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keeryhours · 1 month ago

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girls on film - jonathan byers

Jonathan Byers x shy! female! reader

Main Masterlist

ST Characters Masterlist

Summary:

When you get assigned a photography project with Jonathan, you end up trying something…experimental.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, oral (m receiving)

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N:

So excited for my first Jonathan fic! I’ve been working on this for weeks so I’m so happy it’s finally done 😅

You adjusted the settings on your Nikon F3. Attaching the 55mm lens, you held the camera up to your eye, focusing on your subject - your dog. You were grateful for the fast shutter speed on your new camera, because the Border Collie did not sit still.

“Lucy, stay!” You commanded, hoping you could just get this shot for your photography class. The long haired black and white dog looked at you with her tongue hanging out of her mouth. She listened, but you knew you had only moments before she took off, ready to run the 5 acres of land your family lived on, chasing after the livestock.

You snapped the photo just in time before she stood and ran. You hoped you got a good one, but there was no way to tell until you developed the film. You did not want to get an F on this project just because your dog wouldn’t cooperate.

You sighed as you removed the lens from the camera body, storing both back in their bag. You loved photography - it had become a passion of yours your freshman year of high school. It was your favorite form of art. And you could do it completely solo - you honestly hated interacting with your classmates. Not that there was anything wrong with them (well, not most of them, at least), you just preferred your own company.

You slung the camera bag over your shoulder and walked through the yard and back to your house. The smell of dinner wafted from the kitchen, but you headed up to your room instead. You carefully sat your camera bag on your desk and fell back onto your full size bed.

Your room felt childish. Nothing had changed since middle school. There weren’t photos with friends decorating your mirror, no gifts from your nonexistent relationships. Your bed was still covered with stuffed animals (though you’d never admit you still liked sleeping with them). The walls were painted a pale pink. The only recent decorations were the prints you made of your photography.

Lucy, the farm animals, your family, school events you were asked to photograph for the yearbook. Flowers, photos from finally trips, anything interesting you’d found with your camera on you - which it usually was.

You hoped these photos of Lucy turned out so you could add them to the collection. The left side of your room needed something new. Hell, your life needed something new. Something fresh. Something exciting.

The next day at school, you snuck into the dark room during lunch. You had the space to yourself, which you were grateful for.

Firstly, you mixed together your chemicals so they would be ready, pouring them into their respective trays. You then unloaded the roll of film from your camera. You looked over the negatives, finding some photos of Lucy that turned out great - thank god. You turned the negative around, placing it in the carrier before carefully removing any dust. You placed the carrier in the enlarger. You adjusted the size, using the focusing wheel to make sure it was completely in focus. You adjusted the lens aperture to F8, sliding a filter into the enlarger.

Next, you took a sheet of the photo paper and placed it into the easel. You exposed the photo onto the sheet of paper for about 5 seconds. You moved the sheet to your tray of developer, sliding it in quickly and carefully, then moved the tray gently, watching as the chemicals moved and your photo of Lucy developed in front of your eyes. After 60 seconds, you used the tongs to remove the photo and place it in the stop bath. You slid this tray around, too, using a separate pair of tongs to remove the print and place it into the fixer. After 30 seconds, you checked the thermometer in your tray of water, finding it perfectly at 68 degrees Fahrenheit. You removed the photo and placed it in the tray of water for 2 minutes, emptying and refilling the water a few times to make sure to wash away all the chemicals. When you were done, you hung the black and white photo to dry and continued with the others you wanted to print.

When you were done, you flipped the lights back on, gathering your prints. You checked the clock on the wall and were relieved to see there was still a decent chunk of lunch left - hopefully there would be some pizza left to grab. You pulled the door open and immediately smashed into something - or someone. You stumbled back, your photos falling from your hands.

“I’m so sorry! Here, let me help,” the guy said, crouching down to gather your stuff for you before you had the chance to. He stood, handing your stuff back, and you found yourself looking into the brown eyes of Jonathan Byers. He looked down at your photos as he handed them over. “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. “I just finished up in here.” You brushed your hair behind your ear, feeling shy now that you were no longer in the safety of the darkroom alone.

Jonathan gave you a small kind smile, one that had your heart beating a little harder in your chest. “Your photos look great, by the way,” he added, gesturing to the prints clutched safely in your grasp.

“Oh, thanks,” you said, avoiding his gaze. You cursed yourself for the way you always got shy around other people. It was Jonathan, he was probably the nicest guy in your senior class.

Maybe it was the fact that you’d had a crush on him for forever, watching him in photography class, noticing the beautiful photographs he produced every single time. He was quiet, kind, kept to himself just like you. You had to admit you wanted to get to know him better, but you were scared.

“I’ll, uh, see you in class,” Jonathan said, that same friendly smile on his face. You nodded and slipped by him out of the door. You heard it close behind you as you quickly walked to the cafeteria, hoping there would be something left for you to eat.

You walked into 7th period Photography, taking your seat at your usual desk in the back. Mr. Howard was at the front of the room, talking with another student from last period as the rest of the class filed in. Jonathan gave you a small nod when he walked in, and you returned it before turning your head to hide the blush on your cheeks, again.

You turned in your work as class began, pleased with how the photographs of Lucy had turned out. About halfway through class, Mr. Howard clapped his hands together, commanding the attention of every student.

“Alright, class.” He drummed his hands on the desk like a drumroll, a mischievous smile on his face. “It’s time for your portrait partner project assignments!”

The whole class let out a chorus of groans. Mr. Howard only laughed. “Your partner assignments are posted on the bulletin board. Please check after class.”

Class went on as usual, but you couldn’t focus, too worried about who you would be paired with. You hated working with others, honestly. You preferred being alone whenever possible.

When class was over and most of your classmates had already left, you tentatively made your way over to the board. You scanned the list with your finger tracing down the list of names until you found your own, and the name beside it - Jonathan Byers.

It could definitely have been worse. Jonathan was nice, and he was talented. But he was also…really cute.

“Looks like we’re working together,” a voice came from behind you, and you turned to see Jonathan smiling politely with his bag over his shoulder.

“Looks like it,” you agreed, unable to make eye contact with him. “Do you…want to work at my place or yours?”

“Uh…” He thought for a moment. “My mom has work until late and my brother has his D&D campaign, if you want to come over?”

“Sounds good,” you said. You hadn’t exactly been thrilled at the idea of Jonathan in your middle school style bedroom.

“I can give you a ride, if you want?”

The thought of riding in Jonathan Byers’ car alone with him terrified and excited you. You’d never been alone with a boy before.

“Okay,” you agreed, looking down to hide the blush on your face. You were pretty sure he saw right through you, though - you weren’t exactly being subtle.

He nodded towards the hallway, indicating for you to follow him out of the classroom. You did, and the two of you walked out to the school parking lot together. No one paid you any mind.

He led the way to his rusted Ford LTD. After unlocking the doors for you both, you slid into your respective seats. It took him a few times to get the car started, but eventually it did.

The Byers lived a bit out of the way, a good distance from the main part of Hawkins. So did you, but you had never been out this way. He drove up the dirt driveway of the small house, parking off to the side to leave room for his mother’s car.

You had never been to any of your classmate’s houses before - not since middle school when you were best friends with Chrissy Cunningham, before you drifted apart. It was strange being here alone with him, and the fact that you liked it was even stranger.

Jonathan unlocked the front door and led you inside, walking down the hall towards what you assumed was his bedroom. His room was tidy, his bed made and no clothes strewn across the floor. He had a turntable with stereo on his dresser with a large collection of records and an Evil Dead poster on the wall, which you noticed immediately.

“That’s my favorite movie!” You said, suddenly excited. “I love Ash.”

Jonathan smiled, gently setting his bags on the bed. “It’s a great movie. One of my favorites, too. You like horror?”

“Yeah, of course,” you said. “My favorite genre.”

You started browsing through his records. He had a lot of great music. You picked out The Smiths’ debut album. “Can I?”

“Yeah, of course,” he said. He began pulling his camera out of its bag and getting it set up while you lifted the cover of the turntable and placed the record down gently. You turned it on and lowered the arm to the record, the music beginning to fill the room, quiet enough to just fill the background while you talked.

Jonathan turned to you with his camera in hand - a Pentax MX, you recognized. He fiddled with his settings a little, then smiled at you. “Ready to get started?”

“Yeah,” you said, suddenly shy again. “Where do you want me?”

“Um…” He thought for a second, looking around the space. “How about just against the wall here? Just a plain background. I’ll open the curtain.”

You moved to the wall, adjusting your hair as you walked. Jonathan held his camera up to his eye, making sure he was ready to shoot.

He directed you in a series of poses as he took photo after photo. It was extremely awkward - you were always the one behind the camera. You didn’t like being in front of it. But Jonathan was a complete professional, making you feel as comfortable as possible. You started having fun about the time the song switched to Pretty Girls Make Graves.

“Let’s take a little break, then we can switch,” he said after a good 30 minute session, lowering his camera. “You did great.”

As Jonathan put his equipment away, you wandered around his room. You spotted several books on photography on a shelf, and you reached for one, opening it up and flipping through it.

It was filled with black and white photographs, all of them beautiful portraits. You slowly looked through the book, admiring the stunning work, until you reached a section that made you stop, a blush creeping onto your cheeks.

“I don’t know how people have the confidence to do this,” you said, looking down at the tasteful nude photos. Women posing with their breasts fully exposed to the camera, each looking absolutely beautiful.

Jonathan looked over your shoulder. “It’s just art,” he said, a small smile on his face. “If you’re working with a photographer you’re comfortable with…I imagine it’s easy.”

You shook your head. “I can’t imagine.”

It was silent for a moment as you both gazed down at the photos. “Would you…ever want to try?”

Your head snapped around in his direction, your eyes wide. “What?”

“You- you could try it,” he said, suddenly very nervous. “We could try it. If you want to.”

You felt yourself blushing all over your entire body. You slowly closed the book, turning around to look at Jonathan. “You…want to take these kinds of photos…of me?”

“Yeah, why not?” Jonathan said with a shrug and that shy smile. “I’m a photographer. You’re modeling. And…you’re beautiful. You’d do amazing.”

You couldn’t believe what he was suggesting. Jonathan wanted to take nude photos, of you?? But you had to admit to yourself…you were intrigued. You hadn’t had any exciting experiences in your life. It was about time for something to happen.

And did he just call you beautiful?

“O…okay,” you said, trying to find your confidence. “How…do we do this?”

“Well,” Jonathan started. “You can, uh…undress, and I’ll get my camera ready?”

Your hands were shaking as you nodded slowly. “Okay,” you said. “Let’s do this.”

Jonathan turned around, giving you privacy as he fiddled with his camera. You lifted your shirt over your head and dropped it to the ground. Next you undid your jeans, pushing them down your legs and dropping them into a pile with your shirt. You took a deep breath before you reached behind your back and unhooked your bra, dropping it and then sliding your panties down your legs.

Completely naked, you finally fully realized what you had gotten yourself into. You were currently standing naked in Jonathan Byers’ bedroom. You felt your nipples hardening as they were exposed to the cold air. You held a hand across your breasts, as if you weren’t completely naked from the waist down too and about to have nude photos taken. “Okay…I’m ready.”

Jonathan turned around, his eyes going wide when he saw you. His gaze raked over your body before meeting your eyes again. “You- uh- you look- you look great,” he said, pink blush rising on his cheeks.

You couldn’t help but smile. It made you feel better that he was nervous, too. “Thanks,” you said shyly. “Um…I guess we should get started?”

“Oh yeah, yeah,” Jonathan said quickly, snapping out of whatever trance he was in. “Um, you can stand over there?” He pointed to the blank space on his wall.

You moved over there, dropping your hands from your breasts. Jonathan locked eyes with them for just a moment before he was looking at your face again. “Want me to put on some music?”

“Please,” you said, feeling like it would help you get in the zone and be more comfortable.

Jonathan walked to the record player, flipping through his records before pulling one out and placing it on the turntable. David Bowie’s voice carried through the room, and you smiled. “I love Bowie.”

“Me too,” Jonathan said, returning your smile. He moved back in front of you and lifted the camera to his eye. “Okay, just pose like…this?” He said, miming the placement of your arms.

You held your arms behind your head the way he showed you, kneeling down on the carpet. “Like this?”

“Perfect,” he said, snapping a bunch of photos. “You look beautiful.”

You blushed deeply. Having your naked body on full display was a new, terrifying experience, but it was also…exhilarating. You were kind of loving it.

Jonathan hadn’t felt so inspired in ages. Something about your body was perfect for photography, he thought you looked beautiful and you photographed like a real model. He could tell you were shy, but you were doing an amazing job. These photos were going to be some of the best he’d ever taken.

He instructed you through different poses, encouraging you the entire time. The longer the session lasted, the more comfortable you felt. By the time a few songs had passed, you were honestly having a great time.

“How about you sit on the bed for this one?” Jonathan said, gesturing to his bed. You sat down on the edge of it, looking to Jonathan for more instructions. “Just hold your arms like…this.”

You did your best to copy what Jonathan was trying to show you. “Like this?”

“No, kind of like…” He lowered his camera to hang around his neck and moved over towards you. “This.” He reached for your arms and began to pose you, but his fingers accidentally brushed over your hardened nipple. You gasped, jumping slightly at the sensation, and Jonathan looked up at you with wide eyes.

“I’m so sorry!” He said, dropping his hands. “I didn’t mean to-��

“It’s okay,” you said, giggling lightly. “I…didn’t mind.”

Jonathan looked into your eyes, like he was searching for something. His gaze lowered to your lips, then back to your eyes. The next thing you knew, he was leaning in, and you felt his lips press against yours.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your eyes falling closed as you kissed him back. His hand came up to cup the side of your head, his thumb caressing your cheek. He ran his tongue across your bottom lip and you opened, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth completely, dancing with your own.

You couldn’t believe what was happening. You were finally having your first kiss - at 18, but whatever - and it was with Jonathan Byers. While also naked.

Your hand slid beneath his shirt, feeling the skin of his stomach and chest. He pulled back and pulled it over his head before moving back to your lips, kissing you hungrily as his hands roamed your bare skin.

You pulled away, suddenly nervous. Jonathan looked as if you’d just yelled at him, like he felt bad for overstepping your boundaries, which he hadn’t done at all. “Have you…ever done this before?” You asked.

Jonathan looked back at you, this time a slight blush on his cheeks. “Uh, no. Never.”

“Me either,” you admitted, which made Jonathan smile a bit.

“I thought you’d think less of me,” he said. He reached for your hand and held it in his own. “Like I’m the Freak no one wants to go out with.”

“I don’t think that at all,” you assured him. It was your turn to place your hand on his cheek and turn him to look at you. “I think you’re really handsome. And the girls at school are missing out if they overlook you.”

Jonathan smiled again, his cheeks tinged red. “I think you’re the most beautiful girl in school.”

You blushed as well, your whole body heating. “That’s definitely not true.”

“Well, I think it is.” Jonathan caressed your face with the back of his hand, looking into your eyes. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. The way I’ve always seen you.”

“You noticed me?” You were surprised, because no one noticed you. You were grateful you weren’t exactly picked on, but it would be nice for your classmates to know you’re there.

“Of course I did,” Jonathan said, like it was obvious. “You’re the best photographer in school. Your photos are always beautiful. You have so much talent, and you’re so pretty and kind.”

You couldn’t believe what he was saying. He had noticed you? And not only noticed you, but felt those things about you like you had about him?

“I think you’re the best photographer in school,” you said shyly, unable to meet his gaze now. “And you’re always kind, even when people are dicks to you. And you’re so handsome it makes my heart beat faster when I see you.”

