#sorry if it’s hard to see the characters this chart is so small

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

I’ve read a variation of soft and rough König and I’ve enjoyed both but I’d love to see your take on his character.

I can’t deny I have a preference for soft König. I think his size is a major concern, especially if his partner is on the smaller side, which leads me to believe he’d prolong the inevitable and the pining and anticipation would be off the charts on his end. But maybe his SO thinks he’s not as interested as she initially thought.

Add in the fact that he’s gone for long periods of time in which there is little or no communication and perhaps she considers moving on. The ol’ miscommunication trope if you will, with a happy ending. Thanks!

Overflow the Stars

Pairing: König x F!Reader

Synopsis: One more abandoned date night later, you're left wondering if the man you're infatuated with is really interested in you at all.

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: Angst, feelings of insecurity, body issues, allusions to König's past w. bullying & his anxiety, size difference, fluff, soft!König, happy ending

A/N: This is my apology to the German-speaking people out there - I think I butchered your language (feel free to correct me). I'm so sorry lmfao. But, Anon, this request was adorable to write, hope you enjoy it!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You wanted to say you were surprised when he didn't show up – really, you did – but in the back of your mind, you already knew he wouldn’t. It was hard not to feel disappointed when you swirled your tiny cup of Franziskaner tensely, watching the whipped cream sink away into the concoction of dark espresso and milk; calling attention to the same feeling in your chest.

König had a strange habit as of late, and with a delicate furrow in your brow and perhaps even a smidge of sadness in your eyes, you wondered what you had done wrong. Why had he been avoiding you so…violently? While you wouldn’t have called yourself perfect by any means, nothing you had done over the course of your meetings was strange or downright embarrassing. 

You admitted that the man had never been the type to run away from something, and sighed as you brought the cup to your lips and sipped. Caffeine sits on your tongue along with a bitter revelation as the rain begins to pick up in velocity outside. The small and quiet café where you’re spending your afternoon is warm and unburdened by the weather. 

Do you think…he’s even interested in me anymore? The sharp thought brings a pang to your chest, fingers over the warm cup flinching back as if struck with lightning. O-or he doesn’t like being around me?

Your relationship was still new, very new, and if you were asked you would say it wasn’t even dating yet. König hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend. 

But it had still been going well.

“Or so I thought,” you take a breath, watching the fog on the window as the streets of Vienna are rapidly being emptied of tourists and locals alike. Your shoulders are painfully tight.

Aggressive rainfall like this into the cold seasons was unusual, but it wasn’t like mother nature cared about the whims of anyone but herself. It’ll freeze overnight, leaving a bitter chill that puffs from breaths and a shaky few steps out the door across hardened ice. You’d probably go out – alone – for a walk in the morning to clear your head, or try, at any rate.

Lately, all you could think about was the bear of a man that was supposed to be sitting in the empty seat ahead of you. The cursed wooden chair burns your eyes; its dark wood and red cushion stab your vision over and over until you’re sure you’ll bleed tears instead of water. 

He was supposed to be here.

Taking another shaky sip of your drink, one that König had recommended to you himself a few dates ago, the brief moments of warmth it brings to your bones does little to satisfy you. You doubted anything short of a hulking figure trying to stick their knees under the small table could do just that.

The giant man you called your possible future boyfriend was avoiding you, and your subconscious was breaking itself to try and understand why. As if that gracious plea had been heard above the glossiness of your eyes and the gentle hum of the café workers who shuffle about, the phone in your pocket jumps. 

You don’t want to admit how fast your hand snapped to your thigh, sneaking under the layers to draw out black metal. A single link to König when he was overseas or out of sight that you were told was unwise to use. He was rarely able to answer you, but for what it was worth, he always tried to call back later. 

Even if recently, it had been a brief state of events. 

“I-I can’t talk right now–”

“Forgive me–”

Your lips thin.

Pulling the phone out, you immediately look at the contact, though you already know the message before you read it. The sunken whipped cream finally falls under deep chocolate-colored waves.

“Sorry, Bӓrchen, I’m stuck in the building for the day! I swear I’ll make it up to you for missing–” You don’t bother reading the rest, thumb already scrolling upward to see the numerous times other excuses have been made. 

His parents were needing some help moving furniture, he was drowning in post-operation reports, or simply just too tired. You weren't stupid. But every time you had stuffed down your pride and responded cheerfully, dressed to the nines and standing in your living room while your fingers shook over the keys.

Holding back tears. 

It would hurt less if he’d just tell you to your face what you were thinking. Maybe all of this was just… 

Your thoughts trail off. 

But that didn’t make sense – König was never malicious!

Placing down the phone, you leave him on read, feeling the pitying eyes of the baristas burning into your skin like a brand. They knew as well as you did that he wasn’t showing up.

When he calls sometime later, you shut the device off completely. Staring out the window at the dimming light, you lean your head into the glass and try not to cry as you watch couples rushing for cover from the rain; laughing and holding the other close. 

The empty chair stays motionless in the corner of your eye.

—

The first time you met König, you were left gaping at the sheer size of him. 

Towering over ninety percent of the other patrons in the art shop, he had looked down at the package of charcoal pencils in his large, scarred, hands. Turning them over to read the description on the back like an expert with delicate eyelashes that you’d kill for. 

You yourself had been cast in his shadow quite by accident, looking along expansive shelves for a sketchbook – your friend had gotten into a watercolor phase lately, and what better to give her than a birthday present she could actually use? The only problem was that you had no idea what was considered good quality or not, but had a strange suspicion the man beside you did. But what a happy accident it all turned out to be.

König had a black surgical mask on, but the milky-white scar that ran up his right eyebrow and disappeared into his auburn hairline was still starkly visible. Expressive dark eyes blink down at his object from a surprising height. Between picking up multiple books, running your fingers over the paper and whatnot, you can’t help but stare at the pure strength the man emanates. Compared to you, he was utterly gargantuan in both mass and height. A bear and a bee, you thought with a stifled giggle.

He blatantly appeared to know more about this stuff than you did as he placed the charcoal pack down and picked up another.  

“Erm,” you begin, and his head snaps down to yours immediately, head of hair falling into gentle curls near the ears. He had looked partially surprised to hear you speak to him, and his eyes had flickered around instinctually. But it was only the two of you in the aisle. “I’m sorry to bother you, Sir, but you seem to know a helluva lot more than me about art supplies.” Your voice was cautious, and you were afraid you’d seem rude for disturbing him, but all he did was stare and wait for you to finish speaking. Feet every so often shifting, or his hands twitching as if he never was able to stay still; he blinks a few times like a rabbit. “Any suggestions for watercolor?” A small laugh meets the air as you move your hand to show off the wall of possible options for paper. “I’m not much of an artist, but my friend’s birthday is coming up – thought I’d get her something she’d actually use this year. She wasn't too enthralled with the plant I got her for her twenty-third. Killed the thing in a week.” 

A nervous chuckle is softly met and your face heated as his own did. There’s a moment of a clearing throat before the man nods carefully, and the sparse freckles over his forehead shift. His biceps flex.

“O-of course, Ma’am,” his accent is quite strong, and you like the guttural raspiness of his tone. “I prefer Saunders Waterford, though I don’t manage to use it often. Better, eh, was ist das Wort?” He stumbles for a moment over the proper descriptor. “Beständig. Durable.”

A tilt of his head later, and you’re beaming, picking up the large pad with careful fingers, testing the weight in your palms as one would an apple. 

“Wonderful! It looks like I owe you one, eh?” Looking back up, you watch his eyes widen as you notice him blatantly staring. Face crinkling into a shy display of heat and curiosity, he slightly moves back, a large hand going to scratch at the base of his neck as his sweatshirt bunches. 

Chest tight, you stick out a hand and offer your name with a smile. It was only customary, but the action was pure instinct more than thought-out. All the while restraining a shiver, his limb encompasses yours so completely and radiates a large amount of heat.

“A pleasure,” your voice wavers, but it’s not so much nervousness as it is genuine intrigue. For a man so blessed with the tall gene, he really had a considerate hold – barely squeezing your skin in fear it would break. 

The action makes your chest squeeze.

“Ah, guten tag,” he utters, nodding with a firm shake, though his eyelashes caress his cheeks as his eyes rove away, “König.” 

A bit awkward, isn’t he? You have to ask yourself. Not that it was a bad thing – in fact, you found the nervous tensing of his thighs to be cute, along with that red tinge that was over his pale ears. So very opposite of how you expected him to act.

That was when you noticed the dog tags, as well, though you found no purpose to say anything. But everything about this man had caught your attention as a large billboard would, and the comparison has you practically bending in laughter. He probably could be a billboard with a build like that. No doubt he’d catch a lot of attention.

You tilt your head and release his hand, nodding to König’s charcoal pencils. 

“I bet you can make some killer drawings with those things, huh?” The beast twists them in his hand and turns down to stare at the supplies as if he’d forgotten they’d been there at all. “You draw often?”

“Ja,” his eyes brighten, and the crinkling of his eyes tells you that a small smile pulls at his lips. “Whenever I’m able. I,” König pauses before his shoulders move in a soft movement akin to a shrug. “I…find it calming.” 

Your ribs move in reaction to an interested sound. 

A bear that likes to draw.

“You’re better than me, I’d just get frustrated if something doesn’t look right.” A deep laugh echoes off the shelves before a lapsing silence settles like a bird’s wings. Overcome by a sudden urge to speak, yet having no other words to say, König’s voice meets your ears before you can find something to say.

It’s slow, the tone, bathed in hesitation and even a smidgen of armor; like the outcome of your response was already measured and taken as null compared to the giant’s own thoughts.

“I…don’t suppose I could show you some if you’d be interested.” At your widening lids, his twitching hands come up to his sides, eyes blinking rapidly as a vermilion hue blossoms like a flower over his visible skin. Dark eyes like broken obsidian pay more attention to your shoes than your face.

“N-not, eh, scheiße, I only meant I–” Watching him stutter was similar to what a high schooler would do when he was called out during an assembly. Though, your giggle makes him clear his throat and pause with a stiffening spreading to his legs. His body seems to deflate, taking your reverence for his soft inward nature as making fun or at worse, a blatant rejection. The delicate makeup of his psyche was on display, though you didn’t know. “I’m…I’m sorry, Ma’am–”

“I’d love to see your artwork, König,” you begin, pulling the watercolor pad closer to your body instinctually, cheeks hot. The man perks up, and you can see his heart hammering through his clothes when his eyes blaze with light. “How about I give you my number and I’ll text you a day I’m free and we can work something out? A local café or library sound good?”

“I…yes, that sounds wonderful.”

—

You throw your soaked coat on the hook as you shut the door, hating how the frigid rainwater had wetted your hair, though still holding it as a blessing. At least no one could see the tear tracks as you walked back to your apartment. 

Kicking off heavy boots and peeling the slick layers of fabric from your chest with a sloping sound, you flick on the lights with a shaking finger and a sniffle. Wet footprints are left over the rugs and hardwood as the phantom shuffles over them, beelining to the bathroom to strip. 

Your mind was preoccupied as you slipped out of heavy fabric, the pile already on the floor creating a large puddle that you threw a towel on and left as it was. 

“He…he’d tell me if he didn’t like me anymore, right?” Whispering, the broken words meet air as you toss on a large shirt – the hem meeting your knees as a pair of thick sweatpants follow. 

Quite the look for someone who was having an internal battle. Your friends would say you looked like you were minutes away from grabbing a tub of ice cream and sobbing over a rom-com. The quick-witted part of you confessed that the idea wasn’t even that bad if you threw in a glass of beer. Preferably the shitty kind so you could complain about it and distract yourself.

“Get it together…” You would not cry over a guy that hadn’t even asked you out officially, but with that familiar sting in the back of your eyes, you hissed that König wasn’t just any guy.

You’d really liked him, and for what it was worth, your heart would have exploded if he had asked you out. 

He was kind – respectful. Utterly adorable when he was speaking so passionately about his artwork and his parents who he held on a larger-than-life pedestal. König’s heart was just as big as his body, that gorgeous, bear-like body, and…oh, you’d wished he would like you just as much as you liked him. 

Before you could stop the wave of hopelessness, the tears were already dribbling down your face, and the dark apartment was echoing with the barely-there sobs that hit the walls.

—

When you hadn’t answered him in the next two hours and his calls were going to voicemail, König was hit with a train’s worth of worry. Feet tapping faster than unusual and eyes were finicky as they passed over documents.

Although his contract with KorTac wasn’t exactly like his own had been in the military, the hyper-vigilance was still ingrained bones-deep. The Austrian man held his personal relationships tightly – and if someone wasn’t answering him, the anxiety reserved for large, uncontrollable, crowds reared its ugly head. König wasn’t sure when it had happened, but you had entered that loyal group consisting of his parents and a few work friends in an incredibly small amount of time. 

He really should have bit the bullet and gone out with you today, the man acknowledged as he slipped out of his office and tried once more to get in contact with you. König watched the icon of your smiling face go straight to the familiar voice that in any other circumstance, he would have wanted to listen another moment too.

“...Thanks for calling! I’m not able to speak with you right now, but go ahead and leave a message–”

“Come on, Bӓrchen.” König lightly growls, hanging up and stuffing the infernal device into his cargo pant’s side pocket. 

His usually hidden face was twisted up with worry, so commonly lit with bloodlust on Ops now left in a state of unknown. It was stupid to think like this, but how could he not? In such a small amount of time, you’d made him fall for you like a bird does the sky; that thin line between falling and flying caught underwing. 

That was why he’d been making excuses, you see. 

You were so…good…that he’d been worried about the way he carried himself; second-guessed small actions like a hand on the small of your back in public, or a comment about how nice you looked. 

Did she take that the wrong way?

Why did I tell her that?

I hope she doesn’t think that I’m rude…

You were messing with his mind with every turn, but it wasn’t even all that, either. His size also played a part. Your form was so small as it trailed beside him on walks through the city – it fit in the clutch of his arm easily. 

König was just scared he might break you, he’s never had to be…gentle so often before. It was against everything he’d been taught in the last decade or so.

Pushing open the front door of the KorTac: Private Military Contractor building, the man pushes on with a frown over his scarred lips and a drawn-in expression. He hadn’t even noticed he’d forgotten his surgical mask in his office, along with a jacket, and braved the volatile winds and slapping rain in a slight jog, an athletic shirt tight across his chest. 

By the time he’d reached your apartment building, his hair was dark and stuck to his skin, slight puffs of breath escaping his lips and wracking shivers along his spine. König ascended the stairs in double steps, agile as his heart pounded. 

Being ex-military left him with an undeniable state of readiness.

With heavy knuckles and panting breath, his hand quickly rasps against the door, and after a second of no sound, he does it again. 

“Bӓrchen, it’s me. Are you there?” König’s shoulders are set, ready to batter the door down at the barest hint of something wrong. He calls your name but like a voice on the wind, there’s no answer. Not even a shadow under the barrier, a whiff of your shampoo.

Grunting, strained eyes going grim, the man’s hand encompasses the handle, arm and body going parallel to the wood. His hips tense, feet grinding over the floor as they set. But the nearly missed footsteps that his ears twitched at gives him pause. 

After a few moments of intense listening, his body stone-stiff and eyes spaced out, there’s a clicking of a lock. 

König moves back swiftly, hands going to rest at his sides, and when your face graces his vision, a large weight is lifted. Until he realizes that your eyes are red-rimmed. His lids go startlingly wide, fingers coming up to curl into themselves near his middle, but you speak before he does.

With a hatred for interrupting others, König keeps his lips sealed and watches with a concerned once-over and nervous lungs.

Your hand is clenched over the door frame, the muscle of your tongue licking at your lips as beads of water fall from your locks. 

“What are you doing here, König?” With a voice more hoarse and dry than a desert. The man itches at the side of his hawk nose, hesitant about what he sees. 

You’d never been like this before – always so happy. 

“I…” He trails off quietly, seeing your eyes unwilling to meet his own. “Are you…alright?” 

The Austrian’s fingers jerk when you laugh, and a surprised blink later he’s coming closer to check on you, hand almost outstretched before he sees the size difference and thinks better of it. He just taps on your cheek instead, delicately, like a hit from a flower. 

“Sweet one? Please tell me what is wrong. You weren’t answering your phone.” He wants to beg for you to look at him, plead. “It made me worry for you. Why did you not respond?” 

“So you want me to respond when you’re obviously bailing on me for what,” you pull back, disappearing partially behind the door. König watches with a still body as your arms go to wrap around your waist, dread creeping up his throat. “The third time? Fourth? I guess I’ve lost count.” 

The man’s lips go thin, eyes crinkling as an expression of pure self-hatred takes hold. He had stupidly hoped you wouldn’t notice that. When times got tough for him in the past – whether with the schoolyard bullies or an operation on wrong, avoidance was usually his best tactic; it was one he had fallen back into time and time again without fail. But he’d never told you that. 

