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#i saw a post and someone said they would just tell their younger selves to just do it and die
ambedoshowers · a year ago
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I wish I could go back to my younger self and say “hey., yeah it’s all really shitty, I know you know that. But you know there’s a lot of good shit too., the stuff worth staying alive for, being there to see. There will still be a lot of bad shit., but you’ll find strength in each passing year. You’ll fumble and fall., and worry about this scary place your head is in catching up to you. But you’ll finally be in control., and that’s something worth staying alive for.”
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twopoppies · 5 months ago
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My Policeman Screening - Part 1
Let me start by saying these are comments from a friend who attended tonight’s screening. I haven’t seen the film. I’m just going to give you their commentary as they gave it to me. This is their initial message to me when the came out of the theater:
The movie just finished. IT’S FUCKING GORGEOUS I’m like shaking, it was so beautiful. I’m SO PROUD!! That’s what a performance with a competent director and supportive costars looks like, holy shit!!!
And DAVID FUCKING DAWSON!! EMMA!! And they kept Julia 😭😭😭
Just know I heard people being asked by staff what they thought and EVERYONE around me said EXCELLENT.
This is LONG. So long I have to split it into at least two posts. I’ll put everything under the cut for those who don’t want to see spoilers. And when I say spoilers, I mean it. This is pretty much scene by scene.
Harry gets the first billing on his own. So it opens on a beautiful shot of the water then it his name and then the title of the movie. 🥺🥺🥺 A true leading man!! I was already so proud to see that. Then everyone else gets billing during the opening shots of Patrick arriving.
Okay, from what I can remember in order: It opens with the older Tom and Marion at their home just as Patrick is being brought in from his assisted living facility. Older Tom immediately takes their dog out for a walk while Marion adjusts everything for Patrick in his new room.
She places a picture of her and Tom from their wedding day on a dresser facing the bed so Patrick sees it when he first lies down. Cue the first scream from these girls in the audience who would not stop their constant talking and  giggling because we saw a picture of Harry and Emma posed. 🙄🙄🙄
So it does begin with the older versions of the three. The difference from the book is that Marion is not writing a letter. A box of Patrick’s old things gets delivered and his diary is included. So she actually finds the diary and that’s what initiates a lot of the flashback sequences.
Tom is off walking the dog, Marion is trying to make Patrick comfortable. And then the first flashback is the scene on the beach with where Harry was wearing the blue shorts and vest.
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Marion is sitting with Sylvie when Tom comes over. Sylvie’s part is drastically cut from the novel, so you don’t see her getting pregnant or married. She doesn’t tell Marion (or hint rather) that he’s gay like she does in the novel. You only see her in that opening scene to introduce the younger selves and then she teases Marion and tells Tom she doesn’t know how to swim.
Then Sylvie runs off with her boyfriend but we never see her again, she’s just referenced one other time.
They changed this bit from the novel too. Tom tells Marion he’ll teach her but he takes her to a public swimming pool full of families. So it’s a very cute and light scene with up tempo 50s music included. There’s a brief slow mo shot of Tom swimming and Marion being infatuated of course, to imply she’s already falling for him. The parents from the novel are cut too, no scenes with them. When Marion and Tom meet on the beach, he tells her there he just got back from the service and he’s already a Policeman. And she’s already a teacher.
Like the novel, they get to know each other by the swimming lessons and Tom says she must love books if she’s a teacher. He asks her if she knows about Art, she says a bit and there’s a sweet scene where she takes him to a library and they just sit in silence while he’s earnestly reading about an artist he found out about.
He asks her if he’d like to go to a museum since he knows someone that she can talk to about art. Enter younger Patrick.
And omg…when I tell you David Dawson was perfect. EVERYONE was perfect, especially the younger trio. But when I tell you the younger three has the BEST chemistry. And David instantly captivated me. What a presence!
So this is where Tom introduces Marion and Patrick for the first time.
Patrick asks if they would like to attend a play and Marion says sure. But as they’re walking out, Marion says something about attending (I didn’t catch it) but Tom says they can decline Patrick’s offer if she really doesn’t want to go. Marion says no, they should go since she doesn’t want to hurt Patrick’s feelings.
So this is when they go on their first outing as a group. And omg, they’re all so lovely together. If I didn’t know what was coming, I could’ve just watched them be silly as sing together while in a bar. David and Emma both have BEAUTIFUL voices!!
There’s a montage of the three in a bar, then driving together into the countryside for a picnic. Harry sings along with them but (and maybe this was a deliberate decision by the filmmakers) but you hear David and Emma’s voices over his. This montage of their outings is when you start to see the dynamic play out. In the theater, they sit MARION, PATRICK, TOM In the bar, Tom and Patrick grab each other to sign before Marion joins them. In the car going into the country, she’s sitting in the back while Patrick is driving and Tom is sitting up from with him 😭😭😭
Between the younger flashbacks, it did go back to the present. Older Tom stays away from older Patrick completely. Older Marion gives older Patrick his bath/meals/pills and reads his diary (unbeknownst to him).
As in the novel, older Patrick’s his mobility and speech are severely impaired. Rupert Everett gave a wonderful but heartbreaking performance.
The first entry Marion reads is the night Tom went to Patrick’s apartment to have his portrait drawn. So this differed from the novel too!
Those photos we got of Harry in costume with a bag and smoking a cigarette sitting on the beach happen right before he goes to Patrick’s apartment for the drawing session. His uniform is in the bag and, like the novel, he tells Patrick he brought it in case he wants him to wear it for the portrait. Patrick says yes, tells him to change they start.
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They talk briefly, Patrick asks why he wanted to be a policeman. Tom says to help people, to which Patrick replies that’s how he differs from other cops. Tom questions him and Patrick says he keeps his distance because not all are like that. Then Tom gets defensive, he sits up straighter and gets this very almost robotic look (or more militarized) and says something like “the police only seek out criminal offences and take appropriate actions when they’re committed”
Patrick offers him a drink right away to change the subject. And then it cuts to them relaxed, Patrick is wearing Tom’s jacket and hat pretending to be a cop and making Tom laugh.
Tom says Patrick will probably think he’s a drunkard for having 3 scotches but Patrick says cops deserve to have fun after they clock out.So they both relax on the couch. And start talking. And this is where my mind glitched Because Gina 🥺🥺🥺
Okay…I swear to god this happened and I KNOW it happened because Patrick has a line about it and this fan I talked to after (that I’m 100% sure was a larrie because she mentioned it too)…The fan mentioned it.
You know that clip of the boys that everyone credits with turning them into a larrie? When Louis pushes his arm back because Harry just uses two fingers or so to stroke his arm
Okay, so in the SCENE Tom and Patrick are sitting on the same couch but a little bit always from each other cause they’re manspreading but Tom has his arm outstretched towards Patrick. So Patrick is kind of talking and then Tom just delicately, WITH THOSE SAME TWO FINGERS I’VE WATCHED OVER AND OVER AGAIN just slightly strokes Patrick’s neck. And my mind immediately went blank because I’VE SEEN HARRY DO THAT BEFORE.
but when I tell you my heart rate sped up because it was so gentle like some of the touches between Louis and Harry used to be.
Wtf wtf wtf. IDK, IMM ACTUALLY ONLY PROCESSING IT NOW AS I’M TELLING IT TO YOU.
So of course Patrick pauses. And Tom pauses. Then Patrick just goes for it. So they don’t have multiple sittings for the drawing, they put the blowjob scene here!
Tom initially says he’s “not like that” and Patrick dismisses it and goes for the kiss. And it’s so sweet and tentative before he gets down on his knees in front. You get a shot from behind the couch/Tom’s head then you just get Harry’s beautiful acting as he falls apart.
SUCK MY DICK OLIVIA WILDE. We need more QUEER pleasure represented on our screens. But I digress. 🤣
Then it cuts to Tom getting dressed quickly after and saying they can’t do this, it’s wrong. Then Patrick says, rightfully so, “YOU TOUCHED ME FIRST!” But Tom can’t argue with that so he flees. and it cuts back to older Marion finishing up the diary entry.
Her behavior never changes towards Patrick, she even shares a cigarette with him even though he’s not supposed to have any and she keeps trying to get Tom to see him.
So from the first blow job scene, Tom returns to the apartment drunk, asking Patrick if he’d keep drawing him. Of course Patrick is totally thrown off given how they parted before. But he sees Tom is drunk and doesn’t want his neighbors to find them again (during the first visit, a neighbor does come out but Tom is introduced as a cousin)
Tom is of course struggling with everything. He yells a bit. And oh Harry was so great. I told [another friend], I actually was able to get lost and (despite the rude crowd) JUST see Tom. I was so heartbroken for him.
But of course Patrick understands and they actually have sex. And oh wow…once again, OLIVIA WILDE SUCK MY DICK. 
It wasn’t raunchy but it was EXPLICIT. You see them together a few times. In the bed and on the couch with Patrick riding him, OH MY GOD!! It was beautiful shot!! It was actual GAY sex and not some bullshit scene with Harry’s head under a skirt.
You do see Harry completely nude from behind. I would say a step further than Brokeback Mountain, no full frontal. David is gorgeous, his bf is also lucky. 😂
DWD is fucking child’s play in comparison. The gays stay winning.
I told [my friend] gay sex should always be shot this way. It was obviously well choreographed. The riding scene had beautiful vertical lines of their bodies shot from a small distanceIt wasn’t obscene, it was supposed to show them falling apart together and it was lovely.
They end up in bed together with Tom’s head on Patrick’s chest and that’s where Patrick says he had a previous partner that was killed for being gay. So they decide to obviously keep their relationship a secret.
It was so natural and Harry looked so amazing. I was so strangely proud, again just to see him be able to do that and recognize it as art and have it be a part of such an important story.
I know people are gonna ask you, so just to get it out there: Tom tops in every scene. When they’re in bed, Patrick does switch positions with him but just to kiss along his neck. And honestly, for a second I thought we were getting a rimming scene because Harry kind of arched his back 😳 But then it cut away. That DID make my eyebrows go up a bit but then no. Good form though, Styles. And congrats Louis, you lucky mfer.
OH! Before Tom goes back, there is a scene where Patrick visits the gay bar mentioned in the novel. He thinks he ruined his moment with Tom, so he goes to find someone else. They go to an alleyway and he’s about to blow the guy when two cops come. Patrick escapes but his guy is arrested.
Part 2
Part 3
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ynscrazylife · 11 months ago
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Spoilers
Not sure if you write for Melina from Black Widow but if you do could you please write a Melina x Reader where they are both locked in the cells in the red room and confess to each other and kiss
Destined to Lose | m.v fic
Summary: Melina recalls the love that she once shared with a Red Room agent years ago.
Authors Note: Thanks for requesting! Also, as the Red Room focuses on girls, the reader will be female.
Warning: Implications of some malnourishment. 
Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)
MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 |  Main Masterlist
PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.
Ever since the Red Room had been stopped once and for all, there seemed to be the fragrance of calm in the air, washing over Mother Russia . . . or maybe it had just washed over Melina, Alexei, and Yelena, as everything had been shifted now. They were all free and had the opportunity to work on their shattered relationships - and to work on their shattered selves. Each one had coped in their own way, discovering and rediscovering their interests and who they were outside the Red Room, outside KGB.
One of the ways that Melina chose to heal was to take time for herself, and that included reading. More often than not, she’d be curled up in an armchair in the living room, entranced as her eyes swept over the ink printed on every page. The stories, whether they be fiction or non, always captivated her, and she soaked in every word.
That is the precise reason that despite being a highly trained and experienced spy, she didn’t notice that her youngest daughter was in the room until she piped up and spoke.
“Melina?”
Instantly the brunette was tugged from the faraway world she was in and her head snapped up, eyes holding a gaze of alarm for just a moment before they stilled. Melina took in Yelena’s state. The younger woman was standing confidently but her face told a different story. She was concentrating on something, Melina could tell from the way that her muscles were pulled, and there was an inner dialogue going on, troubling her.
“Yes, dear?” Melina said, carefully turning over the corner of the page and closing the book on her lap, as she could tell that this conversation wouldn’t be over in a minute.
“I had a question,” Yelena began, pausing for a moment and then sitting in the armchair across from her mother. She continued when she was comfortable. “-which you don’t have to answer.” She reeled in her worried gaze and made it more neutral.
Melina allowed her shoulders to slump into a relaxed posture and drew her bushy eyebrows together, her chin jutting down ever so slightly. “What is it?” She asked, the curiosity gnawing at her, since this wasn’t Yelena’s typical behavior.
Yelena seemed to be collecting her thoughts and, when she was finished, spoke in a delicate manner. “When I was looking at the Red Room’s files that Natasha got, I . . . I came across yours. It had said that you had been through the Red Room five times and . . . It mentioned someone named Y/N Y/L/N? I was wondering-” she cut herself off abruptly when she saw the solemn and serious look on her mother’s face.
The moment she heard that name, it struck something inside Melina. The memory, the feelings, it all came hurtling back with a force that had been absent for years. Y/N.
Y/N was the name that caused her stomach to twist and turn as the wound was ripped open. Y/N was the name that put a smile on her lips through the tears and reminded her how far she came when she was sad. Y/N was the name she thought of as a battle cry when she jumped into a fight against those Red Room agents. Y/N was the name she focussed on, like one would stare at a point on the wall to keep focus, as she got through the hardest times in her life, motivated her to push through with all her might.
With all those thoughts running through Melina’s head, she finally looked up, met Yelena’s gaze with her own, and parted her lips to tell her a story.
Melina had long since given up keeping track of the days at this point. There was no use, for by this time the days had all blurred into one. She could only differentiate the day and the night because every night is when someone with a deep frown on their face would walk in and give her a tray of food, and every morning was when someone else would arrive and take said tray away. She had barely moved from the position she sat in: back against the chain wall that seperated her cell and the one right next to hers and her knees drawn to her chest. She’d tune in to any sound she could hear and fixate.
She had been thrown into this cell because of her attempt to escape the Red Room. It wouldn’t be the first time she tried to escape, nor would it be the first time she sat in this cell, but it was the first time that she had gotten as far as she did, since she had help.
Melina could only wonder why she was here and Y/N wasn’t, and those wonderings always ended up with her conjuring thoughts and ideas that frightened her.
She ended up having the endless questions crawling at the back of her mind come to a halt when she heard pounding footsteps one day. Despite being in a tired haze, Melina snapped right out of it and became alert, watching and waiting with anticipation as their footsteps got closer, and closer, and closer.
The person - or people - belonging to those footsteps came into sight and Melina couldn’t stop the gasp before it escaped her lips when she saw what was happening.
A man, a Red Room agent, was practically dragging Y/N who was thrashing about, doing her best to put up a fight, but ultimately losing it when he carelessly tossed her into the cell next to Melina’s, locked the door, and walked away.
Only after his receding footsteps could be heard no more did Y/N look up from her tears, only for her eyes to widen and for her to lurch towards the chain wall, fingers grasping around it, when she laid eyes on Melina. Melina did the same and, after a little struggle, they managed to hold hands in a steel grip through the chain.
“Mel,” Y/N breathed, but her hoarse voice caused her to cough.
“Y/N,” Melina whispered, tightening her grip and scooting as close to the chain wall - as close to Y/N - as she could. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
Y/N let out a shaky sigh, alarming Melina, and rested her forehead against the chain. “I wasn’t thrown into the cell immediately because you’ve been through the Red Room five times now, but I haven’t. They wanted to train me more and they did their best, but when I kept on fighting them they decided to put me in here.” she answered tiredly.
Melina thought this over and let out a sigh of her own, but this was a sigh of relief. She was glad that she no longer had to worry about Y/N and thankful that Y/N was with her so she could make sure that nothing bad would happen to her.
After a couple moments of the silence beginning to creep in again, Melina decided that she needed to tell Y/N something. “I have to tell you something, love.”
Y/N looked up, a beautiful glint in her eyes telling that she was intrigued. God, Melina had missed seeing that look on her face.
“Don’t feel pressured to respond, just, after I’ve been away from you, I really, really have to say this: I . . . I love you,” Melina confessed, bravely meeting Y/N’s gaze.
Y/N blinked, but that glint did not go away. In fact, it seemed to get bigger, making the smile on her lips reach her eyes, and she squeezed Melina’s hands as best she could.
“I love you, too.”
Those four words were probably the softest words she had ever spoken, but they were beyond true.
Melina leaned forward and Y/N after a moment did too. They did their best and managed to meet each other with a kiss. The two cherished it - the kiss was sweet and simple and not over-the-top. Perfect. They each leaned back.
Then, the silence came again, but this time, to Melina, it was more comfortable.
“I have something to tell you, also”
Melina looked up, expecting the smile to still be on Y/N’s face, but it was faltering. She tilted her head to the side.
“I insisted to them that you not be put through the Red Room a sixth time. I’m not sure if they’re going to do anything, but I wanted to stop what they were doing to you and-”
“That you did. They’ve listened.”
Both looked up to see a Red Room agent standing outside Melina’s cell. He unlocked it and she instantly scurried back, but couldn’t do anything to prevent him from grabbing her and yanking her up. “Y/N!” She yelled as she was half-dragged, half-carried away.
Y/N sat up, banging on the chain. Tears started streaming down her face. It was happening far too fast. “MELINA!” She yelled. “I’M SORRY!”
There was fear in her voice. Oh, god, what had she done?
Melina paused for a moment, eyes focussed on Y/N as they went down the hall. She then said calmly, but with a firmness, “Don’t be!”
“And that was the last time I saw her,” Melina concluded her story, not meeting Yelena’s eyes, but with tears threatening to spill.
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whatifyoulivelikethat · a year ago
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not allowed iv, m | jjk, myg
pairing(s): est. poly relationship – jungkook x reader x yoongi
summary: Your boyfriends woke up and chose violence. Excuse me, Jeon Jungkook, Min Yoongi? Do you really think you can post one after another on Twitter, send the world into heart palpitations, and not expect your girlfriend to do something about it? Hmm?!
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of the pandemic; reader and Yoongi have giant heart eyes whenever they see each other; feels and fluff; smut (fem reader, dirty talk, nipple play, f and m-receiving oral, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, m-masturbation, double penetration/spit roasting); idol!BTS
that’s right JK posted his blue hair and i absolutely lost it part of ‘not allowed’ series, but can be read alone. basic summary: your boyfriend asked JJK to fuck you, then again, and then they decided to make this a thing; based on real time.
--
Your boyfriends woke up today and chose violence.
Everything was fine. You were on your lunch break, sitting in your kitchen, knowing you would have to get back to work soon. A quick meal and scrub of the dishes left you with you a few minutes to check your phone. You didn’t get many messages throughout the day and you preferred it that way. You took a moment to scroll through social media.
Only to choke a little seeing Jeon Jungkook, the Golden Maknae of BTS, reveal his dark blue locks to the world in the middle of the damn day. Did you almost drop your phone? Yes. Did you not because it was the special edition BTS S20+? Also, yes. The TinyTan SUGA phone case would have protected it anyway, but… still.
You placed your phone aside and went back to your computer, ready to attend work again.
Not quite composed, but it was just a picture, just a picture, just a picture…
Except you knew what Jungkook looked like naked and that wasn’t helping.
Three hours later, you snuck a glance at your phone only to be attacked by the cutest human being in the world, Min Yoongi, SUGA of BTS, sometimes Agust D, all the time lil meow meow because, holy shit, why the fuck was this man so cute? Those damn cheeks. Those eyes. Fuck, you loved his eye shape. And his pretty lips. Damnnit, why couldn’t you kiss him right now?
