#took back the iPhone (used it literally less than a day)
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Blues & Whites
It seems that people have gotten slower and it wasn’t just me picking on society.
Not only have recent reports shown us why all the generations that come after Gen X went to shit.
https://www.cnn.com/2018/06/13/health/falling-iq-scores-study-intl/index.html
Since 1932, average IQ scores have increased around three to five points per decade, the researchers explained, in the article.
But starting in the late 80′s/early 90′s it peaks and then the pattern begins to reverse and dip.
We know WHY this happens because we remember some of the players:
The internet itself, AOL, e-mail, which was followed by people going out less because of Amazon, and then there was Facebook & Apple, which led to Tesla and countless others to name here.
Technology.
Technology is what happened,
And the spectacular pace that some if it evolved at.
Within two decades cassette tapes and vinyl disappeared into thin air as the mp3 took over and was later cannablized by the stream.
https://www.forbes.com/sites/forbestechcouncil/2020/04/29/technology-is-on-the-rise-while-iq-is-on-the-decline/?sh=5631b07cb103
Recently,
To top all of this off,
Argumentative contrarians fought us hard for their masks—
While wearing their masks, at that,
Which already limit oxygen intake, as it is...
Our brains need oxygen to function properly and think clearly,
So I can see why cases of Long Covid have come up.
Cases of dreamy delusions.
We need to breathe more oxygen & inhale it profoundly to clear our minds.
I believe that more yellow & orange & red light from the sun will bring you more joy because when you are only receiving blue & white light ONLY from the monster L.E.D. screen in your mid-sized bedrooms, or simply just that iPhone in your hand all day & night.. It actually causes depression in human beings. We are missing out on a lot of other light that naturally falls/drapes over us when we are outdoors where we belong.
http://thedaylightsite.com/blue-white-light-why-all-the-fuss/
I think people are good. I do.
I just think they’ve been scared on purpose to be controlled for output.
That is it.
I think Americans are being bred just to work
Because the endless revenue of taxes allows the organized pirates to continue to print all the money they themselves can steal back.
But we can do better
By wanting & desiring so much less than we already have free-range access to.
Overthrowing a system that is about to be taken over by AI is impossible for us at the moment. We may not have the tech and it may be too late.
Minimizing the excess, however—
Aligns your energy centers to a position of access to natural longevity.
Peace of mind,
Extends your life.
If there is a fight to be had in the future,
Well then you must live long enough to fight,
And it’s not on your phone where you will find the nutrients your body requires to get there. It is literally outside and literally from the sun as well as a few other components that also do not dwell in only Blue & White Lights.
CP’23
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Social Media is a Vampire
by Don Hall
I'm shocked awake at 4:37 a.m. by the sound of someone in my apartment yelling about something. What? I live alone. Like ALONE alone. Who the fuck?
Struggling up on the couch (I don't have a bed but a really comfortable couch which is good because it takes up less space in the studio and there's far less temptation to invite a potential sex partner over cuz, uh, couch?) I can see not just a someone but a crowd of someone's all congregated in my place like a loose convention. I pop on a lamp.
A young white guy with a neckbeard rushes over. "Hey, Don! I know you're not going believe this. A guy in Florida was arrested...ARRESTED...for posting on his Facebook that he thought DeSantis was Hitler."
"What? Who are you?"
A young woman with a nose-ring (the bisexual badge) squats down. "Nonbinary rights are human rights! I'm a pansexual nonbinary who uses ze and zo pronouns and you WILL use them or else you support the genocide of the LGBQTA++++ community!"
A middle-aged guy in an ill-fitting suit and knit tie shoved her to the side, grabbed me by the shoulders and screamed "SOCIALISM IS COMING!"
I jumped off the couch and did a quick survey. There were nearly thirty people in my cramped apartment. All of them were engaged in contentious arguments. Ad hominem attacks were tossed out like confetti. A woman with a MAGA hat was yelling at a young black guy about something. An older black woman was yelling at him, too, about something else.
From the bathroom I heard a familiar voice cry out "Where's the plunger? I need the plunger!" and out strode none other than Donald Trump, a bit of toilet paper stuck to his waistband. "No one go in there for at least thirty minutes!" He looked downright proud of his joke despite no one laughing.
"Wait. WAIT! HOLD ON!" I barked. Everyone got quiet and looked at me like I had lost my mind. "Who are you people and what are you doing in my apartment?"
Trump took the center of the room, hands on hips like that cartoon baby with the genius mind and slightly British accent. "You invited us." He held up his smartphone and the screen shone black and blue with the Twitter logo. Everyone else held up their phones and the room wash dazzled by blue birds on screens.
A week past and while some left, others always came by to take their places. I tried to work but the nonstop arguing was maddening. I couldn't concentrate. Slowly, I found it difficult to think about anything but what these people were arguing about. I started arguing back about things that didn’t or shouldn’t matter to me—conspiracy theories about government, celebrity missteps, reductive stereotypes of any and everyone. So much of what these intruders were enraged about was about things and ideas that weren’t even a part of my daily existence and the obsession with them grew.
Two weeks later I found myself in someone else's apartment barking about the dangers of wokeness along with ten or twenty others all yawping about their own niche rage. I had been fully assimilated.
✶
A few years ago, I dumped my social media accounts. Faceborg was making me dislike people I’d never met. Instagram had me taking far too many pictures of myself and spending time comparing my life to the curated lives of people I’d never meet on boats. Twitter was just insane with a vomit of constant rage. I dabbled into TikTok and Snapchat—neither lasted on my iPhone for longer than a day.
The only toe-dip I kept was the Literate Ape Twitter account used to promote articles and books. Except I couldn’t not read the stuff. Scrolling through the nonsense, the arguments, the bullshit. I recently had an epiphany. None of these people on Twitter were people I’d hang out with in the real world let alone have an actual conversation with. Their need to dominate with their certainty about everything from COVID lockdowns to CRT in schools to trans-rights was fodder online but these issues don’t really affect me personally. Why was I paying so much attention to them and how was that payment changing my own behavior?
These were opinions I invited in. Like a vampire, social media doesn’t accidentally show up in your apartment. You invite it in and it sucks away your desire to read books by serious people, watch films of importance, take a walk without being distracted by your phone. Think about it for a moment—you’re out for a walk in the sunshine or rain or whatever the weather and, unless you have a call or text from someone you actually know, you aren’t staring at the screen.
Sure, social media can be curated to only the info and opinions you’d like but that’s like making the distinction that opioids are really good for headaches, too.
✶
Months later, as I stood in some woman’s home, arguing about the existence of man-made climate change with a portly Latino on my left and holding court with a thirteen-year-old kid pretending to be much older on the merits of centrism, I stopped. Yes, this woman had invited me in but I wasn’t a vampire (or at least I didn’t want to be). I stopped. Why was I arguing with these strangers in yet another stranger’s home?
“I’m sorry,” I said to her. “I’m disinviting myself.”
“You mean you’re leaving?”
“I am. You didn’t ask for my opinion. You just invited me in and were suddenly confronted with it. I think for now I’ll limit my opinion to my own platforms that you can choose to read or in person if you and I are actually having a conversation.”
“What about them?” she asked and motioned around the room to the others.
“C’mon. Let’s go get some coffee and talk about something we both are interested in.”
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I went to therapy yesterday and started talking about my ex and when i told my therapist out something that i had done i started to tear up and the rest of the day i spent in this weird funk. My parents were in town visiting me(they had driven 12 hrs to see me) and i told my gf at the time that i promise I'll try to be back early so we can go to the pool. Now obvs i got late because my dad hadn't eaten and was driving around to find something. She saw me(on find my iphone) and got mad saying i lied to her and broke her trust again. So i told her that i was sorry but my dad hadn't eaten so we were looking for food and she was like Idc he's an adult he can figure it out. I'm very close to my parents so this hurt a lot. That night i literally stood in the parking lot telling my mom i wish i could jump into the river and die bc i always felt like i had to choose and she said we'll never ask you to choose between her and us. Damn while writing this in crying. I went back to the house and we got into an argument and i told her that i have seen them for a yr and she was like i haven't seen mine for 5 and so i said that's not my fault...i have a good relationship with my parents.
The worst part is the next morning i woke up and made her breakfast and cleaned the house tm and took care of the animals
First. I wanna say thank you for confiding in me and sharing this with me. It’s okay to get emotional and cry and I’m glad you found my ask box to be a safe place to open up about it. Bottling up feelings is THE WORST thing you could do.
Second, Im also very very very family-oriented and I had a similar problem with one of my ex’s in the past as well. So I totally understand how torn you feel right now. I do not think that was very fair of her to come at you like that and accuse you of lying to her without having a proper conversation about it first. Of course, I don’t know your gf, but I’m sure her assumption came from a place of insecurity in herself. This does not justify her actions or words in making you feel guilty, but it’s important to take this into consideration too.
I am very glad you are here and didn’t jump into any rivers because you have a purpose here regardless of if you are aware of it yet or not. Be patient with yourself. I’m not sure how long you have been with your gf or any other details of your relationship, but if this is something that happens a little more often than it should, I would consider having a sit-down with her and laying it all out on the table. For those of us who have a good relationship with our parents, it is okay to put our family first. Do not feel guilty for making time for your family. If she is having trust issues with you but are not properly communicating those feelings and thoughts in a productive way, it becomes more difficult for you to reassure her. Then, this causes a domino effect where you will start to have trust issues with her if she continues to jump to conclusions about your intentions rather than speaking with you first. Like I said, I suggest speaking with her during a time where there’s less tension between you two, calm and level-headed, and explain how it made you feel. In a way that won’t make her feel like you’re pointing any fingers because that may result in her getting defensive.
Sorry for babbling, I hope I helped a lil. Even if it helped you feel heard and understood. My inbox and ask box is always open if you need to vent my friend 💜 continue to be strong but remember it’s okay to fall sometimes, just make sure you dust yourself off and get back up.
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Top 5 Small Businesses Android Apps That Boost Productivity
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Top Three Utility Apps To Check Out
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(No) More Hooverphonic Music
Yo yo yo! It's me once again.
You know, I've got a "new" phone just yesterday because my current phone isn't working anymore. It's a really old iPhone (ew) SE. Because I wanted to set it up, I created a new Apple ID (this is gonna haunt me the rest of my life) and installed some apps I really needed:
Spotify, YouTube, DB Navigator, Google Maps (of course!), Telegram, Webnovel and Wupsi.
Because all my passwords got compromised recently, I changed all my passwords, which was my first struggle because I generated the new passwords all automatic using Bitwarden (awesome software). So I logged into Spotify, and because I always listen to music offline if I can, I started downloading my huge library of over 6k songs (yes, I listen to *all* of them haha). While I was browsing it, I found a song from Hooverphonic.
So for your info, I literally grew up with this and a few more bands because my father listened to them all the time, meaning I would hear them too, and they were g-r-e-a-t!
The song I found was "Eden" from the Album "Blue Wonder Power Milk". This was really my first song I really started to love. I still remember the old times when my father managed to get all the songs from Hooverphonic on my old Nokia and I instantly got hooked listening to them. Seriously, non-stop. Just don't think about the quality of the music ^-^
Because I still love their music (and own all of their records on vinyl) I started listening to it. And wow, that took me back in time. After listening to it like eight or nine times in a row, I viewed the full album, listened to it for a whole day, then downloaded all the other albums they had. I re-discovered old favorites of mine, such as "Sometimes", "Wake Up" or whole albums just like "Blue Wonder Power Milk".
But because I'm a "cool kid", I stopped listening on Spotify, turned my Record player and started playing their record of "Blue Wonder Power Milk". I just couldn't stop and always again and again listened to it.
It just made me feel sad that the music nowadays is becoming worse and worse, made with less and less effort. Just five lines of text then the refrain and repetitive loops of instruments. Take "Space Man" by Sam Ryder from Eurovision Song Contest 2022. Let me count them for you: One, two, three, four, and again, then refrain, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, okay okay, now eleven, twelve, thirteen, refrain again, 14, 15, 16, 17, okay then a slightly different version of the refrain, 18, 19, then the last four sentences are just again refrain. Wow, 19 lines of unique lyrics!
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!
Just compare it with "Little Dark" by MGMT from 2018... it has way more than 19 lines of unique lyrics. Wow... was it that hard for Sam Ryder to come up with some lyrics? Really? I mean, for fucks sake, even I can do better!
So yeah, this is just some rant of some random guy from the internet, but keep that in mind. But hey, not all songs are like that! Take MGMT, Hooverphonic, libEluLLah, EERA, Udo Jürgens and a lot more of artists that produce (or produced) great music with more than... embarrassing 19 lines of unique lyrics.
Well well guys, I hope you liked my runt (as always).
Have a wonderful day, Selim!
Edit 02.03.2023: Changed "Grammophone" to "Record player", since it's not a Grammophone but a record player (I guess?).
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The one with the snake
Pairing : Snake Hybrid!Kim Taehyung x CEO!Min Yoongi (MXM)
Genre : Fluff
Warning : Shitty customers, use of curse words, these two get it on at the end lmao
Wc : 1961
Rating : PG13
A/N : Thank you @taegularities for being my beta ily. Hope you guys like this fic, if you have any idea/promt/req send ‘em my way~<3
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Taehyung woke up to an empty bed, no sight of his boyfriend, and what made it worse was the fact that he’d had a nightmare. With the day already feeling like it was ruined, Taehyung left the bed and went to get ready. It seemed that life hated him though, of all the days, today had to be the day that the geyser had to break.
After the insanely cold shower, Taehyung’s mood had worsened even more. Frowning, Taehyung walked to the kitchen after changing - where he couldn’t find his favourite jacket, so he had to wear a completely different outfit than he had planned originally - to find the toaster broken too.
Taehyung groaned, throwing his head back in frustration. He grumbled as he walked to the fridge and opened it, annoyance rising even more when he found it empty, save for some coffee that he didn’t even like. Slamming it shut, he walked out of the kitchen and went to grab his things to leave for the day. He could get some food on the way or have Jin hyung make him some.
-----
Standing in the parking lot, Taehyung stared at his car, or well, the spot where his car was supposed to be but wasn’t. Mouth agape in shock, Taehyung slowly raised his phone to his mouth, “Hey Siri, call Min Dickin on speaker.”
“Calling Min Dickin iPhone on speaker.”
Taehyung stood there waiting for Yoongi to pick up, trying to figure out where his damn car went. “Hello?” A voice rang out from his phone. “Hey uh, where the hell is my car?” Taehyung asked.
“What do you mean where’s your car? It’s in the parking lot.”
Trying to keep the creeping headache at bay, Taehyung rubbed his face, stress levels increasing with each passing second, “It’s not there, smartass.”
“What do you mean it’s not there?”
“What the fuck do you think it means?”
There was a pause after that in which none of them said anything, though Taehyung could hear muffled sounds of Yoongi moving around and talking to someone else.
“Oh! Babe don’t worry, Namjoon took it to the repair shop apparently,” Yoongi spoke up after a while. Taehyung closed his eyes and took in a deep breath at that before saying in the sweetest voice he could muster, “Well then, baby. How am I supposed to get to work today?”
“....Ta..ke the bike?”
“Jungkook and Jimin crashed it last week, remember?”
“...I could send a car to pick you up?”
“Yoongi, your office is an hour away from here and I need to be there in,” Taehyung pulled his phone back to check the time, “7 minutes ago, great.”
“Call Jin hyung and let him know you’re gonna be late, I’m sure he’ll understand.”
Before Taehyung could reply, however, his phone beeped once and then shut off. Taehyung tried turning it on, but the screen only displayed an empty battery symbol. He swore to himself as he glared down at the dead phone, he wanted to chuck that thing into the ocean.
Taking a deep breath to calm himself down, Taehyung walked out of the building to catch a bus and finally get to work. Jin was gonna have his head.
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The first thing that Taehyung had heard when he stepped into the kitchen was Jin’s booming voice screaming at him. “Yah! You’re so lucky you have me as a boss! Not only am I the most handsome boss, I am also benevolent. This is the third time you came late for your shift, you’re lucky I don't just fire you sometime! I know not everyone can be perfect, but really.”
See, if this had been any other day, Taehyung would’ve joked around and said something funny as a reply, but it wasn’t any other day. Taehyung wanted to cry from the headache and this did not help at all. Taehyung contemplated if he could run back home and burrow but decided against it. Life may be a bitch but it won’t make Taehyung it’s bitch today.
Not saying anything besides whispering a soft sorry, Taehyung walked past Jin to the staff room to change into his uniform, leaving Jin shocked at the normally cheerful man’s somber mood.
------------
The day felt as if it would never end. The headache that had never left Taehyung, rather it kept getting worse as time went by but he still pushed on. Jin had asked Taehyung what was wrong when he came out of the staff’s room, but Taehyung had brushed him off without a word earlier.
Now nearing the end of his shift, Taehyung was praying to any deity above to not make this day any worse. The day was already a bad one, from the way it started to how it kept progressing. Someone had spilled their food right in the middle of the restaurant and Taehyung had to clean it up - now that wouldn’t have been so bad if while doing so another colleague of his hadn’t bumped into him and spilled even more food on the floor for Taehyung to clean up. Taehyung could only give the other person a tight lipped smile. He was just one more incident away from screaming, life really was testing him today.
It was proved yet again that life hated him though, because just as he was about to leave to change, a lady had cornered him and demanded to speak to his manager. Taehyung had stared at her in bewilderment, not having noticed her approach him in the first place before he quickly put on his ‘I might seem like I’m extremely happy to serve you, but I’m dying inside’ smile, “Is there something wrong, ma’am?”
“I demand to talk to your manager!” the woman shouted, now starting to attract others’ attention. Tongue flicking out to lick his lips, Taehyung asked, “Ma’am, please calm down. I could try to assist you in any way I can?”
It was clear this woman would not calm down from how she started shouting even louder. Taehyung scrambled to try calm her for the sake of other customers and his headache to no success.
“What’s going on?” Jin strided out of the kitchen at the commotion. The woman whipped towards Jin before speed walking to him, making Jin step back slightly from how aggressively she approached him. “Are you the manager here?” she asked, well, more like demanded.
Jin raised one perfect eyebrow at her, “I’m the owner of this establishment, what’s the matter, ma’am?”
“Your waiter here has been staring at me the wrong way for the last five minutes! Who even hires a snake? They’re evil!”
Taehyung stared at the woman in incredulity. What was she on about? He hadn’t even seen her before she’d rudely approached him! He was literally staring off into space till the- oh. Did she think he was staring at her cause of that? Taehyung almost snorted at the thought of how conceited someone can be.
Jin stared at her with mild amusement, “He was what?”
“Staring at me the wrong way!”
“So not only are you saying that one of my staff members is evil, but also that Kim Taehyung was staring at you the… wrong way?”
“Yes!”
Not being able to hold back anymore, Jin laughed out loud at the absurdity of the woman in front of him. This wasn’t anything new to Jin, these kinds of customers were more common than he would’ve liked to admit. But someone saying Taehyung, the guy who was so in love with his best friend that he wouldn’t spare anyone a glance was ‘staring the wrong way’ at someone, much less a lady, was simply too amusing.
Clearing his throat and composing himself, Jin spoke up, “Ma’am I can assure you our staff would never do that, much less him.”
“Yeah? Well he was! Fire him right this instant or I’m never coming back to this place!” the lady threatened.
Taehyung watched in fascination as Jin, unbothered as ever, pointed at the exit and asked her to ‘leave if you wish to’ without any hesitation, gaze hardening into a glare. The lady flushed in anger and roughly poked at Jin’s chest, exclaiming as she did so, “This isn’t over! I will sue you!” before turning and leaving the place.
The only running through Taehyung’s mind as he watched her leave was how much she reminded him of a chubby little elephant stomping away. He kinda felt bad comparing a magnificent creature like an elephant to whatever hell spawn she was though. “Sorry Hobi hyung, didn’t mean to compare her to you.” He had whispered to himself.
Taehyung waited for Jin to scold him or talk to him, but Jin had just winked at him before returning to the kitchen. He let out a breath of relief before he too left to go finally change out of his uniform and go home, low-key convinced someone had put a curse on him or something.
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Yoongi left the office earlier than he usually would, one of the perks of being the CEO, after getting a call from Jin about Taehyung not feeling the best today. Yoongi had rushed out of his office as soon as it was 5pm to reach home and set about preparing Taehyung’s favourite food and taking out all of his favourite movies, so they could cuddle and watch them.
Yoongi was going to make this day better for Taehyung, no matter what!
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It was 8pm, but there was still no sign of Taehyung; he should’ve been back by 7pm. Yoongi sat on the couch, trying to call Taehyung, but the call never went through.
Yoongi decided to wait five more minutes before he would go out to look for Taehyung. Meanwhile he would go reheat the food to make sure if Taehyung did return by then, he’d get warm food.
Yoongi was about to leave the house when a soaking wet Taehyung walked in. Yoongi gasped in shock and rushed to his side, “Oh my god what happened?! Why are you so wet? Are you okay?”
Taehyung dropped his sopping jacket on the ground and pulled Yoongi in for a hug, hiding his face in Yoongi’s neck, grip tightening. Yoongi hugged Taehyung back, not caring about how he was getting wet, too concerned about the crying man in his arms.
“Baby what happened?” Yoongi asked, running his hand through Taehyung’s hair to calm him down.
“Don’t wanna talk about it,” Taehyung's muffled reply came as he nuzzled closer to Yoongi, desperate for comfort.
Yoongi decided not to say anything, just let Taehyung get it all out. After a while Yoongi had finally decided to step away and send Taehyung away to go freshen up while he would get the food so they could eat it while watching movies.
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Yoongi had just set down the food on the coffee table when he was suddenly grabbed and pulled into a kiss. Yoongi stiffened at first but soon melted into it, hands raising to trace the scattered patches of scales on Taehyung’s body, making him shiver.
Still kissing, Taehyung started backing Yoongi till they reached the couch. Yoongi fell on the couch as Taehyung moved to straddle him. He groaned as he felt Taehyung’s forked tongue lick at his lips, asking for entrance. Parting his lips, the two battled for dominance, Taehyung winning at the end.
After a while, Yoongi moved back to break the kiss - Taehyung chasing after his lips, not wanting to stop - while panting slightly, “W-what about the food?”
Taehyung smirked, his pupils contracting into slits and his fangs showing, “I wanna have dessert first.”
Well then, Yoongi couldn’t say no to that.
#bangtaninn#thebtswritersclub#blackswannet#mxm#yoongi x taehyung#bts yoongi#bts suga#bts taehyung#bts v#bts fluff#hybrid!taehyung#hybrid!au#bts au#taegi au#bts taegi#taegi fluff#bts fanfic
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Sitting Front Row at...(On a Budget Obvs): Lookbook no.15
Hey to anyone reading!
And welcome to my fave lookbook I’ve done in a longggg ass time! Yes, that’s partially because it involved making collages and doing the low effort work of scouring Vogue Runway for “research purposes”, but I promise, that statement wasn’t made out of COMPLETE laziness-I am super happy with it too. It’s been a good use of pre-part-lockdown-lift time in the interim between that brief period of Christmas celebrations and eateries finally fucking opening again because let’s be honest, I always knew I was gonna get distracted by oat milk vanilla lattes and veggie all day breakfasts once I could actually sit down with them at my fave local cafe. You could say I was very much operating on a self-imposed deadline.
The “what I would wear to sit front row at...[insert designer here]” TikTok/Instagram reel trend was something I wanted to get on board with ever since I first saw one and whilst the option of doing my own live action take-I really cannot bear the thought of having to edit footage of myself awkwardly attempting to sit nonchalantly in front of a camera for hours on end-was off the cards considering my complete lack of screen presence, I decided a Tumblr text post would work just as well, and if not even better in a way. Given the absence of the time limitations you face when you’re making a reel or a TikTok I thought it’d be cool to present the looks as part of a mini moodboard for each designer which adds a bit of context to each look even if you aren’t familiar with their past collections and establishes the general vibe of the brand I’m attempting to replicate. Not to sound snotty or as if I am the font of all knowledge on anything high fashion related but even with my amateur knowledge I noticed that as the video trend took off and was adopted by big name influencers, it became less about the average person putting their own personal spin on the aesthetic of the labels we can’t ordinarily afford and more about them building outfits that only vaguely resemble the general public perception of the brand around the real corresponding (and often gifted and thus inaccessible to someone who doesn’t makes thousands for a sponsored post) pieces they own SO I thought I’d take the trend back to its roots and get a bit resourceful. All that being said, in no particular order, here are the outfits I would wear to sit front row at Gucci, Vera Wang, Miu-Miu, Marc Jacobs, Dolce & Gabbana, Brock Collection, Alexander McQueen, Etro, Burberry aaaand Saint Laurent based on their past collections and guess what? They didn’t cost a shit tonne of money :-)
-disclaimer: will include an asterisk before any new purchases if from a high street store though to be honest, I don’t think there are any, we shall see! I do include where I got old purchases from in case anyone wants to search anything on Depop/Ebay-
1. Saint Laurent (formerly Yves Saint Laurent)
-blazer from identityparty on Depop, pleather trousers from Zara, jewellery from Dolls Kill-
I know technically abbreviating Saint Laurent to YSL doesn’t really make much sense anymore given the brand’s name change in 2012, but I’ll always think of it as that in the same way I’ll always associate it with the slightly dishevelled yet simultaneously glitzy rock n’ roll aesthetic. The thing is, whilst YSL hasn’t done anything wildly out of the box for a long time, it’s rare they put a look on the runway that I wouldn’t wear; they never end up being a fashion week standout but the Parisienne take on grunge we’ve seen Anthony Vaccarello establish as his go-to will always have a place in my heart.
2. Alexander McQueen
-embroidered leather jacket from Ebay (originally Topshop), harness from Amazon, dress from ASOS, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-
Alexander McQueen is a brand that is pretty much universally liked, from the historically extravagant and groundbreaking shows the man himself put together to Sarah Burton’s more toned down but still beautiful collections. Obviously I didn’t attempt to do justice to the former, so I tried my hand at putting together a look inspired by Sarah’s blend of delicate femininity and nomadic edge, and it went...okay? Like it’s definitely not my favourite of all the looks because it does give off slightly cheap copycat vibes buuut outside of the context of this lookbook it’s cute.
