed about. And the fact is that you were having fun with Namjoon, too, but it was different…
Namjoon knew every little thing about you. Every sexual preference. It was easy to disclose your desires without feeling judged… 
Jungkook runs the tip of his tongue on his bottom lip, swallows thickly before placing a soft kiss on your mouth, slightly off-center. His lips skim down over your neck, a trail of wet pecks between your breasts, lingering on your tummy. He inches away with a smack sound before putting himself into a stretched position, pressing his palms on your knees to spread your legs more. Shifting on his spot, he situates himself between your legs, his warm breath fans your wet folds, it makes your walls clench in anticipation. 
A soundless moan tumbles off your parted lips when he places a kiss on your clit, the tip of his tongue flickering slowly on the plump button full of nerves. Jungkook pokes a finger on your center, recollects your juices before pulling it inside. 
A shiver crosses your spine, you squirm, your toes and fingers curl around the sheets. Beyond the liquid sparks floating in your eyes, you notice some Marvel action figures neatly aligned on the shelves; manga piled up in alphabetical order; a very few photographs that portray him or people you don't know. His clothes are carefully folded on a chair. 
You can breathe Jungkook's twenty three years and personality in every corner of his bedroom…
You sink into pleasure with that fleeting thought grazing your mind, before leaving you empty-headed. His lips curl in a sucking motion and you forget about everything. 
This ten years age gap, suddenly, doesn't seem so heavy anymore.
Jungkook inches away, a very thin string of juice and saliva keeps him close to you; he gives one last kiss to your wet folds before hovering over you, settling himself above you comfortably. You sink in his liquid eyes full of constellations, heavy breath escaping from your lips… and you don't care about your age. 
You just had an orgasm.
You're just a person who had an orgasm thanks to another person… 
"What?" You mumble, tracing his shoulder blades with your knuckles. 
Jungkook looks at you as if he had to tell you a million things. However, he hesitates, shaking his head a little while giving you a small, tired smile. You tilt your head a little to meet him half-way from the kiss he's about to give you, breaking the space between you two. He rests a hand on your hip, squeezes it lightly before twirling his arm around the small of your back. Applying a light pressure, he drags you toward him as he rolls on the mattress on his back, maneuvering you effortlessly, like you were boneless. 
You shift on your spot, sitting astride on his lap, hands resting on his shoulders. Jungkook places his palms on the small of your back, pulling you closer while his mouth curls around your cleavage, sliding up to trace the collarbone. You study his movements through your lashes, racking your brain frantically to elaborate your next step. 
Honestly, you're rusty when it comes to sex. Despite the few, occasional encounters you had after Namjoon, you never let those relationships go too further to actually reach such a peak point of your intimacy -so, you highly doubt you will skyrocket him on the Milky Way just like he did with you. But with Jungkook, everything happens naturally: it feels like your hands exactly know which spots to touch to make his breath run faster; they exactly know how much strength they should apply to steal a moan from the back of his throat; they exactly know where they should rest for his heart to beat frantically. 
Fingers curling around the hem of his briefs, you kiss his chin while rolling the garment down his hips. Jungkook inches away to observe your hands peeling off his slips, letting out a stuttered breath when the air finally grazes the tip of his dick, already slicked with precum. You'd like to cast a quick glance down and admire his pulsing length now exposed, but you've eyes only for him -for his front bunny-teeth clamping his bottom lip; for the stars scattered in his doe eyes; for the little, imperceptible blemishes sprinkled all over his young skin; for the curls of hair sticking against his sweaty forehead. 
In a rush, he uses his own feet to help you take his briefs off, comfortably resting against the pillows in anticipation of whatever you're going to do to him. It's only at this very moment, with his legs spread wide, that you take in the sight of him, twitching against his abdomen, smeared on the head. 
Hesitantly, your fingers flicker toward the tip. The pads gently rest on it, move in circular motions that have him stretching his legs and curling his toes and clenching his fists around the sheets. Your middle and pointer slide down the rough length, and you go back to scrutinizing his face to understand if you're doing ok or if you should change pace or movement.
Jungkook seems to enjoy it, though. He's sucking his bottom lip in so hard that you can now fully see the tiny mole laying underneath it, jaw clenched and eyes squeezed shut. You'd expect him to guide you in the slow growth of his pleasure -to vocalize exactly what he wants and prefers. But Jungkook stays quiet, patiently waits, squirms under your touch…
And this vision shuts your brain off.
Absent-mindedly, you rest your hands under his knees and gently pull him closer to slide along the mattress as you move backward in the process, sitting comfortably between his legs. Without ripping your stare off him, you lean forward and close the millimetric gap, curling your lips around the head. Jungkook flinches for the sudden touch, the muscles in his thighs and abdomen and arms flex. The tip of your tongue flickers around the saltry area, gently tap against the frenulum. 
You shift one of your hands on the base of his cock, gripping tight around it and pulling up and down at a rhythmic pace, while the other fingers run to cup his balls, massaging them. 
You don't rush, you take your time. You enjoy his throaty moans, his little comments tumbling off between sips of breath, his tattooed hand on top of your head. You focus all your attention on the tip, without fully taking him with your mouth -you want to torure him a little, gasping in those few minutes that separate him from the peak of pleasure. 
Jungkook comes with a small moan and heavy breath pumped out his lungs, thick liquid spills from the tip down his dick, smearing your fingers still around it. Your tongue still flickers under the head, catching drops of cum. 
You aren't disgusted by the mess you've made -you're actually pretty excited about Jungkook reduced into a mass of panting and muscles flexing under his skin. You swallow till the last drop you can catch before inching away, casting a glance upon your stained fingers. You reach out to the nightstand to grab a napkin and clean your hand; but before you could take care of him too, Jungkook grabs you by the waist and maneuvers you toward him, making you use his body like a mattress. 
"God, this was—you… " he swallows thickly, brushing a knuckle over your chin to get rid of a stain of cum. He lets out a soft chuckle between pants of breath, gravitating toward your mouth. “I'm so happy - happy. I've waited for this moment for so long, (Y/N),” he mumbles, his hands brushing along your sides.
His words hit your brain like a bucket of icy water. 
Namjoon waited for you for so long, too. His lips were quivering for the cold, the rough fabric of his scarf was tingling your chin. It was your first kiss, in winter… 
Namjoon…  
Namjoon waited for so long to give you a small kiss on your lips… Jungkook waited for so long to have your lips wrapped around hidick…
Namjoon, today...
Jungkook said that people like you are sad. He talked about traveling around the world and feeling trapped in a city. Jungkook confessed that he masturbated thinking about you, many times… while Namjoon—!
The area around your eyes, now wide and crossed by a glint of terror, swells up. 
Holy shit, Namjoon …
Naked, cocooned in Jungkook's warm embrace, you suddenly remember what is the thing that's bugging you for the whole day, but that you couldn’t grasp. 
Today is your anniversary… it's your fucking anniversary and you completely forgot about it.
You should be doing the usual things you do to celebrate it as if Namjoon was still by your side on this special occasion; and instead, you're spending your day with a twenty three-year-old boy you know very little about, giving head to him, letting him come into your mouth. 
Holy fucking shit… what were you thinking?
Your breath is heavy, tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. 
How could you forget about something so extremely important?
Jungkook is… he’s ten years younger than you. He’s a little bit older than the students Namjoon used to teach to. He… he should be spending his summer with someone his age -not with a woman in her thirties who still feels something deep for a man who isn't here anymore. And what's even worse, you completely disregard an event that Namjoon would have celebrated as if it was the first time…
You… you can't do it. You can't hurt Jungkook like this… you can't hurt Namjoon's memory like this…
This thought is enough to make you come back to your senses.
You wriggle out of his embrace in a rush (Jungkook's smile fades like watercolors on a paper), as if you were disgusted by his presence. You jump down the bed, desperately searching for your clothes. You spot the slip close to the chair, above his shirt and trousers; you wear them with a quick gesture, taking a look around to pinpoint the other garments. 
Jungkook stays still, observes your movements with a vague stare. Then, his voice, low (so low it shatters your heart in pieces). “(Y/N), what happened?" 
“Nothing, I just remembered something important—” you recollect your shirt -you're so wrapped in your anxiety to wear it backward. "Sorry, I gotta go—"
“(Y/N)...” he calls you softly, the sweetness dripping from your name paralyzes every fiber of your being. 
Tightening your shorts, you gaze over your shoulder. Jungkook is there, sitting on his spot, his limp dick resting along his thigh and shining wet in the dim-lit room. 
He delivers you a small, encouraging smile. "Stay, mh?"
“I’ve to go,” you repeat, averting his broken stare before wearing that last piece of garment and dashing outside his bedroom. “See you soon.”
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  “Casually, To see just your shadow, I passed through your house’s gate several times.”
  A week passed, and still you can feel Jungkook's taste in your mouth.
You know this is just a joke of your dirty subconscious to pinch your sense of guilt, which sprouted in the abyss of your chest in the exact instant you decided to cut ties with the boy forever. 
(For the first two days, Jungkook came to visit you every morning -during breakfast; launch; dinner. His: " (Y/N), it's me, Jungkook. Can we talk? Please?" sounded so weak and small behind your shut door that you felt your heart drop into the pit of your stomach for the guilt. The last time, he wished you goodnight with the same soft voice he used to ask you to stay, after sex. You didn't open…)
The sudden sound of an uncorked bottle snaps you back down to reality. A muscle twitches in your neck when you turn, shifting your stare from the window of Min's restaurant to the counter, catching Jin in the act of pouring some red wine into a pair of steam glasses.
You arch your brow, noticing the burgundy liquid reaching almost the edge. "We're both going to drink from this one, aren't we?" 
"Enjoy it, my sweet (Y/N). It seems we both need it," he comments, eyes crinkling in the corner. He taps lightly the glass against your own, some drops spill on the wooden surface of the counter. 
You clean them with your apron. "You more than me, it seems…" you smirk, watching him gulp down a long sip. "What happened?"
His lips twitch. "Eunwoo dumped me."
"I'm surprised…" you let out a chuckle when he tosses the bottle cork at you, only to dart him an apologetic look soon after. You aren't at all surprised about this revelation: Eunwoo lives in Daegu, moved to a city nearby your village to study and accidentally arrived in your town with a couple of friends when they got lost during a little trip. She hit on him the second he politely welcomed her into the restaurant, and he gladly indulged in her sweet disposition toward him -but it was just a matter of time, considering that Jin keeps calling her "a fling". 
You can't tell much about her as a person, since you rarely met her; but she looked like a nice girl…
"That's a pity. I liked Eunwoo a lot, she was funny." You run your finger along the glassy surface, resting your chin on your palm. "She's always been more into you, though." You wait for a follow up that doesn't come, so you add, "why did she dump you?"
He shrugs. "She found out I still use Tinder—oh, stop laughing, (Y/N)." He puffs his cheeks, offended by your behavior. "I said from the beginning that I didn't want anything serious. She accepts, then she gets angry at me because I don't want anything serious…" he curls his lips, putting a towel upon his shoulder. 
"She liked you a lot, Seokjinnie." You let out a sigh, twiddling with the cork. "I would have accepted it too, if Joonie proposed something similar. You know, only to spend five minutes with him—"
"And make him change his mind, aha," he completes for you, letting out his windshield laughter when you roll your eyes. "Why do you always have this thing? As if you could change a man's behaviour through sex…" he takes a sip of wine, grimacing. "Anyway, it's not the end of the world. I'm a bit with my head in the clouds, and I wasn't in the mood for quickies or friends-with-benefits affairs in the long run."
Your heart flickers in your throat for his last comment.
Seokjin talks and you try to pay your utmost attention to the conversation, although your mind keeps drifting away and crawling back to a boy with big doe eyes…
(The other two days, Jungkook spent his evenings on the steps of his house in the attempt to casually meet you, throwing a ball to let Bam play. Yoongi saw him from his balcony and told you that he looked like a sad child who waited for his mother to come back home after a long, hectic day. He asked you if something bad happened between you two, but you brushed it off as if Jungkook was just a grain of dust.)
"Let's talk about important things…" Seokjin places a plate of Japchae in front of you, the good smell of fried vegetables and soy sauce pinches your nostrils and makes your mouth run dry. "How are things going with the new boy?" A malicious smile etches itself on his face as he crosses his arms on the counter, studying the ruby shade now tinging your cheekbones. "Mom told me everything ."
You swallow. "Everything… what?"
He spares you a glance before turning, going back to the burner to prepare a new plate for himself. "Innocent things. That you're spending a lot of time together… you go hiking, or take out your dogs almost every morning. He comes to your place for lunch, you go to his home for dinner…" he grabs his plate, taking a mouthful of mushrooms and noodles. "How are things going?" 
(The remaining days, Jungkook traveled those few meters that separate your houses, but never reached the front door. He curled his fists around the hem of his shirt before going back, hunched shoulders and fast pace. From that day, he stopped searching for you.)
You fix your liquid eyes on the dish. "How should they go? We don't do anything."
"A bird told me you went together to the festival."
"Which bird? Your mother?"
"And Yoongi-chi. And half of the village. Well, ok, many birds." He gazes over you to scrutinize your annoyed expression. "You know there's nothing wrong, mh? People here love babbling about everyone, but nobody would ever blame you for moving on." His voice is serious, matches with the somber stare he's now delivering you. 
"I know… but there's nothing to talk about, really." A shiver runs down your spine as the ghost of Jungkook's kisses touches your belly. "He was, you know, the news . He was bored, I was curious…" There's still Jungkook's taste in your mouth. There's still his broken stare haunting you from the moment you crack your eyes open in the morning to the last you close them at night. "It can't work…"
Seokjin pauses. "Work… it means you two were doing something ."
You look at him goggle-eyed, mentally cursing at yourself for not calibrating your words properly. "No. I mean… our worlds are too different. And he's twenty three, why should he spend his time with me?"
"Uh! A boytoy!" He grins, too excited (you facepalm. You hope he won't tell Yoongi, he'd never let you live from now on). "And, don't think he gives any damn about your age… I bet he's pretty interested in you. You know that he kept staring at you, tonight? I mean, he always stares at you, but today… It seemed different. Like… as if he was waiting for you to go and talk to him." He takes a grab of carrots. "What did you do to him? He was such a gray cloud, poor thing..." 
You swallow, there's still his taste in your mouth. You left him all naked on his bed after sucking him off. He searched for you for almost a week, and you ignored him. You avoided him.
You're cutting him out of your life, after letting him walk in… 
"(Y/N)..." Seokjin calls you, carefully, worried about your vague expression. "Whatever happened, or whatever is happening, you're doing anything wrong." He gives a small, reassuring smile that has your heart lurching and copiously bleeding in your chest. 
You take a long sip of wine to help you swallow the noodles. "I don't know. I'm not used to it anymore. You know, dating someone—like, it's not like we were dating, of course..." You chew on your bottom lip, unsure. "And even if I'd want to, Joonie—"
"Namjoon won't be back." Seokjin's voice is firm, but not harsh. His shoulders hunch over, as if he couldn't bear the weight of his own words. "What happened to him… it's not your fault, (Y/N). You've all the rights to start a new life. He'd be pretty disappointed to know that you're wasting your time, losing all the good and nice that life is still giving you."
The area around your eyes swells up, you clamp your teeth to your bottom lip to keep tears at bay. He's right: Namjoon would be disappointed if he could see you right now. Acting cowardly. Running away from the first sprout of affection. Clinging to him like life doesn't make sense anymore just because he isn't here with you…
Namjoon would hate you for turning into a woman you don't like. And, as much as you're hyper conscious of it, you can't do anything to get over the sorrow that prevents you from moving on…
"I know..." You can only whisper, diverting your stare.
"Which means that you can suck the new boy's dick without problems." There's a playful note in his tweet, but his eyes grow bigger, seeing you fumble for words. "Omg, you—you really did—"
"You, instead," you interrupt, shaking away the picture of your lips curled around Jungkook's tip now flashing in the back of your eyelids. "Your mother is pretty down in the dumps, lately. She almost bursted out crying this morning. What did you do to her?" 
A thick silence settles between you two, unable to stop looking at each other. The first to break eye contact is Seokjin, voice low and mouth opening in a small smile. "I'm leaving." His brown irises shine bright, in a way you've never seen before -like he was madly, deeply in love with something. "At the end of August I'll move to Incheon. I'll be the second chef in Mr Kwon's restaurant. It's pretty famous over there." He puts his empty dish away, grabbing the wine instead. "It's not a model career, but it's what I love doing." He ruffles his hair, hiding his liquid eyes from you. "Mom is quite sad that I'm going away out of the blue. But it's been months I've been thinking about it, and it's for the best."
"Incheon… It's far away," you mumble, suddenly feeling alone in this small village. 
"It's only four hours, and I'll often come back. You won't even notice my absence."
You give him a small smile that doesn't reach your eyes. Seokjin leaving will generate an immense abyss in your lives. "How did Yoongi take it?"
Seokjin's expression changes. It gets sadder. More nostalgic. They grew up together since they were little children, it must be hard to leave him behind. 
"He's the first I told the good news. He told me: congratulations, it was about time you get the fuck out." He chuckles, resting his chin on his palm. "And then he came up with an excuse and went away. He probably had to cry." Bitterness draws his lips in a crescent. "But he's doing fine. He's already making me a playlist to listen to during the drive."
"You're leaving…" you repeat, slowly, as if you had to still process this information. "This place won't be the same without you."
"I know!" He says, playfully. "But staying here… it smothers me. You know, I often think of Namjoon and when I do, I think about the million things I never did out of fear, or to not disappoint my mother, or to not abandon my friends." The glass in his hand shakes a little (your heart does, too). "I want to leave this place and live my life before it's too late. Like, shit, I can't stop thinking that destiny always plays some dirty tricks and—" words wither in a curse when he notices your feeble smile. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I'm an idiot…"
"Don't worry. He is the first to tell you that you should've left this place a long time ago." You gasp once, your chest hurts. "You're doing the right thing. I know you love cooking, that it's the thing that makes you truly happy… but I'll miss you."
"I know. I'd miss myself too." He drums his fingers on the counter. Then, he brushes past it to approach you. Tears prickle in your eyes when you stand up, hugging him tight. He inhales sharply through his nose. "Can I leave you alone, mh? It's all good, right?" You nod, clinging more at his shoulders. " Alone ... I almost forgot you've a boytoy now."
You chuckle, inching away. You rub your eyes to get rid of the liquid sadness that's tugging at your lashes. 
Seokjin plops down on the seat beside you, smirking. "So… how's his dick?"
"What's the point? We know yours is more beautiful anyway."
Jin laughs brightly and you enjoy every bit of it. You sit back down, observing his wet eyes crinkling in the corners, the vibrant flush spreading along his face, his shoulders shaking convulsively while tears roll down his cheeks…
You'll miss this wonderful sound (this wonderful him) with every fiber of your being.
  You fold your arms around your waist, teeth clamping at your bottom lip as you keep your eyes fixed to the tip of your gym shoes. The humidity of this hot summer night sticks to your skin, but shivers travel down your spine as if you were in the middle of a cold, harsh winter. You catch a breath and slowly pin your stare in front of you, swallowing thickly.
Jungkook's house never looked so scary.
You know it's late, in every possible sense. But the conversation with Seokjin, his subtle reprimand, and his sudden departure accompanied every step you took from the restaurant to your home, impending you to actually go inside and call it a night.
Seokjin made you want to see Jungkook one last time…
With your sense of guilt gnawing at the surface of your tortured heart, with a shame that roots from your behaviour in the past days, you slowly approach the entrance. You chew on your bottom lip while pushing the doorbell, scraping the silence coming from inside. You hear Bam bark, then footsteps thumbing on the ground. The clack of the door makes your muscles tense up all at once and your heart squeals and runs to search for a place to hide…
"Bam, be quiet—oh…" 
… Only to melt in a pulpy mess when Jungkook appears on the other side of the door, washed by astonishment.
You feel awful…
Showing up here after a week only because your best friend is leaving this place for good (who subtly reminded you that you’re wasting your days, and that you’re disappointing Namjoon for your behavior) is a shitty move. You're a fucking egoist, the worst. Using Jungkook's presence to cope with your emptiness, using someone who doesn’t know shit about your past only to feel something again… God, you’re a fucking bitch.
Jungkook should slam the door against your nose. But he doesn't.
You move a foot backward, though. 
He straightens himself when he catches your movement, pulling himself out of his own daze. “HiNoona…"
And this makes you stop. 
Everything inside of you, and outside of your own small bubble, stops. 
Noona… . he wasn't calling you like this in a little while. Not with such a serious tone, at least. Panic suddenly cripples up your heart, you feel weak in your knees at the thought (the certainty?) that he'll chase you out. 
“Hi…" You manage to say, feebly. Your stare shakes before his big eyes, it drops on his baggy t-shirt long enough to cover his pyjamas-boxers. His casual clothing, accentuated by some spots of paint scattered across his garments, screams that he was probably minding his own business and you're interrupting him. "Sorry for bumping in here so late—" words fade into a small chuckle when Bam jumps around you, excited by your presence. "Hey, you..." you crouch down, cupping his muzzle. You take advantage of this sudden moment of distraction to recollect all the words you've memorized in your mind during your walk; but they flee from you, leaving you speechless. You take a glimpse of Jungkook's slippers, sighing. "Sorry… didn't mean to bother you."
Jungkook of a few weeks ago would have smiled and told you that you aren't a bother, that he's happy to have you here.
