#also so sorry that this one was tiny. im not at my best :((

[sweetieviktor]

viktor is in love! (headcanons)

summary: how he acts when he loves someone.

content warning: just fluff!! also, this was written with season 1! viktor in mind!

author notes: life has been hard (exams, school stuff, looking for a job and a lot of other things lol), but now im finally able to write again!! :) and season 2 is just arrrgh so good, so good. also, thank u for the request! i really want to write more about vik (and any other arcane characters), so please keep sending those in!!

» at first, viktor would be pretty oblivious about his feelings for you, always ignoring the little tingling in his heart whenever you talked to him, the smile that appeared on his face every time you laughed or the way he seemed to be draw closer and closer to you, like if you were magnetic.

» whenever you talked to him, he would look at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the whole world, like every word you said was sacred, like you were the most beautiful thing he laid his eyes on. and you could swear it was possible to see hearts on those eyes.

» if you happen to work close to piltover’s academy, he will find himself going out more, looking for you in every corner on the streets. but if you work on the academy, he will go to your workplace quite often to brainstorm or just to talk about some subject he is working on.

» and when you happen to talk about the things you like, be prepared to either face viktor staring at you, completely silent, or to be bombarded with viktor questions, trying to learn more about whatever you're interested in.

» after your meet-ups, he always come back to the lab and talk to jayce about you, about the things you like, how you're amazing and beautiful and understanding and pretty and intelligent and so, so many good things.

» maybe he is in love...

[astranauticus]

the rwd season 4 qna inspired me to start thinking about college au headcanons except a lot of these are gonna be really specific to my school and y'all are just gonna have to deal with that <3

Kyana feeds some of the school cats. she would feed all of them if she could

Dani smuggled Plug (the scrawniest black cat you've ever seen) into her dorm room illegally and somehow management hasn't caught her yet (based on a true story) (Kyana visits to see Plug all the time)

Finbar keeps an updated tier list of every canteen in the school with breakdowns of the best stalls/dishes for each

A senior from the school of engineering once said to me 'all the engineering people dress like rats cuz our classrooms don't have aircon' (context: tropics) anyway that's Dani

Kyana would probably be involved in a lot of freshman orientation events from second year onwards. she just likes talking to the new kids and giving them advice like she would be the kind of orientation group leader who'd get messages from her freshies asking about all kinds of random nonsense because she's made sure they know they can always contact her with questions

VR-LA is The Guy you go to for textbook pirating resources

(this is more of a 'wouldn't that be funny' but VR-LA is just Veerle's discord handle)

Docent is the name of VR-LA's old laptop that broke down so he gave it to Cassimere (computer engineering major he met once at a networking event) to fix except Cassimere got everything off the hard drive and then somehow managed to fuck it up Even More so he had to get a new laptop (and named it Emi)

Roy has gotten food poisoning from his dorm meal plan at least once (based on at least one true story)

The heap trio + Mandy would be those friends constantly playing majong in the dorm lounge and if all the majong tables are taken they just play in one of their dorm rooms on a towel to dampen the tile shuffling noises (it was Mandy's idea)

Every morning Dani goes to the drinks stall at her faculty and orders one iced coffee to the point where the stall owner starts preparing an iced coffee whenever they see her approach (based on my true story)

Roy would be one of those people who goes clubbing every other week and every time he tries to drag the rest of the heap trio and Egan almost always goes and Dani would go if she didn't have a good excuse but always begrudgingly. anyway Roy would always be the only one having a good time until Egan gets drunk enough to start having fun

Finbar actually uses the dorm kitchens instead of just buying canteen food and it always makes the hallways smell really good

Vhas also uses the dorm kitchen sometimes but like. one time i walked into the pantry on my floor and someone had left cut sweet potatoes and 2 eggs in an inch of water in a pan on the stove. that's Vhas

Kyana's constantly applying for overseas exchanges and international summer/winter school programmes. the world is large and she wants to see it!

Maxim's the definition of a hall phantom. you know he lives on your dorm floor because you pass him by in the hallways sometimes and literally nowhere else. sometimes you're not convinced that he actually exists

VR-LA and Maxim's friendship stems from them being from wildly different faculties (VR-LA's in STEM, Maxim's doing anthropology so arts/social sciences) but also having lots of weird interests they cant really bug anyone in their home faculties about

Elyse is in student government and every once in a while Finbar receives a series of angry texts about the newest idiocy she's had to put up with

MR-SN and AS-TR start a stargazing club together. other notable members include AS-TR's girlfriend E-DN, MR-SN's friend C-RA (the one who always volunteers to carry the heavy ass telescopes) and MR-SN's friend K-LB who he pestered into coming to fix one of the wonky scopes even though K-LB's actually in electrical engineering but he's the only engineering person MR-SN (an arts student) knows

oh and of course VR-LA joins because he genuinely just likes space (developing a crush on his club chairperson was not on his bingo card)

Kyana and E-DN were MMA sparring buddies at one point which is how she found out about the stargazing and joined immediately

honestly i can probably think of more but this post is fuckin long LMAO

[andragoras-in-vanity]

i finished veilguard, my life has no meaning, also what yhe FUCK was that post credit scene, im afraid. and i cant wait for the next one tbh. i hope my rook gets to be a lil well remembered hero who stays ready as the veilguard but has decided to protect thedas from demons and twisted spirits using their expertise as a mourn watcher and my likely connection to the fade, ya boy would spend time learning ancient elvhen funeral practices from bellara and how they effect the fade too.

i just want my boy to have some peace with his husband, go on ...safer adventures...cause his heart nearly gave out a few times and itll take a while to put it back together again. hes always going to be looking for harding and honouring her too, i want to think she was the one he went to when he had panic attacks. i think hed be searching spirits and the fade, and hed go visit hardings mom (would probably cry more than she does too especially if she looks like lace). hed have tea with mahanon and visit the griffins, and the caretaker a lot, but when its all over and everything is mosty recovered and he visits vorgoth and myrna he gets a lecture from myrna and a begrudgingly relieved hug, and vorgoth doesnt really say much but takes him aside and pats his head like when he was child and would hide from his lessons because they made him feel dumb.

i love dragon age, i never want the series to end, i need to revisit inquisition again

[warupiposaru]

Something really funny that's occurred to me is the way Joe talks about Maccie is like she's some catastrophic event that happened to their family "I can't believe she's been here that long." / "Everything's been different since she was born" / "Everything changed." / "She changed everything."

And it's just rlly funny to me. I want to up the dramaticness of his words at some point. And anyway, he's talking to the Samurai/Ronin for the first time and I'm wondering the impression he's getting lmao

Joe is certainly expressive to me, but only when he's given the chance. And I think w Ronin, he just started letting a lot of stuff out bc thus guy is gonna go on his way anyways.. but then he's like wait!!! Actually let me go?? For a little? (Platonic yearning so bad)

Ronin like 》^. "I suppose.. Alright, curious karate man, I'll accompany you a little longer."

Or something I'm messing around UGH

[ilyzuko]

no cuz what's up with tumblr now showing me a random p*rn post like every 3 posts on my dash from random blogs nd tags i dont follow weren't they like all about dep*rnifying this site

[ptergwen]

im not sure if you’ll see this😭 but can i have reader being like maddy from euphoria, confident, bad bitch, short skirts and she’s dating peter and they have this secret relationship cuz shes popular and hes not so they both go to a party and makes out in the restroom and comes out together and then flash is making fun of them and then she just kisses peter right in front of everyone (im so srry this is long but i hope u see this

out of sight, on his mind ‎♡‧₊˚

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w/c: ?

warnings: making out, suggestiveness, drinking, like one swear

a/n: oh i looooved this idea thank you very much for your service babes :D also don't forget to join my new taglist y'all i only got a couple of you so far & happy reading!

you down a shooter, gagging at the bitter taste of the alcohol. you giggle and stick the tiny bottle in your bra. you're dancing with a group of your friends. one of them takes your hand, the two of you moving to the beat of the music. peter watches you from across the room with the hint of a smile.

he wouldn't typically spend his friday night in the corner of a packed houseparty nursing a cup of jungle juice, but ned insisted they go. his best friend is determined they both up their social statuses this year. they're not too popular at midtown, with the exception of the academic decathlon team.

if people only knew peter was dating one of the most popular girls in school; you.

it was peter's idea to keep your relationship secret. you'd wanted to show him off, but he's too shy. you're always the center of attention, and peter parker doesn't do well with attention. he'd much rather admire you with everyone else in public and be yours in private.

"come on, peter! it's a party! shouldn't we be, like, dancing or something?"

"i don't know, ned. just... drink your juice."

ned takes a generous swig of his drink and cringes. peter chuckles, sipping from his cup.

"what's in jungle juice anyway?"

"um, everything i think. you might blackout if you have too much."

"dude, that's the goal."

you catch peter's eye again. you're holding your friend's arm that's wrapped around your shoulders, hips swaying. you shout along to the music with the rest of the girls in your group. you look so carefree, and so damn good.

the pink, strapless dress you're wearing is hugging your body in all the right places. your hair is styled to perfection, tiny gems dotted along your eyelids. your look is complete with a pair of knee high boots. peter loves your style. there's no way to describe it other than that it's you, who peter adores an insane amount. he wishes he could be as bold as you are.

peter's phone vibrates in his pocket; it's a text from you.

are u watching me?

before he even answers, you send another.

come to the bathroom

peter briefly locks eyes with you. you give him a mischievous smile before slipping away, making some excuse to your friends. he bites his lip to suppress his own grin.

"hey, ned? how about i go get us some refills?"

"bet! i’m gonna dance."

ned hands peter his cup and claps him on the shoulder, disappearing into the crowd. instead of refilling their drinks, peter makes his way to the bathroom. there's a few people waiting in line. knowing you, you've already claimed it from them. he knocks at the door. a hand reaches out and grabs at peter's flannel, pulling him inside.

"hi, baby."

your glossy lips capture peter's in a kiss. he instantly leans into it, but you pull back much to his dismay. his big brown eyes go even bigger.

"woah... hi."

you laugh softly.

"miss me?"

"seems like you missed me too."

"maybe."

you run a hand through peter's hair. his hands settle on your hips.

"sorry for watching you, couldn't help it. you look so pretty tonight."

"i always look pretty."

your tone is playful, but peter knows you mean it, and he couldn't agree more.

"whatcha been up to? you having fun?"

your manicured nails scratch lightly at peter's scalp. he practically purrs at the feeling.

"mm, just been hanging with ned. i don't really know anybody else."

"you know me."

"but you're with your friends."

"so?"

"so... you know i’m shy, princess."

you giggle.

"it's just 'cause you're not drunk enough, baby."

"oh yeah?"

peter's thumbs run up and down your sides, face only inches from yours. you retrieve the shooter from your bra. there's still at least half a shot left.

"open."

peter does as you say and opens his mouth. you take his chin between your fingers and tilt his head back, pouring the rest of the strong, sweet liquid down his throat. he swallows. you toss the bottle aside. peter gives you a look, one that says kiss me. you shake your head, smirking.

you want him to kiss you.

peter's lips smash into yours. his eagerness makes you giggle into the kiss. you grip the collar of his shirt in both hands, lips moving slowly against each other's. peter backs you against the door.

"did i already tell you how pretty you look?"

"mhm, but not enough."

"you're right. you're so pretty."

peter kisses down your neck, breathing in the scent of your perfume. you guide his lips back up to yours.

"you are too, y'know."

you peck peter's lips softly, letting your lips linger over his after, eyes searching his. they twinkle. you mesmerize him, truly mesmerize him. you kiss an awe-struck peter properly this time. he holds your waist, head tilted to deepen the kiss.

your make out session is rudely interrupted by someone knocking on the door.

"yeah, one second!" you answer. "let's get out of here."

peter groans and buries his face in your neck.

"but i don't want to. wanna keep kissing you."

"not here, baby."

"why not?"

he leaves more kisses on your neck. you coax peter away, laughing, his arms still wrapped tight around you.

"the line. wanna find somewhere else?"

peter perks up at that.

"okay, let's go."

you lead peter out of the bathroom. he follows, hand in yours. even though no one seems to pay any mind to the fact that you were in the bathroom together, peter can't help but blush. he doesn't make it out unscathed, though; none other than flash thompson notices him.

"penis parker, is that you?"

you stop walking, eyeing flash over your shoulder. peter lets out an exasperated sigh.

"what's up, flash?"

"you are."

peter looks down to see an obvious bulge in his jeans. his cheeks burn hotter, hand leaving yours to readjust himself. a few people turn around to look.

"y/n's a big step up from your imaginary girlfriend. where'd you say she was from again, canada?"

you narrow your eyes at flash, a hand wrapping around peter's bicep.

"do you know him?"

"yeah, we're... friends. sort of. we do academic decathlon together."

your gaze shifts to peter.

"friends?"

"oh yeah, we go way back. any friend of parker's is a friend of mine."

flash smirks at you. you look him up and down, face scrunched in disgust.

"ew."

more people are starting to watch the exchange. you glare at flash, who holds your gaze knowingly. peter can tell you're about to go into protective girlfriend mode. he squeezes your hand that's on his arm.

"anyways, just wanted to congratulate you on your first baddie," flash tells him. "try not to fumble."

before peter can process what's happening, your lips are on his, hands cupping his cheeks to keep him in place. maybe it's just because he's tipsy, but peter actually finds himself having the courage to kiss you back in front of everyone. you smile at this. he holds you by your waist, letting himself enjoy the kiss for a while longer.

peter's lips are puffy and covered in your gloss when you two pull apart. he draws you in closer to himself, giving you one more short kiss, then another. the two of you earn whistles and chatter from everyone watching. you giggle, thumbs caressing peter's cheeks and gaze meeting his.

there's something in his eyes that you haven't seen before; confidence. he might be shy, but not when it comes to you. not anymore.

you look over at flash smugly, his mouth dropped open.

"he won't."

tags (join my new taglist!)

@spidermans-gf @sacharinee

[tbaluver]

hellooo!! i absolutely love your fluffy family imagines/hcs so so much! say, do you have a reaction idea on LADS men when their child cries because of them? like they unintentionally hurt their babies feelings or unknowingly broke their promise (cuz they were busy/forgot) or absolutely anything that comes to your lovely genius mind aaa :'3

thank you and hope you have an amazing daaaay!! (⁠灬⁠º⁠‿⁠º⁠灬⁠)⁠♡

Making Their Child Cry- The Love And DeepSpace Men

in order: xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus genre: fluff fluff + imagine a/n: hihi anonnie! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ thank you so much angel im happy to hear that! <3 this was such a cute idea i had soo much fun writing these and i had many scenarios for each one! i got most of my ideas thanks to @ilovemitsuya mwah ( •̯́ ₃ •̯̀) rafayel's part was also inspired by a mother and daughter from tiktok! <3 i lovee writing them as dads bc i just know they would make great dads and husbands! i hope you enjoy reading and i hope you also have an amazing day luv (∩˃o˂∩)♡

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

“what?”

“santa isn’t real,” xavier says softly, not fully grasping the weight of the words he’s just dropped onto his son. xavier never saw the appeal of santa. the idea of someone sneaking into your house, leaving gifts, eating your cookies, and disappearing without a trace never sat well with him. but now, as he watches his son’s world crumble in front of him, he realizes how wrong it was to voice his opinions out loud, especially to his baby that still believes magic is real.

“b-but yes he is!” his son’s voice trembles, his lip quivering as tears begin to glisten in his eyes.

xavier’s heart sinks, his baby boy’s holiday magic is about to shatter and he didn’t realize that it would hurt this much to him. he reaches out but his son backs away, a tiny sob escapes his lips and runs away from xavier.

“momma! papa says santa isn’t real!” the words come out in sobs as your son clings desperately to your legs, his face wet with tears.

you gasp, your heart breaking hearing your baby boy cry as you scoop him into your arms. xavier watches, looking at you for a silent plea for help as you cradle your son close.

“hon it’s okay,” you murmur as you rock your baby boy gently. “santa’s real...it’s just that...well, your papa ate all of santa’s cookies last christmas and it made santa a little upset so right now, santa and papa aren’t exactly getting along. but i’m sure they’ll fix it.” you eye xavier, signaling him.

your son sniffles and wipes his nose with his sleeve, his little face scrunches, “h-he made santa upset! papa you have to fix it!”

xavier reaches out and wipes the last few stray tears from his son’s cheek, “alright, i’ll fix it. i promise.”

later that night

your son is fast asleep in his bed, his small frame curled up under the covers until tiny trails of sparkling light begin to swirl around his room. they twinkle like stars, softly glowing in his room.

your son stirs, his eyelids fluttering open, still heavy with sleep. he rubs his eyes as he tries to focus on the situation unfolding in front of him. at the foot of his bed, standing in a warm glow of light, is a santa and elf puppet.

“ho ho ho! hello there sweet child!” the santa puppet's voice exclaims but really it’s just xavier, hiding beside his small bed frame as he projects his voice through the puppet’s mouth. “i’m sorry i cannot be there in person right now,” the puppet- or xavier continues, “but i sent my best elf to deliver this as a message to you! your father and i have talked, and we have made up!” the elf puppet nods and claps enthusiastically.

your son’s eyes widen with joy, “really?! yay!!” hearing his son’s excitement and happiness makes his heart full and he wishes he can see the joy in his son’s face.

“you should sleep now,” the santa puppet says softly, “i’ll be seeing you again on christmas night. goodnight, little one!”

your son grins, wishing a goodbye to the santa puppet as he pulls the covers up to his chin and snuggles back into the warmth of his bed. but the excitement that was building up in his chest refuses to let him sleep fully. his eyes flutter once more and catches a glimpse of the twinkling lights and a trail of sparkling dust as the puppets disappear from his sight.

xavier peeks into his soon’s room, “is everything alright?” he whispers, stepping inside. his son sits up, wide-eyed with a grin plastered on his face.

“daddad! santa just spoke to me!” his voice filled with excitement and joy, making xavier smile.

he crouches down beside him, playing along as if he wasn’t there a few seconds ago. “really? i just spoke to him too.”

your son’s giggles and xavier can’t help but join in and laugh with him, “you guys are best friends now!”

“of course,” xavier says softly, “anything to make you happy. i’m sorry i upset you earlier.”

your son wraps his arms around his neck in a hug, “it’s okay dad. you never would upset me. i love you.”

xavier’s smile softens, returning the embrace. “i love you too, my little star,” he whispers, a small glow of dust still glowing in the room.

