#FUCK MY ENGINEERING DEGREE I JUST WANT CATS

[mamawasatesttube]

So i was just rotating your "Jack drake lives au" in my mind and at the same time remembered those panels of superman shaking hands with Some Fucking Guy (i think he was being a bitch to Lois or smth) and he makes direct unflinching eye contact with the tight lipped smile and his grip is a little too tight to be friendly

Anyways im not saying he hates Jack but i do think Kon off-handedly mentioned the "joke" about his nail polish and Clark went "oh really now?" And didnt forget

So rip Jack at that family dinner night bc not only is Lois waiting for an excuse to obliterate him but Clark is right there with her and if jack thinks that Good Ol Country folk Ma and Pa will back him up then hes in for a surprise lol

oh yeah absolutely!!!! the thing is. literally Nobody likes jack in this au ksjdhfkd like kon and dick absolutely have texted each other to bitch about him, ma openly shakes her head when she hears about how he treats tim (and she WILL speak her mind if he ever tries to shut that sweet boy down in front of her!), cass literally won't speak to him bc he failed the vibe check so bad, etc...

and like. no one is telling tim this. they Know it'll make him feel like he has to defend his dad bc he loves him! but sometimes tim mentions oh he can't join for games this friday night, he and his dad are going on an early morning fishing trip. and cass just meets kon's eyes across the room behind tim's back and rolls her eyes so hard.

but yeah. clark will mostly let lois handle the obliteration with ma's backup as needed bc he knows she's got this. his form of expressing his severe disapproval of jack, his views, and his parenting? supporting tim. thanking him for doing the dishes after dinner, praising his work ethic, ruffling his hair and telling him he did a great job with that case he wrapped up last week, etc. it makes tim go "!!! :D!!!" like that pic of the cat getting patted. tim has always craved approval and affirmation and affection from people around him and he gets it in spades from the kents. and jack sees his son light up and open up around these people way more than he does with him. it's not a good feeling.

it's just tough bc like, tim doesn't want anyone getting mad at jack. but the idea of anyone getting mad at jack on his behalf is also just such a shock to him. he's not used to that. he feels like he has to manage jack and be responsible for him in a lot of ways (if jack says something shitty in front of lois, tim cringes because now jack is gonna get his ass handed to him and feel humiliated, and that's his dad and he was trying to help, and also he feels like it's on him that his dad is being like that. why? oh you know.) (its the unnamed emotional abuse, thats why.)

but also clark and kon watch lois ask tim how his degree is going now that he's in engineering school, and lightly rib him and ask if she can't poach him into investigative journalism instead, because she doesn't usually take interns but she'd make an exception! and tim cocks his head like a dog and says well, maaaybe he'd be down to consider an internship if she's serious? it does sound cool. what are the details? and jack, who barely gets more than one-word answers when he talks to tim about his future, is just kinda seething. heart rate goin up bc hes mad. and kon and clark just exchange extremely amused glances across the kitchen and sip their hot chocolates.

like the tim and jack dynamic is complicated; it'd be a lot easier if the love wasn't so real but it is present. its just that jack is soooo emotionally immature and grounded in Classic American Manhood and ideas of fatherhood. and the fact that tim is growing beyond that and not fitting in the mold he's "supposed" to eats at him. its a tragedy but also we are all pointing and laughing at jack every time superfam make him grind his teeth.

[artbyblastweave]

Gideon The Ninth Liveread, Chapter 16

This initial sequence is the first time that Gideon has demonstrated real awareness of Harrow’s internality; she identifies frustration, self hatred, “fury at herself rising like Bile.” One goddamn chapter ago, Gideon was incapable of assessing why an anal-retentive perfectionist from a dying house attending a cutthroat state dinner for the first time in her life might be feeling anxious. I think that this is a result of whatever freaky mind-meld they’re doing.

As a side note; “Necromancy,” as the singular overriding magic system, encompasses some stuff that’s not typically lumped in under Necromancy, such as possession and implicitly some degree of biokinesis. I wonder if it’s a cladistic failure, the necromantic applications of magic being discovered first and then swelling to include stuff you generally wouldn’t cram in under that paradigm.

Okay, upon cracking the mind-meld, we enter bossfight mode. Necromantic constructs apparently adhere to crit zone logic. I wonder if it HAS to be that way, or if it’s specific to this construct (which context quickly reveals is in fact part of the game.)

We get two detailed descriptions of Gideon taking out crit spots, then another prose implementation of a montage. In an animated version (the only appropriate way to adapt this) you’d get three or four lovingly detailed hits to a triumphant crescendo, before it devolved into a Samurai-Jack style multi-cam POV of Gideon slashing at the camera.

Okay, the monster drops a box. The box- rather pointlessly- is an electronic affair with a slow count-up to opening rather than something purely mechanical. It’s a Lootbox. This setup was engineered by someone with a strong understanding of co-op games.

Okay, Gideon shouldn’t have been able to see the energy signature; I assume that a door goes two ways, and that she’s getting visual input from Harrow. (Pacific Rim AU. I swear to God, Muir has a fuckin’ checklist)

The visuals on this keep emphasizing that overuse of necromancy leads to hemorrhaging, blood sweat, burst capillaries. Is the logical endpoint a meatsplosion? Will I get to see a necromancer explode? That would be neat. Not for them. Or for anyone standing next to them. 

Our first unabashed, barely-qualified compliment from Harrow. A firsthand experience of what it’s like to Gideon in a fight for her life; of what being a cavalier MEANS. And once again both parties play it down, in tried-and-true enemies to lovers fashion. Focusing in on the specifics of the downplay- which feel a lot like Harrow trying to remind herself of everyone's station- reminds me of a lingering question I’ve had- namely, is EVERYONE in the empire subordinated within a house, or are the houses JUST the ruling class, with a Helot type of underclass? Anyway, my theory that Harrow could have avoided a lot of hassle by just making Gideon feel welcome and wanted swells in its power. Reinforced by the subsequent line-

“It betokened conspiracy, which was normal, except that this one invited Gideon to be part of it. Her eyes glowed with sheer collusion.” I really do want a full looney-toons type of story about the two of them constantly playing cat-and-mouse with each other for 17 years.

“She’d eaten a good meal. She’d won the game. The world seemed less maliciously unfriendly.” This is the last chapter in act 2. I am reading this on a computer blown up to 200 percent text size. I physically cannot see any words below the current paragraph. But I know that they are not good words.

Oh, hey! “Bronchial” passages. Like Lungs. I bet if I went back with a pen and started circling, I’d first off really fuck up my screen, but I think I’d also notice that there’s a very body-centric cast to the description of things due to the cultural implications of so much of everything being modeled off/made using human anatomy. Neat worldbuilding detail.

Magnus and Abigail died

[elekinetic]

What are your hcs about the Stranger Things characters’ futures? Like concerning their careers, where they wind up living, pets, colleges, or anything else that you want to talk about!

ohhhh i’m torn. i want them to all end up in the same place. i don’t think this is the canon answer but this is what makes me happy:

the party ends up in california for college. they all go to uc santa cruz, cause they didn’t get a chance to do the whole college application thing while saving the world and owens pulled some strings. el and max are roommates. dustin mike and lucas get put in a triple, but if mike starts staying at a certain party member’s single most of the time…..that’s none of their business. max starts as a neuroscience major until she fucking hates it. she’s at the arcade one night and watches someone repair a broken machine and is like, oh shit. that’s kinda cool. she switches to computer science, then to computer engineering bc CS is for nerds. (dustin does CS.) lucas came in as a political science major, but he realized he was way more interested in helping max with her neuroscience homework. he ends up doing a double major in political science and human health sciences. mike majors in communication cause it’s a compromise between getting a business degree like his parents insist and studying something he’s actually interested in (this is the problem. mike has no clue what he wants to study). will is a visual arts major obv. el switches her major about seventeen different times (zoology, religion, international relations, mechanical engineering). she ends up graduating w mike in communication bc its the easiest to apply her various credits to. el and dustin get really into improv. el also does theatre, and mike ends up getting dragged into the tech scene. lucas plays club basketball and gets involved in student govt. he sets up a lot of food and blood drives. the party goes to a board game club, but will goes EVERY week and makes a bunch of great friends. max learns guitar and starts playing at open mics (el is the only one who knows. and lucas, a little later). they all join the college radio station. first its dustin helping a mutual friend fix radio tech, then its will filling in for a mutual friend’s missing cohost, then it’s will and lucas starting an advice show, and el and max starting a show where max makes the tapes and el just talks about whatever she wants, and mike fucking around in the background of all his friends’ shows and shouting out unsolicited comments. when they all move off campus, mike and will, dustin and lucas, and el and max get their own apartments respectively. lumax starts talking abt moving in together and el is like “i love you both but i am not trying to third wheel in my own home.” thus, henderhop house is born. these two were BORN to be roommates. they become such good friends and are so respectful of each others space and are so so communicative! and they both love to cook. henderhop lives together for like, six years post college. listen, they have two cats together. they don’t want to traumatize them with a divorce. mike and will get a dog when they’re older (late 20s, early 30s). they used to catsit for their neighbor, but mike is crazy allergic. it always sounds like he’s going through puberty again. the party ends up in southern california. el becomes an archaeologist and travels a lot. dustin lives in pasadena and works for JPL. max does some work with him, does some contacts for a few different companies. she eventually becomes a professor and spends her off time doing research. lucas becomes a pediatrician. later in life he serves on city council, then turns to non-profit work. will get a job as an illustration intern at a comic house straight out of college and works his way up from there. mike bounces around office jobs, does some time at a publishing house, and goes back to school for a creative writing MFA. he sells some original stuff but he ends up mostly writing comics for IPs with will. they make a name for themselves in the Star Wars EA and actually get invited to a couple comic-con panels. dustin flips his shit.

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight - We’re The Type To Be Pit Ballin’

For: @purpleruletheomiverse 

Vlad loves balls. Danny loves balls. But most importantly, Maddie the cat loves balls.

Danny was always suspicious of Vlad, especially when Vlad gets a bunch of small boxes and one very large box. He didn’t pick up on any energy spikes in any of the guy's homes, so whatever it was it wasn’t electronic and didn’t use ectoplasm. Could it just be a new couch or bed? Sure. Danny wasn’t betting his half-life on that though.

Now if it was possible Danny would just waltz into the man’s house invisibly and check for anything; unfortunately, Vlad knew about his half-ghost ass and was also into anti-ghost tech. Meaning the house was protected from Danny abusing his powers like that, plus Vlad was a halfa himself and would thus sense Danny’s presence if he was in ghost form or using a decent amount of energy. So now here he is knocking on the door like a normal person (how boring) and being greeted by a slightly confused Vlad.

“Daniel?”, sticking his head out and looking around, “you’re here by yourself, so I doubt Jack made you come”, then frowning a little, “I will be very unhappy if you’re about to tell me there’s a major ghost issue”.

Danny shoves his way in, Vlad letting him with a quirked eyebrow as Danny looks around, “so what massive boxed thing did you buy”.

“You watching my mail like that could qualify as stalking behaviour, you know”.

“You put spy cameras in my house, you are not winning that argument”. Danny pausing in spot a few rooms over and just kind of staring, there’s a fucking ball pit and it’s actually filled with ball pit balls, not something weird or evilish. “Why… why do you have a ball pit”. It’s basically wall to wall, no wonder the box was goddamn huge.

Vlad walks in, crossing his arms, “Maddie was getting bored with most of her toys, so I thought I’d spice things up and splurge a little”.

Danny makes a few faces, “a ‘little’? You turned an entire room into a shallow ball pit for your cat. You have been too rich for too long”, wagging a finger in Vlad’s face, “you need to be homeless for a while, by the Ancients”. Looking back to the ball pit because come on! How much would something like this even cost? Even all the multi-coloured balls alone would be more than most peoples pay cheques. He means, sure he’s glad the guys actually pampering his cat like any halfway decent pet owner should but this might be overboard. “Your cat is spoiled”.

Vlad rolls his eyes, looking up to the ceiling, “I was also thinking of making steps for the walls and pathways up by the ceiling, little more space to run around and climb, you know”.

Danny looks up too, “Vlad… how fucking tall are your ceilings? What if she falls?”. Even if a cat fell into a shallow ball pit that would probably hurt.

Vlad pales a little, oh right, “you may have a point there”. This was a mansion after all. “Maybe just tunnels through the walls then”.

“Do you know what walls are load bearing? Do you want an upper floor to collapse down?”.

Vlad blinks, “since when did you know so much about architecture?”.

“It was one of the choices for side credits for that bachelor's degree I kinda wanna get”.

Vlad blinks and grins, “Oh, in biological science and engineering right? So you can get that master's to try getting into the Astronaut Candidate Program?”. At least his nephew-should-be-son-though was actually intelligent.

Danny grins right back, “yup, I’ve already got all my logged pilot-in-command hours”.

“I’d say congrats but I’m not sure Maddie and Jack’s jet counts”.

Danny points aggressively at him, “fuck that noise, I will make that count one way or another. Also, I have actually flown a real spaceship before even if I can’t actually prove that and it was trying to eat me beforehand”. And then Maddie the cat jumps up out of the ball pit and dives back in, popping her head up and meowing loudly at the two. Danny blinks, “was she sleeping in there?”.

Vlad looks incredibly smug, because he is smug, “indeed. I think it’s a winner”; then eyeing Danny watching the ball pit with a small little smile on his face.

Maddie the cat starts swimming around in the balls, the plunking and plinking the balls all make was rather adorable in Danny’s opinion, and what kind of loser doesn’t like a good ball pit. Ah, fuck it. “Fuck it”, Danny dives in; making Vlad jerk a little and reach out for him belatedly. Unfortunately, Danny sticks his head out of the pit with a, “I think I broke my neck actually”.

Vlad drops his hand and shakes his head, “for Gouda's sake, Daniel. Why didn’t you just step in?”.

“Oh where’s the fun in that?”. Eh, Danny thinks his neck’s healed enough, flipping over and starting to crawl around in the balls; occasionally flinging some in the air, which Maddie the cat frequently jumps out to catch or bat at.

Vlad sits down on the ball pit ledge, folding his hands together in his lap. He absolutely liked these sorts of little moments, where it felt like he could genuinely be family to Daniel. Watching Daniel bite a ball into his mouth and ‘popping’ it out. Maybe when the boy’s older and more mature…

Danny was very much in favour of this, it wasn’t evil, it didn’t involve his mom, and it was very fun. Ball pits were awesome… so long as no one pissed in it anyways. Vlad just rolls his eyes and leans out of the way when Danny throws a ball at him, but Maddie the cat absolutely losses her shit chasing after it like a bat outta hell and skidding around on the floor as she scammers her legs a bit faster than gravity is letting her actual move. The cat is smacking the runaway ball all over the floor and Danny can’t help laughing at that, Vlad watching his cat go fondly.

The cat comes back after a bit, panting, and lays on Vlad’s lap, him eyeing Danny as he pets her, “are you going to get out of there”.

Only half of Danny’s face is out as he hisses, “never”, and slowly sinks beneath the balls; time to slip away sneakily. Maybe Vlad will think he drowned in balls and panic. Heh.

Vlad eyes the balls and when Daniel doesn’t come back up and none of the balls move, “Daniel? Really?”.

A couple of seconds later the balls start moving again and Danny’s head slowly pokes up, looking petulant, “you added ghost shields underground?”.

Vlad smirks, “absolutely”.

Danny grumbles, actually standing up and walking out of the room making ‘I’m watching you’ gestures. Danny keeps glaring behind himself the entire way out of the mansion. Fuck… that was totally a family bonding moment, wasn’t it? Damn him. All his get a cat mocking was both working and backfiring. Ah well, it’s definitely still good he says; based on the sound of ball pit balls moving around it definitely was. There is nothing in this world that could convince Danny the Vlad didn’t just go into the ball pit. Nothing.

End

Prompt: Vlad goes to absurd lengths to spoil his cat.

[rfaromance]

Have you ever thought about Saeyoung being an engineer? That is something I LOVE thinking about him doing specially since he has a love for building and modifying things!

I love how in V's AE Saeyoung completes his education in the engineering field and even gifts little Lucy a tablet, that he made himself. I'm sure it must've been completely personalized for her to optimize her experience and protect her from any kind of virus or other threats that arise being on the internet.

Saeyoung being able to follow his passion for creating things gives me so much joy. I think he would be so delighted to be able to help people with his creations and also indulge in all kinds of wacky gadgets he wants to make, while having all the resources for it. And also because Saeyoung wearing a suit with his sleeves rolled up, explaining in detail, his original idea for a device to his team with unfiltered passion/excitement in his eyes is FUCKING SEXY

Sorry for my language and my incoherent screeching. I just love love love Saeyoung with all my heart and soul and think about this a lot. Seeing this brilliant man happy and reach his full potential is all I want. And I thought you would agree with me

YOU'RE RIGHT AND YOU SHOULD SAY IT!

Saeyoung mentions a toy shop several times, or other characters make reference to it (such as in his dream in the SE). He'd love to make wacky gadgets and gizmos that can be toys for kids... but with special features!

Likewise, if he were to officially obtain an engineering degree, I know he'd have a blast. He'd have the time of his life figuring out the limits of his capabilities, and he knows Jumin is going to fund his R&D if he brings those skills to C&R. All he needs is the fancy sheet of paper saying "I engineer goodly" and that's his foot in the door, his carte blanche to tinker with whatever his heart desires.

Optimized tablet for Lucy is a cinch for him. He probably wants to design her a phone when she's older, too. Heck, he might be making a new phone for V so he can always keep track of him and ensure he can't use "I'm losing signal" as an excuse again. /lh

But aside from more modern tech like smartphones and tablets and apps, he's going to make so many whimsical creations. Robodog and Meowy were just the beginning. Get ready for a line of cat toasters, cat chemistry sets, cat helicopter, cats that have a built-in laser to taunt flesh & blood cats... if he puts Elizabeth's name on it, Jumin is going to support it.

Ultimately I think Saeyoung is happiest not just when he's making things, but specifically when he's making things for others. He's spent too long in the shadows doing dirty work; he wants to put those sin-stained hands of his to use in a way that brings people smiles.

[fizzigigsimmer]

The Space School AU

I am screeching over the Starfleet Academy news. This series has been in rumors since I was in university, I swear. Yesterday it was finally ordered for Discovery+. I am an utter nerd so pardon me while I celebrate by shaking my fandoms together like a champagne bottle and seeing what comes out.

Billy always wanted to go to the stars. After his parents divorced and his mom moved off planet she would send him holocards and vids from distant planets where she helped stabilize and revitalize federation planets effected by war and natural disasters. Whenever he needed to get away from Neil, Billy would drive up from San Diego just to park outside the Starfleet campus and pretend for a little bit that he was one of those cadets, on his way to discover the universe and the best that life had to offer. But eventually he always has to turn back around and head home to the cramped apartment he shares with his dad and his new wife. Billy has been preparing his whole life for the star fleet entrance exam with an eye on several science and engineering degrees, and the year he turns sixteen he takes the exam and passes on the first try.

He’s on the young side for a cadet, and he expects to be placed in a room with another protege type but he gets Steve instead, the infamous son of two celebrated Starfleet officers who is returning from a year of probation and spends all his time mooning over his ex-girlfriend and rescuing stray creatures. It’s obvious to Billy that Steve is only here because his father is an admiral, and worse - Steve knows it too. He knows he can fall asleep in class and forget his portion of the group assignment because the commanders will bend over backwards to make special accommodations for him. Everyone else knows that they have to receive at least an ‘ME’ (Meets Expectations) in all of their classes the first year or risk probation, and once you’re on probation the academy disciplinary council can decide to send you home whenever they feel like it. If Steve were anyone else, Billy knows he would have been expelled ages ago.

Billy’s double majoring as well as completing premedical studies and he somehow manages to get a BE in his command elective Diplomacy: Hostile Species. It’s so stupid because that class is basically a joke and the instructor has no sense of humor. Billy wouldn’t actually tell a hostile alien to eat his ass.

His track advisor offers to speak to the instructor for him about raising his term score with additional credits - the catch, his advisor is Dr. Harrington, Steve’s mother. And the assignment she has in mind is tutoring Steve. Billy has to make sure that Harrington receives an ME in all of his classes this term or risk academic probation - shameless blackmail! But Dr. Harrington seems to believe he can do it, and it’s not like Billy can complain to anyone. So Billy spends spring term up Steve’s ass, figuratively as he tries to cure his depression and glues him to chairs until he finishes his assignments. And then also, quite literally as they get closer and he figures out that Steve is just fucking lonely, and can be easily motivated with praise and touch.

 It’s like having a big bitchy cat who keeps coming home knocked up (their dormitory is filling up with one eyed cats and three legged dogs, and whatever that grey thing is with the fucking teeth) but it works. They work. They bitch, and they scrap, but they also laugh more and they’re able to say the real shit they can’t tell anyone else. They grow. They find their rhythm and they find themselves, realizing their value is not in what they achieve. Steve passes the term and shocks his father by switching from the command school to the Division of Arts & Sciences to study Sociology &  Zoology. He eventually learns from his new classmate Dustin that his sometimes cat eating pet alien (Doug) is called a demodog and hails from a hostile planet in a distant star system. No one knows how he ended up on earth but Steve dreams about one day helping return him to his family.

Billy gets his extra credit and eventually graduates with a boyfriend, a bunch of new pets, and for the first time, he doesn’t have to look up at the stars to find a reason to live. All he has to do is turn over in bed and all the stars are right there in Steve’s eyes.

Post school, Billy has years of field residency ahead of him and so does Steve and the chances that they’ll be placed on the same planet let alone in the same area is slim, but exceptions are made for married individuals or whatever the cultural equivalent of their species. They’re both committed to making the distance work and Billy could always call in a favor with Dr. Harrington (she loves him and would pull strings to get him stationed wherever he asked) but his thoughts keep straying back to the idea of marriage. He knows 20 is young to partner, but he can’t think of a more perfect life than exploring the final frontier with Steve by his side.

[wyndhamvossler]

I love (not) writing things

an AI wrote my official lore

WyndhamVossler is a Detective VTuber and Part-time Cat.

At least that was how I started. It's not like I had any other choice, really. My parents were both dead, my sister was in jail for murder, and the only thing I could think of to do with myself was become a detective.

I'd been watching videos on YouTube for years before I decided to start making them. The idea of being able to make your own show seemed so cool! And it wasn't just me who thought so; there were thousands of people out there doing it. Some of them made millions of dollars every year.

But I didn't have any money, and I couldn't afford to buy equipment or pay anyone else to help me. So I did what everyone does when they want to be a YouTuber: I went to school.

After high school, I took an associate degree in computer science from a local community college. Then I moved onto the University of California at Berkeley, where I got my bachelor's degree in computer engineering. That was almost four years ago now.

While I was studying, I made videos on my off time, mostly about video games. Those videos never gained much traction, but I didn't care. They gave me something to do while I was working toward my degree. It also helped me meet some friends who became very important to me.

VTT is the name of this friend group it consisted of Astrid, Merlin, Yume, Yereza and Hilda. We hung out all the time, and when we weren't hanging out together, we would all talk about our lives over text messages.

Eventually, one of them asked if I wanted to join a new channel that he was starting. He said that he needed someone to run social media and create graphics for his videos. I told him I'd give it a shot, and that's how I ended up doing what I'm doing today.

The first few months were rough. I had no experience in making videos, and it was hard trying to figure out how everything worked. But as I got used to it, I started enjoying myself more and more. Now I love what I do.

Most days, I work on my videos from 9 am until 6 pm. After that, I relax by taking care of my dog, Hugo. Sometimes I'll go back to sleep or play video games for a bit, then get ready for bed.

On weekends, I usually hang out with VTT. On Friday nights, we watch horror movies, which is basically the highlight of my life. Saturdays are devoted to gaming, we all play Dungeons and Dragons together. Sundays we usually spend playing board games.

Hilda and Yereza live on the east coast, and Astrid lives in the Bay Area, so we don't see each other often. When we do get together though, it's always fun. Even if I don't get to talk to them much, I still think about them all the time.

And of course, there's Hugo. He's a shih-tzu puppy, and he's adorably ugly. I can't imagine being without him. He's my best friend.

Not to mention my sister, Elaine. She lives in San Diego. And she's… complicated. One day, I hope to forgive her for the things she did. For now though, I just avoid talking about her.

My family was pretty fucked up, but I know things could've been worse. I mean, I only had to move across the country to get away from them. At least I'm safe here.

I'm making a video right now about my birthday. it's very nice and super high quality. You should watch it.

Well, that's about it for the backstory. I hope you liked it. If you did, please subscribe to me.

[mysteriouslybluepirate]

Doom post

At the end of this is a picture of my cat, so if you wanna just skip to that, feel free. She's great, healthy, etc.

Don't read if you're already anxious, in a bad place in life, are directionless etc.. I'm ranting about life stuff, so you know yourself best. If you want to read and are feeling shitty, just wait.

It's winter here in the US. If you are reading this past 4 in the afternoon, you're probably not happy.

So there's this new AI coming up, it allows people to put in a prompt, and essentially ask an ai to write it. This works from anything from school essays, to basic medical diagnoses(enough to tell a person to go to the hospital), to correcting computer code. For the next few years this will be an uphill battle.

I'm just going to ask this now, as a person who is mentally ill and it's hard to hold down a serious job. I can't work or live at a deficit.

What the fuck am I supposed to do with my life?

(For context I'm officially diagnosed with: ADHD, Bipolar Disorder 1 with psychotic features, Depression, and Generalized Anxiety disorder)

After 3 degree changes I wanted to go into English teaching, but that whole landscape will change. Why would a 12-year-old write an essay when they can use this program. In the US, our long-form essay-based classes need to change. Plus, I'm a lesbian with a wonkey gender presentation on a given day that lives in a red state. I'm already not safe, I'm not going to be poorer than now and in dept as a teacher. So that's a no.

