#angel fumbled personally I think

[pycth]

Big stretch :)

Was simply in my missing Michael hours last night<3

Bonus—

[hoshigray]

𝐍𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐲 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲, 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐅@#𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲!? | suguru getō

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Next time you wanna do something nice for your boyfriend, how about making sure he doesn’t see the package – let alone OPEN it! – before you? Especially if it’s something with bunny ears…!

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! you and Geto are college sweethearts - implied that you and Geto are early 20s - lingerie + bunny outfit - oral (m! receiving) - anal fingering (f! receiving) - use of an anal toy; butt plug - backshots/doggy style + deep impact positions - impact play (spanking) - clitoral play - praise - finger sucking - cervix fucking - unprotected sex (psa: don't be silly; wrap the willy) - pet names (angel, baby, bunny girl, little bunny, good girl, my love, princess, sweet baby, sweetie) - cameos: Utahime, Mei Mei, and Gojo - reader is very shy but is trying their best! - kind of freaky! Geto awakening, lmao - humor - mention of drool/spit and tears - will be proofread l8r.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.2k (sigh..)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: based on this ask!! haven't done a suguru fic in a long while so ehh, why not? && tysm for 8.8k, my loves xoxo

“…”

Oh no.

“…Well,”

I have to be dreaming…

“Needless to say, I brought your package inside, Y/n.”

THERE’S NO WAY!!!

Being an introvert can have its trivial times; you should know that. Looking back on your life, you can’t seem to say you had the drive to stand out, an expertise you regret not putting effort into. You couldn’t do it; you’ve tried but to no avail! Going out of your comfort zone is too scary, shivering or freezing on the spot whenever you’re being spoken to or fumbling with words when trying to make a point. Man, it’s so embarrassing! It sucks — you’re a grown adult, and yet you can barely get through any gathering without anxiety rattling your bones.

Some are good at talking with others or are lucky enough to be naturally blessed with a social spirit. Some people like your boyfriend, for example. 

Yes, you have a boyfriend. 

Suguru Geto, your partner, wasn’t a complete extrovert. Honestly, he’s comfortable keeping to himself if he could choose. After meeting you, he preferred dates when you visit each other’s dormitories and enjoy each other’s company. However, compared to you, his people-pleasing skills outclassed yours unquestionably. Geto knew how to talk, drawing people in with his mellow tone and inviting aura. He was good at mingling and making everyone feel comfortable around him. You were a victim to it, lured in by his charm and soft ambiance.

He was terrific, a role model to you. How he would efficiently put himself out there while you stayed close in his shadow never failed to inspire you. The way he spoke, how he listened intently to others’ concerns, and his maturity seen as a dependable figure to lean on. It’s absurd to think that such a marvelous man fell in love with you and asked to court you.

You and Geto have dated since your junior year of college; what you once thought would be a tiny crush on one of the school’s notorious heartthrobs became your first and longest-running relationship! How did that happen!? You couldn’t tell; one moment, you two were paired up for an end-of-semester project, and he managed to have you relax and talk with him daily. The next thing you know, he’s asking you to live with him in his apartment the second you finish graduation. Now, you two have been a couple for nearly half a decade. It’s unbelievable to think about.

But even with how long you two have been together, there are moments where you feel as though you weren’t doing your part. Being in a relationship is such a hurdle for an awkward person, aka you, such as going stiff whenever old friends of Suguru pop up and greet him or him inviting you along to parties only for you to stay glued to a corner in silence. You felt as though you were…boring? Dull? Deadweight!? The list goes on, and the guilt never tires you out.

And Geto – God bless him – has repeatedly expressed and assured you that you didn’t have to feel as such. His alluring purple eyes and soothing voice vouch that he doesn’t mind standing in as your sponsor and speaking for you, and you are eternally grateful to the stars above for gracing a loving and understanding boyfriend your way. Nonetheless, the stress that churns your stomach doesn’t go away. He’s always been the one to voice for you, attend to you, and look out for you. Hell, even in the bedroom, he’s doing most of the work. Again, he’s never complained nor seems to ever will, but still!

He’s done so much for you, and you want to meet him at least halfway and make him feel appreciated. So, you took matters into your own hands and decided to do something special for your man!

Here was the plan: going out and buying stuff meant talking to people, and talking meant letting strangers know about your business; merely thinking about it had you trembling a storm. So yeah, nope. You went on the Internet and found sites catering to your search. You can’t say you were the type to wear anything risqué, especially in the bedroom. So, you dialed up your two best friends, Mei Mei and Shoko, to help you find stuff that they thought would look nice for you to wear.

Luckily, they came in clutch and found something for a beginner like you! It’s not something you’d wear in public—you’d rather die—but it’s a good start when implementing new things into your lifestyle. You added the item to your cart, purchased it, and waited silently for your package to arrive. To say you were anxious about this new step of adulthood was on the nail, but you beamed with glee once you got the notification that your bundle would be delivered today!

Before then, you decided to nap and wait for the item to be delivered to your apartment door. You woke up to that once you saw the notice on your phone, yawning your way out of the shared bedroom to retrieve it.

However, what you saw as you entered the living room stopped you dead in your tracks, and your eyes widened with absolute horror.

What you should have accounted for was that today was a Thursday, meaning Geto would usually come home from work on weekdays. So, while you were snoring in the comfort of your blanket, your boyfriend was the first to see a mysterious box with your name on it at his doorstep. And to add more salt to the wound, you caught him in the act unboxing the package and inspecting its contents, and you’re too shocked to fall on your knees at what he has in his hands.

Geto sat on the living room couch, the box perched on the coffee table opened with the wrappings decorating the brown table surface. His eyes find your figure to latch onto, but yours honed on what he was inspecting. In his right hand was a black lacy top meant to be worn around a chest—the other holding onto a headband with bunny ears of velvet material. 

This is where we lay our current scene; astounded, you could only stand in place — like Geto — at the sight before you. And with every passing second, you wanted nothing but to explode into bits. Your boyfriend had found your package and opened it!

Of course, you’d be stammering your words! “W-Where did you get that!?” What a silly question; where else would he have gotten it, dumbass?

Nonetheless, the dark-haired man answers after a forced cough. “Well, umm, I saw it at the door coming from work. I brought it in and was going to let you know, but you were asleep, and I…didn’t wanna bother you.”

“Why did you open it if you knew it was mine??”

Geto raised his hands defensively, still holding onto the items. “I–I’m sorry! I thought it was something different, like the cute glass cups you liked and ordered last week. I figured I would set those up on your behalf. I had no idea it would be something…” Your feet suddenly felt heavy, watching your boyfriend scan the lace top. “Like this.”

Any attempt to fight the mini shakes of your knees was impractical, and your throat was going so dry that you were scared to swallow.

“This doesn’t seem like something you would buy; could someone have accidentally sent this with the wrong information?” He inquires with furrowed brows. “Better not be some fucked up prank or whatever.”

“N-No, it’s, I…” Fuck, this had to be the worst scenario to admit this. “….I did mean to buy it.”

Have you ever had those moments where people would look at you after saying something that you wish you hadn’t? You indeed hated those moments; they made you feel so scrutinized by the public judging you. And seeing your man’s eyes widen and his expression morphed his lips to a small “o” shape? Oh, you couldn’t breathe adequately.

“You bought,” your quivering lips worsen when his left wrist flicks with the bunny-eared headband. “This?”

Your hands come to your face, shielding yours from his as you silently squat down with the weight of your humiliation. The shakes rock your entire frame, and you can sense your tears forming. This officially was the worst day ever; out of all the dilemmas that could happen, why did it have to be the worst one of all?!? Your partner had found out about the out-of-the-norm purchase you made without you present to explain yourself first. Now he probably thinks he’s dating some freak into weird shit. Can this day get any worse!?!

You wanted to cry, hoping the floor beneath you would give way and ingest you out of this cold, cruel world. But alas, you’re still here and can hear the footsteps approaching your crouching state, and you jolt when Geto embraces you.

“Y/n,” God, why did he say your name like that? His tone was smooth like honey, and he rubbed your back as he brought you closer. “It’s okay, baby. I didn’t mean to judge you or anything; I was just curious, is all. Sorry, I opened your package without letting you know, okay?… Ahh, did I make my sweet angel cry?” Raven brows scrunched together at the view of you burrowing into his chest more. “Aww, Y/n, I’m sorry…”

Yes, you were indeed sniffling into his sweatshirt. Although, it’s not that he opened your stuff without your consent that upset you the most. You whine while moving your face, “I just…wanted to do something different.”

“Hmm?” Geto’s hand doesn’t stop rubbing your back, speaking to you in a low mode. “What’s the reason, sweetie?”

“Because, well,” you chewed the inside of your cheek as they warmed. “I just felt like I wasn’t…Like—sigh, you’ve done so much for me in this relationship, and I’m so lucky to have you as my boyfriend. But I feel like I don’t do my part as I should, you know?” Nothing is said from the other, so you continue. “I just–sniff–want you to know that I appreciate you and all you’ve done, although I didn’t know if my words would do me justice. So, I, uhh,” your thumbs find their way to fiddle with themselves. “I asked Shoko and Mei Mei for help and bought…..this to wear for you.”

Three seconds pass without saying anything, then six. At ten seconds, the silence suffocates you and probes your unease more and more. 

However, his chest’s sudden rise and fall startles you, along with his pleasant laughter. “So that’s what this is all about, huh?” Your body’s rigid compared to his lively motion. “My angel was gonna doll up for me?”

“Yeah, and you ruined it!” You fuss, your cute teary face all hot and puffy as you complain. “I just wanted to do something special for you after I finally muster up the courage to go out of my comfort zone and do something nice and…well, sexy,” you cringed internally at the final word. Yet, it was true. 

Geto hums through your explanation. “You’re always sexy to me.”

“That’s not the point!” He laughs at your remark, the sound filling you with warmth. “I–…I’m different compared to you. Whenever we’re out, you’re so much more social than me; I feel like I’m a burden or make it seem I need you to watch over me or something…And I know you’ve said you’re okay with it and don’t mind, but it’s….sniff–I don’t know, like I’m putting more on your plate when it’s more of a ‘me’ problem…”

Your eardrums pick up low chuckles. Then, like the Prince Charming he is, Geto uses his hand to bring your chin up. Your face warms up at his handsome face in your vicinity. “Baby, although I appreciate you going out your way to do something for me—believe me, I could jump over the moon right now—you don’t have to go outside what’s comfortable to you to impress me or anything.”

“But I—“

“I mean it; I really don’t mind that I have to be some voucher for you. It’s not a burden; that’s just who you are. And if that’s the case, you’re too cute as hell the way you are.” You didn’t see his small smile grow because your eyes bashfully averted away from his gaze. “Now, if you want to build your confidence, don’t be afraid to ask me for help, okay? No need to force yourself to change up for the sake of ‘appeasing’ me or feel as though you’re not fitting whatever bullshit mold of an appropriate partner you’re expected to be.”

“Suguru…”

“Y/n,” your name pierces your heart like an arrow as his hand prompts your face back to him; God, he’s so dreamy. “I like you no matter what. You’re my princess; your troubles are my troubles. I’d tell you long ago that you’re bothersome if it wasn’t. But you’re not, so don’t put too much weight on yourself. Promise not to stress yourself over this, okay?” He boops your nose, “Remember: communication is key, right?”

Once again, you’re reminded how lucky you are to have such a man like Suguru Geto to court you. So understanding and attentive to your feelings and wrapping you in his blanket of love constantly makes it hard not to fall in love all over again. Chewing your bottom lip doesn’t even help the heat of your cheeks creeping onto your ears. 

“You’re right,” you almost melt under his lips as he kisses your forehead. “I promise.”

“Good girl,” your heart skips a beat. “But what are we gonna do with all this?” He points to the open package with his chin. “Now I feel kinda bad for having you buy this for me and ruining the special occasion.”

Wincing at the box, you remove yourself from Geto’s embrace to inspect the contents. “Honestly, looking at them in real time, I regret buying them. I’ll return them tomorrow or Monday, seeing I don’t necessarily need—”

“Woah, woah,” you stop in your tracks at your boyfriend’s exclamation. “Why are you returning them?” 

Huh? “Well, I mean, there’s no need for them, no? It was meant to be a surprise.”

“Yeah, but you already spent so much money for my sake. Plus,” Geto picks up the bunny ear headband from the package. “If this is what you were gonna wear for me, then it would be kind of upsetting if I didn’t see you wear it at least once.”

Oh, God, no. “S–Suguru, it’s totally fine; I can just—“ Oh no, he’s looking at you with that face, his eyebrows slightly trenched with a minuscule sad glint in his expression. Your stomach was doing flips out of guilt and concern, and the formidable gets worse when he asks the following:

“Y/n,” you swallow spit thickly as the man dangles the headband around. “Would you please wear this tonight?”

The question nails you to the ground, frozen in place as it rings within your mind. You? Wearing this for tonight?! “N–No, I can’t!!”

“Why not? You bought it to be worn!”

“Yes, but t-that was before you looked through my package and didn’t give me the chance to try it on myself!” When you thought your face couldn’t get any hotter than before, the embarrassment of this predicament humbles you. “And thanks to you—“

“T-Thanks to me??”

“—I don’t wanna wear it anymore!!”

Geto raises his other hand in defense. “Okay, okay! Look, I’m sorry; it’s my bad. But, to be honest, I’m thrilled that you went out of your way to think of doing something for me out of nowhere, and as I’m looking at this outfit,” He glances at the rest of the materials in the box. “I think you’d look beautiful and hot in it.” You can’t tell if your heart is thumping from his words or because you’re about ten seconds away from combusting. “So…One night to test it out, yeah? And if you surely don’t like it, then you can ship it back tomorrow.”

He’s so good at that, using his charm and words to shade you into rational thought. You take a huge breath and exhale through stressed nostrils, and your wish to dig a hole and rot away increases. 

Of course, you bought the items to treat your boyfriend for something out of the norm; that was the entire point of the plan! But what is the use of following a plan when you’ve let your guard down, and the element of surprise backfires in a way that you had foolishly unforeseen?! There’s no way you could put that stuff on you now that you’ve been exposed. Absolutely not!

“I think you’d look beautiful and hot in it…”

And yet, Geto’s words repeat like a broken record, each time making you as timid as the last. He wants to see you wear what you had bought, so eager to marvel at his partner adorning such risqué clothing that you don’t comprehend how you put said purchase in your cart! The thought of wearing such a thing in front of your man bubbles an excitement that is borderline frightening yet new; picturing his expressions and imagining his compliments is dangerous for your brain to form a headache.

But not as dangerous as the slight friction of your inner thighs pressing close to each other.

With a stare downcast and fidgeting thumbs, you ask, “…Just for tonight?” 

And Geto assures you with a nod.

“Only for tonight.” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Geto sat on the bed in silence, listening to the ticks of the bedroom clock on the wall as he waited patiently.

As you two entered the bedroom, the man found his place on the bed, a still figure in the dimly lit room. You, on the other hand, made a beeline straight towards the bathroom. “Wait here…D-Don’t peek inside!” You commanded him, your voice betraying a hint of shyness. He obeyed, settling on top of the comforter.

Minutes soon went to double digits; nervousness wasn’t something that usually struck Geto. But the more he sat on the bed and listened to your mutters behind the door–distancing the two–the more he couldn’t help but feel an itch to worry for you. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

“Y–Yes!” That didn’t sound convincing… “I’ll be out in just a second!”

“Okay…”

And so he waited for a minute. Which turned to two minutes…Three…..

Anticipation transitioned to unease, calling out to you once more. “Y/n?” No answer; not a good sign. The tall man gets up and strides to knock on the bathroom door. “Baby? Everything alright?” Nothing, even if he knocks on the white surface again.

CREAAAAK…!

But his frets are handled once he hears the sound of the door opening slowly. He steps back to make way for the person on the other side of the door, and lo and behold, you stand.

There are things in Geto’s life that never cease to amaze him—you being one of them. From the moment he saw you, he swore that in his life, there had never been something that looked so mesmerizing and captured his eye in an instant, and Gojo and Shoko are always sure to tease the guy for such a confession. And the time you reciprocated his feelings and accepted being his domestic other half, words could not describe the elation his poor heart couldn’t handle. 

Right now, he is experiencing those same feelings when he’s with you. His expectations were blown out of the water once you entered the plane again.

Your face was the first thing he looked to, a sheepish yet cute expression that went with the adorable white bunny ear headband you adorned at the top of your head. Your casual attire had been withdrawn to the bathroom tiles, substituted with the outfit you had been fussing about until now. Your chest harbored a black lacy negligee with intricate designs that had Geto’s purple eyes dance and trace around; the faint drapes of the gown cascaded down to your upper thighs, yet your underwear could still be seen. It matched the lacy black thong that made your boyfriend gulp thickly at how gorgeous your hips looked–not to mention the tiny bow at the top center. And to complete the look, black stockings come up your knees.

“…”

There is silence between you and him. The only sound you can use to distract yourself is the beat of your heart.

“…”

But the longer you wait for a response, the louder the rhythm. 

“…”

The lack of his voice was killing you – eating you alive – and you’re sure that you’re bound to faint if this kept going. Did I wear it wrong? Do I look weird?! Oh God, please say some— 

“Y/n”

You squeaked. “Y-Yes?”

“Can you please,” Geto takes a few steps closer, enough for his hands to come around your waist and pull you in. You almost choke on the air. “Remind me to thank Mei Mei and Shoko first thing tomorrow, okay?”

“Wh–What the—What does that mean—?”

“You look amazing.” Three simple words have you still. “Like, seriously. Hold on, let me get a good look at you.” He leans around to look at the details of your sides, and your brain short circuits when he moves behind you and lifts the negligee to see the rear of your panties. What is happening… “Holy shit, this suits you so well.”

“Re…Really?”

“Really.” You can see the sincerity in his gaze as he surveys every physical thing about you. “I’m so tempted to grab my phone to take a picture.”

“Oh my God, please don’t!!” Your frightened hands grab his sweatshirt with a vigorous grip, contrasting the trembling owner. “Don’t take a picture, please!!”

“I won’t, I won’t!” the dark-haired partner assures you through a fit of laughter, his warm, slender hands finding your fists and pounding him. Again, you are frozen stiff when he kisses your temple. “Besides, I prefer not sharing something as beautiful with anyone else.”

You don’t know how many compliments you can take before spiraling into a puddle. “You really do like it.”

“I love it,” another kiss to your cheek while his hands now find purchase on your waist. Oxygen suddenly feels foreign when you’re so close to him to pick up the cologne on his clothes. “It looks so much better now that you’re wearing it. You really know how to spoil me, huh, angel.”

Was it him being spoiled right now or you? How he spoke to you had your heart racing uncontrollably since you left the bathroom. You’ve been a complete nervous wreck from the moment your friends probed you to buy this outfit up until now, and now you can honestly feel that you’re feeling a sense of glee wearing it because your boyfriend likes it so much. Regrets no longer linger in your bones, goosebumps calm down on your skin, and you hum as you return the embrace. 

That is…until you feel something pressed against you. Something….hard.

Curiosity sprinkles your pretty little head until it snaps and your hips sway to experiment. A subtle jolt rocks Geto—confirming your hypothesis.

“Su..Suguru…” You don’t know why, but the following words felt prohibited to leave your lips. “Is that—“

“Hnnm…Sorry,” he purrs abjectly. “Guess I got a little too excited.” He lifts his head from your shoulder to look at you, and your stomach churns at the sight of his stare, holding a misty, lustful glint. You don’t even mention his hands silently moving to cup your ass. “Is that too much, baby?”

Violet eyes latched with yours make you shiver, suppressing a gasp when he throws a slick rut to grind the tent of his dark sweatpants on you. “N–No!” You squeaked, feeling small when his smile got broader.

“So sweet like always,” a chaste, gentle kiss to your lips feels like clouds. He then steps back out of your arms, pulling down his sweats to reveal the erection contained by the boxer briefs. Geto sits on the edge of the bed and tilts his head. “So, will my sweet bunny girl care for me tonight?” Seeing you gawk at him, he stifles a chuckle, and it takes a good mental slap to bring you back to reality. A few seconds pass, and you finally build up the courage to walk forward and crouch between his spread legs. 

Mini prayers replay in your brain as your hand hesitantly touches the clothed shaft, the firmness of it getting stiffer and stiffer as your fingers touch thoroughly. When you’re ready, you bring the hem of his underwear down, welcoming his cock to the open air for it to intimidate you with its girth. Precum trails from the urethra, traveling down from the corona, foreskin, and underside. God, it’s been a while since you were up close and personal with this thing; its sheer size is enough to reconsider the regret you threw out minutes ago. Too late now, though.

Come on, Y/n, you use your inner thoughts to motivate you. You’re doing this for Suguru; don’t chicken out now! So, you bring your lips to meet the head of his cock, earning a hum from the man above. Blowjobs have never been your forte; again, it’s been a while since you’ve had his cock near anything outside of your lower regions. But today was different as you used your tongue to lick the lip of the cockhead, the salty flavor of his fluid teasing your tastebuds. And with the sounds of him whimpering, you begin to remember the routine as the seconds go. Your mouth takes in his tip with hollowed cheeks, and your hands grasp around the shaft before you glide up and down.

“Hahhhh, yes, sweetie,” Geto soothed, biting his lip at the display of you pleasing him with your plump lips. “Just like that…Nnngh…!” His words fuel more confidence in your motion, using this to move to the next step and take in as much of his shaft as you can. You don’t go all the way to the hilt–a task that you’re afraid will have you choking– but once you reach halfway, your head starts to bob up and down at a gradual pace. Black brows furrow at the movement; fuck, you felt so good for him. So nice and warm on his dick; he wouldn’t mind having his whole evening dedicated to this. “Fuck, my love, loosen your jaw for me…Mmmm, good girl, that’s it. Keep sucking like that.”

It’s not before long that you find the groove; albeit sucking on Geto amateurishly, he places a hand on your head, which you can only assume is that you’re doing a decent job. Saliva coats the limb busying your oral cavity, mixing with the excess come that escapes and spreads with your lips going to and fro. Your tongue goes on to flick and lap on his tip some more, evoking the hottest moans you’ve ever heard from him. And while you stroke his member, your free hand finds his scrotum and massages the pair in unison, a buck of his hips as your thumb presses down on the testicles with a curl. Your bobbing becomes frequent, a mediocre cadence that has your partner throw his head back. The veins scraping along the upper walls of your mouth are too erotic for your mind to comprehend

“Shiiiit, I can’t—Nnnmm!” He hisses before he cups your wet cheeks. “You’re doing so good, princess.”

Your eyes open and peer to the person talking above you. With a soft ‘pop,’ you release his length before placing sloppy kisses and licks. “Yew fink shoow?” You speak with a mouthful of his dick to his frenulum, humoring the dark-haired man.

“Yes, little bunny,” he teases, and you can sense the throbs between your legs getting worse after referring to you with that title. “Wait, I just remembered something…Hold on, lie on the bed for me.”

You’re gently pushed off him as Geto stands up from the bed, confused. You take your place atop the bed, and he grabs something from his sweatpants and heads into the bathroom. The sound of running water from the sink fills the silence before it’s shut off. He then returns to the bedroom holding a bottle of lube you’re familiar with in one hand, and the other with a wet, metal…fluffy…looks like a kind of—

Eyes shoot wide open when you finally register what he’s holding, and the anxiety hits you like a punch to haunt you. “Wh–W-Where did y-you get that?!”

“I saw that you left this in the box before dressing up,” no, you didn’t forget a damn thing. You deliberately avoided the very item that Geto was holding because looking at it was embarrassing enough; it would be horrifying to have this in the same room as you now! Between his thumb and forefinger was a metal butt plug–a small one, nothing too major–with what appeared to be a white fluff ball at the end. It’s meant to be worn with what you wore, but these bunny ears already trampled your dignity. Adding an anal toy to the frey might as well have you sign up for assisted suicide! “I figured we needed it to complete the look.”

“N-No! No, no, no, absolutely not!” Rejections fly out of your system. “That’s too much!”

Geto blinks. “You think so? It’s pretty small from what I’ve seen.”

You’ve seen these before!?!? “Even then, I don’t wanna—“

“Didn’t you see this with the set before you bought it?”

You almost choked on your tongue. “W-Well…Y-Yes, but,” your thumbs find themselves fidgeting, anything to distract the humiliation that overshadows your nervous state. “That doesn’t mean I wanted to…wear it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s—” embarrassing as hell! A bunny tail as a butt plug!? Just kill me!! “—It’s…..It’ll look weird on me.”

Oh, how you didn’t know how much of a switch that flipped for Geto, the other quietly thought to himself before speaking again. “Y/n,” you perked at the mention of your name. “Turn around for me.” Chewing on your lips, you shook your head—you knew what he was doing. “C’mon, now, I thought you were my sweet girl.” You flatten your lips when he comes close to squeeze your cheeks. “Please? Wear this for me, my little bunny?” 

Oh, for God’s sake, this night was getting more challenging to get through with the hour. Inner dialogue can’t even bring you to a consensus, as your conscience is getting in the way of coming to a decision. On the one hand, you feel as though you’re venturing out of your comfort zone enough, wearing this flustering nightgown and these damn bunny ears. Yet, at the same time, this isn’t about you; this is all meant to be for your partner, something entirely out of the norm to make him feel special. And you being reluctant to accept his wishes is just pushing you back to square one and defeating the purpose of this entire dilemma, right? 

Your hands find your face to shield, releasing a long sigh that should have stretched to your final days. Nonetheless, you slump your arms down in defeat, and a short nod is given: “.......okay.”

Without being told again, you feebly follow Geto’s request and turn around. Your lower half is the only thing in his line of sight. Your lips can’t stop quivering in such a position, and breathing becomes arduous once you feel your boyfriend’s weight dent the mattress. You jolt when his hand comes to the top of your laced thong, bringing the material down to expose the bare skin of your ass to him. Damn it! A pillow within your proximity is brought to your face, using it to hide yourself from the world.

However, “Aww, don’t be so shy on me, baby,” Slender fingers faintly brush from your spine down to the very crevice of your bottom, making your body shudder. “Shouldn’t be hiding that pretty face from me.” The sound of your gasp, when his lubed fingers teeter around your rear entrance, ignites a flame, and now he has a thirst he’s itching to indulge with. “Shhhh, breathe, my love. Gonna go real nice and slow for you, okay?”

The pillow muffles your moans as Geto begins to push one finger inside your puckered hole slightly. The stretch of the digit is a pain you have never experienced, making you whimper like a poor babe. Your boyfriend coaxes you through it, adding more lube to ease your ass as his finger goes back and forth to prepare you. Adding another finger causes you to shake your head, and your entrance accommodates the insertions, whether you like it or not.

A full minute or more passes where your ass is played with, and Geto smoothes you with a rub of your buttcheeks as he removes his digits out of your lubed hole. “Now, time to test this out…” A sudden chill has your arch, and the cold metal of the butt plug has you clamping involuntarily, yet the raven-haired partner reminds you to relax your body while he pushes the toy inside you. It doesn’t invade with the snap of the finger; thirty seconds in, and your butthole is slowly but surely adapting to the alien plaything. And before you know it, you feel the whole thing finally be swallowed into your rear walls; you grip the pillow as your mouth releases silent cries. 

“Haaah…I-Is it in?” You lifted your head to inquire. 

“Yes, angel,” he playfully smacks your ass, and you jerk at the unexpected contact. “Damn, now you look all cute and sexy with this on.” Geto then shifts to stand on his knees before maneuvering above you, removing the pillow from beneath you so you can’t hide yourself from him any longer. And more trembles crawl all over your body when you feel his solid cock create friction on the rift of your ass. “Lift your butt a bit for me,” your hips follow his hands, guiding you upward until you meet his pelvis. “Good girl…Gonna start putting it inside, okay?”

You nod leisurely, grabbing the comforter beneath you as Geto pulls the thong to the side. It’s no surprise to see that your cunt is covered in your slick, the tip of his member queued to kiss your labia. The lascivious man hisses at the sensation, anticipation climbing up as he pushes himself unhurriedly. The same goes for you, your mouth agape with quieted shrieks when the cockhead makes it inside your vagina, gripping the sheets as he slowly pushes more of himself, every inch of his penis becoming greater and greater, inaudible babbles once the base meets your folds.

Geto allows you a couple of seconds to stabilize your breathing, starting with excruciatingly slow thrusts–so painfully slow that you can feel every dent and vein that ventures inward and outward your chasm; it’s hard for your hips not to move on their own. With every pull, your inner walls clench on the shaft as if wanting more as he leaves your warmth. And every push makes you full to the brink of tears, and your brows trenched together as your fists ball the sheets.

“Mmaahh…Nnahaah…!” The brush of your velvety channel feels good within the minute, and the insertion pain is now being replaced with pleasure. Your roll to the ceiling at the graze of your G-spot, the butt plug made your nerves more sensitive with how busy your lower half was. And once he’s warmed up enough, your companion turns up the speed of his ruts. “Taahhh, I, ohhhGod…! Sugu—Oooo!!” Did he just poke your cervix!? You sobbed out loud.

“Nnmm, holy shiiit, you feel so good, sweetie,” Geto moans, taking in the view before him. The lingerie you were wearing gave a beautiful image of your backside, his indigo orbs survey from the muscles of your back to your prompted ass. Holy hell, it was driving him crazy, watching how the flesh of your butt reverberates with the smack of his pelvis. It makes him want to go ever faster, harder. And don’t get him started on the white bunny tail butt plug; shit was too cute to resist and toy with, pulling on the item lightly and turning it around.

The action had your holes clenching simultaneously. “Shh–Shhtop, Suguuu!!” You wailed out, toes curling as he taunted your anus with light pulls and pushes. “D-Don’t do that…!”

“Heh, sorry, my bunny girl,” God, the way he was teasing you was literal hell on Earth with how he’s using your body right now. “You know I can’t help myself when it comes to you…Aiisshh! Fuhuck, you’re squeezing me so hard…Hmm? You like it when I tease you, huh, baby?”

You shook your head no in a rushed manner, the heat of your face already coursing to your ears. But then your frame jerked along with the sound of something, and it was a hand smacking on the skin of your butt.

“Now, don’t be like that,” Geto chuckles above you as you cry. The same hand he used to slap you soothes the blow. “You know you can be honest with me. At least your body is…Don’t you like being close to me like this?” You don’t reply, too busy squealing at another graze of your sensitive spots.  So, he slaps your buttocks once more. “Don’t ignore me, love.”

“—Mmmph! Ahh-hahh, I-I,” You swallow spit before choking on it. “I can’t…Hic, it’s shoh embarrassing…!”

“Aww, is the little bunny still scared?” He then bends down to your ear, a big move on his part as you swear you’re bound to shut down from the closeness. “Hmm? What’s so embarrassing?”

A sluggish pull back before Geto snaps his hips into you harshly, another jab to your cervix practically has you seeing stars. “Hoooh!! Be–Becausee!!” God, it’s so hard to think right now, the pound of your head getting harsher with the increased heat. “Y–You—Ahhaa! Youu make me…s-sound sho dirt—Eeeyahh!” 

“Oh?” He licks your ear before nibbling on the helix. “You don’t like it when I fuck you like this? Don’t like it when I whisper to your ear while you scream for me?” You shake your head no, which is extinguished once Geto stuffs your mouth with his fingers. Your tongue, played with by his fore and middle finger, has you mewling like no tomorrow. “Hmmm, that’s a funny thing to say when your pussy can’t stop twitching on me. Make it seem like you’re not embarrassed to milk my cock dry, huh, princess.” 

“Nnoohh, it’s not—hic—not like that!” A tear trickles down a hot cheek as you suck on his fingers, his thumb there unaware to wipe it. “Don’t say stuff like that…!”

“Why? Too crude for my angel’s ears?” He keeps teasing you, “Even though we’ve fucked lots of times, you still act like such a cutie.”

“Stooop,” Lord have mercy. Any more than this, and you’re bound to melt away sooner rather than later. “D-Don’t tease me…”

He can’t help it, not when you sound so cute and flustered because of him. It makes him think of an idea and straightens himself off of you. But not away from you — he then grabs your leg and rests it on his shoulder while straddling the other, changing the position so you can look at each other. Something a lot more intimate as he goes back to drilling his length into your heat. With a smug grin, he asks, “Is this less embarrassing for you, sweet baby?”

Your heart almost jumped out of your throat; no, this is much worse! Your shrieks returned to erupt out of your figure as Geto’s pace increased. The new angle achieves having his dick venture deeper inside your throbbing channel, pounding to you until the hilt meets your southern lips, and the bump and grind of your clitoris with the motion is enough to have you winded. “—Ohoohh!! Dooahh! N-Nooo, d-don’t look…!” You try to shield your face with your forearm.

Yet Geto instantly refutes that, using his free hand to move it while he bends back down; his added weight has you whining aloud. “Don’t do that,” he groans at the contract of your walls, retaliating with more rough plunges. “No more hiding from me; I wanna see that pretty face always.”

“Suguu, pleasee—Nnnn!” Scrapes to the walls of your vaginal walls are even more dangerous in this position. “T’oo faaast!!”

“Hnngh! FFfuckin’ shit…But you feel so good,” Geto presses his forehead onto yours. “You feel so good, you look so good, like holy fuck! You drive me too crazy; it’s–Ghhh!- just not right how you can make me go wild. I wanna see it all, wanna see how cute you look, how dirty you look, and how fucking hot you sound because of me—and only me.” A kiss to your nose before placing one on the corner of your lips. “Starting now, I wanna see all these sides of you, so don’t hide them from me…” 

You are given no room to reply to his statements as a kiss to your mouth finally seals the deal for tonight. Light pecks gradually dwell into steamy, longing smooches, tongue and teeth classing for intimacy. It’s all it takes for you to sink into his touch finally and the comforter beneath you, submitting to him as he finishes you off.  