Zayne:

“we’re losing her!”

the panic in the room was almost tangible.

“don’t worry. it’s going to be okay,” dr. zayne replied calmly, even though he could feel the distress radiating through the room. his eyes remained focused on the patient in front of him.

earlier

“okay daddy ready?” his daughter’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she bounced up and down, clutching her beloved snow bear plushie. the little bear was dressed up as elsa from frozen and it was her most loved and cherished plushie she’s ever gotten.

zayne’s lips curled up into a smile from how cute his daughter was as he gives her a nod. he clears his throat before beginning. “let it go....let it goooo.” he sang flatly as tiny snowflakes and snowdrops danced in the air, falling gently on top of them. 

she gasped in delight as she watched the magic unfold before her eyes. to her it was way better than anything from the movie, it felt like real magic. she squealed with laughter, spinning in a circle until something unexpected happened.

an ice crystal drops into her plushie’s belly, forming a small tear on its soft stomach and its stuffing begins to fall out.

to zayne it was a minor mishap, just a small rip. but to his baby girl, it was an absolute catastrophe. her face twisted in shock and before zayne could even react, she screamed in horror, clutching her bear to her chest like she truly lost someone in a war.

“daddy!” she cries out, her tiny hands desperately trying to protect the bear as the stuffing slowly poured out. little did she know she was actually making it worse as she kept moving it around. “y-you monster!” her voice trembled.

hearing that made zayne’s heart sank but he swallowed his own disappointment and quickly scooped her into his arms. “i’m sorry, my little snowflake,” he says softly, rubbing her back as she hiccups with sobs. “it was an accident. we can fix her okay?”

she pulls away slightly, rubbing stray tears that fell from her eyes, “we can?”

zayne gives her a reassuring nod and a small smile, “i promise. she just needs a little surgery and she’ll be all better.” he brushes the hair from her face, helping her wipe away any tears with his thumb. “you must stay strong for her okay?”

he gently sets the plushie on the table in front of them, its belly exposed with cotton. “i’m going to get everything we need but i need you to stay and look out for her.” she nods seriously, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

zayne leaves the room momentarily and returns with a small pair of scissors, needle, and a thread. he kneels beside the table as his daughter stood nearby, watching anxiously.

the operation has begun.

zayne carefully snips away the thread, feeling the weight of his daughter’s gaze. a few clumps of stuffing accidentally falls out and she gasps, her eyes widening in panic.

“we’re losing her!” she cries, hiding behind zayne’s arms for comfort.

“don’t worry. it’s going to be okay,” dr. zayne replied calmly, even though he could feel the distress radiating through the room. his eyes remained focused on the patient in front of him. he continued to stitch, pulling the fabric of the bear back together, until the rip looked like it was never there. with one final knot, it was finished.

“there,” he gently smoothes her plushie’s fur, “all better now.”

her eyes widened, holding the bear closer to her chest. she squeezes it tightly, smiling widely. “thank you, you're the best!” she squeals, his heart lifting at the sight of her happiness.

she bites her lip and looks up at him, her voice small. “i-i’m sorry for calling you a monster papa,” she whispers.

zayne’s heart melted and scooped her up into a big hug, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of her small head. “it's alright my little snowflake. i know you didn’t mean it.”

she hugs him back tightly, her small frame nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “i love you daddy.”

“i love you too, dear. now let’s go get some deserving macaroons after our shift.”

Rafayel:

his son had always wanted to be just like rafayel. he’d watch with wide eyes as rafayel creates something beautiful in his studio. the way the artwork has come to life the moment he starts to paint or draw has always fascinated him.

as soon as his son announced that he had drawn something for him, rafayel couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride.

“alright, show me what you’ve got my little glub glub!” rafayel grins, his heart was racing with excitement to see what his son had created.

but the moment his son had turned his sketchbook around, he froze. a chuckle escapes before he could stifle it. the drawing was rafayel’s face and it was....certainly unique. many would call it abstract. the proportions were comedically off and the colors were, well, not quite what rafayel expected.

“wow! this is....nice!” rafayel says, forcing the words out with a grin while desperately fighting back the laugh that was threatening to escape.

“raf....” you whispered, pinching his arm as a warning, your eyes narrowing with concern. you could tell rafayel was trying to hold back the sarcasm and you feared that their son might pick up on it.

“ouch!” he winces dramatically but it didn’t stop his amusement from creeping in. “i mean seriously, where did you learn to do this? and is this....pigmentation? where were you all these years?!” he lets out a small laugh, digging himself deeper into the joke.

unfortunately, his son was not laughing. his son pulls the sketchbook away and hugs it tightly to his chest, hiding the drawing.

“nono!” rafayel scrambles to fix it, “i promise my little glub glub, it’s sooo good!” but his words could not mask the laughter still lingering in his throat.

a pout forms on his son’s lip, arms crossed, just like what his father would do. “then why are you and mommy laughing?” his voice trembled, tears threatening to spill in his eyes.

rafayel froze, guilt washing over him once he saw tears streaming down his cheeks. “glub glub, mommy doesn’t know anything about art!” he tries to explain, his tone trying to remain gentle as he tries to cover your face with a pillow. 

he pulls his baby boy into his arms, “hey hey i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to make you upset. your art is nice. i think you’ve got talent. i love it. i really do.”

your son didn’t respond for a few seconds but he relaxed a little later in rafayel’s arms. “you promise?”

rafayel nods, his lips curling into a smile as he presses a gentle kiss to the top of his baby son’s head., “i promise my little glub glub. now let’s frame your masterpiece on the fridge!”

your son squeals in joy, bouncing on the couch with excitement but you intervene with a teasing smile. “how about we let daddy display your masterpiece in his pieces as well?” you give rafayel a mischievous grin, watching as his eyes narrow at you

“that’s even better!” he says, trying not to drop his playful sarcasm. “see my little glub? i love you so so much that i’ll even put your beautiful artwork in mine.” he throws in a playful wink as he lifts his son into his arms for a tight hug.

Sylus:

your little girl had waited for sylus for hours. he had promised her playtime as much as she wants before bed. but now, now it was almost too late. she clutched her favorite crow plushie as if it was a stress ball. she sat in front of the window, glaring at the headlights of his vehicle that flashed by.

when the door finally swung open, it wasn’t the usual welcoming scene of you and your daughter running up to him and greeting him. instead it was just you greeting him, your lips met his in a soft and tender kiss and his baby girl, well, she glared at him with all the fury and intimidation she could muster.

“sweetie?” his eyebrows furrowed as he knelt down to meet her height but she only puffed out her cheeks further, gripping her poor crow plushie.

“you lied!” she points at him accusingly, “you promised playtime!” she whined, her voice going higher, a sign that she was this close bursting into tears.

he sighed deeply, “i’m sorry, sweetie. i didn’t-”

before he could finish his sentence, the crow plushie was thrown at his face that made him pause mid sentence.  he let out a long exhale, brushing it off. she was already upset and he did break her promise.

“i didn’t mean to break our promise my little dove,” he continues, “but i;m here now, okay? i’m here.” he extends his large hands to wipe any stray tears that were already forming in her eyes.

his heart shatters when he sees her bottom lip quivering as she sniffles in protest and when he sees tears starting to form and spill. he cooed softly, his large hands tenderly brushing the tears from her cheeks. “it’s okay sweetie. here. i have something to make it up to you.”

suddenly the door swings open and luke and kieran trots in, both dramatically holding up a mountain of her favorite dolls and toys. “little hunter!” they exclaimed in unison, striking a pose.

her eyes widened, noticing those were her favorite toys. the toys she had been dreaming and wanting for a while. “are those for me?” she gasped, her eyes sparkled with excitement.

sylus smiles, picking her up gently as she squeals in delight. her pout disappearing into a cute grin. “of course,” he replies, his voice much more playful and softer as he boops her tiny nose. “we can play as much as you want now.”

her little arms wrapped around his neck, not reaching all the way due to her tiny frame and his much larger frame. “thank you so much! i love you daddy!”

sylus chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “i love you too sweetie.”

you couldn’t help but watch in awe at the scene, “what do you say sweetie?”

she paused, her face scrunching up as her head drooped down. “i-i’m sorry for throwing my plushie at you,” she whispered, her cheeks rosy with embarrassment.

sylus lets out a small laugh, shaking his head. “it’s alright sweetie. let’s not let it happen again. we can always work things out differently okay?”

she nods, listening intently.

“now, let’s all play, yes?” he raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

the excitement in her eyes was truly adorable as she bounced in his arms, her little legs kicking with pure joy. “yes yes! let’s go!” she squealed, clapping her hands together in excitement.

luke and kieran had already made their way to her playroom and sylus held her close, guiding you to the room as well, his hand resting comfortably on your lower back.

[militaryapple]

YOU AIN'T MY BOYFRIEND!

synopsis. your best friend wont speak to you and her best-brother-friend is becoming an issue, so to clear your head you go to a party! that should help, right? part 1

cw. fem!reader, face fucking, cunnilingus, oral (receving & giving), p in v pls stay protected babes, fingering like a mofo, i miss u caleb come home

add ons. lwk not my best work sorry guys im getting out of a rlly bad slump ilya thanks 4 being so patient better fics coming soon and putting up w my stuff haha lul. also hi me back

wc. 2.9k

one week.

it’s been one week since you last saw your best friend — since you’ve last talked to her.. and rightfully so! you mean, she did kinda find you and her childhood friend-brother fucking inside your shared dorm. after that, she’s been purposely ignoring you and hiding away from you.

she was doing a real good job at it too, when you woke up; she was gone. classes? she was almost 30 feet away from you! your classes ended? she was no where to be found. you weren’t upset at her, you understood, you just really missed your best friend. you two started college together and you didn’t want to leave alone.

while the real issue was prominent in your life now. caleb wouldn’t leave you alone after that day. so what if he confessed how much he liked you and used your best friend to cover up that crush because everyone had thought they would be the perfect match to the point that if he stood next to you for too long it’d be seen as weird? you never said you liked him back! okay well you did say you loved him but — you two just fucked! it was supposed to be like a casual-fling thing!

well, that’s what you thought. okay, so what if you liked him a tiny bit? you’ve known him for like ever! he was a sweet guy and all but he was distracting you from the real issue - getting your best friend back. and having him all over you every day of the week wasn’t helping you.

you curled up in caleb’s bed, staring at your phone. he settled beside you and put down a cup of tea on the table in front of the bed. “i’m telling you,” he huffed out “staring at your phone won’t make her magically text you back. she’ll be okay, she’s going to get over it.” caleb picked his cup up and took a sip out of you. god how you wanted to punch his handsome face.

you had a love-hate relationship with him at the moment. okay, he wasn’t helping the problem but he was helping you! and that counted as something.. right? like, emotionally and physically he was helpful. you two just didn’t have a label, it’s just.. casual! yes! very very very casual.

“i know,” you whined “i just.. she won’t even look my way! this is all your faulttttt..” you sob. caleb put down his cup and scrolled on his phone, using his free hand to rub your back while you buried your head in your legs. “yeah yeah blame it all on caleb.” he rolled his eyes comforting you. caleb’s eyes lit up and he looked at you.

“you know what you need?” he said shaking your arm gently, “a party. a good little night-to-forget-everything outing!” he beamed happily. you looked up at him pouting and kicking him away. “what’s the point?” you groan and turned around, picking at the white wall now in front of you. “i don’t have my best friend, no one to go with, my life is basically as good as dead.” you mumble.

caleb rolled his eyes and grabbed your shoulders, bringing your back to his legs. “did you forget that you have yours truly? mr cool, sexy, and awesome? future pilot?” he raised an eyebrow pointing to himself.

“well mr cool, sexy and annoying got me in this predicament!” you retaliated rolling off the bed and grabbing the tea that was made for you, taking a sip. it was good, but it was caleb’s making so that wasn’t new. he got up and put his shoes on, making his way to his door pushing you alongside with him. “and mr annoying is telling you that what you need is a day to yourself. come one, i’ll help you pick out something and we’ll go together. by the end of tonight you’ll be worried-free. trust me.” he hummed in delight.

well, it was a good offer. you did have essays and projects due tonight but again, you would stress yourself out more — plus knowing caleb, it was either going out with him or having him help you study with a possible chance of a hangover at your 8 AM class due to your own self loathing. either way, you were getting fucked up one way or another. you reluctantly accept your defeat and agree to his plan. “fine.” you scowl, “but at least make sure i don’t look crazy tonight.”

when you both got back to your dorm, it was empty. she wasn’t here, she was probably with her boyfriend rafayel. it wasn’t shocking, it’s where she’s been staying every other night when she can, obviously you weren’t snitching since.. you practically owe her. you brush away the thoughts about your best friend and start heading to your closet digging deep for something, anything to wear.

“too bright”, “too much”, “where are you going? to a ball?” every outfit met with some sort of tantalizing line from caleb. you flopped on your bed defeated. if caleb was going to be this picky with your outfits you weren’t going to go, maybe self pity drinking was a good idea after all, just skip your first class and make up the work when you’re not hungover.

caleb was in your closet, picking and throwing things around. “if you really hate my closet, then i’m not going.” you groan, digging your head into your pillow. that was until caleb popped up with a dress in his hand. “found it!”

you changed in your room after kicking him out. it was already 7:00, and the party started at 9 — of course caleb had a couple of things to do before going. you walked out, twirling while he stared in approval. “absolutely stunning.” he mumbled, his gaze wrapping around your body.

he couldn’t take his eyes off you, the way the dress draped down your body but held so snugly to your curves. how the color complimented your already glowing skin, and nicely done hair. maybe it was how you spun, so lightly; like you were floating on air. jesus, was he so in love with you.

but again, no labels.

you scurried to get your shoes and purse, walking out your dorm with caleb and making your way to his car. he had drinks in the back with a couple of other things, making stops along the way to the house. you could catch him glancing at you from time to time and all you could do was just shift to your side.

caleb was fucking sexy. he knew this — you knew this. you just, were conflicted. him or your best friend! well.. ex best friend? it was all confusing. he was never into you, never all that interested in your life or how you were anyways. it was just.. new? random? you looked back at him, looking over his body then back to the road. maybe that’s where the issue lies, maybe he’s your issue.

“i can feel your eyes ‘yknow. sending chills down my spine.” he glanced over at you, eyes quickly going back to the road. “what’s on your mind?” he asked, slowing down the car to give you both enough time to talk about whatever.

“it’s fine, just keep driving.” you brushed him off, and he frowned, looking back at you and nudging your arm with his. caleb looked back at the road and started to drive normally again like you asked but he started to get persistent. “come on, talk to me. you can’t just look at me and go ‘i’m not thinking of anything!’ when you so obviously were.”

he got you there.

you huffed and looked out your window, your gaze fixed on the passing trees and grass. “it’s just,” your hands start to fiddle around “you seem to be so.. interested in me now. it’s weird. you weren’t like this before and i don’t know —” you were starting to stammer but caleb cut you off quickly.

“are you ‘doubtin my love? i told you, i’ve loved you ever since i met you. it was hard getting close to you and.. look, you aren’t some second option to me, alright?” he seemed worried, he sounded worried, yet you didn’t want to look at him. you were too afraid to anyways. were your feelings always this confusing?

the ride to the party was silent, you both getting out. caleb grabbed onto you staring at your outfit, then looking at your pretty face. “call, text or find me when you wanna leave okay? don’t do anything stupid, i’ll keep an eye on you.” he held your face and placed a kiss on your forehead.

no label. just really close friends.

the party was loud, the lights flashed every which way. you made your way past people and found yourself at the kitchen and poured yourself a drink, if you were alone you might as well drink, right? you poured yourself a cup of whatever you grabbed first. eyeing down people at the party.

it wasn’t long until you spotted her. your best friend. she was with rafayel. her boyfriend who was your ex boyfriend, did you forget that part? fuck you really didn’t want to run into them both. not like this — you wanted to talk to her but not in a place where you could be publicly shamed, god you felt embarrassed.

you moved towards the next room, finishing your drink in one swift gulp. you found some other friends of yours and started to talk and dance with them, joking and laughing. you don’t know when but the topic of relationships had been brought up and you sighed. “well,” your friend chirped, “why don’t you just do a one night stand? that guy over there” you turned your head and spotted the guy your friend talked about. he was tall, lean and cute. wasn’t anything special, right?

you made your way over, and started talking to him. you flirted and giggled, batting your eyes occasionally.

you were having a nice time until caleb noticed. he made his way over to you and pulled you away from the guy. you couldn’t make out what he was saying to him, maybe it was the music or the excessive amount of alcohol you had. “caleb its fine, really. i started to talk to him” you groan, pushing him away.

caleb looked down at you, he felt hurt somewhat.

just friends. no labels.

fuck that.

caleb grabbed your arm and brought you upstairs, bringing you into an empty room and locking it. the music diluted while he sets you down. he placed his hands on his head before letting out a long sigh. you couldn’t help but frown and stand up, wobbling a bit before catching yourself. “what if your problem?” you snarled at him “you’re acting like i’m your fucking girlfriend. there was nothing wrong with me talking to him” you groaned.

“i don’t understand” caleb bit back, “you told me you love me, and now you’re saying that me returning the feelings is weird? and now you’re talking to other guys? you aren’t my girlfriend but, i thought,” he started to stammer. he moved closer to you, holding you while you looked back up at him.

you looked away. you were confused about how you felt, about everything! fuck, you didn’t know what to do. you did like him, you didn’t want to lose your best friend which you might aswell give up on. caleb cupped your face with his hand, “hey, im sorry. i didn’t mean to-” you kissed him before he could finish. your mouth clashing on to his.

fuck it, if she wanted to play dirty you could play dirty. your best friend didn’t own caleb, let alone anything of the sort. she should’ve been happy! she could’ve had the best sister-in-law a girl could ever had.

caleb didn’t object. his hands wandered from your face to your hips, pulling you closer to him. he couldn’t help but let out a small moan before settling down on the nearby bed. you stood between his legs, looking down on him while he looked up at you. his hands fixed on yours hips.