3. Brock Collection
-boater hat from Ebay, midi skirt from morganogle on Depop, corset top from ownmode_, heels from amybeckett1, bag from Primark-
Brock isn’t as well known a brand as most of the others in this list but I adore everything Laura Vassar Brock does and I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to try and channel the vision of one of the OG pioneers of the cottagecore vibe through my own wardrobe. I mean fr, this woman’s work as a steady provider of meadow photoshoot worthy dresses and corsets and skirts is v slept on and I will not stand for it. I will sit in front of a camera and then write a paragraph in my blog post begging anybody who reads to give LVB (an abbreviation I acknowledge is unlikely to catch on because Lisa Vanderpump anybody?) some form of acknowledgement for her services to period romance novel inspired moodboards everywhere.
4. Marc Jacobs
-coat from House of Sunny, white shirt from Retro World Camden, co-ord from Sugar Thrillz, bag from Poppy Lissiman-
If there’s one thing Marc Jacobs always does, it’s COMMITS. TO. HIS. THEME. I just KNOW he has a secret Pinterest with separate boards for every fashion era of the 20th century and he is putting those boards to good use providing us with collections that are as immersive as they are eclectic year in year out.
5. Miu Miu
-beret from H&M, hair clips from H&M, jewellery from Primark, coat from mollyyemmaa on Depop, shirt from YesStyle, sweater vest from YesStyle, skirt from Depop, diamanté belt from Brandy Melville, shoes from Koi Vegan Footwear-
We all like to talk about Bratz dolls and Monster High dolls and Barbies as fashion inspo but can we all focus on Cabbage Patch dolls for two secs so as to acknowledge the fact that a Miu Miu collection is basically all their fits grown up? And made boujie as fuck? If I want my fix of Wes Anderson meets Scream Queens (what a combo) inspired outfits, if I want prissy and girlish but also glam, if I want to look like a bratty rich girl whose one redeeming quality is her eye for vintage clothes, I know where to look and that is the Miu Miu section of Vogue Runway.
6. Vera Wang
-blazer as in no.1, velvet bralet from catdegaris on Depop, harness from Amazon, skirt from Ebay, knee high socks from Ebay, lace up boots from Ebay-
Vera Wang’s RTW aesthetic, a blend of the ethereal, ultra-feminine bridal designs she’s known for and British style punk rock influences, is something I feel has only become firmly established in recent years but it is everything I ever wanted and more. I always find myself trying to balance the part of me that loves everything girly and delicate and pretty and the part of me that would love to be in a biker gang and Vera’s collections are always an inspirational reminder of just how well it can be done.
7. Burberry
-coat from charity shop, suit from emmafisher3 on Depop, top from simranindia, shirt underneath from Zara, jewellery from ASOS-
Now I’m not gonna lie, I’m not the biggest fan of Burberry but there have been a few looks over the past few years I’ve really liked and as someone who owns numerous trench coats, high necks and way too much plaid, I thought it’d be an easy one to replicate. Plus, if you can count on Riccardo Tisci for nothing else you at least can rely on him giving you some layering inspo which is very much needed in a country where it literally just snowed in April and where my plans for today have just been cancelled because the iPhone weather app did a Karen Smith and didn’t predict rain for today right up until it started raining so thanks for that one British meteorologists. Your incompetence strikes again.
8. Etro
-corset from Urban Outfitters, vinyl trench coat from Topshop, boots from Ebay, black slip dress from kaoanaoleinik on Depop, fur trim afghan coat from louisemarcella-
Like with Brock Collection, Etro isn’t a hugely well known brand, but it is always one of my favourites-to add a spanner into the works of any attempts to cultivate a firm sense of personal style, I live for the ornate Bohemian look that Etro does so well just as much as I love both grungy and girly pieces, and so I really wanted to include a brand whose collections go down that route. It was a toss-up between this and Zimmerman, the flirtier, free spirit counterpart to the dark romance of Veronica Etro’s designs; her vision really shines through the most when it comes to the brand’s winter collections, imo, and given that I live in a country where winter or some weather state resembling it does seem to take up 70% of the year, I did decide on channelling her work rather than that of the equally talented Nicky and Simone Zimmermann this time round.
9. Dolce & Gabbana
-flower crown from ASOS, tiara from Amazon, earrings from YesStyle, dress from alicealderdice1 on Depop, opera gloves from Ebay, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-
D&G is a brand I felt really conflicted about doing-I don’t include their current collections in my fashion week reviews based on the actions of designers Stefano Gabbana and Domenico Dolce over the last few years because I don’t want to mitigate the collective effort of fashion critics to push them towards irrelevancy. Though people like to claim the brand has turned a corner since Lucio Di Rosa was brought on board as the manager of celebrity and VIP relations last year (they are as prolific a force on red carpet fashion as ever), we haven’t seen any real meaningful apologies or reparations made by Dolce and Gabbana themselves which once again leaves us in the all too familiar quandary of whether or not we can separate the art from the artist especially when it is far too much of a simplification to only credit the two men for their work given there’s a whole design team behind them. There are a LOT of shitty people working in fashion, the whole industry is a bit of a cesspit if we’re honest, but I don’t think that should stop us from at least being able to appreciate old collections if we make sure we aren’t engaging in any kind of promotion of current works whilst doing so. D&G are a brand of high highs and low lows, with looks that range from hideously ugly to showstoppingly beautiful in a single show-when the looks are good, they are GOOD-and their presence in the fashion world is most definitely felt whether we want it to be or not. It would just be shit to refuse to recognise the existence of some real iconic runway moments, the practical work that went into the ornate detail and opulence that helped cement D&Gs place in sartorial history, the styling that’s made goddesses and fairytale queens out of modern day women as they’ve glided down catwalks, the far more extravagant and, let’s be real, sexier version of our world D&G shows have transported us to in the past. Will I talk about D&G ever again? No, and if you Google the scandals their brand has faced over the past few years, there are more than enough reasons why, but just this once I did want to pay homage to some of the collections, the snippets of which I saw on my Tumblr dashboard back when I was about 13, that first got me into fashion.
10. Gucci
-fur coat from Topshop, clips from Zaful, glasses from Ebay, dress from gracewright246 on Depop, shirt from Boohoo, blazer from charity shop-
Now last but, if you ever read any of my fashion week reviews (the likelihood of someone actually having read one of them and reading this is incredibly, incredibly slim lol, I wouldn’t read me either) you’ll know, definitely not least, is Gucci because Alessandro Michele comes through every!! single!! time!!
The man is truly the king of quirky throwback maximalism and it hurts my heart that a lot of people seem to think of it only as a brand associated with ostentatious displays of wealth. Year after year since Michele was made creative director he has released purposeful, fully-fleshed out collections which unravel themselves to us on the runway like time capsules containing the belongings of the rich and whimsical and yes that can sometimes result in outfits which are *ahem* a bit mismatched but it doesn’t matter because through fashion he manages to take us to a vivid version of the past where people could dress as freely and lavishly as they wanted to, into the wardrobe of a person unaffected by the side-eyeing of others. You get the impression he doesn’t design so much as plays around with some kind of enchanted dress up box and takes inspiration from there and to give that impression is only a credit to his talent-to make outfits so kooky and extravagant look like they were meant to be takes a boldness and genuine love for clothes that I do tend to feel a lot of the big name designers have lost in the pursuit of profit and the necessary placating of the dying customer base that keeps that coming in. Of course I'm not for a second saying Gucci does not care about profit, but at the very least, they have on board a creative director who genuinely has fun with what they’re putting out there and wants to make a statement too and that really shows; you can rest on your laurels and sell tweed boucle jackets to rich old white women for eternity but nobody’s going to mention your brand name and the word groundbreaking in the same sentence ever again unless they’re talking about what it was a century ago, you know (mentioning no names...unless...did I hear someone say Chanel)? That feels like such a shady way to end, lol, but I’m sure said brand will survive-to be fair, they’ve been included in every other What I’d Wear to Sit Front Row At video I’ve seen so although I’m always slagging them off for doing the saaaaame thinggggg year after year, for that same reason their aesthetic is instantly recognisable and so will always be a source of imitation. There are obviously pros and cons to being a brand which constantly reinvents itself but I think it’s totally possible to do that whilst maintaining an overall mission, and Alessandro Michele’s work at Gucci demonstrates that with ease.
Anyway, if you got to here, thanks for reading! I know I’m super behind on this whole TikTok trend and I know a Tumblr post instead of a video is a bit of a cop out but all the real, physically awkward ones out there know that watching yourself back is excruciating lmao, so I hope this does the trick. After this, I’m gonna get back to the reviewing S/S21 collections post though knowing me I’ll probs take a few days to get back into that because I feel like since I left full-time education (RIP me going back in a few months) writing continuously like this for any longer than about 15 mins fries what brain cells I have left. Again, thank you for reading and if you are, sending many good vibes your way! Stay safe!
Lauren x
#front row#frontrow#fashion#fashioninpo#fashion inspo#style#style inspo#designer#gucci#vera wang#burberry#label#miu miu#runway#fashion week#mood board#ysl#saint laurent#runway trends#ss21#lookbook#vintage#outfit#marc jacobs#Alexander mcqueen#runway fashion#high fashion#haute couture#trend#collage
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youtube
transcript of “where I've been”
TW for discussion of cancer and Covid-19
Here’s the Google Doc link or you can click on the read more.
Techno: Yo, Technoblade here with another upload, oh my God I can’t believe it. We’re back, we’re playing Bedwars, uh, I don’t know why I said that in the present tense because I actually recorded these Bedwars games a few days ago. I have- I’ve played like, almost no Bedwars since the win streak, which was like, I dunno, years ago - so, you know, forgive me if I’m a little rusty. These are literally just the first three games of Bedwars I played, recorded them, and then just threw them in this background footage because, you know, I like live commentaries a lot, but I feel like sometimes, when you have a topic to talk about, having to play a video game simultaneously can sorta- it can sorta detract from the commentary, you know?
But before that: a plushie commercial filmed on my iPhone.
We got the first one - it’s Technoblade. He’s in a flying pose. He’s flying to save some civilians or he’s falling flat on his face. Depends on who you ask. Alright. We got the- We got Technoblade. He’s sitting down. He’s- He’s seated. He’s seated. It’s incredibly exciting. Uh, we got- we got Technoblade but he’s- he’s a giant- he’s a gigantic pillow. It’s Technopillow. This is actually- This is actually really- This is really soft. You’re gonna have to take my word for it.
These plushies go on sale on September 3rd at 3 PM EST at youtooz.com. The last ones sold out in around eight hours, so be prepared. I mean, one of them was like, two minutes but ehhh, it’s not happening again.
So where has Technoblade been? I know I’ve been gone since like, June. I was actually being really productive in July, which I know you guys are gonna- You’re not gonna believe me when I say that because I made no content. But I was! I was, you gotta believe me, okay? I was getting so much work done IRL; I was like, filling out paperwork, making business moves, working on merchandise, buying new equipment to make new videos. ‘Cause I really wanted- I really wanted to increase the rate at which I was making videos, ‘cause I kinda spent- You know, I kinda spent like, all this time becoming a famous YouTube and then instantly like, stopped uploading. Which, I mean, to be fair, I guess that started more in like 2018. So, that’s more just a pattern now.
But I figured, you know, this whole thing where I go two- you know, one or two months without uploading- I don’t want that to be me, man. I wanna be uploading at least once per week. So I spent a lot of time preparing to do that. And the plan was that I would start doing that in August, but I took a- It didn’t- It’s, uh- It’s not going great, I’m not going to lie to you.
So in the last two days of July I noticed that my right arm was starting to hurt a decent amount and I thought- My best guess was that it was some kind of repetitive stress injury, ‘cause you know I’ve been playing video games since the age of like, five. It’s pretty much nonstop. I was gonna get carpal tunnel at some point but, uh, I took a few days to rest my arm and it really didn’t… really didn’t feel any better after that. And so after a few days of that, I looked at myself in the mirror and I noticed that my right shoulder was starting to swell like crazy and I was like, “Oh my God! I must’ve broken a bone, this is-” I mean, this- It looked- it looked crazy.
So, you know, the next day - August 2nd - I, uh, headed over to the doctor to see what was wrong and uh, they ran a couple of scans and then they came back and they told me that, uh, the reason my arm hurts is because I have cancer.
That really couldn’t have gone worse, I don’t think. I feel a bit silly talking about this with, uh, Minecraft in the background; it feels a bit out of place. But I’m a Minecraft YouTuber - I don’t- I don’t do a face cam. Which is I guess how most people would talk about serious things, with a face cam. I also probably, uh- *chuckles* Also probably a bit weird to plug my merchandise in the- in the same video, like, “Hey, guys, I have a- I have a terrible disease, also buy my plushies, bro.” But uh- *laughs* Listen: I’ve been waiting so many months to sell those plushies, bro. And it keeps getting delayed and now cancer thinks it can stop me. No no no no no. I’m trying to make some bank, bro. I wanna get paid, also they look fantastic, I mean just look at them, they look incredible. Alright?
I mean, I guess it would be ideal to like, split up the announcements, but I’m going back into chemotherapy next week; I don’t got time for this, man. We gotta go!
To be fair, I could make this a lot weirder; I could have like, the thumbnail be a giant red arrow pointing to my tumor with the caption “Might die! Not clickbait!” *laughs* Yeah, just the ultimate- the ultimate YouTuber, bro. We’re clickbaiting the whole process.
So after the scans come in, I get transferred to another hospital which has an oncology award, so it’s a lot more specialized towards what I need. And I’m sorta like sitting there in the bed for a couple of days like, “Hello. Could I please get some healthcare? Could I- Could I just get a- Could I just get a crumb of healthcare? Please! Like, I *stutters* I wanna see people sprinting, you know? I feel like I want to see some urgency, you know? If you guys gotta- *stammers* You know, there’s like, this tumor on my arm - if you guys could just- if you guys could just get rid of it. Just get rid of it right now! Could we just go? If you gotta cut off my arm, cut off my arm, bro - do what you gotta do. I won’t complain, man, I’ve won enough Minecraft tournaments. I’ll just play Minecraft with my feet from here on out, bro. I’ll still be B tier at least, okay? It’s fine. Do what you gotta do.”
But then the doctors are telling me, “Oh, well, we can’t- we can’t do it immediately. We gotta- We gotta find out what it is, we gotta run some tests, do a biopsy.” I’m like, “Okay, do the biopsy.” Like, “Oh, well first we gotta do some scans.” I’m like, “Alright, dude, the scans.” And so it took a couple of days and then they did a biopsy, uh, three days later. And then I was like, “Alright. Let’s go!” And they were like, “Oh, well, the biopsy is gonna take like, a week or more to get back.” And I’m just sitting here like, “Bruh, please. Please, just treat me.”
I mean, it makes sense. It makes a lot of sense and I’m sure they know what they’re doing, but I’m just sitting there in the hospital like, “Please. Please, healthcare.” So they get the biopsy and they send me home and they’re saying like, I’ll come back in like a week or so when they have a treatment plan prepared, and so I- It was a very fun week at home ‘cause I was sitting there still not getting treated and I was just like, looking at my tumor like, “Alright, Mr. Tumor. You know, you need me to survive so it’s in your best interest to just- to just chill out for a little bit, you know? We don’t wanna go too crazy.”
And faintly- Faintly if you strain your ears, underneath my skin you can hear:
[Dream’s speedrun music plays for a few seconds]
Techno: Yeah, it was a really fun week. But I did finally get started on chemotherapy, which is a wonderful process. Let me explain chemotherapy. So basically uh, you know how society has progressed for thousands of years of technological and medical innovation? So basically, one of the top three ways we have to fight cancer is uh, for you to go to the hospital and then they uh, plug you into a machine and then they inject poison directly into your veins for several days. That’s uh, that’s one of the best ways we’ve got of going about this and the poison- it’s supposed to kill the cancer - it uh, also kills things like, you know, blood. But ehhh, does anybody really need blood? I feel like it’s pretty optional, you know? Uh- *small laugh* Blood for the Blood God as it were, alright? Uh, I’ll take what I can get.
I, uh, you know, I used to have a channel meme- ‘cause back in the day- you know how my motivation always goes up and down in, like, cycles? I used to have a meme where whenever I’d get super motivated I’d, ya know, I’d start uploading, like crazy. I’d also do things like get a haircut. And, so, I joked that, uh, the less hair I had, the more I’d upload. ‘Cause that’s- the hair was holding me back. And so, if that’s still true, I gotta say, chemotherapy, that’s gotta be daily uploads or something, bro. *laughs* It’s gonna be- Chemotherapy Arc is gonna be fantastic for content.
Well, ya know, after I got diagnosed, I, uh, I’ve been making a lot of phone calls- ya know, informing all of my distant family members about the situation- and, I gotta say, of all the phone calls I’ve made, nobody took the news worse than my health insurance provider. They’ve been inconsolable for weeks. They were like, “You got what!? No!”
I mean, I had no idea they cared so much. They’ve just- oh my God. I- I think they’re the real victims of this. I mean, could you imagine? Could you imagine? Like, look at me! I was a healthy twenty-two year old, I, like, barely went to the doctor, even for, like, regular appointments. I- I guess I went to the dentist, that’s the one thing I did. I was the freest paycheck they’ve ever seen in their lives. They could’ve been milking money off of me for decades. And then, bam, cancer, bro. *laughs* Oh, those poor guys.
Uh, the one- the one favor I- I do wanna ask- If you guys could all do one small favor for Technoblade- uh, you know that coronavirus thing you been hearing in the news for the last couple of years? Uh, I want you guys to get rid of it. Just, uh, I want it gone. Just a couple days should be sufficient for you guys to do that.
No, but, seriously. I’m kind of, uh, immunocompromised right now, which means, uh, if a bacteria touches me or, like, a virus touches me, I will explode. So, yeah, uh, I wanna- get the vaccine, is what I’m saying.
I’m gonna get cancelled by the anti-vaxxers for saying it, but it’s such a good vaccine, bro. Pfizer got full FDA approval, this week, for people aged sixteen and up. I think you- you can also get it if you’re eleven to fifteen if you’ve got emergency approval or whatever. Uh, I mean, if you have any concerns, don’t listen to a Minecraft YouTuber, but, please, at least talk to a doctor. Because it’s- it’s so good bro. It’s so good.
The hospitals are currently getting flooded by unvaccinated people. I’m gonna go ahead and speak on behalf of all cancer patients when I say that it is incredibly annoying when the- when the hospitals are getting overworked by people dying of preventable diseases. I’m just saying- we got dibs on those hospital beds. So, ya know, you- you probably don’t- you don’t even want them really. You don’t even want to need them. So, I think the vaccine… what is it? It, like, reduces the chances of you needing hospitalization from Covid by, like, ninety-six percent? I mean, it’s so effective, bro! Come on! I mean, you might still get, like… I mean, you could still catch coronavirus, but, like, the symptoms are gonna be so much milder, bro, I’m just saying. Think about it. Think about it. Talk to a doctor.
I remember when I first went in for chemotherapy, A: I was thrilled, ‘cause, like, yo! Healthcare! Inject it into my veins, bro! Let’s go! But, also, like, the first couple of days were actually pretty chill. I was like, ‘Dang! This is easy, bro!’. And then it kicked in. And then it kicked in. My energy levels were zero; they were absolutely nothing. It’s hard to describe how tired I was, but I think my one example is- so they let me go back home. And after several days of resting, I had a virtual appointment with a doctor. And, so, they were, like, ‘Alright’. And I was just sitting there, like, ‘Wait a second. You guys want me to sit upright in a chair for an hour? What is this, the Olympics, bro? I’m going back to bed! What? What?’ *laughs* ‘Wha? Let’s calm down here. Sitting in a chair? Am I Superman? Like, come one, bro.’
As you can probably tell, I’m feeling a lot better right now. Which is, uh, I think that’s part of the process, is, uh, you get a little bit of recovery time to, uh, ya know, eat a lot of really good food- get the weight back- and get ready for the next round.
And, uh, before we go back for the next round, I’m gonna be playing a lot of video games, uh, making some content, seeing if I can get some more videos prepared, because, uh- I know people are gonna be like, ‘No! Technoblade! You don’t need to make videos for us! Please rest!’
Nah, this isn’t about you, bro. This is about me. I enjoy this, man. This is, like, one of the safest and most fun things I could be doing right now, bro, I’m gonna do it. I don’t know how much content I could make, ‘cause I’m kinda slow, but we’ll see. We’ll see.
I already have a video prepared for next week, uh, September third. You guys are gonna love it. It’s, uh, it was actually- it’s kind of, kind of an old video. It was, uh, from a few months ago, but it’s very good. So, yeah! You guys have that to look forward to.
And, for the record, I know I’ve been complaining a lot in this video, but I just wanna clarify that the doctors I have are, like, insanely good, bro. I’m gonna be getting some of the finest healthcare in the world, so don’t worry about me too much.
I think the treatment has already started to show some results. I- I mean, it’s been so short of a time, so the results aren’t gonna be insane or anything, but, at the very least, the speedrun music has stopped playing.
So, yeah, that’s where I’ve been and that’s what I’m gonna be doing for the foreseeable future. Wish me luck, and, uh, wear a mask, I guess. Ya know, standard coronavirus procedures. All that coronavirus stuff and like, getting vaccinated - that goes double for Californians, okay? But it helps everywhere.
Uh, that’s all I’ve got for today. See you guys next time!
#transcribed#technoblade#video#bedwars#mod parker#mod garlic#cancer tw#medical tw#needles tw#(he talks about getting vaccinated)
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Winter Heat || Baekhyun
♢ SUMMARY: Whilst the one you like couldn’t care less about you, the one who likes YOU makes sure to let you know that he will always run to you. No matter if your life is even more of a mess than it already was.
Feat. Jongin
♢ GENRE: Heiress!AU, Art Museum!AU, Bad Boy!AU, Fluff, Slight Angst
♢ WORD COUNT: 5.7k
Masterlist
„Why aren’t you replying.”
You’ve been looking mindlessly at the immobile screen of your iPhone, not caring about any bypassers who could hear you talking to yourself.
It’s been almost a whole twenty minutes since you’ve sent a direct message to Jongin, asking if he was done with his work at the Museum for today.
It wouldn’t be so frustrating to you that he didn’t reply yet, if not the big SEEN mark underneath your text.
Was he ignoring you?
You would never know if you didn’t ask, but despite you being probably the most straightforward and unfiltered person walking on the globe, given that you were also always the one to initiate conversations, with time you started to feel like you were bothering him.
Even if he never, ever, gave you any direct answer which would significate that you were, in fact, being annoying and bothering him, you were getting that feeling always more often around him every time you tried to talk to him.
And if you were being completely honest, you didn’t like it.
Even more to it, you hated that feeling.
For as long as you could remember, you developed the biggest crush you’ve ever had in your whole life on Jongin, starting to like him almost right away at the first encounter.
Looking back now and recalling how genuinely happy you were when the two of you actually became friends, you would have never thought that you would go back to being practical strangers again.
It hurt you, but unfortunately truth to be told, your life has played you countless times throughout the twenty years you’ve been walking on this planet, so as gloomy as it sounded you weren’t that surprised.
Disappointed but not surprised, by now should be very much replacing your second name.
You exhaled deeply, your warm breath forming a little white cloud in the cold winter air.
You were very well aware that if you still wanted to come as that „independent woman of success” which for some reason people always thought you were, you needed to quit caring about the boy who cared about everything else but you.
Judging by all the recent events which happened, actually you had all the reasons to despise him, not a single one to still like him as much as you did.
You fixed your black hat on your head, flipping your soft hair back. You earned some looks in awe from people walking past you, giving them only as much as a quick glance of your light luminous eyes.
Even though you were dressed in an all black outfit, you still looked so light and ethereal, your aura making people turn their heads as you did only as much as walk by.
You slid your hand into the pocket of your black long coat, finding your phone and taking it out to throw yet another quick glance at the screen.
Still no reply from Jongin.
You slid it back almost immediately, letting out a low groan of frustration as you plopped on the nearest bench next to a, now obviously not blossoming, cherry tree.
„Woah, impressive. I wouldn’t think that girls can drop their voice to that extent.” Said a warm voice.
You abruptly turned around to where the unexpected voice came from, a little alert, but calming down as soon as you were met with a familiar face.
To your view came a boy with pale cheeks and dark chocolate brown eyes which were looking at you from underneath his fluffy bleached bangs, gently falling back on them every time he shook them off.
Despite it being a really chilly winter day, he was wearing a black leather jacket and a pair of, who would have thought, black snickers.
You wrapped your own warm coat tighter around your body, being left a little amazed how he seemed to be completely unaffected by the cold wind which was now blowing directly in his face, causing his bleached bangs to fly up whilst you were already shivering when the winter wind did as much as lightly hit your soft cheek.
„My apologies, I suppose it wasn’t very ladylike.” You said in your distinguished tone.
„Why, I wouldn’t say that” The boy said. „Everything you do is ladylike because you’re a lady.” He added with a genuine smile.
„Well” You said, looking at him and gesturing to the empty space on the bench next to you. „You can take a seat. Baekhyun.”
You watched as his face lit up immediately when you said that, following with him plopping down on the wooden bench without hesitation.
„You remember my name?” He asked.
„Of course I do” You answered. „It would be difficult not to, given that your friends always scream your name when you are all going crazy on your motorcycles in front of the Art Museum.”
Baekhyun let out a light laugh. You only gave him a weak smile in response, your attention drawn back to your phone which you absentmindedly took out of your pocket again.
It was no use waiting anymore, was it?
Jongin wasn’t going to reply to you, not now, and not later.
You asked yourself how foolish you actually were, letting someone who didn’t give a care about you occupy your whole heart like that.
Your expression must have looked really pained, because soon you felt a gentle nudge to your side. „Are you alright?”
You slowly brought your attention back to the boy sitting beside you, being met with his concerned chocolate eyes.