And now he looked like a proper Arschloch. 

But you’re not done yet. When you leave the door open and disappear inside the dark apartment, König follows after like a lost puppy, water still dripping from his strong chin and stuck in his stubble. Cursing himself out in his head. 

“Ach, du Depp, jetzt hast du‘s getan. Die eine gute Sache ruiniert, die du hattest, oder...?" He mutters, slipping out of his boots and frantically looking after you as your form goes to the couch. König closes the front door and stays in the foyer, fingers twiddling and mouth opening and closing. 

You hadn’t even looked at him yet, and you’d barely seen him without a mask on. 

The Tv was on, playing some show that he’d never seen and he doubted you were watching. Your body plops to the couch with a shrieking of springs and bouncing of pillows. A small huff escapes your lips, though you speak no more. 

König clears his throat again, a nasty nervous habit along with the fidgeting, as he takes a few steps forward. The finger of his right hand goes to spread through his hair, pushing the strands back like a red wave and unintentionally slicking them to his skull. The clicking of his jaw reverberates in his ears as he resets it, picking at the palate scar under his left nostril. 

He opens his mouth to speak but closes it fitfully and already his face is reddening. König looks away from you for a moment, breathing before shuffling over like a guilty child would on drowned socks. He places one leg on the floor and kneels down in front of you so he can better look into your creased face. 

“Bӓrchen,” he liked calling you that – little bear – because the comparison was enough to make him smile every time it passed his lips. It was such an endearing term that it became difficult to look past the blatant harm he could inflict on you if he wasn’t careful. While his size made him perfect for the field, home life was, well, let's just say he could easily force his way through a crowd. Not that he would, of course. But at any rate, that was what you were to him – a little bear. “I…I have to confess to you that I have been avoiding you, yes? That much has been,” a stiff breath is taken in. “Obvious.” 

Your head turns to the side, knees brushing his own as you hold your hands in your lap. Behind König the show continues to play, spreading a silver light over the living room and the continuous droning of voices.  

Not knowing whether it would be frowned upon or not, and with a steadying breath for confidence, the man loops a cold finger under your chin; bringing you back to him and finally setting your glossy eyes ahead. 

He sees you blink in surprise when you find him maskless, and a faint smile flicks over his lips when your expression goes shy. Cautious like a bird.

“It was of no fault of your own, Sweetling, I ask that you believe me. I’ll try to explain the best I can, Ja? If you’ll let me, though, I know that I don’t deserve it.”

“If you don’t like me anymore, you can just say it…Stop dragging me on, please.” His heart stops, mouth still partially open before a sharp breath is sucked in. “I don’t know if I can take that anymore.” The pang in his chest hurts immensely, like taking an arrow and peeling back skin. You look at him so hopelessly, broken beyond belief as though a piece of you was being ripped out.

“W-why do you say that?” König tries to desperately stop the wetness of your tears from falling, shaking his head and cupping both of your cheeks, rubbing at the flesh in agony. “No, no, no, Dear One. That’s not what it is at all, I beg of you to listen.” In the fever, he switches between his native tongue and English, fingers shaking though not from the drenched clothes. “Meine Schöne, oh, meine Schöne. Bitte hör auf zu weinen.“

He takes quick breaths and finds in himself that he would do anything to stop you from crying – take a bullet, run a marathon, or learn to fly. Name it, any of it. Anything to wipe away the sadness that lives in your expression as if it even belonged there in the first place

“Do not cry over me, please, I-I,” König’s tongue trips over itself, but he persists, a similar burn in the back of his nose. “I…You scare me, Bӓrchen,” that gets your attention, creased eyes and a loose jaw going to give him full observation. 

What?! Your expression screams.

Face on fire, the Austrian continues with intense eyes, dark obsidian awash with pure light that reflects stars. Overflowing with anxious tears that he refuses to let fall. 

He can’t lose you. No, no, not you. You were the best thing to happen to him in a long time. Damn him – damn his own consciousness that’s more of a betrayer than Brutus. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go… 

“...What?” Your voice wavers, nose twitching so adorably that the man is momentarily stunned. 

“I am afraid of you, my Dear. Utterly and wholly.” König sucks down a breath, now the one unable to continue the stare-off. His foot shifts. “I am afraid of what you do to me. Your smile, Gott, your smile. A-and the way you speak, how you react so honestly to my paintings like you care with all of your heart.” He laughs wetly when you smile dimly, continuing as he caresses your skin. “Everything down to your very bones is like…like…” König’s words fumble, because comparing you to something earthly was impossible to him. 

“Ever since I met you in that art store, I cannot string together words with any semblance of meaning when I am around you. Bӓrchen, you have entrapped my mind, and I am afraid.”

He watches you breathe in slowly, tears no longer falling, though the evidence still haunts him. The man’s chest lets go of a tightly wound knot, the anvil on the other side just narrowly missing his heart as the sweat on his brow evaporates.

“A-and,” König sighs, shaking his head and moving his hands to tightly hold your own in your lap. How could he explain the last part of this dilemma? He bluntly states, “you’re small.”

A brief moment of silence bleeds like a wound, long and slow, until a tiny snort echoes. Full-blown laughter emanates not even a second later, and he watches your body heave forward and slot itself with your nose in his shoulder. König’s blush stains all the way down his neck, but minuscule giggles also fall from him in retaliation to yours. His great arms wrap themselves around your waist, dragging you slightly closer as he breathes deeply. 

Your scent pulls him under like a ship at the water, riding great waves with sea beasts under the waves guiding the vessel along its course. 

“Everyone’s small compared to you.” Your mumbling in his shoulder makes his grip tighten, side-eyeing your visage as his head tilts down. “Not my fault you got every gene that made you sprout like a damn tree.”

With your lips caressing his neck, he blinks softly down at you, amused, as his breath mingles with your hair. He lets you speak, getting it all off your chest and feeling stupid for how he had been avoiding this.

“You’re afraid because you’re so big, then? That you might hurt me?” 

“Ja.” Your hands circle around his shoulders, and with a sigh that leaves the man short of breath, you shimmy back and face him, fingers playing with the base of his neck; pulling at tiny hairs. 

“Don’t you think being worried about that means something? And, c’mon,” you smile lightly to him, and he watches closely, fingers moving along your spine. “With how conscious you are of your body, it’s hard to imagine anything ever happening.”

Hands grasp his neck, and with a bobbing Adam’s apple, König yields to your pull, angling his head to you as your back straightens. Watching with awe; your silhouette bathed in silver light and eyes fatigued, though never more beautiful. You’re beaming.

“I’ve never felt safer than when I’m with you, okay? So stop worrying about it, you big dope – and stop ditching me!” The Austrian’s dark eyes are fastly moved from one spot on your face to another, cataloging every bump and pore to memory. 

He’d never been this close to you before, though he’d fantasized about it. And what you were telling him…it’s like his body deflates with relief, and a genuine, boyish, smile blossoms. 

“Safe? W-with me, Bӓrchen? Oh-oh, my…” A kiss suddenly hits his forehead, and if you continued doing things like this, he was sure he’d explode. His body was vibrating with pure bashfulness; it was so odd to be complimented and doted on by someone that wasn’t his close family. For someone to reassure him of his flawed concerns. 

She feels safe with me. 

How could he tell you how happy that made him to hear aloud?

“Hey,” hands cup his jaw, and his spaced-out eyes snap back to you instantly, blinking away the rose-colored fog. You shake his head back and forth until he’s chuckling, like a kid again, and his grip catches your wrists to make you stop. Your breath fans over his blazing cheeks like a wind sent from Zephyrus himself, and the sticking clothes to his body matter little. “No more leaving me hanging, okay? I miss you, König. I want to be around you.” 

The eyes that travel down his scarred and freckled face leave him slightly self-conscious, but as if sensing this, your lips curve. Before he could utter a grunt of surprise, your kiss had connected with the scar on his forehead, as well as the palate. Just brushing the top of his lips as his large nose poked your cheek. 

“Mein Gott.” König gasps, eyes fluttering shut when you pull back and a grin slashes your face. A whisper meets the room.

“Thank you for showing me your handsome face, mein Schöner, I’ve been wondering what you looked like.” Shyly scanning his features, the redhead lets your fingers trace his flesh, shivers left in their wake, and a soft sigh. 

If he opens his eyes, he’s afraid he’d start crying. So he lets you touch his scarlet flesh, nearly the same shade as his hair, though the auburn is more deep-set. Shivering every time you lay another press of your lips to a blemish; more addictive than drugs. 

“You’re going to kill me,” König pleads, “but if this is punishment for causing you pain, I will gladly bear it.”

“Sly.” You smirk, pressing one more peck to his nose, and pulling back. He grumbles in his throat before his eyes peel open slowly; pupils blown wide and mouth parted. “Are you alive down there?”

“Barely. Perhaps I’ll need another kiss to tell, yes?” 

“You’re horrible.” Looking at his clothes, your eyes suddenly go grim. Like you’d just noticed the state of him now that he was kneeling in front of you and struck by your beauty. “And shivering.” You huff. “Why didn’t you start by saying you were soaked to the bone, König?” 

He looks to the ground, and you try to shuffle past and grab him a towel, but his arms trap you. You find yourself in a chest faster than you can blink, hands splayed over a pec that jerks as you’re lifted up. 

König hears you squeak and laughs, throwing you up into a bridal-style hold easily. Laughing chest-deep, you curl under his chin and quickly comment, “what are you doing?!” 

“Hush, Bӓrchen,” the man squishes you closer, “I’ll find a towel, don’t strain yourself.” 

You direct him to the bathroom after he sets you on your bed, hearing the pounding of rain outside as he sneaks off. 

The room smells of your shampoo, and König takes a pastel towel from the wrack after half-closing the door, slapping it to his head and violently rubbing it back and forth. Lost in his elevated thoughts and happy demeanor, the knock on the wood is almost missed. He’s just about to take off his shirt and wring it out when he blinks at the sound. 

“König – I’ve got some spare clothes, but I doubt they’ll fit you well enough.” An amused twitch of his lips later, he’s opening the door to your soft face, staring down at it. Standing shyly, your eyes crease; head tilting. “Sleepover?”

The man looks at the pile of fabric and nods kindly, a lofty feeling in his bones.

“Yes, please. They’re perfect, vielen Dank.” It isn’t long before he’s coming back out, a shirt that barely fits over his wide chest and a pair of sweats clinging to his hips. But he didn’t mind. 

They smelled like you, and thus, he smelled like you. König quickly found out that drawing wasn’t the only thing that could calm him. 

An embarrassed smile and a sheen of giddiness never leave his face.

He slides into bed with you, and you quickly latch under his arm, limbs tangling with his own as his fingers twitch over the width of the base of your shoulder blades. An easy expulsion of air leaves him as your weight settles, back curving to the make of the mattress. 

The words leave him in the delicate silence; water hitting the window and during the exploration of souls. Cheeks hot and heart hammering. 

“Sei mein?” Be mine? 

He feels your grin, nose nuzzling his flesh like it was the perfect pillow, and his heart speeds like a shooting star.

“Mein Herz war immer deins. Ja.” My heart was always yours. Yes. 

He stays awake for a long while, listening to your breathing and staring at the ceiling, running knuckles over your spine and staying silent. 

Smiling.  

#konig #konig x reader #konig modern warfare #konig fluff #cod konig #modern warfare 2 #call of duty #mw2 #mw2 fanfic #mw2 x reader #cod mw22 #cod x you #cod x reader #cod #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #x fem!reader #x female reader #cod mw fanfiction #cod fandom #cod fanfic #mw x reader #modern warfare #konig x you

[emilio-the-dumb-wrestler]

prison break::: time served

For @sdonovan91

“That thing is hideous Derrick. Why do you insist on having that on your desk.?” Brenda the secretary was always creeped out by stuff like this. Derrick thought the little totem dude was cool. That’s why he kept it on his desk. It always struck up a good convo with the clientele he served. Derrick was a criminal defense attorney. It was obvious to him at the start of law that he wanted to represent people who would be considered low life’s. He had a sense of jealousy for them. He was always pushed to be the best. Good grades. Always stay out of trouble. Never do anything out of line. And his clients mesmerized him. Most not even making it out high school before they dropped out. Working low wage jobs. Making bad decisions based on that. Everything was so enchanting about them. Which is why his totem always brought up good conversation. He’s been told so many times by several of them how “kewl” it looked and how they needed a little guy like that followed by the “huhu”. Each time causing Derrick to get hard instantly and having to hide his excitement from his clients. And the things they would tell him only made his job even better. Personal things even. Things that you wouldn’t tell someone normally.

Today he was meeting with Rex. Literally. Seeing the man’s name on the file Derrick could t help but think about what kind of man he was going to meet. And his name was hyphenated. T-Rex. Derick leaned back in his chair hands on his head. “Dear lord this one sounds like a character. Who names their kid this !” Reading over the info he seen the man was 24. High school drop out. Construction crew working but found guilty of possession. That was usual stuff for Derrick to see. Scanning over the chart he bust out laughing. “His name is Theodore Rex!!” It wasn’t long before Brenda came over the speaker in his office telling him that mr Rex was there to see. Derrick was so excited. He couldn’t wait to see what he was going to be dealing with. “Send him in !!”

Derrick was not prepared for what he was greeted with.

Rex walked through the door with a cigarette in his mouth. Wearing his work gear. Dirty. Smelly. Perfect. He took a seat in front of derricks desk. A seat that was in front of window that showed the trees outside. Rex adjust himself in the seat and you could hear his heavy booted feet moving around. And smell them too. “Well Rex. I’m gonna be your lawyer. and the first thing I’ll have to mention to you is you can’t smoke in”. Rex looked a little blank and then giggled. “Man I forgot where I’s at” and he put the cigarette out on the chair arm. Singeing the fibers. Melting them. The sme of burn fibers rose in the air. Jesus he’s amazing— derrick thought to himself. “Rex I’ve reviewed your case. This is a small drug charge this time. But the issue is your record. You’ve been In Jail several times and this time they are going to want the max penalty for you. It looks like they are wanting 5 years on ya. But I managed to talk them down to a year. But you’d have to go through probation . Again for the remaining 4. “. Rex slouched in his chair. “Man I caint be doing that ! If I got back In they make me take all my piercings out. And this one just healed up!” Rex said grabbing his crotch and giving it a firm shake. “Fuck dude why I gotta be the one that always gets caught !” He leaned over and held his head in his hands. “Damn bro. Caint ya get something better !?” When he shook himself like that Derrick practically came on himself right there hut he managed to contained his composure. “I’m sorry Rex that is the best agreement I could get from them. You have to report to the jail house for processing by tomorrow afternoon.” Rex let out a loud sigh. “This is so unfair. And right when I’s getting my life back on track ! I even gots a good job this time!” He leaned back in the chair rubbing his stomach. “I hate jail. The food sucks.” Derrick was edging right now. Rex was going to have to leave soon or else he was going to lose it on this simple hot soul. Derrick envied this man so much. All his choices placing him once again in jail. With no way to fight it ! “Well Rex if I could serve the time for you I would. But I’m sorry. This is the best I could do”. Rex exhaled. “Yeah bro I know. It just me making dumb choices all my life. I wish i didn’t make all these stupid choices landing me here.” Huhu he chuckled dumbly. “Hell I wish I could be lawyer for once making good money”. He got up from the seat. This time Derrick could hear a noticeable clinking from the man’s crotch as the piercings jingled slightly. “I have to go let mah boss know wuts happening. He ain’t gonna be thrilled. But I guess it ain’t matter now considering I got a year to deal with. Thanks tho man”. He said as he reached out his hand to shake it with Derrick. Derrick shook the man’s touch callused hand. It was a working man’s hand. He could almost feel every groove in Rex’s hand while is made contact with his own soft hand. Derrick walked rex out of the office. Not even noticing that his totems eyes were joe glowing red. And soon faded back to normal when Derrick was back at his desk.

