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alphabetboyluvr · 8 months

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THROTTLE - JJK | EIGHT

one/ two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - welcome one and all to the chapters that made some of my wattpad girlies stop reading throttle, you have been warned! mentions of drugs. jungkook wears a key around his neck and it ain't for a door! solo masturbation (m). enter stage left: cc @ yoongi's door. infidelity (boo), dry humping (yay), yoongi has a choking kink (?), he cums in his pants <3 back for round two! not all that explicit, oral (f), he's so talkative <3, protected sex, incredibly sombre aftermath!! v satisfying end to the chapter IMO!!

word count - 16.5k

minors dni // series masterlist

It surprises everyone when Jungkook is the first to speak. He stands, shoulders broadening like a fallen angel unfolding its wings, and then he's back.

The man you once knew? It's undeniably him. He's still just as powerful in his stature as he always was, just as handsome, just as life-threateningly attractive.

For a second - only a moment, barely even a millisecond - you let yourself indulge in the chime your stomach has been subduing.

It's just the same as it always has been.

He's different now, though. So vastly different, you question whether or not you would have recognised him in the street.

His hair is dark, and it doesn't frame his face in the way it used to. Shame. You used to love getting your fingers tangled in it. It's pushed back now, the fury in his dark brows as clear as day. They're missing a piercing, which you'll admit is a bitter loss, but the lip ring is still there, at least.

You don't let yourself think about the one on his tongue. Haven't thought about it for weeks. Months.

Only because every time you do, you force yourself to think about roadkill instead. It's the only way you can get it out of your head. Does now mean that when you see roadkill, you think about him. Fitting, really, given the tragedy of your time spent together.

Instead of letting him know just how fucked up he still gets you, you simply raise a brow in his direction. Your back sinks into the chair you've poised yourself on, and you cross your arms, imploring him to speak the fuck up.

Part of him doesn't want to, just as 'fuck you' to your prissy rich bitch attitude. He'd forgotten about this; how much a little cunt you'd been when the pair of you had first met. Back then, it had gotten his interest piqued. Kept him coming back for more. Was the thing that got him cumming, full stop.

But now, it just feels vindictive.

And so he decides to be just as much of a vindictive swine back.

"No one's been looking for you," he says as his eyes burn into you - and yet you remain perfectly cool. Calm. Unaffected.

There was a time, a few moons ago, when a look like this from Jungkook would have surely killed you. Now, it's just all very laughable.

"Eunhee's never been much of a liar, Jungkook," you smile, glad to have checked in with her before heading to the boxing club. Maybe he did stop showing up at your door two months ago, but it was enough of a weapon to use against him.

"That senile old bat?" He laughs, and you remember just how mean he could be. It's a trait that you'd pushed to the side in your memories, all rose-tinted and sweet. The reality makes those memories a lot easier to swallow, the salt from his words diluting the sugar. "Wouldn't take her as a credible source."

The air around the pair of you is stale; unpleasant. It reeks of desperation. Desperate for what? It's debatable. Nothing good, that's for sure.

Quite literally everyone in the room is uncomfortable.

Everyone except for the pair of you.

See, this is a back and forth you've perfected. The way you bicker - the way you taunt one another - used to be foreplay. He'd rile you up just ruin you.

It's electric. Jungkook wonders what has more volts - your shared energy, or the taser he's pretty sure you've got hidden in your bag. You're too smart to come somewhere like this completely defenceless.

He's just as smart as you, though. Reads your moves, and knows exactly what to predict. Maybe it's not a form of intelligence that will do any good, but he's spent so long studying you that it would be impossible for him to not be an expert by this point.

He could write an encyclopedia about you; a dictionary based on your vocabulary.

He'd file himself under 'asshole', and would hope you'd reassign him to 'inamorato'. You wouldn't. If anything, you'd place him in a pile of discards; words unused by you for so long that you've forgotten their significance in your life.

If he were to have his own dictionary, he'd file you under cocotte. CC for short. But he'd draw fucking hearts in the margins, and crack the spine from just how often he looked at your page. Might just rip it out and keep it in his wallet like a passport photo.

"Credible source?" You smirk, ruby red lips pouting in a way that feels new to him. They're slightly different, he thinks. The shape is the same, but they seem poutier. The product of fillers, maybe. He never thought you'd be one to go down that route, but he's questioning everything he knew about you as the lights of the club reflect in the diamond on your finger. He's blinded by it; blindsided by you. "Surely this isn't Jeon Jungkook talking about credibility? About trust? That'd be a first."

"Watch your fuckin' mouth," he snaps, and it's clear you've hit a nerve. Good. "Got shit to say? Say it, then get fuckin' gone, C."

And, oh, it's painful. So gloriously painful.

The way you don't falter is the worst part. The name given to you in the sanctuary of his car lingers on his tongue, his lips ajar. There's no crease between his brow, eyes just as round and inviting as they always had been.

You think he's baiting you. Think he's trying to get your defences down. You don't realise that his defences actually are - not until he knocks his head to the side, flicking a switch as his glare returns.

"I think what Jungkook is trying to say," Jin speaks up, knowing that there'll be no resolution without a mediator. He can feel the energy between the pair of you. The vibrations run deep and jagged, stained in red and echoing regret. "Is that we aren't aware there was business to discuss?"

You turn to face Jin, but let your eyes linger on Jungkook for just a second longer before you address his friend. Handsome, you think. Incredibly handsome, in fact.

You've always thought Jungkook was the most beautiful thing about Daegu, but you might change your mind. All you need is this new guy - the one with plump lips and shoulders that eclipse Jungkook's - to glare at you. See if it gets you searing under the collar, hot between your legs, like Jungkook's glare does.

Many men before have looked at you with suspended disbelief, agitation curving around their brow bones. It's nothing new. The way that Jungkook's glare could have gotten you on your knees? That was new to you.

"Nor was I - or at least, I wasn't. Not until Jungkook told me about that little plan of yours a few months ago," you say as you smile at Jin, all pleasant and performative."But I'm very selective about who I invest my time in."

You don't have to look at Jungkook for him to know that he should take your next statement personally.

"I've no time for little boys running around playing cops and robbers. I conduct my business exactly like that; like a business. I make negotiations, I make deals. Sign contracts - and I'd never hire someone without running a background check. Can get yourself into a whole world of trouble if you don't know who someone really is."

"You're planning on employing us?" Namjoon pipes up, the prospect of a hefty payday sounding like music to his ears.

"Not employing," you say. There's more you could divulge. So much more. But it's time for baby steps, now. No use in getting ahead of yourselves. "Think of it more like... entering a partnership. A mutually beneficial agreement."

"Your appearance on TV today," Jin says, the most analytical of the bunch, trying to figure you out. "How would that help to aid your negotiations?"

You smile. It's quite simple, really.

"That was to stop you from thinking you could ever fucking touch me."

There's more venom than you intend there to be behind your words, but you haven't quite healed from the last invasion of your autonomy. You're still disgusted but how easily you were manipulated into thinking that Jungkook ever gave a fuck about you. If they think they're ever getting the chance of getting that close again, they're sorely mistaken.

"The world is watching boys," You continue. "One wrong move, and the world will be asking: what happened to her? It's my way to keep you in check. Anyways, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Who do you work for?"

"Who do you work for?" Jungkook spits back.

"Myself. Answer my question."

Jin takes the reins from Jungkook. "We're not at liberty to say."

"Fine," you shrug, getting to your feet. You're here to talk with men, not boys. If they can't make decisions for themselves, then what's the point? "I'll be on my way then. Time is money boys, and if you aren't willing to give me a dime, then it's not worth it for me. I don't need you."

"Yeah, well, if you don't need us, then why the fuck are you here?"

The way Jungkook's nostrils flare amuses you. Let's you know the real question he's asking: If you don't need me, why did you come back? Back here, specifically?

It's a good question. One you wish you had a solid answer for.

"There are rats all over this city," you tell them, thinking that it'd be best to choose at least a half-truth. "I don't know many of them, not well. Not personally. Don't know you fuckers personally, either - very rude of you, by the way, to break into my apartment like that. I'm sure Jungkook could have just told you the code - but anyways, I digress. I know how you operate, to a certain degree."

"Oh, yeah?" Jungkook questions, doubting that very much. "How do we operate?"

"Like fucking idiots," you say with a voice as flat as his tyres after a few too many burnouts. "You send in unprepared fuckers who think with their dicks instead of their brains."

Jungkook scoffs, but the rest of them wave their heads a little, contemplating the fact that you're entirely correct.

"I know your weak spots," you say, but choose not to elaborate on the fact that you were once Jungkook's. You sit back down; an act of defiance for the fact that Jungkook quite clearly doesn't want you there. "And I know some of your strengths. I also know that we have a mutual interest in the downfall of my father. Might not trust you fuckers as far as I can throw you, but I trust that your feelings towards him won't have changed all that much in three months."

"Yours seem to have changed," Jungkook notes all rather bitterly, and it makes you laugh.

You lean forward in your seat, elbow resting on your knee, chin in your palm. Your ring glistens in the light, but Jungkook ignores it. Wishes he could ignore you, full-stop, but he can't take his eyes off you. Deprived for so long, he doesn't know when he'll get this luxury again.

The fact that you're in the boxing club alone - unprotected, despite it all - should be indication enough that your feelings towards your father haven't changed. Why risk it? Why put yourself in a circumstance where you could be used against him if you weren't willing for that to happen?

"Look at you," you smile, but it's laced in contempt. "Finally making assumptions of your own. I'm proud. You got a little way to go, though, baby. You're missing the mark. Give it some time and you'll be able to make assumptions that check out."

The pet name is delivered with such ease that Jungkook almost doesn't notice it. It's the look in your eyes that really delivers it, the chaos and confusion you're conveying in one simple smirk.

"Like yours did when we first met?" He says with a raised brow, thinking you've never made an accurate assumption in the whole entire time he's known you.

"I assumed you were a cunt. Ding, ding, ding. Always right."

This earns a snicker from Namjoon, who can admittedly see why Jungkook liked you so much. There's something about you that gets the heart rate going; gets people interested in what you have to say.

Jungkook says nothing. Rolls his eyes, and grates his jaw. Doesn't see any point in conversing if you're just gonna be a bitch. He always knew you were like this, but he'd managed to chip away at your softer side and had somehow forgotten just how hard your exterior is.

You've fortified it, now though. Built your defences up. It's been three months, and you've not wasted a day. Naive of him to think you would have. You're your father's daughter after all.

"Look," you turn to Jin, still pretty and poised, but this time there's an air of sincerity to your words. "I'm waving a white flag here. You fuckers are lucky I came to your first. Might not trust anyone else in the city, but I don't trust you either. Thing is, boys, I'm traceable. If you try and do anything to me now, you fuckers'll get caught."

"So why would we want to do business with you?" He questions, incredibly curious. He thought after everything with Jungkook, that'd be the last you would see of him.

"Cause I was always traceable, you silly cunts. Do you think just cause I wasn't on speaking terms with my dad, that that was it? The moment you did the raid, I was back on his radar. I'm your connection. I'm your way in," you say, gesturing to yourself to really drive it home how important you could be for them. "If you want to bring him down - if you want to take him for all that he's worth - then you need someone on the inside. You need me. Honestly, the fact you thought a ransom situation would work is laughable, but it just shows you're lucky to have brains now to go with your brawn."

"We haven't agreed to anything," Jin reminds you. There's a warmth to his voice that contrasts the atmosphere within the room.

"No, but you will."

"Why?" Jungkook interrupts, eyes narrow, voice scornful. He's picking at the sides of his fingers, chipping away at hangnails.

"Cause what more do you have to lose, huh?" You shrug. "You're Kang's bitches, now. Wouldn't you rather be mine? I give great employee perks."

The way your eyes dance around the room, from man to man, and eventually land on Jungkook's is deliberate. He knows this, and he lets it get to him.

"What would they be?" Namjoon scoffs, unaware of your innuendo. It's kind of sweet, how naive he is.

And so naturally, you shatter all illusion of innocence.

"Ask Jungkook."

There's silence. No one quite knows how to reply.

No one except Jungkook.

"Ring on your finger be happy with you saying that?"

And for the first time, you're rattled. You hadn't expected him to mention it.

"That's of none of your concern," you shrug. Now's not the time to let him get to you - but the way you rabbit on afterwards is evidence enough that he has. "I'm not here to be interrogated. I'm extending an olive branch; giving you the chance to earn the money you were so desperately trying to make from me. You get your money, I get my father's downfall on a silver platter."

The way you look at Jungkook is unfamiliar. It's as cold and frigid as the winter nights you used to stow away with him in his car; breath clouding in the freezing temperatures despite the warmth in your heart.

A few months ago, such a look from you would have destroyed him. Absolutely decimated his entire sense of belonging. Life wouldn't have been worth living.

Now? It feels like a luxury. A sinful indulgence. He's been deprived for so long he'll take even the smallest hit of whatever you'll give him - and even when it's fleeting, your attention is like crack fucking cocaine.

It's not just your hair or your gaze that has changed. In fact, a lot about you has. There's a hollowness to your cheeks now that there wasn't before; a slight gauntness.

Without the convenience store snacks to keep you going, you actually had to eat decently. Having someone to go home to also meant that your junk diet had to be replaced with something more... appropriate for a woman in her twenties. No more eating like a teenager.

Your loss of appetite in the aftermath of Jungkook's revelation had certainly helped with this, and if anything, you've gained weight over the last few weeks - but you're still not as soft as you once were. He can see it in your cheeks. Saddens him, a little.

Has him thinking about what you could look like beneath those clothes of yours. Wonders if his hands will still fit your waist perfectly, or if your tits will still overspill in his palms just how he liked it. Considers that maybe they won't. Maybe he'll never get the chance to find out.

You think Jungkook looks colder. It's funny, cause the weather has heated up quite considerably, but it's never been frostier between the pair of you.

Getting to your feet, you brush down the tops of your thighs to straighten any creases. You've still got a persona to keep up, even when it's dark outside.

"You can discuss it amongst yourselves," You sigh as begin to head for the door, heels clicking as beneath your feet. There's something about the sound that you just adore. Maybe it's the repetition. Maybe it's the way it drowns out the chime in your stomach as you walk past the man you once thought you... No, you think. That's not right. The man you used to fuck.��Much better. "I don't care, either way. I need an answer by the end of the week, or I'll find someone else. You aren't special. Plenty of other fuckers in the city who want to make a quick buck. Plenty of others who hate my father for one reason or another. You just had the balls to try it first."

"How do we know we can trust you?" Jungkook calls after you.

He's disappointed when you simply call back, "you don't."

There's more to be said, he thinks. More to discuss.

So he follows you to the parking lot. None of the other boys do. They already know they aren't welcome, and quite honestly, none of them wants to third-wheel such an awkward encounter. They'd already filled their quota for the day.

As he enters the dreary parking lot, he notices a car that's unfamiliar. It's a Merc. Black. Matte. Not too standard around these parts. Fuckin nice, though. He's impressed. Makes a mental note to ask you about the spec some other time.

"Hey, honey." You speak pleasantly into your phone as you pace around, not realising Jungkook's presence yet. He doesn't speak up. Too curious about who this honey could be. "Yeah, Just heading to Jieun's now. I'll be a couple of hours. Okay, okay. Love you, too."

Jungkook pretends like he didn't hear that bit. Does a terrible job of it - but at least he tries.

When you clock him, you couldn't be less bothered if you tried. So what if he heard you on the phone? It's up to him if he reads into it or not.

"You wanna know you can trust me?" You raise a brow, reading his suspicions of you.

Jungkook remains silent. He'll pretend it's to preserve his hard exterior, but in reality, it's to save himself from admitting the truth: he'd trust you with his life.

"I just lied," you continue. "I'm not going to Jieun's. I'm going to Yoongi's. Can follow me if you like. We both know it wouldn't be the first time. I'll be transparent with you - but don't think for a second that I trust you back."

"Yoongi's", Jungkook nods. Remembers the way Yoongi used to look at you. Remembers how he once thought that he was competition. More fool him for ever thinking you actually cared. You've a ring on your finger, now. Neither of you were ever competing, apparently. And if you were? Fell at the first hurdle. "What's that then? A little extra marital fun?

You smile insincerely. "Not married yet."

"So?"

"So even if it was, Jungkook, you're not the one who put this ring on my finger. You've no right to an opinion."

"And I never would have given you a ring," he says, as if he thinks his lack of interest in you could hurt you any more than it already had.

"Never would have wanted you to," you shrug, both of you as good at feigning disinterest as one another.

There's something about him though that has you curious. Has you feeling like you're being challenged. It's just like it was when you first met. The words you speak are laced with disgust, but the burning in your eyes can only be described as desire. He hates how easy it is for him to get like this around you. Hates that you know exactly what you can do to him.

He's realising now that you're far more in control of your feelings than he ever thought you were. He only ever saw you so vulnerable because you chose that. You let him. He's shut out now, and he doesn't like it.

But he does like the smile resting on your pretty lips as you walk towards him.

The way you encroach on his physical space has him hitching his breath in his throat, as if he's terrified to breathe around you. It's fitting, given the way you make him feel like he's drowning.

It's more than that, though.

What he truly fears is inhaling your perfume. smelling your shampoo. He's terrified of what it will do to him if he learns your hair still smells like gasoline. Even more petrified of how he'll feel if he learns that you don't smell like it anymore, mind you.

It's when you extend your index finger and hook it beneath his necklace that he really begins to lose his mind.

"Yanno," you say so quietly he has no choice but to edge just a tiny bit closer. Raising the key to be level with your eyes, you study it, watching the way the tiny crystals almost sparkle in the moonlight. You know they don't. It's just an illusion. If you had to guess - had to assume - you'd say coke. It's the only thing you can imagine him doing. His eyes are focused down on you, lashes long, gaze stern. "You should have told me you like coke."

Jungkook stays silent as you look up towards him, your lips laced in seduction. He knows better than to let you succeed, but - fuck - it's so hard not to. Whatever you're doing has an ulterior motive. It has to.

"Bumping coke's gonna ruin that pretty little nose of yours," you note.

"The fuck would you know about it?" he scoffs, but doesn't pull away. Can't bring himself to. All he can think about is the way your lips look. The difference in them is minimal, but they're definitely plumper. Have to be. Or maybe he just wants to kiss you more than he ever has done.

Your lips part as you lay your tongue flat and press the key to it.

Jungkook swallows, the lump in his throat swollen and intrusive. You wait a second. Wait for two. Then twist the key and dab the other side against your tongue.

"Takes longer if you swallow it," he whispers. "Snorting is much more cost-effective."

"Maybe so," you shrug, releasing the key from your mouth before pressing it against his chest with a slight push. "But you can't go around wearing Class A evidence like that, you silly prick. I meant what I said," you trail off to a whisper, stepping even closer towards him. He doesn't back away. Quite the opposite. He edges a little closer too. He knows he shouldn't - knows you're just baiting him - but god what a temptress you are. "I need to know I can trust the men I work with. I can't have you getting thrown into jail just for the fun of it. I need you clean."

There's something different about that last command. A softness. A plead. Your eyes linger on his, and then you pull away from the magnetism of his being.

"Stay off the drugs, Kook. A deviated septum looks sexy on no one."

And you're right.

But it doesn't really matter. The coke was just a pass time until his favourite drug came back to town. He's one hit down, and thinks the high will last him all fucking week.

The buzz perseveres. He's so consumed by it that he can't recall the conversation he had with the boys before he left. Can barely fucking remember the drive home.

But as he strips himself bare in the quiet comfort of his apartment, he can remember you.

Can remember your eyes, and the way they engulfed him with the heat of your fury - but also the way they simmered. Lashes low, lids half closed, you'd looked at him like a fucking siren, and the memory of it had his tattooed hand stroking at his firm cock. He hadn't been able to get like this since you'd left. Had tried on more than one occasion. Never managed to see it through. Would feel sick after a pump or two.

It's different now. His wrist flicks and his hand works his shaft, head thrown back into his pillows. His hips pulse, desperate for more friction, his own palm a shitty compromise after the luxury of your pussy.

It's when he's thinking of you that he gets breathless. Starts to moan. Wanks himself even faster. Harder. "Shit, C."

The term of endearment sounds so fucking sweet on his tongue. Has his torso tensing. Ass too. The wave of an orgasm threatening to crash.

Driven by instinct, his strong fingers wrap tightly around his hardened length, stroking gently. Tilting his head back, eyes firmly closed, he lets pleasure wave over him as he rolls his hips up into his palm. A guttural moan escapes his wet mouth, his teeth finding their home on his bottom lip.