Jonathan smiled, looking down at his hands. “I can’t believe you feel the same way about me.”

You thought for a moment. You could keep sitting here being all shy, or you could take what you wanted. You could stop sitting on the sidelines of life and do something you want for once. Something he wants, too.

You turned to him, and he turned to you. You moved in, and he did the same. Your lips pressed together again, and you kissed him eagerly this time, your hand resting on his face as he placed his hand on your hip. You gently pushed him down on the bed, and he obeyed. He watched wide eyed as you climbed onto his lap, grinding down on the growing bulge in his pants. He groaned and tightened his grip on your hips.

“God, you…you look so beautiful,” he said breathless, eyes roaming your body hungrily. You grabbed his hands and slowly trailed them up your body, rubbing over your ass and up your sides until you placed them over your tits. His eyes somehow went even wider, a rush of air leaving his lips. “J-Jesus Christ.”

“You can touch me,” you said, bolder than you felt. “You can touch me wherever you want.”

Jonathan let out a shuddering breath and you removed your hands, leaving him there to do as he pleased. He slowly began massaging your tits, thumbs running over your peaked nipples, making you shiver. You rotate your hips as you grinded against his lap, feeling him growing harder and harder beneath you. His expression looked totally fucked out already and you’d barely even touched him.

Your hands slid under his t-shirt again. “Why don’t you take this off?”

He sat up quickly, pulling his shirt off and over his head. You took in the sight of his bare chest, hands roaming the now exposed skin. Then you surprised him by moving farther down his body. He breathed in a gasp of air as your hands began undoing his jeans.

He watched with rapt attention as you got them undone, lifting his hips to help you pull them and his boxers off his body. His cock sprung free, long and hard and leaking precum already. He was bigger than you expected.

“H-oh shit,” he breathed out as you wrapped your hand around his cock, feeling it twitch in your hand. You moved forward and wrapped your lips around his tip, running your tongue around it experimentally. His hips bucked up- “Sorry! Shit, sorry-“ but you didn’t mind. You liked that he was so weak for you, so desperate for more of your touch.

You began bobbing your head up and down his cock, taking more of him every time you lowered your head. His hands were gripped in tight fists in his bed sheets, like he wasn’t sure what to do with them but needed to hold onto something.

You pulled off of him. “You can touch me,” you reminded him, a little giggle in your voice. “I want you to touch me.”

Jonathan just nodded, but when you went back to sucking his cock, he grabbed the back of your hair with one of his hands. He wasn’t shy about his moans - either that or he couldn’t help it - but you were loving it. You had never done this before, but the noises he was making let you know you were doing a good job. An amazing job, apparently.

“Baby,” he moaned, high and desperate. “Feels so good. Oh my god- it’s so good.”

You almost laughed, he was so cute, but you kept it together as you took him deeper and deeper with every pass, running your tongue around his tip every time you reached it.

“Fuck, fuck,” he moaned, his breaths coming in shorter bursts. “I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop right now. And I really…really wanna do more with you.”

You wouldn’t have minded making him cum with your mouth, but doing more sounded way too enticing. You pulled off of him and he watched as a string of saliva connected your lips to his cock, dropping his head back on the pillows with a groan.

Crawling up his body slowly, you placed kisses as you went, making him shudder. When you reached his lips you kissed him again, his hands sliding up your sides.

“God, you are…so hot,” he groaned, hands squeezing the plush skin of your ass before sliding back up your body, enjoying every inch of you.

“So are you,” you hummed, kissing his neck, biting and sucking when you found the spot that made him moan. Then, to your surprise, he grabbed you and flipped you both so he was on top.

He started kissing your neck, making you moan beneath him as he left purple hickies on your skin. You felt his hard cock pressed up against your core, and he pulled back, looking at you with pleading eyes that contradicted his next words.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked, his voice raspy. It was obvious he very much did. “We don’t have to. If you want to stop now, we can.”

“I don’t want to stop,” you said quickly. “I…want to keep going. Do you have a condom?”

“Shit,” he hissed. “No. This isn’t, uh, something I do often.”

You giggled. “It’s okay. We can still do it. Just, uh…pull out?”

Jonathan nodded vigorously. “I can do that.”

He reached down between your bodies, wrapping his hand around his cock as he dragged the head between your folds, gathering your slick on him. Then he was pressing at your entrance, gaze darting back up to look into your eyes.

“Let me know if you don’t like it, okay?” He said. “I can stop any time. We don’t have to do this.”

“Jonathan,” you said with a small laugh. “It’s okay. Just do it.”

He nodded, then looked back down to where you were connected as he slowly began pushing inside. It stung at first, the intrusion unfamiliar and painful the farther he filled you, but it eased into a kind of pleasure before long. You held onto his shoulders tightly.

Jonathan groaned when he bottomed out inside of you, body shuddering from the sheer pleasure of being buried inside your tight, wet walls. It felt amazing for him, better than his hand, better than what he dreamed sex would be like. You were perfect, like your body was made for him, made to take him.

“Oh my god, Jonathan,” you moaned. “Feels so good. You’re so big. Please move, need you to fuck me.”

He moaned, hand gripping tightly in the bed sheets again. “Fuck, if you say things like that I’m gonna cum faster than I want to.”

He pulled back out slowly before rolling his hips back into you. It felt even better that time, a high whine coming from your lips. Reassured seeing that you were enjoying it, he set a steady pace, thrusting into you quickly. He buried his face in your neck, moaning as he truly began to fuck you.

“God, this is…fuck, feels so good. You feel so fucking good. Shit, I can’t-“ He cut himself off with another moan, high and whiney and so fucking hot.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling lightly at his dark brown locks. You wrapped your legs around his waist, guiding him to fuck you faster, which had him moaning your name over and over again.

“Jonathan,” you moaned, back arching off the bed. “Please, I-“

Jonathan reached between your bodies, fingers beginning to rub at your clit. He had the idea, but didn’t exactly know what he was doing.

“Rub in circles,” you told him, although what he was doing didn’t feel bad. He did as you instructed, rubbing quick tight circles on the sensitive bud. “Fuck, yeah, just like that. Just like that.”

The combined feeling of his cock deep inside you and his fingers working against your clit had a coil tightening in your belly, your peak coming faster and faster. “Jon, I’m-“

Your orgasm crashed into you, having you seeing stars as your back arched off the bed, pussy clenching around him as you called his name again and again. “Jonathan! Oh my god, Jonathan-“

It sent Jon over the edge too, crying out loudly as he quickly pulled out and pumped his cock a couple times as he shot his load all over your chest, stomach and thighs. It was so much, and you had never seen a guy cum before. You watched him with wide eyes, the sight turning you on all over again.

You both caught your breath, trying to calm down after all that. Jonathan reached for a dirty shirt on the floor and cleaned you off, then laid down on his bed next to you.

“That was absolutely incredible,” he breathed, wrapping an arm around you. “You were incredible.”

“That was amazing,” you agreed. He leaned over and pulled you into a passionate kiss.

“Be my girlfriend,” he said, thumb rubbing circles on your hip.

You raised your eyebrows. “Really? You mean it?”

“Of course I do,” he laughed. “Haven’t you realized how into you I am? Especially after all this?”

You blushed, hiding your face in his chest. “Yes. Of course I’ll be your girlfriend.”

The two of you cuddled in bed for a while longer, until you looked over at his alarm clock and saw the time. “Oh god. I’m gonna be late for curfew.”

Jonathan looked over at the time, too. “Oh, wow. I didn’t realize it had gotten so late. Do you want me to give you a ride home?” He asked. “We can, uh, do your part of the project tomorrow,” he added, cheeks tinged red.

“Okay,” you agreed, smiling and giving him a kiss. “Sounds good to me.”

You both got dressed, trying to look as if you hadn’t done what you had just done. You left his room and headed down the hall - seeing Jonathan’s mom, Joyce, sitting in the living room.

She smiled at you awkwardly. “Hi, so nice to meet you.”

You took her hand in yours, blushing furiously as Jonathan avoided eye contact with his mother. “Nice to meet you, too,” you said, giving her your name.

As you and Jonathan walked out hand in hand, he turned to you. “She definitely knew what we did.”

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

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pathologicalreid · 1 year ago

Note

Spencer ordering breakfast in and serving breakfast in bed on readers first day of spring break!!! He knows reader has been working so hard and it being hard on the bth people while he’s gone on longer cases :,) reader would def send a pic to Penelope and she’d show the others 🤭

breakfast in bed | S.R.

your boyfriend surprises you with breakfast in bed to celebrate spring break

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: fluff! fun fluffy fluff!!!!!! word count: 1.2k a/n: thank you for requesting!! it's my first day of spring break, so i figured today would be the perfect day to post this!!

At the click of the front door, your eyes fluttered open. The bright light seeping through the blinds of your bedroom led you to start squinting as you felt around the other side of the bed for your boyfriend, disappointment filling your chest when you realized he wasn’t there.

Rolling on your back, you sighed and let gravity press you into the mattress, letting yourself enjoy the comfort of your covers before sitting up and reaching over to your nightstand. You used your water carafe to pour yourself a glass of water, sipping it while you allowed your mind and body to wake up.

A rustling in the kitchen got your attention, and it wasn’t long until the door to your bedroom swung open, showing your boyfriend on the other side of the opening. “Good morning,” his voice chimed at you, “I thought you were still asleep.”

You shook your head softly, setting your water glass back on the nightstand, “Just woke up. What’s going on?” Quickly, you analyzed the sight in front of you. Spencer was dressed casually, definitely not his usual work garb – strange for a Monday morning.

He padded over to you and presented you with a tray, he extended the legs of the tray and placed it over your lap. “It’s spring break,” Spencer said matter-of-factly, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

Furrowing your brows in confusion, you looked at him. “Yes,” you said warily, “it’s my spring break.” Spencer hadn’t had a spring break since he finished his bachelor’s in philosophy, and even then, he had been working for the bureau.

“I wanted to make it special,” he told you, disappearing back into the kitchen before returning with a drink carrier and an unlabeled white bag.

Your lips parted in surprise, “You went to Moe’s?’

He nodded enthusiastically. “It’s your favorite,” he explained simply, setting the drink carrier on your nightstand before distributing your coffee and juice to your tray.

You reached for the coffee first, swirling it slightly in the cup before responding, “It’s all the way across town.” That was part of the reason you rarely went, the last thing you wanted to do at first light was commute through the district.

Spencer hummed in response, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to your hairline, “You’re worth it.” He set the white bag on your tray before climbing up on the bed with you, sharing the tray. “You look pretty,” he observed, slightly out of left field.

Setting your coffee down, you cleared your throat, “I just woke up, Spence.” Gently, you reached for the white bag, opened the crinkly paper, and let the smell fill your senses.

“The time that you’ve been awake doesn’t alter how beautiful you are,” he informed you, watching as you filtered through the food in the bag. You grabbed your phone off of the charger and snapped a picture of your breakfast in bed, quickly sending it to Penelope before typing out a message about being spoiled.

Putting your phone away, you grinned, “Maybe you’re biased by the fact that I wore your shirt to sleep in.”

He beamed at you and nodded almost imperceptibly, “There’s also that.”

As the two of you ate, you checked the time as it got suspiciously late in the morning. Crumpling your napkin in your hand, you looked up at Spencer, “When do you have to go in?”

You knew that sometimes, after particularly rough cases, Agent Hotchner would tell the team they didn’t need to come in until a little later in the morning, but it was pushing ten in the morning now and you were curious. Spencer perked up a little at your question, “I have to be there at ten tomorrow for the debrief, but I’m yours until then.”

“You took the day off of work?” Silently, you tried to remember the last time Spencer had taken a day off by choice, but nothing came to mind.

He nodded eagerly, “I wanted to spend time with you, while you don’t have work or school.” He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before getting up and taking care of the mess.

When you weren’t at home or in school, you worked as a teaching assistant, so since classes weren’t in session, work wasn’t in session. “You didn’t have to do that,” you murmured, grabbing your coffee off of the tray before he could clear it.

Spencer smiled softly at you, leaning over, and pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, “I missed you. We kept missing each other, I had to do something.” He slipped away to the kitchen, “I planned the whole day for us.”

A grin bloomed on your face, “You did?” You laughed lightly, “What are we doing today?”

Upon his return, Spencer paused in the opening, leaning on the painted wood of the doorframe. “We are going to go see the cherry blossoms, did you know I’ve never seen them?”

You cocked your head curiously, “You’ve lived in DC for eight years and you’ve never seen the cherry blossoms?” Really, you were surprised that you didn’t know that about him.

“Angel, I had to take the day off just to see you,” he reminded you, walking back to where you were perched on the bed. Tenderly, he cupped your cheeks in his hands, “Did you sleep alright? You looked tired last night.”

Nodding emphatically, you peered up at him, “Yeah, sleeping in felt nice.”

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows, “You’ve been working so hard lately, I want to make sure you’re remembering to take care of yourself. Especially since I’m not always here with you.”

You had to work hard, especially if you wanted to graduate early like you planned. “You’ve been gone a lot,” you concurred, “saving lives is a busy job.”

Carefully, Spencer sat down next to you on the bed, pushing the mattress down slightly under the weight of him. “I know it’s hard on you when I’m gone,” he whispered.

“I know it’s hard on you when you’re gone,” you echoed sympathetically. He had just been gone for two weeks, and when he came back, he didn’t have the energy to do anything other than rest his head on your shoulder while you worked on a term paper. When you finished for the night, he had fallen asleep like that. You didn’t have the heart to wake him up, so you both slept on the couch.

He hummed, dropping his hands to your waist, “I love you.”

Leaning up, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, “I love you too, Spence.” You studied his golden irises, “So… cherry blossoms will take a few hours at most, what do you have planned for afterward?”

A sly grin spread on your boyfriend’s face, “It’s a secret. You’ll find out later.”

Confused, you watched as he turned around to the bathroom. Shaking your head, you reached for your phone to see that Penelope had responded.

Penny G: EEK Penny G: Morgan wants you to tell Spencer he was not aware of his game.

Rolling your eyes, you dropped your phone on the mattress and went to join your boyfriend in the shower.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #written by margot #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #margot's requests

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bullet-prooflove · 9 months ago

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Birthday Celebration Bingo: Cake - John Nolan x Reader

Tagging: @ravennaortiz @anime-weeb-4-life @trublu2u @hellostickerdoodle @kmc1989

John doesn’t tell anyone that it’s his birthday. Truthfully he doesn’t want the reminder that he’s the oldest rookie the LAPD has ever had, he’s just happy to let the day pass him by.

When he’s assigned to the crime scene, he’s gets a little excited. It’s his first mandatory callback and he’s eager to get started.

“It’s just guard duty.” Sergeant Grey tells him. “You have to stay until the detectives release the scene.”

The thing about guard duty? It’s kinda boring. It’s meant to be an hour or two tops, but he’s on hour five and his phone battery is starting to die out. There’s only so much Angry Birds the poor device can take.

When he hears the elevator chime he’s practically frothing at the mouth for company. He already counted the exact amount of ceiling tiles in the conference room and the waste paper basket is overflowing with the screwed up wads he’s been trying to dunk.

He doesn’t expect it to be you stepping off the elevator. You have a white carrier bag in your hand and smile that gets his heart racing.

“This is your case?” He says as he picks up the clipboard and moves to greet you. The crime scene tape is tied to a plant in the corner and the reception desk. You linger on the opposite side of the barrier.

“God no.” You say indicating to the crime scene tape. “If it was mine, you would have been set free hours ago. This is Bertrum’s mess.”