Today, Jungkook doesn't smile. He shrugs and says, "I was painting. I couldn't sleep… But you're a bit late, blowjobs-hour has finished at 12:05 PM. You should come back tomorrow."
Your eyes grow bigger as you pin them upon his face, cheeks flushed for his brazen comment. 
12:05 PM. The hour when you left him…
You carefully sketch the light frown between his knitted brows with your eyes only; the stiffening in his jawline; the glint of disappointment in his somber gaze… it's the first time Jungkook displays an emotion akin to annoyance since you've met, and you feel awful from making him reach such limit. Throughout the past months, he's always been so quiet and gentle that more than once you've wondered if he's ever been crossed by intense feelings such as rage and resentment. 
It makes you realize that you don't know anything about him…
You chew on your bottom lip, lowering your stare. You could apologize, but it would be pointless. You hear some movement sounds coming from his direction, which makes you think that he's about to go back inside; but there's no clack of door, nor goodbyes. 
He rests against the doorframe. "Why did you disappear?" He asks, firm. "Is it - is it because I’m younger? I don’t care about age, I – I’m used to it." He nods to emphasize his comment. "I'm used to dating older women, it's ok. It's really ok to me.”
You try to ignore the sudden pang in your stomach, wondering how many women he slept with. It's not your business. 
“It’s also about that.” You mumble, focusing your attention on Bam, unable to look at him. Jungkook isn't dumb, he knows that something else is stopping you from enjoying his company. But it's easier to focus on this visible issue, rather than facing the enormous luggage of ghosts you're carrying with yourself. “You’re twenty three.”
He grunts. “I know. And you’re thirty three. Ten years aren’t that much.”
“They are.”
“No, they aren’t.” He stamps a foot on the ground, like an angry bunny would do. You munch the corner of your mouth to refrain yourself from smiling. “You don’t treat me like a boy… I like it.” He swallows, as if he was pushing back other heavy words. 
And he doesn't treat you like a thirty three-year-old. 
Jungkook never made a fuss about the age gap between the pair of you. He treated you as an equal, he never made you feel uncomfortable about time notching your body and character as a natural phase of life.
Time, with Jungkook, it's really a senseless concept…
He exhales one of those little mouth-sounds he makes when he's trying to gather his thoughts. "(Y/N)... I'm young, but not so naive to think that a blowjob is some kind of wedding proposal." 
"Do you really think that's the problem?" You now dart at him a furious look, offended by his comment. 
Jungkook pouts, his hand now running to the opposite elbow to caress it. "Is it for your husband? Did he come - come back?" 
"No, he…" words fade in a squelched moan. You swallow the lump in your throat. "He won't be back, don't worry."
He exhales sharply through his nose, frustrated. "Then, why?" He pinches at his arm. "Are the people here the problem? You know I don't care what they say, I—" his words trail off mid-sentence, lips stretching in a thin line. "But you do."
Of course, you do. 
You live here. Jungkook will go away at the end of August, but you'll stay here -with your memories and sorrow and rumours whispered behind your back. And you'll be completely alone to face all of this. He'll leave you and you'll become a bracket he'll briefly recount to his new lover -or probably he won't even mention you. 
But there's more, in between all of this.
There's so much more that's preventing you from taking a leap of faith toward him…
"It's not only about that.” You sigh, lowering your head. "Listen, I'm sorry. I - I shouldn't have run away, and I shouldn't have disappeared. And I know you're mad at me and you don't want to see me anymore, I deserve it. But I—"
"I want to see you," he interrupts, softly. "I wanted to see you. I still want to see you…" He brushes his thumb on his middle finger to scratch away some paint, the little smiley-emoji tattoo stretches along his skin. "This week was awful… like, you know, when something is missing and you can't enjoy anything…" he casts an embarrassed glance upon you. “Did – didn’t you like it?”
A shiver runs down your spine. God, you loved it so fucking much. And you feel so guilty for putting him in the position of doubting himself…
“It’s not that. You were great.” 
Jungkook straightens himself, there's a proud set in his shoulders and his chest swells up so much you can take sight of his tensed pecs adhering to the shirt. And yet, the expression of seriousness and disappointment is still there, hanging between his features. 
The area around your eyes swells up, but you push back tears. You aren't in the right position to burst out crying. You stand up, giving one last stroke to Bam, who's now running back to Jungkook.
You tuck some hair behind your ear. "Well—"
"I was about to watch some horrible Netflix series until I fell asleep, eating pop-corns and drinking beers between meals. You know, something very twenty three-year-old- ish ." He lets out a giggle, cheekbones red and stare softening each passing second. “Are you in?”
You hesitate, feeling something warm blazing in your chest. A part of you is deadly scared that this is just a way for him to take his revenge -you know, have a good shag with you one last time before ghosting you (after all, you know very little of his personality); but another part of you is deadly scared that refusing his proposal will be the coup-the-grace to your scarred relationship .
Hesitantly, you break the few steps between you two. You keep your stare low, unable to hold his own. You're about to walk inside when Jungkook situates himself across from you and the doorframe, impeding you to proceed further. 
He leans forward, inhaling sharply through his nose when the tip brushes against your hair. “You won’t go away, will you?” his question is a barely whispered hush that makes you want to hold him tight and cry. “You… whatever happens, you won’t leave me like you did last time, will you? It - it hurt… ” he rests a hand upon his chest, where his heart lays. You curl your fingers into fists from refraining yourself from taking it and squeezing it and kissing it. "Don’t leave, (Y/N)...”
Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you study his face, so close that his warm breath caresses your chin. Without ripping your stare from his own, you grab a sleeve of his shirt, brushing your thumb and pointer on it. You rest your forehead on his shoulder. 
You don't promise, but Jungkook lets you in anyway. 
  When you crack your eyes open, your cheek rests on Jungkook's chest. It raises up and down slowly, regularly, only to lift up for a little longer when he lets out his adorable chuckle or when he talks to himself out loud to comment on the sit-com rolling on his laptop. Still in a haze, you press your ear against his chest to listen better to his beating heart, a tum tum tum sound that reverberates through every inch of you and makes you curl more against him. 
"Hey…" he mumbles, noticing that you're now awake. He shifts on his spot, keeping an arm around your shoulder to not let you wriggle away. "You fell asleep almost immediately… you were pretty tired, mh?" He brushes his thumb on the area close to your mouth, giving a small peck on the tip of your nose. 
"A bit…" you manage to say, quietly, sinking in his eyes full of constellations. 
Jungkook caresses your face with his stare only, lingering on your lips. “You stay, mh?” His voice is low, a gentle brush multifaceted with fear and expectation and sweetness that punches the breath out of you. 
When you give him an imperceptible nod, Jungkook cages you into his arms to kiss you, and you accept him without holding back. You let yourself go in the slow kiss he's pulling you in, your hands clinging to his shoulder blades as he rolls your positions to hover over you. 
It's a silent way to tell him that you won’t leave, this time.
And you don’t.
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"I love you as certain dark things are to be loved. In secret. Between the shadow and the soul."
  Months and seasons felt all the same since Namjoon's been gone, like time lost every sense; and yet, since you've given in to the attraction you feel for Jungkook, you've started to count days again. 
You count the seconds spent to sink in his liquid doe eyes when he stares at you, before leaning down to plant a kiss upon your lips; you count the seconds your fingers spend to wander upon his arms, tracing the bluish veins branching from the back of his hands along his honey-like skin; you count the seconds spent to listen to the meaning behind every single tattoo scattered on his body, when you question about them. You count the minutes for his breath to go back to normal, after the orgasm; you count the minutes his fingers spend in your hair, twiddling with the locks, drawing patterns and doodles on the top of your head. You count the hours made of whispered talk in the darkness of his bedroom, or in the chill breeze of your garden. 
Time makes sense again. 
Time is Jungkook's voice; his laugh; his glossy eyes; his body above your own; his warm skin against yours. Time is Jungkook's sadness when he mentions his parents. Time is Jungkook's long and deep silences when he thinks about college and the oblivion ahead of him. Time is Jungkook's excitement when he talks about his tattoos or his friends or his upcoming trip to Jeju, once this holiday will be over. 
Time is a small opening of barely a few months, and you breathe in every millisecond of it to remind yourself that all this messy tangle of orgasms and confessions and gentle touches will be over soon. 
Sat around a table of Min's restaurant, you look outside the window, observing the few persons strolling beyond the glassy surface -mainly tourists, considering you can't recognise their faces. The playful chat of your friends, having dinner with you now that you've all finished your shift, is a muffled sound that hits against the barrier of memories whirling fast in your mind…
"You can't fuck off clients, Yoongi-chi." Seokjin's voice is playful, but notched with a note of complaint. "Thank God your mother's the boss. You'd be on your ass by now…"
(Day 1, Jungkook fucked you on his sofa. His hands under your knees to keep your legs up; your breast glistening wet for the kisses he scattered over there. The smacking sound of his hips colliding against yours; your hands curled around nothing for the pleasure brewing in your groin. His throaty moans; your soundless moans. His orgasm shaped like stuttered breaths, eyes squeezing shut, teeth clamping at his bottom lip . You felt his thick, warm liquid against your walls, it made you come too…)
Yoongi snaps his tongue. "That dude deserved it. Making fun of my blue hair, tsk." He pours some beer in his glass, poking his tongue on his cheek.
(Day 2, Jungkook kissed you under the old tree close to the mountain trails. You were sitting on his lap, his hand on your cheek to keep your head firm into position as his tongue languidly grazed yours. He whispered in your ear that he'd like to fuck you here, in this precise instant, his low voice sent shivers down your spine. Once back to your home, you sucked him off in the small hall before you could reach the sofa…)
Seokjin gapes at him. " He's five years old, for God's sake!" 
"Better educate him now!"
(Day 5, Jungkook fucked you on the couch, still wearing your clothes on. His trousers down his calves, the sleeves of your dress along your arms. You moved slowly on top of him, gyrating your hips to feel him more, his hands gripping at your waist to guide the pace. Strawberry in his breath, lemonade on your tongue. Red spots on his neck, kisses prints shining wet on your exposed cleavage. The light coming from his laptop bathed your figures in a bluish hue that created shapeless doodles on the pleasure molding his face. Between moans, he whispered that he imagined you two like this the very first time you talked to him at the park. Before being washed by the orgasm, he admitted he jerked off in the shower, thinking of you…)
You shift on your spot, legs squeezing tight for the sudden warmth spreading along your folds. Unable to control the fantasies unfolding in the back of your eyelids, you rest your chin on your fist, face flushed and legs shaking.
It's incredible how Jungkook is pretty honest when it comes to sex: there's firmness in his voice when he admits that you're always on his mind when he touches himself; there's yearning in his words when he vocalizes his desires while you're fucking -the resoluteness in telling you what he wants you to do to him, what he likes. 
You should feel your heart sink upon the realization that Jungkook is using you only to fill his time and take care of his libido; but… now that you think of it, it's probably for the best that he makes sure to remark that you two are meant for being a summer fling so shamelessly. It's a good way to remind yourself that you're just orgasms and sex, swiping away every silly hope—!
"You are—(Y/N), say something!" Seokjin slaps his hands on his thighs, recalling your attention. 
You straighten yourself, staring at him with a vague stare. You blink twice, racking your brain frantically to understand why he's now talking to you, and what you should actually reply to. However, no matter how hard you put your thinking cap on, you don't have a clue of the crux of their conversation. 
You take a sip of your beer, aware that they won't let you breathe for your lack of participation. "What?" 
Jin doesn't seem annoyed by your behavior. Actually, he grins widely. "Someone here is distracted." His eyes crinkle in the corner in a malicious way that has your cheekbones reddening. "Don't worry, we know what's filling your thoughts. Or better, who ."
Yoongi swallows a slice of steamed pork, eyes pinned to the various side dishes. "Muscled, doe-eyed, with piercings and tattoos. And I bet he's got a pretty enchanting—"
"Ugh, Yoongi-chi, I'm eating!" Seokjin twitches his mouth, the piece of lettuce slips from his chopsticks and falls on his rice bowl. 
" Heart . I was about to say: heart!"
You let out a soft chuckle, grateful that Yoongi redirected the discussion on a more lighthearted note. 
Nevertheless, Jin isn't intent to let this sink. "So? What were you thinking?"
"Nothing…" you blow out, diverting your stare. 
(Day 8, Jungkook fucked you in the shower. He asked you to follow him after a long afternoon spent hiking and chasing after your dogs -his hair pulled back with a hairband, drops of sweat glistening like tiny diamonds on his honey-like skin. He pulled into you slowly, contemplating your arched spine with parted lips and a glint of excitement in his eyes. His hands gripped hard at your hips to guide you in the rhythm of his thrusts. Between moans and curls of breaths he said your back is beautiful, that he'd love to draw something on it. Between moans and soundless orgasms, he sprinkled your shoulders with kisses, twirling his arms around your middle. Jungkook didn't pull away after coming. He stayed there like this, into you, for a very long, long, long time. For the first time, his fingers intertwined with your own…)
"What?" You ask, feeling their stares boring through your skin like they were trying to open your skull and catch your train of thoughts. 
"Nothing. We are just very, very, very disappointed that you aren't telling your best friends anything about your boytoy." Seokjin claims, pouty. 
You scrunch your nose, nibbling at a slice of seafood pancake. "Ugh, stop calling him like this. You're making me feel like a cougar." You refrain yourself from hitting Seokjin's knee under the table when he admits he'd love to turn into a sugar-daddy someday in the future. "And we don't do anything special, there's nothing to recount."
(Day 11, Jungkook laughed brightly into your ear while laying on his bed, sheets crumpled and rolled at your feet, his naked body bathed of a feeble sunlight seeping through the mist that the rain left behind. He was resting on his tummy, legs swinging back and forth in a childish mannerism as he looked at you through his lashes, admiring the bits of hair scattered along the pillow and your face. His hand on your bare stomach, your fingers dancing along his tattooed arm. You sketched the contours of the inked microphone and he confessed he took it because he used to play in a band when he was in high school -he wanted to become a great rockstar, someone who stays on a stage and sees an ocean of fans singing his own songs. With sadness tugging at the corners of his mouth, he said he stopped singing since he's dropped out of college. With a sheepish smile on his face, he said that he sings a lot more lately when he does his little daily things like cooking or taking Bam out or drawing. With a shadow of sweetness weighing upon his lids, he said that he started doing it again since you've welcomed him into your life. You drank his honest words with a gasp that stuck in your throat, like air was missing in your lungs…)
Yoongi pours some soju into his glass, arching a brow. "I don't know. The way he looked at you tonight doesn't seem nothing to me." A smirk etches itself across his face, flushed for the liters of alcohol he already gulped. "His face was bursting when you greeted him." 
"C'mon, you're exaggerating."
"'M not. Trust me, I could've cooked an egg on those cheeks." Seokjin leans better against his seat back, scrutinizing the skepticism dancing along your features. "You don't want to know how his eyes turned bright whenever you were bending over a table. Guess he's gotta a huge thing for your butt—"
"Did you already have your doggy-style moment?" Yoongi asks, shamelessly.
"Oh, geez, stop you two…" 
( Day 12, Jungkook's kisses are butterflies fluttering around your belly. Through your lashes, you studied the creases of your skirt rolled up to your tummy, heart thumping fast in your throat in the anticipation of his mouth resting on your warm center. Blood pumped up to your face for his hot breath on your wet folds, your walls contracted around nothing when he placed a kiss on your clit. And another. And another… The tip of his tongue flickering languidly on that plump button full of nerves made you squirm and moan, his fingers pulling into you at the pace of your breath made you see stars hanging on the ceiling. You came upon his mouth, back arching and brain shutting off for a couple of seconds that stretched to infinity. Despite the hard bulge caged in his briefs, Jungkook didn't want you to pay him back with a good blowjob. He just stared at you, eyes shining wet. For the first time, he told you that you're beautiful. For the first time in a very long while, you didn't run away from someone who tells you that you're beautiful..)
"So?"
Yoongi fills your mutism. "Mom says you're going out together."
You cast a glance upon the window. "We... We aren't going out together. Not in the way you or your mother thinks."
(Day 14, you sucked Jungkook off in your kitchen. Soy sauce and ginger flavor floating in the air, the water boiling. He was leaning against the furniture, his trousers and boxers down to his calves, his hands grabbing hard around the hem of the t-shirt pulled up enough to reveal his sculpted stomach, muscles flexing at every surge of pleasure. Bluish veins were pulsing and branching along his arms as he hardly tried to not thrust into your mouth faster. He tilted his head back, gasping for air, and incoherently mumbled something about you giving amazing blowjobs. You let him come in your mouth…)
"Mom told me she sees you go out every morning around 9:00 AM, and you come back around noon. There's a pretty curious four hours gap there..." Seokjin analyzes. 
"We just take a walk around, or we take our dogs out for a walk." You let out a bored sigh, shaking your bottle to understand how much beer is left. "He's practically using me as a tourist guide, that's all." 
"My mom saw you leave his house at 5:00 AM once." Yoongi barges in, peacefully. 
"Oh, my—"
Seokjin frowns. "Why was your mother already awake at that hour?"
"She says menopause doesn't make her sleep, I don't know." Yoongi flaps a hand, setting his amused stare on your flushed face. "So? What were you doing there?"
(Day 19, Jungkook asked you to stay the night. A movie, the tea getting colder on his night table, whispered words on his pillow in the darkness of his bedroom. 
He recounted about his lovely odd best friend Taehyung, who seemed to be born in the wrong epoch; about his childhood friend Jimin, and the little quarrel they had for having a huge crush over the same classmate during elementary school; about the boundless affection he feels for them. His fingers danced along your palm, followed the natural creases notching your skin, curled around your own in a soft grasp he hasn't disentangled even once. You told him about Seokjin, who was the first to treat you and Namjoon like you weren't two strangers; about Yoongi, who used to spill every tiny doubt to Namjoon whenever he felt the world crumbling beneath his feet; about the brightness they shed into your life. You captured Namjoon's name in an open-mouthed kiss before he could question you about him. 
With goosebumps dancing along your bare skin, you engulfed Jungkook inch by inch, fucked him at your own pace. For the first time, Jungkook breathed out your name while coming into you. For the first time, Jungkook clung at you during your sleep and mumbled your name along your nape. For the very first time in a long while, you didn't run away from someone who hugs you in your sleep and says your name with so much fondness…)
"We watched a movie and I fell asleep. I went away as soon as I woke up," you say, vaguely, feeling your heart beating in every inch of you. 
"And you think we'll buy it?" Seokjin snaps his tongue. "C'mon, tell us something about him."
"I imagine you'll talk between a blowjob and another."
You dart an annoyed glance at Yoongi, Seokjin lets out his windshield laughter, capturing the attention of a group of girls not so far from your table. 
You rack your brain to search for the bare minimum and harmless information you can spill about Jungkook.
"He... He was born in Busan, and moved to Seoul to study but dropped out of university. His best friend told him he could use his grandparents' house until he understands what he wants to do with his life."
"Oh, the college-crisis, we all went through it at some point."
Seokjin scrunches his nose. "Speak to yourself. I never had problems." He turns to you -not before raising his glass of wine in the direction of the girls, making them giggle (you'd like to tell him that they've probably become adults a few days ago, but you aren't in the right position to talk). "And what was he studying?"
"Filmography. He loves editing videos and such." Sweetness shapes your mouth in a small smile that reaches your eyes. "He made me see some projects he made for his classes. He's talented…"
"Aw…" Seokjin chuckle sinks you back down to earth. "We've finally found the director for our first Yoongi's MV. Wait, how was your stage name back in high school? AugustD—"
"Fuck off! I don't accept jokes from someone who used to call himself worldwide-handsome for absolutely no reason!" Yoongi's voice raises two notches higher, his fingers running to scratch the back of his crimson ear. 
"What are you saying, sweetheart? I still call myself worldwide-handsome !"
(Day 23, Jungkook knocked at your door around 10:00 PM, unannounced. His eyes were red and puffy, traces of ghostly tears were gliding down his cheeks. Betweens sips of breath, he told you he had an argument with his parents on the phone because he doesn't know if he wants to go back to studying -he doesn't know what to do. They told him he's wasting his future, and you felt the area around your eyes swelling up while he tried to clean his face with the back of his hands. He asked if he could stay, and you let him in, heart falling into pieces at every soft sob tumbling off his mouth. You kept him close in a soft embrace while watching a movie, his ear resting on your chest. Wrapped in a cozy silence, you asked him if he wanted you to blow him; he said : no, maybe later, it's ok like this . 
The next morning, he hugged you from behind while you were watering Namjoon's bonsai. Jungkook inhaled sharply through his nose before sinking his face on your shoulder, blowing a soft: " Thank you, (Y/N). I feel a lot better." that punched the breath out of you.
For the first time after days made of orgasms and chase each other's pleasure, you didn't fuck…)
"And, did he choose what to do?" Yoongi stretches to grab a piece of lettuce, he uses it to wrap it around a slice of pork. 
You shake your head, sipping your beer. "He still doesn't know. He'd like to go back to studying. Other times, he'd like to pack his things and travel around the world. Some other times, he'd like to find a job and settle himself. He's a bit confused..."
Yoongi nods, swallowing. "I think it'd be a great stripper. Or a good porn actor. But, well, you're the only one who can judge this."
