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oddinarylani · 3 months

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"you don't want me" | skz | pt. 1 | chan, lee know, changbin, hyunjin

9:51 pm. bang chan.

it was past midnight by now. the moon wasn’t shining. she was hidden behind great big storm clouds that’d been crying since noon. the dirt turned to slush, the pavements now a dark gray - different from their softer brighter colors underneath the sun. the only sound that triumphed through the room was the white-noise sound of the rain - beating down on the roof, on the windows, on cars outside, and on the earth.

empty. just empty. and tired. so tired. there wasn’t a way to describe it; and you were tired of trying. you hadn’t the drive for much anymore, not for work, or friends, but you still stood out for chan. you always would. you just haven’t been good at it for the past few weeks - and he was worried to bits which was the last thing you wanted.

maybe silence and the dreadful exhaustion of not even trying to communicate would fix things. maybe he’d get the right idea and move on. this couldn’t be good for him, no, surely not. there was better in the world, it just wasn’t the home of your arms.

“would you talk to me?” he asks, his voice shaky - brows melted together and worried sick. and he was truly worried sick. checking his phone for any texts from you or updates, laying awake when he let the worry eat him up.

you look up from your hands, realizing you were lost in thought. “o-oh, yeah. sorry.”

“sorry? i just want you to talk to me. you don’t have to apologize.” he grabs at your hands, a slippery grip that shakes his stable hold, he eventually steadies his hold and looks at you with a kind of wavering certainty. he’s trying desperately to be the strength you need, but his vigor is faltering. he sees all the hope in the palms of his hands being to melt away and he hadn’t the time to sort through the hundreds of thoughts forming in the terrorous wake of that.

your hand falls slack in his own, failing in your grip of his desperate grab of your hands. chan watches every microexpression that graces your face, seeing your brows bleed together. doubt strikes your features, and you slide your hand from his grasp, shaking your head before the words leave your mouth.

all you had to do was muster the strength to speak the words, but even then, swallowed by a kind of grief, completely blindsided by false-truths, but even then it hurt to say.

“y-you don’t want me,,” your watery eyes can’t even meet chan’s - he feels his heart shatter into a million pieces all over the floor.

“you’re all i want, all i have ever wanted- what do you mean.” and his voice wobbles, he wants to reach out, grab you, stabilize you - shake the sense into you, because what do you mean he doesn’t want you? he’s wanted you so terribly for so long that he let it tear him up inside.

“i’ve been in love with you for years- i-i love you so much, you’re all i want.” he does reach out now, bracing your arms in his gentle hands when the tears spill over your cheeks and you crumble in his hold.

“b-but i’m like,,, this- i-i don’t-” he brings your body into his arms, your chest meeting his as his big arms wrap around you and hold you tight to his body. he’s warm, and his embrace just fills you up so much you don’t know what to do with it.

“i love this part too. i promised you that and i do. i always will okay?” his hands hold the sides of your head, over your hair - and he pulls away to look you in the eye when he says that. he knows you need to hear it, knows you need to look at him when he does.

you fold and buckle, only able to nod to keep your voice from wobbling and cracking. you wrap your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his chest.

“i’ll never stop telling you i love you.” he presses his plushy lips to the top of your head, his hands smoothing over your back gently. “i’ll tell you more.” he promises.

“i-i’m scared i’ll push you away, that i’ll scare yo-you off or that i’ll hurt you. i-i can’t-” you shake your head against him and frown, his t-shirt soaking up the wetness from your cheeks. “i can’t hurt you, chan. i can’t do that to you.”

“you don’t hurt me, baby. you never have, i promise. just wanna be here for you.” he mumbles against your hair, his hand cradling the side of your head. his lips leave tingly kisses along your hairline, and his promises to you fill you with love that you’re unsure what to do with.

you nod against him, and he smooths his hands over your head again, “okay? i love you.” he pulls away, his eyes soft and brows melted together as his sights washed over your tear stained cheeks and face. “love you too.” you mumble, his thumbs swiping your under eyes and drying your cheeks.

8:12 am. lee know.

soft cuts of sunlight filtered in through the lines of the blinds and you’re immediately met with the warmth of the bed beneath you. the shirt you were wearing wasn’t yours, and your hair still seemed done from the night before - with a wandering and curious gaze, your eyes filter over to the sight next to you, and your lips part in surprise.

minho, laying like an angel, as always. sleepy, soft skin blanketed by a thick comforter - lean muscle beneath. his hair was sprawled and he was still wearing makeup but if he wasn’t the prettiest sight in the world you didn’t know what was.

only problem of course, he was your friend. a long time friend. and you’d been into him for far too long to let this slide.

quickly, your legs slither out from the comforters, your toes finding the wood floors with ease as you move quietly to slink out of his bed, your gaze fixated on his sleeping face the entirety of your attempted escape. you pull on your skirt from the night before, grab your shoes in one hand before they slip from your grip and clatter to the floor quite ceremoniously.

your face winces up, shoulders and spine tight as he stirs, his eyes fluttering open.

he leans up on his elbows, eyes squinted as they adjust to the mild morning light coming from behind his blinds.

“what’re you doing?” he asks tiredly, slumping back into the mattress as you gather your shoes in your hand once more.

you push your hair from your face, huffing to gather your breath as you look at him. “i have to leave, minho.” you explain, feeling the tightness in your chest gather at the thought.

“you don’t, come back to bed-” he groans, stretching, his hand gently offered to you as he laid back down, eyes sleepy and voice croaky.

all of your hurt, after all of these years comes back to the forefront of your brain. the nights you spent crying, realizing he’d never want you, the years spent in pain in realization you’d never have him. and you can’t stop yourself from blurting what you truly felt, tired and defeated.

“you don’t want me.” you shrug like it’s easy, like there was no other way, only acceptance of what you’d manage to convince yourself of. your chest aches at the sound of your own statement, but you grip your shoes a little closer and swallow the dryness in your throat.

he leans up, slow. the crinkle of the comforter as he does so only fills you further with nervous anticipation. his eyes are still tired, angeled and low and he seems so pleased with what he says.

“i do want you.” his brows lift for a moment. not for a second does his eye contact waver - and you knew, a small but very true part of you knew he wasn’t lying but you couldn’t accept it. no it wouldn’t be that easy, and maybe it meant something different to him.

“no you don’t.” it’s gentle, defeated, barely rolled off your mouth when you say it and he feels your hurt - feels a bit of his own too though he wouldn’t like to admit it.

“i do.” he presses. his expression changes, one of understanding that melts at the ache in your chest. he softens, his hand now more of an extended invitation. almost like he was silently pleading with you to just take it - take it and trust him.

your fingertips tingle with the twinge of need that extends in your touch; they act before you can control them. the back of your hand raises, the supple skin of your palm meets his, and he wraps his hand around yours the moment you touch.

it feels so right - god it feels right. it nearly takes the breath away from you - even this was enough. just this.

he pulls you closer to him, his arm lifting to circle around your waist like it was the first time he’d ever done so; his touch and hold almost chivalrous. never for a second does he let his eyes leave your own, your face. his skin awakens prickles in your skin, your lungs take in breaths shakily - like every bit of you trembles at his touch.

he takes your hand, swallows it in his grip because he wants to ground you - just think of me. it’s like he says. i’m here. a promise. what he can’t muster to say in words - he tries desperately hard to say in the way he floods your senses. it’s bracing, whole.

“have for a while.” he admits softly, as your knee comes to press into the softness of his bed, getting closer by the second.

“why didn’t you say anything?” you ask, sitting with your legs folded over his own cloaked by the comforter.

he shakes his head gently, brows raised again, for a moment. “don’t know.” he musters, smiling for a second at the realization of his own sheer disbelief. why hadn’t he? fear? doubt?

“i should’ve said something too. ‘s okay.” you squeeze his hand before softly pulling it from his grasp, knowing he wasn’t the biggest fan of skinship. but to your surprise, he reaches back out for you.

he pulls your hand to his cheek, leaning into the touch with soft low gaze. his skin is warm, his guidance of your hand to his face is gentle, and you feel your heart lighten at the action, a small understanding smile on your lips. your shoes are disregarded, hair messy, but all you see is him. and all he wants is you.

3:43 pm. changbin.

“your friend,” your mom begins. “the one with the…” her voice drifts off, her hands gesturing in long strokes of her fingers from the top of her head to her mid-waist, repeating this action until you understood. the long hair, she was meaning.

“yeah,” you follow with their name.

“their parents were at the recital - did you know she’s going off to a performing arts high school?” and you swallow because of course you knew this, the whole school did. and now your hands were wringing together because you were nervous, anxious. and you just didn’t want to hear her actually say it or it’d confirm everything.

“why don’t you do something like that?

it was a frightening feeling and not at all fleeting. no. this sat with you, cooked inside your brain and marinated in a venomous concoction of long-lasting insecurity and self-doubt.

being loved by and loving changbin was a catalyst and returning friend of a face you said goodbye to some time ago. comparatively, you and changbin were very different people. a world-renown producer and artistic creator to one of the most popular kpop groups to ever rise in the industry, and you.

little you.

with nimble fingers half-good at crochet, a homemade recipe for lemon ginger tea, and a smile you convinced yourself most days was nice, you didn’t compare. it wasn’t sad, it took no convincing on your end, it just was.

suddenly consciousness regains in the forefront of your mind - and it slips from your lips before you can stop it.

“you don’t want me.” it’s said into the phone pressed against your cheek, you’re driving, and you’re nearly home. the rain is still falling from the morning - shining and wetting the roads up for traffic lights to reflect their bright colors on the throats of puddles.

on the other end of the line, changbin’s voice dies in his throat - too thoroughly stunned in the moment to even try speaking. his lips part, his brain thinks over the words you’ve just said to him, and he can’t puzzle himself as to why you’d ever say that.

“w-why do you want me-” a sharp intake of breath past your lips, a shudder, the slam of your car into park as the doors unlock and his very first instinct before anything else is to be there.

he says your name, speaks it with ease - familiarized himself with the way it feels in his mouth, and he stutters before speaking again.

“of course i want you- are-are you okay? talk to me, baby what’s going on?” he stiffens up in his chair and chan leaves the room to grab a call from an executive. right now the music doesn’t matter, the hours of work spent trying to delicately assemble a new track doesn’t matter, the only thing he can think about is you. why you’re saying this.

“i-it’s been-” you sniff, wiping your face at the pathetic notion of your own tears. “it’s been on my mind lately and i can’t stop thinking about it, bin.” your hand shakes with the grip on your phone, voice failing as you succumb to the tears. your shoulders shake, and you put a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise - as if you could hide it from changbin.

“baby, i’m here, i’m here, it’s okay. let me wrap this up with chan real quick and i’ll be over okay? you at your place?” he asks, voice soft and turned away from the mixing booth as chan walks back into the studio.

you nod, humming and confirming.

“i’ll be on my way in a minute, okay? i’ll text you when i’m headed over, baby.”

he leaves a minute later, driving like hell to get to you quick enough - and when he sprints up the stairs to your apartment he walks in to find the lights low and your form sitting on the couch - head resting in your hand.

“i’m here, baby. what’s wrong.” he doesn’t miss a beat - immediately he kneels at the couch, his hands coming to stroke your upper arms, coaxing you soothingly to open up to him. you shake your head, lips wobbling.

“god- it’s pathetic really, bin-” you almost chuckle in hindsight. “just…” you look down, feeling the warmth of his hands as he circles you.

there’s a brief intermittent pause. a realization. it washes over you and steals the words from your mouth and the thoughts along with them. his hands pause between your bodies as if he’s afraid - afraid to touch you - afraid to upset you. more big wet tears cascade down your cheeks, face flushed with heat and red, and you wish more now than ever that he’d just hold you.

“i-i don’t,,, i can’t-” you sniff. “compare to you.” it angers you to even speak it, knowing it’d hurt him. why.

“y-you don’t,,” you shake your head, your eyes filtering up to meet his own that look at you with such disbelief it’s almost sobering.

you were telling him this. like it was a fact, like it was your decision to make. he thinks maybe that’s why it hurt so much to hear you say it. like there was no alternative in your mind, nothing you could tell yourself to soothe this particular ache. like your mind was made up.

“baby, baby-” he stands to sit next to you on the couch, gently grabbing your legs to toss over his own, his hands coming to stroke the wetness from your cheeks. every touch of his skin on your own is terribly grounding and sobering, and for a moment your tears slow a bit as he cradles your face in his calloused hands.

“all i want is you. all i want. okay? i want all of you, on your best and worst days.” his arms circle you, hand resting at the back of your head to urge him into your shoulder. there’s where your tears fall now, arms grasping onto him and his shoulders. “there’s nothing you or anyone else could say to change my mind either. you’re perfect and i love you.”

you nod against him, breathing in shaky. “i love you. i love you so much.” you know he’ll say it as many times as he must before you accept it.

“love you too. love you.” you’ve become something like putty in his arms as he holds you. his hands soothe over your back, and you hear it; hear him. and believe him.

1:03 am. hyunjin.

your fingertips shake, fluttering over the textured fabric of the dress sitting daintily from your figure. a breath released, a breath inhaled, and in the next moment - it all comes crumbling; the image of yourself you brave for yourself. the falsities, the fabrications. in the reflection of the mirror you watch peripherally your face drop, turning to the side to run your hands over the curve of your body, trying to make it fit, trying to fit this idea into a box.

your hands drop slack, hitting the sides of your legs. your composure weakens and you feel a buckle in your ability to withstand it.

“fuck,,” you whisper, turnin away from the mirror with your hands on your face - fighting with might only a god could match to keep from crying.

too many tears were shed because of this very same reality, you didn’t want to give it the satisfaction of succumbing to it.

but your knees buckle - submitting to it, and you’re right back at square zero.

hyunjin was going to be home any moment now, this fact had drifted away from your thoughts as hot tears welled up in your eyes, only when you hear the door unlock do you tighten up like board was tied to your back. you stand, walking to the closet to change quickly. just as your fingers unzipped the back, tears rolling over your cheeks and jaw, hyunjin announces he’s walked into the bedroom with a soft, “i’m back, baby.”

his voice was soft, and he was completely oblivious and safe from the torrent of thoughts within your skull. he slinks in, your hands pause from unzipping your dress. “ah,” you sniff. “hey honey.”

his head turns in your direction at the sound of that.

he doesn’t have sights on you, you’re hidden behind the closet doors, but he makes his way over quietly, making a questioning type of humming noise, as if gently asking, “what?”

you keep your lips sealed, unable to conjure an excuse quick enough - he’s suspected you already and you know if he finds you like this, it’ll be a torrential downpour you won’t be able to stop - hyunjin had that effect.

“,,,babe? what’s-“ “d-don’t-“ your hand stops him from opening the closet door, you didn’t mean for the action to come across as aggressive it was - but you couldn’t let him see, and your heartbreaks at the idea.

“what’s wrong, angel? i won’t judge you, i promise.” he relaxes his hands on the closet doors, his eyes darting over it’s surface. there’s a bit of anxiety boiling up now for hyunjin, he hadn’t a clue what was going on but he expected the worst by far. all he wanted was to be there for you - know why you were upset and help.

“the dress i-… it doesn’t look good.” you sniff again, on the very edge once more as tears build more, faster.

“i’m sure you look beautiful, baby. it’s okay. can i come in?” he doesn’t press the door, but instead waits for your consent.

“s-some of the beading came off while i was putting it on and the seams look stretched-“ you take a breath shakily from your nose, “hyunjin-“ you say his name with reason, like saying it would be enough to soothe you. hyunjin feels his heart ache deep within his chest, his bottom lip pushed out slightly as he hears your hurt.

“you won’t… you won’t want me.”

it absolutely tears him up inside the way you say that.

he pushes the door with no fighting from you, eyes first and only meeting your eye contact. “all i want is you, okay? i want you.” he promises, hands a bit shaky as he smooths over your hair and holds your face, his movements a bit sporadic as he tries everything he can to get you to focus on him, on what he was saying.

“i love you.” he exhales. “i love you.” his hands shake your face the slightest amount to just try to get you to believe him.

“and you look so beautiful, baby.” he mumbles into your hairline, pulling you into his arms, his own eyes closed tight. his hands flatten against your back, running his palms smooth over your exposed skin. “you are so beautiful.”

in his arms, your crying slows. and the only reason he lets you go is to make a point.

“come. follow me.” he grasps your hand, letting you follow behind him with as he stands in your mirror.

“look at you.” he smiles softly, holding your hands in his own. “so pretty,” he whispers as if in thought, looking over your form as if it was a book to study.

you wipe your face, feeling hyunjin begin to walk behind you, his hand kept only our waist as he now towers behind you - warm hand resting on your hip. “i knew when i bought this you’d look beautiful but,, it’s more than that.” his voice is soft, only shared between the both of you.

you shake your head gently, feeling his hands steady on your zipper, stabilizing your side as he begins zipping you up - his eyes thoroughly focused on your form in the mirror as he does so. he says it like he doesn’t doubt it even for a moment. there’s not a moment he doesn’t think you’re outstanding, and not a moment he wishes to quiet his claim of your beauty.

“look at me,” he asks, gently lifting your chin to meet his eyes in the mirror. you let his soft touch gently guide you - his thumb swiftly drying a stray tear. his hand settles on the other side of your waist, holding you in his hands. his look is all too knowing, chin dropped, fully expectant on you understanding what he was thinking - and all you can do for a moment is chuckle, wiping your cheeks.

“you look so pretty, baby - this was made for you.” he promises, admiring the texture of the dress under his hands as he gently strokes your sides and smiles.

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naffeclipse · 3 months

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Warm Fangs

Naga!Sun x Reader. Sickness.

As you sleep, the fever worsens. Chills hit you with a violent shudder. The heat from the sickness flees under the quaking cold. You moan softly, curling up tighter. A soft hiss shushes you but you can’t find anything warm, anything warm at all.

The smooth brush of scales loosens from around you. The outside cold slips away from your feverish skin but stays within.

“It hasn’t broken yet,” Moon murmurs distantly. Cold fingertips brush your hair, damp from sweat, away from your forehead. A whine leaves you. You hate how pathetic it sounds inside your head.

“Oh, no. I was afraid it might linger with our poor lily pad,” Sun lowers his voice but he’s not as quiet as his brother, holding a stage whisper more than an actual whisper. You might have smiled if you weren’t bothered by the mottled moonlight giving way to a blue-bright early morning sky.

It doesn’t feel warm. The sun is supposed to reheat the earth and take away the frost filling your chest with a shivering revolt.

A few quiet exchanges slip away in your near unconsciousness. Gingerly, you become weightless, lifted into the air like a feather before pressed into other arms. Heat, raw and covering, finally touches your body. You breathe out a low sigh, eyelids fluttering to peek up at the source of the heat. The form softly sways as you’re carried away.

“It’s going to be alright,” Sun hums. He looks down at you, his spiky frills flaring around his head in golden hues before the shadow of the cave eclipses the morning sun. “Don’t move, my water lily, you’re still sick.”

“Hmm, I’m fine,” you half moan. Your eyes fall close again. A tender soreness soaks into every muscle, especially at your neck and your shoulders. The deep, deep ache that refuses to go away.

You shudder with another chill. Sun clicks his tongue in concern, the forked end whipping with a snapping worry.

“You amaze me, truly. Even in the throes of illness, you’re still so stubborn.” He laughs softly, endearing but in a way that almost makes you push yourself out of his steady arms. He doesn’t get to think you’re cute. Not right now, when you feel how sticky your body is and how weak your limbs dangle as he carries you deeper into the cave you’ve made a shelter within.

“Sun,” you softly groan.

“Save your strength to fight the fever, not me.” A soft peck of his scaly mouth touches your temple. You nearly dissolve under his doting command. “You need to rest and do as I say so you can feel better. I don’t like to see you like this.”

You, in a reflective, rebellious instinct, almost try to kick out your feet and find solid ground, but Sun lowers you to the cold, cave floor. You’re seized by another icy torrent of coldness. Hugging your arms, you quietly groan. A soft swell of tears teem over your eyelids. That’s from the sickness, you tell yourself. You’re not crying because Sun and his sweet warmth let you go.

“I’ll be gone for only a moment, lily pad. Hold on for me, okay?” he singsongs.

You want to snatch the heat that had held back the torturous chills. Lifting your heavy eyes, you scour the dimness of the cave, catching sight of Sun’s long body softly slipping over the stone towards the shelves that were chipped into the wall of the cavern. The rich yellow hues of his scales are bright even in the shadows of rocks. The markings along his waist and around his throat are scarlet and vibrant with warning of his venom. You watch the outline of Sun’s defined shoulders move, taking and gathering, collecting a pale pink blossom you can’t currently name.

Pressed against the wall in a sleepy bundle of his scales, Moon watches you, eyes half lidded but attentive. You didn’t hear him enter. His hands open and close, as if to reach for you. He holds back. You frown at his distance but recall his cool scales through the midnight fever, and drowsily, in fitful half-sleep, wait for Sun.

He returns with a skim over the floor. His presence washes over you with hope.

“Don’t cry, my water lily. I’m here,” Sun coaxes with gentle mirth. A crooked finger swipes the leaking liquid from your eyes.

“Not crying,” you grumble, voice croaking like a frog. “Not a water lily.”

“Oh, I’m going to have to disagree and blame your lack of sense on the sickness,” he chirps as if you were simply the most adorable thing he’s ever seen.

You pry your eyelids open for a glare. You certainly are not a beautiful and grandiose flower. Not right now in your freezing weakness.

Moon’s hissing laughter echoes. It fills you with another short burst of irate energy that lasts for only the moment of his humor. Sun tuts and shoots Moon a look before gently cradling you. The golden naga guides you upright with a tender hand supporting your back. He rests your head on his shoulder, his underside a shiny, pale cream color, and the gentle heat of his body burns away the chills holding you down.

He lifts up a small flower, pale pink and pom-pom like on the end of a slender, green stalk.

“Eat this. It’ll make you feel better,” he softly insists.

You eye the flower as if it were a venus flytrap, and you were a particularly weak fly.

“What is it?” you murmur.

“I’ve heard humans call it a sensitive plant, sometimes called touch-me-not. If you had told me you weren’t feeling well early, you could have had this sooner.” The chasiting does not evade your awareness. Sun lowers the plant closer, as if offering a rose instead of medicine. “It will help with your fever and chills.”

“Ugh,” you turn your head ahead. The thought of eating when you have no appetite rears an ugly head within you. “I don’t need it.”

“I disagree strongly, lilypad,” Sun crones in disapproval. “Once you eat it, you’ll start to feel better.”

The soft lift to his tone invades you. You want to squirm, keep turning away from the offered medical plant, but Sun’s warmth surrounds you entirely. Gently, his finger guides your cheek until you face him once more.

“Please, won’t you, for me?” His cornflower blue eyes hold you with his plea. From the corners of his wide mouth, the very tips of fangs glint, but you’re not afraid of his bite. He saved you with his venom, once.

You grimace and force your lips to part. Murmuring praises and coaxes alike in a soft, musical tone, Sun presses the flower head to your mouth until you bite it off, and chew laboriously. It tastes green and dry. He watches you, hawk-like, ensuring you masticate the soft, brittle like petals before swallowing against the vicious dryness of your throat. You gasp after gulping.

His smile grows like a sunbeam at sunrise.

“See? It wasn’t so bad.” He tenderly rubs his mouth against your forehead. “Thank you."

The heat of his affection battles the cold underneath your skin, and when you shiver, he holds you tighter. You fall deeper under his fondness.

"This will pass and you’ll be in tip-top shape again,” he says softly, brimming with heated hope.

Oh, Sun. You want to curse him. You want to tell him that he can’t talk like that, melting your insides and making you nothing but an ooey-gooey mess, but you can’t. You are swept away by his sweet tones.

No one but Sun unbalances you and catches you in the same motion. He’s disarming. He's the only thing that feels right.

You slump against him in another full-body shudder. Softly humming, Sun begins rearranging your limp form, draping your legs across his deliciously warm tail as the dark end wraps your lower legs. The tightness of his coils used to frighten you before you realized how summery and soft he is. He tucks you gently against his arm, lying down to become your personal pillow.

You are so useless. It’s a miracle you haven’t faded away by now—a miracle of two nagas, no less.

“It’s also called humble flower,” he continues with a soft note. “Perhaps you could take that aspect from it as well, my water lily.”

You moan, unable to offer a rebuttal that you are no flower, but his gentle embrace covers you entirely. His chest thrums lightly with a heartbeat you’ve listened to before. A soft hum fills his throat. He continues pressing his mouth against your cheek, the crook of your neck, and the top of your head as if smothering the clammy effect attempting to surface on your body.

“Soon, you’ll rise and we can stroll through the jungle and find more flowers, more flowers like you, and you’ll feel better. Doesn’t that sound nice?” he chatters endlessly.

You can only snuggle deeper against his chest, against his warm, smooth scales, better than any patch of sunlight, and trust in him.

#for when the chills hit and you have a nice warm naga to help you through it #i wrote this late last night again #your girl is going through it #if there are mistakes just close your eyes and don't see them ty #warm fangs #naga au #naga!sun #sun x reader #naff writing #i'll add this to ao3 later too #if i have more energy i might write a third part with a certain someone

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yandere-daydreams · 10 months

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Title: Vampiric.

Pairing: Yandere!Miguel O'hara x Reader (Spiderverse).

Word Count: 1.4k.

TW: Vampire AU, Blood and Violence, Unbalanced Power Dynamic, Predator/Prey Dynamics, Implied Past/Future N0n///C0n, and Obsessive Behavior.

He came to you in the midnight hours.

You’d learned, by now, to wait for his nightly visits in privacy, to sit on the corner of your bed farthest from your window and listen for the distant sound of claws digging into wood, of a body dragging against stone, of nails scraping against glass as he beckoned you to let him in willingly. Of course, you didn’t, and of course, he didn’t need you to – your bedroom window crashing only a moment after you would’ve reached it, a pair of talon-doting hands wrapping around your windowsill before Miguel hauled himself inside, scarlet blood already dotting the collar of his white undershirt. Clearly, he’d already fed, tonight. His appetite had already been sated, which meant he’d only come to you to wash the taste out of his mouth.

The alternative would’ve been kinder. When he came to you half-starved, you could blame his violence on his hunger, his cruelness on his desperation. Whatever he did tonight would only serve his own twisted sense of entertainment.

He was grinning, too; crimson painted over his lips and dripping from his chin, coating his pointed fangs and spilling onto the fine silk of his tunic. With your back to him, your shoulder pressed into the plain wood of your headboard, you watched from your peripheral as he stepped into your bedroom, letting out a bark of a laugh and arching his back before stiffening, his smile falling in an instant with a sharp, venomous hiss. He didn’t flee or melt into a pile of ash and bone as you’d hoped, but only turned back to your window, catching the wreath of purple and white flowers posted above it on his claws. “Garlic blooms,” he muttered, crushing your wreath in his fist. The ruined flowers were allowed to drift pathetically to the floor, but you forced yourself to look away before they landed. “Trying your hand at botany?”

“Someone told me that garlic was good for keeping away for keeping away unwanted pests, but they must’ve been mistaken.” You didn’t move, didn’t turn, keeping your back straight and your hands wrung together in your lap. It was all you could do to keep your voice steady, to hide how much you wanted to buckle into yourself and beg him to leave. That’d come soon enough, when you were drained of all things good and vital and had only the strength it took to hold yourself. For now, you could play confident. “Tell me, would it be worth the time it’d take to hang a crucifix?”

You felt his weight on the plush of your mattress, your stomach turning as he grew ever-nearer. “I wouldn’t think so. You know how fond I am of holy ground.”

It was true, you did. You’d never be able to forget the night he first cornered you, the hours you spent pinned against the alter of an empty chapel as a beast you’d mistaken for a man buried his teeth in your neck and he forced his body into yours. For as long as he’d tormented you, you’d thought that night would be your final one, that he’d split you open and eat you alive before the sun ever rose, but here you sat, alive and breathing and still completely in the dark as to why he hadn’t devoured you, why he hadn’t left you in the same decrepit state as the rest of his mortal victims – a dried husk, barely a shell of a corpse left in a gutter or alleyway to be found by some poor soul the next morning. Your only guess was that he took more joy in being the ghost that haunted your every waking thought than the beast who would rip you to shreds the moment you stepped into the moonlight, and even then, it was hard to tell which fate was crueler. It was hard to tell if you were glad that he’d shown you mercy, or distraught that he'd chosen to keep you as a plaything, instead.

A bitter taste spread over your tongue. His cold breath fanned over your exposed back, and reflectively, motivated by the same instinct that propels the rabbit to writhe in the fox’s mouth, you tried to stand, to flee Miguel before he thought to bite down. You made it all of half a step before a strong arm caught you by the waist, dragging you back onto your bed and against Miguel’s broad chest. There was a throaty laugh, a flat tongue ran over the curve of your throat, and then, the fox put the rabbit out of its misery and Miguel sunk his fangs into your neck.

It hurt the same way it always hurt. The pain was sharp, hot – searing your veins as he bit into you, drawing a sharp cry from the base of your throat before you could hope to swallow it down. He held you like that for a moment, then another, your body pressed against his and his teeth burrowed in your flesh, before pulling back with a rolling growl, barely giving you time to draw in a ragged inhale before his lips latched onto his fresh puncture marks, his coarse tongue over the twin streams of blood. A thin trail of scarlet slipped past the corner of his mouth, only growing thicker as he nipped at half-healed ‘love bites’ and throbbing bruises too often abused to fade. His hand fell away from your wrist and rose to your collar, finding its way to the base of your throat and catching you in an inescapable grip, holding you steady as he drank from you. Sometimes, he let you fight it, took joy in pinning you down as you shoved and kicked and screamed, but he usually preferred a submissive meal. Tonight, he was clearly in the mood to pretend you were willing prey.