„Why, yes” You said. „Just reflecting on some stuff.”
„Waiting for some important message?”
„Not really.”
„Really?”
„No.”
„I’m listening.”
You let out a deep sigh. „Do you actually want to hear my sob story?” You asked with a slight disbelief.
„I want to hear whatever that’s been weighing on your heart if it makes you feel better again.” Baekhyun pushed his hair back, uselessly, because the loose locks kept stubbornly falling back on his eyes.
„So” You started. „There is someone I like, even though I should have stopped a long time ago, and lately he’s been becoming always more distant and unavailable. I don’t know why he’s acting like that because at the beginning it looked like he genuinely cared. Well, guess not.” You concluded, tapping on your phone still in your right hand.
Baekhyun managed to do only as much as open and close his mouth like a goldfish before you interrupted him and started talking again. „And the thing is, I’m literally being delusional. I’m a total fool. I know that it’s useless liking him but I don’t do anything to prevent myself from immersing even deeper into this, and I’m aware that in the long run it’s not healthy clinging onto these feelings only because you’ve developed a hopeless crush on someone who doesn’t give a damn about you.” You said, looking over at Baekhyun who was watching you with wide eyes.
You started to feel a little embarrassed for letting your feelings out like that in front of him, given that the two of you weren’t even so close. „Awe, I apologize for rambling on like that.” You quickly added.
„Don’t.” Baekhyun said softly. „I know that feeling when your crush doesn’t notice you, no matter what you do.” He said the last sentence much quieter, but still loud enough for you to hear his words correctly.
„Um-”
„Do you have anything to do in the Museum later today?” He asked quickly.
„Why, no, actually.” You answered. „They said I won’t be needed anymore today.”
„I actually always thought you were the boss there.”
„I wish I was. My family’s owned this Art Museum forever, but like everyone knows, they aren’t alive anymore and I was left a literal orphan and the last rightful heir when I was still a child, so their business partners have been running it ever since.” You explained. „Looks like they want to take the whole damned heirloom away from me, too.” You let out a tired laugh. „Sucks to be me.”
„Don’t say that.” Baekhyun straightened immediately, looking at you. „Be kind to yourself. You need to realize how wonderful and crazy intelligent you are, that’s probably exactly what they fear if they’re pulling something as cheap as that, please.”
You failed to hold back a chuckle which soon transformed into a genuine loud laugh.
You laughed as if there wasn’t a single care in the world, covering your red lips with your hand. „Something as cheap?” You said through the laughter.
Baekhyun looked completely flabbergasted by you laughing like that out of nowhere, but smiled at you fondly. „Well, yes, that’s... cheap.”
You couldn’t remember when was the last time you genuinely laughed like that until your stomach started to hurt, but you weren’t mad about it. Even the opposite.
„God, I wish I could always be as carefree as that.” You said after you finally calmed down, yet still little chuckles slipping out. „Even if it was just for one day or one night. I massively need to clear my mind.
„That’s doable.” Baekhyun said. „Since you’ve said that you’re free today, do you want to go somewhere with me?” He asked a little shyly, hope audible in his smooth voice.
„Anywhere away from all those exhausting people will be great.” You said, slightly surprised by your own immediate agreement.
You watched as Baekhyun’s face lit up once again, just like a little boy when he gets the gift he was dreaming of.
„I think I know a place like this.”
When you arrived at your destination, you didn’t even know what you were expecting, but you knew that you weren’t expecting THIS.
You ended up struggling a little to get off of Baekhyun’s motorcycle, almost tangling yourself in your long coat but finally standing on the firm ground feeling your legs still wobbling slightly.
„You seriously just took me to the old airport.” You said, looking around with a visible question in your eyes.
The old airport was located outside the city, the enormous building still in a perfectly presentable state, yet they decided to close it down and build a new airport on the opposite side of the entire city.
The atmosphere there now was just as if the time had stopped, complete silence filling the air and the open space around you.
Baekhyun only flashed you a dazzling smile. „Come to think of it, since nobody’s here anyway that makes it a perfect spot to go on full speed where the airplanes used to take off and land.” He said, running his fingers through his hair and standing right next to you.
You scrunched your nose, looking at him. „But since this is a closed area, is this even legal?”
„Well, it isn’t illegal as long as nobody snitches.” He answered, giving you another, even brighter smile.
You’ve never seen anyone who smiled so often.
You looked back at the bike standing right behind the two of you.
„So, full speed huh? I actually wanna see it.” You said.
„What, are you doubting my amazing driving skills?” He asked jokingly, but turned around and got back on.
Not even a minute later the sound of a starting engine rang in your ears. You stepped aside, watching as Baekhyun effortlessly threw the helmet back on, so naturally as if it was already a part of him.
You couldn’t see his face through the dark cover, but you imagined he must’ve been smiling like crazy.
Like he always did.
The motorcycle dashed past you, the blow of the wind it created so strong that you had to hold onto your hat to prevent it from flying off of the top of your head.
You observed as his figure started becoming always smaller and smaller in the distance, soon appearing merely as a silhouette drifting away.
You looked up, taking in the sight of the already darkish sky and breathing in the winter air.
People saying that empty airports had a peculiar aura to them were right, you thought, it indeed felt just as if the time had stopped in this place, nothing but a large and empty open space and silence being the only companion.
Well, right in that moment not the only one, given that soon you heard the sound of a motorcycle coming always closer.
You didn’t know how far Baekhyun did go in the end, but he surely was incredibly fast.
Soon he was standing beside you again, running his fingers through his hair and smiling contentedly.
Figures.
„You look extremely happy.” You observed.
„Well, you could say that this-” He pointed to his bike. „Gives me some kind of particular comfort every time.”
„You mean like, finding solace in racing with the wind ahead?” You said.
Baekhyun paused for a brief moment, looking at you with sparkling eyes. „I was going to say that it never fails to cheer me up, but your words sound much better. So... poetic.” He said. „Where did you learn that?”
You chuckled at his amazed expression. „Awe, don’t exaggerate. I simply enjoy literature. We have a lot of old books and poems in the Museum, so I like to spend my time with them while I’m there.” You answered. „Speaking of, I need to be there tomorrow morning, that’s one thing I forgot about. Apparently Mrs Cha has some announcement to make.” You took a look at your phone, checking the time.
The way to the airport took indeed really long, and given that tomorrow you needed to be awake and presentable you figured that it would be best to go back to the city now.
But strangely, as you looked at Baekhyun next to you, the thought of returning to your little mess which awaited you there started to come off as always more dreadful to you.
As you looked at the careless boy next to you, you realized that you, in fact, envied him.
He appeared so carefree, uncomplicated, and happy.
And with every minute you’ve spent in his company, you’ve come to want to be just like him always more.
You ran up the stairs to the main entrance to the Museum, catching your breath.
You were a whole ten minutes late, but you highly doubted that anyone would have really noticed or, better said, you doubted that anyone would have even cared.
You pushed the heavy glass door open, entering the big hall and directing yourself straight to the main office.
The only sound audible was the clacking of your heels on the black and white cold floor.
The Museum had always been so peaceful and silent at this hour before opening, but right now it very much reminded you of your previous evening with Baekhyun at the old empty airport.
You asked yourself how come you never properly talked to him before yesterday, given that he always was somewhere near the Museum, every single day.
But then again, knowing how blinded you were by your hopeless crush, it wasn’t a wonder that you weren’t noticing at least half the things happening around you.
You smiled at the thought of Baekhyun dropping you home the night before, taking the opportunity to give you his number too, as he said, for when you felt like you needed to clear your mind again.
With your head in the clouds, you almost didn’t notice the person approaching from the opposite direction, nearly bumping into them.
„Oh” You said as you saw who was in front of you. „Good morning Jongin.”
The said boy only looked up once he heard his name. „Oh, um, good morning to you too.” He said without any emotion, as if a brief interaction with you alone was too much unnecessary effort for him.
Well, figures, you thought to yourself.
Before you could add anything else, he quickly walked away without giving you any other glance.
Well again, FIGURES, as obvious as it was to you until now.
Trying to take your mind elsewhere from the unpleasant feeling of being visibly ignored as if you were nothing, you fastened your pace and by the end of the corridor you almost ran into the office.
As soon as you closed the wooden door behind you, you heard a familiar female voice. „Oh, good morning Y/N. Take a seat.”
„Good morning, Mrs Cha.” You answered politely, taking off your black hat and sitting in front of her desk. „You wished to speak with me?”
„Yes, I have something important to announce to you.” She said. „As you may know, I will retire very soon. I have been the CEO of this Art Museum since your parents passed away, so with me leaving my position the Museum will obviously need a new one.”
You widened your eyes at what you just heard.
Did it mean that the Museum will FINALLY officially and rightfully belong to you? That must be the reason why she called you in so early to announce these news, right?
Right...?
„So, are you telling me that I’m-”
„Jongin will take over as the new CEO of the Art Museum.”
What?
You felt something shattering in your chest, your vision suddenly becoming peculiarly blurry.
„Wh-what do you mean Jongin will take over the Museum???” You almost choked on your own breath.
„I mean exactly what I just said. The Museum will function under Jongin when I take my leave.”
You just sat there with your mouth open, not being able to even proceed the information which had been revealed to you.
At first you felt literal heartbreak, but not a long moment later it had been replaced by pure rage.
„No, no, no, no, NO.” You repeated over and over again, standing up. „No. First of all, you are in no position to simply give the whole Museum to Jongin, because this is exactly what you’re trying to do. Second of all, HE himself is in no position to out of nowhere take over the whole Museum. And third of all-” Without thinking, you slammed your fist onto the wooden surface of the desk, making Mrs Cha flinch and giving you a wide eyed look. „You should have given me that position as soon as I turned eighteen years old. Which was when? Two years ago! So what in the WORLD are you talking about NOW?” You slammed your other fist onto the desk, feeling your blood boiling inside your veins.
„Y/N, listen.” Mrs Cha started. „You were too young to manage something as big and known as this Museum. Besides, I think that Jongin is the best fit for this-”
„NO!” You felt as if you were about to explode any time now. Who did this woman think she was? And WHO did Jongin think he was? Did he even know about all of this? Probably, yes. „Listen carefully now. This is not just an Art Museum. This is my family’s heirloom since its very beginnings.” You said, dropping your voice. „I AM the rightful owner.”
„Y/N-”
„Don’t Y/N me-” You continued. „You have no right to do this. I was quiet even when you limited my activities in the Museum, which by the way you shouldn’t have even done in the first place. I was quiet, because I knew that one day, the Museum will be mine like it belongs. But now you want to STEAL my heirloom from me-”
Now it was Mrs Cha who stood up. „How can you even say something like that” She said with an unmasked disapproval. „You are still only twenty. You don’t-”
„And Jongin is only two years older than me, figures.” You immediately interrupted her. „I don’t know what your actual plan is, but I think that you forgot how influential my family was.” You put your hat back on, preparing yourself to leave before you could say or do anything that you would regret. „I will talk to whomever I need to, and I will get all of you blacklisted forever from whichever activities in this field if you try this. I promise.”
Without giving her any time to respond, you turned around and left the room, making sure to slam the door with full force as you did so.
You didn’t end up leaving the Museum for the day, but instead you went up to where all the old books and other literary works were being safely stored.
Probably one of your favorite places ever.
There couldn’t be anything else which was actually able to calm you down than going through a chapter or two of some old fashioned beautifully written novel.
Or could there be?
You slid your hand to the pocket of your black coat where you usually carried your phone.
You didn’t even contemplate much as you typed a quick message to Baekhyun, asking him if by any chance he could come to pick you up at the Museum later that day.
You pressed send, hoping that he would see and reply to you soon enough, and ending up being completely surprised when you got an almost immediate reply.
»Of course I’ll be there. I’ll be waiting in the back!«
At least one pleasant message today, you thought.
You placed your phone on the nearest dark wooden table, wiping off some dust which managed to collect on the smooth surface of the elegant furniture.
You didn’t want to think about any of your cares in that moment, swiftly collecting a little pile of novels and placing them on the same table next to your phone.
You sat down, opening the first one on top, immediately immersing into your own personal escape from reality.
You didn’t know how much time had passed, or more importantly, how on Earth did you manage to fall asleep reading, but the one thing you knew for sure was the impossible to miss, extremely loud sudden alarm which snapped you back into the reality.
You woke up completely dazed, not knowing what was going on, the never stopping alarm being the only thing which filled your ears.
Still in a dumbfounded state, you started to hastily collect your belongings and once you took everything you ran down the stairs, becoming always more awake with every step.
As soon as you found yourself back in the main hall, you started looking around not even knowing what you were looking for.
Did someone break in?
Had something just been stolen whilst you were asleep?
No way, the Museum had a security system beyond excellent, at the same time at the first glance nothing seemed to be harmed.
You ran up to the door, grabbing the large doorknob and trying to open it in one swing.
Failed.
The door didn’t even budge.
You tried opening it again, pulling on it with all the strength you had, but still it remained immobile.
It must had been locked, you thought.
In all the daze, you took out your phone and took a quick look at the screen.
Nineteen o’clock.
A whole two hours after the official closing time.
And then it hit you.
One, you had been locked inside the Art Museum.
Two, someone activated the alarm.
And not without a reason, you might even have an idea who that person could be.
Every aspect of this situation seemed totally ridiculous to you, given that you didn’t even have the keys to free yourself.
You couldn’t leave through the main door, that was for sure. You couldn’t also just stay inside, given the extremely loud alarm which, you believed would soon make you deaf if you stayed there any longer, and the police which was very likely to appear soon.
They probably wouldn’t care that you were the very heiress of the Museum, if it looked like a break in, they were more than likely to simply arrest you.
You felt your eyes welling up at the ridiculousness of the situation you ended up being in, swearing to yourself that if Mrs Cha was behind this, and you were more than sure that she was, you would make her pay for trying to steal what was rightfully yours.
But right now you needed more to focus on how to find an alternate way of getting out of the building.
You needed to quickly find a way out on the ground floor, given that obviously there was no way you could just jump from higher floors if you didn’t want to break your legs.
And then it enlightened you.
The only low and big enough window for you to escape through was at the end of the corridor which lead to the main office occupied by Mrs Cha.
You rapidly turned around and bolted forward to the said corridor, dashing through it at a speed you probably never ran at before.
As soon as you found yourself standing before the big window, you realized that it couldn’t be opened, throwing your hands up in the air in a desperate manner.
You already wanted to just break down right where you were standing, letting whatever that was about to happen if you stayed there happen, when your eyes landed on a medium sized marble figure of a cat standing in the corner by the wall.
You remembered once trying to take that figure all the way down the stairs by yourself, it being way too heavy to just carry it freely around let alone down or up the stairs.
You looked at the figure again.
It was your only call, you thought.
You fixed your black hat and approached the figure, being careful to properly grasp it and hold it up.
If you threw it strongly enough, the glass would break allowing you to escape safely and quickly.
„Alright, there goes nothing.”
You swung the marble cat as well as your petite body allowed you to, aiming at the glass and praying that it would actually break and let you out.
As soon as the marble came into contact with the glass, you heard a loud CRASH, watching as the window shattered entirely in front of you, sending little pieces of glass flying on the floor by your feet.
You wrapped your black long coat tighter around yourself, quickly getting through the broken window out on the cold winter air.
It was even colder than yesterday but you didn’t care, concentrating only on running around to the back where Baekhyun was supposed to be waiting for you.
You started to desperately run even faster when you heard the loud sirens of police cars, followed by red and blue lights illuminating the walls.
You didn’t even know how on Earth you managed to run so incredibly fast in your usual heels, but as soon as you reached the back alley of the Museum and spotted a very concerned and flabbergasted Baekhyun on his motorcycle, you ran up to him and jumped on the seat behind him without thinking, startling him even more.
„Drive, fucking DRIVE!” You yelled.
„Y/N! What-”
„BAEKHYUN, DRIVE-”
„Oh my god, okay!”
You heard the familiar sound of a starting engine, soon the two of you dashing through the dark alley and onto the open road, driving just ahead of you, with the sound of police sirens fading behind you.
„So basically you got locked up in your OWN museum, then broke OUT of your own museum by crashing the window with a sculpture, and then we escaped with police of the state basically on our tail-” Baekhyun was walking back and forth on the white snow, stepping in his own imprinted footsteps.
You made an even more pained expression, covering your blushing face with your hands.
„And all that just happened because that sick woman being currently officially in charge of the Museum wants to practically disown you-” Now he was just walking around in circles before you, tapping his lip with his finger repeatedly. „And on top of that, the other thing which concerns me...” He paused, making you look up at him. „You actually swear?”
You raised your eyebrows in question. „What?”
„You told me to fucking drive.”
„Baekhyun.” You said. „I really have more serious problems than this right in this instant.” You said, but cracked a smile nonetheless.
Which was soon wiped off of your face again, as your head started to fill up with the Museum, Jongin, Mrs Cha, and everything else what had been keeping you up at night.
It didn’t go unnoticed by Baekhyun, who just crouched in front of you and looked you in your eyes.
„Y/N-”
„Jongin is really-” You started, but got interrupted by Baekhyun who took your hands and gently pulled you up.
Never breaking the eye contact, he decisively intertwined his fingers with yours. „Now seriously, fuck him. Forget him. You’re with me tonight.” He said, firmly holding your hands. „And as for everything else concerning the Museum, this is your heirloom. There has to be a way to kick them all out once and for good, and I believe you know very well how to-” He said, his eyes still fixed on yours. „We can win this. None should be messing with you like that.”
„We?” You asked quietly.
„Yes.” He simply said. „I’m with you.” He said the last part in a much softer tone, resulting in you almost welling up all over again, but ending up only shyly squeezing his hands.
He seemed to notice that his words unlocked something in you, because as soon as he saw your teary eyes, he let go of your hands and pulled you in into the warmest embrace you’d ever been in without the slightest hesitation.
You didn’t know what it was about Baekhyun that made you feel so safe and cared about, but you knew that being in his embrace felt so warm and natural that you almost forgot that you were standing in the middle of nowhere, cold snow falling everywhere around you, his body heat being the only source of warmth on this eventful winter night.
After that memorable night, everything what followed happened in a blur.
Right on the next day, your suspicions regarding Mrs Cha and the sudden alarm had been confirmed.
Apparently, a group of students who luckily happened to pass by the Museum, witnessed her fidgeting with something through the glass door, seconds before the alarm went on and when she hurriedly left the Museum, not doing anything about the insupportable noise.
After the police arrived and the scene had been properly checked and investigated to cross out any other possibilities, they concluded that it only could have been her who consciously started all the mess which followed.
You expected to get at least scolded big time for what you pulled yourself with the marble figure and a broken window last night, but to your utter surprise everyone was beyond mad at Mrs Cha and others who were involved in her scheme, not a single person being mad at you.
Even more to it, before you could fill any form against the people who were, indeed, trying to steal your family’s heirloom from you, the word spread much quicker to the higher ups, making it even easier and smoother for you to legally kick out and even actually blacklist some people, starting with Mrs Cha.
When it finally came to Jongin, though, you would lie if you said that you handed him the dismissal letter without thinking twice.
Something deep in your heart, something twitched a little for a brief moment, but you shook it off completely as soon as you remembered Baekhyun holding you and telling you that you were not alone.
You finally knew that you really deserved much better than someone who wouldn’t notice and care if you disappeared.
Jongin didn’t even say one word to you, took the letter, and left your life through the Museum’s door.
You couldn’t really name that feeling, but you felt some kind of relief as soon as he walked through the glass door, not even looking back once.
Right now, you were just standing in the middle of a large room filled with oil paintings, admiring every single one of them in silence, smiling genuinely for the first time in a very, very long time.
You heard soft footsteps shuffling on the marble floor, soon being met with Baekhyun’s softly smiling face.
„This is the exhibition room I was telling you about earlier today.” You told him. „Almost all of my favorite oil paintings are being displayed right here. Look around.” You added, doing so yourself.
Baekhyun didn’t say anything, staying quiet. You looked at him, noticing that he’d been just looking at you the entire time, not paying even the slightest attention to the marvelous paintings surrounding him.
„Um, Baek-” You started. „You aren’t even looking at the art.”
„I am.”
„You aren’t, you’re looking at me.”
„Yeah” He simply replied. „Even in a room full of art, I would be still looking only at you.” He took a step closer to you. „You are the finest artwork of them all.”
You just looked at him in awe, not being able to say anything.
„Y/N, do you remember when I told you that I knew how it felt like to not be noticed by your crush whatever you do?” He asked softly. When you nodded, he continued. „Well, I think you already know that I was talking about you. That you are the crush I wanted to notice me?” He slowly intertwined his fingers with yours again, looking in your eyes through his bleached light hair. „I was by the Museum everyday only so that I could see you. And I hoped that one day you will eventually see me too, even if in the end everything went to a total mess in general, but-” You interrupted him by squeezing his hands.
„You’ve really spent only three days with me, and yet letting out an entire monologue like I always tend to do already rubbed off on you?” You asked with a smile.
He just continued to look at you completely in awe, the way he was looking at you alone telling more than a thousand words.
You imagined you must have looked very similarly, as you felt your cheeks warming up with every additional moment in which you stared into his dazzling chocolate eyes.
You went through a total earthquake in a matter of days, but it looked like it was all worth it at the end.
It felt like you found your heat in that winter.
A/N: oh lord this is one big sob story
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Oh. My. Fucking. God.
I have spent at least two years trying to restore the text message conversation between me and T in the following days after I witnessed his heart attack in session, back in 2017. He literally texted me less than 24 hours later because he was worried I felt rejected since he ended the session early to go home due to what he thought was bad heartburn.
For so long, I would search my texts (iPhone) using key words and the conversation would be listed, but wouldn’t open. I tried everything I could think of...looking through old iPhones, my Mac, my old Mac, my old backups. Nothing. Because I had a different iPhone at the time and its backup didn’t carry over to my new phone a few months later.
It just opened. IT JUST OPENED.
Took screen-shots of the whole thing, saved it to my iPhone, sent it to my Mac so it’s backed up there too. HOLY FUCK. I mainly wanted the conversation because I blamed myself, believing I caused it. And every time T wanted to process what happened, I refused until recently. In his texts that following day, he reassured me it wasn’t my fault and I wanted his exact wording. Because I take screenshots of certain texts so I can reread them when I need to.
Today has been such a shit day and this just....omg. I’m in shock.
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A Little Bit of Stress
Summary: You and Namjoon haven’t had sex in God knows how long because of your mutually busy lives. Namjoon was stressed for the next comeback and you had students to motivate but how were you supposed to focus on your job when all you could think about was your boyfriend naked?
Rating: M
Genre: Smut, Fluff, tiny Angst
Word count: 14,456
Warnings: There is sex in this. Oral. Female receiving. Sexual spanking and playful spanking. Erotica…duh. BIg dick energy. And literal. You can feel it in your guts ladies and gents. Fingering, slight dirty talk. na na na na na na na na na na na na Soft DomJOON! A little angst if you squint. Very fluffy. Namjoon loves reader with all he’s got. Unprotected sex. Multiple orgasms. Nipple play-kinda. Bratty reader. Slight choking. Sensitive neck Joon. Ear eating.
Please don’t repost without permission. I worked really hard on this y’all.
`-admin OperaNickle
Stress. It was the root of nearly all of your problems.
Whether it was your skin breaking out in places it never did before, or his sour mood that seemed to swing from mild discomfort to full on don’t-touch-me-or-I-will-scream, it was getting to you both.
Currently, you were sitting on the warm beige couch that Joon had insisted on buying after you complained about the white one that the apartment had come with. You dropped your coffee all over it and painstakingly scrubbed it for hours with a resulting light brown stain.
Your hands were resting on top of one of the dark brown throw pillows you’d bought soon after, triggering his own purchase of an oversized, red orange, paisley rug to match. It was never ending. He’d purchase something, then you would equal it or outdo him.
You had pointed out one time after he’d bought the most outrageous and expensive thing yet– a dark brown mahogany wood coffee table that looked like an old time-y trunk– that he was furnishing your apartment and that it was a waste of his money. He’d merely chuckled and commented on the sheer amount of time he had been spending at your place since you two had become more than just friends.
“I’m just trying to repay you for all of the food I consume when I’m here. Really, you’re the one who’s losing since you have to put up with me.”
Still, you had made up your mind to somehow repay him for all of the things he continued to buy without your consent. He may be well off –that being an understatement– but he didn’t need to be throwing his money at you. You had a job. A fairly okay one at that. You could buy your own furnishings and feed him when he was over. Another reason for your submission to his lavish, albeit over the top, gift giving was because it had clearly been established as his love language. How could you say no to the way he expressed his feelings?
The slam of the refrigerator door alerted you from the story you had been reading on your phone. Your fingers accidentally scrolled right and closed the chapter you were on, causing the app to suddenly glitch and close. Your heart sank.
You frantically clicked on the app to open it and when the loading screen popped up you knew it was a lost cause. You hadn’t saved the story, nor had you memorized the title or author.
You slumped in your seat letting out an audible groan of pure frustration. You had just been getting to the good part. The part you had started reading the story for in the first place, and just like your sanity, it was robbed at the worst time possible.
“Damn it! Pinche iPhone de la pinche fucking madre, oh my God!”
You let the phone drop with a ringing thud on a spot on the floor. It was slightly muffled by the fibers of the rug, but your voice was loud and shrill. From his place in the kitchen, Joon looked over. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the glare on his face shift into confusion. He leaned on the bar that stood between the living room and kitchen and took two deep, calming breaths.
You were getting on his nerves. You could tell. It wasn’t his fault or even yours. He was constantly under a lot of pressure and recently he’d hit a rut working on one of the verses of his songs. Itt seemed to travel to everything he worked on. The melody he’d been producing that had been flowing out of him like a smooth river; stuck. The lyrics to his next solo song that had been as easy as speaking; cut short. The rap line song that had been his idea; missing only his part now.
The frustration and dissatisfaction had bled into his personal life. To be more specific, you. He’d been at your apartment almost daily. Something about how you usually get him to relax and therefore out of any writer’s block he’d have but now it didn’t seem to be working. On the contrary, you seemed to be making it worse.