Geto then rolls his hips at an erratic cadence, and relentless hits to your cervix have you blubbering helplessly into his lips. Ungovernable throbs around his girth are ineluctable, the climb of your orgasm climbing up tenfold with the brush of your clit up against his pelvis. OhhhGod! It’s coming, I’m gonna—“Mmmmph!”

The peak of your crescendo has you moaning deep into the kiss, your writhing figure submitted to the end of your session as your cunt flutters around Get’s girth as the shocks of the climax rock your entire body. And your contraction is all your partner needs to let go of the reins and cease to his own release, his pulsating shaft expelling his load deep into your palpitating vagina. The two of you continue to kiss as your bodies heave and jolt, with the last of the aftershocks coursing through your nerves. 

He breaks the kiss, the two of you gasping for air in sync. Drool slips from your lips and comes down to your chin, and Geto smiles before kissing your cheek. “Thank you for the gift,” he commends you. “Ya sure I can’t get at least one picture of you?”

You’re undoubtedly out of breath, yet your facial expression doesn’t fail to display unease. “Please…stop teasing me,” you sniffle with hooded eyes.

“Okay, my sweet bunny girl,” he chortles. “Well, at the very least, let’s go another round, ‘kay?”

“Wha—H-huh!?!?”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“…I will never listen to your advice ever again.”

“Wow, rude?”

“Right, like whatever happened to ’thank you’?”

As far as mornings go, this one was ultimately out of the norm. When was the last time you woke up with your body sore to the bone? Because the moment the sun’s rays peaked through the curtains and landed on your eyes, you couldn’t move a single finger or toe without feeling a sense of heaviness. Or maybe it was because you found that your tall boyfriend was still sound asleep; his slim frame was spooning you close to him. You could hear his light snore as he rested in the crook of your neck and arm to your shoulder with a strong leg between yours. 

Your face warmed up at the realization that he was so close to your proximity, and it only worsens when you realize that you both are in the nude, which rarely [if not NEVER] happens! Where’s your pajamas? At the very least, an oversized shirt and panties! 

But you couldn’t find them anywhere. All you could see was a black negligee and a white bunny-eared headband, and memories of last night finally started to swim into your brain. But the true horror was when you saw the butt plug from before down on the comforter, and it slipped past your mind not to scream and kick the item in humiliating terror while abruptly waking up your partner. WHAT THE FUUUUCK!??!?

And to add the nail to the coffin, your body didn’t look like how you left it yesterday. As you got up to head for the bathroom, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror and felt like you witnessed a scene from a horror movie. Your skin was covered in light bruises and bitemarks, discoloration where it’s implied there were hickeys received all around your neck, stomach, and inner thighs. You were still wearing the black knee-high stockings. However, those looked utterly different from how they looked initially; tears and holes were found all over, but most prominently, the inside of your upper thigh area.

Speechless was the word to describe your puzzlement—appalled, dumbstruck, void of thinking as your reflection showcased an entirely different person. Th-…There’s no way… That’s all you could say to yourself, but it was the way.

Once Geto left for work, it wasn’t any easier for you to work around the house. Working remotely suddenly became an obstacle, as every time your mind recalled the events that transpired the night before, you’d become too flustered to continue your work. You couldn’t even walk into your shared bedroom, too rattled to the point that you just used the guest bathroom! The notion of embarrassment was getting challenging to function today; had you known this would’ve been the effect of buying that damn outfit, you would’ve stopped yourself!

Hence, you’re now complaining to the people who probed you to purchase it in the first place. “A ‘thank you’? I could barely enter past the threshold of my own room, and you want me to thank you!?”

It was late afternoon. You were washing dishes and drying them in the kitchen while putting them aside. But you weren’t alone; your laptop sat at the kitchen island with an application running. On the screen, a window harbored two screens with different faces: one woman with brown hair appearing to smoke out her balcony, and the other with pale blue hair styling her hair to a bun. 

The brunette, Shoko, responds to your words. “Y/n, calm down; all you did was have sex in a bunny costume; nothing radioactive happened there.”

“Yeah, well, I feel like I did something radioactive!” You retorted, wiping the sponge across the wet plate concerningly fast. You pick up the headband from last night and grimace. “Damn this headband…God, I’m so sore.”

“Having sex for an hour straight will do that to a person,” a nerve is stricken when the other speaks; Mei Mei is now done styling the back of her hair with a sly smile. “Pfft, I still find it funny that you passed out.”

“It’s not funny!!” To your dismay, you only make your two best friends laugh even harder. “This is not how this is supposed to be; I don’t even recognize my own body…You saw the pictures!”

Shoko titters, “Yeah, I saw, and it looks like Geto couldn’t keep his hands off you.” She takes a drag of her cigarette and exhales the smoke. “Isn’t that a good thing, though? It means that he liked the gift and appreciated it tenfold.”

“Exactly,” Mei Mei agrees. Your complaints seem to suggest that we completed the mission of making him feel special—which was, you know, the main reason you wanted to do it in the first place.”

“Oh, he felt special, alright,” you said, placing a dry plate on the rest. Although you’d been in a constant state of indignity, what they were saying was true. The whole point of making a fool of yourself and wearing a costume was meant to be outside the norm. It’s exciting for you and Geto, and you can assume that the outcome brought a satisfying end for both parties.

…However, it would be nice if it didn’t cost you a lot of hickeys and soreness. You sighed heavily, “You’re right…I’m just happy that he enjoyed it. He even said I looked cute dressed as his little bunny.”

“I bet!! Why didn’t you take pictures!?” Shoko complains, her device coming closer to her face to emphasize her disheartened tone of voice. 

“I would rather die than have photos of that of me around,” the thought alone causes an unsettling quiver.

But Mei Mei also voices her grievances. “Ehhh, but I bet you looked so adorable~. You better take pictures the next time you do something like that!”

You could’ve sworn your neck was nearly to break when you snapped your head to look at your laptop screen. “Are you insane; what do you mean next time?” 

A silver brow rises. “Oh, be real, Y/n; you really think this is some one-and-done type thing? I bet you ten dollars that Geto would love to pull those bunny ears out again.” 

The brunette chuckles after exhaling more smoke from her pretty lips. “Aye, maybe we should find you some more outfits to wear for him. Maybe we should have you in a fox costume next.”

Your mouth drops in displeasure, but Mei Mei beats you into saying something. “Mmm, now that’s a good idea; I saw something online with cute ears and a skirt. And,” her lavender eyes narrow with a scoff. “I’m sure you’d love to wear the butt plug tail of that one too, Y/n—“

“GOODBYE!!”

You slapped your laptop screen down as your farewell to your best friends, whom you’re sure are probably laughing to themselves for witnessing your reaction. 

Your cheeks are so hot that they are in discomfort; unbelievable. A next time!? You couldn’t comprehend the possibility that you’d be wearing something like last night again. Could you even look at bunny ears the same again after what just happened?! Bunny tails, too; what you primitively thought was cute and pure has now been tarnished to a suggestive and erogenous image. No, there’s unquestionably no way you would be put into that position ever again. No, no, nope, and no!!

DING-DONG!!

The sudden noise of the doorbell diminishes your reluctant energy within milliseconds. You checked the kitchen clock — Geto should be coming home right about now, but why would he be ringing the bell? Inquisitiveness draws up to your shoulders as you dry your hands, taking light steps to the door and opening it after unlocking. 

You leave a small opening to peak through, “Y-Yes?”

“Is that the lovely Y/n I’m seeing~?”

That voice…Not Geto’s, but familiarity sparks up, and recognition prompts you to open the door wider. 

Pure snowy white hair is the first thing that captures your attention, along with the dark shades concealing its owners’ eyes—a signature look of your partner’s friend, “Sa–Satoru?”

“Aye, you remembered to call me by my first name that time!” The named man was dressed down in his work attire, his hand holding his black blazer while he brought his sunglasses up for his azure eyes to throw a wink at you. “It’s been a while, huh?”

“It has!” Your perplexity was evident in your tone; you had forgotten just how tall the man was. “Wh-What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was finally able to catch your boy-toy here before ditching me at work,” Gojo brings your boyfriend into view with the tug of his collar, the raven-haired man expressing nothing but total irritation. “Dude owes me dinner, and I heard someone is cooking a nice meal tonight! Have room for another person?”

“Who said you were invited?” Geto questions his best friend after getting out of his hold.

“I did!” The white-haired man answers. “You owe me for saving your ass yesterday with that file scare—you’re welcome, by the way,” he ignores the glare of his friend. “And just be glad I’m asking for a home-cooked meal, or else I’d be draining your pockets at that new steak place that opened up recently.” 

“Unbelievable…” Geto sighs exasperately. “Hurry up and get in.”

You move out of the way so the men can enter your abode. “Excuse my intrusion~,” the blue-eyed man says as he takes off his dress shoes in the foyer and happily walks to the living room. 

Your boyfriend shakes his head, “Sorry ‘bout this, baby.”

“It’s okay; I was done washing dishes anyway.”

“Mmm,” he brings you in for a hug, part of the routine when he returns home. “How’re you feeling now?” 

Your heart skips a beat. “I feel…okay, still sore, but, you know…” He smelt so good, his cologne pleasantly sinking you in. 

“Heh, sorry,” he kisses your temple. “I had a good time; you really spoiled me.”

The heat in your cheeks ventures to your ears and nape, and your heart returns to racing at an irregular dance. The memories of last night all come back to haunt you once more; images of you being bent into different positions and crying out for Geto hit you one after the other. The lewd thoughts are too much for your pretty little head, especially when you imagine the tall, dark-headed man all sweaty and panting above you with a grin on his face like last night.

At this point, your face will need an ice pack because it’s getting hot. “I’m..really glad you liked it.”

“Loved it,” he takes your hand and after removing his shoes. “Can’t wait to try it again next time.”

And with those last two words, the world suddenly fell to a standstill. You didn’t hear what you just heard—no, you didn’t. “N-Next time?” You repeat.

“Of course!” he leads you down the hall to the open space. What, you thought you’d spend all that money on me for just one night?” No, I HOPED so! “Besides, I was looking online during my break at work, and I saw this fox variant look that I think would look real good on you—”

You couldn’t believe your ears; not only did Mei Mei prove you wrong, but now you have to deal with your boyfriend’s interest in wanting to indulge more in this idea you’ve brought into the relationship. What you thought and hoped would be for one night is now bound to haunt you for many days to come, and that thought in itself had you shaking in your slippers.

As well as the fact that you now owe your best friend cash for jinxing this situation. Damn her!

“Yo, Suguru.”

You perk up when you hear Gojo’s voice as you two enter the kitchen area. And just when you thought this world couldn’t chew and spit you out enough, the image of the white-haired man standing beside the kitchen island holding something in his hand mortifies you to the core.

“What’s with the bunny ear headband? I thought Easter went and passed already.” 

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header art by alp (ringoya) + dividers by @/cafekitsune.

[zombiigrll]

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IMMUNE? ⋆｡°✩ carl grimes x immune!reader .ᐟ WORD COUNT .ᐟ ⭑ 2.1K ꩜ .ᐟ WARNINGS ⭑ hurt to comfort?, use of y/n, blood, zombie apocalypse stuff ofc, post-terminus era, references/slight spoilers to twd 5x2 ?? petname (angel - which also did we all collectively agree that carl would call his s/o angel? i see everyone use it i have before too its so cute .ᐟ SUMMARY .ᐟ ⭑ you get bit, but nothing happens. ꩜ .ᐟ A/N .ᐟ ⭑ hey guys... its been a minute... (45 days COUGH COUGH) i am so sorry i have been SO BUSY and i didnt even realize i had this fic almost completely finished in my drafts so i decided why not finally finish it!! (which is also why the ending might be a bit weak because i also have no written anything for 45 days LMAO) my favorite thing about the whole science behind zombisim is all the theories of if you could or couldn't become immune so i wanted to write a little fic because i love... zombie science.. nerd alert!!! ☝️🤓 <- me but also whats a carl grimes/zombie fanfic writer without writing at least one immunity fic!! hope u guys enjoy!!

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everyone knew you were clumsy. you'd always have to be with someone, no matter what. that's how much people worried about you.

there had been plenty of times where you had been close to getting bit, and if you were alone, you would've been bit.

but now, you and your group were back on the road after the prison had fell. you all met up at a terrible place called terminus, and almost died if carol wouldn't have shown up. it was dangerous, and terrifying. but you had carl on your side, as always. he was the person who had saved you so many times. he was like your personal bodyguard.

you guys had eventually ended up at a church with a priest named gabriel. you felt uneasy being there. gabriel seemed, well, unstable. rick saw it too, telling carl to keep his guard up.

but after a while, everyone was inside the church, laughing and having fun.

you spot bob walking outside, which catches your attention instantly. no one else really seemed to notice, so you turned over to carl.

"i'm gonna go outside."

"do you want me to go with?" he asks, immediately sitting up.

"no, it's fine. i think i saw bob go out there. i wanna go check on him." you smile at him, standing up and walking over to where you saw bob go.

but when you stepped out, he was nowhere to be found.

"bob?" you called out, walking forward a bit more as you looked around for him. "where'd you go?"

you walked a bit further, leaning your arm on a tree as you looked past further into the distance, searching for any sight of bob.

but, to your luck, you were snuck up on. you heard a growl to your side, where your arm was leaning, and then a pain shot through your forearm.

you let out a loud shriek as you fumbled for your knife, stabbing the walker who was still attached to your arm in the head. you kicked him off, breathing heavily.

you could feel your heart pounding out of your chest.

you glanced down at the walker who was now laying dead on the ground, gripping tightly on your knife as you processed what had just happened. you lifted up your pained, bleeding arm.

"no... no, oh, my god." you dropped your knife and began wiping away the blood that was profusely leaking out of your fresh bite wound. "shit..."

you stared at your arm for a moment, attempting to catch your breath while watching your own blood drip onto the floor beneath you.

the doors to the church busted open, snapping you out of your daze. carl, rick, and michonne stood at the door, staring at you.

carl stepped a bit closer. "what happened? are you okay-" he stopped as he spotted your arm. his face fell flat and his eyes widened.

"it snuck up on me.." you quietly and breathlessly responded, tears falling from your agonized face. "i was looking for bob."

rick runs up to you as he realizes you had been bit. he grabs your arm, his face a bit panicked as he starts speaking. "we have to cut it off."

"no!" you tugged your arm away from his grip, holding your arm from him. "we don't have the stuff for that!"

"stop yelling." rick sternly ordered, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. "let's go inside. i'm sure gabriel has the stuff for it."

you anxiously nodded, stepping toward the church with carl by your side.

"i'll get gabriel." michonne said, walking towards his office. "find somewhere for her to sit."

you take a seat in one of the rows, still holding your arm tightly.

"what the hell happened?" glenn asks, quickly walking over to the three of you with maggie by his side.

"she got bit." rick runs a hand through his hair. you look to your side and spot carl, just staring blankly, his expression the same as when he first saw your bite just moments before. he was speechless, and afraid.

you held your arm tighter as the pain increased, blood seeping through in between your fingers as you clenched your jaw. your breathing was progressively getting more and more ragged and uneven the more you panicked.

"i don't want you to cut my arm off.." you protested, your voice high pitched and wobbly. you closed your eyes tightly, a few tears falling from your eyes.

"we have to." rick shook his head. "otherwise you'll become one of them."

"i don't care." you sobbed, gripping tighter and tighter onto your arm. "i can't do it. i probably wouldn't survive either way, we don't have proper stuff for it." you could tell it was difficult for them to understand what you were saying through your sobs. "i just want to wait it out."

rick eyes widen, along with everyone else who were crowded around you.

carl finally steps closer, grabbing your other hand tightly. you could spot tears falling from his eyes. "please, y/n. i'll be with you, it'll be okay. please i.. i can't lose you."

you looked up at him through your lashes, pressing your lips together. "i can't, carl. i can't."

...

they had moved you to one of the rooms in the church that had something you could lay on. they tied your wrist to a pole and stood in the room with you.

you could barely keep track of what was happening. you genuinely felt fine, besides the side effects from losing blood.

"can you wrap my arm up..?" you requested. the tickling feeling of your blood dripping down your arm becoming too much, and you also wanted to test if that was what was making you feel sick.

being immune wasn't even a thought in your head yet. but you were just creeped out about not having any of the same side effects that anybody else had when they'd gotten bit. you were sweating, but you weren't feverish, that's just how the weather always was.

"yes, of course." glenn grabbed a thing of gauze out of his bag, going up to you and carefully but tightly wrapping it around the bite. he also grabbed a nearby rag to wipe the access blood that had been dripping off of your arm.

"...thanks." you sighed, looking away from everyone.

they were all just staring, waiting for something to happen. but nothing was. the awkward silence and suspense was killing you. you saw the sun starting to come up through the window, which means it had been quite a few hours since you had gotten bit.

you've seen people last a day, maybe the tiniest bit over a day, but you noticed that they always had obvious symptoms by now. and you still didn't.

you blew a raspberry, looking around the room. ".. i don't feel anything."

"what?" carl squinted in confusion, his voice still a bit brittle from crying. "like, you're numb?"

"no, like.. i don't feel any symptoms of turning." you laughed at how idiotic your sentence probably sounded to everyone.

"so, you're saying you're immune?" carls voice changed from being upset to just pure confusion.

"i don't know." you shrugged, tapping your foot on the hardwood floors. "i seriously don't know what's going on. the only time i felt sick was when it first happened and i saw my blood dripping. i feel fine right now, a little lightheaded, but i think thats from the bloodloss."

"look, theres no such thing as being 'immune.'" rick shook his head at your statement. "it might just be.. taking a while to settle in."

"dad, can you have a little faith?" carl turned to rick, glaring slightly at him before turning back at you. "i believe you."

everyone else seemed really skeptical about what was happening, exchanging confused looks with one another.

"we'll keep her in here for a little while, alright? if she still doesn't feel anything by tonight, then we'll untie her." rick sighed, looking down at you. you had been with everyone since the start, being there when carl reunited with rick and everything, so you could sense everyones panic when they first saw you get bit. and now, you could sense their pure confusion. people in our group have gotten bit before, but they'd show signs almost immediately.

"i can stay with her if you guys want to leave." carl said, sitting down right next to you. "i'll let you know if anything happens."

everyone agreed and left the room.

you laughed to yourself, looking over at the door.

"are you okay?" carl asks, looking at you anxiously.

"i'm fine." you turned your head over to look at him. "this is just so fucking weird. and we don't even know where bob went. i'm so confused right now. nothing is making sense." you let out another light laugh, shaking your head in honestly disbelief.

"maybe you're the chosen one." carl laughs, smiling at you. "i really hope you're being honest. i.. i don't think i can handle losing you."

you look at him with a lopsided smile, happy to hear how much he cared. "i wouldn't lie to you about this. i genuinely don't feel sick at all. i mean, i feel gross, but not in a 'i'm dying' way. more in a 'i just got my arm bitten into' way." you tried to make light of the situation, despite being terrified. carls expression stayed a bit worried. "..sorry, not funny. i don't want to lose you either carl. you're the best thing to ever happen to me, you know?"

his concern turned into a smile at your words. he leaned forward and hugged you tightly. all you could do was put your hand on his back, due to your other hand being tied up still.

"i love you." he mumbles into your shoulder.

you laugh, leaning your head on top of his. "i love you too."

...

a while passed, yet you still felt perfectly fine. your arm felt odd though, of course. you had been bitten into after all.

carl stayed by your side, telling you stories and just conversing with you to keep your mind and his off of the whole situation while everyone was out searching for bob.

you moved your arm up to your tied up one, itching at your tight bandages. “i want these off…” you dramatically complained.

“we should probably check on your arm anyways. even if you feel fine, there could still be something messed up with your arm.” carl says as he rotates his body towards your arm, carefully untying your arm looking at you for permission.

you nod, and he proceeds to take the bandage off. the teeth marks had dark bruises and dried blood around them, and your veins were darker and more apparent around the bite. it looked unreal.

you quickly looked away from the wound, shuddering. “holy shit.” you closed your eyes tightly.

you could hear carl stumble over his words as he tried to figure out what to say. “i… it… is it supposed to- um.. look like that?” he let out a nervous laugh, moving his hand to comfort yours.

you returned the nervous laugh, looking back at the bite momentarily. "i don't- i don't think so?"

your body was violently shaking, unsure what to do or what was going on. would you still need to cut your arm off? or would it still be fine, despite looking like that? you knew that you'd have to hide your arm for.. well, ever, if you decided not to cut your arm off. it could cause so many different issues if people outside of your group found out.

carl proceeded to grab anything he could find to clean your wound, as well as new bandages. you two sat in silence as he carefully cleaned your arm, the only sound being your light winces of pain as he applied the antibacterial ointment he luckily found.

he wrapped your arm back up and planted a quick, soft kiss onto your bandaged wound, looking back up at your flustered face with a smile afterward.

your face was hot, and you quickly averted your eyes away from his out of embarrassment.

he put his hand on your cheek and kissed your forehead, then pulled you into a hug right after. "i'm so glad you're okay."

you were shocked, but let out a flustered giggle before returning the hug. "thank you.." your smile kept growing and growing. then, the words "i love you." finally left your mouth.

he broke the hug and looked at you shocked, but then his big smile came back. "i love you, too, angel."

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

[chaptersleftunwritten]

Red Hot

Based on the song ‘Breaking the Girl’ by Red Hot Chilli Peppers. Also, requested by the sweetest nonnie!

Blurb: Eddie has never had a constant in his life. Everyone leaves or he does before he can get hurt. After working up enough courage to ask you on a date, he can’t help the itch to run from you when he sees you talking with another guy.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Light angst with a fluffy ending, miscommunication, reader referred to gal/girl, Eddie’s puppy eyes being teary. Jealousy. I think that’s all….

-

divider by @cafekitsune

It all started in August.

The longing stares, stolen touches, blushing cheeks, sweating palms. Eddie had fallen for you. Hard. And it was incomprehensible to him.

Sure, you guys had been partnered on a few class projects, muttering sweet ‘Hello’s’ to one another as you passed in the hallways. But nothing overly serious. Nothing that could lead to this flutter in his inked chest.

The feeling startled him— like falling asleep, only to dream that you’re falling from a building and then you jolt awake.

You frightened him. You with your shining smile that could light up the whole of New York City, or your bigger than life bubbly personality and your Einstein like brain. You frightened Eddie Munson— and he liked it. Loved it, even.

When he looked at you, he was sure. Surer than he has ever been about anything in his entire life. He wanted you— he needed you in his future. You made him feel… wanted. Normal? Less like than outcast and more like a friend.

And so he asked you out— but not without extreme difficulty. It took him three whole days to pluck up enough cowardly courage to slip a hand written note into your locker, signed from him with a cheesy love heart stamped next to your name on the back.

Eddie was consumed by immense panic after he had posted the note to you. He paced the halls and even contemplated breaking and entering into your locker just to steal the note back. It wasn’t regret, but more like guilt.

He wasn’t brave enough to ask you face to face. He knew he wouldn’t be able to form a coherent sentence in front of you, nevermind ask you out to a diner for milkshakes.

He also couldn’t handle your rejection. It would sour him… it would break his heart.

And so when he seen you bounding over to him and the other guys at lunch like a cheerful bunny rabbit he nearly sunk and hid beneath the table. Terrified of what you might say— of what you might think of him…

Would you take him as he was?

His insides were twisting and turning, his feelings for you burning…

“Hey, Eddie…” you stop a few paces away from his perched frame, your cheeks flushed and your fingers fumbling with your pocket, “Could I please borrow you for a moment?” Your voice is sweet enough to make Eddie’s own cheeks pink and your eyes examine the table, almost as if you are asking for the men’s permission to pinch their friend.

They spare you some friendly and amused smiles, but that is all. They know better than to meddle with the things Eddie cares about.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” He clears his throat in the form of a light cough, his palms slapping against the top of the table as he lunges from his seat and onto his feet to meet you. His movements are so fast that it takes you a moment to register that he is standing inches in front of you.

“Lead the way.” He purrs softly and that’s it for you. Your brain is none responsive. Eddie was great at the art of pretending. He was a pretender— which meant that he was the master at faking his confidence. As he watched your jaw fall slack at his toothy dimpled grin it only spurred him on further. He was adoring the effect he was having on you.

Leading Eddie into the quiet of the corridor you stop against a wall, smiling angelically up at the metal head, “I got your note.” Part of you was hesitant to even approach Eddie, in doubt that you had been brutally pranked by someone but the softness in his eyes and the relaxation of his tense shoulders put your mind at ease.

“What note?” Eddie perks a brow, a massive stretched smile on his lips and you swat at him playfully, pulling the loose piece of crumpled paper from your pocket and waving it in front of his nose, “Okay, okay.” He throws his hands up in surrender before tucking them beneath his armpits; trying to contain his nerves.

“If by chance, I did slip that into your locker… what might you reply to it? Y’know— if it were from me.”

There’s a moment of pause and you purse your lips in false thought, holding the note flat against your chest, “I think I would say yes— but only if it were you.” You sigh, frowning mockingly, “But I guess we shall never know, huh?”

You sway away from the wall, overly slumping your shoulders as you take agonisingly slow steps back toward the cafeteria.

Eddie can’t contain his thrill. You just agreed to go on a date with him. You! You agreed!

He punches the air whilst your back is turned to him before he is prancing behind you like a ballet dancer, “It was me! Did I mention that? Swear I did.” He grabs the note from you and you giggle as he examines his own handwriting, “Yep! See, right here. That’s my name.” His index finger taps on the inked page and you hum in recognition and amusement. Peeking up at him through the thickness of your eyelashes you offer him a sly smile and he is quick to return one to you.

“Okay, well… how about Friday then? You, me and some delicious milkshakes?” You chirp like a song bird, clasping your hands behind your back and rocking on your heels.

Eddie’s heart thunders in his chest and his cheeks ache from the unremovable smile on his face.

“Sounds like a date, Princess.”

-

Eddie couldn’t keep his Bambi eyes closed at night, all he could think about was you. You and the minutes counting down to your date together. He had to fight the urge every single second of every day to smother you with attention in the corridors at school. He wanted to allow you space but fuck— was it challenging.

He would leave rouge flowers and their stems poking out from the vents in your locker— never specifying if it were him or not. But you knew. You knew it was Eddie leaving you little trinkets. Like a trail of rose petals leading right to him.

In between classes he would stare at you from a distance, right through the crowd and you would feel his blazing gaze on the back of your head which, without fail, caused your flesh to flush brightly with colour.

He couldn’t help it. You were stunning and the literal gal of his wildest dreams. His pretty little flower. He just wanted you to be his so badly that he was terrified of suffocating you with his presence.

He hadn’t spoke to you from that day in the hallway; he thought it safer that way. Wait until the date, and then let you decide how you feel about him.

The thought made him antsy and unable to keep still. If he had one wish right now, it would be to read your mind. Just so he knew— so he really knew. So he could please you and make you happy. No matter the cost. No matter the effort. He would do it.

He already felt so strongly about you; and that’s why it bruised his heart so brutally to see you giggling and talking with another bloke. Eddie had never experienced jealousy on this level before, but it felt Hellish. It felt intentional and spiteful and he couldn’t control the envious tears pricking at his waterline as he longed for you from afar.

He wouldn’t let you hurt him. He wouldn’t let you get close enough… not anymore. No matter how badly he wanted a life with you. He decided not to take the risk.

And little by little, the trinkets stopped and you only received one final note that Friday morning.

A cancellation letter.

‘Can’t make it tonight, see you around.’ - Eddie

The excitement you had for the night ahead fizzled out and died— sending your stomach sinking like a plane shot from the sky.

What hurt you most was that there wasn’t even an apology. You could understand being too bashful to ask you out face to face— but to cancel on you through a lousy note? You couldn’t understand that.

You thought you meant more than that to Eddie, you thought that he thought more highly of you. Felt more for you. But you must’ve been mistaken since you had to walk through his blizzard of a mood change.

He wouldn’t look at you anymore. His once warm gaze turned icy and much less frequent than before. You couldn’t think of what you had done to deserve this from him. His cold shoulder and snippy responses.

It was hurting you more than you could have imagined. You liked Eddie— you really liked Eddie, and to have him be so brutish toward you was dizzying. Upsetting. Penetrative; like a knife to your heart. Twisting and turning relentlessly. Unwaveringly. Suffocatingly.

But you weren’t one to back down from confrontation; you were going to get the truth out of him if it were the last thing you do.

-

It’s Monday afternoon and after working yourself up all goddamn morning you decide enough is enough. You can’t take it anymore. You have to know why.

“Hey, Munson!” Eddie’s brain hasn’t time to compute what is happening before you are stomping over to him, your arms flexed by your sides as your fists are balled tightly by your waist.

“What do you want?” His deep voice is rumbly and clipped as it leaves his throat and you scoff at his nonchalant tone.

“I want you to explain this.” The crumpled piece of paper is held slotted between your middle and index finger as you wave it like a white flag in front of his face, “I never pegged you as a coward, Eddie— really, I just don’t understand.”

Eddie’s ‘give no fucks’ attitude falters at your distress and he has to shove his hands into his pockets to keep his composure. He knows he can’t sweep you up into his arms and coddle you the way he wants— so he settles for this. Being a total dickwad toward the one girl that actually makes him feel something.

“What’s not to understand? I saw you with another guy and I took the fucking hint. Plain and simple. You don’t owe me an explanation and I don’t see why I owe you one, Princess.” He shrugs his shoulders in discomfort but to you it seems like utter ignorance.

His nickname for you tastes like battery acid on your tongue. A pill that’s hard to swallow. You don’t like this facade he’s putting up— not one bit.

“What are talking about? What guy?” Genuine confusion wraps itself snuggly around your psyche and it’s now Eddie’s turn to scoff in annoyance.

“Oh, please! Don’t act dumb, Sweetheart. I saw you and Eric together with my own two eyes. Giggling all cutely— showing him extreme interest. It was clear as day that you were into him.”

“Into him?” You echo, “I was simply being polite, Eddie. That’s the type of person that I am! Maybe you should try it sometime instead acting like an asshole!” The words spit from your lips like bullets and Eddie begins spiralling.

Had he got it all wrong? He knew you were a polite and gentle girl. It’s one of the many reasons as to why he liked you. He couldn’t help his mind from going to a dark place after seeing you together with Eric. It came to him as though it were second nature.

He had to run before he got gunned down.

“Wait-“ Eddie calls after you, his voice strangled as he leaves his post to jog behind you, his belt chain jingling with his movements, “Please!” His hand clasps your shoulder softly and you spin around to face him. Your face is flushed with anger and Eddie is taken aback from the look in your eyes.

He had seen it so many time before from his peers.

Distaste. Annoyance. Fear. Fury.

All so familiar to him; but they look so foreign in your kind eyes.

“What?” Meeting him with the same blunt force he displayed earlier has his heart clenching; bracing for impact.

“I… I misunderstood.”

“You think?”

“I just… I’m not good at this.” He gestures between the pair of you. A shaky breath leaves Eddie’s lungs and you soften at the sight of him becoming dishevelled in front of you, “I don’t know how to love. And… and I guess when I saw you with Eric it was my own insecurity eating me alive. I wasn’t mad at you, I was mad at myself.”

The metal head leans against a near by wall for leverage and you move in closer to him, magnetised.

“I saw the life you could have. The life you deserve… and it wasn’t with me.” His bottom lip quivers and you can see the struggle roaring in his eyes as he tries to contain his tears, “I’m afraid. I’m afraid of getting hurt and being the one that hurts you.”

The answer was clear as day to you. You knew how to love unconditionally. You could be the one to teach him. To guide him. Eddie needed reassurance; that’s all he needed and you could offer him that. You could work at this with him.

“You don’t get to decide who gets hurt in this world,” With shaking hands you reach out to touch Eddie’s face, your thumb stroking his cheek to catch a stray tear, “I can show you how to love. And how to be loved.”

You’re smiling like an idiot, your heart pumping hopefulness throughout your entire being.

“Yeah?” Eddie sniffles gently and you nod your head vigorously.

“Yeah.”

Slender ringed fingers curl around your wrist and Eddie holds on tightly to the warmth of your skin against his.

“You feelin’ reckless, Sweet girl?” The teary eyed man is smirking now and you fear for the future of your heart; it might just combust into flames at the sight of him.

“Well, that depends what you mean…” you perk a brow, intrigued and Eddie laughs.

“Let’s ditch next period and grab those milkshakes I promised you.”

And without any further hesitation, you allow Eddie to take your hand into his and lead you out of school grounds and toward the rest of your lives together.

-

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000 @ali-r3n @daisy-munson @serenadingtigers @rainybloo28 @munson-enthusiast @godcreatoreli @littlefreckles4 @what-the-jams @tlclick73 @ameliapond1995 @thepurplelovewitch @somethingvicked @costellation-hunter @munsonzgf @emxxblog @ingridvasquez @sadbitchfangirl @im-julessssss @munsonburn3r @unclecrunkle @cierra222 @ziggeddie @yarafae @sidthedollface2 @kellsck

[focusonkayjay]

stuck with you | (1/??)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: computer sci major/ shy/ nerdy! jungkook, econ major/ popular/ influencer! reader, college au, roommates au, roommates to lovers, friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

Summary: Jungkook’s a hopeless romantic—emphasis on hopeless more than romantic. From the moment he first laid eyes on you, he swore he heard bells chiming, like the angels from above were giving him a cosmic nudge. But he’s always been the awkward, nerdy guy—the one who blends into the background—while you? You felt like a dream way out of his league. Fate, however, had other plans and now, you’re his roommate and living with you—in all your effortless glory—is equal parts chaos and heaven. The only challenge? Keeping his ever-growing feelings in check. That is—until a cocky fuckboy with not-so-pure intentions sets his sights on you, and suddenly, just loving you from the sidelines might not be enough.