( Day 30, Jungkook confessed that his first time had been in fourth grade. She was a year older, she used to tutor him in math. She had a pair of brown eyes that glistened every time he looked at her, and a bright smile that made his stomach painfully twirl. She was the first kiss in an empty street after years upon years spent watching rom-com anime, wondering how it'd be; she was the first time in her bedroom when her parents were away for the weekend, the last album of IU rolling in her stereo, her thighs wrapped around his waist like a vise as he contemplated her moving upon him. They stayed together for a year, then she dumped him for a college student -a friend of her sister, apparently. 
Between giggles and sheepish smiles, he admitted that she broke his heart in a million, tiny pieces, because he was too much in deep with her. His fingers were curled around your own for the entire duration of his tale while you were strolling along the trail that leads to the river, throwing some stones and twigs to make Bam and Moon play. Gasping once, he said that he has never had many girlfriends; actually, he's too lazy even for embarking into friends-with- benefits affairs, because they require a good dose of strength and patience to not let your feelings grow. Sinking in your attentive stare, he said that he prefers staying on his own because he isn't cut for serious relationships; because he isn't good at taking care of another human being's needs. While he was taking off a leaf from your hair, he smiled sweetly, and told you that lately he thinks about his life in two.
Also that day, you didn't fuck…)
Seokjin's chuckle fades into Yoongi's curses, mumbled under his breath. "What did he say about Namjoon?" His smile trembles, flips off his face slowly before your persistent silence. "You told him about Namjoon, didn't you?"
You take a breath but it sticks in your throat. "Not… exactly."
Yoongi curses again, turning to you. "(Y/N), holy shit, c'mon… what the fuck are you waiting for?!"
( Day 35, Jungkook asked you what's behind the locked door close to the kitchen, observing Moonie laying in front of it every single second of his day, like he was desperately waiting for someone to get out of that room anytime soon. While you were folding some of your clothes, piled up beside his hoodie smelling of lemon, you told him that it's Namjoon's studio -full of all the things he left behind; of all the things you've hidden to feel his absence less. Abandoning the comic that was laying on his lap,  Jungkook neared you and kissed your left eyelid, your cheekbone, your mouth. Brushing some hair away from your face, he told you that your husband is an idiot for going away, leaving so many important things. You, above them all. Letting out a high-pitched giggle, he told you that he's ready to kick his ass when he'll be back for all the suffering he caused you. With your heart dropping in your stomach, you swallowed back the truth, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.
Also that day, you didn't fuck…)
Yoongi darts you a judging stare, brows snapping together. "You know that the longer you wait, the worse it will be." He pokes the tip of his tongue on his cheeks. "You'll break his heart." 
You lower your stare, picturing Jungkook's precious smile fading away from his face…
Seokjin curls his lips. "I'm not a saint, but starting a story based on lies isn't exactly a good thing…"
Your heart squeals when the picture of Namjoon suddenly appears in the back of your mind and blends with Jungkook's, who's filling your heart and mind little by little.
"(Y/N)—"
"Can - can we talk about something else?" You interrupt, massaging your temples. "Jin, tell us more about your new job."
"Honey, you know that I love being the center of attention… but I'm not going to monopolize the conversation with my amazing life in the big city until you tell us what's between you two."
"Ok, we sometimes fuck. Can we move on?"
"We already know you two fuck. Even my mother knows you fuck him," Yoongi barges in, still annoyed for your incapacity to talk about Namjoon openly. "We want the details." 
"Like, not those kinds of details. But, like, is he good? Do you like it?" 
"He's…" amazing . "Good."
Seokjin nods. "And so? What are you two exactly?"
( Day 36, Jungkook asked you to tell him about Namjoon. To recount exactly how you two met, who was the first to ask each other out; if it was love at first sight, if it took him a lot to sort out his feelings for you, if you always knew he was the right one. He asked you about his wedding proposal, about the wedding itself. Watermelon juice drooled on your chin as you watched him stroll in your garden, studying Bam busy chasing a butterfly. The warm summer breeze was twiddling with his hair, now long enough to be worn in a tiny half-tail; the expectation floating in his eyes was so intense to make the mild queasiness in your stomach brew. Capturing every tiny detail of him, you thought that something will surely miss when he won't be here anymore. Brushing away from your chin a rivulet of juice with his thumb, he asked you if you are still in love with Namjoon. You replied to every single question tumbled off his mouth, except for this one. This one was too much. Jungkook stopped questioning you about your past, aware he crossed the invisible line you had traced from the very beginning. Curling his fingers around the fabric of your smooth summer dress, his lips melted against your own in a kiss that took your breath away. Upon the gentle touch of the tip of his tongue, you thought you heard him say a soft: "I hate I was - was born so late" while his fingers were tucking some hair behind your ear.
You don't fuck that day either…)
"I… don't know." You shake your head, trying to maintain a bit of rationality. "It's not like we've talked about us, or we felt the need to label this. We just live day by day…" 
"Well, I guess you sort of put things cleared before starting this… thing ," Seokjin inspects, unsure. 
"Not really, no. It happened, and we didn't stop." You trail your stare to the empty bottle of soju, Yoongi's stare scorches your skin. "We sometimes fuck, we sometimes don't. A casual thing."
(Day 40, today afternoon. Jungkook asked you if you could spend the day together, but you told him that you promised Jin and Yoongi to have dinner together after your shift. With a glint of sadness floating in his doe eyes, he undressed you slowly, studied every inch of your skin crossed by goosebumps as if this was your last moment on earth together; with a bitter taste in your mouth, you took off every single cloth from his figure, tracing every inch of him with your fingers. Your first orgasm was shaped in a small moan brushed upon his mouth as he pulled his fingers into you, eyes pinned to your face. He used your juices to pump himself a bit, eyes still locked to yours. He pushed the tip against your wet folds, contemplating your lips swollen for the kisses, the shreds of pleasure scattered on your face, indulging in your irregular breath. He pulled into you gently, staring at you through his lashes. You clung at his shoulder blades, your heels pressed against his buttcheeks as he thrusted slowly. Slowly. So slowly you couldn't feel the end. Jungkook didn't take his eyes off your own for a second. You felt… loved , for a very brief moment. Then, you came again, he came, and you forgot about it.
It tasted like a goodbye fuck…)
"But… What if he's just waiting for you to say something? After all, your situation is way more complicated than his own." Seokjin throws a glance at Yoongi, still annoyed and silent.
A shiver travels down your spine. You think about Jungkook's luggage resting at the feet of his bed, about the clothes already folded in it. You think about the happiness sprinkled all over his face when he talks about Jeju, about the fact that he can't wait to go away with his friends…
"I don't think he wants something more from me." You clench your hands into fists around your knees.
You think about the long kiss he gave you before going back home, today afternoon. About his barely whispered: " Come back to my place when you've finished with your friends, please " that crippled you from head to toe…
"Why?"
You lose the grip around your knees, your fingers run to caress your wedding ring. "He's going to leave at the end of August."
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  " Tell me about your heart,  how it stole breath from my lungs  and still warmed my veins"
  Summer's closure is shaped with Jungkook's airy laughter, constellations shining wet in his doe eyes, and drops of sweat gliding along his temples, gently sketching his sharp features down to his chin. 
Kissed by the morning sunlight that bathes the village, Jungkook is improvising some boxing moves in your backyard garden, fighting against an invisible opponent. He rhythmically jumps back and forth on his toes and heels, keeping his fists high across from his face. There's a little frown of concentration between his knitted brows, jaw clenched for the effort to keep his utmost attention focused on his task before punching the air.
From time to time, Bam seems to welcome his movements like an invitation to play along with him, because he trots around him before jumping and laying his paws on his stomach, interrupting his training. In those moments, the mask of seriousness drops off his face, liquefying in hues of happiness that morph his eyes into two half-moons crinkled in the corner. 
In those moments, you can't help but wonder if happiness can have more than a name and a face…
Jungkook lets out a high-pitched chuckle and your brain instantly shuts off, reminding you that any melody in the whole world could compare with such a marvelous sound -so you must pay your utmost attention, you can't lose even the tiniest bits of it; you need to learn that tune by heart, for when emptiness will be all that's left. 
Drawn by his sudden euphoria, you distract yourself from the grocery list sitting in your notebook, trailing your eyes on him. 
Sitting under a tree, you take in the sight of his bare torso, sketching with your eyes only every well-defined line that makes him a work of art in flesh and bones. You follow a single drop of sweat skimming between his toned pecs, gently crossing its way to his belly button amidst the shining sweaty dew condensed on his abdominals, finally diverting its path only to crash against the hem of his pajama-boxers that runs along his narrow waist. You chew on your bottom lip, a bit disappointed for that useless barrier made of cotton that impedes you to take a glimpse of his gracious crotch.
Jungkook exhales a light giggle when Bam nudges his muzzle on his leg, in a desperate search of cuddles. He hunches over him and places his hands under his ears, mumbling incoherent words in a high-pitched tone he only uses with his beloved dog or Moonie (or whatever is small and cute and adorable). He lifts his chin up and little when Bam tries to lick his cheek, eyes immediately darting in your direction. His lips open in a beaming smile that's warmer than the hot weather blessing this Sunday, it makes goosebump rise along your skin. 
At that sight you've witnessed a thousand times throughout the past months, a feeble thought crosses your mind, snapping you back down to earth.
Next week, Jungkook will leave.
Jungkook will jump on a rickety little van with his two best friends and will cross the pebbly street that passes through your residential area backward. Jungkook will go to Jeju along with people around his age and will soon forget about this village nestled between the mountains -about a woman ten years older than him who went hiking with him and fucked him on her couch and gave him a blowjob in his kitchen and laughed brightly at his jokes and held her breath whenever his fingers intertwined with her own and hugged him tight tight when tears rolled down his cheeks. 
Next week, August will approach its curtain calls and with it, this little bracket of sheer summer carefreeness you've shared…
The corners of your mouth pull up in the slightest in an attempt of a smile, but you divert your stare whisper-quick, too caught up in your own thoughts to sink in his pretty big eyes. With a little sigh withering in your lungs, you go back to focusing on your grocery list, tapping the back of the pen on the page. You try to focus on the various things scattered on the paper, trying to remember what's missing in your pantry, but your mind keeps drifting back to the boy having fun in your backyard -on the unbridgeable void that he'll surely leave behind. 
You sometimes ask yourself if Jungkook has ever been crossed by your same impulse to talk about his imminent departure -about this necessity to label the bond you've developed day by day; but, as you let your mind wander back in time through all the moments you've shared, it's crystal clear that he isn't affected by the situation. 
In all honesty, you haven't touched upon this topic. It's not like you've avoided it or pushed it back to bring it out at a more appropriate moment. It's just… neither of you two has ever felt the urge to tackle it: you've let things flow naturally, like your lives were meant to intertwine only for a season and it's now the time to let them wither. And yet, there were times where words were clogging your throat: you could feel them piling up in your mouth while he was kissing you; the moment before and after an orgasm; when Namjoon's memory pinched at your heart in a sad grip; when you were at the utmost of your happiness. 
It's a good thing, the fact that Jungkook took everything so light-heartedly: it means that he's ready to let this thing (you) go. 
It means that this thing (you) wasn't important… 
It'll be easier to go back to your usual life made of small things and dusty memories of your beloved husband, knowing that Jungkook won't be a piece of your existencial puzzle anymore. 
Your thumb desperately searches for your wedding ring, brushes upon it with delicacy. 
Despite your certainties, though, you can't help but wonder how long it'll take for your brain to forget about Jeon Jungkook. You wonder how little it'll take him to forget about you…
"What are you going to do when summer ends?" Jungkook's sudden question breaks through your consciousness, wafts over you with a bit of uncertainty that titillates your curiosity. "I mean… what do you usually do?" He clarifies, when you finally make eye contact. 
You observe his hands pulling back his sweaty hair to twirl it in a small tail on top of his head, fixing all the bits that don't fit in the elastic. "I go to work…" you manage to say, casting a quick glance at his tensed thighs as he uses his calves like a cushion. "And… I hang out with Jin and Yoongi, I take care of my house when I've some free time. Nothing much, actually." You let out a soft chuckle. "Why?"
He shrugs, caressing his tattooed arm. "I don't know… i'd be nice to see that side - side of your life, too." Words tumble off his tongue with seriousness, eyes fixed on your face for the whole time. 
Your heart lurches in your chest, and a sense of sheer panic insinuates at its spot, now empty… you try to part your lips, but the tension is so thick in your muscles to cripple you from head to toe. 
It's… important . 
His little wish is extremely important. It means that he also wants to spend his autumn and maybe winter and maybe spring and maybe back to summer with you… it means he wants to stay with you.
You shake your head (you're probably misinterpreting the true meaning behind his words. It must be so). "The boring part of me?"
"Don't think it'll be boring, but yeah… the boring part of you." He munches the corner of his mouth, where the piercing circles the flesh. "Pretty sure I'm boring too, somehow." He lets out a small chuckle, stare shifting to Moonie, peacefully resting on the porch. 
"You aren't…" it escapes in a barely whispered hush, buttered with that scorching tenderness that gushes out every time he puts himself down. He lifts his head up back again to look at you and you instinctively bend your legs close to your chest in a sort of protection, despite the many steps that keep you apart. "Anyway, believe me, there's nothing exciting in my life or this village when summer is over," you cut short the conversation, hoping that your sudden closure will refrain him from delving further into it. 
You're ready to let him go, he must go…
Jungkook stays still, clenches his hands into fists only to unfold them soon after. After a few seconds, he stands up, tilting his head to both sides to crack his neck. His footfalls waft over you delicately, your heart squeals and smashes against your chest at every inch that nullifies beneath his feet, and it drops into your twirled stomach when the boy is now across from you, hiding the sunlight behind his body. He must have sensed something is off in your recent behavior, because he leans over you slowly, as if he was dealing with a wild animal ready to dash away. Starry eyes locked into yours, he rests his hands beneath your knees and gently pulls you forward to situate himself between your legs, now twirled around his waist. Jungkook shifts on his spot to lay comfortably, grazing your covered center with his crotch.
Shivers travel down your spine, the thin hair on your nape raises up as your mind drifts back to the night you've spent in your bedroom -his bare body resting on the same portion that used to belong to Namjoon (you suddenly want to throw up). You can still feel his languid stare set on your hands gently guiding his dick into you, engulfing him inch by inch by inch; you can still feel his fingers digging into your hips, following a pace marked by the throaty groans flying out his parted lips; you can still hear your name reverberating through the small room in a squelched melody morphed into an orgasm -gentle, soft, just like Namjoon used to do when you took care of his pleasure (you suddenly want to throw up. And shove him away. And cry). 
Jungkook inhales sharply through his nose, placing a long kiss on your cheek. And another. And another…
You let out a giggle, unable to wriggle out of his grip. "Hey, calm down. Someone here is trying to act like a proper adult ." You joke, tapping the back of the pen on his shoulder. 
"Haven't you finished yet?" His bottom lip juts out. "The youngster here is bored." He playfully complains, the trail of feather-like pecks travels toward your ear. "Can't we just - just go to the supermarket and put all that we want in the shopping cart?" 
"I'm too broke for that. Guess you chose the wrong cougar." 
Jungkook lets out an airy laughter that sets in your lungs and chest, filling them to the brim. He gives you a quick kiss on your mouth before laying gently on top of you, his ear pressed against your breast. Curling his fingers around the fabric of your shirt, he exhales a chuckle for absolutely no reason -and it makes you all warm inside, the idea that happiness might cocoon him just because you and him are together. 
You let out a sigh, a small smile etching itself on your face. "Guess I can take a small break..." You twirl an arm around his shoulders, while the other hand twiddles with the tiny tail. 
Jungkook inhales sharply through his nose, indulging in your strokes. "(Y/N)... There's something I want to ask you." His voice is low, a little trembling, it's barely audible in the persistent chirp of birds all around you. He exhales one of those mouth-sounds he makes when he's fumbling for words and a gush of panic starts brewing in the abyss of your chest. "I was thinking… it's been a little - little while actually, but what if… ahm, would you mind if I stay?" 
You swallow, ignoring the possibility that there might be something deeper behind his question (after all, you're ready to let him go. He must go). 
"For lunch? Sure. What would you like to eat?" You grab a lock falling over his forehead and curl it between your fingers. "But, ugh, someone here is impeding me to go to the supermarket. We'll probably have to eat flowers and grass."
He chuckles softly, his cheek brushes on your breast when he shakes his head. "I didn't - didn't mean only today. But… you know - you know that I've to leave soon, but I was thinking… I can stay ." 
Oh…
Your muscles tense up all at once. His words are the prelude of a scary conversation you thought (prayed and hope) would never exist, and Jungkook pronounces it with absolute quietness -as if he accepted that things have to go in this way; but, at the same time, you can manage for you two to have a sense even after his departure. 
A huge void opens in the pit of your stomach, sucks your heart in and triturates it in a pulpy mess; but still you can hear its beat frantically thumping in every inch of you. 
"I can stay next week, too. And also the other one. And the other..." He hesitates before turning to gaze up at you, basking in the thick silence you're giving him back. Eyes shining wet, brimmed with fear of rejection, he sinks in your wide stare. "We can be - be together…"
You gasp once. And twice. And a third time. But air doesn't seep in, it sticks in your dry throat and doesn't travel down to your lungs. You feel like fainting.
Does Jungkook really want to stay here? With you?
Why?
He can't. He must go away. 
This village can't offer him anything. You can't offer him anything. You… you've your life here. A simple life with anything extraordinary happening and-and why would he ever accept this bore? Him, who wants to live his existence at its fullest and doesn't like to stay in the same place for a long time… it'd be like caging him. What if you let him stay and then he gets bored and suddenly leaves? Soon you'll go back to your working days, you won't have so much time to dedicate to him and… and he'll realize that you aren't as carefree as you are during summer. This ten-year-gap between you two will become palpable, and he'll regret having wasted his young days time with you. 
And Namjoon…
And there's Namjoon, too. What if Namjoon will never leave your heart? What if Jungkook's presence will make you forget about the incredible man who helped you to turn into the woman you're today?
You love Namjoon with every fiber of your being, and you aren't ready to let him go… but you are ready to let Jungkook go, you are…
Are you? 
"No…" this simple word flies out your mouth above a whisper, but hits him like a slap in his face, because he immediately pulls himself away from you. 
Jungkook's eyes grow wider, the liquid sparks floating into them dangerously flicker. "W - what?" His smile quivers, withers upon the visible trembling in your shoulders. "(Y/N), I—" He sits on the grass using his feet like a little cushion and gives you the saddest look you've ever seen on someone's face (it breaks your heart into a million pieces). "W… why not?"
You put yourself into a stretched position, moving backward to lean against the tree. "You… you can't stay. You can't."
He frowns, fingers curling around nothing. "I can't…"
"No, I mean… you shouldn't." You bend your legs close to your chest. "You should—you had plans with your friends. And to go back to Busan, you—" you moisten your trembling lips. "Why would you ever want to stay here?"
Jungkook's eyelids flutter fast in surprise. "Because you are here… " his confession is genuine, firm, like he thought a lot about it and this idea calcified in his heart and mind. "I can go to Jeju another time. And to Busan, too. The fact is… no matter where I go, I think I'll keep coming back here." His hand runs to grab at the opposite bicep. "I… want to stay here, with you, and try . We work pretty well together."
You swallow. "Jungkook, you don't belong here."
"You didn't belong here either." 
"But I've got a job here, and I moved with Namjoon—" his name tastes bitterly on your palate. "My life is here. You, instead, you—"
"I'm a boy who doesn't know what to do with his life," he interrupts, bitterly smiling. "But I'm young, I've all the time to understand what's the best for me—"
Namjoon used to say the same. That he was still young, he had all the time to do many things and visit many places. He told you that you two had all your whole life ahead of you, together… but that's not true. That's a fucking lie. Time… time is fleeting. Time doesn't care about anyone. Time grabs what's important to you and obliges you to keep going without it, dealing with the smothering absence every single day…
"I'm—things won't be like this, when summer will end," you fumble for words, setting your stare on everything except for him -who's sad, but hopeful. "Soon I'll go back to work, I won't have much time to dedicate to you. I'll be… nervous and angry and—"
"I don't care, I want to try anyway," he interrupts, softly, unperturbed about the eventuality that things might crumble at the first hint of adversity. "I… I want to see if we work well also when things get hard. Aren't you curious?"
You are. And you aren't. The fact is that you were so convinced that Jungkook would leave, you didn't think too much about you two together -and now that he's offering you this chance on a silver plate, you're frightened to death: if things fuck up, it'll be easy for him to move on and find another place, but you… you'll be left here alone to recollect all the pieces of your shattered heart and you can't do this to it (to you) anymore. If things will work, instead, you'll risk replacing Namjoon's memory and you can't do this to him, you—!
Your fingers run to grab at your wedding ring. They caress it convulsively, like your whole life depended on it. "It's just a summer fling…" you mumble, vaguely, talking to yourself rather than with him.
"It had to be…" but Jungkook hears you perfectly, and barges in with absolute peacefulness. Resoluteness streams in his eyes, and you can't help but be scared of all his honesty and yearning of trying. "(Y/N), I do l—" he chews on his bottom lip, swallowing whatever he was about to tell you. His stare trails to your ring, and a small sigh leaves his mouth. "Is it because of your husband?" 
A burst of rage suddenly fogs your mind, notches your voice and words in a high-pitched trembling. "Why do you always have to talk about him?!" 