I'm in a 10k-people dying retirement town 6 hours away from a 100k-people city. I've already worked most jobs locally and was either let go of or quit due to my being part-time due to college. Got gently let go of from Walmart cause they were getting rid of part-time night stockers. All these jobs were manual labor, no office jobs, no 'lazy' jobs that respect my free time. They don't exist here.

I've tried nursing school, computer science, and engineering as degrees. Around 40-50 credits for nothing. Nothing kept me hooked, I had to be uber-medicated for my ADHD to stay going. I was able to get through high school cause I hated myself and punished myself whenever I was underperforming. I'm to tired to do that right now.

As for jobs-

Retail killed me, I worked WalMart for a year, and another local family owned business for four months before giving up. Unless forced to, I won't be returning.

I've tried Railroad (very male-dominated work environments); it's a trade. I wanted to die, mostly 40-year-old men looking at a 5'9 twig and deciding that's enough of a joke to grab onto for a bit. Not to mention all the touching. That's all there is here, besides specializing in another trade, where I could just get treated as badly. Nursing (where I'll be harassed with a smile on my face like my mother) or fitting in with a red town.

My therapist tells me to 'just go into computer science'. She's one of those people that are convinced that anyone can get a degree and find a good job. She ignores me when I tell her how my ADHD makes it hard to focus on tasks. I just need to 'power through it' and It'll work out in the end.

Oh! And Comp Sci is expected to have an influx of people over the next 5 years at entry-level positions due to the pandemic. No one in my family actually believes me when I tell them this, but I'd be fucked after I graduate. It will be impossible to find work with just a degree. I can't afford to leave for an internship that could cinch me a job.

I can't leave. I can't afford to leave. I'm 20, 21 next month, with no friends whatsoever as I hop around in life. All my coworkers are bigots, rude, or high schoolers, leaving me feeling more alone. I'm stuck in a $ 13-an-hour dead-end part-time job, and don't see an out.

If I left town for college, the only affordable housing is my family in the state I live in. So if I specialize I'll just be at ground zero if I'm forced to flee back to home.

I'm not the fun type of mentally ill that's gotten obsessed with something capitalism can call helpful. I obsess over a pirate show for 6 months, and spend most of my days tired and zoned out. I've tried to be hopeful and find a career that suits me. In every single degree I've looked into that isn't too heavily math-based (adhd) or social-based (probably autism, but no one here is qualified for AFAB people) is going downhill. I don't want to be here for this shit anymore.

Obviously, I've got stuff to keep me alive as concerning as this post sounds. I needed to rant, I'm probably in an episode, and if I was that badly off, I wouldn't be posting online. At the very least I have OFMD s2/s3 to look forward to, and household are kind enough not to point out how much of a dead weight I am.

I've got shitty meds that don't work, and a therapist who didn't know gay people could get married...so there's that.

I can't figure out how to verify this account. I've tried, but I can't see private messages. Reblog/comment if you want to talk. But IDK.

Cat photo reward for making it this far. Her name is Polly. She says hi.

[shadowpeoplebluntsmoke]

I miss going to bars before covid, I did drink under age but I turned 21 during the first year. It was hard because I had done shrooms 2 years before that. I feel like being alone alot during lock down hurt my piss poor concept of time, and completely shocked it's not 2020 and I'm infact 25 and not in my early 20s, and that dumbasses not following covid rules and unaliving all essential workers or disabled and high risk people dragging this out is why I didn't have a care free 20s experience. I do want to start partying again and get back my lost 20s, be do crymez, work my ass off and make a bunch of money if disability proceedings drag on, intern somewhere, and get a fuck ton of degrees. I originally wanted to do just musical production, audio engineering, and composition, but I think I also want to expand into business, marketing, and graphic design, and use my left over Pell Funds to pay for classes at various different schools, so I can get more degrees for less money, even going to schools that give accredited degrees for free. I am also planing on taking typing classes at the local library to easily land a data entry job, so I'm not going back to shitty food service and retail jobs. I'm even willing to work side jobs in construction. I'd rather be somewhat blue collar and white collar, so I can finance my dreams. Honestly before that I need services for disabled people, I do want to honestly help people but I have no money, and the debt collectors are harassing my family (mom and i). It was medical debt from procedures I got, but the debt is in my mom's name. People always assume I've got money, but honestly my family and I are one bad check away from being homeless, and me having to crash on someone's house who's cat friendly and didn't have cats, so I can stay with my cat, if it's one of those rare times where my mom goes to jail. This sucks.

[leopoldainter]

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[alsjeblieft-zeg]

088 of 2023

Just The Basics 1. How old are you?

32, soon to be 33.

2. Are you male, female, or ....?

Male.

3. What's your sexual orientation?

Gay, but asexual.

4. Where do you live?

Belgium.

5. Who do you live with?

My husband and two cats.

Family and Friends 6. Are you currently in a relationship?

I’m married.

7. Do you have any children or want any in the future?

No and no. I’m kinda stepdad to my husband’s son, and it’s enough to me.

8. How's your social life?

Pretty good. I have quite many friends.

9. How's your relationship with your immediate family?

Better than before. But I’ve always been close with my sister. And to my dad,

10. How has your eating disorder affected your social life/other relationships?

Not much, honestly. Things got better over time, but it’s not even related.

Interests and Hobbies 11. What are your hobbies?

Shortwave radio and other weird radio signals, photography, travelling.

12. What's your favorite TV show? Favorite movie?

I don’t really have favourites, and I find movies boring.

13. Do you like reading? If so, what's your favorite book?

I love reading, but I have too many favourite books to mention them all.

14. What's your favorite number?

16.

15. What's your favorite color?

Black and green.

16. What's your favorite animal?

Cat, hands down.

17. Do you have any pets?

Yeah, two cats.

18. How has your eating disorder affected the aforementioned areas of your life?

I don’t think it has affected them in any way.

Right Now 19. What's your mood right now?

Content and cheerful.

20. What's the last thing you did?

Went to Sint-Niklaas by train, took some photos, went to Ghent for shopping, came back by train.

21. What's the last thing you touched?

My laptop’s keyboard.

22. Who's the last person you talked to?

My husband. He picked me up by car.

23. What's the last thing you said?

“Food is ready”.

24. What's the last thing you ate?

Waterzooi.

25. What was the last thought that crossed your mind?

Probably M.

26. Turn to page 32 of the book nearest to you (if there is one within convenient distance) and type the first full sentence.

No, thanks.

27. If you're watching TV/something on your computer, what?

Hell’s Kitchen.

28. Is there anyone else in the room with you? Who?

Yeah, my husband and one of our cats.

29. Do you want them to go the fuck away?

Why would I?

30. What's in your purse right now?

I’m a dude. I use backpacks.

31. What are you going to do later today?

Chill out.

Life 32. What does an average day look like for you?

Taking the train and going anywhere. Tuesdays and Thursdays, working half days.

33. How has your eating disorder affected your average day as compared to before you developed it?

I don’t think it did in any way. It’s rather the source of my disorder that caused trauma and anxiety.

34. Are you in school or working? If so, what's your major/in what field do you work?

I do both. I have a degree in electrical engineering, and I’m doing yet another in Dutch language, but my uni is on hiatus now, due to my health issues. I work as an electrician in a big, French rail transport company. I produce electrical components and then install them in train carriages.

35. What's your dream job/what do you want to be when you grow up?

I love my job and I can’t imagine doing anything else.

36. Has your eating disorder affected school/work?

No, it hasn’t.

37. Eating disorder aside, what would your ideal life look like? Where would you like to live? Career? Family?

Except for health problems, I wouldn’t change anything about my life.

Diagnosis 38. Which eating disorder do you struggle with?

EDNOS.

39. Are you officially diagnosed with an ed or any other mental illnesses? If so, when were you diagnosed?

Generalised anxiety disorder and OCD. And with an ED, too.

40. Do you agree with your diagnoses?

Yeah, it’s pretty obvious I have anxiety.

41. Are you currently receiving treatment for your ed and/or related mental illness(es)? In the past?

Never for my ED, but I was taking antidepressants years before and this year I came back to them.

42. Are you on any medications?

Yeah, two different meds for epilepsy, fluoxetine for anxiety and blood pills.

43. Do your friends/family know that you have an eating disorder?

They might know, but not fully acknowledge it.

Getting Deep 44. Why do you think you have an eating disorder?

I know why. It’s trauma from sexual abuse.

45. If you're receiving treatment, what does your therapist/psychiatrist etc. say the reason behind your eating disorder is?

I’m not receiving treatment for this.

46. Do you like your eating disorder?

Honestly, I hate it.

47. If you like some aspect(s) of your eating disorder, which one(s)?

Getting invisible and bones sticking out.

48. What's the most inconvenient thing about having an eating disorder?

Everything else.

49. If you could switch the eating disorder you're currently struggling with, would you?

I would get rid of it.

Recovery 50. Are you in recovery? If not, do you want to recover?

No, but I want to recover.

51. If you're not currently in recovery or contemplating recovery, do you think you will in the future? If so, when?

In the future. Might talk about it with my psychiatrist.

52. If you're not in recovery, what's stopping you?

I keep my disorder on autopilot.

53. If you could wake up tomorrow and be cured, would you want it to happen?

Yeah, pretty much so.

Food 54. Do you actually like food?

Neither like nor dislike.

55. Do you like food more than sex?

I like everything more than sex. I have sex-related trauma.

56. What's your favorite non-eating disorder food?

Spaghetti.

57. What's your favorite eating disordered food?

Oatmeal. But I don’t categorise food like that.

58. If you could only eat five foods for the rest of your life, which ones would you choose?

Oatmeal, waterzooi, rice with veggies, yogurts and soups.

59. Do you like cooking/baking?

Cooking yes, baking not really.

60. Do you like going out to eat at restaurants? If so, do you have a favorite?

I do, but I do it rarely.

61. Have you ever worked in a food-type setting (grocery store, restaurant etc.)?

No, I haven’t.

Girls (or Boys) Gone Wild 62. Do you smoke cigarettes?

No, never even tried.

63. Do you drink caffeine? If so, what's your beverage of choice?

I do, but limited. I usually have caramel/vanilla latte.

64. Do you drink alcoholic beverages? If so, what's your poison?

Not anymore. I’m not allowed with my medication.

65. Do you use drugs of any kind? If so, which one(s)?

No, not interested.

66. Have you ever been arrested? If so, why?

No.

67. Have you ever been to jail?

No.

68. Do you have any tattoos?

Yes, two on my forearms.

69. Do you have any piercings?

Eight in total: 3x left ear, 2x right ear, 2x lower lip and left eyebrow.

70. Has your eating disorder affected any of these aforementioned areas of your life, decisions to partake in substances, or decisions to alter your physical body?

No. I always liked tattoos and piercings.

[wincore]

deck the halls (with spiderwebs) | ldh

pairing: spiderman!haechan x fem!reader

synopsis: donghyuck’s short term goal is to finish his bachelor’s degree even if it’s with a 20% attendance, and his long term goal is to be the smoothest, coolest spiderman ever. the latter, however, doesn’t really work out when he’s crashed into a wall thrice in public because of you.

genre: spiderman!au, bff2l, action (??), comedy, fluff

warning(s): injuries (so many), sexual innuendos, language, j*ke gyl*enh*al slander

words: 10.2k 

song rec: sunflower by post malone, swae lee

notes: ok so. pls read this like a movie in your head bc i was thinking of movies instead of actual literature writing this. also thank you miss cat, pun queen and professional title maker, for donating this title to me bc i could never come up with something so good 😩

There’s a two hundred-foot-tall stone gargoyle in front of Donghyuck’s university. Donghyuck has no idea why there’s a two-hundred-foot-tall stone gargoyle in front of his university. 

It stands proud, eyes trained on the horizon, looking way too lively for marble. In fact, the most disturbing part is probably that the thing is alive. Its face is a little less scary than the actual gargoyle statues at monuments, owing to the rather kind, round shape of its eyes. A stone mustache follows under its nostrils, falling into place (it’s a sculpture) in a way that makes it seem refined. God, why is Donghyuck evaluating a behemoth stone figure obstructing pedestrian traffic? He should get up there and convince it to leave.

“What the fuck is that?” Renjun says from beside him.

“A two-hundred-foot-tall stone gargoyle,” answers Mark Lee, ever so helpful.

“Well, why is it here?” Renjun hisses.

“Uh.” Like Donghyuck mentioned, Mark Lee is ever so helpful with his answers.

You know who’s actually helpful? That’s right—Professor Kim for not kicking Donghyuck out of his classes for the last few weeks. Granted he was only an average of five minutes late and less truck-accident-core than before. The second most helpful person in Donghyuck’s life is obviously Spiderman. If it wasn’t obvious, that’s because he forgot to mention he’s Spiderman.

“When will we get a peaceful walk home?” Jaemin rolls his eyes. “It’s some bullshit every week.”

“It’s not like you have to do anything,” Jeno counters. “Spiderman comes and gets rid of them.”

That’s his cue, and leaving might arouse suspicion but not in this case. Donghyuck knows these guys. They wouldn’t care about finding Spiderman’s identity unless they were rewarded with pizza coupons or chocolate chip cookies. 

“I’m gonna go ahead…” Donghyuck flashes them a pair of finger guns.

“Oh no,” Renjun huffs in annoyance. “You are an asshole but you have to stop leaving us during times of crisis.”

“Ugh. I don’t care about the gargoyle, I care about not getting kicked out of ochem. Spiderman will handle it anyway, right?”

That’s partially true. He does not want to get kicked out of class again but he also doesn’t want an animated gargoyle the size of a Boeing to destroy his campus. He’s going to make this quick. Evading this bunch of idiots isn’t that hard, honestly. 

Just as Donghyuck is about to fasten his pace, he bumps into another unwanted face in front of the engineering hall. 

“Oh, hey, (name).” His voice cracks immediately. 

Donghyuck clears his throat. He’s not trying to impress his best friend since third grade, certainly, but putting on a smoother, deeper, and sexier voice can’t hurt. He needs a rep boost as just Lee Donghyuck. “Hey, (name). Didn’t see you there.”

You cross your arms.

“You are way too relaxed for someone failing ochem,” you chide.

“I’m not failing ochem,” he defends quickly. “I know what aminoethanoic acid is.”

Why would he say that? He's far from smooth now.

“What does glycine have anything to do with that?” You raise an eyebrow. “Weirdo.”

“No… particular reason. God, I’m not arguing with my rich, hot, nerd best friend who tries to act better than everyone else. Resolve your daddy issues first.”

Donghyuck stomps his foot in impatience before attempting to bypass you and your stupidly gorgeous face. (He didn’t say that out loud and he never will.)

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” You grin. “You think I’m hot?”

“That’s why you stopped me?”

“Oh, uh. Right. I need help. You noticed the huge gargoyle outside campus?”

“Huge is an understatement. Either that or you’re really bad at using guesstimating words.”

“Shut up.” Your voice lowers, and Donghyuck hates to admit this, but the sudden spark of concern in your voice tugs at his heart in the most maddening way possible. 

There’s a long pause.

“Well?” 

You mumble out an answer, “That…uh… that may have been my fault.”

“Oh?” Donghyuck straightens. “Is that so?”

“Don’t get cocky.”

“I was born better than everyone else, can’t help it.”

He was better than everyone else till a spider bit him. Now he has to find cats and fight some ridiculous fish monster at 3 a.m (the fish monster was a one-time thing but they get increasingly unbelievable each time) and deal with dark circles as massive as a continent. He thinks he'd make a far better supervillain. Having to be all goody-two-shoes and friendly in public has given him a blow to his dignity. 

But whoever said being a superhero is not fun and games was also a big, fat liar. You get to do sick backflips and gain public praise, you get free churros from old Dominican ladies you happen to help cross the road, and most importantly, you can read all the horrible thirst tweets because everyone has a thing for Spiderman’s voice now. (Donghyuck would wash his brain with bleach to erase those memories.) No, but, really, he might be pretty popular as Lee Donghyuck, but there’s a certain freedom that crimson mask grants him—that he can do anything, and people will still love him. 

And yet, there’s only one person he looks to for love. 

“Look, you know how… aliens and wizards and cyborgs and stuff are totally normal, right? It’s not like I’m putting anyone in mortal danger. Right?” You try to gather your words.

“Uh-huh.”

“I… accidentally… sent a distress signal from one of the pile-of-rocks-looking aliens that visited dad for business last week.”

Donghyuck blinks. “And how… did you send this distress signal?”

“In my defense, it’s really not a thing someone with common sense would suspect.”

“Go on.” A smile is tugging at Donghyuck’s lips, watching you shift your weight from foot to foot. This better be embarrassing enough to tease you till next Halloween.

“I didn’t know singing the lyrics to ‘Last Christmas’ would activate the stupid ring I stole from the aliens, Jesus.”

You hug yourself, avoiding eye contact at all costs. Would you stop being cute? That face of yours has made him swing straight at a building more than once. They even wrote an article on that! It was titled “The baby spider has yet to grasp his powers—find out why!” and they didn’t even get the reason right; pinning it on some crappy conspiracy theory about how glass makes Spiderman weaker. (If only they knew a glance from you is what brings him to his knees.)

“The stupid thing started beeping like crazy and I had to run out of the shower half-naked—don’t picture that, pervert.”

“That’s a terrible accusation, also your terrible singing activated some terrible weird alien device and you never mentioned it to anyone?”

“It’s not terrible, and no! How was I supposed to explain the stealing part to my dad? He’s an intergalactic businessman!”

“It is terrible, it probably sounded like an alien creature wailing for help and hence—activating your little device.”

“Enough with that already! Help me out now.” You huff.

Donghyuck sighs, rolling his eyes at your determined face. Just how capable do you think he is? Sure, he’s your reliable, handsome, popular best friend but it’s not like you know he can shoot webs at stuff and swing around New York City whenever he wants. He’s not letting you shoulder the burden of a secret. (It’s also because you have a loud mouth.)

“And you think I can help because…?”

“You’re Spiderman!”

Donghyuck blinks. What?

“What did you say?”

“You’re Spiderman. What, did you think you could keep a secret from me?” 

Play dumb, he thinks.

“Who’s Spiderman?”

Not that dumb. 

You give him a look, specifically the look that spells ‘Hey, Lee Donghyuck, you’re an idiot and I can see into your soul’. Or maybe, that’s his inner voice talking. Regardless, he’s a little unsure how to respond. Why is it always you ruining his smooth operations?

He breathes out. “No, wait. You don’t understand.”

Donghyuck quickly pulls you into a corner, leaving barely any space between the two of you. He would be uncomfortable like this on any given day, all red in the face and palpitating heart. This is kind of an emergency and though Donghyuck’s job description is handling emergencies, he’s not sure how to react.

“You’re not supposed to say that out loud,” he hisses. “What if someone heard?”

“Oh. Uh… sorry. I didn't think that through.” You flash him an apologetic smile. “Are you actually weak to glass, by the way?”

“No, I’m not. Jesus, has everyone read that theory?”

“Most people in the fanclub.”

“Wait, what?” A surprised chuckle leaves Donghyuck. “Fanclub? You’re in my fanclub?”

“No… not exactly. I heard… from my friends… who are in the fanclub.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“And so are you, if your secret is so easy to figure out.”

“I’m only bad at lying to you.”

“Ugh, whatever,” you groan, throwing your head back. “Can’t argue with you. I only joined it to check up on what cool things you were doing every day. I mean, you fought one of the Aquanoids? So cool.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“You know, eight-foot-tall half-fish with the poison spikes.”

“It has a name? And there’s more of them?”

“Ugh, Hyuck, don’t be boring. You get to swing through skyscrapers and bust some cool moves and save people in times of crisis. I wish I had that kinda superpower. To be free.”

You mumble the last part. He’s come to hate that despondent look on you. But Donghyck knows how to cheer you up. He wasn’t voted class clown from grade six through ten for nothing.

“Wanna go swinging?” He asks.

“What?”

“Through the buildings. Your eyes lit up when you said that. Oh, look, they’re lighting up again. Did you emotionally manipulate me into making this offer?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes! You’re the best, Hyuck!”

Donghyuck smiles back at you, the tension growing larger inside his ribcage into a sticky spiderweb of emotions. Then he remembers the two-hundred-foot-tall stone gargoyle. 

“I should- I should deal with your marble mishap first,” he says.

“Is that what you’re calling it? Ooh, do you have secret mission names for each of them?”

He makes a face, an exasperated hand gesture following.

“Right, got it.” 

You walk with Donghyuck side by side, a slight skip to your step.

“So, do you have, like, a secret lair like Batman? Ooh, or a Spidermobile!”

“I don’t even have a driver’s license.”

You laugh, and Donghyuck is grateful for the sound. When the two of you reach the locker room, you still stand outside like a child in front of an ice cream truck. He had no idea you had a thing for superheroes. He might've told you this whole thing earlier.

“Give me some space, creep.” He grabs you by the shoulders to gently push you away, a disapproving look on his face.

“Well, you’re not changing in front of the locker room, are you?”

“No, but it’s so weird having you wait in front like that!”

“Fine, fine.”

You step back until you're pressed to the windowsill and he makes his way inside, quickly closing the door. He's gonna run you through his ‘Do not tell people I'm Spiderman’ manual later in the evening.

Donghyuck has decided to swing out the window of the locker room. It still feels surreal that you know, and he’s not sure if he wants to face you in spandex when you know it’s him. He’s getting a little self-conscious about his butt. 

He shakes his head. 

“Whatever. This’ll be quick.”

Donghyuck climbs out the window, crawling over the wall to the top of the building. He has a great view of the gargoyle from here, and in fact, this stone creature has the greatest set of abs Donghyuck has ever laid eyes on and possibly, will ever lay eyes on. He shoots a web over to the next building, swinging close enough to sling another web at the gargoyle’s shoulder. Thankfully, this did not activate a defense mechanism involving lasers and chainsaws like he anticipated.

Donghyuck lands gracefully, a move he prides himself on, and perches atop the gargoyle’s shoulder. 

“Great abs!” He yells, not sure why he did. “Wait, uh, that’s not the point.”

The creature is still looking over the horizon. He shoots a web at the forehead, hoping it’s not too rude, and lands on its nose. 

“Hello?” He waves his hand in front of its eye. “Anyone in there?”

He follows its vision trained on the horizon. It’s not exactly the horizon, he discovers, but a specific building within the campus. 

Donghyuck groans. He’s gonna have to get you, isn’t he? After a few seconds of contemplating his misery, he swings back over and pretends that was part of his plan. Luck must truly be on your side today.

Donghyuck can’t lie. Your pout gets the best of him. He would’ve rammed straight into the closed window like a fucking bird if he noticed it too late.

“You totally left me!” You huff.

“I did not.” Donghyuck places a hand over his heart. “Anyway, get on.”

“On what? You? Like a bike?”

“Jeez, stop making it sound dirty.”

“Hyuck!” 

He loves the embarrassment in your voice, a grin forcing its way onto his face. You can’t see it, but he gets the feeling you know anyway. How did he not see it coming? That you’d figure it out? Admittedly, it doesn’t feel as awful as he thought it would. A sense of relief washed over him instead. He’s not a terrible liar, but his stomach would always churn trying to keep things from you. Maybe it was because you were always so honest. If you found something interesting, the whole neighborhood would know and if you had a crush, the school would be getting you together with them already. It got on his nerves countless times, but eventually, he found that he loves it’s the way you are.

“You’re choking me, (name),” he says. Your legs are around his waist snug but your arms around his neck are a little too tight.

“Now, who’s being kinky?” You scoff.

“Really not the time, (name). We could fall to our deaths ten storeys below. Just you though. I have lightning-fast reflexes to keep myself alive.”

You groan, your grip on his neck loosening but now your legs tighten. This is going to take a few tries to get right and Donghyuck can only hope you don’t ask for free swing rides around NYC every day. 

Just as Donghyuck is about to swing to the gargoyle’s shoulder, it turns its head in a manner so sudden and unnerving, he almost misses—the web landing near his armpit instead. Donghyuck has never thought of death so soon—not because of the gargoyle but because of your iron grip. Seriously, you could be murdering supervillains left and right if you put this strength to use.

A low whine emits from his throat as he struggles to get up to the shoulder with you on but he does get there.

“Dude, it’s looking directly at us,” you say, getting off him as he falls to the stone beneath immediately, breathing heavily.

“I think God’s looking directly at me.”

“Hello? Hello!” You yell. 

A sudden whirring sound makes the whole unit shake, your hands naturally grabbing onto his arm. It makes him feel strong in a way a prepubescent boy with a first crush would feel so he pays no heed to the rising bloom of emotions in his chest. It’s cool, it’s cool. He’s Spiderman. He’s been bitten by a radioactive spider, and god, he has really sticky hands. He hopes you don’t try to hold them. 

“Greetings.”

An odd smile stretches across the stone structure—odd because it’s freaking cute. 

“Can you, uh, go back to space?” Donghyuck yells.

You smack his chest, eliciting an ‘oof’ from him. “Don’t be rude, Spiderboy.”

You turn back to it.

“What is your purpose here?” You yell.

Donghyuck snickers. “What’s with the fake Thor accent?”

“It’s called a British accent, idiot. And it’s so I sound cool and important.”

He rolls his eyes, although he can’t help the smile.

“I am here to collect an Earth innovation sample as per instructions.” The voice isn't as booming as Donghyuck thought it would be. It's quite friendly, in fact, and the voice emanates from a very specific part of the gargoyle's throat.

“Oh, great, what the hell is that?” Donghyuck asks.