More. He needs more of you. Needs your hair in his face, the scent of gasoline suffocating him. Needs his lips around your nipples, hands grappling with your ass. He needs you here.

All he's got - the only thing he's got - are his memories. His body writhes beneath him, the chain around his neck slipping from its position. There's little thought that goes into the way he moves the chain and holds the key tight between his teeth to keep it in place; nothing except the knowledge of your tongue licking against it earlier.

And then his lips close around it. His teeth ease, and the key sinks onto his tongue, the chain taut on his chin. He slows the movement of his wrist for a second. Rolls it once. Twice. Tries his best to work out if he can taste you or not.

He can't, but he can't taste the coke either, which means you did exactly as you intended. He moans, vibrating around the small key, devouring the idea that he'd exchanging spit with you once again, in a way. He knows the truth of the matter couldn't be further away from that, but it feels so fucking forbidden.

Just like you always have been. You'll remain that way.

But as his torso grows damp with the release of his orgasm onto his abs, ropes of sperm that he wishes he could have fucked into you going to waste on his skin, he can help but let his mind run wild.

Can't help but wish for more.

And so it comes as no surprise when Jungkook arrives at the boxing club, bright and early the next morning and says, "I'm in."

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There's a sheen to Yoongi's skin as he opens up his apartment door, damp from the shower that was shut off just a few moments prior. Hair wet and sticking to his forehead, you're surprised to find you're the one choking on your words.

And then he smiles.

Smiles as if he's just beaten the high score of an arcade game, smiles as if he's managed to reach the peak of Apsan just in time for sunset. He smiles, and it feels like he's fixing you up with gold; seeping into the cracks that Jungkook left in you.

"If you wanted me to cover your shifts, you could have just asked," he beams. It's the first time he's seen you in three months. "You didn't have to be all dramatic and quit on me like that."

His teeth are showing, and they only show more when you give him a light tap on the shoulder with a closed first. His body jolts back slowly, eyes eating you up like a souffle pancake after a month-long fast. He bites down on his bottom lip with those pretty pearly whites, and pushes his door a little further back to invite you inside.

"You know you like a girl who keeps you on your toes," you grin back at him.

"Coffee? Tea?" He asks as you cross the threshold. You both know he won't have any at home, and that he'll need to order it in, but the gesture is kind. He's kind. "On my toes, yes. Sprinting marathons just to keep up with her? Less so much."

"Wine? And you'll thank me for the cardio in later life," you assure him, and toy with a joke about other forms of cardio you could do together. It dances on the tip of your tongue, and you know that if you spoke it aloud, goosebumps would form on his bare arms - so you say nothing, instead.

He'd be the perfect distraction, you think, nothing like the boy you're trying to forget. Kind, and handsome, and someone who actually gives a shit about you.

Forget distraction. He'd be the perfect man. Or at least he would be if he wasn't so helplessly infatuated with you.

That's thing about Yoongi; he sees all the good in you, and ignores the bad.

He'll take your witty banter, but neglect to factor in how mean it can sometimes be. He'll watch you yawn at work, half-bored to death, but refuse to acknowledge the fact you could cure said boredom with the tasks on your to-do list, that you instead leave for the next shift worker. He revels in the beauty of your laugh, but apparently is deaf when he hears you bitching about customers who have done very little wrong.

You aren't a saint. Perhaps not a sinner, either, but you sure do feel a lot closer to one than you think you should.

For all his wrongdoings, Jungkook never once treated you like you were a saint. There was no pedestal beneath your feet when you kissed him; he'd stoop to your level.

He saw you exactly as you were, which is why it hurt so much when you realised you'd only ever seen a facade that he'd cooked up in the shitty back room of a boxing club.

Thoughts of him are dissolved with mindless chatter, Yoongi always so good at taking your mind elsewhere. He knows you in such a way that talking is easy. It never feels calculated, never feeling like you need to think about what you say. He'd never judge you for a single thing.

Perhaps he should. Perhaps if he'd have held his guard up a little higher, stood his ground a little firmer, then he wouldn't be so weak to the way you batter your lashes and give him coy looks in dull-lit rooms.

There's talk of the garage; the usual customers, your old boss, how late shifts drag without you there. He's quiet when you ask about Jieun. Just tells you she's all good. He changes the subject. Asks about your dad, and how the fuck you managed to keep that one quiet.

You're surprised to find that honesty feels nice.

Until, inevitably, it doesn't.

"You gonna tell me about the ring?" he eventually asks after you've both had a little wine to ease the tension of three months you've been away.

You don't drop your eyes from him, not even for a second. His damp hair is nearly fully dry, and he looks so comfortable in a pair of grey sweats and a white shirt, reclined on his sofa. Simplicity looks good on him.

You're still in business casual, tight dress hiked around the top of your thighs as you sit on his floor. It was always your default when you came to his place, for some reason always opting for the floor instead of next to him on the sofa. Always been concerned about keeping a little distance. Funny, how the one time the distance would be apt, you find yourself wanting to sit next to him instead. You don't, though. Not yet, at least.

"What of it?"

Yoongi looks at you like you're a little bit mad. He kind of thinks you are.

"It's on your ring finger."

"Oh?" you say with a small laugh. "Is it?"

His eyes narrow on yours, before they glance back down to the ring. The stone is clear, and if he were to guess, he'd assume it was diamond - but he'd never struck you to be the kind of girl who ever wanted diamonds. Opals, maybe. Emerald, topaz. Stones with a bit about them. Something interesting. Not a diamond. Of all things.

But perhaps he didn't know you as well as he thought he had done. Perhaps you really weren't the girl he had dreamt up in his head; the one that he spent hours upon hours daydreaming about after you left.

Funny, how both he and Jungkook would get lost for lifetimes thinking about you, but they were both so vastly different.

In Yoongi's you'd come back home, show up at the garage like no time at all had passed, and tell him that you were wrong all along. He's the one you want. He's the one you've been going crazy thinking about. He's the one you came back for.

Sometimes he thinks about that week you went to Busan. Thinks about what it could have been like if he'd been the one to take you. Thinks about how fucking good it could have been to experience life outside of the confines of work and your apartments together. He thinks and he thinks and he thinks. Occasionally he acts on those thoughts too, but he tries not to.

It all feels a little wrong.

But that's what he likes about it. The fact he knows he shouldn't be thinking about you when he's turned on just turns him on even more; so he finds himself thinking of you far more often than he should. Thinks of you when he's alone; his bedroom lights switched off, duvet pushed midway down his thighs, hands roaming down his body. He grazes his skin with the tips of his nails. Pretends it's you.

"What about you," you shrug, nodding towards the scrunchie that's looped around the neck of a wine bottle on the counter. "Don't think your hair's long enough for that."

"You'd be surprised," he grins, pleased to find you grinning back.

"Prove it," you flirt, getting to your feet to retrieve it.

Yoongi watches as you retrieve the scrunchie, and knows that he should tell you no.

He should say 'actually, that's my girlfriend's.'

But she's only ever been a distraction to stop him from thinking about you - and how can he think of anyone else when you're in his space, heels off, dark hair draped over your shoulders like fine silk?

In your heart of hearts, you know that the scrunchie means he has someone. The hair grips by the sink, the takeout containers for two next to the recycling, the fact his apartment is actually clean and tidy, too.

"Prove it?" He grins as you return to his sofa, but you don't sit. You stand in front of him. Keep your eyes on him. Wait as he adjusts a little, his leg unhooking from beneath the other so that his lap makes the perfect seat for you to sit upon.

And so you do. You hike your dress up. One of your knees rests down next to his thigh. You're tentative. Slow.

His hand strokes up the back of your thigh. He nods. Encourages you further onto his lap. When your second knee finds its home next to his other thigh, he nods again.

You're smiling as you lower your weight, ass perched on the tops of his thighs. There's a little distance between the pair of you. You're not as close as you could be. Proceeding with caution. His lips pouty, eyes pure. A paradox.

"Prove it," you nod, and your hands start to toy with his hair. He's smiling right back at you, enthralled with the flirt almost as much as he's enthralled with the way it feels to have your nails scratching against his scalp. "Gonna make your hair look so pretty."

It's unfair, he thinks, that you get to have your hands in his hair, but his aren't allowed in yours. Doesn't realise that you wouldn't object.

"Don't think you will," he simpers back, the hand of his that was on the back of your thigh now resting on top of it, stroking ever so gently. The touch is so gentle, so minimal, and yet it has you pulsing beneath the lace of your underwear.

There's a ring on your finger, and someone waiting for you at home, but no one's had you in a position this provocative since you jumped town. See, you're 'waiting'. 'Want it to be special'. Don't want to make the same mistakes you did last time the ring had been on your finger.

Or at least that's what you tell yourself, and your fiance seems to believe it - why else would he get down on one knee again?

"I definitely will," you banter as you wrap his hair up with the scrunchie. His hair sticks on end, like a tiny sprout, and he looks adorable. "Gonna make you look sooo pretty."

He frowns, but with a sparkle in his eyes that let you know he's just joking. "Done?"

"Done," you beam, giving it one final adjustment. There's a slight movement to your hips, too. Getting cosy. His hand sinks a little further up your thigh. You pretend not to notice it. "Prettiest sprout in the whole of Daegu."

"Only Daegu? There are prettier sprouts outside of Daegu?"

You shrug. "Maybe. We should enter you into the national pretty sprout competition."

He adjusts his hips, sitting up a little straighter. He moves you into a more comfortable position as he does so. You're closer now. So much closer.

"Think I could win?"

"Best in show, baby," you grin. "I'd win for best sprout stylist, though."

Laughter echoes around you, his smile so sweet, so saccharine that you think he must surely be made of sugarcane.

The way Yoongi looks at you is devastating. Eyes soft and round, they're glossy and wet. Earnest.

They drop to your lips, then return to your eyes. Repeat. His lashes flutter whenever he does so, and there's a reflection from his floor lamp that looks like a pretty little love heart in them.

So devastating. It's the kind of look people would write films about, all for that one shot of his eyes after the confession scene. The one that will go viral, the one that will be cited for years as 'the look', the one that would earn Min Yoongi a place in the heart of every young woman who watches it. Young men, too. Fuck it, anyone with a pair of working eyes.

He's got a look in them that makes you want to believe in love; but the fact you even have to think about it just proves that this could never be that.

"I'm using you," you tell him, knowing that honesty is all you can really give him. He deserves that much, at the very least. Deserves more, you think, so much more than you can ever be - but he doesn't want more. He just wants you.

He tries a little banter. "To win the competition? I know."

But you don't feel like bantering. You want him to know how much of a piece of shit you are. How much you only ever think of yourself. How selfish you can be.

There's a look on your face that is unfamiliar to him. A warning. I'm a hurricane; I will destroy you. It's one that he ignores.

"I know," he whispers back, seriously this time, his index finger tucking away strands of your hair that are hanging loose. Eyes focused on the movements of his fingers, he's too scared to look into yours. Shy, almost. Timid, and sweet, and everything that Jungkook's not. "And I'm letting you. I'm using you, too."

It's funny, because he really thinks he is. He thinks he's got control over the situation, that all this is happening because he chose for it to happen - as if you haven't been holding the cards this whole entire time. He's only winning because you're letting him win.

Part of you feels bad. You know that his feelings for you run deeper than your simple want to be wanted, and yet you don't try and rectify the situation. He's a grown man. He can make his own decisions. He can make his own mistakes.

The tentative tips of his fingers trail down your cheek, your neck. He pushes your hair over your shoulder, and presses a kiss against it.

His lips trail a little further up, ghosting your neck, occasionally pressing down. He's slow. Takes his time. Savours this; savours you.

You're surprised by the way it feels when Yoongi finally kisses you.

His lips are just as they should be, firm and soft, and when his tongue begins to trail across your bottom lip, you accept it into your mouth. There's silence in your sternum. You had expected that bell to chime like it so often did, but instead, there's just a small fizzle and pop, like a sparkler being dunked in a water cup. You can feel the fizzle, mind you, working its way down until you find yourself clenching.

This is good, you tell yourself. What you need.

Yoongi's tongue is slow as it licks into your mouth. He's working you out. Seeing how you taste, how it feels when your moans vibrate against him.

His hands tentatively begin to roam; hips pulsing beneath you. The weight of your body on top of his feels like a fucking crime. His fingers trail up your back. Tickle at your spine. Curve round your ribs and ghost the underside of your tits.

Your breath hitches, and all you can think about is him.

Your fingers clasp around Yoongi's, holding them in place, stopping them from moving further. He looks at you, head tilting when he realises yours is shaking. He's scared he's fucked it already.

"Just," you say quickly, noticing the panic in his eyes. "These," you gesture to your chest, not wanting to be specific but needing him to know. "Off limits. If that's okay?"

He nods. "Sure, of course. I'm sorry."

"No," you smile. "It's okay."

You could clarify. Could explain. Could make up some lie about how you don't like it, or how you're insecure, but Yoongi accepts your boundaries without question.

"Sure?" He asks, a little scared to venture further. He doesn't want to do the wrong thing. Doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, or make you feel like regretting your choices. He knows that he's probably only ever gonna get one shot at this, but he's gonna treat it like an audition for a permanent position. If he does well, maybe you'll want him again.

His hesitancy is sweet, you think. Endearing. Perhaps a little bit of a turn-off, but you don't seem to mind. You like that you can take of him just as much as he wants to take care of you.

The pace of his hips increases beneath you, your clothes aiding and abetting your crimes. It's not technically cheating if nothing happens. Or at least, that's what you tell yourself.

Sure, his cock is fucking solid beneath his sweats, trapped in the confines of his underwear, and - fuck it, fine - maybe you are so wet that you're leaving a small mark on his crotch from where it's seeped through - but it's nothing.

It's not like you're actually touching his dick. Your hands are exclusively in his hair, his pretty sprout long gone, the scrunchie now around your wrist.

And it's not like he's inside you, either - although he wishes he was. In fact, he's thinking about it when he begins whining into your mouth. Your hips are working against him, the friction getting you closer and closer an-

"God, you're gonna make- fuck, I'm gonna-" he rasps, but he doesn't slow his movements. His hands are on your waist, dictating the speed at which you're moving on top of him. He's using you just as much as you're using him.

"Cum?" You finish his sentence with a sinful smirk against him. Your tongue flicks against his, and he's whining again. You're so direct, so blasé, that he doesn't know how to control himself. "Don't pretend like it's the first time, Yoongi."

See, Yoongi doesn't fuck like Jungkook.

Yoongi fucks nice girls. Girls who fuck for love. Girls who rarely fuck. Girls who do as they should; sit pretty, let the man have his way with them, and ask for nothing in return. Girls who are prudish, and refuse to discuss sex unless they're about to have it.

More often than not, Yoongi goes for girls who love him.

And it's probably why he's so fixated on you; because he knows you never will.

You're unattainable. Good girl gone bad. Sultry and seductive in a way that he's never seen before.

He ruts up against you, chest heaving as his grip on your waist forces you to angle a little further away from him. He shakes his head ever so slightly, lips hanging ajar. "Not the first time. Course it fucking isn't. Look at you."

And now you're fucking whining. He likes the reciprocation. Makes him feel like you want this just as much as he does - and you do. There's nothing you want more at that moment than to have Yoongi twitching in his underwear, unloading himself all because of you. You want the control. The power. The satisfaction.

You want a man weak for you, to make up for how weak a man had made you feel. You want confirmation that Jungkook was nothing special. That you can have the same impact on any man.

And here Yoongi is, hard beneath the weight of your body, your pussy hot against his stiff crotch; body clammy as he pretends like the scrunchie around your wrist doesn't belong to a girl who bakes him homemade tangerine tarts, just because. He isn't thinking about her. He's utterly consumed by you. He'll feel bad about it after you leave, but for now, he's just thinking of ways he can make you stay.

"Slow," you tell him, placing your hand against his chest, just below his ribs. You both ignore your ring just like you both ignore the scrunchie. He's just as corrupt as you are. Maybe you're a good match. Maybe you can be each other's favourite mistakes.

You shuffle back a little; ass perched on his knees, eyes looking at his crotch as your palm follows your gaze. It's not hard to get a read on his size beneath his sweats. They're a pale grey, but there's a telling dark stain where you've been sitting.

"Shit," he hisses. "We can't- I can't. I want to - fucking hell, I really do - but I can't."

"I know," you nod. "That's not what I'm after."

The way you smile as you say it has Yoongi thinking he might just cum right there and then. You're fucking with his head - but what bothers him the most is how much he likes it.

"What are you after, then?" he asks as he feels your hand squeeze around his length. He groans, head tipping back against the top of his sofa. The way his hips pulse is involuntary, and it has sin lacing your smile.

"Just wanna adjust you slightly," you shrug. You want his cock laying flat against his body. It's kind of at an angle now, and while it feels great to grind down on, you know it will be even better if you can work up and down his shaft a little easier. Better for you both.

He bites down on his lip to hold back another moan and nods when you release the pressure of your palm.

"You wanna move it, or shall I?" you ask, not wanting to overstep a boundary.

"I'll do it," he says, hand dipping beneath his waistband without hesitation. It's not cheating if he does it, he rationalises. It is cheating if you do it. He's decided, that's his limit. As long as you don't actually touch his cock, then it's fine. He hasn't given the kissing much thought because he doesn't want to stop doing it.

He looks at you as he strokes his cock, just a couple of times. Just enough to make you wish it was your lips around it, not his hand. You can't see anything - it's still hidden by his sweats - but the adjustment just makes the outline so much clearer. So much bigger.

"This okay?" he asks, almost nervously. Eyes darting around your face to get a read.

You nod. "Perfect."

His hands find your waist again, and he pulls you further up his lap. He holds you in place as he slowly pushes up against you. Your hand snakes behind his neck, the other clasping one of his wrists. Your nails dig in; a moan stuttering from your pouty lips.

"That feel better?" he checks, but your reaction was all he needed to confirm it.

Still, you're notoriously the worst - and so you smirk. Lean forward. Subtly move your hips as you do so. Press a chaste kiss against his neck. Whisper, "I'm not sure. You'll have to try again."

He's even slower this time. Deeper. You shouldn't be doing this, Yoongi.

And yet he does it again. Groans. Curses. "You make me so hard."

You can't help but laugh. He's sweet. Nice to be with. "You're welcome."

It's the giggle that gets him.

Sweet? Nice? Yeah, fuck that.

His hips get erratic. The speed, the pace. Jesus H. Christ. It's a good job you aren't fucking because you think he'd actually break you. You know he'd kiss it better, so it's okay - but now you're thinking of his tongue and how badly you want his head between your legs.

"Wait for me," you whine into his lips, as your hand dips towards your clothed cunt. It's so warm and wet that it's a miracle Yoongi hasn't stripped you bare just to have the luxury of experiencing it.

You both know this is a one-and-done kind of thing. One time can be classed as a mistake. A lapse in judgement. Forgiveness will be far easier. Repeat offences? Well, they're a pattern. Guaranteed to reoccur. It'd be an affair, for lack of a better term.

Yoongi was raised better. You weren't, but that's neither here nor there.

With your dress hiked up around your hips, it's almost cruel how easily Yoongi could access your pussy if he really wanted to. Has been resisting the temptation. The lace of your underwear - black and barely there - leaves little to the imagination. He's salivating at the sheer thought of how you could taste. He can smell your arousal, and thinks you must be some kind of delicacy.

His brain is playing tricks on him. Making him feel like he hasn't eaten for weeks. What he wouldn't give to have you in his mouth right now.

It's out of bounds, though. He can't.

But he can match the rhythm of his hips to the pace you're rubbing languid circles against your clothed cunt, right above the hood of your clit.

And again, he wants it in his mouth.

He needs a distraction. Something. Anything. Feels your grip on the back of his neck and decides that's it.

"Throat," he husks. "Put your hand around my throat."

The sound Yoongi makes when you do as he's asked, nails digging into his skin ever so slightly, is unlike anything you've ever heard before. It's desperate, unrestrained. Pathetic. So fucking hot.

But you're both mewling now, bodies clammy beneath your clothes.

It hits you first; the wave of an orgasm crashing down over you, taking Yoongi with it. Your body shakes on top of his, teeth biting down into his shoulder as hands squeeze your ass so tightly you think it might bruise.

Good. Would be nice to have the mark of someone else on your skin for once.

He folds almost as fast as you do. He's quiet as he cums, not minding that your grip on his throat had dropped. There's no announcement, no prewarning, he just lets his body fall into the familiar notion of what it feels like to experience euphoria because of you. Breath hitched, cock spurting into his underwear, Yoongi's head lolls. His eyes are half-mooned, lips resting ajar, looking directly at you as he cums.