You expected him to leave after he’d drunk his fill, to pull away and slip back out of your bedroom window, but you were not that fortunate. Rather, he sunk lower, burying his teeth in the curve of your shoulder. The impact was dull, just forceful enough to bruise – meant more to mark than to maim. A love bite, in the place of a puncture wound – the former just as painful as the latter. “It’s like wine,” he muttered, the words nearly lost against your skin. You felt his hand on the collar of your nightdress, starting to drag the delicate fabric downward before he lost what little patience he still had. Before you could brace yourself, before you could think to bed him not to, your body was slammed against the wood of your headboard, his fist still wrapped around your neck, his claws still tearing at your clothes. “If I had less control, I would’ve drained you weeks ago.” His voice in your ear, his hands on your skin. He dropped lower, to your chest, and yet, you never seemed to rid yourself of the awful feeling that he was looming over you, consuming you. “You’re lucky that your blood’s not the only part of you that tastes so—”

“Please.” It was barely a whisper. Without his uncannily keen senses, it could’ve easily been lost underneath the sounds of his lips against your skin, underneath his throaty growls and stifled moans. Still, he raised his head, his scarlet eyes flickering up to meet yours as you went on. “Please, Miguel, not tonight.”

For a moment, he did not move, did not speak. You pictured, in a part of your mind you’d lost control of the day you met him, Miguel burying his talons in your chest, carving out your beating heart and making it so you’d never be able to deny him again, but the blow never came.

A small, teasing smile spread across his crimson-stained lips as he raised his head. He kissed you, the gesture gentle and lingering, before straightening his back and releasing your throat. “Not tonight,” he said, watching as you sunk into yourself. “But soon. I can’t let my amor spend their nights alone for much longer.”

You opened your mouth, but he was already gone – vanishing into the moonlight and leaving you covered in your own blood, shaking in the tatters of your nightdress, and already dreading his next visit.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere spiderverse #spiderverse x reader #across the spider verse spoilers #spiderverse spoilers #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #yandere miguel o'hara #yanderecore #yancore

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hugshughes · 5 months

Text

illicit affairs J. Hughes

Jack Hughes x fem!reader

synopsis - You were his secret, and you loved it until you realized why he really kept you one.

wc - 2.6k

contains - crying, angst, no happy ending! (not for jack x reader anyway, you know i can't leave my reader hurt by boys forever), few mentions of sex but NO SMUT AT ALL!!!! manipulation, asshole!jack, cursing, drinking. let me know!

an - ugh. this one was sad, illicit affairs always hurts but this took the cake. this was smooth to write though, it came easily. the ending may be a bit rushed, i apologize. i think jack was a good person to pick for this, not that i think he'd do this, but it was easier to make him that way than who i was gonna use for this song before. ANYWAY, hope u love as always, thank you for reading!!!

make sure nobody sees you leave. hood over your head, keep your eyes down.

Jack had texted you. "I'm parked at my usual spot." Said usual spot was in the dark back corner of the parking lot for the apartment building next to yours. You sighed, you felt bad. Your stomach had a deep feeling you couldn't shake.

It was almost midnight, the only time he ever wanted you. Far after the sun had gone down, so nobody could ever have the chance to see you two. The last time you saw Jack, he was gone when you woke up and you just cried and cried.

You had realized that you weren't a secret because he just liked his life private like he told you. You were a secret because he would never want to be seen with you. Not even after spending almost a year of your time on him.

He emphasized his text, and you still sat on your couch, thinking about whether or not you even wanted to see him. Your makeup was done, your hair looked beautiful, just for him to take you back to his apartment, and not act like he knew you until you were safe within the walls of his bedroom.

tell your friends you're out for a run, you'll be flushed when you return.

You thought back to the night of the last time you saw him. It was one of your closest friend's birthday party, and you were having so much fun, until Jack texted you at 10:30 pm, asking to come pick you up.

It was like he had a spell on you, like you would do whatever he asked, for the hope that he would see your devotion and decide to make your relationship serious. Because Jack wasn't your boyfriend, but he acted like it. He acted like it when he would lose a hockey game and text you, saying he missed and even loved you, saying he needed you.

take the roads less traveled by. tell yourself you can always stop.

Back to the birthday party. Jack wouldn't stop texting you, telling you he missed you so much and couldn't sleep without you. You caved in, leaving the party early, telling the birthday girl you had an early morning and needed a good night's sleep. Jack picked you up, all smiles, leaving kisses on your cheek, holding your hand.

He held your hand on the way up to your apartment, and the hope you felt was unmatched. You thought this was the moment he realized how important you were to him. But then you woke up, alone and cold, with nothing but a text saying, "Left when you fell asleep, meet up sometime next week?" It completely ruined you.

You had met Jack at a party, it was a black tie for New Year's Eve and you had immediately caught his eye. He went up to you first, you honestly hadn't even noticed him. He acted very interested in you, talking to you for hours until the clock struck midnight, and he had made you feel special. You let him have your phone number that night, and it was the flap of a butterfly's wings that created the typhoon.

what started in beautiful rooms, ends with meetings in parking lots.

As time went on, Jack started to treat you worse, he expected more from you. You knew you couldn't expect anything from him, though. He was the hotshot playboy of the NHL, and you were simply a girl. A girl he could pick and choose when he wanted because if you did something wrong, there were hundreds more lined up waiting.

and that's the thing about illicit affairs. and clandestine meetings, and longing stares. they show their truth one single time.

You could never really tell if Jack's words were genuine. He was so hot and cold with you; so much so that it was more like scalding and freezing. If you ever asked him anything near that topic, he would shut it all down immediately. He reminded you he wasn't your boyfriend, then would try to ease the sting by telling you he loved you. He was the first boy to ever tell you he loved you, and it hurt every time he did.

He was just two different people. The guy you got during the night, when he was craving someone, and the guy he really was. He didn't love you, you knew it. He knew it too. But oh how you wished he loved you. You never loved him though, how could someone love a man who only ever cared for you when there was no threat of anyone else knowing?

It was worse during the summer. He was away for almost two months then came home and expected you to come running back, then got angry when you didn't. And even after all the anger, and the red flags, and the secrecy, you couldn't stop, even though you promised yourself you could if you wanted to. You wanted to. Jack was like your drug, an addiction you couldn't get through life without.

but it dies, and it dies, and it dies, a million little times.

He was a liar. That was what you knew. You knew he couldn't love you. If you love someone, you show them, you make them feel loved. Jack never made you feel loved, he did the opposite most of the time. You remember sobbing the first time he told you he loved you because he left you alone in your bed in the middle of the night just minutes later.

leave the perfume on the shelf, that you picked out just for him. so you leave no trace behind. like you don't even exist.

You remember the time he asked you not to wear your perfume when he picked you up anymore. He said it made his car smell like you and one of his friends had asked why it smelled like perfume. He couldn't stand the thought of anyone knowing you existed with him, that much was obvious. He wanted to live a double life, one with you, and one with every single other part of his life.

He would tell you not to follow him on social media, not to tag your location in posts if he did, and not to tell your friends about it. It made you miserable, and your friends could tell something had changed in you.

take the words for what they are, a dwindling mercurial high. a drug that only worked the first few hundred times.

You knew you couldn't keep doing what you were doing with Jack. You knew he'd run you dry eventually. That he'd push you to misery and you'd have to leave him. You just held out hope that one day maybe he'd love you the way he said he did.

and that's the thing about illicit affairs. and clandestine meetings, and stolen stares.

One night he got really angry with you, and you thought you'd never see him again. With the way he treated you, you got to the point where you thought that maybe he had a girlfriend he was cheating on with you. It would've made the secrecy make sense.

You had sat him down and asked him if you were the other woman in his relationship. And he flipped on you, he was angry you thought he would ever do something like that. He shouted at you for the first time, he said things insinuating that you were sleeping around, not being "loyal" to him, and just wanted to spread your guilt to him.

It couldn't have been farther from the truth, he was the only man in your life. He was the one man you had ever let see you in the ways he saw you. The only boy you'd ever slept with. Then the next day he showed up at your apartment, a hood over his head and sunglasses covering his eyes, but nonetheless, he was holding flowers, and that's all you could focus on.

they show their truth one single time. but they lie, and they lie, and they lie, a million little times.

You snapped out of your thoughts when your phone started ringing. Jack was waiting for you, he had texted you twice now, and was currently calling you. You jumped to answer it.

"Hi."

"Hey? What are you doing? I'm here to get you."

Every word he said was like a stab to the stomach. You were past the point where his words comforted his bad actions. It all just hurt now.

"Um, sorry you came all this way. I don't think I'm feeling up to it tonight."

He scoffed pulling his phone from his ear to stare at the phone, then put it on speaker.

"What do you mean? Are you like mad at me or something? You seemed fine half an hour ago."

"Yeah um no, I mean I just don't feel great right now, and would rather not have a fast fuck at your place then get an Uber home."

You said it, you kind of couldn't believe you did. You felt proud of yourself for it. You finally called him out, even if it was just a little bit.

"Oh, so you are pissed at me? Baby, what did I do?"

Baby. It's what he called you when he wanted to get his way. You knew right now he was hoping you would just brush off your feelings and come get in his car.

and you wanna scream, don't call me "kid". don't call me "baby".

"No Jack, stop. Don't call me that. I don't-"

"What is your problem?! I didn't do anything wrong between thirty minutes ago, when you were sending me fuckin' heart emojis tellin' me you couldn't wait to see me, and now!"

You could feel the tears pricking in your eyes, the pain in your chest was overwhelming now. He just didn't understand how it felt to be cared for when it was convenient, because you always cared for him, part of you probably always would.

"I just can't do this fucking situationship we have anymore! You are ruining me, Jack. You are making me miserable, you only care about me when you feel like it, and you tell me you love me when you don't. You're making me crazy! And I just let you because I still for some stupid reason am holding out hope that one day you'll stop for a second and realize that you want me to be more than a late-night hookup when you're feeling bad about yourself!"

look at this godforsaken mess that you made me. you showed me colors, you know i can't see with anyone else.

You were sobbing, shouting at Jack through the phone. He was stunned. He was truly speechless.

"I- Shit, Angel, you know-"

"No! Stop! You do this shit, you make me feel special then you rip it out of my hands, you remind me that I'm just one of many girls who'd be forever lucky to be a doormat for you! You have made me fucking hate myself. I have never been less happy in life than I am right now, and it's because of you.

"You've forced me to create this secret life that revolves around the hope that you'll call me and tell me to walk down the street where your car is parked waiting for me in the middle of the night, just far enough so no one would ever see you."

Jack was forced to look back on all the shit he'd put you through over the past 11 months. He never really considered your feelings, not as often as he should've. He used you, he manipulated you, he made you depend on him.

"Shit, Jack. I just, I can't do it anymore. The secrets, lying to my friends, for someone who couldn't give two shits if I never saw him again. I've become someone I don't even like anymore."

don't call me "kid". don't call me "baby". look at this idiotic fool that you made me. you taught me a secret language, i can't speak with anyone else.

Jack was dumbfounded. He hadn't realized he was hurting you that bad. He hadn't thought for two seconds about how the regulations he'd put in place in your relationship would affect you. He just wanted to have someone when he needed someone, and not have to deal with the emotional turmoil that came with a committed relationship. He didn't realize you had all of that emotional turmoil on your shoulders.

Jack didn't realize it then, nor would he at this moment. But in the weeks, months, and years ahead, he would realize how important you really were to him. How much your presence really did comfort him. How lucky he was to have you. How he did love you.

"I- I'm sorry, I guess. I just, this is crazy to be honest."

You sighed, that response just confirmed everything. He never really cared, so why would he now? The second you hung up the phone he'd be able to find another girl in a matter of minutes, if he wanted to.

"It's fine, whatever. But um, yeah just lose my number Jack."

"Yeah, alright. Um, bye?"

You hung up the phone and immediately started crying again. Did he know all he had to do was fight for you? Did he know you would've stayed? He probably didn't care either way. He didn't need to fight for anyone, not when he could have someone else who didn't need any reassurance, who didn't care if he was invested in them or not, who could just be used for sex and comfort when needed and not bat an eye.

and you know damn well, for you i would ruin myself,

You felt that now you could finally breathe. The weight of him was lifted from your chest. You immediately called your best friend, telling her to come over as soon as possible, and even though it was midnight, she came. You explained how the last eleven months you'd been consistently seeing a guy who'd only wanted you in secret, and how you'd just broken it all off with him. She comforted you, and wasn't mad at you for lying, not when you'd explained it.

You started a new chapter of your life, one where you focused on your own happiness. The chapter could only last about a year though, because at a New Year's Eve party on December 31st, 2024, you met a man that one day you'd marry, have his kids, and love till death. Maybe not all relationships that begin on New Year's Eve are bad.

Jack had realized his faults and thought about them often for the next year or so after you broke everything off with him. He'd realized you were someone he should've appreciated more, and loved on more. He wished he would've changed his ways and fought for you, but was glad you were probably finally happy.

a million little times.

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lleldey · 1 year

Text

The Deepest Marks of Essence

Description: When you found yourself circled by a tribe, you never thought it would lead you to tap into your deepest wants and desires. You are the oldest child, the example of how one should act at all costs, but if you ever manage to escape this maze and if your story ever becomes told, you’ll never be looked at the same. But it’s hard to regret it when your nights are spent with gentle caresses and starry midnight skies. You got everything you secretly longed for, but at what cost?

Warnings: a tribe, use of weapons, yelling, mentions of wounds-blood, JK is a yandere, mentions of people dying/killing, smut, use of psychedelics, if I missed any, please give me a shout!

Word Count: ~18.7k

One-shot..?

A/N: Ha, this is a logner one, but I hope you enjoy it, also it’s not proofread (yet) ! ; it’s centred on world-building and MC’s emotions/feelings, so, friendly suggestion, I’d say feel it through, even if it takes a bit longer, that way it will make more sense :)

!In no way of shape and form do I think this is how Jungkook acts in real life, this is pure work of fiction, so if you choose to read it, please keep that in mind!

“Remind me, why do I ever listen to your crazy ideas?” you huff and shoot daggers to your way too happy brother. Spending vacation in midst of a jungle was never your idea, but your brother kept nagging you, and you’re sure no one would be able to refuse his big, puppy-dog, begging eyes.

“Because you love me,” he cheekily sends you a wink, “and also, this is fun!” he happily throws his hands in the air, “Listen to the nature, feel the breeze, the fresh air.” He dreamily closes his eyes, all while you’re close to throwing a rock at him.

You’re tired, the backpack keeps digging in your shoulders, there’s a small rock in your sneakers, and mosquitos keep biting your sweaty skin. You keep reminding yourself the hike will soon be over, judging by the markers on trees you’ll be happily back in the comfort of your car in an hour.

Taehyung opens one eye, and disapprovingly shakes his head, “You’re no fun,” slightly offended you shoot back, “And you need to find friends, this is the last time you’ll ever get me to do this.” High pitched buzz nears your ear, and you unhappily swat another mosquito.

“Jesus’, Bee, look how tense you are. Perhaps I need more friends, but you surely need a boyfriend,” annoyed, by both his words, and the overused childish nickname, you roll your eyes, looking at your younger brother unimpressed, “Or perhaps a one-night stand?” he presses his lips, holding in his laughter all while you slap his neck traumatized by the change in topic.

You’d like to keep your love life solely to yourself, and as far away from your brother’s praying eyes as possible. You refuse to acknowledge the hidden truth in his words, always being a bit jealous of his lifestyle; loving with no strings attached, diving into the moment, and letting one’s mind free. Something that you, the oldest child, and a woman, cannot afford to do.

But that’s your secret to keep, sure that if he ever got to know of it, he’d never let it go. Silently, you follow his lead while he giggles in front of you. “You’re missing the beauty of life, open your eyes and be free” he exaggeratedly points, and you stare at him, wondering if he managed to get stoned while you were busy fighting mosquitos.

You open your mouth ready to reply, but your words catch in your throat, as you come across a lookout, trees clearing a patch to see the beauty of the jungle; treetops swaying in the wind, mountainy greenery shining in the warmth of the sun.

Taehyung whistles besides you, both of you stunned from the beauty in front, “Take a picture of me,” he hits your arm, all while not taking his gaze from the scenery. You grab your phone while he runs closer to the edge to pose.

“I’m not sure if this is the best way to spend battery in the middle of nowhere,” you mumble and note how your phone is still out of service. When you look up, your breath shudders and you hiss, “Don’t stand so close to the cliff,” Tae only gives you a cheeky smile and poses while flexing his muscles. Apparently, you’re the only whose been taking notes of the warning signs all around.

“Aw, is my big sissy worried about me?” he coos, and you roll your eyes while clicking the photo. You go to check the gallery, but his cocky words make you look up, “See, it’s safe,” he takes a step closer to the edge, and your previously stiff shoulders go rock hard.

It’s a matter of a second, he looks over the edge of the mountain, and in a blink of an eye, he trips and the ground beneath his feet crumbles. You don’t even manage to scream, one second, he’s looking how steep the slope is, and the next he’s falling.

Your body moves on its own accord, and you lay pressed to the ground, looking over the edge trying to find him. Panic leads your body, and without a single doubt in your mind you run alongside the edge, trying to find a place to rush down the mountain.

Branches cut your skin, but you don’t stop and run down the steep hill, calling his name, hoping to god he’s all right. Your feet fail you, and your body goes tumbling down the hill, stopping only when you crash into a tree.

You groan at the impact, and press your hand against your head, curling in due to the pain. Your palm is stained with blood, and you feel dizzy when you try to get up, pressing most of your body weight against the tree.

“Tae?” panicked, your voice breaks and lips tremble. All you see is greenery all around you, hopelessness seeps under your skin, and you realize – you’re all alone, hurt, and in the middle of nowhere.

Hanging onto the last bit of sanity, you fish out your phone, and sigh in relief when it turns on, only screen suffering the impact of your fall. But your relief is short lived, there’s still no zone. You look back up the slope, the trees stretch across the horizon, and you know there’s not a chance you’re leaving your little brother behind, you have to find him.

Perhaps it’s the adrenaline, but you don’t feel pain, only discomfort as you keep wandering the jungle. “Tae, where are you?” you shout as loudly as you can, hoping against all odds he’s conscious.

There must be an angel guiding you, as you swear you hear something down the hill. Doing your best to speed up your steps, you rush towards the sound, looking all around to make sure you don’t miss him lying somewhere.

The first thing you see, is a bruised hand reaching up to grab a branch, and once you hear your name echoing with the wind, relief floods your system and you run towards him, not caring if you fall.

“Oh my god, Tae!” you fall in his embrace, ignoring how he grunts when you throw yourself in his arms. “Thank you, thank you, thank you for being alive,” you press his cheeks together and search for injuries on his body.

That seems to be an easier task than to find none – his clothes are fully teared up, skin dirtied in mud, and blood seeping from his skin, but once you detect that there’s only nonlife-threatening injuries to the eye, your relief turns to rage.

“What the hell were you thinking,” you shoot him daggers, and hit his chest, “You’re a complete idiot!” he doesn’t fight your attacks, only presses his head against the tree trunk.

“What are we supposed to do now?” His trembling voice awakens you, and you press your lips together, “Can you walk?” he winces once he puts weight on his leg, which on further inspection looks in an unnatural position. His hiss tells you as much, but you help him stand up, no other option running through your mind, you’re not about to leave him here.

You wrap your arms around his body, and help him take a step forwards, “This is pointless, you don’t even know where we’re supposed to go,” he hisses with a labored breath. You choose to ignore his statement, praying that there’s another group of idiots wandering the jungle.

Soon you’re dripping in sweat, carrying most of his body weight; ignoring your own pain turns out harder than you hoped it would be. You don’t take your eyes off of the sky, it being your only source of solace, but when it starts to turn darker and Tae keeps grunting in your ear, you finally decide to stop.

Carefully, you rest him against a tree and grab your phone hoping that the signal might appear. But when the bar is still the same, you turn to Tae asking for his phone, “Lost it, when I fell.”

You try to keep yourself together, be the responsible one to whom everyone turns for help, but truthfully, you’re close to falling apart. You’ve been stumbling in wilderness for too long, and you’re painfully aware that the time is closing in on you.

In matter of minutes, you’ll be the prey for darkness, and as beautiful as the jungle is, it’s also home for predators waiting to sink their teeth in your skin. With every scrunch of a leaf, you search for the hidden animals, praying, that this isn’t the way you go. And if it is, you swear, you’ll haunt your brother till the end of times.

You open your barely standing backpack, and throw a protein bar at him, if you know one thing, you’ll need strength to survive this night. You’ve no sense of direction, hopelessly stumbling near the hill, hoping there’s a way to go up.

Tae starts to refuse the snack you’ve thrown, but one dark glare thrown his way shuts him up; he understands this situation is his fault, and now is not the time to cross his older sister. You rest your head against the tree, and try to gather strength to carry on, but at this point, even the birds have silenced their chirps, no sense of life surrounding you.

But when all hope seemed to be extinguished, a thud, like a stone being thrown, sounded behind you, and not even a second later a swarm of birds flew over your head. Both of you freeze, and you train your ears to the direction of the sound, wondering if an animal has already noted you as their prey, or perhaps~

Dare you even wish, is that a person?

You look backwards and try to see anything from the depths of trees, and you swear you heard soft whispers. Your body surges with a newfound sense of survival, and you quickly turn to Taehyung, “I think I heard someone,” He skeptically looks over your shoulder, and you follow his gaze, trying to hear something more.

Silence welcomes you, no words heard, but still hanging onto the last bid of hope, you convince yourself that every branch break comes from someone. Quickly, you turn to him once more, and shove your backpack in his arms.

“There’s someone there, wait for me here,” but he grabs your hand and looks at you as if you’ve lost your mind, “That could be an animal, don’t.” but you shake your head, even if it is an animal, you’d rather die trying.

“But what if it’s not?” he stops and stares reluctant, “Here, take this,” you press your phone in his hands, he furiously shakes his head and desperately tries to catch your gaze, “Just in case. Wait here, I’ll come back.” You promise, but you’re not sure if that’s one, you’ll be able to hold.

You might be walking into a den of a predator, but that’s a chance you’re willing to take. Before you submit to your fate, you embrace your brother and hold him close, hoping that the angel looking after you, will not leave you this time around.

Squaring your shoulders, you turn to where the sound came from and carefully go towards it, quietly enough to hear if it comes around once more. You’re clumsy with your steps, half dragging your legs, but the further you go, the more on edge you feel, every little sound feeling like an upcoming attack.

Just when you’re about to turn around, you hear it~

Adrenaline courses through your system and you close to run towards the sound, perhaps if you were less desperate you would have waited, listened more, and checked if there’s no danger, after all, you are a woman estranged in depths of nowhere.

But once you see shadows of people, you can’t help but scream as loud as possible, only thought running through your mind – you’re saved.

The group of people stop, and alarmed turn towards you, shouting something back, but you’re too elated on seeing a live soul, that you don’t stop to overthink that’s not a language you recognize, and even less so the clothes they wear.

“Help! You have to help me!” breathless you cry out, all while stumbling closer to them, “My brother, he’s injured! We got lost, please help us,” their shouts only increase, but you run closer, deaf to their aggressive tones.

You stop only when the first spear lands near your legs.

Alarmed, you look up, and take in the situation you unknowingly put yourself into. Around fifteen men circle you, their hands threateningly hold up weapons aimed at you, faces stoic and lips shouting words you cannot comprehend.

Your knees tremble once you realize the danger, and slowly you put your hands in the air, flinching at every shout directed at you. With shaky eyes, you look over every man circling you, but the weapons facing you only make you shrink in on yourself further.

The words they shout are foreign, and one look at their clothes makes you realize just what you’ve stumbled upon. Looks like your angel has truly left you estranged, as you’ve stumbled up on the deadliest pack of predators you could’ve.

A tribe, a group of wild, uncontrolled individuals that live by their own rules and fears. A group of individuals who see you as a treat. Your knowledge of them is sparse, but one thing you do know – keep away from them at all costs, and if you ever stumble up on them – run.

But running isn’t an option now, no matter the situation you're in, you know you won't get through the night without their help. That is, if they let you take as much as a step towards them, before they pierce you with their bows and spears.

Your hands tremble in fright, and you assess the group around you; they point their weapons at you, not a single ounce of sympathy present, just blind rage and fear. Slowly they start enclosing in on you, alarmed you turn your head in all directions, till your sight lands on a man right before you, not shooting daggers at you, or even more so – not holding any weapons. Just looking at you with scrutinizing eyes.

With hands still in the air, you don’t break eye contact with the man, and quietly start all over again, “My brother is hurt. And we need help.” You keep your voice calm, even though every nerve in your body is working overtime. But your voice doesn’t calm the situation at hand, from your peripheral vision you see someone jumping closer to you, pushing their dagger dangerously close to your skin, probably trying to scare you away.

You close your eyes, and repeat what you’ve already said, hoping that the language is easy enough for them to understand. But as much as you’d like it to be true, you doubt they understand single word coming out of your mouth, their shouts continue to increase, even after you quieten your voice.

Desperately you lock your gaze with the man in front, his eyes burn your skin, but he’s the only one who doesn’t shout or threaten you; “Please” you whisper, overwhelmed, your eyes fill with tears.

He doesn’t move, only carefully observes you; he scans your trembling body, the longer he looks, the more his eyebrows furrow, and with each passing second you feel as though your last hope is dying out. Before he manages to join the rest in their hatred towards you, you overstep every violent shout of common sense, and quickly step closer to him.

The yells all around you increase to a deafening volume, and you see how the man in front of you freezes in caution. Perhaps you should back away and leave the terrified group alone, but the fear of your brother being hurt combined with you both being tired and lost only serves to increase your growing panic, all sensibility lost – your body driven by impulse.

You don’t know what you were thinking, wouldn’t be surprised if you weren’t thinking at all, but in a matter of second, you grab his hand, and hold it tightly in your arms.

If beforehand your every movement caused a burst of shouts and energy, now it turned deathly silent. His muscles contract under your touch, but you don’t let him pull away, rather bring his hand closer, intertwined with your own, over your heart.

Your actions bring panic back to life, but before they manage to grab you, the man in front of you raises his other hand, and as if following a silent command, everyone stops their movements. He doesn’t break your eye contact, and you’re sure, if not for his authority, you would’ve been a goner.

“Hurt,” you softly whisper, but his eyes continue to search yours, so you try again, and bring your intertwined hands to your forehead, where the bleeding gush from the fall marks your skin, “Hurt.”

A flash of understanding lights his eyes; you see it in his face, he recognizes what you’re saying, and against your better judgment, hope slowly starts to return. You move to point backwards where Tae awaits you, but all it takes is for you to break eye contact, for his hold to tighten around your hand.

Alarmed you turn back, painfully aware now is not the time to scare-off the only person who seems willing to listen. “Hurt” you point backwards, his eyes follow where you’ve pointed, but he doesn’t move, his gaze simply returns to yours, as if awaiting your next movement.

“Help,” you point behind you, but he seems satisfied staying where you’re at now. His hand goes to smooth down your, surely, nest of a hair, with slight intrigue enjoying the smooth texture.

He doesn’t seem bothered by your presence, taking his time, and exploring your features; but the longer you spend under his analyzing gaze, the darker it gets, and the alarming thoughts of your brother being unarmed and under natures free will leaves you antsy.

You don’t want to come off as rude, and scare them once more, but his touch feels more and more patronizing – you, standing here, in relative safety, all while Tae’s probably going out of his mind, scared for both you, and the prawning predators waiting for their shot.

“There,” you try again, antsy of the ignorance your disheveled state brings them, “Help, there.” You point to where Tae awaits you, and try to catch the domineering mans attention, but it turns out to be a harder task than initially anticipated.

He looks utterly content, but your older sister’s gene kicks in, and you pull his hand towards you while stepping back, “Help.”, more determent you repeat. From your peripheral vision you see the man all around you anxiously move, but you don’t break your gaze from the man in front of you, having a sense that this is a test of ones will.

He sees you’re not backing down, and once you take another cautious yet determined step backwards, he sighs and tilts his head as if overthinking his decision. He doesn’t seem frightened, or angry, rather annoyed.

For the first time you hear him speak, and you’d be willing to do close to anything to understand what exactly the words are falling from his lips. But judging by everyone’s lost facial expressions, it’s not something they want to hear.

You watch how one of them huffs and says something back, but the unresponsive and domineering look the man in front of you shoots him makes him lower his head and stop what he was saying awfully quick, almost as if in submission.

One thing for sure, the man whose hand you’ve grabbed holds some sort of authority; you’re quick to gather the inner pieces of the tribe’s dynamic, and thankfully you’ve managed to acquire some sort of bond with the one who holds the power. But limelight brings its own shadow, and you realize that one misstep or act of disrespect, and a ‘yes’ from the man in front, for your head to hang on their spears.

His domineering gaze doesn’t reach you, when he turns his head, relaxed he nods, and that’s enough of an approval for you to turn around and lead them back to your brother. Your mind drowns in tsunami, trees blend together, and you hope this is the right path you came from.

