#carbs fix everything

[coveredinratz]

Ain’t nothin’ a bagel won’t fix

[detentiontrack]

Happy day 10 of this migraine. Should I throw a party when it inevitably gets to 14 days?

[carbonateddelusion]

guess who literally just figured out that it's in a depressive episode. this guyy

[flamboyant-king]

Magfest was fun! Walked around as Cammy, made a lot of “merch,” talked to a bunch of cool dudes, traded wares, met new friends and finally met old ones, got a jello shot from a Raccacoonie cosplayer, ate so much awful food, learned of new games, and got inspired.

I made so many buttons of cammypus and other funny creatures, folded 50+ origami boxes for the perler bead crafters, and drew on any paper I can find. It was nice and now I have no money.

[proustianrevelry]

is it weird to have a hard time telling the difference between psychosomatic symptoms from being upset vs just being in a bad mood bc sthg's wrong physically?

like ive been feeling shitty basically all day and was like "damn, did reading one(1) negative review of a thing i like ruin my entire morning?"

and then i realized, no, this sick feeling in my stomach is actually hunger + acid reflux

[latetaektalk]

love to hate you | jjk [viii]

“when obnoxiously rich and spoiled frat boy jeon jungkook comes up to you one day and asks you to fake date him for money, you definitely should have said no. because before you knew it, you were going on insta dates with him and having lunch with his equally obnoxiously rich and spoiled friends.”

— genre: sexual themes, angst, fluff, fratboy! AU, fake dating! AU, college! AU, rich kid! AU, enemies to lovers! AU

— pairing: jungkook x female reader

— word count: 18.351

— warnings: swearing/cursing, communication skills nowhere to be found, chronic overthinking, emotional rollercoaster, confusingly set during christmas <3

— a/n: and just like that we've crossed 100k !! its here, the big one. by far one of my favourite chapters that ive written so far!! hope you guys enjoy it!! praying yall wont hate me for this one haha once again, this is inspired by To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before by Jenny Han!

You didn’t miss the look Chaeyoung and Jisoo exchanged, or the way Hoseok longingly looked after Jimin as he quickly walked away to get everyone some food after you sat down, or how Jimin muttered something about how someone clearly needed something to eat. The comment didn’t bother you because he was right and you could admit as much.

The mall had never been your favourite place to go, and even less so today. The Christmas decoration put up around you seemed overly tacky and in bad taste, and you could have ripped off your ears, sick of listening to the same three Christmas songs over and over again. You closed your eyes that ached from the bright colourful lights, and scrunched your nose when your arm bumped into one of your shopping bags. Your patience hung by a string, the fibers breaking with every passing second. Everything hurt, from your head to your arms and your feet.

Nothing was right, and there seemed to be no end to it.

“Fries?” 

Jimin specifially offered them to you, placing two medium plates of golden fries in the middle of the table. You took him up on it, taking two and throwing them into your mouth. The fries were bland and not salty enough but you took three more pieces, shoving your face full. As if the grease and carbs would fix anything. 

“Do you wanna try the thrift store that Ji suggested?” Chaeyoung asked, choosing her words carefully, and you cringed, shaking your head. 

“No.”

The silence continued, and you didn’t miss the looks your friends exchanged. There was clearly a conversation going on over your head, but you didn’t care, reaching for one fry after the other.

“Y/N, it’s gonna be fine,” Jimin said in the end, putting his arm around your shoulder. Bold, but when was he not. “Don’t be so down. That one dress- the beige one looked great on you!”

“Yeah, but also, they don’t care about what you wear,” Jisoo continued, not allowing you to even begin to disagree.

“And you still have time to find the perfect thing, right? If you do decide that the dress isn’t up to standard. Didn’t you get some stuff online too?” Hoseok asked, trying to get you to look at him, but you just closed your eyes and pulled your lips into a line.

They didn’t get it. But telling them that would be of no use, just like how their words didn’t encourage you the slightest bit. 

“I promise you Kook’s parents are really the sweetest people I’ve-”

“Yeah, maybe, I don’t know,” you mumbled, cutting off Jimin. You rubbed your eyes until you saw black spots. With a sigh, you leaned back. “I’ll figure it out, I think.”

There was no confidence in your words. To you, it seemed like your life was about to end, all over a stupid outfit you couldn’t put together. The thought almost made you laugh and cry at the same time. This was as ridiculous as it could get. 

“What did Kook say?” Chaeyoung asked, and you frowned.

“About what?”

She blinked at you, her brows creasing together. “Well, have you talked to Kook about any of this? How you’re worried about meeting his parents?”

You pressed your mouth into a line, and you didn’t even know where to begin. It seemed futile to you to explain that you possibly couldn’t tell Jungkook about all of the thoughts suffocating your mind. You would look stupid, like an absolute fool. You would look like you cared, and really, you didn’t. It would weird him out—how much you stressed about it, how much it was on your mind. But then again, really, actually, you didn’t care at all. You just were… especially irritable these days. Hormones were raging—your period, of course, greeting you just a day prior.

“No,” you exhaled, shaking your head. You didn’t know what exactly you were denying—you being stressed about meeting his parents, or you not talking about it to him. Probably both. “He’s busy with his stuff. He’s got a paper to finish- it’s fine.”

And even though you closed your eyes, you knew your friends were looking at each other. There was a carefulness with which they spoke to you, and you did feel bad. Just nothing seemed to lift your spirits.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t been in… a good mood these days,” you told them, getting more annoyed at yourself for being the way you were. You hid your face in your hands. “I don’t know what’s up with me.”

“It’s fine,” Jimin assured you. “We know you’re stressed.”

Jisoo placed an arm around you, leaning her shoulder against yours. She opened her mouth before closing again, ultimately she decided to speak. 

“What if… you don’t go?” 

“Ji,” Jimin whispered, looking at her as if she had just suggested something criminal.

“I’m just saying— it’s stressing her out so much, maybe she shouldn’t go.” Jisoo shrugged, believing her suggestion to be rather harmless. “She can meet his parents another time, right?”

You looked at her. She grimaced, apologetic, about to backpedal, taking your expression as offence. But you waved her off. Her suggestion was meant well, you knew that. It would also be more than a lie to say you hadn’t thought about it too. Of course, you had. But you couldn’t do it. Not when the image of Narae popped into your mind every time you did consider it. 

“Okay, fine,” Jisoo sighed, relenting. “But I’m just saying he’ll understand if you don’t want to go. It’s not like you guys are getting married.”

Chaeyoung mumbled something to her, but you couldn’t hear it. If you had to guess she told her to lay it off, which you were admittedly thankful for.

“I don’t even have gifts,” you groaned, remembering that your outfit wasn’t the only issue plagueing your mind. “Do I bring an actual gifts? Or just wine? Flowers? Something more personal? I don’t fucking know.”

“Do you have to bring them anything?” Hoseok asked, frowning. “I mean yeah, I guess it’s Christmas and you’re meeting them for the first time, but I don’t know, I’m not sure if you have to bring them anything.”

“I don’t think you do. They’re just happy to meet you, I promise,” Jimin said, squeezing your shoulder, but somehow, his answer annoyed you even more. Because what if he was wrong? And they use it as a reason as to why they didn’t like you because you showed up empty handed? Poor and rude? You wouldn’t even take a single step in their home. And even if Jimin was right, that they were just happy to meet you—it seemed even worse. Because all you had to show for yourself to Jungkook’s parents then would be…. yourself. 

And what if that wasn’t enough?

You groaned, leaning back again. Everything was making your situation only worse, giving you an even bigger headache, feeding the heavy pit in your stomach. And as you spiraled, you didn’t notice the rather obvious text Chaeyoung send, or the even more obvious way Jimin’s phone lit up on the table to display it, just for him to quickly grab it and start typing. Jisoo leaned over to look, and Chaeyoung quickly mumbled something into Hoseok’s ear. You wouldn’t even notice the way Chaeyoung jumped when you spoke suddenly again,

“Let’s just finish eating and go home. I wanna go home.” 

No one protested.

By the end, the fries were gone and the grease had eaten through the recycled brown paper plates, and your mood wasn’t much better, still the same level of annoyance always buzzing in the back of your mind. Grabbing the bags from the various shops you had walked in and out of with your friends today, you made your way out of the mall. Stepping outside, you hugged yourself, the wind harsher than the past few days. 

“What way is your car again?” you asked, teeth gritting. Your question was aimed at Chaeyoung, but you didn’t have the nerve to look at her. With the tip of your boot, you scraped against the concret, enjoying the way it rolled back and forth. You lifted your head when no one would answer, confused by the silence.

“Oh, uh,” Chaeyoung began, glancing at Jimin who was typing away on his phone. “Give us… a minute.”

She said it as if it was a question, gesturing for you to wait. You looked over to Jisoo and Hoseok for some sort of explanation, but they both kept their mouths shut.

“Where’s your girlfriend’s car?”

Hoseok blushed, and you knew he still wasn’t used to the development of his and Chaeyoung’s relationship. It was cute, and it did make you smile a little.

“Just tell me.” 

You tried nice. Nice didn’t work.

“I-I don’t know.” 

You sighed, your hands on your hips, shopping bags knocking on your legs. The cold wavered your voice.

“Ji?”

But rather than even say anything, or make an attempt to stall you, she waved you off, flicking her wrist back and forth. At least, Hoseok and Chaeyoung tried to dismiss you subtly.

“Oh my God, what are you guys looking at? Can we just go home, I’m really cold here and I just wanna-”

“Ah, yes, he’s here!” Jimin exclaimed before slapping his hand over his mouth, eyes wide. “Oops.”

You stopped, not needing a second to understand. Jisoo punched his arm. 

“You texted Jeon?”

If you were upset and annoyed before, you were even more so now. You leaned forward, as if the reality weighed down on you and physically pushed you. Your eyes darted back and forth between your friends before ultimately landing on Jimin, who was shrinking in on himself.

“Are you guys for real?” you hissed, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. You could have ripped out your hair. “But why?”

Everyone looked to Chaeyoung. “We- we think it’d be good if you talk to him. You’re clearly stressed about meeting his parents, so why not talk about it?”

She added on a smile, and you closed your eyes, groaning. 

“Guys, I’m fine.” You dug your hands through your hair, looking over your shoulder, relieved to see that he was nowhere. “Where is he? Is he here already? Tell him to go home. He has a paper to-”

An arm wrapped around your shoulder, and you didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“Go home.”

“Damn, hi, it’s nice to see you too, cabbage,” Jungkook laughed, grinning at you even as you frowned at him. He pinched your nose, and you didn’t even have it in you to swat his hand aside, closing your eyes instead. 

“You guys weren’t kidding. She’s in a bad mood.”

Your frown deepened, mouth setting into a thin line. Jungkook squeezed your shoulder, quietly apologising to you for his comment, but his smile remained on his lips. 

“Alright, I think—” Chaeyoung hooked her arm into Hoseok’s. “—it’s time to go.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll take her home,” Jungkook said, nodding to confirm his own words. “Get home safe.”

“Great, text us when you get home,” Jisoo said, waving at you. “We love you, Y/N! And oh, nice scarf!”

Jungkook laughed, thanking her.

“Yeah, good luck, Kook! Also love ya, Y/N!” Jimin laughed before taking off, sprinting ahead, scared you might just throw one of your bags after him. (Which you were strongly considering) The others waved you goodbye, and even though you were more than ticked off, you did the same, mumbling a goodbye their way. God knows they had put up with your attitude with enough grace today already. You sighed once they left your sight, shrugging off Jungkook.

You looked at him and your gaze softened, if only a little. Even more so when you saw it, wrapped around his neck so prettily. There was something very messy about him today—his hair not done in its usual way, hanging into his eyes, getting longer each time you saw him, the collar of his coat not folded down properly. If you had to guess, he had walked out the moment he got the text from Jimin. But he had thought of your scarf, looped it around his neck carefully. Looking at him now, out in the cold, you were glad you had invested the time into learning how to knit. The scarf suited him, the red matching him well. You were almost tempted to knit another one, one in every colour.

“You’re wearing the scarf.”

“Of course,” he returned, smiling at you, and you wondered if his cheeks hurt, red from the cold. 

The thought embarrassed you. You looked down, returning to rolling the tip of your boot on the conrete, back and forth, back and forth.

“Go home.”

“Okay, yeah, let’s go home together.”

He reached to take the bags from you, but you pulled away, lifting your head. “No, Jeon, go home. I’m fine.”

Jungkook shoved his hands into his pockets, shaking his head. This wasn’t going to be easy, he realised. “And how will you get home?”

His question made you frown, as if that was the issue at hand right now. You almost scoffed.

“I’ll walk-”

“Right, because walking in the cold is such a good idea, hm?

“Fine, I’ll take the bus.”

“Do you even know where the next bus station is?” 

“I can look it up.”

“Or you can just, you know,“ he leaned towards you, and you couldn’t back off, “not be so stubborn and let me just give you a ride home.”

You pursed your lips, shaking your head. Why was he being oh so frustrating? Why couldn’t he make this easy for you? Why wasn’t he at all discouraged by your behaviour? It didn’t make any sense to you. He should be annoyed with you and your attitude, infuriated because you were being difficult for no real reason. And yet, he smiled and laughed at you, showed you patience. It was strange to you, unexpected.

“I never asked you to pick me up.” 

It was like you were a goddamn teenager, fighting with her parents, trying your very best to tick them off. It was like you wanted him to be mad at you, and in some ways, in some real ways, maybe you did. You felt sorry for your friends about your attitude, but not with Jungkook somehow. For some reason, you couldn’t extend the same empathy to him. At least not in this moment.

He didn’t say anything, hesitated, his brows creasing together. His eyes darted to the ground before ultimately finding you again, tongue in his cheek, nodding. For a moment, you thought you won, did it. 

“Yeah, you didn’t,” Jungkook said, taking one two three steps in your direction, slowly prying the shopping bags from you. “But I’m still here to pick you up.”

And when he met you with a smile, you knew there wasn’t anything you could do. You let your head hang, as tears shot into your eyes. It had never happened before, you were never one quick to cry, but right now you felt like it. You blinked them away, not allowing Jungkook to know.

He took your silence as a sign of defeat, which it was. Very much so. He had won, and you had to admit that you were actually relieved. That he had proven you wrong, that he hadn’t just left after you had repeatedly insisted he should, or gotten annoyed and sick with you. 

Jungkook shifted all of the shopping bags into one hand, using his free one to grab yours. Like he would, of course he would, he placed a kiss on the back of your hand before putting your hands into his coat pocket to keep warm, together. You could have begun crying again.

“Be a good girlfriend, alright?” he told you, leading you to his car, and you scoffed, hoping your voice didn’t sound as unstable and shaky as you felt.

“Be a good girlfriend?” you repeated, raising a brow. Jungkook was quick to see his mistake and correct himself,

“I mean, let me be a good boyfriend to my girlfriend and pick her up after a—” He hesitated, squinting as if he was searching for the right word. “—fun, right?”

There was something inherently cheeky and smug about Jungkook. But you couldn’t quite take offence to any of it, nodding, even if you knew that today wasn’t the funnest day. (And you were to blame.)

“Fun day at the mall with her friends.”

You pressed your lips together. “But what about your paper?”

He paused and looked at you before shaking his head and laughing. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m almost done. I’ll finish it at your place.”

His hand squeezed yours, and you hated how warm he made you feel. How the warmth spread from your chest to the the tips of your ears and feet. How even if you tried, he remained patient with you. You hated it because it made it so much harder, for you not to fall for him again and again. You hated it because you almost believed him that you could be one of those stupidly in love couples that held hands in their pockets and made each other scarfs.

Jungkook opened the car door for you, and you climbed inside, thankful for the few seconds you had to yourself as he loaded your shopping bag into the trunk. Without a word, he gave you his phone, and by now, you knew the drill. 

You unlocked his phone in second before quickly typing in your current location into Google maps. Your address popped up at the top, bookmarked, when you tapped to enter the destination. Handing him his phone back, you wondered what Jungkook’s password meant, 09052020. It seemed so oddly specific, but you didn’t bother asking.

“You should show me what you got.”

The water remained in your mouth a second longer before you swallowed it, slowly screwing the top back on the bottle, eyes set on Jungkook. You shook your head and leaned against your kitchen counter. He was just a few steps away from you, sitting on your couch, taking up all the space, arms spread left and right. 

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

He gave you a look, as if to say oh please! His head rolled back for a second.

“I think you should.”

You didn’t respond, pulling your phone out of your pocket instead. Deeming your silence as enough of an answer, you scrolled through your phone, opening the group chat between your friends and you, your feet crossing at your ankle. But before you could even read one text-

“But isn’t that why you were in a bad mood?”

It seemed brave of Jungkook to address it so openly. Or maybe just incredibly honest. You couldn’t do it. He didn’t seem afraid at all that you might just dip back into your bad mood at the mention of it and come out bats swinging. It was admirable in some ways. You didn’t rememeber him to be this confrontative a few months ago when you started this, him and you. He seemed to have found a confidence with you now, convinced he knew the ins and outs of you. Maybe he did. He probably did, in some ways. You couldn’t say if you liked it all that much.

You snorted, an attempt to make light of the situation. “Yeah, so why bring it up again?”

Jungkook reached his hands out to you, a gesture for you to come his way. You thought about it for a moment before abandoning both your phone and the water bottle on the kitchen counter and moving over. He scooted to the edge of your couch to allow you to step between his legs. His hands held yours, thumbs brushing the inner part of your wrist, back and forth.

“My parents don’t care,” he told you, staring up at you with his big eyes, squeezing your hands as he spoke, physically stressing his words. “They really don’t care, I promise you. They’re just excited to meet you. And so am I, excited.”

He paused, allowing his words to sink in with you and take effect. 