It's sordid. Dirty. Forbidden. Your favourite kind of sexual exploit - but Yoongi is a willing participant. Wanting.

His hair is a little ruffled from your hands, body limp and docile from his release. He makes no objection as your frill his hair with a smile. He does eye you a little curiously as you begin to tie his hair back up with that damn scrunchie again. He's glad it's off your wrist. Felt guilty looking at it.

You tilt your head, eyes expansive and inquisitive as a smile prevails. "Prettiest sprout in Daegu."

And he really is; honey skin all pink and clammy, eyes glossy, a smile forming on his pouty lips. But he's also not stupid. He knows you're just trying to pretend like what just happened never did.

It's the sensible thing to do - but fuck, he's been thinking about that (or at least some variation of it) for months. Years, even. Against his better judgement, he steals a chaste kiss from your lips. "Prettiest sprout maker in Daegu."

The bashful shake of your head, the way your cheeks apple, the sound of your fucking giggle, all confirm it for him.

"Shut up."

"Don't think I can," he grins, satisfied to have finally gotten you like this. And then he kisses you again, because he knows full well that very soon he won't be able to. "Why the fuck did we never do that before?"

You wrap your arms around his neck and simper into his kiss. It's nice to be wanted. Nice to have someone want you just for the sake of wanting you. Nice to use someone instead of being used. There's no ulterior motive with Yoongi; just bad timing. That's all.

"'Cause we'd have never got any work done at the garage if we knew how good it felt," you hum, voice light and airy. He's missed you in the months you've been away. "Would have spent all our time in the stock room."

"You did that anyways," he laughs, pressing kisses down your neck. "Fucking slacker."

His lips stop beneath your collarbones, just shy of your chest, mindful of the boundary you set earlier.

"You never complained," you remind him. "You loved it."

He shakes his head. Doesn't deny it. Just grins.

And that's when the guilt starts to creep in for you, too.

Yoongi's one of the good ones. Hair tied up all cute and silly just because you wanted to do it. There's safety to be found when you're sitting in his lap. He'd never fuck you over. Never.

But you've twisted his arm, and made him fuck over some other poor girl. You know it's gonna eat at him - because he's a good person. Far better than you are.

"Hey," you say quietly. "I should get going."

"It's late," he replies, his deep voice a similar dulcet volume to yours. He's mirroring you. It's cute. "You can take my bed. I'll sleep on the couch again. Like last time."

The way he tacks that last sentence on is so delicate. So pure. Proof that you can trust him. It's tried and tested. Customer approved. Trip Advisor recommended.

In your heart of hearts, you know you don't deserve another minute of his company. You look down. Choke on your words a little. Shake your head. "Wouldn't wanna put you out."

You've a home to get to.

"It's no bother," he smiles.

You know leaving will hurt him, but fear staying will do more damage.

And again, you've a home to get to.

"Stay," he says.

"I can't," you whisper. Nudge your nose against his. Let your lips linger a little too close. Don't press down until he does. And then you kiss him like you really mean it. You think you do. "I'm sorry."

The worst thing about Yoongi is the way he smiles. It's innocent, even if what you just did wasn't. Sincere. Compassionate. You know he's only thinking about you - but there are other people in this equation. You reach for the scrunchie. It pulls from his hair with ease - a testament to how he feels about his short-lived romance. It doesn't matter though, as you pick up his wrist and place the scrunchie around it.

He looks at it; at your nails and how they clasp his hand so delicately. He squeezes them. Nods. Purses his lips, takes in the shine of your ring, then looks at you. "I'm sorry, too."

You're not sure what for. For not acting sooner? For not asking you on a date all those months ago? For the fact he moved on when you moved away?

"It's cool," you say and try a sincere smile back. He sees right through it. "We're cool."

"We are?"

"We are."

Yoongi calls you a cab. You've had too much wine to risk getting pulled over. The scandal your father would face as the result of you getting a DUI isn't worth it at this point. You've a role to play. A home to get to before the sun rises.

And despite it all, he kisses you goodbye.

"Better not go rogue again," he tells you.

All you can do is smile. "No promises."

────────────

When your fiancé calls through to the master bathroom - letting you know he's off to work - you pretend you can't hear him. There's a shuffle by the door as he waits for a reply, but when he doesn't get one, he assumes you're beneath the water.

Easy enough mistake.

You've been too busy staring at your reflection for upwards of ten minutes, trying to assess who the fuck is staring back at you. The marble countertops are cold beneath your hands, the shower running freely, 'cause you're not the one footing the bill. Your fiancé is.

You don't feel bad about the fact you're quite literally pouring his cash down the drain. There's enough money to cover it - but of course there is. Despite his well-to-do salary man image, his main income comes under the table. It's illicit, but so is everything in the world you'd left behind all those years ago.

The man who put a ring on your finger is on your father's payroll. Has been since he turned eighteen. Is following in his own father's footsteps.

It's all very sweet, when you come to think about it - what kid doesn't look up to their father? You sure had.

You, the daughter of a political figurehead; he, the son of the Chief of Police.

It's what made you such a great couple from the get-go.

Was kind of like the fairytales your mother would read to you before bed. You wonder now if she was trying to ingrain the idea of such a suitor from your early childhood. Get her ideal man embedded in your brain before it even had a chance to fully develop.

Your fiancé is a little older than you are, so they had to buy time. Make sure no relationship between the pair of you could be scandalised.

Once you were of age, it seemed to be a match made in heaven. The stuff of Shakespeare plays.

It was only natural that you would end up together. Set in stone. You'd marry and become an unstoppable force for your parents. The city would remain theirs.

Thing is, you never wanted to be a character in a Shakespeare romance. You always thought it'd be fruitless. They all end up the victims of great tragedies, anyways.

What you had wanted was to be the muse of a sonnet. Have a man dote on you; write you poetry under the glare of sweltering summer heat. Someone who'd make metaphors out of the condensation on cans of chilsung, consumed together down by your favourite spot along the river. He'd mumble nonsense about the smell of your hair and how he'd long to touch you with his ink-stained fingertips.

As you grew, you began to favour motor oil over ink. Hardly a surprise that you'd been suckered by a motor-loving swine with ink etched into his knuckles. You tend not to think about how gentle those hands of his could be. He'd been everything you had ever wanted wrapped into one. Tied with a pretty red bow.

Now, you think you'll be lucky if you make it to the footnotes of a political history book.

You shower. Take a little longer than normal to rinse the grimey feeling of betrayal from your skin. It'll never leave. Not really. Lodged beneath too many layers of skin.

It's not like you had gone to Yoongi's with the intention of letting things get that far. A little flirt, sure, something harmless - but it was just so lovely to have choices. So nice to be able to choose someone who is also choosing you, even if just for a moment. A lapse in time; in judgement.

Your fiancé never chose you. He chose the path of least resistance from his parents, and you just so happened to be crossing the same road as him.

He's tall. The full cliche - dark, handsome. Had been your first 'love' before you knew what love actually was. First everything. First boy to cheat on you, too, but you mother just told you all men were cheaters. Nothing to get your knickers in a twist about. Your father was leading by example.

So even though you're in his apartment, wearing clothes washed in his detergent, helping yourself to snacks he bought, you know not to be too comfortable. Not to convince yourself he actually wants this relationship for anything other than his own political gain.

He's banking on a promotion. Not within his career, but within your father's corruption. You're an asset.

And him? Well, to state it plainly, he's an ass.

He's also definitely fucking his secretary, but it's not like he's getting lucky with you so you don't care all that much. She was in the picture before you. Or at least, while you were away. It's been a few years since you were last here. Enough time for something to blossom. Poor thing probably actually loves him. You doubt it's reciprocated.

The ring on your finger is nothing more than a political move; a safety net for the man who had held had refused to pawn it after you left the first time. You'd been a diamond girl, back then. Had been a different person entirely.

You're sat on his sofa, twiddling at your ring, garbage reality shows play on his obnoxiously large television screen, when he pops home towards the end of his lunch break.

He seems agitated. Doesn't really greet you. Is looking for a casefile he'd left at home this morning.

"Think they're by the bed," you hum, vaguely aware of flicking through them this morning after he'd left.

Petty convenience store robbery, nothing really to write home about. You scoff at the cases he's been assigned, as if he were still a rookie. He's been on the force for years. He should be investigating major crimes. Murders. Narcotics. Corruption.

Then again, he'd end up investigating all of his friends if he did those cases. Must be better for him to stay away.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he dismisses as he rushes on through.

There's a slight waft of perfume as he passes you. It becomes clear why he decided to cram the document retrieval into the last ten minutes of his lunch break. You find yourself wondering if you had smelt like Yoongi when you'd arrived home the night before.

"You picking up the car this afternoon?"

Shit. The car.

"Yeah." Your capability of making lies sound like bible truth is commendable. A skill. Talent. "Was just about to go."

"Okay, good. You gonna be near Kang's? I need some more oil."

You're silent for a moment. Think of which lovely little lie to tell. Settle on, "Jieun lives not too far from it. I can pop by."

He hums something in response. You think it might be a thank you but he doesn't care to articulate it properly. It's not till he walks back to the living area that you realise he's still talking. "-actually be good for you to get out of the house. You can't mope around here all day."

You scowl. Look at him with genuine disdain. "Sorry?"

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, a look on his face as if he genuinely thinks he's not being a dick. "You can't be out all hours at night - and before you say it, I don't care if it's just at Jieun's, I have a work schedule I have to sleep for - and then spend all day doing nothing."

This time, you stay silent.

You don't think he's wrong, but he's also the one who had given you terms and conditions when he put that ring back on your finger. No GS25 was one of them. No university either, which is what you'd really wanted to do; actually educate yourself on business affairs, so that it wasn't all bullshit when you were dealing with the hooligans from Kang's.

But no. To be welcomed back into the fold was to be restricted; prevented from doing things that would garner you any further independence.

"While I'm at Kang's, I'll see if they've got any jobs going," you say. The garage in front of the boxing club would actually be the perfect place for you to work while you figured out your next move. You also know there's no way in hell it would ever be given the green light.

"Working for your father's political rival?" he scoffs, not taking you seriously for a second.

"Says the man who wants me to buy oil from there," you scoff right back. "But fine, I can go back to GS2-"

"No. Your father said-"

"You think I give a rat's arse what my father said?"

"Your father said to keep a low profile until he can justify another job opening in the mayoral office."

"Joy. Can't wait," you say as he walks to the door. He's out of it without even so much as a goodbye when you mumble, "You might be his bitch, Hoseok, but I'm not."

Realistically, the conversation had been done as soon as you mentioned getting a job.

It's on the list of 'No Can Do' activities, set in place by your father to keep his political appearance clean. No job, no school, no clubs, nothing worthy of a scandal. Nothing that could be used against him. He might have won the last election, but Kang came pretty fucking close to stealing it from him. He needs to gain back the favour of his people.

It takes well over an hour to get to Kang's by foot from the city center apartment you're in, so you head to the nearest bus station. Figure you'll just hop on the 503. Will try not to think about Jungkook when you do so.

You're dressed down, a slouchy jumper over a pair of jeans fading you into obscurity. Nothing special. You know you should really make more of an effort to keep up appearances, but you're tired. Exhausted. Not physically, but mentally.

Your old life is draining you.

There had been method to your madness: you'd returned 'home' for a reason.

Part of you wishes you hadn't. Wishes you'd have gone straight to Kangs.

But you needed an 'in', and to be honest, you needed protection. You play a mean game of poker, and your bluff has been perfected, but behind the poker face, you're scared. Of your reality. Of your father. Of the men who dwell in Kang's boxing club.

And so you'd needed to get your ducks in a row before you stepped foot into Kang's. Couple of months was all it had taken for your family to be convinced that your reckless youth had been outgrown; for a ring to be back on your finger.

You find yourself thinking about Jungkook; what it could have been like if you'd have met him before... well, before everything.

You think about your life as a teenager - privileged, affluent. Think about his hardships, and how you could have tried to help. Your father never would have listened to you, but you could have a least appealed to his sense of humanity. Could have tried to stop the funding cuts. Probably could have extorted your father; used his mistakes against him.

Instead, you'd distanced yourself. Changed your legal name as soon as you could because you knew that, eventually, you'd want to run. Would want to remove yourself from any position of influence.

It's why you never could have helped Jungkook. You had been running from the very thing he needed: power, influence, money. At the time, they'd been meaningless to you. Not meant for you, you thought - though you're doing rather well cosplaying as Daddy's little princess again.

As you make your way across town, you notice how bad the air quality is once more - heavy in your lungs, drying your eyes out.

You make your way to Yoongi's, and for a moment, it feels like nothing has changed. Like you're just going to hang out on a day off. You'll gossip about the boss, maybe make theories on why Jieun had called in sick the week before.

But when Yoongi opens his apartment door, he wants to look like he's ambivalent about your arrival. Indifferent. Unphased. Can't help but smile, though.

"Twice in twelve hours?" he says. "Really making up for lost time, aren't you?"

You roll your eyes, because there's an innuendo lacing his words and you're not sure what to make of it. Both of you are sober, now, not a drop of wine left in your systems and yet... you kind of feel like you are a little tipsy.

Your skin is clammy, heart beating a little faster than it should be. Just the air quality, you tell yourself. Harder to breathe. Yeah, just the air. Just the pollution, baby.

Funny, how it's Jungkook's voice in your head again.

But Yoongi's heart is doing the just same. Can't blame it on the air.

He knows last night was wrong, but the adrenaline rush that had come with giving himself up for you made him feel like he'd digested enough uppers to kill a man. Swallowed them whole. Chased a high he'd never reached before. Nirvana. Purgatory disguised as paradise.

"Look, Yoongi I-" You begin, but he interrupts you. Knows the tone of voice you're using. Doesn't want to hear it.

"Don't," he says, opening his door a little wider to invite you in.

You hesitate, but when he knocks his head back, eyes half-mooned as they drink you in, you can't refuse. He nods to the sofa, where you take a seat, shoes off, feet up, legs crossed.

He stands by the wall opposite you, keeping a little distance. Looks down - but then right back up and into your eyes as he says, "You've only just got here. Don't treat me like I was a mistake already."

There's silence as you look at one another. Your lips rest ajar, a million thoughts fighting it out to be spoken first.

"You weren't."

You're not sure you believe it, but you want him to. Don't want him feeling like you regret him.

"No?" He says, dark but deliriously honest; not only how they drink you in, but how they also pour out for you. The windows to his soul are open, curtains wafting in the breeze. He's inviting you in. Offering you a home. "Why does it feel like you were about to say that it was?"

Because you were.

Not because you thought it was a mistake for you; but because it was a mistake for him. The scrunchie has been hidden away, and his take-out for two containers have been left out for the recycling collection. He's testing out what it could be like, you think. What it could be like to have you in his space.

"I can't give you what you need," you say quietly, avoiding eye contact. You'd expected a little more small talk before jumping to the hard hitters, but Yoongi's been striking out for years. He's making the most of your defence being down.

"Can't, or won't?"

"Both," you feign a half smile. "Even if I wanted to, Yoongi, I don't think I could. I'm not made for you people like you."

"And what am I like?"

"Good," you speak so softly he can't help but smile. "Deserving of more."

He just shrugs. Doesn't hide his hurt. "What if I don't want more?"

"Yoongi-"

And then his hurt takes precedence; obscures any whispers in his mind that tell him not to do... well, do whatever the fuck this is. He's waited years for a green light from you. Instead, you'd raced through amber the night before. Looks red now. He just wants fucking green.

"I don't want more."

"Yoongi."

He looks down. Shakes his head.

When his gaze meets yours again, the windows are shut - but the curtains are still drawn open wide. It's dark inside. Lights are off, but there's somebody home. They're waiting for you to come home, too.

He walks a little closer to the sofa. "Tell me you didn't want me last night."

You're so good at lying. Have mastered it. And yet-

"That's not fair."

Why aren't you lying to him? You can be cold. You can be callous. You're perfectly capable of treating the ones you love like they mean nothing more than the shit beneath your shoes, and yet it's hard to do it with Yoongi. Hard to tell him anything he doesn't want to hear. He deserves the earth, you think, and yet all you're giving him is dirt that will get trapped beneath his nails.

"Tell me you didn't," he repeats, standing a little taller now. His shoulders are broad. Powerful. You'd be safe with Yoongi. Would want for nothing. "Tell me you didn't want me last night."

You look down. Shake your head.

Shame is a funny feeling. Fools you into thinking you should be honest.

"I can't."

Yoongi doesn't smile. Just nods. "Because you want me, too."

"Not for the right reasons, Yoongi," you stress, hoping he'll see sense.

"Who gives a fuck about the right reasons?"

"You will."

"I won't."

"When you ruin what's good for you because of something I can't give you, then you'll give a fuck," you tell him. The hairband might be hidden but there's half a tangerine tart left in his fridge and a concert ticket she bought for him taped on the door of it. His life is good. He doesn't need you storming through it like a summer typhoon. "I am nothing. I can give you nothing."

And then Yoongi does something all rather unexpected.

He smirks.

Toys at the corner of his lips with his tongue. Crosses his arms and raises his brow. "You gave me yourself last night."

"I gave you my body," you correct him, getting to your feet. Nothing good will happen from this conversation. You just need to get your keys and go. There's an urgency to your movements, heading towards the kitchen section of his open planing living space. Your keys will be on the hook where he keeps his own, you're sure. "Look, I've got-"

Your movements are halted as Yoongi reaches for your hand. Pulls you round. Walks you back until your ass is against the kitchen cupboards. You're looking up at him. The closeness of your bodies is intentional. Orchestrated by him; allowed by you. His voice is low as he says, "That's not nothing."

"But it's not enough," you stress, and you absolutely mean it. "I'm engaged to be married, Yoongi."

"And I'm already going to hell," he whispers, resting his forehead against yours. You don't stop him. "So I may as well have fun with it."

This is a side to him that you've never seen before. One that screams danger. Either he's learnt what you like in a man, or maybe he's just been hiding this part of him. He's tried being perfect, has seen it doesn't work. Maybe this is the real Min Yoongi.

"Yoongi," you say with little thought as his nose nudges against yours.

"Mhmm?" he hums back. His lips ghost yours. Your heart is beating out of your chest. One of his hands is flat against the kitchen counter as the other brushes up the curve of your waist.

You shake your head. The movement only causes the friction of your lips to tenfold. "If this happens, it doesn't mean anything."

He smiles against you. Shakes his head. Presses his lips against yours. One, two, remember to breathe. Pulls away. "It means everything."

You've always been a sucker for men who speak in definitive terms.

But you know how dangerous they can be, now. Know not to trust their words.

"We're not on the same page," you say. At least this way, you can't be accused of leading him on.

"We're not even reading the same damn book," Yoongi smiles against you. Kisses you again. Pulls away before you're ready for him to do so. "But does it really matter if they both have the same ending?"

And then you kiss him. It's soft. Tender. So sweet and gentle compared to the hardness of your heart. "It's not a happy ending."

"So close it, then," Yoongi says, pulling away from you a little. He's giving you the chance to leave. To get out. Escape. "Close your book. Stop this from happening."

But then you're kissing him again, and his tongue is in your mouth and - fuck - it's so nice to feel someone touch you with such intent. You know this is more than something casual, know that you've cared for Yoongi for too long for it not to have stemmed from nothing, but there's no permanence. It's terrifying and soothing all within the same swipe of his tongue against yours.

"One last chance," he says, lips so close to yours that he may as well be sending you telepathic messages. "Close your book if you want to."

It's shameful, the way you shake your head. Keep your eyes closed. Swallow. "But I wanna know what happens next."

Must sound like music to Yoongi's ears. He kisses you so deeply you think you may suffocate.

"What happens next is up to you," he moans into your lips, his nimble fingers pushing the button of your jeans through its fastening. "But it starts with this."

The sound of your breath is heavy. It soundtracks the murmur of your jeans zip being pushed down. Doesn't hide the way he curses against your lips.

"Yoongi," you whisper, eyes closing to stop yourself from catching his gaze.

His lips press against your throat, his dexterous fingers toying with the lace of your underwear. He knows he shouldn't. Knows that there's no taking this back. Knows he's fucking everything up - but he's played it safe for so fucking long and where has that ever gotten him before?

"Yoongi, I-" you try again, but his tongue strokes against your neck, teeth grazing it ever so scarcely. His fingers sink into your jeans. Press on your clit above your underwear. It has you gasping for air. He eases his pressure, then reapplies. Repeats. Your hips move languidly against his movements. You want this. Want him.