“let me show you how much i love you, please baby.” he placed a kiss on your arm, his eyes big and glossy. fuck, he was so pretty like this, you agreed and pushed him up on the bed, moving on top of him.

you moved to the top of his face, settling down. he grabbed your thighs and pulled your entire weight down on his face. “let me make you feel good baby,” he coo’d using a hand to push your panties to the side.

caleb licked your folds, his hands finding their way to your already wet cunt, rubbing circles around your nub while his mouth placed nasty kisses around your slit.

your hands gripped on his hair while your hips rocked to the motion of his mouth and fingers. his kisses soon turned into nasty wet sucks. his fingers finding their way inside your sobbing cunt, pushing in and out. the feeling only making you quiver and beg on top of him.

“i know baby,” he coo’d “making you feel real good.” sucking on your nub, and planting his nth kiss on your sloppy entrance. he could eat you forever. you were sweet, delicious. caleb’s free hand made its way up your dress, grabbing on your breast while you cried and rutted against his face.

“caleb please make me cum, ��cmon make me cum,” you begged. his mouth picking up speed as he kissed and stretched you. feeling your hips buck up he slid his digits out, watching your cunt cry in pleasure. you got up, and caleb followed. he sat up at the edge of the bed while you got down in between his legs.

you moved your hands down to his pants, undoing them and tugging his waistband down. god was he big. his tip was swollen, practically begging for you.

you saw the pre-cum that leaked from his slit and you couldn’t help but give it kisses. caleb groaned, his hands wrapping around your hair. “fuck baby, yeah that’s it, you got it pretty girl.”

you looked up at him, swirling your tongue around his tip. you used your free hand to pump him, moaning into his cock.

you relaxed your jaw, you were finally starting to feel okay — and caleb took that as a sign. he held on your head and slammed into your mouth. his hips violating your pretty little mouth. his hands wiping away the tears that formed around your eyes.

he rammed into your mouth, letting out apologies and stifled cries. “you’re so fucking pretty” he sobbed, “you’re all i think about, fuck, when i get off.” the mere thought of him palming himself making your eyes roll back.

his cock tightened, and his hips started to stutter. moving your hand up and pumping him. he fucked into your mouth stupidly, holding your mouth down for a moment while his hips stopped.

he let you go and you moved back, gasping for air and moaning. “come here,” he pulled you up and sat you on his lap. you could feel his cock twitch between your neglected cunt, it only made you whine. “caleb,” you sobbed, “please, don’t tease me, please,”

how could he say no? you asked so nicely.

he picked you up and positioning himself with your entrance then sliding his cock into you. fuck, you felt filled. he stretched you out so nicely, you moan at the feeling, holding on to his arm while you squirm and buck your hips up.

caleb thrusted into you, holding your hips down while his cock hit your cunt in all different angles. “i fucking love you,” he bit down on your neck, sucking it and marking you. “i love you - i love you i love you,” was all you could mutter. your hips bucking against the friction.

he didn’t let you go, he couldn’t. his tip kissed your cervix, making you dig your nails into his back. caleb moved his hands to your sensitive cunt, rubbing circles around your nub while thrusting into you, picking up the pace.

caleb brought his free arm around you, flipping you down on the bed and rolling his hips making you practically cry. your head dug into the pillow while caleb leaned down to place small kisses along your back.

his thrusts becoming fast and his pace becoming wrecked. he hit your sweet spot deeper at this angle, “you’re so pretty, i can’t help it oh my god you’re so gorgeous.” he grabbed your hands holding them behind your back.

you clenched around his cock, begging as you lifted up your head. your body started to shake and your back arched at the feeling. “caleb ‘m gonna - oh fuck please please baby please,” you sobbed out for him.

“gonna cum? come on sweet girl, you can do it. cum for me,” he rutted against you. his body snapping into yours. you felt like you were in another world hearing him say that. you twitched as his thrusts began to slow down.

you tensed around his cock, shaking as his hips spurted. he looked at you, admiring the mess he made before finding his breath.

no labels your ass. you were going to have to figure out what to do tomorrow — what to say! oh fuck it. you were going to skip class tomorrow and stay bed ridden, it wasn’t like you were going to be able to get up anytime soon anyways. caleb was quick to fix himself up, then tend to you.

yeah. you were definitely going to have to figure out what to do tomorrow. especially with him.

[jiminrings]

four seven eight, phase 3 (1)

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 9k

glimpse: jungkook's secure when it comes to being a husband and a dad, knowing that he grew to love being both after everything you've been through. what he isn't so secure about is the possibility that it's everything he'll ever be.

alternatively, jungkook pursues his dream of making a film, even if it means making your rival his main lead behind your back.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale — complete series masterlist, from phase 1 to 3 ]

[ the return of 478jk (derogatory), major angst, fluff, the weight of devotion except jk's mean this time, flashbacks to phase 1 (im so sorry), the both of them r in an identity crisis, The Return of yoongi, yearning and the ache of unfulfillment all over, eventual redemption ]

notes: FINALLYYYYYY after a long wait, phase three is finally here :-) the og era of 478 is a time i'll truly never forget so now that i'm putting them in Several Inconveniences again, i look forward to creating another era with u citizens!!! mwah thank u love yew

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook likes to be needed.

He likes to be needed fully, sometimes even all at once to the point that every mention of his name makes him think that his assistance is needed. He wants to be needed like the way you rummage through your old film canisters that you dumped in a large drawer just to retrieve a specific picture of him; needed like the way you sigh in relief when you find said roll.

Jungkook wants you to seek him in a crowd, past all the banners of your name from your fans and lanyards of your staff, and ask specifically him for a cold water bottle he keeps in his bag for you. As a matter of fact, he wouldn’t even mind if you ask it from him indiscreetly — he wants to be needed, even if neither of you are alone with each other.

He’s used to the feeling of being needed because it’s practically routine for him. The way Jungkook loves you has changed and evolved (needlessly to say for the better) through the years, and although he tries to look for the balance in it all, there’s a tiny, tiny part of him that wonders what would’ve happened if neither of you changed.

It’s perhaps the change in seasons, or maybe it’s the build-up of the stupid little things Jungkook’s seen recently; one of those things happen to be a ridiculously long thread by your fan, who happens to also be a fan of Yoongi, assuming that your marriage with J*ngkook (that’s exactly how they typed his name out) is ending, hence your recent collaboration on a brand deal. Jungkook, of course, has half the mind to go on his secret stan account and snark at said poster before reporting, but even then, there’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch.

Whatever weather it is outside nowadays or whichever stupid little thing pisses him off online, Jungkook can’t shake off the nagging question of what if in his mind.

When Jungkook cleans your water bottle every night for you to take to set the next day, he wonders if the two of you would still be together if only he didn’t rush to your place by the exact second your month-long break ended, right when he takes off the rubber from the cap to clean the ridges thoroughly.

When he blowdries your hair (even if you tell him not to bother) after you begrudgingly take a shower because you can’t sleep in bed after going outside and not washing up the second you come home, he wonders if you would’ve kept loving him even if the very incident with Sora didn’t push him to change, right when he sees you close your eyes while his hands scratch your scalp.

When Jungkook sounds out syllables to Hwayoung and tries his very best not to baby-talk her (he can’t help it sometimes) as he recounts his day to the toddler, he wonders if you would’ve even had a daughter with him if he stayed the same silent lover that he used to be, right when she parrots your name back to him with a smile.

“Young-ie’s probably starting to need me less and less,” he sighs to you with a pout, eyebrows knitted in concern as he gives you his rookie version of a blowout he’s still trying to perfect. Jungkook can’t flick his wrist the way professional hairstylists do, just in the same way you can’t pick up why he’s brought up the thought out of nowhere.

“How could you say that? She’s the biggest daddy’s girl ever,” you chuckle, placating him with the truth despite your initial confusion. If you weren’t fully awake awhile ago, you certainly are now — mostly because Jungkook springs up an unbelievable idea, and partly because whenever he tugs the brush at your hair, your whole head comes along with it.

“Not really. More like biggest mommy’s girl, you mean,” he defensively scoffs, apologizing quickly when he hears you wince at a particular experimental tug he does on your ends.

“Should we wake her up right now and let her decide?” you murmur, your eyes locking with his on the mirror.

Jungkook, at his most comfortable state, wearing ratty oversized pajamas and glasses on his face that he’s yet to update the prescription on, has never felt more competitive in his life.

“Well we could-…”

“I was joking,” you deadpan, the silence between the two of you getting long enough to the point that you suddenly find yourself laughing, effectively getting Jungkook out of his daze.

“… I knew that.”

You may have had an inkling about Jungkook feeling slightly off before in the past weeks, but all it took was his random, unprompted question tonight for you to solidify that seed of concern in your chest.

Jungkook likes to be needed, even if he can’t say the same that you need him as much as he thinks you do. He thinks it’s a perfectly rational feeling to want to be needed by both your wife and your daughter, and although he’s not as receptive to being needed as much by anyone other than his family, the feeling still stays the same.

He has all the time in the world. You’ve enabled him to do so even if he’s the one mainly looking after Hwayoung while you worked, but despite that, Jungkook doesn’t feel needed enough.

There’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch with neither your constant affection nor Hwayoung’s grabby hands. There’s an unplaceable, agitating urge in Jungkook’s chest to put a pause on everything and be back to who and what he used to be, despite your affirmation that he is needed.

There’s that tick going on in Jungkook’s brain that amplifies everything he does to seem wrong; that makes him grumpy when he wakes up to prepare you breakfast whenever you had early shoots, that makes him purse his lips when his daughter asks him to watch the same movie with her for the third time in the week.

All of the uneasiness in him, however, disappears when Namjoon, the acclaimed screenwriter that he has for a friend (whom he actually met through you), calls him up with an offer that Jungkook can’t refuse.

It’s an offer that releases the ache from his bones, makes him want to blowdry your hair better, and watch the same movie over and over again with his daughter — but Jungkook postpones saying it to you when you come home and want nothing more than to be in his arms, and for Hwayoung to be in yours.

( ♡ )

Jungkook could wait more.

He convinces himself that he can because although there’s a date set for the short film that Namjoon’s pitched for him to produce, it hasn’t grown yet to become the unstoppable force against Jungkook’s immovable object: family.

He knows he needs to tell you eventually and that he���s not really asking for permission in the first place, but there’s a sense of guilt in him whenever the thought of breaking the news to you comes into mind. He’s not nervous per se because he knows you’re as supportive of him, if not more, like he is with you.

It just happens that it’s within the fine details that Jungkook truly feels hesitant to tell you that he has to leave for awhile.

Jungkook could wait more, and although that means he has to deal with the occasional voice in his head telling him that lying to you (even under the guise of protecting you) has the capacity to bite back at him, he manages. He swallows down the words whenever you unintentionally give him an opening to tell you about the news of him going abroad, and just settles for holding your hand.

He could wait more because telling you now wouldn’t be the right time, now when you’re on your day-off as you’re close to wrapping up your current project before moving to the bigger, more exhausting one; not now when you have a time of reprieve to spend with your family before taking on the biggest project of your career to date.

Jungkook hums to himself as he looks down on Hwayoung who has a tiny shopping cart to herself, her strikingly round eyes that she got from him (Hwayoung looks more like him the older she gets) looking up to his own.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he lulls, mumbling loudly enough for only her to hear. “You’d understand if appa left for awhile, right?”

“Left?” she questions, holding up her left hand at the mention yet she reels at his query, brows furrowing as she seems to digest the question. “Why?”

“Yup. That’s your left. Good job, baby,” Jungkook praises, the knot in his throat growing when he looks to his daughter who looks confused at the sudden query, again, that came out of nowhere. “You would, won’t you?”

Hwayoung hums because she doesn’t quite understand, but that’s the thing that Jungkook fears most — she’s young and smart and although he wants to use those facts to his advantage, he realizes that Hwayoung being the age that she is in now could also prove him to be dispensable.

Jungkook likes being needed, but he’s much too afraid of the possibility that Hwayoung won’t even recall him as soon as he leaves.

Your husband’s snapped out of his reverie when you go downstairs with a skip in your step, the tell-tale mischievous tone to your voice already predicting that Hwayoung would make the two of you chase after her in the backyard all day. “What are the two of you plotting again?” you ask playfully, hands on your hips as Jungkook chuckles at the sight of his two girls.

“Nothing!” Hwayoung giggles, the word slipping out of her seamlessly as she even shakes her hands fervently, accustomed to what you mean exactly with your tone of voice. She’s young and bright and you see so much of Jungkook in her, even if Jungkook would argue otherwise.

Jungkook’s dazed this morning with the way his gaze locks in from far away, his bottom lip bit between his teeth more often than not as if he’s always at war with himself.

“You okay, Kook?”

“Mhmm. Couldn’t be better,” he hums half-heartedly, his lips grazing your temple as he guides you to sit down on the carpet with him. “You finally slept for more than eight hours. That’s good,” he says as an afterthought, the pauses in between his words growing in distance as his gaze is fixated on everything but you.

Jungkook looks at your daughter who’s now pushing Miso around the house in her shopping cart, and while your cat (who’s always seemed to hate your husband) looks more than pleased at being played with, she meows to Jungkook and only at him with a hiss at the end of her spiel as if in warning — as if Jungkook is guilty of something that only the two of them know about.

Almost as if out of everyone in the room, it’s only your cat who knows that Jungkook’s lying.

Jungkook can wait, but he’s certain that he can’t wait any longer because if his brain is unoccupied for long enough, he’ll start to hear Miso cursing at him through her yowls.

“Hwayoung doesn’t look like she needs you any less,” you say gently, your line of sight following Jungkook’s as he tenses at your words.

“Oh,” he sighs, jaw grinding down to a halt. “Right."

Your words seemingly came out of nowhere, even if the both of you know deep down that they’re influenced by his impulsive thoughts from last week.

“You can say the same for me,” you add, not as an afterthought, but as a lesser-known fact that Jungkook seems to forget every now and then.

There’s a weight in his chest because all of a sudden, Jungkook can’t wait anymore. The itch in his mind has already been scratched too much that it had already bled and scabbed.

There’s a weight in his chest that reminds him he can’t wait anymore, because in hindsight, the weight of him and everything that comes with him settles on his shoulders.

Maybe, Jungkook doesn’t want to be needed as much.

( ♡ )

Jungkook drops the news on you while you’re folding laundry.

He was meant to go for sincere but the way the words leave him, right when you’re in the middle of folding Hwayoung’s pajamas that she’s about to overgrow in the soonest, it sounds as if he’s been dying to tell you; now that he has, he sounds beyond relieved.

“Namjoon offered me a script,” he announces, taking the pajamas from you to put in his pile as he sees your eyes widen, the remnants of the heavy mascara they used on you on set awhile ago highlighting your surprise. “He wants me to produce.”

“What?” you punctuate, tilting your head as you try to make sense of what Jungkook’s saying. You know he’s speaking and you’re familiar with said words; you just never expected for them to be compacted in the same sentence, meaning the way that he makes it out to be. “Kim Namjoon, as in the producer for In Terms of Eternity?”

He chirps at that, posture straightening as he tries to jog your memory. “Yeah. You’ve worked with him before and introduced us, then turns out Jin’s also a friend of his and-…"

“I mean I know Namjoon and that you’re friends with him, Jungkook,” you interrupt, trying to reel yourself in as you’ve lost your focus trying to fold Hwayoung’s clothes and talk to your husband at the same time. “But I didn’t know you were that close for him to ask you to produce something for him.”

Jungkook doesn’t completely crash from the high he’s in over finally telling you the news, but there’s that spike that flashes briefly over his face, the frown on his lips letting on more than he shows.

“What’s that supposed to mean?"

You sigh at the impossible position the both of you are in, the words that try to line themselves up in your temple being no match to the way they translate out-loud. “It means nothing. I’m just… surprised that he’d ask you to be a producer for his script, that’s all. It came out of nowhere.”

Jungkook recoils at that, a stubborn brow raised as he tries to keep his composure. “Because you don’t think I’m capable of being a producer?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you inhale sharply, gripping a random article of Hwayoung’s clothing beside you to pace yourself. “Namjoon’s.. big. He’s established, and well, you’ve never become a producer before.”

“And you have?” Jungkook digs, even if it’s unnecessary to do so, and the way his face falls at the forthcoming regret that creeps up to him lets you know that he thinks so too.

“Jungkook,” you try again, quirking your lips to the side as you try to manage with the pace he’s set you up on. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. This is all new to me. All new to you, even. If anything, it’s nice that Namjoon trusts you a lot.

“He does. We’re close,” he nods, clearing his throat as he feels that the both of you could move on to the other phase of the news you had interrupted him at. “As a matter of fact, we’re taking it on a global scale.”

Jungkook doesn’t get why your face falls.

He doesn’t get why your shoulders rise and fall, not in relief, but out of controlled tension that threatens to pour over.

“What?”

“The script. The film,” he smiles, trying to get you to finish his sentence and connect the dots together but to no avail. “It’s… it’s — we have to film in the US for a few months.”

“What?” you repeat, the knot in your throat tangling up more and more hesitance in you the longer it stays there.

“I said, we have to-…”

“No, I heard what you said,” you interrupt, jaw clenching tightly as you try to grasp everything Jungkook has said.

You don’t get why Jungkook’s smiling.

You don’t get why he’s completely at ease and only in confusion as he sees you piece everything out.

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Kook, all of this is new. Everything you’ve just said is and will be new,” you chuckle humorlessly, running your hand through your hair in frustration as you try to relax. “I’m happy for you, believe me, but Jungkook, what you’re saying is serious. It’s a lot to take in,” you pause, eyes wide as you repeat the words to yourself. “You. Producing. In the US, of all places, a-and for months.”

There’s not one exact emotion that runs through you because the longer that Jungkook looks at you, ecstatic, while you’re weighing what he’s just said like a bag of bricks — you feel even more conflicted.

Your husband wrings his hands together, nervously smiling at you as if he’s asking for permission, but the both of you know that his mind’s already set. He thinks the opportunity of producing a short film that’s been drafted by his friend is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, eager to take off even if he’s had no experience at all in the industry.

“I don’t know, baby. It’s just been so long since I got this excited and alive, y’know? It’s a nice change of pace and I get to do something nice-…”

“Isn’t being with your daughter nice?” you ask abruptly, unable to mask the conflict that’s been brewing in your mind ever since Jungkook pulled you aside to talk. You feel hesitant; disconnected even from wrapping your head around his wording.

Even convincing yourself that you’re just spent from working sunrise to sundown doesn’t work. No matter how hard you try, Jungkook’s tone remains as is.