“But I know you care and you’re stressed about it,” Jungkook mumbled, and you couldn’t look at him, eyes finding the floor instead, right where your carpet curled up because sometimes your couch would dig into it and flip it up. It was so very embarrassing that he knew how much you cared. It felt like you were ripping out your heart and letting him inspect it. You wanted to correct him, set the record straight that really, you didn’t care at all whatsoever! but it felt like a cheap attempt, even more humiliating.

“So why don’t you show me?” he asked, shaking your hands to get you to look at him. You didn’t want to but did anyway. His gaze was soft, just like his smile, and his hair fell into his eyes. You brushed it away. It made his smile widen, so much so he brought your hand to his lips and kissed it.

It was sealed for you then.

“Alright, fine,” you sighed, defeated, moving away from him to dig through your shopping bags. “Look away.”

“What? Why?”

“What do you mean?” you frowned. “I’m changing.”

Jungkook’s features morphed from a frown to a smile in a second before he ultimately began laughing. “Are you really gonna be too embarrassed to change in front of me?” He gave you a moment to deny it. “I’ve seen and touched-”

“Oh my God, just turn around,” you hissed, and for some reason, your cheeks were as hot as the sun. “Either that, or I won’t try on anything.”

He exhaled the most dramatic sigh he could, making a point to show you that he even pressed his hands to his eyes. Just for that, you wanted to kick him. But you should have known that Jungkook wasn’t quite done, needing to squeeze in one more comment, purely to annoy you and nothing more. There wasn’t anything serious about it at all, no deeper meaning.

“Are you gonna be like this when we’re married with kids?”

You froze, arms up and your face mushed together by your sweater and half of your body exposed to the naked air with only your bra to show for. He wasn’t serious, you knew. There was lightness and an obvious teasing embedded with his words. You doubted Jungkook even expected a response from you, probably just enjoyed knowing he made you flustered even if he couldn’t see it. And yet, your heart began pounding and your hands sweating and your cheeks burning and your mind reeling for any possible retort you could offer. Before you could stutter something, he spoke again,

“Sorry.”

The smile was evident in his voice, and when you finally peeled off your sweater, you turned out to be right. You shook your head, throwing your sweater at him before you could think better of it. It hit him in the face.

“Ow, cabbage! That’s not fair, I have my eyes-” 

“I’m so close to kicking you out, you know?” you mumbled, keeping your voice quiet as if raising it by any means was dangerous. You pulled off your pants and your stockings you had layered underneath for some extra warmth.

“I said I’m sorry, cabbage.” 

But Jungkook sounded far from sincere. You didn’t bother responding, grabbing one of the shopping bags and slipping on the sweater you had thrifted. It was off the shoulders and this warm midnight blue colour, rich and beautiful and cozy. You moved to your old dresser and pulled out the black maxi skirt you had thought to combine it with. The outfit was simple, but with the right accesoires (ones you would still have to buy which the thought of it already gave you a headache), it could work. At least, it could in theory because when you looked at yourself in your full body mirror (which you had thrifted when you had first moved in), you frowned.

“Can I look?”

You gave a grunt in response, still looking at your reflection as if you had put together the most hideous outfit possible. It wasn’t much of a yes or no, so for a few seconds Jungkook hesitated, but he slowly peeled his eyes open.

“Oh, cabbage! You look so amazing-”

“No.”

It was as simple as that for you, shaking your head.

“What? But you look-”

“I don’t like it,” you said, already moving to take off the skirt. “Close your eyes.”

You expected some sort of protest from Jungkook, but he actually did as you said. Just as quick as you had decided that the outfit wouldn’t work, you peeled it off of you. You rummaged through your next shopping bags, looking at the pieces you had gotten—a cream knit sweater and white maxi skirt. But all of a sudden, you hated it. You clearly remembered loving the clothes in the store, giving the outfit a couple spins and scrutiniscing it from head to toe until it was deemed worthy of your money. But right now as you looked at it, you felt quite the opposite.

With a sigh, you pulled the last shopping bag towards you. It had the dress your friends had mentioned you should wear. This time, you didn’t inspect it any further, not having the nerve for it. So you just bunched up the fabric and slipped it on. But you didn’t tell Jungkook you were finished changing. Instead you turned and looked at yourself in the mirror first.

Jisoo had found it for you—a maxi slip dress. It was in a beautiful and rich wine red colour, oozing warmth, and soft to the touch. The satin flowed down your body, hugging your curves, and reflecting your dim living room lights like water. Lace was stitched along the neckline, which otherwise probably would have been a little too low given the occasion. The straps securing the dress were tied up into small ribbons around your shoulders, giving it a more dainty and playful look. The slit on the left side reached up until your knee, allowing the fabric to move along with your body in harmony. It was a beautiful dress, made for any occasion with the correct accessoires and styling. 

You were objectively and undeniably beautiful in it. 

And yet, you stared at yourself as if it wasn’t, brows knitted together and lips pursed in a pout, eyes wandering up and down. It wasn’t insecurity—you felt great and comfortable in the dress. But something about it just wasn’t right. You tried imaging yourself all dolled up in it, hair and makeup done to your liking, but the frown remained. It wasn’t perfect enough.

You shook your head, moving to take it off. When you turned on your heel, you looked straight at Jungkook, and Jungkook looked straight at you. His eyes were big and wide and set on you, his mouth agape and curling up into a smile. You gasped, both in surprise and upset.

“W-why are you looking?” you hissed, feeling the heat crawl up your neck, and you threw your arms around yourself.

“I’m sorry. You- you just took so long, cabbage. And so I looked and…” Jungkook finished his sentence with a simple shrug and smile. You frowned at his answer, shaking your head.

“Close your eyes,” you spat through gritted teeth, turning around to change out of the dress. “I’m changing-”

“What? Why?” Jungkook sounded genuinely confused, jumping up from his seat and moving your way, shaking his head. “You look amazing! Please don’t change. I love this dress on you!”

He stopped short in front of you, turning you around and taking your hands into his. 

“This dress suits you so well,” he whispered as if it was some sort of secret. You looked to the mirror behind you, inspected yourself, eyes shooting up and down. Jungkook stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, his fingers interlacing in front of the soft of your belly. He pushed you to lean fully against him, his eyes scanning every inch of you.

“You’re so pretty. So very pretty.” 

His words tasted like Christmas chocolate, were thick with honey and sugar, stuck to your teeth. They were bad. Horrible. For you and your heart. Because they sounded so very believable. 

“You look incredible.”

He finished with a kiss to the back of your head, and you didn’t know where to look. You placed your hands on his, tentatively, and he was quick to take them into his, scoop them up and hold them tight. He had to know, you thought to yourself, how hard your heart was beating.

“Don’t you like it?”

You met his gaze in the mirror, mouth settled into a line. 

“I like the dress,” you said, tilting your head. 

“But?”

“I don’t like it for…”

“Meeting my parents?” Jungkook supplied when you wouldn’t finish your sentence, and you didn’t answer, averting your gaze instead. “What do you not like about it?”

You closed your eyes, feeling so very silly. Because you couldn’t say. You didn’t know. There shouldn’t be anything to dislike about the dress, nothing about it was wrong—you loved every little detail, and even more how you felt in it.

“What do you think?” 

“I don’t think my opinion really matters here,” Jungkook laughed, and you peeled your eyes open, a smile tugging on the corners of your lips. He was annoying. Just couldn’t provide you with a simple answer when he even has already voiced his thoughts. “But I think you look really pretty in this dress.”

You scrunched your nose. “How pretty?”

“So pretty I wouldn’t mind going blind now.”

You smiled, no, grinned. He was so stupid.

“So pretty I can’t believe you don’t like it.” 

You tilted your head to the side.

“So pretty I don’t want you to ever take it off again.” 

He pressed kisses to your neck and shoulder, nose burying into your hair, words mumbled into your skin, and hands beginning to wander further south, scrunching the fabric. You let him.

”So pretty I want to take a picture of you and print it out and hang it up above my bed and also keep another one in my wallet and change my background picture to-”

“O-okay, enough!” you said, pushing him away from you because your limbs were beginning to tingle and burn, and his touch was sending shocks through your entire body. Even more so, his hands were beginning to go to places he shouldn’t, not right now at least. You made sure to keep him at an arm’s length, palm pressing into his chest, in fear he’d simply close the distance if you didn’t physically stop him.

“You’re so ridiculous, Jeon,” you said, shaking your head, laughing a little. “You can never be serious, can you?”

“But I am! I’m very serious! Looking at you makes me wanna-”

You were quick to shake your head, hands pressing to your ears because no no no, you didn’t want to know! All while you were smiling, grinning almost. Without realising it, Jungkook had done the impossible—lifted your mood, made you laugh when you felt irritated and annoyed by everything before. 

“Fine, I won’t tell you!” Jungkook sighed, dramatically rolling his eyes. You looked at him, lowering your hands, your smile cemented on your lips.

“You’re so stupid, Jeon,” you mumbled, scrunching your nose, and he gasped in faux upset.

“That’s so mean, cabbage!”

“Oh, just shut up.”

Jungkook slung his arms around your middle, doing so before you could even think to stop him. His chin dropped to your shoulder, hands scopping up yours again and eyes meeting in the mirror.

“So, what do we think?”

You raised a brow. “Now, it’s we? I thought your thoughts didn’t matter-”

He sighed, closing his eyes for a second. “Fine, what do you think?”

And you inspected yourself again, gaze wandering up and down. You didn’t know what it was, but the dress seemed different now. It was still the same fabric, same cut, nothing had changed, but you remembered why you had bought the dress, why you had taken Jisoo up on her offer to try it on when she had shown it to you. Because it was beautiful, even more so with you in it.

“Is this the dress?” Jungkook whispered into your ear, and you knew he was hoping for a yes. 

You tilted your head to the side, heart beating faster when you opened your mouth. Because yes, it was. The dress, choosing it, it was another step closer to meeting Jungkook’s parents, another hurdle out of the way. Your eyes met his in the mirror, his face so close to yours. The two of you standing there together, you almost could convince yourself you were an actual couple.

“Yeah, it is.”

He beamed, tightening his arms around you, letting out a small sigh of relief. “Okay, good, I’m glad.”

You lowered your gaze, and you wondered if he maybe feared you wouldn’t go because you couldn’t find anything to wear. If maybe that was the reason for why he came so quickly because he didn’t want you to use that excuse. Because otherwise he would have to explain to his precious and perfect parents why his girlfriend refused to meet them-

“How does the 22nd sound to you by the way?” Jungkook asked, pulling you out of your trains of thoughts, almost as if he knew. He mumbled the words into your skin, and you felt every move of his lips. “To meet my parents, I mean.”

Just eight days.

“Y-yeah, that… should work,” you returned, breathless and high pitched, eyes finding the floor. He stared at you in the reflection, nudging you to do the same. You hesitated, but did as he said, breath hitching in your throat when you saw the way he was looking at you, oh so sincere and genuine.

“It’s gonna be fine.”

There was something assuring about the way he said it. If anyone elses told you these words, it would do you no good, bring you no relief. But when he did, it did. It was silly really.

“I promise you.”

“Yeah, really, Jeon?” you laughed shallowly, tucking a strand behind your ear and swallowing. “You promise me?”

And as if looking at your mere reflection just wasn’t enough for him, Jungkook turned you around by your hips, forcing your eyes to meet his. 

“I promises you, cabbage. I won’t leave you for one second, alright? Hell, I will drive you there and home again, okay? I’ll be there with you for every second of the day, from the moment you wake up to the moment you go back to bed, glued to your side, so much so you’ll be so annoyed by me that you’ll want me gone. You won’t even go the bathroom on your own, okay?” He paused for a second, scrunching his nose. “I’ll make sure you will have the most non awkward but perfect and fun evening possible.”

His phrasing made you laugh, ebbed the waves of anxiety crashing onto your mind over and over again when you thought a little too much about the next week. His parents, him and you, in one room. 

“It’s gonna be great.”

Jungkook smiled at you, a little too bright and too wide. You returned it to the best of your abilities, letting him pull you back into a hug, eyes falling shut.

“Okay, I believe you,” you told him, hearing his heart beating in his chest. “For once.”

He tightened his arms around you.

(“Do you think it will have snowed by then?” he asked you when the intro to the new episode of Avatar began playing on his laptop. You looked up, eyes catching his, your head rested against his chest and his arms around you.

“What?”

“By the 22nd I mean. Do you think it will have snowed by then?”

You frowned, thinking of the last few winters. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

He thought about your answer for a few more seconds, looking off to the side before returning your gaze. “I hope. I’d like to spend a proper white Christmas with you.”

“Pray to the Gods then,” you said. “Chances aren’t so good.”

The past few years it had always only snowed in January.

“Oh, I do, every day,” Jungkook laughed, and you hummed, focusing back on the episode and missing the way his gaze softened at your sight.)

“Okay, so I’ll be back right before New Year,” Chaeyoung said, giving her calendar one last look before snapping it close again. “Who of us is gonna be here?”

Hoseok and you both let out affirmative noises, and Jimin raised his hand in a yes as well, mouth stuffed with his sandwich. You scooted closer to the table to let a guy squeeze through as he made his way to the lunch table with his friends, a tray full of bland and dry cafeteria food.

“I’m not sure yet,” Jisoo said, taking a handful of grapes from her purple grape shaped lunch box and plopping each one into her mouth. “My sister asked if I wanted to celebrate New Year’s with her. But maybe she’ll go over to her girlfriend’s. She isn’t sure yet. I’ll text you guys?”

“I’ll be here the entire holidays,” Namjoon sighed. “I still have finals.”

“Ah, I’m sorry,” you said, offering him a smile. He waved you off, mumbling something about how at least he was almost finished up with it all. 

“Well, at least we will be spending New Year’s together, right?” Jimin said with a smile.

You took a sip from your green tea, needing warmth because your University never turned on the heaters, preferring their students to freeze. Where did your tuition money go? 

“Okay, but how about Christmas eve for everyone else? When are you guys heading back home again?” Hoseok asked, shovelling his protein oatmeal into his mouth. “You’re going tonight, right, Ji? With Jennie?”

“Yeah, our train’s booked for 8 pm.”

“I’ll go on the 23rd,” Jimin said, and Chaeyoung echoed the same. 

“You’re going tomorrow, right?” she asked Hoseok, and he nodded. “When are you meeting Kook’s parents again, Y/N? The 22nd?”

“Yeah.” You played with the lip of your paper cup, feeling the warmth of your tea. Your heart grew a little heavier, scared one of them would ask when you’d go meet your parents. Because you weren’t, at least not on Christmas eve. Both of them had to work, unable to take a day off. It was an irrational fear, you were aware. Because your friends knew that very well. They’d never ask, but your heart didn’t understand.

“That’s- oh my God, that’s in four days, huh?” Jisoo gasped, and the horror and terror gripping you must have reflected on your face because she was quick to interject. “Oh, sorry. No, it’s gonna be great, Y/N. I don’t know why I said that. That was stupid.”

“You’re still anxious about it, huh?” Hoseok mumbled, and though he worded it like a question, all of you knew the answer.

“Hard not to be,” you said, voice a little short and curt. “It comes in… waves.”

Namjoon patted your shoulder. “It’s gonna be fine.”

Chaeyoung reached for your hand, squeezing it. “Yeah, I’m sure. We’re all gonna be there for you if it does somehow go wrong—which I highly, highly doubt might I add.”

“Well, not Jisoo. She’s gonna be home, busy showing off her Jennie,” you joked, trying to make light of the situation but it sounded just slightly off.

“What? I can’t be there for you from home?” Jisoo gasped, and before you could question how she’d do that, she continued. “I’m there for you too, telepathically! Jennie too! In your heart! Always! Over the phone! Don’t doubt us!”

You laughed a little, mouthing an apology.

“But you definitely won’t need us,” Jimin said. “Because it’s gonna be fine. Especially because Kook’s gonna make sure of it, okay?”

Before you could return something, your eyes were drawn to the doors.

Oh.

Your friends followed your gaze.

Jungkook had his backpack strapped to his shoulder and the red scarf wrapped around his neck. It shouldn’t be possible. You were technically too far for you to properly see, but you saw it—the tension in his shoulders, the strain in his nape, the deep knit between his brows. He was…. annoyed. It was new to you. For a moment, you almost expected to find Narae walking behind him, bugging him, hot on his trail. It would explain it to you, and you would just simply walk over there and pull him to your table. Just like that, you would ease the knit between your brows, take the tension out of his shoulders and neck-

But it wasn’t Narae. 

It was Taehyung. 

He said something to Jungkook that made him roll his eyes. Jungkook didn’t seem to want to respond, shaking his head and waving his hand around, an attempt to end the conversation. But Taehyung wasn’t so kind, going on, even taking hold of his shoulder.

“Someone is in a mood,” Namjoon mumbled, cringing.

“What are they talking about, Y/N?” Jimin asked, looking at you, and you stared right back at him, frowning.

“How would I know?”

“You’re his girlfriend.”

“So?”

“Go find out.”

“What? I just walk up to them and say,” you raised your voice a few pitches, “‘Oh my God, hi, you guys are clearly fighting. Care to share?’ Is that what you want?”

Jimin blinked, shrugging. “Sure, that would work.”

“You’re so ridiculous, Jimin,” you hissed, touching a hand to your forehead. “That wouldn’t work.”

“Of course, it would. Kook’s absolutely obsessed-”

“Oh my God, shut up,” Chaeyoung hissed, slapping Jimin. “They’re looking!”

“You guys are always so loud,” Hoseok sighed, and you sent him a glare because no, you don’t! It’s just Jimin!

But they were right. Taehyung and Jungkook were both looking at you, their conversation having come to an end. When you met his gaze, Jungkook’s face contorted into something else, features twitching. You couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but it wasn’t the usual. He didn’t soften in the way you were used to when he would see you. And when you tried a smile, Jungkook struggled to return it. You felt shot, and your smile faltered.

