#also do not start calling me she/her pls n thank u. close friends only

[spacedykez]

man my gender is so weird. Like. I don't really want to transition or change how I look that much, I just want to dress up. and i don't really mind my legal name or being called she/her in person i just like when people use other pronouns for me also. I don't really want to cut my hair or bother with makeup I just want to be me

[moviecritc]

ohhh i may have an idea for your polyamorous thing, what about the reader trying to soft launch her relationship with carlando but people keep thinking they’re just a group of very close friends or they think that she is only dating one of them and the other is just their friend so she gets tired of people not taking the hint and just ends up hard launching? maybe at a grand prix weekend?

captions ⋆ carlando smau

pairing: carlando x reader

summary: carlos, lando and you had been dating and soft launching each other for almost two years, and carlos just got bored of people thinking you're just friends.

warnings: some suggestive comments

a/n: not the biggest fan of lando EXCEPT when carlos is around so i loved doing this so much. also, it's my first smau, pls tell me what you guys think about it <3

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

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yourusername spent a few days watching this two drive in circles very fast (+ kiki)

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user1 NEW CARLANDO PHOTO JUST POSTED

user2 thank u y/n for feeding us with all this carlando content

landonorris dry ass caption

yourusername at least i post you you dumbass user1 never beating couple allegations user3 carlos must be so tired of third wheeling them

user4 THAT IS THE CUTEST DOG I'VE EVER SEEN

francisca.cgomes i'll never forgive you for naming your dog almost like me

yourusername it's my love language ok landonorris you could've named it lando or smth yourusername i'll change her name to nowins 💋 landonorris wait wat

carlossainz55 👑

landonorris ok i'll correct myself THIS is dry carlossainz55 you muppet yourusername at least he comments good things ?? user5 their friendship is top tier

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user1 here before y/n

user2 NOT LANDO SOFT LAUNCHING CARLOS

user3 i'm dying

user4 i don't wanna start something but that aren't lando's arms in the third picture

user5 it scares me that you can recognize lando's arms... user6 girl go touch some grass

yourusername and i'm the one getting called dry

landonorris i didn't want you to feel bad bout you're boring caption 💛

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yourusername you guys could've win at least

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landonorris isn't a podium not enough for you?

yourusername no landonorris yeah idc what you think yourusername THEN WHY U ASK i'm changing to red bull they'll give me more emotional stability maxverstappen1 please stay there i don't want to have lando in the garage looking for you

user1 cute cute cute friendship

user2 call me crazy but...

user3 but WHAT GIRL? user2 lando soft launching carlos and posting the picture of y/n with another boy (definitely carlos), and them posting each other anytime they can user4 girl they're just friends user5 yeah they've been knowing each other for a long time, they're just very close

carlossainz55 our biggest supporter 💛💛

yourusername always 💛 user2 OUR biggest supporter? them using the same heart lando used in a previous post? user6 paranoid

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carlossainz55 💛💛💛

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user1 WAIT OMFG

user2 CARLOS HARD LAUNCHING LANDO AND Y/N I TOLD U GUYS

user3 they're all dating?

user4 isn't that obvious

yourusername cute dog

carlossainz55 Hermosa we talked about calling Lando our dog landonorris she meant kiki you muppet yourusername no i actually meant you baby

user4 y/n won the game with this two

user5 now i know how true jealousy feels like

yourusername my pretty boyss 💛

carlossainz55 🥰🥰

landonorris dream rides 🤩

yourusername lan- carlossainz55 I'm going to ban Lando from this app user3 LANDO LMAOOOO

user6 CARLOS AND KIKI ARE THE CUTEST AHGDJKJHFSA

charlesleclerc so happy for you guys

user7 charles approves

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yourusername your dream girl's dream boys

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carlossainz55 First

landonorris he's so obsessed carlossainz55 Yeah

landonorris now THAT is a good caption

francisca.cgomes ok cutiess

danielricciardo Y/N blink twice if you need help

landonorris shut the fuck up she's totally fine with us yourusername save me pls

user2 does she even have a job?

landonorris serving cunt? carlossainz55 Being the most beautiful woman in the world? yourusername i'm a publicist but yeah mostly what they said user3 you're so iconic for this

[cryonme]

𝐔𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲

➵ Elliot x fem!reader

➵ requested by anon! “Can I get a fic w elliot where he promises the reader that he would stop drinking smoking and doing drugs but goes to her house wasted one night and the reader is very gentle w him so he thinks she’s messing w him and they get into a fight pls (ends in Elliot apologizing to her and saying something like “I’ve just never been w someone like you) Thanks!!”

➵ summary: ^

➵ word count: 2.8k

➵ tw: mentions of vomitting, drugs + alcohol, swearing, parental neglect, angst if you kinda squint.

➵ a/n: my first elliot fic! hooray! i loved this request so much! thank u to anon who sent it in I smooch u⭐️ also, this is an au where they’re not in high school and all the characters are friends because why not I love forcing characters who aren’t friends to be friends, my favorite past time. anyway, happy reading, lovers! also, this is so ass im sorry, I'm not a very good writer I just like it and im having fun lol xo Mizery

also, I'm convinced Elliot and his partner would call each other bubba, like convinced.

════════════════════════

“I’m worried about you, bubba.”

Elliot hummed and shook his head, blindly reaching for your hand, leaving a sloppy kiss on your wrist when you intertwined your fingers with his.

“M’ok.” He rasped, his eyes still shut, old tears clung to his eyelashes.

“Elliot.” You deadpanned, slightly raising your eyebrows, gesturing to his slumped position without having to move your arms.

His cheek was resting on the toilet seat, one hand holding onto the white porcelain for dear life, the other hanging at his side. His legs were posed in an awkward stance, one uncomfortably folded under his butt and the other completely straight out, his toes hitting the base of the sink. You were squatting behind him, wiping his neck with a damp rag, leaving sweet kisses on his shoulder with a hand tightly clutching his.

“Ok. M’a little fucked up righ’ now-”

“A little?!” You raised your voice, but only barely.

This was a recurring event for you and Elliot. Your parents, if you could even call them that, were often gone, or if they were home they were passed out in various spots in the house, so your boyfriend was a frequent visitor in your home, and from time to time, was dropped off at your doorstep when he was too fucked up to function. You never minded taking care of him, and it was important to you that he have a good relationship with his friends and felt like he could let loose and have fun with them without you getting upset. What bothered you is when it got to this point, it scared you when you would find him curled up on your doorstep after hearing a soft knock against the wood, with Fezco standing next to him, an apologetic look etched on his face.

Because what would he do if he didn’t have you?

Where would he go if your parents weren’t so shitty?

“Baby please… ‘m nauseous.”

“Sorry.” You whispered, leaning forward to press a kiss to the nape of his neck. “Just scares me sometimes.”

Elliot was quiet, his only response being a soft swipe of his thumb against your hand. He knew how much your parents' reckless behavior weighed on you, how exhausting it was to have to step up and be the mom of your family and take care of your little siblings, but you had never outwardly said that his behavior scared you. And in that quiet moment, as Elliot was slowly starting to sober up, having flushed most of the alcohol and drugs down the toilet, he was starting to make the connection. And it fucking hurt.

He continued to be silent as you helped him up from the floor and led him back into your connected bedroom, sitting him on the bed before wiping the excess vomit and sweat from his face and pressed a gentle kiss on his lips. He was still silent when you went back to the bathroom and wiped it from the tile and the toilet before returning back to your bedroom with clean clothes for him that he had left there before. He was still quiet as you crawled into your bed next to him, pulling him close so he could rest his head on your chest.

He was thinking. Thinking about you and how he was starting to become yet another burden in your already stressful life. You had to get your siblings up and ready for school, clean your house, get yourself to your classes, meal prep, do homework, and go to work only to come home and find Elliot high out of his mind in your house. You never got a moment to yourself.

“M’gonna stop.” Elliot mumbled, tightening his grip around your waist.

“Stop what?” You hummed, your eyes were closed, your brain fighting off sleep while your fingers lazily threaded through your boyfriend’s hair.

“Doin’ drugs, drinking.”

You froze for a moment, wracking your brain to figure out just how sober he really was right now, and if you could get your hopes up or if this was just an empty promise.

“Elliot…”

“I’m serious.”

His voice was clear and steady, completely determined to do this for you, and you believed him, you trusted him.

“Okay.”

-

Things had been going well. Although Elliot was never, and could never be, a burden to you, it was nice not to have to worry about his well being so often, and he was helping you out a lot more. Helping your youngest sibling get ready for bed, doing your laundry, taking your sister to dance class, helping you with your homework. Not that he hadn’t done those things before, but he just felt so much more involved this time, it was like he was determined.

And you couldn’t figure out why.

He hadn’t showed up, slumped with his head lulling and mumbling incoherently, on your doorstep in weeks. Only with a grin on his lips and occasionally flowers or takeout from your favorite restaurant in his hands.

“He’s really not doing drugs or drinking anymore?” Maddy asked with a raise of her eyebrow, her perfectly manicured fingers twirling a tassel from your throw pillow.

“Yup.” You responded. “It was his idea.” You said, dumping out a basket of clean clothes so you could begin to fold them. “He didn’t say why, but I think it’s because of my parents, he doesn’t want me to have to worry about them too.”

It was Saturday morning, and the girls were at your house, trying their hardest to persuade you to come party with them, but you had work in an hour, and today was a double shift, so everyone was lazing around your house in the meantime.

“He’ll be at the party tonight though, I told him he can’t just cut out his social life because of this.” You said as you folded another shirt, tossing it the pile of clean clothes to put away.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Jules asked from her position on your floor, her back pressed to the rug and her feet up on your bed, Rue’s head resting on her stomach.

You chuckled. “It’s not like he just completely quit everything, Ju. He still smokes weed and has a couple beers, he’s just trying not to get fucked up like he usually does.”

Rue hummed, “That’s what I said.”

“Rue!” Jules scolded.

“I’m just saying!” Rue shot her hands up in surrender.

Maddy rolled her eyes, “You’re a literal fucking addict, Elliot just likes to party.”

Rue just turned her head away from Maddy and shot up her middle finger.

“We’ll keep him in check, don’t worry about it!” BB piped up, taking a long hit from her vape and blowing out the thick cloud of smoke right into Kat’s face, causing the brunette girl to cough overdramatically and swat her hand through the air to clear it.

You shook your head, “That’s not the point, though. He’s allowed to let loose and have fun, this is his decision, you know?”

Deep down, you wish he wouldn’t. You wish you could give BB the task of keeping your boyfriend in check, only allowing him a couple joints and a few beers, not because you didn’t want him to have fun, but because of how fucking worried you were that one night you would get a call from the hospital instead of Fezco or Nate. But that’s just not who you were, you weren’t controlling, or jealous, he did his thing and you did yours, and you wanted to keep it that way, so you decided against keeping tabs on him.

“I’ll still kick his teeth in if he does anything stupid.”

“Rue!” -

“Shot?” Nate extended his hand to the blond, his thumb and forefinger gripped onto the miniature shot filled with clear liquid that smelled like rocket fuel.

“Nah.” Elliot held up his hand in rejection, and held up his beer bottle in the other hand, signifying he was all set.

“Seriously?” The taller boy asked before shrugging and taking the shot himself, shaking his head and knitting his eyebrows at the bitter taste. “Ol’ ball and chain?”

Elliot shook his head. “It’s not like that.”

Nate raised his eyebrows, not believing a word out of his friend’s mouth. “Yeah? What’s it like then?”

Elliot had his eyes focused on Nate’s hands as he poured another shot. The clear, bitter liquid sloshing over the sides due to Nate’s drunken pouring skills. The brunet caught his friend staring at the miniature glass and smirked. “You want a shot, E?” Elliot groaned and threw his head back before running a frustrated hand over his face. “Yeah.” He whispered, nodding his head. “Yeah, I do.”

Nate whooped as he grabbed another glass and poured the shot for his friend, filling it so close to the top it nearly overflowed. “We’re gettin’ hammered tonight!”

Elliot shook his head, a smile playing on his face as he threw the shot back, swallowing it as fast as he could to prevent the terrible taste from lingering.

Elliot laughed while Nate put him in a playful chokehold, using his free hand to rough up his hair, and Elliot failed to see a group of well dressed girls enter the party.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Maddy snarked, clicking her tongue as she watched Elliot take his third shot with Nate, but who knows how many he took before she laid eyes on him.

“He’s just taking a couple shots, I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Jules said, sipping from her own drink, smushed between Rue and Maddy in the back corner of the living room.

“If he makes (Y/n) take care of his drunk ass tonight after her double shift, I’m gonna fucking come for him.”

“I’ll help you.” Rue chimed in.

Jules rolled her eyes. “You haven’t even given him a chance yet, guys!”

“He literally took three more shots just while we were having this conversation.” Maddy responded, not taking her eyes off of your boyfriend and her ex boyfriend in the kitchen.

Jules closed her eyes and let out a sigh. “Fuck.”

-

As soon as you heard the soft knock at the door, your heart sank.

You had just gotten off from working a double at work, the tips were shitty, every single customer somehow had a stick up their ass, and one of your coworkers pulled a no call no show so you had to pick up their slack. You were so exhausted, and beginning to feel a tiny cold coming on from overworking yourself, and you felt anger begin to rise up in you at your boyfriend, anger for doing this when he knew you had to work a double shift, anger for doing this when he promised, anger at your friends for bringing him here when they knew why he had cut back.

But all of that dissipated when you saw the frantic tears in her boy’s big brown eyes.

“Oh, Elly.”

“M’sorry, baby, m’so sorry, I didn’t mean- I didn’t mean to get this- this bad, I just, I don’t-”

He was sitting down on the porch steps, his top half so slumped over you were afraid he was gonna fall over, his face was streaked with tears, Jules and Rue crouched next to him, trying their best to keep him up right.

“(Y/n) we are so so sorry we tried to just keep him at Nate’s but he wouldn’t stop crying saying you were gonna break up with him and he needed to apologize.”

You shook your head, “You did the right thing, really.”

You cautiously made your way towards your crumpled boyfriend, intertwining both hands with his, and with the help of your two friends, hoisting him off the steps and towards your room, not bothering to be quiet since it was a Saturday night, your parents were gone and your siblings were most likely still awake anyway. You studied him as you walked backwards, holding your hands in his, walking him down the hallway. This time seemed different, he looked kind of fucked up, but not nearly as bad as he usually was when you led him down this hallway at 3 in the morning, he just looked ashamed.

“M’sorry.”

“You’re okay.”

Once the girls helped him to your room, apologized a couple more times, and took a couple beers from your fridge, they were out the door, leaving you alone with your boyfriend.

“Drink some water and take Advil, my love. You’ll feel so sick if you don’t.”

Elliot nodded and took the glass and three red pills from your hands, throwing them back much like he had with the one too many shots he took earlier.

“You feeling okay? Do you feel sick?”

Elliot shook his head, eyes trained on his shoes, trying his hardest to stop the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“Jus’ really drunk.”

You nodded and placed a kiss on his temple, “Let’s lay down, yeah?”

Elliot just nodded and followed your lead while you pulled him to settle into bed, and both of you settled into comfortable silence. It hurt your heart how he cried because he thought you would break up with him, you thought he knew your love wasn’t conditional. You thought Elliot had fallen asleep after several minutes before he spoke.

“Why aren’t you mad at me?” Elliot asked as he laid in between your legs, his cheek resting on your torso while you carded your fingers through his hair.

“I have no reason to be.”

“I promised you.”

“It was your decision, baby, not mine.”

Elliot groaned and sat up, running a frustrated hand over his face, separating himself from you.

“Stop messing around with me, I’m serious.”

All you could do was stare at him with wide eyes and furrowed eyebrows, how the fuck do you respond to that?

“I fucked up, (Y/n)! How can you stay with me after that?!”

“Everyone fucks up sometimes-”

“All I ever do is fuck up!”

“That’s not true.”

Your voice was even, trying your best not to shout or engage in a fight with him while he's crossed, you knew better.

Elliot stared at you, a stray tear ran down his face and his mouth was slightly agape, like he wanted to say something but was too afraid.

“How can you fucking look at me when all I do is act just like your parents?!”

“What the fuck did you just say?” You grit your teeth, finally sitting up from your all too comfortable spot in your bed.

Elliot didn’t respond. He just stared at you, awaiting your answer. He knew as soon as the words came out of his mouth, he probably shouldn’t have said that, but he did, and now he has to face the consequences.

“I didn’t even- I didn’t make the connection until the other night, the night I made my promise, that I was scaring you because of the close calls you’ve had with your parents, and that’s why I stopped. I feel so fucking stupid that I let myself get to that point again-”

“But you’re not even at that point, E...”

“That’s not the fucking point!” He yelled, leading you to flinch. He closed his eyes and cursed himself for scaring you, yet again.

“All I ever do is fucking scare you, and disappoint you.”

You didn’t respond, you just crawled to where he was sat at the end of your bed, pressing the softest of kisses to his shoulder before leaning your head there. “You love me. You bring me flowers, and my favorite food. You help me, you hold me when I’m sad and you put me on your shoulders when I’m happy, making me impossibly happier. We are so much more than the bad parts, E.”

Elliot didn’t hold your hand back when you laced your fingers through his, he didn’t believe you, and your heart started racing.

“If you won’t, I will.”

You froze, you could’ve sworn your heart was beating so hard it broke through your chest cavity.

He couldn’t mean-

“Elliot…” Your voice came out as a warning, slowly standing up, letting his hand drop from yours, so you were looking down at him.

“I’m leaving, baby. I can’t let you deal with me like this anymore. I obviously can’t keep myself in check, it’s fucking embarrassing.”

Your heart might as well have fallen out of your chest.

“No.” You whimpered, feeling your fingers begin to shake and your knees wobbling. If you weren’t so exhausted you’d have put up a fight, put your foot down and smacked some sense into the tattooed boy looking up at you. But all you could do was break.

“Please, Elliot, I can’t do any of this without you.” Your tears were running rapidly down your cheeks, your mouth downturned into the saddest frown. “Please.”

Elliot was stunned. In his intoxicated state, he expected you to agree, that having to add him to your chore list was exhausting, that he needed to grow up if he ever wanted to be with you again. He even maybe expected you to yell at him to cut the self pity bullshit, to tell him he was being an idiot, and you aren’t going to let him leave you because of that, but he didn’t expect your tears. Sober Elliot would’ve never thought about doing this to you in a million years, sober Elliot knew exactly how much you loved him and needed him around.

And he snapped into sober Elliot really fast when he saw your tears.

“Okay, okay.” Elliot shot up from where he was positioned on your bed, cupping your face in his hands and leaving kisses on your hairline. “I’m not leaving.”

“Why would you do that?” You cried, wrapping your hoodie clad arms around his slender torso, holding on as tight as you could.

“I’m sorry, bubba. I’m so sorry.” He said gently into your hair, letting his lips rest against the skin of your forehead, mumbling apologies and sweet nothings. “I’m an idiot.”

You nodded, causing Elliot to chuckle as he continued to hold you.

“I’ve just never had anyone like you before.” He confessed once the two of you had settled back into your bed, this time with your head on Elliot’s chest, the roles of comforter switching.

“What do you mean?”

Elliot hummed, considering his words while his hands caressed your skin under your hoodie.

“Someone who loves me unconditionally.”

Your boyfriend’s words pulled your mouth into a frown, you didn’t like that he had been hurt so much that you thought you were going to throw him out after one mistake.

“Baby…” You crooned, squeezing him tighter. “You’re my boy, okay? No matter what happens. We’ll always figure it out, alright?” You looked up at him, your eyes sparkling from the sliver of moonlight peaking through your curtains, your pinky finger held out towards him.

“Are we pinky promising to be together forever?” Elliot asked, raising his eyebrow.

You nodded. “The pinky promise is sacred, this is more serious than marriage.”

Elliot smiled a toothless smile, his eyes shining, wondering how the fuck he got so lucky to be able to have you. To even be able to look at you right now, your hair sprawled out across his chest, his clothes adorning your figure, your cute black painted pinky fingernail held up.

The blond brought his pinky up, interlocking it with yours, and leaving a kiss on it.

“Unconditionally, always.”

════════════════════════

elliot taglist: @pogueslandia @dava-demoan @spiritualchange @losteroops

crossed out tags means your url did not show up. taglist link in bio.

[hansolmates]

a hero’s journey (m)

summary; jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story pairing; jungkook x editor!reader (f) genre/warnings; best friend’s boyfriend au, slice of life, angst with a happy ending because im weak, pining pINING, everyone’s kind of a mess in their own sweet special way, alcohol use, mentions of ze weed, toxic relationships, mean friends, sex—slight dom!kook, food play, fingering, squirting, heavy use of the petname “pretty girl” bc im weak, strength kink, manhandling (oop!) w.c; 22.2k a/n; woof! my first fic for @goldenclosetnetwork​ 23 | jungkook’s birthday project! this goes out to all the closet romantics *ahem me cough* who doesn’t love pining between a cutie koo? a huge thank u for vivi @eerieedits​ for making this bbbBEAUTIFUL fic banner!  

prompt used: “I should’ve known.”

if you like this fic pls consider giving a like n’share🥺💜🥺💜

It’s so easy to ignore the world. 

Maybe it’s a young-adult thing, but it gets difficult fitting into the 9-to-5 and playing to satisfy bosses that don’t entirely understand your work ethic. Maybe it’s out of complacency, or fear. But you prefer to let the world flow around you and when you’re needed, you’ll act. You’ve reached that point in your life where you enjoy the little things, satisfied by an extra hour of overtime tacked onto your paycheck, a new fabric softener, or finding the perfectly squishy yoga mat. 

You’ve finally started feeling comfortable in your shoes, uncaring as to whether you’re single or drowning in college debt, happy to live a relatively stable life. You’re grateful. There’s nothing more than you need than your happiness, and the love of your friends and family. 

Namely, your best friend from college. Jisoo always joked about how you two “won the lottery” as dorm rooms in freshman year were determined by lottery. Pulling numbers 883 and 884, you and Jisoo snagged a corner spot of the dormitory, leaving you two utterly cramped but utterly close as the years went by. Six years later and it’s still the case, the two of you have grown into talented working ladies. While you may not be able to spend time with each other the same way you did in school, you still care for each other. 

So when Jisoo shows up teary with a rumpled dress shirt and her hair waterfalling out of this morning’s bun, you break out the good alcohol and season three of Jane the Virgin for her. 

After the liquid is warm in your cheeks and you’ve fawned enough over Micheal and Rafael’s love triangle, you let Jisoo ramble. 

Jisoo has downed a whole bottle of soju on her own, while you’ve decided to have a tasteful glass of wine. You’d rather be tired wine drunk than wasted on soju. 

“Jungkook and I had a fight,” she warbles, stuffing a handful of popcorn in her mouth, “it was totally stupid.” 

Your eyes flash, picturing Jisoo and Jungkook in quarrel. They’re the epitome of an Instagram-worthy couple, beautiful and deathly charming to a fault. They show nothing but kindness and sweetness to you whenever you third-wheel, not a lick of anger between them when you’re all together.

So a fight is something surprising. Jisoo and Jungkook, J-squared are a power couple. Saying their names next to each other just emits a sort of energy you can only akin to famous small screen couples like Troy and Gabriella or Cory and Topanga. Jisoo’s Instagram is belly full with sweet selfies of them together, the doe-eyed man always looking completely sweet and gentle to the woman in his arms.

You never piqued Jungkook as the type of guy who would pick a “stupid fight.” And you know Jungkook pretty well. 

Maybe a little too well. 

“He surprised me during my lunch break and he caught me talking to Doyoung and he thought I was flirting,” Jisoo is practically eating her sweater, her head falling between her flannel pyjama sleeves. 

“Doyoung, as in your ex Doyoung?” you raise a brow. 

She groans, glaring at you in earnest. “Not you, too! I told him it was ridiculous to get jealous, and then I told him how jealous I get when he’s around girls and I don’t need to tell him that,” she rolls her eyes, twisting her feet petulantly in her fuzzy socks, “but then you know what he says back?” 

You wince, swirling your wine glass, “That you’re crazy?” 

“That I’m crazy, exactly! How did you—” her bloodshot eyes zero in on you, where you’ve tucked yourself in the corner of the couch. You swirl the ruby liquid in your cup, watching the feet web around the cheap crystal, “you think I’m crazy too, don’t you?” 

You swallow your sigh, taking your time to finish your liquid in languid sips. Uneasy, you wish you could just sink through the couch in order to avoid this conversation. Jisoo’s heart is generally in the right direction, but in terms of emotions she has the kind of sensitivity that you prefer to ignore rather than tread. Jungkook is also equally emotional, but in a different way. He wears his heart on his sleeve, preferring to keep things straight as opposed to bottling it up like Jisoo. 

However the theoretic bottle has reached it’s brim and Jisoo’s tipping, fast. 

“I need to tell you something,” Jisoo is swerving, crawling like an infant on wobbly limbs to reach your corner of the couch. You almost stop her, tell her you can continue this conversation in the morning, it’s what you normally do when she drinks into a stupor. But tears are swimming in her glassy caramel eyes and she’s grappling onto your blanket, resting her head in her lap. 

Her glossy russet strands curtain her head, so you don’t see the expression on her face when she says her next words: 

“Jungkook told me he liked you senior year, and I told him you weren’t interested so I’d have a chance.” 

Wow. So that explains everything.

The memories that you’ve tried so hard to brush away, the feelings you’ve tried so hard and continue to try to suppress, are laid out in front of you on a rusted platter. You could laugh, you could fling the rest of the Pinot Grigio down your throat like fresh water on a hot day and call it a night. 

But instead you choke back your tears, and push her off because you’re hurt.  

Deep down you know you would’ve been less upset if she told you the week after Jisoo and Jungkook called it official. If you knew from the beginning, it would’ve been easier on your heart. But it's been over two years since the past, thinking you’ve been needlessly, stupidly, delusional in thinking that you could’ve possibly had a chance with Jungkook.

Because it could’ve been you. And the reason why Jisoo and Jungkook fought today? Now you know it’s because deep down, they know they’re each other’s second choice. 

You can’t even recall a time where Jungkook and Jisoo were together alone before they suddenly started dating, remembering how it used to be you and Jungkook before Jisoo found him one day in your shared apartment, utterly smitten. And now you know you weren’t delusional, because the feelings and the signals you two were exchanging in senior year was real. 

But it doesn’t stop the fact that over two years have passed. Two years of a serious relationship between Jisoo and Jungkook, and two years of you secretly loving him from an arm’s length. 

“You hate me,” Jisoo removes herself from you, voice trembling. The quick, dark part of your mind wants you to snap back of course I hate you. You’ve trusted Jisoo with your life all these years, she was the reason you got through college so gracefully, why you enjoyed the past seven years of your life. 

But the sentiment is stained, and all you can do is deliver a tired smile and stand up. “I don’t hate you,” you say, “I’m just, really overwhelmed. I can’t lie and say that I’m not hurt,” your fingers clutch the fake crystal in your grasp, and for once you’re thankful you’re not strong enough to break it, “but you two love each other now and there’s no point in dwelling in the ‘what-ifs’.” 

Now that you think about it, when was the last time Jisoo treated you like a best friend? You stare at your wine glass, thinking that the only time comfort is provided in this apartment is when Jisoo is upset, never when you’re upset. 

Jisoo bobs her head senselessly, agreeing to every word. It’s pathetic, seeing her on her knees and her eyes glimmering with the hope that you’d forgive her straightaway. She must feel awful. That’s good.  

You sigh, needing to be the bigger person. “You need to call Jungkook and tell him he has nothing to worry about though, after all, you two have history now. As much, if not more than Doyoung.” 

“Right,” she replies, biting her lip. It suddenly feels like you're talking to a wall, carrying a conversation that's long ended.

“As for us,” you have half a mind to slam your glass on the counter, but instead you give it a heavy hand, letting slowly thump to the coffee table, “I don’t think I want to see you two, for a while.” 

“Understandable.” 

“And I don’t want to help you move out anymore,” I just want you gone.  

“Right,” she whispers. The both of you will be completed with your lease in two months, and Jisoo and Jungkook have decided to move into Jungkook’s apartment. As for you, you haven’t decided as to whether you want to go through the whole process of moving out or looking for a new roommate. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so so fucking sorry. I just was insecure as fuck in college and Jungkook was the first person I met in a long time that helped me feel more… like me.”

You want to say that she's right, she’s selfish. Her excuses aren’t palpable anymore. It’s too late. But if you were in Jisoo’s shoes, you’d think this apology is mere crumbs in comparison to your friendship. Why isn't she trying harder? Maybe because she doesn't know any better. After all, you never told her what you felt for him has morphed into love. 

You don’t even have to ask as to whether she’ll tell Jungkook this or not, you now know honesty is not her style. 

Jisoo doesn’t get a goodnight and a drunken kiss on the forehead like she usually does whenever you two have your late night talks. Instead, she seals herself to her own demise as you slam the door to your bedroom, effectively shutting each other out. 

Work is a bitch the following morning. You’re like molasses, rolling out of bed despite the whole world and its mother telling you to go back to sleep. 

Your feet are killing you as you make your walk to work, deciding to wear a pair of red-backed heels so you can stomp your way through your day. 

Your Wusband (Work-Husband) Kim Namjoon matches you step-for-step, eyes glued to his phone as he catches you on the sidewalk. “Woman on a mission,” he comments absentmindedly, eyes glued to his phone as he follows the click of your shoes to your favorite cafe. 

You spare a glance to your right hand-man, eyeing him appreciatively at his dedication to your morning routine. He’s your favorite co-worker, one who keeps you on time to your meetings and keeps you sane when you want to pull your hair out and dig out a coffin in your little cubicle. Namjoon’s long legs always seem to catch up with you during your workweek, whether it’s to get coffee in the morning or to talk shit about the latest gossip in the breakroom. 

The bell of the glass door tinkles in your ears as you enter the café, relatively busy for the morning rush. While you wait in line, Namjoon ticks off your activity list for today. 

“Meeting with Victoria is cancelled this morning,” you groan in relief, your supervisor Victoria always scares the shit out of you even when she’s not doing anything, “and just the usual proofing and whatever we have to do on the third floor today—can I get a large iced Americano with a pump of caramel? Thanks,” Namjoon moves aside so you can throw your order in as well, “and after work could you stop by Vernon’s? He took a sick day today and he has most of the manuscripts for the next issue.” 

“Done and done,” you swipe your card in the dip, tucking your card away in your zippered pouch. “So like, do Americanos taste any good? Like it’s literally watered down espresso how do you pay to drink watered down tar—” 

Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter. Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter swirling stray sugar crystals with his thumb and putting them in his napkin. What an impeccable display of Virgo energy, absentmindedly cleaning things he has no business doing. You scoff to yourself, recalling this morning that Jisoo got off the phone this morning with a stupid smile on her face. From the mirror image that Jungkook is excluding while he’s smiling on his cellphone like a smitten teenager, it seems like they’ve made up. 

Nevertheless the hurt from last night is still fresh in your bones, and you force yourself to look away despite the fact that your morning pick-me-ups are almost done and are sitting tauntingly next to Jungkook’s elbow. Does he really need to learn against the counter like he owns it? Hair slightly damp from the shower, your heart beats a little faster at the fresh image.His biceps are straining against his charcoal lycra long sleeve, which is slightly damp from his morning run. Snap out of it! You are a mature, working woman who does not swoon in the view of bulgy muscles, especially when the man who owns those muscles is taken. Suddenly there’s a call of your name, and two cups and a paper bag are put in front of Jungkook. 

He blinks, and you immediately pale when you see his eyes flit over your name surrounded by your favorite coral pink beverage. You feel struck as his head perks up at the name and he narrowly makes eye-contact—

“The fuck you’re doing,” Namjoon gripes, shoving your guava iced tea and croissant in your chest, “standing there like a moron as if we don’t got shit to do today.” 

“Sorry,” you mumble, pulling at the brown paper bag to tug a piece of croissant between your teeth. The warmth, buttery pastry melts in your tastebuds. Ah, bread. Nothing like a little bit of carb to make you feel better. 

You’re suddenly thankful for Namjoon’s gargantuan torso from effectively blocking you from Jungkook, hauling you out of the coffee shop like a petulant toddler. He doesn’t even give you a chance to catch another secret look at the object of your affections, making sure you’re back in your work game before you enter the building. Even if he doesn’t know it, Kim Namjoon’s always got your back. 

Or in today’s case, breathing down your back. 

Without your third editor and a hard deadline coming up by the end of the week, you and Namjoon are working in tandem throughout your 9-5 to complete drafts for Big Hit Publishings Arts & Media section. Both of you take turns to bring snacks and feed each other, feeling like reading zombies and slaves to your desk as you remind each other to breathe throughout the whole ordeal. 