Want to feel like you're actually loved.

"Say the word, and I'll stop," he promises.

But you just shake your head.

"No?"

"No."

"Don't stop?"

He presses his fingers against you. Circles. Once, twice. God, it feels so fucking good to have him touch you like this. Has you mewling. "Don't stop."

"I won't. I'll make you feel so good," he husks against your neck. "You know I can do it. Know I can make you feel better than anyone else ever has."

The promise is pointed; directed at Jungkook. You hate that you're thinking about him. Hate that as you tug on Yoongi's hair, his fingers still pressing against your clothed cunt, it's Jungkook's face in your mind. His smirk, how he loved watching you come undone, how he comes undone.

And so you open them. Focus on Yoongi. Tell him how good he's already making you feel. Tell him how you've thought about this before.

It's not a lie. Admittedly, it was before Jungkook had ever come onto the scene, when you and Yoongi were still dancing that awkward line of flirting or friends. You'd settled on different sides, but, for a while, you contemplated what could happen if you chose the same side as him. Spent a couple of late nights imagining how he'd feel.

He's more delicate than you ever expected. Gentler. Softer.

"Is that what you want?" You moan as his lips yours, nails scratching up his throat, remembering how much he'd liked it the night before. He whines a little into the kiss. "Wanna make me feel good?"

He nods. "Wanna be the reason you cum."

His hands sink further into your jeans. Slip beneath your underwear. You're like fucking silk on his fingertips. Incredibly sodden silk, but silk nonetheless. Exquisite.

Yoongi presses his body into yours, and you can feel his bulge against your tummy. No matter how badly you appear to want him, he wants you more. Always has done.

What a devastating achievement this is. Yoongi finally has the girl he's wanted in the palm of his hand, lungs stuttering her chest - but it's tarnished.

All he ever wanted was to love you. Not to fuck you. Sure, it'd be an inevitable side-effect, not one he'd ever complain about, but this just... wasn't how he'd envisioned it.

He's not sure that he could classify what he feels now as love. It's something quite similar, yes, but it's tainted. The waters he's treading are murky, as if something could pull him under at any time. A little bit of seaweed, maybe, wrapping up around his ankle, seeping up his legs like the ribbons of ballet shoes, pulling him down to dance on the ocean floor.

He'd let it, he thinks, if it meant he got to dance with you.

It's when your hands creep to the top of his trousers that he knows he's won. Knows that you do want this, too. Want him.

The second your hand wraps around his length, warm and stiff in your palm, he's ready.

You'd come undone with one another the night before. Used each other. It was self-serving. Self-gratifying. But now?

He's going to be the reason you come undone. His movements. His hands. Him. All him.

The way he guides you through his apartment is sweet. Careful, and gentle; his back is to the walls just in case he knocks into them. Keeps you protected.

And that's exactly what Yoongi is; a safety net.

But as he gets you on his bed - gets you undressed, gets his lips in places he only could have dreamt of, his tongue on your skin, teeth nipping - it's easy to forget that the safety net is still suspended a few meters above ground. You're not entirely secure.

The way Yoongi cradles your jaw makes you think you are, though. He always asks permission. Never takes a chance. Is vocal not for the sake of it, but to make sure that you always have an out. He wants this, wants you, but only because he's convinced you want him too.

Let me eat your pussy, baby. Is that okay? Will you turn over for me? That's it. God, yeah like that. You're so fucking good at that. Wait, wait- no. I'll cum. Don't wanna cum yet. Sit on my face. Shut up, no, I don't care. Maybe I want you to suffocate me. God. Taste so fucking good. That's it. Grind. On my face, baby. All over it. Look at how hard you made me.

And how can you refuse his requests?

Yoongi doesn't hide what he likes. Likes you. Likes you on top. Your hand around his throat. The way your nails feel against his skin. Would really like for you to leave a mark but he always grabs onto your hand whenever he thinks that you might. It's a reminder: his body isn't yours.

His heart might be, but who cares about that?

You don't, clearly, and so nor does he. He'll take what you give him.

And what a gift it is; clammy bodies, dulcet moans, whines of his name.

Yoongi's thought about this so many times, but he's never realised how good it would feel; what it would be like to hear you giggle while he's pushing himself inside you. Had never realised that you'd kiss his temples when he bottoms out, or that you'd whisper his name like a fucking bible verse. Never considered that you'd be so tight around him that he'd spend a fair while warming his cock inside of you, kissing you slowly as you adjust to his size. Never thought you'd taste so sweet, sound so serene.

Never thought he'd get this.

But he did.

And so now he gets it. Gets why that blonde-haired prick couldn't stay away. Gets why he wanted Yoongi to know how well he'd been fucking you - because now it's the only thing Yoongi wants to do, too.

Wants you. Wants you. Wants you.

Wants you in his bed, on his floor, in his shower. Wants you in the GS25 stock room, wants you out back in one of the cars he's working on. Wants you in every way he can get you.

Wishes he hadn't taken so long to act on it.

Because he knows that he can never really have you, now.

It's why he's letting himself indulge on this occasion. He knows what he's doing is wrong, but as far as he can see it, it's a once in a lifetime. He'll never get the chance again.

Never get you sat on his cock like you are now, never get to watch the light that peaks through his half-closed blinds illuminating your features, never get your cheeks all rosy and dimpled like this ever again. Never gonna hold your bare hips as you grind against him, never gonna pull on your wrist to bring your chest flat to his, never gonna kiss you through another orgasm.

But for now, he does. Bucks his hips, whines your name, tells you he's there, tells you - oh god, like that, baby - he's gonna cum. Fuck.

And so you meet him there. Rub delicate circles on your swollen cunt, bringing yourself to release just when he does. The thin layer of latex between you protects you from becoming his, but it all feels the same. The way your heart beats. The way he kisses you. It all feels the fucking same.

His arms wrap around your back. Hold you tightly. A kiss is pressed into your shoulder; up your neck.

The guilt that you expect to arrive never comes.

It will do, eventually - but much later on. His will come in the depths of the night, when he's sleeping beside his girlfriend, too much of a coward to tell her that he's betrayed her.

You think yours will come in the cold light of day a few months from now, when you finally let your brain process everything you've been through.

He tells you he's sorry, cock still buried inside of you, and you shake your head. Tell him you're sorry, too.

"What if I don't forgive you?" He teases, trying to lighten the mood - but you almost think he means it.

"Good," you smile. "It would be good if you don't."

You trace the vein that runs down his arm, and forge some faux sense of intimacy. You're playing house, but you can't play forever. Always have to go back to reality at some point.

This point comes half an hour later; Yoongi shirtless in a pair of sweats, leaning against his door frame toying with loose strands of your hair. He wants to kiss you. "Do you regret it?"

You want to kiss him, too. "Do you?"

The way you ask is so light and airy that Yoongi still feels like he's floating. The only thing he wants to weigh him down is your body on his.

"No."

Your want is growing too large, so you look down to avoid his gaze. Yoongi notices a lash on your cheek. A wish. He should reach for it. Collect it on his thumb, tell you to blow it away.

But he already knows what you'll wish for. Who.

And so he doesn't give you the chance. Hopes the wind will steal it from you.

"Don't be a stranger," he tells you as you go. His lips are plump, annoyed with his brain at the lack of kisses stolen from you before you left.

You lie. Tell him that you won't be. Say you'll see him soon.

Both of you know that you won't.

And it's only confirmed when you get into your car - breath heavy, eyes warm, tears verging - and you spot fucking Jieun walking up the road towards Yoongi's apartment. She's carrying a punnet of tangerines. Wears her hair tied into a half ponytail like you used to do.

This. Now. Yeah, this is when the guilt comes.

It makes so much fucking sense. Of course they'd have ended up together without you in the way to fuck everything up like you're so bloody good at. You wait until she's inside his apartment complex to start the car up, and fucking pray that Yoongi's gone to freshen up, that he's hidden the condom in the trash, that his lips won't taste like you.

Oh god, it's all so fucked.

"What have I done?" You berate yourself, head resting on the top of your steering wheel.

Whatever has happened has happened. You can't take it back. Nor can Yoongi. Just a fact of life now: Min Yoongi has fucked you. And you've fucked his life up.

You dart through town, giving little to no shit about the speed limits nor the unwritten rules of the roads, and find yourself cleaning tears off your cheeks with the back of your hand. You're not crying, not really. Not intentionally. It's just kind of happening.

That's your excuse for everything these days. It just happened.

The radio is off, and the roads are smooth beneath your tyres, but everything just feels so fucking loud. The engine barely makes a rumble but it feels like it's roaring at you. Screaming.

And then you are, too.

Screaming at the world; why it had to be this way. Why you're incapable of making good decisions. Why you couldn't have just stayed in Busan with the boy who'd stained you red with the colour of his love that ended up being nothing more than a little lie.

By the time you get to Kang's, you really are sobbing. It's in the way your shoulders shake; chest tightens. That's the issue with going back to your family. You're a frightened little girl all over again. Out of your depth. No fucking clue what you're doing. Just trying to feel something. Anything. Anyone.

For a moment, it had worked. And now everything is broken again.

You twist the keys in the ignition; let the engine cool before you pull yourself together. Pull down the sun visor, check yourself in the mirror. Check for signs of weakness. Grab a little lipstick from the centre console. Your eyes aren't all that bad. There's a little blush on your face, but there's plausible deniability. If anyone questions if you've been crying, you can blame it on windburn. Or tell them to fuck off and mind their own business. One of the two.

A deep breath settles in your sternum. You're not who you were a minute ago. You can do this.

Shoulders rolled back, you hold your head high as you enter the boxing club. The TV is playing in the background, Seokjin and Namjoon sat up by the sofas. They're surprised to see you, but it's not entirely out of the blue. They knew you'd be back.

Jimin clocks you as he's grabbing a water, and nods. You don't nod back.

And despite the fact you refuse to look at him as you enter the boxing club, Jungkook knows.

He's not entirely sure of what he knows, he's just aware of the fact you aren't quite yourself. There's an elegance to how you carry yourself and now is just the same, but... there's something. He can't pinpoint it. Can't figure it out.

But of course he can't.

It's a matter of the heart, not the mind.

In the same vein, it's not a matter at all. He doesn't care about you. Not like that. Doesn't give a shit if you're hurting, or if you're upset, or if someone has been unkind but-

Oh, fuck it.

He does care. He does, he does, he does. He cares so much. So, so much. So much that it feels like his heart has been ripped from his chest just looking at you. There's blood pooling all around him. Kids fucking dance in it like puddles. You watch from afar with a smile and a shrug, holding his still beating heart in your hands. You did this, love.

Jungkook closes his eyes. Shakes the image from his head. Tells himself to stay off the hallucinogenics for awhile.

His eyes find you again as you walk towards Seokjin. Jungkook is down by the bags, unwrapping his hands after a heavy session. There's sweat gleaming on his skin, staining pretty patterns down the back of his shirt. He's pleased you'd arrived now. Knows he looks like shit, but also knows how much you liked fucking him after a workout. Would tell him not to shower. Was the pheromones. Some shit like that. Drove you fucking wild.

The pleasure he takes in your timing is forgotten about when he realises just hollow your eyes are. Finds himself actually wanting a shower - admittedly, with you. It was always where you'd find the most comfort together, and that's what he wants. Just wants to fix whatever's gone wrong for you today.

Instead, he just walks toward the sofas. Doesn't like not being a part of the discussion. There are a few nods. Slight deliberation - and then Seokjin calls the Jungkook and Jimin in to the sofas regardless.

"Taking a vote," he says. It's already been discussed in private between the boys, but no formal plans have been put in place.

You choose to stand. Jungkook sinks into the leather of the sofa in front of you. Avoids eye contact. You pretend to look at the men around you, but you don't really take any of them in. You're unfocused. Disillusioned; disassociating. Daydreaming of the beach, where the water is clear and the sand is warm.

And then, you do let your eyes fall on his. They're so wide and worried. Jungkook is certain he's never seen you like this. Something isn't aligning. Hasn't been since you left, but he thought things would fall back into place when you returned.

You okay? he says silently.

You look him up. Look him down. Part your lips - only to close them again once Seokjin starts talking.

"All those in favour of working together?"

One by one they raise their hands. Seokjin first, then Jimin. Namjoon looks around. Shuffles uncomfortably. Doesn't look at you as he raises his hand.

"Kook?" Seokjin asks.

"It's a bad fuckin' idea," he says, eyes never once dropping from yours. He's not telling the boys. He's telling you.

"Your forte," you say sweetly, but there's no smile on your lips.

And he just nods.

"Yeah. It is."

He raises his hand.

Full house.

"Alright, then," Seokjin beams. "Let's get to work."

#jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook masterlist #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook smut #bts fanfic #throttle #jungkook fluff #angst #smut #jungkook

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neoyuno · 2 years

Text

pretty boy | j.jh (M)

When you are close to failing a class, your professor suggests you get tutored by the smartest kid in class, Jaehyun—who so happens to be the reason why you are failing.; or, a history tutoring session turns into a different kind of session full of confessions, kisses, and so much more.

Pairing | Nerd!Jaehyun ♡ BadGirl!Reader (not really bad, she’s just bold and he is extremely shy.)

Genre | Comedy, Angst (just a little bit, he’s so cute bye), Romance (very cute fluff cause he’s a sweetie), Smut (nipple play, breast play, use of petnames (baby, angel, beautiful, pretty boy), sub/virgin-ish jaehyun, lots of kissing bc he is so cute!!!!, handjob, oral (male receiving), marking)

Word Count | 4.8K

Reading time | 25 mins

Warnings + Notes: usage of curse words, explicit descriptions of sex, afab reader. thanks to @dearj43 for starting this hehe <3

The sky darkened as you entered the parking lot in the west wing of campus. You were running late yet again, this time because you just couldn’t find your car keys. Was your professor going to kill you? Not literally, but yes—he was.

At this point in the semester, you weren’t completely sure if you were going to be able to save your grade, but you needed to or else you would have to postpone graduation. After locking your car you sprinted to the building, to find the classroom empty—except for the star student sitting proudly in his seat (next to you).

“Hell yeah! I’m early!” You celebrated silently. “Wait. Where’s everyone?” You asked when you checked your phone to see the time—15 minutes late.

The guy didn’t lift his head to look at you, too immersed in his textbook and notes.

“Class was rescheduled. He’s running 30 minutes late. Stuck in traffic.” You heard his deep voice say. You stared at him, he was absolutely breathtaking—not that you noticed.

Oh, who were you kidding! Your seatmate was one of the reasons why you were failing the class. You always got distracted by his hands whenever you were taking notes. His hands were so veiny and strong, you couldn’t help but daydream about them gliding all over-

“Are you okay?” You shook your head and looked at him, he was staring back at you with a concerned face—but all you could see were those pretty lips of his. “You were just standing there staring at me…”

“Oh! I’m sorry, I was thinking about something and got distracted by your pretty face.” You said and moved to take a seat next to him while he hummed.

The strong yet soft scent of tonka bean hit your nose once you took your seat. He always smelled so nice. You envied the person that got to leave his house smelling like him.

“So, are you going to Yuta’s party tonight?” You asked after a few seconds and he shook his head ‘no’.

You pursed your lips at the lack of verbal response—such a hot voice going to waste. He barely talked in class, unless it was to answer any questions the professor threw his way.

“Why not? You should come with me!” You said and rested your cheek on your palm while looking at him.

“I have to study.” He said softly and went back to his notes.

You hummed and rolled your eyes at his rejection. In reality, his heart was beating really fast. He was not used to girls asking him out, and you were too pretty to want to go out with him—or so he thought. To be honest, he has a teenie tiny crush on you, but knowing your reputation, all the flirty comments were 100% just you taunting him, which made him dislike you even though he wasn’t even sure of it.

“Ms. ______ I see you are on time.” You lifted your head to see the professor entering the classroom. You winked at him and clicked your tongue playfully to which he gave you an unamused face. “Hello, Jaehyun.” He smiled.

“Good morning, Professor Kim.” The boy next to you smiled back.

“I appreciate you being here, but I will have to cancel class for today. My next lecture starts in a few minutes so it is not worth it.” He said. “However, since you two are here, I wanted to talk to both of you.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and you noticed Jaehyun did too.

“_____ you are borderline failing this class. “ you groaned. He didn’t need to air your business like that. “I was going to propose you attend tutoring. Since Jaehyun is our best student, I was wondering if you’d tutor her?”

“Uh,” the boy hesitated for a bit before agreeing. “Sure.”

Damn, could’ve at least shown some enthusiasm.

“If you let Jaehyun tutor you, I am sure you will pass this next exam, which would boost up your grade significantly and take you out of the red zone.” He explained and you nodded. “I don’t want you to fail, _____. I know you are smart, but you seem very distracted this semester.”

And he was right. You were smart, but you were also very needy and the guy next to you fed into every single one of your fantasies.

“I know, I have been having trouble concentrating in class…” you said and Professor Kim nodded. “I’ll try my best to pass this exam. You don’t have to tutor me if you don’t want to, Jaehyun. I can ask Taeyong for help.”

You didn’t even look at him, you were not so sure if Jaehyun tutoring you would even help, given that he was the issue, to begin with.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind helping you.” He said and started gathering his stuff, to which you followed.

“Great! See you both on Monday for the exam!” He said his goodbyes and you struggled to keep up with Jaehyun’s long strides after.

“Hey, pretty boy. Would you slow down?” You asked and he stopped to wait for you. “Since you have to tutor me, I suppose I can’t go to the party anymore. Do you want to meet up somewhere?”

“We can study at my house.” He said and kept walking.

“And where is that?” You asked, running after him again.

“Do you know where Taeyong lives?”

“The apartments over at 166th?” He nodded.

“I live in the apartment right in front of his. I get home from my last lecture at 8 pm, is that okay with you?” He asked and you noticed he was making his way to the technology building.

“Yeah, 8 is okay.” You said and smiled.

“Okay. See you then.” He said and opened the door to the building.

“See you later, handsome!” You winked and he just hummed uninterested before entering the building.

You stood in front of his door, exactly at 8 PM like you had said. You went home after the canceled lecture to take a shower and change into something nice. Seducing Jaehyun has always been one of your goals but it hasn’t worked so far, he was too far up in his textbooks to pay attention to your advances. A pretty off-the-shoulders blouse adorned your torso and you also opted for a cute matching short skirt. Sweet floral perfume impregnated your skin as you knocked on the door.

It wasn’t after the third time knocking that the door opened—to reveal nothing more than a fresh out of the shower Jaehyun. His specs seemed to be permanently on his face, but you weren’t complaining. His wet hair and slightly slanted t-shirt (giving you a view of his collarbones) made him look so hot. Being distracted by him, caused you to miss how he glanced at your body.

“Sorry, I was taking a shower.” He said and moved to the side to let you in.

“It’s okay.” You looked around his place, as you thought, everything was so tidy and clean. He had set up a little study area in his small living room—it was just a few pillows and cushions around the tea table, as well as some textbooks and some snacks.

“You can sit down there, I’ll be right back.” He pointed at the tea table and disappeared beyond the door at the end of the room.

You fixed your blouse a bit, plumping up your cleavage just before he came back with some more textbooks and sat next to you.

“Let’s start with the Renaissance Era.” He went on to talk more about the era and how it affected the arts as we know them, but all you could concentrate on was how his pretty plump lips moved and how the silver necklace he had on complimented his thick neck so well. “____?”

“Hmm? Yes?” You snapped out of your thoughts and looked back at him.

“Do you know why it is called Renaissance?” He asked and you shook your head, embarrassed at your lack of knowledge. “Hmm, okay. So it is called that because…”

He kept on blabbering about history but you were concentrated on his pretty cheeks and then his hand that came up to push his glasses up. God would you love to have those hands all over and in you.

“You keep spacing out. We won’t be able to study if you keep getting distracted.” He said sternly, startling you a bit and shaking you off your dream. He seemed mad, you were wasting his time after all. “What’s distracting you so much?” He asked and he was absolutely not prepared for your answer.

“You.” You replied and he furrowed his eyebrows. “Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?”

He couldn’t help but blush at your words, but he quickly remembered you could be just joking.

“Stop joking around, _____.” He ignored your finger that ran down his arm.

“I am not, though. You are so hot.” You looked up at him and smiled at his serious blushed face.

“Seriously, that’s not funny.” He said and removed your hand from his arm.

“I am not joking around. Do you wanna know why I am failing this class?” You asked rhetorically. “Cause I keep daydreaming about you.”

“I don’t believe you.” He said, avoiding your gaze.