It was torturous. To have him in your bed and not able to touch him or sooth him in any way was the definition of your own personal hell. He showered late at night after he got in from work on most days unless it was the weekend, in which case he showered at around nine to sleep a full eight hours or more. Then he woke up on the earlier side of the morning to try and write from the comfort of his – your – “our” couch. That usually lasted until you woke up, made some sort of breakfast that he pecked at then threw away because his lack of inspiration made “food taste bland”.
In a way, you felt inadequate. Your sole wish in this relationship was to make his life easier and you hadn’t been able to satiate him for one single second. You had always prided yourself on being able to calm him down, and this no longer seemed to be one of your strengths.
He even wasn’t as affectionate as usual. Now, you weren’t the kind of person to let things like this get to you. It was a dip. A problem that would eventually turn into a hill. The lower you fall the higher you rise . It was just a fact of life…so why did you suddenly feel like you were walking on eggshells and he was throwing them at your feet?
“Are you okay? Don’t think I’ve heard you curse like that…ever,” Namjoon said, sounding apprehensive.
Your pulse raced as the unfinished scene raced through your mind.
Namjoon caressed your cheek, his fingers rough from working out. His voice, deep. Gruff. Like he’d just woken up.
“Oh baby,” he whispered in your ear. His warm breath tracing the shell. A shiver ran up your spine that he pretended not to notice.
“Do you know how much I’ve missed you,” he kissed your earlobe, letting his tongue dart out for a split second to lav at the tender skin, “Your voice,” he kissed the shell with a slightly open mouth, “ your lips…”
He traced your ear with his tongue, strong from all the rapping and his accurate pronunciation of every single syllable. You couldn’t help but sigh as a blush tracked up your body and settled in your cheeks.
“Joon-“
“Shhhh,” he whispered, still working at your ear, “just relax baby. Let me take care of you. Let me love you.”
“Y/N,” Joon said a little louder, snapping you out of your reverie. Your breath was coming shorter, your own mind trying frantically to fill in what you hadn’t read. Did he kiss her next? Where were his hands? Still on her cheek? Was he as turned on as she was? What did he mean by “take care” of her?
“What,” you said, trying and failing to keep the slight bite from your voice. Regret filled you instantly. It wasn’t his fault that the app was glitchy.
His eyes widened, taken aback by your tone. Great. Now you made it worse. You must have hurt his feelings.
“What crawled up your ass,” he asked, succeeding in keeping his tone playful and soft but it still agitated you.
You felt a lick of fire flicked against your chest. Anger boiled in your stomach. He didn’t mean it. You knew that. Just as you hadn’t meant the snappy way you’d answered, but the monster inside of you was ready to growl.
You bit your lip trying to keep the retort in your throat. If you snapped again, he’d just leave. He didn’t need to be here. He had a dorm and people much nicer to be around. If you wanted to be alone for the next couple of days, it would be the perfect way to do it.
“Is it work still,” he asked again, his features softening once again in concern.
The monster retreated as quickly as it had come. The way he seemed to search your whole body as if it could tell him without your words what was wrong was endearing.
“Yes.”
It wasn’t a total lie. He’d said “still” and yes, it was a part of your major frustration. Not only was your boyfriend being uncharacteristically cold but your students seemed to be trying less and less every class. It was like no one cared to learn English or to study anymore. Perhaps it was you. Maybe it was that you just weren’t as good of a teacher as you had thought.
It had been plaguing you. Every time you walked into class, ready to inspire someone, yet they all seemed to want to run the other way. It was always in the back of your head. What if you lost your job? You would get kicked out of South Korea for sure. You weren’t a citizen. You weren’t married to one… not even close…
If you were sent back to the US, your parents would never let you hear the end of it. The “I told you so” s and reprimanding glares. The way they would no longer be able to brag about how brave and smart you were. It was eating away at you.
Of course, you hadn’t told Joon all of this. His job was enough to keep him up for days without his girlfriend adding to the pile. You knew you should tell him what was really wrong, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You couldn’t tell him how crappy you’d been feeling without suddenly making the problem about you and not him and his much busier and more important life.
It had been steadily building. The anger. The frustration. The guilt. That, coupled with Joon’s complete disdain of your touch, had your own stress going through the roof. you couldn’t even remember the last time he’d made out with you, let alone had any sort of intimate moment.
So there you were. Frustrated. In far too many ways to count and no real way to fix it unless you wanted to do it yourself and honestly, you didn’t have enough alone time to actually try. As a result, you’d been scarfing down erotica fictions about your own boyfriend. The irony was not lost on you.
The only problem was that now that you knew what he was like in real life, all the renditions of him were just a bit off. You found yourself rewriting the fiction as you went, trying to imagine what the real Joon would do in that situation. Some were too out there to even consider reading. Some too perverse even for you. Some were so far from the real life Namjoon that they made you laugh but this one, the one that you had been reading before your stupid phone glitched, was very close to what you would assume Namjoon would act like.
The fake Namjoon was sweet. He was tender and called his girlfriend baby and jagi like he did to you almost exclusively in place of your name. He’d hugged her tightly and kissed her cheek multiple times softly just to remind her that he loved her.. He’d admire her hair and stared at her features as if committing them to his memory for later use. It was so purely Namjoon that it almost felt as if it was really him who had written it. Just for you. So you could have him when he was gone or unavailable. It had felt so real…
“Too many papers to grade?”
His very much real voice jarred you once again from your thoughts. It seemed he’d been doing that a lot lately. Or maybe you were just dozing off too often.
“Something like that,” you answered, crossing your arms over your chest. His oversized hoodie curling under your arms. You brushed a long braid over your shoulder with a satisfied grunt and let yourself slide onto the floor before you. Like his hoodie, you crumpled on the rug next to your phone which lay face down. Namjoon’s face winked up at you from one of the many photo cards of him you had and you couldn’t help but smile back at the miniscule Joon. You couldn’t help it. His smile made you smile. Too bad you hadn’t seen the real one in ages.
Gentle footsteps resonated off the white walls. You didn’t move. Your eyes glued to the ceiling as they got closer and you let your arms fall limply to your side. His face appeared directly in your line of vision, the ghost of a dimple on his left cheek as he half smiled for what felt like the first time in years. He looked down at your unmoving form.
“It’s got you all jelly like,” he said nudging your hip with his toes. You scrunch your nose in distaste.
“Don’t poke me you dork,” you hissed, still not moving, having found a comfortable position.
Namjoon rolled his eyes but sat down next to your head, his legs stretched out before him as he picked up the remote for the TV and went on Netflix. Within seconds you could hear the familiar music of your favorite franchise playing and you jerked unattractively to see.
The coffee table was in the way.
“Is that what I think it is,” you asked him, rolling your eyes to the back of your head to try to see him without moving.
“Why don’t you move over so that you can see for yourself?”
He patted his muscular thighs as an invitation. Did he want you to sit on him or lay your head on his legs?
You straddled him. Your hands rested on his shoulders as his smile grew. He was getting hard. You could tell, but his face remained simply at ease.. As if you were the most gorgeous painting he had ever seen and his sole job was to admire you. The only signs of his arousal were his dilating pupils and the third leg in his pants.
“Mmm,” you hummed looking back at the ceiling, “I’m kind of comfortable.”
You heard him scoff and couldn’t help the slight smile that graced your lips at his disbelief that mingled with amusement.
“Come on baby,” he groaned, “you’re going to turn down my thighs for the floor?”
“I don’t want to move Namjoon,” you argued, breathing deep so that your chest rose high enough to see through the excess fabric on your body. You could sense his eyes on you. Or was that your own desire tainting your perception?
“But… my thighs… and Harry Potter…” he whined. God, you loved it when he whined. Usually when you were being a huge brat and he turned into a puppy. It was delicious.
“But, the floor and my comfort,” you retorted, twitching your open fingers just for fun.
“Jagiyaaaa,” he groaned, grabbing the hand you’d just moved. He pulled on it to get you to move closer. Your head hit the side of his leg that was mostly covered by his black shorts. The small trip had cleared your view to the TV and you smiled triumphantly.
“Thanks Joon, now I can see,” you cackled as he let go of your hand and you turned on your side to see clearly. Professor Dumbledore had just started talking to a small cat with glasses.
For a couple of minutes, you sat in silence and his annoyance seemed to return. Just as the floor was staring to get uncomfortable and you were regretting your stupid choice to stay on the floor and not his thighs, one of his hands dropped down onto your eyes, blocking your vision entirely.
“Joon,” you said stiffly and you tried in vain to pry his… delectable… hands from your face.
“You either lay on my lap and watch the movie with me, or not at all,” he joked as you continued to wrestle with his long fingers.
“How am I supposed to get on your lap if you’re holding me down genius?”
“Oh sorry,” he said, lifting his hand then used both of them to place your head on his right thigh. You begrudgingly settled yourself on his muscular leg, thought internally you were cheering, pulling your braids out from under your body and over his lap. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw him looking at your hair with innocent desire.
“Jagi,” he said running his fingers over one of the braids that nearly touched the floor over his muscles, “can I play with your hair?”
Namjoon ran a hand through your hair, sniffing it.
“Jagi, you smell so good…” he said as he scratched your scalp lightly, “can I play with your hair?”
You choked on your own saliva for a second. You couldn’t swallow and you brought your hand up to cover your lips in case you coughed but the moment passed and your skin flushed as you imagined the short story again.
“Uh…ye-yeah. Go for it.”
Namjoon hesitated but pulled the hair ties off the ends of your hair and very slowly and tenderly began to undo the knots that made up your Dutch braids. It would be frizzy when he was done but you could always throw it up in a bun later. Besides, this was one of those things that you just absolutely adored about Namjoon.
He liked to play with your hair. It was soothing.. When you had mentioned it to Joon once as an anecdote that you enjoyed this action, he’d taken it upon himself to do it when he was sleeping over to help you drift off faster. He’d told you that he had an affinity for grooming people and the fact that you had mentioned that you enjoyed such ministrations made him excited.
His fingers drew small circles near the front of your head as he finished unbraiding one side of hair. Your eyes drooped as he stopped his small drawings and started to undo the other braid.
His fingers were skilled–there was no doubt about it–in many, many, ways, but maybe this was your favorite. You sighed, letting him massage your scalp as the movie played. You let your eyes close as the feeling of his hand on your head lulled you.
After a few blissful moments you realized you were falling asleep and you jumped up, throwing his hand off your head and nearly hitting his chin with your skull.
Joon’s eyes widened with surprise and confusion as he waited for an explanation. You smiled at the man before you cleared your throat and spoke.
“I was falling asleep.”
Namjoon relaxed his shoulder. He had been scared he’d done something wrong,
“That’s okay baby. I just want you to relax,” he said, pushing your head towards his lap again but you pulled his hand away and straddled his lap before stretching your legs behind him and hooking your ankles together.
“What are you doing,” he asked, his breath hitching as you rested your hands on his chest. You leaned into him slowly and rubbed your nose on his before nuzzling against his cheek.
“It’s not fair that I’m the only one relaxing,” you answered, bringing his hand back up to your head and he sighed, tangling his fingers once again. You did the same, running your hand from the nape of his neck and up to his scalp.
He let out a slow breath when you clutched at the strands and buried your head in his neck, running your lips over the skin there.
He had a sensitive neck. Whether it was sensually or just on the daily, he loved neck kisses. So you delivered without complaint.
As you pressed your lips softly on his pulse you couldn’t help but feel elated. Finally. He was letting you help. Finally, he was holding you like he used to. You couldn’t bring yourself to ask “why” as you usually would. You were too scared to shatter the moment. If all you got from him were caresses in your hair and all you got to give were kisses on his neck, then it would all be worth it.
One of his hands began to draw on your mid to lower back and you couldn’t help but curl around his body. Tighter. Closer. If you could suddenly melt into him and become one, you would do it in a heartbeat. But this was enough. For now.
You lightly bit his neck in a couple of different places, letting your tongue lick small stripes in the same place before kissing the saliva away. His breath deepened further. His hold on your body tightened as well, like he was trying to pull you into him. Both of his hands were splayed out on your torso. His fingers dig into the fabric of his hoodie on your body and his head lulled to the side so you could have better access.
Elation filled you to the brim. To have him so pliant under your touch was all you could ask for. Him letting you take care of him; that’s all you wanted.
You used the hand that had a grip on his hair to maneuver his head to meet your mouth. You kissed up the tendon in his neck slowly, taking your time to appreciate his smooth skin.
“Oh baby,” he groaned. His mouth was so close to your ear that his breath grazed the shell. A shiver ran up your spine as you kissed his jaw. You struggled to keep yourself present. It was about him. Not about you.
“Jagiya,” he husked trying to move his head to try to kiss you. You held him firmly in place.
He groaned again, this time in frustration. He wasn’t used to you taking control. It was always him who took the reins but the last thing he needed at this moment was to take care of you.
“It’s okay baby,” you mumbled against his sideburns, “just let me take care of you.”
You planted a soft kiss on his ear. You felt his body convulse. His legs began to fidget under your body. His hips bucked and his hands grasped at your waist as if to still you. It was too late. You could feel his arousal. Slowly, he was hardening as you continued to kiss and suck at his golden skin.
“Wait wait,” he said, ripping you from his jugular and holding you at arms length. His breath was heavy, almost as if he had been running. His pupils were dilated and his skin was flushed from his neck to the tips of his ears.
Sinful. This picture of your boyfriend clearly turned on by the simplest stroke of your lips and fingers, was sinful. And Lord were you a sinner.
You bit your lip, keeping a growl from ripping from your mouth. You could lose control. Maybe you were the one who was riled up. Your pulse thumped against your neck, your chest… your panties… it’s been too long. Much too long for your liking.
“Wait for what,” you complained, clenching and unclenching your fingers in his lush locks. You ground your hips once down , pushing into his lap to create friction. He grunted, squeezing your waist to stop you from moving, but you wiggled and squirmed in his grasp managing to get a couple more strokes against his rapidly hardening erection.
“Hold on,” he spat through gritted teeth, pushing you back and off his lap. The heat in your body seemed to pulsate in your veins as you watched him trying to catch his breath. His shorts were tented. His muscles flexed as if he was trying to stop his body’s reaction, his eyes lidded and his head heavy on his shoulders.
You couldn’t understand why he had stopped you. He seemed to want it as much or maybe even a little more than you did.
Suddenly, fear gripped you like a vice. The heat drained and in that moment, you felt stupid. How could you throw yourself at him like that? He’d asked you to stop and yet here you were pushing.
You pushed yourself away from him a little more and hugged your legs to your chest and placed your forehead on your knees. Tears sprung into your eyes. You tried to keep them quiet but it was hard to breathe. Emotion consumed you. Just because his body reacted did not mean that he wanted what you did.
Guilt flooded your head like a fog as you felt your body begin to shake. Maybe he just didn’t want you anymore. Maybe… maybe the couple of months that the two of you had as more than friends were enough for him. Maybe he realized that you were better as friends. That would explain his lack of affection. His lack of interest. That would explain his rut.
“Whoa whoa, Y/N, what’s wrong? Why are you crying,” you heard his voice ask. His hand patting your head to try to get you to look up. You could feel your hair fanned around your arms and were grateful for the extra cover. You hated crying in front of people and he was no exception. In fact, you hated it even more.
When you gave no answer, you felt him shift closer. He pulled your hair back into a makeshift ponytail . Air hit your burning cheeks but you refused to look at him.
“Oh baby what did I do,” he asked but it didn’t seem aimed at you. You felt him press his own forehead to the back of your head. He nuzzled into your now frizzy hair and placed a gentle kiss. you felt your shoulder shake as you struggled to breathe.
A sob escaped your lips and like a dam, it burst forward. It was ugly, to say the least. You hadn’t realized how much emotion you had been holding back. Hadn’t realized how bottled up you had been. Now you were paying for it.
How embarrassing.
“Y/N no,” he said, pulling at your legs and replacing them with this body. He wrapped his arms around your torso and settled your arms onto his shoulders. He cradled your head against his neck and kept his hand on the nape of your neck
“Shhh baby it’s okay… it’s all going to be okay. Just tell me what I did. I’m so sorry…”
How had you gotten here? How did you end up on the floor of your apartment with tears in your eyes when all you wanted was to kiss his stress away?
You sat together like this for what felt like forever. Eventually, he pulled you back onto his lap. You assumed because it was more comfortable for hi than squatting on his knees.
He didn’t ask again what it was that he did. He didn’t question the tears. Instead, he stroked your hair and kissed your cheeks while you calmed down. You felt guilty. You owed him an explanation but you could feel it in your bones that you wouldn’t be able to speak if you tried.
Finally, you were able to breathe normally but you stayed in his arms for a couple seconds more in case he pushed you off again after he realized that you were feeling ok.
You slowly pulled your head from his neck and searched around on the floor for one of the hair ties that he’d pulled from your hair earlier. There was one near your phone.
You quickly tied your hair up and away from your tear stained face, letting the cool air conditioning hit your skin. Joon watched you, waiting on bated breath, but you didn’t want to talk.
You let your hands rest on your own thighs as his hoodie sleeves covered your hands entirely. You must have looked pitiful. Hopefully you weren’t too red and puffy.
You couldn’t bring yourself to get off of him so you simply sat waiting for him to break the silence. Maybe he had the same idea because he didn’t speak either. He let his hands fall to your hips and pressed softly into the flesh soothingly.
You took a shaky breath trying to give yourself courage but- thank God- Joon beat you to it.
“Baby… are you upset because I pushed you away? I just needed a second to cal down.”
Baby? Would he still call you baby if he didn’t want to date you? Maybe he didn’t know how to end it and so he was trying to keep you from finding out that he wasn’t feeling it anymore. Baby. you remember when he first called you baby and even though it hadn’t been your favorite name to be called from previous lovers, when it had come from his lips, from his heart…it was different. It was praise. It made you feel warm and like you were glowing. Yet, this time, it was like he’d stabbed you with a heated knife somewhere below your ribcage.
“If you don’t want me anymore you should just tell me,” your mouth said. Your voice sounded foreign. As if it had come from someone else. What you said surprised you almost as much as it surprised him. His eyes widened and searched your face.
“Not-not want you,” he stuttered, a laugh barely concealed in his surprise, “are you kidding?”
Ignoring your fear at how you appeared after your pity party, you snapped your head up to look at him. A small smile rested on his lips and the deeper of his dimples showed slightly. While there was worry behind his gaze, there was another emotion, deep within the brown of his eyes. It was mirth. He thought this was funny.
“Namjoon,” you raised your voice, trying to keep your own smile at bay. You swatted at his arms and he feigned hurt.
“What,” he yelled letting uncharacteristically dashing chuckles escape his lips, “You can’t expect me to think you’re being serious.”
“I am being serious-“
“Ahahaha,” his loud and somewhat funny laugh was back and with it your own smile. It felt like you hadn’t heard it in so long. Sure, he laughed when he was on run episodes or when he was with the boys but it seemed like around you, he was always down. It was nice to have him laughing even if it was at you.
“Joon! Stop laughing, I’m not kidding!”
He laughed even harder at that. His laugh reached a level of loudness that made your ears ring but you didn’t care. He looked happier than he had in weeks. You couldn’t help but chuckle along as he laughed until they subsided into snickers. All the while you continuously poked and pushed at his shoulders playfully.
When he was finally composed enough to make direct eye contact, he cleared his throat and widened his pretty eyes at you as he tended to do after he heard a good joke. His smile was glued to his face as he rubbed circles into the hoodie.
“Do you really think,” he couldn’t help but cough as he tried to stop another fit of laughter from escaping, “that I would ever, and I mean ever,” he paused, his fingers slipping down almost deafly to the hem of the hoodie you were wearing, “not want you?”
You blinked at him as his eyes glittered, darkening impossibly so. It was like a switch was flicked and the small amount of lust that you’d seen before was back. Nimble fingers found their way under the oversized fabric on your body. His touch was slightly cold to the skin on your stomach. It sharply contrasted the heat that seemed to rush into your cheeks and your ears.
“Well,” you managed with little to no effort, “it’s been weeks since I’ve so much as kissed you…” His index finger had found the lace of the bralette you were wearing. His thumb hooked under the soft edge and tugged at it slightly. Distracting. He was so distracting.
“So-so I thought maybe it was something I had done,” you said in one breath as his thumb dug a little higher under the elastic that clung to your ribs to keep your breasts in place. Just in the nick of time too. Had he done it just one second earlier, you would have probably become mute for once in your life. A feat only Namjoon could achieve.
“That’s on me,” he said suddenly halting his progressing fingers, his shoulders sagging, “I’m sorry I’ve been so distant lately.”
Namjoon rested his forehead on yours. His eyes shut tight as his apology fell from his pink lips.
He stroked the section of skin under the pad of his thumb, the tip just barely brushing the underside of your breast. You felt a wave of heat rush through your body. Was it getting hot? Should you close the curtains?
“I’ve just been stressed and I didn’t want to blow up on you. At the same time, well… I miss you and I feel the most comfortable around you. I don’t ever feel like I have to pretend that I’m alright. I didn’t mean to make you feel unappreciated.”
When had his other hand found your bare waist? Had his voice distracted you? When had the rest of his fingers ended up under the soft lace of the bralette? Had his thumb traveled further?
“I didn’t mean to…deprive you,” He whispered, forcing you forward to catch his low words. In hindsight, it was a trap. That’s exactly what he wanted but could you fight him when he sounded so delicious?
Your thoughts were cut short when his hand on your chest shifted completely, cupping and gently squeezing. Your eyes widened, mouth dropping open in surprise. He gave another firm squeeze as his eyes squinted cutely, his high pitched giggle returning, like music to your ears as he leaned even closer and bumped his nose against yours.
“Kim Namjoon,” you gasped but it was eaten up as he quickly connected his lips to yours in a spurt of short, chaste kisses that had you chasing after him. Frustration flooded your veins as he continued to pull away, leaving you wanting more and more the more he gave.
Finally, having had enough, you grabbed his head with both of your hands and tilted it up slightly so you could kiss him properly. Forcing him to slow down. He would be in control soon enough. You should enjoy the power you had while you could.
You forced your lips onto his. The kiss was soft, slow, passionate. He melted into it. He always did like when you took a hold of him in some way or another. Sinful, beautiful noises escaped his lips. His small moans seemed to absorb into your pores. In turn you couldn’t help but answer each and every one of them. He nibbled on your bottom lip for a second, an action that you couldn’t get enough of and he knew, then went right back to sucking on your upper lip.
“Fuck,” you could feel the arousal in your throat. He made you lose yourself. He made you forget where you were, who you were.
“That’s right baby girl,” he groaned into your mouth as you licked his lips, “that’s exactly what I’m going to do to you.”
You moaned. It was embarrassing how easily you could come undone under his ministrations. If you could kiss him for eons, you would. His lips were your favorite bit of him. He was so. Fucking. Good.
“Baby please,” you groaned pulling at his lip with your teeth, “I want you…”
“Shit,” he said, a gurgle of want bubbling from his throat. You shifted, trying to remind him of his hands on your body but what it did instead was remind you of another part of him that seemed almost as excited as you were.
“Jagi,” he hissed, shifting his hips to get the same friction you’d just created, “do that again.”
You pulled your lips from his, a thin strand of saliva connecting you. In any other situation, this would be gross, but in that instant, it only spurred you on more.
“Yes sir,” you joked, winking at him as you rolled your hips against his half hard erection. A melody of noises fell from his blessed tongue. Lust was over taking you. Your eyelids became heavy. Your breath, shallow and hard.
“You know that’s not what I want you to call me,” he hissed at you, his fingers on your chest picking at the nipple that had hardened at some point while you made out. You sighed, your tongue darting out to wet your parched lips but you knew that the thirst you were feeling could not be quenched this way.
“Say my name,” he growled, twisting his finger and pulling at the sensitive skin. You were panting now, slowing your movements on his lap to enjoy his cares.
You whimpered, pushing your chest into his hand, arching your back as you struggled to draw any breath.
“Come on baby girl,” he pressed, his lips brushing against your neck. When had he gotten to your neck?
“Just once,” he begged but you knew he wasn’t asking.
“Make me ,” you gasped as he bit and sucked at your pulse. A smile tugged at your lips as you felt him stop and tense.
He pulled his lips from your neck, a lewd squelch resonating in the empty apartment as he brought his eyes level with you. He withdrew his hand as well without even a warning and you whined, thought you knew this would happen as soon as you started to fight him. It was worth it though. You knew he always worked better under a little pressure.
“Just what I needed to hear.”
He shifted under you, locking your ankles behind his back. He then locked your hands behind his neck. You weren’t stupid. You could see where this was going. Now, Namjoon was obviously very smart. It was obvious. But sometimes, on most occasions, he lacked the common sense to make proper choices.
This was one of those times.
“Hold on tight baby,” he winked, kissing your lips once more before pushing himself up by doing a bench dip with his knees bent. Namjoon had a lot of thigh and arm muscle. This much was true, but was he used to lifting both his body weight and your own? No.
So when he started to shake under the joined pressure, it wasn’t a surprise. You would have laughed but Lord were you scared that he would fall, or drop you or hurt himself. Instead, you struggled to decide if you should be holding onto him for dear life or if you should fling yourself off him to avoid any major injury to either of you.
The decision was taken from you as his left arm bent at a slightly awkward angle and his balance was thrown. Instinctively, you let go of him to brace yourself as the swooping sensation of falling gripped you with fear.
You couldn’t tell exactly how it happened. Your eyes fell shut as you landed heavily on your side. Your elbow hitting first as you reached out to stop your momentum.
“Ow,” you couldn’t help but groan as sharp pain shot through your arm. You heard Namjoon gasp near you but all you could see was stars. You began to giggle uncontrollably as tears streamed down your face.
“Oh your God, Y/N are you alright,” he said, sitting you up with his strong arms. You couldn’t stop laughing. You’d hit your damn funny bone and in all honesty, this was a funny situation. Sex with Namjoon was nothing if not eventful and filled with awkward mishaps.