“Y/N,” he sighs, lips in a tight line as he screws his eyes shut. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything, Jungkook,” you grit, crossing your arms in defense. You feel guarded more than ever, not because you’re the one whom he’s pertaining to, but because your Hwayoung is involved and you won’t sit around for it. “It’s just that when you put it like that, it sounds like taking care of Hwayoung is a chore.”

You used to be sure awhile ago that you were seeing double because in between memorizing scripts and going from schedule to schedule without any time to rest in between, you’ve been worried sick because Jungkook hadn’t texted you the whole day. You were shocked enough to come home to your daughter playing by herself downstairs (with Miso watching her the whole time), even more-so when you saw Jungkook engrossed in a highly-enthusiastic phone call.

Jungkook sighs as if talking to you completely exhausts him, pinching his nosebridge before muttering under his breath. “Like you’re one to talk.”

“Excuse me?” you blink in surprise, tilting your head in sheer confusion. You’re about to shrug it off but he does that thing again, the one where he almost rolls his eyes at you but realizes it at the last minute.

“Nothing.”

“Say that again, Jungkook.”

“My god,” Jungkook groans, throwing his head back. He runs his hands through his hair frustratedly, sucking in a rushed breath. He looks straight at you when he gives his grievance. “I’m just saying! Why do you get to live out your dream but I don’t?”

“This is my job,” you bite back instantly, the second it took for you to digest his words being enough time for him to groan again. “If it were up to me, do you think I’d work six days a week? Do you not know how much it kills me to stay away from my family?”

You’re at a loss for words, the tiny bit of insecurity you have being dug up once again. You feel guilty because you actually don’t — you know to yourself that you still dedicate so much of yourself to Jungkook and Hwayoung even if you work full-time.

Jungkook chokes up a laugh in front of your face.

“Then quit your dream if you’re so miserable.”

Your jaw clenches quickly in annoyance, unable to retain the disbelief that builds up in your chest. “My dream is my job! It’s why we’re living this life in the first place, Jungkook! Your dream is this project that was pitched to you like what, two weeks ago?”

“Can I not live my life the way that I want to?” he asks exaggeratedly, eyes wide in defense. “Why am I only your husband and why am I only Hwayoung’s dad? Why can’t I go to the US a-and try things out? Why can’t I be free from all this even for just a while?”

Your mouth falls apart at that, your moment of shock simultaneously being Jungkook’s instance for guilty. He wants to reel it in right then and there, but the small part of his pride grows to hold him back.

“Do we hold you back that much?” you whisper, the headache that has been building in your head since this morning shrinking to the size of Jungkook’s words. “What are you getting so angry for? I’m not saying no. I’m asking you why you’re so hellbent on suddenly leaving to do this.”

A large part of you, if not all, feels more disappointed than angry. Hwayoung has not and should never be an afterthought for the both of you yet Jungkook brings her up with you like mere variables.

You can grasp the fact that being a parent is a full-time job like yours yet what you can’t get a hold of is your husband’s apprehension; his sudden need of pursuing something beyond your family.

“Because I’m scared, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers, exhaling heavily. “I’m scared that this is all what life could ever be for me.”

It’s only when you’re completely silent that he comes back to the severity of his words, the tension that’s been building up in him breaking the moment that you break eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry for being your wife.”

“Baby, that’s not-…” Jungkook tries to correct himself, hot on your heels as you get up from your seat on the couch. You’re not even speeding up yet he catches you just as urgently, the hold he has on your arm doing little to put you at ease.

“And I’m sorry for making you a dad.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m-…”

“You should do this project if you really want to,” you quip, back still turned to him as you enter the bedroom. Jungkook noticeably stops in his tracks, the furrow in his brows fading because you’ve put him on whiplash.

“What?”

“You’ve held down the fort while I was out being the breadwinner. It’ll be nice for you to do your own thing,” you smile tightly, eager to sleep on the whole thing just so you don’t stay hung-up for too long.

“What about Hwayoung? What about your film? They want it to be an entry for the Academy, right?” he asks in concern, different from the worry he had awhile ago when he thought you were against him leaving.

You nod, easily shrugging despite the weight on your shoulders. “I’m her mom, of course. She’s gonna come first. And for the film, I think I can still do it. I’ll juggle them both if I have to.”

Jungkook nods, eyes set on the floor. He didn’t think this far at all.

“Do you want to hire a nanny? I know a friend.”

“I’ll pass. I don’t trust nannies.”

There’s an overwhelming silence that engulfs the both of you, the white noise machine in your nightstand unable to fill it completely. Jungkook looks at the ceiling while you look at Hwayoung who’s sprawled in the middle of your bed, clutching Miso like a teddy bear — she already fell asleep waiting for the both of you.

“I didn’t mean what I said awhile ago, I’m sorry. It came out the wrong way,” Jungkook apologizes after some time, hand darting out to hold yours while you only hover above your vanity, taking off all of your jewelry except for your wedding ring.

“When do you leave?” you ask, still unable to meet his gaze.

“Next week,” he clears his throat. “When do you start filming?”

You nod, coming into terms that Jungkook would leave no matter what you say. “Next week.”

You’re arranging the covers when your husband tries to hold you again, voice strained and rushed. “Y/N, I really am sorry. I love being your-…”

“Shh,” you interrupt, pursing your lips. “Hwayoung’s sleeping.”

( ♡ )

You asked for a day off.

You’ve rarely ever asked for them throughout your entire career because you were built on the mindset that at the end of the day, you’re also an employee no matter what gig you land. Be it the cameos you used to book with Yoongi or the titular characters you take from studio after studio, you’re still the employee who had worked her way up fairly.

You didn’t ask for it during that instance when you fell sick after back-to-back shoots because you didn’t want to waste anyone’s time. You didn’t ask for it when you woke up with the type of fatigue that settled in your body no matter how hard you closed your eyes or laid your head against the cushions.

You’ve never asked for it for your sake, but you’ve asked for a day off now because Jungkook’s leaving for a place you can’t come and go to as you wish.

Unlike your house or the hotels you book for him and Hwayoung to be at whenever you have to film out of town, Jungkook’s out of reach. He’s one call away, granted that your timezones match up and there’s a connection strong enough for it to continue without a hitch. He’s far from your grasp and he will be for months on end, and you don’t think you can ever stomach working on the same day he’s leaving.

“Are you seeing me off at the airport?” he asks during the car ride, voice audible enough for only you to hear and not Hwayoung who’s sprawled across both of your laps, sleeping soundly with her plushie that resembled Miso.

“I will, but I don’t think I can see you off near the gate. I can only manage up to here,” you answer honestly, willing yourself not to break down even if the both of you are still in the car, away from any prying eyes of the media that lurks outside. “So can Hwayoung,” you add, a large part of you being grateful that she’s asleep when Jungkook has to leave so neither of you would hear her cries.

Jungkook sees that hesitance in you, the same kind that softens him into fragments.

“It’ll only be for awhile, okay? Just for a few months,” he smiles tightly, rearranging his backpack next to him, the keyring that held Hwayoung’s second-favorite toy (not the ultimate favorite because she won’t ever let him take it) clattering loudly. “I love you,” Jungkook murmurs. “Do you know that?”

“Mhmm.”

“Say it back.”

You refuse to do so because saying it back feels finite, perhaps even forced, because although you love Jungkook, saying so at the moment only weighs you down as reality sinks in. “This is gonna be easy for us, right?"

“It’s not like we’ve never been in a similar set-up before,” he shrugs, the pout on his face casual as he tries to level with you.

“But this is different, Jungkook. This is beyond different. We have Hwayoung and now, we’re both working,” you stammer, chest rising and falling as you wrap your head around everything. “This— this isn’t Seoul to Jeonju. This isn’t a leave by day, come back by night type of trip. This is-…”

“You’re freaking out,” Jungkook interjects, his soft yet stern voice cutting through your thoughts as he lays a hand on your thigh, the platinum of his wedding band looking right up at you.

You surrender in defeat, not because you’re fighting with your husband, but because there’s simply no other answer he could ever conjure for you as to why this is happening.

“Why aren’t you? Why am I the only one scared?” you whisper.

“You’re not supposed to be.”

“Of course. It’s not like you— we put everything on the line,” you clear your throat, looking down on your shoes as you convince yourself. You ignore how you’re still not entirely aware of what’s with Jungkook’s project, other than the fact that Namjoon’s the screenwriter, all in favor of giving you a semblance of sanity before Jungkook leaves you and Hwayoung. “Right?”

( ♡ )

You wonder if Jungkook already ate breakfast.

You wonder if he ate the supposedly excellent in-flight meal that comes with first-class tickets, or if he ate the ramen he’s always had a penchant for eating especially during your trips, whether by land, sea, or air. You wonder if he’s grumpy with the altitude and the way he has to pop his ears ever so often, along with the way he always seems to be too long for airplane seats turned into beds.

You call but Jungkook doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll never not purchase in-flight wifi because he’d rather knock himself out than have to read a book or something of the sort. You message, but then again, your husband doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll much rather reply via text than to record a voice note because he’s shy with people hearing him in public spaces, albeit closed.

Hwayoung waits patiently beside you, swinging her legs back and forth on the couch as Miso stays up with her. She should’ve been in bed half an hour ago but you let her stay up with you, all in the pursuit of getting Jungkook to respond.

“Appa?” she asks again after a minute of you trying for her dad but through another app, her pout reminding you of Jungkook’s who’s unreachable.

You try not to frown in front of her, leveling yourself as you settle for kissing her forehead to cover up the sigh that originates deep from your chest.

“Not yet, Young-ie.”

.

.

.

There’s no text from Jungkook when you wake, but there is a picture of him in the buffet of the private lounge he’s staying at during his layover.

Atleast Jungkook did eat breakfast and Hwayoung was able to sleep without him (the first of what you dread is many), nevermind the dull thrum in your chest in Jungkook’s absence.

( ♡ )

Hwayoung's been behaved the whole time you were on set.

With Jimin prioritizing his voluntary role of being a babysitter to your daughter over his position of being a manager to you, you became instantly comforted at the reassurance that you're not in this situation alone.

It's only been a week since you started working right after Jungkook left, his absence rearranging every system you've previously had in place. You do your very best to have Hwayoung still thriving, and even just the reminder that you are succeeding at being the only present parent for the meantime melts all of your fatigue away.

Your trailer's more equipped for her than it is for you, the space apparently reminding Hwayoung of home so much that it's enough to make her remind you that Miso should go join the both of you sometime. Your dressing room's always been hers, and so has been the affection of everyone close to you.

“I take my role of godfather very seriously.”

Yoongi explains even if you haven't asked him anything. In fact, you weren't talking to begin with. It's not in his nature to talk for the sake of talking (that's Jungkook's), but even with Hwayoung in his arms and you still being lost in your thoughts, he can't help but to feel concerned.

“I can tell," you snicker, finally taking notice of the sight in front of you. The earpiece that was previously on Yoongi is now slung over Hwayoung's shoulder, obviously too big on her. She wanted it as an accessory (it reminds her of the toy stethoscope she'd put on Miso as a collar) and with Yoongi being himself, he can't bring himself to say no.

Your shooting day's nearly over and although today wasn't as long as your previous record of hours on end, you already seem exhausted. Yoongi, of all people, knows what scenes wear you out. You hated doing monologues as a rookie and still despise monologues (but with random, out-of-place advertisements in between) as a veteran — you’ve done neither today.

"What's with the frown?" he asks gently, not only because Hwayoung’s been quiet for the past two minutes and she’s getting groggy, but also because if he were to ask you any louder, he feels as if you’d break.

"It's nothing," you answer automatically, looking at Hwayoung to ground yourself. "Just usual family things, I guess."

"Trouble in paradise?" Yoongi asks with a chuckle, abruptly stopping his fit of amusement when he gets goosebumps starting from the tail of his spine. He instantly recognizes it as deja vu. "I've asked you this before, haven't I?"

The realization doesn’t hit you until he points it out.

"Mhmm," you hum absent-mindedly, playing with the hem of your dress. “I don't think the problem now is anything like how it was before, though."

One night several years ago, you and Yoongi were sat side-by-side in the booth of a club, the heartbreak you had over what Jungkook’s done (and haven’t, at the time) being the wedge between you.

Now, Yoongi’s standing in front of you while you’re sat down, your daughter with Jungkook in his arms.

“Me neither. I don't know how you and Jungkook can encounter any problem worse than last time, to be honest," he chuckles, shaking his head at the recollection of the hell you’ve been through. "Also, I think I can say that because I literally don't know what's going on with you. But if you do tell me-!"

"You're so nosy,” you snort, the brief moment of playfulness welcome because your head aches the longer that you dwell over your worries.

"I can be the judge to see if what you're going through now is worse than before," Yoongi shrugs to fake nonchalance, unaware that you’re gasping in awe until you kick him lightly in the shin.

Hwayoung’s asleep in his arms.

"She's never did that with anyone before," you murmur, fishing for your phone to take a picture, but not before quickly skimming to see if Jungkook’s sent you any messages; he hasn’t. “She only either sleeps in mine or Jungkook's arms. Not for my parents, not for my in-laws. Just me and him."

Yoongi smiles proudly, stroking Hwayoung’s hair proudly. "What can I say? I'm godfather of the year."

He only sways her gently back and forth, rocking her with the patience and attention that remind you of Jungkook’s when Hwayoung was a newborn.

You’re calm and quiet to see her adjusting so well already, but you can’t help but to feel lost because you feel the exact opposite. No one’s gonna stroke your hair for you and tell you to take your time — those are Jungkook’s tasks alone, yet your grievances are also because of him.

"Jungkook's producing this short film in the US. It's by his friend," you mutter under your breath after some time in silence. Yoongi flicks his eyes up at you as if you’re talking about the weather, careful not to make you feel more conflicted than you already are. “You know… by Namjoon.”

"Since when was he into that?" he asks out of curiosity, eyebrows furrowed because he didn’t know that your opening line would ever transition to this point in the conversation. Yoongi catches a second wind the longer he processes your words, the scoff that leaves his lips making his bangs loose despite the hairspray on them. “Since when did Jungkook and Namjoon belong in the same sentence?”

"I don't know either.”

"So we're both producers now?" he snickers, the teasing already coming natural. "Nepo husband alert."

You roll your eyes in recognition, clearing your throat as soon as the laughter died between the two of you. “We got into this argument and I don't know, I-I realized I was being selfish for a moment because I didn't want him to go at first, you know?" you admit in full sincerity, exhaling the lump that forms in your throat. “He said he was afraid that this is everything he'll be. My husband, Hwayoung's dad. So on and so forth."

Yoongi only listens this time, giving the occasional hum there to remind you that he’s still there.

"And last night, he, uh, he forgot to call," you gulp, already feeling the weight of your worries settle in your stomach. "The call wasn't even for me. It's for Hwayoung because he promised he'll still read her whatever she wants."

The three of you cherish that time together because normally, it happens as soon as you get home from work. Hwayoung’s long graduated from storybooks and has now branched out to the most ridiculous texts that Jungkook indulges her with nonetheless — from the ingredient list at the back of milk cartons, and all the way to Reddit threads of how cats find their way back home to owners.

"He's been secretive about the whole thing and I-I… I do that too with my projects, I get it. But only at first because I'm literally bound to an NDA," you stammer, pinching your nosebridge to get past the frustration. “I’m just-…!" you give up, admitting the truth. "I did some snooping."

"And?" Yoongi prompts, tilting his head in anticipation.

"I think he's been secretive because the main lead's Eunsu."

Yoongi recoils at that, so much so that it almost wakes up Hwayoung.

"Eunsu? As in Park Eunsu?" he repeats, the scowl on his face getting deeper the more that you stay indifferent. “Eunsu as in your nemesis?"

You relent, the mention of her finally hitting close.

"Nemesis sounds a little childish."

Yoongi scoffs immediately, rolling his eyes at your correction. “I mean yeah, because people keep pitting her against you when she doesn't even come close," he shrugs easily, make you tut in warning. "What? I'm just saying what everybody's been thinking."

To know that you can still confide in Yoongi no matter what comforts you — what doesn’t is that this time around, your gut feeling’s stronger than it had been the last time.

"I hope I'm wrong."

"I hope so too," he exhales, shaking his head in disbelief. "What kind of asshole sleeps with his wife's enemy?"

"Don't put that out there,” you grumble, the unintentional yet weird arrangement of words making you dizzy.

"Sorry. It's a metaphor, dummy," Yoongi surrenders, clearing his throat. "Okay. Retake. What kind of husband produces a film featuring his wife's rival?

"Hopefully not mine."

( ♡ )

It takes little effort to love you.

Loving you specifically doesn’t have to be hard.

Jungkook thinks that loving you isn’t hard when you serve as the peace to his otherwise hectic and turbulent mind. You manifest into the comfort he looks for in all seasons, be it the heat pack you wordlessly put in his coat pocket or the scrunchie you put around his wrist no matter the weather whenever his hair got too long.

You don’t text him at every hour of the day whether you were working or not, but you’ve made it a point to always check up on him multiple times even if the both of you are at home, going as far to randomly waking up in the night to pause your breathing and check up on his with a hand on his chest.

It’s easy love — one that could be grasped by everyone because as the world has proved to him time and time again, you’re easy to fall with and for.

You may not coo and awe at every single thing he utters, but the adoration behind your eyes always makes him warm from the inside because you held onto him, no matter how anticlimactic his stories could be.

Neither you and Jungkook are easy, that much he knows.

He knows it because although it’s never been his intention to come home late during his allotted short break between filming (it’s disguised as a break even if he only came back to take care of work-related matters personally), you make it known that you’re irked with him for every other reason.

He knows that you aren’t easy because for the past three weeks he’s been gone, you’ve reiterated twice in the last hour alone how you’ve asked him again and again who will star in his short film. You’ve asked Jungkook repeatedly to give you details outside of Namjoon and the vaguest bits he could ever give you, establishing the fact that he isn’t even bound to an NDA.

It’s the persisting barrage of questions in your head that bothers you without a single break. It’s the hovering feeling of doom above your head because having no answers to any of them, on top of Jungkook closing himself off with or without the physical distance between the two of you and being Hwayoung’s sole caregiver, that your patience ultimately thins.