Derrick finished up his work day and went home. In his apartment he finally let lose. He couldn’t contain it any more and started getting off to Rex. He brought the man file home so he could read it over again. Looking all the horrible choices this simple man made. He even had to keep himself from dripping the sweet sex all over the file when he was reading about how Rex had failed a dui screening and even told the cop “cum on bro it was only 7 beers !” Everything this man had to himself to end up where he was make Derrick so jealous. He fell asleep on his couch. The mornin and Derrick was woken by a rooster right outside his window. That’s weird. He didn’t have farm animals living In the city. He sat up right and the fold away bed collapsed with him. His knees were in his face and he noticed immediately something was off. He could smell something was off. His surroundings had changed from luxury to cheap and wood paneled. He smelled of Bo. Feet. And he could smell marijuana. What the hell was going on ?! He stumbled to what he could tell was a make shift bathroom across the hall and was shocked. Standing there. Looking right at himself in the mirror. Was Theodore Rex. Smelly. Pierced. Tattooed. He stumbled backwards falling into the shower hearing the clanking nose come from his groin. He panicked. What was going on? Everything was different. He was standing alone In a run down bathroom of an old trailer. The place looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in years. And his head was throbbing as he could he was coming down from what would be considered a high. Looking in the mirror again he began to scream. Pulling at his face. At his piercings. At his dick. Everything was wrong ! He was a lawyer. Not some low life names trex! When he tugged at his crotch he could feel the modification which sent shivers of pleasure up his body. And before he even realized it a thick heavy load came out landing on his foot. He tried to get water from the sink but none of the faucets worked !! He stumbled back to the smelly room. Whiping his foot with shah he found out was his only pair of socks. Dirty and crusty already from all the times being worn. He couldn’t live like this !

Derrick found a pair of ripped jeans but no shirts to wear. Even thought he didn’t want to he put on the socks as he couldn’t care the smell of his feet any longer. And out on the heavy work boots shah Rex was wearing just the day before. Still moist from the previous day of work. There was no deodorant in the trailer. And no running water for him to clean himself! He was literally a walking piece of trash. There was a loud bang at the door. He stumbled to it and when he opened it police where there. They drew they noses back from the smell of him. “We came to pick you up since you didn’t report as you were told !” He was pulled out of the small trailer. And handcuffed. The cops argued over who would transport him from the stench being so bad. Derrick tried to argue with them. He wasn’t the man they were looking for ! “That’s it. We are going to charge you with resisting arrest just for this !” Wut. Derrick had never committed a crime in his life !! He tried to argue with legal jargon but all that was like a foreign language to him now. As soon as he thought of it the information quickly left his dimming brain.

————

A month passed and Derrick was told he had a visitor. He had tried finding anyway possible to prove that he was not Rex but all was a failure. In the visitation room he stopped in his tracks. Right there at the table waiting to speak to him was his own body ! He sat down. Shackles clinking with his hand cuffs. “Hey Derrick. I see you’ve been doing… well?” Derrick was shocked. This must be “Rex is that you ?” Rex responded telling him yes. He told him how he work up in his body that night a month ago and was shocked. He told him how he was afraid to leave his apartment for a few days. But then he mustered up the courage to go to the office. And that’s when he was able to teach himself law. In one month! “You’re a really smart man Derrick ! I was able to learn so much stuff. I wanted to check on you. It seems like we got what we wanted. I’m now the lawyer with no criminal record. And you’re getting to serve my time. Ain’t that so kewel!! Wait …no…. That is so cool. You see I am a faster learner now haha”. Derrick was shocked. “Rex you have yo fix this ! I can’t be in here. I’m not supposed to be in here ! “. Rex just laughed at him in his own body. “Actually REX. You are supposed to be in here. You REX are a criminal. Just look at you. You look like. You have the finger prints of one. Hell…you even smell like one too. I just wanted to come by and see you. I won’t be coming back. When you get out in a year MAYBE we can meet up and figure this out. But I have no intention of going back to that body for at least 5 more years.” And with that he stood up and walked to the door to leave. He stopped by the guard on the way out. “Can you have him bathe. He smells like he got athletes foot or something. He so smelly !” The guard just chuckled and told him how they had him bathe every day. But still the smell remained. It remained on HIS criminal body !

Derrick was escorted back to his cell. Trapped in his new existence. Trapped as a criminal. He now has everything he ever envied of his clients. He had become the very thing he found erotic. He hates to admit it. When Rex told him he wasn’t going back for at least 5 years it make his own cock spring to life. He hid in his cell and released his excitement all over his dirty feet. Getting to the idea of being stuck in the body of T-Rex was so disgusting and humiliating to him. But he couldn’t help but love every minute of how he was being forced to be like this. He was getting dumber by the day. More violent outbursts. Using grammar incorrectly. And every day it turned him on more. In the end though At least now he had running water.

November 22nd, 2021 1:11pm male transformation prison break

[talknerdytome18]

𝙷𝚂𝙼𝚃𝙼𝚃𝚂 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝙽𝚎𝚠𝚜𝚒𝚎𝚜 ✨ 📰

In honour of Newsies being the musical done in Love, East High, I have decided to cast the characters in this show.

This cast list will only be using characters who haven't graduated so sorry EJ (still love ya)

Seb Matthew-Smith as Jack Kelly: JOE SERAFINI WOULD SLAY SANTA FE. Don't debate me on this casting choice because I personally believe that any role Jeremy Jordan has played should be played by Joe Serafini.

Ashlyn Caswell as Katherine Plumber: She's witty and values hard work. Julia Lester already has impeccable comedic timing and would nail Watch What Happens.

Ricky Bowen as Davey Jacobs: If Ricky can't play Jack, then he's playing Davey. Ricky's quite passionate like Davey and is always supportive towards his friends.

Big Red as Crutchie: THIS WOULD BE SO CUTE! He has the innocent charm like Crutchie and would bring everyone to tears with his rendition of Letter to the Refuge.

Kourtney Greene as Medda Larkin: THE ONLY PERSON WHO WOULD NAIL THAT'S RICH IS MISS KOURTNEY GREENE HERSELF. Kourtney has such a lively presence that is needed for Medda and is quite selfless like Medda.

Emmy as Les Jacobs: Gender swapped Les Jacobs is a must! Emmy is quite fearless and hilarious like Les. She's also the only character who is in the age range to play Les so yeah... also, Ricky and Emmy friendship since they'll be playing siblings.

Jet as Pulitzer: Hear me out? Jet has already played a villain before (Hans) and I think he would absolutely pull off Pulitzer. His rendition of Bottom Line would dominate the charts (literally).

Carlos Rodriguez as Racetrack: I'M DYING I'M DECEASED YES. The comedic timing would be IMPECCABLE and Carlos would have so much fun choreographing King of New York. NOT TO MENTION THE DANCING? He is one of the strongest dancers as according to his character... Racetrack is the perfect role for him in terms of comedic timing and dancing.

Gina Porter as Spot Conlon/Ensemble: Small role, but I don't really see Gina playing Katherine or Medda (However, she is playing Katherine in Love, East High). Gina does come off as quite intimidating like Spot at first but is later revealed to care about the people around her.

Mack Alana as Theodore Roosevelt: I don't know what to do with him lol. Besides, I don't think he'll want a big role since he's trying to get Mark & Spark rebooted anyways lol.

Dani as Hannah: Her acting skills need work so Hannah's a small enough role for her to work on her acting skills.

#hsmtmts #jet hsmtmts #gina porter #seb matthew smith #carlos rodriguez #newsies #ricky bowen #dani hsmtmts #ashlyn caswell #big red redonovich #kourtney greene #mack hsmtmts

[aeoki]

Tri-Lights - Wheel of Fortune: Chapter 4

Location: Yumenosaki Tennis Court Characters: Sora, Natsume, Tsumugi & Madara

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ< Thirty minutes later. >

Madara: ♪~♪~

Alright, here comes the next serve. Take that…!

Tsumugi: ………!

Natsume: A service aCE…!

Tsumugi: We couldn’t move an inch. As expected of Mikejima-kun – his athletic abilities are off the charts.

Natsume: Is that what you should be saying right nOW? His serves are so strong we haven’t even gotten one point off him, you knOW?

I think the sun will set before we can rescue Sora at this poiNT. You were the one who accepted the battLE, so you need to put more back into iT.

Tsumugi: I–I know… But I didn’t think Mikejima-kun was this strong. I just thought he was just slightly good at sports.

I’ve seen Mikejima-kun help out a lot of units, but who would have thought he’d be this good at tennis?

Natsume: That’s an overly optimistic outloOK… He’s skilled enough to help other units so it wouldn’t be strange to think that he’d be good at tennis too, rigHT?

Madara: Hahaha! Is this a fallout?

You need to cooperate with each other when you’re playing doubles. Surely, you don’t think you can win with just fighting spirit alone?

Natsume: Fighting instinct and cooperation or whatevER… you’re talking about too many different thinGS…!

Madara: Hehehe. You’ve gotten more fired up, Natsume-san ♪ You’re heading in the right direction ♪

On the other hand, Tsumugi-san, you’re still so calm. Maybe I should say you’re cautious instead.

You two don’t look like you’re trying to win – Are you really okay with how things are?

Tsumugi: T–That’s what we’re trying to do…

But I’m not good at showing vigour.

It feels like you’re playing tennis with us out of goodwill, so I can’t feel a sense of urgency.

Madara: Hmm, goodwill, huh… You trust me too much, Tsumugi-san.

Sora-san, could you get Tsumugi-san motivated?

Sora: Well, Sora does want Master and Senpai to work a bit harder~

So Sora wants to see you two work together to beat “Mr Giant”!

Otherwise, Sora would think that’s all our relationship amounted to and would feel sad.

Master, Senpai – Sora believes that you can make up for what you’re lacking in skill by working together!

Madara: The outcome of this tennis game can even affect the unit relationship, huh. Yup, that’s a good way to motivate someone ♪

It’s true “Switch” can’t be called “Switch” if Sora-san isn’t there.

But Sora-san would be put in a tough spot if his two seniors can’t work together.

Tsumugi: I–I’m sorry. Sora-kun, you must be feeling anxious because the game is way too one-sided, right?

Can we take a small break? I’ll discuss things with Natsume-kun and see what we can do.

It’s time to strategise… You’re okay with that too, right, Natsume-kun?

Natsume: Of courSE. We have our pride as weLL.

This may be a battle that’s out of our league but we have to aim for victory now that we’ve accepted iT.

Tsumugi: Thank you. I’m an amateur in all this but this is what I suggest.

First, we should keep the same formation with me in the back and…

Sora: HaHa~♪ Their “colours” have gotten more fired up ♪ I think you might have a hard time, “Mr Giant”~

Madara: Yeah. Tennis is a sport where a larger number of players is more advantageous, after all.

Hehe. It seems things have finally kicked into gear. Even someone like me without synesthesia can tell that their will to fight is starting to show.

Is this what you wanted, Sora-san? Is this closer to the image you had of a sporty “Switch”?

Sora: Yes. This is fine. Probably.

Both Master and Senpai are far too kind-hearted, so Sora is certain that “that’s” the part missing from the sporty “Switch”~

Sora doesn’t know about the past but Sora thinks the past Master and Senpai had gotten tired from all the fighting.

They didn’t want anyone to be hurt anymore, so they became “magicians – witches” who would save unhappy people. That’s what Sora thinks when Sora looks at the current Master.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂  Next Chapter →

#tri-lights

[bonefall]

Aaaa hc’s sorry I’ve just been thinking about these for the past week. This is how I’m gonna write the characters in my rewrite lol totally not projecting on any of these especially not Squilf haha

Leafpool is autistic but she instead holds eye contact so strongly that it kinda freaks people out, but she does it so she can really pick up on the social cues. When stressed she just starts organizing things and the healer den is always incredibly tidy when she’s in there. But if anyone messes with her herbs, moves them around or doesn’t tidy them back up properly she’ll have a minor meltdown and goes on a cleaning spree to fix it all back up. Noises really bother her as well, at gatherings she always has to put two little moss balls in her ears to muffle the noise enough. Not very social and can’t hold relationships that well but when she does have her people around (her family, mothwing lol) she’s like empowered and so much happier.

Squirrelflight has both autism and adhd but none of her traits got picked up so she’s struggling a lot bc her society holds her to the same degree as everyone else. She cannot hold eye contact for the life of her and is constantly have so many thoughts that she gets overwhelmed incredibly easy. But she’s so good at masking her meltdowns and stress that it’s all internal. Like her sister she’s also pretty bad with social cues unless she’s expressly focused on the person speaking to her. She can make many small relationships but has a hard time keeping them, sometimes just forgetting cats exist which she hates. Almost always on a energy high or a crash and has to sleep a lot because of this but she also has insomnia because she thinks so much so she usually can’t. While her sister finds control in ordering herbs she finds it sorting patrols and such and it’s her favorite part of her routine everyday. If interrupted or messed up she meltdowns and has to go to the woods to calm herself down, or to her sister for help.

Sandstorm has adhd. Less thought about this one but she’s very passionate and emotional. She’s even more energetic then her daughter as a apprentice and always went on dawn patrol to get her energy out. Has a lot of hard time focusing and can get a little tunnel visioned on tasks. From finding she’s good at hunting it’s always her favorite thing to do and finds the most comfort in it.

ADHD Squirrelflight is SO real I can feel it. It also probably what makes her so good at setting up patrols and making every member of the clan feel important; she's always considering the strengths and weaknesses of the cats in front of her who clearly don't have a task to do.

I would love to see her create memory aids for herself, like carving reminders into the walls of her den. I have a corkboard on my desk and it helped a lot when I needed it, it would be super cool if she had a sort of Warrior Cat Compliant chart she used to remember everything.

She could even have little figurines for each member of the clan! Like a thorn is for Thornclaw, a really brightly colored rock is Brightheart.

(My ThunderClan Scourge AU brainrot is informing me that he made an actual small statue of himself for her to use; I see him as a craftsman, as many BloodClan cats were.)

Sandy and Leaf are perfect no notes

You know who else is nd? Bluestar. That woman is autistic, and I'm correct about this.

#Warrior cats headcannons #Bluestar #Squirrelflight #Leafpool #Sandstorm #Autism #ADHD #Neurodivergence

[ez-cookie]

Hi cookie, you’re my favorite author ever! I started writing recently and wanted to ask for your advice. Basically I’ve gotten pretty good at writing outlines for what seem like long-ish plotlines. However when I go to write, I’m always surprised that my fic is like max 10k words. Makes me wonder if my pacing is off.

Do you have any advice on how to write longer fics?

Hi! Sorry for the late response, anon!

It's hard to know exactly what advice to give abstractly when trying to make your writing longer, but I remember I had this same problem when I started writing fic many years ago.

I would say if it feels like your writing overall moves too fast, I'd start by reading a few of your paragraphs in isolation, then stepping back and thinking about what each one accomplishes. How fast are you moving? How often to you stop to describe the setting, or an emotion, or a moment in time?

When making your outline, I'd try adding more information in between plot points so you can chart other things as well. How is the main character feeling at the beginning of the story vs the middle vs the end? What changes have occurred that might effect the mood of the characters?

Thinking about what's going on internally as well as externally should help a lot with fleshing out your prose and increasing your word count.

Lastly, I'll leave you with a small piece of wisdom. I think it's largely agreed that shorter writing is often more entertaining, thought-provoking and easy to read, "brevity is the soul of wit" and all that. Most writers spend their time learning to trim the fat on their stories (god knows I need to practice that!).

More than anything, don't beat yourself up trying to drag out scenes and add filler, especially if its more to hit a word count goal than it is to have fun. I'm a firm believer that if an author is bored writing something, the audience will be bored reading it, so I'd advise you to start with a scene that's vivid in your mind, explore every angle of it in your prose, and then see how you feel about what you wrote.

Thanks so much for your message, and I hope that something in my rambling resembled some helpful advice!

#asks

[xolborsaysstuff]

Blinded by trust and injury | EYE! Phone AU part 7

"...What does that mean? "

Both the objects stared at him in shock.

"Do you really not remember?" Test tube asked, he shrugged as if this wasn't shocking.

"Why? Was- wa- was it something im- important?" He asked, slightly nervous now.

Lightbulb was about to respond, but Test tube covered her mouth, pointing at Mephone, then at the corner. She then addressed mephone.

"I think it's best to postpone these tests. Me and Lightbulb just need to do one more thing then you'll be free to go, I promise." She said, feeling guilt as a small but hopeful smile appeared on his cracked screen. She dragged Lightbulb over to the corner.

"Listen, I don't think we should talk to Mephone about this yet. He's already unstable as it is, and adding unnecessary pressure is too dangerous, who knows how he would react?" She whispered, glancing back at the blind object who was sitting where they had left him, gently swinging his legs back and forth when he thought he was alone, playing with a sort of towel like thing in his hands.

Lightbulb mumbled something under Test tube's hand, then pulled her off. She placed a hand on the scientist's shoulder. "don't worry, Test tube. your secret is safe with me." Test tube sighed I. relief, though it was short lived as she looked back at the damaged phone.

"Alright, Lightbulb, I need you to distract Mephone. I have a plan."

Her bright companion nodded, walking over to Mephone. And Test tube for to work.

------

When Test tube had finished the device, she turned back to both the electric objects. Lightbulb was currently tying what looked to be a pride flag over Mephone's eyes.

"Alright Mephone, we're almost done here but could you hold out your arm real quick?" Mephone complied, and Test tube wrapped the device around his upper arm. It had the appearance of a blood pressure gauze with a screen showing charts for each of Mephone's limbs and even a small silhouette of mephone coloured cyan, with a black wobbly line across where his eyes would be.