They’re trying to kill you and ARMY all at once. 
You’re convinced.
You rubbed your temples and took a deep breath.
It is only a coincidence. It doesn’t involve you. They’re only being their usual adorable, attractive selves and giving a gift to the fans. You weren’t delusional. It was their job to do things like this. You knew this and you were used to it. You’ve seen Yoongi say all kinds of things in V-LIVEs and you always thought it was funny. Lately, he hadn’t been responding to them much though. As for Jungkook, well.
Everyone in the world wanted Jungkook, including you, so could you blame the world? No.
Jungkook tried to tell you before that he was shy and you recalled all those see-through shirts he’d worn on stage. All those ab reveals. Hmm, you weren’t fooled.
“I wanted to make sure you were looking at me, noona,” Jungkook had teased you, hooking his arms around your waist. “I had to get your attention somehow.”
Yeah, yeah, your attention and millions of other people.
It made you laugh, until he became your boyfriend, and now it made you choke on air like every other human being who saw him looking that good. Before you had the safety of giving your full attention to Yoongi. Yoongi had always been your priority and you wanted to make sure he felt that way.
Little by little.
Jungkook grew up.
And became harder and harder to ignore.
Even more difficult when Yoongi gave him the apartment key and told him to fuck you in his stead.
You heard your phone ping. You checked your messages, saving your work in the process.
That will teach you to post such sexy pictures.
You twitched. Excuse me? What was Jungkook talking about? Your personal, private Instagram was for expressing your – sometimes eccentric – fashion sense. Was he referring to the images you posted for Valentine’s Day, the ones with the white vinyl coat, red stockings, and sky-high red heels? Hmph. You couldn’t even see your face in those. Actually, you deliberately cut off most of your face in all of your pictures. The most you showed were your lips, always painted to match your outfit. You didn’t want anyone to recognize you, even by happenstance.
Made taking pictures much easier, since you never had to do eye makeup or worry about accidentally making ugly faces.
It was private now, but it wasn’t before, and the only reason you privated it was because you started dating Yoongi. You still wanted it use it as an outlet though, so you left it as is, with your follower count unchanging. It wasn’t that many people to begin with and you were pretty sure a lot of the accounts were bots.
In any case, sometimes you felt like being creative and dressing up, thus you did so on Instagram. You couldn’t dress like that when you went to visit Yoongi. Ah, and now Jungkook too. To be honest, you loved fashion and trying on different looks, but it wasn’t possible unless you were alone. And you were alone a lot, with no one but strangers to appreciate (or be confused by) it.
Might as well take a picture, right?
And if you could tease Yoongi a little, at least from a distance, that was even better.
You forgot Jungkook also followed you now though. 
Dammit. 
Had the photos been sexy? Sure. Provocative, lots of leg, almost a peek of ass but not quite. Red lips to stand out against the white. If the coat was black, it would have been more traditionally fetishist, but that's why you had picked shiny white vinyl. Brighter for the cute holiday. 
Who are you kidding? You wore it to provoke Yoongi.
He texted you after you posted it. Usually, he said things along the lines of, pretty, cute, you look crazy, I like it. Only sometimes did he say...
what the fuck
You had asked him if he liked your post today. 
I'm not trying to pop a boner in the middle of practice, control yourself woman.
Maybe don't post such cute selfies then, you had thought. Then your phone pinged again. 
Send a picture with the coat open. Jungkook wants to see. 
Oh, so now that the maknae was involved, he was going to pin things on the younger one. Two can play at this game. You sent the photo to Jungkook first. You knew that if the situation was reversed, Yoongi would have done the same. Jungkook's reaction had been hilarious.
Noona?! WHAT???
And then a slew of head exploding emojis.
Yoongi had been agitated until you finally sent him the picture too. It had been a fun incident.
Until your boyfriends woke up today and chose violence.
Dammit. 
You stared at blue-haired Jungkook and 'Blue and Grey' Yoongi from the MTV Unplugged performance. 
This just wasn’t allowed. 
-
This visit had a purpose, but then you saw Min Yoongi standing in the hallway waiting for you, wearing an olive-green shirt, hands in the pockets of his black sweatpants, small smile on his lips. Purring your name lovingly after you closed the door, and you realized you missed him so very much, his lovely dark brown eyes and dark hair, and then you were suddenly in his arms and he was hugging you. 
With both arms. 
Yoongi was recovering well and he still couldn't do strenuous activity yet, but he was hugging you with both arms and you wanted to cry because it was so nice to have them both around you. You could've been cool and collected, yet somehow both you and Yoongi had the same idea to first hug and breathe in each other, his fresh, woodsy scent strongly invading your nose and his soft cheek against yours.
"You smell different."
"Do you like it?" you mumbled into his neck, kissing it lightly. 
"Mhm."
You thought it had worn off by now, but the new perfume you had purchased lingered far longer than you imagined, clinging to your hair. Warm spiced sweetness with a hint of sharp smoke. Yoongi inhaled deeply beside you.
"You should wear more perfume," he murmured, hands kneading your waist.
"Someone might notice."
"Nah, your taste similar enough to mine."
He was taking off your coat and you were stepping out of your shoes, being pulled deeper into the apartment, and now his kisses were yours, soft and light, every one saying, I missed you, I want you, I love you. There no need for words when it was Min Yoongi. Fingers tapping down your waist, pulling your oversized black shirt up and over your head. 
"Excuse me?"
You pooped your head out to see Yoongi staring at your chest, jaw dropped and eyes wide. Oh, right. You had been so occupied with hugs and kisses that you almost forgot. Your shirt fluttered to the floor, forgotten.
You smirked. 
"Surprise."
Yoongi made a face at you. Somewhere between angry, aroused, and shock. Good. Serves you right for posting such a cute selfie.
The front door opened. 
Both of you instantly moved, you sliding behind him and into the bedroom, Yoongi standing in front of you, masking your frame. The discarded shirt and jacket could be explained away – that's why you wore oversized men's clothes, usually in Yoongi's preferred color palette.
"Hyung?"
Oh, whew. Actually, wait. No, this was danger. 
"Ah, Jungkookie."
Yoongi placed his hand on your arm and you popped your head over the corner once you heard the door close. Yup. A swift shake of dark blue locks, white sweatshirt and loose black sweatpants, and that mischievous smirk with a wrinkle of his nose. 
Danger.
"Hey, noona!"
Damnnit, planning for two is hard! You couldn't just go put your shirt on and do the grand reveal again. Yoongi grasped your upper arm with his right hand and yanked you from the doorframe. You squeaked, body stumbling into Jungkook’s view.
"Did you plan this?" Yoongi asked with a cocked brow. 
Jungkook's eyes went wide. 
"Uh... no, but I like where this is going," Jungkook replied, smirk growing. 
The black lace bra stood out against your skin, strappy and elegant, molding to the swells of your breasts and the curve downward to your waist, matching the garter belt that disappeared into the black jeans you were wearing. You didn't usually wear lingerie. It wasn't practical and if you accidentally left something behind... it wasn't worth the risk. Yoongi and you took every precaution to not fuck this up. 
Therefore, you only wore lingerie on your private Instagram. 
Only showing little flashes, never the whole picture. And, really, you wore it in your photos to mess with them. It made you feel nice too, so it was a win-win. This set was familiar to Yoongi and Jungkook because you had worn the red version in the original Valentine’s Day themed photos. 
Again, you didn't usually wear lingerie, but Jungkook and Yoongi couldn't just post pictures on Twitter back-to-back, two-shot you, and not expect a damn reaction. That kind of shit wasn't tolerated! On top of all that, you had to wait and get properly tested before getting here. This pandemic extended your frustrations. So, yes, fuck it, you wore the damn lingerie that made you feel the sexiest. Even if your jeans were still on, you knew you looked good. 
No one had to tell you. You checked in the mirror before you left. 
"Is this your response to my text a couple days ago?" Jungkook teased, kicking off his shoes and bounding over to you two. His dark blue hair shimmered in the light, like a night sky covered with stars, smile pure and naughty at the same time, lighting up his whole face. 
Fuck you for being hot, Jeon Jungkook!
You leaned back against Yoongi, crossing your arms under your breasts, pressing them together. Jungkook grinned, the mole underneath his lower lip winking at you. 
"Something like that," you coolly replied. Shit, there was an edge to your voice. Hopefully neither Yoongi or Jungkook picked that up.
"Hmm..." 
Jungkook pursed his lips, the tip of his pink tongue sticking out the side. Ack. You had to look away. You turned and bumped your lace-covered tits against Yoongi's chest. His dark brown orbs flickered to your breasts, sly smile on his lips. 
"This is your fault too, by the way."
Yoongi raised his eyebrows, amused. "What do you mean?"
You dropped your hands, surveying him suspiciously. "You think I don't know? Posting right after Jungkook? That's not allowed! You know what that does to me."
Yoongi leaned forward. Your breath caught in your throat, heart beating fast all of a sudden. You backed up, right into Jungkook's chest. Uh oh. Yoongi hummed, black hair shadowing his face, devious sparkle in those dangerous eyes, his voice a raspy, purring drawl. 
"What does it do to you?"
Your hand fell back to brace yourself and Jungkook's fingers wrapped around your wrist, stroking your skin. You felt him shift behind you and then his lips were on your ear, whispering in his silvery voice. 
"Yeah, noona. Tell us.” His grip on your wrist tightened, squeezing lightly, asserting his presence behind you. “Or you can show us."
...
!!!
How dare they tag team you? First, they visually attack you – and millions of other ARMY – in the middle of the workday, and now this, Yoongi closing in, kissing you once more, deeper, hungrier, with dark intent, smirking against your lips as Jungkook took both your hands, ghosting his long fingers over yours. You whimpered into Yoongi's mouth, body tensing, Jungkook pressing himself into your back, breath against your hair. 
"You smell different," he murmured.
You couldn't reply. Yoongi was sucking on your tongue, making you whine. 
"Warm, sweet, and spicy."
Yoongi released you and you gasped for air, bucking into Jungkook's crotch. "I bought it last week... thought it smelled nice..."
Jungkook nuzzled your hair. "I like it. Makes me horny."
You laughed a little, turning your hands around in his to lace your fingers together. He held your hands firmly, grinding his crotch into your ass. You could already feel his arousal through your jeans.
"Sounds dangerous," you mused. 
"It is," Yoongi chuckled. "But you should keep wearing it anyway. You smell good."
Heat rose to your cheeks. Then you realized your jeans were already undone, being daintily pushed down by deft hands and an amused expression, Yoongi crouching to pull them along. Bit by bit, revealing the matching garter belt, the high-cut black lace panties that framed your thighs, and lace-topped sheer stockings, all the straps emphasizing your softness, sinking into your thighs and ass.
"Fuck..." Yoongi breathed, running his fingertips over the delicate fabric, touch so light against your skin, dancing up your knee. "You're so fucking beautiful."
He looked up at you, eyes so dark they seemed black, playful smirk on those perfect pink lips. Thump. You felt Jungkook pull your arms back and press them to his sides. You grabbed fistfuls of Jungkook’s shirt, staring down at Yoongi advancing between your legs, his smirk growing wider and more teasing, lovely voice low and husky, deep with arousal.
"What's the matter?" Yoongi purred. "Cat got your tongue?"
Your body tensed in anticipation, Jungkook's hands crawling around your sides, one tattooed, one not, fingers hovering over your now trembling chest. Looking down at Yoongi's smug expression, tongue flicking out and teasing you. Reminding you how good he was and how long you'd been waiting. 
Fuck you for being hot, Min Yoongi!
"Don't overexert yourself..." you breathed.
A sculpted brow lifted. 
"I have help now," he reminded you and Jungkook's hands sank into your barely-covered breasts. 
"Fuck..." Jungkook hissed into your ear, running his palms over your nipples, listening to your gasps as Yoongi dived between your thighs, hot tongue sliding against the lace. "Missed these tits so fucking much." His lips on your ear, growling your name, that dominant edge to his silvery voice, tweaking the hardened nubs while Yoongi teased your clothed clit with his tongue, the lace hardly a barrier but still an effective one, the rough threads plucking against your sensitive nerves.
How long had it been? So long, almost forever since Yoongi’s tongue was on you, soft and fast and the perfect pressure, deliberately teasing you and not moving the fabric aside, so close yet so far. If it wasn’t Yoongi, maybe you could tell him to move it, maybe you could beg, but you couldn’t speak because of Yoongi’s tongue and Jungkook’s rough touch, his hands on your breasts, pushing them together, your nipples poking tiny tents in the black lace, running his fingertips over them over and over, his hips grinding into your ass. Yoongi cupped one of your ass cheeks and spread them, your panties bunching in the center, Jungkook’s hardness slipping in, still covered by his sweatpants.
Wetter, hotter, sanity slipping little by little.
“Y-Yoongi… J-Jungkook…”
You tried not to shove your hips in Yoongi’s face, not wanting to strain his neck, and ended up pushing back instead, bouncing against Jungkook’s cock. The younger man snickered, nipping at your ear, pinching your nipples, and you felt a slick squelch as Yoongi’s tongue pushed the lace into your dripping pussy. The moans dragged out of your throat, eyelids fluttering, letting them do whatever they wanted, pleasure flooding all your senses, watching Yoongi wreck you, clutching Jungkook’s sweatshirt, panting their names, leaking more and more, the scent of your juices getting stronger and sweeter.
“This isn’t fair…” you panted. “I’m going c-crazy…”
Yoongi hummed on your clit and you cried out, hips rocking, so good, head tipping onto Jungkook’s broad shoulder, his long blue hair brushing against your cheek and eyelashes.
“Good, because you make us crazy,” Jungkook muttered, pushing your breasts together and squeezing them roughly. His voice was so deep you could feel your back vibrate with his words. His other hand came up and gripped your chin, trailing down and fitting around your neck, the loose sleeve falling and revealing his forearm tattoos, contrasting your lace-covered skin. “Always looking so fucking pretty and making me want to fuck you…”
His index finger came up and pressed against your lower lip. Those chocolatey eyes were watching your face from his peripheral vision, smirking as he witnessed your expression.
“Even showing off these sexy, fuckable lips. That’s not fair either, noona.”
“T-That’s not…”
Jungkook’s hand at your throat dropped and you yelped, his large palm fitting around your right thigh and lifting it up, fingers sinking in. Stockings, lace, garter, Jungkook’s touch, holding your leg up and out, giving Yoongi a perfect view of your glistening core. Then there was more, too much more, Yoongi pushing aside your panties, soaked fabric snapping against the inside of your thigh and then his mouth was directly on you, oh, fuck, his tongue on your throbbing clit, lips wrapped around it, pure suffocating ecstasy, your slick juices dripping down his chin, so easy, it was just too easy for Yoongi to make you feel so fucking good and he looked so sexy doing it too, those cat-like eyes piercing into you, ordering you to cum for him, to spill all over his beautiful face.
“Yoongi… fuck, your tongue is so fucking good–”
Your body rippled with pleasure and you flung your head to the side, away from Jungkook’s ear to moan far too loud, filling up the entire hallway, wanton and lewd, absolutely pornographic and sinful in nature, orgasm gushing into Yoongi’s waiting mouth, shuddering against Jungkook’s hard body. So many sensations, too many sensations. Yoongi sank his nails into your ass, growling as he sucked out your cum and drank it, Jungkook grinding his stiff length in between your ass cheeks, spreading your leg so far that your left one was quivering with strain, tits squashed in Jungkook’s left hand, his warm tongue on your ear, whispering darkly. Dirty, sensual, and your pussy couldn’t stop throbbing, Min Yoongi’s mouth and Jeon Jungkook’s low octave driving you insane.
“You look so fucking good, noona. Your body is so fucking perfect, so sexy wrapped up in lace,” he exhaled, sliding his palm over your nipples roughly, earning more depraved moans. He lowered your leg, slowly, Yoongi lapping at your clit, sending shocks of pleasure up your torso as he cleaned you off. Jungkook’s hand slid down over your stomach, flicking the straps against your skin, small snaps of pain that made you gasp, trapped in Jungkook’s power, letting him take over you. He took a step back, forcing you to arch your spine and look up at him, a curtain of cobalt surrounding that handsome face and those intense brown eyes.
No one could make you feel the way Yoongi made you feel. No one.
So...
Why did staring up at Jungkook like this do things to you? Why did it put your heart on a string and tension in your throat? Get it together. You weren't a teenager. Ask for what you want. He was just so insanely attractive in every way.
Jungkook smirked and you wanted him to ruin you. 
He lifted you up easily. You saw Yoongi standing up and wiping his chin, self-satisfied and amused. He tilted his head and plucked one of the straps on your stomach, a light, erotic sting. Yoongi made eye contact with you, locking you in his gaze. A single look, and your heart was fluttering, immediately smitten. One by one, fingers wrapping around a few of the straps and pulling you to him, backing up, leading you to the bed by own your lingerie. 
"Why today?" Yoongi drawled, tracing the curve of the bra cup, sending shivers over your skin. "Feeling risky?"
You raised a brow, focusing on him, trapped in those cat-like eyes. 
"Control yourself. Aren't you used to this body by now?"
Yoongi grinned devilishly, darting closer, leaving you breathless in his speed. The scent of his cologne and your orgasm lingered on his skin, a delicious combination. 
"Never."
Kissing you, taking your startled inhale, and you could taste yourself, fuck, just something about his skilled lips and your taste had your fingers twisting into Yoongi's shirt, rolling your body into his, still being so careful, but it was so hard because he was making it so hard, teasing you with that deft tongue, bursts of pleasure with every heartbeat you had while captured in Yoongi's lips. You missed it, this intensity, the overwhelming feeling that Yoongi gave you, being able to give in to the want, but you still couldn't give in without abandon, but you were so close. 
So close. 
Ruin me. 
He pushed you lightly and you felt another pair of arms wrap around you, the kiss suddenly broken, but the second touch was familiar now, one tattooed arm, one not, and you knew that if you fell, these arms could catch you.
Jungkook put you in his lap, your back touching his bare chest. Oh, shit. Before you could think much about it, he turned you so you were laying in his arms princess-style. He must have removed his sweatshirt while you were talking to Yoongi, but he still wearing his pants, now sitting in the side of the bed, blue hair messy from your hands and the removal of his clothes. Your arms hooked around his neck instinctively, not wanting to fall, but he had his right hand splayed across your shoulder blades, holding you up securely. 
"Mmm, this is nice," Jungkook murmured, playfully smiling. He nuzzled your nose, tongue flicking over your lips. "Why did you make us wait so long, hm?"
You frowned, breath against his chin. "The number of cases got higher... and you all were so busy... I couldn't get tested until recently."
Jungkook made a disgruntled noise. 
"Hey, public health and safety is important."
He pouted at you. "But..."
"He's horny and wants to fuck," Yoongi cut in.
"Hyung…!"
Yoongi pulled up his chair and sat down, looking amused. 
"He's been jacking off to your pictures."
"N-no, I haven't!"
"Really? I have."
Yoongi's face was completely neutral. It was hard to tell if he was lying or not. 
Jungkook tried to hide his flushed face with your hair. "... M-Maybe I h-have..."
"Tsk, tsk, naughty Jungkookie," you teased.
"Noona..."
"And you?"
You felt Yoongi grasp your chin, tipping you back in Jungkook's arms. Some of your hair fell over your eyes, hazing your vision of Yoongi. Even so, his intent was obvious. You could feel it in his gaze, the burning hunger, his fingertips caressing your chin, leaning forward slightly to observe you. 
I want to ruin you. 