Word Count: 18.8k+

Chapter Warnings:  jungkook wears GLASSES !!!! oc has like a whole abg vibe/ style going on if ykwim, jungkook is really awkward but he's a cutie patootie and actually a huge simp for oc cause he can never say no to her, yoonmin couple, random computer sci and econ things that may be inaccurate (pls don't come for me, this is literally just a fanfic :p) , morning wood, vine references, nerdshaming (???), oc is just an oblivious girlie, mature language, lmk if i missed anything.

cher's notes: THE FIRST PART OF SWY IS HERE !!! first, a huge thank you for 900 followers—i can’t even begin to wrap my head around it. it’s surreal to have so many of you here, supporting me, and i appreciate it more than words can say. truly, thank you. second, i’m so grateful to everyone who’s been looking forward to this little mini-series. writing it has been such an experience, and honestly, i think i’ve fallen a little too hard for this jungkook. also, fun fact: i had to do a whole deep dive on rubik’s cubes for this because, for some reason, i never realized that a 3x3 wasn’t the only variation out there lmao. anywaysss, i’d love to hear your thoughts on this part, so let me know what you think !! and stay tuned for the upcoming chapters <333

★ PLAYLIST ★ MOODBOARDS

one: close, but not too close

Jungkook nearly chokes on his ramune soda, the fizz catching at the back of his throat as his fingers fumble to pause the very intense anime scene playing on his monitor when he hears you kick his door open. 

"Kook!! Code Red!! Nail Crisis—We're Talking National Emergency!!" you announce, eyes wide as you wag your phone in the air, making your way towards him. He blinks, his brain struggling to catch up but you're already in his space, shoving your phone dangerously close to his face. 

"Choose." you command and Jungkook leans back against his gaming chair, adjusting his glasses as he tries to focus on the screen. 

Two nail designs stare back at him. Right side: pink, glittery, bow charms—so sweet it looks like it might summon a fairy princess. Left side: silver chrome, the tips are pointy and probably even sharp enough to lowkey stab someone.

Nail lingo? Yeah, he's heard you ramble about it—coffin something, almond something, acrylic something—words that sound more like architectural blueprints or dessert flavors than beauty terms. 

Honestly, trying to keep up with your world sometimes makes his brain overheat, but this? This he can manage.

He's used to this by now since it comes with the territory of being your roommate. The unofficial side quest of being your personal beauty advisor. Nail designs, outfit dilemmas, lipstick shade debates... he's seen it all. 

Sometimes he feels like he's living inside a live-streamed Vogue consultation, except the model is you, and the consultant is him—armed with nothing but vibes and the occasional "Yeah, that looks cool."

As of now, his inner gamer kicks in as he nibbles on his lower lip, observing the two pictures closely. Chrome looks like it could belong to a cyberpunk warrior or, at the very least, serve as a cool weapon so that's what he goes for. "This one." he taps the silver nails with a sense decisiveness. "It looks very cool." he adds with a smile. 

"Oh my god, YES. I was literally thinking the exact same thing." you squeal, clearly overjoyed making Jungkook chuckle under his breath. He knows—has known for a while now—that even if he picked the pink set, you'd probably still go with the design you wanted anyway. 

But that's fine. He's just happy to be here.

He watches as you move away from his chair and casually flop onto his bed like it's your own, scrolling through more inspo pics as you ramble on about appointment slots and some nail tech named Jiwon. 

You glance over, catching Jungkook listening—really listening—despite the fact that none of this is remotely relevant to him. He's nodding along with the corners of his lips faintly curved. 

He doesn't interrupt, doesn't tell you to leave, doesn't look the slightest bit annoyed because he's simply patient like that and that's what makes him so special. 

It's been a little over a year since you became roommates with Jungkook. 

Two months into freshman year, when you were drowning in campus chaos, you desperately needed a place... something close to university, something that didn't involve suffocating dorm curfews, passive-aggressive bathroom schedules, and the horror of communal showers.

Apartment hunting was hell, but then you somehow stumbled upon Jungkook's listing. He was a computer science major at your university, had a vacant room, and was looking for someone to split the rent. 

Practical. Convenient. 

But still, you were skeptical mainly because moving in with a guy felt weird and well, not to forget... guys can be very very gross. 

But the rent was affordable. The place seemed nice. And it was practically hugging campus. So, you took the leap of faith and decided to move in.

And much to your surprise—and relief—Jungkook turned out to be an amazing roommate.

For starters, he was clean. Immaculately so. Borderline obsessive. The boy worshipped his laundry detergent and had the entire apartment perpetually smelling like fresh cotton most of the time. 

He was religious about doing the dishes, cleaned the bathroom when it was his turn without needing reminders, and—bless his soul—put the toilet seat down after he was done using it. Every. Single. Time.

He was a bit of a nerd. No, scratch that—he was a full-fledged nerd. Now that you've lived with him long enough, you can confidently say so and honestly, it's so fucking endearing. 

He mostly keeps to himself, stationed in front of his monitor, either binging some random documentary or anime, playing some random game or just furiously coding. He's the kind of guy who could build a fully functional app over the weekend... just because he was bored.

His shelves are lined with books, mangas and also with rubik's cubes in every possible variation... 3x3, 4x4, 5x5, pyramid-shaped, and some monstrosity with like, twelve sides. You stopped keeping count because at some point, you convinced yourself that they just multiply when you're not looking.

He's super shy and introverted, but wickedly smart. Sometimes, he's fixing the WiFi like a tech wizard and other times, he's helping you with an economics assignment, despite having zero reason to know anything about supply curves. 

But that's just Jungkook. Quietly capable of doing anything and everything. 

And speaking of capable—Jungkook's greatest feat, by far, might be his effortless ability to put up with you.

For someone who had a mile-long checklist for what a good roommate should be... clean, respectful, non-creepy, someone who wouldn't turn your kitchen into a biohazard zone— you were, if you were being honest, not exactly the easiest person to live with.

Not in a nightmare roommate from hell kind of way, but... let's just say, you had a presence. A loud one. 

You took up space... in every sense of the word. You were the kind of person who moved through life with a little extra volume, a little more color, and a whole lot of unapologetic flair.

You were, by most standards, the "it girl" of your university. Effortlessly cool, perpetually well-dressed, the kind of person everyone either wanted to be or be around. You didn't just follow trends... you set them.

Your Instagram is basically a curated mood board that half the campus tries to copy. You party hard, ace your classes when you feel like it, and always look good doing it.

You loved being a girl. You loved everything about it—the glittering ritual of makeup, the art of perfecting your nails, the thrill of styling the perfect outfit, the satisfaction of filming a flawless GRWM tiktok, the way a swipe of gloss could make you feel invincible.

And being roommates with Jungkook meant that, willingly or not, he had been drafted into your little glam army. He was your unofficial cameraman, your personal consultant, your human swatch palette.

You would burst into his room—mostly without knocking—waving a lip tint or eyeshadow palette in hand. "Hold still." you'd say, before smearing color across the back of his hand or, on more ambitious days... directly onto his lips. 

He had, as you once declared: "The most perfect lips—zero pigmentation. Every color looks good on you. It's honestly unfair."

Sometimes, you dragged him in front of the camera for random tiktoks—the now-iconic Roommate Series, which has somehow become a huge sensation on your account overtime. 

The series includes a bunch of videos like: "Doing My Roommate's Makeup (He's Nervous LOL)"   "My Roommate Picks My Outfit (Pray for Me)"  "Trying my Roommate's Gym Workout Routine (Send Help)"  "Cooking With My Roommate (We Almost Burned the Apartment Down)." And so many other classics that your followers absolutely loved.

Jungkook, your shy, introverted, perpetually hoodie-clad computer science major roommate—had somehow become the unwitting co-star of your social media life.

And the wildest part? He never complained. Not once. Never sighed out of frustration. Never rolled his eyes. Never told you to back off.

He just... went along with it.

He let you dust highlighter along his cheekbones because you were "testing undertones". Let you draw little eyeliner hearts under his eyes because you thought "it was cute". Let you turn his forearm into a rainbow of lipstick swatches because you were "deciding on a vibe."

He took your outfit photos with an almost alarming level of precision, learning your angles better than some of your actual friends. He gave honest opinions when you held up two skirts and asked which one was giving. 

You even managed to convince him to record voiceovers for a few of your GRWM videos, purely because you thought it would be hilarious and thankfully, his soft, awkward narration had now become a fan favorite.

Jungkook was everything you weren't... quiet, reserved, more comfortable behind a screen than in front of one. He didn't seek attention, didn't chase validation. He was happy existing in the background.

But for you, he stepped into the spotlight. Over and over again. 

And you absolutely adored him for it. For his patience. For his kindness. For the way he always—always—made you feel like you weren't too much, even when you knew you probably were.

You know that most of the things you say, most of the things you do, barely register as important in his world. But he listens and helps you do it anyway, only because it matters to you. 

Jungkook watches you with a small, almost imperceptible smile as you lie sprawled across his bed, legs lazily kicking in the air while you continue to ramble on about Jiwon and how it's so hard to secure an appointment with her because she's always booked. 

It's endearing. The kind of domesticity he never thought he'd find so... warm. You're nothing like him... bright where he's quiet, bold where he's reserved, yet he likes it. 

Likes you.

Jungkook remembers the first time he saw you so vividly, like it's burned into his brain. It was on the 2nd day of freshman orientation. 

You were wearing these loose, low-waisted jeans that somehow looked effortless instead of sloppy, paired with a top that flashed just a sliver of your hips every time you moved. Your hair fell in layered waves, makeup sharp and glossy, but honestly... he barely registered those details.

What really caught him was your energy. You had this magnetic confidence, the kind that commanded attention without even trying. You laughed easily, made friends within minutes, and seemed to glide through the crowd like you belonged everywhere.

Jungkook, on the other hand, had blended into the wallpaper that day. Shuffling around with his laptop bag, adjusting his glasses every few seconds, hoping no one would talk to him for more than two minutes. 

But he had watched you, just for a little longer than he probably should have and thought to himself, wow.

The thing about Jungkook is, he's always been a hopeless romantic. The kind of guy who cries over romance animes at 2 AM, thinks holding hands in winter is peak intimacy, and genuinely believes kissing in the rain might cure the world's problems. 

He's also the kind of person who believes that when you meet the one meant for you, the universe will let you know with soft bell chimes in the air, a gentle ringing in your chest, like some cosmic signal only you can hear.

And that day, when his eyes first found you in the sea of strangers, he swore he heard bells.

But unfortunately, Jungkook was also more hopeless than romantic.

Approaching girls? Nope. Eye contact? Terrifying. Flirting? That was an urban legend he had only seen in movies. 

Jungkook's never had a girlfriend and high school had been a blur of random girls seeking him out because they thought he was cute, mainly drawn in by his adorable smile and doe eyes. But their interest fizzled out just as quickly as it sparked, the moment they realized he wasn't some effortlessly cool bad boy or charming heartbreaker. 

He was just... him. Quiet. Awkward. 

The boy who took too long to respond to texts because he was overthinking every word, who blushed when someone sat too close, who found more comfort in rotting in his room solving a sudoko puzzle over the weekend, than navigating the social labyrinth of teenage romance.

So, that day at orientation, all he did was admire you from a safe distance, fully convinced you existed in a league he wasn't even qualified to spectate. He brushed it off, telling himself that you'd never ever notice a guy like him and he was almost certain he'd never see you again.

But fate is funny like that.

Because two months later, you were standing at his door with a fresh set of nails and a cool jacket, asking him if his roommate listing was still open. 

And suddenly, the girl who was once nothing more than a fleeting dream was now stealing his WiFi, using his arm as a makeup palette, and casually making him fall for her just a little more every single day.

He loved it when you asked him to take your pictures, loved the way you trusted him so instinctively with your angles, your poses, your vision. Loved that you valued his input, sought his opinions like they actually mattered. 

Loved that you pulled him into your silly little videos, even when he was red-faced and stiff, fumbling through whatever tiktok dance or GRWM voiceover you'd roped him into.

Yes, he was shy. Yes, he was awkward. Always unsure of where to place his hands or how to soften his default nervous smile. 

But it felt good... really good to be included. To be wanted. To be someone you liked having around. 

Because for someone who usually dreaded conversations lasting more than two minutes, talking to you, laughing with you... just being with you, felt like the easiest thing in the world.

"Oh my god, Y/n !!" Jimin exclaims as both of you weave through the econ building, making your way towards the last class of the day. You glance at him and notice the way he's clutching onto his phone, scrolling with his eyes widened in shock.

"What now?" you ask, already giggling as you lean in to peek at his screen. "Your recent tiktok—the one with Jungkook?" He spins his phone around, shoving it in your face. "One. Million. Views. You're both famous, babe."

Your eyes widen, and you fumble for your own phone, unlocking it. The video you'd posted just last week, titled "Styling My Shy Roommate" had absolutely exploded. You scroll through the the screen flooded with heart emojis and a bunch of comments. 

"WHY IS HE BLUSHING LIKE THAT?? I'M WEAKKKKK" "Softboy era activated." "Tell him he doesn't need to pay rent—he can just stand in my living room." "Is he okay? He looks like he's being held hostage but also kind of loving it??"

You can't help but grin as your mind flashes back to the memory of filming it. How Jungkook stood in your room like he was awaiting sentencing, stiff as a board while you fussed over his sleeves and buttoned up the cardigan you had handpicked from the men's section after dragging him through three different stores

He had looked so painfully nervous, wide eyes consciously darting to the camera while you just told him to act natural. Well, spoiler alert, he did not act natural. He looked like he was buffering.

"I swear..." Jimin starts again. "You need to start paying him royalties at this point. That poor boy is practically your unpaid intern." he says, making you laugh because honestly, he's not wrong.

"The comments are killing me." Jimin continues. "He's practically the internet's emotional support introvert right now." he cackles while you snort, flicking through more comments yourself. "I should show him these. He'll pass out." you joke. 

"Or he'll delete all his social media and go off the grid." Jimin deadpans. "He's so shy, Y/n. Every time I come over, he looks like he's deciding whether to greet me or make a break for the fire escape."

"He's like that with everyone. It's just who he is." you say fondly with a giggle. "Uh-huh. But with you? He isn't so shy." Jimin grins, making you furrow your brows. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just saying... you seem to be the only one who gets him to break out of that socially awkward equilibrium. Everyone else gets market stagnation, but you? You trigger an expansion." Jimin animatedly explains as both of you enter the lecture hall.

"Oh my god, not you sneaking in an econ joke right before class... please, have some shame." you click your tongue, the mock disappointment on your face making Jimin snicker. 

"But... maybe you're right. We've lived together for over a year now, so I guess he's just used to me. Besides, I annoy him 24/7, he kind of doesn't have a choice." You chuckle. 

"But seriously though... he looked so good in that video, right? Like, you can't tell me the supply-demand curve wasn't absolutely peaking in the comments section." you giggle, nudging Jimin with your elbow.

"Of course you had to drag market behavior into this." Jimin groans. "What can I say? Consumer preferences are shifting heavily towards soft boys in cardigans." you shrug as you settle into your seat.

"And you—" Jimin points accusingly. "—are monopolizing the supply." he finishes, taking the seat right next to you. 

You both dissolve into laughter as you pull out your iPads, getting ready for class. As you settle in, Jimin leans over one last time. "Seriously though, next time you get him into a vest or whatever, you owe him dinner. Or, like... a retirement plan." he says, raising his brows. 

"Deal. But if he quits, you're my backup model." you grin. "I expect hazard pay." he jokes. 

After what feels like an eternity, class wraps up as students shuffle out of the lecture hall. You and Jimin gather your things, falling into step like clockwork, until you reach the point where your paths diverge.

"Yoongi's waiting." Jimin singsongs with a smile, fingers already flying across his phone, no doubt texting his boyfriend. "You literally saw him this morning." You tease, but there's no real bite to it. "And I'll see him tonight. And tomorrow. And forever." Jimin says sassily like he's rubbing it on your face. 

Yoongi, Jimin's beloved boyfriend is a music composition major, and they've been in a relationship for as long as you can remember. They moved in together a few months ago, and though they practically breathe the same air from dawn to dusk, Jimin is still giddy every time Yoongi's name rolls off his tongue. 

Like he's tasting sugar. Like it's new, every single day. 

It's nauseating, really. But... God, you adore it so much because you want that. You want that so badly it aches.

The kind of love that seeps into every corner of a life. 

Because beneath the curated facade... the effortless 'baddie' aesthetic you've crafted so carefully for your social feed, the glossy veneer of perfection, the sponsored posts with captions that take you twenty minutes to get just right, the flawless outfit, the perfect make up, beneath all of that, you're still just... a girl.

A girl who dreams of something gentle. A story that doesn't just make your heart race, but one that holds it. Cradles it. 

You'd had your fair share of relationships back in high school—though, looking back, you weren't even sure you could call them that anymore. They felt more like fleeting situationships, placeholders for something that never quite materialized. 

None of them had ever left you feeling full, like you'd found what you were looking for. 

The guys were either maddeningly nonchalant, treating you like an option rather than a choice, or they messed up in ways that left fractures too deep to overlook—texting other girls behind your back, swiping through dating apps while still feeding you lines about how much they liked you. 

Some didn't approve of the way you carried yourself, the way you dressed, the way you took up space so unapologetically. And instead of embracing you for you, they tried to mold you into something smaller, something easier—something you were never meant to be.

It was like you were always almost there, almost close to something real, but every time, it slipped right through your fingers because no one ever quite aligned with what you thought love should feel like—the kind you'd dreamed of, the kind you still believed was out there.

A love that feels like stepping into the warmth of home after a long day. A love where they peel oranges for you, open a pomegranate for you, or perhaps shell pistachios just so your fingertips don't hurt. 

It's something simple, something almost unnoticed, yet it's there as a quiet proof that they care, that they'd do those little things for you, just because.

Built not on grand gestures, but in the smallest details... like bringing you coffee with your order memorized perfectly, playlists made on lazy sunday afternoons titled with inside jokes only the two of you would understand, the way their arms hold you not just when you're breaking, but simply because you're there. Because they want you close, always.

The kind of love that wraps around you like a blanket, never asking you to be anything other than who you truly are. Something that feels like you were always meant to find each other, like the universe stitched your souls together long before you even met.

A love that makes "forever" feel less like a promise and more like a certainty, like no matter what happens, no matter how hard the world pushes or pulls, you'll always end up back in each other's arms because you're just... stuck together, but not in the way that feels like a trap but in the way that feels like home. 

You've always wanted that. Something like that. And maybe one day, you'll have it. You'd like to believe so.

When you started college, you found yourself investing more into yourself...your style, your confidence, the way you carried yourself through the world. You became your own priority, and it showed. Not just on your meticulously curated social media, but in real life too. 

People noticed—especially guys. They approached you constantly. Some with that awkward, endearing charm, asking for your number or trying to secure a date. Others? Not so much. Your DMs became a war zone... filled with weird, borderline unhinged messages that made you cringe so hard you had to physically put your phone down sometimes. 

Most times, it was a reply to a thirst trap—one that, to be fair, was strictly meant for the girls—yet there's always some random guy trying to shoot his shot or it's a string of desperate comments flooding in, all vying for your attention.

But you knew, deep down, that if you were ever going to meet your soulmate, it sure as hell wouldn't be through a sloppy DM or a thirst-driven comment.

You shake off the thought with a small sigh as you continue walking while the sun hangs low, casting a warm, golden hue over the pavement. The evening breeze is warm as you near your building. 

The minute you unlock the door to your apartment, the familiar sight of Jungkook's sneakers neatly lined up by the doorway makes you smile, signaling he's already home. 

And when you walk further in, you instantly sense him in the kitchen. You carelessly drop your bag onto the couch and drag yourself towards the kitchen, resting your elbows on the island as you watch him by the stove, cooking.

"Oh, hey." He smiles, once he notices your presence. "You're home."

You smile back, moving around the island as you inch closer to him and hop onto the counter, a little away from the stove. "What're you making?" you ask, peering at the dish curiously. It's obvious he's making jajangmyeon—but you want to hear it from him anyway.

"Jajangmyeon." he answers, his lips curling into a small smile. "How was class?"

"Same old." you sigh, swinging your legs lazily over the edge of the counter. He nods at your words, his attention drifting back to the food.

"Also!" you suddenly exclaim, pulling your phone out of your pocket. "Kook, your tikok—the one I posted last week—it hit a million views!! Look, you're famous!!!" You shove your phone in his direction, practically vibrating with excitement.

Jungkook's eyes widen in shock, his hands instinctively reaching out to hold your phone, bringing it closer for a better look. "One... One million views?" he stammers, utterly dumbfounded.

Jungkook doesn't even have a tiktok account. Social media was never really his thing, but he kept Instagram around mainly for the reels... the kind that catered perfectly to his inner nerd. 

His algorithm had him in a chokehold, feeding him everything from bizarre mating facts about deep-sea squids to oddly soothing videos of people assembling custom-built mechanical keyboards. Sometimes, it was a guy 3D-printing a fully functional wrench that looked like it could survive a whole trip to Mars.

And, well, he followed you too. 

So, amidst all that nerdy and geeky stuff...your stories, your pictures, your reels (that occasionally included him ofc) were his absolute favorites. But that's a conversation for another time.

He rarely posted anything about himself so it was safe to say his social media presence was practically nonexistent. 

Well... that was until you came along. Because, apparently—duh—he's internet famous now?? The fact that one million people had seen his face was nothing short of mind-boggling.

"Read the comments. Everyone's gushing over you." you laugh, and Jungkook scrolls through the barrage of responses.

"Soft boy aesthetic but he looks like he's seconds from passing out?? #needTHAT"  "Tell him rent is FREE if he stands in my kitchen looking nervous."  "Protect him at all costs."  "I'd give him my kidney"

Jungkook doesn't even know what half of these mean, but he can feel his ears growing hotter by the second. 

"Some of them are crazy, but they're so right. You do look cute." you giggle, looking over at him. At that, Jungkook lifts his gaze to meet yours, his heart pounding in his chest. "I'm... cute?" he asks, as if he misheard you. "Yeah, you're so cute." you nod, a smile spreading across your face, and Jungkook gulps. 

The way you say it so casually, with that pretty smile of yours... god he's so fucking cooked.

"You think... I'm cute?" he asks again as he adjusts his glasses, just to make sure he heard you right. "Duhhh, Kook. Haven't I established that already? You're like the cutest guy I know." you say, your smile widening with every word.

Jungkook swears his whole system just came to a screeching halt. The girl who caught his eyes on the 2nd day of orientation, the girl who he was convinced was miles out of his league, the girl who somehow, magically, became his roommate, the girl of his dreams thinks... he's cute. 

She thinks he's cute.

It's like his mind just short-circuited and it's enough to leave him speechless. He wonders if you know the effect you or your words have on him and all he can do is just stare at you in utter disbelief.

"This calls for a celebration!!" you suddenly declare, hopping off the counter and striding towards the refrigerator. Jungkook blinks, still processing the whole 'You're like the cutest guy I know' thing as he watches you yank open the fridge and pull out two bottles of soju.

Of course. 

He should've seen this coming the moment you made a beeline for the fridge. He's lived with you long enough to know that your version of a celebration involves downing shot after shot until the living room magically transforms into a karaoke room, and you're belting out some sappy '80s love song like your life depends on it.

But he still smiles because the sheer, unfiltered happiness on your face as you clutch the two bottles of soju close to your chest and pull out two shot glasses from the cabinet above, makes his heart do that thing again.

That stupid thing. Where it feels like it's going to burst.

"PUTTTT YOURRRR HEADDDD ONNN MYYY—" A cough cuts through your performance, but you soldier on, determined. "MYYYY SHHHOULDDERRR!"

Jungkook winces slightly, squinting as your voice pierces through the room, raising goosebumps on his skin—not the good kind. 

Now he might be hopelessly, head over heels for you, but for the love of all things holy, you cannot sing. He's convinced that when the universe was crafting you, perfection in every way, it must've thrown this one flaw in, just to keep things fair.

That's what he tells himself anyway as he makes his way over, watching your drunk self standing on the coffee table like it's your stage as you clutch onto the TV remote like it's a microphone.

"Okay, Y/n..." he murmurs, voice soft, hands hovering at your waist, ready to steady you if your balance falters. "I think that's enough for tonight. It's almost 2 a.m. You've got an early class tomorrow, remember?" he tries but you're still going on.

He shakes his head, a quiet laugh escaping his lips as he gently pries the makeshift microphone from your grasp. "Come on." he coaxes, guiding you down from your precarious perch. 

You mumble a string of complaints, the words tangled together in your tipsiness, nearly tripping over your own feet.  But Jungkook's right there, strong and steady, his arm slipping around your waist, holding you up like he always does.

With careful steps, he leads you to your room, the door creaking open as you lean into him, your cheek brushing against his shoulder. You're humming now...some incoherent melody, but he's used to this. 

He's taken care of you like this more times than he can count. And if he's being honest, he doesn't mind. Not one bit. Because even now, with your cheeks flushed from the alcohol and your eyelids heavy with sleep, he thinks you look unfairly pretty. 

"Here we go." he whispers, lowering you onto the middle of your bed. You groan in protest, wriggling like a petulant child as he tries to pull the blanket over you. He can see it—the exhaustion you're fighting so hard to push away just because you want to keep this night going.

"Kookie... I don't wanna sleep yetttt." you whine, your voice muffled against the pillow. He only smiles, his heart doing that ridiculous thing again... tightening and swelling all at once, as he tucks you in with gentle hands.

"Kookieee..." you draw out his name again, pouting this time, but he stands on business, adjusting the blanket around you. "Kookie, come onnn..." You try one last time, your fingers curling around his wrist, tugging weakly. "At least stay with me until I sleep. Pleaseeeee?"

And just like that, he's done for because, if Jungkook's being honest, when it comes to you, his resistance has the structural integrity of a wet tissue paper. So, with a soft defeated sigh, he straightens up.

"Okay, fine. I'll stay." he murmurs, already eyeing the chair by your desk in the corner, thinking he'll just drag it over and sit by your side until you drift off. It's what he usually does on nights like this... close enough to soothe you but keeping a bit of space, because, well... boundaries.

But apparently, you have other plans because before he can even take a step towards the chair, your hand shoots out as your fingers wrap around his wrist and you yank him with a surprising force for someone who, mere seconds ago, could barely stand.

It's clumsy and sudden. His balance tips, heart lurching for a split second, and then before he can even process it, he lands right next to you on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. 

"That's better." you sigh tiredly still holding his wrist as you nuzzle into the pillow and inch just a little closer to Jungkook's warm body. 

Jungkook knows you don't even realize what you're doing, that you'll probably have no memory of this tomorrow but his heart doesn't seem to care about any of that. It's racing like he's just run a marathon, each thud echoing in his ears as he stares at the ceiling with wide eyes. Because, this? This, he definitely did not see coming.

He lies there, stiff as a board, every muscle tense, trying to will his heart into calming down. Minutes pass... though they feel like hours, before he finally works up the courage to glance over at you.

You're still. Eyes closed, breathing soft and even.

Asleep.

He exhales slowly, relief and something else... something dangerously close to disappointment washing over him. 

But this is his chance to finally get up and put some distance between his rapidly deteriorating heart rate and your sleeping form. Because, honestly? Being this close to you is doing things to him and he might actually be on the verge of a cardiac event.

Carefully, he lifts his hand, fingers moving to gently untangle yours from his wrist. But the moment he tries, you let out a small, sleepy whine and your grip tightens instinctively.

Okay. So, not asleep.

Jungkook freezes, hand hovering midair, before letting out the quietest, most defeated sigh known to man. Fine. He'll stay. Just until you fall asleep completely.

How hard can that be?

"Mmm... flowers...? Why does it smell like flowers? Am I... dreaming of a garden?" Jungkook's half-asleep mind stirs, thoughts weaving through the haze of slumber as his sleepy imagination spirals, picturing himself twirling through a meadow, maybe exchanging pleasantries with a particularly charming sunflower.

But the scent isn't fading... it's getting stronger. And it's getting too real.

Then, something soft brushes against his nose, making him twitch. He scrunches his face, trying to escape it, but the gentle tickling continues and suddenly the feeling of something warm and solid pressed against his chest hits him. 

And that's when his eyelids flutter open, pupils adjusting to the faint morning light, only to be met with a cascade of hair. 

Your hair. All over his face.

As realization settles over him like a crashing wave, Jungkook's eyes trail downward... and that's when he sees it. His arm, draped snugly around your waist. His hand resting against the soft fabric of your shirt. Your lower bodies pressed flush together, tangled under the sheets like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Jungkook's jaw practically unhinges.

Oh my god. Oh my fucking god.

Did he actually fall asleep last night? Fuck. He was only supposed to stay until you drifted off—not fall asleep with you. But that's not even the real problem right now because... did he really fall asleep like this? Holding you? Spooning you? His brain short-circuits, running frantic laps between sheer panic and the undeniable warmth pooling in his chest.

And just when he's still in the middle of processing this ridiculous situation, you shift, pushing back into him, your body pressing even closer, and Jungkook's breath hitches sharply in his throat. His jaw clenches, lips pursing just enough to swallow down the pained noise threatening to escape.

God, you were too close. Too fucking close. 

And his body? Yeah, it's reacting. Predictably. Involuntarily. In a way that makes him want to fling himself into the sun.

He screws his eyes shut, mentally begging for divine intervention or at the very least, for you to stay asleep. Because if you wake up right now and find him like this? In your bed? Spooning you? With that pressing against you?

There's no explanation in the universe that could get him out of this one. No amount of stammering or panicked rambling could justify the very obvious, very mortifying problem currently happening beneath the covers.

Because Jungkook knows this isn't just his usual morning wood. In fact, this has very little to do with the morning and everything to do with you... and your ass currently pressed against him.

It's almost like his body made an executive decision to completely betray him the second you leaned back into him, and now he's left here... stiff in more ways than one, praying to every higher power that you stay asleep.

He knows he can't stay here any longer. Not like this. Because if we're being honest, this is toeing the line of violating all kinds of boundaries, and Jungkook respects you far too much to risk that. The most practical, the most decent thing to do is to slip away quietly before you wake up and find him in this compromising position.

So, with painstaking caution, he begins to move. He peels the covers back just enough, carefully untangling his arm from around your waist and this time, thankfully, you remain in your deep slumber, no sleepy whine of protest like last night.

He exhales a low sigh of relief when he finally pushes himself off the bed, standing up straight. His heart is still racing, but at least he's free. He spares a glance back to find you still curled on your side, blissfully unaware of his internal crisis and then he glances at the clock—there's still a little over an hour before your morning class. 

Perfect. 

Enough time to retreat to his room, take a cold shower (because, God, does he need one), and then start making breakfast. That way, by the time you wake up, everything will look perfectly normal. Like he had the most uneventful, innocent night ever.

So, he steps out of your room, making a swift retreat to his own and then storms into the bathroom, strips off his clothes and steps into the shower. He sighs softly, letting the water rush down his body letting it drown out the chaotic rhythm his heart has adopted ever since he woke up. 

By the time he's dressed in a fresh set of clothes, hair damp and sticking to his forehead, he finally feels somewhat normal again... like his body and mind have called a temporary truce.

But that fragile calm nearly shatters when he opens the door and spots you standing by the fridge, chugging a bottle of water.

"Oh, hey." you croak, lowering the bottle when you notice him. Your voice is thick with sleep, scratchy, and with the way you squint your eyes against the morning light, Jungkook knows the hangover is hitting you hard.

"Just whyyyy did you let me drink so much last night?" you whine, shoving the bottle back into the fridge. 

By the way you're acting, it's obvious you have no idea what happened last night or this morning... how Jungkook woke up with his arm wrapped around you. Spooning you. With... other complications involved.

Jungkook forces a chuckle, a wave of relief washing over him as he quickly regains his composure. "I tried to stop you, but I gave up when you went back for the fourth bottle like a woman on a mission." he teases, gesturing towards the battlefield that is your living room, with empty soju bottles scattered across the floor like war casualties.

"I have class in an hour, and I swear my head is splitting open." You groan, pressing your fingertips to your temples. Jungkook smiles softly, already moving towards the mess to start cleaning up. He would've done it last night, but, well—things had taken a different turn.

"Why don't you freshen up? I'll make you some soup." he offers and you pause, leaning against the island as you watch him bend down to pick up the bottles. 

You've lost count of how many times Jungkook has cleaned up after you, nursed your hangovers, made you breakfast, made sure you were okay. He's like an angel in disguise, you think. And you have no idea how he hasn't gotten tired of you yet.

"Thank you, Kook. Seriously..." you say, voice softer this time, laced with sincerity. He glances up, pausing his movements just to give you one of those warm smiles, the kind that always makes your heart feel full. "Anytime." he says simply.

With that, you shuffle off to your room to get ready for the day. By the time you're out the door, stomach full of warm soup, your headache is nothing but a distant memory. And it's all because of your amazing roommate.

"A penny for your thoughts?" Taehyung's voice slices through the quiet hum of the library, pulling Jungkook's scattered thoughts away from the screen in front of him. For the last thirty minutes, he'd been attempting to focus on the leetcode assessment in front of him, but no matter how hard he tried, all that's occupying his mind is you. 