In complete honesty you don’t totally mind. Namjoon is a great partner-in-crime, and you both love what you do and do a damn good job at it. You call it “Buzzfeed but with Benefits.” 

And at least for today, you could quell the feelings in your chest from last night and this morning. Sure, you’ve always been okay with the pining you’ve had for Jungkook. The feeling comes and goes whenever it pleases, and since yesterday you’ve been okay with just admiring from afar and being their third wheel. 

However, now the feelings are acutely comparable to a third-degree burn with the help of Jisoo playing with fire. 

With a quiet exhale, you concede in your gaming chair (because it’s just so damn comfy to keep in the office.) You’re an adult and not a petty child, and you will not let this piece of information derail you from your calm, stable lifestyle. 

But honestly? Fuck Jisoo. 

“Let’s go, buckaroo,” Namjoon logs off for you, the cinnamon-y smell of his shampoo effectively waking up your senses, “it’s already 5:30. And you said you’d stop by Vern’s to get his drafts.” 

“Right,” you blurt, mindlessly putting away your papers and snack wrappers in your bag. You can’t believe the whole day’s gone already. 

“Maybe you don’t even have to go to his apartment. Just text him or whatever.” 

“Sounds good, thanks Joonie.” 

“And y/n?” Namjoon gives you a look that causes you to force a terse smile, one you give one too many times to higher-ups at work. It isn’t to insult Namjoon by any means, but you guys are partners, the kind that tell way too much but hide just enough to remain close from afar. “Take it easy, will you?” 

“I will,” you concede, stretching your arms, “I’m def overdue for a massage.” 

“You don’t look sick,” you scoff, taking in the casual look your co-editor boasts as he leans casually against the doorway. 

Hansol Vernon Chwe is the epitome of fluffy, decked out in large electric blue sweats and his russet brown hair curling softly above his porcelain skin. Not only is he your co-editor, but also a friend from college. Not to the extent that you were with Jisoo and Jungkook, but you operated in the same publishing club and managed to get partnering internships that made you the co-workers you are today. You see a little bit of that collegiate youth in Vernon right now, as he looks well-rested and fresh faced despite the fact he probably didn’t apply moisturizer or drink enough water today.

“But you kinda do,” he tilts his head, noting the heels that adorn your feet, “you’re wearing your sexy shoes today, that means something’s going on.” 

“Gee, ever the ladies’ man,” you scoff, getting under his arm to invite yourself inside, “all I want is the completed interviews so we can pick out the best parts and draft them. Then I’ll be on my merry way.” 

“Oh c’mon, we’ve been talking nothing but work this whole damn month. What happened to college when we’d talk hours about House Hunters, the safeness of library sex, that little furry thing in Lincoln Hall’s urinal? That was prime conversation.” 

“Vern, I’m just here for the drafts,” you sit at his tiny kitchen table, glaring at his open laptop.  

“You could’ve just emailed me,” he teases, twisting around his chair so he can rest his arms against the back. “But since you’re here, that means you probably wanna spill some tea but you’re too upset to admit it.” 

“If I talk will you stop talking like that?” 

“Yes. Give me the juicy details. Need some juicy juice.” 

“Nevermind, get out of my apartment.” 

“Uh, this is my apartment.” 

“My point still stands,” you make another face at his outfit, “you look like the blueberry girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.”  

Vernon purses his lips, scooting his chair closer to yours. He’s unfazed by your insult, far used to your defenses being higher up than Fort Knox. He looks up at you with his pretty lashes and deceivingly sweet caramel eyes, leaning his head along the backrest. “C’mon, tell me what’s bothering you,” he says in a gentle tone, coaxing you open. 

He always knew how to do it for you, a little bit of sweet talking and that clear open gaze always reduced you to shreds in university. For him, it always took a good meal and some sci-fi movies to get him to talk. That must be why you’ve stayed friends for so long, you two knew how to connect. 

Finally you crack, kicking off your shoes and hoping the sharp end doesn’t land on his cat. You hear Luna meow in protest but she’s got great reflexes. Unbuttoning the first three buttons of your stuffy blazer, you air out your cleavage, not caring about Vernon’s gaze. He’s seen worse. 

“Remember Jeon Jungkook? Majored in graphic design.”

“Ah, yeah. The guy who like, lived at the gym and the dining hall? Haven’t seen him in a minute,” his eyes seem to glaze over the glory days, reminiscing in the simultaneous safetynet and stressor that made up your early twenties, “didn’t you guys hit it off real well? Like I remember you ditched like—three sci-fi nights to study with him. Who even studies at 1AM?” 

“Yeah, we did,” and you can’t help but frown at as you remember the 7-Eleven runs, the utter warmth you felt when he would wipe a stray rice grain off your cheek, and how happy you felt to laugh so much with him it hurt, “but uh. Jisoo got drunk last night, because they had a fight. And she sort of admitted to me that she sabotaged our relationship and told Jungkook I wasn’t interested in him so they could start dating. Two years later and here we are.” 

A pause. And then, “Want a beer?” 

Vernon doesn’t even wait for a response when he gets up, bare feet slapping against the tile as he prepares some drinks and snacks for you. 

“That’s pretty fucked up,” he practically sing-songs among the cacophony of popcorn pop-pop-popping in the microwave. The aroma of buttery kernels is all but a relief, reminding you of movie matinees, “and like, she knew you liked him! It was totally obvious, even if you didn’t spell it out for her.” 

“Yeah,” you practically gushed to Jisoo those past two months, every waking moment with heart-eyes over the talented graphic designer Jeon Jungkook. 

“I can’t believe Jisoo would keep that a secret from you for so long. Like, can you even trust her anymore?” 

“Don’t know, was she even my bestfriend or was I just a good roommate to her?” you ask. Vernon is holding two beers in one hand and a bag of popcorn by the tips of his fingers in the other, careful to not burn himself. Opening the beer for you, you thank him and take a long swig.

“Well, good thing you’re still not in love with him or whatever. That would really suck. Unless—”

The look on your face says it all. You’re practically snotting into your bottle, your face tucked into your chin as you fight hard to stop the tears you’ve been suppressing for the last two years. “Don’t give me your pity,” you garble, turning away from the sad look Vernon gives you as he wraps his arms around you. 

The tears are soft and gentle, flowing freely onto the cotton of Vernon’s arms as you let it out. 

“‘M’not,” he concedes, rubbing his chin into your neck. He really is a lot like Luna, just like his  cat ready to give you affection. “Let’s just, get some take-out and watch Hamilton or something.” 

He lets you wear his matching sweat suit, lime green, as you order Thai food and rap along to Hamilton’s sick beats. Vernon does a better job keeping the flow, but you’re having a good time being his hype man as he parades around the living room like it’s 1776. 

You go home that night around ten o’clock, feeling noticeably lighter and more relaxed. Be that it may you are still wearing the sweatpants and heels ensemble, you feel comforted. 

The apartment is quiet when you walk in, not a single light turned on. You get a slice of the city lights bleeding in from the organza curtains, which allow you to kick off your heels and hobble to where you think the kitchen counter is. 

Today is Jisoo’s day to cook dinner. You can tell she decided to cook today from the faint smell of Japanese curry and a small unwashed plate in the sink. Whenever it was someone’s turn, they usually left an extra bowl or serving in it for the other roommate when they got home. Unsurprisingly, you find no such thing on the counter or in the fridge. 

You’re not upset, but rather decided. If Jisoo is going to let your friendship fade off with no intention of redeeming herself, then you should give her the same amount of energy back. You realize now the apology she gave last night wasn’t for you, but empty words to make her feel better and mend whatever toxicity she’s created in her own relationships. People like Namjoon and Vernon reminded you that you didn’t need to try and earn other people’s friendships. 

It’s disappointing, but the feeling is all but too familiar. 

If you could describe Jisoo as anything, it would be the color pink. Blushing, beautiful, beguiling pink. The way she flushes when Jungkook does an uncalled for grandiose gesture of romance, or when she wears a hot magenta number when she’s hosting a fashion show. Jisoo is the personification of La vie en rose, unbothered and unabashed.  

But now all you see when you think of Jisoo? Nothing but red. 

With that, you go in your room and untack the polaroid of you and Jisoo at the carnival last month, putting it away in your junk drawer to be forgotten. 

“You’re running away.” 

“Am not.” 

“Are too,” that interjection comes from Vernon’s roommate, Jung Hoseok. He’s been watching you two bicker over work for the past hour while he plays GTA5, failing to get a good hard carry because you and Vernon are too busy discussing whatever finishing touches you need on your final draft. 

“No one asked for your opinion, Jung,” you throw over your shoulder. 

“I’m just saying,” Hoseok flicks his wrist and nabs a tank, “you never wanna go home, you eat all our food, and I found your pyjamas in my laundry basket.” 

“You said your basket was the blue one,” you hiss under your breath. 

“The navy blue one,” Vernon chirps unhelpfully, “not the electric blue one.” 

Hoseok hits “save” on his campaign, disconnecting from his PS4 and stretching his lean limbs. “I mean, we could use a third roommate,” Hoseok jokes, getting up from the couch and grabbing a handful of M&Ms from your bowl, “you do make a bomb mac n’cheese.” 

“Appreciated,” you relent when Hoseok presses a kiss to your cheek and tells Vernon he’ll be back late working, leaving you and Vernon alone in their shared apartment. When Hoseok is gone, you stare at the door, tilting your head, “y’know,” you remark, “Hoseok’s a cool guy, why did I never hang out with him in college?” 

“Because he was stoned the majority of senior year and you just didn’t vibe with that crowd.” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

“But, you’re trying to change the subject,” Vernon carefully untacks your hands from your keyboard, knowing that you two have already been done with this month's issue and you’re now just mindlessly re-reading emails. “You’ve been here since Thursday, and now it’s Saturday. And as much as Hoseok and I like having you around so you can wake me up before we go to work, it’d be nice to throw me a bone and let me in on what you’re thinking right now.” 

You frown, noting Vernon’s large hand covering your laptop closed. He isn’t going to remove his hand anytime soon unless you talk. “Jungkook’s helping Jisoo pack up her half of the apartment this weekend and I don’t want to be there,” you say, short and simple. 

“You miss her?” 

“Yeah,” you admit honestly. You hate this version of yourself, unable to even look at Jisoo nowadays despite the fact you’re under the same roof for the remainder of the month. It’s hard to believe that the roommate from six years ago finally got under your skin, cancelling out all the years of friendship because of one silly relationship, “sad she doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.” 

“Did you talk about it?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you reply despondently, “if she cared at all she would’ve to apologize again by now.”

Vernon figures, and his neutral expression doesn’t change as he leads you to the couch, brushing away Hoseok’s things so you two can get comfy. You busy yourself with the remote, exiting the PS4 homepage to scroll Netflix. 

“And are you trying to get over him?” 

“I mean, yeah,” you have been, but it’s a little hard when you’ve been contentedly pining. It was easy to keep your feelings bottled up because you originally thought Jisoo and Jungkook were meant to be for each other for the past two years. Now you're still pining but ruefully bitter at Jisoo.

“It’s not fair, y’know. She broke girl code, bros before hoes. Or is it chicks before dicks?” Vernon shakes his head at his lame attempt to get you to smile, which works anyway because Vernon’s silly and his sense of humor always gets you a little loose. “It’s your house too, you shouldn’t feel like you don’t belong there.” 

“Well I was supposed to help her move out this weekend, and I’d prefer it if Jungkook didn’t know what was going on.” 

“What?” your friend furrows his thick brows together, tucking his hands under his knees as he leans into your stubborn expression. “You’re gonna let Jungkook go on with his life not knowing that his relationship is based on a lie. That’s not cool. Even if you’re into him, he’s still your friend.” 

Damn, when did Vernon get so good at giving advice? Truth is Vernon’s always been good at dishing advice, you’ve just been privy to what you wanted to reveal to him. The first year or so being together outside of college was always about work, saving each other’s asses to ensure you two got that promotion and aim higher and higher. Now that goal is out of the way, and what better way to reconnect over some shoddy romance straight out of a Degrassi special? 

“I know,” you hug your knees tight to your chest, “when I’m ready, okay?” 

“Okay,” he agrees, because he’s not a pusher, “do you know the best way to get over someone?” 

“What?” 

“The best way to get over someone, is to get under someone," he emphasizes that point with his hands, sliding one under the other with a wiggle of his thick brows.

You slap him on the shoulder, “Vern, you disgust me.” 

“But it works!” 

“I’m not going on Tinder to find a fuckbuddy.” 

“You don’t have to look on Tinder or Tumble.” 

“Bumble.” 

“Whatever,” and his eyes flicker to his lap, where his pale fingertips turn red as he grips the edge of a throw pillow. "If you really don't wanna find someone, I can help." 

Is Vernon offering himself up? He is offering to fuck your brains out in the hope that you could inevitably fuck out your interest in Jungkook? Your eyes flicker over to Vernon's form on the couch, who's tucked in the couch just as you are. 

It’s true that you find Vernon attractive, and to some extent he definitely finds you attractive as well otherwise he wouldn’t have suggested the idea. It’s just that in college you never viewed him in that kind of light, probably because you were always so caught up in Jungkook. But tonight you can’t seem to ignore the eagerness hidden in Vernon’s carmine gaze, and how shiny and touchable his chocolate locks look under the setting sun. 

“I don’t want our friendship to change,” you reply slowly, furrowing your brows. “I appreciate it, but I don’t know. It sounds like a temporary fix.” 

“Can’t knock it if you don’t try it,” and out of curiosity, you don’t shy away when Vernon leans over to you, squeezing himself between the couch so he can tuck you in his arms. “I want to help you, but only if you want to.” 

Maybe it’s the frustration you feel with Jisoo, Jungkook’s ignorance, or the fact that you haven’t felt physical pleasure in such a long time, but you soften into Vernon’s hold. He’s relaxed, nothing betraying him as he waits patiently for your answer. You’ve always admired how much he kept up his “cool as a cucumber” demeanor. He isn’t the type of guy to let life pass him by, but he’s the kind of person who walks along life, embracing the ups and downs like old friends. He’s the ocean waves that crest along the shore, pushing and pulling along without a care in the world. 

He’s the textbook opposite of Jeon Jungkook, which is why you give Vernon the okay to lean in and press his lips against yours. 

His kisses are soft, and he takes great care in making sure you’re comfortable with this new step in your relationship. It almost feels as if you’re cutting corners, and you can’t help but feel a little guilty that you revel in the way Vernon’s hands trail under your too-large t-shirt. 

The pleasure you’ve ached for is there, bubbling low in the pit of your belly. It’s hard to get you out of your mind however, because this man isn’t the one you love. His kisses hold no power, only brief reprieve. Your heart doesn’t palpitate and your palms don’t sweat, you’re just languid. 

You’re greedy and selfish, but you remind yourself that it’s okay to allow yourself of these freedoms, even for a little bit. As Vernon finds your sweet spot that has you rolling your hips against his, you find that temporary fix isn’t a bad start at all. 

When you trudge back to your apartment that night after much reluctance, your face is still flushed and you think you smell a little too much like Vernon’s cologne. But the fact that still stands is that you're satiated, and you feel a tiny percent closer to moving on. 

The television is glowing with a terrible reality TV show, angry brides upset over cake layers or whatever. Jungkook and Jisoo have fallen asleep on the couch, surrounded by half-empty boxes. Jungkook has his arm lazily over Jisoo, her petite body fitting perfectly between his chest and the crook of his neck. 

You scoff when you spy Jisoo's bedazzled manicure digging into Jungkook's bicep, as if someone's going to take him away if she doesn't hold tight.

With stiff muscles you spare one look at Jungkook, ignoring the pang in your chest as you weave between boxes to turn the TV off. Barely an iota of your feelings have dissipated since your previous tryst with Vernon not an hour ago. Looking at Jungkook brings it all back, unfortunately. You suppose the feelings will pass with time. The soft hum of the television ceases, and you’re bathed in a room that feels dark and empty, despite the apparent life in the room. 

There’s some bleary talk coming from the couch as you walk to your bedroom, and if Jungkook is sleepily mumbling your name in question, you pretend you don’t hear. 

“So, where’s y/n? I thought she was going to help us pack.” 

It’s an innocent enough question, as Jungkook scans the corner of the living room hallway that leads to the bedrooms. You haven’t come out yet. He knows that you love sleeping in on the weekends, but he hopes the smell of fresh food will coax you to the table. His pan is sizzling in protest, telling Jungkook to quit talking and flip the hashbrowns. He's fried up three, in the hopes you’d be up for some crispy potatoes. He knows how much you love potatoes, especially at 2AM when you’re craving fries and a McFlurry combo. 

Instead Jisoo mutters, “You toasted too much bread, you know I don’t eat bread like this,” she’s pulling slice by slice out of the toaster, until there’s a stack of six golden toasts in the middle of the kitchen table. 

A little part of him wishes to quell the precursor to the argument there. It would be so easy for Jungkook to say, “the extras are for me” because he’s trying to gain weight, and that would be that. 

Instead he continues with his unanswered question and replies honestly, “I made extra toast for y/n, babe. She was supposed to help us pack but I haven’t seen her all weekend.” But he’s pretty sure you came home last night, unless that was his imagination. 

Jisoo pulls a carafé of apple juice out of the fridge, pouring the amber liquid into two glass cups. “Ah, she said she had some last minute things to do for work. Y’know, Big Hit always wants a big hit.” 

He chuckles, tilting his head as Jisoo gives him a small smile from the kitchen table. Jisoo is always good at cheesy jokes. “She must love her job, huh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Her articles are really good, too,” the air smells like butter and Italian seasoning, as he places one hash brown on Jisoo’s plate, and two on his. He knows you edit in the Arts & Media section, and loves how you make it a point to include video games and modern graphics when it’s deemed appropriate. “She did a piece on the evolution of RPG and I thought her commentary was really spot-on.” 

He brings breakfast over to the table, while Jisoo places two slices of toast on his plate, one buttered and one with strawberry preserves. Breakfast is a quiet, but peaceful affair. Jungkook takes note of how Jisoo takes extra long to complete her meal, her fork creating ribbons in her little blob of magenta jam. He allows himself to complete his first hashbrown and a slice of toast before asking the difficult question. 

“Are you and y/n okay?” and he also takes note when Jisoo’s ministrations on her jelly stop, as she looks up at him with her big brown eyes. 

“We’re fine,” she insists, “just normal roommate issues, I promise.” 

“Maybe I should text y/n,” Jungkook says, pulling out his phone. “Lemme help you fix this, wouldn’t want you and her in a bad place when you’re about to move out.” 

“Baby, why are you so concerned about y/n?” Jisoo croons while his thumb hovers over your contact, his screen showing a two-year old selfie you two took during a study session early on in your friendship. He can’t remember the last time you two took a picture together out of spite, one without Jisoo. Jisoo’s hand pulls him away from his phone, rubbing small circles between his palm. 

He wants to ask, why aren’t you? But he sees the terseness in Jisoo’s smile, as her eyes fix between the interlocked fingers. He has a feeling he’s hovering somewhere he isn’t allowed to be in. Maybe it really is roommate stuff and it’s none of his business, but he feels a little insulted being left out because you and Jungkook are just as much best friends as you were in college. 

Or are you? 

This question plagues him throughout the day, and when Jungkook packs enough boxes for the weekend and says he needs to go home, Jisoo for once doesn’t argue. Normally Jisoo would cling to him like a koala, murmur simultaneously adorable and dirty things in his ear and lead him to her bedroom to coop up for hours on end. But Jisoo says she’s tired and needs some alone time, which is also fine. 

He doesn’t feel like going home, and instead heads straight to the gym. A couple pumps wouldn’t hurt, and it would clear his head. It’s nearly five in the evening when his body is thrumming with the afterglow of his post-workout, and he decides to take a little cool down in the mall and treat himself to a smoothie. 

It must be kismet when he sees you coming out of the bookstore, looking a little winded but no less professional in your beige blazer set and rose gold iPad. Whenever he hung around your apartment with Jisoo and you’d come home from work, he’d make it a point to acknowledge your plethora of multicolored skirt-suits. He never needs to be professional in his place of work, and admires how much effort you put in. 

“Hey!” he jogs up to you, and he catches the way your shoulders jump at his voice. “We missed you today.”

Your smile curls into something dry, and you twist your spine like rusty hinges to face him. In turn, his smile dims a little, wondering if he’s doing something wrong. Maybe you’re tired? He catches the line of sweat that glistens your baby hairs, and how your hair is done up but has fallen a few centimeters with some pieces falling out. 

“Jungkook,” you exhale, “lifting boxes wasn’t enough of a workout?” 

“You know me,” he replies stiffly, hiking his backpack higher upon his shoulder. Why does this conversation feel so awkward? “So, finishing up work? Sucks you have to work on a Sunday.” 

“Ah, it wasn’t so bad,” you face relaxes a little as you explain your work, “it was children’s day at the bookstore and they were watching Disney movies. I’m writing a piece on how I believe Ratatouille is Pixar’s magnum opus. Interviewed some kids, I wanted an expert opinion.”  

“Ratatouille is the superior film,” he declares with a firm nod, “after all, anyone can cook.” He revels in the small smile he manages to retrieve from you, immediately understanding the inside joke. If he came out of the gym five minutes earlier, he probably would’ve been able to catch you in the bookstore. What a shame, he would’ve loved to see you play around with the kids. 

At the mention of food, the mall manages to silence itself enough for him to catch the grumbling coming from your stomach. He laughs when your cheeks heat. 

“I was on my way to get some smoothies,” he jabs a thumb in the direction of the food court, “wanna catch up and get a bite?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, I have a lot of work to edit,” disappointment pangs in his chest at your easy rejection, but he ignores it, “I kinda wanna save some money too, still not sure if I’m staying in the apartment after Jisoo moves.” 

He doesn’t know what compels him to take your shoulders and wheel you in the direction of the food court, much to your protest and whines. “C’mon, explain to me why Ratatouille is the magnum opus—I need to defend why The Incredibles is superior. I’ll treat you to dinner.” 

“What? I can pay for my own food—” 

“And I can’t treat my best friend to a nice meal once in a while?” 

That has you stopping in your tracks, and Jungkook nearly barrels his chest into your head if not for the grippy soles of his Adidas Ultraboosts. He can’t see your face, but his hands note how your muscles cord tightly between the cotton of your blazer. 

He doesn’t understand why you’re so tense. Was it because he called you his best friend? Well, you are? At one point he felt that way, early on in college. The position just stuck with you. And when Jisoo told him you weren’t interested, he was perfectly fine with the platonic relationship. It was nice to have someone to talk media and video games to, someone not as chaotic as Jimin and someone not as deterred as Yoongi. 

Although, maybe as of late he hasn’t been so much of a friend. It’s no one’s fault, he’s been caught up with work and Jisoo’s move, he hasn’t said so much as a “hey how are you” when you’re around. He can’t blame you. 

Suddenly his mind blanks, the mall fading away as he focuses on how small you look as your eyes dart between the parking lot and the food court. Jisoo and Jungkook have been so caught up on each other lately, that he fears you’re starting to separate yourself.

“Um, this place is good,” you tug him by the elbow and lead him to a fast food joint. 

When he picks up both your orders and comes over to your saved table, you’re talking animatedly on the phone. You’re laughing, looking at Jungkook as if he’s the one intruding and you’re muttering a hushed “sorry” as you continue the tail end of the conversation. 

“Yes, Joonie. Go with section two, I know my shit. I’m your Work Wife for a reason, Umji in PR could never compare,” you’re giggling like you’re five years younger, and Jungkook feels stuck in a timelapse. 

He watches you go, throwing around names and terms that he’s so lost on but so desperate to understand. He knows nothing about your life other than the one that’s tied with Jisoo, which is a damn shame. Since when did he inevitably downgrade you from “best friend” to “his girlfriend’s roommate?” 

“I’m sorry,” you turn your phone over and push it to the side, giving Jungkook a smile as well, albeit weaker, “let’s dig in!” 

To his relief the dinner goes as good as it should be. You have your tray practically overflowing at the seams, all on Jungkook’s dime. It has his heart swelling with pride, he hasn’t seen you eat in a long time. There’s fries spilling out from the corners, and two sandwiches because you couldn’t decide between a chicken sandwich and a burger. 

Food gets you amicable, and he doesn’t mind when he does most of the talking. You’re engrossed in his talk, lettuce hanging out of your mouth as you’re rapt with attention as he recalls a story that happened at work recently with Mingyu. You ask questions in all the right places and he sucks up all your attention like a happy pill, and it feels nice to be able to lead a conversation for once. 

“Jeez, I’m getting the burger sweats,” you giggle to yourself, and his smile brightens at your positive change in attitude. Food always helps. 

When you remove your thick high-collar blazer, that’s when he sees it. 

“Seeing someone?” he asks, eyes flickering curiously towards the violet bruises that bloom across your neck. 

“What–oh,” you have the audacity to look embarrassed, hands clutching your neck like a shield, “no, just a hookup.” 

A messy hookup, too. Unless you had a thing for showing off marks, which doesn’t seem to be the case. “Didn’t peg you for someone who hooks up,” he says more to himself than you, but you catch him on his impulse jab. 

Your eyes narrow and your defenses go up, “I’m trying to get over someone,” you snip back, busying your hands by crushing up your greasy sandwich wrappers. 

“Am I allowed to state my opinion?” 

“Since you asked so politely, no.” 

He sighs, “I just don’t think that’s the best way to get over someone,” heck, Jungkook doesn’t even know who exactly you’re trying to get over. He just knows that you’re far too smart and independent to let yourself resort to such matters. 

“It isn’t, but it’s really the best option as of now,” you reply curtly. 

And his gaze saddens as he sees you fold your blazer over your arm, indicating that your time is up. Jungkook is aware the comment he made is out of line, and it weakens him knowing that you don’t even want to pick a fight with him. He can’t even find it in himself to apologize properly. 

He doesn’t know if he’s more sad that you’re pining over someone unattainable or upset at himself for not knowing you’ve been harboring feelings for someone. If you really think hooking up is your only option, you must be really hung about whoever you’re into as of late. 

“If it’s worth anything,” Jungkook adds, wanting to leave on a high note, “fuck that guy. He clearly doesn’t deserve you.” 

A small, secret smile plays on your lips, “Yeah, I like to believe that.” 

“I’m anxious,” Namjoon’s mantra makes the whole energy in the room wobbly, paired with the fact the two of you are squished between cardboard boxes as Jungkook aimlessly moves things around like a Tetris screen. 

The only time you feel remotely comfortable basking in your home is when Jisoo is gone. Oh-so conveniently is the Big Hit building undergoing maintenance today, so you and Namjoon have decided to work from home in your apartment. Although you thought by now that Jisoo’s boxes would be long gone and tucked away in Jungkook’s place, instead you’re living in an episode of Ed, Edd and Eddy and the cardboard is practically wall-to-wall. You also thought by now that Jungkook would have no reason to show up unannounced anymore, but apparently that’s not the case. 

“I have, anxiety,” Namjoon adjusts his glasses for the nth time this afternoon, brain not fixed enough to focus on the screen of his chrome MacBook, “anxiety, anxiety. I can’t right now. I need my weighted blanket and a pillow.” 

“Namjoon, I can get both of those for you if we just send in this last spread,” you coo gently, as if placating a baby. You make brief eye contact with Jungkook from the other side of the room, his lips quirking in amusement as he stacks a box of clothes by the kitchen. 

“Do you feel my palms? My palms, they’re like a fucking fountain you need to feel them—” your Wusband approaches you like a zombie, leaning over you and tripping over his criss-crossed legs before he topples over you. 

“Blegh, get off of me you sweat giant!” you cry with a good-natured laugh, although the grip of Namjoon’s palms under your shoulders are damp and slimy, “Joon, I can’t get you your blanket if you’re crushing my boobs.” 

Namjoon finally relents, untacking himself to rest his chin on your glass coffee table. “Fine.” 

“Look over the last column and I’ll bring your blanket, okay?” 

Pushing yourself off the ground, you shuffle your way out of the living room through the maze of boxes and into the hallway. It feels like your apartment is less of an apartment and more of a storage space when you’re trapped in-between two lines of boxes, and Jungkook effectively blocking you from entering your room. He was just in the living room but now he’s come from the linen closet, standing between the entrance of your room. 

“Sorry,” he pops his head out from a smaller box, one filled with designer costume jewelry. 

“It’s fine,” you chirp, barely making eye contact as you shuffle over the boxes. 

Your toe drags over the lid of one of the open boxes in an attempt to move diagonally. You nearly crash your face into the hardwood if not for Jungkook’s arm stretching out to catch you. In seconds he manages to catch all your weight in one hand, pulling you to him with your hip pressed against his. Your breath traps itself in your neck. Your subconscious fears that if you speak now, you’ll babble about how attractive it is that he’s able to catch you as easily as grabbing a light sheet of paper. 

“Careful,” his voice rumbles in his throat as he regards you with a wan smile. 

Your “thanks” is barely uttered as you slip into your room, heaving your weighted blanket and a pillow in your arms to let Namjoon borrow. 

The burgundy quilted fabric is hunched over your shoulder, draped around your body so it’s easier for you to carry on your back. You try to eradicate the memory of Jungkook’s arms, lean and strong as he held you to him moments before.

Ugh, you thought messing around with Vernon would stop your silly pining. It seems that it’ll take more than a couple rounds to satiate your curiosity. For such a kind guy, Jungkook seems like a wolf in sheep’s clothing when it comes to the bedroom. 

You can imagine him being so kind in the beginning, coaxing you to wan and bend to his every wish and command. And then when you keen a little too hard at the attention, you bet a switch would flip and he’d grab you—

The blanket flops around your back, and you’re sorely reminded that you’re thirsting over a taken man, yet again.  

Jungkook makes it extremely difficult for him to be hateable. It’s by nature that he’s just so damn likeable. Heck, he’s pretty much packed seventy percent of the things Jisoo should be packing right now. 

Making sure not to trip again, on your feelings and your blanket, you successfully reach a tired Namjoon. You tuck your koala-shaped pillow under your co-editor’s arms, and drape the heavy blanket over him like a cape. He’s giving you a thumbs up and a toothless smile, the previous meltdown overcome as he focuses on finishing the last of today’s work. He’s slipped on some noise-cancelling earphones, presumably filled with generic coffee-house music or rain playlists. 

Wordlessly you go to your nook to prepare some tea. It’s getting late and a warm cup would distract you from the impending deadline. Despite the fact that you and Namjoon are 99% of the way done, his previous freak-out has you on live-wire and you could use a little caffeine. 

Placing three mugs on the counter you call, “Jungkook, tea?” 

“Yes please,” you stiffen when you feel Jungkook magically appear right behind you, his head peering over your shoulder, “with milk and honey.” 

Deciding to give Jungkook the beehive-shaped mug because it’s very on-brand for him, you begin to steep the leaves in your kettle while he spoons the honey. 

“So,” his words are slow as the drip of honey, the amber goo taking its time to descend into his mug as it falls from the dipper. “Is that the guy you’re trying to get over?” 

Jungkook lifts his brows towards Namjoon, who is softcore jamming to his white noise playlist. It’s cute as to how curious Jungkook is about Namjoon. While you try to keep your work life separate, there really isn’t much backstory to your personal life to warrant that kind of divide. 

“Namjoon,” you state aloud, watching Namjoon sing badly to himself, “why, are you gonna beat him up for me?” 

“I can take him,” you can practically hear Jungkook’s chest pop out. 

With a roll of your eyes, you reach to kill the heat off the tea kettle, “No need. He isn’t the guy I’m trying to get over.” 

“Oh, he’s your fuck buddy then?” 

“Shit!” being caught off guard, you grab at the handle of your kettle without a pot holder, burning your fingertips. In seconds Jungkook’s larger hand encases your own, pulling you over to the sink to soak your fingers in cool running water.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jungkook is chanting like a sinner at church, searching for any sign of pain in your visage, “I shouldn’t have asked while you’re working with a hot stove.” 

You suppress a sigh, relaxing your fingers as Jungkook soothes the burn with his gentle hold, “Shouldn’t have asked in the first place,” you mumble. 

“I know,” he replies, “guess I’m just feeling a little left out. We don’t talk like we used to. I guess I’m getting a little too nosy for my own good, aren’t I?” 

You don’t understand what’s going on with his incessant babbling as of late, but you chalk it up to work stress and Jisoo’s move. Having no answers to his honest reply, you gently untack your red palm from his grip, assuring him that you’re fine. 

Namjoon steps into your kitchenette, being surprisingly careful as he takes your potholder to pour himself a cup of tea. If the tea is oversteeped and bitter he doesn’t say anything, only leans against the counter as he regards you two with slow sips. “You alright?” 