Yoongi didn't have to say it. You knew it, pierced by the predatory glint in his eyes. You could tell he missed this, could tell that he wanted to give in to his desires, wanted to lose control, only limited by his own physical body.
However. 
He pressed his thumb into your lower lip, lifting a brow. 
Jungkook was here now.
Yoongi gave you his trademark open-mouthed smirk. 
"Ruin me," you whispered, staring into those cat-like dark brown eyes. The recognition was instant, pleased that you knew what he wanted. You shifted your attention to the maknae, his chocolate eyes wide, watching your tongue slide out and licking Yoongi's thumb. "Ruin me, Jungkook."
You loved the way Jungkook could turn from blushing anxiousness to sly confidence, and all it took was your words and the way you said them, enabling him in the best way possible. The dark blue hair helped accented the shift in demeanor, creating cool-toned shadows over his lightly tanned skin. 
"Anything for you," Jungkook purred.
You gasped sharply as you felt two fingers slide into you, Jungkook’s thumb rubbing your overstimulated clit. Your body jerked, trying to get away, but Yoongi's hand on your chin slid down, pressing on your chest, holding you still, your name a dangerous rasp from Yoongi's lips.
"Stay still."
Your eyes flickered down. Right hand. Okay. You shouldn’t be worried anymore, but you were. It was habit.
"Yoon–ah!"
You gasped, left arm firmly behind Jungkook's shoulders and the other behind you, your hand on the bed to steady your balance as Yoongi shoved the bra cups down, exposing your breasts. He lowered his head, the contact of his lips on your hot skin paired with Jungkook's thrust of his fingers into your pussy. Instant waves of pleasure overtook you, fingers sinking into the sheets and Jungkook’s hair, fuck, his beautiful navy hair standing out against your skin and, for some reason, seeing that made you feel prettier, thrusting your chest in Yoongi’s face to get more into his mouth, spreading your legs wide to give Jungkook more access.
Only a brief moment of, I should know better, I shouldn’t be doing this, and then Yoongi’s eyes were on you, tongue flicking your red nipple.
Let go.
Was this even fair to them? Could you satisfy both? Could you and should you? But Yoongi’s eyes were telling you to let go, to chase the feeling, to give in, and hunt the desperation and the want. They wanted you. There was nothing like this and there will never be anything like this again.
“Give it to me,” Yoongi growled.
You whined sharply as you felt two more fingers push into you, but not Jungkook’s fingers, Yoongi’s fingers, his thumb joining Jungkook’s on your clit and your eyes rolled back, so wet and aroused from knowing both Jungkook’s and Yoongi’s fingers were thrusting into you, four in total, your pussy sucking them in, back arching as Yoongi sucked on your nipple. So much pleasure, rapidly ascending higher and higher, so fucking full and tight that their fingers were making sloppy smacking sounds, matching rhythm so they filled you completely together, all at once.
You couldn’t stop your hips from meeting them, fingers spreading out in Jungkook’s hair and the sheets as you came hard, gasping their names, euphoria soaring through your nerves, and still they didn’t stop even though your pussy was violently spasming, creating a messy splatter of your juices on the inside of your thighs and their hands. Instead, the pace changed, Yoongi switching sides on your chest, and then you really couldn’t think, because Jungkook was lowering his head too, and now both of your nipples were getting abused, Jungkook’s arm firmly under your upper back to hold you up, not letting you fall.
“Yoongi, Jungkook… p-please, oh fuck!”
Your other hand flew up and buried in Yoongi’s dark locks, both hands in their hair now, one blue, one black, another orgasm crashing down, moan torn from your chest. And they kept going, changing the pace again, your toes and fingers curling, every muscle tense with irresistible, consuming ecstasy that you almost felt a little numb, unable to compute anything else but your body scantily covered in lace, two mouths sucking on your nipples, four fingers stuffed into you, clit engorged and sending violent shocks throughout your system. You couldn’t even discern one orgasm from another, pussy continuously throbbing and convulsing with the continuous, chained orgasms, so wet that it was soaking the tops of your stockings, the sweet honey of your cum the predominant scent in the room.
“I… I-I can’t take a-anymore, please…”
Your legs threatened to close but Yoongi snapped his head up, snarling your name dangerously.
“One more,” he ordered. “Give us one more.”
“Your pussy feels so good,” Jungkook panted, saliva dripping down your chest. “I love it so fucking much, even when it’s around my fingers.”
You were trying to hold back, trying to control it, tensing everything, your core, your legs, your arms, and you didn’t even realize it, but you held your breath too, biting your lip and seeing Yoongi and Jungkook at the same time, both watching you, fingers punishingly squelching into your tight little hole, stretching it out unforgivingly, abused clit pulsating so hard it almost hurt, and it was exactly what you wanted, brimming, boiling pleasure that threatened you on the brink, closer, closer, closer, and the world was almost hazy with how ferociously you had constricted the coil.
“Fuck!”
You threw your head back, back abruptly arching and smacking them in the face with your tits as everything came plummeting down, resolve cracking with a wanton howl, orgasm racking through your entire frame so hard that your body lurched and flinched, Yoongi and Jungkook cradling you while you rode your high, grinding your hips into their hands and carnally moaning, liquid gushing out and dripping down your legs, your ass, down Jungkook’s sweatpants and onto the bed.
It was such an intense orgasm that you were lightheaded, hands slipping out of their hair and falling down, drained, aftershocks causing your body to shudder, even as they removed their fingers. Your clit was still throbbing, pumps of pleasure spreading through you.
It was obscene witnessing Yoongi and Jungkook cleaning their fingers off right in front of you, pink tongues sliding between the digits, licking off your viscous cum, giving you a perverse sense of satisfaction when Yoongi moaned softly and Jungkook groaned lowly, savoring your taste like a fine wine. Yoongi spied your exhausted, smug expression.
“Do you think you’re done?”
You gave him a weak smirk. “I better not be.”
“Sit in Jungkook’s lap,” Yoongi said calmly. “Face me.”
You tilted your head curiously but did as you were told, shifting your still quivering legs so your thighs were on the outside of Jungkook’s thighs, the balance a little difficult, but Yoongi took your hands and placed them around his hips. You held onto him as he lifted his shirt, pulling it over his head.
“Jungkook, rip her panties off.”
Wait, what did Min Yoongi just s–?
Two strong hands dug out the lace trapped in your ass and fastened around the thin fabric.
Riiiiiiip!
“Yoongi!”
The shirt fluffed his black hair as he removed it, dropping it onto his chair. You glared at him as Yoongi looked down at you, expression blank, dark brown orbs full of mischief.
“You knew it was going to happen. If he wasn’t going to rip it, I was.” Yoongi placed his right hand on his left shoulder. His tone dropped, mockingly rueful. “You wouldn’t want me to hurt myself, right?”
Yeah, this was why you didn’t wear lingerie.
But, also, this was why you wore it today.
You felt Jungkook tugging off the now useless pair of panties, plucking them out from under your garter belt. Oh well. You liked the red more anyway. That’s why you had bought two sets, after all.
“Remind me to take all the bits before I go,” you grumbled.
“Sure, noona.” Jungkook dangled the said lacy bits next to your head. You narrowed your eyes and mouth into slits even though he couldn’t see. “I’ll put them in my pocket.” You felt him shove them into his sweatpants.
Were you… going to remember?
Yoongi beckoned you. You shot him a warning look, still annoyed, but Yoongi pointed down to your hands on his hips.
“Isn’t there something you want?” Yoongi mused in that raspy, dark tone, the one that made your irritation fade instantly and replace it with arousal. “Take it.”
He cocked his head, shading his dark eyes with his hair, pink lips parting, the slightest hint of a smirk. Challenging you. Go on. Show me how much you want me. Your body still buzzed with the aftermath of moments before and yet you still lowered your head, sliding your hips back, sucking in a breath as your puffy pussy lips touched Jungkook’s toned chest, smearing yourself on his skin.
“Ooh, I like this,” Jungkook murmured, leaning back a little to give you space. You rocked your hips into his torso, his muscles flexing under you opening, inflamed clit brushing against his hardness. You pushed Yoongi’s pants and underwear down, dipping your head, hearing Yoongi breathe your name lustfully.
“That’s a pretty picture.”
He was only semi-hard, but he was getting harder and harder, watching you grind against Jungkook’s pecs. You knew exactly how to get him the hardest, dipping down and latching your mouth around one of his balls.
“Fuck, yes,” Yoongi gasped, his hand coming up and fitting behind your head. You sucked it into your mouth and then extended your tongue, bouncing the other with your wet muscle while sucking the first one. The first time you did this, Yoongi was literally speechless, sputtering and confused at how you could stimulate both at once and in two different ways, sucking with your lips as your tongue flicked against the other, slurping slightly to add vibration over the sensitive skin. You felt his cock swell, smacking your cheek, fully hard at the combined sensations.
“I still don’t know how you do that,” Yoongi gritted out, keeping your hair away from your face.
“Do what?” Jungkook asked behind you, one hand on your ass and squeezing it.
“She can suck one of your balls and lick the other at the same time.”
“What?!”
You yelped at the sharp sting of Jungkook’s slap to your ass.
“How come you never did that for me?” Jungkook complained, whining a little.
You tried to lift your head, but Yoongi’s hand refused to move. You make a muffled noise of distaste, but Yoongi answered for you as you switched sides.
“Have you asked?” Yoongi replied calmly, sighing in satisfaction.
“How am I supposed to know she has porn star skills?”
“Is this a discussion for right now?” you mumbled into Yoongi’s balls.
“No, because you’re supposed to be swallowing.”
“Wha–”
The second your mouth opened, Yoongi nudged his cock between your lips and you wrapped them around it, moaning as his stiff length slid down your throat, so satisfying, his taste on your tongue, so delicious that you didn’t even want to complain, you only wanted to bob your head up and down, hands on his hips. Yoongi chuckled above you, guiding your head with his right hand, left loosely by his side. You slid your lower body up and down Jungkook’s chest, your increased slickness adding more stimulation.
“Fuck, that’s so damn hot,” you heard Jungkook groan. There was a rustle of fabric and then skin on skin, his muscular arm brushing against your stocking clad thigh with every stroke.
If only you could take a picture and could see how sexy you were, blowing Yoongi with his hand behind your head, tucking the head of his cock into your throat a little deeper every time you descended, your pussy sliding up and down Jungkook’s chest, and Jungkook furiously jacking himself off while watching you suck his hyung off, feeling your slippery clit throb against his skin.
Good thing the door was locked, because of any other member walked in on this, it might have become a damn foursome.
“Close,” Yoongi panted, fingers digging into your scalp. “You want it like this?”
You hummed approvingly in your chest, increasing your pace and fucking Jungkook’s torso harder, nearing your end too, Jungkook moaning louder and pumping himself harder. So many indecent sounds, skin on skin, mouth on skin, hand on skin, moaning, crying out around Yoongi’s cock, his saliva-covered balls smacking you in the chin, you ass slapping down on Jungkook’s chest.
Hot, wet, positively sinful.
The chain reaction started with Jungkook. He came suddenly, choking on your name, shooting up your chest, warm stickiness splattering onto your skin and you squeezed your eyes shut, moaning as you came all over his chest, slippery and sweet, drenching his skin, throat muscles tightening, Yoongi whimpering your name, a rare moment of lost control as he thrust his hips into your lips, coating your throat with thick hot strings, forcing you to swallow fast, the pressure satisfying and overwhelming, gulping it all down eagerly.
You did ask to be ruined.
Just… a little more.
Your eyes were still closed, lazily licking Yoongi’s twitching length. He was panting above you, gently stroking your hair, words so soft that they were almost inaudible.
“I love you…”
You went all the way down and Yoongi groaned, your tongue flicking the top of his balls, rapid, swift laps that made his cock swell again, bending against the roof of your mouth. Yoongi chuckled, knowing exactly what you were doing.
“Still want more?”
You backed up, panting hard, Jungkook’s cum clinging to your chest and lingerie, hair a mess from Yoongi’s hand.
“Want your cock in my pussy,” you demanded hoarsely. “Want you to fuck me, Yoongi.”
He pretended to think about it. “Hmm, I don’t know…”
You got off Jungkook’s lap, snaking around the younger man’s body, crawling onto the bed, eyes on Yoongi, his intense gaze following you, enticed by your movement. On all fours, hips in the air, dropping your chest down a little, the curve of your back accentuating the roundness of your bare ass. Still in your garter belt and stockings, your bra half-off, the lowered cups pushing your breasts together invitingly. Jungkook turned his head, pink lips parting as your fingers fanned out over the sheets, one eyebrow arching gracefully.
“Jungkook in front. Yoongi behind.”
“Do… Do you want a towel or something, noona?” Jungkook asked, blinking rapidly at your assertiveness.
“I want to get fucked and I want to get fucked now, so get over here.”
“Bed’s going to be a mess,” Yoongi remarked, moving quickly, shedding his pants and going for the nightstand, taking out a condom.
“We can sleep in Jungkook’s room,” was your dry reply, yanking Jungkook’s hips towards you after he removed his sweatpants.
“Wha– ack!”
You spread his legs out in front of you, eyes roaming over his naked body, admiring it all, his legs, his abs, his pecs, covered in your drying juices, his adorable surprised face, navy curls around his chiseled cheeks, chocolate eyes round and awed at your prowess. Your hands were on his knees, breasts hanging down, breathing hard, adrenaline humming in your veins.
“You are so fucking pretty it’s unreal,” Jungkook breathed.
You grinned.
“I can’t wait for you to fuck my face.”
Jungkook grinned back at you.
You dove down, tits bouncing before becoming squashed against the bed, Jungkook’s drying cum flaking off as you wrapped your lips around one of his balls, moaning as you felt Yoongi’s hands firmly grip your hips.
“You have to help me a little,” Yoongi murmured.
“I will, hyung.”
“I mean her too,” the older man chuckled, smacking your ass playfully. Your tongue flitted out, slurping at Jungkook’s other ball from the side of your mouth as you sucked the first one, wiggling your ass at Yoongi to indicate that you heard him. Jungkook yelped, hands slamming down onto the pillows and clutching them, moaning out your name.
“What the fuck, what the fuck, holy shit…” His head hit the headboard lightly, speaking to the ceiling and maybe even the higher power himself. “H-How...? Why does it feel s-so good…?”
You felt Yoongi slide in, so easy because of all those back-to-back orgasms, and yet he still hissed at your tightness, muscles holding him firmly. You could cry with how good it felt, Yoongi finally fully inside you once again, filling you up just the way you liked, knowing how to hit your deepest spot right away, skillful and wonderful. You licked up Jungkook’s now hard length, moaning deeply as you slapped your hips back into Yoongi’s crotch. Yoongi moaned to match yours, enraptured by the feeling.
“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he hissed, nails digging into your ass. “Missed you so fucking much, my love.”
“I’ll do the moving, love,” you gasped back, squeezing Yoongi’s cock inside you. You reached for Jungkook’s right hand and grabbed it, planting it on your head. “Fuck my face, Jungkook. Please. Don’t hold back until you cum.”
Jungkook bit his lip, exhaling your name. “I think I love you.”
“And I definitely love you, so please give it to me.”
You closed your lips around him and sank down, looking up at him and his sweaty dark blue hair, his blown-out pupils, his outstretched tattooed arm, so fucking hot, fuck yes you loved him, him and his body and his work ethic and his sweetness and his firmness as he obeyed your command, thrusting into your mouth from below, filling your throat with the thick head.
Perfect.
You rocked your hips back to Jungkook’s rhythm, matching him, slow at first, but gradually faster, rougher, planting your hands on the bed for balance, completely focused on clenching your core and your mouth to fit the two cocks, giving them the maximum amount of pleasure that you could offer, suffocating them with tightness. It if was obscene before, it was ten times obscener now, Yoongi’s hand on your hip, barely having to move as you smacked your ass into him, Jungkook lurching you forward with his force, clenching his jaw as he chased his release, the bed screaming for help and none of you listening.
“You’re so fucking sexy, fuck, you always make me feel so good, can’t help but want you, need you, miss you so fucking much,” Jungkook gritted out, fingers curling in your hair, desperately and viscerally whimpering out your name as you tipped your head to change the angle, the sensitive head dragging against the roof of your mouth as he buried himself in your throat. “You’re so good to me, such a soft and tight mouth, fuck.”
You arched your back a little more, Yoongi hitting you deeper, hearing him suck in a tight breath at your movement.
“Tighter,” Yoongi growled. “I’m close, come on, give it to me.”
And then he smacked your ass with his open palm, making you moan around Jungkook’s thick cock, pussy clenching around Yoongi’s entire length, and then again, smack! Control slipping with every hit, falling into Jungkook’s pace, the sheer force of his hips pushing you down on Yoongi’s cock over and over, now only focused on hollowing out your cheeks and gripping Yoongi’s cock, the sudden twitching indicating that Yoongi was close, so close, holding out a little so he could watch you longer, torturing you just the way you liked, but he couldn’t hold out for long because you didn’t let him, walls pulsating around him brutally as you came, stuffed so full that you couldn’t think. Yoongi groaned your name, gripping your ass with both hands and digging his nails in your softness, cock jolting as he came in thick pumps, filling up the condom and swelling it against your walls.
It took Jungkook a little longer, but not that much longer, your mouth still locked tight and he hissed out your name, whimpering as he came down your throat, filling it with cum once again, so fast that you had to swallow hastily to breathe, and yet there was more, thick salty dribbles that made you moan, so delicious that you leaned into it, sucking Jungkook dry.
“A-ah, n-noona…”
Your body ached, flinching from oversensitivity, your mind swimming with pleasure. Had it ever felt this good before? You slid off Jungkook’s cock, falling against his thigh and using it like a pillow, chest heaving, sticky all over, lips overused, pussy throbbing, barely realizing that Yoongi had pulled out, far too spent to see straight.
“Fuck, I love you two…”
Yoongi’s face suddenly appeared, smug expression above you. He had crawled over your body, ruffled black hair hanging down, dark cat eyes gleaming.
“Romantic.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“Mmm.”
He leaned down and kissed you, smiling against your lips, mouthing his love to you, forming each word against your skin slowly so you knew. You smiled back, showering him with light pecks, mouthing the words back to him. Yoongi purred and lifted himself up, taking you with him.
“I can’t move,” you complained, using your arms to push yourself up to avoid straining Yoongi’s shoulders. He chuckled, not the least bit fooled by your whines. He pushed you into Jungkook’s hard chest, covered in sweat and cum, and sandwiched you between them, your face right beside Jungkook’s, cheek to cheek. You could feel the heat in his face, his hair sticking to it.
“Noona?”
“Hm?”
Everything was far too messy for this cuddle session, but that could wait.
“Is it okay if I love you?” Jungkook mumbled, burying his nose in your hair.
“Mhm,” Yoongi responded, sounding sleepy.
You brushed Jungkook’s hair away from his face. “I would very much like that.”
“Everything is dirty,” Yoongi grumbled.
“You are a main contributor,” you said cheerfully.
Yoongi grunted, leaning against you, squashing you a little harder against Jungkook. Nothing to complain about. You were enjoying every second of this.
“Jungkookie?”
“Hm, noona?”
You reached up and ran a hand through his dark cerulean hair. Jungkook hummed appreciatively, closing his eyes at your touch.
“You know this shade is Cookie Monster blue, right?”
“… Hah?”
“Does that make you Ggukkie Monster?”
Yoongi burst out laughing, raspy and full, a rare moment of Min Yoongi absolutely losing his shit.