"Because you still love him!" A vibrant flush spreads to the tip of his ears, hands clenched into fists. The annoyance flickers between his tensed features, as if he was finally releasing every ounce of it. "Because you still love him and I don't get how can you still love an idiot who left you—"
An idiot…
"He made you come here, and then he left. And you - you're still waiting for him and—"
Namjoon isn't an idiot…
"And I don't get it! If you love him so fucking much why don't you just call him and ask him to - to try again, instead of wallowing in self-pity—"
"Namjoon is dead …" 
The seriousness of your words don't impact your mind the exact moment they fly out your mouth. Actually, it takes you quite a few seconds to process what you've just said. Without shedding tears. Without screaming or raising your voice.
The truth you've hidden from Jungkook for all these months is shaped with quietness (with the same quietness you've asked him if he preferred a toast or cereal, this morning, when he hugged you from behind to announce his presence). 
You tuck some hair behind your ear, unable to look at the boy across from you -you don't want to see what type of expression is dawning on his face right now, you couldn't stand it.
"Namjoon, he… we didn’t divorce. He… he passed away. A year and a half ago, he took a bike ride and a car, ahm—" You munch the corner of your mouth, the area around your eyes swells up.
You still feel the metallic smell of blood in the air, the warmth of tears streaming down your scarlet cheeks, the powerfulness of a scream you've squelched into your throat, the warmth of Seokjin and Yoongi's embrace when you felt weak in your knees.
Everything is so vivid, as if you were living that moment every single day of your existence… 
Jungkook's expression changes. It looks like a leaf curling on itself at the first touch of winter. There's… disappointment; surprise; shame. He looks like someone who wants to put as much distance as possible between you two…
"You didn't tell me…" he mumbles, shaking his head. "You… you said you - you divorced, you—"
"I didn't," you interrupt, "You talked about divorce."
"Ah. So it's my fault?!"
"No, I just—I just grabbed the occasion." Your stare shakes before his frown, so you lower it to search for a safe spot but everything in Jungkook's body is so tensed up for the rage you feel your heart dropping in the pit of your stomach.
"Why didn't you tell me the truth?"
Because Jungkook had to leave at the end of August, so why bother?
"I… don't want to talk about him with you."
Because it's easier, like this. It's easier to keep him close to your heart if you mention Namjoon as little as possible. It's easier to smother in the bud every emotion arising for another man if you treat your husband like a wanderer who's lost his way back home. 
Waiting for someone who will never return reminds you that you loved him with every inch of you, with every breath you've taken -and you don't want to know if someone as special as him does exist because it doesn't feel quite right…
A faint crackling sound coming from Jungkook's direction catches your attention. He slowly stands up, heavily, like his whole body was made of iron and cement. You briefly take a glimpse of his face, brimmed with creases of sadness that have you turning to the other side.
Jungkook scratches his nape. “It's better - better if I go home. I've got some things to do.” Without looking at you, he gives you a small smile -so small that you can read between its cracks.
Jungkook won't search for you anymore.
It’s too much for him. He’s twenty three after all. Why should he put up with a woman whose past is a luggage full of ghosts that she doesn't want to let go? Why should he spend his days with someone who doesn't trust him enough to share a huge piece of herself? 
Why should he stay with you, when you treated him like a boy worth only a summer? 
The only thing Jungkook leaves to you is his low voice as he calls Bam, patting a hand on his thigh to invite him to follow him. The tiny screeching sound he made while greeting Moonie. The footfalls disappearing behind the light thud of the door. 
Then, the emptiness.
The same emptiness that wrapped you when Seokjin was crying through a phone and you had understood that your life wouldn't be the same anymore. It's just… of a different shape. But not less painful.
It's ok. You can get used to it.
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  "I’ll hug you so hard you’ll remember it a while; Late at night smiling, sensing me all around you; Your devoted loving ghost..." 
The good thing about summer flings is that they're meant to run out in the warm weather that starts getting lukewarmer, while the breeze prepares to welcome a new September, hauling away all the words and gestures you've spilled light-heartedly. 
It's comforting to know that certain things will stay forever on the surface, without growing… sure, there's a bitter taste for all those " what if?" that naturally sprouted at every skipped beat of your heart; but they're just this: " ifs " and " buts ", and they soon will be forgotten without any pain.
Jungkook, exceptionally, is one of those " what if?” and "ifs" and "buts" that hurt all your bits…
It's lacerating the way he seeps through your thoughts undisturbed, reminding you that all the good and profound you've built had ended in a thick silence that had you sitting under a tree as if your soul just left your body -stare fixed on the exact point you've last observed his hunched figure, like you were expecting for him to come back and save the situation. 
It's lacerating the fact that amidst the many memories of Jungkook you've shielded between the folds of your brain, the only one that comes back to haunt you is his face crumpled with sadness for your firm rejection. 
Not his doe glistening eyes; not his toothy smiles; not his airy laughter that lifts you up above the clouds… just sheer sorrow. And bitter disappointment. And regret. 
All because of you…
And you hate him for his capacity to get under your skin and capture your utmost attention: for the very first time since he's bumped into your life, you regret letting him take a step into your intimacy -so much and deep that you can't help but feel sad for shattering his heart and hopes. 
And you shouldn't, because Jungkook is alive.
Jungkook is still alive and he's twenty three years old and he'll recover soon from this sort of heartbreak and you'll become just a meaningless summer story he'll flaunt with his friends when he's a bit drunk. You should address all your sorrow to Namjoon. Because Namjoon isn't here anymore and he was too young to leave this place and he wanted to do and see so many things and when he left, he took with himself all the projects you created for you two.
He took away the best part of you, because you weren't ready to let him go…
The love you had for him was so scorching and blazing high and still is; but Jungkook's arrival cooled it down, and you started thinking that maybe, out there, someone else worth sharing their life with you does exist.
You hate that Jungkook is slowly replacing Namjoon's memories with his own; and yet, at the same time, you can't help but wonder how the new boy with big doe eyes and a gentle smile is doing…
A little sigh seeps through your lips, stretched into a thin line. 
It's been almost a week since you've seen Jungkook, and your heart hasn't stopped bleeding since then. 
You aren't very much surprised about his choice to stand aside, considering the harsh ending between you two: you witnessed firsthand how men tend to walk away after a discovery of this scale -especially when you're too broken and it's too damn difficult to help you recollect all that pieces you've scattered around. In this specific situation, though, it's also true that you dropped the bomb out of the blue, without giving him any time to metabolize the truth you kept from him for all these months. Moreover, even if Namjoon's death wasn't a weight too huge to sustain, Jungkook is still too young for this: he came here to give a sense to his own life, searching for some carefreeness and for an answer to all those questions that devour him from the inside… Why should he saddle with this—!
“(Y/N), if you like that mug so much, you can have it." Seokjin's voice breaks through your consciousness abruptly. The panda-mug you're holding for three minutes straight almost slips through your hands as you slowly regain control of yourself. 
You blink twice, trailing your stare from Jin's amused expression to the mug (it's chipped on the handle because Joonie accidentally made it fall while taking it out of the cupboard). "No, thanks…" you run the thumb on the cracked area, before grabbing a piece of newspaper to wrap around it with a nervous gesture. "You know it disgusts me to drink from a panda's head." You place it carefully in a box full of other mugs and glasses, feeling your heart drop into your stomach.
Seokjin is going away, and you haven't metabolized this news yet.
Yoongi snaps his tongue, shaking his head in disappointment. "(Y/N), c'mon, this was your good chance to destroy that abomination."
"You don't understand anything about art." Seokjin puffs his cheeks. "And you know it's just like my Linus' blanket. I—"
Yoongi and you sigh, saying contemporaneously, "You have had it since you were a little child, your brother chose it for you and—"
"Boring. You're boring. I can't wait to move and meet new friends who will appreciate the beautiful me fully!" Jin raises his chin and tilts his head to the side, dramatically delivering you an offended look. 
"We can't wait for you to move once and for all, too." Yoongi studies the cup with tiny mice eating cheese in his hands -it feels like he's debating with himself on smashing it against the wall, judging by the little frown between his knitted brows. 
“Liar! Your mother told me you'll miss me to death!”
“That's not true!”
“Your ears going on fire tell me otherwise, Yoongi-chi—"
You cackle, interrupting their silly quarrel. "I'll miss you a whole lot, instead," you say, noticing his eyes crinkle in the corners and his lips twitching in an amused grimace. "And I'll especially miss your dainties. Nobody cooks Gimbap as divinely as you do." You rest your hand on your stomach, pouting. 
"I believe that (Y/N) is trying to tell you to make yourself useful and go cooking something." Yoongi smirks. "Or that we'll miss just your cooking abilities, you choose."
Seokjin sighs, hands resting on his hips (just like his mother would do). "Oh, Yoongi-chi, I look forward to receiving your drunk texts in which you admit that this place isn't the same without me, begging me to come back soon." His eyelids flicker up and down fast before his eyeroll, gazing then at the various boxes already closed and piled up in a corner of the living room. A glint of sadness notches the quietness dancing across his delicate features, but it lasts a very few seconds. "Anyway, you're the worst moving company ever hired. You don't deserve my divine Gimbap. But you're lucky, today I'm pretty generous." Seokjin spares you two one last glance before heading toward the kitchen. "I'll call you when dinner is ready. In the meantime, don't break anything without my authorization."
You exhale a light giggle observing his retracting figure. Once left alone, you go back to focusing on your task, basking in the silence now settled upon you two. You close the box in front of you already full and put it on the ground, grabbing another one from under the table. 
Yoongi focuses on the glasses, sometimes commenting under his breath about his best friend's bad taste. He seems overall peaceful about Seokjin's decision -but you can tell from his curved lips that the closer you get to the day of the departure, the more his mood drops six feet under. 
You give him a sidelong glance, scrutinizing the little pout hanging on his lips. "Your mom is worried. She says you're such a gray cloud lately." You wait for a follow-up that doesn't come, but a grunt is all you get in return. "Hey, I'll miss him too. And Jin isn't the type to disappear. He'll surely clog our chats with texts and selfies. It'll be like he never left." You deliver him a reassuring smile, squeezing his shoulder in the process.
Yoongi munches the corner of his mouth. "I know, but it won't be the same… this place won't be the same anymore. It hasn't been for a while now." He puts a cup in the box, shrugging. "Minji first. Then Namjoon. Now Jin…" his droopy eyes grow wider, he turns to you in a rush, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "Ah, shit, I'm sorry (Y/N). I didn't mean to say that just me and you will suck—"
"Don't worry, I know what you mean." You flap a hand, silently telling him that you aren't mad at him. "It's just that everything seems different without certain persons, even if the others stay."
Mornings were all the same, but with Jungkook there was something that scraped their monotony: his laughter in the chirp of cicadas; his smiles, warm like the feeble sunlight seeping through the fronds; his eyes, glistening like the dew covering the flowers; his mouth shaped in a small 'O' whenever he caught a little frog jumping in your garden; his hands grabbing yours while you were taking your dogs out… mornings were all the same, and yet there was something different when Jungkook was here…
When Namjoon was here, too…
"Is it about Jungkook-ah?"
His name pierces through your chest like a thousand needles that morph into butterflies and carries your throbbing heart into your dry throat. It's the first time that Yoongi pronounces his name -he usually calls him: " the new boy " or " boytoy " (it must be serious if he doesn't tease him). 
"No, of course…" you tuck some hair behind your ear, swallowing. "You said it, he's just a boy. He came here to spend his holidays, he had some fun, and now he's going away." You hunch over the box, unable to sustain the inevitable sadness that this subject brings along. "Those like him don't leave any impression."
"They do. He does… he did from the first day. It's not easy to forget those like him." A small smile etches itself on his face. "Namjoon would have liked him."
You feel a pang into your chest, probably because that statement is true. Namjoon would have liked Jungkook. He would have invited him over to your place for a beer to talk about your dogs, his course of study, the collection of manga that fills his bedroom; the three of you would have probably visited every tiny corner of this village, together… 
Uncontrollably, the corners of your mouth quirk up. "I know… he would have probably taken him under his wing. You know, staying up all night to find a way to help him..."
"Yeah, Namjoon was like this." Yoongi chuckles, his gummies now exposed. "That's why you don't want to stay with him?" His question isn't harsh, but it digs in your chest and pinches your sense of guilt. His features soften before your shaky eyes. "(Y/N), I saw the way he looked at you, he isn't… a boy dealing with a passing crush. He looks like someone who wants to stay here with you. Here , holy shit…" his jaw clenches, as if the simple decision to stay in this village of his own accord could be some kind of proof of love . "You can't push him away like you always do, you—"
"I already did…" your confession tumbles off your mouth in a trembling hush, but Yoongi heard him clearly. You stay still, too scared to turn and sink in his eyes veiled with astonishment and disappointment. "He asked me if he could stay. You know, giving up on his plans with his friends, his future… I rejected him. I can't do this to him."
" He can't do this to himself, you mean. He's old enough to choose what's best for his own life…" Yoongi spits his words with firmness, but there's a note of understanding in his voice that makes you feel less alone (and guilty). "(Y/N), let's be honest… you just don't want to hurt yourself." He lets out a sigh, scratching his nape. "You're scared to fall in love again with someone new and be left alone again. But, (Y/N), it's such bullshit… nobody knows how these things go. Like, you and Namjoon were an amazing couple, but you'll never have the certainty that it'd have been forever."
Yoongi's words hit you like a bucket of icy water. Your fingers curl into fists, you'd like to slap him in his face for the harshness in his speech… but they're sprinkled with a type of truth that you've always swiped away: the fact that even the biggest love could shatter, at a certain point. But this isn't entirely the crux of the problem. Deep inside of you, a thin voice whispers that you'll never be able to consider Jungkook an important piece of your existence because he'll never be able to match up Namjoon… why should you treat him like he was inferior? 
Jungkook doesn't deserve this cruelty…
Yoongi's hand curls around your shoulder, squeezing it a little. "(Y/N), run to him. Don't treat him like a fucking child. He's big enough to know what he wants, don't—"
"I can't." You shake your head, so hard that your temples pulse. "What if I will never like him like I love Joonie? I'd break his heart, I can't."
"You already broke his heart," he analyzes, lowering his head when you exhale a small whining sound. "Tell him about Namjoon. Tell him the truth, be honest. He'll understand—"
"I did." There's a little crack in your voice as the pictures of that morning flash in the back of your mind. "I told him the truth and he disappeared."
"He disappeared because you hid the truth from him. You rejected him completely . He's angry, ashamed… give him some time."
"No, you should've seen him. He was angry… and scared . It's too much for him to handle." You twirl your arms around your waist, you feel like you're on the cusp of breaking. "He thinks he likes me because we spent a nice summer together, but it won't last. Things will get harder and more serious." You brush your hands on your face, slamming then your arms along your sides. "It's okay, though. I don't care. I knew it wouldn't last anyway. He isn't the first one who goes away after finding out that Namjoon left ."
"Namjoon is dead." Yoongi's voice is a screeching noise that punches you in your stomach. But what's hurt the most is his expression: ripped apart, as if saying these few words cost him half of his life. "Until you won't say it out loud, you won't move on." His hands clench into fists. "(Y/Nk, you kept acting like a sad widow, and we never complained because we respect you and you have all the rights to do things at your own pace… but you're happier since you've met Jungkook-ah. You two, together… you had the same smile you had for Namjoon. I won't stay to the side, watching you fuck up everything. Not this time…" Yoongi breaths out from his nose, lowering his voice. "Go to him. I'm taking care here, you go to him and fix everything—"
"No, no… I prefer staying here." You rest your hands into your hair. You want Yoongi to stop blabbering. You want him to stop slamming the truth in your face with so much brutality. "Jungkook makes me forget about Joonie, and I don't want to. He isn't Joonie, he—"
"But he is another man you love." His words waft over you with delicacy, almost hesitant, like this revelation could be the coup-the-grace to your mental stability. "(Y/N), you won't forget about him. I don't think Jungkook-ah would ever want to replace him, and Namjoon… he'd never want to see you like this…" he shrugs. "You deserve happiness."
"No, it's not fair."
"It is. It's not your fault if things went like this. It's… destiny and all that bullshit. I know it sucks, but it had to happen. And Jungkook-ah's arrival was meant to happen, too…" he turns toward the box in front of him, mumbling, "You can't keep living in the past."
You know it. You know you should let go of Namjoon's ghost and live your life to its fullest; and yet, you feel guilty about the realization that you're still here, having fun, while he isn't… it's so fucking unfair. And even if you'd want to bring Jungkook back into your life, it's—
"It's late…" you mutter, brushing your fingers on your wedding ring. "Jungkook hates me. I hurt him too much too many times. He's probably too tired to forgive me again…"
"He doesn't hate you, he just needs time. And it's not late. If it wasn't late for me, it can't be for you…" his faint smile trembles before the confusion sprinkling your face. "I followed your advice. I wrote to Minji, and she answered back. She's happy, and she misses me… and she wants to see me again." 
When Yoongi's confession scrapes the thin layer of air between you two, you suddenly forget about your problems and doubts, about the sadness that was sucking your heart in the pit of your stomach, about the sense of guilt that was trampling your conscience. 
You're just happy about Yoongi, right now. You don't care about anything or anyone else… 
"She asked me to meet her, and I'm thinking about it… but it'd be nice to see her again." His eyes are two shining gems that skyrocket you to outer space. "I'd like to try…" 
"I… I'm happy. I'm so happy for you, Yoongi-chi." Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as he flashes you his adorable gummy smile. In a burst of euphoria, you twirl your arms around his neck and he hugs you back thightly and, fuck , the last time he wrapped you so hard into a warm embrace has been after Namjoon's funeral. But there's no pain, this time. There's just relief. "This wasn't an excuse to be hugged, was it?" You tease him -he acts all tough, but he's such a softie under all those layers of I-don't-give-a-damn attitude. 
Yoongi snorts a chuckle, squeezing you tighter. "Go to Jungkook and talk to him. Be happy, mh?"
You chew on your bottom lip to keep tears at bay. You lean your forehead on his shoulder, letting out a stuttered breath. 
Being happy…
"Guys, just five minutes and dinner is ready. Why don't you—" Seokjin's words fade in a small " oh " brimmed with surprise, as he halts himself on the doorframe, catching the pair of you in each other's arms. "Hey, shouldn't you hug me instead? I remind you I'm the one who's leaving, uff…" He approaches you when you nod toward him, in a silent gesture to ask him to come closer. He hugs you from behind. "What's the problem? Is it because I'm leaving?" He jokes, but you catch a light wobble in his voice that creates a lump in your throat. 
Being happy without Seokjin…
"That. And because Yoongi-chi will meet Minji."
Being happy without Namjoon…
"And because (Y/N) is in love with the new boy." Yoongi gets quiet, then…
Being happy with Jungkook…
"And for Namjoon."
Your heart beats frantically into your chest, you melt into their arms. Seokjin hugs you tighter. And Yoongi, too.
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  You brush your palm upon the window, behind the thick veil of dust you can take a glimpse of the blossoming garden that made Joonie's head spin when you first came here to search for your new home in this quiet village. 
In the back of your mind, you can still see his mouth unfurl in a smile -two adorable dimples appearing on his cheeks; the visor of his baseball cap casting a shadow upon his glistening eyes; and the confident: " I like it here " tumbled off his tongue as he let your hand go to step inside the room, like a force was pulling him from the inside…
His footfall echoes back to you in a rhythmic melody that cocoons your heart in turmoil; his low, thoughtful voice is a soft whisper that makes you quiver from head to toes like a leaf, as you hear him describe out loud the position of each piece of furniture that would constitute his future studio -all the things he could do here, in such a lovely place. 
Basking in the nocturnal silence scraped by the chirp of cicadas, you've the sensation that Namjoon is still here: he's sprawled on his chair, eyes pinned to the last book he bought at the bookstore; he's hunched over the desk, a little frown slicing across his brows as he carefully studies the tests of his students; he's sitting on the edge of the desk, stare fixed on the plant life outside and a mug in his hands as he recounts his day -his sharp eyes morphed into two sweet half-moons…
"(Y/N)?"
You drift your stare to your right in a rush, feeling your heart thump in your throat for your name resounding throughout the room as it has just been pronounced by him. However, when you cast a glance upon his desk, reality hits you like a bucket of icy water, swiping away Namjoon's picture like curls of smoke: there's no one occupying his chair.
Namjoon isn't here, in flesh and bones. 
He's just a figment of your imagination that comes back to haunt you from time to time. 
You are alone…
Reluctantly pulling yourself out of your own dizziness, you clean your palm on your shorts before folding your arms around your waist, taking a look around: Namjoon's studio is how you left it half a year ago, when you've decided to lock it forever to spare yourself a deeper sorrow. Sure, it's definitely more dusty and dirtier, but unaltered throughout the years rolled by: the boxes containing his clothes and belongings are stored along the wall, creating a small fence of memories that would swallow you in one bite if you'd only take a quick peer inside of them; his messy notes are dispersed on the desk, in the same position he left them the day before the incident; one of his student's test is laying at the center, some red marks scattered through the paper (he didn't finish to correct it, he said he'd do it the morning after); his books disposed on the shelves curved for the weight…
You've put every bit of him inside his sanctuary on earth the moment his absence became too loud to bear it, naively thinking that this decision would help you to forget about him. 
But it didn't. 