“So you’re not here to destroy Earth and devour its remnants?” You pipe up, frowning. “That’s so boring, man.”

“Shush,” Donghyuck pushes your head down. “You’re not even helping keep earth safe.”

“I’m sorry, say that again? I donate to fighting pollution and global warming every month.”

“What’s an Earth innovation sample?” Donghyuck asks. “Is (name)’s stupid robotics project okay?”

“Hey! I worked for three months on that.”

“And all it does is beep and take photos of street cats.”

“You’re telling me that’s not peak innovation?”

“Maybe if it had a snack dispenser.”

The stone gargoyle seems to be observing your conversation and Donghyuck suddenly feels a little awkward under the hippo-sized eyes.

You clear your throat. “Uh, Mr. Gargoyle, sir? What exactly is an innovation sample?”

“Your latest radiofrequency devices, Miss.”

“Oh, so, like, phones!” You answer, bright-faced and stupidly proud of getting that right. Donghyuck presses his lips together before realizing you can’t see him smile so he might as well.

“Oh, so you won’t answer me but her, Stonehenge? Anyway, I have a great solution. Stay here.”

“It’s not like I’m gonna jump o—”

Donghyuck jumps off the shoulder, a sharp laugh following as he swings around the gargoyle’s arm and then from the knee to finally land in front of a familiar group. If that doesn’t impress someone, they have to be the most boring person in the universe (or multiverse, who knows?)

“Oh my God, it’s Spiderman!” Mark exclaims, lighting up. 

“Don’t make that face, Mark, you’re embarrassing us in front of Spiderman,” Chenle quips.

Donghyuck wonders how disappointed the older boy would be if he learned about Spiderman’s identity. Donghyuck has the urge to tell him just to scandalize him.

“Hey, guys,” Donghyuck greets, “Do you mind if I borrowed your phone? Permanently borrowed, that is.”

“Are you mugging us?” Jaemin asks.

“Well… the two hundred foot stone gargoyle is here to collect data and any phone or computer will do. I mean, I could swing by the labs and get one of those computers that’ve been there since the sixties but I’d feel bad scamming the big guy.”

Donghyuck knows he’s a piece of shit for scamming his friends instead, but he’s serving a higher purpose.

“Oh, well, if it’s really necessary,” Mark responds, shuffling through his bag. Oh, for the love of God, does he have to be the nicest person on earth? Maybe he should’ve been the superhero instead. Or at least his sidekick, because Donghyuck is getting really tired of handling things solo. (Huh, ‘Spiderman and Buggy’ sounds pretty great, he thinks.)

“No, not yours, Android boy,” Donghyuck says, shaking his head. “Give me that.”

He points towards Jaemin’s phone in his hand. Finally. Goodbye to Jaemin’s stupid alarm that wakes up everyone in the whole building but him. (This is a higher purpose, okay? He worships his sleep time.)

“Uh, okay.”

Donghyuck is so glad Jaemin is too tired in the morning to argue. He knows the guy would squabble to death over the smallest things, Spiderman or not. 

“Thanks, guys,” he says, the grin evident in his voice before swinging back.

“Wow. Spiderman.” Mark whispers before getting several elbows from the guys.

Back at the gargoyle’s shoulder, you seem to be engaged in conversation with the thing—Donghyuck isn’t really surprised. After the day he met you and talked your ear off, he learned what it meant to really talk someone’s ear off. And Donghyuck thought he was annoying.

“Here!” Donghyuck yells, waving the phone around.

“We got it!” You tell the gargoyle, smiling brightly.

You’re kind of cute, Donghyuck thinks. You’re a little too cute.

The whirring starts again, the stone structure shaking and Donghyuck is perfectly fine, owing to his sticky feet but that’s when he notices you falling off, a scream dying in your throat. 

He grabs onto your wrist just as you’re about to lose footing and fall backwards to your death.

“Pull me up!” You scream.

“Say please!”

“Fuck you!”

“Do it yourself,” he mutters, pulling you close.

“You- I- You’re- You’re so insufferable, Lee Donghyuck!” You breathe heavily, face steaming from chagrin.

He laughs, the sound resonating in the area and you look like you’re about to pounce on him and beat the shit out of him. The unbeatable Spiderman has only you to fear, after all.

You notice the little door at the neck of the creature, skipping over and peering in.

“Ooh, it’s really dark in here.”

“Just drop the phone, (name).”

“Ugh, fine. Wait, is this Jaemin’s phone?”

“No.”

This ends your whole stone gargoyle ordeal and while Donghyuck’s glad it’s over, he doesn’t enjoy your parting from holding onto him. It’s a weird feeling, like a spider’s woven a web all across his heart and decided to squeeze it into overdrive. Adrenaline doesn't feel this way. No freaky radioactive spider hormone feels this way. 

“See you in ochem,” you whisper, tiptoeing as he sits on the window ledge.

The action, however, catches him off guard and he stumbles backward, falling straight into garbage cans outside the building with a loud, embarrassing cacophony accompanying.

“Are you okay?” You yell, heavily concerned.

Donghyuck can only gesture a thumbs up while he tries to pull his soul back into his body. 

This is bad. This is very bad. Lee Donghyuck has caught feelings in his spiderweb.

Lee Donghyuck starts classes the next day with two bandaids on his face and a bandaged arm. You think the swelling on his cheek isn’t that bad—the puffiness is honestly making him look cute for once. 

This was before you accidentally flew your drone into his face.

“You’re lucky I didn't get stitches,” he grumbles, holding an ice pack to his forehead, where yet another bandaid has been added.

“I’m so sorry, Hyuck, I got so excited to see you I pressed the controller too hard. Do you want me to hold that for you?”

“Hold the weight of my broken heart. Also my bags and the ice pack, yeah, thanks.”

“Drama queen,” you tease.

“You know, you don’t have to walk me all the way back.”

You ignore his statement. Your curiosity is tugging at the corner of every thought you have, and you add a skip to your steps, smiling. 

“Hey, do you lay eggs?”

“What? No! I’m a dude.”

“Do you spit venom?”

“No.”

“Do you never let me hold your hand because your palms are sticky?”

“...No.”

You give him a look and he groans, before yelping at the pain.

“Sometimes they get sticky when I don’t want them to. It’s mostly under control. Besides, why would I wanna hold your sweaty hands?”

You roll your eyes.

“You have your key?” You ask as your apartment comes into view.

“In my bag. Wait, no. My pockets? Oh no. I left it on the roof!”

The energy seems to drain from his face as his eyes roll up in exasperation. He looks back at you with a pointed look. “I’m very responsible—this was all Mark’s fault.”

“What did he do?” You furrow your brows.

“I don’t know, it’s always his fault.”

You shake your head. “I have my key, let’s go. Where would you be without me, Lee Donghyuck?”

“Suffering fewer injuries.”

“Fine.” 

Somehow, you managed to get him to his room without furthering his injuries—despite how accident-prone you are. Hyuck would call it a miracle but his mouth probably needs a nurse checkup too. He says a nap cures everything and you’d call bullshit but he does miraculously heal after a nap. It all makes sense now. 

You have one evening class and you are so going to grill some answers out of Hyuck after that. Only because you think superheroes are cool. It’s just that Spiderman is the coolest. (You had the thought before you learned it was your lame best friend.) And you’re mixing up some of your feelings because surely, your pulse shouldn’t be rising when you think of him. You gulp.

You’re not in love with Spiderman. You’re not in love with Lee Donghyuck. You’re not in love with your best friend. In eighth grade, you had deemed it scientifically impossible to be attracted to him.

However, however, the loudest your heart has ever beaten in your life was caused by just holding onto him. You’re not afraid of heights—you’ve gone bungee jumping before—so even if you blame it on the adrenaline, the doubt will always eat at your mind.

You jog all the way to class, a bit too in your feelings to notice your surroundings. It’s a short walk anyway. 

“(name)!” Jaemin yells from across the street, a big grin accompanying. “Want me to walk with you?”

“Sure!” You smile back. Walking with you will only delay him by ten minutes and it’s not like Jaemin cares about getting to class on time anymore. He’s the only guy that hasn’t cared about class timings even in freshman year—well, him and Hyuck—and you’ve got to say, he does emanate a very relaxing aura. 

What if that’s some superhero power too? You think before shaking your head. It would be convenient if Jaemin was going to sit the villain down for tea and give them therapy. 

“You’re not gonna believe what happened yesterday,” he says.

“The gargoyle?”

“Yup, he took my phone! Why didn’t I complain earlier?” He furrows his brow, hard at thought.

You laugh, about to respond when a loud crash, a grunt, and an ‘oof’ follow one after the other on the opposite side of the street. 

“Is that… Spiderman?” Jaemin blinks.

“Huh?” Your eyes follow to where he’s focused and an incredulous laugh bubbles up to your throat as you try to hold it in.

Spiderman is lying with his back flat on the pavement, and you’re sure Hyuck needs a checkup at the hospital for sure this time. He doesn’t look like he’s in mortal danger, just horribly exhausted after the accumulation of injuries. You run over, Jaemin following with long strides.

“I’m not following you guys, you have a stalker,” Spiderman informs with a finger raised, voice painfully raspy and bordering on a whine. You’re not sure what height he fell from but his back is definitely not okay.

“Okay, Spiderman,” Jaemin says, raising an eyebrow.

“Not you, twerp,” he snaps, groaning as he gets up and you grab onto his arm to help him stand.

“He’s in a bad mood,” you tell Jaemin, apologetic but not sure why. You’re not Spiderman’s mom.

“Also, I need help with my late assignments,” Donghyuck whispers to you.

“I’m sorry, what?” You whisper through your teeth. “You’re making me miss class for this?”

“There really is someone following you!” He whisper-yells.

“Are you both gonna keep aggressively whispering to each other?” Jaemin asks. “(name), I didn’t know you were so close to Spiderman.”

“I’m- uh- We became friends a few days ago,” you explain. 

“Friends is hardly the word,” Spiderman interrupts, “More like a lucky fan.”

You give him a disgruntled look.

“Oh, that’s great for you, (name)!” Jaemin breaks into a teasing smile. “You’re always—”

“Aah, let’s go, Spiderman! I feel an ominous presence. My spidey senses are tingling.”

Spiderman stares directly at you and you can’t see his face, but you think his lips are curling into a smile just about now.

“Are you gonna swing me back?” You ask, hope twinkling in your eyes, and Jaemin chuckles beside you.

“No, my bac—you know what, sure.” He shrugs. You’re not sure what made him agree so fast but you’re overjoyed, a little bounce on your feet following your ‘yay!’

“You’re so cute, (name),” Jaemin says, laughing, and you flash him a peace sign, sticking out your tongue. You don’t exactly think you’re cute. You just get excited easily. (“Like a dog,” Donghyuck said once before getting whacked in the head.)

Jaemin starts, “You know, we should—” 

“Alright! It’s time to leave. Have fun at class, dude,” Donghyuck says, placing an arm around your waist and flashing Jaemin a peace sign, copying yours.

“That’s so rude—”

You’re swung up alongside your best friend, your legs wrapping around his waist and your arms around his neck so he can let go of you and focus on swinging.

“(name). (name). A little loose on the neck—gah! Your hand is on my nose! Why are you so bad at this?”

“I’m trying!”

“I can’t see! You’re covering my eyes now, holy shit.”

Before the two of you can crash through a skyscraper and get tens of thousands of glass cuts, Donghyuck lands safely on the roof of one of the shorter buildings beside. He wobbles forward, tripping and falling with you on him. He pulls off his mask, breathing heavily. The band-aid across his cheeks is coming off, the bright red scratch standing out.

“God, you’re bad at this,” you breathe out.

“Excuse me?! You’re the one getting all handsy over me.”

“You- You insufferable sack of—”

“You cannot resist me, can you?” He grins, dog-tired and yet with still enough nerve.

“I’m resisting a punch right now.”

“You can’t hurt me, I’m Spiderma—ow! Okay, you made your point.”

Your heart is still beating, the pulsing loud in your ears. You’re not sure how long adrenaline stays. All these years and you don’t know when your heart gave up trying to predict him. Behind intelligent eyes and a soft frame of face, you have no idea what he’s about to say or do next. Maybe that’s what makes him so fun. Maybe your heart was always beating this fast around him and you couldn’t hear it over the sound of his voice, warm like liquid sunlight and sweet as honey. You should’ve recognized it behind the mask right away.

“I don’t- I don’t get to chill on a roof much,” he says, “Contrary to popular belief.”

“So, this is nice?” You smile.

“I like swinging better.”

You sit up grinning. “Let’s go!”

“Let an injured man rest a little.”

So, when you do get home, it’s past midnight. Hyuck had to make a few stops between to catch a cat burglar along with a literal cat, but on the whole, you think you’ll never feel the wind on your face like that again. You’re also touched that Lee Donghyuck agreed to swing you around New York after all that he goes through.

He’s just a boy, you think. Why does the city rest so comfortably on his shoulders?

“You know, this is the first time I’ve climbed in through my own window,” you tell him as he steps into your room and closes the window behind him. “Also, it’s so fucking cold. Is your suit heated?”

“Stark product,” he answers proudly, taking off his mask to shoot you a boyish grin.

You smile back at him. 

“Oh, shoot, homework,” Donghyuck realizes out loud, eyes widening as he scuffles around.

“Oh, shoot, Jaemin,” you remember. “You should apologize to him.”

“What, now? I will not tarnish Spiderman’s reputation by breaking and entering just to apologize.”

“It sounds like something he’d do.”

“Shit, you’re right. But I’m not apologizing to him—it’s like middle school again.”

He huffs, crossing his arm.

“What happened in middle school? Oh, was it when Lana dumped your sorry ass for Jaemin?”

“No- Yes- but- gah, why do you remember that?”

“Ooh, are you jealous of Jaemin walking me to class?”

“No, that’s stupid.”

“You’re too busy to walk me home, anyway,” you tease.

He chuckles, pressing his tongue against his cheek, at a loss for words.

Right then, shuffling outside your room puts the two of you on alert. Donghyuck is still in the suit and both of you struggle to get it off as quickly as possible before Jaemin or any of your friends discover Hyuck’s secret and it gets messy.

“Woah, when did you get abs?”

“I was born sexy, why are you asking me now?” He responds. “Pass me a shirt.”

Before you can reach for any of your T-shirts, the door opens with a loud creak and Jaemin stares blankly at you, mouth open but no words come out. That’s when you realize what it looks like—Donghyuck is in his boxers in your room, you’re holding the suit bunched up and the both of you are up in each other’s personal space. 

“The walls are thin,” Jaemin says, “I’ll put on some earphones. You guys better be practicing safe sex.”

“It’s not like that!” You and Donghyuck yell at the same time.

“Then why did you strip Donghyuck in your room, (name)? Aren’t you cold, Hyuck? It’s late December.”

“He was trying on some clothes we ordered,” you answer quickly.

“Yeah, I’m playing Santa for some schoolkids downtown,” Donghyuck follows along.

“Isn’t that Spiderman though?” Jaemin points at the suit in your hands.

“I’m playing… Spiderman Santa…” Donghyuck explains.

Jaemin looks impressed and you’re so glad he doesn’t ask further. 

“You know, you had me scared there for a moment. I thought your obsession finally went too far and you convinced Hyuck to dress up as Spiderman for some kinky shit.”

Your ears burn hot. “That’s- I would never- what- why would you say that?”

“You have a pathetic crush.”

“I do not.”

“She’s totally crushing on Spiderman,” Jaemin informs, turning to Donghyuck. “Like, you don’t even know who he is. What if he’s like a thirty-year-old man? What if he’s Jake Gyllenhaal?”

“That’s not possible because Spiderman is a good guy,” you defend, crossing your arms.

“Ugh, (name), are you going to talk about how hot Spiderman is again or…?” Jaemin throws his head back. “Because he is not in my good books this week. First, he left me hanging in the middle of the street. And yesterday, he took my freaking iPhone and sent it to space! Oh, by the way, could you buy me a new one to cover the damage? I’ll forgive him then.”

“I’m not his PR manager,” you respond, exasperated, desperately avoiding Hyuck’s gaze from beside you.

“But you are his most loyal fangirl. That counts for something.”

“I’m not a Spiderman fangirl! Shut up.”

“By the way, I brought some medicine for Hyuck. I was going to tell you to buy it before Spiderman cut me off mid-sentence—you know, he’s a real asshole. Kind of like Donghyuck but his anonymity pisses me off.”

“Maybe he was in a bad mood and misunderstood,” Donghyuck mumbles.

“I know, I know.” Jaemin waves his hand around. “Guy has it rough. The peace of an entire city shouldn’t be one person’s burden. You think he has a life outside being a superhero? It must be sucky.”

“It’s not that sucky,” Hyuck counters, “Probably. I mean he gets to swing through buildings and stuff.”

Jaemin emits an exaggeratedly long groan. “So tiring.”

Donghyuck chuckles, Jaemin joining in. 

“Wow, thinking about being Spiderman tires me out,” Jaemin says, shaking his head. “Anyway, good night, guys. Remember to attend Karina’s Christmas party this weekend, and bring some alcohol because she never has enough. Also, if you guys decide to fuck—”

“That will never happen,” you say.

“Right,” Jaemin responds, a cheeky spark in his eyes. “I’ll sleep with earbuds on anyway.”

Jaemin turns around and leaves, not even closing the door. It’s like he’s a mother at the tender age of twenty-one because he sure acts like one. Donghyuck closes the door himself, turning around to give you his winning smile—the nerve in this boy is unmatched. He walks closer and your pulse spikes instantly.

“So, were you fangirling about me before you knew I was Spiderman or—”

“Shut up, Donghyuck,” you say, pressing both your hands to his mouth. Evidently, it does not help change his demeanor because he still gazes at you with the cockiest expression.

“Mmmpf- mmmh mmpsph?”

“Ew, did you just lick my palm like a dog? Your saliva isn’t gonna poison me, right?”

“No, stupid.”

You roll your eyes. “What were you saying?”

“How did you figure out I’m Spiderman?”

“You mean you didn’t think anyone could connect your mysterious disappearances with Spiderman’s mysterious appearances? Especially your best friend?”

“Yup, definitely thought I could run with it.”

“I mean, come on, you’ve responded to Spiderman once or twice. Also, you come in through the window sometimes, it’s really weird. And Jaemin said you’ve been leaking reds onto his whites whenever you do laundry.” 

He sighs, throwing his head back. 

“You can’t tell this to anyone, alright?” He says, returning his gaze to you. “Remember what I said about thinking before opening your mouth?”

“I’m not a kid anymore, Hyuck,” you mumble, leaning back and crossing your arms. “Of course I think before opening my mouth. Sometimes.”

He shakes his head. “This is why I’m smarter and have superhero powers.”

“I bet you really wanted to tell everyone.”

There’s a pause, and a smile fights its way onto his face.

“So bad,” he answers, clenching his fist. Your smile grows. 

“You have a cool job, dude.”

“But I don’t get paid. All I get is back pain.”

You laugh. Funny, sweet Lee Donghyuck. Always everyone's favorite and there's good reason to be. But you never saw him beyond your best friend. This whole unmasking thing was easy for you but now you're in a whole new dilemma of your own. You'd suspected it for a while. Were you already falling for him then?

Your eyes travel down and back up to his eyes. You clear your throat. “You should wear some clothes.”

“Why? You’re clearly enjoying this.”

Your face heats up even more. It’s not December anymore if the temperature is like this. You reach for your T-shirt and throw it at him, his laughter flooding your room with sunlight. 

You go through your missed notifications while he changes and you’re a little surprised to see the number of tags you have on Instagram. Apparently, someone caught footage of you on your little outing with NYC’s number one hero.

Donghyuck plops down on your bed, faceplanting into your pillow. “Ugh, do I have to turn in my assignments tomorrow? I’m late anyway, might as well take a whole week.”

“Christmas break starts the day after tomorrow. That means you’ll have to turn them in tomorrow.”

You get a muffled cry in response.

The video is just you holding onto Donghyuck for dear life alongside the gargoyle one from yesterday. It’s no big deal. You’ve been in news articles since you were six years old, owing to your dad’s ambitious business ventures. Ever since the first alien encounter twelve years ago, Earth has slowly been building up cordial intergalactic relations thanks to your very own father. That man has probably spent more time with aliens than he has with you. At the very least, you’ve got considerable pocket change. The tangled webs people weave for themselves are complex and hidden—sometimes you wouldn’t understand the people around you.

You sit down beside Donghyuck and he turns his head, looking up at you. You lie down directly onto him and he grunts, complaining about how heavy you are. Eventually, the two of you fit into the bed just fine.

The boy beside you made it so simple. You don’t have to understand complexities. You can just take them in and share your own till you’re all tangled up with other people. That’s how the world works—through tangles and knots and webs that make a pattern of cooperation. For the first time, you knew you had a little place to fit in. 

You want to hold his hand all of a sudden. They used to be very warm. You’re sure that hasn’t changed.

“Oh? Look, they wrote an article about the two of us,” you tell Donghyuck, tapping on the news notification that popped up. 

“If they’re being mean, let me know. I could really do with some new insults for you.”

“Hush,” you crib. “Spiderman involved with tech giant Nacorp CEO’s daughter…? They don’t even say my name anywhere!” 

A small chuckle leaves you before you can read the next sentence aloud. 

“The relationship is purely speculative at this stage but netizens suspect there may be monetary factors involved—what the fuck, do they think I’m your sugar mommy?”

Donghyuck is beside himself with laughter, snorts supplementing the silences in between. You can’t help but join in, tears pricking at your eyes.

“Whore,” you accuse, when you finally calm down.

Your foreheads are nearly touching and you’re aware friends aren’t supposed to stay at this proximity. Friends aren’t supposed to feel heartache looking at each other. Friends aren’t supposed to lean in.

A sudden rattling outside your window makes you jump away from each other.

“Is that a rat?” He asks, making a face.

The two of you get up to look outside. There’s nothing—just snow and two Italian men yelling on the floor below. But Donghyuck is on high alert, eyes scanning the perimeter and shoulders stiff.

“Something’s coming.”

You don’t like the sound of that.

Suddenly, he pulls you close and opens the window. A blast of air makes you cringe and you wonder how Hyuck is dealing with that in clothing so thin. Do spiders not feel cold? Or is it just a Donghyuck thing to be warm no matter where he is?

“We should spend some time at the ultra secure facility your dad has,” he says.

“What? Why?”

“I think someone has a grudge against you.”

You hold onto him as he climbs to the roof of your apartment building.

“They’re not gonna- They’re not gonna blow up this place, right?”

“They’re probably just after you,” he responds, eyes still on the horizon.

The sudden seriousness in him makes you feel chilly.

“The guy who was tailing you the other day, he was mostly just figuring out your routine. I thought your dad was planning an elaborate surprise party for you but his vibes were so off.”

“Wait, so this radioactive spider gave you a functional vibe checker too?”

“Yes, I am literally better than anyone you know. You don’t have to tell me you feel blessed, I already know.”

You roll your eyes. Even if he looks that serious, no word of his ever will be. 

You're about to open your mouth when a strange whirring fills the air, making you step closer to Hyuck. Why didn't you have a radioactive lion bite you or something? You could’ve been the queen of the concrete jungle. You're definitely making your next project a cool weapon. 

Donghyuck reacts before your eyes can catch the source of the disturbance. He slings a web opposite the direction you’re facing before pushing you down to the floor.

“Is that a man with a chainsaw arm?” You screech before squinting to see more clearly. “Holy shit, that’s kinda cool.”

You can finally see the perpetrator—a large bearded man with a noticeable scar across his pudgy nose, and most importantly, you see the chainsaw arm from which the loud whirring emanates. You really don’t think spiders can win against lawnmowers.

Donghyuck, however, is always ready to prove you wrong. A shot from his web -linger jams the chainsaw first.

“That buys us ninety seconds,” he tells you before shooting more webs at the man’s feet to root him.

Another shot at the man’s face makes him grunt in annoyance and Donghyuck takes the opportunity to drop a kick at the back of his knees, making him fall to the ground.

“Okay, big guy,” Donghyuck starts when he’s immediately met with a punch from the man’s left hand.

It makes you cringe, the blood running from his nose more so but he recovers quickly. He glances at you and signals a thumbs up.

“Focus on the guy,” you yell, exasperated.

“Right!” He yells back.

Donghyuck twists the guy’s chainsaw arm back and sticks it to the ground right when it breaks free, denying the man movement. You’ve gotta say, Donghyuck fights smarter and less flashy than you thought he would. 

“Who’re you working for and can you please turn yourself in? It’s really cold and I forgot my suit,” Donghyuck tells him.

The man snorts. “It’s a kid. It’s a fucking kid. I’ve got a daughter your age.”

“Sorry, I’m not interested. I’m sure she’s lovely but I have someone I like.”

The man groans. “It’s an annoying kid,” he corrects.

“Just tell me what’s going on,” Donghyuck presses.

“And I just want my money.”

“I’m not letting you hurt my friend,” he says, voice low.

“Look, I didn’t know the target was a little girl.”

“I’m an adult!” You yell to clarify.

The man looks conflicted, eyebrows furrowing into frustration.

“Christmas,” he says finally. “He wants to kidnap the daughter and get some money from the father. Not sure about the exact details. This guy is a newbie anyway.”

“Thanks!” Hyuck says brightly. “I’ll tell the police to shorten your sentence. Also, cool arm by the way.”

The man rolls his eyes. “Punk. You’re lucky I’m retiring soon.”

“I knew this guy would be cool, I didn’t sense bloodlust,” Donghyuck tells you, grinning. 

After the ordeal is over and Donghyuck has dropped the man in front of the police station, you can get no word in against staying at your dad’s security locker. Donghyuck won’t listen.

