#and how selfish i am for not getting up at 6am to feed them because she's been the one setting that time for the past 9 years
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petition for mom to stop talking about k wording the cats every single day multiple times
#i mean every day#she just won't stop saying how much she hates them#and how selfish i am for not getting up at 6am to feed them because she's been the one setting that time for the past 9 years#she's the reason i'm considering going to work instead of staying home despite the stress#i'm just so tired of this shit
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timore.
i. onomatophobia.
tw for canon-typical events of KJSE, blood, violence, threats.
--
your name is jack mcloughlin. you are 12 when the mirror twists, and smiles at you. you have a shadow that glares at you. you are 13 and a month when it leans through, and finally talks to you. its words grate like nails on a chalkboard. you are 14 when it smiles and tells you what you will dream about, bloody and bright. you are 14 when you name it.
--
anti’s a fuckin’ stupid name. what’s the point, too? it doesn’t make you less afraid. it just means that there’s now a word that tastes like fear. how is that winning?
it’s not about winning.
then you’re more of an idiot than i thought.
--
your name is jack mcloughlin. your shadow smiles more than it doesn’t. it’s hard to remember that you’ve named it anti; harder still to believe that something as alien as the shadow that writes in blood on the mirror and leaves ink on the floor has a name as simple as anti.
--
so what are you?
everything. nothing. fear.
that doesn’t make any sense.
does anything about me make sense to you, little rabbit? the only constant that you know from me is that your heart beats jackrabbit fast against your chest when i whisper in your ears. you can barely even remember what you’ve tried to call me over the screaming in your head.
...so then you’re just fear.
just?
you’re fear.
eh. close enough. you’d probably shit a brick if i tried to show you what i mean i am.
…
do you want me to try? i think i’d like watching you cry scarlet. it’d be more interesting than the saltwater. maybe you’d be able to hear your own blood better.
no. no, i’m okay.
are you sure? it could be fun. :)
no.
spoilsport.
if i’m such a spoilsport, why do you stick around?
because you’re funny.
...funny?
yes. your little names, trying to run your fears off- it’s hilarious.
…
any other questions for the peanut gallery? i think i want to try sanding down that popcorn ceiling. it’ll be funny watching your house jump.
why did you come to me?
because you were scared.
what-
no more questions.
--
your name is jack mcloughlin. your shadow’s name is anti. you have named it in a hope of familiarizing yourself with the edges of the fear that crop up whenever the wood floors creak under feet that are not your own. you are 18, burning bright and only fueling the flame with no idea of where to turn it to. you’ve stopped looking in mirrors. you are 20, and a camera blinks, and you are 22 when you decide to use it. the shadows only darken behind you, and its- anti’s, you think to yourself- smiles have only stretched wider and sharper.
you sleep with an eye open, more often than not.
--
can’t keep the light on forever, jackaboy. can’t keep your eyes open through the night.
...
remember when you first tried to run? when you were fourteen and more scared than you’ve ever been in your life? i do. you should try running like that again; maybe you’ll get farther. better than trying to outlast something eternal.
why do you remember that?
i remember everything, don’t you know? memories are just electricity wrapped around bits of fat and meat. synapses twisted around each other to trap the lightning. i don’t need the meat, just the lightning. i can show you. it’s very, very painful.
no. i mean why is that the first time? you’ve caught me before, in the trees.
...
was it the name?
putting words to a situation doesn’t mean that you understand it any better. just that you can talk about it.
wipe that fucking look off your face.
i’m right, aren’t i.
right about what? what does the name do for you, sean? does it soften the brunt of the panic that clots in your lungs whenever the shadows hiss? does it hide the mirrors, does it dull my knife?
no, i-
shut the fuck up. stop going off about that fucking name like it will protect you. shut up.
--
your shadow’s name is anti. he has teeth sharper than the knife that he traces his fingers around. he is fear, and he is afraid, you find. he is afraid of familiarity, of being stripped of the power that he feeds off of. because that is what the name is; it is giving him a familiar form. defining an idea. when you define an idea, a friend had said, you filter it and paint it with your own biases. it carries a piece of you as much as you carry it.
names have power, the stories said, and you have not considered for a moment how much power they had said.
--
…
anti?
…
anti, i know you’re there.
of course you do. i’m always fucking there. you’re always afraid, these days. what changed, little rabbit? if you’re not careful, your heart’s gonna give out.
and you’re never afraid?
that’d be antithetical. fear shouldn’t be afraid.
you’re not just fear, though, are you?
how the fuck would you know?
fear wouldn’t try to drive a knife into someone’s eye.