He just can't seem to stop thinking about you... how you called him cute last night, how you leaned into him when you were tipsy, the scent of you hair, how warm and soft you felt pressed against him this morning. 

Jungkook clears his throat, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and quickly brings his focus back onto the screen, eyes darting across the lines of code, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as if trying to will himself into action. But it's no use.

"Yeah... I just... I was just trying to figure this code out." he lies, forcing the words out as smoothly as possible. But Taehyung, ever the perceptive one, doesn't buy it even for a second. He leans back in his chair, narrowing his eyes, clearly not convinced. "It's Y/n again, isn't it?" he raises an eyebrow.

Taehyung was one of the first friends Jungkook made at university. They shared the same major, and if Jungkook was being honest with himself, he liked to think of them as kindred spirits. Of course, calling them similar might be a bit of a stretch, but it was safe to say they were the same person, just in different fonts.

For starters, they both shared the same nerdy interests... coding, anime, and all things geeky, but when it came to personality, they were worlds apart. 

Unlike Jungkook, Taehyung was bright, outgoing, and confident. He had this infectious charisma that seemed to draw people in effortlessly, and on top of that, he was also the star player of the university's soccer team. 

It was Taehyung who first approached Jungkook for a paired assignment at the start of the first semester, and that's how their friendship began to form. Over time, they grew close, and now, after spending so much time together, Taehyung had become well aware of Jungkook's deep feelings for you... something Jungkook had reluctantly confessed after a lot of prodding.

Taehyung was, unfortunately, very good at getting people to open up, and Jungkook was no exception. He could be annoyingly persistent when it came to matters of the heart.

"No." Jungkook scoffs, but Taehyung, ever the observant one, immediately catches the bright red hue creeping up his ears. A grin spreads across Taehyung's face as he leans in, elbowing Jungkook. "Come on, tell me what happened now?" he prods as usual.

"Nothing, Tae. Leave me alone and focus on your work." Jungkook mutters, his tone flat, hoping to brush the conversation aside.

Taehyung, however, isn't so easily deterred. "Hey, come on, is it really that bad? I just want to know how things are going with your roommate." he says, with a pout. "You know, the roommate you're so hopelessly in love with." he adds with a smirk.

Jungkook throws a sharp glare at him. "Watch your mouth." he warns, though a part of him knows Taehyung is only doing this to get a rise out of him. 

"Honestly..." Taehyung starts again, resting his chin on his hand. "I don't know how you do it. Living in the same house with the girl you've liked since the very first time you saw her, all while concealing your very real romantic feelings for her...." He pauses, giving Jungkook an exaggerated once-over. 

"That is not for the weak, Kook. You're just built different because seriously I would have combusted by now."

Jungkook keeps his eyes on the screen, fingers tapping the keys though he's barely processing what he's typing. "It's not that easy." he says casually, trying to brush off the weight of the conversation. 

"It's... kind of sickening sometimes, you know? Being under the same roof with her.. seeing her every day... and knowing I'm probably nowhere near her league..." He sighs, meeting Taehyung's gaze again, an almost resigned look in his eyes.

Taehyung's playful expression softens and he leans in a little, lowering his voice. "Hey... don't do that. Don't sell yourself short." His words are gentle but firm. 

"I'm pretty sure Y/n isn't the kind of person who cares about stuff like 'leagues.' And honestly, that whole idea? It's bullshit. No one's out of anyone's league, Kook. Relationships aren't about rankings. They're all about connection. About how you make each other feel."

Jungkook's fingers slow to a stop, his eyes flicking towards Taehyung, searching for something—reassurance, maybe. "If you're genuine, if you care about her the way I know you do, that's what matters. It's not about being the 'best' or 'coolest' guy. It's about being the right person for her.

Jungkook inhales slowly, carefully absorbing Taehyung's words. Maybe he's right. Maybe everything Jungkook has built up in his mind... the leagues, the what-ifs, the invisible walls, maybe they're all just ghosts of his own making.

But still... that gnawing insecurity, the self-doubt that's burrowed so deeply into his chest, it clings to him like a second skin. 

Because, god, he wants it. He wants everything with you. He wants to hold your hand, wants to hold you close.  He wants to do all the little things for you, the ones that might seem trivial to someone else but mean everything to him. 

Like making you your favorite breakfast, folding your laundry because you forgot again, or fixing your ring light when it flickers out right before you film. 

He always wants to be the one you pull into your silly tiktok dances or the one you use as a human swatch palette, drawing streaks of lip stains and eyeshadow along his arm for as long as you please.

He wants to be there—not just as a passing presence—but a constant. Someone you can always rely on, someone who always brightens your day, someone who always feels like home.

But wanting and having—they still feel like two entirely different worlds.

And the thought of losing what little he already has with you... the impromptu friendship, the effortless laughter, the quiet comfort of existing in the same apartment, it terrifies him.

So, he stays where he is. Close, but not too close. Wanting, but never reaching. Because taking that first step feels like standing on the edge of a cliff—one wrong move, and everything could come crashing down.

"Alright, everyone. It's that time of the semester again—time to talk about your upcoming research paper on macroeconomic market trends." Mr. Jang, your eccentric yet strangely endearing macroeconomics professor, announces just as the lecture is nearing its end.

His words send a collective groan rippling through the lecture hall as heads drop onto desks, pens clatter, and someone even mutters a dramatic "Nooo..." like they're being sent to war.

Beside you, Jimin lets out an exaggerated huff, slumping down in his seat like he's just been personally victimized. "Just take me out now. This is where I die." he mutters under his breath. You sigh, nodding in solidarity. "Literally, same."

"You'll be working in pairs." Mr. Jang continues, unfazed by the chorus of complaints. At that, the mood shifts and a subtle spark of hope lights up the room. Pair work is always better than slogging through a solo paper.

People immediately start throwing side glances at their friends, silent pacts being made through nods and raised brows. You and Jimin exchange the same look. It's obvious—you're a team. You've been surviving Mr. Jang's chaotic assignments together for multiple semesters now, and besides, you barely know anyone else in this massive lecture hall.

But then, just as people are settling into the relief of pre-determined partnerships, Mr. Jang's voice cuts through again like a dagger. "But... I'm feeling a little adventurous this time." he grins and a new wave of dread passes over the room. Everyone knows exactly where this is going.

"I'm all about broadening horizons, getting you guys out of your comfort zones. So... I've decided to switch things up. You won't be picking your own partners." he says and the collective mood plummets again and some students visibly deflate in their seats.

Mr. Jang grins, clearly enjoying this far too much. "I've made a list of the pairs myself, and I'll be emailing it to you all by this evening." 

Jimin lets out a suffering groan. "Like this couldn't possibly get any worse." he says and you nod, just as disappointed. The last thing you want is to be paired with some random person in class who either has no clue what's going on or is just impossible to coordinate with.

You've always been the kind of person who loves making new friends, striking up conversations with strangers, and weaving your way into different social circles with ease. But when it came to assignments? That was a different story. You'd rather stick with your best friend, Jimin or at least someone you know, because there's always a silent understanding of each other's work styles. 

No awkward debates over who would do what, no last-minute panicing because someone forgot their part. You just knew how to get things done, efficiently and without the headache.

"Alright, settle down!" Mr. Jang claps his hands to regain control as the students continue to protest. "Once you get your partner, I expect you to reach out, collaborate, and submit the assignment by the end of next month. That's two whole weeks before the finals, so that should be plenty of time, right?"

A few half-hearted nods follow, but it's clear most people are already bracing themselves for the impending awkward small talk and the inevitable "So... uh, how do you wanna do this?" conversation.

"Good. I expect great things from you guys. Class dismissed!"

As you gather your things, Jimin leans in, his voice thick with impending doom. "I swear to god, if I end up with someone who does nothing, and I have to write the entire paper myself... just know, this might actually be my end." 

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you chuckle. "I'll put flowers on your grave." you joke, giving him a wink. "Make sure it's daisies, please." he shoots back as he follows you out of the lecture hall.

The warm afternoon sun greets you as you step out of the building, its golden rays spilling over the campus like honey. You walk beside Jimin, already caught up in some random conversation but it doesn't take long before you hear your name being called— all high-pitched and excited. 

You glance up to see a group of girls waving at you from across the courtyard, their smiles as bright as the sun. You know them, or at least you know their usernames because they're the same ones who're always flooding your comment section every time you post, hyping up your nails, your outfits, asking for makeup links, or DMing you to say you "ate" and left no crumbs.

You giggle and wave back just as enthusiastically, earning a chorus of delighted squeals in return.

Jimin clicks his tongue beside you. "Oh god. Here we go. Ms. Influenza. Ms. Campus Celebrity. Ms. 'Get Ready With Me for my 8 AM Lecture.'—"

"Don't start." you cut him off, laughing.

"I'm just saying..." he holds his hands up, grinning. "Should I get my camera out? You wanna do a quick fit check? Maybe we should go live—'Hey guys, just walking across campus, breathing oxygen, being gorgeous.'"

You swat at his arm, making him snort.

"You're just mad because no one's ever asked you where you got your jeans from." you quip and Jimin gasps, clutching his chest like you've struck him. "Excuse you, these are vintage—thrifted with love. For all we know, the previous owner died in them. Their ghost is probably hovering around right now, deeply offended by your slander."

You snort, but he's on a roll. "And, for your kind information, not everyone can pull off thrifted cargo pants also—what is that? A baby tee? Are you auditioning for Bratz: The Resurrection?"

You gasp dramatically, hand flying to your chest. "It's called style, Jimin."

"Right, right. My apologies, Ms. Vogue."

You both burst out laughing, as you continue walking, ready to head home. You pull out your phone, mindlessly scrolling, until you suddenly realize what day it is today. "Shit." you mutter under your breath.

Jimin's head whips towards you, immediately on high alert. "What? Did someone comment some weird shit again? Is this about that guy who said he'd drink your bathwater?"

You freeze, turning to him slowly, face twisted in horror. "Chim, why the hell would you remind me of that?" 

"Hey, I'm traumatized too, okay ??"

You shake your head, trying to banish the cursed memory. "No, it's not that. It's just... it's grocery shopping day."

You and Jungkook have this little system where you both take turns grocery shopping and keep the cabinets and fridge stocked with all the essentials. He had tried to convince you, more than once, that he could handle it every time, but you wouldn't let him. 

After all, you were roommates and it was only fair the responsibility was shared equally. And since he made the last trip, it obviously means it's your turn now. 

"Wanna accompany me??" You glance at Jimin, hopeful and he doesn't even hesitate. "Girl, you're on your own." he says. "Besides, I've got plans with Yoongi." he adds after a beat, making you roll your eyes. 

"Come onnn, you see that man every hour of the day." you groan, throwing your head back, exasperated. "All I'm asking for is one measly trip to the grocery store."

You shift your stance as you loop your arms around his, giving him your most pleading pout, paired with fluttering lashes, hoping it might be enough to convince him. But all your best friend does is look at you with disgust. "Girl, you can literally go with your roommate." he shoots back, unfazed.

"Come on, Chim, you know we take turns grocery shopping. He went last time, so I have to go this time, I have no choice but I don't wanna go alone. So come with me pleeeeaseeee." You drag out the last word, hoping your puppy-dog eyes will seal the deal.

Jimin groans, exasperated with a disgusted look but let's out a resigned sigh as he pulls his arm out of your grip. "Ugh, fine." he relents and his expression changes almost immediately. "But let's go with Yoongi. He can drive us there. You know, in his new car." he adds, already getting giddy at the mention of his boyfriend.

It's your turn to give him the disgusted look now, but you know walking to the store is a far less appealing option and third-wheeling the insufferable couple is a little price you'll have to pay for convenience.

Jungkook rises from the couch the moment he hears the front door creak open. His eyes immediately land on you, followed closely by Jimin and Yoongi, each of you juggling oversized bags filled to the brim with groceries.

"Oh, hey Kook." you exhale, slipping off your shoes. "Hey, JK." Jimin offers a bright smile, while Yoongi gives a small, acknowledging nod as the three of you shuffle inside the apartment. 

"Today was grocery shopping day?" Jungkook asks, his gaze softening as he steps forward, instinctively relieving you of the heavy bag in your hand, his fingers brushing faintly against yours, before you can even nod. 

Jimin and Yoongi exchange a knowing glance, trying to hold back their smiles, before making their way towards the kitchen island. "Yeah, so I had these two help me out." you answer following them as they set the bags down and Jungkook follows suit. 

"You know what happened today, JK?" Jimin suddenly begins, and you immediately roll your eyes, already knowing where this is headed. "Come on Chim, you're overacting" you sigh, moving towards the fridge to grab a bottle of water. 

Jungkook blinks, slightly confused as he looks at Jimin. "What happened?" he questions softly. 

"We were supposed to be done with grocery shopping an hour ago, okay? But this one—" Jimin pauses to accusingly jab a finger in your direction "—decided to go on a quest for Twinkies."

"Twinkies?" Jungkook tilts his head. That's his favorite snack. 

"Yeah, Twinkies." Jimin echoes, throwing his hands in the air dramatically. "They weren't in any of the aisles, and you know what she did?" he pauses again, his lips twitching.

"She caused a full-blown search operation in the store. Had half the staff combing through the shelves like we were looking for some buried treasure." he explains animatedly.

"And then—get this—someone finally dug them out from the stockroom in the back." Jimin finishes while Yoongi leans against the island, watching his boyfriend with a fond smile, as if Jimin's exaggerated storytelling is the most adorable thing in the word. 

Well, though Jimin was being his usual overdramatic self—spinning the story more for entertainment than accuracy—there was still truth in his words. 

You knew exactly how much Jungkook loved Twinkies. He hadn't exactly made a big deal out of it, but you remembered, because he'd casually mentioned once, in a passing conversation that Twinkies were his comfort snack. 

It was a small, fleeting detail, but it had stuck with you and since then, every time it was your turn to handle the groceries, you made it a point to grab a pack—sometimes even three—just to see that contented smile grace his cute face when he found them in the pantry.

And today was no different. Well, maybe just a little because you'd had to put in some extra effort—scour the aisles, rally a few employees, and stir up more commotion than you intended—but in the end, you got them. Because it was for Jungkook. 

"I literally just asked if they had more in stock." you defend yourself as you close the fridge and cross your arms. "Oh, please." Jimin scoffs, though there's no real heat behind his words.

"Come on, baby." Yoongi chimes in. "You know she just wanted to get the Twinkies because Jungkook likes them." he says. "Yeah, like, forgive me for trying to get his favorite snack." you shrug, a light laugh escaping.

"I get that." Jimin concedes with a sigh, though his eyes are still playful. "But was it really necessary to rally the entire staff? You were going, 'No, I need the Twinkies. Jungkook loves Twinkies. I'm not leaving until I get the Twinkies.' Like, girl I'm sure he would've survived a day without them." He shakes his head in disbelief.

"Why even go to such lengths for Twinkies of all things?" he continues, exasperated and you simply smile at him, shrugging. "Just because."

Jimin stares at you, utterly unimpressed. "Just because?" he echoes, looking personally offended. "You dragged us through an entire covert operation just because?"

You laugh at that and Yoongi joins in too, but Jungkook only half-hears the rest of the banter because all he can think about is... You did that? All of that... for him?

The grocery trip took longer, not because you were being difficult, but because you cared. You cared enough to hunt down his favorite snack—Twinkies, of all things—like it actually mattered.

He swallows, feeling an unexpected lump in his throat. It's such a small gesture, something others might dismiss as trivial. But for fuck's sake, this is Jungkook we're talking about. He feels all tingly, almost giddy, because you really went out of your way, just for him, just for his silly little Twinkies. 

Soon enough, Yoongi and Jimin bid their goodbyes, slipping out the door and you turn to Jungkook with a soft smile. "I swear, Jimin's so annoying." you shake your head, though the fondness in your voice betrays any real annoyance.

Jungkook chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he follows you into the living room. "Yeah, but he's still your best friend." he says making you playfully roll your eyes. 

"Anyways, I'm gonna be in my room. Need to film this tiktok for some skincare brand." you sigh, already mentally preparing yourself for the ordeal and Jungkook nods, leaning lazily against the couch. "What do you wanna do for dinner? Takeout?" he asks. 

You pause, glancing over your shoulder. "Yeah, takeout sounds good to me." you agree and he gives a thumbs-up, pushing off the couch to head towards his own room. But just as your hand wraps around your door knob, his voice gently calls out to you. "Y/n."

You hum in response, turning to find him standing by his door. His eyes are warm and his expression is softer than usual, almost tender. There's a brief pause before he opens his mouth. "Thanks for getting me the Twinkies." he says.

His words catch you off guard and you can't help but laugh, though it's more bashful than anything. "I swear, Jimin was just being so overdramatic. It's really not that big of a deal, Kook. I'll always get you Twinkies." you say, shaking your head and trying to brush it off, though the way Jungkook's gaze lingers on you makes your heart flutter just a little.

"Anyways, let me know when you're ordering the food, okay?" you say softly after a beat and before he can respond, you slip into your room, closing the door behind you. And as you lean back against it for a brief moment, a small smile tugs at your lips because somehow, a simple thank you from Jungkook feels like the sweetest thing you've heard all day.

Suddenly, your phone buzzes in your pocket, pulling you from your thoughts. You reach for it, already anticipating the email notification that greets you. 

Sure enough, it's from Mr. Jang, subject line unmistakable—his list of partners for the assignment. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, the familiar sense of dread settling in as you brace yourself for the inevitable revelation. 

You swipe to open the email, preparing for whatever name awaits you on the other side, hoping for the best but fearing the worst.

"So, who's your partner?" Jimin questions, sliding into his usual spot beside you. "Some guy named... Jaehyun?" you answer, unsure. "Jaehyun?" Jimin echoes, trying to see if the name sparks any recognition, but nothing comes to mind. 

This class is so huge that it's nearly impossible to keep track of everyone's name and face.

"Yeah, I have no clue who he is." you say, shrugging. "Anyways, who's yours?" you ask and Jimin's grin widens. "It's Namjoon."

You gasp. Namjoon—the genius of the class, the one whose name you've heard so many times that it's become a staple in your memory. That explains why you recognize his name and face in this sea of unfamiliar ones.

"You lucky bastard." you say, shaking your head. "I know, right?" Jimin leans back, practically glowing with excitement. "Being partners with Namjoon means that an A is already in the bag."

You exhale a resigned sigh, because all you can do right now is only hope that this Jaehyun guy is someone kind and easy to work with but before you can get further lost in your thoughts, a voice interrupts. 

"Hey."

You and Jimin both look up to see a man standing in front of your desk with his gaze fixed on you. You blink, wondering what he wants. You've seen him around class a few times, but you genuinely have no idea who he is.

"Hi...?" you say, unsure, and the man chuckles softly, quickly realizing that you don't recognize him. "I'm Jaehyun... You're Y/n, right?" His tone is steady, and that's when it clicks, He's your partner for the assignment. 

"Oh hey! Sorry, I'm just so bad with names and faces." you giggle sheepishly as you stand up. "It's alright." Jaehyun replies with a reassuring smile. 

"Anyways..." he continues. "Since we're working on the assignment together, I just wanted to know how you'd like to start." His voice is calm and serious, and the sincerity in his tone brings an odd sense of relief because he sounds like someone who actually cares about the work.

"Oh, um..." you pause for a second, thinking. You know that most people prefer working in the library or just doing it remotely over video calls. But you'd prefer a more personal, comfortable setting, a place where both of you can freely share your ideas and thoughts without feeling rushed.

"We can start working on it at my place... it's near the campus." you suggest. "But if you have any other preferen—"

"Your place sounds fine." Jaehyun interjects with a smile and you nod at his words. "Here's my number." he says, sliding a small piece of paper on your desk. "Text me the address."

Before you can respond, the professor strides into the room, commanding everyone's attention. The casual chatter across the lecture hall dissolves into the rustling of notebooks and the scraping of chairs as people rush to their seats.

"I'll catch you later, yeah?" Jaehyun says smoothly, flashing you one last smile before turning on his heel. 

You offer a polite smile back, but the moment he's out of earshot, Jimin leans in, exhaling dramatically like he's just witnessed a divine apparition. "Wow. That is one good-looking man." His eyes are wide with faux awe, clutching his chest like he's been personally affected.

You snort, giving him a pointed look. "Bro, you literally have a boyfriend." you deadpan, narrowing your eyes playfully and Jimin gasps, clutching his imaginary pearls. "What, I can't admire God's work? Yoongi would understand." He winks, and you roll your eyes, fighting back a laugh.

But honestly? Jaehyun's face is the last thing on your mind right now. Looks mean nothing if he turns out to be unreliable.

At this point, all you care about is getting this assignment done. As long as he's easy to communicate with and doesn't disappear off the face of the earth when deadlines hit, you'll be more than satisfied.

Jungkook is perched on the couch, his brows furrowed in deep concentration as he stares intently at the ridiculously huge 17x17 rubik's cube in his hands. He's been trying to solve this for a month now, with no tutorials or help, and he's starting to wonder if he's just too dumb for it.

Each twist feels like it could either be a small victory or an impending catastrophe, and the stakes couldn't feel higher. Every so often, he flicks his wrist or makes some bizarre hand motion that only he understands, like he's performing a ritual to appease the rubik's cube gods.

But just as he's about to make a breakthrough, the doorbell rings, and Jungkook hisses in frustration, as if the universe itself is conspiring to distract him. He reluctantly places the cube on the coffee table, and just as he starts to rise from the couch to answer the door, you're already darting towards it.

He sits back down, wondering if it's just one of those PR package deliveries again and brings his focus back on the cube. But his concentration flickers and dies the moment he hears a deep and unfamiliar voice floating in from the doorway.

"Come on in." he hears you say and Jungkook's head snaps up, curiosity prickling at his chest as he cranes his neck towards the entrance. 

He's expecting maybe a delivery guy asking for a signature, or one of your friends like Jimin or someone, dropping by to gossip, but instead, he sees you stepping inside with someone unknown trailing closely behind you.

The guy is tall and lean, with a backpack hanging loosely off one shoulder, moving with that effortless kind of charm and the moment he steps in, his gaze sweeps over the room, before landing on Jungkook on the couch. 

There's a flicker of something in his eyes but it shifts almost immediately to the oversized rubik's cube sitting on the coffee table and Jungkook is quick to notice the way the guy's lips twitch, pressing together like he's clearly holding something back.

"Oh, Kook! This is Jaehyun." you say when your eyes catch his from across the room. You gesture back at the guy, who offers a lopsided smile. "We're working on an assignment together."

Jungkook blinks, scrambling for a response, but his tongue feels annoyingly slow. "Sup, dude?" Jaehyun greets, casual, a little too confident. There's a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, subtle but it's definitely there—the kind that's easy to miss if you aren't looking closely but the thing is, Jungkook is looking closely.

And for some reason, it rubs him the wrong way.

He's no stranger to you bringing study or assignment partners home—it's normal, part of your routine. He's done the same, though every time it feels like he's navigating social quicksand, stumbling through small talk and hoping the other person doesn't pick up on his awkwardness.

Still, he stands, out of habit more than anything, flashing a small, awkward smile. "Hey."

Jaehyun exhales a soft, amused huff, like he's holding back a laugh, and Jungkook can't tell if it's just his usual demeanor or if there's something else laced beneath it. Something condescending. But before Jungkook can figure it out, you're already moving.

"Anyways, we'll be in my room, okay?" you inform him with a quick smile, not waiting for a reply as you lead Jaehyun down the hall and before Jungkook can muster a response, the door to your room clicks shut.

He drops back onto the couch, the rubik's cube long forgotten on the coffee table. 

There's this thing—this gut feeling people talk about. This instinct, this unspoken warning system buried deep in your subconscious. Sometimes it's a tightening in your chest, a sudden shift in your pulse, or just a quiet, nagging whisper at the back of your mind, hinting at something your conscious brain hasn't quite caught up to yet. 

It's primal, wired into human nature... the kind of feeling that makes you hesitate before stepping into the dark, or glance over your shoulder without knowing why.

And right now, that very feeling is sinking its teeth into Jungkook.

He can't explain it, can't put his finger on a single, tangible reason, but something about Jaehyun, his eyes, his stance, the way he carries himself—feels... off.

Not in an obvious way. Not in a way he could call out without sounding ridiculous.

He runs a hand through his hair, shaking it off. Maybe he's overthinking it. Maybe he's just being protective... or worse, maybe he's being jealous.

But his gut is still whispering.

And Jungkook's learned not to ignore that.

Surprisingly—and to your great relief—Jaehyun turns out to be an easygoing and cooperative partner. The last hour has been spent deep in discussion, bouncing ideas off each other, sifting through potential research topics, and, somehow, it doesn't feel suffocating.

Jaehyun listens attentively, considers your inputs, and offers his own without steamrolling over yours. It's honestly refreshing.

"So, I guess this is it, then." you say, nodding in satisfaction once the final topic is settled. Jaehyun mirrors your nod, a small grin playing at his lips. "Didn't peg Miss Popular as the type to actually lock in when it comes to assignments." he teases.

You gasp dramatically, placing a hand over your chest. "Excuse you, I take my academic life very seriously."

"Oh yeah?" He tilts his head. "So if I check your screen time right now, I won't find an ungodly number of hours spent on tiktok and Instagram?"

"First of all...." you say, pointing a finger at him. "That's classified information. Second of all, it's kind of like my job at this point."

Jaehyun laughs, shaking his head. "Right, right. Job."

You roll your eyes but can't help but chuckle along.

"Anyways..." he leans back in his chair. "How'd you even get into this whole content creation thing?"

You know you should probably steer the conversation back to the assignment, but honestly? You don't mind. Jaehyun seems reliable enough, and besides, a little break never hurt anyone.

"Well...." you start, a little sheepishly, "I was a Vine kid." you say but before you can continue Jaehyun's eyes widen in an instant. "Wait, Vine? As in, six-second goldmine Vine? The superior app?"

"You know about Vine too ?!??!" You gasp, placing a hand over your heart again. "Oh my god. I thought I was alone in this cruel world."

Jaehyun scoffs. "Are you kidding? I lived on that app. To this day, I still quote Vines like it's a second language."

"No, because same." You lean forward, suddenly excited. "Like, I can't go one day without referencing 'It is Wednesday, my dudes—'"

Jaehyun, without missing a beat, throws his head back and screams. "AAAAAAAAH."

(A/N: SORRY GUYSFGJERHG, I WAS A VINE KID—I JUST HAAAD TOOOO. anyways, if you don't get the reference, check this link out hehe)

You burst out laughing, slamming your hand on your desk. "Oh my god. A fellow Vine scholar."

"Finally." he sighs dramatically. "Someone who understands."

You shake your head, still chuckling. "But yeah, I used to make Vines of my own too—though we are not going to talk about that." You cringe at the memory, suppressing a shudder. "So that's where my whole content creation passion came from. Except now, my content is more... I don't know, just stuff I actually enjoy doing." You shrug, and Jaehyun nods in understanding.

"I follow you on tiktok, by the way." He grins, tilting his head slightly. "And I gotta say, your content's pretty fire."

"Oh, really?" You smirk, narrowing your eyes playfully. "Then tell me—what eyeshadow palette did I review in my last video?" You cross your arms, arching a brow because you know damn well your content isn't exactly tailored for a guy like Jaehyun. But teasing him is too tempting to resist.

Jaehyun groans, throwing his head back. "Hey, come on, don't do me like that." he protests, laughing. "I was talking about your other stuff—like your random vlogs, your outfit checks, oh, um—your little roommate series."

"Ah, yes." You nod. "The roommate series' main star was the poor soul you saw in the living room earlier." You giggle, thinking of Jungkook's stiff face every time your camera is in his personal space. "He's my little unpaid intern." You grin, and Jaehyun laughs along.

"Yeah, I noticed. He's on your page a lot." Jaehyun muses, eyes narrowing slightly like he's piecing something together. "I've been wondering though... How do you even convince him to join in? He seems like the... shy type."

You giggle, leaning back into your chair. "Oh, he is shy—painfully so. But..." your voice softens, "He's also the sweetest person you'll ever meet. Never complains. Even when I make him do the dumbest skits, he just goes along with it." A fond smile tugs at your lips.

Before Jaehyun can respond, his phone buzzes. He checks it quickly, before letting out a breath. "Ah, looks like I gotta head out." he says and you nod understandingly. He stands and you follow suit as he slings his backpack over his shoulder in one fluid motion. "Cool, we'll see each other again..." you start.

"Day after tomorrow." Jaehyun finishes with a small smile, and you nod.

"Right. See you then." And with that, he walks out.

Once the door clicks shut behind Jaehyun, you linger for a moment before stepping further into the living room and your gaze naturally falls on the oversized rubik's cube, still half-solved on the coffee table and you wonder what Jungkook's up to right now.

And just then, it's the soft, rapid staccato of mouse and keyboard clicks that draws your attention, so you make your way towards Jungkook's room and as expected, he's there— perched at his desk, headset on, eyes locked onto the screen, fingers moving furiously as he navigates through his Minecraft world. 

You inch closer. "Hey." you call, giving his shoulder a gentle poke. Jungkook jumps slightly, wide eyes snapping to you as he hurriedly pulls off his headset. "Oh—hey." he breathes out, his voice tinged with the faintest trace of surprise.

His eyes flicker past you, towards the door, and for a brief moment he wonders if Jaehyun's  gone. You don't notice it, but Jungkook's chest eases a little when he realizes the guy's probably left.

He won't admit it out aloud, but the only reason he'd abandoned his rubik's cube and holed himself up in his room with the volume cranked up on his game, was to drown out the sound of your laughter echoing from behind the closed door of your bedroom.

He'd told himself not to think too much about it, but the longer he sat there, the more the warmth in your voice with Jaehyun grated against something he couldn't quite name. So, he'd escaped, to blocks and biomes, anything to block it out.

"What do you want for dinner?" you ask. "I was thinking... ramen?"

"Ramen... yeah, ramen sounds good." He nods, already starting to push himself up from his chair, ready to help. But you wave him off with a soft laugh. "Hey, I've got this. You can keep playing. I'll handle the ramen." you assure him, already turning towards the door to leave.

Jungkook opens his mouth to protest, because he always wants to help out, but you're gone before he can.

He stays there, watching the spot where you stood for a beat longer than he needs to, before sinking back into his chair. The Minecraft screen flickers at him, but his focus is elsewhere as his fingers hover over the keys.

That gut feeling... the one that first crept in when Jaehyun walked through the door, still stubbornly sits heavy in his chest. But Jungkook exhales, shaking his head as if to clear it. It's not that deep.

He's just an assignment partner, after all.

Right?

Days drift by, and Jaehyun's visits have grown more frequent—so frequent that his presence has begun to settle into the corners of your shared apartment like it belongs there.

Jungkook has started to notice things—small, seemingly insignificant at first, but they begin to pile up like pebbles forming a mountain he can't ignore.

It's hard to miss how comfortable you've grown with Jaehyun. There's an ease to the way your laughter bubbles up at his jokes, the way your hand instinctively swats at his arm or chest when he teases you. It's playful—sure—but it leaves Jungkook with a faint, inexplicable unease.

He tries to brush it off. He really does.

Most days, he sees you both working, heads bent together over your laptops, furrowed brows, quiet discussions filling the living room or your bedroom. There's a seriousness to the project that he can't deny, especially in you because Jungkook knows how dedicated you are when it comes to assignments and projects.

But even then, Jaehyun has a way of slipping in like tossing a joke here or a teasing comment there and suddenly, the air visibly shifts. The work pauses and laughter spills out.

And then there are moments—moments like yesterday—that cling to Jungkook's memory like a thorn.

He had walked in to see Jaehyun playfully locking you in a loose headlock while you laughed, elbowing him in the stomach to break free, but the sight lodged itself in Jungkook's chest like a stone.

It was harmless, he told himself. Just friends messing around. But it was the details that lingered—the way Jaehyun's grin stretched wide, the way your laughter rang unrestrained, the way you leaned into his touch instead of pulling away. The way you didn't seem to mind him being so close.

And then there's the other thing. The part that unsettles Jungkook the most.

The look.

Every time Jaehyun is over, he throws a look at Jungkook and he instantly catches it. A look, which is fleeting but definitely intentional. The kind that seems casual on the surface but holds an undercurrent of something else. Something off.

It's not an open challenge, not exactly. Nor is it the the casual acknowledgment guys sometimes exchange to break the ice. It's subtler, more calculated... like Jaehyun's sizing him up, or worse, like he already knows something Jungkook doesn't.

It's the kind of look that worms under his skin.

The kind that feels like someone is quietly staking a claim on something you thought was yours.

And Jungkook hates it. He hates the way it's taking root inside him, how it makes his chest tighten and his jaw clench. He hates that he cares this much. That he even feels like he has something to lose.

But no matter how much he tries to rationalize it, how many times he tells himself he's imagining it... that gut feeling, that unrelenting instinct—remains.

Something about Jaehyun just doesn't sit right.

Right now, Jungkook remains perched on the edge of the kitchen island, one hand resting on the cool surface while the other hovers over his laptop's trackpad. He's trying—really trying—to stay focused on the test flashing across his screen, some tedious but necessary module assessment that's part of his course requirements.

But he can hear your voice, and Jaehyun's, drifting from your room nearby like an unwelcome undercurrent. Jungkook clenches his jaw, trying to drown it out. He knows it's nothing, knows that you're just working on your project. But the sound gets under his skin anyway.