Your annoyance towards your husband is clearly obvious and it bothers him to the point of frustration. Jungkook’s been convinced since last week that if he just dodged your questions for long enough and blamed it on the connection of your call, he wouldn’t have to answer to you; he wouldn’t have to explain the fine details of the project he’s kept from you.

If he had only avoided you for long enough, you would’ve forgotten about the rumors surrounding Namjoon’s upcoming screenplay that had been leaked to the press, and the roster of actresses thought out to be the main lead of his short film.

If he had only ignored your pleas for long enough, he would have never succumbed to the preliminary guilt that comes with lying to you under the impression that he’s only being protective, pushing him to drink until his vision spins — enough for him that when he admits the truth to you, your face of heartbreak directed at him isn’t as anguishing.

“Fine, fuck it! Since you’re so nosy, yes. Eunsu is my main lead, there! She’s my muse!” Jungkook just about yells, breathless from the burn of alcohol in his throat that spreads all the way to his chest, and from the back and forth he’s been going at with you for the last hour.

“Why didn’t you tell me in the first place?!” you retort, fists clenching at your sides as the thought of Jungkook with Eunsu, with her of all actresses, in a foreign place at almost every minute of the workday irking you.

“Would it have made a difference? You’d still be angry at me,” he rolls his eyes, placing a hand on his hip as he tries to stabilize his gaze on you.

“And even then, you wouldn’t do anything about it, right? Because that’s just your nature, Jungkook,” you scoff, your dig at him being incredibly low yet you steel your pride, unwilling to back down at the thought that Jungkook’s been lying to you for three weeks– perhaps even longer.

He presses a tongue to his cheek as you pertain to the past loud and clear, the sarcastic nod he gives you making your breathing tremble.

“Why? Why does it have to be her?” you try again, this time with your jaw clenched so your anger won’t flare up because you’ve been dying to have a decent explanation from Jungkook for weeks.

“Why can’t it be her?” he counters. “B-because she’s what, she’s your rival or something? You’re jealous? Bitter?”

The knot in your chest tightens, the recall you have of the woman who had sabotaged you repeatedly when you were still a rookie putting a metallic taste on your tongue. She’s hindered you in ways that not even Yoongi could explain fully despite being the closest friend to you in the industry, the vitriol you’ve had for Eunsu in the past reviving back to life.

You have no words except for the fact that begs to be acknowledged without a single syllable.

“I’m your wife, Jungkook,” you exhale shakily, the gravity of it seemingly not enough for him because he refuses to use it as a reason to get on your side.

“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think everybody knows that by now?” Jungkook spits. “When I’m producing my film with Eunsu, I don’t want to be your husband, Y/N! I’m sick of it,” he seethes. “Eunsu has nothing to do with me. Why should I fight your battles for you? Why do I have to carry your grudges for something that doesn’t even concern me?”

Jungkook’s the drunkest he’s ever been in his life, yet he utters the clearest words you’ve ever heard him say.

“This is showbiz, Y/N. It’s inevitable for you to get caught up with shit.”

“You’re talking as if being my husband and being Hwayoung’s dad is a chore.”

“Because maybe it is!” Jungkook bursts with a cry, the tears that spring out of his eyes momentarily blinding him. “Because maybe, I’m fed up trying to be sickeningly devoted to you all the time.”

There’s something akin to white, hot, searing pain that spreads across your chest all the way to your temple, the tremble of your lips not enough for Jungkook to realize that you’re on the verge of sobbing.

“Sometimes I hate this. I… I-I hate this life I’m living because of you, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers. “I hate how you’re so, so perfect in juggling everything. I hate how I could spend an hour just convincing Hwayoung to eat a single carrot and you come in the room, and she finishes the bowl with a smile on her face. I-I hate how you never complain whenever you need to do late night feedings after a long day because I’m already snoring. I hate how with or without work, you’re still just—…” he stills, looking at you with a distraught gaze. “You’re still so content. You’re still able to be yourself like you’ve always been.”

There’s no words left in you; no thought at all that could ever pick you up from the ground and gather yourself the way you’ve always had whenever you and Jungkook had felt the furthest from each other.

“Jungkook,” you sniffle, even if he waves you off half-heartedly. “I’m sorry if-…”

“There it is. There it fucking is again!” Jungkook whines, foot agitatedly stomping against the floor as he pulls at his hair. “You’re apologizing for being so perfect in life that it’s making me feel bad!”

“But I’m not! I’m far from it, what the hell are you talking about?” you rasp, the sarcastic laugh that goes past your lips making his ears ring. “I’m sorry if it seems that way but I’m telling you myself that everything is not perfect the way you make it out to be. I’m sorry because it makes you feel bad, but if anything-…”

Jungkook raises a finger at you, his jaw tightening the longer he stews in displacement.

“Don’t. Don’t. Don’t tell me how content you are with everything despite being exhausted, or how you juggling everything is worth it. Don’t tell me how good of a dad I am."

“Then what can I say to make it lighter for you, Jungkook? What can I say that won’t make you resent me?” you grit in surrender, chest falling so lowly, you’ve forgotten to breathe for a long second. “Do you hate the life that we’re living now so much that you can’t even look at me?”

Love isn’t always a matter of ease and although it’s always stuck to you, you prove now that Jungkook coming home to you at this instance, in this light, that he makes love the most difficult thing.

“Do you hate the life that I gave you so badly?”

“I don’t,” he answers, mouth dry as his vision spins. “Sometimes. Tonight, though — maybe I do. It comes and goes.”

“Then what can we do about it?” you whisper, your vision hazy as you look at him. “Where do we go from here?”

“It’s getting late,” Jungkook only whispers, unwilling to look at the bed you share. “I have an early flight tomorrow.”

[fairyhaos]

❖ no such thing as too perfect // jeon wonwoo

wonwoo x gn!reader, 2k+ words

tags: office au, established relationship, fluff, kinda crack, junhui is the best work bestieTM ever, yn is Dramatic and In Love

warnings: none

notes: this was only meant to be like, 1.2k.... idk what happened but im not apologising. also there are a couple of pov switches which i hope make sense!!

“I think I need to break up with him,” you say, and Junhui blinks around a mouthful of salad. 

“Who?” he asks, spraying pieces of feta cheese all over the table, and you wrinkle your nose and brush away a few bits that get too close to you and your bento box. He frowns, and then his eyes widen. “Oh my god, you need to break up with Jeon Wonwoo? Why do you need to break up with Jeon Wonwoo?”

You wince as Junhui's loud exclamation rings throughout the office canteen, making several heads turn to look at the two of you. 

“Don't yell it so loud—and why are you saying his name in italics?”

“Because this is Jeon Wonwoo,” Junhui emphasises again, shoving salad passionately into his mouth before carrying on talking. “He's the only one of your boyfriends that I've actually ever approved of. Which is crazy, because Soonyoung introduced him to you, and I've never pinned Soonyoung as a guy that knows boyfriend-material guys.”

You reach over and lower Junhui’s fork, preventing him from eating and talking at the same time. “I don't know,” you sigh. “I just… I don't think this is going to work.”

“What did he do?” Junhui asks. His face morphs into a more serious look. “Do I need to murder him for you?”

“No, I— no! Don't murder him!” you say quickly, shaking your head. “He hasn't done anything wrong. It's just. I think I need to break up with him.”

The grave look melts from Junhui's face, and then he frowns. “You need to break up with him… even though he hasn't done anything wrong?”

“Yes.”

Junhui stares at you, mystified, then snatches back his fork to keep eating his salad. “Okay, so you've gone insane. Nice to know.”

You sigh at Junhui's response, rubbing your temples. 

Whilst it does sound insane for you to break up with Wonwoo even though he's done nothing wrong, in your eyes, it's actually quite understandable. 

Nothing has gone wrong, per se: you've been dating Wonwoo for about ten months now, and everything has been perfect. He's been perfect. 

Maybe… a little too perfect. 

He's always being so gentle and courteous, silently reading your emotions and knowing exactly how you're feeling at any given moment. He knows what you need before you even know that you need it—giving you little cheek kisses to remind you that you're loved, pushing a chocolate bar into your hand when you're all dizzy and tired, hugging you to sleep when you've had a bad day. 

The bento box that you're opening and having for lunch? That was prepared by him too. 

Jeon Wonwoo is just so goddamn perfect, and it worries you. 

“I don't think I'm good enough for him,” you admit whilst Junhui is busily sipping his water. 

It's fascinating how he manages to eat so frantically whilst eating so slowly at the same time, you think idly, as Junhui chokes on the tiny sip he was taking. He sets down the glass, wiping his mouth and blinking at you. 

“Sorry, what?”

“Come on, Junhui, do I really have to say it again?” you complain, beginning to open your bento box. “You heard me.”

“Yeah, and I couldn't believe my ears,” he says, tilting his head sideways. “You? Not good enough for him? Please. That's crazy.”

You make a questioning noise. “You just said that he's the only boyfriend of mine that you approved of.”

“Exactly.” Junhui stabbed his fork in your direction, before going back to shovelling leaves into his mouth. “You're perfect for him, and he's perfect for you. I predicted it from the moment you met.”

“I don't know about me being perfect for him, but he really is just too perfect for me,” you whine. “Him and his stupidly warm eyes and that smile… oh, Junhui, he makes me feel like the most beautiful person in this entire universe.” You look down at your bento box, pouting. “Wonwoo's just so perfect.”

Junhui makes a face. “Gross, but okay. I still don't see your point, though. Wonwoo's perfect, and you're both good enough for each other. I don't see why you think you need to break up with him.”

Still looking down at the bento box, you let out a sigh. All of the food is neatly packed away into the separate compartments, and he's even arranged the sesame seeds on your rice into a little heart. It's an awfully goofy but also an awfully Wonwoo thing to do, and you can feel your heart squeezing painfully in your chest, the longer you stare at it. 

This is not good. You are far too in love with Wonwoo. 

That's what you tell Junhui, and he stares at you with utter disbelief as if you've finally admitted that you really have lost your mind. 

“And what makes you think that he's not far too in love with you?” Junhui asks. “You know, one of the reasons that I approve of Wonwoo is because he's just so so in love with you. Like, almost disgustingly in love with you.”

“What?” You blink at him, before shaking your head. “Junhui, no, this is serious. Wonwoo's just so perfect and I'm so in love with him and—and it's actually getting dangerous now. I've literally fallen in love with him.”

Junhui stares at you for a long moment, wondering whether you're actually being serious about all of this. 

“That's not a bad thing,” he insists, and then chomps on his salad in frustration. “Y/N, that's not a bad thing at all.”

“Yes it is,” you say, despairingly, looking forlorn as you prop your chin on your hand. “I love him too much. It's gonna—it's gonna get too overwhelming, soon, and then he'll start thinking I'm weird, and he'll distance himself from me, and then we'll break up and I should end this before that happens.”

Junhui shakes his head. “I don't think that's true.”

“Yes it is.”

“No it isn't. He won't break up with you.”

“Not yet.”

Junhui looks away exasperatedly, because you're adamant in wallowing in your despair over having to break up with Wonwoo because “he's too perfect” even while quite happily eating the lunch that Junhui knows Wonwoo probably prepared for you. 

It's insane, he thinks, because it's obvious to him that Wonwoo loves you a lot. But he knows you and your negative thinking, and short of Wonwoo walking in here and professing his love to you all by himself, Junhui can't think of anything that could possibly convince you otherwise. 

As he looks past your shoulder to the glass doors of the office canteen, however, he blinks. 

There's a tall man entering the canteen, his dark hair all fluffy and his glasses-rimmed eyes scanning the area, lips pursed into a look that could almost be described as bored. He has his hands in his coat pockets, wearing the most simple casual fit ever, but he exudes such cold model energy that even Junhui blinks again. 

And then he watches as the man catches sight of you and Junhui, and his entire demeanour just softens. 

Junhui bites back a grin. 

Wow. Maybe he’s, like, actually psychic. 

“Wonwoo's here,” he says abruptly, and your head snaps up so fast that he can hear the audible click that sounds in your neck. 

“Where?” 

Junhui doesn't get to say anything, however, because he sees the moment that your eyes clock the tall man that's striding into the canteen, the light catching the frames of his glasses, and watches as you positively melt, in much the same way that the man had done when he saw you. 

He can almost hear every infatuated thought that runs through your mind. 

“Wonwoo,” you breathe, once Wonwoo steps close enough to the table that you and Junhui are eating at. His hair is all fluffy and windswept, and you resist the urge to smooth it down with your fingers. 

“Hello.” Wonwoo bends down, presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “You weren't answering your phone.”

“Hm? I didn't get any text notifs from you.” You check your phone, trying to turn it on, only for the screen to remain black. “Oh. Is it dead?”

“I suspected as much,” Wonwoo says dryly, but there's a fondness in his voice as he pulls out a power bank from his pocket. “Here.”

Your eyes light up. “Oh, you're a life saver!” You look up at Wonwoo, smiling at the way his eyes look so warm as he gazes down at you. “Thank you.”

Junhui slurps his water loudly. 

“Sorry,” he says, sounding not sorry at all when the two of you look over at him. “Don't mind me.”

He's grinning mischievously, for reasons that you cannot fathom, and when he leans forward to peer up at Wonwoo with curious eyes, the mischief in his grin only increases. 

“So, Wonwoo, why are you here?”

Wonwoo tilts his head, pushing his glasses up at the same time. “You're Junhui.”

“The one and only,” Junhui says brightly. “I'm Y/N's work bestie. I've heard loads about you.”

You hiss in annoyance, kicking Junhui under the table even as Wonwoo laughs amusedly, placing a hand on your shoulder affectionately. 

“Wen Junhui! Why would you say that?”

“Do you talk about me that often?” Wonwoo asks, and his tone is somewhere between genuinely curious and adoring and you kind of just wanna sit there and listen to his voice forever. 

“Oh, all the time,” Junhui says, eyes gleaming, and you snap your gaze back to him, exasperated. “Y/N loves you so much. I hear about the extent of it every day.”

Wonwoo looks down at you, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

You kind of want to deny it, but then that would mean lying to Wonwoo, so you don't. 

“Maybe?” you say weakly, cheeks burning as you smile sheepishly up at him. “You're just, uh. Really really lovely. And, um, I kind of love you. A lot.”

Wonwoo laughs, a full and endeared laugh, twinkling with the light of a thousand suns. “I'm glad. Because you're really lovely, and I love you a lot too.”

Your eyes widen, and suddenly it's like it's just you and Wonwoo in the canteen now, him with his hand on your shoulder and those eyes, holding your very soul in place as he just smiles so lovingly and oh God you really do love him. 

“Oh,” you say, soft. “Wonwoo…”

Wonwoo just smiles again. “Anyways, I came by to let you know that I'll be finishing work a bit earlier today, so call me when you're done and I'll drive by to pick you up, okay?”

You nod, mute, stunned by the gentlest words of “I love you” that had left Wonwoo's mouth just seconds before. 

“It was nice meeting you,” Junhui chirps, but Wonwoo doesn't seem to hear, because he's looking down at you again, before swooping in and placing the lightest kiss on your nose and you feel like you could combust on the spot right there. 

“I'll see you later?” he says. 

You nod. “I'll see you later.”

Wonwoo smiles, and then the hand slides off your shoulder and he walks away. 

You watch him go, watch him walk through the tables and then get to the glass doors, where he turns around one last time to wave goodbye before disappearing outside, and really, it's insane how much you love him. 

And how much he loves you, it seems. 

“So. He took time out of his own lunch break and came all the way here to give you a charger because he knew that you'd forgotten one and to tell you that he's picking you up later?” Junhui says, making you reluctantly turn back to him. “Y/N. If this doesn’t make you see just how in love with you Wonwoo is, then I’m gonna kick you.”

“Hey, no need for violence,” you say, raising an eyebrow, and Junhui pulls a face. 

“So do you see it or do you not?”

You look over your shoulder again, out at the doors. Wonwoo’s no longer there, but you can still imagine the imprint of his warmth, lingering like the softest lavender scent over the entire area. 

“Maybe I do,” you say, all wistful and dazed, a smile on your face. “Isn’t he just so perfect?”

Junhui grins, and makes use of your distracted state to steal a carrot stick from your lunch, crunching on it loudly.

“Perfect and in love with you,” he points out. “So do you still feel like you need to break up with him?”

“Hm?”

You blink, eyes still all starry from your few minutes of interacting with your boyfriend, his soft smile etched into your mind. It takes a moment for Junhui's words to register, but then they do, and you can't help but laugh. 

“Oh. Oh, no. He and I are perfect.”

Junhui grins. He really is a psychic. 

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @thedensworld @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @sakufilms @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @amxlia-stars @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect

[daisymbin]

do you like me? - yoon jeonghan

warnings: as usual, alcohol as it is part of the drunken series , use of "she"

pairings: yoon jeonghan x reader

genre: friends to lovers, tiny bit of fluff, jealous jeonghan

wc: 2.2k

a/n: i cant believe its 2.2k wc, i was only aiming for 1000 minimum LOL. also im sorry yall, I feel like this fic didn't show more of 'drunk jeonghan' but I tried my best so I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing this one! also I miss yoon jeonghan :(

drunken confessions masterlist

check out my masterlist! // hannie's m.list

jeonghan had always been playful with you. his teasing was a daily occurrence, a steady rhythm in the chaos of your shared lives. whether it was his shameless compliments, sly smiles, or that way he always seemed to invade your personal space, it was his favorite game; to make you blush, to get you stumbling over your words. he was drawn to the way you’d turn red, to your quiet flustered reactions. for him, each shy smile, every averted gaze was a little victory, he savoured each & every one of them.

but today was different.

you’d bitten off more than you could handle, volunteering to organize tonight's dinner without realizing the work it entailed. you thought it was easy; I mean, its just dinner right? but you forgot the part where its for 14 people. part of you wanted to ask jeonghan for help, he was resourceful, organized, and probably the best person for the job. yet, just the thought of sitting with him, of his teasing comments while he leaned close to look over the details, made you anxious. you could already imagine his smirk, the inevitable, “oh, so you do need me,”  that would tumble from his lips. the thought alone had your cheeks heating up, so instead, you turned to seungcheol.