“I’m fine,” you said through laughter, “i just hit my elbow.”
You blinked away the tears in your lashes, looking up at the dope of a man that you were in love with. Worry was evident on his brows. He looked you over before taking your arm in his hand and examining the red mark where you had landed.
“Does it hurt a lot? Do you think it’s broken,” he asked, touching it lightly but no pain was felt on your end. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the fact that nothing, and you meant nothing- could stop you from taking this man in this very instant, but you couldn’t care less if your arm was broken. Hell, it could have been hanging off by a thread and you’d still want to have a quickie before we went to emergency care.
Could you blame yourself? The man was gorgeous.
This was, in fact, what you were focusing on at the moment. The way that his hair fell into his dark eyes. The way his jaw contrasted with his round cheeks. How his lips were slightly parted as he examined your arm with utmost delicacy. His shoulders. His neck. The veins in his muscular arms. His long… nimble…fingers…
“Joon,” you snapped a bit harsher than you had meant to. His eyes shot up to meet yours, confused and shocked.
“Did I hurt you…” he averted his eyes shyly, “More?”
“Oh honey no,” you laughed, though this time you cut yourself off as you caught a glimpse of his hardening member under the loose shorts he was sporting, “I’m hoping you might though.”
You weren’t much into pain and Namjoon knew this very well, but these words were enough to pull him back at what was at stake. You.
“Are you sure,” he asked one last time, fighting with his own concern and sky rocketing arousal.
“Very sure,” you said, pushing yourself up to your knees to kiss his cheek then ducking your head to kiss his neck.
A shiver ran down his whole body. His eyes closed and squinted. His bulge twitched slightly and you couldn’t stop the smirk on your face. You reached out and ran a single finger over the tented area, drawing little circles as you worked your way to the tip.
“Oh fuck,” he whispered gruffly wrapping his fingers around your wrist and pulling it away from his body. You giggled as he let his eyes fall open, a chastising spark in his pupils. Oh you were so going to get it.
“Close the curtains,” he commanded and you shrugged, standing quickly and nearly yanking the curtains from the hinges.
“Done. Now what?”
“You seem a little eager to please,” He chuckled, standing from his place on the floor carefully. It must have been painful. He looked even harder now.
“I always am. You know I’m a people pleaser.”
He rolled his eyes but nodded at the stairs by your kitchen and with an excited hop, you ran towards them. Joon chased you, playfully swatting at your hips and behind every couple of steps. Your long hair bobbed with every step and your shoulders shook with every giggle. You tried to jump away from him but only half-heartedly. In truth, you loved his hands on your butt and you weren’t going to pass up some playful spanks.
When you made it to the landing, you turned around. Namjoon was slightly shorter than usual due to him being one step behind you, so you took advantage, throwing your arms around his neck as he took the last step. As if he was on the same wavelength, he reached down, grabbing at your thighs and settling them around his hip.
You giggled again, excitement and something a little purer flooded your system. His lips met yours unceremoniously, nipping and sucking light heartedly while you smiled into him. The scent of something flowery hit your nose and you realized he must have used some of his Chanel number five lotion. It strangely suited him well.
Finally, you reached your bed. He climbed on carefully, setting you on your back. He pulled away and blinked at you. Your stomach fluttered at his expression. There was a softness on his features that you never saw with anyone else. A love that you couldn’t quite describe but couldn’t ignore.
He let go of your leg to stroke at your cheek with the back of his hand. Pure, undeniable warmth surged through you at his touch. Your smiles match in intensity and adoration. It was weird. Maybe no one could understand it. How intimate sex truly was to you. Especially with the reputation that your boyfriend had of being a sexual deviant, but the truth was that while he was naturally very attracted to the human body, sex had a special meaning to him. It wasn’t something that he gave away easily. It was an expression of his trust and love. It was nearly never self-serving, and almost always to focus on you and your needs. He was a giver, contrary to popular belief.
You buried your hand in his hair and pulled him to your lips, savoring the taste of strawberry Chapstick as if it would be the last time that you could ever do so. Not even for a breath of air did you pull away as he hooked his thumbs over the edge of the hoodie and slowly began to bunch it up around your chest.
Cool air hit your warming skin, his touch only furthering the experience. Every nerve in your torso was in flames, the pulse between your legs growing stronger by the second. Like it was yelling at you to give it the attention it searched for. Namjoon angled his pelvis up so you could feel his own pulse against your own. His member twitched as he shifted his hips from side to side ever so slight, your legs still wrapped tightly around him. You couldn’t stand the thought of him being any farther from you than a couple of centimeters.
Just as the thought crossed your mind, he pulled away from the kiss, his hands both at the lace edge of your bra now. His gaze darkened as you whined, chasing his sweet lips but he kept himself out of reach with a pleased smirk.
“Joonie,” you groaned trying to pull his head back to you but he only rolled his eyes before prying a hand from his hair almost reluctantly, entwining his fingers with yours and kissing the back of your hand softly. He smiled and placed it over his chest, where you could feel his speeding heart. It pounded against his ribs at the same speed as your own. In sync, in one harmonious song.
You relaxed a bit at the gesture. His heartbeat always had that effect and he never failed to use it to control you in the sweetest way possible. Your chest rose and fell dramatically as he memorized your features.
“Can this come off,” he asked, tugging once more at the fabric of the sweater you stole. You smiled at him knowingly and nodded.
“If you take it back after we’re done, I’m going to be upset,” you half joked as he placed tiny pecks on each knuckle and one last kiss on the back of your hand before he dropped it next to your head and took the hem of the hoodie with both hands.
“Hands over your head,” he said, the slightest bit of authority in his command. Obediently, or maybe it was because you were so keen to please, you shimmed your hands over your ponytail and arched your back to make it easier for him to pull it off.
He was cautious not to get it stuck on your ears, or to pull on your hair. Too many times had he accidentally snagged an article of clothing on an earring or accidentally tangled your hair into the fabric. He’d learned that lesson, as he more than likely learned not to try to stand up with you in his lap earlier.
Once you were free of the fabric, he balled it up, smirked at you, then tossed it over to a pile of stuffed animals that you had set up on a small table. You had one from each tour he had gone to from every country they visited. In case you missed him he’d send you one from wherever he was so you could imagine being with him. It was such a sweet thought and a tradition you looked forward to.
Namjoon kissed your nose faintly, bringing your attention back to him. You gave him a tight-lipped smile, his hands not dilly dallying any further. Instead he rested them directly on top of your breasts, squeezing, just enough to remind you what you were doing. What you were craving.
“ Y/N,” he groaned, looking at the way his hands engulfed the hills on your chest. It was a reminder. You didn’t have huge breasts but neither were they tiny, and the way that his hands seemed to be the perfect size to hold each, only served to recap how big his pretty hands were.
“I love you in lace,” he gasped, thrusting his hips against the heart of your femininity. You choked on a moan. He was so stiff, and the combined warmth of your bodies seemed to radiate into the air.
“You’re blushing, beautiful,” He said against your neck. There was no denying it. Not only could he clearly see the tint of red on your skin, but he could also feel it against his lips.
“Shut up,” you complained, twirling a strand of hair between your fingers as he nibbled on your burning skin. He let a hand trace up to your chin. His thumb parting your swollen lips and pressing against your tongue. He wasn’t fond of you telling him what to do.
“It’s pretty, baby,” he kissed a hickey into your neck loudly, “You know I love it when your skin flushes under my touch.”
There was a hidden question in this statement. He was asking you if this is what you wanted out of this encounter. To turn pink under his hand. It wasn’t new. He’d done it to you on many an occasion and it was as enjoyable to you as it was to him.
“You know I like it too,” you said shyly, glad that he couldn’t see how much blood rushed to your cheeks at the thought of what could happen next.
His manhood twitched against your core, his breath hitched. He could read you like a book, or maybe he had you memorized. Either way, he pulled your legs from his body and pulled you to sit up. In a matter of seconds he had pushed you to the edge of the bed, stood you up and sat you on his toned thighs. Confusion clouded your mind. The other times that something of this sort happened in the bed room, you were across his lap not on it. In all honesty, you weren’t sure how this would work with the way he had positioned you.
Namjoon was a man with a plan. He wasted no time in scooting you back until his shoulders were pressed against the wall.
“Joon, what are you-“
“Lay down,” he said, pushing you forward as he parted his legs. Your head facing towards his feet, your face in the comforter. You put your arms under your head to support yourself as Namjoon pulled your legs around his hips once more.
That’s when it became all clear. Before you could process what was happening, he tugged at your leggings, pulling them down to about your midthigh. Cool air hit your behind and you couldn’t help the shiver that traveled up your spine.
“Pink panties ,” he whispered so hoarsely that it was almost unintelligible, “My favorite color on you, did you wear this for me?”
You took a deep breath, forcing courage into yourself before you said, “No, it’s for my other boyfriend .”
He stiffened at the sarcasm but quickly relaxed knowing that you were just trying to rile him up. One, slender finger drew a small heart on your right butt cheek. You could almost hear his smile as he inhaled. His brain whirling with possibility.
“Cheeky,” he joked, patting the spot he’d just traced on. The sound of skin on skin making your mind blurry with desire.
You snorted, because, come on. That’s a good joke and he chuckled.
“You know what happens when my baby gets mouthy…don’t you baby?”
You hummed, loving your little banter. It was lucky that your face was firmly between your arms or maybe he’d see your mind working to sass him.
“I don’t think that was mouthy,” you shrugged. His index finger found its way under the elastic of the panties on your body. You licked your lips in anticipation but nothing happened. Disappointment began to settle in right before you felt him tug it up then without warning, released it.
The sharp snap of pain panged through the skin on your butt and lower back. You hissed as he pushed into the place the elastic dug. It was a start. A damn good one at that.
“Maybe not, but I get to be the judge of that,” he said plucking the elastic up on the opposite side of your hip, “and I think that you’re mouthy.”
Snap.
You groaned but adrenaline had started to kick in and arousal was pooling between your legs.
“Turn me around,” you mumbled, enjoying the sting against your skin as he pressed into the area your underwear hit, “I’ll show you just how mouthy I can be.”
“Fuck,” he spat, smacking your right butt cheek and yanking your hair just for his own added pleasure. The noise resonated in the large, partially empty, apartment. A gasp escaped your lips.
“Maybe later,” he reasoned, hitting the left one this time a little harder than the last, “first, i want to see my handprint on your ass.”
Two more fast slaps to your right cheek followed by one to your left. You clenched around nothing feeling the burn start to take over. His hand delivered delicious blows each time.
“What-“ spank, “happened to-“ spank, spank, “pink?”
“I’ve decided that you deserve more than just pink. What with that filthy mouth of yours.”
“Filthy,” you mock gasped as he slapped one side multiple times quickly. So quickly, you couldn’t even count and your skin was starting to get numb.
“You didn’t seem to have a problem with my mouth last time it was around your-” three more slaps and then a snap of the elastic of your underwear was enough to shut you up. A moan gurgled into your mouth that you barely held back. Namjoon rubbed the sting into the panging skin. His finger now felt cold against you and you knew you must be peachy at the very least. Cherry red at the worst. Judging by his giggle, you were somewhere in between.
“Don’t laugh at me, you jerk,” you groaned, feeling your face flush as he ran a finger over your clothed slits. You shuddered in anticipation.
“I love how you react to the simplest touches,” he mumbled, running his finger over and over the damp underwear, “You’re a little wet baby.”
You could tell he wanted you to say something but you couldn’t bring yourself to voice a single thing. When you said nothing he continued.
“Maybe we should get rid of these,” he slipped a finger under the side for a second, before pulling it out and grabbing your hips.
“Or maybe,” he shifted himself pushing his manhood against your center, “we could just push these aside…”
He pulled you back onto him, the friction heavenly to you both. A sinful, melodious moan left his lips. He was getting desperate but if you knew your boyfriend, he could draw this out for much, much longer and you…you were in no rush.
“Or maybe,” you countered pushing yourself up and away from the bed sheets, “you could put my ‘filthy’ mouth to some use,” you threw a cautious look over your shoulder only to see his mouth hanging open in surprise and his fluffy cheeks flushing a pale pink.
“What’s wrong baby,” you asked with a smirk looking down at your touching centers then back at his eyes, your lip between your teeth, “cat got your tongue?”
His eyes sparkled as he looked between you where you connected through fabric. You could almost see him salivate. You’d heard of this before your relationship with Namjoon. You’d heard of men loving to please a woman. You had heard of the way some men drooled at the thought but never had you experienced it. That is, unti the first time Namjoon disrobed you and he’d licked his lips and buried his face between your legs.
And here it was again. That look. Feral. Primal. Thirsty. It was, so absolutely sexy. But this was not what you had in mind.
In an instant, Namjoon rolled you off of him, shifting himself on his hands and knees. You adjusted yourself against the pillows of the bed, your chest heaving as he tore his shirt from his body as if it was burning him. He threw it on the floor next to the bed then turned his attention back to you, “Take it off.”
“Take what off,” you asked genuinely not sure but his quirked eyebrow made you swallow the little saliva in your mouth and strip your bralette and underwear in a matter of seconds. You weren’t in the mood to be deprived of an orgasm after a couple of weeks hiatus.
You propped yourself up a bit higher, your legs squeezed shut in slight embarrassment. You crossed your arms under and slightly over your breasts to cover your pert nipples. It had been a while, and it kind of felt like it was the first time he’d seen you naked even though, in the back of your mind, you knew he’d seen it plenty before.
Namjoon’s chest rippled in the dim light, his arms, so toned and silky, flexed as he held himself up, devouring every inch of skin he could see. His tongue darted out to lick his plush lips. A shock of thrill went directly to your core. You had memories of that tongue in other places.
“i’ve missed you baby girl,” he said, grabbing your ankles and pushing them apart so he could take a look at what lay in between. When his eyes landed on your slit, it was like he’d been sedated. His shoulders relaxed, his jaw slacked and his elbows buckled slightly.
“Finally,” he grumbled, jumping at your body. He kissed your lips passionately, ripping your arms from your chest and entwining his fingers with yours to pin them to the bed on either side of you. You spread your legs even wider to accommodate his torso.
He pressed his hips into your sex. The texture fabric of his shorts rubbed up against the little nub that was begging to be touched.
You moaned into the kiss as his tongue found its way into your mouth. You were hot. So hot. You were burning up. Maybe it was the way that you could feel his erection so firmly between your legs. You couldn’t tell. But you were so freaking hot.
“Fuck baby,” he groaned against your chin, kissing down your neck sloppily. Trails of saliva followed as he made it to your chest. He wasted no time in taking one of your eagerly awaiting nipples in his mouth. He lightly nibbled and sucked on the sensitive flesh. His tongue was weirdly talented, even though he hadn’t had many girlfriends before you.
You usually attributed it to his rapping skills as he had so eloquently put it one time when you, in the heat of the moment, asked him how he could possibly be this good.
“You’ve heard of what guitarists can do with their hands? This is what rappers do with their tongues.”
He pulled away from your chest, kissed the nipple, before he blew on it just a tiny bit. He drove you crazy and he knew it. Your eyes rolled into your head. God, you missed him.
“Joon…if you don’t touch me, I swear-”
“Baby,” he cut you off again, “I think it’s been too long. You’re forgetting who,” you looked down as his hands grabbed onto the inside of your thighs, “is in charge.”
You opened your mouth to protest but his own mouth dove right into the folds between your legs kissing with an open mouth and you shut your lips instantly.
“Fuck,” you said, trying to close your legs but his strong arms kept you open, vulnerable before him.
He lapped at your clitoris with just the very tip of his tongue. He drew shapes and letters. He must have spelled words even, in hangul by the way that his tongue was moving and you just lay there, shivering under his touch.. He really was a talented rapper if what he was doing was any indication.
He mumbled something against your core, and it sent a vibration of pure delight through your body. You clenched around nothing and let a whine escape your lips. This was not supposed to be about you, but were you a horrible person for suddenly not caring?
“Wh-what,” you asked, as waves of pleasure surged through your body, his plush lips clamping around the little nub between your legs and sucking gently.
He withdrew his lips with a lewd squelch and you wrinkled your nose at it. Disappointment surged through you before his voice did.
“I said,” he licked a long, wide stripe from bottom to top, his eyes firmly on your shocked and blissed out face, “so good.”
You had no words. You floundered for any semblance of coherent sounds but nothing came to mind. How did sentences work again? Did your voice come from your lips?
You bit the corner of your bottom lip as he gently kissed around your labia. He let go of your thighs, and used his index finger and thumb on both hands to spread you open. His eyes were greedy, excited. It was like someone had offered him some cotton candy or made him some of that expensive drip coffee he liked. He looked, hungry.
Without your response, he once again kissed the now very visible and pulsating nub that was filled with blood from arousal. The sensation made your shoulders both relax and tense at the same time. Noticing your reaction, he chuckled, and stuck his tongue out sharply. Without hesitation, he licked back and forward a couple of times. Your legs shook and you had the instinct to clamp them closed but you forced yourself to keep them apart and bent.
Within seconds, you felt your climax nearing. After a few rounds in this same position, he’d figured out exactly what to do to make you finish. You could still remember telling him when he had first suggested trying this particular act that no one had ever made you finish from just eating you out and not to feel bad if you didn’t climax, but he was determined and after a first time “failure” -which was relative because what he had done felt great but he felt it wasn’t a success until you came- he set himself to research and was eventually, the first man to make you come in this way.
It was safe to say that it had gone to his pretty little head. Maybe this was why he liked to do this so much. It was something purely his. Something he could proudly call himself a pioneer of and he was so damn good at it.
“Joonie,” you whimpered, pulling on his hair tightly so he would slow down, but it was like he knew, and he probably did know, that you were close.
He doubled his efforts, holding you apart, vulnerable to his talented tongue. You threw your head back. The pleasure was almost too much. Too powerful. The thought that it was Namjoon between your legs making you see stars was almost enough to push you over the edge.
“Come on gorgeous. i know you want to cum,” he mumbled quickly, going back to the motion he had before with a slight bit more pressure.
Maybe it was because he pointed it out, or maybe it was because you really were needy, but you did. You felt your body tense almost to the point of discomfort then like a dam filled with water, the pleasure burst, leaving you moaning his name as he lapped at the wetness that still coated your womanhood.
“Namjoon please oh God,” you whined, trying to pull him off but he wasn’t slowing down.
Overstimulation was quickly taking over. Your body shivered violently. This time, your legs did snap closed on his head but he didn’t seem to care. He let go of your labia and pried your thighs apart, sucking your clitoris into his mouth harshly.
Tiny whimpers escaped your lips. It was like you were watching it happen rather than having it done to you. You couldn’t think. Your body acted of its own accord, reacting to every lick and slurp of your boyfriend’s perfect mouth as if on autopilot.
“Namjoon, it’s too much ,” you begged but he only chuckled and brought a hand closer to your center.
“I can’t have my sexy girlfriend thinking that I don’t want her anymore,” he said against your skin, “gotta show you how much I need you, baby girl.”
You gasped, as a finger circled your entrance. The pads of his fingers were a little rough and the texture felt amazing against your sensitive middle. Without warning, he dipped the finger in. You were so wet at that point that his finger met no resistance and he instantly plunged a second finger after it.
As if he had been trained his whole life for pleasing just you, he found your g-spot near instantly. A small scream of gratification left your swollen lips as he pressed against it over and over and over.
It wasn’t long before you were at the edge again. Delirious. Desperate for release once more. The pain of over stimulation, long gone and replaced by hyper awareness and desire.
“I think I’m going to-“
Stolen from your lips were the words as you clenched around his finger and twitched under his touch. This time, he helped you ride it until goosebumps decorated your skin and when you tugged at his hair once more, he withdrew his head and his hand from your abused core.
It was a couple of minutes before you were able to properly breathe. Your chest heaved. You could have just ran a mile in six minutes flat with the exhaustion that filled your bones to the brim. When you could finally think clearly, you pushed yourself up and looked for your boyfriend.
He was waiting patiently on his knees between your own. His face, from his nose to his chin, glistened with the wetness that could only come from between your legs. His chest was bare, and a light sheen of sweat seemed to coat it. He too was breathing heavily but you could tell buy a single glance at his shorts, that he was nowhere near done.
“Nam-mjoon,” you said, your voice wavering, earning you a giggle from the cute boy before you, “I was supposed to suck you off. Not have you eat me out…”
Your arms felt heavy as well as your legs. If you let yourself, you could fall asleep right then but you forced the tiredness away as you looked at Namjoon’s puppy eyes.
“Do you want me to,” you asked, bracing yourself for his answer. This might be the worst blow job you ever give but if he wanted your lips around him, you would happily oblige.
“Y/N, you look like you could fall over at any second. i think having you fall asleep around your co-“
“Joon!”
He rolled his eyes at your outburst. you always felt a bit strange about him being vulgar when it came to certain body parts but he usually ignored your please and said what he wanted. Today was no different.
“…cock…would be a blow to my confidence not to my dick.”
You giggled at his joke and sat up a little straighter. Usually, you would fight him. you hated not reciprocating and especially now that it had been so long since you had a proper night together but there was a real possibility that you could hurt him so you didn’t push on the blow job and made a mental note to award him one at a later date.
“Okay, fine…but can we at least…” you paused, feeling a blush rush to your cheeks at what you were going to ask.
“At least?”
“Don’t make you say it,” you begged, getting on your hands and knees and crawling over to sit on his still, annoyingly clothed lap.
He helped you settle on his legs and held onto your thighs to keep you close. you could feel his erection as hard as ever. It must be painful at this point. You ground your hips just once and he winced. Yeah, he was far too gone.
You reached up to his lips and wiped some of your own slick from his skin with your thumb. You felt a bit bad at how covered he was. You wiped the thumb on his shorts at which he frowned before you reached up and kissed him softly. The taste of you on his lips was strange. You could never really tell how you felt about it but if one thing was for sure, you were lucky to have such a wonderful boyfriend.
You managed to lick and kiss most of the moisture from his mouth before he spoke again.
“Can I make love to you?”
You blinked up at him, surprised. At this point, maybe you shouldn’t have been. He knew you like the back of his hand, or maybe even better than that. You mentally thanked him for saving you the awkwardness of asking for it and nodded your head vigorously.
His dimples made an appearance as he very suddenly pulled you towards him and on to your back. You squealed, giddy to finally feel him inside you after so long. He let go of your legs and quickly, and might you add, very ungracefully, pushed his shorts and underwear off in one swoop.
His shaft sprung up. The tip was a deep red and it leaked precum. You couldn’t help but lick your lips. It was thick and long. The kind of thing that you would expect to see in art or in paintings. It was ethereal. Delectable. How could you have let yourself be deprived of this view for so long?
In an instant, you remembered the feeling of him inside you and your head reeled. If you remembered correctly, this was going to be a stretch.
Namjoon climbed over you in the blink of an eye. You could tell he was excited because, well it was just something you knew. It was radiating from his body like an aura.
“Do you think you’re ready,” he asked, kissing your forehead, then your hairline, ever so gently. He peppered kisses all over your face as a smile graced it. You grabbed a hold of his face in both hands and forced him to kiss your lips, which he did without argument.
“You are too cute Joonie baby,” you mumbled against his lips before you let a hand trail down his toned chest, over his muscular but undefined abs and finally wrapped around his hardened member.
His smile faltered for an instant, his erection twitched in your hand. You gave it a couple of slow and lavish pumps. You could see the fine hairs on his body stand on end at the sensation and you couldn’t help but giggle.
“You’re killing me here,” he choked out through gritted teeth.
“I’m sorry Joonie,” you lied, keeping your pace slow, “I just want to make sure that you’re ready as well.”
You took his bottom lip between your teeth and sucked at it as you squeezed a little tighter around his rod still at the unbearable pace you had set. His body reacted accordingly. Shiver after shiver ran down his spine and his chest convulsed. Had he not jerked off either? He was so wound up.
“Baby girl, please just let me get in there… I can’t take much more of this,” he whispered against your jaw, leaving a wet kiss before connecting his eyes to yours. you smiled kindly and aligned him with your entrance.
As soon as you touched his tip to your middle, his shoulders seemed to tense further and you let go, letting him take over. As if he had read your mind, he gently began to push himself deeper. Was it payback for jerking him off so slowly, or was he scared to hurt you? He was inching his way in so incredibly slow. you could feel every vein in his member, every stroke against your walls. It was both horrible, and amazing all at once.
Finally, he bottomed out and despite how wet you were from your two orgasms, you felt tears prick your eyes. It had definitely been too long and you weren’t just talking about his member.
You could feel it in your stomach and he pushed down your lower abdomen just so you could feel it better. This was another thing he was proud of. No one had gone as deep as him. He was by far, the longest and girthiest you had ever had and he always made sure you remembered it.
A groan left his lips as he shifted his hips so you could feel him move inside of you. He wiped a tear away from your cheek and kissed the trail it had left behind.
“You feel that baby girl,” he asked gently, “that’s all for you. Only for you.’
He began to pull out at the same pace that he had impaled you and you whimpered, wanting…no needing more. He was almost fully pulled out before he slowly began to push back in.
Namjoon grabbed the hand that had been jerking him off and replaced his hand on your stomach with it. Then that hand came up and gently gripped around your neck. Your heart skipped a beat.
“How does that feel baby? Does it hurt?”
“Yeah,” you nearly screamed and he stopped mid thrust. You could see the fear in his eyes as he looked all over your face for some sign of what he had done wrong.
“It hurts because you’re going way too slow you doof,” you clarified, and he instantly relaxed.
“You scared me, Y/N.”
“Joonie please move faster,” you begged, ignoring his previous statement.
He sighed which shook a little as your walls contracted around his length. His grip on your neck tightened with your muscles and a shock of pleasure ran through your stomach. You let an unsteady moan escape your lips which was swallowed up as he leaned down, his sex still only about a quarter of the way in, and traced your lips with his tongue.
You clenched around him once again. He bit your upper lip roughly, then kissed it and your nose lightly. It was so confusing. The way he could be sickeningly sweet and at the same time be torturing you with his hands and his length. The mix of emotion made a fog in your head that kept you from seeing what was coming next.