A few minutes pass before he hears the creak of your door opening, followed by footsteps padding down the hallway. Within seconds, Jaehyun appears—tall frame moving with that easy confidence that's begun to grate on Jungkook's nerves. His eyes sweep the room lazily before landing on Jungkook.

"Sup, dude?" Jaehyun greets, casual, almost dismissive, and there's something in the way his gaze flicks over Jungkook that feels vaguely patronizing. Like he's acknowledging him out of obligation, not respect. Like he's the one who lives here and Jungkook's the guest. 

Jungkook forces a nod in acknowledgment, fingers tightening around his laptop. Without waiting for a response, Jaehyun strolls past him, straight to the fridge. "Just grabbing some water." he mutters over his shoulder—like he's entitled to whatever's in there.

Jungkook says nothing, eyes flicking back to his screen. He taps his keyboard, more out of habit than intent, willing himself to tune it all out.

The cap of the water bottle twists open with a soft crack, followed by the sound of Jaehyun taking a long sip. Then he moves closer... almost too close, positioning himself beside the island, his body leaning in ever so slightly as he peers at Jungkook's screen.

"What you up to, man?" he asks, voice still light but carrying that underlying tone, like he already knows whatever Jungkook's doing is probably boring. Probably beneath him.

Jungkook stiffens, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. He can feel Jaehyun's eyes trailing over his laptop screen, taking in the lines of code and multiple-choice questions.

"It's just a test. Course requirement." Jungkook mutters, trying to keep his voice neutral.

"Ahhh... you're a computer science major, right?" His tone is laced with curiosity, but not the genuine kind. It's the kind that holds the faintest trace of mockery. The kind that makes you feel like you need to justify yourself.

Jungkook nods, curtly. "Yeah."

Jaehyun lets out a low, drawn-out whistle, followed by a chuckle. "Damn. Computer science, huh? That's... intense." He laughs before taking another sip of his water, the bottle crinkling slightly under his grip. "Must be tough. All those... codes and... what? Algorithms?" He gestures lazily towards the screen, eyes narrowing.

Jungkook doesn't like the way he says it—like it's a joke, like it's something trivial. Like Jungkook's effort is something to be amused by. "Yeah. Algorithms." he mutters, trying to sound unaffected, though he can feel his patience thinning.

Jaehyun leans in a little, his shadow creeping over the laptop screen. He squints at the test, eyes skimming over the technical jargon as though he's deciphering it, though Jungkook doubts he understands much of it.

"Man... that looks brutal. Don't know how you guys do it. I'd probably lose my mind staring at that stuff all day." He laughs, but it's laced with something condescending, like he's making it clear that he wouldn't waste his time on something so tedious.

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek.

"Guess you gotta be built different for that whole... nerd life, huh?" Jaehyun adds, smirking as he takes another sip.

Jungkook forces a tight smile, but his fingers tighten against the edge of his laptop. He feels the implication of it—the way Jaehyun's not just making conversation. He's dissecting him. Testing him. Seeing what gets a reaction. Measuring him up like he's weighing his worth and already finding him lacking.

Jungkook breathes slowly through his nose, fighting the urge to snap back. He's not going to give Jaehyun that satisfaction. Instead, he shifts slightly in his seat, subtly angling his screen away.

"Yeah." he says flatly. "Guess you do."

Jaehyun lingers a moment longer, like he's waiting for more—like he's hoping for a crack to show. But when none comes, he finally steps back, draining the rest of his water.

"Respect, man. Couldn't be me." He the proceeds to clap Jungkook on the shoulder—harder than necessary, his hand lingering for just a second too long before he pulls away. There's something weird about the gesture, like he's asserting dominance.

Then he steps back, water bottle still in hand, eyes sweeping over Jungkook one last time like he's taking stock—cataloging him, filing him away under less than. Like he's already decided he's better.

"You keep doing your thing, though." Jaehyun adds, voice dripping with false encouragement. "The nerd life's gotta pay off someday, right?" He laughs, turning on his heel, and before Jungkook can respond, he's already strolling back towards your room.

Jungkook stares at his laptop screen, but the words blur into a mess of symbols and frustration. His chest tightens with a mix of anger and something closer to humiliation.

Jaehyun knew exactly what he was doing.

And it worked.

Jungkook forces himself to return his focus to the screen. There's no reason—no logical reason—why he should let a guy like Jaehyun get under his skin and make him feel bad about himself—his major, his choices, or anything else for that matter.

He knows exactly the kind of guy Jaehyun is.

The kind who carries himself like he's untouchable, like he's a step ahead of everyone else. The kind who doesn't even have to say it outright to make you feel like you're somehow beneath him.

Guys like Jaehyun think they're on another level... effortlessly charismatic, naturally better, always in control. And maybe, for the most part, they are. But Jungkook refuses to be another person who feeds into that delusion.

So he brushes it off, squares his shoulders, tightens his grip on his laptop, and forces his attention back to his test.

Nearly half an hour passes.

He's managed to focus, even if it took effort, even if his brain kept replaying snippets of the earlier conversation in the background. But then, the sound of your bedroom door opening breaks his concentration again.

This time, it's you walking out first, your laptop tucked under one arm. Jaehyun follows a few seconds later, slinging his backpack over one shoulder with the ease of someone who doesn't have a single worry in the world.

"So, now that we have enough data collected on consumer spending trends across different income brackets, we should start working on the outline of the paper by next week." you say, your voice casual but firm as you lead Jaehyun towards the door.

Jungkook glances up just in time to catch the usual faint smirk Jaehyun throws his way. The same smug, knowing look that makes his skin prickle. Still, as usual, Jungkook ignores it, his fingers tightening against the laptop's edge as he looks back at his screen.

As you reach the doorway, Jaehyun continues to nod at your words. "Cool." he mumbles, proceeding to slip into his shoes. He straightens up as his fingers adjust the strap of his backpack.

He turns around, ready to leave, but suddenly, his hand reaches for the doorknob but stops midway, and you, noticing the pause, tilt your head slightly in question. "Everything good, Jae?" you ask.

Jaehyun turns around, a sheepish smile creeping onto his lips, like something just occurred to him. "Oh, um..." He rubs the back of his neck, playing it off casually. "I was just wondering... it's pretty late, so do you maybe wanna grab dinner together?"

Jungkook, still perched at the kitchen island, picks up on the sudden question instantly and his fingers halt over the keyboard. His back stiffens but his eyes remain fixed on the screen as he waits for you to respond.

"Dinner?" You echo, blinking as though you need a second to let it register. "Oh... yeah, dinner sounds good." you say with a small nod.

Jaehyun's lips twitch into a subtle grin—an almost imperceptible curve of victory, like he's already claimed what he was after. But before he can solidify his win, before he can turn that small triumph into something more, you cut through it with your gentle, unaffected voice.

"Let me ask Kook to join us too!" you chirp, turning back towards the living room without a second thought. "Wouldn't want him to cook alone, you know?"

Jaehyun freezes for half a beat, blinking as the easy confidence slips just slightly from his face. That? That was not what he had in mind.

He was envisioning something different... just the two of you, a quiet dinner where he could lean in close and talk, make you laugh, maybe inch his way into something more. What he wasn't expecting was for you to bring your nerdy roommate along.

Jungkook, from his place in the apartment, hears the shuffle of your feet as you approach him, and he already knows what's coming. He knows you so well. Knew you'd never leave him behind.

For a moment, he lets himself exhale, the knot that had been coiling in his chest loosening just a little. He had braced himself for the possibility of you heading out alone with Jaehyun, braced for the discomfort, the overthinking that would haunt him for the rest of the night.

But you, being you, the sweet angel that you are, would obviously never leave him behind. And that thought, even if it's just for dinner, makes him feel all giddy.

He can already picture the mild irritation on Jaehyun's face. The guy's probably seething behind that polite mask, regretting ever asking in the first place. That thought alone tugs a subtle smirk onto Jungkook's lips... small and barely noticeable, but it's still there nonetheless.

"Kook, me and Jaehyun are going to grab dinner. Wanna come with?" You say it so casually, so sweetly, like it's the most natural thing in the world. Like his presence would only make the evening better.

So, who the hell is he to say no to that? Not when you're looking at him like that—eyes sparkling like stardust, lips curled into that soft, pretty smile that feels like it was made just for him. Like you hung the moon without even trying.

And sure, on any other night, he'd probably hate the thought of sitting through a meal with a stranger, especially someone like Jaehyun, but tonight? Tonight, he wants nothing more than to tag along and be there.

Even if it means enduring Jaehyun's smugness. Even if it means biting his tongue until his jaw aches. Even if it means sitting through forced conversations and subtle digs, pretending not to notice the way Jaehyun acts like he's beneath him or whatever. 

Because in the end, being there with you, will always outweigh all of that.

Jaehyun clenches his fists at his sides, as he struggles to maintain the polite, easy-going smile he's perfected over time. It's taking every ounce of self-restraint not to let his irritation seep through as he watches you animatedly chatter about some random show, while your arm remains casually looped around Jungkook's.

Not only does he have to tolerate the presence of this insufferable nerd, but he also has to witness the two of you nestled so comfortably together? This was definitely not the kind of evening he was looking forward to.

Jungkook, on the other hand, barely registers Jaehyun's existence anymore.

He's too caught up in you—smiling to himself as he listens to your endless rambling, the kind that always veers off into tangents, hopping from plot twists to character arcs, and somehow looping back to an inside joke only the two of you understand.

He's so absorbed, so content, that he's forgotten Jaehyun is even trailing along beside you.

"Oh! There's the diner!" you suddenly exclaim, your eyes lighting up as you point towards the familiar spot, the little place you and Jungkook have frequented on countless lazy nights when cooking felt like too much work.

"Let's go." Jaehyun forces out with a nod, plastering on a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He trails behind as you tug Jungkook forward, still holding onto his arm, leaving Jaehyun feeling like the third wheel he never expected to be.

When you step into the diner, you and Jungkook instinctively drift towards your usual table by the window, the one that's practically become yours over time and Jaehyun trails behind, his eyes briefly scanning the place before settling on the two of you.

"You guys get comfortable—I'll go place the order." you chime, your voice light with excitement as Jungkook nods, taking a seat. "Me and Kook are getting our usual burgers... what about you, Jaehyun?" you ask, your smile bright.

Jaehyun shifts in his seat, lowering himself across from Jungkook. "Oh... yeah, I guess I'll have the burger too." he replies, attempting casualness. "Perfect!" you beam, giving a little thumbs-up before turning on your heel and heading towards the counter.

Jungkook and Jaehyun sit face to face, the absence of your warmth leaving a tangible void between them, like the air itself cools the second you step away.

Jungkook has never been good at eye contact; it's always made him feel exposed, like someone could see right through him. But this time, he forces himself to hold Jaehyun's gaze. It's not confidence, it's defiance.

A quiet, stubborn refusal to let Jaehyun think he holds any power here. That his presence, his smirks, his calculated little victories, could ever rattle him.

Jaehyun leans back slightly, arms crossing over his chest, eyes narrowing just the faintest bit. He lets out a breathy scoff and neither of them say a word, but the tension hums louder than any conversation could.

Their eyes lock like two opposing forces testing the limits of the space they share. It's almost childish, this silent standoff, but they're both not willing to be the first to look away. It's as though they're shooting invisible lasers through their pupils, measuring each other in the quietest, most passive-aggressive battle known to man.

"Here we go..." you sing-song, balancing a tray with three burgers and a generous side of fries as you make your way back to the table. You're blissfully unaware of the silent warzone you're about to walk into.

Both Jungkook and Jaehyun immediately snap out of their intense, wordless staring contest, their gazes shifting to you with something alarmingly close to desperation. The air between them, once brimming with unspoken rivalry, pauses, suspended by a single, all-important question.

Where are you going to sit?

There's an empty spot beside each of them, and for a brief second, they're both holding their breaths, like their entire evening depends on this one moment. It's ridiculous, really, two grown men waiting like nervous schoolboys to see which side you'll choose, as though your choice is about to crown the evening's winner.

You place the tray on the table, eyes flitting between the two empty seats as if you're carefully weighing your options.

Truthfully, you're not.

Your phone’s battery is barely hanging on, and the seat beside Jaehyun just so happens to be the closest to the charging socket—that’s all there is to it.

 You need your phone to keep up with your little ritual of posting an Instagram story of your meal, something you’ve done every time you visit this diner. And since you forgot to bring your power bank, the charging socket is your only saving grace.

So when you step towards the chair next to Jaehyun, he shifts slightly, trying to mask his triumph under the guise of casual nonchalance.

He raises a hand to his mouth, rubbing at his jaw and the subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his lips doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook who, watches the scene unfold from across the table, already mentally preparing himself for an evening of internal suffering.

But when you pull out the chair—you pause.

Your nose scrunches, eyes narrowing as you spot a faint, dried-up glob of what looks suspiciously like mayo crusted onto the edge of the seat. It's small, barely noticeable, but enough to make you grimace.

"Hey, Jae... would you mind shifting there?" you question, pointing to the seat next to Jungkook.

Both men freeze.

Jaehyun's smirk drops so fast it's almost audible, replaced by wide-eyed disbelief while Jungkook's brows flick upwards in surprise, mouth parting slightly before he schools his face back into something neutral, though the barely-there twitch at the corner of his lips betrays him.

This... this was not the outcome either of them had prepared for, but it's safe to say Jungkook's partly satisfied.

Jaehyun however, hesitates, like he's considering protesting, but you quickly flash him that sheepish, apologetic grin, the one that makes it impossible to say no to you. "I'm so sorry... This seat's a little dirty plus I really need to charge my phone, and the socket's right here." you explain, pointing to the outlet on the wall.

Jaehyun forces out a tight smile. "Yeah, of course... No problem." he says, standing up to move to the other seat, landing next to Jungkook with the enthusiasm of someone being sentenced to life in prison.

You flash him a sweet, oblivious smile before finally settling into the seat and plugging in your charger with a small, satisfied hum.

Soon enough, the meal is underway. Conversation flows easily—well, mostly between you and Jaehyun. The two of you chat about random classes and how brutal last week's quiz was, nothing too deep, but enough to make Jungkook feel like a third wheel at a study date he never agreed to.

He picks at his fries, half-listening, half-zoning out, until suddenly, you burst into laughter—loud and unfiltered, the kind that makes your eyes squeeze shut and your hand fly up to cover your mouth and it jolts Jungkook back into the present. 

His gaze flicks to you instantly because when you laugh like that, everything else just fades. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes crinkled at the corners, that light, breathless giggle spilling out like music.

And dammit, Jaehyun, out of all people, is the one who made you laugh and somehow, that realization makes Jungkook bites into his burger a little too aggressive, like it personally offended him.

"No, but seriously..." Jaehyun continues, fighting back his own laughter. "First week of college, right? I'm at this super boring seminar. Room's packed. Everyone's dead silent and the professor's giving this whole speech about the meaning of existence or whatever—like, proper 'stare into the void' kinda stuff."

Jungkook has no idea where this is going, and even though he doesn't particularly want to care, he still listens. Because, seriously, what could possibly be so funny?

"But I was bored out of my mind, right? So, I sneak out my phone—'cause obviously, I'd rather watch something on my phone than spiral into an existential crisis." Jaehyun says and you giggle, nodding along, fully invested.

"But guess what? My phone's on full volume. And out of nowhere—like, cutting through all this profound silence, it goes: 'HURRICANE KATRINA? MORE LIKE HURRICANE TORTILLA!'"

(vine reference link)

You absolutely lose it, slapping the table as laughter erupts from you. "STOP—NOT HURRICANE TORTILLA—" you wheeze, clutching your stomach.

Jungkook pauses mid-chew, eyes narrowing slightly as he wonders what the hell is a... hurricane tortilla? He glances between you two, trying to decode what exactly has you guys dying.

Jaehyun keeps going. "The professor stops talking and the whole room just goes... dead silent and everyone's looking at me like I just committed a crime while I'm just sitting there like—'welp, guess I'll drop out.'"

"I—oh my god—I can't—'hurricane tortilla'—I'm actually cryinggg." you gasp between fits of laughter, wiping at the tears gathering in your eyes. Jungkook just blinks, utterly lost. He leans in slightly, brows furrowed. "...What's a hurricane tortilla?"

Jaehyun's head snaps towards him, eyes widening with exaggerated disbelief. "No way. You're joking, right?" He lets out a sharp laugh, dripping with condescension. "Y/n, you're telling me you live with this uncultured man who doesn't know what a hurricane tortilla is?"

You don't dignify Jaehyun's snide remark with a response. Instead, you turn to Jungkook with a soft smile, the kind that instantly disarms him. Your eyes hold nothing but warmth, no trace of ridicule.

You know he doesn't keep up with this kind of stuff, and that's okay. There's nothing to be ashamed of.

"Oh, Kook." you murmur. "It's just a vine. Remember? Those short, funny videos I showed you? Like six seconds long?"

Jungkook's expression softens as the memory washes over him. Of course, he remembers.

That afternoon on the couch, when you had excitedly told him you wanted to show him some "vines". Truthfully, he hadn't really gotten most of them. Some flew right over his head, and he barely found them funny. But he'd never admit it aloud because, honestly, it was never about the vines.

It was about you. The way you had curled up beside him, so close that your shoulder pressed into his while your bright laughter spilled freely, like music that played just for him. The way you'd nudge him with your elbow whenever you found something extremely funny, your pretty eyes crinkling with joy as if inviting him to share in that happiness.

He remembers how his heart raced more from the warmth of your thigh brushing against his than from anything on the screen. How every time you leaned in, laughing so hard you could barely breathe, felt like he could drown completely in the sound of it and never come up for air.

And most of all, he remembers how he didn't want it to end. 

How he could've stayed there, just like that, for hours—watching videos that barely made any sense to him, but that's okay, because getting to hear you laugh like that was all that truly mattered. 

"Yeah... I remember." he says after a beat, a small, almost bashful smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah so, the hurricane tortilla thing? It's just from one of those." you explain, still sweet, still patient, like you're always willing to meet him where he's at.

Eventually, you all wrap up at the diner and step out. The tension between Jungkook and Jaehyun still remains unnoticed by you while they exchange subtle glares, every few minutes, each one laced with unspoken rivalry.

"So, I guess we'll head back now." you say, standing on the pavement with your hands inside your pockets, protecting yourself from the night breeze. Jaehyun gives Jungkook one last look, a brief, pointed glance that's more challenge than farewell, before turning to you with a smile.

And then, without warning, he steps forward, arms looping around you in an embrace. It catches you off guard, but you don't hesitate to return the hug, your arms wrapping around his shoulders with ease, though there's a flicker of surprise in your eyes.

Jungkook, on the other hand, stiffens. His jaw tightens, fists curling at his sides as he watches Jaehyun's arms settle a little too comfortably around your waist. It's not just the hug that gets to him—it's the way Jaehyun looks at him over your shoulder, a smug, knowing smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

Like he's winning.

And maybe he is. At least, that's what it feels like to Jungkook in that moment.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow." Jaehyun breathes out as he pulls away, his hand lingering a second too long on your waist. You nod, smiling, completely unaware of the silent battle that's just taken place right behind your back.

"See you around, dude." Jaehyun adds, tossing Jungkook a dismissive nod before turning on his heel and strolling away with all the confidence of someone who thinks he's just claimed victory.

Jungkook exhales slowly, forcing his fists to uncurl at his sides, trying to tame the little green goblin of jealousy that a single hug has so effortlessly stirred to life.

"Let's go, Kook?" Your gentle voice pulls him out of his thoughts. He blinks, looking at you, your eyes bright under the streetlights and his silly little heart stumbles over itself as usual. "I—uhh... yeah. Of course." he stammers, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

The night air is cool, wrapping around you in a gentle breeze as the streets hum with distant traffic. Neon shop signs flicker, casting fleeting shades of color onto the pavement as you and Jungkook walk side by side.

You let out a satisfied hum, rubbing a hand over your stomach. "I swear, I'm never getting tired of that diner." you giggle, and Jungkook glances at you, the corners of his lips curling up. "I think at this point, they should just name a booth after you." he teases.

You gasp dramatically, placing a hand over your chest. "That would be the dream, honestly. But it's not just me, you know? You've been there as much as I have. So I guess we both deserve a picture on the wall that says Most Loyal Customers of the Decade."

Jungkook chuckles, shaking his head. "That would be nice, I guess." he says sheepishly.

A comfortable silence settles between you for a moment before you stretch your arms over your head. "Honestly, I'm glad I was able to make Jae try it out." you add casually, glancing at Jungkook and he nods, but his smile dims just slightly.

Maybe it's the way Jaehyun has so easily made his way into this conversation, or maybe it's the casual way you use his nickname... whatever it is, it makes Jungkook's stomach churn in a way he doesn't particularly like.

Plus, the uneasy thoughts have been there for a while, lurking in the back of his mind, but he's always pushed it away. Tonight, though, it feels impossible to ignore. He suddenly wants to know what you really think about Jaehyun—wants to know if you see what he sees or if you're just oblivious to the way Jaehyun acts around you or the way he acts around Jungkook.

Jungkook exhales quietly, debating whether he should even say anything. But before he can stop himself, the words slip out. "So this... Jaehyun guy..." he starts, voice careful, like he's weighing each word before releasing it. You glance at him, curious. "Yeah?"

Jungkook hesitates for a second too long, his gaze fixed ahead as if avoiding your eyes will make this easier. "You guys have gotten pretty close lately." he says, trying to keep his tone neutral.

"Oh, yeah..." You nod, swaying slightly as you walk. "Ever since we became partners for that assignment, we've been hanging out a lot. I mean, it's not anything too deep. It's just... our vibes match, you know?"

Vibes match.

Jungkook draws in a long inhale, his fists tightening inside his pockets. He wonders if his vibe has ever matched yours. You've lived together for so long... have spent late nights talking on the couch, have shared countless meals, have fallen into a rhythm so natural it almost feels like breathing.

But have you ever thought about it like that? Have you ever thought your vibes batch? Yours and His?

You're everything he's not and if Jaehyun's vibe matches yours, then where exactly does that leave Jungkook?

"He's funny." you continue, lips curving into a small smile. "And he gets my humor."

Jungkook hums at that, but the sound comes out a little sharper than he intended. He knows Jaehyun makes you laugh, he's seen it firsthand. Loud, breathless laughter that makes your eyes crinkle, the kind that shakes your whole body.

"But..." Jungkook exhales slowly, trying to sound casual even though the words feel like they're getting stuck on the way out. "I mean... I've noticed he's gotten really... comfortable around you."

He doesn't even know where he's going with this. He just knows it's been bothering him, gnawing at him like an itch he can't scratch. You blink, tilting your head. "What do you mean?"

Jungkook rubs the back of his neck, feeling utterly, painfully awkward. He wants to drop it, but at the same time, he doesn't.

"Like... like how he is at the apartment." he says, forcing the words out. "He just... makes himself at home. Like, he sits on the couch like it's his. He raids the fridge. He—" Jungkook stops himself, brows furrowing. "He acts like he lives there."

You let out a soft laugh, but not in a way that makes him feel dismissed. "Ah, yeah, that's just how he is." you say with a small shrug. Jungkook presses his lips together, the unease still sitting heavy in his chest.

"But what's wrong?" you ask, your voice gentler now, sensing there's more to this than what he's saying. "Does he make you uncomfortable?" You tilt your head, genuine concern etched in your features.

"No... um, no, nothing like that." he denies way too quickly. "I was just wondering if you're comfortable with how he is." He turns it back on you. You smile at that. "Oh, Kook, were you worried about me?" you tease, nudging him playfully.

"Yeah... you... you could say that." His ears burn, and he wishes his mouth would just shut up. "I was just wondering about your dynamic, that's all." he adds, trying to sound nonchalant and you blink at him, amused. 

"Our dynamic?"

Jungkook nods stiffly.

"Like I said, our vibes match." you repeat. "But again, he's just my assignment partner, you know? He's nice to work with and joke around with."

Jungkook nods along, forcing himself to absorb your words, to let them settle the gnawing feeling inside him.

"But if he makes you uncomfortable at the apartment, then I can just go to his place for the assignment, you know? He did ask me to—"

"No !!" Jungkook blurts, way too fast, way too loud and your eyes widen for a brief second.

God, that would be worse. Having you go to Jaehyun's place, where Jungkook wouldn't be around, where he wouldn't know what was happening—where Jaehyun would have the liberty to do anything. That's not even the last thing Jungkook wants.

"No... I meant, he doesn't make me uncomfortable. So please..." He exhales shakily. "Please continue working at our apartment." He doesn't even try to hide the urgency in his voice making you laugh. "Okay, okay." you say, nodding your head. "But do tell me if you're uncomfortable, alright?"

Jungkook nods, lips pressing into a thin line as he watches you. 

You don't see it, don't see the way Jaehyun looks at you, don't see the way he treats Jungkook like an afterthought.

Maybe it's nothing. Maybe he's just overthinking. Maybe he's just being paranoid, reading too much into things that don't mean anything. Maybe it's all in his head. But the irritating, tormenting feeling remains like a dull, nagging weight in his chest that refuses to settle

It feels like something is lodged between his ribs, pressing against his lungs, making every breath feel just a little too tight.

Yet, he exhales slowly, shuts his eyes, and tells himself to let it go, to swallow all the weird thoughts and bury them somewhere they can’t reach him.

Jaehyun's just an assignment partner. 

Nothing more. Nothing deep.

part 2 -> (coming soon)

series masterlist

my masterlist <3

TAGLISTS CLOSED <333

series taglist: @jeontids @satisfied18 @ppeachyttae @star-candyian @jjkluver7 @lovingkoalaface @somisarchive @petalsofink @shellyyy177 @mirinaeii @iamstilljk @ahgasegotarmy116 @jungkooksmytype @luvvminwon @parkinglot-nights @isjwshaidsk @neurospicynugget @vicki1031 @imcamboaf @tatzzz-25 @fsdcande @loverletterfromme2u @wintaemoonjen @heyjiminnie @nbjch05 @primadonnasdream @toosweetforyall @smoljjks @jksusawife @whoa-jo @hyeinwluv85s @diptylkrtk @134340-kr @abbie1847 @sftlrmin @honeeybunneey @xx-untitled @kissyfacekoo @sky-23s-world @meigalaxy @xtrataerrestrial @jenniebyrubies @jaytheatiny @jkxlvrr (if you're not tagged, pls check ur settings)

permanent taglist: @rpwprpwprpwprw @kimyishin @somehowukook @allie-in-the-moon @nightappple @jksoftii @mimi1097 @yooforeaa @jkaxl @jinglthembalslikethat @puppybunnyjkay @jiijeon97 @ninisica @rerefundslocals @kgamboa11 @lizzikoo @madussthoughts @kelsyx33 @mafersame @yoonstaar @autumnbear @yuniesluv @kookxin @priyanshe @turn02 @kgamboa11 @minniejim @yamerulzky @winterarchives @goldenjeonkoo

[meliciousmel13]

̗̗̀̀➛ killer!billie headcannons

paring: killer!billie x bimbo!reader warnings: smut, obsessive behavior, face sitting, stalking? (kind of), billie kills someone here, grinding, i think thats it tell me if you find any more please!

wc: 1,487

SYNOPSIS: headcannons of killer!billie x bimbo!reader

taglist: @chrissv4mp, if your not a part of this list but want to be comment under my tag list post, which is on my masterlist.

an: i wrote this today 💀 IM ON MY PERIODDD and kind of horny ngl

at first, she didn’t think much of you. she thought you were just another co-worker at her boring office job that sometimes brought everyone coffee, like the angel you were.

until she saw her co-worker, oliver, flirt with you. she knew he was flirting with you because he was touching you. he was touching your shoulder, and touching your hair. and touching, and touching. he would stop fucking touching you.

she hated that it irritated her. hated the way you wore things that made people look, like that skimpy top you wore last week, everyone was looking.

the first time you talked to her, you smiled, gave her a tissue wrapped doughnut and black coffee with one sugar cube. said it was nice to meet her and that you were new here.

it’s either you knew her, or just guessed her coffee preference. but you were so thoughtful.

she unknowingly started to follow you to the empty parking lot and find you fumbling with your keys with papers stacked on one arm.

she imagined helping you, taking those papers from you and handing you her number, maybe you call her and invite her to diner or something, anything.

but she never did anything. only savored the way her hand brushes yours whenever you were handing her the breakfast she relied on.

sometimes she skips meals so she can talk to you.

she didn’t even have to ask. just subtly hint that she forgot her lunch at home—and, oh, whatever will she do?

“you can have some of mine.” you smiled softly, pushing half of your sandwich into her hands.

“oh, i can’t take your food. it’s fine, i can go a day without lunch.” billie said, shaking her head. knowing that you would deny her not eating.

“what? no. half already fills me up you can take it.”

“if you insist.” she smiled.

it wasn’t her fault she followed oliver home. it was his fault, for flirting with what was hers. you.

she imagined stabbing oliver in the neck. hiding the body, and comforting you when you run to her, talking about how awful it is for someone to stab such a nice person.

until she actually killed him.

billie prepared her rubber gloves, the sharpened knife and various things. she thought of her plan. would she just knock on his door and stab him? no. that was too dangerous. someone might see her.

so she decided to sneak in his backyard. he lived alone, with 2 cats and 2 woman constantly coming in and out. great, he was even a cheater. see? he deserved it.

and he even screamed like a pussy. wearing his stupid shark boxers and still had his work button up on.

the next day the police came to see the crime. one of the girls he was cheating on knocked on his door to find his dick severed and his throat slit.

and guess who you came to cry to? her. you cried over someone you barely knew.

“i can’t—” hic. “i can’t believe someone s—” hic.

“shh.” she rubbed your back, while you were crying into her shoulder, you were wearing a light pink skirt on and a pretty top that left nothing for the imagination, “maybe i can come over? bake everyone cookies?”

“mhmm,” you sniffle, wiping your tears and snot on her shirt, “m’ sorry bout' your shirt.” you breathe.

“it’s okay, you can make it up to me. give me two cookies instead of one.” billie said, smiling, hiding her satisfaction.

“i’ll give you four.” you giggle. angel.

so she came over. she walked into your house invited. and she didn’t even stalk you to find out where you live—she was being good.

you opened the door with smallest fucking shorts she’s ever seen, and a tiny pink top, with no bra. which means that your nipples were leaving a small print on the fabric.

she’s in heaven. the whole house was lathered in your perfume and natural scent. and the walls were decorated with paintings and little trinkets. she knew your house wouldn’t be boring, like olivers. she sat on your couch and it was so soft.

she thought of fucking you on it. how your moans would ricochet off the pretty walls and how her cock would pump in your pretty pussy. how you would be too afraid to touch her back in case your accidentally scratched at it and hurt her. you could never hurt her.

how she would convince you to sit on her lap, naked, and whine and whimper, begging her to just fuck you already, like you couldn’t wait any longer.

she imagined convincing you to sit on her face. how you’d be too cautious, afraid to break her nose or neck. you would still do it though, sitting on her pretty face that was filled with a satisfied smile.

she would have her head almost falling off the edge of your bed, offering you to just get off her face if it was too much, it would first start off slow, you hover over her face not even siting. holding and gripping her hands, how she would leave small kisses on your thighs before extending her tongue and tasting you.

you would ‘mhph’ at that, left breathless and feeling your knees go weak, she would take her other hand and guide you to fully sit, she would feel the weight of you on her mouth. how she would shove her long pink tongue into you.

you would moan, still holding her hand and gripping her hair, bucking your hips. actually riding her. how your pouty lips let out the prettiest noises. how would let go of her hand and hold her head with both your hands and squeeze her head between your thighs.

she didn’t do any of that, obviously. just helped you with making your cookies.

you were putting in the chocolate chips now, and billie was holding your waist and watching. in reality, she didn’t do shit to help. only preparing the ingredients and keeping you company.

“now we bake them forr, i think 20 minutes.” you said, pushing the tray into the oven and bending, to reveal your striped panties. she was behind you, could feel your ass pushing against her pelvis.

“your really good at baking.” she complemented.

“thank you.” you blush, and smile.

she realized you were an angel ages ago. but when you offered for her to sleep over? oh.

she entered your room and saw the mess, the thrown dirty underwear and your “work” clothes throw in the corner of the room.

your face was flushed and you apologized for the mess. billie didn’t mind though, even helped you clean, she always treated you well, your mom would love her.

you thought about billie meeting your parents, they would think she was the best person you’ve brought them to meet, since all your other boyfriends only wanted you for your body. their personality was horrible too, they all treated your mom awfully.

but billie would never, she’d probably help your mom in the kitchen when she’s preparing the dinner. and your dad would talk about how he needed a helping hand in his mechanic company. noticing how well she was with her hands.

you imagined how the sweat would roll off her forehead—and now that’s dangerous territory, let’s not think of that.

you let billie sleep in your bed, since you didn’t want her to sleep on the floor with a pillow. that would hurt her back.

you didn’t even think of why her knee was between your thighs, she didn’t mean to push herself behind you and do that

you woke up with billie’s knee between your thighs, she adjusted her position and unconsciously moved her knee upward, causing it to hit your pussy, and you sniffled a moan, putting a hand over her knee and grinding subtly.

you were dirty. even moved your shorts and panties to the side to feel the rough fabric of her sweatpants on your bare pussy, feeling her knee hitting your clit at the perfect angle. almost like she was awake.

you slid your hand under the pillow and gripped, digging your head into the pillow and sniffling your whines.

you felt billie shuffle, and stiffen.