“M’fine,” you reply stubbornly, avoiding Jungkook’s worried stare. 

Namjoon holds out his hand, “Hand.” 

“No—”

“Hand.” 

His deep voice coerces you, and you immediately slap the back of your palm onto Namjoon’s. Your partner brushes his golden hands over the tiny blister that’s forming over your fingertips. “Can’t have my Work Wife outta commission.” 

“Your Work Wife is fine,” you gripe back. 

Your co-worker’s eyes flicker over to Jungkook’s for a brief second, Jungkook regarding him in curiosity as he stares at your connected palms. “I have some aloe in my bag for sunburns,” Namjoon offers helpfully, ignoring the weird glances, “I’ll give it to you in a bit. Also, I’ve overcome my sudden bout of stress and I’m ready to email our progress to Victoria. We’re done for the day.” 

“Awesome, thanks Joonie,” you exhale, relaxing against the sink, “wanna go eat somewhere?” 

“There’s a niche place in Itaewon if you wanna check it out?” Namjoon offers.

Jungkook interjects, “Jisoo ordered pizza if you guys wanna share with us?” 

“Pizza also sounds good—” 

“We don’t wanna interrupt your alone time,” you gracefully cut in, stepping in front of Namjoon despite the fact that he’s easily towering over you. 

Jungkook snorts, “I’ll have enough alone time with her when she moves in, don’t worry. Besides, I ordered three pies because I wanted to try three different flavor combos. I need two additional judges.” 

“Thanks Jungkook but,” you stifle a cry when Namjoon jabs you in the back with his thumb. It’s pressing, digging into the small of your back as if he’s trying to telepathically tell you that you’re being rude, “but… I don’t know if I can eat three slices! Namjoon on the other hand, can probably eat enough to fairly judge.” 

“Great,” Jungkook’s smile is blinding, causing your grin to stiffen as he looks for his phone to shoot Jisoo a quick text that they’re having dinner for four. 

Once Jungkook’s out of earshot, Namjoon tugs you by the sleeve, “The hell was that?” he hisses in your ear, “you look like you’re about to shit and piss your pants at the same time.” 

“I just don’t feel comfortable eating with them,” you cross your arms in defiance. You think back to just a week ago where you and Jisoo reluctantly attempted to eat breakfast together one morning. You provided minimal small talk while Jisoo clinged to her phone, replying to you in non-committal clipped tones. 

“Do I want to know?”

“No.” 

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” you retort, “you got me into this mess, you’re gonna stay with me ‘till the end.”

“I don’t know what you want from me, woman,” Namjoon throws his arms out exasperatedly, oolong tea nearly sloshing onto his hand, “just suck it up or I revoke your bragging rights to that snag you got on our spread next Monday.” 

“Not my fault you couldn’t get Kim Taeyeon on the spread,” you smirk. 

“Well I didn’t so happen to stalk the Sephora she frequents for the past two weeks—” 

“I didn’t stalk her I just so happened to need a new Fenty Gloss Bomb every other day—”

“I’m home, Jungkookie!” 

Your face contorts, your playful energy melting to the hardwood as your previous banter with Namjoon evaporates into thin air. Work bags in one hand and three boxes of pizza balancing in the other, Jisoo kicks off her heels somewhere across the door and places the pizza on the dining table. 

Jungkook immediately appears by her side, and you look away and Jisoo plants a heavy kiss on his lips. She cracks open one eye as she notices you and Namjoon hanging by the kitchenette, “Oh,” she mumbles at her audience, “you’re here?” 

Yes, you bimbo. I’m here in my own apartment. 

“I guess you didn’t read my text that they’ll be joining us for dinner,” Jungkook cuts in good-naturedly, “we have way too much pizza anyway. Have a seat, guys.” 

Jungkook navigates the kitchen as easily as your own, and you slump in your chair while Namjoon exchanges pleasantries with Jisoo. She looks impeccable, hair in a tight chignon and a tight navy dress as she converses with your co-editor. 

“I’m starving,” Jungkook announces, making sure to place a slice on Jisoo’s plate. He shuffles through the other boxes, making brief eye contact with you when he decides to put a slice on yours as well, “you like these toppings, right?” 

You regard the greasy, hearty piece of cheese and bread with a curt nod. You feel Jisoo’s eyes laser on your skin, “Yeah, thanks Kook.” 

Namjoon, Jisoo and Jungkook mostly stir up the conversation, you opting to eat as slow as possible to avoid any conversation. It’s easy to blend back and let them take over, as Jisoo loves to talk about her fashion firm and Namjoon is a great listener. 

Jungkook and Namjoon make it a point to direct the conversation to you from time to time, and you let the ball leave your court as soon as it lands. You prefer to keep your responses short and simple, especially when Jisoo is so eager to talk about the new silk drapes she’s installing for Jungkook’s windows.

Your phone buzzes in your lap, and you discreetly look under the table to read the incoming text message. 

vernie bernie: would u like to do the devil’s dance tonight

vernie bernie: or a tickle to my pickle? 

vernie bernie: beatin ya bean? 

You: ohmyGOD 

vernie bernie: or y’know, u could just come ovr and chill. Hobi made some bomb tres leches

You: call. Ill come after dinner

“Are you okay, y/n?” your head bounces up to meet Jungkook’s gaze, “you’ve barely eaten and you haven’t talked much.” 

“Oh you know, she’s just stressed about the upcoming spread,” Namjoon steps in for you, and you send him a discrete, but grateful smile. He’s always impeccable at reading the room, “she’s just nervous about her interview with Kim Taeyeon, but I think you did her interview justice.” 

“No way, the singer Kim Taeyeon?” Jungkook gushes, regarding you with stars in his eyes, “your interviews are always so great, y/n. You ask really good questions. Like that one spread about  Lee Yonghwa’s art gallery? Really cool.” 

You notice the way Jisoo presses her lips together, a thin line as if she’s trying to seal away words that she’ll regret saying. She’s jealous, and you can’t help the blush of pride that fills your veins as you raise a secret brow at her. 

“Right, you got nothing to worry about,” Namjoon squeezes your shoulder encouragingly, as if you’d get his double-meaning. 

“Thanks,” you reply, pushing your plate away and standing up, “I’m actually gonna go head to Vernon’s for a bit, though. He wants to double check his work before we email Victoria.” 

It’s a bald-faced lie, Namjoon sent the files to Victoria right before dinner, but he isn’t going to argue. 

“Okay,” Namjoon thanks Jungkook and Jisoo for the meal, stacking his plate atop yours, “I’ll walk out with you.” 

“It’s only been twenty minutes, though,” you see the slight panic in Jungkook’s gaze as he watches you quickly clean up for you and Namjoon. You can’t quite pin why he’s so concerned, after all he has been acting strange as of late. 

“Yeah, I’m full,” you reply curtly, licking your lips and avoiding his gaze. You already know what he wants to say, that he’s been in your apartment all day and all he’s seen you eat is stale chips and tea, “but we can do this again.” But hopefully not. 

“If you’re coming home late again,” it’s the first time Jisoo has spoken to you directly. You tilt your head to her slowly, watching the plastic smile carefully carved onto her expression. You see the contrived care and concern between her brows, “please try to be quieter next time, the last time you came home late you woke Jungkookie up.” 

Snapping your gaze to Jungkook you plaster on a thick smile, “Sorry Jungkook—” 

“What? No, it’s fine!” he furrows his brows in confusion, finally able to detect the strange tension between the two housemates, “I barely heard you—” 

“Maybe I’ll just stay the night at Vernon’s,” your eyes trail over to the pajama set you immediately switched into when you got home today, “wouldn’t want to disturb you two.” 

“Good,” Jisoo’s tone is saccharine and clipped as she tacks on a, “have fun.” 

It’s laudable, how much Jisoo wants to make a fool out of you but you won’t have it. You revel in the perplexed expression as Jungkook’s gaze darts back and forth between the two of you, wanting to butt in but unsure of how to approach it. Not giving him the time to, you bid the couple a goodnight and make a fast getaway. Heck, you don’t even take your work stuff with you. 

Once you’re out the door, Namjoon wordlessly gives you a hug. You sigh gratefully into his embrace. 

The next time Jungkook sees you, he reads the room before anything. You and Jisoo’s apartment is scarily empty, almost clinical. He’s tried texting you a few times after his failed-not-failed attempt at catching up at the mall and his awkward conversation concerning Namjoon, but you always reply back with vague replies and an unpromised promise of meeting up sometime soon. 

It dulls him to think that you’ve given up on him as a friend. But can you blame him? He needs to keep an appropriate distance for Jisoo, after all, she doesn’t like it when he gets too close to other women unless it’s strictly professional. Usually Jisoo’s jealousy inevitably works itself out and Jungkook doesn’t pose any problems because he has very few girl friends, but for some reason your friendship with him specifically gets Jisoo stiff in the face. Is it because you and Jisoo are so close? Possibly. 

But it doesn’t mean you can’t join the same Valorant server with him at 2AM and accidentally bomb each other, or argue over the magnum opus of each film company. Is that not enough? 

Jisoo’s working overtime, and Jungkook suggested last night that he move the boxes to the front of the door for easy pick-up when the moving truck arrives. Jisoo promises to buy Thai food in return, and with a kiss emoji she leaves him to audit fabric budgets. 

As he glides down to Jisoo’s room he notes that the pictures along the wall have disappeared, and there’s double the amount of boxes in the hallway. It seems that you’re moving out too. To where, he doesn’t know but he hopes it isn’t too far. 

He chides Jisoo remotely when he sees that her room is completely intact, and he makes moves to pack up her things. 

That’s when he finds his letter. Not a love letter to Jisoo, but a love letter to you. Deep in the recesses of Jisoo’s junk drawer, is a faded lavender envelope with a pressed cream colored baby’s breath taped up in plastic. The glue is yellow and old, clearly served its purpose due to the fact that the letter is already opened and the contents rumpled. 

Hey Pretty Girl–

He immediately stuffs the letter back in its holder, stricken at his messy handwriting from two years ago. It feels like he found a time capsule, another version of Jungkook confessing to you. He used to call you Pretty Girl, not enough for you to catch on to his feelings, but enough for you to understand that he did find you attractive. It was early on in your friendship. 

When you first asked him to be study partners for some silly class that had nothing to do with each other’s majors, he gaped like a guppy and pointed to himself. That day he went to class in last night’s clothes and a nest of fluffy strands. “Me?” he felt like absolute trash, and you were probably desperate due to the fact you two were the only seniors in this class, “but you’re a pretty girl… and I’m pretty dumb when it comes to this subject.” 

But instead you scoffed and pulled him from his slumped figure, dragging him to the library, with a wink and a “you’re pretty, too.” Those words have burned in his brain since then, as he wasn’t used to getting such off-handed compliments, especially from intelligent girls that wanted more than one night. 

For whatever reason you continued seeing his dumb self, even after the semester ended and together registered for one more class for spring. 

Whenever you’d go out for ice cream you wouldn’t hesitate to stuff your face and add for extra Oreos and fries, you’d assure Jungkook you’re not normally this much of a slob. 

Jungkook would just smile and offer you a napkin and say, “You’re still a pretty girl.” 

He fell for you gracefully. There was no regret, no walk of shame, no cliché late night party where you or him could’ve instigated it into the physical. It was all by feel. 

However the two of you took your time with your relationship, languidly enjoying the hushed conversations in the library at 2AM, the late night McFlurry runs, the integration of each other’s friends like it was natural. Ergo the lavender love letter. It was a gentle declaration, one he felt pretty confident in. 

So color him stupid when you passed him in class with a happy wave, Jungkook dumbfounded at how well you handled his confession. You weren’t oblivious, you just never read it. 

But now he knows the declaration was for whatever reason, lost in transit. “I should’ve known,” he whispers in the air, the letter crumpling in his grip. Composing himself, he pinches his brows.  

There’s an electronic buzz and a sharp slam of the front door. Judging by the time, you’re home. 

You flop onto your mattress, folding an arm over your head to stop the sun from seeping to your eyes. Vernon’s exhausted you, and you barely got away before he could have any say in it. You need a little space, and some time to think. 

Just as you close the door to your bedroom, it swings open. 

You gape as Jungkook thrusts himself into your bedroom like a deer with horns, looking pale. You follow his gaze, darkened eyes that linger a little too long on your neck again, and you narrow your eyes at him to avert. He looks a little red in the cheeks despite his pallidness, looking like he just got out of bed with messy wavy locks and his signature sweats. Is Jungkook packing for Jisoo again? 

Acutely aware that you smell like sweat and sex, you clutch the blankets closer to your body. “Uh, rude.” 

He looks uncharastically frantic, waving a letter in his hand, “Did you ever read this?” 

“Read what?” you ask, hands reaching out for the envelope. 

“My confession letter,” he blurts, having no shame now that all the gears are running through his head. “I wrote you a letter asking you out, because you said you wanted to collect notes like in Letters to Juliet. But I just found it in Jisoo’s drawer, why would it be there?” 

And all the pent up frustration that never seemed to escape under Vernon’s sheets, the feelings that never seem to subside, all bubble back to the surface. Now that Jungkook knows, there’s no hiding. 

You’re in shock, hands reaching for the letter despite the burn that seeps through your fingertips. Jungkook’s shoulders slump when you do indeed look like it’s your first time seeing this, as if a missing puzzle piece in your timeline has finally been revealed.

“I, I didn’t think you’d write me a letter,” you take the lavender envelope, clutching the letter by your chest like it’s something precious, “that’s so sweet,” you say to yourself.  

It dawns on him, “Wait, you knew about this? I knew something weird was going on.” 

“Only recently,” you frown. 

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” he nearly shouts, causing you to flinch, “no wonder why you were being so weird all this time. How could you let me live the rest of my life knowing this? That my relationship is built on a lie? ” 

“I don’t know,” you suddenly feel very small in your mattress as Jungkook rounds up on you, pulling your desk chair closer to your bed, “because you love Jisoo, of course.” 

“Well obviously that’s not possible,” and while yes a two-year realtionship ending like this is going to hit him hard tonight, he’s focused on you and the fact that you failed to tell him, “somehow I’d find out. Why wait for me to find out on my own?” 

“Because I wanted to protect you!” 

“Protect me,” he scoffs, crossing his arms and sneering at you. It causes you to tense up, feeling the telltale signs of tears bubbling to the surface, “you don’t even want to be friends anymore, y/n. I’ve tried to catch up to you so many times, but you keep leaving me hanging. I know I’ve been a pretty bad friend and I get it if you just feel awkward that I liked you, then that’s a shitty reason.” 

“Have you ever considered that it’s too late to tell you?” you shoot back, sitting up straight, “yes, I admit I should’ve told you earlier and I’m sorry, but it was a lot for me to process to y’know? Jisoo and I haven’t talked properly in weeks!” 

“Oh, so you’ve stopped trying to be friends with Jisoo too, huh? Just like you’re trying to stop being friends with me.” 

“No,” you pinch your brows, “she stopped being friends with me! She doesn’t care about me because she has you,” conflict burns in Jungkook’s gaze, and you only serve to fuel the fire, “she’s tried so hard to not involve me in your relationship.” 

“Just tell me why you’ve really kept this secret instead of saying you want to protect me like a baby—” 

“It’s because I’m in love with you, idiot!” 

You blink and back up against the wall of your bedroom, as if you can’t believe that the words came out of your mouth. 

It’s quiet again. The sour look evaporates from Jungkook’s face as he watches you suppress your sobs on your mattress. The room seems devoid, sucked out of its color as you’ve cleaned up most of your things, the only thing left being some plain grey sheets and a pillow. 

Jungkook’s mind is absolutely reeling, playing back memories from a different point of view. 

“When Jisoo told me she sabotaged our relationship so she could date you, I was so upset and didn’t know what to think,” you manage to place the lavender note on your wooden desk, making sure no tears could mar it. “And I thought I could move on and eventually stay friends with the both of you, but the next day Jisoo put all her attention on you and completely ignored me or any attempt to salvage our friendship. She only told me to forgive herself,” you’re hugging yourself, wrapping the blankets around you like a weak embrace, “so I thought if I cut myself out of the picture and forced myself to move on like I should’ve, everything would’ve been okay.” 

“So, you would’ve rather kept all this pain to yourself?” 

“Yeah,” you give him a teary smile, “because I wanted you to be happy.” 

And with an equally sad smile he murmurs, “But I’m not happy.” 

 Your face falls, and you really look at Jungkook. He’s exhausted as well, slumped in his chair. Has he been trying to grapple along the threads of his relationships, while you’ve been trying to loosen them? 

“What a waste of two years,” he slumps in your chair, letting the pieces click into place, “a relationship built on fake love. I was really trying, y’know. I thought I was going crazy.” 

The three of you have unknowingly been playing a futile game of Cat’s Cradle, a game that no one wins. 

Jungkook looks wistfully out the window, noting the pleasant day that fails to present itself in your tiny room. It feels simultaneously satisfying and bitter when it falls into place, your thoughts finally fitting together for the first time in months. “We could’ve loved each other. For real,” he says, and you silently agree. 

You’re still crying, shaking like a leaf in autumn. Jungkook’s arms hover awkwardly over yours, his warmth palpable despite the fact that he hasn’t touched you yet. With a timid smile you allow consent, and you melt like putty in his arms. 

“Kookie, ‘m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you murmur into his shoulder, not caring if it hurts when you press your chin into his skin. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” 

It’s been so long to have him close like this, the friend you’ve always wanted but never needed. Since college you’ve always imagined a life without him doing just fine, but that doesn’t mean you want to live without him, roommate’s boyfriend or not. 

“I’m sorry too,” he sighs back, “this sucks right now, but we’ll be alright.” 

The two of you sit in your room until it turns dark and the sky muddles into shades of twilight and egg yolk orange. There’s lulls in the conversation, the two of you filling in the gaps and making sense of the mumbo-jumbo that’s been going on in your consciousness up until this point. Your insantities turn sane, and by the time Jisoo’s making her way back inside with the smell of pad thai, Jungkook is ready. With a squeeze to each other and a press of your lips because you don’t know what to say, you tuck yourself in and pretend to fall asleep. 

“Messy, messy, messy,” Vernon sing-songs, knocking his heels against the wall. 

The both of you are sitting upside-down, butts attached to the wall connecting to his mattress and your feet hanging in the air. Your mint floral organza socks pad against his Pink Floyd poster, while his yellow tube socks are heeling against some old Polaroids from college. There’s no prospect of sex today, not when shit just hit the fan. 

Today you and Vernon are just two old friends and very close co-workers. 

“Tell me about it,” you bemoan, frowning at the beige wall, “this whole week’s just been a whole mess. It’s like, warm tuna salad.”

“Gross,” Vernon grimaces at the apt comparison, “so what happens now?” 

You sit up on your elbows, looking down at Vernon’s peaceful expression, “What do you mean?” 

“Like, are you gonna get together with him?”

You snort, flopping back down on his bed. The blankets fluff around you and you inhale the pine scented sheets. “After all that? No.” 

“But you still love him?” 

It must sound dumb to still love him after all this time. You wouldn’t be surprised if Vernon thought you’re silly to still hold a place in your heart for someone who has fifteen million things on their plate now. After all the physicality and the space Vernon gave you in his home, your feelings haven’t wavered. 

Your companion doesn’t bother waiting for your answer, hearing your answer somewhere in the air as he gets up and throws on his denim jacket. Rolling over your stomach you ask, “Where are you going?” 

“Some friends down in printing want to meet up for drinks,” Vernon messes up his hair, making the waves part in that little coiff that makes his jawline look sharp. “I heard Yerin really wanted me to come, so.” 

You can’t help the little middle school coo that comes from your lips, causing Vernon to giggle and throw a pillow at you. “Yerin’s cute!” you declare, remembering the petite girl in overalls who’s all about pops of yellow and violet, “you're into her?” 

“Nah,” Vernon holds up two hats in his hands, gesturing for you to pick one. “Just figured it was a push in the right direction.” 

Crawling out of his bed you stumble in your oversized t-shirt, tucking a finger under your chin as you decide between the emerald bucket hat and the red Ralph Lauren baseball cap. You pull out both hats from his hands and set it down on his vanity, opting to smooth out the flyaways and ringing your fingers through his soft curls. “And what direction would my free-flowing friend be going today?” you ask aloud, “you look better with your hair out,” you declare firmly, “makes you look like a fluffy CEO.” 

He laughs at your silly comparison, and he gently moves your hand away from his hair when you linger a little too close to him. His gaze is solemn as he regards you with a gentle smile, “Keep your distance, I’m tryna get over someone,” he says simply, and your arm falls limp at your sides. 

Your heart thuds in a different direction, your mouth parting but no words coming to the surface. When was the last time you asked about Vernon’s needs, wondered if he was doing alright, making sure you two were on the same page—

“You’re spiraling,” he reads you like a playbook, smoothing down your hair to press a kiss to the crown. Suddenly you feel guilty for not having sparks in your belly, shaming your conscience for not even considering his sacrifices in your self-absorption these past few weeks. “Like I said, I wanted to help you. Stop looking like a kicked puppy, it’s okay to be selfish.” 

With transparent tears the two of you pack up and head to your next destination. Hands ghosting between each other you make your way to the exit of Vernon’s apartment, him to meet up with his friends while you have to unpack your new apartment. With a hug you tell each other you’ll see them on Monday, and as easy as that you go your separate ways.

Hey Pretty Girl—

I kinda wanted to tell you this in person but I know how much you liked Mamma Mia and all those other movies that have grand gestures in writing so I thought hey, might as well shoot my shot on paper. 

Not gonna tell you all the details, because you deserve to hear it in-person. But mayhaps this letter has something to do with how much I like studying with you, watching movies with you, doing absolutely nothing with you and all of that in-between. 

There’s a gift card to our spot attached. Meet me at McDonalds @12 tonight, so I know it’s real 😎

Hopefully yours, Jungkook

P.S. if you haven’t noticed already, I sprayed a little cologne and stole Taehyung’s fancy paper from Muji. That’s how serious I am about you. 

“Joon, we live in a bonsai garden. We’re like giants in a forest.” 

“Can you—can you stop spitting at them? Let them breathe, dammit.” 

“Not my fault they’re so tiny! I literally have to zoom 200% just to get a good look at ‘em.” 

The two of you are huddled in what used to be Namjoon’s balcony, now a sunroom for his succulents and bonsais. Your heart feels pink and swollen with affection as you regard Namjoon with interest, absorbing every bit of information you can as he teaches you how to care for his plants. After all, you’re co-parenting now. 

Having your Wusband co-sign as your roommate for the next year is probably the best decision you have made this year. Everyday is like a breath of fresh air. With Seokjin gone for the year to tour his restaurant franchises, his room is yours for the taking. The two of you are easy going roommates, filling the apartment with color and vigour whether it be in the form of baking sweets or watching Netflix documentaries. 

The only drama you ever have is when you two are having a meltdown over the same work-related issue, as if you two somehow share the same brain cell. It’s significantly less stressful, no need for unnecessary anger when  you have someone as mediating as Namjoon.

After today’s plant lesson, you two go back to the living room to finish up your work for the evening. Another perk of living together is that you can go home at normal work times and continue where you left off with the comfort of your couch and eating a whole pizza pie with no shame. 

Namjoon’s phone pings with a new email from corporate. “We got the new concept for next month’s spread,” he gestures to you with a grandiose wave of his arm, “drumroll please.” 

He pulls up the newsletter from corporate with a flick of his thumb. Your company put out every month’s concept out in an Evite, like every month was a themed party. A stressful, month long work party. In seconds, the page loaded and you’re met with next month’s title bathed in electronic glitter. 

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth

The two of you say silent, absorbing the concept like a cookie to milk. It’s a personal spread this month, a real treat for the team to show off their normal non-professional life. A spread that reveals the masters behind the ink and text. Last year’s personal spread was about the staff’s vacation destinations, but this year’s is much more intimate. You can imagine all the ideas that will be thrown around on Monday’s meeting: pinning down shared ideas like Throwback Thursdays, late night munchie runs, drunk stories, and all the crazy college nostalgia that you’ve been trying to avoid as of late. 

But now it’s presented to you in a gold chalice, and while you’re sick of the past you think it’s about time to face it. You’re excited to tackle the dark monster you’ve suppressed since Jungkook and Jisoo’s breakup. 

“Did I ever tell you I was president of my university’s Mock Trial?” 

“No, I always thought you’d be president of the Comparative Literature Club or whatever. But Mock Trial is equally as nerdy.” 

“I’ll have you know Mock Trial got me tons of action,” he winked, “made me very convincing.” 

“Gross,” you sneer, “so that’s what your spread will be about? How the co-editor of the Arts & Entertainment section managed to bag with his skills from Mock Trial?” 

“Nah, I went on a penniless journey with Jin during spring break. Six days around Malta.” 

“That does sound so you,” you sigh, fingers slipping between the cracked screen as you mull over the overly happy Evite, “sounds like a cool story.” 

“I know that look,” Namjoon quips, snatching his phone under his nose, “don’t overthink your spread just yet, it’s still the weekend. Now to more important things, what do you want from Taco Bell?”

And because you can’t refuse the combined efforts of nachos and Namjoon’s dimples, you relent for the night and tack the unmade idea to the next workday. 

Unfortunately the next workday is just as disheartening. Today’s work meeting is the antithesis of icing on the cake. While your college life isn’t anything remarkable, you didn’t think it was a painfully dull time. With every passing moment and every excited co-worker throwing memories back and forth like ping pong balls, the more you felt inferior by competing with their amazing memories. 

“Who can even afford Aruba at twenty-one,” you mutter under your breath, stalking back to your cubicle. 

Filling up a whole spread is daunting to you, the thought of Victoria popping her head in your cubicle to ask what you’ve got for the day is practically eating you from the inside out. Maybe your college life was in actuality, super boring? You have no crazy drug trips to tell, any vacations that gave you a life-changing perspective, or an epic love story. 

“What’cha got there, partner?” 

The third musketeer of your editing team’s caramel eyes peer into your cubicle, causing you to jump in your chair. Vernon wheels around, chair and all to push you into your already cramped space. His gold button up gleams in the sunlight, effectively blinding you. 

“If by something you mean nothing, then yeah I got nothing,” you frown, spinning around your chair. “What are you writing about?” 

A fond smile melts onto your friend’s face, and you can’t help returning a smile that mirrors his own. You two have fallen back into a good place, as far as you know. He’s still easy, simple, sweet Vernon. When you dropped some boxes off in coloring, you heard that Vernon and Yerin have recently started seeing each other. 

“Thought of the idea as soon as the Evite came out. It’s more of a photo spread, but I’m gonna write about my study abroad in NYU,” Vernon ticks a pencil on his forehead, “a self-identity piece talking about how I felt like, not-white around my family n’stuff. And then felt not-Asian at the same time, s’complicated but I think I can make it work.” 

“Deep,” you pat his shoulder caringly, knowing that Big Hit is a good outlet for these kinds of subjects, “alright City Slicker, since you’re so full of ideas then tell me what to write about.” 

Vernon sits up straight, regarding you with narrowed eyes, “Aren’t you gonna write about your little love triangle with Jisoo and Jungkook?” and it seems like he’s already storyboarded the idea in his head, gesturing to the air as if he’s writing down a timeline, “I can see the headline now: How to Steal a Heart,” he’s grinning, nodding fervently as you cross your arms in distaste. 

“Vern, are you suggesting that I exploit Jisoo and Jungkook’s personal lives?” while the journalism business didn’t pride itself on sincerity, it did feel wrong to drag in your personal life to that extent. 

“Babe, you don’t understand. You have the perfect slice of life story. Everyone’s writing about expensive vacations and that one time they got cross-faded and ended up in Busan,” he squeezes your hand, “but your story, it’s relatable. It’s romantic. It’s angsty. It has closure. No one’s gonna be able to relate to an impulse spending on daddy’s money to Aruba. But first loves? Unrequited romance and all that ish? Everyone can speak to that. And you’re a beautiful writer, they’ll eat up that story like honey.” 

“I don’t know, it still doesn’t feel right.” 

“Change up the names, twist the story,” he offers easily, knowing you’d put up a fight, “besides, it’s not like you’re planning on talking to Jisoo or Jungkook ever again,” you open your mouth to retort, but Vernon’s phone beeps to the Star Wars theme song and he’s flying out of his chair. “Shoot, gotta go help Joon upstairs. Just think about it, okay? Good luck!” and he’s kicking his chair out with a brown loafer, leaving you with breathing room in your cubicle. 

Five seconds later Vernon is jogging back, pointing a finger at you, “And if you do choose to write it, you have to add that Jisoo copped your McDonalds gift card. Like, who does that shit? Couldn’t she have just given it to you and say it was from her and not Jungkook? Seriously fucked up.” 

For the next ten or so minutes you mull. Out of all the memorable college events you’ve participated in, the largest one by far is your (now defunct and debatable) friendship with Jisoo, and your (un)requited love for Jungkook. Reluctantly, you must admit Vernon has a sharp idea, busting in like a hero and offering you the most writable piece on a silver platter. 

It doesn’t feel morally right just to start writing, because ultimately you can’t feel comfortable until you get the consent of Jungkook. While you don’t want to touch Jisoo with a ten-meter pole, you do want to start talking to Jungkook again now that the waters have calmed.

Your life has moved gracefully up until this point, and you’d like to start being friends with him again. Decision made, you pull out your phone and make an important call.

“Hey Yoongi,” you say nervously. Min Yoongi is Kim Namjoon’s equivalent, Jungkook’s Wusband and former upperclassmen in college. 

Said man hums noncommittally on the other line, “Whaddya want, it’s been awhile.” 

You stifle a giggle at his apathetic attitude, knowing he’s someone who wastes no time in getting straight to the point. “I just wanna make sure Jungkook’s address is still the same? I know it’s been a couple months, but I need to send him something and I wanna make sure it gets to him ASAP because—”

“Because last time something was sent, your crazy roommate intervened and Jungkook ended up in a two-year half-toxic relationship? Yeah, let’s make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“Yoongi,” you say slowly, “where are you?” 

“Working in the studio,” he tuts, “Jungkook says hi, by the way.” 

Typical, cat’s out of the bag. With a roll of our eyes you reply, “Thanks for outing me, Yoongi. Talk to you later.” 

“And y/n? Jungkook says he’s waiting.” 

With a stupid smile slapped onto your face, you hang up the phone and pull out your stationary kit from under your desk. You pluck out a vermillion red envelope, a color so bold and begging to be seen, you know it can’t possibly get lost in transit. Feeling a little bit like a high schooler as you pull out a glitter jelly pen, you get to writing. 

Hey Pretty Boy...

Jungkook and Jisoo are no longer together, evidently. 

Their social media runs in different directions, with Jisoo sporting absolute elegance in her work at her family-owned boutique. Her posts are full of shiny outfits and soulless gazes, betraying any pinch of emotion she may have felt over these past few months. Her profile is wiped of any personal posts, all traces of you and Jungkook evaporated from her page. You must admit that she looks good, like a real fashion mogul, but only at the surface level. 

Conversely, Jungkook is thriving. It’s evident. Normally he isn’t the type of guy to post so frequently, his habits being often sporadic and limited to sweaty gym stories. But whenever you scroll, it’s pictures of him smiling. Big bunny teeth broken into a genuine, full-bellied laugh. Cute selfies of him and his co-workers. You notice two familiar co-workers in those posts, Irene and Seulgi, two beautiful women Jisoo always felt intimidated by whenever she ranted to you. You conclude positively that Jungkook doesn’t feel tethered and can hang out with all the friends he wants, female and male alike. Jungkook looks free, and you’re happy for him. 

It’s another Instagram-worthy moment tonight at McDonalds, where you and Jungkook proposed to meet each other at 12AM. 

This time, the letter makes it to its desired destination. You make sure of that because this time you hand-deliver it, slipping under his apartment door knowing he lives alone and no one would be able to access it except him. 

You’re parked in an obscure corner, but you can see that Jungkook is currently having a great time with his co-workers for an after work meal. Yoongi is unbothered on his phone, while Jimin and Seulgi are taking turns throwing fries into each other’s mouth. Jungkook is squished between them, scrunching his nose cutely as he tries not to get in the fray of their fry-war. 

Your phone pings, and you laugh at what pops up on the screen.

Yoongi: come inside, u loser. 

You: can’t ur friend group makes me nervous stop being so dang cute

You: dw i’ll wait, it’s only 11:50

Instead of replying, Yoongi puts his phone down and resumes eating. In turn you pick a playlist, deciding that “summer time high mix✨✨✨” is a theme you need to subscribe to for the rest of the weekend. 