“hey, cheol,” you called, catching his attention. “could you… help. me with tonight's dinner planning? i’m a little overwhelmed.”

seungcheol looked at you with an easy smile. “of course. what do you have in mind so far?”

you settled beside him, going over the checklist you’d made. seungcheol was focused, nodding along, giving practical suggestions. his presence always easy and comforting for you.

meanwhile, jeonghan had wandered into the room just in time to see you sidle up to seungcheol. his eyes narrowed slightly, taking in how close the two of you were, your heads bent together, deep in conversation. you laughed at something seungcheol said, and jeonghan felt his chest tighten. he was used to your flustered, shy reactions, but this was different. with seungcheol, you looked comfortable, relaxed: in a way you never were around him.

the more he watched, the more that flicker of irritation grew, a quiet jealousy simmering just beneath the surface. he didn’t realize he’d been clenching his fists until he caught seungcheol looking at you with that friendly smile, his hand resting casually on the back of your chair. something inside him snapped.

walking over, jeonghan put on his usual casual smile, but there was a tightness to it. “am i interrupting something?” he asked, his voice light but with a sharpness that made you and seungcheol look up.

seungcheol raised an eyebrow, not missing the tension in jeonghan’s expression. “just helping out with the dinner tonight,” he said, meeting jeonghan’s gaze evenly. “she needed some help.”

jeonghan’s gaze flickered to you, his brow furrowing slightly. “really? you needed help?” he echoed, the emphasis on ‘you’ just sharp enough to make your cheeks flush. he turned back to seungcheol, his voice dropping. “you must be really busy to spare the time, huh?”

seungcheol gave a small chuckle, clearly unfazed. “never too busy for a friend,” he replied, his tone pointed, as if daring jeonghan to say something else.

jeonghan’s jaw tightened, and he forced a thin smile. “that’s good,” he said, his voice deceptively soft. “after all, friends should help each other, right?”

he moved closer, positioning himself between you and seungcheol, and leaned over to glance at your notes. “you could’ve asked me, you know,” he murmured, his tone a mix of annoyance and something sharper. “i thought you knew i’d make time for you.”

you looked down, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “i… i just thought you might be busy,” you lied, not daring to meet his gaze.

“busy?” jeonghan echoed, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, though there was no humor in it. “funny. because it looks like you had plenty of time to find seungcheol.” he let out a low chuckle, but it lacked his usual warmth, sounding more like he was biting back something he didn’t want to say.

seungcheol raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he watched the exchange. “jeonghan, if you wanted to help, all you had to do was say so,” he said, his voice calm but pointed. “i don’t mind stepping aside.” seungcheol; knowing jeonghan's crush on you, was annoyed that jeonghan saw him as a threat.

jeonghan’s gaze hardened for a split second, and he gave a stiff shrug. “no, don’t worry. wouldn’t want to step on anyone’s toes,” he replied, a hint of sarcasm slipping into his voice. he turned back to you, his expression softer but still tinged with frustration. “but angel, just next time, maybe try asking me first?”

he glanced at seungcheol, a flash of irritation crossing his face as he noticed the small smile on seungcheol’s lips. 

dinner 

dinner that night started lightheartedly enough, filled with jokes, the clinking of glasses, and shared laughter. you were seated across from jeonghan, who seemed quieter than usual, eyes not quite meeting yours. the earlier tension from the day still lingered like an invisible thread between you.

as the evening went on, seungcheol seemed to gravitate towards you, his hand resting casually on your shoulder as he laughed at one of your jokes. every now and then, he’d lean in close to say something only you could hear, his warmth pressing into your side. it was the kind of natural, friendly touch that seungcheol was known for, but tonight, under jeonghan’s watchful gaze, it felt heavier.

jeonghan’s eyes darkened each time seungcheol’s fingers brushed yours or his arm draped over the back of your chair. his usual playful smirk was replaced by a tight line, the humor in his eyes dulled with an emotion he didn’t bother hiding anymore. the casual sips of wine he’d been taking turned into longer, more frequent gulps, his hand clenching the stem of the glass as if it were the only thing anchoring him.

“you’re really good at making everyone laugh, you know that?” seungcheol said with a grin, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. you giggled, warmth flooding your cheeks at the compliment, oblivious to the way jeonghan’s jaw clenched from across the table.

“cheol, i think its just you, no one else thinks that." you said as you hit seungcheol's chest playfully. & by "no one else" you really only meant jeonghan because he's sitting there, not a hint of humour on his face. but your gesture towards seungcheol & the added alcohol in his system, heightening his senses only made jeonghan’s frustration spike. the easy way you interacted with seungcheol, so comfortable, without a hint of the nervousness you usually had around him. it felt like salt in an open wound.

jeonghan finally set his glass down with a sharp clink, drawing everyone’s attention. his smile was there, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “seungcheol, you’re really good at making everyone feel special, don't you?” the question was laced with a bitter edge, masked just enough to pass as playful to anyone who wasn’t paying attention.

seungcheol raised an eyebrow, sensing the tension but choosing to play along. “well, someone’s gotta keep the mood up, right?” he chuckled, his arm going back to rest on your shoulder. the familiarity in his posture made jeonghan’s blood simmer.

“right,” jeonghan said, his voice deceptively light as he pushed back his chair and stood up, the scrape of wood against the floor sending a jolt through you. he rounded the table, stopping just behind your chair, his hand landing on the back of it with a grip that made you glance up at him in surprise.

“mind if i steal her for a second?” jeonghan’s tone was polite, but the look he shot seungcheol was anything but.

seungcheol’s eyes narrowed slightly before he let out a short laugh, leaning back and lifting his hands in mock surrender. “by all means,” he said, but the knowing glint in his eyes spoke volumes.

jeonghan leaned down, his face close to yours, voice low enough that only you could hear. “we need to talk,” he murmured, and the way his fingers brushed against your shoulder sent a shiver down your spine.

“o-okay,” you managed to say, your heart thudding in your chest as jeonghan’s gaze bore into yours, filled with an intensity that left no room for argument.

the room around you seemed to hold its breath, the chatter and laughter fading as jeonghan’s jealousy, simmering all night, finally bubbled to the surface.

jeonghan stepped closer, the intensity in his gaze weighing heavily on you. the lighthearted banter that usually flowed so easily between you was replaced by a thick tension that felt almost suffocating. you could feel your heart race, unsure of what was coming, but dreading it all the same.

“i need to get this off my chest. it’s been eating at me all day.” he said, his voice low and shaky,

you swallowed hard, the unease swirling in your stomach. “what is it?”

“do you like seungcheol?” 

“what? no, he's just a close friend.” your voice loud and clear.

“good. i don’t want to see you with anyone else,” he confessed, the liquid courage had him spilling words out in a rush, as if he couldn’t hold them back any longer. “not seungcheol, not anyone. it kills me to watch you laugh with him, to see you so at ease when you’re with him.” his eyes glassy.

you opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off, frustration lining his features. “do you have any idea how much it hurts? every time you go to him instead of me, every time you ask him for help instead of me? it feels like you’re choosing him over me, and i can’t stand it!”

the heat of his words struck you like a slap, and you recoiled slightly, your heart aching at the rawness of his confession. “jeonghan, it’s not like that. i didn’t mean-”

“but it is!” he interrupted, his voice rising with emotion. “why is it so easy with him for you? you say he’s just a friend but when you need help, he’s the first one you think of? when we were sitting round the table for dinner, you just had to sit beside him? i’ve tried to brush it off, to act like it doesn’t bother me, but it does. i like you. like. a lot. i really really like you. and seeing you with him makes me feel like i’m losing you, which is stupid because you were never mine to begin with but it feels like you’ll never see me as anything more than just a friend. and it tears me apart. it just. hurts. do you even think of me? do you even think about me?” 

his voice cracked on the last words, the vulnerability laid bare in front of you. your chest felt heavy as you took in the pain etched across his face. “jeonghan, i-”

“no,” he said, shaking his head, anguish flooding his expression. “you don’t have to say anything if you don’t feel the same way. i just… needed you to know how i feel. i’ve been holding this in for so long, and it’s exhausting. i can’t keep pretending that it doesn’t matter to me when it does.”

your heart raced as you processed his confession. you could see the hurt in his eyes, the fear of rejection bubbling beneath the surface. “i… i do care about you,” you finally managed, your voice trembling. “but i was scared to admit it, we’re so…different.” jeonghan’s eyes softened for just a moment, but the hurt was still there, lingering. “then what do we do now?” he asked, the vulnerability seeping back in, but now mixed with an edge of despair. “because watching you be happy with someone else… i don’t think i can handle that anymore. so tell me, do you…do you like me?”

his question brought silence, it hung between you, thick with tension and jeonghan's raw vulnerability that shows his uncertainty, but within it was a glimmer of hope because jeonghan knows what your answer is when you locked eyes, he saw the way you looked at him. the world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in a moment that felt both terrifying and exhilarating.

whatever was in the magic somaek as mingyu called it when he handed it to you was definitely working, because out of all the times jeonghan teased you to no end & his endless friendly flirting that left you shy & red, this has got to be the one time you really ought to be running away with the way he's looking at you.

so tell me, why is it that when jeonghan pulls you closer by your waist and looks into your eyes as if asking for permission for god knows what, why do you nod your head twice with great certainty? & when jeonghan smiles so wide, bringing his left hand up to your neck to pull your body flush against his own and kisses you on your lips, why do you kiss him back?

[gracie-eilish]

sunshine on a cloudy day🧶🌧️☀️

here’s a blurb while i create my prompt list and continue fighting off this deadly writers block plague 🤓

also i typed this on my phone and i have long nails on again so as always ignore any missed typos or errors 🙃

the rain splattered against the window softly, giving your shared apartment a tranquil essence as you and billie enjoyed the last bit of your weekend.

your candle crackles away on the coffee table, giving filling the room with the smell of blue raspberry and sugar. billie thought it was too sweet, but you and your doe eyes always win.

other than the rain, the almost muted volume coming from the tv, and the puppy’s snoring on the floor were the only things to be heard. well that and the occasional soft groan from you.

“whatcha making over there?” billie asked softly, stifling a giggle at your latest grumble. she walked across the room from the kitchen, a mug full of tea in her hand, to come peek at your latest little hobby.

“well… i’m not sure yet, but i wanna practice the basic stitches a bunch before i set on making something ya know?” you barely looked up from your… dish cloth? tiny blanket? pot holder? you weren’t sure but you were having fun learning a new skill.

billie pressed a kiss to the top of your head before setting her tea down and plopping next to you on the couch, stretching an arm to rest around your shoulders.

“kinda looks like a cunty caterpillar,” she snorted, making you gasp and huff at her accusation.

“excuse me you were the one who said i should learn to crochet. and if i remember correctly, you were also the one who said it was gonna look funny for a while, while i was still learning so i don’t want to hear it,” you quipped back at her, not wanting any criticism from your once very patient teacher. clearly that patience was taking a leisurely day off.

“ok ok ok, im sorry darling. you’re right i did say that, i confess. it’s the best cunty caterpillar i’ve ever seen if that makes you feel better,” she teased, using her other hand to pinch your side making you squirm.

you just gave her a stank eye before continuing your stitches. not without snuggling into her side more of course, letting her arm rest around your shoulders and your head rest back on her own shoulder.

for a while the two of you sat there, billie occasionally pointing out a little fluke stitch, teaching you little tricks along the way. but for the most part you two relaxed in the quiet. puppy snores and the rain being your soundtrack.

at one point you grumbled and snuggled closer into her side, “ok why the fuck is it so cold in here? i thought it was humid outside today!” billie just hummed a response, feigning innocence hoping you didn’t notice the open window behind the couch. she always would open the window up a crack when it rained knowing you’d get cold and want to snuggle closer.

“i don’t know baby. i’ll check the heat in a bit,” she pressed a kiss to your shoulder, before moving her arm to snake around your waist to hold you closer, hoping to warm you up.

“i should make this into a blanket so i don’t fucking freeze,” you snorted making billie cackle.

“well get goin’ mama. your fuzzy caterpillar isn’t gonna do much for ya right now.”

“oh my GOD billie!” you tried to hide your giggle while scolding her, but you were unable to when she started giggling with you, peppering your cheek with ticklish kisses.

the wind had died down leaving the rain to be soft little splats on the window, your candle had started to burn out leaving only a bit of light left from it, and billie had started to grow sleepy snuggling you so close and warm.

“i don’t wanna go to work tomorrow,” you half said, half yawned setting down your crocheting with a huff.

“i know mama. don’t think about it yet though. you just stay right here with me and your cunty crochet caterpillar looking rectangle,” she said in her silly little voice making you snort.

you turned to place a soft kiss to her cheek, making her eyes sparkle when they met yours. you both smiled for a moment before settling back to your snuggles.

“maybe next time you can make like, a cunty snake or something.”

“BILLIE!”

[yoiisa]

Hey Sofie!! Hope you're doing well! I wanted to make a request for a Wind breaker fic if that's okay!

Can you do a Sakura Haruka x Reader one where Reader's been pining (mutually but Sakura is so dense he doesn't even know what he's feeling) after Sakura for like a while. And like just recently figured out that they've liked him romantically.

I'm pretty sure you know how sensitive Sakura is to romantic stuff, and if you've read the manga, and has like a romantic sensor where he can tell someone has feelings just by the look in their face.

Now, what about Reader is trying their best to hide their feelings for Sakura and Sakura is like 'THEY LIKE SOMEONE?!' And that's the whole plot. They get together by the end of it.

IM REALLY SORRY IF I'M LIKE BEING TOO SPECIFIC ITS JUST THAT THIS CAME TO MY MIND AND I COULDNT GET IT OUT OF MY HEAD 💔😣

Feel free to ignore if you don't like this 🙏 Thanks for reading!! 🌹

this is so cute oml. it reminded me of this time I didn't realize a guy had a crush on me until five months after we stopped talking and my friend was the one who pointed it out (ᵕ—ᴗ—) im suuuppper dense irl!

➜ in my mind, the first person to actually bring it up to Sakura would be Nirei. Like, it would be as they're leaving school for the day, and you happen to be there ➜ here's the thing though: like you said, he can still tell something's up. that blush you're rocking doesn't go unnoticed. he just thinks it's for someone else entirely

"Sakura!" you call, waving your hand. Nirei, Suo, Kiryu, Sakura, and Tsuguera come to a pause as they see you walk over. You hold some small wrapped candies out to them. "I got these in a goodie bag from the arcade. I don't like these flavors so you can have them!" Sakura, cocking his head to the side just huffs. He can feel his face growing warmer by the minute, and he's not about that. He casts his gaze off to the side and huffs, "I don't want your leftovers . . ." but he still takes them! "That was really nice of Y/N!" Nirei says as you send them a wave and walk away. "What flavors did she bring?" Kiryu asks, peaking at the wrappers in Sakura's hands. Sakura rolls his eyes and practically throws them into Nirei's hands. "Tch. Who cares? She just wanted an excuse to come over here and see Suo." When the boys all freeze and stare at him like he's grown fifty heads, all he can manage is a flustered "The fuck are you looking at?!"

➜ and here's the kicker. this goes on for months. literal months of sakura thinking that you want suo, because every time you come over, suo just happens to be nearby. ➜ you also go to suo for advice on Sakura as well, so you're spending even more time with him through that, and it really isn't helping your case here ➜ all of the other boys can tell though, that it's sakura you want, but none of them say anything: nirei feels bad for keeping quiet and tries to change the subject whenever you come up, kiryu says you could do better (which sakura wholeheartedly agrees with, completely oblivious to what kiryu's actually saying) tsuguera doesn't really care all that much, and suo? ➜ SUO THINKS IT'S HILARIOUS ➜ always one to mess with sakura, he's taking this incredibly seriously. he nods in agreement with sakura's assessments, and moans about how "it's too bad, she's such a nice girl but I'm just no interested . . . oh what to do . . ." ➜ and sakura feels bad, so he overcompensates for what suo's "lacking" ➜ he's more warm with you when you walk up to him ➜ if the two of you go somewhere together after/before school starts, like kotoha's restaurant, he'll carry your bags for you. if you see something you like, like a keychain or even one time, just a really good looking apple, by the next day, it's yours. you get worried at first that sakura's spreading his funds low over you, but he just waves you off and says it's from bofurin's influence.

"Sakura, seriously?" you sigh as he holds out a tiny stuffie of a white puppy with a black spot on its eye. "I didn't even touch it . . ." "But you wanted it didn't you?" Sakura asks before gently tossing the small dog to you. "I saw you staring at it when we walked past." "Yeah, but I didn't get it because it's a collectors edition from this brand. This must've been crazy expensive!" Sakura just shrugs. "The owner of that store gave me a discount. Said his daughter knows Umemiya or something. Said he likes Bofurin . . ." You gently stroke the soft fabric of the dog's coat. you do really like it, and the asymmetrical design kinda reminds you of Sakura. Your eyes widen as a hand comes up and pats you. When you look up through your lashes, you see Sakura's face growing pinker by the second. You feel your own cheeks heat as he says, "You wanted it, Y/N. That's . . . that's reason enough." His words are hardly a whisper, and his voice is hoarse, as if he's forcing them out. Still, it's genuine enough that it earns a bright smile from you, and a soft "Thank you."

➜ eventually sakura reaches his breaking point with suo, because he wants you! of course he wants you, who wouldn't? you're smart, talented, and beautiful! suo is so ungrateful for not appreciating you properly, and sakura tells him as much

"What's your damage asshole?" Sakura grumbles one day as he pokes a straw through his juice box. It's hot outside, and he just got finished cleaning up grafiti on the side of some convenience store. "Hmm? What do you mean?" Suo asks as he wipes his forehead on the collar of his shirt. "If you don't have feelings for her, just reject her already," Sakura snaps. "It's worse for you to drag it out and make her think she has a chance with you-" "Who're you talking about?" Hiragi asks, unwrapping his ice cream sandwich. "Y/N L/N," Suo says. "You know her?" "Oh," Hiragi says. "Eh, not all that much. I saw her at Kotoha's restaurant the other day though. She was talking about some guy thing, but I could've sworn she said 'Sakura' and not 'Suo'-"

➜ oh lordy, poor sakura's brain just breaks ➜ like full on short circuits ➜ because what the actual fuck does hiragi mean you were talking about him to kotoha? that doesn't make any sense ➜ but when he looks up at nirei and suo, they're giving him knowing smiles. ➜ he thinks back to the past four months and how you were always trying to single him out from the group. he thinks about the sparkle in your eyes whenever you saw him and how you brighten, and how your smile widens, and how- ➜ HOLY SHIT YOU LIKE HIM-

Sakura body is moving before he can even compute anything happening around him. Suddenly, his entire being is on a one track minded sprint to your side, desperate to see you. You're standing outside, taking out the trash when he turns the corner to your street. You have lounge shorts on, a loose white shirt and your hair tied in a low ponytail. You fluff your shirt's collar to try and ventilate yourself better on this hot day, and as you look up, you see Sakura. "Oh! Sakura, hi-" You hardly manage another word, as he practically collapses onto you. His arms come around your shoulders and he squeezes. "You should've told me, idiot." "W-what?" you stammer, your arms coming up to his biceps. He huffs and pulls back, staring at you. His face is so red, he looks sunburnt, but you know he's just incredibly embarrassed. "I like you too, dumbass. So . . . so you should've told me! I was thinking it was Suo this whole time!" You give him an unimpressed look. "Suo? Seriously?" "Still!" Sakura cries out before shaking his head. He wraps his arms around you in a tight hug and huffs. "Whatever. It's over now anyways. I know everything and you know everything so we're good now." You return the hug, your arms equally tight and nod.