"This is a device I made to keep track of your physical health! It can also contact me, and is voice activated, even with your stutter it'll be able to pick up on what you want fairly easily." Test tube said, a little proud of herself, and Mephone's excited expression wasn't helping.

As she explained what to say to ask for certain things, ( 'Device call ___' to call, 'device end call' to end a conversation, 'device silence mode', ect, ect.) She failed to mention that it would also monitor to see if he was stressed out, and she had also failed to mention the tracking device she had added, though in her defence he would likely take it off if he knew.

"Alright," Test tube said finally. " now with that out of the way, are you ready to finally go outside? " She asked, and he grinned excitedly. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's go!" Light bulb said, walking to the exit. Test tube grabbed onto Mephone's hand. "You ready?" "Of- of- cour- cour- course!" He said.

" Then let's go. " she said, walking towards the exit with him. She still couldn't shake all the worry she had. She had so many questions, but the main was... Why did Mephone forget that word of all things?

Why didn't he remember cobs?

----

Forgot to add this part cause I had to post this as soon as possible because it kept repeatedly clutching and getting deleted which was angering me so much I started around 3 it is now 5:50 also sorry about not posting, busy few days lol. Anyways, hope you enjoyed! Have a nice day, gendered and ungendered people alike!📳

Edit: lot shorter reading it than writing it, so weird.

Omg it is so hard to wrote Test tube I love her but I cannot write smart characters it hurts my brain owie /j

#ii mephone4 #test tube ii #ii contestants #inanimate insanity #eye phone au #lightbulb ii #TW warning eye trauma

[fangaminghell]

I mentioned before that before becoming and official couple and before their fight, Arrow and Ryland kissed once in the ruins and never brought it up again. It was short, very sweet and very nice. It could have gone longer if they didn't get distracted and went full " Team Bladestar" mode for one reason or another.

But the only thing that I've been debating on my head is who started it. Obviously, both wanted something, the romantic tension was getting high. But looking back to how I wrote that argument they had, I think it was Arrow. Which is interesting given how I see their character. Most of the time, Arrow has to work by logic. This isn't a bad thing. Weighing pros and cons, looking for a logical solution is always good and dande. But they are also the type to charge in based on their emotions. I've shown many times that Arrow can be very emotional, despite their RBF ( they get it from their mom lol).

So logically, kissing Ryland is a very bad idea. At the time Arrow wasn't sure if they wanted to be in a relationship, and kissing someone unprompted ( something they deeply apologized for later) is a no-no for them. Not to mention starting a romantic relationship with your co-worker/ boss. It was completely unprofessional.

But emotionally, Arrow is falling and they're falling hard. And the tension between them was getting too much. So being placed together on a mission in the quietness of the ruins of their home, Arrowing knowing that Ryland is stealing some small glances at them , and just wanting to shoot their shot kinda won the battle here.

So knowing all of that, their fight right before Arrow left Team Bladestar hurts even more now, especially when you look at Ryland's perspective. The person you like kissed you, and you're over the moon, but then they don't talk about it. And you're confused and want to talk about it but you also don't so you keep quiet about it as well. The tension builds up once again on an unspoken truth and it's killing you, but there's more important matters than silly romance at play. So you two fall back into your old routine. Until that routine was broken by the same person that kissed you. The feeling of betrayal, the idea that everything up to now was just Arrow playing a little game with them before getting bored- yeah that would hurt. Again, Arrow was the one that kissed him. They kissed him. And all of the sudden they are going to leave like it doesn't matter?! Ryland's rage and sorrow was off the charts.

So, uh, yeah, that was a semi character analysis and a half. Sorry for bombarding y'all with dumb romance 😅

#oc: arrow 🪶

[legionofpotatoes]

700 hours is 29 days (+ a couple hours). Just as a thought experiment, do you think Zagreus himself would be able to achieve all that he sets out to do in Hades within that same timeframe (making all of his escape attempts, building relationships, honing his skills, collecting valuables, redecorating the entire House for the hell of it, etc.) or do you think he'd spend more/less time?

Personally, I feel like he's skilled and determined enough to maybe do it faster, but I could also see it taking much longer, maybe months, considering his journey is its own "mythological trial" and even the most stubborn of people tend to slow down and let doubt take hold (even if only temporarily)

I will try not to get distracted.

I think your question is organically answered by the individual canon of the game itself, per player? I really believe it's as simple as that! It would be however many attempts you took. The gameplay loop keys us into the physical struggle, while the per-death progression of the story unravels Zag's internal change in however long it takes us to reach those crucial milestones. That's I think one of the (many) pro-ludonarrative masterstrokes in its game design; you sort-of chart the canon timeline of that effort literally by hand, and it all conforms to your specific playthrough in the end.

Which then makes it difficult to measure how Zag "himself" would do it since it's? us? There is no framework of that game's form-and-function synergy that excludes player perspective. His engine of internal change is gated by physical milestones, and those are in turn tied to player skill/determination, who then in turn engage with a progression system with so much potential variation that it becomes impossible to really parse that into an isolated character arc in a logical way. Am I making sense? 😬 sorry if I'm blowing this out of proportion, but your question is such an interesting one lmao.

But I also think you're ultimately right in lending it a read through a mythic lens, rather than a purely logical one; if this were a linear and finite narrative with greek dramatic overtones, it would certainly allude to labors, cycles of futility, and really-really hard-earned catharsis. It's a somewhat straightfoward hero's journey all-in-all; resisting responsibility, finding purpose outta nowhere, and then through that purpose accepting the responsibility, yada-yada.

In that read, to me Zagreus feels like a small, seemingly insignificant cog in the House of Hades, struggling against personal duties, the bureaucratic whims of hell itself, and the post-traumatic abuse from his dad. He's a lonely kid rebelling against a world without his mom. Personally, I love the idea that it takes him eons. Just fucking ages. Dying hundreds of times per chamber, creating his own sisyphean torture of apathy, never really believing he can escape but keeping that north star of Persephone as a motivator to just keep trying. That becomes the kernel of his personhood that allows all of his growth and change to occur; the persistence is the key, and the game drops that key squarely into the player's laps. We get to be this kid's nagging persistence that finally, finally allows him to win.

The fact that the game then opens him up to an entirely new path of healing, once he does find his mom, is just such a. I don't even know. It's like the game is still responding to the meta of our relationship to its infinitely looping gameplay system; it will engineer a functional combat-based struggle that is eternal, yes, but will bombard us with story-level catharses the more we choose to engage with it. Eventually it will turn the entire premise on its head and settle into an idyllic vignette of a functional family and a kid that chooses to go to school and clean his room and take care of the house and enjoy it all cause his mom and dad are happy at home and his friends are on good and healthy terms with him and he's finally content.

It's like they gave us a meaningful story and bolted on a massive fix-it fic on its ass for good measure. They looked at the very DNA of roguelike narrative potential and just went for fucking all of it. What a game.

Anyway, I got distracted. Did that answer your question?

#i am simply incapable of being normal about hades. sorry nonnie. I am incapable! #anon #asks #hades #long post

[blightbear]

Hello there!

What about number 8, 19 and 25 for all (or some of your choice!) of your blorbos? :3

Hi hi!! I’m sorry, I didn’t see this until a little bit ago and it took me forever to think on 19. There’s still a lot I want to chew on with that question haha

I’m going to put 19 and 25 undercut so this isn’t so long

8. How does your character feel about religion?

Ashari:

Ashari is more in the agnostic category. Believes there is some power out there but not necessarily the Maker or the Creators. In her mind, if the Maker was real, he must be some grand comedian for the suffering people live through while others get to live the high life.

Faye:

Andradtian through and through. Now, do they agree with the chantry and their practices? Hell no. They aren’t Sebastian. Faye will pray, sing the chant, do the bare minimum. They still believe but use it to guide themselves, not others.

Mori’na:

It’s…complicated. Before, she’d say she fully believes in the Creators, do all the rituals and participate in all the festivities. She felt a deep connection with keeping that alive. She still has a small altar to pray to. Yet, after Solas, the thing with Flemeth/Mythal, and the events at the well kind of crushed all of that. She wants to believe some form of the Creators still existed, that the elves calling themselves gods were just basing it off of something already there, but in the back of their mind she knows it to not be true.

One thing is true though. Fuck the chantry.

I’m gonna add Cyra for this one too:

Absolutely crazy about it, fully believes in the Maker, Andraste, everything the chantry says. It’s her driving force.

19. What were your character’s deepest disillusions? In life? What are they now?

Ashari:

Ashari fully believed her life could be one of simplicity. Get married, go on the road selling paintings, come back, raise some kids, help Shianni demand better for the Alienage. Simple. This isn’t to say she doesn’t realize the oppression that her people face growing up, it angers her to no end. Ashari just thought the outside world was slightly better, that she could make a living. Obviously, not the case, quickly shattered by the events at the Arl’s estate. Fights tooth and nail to demand respect. Thought that taking in all the responsibility she did at the age of 20 would be easy. Very wrong about that.

Faye:

That their family could survive, live a normal life eventually. That they could protect them, protect everyone. Obviously didn’t happen.

Mori’na:

I mean, going back to the religion question, she does become quite disillusioned by it all. The Creators were a purpose, something to believe and have faith in. Now she doesn’t know what to believe anymore, and all those years the Chantry was chipping away at the psyche only wore on it more. She thought she could make a difference, make the world better for her people and get respect for their faith and values but now she’s just trying to survive.

25. What are their hobbies and interests?

Ashari:

Painting and drawing! Sketching out things helps her find her center and calm down. Of course a lot of the pages became filled with Alistair. Now, paints are rather expensive and hard to come by in the Alienage, but she found means stealing from the market stalls

Faye:

Music. Playing the lute (their mother taught them), writing and singing cheesy ballads. Makes the group cringe but they still love it.

Mori’na:

Studying all things plants and flora, flower pressing, whittling (she’s not the best at it but she tries), and star charting. I don’t talk about the latter one much but she’s looking up at that night sky quite often, and it helps with navigation. Hunter things.

#ask #ashari tabris #faye hawke #mori’na lavellan #cyra adaar #the first two there is so much to chew on there #thank you for the questions!!

[outfitandtrend]

[ad_1] Joe Locke had no idea Netflix’s Heartstopper would be such an instant hit. (It’s always hard to know how exactly many people are watching Netflix shows since the streamer doesn’t release audience numbers, but Heartstopper topped Variety’s “Trending TV” chart by a wide margin, has near-perfect Rotten Tomatoes scores, and it’s huge on gay Twitter.) Locke, who plays the lead role in the queer teen coming-of-age story, always saw it as a "little show" with “a small budget,” he explains. But "when all the buzz started coming, we're like, 'Whoa, we did not expect this.'" The series, based on a graphic novel by the British author Alice Oseman, follows the romance between Charlie Spring (Locke), who is shy and comfortable with his queer identity, and Kit Connor (Nick Nelson), a popular, straight-passing rugby player. "It's just so great that a show based on queer people, made by queer people, and has mostly queer characters has made it into the mainstream," Locke says.Heartstopper is mostly lighthearted, celebrating the fluidity of sexuality, love, and coming of age with nuance and joy. It’s also Locke’s acting debut after he was plucked from 10,000 other hopefuls in an open casting call. The 18-year-old is still finishing his studies at Ballakermeen High School on the Isle of Man (population: 85,000) off the northwest coast of England, and between finals, he talked to GQ about Heartstopper, queer representation, and falling in love.GQ: What specifically drew you to the script when you read it for the first time?Joe Locke: Alice [Oseman] has such a wonderful way of creating rich, complex characters that mean so much to people. Charlie's story is relatable for so many queer people. The second I read the script, I saw Charlie as a more introverted version of me. When I read it, I was like, "Oh my God, it's me. That's really weird."I love how the script talks about queer love, which a lot of people still don't write about. I love how unapologetic the queer love is in Heartstopper. The characters are never sorry about who they are, and they're never ashamed to be themselves. It's so empowering to see! The atmosphere on set was always happy and upbeat, and just really excited to be creating a queer story with nuance. It was such a supportive environment that shines through in the show.Courtesy of Netflix [ad_2] Source link

#FASHIONFORMEN

[missgeniality]

A Date With Destiny (m)

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11k

➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning

➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna​​ is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this!   This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy! 

When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods. 

Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning. 

Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold. 

“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity. 

“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully. 

“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.

Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.” 

“What if I wanted to do that too?”

“Can I watch?” 

“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation. 

Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.

Jake stands up, groaning. “This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?” 

“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious. 

“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.

For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well. 

You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.

Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-

Holy. Shit.

Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.

Jeon Jungkook is on your flight? 

BTS is on your flight? 

What are the odds?

Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography. 

Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.

But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.

So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger. 

BTS who? 

Biggest boyband who? 

You only listen to Frank Sinatra. 

“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.

Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”

You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally. 

“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”

His ticket shows the same characters as yours. 

Huh?

With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help. 

“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.

She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.

The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved. 

Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?

“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could. 

“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.

“No no. No trouble” He beams back. 

Aw, you are in trouble. 

As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face. 

Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true. 

Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth. 

Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.

An Angel was calling you. 

You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.

Wait...

Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you. 

“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to. 

“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”

Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all. 

Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile. 

The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously. 

“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.  

“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean. 

“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.

“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.

“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.” 

“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.

“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..” 

Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in. 

“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb. 

He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.” 

He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.  

You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.

You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told. 

During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.

A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep. 

Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began. 

He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.

But something about you made him open up.

Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.

But.

It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.

Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you. 

He wonders if you feel that way too.

Speaking of whom-

A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you. 

In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you. 

The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family. 

Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen. 

Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request. 

“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement. 

Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”

He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.” 

“Listen, I-”

“So I was think-”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.

High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.

You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck. 

As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart. 

“Hey mami, come here often?”

“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”

“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”

You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him. 

“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.

“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”

As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon. 

“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”

“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”

“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”

You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”

Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”

“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”

“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”

That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).

“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”

The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”

“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.” 

“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”

“How is that pertinent?”

“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”

“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence. 

Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”

“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.

“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”

Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car. 

Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.

Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you. 

A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him… felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that. 

But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of. 

All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far. 

So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode. 

“J-Jungkook?”

Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma. 

Y/N. In person.

He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this. 

Right?

“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”

Wrong. 

Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do. 

He forces his body to action.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall. 

Pause.

"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"

You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!" 

“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!” 

Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.

And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor. 

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”

“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”

Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so. 

But you’re not anyone else. 

He isn’t just anyone.  

Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.

The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two. 

Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.

He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours. 

Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century. 

To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind. 

Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours. 

He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.

Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.

The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation. 

“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”

“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”

“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”

“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”

“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”

She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end. 

The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”

Your expression is the visual form of a question mark. 

“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”

You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.

After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.” 

The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible. 

Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.

Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken. 

After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”

A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him. 

The elevator door opens, and people walk out. 

But that’s not where your attention is. 

You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm. 

The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.

Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.

Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.

Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad. 

Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present. 

Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.

“It’s a shoot.” 

You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”

“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” 

You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.

Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile. 

“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too. 

The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space. 

“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!” 

The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed. 

“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”

The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again. 

“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”

The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.

“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.” 

Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.

Three days. Three days before it happens again.

Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”. 

The punctuation was not vocalized. 

Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself. 

The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there? 

You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.

So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna. 

So far, no sign of him. 

This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far. 

But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode. 

And then you hear it. 

You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but. 

When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.

Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck. 

The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.

So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.

“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight. 

“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”

Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight. 

 “Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”

Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”

“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”

Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.

“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”

Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.

“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement. 

“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?

Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.

Carpe noctem it is. 

“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart. 

“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.” 

“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”

He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.

“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.

He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first. 

Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Should you go the modest route or fuck it?

Fuck it.

“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.

Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own. 

“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes.  “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”

“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”

If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.

“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.

“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.” 

If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter. 

“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.

“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?” 

“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”

Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight. 

“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.

Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger. 

The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware. 

Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer. 

Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue. 

Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.

Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).

When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”

The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”

His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”

“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”

The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch. 

You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.

“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”

You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”

He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates. 

Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?” 

“Hmmn, depends.”

He cocks a brow. “On?”

“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”

That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”

Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.

Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air. 

Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.

The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative. 

Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”

With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?” 

Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress. 

“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”

You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.

He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured. 

“On your knees.” he commands.  

Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-

Wow.

You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.

He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.

And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.

“Wanted to do that since I saw you.” 

The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.

You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on. 

You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.

“Spit for me.”

Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm. 

A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.

“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”

You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head. 

Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise. 

“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”

Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.

“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”

In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.

Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”

The last word slips out unwittingly. 

Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him. 

Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him. 

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”

Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.

“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”

Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.

Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.” 

It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over. 

You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.

The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench. 

He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening. 

“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod. 

With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum. 

Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you. 

Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him. 

“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.

Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.