Your legs are wobbly, whether it’s due to exhaustion or the fall you don’t know, but you do note how quiet their footsteps are, barely even heard, whereas you’re stumbling through every branch, the mysterious man’s hands coming into clutch every now and then, when gravity seems lost on your body, and you’re about to facepalm the dirt.

The further you go, the more panicked you become, the walk didn’t seem so long when you first came, and your throat hurts in agony of you silencing your screams in search of your brother, remembering how raised voices frightened the group of dubious men.

Unknowingly, you’ve grabbed the mans hand iron tight, it being your only source of groundedness. You feel his body becoming more tense the closer to the cliff you go, they probably don’t wonder so far off, possibility of meeting other people too big of a threat.

You search for your brother through the dense woods, praying he’s somewhere around; you wouldn’t put it past yourself to be going in the wrong direction all together, greenery all around too confusing and similar for any sense of direction, your only hope being broken branches every now and then.

You stop in your footsteps once you hear a new sound in the overall quietness, something akin to a person groaning. Your heart beats violently in your chest, and everyone stops all around you, painfully alert to any possible danger.

But when you hear your name being whimpered by no one else but your brother, you don’t stop to overthink and drop the man’s hand, shouting after Tae and run forwards. Adrenaline over washes any pain – something you’ll worry about tomorrow – your shouts for your brother increase and your speed increases once you think you see his t-shirt shining in between trees.

But you don’t get any further, a strong force pushes you back into a hard chest, and you find yourself caged in the arms of the unknown male. You turn your head to him, and desperately point to where your brother’s voice is coming from and press “Help”, but all you’re met with is his heavy breathing, probably from chasing after you, and domineering gaze that requires obedience.

Tae stumbles fully into your sight, he was probably worried sick about you, and tried searching you; you see how his body freezes and he fearfully takes the sight in of men standing in ready-to-attack stances pointing their weapons at him.

Your last remnant of control breaks once Tae’s voice cracks as he close to whispers your name in fear, and no matter how strong or willed the man caging you is – he’s no match for a desperate woman.

You trash in his hold and scratch his skin, till you find one millisecond of his guard down for you to detach from his arms and run to your brother. You’ve no clue what Tae sees behind you, but he stumbles back in between all shouts and falls in dirt.

Exhausted yet relieved you drop to your knees and grab his face in your palms, “They will help you, please don’t fight it,” quickly you rumble, fearful the man will grab you away from your brother once more, “That’s a tribe” Tae looks terrified, a feeling you can much relate to, but the relief of him being alive and in your arms is too strong, and your eyes overflow with tears and you hug him close to your body, “Thank god you’re alright” you cry out in his shoulder.

To no surprise, a hand grabs the back of your jersey, and pulls you apart from Tae. Your teary gaze is met with the mans domineering one, and you practically feel fumes coming out of his ears when he firmly positions you behind his back.

He holds your waist with one arm, and in the other his spear, you can’t control your tears, probably due to the exhaustion and fear the last hours brought you. You’re pressed so close to his back you’re sure he feels your tears on his skin, and only when he says something to the men waiting for his command, do you realize how tall all of them are.

You try to look over his shoulder to see what’s happening, but you notice only small glimpses of Tae being surrounded by men and how he tries to scoot back. “Tae, don’t! They’ll help you” your voice wavers, you’re not sure of their intentions, but you have to hope that they will help. He stops struggling, and lets the men enclose him to look at his injuries.

Your head is stumped with all the emotions, and when the hand around your waste detaches to point something to the other men, you allow yourself to step back and sit against a tree trump, half-watching how their hands skim over your brothers’ legs to see whether he’s able to walk.

It’s a good minute of them looking over Tae’s injuries, you see one of them grab your backpack you threw in your brothers’ arms before searching for help, and thankfully Tae doesn’t fight them, and quickly gives whatever they ‘ask’ if you can even call it that. Fear hasn’t left his eyes, there’s still a chance they will take your stuff and leave you stranded, they didn’t seem happy of your presence - all you can do is hope.

You note how with such ease they open the backpack as if they do so regularly, perhaps they are a tribe, but dumb they are not, now looking at them you might even say they’re far more advanced than you are. Their clothes cover only their private parts, the closest thing to which you can relate it to is a leather skirt reaching up to their mid-thighs.

And yet, their bodies are resilient enough to withstand the cold and tropical weather. Wind doesn’t phase them, broad bodies standing firm and tall, whereas you’re sitting here, trembling – whether it’s from the wind or overload of emotions stays a secret.

You close your eyes in relief when you see them pick up your brother. Regardless of how hostile they were to you; they are not completely indifferent, or at least the man in control of them is. You open your eyes when you feel movement in front of you, only to be met by a hand reaching out.

When you look up, your gaze meets the man – the one to whom you’re probably indebted for the rest of your life. You take his hand in both of yours, but before he pulls you up, you say what you truly mean without breaking your gaze.

“Thank you.”

It’s a simple sentence that you’d look over regularly, but now, you put all of your soul into those two words – and you know he understands. Perhaps you don’t speak the same language, but at this exact moment you share the same truth and beat the same heart. The moment doesn’t last longer than a second, but his fingers tighten against yours and you feel the strings of an unspoken promise connecting you both.

But the moment passes as quickly as it came, you hear your brothers pained whimper and you whip your head towards the sound; you watch in slight intrigue and caution how the group of men carry him in their arms, one holding his shoulders, one his legs, and two his waist.

You don’t manage to utter a word before you’re pulled upwards, but when you balance your weight on both of your legs you hiss in pain and hold onto his arms. Now that the initial adrenaline slowly wears off, your own injuries from the fall have become visible.

The man whose name you still don’t know follows your gaze and quickly gathers the problem, you don’t have to say a single thing for him to drop his spear and bend down and inspect your foot; you see how he tries to be gentle, but on the slightest pressure on your ankle, you crumble forwards and balance on his shoulders.

“I’m so sorry” you quickly mumble in panic and straighten up, worried you’re overstepping any boundaries by touching him even if so by an accident, but he looks up and shoots you a gaze you could only describe as worried and apologetic.

There’s no time for you to react before he tuts and picks you up in his arms, the sudden movement leaving you breathless. But your alarmed facial expressions don’t phase him, and he simply starts moving forwards. You whip your head backwards to see the rest of the group following you, them carrying your brother close behind, at least some sort of reassurance filling you.

“Thank you, but you can put me down,” you turn back to the man carrying you, but you’re met with silence. “I can walk, it doesn’t hurt.” Lies, complete and utter lies. You feel your leg pulsate even without applying any pressure to it, but if you managed to walk beforehand, you should be able to do so now…right? Or is delusion truly taking over your brain?

The man holding you seems to agree, he doesn’t respond just gives you a look that screams ‘who are you trying to fool?’ that makes your shoulders drop and gaze lower in surrender. Your body is frigid, he surely feels it too, but your body is pressed so closely to his naked chest, that you swear you feel his heartbeat.

You try to keep yourself as far away as possible from his chest, but that seems to be pointless as he holds you closer when he steps over a fallen tree or ducks under a branch; you’re mortified, both from the understanding how much of a burden your presence has caused them, and also from the embarrassing intimacy the position brings you.

There is a reason why they were so scared of you, and yet they’ve overstepped it and most probably are bringing you to their shelter – their most sacred and protected space. You try to keep busy and memorize the way you’re going, after all you’ll need to follow the route tomorrow, but that seems to be harder than expected when there’s a living radiator engulfing you.

You try your best, you truly do, but your eyes betray you and your gaze falls on the arms carrying you; aside from the naked skin and natures shaped muscles you notice something else entirely. His skin is decorated in patterns, something similar to tattoos, just without ink, painting his skin in different designs. You don’t manage to explore it further, although your curiosity is spiked, as it seems he feels your wandering eyes and looks at you.

Embarrassed, you instantly avert your eyes, but you feel his gaze locking you in place. Couple of seconds pass before timidly you look up, but his gaze hasn’t moved, and your eyes meet; never before had you noticed how expressive one’s eyes are, the quiet dominance he possesses, and untold words shaping his eyes.

If you weren’t looking carefully, you would’ve missed it, but when he breaks eye contact, the corners of his lips slightly rise, almost as if he’s smug he caught you red-handed; the small detail makes you curl up even further, embarrassment too timid of a word to describe how you’re feeling.

You look up only when he starts speaking in his own tongue and slows down, and when you do, your breath is taken away. You’re not sure what you expected their shelter to look like, perhaps couple of sticks and a leaf roof; but now you’re looking at close to a small village.

Makeshift fence surrounds the self-made small houses, and from your vantage, you can’t see the end of it. People gather and cheer once they see their men returning, happy faces and children running up to greet them by the fence, but once they notice you in, as you guess, their leaders arms their cheers are overturned by worried looks and murmuring.

You watch in astonishment, not sure how the tribe has not yet been put on maps and history books, this surely is never before seen. The sparse knowledge you’ve of tribes say they consist of small numbers of people, all barely surviving the harsh ways of nature; but if you weren’t aware that you’re going into a tribe’s space, you would’ve easily mistaken it for a distant village from society.

You notice how the man carrying you moves carefully, almost as if following a pattern, avoiding certain potholes and paths. He oversteps barely visible strings, and you wonder whether that’s a trap to catch any dangerous animals threatening their home. You look over his shoulder and see the rest of the group following him in a stretched line, being just as careful as he is. It does leave you wondering, feeling as though you’re walking through a minefield.

The makeshift gate opens, and not even a full step into their territory you’ve to fight your inner need to run; everyone’s eyes are on you, a mix of fear and intrigue greeting you. You feel as though you’re a rare artifact ready to examen. More people gather, their shushed murmurs travelling with wind, and guilt bubbles in your chest knowing you’ve disturbed their reality once you notice how mothers protectively guide their children behind them.

Their gazes sweep up to the man carrying you, as if searching for some sort of consolation, and your previous hunch comes into fruition – he does hold some sort of respect within the group. Is it wrong to say you find some sort of comfort knowing the one they look up to is the one who protected you; suddenly his boundary overstepping touch doesn’t feel unwelcoming. You’ve a feeling as long as he stays on your side, you’ll be fine.

He carries you to what seems like a gathering place just before the fence, and carefully lets you down on a makeshift bench before a bonfire. You’re cautious with your movements, not wanting to scare anyone even more, but you instantly look around for your brother, slightly relaxing when he’s seated near you.

The man holds up a finger bringing your attention back to him, signaling for you to wait. Your gaze quickly goes back to your brother, who instantly meets your gaze with a concerned one, and uncomfortably you shift and point to him, “I’ll go to him if that’s alright.”

It’s pointless to expect any sort of a response from him, but he narrows his eyes and after couple of seconds of him unmoving, you testingly shift closer to Tae, all while watching his reaction. He doesn’t react, only slightly purses his lips. You feel his gaze on you, as if he’s analyzing your movements and your connection with Tae, but when you reach him, the man turns back to his people and addresses them. You take that as your que.

“I need you to stay calm, Tae-” but he doesn’t let you finish, “Stay calm?! We’re in middle of nowhere with people who might as well kill us!” you shush him and look around to check if somebody heard you; even if you don’t speak the same tongue, you know the man understood at least some words you had said.

As if it was confirmed, you notice how the man who saved you shoots you a look. “As of now, they haven’t done anything wrong,” you turn back to Tae, choosing to withhold how you were almost killed when they first saw you. “I promise, we’ll leave first thing tomorrow, but for now, do as they say and keep quiet.”

You take his hands into your own, holding onto the last bit of normalcy. He’s here, you’re both alive, you’ll be alright. “How do you feel?” after a moment you ask, his injuries don’t look too good, his skin is bruised, and if the men deemed it necessary to carry him, it can’t be good.

“Have felt better.” His dismissive tone tells you enough, and you squeeze his hand tighter, feeling extremely useless, not having a clue how you can help him. “I’m more worried about him.” Curious you look where he nods his head and see the leader stealing looks your way every now and then when his people speak.

“He’s not taking his eyes off of us.” He purses his lips in thought, “Or rather, you. I can’t forget how he looked at me in the forest, I thought he was going to kill me when you ran up to me.” You ponder over his words, you noticed how Tae fell back in fright when you approached him, but it does make sense for them to be cautious.

“Bee, I don’t think we should stay here. I don’t have a good feeling.” you try to shush him in vain, your dismissal only spurges him on, “I know this is my fault, I should’ve overthought it when I saw warnings of dangerous habitats and rumors of people going missing. But this was said to be one of the most beautiful hiking spots, so I-”

That is news to you, never before had he mentioned it to you, and you want to pry further, but one worried look thrown to the tribe and you see them already finishing their talk, people moving in different directions and the leader coming your way.

“You’ll tell me tomorrow-” but he interrupts in an exasperated manner, “We can’t stay here!” you glance at the leader and how he stops near you, far enough to not be seen if you wouldn’t be looking, but close enough to hear.

“Listen to me, we’re good.” Rushed, you grab his cheeks and strongly whisper, “We need the shelter, and they’ve been good to us. I’ll protect you.” His eyes fill with tears, and your heart squeezes seeing your brother so vulnerable, both from the injuries and fear.

You hug him and massage his back, trying to give some sort of support. You’re just as terrified as he is, but right now you have to be strong; the pressure of being the oldest child falling on your shoulders, the one responsibility you’ll never manage to evade, no matter the hardships you go through.

You notice people gathering around you, distant enough for their safety, yet close enough for you to feel enclosed. You slowly detach from Tae and get startled when you notice how the leader is standing right in front of you; it’s nerve-wracking how quiet their steps are.

A woman comes up to him, holding some sort of ceramic bowl in her hands. She’s careful holding it, and you notice she’s doing her best to not spill the liquid inside. Nerves creep back into your system when the leader grabs your hands, and helps you stand up, thus separating you from your brother.

You timidly watch how the woman hands him the bowl and he nods his head in gratitude, the exchange only further showing the respect woven within their group. He presses the bowl to your lips, and your back straightens, all caution signals awakened in your body.

The brownish-green liquid touches your lips and alarmed you back away biting back a whimper when you put your weight on your hurt leg and fearfully ask, “What is that?”. For all you know, it could be poison, Taes previous words still travel through your mind of how people have disappeared.

He doesn’t answer, just raises one eyebrow in a challenging manner. You’ve a bad suspicion you don’t have a choice in the matter, and you know for a fact disrespecting their leader would be the end of you, especially when they show such high regards to him.

And yet, you don’t know their ulterior motives. You hear Taehyungs worried voice calling you, and you know, if you refuse, you’ll put both of you in danger. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” You try your best to sound convincing, but your voice wavers, and you have to gulp down your fears and hope, hope that these people have a sense of empathy for you.

He steps forward and presses the bowl once more to your lips, and you meet his gaze with your shaky eyes and surrendered ask, “If I drink it, he won’t have to, right?”. His eyes narrow in something you can only describe as mix of annoyance and confusion; he tilts the bowl forwards and you’re met with the bitter liquid.

You try to pull away, but he tilts your head higher, and you’re forced to drink the acrid liquid, your eyes water; only when the bowl is empty, he lets you go, and you fall into uncontrollable coughs. The unpleasant taste overpowering any other sense.

Still coughing, you turn to Tae, only to see him drinking the same liquid with a disgusted expression. The taste seems worse when you don’t know what exactly it is you’re drinking. Only when Tae has finished his drink, the group of people backs up with nods of approval and seem to fall back into their daily regime.

“What was that?” he coughs when you sit beside him, but you ignore his question being lost yourself, “Do you feel any different?” you try to focus your gaze and work out what the liquid was. You’re not in any extra pain, and you’re breathing fine, you doubt it was poison.

“Not really.” He shrugs his shoulders, and you fall into silence, overthinking what just happened. Was he testing you? Is it some sort of medicine? Your mind threatened to burst from all the thoughts running through it, a migraine impending, but then, as if in a snap of a finger your mind became quiet.

A sense or serenity washes over you, where everything seems less important than it is. “Bee?” you hum back, “Those girls are reeeaally pretty.” His slurred speech makes you turn to him with a questioning gaze. He’s watching two women giggling to one another and shooting Tae inquisitive gazes.

“Are you okay?” you’re not sure how his mind can go there, when the only thing that’s on your mind is his well-being, but now even that thought seems buried somewhere far away. “Oh, I’m good.” He gives you a lopsided grin, and you let out a cackle in disbelief, you turn to the women and have to agree, they are beautiful, hair shining due to the ferocious bonfire, smiles gleaming and eyes full of mischief.

“Where are you going?” you grab his hand when he stands up, but he lightheartedly shrugs it off, “I wanna talk to them.” And just like that, he’s gone, you shout one last time whether he’s fine, after all, his skin is colored in deep purple shades, but with a slight limp he shouts not to worry.

You sit there, slightly offended of being left all alone; all you wish to do is hug your brother close and sleep off all the exhaustion, but apparently your minds work in different trajectories. Dejected you watch him going up to the two girls, his social-butterfly skills coming into play as you hear laughter coming from their way.

Your shoulders relax and you watch all around you for a place to rest your head, the wooden trunk bench hurting your back. You fixate on a tree behind you, but when you stand up, the effects of whatever you drank come full-force. Your mind can’t process the sudden movement, and you feel gravity calling your name as everything around you becomes blurry.

Stumbling, you fall against the tree and rest your head against it, head feeling dizzy; you close your eyes, focusing on breathing, but your mind is filled with pulsating waves. You don’t know how much times has passed, if you had to guess, a couple of minutes, but the presence of time is barely credible, in matter of a blink, nightfall has overtaken sky, and stars blind you.

You have to force your eyes to stay open, and when you do and try to focus on the environment around you, confusion overtakes your body; it felt like couple of minutes, but everything has changed.

Bonfire lights up everything in the near distance, people have gathered all around it, some playing home-made instruments, that you could only guess are something alike harmonicas, flutes, and drums in midst of those you don’t recognize. Benches are filled with people humming along and chitchatting. Upon further inspection, you’re sure that’s your brother sitting on a bench, trying to sing along to the unfamiliar tune and laughing with a group of girls encircling him.

You shake your head at your brothers’ doings, always been jealous of his ways of living, the way he’s capable of making connections with people he just met and enjoying every color and shade life gifts. But you’re at peace here, sitting behind them and overlooking their happiness from afar.

You’re completely relaxed and calm when a couple of unsteady feet run past you, tripping over a rock; you automatically reach your hands out and catch the little creature of happiness. Big, blue eyes gaze up at you, and your heart tugs at their adoring smile, small teeth showing through lips, probably just breaking out from gums.

“Are you okay?” you ask the small child in an amused tone, only for them to bite their fingers and giggle all while shaking their head. You realize your emotions are heightened when you’re close to crying when the little one squeezes your cheeks and babbles something that goes over your head.

The single interaction leaving you with heart fuller of love than the whole year prior, you let the child go and watch how the small beacon of light runs to a woman standing and overlooking you both with a smile on her face.

She picks him up and kisses his face as he smiles and tries to get away. You wonder why these people are so feared, when all you see is energy filled with love and happiness. You relish the warmth, not sure whether it’s due to the fire or the love and comfort filled atmosphere. Whichever it is, you relinquish in it, and find your body and mind more relaxed than ever. The feeling so sought for after all these years.

You smile when the woman holding her child comes up to you and sits down. Usually, your mind would be filled with anxiousness of how to interact with an unknown person, but now you just smile and tell her your name, completely lost of the fact she doesn’t understand a single word.

But she doesn’t have to, she grabs your hand and squeezes it tight, whole-heartedly welcoming your presence. She shoots you a smile, and right then and there you melt at the sight, her smile so warm and motherly you want to hide in her protective arms.

Your emotions come into play once more, and you feel yourself tearing up – from what you’ve no clue, but the amount of love and peace you feel is overwhelming. “Are you alright?” She laughs at your uncontrollable emotions, “I’m alright, please don’t mind me.” You wipe your tears and try to calm down, until a realization downs your mind. She spoke English.

Quickly you turn your head to her smiling frame, overjoyed of her knowing your language, completely missing the puzzle peace of how she could know English.

“You understand me! You speak English!” your elated expression makes her laugh linger; she shakes her head with a smile and pats the child’s blonde hair who very comfortably sits in her lap, “Little, our Jungookie knows best.” She points where the group has gathered, you follow her gaze to be met with the leader, finally gathering his name. He feels your gaze and instantly looks up, but you don’t waver, enthralled by the newfound information.

If your mind was working clear, you would’ve been terrified by the knowledge, not only because of the missing information of how they know it, but also from overthinking what exactly have you spoken that could incriminate you. But it doesn’t. And you’re happy knowing you’ve found someone whose roots are entangled with yours.

“You’re amazing.” You look back to her with a gaze one could only describe as being love filled, but you truly are amazed by all of them, how strong and kind they are despite all life throws their way. The woman tuts, smile never leaving for a minute, you’re not bothered by how she looks at you as if you’re a child confessing their love, you simply enjoy this moment.

Weight falling into your lap overtakes your attention, and you watch how the little one snuggles in both of your laps and stretches his little arms. “Aren’t you a cutie?” you ask only for him to shoot you his brightest smile. You tickle the little skin that shows through his cloth, and watch overjoyed how he giggles and tries to scoot away from the ticklish sensation. You laugh as if you’re being tickled yourself, his happiness extremely contagious.

The woman says something in her language to the child, and you watch how he quickly nods his head and climbs in her lap, but not before he throws his entire weight on you and gives you a hug. You’re a complete stranger to the group, and yet they’ve managed to make you feel more welcomed than anyone before.

You’re enthralled by their ways of living, and you watch how gently the woman interacts with, presumably, her child, although you note how different they look to one another. You attention is piqued when she moves her clothes to what you assume is breastfeed the boy, you quickly move your head to others, ready to move in front of her to shield her from any nasty comments and dirty looks, but when you do, no one cares.

Some women around the fire breastfeed their children, and you’re confused by the lack of acknowledgment and uninterest showed by others. But then again, you guess that some behaviors are thought.

She hums in wonder when she notices your on-guard reaction, but you simply shake your head, lost in wonder of their ways. You don’t stop the incredulous laugh bubbling through your chest and sit back against the tree in disbelief of how differently the world works for you.

“Do you often go outside of your home?” You break the comfortable silence, the question bugging your mind ever since you saw her peoples terrified expressions. She looks confused at your question, and you point outside to the forest, not sure if she understands what you’re saying.

Realization dawns upon her, and she quickly shakes her head seemingly bothered by the change in topic, “No, no, no,” her movements become more agitated, and the little one detaches from her breast from the sudden movement, “There – bad,” she fixes the cloth like dress and points to the forest, “Very, very bad, we stay here – safe.”

The question clearly made her uncomfortable, if the frown on her lips is anything to go by, whether it’s bad memories or what, but the way her tone gets agitated and her hand gestures more animated makes you lean in and nod your head in faux understanding, completely lost to the fact you might be the one they’re so scared of.

“Men go there, food.” she points once again to the forest, shiver travelling up her spine, “We here, safe. Here good.” The woke of emotions makes her loose track of English, she spurts out some words you don’t recognize, but the way she emphasizes ‘here good’, makes you believe her, as if you understand each and every word.

It does make you think how it would be to live here, her confident and pressing tone leaves you wondering whether she’s right. You watch how the little one stands up on his wobbly feet, denying the urge within yourself to help him, and runs to the group of people sitting by the fire.

You’re curious when he stops by another woman, and she takes him in her arms without a single thought and showers him in kisses. You watch the interaction and wonder which of the two women is his mother, but then again – it’s their world, they don’t hold such strict rules like you do.

The woman besides you doesn’t care, just smiles at the interaction, and shakes her head. When she gets up to leave, a weird sense of remorse overtakes you, you wish to hold out your hand and ask her to stay, surprisingly, her presence brings you comfort, but you don’t.

But by the look on her face, she knows how you’re feeling, and she pats your hair in a motherly way, and says, “Not worry. You’re not alone. Am not the only who speak to you.” Your brows furrow trying to distinguish her words, and you follow her gaze to the group, and see the leader, or as you gathered, Jungkook, looking at you. He doesn’t look threatening, the joyous atmosphere making him look younger, but his unmoving gaze makes you feel small, not sure how long he’s been watching you.

You look back to her when she hums, “Sweetie, he watching you all night.” You acknowledge her smile, although the meaning of her words travels right past your ears, “I see you later.” And with the last pat to your hair, she’s gone. You hope you’ll see her later, even if it’s just before you leave, and with a childish gleam you smile knowing you’ve made a friend.

It’s hard to control your mind, as if the pulsating ideas and emotions bubble form previously suppressed parts within yourself. Parts you longed for, but never was able to meet. Suddenly everything seems sweet, the cruel ways of life unknown.

You watch in delight how relaxed everyone around you is, the way their bodies sway to music, how gently some man massages woman’s shoulders, how in such delight someone combs their fingers through a woman’s hair, you laugh noticing how a man giggles when children surround him jumping up and down asking to be picked up. Wherever you look, you’re filled with peaceful happiness.

In day-to-day life, you’d be waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the sweetness to rot and ask for a price for the moment of happiness, but even if it does, you’d be willing to do it again just to experience these couple of moments of untainted happiness.

You must look pitiful, sitting all alone, your eyes watering with unshed tears once again, but you don’t have the means within you to blame yourself. You realize it’s probably the drink you had that’s making the walls of your heart crumble, you should be worrying of how to leave this place early morning, or even analyze the possible danger you’re facing, but your mind feels at ease, heart crumbling to vulnerability and honesty. If the gates were to open and they’d ask you to leave right this instance, you’re sure, you’d be begging to stay.

“Hi,” you sniffle and look up where the voice comes from. You freeze when you realize the leader is standing right in front of you; somewhere in the depts of your mind you know you’ve to be on your best behavior, but the emotions have taken you deep within and you meekly greet him before wiping your tears.

If you were under normal circumstances, you’d be embarrassed of someone seeing you cry, but even though your emotions are hitting all time high, your mind is at ease, as if nothing in this world could make you worried.

His brows furrow seeing your distraught state, “Are you alright? Does your leg hurt?” you shake your head in dismissal, but he still bends down and gently presses his fingers against your ankle. Stunned, you watch his fingers massaging your leg; not long ago, you couldn't properly stand, so why does his touch feel welcoming and not hurtful?

“No…it doesn’t...?” dazed, you search his eyes for an answer, but all he does is smile at your pouty lips and confused expression, “That’s good, isn’t it?” his smile is comforting, and you nod your head lost of words to say.

“Why are you crying then? Are you scared?” his hands continue massaging your leg, and you don’t even flinch when he rips the ends of your jeans for more access to your skin. You sigh at how warm his touch feels, even though he’s dressed in less layers, his skin is burning in comparison to yours, “No, no,” you shake your head, and he tilts his head, giving you all of his attention, “You just look so peaceful.”

Your eyes keep wandering to the joyous group in front of you, a weird sense of longing fills your body. You miss the way he carefully analyzes your expression, mind lost in wonders of emotions, too focused on his gentle touch and warm atmosphere.

“It’s the drink, isn’t it?” you look back at him when he hums questioningly, “That’s making me feel this way? This weird calmness when everything is just so pretty?” if beforehand you thought his smile was beautiful, now you’re ready to drown in his pearly whites, watching in childish delight how his smile grows. You can’t stop yourself and lightly trace the dimple on his cheek his hand falling over yours.

“Partially,” He caresses your hand, and gently separates it from his cheek, “It shows your true emotions,” you close to melt when he pecks your hand before laying it in your lap, both of your hands entangled, “all the repressed thoughts, desires.”

You squeeze his hand, trying to stay focused on what he’s saying, but your attention drives to his eyes, noticing how his own pupils seem dilated, and you wonder whether he also drank the liquid. “Everything you’ve tried to hide.” His hands move to your knees and unconsciously your muscles tighten, the warm contact unexpected, yet desired.

“Could I-” you bite your lip, not sure whether you should ask, but the words push past all your peripheries; perhaps you’re too comfortable, but the way his eyes stay in a permanent smile and his steady gaze fixates on you, as if nothing else is important makes your mind feel at such ease, the words escape you before you manage to overthink them.

“Could I have some more, please?” even if you’ll regret those words when haze clears from your mind, selfishly, you don’t want this moment to end; his touch is gentle, and he caresses a stray strand of hair from your face, you watch how he nods his head all while a smile spreads across his face - it’s not malicious or devious, it’s comforting.

His presence is comforting. As if there’s no bad in the world – as if you can do no bad. “Of course, you can.” You can’t even pretend to feel guilty when his actions are so validating. Without any excuses or ridicule, he gets up and walks towards the group, where you notice a pot by the fire. Only now you see the cup being passed around the bonfire, gleaming flames and shining stars illuminates the free spirit of those around you.

You notice another previously missed detail – even though his hair reaches just above shoulders, a single braid, longer than his hair, graces down his back. You watch in wonder another sign of his culture, quickly realizing that no other man shares the same detail. You wonder whether it signifies his position within the tribe.

Even though most of the tribe members you’ve seen are on the younger side, an older male, probably no older than 50, sits by himself away from the fire. You watch in wonder the lone individual, wondering why he’s the only one keeping away from his people. But what catches your attention is the same braid that decorates Jungkooks hair, only his being twice as long.

He doesn’t seem bothered, every now and then he looks up from sharpening his spear, but his eyes scream sorrow when he gazes at the youngsters mingling, and you wonder what’s hiding behind his pain.