...oh, cute. did you know that anger, above all else, can be rooted in fear? the fear that you’re going to be the next on the chopping block, the fear that someone else will take what you have, the fear that you’re not the wolf but the lamb to the slaughter? everything circles back to it. love isn’t love, it’s a fear of death, and loss. holding tight because you don’t want it taken away. happiness is just an absence of fear. sadness is the fear that it’ll happen again, that it’ll happen to you. selfishness is-
i get it.
no, i don’t think you do.
more than you do.
… getting bold, again, jackaboy?
what do you call yourself?
fear.
well, that too. but you call yourself my shadow. my mirror.
i think that i know myself enough to know when my shadow’s afraid that soon, it’s not going to be my shadow, but something else.
you barely know yourself enough to differentiate between your fear and terror.
you don’t have to be afraid, you know.
i’m not. keep pushing and i’ll push this knife into your throat. you’d fucking like that, wouldn’t you? you know that our first nightmares together were choking on your blood, feeling iron swell and swell as metal sings under our fingers. my fingers.
…
i’m not going to change you.
you couldn’t if you tried.
anti..
shut up!
--
october 31st, you sit in front of a blinking camera, pumpkin in hand, at 10pm.
at midnight, your lights start to flicker. you know you will have to edit out the part of the footage where you look over your shoulder, heartrate spiking. you will have to edit out where you call anti? there is no reply. he’s talking less, and less. you had once tried stretching your hand out to him; you had to explain to your professor why you had to miss class in order to get stitches for four deep lacerations. what’d you do, try to shake a coyote’s paw? the doctor had laughed. you hadn’t laughed. tried to give company to someone who was lonely, and afraid. the doctor had tutted sympathetically. rescues can be difficult. give them time, space, and understanding.
something bitter had welled up on your tongue.
--
at 1am, fear drips into your lungs, stealing your breath away. your ears pop. lightning wraps around your nerves, and your fingers move in tandem with anti’s gleeful whisper of mine. are you afraid, jack? do you feel the steel against our neck? one move, and you’ll be painting your pumpkin red.
--
what are you doing stop anti don’t move don’t move-
mine. ours. do you feel alive? afraid? anti stop stop stop not yours never yours-
get out, get out-
--
at 1am, your eyes slip shut. your heart jackrabbits and pumps blood onto the carpet under your feet. neurons upon neurons spark, and panic, and dim.
--
at 6am, your eyes fly open, fluorescent lights harsh above you. a heart monitor spikes, shrill. you cannot hear anti. when you open your mouth to call for someone, a soft whisper escapes your throat. you cannot see anti.
you feel him, for the first time. something angry, and festering, nesting under your heart. your own heart breaks at the same time that it twists with fear. the knot purrs, angry, and stretches. you remember.
anger can be rooted in fear.
the knot under your heart snarls.
--
your shadow’s name is anti. when he is afraid, he is cruel. when he is afraid, his knife gleams, and ozone crackles in the air. he drips blood, drips shadows. where you smile, he scowls. where he smiles, you stifle an icy dread building in your gut. he does not talk, anymore, except to screech static into the quiet. he drags the blade of his knife against the ceiling at 3am, drips blood deep into your carpet.
one night, you wake up to metal caressing your throat, teeth leering above you.
you scream, memories of lightning stretching through your head and twitching your fingers lighting up, panic burning through your veins. you jerk away. anti smiles, and your roommates burst into an empty room.
a nightmare, you tell them. their eyes wander to the scar on your throat. you do not turn off the light, that night; you don’t sleep, either. anti makes a sound, for the first time, behind you, and it is to laugh, and laugh into your ear.
--
i’m done.
what-
thinking you could name me, twist me- i’ve killed for less-
--
your name is jack mcloughlin. your shadow’s name is anti, and he has stopped speaking and started coming closer, and closer with his knife. he does not reply to you. he has stopped answering questions long ago. you are jack mcloughlin, 24, and you are shutting your eyes against the eyes that drip from his face. you are jack mcloughlin, 24, and there is a knife to your throat for the third time.
--
you are a red-clad hero, standing in a dark house at 3am, in front of a man and a shadow. you do not know who you are; all you know is that you have to protect.
light flaring on your fists, cutting deep into the dark, you follow the mantra hammered into your head, and drive the shadows into the ground, ink spreading like blood.