“I’ll move my love,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. Goosebumps erupted all over your body. You let your eyes shut to better appreciate all of the pleasure you were receiving , intoxicated with the scent of his skin, and the way that his voice floated into your ear.
“If you say my name,” he whispered, licking the cartilage nearest his lips.
You knew it would come to this. You’d been too mouthy. Too self-righteous. It had been a long time since we’d shared a bed this way and you let your eagerness and desperation get the best of you. Now, you were truly going to have to pay for it. That is, if you kept up your refusal to give him what he wanted. Would you really want to risk getting denied an orgasm just to keep up your brat routine?
An mortified blush covered your cheeks up to your forehead. It wasn’t that it made you uncomfortable. It was a turn on to you too, but there was something embarrassing about calling him something so deeply fetishized. It sounded strange coming out of your mouth and made you cringe, but you knew that if you just gave him what he wanted, we would both be satisfied.
“Yes daddy,” you whimpered.
It happened in a millisecond. His hand squeezed around your windpipe, he bit down on your ear and he thrust his hip hard against your core.
A muted cry was ripped from your vocal cords. His tip hit just as deep as it had the first time. You could feel it in your stomach. You never really thought that could be possible but here you were, and you couldn’t have been more wrong.
Like a switch was flipped, he pounded into the wet mouth of your arousal, the slickness helping to keep it mostly painless. Still, the burn couldn’t be stopped as he stretched you farther than any fingers could. Moans fell from your lips like prayers. Namjoon grunted every time his hips met yours. A lewd clapping bounced off the walls.
There was no stopping him now. It was like a magic word and you knew that as soon as you’d said it, there was no going back.
Namjoon used the hand not around your neck to hold himself up and over you. Beads of sweat had started to form on his hair line with the effort he was exerting. A sexy wrinkle formed between his eyebrows as he squeezed his eyes shut. His breaths were coming out hard, and loud. He sounded like he was running a race and he was pushing himself to the end. It was music to your ears. Sounds more appealing than any symphony or singer you had ever heard.
Maybe you had zoned out, because when you zoned back in, your voice was mixed in with his. His real name was mixed in with shouts of “more” and “don’t stop”. You knew that later, after it was all said and done, the noises you were making would haunt you, but in the moment, you pushed away your insecurities and focused on the feeling of being full.
“Yes,” you gasped as he hit your g-spot, repeatedly on the way in and out. Gratification was flowing through you like a river.
“Yes what Jagi,” Namjoon asked, readjusting himself onto his knees so he didn’t have to hold himself up.
He grabbed onto one of your breasts and gave it a light squeeze before he flicked the nipple. Question forgotten, your breath caught in your throat but he abandoned your chest in favor of something lower. He traced lines into your stomach. Designs he’d come up on the spot that you’d have to remaster into a design of some sort if you still remembered them after you were done. It was beautiful. The way that you made love.
Beautiful, how you mixed together. A beautiful color that couldn’t be store bought or mass produced. It was you. Purely, and unequivocally you.
You choked as his wandering hand found your clit once more, rubbing tight and precise circles. It was too much, and he knew this. His fingers on your pulse point, his index on your sensitive bud, and his member inside you. It was everything you could ask for, and when your body froze, tense from his caress, it was no surprise to either of you.
“Namjoon,” you gasped as your walls convulsed around him, his speed even. It was getting harder to breath and it wasn’t because of the pressure on your windpipes but because once again, over stimulation was setting in. You winced as he pumped in and out at an inhumane speed. It was crazy. How could he hold himself off this long.
“I’m almost there baby, where do you want me,” he asked, his voice hoarse and deep and gravely.
“In-in me… I want you in me Joonie,” you panted.
Was it slightly inconvenient to have his ejaculation inside you? Yes. Was it nice to be so wet after we had sex? No. Did you give a single crap in that moment? No. No,you didn’t. All you knew was that you needed him. You needed to feel like you were his and like before, this was something that only he had ever done to you and it made it special.
As if that was all that he was waiting for, Namjoon stilled. His erection twitched inside you and then he came. He spilled into you. Hot and thick. you couldn’t help but let your eyes roll back into your head as his ejaculation dripped from your entrance. You squeezed around him just to try and help and were rewarded with a grunt of satisfaction.
“Fuck Y/N,” he huffed, removing his hand from your neck and your core to help steady him. His length had started to soften and you could tell that, much like you, he was exhausted.
He pulled out, wincing as the cold air hit his member.You, in turn, grimaced as his cum dripped down your thighs. You’d have to wash the bed sheets today.
Namjoon laid down beside you. Your body bounced as he adjusted his body. He draped an arm around your waist, cuddling into your side. Your bodies stuck together. Sweat, and well…other liquids clung to your skin.
You allowed yourself to relax into him for a couple of minutes. Your breathing pattern evened before you sighed happily and pushed him off of you. Namjoon whimpered as you carefully swung your legs over the edge of your bed. The uncomfortable feel of something flowing out of you made you shiver.
“Where are you going,” he asked in Korean. His tone whiney and you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at him over your bare shoulder. His eyes were big and a small frown decorated his lips. He was too cute to handle.
You planted a kiss on his frown before you turned back to the edge of the bed to press your legs together. Maybe it would stop the ejaculate.
“I need to shower,” you reasoned, bracing yourself, knowing you would have to run to the restroom if you wanted to avoid having to mop the floor again.
“Can’t we cuddle for a little while,” Namjoon begged but you just shook your head dreading what you knew was to come.
“After we shower, yeah.”
You felt him sit up behind you. He gently kissed your shoulder and wrapped his strong…muscular…arms…
You blinked at his muscles around you like a deer in headlights but shook your head. You could still feel how tired your muscles were from what you had just done. You couldn’t do it this soon again.
“Can I at least shower with you,” he asked, nuzzling into the back of your neck.
“Yes, of course,” you said, reaching behind yourself and scratching his head. You felt him, rather than saw him, relax against your back and you smiled.
“Are you less stressed,” he asked you and you sighed.
“I feel alright, Joonie. Could you tell I was really stressed?”
You turned to look at him. He had a knowing smirk on his face that made your blood boil and embarrassment pool in your belly. He grazed his lips over the damp skin that spanned under his finger and when he spoke, it was against the nerves on your body that stood on end for him.
“You talk in your sleep sometimes,” he said matter-of-factly. You sighed. Given away by your subconscious.
“Oh.”
“Besides, I have been watching you grade papers. You get this cute little fold between your eyebrows when you’re thinking too hard,” he rested a finger against your forehead where he indicated and massaged it in little circles. You let your shoulders fall. Who did you think you were kidding?
“I see… well I’m feeling a little better. Hopefully I can get some ideas to get my students to be more interested now that I’m not so wound up.”
“You’re a fantastic teacher,” Namjoon reasoned stroking your slightly messy hair, “you’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah… I know you’re right,” you sighed letting a comfortable silence fall between you. Your brain was buzzing once again but this time it wasn’t stressful. It was with ideas for your classroom. You smiled, feeling a weight being lifted from your shoulders.
“I’m sure I’ll come up with something,” you shifted the conversation, “what about you? Any sudden inspiration for your lyrics?”
He didn’t speak and his chest tensed behind you. You felt like you had popped the bubble you were in. you should have kept your mouth shut.
“Yes actually,” he said but it didn’t feel directed at you. Within seconds, he’d let go of your body and was up, pulling on his boxers and looking for his phone. He frantically pulled up the notes app on it and typed furiously.
The shock quickly melted into amusement. You giggled at how his fingers slid over the glass screen. His focus on his cell.
“Well I’m glad I could help,” you said, finally standing up. you felt the liquid inside you shift and with a panicked last look at your inspired boyfriend, you ran to the restroom on the first floor.
“I’ll be in the shower. Have fun writing,” you yelled.
You thought you heard him say something but it was too muffled for you to understand. You didn’t wait for him to meet you in the bathroom. Instead, you jumped in,washing between your legs thoroughly and scrubbing your skin. When you were done, Namjoon was sitting on the floor of the living room. His laptop, journal and phone spread out on the coffee table. He had his airpods in and he was bobbing his head to something you couldn’t hear.
You didn’t interrupt. Instead you looked over his makeshift workstation and smiled. His journal was turned to one of the pages of lyrics that he’d been stuck on for months. Fresh ink rested on the browning lines and my heart soared. Turned out that our bad moods and mutual slumps were directly related to our lack of sexual life. Duly noting that fact, I kissed the top of his head and made my way back upstairs to get my bed sheets to wash, a smile plastered on my lips.
#kim namjoon smut#kim namjoon#kim namjoon imagine#bts#namjoon x reader#namjoon fluff#namjoon fluff smut
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Characters and Background
TW FOR THE FOLLOWING: abuse, obsession, stalking, kidnapping, police, panic attacks, implied torture, gun use
Read with caution!
Ben Rosenbloom
-21
-Chloe’s twin brother
-5’10”
-short brown hair, curly
-green eyes
-jewish
-freckles
-very average body type
-not very strong
-gay (only Chloe knows, too afraid to tell parents)
-insecure of his strength and masculinity because of being constantly compared to his older brother Marcus (25)
-parents had an authoritarian style of parenting, clearly favoring Marcus over the twins
-did very well in school but never good enough to impress his parents since he and Chloe were always overlooked
-USED TO love to sing, grew to hate it for reasons*
Chloe Rosenbloom
-21
-Ben’s twin sister
-5’3”
-light brown wavy hair, slightly longer than shoulder length
-green eyes
-jewish
-freckles
-short but muscular, cares about being active/exercising and tries to encourage Ben to join her
-bi (got outed to parents by Marcus, parents were confused and not very accepting)
-more confident than Ben but more afraid of her parents than Ben
-less academically adept than Ben, got bs and cs in school but didn’t really care since she was so proud of Ben
Ben and Chloe are very close and look out for each other a lot. Chloe helps Ben out in physical situations, from helping lift things to fighting off Marcus. Ben helps Chloe out with academic and social situations, like doing homework and getting her girlfriend, Joy.
Aaron Walker
-25
-friend of Marcus
-rich white boy energy
-6’1”
-blonde wavy hair, almost shoulder length
-blue eyes
-christian
-gym guy, he’s ripped :/
-bi
-honestly a pretty bad person
Aaron was friends with Marcus in high school when Chloe and Ben were in middle school. He started going to the Rosenbloom’s house more and more to study the twins more, and eventually became obsessed with them, ESPECIALLY Ben. In a very creepy way. He had a weird desire to hurt him and…yknow corrupt him in gross ways. He would try to get close to Ben and Chloe while he was over at their house with Marcus, but the twins just thought he was creepy and didn’t pay him any attention.
Marcus Rosenbloom
-25
-Ben and Chloe’s older brother
-6 feet
-short dark brown hair, facial hair, glasses
-brown eyes
-jewish
-kinda buff, not as strong as Aaron
-straight
-pretty much just as good in school as Ben, but got praised because he’s the oldest and he did it all first
-verbally (and sometimes physically) abusive to both twins, more so to Ben, which is ignored/overlooked by the parents due to favoritism
-only friends with Aaron for his money and lost touch with him after graduation. Didn’t stop Aaron tho
Ethan Jung
-22
-Ben’s boyfriend (met after escape)
-5′9″
-spiky black short hair
-brown eyes
-korean
-christian
-fairly skinny, relates to Ben abt being kinda physically weak
-gay (out to his family/most people around him, very confident)
-himbo but not the strong kind, literally everything else is accurate tho
-got mentally and physically abused by his previous boyfriend Cole and broke up with him shortly after meeting Ben. realized he could do better, and better was right in front of him
-finds out about ben’s past after accidentally touching one of his trigger spots (jawline), feels terrible about sending him into a panic attack. chloe is there and helps ben explain everything to him.
Joy Foster
-21
-chloe’s girlfriend
-5’7”
-black curly hair, most commonly worn in buns
-brown eyes
-african american
-christian, raised very religious and is still fairly religious herself, but not as much as her family
-taller than chloe by 5 inches and pretty active, excercises with chloe a lot
-trans lesbian (parents not very accepting of her initially but learned to love her over time, began her transition at 11 years)
-very confident and outgoing, has a great fashion sense and tries to makeover chloe and ben all the time (to their dismay)
-family is very wealthy, which contributes to how she was able to get a private jet to help ben and chloe with their first escape
Background to the main story
After Ben and Chloe graduated high school (Chloe took a gap year and Ben went off to a local college), Aaron stalked the two of them and planned out a scheme to get Ben all to himself. He reconnected with Marcus and paid him a large sum of money to make sure Chloe didn’t interfere. Marcus ended up becoming a police officer, so he was also paid to keep quiet about any questions about them missing and halt any investigation. Kidnapping Ben was fairly easy for Aaron, and he locked him up in an isolated cabin he bought a few years back for his plan. Marcus blackmailed Chloe after Ben’s capture. He told her he’d have Ben killed if she answered her phone, called the police, or told anyone anything. Chloe was eventually forced to live with Marcus so he could keep track of her, and was not allowed to get a job or use her phone. She was also forced to completely cut contact with Joy. Chloe plans in secret to help Ben in any way she can.
After Ben’s capture, Chloe’s plan goes into motion. She knew where her phone was hidden, but she had to wait for Marcus to finally go back to work. This took a whole month of waiting, but it was also time to gain Marcus’s trust. The day he finally went back to work in person, she snuck into Marcus’s room and found her phone. With a quick find my iPhone search, she knew Ben’s location. Another day when Marcus was at work, Chloe finally snuck out and found her brother. She was inevitably captured by Aaron and was captive alongside Ben for a short while. She tried fighting back, but she wasn’t strong enough for him. Ben had gained Aaron’s trust at that point and obeyed every one of Aaron’s commands, but he would still worry about Chloe. He would ask Aaron to hurt him in place of her often. Chloe thought he was truly gone until he snapped and shot Aaron off guard. Though Aaron did not die, the twins took the time to run to a different state, hide, and recover.
*One day in Ben’s senior year of high school (he was 18 at the time), he was singing in his room alone with headphones on. Loudly and confidently, like no one could hear him. But little did he know, Aaron was watching him, leaning on the doorframe. “I didn’t know you could sing, Benny.” Aaron’s voice took Ben out of his trance and he was terrified to see Aaron standing there, lust in his eyes, and…a hand in his pants. Aaron winked. “Thanks for the show.” Ben never sang again after that.
#whump blog#whump community#whump#tw kidnapping#tw stalking#tw gun use#tw panic attack#tw abuse#ben#aaron#chloe#joy#marcus#ethan#whumper#whumpee#caretaker#abc writing
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This Ain't a Scene Its a Goddamn Drag Race
~Part Two~
Castiel woke up the next morning to the sound of the show's security guys stationed in the hallways changing shifts. He tried to block out the sound of their chit-chatting by burying his face in his pillow, but ultimately failed when they burst into raucous laughter right outside his doorway. With a groan he dragged himself out of bed and towards the bathroom; might as well get a run in before the production staff descended on them so they could film the reaction shots to last night’s elimination.
There wasn’t much about being on a reality show that Castiel would call ‘glamorous’, but filming the practically scripted confessional segments after each elimination and mini-challenge was probably the most degrading thing that Castiel had ever done in his entire life. And he’d once been talked into ripping open bags of trash all over himself during a show by his drag mother. Needless to say, performance art and lying to the public at large were not his favorite activities.
He’d gotten into a huge fight with one of the producers early on about how staged some of the things on the show were and it was probably why he’d been struggling his way up from the bottom since the very first episode. But luckily Gabby was very adamant about preserving what he called “the integrity of the process” and basically ignored the producers when they tried to steer him towards favoring a certain contestant.
That didn’t mean that the host was around all the time so the execs still got their dose of drama to satiate the audience, regardless of whether the rivalries between the queens were genuine or not. In actuality, Castiel liked most of the others, even Luc and Michael at times had been funny when the cameras were off, but he wasn’t about to delude himself into thinking they were best buddies. Not even Balthazar who had quite obviously been flirting with him the night before right in front of Charlie, one of the less anal PAs, who had been assigned to watch them for the evening. And definitely not Kevin who only lived an hour away in Olympia and treated him like the drag mother he’d always wanted.
Not to say it wasn’t tempting, both Balthazar’s lasciviousness and Kevin’s overtures of friendship, but Castiel wasn’t going to be the next Willam or Latrice Royale; being a slut and a saint hadn’t gotten either of those two queens the crown. And that was what all of this was about, right?
He was plagued by these thoughts as he headed down to the hotel’s indoor gym and put a couple of miles behind him on the treadmill, staring at his own reflection in the mirrors that lined the walls because he wasn’t allowed to turn on the T.V. that was mounted in one corner of the room. Castiel honestly would’ve done it just to spite his contract if he could (because he was dying to find out about some gossip that was centered on anyone besides himself) but Hael, one of the show’s interns, was there with him; ‘keeping an eye on him’ while really tapping away at her phone.
If Hael was a man, Castiel would flirt a little, trail his fingers up the inside of a thigh and BAM! He’d have instant access to being able to call his mom or text his sister or god above, check TMZ. He just knew in his gut that Rihanna had done something since he had been locked up in this rhinestone studded prison for the last month.
But Hael was a woman and even though she eyed his biceps when Castiel was doing half-hearted pushups as part of his cooldown, the thought of whoring himself out for five minutes with an iPhone kinda made him nauseous. Or that could’ve been the mini bottles of vodka he’d been slamming back with Raphael, Kev, and Charlie last night as they’d eaten delivered pizza in Kevin’s hotel suite. Balthazar had stuck to nursing a beer, amused by their antics, but otherwise aloof in the way that Castiel thought only took away from the other man’s attractiveness.
Now that his head was pounding from both his workout and his hangover, Castiel understood why the Brit hadn’t indulged like the rest of them. That strategic, wormy, sexy bastard.
By the time Castiel had made it back to his room, he could see a room service tray being delivered to Luc’s room and another on the floor already outside of Balthazar’s, so at least the other queens were up and about. They’d probably have to leave soon to go back to the studio and Castiel resigned himself to a fast shower and a shave instead of the long, leisurely one he’d intended to jerk off in.
Whatever, he’d just do it later.
Today they’d just be shooting reaction scenes based on last night’s elimination and doing the mini-challenge which wasn’t exhausting, but they never knew what the mini-challenge was going to be so you definitely had to have your wits about you. Castiel definitely did not have much of anything about him at the moment, but he planned on phoning it in for the mini-challenge since it wasn’t likely to affect him too much if he lost whatever little advantage the win would get him.
By the time he had finished changing into a well-loved pair of dark wash jeans and a faded black polo shirt and popped his medication, Castiel was already exhausted. So when one of the PAs pounded on his door and called a ten minute warning for him to be ready or else, Castiel just sighed at the dark circles under his eyes and his messy unstyled hair before shrugging and snagging some sunglasses and a baseball cap out of his suitcase and heading out the door with his shoes untied.
Castiel rode in sullen silence with Luc again mostly because he was the last one to make it downstairs to the waiting towncars, but also because he was the only one of the queens who could stand Luc’s morning routine of picking at his fingernails and muttering obscenities under his breath.
As soon as all of the queens were herded into the studio, wardrobe descended on them like a plague of locusts; tugging at their street clothes and strapping mics around their waists until all of the queens were dressed in their ‘confessional outfits’.
When Castiel had finally gotten the official word that he had been chosen as one Drag Race’s contestants, he had been mailed a two inch thick envelope containing a contact that Castiel had signed without even reading, a list of “suggested” items that he needed to bring for the challenges, and instructions to bring at least two to three weeks of casual clothing to include one outfit that would be used for filming purposes.
At the time Castiel hadn’t known that he was going to be parted from his favorite blue cardigan for literal months, not even allowed to take it back to the hotel with him because the wardrobe crew was scared he would spill something on it that they couldn’t get out. If he had, he would have just let them film him in one of his thrift store t-shirts and cut offs. But now he had to wear his most beloved, comfy cardigan along with a grey button down and skinny jeans two to three times a week, every week, to record his thoughts about the competition’s goings-ons.
The wardrobe crew didn't ever mess with his hair and they mostly didn’t bother putting makeup on any of them unless they looked REALLY rough, but most importantly, the outfits never ever changed. Today, Castiel got some concealer for the bags under his eyes and blush for the pallor that had settled over him due to his hangover.
It took Kevin an embarrassingly long time to understand that the reason behind wearing the same outfit for every confessional was because the producers wanted to splice footage from different days together so that they could create drama by taking things out of context. Castiel had no illusions about the fact that he probably looked like an asshole to most of America right now based on some of the things he had said during confessionals. A witty asshole with a penchant for lighting-fast one liners, but a dick nonetheless.
Castiel was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as they set up the footage for him from the last few days, everything from the main challenge to the elimination runway to the behind the scenes or “Untucked” bits where they forced watered-down cocktails into the queens’ hands and then had them be gossipy bitches or start catfights. If the producers were feeling particularly sadistic they would get one of the contestant's homophobic family members to record a heartfelt, ‘private’ message that would then be played in front of everyone.
It was voyeuristic in probably the worst possible way and Castiel had decided that he would sooner get his wig snatched off by being shady than cry off his makeup if they managed to get his estranged father to apologize for calling Castiel a ‘fucking f*ggot’ when he was ten and had caught him with purple nail polish on after having a friend over to play.
He usually just read people during the Untucked segments and so far that’s what he had been doing during the confessionals as well; the camera girls seemed to think he was funny and the producers hadn’t caught on that the Drag Race version of Holly Cummunion was a sarcastic, shady act so he’d keep it up until Gabby or someone else called him on his shit. This week though, he had been uncharacteristically honest- probably because he was tired.
He even complimented Luc’s runway outfit for Christ’s sakes so he must have been feeling extra charitable.
The only good thing about filming the confessional scenes was that nothing else was being filmed at the same time. It meant that at least three of the queens could be filmed doing confessionals all at once because it’s not like the cameras were busy filming anything else. With so few queens left they finished filming everything by lunchtime and after a quick change back to their street clothes and a stop by craft services the queens were scattered casually around the workroom by the production assistants and then left to wait until Gabby showed up.
One time the host had arrived an hour late with Starbucks and a hickey the size of a mid-sized principality on the underside of his jaw. The queens had shared amused looks before going on to do the funnest mini-challenge of the season so far; a matching game that used the butts of the Pit Crew as cards. Castiel suspected that he hadn’t been the only queen flustered by the glistening abs and generous bulges of the Pit Crew in their speedos, but for the sake of Sam and Zeke (Gabby’s two regular Pit Crew men who’d, of course, participated in the challenge as well) Castiel had tried his best not to ogle too much even though he was going through the driest, dry spell of the century.
After being allowed back into his comfy polo and jeans by wardrobe, Castiel let himself be placed at one of the workroom tables with Raphael who was filing his fingernails in the most bored way possible. Castiel kept his sunglasses hooked into the collar of his shirt just in case the studio lights made his already throbbing head any worse, but after glancing in a mirror he decided his hair was fucked no matter what he did so he discarded his ball cap on top of his makeup case and let it be free.
The production assistants were distracted by last minute adjustments so Castiel snuck a glance at Charlie, who was coaxing Kevin and Luc into sharing a mirror since they were both plucking their eyebrows, before he quickly fetched one of his styling heads; the one sporting the ratted up platinum blonde wig that Castiel had styled for the white-trash chic challenge a couple weeks before. He planned on using whatever downtime he had to finally brush the snarls out so he could use it again for something else.
“Alright guys, everyone good?” Charlie asked, doing a thumbs up around the room as she tugged the headphones that she usually wore while filming back onto her ears. “Great, Gabe should be here in five so you all know the drill. Chat, look busy, just act natural.”
Raphael let out a derisive little scoff under his breath but otherwise continued shaping his fingernails and acting like Castiel didn’t exist. But that was pretty natural so Castiel didn’t bother questioning it, instead choosing to joke loudly with Balthazar from across the room about what the upcoming challenge could possibly be.
“Maybe Gabby’s interested in checking out the tightness of our tuck,” Balthazar quipped, winking in Kevin’s direction when the younger queen started giggling.
“Oh, well bless Connie for leaving then,” Castiel replied, referring to another queen, Connie Lingus, who had bowed out of the competition due to medical issues. “That girl had the meatiest tuck I’d ever seen.”
“Well, did you ever see her dragged down?” Raphael interjected, still focused on his nails. “Gave the phrase ‘hung like a horse’ a whole new meaning, baby.”
“I think Gabby has more important things to worry about than our tucks,” Luc drawled in a bored, disinterested kinda way.
He was making conversation to get air time and all the assembled queens knew it; Castiel just barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes and that was only because there was a cameraman hovering at his elbow as he brushed out his wig.
“Hells yea she does,” Kevin piped leaning back from the mirror to smooth down both of his eyebrows with a critical gaze on his reflection. “Like check out the tightness of the Pit Crew! Can I get an ay-men!?”
All the girls let out an ay-men, some less enthusiastically than others, but it happened to coincide perfectly with the now tell-tale sign of Gabby’s impending arrival. Well, it probably wasn't a coincidence, nothing about TV ever was.
‘Ooooh, gurl!’ The hidden speakers in the workroom blared to life with the sign for Gabby’s message that would contain a hint about the upcoming elimination challenge. ‘You’ve got she-male!’
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»the moon, the sun
↳ ex-best-friends to lovers au | college athletes au
pairing » jeon jungkook | reader
genre » big angst + fluff + sexual themes
word count » 11.770
» there’s not a single thing you like about jungkook. no. not his jokes or his thinly veiled overwatch obsession or his supreme swimmers body. absolutely nothing. there is, however, a multitude of things you hate. wait, sorry that was rude, vehemently despise is better.
» mutual pining that could've been resolved if either of them exercised some basic communication skills lol, mild coarse language, lots of angst, cocky jjk but also crack jjk??, gamer memes, poufy haired jjk, also supposed hate-love relationship.
YOU ARRIVE AT THE SWIM CENTER WITH A THROB in your knee and a resounding ache in your head. It felt like your brain was about to explode into a thousand gory pieces as you pushed open the wide frost-tinted glass double doors that led to the locker rooms.