“Why not?” You pouted and he shuddered.

“A girl like you doesn’t go out with guys like me.” You scoffed softly at his reasoning.

“Do you want yo know what I daydream about?” You asked and he glanced at you for a second. Moving closer to him, you leaned in. “I dream about you touching me.”

He licked his lips nervously and refused to look at you.

“But I bet you already have a girlfriend.” You said and sat back where you were at the beginning.

“I don’t.” He whispered.

“I don’t believe a pretty boy like you is single…” he looked down and avoided your gaze. By the look on his face, you could tell he wasn’t lying.

“I’ve never had a girlfriend.” He whispered and got even redder. You cooed at him and reached to touch his chest.

“I don’t believe that either. There’s no way someone so handsome has been single his whole life.”

“Stop making fun of me.”

“I’m not making fun of you, baby. Do you want me to prove it?” You asked and he glanced at you before gulping hard. Your fingers were now playing with his silver chain.

“P-prove it?” He stuttered.

“Mhm, you have no idea how bad I’ve been wanting to have your hands all-“

“If this is a prank, please stop it.” He closed his eyes and your heart shrank.

“Hey, I’m not pranking you, baby. I would never do that.” You said cupping his face but he refused to open his eyes, so you decided to move and straddle his lap.

You felt his skin getting warmer by the second. Jaehyun felt your finger hook on his necklace, pulling him in. He was mentally preparing himself to feel your lips on his, but instead, he felt your breath hit right below his ear.

“So pretty.” You whispered and joined your lips with the skin of his neck, making him throw his head back to rest on the sofa and you could combust at the sight. “If you want me to stop, tell me and I will.”

He hummed as you licked up his throat and sucked on the skin, surely leaving marks for later. You heard him moan softly, if it wasn’t for the silence in the living room you wouldn’t have heard him.

“Do you like that, baby?” He blushed at the petname and nodded. “Jaehyun, look at me.”

“Hmm?” His eyes were droopy and cheeks pink, you had barely done anything and he looked so fucked out already.

“God, you’re so hot.” You groaned and kissed his face all over before stopping and holding his face close to yours. “May I kiss you, baby?”

“Yes.” He breathed out and you smirked softly.

For a second he confused your smirk as teasing and his heart almost broke until he felt your soft lips on his. You both hummed at the same time, kissing softly which gradually became more passionate and sloppy.

You sucked his tongue and stopped the kiss to look at him. Never had you seen such a pretty sight, his glasses were fogged up and his lips were swollen and glistening with your saliva. At the same time, you noticed his arms still stayed limp, on his sides, so you decided to hold his hands and placed them on your waist.

“You can touch me all you want, pretty boy.”

“I don’t know how to…”

“Here, God I love your hands.” You moved his hands to cup your butt. The short skirt had riled up due to your position, making the man shudder once his hands laid on your skin.

His eyes diverted from your face to your cleavage, the off the shoulder blouse gave him a nice view of your boobs.

“You want to touch them?” You asked softly, as he looked up at you with his pretty glossy eyes.

Jaehyun blushed at the question (and at the fact that we had been caught staring) but he couldn’t help himself before he was nodding yes. You puffed your chest up and waited until he moved his hands by himself. The man hesitated for a bit and slowly moved his hands up your body, stopping right at the hem of your shirt.

“You can take it off, that’s okay…” you assured him and his shaking hands started pulling your blouse up.

However, he was met with something he didn’t expect. You had decided to ditch the bra, your breasts revealing themselves as he removed your shirt. He gulped loudly and swore he could’ve passed out right then and there. Of course, he had seen women’s breasts before, in his anatomy class textbooks and some porn movies—but never in real life.

“You are so pretty…” he whispered really softly. You couldn’t help but blush, not used to guys being so sweet with you.

“Touch me.” And that’s when his hands made contact with your breasts. His hands were soft and strong, just like you imagined—even better actually. His pretty fingers kneaded your boobs, he was absolutely mesmerized by them.

You gasped when his thumb brushed past your nipples, alarming him.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asked worriedly.

Shaking your head, you kissed his lips before moving your hands down his torso and under his shirt. Your eyes almost popped out of your head when you felt the hard muscles under.

“Can I take it off?” You asked and he nodded. Even during the most intimate time, he was still his quiet self, but that wasn’t going to last long.

Jaehyun lifted his arms for you to remove his black tee. You swore you would start drooling at the sight—he was hotter than any guy you’ve ever been. Too bad for the girls that can never see past the fact that he’s a studious and shy person—hopefully after tonight, he was going to be all yours.

“Cute belly button.” You giggled and he groaned.

“Stop making fun of me…” he said again and hid his face under his arm.

“I am not! It is cute!” You said sweetly, “I can’t believe you’ve been hiding all this…”

“Can you sit on the sofa?” You asked and he lifted his head.

He stared at you for a bit and then did as you asked after you removed yourself from his lap. As soon as he sat, he grabbed a cushion to place over his lap.

“You don’t need to hide it, baby. I’ll help you with that…” You said and he blushed.

He watched intently as you stood up from the floor to stand before him. Your pretty boobs sat right in front of his face and he couldn’t help but stare. You saw him lick his lips and you knew what he was thinking.

“Do it.” He hummed, confused at what you meant. “Put them in your mouth.”

“Oh- I… I’m-“

“You want to, no?” He just stared at you, red as a strawberry. “You can tell me, I won’t tease you. I promise.”

Jaehyun dipped his head towards your body but stopped before touching your skin. You bit your lip at the action, he kept stopping and while he didn’t mean to—it was almost as if he was teasing you.

“Are you sure this is not a prank?” His eyes glistened as he looked up at you.

“Not at all.” His heart sped up at a hundred miles per hour. The look on your face almost made him melt, the way you stared into his eyes told him you were being honest.

He couldn’t believe you actually liked him—or well, at least were attracted to him. He’d have his time to ask if you want him as a boyfriend or just as a fuck buddy.

You were lost in thought when you felt soft lips press on the valley of your breasts. The strands of his hair falling from the front tickled your body, so you tucked them behind his ears.

“Is that okay?” He asked as he trailed his kisses up your chest and over your boobs.

“Yes, baby. That feels good.” You smiled and with that he poked his tongue out to lap at your nipple, making you gasp.

“Did I hurt you?” Jaehyun asked worriedly.

“No, baby. I’m just sensitive there, you’re doing a great job, beautiful…” he hummed and sucked on your bud, a soft moan leaving your lips.

He swirled his tongue around the bud, slurping around your skin. Your hands played with his hair as he switched to your other nipple.

“Mmm, that feels so good, baby…” his hands roamed around your back and bottom. “Such a good boy…”

He came up for air, lips and chin glistening from the sloppy way he was sucking your tits. You took that opportunity to tilt his chin and kiss him again, you could easily get addicted to his lips.

“Let me make you feel good, okay?” He nodded drowsily and you dropped to your knees.

His breath hitched when your hand rubbed his hard-on over his pants. Your fingers hooked on his waistband and removed his sweats, leaving him in his boxers.

“Are you okay with this, Jae?” You asked when you saw him breathing quickly. “Have you ever been with a girl, pretty boy?”

“D-does a, uhm,” he scratched his temple as he stuttered. “A ha-handjob count?” He whispered the last part.

Truth is, he wasn’t—technically—a virgin. A few years back he had gone to one of Yuta’s parties (forced by his friends), where he had hit it off with the girl he had a crush on for the longest time, who had seemed to be interested in him until they got to one of the bedrooms and well, she gave him a handjob. Which didn’t end so well… He had cum in less than 5 seconds, which turned her off and she ghosted him after that.

“Hmm, what a bitch. I would never do you like that, baby.” You said. “If you want me to stop, don’t feel shy to tell me, baby.”

He whined when your lips touched his dick over the fabric of his underwear. You glided your tongue over his clothed bulge and saw him tense up.

Hooking your fingers on his waistband, you removed his underwear. A loud gasp left your lips when you saw his pretty pink cock standing proudly. Your cheeks flushed to the deepest shade they could get and your face was warm.

“Is-is there something wrong? Do you- do you not like it?” He started asking a bunch of questions, worried that you might not be attracted to him anymore.

“No!” You said a little too fast. “I mean- no, not at all. You’re just… really big.”

“O-oh. I’m… is that a bad thing?” He asked, blushing like crazy.

“What? No, no. Nothing could ever be wrong with you, pretty boy.” You pulled him down and kissed him. “Now, let me make you feel good okay? Relax…”

You grabbed his dick in your hand and pumped his length a few times, small whines and moans leaving his lips. After pooling some saliva in your tongue, you poked it out to lick his tip, a loud groan resonating from him. You swirled your tongue around his tip before going down on him.

“Oh!” He let out a loud moan and you pressed your legs together.

The deeper his dick was down your throat, the louder his moans got. It was driving you insane! All of the sounds he made were heavenly, and you couldn’t understand how someone could be turned off by him being this whiny and cute.

His tip hit the back of your throat and you gagged a bit, tears forming in your eyes. You bobbed your head a little faster, before coming up for air. When he saw your face like that, something switched in him. He absolutely loved the sight of your teary eyes and the string of saliva that connected your lips to his cock—it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen, way better than any of the over-exaggerated porn videos he’d watched before.

A soft hum left your throat when his hand came down to pet your hair. He was the sweetest guy you’ve ever been with, and you could tell he was genuinely sweet—it wasn’t just his lack of experience.

You kissed down his shaft and sucked on his balls, making him moan louder than before. He was going to drive you crazy with his moans, it was just so sexy. You left his cock to kneel up and kiss his chest. Trailing kisses and leaving marks from collarbones down to his pecs, and down his abs. You also took some time to tease his nipples with your tongue as he whined.

“Ah, _____,” he moaned and threw his head back. “I’m- s’good…” Jaehyun moaned as your hand worked on his dick and your tongue on his nipples.

“I know, baby. I know…” you cooed when you saw his face. His mouth was agape and his eyes fluttered shut, his cheeks and chest were blushed to the prettiest shade of pink.

“Hmm, I love that…” he whimpered when you when back to sucking his dick.

The feeling of your tongue was driving him mad, he couldn’t understand the feeling he had. His lower stomach was feeling funny and it was way more intense than the time he had with his past crush.

His whimpers and sobs were making you wet. You gagged around his length when his hand grabbed your hair harshly.

“I-I’m sor- ah!” He had absolutely no control over his body, he could’ve sworn he was going to pass out at any second.

The man couldn’t help himself and let out loud moans and whimpers of your name and other slurred profanities—which only made you want him more, not being used to such words ever coming out of his pretty mouth.

“I c-can’t hold it in, b-baby.” The petname made your heart flutter.

You kept bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks as his moans grew louder and louder. His grip on your head intensified as he climaxed. His warm cum filled your throat as you swallowed around him.

He groaned as you sucked him dry and removed him from your mouth to catch your breath. Your pretty eyelashes dampened from the tears that were falling off your eyes from trying to fit him in. Jaehyun’s hand that was on your hair came down to caress your cheek softly as he struggled to control his breathing.

“Did you like that, angel?” You asked and you melted into his touch, staring up at him, who was laying back on the couch.

He nodded and moved to pet your hair. You smiled and sat up to help him put his underwear back on before standing up and straddling him on the sofa.

“You did so well, baby.” You cooed and kissed his pout and his pink cheeks.

“I should return the favor…” he said softly and you shook your head.

“I don’t want to tire you, we’ll do that next time…” you smirked and he chuckled nervously.

You couldn’t help but cling to him, hugging him tight and resting your head on his shoulder, while his arms moved to circle your waist and his fingers caressed your skin.

“Did you mean what you said?” You asked genuinely after a few seconds. “About me being pretty?” he nodded and looked down at you.

“You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” You couldn’t help but hug him tighter. His tone was sincere and his eyes told you he actually thought you were beautiful. It filled your heart, it felt like it would explode at any second.

“I really like you, Jaehyun.” You confessed. “Not only, like… physically, but I think you are very sweet and smart and kind and… well, perfect.”

He blushed and kissed your forehead.

“I promise I’m not messing with you. I genuinely like you a lot. I was also not kidding about me failing class because of you.” He hummed. “I truly can’t concentrate with you next to me.” He chuckled softly.

“I really like you too. I never thought you’d like me back.” He said softly. “No one ever does…”

“Well, their loss! Cause you’re mine now!” You grinned. “If you accept to be my boyfriend.”

“I’ve never had a girlfriend before, I don’t know if I’d be the best boyfriend…” he answered.

“I don’t care. I’ll be your first girlfriend!” You giggled. “And hopefully your last, too.”

“What was that?” He blushed.

“I love your cheeks, they are so pretty!” You said and squished them. “I still need you to tutor me, though. I can’t fail this class.”

“Anything for you…” he smiled and kissed your temple.

Jaehyun walked into the building quietly, holding his books to his chest in hopes that no one would suspect a thing. He wore a turtleneck to hide the little gifts you had left the night before after your g first date.

“Had a great night?” Taeyong asked, smirking. His friends approached him as he made his way to his class.

“Uh… studying. Yes.” Jaehyun responded.

“Yeah right…” Johnny squinted his eyes and smirked.

“Oh hey, _____!” Yuta said as he saw you approach them behind the dimpled guy. “We missed you at the party!”

“Oh yeah, I had to study.” You said and looked at Jaehyun, a purple mark peeking on the back of his neck, under his turtleneck and your eyes widened as you pulled it up a little.

His shoulders moved up as your fingers tickled his neck.

“Isn’t it funny how you both had to study on the same night?” Johnny asked.

“Well, we have the same class.” Jaehyun retorted.

“Oh yeah?” Taeyong hummed.

“Yep! Now, if you excuse us, we need to get to class or the professor will kill me.” You smiled and placed your hand on Jaehyun’s waist.

“Hmm… okay…” Yuta said. “Next time cover the hickeys better.”

“Hickeys? What hickeys?” Jaehyun chuckled nervously before you turned him over by the shoulders.

“Jaehyun!” you scolded as you saw a big purple hickey peeking right by his ear.

“Sorry! I didn’t know how to use the powder you gave me!” He whined, red as a tomato.

Your friends laughed out loud, making fun of their newly corrupted friend.

“Hey! Leave my baby alone!” You said. “Here, let me cover it for you.” You said taking out a small powder and concealer kit from your purse.

“So are y’all a thing now? Or just… y’know…” Johnny clicked his tongue and raised his eyebrows.

“None of your business.” You said as you applied powder on the mark. “But he’s my boyfriend now, so I’ll kick your ass if you keep on teasing him.”

“Ooh!!! Jeong Jaehyun has a girlfriend finally!” The guys hollered and he blushed.

“There you go, pretty boy. Now, let’s go to class and pass the exam.” You grabbed his hand and pulled him with you.

“Yeah, pretty boy, go to class.” Taeyong hollered while Yuta whistled and Johnny laughed.

You both entered the classroom and your professor furrowed his eyebrows, confused at the fact that you hung from Jaehyun’s arm.

“I’m guessing the tutoring session went well?” He chuckled.

“Best idea you’ve ever had!”

NEOYUNO 2022

#jaehyun #jaehyun smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #smut #jaehyun scenario #nct 127 #nct #jaehyun au #nct blurbs #nct drabbles #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 reactions #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst

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goldyluna · 6 months

Text

I just had an impuls of drawing Sara and Shin with wings and it became an AU. Everything began with one "what if"! And then it became this. Your Turn To Die: Purgatory Trials.

In the world between life and death is a Purgatory. A place where people have a chance to go back to live, to their homes and loved ones. But if they can't do that, their existence will stay only in the hearts of living. As everyone suddenly appear in an unfamiliar place, they find themselves with two easy choices. Play Games to Live or Die.

And there are these things. They call themselves Guardians of Purgatory. They looked like fallen angels, with no way to say for sure if they were there to really guard them. Will they be of any help or everyone's destined to perish?

Second part here and third part here

Below, you can read my "little" ranting about characters! (There may be spoilers if you didn't finish the game)

Guardians may or may not be bad. Even if they don't have evil intentions, their own existence makes others nervous and uncomfortable. Their appearance is too grand and too vague to feel secure in most cases. They feel godly-like and omnipotent. Their faces blank, without expression. And even if they can't do anything serious, they can't hurt anyone with their hands... How could you trust someone in a place like this?

I will write their normal names as I have no idea how to name them differently and what they could represent (like "Laughing Doll" or "Crying Doll"). I really wanted everyone to have clothes and elements resembling their oryginal selves. To give them things that symbolize them.

Sara Chidouin - She is our main protagonist in YTTD, but here she is one of the Guardians. Her voice is strong but gentle. Her movements are with purpose. She will most likely try to help children or people who aren't doing well. Sara isn't innocent. We know that in simulations, she could be ruthless. I don't say that she is evil and a demon with angels face. Everyone except Shin sees her as a good person that they could trust. I wanted her to look so open, so graceful and kind, but at the same time, I gave her horns covering her face and dark wings. Not because I think she is more on a bad side, but to highlight how she is. Kind and wanting everyone to live and escape, but being able to wreak havoc if she felt like she needed it. In the end, she could have any personality a player chose for her. I think I did her a justice with her design.

Gin Ibushi - He, honestly, gave me trouble with the design. Especially with clothes. I knew I wanted him to have a mask and wanted him to be warm. Warm in colors, expression, pose. Warm with attitude to others. He, as a Guardian, is the most liked one. Almost nobody can hate him. He likes to play and usually helps others in a trade for playing with him. He never would do anything bad to anyone, but because he seems as the most naive and weak one of fallen angels, there are people that want to hurt him to try leave any other way than win the Games. Gin would never hurt someone back, but fortunately (or unfortunatelyto those that did the unforgivable), other Guardians aren't that good to not get rid of the offender.

Shin Tsukimi - He and Sara were my first "Angels" to sketch. He is also a little villainous in the game, but he still is one of my favorites. I can understand him, even if I think he could do things differently. His whole persona in this AU may be a little biased by me and my vision about him. Especially that this is an AU. He, as the Guardian, isn't trusted by others that much at first. He doesn't really go all his way to help others and sometimes ignores those who need his assistance. He usually can be seen near Kanna and then is more likely to say something useful. He can help, too, if he thinks someone can give or tell him something he needs. Why would he need anything? Doesn't he know and have everything? And why does he have this key?

He also has the wound on his chest as a connection to someone... that you will see in next character chart xD and kinda to his death in ch2.

I still am figuring this AU and have another 3 "Angels" in making. But for now, have this thee!

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desultory-novice · 8 months

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heya dess!

about ten million years ago i sent you an elaborate ramble about galacta knight's moral status. this isn't calling you out for not answering (i literally sent you a wall of text) and my opinions have since changed anyway, but i remembered this recently and got morbidly curious about your own take on gk's moral status. dw though... if you don't want to answer this one either, that's ok!

I pride myself on liking every Kirby character. That said, I never loved Galacta Knight. Curse of the over-hyped character? He was too cool. Too beloved. "When's Galacta going to become canon??"

And, just to be petty/salty for a moment, that he had no concrete persona except "See something; kill it" but has been frequently (?) made into the softiest, gentlest woobie amongst the cast next to Kirby (also his existence influenced a lot about Kirby's portrayal in the fandom, ie: "When's he gonna get HIS wings???", and he and Meta together became the template for what everyone's Knight-sonas would look like, meaning that being a cool orb in armor became more commonplace than rare) just caused me to get bored with him real quick, I think? </SALT>

COUGH!

...But I did some looking back at Galacta for this ask and... I can see the charm! I still don't see the "wooby" part (Which I assume has something to do with the "wrongly framed" theory) but I'm growing to respect Galacta as a character of interest. With that out of the way, let's tackle some of the things you brought up in your old ask as well as my own feelings on where the Aeon Hero sits as "a hero!"

...

It's all very interesting, isn't it? One thing that stood out to me, doing some research on this matter for this ask is that Hyness's speech implies (at least, it implied to me) that one of Galacta's other great deeds alongside helping seal Void was defeating Nightmare.

("Nightmare of a Galactic Crisis" just seems too potently worded for me to believe otherwise. The Japanese even matches up.)

But if Galacta defeated Nightmare... what the HELL was Parallel Nightmare thinking by summoning him to fight on his behalf?! (Ignore the fact that Galacta immediately destroys him. The key is that Nightmare either thought he could control the Aeon Hero or that the Aeon hero would share his goals. Which is FASCINATING~!)

I can't help but think that Galacta's story has some serious twists...