But Jimin didn’t sense it at all, wildly waving his hand around, gesturing for the two to come this way. And as if it wasn’t more obvious, he yelled it too, “Hey, Tae and Kook! Come join us!”

Jisoo sighed, “He’s such an idiot.”

Chaeyoung and Hoseok shrugged, as if to say well, it’s Jimin. They were right, it was just Jimin being himself, unaware and impulsive. Namjoon didn’t have any words, shaking his head. 

Jungkook and Taehyung looked at each other, exchanging a few words before the latter glanced at his watch and shook his head. He had to go. Taehyung placed his hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, whispering something into his ear. You must have imagined it but it looked like he glanced in your direction. But before you could think about it, Taehyung headed in the same direction he had previously come from, and Jungkook slowly made his way over, not meeting your eyes once.

“What were you arguing about?” Jimin asked when Jungkook stood in front of you, and you watched him grip the strap of his backpack, the skin over his knuckles stretching thin.

“Jimin!” Jisoo hissed, punching him. 

“Ow!”

“Right, yeah, of course, you’d ask,” he smiled. “It’s fine.”

Jungkook said it with a laugh, but it was all wrong. 

“We weren’t arguing.” 

And as if it wasn’t enough, Jungkook put on his brightest and biggest smile. He showed it to everyone. Like a stone plunged into the deep sea, your heart sank. You had seen it before, that smile. It had decorated his lips during the Halloween party when you first walked in, or when you had first hurt his feelings while you had gone costume shopping. 

Namjoon and you looked at each other shortly, both of you sensing it. 

“Is everything-”

“Well, it looked like you were,” Jimin mumbled, accidentally interrupting Namjoon. He waited for Jungkook to budge and cave under his gaze, but when he wouldn’t, he shrugged. “Come sit.”

Maybe he could feel your burning gaze on him, but Jungkook finally glanced in your direction. If only for a second, so very brief. But it dug into your heart and split it open, gutted you and left you utterly empty. You had seen him just yesterday, picked out your dress together, parted ways this morning a few hours ago, and now he seemed like another person. He looked so sad, sad in a way you hadn’t seen before. You didn’t think that any emotion close to that had ever crossed his features, not in your presence at least. It was so new and surprising to you—because somehow in your mind, you had forgotten he had the ability to feel… upset—you froze.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” Jungkook said, nailing that same smile back onto his lips as before. “But I’ll see you guys around.”

And before any of you could protest, he was gone, back turned to your table and heading into the crowd. 

“Well, that was… weird,” Chaeyoung said, pointing out the elephant in the room. And as if she had said your name, everyone turned to you for some kind of answer.

You blinked back at them. “Yeah, I-I don’t know.”

There was another beat of silence before ultimately your friends shrugged.

“Maybe it’s just not a good day?” Hoseok proposed, and they were all quick to agree, moving on. And though you didn’t voice it, you knew it wasn’t that. It couldn’t just be that. 

You knew it was about you. It had to be. Taehyung had glanced at your direction. You hadn’t imagined it, that much you were sure of. And the fact Jungkook hadn’t been able to look at you cemented it for you. Your heart quickened, a certain question coming to the front of your mind.

What if Jungkook didn’t want you to meet his parents anymore?

Maybe it had finally clicked with him—what it meant if you met his parents. How ridiculous it was. Because you weren’t his girlfriend. It was his parents after all. How stupid all of it was actually. Not just you meeting his parents, but the entire contract you had. How far it had gone, too far.

You pressed your lips together, a knot forming in your throat. Maybe he didn’t know how to tell you now. Maybe you should be prepared for the very worst. Maybe this was it. Impact incoming! The fall was nearing its end, your end.

Your hands began shaking, curling around the edge of the table for stability. Panic built up within you, panic that really shouldn’t build up at all, you knew. Your friends blurred into an incohesive mess in front of you.

Oh God.

You didn’t see Jungkook for the rest of the day, or the one after that. In fact, you didn’t hear from him at all, until almost two days later. Maybe you should have reached out first—you did think about it. But you simply couldn’t, your hands shaking whenever you’d open your chat with him, your old messages staring back at you almost mockingly. Because what if he told you he wanted to end it? What if this was how it would end because you couldn’t wait and recklessly send a message?

There was a few seconds of silence, the sound of his breathing coming in through unsteadily. You gripped your phone tighter.

“Hey.”

Jungkook still sounded the same, and for some reason, you were surprised. Why you expected him to sound different, you didn’t know. 

“Hi,” you returned, swallowing because it was your voice, in fact, that sounded odd. At least it did to you. You cleared your throat.

Usually, he’d make some joke, ask you about your day, how you were doing, where you were, if you had watched the videos he’d sent you yet, eaten already. Usually, your conversation would be much lighter, easier. Right now, you felt the air hanging between you, pulling your legs closer to your chest as you waited and waited. He had called you, he would have to speak first.

“I’m sorry I didn’t join you guys for lunch the other day,” Jungkook mumbled, and you closed your eyes.

“It’s alright,” you said, a waver to your voice and you couldn’t decide if it was because you felt cold, even though you were tucked into your bed, or because you felt uncertain of it all, like you were standing at the edge of a cliff, the deep sea awaiting you on the other side, waves crashing up on you. 

Neither of you said anything. 

Your throat grew dry, the questions coming back up again within you. Was he going to tell you over the phone? That he didn’t want you to meet his parents anymore. Maybe even that he wanted to call this entire thing off. That he’d realised this wasn’t worth it anymore, doing all of this to win a stupid bet he’d made with Taehyung months ago. It had gotten too exhausting, you had gotten too exhausting for him. Let’s just end it here, tell everyone you’d just fallen out of love. Hell maybe he’d be even willing to tell everyone the truth, how they’d been fooled. It had all been an act! How fun! How could you all think he was in love with-

“Everything’s alright.”

You paused. “What?”

“I-” Jungkook faltered, letting out a laugh. It came through oh so light and clear. Just not quite genuine. Or maybe you were imagining it, your mind dissecting every of his words. “I’m just trying to say- things are alright. It’s gonna be okay.”

And for some reason, you knew the words weren’t meant to reassure you. But him. He needed it right now, more than you. You blinked, nodded as if he could see.

“Yeah, everything’s alright,” you repeated, quietly. “It’s gonna be okay.”

What exactly he referred to, you weren’t sure. And you weren’t going to ask. He’d tell you when he wanted you to know, when he was ready. Truth be told, you weren’t even entirely sure if you were ready for it, couldn’t say either where your confidence that it’d be alright came from. 

“It will, right?” he laughed again, that same laugh. It came through now, the tinge of uncertainty swinging with his voice. 

You added a small smile, reassurance. “Of course, it will. Always has.”

Jungkook waited a beat, thought about it for a second. “Yeah, no, yeah you’re right.”

And then, you both went back to silence again. You were the one to break it, doing so before you could think better of it and retreat. The question slipped so quickly past your lips, came out of you with the answer to it packaged within already. For once, you dared something, held out your heart.

“Do you want to come over?”

The question seemed alright at first. He’d tell you he was already on his way, in fact. Had you not heard the engine this entire time? Actually, look outside! How silly of you, he had gotten you again. You’d laugh, buzz him up while telling him how annoying he was. He’d fall into your arms, coat and scarf and shoes still on. There’d be no time for you to tell him to at least take off his shoes because he’d knock you over with his entire weight. But you’d hold him up, if not barely and struggling heavily. You’d do it, and you’d do it with a smile. He’d press a kiss to your lips and ask you again if things would just be fine. And you’d do the same as you did on the phone, like a good girlfriend does, you’d reassure him over and over again until you’d be too tired and fall asleep together. Things would truly be alright, you’d meet his parents and maybe resolve it all. Maybe he and you could be something, more. Maybe he meant it, all of it, the gestures and words and kisses. He and you, together, it could be possible-

“I’m sorry—” You wanted him to stop then. He didn’t need to elaborate. It was enough. You bit down on your tongue, hard. “I’m… just really tired today.”

Jungkook hesitated, spoke slowly, and you wanted to laugh it off, tell him it was alright and to go to sleep, but your throat knotted into a terrible mess. 

He didn’t want you to meet his parents.

“Hm.”

It was the only response you could offer. Because if you spoke, he would know, and he couldn’t know—the tears that shot into your eyes.

You pressed your hand to your mouth, and wondered if your reassurance had done anything at all. If not actually you had needed it, even more than he did. 

“I think- classes was exhausting, so yeah. You know, right? So I’m gonna go to bed now,” Jungkook said, and you nodded, as if he could see you, and if you checked, you’d realise it was just eight. You bit your tongue harder.

He never liked you.

“Okay,” you squeaked out, your voice a few pitches too high. He had to know, you were sure of it. Anyone would know, even a drunk Jimin could figure it out. It was blatantly obvious, and you pressed your hand harder against your mouth, scared as you awaited what he’d say. You wouldn’t know how to answer his questions if he asked you why you cried. It would be utterly humiliating to admit why—that you knew you never meant anything to him beyond what you’d agreed upon, but that he did to you. So much, in fact. 

“Goodnight-”

You ended the call, your phone displayed his name for a few more seconds before you tossed it aside, uncaring that it bounced off your bed and you’d have to look for it later on the floor. A part of you wanted to laugh, outright laugh out loud, laugh so loud because maybe it would drown it out. Because were you not just silly? Stupid? Even more so for the tears that rolled down your face and stained your duvet three shades darker. Clear evidence of your silliness, your delusion, your unwavering and foolish hope. 

It embarrassed and humiliated you, how quickly the tears came, how his words had crashed onto you, ship-wrecked you, buried you under. His words hurt, and his dismissal even more. Two words had been enough, had pierced your heart and left you tiptoeing a cliff. Jungkook had more power than you thought he did, power he shouldn’t be holding over your head and heart to begin with. Power he shouldn’t have because you didn’t have it over him.

A text awaited you one morning, just a day before the 22nd.

[Jeon - 07:01 AM] : can i come over later tonight?

And a text was all it took.

Jungkook was not even a second late. Someone was in a hurry to get this over with, it almost made you laugh. Your doorbell rang the moment the clock turned seven. Still, you shrieked, hesitated, stared at your front door like you hadn’t known he’d come, like you hadn’t expected him to come.

You busied yourself with your phone, swiping back and forth, as he climbed up the stairs, your back turned to the door. You just couldn’t watch as he stepped inside. This was it. He’d tell you that he’d realised this had gotten too far, out of hand. You wouldn’t have to meet his parents tomorrow, you had done your part. He’d thank you, assure you he’d break the news to your friends and take the blame. It’d be alright, you wouldn’t have to do anything. And just like before you had ever talked to Jungkook at the vending machine, you’d go your own ways. 

His steps grew louder, echoed less and less until he was inside. A draft pulled through your small flat as he shut the door behind you, quiet but final. You shivered and turned off your phone, heart heavy in your chest as you prepared yourself to turn around and face him. You had thought about it all day, agonised how it’d be like to see him again the past week, how you’d handle this, how you could retain just a bit of your pride at the end of this. The scenario played over and over again in your mind—you’d look at him with a smile, tell him you understood perfectly and he didn’t need to explain. It had been stupid anyway, fun but stupid. Both of you knew this wasn’t anything really, it would come to an end. You didn’t mind it at all. 

“You know, it’s alright, Jeon. I know what you wanna-”

Jungkook wrapped his arms around you with his coat and scarf and shoes on. He pressed you to his chest, held you even tighter when you hesitated to return his hug, as if he needed to physically feel you, be sure you were there.

You hadn’t seen him all week, and all of a sudden, you didn’t know what to do around him anymore.

“Jeon?” 

“Can you hug me?” he asked you, voice barely above a whisper, and though you had been so sure about what would happen just seconds ago, pictured how your conversation would go, you realised you knew nothing at all. You did as he said, putting your arms around his middle and squeezing as tightly as you could, holding your breath even.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like this, but when you pulled away, Jungkook looked at you in a way you had never seen. He took your hands into his.

“I’m sorry, cabbage,” he began, and in the dim light, you could see his eyes glaze over. “I don’t know what’s been going on with me for the past week.”

He paused, breathed in deeply, looked to the side before returning his gaze to you. 

“I think- there’s just been a lot on my mind, and I had to figure it out first, I think,” he continued. “I-I don’t think I fully have, but I will, soon.”

You looked at him, silent for a few seconds before you nodded, brushing your thumbs over the inside of his wrists.

“That’s okay,” you told him, giving him a smile. “It’s fine. I understand.”

Truth be told, you didn’t know where you took your words from, where you dug up that reassurance again. Because you’d felt the opposite for the past week. It’d been a horrible week for you, sleepless and anxious. 

You’d been tiptoeing a thin line, wondering every second when exactly this would blow over, just how close you were to impact, when your fall would end. Would it be a text? A call? Would he just show up to your doorstep unannounced one evening after you had come back from exhausting classes and do it then? Or would it be Jimin who’d relayed the messages? Would he not tell you at all, deeming not worth the effort even? So, it had been nice to be told the truth—that things had been confusing for Jungkook and he hadn’t figured out how to navigate it all—and yet you weren’t sure if it was enough for you, if it qualmed your worries.

“I’m really sorry, cabbage,” Jungkook repeated, and you wondered what he was so sorry for that he needed to apologise twice. If maybe you were right. Why else would he feel so apologetic? Was the ending coming and he just needed some more time to figure out the order of his words, unable to bring it over his heart? 

You should ask him if the things plaguing his mind was how to end this. You should, really. Regardless of the answer, it would free you, however painful it might just be. You’d find peace. Maybe you feared the pain too much, the tears that would run down your face, the embarrassment that would rip you into pieces, or maybe you didn’t care enough for yourself to find out the truth, but you didn’t ask. 

Your smile grew bigger, and you didn’t know who you were fooling, him or you. “Don’t be. It’s okay, Jeon.”

Jungkook took your face into his hands, staring into your eyes, looking so intensely at you like he’d never before. He was searching something, and you weren’t sure if he found it, if you held whatever he looked for at all.

“It’ll be fine,” you said, and this was for you, not him. 

“It’ll be fine,” he repeated, nodding, and as he leaned closer to you, you wondered if the same would apply tomorrow. When you’d meet his parents, stand in front of them. When they’d scrutinise every little detail about you and come to their conclusion on who you were before you could even open your mouth and utter your name. 

You let Jungkook pull you into a kiss, returned it with the same intensity. Both of you needed it right now. What exactly you offered each other, you couldn’t pinpoint. But it was enough to silence your mind and his too. 

When his hands wandered, so did yours. He pushed you to your bed, and you let your mattress catch your fall. Your sweater landed on your floor, and soon the rest of your clothes followed. His coat and the scarf you had made him found its place at the foot of your bed. He struggled for a bit to kick off his boots before ultimately stumbling out of them.

Jungkook pressed kisses from your lips to your ear down to your neck and collarbone. Slowly, they wandered further down and down, stopping as he paid extra attention to the places he learned you liked, made your back arch in his favourite way and your breath hitch so beautifully in your throat. Soon, you were pleading with the Gods above, curling your hands around your duvet as Jungkook familiarised himself with you again. His hands pried you open, splitting you into two again and again, bringing you high above. You returned the favour, listened as he found religion through you, drawing out his relief until he needed your lips on his instead. By now, you knew him blindly, your hands finding the sensitive parts of him even as he carved his way back to yours.

“I’ve missed you,” Jungkook mumbled into your ear when he began moving, and you smiled, wrapped your arms around him. So had you. 

“Me too,” you returned, your hips finding a steady rhythm together. He pressed kisses to your skin, hands holding you oh so tightly like he usually would. But he hadn’t said it, hadn’t told you for the entire week, not even now when he would on any other day—that he loved you—and so maybe that was why you fell asleep with an uneasy heart. 

Had he not promised? That he’d be there for every second of the day, from the moment you woke up to the moment you went back to bed, glued to your side until you were sick of him? Was that not what he had said, the words he assured you with? So how was it that you awoke alone, like you had been for the entire past week, without him?

Jungkook wasn’t here, and yet you looked around your home like he could be hidden in some corner. He didn’t like you anymore, you were sure. Why would he? He never did to begin with. Probably regretted this more than anything else, realised just how exhausting it was to be with you. It wouldn’t be worth it. His parents wouldn’t like you, tell him that he could do better. He’d agree- actually he knew that already. Yesterday night had been a mistake, just like all the other times had been. He and you weren’t the same, never could be. Just like two mismatching puzzle pieces, you’d never make a whole picture together. You’d been right, of course. Jungkook could never like you, never saw you as anything more than a paw in this stupid cruel game between Taehyung and you. And you had been played, over and over again. How stupid of you. Foolish! This-

The blaring of your alarm brought you back to reality, the sound filling your ears. You had forgotten to turn it off. You reached for your phone, shutting it off but before you could toss it aside, you saw it. It made you pause, his name atop of your notifications. A voice memo, just over two minutes. Like it had been all you had been looking for, you hurriedly unlocked your phone. You were about to hit start, when you paused, your thumb hovering just above it. Because it could be anything—a simple breakfast run, or a goodbye. A pit grew in your stomach, and you wished he had just left you a clue about what he’d be saying in it. Your chest webbed tightly with anxiety, a rollercoaster in your throat.

You took in a deep breath, bracing yourself, eyes closed as you hit play. Whatever it might be, you’d be fine, somehow, you hoped.

“Hey, I’m so sorry—” Your chest felt so hollow, his voice unsteady. He was running, the wind blowing up the audio. He sounded far away, you had to strain to hear him properly, your phone on maximum volume. “—I know I promised to be there when you’d wake up, but—”

But I just couldn’t do this any longer. I wanted to tell you yesterday, but I just didn’t know how to. I’m sorry.

“—my mom called me. She’s having an emergency with her car, and now she’s stuck in- actually, I don’t know where, but I’m on my way there to jumpstart her car. And I thought about waking you up for it, but that felt mean and you looked so peaceful, I just couldn’t. But- it’s so cold, oh my God. Listen, I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I’m gonna hurry, okay? So just wait for me, alright? I’ll be there, I promise.”