“Hyuck, I know you think it’s inconvenient but what am I supposed to tell my dad?”

“Anything! You just have to be safe till I find this guy.”

“I’ll be fine!”

“No! You won’t!” He sounds genuinely frustrated for once. “You do things before you think—it’s stressing me out.”

You frown. “I… I’m sorry, Hyuck. I just- If I make myself a weapon, am I good? I- I really don’t want to be stuck in a cold, steel room.”

He pauses to think before sighing.

“I’m not gonna say sorry because it feels weird in my mouth but… fine. You can just stay with me. Like within five feet at all times.”

“Jeez, do you want me to sit on your lap while we’re at it?”

Why would you say that? God is certainly frowning upon you.

Donghyuck doesn’t respond, eyes looking directly into yours and a flush shoots up to your neck and face.

“I was kidding. I was kidding! Obviously.”

It makes Donghyuck laugh, finally, albeit it’s a small and short one. It makes you remember Jaemin’s words. He’s just a boy. He shouldn’t be holding the thread an entire city’s peace hangs onto.

“It’s gonna be okay,” you say. “There’s so many other superheroes if this guy proves to be tough.”

He laughs. “I appreciate your attempt at comforting people, sunflower.”

“Hey, it’s not that bad!”

“I just want you to be safe. You’re an idiot so- you’re just accident-prone.”

Your cheeks are hot and you don’t know what to call this feeling. You wish you were closer, even if it was by a few more centimeters. 

“I’ll be fine,” you say finally, almost indignant. “If you underestimate me again, I’m going to make you wear a maid outfit over the suit.”

He blinks before a grin spreads across his face. You love it when you make him smile. Surely, there’s a name for this feeling?

“Alright, princess, let’s get this rat bastard dealt with then. It’s your first mission.”

“I won’t mess up, sir!” You salute, breaking into laughter and suddenly December is warmer and louder.

“Really? On the birthday of our lord and savior, Jesus Christ? It’s like he died for nothing, dude.”

Donghyuck looks at the man in black disapprovingly. 

This guy did not prove to be tough. Life is full of disappointments like that. It wasn’t that hard to find him, considering he was on your company-owned building’s helipad and looking like an adult emo, embarrassing even you. He has his henchmen with him, who are better dressed in formal suits and some funky patterned ties.

“You’re Spiderman,” the man snarls. 

“And I’m (name)!” You introduce yourself.

“I don’t really care. Men! Take care of the little girl.”

You place your hands on your hip. “You are so rude! Get him, Spidey.”

“Yeah, don’t be mean to my…uh, sugar mommy!” He points an accusatory finger at the guy.

The man is a little disappointing considering you spent an evening researching all the cool villains Spiderman has fought before. This guy just looks like a rat.

You blink.

On closer inspection, he looks uncannily like a rat. 

“Are you like a rat hybrid?” Donghyuck asks, scratching the back of his head. He’s in his suit but even through the mask, his confusion is obvious.

“You have no idea what this trashy billionaire does to his workers,” he growls. “And you’re judging me?”

“Let me guess, you fell into some weird radioactive stuff? You guys have got to stop falling into stuff! Follow some workplace safety guidelines for the love of Jesus,” Donghyuck complains.

The man turns red in the face. Not a humor kind of guy, you guess.

“Look, billionaires are trashy—except Tony Stark—and no offense, (name).” Donghyuck begins.

“None taken.” You shrug.

“But you’ve really got to plan stuff out before you do things. You don’t think cooler villains than you have tried this exact same thing? No offense.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not having a kid lecture me.”

“I’m not a kid!” he retorts quickly.

Instead of a verbal response, you’re met with a net shot right at you, tangling you in ropes as you fall backwards. You kind of expected this. You’ve been kidnapped before. Granted Thor was visiting Earth and it ended up being ten minutes of sitting in a van before getting saved. You also got a sweet autograph out of it.

The rat man—it’s a really inappropriate time to laugh at names—is faster than he looks, pinning Donghyuck down all of a sudden.

However, you’ve come prepared. Your little science project took only two days to make and it’s a mini laser shooter you made with stolen equipment from the company’s R&D department. Not as cool as you wanted, yes, but it serves its purpose. First, you need to have Hyuck distract them.

“Shouldn’t you be more worried about your damsel in distress?” The villain laughs, and Donghyuck shakes his head. How long did the guy practice to make it sound evil?

“First of all, that’s not a damsel in distress. If anything, she’s a rather distressing damsel.”

The villain looks unimpressed.

“Second of all, you should really look out for the Stark drones on your left.”

The man spins to his left, on high alert, and it creates an opening. Donghyuck shoots a web right at his face before landing a clean kick to his stomach. He gets in another sweep at the legs, making his opponent fall to the ground with a miserable thud and Donghyuck isn’t looking for praise, but he really hopes you’re absorbing how cool he is.

“I can’t believe you fell for it, dude! Are you new?” He laughs. In this moment, Donghyuck decides that he would make a great supervillain even if the laugh was a bit on the boyish side. He can work on it.

“Shut up,” the man snarls.

“You know, I hear that a lot.”

The henchmen charge in first and it’s an easy bunch for Donghyuck to handle. A guy with a machete, a guy with a gun, a guy with a—is that a laser beam? Hyuck dodges just in time to kick the guy in the face. Most of them are incapacitated after getting stuck by his web shots. He hopes he doesn’t get a web block any time soon.

A thin arrow pierces his left bicep, making him cry out in pain. 

“It’s poison!” The rat man laughs, a crossbow in hand.

“Seriously?” Donghyuck complains.

Before he can make a move, the villain yelps and drops the crossbow. He turns to see you gesturing a thumbs up with a huge grin, the ropes piling around you. Why are you sitting there casually? He thinks. 

“I just want the girl,” the man snarls, holding his hand. Looks like you got a finger or two. Ouch. 

“What did she do to you?” Donghyuck asks, frustrated. “Just take it up with the dad, you wimp.”

“I will not stand for it. If I take over the lab, the whole city will learn the wonders of genetic modifications.”

“There it is, you selfish plan. It’s like you don’t care about defeating billionaires anymore,” Donghyuck huffs.

“The whole city will be serving me as creatures superior to mankind. You see, rat genes—”

“You’re…telling me… you want to turn the whole of New York into rat people? Because you became one? Not to sound insensitive but isn’t that a bit extreme?”

“Of course, a little bas—”

Donghyuck throws a hard punch at the guy’s face, making him stumble backwards.

“You…”

The man passes out.

“Sorry, what? Were you talking? I genuinely thought it was a ‘punch you in the face’ kind of moment.” Donghyuck cups his ear.

He’s out cold.

“We did it, Hyuck!” You run over to him, jumping onto him to give him a tight hug.

“Whoa! I’m just glad I didn’t get a scratch on my face before tonight’s party.”

Your smile drops. “Wait, he said it was poison.”

You gently take his arm to inspect. He pulls away.

“I’ve dealt with poison before, you know? I still can’t believe it was a rat. What’s next, a lizard?”

You chuckle. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah, also, I’m swinging down so the press can get my good side.”

“What?”

He grabs you by the waist and jumps off the building with no warning, his laughter the only response to your scream. Donghyuck cannot believe he resorted to jumping off a building to avoid talking about his feelings. 

You’re still clinging onto him once he lands. A horde of reporters surround the two of you in a matter of moments. You forgot just how annoying they were. 

“Spiderman, who were you fighting?”

“Will there be more threats to the Nacorp Industries in the future?”

“Are you and (name) dating?”

“(name), any plans to take over the company?”

Donghuck clears his throat and an immediate silence follows.

“I- I was just clearing my throat,” he clarifies.

“Real smooth,” you snort.

“Why don’t you try answering, sunflower?” he whispers through his teeth.

A commotion ensues once again, questions flooding your ears and you swear you’ve never heard this many words at once before.

“Oh! I see Cat!” Donghyuck grabs your hand and makes his way through the crowd.

“Ooh, it’s Spiderman,” the pretty woman, who you assume is Cat, begins in a smooth voice. “What tidbit can we get from you today? You know the randomest fact boosts my salary so go ahead.”

She leans in to whisper the last part.

“Sicheng! Roll the cameras,” she instructs.

The cameraman, who looks terribly sleep deprived but still pretty, hums in response before signaling a go.

“Good afternoon, citizens. We have Spiderman here today with the lovely Ms (name) after they thwarted the attack by an anomaly at Nacorp Tower.”

“She knows me?” You whisper, a hot flush rising at the idea of someone as attractive knowing you.

“You’re, like, famous,” Donghyuck whispers back, clicking his tongue.

“I heard workers are often suffering at work sites but I have also heard that Nacorp CEO has made the decision to install AI worker suits that avoid hazards. Do you think this is a good idea, (name)?”

“Well, we have been working on it for a while and testing results are great! Like over a ninety-nine percent chance of success, and that is so cool. The demo will be out soon.”

Your bright smile makes everyone around smile instinctively.

“And Spiderman, this has been a hot question for a while now.”

She pauses to smile.

“What is your Zodiac sign?”

“Uh… Gemini?”

“Spiderman is a Gemini! You heard it first from Cat at the Daily Bugle, folks,” the reporter announces with a dazzling smile. 

“You two can go play in the snow now, the cameras are off,” she informs you before pulling Sicheng off the streets, “Have fun!”

Of course, you weren’t about to have a snowball fight in the middle of Times Square. So you return to your apartment—you’re getting used to the swinging now though Donghyuck still thinks his windpipe has suffered permanent damage.

“No, no, no, (name), this suit is skintight!”

A girlish scream follows as you manage to pull his suit back and shove a snowball inside, the evilest laugh he’s ever heard ringing through the empty roof. You were the supervillain all along—with your gorgeous laugh and stunning eyes and sincere words. He’s far off the deep end now.

God, why can’t he just spit it out? He’s in love and there’s no way to untangle himself out of these feelings. Tonight, he promises himself.

“So Spiderman swings by and says ‘Hey, nice phone, I’m gonna chuck it into space’ and now I have no phone,’ Jaemin tells Karina and Winter, both of them giggling at his miserable expression.

“I didn’t know you were a pushover, Jaemin,” Karina snorts. 

“I’m not! I was so sleepy that before I knew it, Spiderman stole my phone.”

“It’s been almost a week, get over it,” Hyuck mutters.

You chuckle at his annoyed expression.

Lana rolls her eyes beside Jaemin. You genuinely can’t believe she’s been with him all these years but you supposed she’d say the same about you and Donghyuck being best friends.

“You’ve lamented about your phone like thrice,” Yeji comments from behind the couch. “Also, (name), help me get some more beer cans. Ugh. I don’t know why you guys have this shit when wine exists.”

“I’m financially stressed, leave me alone,” Jaemin mutters, “And I agree on the wine part, actually.”

Everything is fine for now. You think you’ll stick to the lab instead of fighting—at least until you get more flexible. Epic battles are better suited to comic books, and so are grand gestures.

There’s just one thing unresolved now. Your damn feelings. The festive atmosphere is making you crave proximity, just one chance to tell him. You never knew what longing felt like before.

You follow Yeji outside the house, dragging your feet as you run a few million scenarios. God, why isn’t there AI to fix your love life? Do you have to ask the wizards for help? 

“So… Is it true you’re dating Spiderman?” Yeji asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” you answer quickly. 

“Oh good,” she sighs and you tilt your head inquisitively.

“I think you and Donghyuck should be a thing. No pressure though.” She raises her hand in a dismissive gesture.

“He’s… well… I can’t really tell what he’s thinking,” you answer honestly.

She hums. “Just tell him, then. You know him best and communication is key. God, I sound like a mother; Ryujin was right.”

You laugh and she smiles back at you. 

“Also, I bet money on you getting together with Donghyuck,” she says.

You roll your eyes. “Why did I expect that? My friends are all pretty jerks.”

She snorts. “Your choice of best friend gives it away. Oh, by the way, you don’t really have to help me with the beer, I just wanted to make sure you’re kiss kiss falling in love.”

“Huh?”

Instead of answering, she skips away with a cryptic smile. There’s another person you can’t decode but she truly is a fairy godmother.

You shiver at the cold, turning to go back inside when you hear shuffling on the roof. Donghyuck slowly lowers on a web, upside down and brown hair a mess around him.

“Renjun gave me a pep talk on the roof,” he says frankly.

You laugh. “Yeji gave me mine.”

“Our friends are really fed up with us, huh?”

“Are you- uh- are you sure you should be doing this in public?” You look around before stepping in close.

“No one’s getting out in two degree temperature, stupid.”

You don’t realize how close you stepped in till your noses touch and an instant flush floods Donghyuck’s face. Your heart beats so fast and for a moment, you think you can hear his. (It’s even faster than yours.)

You press your lips against his without further thought. The action, however, makes him let go of the web and faceplants onto the snow-covered ground. You hold in your laughter as he simply lies on his stomach there, his ears growing increasingly red.

He gets up, nose and cheeks all red.

“Good evening, Rudolph.” You giggle, unable to hold it in.

“Look, I tripped over Chenle and faceplanted onto a bowl of chili, okay? Who brought a bowl of chili to a Christmas party?” He complains, dusting the snow off.

You laugh, the warmth reaching your stomach.

“You know, we just kissed, right?” You mumble, starting to feel embarrassed.

There’s a silence and you’re not sure how to face him now. How did your confidence drain so easily? Your mother said you’d never run out of obnoxiousness—and she said the same thing about Hyuck. (“So you two better stick together, darling.”)

“Hyuck- okay, I’m sorry- that was uncalled for- I- I- just—”

Your words dissolve in your mouth when his lips meet yours.

“I- I- just- wow, I don’t- god, you made me so mad! Why did you go silent all of a sudden? I—”

He plants his lips on yours again.

“—you asshole… I swear—”

“(name). You’re rambling. Just shut up and kiss me.” He smiles against your mouth and you can’t help it either.

“You think it was the right thing to do?” You ask, peering down at Donghyuck on your lap.

“What was?”

“Rat man wasn’t exactly wrong. There are working hazards.”

“He was the same kind of wrong, just a different perspective. Turning NYC into rats is a bit much.”

You laugh. 

“Are you gonna get up any time soon?”

“I just fought a weird lizard man trying to turn New York into lizard people, give me a break,” he groans, burying his face against your side.

“I can’t believe you almost died again,” you say distastefully. 

“All’s well that ends well,” he says, shrugging.

“But I’m a new hell every time~” You sing.

He gives you the blankest expression he can muster.

“Okay, fine, but if we’re not singing Taylor Swift, we’re not singing Justin Bieber either.”

“Ugh, fine, Mariah Carey it is. She’s like my mom anyway.”

“You saved her once and your voice cracked when you spoke to her.”

“Never happened. Stop lying, (name).”

“Your cheeks are red.”

“They are not.”

“Like my favorite album.”

“Ugh.”

“And my favorite superhero’s suit color.”

A soft laugh erupts from him as he looks down and back at you. Gosh, he’s pretty. You slip your hand into his and he gives it a squeeze.

“My favorite superhero's Iron Man, by the way,” you say, a cheeky grin accompanying.

“Shut up, you love me.”

[1kook]

some way, some how

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

Summary: Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you. Warnings: emotional constipation, toxic ex, internalized misogyny, jk has bad experiences w/his ex’s dad, one scene where jk throws up, brief episode of panic, mentions of terminal cancer (minor); smut; fingering, praise kink, face fucking, spitting kink, cunnilingus, unprotected sex on top of a car im sorry Misc: autoshop owner!jk, businesswoman!oc, slice of life, childhood crushes, friends to lovers, ex gfs, pining, country bumpkin pjm w/crush on oblivious oc, ex-bf kth but it’s not real lol Wc: 19.4k (wow!!!)

the spirit of auto shop jk possessed me n next thing i knew i was 11k into a drabble. if ur curious: the 1975 corvette, car at the end, the tweed suitskirt (not actually chanel ☹���sowwyyy) also: this is the longest fic I've written!!!!! clap for me!!!!! i proofread the first few paragraphs n was like thats enough professionalism for the day

inspired by ain’t no mountain high enough one of my fave songs ever🥺 the title is a lyric from the song bc i love it so much enjoy !!

The garage is mostly dark when you enter, the faint hum of a radio quietly filtering through the stagnant room, its source coming from the back wall, where the only light is. It’s a rolling lamp, shining down an ugly yellow glow onto the figure of one man.

Jungkook’s sitting in that same rolling stool he always is, the metal one that’s rusted beyond repair, the cushion so uncomfortably flat. He’s caught up in whatever paint job he’s been tasked with this time around, a classic muscle car from what looks like the 80’s. He’s humming along to the radio, so caught up in stenciling out his design that he doesn’t notice you creep behind him until you’re very purposefully rattling the tool cart beside him, a teasing “boo!” making him jump.

“Fuck, you scared me,” he gasps, rubs over his chest as if to check if his heart is in fact still there. You grin, brandish your bag of takeout out for him before he can lecture you on the dangers of startling people who work around very complex machinery. Instead, all he says is, “you’re an angel.”

Once you’ve got the food carefully scattered across his work bench, your cherry cola tucked next to a canister of gasoline like that’s the safest practice, Jungkook wastes no time diving into all the details of his project, the 1975 Chevy Corvette behind him. The longer you look at it, the more you feel you’ve seen it somewhere. Probably a car show, you presume.

“Purrs like a kitten,” he sighs dreamily, completely ignoring the way half his toppings slide out from the opposite end of his cheeseburger. You don’t, and you swipe a fallen pickle from his tray before he can catch you.

“A kitten?” You ask, glance over at the car. It’s desperately in need of a paint job, and you only realize this now as you stare at it more in depthly. The niggling feeling that you know this car is still there, but you ignore it in favor of indulging your best friend. “Don’t people usually compare cars to bigger, better cats?”

There’s a taped stencil running alongside the car, a thick stripe followed by a thinner one, and you suppose Jungkook’s trying to spice her up, give her back the same youthfulness she probably had in her prime. What better way to do so than by adding some classic stripes alongside it.

Jungkook hums, gulps down his soda noisily. “Not this one. Never heard an engine as soft as hers.”

You roll your eyes. For a minute, the two of you quietly chew through your burgers, the radio filling in the gaps while you analyze the car. You know this car, but you can’t remember where. Jungkook coughs into his palm, probably from trying to inhale his fries too fast like he does every time you go to the diner you’re eating from today.

The diner.

A mouthful of braces. A pretty waitress. A strict dad.

“Holy shit, this is Sojin’s dad’s car,” you inhale, the memories from high school suddenly hitting you full force. Jungkook chokes, out of surprise this time, and furiously goes to deny your claims. “This is totally his car. The one he tried to run you over with when he caught you trying to put her on the back of your bike.”

“He didn’t try to run me over,” Jungkook whines, and the tips of his ears are red from your revelation.

You glare. “Why are you fixing that asshole’s car for him?” You interrogate, the last quarter of your burger forgotten in favor of squeezing the truth out of him. You’d had enough of that treacherous woman and her equally deranged father causing Jungkook trouble, and to catch him still helping her now, almost ten years later, was enough to make a brain vessel pop.

He shrugs, avoids your eyes as he picks through his fries. The radio is still on, some tune you recognize from those old days at the diner when Jungkook had become so unbelievably smitten with the part timer that served you milkshakes every Wednesday afternoon.

He had been in love with her the moment he saw her, and the look in his eyes was only magnified by those dorky glasses he wore pre-lasik. You'd been his friend long enough, recognized the jump of his scrawny thigh beneath the table. Like a bunny, thumping in excitement at the sight of her.

Sojin was... full of surprises.

She was nothing less than a supermodel, long legs carrying her around the diner as if it was her runway. She was nice too, so you hadn’t originally had an excuse to dislike her. She was nice, and so endeared with your best friend that it was inevitable when they began dating. Her presence consumed the end of your high school careers, overtook the time that should have been yours and Jungkook’s last year before being thrown into adulthood. He decided on studying at a technical school nearby—per your encouragement to save money—while you travelled five hours out for your degree in business. That last year, when you had finally come to terms with your feelings, had been so painfully ripped away by Sojin and her never-ending list of teenage drama, and by Sojin’s dad and his overbearing need to police her and Jungkook every chance he got.

Jungkook still hung out—“Sojin was busy, do you wanna do something?”—but more often than not those hang outs consisted of Jungkook telling you about her and her dad, about how hard he tried to get into his good graces.

The bike incident had only been one of many. Times where Jungkook would put his heart—and life—on the line for that girl only for it to be in vain every time she broke up with him over the simplest things. You’d heard stories from Jungkook, all told with a tight smile, of a handshake that would bruise, a man chasing him with a bat, of a car following him to school. All things he put up with for a girl who didn’t care for him. One day, after Jungkook had grudgingly sat through an hour long dinner with her family, the stare of her father piercing through him, she broke up with him because she didn’t like how long his hair had gotten.

(If anyone were to ask you, he was handsome with long hair. Dreamy even.)

He cut it that same day.

As her childishness grew, you quickly came to dislike her. She strung Jungkook around, you thought, and just when you thought she was finally done toying with him and making his life difficult in the sneakiest ways, the damn kid started hitting the gym. His growing frame, toned arms and now straightened teeth had turned him into a heartthrob, and Sojin was just as aware of this as you were. “Don’t we look perfect together?” She’d ask, twirl around him like they were on the cover of a magazine and not standing on his chipped front porch.  

Needless to say, by the time graduation had rolled around you despised the woman. You absolutely disliked how she treated Jungkook, how she let her father treat Jungkook without ever stepping up and defending him. Granted, you didn’t know exactly what went on in her household behind closed doors, you’d seen enough of her uncaring attitude to want to ram her and her dad’s head against the hood of the car.

Which is why seeing the old car, in Jungkook’s shop nonetheless, was rekindling a boiling hatred in your chest. “That man should rot in hell for all he put you through,” you huff, glare at the car like it holds some magical connection to him and he can feel the intensity of your stare.

“___,” Jungkook scolds, swirls his cup around to distract himself. “He was just trying to protect his only daughter,” he defends, quietly, like it’s what he tells himself to justify all those years of mistreatment. Even when he and Sojin had continued through college, it had never stopped. You, being five hours away, couldn’t do a damn thing. “Besides, the guy’s old as hell now.”

You snort, finally breaking your staring match with the car. Glancing at Jungkook, he’s got that same forlorn expression on his face, the one he started wearing when he first came to terms with the fact that her dad would never like him. There was a time it was stuck permanently on his face, the pressure and the discomfort that came from the father of the girl you’ve dated for five years looking at you like you were nothing more than a speck of dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

When you came back from school, educated and confident, you almost didn’t recognize your best friend. Tall and broad, tattoos splattered over his arm. Hair long like you loved it, but eyes still as round and wondrous as they’d been when you were kids. He had his own place now, he told you, and you vaguely remembered all the times he mentioned him and Sojin moving in together, mentally preparing yourself to see that wench for the first time in a while.

Much to your surprise, there was no Sojin in sight. No lingering artifacts of her presence. Nothing that showed she existed in this space besides an ugly orange mug she’d given him for his birthday one year, tucked into the very back of his cabinets. They’d broken up, he explained. Almost immediately after graduation.

After stringing him along for the better part of five years, she had decided this wasn’t what she wanted. No, what she wanted was a man ten years her senior with an abundance of cash to flow. Jungkook hadn’t cried. Hadn’t even looked the tiniest bit upset when you ordered pizza and drank some beer, watched your favorite episodes of The Simpsons like you were seventeen and avoiding your homework again.

You stayed the night, a little too tipsy to drive home. Besides, Jungkook had a spare bedroom. It was a room beside his, just a full bed with a chest of drawers. You liked it, liked the scent of him surrounding you after only seeing each other for a couple weeks in between months of distance. You liked it, because when he shifted in bed you realized the beds were pressed against the same wall, and you liked it until the shared wall spared you no secrets, and you listened to him quietly sob into his pillow.

“Old or not, he’s still the devil,” you murmur, snapping back to the present where Jungkook is wheeling himself closer to the car again. “Where did you find that thing anyway?”

He stays silent, quietly pretending like he still has something to do on the car besides paint it. Then, “I bumped into Sojin at the store.”

You sigh, drop your head between your shoulders. You can only imagine what whirlwind of a sob story she had to throw on him to win this favor.

“Kook,” you start, gauging his reaction only from his backside. His muscles ripple beneath his dark t-shirt, his usual red jumpsuit knitted around his waist. “What happened?”

Again, silence.

You say nothing, let him sort through the hurt on his own while you creep up behind him, sliding your hands over his shoulders and pressing down on the cricks behind his neck. He melts into your touch, head lolling forwards as a quiet sigh escapes him.

“She told me she was low on cash, and she needed the car to get to work,” he confesses, and from his ducked position, his voice trembles. You roll your eyes.

“And the paint job?”

A particularly rough press of your fingers has a whimper escaping him. God, this boy needed to see a chiropractor and a masseuse soon. All that hunching over and under these cars was doing a number on his back.

“I… I figured I might as well fix up the exterior too.” Of course he would, you think, Jungkook’s heart was stupidly big and easy to manipulate. He would get so swept up in it sometimes, trying to do the best he can for everyone’s benefit that he’d ignore himself.

You sit in his confession, fingers digging into his skin for a few minutes as you consider what to say.

The mature adult in you, the logical half of you, wants to hit him upside the head, scold him for letting that wench into his life again so easily. You were going on twenty-six now, all three of you, and you didn’t have time to be fixing him every time that childish woman decided to toy with him. Granted, it’s been four years since you last saw her, since you heard him muffle his cries on the other side of the wall, and you liked to think Jungkook was a respectful adult of society now. He didn’t have time to get dragged around by self-absorbed women with insane fathers.