“Oh.” He says, before tilting his head to one side, his eyebrows furrowing into a frown “So why…”

“Happy birthday.” You say, removing something from the carrier bag and setting it on the desk between you. It’s a white cake box from the Hummingbird Bakery. He smiles as he opens it. It’s chocolate, his favourite, the words ‘Happy Birthday Officer Nolan’ are written in white icing.

“You mentioned last week that your was birthday coming up and you weren’t doing anything to celebrate so I thought I’d surprise you.” You tell him as his eyes raise up to meet yours. “Then I heard you were trapped here so I thought I’d drop by on my lunch break.”

“Becca, I honestly don’t know what to say.” He tells you, his palm brushing across his mouth. “Can I hug you?”

You haven’t known each other very long, not more than a few months but the two of you have a connection. It started when you met during a crime scene, the two of you had made each other laugh and from there it had shifted into something a little more. There’s feelings there, certainly on his end, yours, he can never be sure.

“I brought you cake. I think it’s customary.” You remark.

He ducks underneath the tape, his arms wrapping around you, drawing you close. You fit against him perfectly, like the missing piece of a puzzle and in that moment John realises that he doesn’t want to ever let you go.

The two of you hold on for a long time before you pull away so you can rifle in your purse. It takes you a minute but you finally manage to locate the two wooden forks you stowed away. You press one into his hand before gesturing towards the cake.

“Shall we?”

Love John? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#john nolan #john nolan x reader #the rookie

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identifying-cat-phenotypes · 4 months ago

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Hi! I saw you post my friend's cat and I'd like to share mine!

This is Murphy and he's verrrry large. I have to take him places in a stroller because he's too big for a carrier.

He's been my best friend for 15 years now and I love him so much. Also, that rug used to be blue but he loves shedding on it so it always ends up grey again. (Also also, he loves paper bags. I have to give them to him to roll on.)

This lovely paper-bag roller looks like a black mackerel tabby with medium white!

#ask #identifiCATion #tabbies #black tabby #black mackerel tabby #medium white #mod jay

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celestialhole · 1 year ago

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Dad!Price headcanons

Warnings: OOC maybe? Slight mentions of sex like one but other than it's just a grumpy man and his chaotic lil' baby ❤️.

Boydad!Price!! Hello?? We need more of this in the world! I also headcanoned his middle name as Andrew, it doesn't have to be his middle name in your world it is in mine. 🤷‍♂️

He was sitting in his home, in his office looking over reports when he got the call his child was being born. He picked his phone up without looking at it and heard his mother's voice, "Johnathan Andrew Price, If you don't bring your ass back home right now." His body stiffened and he froze. Price blinked before speaking, "Mum.. Did somethin' happen?" He looked back down at his papers and started writing again. "It's your child John! Im at the hospital with (your name) and it's happening today, and Im confused as to why you're not here?!" His mother spoke through the phone. Price almost jumped out of his skin, he dropped his pen and immediately started gathering his shit. Next thing he knew he had a little baby boy, wrapped with a white blanket and a little blue beanie on his head as he wailed in Price's arms while sweating from the long, fast-paced journey it took for him to get here on time.

His mother definitely took pictures of him crying and holding his newborn son.

I have a feeling Price handled fatherhood with ease. He had the baby car seat already in his car before his son was born, had the baby carrier already, and bought loads of diapers. If you weren't breastfeeding he's already bought baby formula and everything. Mans is prepared for the worst. His son tugs on his mutton chops while Price is feeding him, and he does it for his own comfort so when Price tries to detach those baby fingers from his beard his child starts making that little face and those soft cries that always melt his heart. He sighs, brings the hand back up to his beard and watches as his son stops crying, and goes back to tugging on his beard.

Of course, he has to take long measurements to make are you and your kid's safety is assured given his reputation and the many enemies he has made over his years in the SAS. You live in one of those towns where everyone basically knows each other, it's a small community buts it's safer than a big city. I can imagine Price's mother lecturing his parental skills each time he comes to visit her with her grandbaby in arms. You and her always bonded over teasing Price and now here she is cooing to your crying son like, "I know baby, I know.. Shhh.. John why are you feedin' him those weird crackers?! He needs food!" She shouted to her son, "I JUST FED HIM!" John shouted from downstairs.

When he's on deployment you send him videos and photos and you and your son while communications are still on. Price comes back from a successful mission but he's exhausted and once he stumbles to his office he picks up his phone and sees the many videos you had sent to him. A small smile begins to spread across his face as he taps the message and sees a video of you ushering your little boy to walks forward to you. He watches with awe at the sight of his son actually walking towards you with a big smile and loud squealing before he tumbles on the floor and giggles. You're gently cheering him on as he works to stand back up and it isn't long until Price begins to cry, he misses you and his little boy so much and it sucks he isn't there to see these moments with you and be apart of his son's big accomplishments. And that's when something clicked in his head. What's the point of being a father if he's not even gonna be able to be there with his child?

Price did a lot of thinking, looking over the years he had been in the SAS, and the years he had been with you. The times you had both talked about marriage, kids and his possible retirement.

So when Price comes back home he drops his bags and wraps his arms around your waist tightly. His hand caressed your hair before he spoke softly in your ear, "I'm here.. And guess what?" He pulled back and looked at you with that smile you adored oh so much. "I'm stayin' for good this time." His hand on your face and his thumb rubbing your cheek, you looked at him with furrowed brows before you quickly connected the dots. "You.. John— Did you retire?" "Yep, I couldn't handle being separated from you both and those videos and pictures you sent only made me more homesick, I didn't want to leave you here constantly

You jumped up and wrapped your legs around him and your arms around his neck in sheer glee. He laughed and kept his arms wrapped around your waist tightly as he held you with ease. After a few moments of shared kisses, he pulls away and looks around, "Speakin' of, where is the little monster?" "Upstairs in his room, he's probably awake." You replied and were set back on the ground before he quickly walked upstairs and into your son's room where his boy is standing up in his crib. When his son spots him he starts bouncing and lets out a high-pitched "Hi!" as he smiles. One of the words he had learned was 'hi' and always greeted people with a loud hi and a big smile. Price scooped the boy in his arms and began throwing him in the air, he chuckled at his sons' loud giggles and happy squeals each time he was thrown in the air.

When your son reaches the ages of 6-8 he starts to show an interest in soccer. Or as Price says "football". You'd catch them both outside in the backyard playing with the ball Price's mother had bought for him when he was a child. He had to dig through his mother's attic to find that raggedy thing just so they could play.

Always keeps a close eye on his son when in public, makes him hold his hand, or just picks him up when around other people.

You both decide to homeschool your son and buy textbooks, flashcards, and notebooks for him when he turns six. You mostly help with the teaching while Price cleans around the house or cooks. Occasionally will walk over to see how his son is doing in whatever subject he's currently working on or if he's just practicing his writing skills. I see him being an expert in helping him with history, English, and maybe math. Hates science though but he tries to help still.

Would be that parent that properly educates his son on the 'errors' the system fails to teach in history.

If and when your son gets in trouble for doing something he knows he shouldn't have done you're probably the one who does the disciplining and while you're cooling off in the other room Price stands up from the couch and goes to the corner your son is crying in to have a gentle but firm talk with him.

Doesn't do spankings or hit his child in any way, his voice and punishments are enough to teach a proper lesson.

Will sometimes wake up from his naps covered in marker and in multiple different colors and he doesn't notice it until he goes to the bathroom and sees his son's artwork on his face.

You both have another child as a result of Price being unable to keep his hands off of you. Best part? It's a little girl! And Price is over the moon that he gets to have another little baby to take care of (he loves his crazy little boy though). Price works hard to make sure his partner is relaxed and comfortable and that his children are healthy and happy.

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #captain john price #john price x reader #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price cod #john price cod #captain johnathan price #captain price x you #As usual if you see any letters that are bigger than the rest just ignore it #Tired of trying to fix that crap😭

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witchhaven · 2 months ago

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Delivery Class S-260-7

Today's been a lazy one. Soul is sitting on my roof with Thread, watching the clouds go by, appearing painted on the pale blue sky. The light of the sun provides a surprising amount of warmth on this winter day. Soul's eyes open as it sits up, alert at the sound of footsteps walking up my steps. It's another doll. Diminutive in stature, with green eyes, a white button up shirt covered by a similarly green, open button-up jacket. Underneath it wears a pair of poofy black shorts which end in frills. Out from the bottom of the shorts poke legs cloaked in what appear to be knitted leggings, and the feet are cradled in a pair of dark brown leather high-topped walking shoes. A cross-body strap rests on its left shoulder, supporting another dark brown leather bag, which appears to be full of letters, which a frilly white gloved hand makes its way in to retrieve one of. Its other hand reaches for the shiny black short bill of the green cap resting atop its black hair.

It takes one last look at the address on the envelope before it knocks on the door. Soul immediately slides off of the roof nonchalantly, landing on my wooden patio behind the doll. The doll turns around to face Soul, nearly dropping the parcel at the sight. It falls onto its back, still facing up as it backs up into my door, trembling as it seemingly anticipates a violent fate. Soul turns around, and looks down at the doll with diminutive stature. It tilts its head at the terrified mail carrier in mild confusion. Crouching down, it takes a look at the doll's ID tag.

"Delivery Class S-260-7..." It backs back off of the nearly fainting doll, "I didn't know the collective made mail dolls..." S-260-7 shakes timidly, as it raises its hands, still grasping the envelope, to present it to Soul.

"Ah, is that for me?" Soul gently takes the letter from the doll.

It looks back over at S-260-7 blankly, searching for confirmation. The mail doll nods its head quietly.

Soul works its right index fingertip into the crease at the top of the envelope, slowly working its way to cleanly rip it open along the line made weak by the fold, "You don't seem to talk... Did they give you a voice box?"

S-260-7 shakes its head.

"Mmm, that's a shame. I don't know how they'd expect you to ask for directions if you ever need to..." It sits cross legged as it peers inside the envelope.

Pulling out a piece of paper, it reads through for a few minutes, before pulling off a small plastic card. It slips the card into its pocket before looking back at the mail doll. S-260-7 is holding another piece of paper, and a pen in its trembling hands, seeming to request a confirmation of delivery. Soul signs the piece of paper in the designated field for the doll.

As the mail doll takes back off down my steps, I feel my door open, as Thread peers its head out, "Hey wait, before you go!"

S-260-7 stops in its tracks, still trembling, and looks back, seeing the wind-up doll looking at it.

"Feel free to come back by when you're done with your deliveries. You don't need to feel scared of Soul, it wouldn't hurt you. We don't really ever see any dolls outside our household though, it would be nice to get to know you!"

Timidly, the mail doll eyes Soul up and down. Its gaze lands on Soul's deep red optics. Its shoulders slump slightly as it realizes that perhaps it's the one not being accommodating. Soul's expression has no violent intent. While it doesn't seem to express any emotion whatsoever, the feelings the mail doll gathers are more that of a puppy awaiting a command. It glances back at Thread and nods, before heading off to complete its deliveries.

Thread glances over at Soul once S-260-7 is gone, "You didn't have to scare it like that!" "What? I scared it?" Soul looks at Thread. It nods, "That's why it was shaking so bad." "Oh, I see. How did I scare it though? I wasn't going to hurt it." Soul's brow furrows.

Thread sighs as it sits next to its dear companion, "You're a combat doll, you're big and tall and imposing, and you dropped down and landed behind it unexpectedly. If that was how we met, I would've been scared too, you know."

"I didn't even realize..." Soul crosses its arms as it looks out to where the two last saw the mail doll, "I'll try to be more careful, and to apologize to it if it shows up later."

Hours go by as the dolls all move onto tidying me up in anticipation of the evening visitor before continuing to laze around. The sun is nearing the horizon and the dolls are all spending time around my fireplace when another knock is heard at my front door. Heart proceeds to open it to see the very same timid mail delivery doll, now with an empty bag. It jumps slightly at the opening of my door, but gives Heart a friendly if sheepish smile.

S-260-7 is coaxed into the living area, where it sees all the other dolls, except for Soul. It's mildly confused at the absence of the combat doll, but joins the dolls all the same. Shortly thereafter, Soul walks back into the room, handing the mail doll a cup of tea. When S-260-7 accepts the glass, it peers the dark cracks in Soul's right hand, stretching a spiderweb of damage across the hard surface. It struggles to imagine what could've caused the damage as it graciously accepts the tea. It takes a sip, enjoying the warm tinge of tangy hibiscus tea with a spoonful of honey to sweeten the beverage.

"I brewed that myself. It's what my late witch introduced me to..." It smiles at the mail doll, "I'm sorry I scared you earlier..."

The mail doll shakes its head, smiling at Soul. Placing the saucer and teacup in its left hand, it brings its open right hand to the middle of its chest, thumb pointing towards itself, and tapping its thumb on itself a few times. It then resumes drinking the pleasant tea given to it.

Soul smiles again, looking relieved that the mail doll isn't upset, "Do you have a Miss?"

S-260-7 shakes its head.

"Do you have a name?" Self chimes in, with a concerned expression.

It shakes its head again.

Heart places a hand on the mail doll's shoulder, "A home?"

S-260-7 slumps over, placing the saucer on the nearby coffee table. Its shoulders shaking as it holds back tears, once again shaking its head.

"You have one now." Soul places its hand on the mail doll's shoulder, "I'm sure there's already a room for you here."

The mail doll is guided through my halls to a room which I've indeed now prepared for it, given the news that it doesn't have one. No doll I encounter will go without a home on my watch. It enters the room and proceeds towards its soft bed, which it places a hand on in disbelief. Soul and Thread stand at the open door of the room, peering in at it.

"You're safe now, okay?" Thread reassures the doll.

S-260-7 nods at Thread with a smile, watching it begin to push the door closed. It rushes toward the two dolls before it can be actually closed, pushing it open and putting its arms around both Thread and Soul. The two respond in kind, holding the mail doll for a few moments, before it recedes back inside, allowing the door to now close, leaving it alone in the room.

When it finally goes to sleep, I do what I tend to, and embrace it in its slumber, finding myself with a view into its dream. I usually see something I can latch onto when I see dolls dream, at least some kind of visual I can make sense of, some kind of expression of their memories, or emotions. Tonight, I see the mail doll, at its knees in the middle of an empty expanse. It's crying there, silently, given its lack of a voice box. When I look around, I see nothing as far as I can see. Then, I try to reach out to it...

"You poor thing. No witch, no name, no home, you've had to fend for yourself for as long as you remember, haven't you?" I wrap the arms I know can't be real around it.

The weeping stops as it jolts up, its gaze turning and looking at... me...

I hang on my breath as I make what can only be described as eye contact, "Can you... see me?"

#empty spaces #not a person #dolls #dollposting #writing #doll #dollblr #cw depersonalization

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drenix004 · 9 days ago

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𝐏𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐘 - Part 1

141 masterlist Pluckley masterlist Teaser

Task forcé 141 x Oc!female (Au)

❝Small town, big hell❞

CWs -> fluf, angst, drugs, death, obsession, blood, torture, harassment, mental issues, eventual smut, Possessiveness, manipulation, kidnapping, themes related to cannibalism, drinking blood, Dark themes, among others.

->English is not my first language, there may be grammar or spelling errors.

W/c: 1,3k

The mist had turned into a drizzle as they entered the village. The streets were typical of any English town, just like the houses’ architecture. Modern designs were nowhere to be found; the predominant styles were Tudor and Cottage. If she happened to spot even a single house or building with a modern or industrial design, she would hit the accelerator and leave the place without a second thought. The style left a bitter taste in her mouth due to the memories it brought back.

She glanced at the rearview mirror again. The two children were pressed against the window, watching the place as they moved along. From their body language, she could tell they weren’t entirely uncomfortable, which was a good sign.

“Make sure your blankets are secure,” she said, turning a corner. The blankets she had wrapped them in were almost on the floor. “It’s cold, and we’re not used to this weather.”