➜ around the corner, nirei, suo, and hiragi stand there, watching the spectacle unfold ➜ hiragi is just incredibly confused, but nirei looks close to tears of happiness and suo's messaging in a separate group chat with nirei, kiryu, and tsuguera. one that they made specifically to gossip about you and sakura

suo hayato: (one attached photo) SUCCESS! ദ്ദി´ ˘ `)✧

[gr4cier4cie]

♡ i'm a shameless caller (she's a full machine ♡ 2

or: you're the best thing that had ever happened to him. lando can't help himself from reminiscing a bit. or a lot. or all the time. (can be read as a happy standalone or a flashback from part one of this!!) fem!ex!reader x lando norris pt 1

warnings: none just a lil fluff and angst!! THIS IS A FLASHBACK TO WHEN LANDO AND READER WERE IN A RELATIONSHIP TO HELP FIX THE DAMAGE I CAUSED W PART ONE IM SORRY!!

♡

voicemail 1: — [1.10]

"hey, love, just got back to the hotel. [pause] quali was a killer. missed you like hell the entire time. can't even sleep without you anymore. [laughs] mum just sent me that video of you two baking at the house yesterday. she really likes that blue scarf on you—she told me to tell you to keep it. says it looks better on you than her. [laughs] she'd probably kill me if i said i agree, but i do. love you lots. hope you're, uh, sleeping well. even if i'm not. see you soon, baby."

voicemail 2: — [00.52]

"oh, baby, you would not believe what just happened in the drivers' meeting! [laughs] max tried to—actually, no, this is too good for voicemail. please, please, please call me the second you're out of work. it's absolutely mental. also! good luck on your presentation today, baby. you're going to smash it. i'm crazy proud of you. miss you lots. love you forever."

voicemail 3 — [1.12]

"hi, lovely, just got the care package you sent. [pause] how'd you know i was missing home? thought of it this morning, actually. feels like.... like you know me better than i know myself. sorry i didn't get a chance to call until now. had to stop carlos from eating all the biscuits you made me. [laughs] i stole a bunch of the tiny hotel soaps as a present for you when i get home. call me when you're done with work, yeah? love you."

voicemail 4 — [1.13]

"baby! wake up! i just had the best dream—it was you and me at home, and you were wearing my old race jacket and you were... cooking, maybe? i dunno, i'm already forgetting it. [laughs] but it was.... good. we were happy. simple as that. [sighs] i miss that. you, in the kitchen, in my race jacket. send me a picture of you in it when you get a chance. i miss you like crazy over here. anyways. love you forever."

voicemail 5 — [00.53]

"hi, lovely girl. i'm hiding in the bathroom of that gala thing i told you about. you would love it—they have the mini strawberry shortcakes you're obsessed with. ate like, four of 'em, just for you. [pause] keep reaching for your hand when i'm talking to people. keep thinking you're here with me. [pause] anyways. call me when you get a chance."

voicemail 6 — [0.50]

"hi, baby. i just found that note you left me in my bag. [sighs] you're really... something, aren't you? it's, uh, been one of those days. i really needed it. i really needed you. kinda pathetic, yeah? [laughs] sometimes i wonder what i did to deserve you. [pause] call me when you wake up? just... wanna hear your voice. love you."

voicemail 7 — [0.51]

"morning, lovely. just had breakfast with the team and... [laughs] you'll never believe what happened. you know the bracelet you made me? the beaded one, with my number on it? everyone else wants one, too. said it's giving me luck, or something. [laughs] you should charge them, if you ask me. anyways. love you lots. see you soon."

voicemail 8 — [00.21]

"hi love. it's properly miserable here in silverstone. raining like hell. my hair's all messed up, now. [sighs] don't laugh when you watch me on tv, yeah? i'll know if you do. [laughs] love you, baby."

voicemail 9 — [1.12]

"baby? just got your text about your day... wish i was there with you. would've made you that awful tea you pretend to like when you're stressed. [pause] i'm sorry it wasn't good today, baby. you don't deserve that. i'm so proud of you and... [pause] god, you deserve everything. everything good. i promise tomorrow will be better, yeah? i love you so much. hold on, okay? i'll be home soon."

voicemail 10 — [1.16]

"hey, baby. i know you're in the air right now, but... [sighs] i just watched the sunset from melbourne. took a couple pictures for you. can't wait till you're here so we can watch it together. [pause] i keep, uh, thinking about how you... how you changed everything for me. i didn't know life could get this good, you know? didn't know it was possible to love someone as much as i love you. [laughs] i was thinking maybe after the race... [pause] we could talk about you coming to more of them? like, all of them? permanently? [laughs] anyway. call me when you can. love you. so much."

♡

note: so... for those of you who read part one im sorry i tried to make this happier but i am now realizing it's not much better 😭 i want to apologize but what can i say?! angst IS my specialty!! MWAH LOVE YOU ALL!! taglist: @f1fantasys

[octoberautumnbox]

Orange-Tinted Sunset

Kiss of Life Belle & Male Reader

Categories/warnings: fluff, smut, angst, mentions of alcohol n bein drunk, technically not cheating but also sorta close enough idk u be the :jujj:

Word count: 2.6k

a/n: another prompt fic! based on kiof's Nothing i swear im on hiatus lmao but here it is! thanks to @mintwithchoco for prompt and hosting! as well as @sinswithpleasure for beta and @0cta9on for saying i was good at everything so i crode strove to prove em wrong lmao

~~~

The nightclub spun around you, the alcohol clouding your thinking and doubling your vision. A strange feeling set in–you really were a guppy in a small pond. Whatever roaring applause you got from the crowd after that impromptu karaoke bout was nothing compared to the girl that came next. You can’t even work up the energy to be mad; her voice is the single most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard, flowing through the air and filling up every silence in the world, and it doesn’t help one bit that everyone else thought so too.

Her name, just her name. You wouldn't mind going home with nothing to show for the whole weekend as long as you knew what she was called–you have to know. Against every single ounce of common sense you have left, you walk up to her, calling in every favor from the universe you’ve saved up until this point. “H-hey,” you stumble, clearly more nervous than you should be. 

She turns around, and as her hair settles onto her back, she replies, “Oh, hi. Can I help you?” Her smile lights up your world, and you gain confidence and lose it again just as quickly. She’s gorgeous too, and how could you live with yourself if you fucked up with a girl like this again? 

And you realize you’re staring. “Hi,” you start again, “sorry, I, uhh, you killed it up there. Best I've heard in a while.” Pardon yourself for the understatement; she was exceptional. Stop yourself from saying more; she’s probably already heard everything you want to tell her. 

All she does is giggle in response, and you swear you’re face-to-face with a goddess. You slip, so just fall deeper and remember to blame the alcohol later on, “I mean it. You’re like nothing I’ve heard before. Can I ask for your name?” 

Her face sours almost imperceptibly, but your nerves don’t let you miss it. She holds back a grimace, but ultimately, she replies, “It’s Belle. Sorry, is that all? I have to go soon.” She shifts in her chair, no doubt trying to escape the situation, and it dawns on you you might look worse than you feel. 

“Y-yeah, that’s all. I actually wanted to buy you a drink, maybe. One musician to another. You were amazing.” Your voice holds together for the most part, but it doesn’t change her demeanor. 

“Thank you, it’s just…” she hesitates, breathing deep, “whatever this is, I don’t want to get involved. You’re nice, but I just… I can’t handle anything else right now.” The discomfort leaves her features as a quiet sadness replaces it. You’re no expert, but even a dunce like you could tell she was tired more than anything else. 

“No worries, I respect it. I’ll leave you alone.” It’s strange how you feel the lightheadedness drifting away and your senses coming back, almost like you’ve saved up quite a bit of good karma to ground yourself like this. Debatable, but you still have enough sense in you to offer, “Here’s my number, no hard feelings if you throw it away. I at least wanna buy you some nachos tonight as thanks for that gorgeous song. Good night, Belle,” before paying for them and ultimately heading for the door, above all trying in vain to forget about her. 

~~~

It’s familiar in two ways, being hungover at noon, sitting in a restaurant too fancy for what you’d ever typically be found dead in. On one hand, it reminds you of one of the best days of your life–your beloved sat across from you in a simple floral sundress while you shared a brunch of French toast and orange juice. 

“Thanks for coming out,” Belle said in a tiny voice, “I'm sorry about last night. I want to get to know you better.” She offers you a pancake, and once you accept she deposits it onto your plate, followed by a just-right helping of maple syrup. 

You try to avoid sounding humble, but there’s no other way to put it. “There's not much to know, really. I just came here on a whim. Needed to get away from it all, broaden my horizons. Us singers just gotta, you know? If I didn't, I'd never have found you.” 

“I hear you. I'm here to take a step back too. Things became too much to handle recently,” she relates as she takes careful bites of her cereal. For the first time since last night, you see each other's eyes, and a kindred spirit in you pulls on your heartstrings. It's an unspoken pain that's anything but obvious, and yet you see it in each other as clear as day. 

“Fucking exes, right?” the pair of you say in unison. A hearty laugh escapes both of you, and afterwards the pancakes slide down a bit easier. 

Belle calms herself first, “So you get how I was last night. I'm sorry, none of it was your fault.” You offer her a napkin and pour her another cup of ginseng tea, which she sips with an ethereal sort of grace once she finishes talking.

“Of course. I'm sorry too,” you sigh, picking at your scrambled eggs, “but at least we're recovering. I'm actually itching to write a new song once my hangover clears.”

“Me too, it’s just so freeing to let my feelings out onto songs. Plus all it costs is a pen and paper–much cheaper than therapy,” she agrees.

On the other hand…

~~~

“Blue palm trees?” she giggles. “What does that mean?”

The waves lap idly at your feet, scattering sand over your toes and hers. The calming ocean breeze washes over the both of you and weakly ruffles the paper she easily holds.

“It's called a hook, Belle. It captures the audience's attention, you should know this shit” you jab, drawing out more of her laughter. “Just let me be, okay? I'm the one with the pencil.”

She settles again, “Okay, okay, fine,” and sits back up straight. Another wave washes the sand away from the tops of your feet, dragging them back to the depths of the sea. In a split-second of feeling the grains slide off your skin and away with the water, you feel deep inside that maybe it'll be easier to walk again. 

“You know,” she starts gently, “this isn't too bad. I came here determined to grow stronger, but I don't feel any different–just more of what I was before. And weirdly…” Belle pauses, taking a short glance at you, meeting your eyes.

You can't help it; she's just that beautiful. The orange-tinted sunset behind her offers her a halo of warmth and sincerity, and it captivates your whole being to be able to spend a moment like this again, when the world is just right, especially with her. The waterline reaches up to your soles once more, tickling the both of you and sprinkling new grains between your toes before drawing back and taking the old away. 

“... Weirdly,” you continue for her, “I'm okay with that.” Your eyes never leave hers, and she stays, too. It takes a moment of serenity for you to finally let yourself think that this might be something more, that maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world to stay with a girl like her. 

It takes a moment of serenity for you, but it seems like forever in an instant. Memories rush back like the ocean soaks the shoreline, swapping old sand with new, but you could never, can never, tell the difference. It's the same grains washing your feet, slipping between your toes, embedding themselves in your life so well that random moments like this bring you to the past when you least expect it. It reminds you of a history you'd give anything to forget: walking on a beach like this with a girl you thought you'd spend the rest of your life with–to an extent, you still do. How could you fuck up with a girl like that?

~~~

It's the worst gamble the both of you could take, and deep inside you knew there was no winning this. You felt it in your bones, from the beach to the elevator up until before you burst through her door with her, but the feeling is gone now, and for sure it’s gone for her too.  

“Mmm, just like that,” she whispers straight into your ear. You swear you’ve never tasted anything as sweet as the sweat on her neck, so much so that you never want your lips to leave her. She pulls you closer as if she could, maybe only decreasingly aware that her back was up against the wall and that even grains of sand couldn’t breathe in the space between you two. 

It takes no time at all, and you find yourself laid back and vulnerable on her mattress. Belle towers over you, straddling to keep you in place, as if you’d go anywhere. In a flash her shirt leaves her, then her shorts, and finally her underwear haphazardly thrown to the floor. Your own clothes follow even less ceremoniously, letting nothing get in the way of the woman of your dreams. 

“Fuck, that’s good…” she says as she lowers herself onto your length. You relish in the feeling of sliding into her, pushing her walls apart all the while lewd confessions spill from her lips. Your hands find her hips and you grip her tight, guiding her up and down as she bounces on your cock, “You’re so fucking tight, Belle…” while she places her hands on your chest to support herself as she takes you inside her over and over again, “I can’t get enough of you… I need you so bad…” losing yourself in her love. 

It’s the simplest thing to grab her wrists like this, to throw her onto the bed and fuck her yourself. She hits the mattress with a quiet thud, and without even a moment of respite you force everything into her again. 

“Gnnhhh, shit, it’s so good, you’re so good…” she gasps and grunts with every thrust like it knocks the air out of her each time. The bed creaks under the two of you: she tries to pull you close again, so you indulge her and meet her where she is to kiss. Amidst your tongues dancing in each other’s mouths, she moans like her life depends on it, “Yes, yes, oh my god, yes–” 

It’s the easiest thing to get lost in a girl like her. She’s perfect in every way you can think of–a smile to die for, a heart to protect, a body to worship. Each moment you bottom out in her, a spark goes off between your lips and hers, and it only pulls you in deeper, pulls you away farther from where you are. There’s nothing else to think about when you’re with a girl like this except her name and the way her body feels on yours. It’s so dreadfully incessant, unceasing in your head, that you thank your lucky stars you’re able to hold back most of your moans: Yuna, Yuna, Yuna, “Yuna…”

~~~

The sun blazes through the window and straight onto your eyelids, jolting you awake. The bed creaks as you bounce slightly on the mattress, your mind rushing to find your bearings, when right beside you, Belle stirs but then promptly falls back asleep. 

A grave sense of guilt overtakes you, clawing from the pit of your stomach all the way up to the back of your throat. There's nothing to say to her, nothing to do, and you know it. How could you fuck up with a girl like this? 

Your phone's alarm rings on a far-off table. Rush over to it, careful but quick so Belle doesn't wake. You knock over an ottoman in the process, but you're able to turn it off in time. Then it hits you: your flight leaves in a couple hours. There's no more time to think–gather your clothes and rush back to your own hotel. 

“Hour and a half,” you think, “more than enough time to repack and go.” Your door crashes open and you heave your suitcase onto the bed, haphazardly throwing everything you own back into it. The zipper disagrees with you for a moment until you finally bend it to your will, albeit threatening its life in the process.

The cabbie drives as fast as he can legally go for you, apparently already knowing the protocol, and people and buildings whizz past in a giant blur. He drops you off soon enough, and with only minutes to spare and the gate calling you over the intercom, you board your plane. The cold of the seat comforts you and calms your nerves, and once the hurried energy leaves your body, all that's left is fatigue that demands to be addressed. 

You scarcely notice the window beside you beyond pulling it shut. The cushions aren't as comfy as your bedding from the night before, but you can't attempt to complain in a state like this. You don't even feel your train of thought slipping away…

~~~

You’ve put it off long enough, the anxiety rending the lining of your stomach. In between your own calls and texts to Yuna you find yourself on the receiving end of the restlessness of your endlessly repeating ringtone and text notifications. You wait another few seconds to make sure she’s done, even tossing your phone onto your old bed to fetch a glass of water, before picking it back up and seeing the same number of messages. It's time. 

hey, where'd you go? Belle, 8:46 AM

it's a nice song, I'll send it over in a bit. call me? Belle, 8:50 AM

I'm at the restaurant again lol come on over Belle, 9:02 AM

you're really gonna make me miss you huh? hahaha Belle, 9:33 AM

*2 missed calls*

this isn't funny. pick up Belle, 10:14 AM

*2 missed calls*

you're serious? so last night was nothing to you? Belle, 11:15 AM

*1 missed call*

wow, what a fucking piece of shit you are Belle, 11:17 AM

*4 missed calls*

is it something i said?  Belle, 2:46 PM

let's just talk Belle, 3:30 PM

*2 missed calls*

just tell me what I did wrong please, I told you I can't handle this Belle, 3:37 PM

*8 missed calls*

don't do this to me Belle, 5:47 PM

*1 missed call*

fine asshole i don’t need you and fuck your song. Belle, 7:15 PM

don’t ever call me. Belle, 8:40 PM

The screen dims under your command. Your phone flies off into the folds of your bed once more, granting you your last moment of control. Belle finally stopped, and Yuna never made herself heard. At least one of you moved on.

You stand in your cold, empty bedroom, in the same dingy apartment you tried leaving behind. The same torn-up pages are scattered across the floor, the same stains on the carpet are there to step around, the same picture framed flipped down to hide the old photograph inside like grains of sand getting swept back up to you no matter how hard you try washing them away.

“It's another bottle tonight,” you decide in no time at all. Pull a cold one from the fridge, ignore the other bottles strewn across the room, take a seat at your desk. The lamp buzzes to life, and another sheet finds itself under your pen. 