“good morning, angel.” she whispered in your ear, putting your shorts and panties back to their designated spot, not before brushing your clit with her middle finger, “were you busy there? sorry, your whining woke me up.”

you apologized a million times, couldn’t stop thinking of her deep, raspy morning voice in your ears. and her knee.

billie left soon after. she didn’t leave empty handed though, she left your house with a box of chocolate chip cookies and two pairs of your dirty underwear stuffed in her pockets. and a little lip gloss stain on her cheek.

[lovebugism]

hi bug! can I please request the dialogue prompt “Hold up, she said what?” with steve and shy!reader? maybe she is robin’s friend and robin tells steve something reader said (maybe that she thinks steve is cute or nice or something of the sort), and it leads to a cute conversation between the two?

ty for requesting angel!! — steve finds out the cute girl at the record store likes him and decides to bring her ice cream as a proclamation of love (shy!fem!reader, friends to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, 2.3k)

blurbcember ⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄

“Wait, wait, wait,” Steve interjects suddenly, a metal scoop in his hand and a wild look in his eye. “She said what?”

Robin fumbles with the metal tub of Peppermint-Chip ice cream she’s refilling. It clangs when she drops it into place with haphazard care. The shop goes unusually silent without her rambling to fill the dead air. Holly, Jolly Christmas crackles quietly from the broken speakers overhead.

The girl blinks at him with a wide ocean gaze. Her rogue-tinted mouth falls softly agape. She knows she’s said the wrong thing, but she can’t remember what.

“...Huh?”

“What’d you just say?”

Her doe eyes flit to the left for a moment. It takes her a second or more to recall the words she’d only just said. She does this thing sometimes where she rambles on and on about nothing, and Steve was the first person in the whole world to let her. So it’s way too easy for her to tell him a billion things at once and forget about all of them a second later.

“That the music store just got new cassettes in?” Robin answers, her gritty voice a few octaves higher than usual.

Steve nods slow and with a crooked grin that pulls at the corners of his mouth. He rests his elbow on the glass case above the ice cream and eggs her on. “After that?”

“…That you and the pretty new girl that works there have the same taste in music?”

“Before that.”

“That she said she wanted to show you the new tapes,” she says, wincing with the realization that she had, in fact, said the wrong thing. A secret she swore not to tell has just spilled from her lips without her even knowing it.

“And?” Steve lilts with a wider, rosier smile.

“Because she likes you…” Robin confesses (or rather, re-confesses) with her teeth gritted.

Even though Steve had heard her perfectly the first time, hearing it the second makes his heart skip a beat. The pulsing organ lurches into his throat. He almost forgets how to breathe.

“She likes me?” he repeats, mostly whispering, with an incredulous gape of shock. His bushy brows raise until his forehead wrinkles. His eyes go wide until the honey of them starts to glimmer.

Despite her best friend’s lovesick disposition, Robin’s freckled face hardens. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” she rumbles like a storm cloud, knocking her shoulder against his when she walks by him.

“Why?” Steve retorts like a child, following behind her just the same. 

He nearly bumps into her when she stops short at the deep freezer. She returns the cloth mits she carried the ice cream in with after spending her whole break organizing the case by color. Steve could never even be bothered to put the damn things back where they belonged in the first place.

“Because I swore to her I wouldn’t,” Robin agonizes, then whips around to face him again. Her features are twisted like a hurt puppy as she pleads. “Don’t tell her I said anything either, okay? She’ll hate me.”

Steve wasn’t planning on it. Not because he thought it might make you hate her, though. He’s not entirely sure you’re capable of that. 

He’s only known you for a few months — ever since the leaves started changing color and people traded their ice cream cones for cool music at the new record store. He spent half that time admiring you across the landing, but you’ve never been anything but gentle with him. You were soft, with a soul of sunshine. 

He didn’t know it was possible to be made of sunlight until he met you.

“Well, did you tell her I liked her back?” he presses, hoping Robin might’ve done some of the hard work for him.

Her face screws up like she’s tasted something sour. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I promised you I wouldn’t.”

Steve shoots her a deadpanned look.

Robin caves. 

“It’s not like I meant to tell you she liked you just now, okay? It just came out!” she explains, gesturing wildly with her hands. “Maybe next time I stick my foot in my mouth around the new girl, I’ll tell her that you’re obsessed with her, and the two of you can finally start dating instead of making sex eyes at each other all the time.”

He wouldn’t put that past her. Robin the Mastermind, Robin the Blabbermouth, Robin the Matchmaker. But his fluttering heart is pumping with too much adrenaline now. He feels like he could move mountains with the knowledge of your affections — knowing that all his own big, fuzzy, suffocating feelings have been reciprocated all this time.

If he doesn’t talk to you now, he’s scared he’ll never work up this kind of courage again.

“No. Screw that,” he concludes with a shake of his head. He’s in King Steve mode now — feeling half as suave as he used to back when the whole town was falling at his feet — chest puffed and ego reeling. “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

Robin watches, dumbfounded, as he dumps a scoop of their best-selling ice cream into a paper bowl. Another tub she’ll have to refill. Steve ducks under the counter door and heads for the exit. “Wait— what am I supposed to do?” the girl shouts across the empty store.

Now out in the bustling Starcourt mall and taking short strides towards the music store, Steve spins on his heel to face her. He shrugs and readjusts the sailor’s cap on his head. “Wait for me to get back.”

—————

You’ve been banished to the back of the store.

Not exactly. But that’s what it feels like.

You got a bit too overwhelmed working the front counter, and since Eddie’s crazy soft on you, he let you put up all the Christmas decorations he’d been putting off instead. It’s a win-win situation, really. 

You’re stringing up sparkling tinsel over the rows of records when a deep blue sailor’s uniform catches your eye. Looking over your shoulder, you find Steve in all his glorysauntering towards you. He’s wearing shorts even though it’s basically winter now in Indiana. He’s beaming at you like sunshine anyway.

Beneath the amber glow of the dimly lit store, he looks borderline angelic. Almost unfairly ethereal.

“What’s that?” you wonder with a smile you don’t even know is there, nodding to the Scoops Ahoy brandedcup in his hand. 

You can almost smell the syrup-cinnamon concoction of the ice cream he holds in his palm. Or maybe that’s just Steve, and the sugary sweetness is radiating from his pores after working in a confectionary shop during the holidays.

He looks at you even sweeter.

“New flavor,” he answers vaguely, smirking as he leans against the metal shelves. He stumbles slightly when it rocks beneath his weight. “Oops. Sorry. It’s, uh— It’s pancake chunks with maple syrup swirl. I call it Wake and Bake.” 

A giggle tumbles from your lips when he hands it to you. “Eddie’s gonna love that,” you murmur.

“Well, it’s actually called Breakfast in Bed, but— I don’t know— I thought my idea was better.”

“Way better,” you concur with a nod and a pretty smile.

Steve watches with attentive honey eyes as you spoon a bite into your mouth. He feels a bit like it’ll be his fault if you hate it. His irrational need to impress you always makes him feel hopelessly inadequate. 

“Woah,” you hum without your mouth still a little full. The cream melts softly on your tongue, tasting of a sweet and early morning. “This is really good.”

His brows raise, and his eyes widen. “Yeah?” he wonders. Your words wash over him like a compliment for a reason he can’t name. It feels good to make you feel good.

“Mhmm. I might have to come by after work and buy the rest of it, actually,” you joke with a curt shrug. It’s a feeble confession — your way of telling him that you want to see him more because you could never say the real thing out loud.

Your heart sinks when Steve shakes his head. Then swells when he smiles.

“No way,” he scoffs, lips curling into a lopsided grin. “I’m not gonna let you pay for it— that’s crazy.”

“You can’t keep giving me free ice cream, Steve—”

“What my manager doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” he lilts lowly and with a cool shrug that makes you melt. He goes very distinctly soft when he looks at you, all scruffy-faced and sweet-eyed. 

It’s suffocatingly beautiful. You crack under the pressure of it. 

“Well, uh— Thanks for the— ice cream,” you stammer and motion the bowl back to him. Thanks for stopping by and keeping me company, but you’re too pretty and I’m not sure how much longer I can take it, you don’t say.

“You don’t want the rest?” he asks with pinched brows.

“I just… should probably get back to work, you know?”

“Eddie doesn’t let you take breaks?”

“No, he does,” you answer quickly, shifting your weight on your feet. It becomes virtually impossible to meet his gaze. “Just not with…”

Steve’s brows raise when you trail off. “Not with me?” he finishes with a laugh.

“Well, not with the… pretty-boy-ice-cream-slinger in the sailor’s uniform,” you correct, then quickly follow. “His words. Not mine.”

In all honesty, Steve couldn’t care less about what Eddie Munson has to say about him. If Hawkins’s local freak is the only thing standing between him and the pretty girl at the music store, he’s down to break a couple of dumb rules.

He takes a small step towards you. His pink smirk widens. You swear your heart stops when he looks at you with it. “You don’t think I’m pretty?” he teases with a twinkle in his squinted eye.

Suddenly, there’s a frog in your throat and you’re fourteen all over again. You’re flustered and drowning and totally unsure of yourself. “I didn’t say that,” you mutter, gaze flittering and smile wavering.

Steve goes to rest his elbow on the shelf again, then remembers its unsteadiness and decides against it. His arm rests awkwardly in the air for half a moment before he crosses both of them over his chest. 

“Well, I mean, you didn’t not say it, so…”

You squint up at him, busying your clammy hands with the melting ice cream in your palm. You know what he’s fishing for. Your pride urges you to stay silent even though your heart sings the sweetest songs for him. 

“You know you’re pretty, Steve,” you murmur matter of factly.

“But do you think I’m pretty?”

Your thundering heart lurches into your throat when Steve takes another small step closer. He smells like wintertime — like Christmas and nostalgia and boy. You don’t trust your voice to answer him verbally, so you nod, slow and sheepish.

“Good,” he hums with a beam he couldn’t hide if he tried. “‘Cause I think you’re pretty, too.”

Your chest gets all sparkly at his admission — the affirmation that all your girlish feelings are being reciprocated by a boy you never dreamed you could have. You don’t feel hardly deserving of the fondness dripping from his features, but you pray he never stops looking at you with it.

You grow warm with the irrational hope that he might kiss you. You think he might actually kiss you until your boss’s voice pierces the golden bubble of puppy love the both of you are basking in.

“How’s the decorating going?” Eddie announces himself, appearing suddenly between the two aisles.

Robin idles at his side. She’s in the feminine version of Steve’s sailor outfit — with silver chains around her neck and bandaids on her knees. Effortlessly endearing and totally unaware of it all.

You push Steve away from you without thinking, all but shoving the softening ice cream into his chest. Some of it smears white against the scarlet tie around his chest. “Sorry!” you exclaim in your moment of fleeting panic, then turn to Eddie with the same apologetic wince. “Sorry…” you repeat quieter.

“Robin?” Steve gapes at the sight of his best friend — apparently the second thing standing in his way, right beside the freak. “What the hell are you doing here— did you tattle on me? What are you, four?”

“I got lonely,” the brunette answers plainly. “And I knew you were around here somewhere, so I asked Eddie where you were—” She waves a pale hand your way, fingers painted with chipping maroon polish.  “—And now I’m here.”

Eddie grins wide and tilts his wild head to his shoulder. “Yeah. Can’t believe you’re trying to taint my one good employee, Steven.”

“I’m not tainting anybody, Munson,” he bites back like a bickering brother, then screws up his face and turns to Robin. “Wait. If you’re here, who’s manning the counter?”

Her freckled face falls like a child caught in a fib. Her deep blue eyes widen when she blinks at him. In a mousier voice, she confesses, “Dustin came by… And I told him he could eat all the ice cream he wanted as long as he made sure no one stole anything.”

The four of you fall silent. The soft rock of Christmas Wrapping plays weakly from the radio at the front of the store. Eddie breaks first. ‘Cause he can’t ever be serious about anything. 

The boyish sound of his laughter sends a giggle sputtering from your lips. The pretty noise makes Steve smile despite his baffled disbelief.

He turns to you with a dumbfounded grin. “You’re still stopping by after work, right?”

“Yeah,” you answer softly, nodding as your smiling face grows hot.

Eddie scoffs when Steve walks by him. “If you still have a job by then.”

[sun-kissy]

Hi! Can I request James's sister with Sirius, but Sirius for some reason thinks she has a crush on Regulus? Thx I love your page! <3

thank you for the request angel! ♡

date | s.b.

tw: hurt/comfort, teensy bit of jegulus

potter!reader, sirius black x reader

“Potter. Do you think using unicorn’s blood instead would make our potion have a more iridescent colour? Because that’s what Slughorn wants,” Regulus asked dryly, shoving the book towards you and pointing at a paragraph which looked like nothing but muddled words.

You look at the book for a moment before sighing, letting your eyelids flutter closed and leaning back in your chair.

“No idea.”

Your hands come up to rub your eyes, exhaustion overwhelming your senses. Regulus and you had spent the whole day in the library like crazed scholars desperate for a good grade on an assignment.

That was exactly what you were. You had been paired with him for a Potions project, and ever since Professor Slughorn had made a breezy comment about your potion-in-progress, it had been driving the both of you mad. Although you weren’t exactly friends, there was a mutual agreement that doing well on this project was necessary to salvage both your grades.

The past few weeks were a blur - late nights wasted researching in the library and early mornings spent in the Potions classroom.

You groan and sit back up, willing yourself to hear him out and make sense of the lines in front of you. You blink and look up for a second when something, or rather someone, catches your attention. Sirius stands stiffly a few metres away, leaning on a bookshelf and looking over at the two of you.

When you meet his eyes, he quickly averts his gaze and pretends to be browsing the books on the shelf. You immediately sense that something is wrong - Sirius wouldn’t be caught dead in the library. You notice the hard look in his eyes, the subtle look of hurt in his features.

A frown instantly crosses your face. Your friend had been acting weird lately, ever since your lips accidentally crashed onto his at a party - and none of you pulled away.

It was a nice kind of weird, in which he fumbled over his words and his cheeks would get rosy when he talked to you. But ever since you had been swept up into the busyness of the project with Regulus, it was like whatever spark that was set ablaze had been doused out.

Sirius brushed you off every time you tried talking to him, yet you would catch him silently gazing at you in hallways and classes then immediately looking away as soon as eye contact was made. It made you mad, but more than that, it hurt your heart that the one person whom you thought would last forever was starting to drift apart from you.

Your annoyance started to get the better of you, slowly bubbling into anger in your chest. You take a deep breath and slowly stand up, your chair dragging across the floor. “Excuse me for a moment,” you mutter to Regulus, sidling your way around the table.

“Hey,” you make your way over to the bookshelf and stand in front of Sirius. He whips his head around, a false look of surprise on his face.

“Oh, hey Y/N! Didn’t think I would see you here. Anyway, I was just searching for a book for Moony - I should really make my way back now, James wants me to… plan some pranks with him,” he smiles, his lips pressed together. It’s obvious how forced it is.

You open your mouth to tell him your brother was in detention, his blatant lie adding fuel to the fire of irritation in you. But before you even say anything, he turns around to leave.

Anger flares up within you and before you can even think, you’re grabbing his wrist, your fingers wrapping around it with a vice-like grip. “Sirius!” you hiss, so unintentionally loud that Regulus looks up from his books, surprised. You look over at him apologetically.

Sirius turns back around, frowning. “What?” You flinch at the harsh tone, loosening your hold on his wrist but not letting go. You inhale sharply. “Talk to me,” you say, softening. “Please talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on. What do you mean?” he bites back sharply, more hurt than anger in his tone.

“Let me go.” He tries to pull away, but you tighten your grip. “No. Something’s wrong, and you’re not telling me. Why are you ignoring me? What did I do wrong?” you ask, desperation seeping into your voice.

Sirius glares at you for a moment, seeming to be contemplating something. Then he sighs, his anger melting away as he runs a hand down his face.

“Fuck, you-” he gestures with his hands. “You-“ he groans and drops his arms to his sides. “Why do you play with my feelings like this? I thought we had something! I really- really thought we had something,” he mutters, his voice cracking slightly.

You feel your heart break a little. “Sirius,” you coo, moving your hand down to gently hold his. “We do. We do have something. Why would you think we didn’t?”

Upon hearing your words, he turns to you and huffs out a humourless laugh, pulling his hand away. “Really? You really think so? Don’t lie to me. I’ve seen you with Regulus.”

Your blink, your face morphing into one of confusion as you stare dazedly at Sirius.

“Regulus? You think I like Regulus?”

He frowns at you. “Of course. Why else would you be spending so much time with him? It’s like you forgot I even existed.”

The absurdity of his words brings a small smile to your face, and before you know it, you’re pressing the back of your hand to your mouth to stifle your laughter. “Oh my god, no. No way. He’s the most annoying partner I’ve ever had to work with. Why would you think I like him?”

The crease between his eyebrows softens, and you catch a glimpse of relief in his eyes, though he still seems suspicious. “You don’t? Then why have you been spending so much time with him? Going on study dates or whatever? You’re never with me anymore.”

You huff out a sigh, realisation dawning upon you. “For the Potions project, of course. Professor Slughorn said our potion wasn’t up to the mark, so we’ve been working our asses off to fix it. I really need to do well in this to pull my average up. I don’t like your brother, Sirius.”

“Oh,” he breathes out, and you can practically see the tension leave his body. “Oh. Sorry,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

You chuckle lightly. “It’s okay. It’s kind of my fault, I still should have made time for you. But is this why you’ve been ignoring me? You thought I liked Regulus?” you ask bemusedly. He winces and nods sheepishly, earning a laugh from you. “Siri, have you seen the way James looks at him?”

His lips start to curve upwards, his usual playful demeanour coming back to him. “I caught him drooling while looking at Reg once.”

You giggle at that, clearly imagining your brother gazing at Regulus with heart-eyes. Sirius grins back at you, taking your hand.

“So, we’re good?” he asks, intertwining your fingers together.

“More than good.”

“Great. Because I was just about to ask you out to Hogsmeade this Saturday. If you haven’t already got plans with emo boy, of course.”

“Sirius!” you whisper scandalously, trying to sound mad, but a giggle slips out and betrays your amusement. He chuckles, looking over at Regulus who was bent over a stack of papers and furiously scribbling down notes. “You better get back over there if you wanna survive till our date this weekend.”

“Date?” you ask mischievously, raising your eyebrow. “James would approve of that?”

He rolls his eyes at your feigned innocence, one hand on your shoulder as he gently pushes you back towards your table. “I’m pretty sure your brother is too lovesick for my brother to protest against it. So yes, love, it’s a date.”

[onlyangel4]

healing a heart i didn't break. LH44. MV1. SMAU. final part.

cheater! lewis hamilton x reader. max verstappen x reader.

when your boyfriend of three years fumbles, his rival is there to put the pieces of your heart back together bit by bit.

warnings: 14 year age gap with lewis. cursing. cheating.

author's note: thank you for all the love on this series. this is the final part, i'm so glad you all enjoyed it. i will be taking requests for this couple in both smau and blurb/written forms if you want to see more of them or specfic moments between them. i am also going to need ideas for new fics with different pairings so please send me a request

part one // part two // part three // part four

f1wags

liked by user19, user23, f1fan32 and 138,928 others

f1wags: is it over between lewis hamilton and a pregnant y/exbff. papparazzi photos captured an explosive argument outside of y/exbff's los angeles home. lewis then left and got straight on a private jet ready for the qatar gp.

view all 4,568 comments

user19: finally, this couple has been completely awful

user23: y/n is thriving and these two are crumbling, we love to see it

f1fan32: war is over

y/exbff

written: yes me and lewis did break up. but we will continue to collaborate for this baby

verstappenupdates

liked by f1fan22, user8, user53 and 78,902 others

verstappenupdates: max at a very rare non f1 related public engagment. he was at the london premiere for the new film in the scream franchise. he arrived with y/n who he has become very close to after her break up with lewis hamilton. his jet is scheduled to take off in a few hours for qatar

view all 8,283 comments

user8: y/n has been quoted numerous times saying that the scream films are her favourite. max made sure to make time in his busy schedule so he could accompany her there. that is what my girl deserves.

user53: there are videos of y/n walking the carpet and max in the background just staring. honestly same.

f1fan22: is it toxic of me to think they are together

y/ninsta

liked by carmenmundt, maxverstappen,alexandrasaintmleux and 789,928 others

y/ninsta: it's a real scream baby

view all 11,928 comments

alexandrasaintmleux: ferrari red suits you

y/ninsta: shhh don't tell him that

user6: who tf is he y/n, alex tell us what you know

maxverstappen: you know what maybe i do like scary movies now

y/ninsta: see i told you that you would love it. thank you for coming with me

user15: on the day y/exbff confirms that she broke up with lewis y/n posts her going to see the new installment of her favourite franchise with her ex boyfriend's rival. we all know who won that break up

maxverstappen posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: the only person that will go to a donut shop in full glam after a premiere

f1updates

liked by f1fan, user43, user12 and 45,834 others

f1updates: the drivers arriving to the last race of the season. max verstappen will officially be world champion for the fourth time after this race

view all 782 comments

f1fan: the video of max walking through the paddock on facetime to y/n grabbing all the other drivers to say hi to her is the cutest thing

user12: the first last race of a season that y/n has missed in four years. what a sad day.

user43: max verstappen world dominance

f1

liked by maxverstappen, redbullracing, y/ninsta and 1,232,814 others

f1: max was going to be world champion no matter the outcome tonight. but he decided to show us all just how good he is by taking the win. what a worthy champion!

view all 20,348 comments

y/ninsta: i am at a modelling shoot and i am sobbing. they hate me.

user39: wishing you were there

redbullracing: that is our boy

user2: him facetiming y/n as soon as he got off that podium was so cute

user1: there better be a drive to survive episode on the y/n situation

y/ninsta posted two stories tagging maxverstappen

story one written: my entire team getting me ready so i can sit and watch max win the world championship

story two: drinking two drinks to celebrate two wins. world championship and p1. let's go baby.

f1wags

liked by user12, user52, user71 and 341,238 others

f1wags: is y/n back in her wag era? footage shows y/n at a private airport in paris running over to max and jumping into his arms. and we are pretty sure we saw a kiss as well. we love this couple and really hope that they are together

view all 18,721 comments

user12: lewis hamilton found throwing his phone in a river

user52: that footage is the cutest thing ever. i love them.

user71: oh they are so in love, they have to be together

y/ninsta

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, danielricciardo,landonorris and 1,231,110 others

y/ninsta: my boyfriend is the current world champion

view all 20,112 comments

maxverstappen: i couldn't have done it without your encouragment my love

y/ninsta: yeah those midnight facetime calls are the reason you won. not your skill. for sure.

danielricciardo: thank god, i had to stop lando from calling you max's girlfriend in public yesterday. he would have not lasted any longer.

landonorris: mate you said you weren't going to tell her

alexandrasaintmleux: the best double date partners

y/ninsta: so happy to not be third wheeling you and charles anymore

user6: the fact that she never got to say that when she was with lewis i'm so happy for our girl

maxverstappen

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris, georgerussell and 2,310,122 others

maxverstappen: my girlfriend is a vogue model

view all 27,810 comments

y/ninsta: so obsessed with you

maxverstappen: good because i'm so obsessed with you

alexandrasaintmleux: thank you for looking after my girl

maxverstappen: of course, i would do anything for her

user2: the matching captions. i am so single.

danielricciardo: i took the first three photos, y'all need to pay me

user5: daniel being their personal photographer is the cutest thing

taglist: @sinofwriting@toldyouitwasamelodrama@formulaal@minkyungseokie@shrbehndwn@gr1mes-cc@nichmeddar@liberty-barnes@kravitzwhore@annaluna12 @noooway555 @dark-night-sky-99@scenesofobx@karinalandazuritumblrcom@shelbyteller@sfx1nas@yukimaniac @demiguisemoon @sleutherclaw

[inesbaby21]

Caitlin clark and a feminine reader who's her gay awakening. She and the reader are like really good friends at first, and then it slowly turns into something more. Maybe she gets jealous when she sees you hang out with another player like paige or Kate.

"You've got it badddd"- Caitlin Clark

3rd person P.O.V

Don't get me wrong, you and Caitlin had always been close- even when you decided that staying in Iowa wasn't the choice for you. While you had no open regrets you missed the late night conversations with Cait, often talking about how you wanted your hair done next- or maybe which pair of jeans would go best with the new shoes you had ordered.

Being friends with someone who was so comfortable, and open with their femininity was something new to caitlin- almost scary. She was so used to the girls on her team not putting in effort to match the accent of their tees to their new shoes, or waking up an extra hour early to do their makeup because "it made them feel pretty" (you were always pretty to her, especially when you were focused on making a shot- oh and no doubt when you let out a snort from laughing too hard, ultimately causing you to laugh even harder from the embarrassment.)

So, why exactly did it take Caitlin until her junior year of COLLEGE- and subsequently the year you decided that maybe switching your Uconn to be closer to your older (adoptive) sister would be best for you to admit to herself that maybe (definitely) she likes you more than a friend? Why did it take her until the same pink luggage you had arrived with almost two years ago had been packed- and placed neatly in the white car with pink interior that she knew all too well for her to finally gain the courage to admit the feelings she had felt for you for years?

The same feelings that made her want to play a little too hard at the USA basketball tournament- even though she didn't know exactly who you were. That didn't matter though, you stood out like a sore thumb- a small red skirt, crisp white tee with words that read along the lines of "written by lana del something" adorn with red lettering- with makeup soft, and light giving you an almost angelic look.

Don't get even get me started on how unfocused she was that entire game- staring at the shot clock, and then you, and then the clock again. Fumbling the ball- and forgetting to use her pivot when she got a rebound. These little things caused to her ultimately get benched, finding her spot next to Paige as Hailey subbed her out for that quarter- she and Paige talked, about nothing too serious until Caitlin mentioned being distracted by not her nerves.. but by someone sitting in the stands with a ridiculously large ipad.

"No fucking way Caitlin" Paige said a little too loud for the girls liking as she shushed her out of fear of the coaches hearing.

"What? I'm just saying she's really pretty- and from the way she's been at all of the games this week I think she may be one of the girls sister or something" Caitlin said completely oblivious to the fact that the girl she had been almost studying for a week was Paige's younger sister- the same girl who she would spend the next 3 1/2 years yearning after too scared to make the first move.

"Caitlin" the Blonde said- dropping her voice an octave and sitting up straight. "That's my fucking sister you dimwit" she said lightly shoving the now pale girl sitting beside her as she laughed at the expression on the girls face.

"Oh my gosh- I.. I-I'm so sorry, I take all of that back" The brunette began to ramble scared by the sudden change of atmosphere. Not paying the panicking girl any attention Paige began to laugh as the entire situation was nothing short of hilarious to her- and honestly she started shed a few tears before her attention was called back to the game as she was subbed in.

This experience was one of many that occurred until you and Caitlin finally crossed paths in college. It was no secret that you had many offers from many different schools, and that ultimately when you committed to Iowa that there was bound to be a bit of sibling rivalry as both of you were very competitive. It was alsooo noted how much time you spent with the girls on the team with you- now don't get me wrong Caitlin couldn't exactly be jealous when you and Molly Davis began to hang out with one another outside of practice. But something in her snapped when you sad been elbowed in the face by an opponent while getting a rebound, and as she rushed to make sure you were okay the girl nudged her slightly backwards as she helped you up herself l- glaring at Caitlin on the court seemingly forgetting that there were cameras everywhere.

Fast forward to now. She had spent months upset with you- leaving you confused and ultimately hurt as you spent time attempting to figure out what exactly you did wrong. Was it the overwhelmingly positive attitude? The almost sickening pink bedroom decor (you had offered to tone your side of the room down too many times to count. ) Maybe it was the idea of you getting too close to molly, and then when you had sprung the news of you transferring to Uconn as a last resort to getting more playing time- and being able to showcase your talent like promised.

Whatever the reason was, it had Caitlin Clark avoiding you like the plague for months, ignoring the small talk you made when she was in your shared dorm- if she was even there. She began to spend the night with Kate as she had no roommate, and if she wasn't with Kate she was simply out all night.. and who were you to judge her- she was constantly put under stress to play her best, practice like it was a game, and most importantly to not let herself get too involved with anything relationship related.

That last reason alone was why she found herself with a ridiculously heavy, pink gift basket in hand as she marched towards the white car- just as nervous as the USA youth tournament that ultimately changed her life. She spent about a week writing the letter confessing her feelings- and with the help of Molly (ironic right ..) she picked out things that she knew you would not only like, but that help some form of value to you.

"Y/N/N" The girl yelled half heartedly- more sad about your departure, than nervous about giving you the note.

"Hey Caity" You said back with a bright smile- a smile that matched your bubbly voice. Caitlin would never understand why you couldn't hold grudges, even after icing you out for months- ignoring every attempt you gave to communicate, and borderline moving out you still had the heart to forgive her- and sometimes she wondered why it was so easy for you to forgive.

As you close the trunk of the SUV, you walked towards the nervous girl- taking the gift from her hands and giving her a tight hug around the neck, as her hands find their place along your waistline. The two of you stayed like that for a while until she pulled away to get a good look at your face. Caitlin could tell you really didn't want to leave Iowa, but your sister needing support as she was injured, and if you wanted any shot at potentially getting drafted you needed to have more playing time- more time to show how much you've grown as a player, more time to show who you were- to make a name for YOURSELF. These things combined together left you with no choice but to transfer, and why not transfer to a school where your sister already resided with her girlfriend? Why not transfer to a team full of love, and support with multiple great coaches?

Transferring was the best option for you, and Caitlin tried to understand that. Even if it meant potentially losing you, but deep down something inside of her told her that the distance would only bring the two of you closer- it would only feed the growing feeling from both parties, that it would only heal the wound that had opened as a consequence of pushing one another away. As you pulled away from the girl completely- you stared at the basket full of goodies.

"Oh Cait- You didn't have to get me anything"- You said tearing up, it was a thought out gift that obviously took some planning- and the price didn't matter to you as it was something that she had taken time to put together for you. "No, No I wanted to Y/N/N" she girl said with a bright smile "I wrote you a letter that I think you should really read"

As you carefully pull the letter out of its envelope, your eyes skim over the beautifully written piece of card stock- pink ink neatly written on the thick piece of paper as your begin to smile ear to ear. With no other words you drop the letter into the baby pink basket- leaning up and kissed the taller girl passionately, and as you pulled away breathless you began to mutter something along the lines of "Actually the shirt said written by Lana Del Rey" giggling as you began to think back to the day you set your eyes on the girl.

A/N-I'm sorry about being inactive everyone! i have band camp soooo i've been super busy and will be for the next few weeks! Also, im getting to my request/drafs bear with me 🙏🏾. ALSO please ignore my grammar issues, i didnt proof read it all the way- and im also playing around with the plot ngl. butttt i love you guys! and thank you for 120 followers! 💕❤️

tags; @cosmopretty

[cartierre]

ALLIGATOR BITES NEVER HEAL | d.starkey

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU drew starkey x fem!hamilton!sister (fc: doechii) odessa a'zion x fem!hamilton!sister (formerly)

notes: i've been so obsessed with doechii so badly lately (i mean look at her and her performances), she's awakened something within me and i fear the same has to be said about drew starkey i meeeaaaaannnnn notes pt2: disclaimer: this doesn't has a lot to do with formula one i'm sorry (but also not, this is my page i can do whatever i want)

♡ liked by 39,384 people

tagged: y/nhamilton, odessaazion

celebs_news Rapper Y/N Hamilton and actress Odessa A'Zion have reportedly called it quits after two years of dating. The couple broke it off officially this week after photos of Odessa with actor Drew Starkey roamed around twitter about a month ago. If she actually cheated on Y/N is unclear, the definite reasoning behind their break up remains unknown as well.

view all 2,394 comments

user1 oohh odessa fumbled the bag badly

user2 easy solution: they should just become a throuple

user3 an angel just lost its wings

user4 my absolute power couple broke up i can't is love even real?

user5 it's 7 in the morning, i'm on my way to work, my day is absolutely ruined

♡ liked by feliciathegoat, lewishamilton, sza and others

y/nhamilton "ALLIGATOR BITES NEVER HEAL" out now on all platforms!

spent a lot of blood, sweat and tears on this album. it's been such a personal journey the past few years and i'm happy to present what feels like my diary to you! wrote some songs a long time ago, some i added literal hours before the release since i've been through some stuff the past few weeks. it's messy, it's emotional but most of all, this album is all ME

view all 3,284 comments

user6 hang this album up in the louvre, it's a literal masterpiece

user7 can't believe i live in the same timeline as y/n hamilton

lewishamilton i'm so incredibly proud of you! the artistry you bring to the music scene is out of this world, i love you sis ⤷ y/nhamilton ily bro, wanna hit up the studio together soon?

user8 i don't think my ears have been this blessed in such a long time

user9 y/n carrying the rap industry on her back as always

sza the creativity, the realness, this is a MASTERPIECE ⤷ y/nhamilton stahp ily babes

user10 get this woman her grammy NOW

♡ liked by charles_leclerc, drewstarkey, lewishamilton and others

y/nhamilton what happenes in vegas stays in vegas or something along those lines

view all 3,492 comments

user11 MISS Y/N WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS GOING ON

user12 you can't just drop this on us

user13 y/n getting with the guy her ex girlfriend cheated on is so iconic yet questionable

user14 nobody is talking about the face cards they're both serving hello??!!

user15 dating rumours aside; nobody does fashion the way the hamilton siblings do

♡ liked by drewstarkey, lewishamilton and others

y/nhamilton My body do things for you that I've never seen her do I open my spleen for you And I can do shit that you wouldn't believe I'ma surrender my body to please you

comments have been disabled

[leighsartworks216]

Public Displays of Affection

Zayne x gn!Reader

I'm not personally a very physically affectionate person, but I love during the cafe interactions just that little moment when you touch him or initiate something and his eyes widen and he has to look away I just 🥺 my heart

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, established relationship, physical affection

Word Count: 596

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

"Zayne!"