Busying yourself by sending some texts to Namjoon and checking some emails, you relax in your seat as you let your brain turn to sludge for the weekend. You’re tired, eyes glazing over as you watch Yoongi elbow Jungkook harshly, forcing him to look out the foggy window. 

Jungkook’s eyes light up like it’s Christmas Eve, but instead of Christmas lights it's your car’s lowlights. The graphic designer  pays no mind to his friends as they wish him goodbye and goodluck, throwing on his jacket with a wave. 

The night air whizzes by, Jungkook’s floppy black strands bouncing with each step as he bounds to your car. He throws your door open, bringing in the cold air as he regards you as easily as an old friend would. 

“Hi,” he chirps, placing his tattooed palms by the air vent, “c’mon, let’s order.” 

“You know, you could’ve ordered inside and brought it in here.” 

“Yeah but then it would take longer to get to you,” the cheeky grin that Jungkook throws at you is unmistakable, “c’mon, get out the car and let’s switch.” 

“Huh?” 

“You look tired, you didn’t come back from the office again, did you?” 

“I did tonight,” you say, “I just really wanted to get the soft copy of the article done and—” 

“Out, out!” Jungkook clicks your seatbelt off and he’s coming out of the passenger side, opening your car and pulling you out by the hand, “c’mon, I’ll drive.” 

You shake your head, hiding your smile in your hand as you let Jungkook do what he wants. Normally you’d be insulted that anyone suggests they should drive your car but Jungkook would always drive you around, saying he loved long rides. Above all, if you could trust anyone to drive your car, Jungkook is at the top of the list. 

Buckling in, you bite the inside of your cheek as Jungkook easily pulls out of the parking spot one-handed. His jacket is pulled up to his elbows, exposing his veins as he expertly whirls the wheel in the direction of the drive-thru. Since college he’s always looked very attractive driving.  

Doesn’t mean you have to act like you’re still in college. You tamp those feelings down, knowing that your article probably has you feeling stuck in time. 

“—coming along?” 

“Wha?” 

“I said, how’s the spread coming along?” 

“It’s pretty much done, I think. I’ll send you the hard copy when it’s ready,” you tap your fingers against the dashboard, “but are you sure you’re okay with me writing it? I know I’m using a pseudonym and everything for you two but I still feel weird—” 

“It’s fine, I think it’s a good thing,” and you still squirm in your seat when he flashes you a genuine smile, “I mean, it kinda is a funny story and I think it’s good for both of us. Like closure, y’know? Moving on and—hi, can I get two Oreo McFlurrys and a large fry? Thanks!” he pulls out his wallet to scan the total on the e-reader.  “I mean, didn’t it feel good writing it?”

“Yeah,” you replied honestly, relaxing in your seat, “like, college was fun and all, but when Jisoo kinda ruined all that… after awhile I didn’t think it was ruined after all, y’know? I still made amazing friends and ended up where I wanted to be. I want to show the readers that shit happens, and that’s okay. And if things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.” 

The summer playlist hums in the background as Jungkook pulls up to the pick-up window. He thanks the worker and hands you the tray, and you make quick work to put the fries in the first cup holder for optimal sharing. He doesn’t park at McDonalds, but instead smoothly pulls out of the restaurant into the direction of his apartment. It isn’t a particularly long drive, but you figure it would be easier for Jungkook to go home first if you’re already parked at his complex. 

“What do you mean by that?” Jungkook parks in the driveway of his apartment, taking his McFlurry from your hands. 

“Mean by what?” 

“If things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.” 

“Well, we’re here now, right?” 

Jungkook pops his spoon in, swallowing vanilla and a silly smile through his coral pink lips, “We’re here now,” he repeats. 

The night air is cool and your conversation is warm. You promise Jungkook that you’ll send him the final copy of your spread as soon as it’s done, and you two eagerly deviate away from the past and focus on the present. 

You can’t help the eagerness that flows between you, as if you’ve never spent time apart like this and it’s only now that you’re reuniting. It must be absence that makes the heart grow fonder, because you swell with affection and you find Jungkook’s presence sweeter than any kind of ice cream. 

Are you dating now? Maybe. You and Jungkook are going on dates, everything without the title. McFlurry runs, marathons of HGTV’s Design on a Dime, having lunch at each other’s respective buildings with the Wusbands. Whether these dates are exclusive or not is unknown, but you figure the question will present yourself one way or another. 

You’re in a good place right now, potential relationship or not. After all, your priorities are simultaneously positive and in order: family, work, friends, and any potential romantic trysts are at the very bottom. You could kiss the cover of this month’s issue (and trust, you have kissed your own copy multiple times) if it is not for the fact that this specific issue is for Jungkook. 

So, romantic trysts and friends have a tendency to flip-flop on your priority list, but only because it’s Jungkook. 

Unsurprisingly, there’s no guilt knowing that you’re dating your former best friend's ex-boyfriend. 

After a much deserved early work day, Namjoon and the crew arrange a hearty happy-hour filled with good food and enough relaxation to last the weekend. With your combined successes, your team felt like they made the best issue yet. At the heart of it, The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth became a reckoning of each other’s young life. Despite the love and the growth that occurred from your college years up until this point, you’re glad to close that chapter and move forward. 

You did not tell Jungkook when the issue would come out, so you think it’ll be a fun surprise for him when he sees it magically show up at his apartment. Bending down you move to slip the issue under his door, one hand pushing it under while one hand braces against the frame to steady your balance. 

Just as the shiny cover glides under the door it swings open, and you fall flat on Jungkook’s feet. 

Being the little shit he is, he simply giggles at the blunder, looking at you with excited eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he says. 

“Creepy as hell, Jeon,” you mutter under your breath, brushing the dirt off your aqua pencil skirt. Looking at him from your spot on the floor and his large height, you grimace. “You look like a middle-aged serial killer looking outside your peephole.” 

“Now, we know that’s not true.” he finally offers his hand, easily pulling you up to your feet. You follow him into his kitchen, where he’s cutting up fresh fruit. He throws your issue on the counter, gentle enough so it doesn’t slide off the granite. He gestures to himself with both hands, “me, a dashingly handsome late twenty-something in Nike sweats who can bench-press two of you? Totally not a middle-aged serial killer.” 

“It’s in the eyes,” you chastise, “you look crazy.” 

“Maybe I’m just crazy excited to see you,” he says with a cheeky grin. 

You try your best not to choke on your spit at the cheeseball comment, throwing a blackberry in your mouth. Savoring the burst of tart flavor that fills your mouth, you wait for Jungkook to plate the fruit before meeting him on the couch. He’s holding a prettily arranged plate of berries, bananas, and mango with a huge dollop of whipped cream in the middle. In his other hand is Big Hit’s magazine. 

Throwing your blazer on the couch’s arm you don’t hesitate to cuddle up next to him, eagerly waiting for him to read your spread. 

The cover gazes back at the two of you like a reflection. The entirety of the staff is posed on the cover, made to look like a class photo. Some of you are holding balloons in your respective school colors, many of you grouping up with whoever happened to go to college together. You and Vernon are wearing matching university sweaters with silly grins on your faces. In the middle of the issue is the editor-in-chief, Victoria Song holding a placard that reads: Class of Youth. 

Jungkook spares you a glance from the corner of his eye, your head naturally tucked into his shoulder. With an exaggerated sigh, he fiddles through the glossy pages, “Hmm, which one should I read first?” 

“Of course you’ll read mine first,” you pout. 

“Ah, Namjoon’s looks really fun. Or Vernon’s? New York looks pretty cool,” he flips to a random page, “wait, Yerin’s spread is a Korean cookbook! I definitely want to make some tuna rice...”  

“Jungkook,” you whine, “read mine.” 

“I don’t know,” he taps his finger on his lip, “I mean, I pretty much know your spread because I’m already in it. It would be kind of redundant to read it.” 

“Kook, you’re being mean,” you glower, rubbing your cheek against his soft sweater. He’s just so damn comfy. 

“I’m kidding,” he tugs at your cheek, “where’s the table of contents, first page?”

“I’m on page eighty-three.” 

You speed up the process like an impatient child, leaning over to brush the pages to the desired spread. You even dog-earred it, a habit that drives Jungkook crazy as he immediately fiddles to iron out the crease. 

“Are you gonna read it to me too, mom?” he teases. 

“Okay fine! I’ll be quiet, but don’t take too long.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Eyes fluttering, you let Jungkook take his time to absorb your piece. A roommate by any other (rude) name: the lost letter. A cheesy, gimmicky title that Victoria insisted upon that you had no choice but relent to. The rest of the spread thankfully has a very authentic edge to it, your story laced with photos of you and Jungkook, your internship with Vernon, and most importantly, a scan of the lavender letter that got left in the past. 

Jungkook’s not silent through his read-through, either. He laughs at all the right parts, fueling your ego as his smile grows at your favorite lines. While he doesn’t directly engage in conversation, his positive energy is enough for you to make you feel like you’ve done your job right. It’s one thing to write about unknown celebrities and unnamed artists, but for people like Jungkook, the validation is personal. 

“It’s beautiful,” Jungkook says when he’s read it thrice through, running his thumb over a picture of you. “Really organic. Really, real.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he chuckles, having run out of adverbs. “It’s funny, too. I liked your little internal monologue. I wish I knew how you felt back then.” 

“I wish you did, too.” 

You’re quietly munching on a strawberry, looking over a polaroid Jungkook took. It was  sometime in the beginning of senior year, where you’ve fallen asleep on his mattress, drool drying on your mouth. Normally you’d be opposed to having such unflattering, grainy pictures amongst your writing, but it encapsulates the youth you’ve tried so hard to chase away. 

“How do you feel?” Jungkook says, switching out the magazine for the plate of fruit, placing it on his side. 

“Feel great, actually,” you muse, smiling to yourself. By no means are you a hero writing some grand gesture in an entertainment magazine, but you feel like you’ve saved yourself. You’ve savored your youth in four thousand words, cutting out the poison and keeping the moment as sweet as it can be. 

“I’m proud of you,” he reaches to ruffle your hair, and you don’t even get mad when it tousles out of your pinned style. 

Reveling in the attention, you simply close your eyes and feed yourself a handful of blueberries. 

“Love that I make money, but I definitely miss college from time to time,” Jungkook stretches, jostling you out of your comfortable position. “Like I remember Taehyung and I would take turns bringing backpacks to the dining hall so we could stuff fruit in it for later.”

“Yeah, but as much as I loved college I wouldn’t go back,” you nod to yourself, “I’m happy where I am now.” 

“What about when we stayed up for midnight breakfast? The dining hall was filled to the brim with food. Remember when I tried to eat a whole stack of pancakes?” 

“Jungkook…” 

“Or when our classes got cancelled and we went to Lotte World? You ate way too much funnel cake and I had to carry you to the car!” 

“Jungkook—” 

“And that one time we snuck out to the music hall’s rooftop?” words gush out of Jungkook’s mouth like a waterfall, unable to relent, “that’s when I realized I liked you. I liked you so much, I tried to tell you that night but choked—”

“Jungkook!” and he immediately zips up, frowning. You straighten up, on your knees as you reach over to run your hands through his onyx tresses, moving the styled strands to the back of his pierced ears, “Jungkook,” you repeat softly, “I’ve heard all these stories, I was there for most of them. As much as I love the past… can we talk about something else?” you give him a small, tentative smile to show him you’re not mad, but a little uncomfortable at his reminiscing. 

He leans into your touch, pressing your palm against the soft swell of his warm cheek. “Okay,” he agrees, resting one hand on your thigh. 

You’re roped in his gaze, and you have to force yourself to breathe when Jungkook moves closer to you. He hooks a leg behind his back, and another across his lap. A cool breeze kisses your inner thighs when your skirt exposes your cotton underwear. You should be embarrassed but instead you’re fixated, unable to understand what he’s trying to accomplish. 

“Then I’m gonna talk about the future,” Jungkook traps you between the couch, his thumb running hot circles to where your skirt has hiked up. It exposes a slip of the thigh that Jungkook has seen a million times. He’s seen you walking around your apartment in a large shirt, ridden up to your boyshorts. It’s different now, you feel exposed and tingly, thrumming with excitement. “I like you, obviously anticipated news and old news. I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to go on dates with you, re-watch Avatar, grumble when I force you to come to the gym with me,” he bumps noses with you when you scrunch yours, “I wanna be with you. Heck, I’ve even cleared space in my spare room so you’d have closet space for all your fancy designer suits if you ever need it.”

“You cleared space?” you manage to choke out. Visions of a shared apartment roll through your brain. Cooking meals together, having two toothbrushes side by side, and waking up to his face. 

“Of course I did. Do you know how financially attractive you are?” he says lightheartedly, “you’re a sexy working woman and it’s crazy to imagine you’d want to settle for me and my little apartment. But I have to try now because if I don’t, it’ll be too late.” 

“That’s not true,” you retort, “you’re not someone I’d settle for. I want you, and no one else.” 

He chuckles, running a thumb over your cheek. “Then what are we waiting for? Your key’s hiding under the mat.” 

“Jungkook…” on the tip of your tongue lays the words you’re going too fast but it doesn’t make its way to the air. 

“But do you really think it’s too fast?” he reads your face clearly, “these feelings never went anywhere. They were locked away, sure. And I loved her,” he can’t even say the name, not when you’re warm and flush against him, “but I loved our friendship more.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you breathe, letting the cogs in your brain roll until sparks develop. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he concedes, “I just wanted to let you know. Could’ve done the letter thing all over again and let the past repeat itself. I know Namjoon wouldn’t hide a love letter for two years, but if I left another damn letter he’d definitely make a copy and tease me about it.” 

You snort, pressing your forehead to his. You’re practically buried in the couch now, tingly and vibrating with happiness. “And I’m not going to leave you hanging. I do want to say something,” and he looks at you expectantly, licking the leftover berry juice on his lips, nearly making you miss your train of thought, “I like you too,” you say, the other L-word is also applicable, but you feel like that phrase is reserved for another time, “I want to show you off on work vacations, bring you along as my date and show them you’re my muse,” you confess, “I wanna play video games with you ‘till 2AM, and eat ice cream in the comfort of our apartment instead of our cars because we’re too stubborn to admit we don’t wanna go home without each other.” 

Jungkook absolutely preens at the affection, sending you a heart melting smile that has your stomach doing backflips.

“Jungkook, I want to fall in love with you again.” 

Your squeal of surprise is swallowed by Jungkook’s lips, tasting of mangoes and berries as strong hands cup your backside, easily lifting you onto his lap. You plop under his strong thighs, feeling them flex against yours. The both of you are pouring in this kiss, raining with promises and hopes for a future with each other. His taste is concentrated, and you can feel the devotion practically injected in his embrace. 

When he pulls away his lips are cherry-red and shiny, looking up at you through clear coffee eyes. “This isn’t a dream, right?” he looks at you up and down, unable to decipher fact from fiction, “because I distinctly remember two wet dreams that involve you looking like this.” 

Looking down, you heat at the disarray you’re in. Hair wild and parted in different wavelengths, tired of the day’s efforts. Your slightly sheer dress-shirt is rumpled, the lace collar opened with two popped buttons revealing your cleavage, and your skirt is stretched so tight that it’s ruched all the way up your thighs. Sprawled across Jungkook’s lap, you’re dangerously close to something long and hard. 

Emboldened, you clutch at Jungkook’s collar, pulling him closer. 

“Show me what happens in your dream,” you whisper into his ear, barely brushing your clothed core against his crotch, “maybe we can make it come true tonight.” 

You can’t see his face, but you feel something dark and sensual overtake him. The grip on your ass tightens, a delicious pain that has you pressing your breasts against him and nipping on his ear, your tongue darting sensually through the cold silver hoops that dart through his skin. 

Within seconds, he rips you away from his neck and demands, “Open.” 

Dazed, you barely get a centimeter of your mouth open when Jungkook presses something cold and sugary against your lips. Whipped cream. You manage to take a small bite of the tart strawberry that he holds by the viridian stem, rolling the flavor between your mouth as Jungkook paints the leftover whipped cream over your lips. Once he’s satisfied he then creates a white trail that leads to your cleavage. 

Better than any dream, his eyes drink you in like the last glass of water in a desert. Your lips are swollen and parted like a baby kitten, covered in the creamy confection. “So pretty,” he exhales, his hot tongue licking from your cleavage to your lips, swallowing the flavor of you and strawberry juice, “such a pretty girl you are, and all mine.” 

“Yours,” you submit easily, rolling your hips against his. 

At that moment you think you’re meant to fall in love this way. You can’t imagine the shy, fumbly Jungkook and your equally confused self waltzing around a relationship when you barely had your lives together. The two of you still had growing to do. The wait is certainly worth it, because as you feel his arms tighten around you, you’re sure this love will stay strong.

It’s difficult for you to find a rhythm at first, what with Jungkook’s strength and need to be satiated, both of you are sloppy but the friction is nothing less than delicious. Your finger reaches over to swipe at the leftover cream on the plate, and you press your finger to Jungkook’s mouth, and he immediately complies. A dollop of sweet cream leaks out of his lips and your panties dampen further when you feel his tongue lick you clean, imagaining how good it would feel if it was your pussy he was licking. 

Your mouth waters at the feeling of his dick lining up against your core, as sticky as the strawberry juice that clings to your bodies. 

“C-can I make a confession? I—oh, Jungkook…” your mind is all fuzzed up when he snaps his hips against yours, causing you to shamelessly bounce on his length. 

“Yeah?” 

“I… I like it when you use all your strength like that,” his hips slow as your words sink in, but you don’t mind as it gives you time to make a long drag along the entirety of his member. “Everytime you pull me up when I trip, or you come back from a workout, I like it when you carry me around like I weigh nothing.” 

“Do—do you think about it a lot?” he grunts, and you stifle a moan when he does a slow, hard drag against your wet folds. “Tell the truth.” 

“It’s, it’s embarrassing,” you whimper, unable to think straight with the amount of stimuli you’re receiving.  

“Please, baby.” 

“Yes mm—oh! I do,” you try to get the words out as quickly as you can. He stops moving, and you groan in frustration so you just lay it all out on the table. “I, I love it when you hold me in your strong arms. And, ah, uh w-henever you come back from the gym you just look so sexy fresh from the shower. Sometimes I think about how you’re too damn nice for your own good but I bet you’d be so rough in bed.” 

“Really?” and then he’s shoving you onto the couch, air brushing against your bare thighs as your back hits the beige throw pillows. He’s hovering, dark eyes starting from the tip of your toes to your damp lips. “You like it when I manhandle you? Throw you around like a little doll?” 

“All that strength, and for what?” you try to keep your snappy remarks in check, but it’s hard when he’s pressing his straining dick against your thigh, weeping and needy. 

“You’re not gonna be joking about my strength anytime soon, baby,” emblazoned, he easily throws your leg over his shoulder, pushing your panties to the side to let your wetness leak out and onto his fingers, “are you gonna complain or be a good girl?” 

“Yes, I’m ah—” you wince when he inserts a finger, “I’ll be good for you,” 

“My good girl,” he revels in the way you melt under his touch, your previous sarcasm quickly dissolving into a puddle. You always had an inkling that Jungkook would be a sneaky fox in bed, all that muscle hidden behind a kind smile and a penchant for tea with milk and honey. 

Jungkook slips in another finger, stretching you and preparing you for what’s to come. He’s scissoring you at a sensible pace that has you squirming and wanting more. To prevent you from shimmying off the couch he holds you down with his free hand, and you love the way he practically feeds you to the couch, hands dancing over your neck as he shoves you further into the furniture. 

“You look so gorgeous,” he says, causing you to moan and keen at his attention, “you’re such a strong, gorgeous woman. Having you sprawled out like this, ready to do whatever I want to you is so fucking hot.” 

“I’m—I’m only weak for you Jungkook,” you say honestly, tears pricking when he dips another finger. The stretch burns deliciously, and your folds eagerly swallow him up until you’re filled to the brim. Your fingers or toys cannot compare to flesh, and you sigh in relief when you see his inked fingers pick up the pace once more. 

“You’re damn right,” Jungkook husks, and with a grain of love he murmurs in your ear, “I’m only weak for you, too.” 

And that’s when he snaps, thumb rolling against your bud as he slams his other fingers against you, going at a brutal pace. You cry out, not caring whether his neighbors hear as he pulls you back and forth through pleasure and pain. 

“T-too much, Kookie,” you mewl, your hand warbling to find his, “I, ah, ‘m gonna cum!” 

“That’s the plan,” he only goes faster, stretching your band further and further before your desired high is reached. His hand trails up to force your chin straight, looking up at him, “let go for me, baby. Wanna feel your pussy clench around my fingers.” 

In seconds, you gush. It has you in a slight panic, drunk on endorphins as you try to lift your head up but Jungkook’s hand is firmly pressing you on your shoulder as he fingers you efficiently through your high, the wet squelching sounds only increasing with your cries. His lap is drenched in your arousal, along with his chin and lips glistening with your essence. 

He finally releases you when you’re practically shaking, his hands sticky and creamy. You moan when he shamelessly licks them within your view, making sure to wrap his tongue around his ink-stained digits. 

“I,” your mouth is dry when you feel the dampness that hits your bottom, “I’ve never, I don’t remember ever—” 

Your babbles are lost between your throat and Jungkook’s tongue, shoved deep into your mouth. Tasting your arousal has you practically vibrating in your place, as you two rut against each other like hungry bunnies. 

“God, you’re amazing,” he says between pecks, kissing away your face of any tears you may have pricked, “Amazing, adorable, absolutely beautifulIadoreyousoso—” 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you press your hips up, wiggling for more attention, “please fuck me, Jungkook.” 

You can’t help the witchy, satisfied smile when Jungkook’s eyes darken to a thick coal, “Anything for you,” he murmurs, swinging your legs between his arms as he lifts you like a feather. 

On his lap again, you soon accept that the way you two mesh like puzzle pieces is one of your favorite positions as it gives you both equal space to ravish each other. 

Just when your hand trails to the waistband of his boxer briefs and you’re rolling your thumb over its collected moisture, the moment is shattered when the doorbell rings. You jump in his arms, unprepared for your moment to be interrupted. 

He groans into the crown of your hair, and you soften in his relaxed hold, “I ordered us pizza,” he nearly forgot. 

Perking your head up to look at him you regard him innocently, as if you didn’t release a waterfall on his sweats two seconds ago. “You got us pizza?” 

“I knew you’d be coming over tonight,” he’s pouting into your neck, regretting ever having called the pizza guy if he knew this would happen, “Victoria posted the publish date on Twitter. I just didn’t think,” he gestures vaguely to the mess on his pants, “this would happen.”  

“Damn, and here I thought I was being sneaky,” you chuckle, flicking his ear playfully. 

He gives you an uncharacteristically subby whine, shamelessly upset he has to let you go so fast after he’s given you your first of many highs. Before he weakens further under your beauty, he unceremoniously shoves you off. “Sorry, pretty girl,” you melt at the easy way his pet name rolls off his lips, “can you wait in my room for a bit so I can pay the delivery guy? I don’t want them to see you like this.” 

“But I want to eat pizza,” you declare stubbornly, standing up to button your blouse and pull down your skirt. 

Before you could fasten one button or pull down one centimeter, his hand darts out to snatch your wrist away from your body. It doesn’t hurt much, but it causes your body to heat in more places than one. He’s sexy like this, demanding your attention. “No,” he rumbles definitively, “my room. Now.” 

“Why?” you throw your hands in the air, yelping when he slaps your ass. He makes sure to make it sting, cupping you fully. 

“Because,” he says firmly, “you don’t get to eat until I eat,” you whimper when his hand reaches to cup your sex, panties wet and cold without his warmth as he pushes you in the direction of his bedroom. 

Oh, you can’t wait for both of you to eat tonight. 

some time later.

“Ohmygod the view is beautiful!” Krystal, who works in advertisement, squeals. “No filter needed!” 

“Alright alright, make room Princess,” Namjoon teases. With a bump to Krystal’s tiny hips Namjoon shoves you two across the pavilion, putting his arm around you once he finds the perfect angle, “Umji, can you get a pic of me and my Work Wife? I want this on the Big Hit Instagram!” 

You hold your straw sunhat down from the salty wind, smiling beautifully as Umji takes multiple pictures of you and Namjoon from her Nikon. Another successful year under your notch, ending with a successful work retreat. 

“Namjoon, can I take a picture with my actual wife now?” 

“We’re not married, Jungkook,” you chastise, patting the chest of Namjoon’s floral printed Hawaiian shirt so he can switch. Instantly, Jungkook slides up next to you like a picture perfect stock model piece, and you wrap your arms around his trim waist, “we’re not even engaged.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he pouts, looking over the pavilion and adjusting the both of you so there’s a good amount of you and the resort in the background. The sun may be scathingly hot, but it looks beautiful perched over the crystal clear waters. “Namjoon, you got it easy,” Jungkook says when he hands him your phone, “every angle is our good angle, so you can’t mess it up.” 

Being the honest man he is, Namjoon knows better and doesn’t say anything to that. Instead he shoots down whatever pineapple-flavored concoction is offered to him on a silver platter, and starts shooting. 

“Is this swimsuit new?” Jungkook murmurs into your ear between shots, flicking your little red number by the strap connecting the back, “because I didn’t see this in the luggage.” 

You smile big, pearly whites as Namjoon demands to pop out your butt and work it, pressing your body closer to Jungkook’s. “Tiny enough so I could hide it in my purse,” you reply proudly, voice low for only each other’s ears, “why, surprised?” 

“Definitely not prepared,” his fingers dig deliciously in your bare flesh, “would Victoria fire you if she catches us doing it in the cabana?” 

Amused that your boyfriend now shares your combined awe and fear of your boss, you twist his nipple lightly. He yelps, and from Namjoon’s guaff he’s definitely got that on camera. “We didn’t come to Boracay to fuck in the cabana.” 

“Then the hotel room?” 

Namjoon hands you back your phone when he considers his job done, letting you and Jungkook have some alone time. You wave your phone in his face, trying to get him to focus on the task at hand. You wanted to post some cute pictures of you and your boyfriend, one to impress the family back home and the Big Hit interns back in Seoul who are absolutely pining for your position. 

“Jungkook, they have the water ski thing where you can flip in the water mid air! Doesn’t that sound fun? Or we can go scuba diving, have Filipino food, or get massages. LIterally, we’re on Big Hit’s dime, and the first thing you want to do is go back to the room?” 

“Yes,” he pouts petulantly, leaning into the hollow of your ear and whispering, “got a chub on.” 

Discreetly so, your hands brush against his navy trunks and you note yes, he’s half hard. “No!” you shake your head definitively, pushing him out of your arms. You’re not letting sex get in the way of your hard-earned vacation, you’re on company dime and you intend to milk every peso of it. “Namjoon, take him away!” 

You blow him a kiss and follow another group who’s decided to go eat, watching your boyfriend get dragged away by Namjoon’s long arms. Krystal, who’s been mildly watching the whole ordeal in-between taking selfies, looks at you in awe, “You got it good, bosslady,” she says, and you happily link arms with her in the direction of the restaurants. 

You and Jungkook definitely have it good. You don’t see him until dinnertime, looking utterly relaxed as he sips on a mango-muddled concoction. He must’ve gotten a couples massage with Namjoon, cute. Splitting up was definitely a good idea, by the time your meal arrives the two of you are practically leaning against each other, telling each other what events you need to do tomorrow and events you think will be fun to do together. 

“Joon,” Jungkook is throwing an arm over your Wusband’s shoulder, mildly tipsy. The image is adorable, as Jungkook long ago previously confessed that he felt a little jealous of Namjoon’s work relationship with you before you were dating. Now, it feels like they’re best friends and you’re third-wheeling. “What do you think about having halo-halo tomorrow? It’s like bingsu but with a bunch of other good stuffs. There’s red bean, mango, ube, ice cream…” 

Just as Jungkook begins his tirade of dessert ingredients, you pull up your phone to check on your social media. You smile back at your profile, seeing your latest Instagram post at the very top of the feed. Not to flex, but the two of you look pretty smokin’ since you’ve been keeping up with Jungkook’s insistence to join him at the gym. Jungkook and you are leaning against the pristine veranda, overlooking the clear blue water and a cloudless sky. The smiles you two sport are genuine and utterly in love. 

You scroll down the comments, most of them filled with sweet messages but one of them has you doing a double take. 

@sooyaaa__: 😒😒😒 knew something was goin on behind my back… good riddance

The smell of Jungkook’s detergent overtakes your nostrils, and you turn to him. He’s stopped talking, now immersed in whatever’s going on in your phone. 

“The nerve of her,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, disgusted at her latest comment. “As if anyone would believe her.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, “I feel bad for her, though. She’s probably lonely.” 

“Her loss, she put this upon herself. Not us.” 

You pout, “I know, but she was my friend at one point.” 

He frowns, putting an arm behind your backrest. It would be easy for him to say yeah, and she was my girlfriend and one-up you, leaving it at that. But now he knows better, and that friendship is a much better value than an ill-fated relationship. “Sorry baby,” it’s not his fault, but he sees your disappointment in putting out hope for an old friend. He gives you a little smooch on your temple, “do you miss her?” 

“The old her, yeah,” you sigh, clicking on her profile, “but now? I can do without her negativity.” 

“Okay,” he takes your phone from your hand, “have you ever blocked a person before?”

“No.”

“Well, today’s the day,” he says it so coolly, you barely have time to think when he clicks the ‘block’ button on Jisoo’s profile, then clicking off his phone to put in his pocket. “No more phone for today,” he proceeds to take your plate that was recently served, taking the time to cut your large vegetables into smaller portions. “Like you said, we shouldn’t waste your vacation time.” 

Your heart swells with butterflies for Jeon Jungkook, who’s meticulously cutting your food and telling you to relax and stop dwelling on the past. He’s right, if Jisoo’s not going to stick around for the future and continue to cause negativity in your life, why not keep the positives in the past while it lasted? 

“You know I love you, right?” 

He ceases cutting, and looks at you to pop a sweet potato in his mouth. “Love me enough to do it in the cabana?” 

He’s still on that? “Jungkook,” you warn, pretending to get up, “forget I said anything. I’m gonna go karaoke with Umji.” 

“Kiddingggg,” he whines, pulling you back down with an outstretched hand, “you know I love you too.” 

“You’re terrible.” 

“Only this way because I’d know you’d totally be into cabana sex if we were vacationing by ourselves.” 

“Yes, but you’re still terrible,” you giggle when Jungkook steals a kiss, just as easy as he’s stolen your heart.  

[clairecrive]

can u make a nikolai x reader based on the song mr perfectly fine by taylor swift?

Mr Perfectly fine

A/n: Ahh, thank to you friend, I've been jamming to this song every day lmao Hope I've done it justice x Also, I've left out some parts of the lyrics to make it better fit the story.

(if you want, you can add yourself to my taglist here)

for my other masterlists, you can find them on my navigation page

Word count: more than 7K (ikik it took a life of his own, what can I say)

Warnings: bit of fluff, angst (like a lot), character's death, spoiler if you haven't read Siege and Storm

Tagging: @jupiterandbutterflies (Thank you so much for your comment! I saw it and it made my day✨)

(I don't remember where I took this from so if you know pls lmk)

Most people knew of Nikolai Lanstov. He was a prince, the second born and the most charming. Most people knew him thanks to the countless rumours that went around at court: supposedly he was not of royal blood. "Sobachka" was what they called him.

No matter how though, everyone knew of the last Lanstov prince. But very little knew him.

Meeting him wasn't difficult. Since he had been of age, Nikolai had always been out of the Grand Palace and among people. He’d also volunteered to enlist in the first army, refusing any kind of special treatment and fought beside his brothers in arms in the infantry. That was part of the reason why everyone outside the court loved him so much.

Being Grisha meant that fighting in the Second Army was mandatory. Not that you minded. There was nothing you wanted more for your people than to finally be free. Also, that Shadow Fold needed to go and as the Darkling has always said, all efforts are necessary.

That’s how you met Nikolai the first time. Generally, the First and the Second Army were stationed in different parts of the campsite. Numerous quarrels between oprichniki and Grisha had rendered the separation necessary. However, you never liked crowds much and living in the Little Palace meant that you were always surrounded by people. So, every chance you had to draw away and be by yourself for a while, you took it. Also, being a Healer meant that you’d spent more time in your assigned tent taking care of soldiers than among them.

Word had gone around that everyone in need could come to you. Usually, you had been instructed by the Darkling that your powers were reserved for Grisha. However, what good was it to have the ability to cure people and only take care of a selected few that very rarely got seriously injured? Meanwhile, soldiers of the First Army often suffered from severe injuries, fatal gunshots or knife wounds. You could help them and possibly save their lives so why shouldn’t you?

That was why Nikolai found you one night. Sure at that point it was just another nameless soldier to you. He had never been in your tent before so you had never seen his face before. The boy whose arm he had draped on his shoulders though, was a usual visitor of yours.