--
your name is jack mcloughlin and you are staring at an apparent superhero in your bedroom.
--
#timore#jacksepticeye#antisepticeye#MAN im digging this style#tw violence#tw threats#tw blood#kit writes
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Bumps and Dumps - Part 6
Harry and Hattie were best friends and fuck buddies until she got knocked up. Her life was becoming one big mess and even though her best friend had finally admitted his feeling but she believed it is only because of the baby.
Harold: Him…….
Hatters: We were just friends Harry and he actually seems to care about me and he didn’t have to knock me up to realise.
Harry kept rereading the text he finally realised how bad he had screwed up his chances with her. He had always known she liked him for the most part he never realised though that one day when the universe had made it clear he can be selfish he can have her she would no longer want him. He had spent the whole of the SNL after party looking at this photo of her and fucking sink boy. Aj had been his only real threat and now he was playing the role of Dad to his unborn baby, he should be rubbing her back not him. Ever since that skit all he thought about was them going to birthing classes, getting the nursery ready in the new house and talking to her bump. Harry had been getting updates from Gemma apparently Hattie had the tiniest bump which more looked like she was bloated but only they knew it was their spud.
He tried to type her a message several times and gave up. He just kept looking at that photo he went onto twitter to see what his fans were saying. He knew Jeff would come over and try and come up with a plan to diffuse the situation but he also knew Jeff wouldn’t care as after looking at his fans tweets everyone was speculating he was going to become a Godfather to Aj’s baby all he wanted to tweet was it’s mine. Most people had assumed she had just drunk a few too many and was paying the price. Harry was so wrapped up in his phone he had forgotten that he had invited his mates to the after party including two of his exes Kendall and Camille.
“What you looking at Styles.”
Kendall quickly grabbed his phone away, Kendall had never quite known what was going on between him and Hattie but she herself thought they were meant to be together. Kendall had realised shortly into her fling with Harry that their was another women and she had never disliked Hattie the two had got on well. They were not best friends but that was because they were opposites Kendall and Camille were both slightly vain and their lives were hollywood. Where as, Hattie dreamed differently something Harry found intriguing she hated the spotlight and anything glitz and glam she craved a different lifestyle she loved fighting for people to get their attackers behind bars and helping men and women to prosecute their other halfs for domestic abuse. She didn’t need attention or money she needed to help. Where as, Camille and Kendall spent time and money on the latest clothes to look cool which is something them and Harry had bonded over, Hattie spent most her time around the house in his hoddies or merch. He tried not to compare them to Hattie when he had dated them both as he knew no matter what they would always fall short. Even when Hattie lectured him on the dangers of drug use or how he shouldn’t smoke or allow Camille to smoke in the house because his lungs wouldn’t work very well and he wouldn’t be able to hold the high notes, Hattie was a goody goody in that sense and Harry loved her for that. Now she would save her lectures for court when she realised that her child was better with Aj as a father than this fuck up. He downed his drink to help with the sorrow.
“So Harriet is having fun, wow look her new boyfriend is hot.”
“Of course.”
“Come on Styles you are normally the first to admire a man's good looks.”
“I’d admire them if he had any, she could do better.” Harry grumbled.
“By better do you mean you? I must admit thought you two would finally end up together, I was surprised you and Camille lasted so long didn’t think you could stand to distance yourself from her.”
Harry knew she was right they had cut multiple trips short during there time together because Hattie had a big test or she was stressed or he just missed her.
“I heard my name.”
Camille kissed Harry on the cheek as she joined him and Kendall. Him and Camille were on good terms even though at the end it had hurt but he always knew he was trying to make himself love someone, when that place had already been filed.
“H, why are you so sad you just killed SNL.”
“Capital is saying you’re going to be a Godfather, is that why you’re so sad missed because you missed your shot?”
Kendall exclaimed while looking through the twitter feed.
“Harry wouldn’t care about that. When is she due? I am surprised she didn’t tell you first? Wait is she still living with you?”
Camille fired question after question at him, Camille was lovely and intelligent but she was one of those people who never wanted her ex to move on almost like a power move. In her mind Harry would have never fancied Hattie as he should still be into her. Harry quickly downed his drink he had been trying to stop drinking to fill a void but he was currently failing.
“Styles tell us what’s going on? so we can cheer your miserable ass up and get the fuck out of here and celebrate.”