-
part v "Sorry, Jungkook, you're not allowed this time."
--
masterpost
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moonbeamsung · a year ago
Text
I Love You, Rain or Shine
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No matter the weather, I hope you’ll be mine...
member: jisung
au: best friend!jisung x gn!reader
word count: 7.9k
genre: fluff, a tiny bit of angst
warnings: kissing, mentions of insecurities
author’s note: My first Jisung story! In this one, there are multiple flashbacks, and I’ve indicated which parts they are by the extended italicized sections. When I started editing this, it was just under 6k words and now it’s almost 8k...oops :) Let’s just hope it posts correctly now because I just gave myself a heart attack thinking I lost it all. I hope you enjoy the fic!
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The smell of fresh linen sheets and the feeling of warm sunlight pouring through the sheer white curtains greets your senses as you awaken, tucked tightly beneath the blankets of your hotel bed.
The queen-sized mattress had looked absolutely heavenly last night, and you were looking forward to having it all to yourself, but once you settled under the soft covers it felt empty. As you laid awake, eyes staring up at the ceiling in the darkness, you found yourself longing for someone to share it with.
More specifically, your best friend Jisung, who was also in a queen-sized bed of his own just across the room. His even, steady breaths echoed in the silence, soon lulling you to sleep.
The next morning your eyes land on his slender figure, facing away from you as his chest rises and falls in a natural rhythm. As you watch him with heavy eyelids, he stirs and turns to lie on his back, granting you a view of his profile. The light shines brightly on his features and illuminates his smooth skin, casting a shadow on one side of his face and creating a stunning silhouette.
The curves of his straight nose, barely parted full lips, gentle cheekbones, and sharp jawline captivate you and receive every ounce of your attention. You want nothing more than to run your fingers through his dark bangs, pushing them back from his forehead as you gaze at every perfect imperfection.
Oh, how you envied the sunbeams that could caress every inch of his handsome face with such grace and elegance. The lighting makes him appear so delicate, so vulnerable, like he would shatter into thousands of pieces at even the tenderest of touches.
The sound of footsteps on the other side of your door is just loud enough to wake the sleeping boy. You continue to gaze at him as he sighs deeply, his long eyelashes fluttering open. A quiet groan escapes his lips as he stretches his limbs, legs visibly extending under the covers and arms reaching out above his head.
Those footsteps are then followed by the muffled voices of your and his younger siblings, and even a few rooms away you can still tell that they’re speaking at a volume far too high for 8:30 in the morning.
You suppose it’s why you’ve become so close with each other. You both grew up as the oldest child, expected to be a mature role model for your little brothers and sisters to follow. By no means were your parents unreasonably harsh or strict about this, but that responsibility of yours went out the window and was long forgotten during the time you spent with him.
You both could act as crazy as you wanted, laugh at the dumbest jokes and forget about setting an example and just be your authentic, real selves around each other. While your similar family situations brought the two of you together, it also led to all of your siblings and your parents getting to know each other, too.
Jisung shifts once again, now lying on his other side and facing you. “Good morning,” he tells you with a raspy voice and a sleepy grin. You return his words with a small smile of your own, eyes still drowsily fixed on his form across from you. Who knew bed hair could look so attractive?
He’s just about to sit upright when four hyper children burst through the doorway, one pair of them jumping up onto his bed and the other making their way over to yours. It was at moments like these when you thought about just how much you had in common with him. Each of you had a younger brother and sister, one slightly older than the other by a year or two. In your case it was your brother that was older, in his case, his sister.
His siblings all but throw themselves at him, landing on his chest and giggling when he whines, complaining about “personal space.” Yours, although still rambunctious, are more gentle with you and settle for the smaller impact of a hug before they both sit down on either side of you.
“Can we trade?”
You look over and chuckle quietly to yourself at the sight of his siblings pinning him down by sitting on his torso, still covered by the bedsheets.
Out of the corner of your eye you see him tap their shoulders, telling them that if they let him sit up he could reach the remote and turn the TV on for them to watch. They waste no time in scrambling off of their older brother, allowing him the freedom to move (and breathe) again. As he does so, the blanket falls from his shoulders all the way down to his waist, revealing his nightshirt-clad torso that you often found yourself clinging to so dearly in a snug embrace when it was just the two of you.
“Are those the pajamas I gave you?”
Two days before his 18th birthday. You were struggling as you always did to find just the right gift for him, but this year felt different. It really needed to be perfect.
You were about to give up and just ask him what he wanted because you were completely at a loss. As luck would have it, he showed up at your front door right as you were about to leave for his house.
Opening it, you stumbled back with surprise when you saw him standing there, arm extended towards the doorbell. A sheepish smile overtook his features as he apologized, hurrying forward to take you in his arms and make sure you didn’t fall, one hand gently gripping your wrist and the other supporting your shoulder. Recovering from the initial shock, your expression softened and you straightened, your gaze hesitantly drifting up to his eyes and then down to your sneakers.
“I was just about to come see you, y’know.” “Really?” he exclaimed, eyes becoming impossibly wider. You nodded. “What are the chances?” Even without looking at him, you could still picture the pure astonishment on his face as he said those words.
For the rest of the afternoon he would playfully bug you for answers about the present you got him this year.
“Pleeeeeease tell me? What is it what is it what is it what is—”
“Shhh,” you had held a finger to his lips, only temporarily silencing his endless inquiries. His gaze followed the action, the cross-eyed expression looking nothing short of endearing on him. “I don’t know,” had been your response, the blatant honesty of the statement going right over his head.
Several hours later, the grass in your backyard blew against your warm skin in the crisp February breeze. You were both lying on the ground, staring up into the vast heavens that happened to be full of twinkling celestial bodies that night.
“There’s Venus,” he had pointed out, “The closest one to the horizon.”
“You mean that one right there?”
“...No, that’s a plane. It’s moving.”
He turned his head to the side, studying you with an unamused expression before bursting into loud laughter at your apologetic pout.
When the moment had passed and it was quiet between you once again, as inconspicuously as possible, you repositioned one of your arms behind your head. You leaned slightly upwards, high enough to be able to see his dark brown eyes that had turned into inky pools under the dark sky. You noticed how they reflected the bright stars above so clearly, and in that moment something clicked.
“You see the moon? Tonight it looks like it’s in the waxing gibbous stage, which means we should see a full—what are you doing? Is there something on my face?”
With every second that you didn’t answer him, too busy using your best friend’s eyes to stargaze instead of a telescope, his face grew redder. He was sure his face was the color of Mars by the time you finally noticed you’d been staring.
“Huh? Oh! Sorry...” you trailed off, now feeling a bit flustered yourself.
A beat of silence. Then, you spoke up again.
“Wanna know something?” you had asked him, rolling onto your side and propping your head up with an elbow.
Curiosity permeated his entire demeanor in that moment. After meeting his eyes, you continued your thought, an unusual surge of bravery coursing through your veins.
“Your eyes look like they could be a galaxy of their very own.”
Your best friend was so adorably at a loss for words that it was all he could do not to burst into flames. He scrunched his nose up before his hands flew to his cheekbones, hiding the blush steadily coating them. He tried to roll away from you but your arms locked around his waist before he could get far, and you pulled yourself flush against his side.
Your pointer finger found his button nose, lightly tapping the lovable feature before your hand wound itself around his shoulders, finding a home behind his head, gently playing with the soft ebony strands of hair on the back of his neck.
He didn’t have the heart to continue his attempts at concealing his pounding heart and somersaulting stomach.
Forget the butterflies, there was a whole zoo in there.
And like that you both had stayed, tucked snugly beneath the blanket of the night sky. That is, until you were called inside for cookies. Not coincidentally, they were space-themed. One day he had brought over the set of cookie cutters right after he purchased them, and from then on you kept the metal molds in a special cupboard to use whenever he visited. He insisted they made them taste better, but you weren’t quite convinced.
Biting into a Saturn-shaped one, your epiphany from earlier had hit you all over again. Briefly making a note on your phone, you smiled to yourself, satisfied with your idea and wishing with all your might that Jisung would like it as much as you were hoping.
Needless to say, you got your answer days later in the form of the bone-crushing hug he had picked you up and spun you around in. With the pajama set still clutched tightly under his arm, one of the biggest smiles you’d seen from him in a long time lit up his face with joy.
Your question seems to stop time as these fond memories replay themselves in both of your brains. As if a movie projector just turned itself off, you’re brought back to reality when his hands lifts to thumb at the satin hem of the shirt, tracing the delicate stitching. The pajamas are a dark navy color, dotted with planets and stars, suns and moons, and from the moment you laid eyes on them you knew they would suit him well.
“Yeah… They’re really soft, by the way. Thank you again,” he rambles softly.
Leaning back against the headboard, he clicks the remote and the screen comes to life. Your siblings are oblivious to your previous conversation, too busy arguing about which cartoon to watch.
The bedroom door creaks open again, revealing your mother on the other side. “You two are adorable,” she coos, not missing a beat as she quickly extracts her phone from her pocket and snaps a picture. If she had shown you the photo you would have seen your own face looking directly back at the camera, but you might have missed where your best friend was looking: over at you, with his eyes smiling and an expression that was full of love.
Of course your mom notices this, and she wastes no time sending the photo to his for them to gush about their children who are “perfect for each other, they just don’t know it yet.”
You’d be lying if you said it hadn’t crossed your mind.
Some time passes as you stare at the TV, only half-invested in the show playing on the screen. You eventually look back over at your best friend and are met with the sight of his little brother snoring soundly against his chest. He catches your eye, sending you a sweet smile and your heart does a backflip.
You remember how your younger siblings had complained about the two of you having your own room last night. Your parents did their best to explain that it was only fair since you were the eldest and the most responsible kids, and since you did so much to look after and take care of them all the time, they thought you could use a break from being a babysitter.
As you were getting ready for bed you lovingly joked about their stubbornness together, but the lighthearted conversation between you turned deep as you thought about everything that made being the oldest child in the family so special. You were motivated to be someone for your sisters and brothers to look up to. You felt proud when they succeeded and never failed to comfort them when they didn’t. You could watch them grow up. They always returned the love you showed them in their own ways.
A few minutes turned into an hour, and soon it was past midnight. As you began to rise from your spot on the side of his bed, you felt his long and slender fingers grasp your wrist. Turning around, you tilted your head at him questioningly before he swiftly stood up and hugged you, putting his arms around your shoulders as you clasped your hands behind his waist. He’s tall enough to rest his chin on the top of your head. When he pulled back he had lifted a hand to your face and ran his thumb over your cheek, his other arm hanging rather awkwardly at his side.
“Good night,” he had said, the pitch of his voice a little higher than usual and you stuttered out the same words before crawling into bed. A minute or two passed in silence before you heard him speak up, his tone huskier now. “See you in the morning.” Again, you were nearly at a loss for words and so you settled for repeating what he just said back to him, hoping your heartbeat isn’t loud enough for him to hear.
You could tell that he had already fallen asleep soon after, thanks to the gentle sound of the air entering and leaving his lungs through his lips. As you were lying down you suddenly felt a tingling sensation on the skin of your face where his fingertips had held you. You brought your own hand up to your cheek, smiling to yourself at the not so distant memory.
It wasn’t long before you drifted off yourself, immersed in dreams you would never remember of the boy you called your best friend but who meant so much more to you than just those two simple words.
Which brings you back to now, the next morning, looking over at him as he brings a hand up to rest on his sibling’s shoulder, who squirms in his sleep, nuzzling his face into his older brother’s side. He casts his eyes down at the small boy, a look full of admiration and affection in his eyes. An image flashes briefly in your mind of him not with his little brother, but with another child. You blink rapidly, forcing the thought away as you inwardly reprimand your brain. Not the time.
The hotel suite is cozy. There are two master bedrooms for your parents, each with a king-sized bed of its own. Situated in between them is the smaller room where your 4 siblings are staying. You had peeked in earlier to see 2 sets of bunk beds next to each other, complete with ladders and railings for safety. You guess it’s the older sibling in you that makes you pay attention to something like that.
The size of the bedroom that you share is somewhere in between. Your window looks over a quaint courtyard filled with flowers of every color imaginable, bright green trees, and dotted throughout with pastel pink cherry blossoms amongst them. Your families had been organizing this trip for months now, and they had chosen this place because it was famous for its beautiful springtime visuals. The forecast for the next two weeks is perfect, minus a day or two with expected showers.
The pale periwinkle of the morning sky has melted into a vibrant blue by the time his little brother wakes up, slowly adjusting to the room’s brightness. He gives his older sibling a quick hug before bounding off the bed and out the door, closely followed by the other three who had been focused on their favorite cartoons for the past hour.
You want to say something to Jisung about the sweet moment they just shared but struggle to articulate your thoughts into words. He notices the slight furrow of your eyebrows as you think, nose scrunching up in concentration. “What’s up?”
And then the perfect response comes to you.
“Do you still want to trade?” You ask, referencing his earlier complaint and shooting him a cheeky smirk.
“I guess not.” He sighs, scratching the back of his neck in mock defeat.
This time it‘s your father who comes into the room. “What do you say we have a picnic today? There’s a garden downstairs that would be the perfect spot and it’s a beautiful day.”
A few minutes later you’re both brushing your teeth in the bathroom, making faces at each other in the mirror. You nearly choke on the toothpaste in your mouth when he pulls a particularly funny expression.
Once you’re both dressed and ready for the day, you meet the rest of your families in the main room of the suite. Your mom is chatting giddily with his about something on the screen of her phone that you can’t see. The curiosity doesn’t last long enough for you to ask, however, so you end up brushing it off. Your group of 10 soon reaches the ground floor, all walking briskly out of the lobby doors before being greeted by a mild temperature and a gentle breeze.
An hour later your stomach hurts from all the delicious food. While you and him had been tasked with simultaneously picking a place to sit and keeping an eye on your little brothers and sisters, your parents had gone to grab a takeaway lunch for everyone at one of the casual restaurants in the hotel so they could bring it outside, allowing you all to enjoy the weather while you ate. That was exactly what you did, and now you find yourself sprawled on your back, lying down on the large blue and white checkered picnic blanket.
The puffy white clouds above remind you too much of sugar at the moment, so instead of gazing up at the expansive sky full of them, you make a half-hearted attempt to pick out which window belongs to your hotel room. Your best friend is just about to offer you another strawberry when he looks over and sees you holding a hand over your stomach. Turning away, he pops the sweet red berry into his mouth instead before his eyes land on you again, noticing the drowsy state you’re in from eating so much.
You sleepily say a ‘thank you’ for lunch before rolling over a little onto your side, which just so happens to be the one closest to him, and your head accidentally nudges the side of his thigh. Your mother, ever the hopeless romantic, tries and fails to suppress an “aww” at the sight. Currently, you’re slipping in and out of consciousness and don’t hear the conversation she shares with your best friend.
“We were thinking about letting your siblings hang out at the kids club they have here while we go out shopping and then to dinner afterwards. Does that sound okay to you?” He’s slightly confused by the question, but her kind smile reassures him.
“Yeah, we’ll be okay… How long will you be gone?”
“Well, our reservation is at 5, but I’ve heard that the service may be a little slow, so a few hours at least. Don’t worry, the kids may get bored easily but the club will entertain them for as long as we’re there.”
“Should we just go back up to the room, then?”
“I was going to suggest walking around and exploring, but that’s fine too! Just ask what they want to do,” she motions to you with her head and winks. “Enjoy having a quiet hotel room all to yourselves.”
He blushes, glancing at you before responding. If he knew you at all, he knew you would never pass up the opportunity to take a nap in the middle of the day. “Okay, ma’am, I will.”
“How many times have I told you? You don’t need to be so formal with us! We’re like your parents, too!”
You’re awake enough to hear his laughter.
The time reads 2:30 when you finally sit back up again, rubbing your eyes and squinting in the sunlight. Your little sister runs up behind you and grabs your shoulders, giggling when you turn around to lightly poke her rosy cheek with your finger. They had been running around for a while to hopefully get out some of their energy before they spent the afternoon at the kids club. They were rambunctious at times (okay, most of the time) but also incredibly well-behaved kids when they needed to be.
Your parents round them up before sending you two off by yourselves and bidding you goodbye over their shoulders while they begin to make their way across the property, since the club is on the other side of where you’re staying. As you’re parting ways, his little brother breaks free from his father’s hold to give your best friend one last hug, the sweet action warming your heart.
Something about the way your trip began had caused an uncommon awkwardness between you two, but now that the strange tension has dispersed, the walk and elevator ride up to the suite are far from silent. By the time you reach the room you’re nearly out of breath from laughing so hard. Jisung closes the door behind him and asks, “So you’re not tired anymore?”
“Not really. Your bad jokes were enough to wake me up!”
“Bad jokes? Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
You turn around and see him looking at you, a hand over his heart as he feigns hurt. Then his expression changes and you can almost see the lightbulb go off inside of his head. You instinctively back up when he begins to take long strides towards you. “What are you doing…?” The words die in your throat as he gets closer and closer, your steps away from him quickening until you can go no further, back pressed against the wall of the living space.
Suddenly he’s close enough for you to make out every detail of his face, and his looming figure makes you feel small. Your mind drifts to thoughts of counting every single eyelash, every pore of skin, each individual detail on his face, temporarily distracting you long enough for him to tickle your sides with his large hands.
You can’t contain your laughter as you squirm at his touch, trying to escape his tight grasp. The hem of your shirt lifts up enough to expose your bare skin, his fingers ghosting over it just lightly enough to generate goosebumps all over. There’s mischief in his eyes, mixed with the satisfaction of making you giggle so uncontrollably. He knows where all your ticklish spots are, leaving you even more breathless than before in a matter of seconds.
In a sudden burst of confidence he sweeps you off your feet and into his arms, rushing across the room and running into the one belonging to his parents. He carefully lowers you down onto the king-sized bed before continuing to dig his fingers into your sides, your arms, your stomach.
“This is payback!” He exclaims.
“For what?”
“...Okay, you got me, I just wanted an excuse to tickle you!”
“You’re so cute,” You manage to whine, your filter completely gone at this point. You miss how his face burns a deep red at your bold words, but he decides he isn’t going to fight the pride he feels as he lets a shy smile overtake him.
Momentarily resisting the urge to shield yourself from his hands, you gather enough strength after a minute to flip over, caging him in below you with your limbs. It’s his turn to giggle as you tickle his neck, which you’ve learned is one of the most sensitive places on his body.
The loud laughter that erupts from him only eggs you on, and you speed up your pace at the adorable sounds. He raises his arms to block your access to his very vulnerable collarbone and throat, but in doing so he gives you an unintended opportunity to reach his armpits. He realizes his mistake too late, your observant gaze eagerly following his every move and your quick response coming in the form of a few jabs at the underside of his sleeve.
In a rushed motion, he plants an elbow on the bed behind him and lifts himself up, trying to escape what he started, but the momentum is much greater than he anticipates and his lips narrowly miss your own. It happens so fast that the close call doesn’t register in his mind, allowing him to remain blissfully oblivious. It certainly startles you, though, enough for you to instantly fling yourself off of him and to the other side of the large bed.
Confused, he stands and follows you, circling around the pristine white mattress.
“Hey, hey… what’s wrong? Are you okay? Did I do something?” His voice raises in pitch but lowers in volume with every question.
“It’s nothing, really... I was just surprised.”
“Surprised? Why?” He tilts his head and searches your face for an answer that isn’t in the form of words. You realize that he doesn’t even know what just happened between you, and so you decide to preserve some of your remaining dignity by not explaining further.
“Never mind. I’m okay, really.”