Now that would have been a great start to a low-budget horror flick. You could just picture it, a lonesome girl? No… Woman? At twenty, you weren’t sure if you still qualified as a girl but the term woman felt too formal, too stifling, too mature to be attributed to you. But whatever, that was semantics you could spare for another day.
So, there you’d be; creeping into a university swim center at the ass-crack of dawn and then bam! Your brain impedes on itself. Maybe it’s because of some mutant phenomenal viral disease, maybe it’s repercussions from tempering with a portal to the paranormal realm that only exists in semi-open pool arenas. Whatever it was, it would have to be epic and a far cry from the truth. Which was, you were used to indescribable, continuous pain. It came with the territory of being an athlete. If you didn’t wake up in the morning with some part of your body feeling uncomfortably off then that just meant you didn’t try as hard the day before. Or at the very least, that’s what you told yourself to keep going.
Yawning, you punched in your locker code and began the mental and physical process of getting ready for the next three hours of practice before break. You usually where the first one in the building and the last one to leave if you didn’t have classes or work.
Swimming made you feel good, made you feel like there was something special about yourself. It didn’t help that the more you practiced, the more you were able to outpace everyone else. Practice birthed results and your stubbornness, wait no, competitiveness was off the charts. So, of course, you wanted to dominate every single athlete in your division.
Still though, waking up at four in the morning had to be the singular dumbest thought you’d ever conceived.
Once you were suited up, you padded back into the arena that held the huge industrial sized swim pool. The overpowering smell of chlorine and humid air made you feel more at home than the dormitory you’d just left less than thirty minutes ago. You honestly might’ve started crying right then and there at the sight of the crystal clear water and the humongous life-sized painting of an unknown swimmer in the midst of a beautiful breaststroke at the center of it all.
Today was after all the first day of the semester. Your collegiate swimming career was finally back on. Your lips twinged at the sight of the polished, tiled floor and how it felt cool under the soles of your feet.
You’d gone back home for winter break and although you’d kept up with the training regime your coach had persistently emailed out, there was just something fundamentally different about being back on your own turf. In fact, you were fairly sure a few tears slipped past your barriers and hooked at the corners of your eyes at the thought. Only to be blasted into near oblivion by the sound of a phone camera going snap snap.
You whipped your head to the direction of the camera like a person possessed. “What the fuck?”
“Oh, My Zelda. This is glorious.” The goddamn stalker, wait he wasn’t a stalker if he was a member of the swim team. Right, the goddamn fiend had the guts and audacity to say with an open-mouthed grin marring his face. “You’re actually crying. There are literally tears in your eyes. I can see ‘em.”
“Screw off, Jeon.”
Him. The only other person dumb enough to be at the swimming center at five am. A full hour before the scheduled practice time. God, how long had he been watching you? And to think he even had time to whip out his phone and document this moment. You were never gonna live it down, that was for sure. You? Crying? Over – you took a grand look around your surroundings – water?
“It was only three weeks, you know. You wouldn’t die if you didn’t swim for a month or two.” He still found the whole scenario funny, if the laughter in his voice was any indication.
“Coming from someone that I doubt showers even once every three days? Yeah, I’ll pass on that lecture.”
“Ooh, a solid burn from the Ice Queen,” he clutched a hand to his chest like he’d been shot with a bazooka or something. Dramatic. “That one hurts my ego immensely.”
You snorted. It was debatable if anything could seriously damage Jeon Jungkook’s ego. That shit was built with solid uranium. No matter how you tried to smash it. He was his own number one supporter and he’d built himself up in his head that he was the greatest at whatever he laid his hands on. At that moment, however, you wanted to snatch the iPhone out of those deft hands of his and dig a well through his head with it. Couldn’t he go be great somewhere else?
Instead of replying and subsequently dragging out this conversation longer than necessary, you busied yourself with adjusting your swim cap and bringing your goggles to rest on the bridge of your nose.
It didn’t matter that Jungkook was here. It didn’t bother you one bit. It’s not like it was abnormal. You’d known him longer than you’d known anybody so of course you were used to his presence. Although you didn’t particularly like the fact that you’d known him almost your whole life. Or the fact that your body prickled with awareness every time he stepped into the nearest vicinity. You couldn’t control that. What you could control though, was how you felt about it.
And right now, you hated him. Wait, no hate was too strong a word, perhaps vehemently despise was more fitting.
You make your way to lane five, take a deep breath to calm your nerves and then dunk yourself into the ice cold water. Better to get it over with than squirm around the edges with him around. For Zelda’s sake, he has his phone camera on standby!
Yeah okay, you didn’t hate Jeon Jungkook; the son of a family friend that lived on the other side of the cul de sac. Instead, you vehemently despised the boy that was a walking, talking human critic. You bite your lip ferociously in a bid to punish the thought of Jungkook out of your mind. After a second or maybe three, you push into the water.
“Your shoulders look tense from up here... you’re so not gonna perform well if you don’t stretch that baby out.”
That’s the first thing you hear other than the rushing of water leaving your ears as your face breaks out against the surface of the pool. You jerk your goggles off your eyes, look up and scowl at him. Mr. I-Should-Basically-Be-A-Coach-With-All-These-Pointers-I-Give.
“I am not tense.”
“Yeah, no. You don’t have to lie about that. I could legit see your muscles almost cramping up down there.”
“Are you really going to stand up there and pretend we have some kind of mentor-mentee relationship going on? Seriously? It’s five in the morning, Jeon.”
You could clearly see the wheels in his head turning and then zeroing in on the one word you shouldn’t have said. Relationship. Gah, you need a chastity belt for your lips. His eyes basically sparkle with rays of mischief and a dash of mastered superiority. “Well, I am seven months older, so when you think about it that way it’s only natural that I take you under my wing and —”
“I swear to you, I will physically break your knee caps —”
“Wait,” he looks genuinely confused, perfect lips pouting. “What do you mean by physically? Is there any other way to break a knee?”
Ugh! You stare at him and he stares right back, cocking his head to the side like he can do this all day. You want to scream, hell maybe even shapeshift into a fucking banshee and scream the roof off this building.
And then his mouth curves into a roguish smirk. The type he reveals when he manages to squeak by a better time than you or like that one time (okay maybe five?) that he got randomly stopped by some modeling agency recruiter when your parents had forced the two of you to carpool to swim meets back when you were a tad younger and he was the only one with a car. The smirk that just screams ‘I’m getting under your skin, aren’t I? And dude, it feels fan-fucking-tastic.’
“Get a life, Jeon. Or better yet, get in the water. It’s only been three weeks, no way you suck even worse than usual after that. I mean, by fuck, it hasn’t even been a month!” You twist his words back at him and then feel proud about it. So what, you are competitive and you hold grudges. There could be worse things.
His smirk deepened and okay, you won’t lie to yourself. He is attractive. Critically so. It would be hard not to notice that. It’s a continual and conscious effort to even attempt to un-notice it. But still, moments like these when the fluorescent lights beamed on his face at just the right angle and the shadows cut across his features and illuminated his golden skin to the heavens, boosting his overall aura like he was some sort of reincarnated god of beauty. Or worse, a Final Boss that you had to most certainly defeat. It became increasingly hard not to notice how much he affected you and your breathing.
Yeah, it’s in these moments that your better judgement faults and for a split second you are transported to that one November night in the middle of eleventh grade when fuck no! Absolutely not! You refuse to walk that horrendous trip down memory lane and relive one of the most humiliating, and this is coming from a girl that threw up because of nerves in front of judges at a talent show, experiences of your life. This was not the time.
“Your shoulders are still stiff as a board. Tell me, child, have you gotten laid recently?”
You let out the most frustrated sound of agony you could muster. You’re going to murder him. Forget you being the star in some crazy horror film, you were going to be the director. And you were gonna serve up a mean case of Deck Jungkook’s Ass With Supernatural Intervention as the main course. Maybe you’d win an Oscar for it. Heck, maybe you’d get a home run and even win Best Picture.
He chuckles like he’s cracked the greatest joke since Netflix Original Films. You’re too busy orchestrating a slugfest in your head to really pay attention. “I’ll take that as a negative.”
You barely manage to spit out a dignified response. “One of these days I’m going to seriously maim you.”
“Tsk tsk, you and your threatening bodily harm tendencies. I wonder if that’s like a kink thing?” He asks as he taps his chin with his forefinger and squats down to a level that is closer to you. His dark brown hair that looks almost a shade of black sways like a river to his beat. This is much better, it hurt your neck staring up at him like he was some guardian deity.
But the action happens to highlight the ridiculous tightening of his abs. The abs you’ve painstakingly not ogled at because they are sculpted beauties. Hell, you’ve yet to meet a swimmer's body that isn’t the epitome of fitness but Jungkook’s is different. He is carved. Probably why you don’t like looking at it, stare too much and he might notice and of course, you wouldn’t want that happening.
“Jeon?”
“Hmm?” He sounds so innocent. The liar.
“Shut up before I drown you. I don’t care how long you can hold your breath. I will send you down to hell personally.”
He wiggled his eyebrows like the concept of hell was all he’d ever wanted to discuss in life. “Does that mean you’d be coming with? Fascinating. Let’s make a road trip out of it. Maybe you’ll even find some demons down to fuck all that tension out of your body. You know, DDTF. Get your exophilia on, if that’s your thing.”
Exo-what?
Beat. He’s beaten you at your own game. How the heck are you supposed to reply something snarky when all he ever does is blow the thing to epic proportions and have you running in circles. This is why the best strategy was just to simply ignore him.
You shoot him one last look that you hope is as menacing as it ought to be. You yank your goggles from resting on your forehead and dunk them in the water to get the fog out. Placing it back gingerly across your eyes, you let take in a soothing breath.
“I am serene. I am calm. There is nothing around me in existence that bothers me. I am the pinnacle of collected.” You refrain from adding tense-free.
There’s no way you’re tense after running the three and a half miles between your dorm and the swim center. You repeat the words aloud twice before you actually believe them. And then you tear back into the water. You still have roughly thirty minutes before the rest of the team comes in for practice. You’ll be damned spending all your time talking to the fool with shaggy hair and a crooked smile that made you want to burn something.
The only sound other than the whoosh in your ears and the rapid pumping of your heart as you exert yourself is the uncanny, blistering laughter of Jeon Jungkook. At least someone was enjoying your torment.
You swore at that moment that you were going to deck him someday. Even if it was the last thing you ever did. Maybe not even physically, gah, but you were going to get a time so fast, so unbelievably better that Jungkook would be dumbstruck in awe and lagging to catch up. You grin at the thought.
By the time practice comes to an end, your knee has migrated from a troublesome ache to a colossal titan. Dragging your body out of the water proves to be much a greater task that you previously took for granted. You try and fail to hold back your groans as you attempt to not limp back to the locker rooms and take a shower. Also, you need a painkiller stat.
The coach is too busy being circled by the hyena pack that is freshmen to really pay any attention to you. However, you know better than to think you’ve slipped past his radar. He’s definitely going to catch you sometime later to rim your ass for going too hard the first day of the semester. You guess that makes him a great coach in the grand scheme of things but you’d rather he let you be.
“Your knee acting up again?” Your lane buddy and a veteran senior in the program, Seokjin asks as he saddles up next to you and rips the navy blue swim cap off his head. You fear a little bit for his hair. “I thought doc cleared it?”
You sigh, not really wanting to remember last year when the university-affiliated doctor told you that you needed to take three months off swimming to heal and you’d barely lasted two weeks without going insane. You shiver at the horror of it all as you wrap your Legend of Zelda limited edition Link towel around your dripping body.
“Yeah, he did.” You send him a smile that comes off like a wince and then you give up on trying to downplay the pain altogether. “Guess it’s just not doing so hot today.”
Seokjin nods solemnly like he understands. “Some days are worse than others. I get that.”
“It be like that. I’ll be fine.”
“Do you think you’d be set for March though? Coach’s probably going to start analyzing his final picks for the comp.”
Ugh, Goddess of the Sea take me now! The National Collegiate Swim Competition is an annual event held every March and even though you’d made the cut as a naïve freshman, a knee injury caused you to be sidelined in your second year. But now though, you have to get on the final lineup. An absolute must.
Your cold heart won’t take it to be on the stands watching your teammates accomplish something you dreamed of. Something you’d worked and sacrificed so much for. You won’t stand to watch Jungkook rub it in your face how he’d come in a mere 0.6 seconds away from the first position. And you definitely won’t stand to have another year put on hold when your dream is literally right in front of you.
You bite out a laugh that sounds foreign even to your own ears. God, your knee is killing you. “You know what they say about pain.”
Seokjin gives you a quizzical look. Like he, in fact, has no idea what you mean. And you’re about to launch into a tirade about exercise mottos when you feel a tall presence step up behind you. You don’t even have to turn around to know it’s him. Of course, it’s him. Who else would encroach in on your personal space without a second thought?
“She means she’s gonna push through her limping and her tense as fuck shoulders and pull a win out of her ass. Don’t you,” the way he says your name is so patronizing, so unbelievably condescending that you whip your head up to glare at him.
“That’s impossible. If anyone knows how to take care of their body and not push their limits to insanity it’s Y/N.” Seokjin appears appalled that Jungkook would even think of such a thing. But Jungkook knows you better than anyone, albeit hatefully.
“Mm-hm. You doubt how crazy obsessed she is with winning.”
“Says you,” you spit out but it lacks your usual snark.
In truth, maybe Jungkook was right about your shoulders not being as stretched out as they should’ve been. They feel sore and they almost gave out on you during a lap. You were basically running on guts and mental fortitude for the last four laps. But you’d rather swallow butcher knives than admit that aloud for his ears to hear.
Seokjin is oblivious to the simmering tension between the two of you. Instead, he turns to you with so much concern sweeping through his posture it makes you uncomfortable and yet happy at the same time. “Take care of yourself, Y/N. There’s no point in winning if your body crashes on you, yeah?”
You know he means well and it’s not like you like lying to your senior but you know he just won’t get where you’re coming from. “Yeah,” you stare down at the suddenly interesting aqua-tiled floor.
He pats your shoulder once before he turns down the other way to the male locker rooms leaving you and Jungkook alone. You’re about to go on your own merry way — agonizingly slow of course, when a hand latches to your upper arm and stops you.
You swear you shouldn’t feel anything but your skin almost scorches at the contact. Your brain is divided: a part of you wants him to never let go, while the other half can’t get away from him fast enough. You don’t breathe, heck you don’t even move.
“Winning isn’t everything.”
You don’t mean to — truly, you don’t — but a scoff slips out of your lips before you even register it. “Coming from the golden boy that basically has a clear shot at making the lineup? Yeah, I won’t drink to that anytime soon.”
Jungkook uses his free hand to run through his hair like a maniac. And you entertain the idea that perhaps you really do get under his skin as much as he does you. The thought elates you and dilutes the throbbing in your knee to a lesser degree. He’s your biggest tormentor and you can only dream to be the same thing for him. Equivalent exchange and all that jazz.
He clicks his tongue at you and somehow that infuriates you even more. “You know what? Do whatever you want. Ruin your body for all I care.” He lets go of your arm like it’d be painful to hold it any longer. He pulls at the towel he has around his shoulders so hard that even you feel the burn and then he drapes it over his head, effectively blocking you out.
A forgotten part of you wonders why he’s so concerned about your body anyway. It’s not like he should care at all.
The two of you aren’t friends. Once upon a time that wasn’t the case but you aren’t one to cry over spilled milk much less bemoan over it. But it still rubs you some kind of way that Jungkook thinks it’s normal to voice his concern to you. The two of you are not close like that. At least, not anymore.
You scowl to yourself as you weave your way back to the locker room. You’re not much of a talker but you wave back at a few of the girls that bother to look your way. And spend a good ten minutes talking to a freshman about how she needs to stop holding her breath for long periods because all that does is make you dizzy and liable to pass out. After all that, it’s no wonder that you’re the last one out of the showers.
Tugging your baby blue beanie tight across your forehead, you curse yourself for forgetting to pack your knee brace when you left your dorm this morning. But whatever, you’ll push through it. You always do.
What you’re not expecting is to see a lithe body resting on the bench right outside the swim center. And it strikes you as odd that you immediately know in your gut that it’s Jungkook. Even though you’re too chicken now to admit it, there was a time when you’d engraved his whole body into your mind like he was a science project you were desperately in need of completing. Although his body has since gained more muscle mass and reduced way more body fat, it’s still him. No matter how hard you try to burn him out of your memory, he never leaves. You fear your only remedy might be self-induced amnesia.
What you’re not expecting is for that body clad snugly in black sweatpants, a really oversized navy sweatshirt that has ‘I AM NOT GONNA BE MERCY’ branded in fine print across his chest, and a beanie that suspiciously matches the one on your own head, to turn up and catch your gaze like he knows you’ve been staring.
You blink once and then twice and then once more just to be sure. Weird. You have no idea why he’s waiting out here and you’re even more confused as to why he owns a beanie that looks way too much like yours to be a coincidence. You shift your gaze to the sidewalk, debating if it’s worth it to strike a conversation with him. All it will do is leave you irritated, so you decide to continue to your dorm instead. Screw him and whatever he’s out in this cold as shit weather for.
“What? You’re just gonna ignore me now?”
Huffing, you pretend he’s not matching his strides to your sluggish pace.
“This is cold, even for you.”
Maybe if you keep quiet he’ll think you’ve gone magically inept in the span of forty minutes?
“You know I thought I was doing a good thing by waiting for you.”
That gets you to break your mental battle. “I didn’t ask you to do that, Jeon.”
“I know that. But what if you slid across the pavement and went straight to the dimension of hell? I have to be there for that.” He sounds genuinely invested in the matter at hand.
“I can still walk perfectly fine, thank you very much.” You almost smack your head dead against the stoned ground when your foot snags a loose edge of the sidewalk. Fuck.
“Pfft.” He’s barely holding in his laughter but you don’t cower. Har-dee-har-har. You don’t need him breathing down your neck thinking he’s doing you a favor or anything.
You don’t need pity parties hosted by Jeon Jungkook. Not again. Not after that one night that you thought was perfect and monumental when in reality all it really was a blip in his radar. You’re nothing special, or at least Jungkook thought so. It’s been years since then but that’s the funny thing about pain. It doesn’t just die down because you refuse to think about it. It simmers, it boils, it festers. Pain is a living, breathing monster and simply because you don’t devote time to it doesn’t mean it’s not taking up space under your bed.
But you are not going to think about it. Because you are definitely over it. Yep. That was it. You are over your ex-best friend and you are happy... Bah, what-fucking-ever.
Maybe he realizes that you’re not in the mood for the snark he would normally throw your way because the walk back to your dorm is relatively quiet after that. This is the most civil the two of you have been in a long while. Most of times the both of you are too busy making jabs at each other. But you’d noticed that ever since your accident last year that busted your knee, he’s been different.
You’ve yet to decide if that difference is for good or bad but it doesn’t matter because you’re back at your dormitory which means you get to sleep the rest of the day before work. Yes, maybe there is a God.
“Look, take care of yourself, okay?”
You stop on the stone steps to take him in. His hands stuffed deep in his pockets, the January chill making the tip of his nose bright red but his eyes don’t hold the same mischievous fight as before. He’s determined. You know him well enough to know that.
“I’m not going to die climbing up some stupid stairs.”
He shakes his head. Guess he’s not up for jokes then. “I mean it,” he breathes your name out with so much seriousness it stuns you. “You can be cruel to me. You can be angry at me. But don’t take it out on your body. Just... don’t.”
What does he know about cruelty? He knows not jack shit about cruelty. Cruelty was a seventeen-year-old girl waxing poetic love to a boy that she thought hung the moon, the stars and the sun only for him to trample over it just because. Maybe it was the hormones, maybe it was the timing, maybe it was every fucking thing in between but that night had been a changing point. Horror movies weren’t half as scary as being rejected by your best friend since before you were five and not know why. Cruelty was not whatever this limbo you and Jungkook had. You’d experienced cruelty and that was far worse.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do. Not then and certainly not now.”
Pushing your body to its limits is something you have to do. Getting better at swimming is something you would die trying to attain. Not because you particularly love swimming all that much but rather because it’s the one thing, the only thing that you really do believe you can beat Jungkook in. The only thing you can compete with him and with hard work win. You have to win. You can’t stand being second place next to him. It makes you want to gag. It makes you revert back to that seventeen-year-old girl you thought you’d killed off in your origin story.
Pathetic, you think to yourself. But you won’t stop because you’ve already come so far.
You rush up the stairs and into the dorm like lightning. You’re so quick that you don’t even feel any twinge of pain ricocheting from your knee or anywhere else to be honest. You’re a running painkiller. You haul ass all the way to your room and it’s only when you’ve locked the door and released the longest sigh of your whole adult life that it hits you.
And here’s another thing about pain: it always comes rushing back.
If it’s even possible, over the next few weeks your knee becomes even worse of a problem. Waking up in the morning becomes more of a drag than usual, you can barely walk to your classes much less the swim center without your brace on and then perform a Mission Impossible skit so that the rest of the team doesn’t see the brace dangling in your locker. You’re seriously considering ripping the whole joint out. For Zelda’s sake, it has to hurt significantly less, right?
To make matters worse you’re basically lying out of your ass to Seokjin and the rest of the team that your knee is not bothering you one bit. You’re such a liar, someone needs to lock you up for it. But it’s already the end of February and you can already taste the end of it all. All you need to do is hold on by the skin of your teeth for the next couple of days and then you’ll be free. Sure, rationally you know you’re not swimming your best right now but that does nothing to deter you from what you’ve set your mind on.
“Hey, Y/N,” the voice of the Student Assistant, Namjoon stops you in your attempt to blend in with the other swim members exiting the building after a rather rough day. “You came in later than usual today. Something up?”
Namjoon is an amazing guy. Attentive but not too overbearing. A great listener but he doesn’t go overboard with trying to get you to confess your deep, darkest fears to him. But even with knowing all of this, you still don’t want to tell him a thing. You know he’ll understand, that’s not the problem. The problem is, he would seriously blow it out of proportion. All you want to do is head home, nap for a good hour or three and then head to your afternoon class and get back to crashing. Was that too much to ask?
“Yeah, I’m great. Just a little tired.”
He raises an eyebrow at you, flipping through the sheet on his clipboard. “Hmm, your times been dropping since last week. You sure everything’s fine?”
Fuck. You fumble thinking of an answer, your eyes skittering around the tiled floor till you look up and lock on Jungkook staring right back. He’s a few feet away near the front door discussing with one of the assistant coaches but for some reason, his big, brown eyes are glued to your frame. An inane section of your brain wants to beg him to come over and rescue you from lying so horribly to Namjoon. While another insane part of you wants to sneer at him and tell him to stop freaking looking at you when you’re at your worst.
“I... uh,” you stutter and return your attention back to the kind senior in front of you. “I’m fine. I promise.”
Namjoon cocks an eyebrow at you, disbelieving. “Is it your knee? We could get the team doctor — ”
Your eyes widen in alarm and you stumble away from him, your thoughts passing the point of loudness and encroaching into deafness. No way. There’s no way you’re going to let him bring up your injury and then take it up with the other coaches because you know — deep in your bones — that if he does that you won’t make the cut for the lineup talk less of being able to just attend practice. You’d be kept on the side like an invalid.
Hate.
You hate it. Your stupid knee, the stupid way you were running late to practice almost a full year ago and then proceeded to fall down a flight of stairs and dislocate your knee so bad that when the seasons shift from sunny to cloudy, your knee throbs like an ingrained weather alert.
You hate how much the pain makes you want to cry. You hate yourself for pushing yourself, even more, when you know you shouldn’t. You hate how everyone is so damn concerned about you like you somehow deserve it. You hate that you don’t deserve their kindness, not when every other athlete next to you is getting better and better by the second and you don’t want to be left behind.
“Bro, she’ll be fine.” You don’t realize your savior and yet tormentor has weaseled his way into the conversation until you you hear the soft timbre of his voice. He stands so close to you that you smell the sweet scent of vanilla from his clothes. “I mean, look at her. Her technique is still kicking ass, no one can touch her when it comes to form.”
Lips wobbling a little under the pressure of your teeth, you peer up at him. Your mind running a mile a minute trying to place what his endgame is. Why is he here? What does he think he’s doing?
Namjoon laughs, his features becoming even more stunning with the action and you glance away from Jungkook. There’s no way he bought that blatant form of flattery. “That is true. Y/N has the best technique in the program right now. Probably best in the state.”
Lies. You know there’s talk about some super senior at a neighboring powerhouse school being the best in your division. But your mind is clogged up with your loud thoughts that you don’t say anything to refute his claim.
“Anyways, let me know if you need anything, ‘Kay?” Namjoon demands your attention. “Take it easy and rest up this weekend.”
You nod profusely and Namjoon smiles at the action like your adorable. You frown at that. And then he’s gone and you’re stuck with Jungkook and the thoughts clamoring around in your head.
“I didn’t need you to save me. Or lie for me.”
“Sure,” he says but his eyes say something different. That maybe if you really didn’t want his help you shouldn’t have looked at him like a deer in headlights practically begging the floor to swallow you up. “And I wasn’t lying. You do have a better technique.”
You roll your shoulders, ignoring the praise. “Seriously. I was fine.”
“Fine my ass,” he mutters, pushing past your body and heading outside the door.
“I didn’t need your help and I don’t owe you —” The frigid air whips across your cheeks so hard that you have to stop and close your eyes for a beat. When you peel them back open you find Jungkook looking down at you without something akin to disappointment swimming in his eyes. “What?”
He stares at you for what seems like an eternity. You try not to break away from his gaze but your eyes skittle across his outfit. The beanie on his head that outrageously still looks similar to the one you have on, his grey padded jacket and a similar shade of sweatpants. And by the time your eyes reach back to his face, his focus has diverted to glaring needles at your knee.
“What?” You repeat, this time though you’re whispering like you might not like what he will say next.