You heard the door of his car open and close. The wind cut out, and all of a sudden it was quiet. There was ruffling, Jungkook took his phone closer to his face. He sighed, and you could see him right in front of your eyes—sitting there in his car, hair a mess on his head, as he closed his eyes to find his words, a knit between his brows.

“I’m really sorry, cabbage,” he began again. “Both for leaving now because I know I had promised I’d be there, and… again for the past week. I know I’ve been shit, and I know you’ve been confused and- I’m sorry. I haven’t been fair at all-”

Neither had you however, you realised as you listened to him talk. Of course, Jungkook had only left because his mother needed his help. How could you assume the worst of him after everything? When he was so good and kind? Had been all this time to you?

“But we will figure this out, okay?”

Jungkook paused again. You pulled your legs to your chest, burying your face into your knees, teeth sinking into your tongue.

“Let’s talk about this after today. But it’s gonna be fine. Like you said it would.”

You had lied.

“What am I talking about?” He let out a small laugh, and you knew he was shaking his head at himself. “It’s already fine.” 

You felt like a traitor. You were terrible.

“I’ll be back to pick you up, okay? So just wait for me. I hope I can get to you by two the latest. I hope it won’t take too long to figure it all out. You know, I actually don’t know how to jumpstart a car, so I really don’t know why my mom called me.”

He laughed again, and you didn’t think you could ever get the sound out of your mind. It was so pretty and melodic, so good and precious. 

“Well, anyway, I gotta get going, but I can’t wait for tonight already. I miss you.”

You missed him too, loved him even. Did he? Could he? Could you?

It was cowardly of you, hypocritical actually. But you couldn’t do it differently, didn’t have the courage to look at Jungkook and say it. The words wouldn’t leave you, you were certain, if you stood in front of him. He deserved more than a text, but more than that he deserved the truth. And the truth was you couldn’t do this, any of it in fact, not anymore. Couldn’t meet his parents, or even pretend to be his girlfriend any longer, not in good conscience. It had to end.

Your thumbs shook as you slowly found the right letters, strung together the words and sentences. You hit delete every other word, barely getting a paragraph together in almost an hour. Because worst of all, even as you tried to offer some honesty, you knew you couldn’t offer it entirely to him, couldn’t let Jungkook know just how exactly you felt, how deeply you had plunged into love with him. 

I’m sorry, Jeon, but I don’t think I can keep this going any longer. I know I said I’d meet your parents, but I think we’re just going a little too far by doing that. I hope you understand. I know I’m not fulfilling our contract and you’ll lose your bet with Taehyung and I’m really sorry, so I’ll just wire back all the money. I never touched it anyway. 

You were about to finish off the paragraph, deciding that any wishes for your future relationship as friends would be too much to ask for, thumb sliding over the glass, when your phone lit up, buzzing and ringing. And right just then, you accepted the call, your heart dropping in your chest. Your stomach twisted terribly because you couldn’t do this. How could you? Hear his voice, talk to him as if you weren’t just about to call this entire thing off over text? How could you pretend it was all fine when you’d felt gutted for the entire week?

“Hey,” Jungkook greeted you, oh so unaware. You could hear the harsh wind coming through the speaker. “I’m sorry—”

You wished he’d stop apologising. If he just knew what you’d been thinking of him for the past few days, all the assumptions you had made about him and his character, his parents too. 

“—but looks like I won’t make it by two.”

There was a sigh, and you let the silence usher Jungkook to keep on speaking, knowing your voice would merely betray you.

“I tried to jumpstart the car, but yeah, it didn’t work out. We called some people now and seems like we’re gonna have to have the car towed and fixed at the shop.”

The frustration bled through in Jungkook’s voice. It was obvious. He had spent all morning trying desperately to fix his mom’s car in the freezing cold, and now it had come to this.

“We called my dad. He’s on his way here because I still need to go back to my parents and take a shower. It’s gonna take some time—the drive to my parents, the shower and then the drive to your place—so I definitely won’t make it by two. But I should be at your place by three the latest though, I hope that’s fine?”

You closed your eyes, wondered just what exactly you were supposed to say. And so, for a while you didn’t as you gathered yourself.

“Cabbage? Are you there? Can you hear-”

“Y-yeah.” You chewed on your lip, took a few more seconds before speaking. “You… don’t have to come-”

“What? No, I promised you I’d drive you. Let me at least do that,” Jungkook insisted, and you hoped he’d just understand. How direct did you have to be? 

“It’s fine, you don’t have to,” you tried, but to no avail.

He snorted. “Cabbage, I’m driving you. No matter what. My dad’s almost here. You won’t have to wait long. I’ll probably be at your place before three actually. I shower quickly!”

You pressed your hands to your eyes until dark spots appeared, shaking your head. Why couldn’t he just understand? 

A lump knotted your throat shut, your voice wavering as you began speaking, “I-I think we should just-”

“Ah, my dad’s here! I gotta go, cabbage. But please just wait, I’ll be there soon, okay? Can’t wait to see you! It’s gonna be great. You’re gonna charm their asses off, okay?”

And before you could even protest, confess to Jungkook that you couldn’t do any of this, he had hung up. You stared as your phone displayed your lockscreen before ultimately turning black, leaving you with your reflection.

You caught yourself in your mirror, realising how puffy your eyes were. It was blatantly obvious you had cried. You were a mess, in no state to meet anyone’s parents, no less Jungkook’s perfect parents. But now you couldn’t even get yourself out of this anymore, not when you had heard his excitement again. How could you disappoint him? 

Just one more day. You’d do it for one more day, him and you. You’d just get today over with, that much you owed him, and then you’d sit him down to break it all off.

The dress was still oh so beautiful on you, harmonised perfectly with the white cropped cardigan you had picked out for today because it was, indeed, cold like Jungkook had said it was, and you really didn’t want to freeze. Your hair remained the same as always. You had thought about changing it, but decided in the end that at least your hair should be the way you were used to. Same with your jewellery, the same few pieces you wore every day adorning you today too. You kept the makeup minimal, and still it took you ages to get it done, hands shaky as you carefully drew on eyeliner and curled your lashes. 

Looking at yourself you wondered if it was enough to fool everyone, yourself possibly even that you were perfectly fine, that you fit to Jungkook, that he and you could be something more, that your background was the same as theirs, that you were just another Narae, well-off and well-travelled.

But your doubts and worries had no time to brew, your doorbell announcing Jungkook. Shrugging on your coat and slipping into the pair of black kitten heels you had borrowed from Chaeyoung, you gave yourself one more look in the mirror. You looked beautiful, you knew that. Everything about you looked so close to perfect, and yet, you felt the opposite. Today was the last time for Jungkook and you, and just the thought made you want to cry.

You shook your head, not wanting to keep Jungkook waiting any longer. It was truly cold, and you regretted your choice of shoes the moment you stepped outside, cursing yourself. The wind snaked up your legs. Maybe if you knew that this wasn’t going to be your last day together as a pretend couple, you would have run up and changed. But more than ever before, you wanted to look your best today. Because at the very least, however today might end (badly), you looked good.

Jungkook agreed, face lighting up the moment he laid his eyes on you. You tried your very best to return your smile. He looked oh so good too, wondering if he matched you on purpose. His sweater was the same deep rich red as yours, a white turtleneck layered underneath. He paired it off with some black slacks and black boots, your scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. You couldn’t look at him too long, vision beginning to swim when you did, so you focused on the ground, one step after the other.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jungkook gasped, clutching his chest and pretending to have a heart attack. 

“Thank you,” you said, speaking quietly, afraid your voice was going to betray you. “You too.”

Your compliment made his smile turn into a grin. “Well, you’re prettier.”

Usually, you’d make some snarky comment, fall into the same old banter you’d established with him long ago. Today, you could barely bring yourself to look at him. 

“Let’s-”

Jungkook cupped your face, lifting your eyes to him, forcing you to face him. His gaze turned your insides soft and puddy, hands beginning to shake by your side.

“I’m so happy, cabbage,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your lips. It almost made you cry. You screwed your eyes shut. Before the kiss could go on longer, devastate you more, crush you further, you pulled away.

“I-I’ve got lipgloss on,” you mumbled, giving Jungkook a short smile before stepping aside to walk to his car. He laughed behind you, telling you how he didn’t mind at all, but still, he followed you.

Just as you were about to reach for the car door, he did it for you. Always the gentleman. You paused for a second, surprised (why were you?), before climbing inside, heart heavy as you waited for him to just close the car door. Jungkook didn’t though, drawing your eyes back to him.

“Are you sure about the shoes?” he asked you, brows furrowed together. “It’s cold. You’re not even wearing stockings.”

You felt even more self-conscious all of a sudden, tucking your feet underneath the seat, cheeks warming and heart thrumming. These shoes were the only ones that fit with your outfit. You didn’t have an extensive shoe collection, anything you could change into now wouldn’t match. It’d be a waste not to wear them, especially after you had asked Chaeyoung to borrow them.

“Y-yeah, it’s fine.”

Jungkook seemed to disagree, still standing there with the car door in his hand, and when he opened his mouth, you knew he was going to argue with you.

“I really-”

“It’s fine,” you repeated, reaching for the door handle. “Let’s just go. We’re gonna be late.”

The frown didn’t disappear from his face, but he conceded, albeit with a sigh. His hand squeezed yours, and you flinched, pulling it away as if he burned you. Jungkook stopped, eyes shooting to yours.

Your heart dropped in your chest. Oh no. 

You put on your brightest and biggest smile. “Sorry, your hand’s just super cold,” you laughed. 

Jungkook blinked before smiling, “Ah, sorry.”

With that he shut the car door, and you pulled the seat belt across your body, readying your words on your tongue that you had thought of this entire time.

I’m super tired. Do you mind if I sleep during the ride?

It was a blatant lie. Every nerve and fibre of your body was lit up, wired tightly. You couldn’t find sleep even if you laid in your bed now. The thought of having to talk to Jungkook for the entirety of the car ride, however, turned your stomach upside down. 

You decided to wait for him to put on the seat belt first before saying it, needing a few more seconds to rid the knot from your throat. From the corner of your eye, you watched as he climbed inside, putting his key into the ignition, rubbing his hands together. But rather than reach for the seat belt, Jungkook fumbled with the console, turning on the heat, carefully turning the knob back and forth. Warm air started blasting from the heaters immediately, wrapping you up from every direction.

“Do you want the seat warmer too?”

He looked at you so sincerely. You crumbled almost.

“I-It’s okay.”

“Just say a word and I’ll change it, okay? Don’t want you freezing,” he said before strapping the seat belt across his chest. You turned to the window. 

Your voice wavered slightly. “Uh, I’m super tired. Do you mind if I sleep during the ride?”

“Oh, yeah, no, totally. Get some sleep. I’ll wake you up when we’re there. Gonna take a while anyway.”

You hummed in response, frowning when you saw Jungkook rub his hands together, blowing into them, even holding them up to the heaters for a few seconds. Before you could wonder for too long, he took your hand into his, thumb brushing back and forth.

“Warm enough?”

He said it with such a beautiful smile. It shattered you. You merely nodded before turning away, eyes closing shut, a lump stuck in your throat. The gesture, however small, dug into your heart like a knife. He was so nice, so kind, so good. And for the past week, you had thought the worst of him. 

You knew you had arrived even before Jungkook parked the car. The engine slowly shut off, keys jangling when he pulled them out. You heard the click of his seat belt, some shuffling, and your heart beat faster as you waited for him to wake you up. Truth be told, you hadn’t thought this through. How were you going to convince him that you had slept this entire time when you hadn’t even for a single second? The last time you had pretended to sleep in the car was when you were seven and didn’t want to go to school. And even then, it hadn’t worked, your mother seeing right through you.

Jungkook had held your hand the entire ride. You had so gotten used to the feeling of his warmth that when he slowly pried his hand out of yours, you felt oddly cold. For a second, you thought you had to have imagined it when you heard the car door open. But when the sound of it softly closing followed, you knew you hadn’t. Maybe he wanted to come around and then wake you up?

You waited a few more seconds but when your car door remained shut, you slowly peeled your eyes open. Once again, Jungkook wasn’t there. But your attention turned to the house across the street instead. Jisoo and Chaeyoung had, of course, asked for Jungkook’s address—Just in case. He had happily sent it to them, and you too if you wanted to forward it to anyone else too. (The fact that Jisoo was over an hour's train ride away didn’t matter by the way.) You couldn’t recall the address, but you did remember the house number, and you were definitely staring at the right house right now.

It was bigger than you could have imagined it to be. It was so absurdly big, almost cartoonishly so. Even more so because it was decked out with all kinds of Christmas lights and stockings. You doubted no second the inside rivalled Chaeyoung’s and Jisoo’s home. But however ridiculous it was to you, this was Jungkook’s childhood home, the house where he grew up in. Where he spent his childhood and teenage years. This particular house. A house. Whilst you grew up in a flat, just with enough space to cram in your little family.

You saw him then, standing next to the expensive car parked in the driveway. Jungkook opened the car door to the passenger seat, and a second later, his mother stepped out. He offered her his hand, earning himself a big smile from her. From inside the car, you couldn’t hear what she said, but you could imagine it. She was right, he was a great son. 

Jungkook looked a lot like his mother, you realised. She had gifted him with her kind eyes and soft big smile. No wonder, her son was so beautiful. She was an elegant woman. It was obvious. The kind of woman that wore cashmere sweaters, baked fresh bread every Sunday, made sure to do her skincare routine every morning and night, expensive creams and serums lining her bathroom cupboard. Not a single hair on her head was grey. She was the perfect wife and mother.

From the driver's seat, a man emerged, Jungkook’s dad. There was a hint of grey colouring his hair, but he pulled it off well. He was shorter than Jungkook by a bit, but you could see right away where Jungkook got his confidence from. For a moment, you wondered if that was how Jungkook would look like when he was older. Would he resemble his father? His dad quickly rounded the car, greeting his son with a hug before taking his wife’s hand into his. He had a kind smile too, you noticed. Of course, he did.

Jungkook had to have said something particularly funny because both his parents erupted into laughter. You looked away, closing your eyes. 

What were you doing here?

The question blared louder than ever before. Could you really do this? Fool everyone? Yourself too? The answer was obvious to you as you looked ahead. A part of you wished you had come to that conclusion before you had gotten into the car. You didn’t know your way around this neighbourhood (of course, not), but you knew you had to get away from here either way.

You stepped out of the car, quietly shutting the door. He couldn’t see, couldn’t know. You had to get away, now.

“Where’s your girlfriend, Kook?” 

His father’s voice made you pause. Jungkook sounded so much like him.

“In the car. She’s sleeping.”

“Are you not gonna wake her up? At least, let her come inside and sleep inside. It’s so cold.”

“No, I was gonna, but then I saw you and dad pull up,” Jungkook explained, his voice carried to you through the wind. His car offered you enough coverage to hide and at the same time allowed a clear view of Jungkook and his parents. “Also, I was gonna get her another pair of shoes. She’s wearing heels.”

His mother gasped. “In this weather? Does she at least have stockings on?” When he shook his head, she gasped again. “No, that’s not good. You better get her another pair of shoes. She’s gonna freeze!”

“I know- ah, I turned off the heat!” Jungkook touched his forehead as if to say how stupid of him. 

You pressed your lips together, teeth sinking into your tongue. The guilt clawed up your throat, raw and red. It hurt, so much so that you didn’t even feel the cold wind on your feet and up your legs, or the way they ached from the unnatural arch the heels forced them into. 

“Go get your girlfriend some shoes,” Jungkook’s father told him. “I’ll get the groceries-”

“What? No, let me, dad. I can do both. I’ll be quick.”

“It’s fine, Kook. We don’t want your girlfriend freezing.” His mother placed her hand on his shoulder. But like the good son he was, he wasn’t having it, already moving to open the trunk.

“It’s okay. I turned off the car just now, and she’s been sleeping peacefully this entire time. I’ll be quick,” Jungkook insisted. “You guys get inside.”

His parents looked at him with a sigh, realising defeat. Jungkook’s father handed him the car keys.

“Well, you better be quick. You know we can’t wait to meet Y/N.”

And with that, they walked inside, hand in hand. Your heart shattered, your name rolling so easily off their lips. It was so odd to hear them say it, hear with how much kindness they did. 

You should just go now, take this opportunity to run, but your feet remained cemented, your eyes following Jungkook as he brought the first two bags up to the front door before grabbing the last two out of the car. Moving his foot underneath the sensor, the trunk closed automatically. You knew nothing about cars but you knew that such a feature didn’t come with most, and was definitely not cheap either.

Right now, looking ahead of you, you could see for the first time clearly just how different Jungkook and you were. There were two different worlds between you, a distance that no one could cross, no less a relationship that wasn’t genuine to begin with. It had been nice and fun, foolishly nice and fun, to pretend all this time, but in the end it had been foolish more than anything. 

Why you didn’t move still remained a mystery to you. Maybe your feet had really frozen to the sidewalk, the heels one of your worst ideas yet, or maybe you simply couldn’t do it, bring it over your heart to just walk away. Maybe you just needed a little more, of him and you. You knew these few seconds would be the last ones of peace before it would all crumble. The illusion would shatter. He and you would be done, forever. There would be no more hangouts together with all your friends, no more cookies and Avatar marathons, no more kisses and hugs. 

Jungkook and you would dissolve, just as quickly as it had all begun in that library with a notebook and pen. 

Jungkook was about to turn around and close the door and he’d see you, standing there on the sidewalk with your eyes set straight on him. He’d see you and he’d smile and put down the bags and walk over to you and ask you why you were standing there and why did you get out of the car and how cold it was. How stupid and silly of you! 