“Nor to such an… open environment,” one of them replied, looking at her through the mirror. “Where are we going?”

“He marked a place on the map; I think it’s an inn.” She stopped before an intersection and looked at the map again.

“And is it safe to go there in the first place?” the other one asked. “Won’t people look at us strangely?” He touched his shaved head unconsciously, feeling uneasy. In fact, all three of them had shaved heads. “Can we trust him?”

“It’s the only option we have, considering we don’t have any papers. A hotel would be more complicated,” she answered the first question as she moved forward and turned right at the intersection. The inn had to be further ahead. “And as for him... we have no choice but to trust him. For better or worse, he got us out of there.”

The car fell silent for several minutes until they reached the inn’s parking lot. The White Horse—the white cursive letters contrasted with the Tudor design of the building. The two children shifted uncomfortably in the backseat. The second child’s question lingered in their minds.

“Will people look at us weird?” the second one repeated.

She turned off the car, folded the map, and left it on the glove compartment. Then she grabbed the bag from the passenger seat and began searching for something.

“Not necessarily. Plus, we have these.” She pulled out three wool hats. The two smaller ones had animal ears—a rabbit and a bear. The largest one, which would be hers, was plain. Turning in her seat, she showed them the hats. “We can hide the lack of hair, and since it’s cold, it won’t look suspicious.”

The children took the hats and put them on. She did the same, placing the bag on her lap again, searching for some identification—anything that could help them blend in. It would be suspicious if she had no documents for herself or the kids. She rummaged through the items absentmindedly, deciding to check more thoroughly later.

Finally, she found a woman’s wallet. Tossing the bag back onto the seat, she hurriedly searched it. Inside, there was cash, three bank cards from unfamiliar banks, and the item she was looking for: an ID card. Her photo was on the front, along with a name and surname.

“What about her?” the first child asked.

All three turned their attention to the baby carrier between the two kids. She slipped the ID into her jacket pocket.

“We’ll cover the top with a blanket to protect her from the rain.” She unfastened her seatbelt; the children did the same. Pulling a portable umbrella from the bag, she closed it. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

She stepped out, making sure to close the door properly before opening the umbrella. Inside, one child grabbed the bag from the front seat, while the other unfastened the baby carrier’s straps and covered the top with a blanket.

The oldest opened the door, letting the first child out. She handed him the umbrella and leaned halfway into the car to retrieve the baby. She lifted the carrier with one hand and took the umbrella again with the other, waiting for the second child to get out.

After confirming the door was securely closed, the children pressed closely against her, trying to stay dry and unwilling to stray far from her side.

“There’s a car,” one of them said as they walked toward the entrance. She glanced at what appeared to be a gray SUV with tinted windows, parked a few meters away.

“They’re probably waiting for someone or looking for the same thing we are. Don’t think too much about it,” she reassured them. Once at the entrance, she carefully set the baby carrier on the ground and closed the umbrella. “Here.” She handed the umbrella to the child who wasn’t carrying the bag.

Lifting the carrier again, she opened the door for the children to enter first.

A wave of warm air greeted them, making the younger ones sigh in relief. The place looked clean and spacious. The reception desk was made of beautiful brown wood, with a sofa set and a small central table in the middle of the room. Plants adorned a few corners, soft lighting filled the space, and a fireplace with several wooden ornaments added warmth.

“Let’s sit down first.” She guided the children to one of the larger sofas. Carefully placing the baby carrier beside her, she lifted the blanket slightly to check on the sleeping baby. Her breathing was normal, and her expression was peaceful. She lowered the blanket again—she didn’t feel comfortable letting others see her.

The reception area was empty, but she was sure that if she rang the small bell on the counter, someone would come. Which, of course, she did.

After a few minutes, an older woman appeared behind the counter.

“Welcome to The White Horse,” the woman greeted, typing something on the computer. “I’ll need any document with your name and registration number, please.”

“Of course.” She reached into her jacket pocket and handed over the ID.

The woman paused for a moment, staring at the identification. Her black eyes lingered on her for a few seconds before glancing at the children and then back at her.

“Calliope…” The woman looked at her closely when she said the name before offering a warm smile and resuming her typing. Calliope tensed slightly. The woman’s gaze suggested she knew things about her.

“I have a reservation under your name. It’s a large room with a king-size bed.”

“For how long, if I may ask? I made the reservation while half-asleep and don’t quite remember.” She lied. He must have made the reservation in a hurry without mentioning it.

“The system says two months.”

From a hidden drawer, the woman retrieved a key with the room number.

“The room is on the second floor. I’ll need you to sign this form.” She handed her the key and a sheet of paper.

Calliope took the pen the woman offered and began filling in the blanks. Every now and then, she glanced at the children, who sat on either side of the baby carrier.

A door opened somewhere behind her, likely another guest arriving. She paid it no mind.

“Mary, I’ve stocked the room with firewood,” a dark-skinned man said, approaching the corner of the counter; Calliope stood in the center.

“Thank you for coming despite the weather, Gaz,” the woman replied, handing him a coat.

Calliope remained silent, finishing the form and taking the key.

“Say hi to Price for me.”

“No problem, Mary.”

The children stood up as she approached them. She felt the man’s gaze following her as she turned toward the stairs, thankful the woman kept him distracted with a conversation about someone named Price and his wood.

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#141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #tf 141 x reader #poly!task force 141 x reader #tf 141 x you #poly 141 #task force 141 fluff #141 x oc #task force x oc #soft yandere #dark!141 #dark beginnings #fem oc

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packagingbypolymer · 6 months ago

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Things To Keep in Mind When Ordering Paper Bags For Our Business

Selecting the right paper bag for your business is more complex than it might seem. As a powerful marketing tool, it can significantly enhance your product's value.Your paper bag can make your products seem more valuable to customers. To help you choose the best bag, we’ve put together some important things to think about.

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#White Paper Carrier Bag #Handle Paper Carrier Bags #Paper Carrier Bags #Paper Bags #Brown Paper Carrier Bag

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bella-rose29 · 1 year ago

Text

Pretty

Anthony Lockwood x gn!reader

requested by anon: Saw your post about Lockwood ideas so here's one! Reader and Lockwood have an extremely close call on a case and in the heat of the moment, Lockwood ends up kissing the reader.

Made this one gn since no gender was specified! hopefully I haven't messed up anywhere with that (pls let me know tho)

I am also so so sorry about how long this took anon 😭 I have nobody to blame but myself for that I won't lie

lockwood has his tea like Cameron and I'm convinced it's a fact

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: swearing, they fight some visitors

Tag list: @anathemaloren, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @dangelnleif, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @ran23sblog, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @wandamaximoffbae, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife

As always, let me know here if you'd like to be added to/removed from my Lockwood and Co tag list, or send me a message! <3

(not my image, also I'm fully aware of how many times I use this one)

"Hey, I've just put the kettle on, d'you want tea?" Lucy chirped as Y/n entered the kitchen, paperwork in hand. They nodded gratefully, shoving the papers onto the table and flopping in a chair. "What's all that for?" Lucy asked, gesturing to the multiple files now scattered in front of Y/n.

"The case tonight. Lockwood's refusing to help me with the research, the little shit. Says he's got 'important business' to go on, whatever that means." They frowned, remembering how he'd been essentially ignoring them all day. "Did I do something to upset him?" they asked Lucy, looking up at the girl.

"Don't think so. Why?"

"Don't know. Just, he hasn't talked to me all day, so I-" Y/n was cut off by Lucy's snort of laughter, and their frown deepened. "What?! Why are you laughing?!"

"He hasn't talked to you all day? God, just tell him you like him already!"

Y/n flushed at her words, and threw a scrunched up piece of paper at Lucy. "Shut up," they mumbled, crossing their arms and slouching in their chair. Lucy only laughed more, handing over a cup of tea and sitting down next to her friend as she started to rifle through the papers. "What are you doing?"

"Helping you out, silly. If Lockwood won't do it, I will. You'll be so unprepared otherwise, and I can't have my best friend dying yet."

"Thanks, Luce."

"Sure," she shrugged, studying a news article. "Dunno why you like him though. He can be a monumental tw-"

"Hi Lucy, Y/n," Lockwood said, stepping through the door with carrier bags in his hands. He looked at them, wondering why they were suddenly quiet when he'd heard the two of them talking before he walked in, but when he saw the kettle boiled on the side that was ready for him to make his tea to his liking he forgot all about it. Dumping the bags, he moved to the cupboards and reached for the honey, pouring the right amount into the mug. Lockwood heard the scrape of a chair and a whispered protest as he added the white sugar (one teaspoon), and turning around he found Lucy getting up to leave and Y/n tugging on her arm and begging her to stay. Lucy had a wicked grin, though, and in one swift movement she'd unhanded herself from Y/n and skipped out of the door, and a moment later her footsteps could be heard on the stairs.

Y/n was glaring at the door, as if it would bring Lucy back to the kitchen, but when Lockwood sat down next to them with his cup of tea in one hand and the deft fingers of his other picking up a pile of papers, their expression immediately softened.

"Glad you finally felt you could grace the plebs with your presence, my lord," they joked, hoping he would apologise for being absent all day. He cracked a smile, shaking his head as he chuckled.

"Can't be around all the time, can I? You'll boost my ego too much."

"I would argue we reign your ego in. Honestly, I'm suffocating on it right now." Their eyes were wide in mock frankness, making Lockwood laugh more. "Seriously though," Y/n said when he'd calmed down a little. "Where were you?" They tried to not sound too hurt, but Lockwood picked up on it like he always did.

"I told you, I had important business-"

"What 'important business', Lockwood? Because I've had to do this research on my own, and there's way too much of it!" He at least had the good grace to look sheepish, scratching the back of his neck and mumbling something into his tea. George entered the kitchen then, pausing whatever conversation Y/n and Lockwood had been having. He stood in the doorway, picking up on the strange atmosphere but not knowing what to do about it, and shook his head as he went to make a sandwich. None of them talked, and George kept casting the two of them weird looks as he moved around the kitchen, looking like he wanted to say something but never getting that far, until eventually he finished making his lunch and left, closing the door with a soft click (and a loud protest from the hinges) behind him. Y/n had turned back to their papers, attempting to read over the documents and figure out the history of the building before they headed out for the evening. "Are you at least gonna help me now?" they sighed, looking back up at him. He nodded, washing out the mug of tea that he'd downed in the last few minutes.

They sat in silence for a while after that, only talking when one of them found something interesting or worth making note of. Lockwood stopped rifling through papers at one point, file limp in his hand while he studied his coworker. "I'm sorry," he said, and although his voice was quiet it startled Y/n. "I just- I know I'm difficult sometimes- okay, fine, a lot of the time," he amended at Y/n's raised eyebrows. "But I really did have important business to attend to. I was stocking up on equipment for tonight. Not much, just a couple of flares."

"And that took you the whole day? George has only just come down for lunch and it's three in the afternoon."

"I was also..." he sighed through his nose, irritation flitting across his face. "I was also getting this," he said, rushing the words as he yanked something out of his jacket pocket. How he'd ever got the item in there in the first place Y/n had no clue, since they weren't aware of Lockwood having pockets that large.

"What is it?" they asked, skeptical of the rectangular object they now held. It had been expertly wrapped, with a nice little bow on the front, and when Lockwood simply gestured for them to open it they peeled the paper off, revealing the book inside. "Is this-"

"Took me ages to find a store that had it. I know how much you've been obsessing about getting it so I figured since I was out I might as well. I didn't realise how long it would take though, and I didn't exactly want to admit that to you either."

"Lockwood, you really didn't have to do-"

"Shush, or I'll return it." That shut them up, making them clutch the book close to their chest as if to prevent him from taking it away. "Come on. We've got work to do."

~~~

Half an hour later Lockwood was making another cup of tea for both of them, laughing as Y/n complained about some of the details (or lack thereof) in the building plans.

"I mean, there's an entire room that just... doesn't exist on the floor plans, even though we went to the house! How does that happen? It's not even an extension- oh, thank you," they were interrupted when Lockwood passed them their mug, hot tea warming Y/n's hands as they gripped the beverage. His hand lingered on the handle a moment longer than was necessary, his gaze catching on theirs, and Y/n held their breath when their fingers brushed. Lockwood seemed to snap out of whatever daze he was in, jerking his arm back, clearing his throat, and shuffling over to his own seat.

It was weird; they'd brushed past each other on the stairs and had curled up next to each other on sofas before, and held (very limited) eye contact every day (it was awkward holding it for more than a few seconds, even with Lockwood), so why was this time any different?

They spent the next few hours in more silence, the atmosphere mildly awkward as they worked, and by the time they pulled up to the house in the back of the taxi not long before sundown Y/n thought they might burst from the sheer amount of tension they could feel.

They had always been an overthinker, analysing minuscule details that, in reality, probably didn't matter, but for some reason stuck in Y/n's head for months after. It didn't help that they had feelings for Lockwood, since it made every touch or lingering glance have a stronger effect on their overthinking tendencies, and very often took them out of the real world and into their own head.

Which was unfortunate when they needed to be very much in the real world to fight Visitors.

In fairness, the man that owned the property had told them (with a shocking amount of certainty) that there were two Type Ones, one Shade and one Lurker, and while Y/n was inclined to disagree that he knew best, Lockwood was flashing a winning smile and grasping the keys, assuring the owner that Type Ones were nothing the pair of them couldn't handle.

They set up their chains and defences, did an initial reading of the whole house (the stairs came back as the coldest at nine degrees, with the upstairs family bathroom a close second at ten - worrying for the early hour), then returned to the kitchen and put the kettle on, cracking open a packet of biscuits.

"Are you sure about what he said? I mean he's what, late thirties to early forties? How reliable is he for identifying Type Ones if he won't be able to see them?"

"Look, we have no reason to distrust hi-"

"I literally just gave a reason."

"Okay, fine. No reason to distrust him yet. Everything we've seen so far from our initial readings is pointing to Type Ones, and we're Lockwood and Co. This isn't anything we can't handle." Y/n had been about to protest again, to say something about how the stairs and bathroom really shouldn't have been so cold this early on, but then he had smiled at them, one reserved purely for his friends, and they melted, all thoughts of danger gone out of their head.

Perhaps they should have fought harder against him, or perhaps they shouldn't have become too wrapped up in the moments from the kitchen earlier, but either way they didn't notice the Limbless until it had nearly pushed its misshapen body through their head.

~~~

Lockwood had shoved them out the way, their bodies rolling over each other as they tumbled down the hallway, the air shifting as the Limbless soared over them.

Lockwood ended up on top, his body shielding Y/n's, and he lifted his head up from where it had previously been in their neck, asking a desperate "Are you okay?" They nodded in response, too shaken to do much else, and then Lockwood was up, yanking their arm to pull them up beside him as he drew his rapier. Y/n did the same, hands trembling slightly as they finally registered the miasma that felt like it was suffocating them.

"Limbless, but we can handle that. You getting anything that can help?" He was referencing Y/n's Touch, but when they pressed their hand to the bannister experimentally the feeling of fear that washed over them was so strong they stumbled back, bumping into Lockwood.

"Shit, that was not fun," they said, grimacing at the headache they could already feel forming. "We can't use flares, Lockwood, it's too cramped in here. We're gonna have to draw it away if we can, then find the Source. It's got to be the stairs somehow, I just can't figure it out."

"Okay. Here's the plan," he started, but Y/n was unfocused, staring down the hallway over his shoulder.

"Lockwood?"

"You figure out where the Source is, I'll hold it off-"

"Lockwood?"

"-and then we'll be out of here and back home with a cup of tea within the hour."

"LOCKWOOD!"