Harry looked around at all of his friends in the room they were all so Harry and here to congratulate him.
“It’s mine.”
“What’s yours H?”
Camille stroked his arm and glanced at Kendall waiting for her to answer, she normally understood Harry.
“Whats going on over here?”
Jeff joined the group kissing both the girls on the cheek before looking at his mates solomon expression. Harry grabbed another drink of a waiter and downed it. Kendall passed Jeff Harry’s phone.
“Harry mate slow down a bit. I will sort it have you called Hattie made sure she is ok?” Jeff tried to reason knowing that Harry wasn’t handling his transition into parenthood the best mainly due to the baby mumma issues. He also knew one of Harry’s rules was protect Hattie so even though this would blow over in the press it probably wouldn’t have made it there if she hadn’t been friends with Harry or caught with the future CEO of one of the most prestigious law firms in the Country.
“The baby its mine.”
“Wait what?” Camille laughed out not believing him.
“She’s nearly twelve weeks, I am going to be a dad.”
Jeff was busy texting someone probably to get the press under control about Hattie.
“So why is your girlfriend with a random guy at 6am?”
“We aren’t together she doesn’t want me. I screwed it up by ignoring her for other people. Her exact last text was basically said I only want her because I knocked her up.”
“Let’s just have fun H.” Camille gave him and kendall both a glass.
The rest of the night was a blur until he woke up the next morning to five missed calls from Gemma and two from Anne. He could barely open his eyes the hangover was that bad.
“Hey Mum, sorry I was out last night?”
“Harry you need to call Hattie. She is devastated they told her that the no longer required her at the firm. Said the press photo was not a good look for the company having a employee throwing up at 6am outside Starbucks. Apparently clients won’t take her seriously and she did sevre damage ”
“Wait what? Did she say she’s pregnant?”
“Gemma has tried to comfort her but she’s distraught. She did they already knew she thinks that’s why they did it. She said to Gemma is was a possibility.”
“I can’t come home mum I have the late late show and my interview with Apple.”
“Harry you need to do something? Honestly Gemma called me panicked as you weren’t answering Hattie tried to call you of Gemma phone apparently her pregnancy hormones caused her to throw hers at the floor the other day.”
“Mum I am going to go.”
Harry layed there trying to figure out what to say, he couldn’t get out of work these things had been booked for months. Maybe he could convince her to fly out here for a break I mean he was sure his record label could use a solicitor but knew she hates that bit of the law.
“Gemma pass me to Hattie” He cut of his sister hello he was in a rush.
“Hattie, I am so sorry baby. You’re amazing.”
He could hear her hiccuping back her tears this was her dream job she had been through shit to keep this job and now she had lost it thanks to him.
“I wo-r-ked sooo …. Hard Harry.”
She began sobbing again he knew how hard she’d worked. She was a robot at uni trying to get a first and not settling for anything less.
“Hatters baby, come to LA. I have to be here all week but we can figure stuff out ok. I promise I will make you feel better.”
“I can’t even get drunk to numb this pain.”
Harry chuckled a drunk Hattie was a scary sight .
“Get on a plane now I will pick you up myself we will get ice cream and cake or anything spud will stomach.”
“I can’t Aj said he could get me a interview at his dads, In the family law section it’s not perfect but it’s something. I was really helping people though H they took it away because of spud. I am not going to resent spud though it’s not his fault or hers. It’s his mummy’s for being a whore.”
“Hattie what the fuck? You are not a whore.”
“That’s what twitter is saying and the people at work said I get around.”
She began crying again and selfishly all he cared about was the fact that she would be working with Aj and that made his blood boil. He also still had the hangover from hell and was struggling to not vomit.
“When is this interview?” He calmly asked so to not upset her.
“Later today.”
“Ok after I will book a flight this evening. You need a little break we can spend the rest of the week together I only have to work today and tomorrow. I can selffishly get my best friend back and hopefully you will feel a bit better.”
“I think I like that, I am sorry for being a bitch recently it’s hormones and also I couldn’t hold in my feelings.”
“We can talk when you get here.”