He lies down beside you, his eyes full of concern and care. A foreign but not unwelcome feeling settles in the pit of your stomach as you both stay there, gazing at each other in a comfortable silence. Hesitantly he extends his hand, palm open and reaching for yours. You accept and squeeze it a little. He scoots closer, close enough to sling an arm over your shoulder. Close enough for you to feel his breath on your face.
“Can I ask you something?” He blurts out, and you nod.
“Is this what best friends do?”
“...What do you mean?” Your voice shakes as you speak, nervous about where this was going as well as how he manages to speak your current thoughts into existence just like that. He looks you directly in the eye, hand sliding down to rest on your waist.
“I mean, do best friends have tickle fights like this? Do they sleep in the same room like we do? Is that all we are? Because I don’t know about you, but lately I feel like there’s more—”
“—To us?”
“Yeah,” He breaks the intense eye contact with you, opting to look up at the ceiling instead.
“Well, maybe it isn’t what best friends do… but it’s what we do.”
Your anxiousness melts away with every word of the conversation as you realize that you have nothing to lose. Even if you decide that you’re no longer just best friends, he’s by your side no matter what, and you wouldn’t trade your relationship for anything, platonic or otherwise. It was leaning toward the latter at this point, anyway, but who needs labels?
“So… what are we?”
You gently let go of his hand and let yours find his face, grasping his jaw that clenches at the unfamiliar contact.
“We’re just us, you know? Maybe we’re closer than most best friends, but we aren’t a couple. At least, not right now. We’re somewhere in between, and I’m okay with that if you are. If we ever decide we’re something more in the future, we can figure out what that means for us then.” Your soft voice puts him at ease, and he relaxes under your hand, shifting even closer to you.
You don’t shy away like you usually would at such a proximity, as Jisung’s arm trails up your side and around to your shoulder blades, finally halting at the nape of your neck. He’s eye level with you, forehead pressing into yours. A rush of courage shoots from your head down to your toes, inspiring you to tilt your chin up and bump your nose with his.
The few stray moles on his face that you always notice remind you of the constellations in the night sky. Individually, the stars shine brightly enough on their own. But when they’re connected, they form a unique masterpiece. In his case, these freckles are merely a small but beautiful part of him. Every little detail about him is special, but when you picture them all together you realize how lucky you are to lay eyes on such a breathtaking sight.
The intimacy between you is broken as the boy before you makes the same face that made you laugh so hard this morning. You shake your head in mock disappointment before letting a quiet giggle escape you, and at that moment everything seems normal again.
You spend the rest of the evening watching TV and chatting on the couch of the living area.
“You know… you called me cute earlier.”
“I did?!” You panic, turning in his direction with wide eyes.
He nods smugly, nudging you with his shoulder.
“When?”
“While I was tickling you.”
“Well...” you stutter, trying to think of an excuse. Darn. There’s no way you’re getting out of this one.
“Just admit that you meant it and I’ll leave you alone.”
Swinging your legs to the side and facing him, you cross them and pout childishly. “No.”
Jisung frowns at your response, face falling and you struggle to maintain your stubborn facade. You hope he doesn’t take any of this seriously. He should know better, because the amount of times you’ve fawned and cooed over him is far too many to count. Granted, they were mostly playful exchanges like this one, but you recall a particular incident where that wasn’t the case.
You had been studying over at his house one evening when you looked up from a boring textbook only to find him asleep. His glasses were slowly sliding down the bridge of his nose, and a thin page was tucked between his fingers, like he had been in the middle of turning it. Checking the clock and deciding it was time for you to get going, you stood up, quietly shutting the heavy book and lightly setting it down on the carpet next to your bag. You then made your way over to him, the endearing pout he so often wore present even on his sleeping face.
Careful not to wake your best friend, you slowly pulled the still-open book in his hands towards you, his hand falling from its spot on the page to rest on the bed’s surface. You had to haul yourself up onto the bed to reach his glasses, however, and crawling on your knees, you gently lifted them from his face. After folding and placing them on his bedside, you stayed perched beside him, listening to each inhale and exhale that whispered past his lips.
You had absolutely no reason to believe that he wasn’t asleep.
And yet, there he was, wide awake.
He was normally a heavy sleeper, and you knew this, but the tenderness of your touch had been enough to jolt him into consciousness.
Just as he was about to open his eyes and alert you that he was, in fact, awake, you began speaking.
“Sometimes I don’t think you realize how lucky you are, y’know?”
His ears perked up in interest, anticipation flooding his senses as he waited for your next words.
“So many people these days only care about looks in a person. What makes you so special is that while you definitely have those, there’s so much more to you.”
“I’ve always thought a good personality was the most important thing to have. Up until a certain point I was under the impression that everyone else believed the same thing. But the world tells us we have to be pretty, handsome, attractive, or cute to be happy. To have friends. To be liked.”
You hesitated, “...To find love.” He prayed that you didn’t hear his breath hitch.
“When I’m with you all of that pressure just goes away. I don’t have to worry about looking presentable for anyone. You’ve never cared about my appearance. So when I find myself dwelling on yours, I need to be reminded that at the end of the day, it’s not what truly matters.”
“...So then, how exactly are you lucky? Well, it’s simple. You’ve got everything, even if you don’t know it. People like you for who you are, and your looks are just a bonus.”
As you leaned down a little, he swore that he could feel the warmth of your presence radiating onto his skin.
“...I guess it’s not a sin to take notice of them every once in a while, though.”
Even without his sight, your best friend felt the way that your eyes scanned his supposedly sleeping figure. It was like your gaze was as light as a feather, filled with the utmost care and gentleness despite not even touching him.
“Yeah, you’re pretty cute,” you had muttered after a moment, more to yourself than anyone else. He still heard it, though. If you kept this up, he didn’t know how much longer he could pretend to be asleep.
Another minute ticked by on the clock resting on his desk. Stealthily sliding off his bed, you went to gather your things and got ready to leave for the night. You turned off the light and were in the process of shutting his door behind you when you heard the faintest sound come from inside, resembling a goodnight wish.
You were surprised that the door handle didn’t shatter into pieces when your grip on it tightened at record speed.
In all honesty he was exhausted, and your soft, shuffling footsteps around his room had relaxed him to the point of forgetting you weren’t supposed to know that he was awake.
His door was never fully closed that night, as you had been too busy panicking on the way out of his house. He had heard absolutely everything, and you were sure it couldn’t get any worse. The moment which you saw as embarrassing would, oddly enough, eventually become a source of inspiration and confidence for him when he needed it. There would always be an unspoken agreement between you to never bring it up, though, as you couldn’t bear to be reminded of such an awkward mistake on both of your parts.
You can’t stand arguing with him over something like this for long, so after another few statements of denial and prodding from him, you cave.
“Oh, come on, we both know you’re adorable,” you finally blurt out, crumbling under Jisung’s devastated expression. Lunging forward, you can’t help but pinch his cheeks between your fingers, a habit that you’ve developed over the years to tease each other. A habit that he pretends to hate, but deep down he can’t get enough of.
After hearing the words he’s been after, he reaches behind him with a sly grin and holds up his phone screen, showing a newly recorded voice memo of presumably your forced confession. With a gasp you withdraw your hands from their position on his face and turn around, crossing your arms over your chest as a child would do and letting out a loud huff. He scoots toward you and waves a hand in front of your eyes, trying to draw your attention away from the wall opposite you.
“You know you love me,” he tries.
The use of the strong but not inaccurate word makes your heart skip a beat, and you warm up to it within a matter of moments. Sighing, you take a peek over your shoulder before allowing him to pull you down to lie with your head in his lap, looking up at his face above you.
“You got me there.”
A few days pass and nothing is much different between you. Your family travels around the city and occasionally spends the day in the hotel. It happens to be a rainy evening the next time you’re completely alone together. Your parents are taking your siblings downstairs to get some dessert at a cute and colorful candy store in the shopping section of the lobby. Both deciding to go to bed early, you tell them all goodnight and close the door to your shared bedroom as they leave.
The soft sound of the water droplets hitting the window is soothing, but as usual, thoughts of your best friend cloud your mind while you try to fall asleep. You lie down on your side facing his bed, him doing the same across from you. In the dim light you can’t tell if his eyes are open or not. You get your answer a minute later.
In that same raspy voice that always gives you chills, he mumbles, “You look lonely...”
Squeaking a little, you try to recover from the surprise, “What?”
“Come here,” He lazily stretches an arm out, beckoning you to join him.
As you crawl under the blankets, he pulls you close, threading his legs through yours and inhaling your scent. He’s warm, and the bed’s warm, and you never want to leave because this just feels so perfect. His hand comes up to stroke your hair, and you automatically bury your face further into his neck.
Jisung feels you tense up as you realize that while you’ve been in his arms like this before, something about this time feels different, and his fingers graze over your neck to gently massage your upper back. With every passing second the position begins to feel more natural to you, and for the first time since you’ve arrived at this destination that seems to be the epitome of springtime’s beauty, you don’t dream of him because he’s no longer out of reach.
The clock that sits on the end table between your beds, one of which is now empty, reads 1:46 when you wake up, though you don’t turn around to check. You’re exactly where you were a few short hours ago when you fell asleep, held in his snug embrace, wondering how so much could change in such a short time.
“Can’t sleep either?” His chest rumbles as he murmurs, lips against your forehead.
“Actually, I’ve been sleeping. You haven’t?”
“I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Wow, you’re even cheesier than usual in the middle of the night.”
“No, I mean I’m serious. I’ve literally been up all night thinking about you even though you’re right here.”
“...I don’t know how to respond to that.”
“You don’t have to, I just...” He exhales loudly, his warm breath tickling your face.
“What is it?”
“...There’s something I’ve always wanted to do but I’ve never felt brave enough to do it before.” Looking at you in that moment makes him feel like he has nothing and everything to lose at the same time.
“And if I don’t do it now I don’t know if I ever will.”
You nod a little, signaling for him to continue. Your heart seems to have an idea of where this is going but your brain hasn’t caught up just yet.
And then he says four words that you never thought you’d hear but hoped for anyway.
“Can I kiss you?”
Your body answers on its own with a slight hum, head tilting up so you can meet his eyes with your own before they begin to trail down your face slowly.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Every nerve in your body is on high alert, aching to feel the plush softness of his lips against your own. He shares your desire, nearly shaking at the thought of finally doing what he’s dreamed of after all this time. He’s scared he won’t be good at it, that he’ll disappoint you, but as he gazes at your rosy lips he throws everything to the wind and abandons his worries, figuring he might as well try.
And try he does. Everything seems like it’s in slow motion. Nothing about the kiss is rushed, but you find it more romantic that way. When you touch at last, you’re already addicted to the feeling. A thought of your parents and siblings being just a few rooms away enters both of your minds for a split second before it leaves, and you remain unfazed.
You hold your arms against your chest, not sure what to do with them. He doesn’t seem to know either. What does come naturally, however, is your eyes fluttering closed at the contact, and even though you can’t see anything, explosions of color dance in front of your sealed eyelids regardless.
As you break apart you’re both much too shy to look at each other right now. You settle for staring at the dark window behind him, barely able to make out the raindrops trailing down the glass.
He focuses on your bare shoulder, exposed by your sleeveless pajama shirt. He doesn’t even realize that he places a hand on it, or that you look back at him not in surprise, but curiosity.
Your best friend chuckles deeply, “May I kiss you again? Please?”
“Kiss me all you want,” You mumble softly, feeling far from sober after tasting him.
His lips remind you of the fresh spring air that rushes into your bedroom whenever you step out onto the balcony. They’re sweet and a little bit sour, like cold lemonade without sugar. He smells like the crisp, clean sheets of the bed mixed with a hint of oak wood, just like the vibrant, shady trees below your window.
He’s all kinds of intoxicating.
Quickly closing the distance between you once again, Jisung plants another loving kiss on your lips. This time, he gingerly cups your face in his hands, a thumb tucked underneath your chin. The novelty of the sensation overwhelms you, clouding your mind, and you can’t think straight. That’s why for no reason at all, you can’t stop yourself from giggling softly into the kiss, unsure how to properly respond and dizzy from the unfamiliarity of this new kind of touch.
He pulls back a little, lips leaving yours, and your breaths mingle in the small space between you. Fearing the worst, he asks in a deep but quiet voice, “...Are you laughing at me?”
The way he says it, his bright eyes previously so full of hope and love suddenly dimming, makes you feel like someone just punctured your heart. His question breaks you out of your daze, and you rush to correct your error.
Apologies spill from your lips, “No! I’m… This is all really new to me. I guess I’m just nervous… You’re doing nothing wrong. If anything, I’m the one messing this up. I have no idea what to do, where to put my hands… I’m so sorry, we shouldn’t do this.” Squeezing your eyes shut in frustration with your inexperience, you hastily roll onto your other side, facing away from him.
“Hey, hey...” he soothes, firmly gripping your shoulder in an effort to get your attention. You turn, and he sees your face glisten with tears as they overflow from your eyes. “Oh no, please don’t cry… If it makes you feel better, I don’t know what I’m doing either.”
“Really?” You ask, incredulously.
“Not a clue.” He smiles a little, hoping it was enough to bring a similar expression onto your own face.
When you don’t respond, he offers, “Do you want to figure it out together?”
Your gaze softens at his words, and he takes the opportunity to bring his hands to your cheeks, wiping away the tears. With a small nod, you roll over to face him yet again.
“But seriously, where should I put my hands?”
At this it’s his turn to giggle, and he takes your wrists in his own, guiding them to rest on his shoulders. As he leans in for the third time, one hand of yours stays in place while the other migrates upwards, past the back of his neck to comb through his thick, dark hair with your fingers. He’s holding you by the hips now, touch tentative but secure.
Just as you’re about to kiss, he halts his movements, with the minuscule distance of what seems like only a hair’s length separating you. With an innocent but teasing grin, he waits for your response.
Not even caring if you rip it, your hand leaves its spot on his collarbone to impatiently tug on the collar of his pajama shirt, initiating the kiss yourself. The small noise of surprise he makes at the brazen action is cut off by your lips meeting his.
After getting more comfortable and sharing a countless amount of kisses, ranging from sweet, playful pecks to ones full of sincerity and affection, you collapse on top of him. With your head laying on his broad chest, he has a chance to catch his breath before pulling you as close to him as physically possible. His arms come up to tangle behind your back, palms open against the blades of your shoulders.
He shifts you upwards and a little to the side, at the perfect angle for him to pepper featherlight kisses all over your face. At each place where he plants them you feel a faint buzzing feeling, and though there are no visible marks left on your skin, your true feelings for each other are indelible.
“So… what now?”
“Well, I was thinking about formally asking you out, but then I realized that there’s no point.” Jisung’s ambitious words catch you off guard.
“Huh?” You deadpan.
“Not to be dramatic or anything, but I’m saying that there’s no one else I’d rather spend my life with than you. I feel like we don’t even need to make things ‘official’ between us because this is what we both want, right? I… I want to stay this close with you forever.”
After a minute, you reply, face flushed at his confession.
“That makes sense… Yeah, okay.” You take a deep breath. “And… so do I.”
“I know we’re still young, and it sounds like such a silly thing to say at our age. I have no doubt that others would scoff at us, call us too naive if they heard that. Sure, there are bound to be hard times in store for us. We never know what the future holds, but I’m willing to work together to overcome any challenge that stands in our way if you are.”
“Me too.” A triumphant affirmation of your commitment to this relationship, to each other.
“We’re just us, right?”
“Right.” You beam at him.
You exchange a few more sleepy pecks as you cuddle close in the dim light of your hotel bedroom, the scattered tingles on your skin bringing shy smiles to your faces. The giddiness of the rejoicing butterflies in your stomach only grows with every second that you spend like this, in your best friend’s arms. You wonder how you got so lucky.
After a final, longer kiss, your lips are still touching when Jisung gently breathes out, “Sweet dreams.” And you drift off.
You both dream of each other that night, your subconscious thoughts assuring you that it was always meant to be.
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bulletproofscales · a year ago
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the realest of selves
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this is the namkook fic i told yall i was working on, the birthday friend already recived it so i thougth id post it! its not feederism and its very fluffy. hope you enjoy!
https://archiveofourown.org/works/28723872/chapters/70426767
9/9 chapters 6.4 words
tags: established relationship, misunderstandings, fluff, happy ending
the one where jungkook falls in love again through namjoon’s poems, without knowing its him
Moma Muji.
That's the brand of the notebook Jungkook has in his hands… or, hand actually. It's rather small.
Must be passport sized.
He doesn’t own one of these.
He fumbles with it curiously. No, Jungkook doesn’t pick random objects he finds laying around; his mother raised him right.
But this wasn’t just any random object, this notebook had been left abandoned at Jungkook’s favorite desk in the college library. Specifically perfect because nobody used it: desk free of bumps from the scribbles or from people who wrote with too much force, minimal amount of gum stuck beneath it (He aspired for zero, but his dreams had been crushed pretty early on to his college life). The positioning was perfect too, far enough that the library’s wifi didn’t reach it, which was practically useless with the amount of work covered students plaguing the place constantly; but if he needed too, he could connect to the wifi from the classrooms nearby (And Jungkook went to the library at night time so… no classes happening at all)
It's the perfect desk and if something was left forgotten here, then it means it isn’t his anymore.
Which means he has the right to investigate.
The ragged, leather like texture feels expensive against his fingers. If he had to name the color, it would be a slightly darker version of a persian green; it's pretty. Jungkook can’t imagine someone using this for any academic purposes, given the size. He keeps playing around with it in his hands, hesitant.
It is one thing to pick up a stranger’s notebook on the desk, but to open it? It's a completely different violation of privacy. And he said it before: his mother raised him right.
Muji is an artsy brand right? These types of stationary notebooks probably have an information slot where he can find information; a name at least. Something to make hipsters who buy Muji, feel like their notebook is more special and personalized.
If he wants to find the owner he has to open it, doesn’t he?
No. Jungkook could simply deliver it to the librarian and let the owner look for it themselves.
Curiosity is killing him, though. To the point he was already opening the notebook even before he finished that thought. Eyes wide and fingers eager as he leans forward to find what he is looking for.
This notebook belongs to:
the Real Me
Oh.
Oh fuck.
This person is more hipster than Jungkook had even prepared himself to.
That tells him… absolutely nothing.
Hope you’re happy, Jungkook thinks to himself, directing it to the random hipster stranger.
As spiteful as he is of this infuriating halt that was brought to his detective adventure, he has to admit, the vulnerability of the stranger’s answer did absolutely nothing to calm his curiosity.
There's a few moments of quiet, just Jungkook and the first page staring at one another, as if daring him to look further, to sink deeper into the real authentic version of someone he has never even met.
I promise I won’t judge. He thinks apologetically as he flips the page.
In the blood you shed in the winter i was born red
Plum blossom in the snow:
Camellia,
Daffodil
Yeah, yeah, you can call me whatever you want
Listen up, winter you’ve bloomed me
Now I’m going to burn my branches blue
06/01/20
He gasps, as if Jeongguk had been holding his breath the entire time while reading it.
Moma Muji, passport size.
He looked it up when he got back to his dorm. It is in fact passport sized, the same exact measurements as a passport: 4.92 x 3.36 inches. How funny is that?
Jungkook had intended to continue reading in the library. But after...that, a feeling took over him that he was opening in a place far too public for the realest self of the (apparently) poet.
A poet…
There's a dreamy sigh that leaves his lips.
Anyways! The point is he took the notebook to his dorm and is now preparing himself to read more of it; from the safety of the locked door.