"What? Why are you shou-"

Y/n grabbed his face in both of their hands, pushing him around to see what was behind him.

"Shit," he said, paling. Where there had only been a single Limbless to deal with before, the number of Visitors had gone up, with Shades and Lurkers that the owner had mentioned earlier joining the now two Limbless that were hovering at the end of the hallway. The feeling of miasma was washing over the two of them like a tidal wave, and Y/n pressed a hand to their mouth to try and stop throwing up. "We can still do this?" he said, although it sounded more like a question than an inspirational chat to his teammate.

"Lockwood, we need to just go. There's no way we can do this on our own, your pride be damned."

"Okay, okay. We'll collect as much of our kit as we can then, a lot of it is new and I don't want it being wasted. Do you think you're up for it? You look very ill," he frowned, concern for Y/n working its way into every movement of his body.

"Can't we just ditch the kit and get out?"

"As much as I'd love to, we are incredibly under equipped right now and have to pass through the kitchen anyway. We'd do well to have a few extra supplies on us, don't you think?" His voice was gentle, nothing condescending about his question, and Y/n found themselves nodding when he searched their eyes for an answer. His whole body relaxed, and then he was grabbing their hand and slowly retreating towards the kitchen, hoping not to alert the Visitors to their presence.

They were doing well, nearly past the kitchen threshold, up until Lockwood brushed his thumb over the back of Y/n's hand and they stumbled slightly, scuffing their foot on the floorboards and kicking a cabinet.

The Limbless (both of them) snapped their bloated heads to face the two agents, and Lockwood and Y/n only had a brief second to share a look when the ghosts came soaring towards them before he was tugging them into the kitchen, slamming the door behind them and rushing past the counter.

"Pick up what you can, anything to defend yourself with!" he shouted, wheeling around to grab a bag. They made a move towards the iron chains and added a ring to the circle that they'd already made, doubling up the strength of the invisible wall, then dragged in the kit they could reach and stood within the circle.

"Lockwood! Get in here!"

He made a mad dash for them, eyes wide and face flushed from the cold that was now creeping in to the kitchen. "Okay, what now? We'll be protected for a little while but we can't stay for-"

"Calm down, alright? We can sort out our kit in here, quickly, and then use the back door just there. We might have to leave some of these chains behind though, they're pretty heavy."

"Temperature's dropped significantly. That's not a good sign. Do you think there are more hauntings in here?"

"I wouldn't put it past this place. Besides, it's eleven. The others all came out quite early." They crouched down, starting to work methodically through the bags, but Lockwood stayed standing.

"What would I do without you, hey?"

Y/n tried not to flush at the compliment, remembering that the previous two times they'd been caught up in analysing everything that happened between the two of them they'd invoked danger, and continued going through the bags. "Can you help please? Instead of standing there like a lemon."

It took them five minutes to finish up, bags being zipped and thrown over shoulders, belts checked for stock and rapiers drawn. They would have to leave the chains behind, which was a shame, but necessary if they wanted to be able to move quickly. "On three?" Lockwood asked, glancing over his shoulder to check with Y/n. They nodded, bracing themselves for the run. Lockwood started counting down, and just as he said "Three" the kitchen door blew off its hinges.

~~~

"Shit! Go!" A Poltergeist, manifesting in the kitchen and manipulating the room if the many knives that were now floating in the air were anything to go by. The back door was only a couple of metres away, but the real question was whether they could outrun the blades.

They almost did, launching themselves out the exit and slamming the door shut behind them, and Lockwood breathed a sigh of relief until he saw the blood on Y/n's arm. "It's fine," they said when they caught him looking, moving away from the door. "We should get out of here."

He didn't say anything, instead sheathing his rapier and dropping the bag he was holding to grab Y/n's face and kiss them. Y/n almost dropped their own things, about to reach up and draw him in further, but he was pulling back before they could, picking up the kit and moving away from the house. "Come on! We need to find a taxi!" Y/n stood gaping at his retreating form before they heard the wailings of some of the Visitors inside and quickly followed after him.

~~~

The taxi ride home was awkward.

Lockwood wasn't looking at Y/n, and they were starting to feel increasingly uncomfortable with the amount of silence that enveloped the two of them.

"I'm sorry," Lockwood said, making Y/n jump slightly even though his voice was quiet.

"...What for?"

"For- I shouldn't have- I- For kissing you." He still wasn't looking at them, so he couldn't see the stifled smile on their face.

"It's okay, Lockwood."

"No, I should have just got us out of there instead of- I put us in danger and that was stupid of me," he turned to face them, expression earnest. "And I don't even know how you..." he trailed off, blushing.

"It wasn't... I wouldn't mind doing it again, if that's... where you're going?" Y/n was surprised at the confidence they had to admit that, given how bad they were normally at expressing their feelings for him. Lockwood blushed slightly, his cheeks tinted pink, and his eyes widened.

"Uh- okay," he said, hiding his smile behind his hand as he braced his elbow on the door. "Are you sure you're okay? You're bleeding a lot."

"I'm sure it's fine. I think it's only shallow, and most of the blood is dried now. If it'll make you feel better you can bandage me up when we get back."