His sorrowful eyes awaken a need for you to comfort him, and you’re ready to go up to him, before your attention is cascaded back to Jungkook who returns to his previous spot, down on his knees between your legs, only now he’s holding a cup in his hands.

You quickly divert your attention back to him, the lonesome man forgotten, and with newfound excitement greet him, as if you haven’t seen him in days, although it was a couple of minutes at best, “Hi!” your smile is contagious as you see his own smile growing.

“Long time no see,” his pearly whites press against his lips when you giggle; you’re sure he could say whatever, funny or not, and you’d still be a giggling mess. He presses the cup in your hands, and you grimace at the smell.

“I realized I still don’t know your name,” he mutters as you take a sip of the drink, trying to hold back a cough. Shuddering from the taste you look at him, “Everyone calls me Bee,” his confused expression urges you for an explanation.

“You know, like the little insects with wings,” you flutter your hands imitating flying, “Why?” you take another sip and nonchalantly answer, “Always hard-working.”

You look down at the dark liquid with a grimace, completely missing the way his eyebrows scrunch and the scowl on his lips, “How is that going for you?”, the drink works its magic, and you spit out the first thing that comes into your mind while snickering, “Awful, but you know, strong independent woman.” You smile and show off your muscles.

Your words may be harsh, but your mind blurs the meaning of them, as if you’re unable to keep anything behind closed lips and sweetened truth. “Would you like some?” you press the cup against his lips, mind flying all over the place.

Ones culture is an interesting concept, the action means nothing to you, but the way his eyes quickly zero-in on your face, puppy eyes searching whether you’re joking, must hold a deeper meaning.

He takes a sip of the drink, not breaking your eye contact. His eyes are shining in delight, from what exactly you’re not sure, but you do know one thing – whatever you just done must’ve meant something to him.

You close your eyes and feel the effects drown your mind in pulsating waves, every beat of the instruments playing in the background resonates in your body, your heart beats pressing in your chest, and all the exhaustion leaving your shoulders. You feel at peace, as if a comforting blanket is thrown over your body.

But the freer your body feels, the less in control of your actions you become. It should be terrifying, how fuzzy everything is, but you let it take control.

You feel his hand caressing your hair and hum in pleasure, “Why are you not afraid?” you slightly open your eyes and note how that feels like a task in itself, “Of what?” you tilt your head and gratefully accept the liquid when he presses the cup to your lips.

“Me.” He wipes the corners of your lips, curiosity shining in his eyes, you note how he seems more in control of his actions, whereas it’s hard for you to hold onto a single thought, “You could’ve hurt me if you wanted to, but instead you’ve taken care of me more than anyone before.”

“And if I’m being honest,” you giggle to yourself, “Even if you would hurt me now, I wouldn’t care, I’ve never felt so good.” He shakes his head at your words, “I’m not going to hurt you.” His tone is serious, and you can see he means his words when he puts down the drink and cups your cheeks.

It’s hard to focus on his words, and you know he’s doing his best to hold your attention, when he turns your head to meet his gaze, “You promise?” his brow arches at your challenging eyes. You hold up your pinky finger and giggle at his lost expression.

Unsure, he puts his pinky finger next to yours, and you wrap yours around his, “I’ll hold this promise till your dying breath, if you break it, you’ll be downgraded to a typical man, and trust me-” you beckon him closer, “That’s a veery low standard.”

He shakes his head with a smile, and you rest against the tree. You take the cup in your hands and notice another detail, “That’s pretty.” You murmur looking at his hands. Now, free of all concerns how you might look and what you should and shouldn’t say you look closer at the designs across his skin.

Uncaring, you draw your fingers against his biceps, “How did you make it?” his eyes are focused on your fingers, and you smile when you feel goosebumps covering his skin, “Knife.” His voice is noticeably deeper, and you internally wince imagining knife drawn across his skin.

“It must’ve hurt…” you outline your fingers over a spiral like bump, “Worth it if you like it.” You look up and laugh at his wide grin, he takes your hand and draws your fingers over the spiral, “This one is life cycle,”

“This one,” he notes four felixes connected by a line, “Strength.” You look over the lines, half listening to his explanations, but you notice how the shapes look only half-completed over his chest, “These aren’t finished…”

“No, no. Each section represents something, this one,” he puts your hand over his chest, “Can’t finish it yet.” The tattoos look weirdly out of place, half-started lines, and shapes, missing their significance.

He gazes at his lower arm, “This is family, and this,” he moves his bicep, “Strength. Back is for pride, and chest,” he smiles when you continue exploring the lonesome bumps, “Higher self. Love.” That catches your attention, “Love is your highest self?”

“Of course, without it you’re incomplete. One half of a whole.” You hum, not able to disagree. “Well then, I hope you’ll be able to finish it soon.” You feel his heartbeat under your palm, skin so warm, like a woolen blanket in midst of winter. “I think I will.”

His whisper goes over your head, with each passing second you feel your body slipping further into depths of your mind, and when Jungkook presses the cup final time against your lips asking you to drink up, you mindlessly follow his command.

Shivers travel down your spine, the horrid taste clings to your tongue, and you force yourself to swallow the acrid drink. “You’re fine,” he strokes your back when you cough, not sure how he’s able to drink it without any reaction.

But the feeling is worth it, almost instantly the effects pull you under, this time, twice as hard. You close your eyes and enjoy the feeling, stars dancing in your mind. Jungkooks hand detaches from your back, and subconsciously you grab it and pull him closer, a weird craving nips your body, longing for some sort of physical touch.

“Don’t do that.” You mumble with drawn eyebrows. Alarm bells ring in your mind, fear, if he pulls back the coldness will seep back in. “If I could, I’d stay here forever,” you can’t control your words, all the unconscious thoughts pouring over.

“Why can’t you?” his question leaves your brain on a pause. Truly, why can’t you? You open your eyes and see his face right in front of yours, the stars that shined in your mind shine brighter in his eyes. Now looking at him you can’t remember why you can’t stay; you can’t remember all you fight for in your day-to-day.

All of it seems pointless. Would anyone care if you wouldn’t return? Rather, would anyone notice if you wouldn’t return? The thought leaves a deep bruise over your heart, and you don’t lie when you whisper, “I don’t know.”

Be it some underlying scar, but you wish to feel something real. His body is so close to yours, yet it feels as though you’re separated by winters of seas. The small distance is freezing, and you pull his hand closer to your chest, hoping, he’d close the distance and pull you into his warmth.

The desire to feel his touch is overbearing, your eyes fill with tears of unsaid words, it’s hard to express what you’re feeling, when the emotion is so deep rooted you can’t grab onto its essence. You search his eyes, begging him to understand, but the man in front of you looks just as starved as you are, and you know, you both share the same scars.

You don’t say a word when he moves closer, you don’t need to. Same understanding fills you, and you know he feels the same. His breath fawns over your lips, defrosting years long winter, and when his lips connect with yours, all is lost, and the eternal glaciers melt with the first caress of sun.

The action seems so natural, his lips over yours at place, you don’t want him to pull back. His touch is hot against yours, his hand climbing up your thigh, and you feel as though you’re melting in his arms.

But thoughts of your brother needing you pulls you back, as comforting as his touch feels, you also know it can’t last. You detach from his lips, worry of Tae clouding your mind, but it’s hard to hold on to it, when his lips move to your neck, sinfully gliding over your skin.

“Jungkook,” your hands wove in his hair, “I can’t.” you have to forcefully mutter those words, every inch of your body screaming otherwise. But just as hard as it is for you to say it, it’s the same for him to detach from your skin.

He looks you in the eye seriously, looking for any sense of truth when he knows, that’s not how you’re feeling, “What’s holding you back?”. Your mind is in a great war with your truest self, both sides screaming one at another, and you crumble under the pressure you unknowingly cage yourself in.

“My brother. I can’t do this, he needs me.” But your words don’t ring a sense of understanding to him, he shakes his head and guides your head where your brother is sitting, “I’d say he’s doing quite well.”

His lips return to your neck, and you watch how your brother is kissing one of the women from before, completely lost in his own world, without a care of anything around him. You bite your lip when his teeth graze at a particularly sensitive spot near your jaw, it’s hard to fight against your inner turmoil when the one thing you truly long for, has fallen in your arms.

But if Tae can be free within himself, why can’t you? The high ice walls of your heart slowly crumble with each swipe of his tongue and before you know it, you cave in, and pull your legs closer against his hips.

You let him take the lead, and loose yourself in the feeling; your eyes watch how prettily stars shine on both of you, never before have you seen such pretty skies, you’re sure somewhere they’ve aligned, teaching you meaning behind unconditional love.

You don’t protest when his hands wrap around your legs and pulls you up and leads you somewhere – you don’t even care where, when his touch is the only thing, you care for. But as you’re leaving the site, your eyes connect with the lonesome man, he looks at you in curiosity, and stops sharpening his weapon, for a second you see the vulnerability in his eyes, memories travelling through the pits of his cold gaze, and you wonder, what is his story.

Darkness of night separates you from his silhouette, the further along you go, the more trust you’ve to put in the arms carrying you, you’ve lost all sense of control, but it’s hard to seek it, when it’s the first time you’ve felt no need for it.

You realize you trust him, trust him to guide you right, trust him to cherish you for this night; it’s not an easy task for someone like you, sharp walls crashing anyone who steps too close for your own safety, but you know tonight is different, when every part of you wishes to let him take control, and seep into the depths of his gentle caresses.

Time is a subordinate under his compelling will, you can’t focus on anything else but the way your hearts beat the same union; whatever he wishes and does, you’ll comply, not because of a need to be owned or told what to do, but because you know, he won’t do anything to hurt you.

He holds you tighter than the sanity of his dubious thoughts, you both know whatever this is might end up costing more than the freedom itself, but what is freedom, when the others touch brings you back to life?

Your tongues stay entangled one with another, his muscle teases you, never quite giving you what you wish him to, but never leaves you stranded. He dips his tongue over yours, but pushes it back, leaving you to seek for it more, but just when you think he’s left you wanting, his tongue entangles with your own, sharing the same passion and longing, giving you every part of his essence, the good and bad expressed with desire.

You feel your body ascending, and when you open your eyes, you see him climbing up stairs, all the houses and entangled couples looking smaller with each step, you know he’s making sure to keep you safe. His hands gripping your lower tights, pressing your body closer till your breath runs out.

Your mind solely focuses on the feeling, completely dismissing the environment around you; you feel soft furs beneath your body, only accelerating the growing warmth inside of you, never before felt combination of comfort and affection. It’s as though your minds are combined, golden strings mark your desires, growing stronger and bolder with each passing minute.

Lost in the sensation of soft touches and heartfelt kisses, you don’t notice your vulnerability beneath him; how could you notice your clothes scattered on the wooden floor, when his body heats every part within you in scorching desire, his caresses draw your mind further in the auroras of pleasure, not a single part of you left unattended and unkissed.

You arch your back, chest pressed against his, when you feel your inner emptiness filled, and your bodies finally bound; you sigh in relief, pinpointing the churning feeling finally relieved when he presses himself deeper within your walls, and wraps his hands around your body, not a single share left for the winter’s harsh winds.

His body is everywhere, inside you, around you, within you; as if every part of you is his, just as every part of him – yours. If someone told you, you’re one peace of a soul, you wouldn’t doubt it for a second; every escaped moan and curse, he catches with his lips, and every time his hips move away from yours, your hands press them back in, wrapped around his lower back, preventing the sought for feeling disappear.

But you don’t have to worry of him disappearing, for as much as your soul yearns for its mark of belonginess, his yearns tenfold. Your every touch and escaped moan awakens his untamed desire, every part of him, solely dedicated to you. He kisses your fallen tears and ruptured scars, knowing he is the one to mend them, even if it takes his own blood and tears, he’ll make sure your souls are woven together; for what he bleeds you soothe, and for what you pain, he mends.

You’re alive within the feeling, your only focus on pleasure and essence, when you closed your eyes, the darkness of nights secrets held you safe, but when you open them, beams of light showcased life’s truth. And not a single moment between them left unpleasurable.

Jungkook lays across your chest, head pressed against your breasts softly kissing your fingers, your own hand is sprayed across his back, caressing it in gentle patterns, your legs entangled with one another. The feeling of fullness hasn’t left you, and you refuse to move, all the pieces finally connecting.

Your mind is as fuzzy as ever, enjoying the warmth that comes from two people understanding each other, laying in their soft caresses and untold love confessions. Your fingers draw over the bumps on his back, and you note the small, straight lines covering his back, taking extra care to not touch the two that are still healing.

“Why haven’t you finished your chest tattoos?” your voice is groggy, and you have to clear your voice to get an even tone. He stops his movements hearing your voice, and turns his head to face you, a small smile adorning his face, completely at peace enjoying your warmth, “I told you, didn’t I?”

Your purse your lips in thought, something you weren’t able to process the first time he told you, “Well, yes. But your family loves you, doesn’t it count?” You saw the respect they hold for him first-hand, that sort of love can’t be attained by anyone, and by the looks of it, he must know it.

“It has to be your other half.” He shakes his head and kisses your breasts. “I, provide safety and strength,” he flexes his muscles, and sneaks his hands around your waist making you giggle, your skin too responsive to his touch.

“Woman provides knowledge,” he caresses your hair, “Truth,” he whispers against your chest, “Life.” He moves to your lower belly, and gently kisses the skin, not taking his eyes off of you, “We’re incomplete without a woman.”

There’s no time to contemplate his words when he continues, “We come from a woman. We’re a part of a woman. No man can ever be without his other half.”. You caress his hair, wishing that was the case in real life, but his words seem too sweet to hold truth, even your non-reliable emotions see past it.

“Then why do you hurt women?” You don’t overthink the question, it’s something that has always been bugging your mind. Such high praise, yet so little truth. But if your words don’t ring an alarm bell for you, it does for him. He lifts his head from your stomach and shoots you an unsure gaze.

“We don’t.”

“But what if you do?” You don’t mean to challenge him; no animosity clouds your words, but you’re truly curious of the way their brains work. Seeing you not drop the subject Jungkook scoots closer to you, and you hold his cheeks and send him a smile.

You watch in curiosity when he brings his finger to his lips, and sharply bites down; you’re about to question his actions but you’re left dumbfounded when he drags his bleeding finger across your forehead.

His blood marks your skin, but his actions don’t stop; he takes your hand in his own, and softly kisses your index finger before breaking the skin with his teeth. He’s noticeably gentler than when he bit his own, but your still let out a hiss from the sharp feeling.

He traces your bleeding finger across his own forehead, now both of you marked in each other’s blood before he carefully places it in his mouth to stop further bleeding. His eyes scan your mark in satisfaction, as if just proven a point, and your fuzzy brain works overtime to understand what just happened.

“No being can live without half of their soul. If you hurt it, you go along with it. Death.” His tone is serious, and your brain scrambles to form any eligible meaning behind them, but it’s hard to focus when his lips travel to your lower belly, slow with his actions, yet ever so persistent.

He shows his beliefs through his actions, and your back arches once again when his wet muscle traces your most sensitive part in gentle, but firm patterns. Day turns into night, and time into blur when all you can hold onto is passion drowning you deeper and deeper in its reigns.

For the first time you experience the meaning of love in its truest form; no laws or calculated motives color it in tantalized obligations. Even if it’s taken from you tomorrow, you know it has engraved itself in the depths of your soul; you know you’ll spend forever trying to find someone who’ll manage to fill even half of your desires like Jungkook could. Someone who’ll manage to show you love even half as passionate and true like he has.

But for now, you’ll enjoy the fleeting moment, and dive deep into the pits that is Jungkook, letting him caress your every curve, and kiss your imperfections like the treasure gold. Because it is just that, nothing less than a treasure you spend your whole life searching for.

You’ll allow him to love you like no other, hold you close like the other part of him, because even if it’s just for today, he is that to you, he is the one who kisses your scars and melts your fears. He is the one, you’ll be longing after your whole life. But that’s okay, because his arms are the first to protect you from winters frost and throwing spears, he is the one you’ll have to leave for your long last fears.

Never before have you awakened so refreshed. As if every part of your body, every nerve and muscle, has had a restart. The sound of birds chirping makes you open your eyes, your still half-asleep mind trying to understand what’s happening. You stretch in the make-shift bed, covered in furs and wool, warmth surrounds your body and light floods in through the cracks in the wooden walls.

You prop yourself up on elbows, it takes you a minute to understand where you’re located, but when you do, and your mind is clear enough for some understanding to flood in, you freeze in shock. Quickly you look around, and relieved breath out realizing you’re the only one in the make-shift house.

You plop back onto the bed and drag your hands over your face; you’re not sure how to feel about everything that transpired, the thought alone of everyone seeing you and Jungkook making out horrifies you. Taehyung saw you. He will never let you live it down.

You groan in embarrassment; you’ve utterly failed in your position as oldest sister. And you know you can’t blame it all on the drink either, after all, Jungkook did say it shows one’s inner desires, not make you act like a hormonal teenager.

In the depths of your self-wallowing, you come to an even more embarrassing conclusion – you don’t regret it. It’s hard to when your mind takes you back to his gentle caresses and sweet nothings. Your cheeks heat up remembering previous nights events. If they even were previous nights events? Through your still slightly foggy mind you recall seeing light flooding in and out.

But you do know one thing, whatever it was, was a one-time thing, and you need to leave before he comes back and the embarrassment spirals. You don’t know how you can face him; you know you’ll be awkward, and after all you weren’t the only who drank the questionable liquid, he must feel just as embarrassed as you do.

In hurry, you get up, and when you stand, you notice leaves wrapped around your previously hurt foot; your heart squeezes at the thoughtful gesture, which only further shows how much you need to leave. Now.

But that turns out to be harder than hoped to be – your clothes are nowhere in sight, so you grab a cloth hanging besides the bed, and do your best to wrap it around your body. You’re not sure how they wear it day-to-day, when you feel like one wrong move will make it fall. But then again, that’s just another example of how much you don’t belong here.

You notice a bowl of food besides the bed, carefully you touch it to see it’s still warm; that’s good, he must’ve left not so long ago. It’s hard to pint-point him as someone you should avoid when all of his actions are so caring.

It’s shame that drives you to escape his space, careful, going down the stairs, as your mind works slower than it usually does. Most of all you’re shocked by your own actions, never had you thought you’d fall victim to your desires, never had you known those sorts of desires even where part of your mind. But it does leave one question lingering, how well do you even know yourself, if you, without all the societies pressures and life’s barriers, are a stranger to yourself?

You try to rid all the unnecessary thoughts, focusing on finding your brother so you could finally leave. It’s a bittersweet goodbye when the place has thought you more about love than your whole life, but you don’t recognize yourself here, and that’s a too horrid thought to live with.

You look around the habitable, you were too out of it to notice where Jungkook led you, and this place is far too big for you to manage and find one person. Makeshift houses sit one by another, people following their daily regimes. You’re wandering around, trying to find at least one person you recognize, but the angel overlooking you has chosen to arise, when you notice the sweet woman who talked to you.

“Hi!” you call out for her; she’s talking to a slightly older woman, both standing in front of what seems to be a large water storage. She looks at you and recognition flash her eyes, and you breath out what could’ve been another awkward situation.

Your rush closer to her, but the closer you come to them, their actions stop, and they focus on your appearance, or more like, your forehead. Self-conscious you drag your fingers through your hair, you’re sure you look crazy, just woken up, hair all over the place and eyes blurry from your tumbling mind.

But they don’t look disgruntled, rather shocked, which turn to utmost happiness when you stop besides them, and they take a good look at you. You’re confused when she lightly hits the others woman’s shoulders, all while not taking her gaze off you.

“Have you seen my brother? Tae?” You look at her, hoping to gain some sort of information, but her unbreaking ‘deer caught in headlights’ gaze makes you awkwardly shuffle from one foot to another.

Their gazes meet and they fall into fits of laughter, she puts her hand over her mouth concealing a disbelief laugh but the other woman isn’t bothered to conceal her happiness, she puts her hands to the sky and chants something in her tongue.

You look confused at the woman you recognized, hoping she sees your lost appearance, but she takes a step closer to you, and you do your best to not flinch away when she drags her fingers over your forehead, light enough to barely feel.

You go to touch it yourself, but the chorus of simultaneous “No’s,” makes you stop in an instant. But you know it must be something about your forehead, their gazes haven’t left it for a second. Perplexed you move closer to the water storage and look at your reflection; to your utmost dismay, you notice on what they’re so focused on.

Instantly you dip your finger in water, embarrassed they saw Jungkooks dried blood marking your forehead. The little detail completely lost in the turbulence of previous events, all feeling like a fever-dream.

Just when water touches the mark, your hands are tightly gripped away from your skin. “No! What are you doing?” her alarmed gaze make you feel as though you’ve done something wrong, what you’re not sure.

The other woman rushes to check whether the mark got washed, but by the relief on her face you gather it had not. “Go. Jungkook.” She points back to his house, urging you to go back. “I have to find my brother.” Your stubbornness leaves them uneasy, but you press on it, and turn to the woman you recognize.

“I have to find him.” You try to convince her, “Jungkook isn’t even there! And I need to check if Tae’s alright.” You try to conceal your frustration at her doubtful gaze, not sure what’s the deal with going back to Jungkook.

She presses her lips, but finally gives in, “There,” she points to left, “He by the animals.”, grateful you quickly nod head, grateful to finally escape the awkward situation, but you guess one has to pay for their actions.

“Be quick.” She presses, and unexpectedly pulls you into her arms. Her touch is very comforting, the only problem being you don’t know what’s happening. The older woman comes to pat your head, and you see the gleam of happiness color her eyes.

A bit awkward you smile, this whole situation too confusing for your hazy mind. You nod your head, and with that, take off. You know for a fact you’ll grab your brother and leave, too embarrassed to see Jungkook like they press you to. But her words turn to be harder than hoped to, when you realize just how big their space is.

You’ve been tumbling around for at least 10 minutes, and the lingering gazes from everyone around you don’t help to ease your mind. You’re wondering whether you’re going in the wrong direction all together, but sigh in relief when animal pens come into view.

You had severely underestimated size of the tribe, their camp so vast you’ve been floundering around for a while, yet you still don’t see the end of it. You’re relieved noting how less people surround the animals, at least you don’t have to fight the urge to run from their intruding stares.

Even the animal enclosures are extensive, with slight pity you note how something similar to a clothing rack faces their pens, only instead of hanged clothes there’s different textures and lengths of hair. Unbeknownst to them, they face their unavoidable future, danger hanging in front of their eyes, and yet they wholeheartedly ignore it. One tuft of hair catches your eye, blonde, long hair flutters in the wind, and you're not sure what animal it belongs to, probably a horse, whichever it is, you choose to ignore it, and try to convince yourself that’s their destined future.

You go into a clearing, another set of stools surrounding what used to be a bonfire, something akin to the one you were at previously. And sitting on one of the stools is none other than your brother, chit-chatting with the same women he did the last time you saw him.

Relief floods through your system, grateful to see him alive and well. The whole idea of you being separated in an unknown place left you uneasy, even more so considering both of your injuries. But he looks well, smiling, red flush coloring his cheeks. No sign of the previous dark bruises and pale skin.

You’re about to shout his name when a weird beeping sound comes from your left. You almost ignore it, till you remember – you’re in a tribe. And the noise is awfully familiar to a technical device.

Your turn where you guess the sound is located to see a shed; reed roof covering it’s belonging from rain. You wonder whether you should go in and check, but the persistent noise comes once more, drawing you in.

With one last glance to your brother, you move to the shed, having an inkling feeling you shouldn’t be doing this, you feel like a fraud, overstepping some unknown laws. You look around to check no ones noticed you, and sneak in.

Light barely shines through the massive roof, you’ve to get used to the dim lighting to even understand what you’re surrounded by. But when you do, you see a table right in front of you, and on it, yours and Taes phones.

You forgot that they took your belonging from you, and you take your phone in your hands, noting how it’s more damaged than you thought, screen completely broken and to your disappointment – it won’t even turn on.

You glide your fingers over the screen, small shards of glass digging into your skin. Perhaps the battery ran out, but you were sure it worked the last time you used it. The same pinging sound comes from your left, the dark environment lit up for a second.

You turn around and freeze, considering the sight in front of you before light dims out. Phones stacked in columns rest on a table, one phone in particular hangs on its last thread, notifications of almost ran out battery lighting screen.

The sight leaves your mind fumbling, are you not the first ones they saved? Or have some tourists lost their phones and they just found them? You hope it’s the second option, you can’t see how a person would leave their phone willingly.

Doubts run through your mind when the phone tings once more, and you notice a dark, dried substance covering its upper screen. You grab the phone and press on the screen, battery has almost run out, hanging onto its last 5%.

But 5% is better than nothing. You swipe the screen, thankful for the lack of password and tilt your head in wonder when it opens to camera mode. Perhaps it’s overstepping the persons privacy, but your curiosity is spiked when the small square on the left bottom corner shows recent photos, that being of deep forest green.

It’s not right, you know it’s not right, but you still press on it. Video starts playing automatically, harsh words and screaming fills the otherwise quiet space. Startled, you pause the video and check whether someone heard you, but after a moment of silence, you turn the volume down and press play.

At first, you’re not sure what you’re looking at, the persons hands are shaking so heavily, it’s hard to pinpoint the scene. But you see knife in their hand, pointing it to someone in front, screaming. A man stands close to her and aims a gun in the same direction.

Video picks up in speed when tones increase, and words become harsher. In matter of a second, the gun is fired off, and the man is tackled to the ground. Whoever is filming cries in shock, before they swipe their knife forwards.

But it doesn’t go well, as the same second someone lunges their way, and throws them on the ground. The background is unfocused, but you see the man’s head being bashed with stone. Screaming increases in volume when the phone drops and for the first time you see the person who’s filming.

A blonde woman flails her hands around, crying, trying to get away from her attacker. But her screams are silenced when the same knife she threw is dragged across her throat. Blood splutters from her lips and the attacker lets her go.

You feel her fears like your own, when her hand reaches for her phones, and she tries to crawl away with no success. Her hands give out, and she falls under her weight, the video ends of her shiny, blonde hair drowning in blood.

It takes a second for everything to sink in, and when it does, overwhelming panic drowns you. Video wasn’t long, less than 30 seconds, but you play it again, frame by frame, trying to find anything that rebuttals your suspicion.

But to your dismay, one familiar tone of voice makes you replay it over and over again, till you find one snapshot, less than a second long, of blurry figures of their attackers. You know you can’t deny it when you capture the familiar leather clothing, and even more so, when you see a braid hanging over her attacker’s chest.

You notice another detail, when the woman tries to crawl away, a clearer picture of him appears and your stomach churns when you see him spitting on her in disgust. You know her attacker. You could recognize him any day.

Only now you don’t want to, and you try to lie to yourself and say you’ve never seen those deep mahogany eyes. Which, in part is true, his gaze brings you comfort, and peace, feeling of protection and love. But the eyes you’re staring at are nothing less than feral, deep rooted superiority and untamed rage.

It’s Jungkook.

You clutch the phone tighter when you notice another thing. Something that might save you. The single fluttering service line. You don’t waste a second calling for help, begging the line to go through. You’re scared to move, knowing how a single step might cut off the service.

But it goes through. When the line is answered you know you’re fighting against all odds, “Please help. We’re stranded in jungle, in a tribe. They kill people-” you ramble on, voice shaky, and tears falling uncontrollably. You hope you named the pathway Tae chose right, you weren’t too focused on details, and now, you hope it’s not your pitfall, “We’re going to be next, please help us!”

Person on the other side tries to speak, but their voice cuts off after every word, “Can you hear me?”, you cry out, but the line goes silent, and the battery has run out. You try to be silent, but it’s hard to conceal your cries when you realize the danger you’re facing.

You look at all the stacked phones, knowing, your ones will soon follow if you don’t get out now. There are easily hundreds of them, both the newest models, but also, ones you don’t recognize. You fear to imagine how many they’ve killed.

You run out of shed, the only thing on your mind to find your brother and get out, your gaze finds the animal pens, or rather what’s in front of them. The woman’s blond hair tainted in blood flashes through your mind. Those aren’t animal hairs, are they?

“Bee!” you hear Taes voice and quickly turn around, he’s smiling and beckoning you to come towards him. You sniffle your tears back, noticing the woman besides him watching you carefully, and put on a smile, they can’t know that you know.

You rush to him, smiling as widely as possible and ignore his snickering, “Well, well, what were you up to?” his boxy grin greets you, and you try to hold in your tears of terror, “Can we talk?” you look back at the woman and shoot her your best grin, “Alone.” You quietly force the words out, hoping only he hears the urgency behind them.

“Um, sure...?” he looks back at the woman, who hasn’t taken he eyes off of you. You hope it’s the stupid mark on your forehead, and not you acting strange. You tightly grip his hand and pull him away, hoping your steps don’t look too rushed.

“Is everything alright?” his concerned voice makes your tears resurface, only when you’re sure there’s no one listening in on you conversation, you stop behind a house, and face him, “We need to leave. Now. You were right, we’re not safe here.”

“Wait, what?” your rushed words leave him lost, confused by your sudden change of heart, “I saw a video. Video of them killing people. We’re going to be next, Tae, we have to leave.” His face falls at your teary eyes, and trembling voice. “Shit.”

“I don’t have the time to explain, but we need to leave.” He nods his head in understanding, you know you don’t have a lot of time, based on everyone urging you to go back to Jungkooks house, you know he’ll be searching for you, and considering that was a while ago – you have to hurry.