“Oh, Petyr, what happened this time?” gesturing to his blond friend to lay him down on the table, you started gathering everything you needed. Not that you needed much but you had found out that Petyr was absolutely incapable of bearing having his bones or injuries in general repaired without having some kind of pain reliever before.

After a few tries, you came up with a herbal composition that dulled the pain but didn’t make him unconscious. Using kvas would mean that Petyr would be knocked out for a couple of hours. That would put him in trouble with his superiors.

“He’s a fool, that’s what happened.” The explanation came from his friend after he put him down gently. Despite his words, you could hear in his tone worry and guilt?

“If saving your life makes me a fool then go ahead and call me one,” Petyr huffed in pain.

“Who knew you were so brave, uh?” After quickly shredding the herbs you needed, you poured hot water on it and brought the cup to Petyr’s lips while helping him keep his head up.

“He’s the bravest of us all,”

“If I knew it took a bullet wound to make you hand out compliments so easily, I would have done it sooner.” Scoffed Petyr after sending you a thankful look.

“See? What did I tell you? A fool,” his friend said dramatically and you smiled amused at their playful banter.

“Let’s see what we’re dealing with, shall we?” You said out loud to warn both Petyr and his friend. Letting them know what was about to happen was best, your experience taught you. Both for the person on the table that could brace themselves for what was about to happen and for the person with him that was filled with worry and cautiousness. Oprichniki didn’t trust Grisha that much.

After assessing the damage, you let out a relieved sigh as the bullet had gotten through and it had not hit any major artery. It had already got infected though, so you knew it would be a painful one to treat.

“So, did you receive any letters lately, Pety?” You ask, suggestively wiggling your eyebrows while your hands cover the wound. You had your eyes closed to better focus but you were sure that he had rolled his eyes.

“Only from my mum.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t write her back,” you said, opening your eye just in time to send him a glare.

“Ugh, not this again, y/n, please. Have mercy on me, I’m bleeding all over the table.” Petyr moaned making his friend snicker.

“You’re not bleeding all over the table and if you didn’t notice, I’m already taking care of you, am I not? That doesn’t excuse you for being an idiot, though.”

“Are you two in cahoots or something? It’s not fair. Wounded man over here.”

“Oh shut up.” Both you and his blond friend said at the same time. Petyr moaned once again and you sent a little amused smile to the blondie.

“Should I leave you with a cool battle scar? Maybe acting like a war hero will give you the balls to write to her.” You harmlessly threatened him but your hands were already reconnecting the tissue of his skin without letting it scar.

“I’ve told you, y/n. She deserves better than what I can give her. I am, who knows if I even make it home? I’d be only stringing her along.” Now Petyr was dead serious. It was true, you had talked about this often since he was a regular you got to know him better and he had soon told you about his sweet Katia.

While his friend chanted “fool” like a mantra in the background, you took his bloodied hand in yours, his wound fully healed.

“Petyr, how do you think she’s gonna react when she learns that there hasn’t been any delay to her letters but you’re just ignoring her? Besides, you should let her make this decision too. Who knows, she’ll surprise you.” Squeezing his hand you turned to let your words settle and to put away your utensils. You knew you had given him so much food for thought so you didn’t address the subject anymore. His friend helped him off the table and that’s when you noticed that he was injured too. He had a pretty nasty cut on his lower lip and there was already a bruise forming on his temple.

“Petyr, you can sit on my chair while I take care of your friend. You should be fine but for at least a while don’t stress your body.”

Mentally making a list of the things you need to tend to this kind of wound and where you kept them, you started collecting before heading back to them.

Petyr had sat down but his friend was still standing.

“You don’t have to lie down if you don’t want to, but unless you don’t want me to go take a ladder or something, it would be best if you sat on the table.” You gave him your best reassuring smile as you mixed the healing paste. Sometimes, men didn’t like to put themselves in a vulnerable position with someone they didn’t know and had learned to fear. He wasn’t that badly hurt and it would only take a couple of seconds to fix but not every oprichniki was comfortable with being healed by Grisha power. So the paste would do your job for you. It would take longer, sure and it would also sting a lot more but at least he’d be healed at last.

After looking at you for a little while, the blond man did as you instructed, giving you a dazzling smile in return when you settled between his legs to fix his cut.

“The name is Nikolai or handsome if you prefer.” It was not the first time a wounded soldier tried to flirt with you. IT didn’t bother you, you found them amusing more than anything and you knew it was the allure of someone taking care of them speaking more than any real interest.

“Let’s hope you won’t be around here much for me to learn your name.”

“I’ll have to find another way to make myself unforgettable then.” He winked at you before hopping off the table.

You didn’t address his words, only gave them the paste you had prepared. It would prevent any wound from being infected and would be able to cure small cuts and bruises if applied for a couple of days. With that, you sent them both on their way. Petyr waving you goodbye while Nikolai sent you another wink.

And so this was how it all started.

Mr. "Perfect face"

Mr. "Here to stay"

Mr. "Looked me in the eye and told me you would never go away"

Everything was right

Despite your fellow Grisha, military life could be a bit alienating. Which sounded like a paradox, sure, but everyone had their own way of processing trauma and emotions and of course there were plenty of those during the war. If the best way to come to terms with everything that happened was to distance yourself from others and try to find the solution in solitude, it could get to the point where you’d feel alone in a room full of people.

To get a little respite, you’d usually go on a long walk or resort to stargaze. Sometimes, depending on where you were posted, it wasn’t safe to leave the campsite. So, that’s how Nikolai found you one night. Even he had to take a breather once in a while. Being a different version of yourself based on who you’re interlocutor was must be exhausting. Of course, you didn’t know this. You knew nothing about Nikolai at that point if not that he was Petyr’s friend and a socialite, according to other soldiers.

He seemed to be at the centre of gossip no matter what group of people you found yourself with and there also seemed to be a consensus about him. Everyone liked him. Even if it was rare for some Grisha to appreciate oprichniki, you knew they somewhat respected him because if they didn’t praise him out loud, they didn’t speak ill of him either.

“Not a fan of crowds, are you?” he announced his presence before sitting down beside you.

“I love them, I really do. It’s just that sometimes it gets too much.”

“Yeah, I know how you feel.”

“You do? Everyone seems to think you’re a socialite.”

“It’s what I want them to think but alas, I enjoy being more complex and multifaceted than that.” He lightly bumped your shoulder with his, eyes aflame with mischief.

“I bet.” you simply smirked. Despite how everyone seemed to think they knew him, you got the peculiar vibe from him, like there was a lot more to him than what he let everyone see.

“No one seems to know much about you.”

“Maybe you’ve talked to the wrong people.”

“Well, then I guess it’s better if I got straight to the source, don’t you think?”

“That will surely be a better start. Not sure you’ll find what you’re looking for though.”

“We’ll see.”

That night had been the first of many. It had become a sort of an unspoken arrangement between the two of you. While it didn’t last long, you sensed that you got to know him better than everyone. There was something about late nights meetings under the stars that prompted deep and meaningful conversations. It wasn’t hard to form a solid bond with him after a few nights.

The conversations weren’t always personal in the conventional sense. You’d often stray and talk about the most bizarre things. Like why something had the name it had or how cool it’d be if it was possible to pass through surfaces, which led to imagine all the uncomfortable situations one could find themselves in if they were to simply go into a room through its wall.

Nikolai was witty, overly confident and ambitious and he knew a lot of things. You always wondered how he had learned them since he was so young and been in the army for a couple of years already. But Nikolai was never too forward on certain topics, his family and childhood being some of those. You understood, those were sore subjects for you too. So you never insisted. It was much more interesting to listen to him rumble about impossible future projects of his, like a flying ship.

"When people say impossible, they usually mean improbable." He’d say whenever you’d point it out to him. Somehow, despite the absolute absurdity of them, the sheer confidence that he seemed to constantly exude, made you consider the possibility of his success.

You got the distinct feeling that there was nothing this man couldn’t do.

But that was when I got to know Mr. "Change of heart"

Mr. "Leaves me all alone," I fall apart

It takes everything in me just to get up each day

But it's wonderful to see that you're okay

But, alas, as all things do, these encounters of yours also got to an end. You knew it would happen, you were both soldiers so your lives were both heavily characterised by uncertainty after all. However, you were not prepared for it to end so abruptly though. And without an apparent reason. Because Nikolai’s unit hadn’t been posted elsewhere and he hadn’t been fatally wounded. You would have heard of it were that the case. But it wasn’t.

You thought that he had come to cherish your nightly encounters too. Some of those had been full of his promises. How he’d love for you to be around when he’d eventually find the time to work on his ideas. How you had been a nice surprise, a most interesting person among so many dull idiots you were surrounded by every day. How he’d come to value your opinions and presence in his life and that he was going to find a way to make sure that that would never change. Promises that turned to be empty.

You had never allowed yourself to fully believe him. It wasn’t the first time that a boy had made the same kind of promises but Nikolai looked sincere. Honest enough to be believable. But, of course, you had been wrong.

You didn’t realise just how much you had come to rely on him until he was gone. You tried to keep your mind off him and luckily the perfect distraction came your way. The Darkling had scheduled an attack on the enemy’s army and had posted you to be on the field to take care of everyone promptly. You had never been more grateful to the man, even after he had given her a home and a purpose.

Ever since your first encounter with Nikolai, you had thought it had been a blessing. However, you had soon changed your mind and now considered a curse more than anything. Why? Because as soon as you got to the field you couldn’t help but scour the troops for a familiar mop of blond hair. Many looked like him and being this far you couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t one of them but you certainly despised the leap your heart made every time though. That was a distraction you couldn’t afford. Besides, it wasn’t smart to let your heart get involved in times of war.

The battle began, Inferni and Squallers were working together to impair the enemy’s visual so they couldn’t shoot or use their cannons while the First Army marched after them to swap in as soon as the air cleared to catch the enemy by surprise. While your role wasn’t active per se, you were a Corporalki after all, and even if you had been specifically trained as Healer, you had also got one of your friends to teach you the basics of an Heartrender’s work. You weren’t a powerful one but you could hold your ground in a fight. Especially since they weren’t expecting you. And you were still far from any real threat.

The battle dragged on and soon there were wounded soldiers that needed your attention. You hated this kind of work, it was messy and dirty and had to be quick because spending too much time on one soldier could mean dooming another to death. You were accustomed to it by now and soon found a rhythm focusing on ensuring everyone’s survival and not bothering with the aesthetic side of healing. That could be taken care of later if they wanted to.

As soon as your eyes fell onto a crouched figure you sprinted towards them. It was dirty and you didn’t recognize them but you got the feeling it was a life or death situation. Oh, how you wanted to be wrong.

The person crouching turned out to be Nikolai and he wasn’t alone. He was kneeling beside someone, Petyr.

“Where are you hurt?” you hurriedly asked as you tried to assess the damage. His uniform was dirty and full of blood but you couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. Trying to answer you, Petyr opened his mouth only to let out the most gruesome gurgling sound as his respiratory tract was flooded by blood.

“He got shot in the gut.” Nikolai offered.

“Is the bullet still inside?” Opening his uniform jacket you tore a piece from his shirt to use it to put pressure on the wound.

“It’s too late,” Nikolai uttered.

“No.” You strongly refused as you removed the cloth and focused on the wound. His heart was straightening and he had already lost a lot of blood. If the bullet was still inside that it was going to be a problem, if it wasn’t then you still had a fighting chance.

“I removed it earlier.” So that was why he had lost so much blood. Nodding your head to show that you had heard him, you set out to stop the internal bleeding. Slowing his heartbeat so that it was pumping less blood and thus eased your endeavour. You were still in the middle of the field and while you were keeping up with the warfare but in the back of your mind, you registered the sounds of screaming and of gunshots getting closer. A bullet hit you in the shoulder propelling you forward over Petyr’s body. Grisha’s kefta were bulletproof so you weren’t worried for your incolumity but for the harsh movement you had made.

Leaning back, you heard Nikolai calling for you but your eyes were trained on Petyr. You tried to listen for his heartbeat but could only hear two instead of three. Nikolai, who had never left your side, immediately understood what had happened by the fall of your shoulders and the tensing of your hands.

He kept calling for you but the only thing you could focus on was that you had let your friend down. Now there will be one more family crying for a loss, another girl mourning a lost loved one. And it was all your fault. It was because of you that Petyr wouldn’t live to see another day, to write another letter or to fight another battle. It was on you.

The details of what happened next were a bit blurred. Someway you must have found your way back to the campsite. Whether you did on your own after tending to everyone else, you didn’t know. Your memories picked up after you woke up in your tent. Someone was calling your name, saying that the Darkling wanted to see you.

Mechanically you raised and made your way to the Darkling’s tent but your mind was elsewhere. Your thoughts were plagued by Petyr’s face, by that godforsaken sound he made when he tried to speak. The realisation that he was gone hit you like a wall of brick that would have made you stumble if you weren't’ sat in front of the Darkling’s desk. Whether he was speaking and stopped after seeing the forlorn look in your eyes or he hadn’t been speaking at all, you didn’t realize. You did hear him say that you were going to be posted somewhere. Under different circumstances you have said something, anything to not let him send you away. Your mind immediately went to Nikolai. You’d be leaving him behind along with the campsite.

However, you now realised that you had already lost him. Losing Petyr had been the last thing that had completely severed your bond. There was no turning back now and part of you was grateful.

Hello Mr. "Perfectly fine"

How's your heart after breaking mine?

I've been Miss "Misery" since your goodbye

And you're Mr. "Perfectly fine"

You couldn’t know, of course, but Nikolai had left not long after you did. Albeit for a different reason. He had finally earned the Major rank and as such, he took a step back from military life deciding that his skill would be better suited for a life on the sea. Assuring Ravka the supply she needed but in ways that weren’t exactly suitable for a prince but worked just fine for a privateer. And thus Sturmhond came to life.

As for you, you kept doing your job at your new post but were relieved when a letter came from the Darkling instructing that you were needed at the Little Palace. Part of you had relegated Nikolai to that part of your mind where the unmentionable was, however, a traitor thought whispered that maybe there was a chance that you could see him at the royal grounds. Sure, the possibilities were close to zero but it was still possible, right?

No.

You already were ashamed of the fact that you’re still suffering because of him. And yes, you missed him but you weren’t going to indulge the pathetic hope of seeing him again.

He doesn’t want to see you. If he did, he would have already found you. Or write you a letter if he couldn’t, but he didn’t.

You were right. You knew you were, nonetheless, the thought only brought you a bittersweet feeling.

You found the Little Palace just how you’d left it and yet it seemed changed in a way. The insane amount of work you found there waiting for you helped you drown the feeling that it was you that had changed.

Months passed this way, sometimes the Darkling would post you with him or outside the Little Palace. All in all, you’ve kept busy. When news of the little prince leaving the Palace reached you, you let it wash over you. It wasn’t like it mattered much, whether he was a few feet away or in another nation, Nikolai wasn’t part of your life either way.

When the whole expansion of the Fold happened, you were stationed at the Little Palace. Chaos and terror ensued as soon as the news reached the capital making most of the Grisha flee. Most of them went looking for the Darkling while others simply ran away and hid. You were amongst the first group.

Soon, your life was radically changed. The shift in the Darkling was palpable and it didn’t have anything to do with the scars on his face. You had tried your best to heal them and Genya to tailor them away but somehow, they could not be removed. It was an unsettling thing to realize that they didn’t take away his beauty. One could even say that they enhanced his attractiveness.

He was certainly more powerful. None of you knew what had happened in the Fold that day, just that the Sun Summoner had fled and that there were no survivors apart from him. However, as your journey in pursuit of Alina dragged on, you were soon witnesses of his newfound power.

The nichevo’ya, he called them.

He had always been immensely powerful. One of a kind. But this- this was different. And as dread settled among your group as you watched them in action, realisation sat heavily on your shoulders.

He soon found a trail and traced Alina in Novyi Zem and set out to reach the island by hiring Sturmhond’s crew. He was a famous pirate after all and despite his unreliability, the Darkling was sure that as long as he got his money, he wouldn't be a problem.

In the round trip, you didn’t see much of the captain anyway. Some members of his crew were amiable enough, particularly the Yul-Baatar twins. You had even asked Tamar to spar with you from time to time. Your lessons with Botnik were a distant memory and you knew that mastering combat training skills could increase your chance at survival.

When Alina and Mal were held captive though, that’s when Sturmhond made an appearance. He looked younger than you’d thought and there was something oddly familiar in the way he held himself. Still, you didn't talk with him much. Your job was to take care of Alina and so you spent most of your time in her room.

It wasn’t until the Darkling asked Mal to track Rusalye and consequently spent more time with Alina that you had a chance to talk with him. It was during one of your night shifts when he approached you, the Darkling had wanted some of his to always be patrolling the ship.

“What could possibly make a little thing like you be amidst this wretched company?”

“It’s all a matter of perspective, I guess.”

“The thrill of adventure?”

“There’s plenty of it everywhere you go if you’re Grisha, even if you just go on a stroll.”

“Is that why you follow him?”

“I owe everything to him.”

“I’m sure you realize your role in this.”

“Of course I do. I’m not some naive girl who has a crush on her general.”

“Ah, so who, pray tell, do you have a crush on then, beautiful lady?”

“You’re certainly noisy for a pirate.”

“Privateer,” he corrected you, “there’s not much to do around here is it?”

“Not if you have everyone taking care of it, no.”

“Amuse me.”

“It isn’t wise to let the heart get involved in times of war.” That was all you were willing to share. Yes, he was handsome. Yes, the twinkle in his eyes was oddly familiar but he was a stranger. A dangerous one.

“Those sound like words spoken from experience.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, I’d say it’s no fun to only think about war. Life is so much more.”

“Believe me, if I could, it’d be the last thing on my mind. But, alas, l don’t have the privilege to do so.”

You had already lost too much time speaking with him. If someone were to see you or tell the Darkling you’d be in trouble. And you had made it your goal to never put yourself on the path of the Darkling’s anger. So you excused yourself and went back to your rounds.

If only you had stayed and talked to him more maybe you would have understood what was about to happen. Maybe you would have had an enkindling of Sturmhond’s plans. Instead, you were taken by surprise, just like everyone in your group, when Rusalye was spot and a shot was fired. You had found yourself in the uncomfortable position of having to fight against people you had grown to like.

“I don’t want to hurt you, y/n,” Tamar warned you as you stood face to face on the sinking ship dock. Her trusted axes in her hands while your hands were raised ready to attack.

“I don’t want to hurt you either.”

“Then you don’t have to. Come with us.” Her proposition made you gasp.

“That would be treason,” you whispered hoping that the Darkling wasn’t around to hear you. A shiver ran through you as you thought of the punishment he’d give you for even thinking about leaving his side.

“Then you leave me no choice.” She said lowering her arms. Was that guilt you heard in her voice?

Before you could voice your question though, she shouted for her brother and not even a second later, you felt your body grow still. Your eyebrows faltered as you felt your heartbeat slow down.

They were Grisha.

They must have seen you realise because you heard Tamar apologize before everything went black.

Mr. "Never told me why"

He goes about his day

Forgets he ever even heard my name

Well, I thought you might be different than the rest, I guess you're all the same

You didn’t stay out for long though. As soon as Sturmhond’s crew had left the Darkling’s ship and had safely made it onto the Volkvolny, the privateer had asked for you to be awakened.

There wasn’t enough light for you to realize you were on another ship, what alerted you of your new situation were your hands. They had bound them behind your back. Immediately you started to struggle, hoping to wiggle out of the restraints. To no avail though. Huffing out in frustration, you settled for looking around you and see if there was something you could use. That’s when you noticed him.

“Release me- this instant, or else-”

“Or what? You’re a Healer. Not exactly a violent job, is it?” Sturmhond interrupted you, a smirk on his face since he had the upper hand.

“I don’t need my powers to kick you in the ass, do I?” He laughed but didn’t look remotely threatened. Rather amused, actually.

“Please, you have to let me go. He’ll kill me if-” Panic started to build as you realized that there was no way you could successfully escape.

“He won’t touch you.” A solemn glow took over his eyes. “He won’t ever hurt you again, you have my word.” He promised, looking subtly at your left shoulder. You winced as you realized that he must have seen your scars. The ones left by the Darkling’s niche’voya.

“How can I know if you’re trustworthy? You don’t exactly have a good score, you know?”

“You’re going to find out soon enough. Don’t worry.”

Of course, he didn’t bother offering further explanations. He’d left it at that. You weren’t a captive per se but he left your hands bound, only freeing them when you needed to eat or relieve yourself.

Fruitless were your efforts in making you tell more. He often ate with you and would check in at least twice a day but that was it.

It wasn’t until after you had landed after that forsaken vehicle of his had gotten you through the Fold that you understood. His coming out as Nikolai Lanstov, prince and second in line for the Ravkan throne, had shaken you all to your core. However, you doubted that it had sent a pang to the others’ hearts as it did with yours.

Nikolai Lantsov. The man you had been dreaming about, the one that had left you behind without any sort of explanations, the one you missed so dearly, had been by your side all this time.

You weren’t sure how you felt. It made sense now why his eyes looked familiar and his posture. You then connected that the vehicle you had used in the Fold had been one of the many projects he used to geek about with you. It tasted a lot like betrayal. Not because he had lied to you about his name but because he had tried to get close to you again and had managed to somehow break that growing bond again.

'Cause I hear he's got his arm 'round a brand-new girl

I've been pickin' up my heart, he's been pickin' up her

So dignified in your well-pressed suit

So strategized, all the eyes on you

Oh, he's so smug, Mr. "Always wins"

So far above me in every sense

So far above feeling anything

Even if his secret had been outed thus causing some shift in the dynamics between Nikolai and the two new members of his crew - you suspected Mal was closer to punching him every second that passed- not much had changed for you.

On the outside, you pretty much looked like a prisoner. Albeit a very clean one. You rode with them, hands still bound, scowl ever-present on your face.

Nikolai had not come to see you ever since that night after the Fold. And now it had been almost a week since you had started your journey back to the capital. Whether this was all part of his plan to make you look the part of the captive even more or he was just gutless, you didn't know. It was working either way though.

You liked to think that his reason was simply that he didn't care. He had far too much on his plate right now as it was. Going back to court after years of absence while also making claims to the throne and trying to sway the Sun Summoner your way. It was no easy feat. But hadn't he always liked to say that impossible often meant improbable? A lot of things had changed since that night but even so, you'd still pose your bet on him that he'd be able to achieve anything he set his mind to.

It wasn't exactly that thinking this way brought you actual comfort. Of course, not. But it was better than foolishly hoping for him to still care about you the way you did for him. After all, he had sent plenty of signals that pointed in the other direction.

But then why did he kidnap you? Why take you with him? You weren't that close to the Darkling to be of any use to Nikolai in that way. And, as a matter of fact, no one had come to interrogate you regarding his plans or whereabouts. Then why?

You still couldn't figure it out.

Some days your anger shifted more to frustration and you were ounces away from asking for him yourself. Almost as if he had heard you though, he gave you the final push.

It was the usual day, Nikolai and Alina were riding in the carriage, stopping in every village we passed to meet with the locals. However, this time, before climbing back into the carriage, they kissed.

You were too far to figure out who started it and the details. The gist of it was enough though.

You most certainly were a fool. Still thinking about a guy who didn't give two shits about you, who had kidnapped you putting you in a dangerous situation and you were still wondering whether he felt something for you or not? Pathetic.

You had to do something about your situation and quickly too. Officially, you were a traitor. You had fled and joined the Darkling, that wouldn't make you look good in front of the king. He was a lousy bastard anyway and will probably sentence you to death to set an example. You hadn't survived so much shit to end up at the end of a rope.

So, even though you had initially thought against it since you were so close to home, you decided to escape. You were already headed towards certain death so what was the worst that could happen?

Your hands were left unbound when you were in your tent. One less problem to solve. Closing your eyes, you focused on listening for any nearby heartbeats. You heard two, those of the guards posted outside your tent. Maybe you could find an excuse to call them inside, put them to sleep and then slip away.

That was not exactly what your powers were for but you were desperate. You had to at least try.

And so you did. You called them in and immediately set out to slow their heartbeats. You had almost succeeded in putting them under when someone else slipped in. The last person you wanted to see.

"Am I that bad of a host?"

You didn't meet his ruse though, you knew it would make you lose focus.

"I'm afraid I have to ask you to release my soldiers." As soon as he said it though, they fell unconscious at last. Your chest was heaving by now, using so much power in such a different way was costing you. But you couldn't back down now. It was one on one and you were Grisha and a woman scorned. He stood no chance.

"Move out of my way, your highness."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"You can or I can make you. Your choice." The venom in your voice was unmistakable and it took him by surprise. He gave you a curious look tilting his head to the side like he was seeing you for the first time over again.

"I didn't realize ruthlessness was one of your personality traits."

"You know nothing about me," you seethed. The tip of your fingers flexed, the tension in the room could be cut with a knife and you were already weary.

"It may have been a while y/n, but I like to think I know a good deal about you."

"And I would like to completely erase this last year but you don't hear me yap about how shitty it has been, do you?"

"You never did like opening up much."

"I'm well past the point of sentimentalism, Nikolai. It is coming far too late anyway. And whatever my feelings for you may be, I won't let you put my life on the line." Your posture straightened, stance ready for battle.

His eyes flashed, jaw clenched. His hands closed in fists and he almost looked hurt. But why would he?

"Is that what you think all of this is?" Nikolai always acted aloof. He was always composed and dignified. You had thought it was for his insane amount of self-confidence but now you understood it was for how he was raised. But you recognised the pout on his lips. It was the expression he’d always have whenever he tried to get something from getting to him. To prevent himself from showing emotions.

"You're holding me captive while you go around Ravka parading your latest conquest, flashing your return everywhere. I don't know why you're doing this but I don't care. I've stopped waiting around for you and I certainly won't let your father put me to death."

"You think I'd let him?"

"So you want to do this?" you threw your hands up in exasperation, "Fine. You really want to know what I think?"

"Be my guest."

"I think that the Nikolai I knew would have left out of the blue without so much as a letter. I think that the Nikolai I knew was ready to go to any length to achieve what he believed in. However, I thought that the Nikolai I knew cared about me and what we had but look at me now. So maybe, I know nothing at all."

"You certainly do seem to know a lot of things. But you’re not wrong."

"If this is the way you care about me," I gesture to my tent, "then I'm not sure I want this Nikolai to care for me."

“This,” he said, emulating your gesture, “is to keep you safe. This is my way to ensure that if the Darkling got news of your whereabouts, he’d be sure not to think you willingly left his side and betrayed him.”

“That’s because I didn’t!” You raised your voice in outrage. The nerve of this man.

“Spare me your indignation. I know you hate being at his beck and call, to do his dirty work and be constantly surrounded by warfare.”

“Do not presume to speak for me.” You snapped. You knew it was best to keep a cool head but his cockiness was getting on your nerves.

“Didn’t you? Hate it, I mean.”

“We’re at war, Nikolai. Being away or close to the Darkling won’t change that. At least with him, I was safe.”

“You can’t be that delusional to think that he was protecting you.” He scoffed at your words as if they were the most absurd thing he had ever heard.

“And you can’t be that delusional to think that bringing me back won’t result in your father killing me.” You fired back shifting on your feet. He winced as if you had physically hurt him.

“You have so little faith in me?” His voice was just above a whisper and you knew that your words had struck a chord.

“How can I have any, Nikolai?” your voice softened a bit. “One day you’re telling me how much you value my opinion, you promise me a future where I’d be the first to see your project come to life and then you left. You just left, Nikolai.” And when I was starting to make my peace with it that’s when you come back? Also, let’s not forget about my abduction and your flirting with Alina.”

“So yes, I don’t trust you.” You concluded, crossing your arms on your chest with finality. He just stared at you for the longest time. If someone would come in now, they’d think you were in the middle of a staring contest. Then he sighed and started talking.

“I had to go away. I had already pushed my parents’ limits when I said I wanted to be part of the infantry. So, one day I got a letter written by my father personally and I knew that my time was up. I had been Nikolai for too long, now I had to start being a Lantsov prince.” His eyes were on the ground now, shame making her way in his words.

“So that’s what I did,” he went as he started pacing,”I went to Kerch to study, just like my father wanted. I did what he asked, he couldn’t reproach me anything now. I could never stay too still though, a life of adventure was calling me and I could not ignore it. It was only then that I realized that I could do so much more than sitting in a class, to realistically help Ravka.”

“I couldn’t take you with me. You had such a larger role to play in the army and besides, there wasn’t much I could offer you. So yes, I left. I left thinking that I would find my way back to you eventually.” He had stopped by now, regret was swirling in his shining orbs as he looked at you.

“You could have told me.” You contestated, taken back by all the information he gave you. “I would have waited for you.” A whispered promise for something that would never be now.

“I was afraid, y/n. That’s not my best moment, I know and no number of apologies could ever make it right. But I was afraid of your answer. I knew I’d be asking for a lot and let’s be honest-” the desperation in his tone was evident now, he had unconsciously started to lean towards you but you knew what he was about to say.

“You weren’t sure if the future you were offering me would just end up with me being your mistress, am I right?” Your tone hardened but despite the insulting implication of what you said, you weren’t made at him.

“I’m a prince, y/n. We do not marry for love and this country cannot afford to disregard the advantages that a political union could bring.”

His honesty was as refreshing as it was unsettling. He was right. As soon as you had learned he was a prince, you realized just what kind of future you could have with him. But then he left and that problem did not exist anymore. Neither of you spoke, both of you were seizing the other. You had laid it all out, defences were down putting you both in a vulnerable position.

And someday maybe you'll miss me

“You should have talked to me, Nikolai. We could have figured it out together. If it came to being your mistress to stay with you, then that was my decision to make.” You said softly after a while. It pained for you to say this, you would have never thought that getting closure would hurt this much.

Tears streamed on both of your faces, in front of you had been laid what your future could have looked like. It was everything you had wanted, you could still do your job and have the man of your dreams. You were surprised to find that you wouldn’t mind sharing him with his supposed wife. You had been at court for enough time to know how most marriages went. If he assured you it was only a diplomatic affair but that his heart was yours, that would have been enough. Who knows, maybe she’ll get a lover too.

But now… now you didn’t know if you could ignore everything that happened. You did not trust him nor could you ignore how hurt you were by his lack of communication and thus of trust in you.

But by then, you'll be Mr. "Too late"

[a-simple-imagine]

sugary sweet

requested by anonymous:  “could u pls write a story abt spending ur birthday with vanessa?”

pairing: Vanessa (in the heights) x fem!reader

words: 1.4k+

A/N - this is not as fluffy as you probably expected. I just never write happy stories that involve birthdays, it’s cute at the end though

the bright, early morning sun peeked through the blinds as you slowly open your eyes to find the space beside you vacant. evidence of your girlfriend was there but she was nowhere to be found. the apartment felt eerily quiet. had she already left for work? what time was it? normally she'd at least say goodbye first. what a way to start the day. the rattle of the elevated train shakes throughout the apartment as it zooms past the window. you let out a heavy sigh. today was gonna be a very long day.

"happy birthday!" an excited voice as the bed dips suddenly bouncing you against the mattress. Vanessa wears a bright smile and in her hand was a ceramic white bowl.

"thank you," With both hands against the bed, you push yourself upright. full of fresh berries, Vanessa offers up the bowl but not without stealing one or two first.

"I gotta get to work but you can sleep more if you want," odd offer. you rarely spent time here without her. it was her apartment so you didn't really have a reason to plus that train can be awful annoying sometimes... most of the time. "do whatever but if you plan on goin home just come by the salon with the key, yeah?" a gentle kiss bestowed upon your forehead. a simple nod to confirm you understood the instructions and Vanessa was rushing out the bedroom, only to reappear a mere moment later. "you gonna be alright?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Unspoken words hang in the air as Vanessa keeps her eyes trained in on you; her feelings left unclear by her quick shrug before rushing out the door. you hear the door click this time. your smile fades into the silence, glancing down at the fruit. picking up a berry, you toss it into your mouth then place it off to the side. a heavy feeling twists at your stomach and pulls at your tear ducts. it was a complicated feeling. you didn't exactly have a reason for it but seeing your birthday as a day of celebration was also difficult. every year felt like it came with a personal checklist of life achievements. career milestones. marriage. babies. fitness goals. buying property. it was like a reminder that you were so far behind other people your age but then again, you weren't even sure what you wanted in life. following such a linear path seemed so trivial in the grand scheme of things. there was no guarantee of happiness or fulfilment but rather they were just the milestones of life everyone was expected to want. all you had was a dead-end job and your developing relationship with Vanessa. She made you happy, you weren't denying that. but did your whole life just equate to settling down with her? dark clouds hung low in your mind. how to spend this oh so special occasion? you could go out? you didn't have a lot of friends so it wasn't like you weren't used to doing things alone. today, however, the thought of doing anything just seemed... pathetic. like a strong reminder of how isolated you truly were. in the end, you decide against going out. decide against going home. you would merely entertain yourself until Vanessa returns. it was strange being in her apartment without her. you focus on her atrociously messy desk. paper, pens, cutouts scattered everywhere. getting out of bed, you take a closer look at the designs pinned to the wall. it was rather selfish but often your cloud of insecurity blinds you from the thought of Vanessa's dreams. you pull one of the designs down. simply but elegant and coloured in a metallic silvery-blue it looked like an evening gown. you had discussed her desperation and desire to leave Washington heights. you knew all too well that she wanted to be a fashion designer and there was nothing you wanted for her more than for her to achieve her dreams. but where do you fit into all of that?