Namjoon is indelibly carved into your heart and brain and the deepest part of you -his ghostly presence accompanies every step you take, every gesture you make, as if your life was still meant to intertwine with his own, someday. 
A sudden force coming from the inside gives a light push to your feet, now shuffling on their own accord toward the desk. In an instinctive gesture, you let your fingers crawl on the surface (just like you used to do before hugging him from behind, placing a kiss on the top of his head), the tips of your fingers leave a trail in their wake. You inhale sharply through your nose, the stuffy smell grown for all this time has you grimacing as you observe the various paintings he bought (but never hang on the walls, saying that he couldn't find their right position), until your eyes inevitably rest upon the few photographs you've hidden here. 
Despite the lump in your throat and the tears wetting your lashes, the corners of your mouth quirk up as soon as you take notice of your wedding picture; some random selfies of the pair of you taken during your small trips and messily pinned on a cork-board; a stolen shot of him, Yoongi and Seokjin with the Cheonjiyeon Waterfall in the background; a laughter captured by mistake while Hoseok is talking to him in the chaos of a pub…
Feeling weak in your knees, you plop down on the chair, breath settling heavily in your lungs. You curl into yourself, elbows resting on your thighs and hands gripping at your hair as tears dangerously threaten to roll down your cheeks. 
The heart-to-heart chat you had with Yoongi was a good, metaphorical kick in your ass to find some strength and finally open this door to confront yourself with a beautiful past that you can't seem to let go -as if embracing all the things you've lost would help you to move on with your life… but you're stuck.
You're stuck into his sharp eyes that gently etched into two sweet crescents when he trailed his attention to you; you're stuck in his laughter, in his voice telling you tales you used to drink to the very last ounce. You're stuck in the scorching love that didn't wither when he passed away. You're stuck in the abyssal emptiness he left behind. 
You're stuck in Namjoon, and the way life seemed funnier since he bumped into it…
The gentle but persistent tapping of Moonie's head against your legs snaps you back down to reality. You crack your eyes open, sinking in his round, glistening stare -like he couldn't fully grasp why his beloved owner isn't here. You put yourself into a stretched position as you slowly muster enough courage to not shatter into pieces. 
Moonie takes advantage of your movement to stretch himself and rest his muzzle on your lap, patiently waiting for some cuddles. You caress the top of his head in a soothing gesture to calm yourself down, observing the wedding ring wrapped around your finger.
"You miss him too, mh?" You mumble, exhaling a stuttered breath that flickers between your trembling lips. You lean forward to rest your cheek on the top of your dog head, eyes pinned to the desk at your side. 
It's useless. Staying here won't solve absolutely anything. Staying here reminds you of all the nice memories you crafted with your husband -it doesn't make you want to run to Jungkook and ask him if you're still on time to apologize…
Jungkook…
A pang in your chest makes you curl more into yourself, a little whining sound squelches into your mouth. It's ok like this. It's more than ok like this. The nice bond you and Jungkook developed throughout these months would never last when summer will be over -and the fact that he's about to go away tomorrow without even greeting you does nothing but intensify your certainty: it's late. 
It's too late…
You're about to stand up and dash out of this room, locking it once and forever. But just when you're about to move a finger, your attention is captured by the desk drawer -remembering that you've hidden something really precious into it. 
You carefully open it, taking notice of all the letters you wrote him during his military service and that he attentively secured together with an elastic; you look at the sticky notes full of smiles and 'good morning' you've written in a rush whenever you woke up earlier than him… and your notebook. The notebook that contains all the little poems he used to give you every single morning since your story began -his own, personal way to demonstrate how much he cared for you. 
You leaf through it, eyes shining wet at every inked character. Words are carved into your brain; and yet, your heart beats feverishly as if it was the first time reading them. Seconds elapse in a silence that cocoons you inside a bubble -the world is a distant place, noiseless almost. You drown in his love exuding from each piece:
"So I wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me. Till then, my windows ache"
You run your fingers on the characters above the paper, they're rough upon your tips. A small smile blooms upon your quivering lips, picturing him writing down this little poem in a rush before leaving. Absent-mindedly, you turn the page, and the liquid sparks  in your wide eyes dangerously tremble: white. Infinite white is all you can see, realizing that this is the last note he left you. The note he left before taking his bike and telling you that he loves you, that you'd see each other later… 
You can't help but wonder how many poems he'd have dedicated to you if only he hadn't gone so soon…
Yoongi's words and harsh comments suddenly slap you in your face: Namjoon is dead. Dead . And you can't do anything about it. You don't have control on what happened; but you have control over you and your future actions: you can only store inside of you all the beautiful memories he gave you and then move on, accepting all the good that life is going to place along your path -yes, even if this 'good' is a gentle boy with sweet doe eyes who displayed the depth of his heart with genuine sincerity. 
The problem is that it isn't so easy to keep going when you think that all the plans you projected seem worthy only alongside your husband.
The problem is that you aren't ready to let another human being take a seat in your heart when it fully shines bright for Namjoon.
And no matter how Jungkook has been able to take it into his hands and delicately cure every scar atop of it and help it to go back to beating again: it's an inarguable truth that if Namjoon were here, you would have never noticed Jeon Jungkook.
The love you felt (and still feel) for your husband isn't comparable to the feeble passion that drowned you toward the boy.
You don’t love Jungkook.
You love when he comes, when he makes you come. 
You're just this . You're barely whispered orgasms in the darkness of his bedroom; lazy kisses stolen in the backyard of his house; airy laughters over a glass of wine; tears hidden on a shoulder; little sips of breath in the crook of each other's neck when you hug tight, on your sofa; early morning strolls, your hands so close for your fingers to intertwine in the slightest; tales of a carefree childhood that taste of watermelon and beer; whispered words on a pillow -too much intimate for the pair of you to forget them when the night is over.
It's a palliative that makes you forget about the past you’ve lost.
Something that is bound to end when the warmth of summer will start to fade.
Something that… is close to happiness .
Something…
A soft thud against the entrance door sinks you back down to earth, making you lose the grip around your train of thoughts. Moonie stops using your lap as a perch and rests on the floor,  barking against nothing to the direction of the door, titillated by the rhythmic knocking sound that scratches the silence settled upon you. 
You snap your brows together, curious about who might be so late at night. You place the notebook on the desk and patiently wait for the noise to cease; but whoever came to visit you doesn't seem intent to go away. Huffing, you stand up, slowly proceeding toward the entrance. 
Who can't it be now? 
Maybe it's Yoongi, unable to sleep due to the messages he keeps exchanging with Minji; maybe it's Jin, who acts all tough when it comes to his imminent departure but you can tell by the sparks in his eyes that he's scared and sad to leave you all behind; maybe their mothers have come to spend some time with you, even if you highly doubt it… in all honesty, whoever it might be, you don't feel like talking with anyone. 
You just want for this night to pass in a heartbeat and stick your head out tomorrow morning and discover that the house across from yours is finally empty once again—!
"Yes?" Your eyes grow bigger when you open the door to reveal…
"Hi, Noona…"
… Jungkook. 
Jungkook and his big doe eyes brimmed with constellations and galaxies you still have to give a name to. Jungkook and his black, wavy hair gently falling along his temples in unruly locks. Jungkook and his lips stretched in a thin line that tastes of fondness and fear of rejection. Jungkook and his fingers curling around his Iron-Man t-shirt. Jungkook and his tattoos that tell you something about his own, little, personal world.
Jeon Jungkook, here, the night before his departure…
"Hey…" you manage to say, above a whisper, like a higher note in your voice might make him vanish into nothingness. He sucks on his bottom lip in a nervous gesture and you notice the tiny mole lying beneath it; your fingers immediately run to caress your wedding ring, in a desperate attempt to refrain yourself from grazing that area like you've done a billion times before. "Are you here for the last goodbye?" 
You don't tell it as a joke, or out of rage, or displaying sadness. 
You're genuinely conscious over the fact that Jungkook is here for a farewell between two mature grown-ups -despite all the shit you put him through in the end. It must be his last act of kindness, since you had your good dose of mind-blowing sex and you both have delved into each other's intimacy…
Jungkook isn't affected by your question in the slightest. He merely ruffles his hair, giving you a sheepish smile that reaches his eyes. "That was the plan, until this morning at least…" he catches a small breath, a ruby hue tinges his cheekbones. "I can’t leave - leave like this -you…” he moistens his lips, fixing his eyes to his sandals -his toes curl in and out for anxiety. “I want to apologize, (Y/N). I disappeared—”
“It’s ok. I disappeared many times, too." You flap a hand, trying to minimize the crux of his speech. 
“It’s not the same - same." He shakes his head vigorously, knuckles turning white for the grip around the shirt. "I've never - never understood why you kept pushing me away. I thought you didn't like me much, that we were just, you know… fuck-buddies, mh." He sets his eyes on the ground, voice dropping two notches deeper. "I - I was just… I was so damn mad at you for not telling me the truth earlier. I mean, since we started to hang out, you always treated me like an adult, but that day… I felt like I was a stupid child to you. You made me so angry I wanted to cut ties once and for all." He lets out a small chuckle, camouflaging the small wobble in his recount. "Then, everything got all so clear to me and I wanted to run to you but I - I panicked ." His confession is firm, uttered while sinking in your wide eyes. "When I told you that I'm used to dating older women, it's true. I've never cared about their age or mine, I just wanted to have fun without problems, having an expiration date. It's easier to be a lover or, you know, to deal with women who just divorced. But you… I don’t know if I can do it, with you." 
You swallow thickly, disoriented by his flood of words mumbled all in a rush and with that adorable stuttering mannerism that makes Jungkook the special being he is. You part your lips, but close it immediately when you realize that you lack words: what should you tell him? That a part of you is relieved to know that he prefers leaving? That a part of you is dying little by little knowing that he prefers leaving?
What can you tell a boy who wants to sacrifice his life for you when you aren't capable of understanding yourself and giving him all the love he deserves? 
You let out a sigh, giving in to the easy choice. 
You decide to let (him) go…
“I'm pretty sure things wouldn't work, either. You know, summer is ending, life will become harder again… it'll be different." You avert his big stare, unable to hold the expectation crumbling in his shaky eyes. "And no need to apologize. I should've told you everything from the beginning… you had all the rights to be mad at me." You catch a breath, willing to cut this conversation and his visit short. “Enjoy your holiday, Jeju is wonderful in this period—"
“I’m not going anywhere," Jungkook interrupts, softly. He takes a tiny step forward and you should back off but you can't. Your legs are paralyzed, your whole body craves for his proximity. "(Y/N), I don't know if I can do it… but I want to try.” 
Panic cripples you from head to toes. 
This week of absence convinced you that Jungkook wanted to put as much distance as possible between you two; you slowly accepted the reality of things and prepared yourself to live with the emptiness he'll leave behind. But if he stays, you—
“Jungkook… no, we already talked about it." You fold your arms around your waist in a sort of protection. "You can't sacrifice your life and stay here—" your words fade in the soft sound of his chuckle.
His lips open in a smile that shows his front bunny-like teeth. "Sacrifice? I'm doing it because I want to do it." Sweetness tugs at his features. "I'm not sacrificing anything if it comes from here…" he pats his hand on his chest, where the heart lays.
You shake your head. "You don't know what you're doing, you—"
"Don't treat me - me like a child." Jungkook pouts, offended. "I'm an adult, I know what I'm doing." 
“No, you're not." You try to keep firmness in your voice, but the light tremble in your shoulders betrays your anxiety. "You - you are twenty three. You’ve to see the world, and enjoy life with someone your age, stay with your friends and - and you’ve to live in the way you want, Jungkook." You move backward when you take notice of his hand raising up to reach you. "If you stay here, with me, you - you’ll waste your time. You're going to regret it—”
“I can see the world another time. We can do it together, if you want.” He takes a step forward, but still he doesn't walk in. “I can go to Jeju next week, or next month… but if I go away from here now, I know that all the good we've built will be over and I - I don’t want to.” He waits for a follow-up that doesn't come, you can see his patience hanging into his eyes still brimmed with fondness. “(Y/N)... I’m younger than you, but I’m not stupid. I can listen to myself, and I want to stay here, with you. My heart says so. My mind, too.” He catches a breath, a muscle twitches in his jaw. “I like you, (Y/N). Thought it was clear that I do , a lot .” His hand runs to the opposite bicep. "I like you so much that I don't think I'll be able to fall for someone else."
Oh…
You feel the words climbing up your throat. The part of you that longs for indulging in the affection Jungkook is ready to give you pumps up the truth that you've difficulty tried to bury in the abyss of your chest -that you like him, too . A lot. You like him so much that you want him to stay and see how far you two can go. You like him so much that you sometimes forget about Namjoon…
And that's why you can't keep him here, with you.
You've to tell him the whole truth. A truth that he deserves to know, and that goes beyond Namjoon's death…
Jungkook swallows thickly. "(Y/N)..."
"There's something you must know…" you say, vaguely, sparing him one last glance before turning your back to him. 
Jungkook walks in after a brief moment of hesitation, murmuring a 'thank you' that settles in your chest and doesn't go away. He takes off his sandals and puts them next to your shoes, gawking at that simple view a little longer. You can hear his footsteps resound behind you, only to come to a halt when you disappear inside Namjoon's studio. Realizing that this is the room you've kept locked until today, he stays still on the doorframe as if he was waiting for your green light to proceed -in a sort of gesture to not disrespect your husband.
"It's messy, and dirty. This is the first time I've been here since he's been g—since he's dead ." That word leaves a bitter taste on your tongue, you probably will never get used to saying it out loud. "You can come in…" you open the windows, waiting for his steps to eacho in the room. When all that you receive back is silence, though, you gaze at him over your shoulder, confused.
There's an hesitant set in his tensed figure, eyes open wide. He looks so small and fragile he has your heart being squeezed in a tight grip. “Can - can I? Really ?”
You nod, standing on your spot to study his movements. Moonie moves beside you, nudging your leg before resting at your feet. 
Jungkook takes a few seconds before stepping in, and you find adorable the way he nods a little and clenches his hands into fists as if he had to give himself a bit of courage. He moves around cautiously, scrutinizing every inch of a place that screams 'Namjoon' in every corner. His eyes are round and big when they trail to the various paintings, his mouth shaped in a little 'O' of surprise. Then, he takes notice of the photographs, nears them like a force was dragging him from the collar of his shirt. He leans forward to take a closer look, lingers on your wedding dress as if you were the only remarkable work of art.
You'd expect him to make some nice comment about you, how beautiful you were with that type of dress on, with that hairstyle or make-up -all smiley and wrapped in that particular beauty that's typical of a brand-new wife. 
Instead, he says, "Your husband seems… gentle ."
You're surprised. And happy. The fact that his first impression of Namjoon revolves around kindness makes you all giddy inside.
"He was… " it's the first time you talk about him in the past. It makes your heart bleed and ache -but not as much you thought it would do. "He would have liked you a lot. I'm sure of it…" you deliver him a small smile, contemplating the rosy shade coloring his cheeks. "I kept his studio locked because I thought this would help me to forget about him… but I can't." You caress your wedding ring, feeling your lips trembling for what you're about to spill. "There were times I had only him in my mind, while being with you…"
Jungkook immediately straightens himself and drifts his broken stare to you, as if your confession just punched him in the stomach. The sparks floating in his eyes are trembling, shining wet -it's a gut-wrenching sight that makes you want to crawl out of your own skin and run away from here. 
You rack your brain frantically to search for a proper way to vocalize the turmoil whirling inside of you, but before you could exhale a small breath, Jungkook's voice scrapes the thin layer of air between you two. 
"(Y/N)... I—" his fingers grip at his eyebrow piercing. "I just wanted to fuck you, at first…" he admits, lowering his stare. “I thought… I thought you were pretty. I thought it’d be nice to, you know, have some casual sex? Like, nothing serious. Meeting up when we want, no strings attached… just a meaningless summer fling." He swallows thickly, shame breaks through the embarrassment dancing across his features. "I… I was attracted to you, that’s why I started talking to you… I'm an asshole. Not very mature of me…"
You caress your elbow, shaking your head. "You aren't… and it's not a matter of maturity." Your mind runs back to Seokjin, to all the bodies he wrapped around the sheets of his bed without the slightest intention to keep them close enough to get to know them better. It's normal… not all people search for love. Not all people want or need sentimental stability. "It might happen, being attracted to someone and not wanting anything more." You give him a reassuring smile but Jungkook casts a glance upon his feet anyway, as if he felt too guilty to be in your presence. 
In all honesty… it's heart wrenching to know that Jungkook approached you only to follow his sex drive toward you -which is something you've always sensed, deep down into you. But still, a thin voice inside of you tells you that this is probably a good way for you to stop caring so much about him. 
"But things changed…" he adds, caressing his tattooed arm. "I… when I told you that I was thinking about my life in two, lately, you were always on my mind. You're still on my mind, (Y/N)." He lets out a breath and it feels like his whole figure is getting lighter and lighter, as if he was finally getting rid of a huge weight. 
You scrutinize his face, searching for a trace of mockery. Genuine affection is all you find, though, it makes the ground beneath your feet crumble. "When did you—"
“When you went to Seoul to meet up with your friend…" he giggles. "I remember I felt sad the whole day because you weren't here. And - and I thought it wasn't about sex anymore. You… I feel so good when I'm with you. I can be myself and you'd never - never judge me." He takes a step closer to you. "And the next day we walked our dogs out and you laughed and you were happy. You were so happy. And I thought… it'd be nice to make you happy. I really want you to be happy, (Y/N).”He chews on his bottom lip, where the piercing runs around the flesh. "I know that ten years aren't few… but you were around my age when you met your husband. Why can't you give me a chance?"
Because it's different. Because Namjoon was around your age. Because Namjoon was your friend before being your lover. Because you'll arrive at a point where you'll want things that Jungkook won't be able to give you -and vice versa. 
These ten years that now seem so feeble in the summer that cocoons you in its warmth, soon will notch your story, making you understand how incompatible you are…
"It's different. Things started slowly between us, Namjoon knew me like the back of his hand. He knew all the embarrassing things about me, and he accepted them. You don't know anything about me. And when you'll find all my flaws, you'll leave ."
He scrunches his nose, amused. "Don't think I will." He takes another step closer. "I already discovered some of your flaws, but I want to stay anyway."
His brutal honesty frightens you. He's so ready to accept all of you that you don't even care about what these imperfections might be…
You only think that you must be brutally honest, too…
"Staying with you these months made me understand how much I still love Namjoon," you start, cautious, paying attention to not break him. "I… I still think he's here, with me. Every time I was having fun with you, I thought: Joonie would love this … and it made me so sad, because I know he won't be back. But, other times… you made me forget about him. And I hated you so much, those times…" you set your eyes on Jungkook, wide-eyed and parted lips. "That's why we can't stay together. I'm awful. And it's not fair to you. You deserve someone who stays with you and thinks only of you and—"
"It's ok, I don't care. We don't have to rush things—"
"Jungkook…" you call him, softly. "If Namjoon were here… I would have never noticed you ."
You said it.
You finally said it, the truth you were hiding from him. The fact that Namjoon's memory still lives inside of you, making it hard to focus on someone else's love… the fact that you can't hurt Jungkook's feelings. 
Jungkook stays still, silently metabolizing your admission. He swallows thickly, the corners of his mouth quirk up a little in a comprehensive smile. Without saying a word he walks out the room, sparing only one last glance at your wedding photograph. 
It tears you apart, the idea of breaking his heart in pieces; at the same time, you feel lighter now that you've told him everything. You can't lie anymore… you can't stay with Jungkook in this way. It wouldn't be fair to him…
You caress Moonie and gently guide him outside the room, ready to fully embrace the solitude. You close the windows and give one long look around, imprinting in your mind all that comes to sight -aware that you'll close the studio door forever. However, when you walk outside, your heart drops into your stomach and lands on a flock of butterflies when you notice that Jungkook is still here, standing still in your living room.
He chews on his bottom lip, lets out a breath. Then, he smiles. "I'm staying anyway…" 
Your eyes grow so wide they hurt. You squeeze them shut and the first hint of tears lays upon your lashes. You hear his soft footsteps come closer, your heart flickers at every inch that breaks under his feet. Your eyelids flutter up slowly when silence wraps you, taking notice of Jungkook's toes grazing your own. You lift your head up to stare at him, unable to express your thoughts. 
"I don't want to replace Namjoon's memory…" Jungkook's words are soft -they are a gentle caress on your face, now reduced to a tensed mask of panic. "I just - just want to build something new with you." He grabs your hand, he stares at your wedding ring with delicacy. "I want to stay. I'm not going to leave, (Y/N)." 
You gasp once… twice… thrice… 
You cover your face with your free hand, tears stream down your face. You sob heavily, your body quivers and Jungkook is ready to cage you in a warm embrace.
"I miss him so much. It's not fair. We had to do many things together, we—" you cling at his shoulders, your fingers curl tight around the cotton fabric of his shirt. "I miss him so much…"
"Shh… it's all ok," Jungkook mumbles, running a hand into your hair, "Everything's gonna be ok, (Y/N)."
Oh… they told it so many times you stopped believing in it.
Bur for a very brief instant… you want to believe him. 
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  "When you leave, weary of me, without a word I shall gently let you go"
  There's a Hibiscus at the center of your table, resting on top of a piece of paper folded in two. 
It's pink with some red spots in the inner part, endowed with a simple beauty that makes your heart throb frantically inside your chest -especially if you think of the reason behind its presence here: Jungkook said that he isn't good with poems, so he's going to give you a flower every morning from now on (because they're pretty and you're pretty). 