“What’s that?” his gaze moves to your forehead, and you shrug your shoulders clueless, “Jungkook marked me. I don’t know what that means. Perhaps I’m the first one they’ll finish off.” You cry out, and Tae looks conflicted, “He found me before they went off hunting. Dunno what that was about but he put his hands on my shoulders and said welcome. Thought it was him apologizing for being a dick couple nights ago, but now-”

“So, they are in the forest now?” he nods his head, “Do you know from which side they went off?” your mind is spiraling, forest is their home, and if you want to have any possibility of escaping alive, you have to gain at least some sort of leverage.

“Far off end, not here. There is a clearing close enough, not many of them walk there. That might be our best bet.” You nod along, taking in everything he says. He grabs your hand and pulls you forward to what you assume, is the said clearing.

You’re careful with your steps, looking around for any unwanted followers. Every step feels like a ticking time-bomb, but Tae is right, this side is less inhabited, couple lonesome houses in midst of evergreen trees.

You stop near the edge and share a knowing look; this is your only chance. Even though the risk of being lost in jungle is great, you haven’t eaten anything in days, feet bare and clothing less than ideal, there’s no choice but to proceed.

And just like that, you run. Your heart pounds aggressively in your chest, and feet hurt with every step, but fear keeps you going. You can’t stay here, you know you’ll be the next one, why exactly they haven’t finished you off yet is a mystery in itself, but you’re not willing to wait and find out.

You smell freedom when the habitat turns greener with each of your steps, and your steps quicken, Tae close behind you. But you underestimated the tribe, if they managed to seek after you like an animal, there’s no chance they’d leave you running around, free to go whenever you wanted.

You learn your lesson when the ground beneath you crumbles. One single misstep, and you’re falling. Tae barely manages to catch you, his hands wrap around your waist when you scream, his body almost falling with you.

You watch in horror how the masked leaves fall one after the other like dominoes, and your gaze moves with them to see a steep ditch covering the entire area of the site, circling your only means of exit. A sharp sound like a whiplash follows soon after, and you realize you’ve run straight into a trap when the unmasked ditch has triggered a sturdy net to fall from the trees.

Wherever you turn your head, the trap follows, disturbing birds that fly high over your head away from danger. Oh, how you’d love to accompany them. Breathless, you grasp Taes’ hands around your waist, your only means of safety, holding you from falling to what might as well be your death.

“Shit”, he gasps in your ear, and you know you’re truly fucked when rushed steps and shouts near you. “What do we do now?” He balances you back on the ground, evident fear coloring his voice; as much as you’d love to step into the older sisters’ shoes and ease his mind, quickly figuring out a way to salvage the problem, you’re left speechless.

Even if you somehow manage to jump over the ditch, the net is too high to climb over and the netting too tough to tear. But there’s no time to think when you feel a sharp sting over your leg. Its force makes you fall on all fours, biting back a scream of pain you see a spear impaled on the other side of the ditch.

Fearful, you turn around to see a swarm of people surrounding you and your brother, another spear is thrown, but this time toward your brother, who barely manages to duck before it hits his body. Tears fall as you notice all the weapons pointed at you, and you’re just about ready to be impaled when a woman shrieks something in her tongue, and points at you.

It must be a sign to finish you off, you’re sure of it, you curl up awaiting the attack, but it never comes, rather you see the woman hit the man’s head who threw his spear at you. Your gaze quickly roams over the group, frightened by their relentless stares, but you notice one consistency – they’re pointing to your forehead.

You quickly touch it, confused about what’s happening, but when you do, a chorus of shouts come your way telling you to stop. And you realize what’s the hold-up, it’s the mark, Jungkooks blood smeared over your skin from yesterday.

As if he’s summoned, he runs through the crowd of people with a group of men following closely behind him. His gaze instantly meets yours, and you see the shock traveling through his system as he takes in your bleeding skin and terrified expression.

Just like a switch being flipped, he steps into his domineering aura; even though you’re away from him, you feel the energy of his anger like a shock wave crashing over you, the sparkling eyes and gentle touch which you oh, so adored nowhere present.

Overwhelmed with rage Jungkook turns to his people and barks something in their tongue, the tone of his voice makes you cover and for the first time, you’re glad you don’t understand what he’s saying.

You see the man who shot you fall to his knees, head deeply bowed down and hands put into a praying position. You don’t have to understand their language to know he’s begging, but his prayers aren’t answered when he’s forced to stand up. And in a blink of an eye, his neck is snapped.

What you wouldn't be willing to do, to return to yesterday when everything was so sweet you were bracing yourself for a toothache. But just as you feared, the shoe had to drop, only you didn’t expect the price to be your life.

The feral glint in Jungkooks eyes brings you back to the video, whatever dream you were living in these past days is broken, the man who once brought you comfort now terrifies you, but worse of all – you have nowhere to go, stuck with him, waiting for your demise.

You use the chaos around you and turn to Tae, whose eyes haven’t left the unmoving man’s body, “We have to run,” you whisper in a trembling voice, you’ve no plan, the only option is to hide, but even that’s farfetched – this is their home, they know every nook of it.

“Can you?” you look at your bleeding leg, the injury hurts as it is, but you refuse to gift them your life without a fight. You turn back to Tae and slowly nod your head, unsure of the answer yourself.

Careful to not attract any attention, you shuffle to your left, but your movement is caught instantly, “Don’t.” Jungkooks baritone voice freezes your body. You know he’s speaking to you, but you’re lost how he even noted the movement; his back is turned to you, his hand raised in your direction. Their sense of movement would be remarkable if you weren’t fighting for your life.

He turns around and faces you, and slowly starts walking towards you. But the closer he is, the more danger you’re facing, so you do your best to make him stop, “We will leave now. Thank you for your help, but it’s time for us to go.”

You try to sound confident, but that turns out hard under his untamed gaze. For a second it works, he stops in his tracks and overthinks your words, but when his jaw ticks and steps fasten, you know you’ve only made it worse.

“Leave? You’re hurt.” He kneels down besides you, and you can’t stop your body from flinching when his hands inspect your wound. “I will find help, but now, we must leave.” You repeat your words, careful to keep your voice down as to not aggravate him more.

But it seems no matter what you do, it only serves to tick him, “No.” his tone leaves no room for objection, and his hold tightens around your leg. “You’re marked. You’re one of us now. Why would you even want to leave, when I can offer you what I know you long for.” He cups your cheeks and tries to smile, but the untamed flames haven’t subsided in his eyes, and his smile looks more like a grimace.

“Safety, protection, love.” He pulls you closer when he mutters the last word, trying to awaken the memories of his soft touch the night before, but all your mind manages to make up is the vast cruelty with which he drove the knife over the woman’s neck, how easy it was for him to kill the man just now. You’re repulsed by his touch.

You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t stop yourself from whispering the terrifying truth, “You kill people, Jungkook.”.

His eyebrows furrow at your words, and almost as if he’s offended, he points to the unmoving body behind, “Him? He hurt you. He hurt a woman – he hurt his leaders’ woman-” he presses, but you don’t let him finish, “He’s not the only one.”

Thick silence enfolds, one neither of you want to break. You remind yourself you’re walking on eggshells, that he’s unstable and you have to keep your mouth shut, but somehow, the recent events feel like a betrayal of you and everything you hoped for; for once, your let down your guard, and now, you’ve to pay the price and fight for your life.

After a while in silence, Jungkook shakes his head, voice becoming more desperate “I don’t kill. I protect.”. What’s all the more terrifying is the conviction in his eyes, you know he’s spiraling, lied to himself enough times he has started to believe in it himself. But you know better, when the fake illusion drops, you don’t want to be the bearer of it all.

“Listen man, we better go. It was nice mee-” Tae cites your own words, but when his skin touches yours, the unsteady walls collapse and in one swing, Tae’s on the ground. Screech of terror escapes you, and you almost fall down the trench, if it weren’t for Jungkooks fast reflexes.

He takes his opportunity and pulls you closer to him, your body trembling out of fear, not taking your eyes off of your brother, who groans on the grass. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear, but all you can focus on is his vice grip locking you besides him.

“You don’t have to be scared any more. No one will hurt you, I’m here, it’s okay.” He shushes your cries, which only makes you cry harder. “I’ll make sure you never feel lonely again, I’ll be always right by your side.”

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #btsyandere #jungkook yandere #yandere #jk yandere #bts yandere #yandere bts #yandere jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfic

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forgeofthenine · 5 months

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Heyooo! I would like to make a request for whatever you want to write! If there’s something you’ve had on your mind but haven’t had the opportunity/motive to do so, this is it! 🥰

Thanks for the great request Anon! I took the opportunity to have a bit of fun and play around with an idea I've had for a hot minute. I hope you like it :)

What is it like to sleep with the bachelors (literally)

Dammon

Dammon is the sweetest man, the most amazing partner, so sweet and loving...

...And sometimes he kicks you in his sleep

When you mention his occasional night time karate practice he's both apologetic and a bit amused

Unfortunately, there's nothing short of tying him up while he sleeps that'll stop you from getting the occasional midnight wake-up call his foot provides

Despite that, he's still very nice to sleep with

Dammons the type to want to hold you close as you sleep, the type to sleep on his back with your head on his shoulder or chest

You'll always feel his tail around you too, either around your leg or more often around your waist

He runs as hot as his forge too, even in winter, so the two of you never have any need for a fireplace

Do beware though, he gets out of bed before dawn to get to the forge in time

Despite the occasional early wake, either from kicking or Dammon rustling around, he's just as wonderful in bed as he is out of it

Zevlor

Okay, so, Zevlor hardly moves when he sleeps

He picks a spot, falls asleep, and then wakes up in the exact same spot

Occasionally you have to put a hand on his chest to check he's still breathing

While sometimes it's a bit anxiety inducing, it does make him a very easy person to share a bed with

Unless the spot he picked is one where he's holding you

I hope you don't need a midnight bathroom break

Zevlor does like to hold you when you both sleep, it helps him feel grounded and like he's protecting you

Absolutely the type to spoon you for the entire night, his arm falling asleep be dammed

He keeps his tail around your ankle, it curls around you in a few firm loops and anchors you in place

And, even better, once he's happily settled and safe he will actually learn to sleep in

Sometimes the two of you will make it past nine am, slowly waking up to the sun streaming in through cracks in the curtains

Overall, Zevlor is definitely a pleasure to sleep with

Rolan

So, let's start with the cute thing Rolan does while sleeping

He lets out the quietest, sweetest little snores as he sleeps

They're not loud enough to wake you or be annoying, they're just perfectly endearing

And he adamantly denies he snores, so it's the perfect time for you to team up with his siblings to tease him

He blushes furiously every time he denies it, and then proceeds to snore as soon as he falls asleep that night

For the less cute thing, Rolans a blanket thief

An unstoppable, unapologetic blanket thief that leaves you with barely a corner of the sheet

You either have to wrestle them back from the sleepy tiefling or curl up around him and leech his warmth

Rolan calls it payback for all your teasing, tells you not to be greedy with the blankets like an ass

He does wrap you up in his blankets with him to read you books though

I feel like snuggling with Rolan as he reads to you, and then listening to his little snores is enough to make up for him being just as much of an ass in bed

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 dammon #bg3 dammon #dammon x reader #baldurs gate 3 zevlor #bg3 zevlor #zevlor x reader #baldurs gate 3 rolan #bg3 rolan #rolan x reader #bri answers

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rehenys · 3 days

Text

God, you're so handsome. ~ T.Wolff

Synopsis: Toto and George Russell's Sister are sneaking around. TW: Implied smut, Age Gap, Smoking.

God, he's so handsome in his vintage Merc and black Tom Ford glasses. With the sleeve of his black shirt casually rolled up, his muscular forearms catch the light. A wisp of smoke hangs between his parted lips as he waits for me at the end of the road, hoping my brother doesn't see us. I drop my duffle bag rushing into his arms and meeting his lips with a sinful kiss. His lustful eyes raked over my outfit, biting his lip But we both know time is of the essence.

Out on the open road of Monaco with the wind in my hair, hand on the back of my neck, just us and the ocean. His palm lays flat on my exposed thigh, mindlessly drawing shapes, his fluffy hair tousled due to the wind. His skin was glowing due to the setting sun. We pause to watch the sunset. I lean back against his chest, nestled between his long legs, with his arms wrapped around my waist and his lips against my neck. While my phone rings in the back seat.

5 missed calls from George

It's midnight, and we're tangled up in his sheets. I'm nestled against his side, his warm skin pressed against mine. His hand slowly roams my hip and waist until the teasing becomes too much. I stand over his body, holding him like a python, he canʼt keep his hands off me or his pants on. His lips whispered my name like a prayer.

16 missed calls from George

DAY 2:

In the morning light, he's still as handsome as ever, with tousled hair and sleepy eyes. I press a soft kiss to his jaw. As I try to untangle our limbs, his arms tighten around my waist. I flop back down, giving up on getting out of my safe place. After all, who needs breakfast?

Around mid-noon, we begrudgingly leave the bedroom to have ‘breakfastʼ. Who would have thought Toto Wolff would look so good making eggs? His bare torso is covered in an apron, his dexterous fingers wrapped around the whisk. I just intently stare at him making us breakfast, simply mesmerised, which he notices, he winks before giving me a bowl of strawberries to snack on. We share Crêpeʼs with whipped cream, with my feet in his lap; our lips swollen and his marble skin covered in purple splotches.

26 missed calls from George

It's the dead of night, and he sits on the sofa with his spectacles on, furiously typing away on his laptop, his hair messy from running his hand through it, his face set in a scowl. I just made his favourite Pumpernickel bread, and I have about 45 minutes to kill while it bakes. He looks too delicious right now for me to resist. I stand in front of him with an innocent smile, slowly moving his laptop away. His brown eyes crinkle with excitement, His lips find mine as I tug on his hair, gently massaging it to soothe the sting. He chuckles against my lip, his large palms sinking into my skin as my fingers nimbly unbutton his white shirt. My lips meet the skin between his neck and shoulder, his head thrown back in pleasure.

38 missed calls from George

DAY 3:

The next morning, I grab my phone while Torger is in the shower, to see a flurry of texts from my brother cussing me out, asking where I am. I calm him down, listing more lies to cover up our trial and he blindly trusts me, my heart heavy with guilt but he would never understand. I repeat it in my head like a mantra till that guilt settles when Toto takes me into his arms, kissing away my problems.

We lay on the couch as I read out loud, my hand running through his hair, his eyes fluttering shut. God, he's so handsome.

I chuckle, my darling all worn out. The simple domesticity of this week has me longing for more. we need to tell my brother, but how can I, this wasn't meant to happen but if I could go back in time I wouldn't change a thing. but my brother wouldn't understand, he has always been protective of his baby sister, and I know he would blow a fuse if he realised I was with his long-time mentor.

Our peaceful weekend had come to an end when he parked at the end of the road; back where we started, His face seemed to be set in a permanent scowl during the drive back. A chaste kiss and I walked up the road back home nodding at the security guard as he let me in giving me a sorrowful look. Stepping through the threshold of my house I switch to being the perfect sister and daughter of The Russells.

I happily greet my brother, feeding lies about my girl's weekend like I didn't spend the whole weekend in bed with his Boss and Mentor. As I head up the stairs he complements my outfit, I thank him with a soft smile but beneath that pretty pink Chanel dress he brought are the bruised hand prints of Torger Wolff with love bites to match.

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lovrily · 11 months

Note

hi :) could you do steve x shy reader at like a party or something and steve is her boyfriend who is super flirty but she's never had a boyfriend before so she's nervous bc he's being flirty?? i hope this makes sense 😭 thank you!!

it makes so much sense! i hope this is good! fem!reader | 2000 words | suggestive but no smut

"we should leave."

you look up from the fire, a marshmallow melting on the metal skewer you're holding. "really? why?"

steve shrugs. "let's do it."

"why?" you laugh. you're not disappointed; you wouldn't mind going back to his place and getting in pajamas, where it's quiet and familiar. but it had taken a lot of convincing on steve's part to get you to come to the bonfire in the first place, so you're surprised he would want to leave so early. he'd even convinced you to wear your bathing suit, although you'd worn his shirt over it for most of the night.

he hasn't answered.

"are you upset?" you ask quietly.

"no, it's not that." he smiles at you, a little crookedly. "sorry, babe."

"it's okay," you laugh. when you flip your skewer around and bite into the marshmallow, he inhales- bending down to pick up your purse. when you bite the rest of it off the tip of your thumb, his nostrils flare.

your eyes flash wide. "what?"

"nothing. you wanna go? we don't have to."

"yeah, but-"

"i got you, then. my car's out front. did you know that?"

he's murmuring and grinning like a fool. yeah, he jokes again, this time in your ear. let me take you home. you can't help but laugh.

there's a small chorus of friendly but mostly unfamiliar girls around the fire who whine various lines like, no, don't take her yet! or, leave her with us! and while you're flattered that so many people have taken a liking to you in one night, you're perfectly relieved to go home.

steve puts his hand on your back while you weave through the small crowd. his friends holler at him, trying to say goodbye, and he waves back at them, every gesture noncommittal. the sky is a murky, midnight blue, the sun completely gone. you're gawking at him by the time you've hiked back to the empty section of the field where you parked, a handful of other empty cars around you.

"are you sure nothing's wrong?"

"wrong?" he scoffs. "no, nothing's wrong."

"you're scaring me."

he opens the passenger's door and leans on it, smiling. "you're ridiculous."

"what!"

once you're inside, he shuts the door and hauls around to the driver's seat, shutting it and locking it behind him. the breadth of his shoulders blocks the moon, his hair fluffy and dark, mostly towel-dried after swimming. you lean away and he's watching you- so you're tempted to lean back over and just let him do whatever it is he's planning to do. but you're genuinely rather confused, so you hold your ground against the seat. it's cold against your back, even in the dead of summer.

"your hair is still wet," steve murmurs.

"i know. sorry, i'm getting it on your seats."

he reaches over and takes a section of your hair in his fingers. "babe, you know i don't care."

"i know."

he's still smiling.

"what is your problem?" you nearly shriek.

then you're laughing, and he's laughing even harder, and then he kisses you, and you're very, very quiet.

he's still grinning. his fingertips rake against the back of your neck, at your hairline, careful not to yank at the wet strands there. his thumb skids over your cheek, your face still slightly damp, your skin too-clean and sensitive and a little cold.

"are you cold?" he says suddenly.

"no," you breathe. not now.

you pull away, dizzy. he breathes hard, beaming at you, but he doesn't look nervous. he's steve. he doesn't get nervous doing stuff like this. especially not with you.

why would he, with you? he's your first boyfriend. he doesn't have to impress you, if he doesn't want to. maybe you're not very impressive, either. every time he kisses you, you feel like you're going to pass out. that's not very cool girl of you.

now is not the time to be feeling insecure, but the feeling has already set in- even after he wraps his right arm around your waist and hauls you over to the driver's seat. you squeal as he sits you on his lap, grabbing his keys from the console and putting them in the ignition behind you. the heat comes on in a dull wave.

he's about to kiss you again, and then he stops, pulling wet, knotted strands of hair away from your eyes as you loom over him, not fully settled.

"you okay?" he asks.

"yeah," you try to say confidently. it's more of a wheeze.

"yeah?"

"yeah."

he smirks, and it might look a little evil if he wasn't so sweet.

"can i kiss you?"

it's the stupidest question you've ever heard. he's practically gloating.

"again?"

he gawks at you, laughing. "again, yeah."

"you want to?"

you're not even sure why you say it. but you do, and at first, steve just snickers quietly. then his smile goes a little crooked and his brows knit together. and he says-

"of course i do."

you swallow. "okay." be cool. "do it."

that was not cool in the slightest.

steve watches you, leaning back a little bit, like you're something to examine. you fight the urge to wrench your eyes shut. one of his hands lands softly on your hip, and the other comes up to rub your arm, warm over the thin tan sleeve of his waffle shirt.

"are you okay?" he asks. this time, he really means it.

"yeah," you nod. "i'm okay."

"but you're hovering."

"i'm what?"

"sweetheart," steve laughs softly, letting go of you for a moment. you droop a bit, and realize he's right. "you're not sitting."

"you can't just ask a girl to sit on you, harrington."

he looks like he might laugh, but he doesn't- his expression oddly serious for the night. "did i do something?"

"no!"

you finally lock eyes with him, and he looks so worried that guilt blooms in your gut. just be honest.

"i don't know, sometimes...i just get nervous. when we're together."

your words seem to wound him, but he's listening intently. "okay."

he brings his hand back to your arm, tracing lines on your skin over the fabric of his shirt.

"i...haven't had a boyfriend before," you say. it's not a shock- he knows. "you're my first. for everything."

he nods. "my luck is crazy."

"sure," you scoff, but his face is gravely serious. "i just worry sometimes that you're going to realize i'm not worth it. sometimes, when you...when you kiss me, or...touch me, i just get scared you're going to realize i'm not what you want. you could have someone who's less nervous. or who's been with other people before."

someone who isn't me.

you're a little horrified once you've said all of it. steve just watches you, crickets chirping outside the car, the heater blowing by your waist and over your elbows. his hands go still, and his face crumples, like he'd cut himself on something sharp. his mouth falls open a little bit.

"honey," he laments.

"i know. sorry-"

steve leans forward and wraps his arms around you, pinning your biceps to your sides at first, not weaving your limbs with his. you both inhale. he squeezes you, your head drooping onto his shoulder, and then he pulls you away and loops his hands through your sides; where you finally sit on his lap, thighs brushing against the console and the door. he holds you around your stomach and puts one hand on the back of your head, holding you to his neck. the scent of sunscreen and bug spray laundry detergent make it more real; his hands warm and dry from swimming, his neck tan from being in the sun. the entanglement of you both is a heavy weight on the seat.

you breath in again and exhale. he's real, and he loves you, even when it's hard to believe it.

"are you kidding me, sweetheart? are you joking?"

"no," you laugh, voice muffled at his neck, but he doesn't in return.

"you should have told me that before. i feel like i'm gonna be sick."

"steve!"

he squeezes you once more and plants a kiss to the top of your head, then one on your forehead. his palms meet your cheeks and he tilts your head back, your arms wrapped around his neck.

"i don't want anyone but you," he says earnestly. "there is no one i want to be with but you. it doesn't even cross my mind. it's not an option."

you might cry. he wipes his thumb over your cheek, now hot as an iron.

"you're it for me," he says plainly. "okay?"

"okay."

"do you believe me?"

"yes," you nod, embarrassed.

he shakes his head at you, expression still pained. it's almost comedic how awful he feels, but you feel even worse for bringing it up.

"i'm sorry."

"don't," he retorts. "no. don't be. c'mere."

you lean forward and kiss him this time, and he's happy about it; the palms on your cheeks sliding back into your hair and over your ears, drowning out the sounds of the field like a fishbowl. all you hear is him. all you feel is him.

"i love you," he murmurs, kissing your lips- and then the tip of your nose, and then your chin and the crook of your neck. "you're my girl. i love you. there's no one else."

you melt like ice cream, slumped in his hands. what else can you do?

"steve..." you whisper.

"mhm?"

"let's go home."

his response is delayed. he kisses the crook of your neck again, then closer to your collarbone. when you inhale sharply, he leans back, screwing his eyes shut.

"but we have to drive all the way there."

"you're the one who wanted to go home in the first place!" you beam, amused at his grimace.

"home is far," steve utters. "you're here. right now."

you're going to die if he keeps talking like that. so you climb off of him and drop ungracefully into the passenger's seat, clicking your seatbelt into place. steve groans.

"oh, that's evil."

"take me home, harrington."

he sits there for a second, and then shakes his head; running his hands over his eyes and his hair, black against the night. his laughter is a quiet rumble.

"you're killing me. you don't even get it."

"what'd i do?"

his head is still in his hands. "you don't even have to do anything. you're just sitting there, and you're driving me insane. it's embarrassing. it's bad for my reputation."

"take me home, steve."

you're trying to be firm, but you're smiling. it's impossible not to. steve sighs once, then sits up, putting the car in reverse.

"you need to watch for cops, at this point, sweetheart, because i'm going to go fifty over until we get home."

you consider saying something snide in return, but honestly, you'd be perfectly happy if he did.

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #stranger things fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader

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libraryofloveletters · 1 year

Text

Daddy’s Biggest Fan

Lance Stroll x Fem!Reader

Warnings: surprise baby!, babygirl is the star of the show and the gem of the stroll family, grandpa Lawrence is besties with his granddaughter, mentions of labour and giving birth (nothing graphic!), the vettel family is the cutest, soft uncle mick, uncle estie and auntie elena, some cheesy comments from lance, auntie chloe and uncle scotty for the win!

Word Count: 6,210

Author’s Note: prompted by this video and this photo :)) enjoy soft dad lance! // also y’all know I cannot write lance without some mention of Canada lmaoooo forgive me please

---

Weekend of the Canadian Grand Prix, 2022.

The hallways were empty considering it was nearly midnight. Lance’s bag hung off of his shoulder, hitting his back as he ran towards the desk. “Y/n l/n, where is she?” He asks, fingers drumming against the counter as he waits for the nurse to tell him.

“Who are you?” She asks and he huffs a sigh. “Her boyfriend.”

“Oh, yeah okay. Uh, one sec,” she checked the charts to her left, “room 209.” She tells him and with that he’s off again, scanning all the door numbers before he finds the room.

He walks in quietly, silently hoping he hasn't missed it. “Did I miss it?” Lance asks.

He finds you still very much pregnant on the bed. “You didn’t,” you smiled, your hand stretched out for him.

The Canadian Grand Prix was this weekend which meant Lance was home in Montreal so the baby picked the perfect time to make their appearance into the world. The fact that you two were expecting was a bit of a secret, no one except your families, the Vettels along with Esteban, Elena and Mick knew.

Seb only found out because Lance went shopping with him to pick up a few things for his kids and Seb was curious as to why he was so interested in baby clothes all of a sudden. As for Esteban, Elena and Mick, the 3 drivers were close and Esteban is bad at keeping secrets so that was that.

Sunday was rolling into Monday and your contractions were closer together. Your sister in law was asleep on the chair next to your bed, Lance didn’t wake her but your groans did.

“When’d you get here?” She yawns, looking at her brother.

“An hour ago. Can you get the doctor though? Her contractions are closer together now.” Lance asked his sister, you and Chloe share a glance before laughing. Chloe squeezes her brother’s shoulder, “yeah, I'll go.”

It was a few moments before Chloe returned, your sister in law beside your boyfriend as the doctor checked how far along you were dilated. “Alright, you’re just about ready to push.” The doctor gets up, letting the sheet back down. “We’ll get you prepped, who’s staying?”

“I am.” “He is.” Chloe and Lance answer at the same time.

You smile at the Stroll siblings, Chloe comes over to kiss your forehead. “I’ll be waiting outside. You've got this,” she tells you, and you nod. “I’ll see you after.”

Chloe gives her brother a hug before stepping out.

The doctor and nurses come in, it’s an overwhelming scene to anyone on the outside but you were relaxed, surprisingly.

The room door was shut, the drape up between your lower half and you with Lance standing by your side, holding your hand the whole time. Your boyfriend whispered sweet nothings to you, praising you on what a good job you were doing.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers, kissing your forehead. “Doing so good, baby. Just a few more pushes.”

“Almost here,” Your doctor calls up to you, “few more.” She confirms your boyfriend’s theory.

Within the next few minutes, you had given birth. You looked a mess, hair matted to your forehead from sweat, your eyes teary and you were beyond exhausted and yet, he looked at you like you held the sun and the stars.

“So proud of you,” Lance whispers, pushing your hair away from your face as he kisses your forehead. The doctor was right next to you two, cleaning up the baby and doing her initial tests before wrapping the little baby in a white and pink blanket.

“Congratulations,” She smiles, placing the baby in Lance’s arms. “It’s a girl.” She tells you both, giving you a moment to coo over her.

The floodgates have broken, Lance’s face covered in tears as he sits by your bedside, resting the baby on your chest gently. This was probably the first time you’ve seen Lance cry this much, it’s quite sweet to see his daughter reduce him to a puddle to tears. His arm over the top of the pillow, the two of you looking at the baby you created.

Both of you crying, the little thing on your chest had her eyes shut. “She’s got your eyes,” Lance whispers, as if he would be disturbing the baby’s rest by being any louder.

“Her eyes are barely open.” You chuckled, looking over at your boyfriend.

It was a little while with just the 3 of you. Lance already has a million and one pictures of his baby girl on the phone, changing the home screen from you to one of you and her.

There’s a knock on the door, the nurse sticking her head in to let you know that you have visitors. Lance tells her to let them in, you were sitting on the bed, a baby wrapped up in a blanket being cradled to your chest with Lance sitting on the edge of the tiny hospital bed.

Chloe held the first bag, a little stuffed lion and blanket in it and Scotty followed behind, some outfits for the baby in the bag. “When’d you get here?” you asked Scotty, the two of them coming over to see the newest addition to the Stroll family.

“Chloe called me as soon as it was time for you to push.” He asks, watching as you hand the baby over to your sister in law.

“You guys,” Chloe whispers, holding the baby like she was the most precious thing in the world. “She’s so beautiful.”

Scotty and Chloe sat on the bench next to the window, the two of them cooing over their niece.

“We didn’t tell you her name,” you look over at them, Lance snuggled in next to you on the bed. The older couple looks over, waiting for you to tell them.

“Meet Elizabeth Chloe Stroll.” You tell them, glancing between Chloe and Lance.