The sun is long gone by the time Vanessa finally arrives home. "you decided to stick around then."

"guess so," you shrug, glancing towards her. she drops a plastic bag or two on the kitchen counter. "I can leave if you want?"

"no- no, I'm glad you're still here," Vanessa quickly responds, breezing right past you towards the bedroom. "so... what did you do today?"

"nothing,"

"for real?" she calls out. "you didn't do anything for your birthday?"

"didn't feel up to it,"

"I knew I shouldn't have left you here alone," was that sympathy or pity in her voice? they sounded similar.

"it's fine,"

"no, it's not," your girlfriend huffs. "I feel bad,"

"don't need the pity, nessa." Vanessa reappears from the bedroom dressed in nothing but a long t-shirt. "isn't that mine?"

"probably," a quick shrug as she looks over herself, "I just... you could have come to the salon or something."

"it's not a big deal," you insist. "it's all good."

"you should care more," she replies, "and we're gonna finish it off right,"

"what does that even mean?" your brows furrow, eyes following the other woman to the kitchen area. "have you eaten?"

"Nah- thought I'd wait for you," truth be told you just didn't feel like cooking but a little white lie never hurt anyone. plus it sounded sweeter to think you waited just so you could eat together.

"Great," the woman spins on her heel and from her hand dangles a white plastic bag that explained the tantalising aroma that had enveloped the apartment. "because I brought take out."

"What kind?"

"Chinese," Proud words accompanied by a knowing smirk. "your favourite."

"you know me well," jumping up, you join Vanessa at the kitchen counter. she's unloading different cartons of food. a quick kiss is placed on her cheek as you grab the cutlery. nothing beats a little Chinese food after a long day

with dinner done and dusted, Vanessa tasks you with taking out the trash despite your protest. it was your birthday you shouldn't have to do it but there was no convincing your very stubborn girlfriend. marching all the way down the stairs of her apartment building; the elevator was once again, broken. it conveniently always seemed to be out of order when you wanted to use it. a slow climb back up, you arrive back to a very dark apartment. "power out or...?" that didn't make any sense. the lights in the hallway were clearly still on. the roar of the train brings with it a warm flicker of candlelight in the corner of the kitchen.

"happy birthday to you," her quiet melodic voice starts to sing as she turns slowly. in Vanessa's hand sits a cupcake with a single pink candle expertly placed in the centre. "happy birthday to you," slow careful steps closer, her hand shielding the flame. "happy birthday dear-"

"do we have to do this?"

"yes," she declared finishing off the song as she meets you in the middle. it's hard not to appreciate the cheesy gesture, an embarrassed smile settling on your lips. "now make a wish." taking a deep breath, you let your eyes flutter closed before blowing out the fire. handing over the cake, you swipe a little of the white frosting on the tip of your finger and into your mouth. sugary sweet. "how is it?"

"want a taste?" a playful quirk of your brow, you place the cupcake on the counter and pull Vanessa flush against you. her hands fall to your hips and you place your arms over her shoulders. "well?"

your girlfriend nods a little, keeping her eyes on yours. leaning in slowly, you connect your lips in a gentle embrace. Vanessa smiles into the kiss. " Feliz cumpleaños, cariño." whispered against your lips. "sorry for not doing more."

"don't be," you shrug a little. "this was enough. you are enough."

looking into her eyes and even in the darkness, you can tell she's holding something back. some comment or feeling. it's the same with you.  despite your words, that heavy feeling still burned in your chest. a lost, empty feeling that may never truly leave but you didn't want to have that conversation. "let's go to bed."

backing away from her, visible confusion crosses your face. "it's only like... ten?"

"exactly," Vanessa takes your hand, a smirk on her lips.

"what about my cupcake?"

"what about it?" A soft little giggle but you don't protest as she leads you towards the bedroom.

[sage-writing18]

kai parker- x male reader

warning ⚠️: including oral male sex receiving and giving, anal sex, erection

**BACKROUND: in this universe kai is not a serial killer but a witch and your collage roommate and you are also a witch**

you walk into your door room to see kai sleeping on his bed.

kai wake up you say as you shake him. KAI.

what. his responds. what tf was that last night. you say wydm he says.

WHAT DO I MEAN???

you locked me out and not only thst put a barrier spell on the door. you say

i know i know i’m sorry y/n he says

i had to sleep on a community coach and had to cast a invisibly spell on myself so no one would bother me. you say

oh shit really

you nod your head yes

oh i’m so sorry. i just figured you stay at bons and cares. i just needed the room i haven’t gotten any yk in a while and wanted both bed. kai says

it’s okay ig i hope it was wroth it and where did u even get the magic to cast a spell you ask

well i might of maybe siphoned you at lunch…

KAI

ik ik im so sorry he responds

and to answer your other no it was not worth she just talked about her ex the whole time “he was a jerk” “ he hated all my friends” blah blah blah. kai said

oh… well i’m sorry u didn’t get any you say you say

yeah u and me both kai responds

well do u want to play some xbox

sure. he says with delight

*30 minutes go buy and the game is over*

you look over and see kai adjusting his dick

woah are u hard rn…

yes he said

um..you say baffled

i’m sorry it’s just im so horny kai says

it’s okay!!! it’s happens. jsut go in the car or something and take care of it you offer

see i would but it’s storming out and there he says

shit your right. okay this one time you can do it in here . i’ll put in my headphones and u can go to town you say.omg thank you so much

you out in your earbuds and causally look over. you see him mouth something

what was that you say as you take out your earbud

i said like what your see he says giggling

um you say nervously

i’m just busting your balls y/n. come here i’m not shy

this is my pride and joy i call him little k

all 8 inches

8 INCHES you say surprised

yes, kai says

you look over that his computer to see he’s watching porn and start to get hard

looks like u need to jerk off too come on whip it out. kai says

well if u insist

you whip it out and start to jerk off

*a few minutes later*

you see he’s getting kinda bored

in a bold move a start jerking him off him responds in a positive way he start to moan

thank you. i really needed this

u bend down to put it in your mouth

wow!!! i’ll let you do this but this doesn’t mean i’m gay or anything

it’s okay just let me

u can do anything u want

he start to lick his huge cock

he lets out a small moan, fuck he says

with lick y/n goes down deeper every time

he starts to control your head

making you go down deeper to stop having a hard time to breath. your so good kai reply’s

do you think we can do some stuff with the ass. kai asked shyly

ofc don’t worry i’m clean :). you say

you pull down your jean and pull down your dark blue Calvin Klein underwear.

put bend down into the doggie style you feel a warm chill on your hole it’s kai mouth

you began going faster and eating the fuck out your ass yo u began moan very loud.

don’t stop fuck dont stop you say

kai takes his mouth away and lines his dick up with your hole.

your hoping he’s goes gentle. but you are wrong

he slams his cock into you he fuck you so hard

you so close to cub you come all his sheets

he continues to fuck you so hard.

i’m about to cum he says

cum in me pls daddy you reply he cums his load into you. you both lay next to each other with his arm around yours thank you, i really needed that. kia says. no problem anytime you say. you both fall asleep in each other arms

[officialscaramouche]

Can I request an Angst to fluff for Scara? With a hint of jealousy pls.

I’m sorry, Mona for always making u the other woman 😭 I love her I promise but I also love to hate her

pairing: gn!reader x scaramouche (I hope ur not tall bc he isn’t yikes)

word count: 1,382

tw: jealousy, angst, themes of infedelity

You woke up once again to a cold, empty bed. Rolling over to stare at Scaramouche’s side of the bed, you wondered why you still sleep on one side. It’s not like he’d come home to sleep with you anyway, so what would it matter?

Getting up to brush your teeth, his side of the counter looked untouched as usual. This shared bathroom, shared house, was starting to feel more like you lived here by yourself.

No notes as usual, not a reminder that he’d be coming home today or any update on how much longer he’d be working on this project. You understood that Scaramouche’s job was important, and you knew that there would be times when you wouldn’t see him for weeks or months. But whenever the two of you were apart, he was usually in another country. Mondstadt, Liyue, Fontaine, somewhere else. Not like now, when he was here in the same city.

He had warned you that he’d get busier. He told you one night over dinner that the Tsaritsa had given him a big project— planning the capture of the traveler. He complained, saying that he also had to negotiate terms with an outside party about assistance, and how the Tsaritsa double booked him with work. He always hated getting important roles, but he never half-assed his job. His title as the Balladeer came before anyone and anything. He was a hard worker, if nothing else. But you knew this, and you told him that you would make it work but knowing he’s maybe thirty minutes away from you in the same city made it more painful that he didn’t come home.

Was he avoiding you? Did you do something wrong? Did he meet someone else, and simply not bother to break up with you? Maybe he was hoping you’d break up with him and he wouldn’t have to deal with confronting you. Whatever the case, you wished you knew the truth and if he was going to break your heart, you at least want to know the full story.

You packed him a lunch, hoping that he’d have time to step away and share a meal with you. If he hadn’t been coming home, he also wasn’t eating well. He would rather skip a meal or two than fall behind on work, but hopefully he’d make an exception.

When you got there, the agents already knew who you were. Hardly anyone stopped to say hello out of respect, knowing who you were dating. When you got to his office, the agent guarding the room stepped in front of the door— something he didn’t do before.

“Hello, Javert. I’m dropping off Scara’s lunch. Is there a problem?”

“I’m sorry, [Y/N], he’s not taking guests right now. Please see him at another time.”

You stepped forward, reaching for the door. “No, I’d like to see him now.”

Javert put a firm hand on your shoulder and pushed you back. “Please, this is an order from him directly, I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“I don’t care!” You spat, shoving him aside and quickly throwing open the door. “Scara, we need to talk—”

Your eyes met his, along with someone else’s. He sat on the outside edge of his desk, his hand on a woman’s chin— someone you had never seen before. His nose was not even an inch away from hers, a smile on both of their faces. “[Y/N],” he said in surprise, letting go of her chin and gently pushing her aside. “What are you…”

You drop the lunchbox onto the floor. “So this is what you’ve been so busy with, huh?” You bit your lip as it began to quiver, your fists shaking with rage. “This is why you couldn’t be bothered to come home?” Your heart pounded against your chest, the stinging pain too much to bear.

“[Y/N], wait. She’s—”

“No, fuck you! I’ve been waiting for you like a puppy, and you’re fucking around on me? We’re done!”

Kicking the lunchbox across the room, you turn and slam the door closed, Javert looking away to avoid making eye contact with you. You stomp down the halls, agents stopping to look at you. With the way you shouted, you didn’t doubt that everyone here heard you. Some people looked at you then quickly looked away behind you. Others tried to stop you from leaving, as if to beg you to stop and calm down.

It wasn’t until your fingers wrapped around the doorknob did you realize they weren’t looking at you or trying to stop you because not far behind, Scaramouche was stalking down the halls with an ugly scowl on his face. He grabbed your shoulder and spun you around, pressing you into the door. “Do you not hear me calling you, [Y/N]?” He hissed, holding your stare. “This is my workplace, you can’t just come in here and make a scene! Mikhail,” he snapped at one of the passing-by agents. “Open a conference room and escort the astrologist out of my office, please.” You pushed at his wrist holding you still against the door. “Please behave and come with me to my office.”

Back in his office he relieved Javert of duty to try and give the two of you some privacy. You stand by the door, refusing to move closer to his desk where they probably fucked every night, her sweat and come coating the surface. It made you angrier to think about it.

Scaramouche crouched down by one of the shelves as he picked up the contents of the lunchbox. “Thank you for making me lunch,” he said with a chuckle. “Even though I won’t be eating it now.” You didn’t say anything. You just stood there with your arms crossed, tapping your foot angrily. “Baby, please stop being mad. I already told you about her.”

“No you didn’t?! You didn’t tell me shit about some skank!”

He tossed the lunchbox on his desk, pulling his hat off and hanging it on the back of his chair. “Yes, I did. The assistance? She’s an astrologist, she can read the future.”

“So?! Why did you have to put your hands on her then?!”

Scaramouche made his way toward you slowly and deliberately. He extended his arms out to gesture for a hug. “Scare tactics, honey. She knows not to pick a fight in one of our bases. Look, she’s friends with the traveler. I have to make sure she won’t betray us.”

He stood in front of you, arms open and waiting for you to reach out to him. “I don’t like you touching her,” you spit, eyeing him up and down.

“Okay, baby. I won’t touch her again.”

“And I don’t want her alone with you in your office anymore.”

“Fine, you wanna start coming with me to work?”

“Are you actually going to come home?”

Scaramouche raised a brow at you. “What do you mean? I’ve been coming home.”

“No you haven’t! Your side of the bed is always untouched! And your sink, too!”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes and leans into you anyway, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you tight. “You do know I only get, like, three hours of sleep right? Because I get home so late and I leave so early.” He cups your cheek, eyes darting from your eyes to your lips. “I can’t sleep without you, [Y/N]. Don’t be silly, you think I like being in this office? I’d much rather be at home, napping all day and getting lectured about the trash.”

You finally relax into the hug and hang your arms over his shoulders, letting him pepper your face and neck with kisses. “You’re not lying to me, are you?”

“Lying is a waste of time. You’d only find out the truth eventually.”

“I guess,” you pout, knowing he’s never been one for lying. “If I ever found out you’ve been having sex in this office behind my back, I’ll—”

“You’ll kill me, I know. Trust me, the papers on my desk are more important than pussy.” He pulled back to look at you, your blush heavy from embarrassment and pout prevalent on your lips. “But if you want to—”

“No!!”

“Okay! Geez, just saying!”

[thelittleboyfromloveactually]

Our star

Newt tmr x reader

Warnings: fluff, fluff and oh, fluff

Promt: (ok I am really really bad at descriptions so pls don’t kill me) when you can’t sleep you leave your hut to go get some hair, and you find newt :)

Word count: 1398

Ok so I made this as like a practice story, please give me feed back! It’s much appreciated! This is my first fic so please no hate! I switch between a lot of point of views, tell me which one you prefer! Hope y’all enjoy! (Also didn’t rly proof read :|)

Not my gif! Credit to whoever made it! <3

You had been awake for what seemed like a millennium. After the new greenie had arrived, the gladers threw a bond fire, in which you and almost everyone else got drunk or tipsy at the least. You thought that you would doze off quickly but it never happened. You sighed climbing out of your hammock. It was pretty cold now that you didn’t have the comfort of your blanket. You grabbed your jacket and headed out of the hut. It was quiet, peaceful, when you were a greenie you would wake up early just to have some quiet time and watch the sunrise from the top of the tower. You weren’t sure what time it was but you decided to climb up to your tower spot because it always seemed to sooth you. You still weren’t sure why you couldn’t sleep, your heart just kept racing and you mind was having a concert featuring wannabe by the spice girls. As you got closer and closer to the top you heard a hushed humming sound coming from the top. The tune was familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on the exact song. The closer you got the clearer the humming sound became, eventually you realized it was newt. Your best friend since the day you arrived at the glade. Newt had been there for you, he had been there for everyone. He was that person, he was your person. You stopped your climb thinking about if u were going to be disturbing him. You came to the conclusion that talking to newt might actually help with your sleeping, so you continued the climb.

You reached the top and Newt's eyes darted to you quickly, he smiled at the sight. Newt had always loved you, as a friend of course. He always wanted to be near you and to keep you safe. When you were a greenie you had the “crazy” idea of wanting to be a runner, but Newt couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go into the horrid maze.

“Hello love, what are you doing up” he asked smiling

“I couldn’t sleep” you responded standing up to come sit next to him

“Nor could I, a lot of stress with the new greenie and all”

“He seems nice”

“Yes, he’s a spontaneous one though”

You giggled, you always loved his accent, it was like music to your ears.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He asked facing you, looking at you with loving eyes

“Well I am not quite sure, to be completely honest”

“Something on your mind? You can tell me” he said encouragingly

“No no, I am glad your here tho, your very chill”

“Chill huh?” He said grinning and raising an eyebrow

“Yup” you said nodding your head

“Well I hope I am fun too”

“Oh yes, the most fun ever”

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying each other’s company. You didn’t know how but somehow newts arm had been around you, pulling you in close, as you rested your head on his shoulder, looking at the gorgeous night sky. Whilst looking at all the stars you quickly found your favorite constellation, the northern crown (Corona Borealis).

“That’s my favorite constellation” you said pointing your finger towards a group of stars in the sky

“It’s very nice” newt nodded

“It’s called the Corona Borealis, or the northern crown. I really like the story behind it, it’s so sweet.”

“Tell me” he said simply

“Oh well I am not sure how accurate this is going to be but basically…..” (because it was not my story I didn’t put it in do to Plagiarism and stuff)

You told newt the story, he kept his eyes on you the whole time admiring your love for the stars. Once you finished you sighed. “It’s a love story, and I love love stories” u said

Newt laughed “me too”

You looked at each other his eyes flickered to you lips, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. It was silent until he spoke

“It’s getting late love you should go to sleep” he said looking away

“Uh ya your probably right” you stood up, feeling cold again because newts arm was no longer pulling you toward him, then suddenly you felt a hand grab your wrist, looking back you saw newt looking at you with the sweetest eyes

NEWTS POV

The second she stood up to go it felt wrong, I could let her go, not again. We were alone and now was the right time to tell her! But what if she doesn’t feel the same way? I will have messed up our whole bloody relationship. Ya know what, fuck it, I have been in love with Y/N since she stepped out of the box. I saw the scared look in her eyes and from then on I vowed to protect her, even if that meant that she would hate me for a few days every once in a while. Suddenly a jolt of electricity and confidence ran through my body, my hard was suddenly on Y/Ns wrist, well no turning back now. She looked back at me, her face was surprised and confused. I stood up, grabbing her other hand “Y/N there is something I need to tell you” I said, I had to do it quick because I could already feel the confidence leaving me. “Ok shoot, blondie” she said smiling. Fuck. “Well um” come on, you can do this! “Ever since I saw you scared in that box, when I came down to greet you and you flinched away, I didn’t know it then but I broke my heart seeing you in that state, scared, alone, scared of me. When you finally spoke to me your voice was like music to my ears and I vowed to protect you and love you” I paused looking for some reaction in her face, it was frozen at first but then she smiled and said “And that’s exactly what you have done, and I thank you for that” then she kissed my cheek “don’t worry about me blondie” she said removing her hands from mine

YOUR POV

He was truly the sweetest boy in the world, hearing him say all those things gave me butterflies. All I wanted to do was hug him and never let go, but I resorted to kissing him on the cheek. I began walking away thinking he was done with his sweet speech when suddenly he pulled me back to him. But this time he didn’t stop me a few feet away, this time my lips crashed into his. Surprised at first my lips stayed still, but slowly my lips moved into a rhythm with his. They seemed to move as if they were meant to be in the state they were now. I broke the kiss when suddenly the thought hit me, I was the only girl in the glade, Alby had rules, no one could touch me.“Wait newt, we should think about this-“ I started before being cut off, “You don’t like me do you?” He said looking down, “What?! No! I-l, of course I like you, hell I probably love you newt!” His face lit up at my words “Great, then I think we have done enough thinking” he said before again pulling me back into a passionate and needy kiss, it was warm and gentle. We only broke apart to breath our foreheads still touching. “I think we are the lucky ones” he said smiling. He remembers, once when I was feeling down I had told him that we are the least luckiest people in the world, I had told him it was a world I didn’t want to be in. But he told me that soon we would be the lucky ones and we would get out of here. “The stars aligned, and in all of this crazy-ness somehow you and me are here together, and I am never letting you go,” he said, kissing me again, this time completely wiping my brain of all thoughts. Maybe he was right, maybe we are the lucky ones this time

“Every now and then the stars a-line

Boy and girl meet by the great design

Finally, you and me, are the lucky ones this time”

-lucky ones by Lana del ray

[stanzoeywade]

Tiptoe - Poppy x MC

Taglist: @somewillwin @uhh-the-green-thing @jmojellybae @simp-pony @made-me-deep-blue @uselesslesbianfr @it-lives-in-braidwood-manor @belvoiresqueenbee @alexlabhont @samanthadalton @crazzyplays @sparring-hyena @baexpoppy @cloakanddaggerthings

Summary: Poppy and MC meet in summer and they were dating but broke it off, not related to free falling dhaisja don't ask about ch3 idk either.

A/N: uhm hi I've been a ghost for like months lol but I heard from a little birdie that queen b is coming back in September and I'm so ready to clown for my wife Poppy again. Based on song below which is a bop. I also did not check my spelling or grammar I die like a dumbass. My one braincell would like to thank u all and Gabi for this fic 💗

There's hardly anything in this world that captivates you, until you see her. Her flawless skin, her blonde hair and those deep chocolate orbs that you just want to stare at and drown in forever. Who knew such a beauty existed? It boggles you to know that the Min-Sinclair heiress is perfect. One might say that you're jealous but deep down you know that's not the case. Jealousy? No, it's not jealousy, you're enthralled by her. It's not even because of how fucking gorgeous she looks, it runs deeper than that. There's just this weird sense of kinship that you feel when you look at her. She's more than the ranking, she's vulnerable and actually cares, something you saw when you went to the animal shelter.

The way her eyes sparkled when she saw the rescue animals, the way her mouth curved into that gentle smile. Who knew the queen bee of Belvoire had a heart? Her vulnerability is further shown when you realise that the golden girl of Belvoire has her own scars, her pride a by-product of the hurt caused by family and so called friends.

Having seen the forefront of it all, Belvoire is cutthroat. Everything matters, the clothes you wear, your family name. It's a free for all, no one cares who gets burned, low blows exchanged, it's all a big mind game and those who fall under pressure lose not just their reputation but everything they have worked for. But apart from all of that, she's still the first thing that makes you smile.

It's damning, the way your mind and heart races at the thought of Poppy. The way her eyes light up when she flashes that gentle smile, where one look is all it takes to make your knees weak and the blood rushing up your cheeks. You've never seen such a beauty, her smile is like a soft ray of sunshine, warming you up. However, she's also as mysterious as the moon, especially since she acts so sweet and the next minute she's as cold as ever. It's enough to give you whiplash.

Such gentle and delicate features, yet her personality is as fiery as the sun, I guess it's true what they say, the sun is beautiful yet staring at it can become painful.

It's confusing as to why Rosie's fallen so hard for Poppy, they've been rivals from the start, with each other's goal to come out on top. Things have definitely changed after the night they slept together, Poppy's words have no actual bite to them. If she were brave enough Rosie would've called Poppy out on it, but she's so confused on where they stand that she doesn't want to risk this newfound "friendship" if one can even call it that.

It suddenly hits Rosie like a brick. 'Wait, has Poppy been courting me in her own weird way or am I imagining shit?' She becomes more confused as Poppy seems to stare at her longer than she ever did, sometimes Rosie would meet eyes with Poppy who seems to have a longing stare as if she has so much to convey yet has no courage to do so. Sometimes it gets to the point where Poppy blushes after she realises that both of them have been staring at each other for too long. Both of them being a flustered and blushing mess, looking away as if they've been burned from getting too close to a fire.

Most people in Belvoire would argue that its not longing and wistful glances that the two are exchanging, they'd say that those were intense glares formed from the ongoing rivalry that the two have established in public, but anyone who personally knows Poppy and Rosie would say differently. There's also an ongoing bet between the students of the school. Some argue that Poppy and Rosie are secretly dating whilst the rest argue that they absolutely loathe each other and the ongoing stares are to intimidate each other to give in and leave Belvoire.

Zoey and Veronica are secretly in cahoots in which they bet that the two are definitely dating or in Veronica's words "those two are definitely fucking" which earns her a fond smile as well as a roll of the eyes from Zoey. Chloe suspects something between Poppy and Rosie, considering they genuinely don't seem to put energy behind the insults they throw at each other. She doesn't think that the two are lovers but she definitely thinks that they're secretly friends.

It's not until Veronica sees Rosie wink at Poppy when she thought nobody was looking, and she was certain that the blonde would glare at Rosie but imagine her surprise when Poppy flirts back by winking back. In which she's all too excited to text Zoey about. "Omfg bitch, you won't believe what I saw today, like holy fuck the two gays were flirting when they thought no one was looking." All she gets in response from Zoey was "show receipts pls."

Rosie can feel herself falling for Poppy, both of them know that things have changed. Neither seem too interested in fighting and when they do argue, it's all for show, after all no one knows that they're secretly pining after each other. She suddenly remembers how they met.

-Flashback-

Being relatively new to New York, Rosie was eager to meet new people and what better way to start off than hooking up with strangers from a random bar? After all, the city was big and it's been a while. As soon as she arrived someone immediately caught her attention. One Poppy Min-Sinclair, dressed to the nines, she was definitely Rosie's type. Not really expecting anything Rosie struts towards her, in hopes of beginning a conversation.

At first Poppy seemed uninterested, scoffing and she felt a presence near her. She didn't really want to deal with anyone considering they're usually just random guys who wanted to hook up in the bathrooms or worse they're drunk as fuck trying to flirt with her. However, imagine her surprise when she looks at the person that dared to sit by her. Poppy would be lying if she said that the girl in front of her wasn't her type. She seemed sweet, and had a gentle smile. It was also a bonus that the girl seemed to know how to dress herself.

When their eyes met, there was this lightning spark that just fit into place, the two had chemistry. It was undeniable, the two just knew how to push and pull. The banter was there, so was the attraction.

Poppy wasn't shy about showing her attraction, obviously checking Rosie out, which earns her a low chuckle from the other girl. "At least buy me dinner first before you undress me with you eyes?" said Rosie with mirth dancing around her eyes, whilst Poppy just laughs, soft and languidly slow. At which point Rosie knew she was screwed, the blonde in front of her looked like she just walked out of the runway, and her laugh was definitely something Rosie wanted to hear more of.

She's pulled out of her epiphany once Poppy speaks, voice sultry and pulling Rosie in like a siren. "My name is Poppy Min-Sinclair, and I do what I want sweetheart." The confidence she exudes is shown in her voices. It's addicting the way the blonde presents herself, every move calculated and poised. Every word that leaves her lips is deliberate and elegant in her own unique way. If she was in her right mind, Rosie would've been terrified by how enraptured she was by this girl in front of her.

Rosie wasn't one to back down from a challenge therefore she decides to tease the girl in front of her. "Is your name supposed to be important? I've never heard of it. Anyways, since you've introduced yourself so nicely, my name's Rosie." Poppy just raises an eyebrow at her semi-surprised that the other girl hasn't heard of her. "Sorry babe, the whole world doesn't revolve around you." said Rosie with a cheeky smile and wink and before Poppy can retort Rosie finishes off by saying "but it definitely should revolve around you, I mean look at you, you're mesmerising."

If it were any other person, Poppy would have definitely rolled her eyes and walked away, but Rosie seemed to mean it. The other girl definitely looked like she wore her heart on her sleeve, and it was just so damn endearing that Poppy, against her usual M.O., she decides to stay and talk to the other girl. 'She looks cute enough, but if she's gonna be annoying then I'll just ditch her later.' thought Poppy.

Both women were intrigued by each other, and one thing led to another. Before they knew it they were together in a hotel room. Neither of them cared about who made the move first, all they knew was that they had to have each other one way or the other.

Despite her pent up desire and lust, Poppy still cared about her reputation, after all even if she was on break it didn't mean she can be careless, plus she didn't exactly want to expose Rosie to Belvoire's dirty laundry, the girl seemed nice enough and Poppy wasn't about to mess with this girl. Sure she's a fucking bitch but that doesn't mean she wants people to suffer because of her unless they've wronged her or any of her friends in some way. She's petty but she's not that petty.

God knows Belvoire is a shithole.

They're definitely closer than what should be conceived as acceptable, considering Rosie is literally one step away from kissing Poppy. Not like either of then cared considering they were too focused on each other to pay attention to their surroundings. It's only when the bartender coughs that the two pull away from each other as if taken out of their seemingly lulled state.

Rosie's about to say goodbye, considering the blonde seems like she's torn between leaving or staying, but she's caught by surprise when Poppy yanks her arm back. "Where do you think you're going, little lamb? I didn't say I was done with you yet." The way it was said was enough to make Rosie shiver. The way the Min-Sinclair heiress said it so confidently, it didn't help that she looked to be the epitome of lust and desire at that moment, but from then on Rosie knew she was fucked, both literally and figuratively.

Before she knew it she was pulled into a car headed to the nearest luxury hotel, which just so happens to be a presidential suite at The Ritz. Rosie didn't show but she was shocked. She knew the girl was rich, I mean come on her clothes are fresh off the runway and the blonde exuded power and wealth. But this was like a bucket of ice water being dropped on Rosie's head, this was definitely something she wasn't expecting.

NSFW AHEAD

She's taken aback by the inside of the hotel suite, she expected it to be fancy, but nothing could prepare her for the plush king sized bed, as well as the overall layout of the room. It looks like something straight out of an IKEA magazine, Rosie can't help but think.

"Well, are you just going to stand there or are we actually going to fuck?" says Poppy. Rosie is taken aback from how bluntly Poppy put it. Speaking of which, the blonde girl is already half way through removing her clothes. She couldn't help the gasp that escapes her as she gawks at Poppy and the way her body looks so perfect, unblemished milky white skin that looks so soft, all Rosie could think of is leaving marks in her wake. She licks her lips in anticipation as Poppy gives her the come hither gesture, and Rosie is immediately lured in, like a moth drawn to a flame.

Her hands immediately raise up, helping Poppy out of her clothes, until all that remains is Poppy's underwear. Her eyes scan Poppy's body and out of the corner of her eye she can see Poppy's satisfied smile. Rosie is pulled in, her body pulled in flush against Poppy. Her eyes dart over to Poppy's lips as she leans in to kiss Poppy. A hand covers her mouth as she hears "Not yet Hughes, it's unfair if I'm the only one in my underwear."

Rosie's ears are definitely bright red at this point and she's pretty sure that her whole body is flushed, but she gives Poppy a show as she takes each article of clothing slowly, piece by piece as if testing Poppy's already short patience. As she takes her blouse off, Poppy's staring at her so intensely she can feel her legs wobble. The look conveying an unspoken promise. It's enough to make her a little self conscious, but her confidence is regained as soon as she sees how flushed Poppy is. It also helped that she saw Poppy gulp, looking at her like she's the only thing in the world. "See something you like, Min-Sinclair?" she can't help but tease and the blonde rolls her eyes.

"You were doing so well until you started speaking. Just get your ass over here. I'm not used to waiting for things I want." said Poppy. Rosie struts over to Poppy.

She's immediately back at Poppy's side, the Min-Sinclair heiress looking her up and down which makes Rosie nervous as the way Poppy stares is intense. Her doubts are quickly quelled as she's soon tugged harshly the collar. Poppy pulls her in roughly for a kiss, as their tongues dance and weave against each other, battling for dominance. They both step forwards towards the bed, and the noises that come out of Poppy is irresistible and music to her ears. She sounds incredible and Rosie can't get enough and with a flick of her tongue Poppy is putty in her hands.

They both fall towards the bed, Poppy ending up under Rosie. They pull away quickly to catch their breath, and Poppy's eyes are blown so much so, her pupils are dilated like a cat ready to catch its prey. Her lips parted and bruised, taking in oxygen as if all of her breath has been taken away. If Rosie thought she was in charge, she's got another thing coming. Their position is switched, as Poppy expertly flips them over, landing her on top of the other girl. Rosie ending up with her back against the bed as Poppy straddles her. "You're a good kisser, Hughes." she says and Rosie smiles mischievously "I try." she replies.

Poppy's quick to kiss Rosie again, as if she's her only lifeline teetering her to the world. Every kiss shared feels like sparks flying, the intensity and passion leaving them both breathless. It's not like Rosie's gonna give in and let Poppy top her, she quickly pull Poppy by the waist, bodies completely flushed against each other before rolling over so that their position is once again switched. This time Rosie comes out on top.