There's another thing, that may be referring back to the "destroy a planet or two" thing and that's Galacta's sealing. He's sealed in crystal and of course some people have made the connection between Galacta's crystal cage and the fairies of Ripple Star. (Usually with the queen of the fairies having a MUCH bigger role than anticipated.)

But like, there's a thing I just realized was in his Planet Robobot flavor text that isn't in the English version. (I know it's a matter of the pause screen text not having enough room for the twice-as-long English but why's it always gotta be Planet Robobot XD )

"Records remain of his being sealed in many different eras."

One could argue that it's all the same sealing but why would multiple different eras need to record the same guy getting sealed if he were only sealed away ONCE. So, that's interesting. Galacta's seal was never permanent.(1) In fact, it seems to be frequently un-permanent. So they have room to cause villainous havoc between freeings.

(For a borb who looks like an angel, he's doing a really good job acting like your classic "Sealed for 100 years but never destroyed 'Demon King.'" I guess that's what makes him and Meta Knight such interesting compliments. The noble devil and the demonic angel? Well, we still haven't decided if Galacta's demonic yet.)

And speaking of the strength of Galacta's seal, I found a weird little detail looking up his fight in RtDL DX. (I had to watch a recording because I spent my whole fight with him screaming in terror and spamming guard because I had exactly one HP left and didn't want to die before reaching Magolor Soul. Thank you, Sand ability!)

In RtDL, the Crystal descends and Galacta slowly opens one eye and then the other. But this changed for DX! Galacta descends with both eyes open. Which shouts consciousness to me.

...I'm rambling away from the topic of whether Galacta is a hero or not. Don't mind me. I'll try to pivot back in good time.

Actually, let's pivot back a little now, because in USDX, he's not summoned from his crystal state, he's just summoned. Which makes sense because like... going entirely by the cutscene, it looks like Galactic Nova actually transports Galacta through time to fight Meta Knight. Like, Galacta in the middle of their villain phase!

We do see Galacta sealed in crystal immediately after this image is shown, but the Nova doesn't bring the sealed Galacta before Meta Knight. Star Dream does. I wonder if that's a difference in power between the two clockwork stars? But I think this "where Galacta was snatched from" is probably the real reason Gala utterly demolishes Star Dream but doesn't attack Galactic Nova. The Gala that Star Dream summons has already been sealed/betrayed/etc.

They don't trust anyone. The Gala that Nova summons is at the height of their "feared across the galaxy" phase but has not yet been captured or has reason to fear capture/re-capture.

...And then you have the Galacta that Morpho Knight absorbs. What's funny about that Gala, and kind of tragic, is that Gala seems to be the calmest of the three. I say this because they actually pause when Morpho comes near. They even look...cutely (!) confused.

So, did Hyness summon a Galacta that was even earlier in his timeline than the one Nova summoned? Which was earlier in his timeline than the one Star Dream summoned?

Although where in Gala's timeline is RtDL?? Galacta appears before us in crystal, is then released, and actually FLIES OFF after defeat without being resealed. Is this the Galacta that "destroys a planet or two?" The opening of the RtDL rift after the crystal prison reforms suggests that it was the Planet Robobot Galacta that would go on to appear in RtDL, who then flies off and... maybe it's that Galacta that appears in Star Allies, to meet his end at Morpho's hands...

By the way, I totally forgot that Morpho does the "friend heart"/"friend move" thing to Galacta before absorbing him! (Dess is beginning to think that maybe the reason I didn't have strong feelings for Galacta Knight is because I just never stopped to pay attention to all the little things that make them interesting!)

So Gala has an interesting timeline and we can see that their level of aggression really depends on where in the timeline you find them. I don't think they were a planet destroying monster when they were first sealed. At least, their most "murderous" incarnation (Robobot) is implied to have gone through some ~stuff~ even AFTER the sealing.

But the fact that (Parallel) Nightmare considers them a potential ally suggests that they were...hmm, "problematic" to certain people toward the tail end of their "Aeon Hero" phase. Those people probably being the Ancients.

La la la~ I smell a cover-up~ la la la~

And so, we're back to the "Galacta was framed?!" theory. To be honest, I don't know what was up with the image Galactic Nova shows us above of Gala in the smoking wreckage but it's important to note that we don't see WHAT it is that Galacta has destroyed.

And while the Magolor epilogue implies Halcandra was destroyed in a great meteoric firestorm of some kind, I would just like to note that Halcandra at that point would have also been potentially ruled (?) by a monarch who quite possibly wore The Master Crown. An object that has been as much as stated to have been poisoning/poisoned by the previous bearers so, yeah. I don't think Halcandra would have been in a good place, if a crown-bearer sat on the throne.

(And wouldn't killing a king and destroying their country/planet be considered something worthy of taking Galacta's title of "hero" away from them and labelling them a galactic level threat?)

So, yes. I think Galacta's "moral" status depends on where in the timeline you are. I don't think they were ever "evil" but I think they probably a dangerous sort of "good-hearted extremist" era in the past and in their later years, that devolved into an aggressive and paranoid "As far as I'm concerned EVERYONE is an enemy and you'd better believe I'm not letting them strike the first blow!"

There's some Gala thoughts to chew on!

Happy Birthday, Galacta Knight!

(1) Honestly, I wonder if the crystal thing is less of a "seal" and more of a curse? :Dess's mind hears "fairy curse" and starts vibrating: It could be something that affects them intermittently? We've seen Galacta be "destroyed" in USDX (amusingly, their wings "pop" off. Although that is the only time that happens so could be retconned) Anyway, it's not their destruction that causes the seal. Sometimes they just fly off after defeat too! (To destroy more planets??)

This implies there's another trigger for when they become crystal...

But speaking of the "crystal," RtDL DX in Japanese specifically mentions that their seal is actually made of "gem" - the same "gem" used in "Gem Apples." Which going by the Magolor Epilogue, gem apples appear to represent either a) magic power b) the soul or c) the Master Crown. I don't think it's made clear which exactly, because all three are kind of muddled together in Magolor's case. But the fact that there ARE those connections with "gems" + Galacta's "gem" seal activating intermittently is all just VERY interesting to me.

Now go and speculate away, my pretties~!

#Kirby #Galactic Knight #Dess Ramblings #Dess Theories #TLDR Dess continues to warm up to Galacta Knight!

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altocat · 2 months

Note

“Which is the better version for me tbh.” I always kinda had a problem with orginal Design. I feel Dissdia version is better and also add to fact Sephiroth still has his limbs and “evolved” verison of his Masamune. Swordmenship is one his key traits afterall

What I like about Safer's Dissidia design is that it is both angelic and monstrous at the same time. He looks very much like something regal and divine, but then you also notice his rather demonic claws and how something about the wing feels a bit distorted. His colors are slightly darker than the older design. It feels like Sephiroth has ascended, but he can't completely hide what he really is under the surface.

Plus yeah, Masamune didn't just automatically disappear. He still has it with him, except now it feels more like the kind of weapon a pseudo god would have.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #asks #sephcanons #sephiroth #safer sephiroth

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tomatoteddy · 11 months

Text

Sooo, remember when I proposed the idea of a magical girl Milgram au?

Anyways, I'm calling it the MILGRAM Magica AU now, here's my Es design for the au:

Their design was originally going to look more like their canon design, but then I thought “mmmm guardian angel theme cause they’re supposed to look over the prisoners ☺️☺️” and I went “ME, YOU’RE SUCH A GENIUS!!!” so I pulled out the white and gold

I replaced their huge coat with a cape that’s supposed to resemble wings cause the coat was getting annoying for me to draw haha. They also have the angel wings on their boots and Jackalope has the wings too

I put their chain of keys on their shorts instead of their collar as I replaced it with a traditional magical girl bow and gemstone (is this the henshin item? idk 🤷‍♀️ i haven’t any idea for the transformation items yet)

Jacaklope is their companion in this AU, and he does look practically the same except for the colour changes and the wings on his back. He’s able to fly and speak with Es and other magical warriors, but is also able to transform into a form that looks more traditionally rabbit-like (he pretends to be Es’ pet rabbit, but hates being called a rabbit as he finds pride in being a magical being)

#tomatoteddy art #art #artists on tumblr #milgram #milgram es #es #milgram au #milgram magica #magical girl #magical girl au #magical girl (but like gender neutral)#ill post more about the lore later im tired *snore mimimimi snore mimimimi*

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luckyy19 · 7 months

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GENRE: fantasy (somewhere between urban and high), more character driven than plot driven POV: Third person limited, multiple POVs, past tense STATUS: I don't even know anymore. This is technically the third draft but it's also a rewrite soo... PROJECTED WORD COUNT: between 90k-115k; first in a series THEMES: art as a tool for social change, art as the opposition to war, the innate power and beauty of humanity CONTENT WARNINGS: Addiction (moderate), alcohol consumption (moderate), blood, death, violence I'm sure there will be more added later

SYNOPSIS

Allow me to elucidate. You were found to be hiding aves from us. That’s a punishable offense, here. Doubled, considering where I found you. Holed up in the other world, thinking you were safe. What a fool you were. All of the angels are dead. At least, that's what the crown would like you to believe. But Erica Bolvade, heir to the throne of Katalxi and daughter of the ruthless Killian Bolvade, knows firsthand this is a lie. Sent to the other world--the one with no magic and warmth and humans--to hunt down angels and drag them back to face their deaths, Erica can finally begin the first step of her own plan. Most people would need time to grapple with the decision, but after the deaths of her mother and her lover at her father's hand, Erica's revenge can't come soon enough. Apollo Mack, exhausted artist and circumstantial guardian to his teenage cousin, Kaylie, has a high tolerance for the fantastical. He paints people who cannot exist and worlds that never will. He makes enough for the two of them to survive in relative comfort and wonders if he made a deal with the devil somewhere along the way. And he hears about all of the teen angst occurring with Kaylie and her friends--especially when it pertains to Gwendolyn Vale and the fate that comes with wings. He really would have preferred boy drama. As Erica's path crosses with Apollo's, they become entangled in a world of war and politics, wings and magic. Rebellion is brewing, and Erica intends to help them in whatever way she can, turning the people around her into pieces of her chess game. And somehow, she's certain, Apollo's humanity and artistry will be the key they've been missing all along.

MAIN/POV CHARACTERS

Apollo Mack: 26, artist (specifically painter, but also draws), human, charming, bisexual disaster I character intro I

Erica Bolvade: 23, Princess of Katalxi, daemonium/demon, fire magic, hard exterior soft interior I character intro I

Kaylie Waterman: 19, aves/angel (black wings), places too much responsibility on herself, believes in fate/destiny I character intro I

Gwendolyn Vale: 18, aves/angel (white wings), preppy exterior exhausted interior, can't settle on a hobby to save her life I character intro I

SECONDARY CHARACTERS

Skylar & Dylan: 18 & 18, Kaylie and Gwen's friends, humans, affectionately referred to as "the Merry and Pippin" by me except they aren't nearly as important I character intros I

Korinne: 22, banshee, mute, ex-priestess of Myra (Goddess of Death), assassin for the king, friend & servant to Erica I character intro I

Gabriel & Evander: 24 & deceased (brothers), aves (gray & iridescent), Princes of [REDACTED], magic unknown; Evander was 21 at time of death and romantically involved with Erica

Raquelle & Crimson: 20 & 19 (siblings), kelpies, nobility through their mother although their family was denounced; Raquelle acts as a lady's maid to Erica, Crimson fled and has yet to be found I character intro—Raquelle I

Alexander "Ace" & Evelynne "Eve": 24 (twins), aves/angels (gold wings), fire magic, guards of the aves heirs; Eve had her wings removed prior to FWBS and is presumed dead, Ace fled in the aftermath

Arielle: 234, ???, looks like a daemonium, manager of the "Circus of the Stars," fortune teller I character intro I

Festus: 156, ???, looks like an incubus, owns a bar in Katalxi, always smells of wine I character intro I

Selected Excerpts:

Apollo & Kaylie

Random Snippets

Apollo Reflects

Gwen's Late Night Thoughts

Erica & Apollo Chat: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

#writeblr #wip intro #wip: fwbs #that's right i've got another one #remember when i said zodiac would be my main project this year? me either #i'm so excited to finally get this to a place i'm proud of #at about 30k as of posting!

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green-t-ea · 1 year

Note

V2 QUESTIONS?? CAN DO, CAPTAIN

PLEASE PLEASE TELL ABOUT WHAT'S UP WITH V1 HAVING THE WHIPLASH. HOW DID THE CLAIR DE LUNE FIGHT GO. DID THEY KISS IMMEDIATELY OR DID IT TAKE UNTIL GREED OR LATER

Okay so! So!

You've seen in my art that sometimes v1 has the whiplash, sometimes the knuckleblaster, and sometimes V2 has the knuckleblaster or whiplash, ect! The reasoning is kinda multi-layered

Robots have a different morality to humans angels ect. They have been built to be torn apart and to put themselves back together without a moments notice. The machines don't actually care if they have lost parts or not, the goal is simply survival.

V1 stole v2's knuckle blaster after the clair de lune fight, V2 is not vengeful because of this surprisingly, it's normal to try and collect tools weapons and parts that will make survival easier, so V2 dosent hold a grudge that v1 took his arm, v1 beat him, then took the greatest weapon he could from him. BUT because of how V2 is designed the knuckleblaster is incredibly important for how he is built to fight. So V2 builds the whiplash arm to compensate and goes chasing after v1 to try and get it back.

Yet there is no true malice because of this. Robots don't hold grudges, so swapping parts like that is actually very common place.

Now after V2 is defeated in greed v1 most likely takes the whiplash as well, (V2 survives the greed fight in my little version of events because I say so) by the time V2 catches up to V1 in heresy however v1 has an enormous arsenal of weapons. In fact v1 has to many to juggle at this point, between the 3 arms and the pistol, shotgun, railgun, rocket launcher, nail gun, and all of the alternates of these guns he has way to many different options that are slowing him down. (And by this point both bots have kind of realized they would much rather work together then fight one another because each time they fight they get much closer to death). V1 decides to give V2 the knuckleblaster back, and from then on the two frequently trade arms around (except V2 refuses to use v1's arm because it's much much to small on him and he sucks at parrying) hence V2 sometimes having 1 or 2 right arms interchangeably

Okay for your other questions now even if I did sort of give some of it away already

The clair de lune fight was an absolute shit show. Up until this point v1 and V2 haven't interacted much, they knew the other existed (V2 was trained off footage of v1, and was compared to it very frequently, while v1 has never before seen V2 but did know another v model was in testing before the fall of man). So V2 was already in a position of rivalry with v1 from the get go, while v1 had no fucking idea who V2 was and why it looked the same as him. As v1 does his first reaction to seeing a robot burst through a window was immediately to go "I want that Twink obliterated" and to try and kill V2.

V1 ends up beating the shit out of V2 until he drops his arm in defeat and runs away.

Unfortunately these 2 gay robots did not kiss right away, after the clair de lune fight V2 did very quickly realize he enjoyed getting his ass kicked by V1, decided he needed to get his arm back but also that he wouldn't mind brawling with v1 again. (V2 is very very gay) while v1 was to busy kicking Gabe's ass and getting his ass kicked in return to think about V2. During Greed is the point where v1 kind of realizes that V2 is low-key flirting with him. V1 is a little busy still trying to figure out how to flirt with Gabe. And by the time of the heresy fight V2 and v1 are kind of sort of together and definitely in love even if they haven't so much discussed it, and both of them are simultaneously trying to flirt with Gabe. Both of them are the others wing man.

#ultrakill #v1 #v2 #gabriel ultrakill #asks #kind of long winded but it all needed to be said #thanks for sending in an ask

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half-oz-eddie · 2 years

Text

My twist on a Kas!Eddie and Undead (lost soul) Chrissy

“Your life is fading from you, boy…”

Eddie fights to open one eye, his breathing labored.

Surely as he’s on death’s door, he’s hallucinating.

‘It’s one of those…god damn bats…’ He thought to himself, heaving angrily, unable to even feel the ground beneath his fingertips as he lied in the darkness of the Upside Down.

“Do you wish to have your life restored?”

‘Who the hell is talking to me? Am I going to hell? Is that why…’

A dark chuckle bellowed. “Don’t be so naive, you are still in the other world. The world which you have named the Upside Down. We used to be ungovernable, before the arrival of Henry.”

‘You mean that freak that’s been killing everyone?’

“The very same. When he arrived all those years ago, he tried to take control of all beings here, using his abilities to subdue us.”

‘Let me guess…except you, right?’

“Many of us have formed a resistance. We refuse to be under his control. He has polluted our land and turned it into his own sorts of hell, trapping human souls in his own purgatory.”

Eddie’s mind went blank. His life was fading fast.

“You have only but a moment, boy. Decide quickly. Do you wish to save the girl?”

Eddie’s eyes sprang open as newfound strength entered his body. “Who? Chrissy?”

“The one you dedicated your Ode to. Do you wish to save her?”

‘She’s dead.’

“She is not dead. As I told you, this has become a purgatory for souls. There is no moving on from here. While she exists in this realm, she still lives.

‘What can I do?’

“Make a covenant with us. We wish to rid this realm of Henry and the souls he has trapped. I’m exchange, we will give you mobility and strength beyond your wildest imagination.”

‘If I agree to this, will you take me to her? Will you take me to Chrissy?’

“We will take you to the place where Henry keeps all of the souls he has collected. Surely the girl is being kept there, but be forewarned, once you take one of the keys, everything will become unstable, and Henry will chase you to the ends of the earth.”

‘Who gives a shit? If it’ll lure him out, that will be a good thing for everyone.’

“Very well then. So you agree? You will enter a covenant with us, and become an angel of darkness?”

‘So I’ll be a demon, huh? Guess there’s no redemption for me. Bring it on.’

Eddie felt everything slowly fade and when he opened his eyes, he was standing on his feet in a dark room, with a shadow puddle of water beneath his feet. There was a dark, sinister mirror image of himself standing before him, glaring at him with blood red eyes.

“Come, Edward Munson. We shall become one.” It reached its hand out for Eddie’s.

He reluctantly approached and the darker image of himself turned to smoke and passed through his body.

Eddie opened his eyes and sat up. He felt like he’d completely recovered, but he knew he wasn’t himself. He could feel something protruding from his back, like an extra limb.

“Jesus Christ, I have wings now?!” He looked at his hands. His once unkept finger nails were now black claws.

He touched his face, his skin was rough. He touched his mouth, his dull teeth were now fangs.

He began to worry about his new appearance. Would it scare Chrissy, and the others?

Perhaps now wasn’t the time to worry about that.

He could no longer hear that dark, mysterious voice, but now, he had many intuitive thoughts and enhanced hearing.

Not only that…he could feel Chrissy. The bright, warm energy of her soul—he could sense it.

He picked up his makeshift weapons, dropping them the moment they entered his hands. “I probably don’t need those anymore.”

He followed a long, winding road to the Upside Down version of the Creel house. Flying probably would have been faster, but he had no clue how to use those wings yet.

He stood in front of the house, blood thirsty to dig his claws into Vecna himself when he encountered Chrissy’s contorted body.

“Her soul isn’t here.” He said as he freed her body from the vines, attempting to straighten out her limbs.

She would need a vessel to return to, and this would have to do. Her cheerleading uniform was horribly shredded, and he did everything possible to avoid looking at her body.

He draped his jacket over her body and approached the ticking grandfather clock.

“I need to…break it open?”

He punched the grandfather clock, and dozens of spiders crawled out

Several souls attempted to escape, floating around aimlessly.

This would be impossible under any other circumstances. They all looked exactly the same. But there was one that hadn’t even floated out of the broken clock.

“C’mon. It’s okay. I’ll take care of you.” He said softly, reaching his hand out for the white, glowing ball.

The ball floated into his hand and he knew that sensation—that warmth from Chrissy sitting next to him in his car.

This was her—not a doubt about it.

He slowly and ever so gently walked over to her body and set her soul on top of it.

“I know it’s a little messed up, but this is the only way I can bring you back.”

Her soul floated into her body, and her body began to glow.

She sat up slowly, letting out a loud gasp.

“Chrissy! Oh my God, Chrissy!” He pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I—“

“I heard your music. I’m so…glad you came for me.” She softly smiled.

“I had to! This was all my fault.”

“No, it wasn’t. That monster was after me for awhile. I just didn’t tell anyone, because I didn’t think they would believe me.”

“I’m gonna get you out of here, but we gotta go—now!”

“Eddie I can’t…I can’t feel my legs.”

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” He lifted her up as the upside down began to rumble. “I’m gonna run as fast as I can and get you the hell out of here.”

“Okay.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t say anything about my appearance. Am I that ugly?”