Looking up from his phone, in the middle of typing a text, he's graced with the presence of the person he was texting. You're practically sprinting through the other travelers to get to him. Your smile makes him forget every exhausting surgery, slow lecture, and monotonous conference.

He slips his phone in his pocket. You come to a stop right in front of him. He thinks for a moment that you'll jump at him, into his arms, especially with how you seem to be bursting with gleeful energy at his return. But you don't.

You bounce impatiently on your feet. Your hands fumble about, unsure just what to do with themselves. And, most damning of all, your smile flickers, falters, for a brief second.

You've always been a very physically affectionate person, as opposed to Zayne, who struggles with physical intimacy. Where you will hold hands and hug and lean on those you're close to, he stays within his own space, always mindful of touching anyone else. Especially in public.

Over time, you've gotten better about keeping your physical affection to a minimum with him when in public spaces. He's comfortable holding your hand or letting you lean on his shoulder, but anything more than that is safely tabled away for the privacy of your home. Clearly, in the weeks he's been away, you've had to keep all of that love and affection bottled away. The pressure growing and growing, straining against the walls of its prison. It should come as no surprise, then, just how much effort it takes you to hold yourself back.

Zayne smiles softly and opens his arms to you. The discomfort of being seen in public is overshadowed by the way your face lights up. The expression of overwhelming joy as you close that distance to throw your arms around his neck. The giddy little sounds you let out as he wraps his own arms around your waist and buries his face in your neck.

"I missed you," you admit. As if he couldn't tell already. As if you hadn't texted him 2 hours after his flight touched down weeks ago how much you already missed him. As if you didn't remind him every single day.

"I missed you, too," he says, and he means it. He missed you when he woke up and got ready every morning. He missed you when he got ready for bed. He missed you when he lay awake a while longer, looking at your Moments posts or rereading your goodnight text.

You pull away, stepping back to give him his space once more.

He misses the intrusion.

He grabs the handle of his suitcase and wheels it behind him as he follows you out toward the exit. You ramble excitedly about needing to catch him up on what's been happening, about a new restaurant that opened up, about the silly thing the cat did this morning that 'I wish I'd recorded to show you!'

When his hand seeks yours in what can only be called a casual manner - not merely brushing or uncertainly reaching out - he can only smile bashfully at the surprise on your face. You try not to let it show, but he can hear the stutter in your words, see your eyes latch onto the connection, feel how you squeeze his hand. It warms him down to his very soul.

Tomorrow he might not be so brazen with his actions when he takes you to the restaurant you mentioned, but, for now, he quite enjoys this little public display of affection.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

there’s been lots of requests and comments so here it is PART 3!!! (SHE’S HERE first anon, hope you survived this long second anon and it was not a dream third anon, I’m posting/making it now fourth and fifth anon)

some of you were going feral for part 2 so I hope this lives up the expectation 😭😭 if not I’m severely sorry

title: the dancer and the angel part 3

pairing: grayson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: grayson has just admitted to kissing lyra kane, the girl you’d been worried about, the girl that was stunning, the girl he said didn’t matter… he chose her over you so now what??

parts: part 1 part 2 part 4 part 5

warnings: swearing, SPOILERS FOR TGG

a/n: okay so I hate switching POVs but I felt it was necessary here and I know the start is the same as the part 2 but in Gray’s POV but trust me there is lot more

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @sweetlikeanangel @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31

GRAYSON’S POV

Guilt has chewed me up and spat me out the whole walk back to our shared room. There’s a pulsating lump in my throat that aches relentlessly, reminding me of what I’ve done. I am a terrible person. I never deserved her and now I’ve done the worst thing I could’ve possibly done, that anyone on this whole planet could’ve ever done. And she will never forgive me for it. I wish there was a way to turn back time and alter certain events. As soon as the time machine is invented, no doubt by my very own brother Xander, I’m coming back to moments before now to stop my idiot brain from-

I can’t even think it. Maybe it’s because it makes it more real. It’s like the last few moments of my life have been erased from my brain, it’s a blank canvas and I have no paints. I know what I did but I can’t remember exact details. Still, I can taste her on my lips, an over sweet taste that was almost too sickly has now morphed into something bitter. Her perfume lingers on my clothes and adds to my ever growing headache. I don’t want to smell her, I don’t want the reminder of the awful human I have become. The monster that now inhabits my body, lives in my skin, breathes my air and poisons the people I love. The ones I truly love.

Y/n. At one point she was the only reason I was still existing, still carrying on. She somehow managed to give me the fight to keep carrying on. I got up most days because I knew I would get to see her face. And now I’m going to throw everything away, our whole relationship. Everything we’ve been through or planned to go through together. It will reduced to nothing in a few minutes.

I’m outside the door, my feet have carried me here through muscle memory. I must go in, I must face her I’m aware but I’m afraid. I’ve never felt so pathetic. I wonder if she is still asleep. Though, I can’t work out whether I’d rather she be awake or asleep. I don’t think I could bear to look at her angelic feature either way. Those wide eyes, round lips, heavenly- I can’t bear it, I’m going to lose her, all of her.

I fiddle around with the key, hoping the door will just never unlock so I don’t have to face this. The mechanism clicks, mocking me. I step in silently and face the door to lock back up again. I don’t understand why, I know I’ll be kicked out in a matter of seconds, what good will a locked door be? And yet I’m still facing the door, fumbling with the key, my back towards her. Though I can hear her getting out of bed. She’s awake. My body’s immediate response is to go into a state of paralysis. I can’t move as the guilt ridden cement hardens over my body, creating an outer shell of the cruel creature I’ve become. Her body is behind mine. I can feel her bright presence radiating her usual tentative nature.

“Are you okay?” I hear her whisper as she touches my arm so gently it stings.

It stings so sharply because I know what I’ve done. The shameful crime I’ve committed. I jerk away suddenly.

“Are you hurt?” she asks, deep concern in her tone.

It kills me. It’s a poisoned dagger wedged deep within my heart, hitting every vital artery. Her voice is so soft, so melodic. She cares so much, too much and I’m about to destroy it all. And as much as I could not say a word I couldn’t live a lie, the guilt would eat me alive. How could I look her in the eye and tell her she’d always been the only one when I know she hadn’t? She’d already noticed earlier today my distant mood. She had always been observant, vigilant about those things concerning me and I’d always been grateful. I wouldn’t have that anymore. Lyra had been on my mind earlier and I couldn’t tell her. Now she would realise.

“No,” I reply.

My voice is unfamiliar to myself, it’s sharp and blunt. It sounds horribly harsh. I could feel it hurt her, the air ripples with a touch of dimness when I hurt her. Even with my back to her it’s obvious to me. I know her so well, too well and from this day on we might drift to perfect strangers. That thought hurts me more than anything.

“Where have you been?” she says. Her voice so sweet, so innocent, cruelly naïve.

I don’t want to break her, I don’t want to do it. It would be like smashing a glass ballerina. Something so beautiful, something so delicate should be preserved not purposely broken. I force my eyes to meet hers. I immediately regret it. The soft mellow colour all melts into one, clawing at my heartstrings and ripping the organ to shreds. She’s so beautiful. How had I ever looked at any other? How had I let myself?

Suddenly I’m drowning in guilt. I don’t know how, it just comes over me suddenly. Like a tidal wave I had my back to. I’ve been swept under by an endless ocean of shame. My lungs swollen full of my own black sin. I don’t know how but I manage to choke out two shaky words.

“I’m sorry.”

My voice cracks. My voice never cracks. She knows that. I’m sturdy, I’m strong, I’m the rock that never breaks and here I am. Here I am crumbling into dust. She’s too smart to miss the signs, she’s too clever not to immediately know something so horribly wrong, her mind is too sharp not to have worked half of it out. She’d already been suspicious of Lyra. She’d already seen what might happen between us even before I did, before it did actually happen.

“Gray?” she asks, my name sounding too sweet on her tongue. The next time she says it will taste bitter, I’m sure of it. She barely whispers the word but I hear her, it rings in my mind. It forever will.

I’m full of pure regret and guilt, it wracks my soul, shaking me relentlessly back and forth until I’m dizzy with it. Remorse’s doors suddenly burst wide open, ready for my grand entrance. My hopes and dreams snicker and smirk smugly as I walk down the runway, my head hanging in embarrassment.

I need to tell her. My heart races in my chest and there’s a lump stuck in my throat, so large it’s started to block my airways. I don’t know how to get the words out, I don’t know how to talk. I feel like I’m suffering some sort of aneurysm. She looks at me, her eyebrows pinched in and eyes narrowed and then I see it. Her eyebrows part and slowly sink. She knows already.

“Tell me,” she murmurs, her voice of an angel shaking.

I close my eyes, trying to suppress the tears. I haven’t cried in years I’ve forgotten this feeling, this heavy weighted agony that ripples through me causing water to infiltrate my eyes. I bite the inside of my cheek and still my shaking hands.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, an uninvited raw desperation ripping through my voice, “I never wanted to hurt you, I never meant for it to happen, I-“

“Tell me,” she grits through her teeth sharply, her eyes glitter so beautifully fierce and fiery, like she wants to kill.

But I know she’s trying to steady her rising sadness by covering up with her fury. I can see through her, like she can see through me. I freeze and the pause elongates. The aching silence is deadly, it’s fatal. I wish she didn’t have to make me say it.

“I kissed her,” I murmur, the words making me feel sick as I say them.

“Who?” she asks, he tone low and ferocious, “who did you kiss? I want to hear you say it.”

I’m twisting a knife into her heart and I know it. But she wants me to cut deeper. She’s a woman of principle, I’ve already hurt her, I might as well do the job properly in her eyes. And I can’t deny her this. Not I’ve stripped her of her dignity, her trust, her love, her everything.

“I kissed Lyra,” I whisper, suddenly aware of the dampness on my cheeks.

A sour taste fills my mouth. The words send lightning sparks across my jaw, sending ribbons of agony down the sides of my face. The truth hurts. Literally. Tears are rolling the side of my face, but I don’t bring my hand to wipe them and nor do I stop them. I’ve never felt more broken.

But she doesn’t care, there is not pity in her eyes. Good. I don’t want he to pity me. She should hate me. She should want me to miserable and hope for me to have a lifetime of the torture I’ve just forced her to endure.

“Get out,” she murmurs, the anger bringing out her natural stunning features. A flicker of boldness in her eyes, the striking angles of her eyebrows, her strong thick lashes and her full lips.

“I’m sorry.” they’re the only words I remember how to say, through my internal fit of torment.

I expect her to hit me around the face, a good strong punch I know she can make or a sharp smack that’ll leave a red hand mark pressed against my cheek. I imagine she might scream at me and ask me all the questions I wish I had answers to. But she does none of that. She only looks at me darkly and utters two last words.

“Leave Grayson.”

I can hear the tears she’s trying to hold back, through the numb façade. I know her better than she’ll ever realise. But it’s not fair for me to stay, not after this. She’s only asking one thing of me when she should be doing so much more. So I do. I turn my back on her again. And I leave.

***

Tears pummel down my cheeks like never before. I can’t remember the last time I cried. I don’t think I’ve ever cried like this. I’m blinded by them as I stumble sideways. I don’t know where I’m going. I stand on the edge of the cliff and sink to my knees, letting out a loud guttural scream. I’m there until my throat is so raw I can’t feel it. I bite my lip so hard it draws blood. And then I’m up again and running, following a path my footsteps are dragging me towards. I can’t think straight, I’m dizzy with pain. Before I know it I’m outside the safe house on the island. My hands tremor on the handle and I swing open the door, falling to the floor for my sobs to take me over. My chest aches and burns and tightens. That’s when I realise I can’t breathe properly. I fumble around for my phone, a tear splashing into the illuminated screen. With uncontrollably shaking hands, I typed no words. Just three numbers.

911

***

The wait feels like years, maybe even decades. Each second taunts me, with a mocking tick. I’d crumbled into the corner of the room at some point and stayed there, curled up and choking on my own sorry sobs. What had I done? What had I done? What had I done?

The question circles around my head like the nostalgia of a distorted tune of a merry go round. I’ve never made such a big mistake and my life and deep down there’s a sinking sensation that is telling me I’m not going to be able to make this better. I sob, loud harsh sobs that hurt my lungs and knock the air out of my stomach. My whole being shakes with every strangled noise that escapes my lips. Grieving. I’m grieving over something I chose to throw away. It’s cruelly ironic. But I think part of me is also grieving the good man I once thought myself to be, that she made me believe I could be.

I turned my back on the one and only person in this world who just cared about me, took me for who I am and believed I could do anything. She only wanted the best, she only wanted happiness and she deserved so much more and here I am, stabbing her in the back and dancing in her blood like a madman. She was my everything and I managed to mess it up, just like everything else in my life. I can’t have normal relationships, I can’t do something without messing it up. I’m one big screw up the opposite of how the old man raised me to be. He’s looking down on me now and I can feel his disappointment, like an infection coursing through my bloodstream. I failed him, I failed my brothers, I’ve failed her, I’ve failed myself.

She thought I was better, she believed I could be more than his expectation. And I was stupid enough to believe it, encourage it and let her belive the lie too. We’re all idiots.

I can recite her favourite song, her favourite flower, her favourite food and favourite colour. I can tell you all about her favourite novels and how she orders her books on an endless bookshelf. I know that she tells people her favourite film is ‘it’s a wonderful life’ but it’s actually secretly ‘tangled’. I know she prefers to stay inside and cuddle under blankets rather than have a night out. I know she’d rather reason a thousand books than watch a thousand movies. I know she wanted a library in her dream house and two, maybe three children with her husband and I know she’d sometimes debate about getting a cat as well. I know how she loves brownie batter more than the actual brownies and can’t sleep with any lights on. I know she still uses the bunny rhyme to tie her shoelaces and how she fiddles with her collarbone when she’s nervous. I know exactly what diamond she wanted in her engagement ring and her favourite country. I know what people she despises and I know what people she adores. I know every inch of her face, every hair on her head, every sparkle in her eyes and every cell on her skin.

I know her.

I know her, but that can’t help me now. Pain ripples across the left side of my chest and my hand clamps over it as I grit my teeth to try and bear it. I hear the door creek open and can’t tell whether it comforts me or not.

“Grayson pookie!” Xander calls out, “we’re here.”

His cheerful voice doesn’t provide me with the cushion to this pain I thought it might.

“And we have some in incredibly strong whisky,” Jameson adds, I can here the mischievous grin in his voice, it’s been the same all of his life.

“My nose hairs are officially burnt off,” Xander agrees.

I can’t speak. I try to call out for them but the words die in my swollen throat.

“Where are you Gray?” Nash calls out, he sounds a little more worried than the other two but is concealing it well.

“Here,” my voice is hoarse and laboured, even I can’t recognise it.

The mood immediately shifts, you can feel it. The air becomes tainted with concern as their footsteps approach my cowering figure. The case of whiskey is dropped as there is an audible thunk as it hits the floor. I can feel their bodies enveloping around mine creating something of a circle of safety. I look up to worried face and shiny eyes.

“Help me,” I gasp for air, greedily trying to gulp down the oxygen that I feel so deprived of, “please.”

“We’re here to help you Gray,” Nash murmurs softly. His voice had always been something comforting, especially when I was younger. I wonder if he will be so kind when I tell him what I’ve done. He’s going to hate me, there’s nothing he despises more than a man who can’t respect a woman.

I shake my head and choke out another struggling sob, instead of the words I don’t know how to say. Jameson’s eyes flit between mine and Nash’s, the concern rippling across his features. He’s never looked this concerned for me in his life. I think to all the times as children I’d helped him settle after a nightmare and wiped his tears that he hated falling when the old man had humiliated him. Oh how the tables had turned. Now it was my little brother wiping my tears.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his touch so gentle it shocks me.

“I can’t-“ I barely get out, wrapping my hands around my neck.

“Gray…” he trails off, unmasked emotion hitting his face like a train.

“I can’t breathe,” I wheeze as the invisible blanket that was set out to suffocate me tightens over my nose and mouth.

“Hey, Gray, look at me,” Nash says, his voice smooth and reassuring, “in and out okay, in and out.”

“I can’t,” I pant, my limbs shaking embarrassingly uncontrollably.

Xander takes both of my hands into his and squeezes them until they still, “yes you can, follow Nash’s instructions okay?”

“Slowly, do it with me,” Nash nods, “in through your nose and out through your mouth.”

I do. In and out, a rhythmic pattern. Each time Nash reminds me how to breathe. There’s an aura of calmness about his voice that lulls my panic into a narcoleptic sleep. Once my breathing is halfway regulated I look at him, dead in the eye, with shaking sorrowful lips.

“I fucked up,” I sob, “I fucked up and I don’t know what to do.”

They all share a look, this is the worst state they’ve seen me and we all know it. I begin to pathetically sob uncontrollably once again, the feelings building up in my chest and tearing me apart from the inside out. It’s like a rabid pack of wolves had been set loose to feed on my internal organs. I don’t know how to stop the ocean of tears, I don’t know how to shut my mind off, I don’t know how to help myself. Reel myself in from this abominable mess I’ve become. I’m hyperventilating, my chest throbbing up and down unevenly. Nash nods towards Jameson, a short, soft, sharp nod of approval.

“Hey! Calm down!” Jameson snaps, giving me a hard slap around the face, “snap out of this!”

The shock shuts me up and the sting stops my tears. I’m back to reality instead of a wallowing mess. Nash must’ve been approving the slap I realise in the sudden cleared head I’d obtained

“Sorry,” Jameson mumbles at me, looking a little guilty.

I massage my jaw, “no I think I needed that.”

He grimaces and then softens his tone, “what happened Gray?”

I tense, growing very still, “I can’t say it out loud, I can’t, I’m awful, I’m horrible-“

“What happened?” Nash drawls.

I choke out yet another unnatural sound. Seems the slap didn’t snap me hard enough into reality. I exhale slowly. I have to say it, now or never.

“I kissed Lyra.”

The words hurt even more this time, that they did when I’d admitted it to y/n. Neither one of my brothers can mask their honest reaction.

“Oh fuck,” Jameson blurts out, “you cheated?”

Anger. He’s fuming with me. I can see the rage trailing through his eyes and blossoming into his expression.

“I didn’t mean to,” I reply, feeling like a small child.

Jameson’s eyes widen and fury flashes across his face, “how can you not mean-“

Nash shoots him a look and his mouth glues shut. Then he turns to me and I can’t quite read him yet. I gulp.

“No one does that kind of thing for no reason,” he says sternly, “I never thought you’d be the one of the four of us to ever do that, seems I was mistaken little brother.”

Disappointment. He’s disappointed. A horrible sinking feeling settles in my stomach. Nash is disappointed in me. It’s one of the worst feelings imaginable. There had only been few times in my life when he had been and I remember the feeling all too well. Shame has me in a chokehold an it’s succeeding in strangling me. I can‘t bring myself to meet his eyes, I don’t want to see that look I can feel is on his face, that look of pure disapproval.

“How did she find out?” Xander asks quietly.

Shock. He hadn’t said anything until now, but his lips had been slightly parted and he’d paled a little. He never thought I’d do this to anyone, he’s yet another person I’ve let down.

“I told her,” I murmur, “the guilt was consuming me.”

“As it should,” Jameson snaps, twitching with a fiery ferocity.

“Jamie,” Nash says, trying to keep some kind of diplomacy.

“No,” he growls, “you don’t do that to a girl, your girl, you can’t do that!”

“Don’t take the moral highground now,” I spit.

“When you’ve cheated on your girlfirend? Yeah I think I will,” he replies, the bitterness rolling off of his tongue like a deadly poison. He doesn’t know I’ve already poisoned myself with my own actions, his words can’t hurt me.

“I didn’t mean to,” I falter.

“Bullshit,” he grits through his teeth, in two definitive and threatening symbols.

“Careful Jamie,” Nash warns.

“All this is your fault anyway,” I continue, ignoring the warning.

“So it’s my fault, you kissed another girl, yeah, okay Gray,” he nods his head with a sarcastic smile.

“It is!” I exclaim, throwing my hands in the air, “if you hadn’t locked me in a room with her-“

“So it’s my fault you couldn’t keep up dick under control,” he quips, interrupting me.

“You could’ve locked me with my one of my sisters but of course you just had choose the only girl who isn’t related to me,” I seethe.

“Odette isnt related to you,” Xander pipes up. I’d forgotten he was there, that anyone besides me and Jameson were there.

“Odette is old enough to be my grandmother,” I scowl at him, immediately feeling bad as the words leave my lips, but don’t dwell on it as I turn back to Jameson, “why did you make me a player in your sick excuse of a game?”

“You can’t use the game as an excuse,” he laughs darkly.

“I will,” I reply sharply, “this is your fault and Avery’s fault too.”

“Avery? Don’t make me laugh,” he rolls his eyes.

“The game never should’ve been created by her,” I yell, “that’s why I’m in this mess!”

“No, you’re in this mess because of you,” he shouts back, “but don’t you dare bring Avery in to this it’s not her fault.”

I feel like I’m one of those circus acts, the ones that lay on a spinning board and get knives hurled at them. Only in my case the knives are the truth and they actually hit me.

“Why did you make me a player?” I ask quieter now, my voice hoarse, “why?”

“I didn’t know making you a player would result in this,” he says.

“It was so irreverent,” I snap becoming angrier by the second, a sudden burst of red overriding any rational sense in my head, “I never needed to play.”

“You can’t pin this on me Gray, if it didn’t happen with Lyra, who knows who else it would’ve happened with,” he hisses.

“So you think I’m just like this? You think this is me?” I ask him, prodding the hollow space where my heart used to be.

“I didn’t before….” he trails off, sighing, “but now I don’t know what the fucking think of you.”

“Jamie,” Nash repeats again, in the same warning tone as before. We both ignore him.

“Just because you and Avery are all peaches and roses-“

“Leave Avery out of your anger issues,” he roars defensively.

“No,” I counter, raising an eyebrow, mirroring his usual argument demeanour, “you think you’re so perfect now you’ve got your dream girl and the two of you are so much better off than the rest of us, because your love is undeniable or whatever bullshit people feed you about it-“

Jameson’s features twitch for a split second. He’s hurt, but won’t show it. He’ll refuse but I know that it hit a nerve that won’t heal for a long time. I stop mid-sentence.

“I am far from perfect, I think we both know that,” he says, in a low voice, “look you’re hurting, I get it, but I’m not going to mollycoddle you and tell you it’s okay when it’s not. I’m not going to stand here and lie to your face because as your brother that would be the worst possible thing for me to do to you.”

“My brother would try and understand what it’s like from my side,” I say, desperation clawing at my voice.

“You’re looking for a fight Grayson and it’s not going to end well, not with me,” he warns, shaking his head.

“Maybe I do want a fight, but you know you do too,” I growl rolling up my sleeves, “so fine, I’ll give you a fight Jamie.”

“I don’t want a fight, I want some justice for y/n,” he states simply, “she did nothing to deserve that Gray, she’s been so good to you, the sweetest soul on this earth and she’s helped you through a lot of shit and this is how you’re repaying her?”

“Jameson,” Nash says.

He ignores him for the third time and I can see his calm facade beginning to drop, “you think because you called a 911 and you’re here crying that I should feel sorry for you?”

“I thought you were going to be here for me,” I reply numbly, my tone dead, “clearly I’m mistaken.”

“I can’t be there for someone with no morals,” he replies, “you cheated and you’re the one who’s upset about it, how do you think she feels?”

“You think I don’t know her?” I fire back, my throat burning, “you think I don’t know exactly what she’s doing right now? I hate myself, I hate myself for doing what I did!”

“Good you should!” he screams back.

Before I know it I feel myself charges towards him, ready to throw a good punch but Nash and Xander launch onto me to quickly and managing to hold me back. Nash’s grip is so tight I don’t dare try and budge.

“Out. Now.” Nash says sharply to Jameson, “go and cool off.”

His tone sends a shiver down my spine that I won’t admit to. Jameson opens his mouth to argue.

“Jameson.”

He skulks away, with a sullen face. We all wait frozen until the door has been slammed shut. Nash lets my arm go, dropping it harshly and Xander follows suit.

“And you’re no better,” he turns to me, placing his cowboy hat on a nearby surface, “I’m only sending him away because you can’t be left alone in this mess and so the two of you don’t rip each other to pieces.”

Silence stills the room. His voice echoes but makes no sound all at the same time.

“Take a second, take a breath and we’re going to talk this through like adults,” he says, “if you want to carry on being a child then leave. Calm down, you’re not a toddler having a tantrum, you’re a grown man, act like it.”

Nash has a way of snapping me back to reality. I nod shakily.

“Talk.”

I begin, “I don’t even know why I kissed her, I didn’t mean to it just-“

“Happened?” he guesses, “no little brother, that doesn’t just happen.”

“The I don’t know Nash,” I say, tipping my head back and resting it on the wall behind me.

I hadn’t meant for it to happen. I didn’t want it to happen. It just did. She was there, just stood there. Her hands looped naturally around the back of my neck, warm and gentle, “someone sent me that ticket Grayson. I thought it was Avery but if it wasn’t…”

She trails off, her voice small and tentative. Her golden eyes filled with the utmost worry. I wanted her to know she’d be okay, that she’d have someone to keep her safe. Her arms get more comfortable around my neck. She’d felt it too, the electrifying spark between us. It was exhilarating but something about it was off, synthetic.

“Then who the hell was it?” I questioned, my hands magnetised to her cheek all of a sudden.

Lyra didn’t pull away and neither did I. I lower my head and she raised onto her toes and titled hers back a little. She was graceful, like a dancer. My lips brushed over hers. They were sweet like honey. For the first few moments it was bliss and the realisation hit, like a stone to my stomach. I jerked backwards suddenly, shaking my head.

“I can’t do this,” I said, my fingers trying to wipe her taste off of my lips, “I don’t- this isn’t-“

I was tongue-tied, not able to explain to her how wrong it was. The words wouldn’t work the way I wanted them to.

“Gray?” Lyra murmurs, a tender voice. Her amber eyes are widened and slightly confused.

“No,” I yell. She flinches and another wave of horribly strong emotion rushes over me, drowning me. “No I’m in love with someone else. I don’t know what that was. I can’t-“

I stumbled backward a few steps and the turned around and ran. Like the coward that I am.

“It did just happen,” I murmur, lifting my head from the wall to look my older brother in eye, “I swear to god, I didn’t intend for it to happen, I didn’t even know I had feelings for her.”

I can see he disagrees still and isn’t convinced. I don’t know how to prove it to him.

“Let’s establish one thing here, who do you like?” Xander asks me.

“I like Lyra,” I say slowly, “but I love y/n.”

Nash shakes his head, “if you loved her you wouldn’t have done that.”

“I made a mistake,” I press on.

“And you will pay for it and regret it for the rest of your life,” he shrugs, “it’s not what you wanted to hear but it’s the truth. Listen, I love Libby and loving someone means so many things. One of those things is that I don’t even look at other women, to me they don’t even really exist. Libby is my world and no one else even comes into the equation, so the fact is someone else came into the equation for you, meaning the love wasn’t there.”

“But it was, I felt it,” I say, my voice breaking as I press my chest.

“What do you feel for Lyra?” he asks plainly.

“I don’t know, she’s intriguing and smart and beautiful,” I murmur, “and I like her, but I don’t know if I have romantic feelings for her.”

“Then why did you kiss her?”

“Comfort? Lust? Greed? Selfishness? I don’t know it just happened,” I repeat for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Stop using that phrase as a get out clause,” Nash shakes his head, “you have to admit to yourself more than anyone that this didn’t just happen.”

“I leaned in and I put my lips of hers, and I didn’t stop it, it didn’t feel wrong straight away,” I admit out loud finally.

“It didn’t?” Xander says, looking wounded.

“No, it didn’t feel wrong until I realised what I’d done,” I say, looking down, suddenly finding my shoelaces to be the most interesting thing in the world.

No one replies for a long while. That’s when I realise how exhausted I truly am and how much I crave sleep.

“I vouched for you,” Xander says quietly, “I told her that you’d never do that, that you weren’t that guy.”

“I’m not,” I say, in denial at first. I take a moment to analyse his sentence and then come to a sickening realisation, “oh my god I am…”

“She was already anxious about where your loyalties were Gray,” he winces.

“I proved her right, I proved every worry she had right, I just proved to her that she shouldn’t have trusted me,” I spiral, hating that I hadn’t seen it sooner.

Xander looks to Nash for support for a reply.

“Yeah,” Nash sighs, “you did.”

“I need to fix this, there has to be a way-“

“Grayson,” the acuteness of his voice cuts through my sentence like a machete.

I freeze and clamp my mouth firmly shut.

“This isn’t a broken vase, you can’t glue it back together or buy a new one,” he tells me softly.

He was referring to a time where Jameson and I had been seven and eights years old. We’d been brawling of course, Hawthorne style and accidentally smashed a vase. Usually it wouldn’t matter, there were vases all over Hawthorne House and they were smashed frequently. But this wasn’t just any vase. It was nan’s priceless vase that had belonged to her daughter, our grandmother, Alice. We were never allowed within a five mile radius of it, but like the rebellious children we were, we didn’t listen. Through our fight we’d smashed the whole thing, it was truly destroyed. The two of us stayed up for nights on need gluing together the pieces only to realise it was never going to look like the original again. So we’d hunted to buy another, problem was, this vase was one of a kind. It turned out after four weeks or trying to ship a similar one in that nan had known the whole time. She didn’t speak to either of us for a good few months.

“This is real life, she is a real person and you hurt her,” he explains, “fixing this isn’t an option. There isn’t a way to fix it, there are no pieces to our back together, okay?”

I’m silent but it’s the loudest voice in the room. My face pinches together in agony. For the first time, a little of the disappointment fades and my brother’s face softens. He wraps a strong arm around me and I flop into him like a lifeless bag of nothingness. I bury my head into his shoulder and try to cry but there seems to be no tears left. He understands and holds me for a moment. Suddenly I’m six years old again and crying in Nash’s in my arms over Jameson hiding my favourite teddy bear at the time, then I’m eleven in his arms with pneumonia after being stupid enough to get caught in the rapids un the dead of winter wanting a good photograph of a rare fish, then I’m seventeen, crying over a redheaded girl who I thought I’d managed to murder. And now here I am, at twenty-two years old in his grasp once again, having made the greatest mistake of my life.

Suddenly I feel another set of arms wrap around the both of us.

“Group hug!” a familiar voice sings.

Leave it to Xander to make me crack a half smile in the darkest moments I’ve ever experienced. After a while I pull away and sigh.

“Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?” I ask, pulling away.

“Honestly?” Xander asks.

I nod

“No,” he says. I wish I could see that little glimmer of a lie in his eyes, but I can’t. And it kills me.

“Think about it like this,” he sighs, “would you forgive Eve for what she did?”

“This is not the same thing,” I reply coldly.

“Eve cheated your trust, she betrayed you,” he explains gently, “that’s exactly how she feels.”

Dread fills my every pore as I murmur lifelessly, “I’m as bad as Eve.”

“No wait,” he says, looking guilty and panicked all at the same time, “that’s not what I meant!”

“I know,” I reassure him so some of his guilt subsides, “but it’s true and now I’ve just realised.”

“Look Gray, you aren’t Eve. You’re never going to be Eve, but think of how you felt then. That’s how y/n feels,” Nash soothes, “she’s not going to just forgive you, that’s not how it works.”

“You just broke her heart Gray,” Xander adds, careful to keep his tone as light as a feather, “for a girl you just met.”

“Why am I horrible person? Why do I always find a way to mess to something good?” I groan, smacking my head on the wall behind me. There’s an audible thump as pain spreads through the back of my skull. I wonder if I can concuss myself to forget all of this, but I don’t attempt the idea.

“You don’t-“

“No I do,” I say firmly, cutting him off, “I’m not meant for love, to love or to be loved, I’m not built for it. I’m not a good enough person for it. I’m never going to find my Libby or my Max or my Avery.“

“Grayson-“ Nash begins.

“Emily knew it and now so does y/n,” I snap.

My brothers still at her name, not moving a muscle. I never bring up Emily.

“Listen to me,” Nash says sharply, getting my attention, “you are meant to be loved. You are meant to love. I love you, Xander loves you, Jameson loves you and y/n loved you too…”

The change of tense makes my soul ache.

“…but this time around, you made a mistake, a costly mistake. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve love.”

I nod numbly, robotically.

“What can I do to make it up to her?” I ask, my voice beginning to tremble, “to show her I’m sorry? Something there has to be something.”

Nash gives me a grim look and Xander’s face remains blank, they’re the only answers I need. My head sinks into my hands. The door reopens and I look back up. Jameson has returned.

He meets my eyes, “Avery’s with her.”

Blood surges through my heart and I can almost smile. He checked on her. For me.

“Is she okay?” I ask quickly.

Jameson looks at me and for a split second I almost see the ghost concern is his eyes. He shakes his head softly, “no, but she will be,” he replies, it’s an attempt to comfort me and I am grateful.

“Thank you,” I mumble.

“I’m not apologising for what I said, because I still stand by it and you won’t change my mind,” Jameson says, “but I am sorry for being so angry about it.”

“You were right,” I whisper, “you were right about me. I never deserved her, so was nothing but an angel to me and I just turned around and threw it all away. I abused the luxury I had, I stabbed her in the back and then gifted another with the knife, I’m a horrible person.”