“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss. 

“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair. 

How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.

Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.

“Jungkook, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt. 

“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”

Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room. 

“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”

You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom. 

He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you. 

Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention. 

“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought. 

“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret. 

Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.

It’s a good thing you like the pain.

You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.

A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch. 

“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”

You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.

Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.

“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth. 

“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way. 

He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”

“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”

Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face. 

You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-

The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.

You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.

“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”

“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”

Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs. 

“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.

His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem. 

“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-” 

“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”

“Uungh yes yes I love it!”

“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”

“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”

A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him. 

If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason. 

Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard. 

“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him. 

Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making. 

Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls. 

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”

“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat. 

He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it. 

“I’ll do this.”

A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response. 

“Go on baby, ride me.” 

The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better. 

“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.

“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!” 

“That’s fucking right, only me.” 

Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away. 

Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve. 

“Want some help?”

One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full. 

“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.

“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”

It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high. 

He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face. 

Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.

A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.

In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”

“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”

“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”

You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!” 

Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.” 

Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way. 

What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole. 

“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs. 

He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core. 

Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours. 

You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.” 

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon. 

After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart. 

A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, did the light wake you?”

The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.” 

The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness. 

“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”

Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy. 

This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance. 

He finds none. 

Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go. 

You inch closer. 

Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his. 

You let your lips convey the answer.

Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win. 

“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”

He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words. 

“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst. 

“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”

A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”

He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it. 

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.

“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows.  You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him. 

After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far. 

Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up. 

His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”

“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”

“I’m kinky like that.”

You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement. 

“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”

Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”

A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,

“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”

Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!

#bts #bangtan sonyeondan #bulletproof boy scouts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts smut #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfiction #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook smut #jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut #bts jungkook #bts jeon jungkook #bts jungkook fanfic #dom!jungkook #dom!jk #dom jk #dom jungkook

[roscgcld]

DAYDREAMING!AU || new reality

;request: rn i’m obsessed with your writing & the daydreaming!reader<33 but i also love angst so what would happen if she ended up getting really hurt protecting another student - hope that wasn’t too weird.. again, i love your writing !!

note: ahaha, i am glad that a lot of people enjoy my daydreaming!reader works; she is also one of my babies as well >< and originally i wasn't going to do this cause i had no idea on what to write - but i had managed to layout a rocky plan before i got some bursts of inspiration lol. ended up becoming too loud though ><” I am sorry for that~

pronouns: she/her

daydreaming!reader masterlist

“There is a chance that she will never wake up from this.”

Shoko gave the others in the room a concerned glance as she glanced up from her tablet, hating how silent it was besides the quiet beeping of the machines around the occupied bed. Laying in the bed was Y/N, a breathing tube carefully inserted into her mouth with the ventilator beside her being the only thing that’s keeping her oxygen levels normal. “The amount of damage she took was quite large. And even though she had managed to regulate quite a strong barrier of Curse Energy around her at all times, it wasn’t enough to brace her for the impact of her being slammed into the build.”

The mission shouldn’t have ended this way - the first and second year students were sent on a mission to deal with a few Finger Bearers that had appeared in the city due to the lack of sorcerers on duty at the time. They were under the care of a few First Grade sorcerers, all hand-picked by Yaga-sensei to ensure the safety of the kids.

However, things rarely go to plan in the jujutsu world.

Yaga-sensei sighs softly as he leans back into his seat, his eyes glancing over at his student that was clearly battling to stay alive. Guilt started to eat him from the inside out, since this was technically his fault. Sure, everyone knows that there is no way that you can go on a mission without enduring some casualties. But the fact is that this was not what he had expected for the outcome to be.. “I am going to kill them myself.”

“G-Gojo-san!” Ijichi hissed out as he glances over at the white haired shaman in the room with wide eyes, the man having been leaning against the wall opposite from the hospital bed with his arms crossed over his chest. His head was tipped forward with an almost too casual expression on his face, yet anyone can tell the barely suppressed anger that lurked underneath. An anger that was only a few moments away from exploding. “You can’t - don’t say things like that!”

“And you expect me to sit back as they failed to save the children?” Gojo asks in a loud voice, effectively squashing whatever confidence Ijichi had built up inside of him. The hand that was resting arm tightened, the veins at the back of his pale hands started to protrude out as Gojo’s anger started to show itself. “I need a good explanation on how their incompetency put our student in this state. 5 First Grades against 3 Special Grade Curses? With 7 talented students by their side and they still can’t handle it? Give me a fucking break.”

“Not everyone can be like you, Satoru.” Yaga-sensei finally mumbles out as he rests his forehead into his hand, fingers pinching at the space between his eyes tiredly. “If anything, it was my fault. I had underestimated the brains of the Finger Bearers, and because of that, all my calculations were wrong. I put retrieving the fingers over numbers. So if you want to find someone to be angry to, the blame is on me.”

The room went quiet after Yaga’s explanation, both Ijichi and Shoko sharing a caution look before casting a glance over at the blindfolded man. After a few tensed moments Gojo pushed himself off the wall and walked out of the hospital room without another word, closing the door behind him quietly; a stark contrast to his usual habit of either slamming the shoji doors too hard, or leaving it open completely.

That out of character move definitely had Shoko sighing in concern. “That idiot...I hope he’s not going to do anything stupid.” She mumbles softly before she turned back to face the young girl laying on the bed, quietly reaching over to brush her fingers through the soft strands that had fallen over Y/N sleeping face. “You better wake up soon, sweetheart...I worry that this might finally push him over the edge.”

Occupying each seat outside of the small waiting area in the infirmary were the other students; wounds bandaged, yet their anxiety was palpable in the air. They had heard what had happened, yet were sheild by the other sorcerers who had called for back-up. Last they heard of Y/N was a scream before what sounded like a building collasping. “Do you think Y/N-senpai is alright?”

Yuji was the first one who dared to break the silence, glancing up from his clenched hands before him to glance at the others. “I mean...it must have been bad, since she was charted off as soon as back up arrived.” Yuji mutters softly as he tightened his fingers together, trying to stop them from shaking. He felt awful - if only he had spared a few seconds to glance over at his senpai, maybe she wouldn’t be in the condition she’s in now. “It’s not every day you’re rushed straight to Ieiri-sensei’s office...”

“...If there is one idiot who can pull through, it’ll be her,” Maki mumbles out quietly after awhile, looking away from her kouhai to stare down at the wooden floors of the building they were in. “Even if it’s bad, she always pulls through it...there is no reason why she can’t do it this time.” She mutters softly just as a pair of footsteps came towards them, causing everyone to look up at the approaching figure. 

Gojo paused when he spotted the others, the question they wanted to ask was clear as day. And for once, Gojo wished that he was able to reassure them like he always does. For him to be able to put up the act that everything was alright, that everyone will be okay. 

But he knew that it’ll do no justice if he did. “Is she...is she alright?”

The question that fell from Yuta’s mouth was left hanging in the air for a few moments, the sliver of hope they had moments ago slowly dimming with each passing moment. Quietly Gojo slipped his hands into his pockets, his blindfolded eyes downcast; too scared to see their reactions. For once, he wished that he was not the one to break the news to the students. “Y/N-chan...might not recovery from this.”

His words sent shock waves through the students, yet he balled his fists up in his pockets to continue with what he had to say. “She hit her head too hard...and if she was not subconsciously protecting herself with Cursed Energy all the time, the impact would have caused her skull to crack in two on impact. But it still took a lot out of her person, and Shoko said that-”

The sound of a metal chair being thrown backwards echoed across the room, causing Gojo to look up just in time to see Yuta standing up with wide eyes as he hastily tried to calm his friend. “Maki, you need to calm down.” He tried to reason with the girl, who had her backed turn to the group, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her jacket. “This isn’t your fault-” Yuta tried to reason, only to pause when Maki just silently started to walk away, leaving with no more but a loud slam of the main door that echoed down the hallway once more. 

For a few moments no one said anything else, yet the first one to move was Megumi; who turned to face his sensei. “Can we visit her?” He mumbled out quietly, to which Gojo just glanced over at him with a slightly raised eyebrow. “Usually people talk to someone who is in a coma. Might jolt them awake or give them encouragement to fight harder...I am sure Y/N-senpai will get lonely if no one visited her..”

“Why not?” Gojo said after a few moments of thought, giving his students what he hope was a reassuring smile as he turns a little; nodding down the hallway. “Shoko managed to stabalise her condition. Just make sure to sanatise your hands at the door.”

Quietly the group of students followed behind their silent sensei, keeping close to one another as if they were trying to give each other comfort. The walk to the room seemed too far, the door seeming to grow further and further away from them with each step. It was if it was trying to stop them from seeing the truth; yet they didn’t stop. Yet soon they found themselves standing before the smooth door; the single grey name plaque with her name written in black resting in the silver plaque holder. “Right, here we are.”

After everyone was handed a blob of hand sanitiser and had wiped it onto their skin, the small group entered after a quiet knock to the door. “Y/N-chan, I’ve returned with the others...minus one, that is.” Gojo hummed out in delight as he made his way towards the bed, a silent gesture for the others to do the same. “You know Maki-chan though. Once she finishes beating herself up, she’ll come running back. She always does~”

Quietly the others made their way into the room, eyes scanning over the beeping machines and many wires connected to the sleeping girl. “Y/N...senpai..” Nobara mumbles out in shock, her eyes resting the ventilator; not believing that a girl that was bounding about the college earlier today now needed help to do something as simple as breathing. “No way...there is...”

A warm hand rest on the top of her head, Megumi quietly giving her a form of comfort whilst his wide eyes stared at the bed before him in shock. No one dared take a step forward, like they were standing on the other side of a fragile glass bridge that was moments away from breaking. “Y/N..”

Gojo felt the hole started to eat inside of him as he watches how his students were staring at their fellow classmate in shock. Quietly he settled down in the only seat at the corner of the room, watching from the shadows at how the others will react to seeing her in such a state. The first person to snap out of it was Yuta, who quietly places a hand on Toge’s shoulders before giving it a light squeeze. “Shall we go and say hello?” 

Quietly Yuta made his way towards the bed, only to hesitate one step away from grabbing onto her hand. He stared at the frail hand, a simple IV needle carefully taped on the back of her palm for a few moments; a clear look of uncertainty on his face. Yet he took a deep breath, and with a trembling hand, carefully took Y/N’s cold hand in his. “I...Hi, Y/N...” Yuta mumbles quietly into the hospital room, voice barely heard over the constant beeping of the heart monitor. “Sorry...we took awhile to visit...and sorry that Maki isn’t here...I am sure she’ll drop by when she is ready though.”

The only response he got was the sound of the steady beep of the heart monitor, to which he just tighten his grip ever so slightly on Y/N’s unmoving hand. He could hear the soft giggle that Y/N would let out at his words, and if he felt tears welling up in his eyes as he hears her voice bouncing around inside his head.

“It’s alright, Yuta-san! I am sure you were busy before that. And I know Maki-chan will come after you leave - but you didn’t hear that secret from me~”

The silence of the hospital room made Yuta sick to the stomach, the idea that he might never hear Y/N’s voice again started to really sink in. Her usually warm and familiar touch felt cold and lifeless, causing Yuta to carefully tuck her hand underneath her hospital blanket; as if he was trying to warm it up once more. “I...I am going to go grab her favourite stuffed animal from her room. I am sure she’d love to have something of comfort whilst she’s here...if you’ll excuse me.”

Without another word Yuta just walked out of the room quietly, Yuji being the only one turning to watch his senpai leave with a look of concern. Out of everyone Yuji was definitely the one who seemed to be able to hold himself together the most, so it was no surprise when he was the one that went next. “Yo, Y/N-senpai,” Yuji greeted quietly as he walked towards the hospital bed, easily dodging all the wires and such. After all, this wasn’t his first time visiting someone he cares for in the hospital. “Can you hear me? I hope you can - or not Fushiguro might lecture me for being loud.”

The other sorcerer couldn’t even find his voice whilst Yuji continues on; his voice soft yet soothing as he looks down at his senpai with nothing more but a soft smile. “I know you’re trying your hardest go come back to us, and you’d probably tell us that we’re not the ones to blame. That you’re a big girl now, and things like this happen all the time.” Yuji continues, the only indication to his change of mood was the slight quiver that was hard to hide. Yet Yuji continued on anyway. “I hope you know we miss you...and we’re worried sick that you’re in the state you are now. But I know that you need some time to rest up, and soon you’ll be back on your feet again, right? ‘Cause..b-because that’s how you’ve always been.”

Silence enveloped the room once more, with Yuji just not sure on what else to say to her as he stared at her pale face. The other three in the room sort of just huddled together, all of them unsure of what to say to her. They weren’t the best with emotional words - beside Toge, who usually doesn’t use words at all - so asking them to keep their tone in check whilst referring to their unconscious classmate is a little too much for them.

So after awhile Yuji decided to lead them out of the hospital room, giving Gojo a parting smile before he closes the door behind him. Leaving him alone as he stared at the slumbering figure of his student as he rests his elbows on his parted knees. Quietly he rests his head in his hands, eyes closed as he tried to push back the light migraine that was coming on. He hates that it is his duty to break the news to the others - her parents, her elders. Heck, he has to give a call to Nanami and Utahime to tell them the bad news. 

If it was anything else, he wound be more than excited to blow their phones up. But this? He wishes that the duty was handed to someone else - because he himself doesn’t even believe that this was happening in the first place. 

He wishes that this was all just a terrible nightmare.

Maki quietly pushed the window open as she climbed in from the roof, the doors of halls of the infirmary long going silent; cicadas chirping away in the night sky. Maki quietly stuffed her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, eyes racking over Y/N’s sleeping form, to the amount of machines that were working by her side to make sure that she’s alive. “Hey, idiot...I’ve arrived.”

Quietly she made her way towards Y/N’s bedside, her eyes clouding over with an unreadable emotion. If she was being honest, she didn’t know how to react right now. On one hand, she was pissed - she is pissed off because she could have done something to help Y/N. Maybe if she was just faster, just a bit more aware, maybe if she was training to try harder. Maybe if she can just try harder-

A loud slap sounded across the room, Maki having pulled her hand out of her pocket to slap across her cheek hard to snap out of the spiraling thoughts. The burning sting on her cheek reminded her to return to reality before she started to trash the room out of anger, something that she and Y/N had been working on for some time now. Y/N would always say, “You should never turn to anger and violence to deal with your issues!”

Maki wonders what her reaction would be if she had saw Maki slapping herself so hard that there was a light handprint on the side of her cheek. “You’re so annoying, you know that?”

With a tired sigh Maki settled down in the seat that Gojo had occupied earlier in the day, keeping her eyes on the steady heart monitor; her eyes following the spike that indicates the faint heartbeat of Y/N. “Who the hell knew that it took an entire building to really get you hurt.” Maki sigh as she tore her eyes away from the screen, looking down at her boots quietly; examining all the scuffs and scratches on marring the smooth leather. “Call me stupid, but I really thought that it’d take more than that. Remember when you had jumped out the window of the 10th floor and left with no more but a bruise? You were crying about it ‘cause you couldn’t wear dresses for about 2 weeks.”

Maki let out a tired laugh at the memory of finding Yuta trying to reassure a crying Y/N when she found the bruise on her knee; Yuta just patting her head with the most amused look on his face whilst she cried her eyes out at the idea that she can’t wear her cute dresses until it cleared up. “Imagine what will happen when you wake up from this? God, that is going to be a pain.”

A soft sigh left Maki’s lips as she glances over at the stuffed sheep that Yuta had brought from her room; along with a few more random stuffed animals that surrounded her head like a halo. This caused her to smile sadly as she rests her head on her shoulder, watching her for a few minutes without saying anything. Maki had always been bad with words and emotions; with all the things she had gone through when she was younger. Wording how she feels and emotions are not Maki’s favourite thing to deal with, since she wants to keep this badass, strong woman front she has on all the time to prove something to her elders.

“You better wake up from this, or not I am going to kick your ass.” Maki mutters after a few moments, getting up with a tired sigh before she casts her another glance at Y/N. Without missing a beat, she reaches over to brush strands of hair away from her face, warm hand resting on her head for a few moments before she places a few parting pats on her head; something she had always done when she needs to leave for a mission or a meeting outside of school. 

“‘Night, brat. Wake up soon, okay?” Maki mutters, and with a final sigh she made her way towards the window she climbed in once more, quietly shutting it behind her after she hauled herself over the railing. It was only in the dead of the night that Maki quietly lets her tears fall, biting her lip hard to stop whatever sounds that were threatening to leave her lips. 

Because at the end of the day she is stubborn, and refuses to believe that this might be her new reality.

A week had passed since the day that the others found out that Y/N had fallen into a coma of a sorts, and everyone would visit at least once just to see if there is any sight of change. That there might be a sign that she was going to wake up soon. And there were slight changes; a few days after she had been admitted she was allowed to get off the ventilator and rely on oxygen instead. But she was still in bad shape.