(Namjoon told you that Hibiscus is a symbol of integrity and indomitable spirit, because every time a flower falls, a new one will bloom again. You don't know if Jungkook is aware of this small anecdote, but you find it funny that he specifically picked this flower among many others -because it seems to perfectly describe your current situation). 
Jungkook also said that such a trivial present won't probably be as stunning as receiving a poem that could help him to put down in words the importance of your presence in his existence, but the first Golden bell stem he handed to you the morning after the "studio accident" had you thinking about destiny, the magnificence of it, and how you feel lucky that he happened to be a part of your little microcosmo.  
Your fingers gently caress the smooth petals, graze the zig-zagged borders -in the same way they sketched Jungkook's abdominals last night, while you two were basking in your post-orgasm dizziness. Your pointer glides down the green stem, the corners of your mouth feebly pull up as you imagine him fucking you slowly (slower than usual) -stare engulfed into your own the whole time, fingers intertwined till the end. 
Caught up in your reverie, you grab the paper Jungkook probably left before leaving, and the crescent adorning your mouth gets even brighter when you notice the various little drawings scattered throughout the page (a tiny smiley sun; an adorable bunny; a flower) before focusing on the brief message he wrote in a rush:
Tae arrived, gotta prepare the last things You were sleeping so well See you later
… And the smile on your lips slowly flips off your face, as you finally sink once again back down into reality. 
Today, Jungkook is leaving.
After postponing his trip to Jeju only to spend some more time with you, he's finally packing his belongings to go away with his friends. The past seven days rolled by whisper-quick, to the point that you often wished for time to be something concrete that you could control to your liking only to stop it and indulge in his presence a little longer. 
Jungkook has been… delicate. And caring. 
He hasn't been invasive, he's been respectful about your need of time and space in order to fully accept him in your daily routine. His kisses have been soft goodnights brushed against your lips while standing on the doorframe; his pecks have been drowsy good mornings tasting of milk and biscuits. His strokes have been gentle touches skimming over your skin as if it was your first time together. His shoulders have been a good sustain when you felt the urge to talk about Namjoon, trying to let go of the scorching feelings you feel for him. He perfectly blended with your day-by-day life without overdoing or forcing himself -like he was meant to sit between Yoongi and Seokjin while you were taking a drink at the local pub (his soft giggle reverberating through the chaotic room and seeping through your chest for your friends little quarrells). Like he was meant to hold your hand tight when you wished Seokjin good luck for his new journey in Incheon, between hugs and sobs and laughter. 
It's been like starting a new page of your life, having Jungkook here with you, tenderly—!
Moonie's sudden yelp breaks through your consciousness, distracting you from your whirling thoughts. You gaze over your shoulder, catching him scratching his paws against the door,  begging you to take him out.
You turn, putting the paper beside the flower. You grab the bag you prepared after breakfast and tighten it against your chest, mustering all the courage you need to face this moment. 
The time to let Jungkook go has finally come, and you can't do anything to avoid it…
In all honesty, you don't feel like meeting him while he's taking care of the last things for the trip. It would be definitively better for your heart if he'd show up here at the very last minute, telling you that he's ready to leave, that he can't stay here any longer because he's already late -in this way, there won't be any second left for the pair of you to share anything important, or to make any promise regarding your mutual future. 
He'd just give you a quick kiss before jumping on his friend's van, forgetting about you as soon as the door car would slam. It would be easier, like this, to deal with the sorrow…
However, a part of you wants to see him one last time and wish him goodbye properly -even if this means to spend the rest of your days suspended in a limbo, replaying in your head the last moment you shared over and over, waiting, wondering if he'll ever be back. 
You caress the top of Moonie's head, smiling. "C'mon, Moonie. Let's get out for a bit…" 
Your dog sneaks into the breach as soon as you open the door, running toward the street without waiting for you. He diligently halts his own run before crossing it, staring at you with his big eyes and tongue dangling. 
You stroke his muzzle before proceeding toward Jungkook's house, feeling your heart dropping in your stomach as soon as you take notice of his friend's van -already loaded with some boxes and luggages. There's a force that impedes you to come closer when you see Bam scamper outside the entrance, barking in your direction to catch Moonie's attention. Forgetful of you, your dog dashes toward the other puppy, and you find yourself standing still, as if you were waiting for the right time to dash back home, unnoticed. 
A few seconds later, a guy with brownish hair a bit longer on the sides walks out the house with hands jammed inside his trousers, sparing a glance behind his back to talk with… Jungkook. 
Jungkook with his usual baggy clothes. Jungkook with a little pout hanging on his bottom lip. Jungkook with his gaze fixed to the ground, unbothered about the surrounding world…
Jungkook…
You fold your arms around your waist, unable to move a finger to reveal your presence. Watching them together makes you suddenly feel out of place -wrapped in your thirty three years. With a wedding ring wrapped around your finger that weighs a lot. 
"Oh… Bam, did you find a new friend?" The tall guy comments, casting his glistening eyes upon Moonie. He crouches down on his calves to observe your dog, flashing him a beaming smile when he doesn't wriggle away from his strokes. "Jungkookie, look who we have here!" 
Jungkook lifts his stare up in his friend's direction, and his whole expression brightens up when he takes in the sight of Moonie. His lips unfurl into an excited crescent, gaze flickering all around to search for you; and when he finally spots you, still at a distance, he becomes… luminescent . As if happiness just washed him from head to toes. 
And you suddenly don't feel out of place anymore…
"Aw, you're so nice… do you think—Jungkookie!" The boy flinches for a sudden thud noise coming from behind his back  Goggle-eyed, he turns toward Jungkook, only to find the box tossed on the ground. 
"(Y/N)!" Jungkook greets you brightly while running toward you.
"Hey, good morning—oh!" Your quivering words fade into Jungkook's arms, now twirled around you in a tight grip. Your muscles tense all at once for his unexpected gesture, but you relax in his embrace when he exhales on of his usual mouth-sounds (one of those he lets out when he's particularly euphoric). "Hi to you too…" you say, playfully. 
Jungkook lets out a giggle. "Hi…" his tattooed hand glides up along your nape, meanders through your hair and rests on the back of your head, pulling you closer for your cheek to adhere more against him. "Sorry for not waking you up. You were sleeping so well - well," he mumbles, inching away as if you were going on fire. "I wasn't leavening - leaving without greeting you! I'd never do it, mh." Guilt drools from his words, tumbling off his mouth in a rush. A bit stuttering. In a way that makes it harder to let him go. 
"I know…" you reassure him, caressing his tattooed arm. You take in the sight of the inked drawings, becoming hyperaware of the fact that you can exactly put them into their right place by heart. "Thanks for the flower. It's beautiful." You go back to staring back at him, sinking in his big doe eyes that exude joy. 
"I'll give you many more when I'll be back. You know, to make up for these two weeks," he comments, seriously, like he meant every single word.
Like he really means to come back…
You swallow thickly, unable to recover from the importance of his statement -because deep inside of you, you can't believe that Jungkook will indeed choose you when his trip will be over. I mean… a part of you knows that he'll meet someone who'll make him go crazy and will make him forget that once he wanted to spend his days with an older woman in a village nestled between mountains…
You shake your head a little, swiping away your doubts. You can't let your fears ruin this (last) moment. 
“I brought you some snacks for the trip. Actually, Yoongi contributed too…" you lift the bag up, admiring the sweet curve of his smile. You catch a small breath, paying attention to swallow back the wobble in your voice. “Did you bring everything?”
He nods, reluctantly pulling you out of his hug. He grabs the bag, studying the various rice cakes, snacks, and packages of banana milk contained inside. "Thanks…" the euphoria that was dancing along his features a few seconds ago is replaced by a sad expression that has your guts twisting. "You're still on time to come with us…" he starts, gazing at your dogs. "My friends say that it's ok if you join us. It'd be nice - nice…"
His request is a barely whispered hush that hits your face, in the same powerful way it punched you the first time he made you this suggestion a few nights ago, while you were taking a stroll around the village (hand in hand. Unbothered about the curious glances of the people who live here and will for sure spread random rumors about you and the-new-boy). And, just like that time, the frantic beating of your heart spreads throughout every inch of you -a nice sensation that you weren't feeling for a year and a half now. 
But, despite the excitement, you can't accept it. Jungkook needs to have his own time and space -you can't be a constant in his plans…
You shake your head, scrutinizing the small pout on his lips. “It’s something yours, enjoy your time with your friends." You chuckle, brushing your thumb over your wedding ring. "It’s not like I’m going anywhere, anyway.” 
It's not like you're going to forget him… 
Jungkook exhales some air through his nose. "Two weeks aren't few…" he casts a glance upon you, resolute. "I'm going to take you somewhere nice - nice when I come back."
“ If you want to come back.”
“I will.” He gazes up at the sky, thoughtful. "I think I’ll accidentally forget some things at home, which means that I'll have to come back here to bring them. And, ops , I bet I also forgot something at your place. By mistake, of course.” He leans forward, looking at you through his lashes. “I told you I’m going to try my best…" 
This is all you need to let yourself go for a moment that lasts a heartbeat. 
You gasp once, breathing in his good scent of shampoo and softener, feeling his lips pressing against your own in an urgent touch. Your stomach twists when Jungkook rests his hands on your hips, pulling you closer. You're on the cusp of tilting your head to the side to indulge more into this sweet bracket when a sudden bark makes you pull away. 
"Bam, hi…" you mumble, noticing the dog now scampering beside you. You let out a chuckle when he straightens himself to rest his paws on your thigh, in desperate need of cuddles, and your heart melts when Jungkook takes advantage of your distraction to place a long kiss on your cheekbone. "Well, I think it's time…" you brush your thumb on the soft area under his eye, studying his downcast expression. "Have fun, mh?" 
His hand runs to grip at your wrist. He presses the thumb on the area full of veins -you're pretty sure he can feel the thumping sound of your beat. "(Y/N), ahm… there's something I want to tell you before going." A ruby hue tinges the tip of his ears. "I - I think that I, for you, I—"
"Jungkookie in love… " a low voice coming from behind him interrupts whatever he was about to tell you, leaving you hanging with curiosity. His friend rests against the van, smirking. 
"Tae…" Jungkook mutters, darting him an annoyed glance. 
"I knew this little holiday would do you good." His long eyes grow wider when he spots you, looking at him in confusion. "Ah, sorry, didn't want to interrupt you! I'm Taehyung, by the way." He bows a little, raising a hand to greet you. "You must be (Y/N) Noona. It's so nice to meet you, Jungkookie never stopped talking about you."
"Oh!"
"He also said something about you and a terrible wallpaper ." 
"Ah…" Shame colors your cheekbones in a warm shade. "I thought this had to be our little secret, " you say, amused. 
"I probably said it by - by mistake." Jungkook scrapes his nape, giggling. "It was really awful, though. You were right." 
"You were, don't worry. Our Jungkookie did an incredible job with this house. It's… something else entirely." Taehyung casts a long glance upon you before catching a breath, giving you a smile. "Well, I'm taking care of the last things. Just, don't take too long, Jungkookie. Jimin is waiting for us." He comes closer to grab the paper bag in Jungkook's hands and put it inside the van before heading toward the house. "It's been a pleasure to meet you, noona . Hope to see you again."
"Yeah, me too…" you look at his retracting figure, going back to focusing on Jungkook when his friend disappears inside the house. You give one last stroke to Bam before letting him run toward Moonie, who sits beside the van. "So… what did you want to tell me earlier?"
Jungkook stares at you wide-eyed, as if you'd just snapped him back down to earth. He shakes his head vigorously, his hair flutters over his forehead. "I'll tell you when I'll be back…" he smiles a little. "It seems I have another good reason to come back here…"
You rest your hands on his chest, scrutinizing the tiny mole on his neck. You run your pointer over it, Jungkook places a long kiss on your forehead. 
"Listen, remember what I told you?" The liquid sparks in your eyes shake when you trail your stare back to his face, which is a mask of gloom that squeezes your heart in a tight, painful grip. "If you meet a nice girl—”
“I can do whatever I want, I know. But I won’t. I won't…" he rests his hands on top of your own, presses the one of the left portion of his chest to make you feel the frantic beat of his heart. "The woman I like is here… she's a good reason to come back and stay .”
  You don’t know if Jungkook will keep his promise. 
In the abyss of your chest, a thin malicious voice tells you that he won't. His words are just a way to close on a sweet note the summer bracket you shared. Breathing in a bit of him as he slowly kisses you (his hands cupping your face, your hands on top of his own), you know how things will go in the upcoming two weeks: he'll meet a nice girl, someone around his age; they’ll have fun, she'll make him open his eyes about all the possibilities he's going to throw away if he decides to waste his life on a remote town that can't offer him anything… and he’ll forget that he had sex for almost two months with a woman ten years older than him who once loved a man with every fiber of her being and broke his heart too many times.  
But Jungkook sits on the backseat of the van, stroking Bam's head. Then, all of a sudden -just when you thought that he's ready to let you go, he turns, crossing his arms on the backrest. He pins his eyes on your figure, standing still on the spot where he left you, beside Moonie. He waves his hand in your direction, and smiles. Brightly. And mouths something that you can't catch -but it reaches his eyes and it cuddles your heart. He stays in this exact position until you become a distant dot with mountains rising high up above in the horizon, cloacked in a summer that's drawing to a close. 
And something (something akin to the affection that has Namjoon's name) tells you that there's still hope…
You take a long, deep breath, fingers dashing to caress your wedding ring. And you smile. 
After four months…
After a year and a half… 
The motionless quietness of the village shattered on a chill morning of April (on a warm morning of June) finally comes back to normal.
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erinptah · 4 months
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Annotated Interlude 4 Cover - Visions of Sugarplums
The title is the classic description of Christmas-Eve dreams in the poem A Visit From St. Nicholas.
I have never in my life had an actual sugarplum. Never seen them for sale anywhere. Couldn’t have told you what they looked like, until I did an image search for this post. Is it a regional thing? (I’m from the East Coast US.) Christmas-observing readers from other parts of the world, what say you?
Programming note: This isn’t the original archive order of Interlude 4 (it was posted after chapter 22), or the chronological order (it’s a slight flashback, falling between chapter 17 in November 2010, and chapter 18 in January 2011).
The trade paperbacks use chronological order. The Master’s Edition omnibus uses online archive order. Both those decisions were made 100% for purposes of Page Count Convenience, not because one of them is the purer and more true place to set it.
So why did I re-shuffle it around to here in the Annotated Online Repost? Because it’s December.
Apologies to future archive-bingers, this won’t mean anything to you. But to the people currently reading along in realtime: enjoy.
(Originally posted here on But I'm A Cat Person.)
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alexenglish · 1 year
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ao3 wrapped (alexenglish edition)
stole this ask meme with the intent of using it as a writing retrospect! please enjoy if you enjoy.
fic round-up ♡ AO3 ♡ writing tag
How many words have you written this year? give or take 60-75k, i'm honestly not sure how many words i have between all my wip docs... my wip folder for my one published wip has three or so docs dedicated to graveyard and rewritten work. i'm suffering profoundly, but i am persevering - i think.
How many works did you publish this year? 5 individual ao3 works, and a short prompt collection with prompt ficlets from twitter.
did notice i feel limited while filling twitter prompts (character restriction, screenshotting, additional character restriction for alt text after screen shots bleh) - my fills are about half the word count of what i would usually do if i was on tumblr, so i think i will be bringing writing short prompts back to the good ol' askbox here.
What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)? without question, my favorite fic from this year is if you let me i might say too much (2min, t, 8.5k). i accidentally wrote a fic with such a lovely, strong sense of identity. some of my best setting and backgrounding work. just a tight little short story that i adore. i'm beyond happy with it and love the way readers love her as well!
What work of yours has the most hits? & let me kiss you (binsung, t, ch1/2 14.7k) ✊😔
What work of yours got more feedback than you expected? probably & let me kiss you! really delighted that people are still leaving comments on it and hoping it'll continue (me too!) haven't gotten any demanding or pushy comments to continue it, just a lot of gentle appreciation, which i'm grateful for hehe
Favorite title you used the mouth of the sun (chanlix, e, 10.7k). i found this phrasing in my poetry tag (where i go when i don't have a song lyric to use). when i looked it up, the real poem might be 'the mountain of the sun' - though i didn't investigate very far past the first few search results. i shrugged my shoulders and thought: 'mouth' is better.
i love 'mouth of the sun' as a combination of a lot of things: felix as skz's sunshine, felix as chan's sun - sunshine, happiness, the dizzying center of his own universe & the toxic ways that manifests for them in the fic - the icarus metaphor i used in fic, this idea of flying too close to the sun & how chan uses it to illustrate how his desire is obvious to those around them and it burns him with how he willingly gets close to felix; the way he flew too close to the sun when he propositioned felix before the events of the fic and got rejected. then the icarus metaphor more largely in the truth and in vinos veritas themes of the fic: the mouth of the sun, literally felix's mouth, that can't stop speaking and chan flying too closely by asking felix to elaborate on his awful truths, burning himself over and over again because he's desperate to know more in the moment and after, during the scene where felix is sober.
If you use song lyrics, which artist's songs did you pull from the most? used lyrics from all different artists, but excited to announce the planned sequel to & let me kiss you also is a 1d lyric title, and the decided series name is, you guessed it, also a 1d lyric <3
Pairing you wrote the most for this year? binsung! my binsung! my best and favorite boys~
Favorite pairing you wrote for this year? again, binsung
What work was the quickest to write? one plus one equals one (jilix, t, 2.1k) - this actually started as a twitter fic thread for their bdays, but i'm nothing if not a wordy bitch, but i knocked it out in like 4 hours which was great!
What work took you the longest to write? i started &lmky in... february 2022... maybe... and published chapter one in may, because i am a fool, and it's still not done so! excited to see if i can complete it before it turns a year old (may, NOT feb)
How many WIP's do you have in your docs for next year? technically only two - &lmky and the sequel! my teeth and ambitions are not bared. keep expectations low and everything else is a nice surprise.
What's your longest work of the year? & let me kiss you, queen
What's your shortest work of the year? one plus one equals one
What's your most common "Additional Tags" tag? "canon compliant" (in the way that 'canon' is working knowledge of idol life and not in the 'this is definitely real' way, thanks)
Your favorite character to write this year? jisung is super fun and easy for me in a lot of ways and his ships are my faves, but i really loved writing chan for the mouth of the sun, there's something so diabolical about getting to write an overly sympathetic unreliable narrator who is actually the cause of Problems. most readers will not see that at all (and they did not), but writing him was [chef's kiss]
The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year? my povs were very easy, but minho in &lmky is the most unwieldy motherfucker. he's not in chapter 1, but all my chapter 2 angst stems directly from the fact that he and jisung have the most whack conversations that i have to redact and rewrite because they're serving NO purpose. can't wait to get him laid in the sequel, maybe he'll calm down.
What's one pairing you want to explore next year? hyunho is the ship for the famed &lmky sequel, and it's gunna be so fucking glorious. i might be looking forward to it more than i am looking forward to finishing &lmky (mostly because i'm at the point with &lmky that's like DEAR GOD WHEN WILL I BE INSPIRED versus the hyunho barely exists so i'm floating on my back in the glittering pool of imagination about it)
Which work of yours have you reread the most? if you let me i might say too much, she really is my beloved!
How many kudos in total did you get this year? 961, and i'm eating them ALL. i am warm and well fed! 🥰🥰🥰
Which work has the most comments? proud of myself for remembering to check the comment thread stat and not just look at the total number and divide by two: & let me kiss you
Did you do any collaborative works this year? @clarz and I co-wrote a beautiful and wonderful secret gift for @sodapopblues and it was easily the most fun i had writing all year!
Did you write any gifts this year? this is probably the first year i didn't gift a fic to someone on ao3 wow! did previously mentioned collab with clara for erin, and did record my very first podfic for clara for her birthday, i love u clara mwah
Did you receive any gifts this year? my lovely excellent and highly talented friend @unseelie-siren/ @pxssnelke was SICK and did a pod of & let me kiss you and completely surprised me, AND wrote two banger fics for me: i just make it easy (minbin, e, 3k) and big things come in small packages (changjun, t, 2.6k). i hope my muse is up to task this year so i can give a little back to fae for faer's kindness 😘
What's your most common category? M/M
What do you listen to while writing? Study Music Alpha Waves: Relaxing Studying Music, Brain Power, Focus Concentration Music, ☯161
Favorite line/passage you wrote this year? hands down, the studio kiss scene at the end of the first chapter of & let me kiss you. the tension. that changbin. it's crazymaking. i'm obsessed with that changbin above all else.
Biggest surprise while writing this year? writing chanlix! despite being my first skz ship, i'm largely neutral on their dynamic - and then disparaging of the way it tends to manifest in fic - so it's moved out of even my top 10 skz ships. my personal meta about them has always been trying to dig into the stuff i feel is deeply out of sync in their dynamic, which is what compels me but never really enough, until felix basically tackled chan and gave him a footrub and then immediately abandoned him when changbin interrupted, and THEN i saw a bunch of weird and whack discourse about how felix doesn't top chan (HA! HA!), that i was like ah i simply must write a subversive fic within a trope i've been eager to write for awhile (sex pollen is among my good friend quinn @fleetwooded's favorite tropes! i wanted to take a swing at it). at first it was only going to be a love triangle, maybe with a hopeful ending, but as soon as it started i realized there was a thread of bad feelings i had to follow through to the end and i'm very happy i did.