The other part, the best friend since childhood, wants to run away. Wants to pack Jungkook into a suitcase and take him far away from here and from her. Unlike you, who now lived in the city, Jungkook had stayed in your small hometown, a quiet place just outside the bustling city. It was difficult to ensure his happiness when you were always forty-five minutes out of reach. It would be so much easier to just take him and fly to another province, maybe on the beach, Jungkook loved the beach.

“Listen,��� he says, successfully pulling you out from your spiral. “I know what you’re gonna say and I just wanna tell you it’s not like that.”

You blink, hands stilling on his shoulders. Your lack of movement allows him to spin around on his chair, gaze up at you with the same shiny gaze he’s given you ever since you were kids. “I’m just doing her this tiny favor. She looked...” he trails off, face scrunching to find the words.

“Like shit?” You propose, and he smiles. “Like flaming dumpster shit behind a club?”

Jungkook laughs, loud and beautiful. You want to kiss the mole beneath his lip.

“She looked bad, okay?” He settles, reaches forward to take your palm in his. You’re standing between his thighs, and you wonder how he would have acted if you were Sojin. “Don’t think things worked out with that CEO she was dating. I’m just giving her a push.”

You sigh, try to push those crestfallen sobs to the back of your head. “Okay,” you agree, briefly glancing back at the damn car. “You fix her car, and that’s it,” you state. Jungkook nods, makes a little X over his heart. He knows how much you hate that woman. “No funny business.”

“No funny business,” he agrees, then reaches down for a white spray can. “You wanna spray some dicks on it before I paint it?”

“Please,” you laugh, taking the face mask he offers you with a grin.

—

One day your car starts making a weird noise as you pull out of the underground parking garage of your building. It’s somewhere between a pig squealing and metal scraping. You’ve been around Jungkook long enough to know this is probably something to do with your breaks, something about them being loose or old, one of the two. You have a short day at work today. There’s repairs being done to the office you work at, so everyone’s been spending more time working from home.

You leave work a little after two pm, head pounding from the hour long meeting you sat through, the mediocre business proposals your boss had asked you to look through and file. There’s a hefty load of emails waiting in your inbox, mostly the interns requesting you write them a recommendation letter. You’ll have to look through those later, pick out the good ones and write them each a unique piece kissing the ground they walk on.

The scent of freshly fried donuts hits your nose as you pull into your old town; the bakery down the road from Jungkook’s has their windows open. You can already taste the sweetness on the tip of your tongue, the iced coffee cooling your insides as you sit and watch Jungkook work on your car.

Jungkook’s shop is on the corner of the street, takes up a huge chunk with it’s massive garage and driveway; the office area is tiny compared to the sheer size of the actual work floor. There’s music blaring through the overhead speakers, and when you pull in you recognize it as Jimin’s playlist.

“Morning, Miss,” the country bumpkin says, leaning against your car door as you rifle through your purse. “What’re you in for?”

“Hi, Jimin,” you reply sweetly, take his hand as he helps you out the door. You very vaguely explain the noise your car had made that morning, glancing around the shop as Jimin gets to work inspecting it. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin’s waving over some other employees, all greeting you in their matching red jumpsuits. “Kook’s in the office,” he tells you, and it’s almost sensual the way his hand glides over your palm for your keys. God, you needed to get laid. “Has some lady friend in there with him.”

You pause, the bustling of the crew behind you fading into the background. Something inside you snaps, and you whirl around the garage, before catching sight of a 1975 Chevy Corvette, almost unrecognizable from how you’d last seen it. It’s bright red now, a color you only briefly saw before you’d left the other night, with two, lightning bolt racing stripes decorating each side. It looks new, almost in mint condition, and the fact it’s still here has you storming through the garage.

Your heels clack loudly, the crew moving to the side as you torpedo straight into the offices. You barely remember to greet the receptionist before you’re stomping straight into the main office.

There’s no knock, no warning given, before you’re flinging the door open, seeing exactly what you’d expected. 

“___,” Jungkook stutters, jumping onto his feet from his position on the couch. He looks frantic, wide eyes flickering between you and the woman sitting in front of him, her back turned to you. But you’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.

“Did you say ___?” She says, and she’s still as tall and as beautiful as you remember her. Had it not been for the heels you wore, you don’t doubt she’d tower over you. She flashes you a killer smile, lips carefully painted red. It almost looks murderous. “My! ___, you haven’t changed a bit,” Sojin exclaims, rushing around the couch to pull you into a tight hug. You don’t return it.

You let her cling to you for a second, before pushing her away as gently as you can by the shoulders. As much as you’d like to rip her in half, tear her apart for all she did to Jungkook, you won’t. You’re older now, elegant in all the ways you weren’t before. It would be a huge disservice to your maturity if you shoved your heel up her ass right now.

“It’s lovely seeing you, Sojin,” you smile, taking her hand in yours.

Besides, being a woman in business meant you knew better, more creative ways to strike.

“And your boyfriend?” You ask, tilting your head in staged confusion. You even glance around the office, like you’ll find the geezer hiding behind the potted plant or Jungkook’s frozen figure. “The rich one with the huge company? Did he come with you today?”

Her smile tightens, red lips pursed as she gauges you with those cat eyes that haunt your nightmares every now and then. “My ex-boyfriend,” she corrects after a minute, pastes a forlorn expression onto her features. “We’ve separated, and you know how it is for women like us,” she jests. “We need a man to push us along—“

“Do we?” You ask, think back on all those years of school, of studying and working and pushing yourself, all the time you spent investing in yourself for yourself. “I don’t think so,” you contemplate. “It’s really embarrassing if you can’t care for yourself without the help of a man. Almost like you don’t trust in your own abilities, and ride other’s coattails instead.”

A beat of silence. Two completely different worlds, and Jungkook hovering awkwardly beside you.

Two palms grasp your shoulders from behind, and when you turn Jungkook is smiling at you, forced and stressed like he can’t stand to be in this uncomfortable situation any longer. “Well,” he announces, pushing you behind him as he guides Sojin towards the door. “There was an issue with her car, so I’ll just check on it real quick, okay?”

You nod, feel empty as he takes her by the wrist, and not you. He hands her her purse, palm on the small of her back as they exit the office. When the door clicks shut behind them, you throw your own handbag at the ground, barely stop yourself from stomping like a child.

Instead, you breathe in, hold it, and exhale, just like your Tuesday yoga instructor taught you. By the time you’ve collected yourself a few minutes have passed, so you kneel down to gather your fallen lipstick tubes and cellphone from the floor, scooping them back into your purse.

Tugging the door shut behind you, you mindlessly wander down the hall, until you reach the small receptionist area and nearly get jumped by Kim Taehyung. “Holy shit, you won’t believe this,” he gasps, takes you by the shoulders and nearly shakes you until your brain falls out through your ears. You would have slapped him, had this been any other man, but he’s quite possibly the only man besides Jungkook you’d let jostle you like this. “You’ll never guess who just left the office with J—wait,” he pales, suddenly connecting two and two, your exit from said offices definitely a key factor in whatever conclusion he’s drawn. “You were in the office with Hwang Sojin and you didn’t kill her?!”

You huff, let him shake you again until you’re nearly tripping in your heels. “Yes, I know,” you groan, finally slap his hands away when you begin to feel this morning’s breakfast bubbling from all the motion. “I’m surprised too.”

“Wow,” Taehyung marvels, leans back against the receptionist desk even though the poor girl has told him time and time again not to. He ignores her, something he can do as second best friend to the boss. “Remember when she showed up crying outside his mom’s house and you threw a potted plant at her? Oh how the great have fallen.”

Rolling your eyes, you drift over to the plexiglass window in the office that looks out across the entirety of the garage floor. In the corner, Jungkook’s got the hood of the Corvette open as he works away on something, Sojin tapping at her phone beside him. “Why are you here, Tae?”

He steps beside you, tuned into the same scene. “Can’t visit my ex-girlfriend every now and then?” He teases, you groan.

“We dated for three days, dude, let it go,” you whine, and watch with rapt attention as Jungkook motions for her to start the engine. She does, and it purrs to life, soft and silky just like Jungkook said it does. She squeals and claps, launches herself into his arms in thanks. You look away.

“Yuck,” Taehyung gags and you couldn’t agree more. “Can’t believe you ended the best 72 hours of my life for that pinhead and the hussy attached to his hip.”

He shrieks when you pinch his side, and you take great satisfaction in the judgemental stare half the crew sends him through the glass. After all, they weren’t soundproof. “You embarrassed me and my brand,” he huffs, crossing his arms as the two of you return to watching Jungkook and the hussy.

“He’s not a pinhead,” you softly retort, watch him wipe a bead of sweat off his forehead as he waves her off. Sojin sends him a brigade of air kisses, none of which he catches. A sick sense of glee consumes you at the sight, but then he’s turning to stare directly at you and Taehyung through the glass, and the both of you quickly whirl away.

“His ability to find you in less than a second is so weird,” Taehyung shivers, and you ignore it, taking the candy from the bowl on the receptionist desk. She doesn’t care, having heard these conversations more than enough times to get the general gist of what you and Taehyung gossip about. You’re surprised she’s never mentioned it to Jungkook before.

Regardless, you listen to Taehyung complain about his life for a few more minutes, before Jimin’s sweet voice pops into the room. His ash blonde hair is all ruffled, and there’s something dark smeared over his otherwise perfect skin as he tells you your car is fixed. Taehyung bids you goodbye, and Jimin walks you back to your car out on the garage floor.

“All set, miss,” Jimin grins, puts a hand against the car so you don’t hit your head as you go in. You thank him, and don’t miss the way he lingers by your window.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, tilt your head quizzically. Jimin’s cheeks flush, and he looks shyly at the ground.

“Actually, I was wondering if—“

“___,” Jungkook calls, jogging over beside Jimin, who looks almost ashamed to be caught doing...whatever it was he was gonna do. Jungkook glances at him, catches him in some weird staring contest before crouching down to your window. “You needed your car fixed? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You blink, don’t know how to politely tell him he was too busy kissing the ass of his toxic ex-girlfriend to help you out. “Jimin helped me,” you smile, the same practiced expression you’ve mastered since college. You usually get by, usually trick people with that look, but not with him. Jungkook knows you too well, knows that look, and knows you’re holding yourself back. “You were busy.”

His lips part in surprise, tugged downwards with the hint of a frown. “I,” he stutters, looks at Jimin, who doesn’t seem that impressed with him either. “I… I would’ve came if you called.”

You tug your sunglasses out from their little case, slide them over the bridge of your nose as you strap your seatbelt over yourself. “Would you though?” You ask, flash him another polite smile before shifting your car’s gears. Jimin walks off, clears the path for you to exit, and with just Jungkook standing there, you speak freely. “I would hate to distract you from something important.”

—

Some of the proposals end up being better than expected, and after carefully sifting through them, your boss asks you to sit through presentations for the next few days. Your time gets consumed in graphs and budgets. There’s a multitude of businesses you have to look into, some big and well-known, and others small and local. You drive around the city one day, visiting business after business, until your ankles hurt in your heels and your cheeks hurt from all the smiling. Your only comfort is the nice Chanel skirt suit you’re wearing that makes you feel like the most important person in the room wherever you go.

By the time the week’s over, there’s a thin cut forming on the back of your ankles from all the walking you’ve done in your heels. You slump against your front door, tossing your heels in the vague direction of the closet before padding through your house.

You nearly scream yourself sore at the figure in your kitchen, hunched over what looks to be a hastily made cake with a number three candle. “Oh my god,” you seethe, turning the overhead light on to illuminate Jungkook’s grinning figure, dirty and sweaty from work. You glance at the clock on the stove; it’s only been about an hour since his garage closed.

“Surprise!” He exclaims, and you’re not the slightest bit amused when he begins humming the happy birthday song on a day that is definitely not your birthday.

When he’s done, you don’t clap and his beaming smile doesn’t waver. “It is not my birthday,” you calmly state, placing your leather padfolio on the counter.

Jungkook blows the candle out for you. “It’s the birthday of when we first met,” he explains, and gets to cutting the cake. How he remembers such a day, you don’t know. You do know that this is his mom’s birthday cake recipe, and you love that. “Can you believe it? Friends for almost three decades.”

“Almost,” you repeat, dutifully sitting across from him and taking the plate he offers. He nods at you like a bobblehead. 

His eyes are sparkly and big, like he’s drunk, and it’s only then you notice the red wine on the table, bottle open and halfway done. You set your fork down, grasp the neck of the bottle in your hand. “Have you been drinking?” You ask, even though the answer stares you right in the face. You frown. “You hate drinking.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, shovels more cake into his mouth to delay his response. “Needed it,” he offhandedly explains, nearly eats the candle but you jump forward to snatch it off his fork before he can.

“What do you mean?” You inquire. You’re not hungry anymore, too interested in whatever’s going on in his head to make him think he needs to be drunk around you.

Jungkook gulps, reaches forward for more wine but you cradle the bottle to your chest. You nearly gasp when he levels you with a real, stony glare, the expression out of place on his face. “Cuz you’re mad,” he huffs. “At me.”

There was a time you would coddle Jungkook’s every mistake, never let him think he was at fault for anything. You’d grown out of it shortly before high school, recognizing boys were stupid no matter how much you tried to prove otherwise. Since then, you’ve watched him get into trouble time and time again—Sojin being the prime example—and only intervened when absolutely necessary. Some part of you, the half that hates seeing him upset, wants to tell him you’re not. The mature part in you, however, doesn’t let that happen.

“I am,” you agree, watch his eyes widen almost comically at your admission. You set the wine bottle back on the table, leaning your chin on your palm as you level him with the most unimpressed gaze you can. “I’m furious, actually.”

He whimpers, actually whimpers like a kicked puppy, and you can almost see the metaphorical ears pressed against his head and the tail tucked between his legs. His lips are big and pouty, stained from the wine. You’d love to know what they feel like.

Jungkook’s vulnerability lasts all of three seconds, before he’s shaking himself out of whatever emotional pit his foggy brain has him in. “Well, it’s dumb,” he spits, and it’s your turn to sit in shock. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Excuse me?” You ask, incredulously, because this has never happened before. Are you overprotective and sometimes overbearing? Sure. Has Jungkook ever voiced discomfort with that before? Never. “I’m not telling you what to do,” you sneer, crossing your arms over your chest.

He rolls his eyes, pushes away from the table like a moody teen. You know it’s because he’s drunk, because he’s not himself, but you have to remind yourself that he obviously felt this way somewhere in his heart to voice it to you now. “You’re not my mom.”

You choke. “I’m not!” You angrily agree, pushing away from the table as well.

Jungkook snarls, “well you sure do love acting like her.” He picks up his plate, glances over at you with a look in his eyes that can only be likened to that of a sneaky cat, and then purposefully shoves the bread and frosting down the garbage disposal in the sink. You shriek, fly around the table and shove him away.

“What is wrong with you?” You seethe, push him away rudely with a hand on his face. Jungkook stumbles back, slips on the floor and nearly cracks his head on the corner of the counter. “Oh my god,” you exclaim, abandoning the sink in favor of watching the way his face twists up at the sudden motion, stomach contracting beneath his black t-shirt, cheeks puffing. “Oh god, oh god,” you stammer, tugging him to his feet with the strength only a panicked individual about to see an entire cake regurgitated onto their kitchen tile can have.

You’ve barely kicked the door to the bathroom open when Jungkook begins throwing up, gooey vomit spewing from his mouth and onto the floor. It touches your arm, and you shriek before shoving him in the general direction of the toilet.

“Ew, ew,” you freak, shoving your hand under the sink faucet to get that gross feeling away. You wanna vomit yourself, but you tell yourself there can only be one sick person at a time, and right now it’s Jungkook.

He’s got his head in the toilet, disgusting sounds echoing off the ceramic of it. By the time you’ve calmed down and washed your arm thrice, you move over to pull his bangs away from his face, letting him hurl in peace.

“I’m sorry,” he mopes, spews another round of birthday cake into the toilet.

You look away, blindly reach out to turn the bathroom fan on. “Mhm,” you nod, rubbing a hand over his back. Jungkook nods sadly against the toilet seat.

“‘M sorry,” he repeats, gags around nothing but the gross feeling left in his throat. “I-I know you just want…” a pause as he considers throwing up some more, “...want what’s best for me.”

“I do,” you agree, wipe a hand down the side of his face that he leans into. “Not trying to be your mom,” you assure him, and he snorts.

“Be a good mom,” he murmurs, so soft you don’t hear him. You hum, leaning closer and he repeats it. “You’d be… a good mom.”

Not knowing what to do with that information, you just pat his back until he falls asleep, cheek against the toilet seat.

—

“Woah, the sexual tension in this garage is off the charts,” Taehyung blurts from behind you, and you smack your clipboard against his chest. “Oof,” he grunts, rubbing his chest like it actually hurt. “You doing finances for him again?” He asks and you nod.

In an ideal world, Taehyung would leave upon finding out you’re busy. In this world, he simply leans into your personal space, nearly knocking you into an empty tool cart. “Oooh, an extensive list of all the money Jungkook’s stupidly blown this month. How much did he spend on neon signs this time?”

You relent, showing him the shop’s finances. Anywhere else, revealing a business’s finances without the consent of the owner would be a federal crime. Here, it’s the equivalent of showing Taehyung Jungkook’s browser history. “He spent how much on window tint?!”

“A lot,” you say.

There’s a whistle from across the garage, the shop’s resident country bumpkin Park Jimin standing at the huge garage doors with his hand on his hip. “No fraternizing, please.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Boooo,” he shouts, peels himself away from you to flick an impolite finger Jimin’s way. “He’s just jealous,” he tells you, and you frown.

“Of what?” You ask, and Taehyung nearly loses his shit.

“My precious ___,” he sighs, leans his forehead on your shoulder. “So beautiful and smart, yet so slow.” You flick the side of his forehead just as Jungkook strolls by and, seeing your attack, slaps the back of Taehyung’s neck. “Why do you guys hate me!” Taehyung exclaims, jumping at least five feet away from you and Jungkook’s giggling forms.

“How’s it going?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring Taehyung’s soulful cries as he glances over your shoulder at the clipboard. You tilt it his way, but he stands close anyway, until you can feel his breath huffing against the back of your neck.

“Okay, but you’re spending a lot of money stockpiling on things that haven’t shown signs of running out yet,” you explain, pointing at the window tint that had astonished Taehyung only a moment ago.

Jungkook grimaces, pink tongue swiping across his lip as he looks at the total amount he’s spent the last three months. “Well, it’s a good thing I have my accountant,” he grins, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“Not your accountant,” you correct, “just a friend who doesn’t wanna see you run your business to the ground from overspending.”

Jungkook waves you off, and Taehyung tries to sneak into the receptionist office behind you, but Jungkook catches him with his free hand. “This is the life,” he sighs, wistfully gazing over the garage floor. It reeks of motor oil and car paint.

“Count me out,” Taehyung snorts, voicing your disinterest toward such greasy and smelly work. He tries to wiggle out of Jungkook’s hold, but the muscle bunny only straps an arm around his neck, until Taehyung’s squirming and clawing for air against the red sleeve of his jumpsuit.

“My own successful business, a shitload of sexy cars, and of course,” he pauses, squeezes the two of you tighter until you’re both groaning. “My two best friends.” The sap has the gall to peck the top of your heads, and that seems to be the final straw for Taehyung who rips himself away.

“Have this lovefest somewhere else, man,” Taehyung says, flattening his rumpled clothing down. “You’re really putting a nail in my reputation around here.”

Jungkook cackles, mindlessly goes to wrap himself around you from behind. “Your reputation has been trash since that scream you let out the other day,” he informs him, swaying the two of you back and forth. Your heart thunders in your chest, and you just barely manage to avoid Taehyung’s pointed stare.

“Whatever, I’m outta here.” With Taehyung peaced out, you’re left in Jungkook’s arms, gazing over his business like two old lovers. It makes your chest tight, so you quickly go to shake him off.

“We’re okay?” Jungkook murmurs, so soft you almost don’t hear. He’s got his hand wrapped around your wrist, thumb massaging over the bone there like he’s afraid you’ll bolt the second he lets you go.

You nod, tuck the clipboard to your side. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Those sad puppy eyes, pouty lips turned southward. You want to wipe that look off his face. He sighs, glances at where your skin meets and gives it a squeeze. “I’ve been an ass lately,” he settles on saying. “Said some mean things and ruined your bathroom rug—I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what to say.

Jungkook takes your silence as understanding, reaching down to hold both your hands in his slightly dirty ones. “It won’t happen again. I’d rather lose a million friends than lose you,” he confesses, and something about it feels too real, too raw. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You nod, the constricting feeling in your throat only tightening when he smiles at you, those gentle eyes and plush lips for only you to see. You want to kiss him, swallow him whole. Right here on the garage floor so everyone knows he’s yours.

But you can’t because he’s not.

You settle on swinging your arms between you. “Just don’t do anything stupid,” you warn him, narrowing your eyes playfully. There’s a heavy feeling in your heart, something akin to anguish, but you could never voice it out loud.

“I won’t,” Jungkook promises.

—

Jungkook visits again on a weekday, and you nearly send him straight home when he brandishes another bottle of wine in your face. “It’s nonalcoholic!” He exclaims before you can shut the door on him, foot lodged against the frame. You give in.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, curling up on the couch in just your shorts and huge t-shirt. Jungkook pops the bottle open, pouring the wine into two limited edition Shrek 2 cups you pulled out from the depths of your cabinet.

“Can’t hang with my bestie?” He throws back at you, snatching the remote from your hands before you can click on another episode of that dumb housewives show. You end up watching National Geographic, some documentary about the role of bioluminescent shrimp in the sea.

“Aw look, they’re kissing,” he cooes at a pair of seahorses that wander across the screen halfway through a shot of some school of shrimp. “How romantic.”

“Wonder what that’s like,” you comment, not thinking too much on the meaning behind your words until you can feel Jungkook’s stare pierce your cranium. “What?”

“You’ve never been kissed?” He blurts, and you choke on your wine.

“You were my first kiss,” you remind him, flush at the memory of the two of you sitting criss-cross applesauce on his bed, knees knocking in what was probably the worst first kiss in the history of first kisses.

Jungkook blinks. “Oh yeah,” he laughs. “With the Tony Hawk poster behind my bed, right?”

“The one and only.”

Jungkook hums, and the two of you melt back into the silence. Nice aquatic sounds fill the room, the camera panning over more colorful fish that Jungkook oohs at appreciatively. You don’t really pay attention, more interested in the way the wine swirls in your cup and the way you can feel Jungkook’s thigh pressed against your knee, like when you were thirteen and trying something new.

You know it doesn’t mean a lot to him. Just another silly childhood memory of you. Not like you have hundreds, thousands of them with each other. By the way he’d blurted the question, you doubt he even remembered it most days. But you did.

It plagued your mind all the time, the soft feel of his mouth and the trembling hand that had held yours. You wonder if he kisses the same still, lips gently puckered. He’s had years to learn, half a decade to get creative with Sojin, and the past four years of being a bachelor to explore more.

You’ve kissed too, plenty of guys who had no meaning and ones you thought would replace him. But it’d been a long time since you’ve let anyone into your bed, more content to please yourself without the overbearing weight of feelings and emotions to wrap around your throat.

Jungkook coughs, and you shake yourself from your thoughts.

He’s looking at you inquisitively, like he can’t get his usual read on you and would rather just ask what’s wrong. “You don’t,” a pause, “hang out with guys?”

It’s devastatingly cute, the way he asks if you’re fucking, and you want to pinch his cheeks. Instead you shake your head, try to hide the grin on your face from his inquisitive expression. “Just you and Taehyung,” you admit.

Jungkook nods. “Do you and Tae…?”

You shake your head furiously. “No! God no, we don’t do anything like that,” you clarify, the thought of Taehyung in your bed enough to make you want to gag.

Jungkook says nothing, just turns back to the documentary to watch more Nemos and Dorys flit across the screen. You polish off your cup of wine, leaning forward to settle it back on the coffee table. As you settle back into the couch cushions, Jungkook speaks again. “So you take care of yourself?”

You freeze.

“Yeah,” you admit after one complete meltdown in your head. Where was this coming from? Why did he want to know? You and Jungkook were close, but you never did this. You never divulged the details of your sex life, never bragged about who you slept with or how many there were. What was going on?

Jungkook doesn’t say anything after that, just turns his attention back to the tv screen, where you’re almost certain the sea horses from before are fucking. Not that you know what it looks like, but you hope at least someone in this room was enjoying themselves and not drowning in the mortification of having their life long crush ask them if they masturbate.

“So, do you use your hands or a toy?”

You choke, slap your chest to ease the pounding of your heart at Jungkook asking such a question. “E-Excuse me?” You ask, scandalized that Jungkook, your sweet and caring childhood friend turned Fabio, could ask you such a bold question about your personal affairs.

“What?” Jungkook says, like he truly doesn’t see the inappropriateness of the situation. He even raises his eyebrows at you, as if urging you to answer the question.

You sigh, fight the flush of your cheeks and stare idly at the cups on the table. “A toy. Hands don’t feel good,” you curtly reply, crossing your arms over your chest and straightening your legs off the couch, hoping that’s the end of his curiosity. This was enough to fuel your 3am anxiety meltdowns for the next five years.

Jungkook nods, and you can feel his penetrating gaze on the side of your face again. A great white shark swims across the screen. Jungkook strikes. “My hands feel good.”

“Jungkook!” You exclaim in horror (and excitement, but you’ll pretend it wasn’t there). “What has gotten into you?”

“What!” Jungkook defends, Bambi eyes looking at you like you’re the unreasonable one here. “We’re having a civil conversation in which I’m trying to open up your worldview.”