“Chloe?” The blonde asks, looking down at the baby in her arms.

“Mhm hm, after the best auntie in the world,” you hold Lance's hand, the woman smiles. Scotty grins at his fiancé, you and Lance chuckling at her reaction.

“Lizzie for short,” Lance says, a smile on his face.

The two of you had wanted to name her with a name that started with L but you couldn't settle on any so you went with Elizabeth, Lizzie for short. Also because Lance wanted her to have L. Stroll like him.

“She’s beautiful,” Chloe says once more, “like her mom.”

“Wow, no credit for me?” Lance asks his sister, she shrugs. “Don’t worry, mate. I think you’re handsome.” Scotty says to his brother in law, earning a few laughs.

---

The next few days had been a whirlwind of emotions. Lizzie was born on Tuesday just past midnight and you were released on the Thursday. Lance refused to leave you two, telling the team that he’d be missing media day and decided to opt out of practice on Friday as well.

Perks of your dad owning the team you drive for I suppose.

Lizzie was laying against her father’s chest, her little hand wrapped around his finger as he rubbed her back softly. You had gone to take a shower before Lance had to leave but the man was still on the couch, dressed for the track but he’s yet to move from his spot.

“Lance.” You called, your hands on your hips. “C’mon, you can’t miss qualifying.”

“Do I really have to go?” There’s a pout playing on his lips when you come over to take Lizzie from him.

You’ve got the little girl in your arms when you stand between his legs. “Yes, you have to go.”

Lance gets up, a pout on his face and you reach up to give him a kiss. You can feel his hand over yours, the one resting under Lizzie, holding her up in her little roots onesie.

“Go on,” you nudge him towards the door. Lance begrudgingly makes his way to the door, picking up his keys and his phone before turning back to face his girls once more.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay?”

“One hundred percent,” you smile at your boyfriend. You’ve got Lizzie tucked into your chest, an arm under her as your other hand rests on your boyfriend’s jaw. “We love you, now go.”

“I love you,” he smiles before giving you a kiss. Lance leans down a bit more, kissing Lizzie’s head, “I love you the most.”

You smiled at the man and his daughter, rushing him out the door before he missed the session.

Lizzie was but a few days old, much too little for you to be taking her to a race. You’re certain there were rumours floating around that you and Lance had split after you not being there for a few months. Once you hit your 5th month of pregnancy, it was hard to find the bump under clothes and your doctor suggested staying in one place or only go to races that are much shorter flights.

It was killing you to miss his home race this weekend but there was nothing you wouldn’t do for this little girl.

You two sort of lay around for a bit. You take a million and one photos of her; new parents and not wanting to miss a moment. You had the tv on, watching as the sky sports crew made their way through the paddock, asking around while they set up for qualifying.

Lizzie stretches in your arms and you decide to change her into the little outfit her grandfather had gifted her.

The day after you two told Lawrence you were expecting, you received a basket of baby things; onesies, hats, shirts, little jackets and hoodies, a blanket and even a little car stuffie all in Aston Martin green with the little logo on it.

The little girl was now in a onesie, the Aston logo across her tummy and the back had a number 18 on it.

You put her to lay on the couch so you can take a photo of her. You send that on to Lawrence with a message attached; future aston driver ?

Your father in law replied with a yes and a million emojis that he’s newly discovered and had come to love.

“Your grandad is so cheesy,” you tell her quietly, picking her back up. You held her in your arm carefully, watching as they were doing last minute checks before the cars would be pulling out for quali.

The two of you take a selfie, both you and Lizzie have on Aston Martin shirts with the matching 18 on the back.

To Lance: good luck!! <3 *1 Image Attachment*

From Lance: miss my biggest fan.

To Lance: awh you miss me? how sweet.

From Lance: you’re funny, you got booted. Lizzie is daddy’s biggest fan.

To Lance: it’s not cute when you refer to yourself as daddy.

From Lance: you love it mommy.

To Lance: you’re sooooo gross. go race, we love you.

Setting the phone down, you rocked the sleepy baby softly. The volume was low but the sound of the zooming cars and the rumbling engines lulled her back to sleep.

You managed to stay awake through qualifying; Sebastian and Lance were starting one after another with the German in P17 and the Canadian in P18.

Not the best but hopefully tomorrow will be better.

Lizzie woke up at some point after qualifying. You changed her diaper, fed her, rocked her and sang to her until you two found your way back to the couch. It had been a repeat of the same thing for the last few days; sleep, eat, sing to her, take a million photos, change her and repeat.

You tried to get a few minutes of sleep when she did which is what you were doing when your boyfriend walked into the apartment. The door shuts quietly, the man setting the keys down on the entry table softly before making his way over to his girls on the couch.

Despite changing his clothes, you could still smell the burnt rubber and gasoline on his skin. “Hey,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss Lizzie’s head before sitting next to you.

The girl in your arms and your head back against the couch cushions. Your eyes were shut but you open them when you feel him take her from you, giving you a break.

“Weren’t you sleeping?” He asks, Lizzie’s little hand wrapping around his finger when he gently rubs over her hand.

“Resting my eyes,” you hum, snuggling into his side.

The man smiles, there’s nothing better than having his two girls with him. He rocks the girl in his arms back and forth ever so softly, calming her when she stirs. “Shh, go back to sleep angel. Daddy’s here.”

You looked up from his shoulder at him, “what did I tell you about that daddy thing?”

“I was talking to Lizzie, you freak.” He chuckles, kissing your head.

----

Weekend of the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, 2022.

You and Lance have finally decided to take Elizabeth to her first Grand Prix. It only made sense to take her to Abu Dhabi, seeing that it was the final race of the season, and that you would get there early enough to give her time to acclimate to the environment.

Also, you had sweet talk Lance into thinking it was a good idea because you wanted to be there for Sebastian's final weekend.

Lawrence had been asking when he was going to see his granddaughter at a race and all the things just aligned, it made the most sense to go then rather than wait for the start of next season.

Lizzie was now six months old, and she was starting to hit a few milestones. She can roll over and sit up on her own, starting to pull herself up and make efforts to crawl. She's starting to babble and make funny faces at you. She also is starting to recognize people and she loves when her auntie Chloe and uncle Scotty come over because Scotty spends 98% of the time making funny faces at her, and it causes the sweetest little giggles you’ve ever heard in your life.

You had given her a shower, getting her dressed for the day and you were about to get dressed yourself, thinking you’d be leaving her with her dad but the man was knocked out in the arm chair, the baby bottle sat on his lap and dripping on his shirt.

It was too funny to ignore so you set Lizzie in her playpen, taking a photo of Lance before posting it to your Instagram story.

It’s the first post of him you've made since you suddenly vanished from the paddock. Of course you cover the baby bottle with a little heart emoji and tagged him before setting your phone down.

“Sweetheart,” you nudged him softly. Lance stirred a bit but didn’t open his eyes. You take the baby bottle off of his lap and sit on him. “Lance, c’mon.”

The man finally opens his eyes, a scowl on his face. “Why’d you wake me?” He groans.

“You have dinner with the guys tonight.”

“Noooo,” he whines, his arms wrapped around you. “Let me stay.”

“I’ll give you Lizzie and have her drool on you if you don’t get up.” You give him a look and his brows raise, “you wouldn’t.”

You get off his lap, going to get the girl out of her playpen. “Fine!” He shouts, grabbing you by the waist when he rushes over you, his arms around you once again as he hugs you from behind. Lance's chin rests on your shoulder, “I love her but she drools soooo much.” He sighs, earning a laugh from you.

“Go change,” you wiggle him off of you. Lance nods, leaving you two to go change for dinner.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay?” He yells from the bedroom and you roll your eyes; you know he means well but sometimes you swear he forgets it’s just the two of you when he was away racing.

“Chloe is coming over, we’re gonna catch up on our gossip.” You tell him, picking up Lizzie and swinging her around. The little girl giggled, her big brown eyes wide and her gummy smile on display.

Lance comes out of the room, “and what do we plan to do with little missy when you two are catching up on your gossip?”

There’s a knock on the hotel door and you walk over to open it, Chloe and Scotty arriving together. Lizzie babbles when her uncle reaches for her, smothering her cheeks with kisses when you hand her over.

“Voila!” You show your boyfriend, his sister and her fiancé enamoured with their niece.

Lance shook his head, “you’re something else, babe.”

“It's called delegating, Lance.”

“Whatever,” the man nods, giving you a thumbs up with a look of fake disappointment. He gives you a kiss goodbye before saying hello to his sister and Scotty. He takes Lizzie from Scotty for a minute to say goodnight to her, knowing she'd be sleeping by the time he got back from dinner.

“I love you, sugarplum.” He whispers to his daughter, “sleep well.” He kissed her temple gently before handing her back over to her uncle.

----

The final qualifying of the season and you two had just returned to the paddock after almost an entire year of you not being there.

This time with a special guest.

Lizzie was in her dad’s arms, pulling on his sunglasses every other second as he walked through the paddock.

The little girl looked out into the swarming photographers then back to her dad who was whispering something to her. His other hand was holding yours, the obvious fact was that this was why you had vanished from the paddock.

You make it to the garage and while you two settle in, Lizzie is going from hand to hand, basking in all the attention she was getting; she gets that from you, her father wasn’t the most sociable with people he didn’t know, while you were a social butterfly.

Lizzie’s got a pair of clunky green headphones over her ears, protecting her little ears from the loud noises. She was currently on Seb’s side of the garage, Britta holding the little girl as Seb showed her something he had in his hands.

“I think Hanna’s gotta prepare herself for the ‘I think we should have one more’ talk,” you joked with Lance, nodding towards Seb who was clearly enthralled by the little girl.

Lance laughed, “Seb just loves kids, babe. He’s been asking me to bring her around.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” You smacked his arm lightly, “I would have brought her.”

“Sometimes I think you like Sebastian more than you like me,” he gives you a pointed look and you smile, “I do.” You walked off to get Lizzie before the session started.

“Hey,” you wiggled your fingers at the girl, getting her attention. Seb turns to see you, pulling you into a side hug, his arm over your shoulders. “She’s so cute, y/n.” He tells you, Britta had bent down so Seb’s daughters could talk to her.

“Thank you, Seb.” You smiled, “I think she looks like her dad.”

“No way, she's your carbon copy. She just has his eyes.” He says, “that’s why she’s cute, if she looked like him... well..”

“Sebastian!” You laughed, taking Lizzie back from Britta.

The German laughs, “I'm kidding. Hanna’s upstairs and that’s where you two are going, right?” He looks over at his daughters, the little blonde girls nod and hug their father before turning to you.

“Can we play with her later?” The oldest asks and you nod, “of course. I’ll bring her upstairs in a few minutes.”

The girls ran down the hallway hand in hand, back upstairs to their mother and little brother.

“Good luck,” you tell Seb, “say good luck to uncle Seb,” you tell Lizzie, lifting her chubby hand to wave to the man before returning to Lance’s side of the garage.

Lance takes the girl from you the moment you walk back over, sneaking in as many cuddles he can before he was needed in the car. You took a few photos of the two; Lizzie’s little green dress matches the colour of her father’s race suit and her chunky hands rested on her daddy’s cheeks, smacking his face softly as he pretended to bite her chubby cheeks.

One of his engineers gives him the signal, time for him to get in the car. “I love you sugarplum,” he whispers to the girl, handing her back over to you.

The moment Elizabeth is back in your arms, she starts crying. It was safe to say she was a daddy’s girl through and through, she had that man wrapped around her finger; Lance had a pout on his face like you had ripped his heart out and stomped on it the moment she started crying.

“Don’t,” you warn him, your hand on his cheek when you kiss him.

Neither of you seemed to notice the cameras flashing or the fact that they had gotten the whole sweet moment before Lance and his girls in camera.

“Go before she wants you again.” You tell him, shooing him off while Elizabeth was looking over your shoulder, away from her father. He blows his girls a kiss once more, walking off to get his helmet and get in the car. You bounce Lizzie in your arms until the car pulls out of the garage and then you head upstairs to find Hanna and the kids.

Quali had finished faster than expected but neither you nor Hanna were really paying attention; the woman was letting you in on the secrets of motherhood while the children played.

The little boy was laying on his mum’s lap, his eyes shut and his blonde curls all over the place. You were sitting on the floor, Elizabeth on your lap while the girls showed her their toys, putting on a show for her. Lizzie had no idea what they were on about but the expressions on their faces along with the colourful toys captured her attention enough to get her to babble along, swinging her hands happily.

Sebastian and Lance found their way upstairs to see their kids before having to go off to press.

If you had asked Sebastian if he thought both he and Lance would be going up to see their children by the time he retired when he first started at Aston, the man would have laughed in your face.

But it’s funny how life works and children change you for the better. Sebastian told his teammate as much.

Lance find his way to sit behind you and you lean back on his legs. Sebastian is next to Hanna, sinking into the couch when he lets out a big breath.

“How’d we do, boys?” You asked and Seb shrugs. “Could be better.”

“Says the man in P9,” Lance laughed, his hands coming down to rest on your shoulders. “And you?” You leaned back, your head on his knee as you looked up at him.

“P14.”

“Tomorrow will be better.” Your hand comes up to rest on his, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Ah young love,” Seb sighs, nudging Hanna. “Remember when we were like that?”

“You’re still like that, Sebastian.” The woman gives him an exasperated look, earning a few laughs.

Elizabeth was looking around now, instantly wiggling from your grasp and trying to turn when she heard Lance’s voice. You lean to the side, letting Lance hunch over and pick her up. She’s standing on his lap, hands on his face to keep her balance as she looks around. She sees Sebastian to her left who was making faces at her.

The little girl babbles, her father’s hands being the only thing keeping her up when she reaches for Sebastian. Lance hands her over to Seb, Elizabeth sitting comfortably on his lap when you lean back to take a photo of her, Seb and Hanna.

“Can’t believe both of my girls prefer Sebastian over me.” Lance grumbles, making you laugh.

“He has 4 championships, how many do you have?” You asked your boyfriend, the man rolling his eyes at your comment.

Sebastian looks down at the little girl, her hands tugging on the bracelet on his wrist. “Remember when the kids were this little?” He asked his wife and she smiled.

“You could always have one more,” Lance suggests to the older couple.

“No.” Hanna says, while Seb had a whole other answer; “yes.”

You and Lance exchange a look, laughing at them.

“Feel free to babysit Liz anytime you want another kid, she’ll change your mind.” You tell them and Seb shakes his head, lifting the girl when he looks up at her.

“Mum says you’re naughty,” he gives her a look and she giggles. “Yeah, you’re not bad, you're a good girl.” He smiles at her, “I know you are, sweetheart.” He sets her back on his lap, facing him.

At some point, Britta comes looking for Seb, both of the drivers having to up and leave for press. There’s lots of smooches, the kids wanting their fathers to stay and promises of sweets upon return.

----

P8 for Lance and P10 for Sebastian.

The Astons finishing off the season in the points and almost beating Alfa Romeo for 6th in the constructors was a good position to be in.

You had joined the mechanics on the pit wall for the final lap, watching the cars cross the finish line. Lizzie was a few feet away, her chunky green headphones over her ears as her grandfather held her.

Sebastian was currently doing his final donuts of his F1 career and you could see Hanna and the kids to your left, watching with the proudest looks on their faces. You smiled at them, a hand on your back pulling your attention away from the family.

Lance stood beside you, his arm over your shoulders and his race suit rolled down to his waist. “Back so soon?” You asked, assuming he would have still been in parc fermé and yet he was here. “Wanted to see my girls.” He smiled, letting you lean in to kiss him.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whispered against his lips and he kissed you once more.

“Where’s sugar plum?” He looked around when he realized you didn't have her.

You nod towards the pit wall; Elizabeth was banging on all the buttons on the table, Lawrence laughing as he watched the little girl.

The chaos on the track died down, everyone returning to their respective garages or off to watch the podium. The paddock was still packed; fans, crew, drivers, families, celebrities despite the fact that it was nearly 10pm.

The two drivers were in the garage, the Vettel children running circles around their grandparents as Seb and Hanna made the rounds, Sebastian getting into a conversation with everyone he stopped to talk too. You and Lance were soaking in the last few moments of the season on track. Elizabeth was with her granddad, the little girl being carried around the paddock as he said his goodbyes and small talk with the other team principals.

“Can I get a picture?” The photographer asks when he sees Sebastian and Hanna with you two.

The 4 of you manage to find yourselves together after the few drinks you’ve had, all adorning dopey, happy grins on your faces.

It was a bittersweet moment; the start of a new adventure for both drivers.

Sebastian navigates retired life while Lance figures out how to be a father - something he knows he’ll be turning to Seb for when he’s at a loss.

You two say your goodbyes to Sebastian, Hanna and the kids, as well as Seb’s parents and his brother. Lawrence catches the Vettels on the way out, letting Lizzie say bye to her new friends before they head out for the night.

“Can I have my baby back?” Lance asked his father and the older man shook his head, “no. She’s my granddaughter.”

“But she’s my daughter.” He bickered with his father.

You let them bicker, quietly taking Lizzie from Lawrence without either of them noticing. When they finally stop fighting and notice you’re holding the girl, you smile. “You forget she’s still my girl before either of yours.”

Lance packs up the rest of his things shortly after saying goodbye to everyone else in the garage. You three were on your way out when you got stopped by Elena shouting for you.

“Y/N!” She starts running to you three.

“ELENA!” you shout back, rushing over to give the woman a hug. Lizzie was squished between you two, Elena taking her from you. “Mon amour,” she fixed the bow on the little girl’s dress, “you’ve gotten so big.” She kisses her cheek.

Esteban and Mick weren’t far behind. The Frenchman coos over the little girl with his girlfriend and Mick joins in.

The 3 of them had come to meet Elizabeth post Canadian Grand Prix along with Sebastian. The 4 of them and Hanna, were the only ones aside from your families that knew you two had a baby hence her instant connection when she saw them again.

Once again, Elizabeth is the star of the show. Esteban is forced to take a million pictures of her and Elena. One thing with Lizzie was that she loved the attention, she always found the camera in the room. Mick was passed the phone next, taking one of Esteban with the girls. You and Lance joined the couple, all of you smiling for the camera. Elizabeth was getting fussy so you took her back but she started wiggling, her little arms stretched out for her uncle Mick.

Mick was holding the girl now and you asked one of the Alfa Romeo crew members passing by to take the photo for the 6 of you.

You smiled, watching as Mick spun around with the girl in his arms. He was telling her something, tickling her side as he did.

“We’re headed to the club, you guys want to come?” Elena asks, her fingers interlocking with her boyfriend’s.

“Uhh,” Lance looked at you and you shrugged. “We’d have to get someone to watch Liz first.” He tells his friends.

Esteban nods, “the joys of being parents.” He jokes.

“Well, I'll text you where we end up, text me if you’re coming!” Elena tells you, saying goodbye as they head out. Mick joined them once he passed Elizabeth back to Lance, giving the girl a kiss on the cheek before leaving.

“Do you want to go?” He asks you, the three of you heading out. “It’d be nice but who’s gonna look after Lizzie?” You looked over at him and he paused, literally stopped in the middle of the parking lot.

“I know exactly who.”

It’s a short walk back to the hotel, you two pack up whatever you think Elizabeth would need for the night, putting her in the stroller before heading back to the elevator. Lance hit the button for the 16th floor and you know exactly what he’s thinking. Once you got off, you followed the man to the door.

He knocks and Chloe opens the door. “Hey,” she smiles, leaning on the door frame. “Everything okay?”

“I was wondering..” Lance starts. “Since you’re my favourite sister and all-” “Your only sister but go on,” she folds her arms, waving him on.

“Can you watch sugar plum tonight? I know you two don’t have plans and we wanted to go out.”

Chloe gives her brother an obviously look but she nods, “of course we’ll watch her. Do you have her stuff?”

“Everything’s in her baby bag, thank you guys.” You tell her when Lance pushes the stroller into the suite. “No need to thank me, I know you two needed a night to relax. Go have your fun, we’ll see you in the morning.” She gives you a shove out of the room.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay ?” Lance asked his sister and she smacks his shoulder, “duh, I used to look after you. We’ll be fine, I'll call if anything but I won’t need to, so go.”

The two of you were a little hesitant to leave Elizabeth without either of you for the night, seeing that it was the first time that you've actually done that but you knew she’d be in good hands with her auntie Chloe and uncle Scotty.

You two ended up meeting Elena, Esteban and Mick at the club and had the time of your lives; dancing, doing shots, singing along to the horribly loud music that was playing.

It was the type of night that you wanted to remember forever that won’t be fully remembered. The best kind of night.

It was nearly 8am when you found yourselves back in the elevator and on your way to get your daughter. Lance wanted to go back to the hotel room and sleep off the hangover he knew was incoming but you at least wanted to see Elizabeth first.

You knocked on the door quietly, Scotty opened it with a wide awake Lizzie in his arms.

“You two look like hell,” he laughed, bouncing the girl in his arms. “Sorry we’re late,” you tell him, smiling at the girl who was still sleepy and drooling all over his shirt.

He steps aside. “It’s okay, c’mon in.”

Chloe was knocked out on the couch, the baby bottle in her hand. “Lizzie put her to sleep?” You chuckled and Scotty nodded. “It’s hard work but it's worth it, isn’t it?”

“So worth it.” You smiled.

Lance has found himself to the spot next to his sister, dropping down and his eyes already shut.

“You should stay for breakfast.” He says, sitting on the couch across from the one Lance and Chloe were on. “I doubt we’ll be having breakfast anytime soon,” You nod towards the sleeping siblings.

“That's okay,” he smiles, “you should get some rest too. I can watch her.”

“Are you sure? You guys had her all night.”

Scotty waves you off, nodding towards the bedroom. “She slept through the night like a champ, woke up like 30 minutes ago. Go get some rest.” He sends you off.

It was maybe 3 or 4 hours later when you felt the little hands on your side. Lance in bed with you and Lizzie between you two. “Hi sugar,” you picked her up, kissing her temple.

“Sleep well?” Your boyfriend asks and you nod, “good enough.”

“We ordered lunch, should be here by time Chloe gets out of the shower.” He rubs your leg, “she left some clothes for you.” He nods towards the t-shirt and pants at the end of the bed.

After a few minutes, you got out of bed and changed, making sure to wash your face and brush your teeth before joining Lance, Elizabeth and Scotty in the living room. Chloe joined a few minutes after you just in time for lunch to arrive.

All of you settled in around the table and started having breakfast, chatting away and you took a moment to make a post on Instagram for the first time in a long time.

It’s a couple photos from the last few days in Abu Dhabi.

The first one from race day, you and Lance leaning on his car with Lizzie peeking out from under the halo of the car while she sat in his seat.

The next one is Chloe, Scotty and Lizzie. The three of them laying on the floor from the night they came over while Lance was at Seb’s retirement dinner.

The next 3 are from post race before you went out; one of Elena, Esteban and Elizabeth, one of Mick and Elizabeth and finally one with all 6 of you in front of the Aston Martin garage.

Lawrence had sent you a photo of Lizzie and him sitting on the pit wall that one of the engineers took, her big chunky headphones being tugged on while her granddad tried to fix them.

The last group photo was on you, Lance, Seb and Hanna in the Aston garage before you all headed out for the night; arms wrapped around each other and big goofy grins on your faces.

There were the final two pictures; One of you and Lizzie, she’s on your lap while you do your makeup and one of her and Lance in the pool, he’s holding her while they’re laughing at each other.

The set was captioned with a perfect end to the season <3.

You set the phone down, looking back at the people sitting around the table. Your boyfriend, your daughter, your sister in law and your brother in law.

The little unit made some of the best memories and had some of the most important people in your life there.

It truly was the perfect end to the season.

-----

taglist: @timetoracewrites @diorleclerc @lickmeleclerc @dragon-of-winterfell @benedictscanvas @elisaa-shelby @hnmaga-blog @czechoslovakiandisco @dr3lover @troybolton14 @Lovingroscoee @compulsiveshit @somanyfandomsbruh @damnyoulifee @barzysreputation @vickyofalltrades @yeolsbubbles @barzysreputation @thybulleric @valkyrie418 @ricsaigaslec @idkiwantchocolatee @sessgjarg @molliemoo3 @bisexual-desi @sunf1owerrq @alwaysclassyeagle @coldmuffinbanditshoe + @lovelytsunoda because i know i love lance <3

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withoutyouimsaskia · 2 months

Text

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 2)

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

GIF: Originally posted by @harleytudinous

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Threat. Dream manipulation. Masturbation. Voyeurism. Plot related cigarette use. Dubious consent.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: So I know I initially billed this as a two shot but the story has run away with me in the most lovely way. Part 3 will be coming soon. Thank you for all your kind responses to part 1, it honestly means so much to me. Hope you enjoy this one too. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

---------------------------------------------

The veil of sleep comes down upon your weary body with a feather-light touch, trying to coax your mind back into the world of dreams.

Dreamscapes have been a whole new experience for you in the past month of your life. Before, you would wake with no recollection of what had played out. Not even the slightest inkling. Now, you remember everything.

They are staggering; bursting with details and ideas beyond your most outlandish daytime imaginings. The emotions that are conjured by them, both when asleep and also awake are just as bold.

And even though it's been 23 nights since it started you are still finding them predominantly jarring and disorientating. You are baffled by how other people cope with the sheer vividness. The unpredictability. Maybe they have become desensitised. You can only hope that the same will happen for you in time.

One thing you tell yourself with each sunrise:

Thank goodness they weren't nightmares.

At least, you don't think they are. There's no resemblance between yours and what you have heard others describe over the years, nor to those outlined in a dream decoding book you had checked out of the library last week. There's no obvious threat or fear. No re-living of traumatic events. Just weird subtext.

The first dream found you standing barefoot on a beach. A mirage distorted the particulars of the scene making it impossible to see further than half a meter in front of you. The temperature of the sand under your soles was verging on painful and as such, it forced you to walk into the unknown before you.

A groaning wind started to brew and lifted the sand into sparkling flurries. You shielded your eyes from the abrasive particles.

The sun was at its apex when you heard the ear splitting bangs. Unmistakably gun shots; you didn't last much longer in the dream and woke with a start.

For the next week, your dreams had been like a series of video clips edited into a supercut.

Raven wings. Black cats. Hellfire. Ruby red glow. Sprawling library shelves. Landscapes hewn by earthquake fissures. Hotel corridors. A handsome, blond haired man wearing sunglasses, holding a blood covered knife.

If you didn't know any better, you would begin to suspect that your new box of tea bags had been laced with a psychedelic. Alas, no. Your hypothesis was unequivocally disproved when you friends had been completely unaffected after stopping by for a Sunday afternoon catch up.

This quick fire of snapshots eventually stopped, transforming into lucid long form dreams. You often think back to the first one where it happened.

Standing in the the empty room, and the appearance of the figure dressed in black. The colour that had flashed in their midnight eyes had the quality of liquid silver. Sometimes you wonder if you see the same image in other dreams, standing in amongst a crowd.

From that point on, regardless of what dream you are in, you cannot shake the intuitive prickle down your spine that tells you someone is watching you.

You reason that it is nothing to be concerned about. Humans dream, and you cannot deny that some of them - swimming in a sea of clouds, re-visiting childhood haunts, trying out superpowers - have been quite fun.

You roll over on to your left side and close your eyes.

You dream.

The room you see is expansive in breadth and depth. Impressive windows bring brilliant light into the space which bounces off the ivory stone of the floors and walls. There are statues positioned at equidistant intervals, implying that the chamber is a gallery of sorts.

One effigy, fashioned from bronze, and rich in colour draws your attention. The lines and curves of its form intrigue you, despite not knowing the creature it was portraying.

You are about to move on when the feeling of being watched sparks through your skeleton.

Everything changes.

Clarity gives way to haze. Sun is swapped for moon.

You see a man across the room. He stands with a perfect posture. Graceful, powerful. His elbows are bent, fingers interlaced, palms facing upwards. Sheer black fabric floats around his frame. It moves languidly, giving glimpses of his bare body beneath.

The man's face is imperceptible. The distance between you too great but somehow you know you are the focus of his attention.

His robes fall to the floor with a gossamer sigh. The pale, unmarked skin of his slight form glows beautifully in the moonlight. You look down in embarrassment as arousal flushes through you, and you see that you are suddenly as naked as he is.

You gasp, and snap your gaze back up.

The sight you see is rather unexpected. The man is intimately touching himself.

You feel compelled to mirror him. You immediately reach between your legs. The man groans as you make contact.

All it takes is a little bit of attention on your clit before you are ready to slide two fingers into your core. The noise you make at the feeling of the stretch is salacious. The man echoes you with a sound that is just as dirty.

It spurs you on and you burrow deeper.

You curl your fingers until your legs are weak and quivering. You long to sink to your knees so you can finish in a more comfortable position yet you can't. An invisible force is preventing you.

It keeps you on display.

Just like the statues to your left.

You wonder if it is for the man's benefit.

You try to focus on him but it is impossible to do so through the trembling glaze over your eyes. All you are able to sense from him now is the sound of the rhythmic pump of his palm around his cock and his panting breaths.

Desperate whines escape your lips. You are teetering on the edge of an orgasm but you can't seem to lose your balance and fall into the abyss. The unsteadiness in your legs is too much of a distraction. You rub at your clit again in the hope that it will bring the satisfaction you need.

It does nothing.

You are so frustrated by your body's disobedience that it is almost painful.

"Please. Please. Please," you mutter under your breath.