THE END! feel free to steal this idea, since i stole it, and if you steal it and do a little retrospect yourself, feel free to send it to me/ tag me! love everyone's writing thoughts mwah!
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accio-victuuri · 2 years
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Happy Mid-Autumn Festival Everyone!!! 🥮🌙
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I don’t really have an edit or anything special so I thought i’d just share a book rec that has a common symbol with this festival — which is the moon. If you’re new here, yes, i periodically rec chinese online novels (danmei only) . It’s one that I recently finished and loved so maybe someone who reads this may enjoy it too. 🤍
Title: The Moon is Coming to Me 🌕
Synopsis : Tao Xi knew the fate of being deliberately exchanged at birth by his “mother” in the third year of middle school. He lived in daze, until he saw Lin Qinhe of Wenhua No.1 High School, a prestigious school thousands of kilometers away, on the remote live broadcast screen of a high school in a poverty-stricken county. It was him who lived in the bottom of the well, and for the first time, he caught a glimpse of the moon in the sky.
English translation : LINK
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I won’t try to pick the moon, I want the moon to come to me.
There is something about a story between two lonely people ( with shitty family ) who find each other — and it completely changes the trajectory of their lives. I guess I’m a sucker for hope like the two main leads in this story. Tao Xi who is stuck in a rural village who sees the city as something so far like he’s shooting for the Moon. Lin Qinhe who seems perfect but is waiting for someone to love him the most. They shouldn’t even meet. They live two separate lives but the educational live broadcast by LQH’s school allowed TX to see him. LQH will always be late in his english class and his punishment was to read a poem/passage or give a speech in english. TX is captivated by this person and he is fueled to work harder so he can win the scholarship to study in Wenhua’s no. 1 high school for a year.
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( one of my favorite lines from the novel. 🤍 )
I thought the whole “switching at birth” trope was gonna turn me off or it will be a useless part of the story but oh boy was I wrong. The way it was used by the author to further the plot and developed the MC as well as his relationships was excellent. I found myself wanting to throw my phone and scream at certain points. This is also a short novel, 60+ chapters but it is well paced. The romantic relationship is not rushed and you can see the characters grow. That is one thing I love is that the MC/ML didn’t seem flat. They changed in the course of the story, became a better person because of e/o.
Now let me talk about the MC/ML. I love them. 🥺 The MC - Tao Xi is not your typical protagonist. He starts of as selfish and even childish but as the story progresses you can see him turn into this person he always dream he could be. As a reader, this is rewarding to witness. There are moments I wanna hug him and tell him that it’s gonna be okay. I really wish him well and hope that he gets to paint more beautiful things. As for the ML - Lin Qinhe. He is the best boy. Starts off as this arrogant little shit that I want to slap but by midpoint, I was part of the Lin Qinhe Fanclub 😂 LQH is truly that type of person who was emotionally neglected, became a loner but still is the most empathetic person in the room. There is a line that he says to the ML and it stuck with me— I will listen. and well isn’t that what we all want. Someone who will listen to us. Someone who sees us. I swear people label things as love story but I don’t usually get it, but this one — I GET IT. Yes. This is a story of how love can change you.
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The relationship between them is so special. Not even the romantic one but how they interact and change their dynamic from strangers to friends. It is a slow burn, they don’t get together till around chapter 40 or so. So you get so invested and when it happens it’s like you won something. The MC’s confession could also rival WWX’s so that’s a huge plus ( well for me ). Oh and LQH is not the one he was switched with at birth incase you were wondering.
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I won’t say anything more so I won’t spoil it but if you’re interested and you wanna try something— please give this one a shot.
This rec is longer than my other ones because I enjoyed it so much and fits with the Mid Autumn Festival theme. 🌙
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Note
Another person that needs to be mentioned when talking recs is @jazzelsaur!
She is such a wonderful person and such a wonderful writer!
I've yet to read through all the gems on her masterlist but the ones I have read have left me completely speechless!
I think the first thing I read by Jess was her Whiskey/reader/Frankie story Stars Hit the Ceiling. It was not a pairing I had expected or thought about before but after reading this story, I was completely sold. It was such an intimate and gentle and beautiful and hot story and I loved it so much!
My fave on her masterlist however is her latest story with Dieter Bravo. Stay on the Screenplay. She took a character that was barely a character in the movie and fleshed him out into such a complex, real, and believable character. She made me fall in love with him and with the reader (that's written so vividly that she feels like an OFC). Jess had me hooked with each chapter of this story. The whole thing reads almost like a poem and she manages to convey more emotion with a single sentence than I've read entire books manage to do.
Jess is truly a master of storytelling and I can't wait to read the rest of her stories! I've had Between the Raindrops saved in my drafts for the longest time, waiting for the right day to read it because I know it will completely wreck me and that I'll never be the same after I've read it.
I recommend everyone check out this wonderful person and her stories!
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Favorite Fanworks Fic & Author Rec:
Fanfic by @jazzelsaur:
Stars Hit the Ceiling [crossover: Agent Whiskey x f reader x Frankie Morales oneshot]
Stay on the Screenplay [The Bubble: Dieter x f reader, complete]
Between the Raindrops [Triple Frontier: Frankie x widow ofc reader, epic, complete]
(Last Day to send in a rec for twp’s “Show Me the Fanworks!” Celebration)
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Yaaaas! In this house we love Jess and worship her gorgeous fic!!  BtR is hands down one of the best stories I’ve ever read, and you're right to wait until you have a bit of time to read it because it will completely destroy you in the best possible way!
Thanks for sending in the rec so everyone else can be completely destroyed by her top-tier writing as well! 😌
🧡 twp
[Edited to Add: All recs now compiled on the Fav Fanworks Rec List]
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aksaraer · 5 months
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Reviewing the professionalism of the 38th elected work of Denny Ja: “Then they pray Friday at the Church”
The 38th Denny Ja award is in the spotlight in the world of Indonesian arts and literature. One of the chosen works given by the award is an essay poem entitled “Then they pray Friday at the Church”. This essay poem is written in a stunning style and shows the writer’s professionalism in raising sensitive social issues.    In this essay poem, Denny JA invites readers to dive into the journey of a group of people who make big changes in their lives. This story is centered on friendship between Muslims and Christians, as well as their struggle in overcoming religious differences.    In the writing process, Denny JA shows high professionalism in presenting in -depth insights about culture and religion. He described the exact conflicts that occur in a diverse society, as well as how strong friendship can overcome these differences.    This essay poem also highlights the beauty of strong language and narrative. Denny JA is able to describe the atmosphere and emotions in such detail that the reader feels the presence of each character. His rich and descriptive language style makes every chapter in this essay poem so interesting to follow.    In addition, Denny Ja also succeeded in presenting complex and interesting figures. Every character in this essay poem has a strong background and motivation, so that the reader can easily connect with them. The emotional journey experienced by each character also describes real life so authentic.    During the writing process, Denny Ja also showed his expertise in assembling interesting storylines. The reader will feel interested in continuing to read this essay poem because of the growing conflict and shaking tension. This essay poem not only entertains, but also provides a deep insight about the importance of tolerance and interfaith friendship.    Reviewing “then they pray Friday at the Church” incomplete without praising the extraordinary editing quality in this essay poem. Each chapter and paragraph are arranged neatly, allowing the story to flow smoothly. Denny Ja also managed to maintain the sustainability of the narrative, so the reader did not lose the complex storyline.    In addition, this essay poem is also accompanied by an interesting illustration and describes the atmosphere well. This illustration adds a visual dimension that makes the reader more involved in the story. This shows that Denny Ja is very concerned about every detail in his essay poetry, including the use of visual elements.    Overall, “Then they pray Friday at the Church” is an amazing work from Denny Ja. This essay poem not only presents interesting stories, but also provides in -depth teaching about the importance of mutual respect and understanding differences between religions. Denny Ja has shown extraordinary professionalism in writing works that not only entertain, but also stimulate thought.    With this essay poem, Denny Ja proves herself as one of the leading writers in Indonesia. Karyakarya like this has a positive influence on society, expands our understanding of diversity, and promotes inter -religious peace.
Check more: review with the professionalism of the 38th elected work of Denny JA: “Then they pray Friday at the Church”
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exrconsultancy · 1 year
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Stephen King: Uncollected, Unpublished |Booksvenue
Introduction
Stephen King Uncollected, Unpublished is the most comprehensive review of the Stephen King works you’ve never read. With new material, this edition of Stephen King: Uncollected, Unpublished features an unprecedented look at nearly one hundred unpublished works of fiction—novels, short stories, screenplays, and poems. Plus, our book includes two other lost works by King as well: an entire chapter from the unpublished 1970 novel Sword in the Darkness that has never been published anywhere else, and a poem about Dean Martin! The book was nominated for a Bram Stoker Award® for Superior Achievement in Non-Fiction by the Horror Writers Association in 2006. 
The latest is the Fourth Edition, published by Overlook Connection Press and available in both hardcover and paperback editions. This amazing book is the ultimate guide to "Stephen King," because it covers twenty of his unpublished short stories, poems, and screenplays, as well as other rare works. It also tells us about everything that King has published—as well as some things that he hasn’t! And this is big news for Stephen King fans. Who can remember all those times when a listener was wondering what was going to happen next?
Buy Now
Who is the author of “Stephen King Uncollected, Unpublished”?
This is the updated and revised edition of the classic book by Stephen King, Uncollected, Unpublished. This edition is likely to prove to be the definitive book about King's uncollected, unpublished, and lost works. Compared with earlier editions, this new edition contains a series of newly discovered unpublished works, including Hatchet Head, The Ladies Room, another incomplete Western novel, and many more newly discovered works of Stephen King fiction. Of these, the author was able to secure Stephen King's exclusive and definitive statements about how they originated and why they never saw the light of day.
Rocky Wood, with David Rawsthorne and Norma Blackburn, is the author of Stephen King's Uncollected, Unpublished. Stephen King is one of the most prolific writers of our time or, really, any time. What may surprise the uninitiated is that beyond the shiny bestsellers, there’s a whole wealth of underground Stephen King material: work that has been published but never collected, work that has never been published, and work that has never been finished.
It’s one of the most notorious works by a writer who is best known for his horror and suspense stories. Now you can read an unpublished chapter from Stephen King's legendary lost novel, Sword in the Darkness! Dino, previously published in a small literary journal and discovered at Syracuse University's E.S. Bird Library in New York—a completely different story than what was later aired on TV! These stories have been completely remastered for this print edition. They are presented in their original order, and each chapter starts with a new introduction by the author.
Interesting Facts about the book
Stephen King: Uncollected, Unpublished is an oversize reference book for Stephen King fans. The book is exactly what it says: a collection of King’s unpublished work. In this book, we see the first published version of the story that became The Body (1984); we get to read a complete chapter from the unpublished 1970 novel Sword in the Darkness; and we finally get to read a poem about Dean Martin! The information in this book is essential for collectors and casual readers of King's works.
There are numerous updates in this revised edition including new additions such as an extensive annotation of all known edits and final changes between successive printings, extensive annotations to enrich the reader’s understanding by identifying character names that appear only once, speaking roles identified for actors appearing in select films based on King works.
This new collection features over one hundred entries detailing all of King's uncollected and unpublished works, many of which have never been available for public discussion. Included are in-depth discussions of several unpublished King novels, such as Blaze, and incomplete novels, such as George D. X. McArdle. Detailed overviews cover dozens of rare unpublished screenplays that were never produced, including King's adaptations of Cujo, Children of the Corn, The Dead Zone, Desperation, Dolan's Cadillac, and Night Shift, as well as his adaptations of other classic novels like Something Wicked This Way Comes and The Plant (which were already available in print but until now had been lost). 
King's uncollected and unpublished works are extensive, including several lost manuscripts. King collected all of his uncollected short stories, most of which were never heard of until now. In addition to covering his unpublished pieces, the book also contains essays that detail two dozen more unknown and unpublished works, such as "An Evening at God's" and “Keeper of Nightmares."
 Make sure that you have the complete Stephen King: Uncollected, Unpublished Collection of all of the uncorrected versions and changes to his published stories. This makes an excellent gift for connoisseurs and collectors alike-or simply an interesting look into what King's writing process is like, especially if you're just starting out reading one of his books!
This edition features Stephen King’s first original screenplay, a never-before-published tale that was adapted into his cult classic film, Poltergeist. It also includes exclusive insight from the author on unpublished stories from his "Die" series and "The Tommyknockers." There is also new material about his previously unpublished works, including The Wake (1912), Blood Sport (1931), and more.
Put your survival skills to the ultimate test in this collection of previously unpublished Stephen King fiction and the unpublished novel "The Man Who Loved Tom Gordon." Featuring more than twenty stories, including two all-new ones, this exclusive volume offers a rare glimpse into the world of one of America's greatest writers.
Both entertaining and controversial, this book not only reveals fascinating insights into the world of Stephen King but also shines a light on the previously unknown output that makes up his vast writing history. These stories have been completely remastered for this print edition. They are presented in their original order, and each chapter starts with a new introduction by the author.
Buy the book Stephen King: Uncollected, Unpublished from www.booksvenue.com
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More than 15 million books
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personroad76 · 2 years
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Publishing And Different Forms Of Insanity: February 2022
Prize: Grand prizes of $1000 each, and 4 poets will receive $500 for poems of specific benefit. Translations of English poems to Spanish. Genre: Poetry. Poems must be set in St Paul, within the winter. E book has to be set in considered one of the unique eleven states within the Confederacy. Style: Unpublished manuscript for an early chapter ebook focusing on readers aged 9 to eleven years outdated. Restrictions: Open to an rising poet below forty years outdated-with no main ebook publication. Prize: $250 and publication in the print and on-line editions of the Nantucket Listing. Nantucket Listing Poetry Contest. Honeysuckle Chapbook Contest. Style: Poetry and quick tales. Style: Poetry chapbook (30 pages). Genre: A novel, assortment of stories, or memoir in progress (a hundred pages minimum) or poetry collection in progress (30 pages minimum). Restrictions: open solely to those who have not professionally published a novel or short novel, or more than one novelette, or more than three short stories, in any medium. Restrictions: Books must have been written or translated by Canadian citizens or permanent residents of Canada. There are prizes for novel manuscripts, poetry, short stories, essays, works of nonfiction, youngsters's books and extra. Authors who've printed works of fiction, prose, poetry and/or non-fiction are eligible; reference works, scholarly monographs and books of images is not going to be considered. The award is open to non-fiction books that have an existing publishing contract with a acknowledged business writer. Restrictions: Open to UK residents or nationals, aged 18 or over, who've a history of publication in artistic writing. Prizes: €500, publication within the Irish Put up, and a trip to the Listowel Writers’ Week in Co. Kerry. Prizes: Three money prizes in every quarter: a first Prize of $1,000, a Second Prize of $750, and a 3rd Prize of $500, in US dollars. Style: Pieces of any genre as much as 2500 phrases on the theme of “Childhood.” Prize: The primary place winner receives £3000. Any genre. Flash fiction: 500 phrases or less. Style: Quick story. Length: Between 1,000 and 5,000 words. The Premises:CLOTHES. Write a artistic, compelling, properly-crafted story during which a number of items of clothing play an essential function. Lake Superior State University High school Brief Story Prize. Nicholas A. Virgilio Memorial Haiku Competitors for High school College students. Beverly Hopkins Memorial Poetry Contest for High school College students. North Carolina Poetry Contest. Balticon Poetry Contest. Sponsored by the Baltimore Science Fiction Society. NEA Literature Fellowships are sponsored by the Nationwide Endowment for the Arts. Speculative Literature Foundation Older Writers Grant. Emerging Author: $5,000 money prize and $2,500 grant for his or her hometown Indiana public library. It is a pre-publication award and the prize winner can be announced prior to the ebook's publication date. Prize: Between US$60 and US$220, and publication. Prize: First prize $1,500, and a runner-up prize $500. Style: Poetry. Prize: First prize $200, Second prize $125, Third prize $75. Prize: First place winners will obtain a money prize of $100; second place winners will receive $75; and third place winners will obtain $50. Prize: $200 awarded to seven winners. Winners should be capable to attend an awards ceremony. Governor Basic's Literary Awards. The Golden Baobab Prize for Early Chapter Books. Self-revealed books accepted. Prize: £15,000. 代写essay : Stipend of $10,000 with a housing suite and campus meals provided by the College, and three weeks in residence on the Lake Forest Faculty campus throughout the Spring 2017 term. Genre: Novel printed in 2017 (50,000 words minimal). Style: Journey writing novel. With 50 to select from, March is a good month without cost writing contests. Deadline: March 12, 2018. Snail mail entries solely. Deadline: March 25, 2018. No reprints or simultaneous submissions. Genre: Poetry, one poem, most forty eight traces. There must be no a couple of poem per page. There aren't any restrictions on age or race. Restrictions: Open to undergraduate poets who're enrolled in a United States faculty or college. Restrictions: Open to Connecticut Pupil Poets in Grades 9-12. Style: Poetry.
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duckprintspress · 3 years
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How can I return to writing after a long hiatus?
This post is based on a conversation we had in the Duck Prints Press LLC Discord, and all contributors comments have been used/paraphrased/integrated into this post with permission. The people who contributed ideas to this post are: @nottesilhouette, @ramblingandpie, @arialerendeair, @tryslora, @deansmultitudes, @theleakypen, Owlish Intergalactic, myself (I’m @unforth), and one who preferred to remain anonymous.
Few things are harder than coming back to writing after a long period of not writing. Being creative takes a lot of energy, and starting after not doing so for a period of time takes even more energy. The writers on our Discord had a really productive discussion, where we talked about strategies we’ve each personally used to help us get our writing mojo back. None of these methods work for everyone, but if you haven’t written in a while, maybe one of these will work for you!
How to Revive that Creative Writing Spark:
doing sprints with a friend - knowing you’re all in it together can really help!
talking with writing buddies about what you’re each working on - the shared enthusiasm can be really helpful,
journaling, about daily life, or about dreams you’ve had - turning the dream into something coherent can be a great strategy (or, don’t bother, and just write it however crazily it took place!)
pick a random story you wrote in the past and read a chapter, paragraph, or 500 word segment - and look at it as a reader, say things you liked about it, praise it, emphasize the good things about your own writing.
transcribe a song with lyrics you find inspiring, or crack open a favorite book and transcribe a few paragraphs. You can even do it with something you’ve written yourself!
set a low-pressure, low-word count deadline - make it public, if you’re the kind of person that helps, or keep it to yourself.
sign up for a zero-consequence challenge, such as a bingo, or the Duck Prints Press #drabbledaysaturday prompts on Twitter - something where no one will mind if you don’t succeed, but you might find some inspiration.
create a small goal, either daily, weekly, or monthly - it can be a time frame (I’ll write for 5 minutes a day!) or a word count (I’ll write 1,000 words a month!) or even something tiny (I’ll write one sentence a day!) or a public sharing goal (post a ficlet a day!) and then do your best to stick to it, and reward yourself when you succeed.
open your ask box or otherwise solicit short prompts - for example, do a “three sentence” meme (”send me a pairing and a trope and I’ll write a three sentence fill”) or a story title meme (”send me a story title and I’ll write a little about the story I’d create with that title”) or an emoji prompt (”send me three emojis and I’ll write a ficlet”) or make your own fun one that will bring you joy (one of our writers created a “name two characters and I’ll make them kiss in six sentences or less” meme that helped them a lot)
participate in a prompt month, something with no consequences for failure but with prompts that can inspire daily ficlet.
write without editing, and just throw what you create out into the world - anything to get the words flowing.
challenge yourself to write a drabble day, no more and no less.
try changing how or when you write - get a nice journal and write by hand, or if that’s your normal, try writing in a word document instead.
write at different times of day, and see if it’s easier for you over breakfast, or after lights out, or during your lunch break, or by stealing a few minutes while you’re “on the clock” at work.
make an attempt at different formats of writing - if you usually write prose, try a poem; if you usually write really long things, try a drabble.
look out your window, or find a place you like, and just describe what you see.
do some free association exercises - for example, use a random word generator (I use this one sometimes) and then write literally whatever word comes into your head next - keep going until you fill the page, or until it starts to turn into a story, or just until you don’t feel like it any longer.
pick a random sentence (the person who suggested this often uses “Just write anything”) to be the start of a story, and “pants” your way through whatever comes next, without worrying about grammar, continuity, logic, or much of anything.
plan ahead - schedule your writing time and don’t let yourself put it off (rewards for success are always good!) and/or visualize exactly what you want to write ahead so you’re ready when you sit down.
if you get hit by inspiration, don’t put it off - even if all you do is scrawl a sentence in your phone or on scratch paper between other tasks, get it out of your head. Even a single sentence is a creation!
get out of the spaces where your usual things are - go to a park, or on a hike, or in your backyard, or even a different room in your own home, and bring a journal or phone or laptop, and see what strikes you.
pick That Thing You Haven’t Been Letting Yourself Write and ignore all the things you Think You Should Be Writing and just...write what brings you joy
fanfiction can be very helpful, especially in canon using canon-compliant ships/characterizations - there’s no need to do the heavy lifting. Even if you just write the characters going to a grocery store, or talking about what movie they want to watch, or arguing over take out - something short and sweet that’s just for fun, with no expectations for yourself or anyone else.
alternatively, if you’re the type who writes better for others and you’re feeling down - knock out anything, even something short, and post it, and take joy even in a single like or kudos. Knowing even one person out there loved what you wrote can really help.