Before the other girl can complain, Rosie's quick to shut her up but trailing kisses from lips to her neck. Poppy smells like fresh cherries and vanilla, which for some reason is very fitting. After all cherries are sweet but the fruit itself can be dangerous, however there's a hint of danger. After all cherries do have cyanide in the seed. The whimpers and moans that come from Poppy's mouth are sensual and spurs Rosie on even more. She can't get enough of the blonde.

She can feel Poppy's nails taking across her back, and she's sure that those are definitely going to leave marks, not like she minds considering she's too far gone from the sound of Poppy's moans and whimpers.

Rosie looks at Poppy and she can't help but admire how beautiful Poppy looks under her, eyes half lidded and chest heaving. "You look better when you're quiet, Princess." said Rosie, but instead of reporting Poppy just pulls her back in and their lips are clashing against except this time its rough. Poppy pulling and tugging at her hair, while leaving small nibbles on her lips. Rosie knows that her lips are going to be all sorts of red and bruised the next morning.

Rosie's hand finds their way to the waistband of Poppy underwear, and she can feel the wet patch. She slides her hand inside and moves her fingers to find Poppy's clit, where she rubs small circles, and she feels the blonde jolt from the sudden contact and Rosie is about to apologise until she hears Poppy's breathy moans. "I swear to god, if you stop I'm going to fucking kill you." whimpered Poppy.

Rosie just smiles against Poppy's skin as she continues teasing Poppy until the other girl is a panting and whimpering mess. "I need your fingers inside me Hughes, stop fucking around and actually start fucking me." It's said so desperately Rosie finally grants the blonde her wish and starts pumping her fingers in and out until the blonde cums, back arched away from bed and a loud and filthy moan is all the can be heard. Rosie helps the other ride out her orgasm by cooing gentle words and leaving kisses that are definitely going to leave marks on the Poppy's unblemished skin.

-NSFW END-

-FLASHBACK END-

The casuak hook up turns into dates and outings, and both of them start to catch feelings for each other. As much as it surprises Poppy she genuinely enjoys the time that she spends with Rosie. The other girl always making sure to make Poppy smile. It doesn't help that Rosie had this weird way of knowing when Poppy was upset or stressed in which she'd always do something to help the blonde feel better. Rosie's become a constant, a home away from home in a sort. Always there even on Poppy's worse days, not giving in even when Poppy's relentlessly cruel and bitchy. If she weren't so fucking smitten Poppy would have thought that Rosie was a Saint considering how patient she is. However, she refuses to confess her feelings to the other girl first, after all she's a Min-Sinclair and they don't confess ever. People confess to her.

They're both stubborn, therefore they both refuse to even acknowledge their budding feelings for the other. Though there have been too many times where Poppy has gotten jealous when people stare too much at Rosie, though it's reserved and usually subtle. Poppy quietly stakes her claim by always having some sort of physical contact with Rosie. It could be something as simple as a hand on Rosie's forearm or wrist. But the real warning comes from her passive aggressiveness when others get too close to Rosie or the glares that are given if anyone is dumb enough to try and flirt with the other girl.

It's not like Rosie is any better. Whilst Poppy is subtle with her jealousy, Rosie is not. She's always quick hold Poppy's hand as if to signify that the blonde is hers and it's even worse if anyone ignores that. She becomes more physically affectionate. She hugs Poppy as if her life depends on it. There's also been a few times where if Rosie's patience was tested she'd get really jealous and the next time they're intimate she always leaves marks where no one but her or Poppy knows. It's also when she becomes quite dominant in the bedroom and it genuinely entertains Poppy so much so it's become her second favourite past time. The first definitely being their intimate moments.

It gets to the point where both of then get so frustrated they confess how they feel that the same time, which becomes one of their inside jokes considering they both felt like idiots for not confessing their feelings sooner.

However, it's not like summer lasts forever and both of them end up breaking it off, since Poppy actually likes Rosie and she refuses to put her through the shit that goes on in Belvoire. "It was fun while it lasted, Hughes, but I'm sorry. I have to go back and I'm not sure I'll ever see you again." said Poppy, voice cold as ice as if the whole thing didn't matter. Poppy would be lying if she said that it meant nothing, considering she's never been happier. The other girl definitely had a special place in her heart but as they say if you really live someone you have to let them go. She might be cruel but she's not about to fuck Rosie's life up by involving her in the stupidity of Belvoire, she deserves better. Maybe after unibersity she can find Rosie and they can try again.

Rosie's quite sure that she's never going to find anyone that makes her feel the way Poppy does, but she's not one to make things more complicated. "I'm glad I met you Poppy Min-Sinclair, it's been fun while it lasted. Maybe someday we can meet each other again."

Imagine her surprise when it turns out that Poppy attends Belvoire, both of them shocked to see each other again. The only difference being that Poppy seems much colder than the one she met before. Her eyes didn't have that shine or hint of mischief. It looked too detached. "What are you staring at?" said one of the girls following Poppy. Her eyes widened in surprise as the person her roommate Zoey warned her about was Poppy. She's barely acknowledged by Poppy as she just walks away without a word.

Things start to get more complicated as both of them are put against each other, as they compete for the top spot. It's not like Rosie really cared about the fucking thing, in all honesty she didn't even want to compete with Poppy but it's not like she had a choice considering no one cared that she didn't want to compete with Poppy. It gets to the point Rosie avoids Poppy altogether, not really wanting the unsolicited drama with the other girl.

It becomes even worse when rumours start that th reason why the two girls avoided each other like the plague was because Carter was cheating on Poppy with Rosie, and this gets blown out of proportion during the football game in which the screen shows a poorly photoshopped photo of Rosie and Carter kissing.

The way Poppy looked at Rosie broke her heart. Poppy looked tired and upset. She looked like she was betrayed and worse of all the look was directed at her. It's made even worse when Poppy wordlessly looks away, tears on her eyes as she runs to get away from the stadium.

Things change when Rosie chases after Poppy. It's the first time she sees Poppy cry, and it breaks her heart because how can she be so foolish. This was the person she fell for, and it sucked because she was the reason why Poppy was upset.

She approaches Poppy carefully, and as soon as she's noticed. Poppy's eyes narrow into a glare. "What do you want Hughes? Haven't you done enough already?" she yells, her voice full of venom. The words sting, but Rosie marches on, as she apologises. "I know I'm the last person you want to see, but I wanted to say I'm sorry. You didn't deserve all of that." She reaches out to try and comfort Poppy but she stops as remembers that she's the reason Poppy was crying in the first place. They both stand there in a tense silence, both not wanting to speak until they both say something at the same time. "Why didn't you tell me that you go to Belvoire?" they both say in sync.

Rosie lets Poppy speak first. "If you said that you were going to be attending Belvoire, maybe things would have been different." she says and this catches Rosie's attention. "Different how?" she asks and Poppy looks at her eyes softening as she says "I would have admitted that I was falling for you."

That's how they got back together.

[undermattsun-archive]

ushijima x fem!reader x kita | w.c 1.2k

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a/n: omg ok so here’s my fic for the super cool + epic collab for my server ;)) i’m rlly nervous cus i’ve never written a. fic like this so pls don’t be mean!!!! but like pls leave a comment below <333 also don’t forget to follow me (or i’ll BITE U jk xD) omg omg ok and don’t forget to check out the other fics for this super epic hot collab <33333 right here kidnapped by hq !!!!!!

warnings: inane rambling, i literally did not proofread this i would take breaks and start again without checking what i wrote last so it’s defs not coherent

I was just ur every day kind of girl. Nothing special to anyone...not ev en myself. All i knew was wake up, brush my hair (and teeth obvi!!)  and go out and go to university and to my part time job as a waitress ina  diner where not a lot of people would go to. Anway today was one of those boring days, i woke up with my alarm blaring at 6:00 am because i have a class at 8:00 am… it’s my least favorite one too. But yeah so i got up super early and made myself apple cinnamon brown sugar oatmeal and black coffee bc i’m also kinda broke bc i ran away from home bc my parents were those snobby rich people and i didn’t wanty end up like that ya know? i put on a really simple outfit bc i was feeling lazy since i woke up late!

(we need to bring back sillly bandz! they r so much fun!!) 

So i was walking to my early 8 oclock class all the way on the otherside of campus when suddenly ther e was a frisbee flying right at my face! I tried to dodge it but it still hit me right in the nose and i screamed so loud i didnt hear anything else but me screaming in really loud pain. 

“Are u ok??” i grab my nose in pain but it doesnt rlly feel broken or bleeding so i open my eyes that i didnt evern realized that i had close to see rlly gold eyes staring down at me. I scrunch up my eyebrows bc im confused bc he’s wearing overalls and a straw hat? Did i hit my head or something and am now seeing things?

“I’m ok do i know u?” i ask.. despite him looking weird in his farmer outfit he looked familiar so i had to ask.

“Sometimes i go to the diner u work at after im done at the farm bc there are good mochi waffles (a/n omg wait do they serve mochi waffles at dinners? I’ve only had it from  bakery xD)” he says with a really cool tone. I nod my head bc it makes sense. Before i can say thank you to him for asking how i am doing he grab my hand “please marry meand my cofarmer” 

“W-w-w-what??????” i yell my heart is pounding bc even though he is really super pretty i don’t eevn remember him ever being at the diner and like i remember a lot of my customers faces bc a lot of them come back a lot. 

“Marry us we will make u super happy pls it was love at first sight.” he says confidendtly (sp?) as he holds my hand tighter and tighter.

“I-i-i-i-i-i don’t even know ur name???” i whisper softly under my breath, “HOW can i marry u???”

“Shinsuke…..” a deep voice goes off behind me and i pull my hand out of his hand to look behind me, a big big BIG man stands there also wearing overalls and a straw hat and also a single wheat hanging from his kissable lips.

“Wakatoshi i have found the perfect housewife for us,, i have asked her to marry us.”

“But i’m just a normal girl from a normal world, how can i possible be apart of the world the two of you have made in the farm world?” the offer was amazing, the life of a housewife for these two perfect men that i’ve met by chance.

“She doesn’t havea choice the wedding is tonight ur marrying us.” the man who was called wakatoshi says with a very serious voice and facial expression. before i can ask hes suddenly pulling me to my feet and dragging me away.

“i have class!!” i say in protest as he continues to pull me towards a green tractor.

“you don’t need education…do you know how to sweep and cook eggs? and maybe make butter?” shinsuke asks following behind as wakatoshi pulls me onto the tractor.

“of course i can make eggs! but why butter?”

“we live on a farm darlin’ ya gotta know how to make butter.” shinsuke says and i nod my head. it makes sense.

“i can’t just leave my life behind tho i’ve gotten this far all by myself” i sigh even tho i’m comfortably sitting in wakatoshis lap i can’t let myself fall victim to their charms!!! i’m independent !!!

“give it up already your ours now…..” wakatoshi says seriously. i pout. he can’t just talk to me like that. i’m not a kid! i go to unverisity and have a job!!! 

“it’s too late ur already wearing the engagement ring” i look down at my hand and gasp to see a beautiful ring on my finger.

“this cant be real?” i shake my head my head.

“we already have your dress and the venue ready.”

“what?” the big grrrn tractor pulls up to a really pretty outdoor wedding venue. my jaw drops to see my entire family, even my parents waiting.

“go in there” wakatoshi points at a tent and i nod. i walk over and am immediately being changed by two guys who look the same?

“don’t worry we r gay.”

“and twins.”

“but not gay for each other bc that’d be illegal or something  and the author would get Cancelled™” it makes sense. i turn and look in the mirror and i gasp. i look beautiful. i may be an average girl but in this moment my velvet chestnut locks are curled to perfect perfection and the makeup isn’t too much or too little. these gay twins sure worked their magic!

i step out of the tent and look down the aisle to see my two farmer husbands looking handsome as ever (here’s what we look like teehee xD i know we look super cute!!) 

“y/n, im sorry me and ur moms bitchy richness made u run away but please let me walk u down the aisle on ur wedding day.”

“hello my name is agayshi and i am also gay, and here to officiate your wedding.”

“wait ur gay too?”

“yeah i’m married to that guy over there in the wacky inflatable cars salesman suit but we’re both respectively fucjing one of those gay twins. any way. do you y/n y/m/n y/l/n take shinsuke canonical rice farmer and ushijima farmer au to be your lawfully wedded husbands?”

“i-“ i look between the two men. my dream wedding. my dream men. i look around at all my friends and family. i nod.

“yeah i do.”

“congrats you may kiss the bride” at the same time wakatoshi and shinsuke grab my head and manage to mash all 3 of our mouths together.

i’m just so happy.

….or so i thought.

i woke up, it all turned out to be a dream </3

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(a/n: hey everyone sorry for the sad ending but like...r there rlly happy endings in real life?? soz i just think we need to get more realistic w our fanfics </3)

like. comment. subscribe for more awesomesauce fics like this ;) !!! 

[endlessymphony]

🧸 Congrats on 50! It is very much so deserved and so are all the future followers! If it’s not too much could I request a fluffy blurb with the one and only Remus Lupin, like a classic friends to lovers awkward and sweet first date shenanigans? Ilyyyy

thank u my beloved anon! <3

i think i’m in love with you. (pt. 1???)

pairing - remus lupin x reader

summary - the good ol’ best friends to lovers trope

warnings - cussing, lots of awkwardness, mentions of underage drinking

a/n - this is vaguely inspired by my ‘you are the kind of boy that they write love songs about.’ spotify playlist— because it’s adorable + has the same vibe

a/n continued; pls let me know if you guys want me to continue this fic to include the date! i honestly think this is just so sweet and cute, and would love to hear some feedback about it :) (might make it a two parter if y’all like it enough!!)

you and remus had been friends since fourth year, and while it wasn’t quite the ‘perfect’ first impression that brought you together, recalling the memory makes you smile nonetheless. most would claim that first impressions are truly everything, but you would beg to differ- seeing as being drenched in pumpkin juice by a very apologetic and slightly aloof boy has now led to one of the best friendships you’ve ever had.

tonight was just an average friday night in the gryffindor dorms as the marauders were hosting their usual ‘study’ night; obviously there was lots of chatter and laughter with an absence of any real studying happening, the name only aided in the fight against being caught by any teachers.

you and remus had claimed the couch whilst lily, james and sirius were scattered about the floor, peter sitting in a chair beside the couch.

glasses in hand, you were all slightly tipsy off of combinations of muggle alcohol that sirius managed to get his hands on, chests feeling as if they were alight. your skin tingled, brain and tongue feeling fuzzy as you laughed along with the others about something that james said.

you looked over at remus and caught him staring at you, you made brief eye contact before he looked away, a bit shy, but you giggled at decided to brush it off.

“you guys will never guess what i got for us tonight.” sirius started, legs slightly wobbly as he stood up. he reached into his pocket and retrieved a vial of veritaserum, “what better way to play truth or dare... then with some of this?”

you all looked around at each-other skeptically, knowing all about what that tiny vial can do to friendships, relationships, and your head. “i say we do it.” james pipes up, a smirk coming to his face. “...unless any of you have something to hide.” he turns to look at you and remus, raising his eyebrows a bit. you and remus turned to look at once another, cheeks darkening as your faces start to heat up. you look away quickly and try to ignore it, again.

ignore that feeling pooling in your stomach. the way your heart begins to flutter when you lock gazes. no, it can’t mean anything, right?

you all eventually give in to sirius’ antics, passing around the vial- everyone taking a shot. you’re the one to finish off the potion, it was an odd taste, your face contorting as you swallow it. not sweet, but not bitter, but also not sour- somehow all three combined to be one of the weirdest things you’ve ever tasted.

you place the glass vial down on the table in front of you, everyone waiting for the potion to take its effect. you sipped on your drink as you waited, hoping the taste of whatever lily mixed up would wash away the taste of the veritaserum.

and soon enough the ‘truth’ serum, as its called, began to work its magic on the rest of the group and yourself. your thoughts began to run- what if i mention the way that remus makes me feel? no, y/n, we’re not doing that tonight, plus no one will ask about it anyways. well, you spoke-thought too soon. everyone knew in some way or another that you and remus each had a thing for one another, so why not play on it when you’re both forced to tell the truth?

lily turned to the two of you with a wicked grin, just finishing up her dare, which you had missed due to the fact that you were consumed by your thoughts. her voice snapped you out of the haze, “so, y/n, truth or dare?” she drawled. both were terrible options. you knew that if you chose dare, you would end up licking someone’s foot or running down the corridor topless. but! truth was all the more terrifying. though, you suppose it’s the lesser embarrassing one of the two.

“truth.” you responded flatly, mumbling under your breath begging the universe to not mention remus. “what’s going on with you and remus, hm? do you like each-other?” her eyes glinted mischievously as she swirled the remnants of the drink in her hand around her cup. you wanted to say ‘nothing!’ but that wasn’t happening, mouth going before mind.

“i think he’s cute, and he gives me this weird butterfly feeling in my chest and sometimes talking to him makes me feel nauseous because i’m so nervous, maybe i think i’m in love with him.” you slapped your hand over your mouth to stop what felt like a stream of verbal diarrhea, eyes widening at what you just said. “shit, fuck. remus, i’m so sorry.” you said turning to him as you stood up.

you could almost cry from the embarrassment, well, that’s what you were doing as you speed walked back to your dorm. you couldn’t stay there, not after that, and you definitely couldn’t face remus. you just told your best friend you were in love with him, for merlins sake! if that wasn’t going to ruin the friendship- no, don’t even go there. that will ruin the friendship.

you launched yourself onto your bed, door shutting behind you. burying your head in the pillows, you just wished the mattress would swallow you so that you didn’t have to face reality. tears were scarce by this point, most of them streaming down your cheeks as you sped away into the hall.

remus was still sitting in the common room, dumbfounded. “shit.” he mumbled, mind completely scattered after your turn. james and sirius turned to him, sympathetically, well as sympathetically as they could until sirius cocked an eyebrow and started to muse, “you gonna go get them lover-boy?”

“yeah-“ he smoothed his hands on his sweater, “i am.” remus stood up and took after you, knowing that you always holed yourself up in your dorm whenever anything upset you. ‘they’re bound to be wrapped in blankets, face in the pillows’ he thought.

and that’s how you were exactly. wrapped in a crocheted blanket, face in the pillows. you didn’t know if you wanted to scream, or cry, or just run away and get a new identity and start a new life at beauxbatons or something as a transfer student.

remus reached your dorm, fist quivering as he started to knock on your door. “y/n.” he called, voice wavering. you sat up, “the doors open, rem.” he peeked in, a goofy grin coming to his face. “there you are.” he chimed, closing the door behind him as he walked in, sitting on your bed beside you.

“you always do that, y’know? whenever you’re upset or embarrassed, you always wrap yourself in that blanket and lay face down. sometimes you scream, or cry, or just end up taking a nap.” he chuckles lightly. “i hope you don’t feel bad about earlier.” remus stares at his feet, tapping one against the hardwood flooring. “i just don’t wanna ruin our friendship with my stupid crush.” you admit, feeling defeated, but he chuckles again.

you turn to look at him and cock your head, “what’s so funny?” you feel even worse, is he mocking you right now? laughing in your face? ouch- remus you absolute douchebag.

but it’s none of that, “well, y/n, to put it plainly, i think i’m in love with you too.” he stops his foot, looking up at you. your eyes meet, hearts both racing. “oh.” is all you can manage. his eyes dart back to the floor, “would, uh” he clears his throat slightly, “could i kiss you? maybe? would that be okay?” remus’ face starts to turn pink, a colour that you always thought complimented him quite well.

“yeah. that would be fine.” you replied, breathlessly. him saying that completely winded you. he gently placed his pointer finger under your chin, thumb bumping against your bottom lip as he leaned in. your eyes fluttered shut as you met him in the middle, lips brushing. it took everything in you not to just die then and there.

you bumped noses a few times throughout the kiss, giggles filling the room as you both pulled away- feeling the same breathless feeling once more. “so, this isn’t gonna ruin our friendship, right?” you asked, a smile playing on your lips. “of course not, if anything, now i just want you to be my best-friend AND my partner.”

“that would be lovely, rem.” you smiled even wider, pulling him in for another kiss.

maybe this whole awkward and messy confession wasn’t as bad as you thought.

[reinerispretty]

rotations. (zuko x f!reader) pt23

thank you so much for your support last chapter!! i super duper appreciate each and every one of you :) if you can, pls share!! but u don’t have to i will love u just the same WARNING THOUGH MINOR SPOILERS FOR THE COMICS IN HERE READ AT UR OWN RISK

pt1

pt22

pt24

“It’s my fault mostly, I think. I pushed him away when I shouldn’t have and I didn’t tell him why. Then today, everything seemed normal again.” (Y/N) laughed. “I guess I don’t really know what normal is for Zuko and I anymore.” 

Zuko had been gone for a few months. He had missed his own eighteenth birthday, as well as (Y/N’s) seventeenth. Sometimes he sent messenger hawks back home, indicating that all was well and he would return shortly, but that was the extent of his messages. Every time she saw a hawk fly into the palace, (Y/N) felt her chest tighten in anticipation of what Zuko would say. Did he find his mother? Would she be returning home with him? What had she been doing all of this time? (Y/N) didn’t like having more questions than answers. 

During Zuko’s absence, she and Ren became a lot closer. She had fun on the few dates they had gone on and enjoyed his company, but she wasn’t quite sure if she was ready to call him her boyfriend. After all, the first boyfriend she had broke up with her because of the boy she had loved her entire life who now had a girlfriend, so she didn’t have the best of luck in the boyfriend department. 

But there was also part of her that urged her to take a chance on Ren. He was kind and smart and loved to hear about her adventures, and he was the first person she had ever befriended that wasn’t in her immediate group. He was different than anything she had experienced before. He had never fought anyone if it wasn’t for practicing earthbending and he certainly had never feared for his life. He liked to drink tea and create tiny creatures for her using his bending. He was normal. (Y/N) liked normal. 

She had been walking the halls of the palace with Ren when she noticed the servants all begin running around. Confused, she stopped one to ask what was going on. Her reflexes immediately prepared for a fight, but calmed once she saw the excited smile on the servant girl’s face. “The Fire Lord and his mother are arriving!” 

(Y/N) would feel a little bit bad later, for leaving Ren behind, but in that moment she darted out of the palace and into the courtyard, where a large carriage was pulling up. She walked down the steps with her robes billowing behind her and ignored the servants hushed whispers about what a proper royal greeting was. She ran up to the carriage and flung the door open before the servants could. Zuko’s face appeared first, only inches from hers, and a smile slowly crept onto his features. She let him crawl out of the carriage before wrapping him in a hug. 

“Don’t ever leave for that long again!” She exclaimed, punching him lightly in the shoulder. 

“Ow!” He feigned hurt, rubbing his arm. “You could’ve come with me, you know.” 

“Someone had to keep this place running.” She rolled her eyes playfully before diverting them back to the carriage. Another man stepped out with a little girl who could be no older than five. (Y/N) looked at Zuko quizzically before the final passenger exited. 

When she was younger, (Y/N) thought that Ursa was the prettiest woman in the Fire Nation. She had been so different from the rest of the royal family. Her kindness exuded from her. Ursa had always been able to tell when (Y/N) was upset and talked her through some of the more difficult issues she had experienced with her parents. Despite being royalty, she had never treated (Y/N) any differently than her other children. She had been the mother that (Y/N) always wanted. 

So for those very reasons, (Y/N) could not help her eyes from welling with tears when she stared at Ursa’s face. She tried her best to hold back her tears so that she could speak. “I don’t know if you remember me, but--” 

“(Y/N),” Ursa said. “Of course I remember you.” And (Y/N) couldn’t help but throw herself at Ursa and wrap her arms around her. Ursa held her tight and stroked her hair like she used to when she was a child. 

She pulled away, wiping violently at the tears that streamed down her face. She gave the group a small smile. “Sorry, I really thought I’d be able to control myself better.” 

“(Y/N), this is my husband, Noren,” Ursa gestured to the man standing beside her. (Y/N) gave him a curt smile and a bow.

“Zuko has told us a lot about you,” Noren said. She looked back to see Zuko’s face turn a shade of bright red. 

“Good things, I hope.” 

Ursa gestured down to the little girl at Noren’s side. “And this is Kiyi, our daughter.” (Y/N) bent down to Kiyi’s level and stuck out her hand for her to shake. 

“Hi, Kiyi,” She said softly. “I’m (Y/N), Zuko’s friend.” 

“Zuzu,” Kiyi said quietly, before hiding behind her father’s leg. The statement surprised (Y/N), because there was only one other person in the world who called him that. And she just so happened to be missing from this happy reunion. She looked at Zuko again and he gave her a slight shake of his head, indicating that they would discuss Azula later. 

“Who is that?” Noren asked, nodding his head toward Ren. (Y/N’s) eyes opened wide as she realized she had completely forgotten about him in the excitement. 

“Oh!” She exclaimed, running back to Ren to pull him toward the group. “I’m so sorry, we were walking around the palace before you guys got here. This is Ren! My--” 

“Her boyfriend,” Ren said with a smile, giving a bow to Zuko and his family. “It’s truly an honor to meet all of you. Especially you, Fire Lord, I’ve heard so much about you.” 

(Y/N) watched as Zuko’s pleasant smile turned into a deep frown. She took a step away to distance herself from Ren before putting a smile on her own face. “You all have been traveling for so long, why don’t I ask the kitchens to put a nice dinner together?”

“We’d love that!” Ursa said cheerfully. If she had caught on to the awkward moment, she gave no indication. “Will you be joining us, Ren?” 

“I’d rather this just be a family affair,” Zuko said. (Y/N) knew that tone. He was angry, but she didn’t know why. 

“No problem!” Ren said with a smile. He grabbed (Y/N’s) hand. “You can have dinner at my house, if you’d like.” 

“(Y/N) is family,” Zuko stared down at Ren disapprovingly. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” (Y/N) said, desperate to get everyone out of the tense situation. He turned to her and smiled once more before kissing her on the cheek and walking away. (Y/N) felt her face heat up, but she wasn’t sure if it was from flattery or embarrassment. 

At dinner, Zuko and (Y/N) walked Ursa and Noren through their past few years together, starting at Zuko’s banishment and finishing right before he left to find his mother. Kiyi sat quietly at the dinner table, playing with her noodles. 

“Does the palace still make fruit tarts?” Ursa questioned. Both (Y/N) and Zuko nodded. 

“They can make whatever you’d like,” Zuko said, but Ursa shook her head. 

“I’d like a fruit tart. If there’s one thing I’ve missed besides the two of you, it’s those tarts.” The servants left the dining room immediately to prepare the treat. “Fruit tarts are the reason (Y/N) and Zuko are such close friends.” 

“Oh?” Noren raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure that’s an interesting story.” 

“Not as interesting as you might think,” (Y/N) admitted. “I came to Zuko’s tenth birthday party and all the fruit tarts were gone, so he snuck me down to the kitchens to get some more.” 

“I still remember the look on Little (Y/N’s) face when she saw me catch them,” Ursa laughed. 

“As a nine year old, I found the royal family to be very intimidating!” 

“You don’t now?” Zuko asked, a hint of a playful smile at his lips. (Y/N) scoffed. 

“You’re about as intimidating as a turtle duck.” They all erupted into laughter. (Y/N) couldn’t help but think that this is what home felt like. 

---

On the rare occasion that (Y/N) couldn’t sleep, she liked walking out to the pond and sitting in the moonlight. It was one of the few moments when her life was actually peaceful and while she usually sat alone, she liked to pretend that Yue was sitting right beside her. 

That night, (Y/N) tried her hardest to get to sleep, but she couldn’t. Her mind raced with the days’ events. She was so excited to reunite with Ursa and meet her family, but she was also confused as to why Ren would so boldly put a label on their relationship when it wasn’t something they had discussed. She also couldn’t figure out why Zuko was upset. (Y/N) hated not knowing things, so she chose to walk down to the pond to hopefully clear her head. 

When she arrived, Ursa was already sitting by the edge of the pond. She noticed (Y/N’s) presence almost immediately and pat the grass beside her. “A lot on your mind?” 

(Y/N) sighed. “You have no idea.” 

“I used to come here whenever I had something to think about, too. I’m here to listen, if you need it.” 

“I don’t know how much Zuko has told you about me, but before he left, our relationship was sort of...bad. We had become very distant from each other.” 

“Why is that?” 

“It’s my fault mostly, I think. I pushed him away when I shouldn’t have and I didn’t tell him why. Then today, everything seemed normal again.” (Y/N) laughed. “I guess I don’t really know what normal is for Zuko and I anymore.” 

“I think, for you two, normal is being together. Whatever that might entail.” (Y/N) stared at Ursa for a moment before turning to the pond to mull over what she meant. After a brief lull in conversation, Ursa spoke again. “How long have you and Ren been together?” 

(Y/N) shrugged. “A few months? We’ve gone on a few dates and I liked spending time with him, but today was the first day he had ever called himself my boyfriend.” 

“That’s good news, isn’t it?” The truth was, (Y/N) wasn’t so sure. She knew he meant well, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that today hadn’t been the best day to say something like that. 

“Maybe,” was all (Y/N) could say. She hated being like this. She thought she had grown into someone who was sure of herself. Now, her emotions were one scrambled mess. She couldn’t quite tell how she felt about anyone. “Why are you sitting out here?” 

“Being here brings back many memories. Some happy, others not so much.” Ursa smiled at her. “I’m sure you’ve come to realize the intricacies of palace life.” (Y/N) nodded. 

“Zuko and I have spent a long time trying to figure out who to trust.” 

“At least you know you can trust each other.” Ursa paused for a moment, as if she wasn’t sure if she should say what she was about to say. “I was very happy when Zuko told me you were still in his life. You were set on such different paths after his banishment. I’m glad he had someone like you to come back to.” 

“It took a while,” (Y/N) admitted. “A long while. But we got there eventually.” 

“I believe that the strongest relationships are held together by unbreakable strings. No matter where you go, you will always have Zuko.” Ursa punctuated her sentence with a yawn. “We should get to bed. I heard some servants whispering about a celebratory breakfast. And lunch.” 

---

Weeks passed and Zuko became increasingly happier in his position as Fire Lord. Having his mother around stepfather around was a nice treat and he was thoroughly enjoying getting closer with his half-sister, Kiyi. Even his relationship with (Y/N) felt like it was starting to improve again. The only downside to everything was Ren. 

Zuko didn’t like Ren from the moment (Y/N) brought him over, but he had tried to hide that from her. When Ren introduced himself as her boyfriend, Zuko felt an anger rise in him that he had never experienced before. Sure, he had been a little jealous when (Y/N) was with Sokka, but he knew Sokka was a good person at heart and would treat her kindly no matter what. He could trust Sokka with (Y/N). Every fiber of his being told him not to trust Ren. He wasn’t sure why, but his own instincts hadn’t failed him recently. So whenever he could, he would insert himself into their walks or conversations. He tried to play it off as friendliness, but he could tell that (Y/N) knew something was off. 

Zuko had been walking down one of the less-traveled corridors of the palace since his meeting had ended early. When he had a foggy mind, he liked to clear his head by walking around the expansive halls. He usually ended his walks feeling refreshed. 

Zuko was surprised when he heard voices coming from one of the rooms in the hall. He followed the voices to the very end of the hall, where the door had been left slightly ajar. Zuko peered through the crack in the door and saw Ren talking to his father, a very wealthy Earth Kingdom aristocrat. 

“How are things with the girl?” His father asked. 

“Very well! She and I spend all of our free time together when the Fire Lord isn’t around.” Zuko frowned. 

“And she’s falling for you?” 

“Definitely. She’s a giggly mess whenever I’m around. I plan on proposing by the end of the year.” 

This nearly sent Zuko to the ground. He hadn’t realized that (Y/N) and Ren were far enough along in their relationship to consider marriage. (Y/N) hadn’t even mentioned it to Zuko. 

“She has no clue what you’re doing, correct?” 

“Not one. When she’s not with me, she’s busy running around for the Fire Lord.” 

“Excellent,” Ren’s father drawled. “With her as an addition to our family, we’ll be able to get the Fire Lord to do anything we want.” 

“He’s practically in love with her. He’ll do anything she says, I guarantee it.” 

Zuko realized that that was the real reason why Ren wanted to be with (Y/N). He didn’t care for her at all, he simply wanted to use her connection to him to further his family’s political advances. The anger inside of him burned hot and bright, and it took everything in him to not send a fireball at them right then. Instead, he walked away. 

When Zuko found Ren and his father again, they were on their way out of the palace. “Wait!” Zuko called out, running down the steps to catch up to them. His guards followed him like shadows. Ren and his father turned around and bowed at him. 

“Fire Lord Zuko,” Ren’s father said. “To what do we owe this pleasure?” 