He’d come over and bring you into a hug and his lips would ghost over the crown of your head and you’d cave and melt and you’d go in and meet his family and it’d hurt so much to tell Jungkook’s parents what your parents did when they’d inevitably ask you because of course they would and you’d have to see as they realised that your parents didn’t get to enjoy higher education. They’d be silent for a few seconds before nodding and smiling. They’d quickly change the topic because it was better to talk about something else and oh I heard something so interesting on the news recently, did you hear?

But you didn’t move, even as Jungkook turned, arms heavy with grocery bags, and lifted his head, eyes meeting yours as you predicted he would. His lips lifted up into a smile, a smile bigger than you’d expected. He didn’t move though. Instead he blurred into a heap of colours.

You could no longer do this.

The image of him cleared as the first tears fell, and you watched as his face crumbled while he watched your chest heave up and down, sobs pushing out from your throat. 

Jungkook let go of the grocery bags, the contents spilling out. When he took his step towards you, you did too, away from him. He stilled, frozen. Why, you could see it on his face. Why were you crying? Why were you moving away from him? He deserved answers, an explanation, but the most you could muster up right now was the shake of your head.

No.

And then you took off. 

“Y/N!” 

You pressed your hand to your lips, scared of filling the street with your gut wrenching sobs. Tears kept streaming down your face, hot and heavy. 

You did feel sorry for doing this to Jungkook. But you had to. Because he wasn’t going to. It had to be you. You who finally saw the truth in the eye that this was ridiculous, that this had gone off the rails, that Jungkook and you should have never gotten to this point, to where you found comfort in his arms and he knew your favourite cookies and you showed him your home and he knew more than he should about you. To the point where you had shared the bed together and knew the softness of the other’s lips. To the point where you had irrevocably and undeniably and unfortunately fallen for Jungkook.

You were in love with Jeon Jungkook, and it was the worst thing you could have done to yourself-

“Y/N!”

And it was affirmed when he seized your elbow and turned you around. You didn’t make it very far. Your eyes locked with his, and you could see it in them. How this was going to end. How this had to end, now. 

You were reminded of when you ran out on Jaehwa after seeing him for the first time again. It was what you always did, you realised. Run. 

You just never expected you’d have to run out on Jungkook too.

His eyes, wide and big, searched your face, for something to give him a clue as to what was going on in the head of yours, anything. He didn’t understand. 

You pulled away from him as if his touch burned you, pushed him away.

“Why? What’s wrong?” he asked, frantic, reaching out for you again, but you couldn’t let him touch you, tumbling backwards. Hurt flashed across his features, but this was for the best. Why did you have to be this dramatic? How stupid of you!

“I-I can’t,” you stuttered, shaking your head, dragging your coat sleeve frantically on your cheeks. “I-I just can’t.”

Jungkook stared at you, face twisting and morphing into emotions you couldn’t decipher. You had never really understood him anyway.

“O-okay, hey, that’s fine.”

Who would have thought this would hurt so much to hear?

“That’s alright.”

He should be furious, absolutely and utterly mad with you. You had just run away. If he hadn’t caught you, he would have had to somehow explain to his parents why his so-called perfect girlfriend was suddenly gone. And yet, he met you with empathy and kindness. Jungkook was so good, so precious. He was so much better than you, deserved more. 

“I’ll give you a ride home-”

“No!” you screamed, lungs heaving for air, chest rising and falling dramatically. You shook your head, repeated it again, quieter this time. “No, you don’t understand.”

Jungkook stared at you, mouth opening and closing. “Okay, then explain. But let’s do this in the car-”

“Why are you like this?” You threw the question at his head, venomous and bitter. The anger wasn’t fair, shouldn’t be aimed at him at all. What had he done to deserve it? And yet, you couldn’t find it in you to shift the target. “What are we doing?”

His brows knitted together, the knit deepening. “I-I don’t know what you mean.” You looked at him as if he should. “Can we get to the car first, cabbage-”

You flinched. How could he still call you that? 

“This is so stupid,” you scoffed, shaking your head, eyes looking at everything but him. The cold wind blew your tears away, and your cheeks felt raw from all of the rubbing and dragging. “I- this is so wrong on so many levels. Why am I even here? What are we even doing? Why are you like this?”

“You don’t want to meet my parents, that’s fine. I really think we should get to the car-”

“Why? Because you don’t want your neighbours and parents to see what crazy person you’ve brought home?”

“What? No! Who said that? I wanna get to the car because it’s freezing cold and you only have a coat and heels on-”

“Oh, please, Jeon!” The laugh slipping from your lips made Jungkook flinch. It was so mean, filled with so much spite. “Don’t pretend to be good. What a cheap and pathetic act!”

None of the words you spoke were truthful. You didn’t know where you pulled them from, you didn’t believe any of them. All of them were hollow and mean. But maybe they’d be enough though to bring out anger within Jungkook, make him come to the same realisation as you had—that he and you had to end. But knowing him, he’d meet you with empathy and kindness over and over again. 

He had to hate you. 

You had to make him hate you. Otherwise, this would never find an end. Otherwise, he’d convince you of the opposite, and you’d never be able to let go of him. Otherwise, you’d lose yourself completely to him.

And when you looked at Jungkook, you knew you were right. Because there was no no fire in his eyes, nothing. He still stared at you the same way he used to. Even after you had called him names. Hating you was the only option.

“I really think we should just talk this out another time.”

Defeat, you realised, contorted his features. Not anger. Not spite. None of it. Just defeat. You closed your eyes, shaking your head.

“You’re clearly not in the best of moods and saying stuff that you don’t mean. I don't know what’s going on, but let me just give you a ride home and we’ll figure this out another-”

“Figure out what?” You leaned forward, gestured wildly around yourself. “We? Oh, please, Jeon, there’s no fucking ‘we’. Don’t make me laugh!”

He shook his head, hands running through his hair. 

“I really don’t think you mean any of this, Y/N. I know this entire situation must be bringing up bad memories for you- I know Jaehwa hurt you-”

“What? This has nothing to do with him,” you scoffed, narrowing your eyes, the words pushing through your clenched teeth like a bullet out of a gun. “What do you know, Jeon? What do you really know, huh? Actually, how can you know anything? You with your perfect stupid fucking family with a house oh so big because you just had to show everybody how you were better and richer and greater. What do you know about anything, really?”

You weren’t making sense, but you could see a change in Jungkook’s face, the flicker in his eyes as you mentioned his family. Bullseye.

“Miss me with that bullshit. You’re the kind of people I hate. It’s all so fake and condescending- fuck, you’re so stupidly loaded you’re paying me to pretend to date you so you can win a stupid shitty bet with Taehyung. Your parents must be so proud of their great great son.”

He closed his eyes, screwed them so tightly shut in hopes that maybe if he did so long enough, this would turn out to be a bad dream. This wasn’t happening. Things weren’t falling apart like that. They couldn’t. His hands curled into fists.

“Now you can’t even look at me, Jeon?” you sneered, voice and words growing more and more vicious. “Can’t face the truth, right? You pretend to be so good, so kind. But for fuck’s sake, look at the house you grew up in! Look at where I live! You’re the same as Jaehwa- actually, no because at the very least, he didn’t pretend like he and I weren’t different. You should have some shame, but I guess with parents-”

“Y/N!”

Your name cut through the air, and for once, you stopped and breathed. Jungkook had peeled his eyes open again, teeth gritted, jaw pulled taunt, hands curled into tight fists. 

“I really think it’d be better if you stopped talking now.”

And yet, it wasn’t the response you wanted.

You could have cried then, bawled, fallen to your knees and just admitted to it all. How much you did love him and how much you wanted him, but couldn’t have him because this just wasn’t going to work because he never really did love you and neither would his parents. He and you were doomed, like the moon and the sun. He just would never see it, too idealistic for his own good. Your blatant and devastating flaws. You weren’t good or kind. You had to be the one to pull the plug, to call this what it was—wrong.

“Yeah, of course, you’d say that,” you mumbled, the tip of your shoes digging into the concrete, rolling back and forth. The scratching sound it produced soothed you oddly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You know what I mean. You rich people just can’t ever face the truth-”

“No, you idiot!” 

His voice echoed through the empty street, loud and clear. Anger and disdain coloured his words, features twisting and knits deepening. There it was, finally. The anger and upset you had waited and waited for, the blow of the bomb, the finale. 

“I think you should stop talking because I love you and I don’t want my heart broken any further!”

Jungkook was so loud. You had never heard him so loud before, yell like that, tell you so abundantly clear that he loved you. It was the declaration of declarations, blaring and grand. You had wanted to hear it, needed to hear it all this time, all this week—that he loved you—and now when you finally did, it was truly the worst thing anyone had ever told you ever. Because it was everything you wished for, but you couldn’t have it, none of it. It wasn’t real, and even if it was, even if he meant it and he loved you, you couldn’t be with him. The truth didn’t matter. You were too damaged, too broken, too fucked up to never not doubt Jungkook, not to fear that he’d leave at any point. 

You’d never trust him.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you!” He pointed at you, face scrunched and eyes red, tears welling. “I thought we had gotten past this- isn’t it obvious that I do really love-”

“Oh, please. You goddamn liar!” Your voice shook, broke in your throat and mouth, head spinning. You were losing Jungkook, spectacularly so. “What do you know about love? This is an act, Jeon! You’re not in love with me! You’re in love with an act! You’re in love with the idea of winning your stupid bet with-”

“No, no-”

“Yes, Jeon, you don’t know shit. You pretend like you do- think you do when in reality, you don’t know anything about me. Who am I if not just a pawn in your game? Someone you paid, so you could boast and brag that you didn’t get rejected, huh?”

Jungkook licked his lips, veins bulging in his neck as he tried his very best to not go too far, implode on you, hands digging into the roots of his hair. “No, that’s not true. The bet between Tae and me—”

“Actually, you know what? I don’t even care. Because all of it is wrong. It’s not what we agreed upon-”

“Okay, yeah, so we weren’t supposed to kiss and spend time together privately, or sleep with each other and talk on the phone for hours. But look at us now!” He pointed between him and you, as if there was something between you. “We did it all, okay? And? Was it so bad?”

His eyes fixed yours, so deeply. He took a step towards you, and you didn’t back away, couldn’t.

“You call me a liar when I tell you I love you—” His voice shook, trembled terribly, and you could see Jungkook fight to find the right words, struggle to speak. It pained you to know it was all because of you. How easy would it be to take it all back? Admit fault and go back? But would it be right? “—but tell me then, why are you looking at me like that?”

You tried a laugh. A laugh that was meant to dismiss it all, deny the truth, but it sounded hollow and wrong. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes, beginning to crumble. And Jungkook saw right through you.

“Look at me and tell me you don’t feel something!” 

You closed your eyes, crossing your arms in front of your stomach. The world began to spin faster and faster, and you felt like you were losing the ground underneath yourself.

“You’re not being fair,” you whispered, shaking your head. You were speaking much quieter now, your voice having lost all of its bite and edge. This had been harder than you expected. “You’re breaking the contract-”

“Oh my God, will you forget about that? Both of us broke it a long time ago, willingly! Can you please just forget about all of it—the contract, the bet—and look at the facts?”

Jungkook was begging at this point. Would you come to your senses?

“Do you really genuinely think that the past weeks- months didn’t mean anything to me? That it was really all just pretend? That I lied about all of it? That I’m really such a big asshole that I’d pretend to be in love with you this entire time, call you daily, buy you your favourite cookies, hold your hand and kiss you and tell you—” This seemed to drain Jungkook of everything, voice trembling as he presented the worst version of himself to you. “—over and over again that I love you?”

He leaned forward, searched for your eyes. 

It was right in front of you—a white flag up in the air, for you to grab and hiss. You could do it now, he’d forgive you, you were certain of that. Jungkook was still kind enough to do so, his heart ready to let you back in. You wouldn’t even need to say anything, just falling into his arms would suffice. It’d be so easy. Simple, in fact. He’d let you do it, take your silent defeat as an apology. You’d never have to talk about it ever again. It was tempting, slip back into what you were before as if you weren’t aware that he and you were two parallel lines never meant to cross. Jungkook would never be tempted to take this way out, he’d stand straight for what he’d said, repent. The thought to take the easy way out would never cross his mind. It did yours.

“Y-yeah, I do.”

Jungkook shook his head, mouth set in a line.

“You don’t mean that-”

“Yes, I do-”

“Y/N, no, no, you-”

“Stop,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Stop insisting that I don’t mean it. I do. I-”

It was so ironic. It felt like the entire universe was mocking you, laughing at the two of you. This was what  Jungkook had wished for him and you, imagined how beautiful it would be, how you’d sit together in front of the window and watch before he’d suggest to go outside and you’d follow happily. You’d dance and play until neither of you could feel your hands and your cheeks were rough and raw from the cold wind. You’d yearn for the warm, shiver as you stepped inside, but you’d be happy. So very happy. But now it felt like a stab to your hearts instead. 

The first few snowflakes softly landed on your sleeve. It was so beautiful. The entire street would be white in a few hours, kids would come out to play soon.

“I’ll pay you back.” You took a step back, rubbed away the tears that wanted to spill. “See it as compensation for… not meeting your parents.”

Jungkook couldn’t respond, teeth sinking into his tongue, biting on the muscle until it hurt too much. 

“That’s not- that’s not the point. I don’t care for the money, I just-” He deflated. “Just-just meet them, Y/N. Give them a chance, please. You’ll realise- they’re gonna love-”

He stopped when you shrunk in on yourself, vehemently shaking your head. Neither of you said anything, just allowing the snow to fall around you and cover you in white. You’d be shivering in just a few minutes, hair and skin wet, feet shaky on the cold ground. 

Jungkook looked down, hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped. 

“Okay.”

You stood there as you waited for him to turn his back to you and walk away, waited and waited to be finally alone. He’d do it and you’d be alone and you’d be proven right, vindicated. Relief would flood you, knowing you had seen it coming, had always known correctly, protected you, at least, this time of hurt and-

The keys looked cold to the touch.

“Take them. Wait in the car. Call Chae or whoever to come pick you up. You can leave the keys in the car. I’ll get them later.”

Jungkook was ordering you, telling you what to do. And though he spoke with finality, allowing no room for you to disagree, his voice trembled and shook. You didn’t have to look to know the tears staining his cheeks, to know how much you had hurt him, realise that in your quest to do the best for both him and you because he deserved better and not be hurt and left in the end, you had done just that to Jungkook, plunged the knife into his heart and pushed it further even as he spat out blood. 

“It’s fine, I can-”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence before Jungkook grabbed your hand and placed the keys into your palm, forcing your fingers shut around them with his own. His touch sent sparks through your body. It’d be the last time he’d ever touch you, you realised, and before you could stop it, the tears spilt. But you didn’t let out a noise, kept your head low and eyes even lower. 

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

Jungkook hesitated before letting go, his feet dragging as he walked away.

Maybe it was you holding the gun, not Jungkook.

→ thanks for reading !! if you have any thoughts, id love to hear it!

[petrichormeraki]

Some life advice nobody told me that I’ve slowly gathered through navigating the adult world;

If you go out to eat, tip in cash. 100% of that money goes to the server if it’s a worthwhile establishment, whereas a portion of a card tip goes to the business owners.

You don’t owe your bosses anything that’s not in your contract. They will try to get more out of you than you’re paid for—don’t give it to them. Even if they try to guilt you over it.

If you can’t muster up the energy to take care of yourself, whether through work fatigue or depression, at least brush your teeth. That is the most expensive part of hygiene to fix/replace. Everything else can wait if you can’t manage it at the moment.

That said, a shower is Temporary Depression Eraser. It’s kind of incredible how well it works to help you feel better, even if it’s a lot of spoons.

Go out in the sun. It’s so dumb and small but human minds become a very not okay place to be if you don’t get your daily sunlight. Seasonally Affected Disorder is very real and stupid but it’s easily treatable. If you live in a climate without a lot of sun, they make lamps that emit the same rays to compensate.

Don’t feel bad for eating bread. Carbs are important and actually encouraged as long as it’s not the only thing you eat.

Vote in your local elections. Your voice will matter way more in those than anywhere else. They don’t tell you this because it’s true.

Don’t put stock in any bad thoughts you have after 8-9 pm. Again, so stupid but it’s a very real thing.

Kindness goes a long, long way. Even little things like ‘I like your shirt”. I promise you it makes a difference.

Eat at least one vegetable a day to keep your levels stable. The human body is a temperamental little bitch that makes everything Horrible Forever unless you eat a vegetable.

Hold landlords accountable. If you’re paying them an arm and a leg to live somewhere, they can fix your fucking boiler. It’s part of their contract as a homeowner if they’re renting to someone.

[icallhimjoey]

massage enthusiast nonnie here!

i requested a massage fic earlier this year which you wrote wonderfully! may we please have a massage fic where the reader is the masseuse?

back at it again with the massages !!!! so, i coupled this with two other requests: one about joe being grumpy and us fixing it, and one about joe being gooey drunk in love with us - hope you enjoy! Wordcount: 2.1K

---

Touch

The huffs and puffs, groans and frustrated sighs coming from the sofa were dramatic enough to make you chuckle to yourself as you took off your make-up in the bathroom.

The sounds of struggle followed by two soft thuds told you Joe had worked his way out of his shoes.

A silence followed. You pried mascara goop from the inner corner of your eyes with careful fingers when you suddenly heard a soft and annoyed, "I'm getting so old," before a louder, "Babe, come listen to this!"

Joe was in a mood.

Had been since dinner. He'd eaten too much too quickly, as had you, and fell into postprandial somnolence, or, you know, a fat after-dinner dip.

Amusement was evident on your face when you stepped into the living room, turning lights off and closing doors behind you as you went.

"This is mad," Joe muttered, and you saw him hunched in a weird position, very slowly moving his elbow up and down, in and out. His eyes found you, face all serious, and he said, "I can hear my bones creak."