"Okay. I'll put the kettle on, too. I really need a cup of tea right now."

~~~

True to his word, Lockwood put the kettle on the stove and grabbed two mugs out of the cupboard before heading to the bathroom for the medical kit. He then patched Y/n's arm up (who was right about it only being shallow, but that didn't stop Lockwood fussing over them), concentrating far more than he needed to but taking his time with the dressing in a way that made Y/n's heart flutter at his attentiveness.

Now they sat at the kitchen table with steaming mugs of tea, a plate of biscuits between them as they talked about both everything and nothing, the sun rising and casting the kitchen in a golden light. At some point Lucy appeared, making herself her own cup of tea and heading back upstairs to the attic afterwards, murmuring a sleepy 'morning' to her friends as she shut the door behind her.

Y/n shut their eyes, soaking in the freshly made cup of tea (Lucy had made a large pot for the three of them) and the small warmth that the sun pouring through the window provided. They could feel Lockwood watching them, and sure enough when Y/n cracked an eye open he was focused on them, a soft smile on his face while he sipped his tea. "What?" they asked, a smile of their own forming.

"Nothing. You just look really... really pretty."

"Pretty?" Y/n asked, and Lockwood blushed a little, spluttering as he tried to explain himself.

"I don't know how else to describe you! I can come up with something else if you'd prefer, I just thought it fit! You know, with the light on your face and you looked really peaceful and lovely and..." he trailed off into unintelligible mumbles, turning to stare at the thinking cloth instead of Y/n's face as his blush grew brighter. They laughed in response, leaning forward across the small space between them to grab Lockwood by the tie and pull him in for a kiss. It was short and sweet, but still left the two of them breathless and flushed, and the resultant smile on Lockwood's face was well worth the amount of nervous butterflies in Y/n's stomach.

"You're pretty too, Lockwood."

#lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood x you

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solastia · 10 months ago

Text

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Y/N (OFC)

Warnings: None Currently. Will be smut later on. Perhaps a small warning for the overuse of musical symbolism, because I'm cheesy like that. Also trying out a different POV for reader view.

Summary: Y/N and Yoongi embark on a whimsical journey of love, laughter, and cat-induced chaos. Their romance has led to a shared living space, and now they navigate the highs and lows of cohabitating bliss. AKA: A series of slice-of-life drabbles to help me get in a writing mood when I'm having trouble, and to help me grow with my writing. And it's about Yoongi, surprise!

PART ONE

* * *

Y/N's fingers tightened around the handle of the carrier, her knuckles white against the black mesh. Shadow, a ball of fluff and attitude, pawed at the confines of his temporary prison with a soft, persistent thud. The building loomed overhead, a modern monolith of glass and steel that caught the dying rays of sunlight.

"Big day, huh, furball?" she muttered to Shadow, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest. The cat replied with an indignant meow, as if to chastise her for the understatement.

She let out a huff of laughter, the sound lost amidst the honking taxis and chatter of pedestrians. The city was alive, its pulse quickening her own. She swallowed, the anticipation tangling with nerves like headphone wires in a pocket.

"Hope you don't get vertigo," Y/N said, squinting up at the top floors where Yoongi's apartment nestled in the sky.

With one last reassuring pat on the carrier, Y/N sucked in a breath, tasting the autumn air—crisp and laced with the scent of roasted chestnuts from a nearby vendor. Shadow, ever the opportunist, chose that moment to launch another assault on the carrier door, shaking it with tiny, fierce jabs.

"Easy, Shadow. Save the drama for inside, okay?" she chided, her lips twitching into a smile despite the jittery dance of her heart.

"Yoongi's going to love this," she whispered more to herself than to the cat, imagining the quiet idol’s face lighting up at their arrival. It'd be a scene right out of a movie—except for the part where Shadow would likely attempt to scale Yoongi's curtains at the first opportunity.

"Here goes nothing." Taking a step forward, Y/N squared her shoulders, ready to turn the page to their next chapter.

Y/N's sneakers squeaked against the marble floor of the lobby, echoing off the high ceilings. The doorman tipped his hat with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. She gave him a nod, her grip on Shadow's carrier tightening as she crossed the threshold, the glass doors whispering shut behind her.

The elevator dinged its arrival, and she stepped inside, thumb jabbing the button for Yoongi's floor. The numbers climbed, and with each passing floor, her heart did a corresponding tap dance. By the top floor, it was a full-blown salsa routine.

"Should've brought a paper bag," Y/N quipped as the doors slid open, though her voice wobbled.

She stepped into the hall, plush carpet swallowing the sound of her footsteps. Apartment numbers glided by, a silent countdown to the moment of truth. Her hand hovered over the doorbell but then balled into a fist. No turning back now. Three sharp knocks rapped against the wood.

"This will be fine. It's totally a great idea," she whispered. "You love him. Nothing will go wrong."

Shadow chose that second to renew his protest, pawing frantically at the carrier door. The clatter was a mini drumroll, underscoring her quickened pulse.

"Traitor," Y/N accused playfully, shaking her head. "You just had to add your two cents, didn't you?"

As she straightened up, the cat settled down, as if pleased with his contribution to the orchestration of their grand entrance. Y/N smirked, rolling her eyes at the tiny tyrant.

"Let's hope he's ready for us."

The door creaked on its hinges, a sliver of the polished interior teasing her eyes before Yoongi's figure filled the frame. His grin was lopsided, devilish—a silent welcome that sent a shockwave through Y/N's nerves, disarming them one by one.

"Hey," he said, voice a low melody that seemed to vibrate straight to her bones.

"Hi." Her own word was barely a whisper, a stark contrast to the cacophony inside her head just moments ago.

With a fluid motion, as if they had rehearsed it a thousand times, Yoongi's arms wrapped around her. The city's noise fell away, leaving only the thud of her heart and the warmth of his embrace.

"Missed me?" His breath fanned her ear, teasing.

"Maybe," she countered, the corner of her mouth quirking up. "Just a smidge."

"Good." And then his lips were on hers, a kiss that sparked and sizzled, igniting something wild and fervent between them. It was a deep dive into uncharted waters, yet somehow exactly where she wanted to be.

The heat of Yoongi's lips melded with Y/N's, a silent promise woven through each caress. His murmurs vibrated against her mouth, a husky timbre that quickened her pulse.

"Yoongi," she breathed out, laughter dancing in her voice. "You're making Shadow jealous."

From the depths of his carrier, Shadow voiced his indignation, a plaintive meow cutting through their bubble. The cat shifted, the carrier swinging slightly as if to punctuate his displeasure.

"Sorry, buddy," Yoongi chuckled, not breaking the kiss, his words a warm whisper on her lips. "Guess we're both getting lucky tonight."

"Hope you don't mean with the cat," Y/N quipped, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Very funny," he retorted, his grin tangible even in their embrace.

With a strength that belied his quiet nature, Yoongi took the carrier from her and hoisted it securely into one arm, the other still cradling Y/N close. He stepped backward, guiding them over the threshold.

"Welcome home," he murmured as the door clicked shut behind them, a definitive sound that marked the start of something new. Something theirs.

"Feels like the start of a sitcom," Y/N mused, the corners of her mouth lifting into a smile. "‘Two lovers and a moody cat.'"

"Bestseller for sure," Yoongi said, his eyes lighting up with shared amusement. "As long as I'm not the moody cat."

"Jury's still out on that one," she teased, reaching up to flick his nose gently.

"Ouch," Yoongi feigned hurt, but there was no hiding the contentment in his gaze, the softness that came from being utterly at ease.

"Come on," he said, nudging her forward with a nudge of his head. "Let's explore our love nest."

"Lead the way, landlord," Y/N replied, excitement bubbling within her. They were home, truly home, and nothing could diminish the simple joy of that fact—not even Shadow's disapproving soundtrack.

Stepping into the living room, Y/N's gaze swept across the expanse of Yoongi's apartment. Plush designer couches whispered invitations for lazy afternoons, while a sleek entertainment system promised nights saturated in sound and cinema.

"Did you rob a furniture store or what?" Y/N asked, her fingers trailing over the velvety armrest of a chair. "It's only been a couple days since I was here last, and half of this is new."

"Only the best for us," Yoongi replied with a pride that was endearing rather than boastful.

"Us," she echoed, testing the word like it was new, exciting—because it was. No longer just Yoongi's space, the rooms around them were a blank canvas for their joint story. A place not just to house his grand piano but also her collection of quirky mugs. Their domain, where music notes would mix with soft whispers and shared secrets.

"Will your equipment survive the invasion of my scented candles?" she joked, half-wondering if he'd realized the full extent of her home fragrance obsession.

"Let’s hope they’re fireproof," he quipped back, eyeing the carrier where Shadow had begun a low-grade growl of impatience.

"Careful," Y/N warned with a mock sternness, "Shadow's got a thing against sarcasm."

"Does he now?" Yoongi chuckled, kneeling to let the disgruntled cat out. "We'll have to work on that."

"Good luck," she said, watching as Shadow sniffed suspiciously at the foreign environment. "He's more stubborn than a melody in a minor key."

"Guess we're all gonna have to learn some new tunes," Yoongi mused, standing up to wrap an arm around her shoulders.

"Guess so." Y/N leaned into him, her heart keeping time with the possibility thrumming through the room. This was theirs, a symphony waiting to be composed, note by loving note.

#bts #bts fanfic #yoongi #solastia #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #writing #min yoongi #ofc #bts x reader #x reader #yoongi x reader #reader insert #fem reader

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clubdionysus · 10 months ago

Text

[BAD DECISION #28] Avoidance

warnings: a lil dry hump !! neck kisses!! undeserved!!, dates with other people!! waaa!!! this entire section of bd always hurts my heart lol

wc: 10k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

When Jimin opens the apartment door at quarter past four on Sunday afternoon, he's stuck for words. Dressed down in a pair of jeans and a simple white shirt, it's not hard to see how he gets anyone he wants. It's curious to think of what could have been had you just had a little more chemistry. Irrelevant, though. Not worth thinking about.

"Someone's looking chirpy today," he hums as he invites you in without a second thought.

Hair down, glitter on, and wearing far too few layers for the weather, you're smiling. Paper bag in one hand, coffee carrier in the other, the only thing that seems out of place is... well... your happiness.

Jimin will never complain about it, but he knows that Jeongguk monumentally fucked up less than 36 hours ago. You should not look this elated.

"Should I not be?" you reply, seemingly ignorant to the turmoil Jeongguk feels like he's putting you through.

You're just as much a product of your relationship traumas as Jeongguk is of his. Knowing him the way that you do - as intimately as you do - you know that he's done something he shouldn't have. He's fucked up. Though you're not aware of exactly what he's done, nor to what extent it will hurt you, you know that it will .

When you knock on his door and don't wait for him to answer it, instead walking straight on in, his wrongdoings are written all over his face.

Eyes wide, lips pouty, hair a mess as it waves around his features, he hadn't been expecting you.

Leaving him on read was childish, you'll admit to that, but you just didn't wanna give him straight answers. Petty? Maybe. Deserved? Definitely.

"Hello," you greet with far more pep in your step than he expects. "Oh, you look like shit."

He grimaces. "Hey, Byeol."

"I'm not staying, don't worry, just came to drop you off some fuel," you smile, setting the coffee and paper bag down beside him. "An americano, double shot -" you nod towards the drink "- and a protein bowl from the poke place near your gym. Figured you wouldn't have eaten properly today."

He hates that you're correct.

"You look nice," he says, because apparently that's relevant. "And thanks."

"Good," you say instead of thank you. "I wasn't trying to look horrible."

Jeongguk just smiles. Nods. So much he wants to say, and yet-

"Will you stay for a bit?"

You're so pretty, Jeongguk thinks, when you shake your head, glitter catching in the light, hair waving ever so delicately. He is incredibly conflicted. Knows that you don't look at your friends in the way he's looking at you, nibbling down on his bottom lip, stars in his eyes.

And then he remembers what he did. Shame flushes his face, the torrent so heavy that he has to look away. The pressure of such a wave renders him unable to catch his breath - until your hands are on his shoulders and your legs are parting over his.

The way you straddle his lap and sink into such comfort on the tops of his thighs is unlike anything he's ever known. You melt into him like softened butter on warm bread, and he thinks it's where you belong.

"You've gotta study," you tell him quietly, as if you're not deliberately trying to get him a little riled up. You're not even sure why you're doing it. You're never normally this forward with him unless there's a bird involved - and yet you wanna prove to yourself that you are still wanted, even if he does want someone else a little more. It's pathetic, and you know it - but old habits die hard. You've got Seokjin to thank for these behaviours. "When's the exam? Tuesday, right?"

He nods, stroking the tops of your thighs, before looping his arms behind your back. There's no calculation to his movements. They come naturally, like the contraction of his lungs, or his laughter whenever you ask him questions that can easily be googled.

It's so easy, he thinks, being with you. Easiest thing in the world. Doesn't know how he sought out comfort before he knew you. Wonders if he was ever truly comfortable.

"Tuesday," he replies, as you toy with the hair around the nape of his neck.

The lighting in his room is low, like it so often is. Just makes you wish for Tuesday to come quicker.

"Will we celebrate?" you ask. "Your freedom?"

"It's a Tuesday," he simply shrugs. "Everyone will have work the next day."

You won't. You booked Wednesday off a few weeks ago in preparation for his exam. Hadn't told him, 'cause he was stressed at the time. Still is, but seems to be coping a hell of a lot better than he was before.

Or perhaps it's just something else consuming him, instead. Or someone.

And so with this in mind, you don't tell him.

"Well," you consider out loud. "You should still celebrate. Have a nice meal, or something."

It's unsubtle, the way Jeongguk's eyes drop to your lips when you say this.

"Not like that," you scold.

He feigns innocence, but his cheeky grin gives him away. "Don't know what you're talking about."

It would be easy to let old habits make themselves just as comfortable as you are on Jeongguk's lap - but he did something silly, you think. Has lessons to learn.

Gripping his cheeks, squishing his grin into a less-than-pretty pout, you get a little closer. Smirk.

"I'm not on your menu, Gguk. Too expensive."

He wants to scowl at this, but you've still got his cheeks pinched between your thumb and fingers. His brows furrow, but the expression can't take hold of his face. Instead, his sweet front teeth are on full display, and you're giggling.

It's music to his ears, but he doesn't let it show. Wants to keep you like this.

Instead of indulging him, you loosen your grip. Push him back a little as you do so, and he just lets you. Just like he lets you get up off his lap, his hands around your back dropping with little to no resistance.

He lets you leave, 'cause he'll never force you to stay. Your own free will is more important than his own selfish desires.

"Byeol, about yester-" Jeongguk begins but is cut off by the shake of your head. You don't wanna hear his excuses for his bad decisions. Don't even wanna know what they were. Tell him as such.

"Don't."

Part of you thinks you should stay silent, but the rest of you doesn't want to play games. Within the parameters of your entanglement with Jeongguk, he's not really done anything wrong. Your rules have always regarded yourselves, not other people. Whatever he did wasn't great, but it wasn't wrong .

Or at least, that's how you'll rationalise it to yourself.

"I don't want to know," you say.

He frowns. It's your past experiences with Seokjin that have wired you this way, and it frustrates him that he's being tarred with the same brush.

"Honestly," you continue, sensing his slight annoyance. He's not annoyed at you, not in the slightest. Is just annoyed by the entire situation, but never at you. "You and me... we're not together, but we are friends. We care about each other, yeah?"

He nods. Swallows. Cares so much.

The way you're dancing around the point is childish, but the conversation is awkward, whether or not you want it to be. It's part of the reason why you don't want to discuss things fully with him. Makes you feel all uneasy. Nervous. You hate nerves just as much as he does.

"Okay, and you wouldn't do anything that hurts me, no?" You ask, letting the final syllables linger a little hopefully in the air. Jeongguk doesn't understand what you mean by this. The confusion is written all over his face. It makes you smile. Cute, you think. "Not like... emotionally. That's not what I mean. I mean as in, you wouldn't... y'know... you wouldn't fuck someone else and then fuck me straight after, right? 'Cause, like, we don't use condoms, Gguk. If you got somethin-"

He vehemently shakes his head. "No."

Wouldn't dream of fucking anyone else unprotected. Wouldn't dream of fucking anyone else, full stop, but that's neither here nor there.

"God, no." He doubles down. Can't believe you'd think so little of him, but he's not a saint. Knows he's done some questionable shit since Hayun's return. Lost his head a little bit and fears he might have lost you along the way, too. "But B, I-"

"But nothing," you say defiantly. Are convinced that not knowing is for the best. "As long as I know I'm safe, that's all I need to know."

What you don't know surely can't hurt you.

"Byeol-"

"Please, Jeongguk. Don't," you sigh, and then try out a little honesty. "I had to talk myself down from going off at you, like, three times yesterday. I don't wanna fight with you."

"Why?" He frowns. "Why talk yourself down?"

"Because I'll get over my hurt feelings," you shrug. "Always do. You only have one shot at this exam, and I don't want you wasting time you could be studying on trying to fix shit that doesn't even need fixing."

And I lied when I said you aren't my first priority.

"You only wanna tell me to clear your conscience. Whatever happened, happened. It's nothing either of us can change now, is it? Hmm?" you hum tenderly as you stroke his hair behind his ears. There's a soft pain behind Jeongguk's eyes as he looks at you. It's sort of devastating in a way; self-inflicted and yet he's not entirely to blame.

You're good at pushing your feelings aside. Had done it so many times for Seokjin, that it comes as second nature. Jeongguk never wants you to feel that your hurt isn't important. Knows that this is fucked up beyond belief, but doesn't know how to fix it.

"Can I say something?" He asks, because he doesn't wanna start just for you to cut him off. Also doesn't wanna subject you to information that you aren't willing to hear.

"I don't want to know what happened," you say. "It won't change anything."

Will still adore you.

Jeongguk nods a little remorsefully. Decides that it's better if he just keeps his mouth shut.

He just wanted you to know how much he regrets the chain of events that led him to your place on that night, but also knows that it comes dangerously close to a confirmation of the truth. The truth is exactly what you've asked him to withhold, so he keeps his mouth shut.

With a small sigh, Jeongguk holds one of his hands out for you to take.

Against your better judgement, you reciprocate. Let him pull you closer, again. Back to his lap. Back where you belong.

"You need to revise."

Yet you let yourself indulge in the feeling of having him beneath you, his strong thighs the perfect seat for you to perch upon.

It's so much nicer to pretend like things are still okay - so for just a moment, you will.

"Can't focus," he mumbles as your nails begin to lightly scratch his throat. Small murmurs of satisfaction echo from his throat, his eyes closing in a state of pure ecstasy. You have this way of making things feel okay, even when they're not. "Goin' outta my mind, B."

He flicks across his lips with his tongue, wetting them ever so slightly, toying with the perfect silver ring in the corner of his mouth. Sometimes when you look at Jeongguk, you're overcome by the overwhelming desire to kiss him. Slowly, gently. Just to feel the pressure of his lip ring against your plump bottom lip, and his thin yet pouty lips trapping yours between his.

Jeongguk doesn't deserve kisses.

He doesn't deserve you on his lap, doesn't deserve the respite you're offering him, doesn't deserve to feel so good when he behaved so badly over the weekend.

Yet you think he's deserving of the world; of everything good it has to offer him. You don't really hold yourself in such high regard. Think that maybe he deserves more. Are pretty certain he sought out more. Sought out her.