“What you did was wrong, but that’s doesn’t make you a horrible person,” he sighs, “you need time Gray, this is going to take a lot of healing. On both sides.”

“I don’t deserve to heal, I deserve to be in pain,” I murmur, the dullness in my tone echos around the empty walls.

“Oh no, we’re not going back to emo Grayson,” Xander says quickly, shaking his head.

“I agree with Xander on this one,” Nash nods, readjusting his cowboy hat.

“I don’t want to hear you blasting my chemical romance at three a.m and then denying it later again, you came out of that phase we’re not going back there,” Jameson tells me.

I bark out a laugh that thaws my icy chest. I then bite the inside of my cheek.

“I can’t fix this, can I?” I say, looking at the ground,

Nash shakes his head softly.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t be fixed,” Xander says.

“You’ll get through this Gray,” Jamie agrees, “I know it.”

The room grows still.

“Can we drink that whiskey now?” I ask, to cut through the silence. I feel like getting drunk, I feel like I need some relief.

“Big brother,” Xander nods at Nash handing him the bottle.

“Little brother,” he tips his cowboy hat in reply before taking the bottle into his hands and cracking it open.

“Let me pour these things properly,” Nash grins, “Jamie, come help.”

“Wait me too!” Xander jumps up,

“Stay with Gray,” he shakes his head.

“I don’t need to be babysat,” I grumble, annoyance written all over my face.

“I want to watch them pour whiskey properly,” Xander explains, “so I can impress Max.”

My eyebrows fly to my forehead, “Max drinks?”

“No I want to impress her though,” he grins.

‘You’re an odd human,” I almost laugh, tilting my head to the side.

“Why ta very much!” he says, almost skipping away.

Once I know they’re all gone, I lean back on the wall, my heart feeling a tiny bit less heavy. The pain isn’t gone. I think I’ve just gone numb. I feel hollow, empty, nothingness. Guilt is still gnawing at my insides but slower. A satifying clink against the fragile rim of the glass takes me out of my own head for a split second. There are hushed voices from the kitchen, I notice. I walk over to the door that lay ajar, I lean in to listen.

“We need to tell him,” it sounds like Jameson.

“Not now,” the accent indicates Nash.

“Then when?” Xander’s voice asks, “how long can we prolong it.”

“I can hear you,” I tell them, raising my voice a little.

They turn to face me, awkwardly remaining silent. The expressions on their faces don’t offer me comfort.

“Whatever it is, spit it out,” I say, “it’s not like tonight could get any worse.”

They share a look. Apparently it can. I feel sick to my stomach.

I can barely breathe, “who died?”

“No one has died,” Xander says quickly, “yet.”

“What?” I say, my tone deadly,

Nash glares at him, then turns back to me. There’s sorrow laced delicately, deep within his hazel irises.

“Gray,” he says gently, “Gray we hate to do this but…”

“What? What is it?” I ask urgently.

“Gigi’s missing.”

The words shock me to my core. I feel my throat begin the close up as panic returns with a smirk and triumphant greeting. My whole world has collapsed in less than 24 hours.

***

YOUR POV

I don’t hate him. Call me naive or call me stupid. But I don’t. I don’t think I ever could. The kind of love I have for him is unconditional, irrevocable. Time can’t heal a wound this deep and although it is still fresh now, I can tell. But if he were to say sorry I think I would forgive him every time. And if he asked me back I’d fall into his arms into an instant. And I hate myself for it, it’s stupid and it’s a little cruel. How easily I would take him back after what he did. I know I shouldn’t but something inside of me is drawn to him. Like an invisible magnet has been planted in our hearts. I wish I didn’t love so hard, fall so deeply, maybe I wouldn’t get hurt so badly. But it’s in my nature, it’s who I am. I wonder if he knows how much pain I’m in, the rippling agony that rolls across my chest relentlessly with no hint as to when it will cease. I’m tired of being the second choice but unfortunately I wouldn’t mind being his. And I know it’s completely stupid of me to think that way, completely wrong but love makes you do stupid things so they say. I sit on the beach, by the sea in a state of numbness. Silent tears roll down my tears as the waves lap my feet. Deja vu washes over me and the memories of Grayson and I the night of the game flash through my mind.

I grip his hand and run with him as he guides me the just beyond the shore. He sits down swiftly on the sand and pulls me down to sit between his legs. I lean my back onto his chest and let him nuzzle his face into my collarbone.

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing my neck, “only you.”

Only me, huh? Only me…

The waves crash against the rocks, hurtling a salty spray towards me. I hear footsteps and turn around. Avery stands there, a mournful expression over her delicate face. She knows. I stumble towards her and collapse into her arms in a fit of uncontrollable sobs now and she holds me. Her touch is gentle and warm but it’s nothing compared to his. I realise he might never hold me in his arms again and I cry even harder.

***

I don’t hold Lyra accountable. She is not to blame. Some girls in my position might dream about different ways to brutally murder her but I can only ask what comfort would it bring me? My feelings are already dead, what good is more pain doing?

There was a choice that Grayson Hawthorne was given: his dancer or his angel. He chose his dancer and I hope he’s happy. Because angels have wings and we rise up stronger.

idk guys I think I wrote Grayson’s POV really awfully to be honest… also I feel like the 911 meet up was not like their normal ones where they try and like do something (e.g drink or dare) and then talk about the pain but that’s bc Grayson was in such a mess and then they had to drop the bomb that Gigi was missing. so anywayyyss…

I am sorry this took so long and I hope it lived up to any expectation you wanted it too (sorry if it didn’t) and I hope you enjoyed 🤍🤍 thanks for reading as always

TIG masterlist

[sixosix]

YOU'VE RUINED MY LIFE BY NOT BEING MINE | LYNEY

notes this chapter switches from lyney to reader, but you’ll notice right away when it does ^__^ and i also wanted to plug in my hcs of aether sjdkwd, wc 2.1k

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Lyney has had many embarrassing moments in his life. Everyone has their moments, eventually, and Lyney’s not the type to keep track of all of them. He couldn’t even count them with his hands if he tried—it’d be as long as Lynette’s weekly receipt of sweets.

The first he could remember was performing in front of a live audience. He forgot his lines, cowered across expectant eyes, and fumbled with his tricks, but he didn’t regret it. That experience made him the illustrious magician he is today.

There was a time when Lyney wasn’t too used to you addressing him so directly and face-planted on the floor when you called out his name. 

He used to hear from the other orphans all the damn time: “Aren’t you at least a little embarrassed?” They never understood why Lyney kept returning to you, even after pushing him away. They never got to understand how thrilling it all was. He was just a little kid with an infatuation—why was he supposed to care about everyone else’s second-hand embarrassment?

He never came to regret any of those. He wouldn’t be here right now if it never came to be. 

However, Master Childe standing frozen while Lyney fumbles with not letting you sway all over the place, might start steadily pushing itself towards the top five. Lyney barely dodged as you nearly elbowed him in the face. Graceless in every form in front of the 11th Harbinger.

You use Lyney to prop yourself up and whip around. “Where’s Lord Tartaglia?”

Master Childe pushes the door open, his silhouette like some angel coming down to say he will tell on ‘Father’ about Lyney hoisting the runaway Fatuu. Political-ness aside, it already looks bad enough that you’re drunk, and he’s dragging you. You hiss like some sort of vampire, and Lyney dutifully shields you from the light. Would it be rude to order Master Childe to fetch glasses of water?

“My head,” you groan.

“I’m sorry,” Lyney says, brushing hair away from your face. “Do you want to lie down?”

You’re not given a chance to lie down nor reply as Childe points a finger in Lyney’s direction.

“Hey, you,” Master Childe says, and Lyney blinks a little fearfully, spine ramrod straight. “I know you. You’re one of the orphans in the House, right?”

“What are you doing here, Master Childe?” Lyney asks, hopefully still conveying his respect.

“Well, the Northland Bank wouldn’t mind some wealthy connections,” Childe says proudly. “And one of the special guests here owes something to the Fontaine Branch.”

“You also know me, Tartaglia,” you chime in, stumbling around and revealing your face to him, wasted as hell.

Lyney holds his breath as Childe’s expression blanks. “Do I?” Childe asks indulgently.

“One of your subordinates!” you exclaim petulantly, as if sulking Childe hasn’t given you the same treatment he gave Lyney.

Childe turns sheepish. “I’m not too familiar with all of them.”

Lyney can’t tell if he’s disappointed or relieved. Instead, he brushes it off and focuses on your well-being. “Y/N, do you think you can walk on your own?”

“Of course I can,” you say, then wobble when Lyney tests it. “W-Wait—”

“Wait,” Childe says, too. “You’re Y/N?”

“Duh.” You sniff.

Lyney smiles. “Please forgive her.”

Childe’s expression does something complicated. “I’m not that good with faces. I do know you—I assigned you here.”

Something about that feels wrong to Lyney, but he’s not given any chance to think too deeply about it when Childe looks as if he is about to reach out to you. Lyney pulls away and takes two steps back when Childe raises his hands. The Harbinger blinks in confusion.

Lyney’s guard is up. “I-I’m sorry—”

Childe lifts his hands in surrender. “I don’t know what you think of me, but I assure you I’m not that kind of person..”

Lyney winces. There goes his first impression on the 11th Harbinger—disrespectful and maddeningly shameless. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to insinuate I thought of you that way, sir.”

Master Childe laughs. “It’s fine. It’s my fault for coming off like that. Do you need help?”

This is definitely beyond rude. You sway on your feet when Lyney moves. “Mon lapin here could really use a glass of water.”

“I feel like I’m going to throw up,” you announce. Lyney and Childe, positions be damned, share the same fearful look.

Thankfully, the aristocrat’s floor was safe from the assault of your breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but the bushes outside the mansion couldn’t share the same sentiment. Lyney and Childe had a moment of silent agreement to keep quiet about this matter if they suddenly wilted.

“Does the lady need any more help?” Childe asks. He’s actually nicer than Lyney expected and even younger than they say when up close. He's less intimidating when he’s not standing across with his features darkened by the light flooding from behind—that was certainly nightmare fuel.

“No!” you exclaim. “I can go home myself,” you say, still slurring your words.

“I’m not letting you do that,” Lyney says, helplessly charmed.

“You should,” you argue, then look a little green again. “Uh oh.”

Childe takes an instinctive step back. “Are you going to throw up again?”

“No, my head,” you whine pitifully. Lyney wishes he could pull that migraine out with his bare hands, but he also finds your expression right now a little hilarious.

Lyney pinches your cheek. “I told you to lay off the alcohol.”

“Did you not want to kiss me because you were scared I would throw up in your mouth?” you ask Lyney.

Lyney freezes, eyes wide. “You’re still on to that? How much do you remember?”

He wants to ask you a million questions when you’re finally not acting so skittish, but he finds that he can’t. He realizes he hasn’t seen you like this before—not hostile or wary of him. You look nice, like everything was before it was ruined. And there was also how you willingly wanted him to kiss you.

As you press against him, Lyney watches as you deflate like a balloon faced with a needle. You sigh softly, then bury your face against his neck.

“You’re so warm,” you murmur to his skin.

Goosebumps blossom all over his body. Your face brushes against the side of his neck. “Do you hate it?”

“I like it. My hands are cold. Every part of you is warm.”

“Would you like me to warm you up?”

“Mhm. Thanks.”

This is so unfair. Lyney wants to bury his face in your hair and hide there, hoping you’d cling to him forever like this. But that won’t happen in this lifetime or any other one. (He doesn’t pry you off in this lifetime, however.)

The grand entrance doors slide open. Lynette emerges from the party with a tentative look on her face. She swiftly rushes over to Lyney, then is visibly startled when she notices Master Childe still hanging around.

Oh. Right. Why the hell is Master Childe still here?

Lynette bows her head, addressing their superior. He laughs and waves it off like he’s no one important in the streets. His sister turns to him, whispering, “Lyney, ‘Father’ is looking for us. She’s asking for us right now.”

Lyney’s skin crawls. “What? Why now?”

She shakes her head, her eyes flicking back and forth between you and Childe. “I’m not sure. She wasn’t supposed to come this early.”

Lyney frowns, glancing down at you. “I can’t just…”

“We can’t bring her there with ‘Father’ in, too,” Lynette murmurs. Lyney curses, knowing she’s right.

“What’s wrong?” you ask from where you’re pressed against Lyney. “Oh! Hi, ‘nette!”

“Hello, Y/N,” Lynette says warmly. It seems fondness for Y/N runs in the family. “Do you have anywhere to go to? May I ask where it is?”

“Yes, of course I do!”

Lynette looks over to Lyney. “I don’t think this is going to work.”

Lyney, as much as he hates to, glances back at Childe, who is, unfortunately, and fortunately, still standing there.

“Good idea,” Lynette praises, seemingly catching on to what Lyney is thinking.

“That’s her boss,” Lyney says, instinctively shielding you from him. “What if she gets fired because of this?”

“She won’t be,” Lynette says. “And I’m sure that Master Childe would at least make sure Y/N is somewhere safe before he leaves. And right now, we have to do that, too.”

Lyney doesn’t want to, but he doesn’t trust showing you to ‘Father’, too. It’s been too long—he doesn’t know what ‘Father’ would think of you, and her decisions happen in a split-second.

“Lyney,” Lynette says, in the tone of Let’s not keep ‘Father’ waiting.

Perhaps Lyney really isn’t thinking straight himself. “Master Childe?” Lyney calls out. He takes a deep breath and says, “We are in your debt.”

You wake up to a pounding headache and realize that Aether’s hair glows in the dark when fully blacked out. You had an inkling when it looked like Aether was illuminated at night, but seeing it up close is startling.

“Holy shit! Aether, your hair!” You sit up but belatedly regret it when the migraine returns to full force. “Holy shit,” you say again, for a different reason this time.

“Stop swearing,” Aether sighs, looking alien as he moves and speaks like a human being, yet his hair radiates light like the sun—literally. “Can we pull the curtains open?”

“Nooo,” you sob. “I want to sleep again. It hurts.”

“Paimon, if you will.”

The fairy salutes and shows no sliver of mercy as you’re ravaged by sunlight piercing your eyes. It feels like all your cells are screaming in protest. Or maybe you’re the one screaming.

“Huh,” Aether says thoughtfully. “Just as I suspected. You’re wearing the same shade of lipstick.”

You don’t care about your lips right now. Thinking about how dry your mouth is has you wanting to throw up. “What does that even mean?”

Aether ignores it. He’s starting to act like a stern, disappointing mother. “Do you remember what happened last night? Imagine my surprise when I see Childe sneaking in my teapot, carrying you like a passed-out damsel.”

Memories of last night flashed behind your eyelids, most of them featuring the 11th Harbinger, and your blood runs cold. “Oh no.”

“He’s still here, and he’s asking to talk with you.”

Your cells haven’t stopped screaming; they’re scattering around in panic. You certainly feel as if you’re being jostled around. “I think I’m going to throw up again.”

Pitying you, Aether reaches from the bedside desk and hands a glass full of water that’s delightfully the perfect temperature. But apparently, he doesn’t pity you enough to not drag you out of bed.

You didn’t understand what Aether meant when he said Teapot, but while on the way to where Childe was resting, Paimon explained that you were all walking in a floating teapot hanging around somewhere in some corner of Fontaine. Faintly, you wondered if you were still drunk.

Master Childe is all sprawled legs on the living room couch. He senses your presence right away, waving with a bright smile.

“I think I did pretty well last night, comrade.” Childe flashes a grin to Aether, who rolls his eyes. “They didn’t question anything!”

“It’s because you’re their superior.” Aether turns to you, plucking the empty glass from your shaky fingers. “Sit beside them. I have something to ease your migraine.”

You could cry. Instead, you obediently sit beside the feared and renowned 11th Harbinger, moving as stiff as a board.

“Hey.” Childe tilts his head as he studies your face. “You look pale.”

“Sir!” You bow, then promptly start retching.

Chidle laughs, “Calm down, calm down. You don’t have to be so formal. You spoke easily last night.”

“I was drunk,” you murmur, face heating up. You couldn’t recall how easily you spoke to him last night—it’s all a blur. Thinking too hard about it has you dizzy.

“Loosen up then. You’re a friend of the Traveler, aren’t you? That makes us comrades, too.” Childe sinks into his seat, grinning. “I already got the gist of the situation. I gotta say, that’s dangerous deceiving the Arlecchino, of all people.”

“If it involved Teucer, wouldn’t you do the same?” Aether chimes in, entering the room, holding a tray with three glasses.

Chidle guffaws, “Fair enough!”

Paimon settles beside you, looking as alien as Aether earlier by sitting down. Your drink looked different from Paimon’s and Childe’s, but you reasoned that Aether still needed your intel to not poison you.

“It wasn’t part of the agreement to have to see my subordinates canoodling, though,” Childe says offhandedly. “Your boyfriend was like a leech.”

“Lyney is not my boyfriend,” you say automatically.

Childe laughs at first, but it dies down seeing your confusion.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh.” He turns to Aether, who nods sagely, world-weary.

imagine: lyney returning to the bench he left you and childe on, seeing that you’re both gone, and exclaiming FUCK

notes omg its been a while……….How is everyone!!! sorry i know this is so short but im just glad i finally update after like?? nearly a month and a half?? 😭😭😭 tbh im not too proud of this chapter but i cant tell if its bc its been so long or if its bc its actually badjhfkjd EITEHR WAY THANK YOU FOR REAADDINGGG

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[soulaires]

Whiskey on ice.

pairings: Aaron Warner x Fem!Reader

summary: What’s the best thing that ever happened to you and why is it (drunk) Aaron Warner?

warnings: alcohol, ooc(?) Aaron Warner, kissing, suggestive themes, fluff, and a light smut!

« words: 2.09k ┇ao3┇reblogs are appreciated! »

🪩:: voicemail ; read my other aaron warner fics here.

The phone buzzed insistently on your nightstand, waking you from your deep slumber. Groaning, you fumbled for it in the darkness, squinting at the screen.

Kenji’s name illuminated the room.

Of course, it was fucking Kenji. Damn you, Kishimoto.

“What the fuck do you want?” You mumbled, your voice thick with annoyance and sleepiness.

“Hey there, sunshine,” came Kenji's sarcastic voice through the speaker. “So sorry to interrupt your slumber, sleeping beauty.” Kenji slurred, clearly drunk.

“Kenji, it’s two in the morning,” you groaned, rubbing your eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Well, I’ve got a little situation here,” he replied, his tone strangely cryptic.

Jesus Christ.

“What kind of situation?” You asked, growing more concerned by the second.

“Aaron fucking Warner.” Kenji deadpanned.

“He's had a bit too much to drink,” Kenji explained, his voice full of amusement.

"Tell her I love her!"

You grinned when you heard Warner’s drunken voice in the background cutting kenji off. He definitely sounded as if he’d had a bit more to drink than usual.

“And he's a little... clingy and needy, to say the least.” He continued.

“Kishimoto, tell her I love her!” Your boyfriend's voice can be heard in the background.

“He says he lo—” Kenji paused, his phone shuffled loudly and your eyes narrowed at the sound. And then you heard Aaron on Kenji's phone a second later.

“My love, I love you,” Aaron said to the other line.

“I love you too, Aaron.” You replied, smiling.

“You’re the most beautiful person I have laid my eyes upon, angel. My pretty love,” Aaron continued. “You are my face of aphrodite, The human embodiment of all of my desires, my beloved.”

You felt your cheeks heat at the compliment, biting up a smile, “Oh don’t you think that’s an exaggeration—“

“No,” Aaron cut you off firmly. “It is not, it’s the truth, my love. You-you are-“

“Warner, give me back my phone, asshole!”

As you fought back a laughter, you still can hear your boyfriend’s drunk voice in the background.

“Drunk Aaron Warner?” you repeated, trying to wrap your head around the image. “I thought that was a myth.”

“Oh, it's very real,” Kenji assured you. “And I need your help to wrangle him. He won't stop talking about you, and he's insistent on seeing you.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. The thought of a tipsy Aaron Warner being affectionate and flirtatious was too tempting to resist.

“I'll be right there,” you said, already throwing on some clothes and grabbing your keys.

“Okay, we will just try to make him drink water,” Kenji assured you.

“Oh my fucking god—no, Warner, you fucking tell her that! That’s too much information, man. Disgusting.”

You hear kenji rant, not entirely sure you wanted to know what drunk aaron was spewing to kenji.

“Y’all need to leave me alone to y’all’s sex life, for real.” Kenji mumbled as he turned off the call.

When you arrived at the designated meeting spot, you spotted Kenji standing by a black car. Aaron Warner was leaning against the vehicle, his normally impeccable suit rumpled and his tie hanging loose. He looked a little disheveled, but his green eyes sparkled with mischief as he caught sight of you.

“There’s my pretty baby,” Aaron slurred, pushing off the car and stumbling toward you.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his unsteady gait. "Hey, darling. Having a good time?"

Aaron grinned broadly, his trademark stoicism replaced by an endearing warmth. "The best time," he declared. "But it could be even better if you were here with me."

Kenji rolled his eyes as he strutted off to you and Aaron. "Take him home, will you? He's been driving me crazy all night." You only nodded and gave him a smile.

As you led Aaron to the car, he leaned into you, resting his head on your shoulder. "You're so pretty," he slurred.

You couldn't help but blush at his candidness. "I think you're pretty great too, Warner."

With some effort, you managed to get him into the passenger seat. He insisted on holding your hand during the entire drive, peppering your knuckles with sweet, slightly drunken kisses.

"You're amazing," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "I'm lucky to have you."

As the ride goes on, Aaron’s hand had traveled from your hand to your inner thigh, caressing it and making you shiver from his touch.

“Aaron! We’re on the road, hands to yourself!” You told him, pulling out his hand from your thigh.

“‘m sorry, love, can’t help myself.” He mumbled. “You just smell so good, makes me wanna…” after that, you can’t understand the incoherent words he was saying.

“uhuh,” you mused, “keep your hands to yourself for a moment, yeah?” You told him as warner only grunted in response.

When you arrived home, you helped him out of the car. He stumbled a few times, but you were there to catch him each time. Inside, you settled him on the couch, where he promptly draped himself across your lap.

"You're comfy," he mumbled, nuzzling into your thigh.

You chuckled, running your fingers through his tousled hair. "I'm glad you think so."

As you went to the kitchen to grab him some water, you felt him following you.

His hands firmly gripped your hips once more, drawing you close to him in an abrupt, passionate motion. A gasp of surprise escaped your lips as his forehead lowered to meet yours. The faint scent of alcohol lingered on his breath as he nestled his nose against yours.

"I just want to make love to you tonight, angel," he murmured, his words causing your breath to quicken. His intentions were crystal clear, and you felt your resolve waver in response to his desire.

Breathing becoming shallower, you struggled to maintain composure as he continued, his hands descending to firmly grasp your hips, pressing your body against his.

"Not— not tonight," you stammered out, fighting against the powerful pull of his closeness.

"I just want to make you feel good, my sweet girl," he whispered, his voice laced with desire. His hands slid sensuously down to your waist, pulling your hips into a slow, intoxicating dance with his.

"Want to take care of you. Always want to take care of you."

You moistened your lips, trying to regain control, all while Aaron's hips moved against yours, making it increasingly difficult to resist. You exhaled a deep breath, attempting to stay collected.

"Not tonight, baby," you whispered back, your voice trembling.

His lips lowered beside your ear, sending shivers down your spine as they brushed against your skin. "I always take care of my love," he purred, placing a lingering kiss along your neck. "Always take real good care of you, my sweet angel."

"Let me take care of you tonight, please."

"Not when you've drunk so much," you replied, your voice wavering. With great effort, you managed to step back out of his embrace, resisting the urge to grind back into him. "Let's get you to the couch. I'll get you some water."

Aaron sighed deeply, his hands halting their explorations. You guided him down the hallway towards his couch, and he plopped down onto it. You fetched a glass of water from his kitchen and handed it to him. He downed it quickly, and you set the empty cup on the coffee table.

Turning your attention back to him, you noticed his disheveled work clothes. "How about I help you get ready for bed? Does that sound good?"

A sly grin crossed Aaron's face as he replied, "That depends. What are we doing in bed?"

"Sleeping, Aaron," you asserted firmly. Bending over, you took hold of his hands and gently tugged him from the couch. "Come on."

After helping Aaron into his bed, you slipped in beside him. He immediately curled up against you, his arms enveloping your waist.

"You're incredible," he whispered, breaking the silence.

You couldn't help but snort softly and shake your head. "And you're drunk," you replied.

"No, I'm serious," he insisted. "You're so smart, kind-hearted, funny, perfect. You're... you're too good for me. Much too good for me."

A frown creased your brow as he continued, his words spilling forth in a torrent of insecurity. "And I can't help but wonder how a heart like yours could ever love a heart like mine. You deserve someone better."

"Stop that, Aaron," you warned, your voice gentle but firm.

He shook his head vigorously. "Shush. Do not worry, my love," he murmured. "I'm far too selfish to want to give you up now.

"I will keep trying to be better to deserve you, my beloved. Please remember that," he said earnestly, his gaze locked onto yours.

"Aaron..." you began, but he interrupted.

"Please don't ever get tired of me," he pleaded. You looked at him, your heart swelling with affection, and kissed his forehead.

"I won't, love. You have me until the end of the universe," you assured him.

"I love you," he declared, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that held your attention.

For a moment, you were captivated by the depth of emotion in his eyes, as if his "I love you" carried a significance beyond words.

"I love you too," you whispered back, feeling a warmth spread through your heart. His head tilted slightly, a softer expression on his face, his lips parting in a gentle smile.

His gaze remained fixed on you, and you sensed that his love was something profound, something that words could never truly capture.

After a moment of silence, he spoke up.

“Love?” he asked tentatively through the dark.

“Hmm?” you answered.

There was a brief moment of hesitation before he spoke.

“Will you at least kiss me?” he asked.

“Of course, pretty boy,” you replied.

You leaned in, his lips seeking yours. The kiss was passionate and filled with an intensity that made your head spin.

As the night wore on, Aaron's clinginess increased. He refused to let you go, holding your waist tightly and pulling your head into his chest. He rested his head on your hair, and maybe nuzzle your neck affectionately.

his head shifting along the pillow for a moment before you felt him brush his lips against your forehead. Your eyes closed, a smile spreading across your mouth. And then gradually you both fell asleep.

___

Bonus:

The soft glow of dawn crept into the kitchen as you tiptoed in, careful not to make too much noise. You knew Aaron had indulged in one too many drinks last night, and he'd likely be nursing a hangover this morning. Your heart swelled with affection for him as you prepared to make breakfast, wanting to take care of him in the best way you knew how.

As you quietly scrambled eggs and toasted bread, you couldn't help but smile at the thought of how your relationship with Aaron had evolved.

Just as you were about to flip the eggs, you felt a pair of strong arms encircle your waist. Aaron's chin rested on your shoulder, and he hugged you from behind, his body warm against yours.

"Morning, love," he slurred, his voice thick with sleep and the remnants of alcohol.

You chuckled softly and turned off the stove before turning in his embrace. "Morning, Aaron. Head hurts?"

"Mhm," he hummed, nuzzling your neck as if seeking comfort.

You reached up to run your fingers through his disheveled hair, a soothing gesture that seemed to help alleviate his discomfort. "Remember what I said last night?"

He pulled back slightly, his green eyes searching yours with a playful glint. "Y’know something from the kitchen."

You raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out which of his drunken declarations he was referring to. "Which one?"

He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, a tender, lingering kiss that left you slightly breathless.

And then it clicked.

"You said you wanted to take care of me and make love, but I said no because you were drunk," you said.

A faint blush crept across your cheeks as you remembered his needy and flirtatious behavior from the night before.

Aaron smirked, a wicked glint in his gaze.

"Well, I’m not drunk now." He said, smirking.

Oh Gods.

Your heart raced as his hands roamed your waist, pulling you closer. "Aaron, your hangover—"

He silenced your protests with another heated kiss.

Authors Note:

Woohoo 🫡 here’s a short fic for y’all since I’m still finishing up

the 12k+ Aaron Warner 7 evil exes fic (only 1 and a half chapter left) 🥸 anyway, enjoy!

English is not my first language and this isn’t beta read! And also my first time writing a fic 😮‍💨

Please let me know what you think :)

[pupkashi]

boyfriend!yuta headcanons

a/n: i have been having major yuta brainrot as of late ,, here u guys go ! i hope these are too badly ooc seeing as though I’ve only written for him a couple times ! they’re a bit all over the place so plz lmk what y’all think :3

wordcount: 1,183

masterlist

first things first this boy is an absolute nervous wreck anytime he’s around you before he asks you out, I’m talking stuttering and fumbling over his words, looking anywhere but you, trying his best to not embarrass himself (he inevitably does poor guy)

asks you out when it’s just the two of you, on a picnic or watching a movie, his palms are sweaty because what if he just hallucinated you saying you liked him back and this is a big mistake??

okok this boy would definitely wear those ‘i love my s/o’ shirts, starts off as a joke, then wears it unironically because yeah, he does love you, what about it??

the biggest simp in the world yall, does anything you want him to, buys you whatever you want whenever you want it, you tell him jump he’s asking how high while already jumping

it’s a serious problem, considering you now have to make it clear that just because you say something is nice doesn’t mean you want it

“this sweater is nice right yuu?” “yeah it is really nice” ,,,, “yuta why do you have two bags?” “i got you the sweater in every color you like :3”

you’re always getting packages at your door, handing them to him only for him to say ‘oh that’s actually for you!’

the worst part of this is he absolutely hates when you get him something, always telling you to spend your money on yourself or save it, saying he has everything he needs already

still accepts your gifts with open arms, over the moon because ‘you really thought of me ?? i love you :(‘ he literally is ‘🥺’ if it was a person

calls you every sweet nickname he can think of: baby, babe, sweetheart, darling, my love, honey (he tends to favor my love and darling)

you tend to call him things like: baby, lover, pretty boy, angel

he turns into an absolute blushing mess when you call him pretty boy and angel, giggling and trying to not forget what he was talking to you about in the first place

the kind of boyfriend who will buy you flowers weekly, no matter what.

ever since he overheard you on the phone talking about how much you loved his ‘just because’ flowers, he made it a reoccurring purchase at a local flower shop

gets you all your favorite snacks when he just so happens to stop by at a convenience store, handing them to you with a happy grin, ‘we can have movie night with snacks now!’

has your coffee order memorized before you guys even started dating, rarely asks if you want some, usually just surprises you with it <3

he is such a homebody boyfriend :( prefers calm and cozy nights in sipping on hot chocolate cuddles in warm blankets over going out

takes you out to nice restaurants though !! especially if you like going out, he’ll take you on all kinds of dates

goes ice skating, amusement parks, the fair, laser tag (you destroyed him), escape rooms, literally everything

at restaurants if you’re between two things to order he’ll get one of the ones you want so you get try both :3

if you don’t like what you ordered he’ll swap with you / will tell you to order something different, saying he’ll take the other plate home and eat it tomorrow so you don’t feel bad abt it <3

LOVES going grocery shopping with you </3 finds it so domestic and lovely to be able to pick you celery with you (he also gets excited when you ask him what he wants to eat so you can get the stuff for it)

he’ll always tell you he wants to bake cookies and other treats with you, grabbing all the ingredients and grinning at you sheepishly when the cart starts to get full

“we came here for four things, how did you manage to make me get all these things” “cause you love me” he giggles

giggles at everything you say !!!!! topples over laughing when you tell a joke (we get it bro you love us 😭)

it’s so easy to make him blush and flustered, literally just winking at him makes his brain short circuit (let’s not get started on when you two make out) (he whimpers 🤭)

has pictures of you as his lockscreen, always smiles a bit when he unlocks his phone, when he’s away on missions he finds himself checking the time more often than he really needs to

AMAZING TEXTER !!!!! will reply to you very quickly and address all your messages and reacts to all the things you send him (everyone is amazed because is this the same yuta who left them on deliver red for three days before replying ??)

he is SO the jealous type ,, he tries not to be, really he hates having negative emotions of any kind, but he can’t help it :(

his entire demeanor changed drastically when someone starts flirting with you, he’s standing up straighter, clenching his jaw and has that threatening look on his face, no sign of the once cheerful and bubbly boy

he’s wrapping an arm around you, tugging on your hand and trying to get you alone so he can make out with you and remind both you and himself that you’re only his <33

insanely protective of you !!! he’ll be holding your hand in public, always making sure he knows where you are, in crowded areas he has one hand on your waist to help you through the crowds <33

will obliterate anyone who even tries to threaten you, ‘look at them again and you’ll be wishing i had killed you’ but in a not creepy and actually very 🦋way yk ?

really listens to you and everything you have to say, asking questions about your interests and genuinely loves listening to you talk about the things you like <3

i know he gets u literally everything but he gives you amazing and thoughtful gifts for special occasions !! he manages to always get you perfect gifts every single time <3

he compliments you everyday without fail, no matter where he is in the world, he will ALWAYS tell you how stunning you look !!!

reminds you everyday how much he loves you, telling you and leaving you little notes, writes you love letters like he’s away at war even though he’s most likely to get back before the letter even ships

cooks you dinner when he has the chance (he’s actually a pretty good cook!!) going all the way with wine (if you drink of course) and roses

uses your shampoo and conditioner sometimes because he just loves the way they smell and they remind him so much of u hehe

has your skincare routine memorized to when you’re too exhausted to do it he can do it for you <3

he’s overall just a soft and sweet lover, doing anything and everything he can for you because he knows you’re the one for him <33

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