You’re flabbergasted. “This is not a civil conversation, what are you even talking about?” You scold, tug your arms around yourself like it’ll actually protect you from the words that don’t seem to be filtering out of his mouth properly. “Why are you so concerned about that?” You interrogate, hope your forceful tone will scare him away.

It doesn’t. Jungkook shrugs, some noncommittal i dont know sound. “I can’t be interested in what you get up to? What my best friend gets up to?” It’s the obvious emphasis on best friend that makes you step down.

“No,” you sigh, rub a hand down your face. “You can be interested,” you tell him gingerly. “We just never really… talked about... those kinds of things,” you rush out, turn away from him as the narrator on screen dives into the intricacies of bioluminescent shrimp in the animal food chain.

As if sensing your discomfort, Jungkook softens, scooting closer to you. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, too close and too warm. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says, places a palm on your knee.

“I’m not!” You rush to assure him, facing him head on again. His eyes are big and implorative still, and you wonder why he became stuck on that of all things today. “It just surprised me.”

His lips quirk to the side, an unsure grin that has you leaning into his shoulder. You sit in silence, the rise and fall of his body with every breath lulling you into a sense of comfort.

A false one that Jungkook zeroes in on.

The documentary’s wrapping up, soothing ocean sounds and wind instruments playing as the credits roll across the screen, when the hand that had been laying so comfortably on your thigh inches up. At first, you don’t notice it, writing it off as Jungkook just shifting around. You tell yourself it’s just that, until his pinky makes contact with the end of your shorts.

Slowly, you turn towards him, catch his mocha irises lustfully lidded as he toys with the hem. “Kook?” You murmur, so soft, barely there.

“Hm?” He replies, continuing to play with the edge of your shorts, until he gets brave and his fingers slip beneath, index finger just barely grazing the panties underneath. You gasp. “This okay?”

Stuck between your arousal and your common sense, you flounder for a response. He’s so close, and smells so good, curls brushing against your temple the closer he gets. You want him so bad, want him to find his place between your thighs and put those pouty lips to use. But you know it’ll make things different, change whatever it is you’ve had for the past almost thirty years, and you’ll never bounce back. Another brush against your panties, pointer finger wiggling it’s way beneath the fabric, and you’re choking out a “yes.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and something in your core tingles at the name, thighs clenching together. “Uh uh,” he chides, nudges them open. “Stay still for me,” he commands, and you do, for all of ten seconds, but then he’s pressing his finger on your clit, panties and shorts muting the sensation. Still, it makes you squirm, fingers clutching the couch cushion beneath you as you struggle to keep them open. “Too much?” He asks, and you shake your head no.

“I-It’s fine,” you whisper, and Jungkook smiles.

He pets you, almost wondrously, for a few beats, watches the way the muscles in your thighs twitch with every press against your mound. Eventually, he decides it’s enough. “Hands don’t feel good for you?” He inquires, your words from earlier obviously having left their mark on him. Slowly, you shake your head. He glances down at the fist you have on the couch, composed features sliding up your face. “Well, yours are so small, princess. Of course they don’t feel good.”

He manhandles you around, tugs you onto the couch until you’re laying down, legs sprawled on either side of him. Pleased with the arrangement, Jungkook glances back down to your bottoms. “These have to go,” he tells you, hooks his fingers in the waistband and abruptly yanks down, leaving you just in your t-shirt.

You go to shy away, but Jungkook stops you, palms resting on the insides of your thighs, thumbs pressing into the skin soothingly. “My fingers are long, see?” He says, raising a hand to wiggle his fingers at you. You nod, heartbeat thundering in your ears. “They’ll feel nice inside.”

You know they will.

You can tell he knows his way around a woman’s body just from the way his hands glide over yours, carefully like he’s mapping you out. Ever so slowly, one hand grows closer, until his thumb is gently circling your clit, and you inhale sharply.

“So wet,” Jungkook hums, his other hand traveling further down, until he’s spreading your pussy lips with two fingers, trailing them through the arousal that gathers there.

You’ve never been so attentively cared for, never had a man zero in on your cunt like it was his first meal in ages. Jungkook’s eyes are clouded with lust, tongue peeking out from between his lips as he watches your pussy lips flutter at his touch.

He swirls his hand over your clit, pressing down. The first sound escapes you, a soft whimper that has you clamping your hand over your mouth in embarrassment. Jungkook grins down at you, shifts closer to press a kiss to the knuckles over your mouth.“Don’t hide from me,” he purrs, pulling away and pressing a kiss to your neck.

You cry out when he gets back to it, massaging your pussy with gentle hands and a thumb against your clit to placate you. “Jungkook,” you choke out, and he beams at his name, takes it as a sign to finally slip two fingers inside. “A-ah,” you whine, arching beneath him.

He basks in your noises, leans close again to press a kiss beneath your ear, against your jaw. “This okay?” He murmurs, curling the fingers inside of you. You mewl, throwing your arms around him as he begins working you open. “How does it feel, baby?”

“G-good,” you pant, turn your head until you can bury your nose in his hair, drown even more in his all-consuming aura.

Another kiss to your neck, before he’s suctioning his lips right below your ear, nipping and sucking at the skin to brand you his. “You like my hands?” He husks, and the patch of saliva he leaves on your neck feels cold without his mouth there. You nod, and Jungkook rewards you with a soft smooch over the hickey he’s left.

His fingers inside you curl and scissor, brush against every inch of your walls until you’re quivering beneath him, gasping his name out. You could melt if his fingers weren’t holding you together. “So tight,” he groans, curling his fingers. The movement touches upon something sensitive within you, and you moan his name loudly.

“O-Oh,” you pant, wiggling beneath him as you try to feel that again. Jungkook lets you, watches you desperately rut into his hands. He drifts away, lets his tongue mouth over your breasts, licking until there’s a damp spot on your t-shirt, the flimsy house bra you’d worn and the t-shirt combined not enough to hide your pebbled nipples.

The drag of his hands against your pussy isn’t enough, the motions not quick enough. Jungkook glances at your twisted features, your quivering pussy, and then, ever so gently, ducks over you, puckered lips letting one, long glob of saliva touch down on your pussy, trickling around his knuckles.

“Fuck,” you choke, watch his tongue swipe over his lip to break the thin bridge that connects you too. Suddenly, everything is smoother, the combined lubrication of your arousal and his spit making the glide of his fingers sinfully slick.

Frantic for release, you lose yourself in him, ready to free fall into your pleasure so long as Jungkook is there to catch you. “That’s it,” he encourages, picks up the pace of his fingers inside you. “Come on, beautiful, let me see that gorgeous face of yours when you come.”

“K-Kook,” you sob, and he smiles against your neck. His fingers work fast, until your muscles are all pulled tight, waiting for that final push to unravel. You make the mistake of glancing down, only to be caught by that pearly smile and adoring gaze. You’re in heaven, you know you are.

There’s no other explanation for this—the way Jungkook holds you like you’re his, hands so gently caressing your most intimate parts. You’re almost convinced you’re having a fever dream, a sick, too realistic dream, but then Jungkook’s biting down on your shoulder through your t-shirt, subtly rutting against your thigh.

“Cum for me,” he purrs against your neck, and you do, sobbing as your orgasm rolls over you, the heavy weight of his cock against your thigh. “Jungkook,” you cry, so pitifully, it has him lunging forward, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth.

You feel sweaty and gross, unbelievably tired from the gentle way he opened you up. Blindly, you reach down, feel the hardness of his cock beneath his sweatpants, but Jungkook nudges you away. You huff. “Let me,” you whimper, reach for him again even though you can see the slowness in your movement. “Need your cock in my mouth,” you drawl, almost sleepily. 

“Shh,” he soothes, lips pressed against your neck, where he’s still licking and sucking over every inch of you. You whine. “You don’t have to do a thing, gorgeous,” he assures you, “just wanted to make you feel good.”

—

Work gets stressful shortly after. There’s a new batch of interns coming in this season, new faces who will mess up your coffee orders and jam the printers for a good few weeks. There’s normally a team of employees who train them, a mix of relatively older people from different departments who show them around; a girl in the finance department, the one who usually trains them, is on maternity leave. With no one else to fall back on, the head of the department pushes the duties off on you, claiming your flexibility and work ethic make you the perfect candidate for such a role.

Normally you’d thrive at the praise, eat up every single word like it sustained you. In a way, it did. It was nice to be appreciated and recognized for your hard work, to be thought of so highly, especially in a male-dominated company. However, this time, you know it’s out of convenience that the head kisses up to you, and you end up begrudgingly taking the role.

The gaps in your schedule you’d normally spend relaxing or catching up on other projects are filled with bumbling interns, calling for help every chance they get. It’s like they’ve never done anything on their own, this group, always asking you the correct way to do this, the right way to do that. You haven’t mentored interns in a while, so you spend the first day breezing over old powerpoints and print outs you made years ago. You remember why you’re not fit for mentoring when one of them asks you how to navigate Excel. You nearly rip their head off.

There’s so much going on, you barely get time to see Jungkook, let alone text him. You saw him once the morning after, stack of pancakes on your kitchen table as he rushed you off to work. The shop didn’t open for another hour. He was sweet, kissed your forehead as you left, but he’s always done that. You didn’t have time to talk about whatever the night before was, or what that made the two of you now.

On Friday night, one week into your nightmarish role, you pull into the shop. You'd like to convince yourself it was routine, visiting the shop, but that’s a lie. You desperately miss Jungkook. 

 Most of the garage doors that are usually pulled open during the day are shut, save for one. The last of Jungkook’s employees are leaving, bidding you adieu as you step out of your car. Park Jimin is there, repairing some rickety car in the back corner.

“Boo,” you call playfully, and Jimin doesn’t flinch, merely pulls his head from out of the hood to flash you an easygoing smile.

He whistles at the sight of you. “You look like you’ve been through one of helluva week,” he says, and you, despite your strong personality, feel yourself blush at his comment. Jeez, did you look that bad? Jimin doesn’t elaborate, just pulls out a stool for you to sit on beside where he’s working. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You glance at the plexiglass, the offices hiding down the hall. Jungkook could wait, you presume, settling down beside him. Your skirt tugs up as you settle onto the pleather seat, so you cover your legs meekly with your purse. “Work’s been crazy,” you explain, and Jimin laughs at the obvious.

“You’re telling me,” He hums, and you roll your eyes playfully. “What’s going on at work?”

What hasn’t been going on, you think to yourself, before launching into a full retelling of your new horrendous position, of all the interns with their clueless eyes and useless notebooks. Jimin chuckles, indulges you in a few comments here and there that only fuel you on. He’s just about done with whatever he’s doing to the car at the same time your story wraps up, explaining how you found yourself here, desperate for Jungkook to whisk you off to that arcade you loved as kids. “Jungkook?” He asks, and you nod. “He left a while ago.”

You freeze. “Huh?” You say, dumbly. You almost want to laugh at your own impulsiveness, for showing up without sending him a text or a warning to let him know you were coming. You almost do laugh, but then you remember you and Jungkook never did that anyway. Hell, he showed up at your house a few weeks ago unannounced and drunk. The two of you were hardly the type to plan ahead, so it was weird for him to not be here. He’s been at the shop almost every night since it’s opened, the days he’s not usually a holiday.

“Jimin…” you begin, glancing at the receptionist window once more. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin shuts his tool box, kicking a cart off to the side. “He left with that lady,” he tells you, doesn’t hear the way your heart rips straight out of your chest. No way. “Tall, pretty. Had that nice Corvette he fixed up a while ago.”

“Sojin,” you mumble, and Jimin nods.

“Think that was her name.” As if sensing your tumultuous thoughts, he steps closer, one hand reaching out to steady you. “You alright?”

“God,” you exhale, pushing yourself away from Jimin and the garage and the window. The stool rolls away, almost hits the side of another car but Jimin catches it. He rushes over towards you, watching you wobble in your heels.

“Honey,” Jimin says, steady and warm beside you. “Sit down for me, yeah?” He guides you to a row of seats against the wall, nailed into the floor so you can’t push them away and make even more of a mess. Not that that’s your concern, your mind and heart too preoccupied with thoughts of Jungkook lying to you, going out with that woman again, despite your obvious hatred for her and his promise to you.

Jimin disappears, rushes over to the other side of the garage before returning with a water bottle for you. He cracks it open, presses it into your hands, and then against your lips when you don’t move. “Drink,” he encourages, watching you with worried eyes that only grow more and more concerned the deeper you fall into your thoughts.

You want to cry and beat Jungkook up at the same time. You want to scream at him for lying to you after treating you so nicely, holding you so warmly. Instead, you gasp for breath, clutching your face in your hands like it’s the only thing that grounds you.

There’s a beep outside, chirpy and cute in the way only older models are, and you whip your head up, the headlights of the Corvette painting you in shades of yellow as it rolls to a stop, the tears you hadn’t felt glistening under the light.

Jungkook flings himself out of the driver’s seat, and a sob catches in your throat when Sojin steps out of the passenger seat. Jungkook shoves everything in his path to the side, carts flying into the few automobiles on the floor, tools clanging loudly onto the cement, and just as those arms you love so much are reaching out for you, there’s a hand on his chest stopping him.

“What did you do to her?” Jungkook snarls, pushing Jimin roughly to the side. Jimin, smaller but not weaker, holds his ground, clutching Jungkook by the material of his jumpsuit a second time. “Let— go!” Jungkook shouts, finally worming away from his employee.

He nearly trips before you, stumbling to his knees as he takes your quivering hands in his. “What’s wrong,” he asks, throwing a nasty glare back at Jimin who watches silently from the side. Sojin is still by her car, leaning across the driver’s side now. “What did he do, what did he say?”

You shake your head, dropping your head to tuck your chin against your chest. You hate this. Hate letting him or Jimin or Sojin see you cry. It’s not the person you are, not the self-made woman you claim to be as you cry over the same man who is unknowingly defending you from himself.

“Let go,” you whisper, hoarse and choked. You shake your arms, but he doesn’t let up.

“Tell me what's wrong,” Jungkook pleads, inching closer to you. His breath is warm and he smells like oil, just like he always does. He also smells sweet and floral in a way only a woman could. He smells like Sojin.

You sob, rip your hands away from and scurry blindly towards Jimin, who catches you in his arms despite the shock that paints his face.

Jungkook watches with an expression of hurt, watches you snuggle into the arms of another man over an issue you won’t tell him about. Jimin says nothing, just rubs his palm over your back. He gestures towards the red corvette, the woman standing by it and Jungkook takes the hint.

You hear the kitten-like purr as it pulls off, the silence that follows afterwards. You don’t know where Jungkook is, if he’s here or if he left with her, and you don’t want to. “Tell me he’s gone,” you beg Jimin, quiet gasps against his neck.

He nods, slowly lets you untangle yourself from his arms as the two of you stare over the empty garage. The Corvette is gone, and so is Jungkook. Before Jimin can tell you where he is, you’re wiping a hand over your face, embarrassed at the moisture it comes back with. 

“I take it he’s not supposed to be with her?” Jimin tries to joke. 

Neither of you laugh. 

You sniffle, process what just happened, how you acted. You’ve never felt that way before, never experienced such brutal heartbreak. 

You don’t know what you expected from Jungkook. In your heart, you convinced yourself what happened in your apartment was the start of something new between the two of you, a natural result of your long friendship. Realistically, you know you should’ve waited until the two of you spoke, discussed whatever happens next. But you’d spent the past week comforted by the fact you’d finally gotten to experience something like that with him, daydreaming about him every chance you got. 

Somewhere in your mind, you had convinced yourself your involvement with him would finally be what broke his connection with Sojin, the final nail that would make him forget about her. It’s painfully funny how such wasn’t the case. 

Jimin breaks you out of your thoughts. “You okay to drive home?” He gently inquires, and you turn your gaze over toward your car. 

Did you trust yourself to make it home without shedding a single tear? Absolutely not. But between Sojin and Jimin, you had let enough strangers see you fall apart over a man tonight. 

“Perfectly okay,” you tell him. 

—

The interns pick up on your sour attitude the week that follows. They don’t ask dumb questions, and don’t mess up your order. You talk them through a presentation, show them how to properly organize finance charts. There’s a slide that has clip art, a goofy dollar sign with a smile and shoes. Jungkook put it there when you first made the PowerPoint. After the little lesson, you go to the bathroom and try not to cry.

A week later, and the interns don’t need you anymore. They do well, and your boss praises you for being such a good mentor. You thank him and he lets you go home early.

Home is empty. Jungkook doesn’t show up unannounced, mostly because you’ve changed the number lock on the door. You want to eat salad today, for some reason, but don’t have any of the ingredients for it, so you walk to the supermarket a few blocks away.

The supermarket feels the same as it always does at night. That ghostly feeling of being watched in an empty aisle, the scratchy tune of whatever Top 50 radio station they settled on today. You get there and decide you don’t want salad anymore, so you buy ingredients for a stew instead, all of which you probably had at home.

When you step outside, the air around your bare thighs is cold. Summer was ending, which meant Jungkook’s birthday was coming up. You ball the receipt in your hand and fling it at the trash. You miss, so you hobble over to pick it up.

The trash is beside a red Corvette with two racing stripes.

“Hey,” Sojin says, arms crossed over her chest as she walks up behind you, sizing up your crouched form beside her car. “What’re you doing to my car?”

You breathe in, shake the crumpled up receipt at her, before stuffing it in the garbage. She says nothing as you stalk by her, and you’re back on the main road when she pulls up next to you, window rolled down to speak to you. “Get in,” she gestures, “it’s gonna rain.”

“No,” you say, and a fat raindrop falls right on your nose.

The door unlocks and you climb in, plastic bags crowded by your feet.

The drive is silent. You only live a few minutes from the store, and you point out an empty spot by the sidewalk for her to pull up to. A dry thanks is on the tip of your tongue, but you never get to say it.

“My dad has cancer,” Sojin says.

“That sucks,” you respond, feel bad right away and say, “I’m sorry.”

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by it, shifting the Corvette out of drive and cutting the engine. “He’s probably not gonna see Christmas,” she adds, and you don’t know what to say. You don’t care about her or her crazy father.  “I wanted to do something nice for him before he, y’know.”

“Died,” you fill, and at that she glares.

“Yeah,” she huffs. “Before he died. So I fixed up his car. But the place I took it to didn’t know how to fix an engine so old, and ended up fucking it up even more.” You nod, she continues. “Then I bumped into Jungkook and—“

“Took advantage of his kindness,” you finish, remembering the twinkle in his eyes when he’d told you about their encounter, that day in the empty garage that seemed lightyears away. “Well congrats. Hope your dad liked it,” you sigh, push open the door and get soaked to the bone immediately.

“Wait!” Sojin calls, hopping out after you. She’s still as beautiful as she was when you were seventeen, even with rain soaking her entire being. “I didn’t ask him to repaint it, but that’s what my dad loved the most.”

You want to go inside, make your stew, and cry in it.

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by the bangs that stick to her forehead or the water that washes down her spine. “When I told him Jungkook did it… he wanted to see him. Apologize and stuff.”

You snort. “Apologize,” you repeat, tightening your grip on your shoppings bags. “For what, Sojin? For almost killing him with this car or for treating him like shit for five years?” She says nothing, stares at the hood of the car like she doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “He was crazy for you, you know that? He would have done anything for you and not once did you stand up to your dad for him. You let that man call him worthless, stupid, a waste of space. And for what? For you to break up with him for some rich asshole who would never treat you half as good as Jungkook did?” You sneer.

The rain feels cold and your groceries feel heavier, so you whirl on your heel and make for your building entrance.

“He never liked me,” Sojin calls out, and you wonder if she even heard the second half of your emotional outburst. You turn to face her with fire in your eyes, and are only a little surprised at the sadness that paints hers. “He never liked me the way he said he did.” You could knock her teeth out.

“You’re stupid,” you spit, and she rounds the car at an insane speed until she’s glaring down at you over her perfectly sculpted nose.

“He never liked me,” Sojin repeats angrily. “He was always busy looking at you—for approval, for attention, I don’t fucking know. He would hold me and touch me but it never felt real. It always felt like practice for him…” she sniffles and your breath hitches in your throat. “We dated all through college,” she says like you don’t know, like you didn’t stress about it for years. “Everyday closer to graduation felt like a ticking bomb. Like he was just waiting for you to come back. To come home.”

You remember it.

The excited texts he’d send you everyday, the plans he made for you. Jungkook was more excited than your parents about you coming home. The five hours had done a number on him, and after four years all he wanted was to have you close again. You remember the hug in his driveway, the way his mom had told you he’d waited all day for you. It’s weird hearing it from Sojin.

Too overwhelmed, you decide to deflect. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you murmur, and you’re surprised she hears it over the pouring rain.

A loud scoff. “You’re stupid,” she repeats back, jabbing a finger at your chest. You glare, and so does she. Like two animals in a cage you size each other up. “You’re stupid and ugly and I hate you,” she spits, and you drop your shopping bags to lunge at her.

You don’t swing, just grab her by the shirt and move to slam her against the wall, but she’s tall and a little strong, bony fingers wrapping around your wrists like spiders. “Why can’t you see how much he likes you?” She screams, like it hurts to admit it. “He’s been in love with you since forever, and all you’ve ever done is run away!”

“I never—“ you gasp, pushing her away from you. Sojin stumbles, but she doesn’t fall. “I’ve never run away,” you defend, heart beating in your chest too fast to be normal. “Some of us have careers and lives we want to live—I don’t want to depend on a man for the rest of my life!”

She growls, tugs at her wet hair like you’re giving her a headache. Stomping up to you once more, she pushes you hard with both hands, and you barely catch yourself in time. “He would have followed you to that fucking fancy school, but you told him it was better to save money here! Told him to not waste his time and just settle there! You did this to us—to all of us!”

You choke. Lightning flashes behind her, and for a moment all you can see is your gentle prodding, sitting behind him as he filled out applications, big wannabe business brain telling him the easiest way to save money for his auto shop was by going straight into technical school. The small frown on his face that day you’d packed for college, and the way he’d stood in your parent’s driveway until you couldn’t see him anymore, a little spec in your rearview mirror.

Sojin, sensing she’s made her point, says nothing. She scoops up your fallen grocery bags and shoves them into your trembling hands, stomping back to her car and pulling off with a roar, loud and ferocious, and nothing like a kitten.

The groceries in your bag end up in the trash.

—

Taehyung invites you to lunch one day, and you go. You’re starving and desperate to get away from work, where you’re paranoid everyone knows there’s something wrong with you. You meet up at a cute little bistro, and he smiles and hugs you when you arrive. You sit in comfort for all of two seconds before he jumps into his interrogation.

“What’s going on with you and Kook?” He asks, casually flipping through the menu. Your hand stills around your glass of water, and you eventually set it down without ever taking a drink. Your mind instinctively maps out a lie, but Taehyung has known you a while now, knows the quirk of your lips when you’re about to lie your ass off. “Don’t lie to me. I haven’t seen you at the shop in almost a month. And he doesn’t go out,” he mentions. “I think he spent four nights at the shop before I made him go home.”

You deflate.

Too embarrassed to explain, you flip through your own menu, and when the waitress comes you order the first words your eyes focus on. Taehyung doesn’t push you, just patiently gazes out over the bustling street.

Finally, you break. “We… did a thing.”

“Uh huh,” he nods, reading some ad on the side of a bus that passes by. “Need you to elaborate, babe.”

You squirm. “We… fooled around,” you say for lack of more appropriate wording. There’s a family sitting beside you, and you’d rather die than let some nooby pre-teen listen to the details of yours and Jungkook’s night.

“You fucked?” You choke, make a loud sputtering noise like it’ll drown out Taehyung’s voice to the other patrons. “What’s wrong with that? We all knew it’d happen sooner or later,” he shrugs.

“No,” you seethe. “We didn—I didn’t.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, the same way Sojin did that day on the sidewalk. You almost throw your glass of water at him. “We…” you sigh. “We did a thing, and then the week after he went out with Sojin.”

Taehyung scowls at the mere mention of her, so the glass of water is returned to its coaster. “Really? He went out with her right away? He’s cancelled.”

You nod, rubbing your hands over your face. “He… her dad has cancer and is literally on his deathbed so she wanted to fix up his car for memories sake, which he loved, so he wanted to apologize to Kook and thank him for fixing up his car,” you rush out, and now Taehyung chokes, water spewing out of his nose. You shriek, drawing everyone’s attention as you pat down your soaked blouse. “Tae!”

“I’m sorry,” he cries, wiping at the sting in his nose. “He-she, what?!” You ignore him, focus on battling the damp spot on your blazer. “God, that’s crazy,” Taehyung snorts, winces at the feeling in his nose.

After the two of you have settled, the manager kicks you out for your inappropriate conversations and childish behavior. You leave with your tails tucked between your legs. Taehyung holds your hand as he walks you back to your workplace, you quietly fill him in on all the other details surrounding yours and Jungkook’s fallout, from your breakdown in the garage to your weirdly dramatic confrontation with Sojin. “Well,” he claps, slamming a hand down on the traffic light button, even though both of you know it doesn’t work. “That explains a lot of things.”

“Yeah,” you agree, pushing down the crosswalk when the light finally changes of its own accord. “Do you,” you pause, feet glued to the sidewalk. “Do you think she was right?”

Taehyung glances back at you, so small and unsure in the midst of a bustling crowd. He smiles, sweet and soft. Rare coming from him. His free hand ruffles the top of your head, and he brings you into his chest. “Babe, the hottest guy in your grade was intimidated by scrawny, pre-muscle bunny Jungkook. I’m pretty sure he feels some type of way towards you.”

Your lip wobbles dangerously, and you bite down on it to stop. Taehyung pats your head, barks at some old guy when he yells at the two of you for standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

When you’re outside your office, you speak again. “You were not the hottest guy in our grade, by the way.”