Hattie was annoyed with herself for apologising she was still mad at him but she wanted him bad. She had the interview and Aj had helped her a lot they had offered her a job and she was so thankful for Aj. If not she would be a pregnant singleish mum with no money at least she lived with Harry so she wouldn’t be on the street. She was excited to start next week mainly because Emily had been distant with her recently so Aj was all she had friends wise who wasn’t somehow linked to Harry. She had packed light for LA not wanting to take a lot as the morning sickness had made her feel very weak. She was surprised that she was willingly seeing Harry but she needed to. They had never spent this long without constant communication she was also excited for him to hold her as she still couldn’t believe she had lost her job and managed to get a new one in a 24hour period I guess it goes to show how important it is to know the right people.
She spent the whole flight passed out in front of the toilet or with her head down it being sick. She was convinced this baby hated her.
Bump and Dumps Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
#Harry Styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles imagines#harry styles fanfction#one direction#one direction fanfiction
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☂ want it 0:0 at worst | jinkook | t+ | 1,426w 10 genre ficlet challenge: 3. crack/(crude!!) humour—jinkook basically an extended dick joke because dick jokes are the epitome of comedy
❀
It has been one day since Jungkook has been told to eat a dick and zero days since he has eaten a dick. Conversely, it has been zero days since Seokjin has both been told to and eaten a dick. This scoreboard is kept on a little magnetic white board stuck to the door of their refrigerator where anyone who walks into their apartment can see it. Consequently, upon seeing this board, their friends gag violently and either throw themselves onto the couch or out the door.
But that sounds like their problem.
This is all beside the point. The point is that Jungkook has a reputation to keep, a personal goal to maintain. This is why when he rolls out of bed, stumbles into the kitchen to get a glass of water, and sees the ‘one day ago’ in his Go Eat A Dick column, he knows what he must do. He downs half the glass, gargles with the rest, and hums do re mi on his way back to their room.
When Seokjin drew up the scoreboard it was with the intention of encouraging Jungkook to be less of a little shit. Sadly, for Seokjin, it only encourages Jungkook to go above and beyond in his efforts, which in turn encourages Seokjin, and now they’re both insufferable.
If Seokjin really wanted Jungkook to return to his average levels of shittiness then he would take down the scoreboard. Instead he encourages Jungkook half the time and laughs over it all the time. This is partially his fault.
He eases the door open and slinks into bed as quietly as he can. Usually, Jungkook sleeps after Seokjin and wakes up after him, so it’s a wonder to see Seokjin still asleep. That means Seokjin must be goddamn tired, and he’s going to hate Jungkook for waking him up. Perfect. Jungkook presses himself against Seokjin’s back, leans over his shoulder to trail a finger through his hair at his nape and licks his ear, which has Seokjin whining and trying to shake him off.
“It’s Friday,” Jungkook says quietly, and when Seokjin hums in response he continues, “do you have work today?”
It’s quiet save for the hum of the air conditioner and the sound of Seokjin’s breathing evening out. It sounds like Seokjin’s asleep again until he sucks in a breath and rasps, “Sadly.”
“Then you’re late.” Seokjin huffs and mumbles some plan to shirk the blame, so Jungkook gets comfortable on Seokjin and starts singing in his ear, “How can you see into my eyes like open doors?”
Seokjin groans immediately and hisses, “Amy Lee sings it so much better,” which means Jungkook is successfully pissing him off and waking him up. Jungkook continues.
To Seokjin’s credit, he diligently ignores Jungkook’s prodding and singing, right up until the chorus when Jungkook takes a deep breath. Seokjin’s eyes fly open on cue and Jungkook rolls onto Seokjin, effectively trapping and crushing him into the bed with his weight, yelling into his ear, “Wake me up!”
Seokjin thrashes and cusses him out, but Jungkook clings to him until Seokjin spits out the magic words, “Eat a dick, I fucking hate you-” Seokjin’s voice catches in his throat as he twists suddenly, fitting his palm against Jungkook’s face with a great huff but pushing weakly. “Get off me!” He manages to shake Jungkook off because Jungkook is too busy laughing to stop him. The irritation flushes Seokjin’s skin red, from the high of his cheeks to the plane of his chest, and, and- How could he yell all that in one breath then throw himself from the bed to the bathroom in such a smooth rage?
Five minutes later Seokjin has locked Jungkook out of the bathroom and Jungkook erases the one from the board, replacing it with a perfectly rounded zero. His eyes burn and try to glue themselves shut as he shivers in the kitchen’s 6am cold, but he already feels accomplished for the day.