“I…I can’t see, either.”

“God dammit! I’m so sorry, Chrissy.”

“It’s alright. I would much rather be alive like this, instead of in that dark place where I was trapped.”

“I’m going to take care of you from now on. No more running.”

Chrissy held onto Eddie’s neck as he readied his claws when Vecna stood in his way.

#Eddie Munson #hellcheer #kas eddie munson #undead Chrissy #hellcheer drabble

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upon-blades-twilight · 5 months

Text

Vergil's Bio & RP Hooks

Vergil Greed Sparda

The viola who's strings strain for his faith in humanity.

Age: 43 (Dmc5), 53 (Main Arc)

Height: 6'4

Race: Half demon, half human

Relations: Older twin to Dante, Father to Nero and to a reborn V

Marital Status: Single and uninterested. He does have a deceased love interest from his past that he tried to protect.

Moral Alignment: Very grey. His outlook on others is very dim and untrusting, although he understands and wants to believe in true humanity. His empathy ends up concentrated mostly to those close to him, but it does stretch to the vulnerable. He struggles but is trying for the rest. In dire situations he will not hesitate to be greedy with his empathy. He will sacrifice others to keep his loved ones safe.

Personality: Cold yet gentle sums him up nicely. He is kind at the core, but his past trauma leaves him extremely guarded and distant most of the time. This is also the reason why his empathy is skewed; over protective of his loved ones and easy to abandon others. His upbringing also makes him an incredibly formidable foe, and his traumas can rarely render him feral.

Likes: Sparring, poetry, reading, music (plays violin, cello, and piano), Ieido, cooking, flowers (roses, forget me nots, lavender, lillies of the valley)

Dislikes: Pessimism, sleeping (usually results in nightmares if his constantly racing kind somehow manages to sleep), when he's forced to trust someone he otherwise doesn't trust, anything that could trigger haunting memories, anyone that's overly loud and rambunctious Abilities: He has much the same techniques and abilities as he does canonly in terms of battle. One key difference is his ability to manipulate space time with Yamato, which he's now much more adept at. It's not specific, but he's a lot more likely to alter his environment's tempo of time and through teleportation.

He does have great knowledge in alchemy and demonology however.

RP Hooks After Background

Background

His past is basically canon except for a few marked differences:

The Sparda family was actually a lot older where demons were much longer lived compared to humans. Their younger days were spent in the early 1800's, and still looked 18 by the time the events of Temen Ni Gru happened.

The woman that he used to be with was someone he loved very dearly, named Eloise. She was a priestess of the Church of Sparda, but she was also secretly an experimental subject from them, too.

She had a slight resemblance to the angelic-like creatures that they made. Pale, looked largely human, but had a small pair of immature angelic wings. However, she wasn't a demonic spirit trapped and enslaved inside of an armour like the rest. Instead, they tried putting the characteristics and power of their armours directly into her. While they were successfully doing so, it also caused her body to slowly degrade and begin to die.

In time, Vergil found out about her treatment and how her body started to fray at the seams. By then it was too late for any thoughts of revenge and instead went into a panicked hunt for anything to save her. She was dying and had very little time left, so it was do or die.

With everything he had researched thus far, he chose to use this knowledge to further his search for Sparda's power. This time it wasn't intended for selfish strength, but rather to use it as an ingredient for an elixir of life. This led to the events of Temen Ni Gru, and explained why he seemed very impatient and agitated through the course of DMC3.

Through all his research, he also learned about how devil powers awaken, especially Dante's in particular. At the very least Vergil knew his actions of removing the seal to the demon world would wreak havoc across the human realm. He also knew that, at the time, Dante wasn't ready for that. He wanted his recently re-found twin to live by letting him grow strong through the trials of the tower, and chose to awaken his demon powers himself by running him through with the Rebellion.

In the end, he failed to obtain that power. Dante was right in trying to stop him, as Vergil's unstable and drastic nature at the time would have ended with him losing control of his father's power. Who knows how things would've ended then.

With failure and the guaranteed death of someone very dear, he made sure Dante could escape, and chose suicide there after by throwing himself to Mundus. After all, a katana user never throws their sheath away, especially when it's incredibly important as an iaijutsu user. Unfortunately it wasn't death that would greet him when facing Mundus.