You burst into laughter as you walked over, quite honestly excited for an hour or two of sofa time before you'd both roll into bed. Joe was wearing a jumper and, man, this guy in cosy soft fabrics hit different.

"I'm not joking, come, listen,"

You let yourself fall down right next to him and stilled so Joe could show you.

He kept moving his arm in the same way, and, sure enough, you heard very soft squeaking. Sounded a little like someone was polishing glass.

"Does that hurt?"

"No," Joe shrugged, finally moving, grabbing the TV remote and immediately cosying up to you as you reached for a blanket.

"Come here,"

"Oh babe, don't," you flinched whilst settling, startling Joe who was already crabby enough to take everything as a direct personal attack.

His facial expression was nothing short of a shocked frown. Defensive. Cross. A what-have-I-done-now mixed with I-didn't-do-anything sort of look. Angry at even the mere hint of an accusation of hurting you.

"My food baby."

No pressure on the stomach, is what you meant.

Joe huffed, annoyed his arm couldn't go where he wanted it to rest. He tried different spots; laid over your lap – no, around your shoulders – no. He settled for across your boobs, big palm covering one of them.

"Yea?" you questioned, looking down at yourself, unable to keep the smile from your face. "That comfortable for you?"

"No," he muttered, clearling lying, as you felt him sinking into your side more. "But these need safe-keeping, wait– take off your bra, this is an important job. Needs proper doing."

To say Joe helped you struggle out of your bra would be an overstatement. He used a tired arm behind you as you sat up, but didn't really do anything until you pulled your bra from underneath your top.

Before you relaxed back into the sofa, a hand snuck under your top and got back into its previous position.

"How are you so tired?" you commented on the back of a laugh. "You barely did anything at all today..."

You saw Joe's eyes flash up to check the clock before he groaned loudly. It was only just past 9.

"I'm getting old," he complained. "It's no fun. I can no longer have big carb-y meals, my bones make noise now. I don't– mmhm," you shut Joe up by slinking a hand into his hair, giving little scratches behind his ear.

Joe was easy that way. Like a puppy, immediately content when getting scritches.

"What are we watching?" you asked, shifting focus.

You got no answer. Just satisfied hums.

"Hmm?" you asked again, now taking the remote Joe was about to drop to take matters into your own hands.

Joe sighed deeply, murmured, "Mmmh, my eyes are closed, you choose,"

Perfect. You found something quick enough and were quick to also put your other hand to good use. To touch. If anything was going to get Joe out of his solemn mood, it was to touch and to be touched.

"Don't fall asleep on me," you whispered, and only got soft hums in return. "It's only just gone 9, you'll wake up at 4 and won't be able to get back to sleep,"

"But I'm tired," Joe muttered, his full body now sagged into your side, warm hand still cupping a boob. "I told you I am old now. This is what old people do."

"You're 29."

"Exactly."

Joe shifted, getting more comfortable, pressing his face into your arm and nuzzling there before a deep breath crooned on the exhale.

You stayed like that for a little while. Joe on a fast track into dreamland, you with one hand in his hair and the other softly playing with the cable knit on the bit of arm that wasn't hidden underneath your top.

After a bit, his hair distracted you enough to stop paying attention to whatever you'd put on the TV.

You let Joe's hair play between your fingers, felt how it was softer near his scalp, where it held less product, and enjoyed the way the curls sprung back into their curves after you straightened them in your raking.

"Your hair's too short," you knew Joe would barely hear you. "Should let the top grow out again," you used the pads of your fingers to swipe the hair from his forehead and softly pushed it back. Because of the current length, his hair stood up straight and you tried repressing a giggle at how silly it looked.

"Hmmpf," Joe grunted, moved his head slightly. A feeble attempt at stopping you. It was of no use. You kept playing, shaping little strands in whichever way you wanted.

You felt how Joe's fingers twitched under your top. Squeezed you. Made you giggle more and bend to press a kiss into his hair.

You felt it returned on your arm.

You watched TV and absentmindedly played with Joe's hair until you felt yourself starting to drift off as well.

Time for bed.

You moved to sit up and it made Joe slump down the back of the sofa behind you.

"Come on," you had to clear your throat to get the words out normally. "Let's go to bed."

You got struggling groans and a furrowed brow as an answer. You would've said something about it, but usually, this was what you were like. You fell asleep on Joe all the time. He got tasked with getting you from the sofa into bed several times a week, and that was never easy. Real piece of work, you were.

Joe was allowed to act like a stroppy teenager this one time.

You got up and took both his hands in yours to pull him off the sofa. It made Joe find his feet, eyes squinty but open, but he didn't move otherwise. You were tugging on dead weight, he did nothing to help, so you pulled harder, two relaxed hands in your squeezing ones, until you heard a soft pop.

"Ohhh," Joe immediately reacted, sitting up properly now, pain visible on his face.

"My God, was that your shoulder?"

It was. Joe reached for it with his other hand and rotated where it hurt.

"See, I told you. My age it catching up to me."

"Shut up," you smiled, watching Joe yawn and stretch, hearing his spine crack next, and you both laughed as you heard it.

"I'm falling apart."

"Well, come to bed. Fall apart in there, you'll have a soft landing."

You turned the TV off and were already on your way. Joe followed suit, hips stiff, muttering about maybe having to start going to a physiotherapist or a sports masseur. Like he was a pro athlete.

So dramatic.

Before getting into bed, Joe did some old man stretches by his side of the bed just after he took his clothes off, just in his boxers now.

He complained some more. Groaned and huffed and winced until you sighed and said, "You're all mumbles and murmurs, ask what you want like a normal person. You're an adult."

"Mmmbackrub," Joe said under his breath as he let himself fall onto the bed face first right next to you.

"What was that?"

"Want a backrub," Joe said it in such a whiny baby voice, it made you roll your eyes as you saw him tuck his chin in and look up at you, half his face hidden by the pillow.

"Pwease?"

The purest definition of puppy eyes begged you to touch him.

"You," you started, voice loud and as thunderous as you could make it sound whilst you threw the covers back. "Best recognise..." you slung a leg over Joe's bum, "...that you have the most amazing girlfriend..." and you sat down, "...ever!".

You rubbed your hands together in an attempt to heat them up a bit, knowing it wouldn't do enough. They'd still feel cold to Joe's back, but he asked for a backrub and so, he was going to get one.

You were tired, had nearly fallen asleep yourself just mere minutes ago, but you knew Joe'd be out cold within seconds.

Now, it was one thing running your hands through his hair and hearing him hum. It was a whole other thing to run your palms over his back, fingers curled, nails scratching warm soft skin, and to feel him shudder from your touch.

You loved how responsive he was, muscles twitching as you went, voice audible through every exhale in gentle satisfied purrs and buzzes.

There were no knots to be found. Nothing felt hard or strained or tensed or stiff. Solid and firm, yes, but soft, kneadable and pliable under your touch.

You rubbed between his shoulder blades, one hand following the other, stroking upwards several times until you let fingers venture upwards towards his neck before they parted and found both his biceps.

Sometimes you let fingernails scrape a little and got soft moans out of him.

You let your hands follow the lines of his torso, from his wider shoulders down his sides to his slimmer waist and hips. All the way down and then back up again.

It was hardly an actual massage. More just stroking hands, able to apply more pressure when your arms were closer to you because then you could lean into them more. His lower back got the fists that pushed, this upper back soft fingertips that tickled and made him shiver, skin breaking out into goosebumps.

After a while Joe moved his arms down and found your legs to hold onto by his sides, folded his hands over the crease between your thighs and calves, fingers fighting to sneak inbetween.

"Best girl–" Joe cut himself off with a moan that got stuck in his throat, your hands making magic happen, having it dance all across his back. "Most amazing girlfriend."

"Hmmhm," you agreed.

It took maybe five minutes of touching warm skin and letting fingers trail for you to suspect Joe'd fallen asleep.

Good.

You really were an amazing girlfriend. Lulled your mopey boyfriend right to sleep whilst sat on his ass. He was already practically half asleep before you'd even started, but that was easy to ignore.

You were about to climb off and roll onto your half of the bed when you felt Joe's hands tighten where they had a hold on you still.

"Lay down," Joe said, barely even a whisper, the least amount of effort put into shaping the words.

"Huh?"

"On top,"

You looked down at the back of his head, face squished into his pillow and hated how, even now in this state, he was able to make everything inside your chest swell until it hurt.

Grinning like an idiot, you reached behind you to find the covers to pull over your shoulders. The delay in doing what Joe asked of you got you a little impatient wiggle from his hips that made you huff a laugh as you lowered yourself down and draped yourself over him.

You shifted and shimmied until you were comfortable, sneaking an arm around, finding warmth in the gap below his neck.

Joe was warm, unwound, and full of sleep. Wanted your weight on top of him to fully drift off.

If being moody and irritable and grouchy ended with Joe wanting to just every inch of you all over every inch of him, he could be crabby and bad-tempered and tetchy with your full permission.

All you had to do was touch.

Your touch always fixed it.

the end

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelybluenesss, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @notverywise, @paola-carter, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2]

actually good cleaning hacks from someone who’s been through some shit

Get a steam mop I don’t care how much it is or cheap, just get one

if you have a pet invest in a wet dry vacuum, you will thank me.

get cleaning cloths you actually like the feel of, if you hate microfiber get a cheap set of tea towels and use them instead. Or chop up a dead tee shirt and use that.

plug in vacuums are 2x more powerful than non-plug in vacuums. You trade sucking power for mobility with cordless, so think that over when you get one.

buying a cheap mop every time one gets moldy is cheaper than having to deal with any mold you get from using a moldy mop.

invest in disinfectant/antifungal/antiviral/antibacterial liquid for your laundry, because that stuff makes getting rid of moldy musty musky shit easy. And it cleans your cleaning cloths without getting them greasy or soapy.

to fix “I accidentally left my clothes in the washing machine too long now they smell like mold” thing, you will need antifungal laundry liquid and the literal sun. Wash your clothes on the hottest setting you can with your clothing materials in mind, add the antifungal before you start, let it go for like 2 hours. And put it in the sun to dry. Repeat if it still smells moldy, until it doesn’t anymore, works like a charm!

to clean crystalline dog piss, you will need water, a steam mop, a wet dry vacuum (depending on if it’s in a carpet) dog cleaning spray or vinegar. Basically , rehydrate the piss, clean it up with dog spray or HOT vinegarish water, grab a steam mop and steam it (if not on carpet) and viola it should be okay now.

If it’s in the carpet you will need to rehydrate the piss, then just dowse the piss with water, use the wet dry vacuum to suck up the water, repeat until water comes up clean. Use whatever pet cleaner that’s good on your carpet to get the smell out, Patch test it in the corner of the carpet before you do it on the piss spot, soak up and remaining water from the carpet until it’s dry or blow dry it if you have to. And tada you have a cleaner carpet! The same works for dog shit too.

drain snakes are your best friend if you don’t remember to get the hair out the drain.

have one sponge for wiping down the sink and one for washing your dishes, because sometimes it’s easier to use a sponge to wipe down the sink than a cleaning cloth.

You can put sponges in the dishwasher and it cleans them REALLY WELL, do it everyday if you can.

Invest in a good glass cleaner for glass because when it gets greasy it’s hell.

Koh cleaner will literally cut through grease and oil, and fat. Like it wasn’t even there, if you don’t have the money white vinegar and bi-carbs does the same thing. Though be careful because it’s reactive and might destroy your countertop or pots, just invest in koh your life won’t be the same. (I can clean all the grease off things, that’s how good it works. Plus it doesn’t smell!!!)

Replace your toilet cleaner every 3 months, or make sure you don’t let it fester. That’s more of a hassle than replacing it every now and then.

Get a good dish soap, because you can use it for everything because of how mild it is.

After mopping always steam mop otherwise it will always be streaky or tacky, idk why but steam mops fix this 9/10 times.

there’s more, but I;m too tired.

[pedge-stuff]

Fic request: Pedro or reader has an intense panic attack in a public. Reader has to talk him through it and calm him down enough so they can leave the event. Holding each other in bed.

clean up, aisle 4 (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked," per usual.

thanks, as always, for everything.

summary: sometimes, you deal with the downsides.

——————————————————————————

"I feel like we tried this and didn't like it."

Pedro inspects the back label on the box— some kinda chickpea flour protein pasta 'alternative' that came less-than-highly recommended by his personal trainer— before re-shelving it alongside the other sad, fake noodles.

The grocery store has become a little bit of a minefield. Gladiator 2 prep was exciting, until the rigorous hours in the gym started requiring a specialized diet. He can't eat carbs, you don't eat meat, both of you love frozen pizza, and neither of you really want to participate in the whole classic disordered Hollywood eating thing. And yet, here you are.

Home-cooked meals have consisted mostly of roasted vegetables and dry, baked proteins. You're attempting to eat "clean" in solidarity with him, but...

"We don't need pasta," Pedro laments, turning away from the shelving altogether. "What's left?"

You pull the notes-app list back up. "Whatever kind of frozen fruit you want for smoothies, plus pitted dates. I'd love those wasabi almonds from last month, but I dunno if they have them again. We could get Skinny Pop, if you want it?"

A grimace. "That's fine."

"We don't have to get it, Pedge."

"It's fine, really. We need something for the movie tonight, right?"

His shoulders slump as he pushes the cart onwards. The back right wheel is making a little squeaking sound, sharp and grating on your last damn nerve. This grocery store feels more and more like a minefield with every aisle turn. The balance between supporting Pedro in his training, and wanting him to just say fuck it and be happy, feels entirely precarious.

"Almonds," Pedro mutters, veering right, around an obnoxiously large Goldfish display and the toddler sobbing loudly in front of it. An obstacle course of bright lights and loud sounds. "Almonds, almonds—"

"Ohmygod, Pedro Pascal."

Immediately, no. Two college-aged, tri delta-looking, fresh-from-the-salon type girls, grinning like they'd won the damn lottery. Fans— no one he actually knows says "Pay-drow."

The wheel squeaks again as they grind to a forceful halt; the girls are standing directly in the path of the cart.

"Should we ask for a picture?" They speak at full volume, to each other, as if he isn't standing right in front of them.

"We have to, for the gram. Oh my god."

"Maybe Deuxmoi will pick it up."

Pedro grimaces as they start rummaging for their phones. He's always generous with his time— sometimes a little too generous, so concerned with hurting peoples' feelings that he'll take selfies through the drive-thru window, or walking the dogs. Even one memorable time, pumping gas.

Only at night, lights off, tucked away, does he ever confess his frustrations. As though he should not want privacy; as though being grateful was more important than being safe. Guilt eats him in ways that you alone cannot heal. All you can do is hold him a little tighter.

A phone is thrust towards you. "Can you take a picture of us?"

Before either of you can react, one girl has her arm over Pedro's shoulder. The other, on his waist. He's never been one to shy away from affection— had been pushing the cart single-handedly, with the other on the small of your back, since the dairy section— but that intimacy does not extend to strangers.

They are laughing, chattering— something about Game of Thrones. You distinctly make out so sexy and slay.

But you hardly register them, instead frowning at your partner as you snap a couple pics without looking. He is frozen, eyes fixed somewhere past you, though he offers a wan smile for the camera. Answers a question you can't hear with a half-hearted laugh, before gesturing to the next aisle. A polite gesture, too far from the fuck off on the tip of your tongue.

Pedro attempts to move away, but the girl's arm is still snaked around his waist. Trapped. She reaches to wrap the other around, attempting to encircle him in a teddy bear-style hug. This, here, is the limit.

With a rough, jerky motion, he forces her off of him. "Sorry, sorry," he says quickly. "We need to go."

"But—"

If you push the cart, and it happens to roll over a perfectly manicured foot, well...

Pedro is a few paces ahead of you, stalking towards the almonds like they owe him a grave debt. His fists clench and unclench at his side.

Not good.

His tells for a panic attack are well-catalogued in your brain. You push the cart to one side, mouthing an apology to the man you almost plow down, before approaching Pedro with caution. His chest heaves as he frowns at the Blue Diamond display, breaths noticeably shallow.

"Pedro." Fighting muscle memory, you don't touch him. Don't want to startle him, though concern burns a hole in your own diaphragm.

"Mm."

"Baby, look at me."

His eyes squeeze shut, instead. "I'm good. I'm good."

"Why don't you go to the car, I'll finish up quick."

"I'm good," he insists, voice cracking.

"It's OK if you're not good."

A hitch in his breath, and Pedro's face crumbles. "Just startled me, is all," he whispers, brown eyes pooling remorsefully. "So stupid. Can't even make it through the fucking supermarket to get my fucking fruits and veggies."

You reach for his hand, lithe fingers prying his clench fist apart. Soothe the red-crescent divots in his palm with the pad of your thumb. Wait for him to continue, as if you're not both standing in the middle of the nuts-candy-and-coffee section.

"Everything is just a lot right now," Pedro says, dragging in a shaky but deeper inhale. His other hand swipes across his cheek.

Mentally, you catalogue how difficult it would be to return the items in your cart; how fast you could retrace your steps, and rush the man home.

You bring his palm to your lips, instead. "Go take a smoke," you suggest. "And then we can get the fuck outta here."

"Someone's gonna post it online again. Everyone's talking about how I reek of cigarettes."

"You have reeked of cigarettes as long as I've known you. They are late to this." Tugging playfully on the hand you still hold, you wait for him to crack the barest, thinest of smiles.

"You still love me, though."

"Enough to fight off anyone else who tries to dry-hump you in this Whole Foods."

Slowly, you both retreat to the abandoned cart. "Can we—" Pedro stops himself, unsure of how to ask.

"Whatever it is, babe, yes."

He pushes forward. "What if I was asking if we could get naked right now and run through the supermarket parking lot so people would think we were crazy and leave us alone forever?"

"Then I'd start untying my shoes. It'd be hard to pull my jeans over 'em."