They never meet. 

~~~

[everythingne]

little miss wingwoman (4) - ln4

Christmas Day starts without a hitch, but when you have some wine with Max, and Lando with his family--you find that maybe Penelope isn't as crazy as you think she's been these past few weeks. Also, Max Fewtrell finally makes his appearance.

warnings/notes: holy fucking shit y'all iM SO SORRY?? its been... too long!! hopefully this quarter will be a lot lighter for me, and I wont be as depressed (tmi but yay meds!) so i can get this baby FINISHED.

(prev | next)

It's early when the Norris' come back to the apartment, whisking into the home with an absurd amount of energy. You pause in the doorway, looking over at the family squishing through the front hall as they discard shoes and jackets, happily chatting with Lando.

You stood in the kitchen, making by far the most simple breakfast you could muster while the family was exchanging. Humming softly along to the radio. Despite knowing they'd welcome you, theres something that makes you feel a bit awkward joining in on the morning festivities. And so, you use the excuse of cooking to hide away from them all. It feels like you're encroaching, so you just keep your head down.

It's Mrs. Norris who intercepts you in the kitchen, a soft smile on her lips as she sets a little bag down on the counter, "Merry Christmas."

"You didn't have to." You immediately say, and Cisca shakes her head, pressing the gift a bit closer to you.

"I know my son, and in the course of a few days with him you've managed to make this flat look like a home, teach him to cook, got us gifts, made sure he didn't screw up Christmas... I think you deserve a little something, yeah?"

Inside is a bottle of wine, some brand Lando had probably seen you buy during a trip to the store, and a little wad of cash and some gift cards. Nothing big, but still more than you were expecting.

"Oh, Mrs. Norris, thank you." you say softly, stepping over to give her a tight hug. She only smiles, giving you a little squeeze on the arm, before ushering you to tell her what to do to help you with breakfast. Fifteen minutes later, plates are being piled up with food while you entertain Savannah's girls with their gifts. The whole apartment feels cozy, and when you lift your head--almost every time you catch Lando watching you with a tiny smile.

It's noon when Max calls.

"I know I said you'd be off for the holidays..." he starts, tentatively, "but Kelly's not feeling the best and doesn't want to cook, and I can try but we know how that goes--"

"It's alright, Max." You quickly reassure him, handing little Mila over to her father as Oliver nestles the half asleep toddler to his chest. You run a hand along the top of your head and sigh, "What time do you need me over?"

"When can you get here?" Max says and you look around. Lando's entertained with his family, and Savannah and Oliver give you a little nudge to go.

"Let me grab my bag." You say into the phone, followed by a bye as Max thanks you, and you turn on your heel to rush into your bedroom. You're midway through packing when a soft knock gets your attention and you look back to the door--Lando giving you a soft smile.

"Going to see the little princess?" He asks softly and you toss your bag over your shoulder as you stand, sighing and rubbing the side of your neck as if it aches the way your chest does when you see the sadness in Lando's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Kelly's sick again and--" "--Don't apologize," Lando holds up a hand, "It's your job."

You run your hand along your neck, moving closer, "I still feel bad--"

"--I'm not going anywhere, you know? Our place will still be here when you're done."

"Our place?" You tease softly, stepping over as you tug your bag over your shoulder, stepping up to stand nearly chest to chest with Lando. He smiles, gently leaning on the side of the doorframe.

"Yes, our apartment. Forget... staying here while you look for a new place." He murmurs, gently taking one of your hands. Every ounce of his confident bravado fades, and he offers you a sheepish smile, "I didn't realize how much I missed having a roommate until Max ended up moving out, now he lives with P--which is awesome for them but... having you around is quite wonderful too."

"Wonderful? You're using big boy words today!" You smile and Lando flushed, playfully punching your arm in response with a little scowl as he huffs,

"Can you stop ruining the moment?"

You laugh, pushing his shoulder and grinning when he stumbles back, smiling at you as you tug your purse tighter around your shoulder, "I'll see you later, yeah? When I get back to our apartment."

Lando just nods, grinning as you wave goodbye to his family. He escorts you to the door like you're a guest, holding your bag and phone as you throw on a pair of nice sneakers, and when you take your bag back you have to resist the urge to kiss his cheek.

As you're walking to the elevator, you catch the blush on your cheeks in a mirror, and have to swallow it down as you jam the 'up' button for the elevator because standing in the hall longer will make you want to run back to Lando.

Upstairs, Penelope is waiting for you in the hallway, her arms crossed. When you inquiry on why she's so upset, she huffs, "you haven't kissed him yet!"

"Kissed who?" You ask, looking up to Max in the doorway who struggles to cover Penelope's mouth as the girl goes to shout. He ends up smushing her face into his palms, using his heel to keep the door open as he speaks at half Penelope's volume in the early morning.

"She thinks you and Lando are dating or something." Max supplies, making you pause half step as you nearly stumble over your feet in shock. Dating? Did people think you were dating? Did Lando's family think you were dating?

You sputter, "Huh? What are you talking about?"

"He's really nice to you, and he smiles when you talk, and you get all blushy when he's around!" She demands, stomping her little foot, and you laugh--running your fingers through her hair before walking into the home as Max holds the door.

"He's just a friend." You say softly, though it's not your feelings you're protecting. You know he's a sweetheart. It's Lando for crying out loud, he'd rather cry than hurt someone's feelings with something said outside of the heat of the moment. And even then, you'd been there for times Max had Lando over for chats after stressful weekends, or listened to Max when he ranted about how much pressure was put on the guy.

Penelope continues to protest for a while, and you worked on grabbing the ingredients for the dinner Max tells you Kelly wanted to make while she blabbed. But when someone knocks on the door, you wipe your hands off on your apron as you go to grab it.

Lando's on the other side, your phone in hand, sheepishly murmuring, "I realized I never handed it back to you."

If you could hear Penelope's mischievous giggle from the other room, you would've looked back at her, unfortunately Kelly's laughter along with Victoria overpowers the sound of Penelope running across the kitchen to the living room with Nino at her heels.

"Oh!" You laugh softly, taking the device from his hands with a tiny smile, "Thank you, I hadn't even noticed! Penelope's been keeping me busy and--"

Something bonks your forehead.

"Oh." Lando's face turns red, and you blink up to see a tiny little buschel on a string. It swings, bonking you again, and you follow the string to where Penelope proudly holds her makeshift fishing rod of misletoe right between you and Lando.

"Penelope Piquet-Kyvat." You snip, looking at the girl who grins with all her all teeth, practically ear to ear.

"You have to kiss, thats the rule!" she chimes, and Kelly gasps, slowly getting up to do her little pregnant waddle across the room--attempting to take the rod from her daughter's hand. It was clearly some type of gag gift, based on how hard Victoria was trying not to laugh while Max looked mortified.

"Penelope! Come on, leave them alone!"

Lando coughs, trying to cover up a laugh, and without thinking you whack his shoulder to keep him quiet. But when your eyes meet, its impossible to not laugh. Being quiet to make Penelope know what she was doing was rude would be best, but with the tears in Lando's eyes from him trying not to laugh, it's impossible. You let a giggle out, covering your mouth, before you both crack and start cackling.

"Penelope, come on," Lando waves a hand, "I'm not kissing her, we aren't dating."

"But you could be," Penelope reasons, crossing her arms as the toy is finally yanked from her hands by Kelly--who playfully whacks a giggling Max with it when she crosses the room again--sending Victoria and Sophie in fits of laughter.

"Penny, come on." You sigh softly, but the girl is set in her mind that you two will end up together. She crosses her arms, pouts, and all but throws a tantrum before she shouts,

"You have to kiss!"

Lando looks at you, eyes flickering down to your lips and back up to your eyes a few times. Kelly and Max are now trying to get Penelope to leave you both alone, and for five minutes, you try to get her to give it up. Then Lando laments, and gently presses a kiss to your cheek instead. Which, if her giggles are any sign, satisfies Penelope for now as she runs into her Mom's awaiting hands.

Max mouths a sorry, trying not to laugh as Kelly fails to scold the toddler, and your attention is drawn by Lando gently squeezing your wrist.

When you glance over, he sheepishly murmurs, "sorry for just... doing that without asking."

"It's fine, Lan." You give him a soft smile, "Penelope might stop bothering us now."

Lando laughs at that, and you do to, but the underlying tension of the moment stays and lingers like a phantom pain long after Lando goes back downstairs. You feel the tingle of the kiss through cooking, serving, and eating dinner. Max cornering you while you're cleaning up isn't surprising, especially not when he hands you a bottle of wine and tells you to finish it.

"Max." You deadpan, "I'm here to work."

"Penelope went to bed, works over." Max shrugs, then nudges the bottle to you, "Drink it or I will and then Kelly will be mad because she still can't drink for a few months."

You blink, and laugh, pouring the rest of the bottle into your glass. You're already a bit dazed from drinking some wine earlier with dinner, so you know this'll end with you tipsy and trying to hide it.

When Max cheers when you take a sip, you roll your eyes, "Drink something too, Kel has that pregnancy mocktail mix she found online that I still think tastes like tequila."

"Oh, true." Max breezes past you to the get the little mix. It was some holistic medicine thing a friend of hers had told her helped with crazy pregnancy hormones, and Kelly agreed. He poured half of it in a glass and then topped it with ginger soda, and Kelly happily came to sit in the kitchen with you both while you finished cleaning.

They talked numbly behind you as you dried dishes and put them away, humming to yourself between intermittent sips of wine until Max decides to push it a little when he sees you're halfway down the glass.

"A kiss on the cheek is pretty close." Max says. You pause, peeking over your shoulder at him, seeing him narrow his eyes at you, "To a real kiss."

"No," Kelly nudges Max with her arm, "Pen thinks they actually kissed."

"Oh lord," you whisper, rubbing the dish a little harder and Kelly snickers. Finishing off her drink and announcing she's going off to get ready for bed. You put away the last of the dishes, downing your wine in one solid gulp in silence, before Max chimes.

"Would you date Lando?"

"Max." You turn around, looking at Max with a confused face.

He continues sharply, waving his hand, cheeks rosy from the strength of the wine, "I wouldn't mind it, if you dated him."

"Seriously?" You huff, putting the towel down a little harsher, "why are you asking this right now?"

"Because I have eyes? Everyone sees the way you two look at each other, I honestly think it's only a matter of time before one of you just says 'fuck it' and kisses the other."

You stare at Max, and he takes that as a sign to continue, "And Lando's like... the only driver I'd trust."

"Max, I'm not dating Lando." You deadpan to him, now fully turning around to face him, "Just because Penelope, and apparently everyone else thinks we have some sort of chemistry, doesn't mean I'm going to date him."

Max hums, crossing his arms before he stands, handing you his glass to pop in the dishwasher, "Why not? He's not the worst, honestly."

"Max, I just met him!" You huff in frustration, "I barely know him, I barely have spent time with him, can you just cool it?!"

Max blinks, and you groan, scrubbing your hands across your face in frustration, "And even if I wanted to, my track record for dating isn't good. I doubt it would go well, and I doubt he even likes me."

"I wouldn't second guess that last one," Max chimes, "He was the first person to jump at having you stay with him when I sent a text to all the drivers in the group chat asking if anyone had an extra room. And he wanted it so bad."

And after that, he bids you goodnight, and leaves the room. You stand in the kitchen for a long while, just staring at the spot where Max left. In the corner of the room, Penelope's mistletoe haunts you, and you feel the ghost touch of Lando's lips to your cheek again before it's gone.

Lando's in a similar predicament.

"I don't know, Ma." Lando hums, taking dishes from her arms and helping her put them away while his father helps his siblings corral the little ones and their gifts in the living room. The Norris family's bundles of energy are fussy now with exhaustion, Christmas day having been quite the adventure.

"What don't you know?" Cisca pauses, looking at her son as she hangs the towel to dry.

"I just met her, Ma. Sure, I've seen her around for two or so years, but her living with me is so new and... I wouldn't want to come off too strong."

Cisca tsks, gently squeezing Lando's arm as she passes him to dry off her hands on another towel, "You just have to ask, Lando. Which... may be easier said than done, but I'm sure knows you're a nice boy. Honestly, I still think one of the most romantic things your father did was ask me, very softly, if he could kiss me in the car on the way home."

Lando leans on the counter, shaking a hand through his curls as Cisca smiles at her son, "He was nervous, he didn't wanna seem too forthcoming--much like you. Just ask her if its okay."

"But what if it messes everything up?" Lando sighs, shaking his head as if trying to shake away the thought of giving you a kiss--because if he thinks about it any longer he might turn Ferrari red, "I wouldn't wanna make her uncomfortable."

"It won't, trust me." Cisca says, looking over her shoulder as the door lock clicks open and you step in, a bundle of gifts thrown over one arm and your purse dangling from your fingers. Se can tell the both of you are tipsy, and she smirks to herself before pushing off the counter--pausing to play music off the Google Home, before going to help her kids get packed up.

Lando snorts at you, stepping over to steady you as you try to pry your heels off. You look up at him and huff, "Does Max also shove drinks down your throat when you're with him?"

"Only now that Kelly's pregnant and the smell of liquor makes her sick," Lando hums, his hands holding onto your arm as you wiggle out of your shoes. He takes your purse and hangs it up where you always do while you go to drop the gifts from the Verstappen-Piquet's in your bedroom.

That's when Cisca appears with Adam, smiling at you, "Well, it's back to the hotel for us before the toddlers throw a tantrum and the adults get too drunk."

"Do you need me to drive you, Ma?" Lando calls from down the hall as Cisca gives you a parting hug.

"No no, I got a rideshare." She waves a hand, "It's not a huge deal, spend time cleaning up, there's quite a bit."

"I'll make sure he does," You give Cisca a soft smile, "thank you again for the gifts."

The little clump of Norris' in the hallway slowly diminished through the front door after goodbye hugs and leftover distribution. Once they're all gone, with a promise to text when they arrive safely in their hotel, you and Lando begin to tackle the cleaning process. He's working on the living room reorganization while you tackle the kitchen, and when he comes to help you after resetting the couch, the two of you are humming along to some Bill Crosby song when Lando dramatically begins to sway.

"Feel the vibes," he explains when you laugh and ask what he's doing, and through the 'vibes' you end up holding hands and jokingly swaying around the kitchen. It's clean...ish, for now, and Lando gives you a little spin for flourish.

The spin knocks you off kilter, and his hands reach out to grab your waist, steadying you and keeping you from fully slamming against the counter where he sets your back to rest. You catch yourself, one hand on the counter, one hand on Lando's shoulder. Your elbow is bent, sort of digging into his bicep as he leans forward to balance himself on the counter.

His hip bumps yours where he stands, accidentally partially between your legs, and you lift your head to nearly bump your noses. A giggle leaves your throat, and Lando's all smiles. There's a pause, as the music slows to its final swell where you think: Oh, here we go. This is it.

And then the moment is shattered as NuevaYoL blasts at full volume.

"Google!" You and Lando whip around to shout, your voices blending into laughter as you tipsily stumble over to turn off the song. As you laugh, Lando leans on your shoulder, and even if it didn't end with a kiss, his smile in that moment tells you all you need to know.

Maybe, somehow, Penelope had been right.

Lando wakes up the next morning to a headache he can only attribute to the alcohol, and the sound of Max laughing in the kitchen. He pauses, and distinguishes.

Max Fewtrell.

Groaning, he kicks the blanket off of him. Why Max and Pietra decided to come over the day after Christmas was beyond Lando's understanding. He couldn't think of anything they'd planned, so why were they here?

Then, he hears Max lament, "Lando's a pussy, you gotta push him." followed by your pretty laugh and, yep. Okay. Thats enough out of Max.

"Max!" He shouts, cringing at the pain it flairs behind his eyes as he snags a t-shirt out of his dresser and throws it on haphazardly. Shuffling on his feet, he ends up hitting the wall before managing to open the door. You're perched on the couch corner next to Pietra, who's scrolling idly through her phone, a cup of warm coffee or tea in your hands. Lando can't tell from here, but the kitchen smells like both. Pietra and Max's mugs settled on the table, along with an empty plate of food, telling him the two have been here for a while.

"Ah! Sleeping beauty!" Max cheers and you snort into your coffee, "Thought you died from alcohol poisoning."

"Shut up, you--" a yawn cuts Lando off and he scrubs his hands across his face, "I'm fine."

"You look exhausted, Lan." You say, worry tinging your tone, and Lando can't help the flutter that attacks his chest. Part of him wants to slap his chest to make it go away, but that would be more obvious.

"I'm just waking up, thats all." Lando waves a hand, but he can feel the burn in his cheeks that Max raises an eyebrow at. At that, Max stands, making his way over to drag Lando into the kitchen with some boring lament about Quadrant work. You huff a tiny laugh into your drink, again, and Lando thinks his heart skips before Max punches his shoulder blade.

"Ow?!" Lando turns around to whack Max back, and the two shove and shuffle deeper into the kitchen until Max grabs both of Lando's wrists, and whisper shouts.

"So, new roommate, and you didn't say anything?"

"I was busy."

"What were you busy with? Fucking her?"

Lando gawks, pauses, then shouts, "Max!"

"Sorry." Max pauses, hand up and the conversation drops back down to whispers, "you're the out of pocket one and I needed a turn because apparently I'm now that last to know things. I had Penelope Piquet tell me this in the line at the store."

Lando sighs, leaning against his counter and rubbing his face, "Of course it was Penelope. And I'm sorry for not telling you, I just... kind of forgot that I was hosting Christmas and luckily Yn's like the best nanny ever and fixed my whole damn apartment and saved the holidays and..."

He pauses, looking through the hall to the windows that mirror the living room where you and Pietra are curled up on the couch gossiping. She leans in to whisper something, and your head throws back in a laugh that echoes right into his heart and speeds it up.

"Oh." Max hums, "you're whipped."

"It gets worse, though," Lando sighs, "My mom did a list of Christmas activities in Monaco. We get to do the Christmas Village today. And, guess what ballet the company is putting on this year?"

"Swan Lake? The Nutcracker?" Max hums and Lando shakes his head.

"Well, one group is doing Swan Lake, but Penelope begged her mom to get me and Yn tickets to Giselle as a gift for Christmas." Lando cracks his neck, "Which, according to Oliver, is romantic. And now I have a five year old telling me I have to go or else."

"Oh, you poor thing." Max cackles, whacking Lando's chest, "it's a ballet, what could go wrong?"

Lando blinks at Max. Just about everything, he wants to say, especially when a very enthusiastic Penelope Piquet has clearly been secretly being his wingwoman.

And she will stop at nothing to see this through.

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