Taehyung snorts. “I totally was.”

—

You hideout for the rest of the week.

On Friday night, you finally have the balls to show yourself again, and you hop on the highway leading out of the city before you can overthink it. The buildings slowly melt away, replaced with cozier homes, tinier shops, and by the time you’re pulling up the street, you’re deep in doubt again.

It’s not that late yet, only a little past sunset, but the garage doors, usually open to the street, are all shut. You frown, pull around the block, reverse into a spot across the street. Locking your car, a gust of wind nearly trips you as you cross the street. The front office is dark, metal shutters pulled over the entrance.

Eventually, you stumble around until you find the tiny backdoor squeezed beside some dumpsters, grateful for the key Jungkook had given you so long ago.

Just as Taehyung predicted, a pair of red jumpsuit clad feet stick out from beneath a car. A nice car, an even older Corvette than Sojin’s dad’s, still shiny despite the model it is. It looks like a show car with the way it glints at you, black paint almost glossy. The only light in the entire garage is a lamp, positioned over the area where the legs are working, and a flashlight that occasionally beams at you when the holder loses his grip. No music today, just the hum of a rotating fan. You creep over.

Jungkook’s humming a song when you get to him, foot tapping idly on the ground. You suck in a deep breath and nudge his foot with the tip of your heel. You have exactly two seconds to jump away when he abruptly rolls out from beneath the car, concentrated features scanning quickly around until they land on you.

The garage is still, until Jungkook jumps into action. “___,” he stammers, stumbling to his feet. The rolling board drifts away, bumping into the corner of the metal table beside you. “Hi, um,” he flounders, brushing his fingers through his hair, palms wiping over the front of his pants. Finally, “hi.”

The bad bitch Chanel skirt-suit you’d worn today fails you for the first time in a long time. Your hands feel sweaty, so you clutch them behind your back. “Hi, Jungkook,” you exhale, and all the emotions you’d swallowed for so long, the feelings that tightened around your chest and throat like boa constrictors, come oozing out, until all you can see is his puckered mouth and twinkling gaze.

He coughs, tries to casually lean against the car, but greatly miscalculates the distance. “What, um, what brings you here?” He asks, foot tapping nervously against the ground.

There’s a box of takeout on the floor he tries to subtly kick beneath the car, and a plastic bottle of soda that makes a loud noise when he tries that too. You twist your lips, watching the anxious shuffling of his feet. You breeze over his question, plaster a tight smile into your face, and ask your own question; “how long have you been here?” Tentatively, you lower yourself onto a rolling stool. “It’s late,” you state the obvious.

Jungkook’s leg bounces, and he pats his hand over it nervously. “Um, an hour? Just working on something,” he answers, cheeks warm as his eyes flicker everywhere but you. “What brings you here?” He repeats, and you know you can’t deflect it this time.

Shrugging half heartedly, you wait for him to finally look at you. When he does, he almost looks away but the glint in your eye stops him from doing so. “We need to talk,” you finally say. Jungkook visibly deflates, lips pulling into a thin line. You contemplate letting him relieve his thoughts first, but you came here with a point to make, for questions that needed answering, and you’re scared one word from him will wash them all away.

“Listen,” you start, smoothing your hand over the edge of your skirt. “I know something weird happened between us, and then I kinda freaked out on you, but… I need you to tell me the truth.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. “Always.”

You swallow, try to push back the frustration that builds in his throat. “Did you ever even like Sojin?”

Jungkook blinks. “Huh?” A snort. “You’re joking,” he snickers, wipes at faux tears in the corner of his eyes, before your unsmiling face registers and he’s schooling his features. “___, I did like her. I dated her for five years. How could I not like her?”He says seriously, like he can’t believe you would ever question such a thing. 

You exhale, pick at your fingernails. “I met her,” you admit, and Jungkook’s face twists in confusion. “At the supermarket last week. She said you never liked her.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Of course she’ll think that—we’re exes. I doubt she remembers all our best memories,” he sighs, turning back to organize his tool cart like he’s done with this conversation.

Raising to your feet you call his name again, and he hums absentmindedly. “Sojin said you never liked her because you were always chasing after me,” you accuse, laying all your cards out on the table. Your claim startles him, and you watch as he jostles half the tool cart with his surprise.

“She, what?” He huffs, cheeks as red as his jumpsuit. He forces out a laugh, airy and tight like you’re starring in your elementary school play again and the nerves are eating him up. “I-I don’t know why she’d say that.”

He’s flustered, obviously so, as he scoops the metal tools back onto the cart, bumping into three other things before settling back down on the floor to roll under the car. He pushes himself under, and you sternly call out, “Jungkook.” He freezes.

You strut over, brush your hands behind your skirt as you crouch beside him. “Always,” you quietly remind him. Jungkook says nothing. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve grossly misread the situation, if this was just another one of her schemes to drive the two of you apart.

Slowly, Jungkook appears from under the car. There’s a new stain on his cheekbone, brown and slick. He sits up, wide eyes tracing over your features likes he’s trying to seal them in his memory. “Yeah,” he admits, lips twisting as he watches the surprise take your features, before he’s lolling his head back to stare at the ceiling, leaving you to stare at the column of his neck.

“I do,” Jungkook admits, pushing through his emotions. It’s hard for him to confess, you realize, watching the way his Adam’s apples contracts and his jaw twitches from having to say so. “I like you so much it hurts.”

His confession leaves you feeling weird. On one hand, you want nothing more than to spring yourself on him and kiss his face until the stray oil marks are gone and replaced with the outline of your lipstick prints. You want to smother him and hold him, let him know he’s yours, always has been.

On the other hand… it’s sad. Going on thirty years and never did the two of you guess your feelings for each other. You doubt either of you are good at hiding them, with the way everyone seems to have known except you two. Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you.

A hand touches your knee, and you return your attention to his downtrodden appearance, chin tucked against his chest. “Please,” he murmurs. “Say something.”

You say nothing.

Tentatively, you reach a hand out, run it along the side of his head, through his mane, chocolate waves touching his cheekbones. He almost looks like when you guys were kids, round eyes watching your every move. Your hand continues down the back of his head, cupping the nape of his neck comfortingly. Jungkook leans into the touch, even though his shoulders are tense. You soothe your fingers over the tight muscles in his neck.

“Since when?” You inquire.

Jungkook blinks, lets your palm trace along his jawline and cup his cheek. “Since you dated Taehyung when we were sixteen.”

Mentally, you curse every deity in existence for putting Kim Taehyung in your life. “God,” you groan, burrowing your hands in your palms. Jungkook, surprised by your reaction, rolls closer, moves around until you’re crouched between his long legs. “Since me and that pinhead dated for twenty minutes?” You repeat.

Jungkook shifts closer, rubs your back. “It was 65 hours, actually,” he corrects, and the exact duration of your relationship makes you cringe. “I… counted.”

Small and shy, almost embarrassed. You glance back up at him. “Why?” You prod, and Jungkook’s cheek flush, palm stilling.

“Uh,” he starts. “I was nervous? That you two were in it for the long run. And I, I don’t know. It was easier to just count,” he lamely finishes, and his dangly earring whips around with him when he avidly avoids your gaze.

You sigh, catch his hand in yours. “Tae and I would have never lasted,” you tell him, remembering all the times the guy made you pick him up from one night stands in the last few years. “He wasn’t who I wanted.”

His foot jumps, toe tapping against the wheel of the car next to you. He wants to ask, you know he does, but Jungkook was quite possibly the only other person on this planet who could overthink something more than you.

Deciding to ease his worries, you give his hand a squeeze. “It was you,” you confess, feel like an elephant lands straight on your chest. “It is you,” you correct.

His forehead knocks against yours, hard, and you hiss at the bump that probably forms. “What the fu—“

“Tell me it’s not temporary,” Jungkook pleads, eyes crinkled in worry. You’re going cross eyed from trying to look at him like this, so you flit your eyes off somewhere to the side. His hand is heavy in yours. “Tell me you’re not just doing this for closure, or because you want to see what it would have been like, please,” he begs, “that would be so fucked up, because I’m so in love with you I actually think I might die.”

The dramatic confession makes you painfully warm. You nod, your lower lip trembling at the way he looks at you, like you single-handedly controlled this entire world with a flick of your wrist. “I-I love you too,” you parrot back, the first time you’ve ever said it, the millionth time you’ve ever thought it.

Jungkook visibly relaxes, pulls away from you to drop his head on your shoulder instead. Your legs are starting to cramp from the tight crouching position, ankles wobbly in your heels. His hair smells good still, despite the hours he’s probably spent beneath a car, and you gingerly pat the back of his head.

“I love you,” he murmurs, and you repeat it. “I love you,” he says again, and you repeat it. “I lov—“

“Me, yes, I’ve heard,” you cut him off, smile at the snort he releases, and when he turns his head, his lips brush against your neck. You’re instantly thrown back a few weeks, to that night on the couch with the limited edition Shrek 2 cups and the wine; the gentle touches that left you trembling for weeks. You inhale quickly, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him away.

His eyes are too soft, face too relaxed as he stares at you. “My legs hurt,” you tell him, quickly getting up. You whirl around, facing the car and digging through your purse like you suddenly have something to do.

“Oh,” you gasp, watch two arms wind around your waist, the dirty red jumpsuit contrasting against the tweed material of your high-end Chanel jacket. Jungkook sighs lovingly by your ear, snuggles his face into your neck. “W-we should go out,” you blurt, nerves jumping when he squeezes tighter, burrows closer. “To celebrate!”

Jungkook hums. “Yeah?” His voice is too low. You’re in trouble. “Celebrate what?”

You squirm, breath catching in your throat when he presses you closer against the hood of the car. “Um,” you shakily exhale, hands splaying out over the sleek surface of the black hood to steady yourself. It’s so shiny you can almost see your reflection. “U-Us!” You finally manage to exclaim.

A kiss against the side of your neck, and your spirit just about exits your body. Your knees feel weak, and you're just about ready to throw another mediocre excuse his way, when something warm and wet traces up the column of your neck. “Kook!” You gasp.

“Shh,” he murmurs, deep voice instantly soothing over your nerves. His hips nudge against your behind, and you jump at the bulge that presses against your lower back. One hand unwraps from around you, gliding down your arm sensually until he’s trapping your fingers on the hood of the car with his own. A swift kiss against your ear. “You owe me, remember?”

You flush, remember the filthy promises your list-addled brain has spewed that night at your house, the almost erratic development of your thoughts as you became consumed in the thought of him. Reminisce on the prod of his fingers against your cunt, his hot breath against your ear.

Suddenly, Jungkook whirls you around, traps you with his gaze as two hands flutter to rest on the small of your back. He’s looking down at you with those lovesick eyes, hooded with lust as they trace over the dip of your Cupid’s bow. “You’ll do that for me, won’t you?” A soft brush of his mouth against yours, pouty lips guiding you through a kiss, until you’re sighing against him, and he’s pulling away.

Numbly, you nod, almost hypnotized by the soft smirk that overtakes his features as he pushes you down, watches you sink to your knees before him. The concrete feels cold and hard beneath your knees. His jumpsuit is knotted around his waist, and you shakily unravel it, the elastic waistband staring you in the face afterwards.

“Take your time,” Jungkook croons, hand coming to rest on the side of your face, knuckles brushing over your skin delicately.

You tug it down, and one flash of that underwear band has your nerves flying out the window. You shove his t-shirt out of the way, let your hands trail over the ridges of his abdomen in your haste. He helps you by tugging it over his head. With that gone, his black boxers stare you in the face, and you yank those down with no hesitation.

“Jesus, baby,” Jungkook chuckles, though it’s choked off when you grasp his engorged cock in his hand. You should be surprised, marveling at the sight, considering it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him like this. But you brain is working overtime, too immersed in the vein that runs alongside it and the tip that throbs back at you. Later you can worship it, you think. Right now, you needed it down your throat.

The tip is flaming and swollen, his cock still growing plump in your hold, your hands slowly dragging up and down the length. You lean forward, press a gentle kiss below the mushroom head, trail kisses down the length until you're meeting your knuckles, and trail them back again. Jungkook sucks in a tight breath, leans to rest his palms on the car behind you, as he watches you on him.

A head of precum escapes, and you lunge for it, swirl your tongue in and around the slit on his cock, until his entire body tenses up. “Fuck,” he grunts, watches you ease his cock into your mouth. You groan at the stretch, the drag against the corners of your lips making your eyes roll backwards. “___, baby, a little more?” He asks, voice hoarse as he watches you sink down further on his cock.

You comply, close your eyes and focus on relaxing your throat. There’s a hand on the back of your head, impatiently pushing you down his length. “Shit,” he cries, unconsciously ruts against you. You gag, and he shushes you with a caress against your cheek. “Sorry,” he huffs, “just a little more for me, okay?”

Eyes squeezed shut tightly, you let him push you down until his cock hits the back of your throat and you can’t take anymore. The prod against your throat has tears springing to your eyes. “Gonna move now,” Jungkook announces, thumb brushing away the tears that collect in the corners. “Be good.”

He drags himself out, your saliva coating every inch of him, and when just the tip is resting on your tongue, he shoves back in. You whimper, palms digging into his thighs. Jungkook brushes a hand down your hair, soothes you for all of two seconds before he’s pulling out and doing it all over again. He picks up the pace, loses himself in the feeling of your hot mouth around him, tongue dragging over his cock.

The feeling in your throat burns, each thrust of his hips against your mouth making your jaw more and more sore. But god, it feels good to have him so close, his scent swarming your sense, groans like music to your ears. You want to please him, want him to feel as good as you did at your place. You want it even more now that you know how he feels, know he’s probably thought about this before.

A brutal thrust has you gagging, throat contracting around his length. “Shh,” Jungkook sighs, the fingers buried in your hair flattening out to run over your head. “Doing so good for me, beautiful.”

You bask in the praise, let a hand flutter down to the apex of your thighs, pressing down to relieve some of the pressure. Jungkook groans, rolls his hips against you and keeps you there for a second. Your throat spasms, his dick pressed hotly against it, and you feel your panties grow embarrassingly sticky. Eventually, he draws back out.

“You like this?” He hums, rutting against you faster now, nose brushing against the sparse hairs on his pelvis with every slam of his hips. You nod around a gag, eyes clouding with tears, lips slippery with saliva and precum. One particular thrust is so hard, it nearly sends you knocking back into the car, Jungkook’s hand on the back of your head barely saving you. “Fucking hell,” he spits, “look so pretty with my cock shoved down your throat, princess.”

You moan around him, feel a subtle twitch against your tongue before he’s pulling himself out. “Shit,” he cursed, pushing you away as he goes to grab his own dick in his hand, tugging at it like a madman. “Wh-Where?” He asks, and you stare dumbly at the sight of him playing with himself, almost don’t realize he’s asking you a question.

You take too long, scramble for words too long, and even if you did have one your throat is far too sensitive yo answer. Jungkook grows impatient. Pulling you closer by the collar of your Chanel suit jacket, tugging it open until the flimsy buttons snap, and the tank top you wore beneath comes into view. He aims the tip of his cock towards your sternum, and a few jacks later, he’s coming, cum spurting against your chest. You watch the cum trail down between the valley of your breasts, until the feeling comes to rest against the inside wire of your bra, sticky and gross, sliding along the underside of your boobs. “Shit,” Jungkook repeats, eyes furrowed over you.

Your knees ache, and you nearly trip when you stand up, steadying yourself against the side of the car. Jungkook seems to regain his sense by then, hand trailing around your waist. You meet his eye, and almost immediately turn away, the blood in your face rapidly rising.

Jungkook laughs. “Don’t get shy on me now,” he teases, gets too close and your noses bump. “Sorry,” he smiles, too shiny and bright for the sinful acts you just committed in an auto shop.

“Put your dick away,” you huff, let him nuzzle closer to you, and when he doesn’t move to tuck himself into his pants, you go do it for him.

Jungkook frowns, swats your hand away. “This dick has places to be,” he informs you, and you scoff.

“Refractory period,” you remind him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Well I’m not exactly gonna stick it in you this instant,” he drawls. “Gotta stretch you out first.”

You go to complain, tell him he doesn’t have to over exert himself. Truthfully, with Jungkook you feel like one good session was enough to sustain you for weeks. After last time, your skin had flowed for an entire week. But then his hand is slithering up your backside, sneaking under your skirt to grab a handful of your ass.

There’s quickly drying drool collecting at the corners of your mouth, saliva from when he’d fucked your throat just a few moments prior, that he kisses away. His mouth slots over yours, and your heart and pussy both flutter at the kiss.

It’s gentle and sweet for all of ten seconds, his mouth moving against yours until you feel the wet press of his tongue against your bottom lip, tracing along until you open your mouth. He wastes no time shoving his tongue past your lips, letting it dance with yours as he pulls you closer, hands gripping the globes of your ass. You let him lick his way into your mouth, more and more saliva catching in the corners of your mouth until he’s pulling away with a wet pop.

He pulls away, doesn’t stray too far, proud smirk crossing his features at the sight of your slicked lips. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Huh?” You ask dumbly, tongue mindlessly swiping over your lips.

Jungkook’s eyes track the movement. “The saliva,” he clarifies. “The spit. You liked it at your place too,” he reminisces, moving in on you again. “Liked watching me slobber and spit all over your body. Isn’t that right, baby?”

You blush, discreetly rub your thighs together. “I-I do,” you admit, willing the warmth of your face away because at this distance he must certainly feel it.

Jungkook nods, doesn’t say anything else as he captures your lips a second time. He doesn’t bother with the gentle prodding anymore, jumping straight into tongue right away. He’s messier, letting his saliva coat your lips and drip down your mouth, and as messy as it is, you love it. You whimper when he pulls away, but gasp when his hand tugs at the hair by the nape of your neck, pulling you back until you’re looking up at him.

“Open,” he murmurs, and you do, tongue pressing against your bottom lip.

It should be disgusting, the rev of his throat, the sound of his saliva collecting, and the way his jaw shifts when he’s got enough. It should be filthy, the way he shoots it down your open lips, the way it splatters against the back of your throat. It should be gross, but god do you love it. “Swallow,” Jungkook commands, and you do, feel his spit drip down your throat like it’s your own, whimpering at the feeling. A quirk of his lips. “Good girl.”

You have to bite down the pride that grows in your chest.

Jungkook’s hands continue their mapping out of your behind, eventually ending with a hard squeeze that has you squealing. Automatically, your back arches in surprise, breasts pressing against Jungkook’s chest. He smirks down at you.

“Bet you taste good,” he says, pressing a kiss against your cheek. “Let me taste?”

“Please,” you beg, nearly losing your shit when he lifts you up onto the car, the cool metal making you jump, heel on your foot nearly kicking the side view mirror clean off. “Wait, Jungkook,” you sputter, glancing down at the sleek metal. “This is someone’s car.”

Jungkook ignores you, pushes your legs apart to slot himself between them. His palms run up your legs, over your thighs, until they’re toying with the hem of your skirt. Mocha eyes glance up at you, as if daring you to question him again, so you promptly zip your lips shut. The skirt goes, ever so slowly, over your thighs, bunches up at your waist until he’s staring at your lace panties.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh, nose faintly brushing against your skin. The kisses trail over your skin, until he’s hovering over your panties, and he’s staring like a man starved. He gives no warning, suddenly leaning down to press his mouth over your party-clad folds, nose flush against your clit. “Kook!” You squeak, hands flying to clutch at his hair.

Jungkook mouths at you, drags his tongue against your panties until they’re soaked in both your essence and his saliva, just how you like. A hand slithers around your leg, wrapping around until he’s got a firm grip on it that he uses to hold it open.

“J-Just take them off,” you gasp, squirm when his mouth moves towards your clit, lapping against you. “Please,” you cry.

He doesn’t.

Jungkook tortures you with those kitten licks, muted through your panties, until you’re begging him to stop, to take them off and do it right. He loves it, you can tell, dazzling smile peeking up at you every time you tug against his hair, until finally, he’s had enough.

The underwear comes off, dangling uselessly by your ankle, and then the show really begins.

“Wait,” you choke, head falling back against the hood of the car when he finally gets his mouth on you, suctioning his lips around your swollen clit. The niggling reminder that this is some stranger’s car he’s eating you out on rings in your brain, and perhaps that’s what makes it more exciting.

His mouth is warm, tongue flicking over your sensitive bud like it’s candy and he needs the sugar. The sounds are so loud and wet, the squelching of your pussy every time he pulls off a pop that resounds throughout the garage. He pampers your clit for what seems like hours, switching the movements of his tongue every time he gets the chance until you’re quivering.

When you think he’s done, he’s not.

Fingers slide up your thigh, featherlight, as they reach your drenched cunt. They drag over your lips, and you mewl, feeling the muscles jump and tighten at his touches. “Jungkook, please,” you moan, rolling your hips against him, but it’s hard and everytime you move, you feel the sweat on your skin weigh you down, glued to the metal beneath you.

The first finger breaches you, just the tip of his index slowly wiggling inside. You muffle a moan in your palm, and Jungkook pulls away with a huff. “No hiding,” he warns, slowly lowering back to your cunt with a stern glare. You nod, but can’t help it when his second finger pushes its way in and you bite down on your knuckles.

“Oh,” You sob, body quivering as he begins scissoring his two fingers inside you. With your attention focused on the digits sheathed inside you, he pulls away from your clit, bestowing one final kiss against it that has your foot kicking out wildly. “Th-there.” His other hand catches your palm in his, presses it against the metal by your head.

Jungkook smiles, curls his fingers around until he finds the soft spot inside you that turns you to jelly. “There we go, beautiful,” he purrs, pushing himself to his full height, leaning over your trembling form. “So sweet for me,” he sighs, licks his lips like he’s remembering your taste.

“I'm gonna,” you choke, become hypnotized by the dark cloud in his gaze, the arrogant smirk on his lips. He curls his fingers, palm brushing against your abandoned clit. The touch makes you jump, nerves tingling.

“Cum for me,” he encourages, silky tone swarming your head as your pleasure slowly washes over you. It’s probably the most relaxed orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, his low voice and delighted eyes guiding you through it, until your entire body clenches, dissolving in a puddle of contentment. Your arousal surges around his fingers, trickling down onto the metal.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you pant, overwhelmed from the touches and the kisses. Jungkook’s smile gets swallowed by your greedy mouth, desperate for more kisses now that he’s made you feel like this.

The kisses only placate him for so long, and when he presses his body against yours, there’s an awfully hard cock that slides against your dripping cunt. “Think you can go again, gorgeous?” He murmurs against your jaw, nipping at the skin on the way down. You nod, eyes falling shut at the warmth you feel in your bones.

Jungkook kisses your neck one last time, before leaning back once more to line himself up.

This was a scene straight from your teenage fantasies, a dripping, shirtless Jungkook at full mast between your thighs, looking at you so lovingly. It makes your heart thunder, imagining how long you could have been doing this if you weren’t both so stupid. As if reading your thoughts, Jungkook rubs a palm over your thigh, eyebrow quirked. You nod his concern away, squirm closer until the tip of his cock nudges against your hole.

“Fuck,” Jungkook sighs, moving his hands to your hips as he slowly pushes in. His fingers, bless their intentions, could have never prepared you for the size of Jungkook’s cock, thick and veiny as it pushes inside. You whimper, clawing at the hands on your waist that stop you from impaling yourself on it fully. “Waited so long for this.”

“Then fucking do it,” you beg, nearly pass out when he shoves in harshly at your tone. “J-Jung—“

“I got you, baby,” he assures you, jostles you until you’re flush against his cock, clit brushing against his pelvis. Your back arches, and Jungkook slips his arm around you, the other lingering on your waist.

Every subtle shift has him brushing along your swollen clit, and you sob at the sensation, begging him to move. He complies, changes his stance to make it easier, and finally begins thrusting into your throbbing pussy.

“So good,” he huffs, eyes zeroed in on where the two of you meet. You would have looked too, if your body hadn’t felt so completely boneless beneath him, the grinding of his cock sending shocks of pleasure up your spine. “So pretty and mine.”

“Yours,” you choke, heart swelling in your chest at his words. It’s almost animalistic, the way he ducks down to bite at your neck, like some animal staking its claim, and you like it. You like it because it’s all you ever dreamed of for so long. “Faster, Kook,” you urge, wrapping your arms around him.

He does as you say, slow and careful thrusts transitioning into a fast piston that would have had you bouncing out of his reach if he wasn’t holding you so tightly. “Fuck,” he chokes, lost in the way you clench around him, lips dragging against his cock with each thrust. “Baby,” he grunts, sweat trailing down his temple, eyes furrowed shut. Eventually, his head falls into the crook of your neck, his weight pressing down on you uncomfortably, subtle ridges on the hood making you ache. At this point, you’re too far gone to care. “All I ever wanted,” he gasps.

You could cry, right now and he’d pull out right away, big heart fretting over your emotional well-being. Which is exactly why you hold your emotions in, let yourself get fully immersed in the feeling of Jungkook pounding you against some stranger’s car and not the inevitable emotional crash you’ll have later.

He fucks like he’s waited all his life for this, and you guess he sort of has if what he’s saying is true. You have no doubt it is, and when his lips suck a mark against your neck, you feel like you’re in heaven. “Almost,” you pant, legs wrapping around his waist tightly. Jungkook nods, his hair tickling your jaw and neck, as he picks up the pace. Your cunt swallows him up every single time, suctions him in until he’s shaking, and so are you.

It can only last for so long, your heart and body eventually reaching their peak, and you unravel. His arms are there to catch you, to pick up the pieces and hold you together. You want to cry, you really do, and when the coil in your stomach snaps, you finally do. “I love you,” you sob, and Jungkook shudders, glances at your tear-struck face to push himself off.