Nanami tries to make time to drop by to visit as well, coming over to quietly read pages of the book that he was reading. Whenever Y/N was sick, she would call Nanami over the phone and ask if the man can read to her; something about how she finds comfort in his voice that puts her at ease. And since Ieiri had encouraged them to talk to her more for stimulation, Nanami takes the time to read to her after a long day of work. It brought him some comfort as well, listening to the constant beeping of the heart monitor and the humming of the other machines around her.

Gojo would sometimes drop by as well, only to berate Nanami for his ‘boring’ book choices; and an unconscious Y/N has to endure two adults arguing about book choices and how Gojo’s titles are definitely not appropriate to even bring onto school grounds.

Besides the occasional argument, sometimes Gojo will prop his phone up against a vase of flowers that Yuji brings so that Utahime can FaceTime him; the students from the Kyoto side being able to see and talk to the slumbering Y/N. For the most part, everyone was shocked that she was in the state she was in; having never expected such a bright and talkative person can fall into such a state.

The most distraught one was definitely Todo, who had almost jumped out of his seat and make a full on dash towards Tokyo if it wasn’t for Noritoshi and Mai joining together to restrain the man, along with Principal Gakuganji threating to hold him back from their planned trip to Tokyo the following week that had him calming down.

But barely - the man is still more than ready to just up and run across the country just so he can be closer to his ‘beloved Y/N-chan’.

Every day, without fail, Toge will come into her hospital room with a new accessory to pull her hair back into; carefully brushing her hair out and applying dry shampoo so it wasn’t greasy to the touch. Once he was satisifed he’d carefully style her hair back so it didn’t get in the way of her checkups, taking his time with everything so he gets to spend more time with her. He doesn’t say much, he usually finds that doesn’t whenever he is around her; so he takes his time when he does her hair in hopes that she can feel that he is there for her.

Yuta and Megumi will find time after classes to go and visit her together, telling her about everything that had happened whilst she is asleep. Sometimes Nobara will visit as well, must for the most time she’d come alone in the evening after dinner to just rant to her about everything that she found annoying that happened over the day. Nobara usually stay until Ieiri comes to kick her out, hoping that Maki might come in as well to visit Y/N.

But Maki never does - yet everyone knows that Maki finds the time in her day to go and visit her like everyone else. However, no one dared to ask her how or when she does it. They’ve accepted that it was probably a sensitive subject to her, and that it’s off limits to ask her unless you want her to ignore you for the rest of the day. Gojo had learnt it the hard way when he had teased her, only to be thrown out the window of their classroom by an annoyed Maki.

Even his Infinity is no match for that woman’s wrath.

Days soon led into weeks, with slow but not so encouraging signs of improvement from the young girl. The elders of her clan and her parents had visited the college as soon as they can, and had kept tabs with every single thing that is going on with her. There was no denying the fear of her suddenly relapsing once more, and soon it will become too much for her parents to bear. The idea of keeping Y/N around, knowing that she is in so much pain, just for their selfish want of keeping her alive was a reality they want to avoid. 

The once vibrant and lively campus soon turned gloomy; the hallways of the school quiet without the familiar sound of bunny-themed slippers running across its worn-out flooring. The chime of a familiar giggle was missing in the air, along with a dreamy voice that just never seems to stop; no matter what time of the day it is. There were days where the others forget that Y/N was not there to make dinner for the night, or she wasn’t there when they want to ask her opinion about something. Her room, which once served as a sanctuary for the students who can’t sleep at night, now became too painful to even walk past on certain days.

Yet everyone tried their hardest to go on with their days, knowing that it was what Y/N wanted them to do. If they were to allow their grief to consume them whole, they knew the delicate routine they had rebuilt would crumble before them. And if there is one thing they can do to keep Y/N’s memory alive, is to live their lives to the fullest. To try and cherish each and every day, no matter how painful reality is without her by their side.

They have to try, for her sake.

It wasn’t until a month passed when Yuta had came running into the lunch hall, looking like he had seen a ghost as he tried to catch his breath. “Okkotsu-senpai?” Megumi asks in concern as he looks over at the older man, putting his tray down to try and give his panting senpai a hand. “Are you-” He asked, only to have Yuta put a hand up to stop him as he took a few deep gulps of air.

“A-Awake...Y/N...Y/N is awake.”

Within a few seconds the students were sprinting across campus, none of them believing what Yuta had said until they have see it for themselves. What is usually a 10 minute walk from the lunch hall took about four minutes with them sprinting, possibly annoying half of the cleaners of the school that they were breaking the no running rule. Yet they didn’t stop even at their annoyed outcries, the simple wooden door of the infirmary almost coming off its hinges at how hard Maki had thrown it open.

Maki was the one who pushed the hospital room door open, causing the people in the room to jump in shock. Including Y/N, who had let out a soft squeak of shock; her voice hoarse from not using it for so long. The others blinked in shock at the sight of Y/N’s bright eyes meeting theirs at the doorway, ones that blinked before she gave them the biggest smile she can muster.

“H-Hi.” Y/N mumbles softly, to which Nanami just gave her a rare smile as he gently rubs her back, Gojo smirking softly as he recorded the reactions of the others by the door. He had gotten over the shock a few moments ago. “Don’t strain yourself, Y/N-chan. Remember what Ieiri-sensei said about straining your voice.” The blonde man hummed before he turned his blue eyes over at the shocked students as well. “And that goes to you too. If you all stress her out, I am not against tossing you all out.”

Y/N made a noise and turned to try and reassure the older man, not noticing how the others were staring at her in shock. The first person to move was Maki, whose eyes look suspicious wet as she stormed into the room. “I am going to kill you.” She growled out loudly, to which Y/N jumped before she held her arms out for protection; feeling a shiver of fear go up her spine. Yet before she can make a move to stop her, Maki suddenly wrapped her up in a hug, the arms that Y/N held out to try and pacify her angry classmate freezing from the unnatural reaction from Maki.

Y/N blinks for a few moments before she smiles softly and wraps Maki up in her arms as well, gently patting her head as Maki silently wets her shoulder with her tears. “I know.” Y/N mumbles out softly before her eyes met the others, giving them a soft smile as she gently gestures to the others to enter her room. Soon there was just a huge ball of crying teenagers hugging one another on Y/N’s hospital bed; Gojo and Nanami having moved aside to give them more space for their reunion as they watched on from the other side of the room. “Should we stop them?”

“Nah, we might get murdered if we try.” Gojo said with a hum as he grins over the sound of intelligible crying, looking over at Nanami who had a ghost of a smile on his lips at the sight. “Besides, this is great content. I never had a video of Maki crying before.” Gojo admitted, to which Nanami’s smile dropped as he looked over at him in annoyance. 

“Why am I not surprised at all?”

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform

#daydreaming!reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jjk imagines #jjk imagine #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo satoru #jjk gojo x reader #jjk itadori yuji #jjk itadori x reader #jjk fushiguro megumi #jjk fushiguro x reader #jjk kugisaki nobara #jjk nobara x reader #jjk maki zenin #jjk maki x reader #jjk inumaki to/ge #jjk inumaki x reader #jjk okkotsu yuta #jjk okkotsu yuuta #jjk okkotsi x reader #gojo sensei #jjk nanami #jjk nanami x reader

[izukus-sugar-baby]

Checked out!

WARNINGS: fluff-ish, eventually will be smut, mentions of getting sick twice

word count: 2k

Heres my first writing for tumblr! Hope you all like it!

Part Two, Part Three.

"Hey Miss!!" You peered down at the smaller voice, simultaneously feeling a book slip from your hand and onto the ground. The bookshelf was at least 5 rows high, and you had been standing as far as you needed to reach the top. You were dusting off and replacing the books on the shelf, which... hadn’t been so pleasant with children running around before their daily read. Regardless, you had a job to do. It wasn't gonna stop for a ton of kids. You had been rearranging the books in alphabetical order before the kid startled you. Thank god it didn’t fall on their head.

"Are you gonna read to us today? Or is Miss Maggie?" The kid didn't look over six years old, blue eyes and long brown hair with freckles littering her face in a wonderful way. She wore a small dress full of sunflowers with bright pink shoes on her feet. She had been here before... Although, her name wasn’t ringing a bell.

"I wanted to read one of those pigeon stories you read us last time!" You let out a sigh of relief that the book didn't smack the kid on top of her head prior to climbing down to the ground and leaning down be eye-level with her.

"Pigeon stories?" You've read dozens of books about dozens of creatures and characters. What on earth would relate to a.. pigeon? Leaning down a bit farther to snatch up the book you had dropped, she pushed another book into your arms. The title read The Pigeon Needs A Bath!

"This book is pretty thin, You sure you want me to read just this one book, sweetheart?" You stood up straight, handing the girl the book back before cocking your hip to the side and placing your hand onto it.

"Me and Emmie can go find some more!" She hurried off to find her.. friend? Knowing it had been a child, it could be a stuffed animal! But she sure did leave too quickly to ask any questions about it. You sighed, climbing back up to finish your organizing. Thank goodness I’m already close to being done. You thought to yourself, dusting top to bottom and moving onto the 4th row. Their reading wasn't for another.. what? 20 minutes? You had time to knock out another shelf. Time flew by as you finished the 4th row. It was already time to read.

"I have to stop by Goodwill and get some more books. I also gotta stop at the post office and some.. other errands? You got this reading?" The owner of the store, Maggie, looked over to make sure she had gotten your attention before naming off a few things that needed done in the shop before you closed up shop.

"Yeah! What time will you be back?" You climbed down the last step of the ladder, patting off the dust from the bookcase that had gotten on your apron. It was some cutesy hello kitty apron you wore so the dust wouldn't ruin your clothing but it really just made it look like it was some mini cafe. None the less, you wore it.

"I'll be back in time for that uh, Pro hero guy. I don't know- my wife wrote him in. Ask and she'll tell you!" You weren't too involved with all that hero bullshit, the whole who can save more lives?! You get the most money AND an award. The system in itself was ass and it wouldn't make a difference in your everyday life for one of those snobby people to stop by. You walked around the shelves, watching Maggie leave as you sat down on a small rounded couch. A small chime rang through the shop as it called the children over for their reading, a few already sitting and ready to hear you.

It wasn't a big library, it seemed like a corner store had gotten torn down and then completely renovated into a library for children. The second floor had been where the owner and her wife stayed. It was a cozy little place where about 8-12 kiddos would visit for a read. There were bookshelves in the walls for more book space and 5 separate shelves more towards the middle of the place. They held less books than the ones on the wall. Only two of the five reached over 3ft. Parents would come in just to rent a few books. But more often than not, the owner would go out hunting for new books for everyone to enjoy. Along with cute little toys and those foam floor mats to sit on. All of the children in the shop had sat right in front of you, including the girl from earlier who held 4 books in her hands. A few other kids held thin picture books in their hands as well, but only having 15 minutes to read to them, it might be hard to get around to all of them.

“Alright, Who's first?" You asked, smiling down at them. Every single child raised their hand, some even raising both so your attention was on them. Of course this wasn't going to be easy. You thought to yourself as you put a hand over your eyes, pointing to some random kid. He held a small book, standing up slowly and handing it to you.

"My mom reads me this sometimes.." Poor boy was only about 5, and seemed pretty shy. You gave him a reassuring smile before he went back to his seat. You began to read and in no time at all you finished reading the few books children selected. Thank god it was a Friday, Most children would be picked up right after the reading for afternoon preschool etc. But it seemed like no one wanted to leave. Was it that hero Maggie had mentioned? You sighed, hopping up and heading to the check out desk where you saw a few children wanting to check out their books you previously read to them. You leaned down over the desk to reach for the book, scanning it and doing so for each person. The store bell jingled, as if the creak of the door didn't give away someone walking in.

"Welcome to 'Children's Magical Bookshop,' You paid the person no mind as you spoke, handing the last child their book and letting your gaze fall upon the... very tall man in front of you. Noise filled the small shop, children running up to him screaming-

"Deku!" As loud as their little lungs could. He gave a flashy smile, leaning down to hug the children that ran straight for his legs. He laughed and lifted a few of them in his.. very strong arms. Was it hot in the bookshop? Was the AC fucked up? You force your eyes from the tall man.. Was he looking at you too? Your mind screamed at you to introduce yourself, Quickly walking towards a shelf to do something. Anything bust stand there and gawk at him.

"Are you Maggie?" There were hopping children behind him, playing with his gloves and such as you turned to him.

"No- I'm y/n. Are you that.. pro? She had been talking about.?" You huffed through your nose, turning to him. He extended a hand, nodding with a cheesy grin on his face as soon as you had taken his hand into yours. It wasn’t like you never saw him on the news, but you sure did skip the channel as soon as it was some bullshit hero chart over who had been number one. He was so much hotter in person..

"Yes! I'm sorry I'm a bit early, I finished patrol sooner than I thought! I hope I'm not interrupting anything? The woman on the phone said before six, I told her I was sure I could make it around five!" His eyes traveled to your lips for a moment, listening to you speak back to him.

“You’re fine, There’s plenty of time for you to hang out and sign all of their t-shirts and such. Make yourself at home big man. You can sit in the reading area,” The kids dragged him to where you were just moments ago.. But he couldn't get you to leave his mind. You were beautiful. He needed to make you his.

The poor hero stayed until about six o’clock to talk to you, since all of the kids finally left to go do their summer homework or whatever they had to do. Deku had been leaning over the counter for almost an extra hour to make some conversation with you, he just couldn’t help himself. You cant blame him either! You had this smile that he couldn’t resist. And quite frankly, he wasn’t used to this feeling of butterflies in his stomach. He fought some shit villain every day! What's a few butterflies? Especially as pretty as you. Why wouldn't he want to stick around?

“I really didn’t think it would be so chill this week! It feels like I've done nothing but catch up on papers!” Izuku scratched his neck with his index finger, shaking his head lightly. “I guess I really am doing a good job!- Of course other pros are doing their jobs as well!” He let out a relieved chuckle, looking at you with a big, sincere, smile on his face. “How has work here been? It must be so nice working with so many children!”

You feel your eyes involuntarily roll, shaking your head and leaning against the wall behind you. “It’s nice until some kid gets sick on themselves and their mother isn’t here to help. We have extra clothing in the back because it’s happened more than once.” You groaned as your eyes trailed to the door leading to lost n found, clothes, and other things. You had an unamused look on your face talking about it. He noticed and let his eyes follow yours until feeling your eyes rest upon him once more. Maybe texting would let you come around to him a bit more? Were you bored?

“Yikes- I’ve seen adults get sick after villains show up. But I probably should head back to my agency.” He looked out of the store window before right back to those beautiful e/c eyes of yours. “Do you have a number I can text? I would love to talk to you more y/n..!” He was already prepared for rejection. It was kinda weird to be hitting on you after dealing with kids wasn’t it? Maybe he should take it back. Was he coming off as some sleazy ass hero?

Your eyes widened in the slightest- Enough for him to notice. “Sure, Let me see your phone,” You stepped closer to the counter, seeing him fumble on the pouch of his belt before unlocking and giving you his phone. You went to his contacts, making yourself one of them and handing it right back to him. He had an even bigger, cheesier, grin on his face after he took it back.

“Thank you, y/n!” He bowed his head before quickly leaving out to his agency. Finally, you could go home as well. Not that he was a problem, but that man sure could talk. It was endearing. Maybe I can put enough of those stutters in mind tonight. You joked to yourself, grabbing your keys and walking out to lock up the small bookshop. There was no doubt that you were attracted to him. Every woman in America and Japan was attracted to him in some way.

You let out a small sigh, driving home and turning your radio up until hearing your phone ding. You glanced over at the screen to see an unknown number texting. Assuming it was Deku, you waited until you were home to answer him. By the time you had texted him back, he was quick to reply. You two made plans to hang out soon and have dinner together. You talked for hours until one of you had fallen asleep. He was ecstatic. You really enjoyed his company.

taglist: @tenyaiidasslut @hi-rubi @devilsbooksworld @flamingpastapotatoes @arleneeene @blacklotussai @akam4recs @prinvilmain

a/n: I fucking hate tumblr KWJCHDH ive had to re-write this more than once because they changed the layout if the save and post. Its not my best work and was mostly edited on here instead of Google docs. Learn to edit the first version first i guess 💀 The second part will be much better!

Please Reblog!!!!

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[nellie-elizabeth]

The Legend of Vox Machina: Whispers at the Ziggurat (1x11)

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Cons:

This is a small thing, because once again perfect episode is perfect, but I will say that Scanlan's "realization" at the start didn't quite hit right. They have him do a gasp and a flashback to him looking at the creepy book, and the star chart, and putting together the pieces, but I don't feel that we actually learned anything new here. It was basically: "ohhh that creepy book about a ritual and a Ziggurat means they're going to do a ritual at a Ziggurat?" I don't know, maybe they wanted to make sure the stakes were clear so we wouldn't be confused about the visuals of what Delilah does later, but for me it seemed like they were treating an obvious escalation as if it were brand new information, some sort of plot twist or reveal.