A voice suddenly speaks next to you ear. A velvet voice with the timbre of a thunder rumble. It pours like a soothing syrup into your brain and commands you to do exactly as it bids.

"Let go."

You climax intensely, crying out in relief, squirting all over your fingers and onto your hand as you legs finally give way.

The fall jolts you back into consciousness and you wake with a barely contained scream of pleasure in your throat and adrenaline lighting up your nervous system.

Daylight is peeking through a little gap in the curtains. You take a deep, grounding breath.

That was obscene.

The context, the actions, the sounds. That sultry voice at the end. From the throbbing in your vulva and the twitching of your legs it seems like you didn't just finish in the dream.

There is really no point in looking it up in the dream decoding book.

You were clearly horny on a subconscious level. Or craving attention, hence the exhibitionist behaviour. The latter is not usually in your nature to seek out but if it is the reason, you might not have to wait long before the desire is fulfilled. There is a work event happening this evening that may require you to accept an award and address the crowd.

You love this time of year where community projects get recognition; a nomination alone is a sure-fire way of garnering publicity which in turn helps the charity's outreach.

But first, a normal day at the office. You throw back the covers and go straight to the bathroom to rinse off the evidence of your wet dream.

---------------------------------------------

Your right hand connects with the metal push plate of the function space's front door. The heels of your boots click and clack as you cross the threshold, moving from floor board to paving slab.

It's fortuitous that you brought a long, thick coat with you this evening for the wind is wintery and unforgiving. You stay close to the wall of the building to try and shelter from it as much as possible.

The pavements are slick with recent precipitation, streetlamps bouncing off of the water with caustic white light.

Then you see him; a figure cut from shadow.

He's breathing in such a laboured way that you wonder if he is sick.

Your phone is still inside the venue, currently being guarded by a colleague along with your bag but it wouldn't take long to retrieve it and call for medical assistance.

"You okay?" Concern colours the simple question.

His reply comes quickly and assertively, "I am well, thank you."

You nod, not entirely convinced for the stranger's response was as stiff as his posture, and reach inside the pocket of your coat for the box of cigarettes and lighter stashed within.

You settle one of the sticks between your lips and use your thumb to bring forth a flame. The crackle of smouldering paper and tobacco perforates the damp air and you take a needy drag. The nicotine taints and tantalises in equal measure, filling you with guilt and relief. You've been trying to give up but the little voice inside your head had won this evening. You close your eyes and focus on the pleasure it brings before flicking some ash into the tray mounted to the wall.

Your attention now back on your surroundings, the stranger steps into the scope of the streetlight. The angles of his cheekbones, jaw and nose are accentuated to an incredible extent in the gleam. His dark hair is being buffeted about the wind, locks of it very close to falling in the blue eyes that are unwaveringly trained on you. He begins to talk again, showcasing his deep baritone.

"I'm afraid I wasn't entirely honest with you just now. It is not how I envisaged our first interaction transpiring. I hope that you can forgive me for my deception."

You laugh nervously and take another quick drag. "It makes no difference if you're honest with me or not. I don't know you."

"You are correct. You don't know me. Not yet -"

"Oh," you cut in quickly. "I'm not looking for a hook up."

While you cannot deny that he is arrestingly beautiful, you are technically working and have never been one for one-night stands.

"You mistake my meaning. I have been searching for you for so long. I oftentimes doubted your existence however I was wrong and I find myself humbled to be in your presence at last."

The grandiose declaration is one of the stranger things you have heard in your life and you used to deal with drunken patrons when you worked at a university bar. Maybe he was intoxicated; it would explain a lot.

"Look, this might work on other people but I just came out here to have a cigarette -"

It is his turn to interrupt you now. "You will have no need of those going forward. Your addiction to them will be replaced by me."

"Excuse me?"

You are trying to sound incredulous, however, inside you are rather frightened by the turn the conversation has taken. His gaze is not helping either.

The crystalline eyes are embodying every part of the descriptor; a hard, chill inducing blue. Ash drops from the smouldering cigarette as a tremble of fear rattles through you. The man sees this and the ice suddenly melts to a warmer hue.

His tone turns soft and gentle. "We are supposed to be together. Our union is fated."

He's staring at you expectantly even after your two attempts at rejection. You swiftly stub out the part-finished cigarette and take ownership in ending the interaction.

"I've had enough of this. I'm going back inside now. If you try and follow me, I will speak to the venue's management. If you are still here when I leave later, I will call the police."

You turn towards the door.

He calls your name. Your full name. Middle name too.

Despite your brain chanting at you to go inside, you can't stop yourself from looking back at him. "H-how do you know my full name?"

The profound rumble of his voice resonates deep in your ears. "I know everything about you, Y/N."

He's right in front of you now. His posture is bordering between desperate and predatory. Like he can't quite decide if he is seeking comfort from you, or if he wants to consume you.

You are fumbling behind you to find the door handle. "Please get away from me," you say hoarsely.

He reaches for your hand.

You jump back and struggle to get out of his grip but his strength is inhumanly strong. His skin of his palm is glacial against yours and yet somehow, the touch makes heat snake up your arm and settle in your chest.

You become aware of an internal feeling that you've always had, like that of chapped lips. Low level but something that constantly nags. Something that existed every minute of your life until the moment he touched you.

You grip his hand and look up at his face in astonishment.

"Good. That's it. Look into my eyes. See what you know is there."

You do as he says, totally stunned by the depths that seem to reside within them. It's as if there are universes suspended inside. Maybe there are. Perhaps you could float among the celestial bodies if you asked him to show you how.

You feel so alive and overstimulated that you welcome the delirious thoughts taking over your mind.

You welcome him.

It's like there is a cord connected between your heart and his that is shortening in length. The intensity scares you.

You obey, feet moving of their own accord and then you are standing before him, just centimetres apart.

"Give into the pull," he urges darkly, sensing your anxiety.

He smiles triumphantly and presses you flush against his body.

His free hand comes up to cup your jaw, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. More heat sears through you from the additional skin-on-skin contact.

Your peripheral vision closes tighter and tighter with every passing moment. The outside world is gone.

He leans in further and you wonder hazily if he is going to kiss you or break your neck. Both options are equally viable given the behaviour he has exhibited. You keep staring at him regardless.

His irises flash silver as he intones his next sentence. "Y/N, I claim you as my soulmate."

-------------------------------------

Taglist: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt

"Am I your dream girl? You think of me in bed. But you could never hold me. You like me better in your head."

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obaex · 8 months

Text

reading between the lines - rafe cameron

summary: rafe tries, and fails, to tell you how he feels. or does he?

word count: 3.2k

a/n: obx writing week has been a pleasure! thank you all for reading and sharing your amazing talent and for @surftrips for making it happen! this is for day 7: 5+1 trope with rafe. fair warning i am in my soft rafe era and i may never ever come out of it ♡

song inspo: tell me you love me / galantis

The sun had just set below the horizon, leaving a midnight blue sky in its wake, scattered with stars. Rafe was settled comfortably around a small bonfire in his backyard with several friends, the warm flicker of the flames setting their faces aglow and fending off the cool night air that whispered the end of summer.

He heard you before he saw you, heard your sweet laugh that was genuine and innocent and pure. He lifted his head to search for you, his eyes landing on you, and for a moment, all he could do was stare.

You had been together for a few months now, but he was certain he’d never get used to how beautiful you were. He took in your long eyelashes, your bright eyes, the way your cheeks were pink and kissed with freckles that along with your lightened hair told of a summer spent at the beach. His eyes fell to your lips and his tongue unconsciously ran against his own at the thought of how you tasted. Before long you turned and caught his eye, conscious of his attention. He didn’t look away, he let his gaze linger warmly on you, bold and confident and it made your insides feel like melted sugar. He smiled widely at you, a smile that left dimples on his cheeks and crinkled his eyes, one that you couldn’t help but reciprocate.

As you made your way over to the bonfire, he made room for you next to him, even though there was barely any room to be had, adamant that he wanted you by his side, always. You took it gratefully as you snuggled into him, his arm wrapping around you, as you nuzzled into his neck before pressing a kiss to his jawline, to his cheek. He turned his head to capture your lips with his own, quick but searing, before pulling away to meet your gaze. “Hey pretty girl” he said.

You both fell into the conversation around you, but his arm never left you and his fingers traced patterns in your back. As the flames dwindled and the wind picked up, you let out a small, involuntary shiver and goosebumps ran up your bare arms and legs. Rafe felt you shake and unwound his arm from you. You were about to protest when he pulled his hooded sweatshirt over his head and offered it to you.

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Positive” he replied, smirking at you.

You smiled sweetly, wanting to squeal at how sweet the gesture was as you pulled the hoodie over your head. It was still warm from his body heat and his proximity to the fire, and it comforted you instantly, not to mention it smelled like him, overwhelmingly so, like clean laundry and expensive cologne. Being totally wrapped in his scent was intoxicating. The sweatshirt was big on your small frame and you laughed at how far the sleeves hung over your hands, how it engulfed you, how that felt like a metaphor for the way you felt all consumed by him. You blushed, thinking that you probably looked a little silly. Rafe blushed more deeply, thinking he’d never seen something so goddamn perfect. He pulled you onto his lap to hold you closer against him and keep you warm, hoping he was able to convey with his actions if not with his words what you meant to him.

The following weekend was Topper’s annual end-of-the-summer party. Rafe was surrounded by his friends, an endless supply of booze, and the steady thump of music; until now that had always been enough to make for a memorable night, but without you there, the whole party felt dulled. He knew you were going to be late, but that left him feeling antsy and on edge. He was excited to see you, but also nervous for a reason he couldn’t explain. He tried to stop the sweaty feeling in his palms, the quickened pace of his heart as every moment ticked by, drinking enough to numb his senses, losing track after his seventh or eighth beer.

When you finally did arrive, it took everything in him not to scoop you into his arms and carry you out to his truck. He didn’t want to share you with all of these people, he wanted to be anywhere else, alone with you.

You stopped to say hi to a few people before he watched your eyes search the crowd for him, bringing a tingling warmth to his chest. When your eyes landed on him, the way you lit up for him sent a bolt of lightning from his heart to his toes; he set his beer down and met you halfway, coaxing his foggy brain and loosened limbs to focus on you as he folded you into his arms. You hugged him warmly, pressing your whole body into him and he lifted you just off the ground as his arms wrapped tightly around you and you giggled with joy. His head was spinning from the beer just as much from the feeling of your warm breath on his neck. All he could think was how good you smelled, like amber and vanilla, and how he didn’t want to let you go, how he wanted to linger in your scent and the feeling of your body against his. When you finally unwound from each other, the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could hold them back.

“You’re s’goddamn pretty. I jus’want you all t’myself, couldn’wait f’you to be here, miss’dyou all night, beaut’ful, y’make me feel funny” he slurred in one run on sentence, his brain registering far too late what had just come out of his mouth.

“What?” you asked, smiling, a curious but happy look on your face as you pressed onto your tiptoes to hear him better over the music. Your arms curled around his neck, and your proximity made him feel warm and happy and sleepy, and it lulled his inhibitions just enough to form the words that the rest of him had failed to understand until now…

“I think I’m fallin’—"

“Y/N!!!!” a voice shouted before Rafe could finish his thought. You glanced over your shoulder to see Kelce teetering with a near-empty bottle of tequila in his hand, which he held in the air and then took a swig from, giving Rafe the moment he needed to shake his own head clear. What had he been saying? He couldn’t remember. The thought was lost as he glared at his best friend.

You laughed at Kelce before looking back at Rafe, his eyes were half closed and a lopsided, goofy smile sat on his face as he looked down you.

“Wait, what were you saying?” you asked again. You’d thought you’d heard the beginning of something, something you’d been hoping to hear for a while, but maybe it was only wishful thinking, it was impossibly loud in here, and Rafe was clearly drunk.

“Dunno baby, but you’re really pretty” he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek, though he couldn’t help but feel he had let something important slip through his fingers.

Rafe had been adamant that night that you come home with him, nearly begging you, a pout deep set on his lips. When that didn’t work, he whispered promises to you in the back of your uber that only you could hear: exactly how he would cuddle you, kiss you, tease you just the way you liked before a slew of other things that had you extremely flustered. Truthfully, you wanted nothing more, but he was in no shape for half the things he had said as it took nearly all of his stamina just to lean on you as you pulled him inside, upstairs and tucked him in bed.

When he woke up the next morning alone, he was pissed, and his head pounded as he tried to remember all the things he’d said…or nearly said to you.

It was tradition that the day after the end-of-summer party, you all went to the beach, no matter the weather, and this year was no different. He checked his phone to see several texts from you that took the edge off his anger.

Fuck. He vaguely remembered the car ride home and he buried his head into his pillow at the reminder of his awful attempts to get you to stay as a new text came in.

He sent a quick text back as he pulled himself out of bed, got dressed and came downstairs. He was still mad at himself that he’d gotten too drunk to spend the night with you, frustrated that he’d let his nerves get the best of him, but he was set on making it up to you today.

As he made his way outside, he could see the dust kicking up at the end of the driveway as Topper’s bike flew down the gravel path before it skidded to a stop in front of him and wobbled. As the dust cleared, Rafe could see you unwinding from the back of the bike as Topper followed, stepping off the bike and pulling off his helmet, swaying slightly as he looked at you and giggled.

“Top, where the fuck is her helmet?” Rafe asked, as his blood began to boil.

The two of you looked up at him, caught off guard by his tone and the anger on his face.

“Read my fucking lips, Topper, why wasn’t she wearing a helmet? Why didn’t you give her yours, jackass?”

Topper looked down at his helmet, up at you and back to Rafe in exaggeratedly slow movements, like he was trying to piece it together himself. Rafe recognized the look in his eyes immediately.

“Are you fucking high!?” he shouted as he grabbed the front of Topper’s shirt, causing him to drop the helmet as his feet.

“Dude, it’s all good,” Topper replied, a strained smile on his face. Rafe could see his bloodshot eyes, could smell the weed on him.

“What is the matter with you? You don’t fucking drive with her when you’re high, she could have gotten hurt! Goddamnit Topper!” he said as he shoved him, nearly knocking him off his unsteady feet.

Your eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape as you took in the scene in front of you, watching as Rafe’s chest heaved.

“Hey, I’m alright” you said, resting a hand on his arm in an effort to calm him down. He looked down at you and you could see his breathing start to slow as he took in your eyes, your smile before he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you, strong and protective.

“M’sorry I yelled, it’s just – I didn’t want – you’re - it’s important to me that you’re safe” he said as he stumbled over his words, trying and failing to explain the racing feeling in his heart.

Sarah woke up that night to the sound of clattering and banging. She rolled over to check her phone and saw that it was just after 3:00 AM. She heard the cacophony again coming from downstairs and realized, annoyed, that it had to be her brother, the only person stupid enough to be that loud at this hour, probably drunk or high. She pulled herself out of bed, wanting to get to him before her dad did, not willing to sit through another all-out-brawl between the two of them. But nothing in a million years could have prepared her for what she found.

Every single light was on in the kitchen and every surface was covered with flour, bowls, and baking utensils. Rafe sat squarely in the middle of it all, his hands covered in dough that he was rolling into balls and placing on a cookie sheet.

“Are you… baking?” Sarah asked, incredulous, her voice still groggy from sleep.

His head whipped to her, caught off guard. “What?” he asked.

“Are you baking?” she repeated, coming closer, trying to get a glimpse of what was in the oven.

“Yeah, so what if I am?” he said defensively, trying to shrug off her tone of surprise.

“Rafe, the most I’ve ever seen you do is make a bowl of cereal. It’s 3:00 in the morning, what are you doing?”

He grumbled something, and tried to refocus his efforts, a tint on his cheeks

She looked at her brother, perplexed.

“What?” she said.

“I can’t make cookies for my girlfriend!?” he replied snappily. “She said chocolate chip cookies were her favorite, and you know mom’s were the best, so I’m making her some. Happy?” he said defensively.

Sarah’s sleepy mind slowly put the pieces together: her brother, that look on his face, you, their mom’s cookies.

“Oh” she said as the lightbulb went off in her head.

“OH!” she said again, louder this time, her eyebrows raised, a huge smile cresting her face as she punched him in the arm, excitedly. “I never thought I’d see the day! Rafe Cameron, you’re in lo—"

“Go back to bed, Sarah” he said, interrupting her, his cheeks now crimson, that familiar thumping in his heart fast and unceasing at the words that had nearly come out of her mouth.

She smirked knowingly at him before turning to go back upstairs.

You were sitting on your front porch swing reading, trying to soak in the last warm rays of the summer sun when Rafe’s truck pulled into your driveway. You hadn’t been expecting him and your heart nearly leapt out of your chest in excitement and surprise. He smiled widely upon seeing you as he climbed your front steps and you ran to him, pulling him into a kiss that deepened quickly, your body moving on auto-pilot as soon as you felt his lips on yours, constantly begging for more as you tangled your fingers into the hair at the base of his neck and teased his lips with your tongue. You could feel him smiling against you, a laugh escaping his lips that pulled you apart. “Mm’not what I came here for, gorgeous, but I’m certainly not complaining” he said as he brandished a box he had been holding behind his back. “I brought you a little something, can I join you?”

You nodded and pulled him back to where you were sitting. He draped your legs across his lap and his eyes remained transfixed on you, his smile never leaving his lips. “Open it” he said, nodding to the box in your hands.

You unfolded it to find a pile of chocolate chip cookies, your favorite. You squealed with excitement before realizing that they looked homemade.

“Rafe, did you make these?” you asked, unable to hide the shock in your voice.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I did, yeah, so I’m sorry if they’re not the best, but, it’s my mom’s recipe… I haven’t made them in a long time but I think they turned out okay.”

Your eyes widened as you looked at him, to the cookies and back again. “Rafe Cameron, this is the sweetest thing that anyone has ever done for me and it means the world to me that you would share this piece of yourself, of your mom, of her memory with me.” Your chin wobbled, briefly, as you were overcome with emotion at his gesture.

“Hey, hey, no crying, it’s cookies, they’re supposed to make you happy” he said, laughing as he reached out a hand to cup your face.

“What did I do to deserve this?” you asked, laughing back, still completely enamored by his gesture as your eyes sparkled and traced his face.

He blushed and his eyes darted to the floor for a moment, feeling nervous under your gaze.

“Look, I’m not great with words or saying stuff… things that you need to hear from me. I try, you know? To let you know how I feel…” he started.

You thought about the feeling of his strong arms around you when you needed him most, you thought about every way he kissed you: soft, languid and sweet, intense, demanding and passionate. You thought about the feeling of his fingers ghosting over your skin and way your insides curled at his unwavering attention. You thought about the way he fought unceasingly to keep you safe, to protect you, the way he let everyone know you were his. You thought of him reading his mom’s slanted script on an old recipe card to make you the box of cookies that now sat in your lap and you realized Rafe had always conveyed exactly how he felt; you knew it without him saying it, and you smiled at him, your heart quickening as you nodded. “I know… well, I think I know what you mean?” you said, smiling, laughing, trying not to read too far into what he was trying to say, trying not to get ahead of yourself, to get your hopes up.

“Well, you should know for sure. I don’t want you second guessing or trying to figure it out. You mean… a lot to me…I know we’ve only been together for a little while but I think about you constantly. You make me nervous as hell, you’re so beautiful and you’re incredibly sweet, I literally don’t know what you’re doing with me half the time –”

“Rafe” you said.

“Nah, I‘m serious, like I don’t even know how I got here, how I got you, but I need you to know I don’t take it for granted. I’d do anything for you, anything to keep you safe, anything to make you happy…”

You nodded encouragingly, as your eyes traced his face, still trying to read between the lines of what he was saying as he continued.

“…You make me feel important, confident, like I can do anything, because you believe in me, because I have you by my side. You’re my #1 priority… I-- alright, fuck it, I love you. I’m in love with you.”

Your smile radiated as one hand came to cover your mouth and you grinned ear to ear.

He let out a deep sigh before meeting your eyes earnestly and saying it again. “I love you, Y/N. I’m in love with you.”

You crawled into his lap and pressed your lips to his, your heart racing in your chest and your hands shaking as you cupped his face, his arms immediately circling you, grasping you tightly as he kissed you back.

“Say it again” you mumbled against his lips.

He laughed, kissing you again. “I love you” he said against your lips, kissing you more deeply.

“One more time?” you asked, breathless.

“I love you” he said, his hands bunching in your shirt as he wrapped his arms more tightly around you, his heart slamming in his chest.

“You’ve made me feel loved every day, Rafe Cameron, but it means everything to hear you say it. I love you too.”

taglist: @ietss, @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @sweetestdesire, @voidcameron, @one-sweet-gubler, @m-indkiller, @diary-of-jj

#rafe cameron #obx rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe fluff #obx fanfiction

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roturo · 9 months

Text

I DO - geto suguru x reader

summary: love makes us do stupid things. stupid things to never notice how you loved him. how he lost you.

warnings: angst, age-gap, nsfw(?), childhood friends, a lot of metaphors (?).

A/N: I never realized how much I loved writing angst and how tranced I could be while writing it. This was supposed to be smut but idk, felt depressed.

TUMBLR IS BASED ON A REGLOG SYSTEM. PLEASE LEAVE A COMENT AND REBLOG MY WORK ><

How you call it? … Lover? Delusional?

Ah, hopeless romantic.

They know you as the hopeless romantic in jujutsu tech.

But, being in love with one person for your whole life and feelings were never reciprocated would it still count as a hopeless romantic even if you keep that hope for it?

Geto Suguru. Your childhood crush, school crush, and what you like to call him, soulmate.

Everyone in your social circle knows you’re in love with Geto, and you’re pretty sure people outside the circle know it too. You saw him as someone to admire, to follow his path, to be as strong as him.

He was 12, you were 8. But, until this day, him being 25, and you being 21, those feelings and thoughts about him wouldn’t leave anytime soon.

An amazing guy like him, teached you fighting techniques, helps you with your studies, and even brings you out with his friends every once in a while. He was the prince of your dreams.

You never said out loud you had a crush on him. Not even accepting it. But everyone knew because of the way your eyes light up when you see him, the high pitch in your voice when you get nervous around him, feeling protected by him.

You suppose he’s dumb because how could everyone know but him?

He had you confused, wrapped around his finger, you’re sure he likes you too. The way his cheeks get pinkish when you compliment him, how he would grab your hand unconsciously while walking, how he would kiss your neck when you’re alone, but never your lips, how he knew every part of your body, just slight touches, nothing to call it something more, and knowing every single little fact about you.

But now you feel stupid, foolish.

Guess you played yourself, might even be your fault.

Or maybe you should have never played him so hard.

It hit you like a shot in the heart the first time you saw him with her. She was beautiful, funny, and smart. But oh no, you won’t let her love him like you do, no one could.

They all know nobody could love Suguru Geto as you. He even said it himself.

“She’s like the sun covering my body with love. The water in the shower touches my skin and sees everything about me without any bad thought. Nobody could compare with her, I don’t even love myself as much as she does.”

So why are you afraid of losing everything you thought you couldn’t?

And it’s like she knew how much this hurts you. It’s like she wanted this all along. She could be everything, but a good person? Oh no. At least not towards you.

She would often make back-handed comments about you, treat you like shit when Geto’s not around, humiliate you.

She is evil.

“Trust me Suguru, she’s not the one.”

“Why do you care so much? Everyone seems fine with her, but you? Why do you hate her so much? She’s been nice with you, with everyone! Just stop being annoying and leave me and my relationship alone.”

“… Suguru-”

“No. I don’t wanna hear anything else related to her and how you don’t like her. Stop it. Please.”

It felt like your whole world was falling apart. What happened to the silly little dates at midnight for some ice cream? The sudden hugs? Texting everyday? Listening to each other?

Maybe he was a problem right from the start. Never facing these feelings, never running away, guess that’s your fault.

It hit you like a poisonous dart. You said you wouldn’t let her love him like you do, hold him like you do, know him like you do.

So why are you stepping out? Leaving school? Starting a ‘normal life’?

You stopped being related to them, to him. And you wished he never fell in love with her.

And after some time, he wished that too.

He was stupid, foolish.

Guess he played with himself, it’s his fault.

It hit him like a shot in the heart. Knowing he fucked up this time. You were beautiful, funny, smart, and kind. But he never loved you like you loved him.

They all knew he was stupid for letting you go.

“She’s just really sentimental and sensible, she’s still very young to understand relationships, a childhood crush it’s something impossible to really happen, she just needs to learn that.”

So why is he afraid of losing everything he thought he could?

And it’s like he always knew he fucked this up the moment he treated you bad. That he would regret this, but love made everyone stupid.

Did he really feel love towards her? Love her like he loved you?

He was an idiot.

“I’m sorry I never appreciated you like I should’ve. I’m sorry for losing the chance to love you like you loved me. I’m sorry for leaving you.”

It hit him like a poisonous dart. He said you would come back, stop loving him.

So why is he crying here in a dusty vault? Where were you? Why you left?

You stopped being related. To them, to him.

And after some time, nothing happened.

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seungmoonandstars · 5 months

Text

𝒮𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒟𝒶𝓉𝑒

Kim Seungmin/Female Reader

wc: 7.1k

rating: Mature, NON-explicit (part 2)

→ PART ONE

Part 2 of 4

The sun is coming through the trees and leaving freckles of light over Seungmin’s face and chest. His eyes are closed, hands propping him up as he leans back and stares up at the sky.

You’ve been meaning to ask the question bouncing around in your head for several minutes, but you can’t stop staring at him like this. You reach out and gently shake his foot until he looks at you.

“Hey, sorry…I didn’t mean to get quiet.”

- Seungmin is tired.

Car rides are his worst enemy if he’s trying to stay awake, especially if he ends up in the backseat. His head keeps swaying side to side. The ride is far too smooth, and he feels like a baby being lulled to sleep.

The car turns left, then right, then right again. He doesn’t need to feel it come to a stop to know he’s home.

As happy as he is to finally be done with traveling—for now, he doesn’t think he has the energy to get himself back on two feet.

He hits his neatly made bed immediately. No unpacking, no snack, no checking text messages. There is zero time between thinking about sleep and passing out; there is only a deep dreamless sleep.

____

It’s dark and warm in his room when he wakes up. His eyes stay closed tight, but he can feel how late it is. He knows he’s been sleeping far too long. Nobody bothered waking him for dinner or checking up on him, because that would have been useless. He doesn’t even mind that he missed the Giants game.

He feels much better now, until he looks down at his phone to check the time. The first problem is it’s already past midnight. The second problem is he has 43 notifications to open.

Seungmin scans over them to see if he missed anything important. Most of them look deletable, but a few he duly notes, and definitely needs to answer in the morning.

He opens the text from Choonhee, though.

Are you here for the long weekend?

He doesn’t mind texting her this late. He sends back a quick response without much thought: “I’m here until Wednesday!

Time to shower and eat.

Seungmin stands in the shower for a good fifteen minutes—clearing his mind, easing the tension he always holds in his shoulders— before finally, somewhere in the back of his memory, the part where he puts things and never ever remembers them…he remembers something.

“Oh…” he cups his face in his hands and scrubs at his cheeks, “shit.”

He takes his time getting out. An extra half an hour accidentally ignoring you isn’t going to make much of a difference now. Hair gets dried; fresh clothes thrown on. He clicks the fan in his bedroom so it pushes the warm air around. The cool night air is at least trying to find it’s way in.

Now he notices how hungry he is. Might as well find something in the kitchen before getting into a conversation. One that goes well, hopefully.

A bowl of oi-muchim, a beer, and his phone in hand, Seungmin makes himself comfortable on the couch. He pulls up Choonhee’s text messages again and hopes she still awake…

“Is it too late to text her? Do you think she’s up?”

He sends it off and tries not to watch his phone for her reply. He clicks the tv on and eats, but before his second bite, his phone goes off.

She won’t mind if it’s you

Seungmin hopes Choonhee’s right. And hopes you’ll still actually want to speak after two months of accidental silence.

Now he puts his food down, drinks some of his beer, and thinks…”what am I supposed to say at one in the morning?” He mumbles it to himself. But he starts typing anyway, letting his thumbs and his heart do the work. If he thinks too much, nothing will ever come out.

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m texting you so late. And also sorry for not getting back to you sooner. I hope you can forgive me. I’m in town for a few days if you’re interested in seeing each other.”

He reads it and rereads it. Then sends it away. It’s the best he can do.

The rest of the night is nothing but a long wait. The nap he took served perfectly as a good nights sleep, so the next few hours are spent catching up on baseball highlights, finishing a drama, and then silently obsessing over whether or not he’ll get a text back while a new show plays out in front of him .

At 7:30, Seungmin’s phone buzzes in his hand. He’s sound asleep, but still holding onto it. It wakes him right away, but it takes a moment before he can remember where he is, and what he’s doing there. Too much sleep makes his head fuzzy, and yesterday and this morning must have been a combined eleven hours.

He looks at the notification and remembers. Only the name on the screen registers in his mind before he unlocks his phone and sits up. He shakes the sleep from his head and rubs his eyes before reading…

I would love to see you

A sigh of relief. You’re not mad. Seungmin’s heartbeat picks up in his chest as he types.

“Tonight? Or today. Any time is good.”

This reply takes a little longer. He gets up to change just in case he has to run out the door to meet you. Your reply comes a few minutes later. Seungmin reads it as he’s jumping into his shorts.

I’m free all day. Do you want to come over for breakfast?

“Come over for breakfast? Are you going to make me breakfast?” he thinks out loud. He’s hoping that’s what you mean.