“I don’t get it. You of all people know how horrible last year was. Why are you doing this to yourself?”
You suck in a deep breath, not wanting to relive your sophomore year. “Why do you care?”
“Why?” Jungkook practically stutters at the question, his already big doe eyes transforming into the size of craters. “Are you trying to prove something? To who? Me?”
“I don’t care about you, Jeon. And I don’t need to prove any single thing to you. You’re dead to me.”
“You think that by carrying this invisible burden and pushing yourself to the point of borderline insanity you’re going to get better? That you won’t burnout? That somehow you’re going to get back at me? After you’ve ruined your knee and not only ruined your chances at swimming competitively ever again but just in general? You think you’d finally feel like you’ve served me a hot plate of revenge?”
There’s no reason for him to be able to see right through you so easily. There’s no reason for him to know how stupid this whole thing is and how really the only one suffering is you. Always you. Only you. Alone.
Jungkook’s face twists into a vision of pain and you’re stunned into silence. It’s like you can tell how much your disregard for your own body is affecting him when it shouldn’t. He’s your self-proclaimed enemy that was once your friend. You shouldn’t feel like you’re hurting him more than yourself.
You don’t even feel the lone tear that slips past your walls and slides down your cheek until he moves closer and uses a smooth thumb to wipe it away. Dammit, you’re better than this.
“Not everything is about you, Jungkook.” But right now it is. For you, it is.
He nods his head once. The pain that was painted on his face morphing into something you can’t discern but his thumb doesn’t lift from your face. Instead, the rest of his fingers cradle the side of your face like they’re protecting you. You inflate at the action. After several seconds, they’re gone.
“I should go,” he states matter-of-factly.
Don’t, you want to say but the words live and die in your throat You know if you start you’d say too much. “Yeah.”
Even though you want him to make up some silly excuse as to why he has to walk you home. Like maybe you’d slip and knock yourself into the netherworld. He does nothing of that sort. He puffs out his cheeks; resembling a bunny, and then he sends you a wary smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
For the first time in ages, you don’t like the sight of his retreating back. For the first time in a long time, you don’t even have the energy to pledge eternal damnation to Jeon Jungkook. All you want to do is ask him why. Why were you not enough? Why did he hand you back your heart when all you wanted was for him to keep it. And why did he suddenly do a one-eighty in college, resorting to snide comments and remarks that make you boil but also instill air into your lungs like you are finally breathing again? Why does it seem like he still cares?
You’re on a mission to drown out everything that has to do with Jeon Jungkook. You don’t like that he has created a rupture in your stratosphere. You don’t like that you’re realizing that you’ve been waging a war but not against Jungkook like you’d originally perceived. Now now that you think about it, when has he really been a rival? You’ve really only been fighting yourself.
The two of you aren’t even in the same category. You don’t even specialize in the same swimming techniques. And now that you’re seriously going through it, has he ever really been conceited about getting better times? All he ever did was point out things you were doing off and even though you hated it, it wasn’t like he was lying.
You’re one step away from your dorm when your phone buzzes with a flurry of text messages. It’s from the swim team group chat for juniors and seniors.
Taehyung: It’s the weekend mi amigos *dancing emoji*
Vivian: whatever you’re thinking... it’s gonna be a no! from me! also i thought u were sick?
Taehyung: aw come on i havent even said anything yet
Taehyung: not! sick! it was just the flu
Seokjin: flu is a sickness, no?
Vivian: im so tired dudes,, im not going out with y’all to get smashed
Nathan: im down
Taehyung: yes!!!!
Taehyung: guys i promise! you’ll love me for it. a friend of a friend is hosting a party on Greek row. Let’s GO!!
Vivian: it’s not like we’re the only friends you have. ask someone else dude
Before you even think about it, you’re typing a response.
You: I’ll come. We don’t have training tmr so...
Taehyung: OMFG
Nathan: i had no idea you were in the chat lol
Vivian: rude. if y/n’s going then maybe she’ll keep Tae’s head on straight
Seokjin: don’t know if JK’s down but I’ll drag him out if I have to.
You: don’t do that.
Taehyung: why? don’t you guys have that whole foreplay thing going on or?????
You: WHAT
Vivian: wait i might come after all
Seokjin: Tae, leave it alone.
Taehyung: okay but it’s not my fault they both barely look at anyone other than themselves during practice. i can’t be the only one that noticed them basically eye-fucking each other all day everyday
Nathan: i second that
Vivian: ... sorry, y/n. but i third that
Seokjin: GUYS. if she leaves the chat because y’all can’t keep your mouth shut istg,,
Nathan: wait is jungkook reading this?
God, how you want the whole universe to open up and swallow you whole. Your phone feels like a hot potato in your hands. You throw the wretched thing into the back of your jeans pocket and blink over and over again as you rush into your dorm and up the elevator.
It takes the rest of the day to calm your cheeks from splitting from humiliation or embarrassment, it’s a close tie. You don’t pay attention in class, you can barely nap without the words blinking at the back of your eyelids like neon target signs.
Foreplay? Foreplay?!
You almost spontaneously combust.
You hear the telltale sound of a key unlocking your dorm room door and you hightail out of the ensuite bathroom before you can even think.
“Foreplay?!” You all but scream at your roommate and fellow swim team member, Vivian.
At the very least she looks sheepish, smiling nervously as she pushes a piece of her coiled hair behind her ear. “I thought you knew. I mean, everyone talks about it.”
“What about me wanting to rip his ass from his hole screams foreplay to anyone?!”
She shrugs, her lilac sweater falling down one brown shoulder. “I don’t know, it’s kinda sexy.” She drops her backpack on the only sofa and turns back to you. “He’s the only one you really talk to in the team so, everyone just kinda assumed y’all were either a has-been or a to-be couple.”
Wheezing, you lock your arms defiantly across your chest. “I don’t like him.”
“Yeah, okay.” Vivian laughs, unconvinced for some reason.
“I’m not kidding. He’s annoying. Always breathing down my neck like he’s my personal trainer or something. Any time I do a thing it’s like he has to say something in response, you know. I don’t hate him but I don’t... I don’t like like him.”
“Do you think he’s attractive?”
“Everyone does.”
She smirks at you like she’s caught you dead in a trap. “And you?”
You bite your lip. It’s not worth the hassle to lie. “A little bit. A teeny-tiny bit.”
“What about him do you think is attractive? And don’t mention his thighs because we all know those are in a different league of their own.”
That gets a laugh out of you. Vivian’s mouth widens at the sound. You realize then that maybe, just maybe, you’ve been hoarding things in for too long. And you appreciate Vivian because she’s always been nice and has tolerated your one-worded answers and four am showers like a champ. You want to give her an award or something.
You lean against the wall and think about her question. “Well, in a way his nagging and pushing my buttons can be seen as being attentive? I mean, he notices things about me that I don’t. And I’ve been… thinking that maybe he’s not really all that bad like I conjured up in my head.” More than that, before everything turned to shit, you thought he was the kindest, funniest person in the galaxy.
“Well, I’m no team Jungkook,” she snickers at her own Twilight reference and your lips tilt up as well. “And I won’t pretend to know what’s gone on between you and him. But whatever it is, maybe y’all just need to, like, talk it out.”
“I—”
Vivian shushes you. “You know I’m right.” She sashays to her room door and then turns back to you. “We’re going to go to Taehyung’s friend of a friend’s frat party and you’re gonna get the liquid courage to talk to him. I think everyone on the team would appreciate the whole sexual tension going on between the two of you finally being exiled into the cosmos.”
Cosmos?
You’re not really sure what happens after that. You let Vivian convince you to trade your comfortable sweatpants for an A-line skirt, tights and a stylish sweater that you’d bought on a whim. At least if you’re going to really say screw all and go for this party, you refuse to be a shivering mess.
Even though Greek Row is truly not that far from your dorm, you let Vivian drive the two of you over. She talks about everything and anything and it feels like it’s been forever since you hung out with anyone that wasn’t during scheduled practice and workout sessions.
Hell, what have you been doing for the last four years? Being obsessed with results that apparently your arch-nemesis doesn’t even care about?
Vivian tells you about the dude she’s dating and how he’s on the university’s volleyball team. You’re more surprised than you should be. You can’t believe you’ve been roommates with her for almost two years and you barely know anything about her other than surface-level shit. Oh, Zelda, this is one big bitch of an awakening.
“I’m sorry,” you say sincerely as she puts the car in park aways from the actual fraternity building. The entire street is blocked up with cars so it was hard to find any space. “For being here and yet not really at the same time.”
Thankfully, Vivian doesn’t make you sweat. “S’cool. Everyone’s got their own shit.”
“I’ve been really shitty lately.”
“Hmm, well, we can get drunk off our asses and feel really shitty together?” You decide then and there that she is amazing and only the devil will be able to pry this budding friendship out of your cold hands.
You find out that Vivian is very skilled at mixing drinks. It takes barely half an hour for you to start feeling a buzz and by your third round of whatever she stirs for you, you’ve straight up arrived at the land of Drunkenville: population; one. You’re busy debating with her and her boyfriend about how sports anime is simply the best branch of cinema to have ever been created and the one sub-genre that truly speaks about the resilience of the human spirit when you feel a heavy arm wrap around your shoulders.
“Y/N,” the voice all but screams in your ear. You hazily look up to see Taehyung’s chiseled face smiling down at you. And even your intoxicated self can tell that he’s pregamed the fuck out of this night already. “I brought lil Jungkookie for you. At first, he was all blah blah not going but when I said you were going to be here. Boi jumped like a fish in water.”
Taehyung laughs and you laugh with him, not really sure if you get the joke but happy nonetheless that he’s happy.
“‘Sup Viv and Viv’s boyfriend,” he salutes them and weirdly enough, Vivian’s boyfriend doesn’t take offense. He salutes back.
Vivian rolls her eyes but then she clasps two strong hands across your shoulders, effectively washing away the tipsy gaze from your eyes for a moment. “Now, listen. You’re going to find Jungkook and let him know how you really feel. Use all this liquid courage and let him have it. And you shouldn’t care that we’re at a party because almost everyone is drunk anyway.
And if that goes to shit and you want out of this place, don’t you dare even think of walking home, okay? You look for me. Don’t think I haven’t seen you limping your way across the dorm like a crazy bitch. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t have the right. But so help me, if you so much as think of walking back I will ... I don’t know what I will do but you won’t like it! So go find Jungkook and do us all a favor and end this eternal foreplay.”
Foreplay... that damned word again. It overrides your brain system and makes you think of things you shouldn’t want. But you’re stupidly confident right now. Hell, your knee hasn’t really been bothering you since you woke up from your nap. The alcohol in your blood is dancing to its own beat and it’s lighting your system on fire.
If not now then when?
You have a gazillion and one questions to ask Jungkook. Questions you’ve kept silenced and bottled down in your heart for years. Questions that keep you up at night. And maybe its because the last month and a half has made you question everything about yourself and your ethic and your predicament, you know you have to do this now.
Fuck it. Who cares if you become the source of this boorish party’s entertainment like a walking cliché? It’s not like you’d remember anything that happens here and you only know a handful of people. Embarrassment? You don’t know her. Not today.
You find him in the basement with a cup of something near his booted feet and his gleaming eyes transfixed on the TV in front of him. His tongue poking a hole in cheek. There’s a small crowd of people around him and you take one glance at the screen and see that he’s playing Super Smash. Of course. He looks beautiful like this. Different than the last time you saw him and better because he doesn’t have that look of agony coloring his eyes.
You could probably spend a whole day just looking at him. Taking in the man that’s grown from the boy you once knew and called your own. His body is a work of art and ought to be chiseled and crafted like the sculptures of the Renaissance era. If you were any good a sculptor, you would’ve done just that. Instead, you commit him to memory. Because even though it is possible that neither of you likes each other anymore, you want to remember this.
He looks perfect like this. Happy. Not distressed and sad like when you’d confessed to him. When you had laid your heart bare before him and he didn’t even react. You wish you could say he had pried your heart out of your hands and ripped it to shreds. But that wasn’t the case. Your heart hadn’t shattered by his blatant rejection. It had melted.
You watch as his character, Link, of course, K.O’s his opponent and Player 2 Victory flashes on the television screen. He wins. Like always. You don’t feel mad like you usually do. Maybe you’ve finally accepted that there are just some things you can’t win no matter how steadfast and committed you are.
Jungkook looks up from his controller, pumping his fist in the air, his long, dark hair flopping around his face like a curtain. Your veins practically burst with electricity when his smiling eyes notice yours in the corner like you knew they would. The smile dims and you expect that. You’re not asking for a love to cure all epidemics or a lie to burn your body to ash. You just want to move on. To finally escape the purgatory you’ve put yourself in.
“We need to talk,” you try to say as loud as you can but the cheers and conversations of the people around you drown you out.
Somehow in someway, he hears you and nods his head. Maybe he’s a glutton for pain like you. He scoots out of the loveseat, standing to his full height and making pleasant excuses to his newly acquired friends that you don’t know. Maybe it’s the fake courage but you don’t take your gaze away from him. You’re going to do this. You have to — you suck in a huge breath — you must.
Once he steps into your bubble of personal space, the rest of the world fizzles out.
“This is a bundle of firsts, Ice Queen. You? At a party and instigating a conversation with me first? Damn, did you get a taste of hell without me videoing?”
“You always joke about everything,” you decide to bite the bullet. “I used to find that really cute.”
Alcohol o’ alcohol, why hath thou forsaken me? You almost look up to the heavens and question what possessed you to drink so much but then you rehear Vivian’s speech in your head and you find your resolve and strangle it.
Jungkook’s eyebrows fly up like he’s not quite prepared for this. “Wait, what are you... Are you drunk right —”
“I’m not good with words. And I’ve always sucked at speaking my mind and being thoughtful and generally being a good person. Like you,” you smile sadly when you remember the first time you ever made a friend; the boy in front of you that had offered you to come over sometime and play his GameCube with him when his older siblings were too busy to hang with him. “I’m passive at best when it comes to anything that’s not swimming. And even that, you got me into it. You were the reason I started it. You know this, I would’ve rather died than engage in anything that made me exert energy. But you made it fun until I genuinely loved it.”
“That’s not,” Jungkook shakes his head adamantly. “That’s—”
You shoot him a look. “Let me finish okay? I have this whole thing in my head and ... please, just let me say it.”
You hadn’t realized the curious looks the people around had been shooting your way until you see Jungkook scowl at any and every one before he intertwines your hands with his and pulls you out of the basement in a swift motion. You don’t mind the giddy feeling enveloping your chest at the sight of your fingers wrapped around each other. A part of you actually loves how cocooned it makes you feel. You want to bottle this feeling up and bathe in it.
He must be overfamiliar with the frat house because he leads you expertly into a room at the end of the hallway on the first floor. He shuts the door and then locks it. For a minute, he stares at your locked hands and you wonder if he feels the same pull you do. If he’s ever felt the same pull you do.
“When I handed you my heart and my everything, why didn’t you want it? Why did you act like I had committed a grievous crime against you and your glorious self?”
There. You’ve gone and said the thing. The biggest question that has plagued your mind for months and years. If your best friend didn’t even find value in you then really, was there any to begin with?
Jungkook lets out a heavy sigh that careens his shoulders down as if he’s carrying the weight of the world. A sigh so deep that it shakes his body from the vibrations visible through his black tee, and crashes into your soul. He closes his eyes for his barely a second but you wish he’d just spit it out. Pour acid on your wounds so you can feel the fire of a thousand suns and finally, fucking finally move on. Baptism by fire they call it but what you want is a goddamn exorcism.
“You thought I shat gold and that I hung the moon and that I was this perfect person when I’m not. I mean, have you listened to yourself? You think you’re a bad person because all you’ve ever done is compare me to you. But it was you and me. Not either or.
You think I really love swimming when you’re not the one egging me on? Pushing me to be better? You think I would’ve let you confess your magnificent love for me and then accept it when every sentence you said contrasted you from me. Pitted you against me? I’m competitive, you’re competitive but I didn’t think you needed competition when it came to that. You’d already won. And then I had this crazy stupid idea that maybe just being friends with you would work. I mean, love isn’t something you need to fight yourself bloody and dead for. Why would I accept this really amazing love from someone that was going to feel less than me and feel like shit for it?”
“So, what were you gonna do? Just wait till I up and decided that I was insecure and didn’t have a major inferiority complex I had no idea about?” Your sober thoughts vomit out of your mouth with impressive speed.
“I was still your friend,” Jungkook almost yells and out of his aggravation, his hands slip out of yours. The loss is staggering. He jabs his index finger into his chest. “I did everything I could do to still be your friend. But you wouldn’t talk to me. And I get that we were sixteen and there were so many ways we could’ve done better but you shut me out.”
“No, I…” You begin to say but the words die in your mouth.
Truth be told, you did shut him out. It wasn’t like you blocked him on every site. But when he tried to talk to you at school, you pretended he wasn’t there. When he stopped over at your place, you told your parents that you were sick and to keep him out. When he sent party invites on the gaming platforms the two of you shared a love for, you ignored them and turned off your console. But it wasn’t like you did all of this out of spite to begin with. It was just easier.
You were hurt. Seeing him brought on multiple feelings of shame, embarrassment, and pain all wrapped snugly like a demonic burrito. And he was your best friend, it wasn’t like you didn’t have other friends you could’ve asked for advice but the one person you wanted to talk to was the one person you couldn’t reach out to. So you didn’t think about it. Instead, you threw yourself headfirst into freezing ass water and worked your butt off with the one thing you had left.
And contrary to what Jungkook believes, he made you feel good about yourself. Like an anchor. You didn’t have to hide your nerdiness between a cold exterior so as to not get teased about it. With him, you were free. Like he was a sun that burned a path that enabled you to breathe easy. To be yourself so that you wouldn’t drown.
“You think I really go around joking with every bum on the swim team about Down To Fuck Demons for hire or that I walk every person with a rubbish knee home in fucking negative degree weather? Or that I worry about everyone that’s throwing their whole future away over a rivalry that doesn’t even exist? You think I’ve been playing the role of a pest around you because I hate you? —”
“Vehemently despise,” you choke on your words but your sense of seriousness causes Jungkook to burst into a staccato of quick muted laughter.
“Y/N,” he whispers your name like it’s a thing of beauty. And maybe it is. Right now you think so. “Firstly, I was dumb and I thought if I left things as they were maybe you’d realize how fucking awesome you were without me. But then all you ever did was practice and practice like you were training for an aquatics mafia or some shit. And then I realized that maybe you’re not the only one that sucks with words and when to say them. I should’ve told you that I did love you. Platonically. Romantically. And you made me feel great and not because you were less than but rather because being with you meant that I was my best self.”
You feel a cascade of water flooding down your cheeks like a waterfall but you don’t release a sound and you don’t really care about it because this moment feels sacred. Because you’re not crying out of pain or agony or longing. Rather it’s because you finally understand.
“You were like the sun and you were so blinding that I thought I would incinerate if I was still next to you like nothing happened.”
“Ha,” Jungkook scoffs, using a palm to run across his face. Then he squints his eyes at you like he’s seeing you anew for the first time. “If I’m the sun then you are —”
“The sun eater.” The words fly out of your mouth with ease. Quoting your fave anime characters was a thing the two of you had done relentlessly for days, heck, years.
Jungkook nods his head, elated that you remember like there was ever a time you’d forget My Hero Academia. “I’m not gonna apologize for not accepting your confession back then. I can’t. Not when I genuinely think neither of us knew what the fuck we were doing back then. Still don’t.”
“And I’m not going to say sorry for pulling away from you. I mean, I’m not a masochist.”
He lets out a throaty laugh that washes your insides clean. And you give a watery smile back, feeling soberer than you did a couple hours ago. You bet you look worse for wear but you don’t care because you’re done not pretending.
“Why did it take four years for me to...” your voice chokes and you almost break down right then and there. But your stubbornness is a thing of pride. “For us to finally talk about it. It would’ve made so much more sense if we had just talked and now I feel like I’ve wasted four years of my life being angry? Feeling discarded? But it’s not like that at all.”
Jungkook’s smooth yet experienced hands cradle the sides of your face and the overflowing tears pool in the flesh that connects his thumbs to your skin. “Friends fight all the time.”
You snort and he grins. “Most friends aren’t half as dumb as us.”
“You got that right. I think dumbness is attractive.” He says with an overflowing aura of achievement. “This just means we’ll just have to spend more time making up for it.” He dips his head down till his lips brush the tip of your ear. “And by the way, I think I’m done being your friend exclusively,” he says.
“Yeah?” You ask and for an inane reason, you smile even harder because the tears on your face feel like rain. And you’re still breathing easier, albeit a tad bit faster. But there’s no crash and burn after you’ve soared too close to the sun. Unlike before your heart feels like it’s glowing instead of charring.
“I think I want to take you out on a date.”
Your eyes widen with faux-horror. “Just one?”
“Oh my Zelda, can I at least finish my grand speech?” He rolls his eyes. “As I was saying, it won’t be one date but you know that kinda depends on if you’re still god at Fortnite. I mean, partying up is basically the same as marriage, you know?”
“Kook?”
“Yeah?”
“Your inner nerd is showing.”
Jungkook sputters loudly, the action making his hair swish across his forehead and his hands drop from your face. “Oh, forgive me. I thought you loved my nerdiness.”
“Love,” you correct him. “Present tense.”
His mouth practically breaks even with the floor with how wide he’s gaping. You haven’t sprouted a second head, have you?
You clear your throat, attempting to be blasé about the whole thing. “Well, if we’re really going to pursue this whole dating thing then I have to be honest, right? I think it’s quite sexy how knowledgeable you are about gaming and stuff even though we’re like hardcore athletes.”
“So I’m like an onion? Three dimensional? The more you get to know me, the more you love how I’m not like Other Guys trademark sign?”
You guffaw so hard you almost start crying all over again. “Oh my Zelda, we were having a moment. Why did you ruin our moment?”
“Think I can make up for it.” He looks at you with something akin to competition and licks his lips.
Your eyes falter at the action, zeroing in on them. Suddenly the distance between yours and his feels like a crime against humanity. It’s comical really, how the temperature of your body can fly from ice cold to a blazing inferno in less than minutes.
“Fuck,” you whisper.
“As you wish.”
Jungkook bends his lips to connect with yours in a swift motion. You’re surprised but a part of you must have anticipated it because you are pushing deeper into him as quickly as humanly possible. His arms snake across your waist, his hands landing squarely on your ass and his groan eliciting a magnitude of butterflies in the pit of your stomach as his tongue danced an infinite tango with yours. Smoothly, he backs you up until you feel your head tap a wall for support.
Holy crap shit. Your mind is a mess. No wait, your mouth is a mess. A warped sense of dizziness floods through your body and it has nothing to do with the alcohol you consumed earlier and everything to do with the sensuous teeth nipping at your bottom lip while his hands deftly squeeze your ass. Fuck, you can’t breathe. You don’t want to breathe. You cling unto his shoulders for stability and revel at how corded they feel under your touch.
He tears his lips away from yours, breathless, resting his forehead against yours. “God, you’re gonna be the death of me.”
“You can’t die until we get to the part where we role-play as demon and a naive spell caster.” You’re out of breath as well because that kiss was something else. Divine, maybe.
“I get to be the demon though, right?”
You grin at that. “Of course. I’m not a heathen.”
This time you kissed him, pushing all thoughts of future escapades further away from your mind and focusing on the beautiful man in front of you. Reaching up, you dig your hands through Jungkook’s abundant hair and moan. You understand then what it must have been like for Icarus to fly off to the sun. It must have scorched his skin to death within seconds, and yet at the same time, it must have been oh so slow. And you doubt he despaired because in the end he was heading home and he was finally not alone. You understand so well because the more the fire in your veins expands, the more you come close to burning up entirely. And you love it. You’re losing all control and you don’t care because he’s losing his alongside you.
Everything turns into a mess of frenzied motions. Him reluctantly removing a hand from your ass to reach up and use his fingers to clasp around your throat and position it just right enough for him to latch his lips there and suck. hard. When he pulls away from you to admire his handiwork, the lopsided grin on his face almost sends you into another need to kiss him.
“I’m not gonna fuck you at a frat party when only Zelda knows how many losers have cummed on a singular bedsheet,” he announces without remorse.
“Fair enough.”
“But I am going to do very wicked things to you that’ll loosen up those shoulders to the point of being supple. And after that, you’re gonna promise me that we’ll go get your knee checked out later.”
A few hours you would’ve kicked and screamed at the idea of anything derailing your plan of getting on the lineup for the competition. You thought that admitting you need help meant that you were quitting. Punishing yourself for something so irrevocably at out of your control. Now though, you nod your head drowsily. You hate the doctors but you hate self-destructing even more. Especially now when you have someone that hurts when you hurt.
He’s unraveling you.
“I’ll go.”
His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, not believing how easily you’ve conceded to him. “Where has my sweet, stubborn Ice Queen gone? Bring her back to me, please. All this ecstasy must have gone to her head.”
God, whoever said you still won’t want to deck Jungkook even after experiencing something so explosive. But his grin threatens to split your heart two. Like he’s happy to just be with you, adoring you, joking with you. Oh, how your body is singing with praises.
“Yours?” You cock an eyebrow at him.
Jungkook beams. He’s the sun and you’re the moon. Now that you’ve tasted this, you’re never going to let go. You are simply submerged.
“Haven’t you realized? You’re my girl.”
a/n: i know very much that i took a lot of liberty when writing about collegiate swimming/sports in generral (i took an advanced swim class at my uni last semester so thats where all my info comes from) i tweaked it a lil bit to fit my purposes but it was fun to try to write about it hehe.
i hope you all loved this fic as much as i loved writing it!!!!
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©️ 2020 kai, high-on-food. ✉
#hey!: thank you so much reading!!#>.< sorry long post#jungkook#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#jungkook x reader#jungkook smut#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x you#bts#bts scenarios#jungkook scenarios#bts angst#bts smut#bts fluff#jungkook imagines#jungkook fanfic#bangtan#jeon jungkook#jeon jeongguk#kpop imagines#bts x reader#bangtan imagines
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