He had no idea that she became pregnant and had Nero.

~~~

When he returned, he did have his ups and downs at first. Mainly his mental state taking an extreme dive soon after the Qliphoth tree fell. There was too much going on at the time to let everything sink in yet. The torment he had endured over the years flooding back, finding out Nero is his son whom he unknowingly abandoned, facing the death of his mother Eloise, and the high levels of depression and critical levels of illness Dante had fallen to over the years. (He had mild symptoms as a child but time has caused them to grow into severe complications.)

For a while, he fell into an almost feral-like state. Dante chose to nurse him back, which he successfully did due time. From there, Vergil chose to stay with his twin. Dante needed the help due to his physical state and lack of money. Becoming his forever caregiver from then on was the least Vergil could do and as a means of redemption and to give back after everything that had happened between the two.

With the hunts for demons becoming more and more scarce, Vergil chose the route of a regular human's job to financially supply his twin. Eventually he took the alias 'Professor Jun' and became a professor at a nearby college for physics. He knew it well between his studies and due to how he used Yamato. On the side he was also a tutor for music, alchemy, and demonology.

As time went on, Vergil did often go back to the ruins of their mansion as a mix of searching what could be recovered and for nostalgia. One of these trips would be extremely fruitful with the findings of a small fortune. To be exact, it was savings and treasures he had found as a child and had stashed them in secrecy. By now these antiques were worth much more than they did back then.

Still, it was money that Dante refused to take since he felt like he didn't deserve it. No matter how much Vergil tried, his twin always refused it. The only way he could otherwise help Dante is to pay for things behind his back. Mainly his bills.

Otherwise, Vergil chose to rebuild their old home, knowing there would be plenty of the fortune still left after. He also knew the space was needed between Nero's growing family and due to having V back as a second son. He also wanted it to be prepared for Dante for whenever his health took a dive.

This is where Vergil primarily lived now. He still took care of Dante and kept a close eye on him. Yamato's teleportation became a great asset in this regard. He also still continued his teachings as a Professor.

Sadly, he couldn't be content. Not when he knew his twin's health was failing. Just as he did with Eloise, Vergil spent most of his free time studying and in search of a way to help Dante. He could only hope he wouldn't lose his mind like he did before.

By now, an entire ten years has passed since his return.

RP Hooks

Demon Hunter: Be it for hire or as a partner, Vergil is always willing to take up a job. If not for money to further help his twin's financial woes, then for the chance of a good challenge. He's ever craving for a good fight. He's still trying to understand empathy and trust, so he won't make a perfect partner.

Rival: A good rival comes naturally with his want of a good challenge. Only time will tell if a relationship with a rival will end up being a positive or negative one. As he's still learning empathy, there's a very good chance that an innocent could end up in the crossfire of his work.

Seeker of Power & Knowledge: He lusts for both very heavily. Much of his past trauma is based on his inability to protect others and his childhood self. These situations keep returning, currently in regards of his ailing younger twin. If you have the answers he's after, he will no doubt seek you out. Whether he'll take those answers by force or through naive faith in you, that's only something time will tell.

Guardian: There's always the off chance that he could be hired as a body guard. There's always a chance that something else could happen that may land him in such a role, especially if someone becomes vulnerable due to an attack or loss of family. Although empathy isn't something he has down entirely, he does have an instinct to cover the vulnerable. It's not unlikely to see him even carrying a kitten home.

Physics Professor & Tutor: Vergil's knowledge is vast thanks to several factors. It takes a certain understanding of space time to wield his shinken, Yamato, as a source of transportation. He has also gained much knowledge in demonology and alchemy in his quest to learn about his demon father and how to gain his power. Vergil also has a love for music, excelling especially in the piano, violin, and cello. There is also his prowess with fighting, especially with a sword. Anyone seeking to learn the above would do well to approach him. Or maybe you just happened to have him as a physics teacher in the college you frequent.Bookstores & Cafes: Both are places he highly enjoys for relaxing. A quiet atmosphere is a must for him to enjoy either. Sometimes he may be seen at an establishment as a part time employee if his twin's funding is feeling especially tight.

#[⚚𝔗𝔢𝔞 𝔅𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔲𝔦𝔱𝔰]#||𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝔽𝕒𝕚𝕥𝕙||

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writerfae · 5 months

Note

Another long ask!

How am I just now getting to Bendegúz when he's literally the secondary protagonist next to Adél? Shame on me!

Also an important world building thing I forgot to mention: you know how Endre can summon angel wings on his back? While ordinary people don't have magic they do have mechanical wings (except the kids (under 13) who have practice ones that can't fly high). They kinda look like backpacks.

So, Bendegúz (15) is the son of the capitan of the guard and Adél's best friend! They have known echother since they were babies! They spend every day together. (And their friendship is one of my favorite things)

Bendegúz is goofy, mischievous and brave (bold, reckless... same thing).

He wants to be a guard when he grows up, like his parents, and he is THE thing that keeps Adél, Ákos and himself alive in the swamp because he is the only one who knows anything about fighting or survival! Morons! I love them!

He's main weapon is a blue spear.

He was injured as a baby so he has a limp.

And, now there are things in his backstory that I don't want to go into just yet (I am sure you understand). What I will say is this: part of his character arc revolves around the fact that the other characters all see him as famiy, and they all thought it was so obvious that noone thought to tell him that! And for a whlie that was fine. He was happy to be their friend and only occasionally sulked about the fact that he wasn't family. When Ákos dissappeared though he completely neglected his own grief, always saying: I'm fine. He wasn't MY brother! I'm just worried about everyone else!

The others, particularly Adél know that something's up, but you can't really get Bendegúz to tell you what's wrong unless he wants to.

This of course ends with a scene in the middle of the book, where he's crying and Adél tells him: We're gonna rescue OUR little brother!

I want to get it across that Bendegúz is pretty happy with his life. There's not really secret pain hidden behind his jokes (or when there is it's really obvious)

Let me talk about him and Adél!

Their friendship is great for a couple of reasons.

1. There's the fact that they're opposites Adél being the girl, who's afraid of everything, and Bendegúz the boy who's afraid of nothing.

2. Bendegúz will talk about his problems but not right away. He usually keeps in what's bothering him, until he feels like telling. But in the meantime while he's stewing in his bad feelings, Adél's constant, unprompted reassurances feel really nice.

On the flip-side Bendegúz is the only one who can get Adél out of her shell even when she's terrified of doing a thing, because they sometimes know echother better than they know themselves. And Adél knows that if Bendegúz sees that a situation really is too much for her he will pull the plug immediately no matter how much he was enjoying it.

3. (My favorite) They are just always hanging out. Like, nothing special, but they're just always together doing suff. A common sight in the castle garden is Bendegúz beating up a training dummy, while Adél sits close by, knitting.

Also, this man low key has beef with Ákos' pet goat.

I think him and Hela would get along well. Their first meeting is this:

Hela: Cool spear

Bendegúz: Cool dagger

Hela: So...

Bendegúz: So... Want me to fly you up, spin you really fast and see how far I can throw you?

Hela: I thought you'd never ask!

Adél and Talon running after them: Why are you like this?!

Also, I feel like Talon would be the target of so many pranks. Bendegúz just looks at him, and he's like: That guy needs to learn what the word "fun" means.

Bendegúz sounds awesome, I bet he’s pretty cool. Halea would befriend him instantly. They would cause so much chaos xD

Also on mechanical wings sound like the coolest thing ever! So does his blue spear!

I do love a good friendship. And it’s nice to hear that Adél has a good friend like him, one that takes care of her and balance her out a bit. And the other way around, too.

I love when characters are friends that like to hang out and help each other and treat each other like family!

Poor boy though, why can’t he see that they all consider him family? That they all love him? 😭 I hope he’ll realize it one day with Adél’s help.

He seems like a lovely character. Being a bit reckless never hurt anybody and if it helps him to get Ákos and Adél out of the swamp that’s even better!

I desperately want to know now how exactly Bendegúz ended up having beef with a goat though xD

Thanks for sharing this with me! I really do adore your characters, they all are great!!

#writer speaks #writeblr

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holly-fixation · 10 months

Text

For the full On the Sea of Crises OST for @birdblacksocialclub I genuinely tried to nail the medieval vibe, mostly tavern rather than epic music because as you can see in the fic here, being stuck in jail fits more of the tavern vibe than the grand scale of epic battlefields and such.

This is the break down of my fan made piece for OTSOC.

Going into this I knew two (2) things about pirate music:

Everything is in the key of D minor. Why? I have no idea. Even The Pirates of the Caribbean's main theme follows this sacred law.

6/8 time is your best friend for pirates. This gives more of the rocky boat feel (but again, I do not know the history behind it). Technically drinking music follows this too! Only with 3/4 time. Fun Fact: The Star Spangled Banner is actually one note off from a British drinking song.

Okay back on topic.

I used those two laws for both piano pieces I made for the OTSOC a while ago. Messing with time and key signatures is fun! It changes the entire mood of Crisis Core's main theme and even Those Chosen by the Planet. So, after researching how to make medieval music through a couple of youtube videos and too much googling for appropriate instruments, I went off.

0:00 - I started with just a drum, tambourine, and a couple of strings playing a basic rhythm to build up. In OTSOC, the first thing you see is Tifa yelling at a guard. I couldn't go straight into Crisis Core's main theme without the man of the hour, Genesis Rhapsodos, appearing in frame. (or the frame equivalent of a comic... a panel?)

0:18 - The melody of Crisis Core's main theme/The SOLDIER Way finally kicks in on violin! But ALSO (what I learned from my many youtube videos), medieval music likes to have counter melodies/harmonies. So though the violin takes the reigns, the flute is playing Roaming in the Afternoon Sun, a song most CC players will recognize from the 3,000 side missions in this game.

0:53 - I give into antient peer pressure with a motif from the final boss theme by giving it to the LUTE. The almighty medieval instrument many know due to its popularity in fantasy settings as well! Taverns always love a good lute! (And so do prisons I guess) The moving baseline on the harp and cello was just for fun. This quiet drop and BEING the final boss theme is (supposed to) line up with Genesis's introduction! He likes his drama and DRAMA means Dynamics must Change!

1:25 - The flashback to Shinra Tower in flames. A bad memory for most, a big moment for our crimson boy. Many walked away injured, but despite the chaos and victory, Sephiroth disappeared some unexplained time after. I can't imagine the news painting that in a good light, and Tifa received this information second hand.

1:36 - A combination of CC's main theme on the flute and Roaming in the Afternoon Sun on the violin, before changing the violin to The Price of Freedom. Obviously Genesis is in Jail now, but he looks like he's having a fun time flirting with the girl he is now stuck with. This continues throughout their flirting.

2:21 - Uh oh. He is coming.

2:27 - The opening of One Winged Angel. Except with the instruments I chose, it sounds more like the rail road crossing alarm when a train goes by (note: this comment has nothing to do with the fic). This is where Genesis (or really his mind) is sucked into the 'Other' World.

2:33 - Obviously this Other World should feel, well, OTHER. So I hope you enjoyed your time with real/pirate instruments, we are now in synthesizer and piano territory, with a couple of other instruments for that tasty flavor. Genesis is in another world. He has absolutely no control. He clearly hates this Other!Sephiroth but can't prevent the Cecaelia from slithering his many tentacles around him as restraints. Other!Sephiroth is toying with Genesis, but it's always smooth, never harsh, always alluring and dragging you (yes you the reader) in. Lastly there is a motif of J-E-N-O-V-A underlying just enough to remind you/Genesis that she's watching. And if I may assume, always watching in this world.

(side comment: 2:33 the One Winged Angel section gives me vibes of FFXV's dungeon theme Unsettling Aura but that's only because of the constant piano driving throughout the rest of the piece)

2:55 - Other!Sephiroth is clearly speaking to something else as well as to Genesis and that should set off some RED FLAGS (or more rail road warnings). This is to make you concerned and feel the OWA again. Interruptions are so distracting, aren't they?

3:00 - J-E-N-O-V-A takes over and you hear it through the end. Everything is uncomfortable and dissonant and wrong and perfect. The last note doesn't resolve because this quest is far from over. The threat is far from over.

"...For you are beloved by the Goddess. And it is almost time to come home to her, Genesis." - Other!Sephiroth

...Bottom line, I had a lot of fun making this! This was just a fun little project for one of my favorite fics and writers. It gave me a chance to expand my horizons and hopefully put a smile on said writer's face.

Please check out basically any work by @birdblacksocialclub because she is fantastic!

#ffvii #final fantasy vii #ff7 #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #jenova #ff7 genesis #genesis rhapsodos #OTSOC #otsoc #On the Sea of Crises #on the sea of crises #late night post because Why Not?

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februaryflowers · 2 years

Text

heaven’s cloud

a mysterious video game sends you tumbling into what seems to be a parallel universe. it isn’t until you notice a certain angel that you realize something is wrong, and things will never be the same.

for @woozisnoots’ some day will pass collab!

warnings: kissing

fluff, smidges of angst; 5280 words; angel!joshua x reader

You let your legs dangle off the armrest of the sofa as you stare at the screen in front of you.

You put the game in the console, just like you would anything else, but the TV simply flickers back at you. Waving gray lines dance down the screen in a mind boggling pattern, driving you further and further into irritation. Why isn’t this working?

All you wanted was something new to keep you busy, but now your TV is busted too, it seems.

You drag yourself up to the TV stand and kick it in frustration, only ending with you bouncing back as pain ripples through your body, you clutching your leg close to your chest.

As you hop backwards, trying to balance yourself, you feel yourself being pulled, closer and closer to the TV. Your head tilts in its direction until you start going through the screen. Your whole body follows. You want to scream but nothing comes out.

You spin around and around, seeing nothing except for the black lines on a gray background that used to wave on the screen but are now all around you.

Your limbs tumble around and around until you’re spit out on the other side where a hole briefly emerges in the ceiling of a look alike living room.

You blink at the room and rub your eyes, wondering if you’re seeing this all correctly. You walk around, touching each surface. The couch feels the same, the table, the chair. Even your novelty key dish is in the same place in this apartment.

“I guess this is home,” you mumble as you brush your hand across the bookcase.

When you try to turn the TV back on, only the date flashes back at you. Even when you push several buttons, nothing happens.

“And yet, this thing is still busted,” you sigh, crashing on the couch.

You move to your room, grabbing your laptop to try and make sense of the situation. Maybe the vast knowledge of the internet has an explanation for what’s going on with your life.

But the only thing that comes from that is more frustration. Your laptop displays the similar lines and you groan, flinging it onto your bed. Is everything broken now?

With your broken technology, you flop into bed. What are you going to do, especially with all this extra spare time on your hands?

Your eyes glance around the room, looking for something, anything, to do, when they fall upon the window. The great outdoors, of course.

You almost regret coming out to the park this afternoon. All of your muscles ache from walking up to the big site. You look down at the hills. Maybe the view is partially worth it. Partially.

You sigh and turn to look at the sign when an interesting sight catches your eye. You squint up at the top, trying to see just what it is on the letters.

On the top of the Hollywood sign sits a man. He has vast, feathered wings on his back as he looks down upon the park with a small, playful grin.

You stare up at him, squinting as if you’re looking in the direction of the sun.

It appears that, in the city of angels, you’ve found one. Literally.

“Hey you,” you shout, but he doesn’t look in your direction, simply lost in staring at the tiny people far below him. Hikers near you look at you curiously. Who are you shouting at? They look up at the sign, and it just looks like you’re yelling at the air.

You groan and get closer to the sign, watching as he hops off the “H” and his wings spread even more. Your mouth falls open as he effortlessly descends to the earth, his feet barely making dust when they touch the ground.

“You--”

You point in his direction, but he continues on, kicking up dirt and rocks as he comes back to the path.

Running over towards him, you tap him on the shoulder. Just what are you going to say to him? Surely this can’t be real, can it? Maybe you should’ve thought this through before yelling at and talking to a stranger, let alone one who seems so mystical.

“Uh, are you real?” you blurt before your hands rush to your mouth to cover it so you can’t say more.

He looks at you with wide, doubting eyes. “You can see me?”

“Yeah? Who wouldn’t--”

He takes your hand and starts running in the direction of a more secluded place. He pulls you with ease to a rather empty section of the trail and takes a good look at you. His eyes are wide, frazzled, yet his orbs are warm and gentle, bringing you into him and his mind.

“You can see me?” he repeats.

You nod slowly. “Why wouldn’t I? And what you did earlier--”

“Hold on, if you can see me…” He starts pacing back and forth. “Something must be wrong. There’s no way…” he mumbles to himself.

Your introduction is hushed and rushed as he pulls you in the direction of your apartment as if he knows where it is--and he does. Maybe that’s what finally convinces you he’s a guardian angel. Not the fact that his wings are very much real, or he has some kind of ethereal aura that just draws you to him.

You don’t know why you’ve let a complete stranger into your apartment or how you let yourself be convinced by him that angels are in fact real, but here you are.

You stand helplessly as he scrutinizes your living room. He squints at personal mementos as if they’re random knick knacks and junk and couldn’t mean less. His eyes scan nearly all the belongings in the room, almost as if he’s searching for something. You feel the need to yell at him to mind his own business. What does he think he--

He snatches the disc for the game you’d bought last week and fiddled with earlier in the day. “What’s this?” he asks. “Where’d you find it?”

“It’s just a no good video game! I bought it at a store downtown and it broke everything! I don’t see how this explains why I can see you,” you exclaim.

“It’s a time machine, y/n.”

“A what now?” you sound. “There’s no way that’s real.”

He turns on your TV, only to see the flickering screen before he analyzes the disc and your screen for a while, leaving you to rock back and forth on your feet in impatience.

“It malfunctioned? But how?” he mumbles.

“So do you have an answer or…”

He fists his hair. “It malfunctioned,” he murmurs before looking up from the TV to you.

Time slows when you meet his gaze. His eyes, even now, sparkle as if the stars are in them. In the golden hour, he looks ethereal, and not just because he is. You can’t help but let your mouth drop a little as you stare at him more and more. His eyes are bright and warm, as if they radiate kindness and sensitivity. But his lips have a lingering shadow of a cheshire grin on them, a hint of mischievousness that may or may not defy rules on occasion despite what he’s told, even when he’s deep in thought.

“Come here,” he says.

Your feet start moving and you find yourself in front of the angel before you can even process it.

“Did you do anything to it?” he asks.

You shake your head. “I don’t understand.”

He looks at you hesitantly, skeptically. “Neither do I. The only way this should be possible,” he explains, gesturing between the two of you, “is that this disc malfunctioned.”

You let your mouth fall open as you try to process this information. A time machine? And an angel? Things you’ve been told are impossible, that don’t exist, are very much real and in front of you.

Joshua ushers you to the sofa and urges you to sit down. “It’s a lot to process, I know.”

“I don’t understand.” You plop down unceremoniously.

“I need to know, how did you get your hands on this?”

You shrug, too stunned for words. You swallow, trying to bring moisture to your dry throat and buy time to come up with something to say. “The man just, he just gave it to me,” you whisper. “Is this some parallel universe? I need to go back.”

“This is very much real,” he says, stroking your back.

You want to pull away. He’s a stranger after all, someone you just met. The logical part of your brain says that you shouldn’t have let him in, let alone let him search your living room.

But there’s something about him that draws you to him. Maybe it’s because you’re curious and you’re letting that get the best of you. You bet it’s that. There’s no way you’re falling for someone who isn’t real, or… potentially is? You aren’t sure what to make of the situation. No coherent thoughts are formed as you sit with a real life angel holding a time machine in his hands. No matter how many times you try to digest and rationalize Joshua’s words, they simply float around your head.

He sighs. If he reports this, you could get in trouble. It wasn’t even your fault. He assumes you were talking about the store cleric earlier.

He scratches the top of his head, combing through his thoughts and trying to think of something to do. He should leave. He should leave, take the time machine, and pretend as if you never saw him. It would be better for you, for you not to be involved with the affairs of the divine.

He stands and makes his way to the door, glancing back at you.

You sit with your head in your hands, maybe a tear falling from your eyes as the frustration of not understanding gets to you.

He should go. Yet he can’t. Something pangs in his heart. He can’t leave you like this. He can’t cause you so much pain and just walk out of your life like this, even if you’ve just barely crossed paths.

So he opens his mouth and lets the words tumble from them. “Are you coming?” he asks.

You look up with blurry vision and dig your palms in them, trying to erase the salt. “What do you mean?”

“We’re gonna figure this out, together.”

You lead him down the street you’ve come to know in silence. It feels anything but familiar anymore now that your whole world has been turned upside down.

And to even reinforce that fact, Joshua follows behind you, above you, reminding you that he is in fact an angel, and, somehow, in fact real.

You wish to find words. Words are such a curious thing. They can explain, yet confuse, and all they seem to be doing is confusing you, even when you want the exact opposite.

After passing many old brick buildings and wooden bay windows, you make a left at the end of the road and turn to where the antique shop is supposed to be.

Looking back at Joshua, you offer a half smile. “Here it is.”

He lands on the ground effortlessly, without a sound. “Interesting,” he mumbles as approaches the door and pulls on its handle.

You hear him jiggling it again before he turns around and taps you on the shoulder.

“You’re positive this is the place?” he asks.

You nod, a little unsure why he’s asking such a thing. You want an explanation just as badly as he does, if not more. Why would you lie to him? Besides, you’re sure he could tell if you were lying or not with some kind of supernatural power, anyway.

“It’s gone, y/n,” he says, rather calmly considering that a whole business vanished in the span of a week.

“It’s what?” your voice cracks.

You sit down on the edge of the sidewalk and put your face in your palms, willing yourself not to cry out of frustration. This doesn’t make any sense. Who knows what you’ve gotten yourself into.

“Hey now, it’s okay,” Joshua whispers as he comes up next to you and sits by your side. His wings grow to their full size and one wraps you up, pushing you closer to him.

You rest your head against him and sniffle, missing how his heart begins to race at your touch. You just need someone, anyone, to ground you, even if they are a stranger. Who’s to say what’s real at this point? “I just don’t understand what’s going on.”

“Sometimes there are these creatures who just try to trick people and stuff. I’m assuming this store was run by one of them.”

“You believe me?”

He nods. “Of course I do.”

“I feel like none of this can be real. A store that vanishes overnight? An angel? A time machine?”

Joshua sighs next to you, causing your head to rise and fall with his chest.

“What’s wrong?”

He scratches his chin, debating whether or not he should tell you what’s on his mind. Who knows what kind of trouble you’ll be in when the higher up angels find out that you’ve seen them. Even if you were tricked and had nothing to do with it, some things just aren’t fair, he’s learned.

Don’t even get him started on how these creatures will come after you now, or how he’ll be told off for continuing to interfere and intervene with his investigating and staying with you.

Angels aren’t meant to interact with humans, only protect them. But here he is, maybe feeling more than he should for you, a human he just met.

Gosh, he’s in trouble. Big time.

“It’s nothing,” he finally whispers.

You couldn’t let Joshua go out and spend the night in the middle of nowhere. So that is how he ends up crashing on your sofa tonight.

He stares up at your ceiling, surrounded by you: your memories, your momentos, your scent, your style, your everything. His eyes flicker around the room, studying everything you have out once again in hopes that he will know you better.

You live alone, he’s learned, but pictures of two other men with you are sprinkled around the apartment. You mentioned a Seungcheol and Minghao in passing on the way home from the now missing antique store. He assumes they’re the men in the photos, your best friends, and feels a pang in the chest which he tries his best to brush away.

It’s so much easier for them to be in your life. They’re human, after all. There’s no barrier between you three.

How does he have feelings for someone he just met?

It’s not that difficult for Joshua to think about though. It’s so easy: you’re kind. You let a near stranger sleep in your living room because you didn’t want him to have to go out on the streets. And you’re tenacious. Despite the ridiculousness of what he’s told you today, you’ve kept on trying to understand.

He wishes more people could be like you. It would make his job of protecting people easier.

On the other hand, you toss and turn in bed. Nothing makes sense, no matter how hard you try. It’s those thoughts that keep you up at night. But somehow, it’s strangely comforting to have an angel in your living room.

However you aren’t discreet with your heavy sighs and the creaking of the mattress as you roll over in bed. Joshua sighs when he hears of your troubles for the nth time this evening and floats over to your door.

He knocks lightly but doesn’t push it open, not wanting to startle you with the sudden bright light of the hallway.

“What is it?” you call.

“Can’t sleep either?” he poses.

“How’d you know?”

“Intuition,” he lies. “Come on. Let’s chat. Maybe it’ll make things better.”

You glance between the direction of the door and your warm bed. Maybe it is getting a little too stuffy in here.

So you trudge out of bed and softly pull open the door, averting your eyes from Joshua’s warm ones.

“Tell me about today,” he says, genuine as you lead him to the dining table.

“Today was…a lot. I dunno--I just--it’s hard to believe, you know?”

He nods, urging you to go on.

“Things that you’re told aren’t real or aren’t on earth are suddenly there in front of you. And these creatures you mentioned…it’s just…overwhelming, I guess.”

“It’s a lot. Take your time.”

“You…aren’t going to get in trouble, are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“For staying with me. I feel like all the stories--”

“No, no, no.” He shakes his head adamantly to emphasize the point, the lie. “I’m basically freelance right now. Funnily enough, there are more than enough angels in the city of angels.”

“Do you like your job?”

He hesitates.

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell,” you chuckle.

“Most of the time. Sometimes you see bad people but you still gotta do your job whether you like it or not.”

“Never thought I’d hear an angel talk badly about something,” you joke. “Or, see an angel, in general, I guess,” you add, your tone falling a bit flat as reality starts to hit.

He shrugs. “I dunno if I’d call it bad. It’s just the truth.”

“You’re just trying to cover for your ass,” you quip.

He mimes zipping his lips, causing your smile to grow. “Whatever you say.”

“I’m just telling the truth!”

The truth, he keeps talking about the truth.

If you’re honest, the truth is maybe you have feelings for this angel who’s apparently in your life now. Maybe it’s just because he’s an angel, but he has a warm patience, a gentle kindness, that has you falling for him so soon.

It’s this thought that makes your mind tired. It finally appears to be shutting down and preparing to rest, which is both a relief and a bit scary.

But it’s as if Joshua can read your mind.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” he murmurs as if he doesn’t want to startle you. “I’ll protect you. Nothing will happen to you.”

You nod hesitantly. “Okay.”

Your eyelids begin to grow heavy with sleep as he ushers you back to your room, his warm hand over yours. It’s strange how grounding it feels to be in his grasp. You’ve just met him, after all, yet there’s an unusual comfort in his presence.

He doesn’t enter your room, but rather he stands in the doorframe as you take your final steps into bed and pull the covers up to your chin.

“Sleep well, y/n. Remember, I’m right outside.”

You nod again, rather comforted by his words.

You flop over so your back is towards him and the door as he closes it behind him, leaving you in the familiar darkness of your bedroom.

But it’s a new face that dances in your vision, on the black canvas that is the back of your eyelids tonight.

The routine repeats for a week. You can’t sleep so you and Joshua talk until you get tired enough and he drops you off outside your room, never coming inside, before sleeping on the couch.

You don’t say a word about him leaving, and he doesn’t say a word about him staying. You’re both caught in this awkward dance of forced meetings.

And little do you know that Joshua also doesn’t say a word about telling the higher up angels or reporting the time machine incident. If he simply doesn’t think about it for the time being, nothing bad should happen. It’s not like he has any intention of staying with you for a long time or having feelings. At least, that’s what Joshua tries to tell himself.

On the seventh morning, Joshua startles awake to the door clicking open. Who’s just bursted into your apartment?

His eyes pop open at the creaking of your door and he scrambles off your sofa until he realizes who it is.

“Jeonghan,” he tsks. “Why are you here? And why have you bursted into y/n’s apartment?”

“Ah, y/n, hm?” he teases. “You’re on a first name basis now.”

“You know they can see us, right?”

Jeonghan’s eyebrows raise. “What now?”

“Yeah.” Joshua nods. “Something about a time machine malfunctioning, I think. That’s my theory, at least. I think it’s only them. I was at the Hollywood sign earlier and nobody else saw me.”

“Interesting.” Jeonghan scratches his chin until he remembers why he came here in the first place. “Anyway, did you forget about our brunch?”

Joshua bites his lip as he scratches the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

“You can bring y/n, if you want,” he says, a twinkle in his eye as he heads for the door. “I’ll be waiting.”

Joshua sighs disapprovingly, shaking his head as Jeonghan walks out the door and closes it softly behind him.

He looks to the hallway where your room is and wonders if maybe he should wake--

“What’s all the commotion?” you ask, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you shuffle down the hallway and into the living room.

“I forgot I had a meeting with a friend.”

“You sound so serious,” you quip.

“Well, you’re welcome to join if you want.”

You startle, fully awake now as his words process through your head. “You want me to come with you and one of your angel friends?”

“Why not?”

“Hold on, wait. I need to get ready.” Your eyes timidly meet Joshua’s and you gape at his appearance. “Do angels just wake up pretty or something?” you blurt before shoving your hand over your mouth.

However Joshua smiles sheepishly. “You think so, huh?”

“Nope, I’m going.”

You turn around and race back to your room, leaving a stunned Joshua to stare at your back fondly as you retreat.

As Jeonghan would tell him, he’s fallen bad.

Jeonghan’s place is relatively close by. He leads you there while he catches up with Joshua, leaving you feeling out of place, not just because of your lack of wings.

It’s a cute, old townhouse with lush landscaping and fragrant flowers decorating the outside. You imagine the neighboring places are filled with other angels as you’ve never been in, or even seen, this part of the neighborhood before.

He invites you in and the inside is neatly decorated and kept. Following the two angels down the long hallway to the kitchen, brunch is already set.

You continue to let the old friends catch up while you munch quietly on your breakfast.

“Anyway, y/n, you’re awfully quiet,” Joshua finally says, making your ears perk up.

You reach for another dish and swallow. “I just don’t wanna interrupt. You seem extremely friendly.”

The angels meet eyes and chuckle. “I guess you could say that.”

“But anyway, how’d you find out about us?” Jeonghan asks.

You shrug. “No clue, honestly.”

“You really have no idea?” he repeats as he hands you some french toast.

You shake your head and go to reaffirm for the nth time that you don’t understand or know why you can see angels now.

“Lay off, Jeonghan,” Joshua says.

The aforementioned angel holds his hands up in the air innocently. “I just wanna know. You know that you’ll have to tell--”

“Yes, I do,” he growls, squinting at his friend and colleague.

You bite your lip. Is this a conversation you’re meant to hear?

“We’ll get to it eventually, if we even have to, that is.”

Jeonghan opens his mouth to speak when his phone goes off. He checks it and grimaces before scrolling through his notifications. “I gotta go. Seokmin needs me. Feel free to let yourselves out when you’re ready.”

He exits out the door, his wings growing to their full size once he’s outside and has the space.

“Who’s Seokmin?” you ask.

“Another angel. He’s new. Anyway, finish your food so we can--”

“What was he talking about? Be honest.”

Joshua sighs and rubs his forehead with his thumb and index finger. He gets up and walks towards the window that faces the human neighborhoods, staring pensively out at the single pedestrians and couples, families and kids, that pass by. Oh, a life he won’t live is out there.

“I’m supposed to report this incident. The higher ups will question you about what happened. It-it isn’t easy.”

“What-what’ll happen?”

“To you? Or to me?”

“Both.”

He scratches his neck. “To you, I’m not sure. To me, nothing much, really. Maybe a slap on the wrists at most.”

You sigh, taking the two of you into an awkward silence. You offer a half smile and mull over your brunch with the two angels.

What you thought was just Joshua’s charm from being an angel is much more than that, much more real rather than superficial. It’s genuinely him. Jeonghan, while still kind and real, doesn’t have the same aura about him. Maybe you really have fallen for an angel.

“Would now be a bad time to tell you something?” you pipe up.

Joshua turns and tries to meet your jumpy gaze. “What is it?”

You gulp, trying to clear the lump in your throat that forms when you think of him. “I think I’m falling for you.”

He slips back into his chair and meets your eyes. “Oh,” he murmurs, barely audible to you across the table.

“Oh, what?”

“That complicates things.”

You lower your head as your heart drops to the bottom of your chest. You couldn’t have expected a literal angel to have feelings for you back, but it still stings and--

“Because I think I am too.”

Your head shoots up and you meet his eyes. “What?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, a hesitant smile pulling at his features. “It must be strange, no? Someone you didn’t think even existed days ago is now in front of you and has feelings for you? And when the higher ups find out, oh. If you don’t…want to, I understand.”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, trying not to have his voice crack. How is he so emotional over someone he met a week ago?

“No,” you say. “What’s life if we don’t?”

He smiles at that. “What’s life?” he repeats.

This time Joshua leads you down the street. His hand is warmly wrapped around your wrist as you follow behind.

“You really won’t tell me where we’re going?” you sigh.

Joshua shakes his head. “Like I said, it’s a surprise.”

You eye him skeptically, but before you can respond, he makes a left and opens the first door on the row of brick buildings.

“What even is this place?” you wonder aloud.

“It’s a secret,” Joshua says coyly. “Only angels know where to find this place.”

He dings a hidden bell just inside and you watch as the whole place reveals itself to be a bustling cafe. Dozens of angels mingle inside, snacking on beautiful desserts and sipping on elegant coffees and teas.

“Am I allowed here then?” you ask.

“Why not?” he proposes. “You can see us.”

He steps up to the counter and talks animatedly with the clerk, pointing at various items in the glass display cases.

“Do you want something?” he asks, gesturing for you to come look at the various treats.

You blink blankly at the rows of little cakes, macarons, cupcakes, and cookies, suddenly overwhelmed. “I’m sure you know what’s good.”

He continues picking various items and when you finally make it to the cash register, Joshua pulls out his wallet to pay.

“Isn’t this expensive? I should--”

He waves his hand in the air. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” He leans in closer to your ear, making your heart race. You bet he can hear it pounding against your chest if he tries. “Besides, I’ve picked up some tips and tricks around here.”

He takes the sweets and drinks and sits down in the window.

The view is quite something. It’s as if you’re somehow perching above the Hollywood sign, just as Joshua was a week ago, despite being nowhere near it. The place is a thing of wonder, peering over Griffith Park. You can even see people below you, simply minding their own business as they walk along trails to see the sign.

“Coming?” he says, snapping you out of your reverie.

“Oh, yes.”

You sit across from him and take the pink rose colored cupcake he hands you into your grasp gingerly.

“Try it,” he encourages.

You take a small bite and the frosting practically melts in your mouth. It’s a perfect blend of sweet and salty, drawing you in for another bite, leaving you wondering if it’s just a secret recipe of the angels that makes it taste so good.

“And this one,” he says, handing you a small slice of cake.

It similarly melts in your mouth, but still somehow has a nice, smooth texture all the while. When Joshua goes to sneak a bite of it, you swat his hand away.

“Hey!” he cries.

“It’s so good. Get your own!”

“Hmph.” He takes a bite in spite of your words and smudges cream and frosting on his lip.

“Unbelievable,” you sigh exasperatedly.

“What?” he replies, feigning ignorance.

You cup his cheeks, feeling a familiar warmth surge through your arms and hands, as if you’ve done this before. Maybe in some other life, you have known Joshua as someone else, some other person. But this is the life you’re in now, one where a human and an angel have fallen for one another.

“You’re ridiculous,” you whisper teasingly as you bring your lips to his.

Sweet residue remains on his lips that you’ll gladly taste. You swipe your tongue across his bottom lip to steal some of the frosting that sat there.

But you melt like putty in his grip when he slides his arms to rest on your shoulders.

“That’ll teach you to steal my dessert,” he mumbles against your skin.

But instead, you treat him to one more kiss. It’s better than any dessert he can find.

“Come here.” You beckon him to come closer and pat the space next to you. “Sleeping on the couch for so long is uncomfortable.”

“What? Am I living here now?” he teases, but that’s a bridge you’re yet to cross, despite the long time he’s spent here.

Instead you hum indecisively and pat the space next to you again, falling into a peaceful silence.

Joshua’s warmth surrounds you even before he places his arms around your middle. A soft rumble emits from his chest as he exhales, content. His wings grow to their full size before enveloping you and scooping you closer to him.

His feathers are soft and welcoming, like a velvet plush, but nothing can compare to him, his presence. It’s the most secure, tender place and person you’ll ever find. You know that while you’re off in dream land, he will protect you.

“Sleep well, my angel,” he mutters before pressing a kiss to your temple.

You’ve never felt this safe, this cared for and loved, in your life.

Soulmates are long gone from this world, but you bet he’d be yours. Fuck fate, the world, the universe, whatever there is, what is supposed to be real and what isn’t supposed to be. Your love with Joshua is very much real. That’s all that matters. You don’t need an explanation. Even so, everything is going to be okay.

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