The wasabi almonds are, finally, pulled from the shelf. You proceed to the freezers. "That's not what I was gonna ask," he admits, grabbing a bag of chunked mango.

"Bummer."

"Can we just get some normal fucking popcorn? If one night's worth of fake butter is what does me in, someone else can be the Gladiator, I give up."

For him? Anything.

[kamiliora]

Too people who want to get "prettier" and have a "glow up" Do NOT expect it to go over night.

Plenty of people believed that you just become pretty with no effort like you see on TV. It's never that easy. It takes steps, processes and Discipline. Always start with the basics like :

Hygeine

Make a skincare routine for your skin

Know your skin type and build you skincare routine from there

body care for the entire body

Scrubs , lotions and body butters are a must

Exfoliate 1-2 times a week

haircare (hair is everything even if u have a hijab hair care is still possible)

Oil train your hair and know you hair porosity to know what products to use

Use a non sulphate or silicon shampoo

Conditioner and a hair oil of your choice based on your hair problem

Hair mask 1 times a week

Know ur hair pattern to be able to use the right products and not damage your hair pattern

Do not straighten your hair everyday!!!

Use Silk pillows and silk scrunchies instead of elastics!!!

Getting a closet and hair cut for you

Find your best colors and body type

Therefore you would know which colors make you shine the most as well as

Find your seasonal color and which fraction ur in (like winter bright , summer light and etc)

Find which type of hair cuts and bangs suit your facial featured and face shape most

I recommend looksmaxing or the Yt channel Dear Peachie to help you including makeup tutorials, which archetype you are and which closet you can do

Look for styles that match your personality and makes you stand out

Build up a hobby

like sports photography, drawing, crocheting, dancing, and etc.

Doesn't have to be time consuming just something to do when ur bored or free even

Also depends on your time to be careful on what you commit to

Try to explore more options without much costs before fully committing to something that isn't for long-term

Exercise ( unless you already do)

Exercise requires discipline for you to be able to do it continuously for progress

If you can't afford a premium membership take a walk/jog/run around the block,street,park

If you feel unsafe you can do a YouTube work outs as they are effective depending on your goal

I recommend channels like :Madfit ,Hinafit, Shirley kim, April Han, ema wong, and Chloe ting

Take time for yourself (not all the time)

If you dont have time for yourself your body and brain will get stressed (from experience)

It can be as simple as drinking your daily detox water, green juice, coffee, tea or reading a book

Get 8 hours of sleep

Make sure not to stress for something so complete a task when given no matter how far the deadline is!!!

Reduce screen time to 3 hours a day (outside of school/work related stuff)

Diet

Never go too extreme like you see those people online do

Unless you are talking to professionals such as dieticians, Nutritionists and etc. (Bc most public figures do have professionals that they seek help too for these types of situations)

stick to a healthy diet like the 80/20 method

Or you can also do keto/greek/high carb or protein just never go extreme as it will slow down your metabolism

Find who you really are and trying to be better

People never really open up to try different things you should try more to find what you like most or which you are most stable with

See the perspectives on how you act im different situations and see what your mistakes are to try to avoid doing them again

Fix your mentality (watch wizard Liz, Song Jia,) and read quotes to inspire you to do better and the most you can

Always Analyze the situation before commenting or doing action unless its an emergency

Do not let people decide for you or get to your head it is their opinion not yours. You opinion is never invalid and justified in your perspective

Confident vs Arrogant vs Egoistic

Confident people never brag nor do they drag people down. They know they are THAT person and will NOT care about your opinion of them.

Arrogant people like to Brag about something that they have and thinks their all That. They bring down people for not having the luxury they have. But when someone has more and better than them they always try to avoid them, argue with them or get annoyed by them as They want to show supremacy

Egoistic people tend to make fun of people. Self-centered people that only think about themselves without knowing or thinking that they hurt others. Their too preoccupied with themselves to think of others helps or needs

(Sorry its so long and unorganized I made this at 2:30 am bc idk and these are just some tips)

[katsigian]

𝕍𝕒𝕝𝕖𝕟, 𝔽𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕌𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕝 ℕ𝕠𝕨

When I made Valen, I never knew that he'd become such an integral part of me. I made him with all of the best parts of people I love, but also the worst. I began building Valen back in June 2021 and I've been developing him ever since.

He's one of the loves of my life, he's my baby, he's the steady, beautiful moon that's all full and bright and glowing in the night sky.

Valen is the best thing I've ever made.

This was him back in August 2021 when I first made him

This is him now as of July 2023. Nearly two years later

My sweet, handsome, angry boy. I love you so, so much.

He's flawed and dark and gritty and that is essential to him. I was very careful to give him realistic and human qualities, like his fatal flaw of devotion, his temper problems, his love for carb-heavy food. Valen is not a good person, no. He's a headhunter, a professional private contractor that fixes other people's problems for exorbitant amounts of money. He's hurt people and sleeps well at night. Valen was raised in violence, it's what he's best at, he will forever be violence and aggression and combat. He's the hunt and he's the predator.

But he's also loving. He's incredibly affectionate and sweet with his love. He is gentle and kind with him. If there will be any salvation for Valen, it will be the heaven he finds in bed with the love of his life. He wants so badly to be good for him. He learns patience for him. And while that violent, aggressive part of Valen that makes up his core being will never leave, he can still be loved. He loves being in conflict and combat, he loves the adrenaline of the fight. But he loves his soulmate even more.

He's human - Valen sucks at boardgames. Valen has plants that he takes care of. He draws and sketches and paints. He loves going to a coffee shop and getting a fancy little sugary drink. He worries about his outfit he put on this morning and if he looks good. He carefully fixes his hair in the morning with pomade only for it to be shaken out when his love winds his fingers in it.

Valen is everything that I've ever wanted to create and he always will be the greatest thing I've ever made. He isn't a self insert, but he still has pieces of my heart and soul within him, woven through him. He's all of the best things I could ever create in one body. I spent hours upon hours on his tattoos, making sure they fit him and they were wholly and entirely his, meaningful to him and his life.

He's saved me more times than I can count. Valen and his siblings and his soulmate, his story and his personality, his plot lines and his past. Is what kept me alive when things were too rough. It's because of Valen, my best boy, that I found my life partner. That I found my best friend. That I found all these people I can call friends. It's all because of him. My life would not have been the way it is right now without him - I would've never found this sort of happiness if I hadn't created him and got the courage to enter the fandom with him.

I love you. I love you so much. I'll never make something so beautiful as Valen and his tattoos and his story ever again.

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

ok before I tweak out and forget how to words:

your writing of quinns character is phenomenal.

this is what I thought quinn was going to be like in the cannon. Give me someone who's absolutely bat shit CRAZY. someone that would warrant this level of fear and who could manage to keep pulling fast ones on tank, who we've all established to be pretty fucking strong. this quinn does his research and hits where it hurts, and he's not gonna keep sending lackeys to do everything for him THIS BITCH IS ON THE SCENE!!! IM SICK. AND THE FUCKING VIDEO??????????????? BAZ???????? IMGOING TO END UP ON THE NEWS IF YOU KEEP THIS UP. I'm not the biggest fan of angst, but even the cannon quinn was too soft for me. i thought he was going to be wayyyy more involved and psycho than just seeing the damage second hand, BUT THE STORY ISNT OVER!!! i trust erik has something devious planned and if he doesn't,,,,, we know we can count on u to fix that

I trust that u, have something even MORE devious planned. I'm scared pls don't hurt me,,,, I would say bc im in your walls but that just seems like bad taste after reading this

TANKFIGHTSCENETANKFIGHTSCENETANKFIGHTSCENE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

u thought i was done? no I yap

I lob fight scenes sm but it reveals sm about characters, tank knows they're tough shit and their endurance sometimes trumps their strength. even as wounded as they were, they still managed to take down a grown ass man mostly through spite, but that need to win or that need to be in control of the fight was strong enough to make them keep going. tank was in hella abusive relationship w quinn (surprise surprise), he clearly had huge control over them - so instead of having the emotional advantage (being able to manipulate, gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss), they got left the physical one. theyre so used to just tough it out that it became the main way they handle everything. IM STILL SICK SOMEONE HELP MY BABY.

and them subconsciously running towards the 10-19 while they were trying to hide or escape or WTV THE FUCK DARLIN YOU DUMB FUCK YOU JUST CONFIRMED THAT THIS PLACE IS A SAFE SPACE FOR U AND YOURE TRYING TO RUN AWAY?????? please please pleeeeaaaassseeeeee talk to david holy shit I'm going crazy

and them only giving out when david grabs them... I'm not even gonna say a damn thing.....it's all right there,,,,,,, what do you want from me

it's 9am what a lovely way to start my day 😙😙

-🦀

CRAB ANON MY FRIEND!!!!!!

I’m so glad you liked this chapter. I was thinking about you when I was posting btw, wondering how you’d like this one. There are a handful of more batshit crazy chapters coming up and I can’t wait to hear your thoughts.

My drive in a lot of my long form fanfics is to amend or at least tailor aspects of canon to my taste. Quinn was an asshole in canon for sure. A literal murderer. And I think we’ll get a further look at that before his time is through, but what I really wanted was a Fight to subdue him in the first place, a struggle to get him out of Darlin’s life. It felt… too easy. And maybe that’s a red herring in canon, but I figured, my story, I’m making him as horrific as he was talked up to be in canon.

You are very correct, Carb Anon. I do have something more devious in store. And nobody- NOBODY is safe.

I’m glad you enjoyed the fight scene!! Honestly I have a hard time writing action in the particular prose that I tend to use in narrative stories, so I tend to use them as vehicles for character exploration. I try to stray away from telegraphing each individual blow and more towards creating a particular ~vibe~ to communicate what I wanted to. If I’m not using the fight scene to achieve a secondary, character purpose, then I’m not putting it in there. I don’t know how many of my readers have been involved in a good old fashioned fist fight, but I think this style of writing them is useful to communicate how they can feel. They’re often very fast, only a few seconds, and a flurry of punches and kicks and yells. It hardly ever has the sort of organization and strategizing that we see in fictional fights. Darlin’ doesn’t fight like an action hero. They fight like an animal trying to survive, and I hope that their narrative through the fight communicated that.

And oh yeah, the relationship with Quinn was very very abusive, although they don’t now and maybe never will see it exactly that way. Darlin’ has a hard time seeing themself as a victim, not because of any pride or anything but because they have a hard time accepting that they can be victimized and not the perpetrator, or at least responsible for the abuse they suffer in some way. So Quinn goes from a sadistic abuser to an “asshole who, yeah, hit them sometimes and burned them and cut them and scarred them, but they gave as good as they got and they probably deserved all that anyway, and what unlucky bastard would ever treat them any better than that?” And he’s still got his roots in them. I think, genuinely, that they still love him in a way. They have a big heart, no matter what they try to portray, and they can’t just turn it off.

And YEAH even if their brain can’t process that they’re safe there, the soft animal of their body does know it, in a deep, subconscious way. And their body also knows that David is safe, safer than most people, safer than they are with themself. They’re running on fumes after the fight and when they reach David their body just goes “oh he’s here? Great. ✌️”

Anyway, can’t wait to deal with the aftermath in the next chapter. Hopefully we’ll have another update soon!! Thanks so much for reading and sending these asks in buddy, they seriously make my day.

[nostalgicamerica]

My Weight-Loss Journey

Over the last three decades, despite a relatively active lifestyle, my weight has steadily increased a pound or two per year. I could see it was becoming a problem every morning in my foggy bathroom mirror.

I finally realized that I had to do something about it last fall when I walked out onto my porch one morning. The neighbor's kitten came over to say good morning and got caught up in my gravitational field and went into orbit around my waistline.

It was then I started looking into different diets. Keto, Caveman, high fat, low carb, lima bean, Atkins. Holy crap! The number of different diet choices were staggering. Greater still were the numbers of dieticians and nutritionists shrieking that this diet is best and only a booger-eater would choose that diet.

After a bit of cogitation, I started researching the Carnivore diet.

It sounded right up my alley: eating nothing but meat, cheese, eggs, and dairy products, and drinking water. And I could eat bacon. Basically, I could eat anything that is animal-based.

The bacon thing sold it for me.

The week before Thanksgiving 2023 I started my new diet plan. You might think that dieting during the holidays wasn't a grand idea, and you'd be right. Eating nothing but meat while watching my family chowing down on traditional holiday meals (turkey and all the fixings for Thanksgiving, and ham and all the fixings for Christmas) and stuffing their faces with cookies and candy and pie and everything else associated with the holidays was as much fun as stuffing a cactus up my rectum.

But I stuck to it.

To this point in my life I had never been disciplined about anything related to food, but somewhere along the way I found the strength to keep anything not indicated by the diet out of my pie hole. (except coffee - I'll be cold, dead, and buried before I stop drinking coffee.)

And the weight came off. 3,4,5 pounds a week. It seemed to literally melting off me. My initial goal was 50 pounds by the end of February and then I'd transition to something more sustainable.

It wasn't easy, at times, especially during the first 2 or 3 weeks. I bought some bite-size sugar free candy to take the edge off for the times when I was jonesing for sugar. And I ate a ton of bacon.

By Christmas Eve I had lost 20.5 pounds. By January's close I had dropped 34 pounds. On January 8th, 2024 I got out of the shower and looked down and saw my penis without a mirror for the first time since about 2003. Also, I could see a six-pack peeking from behind what remains of my belly fat. As of this writing I'm down 39 Pounds. I have a few more days to go, but I don't think I will hit 50. But that's okay.

On March 1st I will start introducing fruits and veggies and whole grains to my diet. I intend to stay away from cane sugar and continue drinking only water.

There have been some negatives along the way. 1. I now abhor the sight of steak. 2. My dog won't stop licking my legs. 3. I have had to go out and buy essentially a new wardrobe.

What I've learned - coupled with portion control - is that 90% of weight loss happens in the kitchen, and the plain fact that bacon makes everything better.

Even though I didn't meet my first goal of 50, I intend to keep going until I've met my ultimate goal of 60. I know I can do it by the end of this year.

I don't know if this will work for everyone; I only relate what I did and what happened. Overall I feel great, I am sleeping great, and my spousal unit says I look better than I have since the beginning of the Clinton administration, although she wants to buy a new car so she may be playing me...

There is enough info about the carnivore diet on the interweb-thingee so I won't add anything else except to say if I can do it, anyone can.

[lulutaylorsimaginarium]

The Chain

Summary: When the guys get stuck in a situation and hunted down by a drug lord. Frankie makes a call he really doesn’t want to make to the only person that can help them

Words:1375

Warnings: “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the right age to handle mature themes. We handle our own triggers with kindness and grace

AN: Mind any grammar mistakes even though the story has been checked. The author is dyslexic and it is the wonders of her brain.

AN2: You guys are surprising me with this weeks poll. I love it though. You have a few more days to vote

XxL

THE CHAIN MASTERLIST

Part Fifteen

Later that day the guys were busy all around and outside the house. She didn’t know what they were doing but she also knew that if they weren’t telling her, maybe she shouldn’t ask. Some things weren’t her business and maybe she didn’t want to know.

She sat on the sofa with a laptop in her lap typing away with the next step of the plan. Gabby just hoped that the plan actually worked. She knew that it was going to take a few trips over time but she was impatient and she wanted to move as much as possible, at least the first time over the boarder

The front door opened before Benny walked in and smiled to her.

“Do you ever get tried?”

“Trust me I am”

“I don’t believe you”.

“Hey?” she asked “When you take the interior panel of a car door off. The door is hollow, right?”

“I mean there is material and like waterproof stuff in there so it doesn’t rust but nothing we can’t take-out” he offered “Muscle cars might be better because of sheer size”.

“Do you just want me to buy you a muscle car. Benny?”

“Yes”

“You’re going to have to sell it again when we get back here”.

“That’s okay. It still a road trip in a hot car”

“Do you want a Camaro?”

“1967!!!!” he told her excitedly.

“It might have to be a beater.”

“Don’t care”

“Done” she agreed.

“You wouldn’t have to buy four the first time out. Buy two, we can do the work on them, and we can send Will and Frankie back to the states. Then buy the other two Pope and I can stay back to do the work.”

“Need time away from your big brother, huh?”

“It’s like I’m still five years old.”

“I’ll buy a Camaro first. How about that?” she chuckled “But, you have to take me for a spin.”

“Absolutely”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Suddenly the front door opened again.

“You’re meant to be sleeping” Santiago scolded her playfully.

“I’m on the couch. I’m not running a marathon.”

“You’re hopeless”

He kissed her on top of the head before she held his hand without even realizing she had reached for it.

“How are the guys?”

“They’re okay”

“What do you guys want for dinner?"

“Food”

“Very helpful. Thank you” she laughed.

She wanted to do it up big. Thanksgivings little sister. A thousand sides and a lot of laughter. Maybe she was trying to fix everything. The mood that was clouding the house. She hated tension. First Gabby and Frankie. Frankie and Santiago and now Will and Benny.

As much as it sounded corny,  she liked a happy family.

An hour later she snuck out of the house and went to the store. She didn’t have much time, but she knew that pizza would be an easy home meal idea. Men liked carbs, right?

#

She somehow snuck out without anyone noticing her going but she was noticed when she came back lugging countless shopping bags up the front steps, Santiago shook his head as she smiled at him. He called her stubborn, she only laughed before moving into the house.

They were happy about it when the sun went down and they came back inside, the house smelt amazing with a feast waiting for them of homemade pizza, bread and salads. Music blaring around them and Gabby busy in the kitchen, with a tea towel hanging off her shoulder, red hair piled up on top of her head.

“How did you make pizza?” Will asked her

“There are two pizza ovens are out the back. One’s wood, one’s electric” she chuckled because clearly none of them had noticed, even though both ovens were pretty big. “You wash up. Everything will be ready soon”.

One by one they did, and everything was on the dining table waiting for them. Gabby however was still busy in the kitchen.