Any or all of these may help you, but there’s one final one that I, at least, think is the most important of all - and that’s helped me most.
FORGIVE YOURSELF. You have work in progress up. It’s okay to leave them. You told someone you’d write something for them. It’s okay not to. You have a deadline looming. It’s okay to ask for more time, or to withdraw, or - in the end - it’s even okay to ghost. You think what you’ve made is bad. It’s okay if it’s bad. You’ll never be able to create when you’re raking yourself over the coals. Everyone in fandom has “been there” - has missed deadlines, has left challenges, has abandoned works in progress, have reneged on a promise to a friend to write something. Until you forgive yourself, you’ll never be able to create anything, and isn’t even a single sentence that isn’t on that Big Important Thing better than no sentences on anything?
Forgive yourself, and find that spark, inspiration, muse, whatever you want to call it - and write things that bring you joy.
We believe in you!
YOU CAN DO IT!
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oonajaeadira · 3 years
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If You Will Let My Heaven Touch Your Stars (Ezra x f!reader)
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Rating: Mature. 
Pairing: Ezra (Prospect film) x f!reader
Warnings: FLUFFY SMUT. INSPIRED BY THIS. Non-explicit oral (m and f receiving). Formatting may be strange in certain Tumblr themes due to paragraph spacing with the poetry.
A/N: Okay, y’all. I was looking for another reason to write some Ezra. I got inspired by this naughty confessional post and felt the need to rise to the challenge, but make it a bit soft. You know I’m allergic to writing physical doings without some emotional yearnings. So it has come to this. And I’m not sorry.
Summary: Ezra runs his mouth over some poetry. You run your mouth over some Ezra.
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MASTERLIST
_______________________________
You know that sigh. It will be shortly followed by a gravelly, dissatisfied “hm.”
“Hm.” 
Next will come the impatient flipping of pages as Ezra learns that the book he’s chosen from the stack he got in trade on the Pug is…”less than literary and more than malignant.”
“What’cha reading, Ez.” The main node on the electropulse generator blew during the last harvest and you’ve been doing your best to repair it for the better part of the scaling period. Better to keep eyes on the electrics than let them wander over to his bedroll where he’s stripped to his skivvies, propped up against a crate, reading.
The rotation of Ranakh-4 is almost sixty hours, and in the north hemisphere there’s always light. Should be perfect for prospectors to take shifts and get things done, but instead, it creates a scaling period--a good fifteen-hour window of intense heat and sunlight that’s too dangerous to be exposed to for long, causing lots of nasty side effects. Including skin scaling. Hence the name. So during that period you and Ezra hide in the cooled tent, sleeping, polishing gems, maintaining equipment, wasting time, and generally trying not to annoy each other too much.
That’s a joke between you. In the years you’ve known him, Ez has yet to get under your skin. Ezra’s usually up for a game of dice or five-stand during scaling period, and if you’ve got gear to clean or inventory to count, he’s good for a story. Or ten.
But after the third rotation he stopped playing games of chance with you and his stories got gradually less... crusty. He still had a lot to say, but he stuck mostly to mining anecdotes, weaving around salacious details and editing himself in the moment.
And you’re pretty sure you know why.
This isn’t the first posting you’ve had with Ezra.
There was the assignment on Phintreas. The job on TG-19. The second assignment on Phintreas--that one it was just the two of you. Just like this one. 
There was a moment near the end of that run when you took a break from digging to stretch, arching your back in the dappled sunlight and pulling your arms up and back toward the thick foliage tops. There were singing insectoid creatures on Phintreas and you’d dropped your wrists to your head to listen to their song a little, closing your eyes and hearing in their hum the chords of a song you used to love.
It was just a few seconds, the warm air on your bare shoulders, the long thin trees--actually large grass--rising and swaying above. A pleasant stretch in your lower back. But there was something off. Your ears were full of insect song but there was something missing. 
The sound of Ezra’s digging had stopped.
You turned to find him taking a break, leaning on his shovel, jumpsuit open and pulled down to a knot at his waist like yours. Dirt-streaked arms and undershirt, looking at you, staring with sad eyes, the long slopes of his mustache running into his patchy beard making him look like he was pouting more than he was. Probably. Totally lost in thought, his eyes slid down your torso. When he woke to the fact that you caught him using you as a backdrop for reverie, he didn’t even have the balls to be embarrassed. Just realigned his focus on his shovel and went back to digging, the veins straining out on his big hands.
“You okay, Ez?”
“As well as one can be, sweetheart. I feel we’re close. It is a fine day full of wonderments.”
You’d thought about that look in the days afterward. Didn’t really know what it meant for you. Until the final sleep cycle on that grass planet, the wind traveling through the fields making the grasses sing hollow and low in the night. 
“What’cha reading, Ez?” You’d come to learn that it was a magic question, one that not only got you an explanation, but perhaps a chapter or two in his baritone twang.
And that night, as you packed your final bag, he swung the spine around to read out, “Papas Cordel, Love Verses.”
He didn’t ask you if you wanted to hear any. He just started to read.
Softly. Slowly. The words were innocuous on their own but their combination was sinful, his voice melting at the back of your brain, lifting the fine hairs of your neck, slithering down your spine before making an orbit to press upon your core and vibrate there. 
He never said goodnight. Just read you a few poems full of worship and yearning in that sonorous voice of his, then rolled over and went to sleep. It left you in a panic, trying to control your breathing, in full understanding of what that look from a few days ago had really meant.
And for the duration of your next couple of jobs you spent some time in regret, wishing you’d decoded your feelings sooner or that he’d made his own clearer. You’d vowed that if you ever had the chance to go back and live that night again you wouldn’t hesitate to….what? To do what? You never got that far. Didn’t matter. Time doesn’t go backwards. After a while, it was easy enough to convince yourself that you’d just read too much into it, that you didn’t really feel anything and neither did Ez. He had just been tired and staring into space that day. And he’d just been aesthetically moved by the song of the grasses in the night wind. It was a trick of the light, and the more you rationalized it, the further the memory slipped into the realm of silly fantasy.
So when this assignment came, you’d had time enough to leave the fantasy behind and met Ezra as you always had--as a friend and a damn talented prospector you were happy to dig with. The man always got his haul and getting paired with him always meant profit.
It only took one scaling period to make you realize you were lying to yourself. 
Scaling period means getting somewhere shaded and cooled and making yourself as comfortable as possible. Which means stripping down to essentials. All those dice games trying not to look at Ezra’s broad, bared chest, looking up from a hand of cards to find his eyes quickly darting away from you…. By the third rotation you’d noticed that neither of you could make eye contact with the other anymore and after that, Ezra generally spent his downtime during scaling periods laying on his bedroll in his skivvs, reading one of the dozen books he’d scavenged back on the station.
You weren’t sure if you were flattered or embarrassed or even injured that he wouldn’t move on whatever he was tense about. But, ultimately, this arrangement was easier.
Or so you lied to yourself.
A “what’cha reading, Ez” got you a few chapters of an old time-travel adventure or a philosophical treatise on the life of some forgotten pioneer while you mended a garment or recounted the supply of viable drill bits or tried to fix the damn faulty electropulse generator for the millionth time. Something rollicking and full of resonance to keep your ears busy and your mind distracted while you focused your eyes on anything but Ezra’s bronze skin and sable eyes and full lips and big hands and thick thighs and--
This time he clicks his tongue and runs a hand through his hair, humming a high note in a kind of frustrated laugh. “I won’t devastate your ears on this one, sweetheart. Not much of interest here but some poor soul ruttin’ and scraping for talent that eludes them. How this found its way into a thing to be bought and sold I will never understand.”
And yet, he keeps reading. Silently.
After a few minutes and another wire successfully cleaned and reconnected, you repeat yourself, taunting him.
“What’cha reading, Ez.”
“Mm.” He just flips through a few more pages, refusing to answer.
“Hey.” You chuckle into your work. “What’cha reading.” 
You hear a huge intake of breath before a hold and a forced release.
“Wow,” you laugh. “Fine. Don’t waste breath on it. Just tell me which one it is so I can avoid it later.”
“Love and other Stars by Aeon Aido Raja.”
“I see. What’s it about?”
“Sadly, it is about a poet who cannot seem to make the match between words and sentiment; a volume of supposed amorous verse.”
“Amorous verse,” your hands stop working on their own. “Love...poetry?” There’s a sudden flashback to the sound of hollow reeds and soothing verses in the night. The words are a program in your brain, overwriting your inhibition and professionalism, pushing you to a deeply-coded goal to calm the flutter in your chest.
“So it claims. Although I fear it lacks full understanding of both--” His voice cuts out as he realizes you’ve stood and you’re moving toward him and his wide eyes lock to yours as you sit beside him on the bedroll. “Now what has gotten into you, sweetheart?”
You know exactly what’s gotten into you. The triggered wish of returning to that night, the built-up tension of dancing around each other in your underwear, trying to deny what’s going on, watching him purposefully respect you when you know he feels something, when he knows you do too--
What was it you were going to do if you had a chance to go back to that last night on the grass planet? Time to find out.
“Read to me.”
Ezra hesitates, unsure. “This?”
“Read it.”
His eyes flick down to follow the quick fold of your lips as you wet them with your tongue, unconsciously mimicking you, before fumbling his gaze back to the book and, with a regretful sigh, begins.
“I have never told you When your lips found my own I have never told you My dearest--
“Walking through the light of a moon in decline-- Can you blame me if I steal your kiss? If I call you to my side before it collides with the ground?”
When he looks for your reaction, you’re not sure if he’s pleading with you for permission to stop or continue.
Shit. He’s right. It isn’t great. But you’re here now, you’re going to make the most of it.
“That’s not...so bad.” And then you find out what you would have done that night--or at least how you’d start--by showing him your raised palm, lowering it slowly toward him. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” Your hand travels down through the air, just to the inch above his skivvs, waiting a moment in the aura of radiated heat there, before settling lightly over him. He never says no, never takes his eyes from yours, the only reaction coming from a small lift in his chest, the corner of his mouth curling just a fraction, and the fabric beneath your hand quickly becoming the only thing there to qualify as soft.
“Sweetheart, what you’re beginning here--”
“The only words I want from you are that poem. I want to hear you read. You stop, I stop.”
The heat hangs heavy between you, burns beneath your hand. And with a huffed exhale, Ezra starts again.
“I have never told you When your lips found my own I have never told you My dearest--
“Walking through the light of a moon in decline-- Can you blame me if I steal your kiss? If I call you to my side before it collides with the ground?”
Supporting him from underneath, you’ve begun running your thumb up and down him, and his breath hitches, bringing him to a stop. So you stop.
“You stop, I stop, Ez.”
“Believe me, gentle one, I do not wish the impediment of your affections--”
“Then don’t stop.”
In a beautiful panic, Ezra looks back to the poem. “You sure you want this one?”
You nod. “I don’t care how good it is. That’s the poem I want. Keep going. I've always liked your voice. I know you can make it pretty.”
He stares at the page a moment, and you push him--literally--gasping into a start.
“If ever I could tell you When my heaven touched your stars If ever I could tell you Beloved--”
You stop palming him when he stops to breathe, and it’s only when you trace his waistband with your fingertips that he swallows and continues, willing you to keep going--
“Waking in the night to the aching void of your embrace-- Can you forgive me if I plead your name? If I summon you to my body from wherever you are?”
Whether it’s the want in his voice or just getting further into the words, the poem is already getting better. His eyebrows begin to push together and arch, as you stretch the top of his underwear down, wrapping your hand around him. His words start riding the occasional groan which just resonate with you more and you rock yourself against the bedroll in time with your gentle, yearning pulls--
“You hold me adroitly With accurate proximity To keep your breath and my breath Two founts and one pool. To swim a in star-reflective stream of our holy recreation--”
He’s doing so well, the words wandering out deep and breathy, so beautifully controlled...until you lower your mouth to him.
Then there’s a strangled staccato grunt as he adjusts, takes a couple of quick breaths and continues--
“But your body is a.....wildfire Your lips a destruction And I give my everything over to your….cleansing devastation.”
Oh, his struggle is glorious. You can feel him trying not to buck, needing to blow out a breath between pursed lips here and there to concentrate on the print. He reads with intent, leaning into context and feeling, making a gift to you of every word.
“I have yearned for you to find me worthy of a spark An ignition... The rebirth of your combustible attentions.”
He pauses again to breathe, and while you allow him a small reprieve, he’s stopped a little too long and you abruptly halt. When you pull back to look up in reprimand, he gives you a soft smile through his panting, shaking his head in wonder. You know he’ll have plenty of praises when this is over, but he doesn’t seem to want to break the spell to say them now. When you return his little smile, he looks back to the page and continues, prompting you to return to your own administrations.
“How you draw from me each sweet effusion-- Every secret vein untapped-- Now yours in expert execution, Now open to your burning maw.”
He pushes through the poetry rather than into you, allowing you to hear him and match him. Your body begins to counter-react as you feel him brimming, turning on more need in you than you’ve felt in a while, and you show him just how well he’s doing by doing well by him. 
There’s a shift in his voice as more breath enters in and nonverbal noises begin to punctuate the words; a shift in his body as his fingers tangle in your hair and grip tightly, suggesting a final rhythm-- 
“But within the fire An aperture of...divine precipitation Where those of us who live untouched Can go to drown To die To howl…..! To see the blessed face of eternity Or the….busting open….of a thousand….wretched….stars-- You-call-me-to-sinful-prayer You-invoke-my-abject-soul I find myself in debt…!...and thrall…!... to your superior…!...divinity--”
When he stops reading this round, you show mercy as he pounds his fist into the bedroll and makes his own additions to the poem, exclamations made up of your name and curses and calls to higher powers. You can only expect a man to expel from himself wondrously one method at a time, and Ezra’s earned his reward so beautifully.
Damn his opinion. The poem was perfect. You chose correctly. Either that, or Ez’s tongue really can spin any old refuse into gold.
But the book is still held high, and as you lift from him and guide him through his aftershocks with your hand, he breathes heavy though the final verse--
“This is how I love you from afar With agony and forlorn words While you hover forever in my purview A shaft of dazzling incandescence Shining down from your sun/star Through the glass of my desire Starts and restarts an everlasting blaze”
Then, setting the book reverently on the bedroll, he takes your face in his hands, dragging his thumbs across your lips, no longer needing the page for the last lines.
“If ever I could tell you And if you will let my heaven touch your stars If ever I could tell you Beloved--”
Ezra’s kiss is achingly grateful. He tries to put into one kiss the loving equivalent of everything you’ve just done for him.
When he pulls back, he gives you the tiniest rough shake, a punctuation of his playful consternation. “Mmm,” he grunts. “While I am glad to know you find my recitals pleasing, you’re about to find out that my talent for oral ministrations do not stop at mere recitation.” With a miner’s strong arms he flips you over him onto the bedroll, making short work of your underwear and pinning your legs around his shoulders in a matter of seconds. “Now, I will not be so cruel as to make you put words to my reciprocation, unless you’d like to fill the silence to direct me to your will. Or say what you please. I will not be able to add to the conversation as I will be otherwise occupied.”
You don’t know if it’s years of running his mouth or wagging his tongue or yapping his jaw, but he’s well practiced in using allllll the muscles therein to help finish what poetry couldn’t quite accomplish.
At one point you think of surprising him and trying your own hand at reading while being entertained. But when you fumble for the book, it opens to the same poem.
But not the same poem.
The opening lines are there: “I have never told you When your lips found my own I have never told you My dearest--Walking through the light of a moon in decline--Can you blame me if I steal your kiss? If I call you to my side before it collides with the ground?”
And that’s it.
That’s where it ends. The whole published poem--a mere seven lines.
Oh, Kevva. That’s...that means….
Damn, Ezra. The mouth on you.
The book drops to the bedroll.
And you break into pieces as his heaven masterfully consumes your stars.
________________
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Taglist: @melobee @extraterrestrialdork @14mcmd1122 @grogusmum @cannedsoupsucks
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vynegar · 2 years
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poems in vyn’s personal story
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there are two poems mentioned in vyn’s personal story that tie in deeply with the themes of his route, so i wanted to write a post about them just to point them out. the two poems are “To The Nightingale” by John Milton and “Seeing You Carry Plants In” by Robert Bly.
this includes information about his personal storyline through chapter 2 and some of vyn’s family history.
[EDIT: it turns out that the second poem was mentioned in chapter 3 of his storyline; this post does not contain spoilers for that chapter, however.]
“To The Nightingale” by John Milton
full poem text here
This is the poem that MC posts on her online profile to attract the PUA mentor, Wayne (Story 2-10). MC couldn’t think of anything, so she just posted a poem that Kiki had showed her earlier.
I’m... uh.... not great at original literary analysis of older poems, so I’m just gonna link this analysis here that I’m basing my discussion on, and honestly I think everything mentioned fits extremely well for Vyn and MC. The poem presents the contrast between the nightingale, the bird of love, and the cuckoo, the bird of hate, and the speaker wishes that the nightingale will win in the end. With their wildly different personalities, MC and Vyn consistently have opposites as a theme in their stories: yin and yang in “Cool Summer”, light and dark and “Between Good and Evil", optimism vs pessimism in viewing human nature (”Blazing Colors”), and another poem that Vyn quotes in the main story (thanks to @salt-and-vynegar for pointing it out).
The end of the poem also slightly reminds me of Vyn and MC’s relationship. The nightingale sings later than the poet would like, but poet is still willing to serve as Muse or Love for it. Vyn has long been in love with MC but has been waiting patiently for MC to realize and decide on her own feelings, and is ready to accept her answer either way. (Though there’s a difference in that Vyn is much more content with waiting than the speaker of the poem is.)
One last thing about this poem that I saved for the end since it’s a nice transition to the next one: hope.
(Story 1-5) When Vyn explains the common PUA trap and how it’s a form of twisted manipulation under the guise of love, he says this about what actual love is:
Love brings light and hope into your life. Love lifts you up.
The poet proclaims that the nightingale’s song fills the lover’s heart with hope, and pleads that it sing before the cuckoo’s song can “[f]oretell [his] hopeless doom”. MC has brought optimism and hope into Vyn’s life, and over their relationship, her positivity has given him a new perspective on painful subjects such as his past.
“Seeing You Carry Plants In” by Robert Bly
(the tot wiki Big Data Lab entry says that this is unlocked in Story 1-05, but I don’t have this entry and I checked the story and I’m not sure if it shows up in that part? so idk, but the poem is interesting for our purposes so I’m going forward with this.)
[EDIT: turns out this poem is unlocked in Story 3-15. i’m just going to leave my analysis here because i think the poem is extremely fitting even for the earlier chapters of the personal story.]
full text here (thanks salt-and-vynegar for the link! originally i used this link)
So, there’s the obvious “plants = vyn’s garden” haha. But this poem also has to do with hope, though maybe it’s a bit meta since it’s not directly from the poem text? Many people posting the Chinese translation of this poem use a non-literal translation of the title, calling it “你手捧希望而来” which is something more like “You Come, Holding Hope in Your Hands”. Honestly, I’m not sure why it was translated this way because the translation of the poem content is otherwise quite direct, and the literal title seems fine, but I think it’s worth mentioning since this version of the poem title possibly reflects how Chinese readers interpret this poem.
Going through the middle of the poem,
The night is moist, and nourishing as your mind that lets everything around you live. I saw you carry the plants inside tonight over the grass, to save them from the cold.
The second stanza of the poem describes the kindness and positive effect of the “you” in the poem; MC’s compassion is something that Vyn frequently admires and is struck by, even if he sometimes considers those receiving it to be unworthy.
Sometimes I slip behind a door, so that I will not be called on, or walk hunched on sandbars below earth, not sure if anyone in my family can love.
Uh.... need I explain more? Vyn's cautiousness with the possibility of “love at first sight” stems from having personally seen the failure of this kind of love between his own parents, and he has a complicated relationship with his father and what seems to be a very distant relationship with his mother.
How much I love you. The night is moist. The air is still, as when I love you. It is not every evening that I love you. I come back like the stars, sometimes out of clouds.
[...]
Your voice is water open beneath stars, collected from abundant rain, gone to low places. The night is moist, the ground wet, air still, trees silent, and tonight I love you.
Finally, a comparison of the first and last stanzas of the poem, where we circle back to nighttime scenery and “I love you”. The speaker of the poem doesn’t love her “every evening”, and I would say this would be untrue of Vyn, who is completely enamored with MC every time he sees her. However, I think the overall journey of this poem fits Vyn’s journey through the first two chapters of his personal story very well.
The speaker begins with acknowledging his love, while also admitting the inconsistency and uncertainty of it; the speaker then considers their lover’s kindness and their own insecurities, before returning back to the original question with a confirmation that yes, “I love you”. Sitting alone in his study with his self-evaluations, Vyn knows he has feelings for MC and yet is unsure if these could just be remnants of his first impression, bolstered by the halo effect and primacy effect. It’s further complicated by the constant reminder that this is the kind of love that ended up ruining his father. Then, over the course of their PUA investigation, Vyn sees that MC really is the brave, intelligent, and compassionate person that he had in his first impression. This gives him enough to be able to confirm that it’s not just a fleeting illusion; she brings light and hope into his life, and he loves her.
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