It shouldn't bother you in the way that it does. You're just friends.

But he's your best friend, and you feel insecure in your place as his. You want him to like you more. Value you more.

Hayun has something you can never compete with: history.

Right now, though, you have the present. It's the one thing she can't interfere with, unless she were to show up at his door.

Your nails scratch up his throat and sink into the thick wavy hair at the nape of his neck. Pull him back a little. His eyes stay shut. A small grunt escapes his lips. His dewy nose and wet lips are illuminated in his signature cosmic mood lamp, but his skin is pristine; no traces of anyone else.

No claims to him from anyone else's lips.

"Focus on me, instead," you whisper as Jeongguk is suffocated by everything you are; the scent of your hair, the languid movement of your body hiking up his thighs, the pressure of your lips against the base of his throat.

One of his hands grips your waist, while the other clutches your hair. He encourages your movements. Wants you even further up his lap. Doesn't want even a millimetre of space between your bodies. "Fuck."

Pressing dainty kisses up his neck, you know that if you really wanna get him excited, you'll need to be using your tongue. You will. Just not yet. Want him so keen for you he could cry. Don't wanna give him what he wants easily.

Truthfully, Jeongguk just wants you in any capacity he can get you. His brain is blank, switched off to everything but the weight of your body on his, and how euphoric it feels.

"Byeol," he whines, as you start to work your tongue against his throat. You'd wanted to hold off, but can't stop yourself. Just want him to feel good. Wanna be the reason he feels good. Want him to associate you with all of the good and none of the bad.

It's a desperate act; once that's thinly veiled and oh-so-obvious to everyone except you both. Jeongguk's head is so empty when your lips are on his skin that it's a miracle he's even able to grip your waist tighter and drag you further up his lap.

"Mhmm?" You hum out, questioning the call of a name you're called only by him. "You focused, Koo?"

The way he groans when you call him Koo is unrestrained. His grip in your hair intensifies. He pulls you back. Chest heaving, eyes wide and watery, his lips hang ajar as he holds your gaze.

He swallows. Nods. "Focused."

Lips pouty and a little swollen from all the kisses pressed against his throat, you smile. It's clear as anything that Jeongguk wants more. You don't want his desire to fade.

"Good," you say ambivalently. So good at feigning indifference, it's hard for him to work out what fuck is going on inside your head, these days. It's his own fault. Keeps overthinking. He knows you like the back of his hand, and needs to learn to trust his instincts a little more. Right now, they're telling him that you're just fucking with him - and they're right. You're deliberately riling him up. It's proven when you pull away, and get off his lap once more, ignoring the fact your underwear is now uncomfortably wet.

It's not your fault that the way he grips you so intently makes you feel secure and safe. He cultivates a sanctuary with his touch. You trust him.

Which is more than you ever did with Seokjin.

Yet the impact of him lingers in how you carry yourself; how you feel the need to keep Jeongguk interested in you, as if he doesn't care about more than just your body.

"Now use that newly focused mind of yours to study," you hum, a light smile lingering on your laissez-faire lips.

There's a slight sheen to his neck where your lips have been; evidence of his overindulgence in one of the finest delicacies he's ever had the luxury of experiencing. His skin is unblemished, save for one incredibly pale pink mark where you'd let your teeth sink a little into his skin. You don't imagine it will hold any permanence. Sort of regret not leaving a more significant mark.

"Oh noooo," he pouts, his faux disappointment just as endearing as he is. "I'm unfocused again."

"Again?" you laugh.

He nods. "Think I need your help."

Predictable, is Jeon Jeongguk, as he holds his hand out for you, again .

Predictable, are you, as you let him draw you closer, again .

Predictable languid hips grinding against his predictably hard lap, again .

He groans, again . Your lips vibrate against him, again . You both get a little breathless, again .

Again, and again, and again.

It's stupid, and it's desperate, and you know it - but Jeongguk likes the desperation. Likes someone wanting him as badly as you seem to do, now. Makes him feel less alone in his unreciprocated feelings.

Sex always fools him into thinking certain things mean more than they actually do. He's aware of the fatally flawed thought process, but he likes the way it feels too much to stop himself from acting on it.

"You're so good at that, B," he groans as your lips dapple his neck in the dreamiest of kisses. Tongue, teeth, lips, he wants it all. Doesn't stop you when you get a little more territorial. Knows you're probably leaving marks. Just holds you tighter. Hisses. Moans. "Just like that."

Nails scratching against his scalp, pretty posies blossoming on his neck, Jeongguk is in fucking ecstasy. The friction of your bodies together, even fully clothed, gets him excited to the point of nearly spilling over. His kisses can only reach your jaw, the angle a little off, and it frustrates him to no avail.

"Let me fuck you," he begs, hips pushing up as his grip on your waist encourages your grinding against him.

Your tongue trails up his neck, and flicks over the lobe of his ear. Makes him shudder. Whine. He fucking loves it. Teeth grazing on it, he knows you're smiling, enjoying every second of his weakness.

"You wanna fuck me, huh?" you tease. It's nice knowing that you're still desired. You want more confirmation. More validation. "Why?"

"Is that even a fucking question?" He rasps as two wildly different responses come to mind. He'll go for the safer of the two options. "Can feel how wet you are even through our clothes, B. Let me help you. Let me fuck you. I'll make you feel good. You know I will."

"Oh, so all for my benefit, eh?" you tease once more. "Not for yours at all?"

He rolls his eyes. Considers the response he didn't say.

You're the only thing that makes sense to me, these days. You make me feel safe. Calm. You're the only thing. Only one.

Will never admit it, though.

"Fuck me and find out," he smirks back. "See how quickly I'll cum. Then you'll know how much I want you, too."

"Don't think you'll last a minute," you taunt.

"Don't think I'll last thirty seconds, B," he admits. Is kinda joking, but also totally not. "Think I'll nut as soon as I'm inside you. Love your cunt. Always feels so good."

"Mhmm, just what every girl wants to hear," you say, voice laced with sarcasm.

"What can I say?" He plays up to your humour. "I'm an old-school romantic."

"I'm pretty sure that's how Prince Charming won over Cinderella," you say, all very agreeably. Will chatter absolute nonsense with Jeongguk just for the sake of it whenever you can. You enjoy it. So does he.

"What, by telling her she has a lovely cunt?"

"No, don't be vulgar," you giggle, then put on a deadly serious face. Back straight, voice stoic, you're incredibly poised. Don't even crack a smile as you say, "By nutting in her after, like, ten seconds."

"Ah of course," he grins.

"Every girl loves an underperformer."

Incorrect. If you did, you'd be in Jimin's room right now.

"Maybe I should just flunk my exam then," he jokes a little mindlessly.

"You want every girl to love you, eh?"

You're pretty certain every girl within a 5-metre radius of Jeongguk could fall in love with him. It'd be easy. Incredibly easy.

"No," Jeongguk speaks a little more solemnly now. "One's enough."

And just like that you're reminded of Hayun.

Tilting your head to the side, you're fond as you look at him. Hurts your heart a little bit that still, even now, he's devoted to her. To be loved by Jeongguk must be heavenly. Unwavering. What you wouldn't give to have someone adore you like he does her.

Ruffling his hair, you let the tension between you both crumble away. "You're such a softie."

Just like that, the moment is gone. Jeongguk purses his lips together. Shrugs. Doesn't really know what to say. Just confirms that his feelings always ruin things.

"Shut up," he smiles, but it's not as sincere as it usually is.

You study his face and let your thumbs stroke over the flushed pink marks that linger on his neck. The dainty chain around his neck hides beneath his shirt, just like you're sure the evidence of you will do too in days to come. You've never seen him in a polo-neck, but are certain you will soon.

Hidden away, the impact of you will remain a secret. Just like Seokjin hiding your conditioner in his bathroom cabinet before one of his many girls paid him a visit, Jeongguk will most likely pretend your lips have never been on his skin.

But why should anyone know about his sex life? It's no one's business. It's not like you actively want him to parade the marks left by you, it's just that you want anyone getting too close to know his bed is still warm even if he's not spoken for.

Totally not because you want Hayun knowing. Totally not that at all.

"I should let you get back to studying."

Jeongguk is silent. Nods. Doesn't stop you when you get off his lap. Just spins to face his desk once more.

"Eat your food," you remind him. "And drink your coffee. You'll thank me for it."

He nods again. "Already am thankful. I appreciate it, B."

"So don't let it go to waste," you lightly rib him. "Look after yourself, okay? Only a few more days and then you'll be free."

"Just a few more days," he agrees with a small smile.

"You're gonna smash it."

He shakes his head. Laughs softly. "You think too much of me."

"You think too little of yourself, Gguk," you say a little sternly. "No one ever succeeded by thinking they would fail - so do your revision, smash your exam, and then we can forget all about it, okay?"

The way you group yourself in with him is unintentional, but a clear indicator of the way you feel about Jeongguk. The things that bother him, bother you too. His troubles are your troubles. His successes, your successes.

Just goes with the territory.

Territory of what?

You silence your brain. Don't let it expand. It's a foolish thing to think. Stupid, and untrue, and detrimental to your friendship.

And so you leave him be. Had only ever intended on briefly stopping by. Had never meant to let things get so heated. Was a little silly to let things get so wildly out of control, when you'd planned to drop him off some food and a coffee just to let him know how much of a saint you are in comparison to the Devil in red he seems to prefer.

You wonder if she knows about his exam. Probably not.

The scornful nature of your thoughts whenever Hayun is at the forefront of your mind always leaves you feeling a little disgusted with yourself. Even when Seokjin was getting a little greedy with the cookie jar, you never berated the other women. Just yourself, for not being good enough.

You suppose the circumstances were far different, though. Hayun's proven herself to be awful to you, even if she plays nicely for Jeongguk.

He's wise in so many regards, but so naive in others. Maybe one day he'll realise. Maybe not.

"Hey," you say to Jimin quietly as you enter their kitchen, and nod towards their bin. "I think you need to take the recycling out."

He doesn't. It's barely half-full.

Twisting his handsome face in a little confusion, Jimin says nothing. Uses his facial expression to say ' huh ?'.

You shake your head. Mouth 'just do it' as if you're a Nike brand ambassador.

"Oh," Jimin says, still confused, but playing along. "Yeah. You're right. Let me take the trash out."

He follows behind you as you leave, a small bag of clear plastic in his hands, ready to be tossed on the trash pile outside their apartment block.

Quiet until the elevator doors shut, Jimin finds everything about your visit today curious. In fact, he tells you so almost immediately.

"You're acting weird, DB," he hums, as if that isn't a usual occurrence for you.

"Weird isn't bad," you tell him.

He agrees, but also thinks it's not the point. "Never said it was."

"I need your help with something," you shrug, knowing that he's probably already figured as such. "What are you doing tomorrow evening?"

Jimin doesn't reply immediately. He's watching the elevator tick down; feeling the motion beneath his feet. Knows he's plummeting but doesn't fear it. Has never been one to scare easily, and yet he's apprehensive of your question. He knows Jeongguk hurt you, and that he'll deserve whatever is coming to him, but he also doesn't want Jeongguk to suffer. Not again.

He fears that your attempts to heal yourself will hurt Jeongguk, and as much as he thinks it would be valid and reasonable, he doesn't want his best friend to go through pain like he did before.

"Look, DB, I know things with Gguk are rough-"

"They're fine," you interrupt, because you think they really are. Nobody can gaslight you better than yourself.

"There's no point in lying to me," Jimin laughs at your interjection. "I've seen you both naked. I know the pair of you better than you know yourselves."

"Please can we not talk about us fornicating."

"Please can you never refer to sex as fornicating?"

"Yeah," you grimace. "Fair enough."

"Anyways, beyond the point," Jimin continues without missing a beat. Had mini conversations with you in his head while you were in Jeongguk's room. Already has it all planned out. "I knew you were fucking. Have known for months that there's been some weird little thing going on between you two, so don't bother even trying to lie, DB."

"Well what do you want me to say?" You sigh, leaning against the elevator wall. You're defeated in your posture, the weight of your Jeongguk-related uncertainty taking its toll.

"You don't have to say anything, " Jimin says. "You have to listen."

"Go on..."

"I know he's an idiot," he starts as the elevator dings and rattles open on the ground floor. Both of you walk a little slowly through the lobby, Jimin setting the pace. He's got important things to say, after all. "You don't need to tell me how much of one he is, I already know. Have lived with him for long enough. Thing is, his heart is always in the right place even if his head isn't. The shit he went through with Hayun really took a toll on him."

You nod, but don't interrupt.

"I see a lot more than he realises. I know the warning signs. I worry that what you have going on..." he pauses. Isn't sure how to phrase it. Sucks a little air between his teeth. There's no way he can be dainty about what he's gonna say, so instead, he just throws caution to the wind. "Look, you and I are both fine with fucking around. Hookups without hang-ups. Gguk... Gguk isn't wired that way-"

"Jimin."

"Uh-uh," he shakes his head. "Said you gotta listen."

"Sorry."

He doesn't say 'forgiven'. Now isn't the time for jokes.

"I know you're nothing like her," he adds, just in case that's what you were thinking. "I wouldn't be so honest with you about this all if I thought you were. I know you really care for him, so I'm asking you as a friend to take a step back and look at this all objectively. If you guys keep hooking up when he's not in a place to be making good choices, it'll-"

"We aren't hooking up anymore," you say quietly, as if it's a secret. Kind of is. Jeongguk doesn't know this yet. "I haven't spoken about it with him yet, but I know something happened with Hayun - which is totally fine, he can do whatever he likes-"

"Is it?"

"Yep," you lie.

"What happened with Hayun?" Jimin asks. Doesn't wanna let on that he knows. As much as he considers you his friend, his loyalties lie with Jeongguk. You expect nothing less.

"Dunno," you shrug, surprised that Jimin doesn't seem to know, but not thinking to ask. If anything, you feel bad for sharing Jeongguk's dirty laundry. "Asked him not to tell me. Ignorance is bliss, right? And with his exam and everything, I just don't wanna be causing fights, y'know? My anger can wait."

"You shouldn't have to withhold your feelings like that."

"I know that - but like you said. I care for him. He's one of my closest friends, Jimin. The sex... was just a dumb way to pass the time when it started," you lie, not wanting to disclose the real nature of your hook-ups with Jeongguk. "I'd still be annoyed about Hayun even if we weren't hooking up, purely for the fact she's a grade-A grated ballsack, and that he even gives her the time of day drives me insane."

Jimin snorts a little. "Grade-A grated ballsack. Haven't heard that one before."

"Tell me I'm wrong," you grin as you stand far closer to the neighbourhood trash pile than is really desirable. "Anyways, I called you down here for a reason."

"Which is...?"

"What are you doing on Tuesday evening?"

---

Jeongguk sits at his examination desk, leg jittering nervously as his heel taps against the floor.

Weeks of revision have led to this point, and yet all he can do is think of you; of how your eyes will light up when he tells you about the questions he aces, and the contemplative thought you'll give when trying to figure out the harder ones he relays to you.

He thinks about your enthusiasm, and how he knows you'll give him the warmest of hugs to celebrate his accomplishments.

He thinks of his kitchen, and how he knows there's a small gift bag addressed to him with a 'DO NOT OPEN UNTIL AFTER YOUR EXAM!!!' warning label on the front of it written in sparkly gel pen. There's a few stickers on there, too. Some stars, and a Kuromi for good measure.

He'll wait until you inevitably come to his place that evening to open it. Knows you gift with intent, and that whatever it is will be perfect.

Jeongguk is, to a certain extent, overcompensating; thinking about you as if you put the stars in the sky. It's like he's trying to make up for the time he spent thinking of you as an earthly being. He knows it couldn't be further from the case, now.

It's romantic, the way angels seem to sing and wind apparently blows in your hair, whenever he thinks of you.

He's letting himself do that, now; letting you be more than a friend, in his head. His heart, too. Isn't brave enough to tell you, yet, mind you. Will indulge in his fantasies a little longer.

Or at least until the curt whistle of an alarm bell, and the rustle of students opening up their exam papers, tears him from them. Picking up his pencil, Jeongguk, for once in his life, has a clear mind. A clear goal. A two-step plan.

1: Ace his exam.

2: See you.

Pencil to paper, he begins to scribble away. One more hour. That's all it will take.

Sixty minutes, and then he'll be on his way to see you.

Sixty minutes, and he'll be heading home.

Not necessarily to his. Just to wherever you are.

'Cause he knows.

Jeongguk knows how he feels.

Is as confident in his feelings as he is in the answer to the first question. The second one, too.

He's got this.

Got his head in the right place.

Got thoughts of you sitting peacefully in his peripherals while he accesses the revision he's been tucking away over the past few weeks.

Got everything he needs in his brain, and a few specks of your glitter still on his skin to keep him company.

It sparkles in the light that pours in through the examination hall windows - just like the iridescent letters of the banners Jimin is putting up in their living room.

"Like this?" He asks you as he tacks the edge just behind the canvas of your tits that you know Jeongguk really needs to take down before someone works it out. If anyone were to guess, it'd be Jimin, you think. Part of you worries that Taehyung will mention it at some point this evening, and that the truth will unravel while you're not there to cover it all up.

"Like that," you smile, looking at the letters glistening in the mid-afternoon light.

The bunting is simple, just something you put together at work during your downtime - silver text on black paper triangles, reading 'hope u didn't fail :)' . In the kitchen, a small tank of helium hisses as it fills balloons that Taehyung and Danbi are taking turns tying up.

"You didn't do this for my last exam," Danbi pouts a little at all the effort you're going to for Jeongguk.

"Because I threw you parties for both times you failed your driver's test," you remind her. "Didn't wanna throw a third just in case you failed again."

"Third time lucky," she says. "Everyone knows that. You should have had more faith in me."

"And you shouldn't have almost ran over a school kid on your first attempt!"

Danbi hums in mild agreement. "S'pose you're right."

"Sorry, you did what?!" Taehyung almost chokes on the balloon he's manually blowing up.

" Almost !" Danbi exclaims back. " Almost ran over a school kid. Didn't actually do it. Swerved," she smiles, pleased with herself.

You choose not to add in the fact she swerved into a fence and had to pay for repairs to the test car - but you will warn Taehyung against ever giving her his car keys at a later date.

Chatter takes hold of the apartment once more, music humming from the speakers as you prepare the room for Jeongguk's arrival home.

This is the reason you had called Jimin down to the trash pile a few days ago. Heavily aware of the fact Jeongguk seemed to think none of his friends would be making an effort to celebrate his milestone, you wanted him to be reminded of how loved and appreciated he really is.

Just because Jeongguk hasn't felt your wrath over what you assume happened with Hayun doesn't mean you didn't have any. While stewing in your feelings, you'd chosen to make alternative plans on the evening of his exam.

Wish you hadn't now, but it's a consequence of his actions.

"Sure you can't stay?" Jimin asks quietly as it all begins to come together. Their living room looks fit for a party, and it makes you sad you won't be able to experience it with them all.

Nodding, you hide your regret well. "Can't cancel on my plans."

Jimin frowns slightly. "I think you can."

You know that you can.

It'll only take a single text - and yet you don't want to. Petty when wronged, you know you didn't have to make plans for this evening. You only kept it free in the first place for Jeongguk - but now you're filling it with someone else, because it's exactly what he did in your absence.

It's deserved, you think, and yet you also think he deserves the world.