I’m real good, but a little uncomfortable
I’m still not sure if I’m a dog or a pig or what else
But then other people put a pearl necklace on me
So much blabbering
One says ‘run’ another says ‘stop’
This one says `look at the forest`
That one says ‘look at the wildflower’
My shadow, I wrote and called it ‘hesitation’
So they really are a poet.  
In the back of Jungkook’s head he had expected for that first one to just be a silly quote this person added to the beginning of their notebook; maybe from a song from a band that they brag about listening to before it was popular.
But it's not…. this person is a poet…
This person is a romantic . The thought comes with a warmth that spreads across his cheeks.
It's obvious, these are romance poems. The first one, speaking about falling in love in the winter, about how delicate the poet’s significant other makes them feel; as delicate as these winter blooming flowers, comparing himself to a plant that burns under their love even during the winter. Love is getting them through the cold.
The second poem, however, is a lot less optimistic. Clearly the poet is battling their own feelings of inadequacy with the flattering words of their partner. They think of themself as a pig or a dog while they’re being treated with love. Different directions and orders are being directed to the poet are the contradicting opinions of themself: the ones they hear of their own and the ones from their partner.
So they’re probably in a relationship , he thinks with a little apprehension.
Not that it matters to Jungkook what this literal stranger is doing with their romantic life. He has to remind himself that, given that just the two poems had been able to give Jungkook a sensation of… odd familiarity; as if he knows this person already. It seemed as if with those poems he had gotten a glimpse of the poet’s two sides.
Obviously, the poems already showed two sides regarding the theme of love: safety and doubt. But aside from that, Jungkook couldn’t help but notice the difference in the way of expressing these sides: while the first poem was melodic and metaphorical, the second one held a language that sounded just a lot more accessible and down to earth.
This person must have thought about this relationship a lot.
It doesn’t matter, and it most certainly doesn’t affect him; so Jungkook shuts the notebook closed. He’ll just go about his day.
Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches.
Why does Jungkook remember the exact size?
Hell, why is he thinking about that notebook at all?!
Jungkook had rushed out, stumbling into his running shoes and beanie. Joonie had invited him to go out for a run even though they’re well into winter. And Jungkook… he is smitten enough to say yes.
But, nobody can blame him. He always has so much fun when he is with Namjoon… Or well, he tends to have fun, when his mind isn’t keeping him distracted with useless things!
Useless things like the way Namjoon’s route goes by a huge Camellia bush.
Yeah yeah call me whatever you want
Would Joon like it if he called him Camellia? Would his branches burn blue with love?
“Jungkook-ah, you’ll trip if you keep running that deep into your head, baby.” His endeared tone calls him out of the deep trance. His voice is a little breathless from running, he does so effortlessly while talking after years of taking this same route. The youngest has to shake his head a little bit, for a moment, Namjoon’s voice still sounded a little bit far away.
“You look like you saw a ghost, whats up?” For some reason, his boyfriend’s obliviousness only leads Jungkook to one conclusion: Namjoon hasn’t noticed the Camellia bush.
Of course he hasn’t, why would he?
Jungkook… Can’t ignore the sour disappointment in his tongue.
Odd.
They’ve stopped running now.
You still have to answer something, Jungkook.
“Oh.. I was just-..” He cuts himself off. Doing what? Judging Namjoon for not meeting the standards of a random poet?
“Those flowers are pretty.”  Jungkook finds his voice a little softer, gesturing to the bush a little bit behind him; still at arms reach. He can’t help but sound shy, the answer he came with on the spot was… rather silly.
But, at least it was true , he thinks as his eyes linger over the gorgeous splashes of pink.
Namjoon’s expression is startled for a second, before melting into tooth rotting fondness. “You like Camellias?” Jungkook can feel the older’s eyes on him, tender and loving; before his hand is reaching tenderly for the bush.
He can’t lie, Jungkook is a little hypnotized by the way Namjoon’s knuckles look caressing the flower carefully. “So, do you?” The young hadn’t realized he had forgotten to breathe at the sight, Namjoon’s voice grounding him yet again from his wandering thoughts.
His nod comes hurriedly, thank god Namjoon is used to his spacing out; his chuckles help Jungkook’s shoulders sag down relaxed. He hadn’t even realized he had tensed them in the first place. “They only bloom in the winter… Feels special.” A shy smile grows on his face as he eyes up at Namjoon; he is already staring at the younger with a soft look.
“Who would have guessed you knew about flowers.” There's something gently amused about his tone, playful and flirty. It still makes Jungkook feel exposed.
He doesn’t know about flowers. He just looked up the flowers on his way from the library. But of course Namjoon would pick up on it, his boyfriend has been into botany since before they even started dating.  
Meanwhile Jungkook… has no excuse. He tries to hide it in his face. “Only after spending so much time with you! ”He exclaims softly, nudging his shoulder against his boyfriend’s. Jungkook hadn’t realized they were so close, his hand goes to meet Namjoon’s where it's cradling the flower. “Do you have one of these?”  His voice comes out quietly, too caught up admiring the sight of their big hands holding the almost hyperbolically delicate flower.
Do you imagine the poet cares for Camellias and Daffodils?
Namjoon chuckles softly, for some reason, it feels like he is reading Jungkook’s thoughts. “No, they’re a little too hard to maintain just for a pretty flower that comes once a year.”
Oh… He can’t help his disheartened reaction.
“Hey, don’t look so disappointed.” Jungkook’s eyes snap from where they were stranded on the flower, Namjoon’s hand isn’t there anymore; but he can distinctively feel a hand gingerly tucking a strand of hair into Jungkook’s beanie. Handling the younger in a similar fashion than he did the flower. “We can come take care of this one every once in a while; I’m sure I got some ericaceous fertilizer saved up.”  His eyes meet Namjoon, smiling tenderly.
Jungkook can feel his chest tighten in affection. A grin spreads across his face. “This is just an excuse for you to take me in more runs with you, isn’t it?” He can barely hold his accusing laugh, launching forward to press his fists to Namjoon’s chest; it earns a roll of his eyes, but Jungkook can the tremble of a laugh under his hands.
“Can’t even start a nice project with your boyfriend anymore. Romance is so dead.” His attempts for sound annoyed are laughable. And the answer only makes it more obvious what Namjoon’s intentions truly were.
Romance can’t be dead, though. Not as long as that Moma Muji, passport sized, 4.92 x 3.36 inch notebook is sitting in his dorm.
He feels guilt as he side eyes the notebook laying on his bedside table. Especially with the feeling of Namjoon’s plush lips lingering on his cheek from when he just dropped Jungkook by his room.
Especially when that persian green cover is a mocking reminder of the Camellia bush they encountered; reminding Jungkook that the flower mentioned in the poem has no relation to Jungkook’s life outside from the confines of that green leather cover.
Reminding Jungkook of how… oddly disappointed he is by that fact.
He plops heavily on his bed, arm reaching for his bedside table. When he grips the notebook and opens it, he does it spitefully.
I wanted to have the sea so I swallowed it up
But I’m even thirstier than before
Is what I know really an ocean?
Or a blue dessert?
Maybe it's the soothing feeling of his stomach full from the food he had with Namjoon after his run.
Maybe it's the dark outside his window, allowing his thoughts to think of someone, somewhere, who can’t have enough of their lover.
He doesn’t know… But he manages to fall asleep.
Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover.
The guilt follows him like a shadow.
Damn, he is even thinking in poems now.
He can't help it! He can’t help the way that, despite Namjoon giving him everything, he still longs for a romance like the one in the poems. Everyday, Jungkook sinks a little deeper into the vulnerable self of the poet; his heart fluttering at their verses while simultaneously expecting Namjoon to keep up with him. Keep up with his sensitive tugging of his heartstring that his boyfriend doesn't seem to be syncing to.
In fact, Namjoon seems to be more weary of Jungkook’s attempts at romance. Acknowledging them for sure and just, he isn’t de--escalating his gestures… But… he seems weary of them.
We need the scenery of the night more than anyone
You are the only one, that comforts me more than anything
Thinking “don’t think” it's a thought on itself, you know?
With your falling eyes I look at the night sky again
We are each other's night view
We are each other's moon
The poet said, and Jungkook thought while standing on the balcony of Namjoon’s apartment. The both of them are way too under-dressed for the weather; clouds looking menacing above them; hunched over the railing shoulders pressed together.
It's calm, however, Jungkook feels like his heart will beat out of his chest. Too many words, too many emotions that he can feel bottling up in chest; threatening to spill in a way that he fears is quite too vulnerable to present to Namjoon.
“I really need moments like these.” It feels as if with the help of the poet,Jungkook was able to really grow more comfortable voicing out his thoughts like these. A fear he had to explain to Namjoon when they first started dating, nervously reassured him that he did want a relationship; despite his lack of enthusiasm.
He was so embarrassed back then… Still dealing with the aftermath of a self-homophobic past.
“What about them?” He can feel Namjoon side-eyeing him with a smile.
Of course he doesn’t get it.
That’s something else Jungkook has been losing his grip of: the snarky comments that come out of Namjoon's… inadequacy? He shouldn’t even be calling it that, not when Namjoon has given him everything. It's just, lately, the more Jungkook grows in his romantic acts and words, the more it seems Namjoon is just… playing dumb.
He isn’t picking up any of his signals.
It's getting frustrating.
It's like Namjoon is just backing down when things were starting to get serious for them.
And that fucking hurts.
“Nothing, forget it.” He mumbles eyes still strained on the city infront of them. “It's getting late anyways, I should probably head back.” He can’t hide the distance in his voice. They had agreed Jungkook was staying over, and it's obvious how that objection hangs off Namjoon's tongue as he stares a little widened. Jungkook answers before he can speak. “I have early class tomorrow, it's better if I go from my dorm.”
Somehow, the disappointment grows on his boyfriend’s face more at that. “Oh…” Jungkook fights the urge to kiss the pout off his pouting lips. “Yeah you’re right it would just be… inconvenient to stay here.”
When Jungkook leaves, he feels a heaviness in his chest. But he chooses to ignore it.
Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover, 24 pages.
24 of them, ruled,  though only 16 are being used. Jungkook knows because he counted them, even if he hasn’t gotten to read everything he skimmed through the pages in a weak attempt to distract his mind. The unnecessary but easy counting of the pages, most of them double-sided in their use, except for the last one (They must have gotten tired of the ink bleeding through the pages, Jungkook asumes), helps keep his mind off last night.
Not that he has anything he needs distraction from. He is fine.
Him and Namjoon are fine .
No big fight occurred, no insensitive one sided fallout, no revolutionary discovery. But why does Jungkook feel so… off?
So neglected, so scammed, so robbed of a romance he could be having but doesn’t have. That Namjoon doesn’t let him have.
Jungkook always does this, he always feels so intensely, always too needy and too ready to fall in love. At a speed and intensity that doesn’t match others. He had revealed so much of himself to Namjoon, had been so open about his devotion, his complete and thorough adoration; and he convinced himself to believe Namjoon was okay with his arduous loving.
But if Jungkook took a second to think about it, he had been a fool to think that. Namjoon, his Namjoon is a philosopher by default, a thinker, he dissects, and recognizes, and categorizes, and doubts . Namjoon has so many doubts. About everything really, so perceptive of his surroundings he theorizes about things that aren't his business, except they are because Namjoon has an interest for every little thing in this world.
And it's as enamouring, as it is deadly.
Namjoon questions, questions himself, his intentions, his moral, his relationships, his worthiness .
It’s been four years.
But it's never too late for Namjoon to have second doubts. Even when Jungkook is sinked… so, so deep..
Maybe they aren’t meant to b-
Maybe Jungkook should read a poem.
Parting is to me, a tear that blooms unknowingly in my eyes
All the things we couldn’t say flow out
And lingering feelings crawl up my face
Parting is the reward that comes only at the end
Of my play of lies
It feels like hours as Jungkook stares at it, entranced. Only when he sees a teardrop make the ink bleed and smudge, is when he is snapped out of it.
He sets the notebook down in his night stand. Jungkook doesn’t feel like reading anymore of it, the knot on his chest only tightened by the unhelpful words of the poem.
He read enough .
Jungkook curls to his side dejected, as if offended at the poet and his own relationship problems.
Maybe romance is dead after all.
He feels his shoulders tremble in what's a sob shaking its way out of his lungs. Is he really going to give up Namjoon? Just for a romance that clearly isn’t as perfect as he thought it was?
He can’t.
Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover, 24 pages, ruled, only 16 used.
That's what he thinks when his hand reaches for the notebook almost in a hurry. Jungkook had run back from that dreadful early class, he was barely able to concentrate, a plan forming in his head just as he was about to go to sleep dejected and sad. It kept him all night from the nerves of it all. He has to make things right, and the lack of sleep didn’t stop his adrenaline as it made his mind wander even with the professor explaining in front of him.
The point is Jungkook has the notebook and is desperately running to Namjoon’s apartment.
Guess all those winter runs served some purpose at least.  
Maybe he is being stupid for running in negative number weather in clothes that were apropriate for his ac-heated classroom. But fuck it.
Romance is alive, and Jungkook is the breathing, sprinting, embodiment of it.
When he reaches Namjoon’s apartment, his throat feels like it has shards of ice poking at it with every deep swallow of air, the skin across his cheeks and nose sporting a blush from the cold and knife-like wind across his face running here. His hair is a mess, there’s definitely sweat stains under his arms, and he most definitely looks insane.
He also kinda forgot to tell Namjoon he was coming over, he knows his boyfriend’s schedules and routines so he should be home right now. He always has friday morning’s off. So he doesn’t bother letting Namjoon know, rather fumbling with his shaky, numb fingers to reach for the spare key. The ends of his hands are also red from the cold, tingling and making his movements clumsy.
But he manages to put the key into the whole regardless. And feeling quite proud of himself and with adrenaline still pumping through his veins, he opens the door.
Namjoon is standing near the door, hunched over halfway through putting on his shoes, looking up surprised. It seems as if adrenaline was only willing to get him this far, as it leaves Jungkook’s body completely.
“Babe…” Namjoon’s voice is cutely stunned, with his eyes widened and plump lips adorably parted with a mouth that stays ajar. “What are you doing here?”
“Where were you going?” Jungkook asks instead of answering. His voice is embarrassingly small for someone who took a 35 minute run without an ounce of doubt. Maybe he's just out of breath.
Oh god, Namjoon was leaving, he has stuff to do Jungkook came at a bad time, he is probably over exaggerating and took all of this way out of proportion and Namjoon didn’t even think anything was wrong at all and he is just making a big scene for nothing being the big, needy baby that he is; bothering Namjoon with his useless emotions-
“Your dorm.” He replies so simply, like sinceirty costs him nothing when it's to Jungkook. “I asked first though.” And his tone isn't accusatory as it is teasing.
Namjoon doesn’t specify, but something inside him wants to believe the older was on his way to do the same as Jungkook.
“I...I wanted to tell you something?” He can’t help but sound doubtful. Even when he knows Namjoon is on his way to see him, even when his eyes are soft enough to melt the shard of ice growing on Jungkook's throat; he can’t seem to recognize if it's from the run or the anxiety. “It's kinda silly, though.” He can’t help but coax that out as well. from the outside one would consider Jungkook is belittling his feelings, yet belittling it makes it less of a big deal and maybe it can calm the speeding rate of his heartbeat.
“It must be important if you came right after class.” Namjoon says taking off the single shoe he had managed to put on and properly stand up straight eyeing Jungkook. “Did you run all the way from the bus station? Jungkook…” He scolds, taking Jungkook's frozen hands into his own bigger warmer ones and drags him in.
Jungkook for a moment has to hold back a snicker imagining Namjoon’s reaction if he knew  how he actually got here. And he looks so cute with his small frown and determined expression already. He can feel his own heart sizing up as Namjoon drags him by the hands into the couch, hushing about Jungkook being too careless and too underdressed as he drapes a heavy blanket over his shoulders.
He feels cared for, it's nice.
It's only when Namjoon forced a hot cup of tea into Jungkook’s hands, that they slowly start to regain their feeling, that the older sits  back down next to him on the couch. His eyes are concerned, unsure, as if all this had just been an excuse to make time, before he inevitably has to ask. “What-uh--What did you want to tell me?” He manages to smile, but Jungkook knows him all too well.
Jungkook’s expression doesn’t falter though, he is ready to do this. He needs to do this.
“You...you’re probably wondering what happened to me yesterday.” Namjoon’s expression drops at that nodding a bit quickly, eagerly, and all too endearingly. Jungkook really made him worry, didn’t he?
“I was upset over some rando’s romantic poems,because--well its stupid but- they were so corny and romantic, they actually made me doubt what you and I have.” He can't help the incredulous tone of his voice because, saying it outloud finally, it really is so ridiculous. Jungkook shakes his head smiling, as if humored.
When his eyes find Namjoon again, they melt with love at the older’s stunned expression. “I convinced myself we were out of sync, or that you weren’t getting anything I sent your way. But it was just those stupid corny poems getting to me.” He sets the cup down, hands warm enough to hold Namjoon’s.
“But I am stupid, and corny, and in love.” He feels his own cheeks burning. “So I want to dedicate these poems to you.” Jungkook knows his smile is giddy like a childs as he reaches for his pocket taking the infamous notebook and handing it to Namjoon with an excited smile.
His boyfriend still looks stunned, and Jungkook can only think about how much smaller the passport sized notebook fits in his hands; even when Jungkook’s own hands aren’t particularly small, it's his boyfriend’s fault for being so family-sized.
With a great amount of strength, he forces himself to stop looking at his boyfriend’s gorgeous hands as he skims through the pages. He is a little surprised to find a frown on Namjoon’s brow, an anxious feeling settling over the younger at the bottom of his stomach.
“How much did you read of it?” Namjoon asks eyes staying glued to the notebook on his lap, avoiding Jungkook’s wide vulnerable eyes.
“U-uh.. I read… I read the first five, though--though the fifth one isn't romantic I only want the first four of them for you. They--I think they fit perfectly into my--my feelings for you.” Jungkook is growing nervous by the second, Namjoon’s eyes stay strained on the notebook, as Jungkook grows more and more convinced that he is exposing too much too intensely again.
“So you didn’t read the whole thing.” For the first time since Jungkook handed him the notebook, Namjoon’s eyes traveled to meet Jungkook’s unsure eyes. He can’t find his voice so he just shakes his head, and that makes his boyfriend's shoulders relax with a sigh. “Okay that explains it.”
“Ex-Explains what?”
“None of those poems are romantic, Jungkook-ah.”
Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover, 24 pages, ruled, only 16 used, poems 1-5 non-romantic themes (allegedly).
“How--how would you know?” Jungkook asks almost defensively, as if standing up for the stranger poet with fanaticism.
Namjoon winces as if it pains him to say it. “I left the notebook by your desk, its uh--mine.” He was avoiding Jungkook’s eyes until now, staring up at him vulnerable, but with a small smile. “They aren’t romantic poems.”
Jungkook’s world stops for just a second, the shock is evident on his face. He is beginning to open his mouth to speak again but he can’t find anything in his seemingly hollow head to say anything. “Well...That’s embarrassing.” He manages to say, feeling the tip of his ears burn.
He made that whole love scene.
“I believe the reader can find more than one structured meaning to the poems, it's not that my meaning is above yours just because I wrote it.” Namjoon explains, and maybe it's his imagination, but he sounds a lot more comfortable having seen his own loss of words on Jungkook’s tongue.  He is handing him back the notebook, the older’s smile is almost as giddy as his when he first started his monologue.