“Love you too,” he mumbles, grinds his cock against your spasming folds one last time, and comes mid-thrust, cum spurting inside you. He holds you, just like you knew he would, as you come down from your highs, hot breath fanning across your skin.

You feel warm, loved, and in love, body trembling in sensitivity afterwards. He’s pulled out since, soothingly rubbing a hand against your side. You’d like to say you wouldn’t be anywhere else, but one shift reminds you of where you are.

“Shit,” you groan, taking in your surroundings before letting your head fall back against the hood. Jungkook hums, round eyes looking your way. “We really just confessed and had sex on some stranger’s car.”

Jungkook snorts, leans away just the slightest to look you in the eye. He’s lost in thought, chocolate irises swirling as they drink you in. “Say thanks to Taehyung,” he finally says.

You roll your eyes, and when you shift beneath him, your sweaty skin sticks uncomfortably against the metal hood. “Yeah, let me thank Taehyung for dating me for three days and awakening your crush,” you huff sarcastically, resigning yourself to your new life stuck against the hood of some classic automobile from the 50s. Jungkook laughs, tucks himself back into his underwear. “Thanks Taehyung, for your noble sacrifice ten years ago that allowed me to fuck Jungkook on some stranger’s car—“

Jungkook hums, snuggles closer to you. “Tae’s car.”

“—after confessing our—Taehyung’s car?” You shriek, sitting up with the strength of three football players, Jungkook toppling off you. “Oh my god. No.” Jungkook rubs his elbow where he knocked it against the hood, looks at you with solemn eyes. Slowly, a smirk crawls over his features. “No,” you gasp, mortification crawling up your spine. “We didn’t.”

He tugs you off the car, tugs your skirt down when you wobble on unsteady heels. “Yup,” he says, pops the end of the word like a child. “Say hello to Taehyung’s new car!” He exclaims, patting the hood you just defiled. “Straight from the car auction he went to this morning,” he beams.

“Oh my god,” you groan, covering your face with your hands when you finally spot the puddles of... something on the black hood. “This is terrible.”

Jungkook ignores you, wipes up the mess with some napkins from his takeout bag, but there’s already some that's dried, only fueling your mortification. “Not like he’ll find out,” he shrugs, then narrows his eyes at you. “Or will he?”

“No!” You stutter, carefully rounding the car as if inspecting it for any more signs of the treacherous things you and Jungkook did on or around it. “I-I won’t tell him.”

“Uh huh,” Jungkook teases, settles on that rolling stool and pushes himself towards you. There’s a hand easing itself around your waist, tugging you between open legs. Still in shock, your hands flutter around his neck, muscle memory causing you to immediately begin massaging the skin there.

Jungkook sighs into the touch, eyes falling shut. “Too bad Jimin’s not here,” he sighs, and you visibly see his nose grow in arrogance. 

“What? Why should Jimin be here?” You ask, pushing your fingers against the knots in his neck. 

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed, one-eyed glare. He scoffs, “maybe you are as dumb ad Taehyung says.” And then, “hey!” when you tug his ear. He isn’t upset, just tugs you closer until his face is buried against your stomach. “You know country folk like him marry on the spot right?”

“What are you even saying,” you huff, burying your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging his head back to properly look at him. “Why do you care who Jimin marries?” He doesn’t bother answering. 

Instead, Jungkook sighs into the touch, an easygoing smile thrown your way, and for a moment you forget about the trauma Taehyung will have when he inevitably learns about this. “This is the life.”

[doubleleoenergy]

i. Summer Bummer, Lolita Series

She just might become my lover for real. I might fuck with her all summer for real. They better not holla if I cuff her for real.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: bestfriendsdad!Andy Barber x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, mentions of erection, lewd thoughts, drinking

Words: 2168

Summary: Andy meets Jacob friends for the first time, including y/n.

“Dad, we’re here!” Jacob cried out, opening the front door to his familiar family home. 

Jacob Barber had just finished his Junior year at Columbia University and had just finished packing up his things in his apartment before driving back home. His parents had just finalized their divorce over the Christmas Break, and frankly, Jacob was relieved. His father, Andy Barber, seemed to be doing great, much happier without Laurie in his life. Maybe that was why he had agreed to let Jacob and his roommates from Columbia stay in their home for the entire summer leading up to their final year of undergrad.

“I’ll be right down, just changing a lightbulb in the bathroom.” Andy called out from upstairs, finishing his work quickly and disposing of the broken bulb in the bathroom trash can. He took his time down the stairs, smiling widely as he saw Jacob and his friends standing in the kitchen. “Good to have you home, son.” Andy announced, embracing Jacob in a warm embrace. He wasn’t lying at all, yes, he was fine after the divorce, but he did miss having his son at home playing video games or listening to his music too loud. Once Andy let go, he eyed the two other boys behind him, patting Jacob on his shoulder. 

“You boys must be Jacob’s roommates, right?” He questioned. 

“Yes, sorry dad, this is Rashad and Collin.” Jacob motioned to each of them, watching as his father shook each of their hands. “It’s nice to meet you all, and please, call me Andy. Only my clients call me Mr. Barber.” Andy took a step back, reaching into the fridge to grab a few Coors Light bottles, handing one to each of the boys before turning his attention back to Jacob.

“I thought you said there was another roommate coming, right? The one who you begged me to let intern at my office during the summer?” Andy asked, raising an eyebrow at his son.

Jacob took a swig off his beer bottle, nodding his head. “Yeah, y/n said she’d be here soon, she was just finishing up with a friend for brunch and then she was heading over.” Jacob, Rashad, Collin, and Y/N had been roommates this year in a quaint little apartment about five minutes from Columbia’s main campus. Andy had been to the apartment once to meet up with Jacob for dinner in the Fall during one of his many fights with Laurie, though Jacob’s roommates had all been out that day.

“Alright, well why don’t you boys make yourselves at home, take your pick of any of the guest rooms upstairs and let me know if you need anything. I was thinking of firing up the grill, it’s such a beautiful day out and the swimming pool contractors just finished with the new pool out back.” Andy opens the doors of the fridge again, pulling out the hamburger meat as the three men race up the stairs to look at the rooms they’d be occupying for the next few months. “Sure dad, thanks!” Jacob calls back, giving his father a short wave of his hand.

About an hour later the boys had all settled into the Barber’s backyard, speakers against the home blaring the hottest songs of the summer. Andy and the boys stood around the grill, exchanging stories of their latest semester and giving Andy a chance to get to know Rashad and Collin better. He was quite impressed with the type of people Jacob had chosen to associate himself with. Rashad was an engineering major like Jacob while Collin was studying chemistry.

After the boys finished laughing about Collin and Jacob’s double date gone terribly wrong, Jacob’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen with a smile. “Y/N’s pulling in, I’m going to go help her with her bags.” The other boys stayed next to Andy, watching as he flipped the last set of burgers on the grill.

“She’s gotta look heavenly in a bikini, right bro?” Rashad asks Collin, nudging him playfully in the side.

“You got a thing for y/n? Because I don’t think it’d be too appropriate to get with someone you are living the entire summer with, especially under my roof.” Andy objected, removing the burgers off the grill and onto the plate beside him.

Both Rashad and Collin burst out laughing, taking swigs from their beer bottles as they do. “Nah, Andy. Y/N’s a smoke show don’t get me wrong, but we can look but don’t touch. She’s not a relationship type of woman anyhow.” Rashad teased.

Just as the two boys finished their snickering, Jacob opens the screen door, the two immediately jogging up to give y/n a hug. 

“What, you boys miss me that much after being apart for only a day?” She teased, Collin finally releasing her from his death grip. Jacob pulls y/n out into the yard, stopping right in front of the grill where Andy was turning off the burners.

“Dad, this is y/n.” He gestures towards the woman beside him just as y/n sticks out a hand for Andy to shake.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Barber, I’ve heard so much about you.” Andy finally turns his head in the direction of her voice, his eyes locking on hers as his heart skips a beat in his chest.

“It’s nice to meet you too, and please, call me Andy.” He reaches forward to shake her hand, taking in the whole sight of her. Her hair hung in loosely tousled waves down her back, stopping just above her breasts that were jutting out of her black lace bodysuit, which clung tightly to her hourglass figure and was tucked into her jean shorts that barely seemed to cover her ass. Her lips were plump and juicy, the color of a glass of fruit punch, a dotting of light freckles across her cheeks. Her eyes were striking, she wore no mascara, yet her lashes were thick and long. She was breathtakingly beautiful, a ‘smoke show’ as Rashad had said, indeed. 

Y/N watched how Andy’s eyes engulfed her body, tilting her head to one side as she pretended not to notice. “Well Andy, thank you again for letting us all stay with you this summer, and thank you for the internship. I would rather work a paid internship than work with these boys anywhere.” She teased, ruffling Jacob’s hair.

“It’s no trouble at all, our office could use a good intern for the summer.” He agreed, eyes lingering a little too long on her perky breasts again.

“Maybe we can carpool to work, I’m all about environmentalism.” Her words are flirtatiously drifting off her tongue, a seductive smile spreading across her lips. Was Andy imagining this?

“R-right, yeah sounds good.” He moves to grab the plate of burgers by the grill, gesturing to the house. “Boys, please bring out the salad, condiments, and tableware from the counter and come set the table. Oh, and get y/n a beer.”

Andy moves to the patio table and sets down the plate of burgers, watching y/n as she slowly sinks into the chair next to him. He catches a whiff of her perfume, a heavenly mix of oranges, vanilla, and sandalwood wafting through his nostrils. It’s the perfect scent for her, he thought, moving to sit at the far end of the table.

The boys come back with all the supplies for dinner, including y/n’s beer, which she is already nursing happily from. Andy’s eyes focus on how her lips wrap around the top of the glass bottle, clearing his throat as if to rid himself of his dirty thoughts.

“So, y/n, what made you want to intern in my office?” He questioned, assembling a burger onto his plate. Y/N tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, carefully putting a helping of salad onto her own plate before assembling the rest of her meal.

“I’m completing my undergraduate degree and then hopefully getting admitted to law school to become an attorney. I figured interning in a real office would be a great first step.” She stuck her fork into the salad, opening her mouth to take in the bite.

“So, what are you getting your undergrad in?” 

“My major is human rights with a minor in economics.” Her eyes met Jacob’s, a smile spreading on her face. “That’s how I actually found out Jake-y here was looking for another roommate. We had microeconomics together. Then I got introduced to these two losers-“ She teased, motioning to the other two guys at the table who feigned hurt expressions. “-and the rest is history.” The boys next to her were all chowing down as usual as if they hadn’t been fed in days.

As they take the time to finish eating, y/n lets the boys do most of the talking. She’s not a huge sharer when she first meets people, and frankly she’s glad to have the guys around to keep her entertained all summer. The dinner is spent catching way-too-long glances from Andy, his eyes lingering on hers for a bit too long here and there. There’s something about him that intrigues her, maybe it’s because he’s not a boy but a man, or maybe it’s just her usual game of cat and mouse, men usually fell to putty at her feet and she assumed he’d be the same.

“That was great dad, thank you.” Jacob says, finishing his third burger of the night. “Anyone up for a late-night swim?” He asked, standing up from the table and picking up a few of the items from it to take them inside. Rashad and Collin follow suit, with y/n trailing behind.

“Sounds good.” Rashad replies, going over to set his plate in the sink before bounding up the stairs. Andy walks back in as the four head upstairs to change, turning on the sink and rinsing off the dishes before setting them in the drying rack on the counter.

Shortly after finishing washing his third plate, he hears the boys running down the stairs, pushing each other to see who can do a cannonball in the pool first. Andy can’t help but chuckle to himself at their energy, it truly was nice to have noise in the house again.

“Can I help you, Mr. Barber?” Andy turns his head to the soft voice behind him, his cock twitching in his jeans. She’s standing in front of him in the tiniest floral bikini he’s even seen on a woman, the bottoms barely covering her slit and leaving nothing to the imagination of her ass.

“It’s Andy.” He chokes out, licking his lips before turning his attention back to the sink. Y/N sashays over to his side, grabbing the clean towel off the counter and starting to dry the dishes as Andy sets them into the rack.

“Right, I’m sorry, Andy.” Her eyes trail over his figure as she speaks, he can feel her eyes on him, and he shifts his weight as he stands to make sure his cock couldn’t be seen through the fabric of his jeans. “Thank you again for letting us all stay here; I was hoping not to have to deal with another summer bummer.” Her thin fingers set each dry dish carefully atop the other, Andy’s eyes glancing over one last time before he turns off the water, drying his hands on a clean towel.

He clears his throat. “Of course, any friend of Jacob’s is a friend of mine.” Suddenly, as if his ears are burning, Jacob opens the screen door sopping wet.

“You coming y/n?” He asks, cocking an eyebrow at her. 

“Yeah, I was just helping your dad clean up.”

Andy shifts uncomfortably, trying to hide the erection in his pants. “Hey kiddo, I’m going to bed, you guys have fun tonight.” He turns to walk down the hallway of the first floor to his bedroom, hearing y/n’s soft voice echoing out to him.

“Goodnight Andy.” She purred, Jacob finally picking her up over his shoulder and carrying her out to the pool area, her cries of protest lingering as he shut the screen door behind them.

Once locked away in his room Andy let out a sigh, undoing his jeans and letting his cock spring free from his underwear. He couldn’t believe the way he was getting hard for his son’s best friend, he hadn’t even had a chance to think of another woman since the divorce, but y/n just had this sickeningly sweet seduction about her, he knew it matched a certain name.

“Lolita.” He murmured, and though she wasn’t a 12-year old girl from the novel, because ew, he did seem to have some sinful obsession with her after having just met. Is this love or lust or some game on repeat? Andy didn’t know, but one thing was for sure, he was definitely about to jerk off to sexual thoughts of her in that bikini.

Tagging those who may be interested. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list: @midnightf @my-divine-death @saamwilsonn @fierylibraa @fuckandfluff​ @rattlemyb0nes​ @rootcrop @goldenboysteve​  @turtoix​  @jeremyrennermakesmesmile​  @ccmarvelxx

[theringers]

V-card anon: hi sorry about that first ask i kinda went into a fugue state (spelling?) altered state of reality maybe when i wrote that and damn near outlined a fic in your inbox

The way we played hot seat was either part of a larger drinking game when a certain card was pulled from a deck, or just on it's own. You sit in a circle, everyone has a drink, usually a beer or cider. In the card pull version, the one who pulls the card gets asked a question by every person playing and if they refuse to answer they drink from their drink. In the standalone, you do that but everyone gets a turn being asked until people get bored and leave. Fun way to find out shit about people. Usually the unwritten rule is that you can't lie. I imagine everyone sitting on shitty chouches and chairs in a semi circle around a table full of cups and bottles playing it

Questions i have been asked: are you a top or bottom? Do you like anal? Wheres the weirdest place you've fucked? Body count? Favorite position (sexual)? Fuck marry kill/ignore people in this room (EVERY TIME I PLAYED I GOT THIS QUESTION)? Tits or ass or other? Favorite non sexual body part ex. Thigh? Ideal fuck buddy? Sex regrets? Etc

Also more weird details i have head cannoned out for some drivers and most likely does not fit with irl personalities, do with this what you will, use it or don't i just have feelings. Also everyone is like compressed in age to like 20-27ish except for some of the grid who i will just think of as younger alumns who come back:

Danny R: social chair, owns a jeep he takes the doors off of in the summer, walks girls home at night to make sure they're ok, tries to DJ house events and is rebuffed by literally everyone, has like 30 pairs of vans you trip over in his room, stolen roadsigns everywhere, masters in something arigcultural or physiological, cutoff frat shirts for days, fuckboy but nice, a bit cringe, will drive around with you at night so you can scream, met reader bc she had a band tee on and wanted to talk to her about it (no gatekeeping)

Charles: some kind of engineering or math degree but no one has any idea how the fuck he's gotten so far, 4.0 never studies, games with other house members, will show up at events randomly you will have no idea how he gets on your couch but he is there, the best and worst taste in clothes, is the only one allowed to play the piano in the house, sweet, cannot help you with studies but is always down for helping you out after, has to be reminded to clean stuff, disaster bi, reader met his gf first and they probably met through that

Pierre: good fashion and music taste, shirt is gone halfway through the night, also fuckboy but wholesome, actually studies, plays a sport for sure probably soccer in some way either club or Division he's too good for rec, will hold your hair back so you can throw up, will tell you your outfit sucks, good at math, also part of the squad that games, econ major, workout buddies with reader anday have taken a math class together

Max: is part of the hockey team he will go pro, also actually studies, got into gaming because of Charles, has the nicest car, is serious until he gets a couple drinks in him, he and Daniel are close and roomed together at some point, owns like 30 sets of the same outfit a white tee and jeans, knows reader through Dan and they get dragged by him to some of the same stuff

Lando: is a pledge or new member his big is Carlos, undeclared major, just happy to be here, gaming squad, used to play lacrosse or something equally obscure, king of knowing where the good snacks are, weirdly good at beer pong, growing into a fuckboy wholesomeness level tbd, probably sweet with reader as she helped him through a blackout or something, met her because she's basically house mom for some of the new boys (the kind of mom who will teach you to do laundry or iron ONCE)

Carlos: hockey flow but does not play hockey, actually studies and is smarter than what people give him credit for, came from a private high school and uni really opened his horizons, also good study buddy, gets along with most people, goes to office hours the most out of the actually studies gang, fun at parties, owns the frat dogs, he and reader met at Office hours (they were the only students) and found they had mutual friends too

Lewis: is/was president of frat, great grades greater bod, did full evolution from fuckboy to good man, has the back tests and the moral support, up for late noght talks about life, definitely was a D1 athlete, best fashion game, implemented no hazing policy, fits into notable alum or PhD category

Mick: undergrad like Lando, also plays soccer or something, too sweet, also walks girls home/holds your hair back etc, cleans parts of the house that aren't his responsibility, higher alcohol tolerance than you expect, everyone is bizarrely protective of him, legacy member (his dad was a legend), drives a motorbike around campus and can't decide between law and psychology, actually studies, met reader through the frat and she would die for him, brings her to class on the bike sometimes because the bike is faster

George: business major, frat treasurer, three ring binder business casual in class kind of guy, nice enough, shirt comes off when drunk, runs marathons and a podcast about investments, best notes in the game and great study partner, actually studies, is drinking monster at 6AM but not because he stayed up late, he and reader met through the frat and sometimes drink wine and bitch together

Lance: hockey player, legacy member, studies sometimes, sarcasm on point, great at stack cup, very chill, knows every good nap spot on campus, also has high alcohol tolerance, is the kind of person who does well in the cold but does not like it, wears headphones so people don't talk to him, great one on one but not in crowds, business major and minor in computer science, probably also met thru Lance's gf but vibe as more introverted people and will cover for each other if one does not want to go out

Nicky: a good boy, part of the walks people home squad, sets up designated drivers for parties, good snack game, future in medical field, good listener, pretty good study buddy, midnight snack enabler, met reader through frat and his gf he and reader are on babysitting duty together sometimes when others get too drunk/high

Yuki: also a pledge or new, majoring in games or computer science as they gave me the same energy as him, games squad, bit of a mad lad, has several stolen street signs, good, met reader through frat and Yuki is the only one patient enough to explain some games to reader, they cuss people out on mic

Esteban: good man, has a full ride scholarship, actually studies, also good study buddy, Dan's little, plays soccer but maybe on a rec team because he prioritizes school, very sweet guy as well, probably chose a really practical major/dual major, met reader through Dan and are also dragged similar places by him

Antonio: manbun, philosophy or classics major possibly business dual, generally good natured but can be seen supplying his own wine at parties, used to be really into metal but kept the hair, does not know that people find him attractive, soccer boi, met reader through frat and she's the only one who will (pretend) to listen to him rant about philosophy

Alex Albon: another full scholarship guy, somehow gets along with everyone, switched majors due to an asshole professor, electrical engineering or computer engineering, actually studies, helps with frat pets,will show you pictures of his cats at home, sweetie, another contender for will hold your hair or walk you home, probably met reader through a class or club and found they had mutual friends and that reader is friends with his gf

Notable alums:

Checo - dad, successful in finance somehow (he looks like an really successful accountant of CFO to me idk why)

Kimi - dad but people forget he is, holds the record for most drinks in 24 hours that will never be come close to by anyone else, shows up on random alum weekends with 2 kegs, legally cannot tell you what he does or he would actually have to murder you

Valterri - was good at a sport when he was there, now a very effective lead engineer at an architectural firm

Seb - environmental or mechanical engineering, all around good guy with someone the best grades in frat history

Alonso - legendary for sexual exploits (consensual)

Anyone I put as actually studies is probably the type reader would hang around for more serious stuff/schoolwork and would probably be closer to, with the exception of Dan bc I feel like he'd be like we're friends now :)) we shall hang or Charles bc he will just show up. I also imagine she has a pretty good friendship with any existing gf, however if a driver does have a gf and he is the love interest sorry bb girl u gotta go for the purposes of this fic

Sorry this is so long hahaaaaaaa glad you liked my Charles thoughts ilu

i honestly wasn’t going to share this like the rest of the anon asks i’ve gotten that i keep close to my heart but this was just too good to keep to myself.

LOOK! AT! THIS!

f1 drivers as frat bros/college students headcannon

i’m writing a series - each “chapter” will be a smut with a different frat bro and i’m hoping to post a sneak peek this week some time but here’s something to hold you over and give you some ideas

to my vcard anon - i appreciate this so much. my inbox is always open for ur thoughts bc they are SO GOOD !! can’t wait for you to read the first part of the series bby

PS if some of this doesn’t make sense to u feel free to send in asks (i know a lot of this is focused on american college culture so if u don’t get it i’m happy to explain)

[uselessidiotsquad]

Character Interview: Sigilis Forgemuzzle

INTRODUCTION

Can you introduce yourself?

- Legionnaire Sigilis Forgemuzzle (she does a half-assed salute). Head Engineer of the Pact.

What is your gender identity, orientation and relationship status?

- Female, Lesbian, Married. (she gives a big toothy grin at the last word)

Where and when were you born?

- 1276 AE - Got dumped in the Fahrar as soon as possible, born just outside of the Citadel, I assume. Since I got tossed like a bag of steaming shit as soon as my fur dried - can’t tell you for sure.

What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?

- Anything that cracks skulls or blasts holes. I just hit or shoot things until they stop moving, that a good enough answer for you?

Lastly, are you happy?

- I’d be happier with five thousand gold and a keg of beer... but for all general reasoning yeah, I’m happy.

FAMILY AND FRIENDS

What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them?

- Charr don’t really do family, I take it you’ve heard that much. Else you got cobwebs in your ears. Never met my sire, or my dam. Never cared to. My family is me, Galla, and Valens - and maybe Ruby on a good day.

Have you ever ran away from home?

- Oh you bet your balls I did. Couldn’t stand the structure of the damn Fahrar growing up anymore than wax can stand being next to a fire. Hated that place.

Would you consider marriage or having children?

- Already married! Would do it again faster than a flashbang going off. Kids? Eh, not for me. Galla wanted ‘em but we got Valens hitching a ride with us so that’s as good as a kid as any.

Do you secretly hate one of your friends?

- Hate is a strong word. Don’t much care for that Ordia but she keeps to herself, so it is what it is.

Which friend knows everything about you?

- Galla knows me from claw to crown, inside and out. (she makes an extremely suggestive face and you hear someone sigh in annoyance in the next room over)

ASKED BY FANS  

Are you literate? Have you been to school?

- ...reading’s tough. I can get by enough to make out the gist of reports and stuff but beyond that, not for me. School? Yeah. Charr rearing is basically school to be a cog for the Legions.

The eeriest prediction you made that later came true?

- I don’t do predictions, takes the fun out of things. Gotta live life in the moment.

What is something you were embarrassingly late to realize?

- You’ll be hard pressed to get something that will embarrass me. I’ll buy you a round if you find anything.

Do you have mental health or physical issues?

- Mental health wasn’t a thing for a long time with Charr. It was just ‘get over it - go drink it off - suck it up or punch something’. Still like that to some degree, ‘specially with older hags like my generation. Some of the younger ones are dealing with it more and burn me, good for them. Physical? What do you expect, I’ve had a life of explosives, fighting, and bar brawls. Comes with the territory.

What is your current main goal?

- Just live and enjoy the ride with my wife. And keep that red midge of a plant from going to kill something the size of a country - again. (she laughs, it’s loud and raucous)

CHOICES

Drink or food?

- Drink. You can go a longer time without food, well I can - look at this padding! (she slaps her rounded stomach fondly) You could put me through seven winters and I’d sleep like a bear.

Cats or dogs?

- Not a pet person.

Early bird or night owl?

-  Eh, early I guess. Galla gets up at the crack of dawn, so I like to get up with her and get coffee or something.

Optimist or pessimist?

- Realist.

Sassy or sarcastic?

- If I ever am ‘sassy’ I give you full permission to shave me bare, glue feathers to my ass and call me a moa.

HAVE YOU EVER

Been caught sneaking out?

- Yeah, me and Gal were in our old ‘band, we snuck out and went drinking some ale we stole from a dithering Blood goon. We were sitting on a roof. They caught us and we had to go back still drunk as fuck.

Broke a bone?

- I stopped counting after six or so.

Received flowers?

- (she gets a warm expression and beams) Yeah! Gal buys me flowers. I keep tellin’ her she doesn’t have to, ‘cause she doesn’t get it, you know, but she does anyway.

Ghosted someone?

- (scratching a little uncomfortably at her neck, she half-winces) Ah, well, shit yeah. Was more than a little... uh, loose in my youth. Some of the ones had flings with caught feelings and I wasn’t about that, back then.

Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get?

- Nah, usually it’s me that tells a joke that no one gets.