Could have done without the "you're their light now" callback during Keyleth's big moment, simply because it didn't quite hit for me right the first time, I felt the stakes weren't set up for why Keyleth getting that validation from Pike specifically would be important. It was fine, but didn't add to the epic-ness for me much. This is such a small quibble, though. Seriously.

Pros:

Fucking hell, this episode was everything to me. How to even talk about it?

We start off with some sinister setup with our villains as they prepare to do their creepy ritual. Cassandra calling Delilah "mother" really punched me right in the solar plexus, and then Delilah being so worried about Sylas keeping his strength up, offering Cass as a snack to munch on... yeesh. They give me the creeps in the absolute best way.

We then have a brief comedic interlude with Grog raring to fight Vax, and Vex saying no, then raring to fight Cass, and Percy saying no... and then Pike suggesting that perhaps he should have a rematch with Sylas...

We see our good guys approaching the Ziggurat and all the evil that's going to happen there, and then we have Anna running off, and the next ratcheting up of intensity with Percy and... Orthax, I'm just going to say Orthax, I mean, the subtitles do, so I figure that counts as not a spoiler anymore, even though his name is never said aloud on the show. The visuals of this scene, with Percy fighting against Orthax over whether or not to shoot Anna as she runs off... they're trying to sneak up on the Briarwoods, so a gunshot would give them away, but on the other hand Percy and Orthax really want that motherfucking revenge, y'all... god, it's so deliciously intense and this is only the start of the intensity ramping up and up and up.

And then of course Percy calls out: "Sylas! We have debts to settle." And we go into the action sequence, and that's the whole rest of the episode.

This whole thing was just... the action was so fucking stellar, it never stopped, my breath was caught in my throat the whole time, I couldn't look away... it's almost going to be hard to talk about, because my only thought the whole time is like... Keyleth vs. Sylas: amazing! Pike vs. Sylas: amazing! Scanlan running from Delilah: amazing! Pike vs. Delilah, saving Scanlan: amazing! Vex vs. Vax: amazing! Percy vs. Cassandra: amazing! Grog vs. Sylas: amazing! The whole way through, I was just intensely impressed by how dynamic and quick and impactful every bit of the combat felt to me. There are a lot of characters on the board, here. The seven members of Vox Machina, plus the Briarwoods, plus Cass, and yet I never lost track of anyone and who they were fighting, the pacing never faltered, I was gripped and completely anxious every second, even though I know how it all shakes out!

I guess I'll just talk about aspects I liked in no particular order...

First off, I like how overpowered Pike feels, because the literal glowing aura around her is a constant reminder that she's being projected here by her literal goddess. She has this artificial glow-up (sorry) that is so powerful but also so tenuous, as we see at the end of the episode. So we get moments like Pike withstanding Delilah's attack and then the "MY TURN" moment, and it's so fucking good and also doesn't feel like it's breaking the balance in any way, because there's this constant sense that Pike won't be this strong forever, and we don't know how long we'll get to have her with us.

The Pike and Scanlan stuff was particularly excellent. I loved "get away from my gnome!" and then Scanlan's literal heart eyes, and Pike's "probably a good thing I can't hear you right now." In my opinion, their hints of romance have been adapted so well from the stream. It's much better here, when instead of Scanlan just constantly pursuing Pike and her constantly rejecting him, it's just Scanlan simping so hard for this entirely bad-ass woman, and Pike sort of laughingly indulging him without full reciprocation. Maybe a small distinction in the scheme of things, but it's really working for me.

And then there's all the sibling angst! Give it to meeee. Vex and Vax's fight made me wince, every time the blood spray came I was horrified. I loved the "it's me", "I know", exchange because you do get the sense that Vax very much does know it's his sister he's fighting, he just can't cut through the charm to remember that he would never hurt her. And Vex screwing up her face and horrified with herself as she punches him again and again, and Vax waking up and breaking through because of Keyleth's timely Sun Tree intervention... the sob and the hug... I am so happy with how this went. Oof. So freaking intense.

Then Cass and Percy! Percy is literally having to fight off Orthax and his sister at the same time. He doesn't want to give in and hurt her, but she has no such reservations with him, and her name is on the List... god, the horror and tension of this. Again, even knowing how it's all going to turn out, I'm in the most intense suspense watching this stuff, wondering what's going to happen next. Of course there's the moment when Cass briefly flickers out of Sylas's control, and remembers Percy protecting and comforting her during their imprisonment, remembers them playing together as kids... I like the way Cass's betrayal is played because it's clear that it's not just Sylas using his mind tricks on her the way he did on Vax, there's the interplay of years going on here, the supposed abandonment by her brother, the indoctrination and brainwashing by her tormentors. It's not as simple as what's happened to Vax, and you can really see that playing out.

Keyleth gets some cool moments fighting Sylas before Pike takes over that fight; I love seeing her using all the elements like the Avatar she is most certainly based on... but of course she gets her big Sun Tree moment right when everything is at its lowest point, lying there weakened as all her friends are suffering and barely holding on around her... and then there are the tree roots. "I'm Keyleth of the Air Ashari. I know you're there. And holy shit do I need your help." The music. The light. It's so FREAKING COOL that Keyleth gets to have this intense moment, and it only builds from the first moment that the sun breaks Sylas's concentration and allows Cass and Vax to wake up.

But first you've got Grog and Sylas. A bad-ass rematch, but also some moments of levity, too: "No, I know what you're doing. Don't try and seduce me" and Sylas replies: "What? I'm not trying to..." that was so great, and I love that it worked, that Grog got a solid hit on Sylas and then was able to pin him down for Keyleth to take that final shot.

As I'm continually praising, the small moments that help establish character during fights are just everything to me. I love that you've got Grog holding Sylas down, and Keyleth ready with the strength of the Sun Tree behind her, but she stops to say: "Grog, I don't want to hit you..." and Grog tells her to do it anyway. Just such a great moment.

Scanlan gets his revenge on Delilah by silencing her the same way she silenced him earlier in the fight, meaning she's hopeless as she watches Keyleth burn Sylas to death. It's brutal, it's intense, it's everything I wanted it to be. Such an epic villain kill, that good ol' Grog and Keyleth combo, with Delilah screaming in her silenced condition, desperately reaching out for the man she loves. Brutal! Amazing!

Delilah's derangement here is excellent and there's so much setup happening in this scene where she tries to complete the ritual. "Sylas, I broke the world for us!" She said the thing! Ahhh. Honestly at first I was disappointed she didn't scream it like Matt did in the original version, but this worked for me too. Her creepy magic, the way the orb appears, The Whispered One standing there and then flickering away...

Meanwhile you've got the rest of the gang trapped outside of a door. Of course. I love that after Sylas's death, you've got Cassandra immediately snapping out of it, and Percy has this brief moment of relief that his sister is okay, but then it's right back into revenge mode. "That kill was mine!" he says after Sylas dies, and then "Delilah!" as he charges after his remaining foe. At this point not only do we have the creepy orange eyes and the smoke, we have the voice, layering over Percy's. How much of him is Orthax now? It's so fucking good and creepy and delightful, and for those who thought Delilah was the big bad of the season more so than Sylas, it's now becoming increasingly clear that there's an even bigger big bad waiting in the wings, hiding in plain sight.

Okay and let's talk about the cliffhanger now. Vex manages to get a shot off on Delilah, and we get one of my favorite line deliveries in the whole show as Delilah screams: "I'll see you suffer for what you have taken from me!" And then she tries to go for Vex, and...

Keyleth sacrifices herself for Vex. When I tell you I screamed, y'all. Now, I have some stuff to say about this in the next review, because I kind of don't think it works as an episode cliffhanger for various reasons. But honestly, I fucking love this change. Jesus Christ. First off, I have been totally gripped by this show all the way through, but I did in fact already know all the big things that were going to happen. Cass getting slashed in the throat by Anders? Later turning out to be a traitor? I knew it. Percy having a demon inside him? I knew it. Everything that happened, all the big shockers, I knew they were coming. And I was excited to see Vex get super mortally wounded and close to death in this fight, because I knew that was coming too. So when it was Keyleth instead, I was seriously so shook. I didn't expect it at all. And in my opinion, this is a great change.

This is the moment I mentioned before, where some people were having a hard time, and thought this moment stole something from Vex and gave it to Keyleth. But come on, y'all. If you're a fan of campaign one, you know exactly why Vex isn't the one to get a super scary "omg is she dead" moment here. You know. You don't need me to tell you why narratively we don't need Vex going down right here. Come on. And this is still a Vex character beat! This is about a season-long buildup of Vex and Keyleth's friendship, Keyleth willing to throw herself in front of Vex, Vex looking on in shock, asking "why did you do that?" I loved it. I loved it for Keyleth, and for Vex, and for Vax, and it completely threw me for a loop in the best way. I think they knew what they were doing, twisting this dramatic moment in a way older Critters wouldn't expect. As shocked as I was, and as upset as I knew some people were bound to be, I really took this moment as a gift, this rare chance to be as flabbergasted and thrown for a loop as anyone else watching.

And of course the true cliffhanger is Pike vanishing before she can heal Keyleth. This is what I meant when I said it's okay that Pike is the most bad-ass overpowered member of the party in these episodes, because at the drop of a hat she's gone and she can't come back and now Keyleth is dying.

And that's where we leave off episode 11. Fun fact: I hopped on an elliptical machine while watching these episodes and I beat my best ever distance in the same length of time because while watching this episode, I essentially sprinted through the whole twenty-five minutes. I was just so pumped, I couldn't handle the intensity, it was so. fucking. good.

I think I might have to give this one a perfect score, y'all.

10/10

#review #tlovm #tlovm review #the legend of vox machina #critical role

[serenityseventeen]

DK (이석민):

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“Star (3)”

synopsis: Seokmin has returned to the castle alone and locked into a cell for two weeks, where he gets the time to think about you and life. However, after those two weeks of being held in a cell, the first thing he does is escape the castle again, going off to find you.

parts: 1 - “Star” | 2 - “Star (2)” | 3 - “Star (3)”

warnings: injuries/wounds, blood, witholding someone in a cell, and butterflies and horses(?)

genre: royal!au, romance

characters: prince!seokmin x peasant!reader, ft. prince!seventeen members

word count: around 5k

a/n: happy birthday to seungkwan and sungjin again!!! this part ended up a bit longer than I thought and all of the parts of this fic would amount to around 10k; I didn't know if I should have added more (like more fluff) at the end... + kdrama update: I am watching 'the one and only' (it's so gooood the chemistry is off the charts and of course kim! kyeong! nam!!!!) and 'bad and crazy'!!!

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“I need to go out there again.”

Mr. Kim's eyes widened in surprise. He couldn't allow the prince to go out there again. Word of his escape had reached many kingdoms across the world already. Of he went out again, it would not be good for the prince, even if his intentions were not bad.

“I'm sorry, your majesty, but the king has made it clear that you shall never sneak out again. However, I do have to thank you for not exposing the secret tunnel, for if you did, I would never be able to see my wife and son.” Mr. Kim smoothed the prince's white shirt.

“You don't need to thank me. I'm the one who needs to thank you for letting me use the passage...” Seokmin was feeling guilty for having his most trusted servant, who was like a friend, go through hard times because of him.

After Seokmin returned to the kingdom on his own, Mr. Kim was put into confinement for a few days as punishment for not watching the prince well enough and allowing him to escape. Less than 4 days later, he was released because Seokmin told the king bravely for the millionth time that he'd take full responsibility.

That's how Seokmin got locked up for two weeks that went by like a year.

When he was locked up, he finally realized that the scenario he was in (being locked up) was the best he could get at if he wanted to feel what it was like to live like you.

The king found it too hard to watch his son being behind bars. The original punishment would be to have food portions and clothing reduced, have hands bound by chains, and ankles strapped to the bed. Seokmin wanted to know the worse of it; that was the only way he could think of to be able to understand you. However, the king always insisted on only having his leg bound; Seokmin was still given nice meals and sufficient clothing.

While in the cold stone prison underground with barely any light flowing in and only a small window the size of his head, Seokmin thought a lot about you. As the winter days passed he found his heart aching, maybe missing that short time he spent with you. He was eager to go out again, even if he was barefoot. He wanted to see if you were still living in that barely warm enough, tiny shack in the middle of the woods. He wondered if you were still stealing bread to survive. He wanted to see you again. Despite the time having been short, there was a small spark inside his chest from the memories that aroused the desire of wanting to see you again. Most of all, he wanted to ask why you didn't come with him to turn him in.

To fight the boredom inside the cell, Seokmin sang songs. He would make up lyrics about his wretching heart, about the poverty he witnessed, about the person he met while out there, about love.

Some days, his singing would echo through the castle and his younger brother, Seungkwan, would make his way down to sing a duet. Some days, Seungkwan would invite Jihoon, Jisoo, and Jeonghan to come along and sing as well. The five singing brothers would make songs in secret and sing happily, with smiles spread across their faces, without the king knowing.

On the day before his release, the king came to visit him in his lonely prison that smelled only of stone.

“Seokmin,” the king said, his voice gentle. “How did you escape without Mr. Kim knowing?”

“I stole his son's clothes and climbed over the grape vines at the back of the castle. I gave him one of the sleeping pills I acquired from the doctor when he came to visit Seungcheol. He fell asleep and I left.” The story was packed with lies.

“Okay, then why did you leave the castle while knowing the dangers out there? What made you think you should?”

“I realized one day that I don't see enough of the kingdom I am a prince of. I wanted to see the world and what it's like. Venturing with Seungcheol on horses only gave me a glimpse.”

The king stayed quiet so the son continued.

“Do you know what kind of world you're ruling?” Seokmin turned to his father and glared at him daringly. The king was surprised to find his son's new nature but at the same time, he wasn't. “There are people out there who are barely living lives. We have this whole kingdom filled with flourish yet while out there, can you guess what I saw and experienced, dad?”

Another bit of silence passed by.

“I saw them. They were poor. Not only that but because they were poor, everyone immediately assumed they were bad people, and they have no choice but to be bad. They barely have any to eat, the place they sleep is colder than this cell!” For the first time, Seokmin had exploded in anger in front of his father. “This is the world you have been keeping from us!”

“Seokmin, you are too naive,” The king said simply. “What do you think you saw? A piece of your kingdom or your whole kingdom?”

The king let out a sigh and pressed his face against the iron bars that seperated him and his son. Seokmin was sitting on the bed, his anger dissipated.

“What I, as a king need to do is focus on the majority of people, do you get that? There will be people who are unfortunate, that's just how life is, a balance between lucky and unlucky. Do you know why people die?”

“‘To bring equality to life,’” Seokmin recited. He remembered that line well because that was what his father always said.

“Among the rich, there is also poor. There is simply nothing you can do about it. Some people are born poor and some make mistakes in life and become poor, just like how some people are rich and some become rich. Are you going to show sympathy for every peasant in your kingdom?” The king placed one hand on the bars of iron. “I told you, a king does not need love but he can't have hatred. A king does not need to be generous and sympathetic but he should be feared and wise. You are not fit for a king.”

“I don't care about being a king,” Seokmin snapped, getting up from the bed with his fists tightly closed. “I don't want to become one. I know I'm not someone who is fit for it. I just know that I don't want my kingdom scattered and innocent people being looked down on just because of their class. You can be a ruthless soul but I cannot because I have a heart. I just want to help those people. When I do, I know I'll be a better person than the king who overlooks it.”

The king just shook his head and with his hands brought behind his back, he quietly turned away from the cell. There was no guilt anymore for he had seen it from the beginning.

It was hard to be a king but it was even harder in the beginning.

-

Seokmin felt bad for Mr. Kim. He felt that he was putting Mr. Kim in danger but he had to get back out there. He didn't want to be trapped in his own home anymore. He wanted to see you too.

So, when Mr. Kim fell asleep, Seokmin did not hesitate to leave. He changed into a fresh pair of silky clothing and grabbed a backpack, packing clothing, new shoes, a first-aid kit, food from the kitchen, and money. He didn't really know what he was doing anymore and why he was doing it but there was just a calling or a ringing, inside his chest, asking for him to pick up.

It was dawn when he left through the secret passageway. He emerged from the ground and he could see the bricks of the townhouses. Seokmin made his way over there and tried to trace his steps from 2 weeks ago. If there was any place he'd find you, it'd be the shack.

The sun was rising beautifully, painting red across the sky as Seokmin walked through the park with the cobblestone bridge and river of koi fish. He recalled the memories he made with you and that made his heart flutter, his hands grip onto the straps of his backpack, and his mouth grin shyly.