“That sounds like bullshit to make me feel better.” He manages to joke with a grin.
“You should read it, the ending” Namjoon’s smile turns warm. He didn’t deny it. Sounds like, thinking the creator’s intentions are equal to the perception of the auciende, is bullshit after all. “It's kinda important.” There's humor in his voice and a pout forms on the younger’s lips.
“Well I liked to appreciate them one poem at a time!” He defends but it's harmless under Namjoon’s loving stare.
“You could have just recognized my handwriting, baby.” Jungkook’s face blushes in embarrassment.
“And take away all the mystery? No.”
Jungkook’s fingers are hurried and clumsy as he flips over the pages, at first eyeing the poems that had already plagued his mind for weeks. And as he continues forward finding more scribbles and poems, only recognizing a word or two before skipping until he reached the last pages. His heart threatened to beat its way out of Jungkook’s chest.
He is pretty sure he is on page 14 when he meets what he is looking for.
Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover, 24 pages, ruled, only 16 used, poems 1-5 non-romantic themes (confirmed by author: Jungkook’s boyfriend).
Jungkook
His own name stares back at him as he prepares himself for what's next. But he can't find it in himself to feel afraid, not with the weight of Namjoon’s adoring eyes on him.
If you’ve reached this part is because you managed to read through this notebook and whatever I coax out of myself to write in it. I
If you reached this part, then it means you managed to get through all the ugly that I put in here, all my doubts and fears and sour thoughts, I displayed them to you.
Because you make me believe that all my ugly insides are worthy of love; that my entire self is somehow deserving of you. You make me want to show you my realest self.
So, I did. And even if it hasn’t happened I’m terrified of the thought already; no one has made me sink as deep as you, while simultaneously lifting me up higher than ever.
For some reason, I get the feeling I’m exaggerating, since you always find a way to love the unlovable parts of myself. But despite that, I want to give you something pretty, and worthy of love.
I used to be one of those whatever people
I didn’t believe in what real love is
I used to say habitually “I want to love”
But I found myself. The whole new myself.
I met you and did I realize that I’m a book
I want to be the best man for you
It's probably naturally because you are my world itself
You are my beginning and the end itself
I wanna become part of your bookcase
I wanna interfere in your novel as your lover.
What would it be like if I really went to you?
If I went to you, would you be sad?
If I am not the one, what would I be?
In the end, would you leave me too?
The wind wind wind that grazes me
I hope that isn’t just this.
My feelings are blue blue blue
My entire head is filled with blue
How much much much
How much much much you…
You’re my person
You’re my wind
You’re my pride
You’re my love
You’re my love.
Jungkook, I want to share my ugly and my pretty with you, I want to let you see me whole .
Would you move in with me?
“You...You didn’t just imagine me acting off sync.” Namjoon breaks the suffocating silence as Jungkook’s widened eyes leave the sixteenth page of the notebook. It looks like the older’s expression has softened, even if sadly. “I thought you had read it all and just...didn’t know how to reject me.” He smiles but it's gloomy eyes avoiding the younger, as if he had assumed this was a fact.
A little bit of Jungkook’s heart breaks at that.
A life shared with Namjoon, Namjoon who trusts Jungkook the deepest parts of his being, that trusts in Jungkook’s ability to love, to treat him delicately around ugly insides, and grounding against a weak trembling frame.
Like he looks right now, eyes nervous and strained on Jungkook as his hands fondle with each other shoulders raising and falling shakily with quivering breaths. Jungkook doesn’t even have to think twice.
Both his hands reach for Namjoon’s shoulders, making sure his entire attention is on him. Namjoon's lowered head perks up startled. “Joonie… I’m sorry your plan didn’t work out the way you intended.” He smiles apologetically and he lets his hands slide down Namjoon’s arms and onto his fiddling hands. “But it's not like it matters.” His tone it's relaxed but it doesn’t seem to calm Namjoon, not even with the stroking of his thumbs over the older's hand.
There's a question rising up the older’s throat but Jungkook doesn’t let it. “It doesn’t matter because... I want to move in with you.” He sees all the tension leave Namjoon’s expression into pure surprise, endearing enough that it coaxes a giggle out of Jungkook, tugging his bigger hands closer to him, kissing him softly; surprised to find Namjoon kissing back with what he can only imagine is all the pent up emotion from this week.
He doesn’t question it for long, he can never think all that much when Namjoon is kissing him.
Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover, 24 pages, ruled, only 16 used, poems 1-5 non-romantic themes (confirmed by author: Jungkook’s boyfriend), now sitting on a bedside table on Jungkook’s side of the bed.
“Where are you going? We already have everything.” Jungkook questions his boyfriend as he starts to exit their apartment door; which is currently filled with boxes they just brought back from Jungkook’s former dorm.
“I just have one more thing to get from my car.” He kisses the top of Jungkook’s head and without any more explanation he leaves through the door. Leaving Jungkook by himself for the first time in this entire hectic day.
The apartment looks messy, or well, messier than usual; Namjoon always tried to be neat for his boyfriend’s sake, and succeeded a few times. Most times, Jungkook would find him covered in work and would offer to clean for him, claiming to be ‘trophy wife’ material. Its catastrophic now, covered in boxes, Jungkookisn’t a hoarder but Namjoon’s apartment is what one would politely call ‘cozy’. It's catastrophic, yet Jungkook can only feel his heart size up in excitement and giddiness; as if completely unaffected by the mess like he normally would.
It's just hard to focus on the mess, when every time he tries to he sees traces of himself in this apartment: in his box of old CDs that will go in a shared collection with Namjoon’s, or how his boyfriend indulged him by taking Jungkook’s energy crystals out of the moving box and into the spaces of the apartment here they belong (even when it's obvious he doesn’t believe in them for a second),  or the way Namjoon got some of Jungkook’s photos printed out and framed so they can decide where to hang them sometime this week.
He’s only been living here for half a day, and Namjoon’s place is already his.
Well, to be fair, Namjoon has been his for a considerably longer amount of time. And that fact alone is enough to make Jungkook stand just the slightest bit taller than before.
Yes he is proud, sue him.
“Back.” Namjoon announces softly shutting the door, and taking out his snow soaked boots, with a hand suspiciously behind his back.
In a wave of confidence Jungkook can’t help the flirty smile as he walks over to his boyfriend. “Yes, back.” A hand settles over the short hairs of Namjoon’s nape, caressing softly. “What’s behind it?” He tilts his head to the side with a smile that tries to be seductive but only manages to be bright.
“Can’t get anything past you, can I?” Namjoon’s face splits into a grin staring down slightly to Jungkook; he isn’t that short! It's just… they’re so close.
“No you can not. I own this place and I’ll establish a customs directorate right at the doorstep.” His grin is wide, cocky almost with its jokes; hands still mindlessly playing with Namjoon’s hair with arms hooked over his shoulders.
“You own the place? Does that mean you’ll pay your share of the bill?” A raised eyebrow is all Jungkook needs for his facade to collapse.
“Nooo, I think you misheard me. I just said this is my boyfriend’s place? My super generous, compassionate and broken college student boyfriend, he is great.” If hsi tone sounds desperate he doesn't care, it makes Namjoon chuckle, and that's all that matters. “No customs. But please show me? Please?” Maybe he is whining, laying limp against Namjoon’s firm torso while he whines like a child.
But you can’t criticize him for it, when it works.
“You are impossible to resist, you know it's not fair.” He says rolling his eyes and shoving Jungkook off of him, with the hand that he has available. Once they're at a comfortable distance he reveals.
A potted Camellia.
“I bet that mean poet had you pretty bummed about not having one of these.” His tone is joking but soft, adoring as a pink tone spreads over his cheeks.
Jungkook’s cheeks hurt from smiling as he nears Namjoon again, the potted plant being the only thing separating them. “He did.” He meets Namjoon’s hands helping hold the weight of the plant. Today, his hands are cold instead of Jungkook’s. “I’ll have to make him pay me somehow.”
“I’m sure he’ll find some way.” Namjoon mumbles but leaning over close enough that Jungkook understands. Placing a soft peck to his lips.
Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover, 24 pages, ruled, only 16 used, poems 1-5 non-romantic themes (confirmed by author: Jungkook’s boyfriend), now sitting on a bedside table on Jungkook’s side of the bed, with a cut Camellia on a whiskey glass with water next to it. Both manifestations of how Namjoon is just as stupid and corny and in love as he is.
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higuchimon · a year ago
Text
[fanfic] The Art of Romance:  Chapter 2
 Daisuke waited until he heard the sounds of Ken getting ready for bed before he slipped to where he'd hidden his sketchbook.  He picked it up and brought it back to the usual hiding place, tucking it into a pile of cookbooks.  Ken never looked over here anyway so it was safe.
Once taken care of, he got himself sorted out for bed, and settled between the blankets.  He expected his dreams to be a little on the naughty side - they had a tendency to be when Ken slept over.  This happened more and more frequently as they got older and he wondered sometimes if he should mention it to Ken. 
Probably not.  He liked the idea of maybe one day broaching how he felt to Ken, but telling him about his dreams?  Probably never going to happen. 
Ken wouldn't mind.  At least, Daisuke thought that he wouldn't.  But it would be so awkward afterward, and part of why Daisuke liked Ken was because of how relaxed they were around each other.  It was really better to let some things stay hidden.
So for now, he would just get some sleep and worry about what might happen another time.
Akigaramon waited.  He kept himself as out of Daisuke's awareness as he could, letting the impression flow that he'd gotten bored and slipped into slumber.  It wouldn't be the first time.  In fact, he spent a lot of his time asleep.  Daisuke's life was, for the most part, far too peaceful for him. He liked chaos more than anything else, and if there wasn't any chaos, he lost interest.
The best he could manage right now was prodding his other half about Daisuke's crush on Ken.  He rather hoped that Daisuke would never say anything at all, and that Ken found someone else.  Wouldn't that be amusing to torment him about?
But for now, he had other goals.  He waited until Daisuke slid into a deep sleep, down below the level of dreams.  Now was the time to strike.  If strike were even the correct word.
He slipped slowly forward, moving so carefully that Daisuke would have no awareness of his approach.  He'd done this before, over the last several months.  He never did it for long, only enough to be sure that he could do it, and then he slid back into his normal place deep inside of Daisuke's mind. 
Tonight, however, was different.  Tonight he carefully slid himself into the front of the mind, and opened his eyes.  For the first time in weeks he looked out for himself instead of seeing what Daisuke chose to look at.  He smiled slowly, licking his lips.  Exactly what he wanted. 
Carefully he stretched and sat up, making a face at the fact Daisuke put on pajamas.  Plain yellow ones - he'd worn practically the same ones, just in different sizes, for years.  He could do so much better.  For now, he shucked the pajamas and stretched again, finding this much more comfortable. Once he was certain of his steps, he glanced over to where Ken slept. 
Sometimes he wished he were better at Digital magic, like Akogimon.  But he didn't think he would need to right now.  Not when he had other ways to get what he wanted.
He settled down closer and pressed his fingers onto Akogimon’s smooth wrist, feeling the heartbeat under his touch.  His deepest nature screamed at him to continue, to break and rend and slay, but another part of him cautioned, wanting to see Akogimon and his strength, the strength that could do what he needed, what he wanted.
Akigaramon had been crafted to be controlled, and he knew himself very well.
"Wake up,"  he murmured.  "Come to me, Akogimon.  Come."
Ken's eyes flickered for a few moments, then opened.  At first, they were Ichijouji Ken's warm violet eyes, and as they focused on Akigaramon, he saw a hint of fear and worry, laced with anger.  Then all of that faded away as the eyes changed to a sharp red.  The tips of his ears lengthened and his skin paled.  He smiled a long, slow, very amused smile as he sat up.
"Well. This is interesting."  Akogimon glanced down at himself and flexed his fingers.  "I hadn't thought about doing this before."
"I've been doing it for quite some time.  But it won't last forever.  As soon as they wake up, they'll be able to take back control."  Akigaramon wrinkled his nose.  "But we can amuse ourselves for now."
Akogimon rose to his feet and regarded Akigaramon.  "And what exactly did you have in mind for amusement?  We can't exactly go out and wreck half the city.  That would get my brother's attention.
"I'm quite aware of that."  Akigaramon sniffed; as if that thought hadn't ever occurred to him.  He was chaos incarnate, he wasn't stupid.  "This is more of what I had in mind."
He had to move quickly to catch Akogimon by surprise.  He fit one hand behind Akogimon's head and brought their lips together, kissing him long and deep and hard.  For a few seconds, he knew Akogimon didn't understand what he was doing.  This was, after all, the first time that they'd really talked to one another.  But as it dawned on the younger son of Piemon what was going on, he started to return the kiss, pressing closer to Akigaramon.
"I like the way you think,"  he murmured when they finally broke apart.  "Is it just me or are those other selves of ours complete fools?"
"Considering they'd rather watch television or go for a walk than do something useful, then yes, they are fools.  Besotted fools, no less."  Akigaramon snorted before he got up.  "I want to show you something before we do anything else."
Akogimon raised one dark eyebrow.  "Is that so?"
Akigaramon gestured for him to follow and headed out to the main room, then to the kitchen.  He knew his way around perfectly and he'd watched in silence as Daisuke hid the sketchbook.  Now he went right there and tugged it out, flipping through it until he came to the ones he was interested in.  Then he handed it over to Akogimon, who regarded it in mild amusement. 
"Pictures of me?"  Akogimon flipped through them, more and more amused with each picture.  "And he had no idea." 
Exactly which one Akogimon meant by that Akigaramon didn't know, nor did he care.  He took the sketchbook back and tossed it to one side before he lounged backwards.  "I thought you'd find those interesting.  Daisuke keeps trying to hide them. But we can put that to use another time.”
Akogimon smirked.  "I can think of several very interesting things to do with those."  His eyes followed the sketchbook for a few seconds before going back to Akigaramon before he pinned the redheaded agent of chaos to the wall.  "Now, are you serious or are you trying to tease me?"
Akigaramon leaned back against the wall.  "What if I said both?"  One hand slid along Akogimon's arm.  "What are you going to do if I tease you?  If I make you want me even more than you already do?"  He licked his lips.  "Can I make you prove that you want me and not Daisuke?"
Scarlet eyes smoldered with building rage and lust mixed together.  Akigaramon's attention dropped down, then back to Akogimon's face.  "I can definitely tell you want me."
"And if I show you how I can make you scream?"  Akogimon murmured.  "If I make you make so much noise that all of the neighbors are glad the two idiots finally got around to banging each other instead of forever making eyes?"
Akigaramon leaned forward enough to brush his lips across Akogimon's.  "I think we should go to the Digital World, where we can be as loud and noisy as we want to without the neighbors knowing anything.  We can make sure our other halves find out when we want them to."
Akogimon nibbled back on him, lips caressing lips before sliding down to tease against the curve of Akigaramon's neck.  "I think you might have a good idea there.  What else are you good at?  Can that mouth of yours do more than prattle?"
"I think you're going to find out very soon."  Akigaramon slid away effortlessly and strutted to where Daisuke kept his D-3.  He could feel Akogimon's eyes on his body and blatantly posed so he had the best view.  He wasn't surprised to hear the soft swish of Akogimon dropping his pajamas as well, then move up closer to him, one hand resting on his shoulder.
"Ready?"
Akigaramon held up the D-3. "Ready."  He turned towards the laptop resting in the corner and flipped it on.  Akogimon moved over and started to type, setting up a new location for the gate to open up on.  Akigaramon peered over his shoulder and smirked to see where it would open up.  "Very good choice,"  he agreed.  Akogimon smiled at him.
"I thought so too."  He wrapped one arm around Akigaramon's waist and together the two of them downloaded into the Digital World.  On the other side, they found themselves in the Digital version of a hotel.  There weren't any other people or Digimon there, but it did have a very comfortable bed, and there would be food when they searched for it.
Akogimon pushed Akigaramon down onto the bed and settled next to him, fingers dancing over the sun bronzed skin, slowly finding out those places that Akigaramon enjoyed the most - be it through pleasure or pain.  Akigaramon wanted to do the same, but Akogimon kept him pinned.
"I think I want to see how you look tied down,"  Akogimon murmured, raising Akigaramon's arm and running his tongue softly over the wrist between his words.  "I know you're going to love it."
"Do you think you have anything strong enough to hold me?"  Akigaramon taunted back.  "There aren't many bonds I can't break."  He wanted to get close enough to touch Akogimon, but any time he moved, Akogimon pushed him back down.  Clearly touch wasn't on the agenda tonight.  That made him want it - and Akogimon - even more.
"That's not going to be a problem at all."  Akogimon leaned forward, his fingers twitching and weaving, words whispered that Akigaramon only mildly understood.  His talents forever lay in the realm of raw destruction.  But Akogimon pinned him back and worked his spell, ending up with bonds of magic wrapping themselves around Akigaramon's wrists and binding them to the bed over his head.  Akigaramon tugged at them, more than a little pleased to see how they kept him down. 
More than anything else, this showed Akigaramon that he'd made a fine selection.  He'd been created to be controlled but those who could do that were few and far between.  Akogimon showed the greatest promise of them all.  All he would have to do was prove it.
Akogimon regarded him with possessive pride before he started again from the beginning, working hard to get Akigaramon as aroused and ready as he possibly could.  That really wasn't too difficult - Akigaramon responded to each touch and taste with increasing need, his hips bucking up towards Akogimon, mewls of raw pleasure wrenching their way out of his throat, his need clear and obvious within a matter of moments.
And yet Akogimon still didn't go that final bit, held off, let the tension build and rise until Akogimon couldn't take it any farther.  His head fell back and he groaned, whimpering.  "Please,"  he whispered.  "Please, Akogimon, finish it!"
"Why should I?"  Akogimon wanted to know, leaning closer, enough so that the heat of his breath ghosted against Akigaramon's skin.  "What will you give me if I allow you to finish?"
Akigaramon could hardly think right now.  The heat built up so high inside of him that all he could consider was how much he needed and wanted that completion.  He'd never experienced anything like this before, and he couldn't stop himself from wanting more.  The bonds kept him from doing what he really wanted to do - take what he wanted and needed from Akogimon.  But the way those lips quirked, the soft kiss of breath against him - Akogimon knew.  Akogimon wanted to give it to him.
All Akigaramon had to do was ask for it the right way.
"Myself,"  Akigaramon groaned.  "I'll give you me."  That was all that he had to give, but it was everything he had to give, and Akogimon could have it, in return for what he wanted.
But Akogimon chuckled, the fingers of one hand resting on Akigaramon's stomach.  "But I already have you.  I can take you any time I want - as much as I want.  What I want to know is what do you want?"
Akigaramon breathed harder.  He might have waited, under other circumstances, resisted harder.  But at this point, he needed that release more than he needed anything else.
"I want you.  Now."
That earned him a firm smack but he refused to protest.  The pain never lasted with him.  He wondered if he could get Akogimon to do it again.  But the other spoke firmly.
"If you want me, then you're going to have to prove it.  You're going to have to show me exactly how much you want me."  Again he stroked, that long teasing sensation of his warm hand going down Akigaramon's sides and closing around him.  "And for extra hard mode, you have to do it without speaking."  His lips quirked. "Of course, that doesn't mean you can't use your mouth."
Oh.  So that was what he wanted.  Akigaramon hadn't done it before but he prided himself on being able to learn quickly.  He nodded eagerly, and Akogimon moved to make it easier.  Akigaramon got down to the business of pleasure, knowing he was doing a good job by the way Akogimon's eyes widened and his grip tightened on Akigaramon's hips.  Oh, this was good for both of them, so very good.