You can't give him that, though.

Jimin was right. You're not made for the kind of thing Jeongguk is.

You used to be. Would be nice to think that you could be like that again one day, but you're just not ready yet. It's not fair for you to withhold Jeongguk from the kind of affection that he craves so deeply. He's made to be adored. Made of stardust. Made for you to have, but not for you to keep.

It's selfish of you to prevent him from having what he deserves. You're a hindrance to his life, you think.

Funny, really, how wrong you are.

Across town he's scribbling down notes on a hypothetical glitter brand and how they would strategize promotional events for a new product launch. Knows more about cosmetics branding than he ever did before he met you, due to the fact he's never met someone so susceptible to cute marketing and branding as you.

The second you see something a little glittery, you have to have it. Will moan about being a slave to capitalism each and every time, but won't stop yourself from making the purchase, and then saying some bullshit about serotonin afterwards.

Even now, you're helping him; giving him answers to a 25-mark question that he knows he would have stared at for a good five minutes had he not been distracted by your glitter.

You're not a hindrance. Thoughts about you don't negatively impact him. Not at all.

As you leave his apartment block, you worry that you've made a mistake by organising a surprise celebration for him. Worry that maybe he'll just want to go home and crash after his exam. Worry that he'll be annoyed with it.

Still, you won't have to deal with it if he is. You won't be there. You'll be downtown in a crowded room, sitting across from a man who is so handsome you're not actually sure he exists.

If you hadn't already met Seojoon, you'd have assumed he was a catfish. No man looks that good, is that tall, carries himself with that much charm, without having something to hide.

And yet in all the messages he's sent over the past few days, there's been no red flags. He's got a good sense of humour, and isn't too over-keen in his texts, but also makes it clear that he wants to see you. Doesn't care when you take a while to reply, and also doesn't put his life on hold just to reply to you.

His flags are as green as the sky is blue - but pollution is bad today. The sky is grey.

Much like the truth of your feelings for Jeongguk, the horizon is hidden. It'll remain this way until the next storm passes through.

The weather forecasters don't seem to have one predicted for a little while yet, mind you.

And so Jeongguk walks home with a smile on his face, ignorant of the pollution clouding up the sky. No text pings through from you, but he doesn't mind. You've been more concerned about his exam than anyone else, so if you're away from your phone, it's for good reason.

He tries his best to ignore the irritated feeling beneath his ribs that something is amiss. He's no stranger to the sensation, but it always makes him overthink.

Is something more important? You know when his exam was due to finish. Don't you care? Aren't you going to ask him how it went?

A small sliver of his brain indulges in a 'what if' scenario: what if you're already waiting at his place to surprise him? To congratulate him?

In all honesty, his head's been so frazzled recently that all he really wants to do is sleep, but he also doesn't really wanna think about his bed if you're not in it. Doesn't wanna fuck - too tired for that - just wants your company. No change to usual, really.

It's curious how when you first met, it was the 'what ifs ' of who you are - who you could be - that intrigued Jeongguk.

He knows exactly who you are now, and it only makes him like the scenarios he imagines up even more.

Thing is, real life always seems to be better than his imagination.

It's why he's walking with a stupid grin plastered all over his face; why he's got a little bound in step as he goes. He can't wait to get home.

And it's also why the destination isn't important. Home could be the art studio. Could be his bedroom. Could be yours.

All that matters is that you'll be there.

He decides to play it safe, and heads in the direction of his apartment block, 'cause he knows better than to show up at yours unannounced. Sends through a text - I'm FREEEEEEEE!! - when he's going up the elevator to his place. Smiles so brightly he might cause a power outage. Can finally relax.

Funnily enough, your posture is anything but relaxed as your phone buzzes on the coffee table in front of you.

Downtown at an over-priced, under-decorated excuse of an artisan coffee house, you're cursing yourself for not putting your phone on silent.

"Oh, don't ignore it on my behalf," Seojoon smiles as he sits opposite you, dressed in a casual but clean hoodie and a pair of slacks. He's got just the right balance of comfort and style, putting him right at home in such a pretentious little joint - not that he's pretentious, just that he's got the kind of face that wouldn't look out of place on a billboard or in a high-fashion magazine.

"It's probably just your friends making sure you're safe," he adds. "Please let them know I'm not a creep."

You smile and roll your eyes. "You met a few of them already, remember? They know you aren't."

"Sending pick-up lines at a pocha doesn't exactly scream 'not a creep', does it?" He cringes, twiddling with the paper wrapper of his drinks straw. Nerves, it would seem, affect even the most forward of men.

"Maybe not," you tease in good humour. "But your friends did say you save cats from trees at the weekend, and I'm hoping that turns out to be true."

Holding out the hand that isn't messing with his wrapper, Seojoon proudly displays a small pink scratch on the top of his hand. It's no bigger than a penny, but it's almost identical to the scratches you often see on Yoongi's hands, thanks to Oduun.

"Wait," you laugh, a little confused but incredibly bemused. "There's no way..."

"Yeah, I can't lie," he laughs too. Wanted to play up to the joke, but can't fib to save his life. "Just caught my hand on a sharp edge at work."

It's endearing, the way he broke into honesty almost immediately. You'd have kept it up for at least a good five minutes, if not the whole date, if you were him. Would have really laid it on thick. Kind of like when you and Jeongguk tell stupid lies and just keep them going because you find it funny.

But it's Seojoon you're finding funny now, and banish all thoughts of your friend. Your friend who you feel friendly towards. Friend , who wouldn't want you thinking about him on a date.

"You almost had me there," you tell him. "Could have fooled me all night."

"Best not to start things with a bare-faced lie," he shrugs, a soft smile on his boyish lips. He's sincere, and you like that. Think that he's got a good head on those broad shoulders of his.

"Okay then," you challenge him. "Tell me about your work. How'd you actually scratch your hand?"

"Funny story," he says as he leans forward to take a sip on his coffee. "So there was a cat stuck in a tree-"

"Oh, give over," you laugh and so does he.

There's a comfortable nature to your conversation. Seojoon is as easygoing as his smile is bright. You're in a crowded room, but there are no distractions from him. None that exist outside of your brain, at least.

"Okay, okay, that was another lie," he admits, as if he needs to. "Sorry. Nah, I'm a mechanical engineer. Been relocated to a new plant for a few months, so was doing site inspections of the workplace. Nothing major, or exciting."

"Yeah, you're right," you deadpan. "The story could have used more cats."

"I knew it!" Seojoon laughs. "Shouldda just lied. While we're on the subject, though - cat or dog person?"

And just like that, he's back in your head again. Quite unwelcome, too.

Dogs. She loves dogs.

The sound of Jeongguk's voice in the entryway of the Min's home echoes in your mind. It's a fond memory. Left such a mark on your soul that you can almost feel the weight of his hands squeezing your shoulders.

Those same hands - the ones you know so intimately - are squeezing down on the handle of his front door, now. He thinks nothing of the silence on the other side of the door. Assumes Jimin is out. Tosses his bag down and kicks off his shoes. Lets out a sigh so large that it's a miracle his lungs have any air left in them.

Rounding the corner from the entryway and into the kitchen Jeongguk is surprised to see the countertop covered in things - but doesn't get enough time to even squeak out a little confusion before the overhead lights flood the room, and all his friends are jumping out from behind furniture.

A chorus of 'surprise' echoes around the room, with the occasional cheer. There are smiles, and waving hands - even a little confetti.

And yet Jeongguk notices almost immediately: there's no glitter.

Well, there is. It's on the banner hanging above the television. 'Hope u didn't fail :)'. Your handwriting.

But there aren't any stars. That's what's missing. You.

He doesn't get a chance to dwell on it, for the boys are bundling around him, scratching at his head, lightly tussling with him in the way that boys so often do. It's as affectionate as they'll get - but they know they have to be on the best behaviour tonight. Gotta make sure Jeongguk has fun. You gave them strict orders. Danbi and Seoyeon will be keeping an eye on them to make sure it happens.

As they watch on with soft smiles, Seoyeon sighs. "She should be here."

Danbi just nods. "I know."

But she also knows there's no way in hell you're gonna be spending an extended period of time in a confined space with Hayun - especially not if Jeongguk is around. It's been proven to you that he's holding her in the top spot, still. His actions have spoken louder than words.

So you had made sure to let her know she was very much invited. Sent her the invite yourself. Even told her that you wouldn't be there, to make sure there was nothing stopping her - though you doubt it would have regardless. She came back into your lives like a fucking steamroller. It's a miracle she hasn't flattened the life out of you entirely.

Jeongguk is so directed by the lack of glitter that he doesn't notice the glaring red flag straight ahead of him.

But she notices the ones in front of her.

Everyone does.

Except they're not red. They're pink and purple.

And they're on his neck.

"Fucking hell," Yoongi laughs as he prods at them. Jeongguk bats him away, cringing, scrunching his shoulders up in an attempt to hide his neck. Had forgotten all about them. Had sat in his fucking exam hall with hickeys on show. Thank fuck he never has to return - or at least not until graduation.

"Stop," Jeongguk whines. "It's just a bruise."

Jimin laughs like a cartoon character, now. Nearly falls off the barstool he's perched upon. Knows exactly who gave Jeongguk those hickeys and while he may not think the pair of you hooking up is a good idea, he loves that Hayun is getting a taste of her own medicine.

"Christ," Seoyeon whispers. "Do you think it was..."

"I don't have a clue," Danbi whispers right back. Hopes it was. Thinks you'll kind of be a bit gutted if Jeongguk is seeing someone else. You don't go to all this effort for someone you don't adore, after all - even if you are on a date with someone else.

Perhaps it would be hypocritical if you were to be saddened by it - but Danbi also knows that this date could have been scheduled at any time. Didn't have to be today. Maybe you are avoiding him. Maybe the hickeys on his neck are the reason why.

Danbi frowns as she watches the boys rib Jeongguk over the state of his neck. Hates that Hayun had little to no reaction. Can't work out if she's to blame or not.

In a way, she kind of was. Had it not been for Jeongguk getting all caught up on her, you never would have given them to him.

And as your phone buzzes while Seojoon is in the bathroom, with a message from Danbi that is literally just thirteen question marks and the words 'was it you?' , you know exactly what she's asking.

You leave it unread. Will tell her tomorrow, or something.

What a pickle you're in.

Giving Jeongguk hickeys probably wasn't the best idea you've ever had. Going on a date when in such a muddle over your feelings also probably is a bad decision. Not being with Jeongguk to celebrate his achievements? Probably the worst of all.

You feel like a shitty friend.

When Seojoon returns, you feel like a shitty date. Your mind is only semi-present. He deserves a little more than what you're able to give. It's always been a problem, ever since Seokjin. Thought that maybe you'd done enough with Jeongguk to get over these doubts and insecurities, but they eat up you. Tell you that Seojoon is having a miserable time, even if he's quite literally laughing at the jokes you're making. Your demons are cruel, and careless. They don't care if hurting you could hurt other people, too.

And so even though Seojoon does everything right - is the perfect gentleman - you insist on catching a cab at the end of the night instead of letting him walk you home.

You just don't like the expectations that come with something like that. Don't wanna have to kiss someone. Don't wanna fuck them, either.

You're just not ready.

A failure, still.

Companionship, and the desire to have it, feels like the most human of traits. It's around you constantly. At work, you're forever confronted by happy couples. In clubs, walking down the street, wedged between Jeongguk and Jimin during hangover The Notebook viewing parties. Love and the romantic ideals that come with it are everywhere, except for within you.

You consider replying to Danbi eventually, the quiet of your apartment especially lonesome, when you're feeling so down, but you don't want to drag her away from the party.

In your head, your friends will all be having a whale of a time.

In reality? They are.

But they're also all too drunk and invested in a game of Cards Against Humanity to notice Jeongguk slipping out. He just needs some air, or at least that's what he tells himself. Texts Jimin so that he won't worry. Doesn't give specifics. Just says he needed to clear his head.

Somehow, in pursuit of peace, Jeongguk ends up at your door.

He texts first before he knocks, thinking it's best to give you a little warning, but doesn't realise 5 seconds isn't a large enough buffer time.

There's CCTV right outside your door in the hallway, so you never worry too much about random knocks late at night. You assume Danbi's just forgotten to door code in her drunken haze, or something dumb like that.

Sleepily pulling your door open, it takes you a second to register who you're looking at. Dark hair hidden by a pale beanie to protect his ears from the harsh winter winds, you've never seen him look so sweet.

In the murky darkness of your apartment hallway - the overhead lights still out - Jeongguk's eyes seem to sparkle a little.

But of course they do.

He's looking at you: his disco ball personified. It doesn't really seem like you've got much of a party in you tonight, though. You've taken your glitter off already. There are only rogue specks on your skin, now.

The shirt you're wearing - one that finishes midway down your thighs - isn't one of Jeongguk's. He doesn't like the way this makes him feel. You have plenty of his shirts, 'cause you're a little klepto every time you leave his place. Must have half his t-shirt collection within your possession, at this point. If he were to ever make an issue of it, you'd just argue back that there's a handful of your bras at his place. He tucks them away in the back of his top drawer for safekeeping, never intending on becoming their owner. He just doesn't want Jimin to see them, and then forgets that they're even there.

There is one that he likes a little more than the others, though. He doesn't forget about it, for he keeps tucked beneath his pillow when you aren't at his.

First finding its way beneath his pillow accidentally, after a fuck that neither of you bothered getting fully undressed for, it kind of became at home in his bed. Even when he changes his sheets, he tosses the underwear back down before he puts his pillows in place. Will never tell you how he sometimes holds it close on the nights he misses you. Just smells like your perfume. He likes it. That's all.

Should have realised that missing you throughout the night was the first warning sign of his developing feelings. Regrets not becoming aware of it sooner.

Wonders if maybe you'd be wearing his shirt now, instead.

His eyes drop to the floor as his lips part, a little unsure of what to say. In his head, and in the silly little thoughts that he'd indulged in on the way over, you'd have opened the door with a great big smile on your face.

You just look a little shocked, instead, he thinks. Shakes his head subtly. Goes to speak, but his lips can't form words.

"My best friend," he eventually says and looks up at you once more. "She missed my surprise party."

There's a forlorn nature to his gaze; crestfallen.

You could be petty. Say something about Hayun.

And yet you can't bring yourself to. Not now.

"She did at least throw you a surprise party," you offer a little sheepishly.

He nods. Takes a second to formulate a reply, and then finally says, "Can I come in?"

You give him no verbal response; just hold the door a little further open.

He welcomes himself in, shoes left by your door, feet padding across the living room and into the sanctuary of your bedroom. Watching as he goes, you can't help but think your apartment is far more lovely with the addition of a Virgo. Feels much more like a home should. You're not sure if that will make sense to anyone but you. Will blame your feelings on the stars because it's far more convenient than attributing them to a man.

But he's your best friend. Of course he feels like home to you. It's only natural.

Just like your room feels like a safe place for him. Just like he doesn't feel the need to ask permission to take off his shirt and kick his trousers across to the chair which houses your clothes pile (or working-wardrobe, as you like to call it). Just like the way gets into your bed and shuffles over to your side, only to find it feels wrong, so he shuffles back to his own side.

You have those, now.

Sides. Toothbrushes in each other's bathrooms. Hairbands on desks and unused bar wristbands on bedside tables. Pockets emptied at the end of the night; uncarefully re-stuffed in the morning, for there's always the promise of a return. Nothing left in your room will ever be lost to him. Not really.

Foolishly, he hopes that maybe your heart could be included in that, too.

In his room, there's a stain of black paint on his white walls, his handprint a forever memory. A mark just as potent is on his heart. Your handprint, this time. Secure around his most vital of organs. Keeping him safe. Keeping him hostage. Or just simply, keeping him.

"Don't remember saying you could stay," you sigh with a thinly-veiled adoration as you lean against your doorframe, arms folded.

"What's mine is yours," he simply huffs into your sheets. They smell like your shampoo. His tummy feels all funny.

"We're not married."

"Maybe we should be," he continues pouting. "Tax benefits."

"Y'know it's not a bad idea if we're short on cash," you suppose. "Invite everyone we know and request cash instead of gifts."

Jeongguk smiles. God, he missed you tonight. "She's a schemer."

"Lucky you," you tease back. "Your bride is a money maker."

He's just joking. You know it. Also know he has a marriage pact with Hayun, so know that there's no permanence that comes with dating Jeongguk. Would always just end up shafted to the side in favour of her.

"The brains and the brawn," he says with a tender smile as you clamber over him and into your bed. He's got his arm hooked around your waist before you've even managed to shuffle into a comfy position - but big spoon Jeongguk is always comfy. He's stroppy when he says, "don't like your shirt."

He's such a baby. Rolling your eyes, it makes you smile. "We've both got brains. You're our revision extraordinaire. And what's wrong with my shirt? I like it."

It's nothing special. Just a big dark shirt from a skate shop down by the coast. You've no idea of the brand, just knew you liked the design.

Most importantly?

It's yours. Not some other dudes, like you're guessing Jeongguk thinks it is.

"Think the revision melted my brain," he admits, then shrugs, holding you a little closer. "Just don't like the shirt."

It's a lie. He really likes it.

Just hates that it might be Seokjin's.

You sort of figure as much. Won't tell him otherwise. Will let him sweat it out for a bit.

"You feel better? Now the exam is done?" You ask earnestly, not entertaining the shirt discussion any further. You aren't taking it off.

"Just wanna sleep, if I'm being honest," he says softly. "Wanted to see you after the exam, but also just wanted to sleep."

"Shit," you grimace, feeling a little guilty about the party. "I did think of that, but not until after I'd arranged it all. Sorry you couldn't sleep."

He shrugs. "It was nice. Was fun. And anyways, I can sleep now."

Jeongguk wants to ask where you were tonight. Doesn't want to know the answer.

"I never gave you permission to stay." You remind him.

He frowns. You're being argumentative, and while he normally enjoys it, all he wants is comfort, now. Is pouty, when he asks, "Can I?"

There's a lot that you and Jeongguk need to discuss. So much to talk about. For now, though, you'll let it slide one final time.

"Yeah. You can."

You'll lament your choices in the morning. Berate yourself for not telling him to sling his hook.

You'll be unaware of the life that could have unfolded if you had told him to leave; be none the wiser of the shame and embarrassment that would come with your rejection of his need to be with you. If you could see your futures, you'd thank your present self for picking this path. For picking him.

Because even though you don't think you have , you will. Again and again, you'll pick Jeongguk, because it's what the stars intend.

For now, the stars will watch on and smile. Some may even shoot through the sky, begging for you both to wish upon them.

Fruitless endeavours. You're both asleep within fifteen minutes of his arrival. Safe. Secure.

Stupidly besotted.

Painfully oblivious.

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#bad decisions

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