❀
When Seokjin strides into the kitchen, feeding his agent some elaborate (unbelievable) lie that perfectly explains why he’ll be ten minutes late then shoving his phone into his pocket, Jungkook is sitting on the counter that's only warm because it's absorbing half of his body heat, swinging his legs as he slurps the last of his cereal.
“Just cereal for breakfast?”
“The breakfast of champions.”
“Not under this roof,” Seokjin leans in for a kiss, stealing one when Jungkook makes a face over the cereal comment. “Get something else later.”
“What about you, think I don’t know how often you skip?” Exhibit A: right now. Seokjin is going to be out the door within ten minutes.
“I always make up for it, Kookie. I get paid to look good.”
“You always look good,” Jungkook huffs, pressing his mouth to Seokjin’s hard enough that their teeth knock together painfully; Seokjin hisses but doesn’t pull away. That wasn’t the intent so Jungkook makes up for it with careful pecks to Seokjin’s bottom lip, both lips, the corner of his mouth. “Do you have a shoot today?”
“Yeah.” Jungkook twists his face into the ugliest frown he can muster and Seokjin almost doubles over, which would have led to him dunking his beautiful face into Jungkook’s beautiful bowl of cereal. That would be such a good look; if that's not a runway look, what is? Seokjin catches himself with a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder and his whole face smooths out with his big, breathtaking smile that leaves Jungkook feeling like a lost, lovestruck boy all over again. “Don't make that face. It'll be fine.”
“Better be,” Jungkook means to sound every bit as petulant as it comes out, but Seokjin just laughs and slides his hand from Jungkook’s shoulder up along his neck to push his fingers into Jungkook’s hair, curling and uncurling them against his nape over and over. Jungkook leans into the warmth of his hand as much as he can. He almost forgets about his cereal. “They think I can't find them? I'm the best sniper I know.”
“Of course you are.”
Jungkook fixes Seokjin with a sharp look and Seokjin cocks a brow. “I am.”
“Don't worry your pretty little head. Yoongi’s in charge of today's shoot.” That's promising. Jungkook breaks into a grin, just thinking of messing with Yoongi makes him want to retract maybe a fraction of his threats. Only a minuscule fraction because messing with Yoongi is fun. Seokjin ruffles his hair then taps him on his forehead. “See? It'll be as fine as can be.”
“Okay, okay. Get your ass to work.”
“Not without my goodbye kiss,” Seokjin somehow puckers his lips mid-sentence so Jungkook pinches his nose and presses a quick kiss to his lips before letting go with a grin. Seokjin rubs his nose and jams the thumb of his free hand into the corner of Jungkook’s grin. “Good enough, brat.”
Jungkook only grins wider. His cheeks hurt with it and Seokjin’s thumb slides into his mouth so Jungkook bites it the way any loving boyfriend would. Seokjin pulls his hand away, wiping the spit off his thumb on his jeans, and Jungkook snorts. “Get outta here, old man.”
“Love you, li’l shit.” Seokjin glides towards the door, all grace, stopping only to look at their scoreboard and flip Jungkook off. “Change that zero to a minus one because you can go eat a dick instead of that damn cereal.”
“Math almost sucks as much as you do.” Jungkook brings his bowl to his mouth to slurp some milk and Seokjin rolls his eyes, grabbing his bag and pulling the door open. “Bye, baby. Love you too,” Jungkook finishes and Seokjin flashes him a grin as he shuts the door.
This is unheard of. Waking up before Seokjin and earning two points in the same morning? Is Jungkook, like, a god now? He deserves a reward. He’s going to lie in bed all day and play Seokjin’s MapleStory file because Seokjin is selfish and over-levelled.
Half an hour later Jungkook’s phone beeps like a Mario power-up and when he pauses the game he sees a message from Seokjin flash onscreen:
I'm serious. Order takeout or smth. Btw do u want bbq for dinner?
Suddenly, replying to this text is incredibly important: Bbq and smth else ;)Two seconds later Seokjin responds with: Deleting u.
That period means Seokjin is serious. Wait!! I can change, pls :”(
Sry bby break’s over. Go eat.Actual food.
Fine. Always so bossy. Loving, but bossy. Love u 2. ♡
#jinkook#featuring jungkook's rendition of bring me to life#crude humour crude language crude everything#10 genre ficlet challenge#bts fic#there's no point to this flash fic it's just jungkook being seokjin's fake-screamo alarm#also disclaimer i do not think dick jokes are the epitome of comedy i know nothing about comedy thank you#vanilla.txt
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