Akogimon shifted position and started to get them both ready for the next step.  Akigaramon wished he'd hurry up on it - he hadn't lost a bit of his own eagerness and now Akogimon was as ready as he was.  Slowly it happened - Akogimon entered him slowly and fully, taking his time.  Akigaramon groaned, doing his best to embrace his new lover as they moved together as one.
One of the best benefits of this location was just how loud the two of them could be, and Akogimon made as much noise as he could.  The sounds of his pleasure echoed off of the walls, mixing with Akigaramon's, and together the two reached that perfect moment within breaths of one another.
That was just the first time.   Both of them could recover more quickly than ordinary humans, and they enjoyed themselves until the first bits of light began to paint the morning sky.  Akogimon finally sighed.
"It's practically morning."
Akigaramon knew what that meant.  They both did; it was all but impossible not to know.  He sighed.  He'd had a very good night, one he looked forward to repeating in the future.  If he'd been human and had a night like this, he'd be too exhausted to move.  As it was, a brief nap, a shower, and a meal would get him back on top of his game.  But Daisuke would have to deal with all of that.
"Do we want to let them guess anything?"  Akigaramon wondered.  He didn't feel up to the task of thinking right now. 
Akogimon worried at his lower lip before he shook his head.  "If they know what we did, they're going to take extra effort to lock us up.  If they take a while to figure it out, then we can amuse ourselves even more."  He dropped a searing hot kiss on Akigaramon's lips.  "I have a plan for that, though.  Let's get cleaned up and go back."
Akigaramon wriggled his wrists.  It would require a lot more than a handful of hours in bondage to really hurt him and he looked forward to finding out just what it might be.  If anyone could hurt him, then Akogimon would probably be the one to do it.  He anticipated what it might be like.
Akogimon dismissed the bonds and the two of them headed to the nearest shower to clean up.  Akigaramon would have preferred still leaving that to Daisuke but to keep their secret, he couldn't.  Probably just as well.  He knew all the places that needed washing and Daisuke might miss something.
Now that would be fascinating to see.  He'd have to try it another time.
Daisuke rolled over, blinked, and groaned.  He was awake.  Normally he jumped out of bed ready for just about anything.  Today his head felt a little stuffed, though he knew he wasn't sick.  He rubbed his face and rolled over to see if Ken was awake yet.  His friend hadn't moved since falling asleep, or at least didn't look like he had.  But as he watched, Ken turned over and blinked at him. 
It took a moment for Daisuke to understand what he saw.  "You look like you didn't sleep at all." 
"I feel like I didn't,"  Ken agreed, hiding a yawn behind his hand.  "But I think I did.  I mean, I know I didn't stay awake.  I just don't feel like I slept."
"Same here."  Daisuke agreed, nestling back into the blankets he'd piled on the floor.  "Did you have anything that you needed to do today?"
Ken didn't answer right away.  At first Daisuke thought that he'd fallen back asleep and he wouldn't have blamed him at all.  But eventually, "Not really.  I'm caught up on everything.  What about you?"
"Nothing that can't wait.  What do you say to having a quick breakfast somewhere and then come back here to sleep?" 
Ken pushed himself up slowly.  "I think that sounds like a great idea.  I know a place that serves an excellent breakfast.  Let's get ready."
Daisuke managed to get up.  He didn't think he'd put his pajamas on backward, but there they were.  Last night he clearly hadn't been thinking at his best.  "Let's do it."
To Be Continued
Notes: Oh, the plans I have. The plans Akigaramon has! And that Akogimon has!
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pintrovert · a year ago
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remember that Bkdk fic idea I had!? Well I finally got around to writing the first chapter!! since I have to sign up and wait for an ao3 account(and also I’m still learning how to use it in general lol), I’ll just post it here chapter by chapter! I’m not sure how frequently I’ll post each chapter but hopefully I’ll get into a rhythm of sorts! This is pretty short sadly but hopefully it’s enough to get some people hooked!
if y’all wanna see the main premise of this fic the link is here. (Also I need a name for the fic stat!! If y’all have any suggestions for the title and/or pertaining to the story/plot plz tell me lol) but also the basic premise is that
newly adult Izuku and Bakugo are pro hero’s, fresh out of high school, they’re dating(but only close friends/family know), they live together. One day they meet their 15 year old selves who are present in their time/dimension due to a alternate universe/dimension/time traveler villain(his quirk). So they decide to help their younger selves get along and understand eachother better.
it’s really just a silly little story and hopefully my writing isnt too bad in this one(takes me a bit to get into it) so I hope yall enjoy!! (Under keep reading)
Chapter 1: Together At Last
Katsuki’s cellphone rings.
Both of them are panting, Izuku groans.
“Aww come on I thought it was our day off!”
Bakugo pushes the other boy off of him and sits up. He picks it up.
“Yeah what the hell do ya want?”
“Damn I finally get a break and this-“
“Oh, ok, alright I’ll get ready… yeah whatever.”
He hangs up and turns to Izuku
“Kacchan is everything okay?” Deku asks.
“Yeah but the agency wants us to do some light patrolling, someone called out sick so they just want us to patrol the area around us and shit. They said we don’t even have to go to the building. We just gotta suit up and leave.”
He had a very bored look on his face. He got up and wiped himself with a towel near the end of the bed.
It took Deku a second to respond because all he could do is stare.
“Oh, okay, I guess I’ll get ready then.”
“Dunno why they called both of us in, I could do fine just by myself,” Bakugo replied, but at this point, after so many years, Deku knew he was just teasing.
It had been a little less than a year since they moved into the apartment. About a year and a half since Class 3A had graduated. So much had happened.
Midoriya and Bakugo had started dating their second year, but even to this day only close friends and family knew, for safety more than anything. So when they graduated and got into an agency, luckily together, they decided to be roommates.
They luckily found a small, halfway decent apartment with two small rooms. It was far from fancy, as they had only been pro heroes for a short amount of time.
They had separate rooms, although both slept in Katsuki’s, Deku’s mainly a guest room, some storage, and most of his All Might memorabilia.
And it was weird. They still were fresh out of high school, and they were barely adults. But they were happy. So much had happened, so much yet to happen. But they both were better.
Even though they were quite young, their ranks in the hero charts were climbing, neck to neck. Even though they were boyfriends, they were rivals first, but the dynamic very different than when they were younger.
And so it was Spring, cool outside, peaceful for the most part, and while there were many strains in their relationship and the hard path of life, they still were finally okay.
“DEKU!! C’mon, hurry up!!”
“Sorry! I’m just tying my shoes!”
Izuku walked up to Katsuki waiting impatiently at the door. They were both dressed in their hero attire, ready to go.
“Sorry I guess I’m a bit slow this morning”
“Really tired you out last night huh?” Bakugo said with a devious smirk on his face.
“Kacchan!” Deku said quietly, face red.
‘Cute.’ Katsuki thought absentmindedly, still got flustered easily.
“Okay we should get going”
“Right!!”
“Okay so here’s where they wanted us to patrol, oi Deku, eyes on me, look!”
Izuku looked down at Katsuki’s phone, which showed a basic map of where they would patrol. Luckily it was near where they lived,
“Right! I mean this area doesn’t usually have a high crime rate so hopefully, it’ll be a smooth day.”
Bakugo looked down at the other young man. He was always so determined, that sparkle in his eye, his positive attitude. Of course their one day off they ended up having to work.
Oh well, they could have a small little date night in their apartment after work.
Their ever-increasing fanbase didn’t know of their relationship. They weren’t out to the public. Still, there was always speculation from the media.
They had to be extra careful, which is why they only had dates in very private places, but Katsuki wasn’t much of a going out date type person anyway.
“Kacchan.” Deku said in a low voice. He snapped out of his thoughts. They had rounded a corner and were near an alleyway. This street wasn’t very populated or alive.
“What the hell do ya want nerd?!” He responded in his usual manner.
A sound. He heard voices, low at first, but one was a lot louder.
A crash. And then.
an explosion.
A small one, but still.
Midoriya looked up at Bakugo
“There’s people, over there in the alleyway,” Deku whispered.
Katsuki nodded and began to walk toward that way.
Deku signaled at him. He rolled his eyes. He indicated that he was going to circle around on the buildings and go through the other way.
He nodded in agreement.
As he edged closer, pressing himself against the cool brick building, he heard the voices more clearly, yet still hard to understand.
“What the hell!!? Where the fuck are we! This is - what!!??”
“Well it must’ve been that villains quirk, I think he was the one who-“
“Shut up! Just shut up! This is all your fault!”
Another loud sound.
Okay, time for action. He jumped out into the clearing before the alleyway. He suspected it was just some lowly street thugs fighting. He barrels down the path and saw streaks of green lightning.
Perfect Timing.
He tackled one of the suspects.
“OW OW!! Help me please! Please don’t hurt me I’m just a kid! I-!!” Bakugo and what apparently was a kid, maybe a teen, were on the ground. Behind him, he heard Deku tackle the other, although the other seemed to be putting up a better fight.
He looked down at the kid.
Wait.
This wasn’t just some kid. It was Deku. Not the now Deku. Not the Deku who got a quirk and was a young adult and was strong and his boyfriend. This was the fifteen-year-old Deku that he picked on. The one he had picked on for years until that point and even after.
What. The. Hell.
“Uuhhhh Kacchan!” Okay so now Deku was still around, which meant that there were two Dekus. Why? He had no fucking clue.
He gulped. He still had his eyes on the young boy. He leaned back and let go of him.
“What!?” He yelled and turned around.
And there he was. It was him.
Bakugo Katsuki.
Except this version was also fifteen. Which means he was still a brat and a little cocky bitch.
Well, this day wasn’t gonna be as easy as he thought.
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onemorrelight · a year ago
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Dear Andy,
You’re no longer dear to me, so I don’t think it’s appropriate to start this off calling you something that you’re not. That’s a lie. Somehow, despite being a bastard man, a betrayer of trust, and an oath breaker, you are still dear to me. How fucked up is that?
You gutted me. I was blindsided. I still miss you, and I hate that. I hate how you liked a post I reblogged and that fucked me up. Again.
What they don’t tell you about giving is that it keeps coming back. Every time there is a new reminder of them, or an action you hadn’t already mentally fortified yourself against, the pain just hits you again. Raw.
I heard Nine Inch Nails on the radio and cried. I haven’t thought about you in months, at least not for this long, until you liked my fucking tumblr post. I feel so weak. I want to message you and say ‘please don’t do that, unless you want a conversation or to talk to me.’ But that’s not something I should want. I need to believe that ‘sometimes the trash takes itself out.’
But fuck. You were a part of my life for so damn long. You were such a positive influence. I know you have your faults. I know this isn’t all my fault. I know this isn’t all your fault. I know I took you for granted. I know I wasn’t a capable friend. I’m still learning how to be one. We both fucked up and hurt each other a lot.
There is this book series; Red Rising; I think you’d like. I try and think of you as my Cassius. The fact that Cass isn’t my friend anymore isn’t an irony that’s wasted on me. But I try and shove you into the role of betrayed and betrayer. Someone who can’t see past his own prose and anger. Someone who called a Blood Fude. Which, honestly, sounds pretty accurate now that I list it out. But I think maybe you’re more like Rouke. Hmm. Or maybe that one is Cass.
Either way, watching the main protagonists fuck up his own relationships, and seeing him process what he’s done wrong, it’s comforting, I guess. I look at those three, and I can’t help but think it could have worked. If their younger selves saw what they would become, that maybe their anger wouldn’t have twisted their hearts so much. Maybe they would have felt like they could have opened up to each other. I think about how it still seems so irreparable. How things have gone too far. It’s relatable.
I miss you all. But I know that you all dropped me. When the going got rough, none of you talked to me. There wasn’t any conversation. I think that’s a big part that hurts. How I cared so much for all of you, how I would have made time if you told me you needed it; I would have gone to Denny’s at two am just to talk it all out, if that’s what you needed. But none of you did that for me. None of you reached out. None of you told me I was hurting you. I didn’t know.
Andy, I know we talked a little about how the texting delays hurt each of us. How some of the people I had made friends with were shitty to you. I dropped those people. All of them. I didn’t know they were shitty to you until you spoke about it that one time. I had no damn idea. I’m so mad I didn’t know or see it. It feels like I should have. Therapy tells me otherwise, but it’s such a hard emotion to fight.
I never really told you what I was going through. I realize that now. How could you understand something I never voiced. I’m learning how to read and understand myself, so that I can advocate for my needs, instead of going silent. I’m not making myself better in hopes that we could be friends again. For starters that would be creepy. But secondly, and most importantly, I don’t think I could ever trust you again. No matter how much I still want to.
Not you. Not Cass. Not Ryley. Not Hayden. Not Camille. Not Wes. Not Ellie. Not Edison. Not Maris. You all just dropped me. You all made it look so easy. It hurts so damn much. Andy, you were my best friend, and I was in love with you. My heart hit the floor and splintered. Everyone else sent it shattering. You all were my closest friends outside of Miles and Tori. That’s it.
I still don’t understand what I did so wrong as to have you choose to drop me and never touch again. Cass sent a text letter. I don’t know what I said or did that had them feeling broken. Therapy tells me no one else can make someone feel something else. It says that our own interpretations make us feel certain ways. Still, I don’t know what prompted that. But I respected them enough to heed the wish to be left alone. Everyone else was a fucking coward and didn’t say jack shit to me. I’m learning how to be angry. That’s a positive silver lining through this. My therapist was proud that I stood up for myself.
So, I know I don’t deserve to have friends that won’t talk to me, or won’t tell me when I’ve done wrong. I’m having better standards for myself. But, of all the people in the world, I still wish I was friends with you the most. But I know that relationship won’t be healthy for me. Not that you want one.
I’m guessing you didn’t know you were still following my tumblr. I sure as shit didn’t know I was still following you.
I should block you. It’d be safer for me. Maybe for you too. But that stupid little flame of hope yearns for you still. How pathetic is that? You cheated on me and I still want you in my life.
I think I have to block you. I can’t spiral like this every time you find something relatable that I share. Hope springs eternal. I need to do my best to circumvent this.
Goodbye Cassius. Rouke. And all you other assholes I thought better of.
I should channel Beyoncé’s Best Thing I Never Had.
Thank god you blew it. Thank god I dodged a bullet. You showed your ass and I saw the real you. Ooo I want you so bad, I can’t let you back, you turned out to be the best thing I never haaaad. Sucks to be you right noooow.
It also sucks to be me. Well. That’s one more thing I have processed you out of. So, hopefully, that with the blocking, this won’t happen again.
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myheartismadeofstars · 8 months ago
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I posted 26,623 times in 2021
65 posts created (0%)
26558 posts reblogged (100%)
For every post I created, I reblogged 408.6 posts.
I added 73 tags in 2021
#i read tgcf - 10 posts
#tgcf - 10 posts
#xie lian - 8 posts
#hua cheng - 8 posts
#hualian - 8 posts
#pokemon - 6 posts
#tian guan ci fu - 6 posts
#san lang - 6 posts
#supernatural - 6 posts
#heaven's official blessing - 5 posts
Longest Tag: 139 characters
#my sister and i used to make up nonsensical lullabies for my younger brother when he was little so he’d go to sleep and the laughter that e
My Top Posts in 2021
#5
Imagine Marnie has a huge crush on Gloria, but she’s shy even though she LOVES her weird and extremely scottish friend, she’s not confident enough to confess.
So Piers watches as his sister pines (full fledged “listening-to-sad-love-songs-in-her-bedroom-I-think-I-saw-Marnie-steal-Gloria’s-Hoodie” pining) over this girl that he is 99% sure likes her back. But it’s not like he’s a good example of what to do, he’s been pining in complete silence over Raihan for years.
Meanwhile both Gloria and Raihan have been trying to pick up Marnie and Piers respectively for a while. They even both decide that the correct course of action is to befriend the sibling, to try and endear themselves to their crushes (and neither finds it hard, since Gloria thinks Piers is cool af and one of the nicest people she’s ever met, and Raihan knows how sweet Marnie is)
Basically Spikemuth siblings are romantic disasters. Overcome by two dumbasses’ pure determination to love them.
96 notes • Posted 2021-04-12 20:07:35 GMT
#4
Me: *watching Unus Annus compilations*
Also me: Imagine Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua doing some of this chaotic shit together. Like playing two truths and a lie, waxing edition, or covering their entire bodies in wax, or making the people around them genuinely afraid that someone is going to die or it will end in a dual suicide, or regressing to their most primal selves in the woods somewhere, or just generally living a “try everything once” kinda life and keeping some sort of record of it for one year (bonus if there is some bullshit plot device thing that allows them to record their antics. However they don’t yeet it after the year because the memories are too precious) just, every day, for a year, the two of them do something together. Fun, or crazy, or silly, or whatever wacky shenanigans they can get up to in the world SQH created (which I imagine must be A LOT)
Luo Binghe can be the “Amy” of the story. Sometimes he’s just the one recording their antics, sometimes he’s the one enabling their chaotic behaviour, sometimes he’s absent  and they are freaking out over him finding out they..stained the floor, or almost caught the house on fire, something like that. Though I suppose MBJ could play the “Don’t tell Amy!” role better than LBH would...but meh.
Is this technically an Unus Annus AU? Maybe? Either way I think it would be fun to see (this is open to anyone to do btw, I have so many projects atm)
112 notes • Posted 2021-01-13 08:34:25 GMT
#3
Bless the TGCF fandom for the fics that allow Xie Lian and Mu Qing to get around their curse cultivation method and allow them to have sex. Especially when they say that love = pure so having sex with someone who genuinely loves you it doesn’t break the taboo. 
Because they deserve to be able to have sex without being punished for it!
(This is especially fun if you think about it in Fengqing terms. Because the idea that the person in his life who loves him purely and without reservations is FENG XIN is fucking hilarious)
125 notes • Posted 2021-01-03 00:57:43 GMT
#2
Finally reading Heaven’s Official Blessing and:
I love “San Lang”. This bitch really leaned on his hand and casually said “I’m scared” without any fucking attempt at appearing so, gazed lovingly at Xie Lian, and told a bunch of ghosts to fuck off and stop interrupting his date. AND flirted with Xie Lian. What a fucking icon!
Also Xie Lian correctly bullshitting his fate, this amuses me greatly
130 notes • Posted 2021-01-08 02:55:14 GMT
#1
I love to headcanon Pucca is genuinely mute. She became attracted to Garu the first time she saw him, but she really fell in love when she learned he was “like her” and didn’t speak.
Some of the sounds she can make sound a bit like words, but they aren’t truly words.
Pucca’s uncles never learned sign, and neither did she. Garu grew up in Sooga Village and never needed to learn (the people in the village just more or less adjusted to him not communicating except in grunts or gestures)
I like to imagine their silence never became an issue until they became teenagers (Garu first, obviously) and were told they would need to start attending high school, and the only school is on the mainland. Then Garu ends up forced to communicate with strangers and ends up learning sign, which ends up being taught/picked up by a lot of the others around the village. 
Pucca and Garu’s relationship ends up being a lot smoother once they have a reliable way to communicate. Pucca learns that Garu doesn’t really like PDA and they just genuinely have different love languages (Physical Touch with a bit of ironic words of affirmation for Pucca vs Quality Time and a bit of Acts or Service for Garu) but she calms down a bit (a bit) once her and Garu start actually dating which in turn makes Garu more comfortable (since his biggest issue was that she came on too strong)
186 notes • Posted 2021-01-23 17:14:08 GMT
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