After passing a field of green, he was approaching the rocks that blocked the river water passage. He hadn't reached the location yet but remembered hopping upon each one like a frog, skipping on the stones with you.

When he passed the flower fields and came across the gigantic rocks, he smiled. It was you, swinging your feet back and forth, the back of your heel hitting the stone and then the tip of your old raggedy shoes getting drenched. You were humming.

“Y/N,” Seokmin called out. His heart was racing, just the sight of you made him want to go crazy and run around the fields like a loose puppy. He had been waiting for this moment when you two would see each other again.

He took a few more steps but your voice snapping caught him off guard. “Stop, don't come.”

“What?” Seokmin wondered out loud. For the first time in 2 weeks, he escaped and managed to find you again but the first thing you said was for him to not approach you? Of course, Seokmin knew that you probably weren't aware of his feelings, but still, he felt a bit disappointed. “W-Why?”

“Just because.”

-

When Seokmin returned to the castle by himself, you stayed at the shack, deep in thought. Though getting the reward would have made your life much easier, you couldn't find the bravery to accept the offer, which was ridiculous because you had always been known for your bravery. It was something hard to explain.

As days passed by, Seokmin never returned. You never heard or saw him but at times you'd catch wind of gossip and overheard from the silk weavers that he was placed in a large cell. You felt bad for him while not knowing why.

You felt regret for not taking the money too but it was like convincing yourself you lied when you told the truth. If the choice was given again, you knew deep down that no matter how much you needed the money, you wouldn't take it.

The stash of food stolen from peasants was growing low. As the winter days grew colder, it was much harder to find food while your body grew numb and closer to freezing. There was always one place warm with food; the bakery.

You got a few loaves, enough for the young children for a few days, even if it costed a slash on your arm and deep scratch on your cheek. Your brother could not steal from the hospital and no one had the money to pay for bills. Out of luck, his four fingers wrapped a cloth around your arm and face. It was quite uncomfortable.

You spent many days waking up at dawn. You didn't quite know why. Some days it'd be midnight rising and some days it would be dawn sleeping. You just kept thinking early in the dawn or late into the night about life, about peasants, about the kingdom, the king, and his 8th son, Seokmin.

You didn't expect to see or hear Seokmin, a prince, again. When he did show up, it was when you had an ugly and prominent cut across your face and bleeding arm that was too numb for stinging pain. You didn't want him to see you even if you badly wanted to turn to face him and look into those glittery puppy eyes and catch his lovely smile again.

“Is something wrong?” Seokmin asked after a moment of silence with only the sound of river running passing through. “I came because I—I wanted to see you. I also wanted to know more... about your world. I also have a lot of things I wanted to tell and ask you.”

You smiled. Hearing his voice was like listening to a comforting melody. “Why would you though? There's nothing here to see.”

“No, there is. You showed me so many things the last time we met and I want to know more. I want to know how I can help and what I can do for you.” Seokmin took a step forward and inch by inch, he was getting closer to you without you knowing. You just continued to stare blankly at the river that seemed endless looking like you were about to cry.

“You know, after meeting you that day and having you disappear for two weeks, I thought I'd forget about you already. I thought that meeting you wasn't that big of a deal but every day and night, I kept thinking about you—your life and mine,” You didn't know why the tells were welling. “I really can't understand anything.”

Seokmin had closed the distance while you buried yourself in your hands. His heart was drumming, not with flutters, but with ache.

“I just want to know why, what did I do to deserve such a life as this when everyone is living perfectly fine? I've tried before, to get a job, work and learn, but they all said the same thing: ‘you bring bad luck’, ‘the customers don't like you’, ‘you don't know how to do anything right, must be because you're a peasant’.”

Your words were muffled and for the first time, you could feel the pain in your arm as your raised it to cover your eyes. Seokmin had sat down next to you, on the big cold gray rock.

“I'm sorry for all that you had to go through,” Seokmin said quietly. “I want to change it. I want to know how to effectively change your life and the people who depend on you and that shack. My dad isn't giving in to any of it though.”

“It's not his fault,” You continued, sniffling as the tears dried against your palm, letting out a soft groan of pain. “It's just how the world is.”

When your face emerged from your palms, you could see his feet, dangling next to yours. His pants were of fabric you'd never seen before. His shoes were leather and neat and shiny.

Your eyes traveled to his shirt, white without creases, his sleeves folded to his elbows, decorated with buttons down the middle. Inside wasn't a feeling of envy, you just felt terrible inside, wondering what it'd feel like if you could see your brother wear something like that; so graceful, matching his figure.

Eventually, your eyes went from his neck, chin, lips, nose, and eyes, where your gazes locked. His eyes were shimmering a golden brown in the sunrise but without it would be brown like chestnuts.

Seokmin's eyes darted away after a few seconds. He shrieked with panic after seeing the scratch on your face that had yet to be fully healed. Your arm had cold blood trickling down to your fingertips.

“Y/N!” He grabbed your face gently with his warm and soft hands, his caring touch and warmth spreading all throughout your body. You felt the strength to smile. “Are you okay?”

You nodded and proceeded to explain that it was just a small scratch from the baker. “Even if I die, I can't let the kids die. Even if they grow up with no progress in becoming something more than a peasant, like me, I know one day at least one of their worlds will be changed. That's like saving a soul.”

His thumb caressed your cheek and his eyes were sad with tears. You were slightly confused as to why he was beginning to cry.

The blood soaked into your shirt and Seokmin had to notice it. He didn't scold you or anything, just, while holding your hand, took out a white box from his backpack and told you to stay still. He applied cleaned the wound on your arm, applied ointment on it, and bandaged it, all while crying softly.

You had to wipe his tears from time to time.

After he finished treating your wounds, he closed the box and put it away, saying quickly, “I knew I should have brought this first-aid kit.”

Seeing those drops of water come from his eyes made you feel like your heart had been stabbed deeply.

He pulled you into a warm, tight hug, whispering about how glad he was to see you again. It had been a while since someone hugged you that hard, like they were never going to let go.

It was a different kind of pain, seeing Seokmin cry.

-

Seokmin wanted to know your favorite place in the world so you took him to the butterfly haven. A luxurious field of only nearly dead dandelions, a few trees, grass, and tons and tons of butterflies. You could see the butterflies from far away, they swarmed the field like bees in a hive. The place was popular on weekends but not on weekdays, the walk to get there was way too long.

“Why do you like this place?” Seokmin asked, while picking a dandelion. The fragile butterflies fluttered their wings, flying from one side to the opposite, circling around flowers and the two of you.

“It's the prettiest thing I've ever seen.” You replied with a smile, trying to refrain from scratching your arm wound. “I don't see many beautiful things. It's also one of those places that continue to bloom instead of dying. It's already the beginning of winter but look at these dandelions and butterflies.”

Seokmin smiled while seeing you smile. It was crazy because butterflies should have already began migration.

“You know, there's something crazy about how we're looking at each other right now,” Seokmin said out of the blue. Your eyes were on each other.

“What's crazy about it?” You asked.

“I don't know how to say.” He looked away.

You laughed and the two of you leaned against one of the smaller trees, looking at the butterflies. You told him stories of your childhood and he laughed along to your humor. Seokmin told you about the lack of butterflies in the castle, that only a few would fly above the wall and wander around for a bit during the floral season.

Gazing at clouds was a new kind of activity for Seokmin. You told him that you often would stare into the sky and test your imagination, trying to figure out what each unique and absurd cloud shape could be if it were an object. Seokmin also found that activity fun.

Maybe everything with you was fun, especially when you were looking at him, making him feel free like a soaring eagle, and happy.

You introduced Seokmin to a game that the peasants played whenever they were bored. The children of the shack taught you it. It was a simple game; pluck a leaf from a tree and try to break it into as many pieces as you could. Seokmin found the game frustrating as the pieces he broke off of the leaf would blow with the wind. He lost every game and applauded the children for playing such a game.

Seokmin had packed food inside his backpack and said he wanted to share it with you. You refused at first but eventually caved in. It was the best meal you've ever had, or rather, the first meal you've ever had. There were side dishes, rice, and a main dish. You felt the urge to devour it all but decided not to because you wanted to share.

“I think this is the least prince-like I've been,” Seokmin said as you two watched the sun disappear behind a hill. It was kind of hard to believe you two spent your entire day walking and in a dandelion field of butterflies. “I really love it.”

“What do you mean by ‘prince-like’?” You asked.

The two of you were crisscrossed, sitting on the grass.

“Elegant, brave, intelligent, and obeying but also strong enough to make their own decisions.”

“I think you're like a prince,” You smiled at him and Seokmin smiled back at you. “But most of all, you just remind me of a human.”

“Of course,” Seokmin wanted to hold your hand but decided against it. “I am a human.”

“Do you have a dream?” You asked suddenly, plucking a dandelion. They always looked so furry and like little white pom poms but the one you picked was slightly brown and more crunchy than soft.

“I want to sing.”

“Then sing for me.”

That's how you met the voice of heaven from the mouth of an angel.

-

After finding out that Seokmin had left, Mr. Kim reported it to military leader Seungcheol, who informed the king. Seungcheol advised a search for the runaway prince.

“It's only been two weeks since Seokmin's first runaway,” Seungcheol said, looking up at his father who was sitting on the diamond throne. “He can be in grave danger. Seokmin is not well knowledgeable regarding the area and he can easily pass the border into the kingdom of Ruqy or Mez.”

“Seungcheol-ah,” his father began, his fingers tapping on the chair of the throne. “What do you think I should do regarding the peasants? It's not a large problem yet but I don't want it to be one in the future. As the oldest son, what do you think we, the kingdom, should do?”

Seungcheol stayed quiet for a minute. “I talked to Wonwoo about this. He said that ‘a king who neglects a fraction of his kingdom is not a king... the generosity and will of giving is a future threat as it is impossible to do and be perfectly both, thus, one shall never be too kind’.”

The king smiled fatherly at his son but did not say anything further until his sigh broke the silence.

“Let's find Seokmin. I want to talk to him.”

-

Walking back to the shack was going to take a while considering the time you and Seokmin departed the butterfly haven. It was already dark but thankfully, the path was lit by tall street lamps.

Seokmin said that his brother, Jisoo, who recently came back from dealing with an overseas alliance, was the one who suggested lighting up singular dirt paths like the one you two were walking on; he even made the design for the street lamp.

“I know it's a bit late to say this,” You said quietly, your feet and his rubbing against the dirt pavement. “But I'm sorry for what I said two weeks ago, before you told me to turn you in. It's crazy, we've technically only known each other for two days, but I feel such a large connection with you.”

“My brother Myungho told me that if you think about someone a lot and they're on your mind often, it feels like you spent time with them when you were just reminiscing,” Seokmin said. The mention of his brothers made him faintly smile. He loved his brothers with all of his heart but he felt bad for escaping the castle and hiding within his own kingdom.

“I guess—well, I did think about you a lot if I'm honest.”

“I thought about you too,” Seokmin tried to say it confidently but ended up getting embarrassed and shy. He hit himself at the side of his head and looked down as his ears turned bright red like a strawberry.

“Look,” you said quietly, coming to a stop in the middle of the empty dirt path. Your head turned to face the sky, you smiled, seeing the millions of stars brightening up the black. “Look at the stars, Seokmin.”

Seokmin lifted his head and was amazed when he saw the stars. They were just simply dazzling, each one of them.

“Now, I suddenly feel the want to make a wish.”

Seokmin smiled and turned to see you already with your eyes closed.

“Then, let's make a wish.”

He didn't look at the stars nor put his hands in a praying gesture. He just couldn't take his eyes off you. The only wishes he could come up with did not include singing or his kingdom. His mind just kept repeating one wish inside his head, ‘Y/N, Y/N, Y/N’.

“Seokmin, what did you wish for?” You asked, opening your eyes slowly. You didn't stop looking at the stars though.

“How about you go first?”

“To sleep better. For the past two weeks, my sleep schedule has been fucked up. Now, how about you?” The wind gave a slight chill.

“I don't know,” Seokmin replied honestly. At that answer, you turned to him with an amused and attractive half-smile. “I just kept thinking of how beautiful you look.”

“Seokmin—”

“I really like it when you call my name. The only people who do that are my brothers and my parents.”

You chuckled and looked at him in the eyes. “We've known each other for two days.”

“Yeah,” Seokmin grinned, his smile so dreamy that it made your heart melt. Your heart could only jump afterwards because Seokmin continued and said, “but we've been thinking about each other for two weeks.”

“I like that you've become more confident, you barely stutter anymore.”

“I also like that you smile a lot more,” Seokmin said, smiling with his hands shyly on his backpack straps.

Both of you laughed as each star in the sky twinkled.

Seokmin had never seen anyone shine as bright as you.

“Seokmin hyung! It's you, isn't it!?” The calling was from the side of the dirt path the two of you were heading. It was Chan's voice.

The clicking sound of horse hooves grew cleared and Seokmin knew he wasn't going to run away. You just watched in awe as the horse grew closer. It was Seokmin's horse that Chan was riding on.

“Chan...” Seokmin let out very quietly.

“So you were here! And you're with—” Chan stopped his sentence and hopped off his horse. There were three other soldiers on horses that followed behind Chan. “Dad wants to talk to you. Please stop leaving home without any notice, we were all so worried about you!”

Seokmin apologized quietly but quickly glanced at you, who was just staring back at Seokmin.

“Hurry, get on your horse,” Chan said, mumbling how much he was worried for his brother.

“Wait,” Seokmin said slowly. “This is Y/N and I'm taking them too. It's a long way back, you see.”

Chan nodded in agreement and quickly swapped places with one of the soldiers as they joined a different soldier. You were reluctant to get on the horse but Seokmin assured you that it was his horse who knew him better than any other animal.

You took his backpack around your back, took his hand, and boarded the horse and wrapped your arms around his waist hesitantly.

“It'll be a bit weird at first, but don't worry, I'll try to make it a comfortable jog.”

-

The king was smiling when Seokmin entered the throne room.

“Who did you bring with you?”

“The person who showed me the world,” Seokmin smiled at his father for a short second. He was in a surprisingly great mood but knew that he also did something bad. “I'm sorry for leaving the kingdom again.”

“No, it's fine, I just wanted to talk,” Seokmin's father said with a smile. The king was also in a surprisingly great mood. “You do know that I became the king of Svuentin at age 17, right, son?”

Seokmin nodded.

“At 17, I was still like a kid inside but I was forced to be mature. I had to take care of my kingdom. Anybody could have killed me, I was just a kid. I learned to fight, read, and learned from textbooks. I was focused on being a good king by learning to be good at everything; nobody could possibly hate me if I were a perfectionist.”

Seokmin's father took a quick sip of water from an expensive mug.

“That is not the way for me to rule. I, thankfully, recognized the faults in my kingdom. The fault was not just me but my people, they were uncontrollable. Some babies were born without enough milk or warmth during the winters but some were born with so much milk they grow chubby, so much warmth they grow sick of it. Seokmin, my son, you reminded me so much of myself, you know that?”

Seokmin blinked. His hands were clasped together respectively. He was drawn into his father's story.

“And of course, it's not easy being a king. I realized that there were people who didn't get enough though they deserved more and people who got too much yet didn't deserve that much. I tried to change it and I had a few ideas; build houses for them and give them money; give them food and offer them a job in the army...”

The king paused. “I wanted to help them in any way that I could. I was guilty, as a king, because a part of me knew that my people were not living nice lives and that I was partially responsible for it. I was feeling pity because I couldn't do anything effective. In the end, I just avoided it. When it did come up again, I let it go.”

Seokmin wanted to talk but found himself silenced, also wanting to hear more.

“Do you know what your grandfather told me?” The king sighed. “that a good king will be good because of their length of rule. But, I don't think that's true. For the past 50 years I have been king, I just simply kept our world going, but does that make me a good king? That's why I am going to change and relieve my guilt with the help of you, my son.”

Seokmin found himself smiling.

“I'll open free schools and libraries. I'll tell people the consequences of beating other people, no matter what class. I'll try my best to include that part of my society that was segregated. I'm going to try again to fix the problem. That's alI have to confess to you, son.”

Seokmin walked closer to the throne with a slight smile, his eyes down.

“I have something to confess too,” Seokmin said quietly. “the person I brought with me... I think I—”

“If you're worried about the arranged marriage I was going to have you do, don't worry about it.”

“What?”

The king chuckled at his flustered son. “That's right, though I'm not sure you were aware. I was going to have you marry the princess that Jisoo met overseas, but I think the doctor should be done treating your person. Their arm wound was pretty harsh. Why don't you go take a look?”

“R-really?” At this, Seokmin was gleefully smiling.

“Yes, punk. 12 out of 13 times arranged marriages don't work anyway.”

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