“I would like to inform the two of you that you are no longer welcome in the Fire Nation. From this moment on, you are banished from our land.” 

“What?” Ren asked, his jaw dropping in disbelief. Zuko turned to face him. 

“I heard all about your little plan to marry (Y/N) to get me to do your bidding. I knew I didn’t like you from the first day that I met you. I didn’t know until today that there was an actual reason.” 

“You’re insane,” Ren spat, just as his father said, “This is all a misunderstanding.” 

Zuko set his jaw and raised his chin high. “I know what I heard. I am Fire Lord Zuko and I will not tolerate conspiracy, regardless of who perpetrates it. For this reason, you are banished from the Fire Nation.” The guards seized the two men and dragged them off of the palace grounds as they shouted curses at Zuko. 

---

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[hops-hunny]

Distance Makes the Heart Grow

CHAPTER 5.5

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: (Y/n) lives a normal life. But that’s the issue, it’s normal, it’s plain, and it’s growing boring. Everyday she wishes for something, anything to spice up her life. But, when her old school friend (and crush) shows up at her bakery with a new look (and what looks like a new life), what will it bring for her? Will their puppy love grow? Will his big secret lead to the end of them or will it spark a new beginning?

Warnings: wizards experiencing muggle items, one line about sexual temptation, illegal bribery

A/N: LMAO WHY IS THE HALF CHAPTER LONGER THAN CHAPTER 5 PLS THIS IS SO EMBARASSING

(Y/n) rubbed the sleep from her eyes, still tired despite going through her entire morning routine. Although she was exhausted, she also felt an extreme burst of excitement. Although she grew up wealthy for a small portion of her life, her parents had never liked to travel. They much preferred sticking to themselves and associating with other pure bloods. The furthest they had ever traveled was from their main home to their summer home and even then the two weren’t that far from one another. She nuzzled into Neville’s neck further, tightening her grasp around him as he carried her down the stairs.

When they got to the landing, he brought them to the main living room where everyone was waiting. She heard a familiar squeal causing her eyes to snap open just in time to see a camera flash.

“Sorry you guys are just so cute together! Plus who knew you were this adorable when you’re sleepy?” Twyla said, cooing as she walked over and pinching the girl’s cheek. She grumbled, smacking her hand away as she buried her head back in Neville’s neck.

“Twyla? What are you doing here? You’re coming too?” she asked, watching as the girl nodded, jumping in excitement. Her (e/c) eyes narrowed as she peeked at her. “Really? I also suspect that you requested this time off?” the blonde scratched the back of her neck, backing away from the girl slowly.

“Listen, (Y/n), baby, dear boss of mine. Permission to have time off in order to go to Italy?” she pleaded, flashing her a sickly sweet smile. 

“Request denied.” she replied almost instantaneously. She giggled some at the girl’s reaction, trying to keep the straight face she had going on. But she couldn’t, Twyla’s over dramatic scene she was causing was far too funny. “I’m only kidding Twy, there’s no one I’d rather spend time in a new country with. Well, maybe there is.” Neville squeezed at her thighs, lifting her up higher at the announcement. He went to tease her before Harrison cleared his throat, standing on a stool so the mass of people could see him.

“Alright well I’ve got some news.” he started but was cut short.

“Good or bad?” the twins said in unison, glaring at each other for having the same thought.

“Well, it’s news. Because there’s so many of us, it’d be a bit strange for us to use floo powder. It’d cause way too much attention which would already have people quite suspicious about our visit.” he said, clasping his hands together. “Which means we’ll be using muggle transportation.” The main eight chimed up, all their speech lapping over each other. Twyla whistled, causing them all to stop speaking. “Thank you. Now if there’s any questions, please ask them one at a time.”

“How the hell are we gonna drive to Italy?! Can cars go in the water?” Seamus blurted out, causing everyone in the room to give him a disappointed look. Ron smacked the back of his head, letting out a troubled sigh.

“Whoever said there was no such thing as a dumb question must’ve never met you, Finnegan.” Harrison said in a fake sweet tone. “We’re going by plane which means we’ll need to go through the muggle airport.” Neville cleared his throat, causing everyone to turn their attention to him.

“And what about our guns? Weapons? Correct me if I’m wrong, but those can’t be taken through airport security.” he said, everyone else to make noises of agreement. The bearded man sucked on his teeth, releasing a soft breath.

“Well, we’re all smart, capable people. Plus you know muggles, money talks with them. Shouldn’t be too hard to get ourselves through with our weapons intact.” he said, causing everyone to go into thought about what they’d do to evade security. “Any more questions?”

“Yeah, how long are we going to be there for? I sorta have a job.” Twyla said. (Y/n) rolled her eyes, squinting them at the back of the girl’s head which caused a small jolt of electricity to shock her. She let out a yelp, glaring knowingly at the girl. “I know that was you!”

“Alright if there’s no more questions, let’s get to the airport!”

---------------------------------

As they got out of the car, (Y/n) looked around in awe. The airport had to be one of the busiest places she’d ever been, and she attended Hogwarts. Many different tunnels, windows, and levels all stacked as high as her sight could reach. The worst part of it all was the abundance of people, especially with them being muggles. It wasn’t that she disliked them, it was more so she feared them. She constantly felt anxious like they could see right through her and would call her out on the spot. As she felt her breath get shallow, she ran up to Neville clinging to his arm as they walked. He looked down at her smiling before intertwining their fingers.

She gasped as the door walked open automatically as they went through, eyes growing wide. Neville heard the noise looking down at her. She gave him a confused look. “I thought you said there was no magic here?” she said, confused by how the doors were doing that. He chuckled some, pecking the top of her head.

“There isn’t. It’s all muggle technology. If you think that’s cool, I’m curious what your reaction to the plane will be.” 

(Y/n) kept close to the tall man’s side, ignoring the weird looks they were receiving. She couldn’t blame them. Her and Neville were complete opposites. It was as if they both climbed out of two separate books and had formed a new one which in a way, they had. Everyone continued to follow Harrison, watching as he slid a large numbered bill to the man. He moved out of the way, letting them skip the line before they got to the metal detectors. (Y/n) began to sweat nervously knowing that every single man with her right now was fully armed and loaded.

“I’ve got this, don’t worry mini boss!” Seamus said, walking up to the front of the line. Neville groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. He cleared his throat as he stepped up to the short man in the uniform. The man crossed his arms, glaring up at him. “Hello…” he trailed off, looking at the nametag on the man, “Alfredo! Listen, why don’t you be a champ and let us by?” he said, handing the man a few 20s. However, he didn’t budge.

“You think I’m going to let you through for 40 bucks?” he snapped. “I happen to take my job as an airport security member very seriously. I’d have half the mind to call the cops on you right now for not wanting to follow the mandatory metal detector procedure.” At this point the girl was shaking. Blaise rolled his eyes, walking up to the man. He gave him a charismatic smirk. Grabbing the man’s hand he placed a kiss on his knuckles.

“Alfredo, right?” he asked, watching as the boy nodded along in a trance. “Charmed. I’m Blaise Zabini. Listen, I know my friend here insulted your character and you seem like a very nice, good boy,” he purred, staring into his eyes intently. Whipping out his wallet he pulled out four hundred dollar bills tucking them into the boy’s front pocket, leaving his hand to linger there. “So why don’t you let us through, yeah? And maybe when I come back you can give me a call.” The boy stumbled behind the machine, looking both ways before turning off the sensors. They all began to quickly file through before anyone would notice. Blaise being the last one threw the man a wink before catching up with his friends.

“That’s not fair! Blaise has pretty privilege!” Seamus whined, causing Fred to snort.

“Perhaps you should invest in some then. You seemed like you could use it back there.” he said, snickering as George joined in. Draco even gave a few chuckles before covering it with a cough.

(Y/n) looked around the airport, still curious about everything. Sure Hogwarts had a few moving floors and stairs that moved but these were..different? Maybe they were some more of that muggle technology Neville had mentioned earlier.

“You see that?” the boss said, pointing to a set of the moving stairs. She nodded, continuing to eye them curiously. “Those are called escalators. You stand on them and they move. We’re about to get on one in a second!” she gulped at that but nodded.

“U-um, will you hold my hand on it? It’s kinda scary..” she asked, jumping in surprise as he wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her into his chest, embracing her tightly.

“God, you're so precious. Of course I’ll hold your hand.” he reached his hand out, grabbing her smaller one in his large one. As they neared it, she found she wasn’t as nervous as she had been previously. Especially not with the twins running up the wrong side, screaming at each other in confusion about why they weren’t moving anywhere.

“They seem to be out of order!” George said, continuing to run up them. Ron turned around glaring at his pathetic older brothers.

“They’re not broken, you’re just on the wrong side, idiots! Why do you think we got on this one?” he yelled to them, watching as they froze. As they reached the landing again they ran up the correct side, giving Ron a smack on the back of the head as they passed him.

“Oh you know, for flavor!”

As they neared the terminal, her eyes began to sparkle with curiosity. Even though the majority of it was covered by the window panes, she could see bits of the different planes in between.

“Alright for most of you, this is your spot. The boarding should be beginning soon so keep an ear peeled.” Harrison said. The extra men that had come with the nodded before making their way to the long line. They looked very out of place compared to everyone else in line. Although some had disguised themselves in Hawaiian shirts, a lot of them still adorned their usual attire of all black suits. (Y/n) went to join them but was pulled back, the tattooed man giving her a look.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To get on the plane? I thought we were taking one?” she said, a lost look on her face. He smiled at her, dragging her along.

“Oh we are, we’re just taking one of our own.” he said, a smug look present on his face. She went to ask him what he meant but stopped as they made it to a private section of the airport, walking straight through a terminal with no line. 

“Woah! This is yours, Nev?” she asked, running around the interior. It was larger than she thought it’d be. There were a few couches inside along with a few cushioned chairs. Tables were embedded into the ground, stationed around the various seats.

“Yep! All mine, petal. Only the best for you, pretty girl.” Her heart began to race at the name, looking back at him with a smile. 

“Geez, he really is Mr.Moneybags! This thing is loaded, bigger than any plane I’ve ever been on.” Twyla chimed, throwing herself onto one of the couches with a sigh. Draco took a seat beside her, lifting her legs into his lap.

“I have one too, you know.” he said, causing her to jerk up. Giving him a teasing smile, she pinched his cheek lovingly.

“Aww! Dray’s so cute when he’s jealous! C’mere!” she said, lunging forward onto the man as she covered his face in kisses. (Y/n) giggled some letting out a small scream as a pair of arms pulled her back. Neville nuzzled his nose into her neck before littering kisses all over her face.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. You look so cute when you’re excited.” she smiled at his words, hiding her face in his chest. She still had yet to ask him about the room situation. There was only 2 hours till they were set to land so if she wanted to get it out, she had better do it soon.

“Hey Nev? I-I-I was wondering i-if you wanted to maybe..maybe um...share a room together?” Neville froze at the words, the movement of his hands ceasing. Had she really just said what he thought she had? So many thoughts were running through his head, some less savory than others. “I just thought it would be nice. I know you’ll probably be busy during the day so I-I’d enjoy being able to be with you at night. N-not like that! I just-”

“Of course, baby. I’d love to.” he said, turning her around so he could place a kiss on her lips. Before he could begin to deepen it, a childish chorus of ooo’s echoed across the plane. He pulled away, rolling his eyes as he pulled out his gun. “I’m not above using this. I don’t care how high we are.”

--------------------

An hour into the flight, things had really taken off. During the small duration of time, many blunts had been rolled, meals had been eaten, and alcohol had been consumed. (Y/n) found herself looking out the window, admiring the way the clouds flew by them seemingly weightless. Her attention was pulled away from the sound of a glass breaking along with a loud thud. Seamus was on the ground, his shirt tied around his shoulders like a cape. 

“I don’t think I can drink another round. You two win.” he said, commending the twins for their effort. They exchanged a look before beginning to cackle.

“We were drinking water the whole time! Do you really think we’d drink 14 shots a piece?! Man, what a moron you are, Finnegan.” Fred said, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. George nodded along, slapping his knee in amusement.

“Right before we have to scope out the place too? Boss isn’t gonna be too happy with you.” he said in a sing-song voice. (Y/n) couldn’t help but feel bad for the boy. She knew what it was like to go and mess things up before something important. Lifting her purse, she began sifting through it carefully, stopping once she found what she had been looking for. Walking over to the boy she handed him a small potion vile.

“Here, drink this. I always give this to Twyla when she shows up black out at my house. It should sober you up in a few minutes.” The boy looked at her like she was a god before drinking the thick liquid.

“God, who knew the boss would get such a useful girlfriend? Thanks (Y/n)! ‘Ppreciate it.” he said, handing her the now empty bottle. Her face began to heat up at his words.

“O-oh I’m not his-”

“(Y/n)! Come here, I wanna show you something.” he said, motioning her over to the chair. She nodded before walking over to him, sitting in the chair. “Okay, ready?” he asked, waiting for her approval. She nodded, sending him a smile. With a press of a button, the chair she was in began vibrating, light pressure being applied to her back. She practically purred at the feeling, closing her eyes.

“What is this?” she asked, words bumping together from the sensation of the chair. He chuckled before sitting beside her, grabbing her hand in his.

“It’s called a massage chair. It’s a muggle invention. Nice innit?” he asked, watching as she purred some more, nodding brainlessly. His eyes traveled over her relaxed expression, tracing all the curves and contour of her face. However, he couldn’t help the tightening of his pants when she began to moan in pleasure at the feeling of the muggle device. If he could barely get through this, how was he supposed to survive an entire mission with her? Especially one where they’d be sleeping in the same bed, every night? 

“Showers, a lot of cold showers.” he muttered to himself. He smiled once he realized she had fallen asleep, deciding to join her in slumber.

PREVIOUS||NEXT

TAGSLIST: @vayeya11 @pink-hufflepuff @clancyscookies @elemental-of-magic @beewitchedlou @simpforremuslupin @mottergirl99 @princesslaiahg​ @nevillelongbottomsgirlfriend​ @redpanda-poetry​ @vibingaesthetically

[perhapsthanatos]

06:01 am with sungchan ♡

nct's sungchan x fem!reader (ok do u guys know that one vine where its in a party & a girl is vaping & a dude says “wow”? yeah, thats where i got my inspo from)

alternate title: after the afterparty

genre: fluff. pinning. non idol au. party!au (is that a thing?).

word count: 1250~

playlist: melodrama (the whole album) by lorde.

warnings: mentions of some of the nct dream members as well as some mentions of the loona members (not really a warning though). this is set before corona was a thing (pls dont do this now). it is set in a house party (with tension). mentions of drugs (weed), alcohol & smoking. mild swearing. making out perhaps? lower case intended.

a/n: this has been on my mind for awhile now & im really excited to put this out there! it also has more tension compared to the other works so yay :)) i also just wanna take a moment to thank the lovely @nct99 for helping me out with this plot & giving some prompts & ideas too?? :(( she is such a sweetheart & pls she is so talented too ugh im so glad we r mutuals & fellow lorde stans :(( give her love rn or else i will eat ur shower curtains (& nae i hope it was worth the wait! i wish i added more references tho lmaoo)

another graceless night and another house party. this time, it was chenle’s birthday. he is a friend of yours, known for having a huge mansion and known for throwing the best parties regardless of the occasion. come to think of it though, it could easily be the 7th one this week and it’s barely wednesday. the evening passes fast as golden rays already start to gently peek through the thin curtains of the tall windows near the living room, as bodies of wasters are sprawled all over the house.

you lean back on the couch further, a curtain of haze taking up your vision as you inhaled another hit of the fresh blunt. even with the sun rising, you still make most of what you can get before everyone (and everything) starts leaving. you never were a party person until your friends dragged you into it. since that day you found it to be a fun way to get rid of your problems and worries (even if it was just for a few hours). partying (as gross as it sounds) became a routine, even becoming its own cycle. you come, you leave and you have everything in between be a complete blur, maybe even staying completely jaded until the daylight returns. some nights it feels good to kiss and keep busy rather than face the constant harsh reality.

you turn your head to see sungchan, the back of his head resting on the top of the couch right next to you. his leather jacket rubbing against your bare arm. his eyes are closed showing off his long lashes and his pink lips are chapped and parted. he looks seraphic in this light.

to be honest, you didn’t know much about sungchan. all you knew was that he’s the new kid who started getting close with jisung barely a month ago. that led jisung to introduce him to the group and him getting welcomed in with open arms by everyone, except you. it’s not that you hate him or have anything against him, if anything he seems like the most charming people out there. you just have trouble opening up to new people especially when you’re already so comfortable with the others (which he could kind of guess already). but since he joined, he was also dragged into the party scene and often played the role as the designated driver and part-time babysitter (a role that he takes seriously along with jeno). it isn’t an uncommon occurrence for him to be seen wrestling the bottle of gin away from hyejoo, strapping in renjun’s seat belt for him, cleaning up yerim’s vomit or carrying an unconscious donghyuck over his shoulder. come to think of it, he fits in just fine. you have often found yourself near him during parties. just kicking back and sitting in a comfortable silence with you drinking and smoking from time to time. he is the one that notices when you’ve had enough and wanted to leave. maybe you’re more alike than you think?

“feeling good?” he asks, smelling the fresh smoke. he turns his head to you and opens one of his eyes.

you only nod and sigh, turning your head back to the ceiling. waves of calmness hit your head, forcing every burden out. you were about to offer him a hit but you remembered that he would only reject it. but you take another for yourself and he can only stare, completely enamored. we watches the smoke escape your lips in slow.

the thing is, he always had some sort of thing for you. a crush? a person he found cool and therefore admired? a person who he found so damn gorgeous all the time? god knows. all he knew was that there was something in you that was so addictive. on the nights where he’d stay sober, he’d watch you sit by his side, quietly drinking up your little movements and habits. even if he hates the taste of alcohol or the smell of gasoline, he loved how your teeth would close around the liquor-wet lime slices that would sit on the side of your cup and how your smoke always finds a way to leave him stained. he would constantly be falling into this fixation of you. you are etched into his mind as the embodiment of perfection even if you have multiple flaws just like he does. his mind constantly lays restless during the most ungodly hours while all of his dreams show you and him in different dimensions. it hurts him to violently like you like this but how can he not resist when the heartache came from you?

“sungchan,” you quietly call out, turning your head back to him, only to see him already staring.

“hm?” he takes one of your hands, in case you wanted to get up and couldn’t walk.

“may i try something?” you ask him, curiously with your hooded eyes barely holding on to consciousness.

“what is it?” he sits up, trying to help.

you gently push him back into the couch and straddle his hips. his eyes slightly widen and his cheeks turn a rosy red.

“ah, y/n, you’re fucking high.” he warns, stroking your hair and leaning further back.

you only giggle. your finger lifts his chin up, making him look directly at you. his shaky eyes are too irresistible.

“tell me when you wanna stop.”

you take the blunt, inhaling deeply. he continues to hold you, admiring the view while he’s at it.

you then gently pulled him closer by the neck (quite slowly incase he wanted to oppose) to leave an open-mouthed kiss on his plum lips to transfer the smoke into his mouth. he does not fight the feeling, how can he when your lips are the softest thing he has ever felt? the smoke began to seep through as he started to move his lips, eliciting a groan from you. is this what euphoria feels like? his grip on your waist tightens as your arms wrap around his neck, prompting him to go further.

sungchan, almost breathless pulls on your bottom lip, bruising them to then pull away to work at your neck, licking and leaving kisses all over. butterflies filled your stomach for the first time in awhile. you never felt this way towards another person in too long. is it love or desperation? you watch the smoke flow away so gracefully around your bodies, despite what just happened. sungchan pulls away and looks at you, his eyes holding the world. you pray that you didn’t frighten him away.

“you do not know how long i’ve been wanting to do that,” he whispers, his forehead against yours. you smile in return, pulling away to place a small kiss on his jaw which clenches from the sudden contact. you rest your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes as his head rests on yours and his cold hands trace patterns against the skin of your back.

“know i think you’re fucking awesome, right?” you hum, making him smile like an idiot.

“hm, no. but i think you should know that i think you’re really fucking awesome, right?” he says holding you tighter and gently swaying from side to side.

“you wanna leave here and get some mcdonalds or something?”

“ooo, what ever happened to the babysitter and designated driver, hm? so what, you plan to leave them here hungover and defenseless?”

“shut up, it’s already dawn. they can take an uber. i just wanna spend time with you right now.”

“alright.”

© perhapsthanatos (efa)

[rudypankwow]

climb through my window (pt. 2) | jj maybank

not my gif! (i think it was posted by ssjiara)

warnings: s l o w b u r n, briefly talks about violence and abuse (bc it’s jj and his dad’s a meanie)

word count: 2.7k

masterlist, pt 1, pt 3

a/n: i know the beginning is also a little slow, but pls stick with me bc after this it’s gonna be so good! jj comes in at the end, and from this point on he’ll be the main focus of every part. but i had to set up the story :) also big thanks to kay bc i complained about this nonstop for the last few days sorry kay ly

Yelling was something you had become well acquainted with in the last year and a half. It was your sister’s fault. She didn’t stick to the plan.

“She was always supposed to go to Yale and she’s still going to Yale!” your mom shouted, her hands practically slamming on the table. “That was always the deal,” she continued, ignoring your sigh and tense jaw, “you got Meg  and I got (y/n).”

You had moved on from the, “Isn’t it my decision?” argument long ago, instead choosing silence as your parents battled it out. When your sister, Meg, had decided to forgo college and instead spend some time traveling (she had secretly saved every penny she received from presents, allowances, paychecks, etc), your parents had moved on to you. Your mother had attended Yale and your dad Dartmouth, and the plan was always that Meg would go to Dartmouth and you’d go to Yale. It was a whole legacy student ordeal. It didn’t matter anyway, because your sister had ruined it. You were only a junior, and the school year was still a week away from starting, this was your reality for the time being.

“Well I think she’d like Dartmouth more, anyway,” your dad said. He didn’t even look up from his plate. “New Hampshire has way more to offer than Connecticut.”

Your mom on the other hand, was red in the face. Her arms were flailing, pointing her fork at you and your dad. “You’ve hardly even been to Connecticut, how in the hell would you know?”

“I just know it is, who goes to Connecticut for fun?” your dad continued. “New Hampshire has way more to-”

“You know what?” you cut them off. They both turn to look at you. Every time they get into these arguments, they wait for your input, for a final “I’m going here,” but it’s not coming today. Instead, you say, “I’m leaving.” You stand up from the table, pushing in your chair, making sure it angrily scrapes against the floor. “Feel free to keep arguing on my behalf, though.”

Your favorite spot in town was a 20 minute bike ride from your house. There was a little hill you could climb up, and when you reached the top it was a beautiful view of the ocean. You sometimes brought a book and read, and other times you just laid down and enjoyed the sun. Either way, that’s where you were going.

You decided to take a different way there this time, it was a little longer but it was so nice out you didn’t mind. As you turned the corner to ride past the police station, you saw the back of a blonde head that looked a lot like JJ walking out with another man. Your heart immediately dropped, too worried about why he was walking out of the police station to be disappointed in yourself for knowing him by the back of his head.

You were still some distance away when they got into the car. Despite no longer being able to see JJ, you kept your eyes on the movement in the car. As you started to get closer, you noticed the movement you could see get more violent, causing the car to shake. You finally become parallel with the car, staying on the opposite side of the road. You were nervous to stop, scared of what you might see, but you knew you had to.

JJ was pressed against the passenger door, his hands covering his face. The man in the car, which you could only assume was his dad, was hovering over him. You could probably hear his yelling if your ears weren’t ringing. You knew what was coming next, and you tried to will it not to happen, tried to focus all the energy into the universe to make what was going to happen not happen.

His hand collided with JJ’s face anyway. Over and over again. And you couldn't look away, couldn’t stop the tears that started to form, couldn’t believe the universe for being so unfair. The police station was right there, it would be so easy to run in and get help, but you were completely frozen in your spot. 

His dad settled back into his seat and you saw JJ touch his face, attempting to clean the cuts but only producing bloody hands. The car engine started, and quickly peeled away, leaving you stuck to the pavement. You stared as they turned at the end of the road and reached up to wipe the few tears that you didn’t realize had fallen.

Once your breathing finally evened out and your heart stopped pounding out of your chest, you pushed your feet off the ground and started pedaling your bike. You had forgotten where you were supposed to be going, instead just seeing where your feet took you.

You hadn’t planned on making your way to the Wreck, but before you knew it that’s what happened. You debated going in for a few minutes. You weren’t sure you wanted to explain what you just saw to Kie, though you were sure she knew. You could just not tell her, but your anxiety was without a doubt written on your face. You probably should tell her, or anyone for that matter. But on the other, was it yours to tell? 

You were still standing over your bike outside the restaurant when the front door opened. “(y/n)?” Kie’s dad called, garbage bag in hand. “Are you okay?” he asks. “Why are you just standing there? Come in!”

It snapped you out of your trance, and you nodded, stepping off the bike and walking it over to the rack. It was way less crowded than the last time you were there, especially for a Saturday. “Oh, hey, (y/n),” Kie says.

“Hey, Kie,” you said. You smile, trying to put on happy face for your friend.

“Are you hungry?” she asks. “I can make you something if you want.”

“No,” you say. You’re pretty sure any food you tried to eat right now would just come straight back up. “I was just passing by,” you continue. “Your dad invited me in and I didn’t want to upset him.”

“Oh,” she says. She stares at you for a second. “Are you okay?” You look down at the counter. “You look like you don’t feel well.”

“Yeah, I just uh-” you try to fake a laugh, “I just have a headache.”

She seems to buy it. “Well let me grab you some water and then you should head home and get some rest,” she says, raising her eyebrows at you. You give her a nod and she takes a few steps behind the counter. She hands you the bottle and takes a sip.

Before your common sense can stop you, you say, “Hey, I saw JJ mowing the Copelands’ lawn the other day and noticed he had some bruises. I don’t know if there’s any reason to worry but,” you pause, unsure of how to finish, “uh, I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to make sure he was okay?” You immediately wish you could suck the words back out of the air and take them back.

But Kie just shrugs, giving a little chuckle. “Honestly, (y/n), who knows? It’s JJ.” You smile and nod, looking back down at the counter. “Look,” she continues, “if it ever seems like he’s in trouble just let me know. But he’s usually got it figured it out.”

“Yeah,” you say quickly. “I’m honestly not even sure why I asked. Something about it just made me nervous, I guess.”

She smiles. “That’s sweet of you, really,” she pats your shoulder. “But I wouldn’t let it worry you too much, okay?”

You nod, suddenly desperate to get out of there. “I’m gonna go,” you say. “Thanks for the water.” It seems awkward, but you’re not sure what else to say.

“Let me know when you’re feeling better,” she calls as the door shuts behind you.

You lean against the side of the building once out of sight, once again trying to calm yourself down. You take a sip of the water and click on your phone to check the time. It had only been an hour since you left home, but it felt like it had been at least five. 

Unsure of what else to do, you get on your bike and start back home, stopping at the library on the way to pick up a book. Halfway through your ride, the sky seemed to open up, big drops of rain soaking you through to the bone.

When you were little, your mom used to say that it only rained when people wanted things to be washed away.

It only seemed fitting.

-------

JJ hadn’t come by to mow that Friday. It was Sunday now, and all you’d done was think about him and what you saw the day before.

School was starting in a week, and despite the fact that you almost liked school, the thought of being forced to see all the other kooks every day was enough to ruin the idea. And since junior year meant college planning, you knew tensions would be high.

Needless to say, you were dreading it.

But today, it was gorgeous outside. So, before your parents could even try to bother you, and before you spent another minute staring at the ceiling in your bedroom, you grabbed your headphones and your book and headed out to your back deck. You had made a deal with your parents long ago that any arguing had to stay in the house, so you knew you were safe outside.

No matter how hard you tried to focus on your book, your mind couldn’t stop wandering. After twenty minutes, you basically give up, dropping your book in your lap with a huff. You close your eyes and lean your head back against your chair, sighing. The sun is as burning you skin, but it’s lnice to feel something other than anxious.

Your heart just about skips a beat when you hear a lawn mower start. Your eyes open immediately and you swallow hard. Sitting up slightly, you turn your head to look at the house next door.

And, of course, there he is, two days late, mowing the lawn. Part of you hoped that you’d be able to avoid seeing him for the rest of the week after what you saw yesterday.

You’re trying your hardest to not stare, you don’t want him to catch you again, but you need to see his face. He’s actually wearing a shirt this time, which is a bad sign. You can’t remember the last time he wore a shirt while mowing in the summertime. You can’t quite see his face yet, so you turn around and pretend to read your book, waiting for the sound of the mower to get closer. When it does, you try to peek over. He’s still a bit too far away, but you think you can see a dark spot on the side of his temple. It makes your stomach turn.

You did have one thought in the back of your mind, but it was borderline crazy, nevermind how it would make you look. You had been mulling it over for the past few days, but always dismissed it immediately. Seeing him here, however, a dark bruise on his face and likely countless others across his chest, made that horrible idea seem not so horrible.

Your feet were moving before you knew it, before you could stop them.. You always felt like there was a magnet drawing you into him, but up until now you’d tried your hardest to act against it. 

“JJ!” you called. Your palms were starting to sweat. In all honesty, you had no idea what you were doing, but for some reason you were still doing it.

He turns around, shutting off the lawn mower when he sees you standing there. “Oh, hi,” he says, thinking for a minute. “(y/n), right? You’re friends with Kie?” You nod. He thinks for another minute and smiles. “You’re that girl I always catch staring at me?” The smirk on his face tells you everything you needed to know. You knew he had noticed a few times, but had no clue he’d picked up on a pattern.

Your eyes go wide and you shake your head. “Uh, no,” you try to be casual, “I don’t think I know what you’re talking about.” He could probably hear your pulse from where he was standing.

“No,” he continues, nodding, “you almost crashed your car into your garage the other day because you were staring at me.” His hands are crossed against his chest and he’s smiling wildly.

“No,” you say say again. “No, I was just,” you can’t come up with anything good, “looking at the Copeland’s dog. It had gotten out,” you finish, knowing the Copeland’s have never had a dog, not for as long as you’d lived next to them.

He clearly knew this too, because he answers, “The Copeland’s doing have a dog, (y/n).”

“Okay, well, that’s beside the point,” you say, shaking your head again and waving your hands. His eyes are wide when you look back up at him, and you sigh, seriously regretting whatever it was you were doing. “Look,” you continue, “I came over here because I wanted to tell you,” you pause, your hands are shaking. You take a deep breath. “I saw you. The other day. Outside the police station. With your dad.” You can’t say the whole thing at once, cause you think the weight of the words might poison all the air around you. “At least I thought it was your dad, anyway,” you say, looking down at your feet.

“Look,” he says, taking a step forward, “please don’t-”

“Wait,” you interrupt, because you think if you don’t finish you might never get out the words, “just let me finish, please?” You look at him and he nods. You exhale, still not believing the words you were about to say. “If you ever need somewhere to crash, for whatever reason, my window is the last one to the left on the back side of the house. It’s easy to climb in. I’ve done it a few times before.” He looks completely thrown off. “I just know how Kie’s dad is, and I know how Mr. Heyward can sometimes be a pain, and after what happened to John B-” you falter. “I just figured you might need somewhere to stay from time to time,” you explain. “I have a couch in my room and I promise not to ask questions.”

There’s a pause. He finally says, “Okay,” and when you look up at him he’s got that same smirk he did before.

“Don’t give me that look,” you say, pointing a finger at him. “You will be sleeping on the couch, believe that.”

His smirk doesn’t dissipate as he nods. “Sure,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “Oh, my god, I’m leaving now.” You turn and start walking away, resting your hand on your chest, trying to calm your heart rate.

“Hey, (y/n)?” he calls after you. Reluctantly, you turn back. He’s got a different look now, less cocky. “You were close with Sarah, right?” He rubs his hand on the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” you say, “we used to be best friends when we were little.” You hadn’t been that close with her in a long time, but you don’t tell him that.

“Do you think they’re,” he drops his hands by his side, sighing, “you know-”

“Dead?” you ask.

He rolls his eyes. “Well, yeah, but I was trying not to say the word.”

You smile a little, brushing some hair out of your face. “No, I don’t,” you say simply.

He nods, looking down at the ground, and gives you a smile. “Last window to the left, right?” he asks. “On the back side of the house?”

You try to stop the smile that’s threatening to engulf your face. “Yeah.”

You turn around, walking back to your deck. You hear the lawn mower start. Your feet feel like they’re no longer touching the ground. You have no idea if he’ll come, and you wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t, but you feel better knowing you’ve offered, that he has the option.

And the thought of getting to see his face more sure doesn’t hurt.

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