“I’ll be there in an hour”

____

Your internal alarm hates you. At precisely 7:25, you’re awake. Even on the weekends, you can’t sleep in. It takes a couple of minutes before you can even think about moving, but the warmth in the room and the sun peeking in eventually forces you up. You can only take so much.

Your phone, charging on the nightstand, buzzes softly. Probably an email. It buzzes again. You thought you put it on sleep mode last night, but maybe not. It’s a miracle nothing woke you up. You grab it and unplug it…

Email Spam email Work email you never opened or cleared Instagram

Text from Seungmin

“Seungmin,” you say his name out loud in case you’re still a little bit asleep. Seungmin, who you haven’t had a text from in months; who has probably been very busy and very tired when he isn’t busy, sent you a text at one in the morning.

You open it quickly, butterflies in your stomach, and read. You read it a few times. His texts are always a little longer, never one or two words. And you always read him in his voice. You’ve listened to him singing and speaking enough now that you hear it in your sleep. You don’t have to think much about your reply.

“I would love to see you”

____

There’s little time to pick up the apartment and figure out what you’re going to make for him. You do your best with what little time you have. Shower, hair, makeup…outfit. You probably should have given yourself a little more time. Too late now, he’ll be on his way soon.

It’s been nearly seven months since your blind date, but it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long. The time between his last text and today somehow felt longer. You feel like it’s going to be a first impression all over again, so you really want to give him your best. Maybe even better than last time, now that you know what you’re getting into.

In the kitchen, you start pulling things out to make, and you’re relieved to find you have something to cook for him.

You hope he likes American breakfast. You do know he likes coffee. Just a few days ago a care package came from your parents; coffee, snacks…things you miss from home. You pull out the bag of beans and start grinding.

Minutes later, or at least it feels like minutes, (the full hour, plus 20 extra minutes, has passed) you hear you phone buzz. Before you can get to it, the intercom buzzes. You grab your phone and run to the door.

“Hi I’m here”

You smile at his message and let him into the lobby before texting back, “543.” You’re surprised and a little flattered that he remembered where your building was and was confident enough to come without even confirming.

He sends a smiling emoji in reply.

Your back is against the door, eyes closed. Your picturing him walking to the elevator, pushing the button, waiting…

The elevator here is pretty slow…

He gets on and hits the 5th floor button. It comes straight up without stopping, considering the early hour. Everyone else in this building is definitely sleeping in. He turns right and walks, maybe a little hesitantly, toward your apartment, looks at the number on the door, then at your text.

He knocks gently. Three soft little knocks. You take in a deep breath; you’re more nervous than you thought you’d be. The deadbolt clicks.

When you crack the door he’s smiling down at you. You pull it open the rest of the way and stand there awkwardly for a moment. You feel like one of your eight-year-olds trying to find the right words in English. You stupidly breath out a wow and desperately hope he didn’t hear it

He stands there with one hand in the pocket of his shorts. The other hand is holding a paper bag. He swings it a little as he takes a careful step over your threshold.

“Morning.” You finally manage to say.

“Good morning,” he closes the door behind him, and his smile grows as he moves closer to you.

His face looks a little different. It’s been long enough that you’re thinking his braces have changed his smile, or maybe he’s just gotten older. The spring sun has turned his skin a few shades darker compared to October. His hair is dark and straight across his forehead; different then the last time you saw him. You’ve also gotten used to seeing him only in videos and photos. None of that does him justice. In front of you, he’s better—and you forgot how much better.

“Are you okay?” Seungmin reaches his hand toward you as if he’s going to touch your cheek, but he stops just short of you, and his hand falls slowly.

“Yeah, yeah…sorry,” you set your hand on your face where his hand should have been. “I uhhm,” you still can’t seem to find the right words. So much for a new first impression. Now what?

You put your other hand around his waist and pull yourself to him. You’re relieved when he reciprocates the embrace. He holds onto you for a while, not letting up on his grip.

“I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch.”

Even though you had plenty of old texts to return to; to re-convince yourself that Seungmin liked you and wanted to see you again, you still needed this physical reassurance. The last two months were a lot more lonely than you care to admit, and part of you was starting to let go.

“It’s okay, I know you’re busy.”

“Still a bad excuse.” He loosens his hold on you, but doesn’t let go completely. The bag he’s holding shakes a little in his hand. “I brought this for you.”

“Another gift? You’re making me look bad.” You slide away from his grip (very reluctantly) and head toward the kitchen.

“Well, you did make me coffee. It smells good.”

Seungmin follows closely behind. The kitchen is a little bit of a mess, but cooking and cleaning at the same time is not one of your strong suits. You grab a few things and toss them in the trash, the sink, the dishwasher. You don’t even realize he’s right behind you until you turn again to grab two clean glasses.

“I can bring you your coffee. It’s a mess in here, you don’t need to see this.”

“Oh I don’t mind. You are definitely a messy cook, though. You should clean as you go!”

“Believe me, I try.” You pour the cooled coffee into a glass over ice. “I hope you like this…have you ever had Kona coffee?”

Seungmin shakes his head and smiles. You briefly wonder if he realizes how cute it is, then you pour some for yourself, “I’m sure you’ll like it.” He takes it from you and follows as you lead him out of the kitchen and into the living room.

You sit. He sits, and sips his coffee, then adjusts so he’s a little closer to you.

“How long have you been in town?” You bring your knees up to your chest and turn your body to him.

“I got in yesterday afternoon, but I fell asleep and woke up very late.”

“Oh, that explains the late text.”

“Yes, hopefully it didn’t wake you. Choonhee told me you wouldn’t mind if I texted you so late.”

“It didn’t wake me up. It was a nice surprise this morning.”

He’s bouncing his legs up and down; knees are moving together, then apart, then together again. A nervous tick, maybe. All you do know is that the movement of his thighs is distracting. You tear your eyes away, and when you do, he’s looking at you.

“How have you been?” He asks, and he’s not just making conversation. The way he speaks is sincere. “Anymore blind dates?” He whispers the last part.

“Oh, no…no,” you stare into your coffee and shake your head. “Nothing special, not since our date.”

He smiles, but says nothing.

“I did keep up with you. I caught a few of your lives, checked YouTube for new videos…”

Seungmin laughs and lays his head back against the couch, “next time we don’t see each other for a while, I will call, and we can have a real live.”

“Is that a promise?”

He thinks for a moment, “yes, promise. I’ll be a better texter…also.” He adjusts and moves himself a little closer to you.

“I’ll take either.”

“I think I just…don’t know what to say sometimes. I don’t want to say something stupid, so I don’t say anything at all. And then I forget.”

“I don’t mind if you say something stupid.” You reach out and move a piece of hair out of Seungmin’s eyes. “I’d prefer it, actually. Then I can say something stupid back.”

He tilts his head and his hair falls back over his eyes. “Good to know.”

“Are you hungry?” You move his hair again.

He looks at you without answering for a very long moment. His eyes are impossibly big and dark; bottom lip a little bit red from biting down on it. Your eyes jump from the beauty mark on his cheek (you’re also thinking about how nice it is to finally see him again without makeup), to his eyes, his nose, his lips. His hair swings back down in front of his eyes.

He brings his hand up and attempts to fix his hair, but he just shakes his head again and smiles, “yes, I am. Very hungry.”

“I guess you can help me finish up,” you reach for his hand, which he happily takes, and lead him back to the kitchen. You prepped everything, but wanted it to be fresh when you sat down to eat.

“What are we having?” He looks at the counter. Four thick slices of bread and a bowl of something milky, eggs. “Oh these I can do,” Seungmin picks up an egg and holds it next to his face. “I can fry a good egg.”

“Okay, that’s your job.” You freshen his coffee while he examines the half dozen eggs in front of him. “Make however many you want.”

“Can I make all of them?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, “I have more if that’s not enough.”

“French toast?” He examines the milky batter next to the slices of bread. “I’ve had it before, but not for a very long time.”

“Is that okay? I can always make something else.” You turn the burner on low and let the pan get warm.

“No, I want to try your french toast.”

You reach for the butter, taking great care to reach around him by placing your hand on the belt of his shorts. He watches you closely as you dip each slice of bread into the batter, and when the butter melts completely, place them neatly in the pan.

“Nice sizzle,” he whispers. And then he laughs when you laugh. “Oh, I’m doing the eggs…” He turns his burner on low, butters his pan, and cracks four of the six eggs.

Seungmin looks at you, “I don’t want to crowd them.” He nods his head at two intact eggs. “They can wait.”

“You’re the expert.”

“They will be good, I promise.”

“Even if they’re bad, I’m sure I’ll love them.”

You hear him laugh as you tend to the French toast, shaking on the cinnamon, flipping them when they’re just crispy and brown. Seungmin ooohs at them as he seasons his eggs.

“Do you prefer maple syrup or…honey?”

“Hm?” He flips the eggs carefully and takes them off the heat before turning to the selection of toppings you’re setting out.

“Can you turn my burner off?”

He clicks it off, and Seungmin finds his way to the cupboard to get a plate. He gently sets his finished eggs onto it and cracks the remaining ones into the warm pan.

“Do you like maple syrup, or do you want honey?”

“Oh…maple syrup! And strawberries.”

“And whipped cream?”

“Dessert for breakfast…” he takes one of the strawberries and bites into it.

____

You have one dining table in your tiny apartment. It has two chairs, and it’s right next to the large picture window that sits just between the kitchen and the living room. Outside is a limited view of the city. It’s nice, though. And you can afford it.

Seungmin is watching the city slowly start to move, chin resting in the palm of his hand. He has a smile on his face–it’s very subtle on his lips, but not in his eyes. You made him sit while you got the rest of the food ready, and eventually, he listened.

“Is this enough strawberries?”

He looks at you first and smiles, then at his plate. “Yes, thank you,” he waits for you to sit before whispering jal meokgetseumnida and when you pick up your fork, he follows. Seungmin opted for maple syrup, strawberries, whipped cream. He goes for the whipped cream first, eating a forkful by itself.

“Did you make this, too?” He takes another bite of it, this time with a big piece of strawberry.

You nod.

“It’s very good, it’s not too sweet.” He cuts into his French toast now, getting a bite of all three at once.

“If everything is too sweet, it ruins it.”

“Sometimes…” he says in a singsong voice, almost a whisper.

You sneak glances at him between your own bites. He’s a quiet eater this morning, but you’re comfortable sitting there with him in the silence.

“How has work been?”

“Kind of crazy.” He takes a drink of his coffee, “we will be in Japan in two weeks, and then to the US after that.” Seungmin nods to himself and divides the four eggs between you.

They do look perfect and exactly how you usually make them. Over-easy. “That’s exciting…but I’m sure it’s very exhausting.”

He picks one up and shoves the entire thing in his mouth. You can tell he wants to speak as soon as he does it, but he chews patiently. “I wouldn’t want to do anything else, but some days it is a lot. And very tiring.”

He rests his face in his hands again. He finished his food. Now he’s looking at you with the same tired eyes he’s given you before.

“Thank you for making time for me.” You say.

He sits back in his seat, smiles, shakes his head a little.

You look at him questioningly. His mannerism are cute, but you’re not quite sure how to interpret them sometimes. “What is it?”

“I’m happy to be here.”

“You are?” When you stand to clean off the table, he stands with you to help. You let him.

“Yes,” he bites into another strawberry when he gets to kitchen sink with his dishes. “I like you. You're...you're relaxing to be around. I don't feel any pressure here."

You look at him and smile, unsure of how to respond at first. "Thank you." It's not enough of a reply, you know that, but you're a little lost for words.

"Is that a weird thing to say?"

"No! Not at all. It might be the sweetest complement a date has ever given me."

Seungmin follows you wordlessly to the living room, and sits when you sit. You move a little closer to him and relax, hoping he continues to mimic you. And he does.

“Can I ask you something…um,” he purses his lips as he thinks, covers his cheeks with his hands. “Something personal I guess. Kind of. Maybe not really personal but-”

“Yes, of course you can.” You take one of his hands away from his face and hold it in yours. It’s starting to feel like the first date, except now he seems a little different than last time. Maybe he’s worn out from performing. Maybe it’s just an off day.

He’s looking down at his hand clasped in yours, “do you ever feel like, um…I guess it’s hard to put into English.”

“That’s okay, we can use whatever words feel best for you.”

Seungmin can’t help but smile at that, and a tiny laugh escapes. “I almost forgot, you teach kids. You do sound like a teacher.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I mean…whichever language.” You pull his hand closer to you and put your other hand over it. “I’m sure between us we can figure it out.”

“You’re so sweet.”

“What’s bothering you?” You squeeze his hands even harder.

“I don’t know if you will, but if you ever meet my friends…the other members.” He stops for a moment to look at you.

You nod at him, but at the same time you’re completely unprepared for that statement. Meeting his friends? It's a big jump from where you're at right now.

“I guess I’m worried you might like them more than you like me.” His head falls back on the couch and he covers his eyes with his free hand. He sighs loudly.

“Why would you think that?” You pull him closer and shake him a little, “Seungmin…Seungmin, what do they call you when they don’t call you Seungmin?”

You get him to laugh, at least.

“Minnie,” he looks at you through his fingers. He says it again under his breath. “Min…puppy.”

“Puppy?” you scoot even closer to him, until you can almost set your chin on his shoulder. "Puppy."

He closes the gap a little.

Your forehead is almost touching his. You hold his eyes there. Then you kiss the bridge of his nose.

He leans forward and sets his head in the space between your neck and shoulder. His hair is tickling your ear, and his lips are brushing against your skin. You’re certain he can hear your blood pumping through your veins.

He lets out a long sigh. You don’t really want to say anything, you’d prefer it if the two of you could just stay like this for a little bit longer. And suddenly thinking of him leaving again (for another six months, maybe) gives you a horrible sinking feeling in your stomach.

But you need to talk to him.

“Why do you think that?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds as he searches for the right words. “There are eight of us…and sometimes I end up feeling, uhm…”

There's a long pause while you both think. He's searching for the words; you're searching his mind and his face.

”Do you feel like you're stuck behind everyone sometimes?” You think that’s what he’s getting at. You can see it in his eyes.

”Yes, I guess so. I mean, I know I am not as popular.”

It’s a hard comment for you to respond to, but the sad smile on his face makes you a little angry. Not at him, just at every single person outside of your apartment.

“Well, you’re my favorite.”

A hesitant smile appears.

Your hands close around either side of his face, and you graze your fingertips over his ears, “I’m sure the others are great, and I’m sure I could be friends with them someday...but they’re not you, and I already told you we wouldn’t make very good friends.”

You’re not sure why him being vulnerable and honest is suddenly, making you so bold, but you’re not going to question it. He’s quiet and calm as you speak, so you must be doing something right.

“I wouldn’t want anyone else here with me.” You hope he believes you, but you also aren’t a stranger to the hesitant feelings he’s obviously processing. “And I wish you could stay.”

“I can stay today!”

____

Seungmin falls asleep on your couch again. This time, though, he’s lying comfortably with his face shoved into one of your pillows and his curled up legs are almost on your lap. It’s a small couch.

You put a movie on, but he didn’t last more than a half an hour. It’s been two hours now, and you really don’t want to wake him. You’re certain he’ll get up on his own soon.

The kitchen is clean, the movie is over. You’re a little tired yourself, honestly, but you don’t think you could fall asleep while he’s here and almost in your lap. He’s a quiet sleeper, and he’s hardly moved, but you can hear his big sighs every few times he exhales.

He shifts a little when your hand touches his leg, but he settles back down immediately, and is out again. Even when your palm slides over his skin, he doesn’t move.

The soft buzz of his phone doesn’t wake him, either. But it’s going off again, and it’s the third time. You’re wondering if it’s important, but you don’t want to pry.

You run your hand over his leg again. Still nothing. It goes off again—this time it’s ringing. You can see the name on the screen without looking very hard.

“Seungmin…” You whisper. This time you gently drag your fingertips across his skin. “Seungmin?”

A little groan. His leg stretches out across your thigh. You squeeze his calf a bit and he seems to react, but not enough, so you gently move him and get up.

“Seungmin?” You kneel down until you’re face to face with him. He looks so peaceful and content, and while you hate to disturb him, you’re kind of looking forward to him slowly waking up. Saying his name isn’t getting through, though, so you place the tip of your finger at his temple and lightly trace a line down the side of his face.

A raspy mmm is all you get in return.

You bury your fingers in his hair and comb through it, kneading into his scalp a little. “Minnie?” You move down toward his neck, knead a little more, this time into a soft part of his shoulder.

His eyes open slowly, eyelashes fluttering a bit as they readjust to the sunlight in the room. He looks around before his gaze settles on you, and for the briefest moment he seems lost. But then he remembers where he is, and he smiles at you.

“Hi,” his voice is sleepy and raspy, like he hasn’t used it in a long time. He closes his eyes again.

“No no, eyes open.”

“I’m awake,” he mumbles.

“Look at me,” you lean toward his face until your noses are almost touching.

Eyes open again and he blinks a few times. “Are you gonna kiss me?” He asks, and the sleepiness in his voice is unbearable.

Yes, if he wants you to, you will kiss him. You lick your lips. But first, “your mom is calling you.”

“Oh, she’s probably wondering why she hasn’t seen me since I got home.”

“Do you want me to call and tell her you’re busy?”

Seungmin laughs and finally seems to be fully awake. He shakes his head and slowly sits himself up. “Do I have bedhead?” He rubs his eyes and runs his hands through his hair.

“A little bit.” You comb a hand through it and fix his part, “it’s cute, though.”

“Nooo it’s not,” he flattens it more and lays back against the couch. “I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“You apologize too much.”

“Do I?”

You nod and sit down next to him, “I’m glad you were comfortable enough here to fall asleep.”

“Did I snore?” He looks a little embarrassed.

“No, you were pretty quiet. You kicked a few times, though.”

He almost apologizes, but stops himself and picks up his phone. He reads through his messages and eventually types a reply to one of them. Then he turns to you, “what should we do now that I’m well rested? Are you tired?” He throws his phone down and turns the rest of his body to you, “did you sleep at all?”

“I didn’t sleep, but I’m fine.”

“Maybe you should rest,” he smiles and tilts his head. “I can leave for a while and come back, if you’d like.”

“No, I don’t want you to leave.”

He nods, “We can try another movie,” Seungmin relaxes on the couch, pillow at his side, and extends an arm. “And if you fall asleep, we’ll be even.”

You stare at him for a long moment. It’s not until he beckons you with his hand that you realize it’s an invitation to cuddle up to him. And you take it without another moment of hesitation.

Your cheek settles against his chest, open hand spread out over his stomach. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you in a little tighter.

“Are you comfortable?” He grazes his fingertips over your forearm, very slowly, as if he’s still testing the limit of touch between you.

“I am.” You feel the goosebumps jump up on your skin, and Seungmin runs his fingers over you again, like he notices.

He does notice. You hear a breathy little laugh come from him. “Good.”

Now you think you could definitely fall asleep. He’s warm, but a good warm; not like the summer heat moving around the room. You push your face further into the space under his arm and inhale.

“What should we try to watch? Maybe something funny.”

He browses through Netflix. Meanwhile, you can feel yourself slowly slipping into sleep. But you don’t want to fall asleep. Sleeping now would just be wasted time with Seungmin, so you adjust yourself and sit up a little more.

He sits up, too. His eyes are big and a little worried.

“I don’t want to fall asleep.”

“Okay, how can we keep you awake then?”

You stare at him thoughtlessly for a few seconds. Then you feel like maybe you’re blushing because he probably (probably?) isn’t thinking the same thing your sexually frustrated mind is thinking. Now you can’t get the thought out of your head. You try not to breath out like you’ve just been holding your breath for too long.

He grins a little, so you think the thought may have crossed his mind after he said it. But he stays quiet.

“Maybe we can…go for a walk,” you say it as you exhale and then take a steady breath in. At the same time, your brain is slowly unbuckling his belt and lifting his shirt. “We should go for a walk.”

“Okay, that sounds nice.”

____

It’s warm out, but not enough to be uncomfortable.

You changed into something to show a little more skin, because you might as well try to get his mind where yours is. He may not even be interested in going there.

“So, are you allowed to date yet?” It comes out before you even decide if it’s a good thing to bring up.

Seungmin giggles. You look at him and see him covering his mouth with his hand, but the smile in his eyes is obvious.

“Sorry, that came out of nowhere…”

“It’s alright. You can ask me anything you want,” he shoves his hands in his pockets and slows his walk a bit.

“Okay, I’ll just throw questions at you as I think of them.”

“Good,” he stops and bounces on the balls of his feet, “ we should get some boba.”

You were already concerned about Seungmin being recognized on your walk, and going into a boba place seems like the most obvious way for him to be seen. But you’re not going to tell him no.

“Maybe I should go in and get us both something, it seems a little busy in there.”

“If that makes you feel better, yes.”

“It doesn’t. I just don’t want you to get any unwanted attention.”

“I think I’ll be okay,” He brushes his hand against your arm and leads you across the street. “I’m not as popular or recognizable as you might think.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“If nobody expects to see me, they’ll miss me,” he hops up on the curb like a kid. It feels like he becomes more and more relaxed as the day goes on. “But…” he pulls a black face mask from his back pocket and loops it around his ears. “I’ll be much happier if you’re more comfortable.”

____

The sun is coming through the trees and leaving freckles of light over Seungmin’s face and chest. His eyes are closed, hands propping him up as he leans back and stares up at the sky.

“Hey, sorry…I didn’t mean to get quiet.”

“I have a question.”

He sits up fully and smiles, “oh I never answered you before. No dating. Openly. Technically.” He says it like he’s not sure if he’s using his English words correctly. “Maybe that wasn’t the question.”

“It wasn’t, but I did want to know that, too.” You sip your drink and think about your question again. You had it ready to go, but Seungmin said the word openly and you lost it. “Do you know that I’m older than you?”

“No, I didn’t know. But I don’t mind.” He gets on his hands and knees and crawls closer to you. “If you don’t mind that I’m younger.”

A breeze picks up and his hair is swept across his forehead. He tousles it a little until his bangs fall back in front of his eyes.

You shake your head. “No, I don’t,” the question starts forming in your head again. “Would you ever consider dating, uhm, me? I mean, let’s say you weren’t who you are and we still somehow met. Is that something you’d…consider?

Seungmin looks at you, and his eyes have certainly never been this big before. His ears and cheeks are slowly turning red. And he’s quiet. His mouth opens a bit, but no words come out. You’re afraid you asked the stupidest question you could have possibly thought of.

You made it weird.

“You don’t have to answer. I’m sorry. Please pretend I never said that.” You lift your knees to your chest and bury your face in the space there. You whimper a little to yourself and hope he doesn’t hear it.

“That’s a tough one.”

You can’t see his face, but you can imagine it.

In reality, he’s thinking and playing with his straw. Still blushing, still smiling. If you’d just lift your head and look at him, you’d see that he’s unable to contain his smirk.

“Let’s go back to you looking up at the sky and me not talking.” You relax as much as possible and your back gently hits the grass. You spread yourself out, hoping to sink into the ground.

“No,” he sips his drink and leans back on one hand. “You asked, now it’s out there forever.”

You peek up at him briefly and see his face in the sun again; eyes closed but smirk still tugging at his lips. Quiet and thoughtful.

“Seungmin?”

No answer. You look back at the sky, but you can hear him moving and getting closer. His shadow blocks the sun from your eyes, so you open them.

“Yeah?”

“It’s okay if you wouldn’t.”

Still no answer. Your eyes close again, and then he lays down next to you. It’s a nice moment, or it would be. The birds are singing and there’s the sound of the wind through the trees. The only other people around are far enough away that you can barely hear them.

You feel like you could cry.

Maybe he just isn’t very good at letting people down. He can’t find the right words to tell you it would never work, and that’s understandable, really. He’s sweet and thoughtful and kind. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He just wants to be friends.

You cover you eyes with both hands and sigh as quietly as possible.

“I would, but…I don’t know…” he hmmms and uumms a few times. “Nobody has ever asked me out before.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You don’t believe much.”

"If that's true, it's because you're intimidating."

"Me?" He's trying not to laugh. "I'm not intimidating! Am I? Is it my face? Do I look angry?"

"Okay, wrong word to use. You're too handsome to approach, I mean. I would have never, on my own, started a conversation with you had I seen you at that coffee shop by yourself."

Now you sit up and shade him from the sun. There’s a stray eyelash on his cheek, so you lean forward to gently blow it off.

His eyes flutter open. "I am not too handsome to approach." He whispers and lets himself laugh out loud.

“Okay fine…so I’m your first.”

“So you’re not taking it back?”

“You mentioned meeting your friends earlier. Did I interpret that wrong?”

He shakes his head.

“Then no, I guess I’m not taking it back.”

----

The trip back is not awkward. You expected him to keep his distance, physically and mentally, but he walks almost shoulder to shoulder with you the entire time. He hasn’t given you any type of answer yet, but you’re not worried about it. Part of you still wants to take it back and let things flow at a slower pace. This is, after all, only your second date. The other part of you is already on fire. It’s a tough line to walk.

Inside the apartment it’s gotten much warmer, and you regret not starting the AC before leaving. It’ll take forever to cool down now. You close the windows, lower the shades, and pull the curtains closed. Then you head to the couch and collapse onto it.

Seungmin makes himself at home by heading to the bathroom, then finding himself (and you) something cold to drink. You’re too distracted to even care that he’s digging around in your messy fridge.

“I forgot about this,” he grabs the bag from the side table and dangles it in front of his face. “Your gift.”

You sit up against the arm rest and smile at him, “thank you, Seungmin.” Inside is a small yellow dog plush. “Oh, it’s you!” You squeeze him and adjust the hoodie he’s wearing before bringing him up to your face. “Was he yours?”

“Yeah, he was mine.”

“He smells like you.”

“Is that a good thing?” He sits down by your folded legs and sets a hand just above your knee.

He’s touchy today...almost as much as you. And for never being properly asked out (now you wonder what else he hasn’t experienced), he knows just what to do to make you squirm.

You sit up a little more, bumping his hand off of you by mistake. He pulls it back a little, so you reach out and take it in yours. “Yeah, it is.”

He squeezes your hand and pulls you closer so he can place a kiss on your lips. You kiss back, but your brain takes a second to catch up with your mouth. When it finally does, you kiss hard enough to force him back against the couch.

Seungmin is better in action than he is with words today.

He doesn’t struggle against you or ease up, but pushes on with just as much enthusiasm.

You don’t know what to do with your hands, though. You have a lot of options. Through the hair? No. Neck? Maybe, but you don’t want to be too rough at this angle, and he might not be into that. Face? It’s a good option, and his cheeks are soft and nice to touch. And it's not too much.

Before you can decide, he takes your other hand and pulls until you have no choice but to swing a leg over his lap. And then his hands are on either side of your thighs.

You pull back and look at him.

He stares back, catching his breath. “I’m sorry I’m so bad at answering your questions.”

“You don’t have to.” You let your hands wander over his chest and down his sides. He squirms just a little; probably ticklish. When your hands settle on his belt, you lean in to kiss him again. On his lips, over his cheek. “I shouldn’t have put that on you.”

“I’m glad you did,” he looks down at your hands. “It was nice to be thought of like that. It felt good.”

“If I can see you again, that’s enough for me.”

“Is it?”

It really isn’t, but you decided on the walk back that anything with Seungmin would be okay. “If it’s what you can give me, yeah.”

Your needy, clingy heart feels like it’s crumbling, but you do your best to keep it from showing on your face.

“I can’t promise much, but I can try.”

You kiss him again, and without thinking it through properly; without thinking at all, really, you slide your fingers down and over the zipper of his shorts and feel the significant bulge that you somehow didn’t notice before.

Seungmin’s tiny oh and his hand wrapping around the offending wrist makes your stomach sink. His eyes are wide and fixed on you.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you gently push yourself away from him and sit against the opposite side of the couch, hands covering your red face. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking…”

“It’s okay,” he giggles and adjusts himself, and you watch from behind one hand as he runs a palm between his thighs. “Please don’t be upset, you didn’t do anything wrong.” His voice softens as he speaks, and the last part is a barely audible whisper, “it was my fault.” But the grin on his face only sharpens. He’s looking down at his hands as they nervously fidget with the hem of his shorts.

“Was that uh, a first, too?” You regret asking it as soon as it leaves your mouth.

He doesn’t answer right away. You’re worried he feels embarrassed about it. And you feel weird for bringing it up. The urge to get closer to him is kept under control for now.

“It’s no big deal, Minnie…if it was.”

Using his nickname breaks him from his trance, and he looks at you, blinks, nods. “Yeah, it was.”

“Did you want that? I mean, when you pulled me on top of you.” Now you scoot a little closer. “You can give me boundaries.”

“I got caught up in the moment.” He starts, thinking and picking his words carefully. “But I did want to kiss you like that.”

“Got it,” closer still, until your knee is brushing against his thigh. “You can always stop me if I go overboard. Sometimes I can be too much.”

“Is that bad? Too much is sometimes nice.”

“I guess it depends…”

You lean forward until your forehead can lay on his shoulder. His cheek rests on your head. You stay that way until you feel yourself relaxing and drifting into a half-sleep.

“I think it’s time to rest.” You don’t move, but Seungmin lifts his head.

“That’s a good idea,” He grabs the pillow to his right and puts it on your side of the couch. “Do you want me to stay?”

You lay back on the couch and sigh. “Yeah, I do. If you want to.”

“I do…move over.”

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