“Reina” Santiago called out “You going to sitting down?”

“In a second”

“We’re not eating down til you sit down” Will told her

They had been around her for long enough to know her well by now. She would have kept going until they were done.

She rolled her eyes and grabbed for bottle of beer out of the fridge and walked over to them. Santiago grabbed her gently by the hips and pop her in the chair beside him before she grabbed a piece of garlic bread

“Hey” Benny protested “That was mine”

She proceeded to lick the piece of bread and hand it over to him “You want it?”

The whole table laughed, including Frankie. Which was surprising.

“You do have brothers” Will smiled

“Dude, my parents had to buy me food to hide in my bedroom. So my brothers didn’t eat it all. Yeah, I have brothers”

They all fell into a happy hum of conversation and laughter, at a level that they hadn’t seen in a while. It was nice without a cloud of friction looming above them.

“You find me a car yet?” Benny teased

“I have. It’s a shit box but the engine is practically new, so it will you from point A to point B”

“Camaro?” She winked at him “I love you”

“How much?” Will asked

“Eighteen”

“It is a shit box” Will laughed

“With two different coloured doors” she chuckled “Which might be a good thing. It wont draw as much attention”

“Take the interior panels out. Put the money in, cover it back up”.

“Will, its like we know each other” she joked

“Don’t forget we have that paperwork that Sebastion made. Pope and I could go find a transit van. Take some 'coffee' through the boarder that way”

“I forgot about that paperwork”

“That way we could all go together” Santiago offered

“One of us should stay behind keep an eye on the rest of the money” she said “My name’s on the deed. It would look weird otherwise”

“You’re not staying here by yourself” Benny told her

“I’m a big girl”

“I’ll stay too” Frankie told them “Just in case”

Frankie and Gabby stared at each other for a few seconds. She would have loved that idea a few weeks ago. Heck, even a few days ago.

Now it made her feel uneasy for some reason.

#

She knew other places had the cook, not clean rule but it didn’t seem right to have the guys clean up after they had been working all day long. They had all gone their own ways as she gave the kitchen one more wipe down and reached for her little orange bottle of pills. She took two and gulped down ice cold water, not knowing there was someone behind her

“What are you taking?”

“Vitamins” she lied.

Frankie snatched the bottle out of her hand quickly. Knowing she was lying through her teeth

“Valium?”

“Oh” she sighed “It’s spelt different, isn’t it?”

“Why the fuck are you taking Valium?”

“Why do you think Frankie?” she sighed softly “I don’t want to fight with you anymore. I don’t have it in me. I know life is crap right now and things are happening that you do not like. I get it, but I still need you”

“Gab”

“Aren’t you tired?”

“Yeah”

“Then why are we doing this, Baby? We’re under the same roof and I fucking miss you. I don’t know how to explain it” she shook her head gently

“I know”

“Then what are we doing?”

“I don’t know”

“Neither do I”

“I just..” he started but he wasn’t sure where to take that sentence “I don’t know”

“Can you figure it out please?” she asked gently “I’m going to bed before these kick in”.

He watched her walk upstairs and disappeared like she has done so many times before. Leaving him alone downstairs with his thoughts

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

HELP I can't stop thinking about this fic: https://www.tumblr.com/mylevisdontfitanymore/689619340309446656?source=share and how maybe after Andy has had his fill and is finally done fucking Ransom he spends the rest of the night pumping him full of more alcohol and food and maybe he spends the entire rest of the cruise out of his mind as Andy's drunken plaything, too stuffed and bloated to move far from the bed without lots of help, too drunk to think about anything but his stomach and how much more of everything he wants and always available for Andy to fuck when he pleases

@achubbydumpling Ransom × Andy dark fic, "A Little Extra: Cruise Ship"

I mean… fucking SAME

I remember when Dumpling first wrote and posted that and we had a lengthy conversation about some darker scenarios for that pairing. So, this chaotic, horny drabble will be heavily inspired by that interaction. Thank you for the inspiration Dumpling, as always ❤️

Unbeta'd, warning for dark Ransom × Andy, intox kink, alcohol consumption, mentioned of past non-con/dub-con, free-use, stuffing, weight gain, humiliation/fat shaming, etc.

Andy can’t honestly be blamed for what he does because… have you seen Ransom? That soft, pale skin and pretty, pink mouth with an especially plump bottom lip; those big blue eyes, most often lit with a challenge and dare; his expensive clothes tailored to fit his body. He’s irresistible normally. But, better yet, have you seen Ransom when he’s drunk and messy? Anyone would do anything to have that rich brat when he’s sloshed.

Drunk Ransom and his fat, round belly full of all the alcohol he’s been downing like it’s water. Andy doesn’t even need to encourage him so much, his greedy nature from growing up in the high life does it for Andy. Ransom simply drains bottles and bottles without caring about anything, not the price of the smooth liquor or spectacle of his expanding waistline, his belly bloating right out of his luxurious, perfectly tailored clothes until he’s so full and round - his skin pulled so impressively taut - that he may as well be a walking keg or even a walking, really waddling, barrel. Almost audibly sloshing with too many drinks. It’s a fucking miracle if Andy lets him walk anywhere, though. His slight exhibitionism, his hunger to see the stares of disbelief at such a huge, sloshed brat, is overridden by the possessive fire inside him to keep Ransom.

He wants to keep Ransom full, bloated and packed to the point that he’s stuck on his back, and he wants to keep Ransom to himself. He wants him as a pet. An obedient pet that will do anything he wants, like, for example, drink another bottle and chase the alcohol with soft, pillowy carbs that will drink the liquid inside him and expand further. Andy wants to get him to the point that his stomach is really struggling, creaking and gurgling with how bloated it is.

Here’s the thing, though: Ransom may come off like a bitch and a brat to everyone after being spoiled his entire life but, he metaphorically (and now literally) has the softest underbelly that Andy who, oppositely, appears to be sweet and doting and soft once as the ideal family man but Andy has this very dark side, hidden from most people he encounters. It’s not hidden from Ransom. That dark side is lured out by Ransom. There’s just… something so irresistible about Ransom. Andy can’t stop himself from taking advantage of Ransom. It’s hardly his fault, though, with how much rich boy is asking for it - stumbling around, drinking, and fixing him with those fiery eyes.

Andy has a habit of only having a few drinks here and there, so he barely gets tipsy when he does drink, and this habit works to his advantage now, leaving him with a near completely clear, sober mind to admire this messy, uncoordinated prince… all doughy and spoiled. He’s never done a damn thing besides sit on his ass. (And, fuck yes, would you look at that! He’s got a fucking fat ass. All shapely. Nice and round and wide. Andy wants to sink his teeth into it.) Besides, Ransom’s rich fat. He takes the time to always work lotion into his skin and wax and get massages and, just, otherwise take immaculate care of himself. So, he doesn’t have any stretch marks anywhere on his body. He only has pale, soft, plump, and doughy fat. He’s lush. Smooth. So easy on the eyes and perfect underhand. No stretch marks anywhere on his soft body… not until he meets Andy.

Andy, as we know, can’t resist and he takes advantage of his pale, unmarred body and claims it for himself. Andy fucks him hard and leaves hickies on his puffy tits, thick thighs, and absolute shelf of an ass but, of course, those bitten-in marks don’t hold a candle to the permanent marks Andy makes on Ransom. Andy will have Ransom to himself. He will keep him. And he will claim what’s his by stuffing and bloating Ransom until he’s literally on the cusp of bursting. Funneling alcohol and liquor and spirts and anything that leaves his sweet mouth loose and slurring into him. Stuffing any kind of food down his throat, too. Watching ethusastically as it all stretches his skin so badly, leaving lengthy, obvious, red marks all over his previously spotless body and ruining his body.

Jesus.

Ruining his body. The thought of being the one to ruin Ransom makes Andy feral like nothing else. It feeds into his darkness, making him only want to stuff him worse and ruin him worse and… it goes on and on.

Ransom gets that way, ruined, by being kept as a little pet for Andy. It goes beyond the cruise. Andy snatches Ransom up and just won’t let him go.

At first, when Ransom surfaces from the night after Andy drugged him and used him when he was so full and sloshing he was fucking pissed at Andy. Seeing red. Seething and baring his teeth. But. Also… damn it, he gets it. Through his pounding headache, waking up entirely naked with his legs spread wide and slutty underneath the weight of his desperately full bladder and still bloated stomach, he comes to the conclusion that he knows that he would’ve done the same if presented with such an opportunity. A poor, little thing wandering the ship bloated and wanting to indulge so badly that they’re willing to go to dinner with a stranger, stuffing themselves, helpless as a baby deer under the drugs slipped into their system… Ransom licks his lips.

Yeah.

He’s equally fucked up.

C’mon, he’s rich - if he sees something he wants, he gets it. It’s that way with people, too, not just things. He could see how if he couldn’t charm or bribe his way into someone’s pants as usual, he might just get them drunk enough that they’re easy and pliable to have what he wants from them. It just so happens that when that was used on him, it unlocked his spoiled hedonism and he couldn’t stop pigging out. So…

He doesn’t blame Andy. He can’t stay mad, even if it feels like he’s pulled a fucking muscle with how big he got (and still is), puffed up tight and round on alcohol and sugar. Rich boy has never been sore before. He’s not familiar. He could be though. It’s achy and throbby and… he kind of likes how it feels. It feels like a job well done. He’s pushed himself so much that he’s made himself sore. Damn.

With Ransom not only not pissed but also into it, they develop A Thing.

Specifically, a relationship based on free use and indulgence.

Andy is the one in control and Ransom is the one giving himself over to be stuffed and fucked and filled. Anything Andy wants to do to him. Anyway Andy wants to fill him. Ransom aches and throbs for it, craving the fullness and heaviness now that he’s had it once - chasing the high.

So, Andy keeps Ransom drunk whenever he doesn’t need to be present in reality for his responsibilities. Which are… what exactly? Ransom doesn’t work, not thanks to that multigenerational wealth, so there are not many times he has to be sober for “responsibilities.” He has a whole fucking team of people managing everything about his life (his “babysitters” according to Andy’s mocking laughter), meaning more than anything else, he’s nice and full. Well. Usually, if he’s how Andy wants him he’s painfully full. Sloshy yet packed tight. His stomach made into a water balloon.

And that’s where most of those stretch marks come from.

Poor baby. He gets all marked up so fast! Aw. 🙄

As established, Ransom has lived the high life since he was born, he’s always been fed the best foods and drinks and hasn’t had to work a day in his life, so he’s always been soft. His slowing teenage metabolism has left him puffy. Not quite yet chubby, but certainly on his way with his problem controlling himself and his appetite for, well, everything. But then Andy comes crashing into his life and feeds him and feeds him and feeds him, and Ransom is growing fatter faster than he ever could’ve on his own. Faster than he ever would’ve dared. Ransom is pretty vain. He wanted to stay in shape and “presentable” but he can’t. He can’t help himself. And Andy sure as hell won’t help him. He’ll just pop the cork to another wine bottle and hand it over, making sure to lift the end of the bottle when Ransom tries to stop and catch his breath. He wants him to down the entire thing. Chug it. Now.

Despite all the alcohol that should give Ransom a solid, hard beer gut, Ransom continues to pack on butter-soft fat. Soft, plush fat that can be felt when he’s not drum-tight from impossibly high levels of fullness.

Andy doesn’t care about Ransom’s pleasure in their arrangement of free use. He only cares about his own. Just like that first night when they encountered each other. He’s focused on himself. Fucking Ransom’s pasty, doughy thighs, then his clenching, tight little hole. Dumping him onto the bed and having his way with him, completely unrestrained.

During bloating and/or stuffing sessions, the pained groans Ransom gives, the way he clutches at his expanding, tight gut desperately, or his attempts to jerk his head away from a new bottle or another spoonful of a rich, decadent dessert do nothing to stop Andy. He can complain and squirm as much as he wants but it’s not gonna change the fact that he’s only done when Andy is satisfied. He’s his pet and his toy. He’s Andy’s to play with and use and ruin however he wants. All the new stretch marks Ransom develops appear seemingly overnight and appear very early on in their arrangement. The marks are dark and intense, his poor skin is literally splitting open with the pressure of all that food and alcohol in his belly. He whines and tries hard to soothe them with lotion and ice and heating packs, but it does nothing. Andy doesn’t care until he does. When he does, it’s because he’s getting off on it. Getting off and splattering them with come.

New stretch marks along with the rapid explosion of buttery soft fat on Ransom’s frame are just more evidence of that little fact… this isn’t about Ransom’s pleasure; it’s about Andy’s.

Andy is shamelessly using him.

Actually, if anything, the stretch marks, groans, whimpers, and visible discomfort, even pain, when Ransom is being used especially roughly turn Andy on. Fuck, look how much control I have over Ransom. Look how willing my rich, bitchy boy toy is to eat for me. Drink for me. Look at how he can’t stop me. Ransom heels. He surrenders. He’s so fucking easy and pathetic and that’s why Andy had to have him that first night, drugging him to get it.

Pathetic and needy.

It’s so easy for Ransom to fall into that mindset of being used up. Ruined. Controlled. He enjoys being Andy’s pet and fuck toy so much. It starts against his will, yeah, but it’s also everything he’s ever wanted. It’s not about his pleasure but… also, it is. He’s being spoiled and taken care of and pampered. He’s nearly always blackout drunk but that’s just a little detail. It doesn’t matter that much, most people in high society have alcohol problems behind closed doors anyway! Andy isn’t doing anything totally terrible. He’s just getting Ransom where he was bound to end up anyway, speed-running the debauchery of being so grossly rich.

Sure, when Ransom is lucid enough to think (a true rarity), he tells himself that he doesn’t want the weight that comes with the indulgence but it has to stay because he can’t separate the two. But, that’s not how it really is. Rich boy is lying to himself. And that’s nothing new.

It’s a lie because he can’t help it when he’s sober, when he’s tipsy, when he’s drunk, when he’s high, anything, he grabs his belly, his thighs, his moobs, any part of his suddenly much fatter body he can reach. He grabs himself. He wants it. He wants to feel it. He wants to see his body jiggle and move as he jerks off or tries to pitifully bounce on Andy’s cock only to find it to be too much work, going back to just lying there with the room spinning, letting Andy do all the heavy lifting. It’s fine. It’s great! Even if he tells himself he “doesn’t like it,” he doesn’t like gaining weight, it doesn’t matter. Andy is forcing him into it. There’s no guilt. Just indulgence. Just pounds piling onto his overburdened frame.

And… with the acceptance that he can’t stop, he’s only going to grow bigger and bigger and bigger until (or if) Andy decides to stop, Ransom is completely, wholly a rich pet. He sits on his ass, never lifting a finger, only getting fatter and fatter. Being fed all day, rolling around and jerking himself off if and when Andy has to leave to go to work or get more groceries or… whatever it is that he still has to do himself because he can’t pay one of his countless personal assistants to do it for him as his pet can. Disgustingly rich and shameless, detached from the everyday person’s lifestyle.

However, their exploitative dynamic gets worse and worse better and better until Andy has Ransom trained to only orgasm when he’s being fed or bloated. It started with Ransom’s love of having anything in his mouth. He’s always enjoyed fingers in his mouth, or cock or pussy in his mouth during sex - coming faster when he has something to occupy his plush lips - but it’s transformed. Andy exploits his oral fixation, perverting it until no matter how much Ransom tries to jerk himself off under his overflowing belly or reaches around his wide blubber to finger himself until he’s shaking, sweating, and whining from the unprecedented hard work, he can’t reach his climax. He can’t come until he’s being fed or bloated. He needs something being forced down his throat! He goes without (a long time for him, a few hours, but a pathetically short amount of time for literally anyone else) until he can’t and he slurs through begging words. Please, please, please, I need sugar! I need carbs! I need fat! I need alcohol! I need to come!

Then…

Andy makes it worse.

He always does.

Worse and worse and worse. Using him. Ruining him.

Andy forces Ransom to go from needing something edible in his mouth to needing his gut to be full, too. He needs something in his mouth and he needs his belly full. He’s so used to constantly being drunk and pigged out that when he isn’t, instinctually, all he’s thinking about is food and alcohol. More. He wants more. He has to be comfortable at his baseline.

And his baseline has become warped to the “comfort” of being painfully full, so packed and tight that new stretch marks are on the way.

Then, and only then, bloated like a beached whale, can he come.

Pathetic.

Also - as if Ransom needs more, the greedy bitch - Andy loves to dress Ransom up in luxury clothes. Andy gets hard from putting him in everything from panties and corsets and stockings and heels to full, classic suits. Slacks. Belts. Waistcoats. Jackets. Always Andy uses Ransom’s money - extensively using the passcodes he gave him to get into his bottomless bank accounts - and then stuffs and bloats him until he bursts out of his brand-new clothes. Immediately ruined and in need of replacement. The expensive fabric is nothing but scraps once they’re done with it. Rips and tears from fat bulging through, buttons missing, popped off from all the pressure, ladders in stretched stockings caused by widening hips and thighs.

And Ransom loves it. Of course, he’s ended up growing out of all his clothes… again. He wants to do it more, too. Please. The greed is on a constant loop in his mind, only intensified when Andy is near, pleading, feed me, feed me, feed me. Feed me! Feed me!

Ransom’s only known indulgence and luxury his entire life. He’s the worst kind of glutton. Always has been.

So it’s really not surprising to anyone from his old life - rich family and stuck-up “friends” - that he’s blown up like a balloon, even if they all make nasty comments about his gain. Unafraid to shame him, mocking him to his face as well as behind his back. Asking him if he really needs to eat all of that when they lunch together. Raising eyebrows when each and every time they see Ransom, he’s in new, larger clothes. Telling him to hurry up when they stroll, and he waddles through the many rooms of a mansion estate or the garden outside, side by side. Pestering Ransom about going to see a doctor because the baby should’ve come a few months ago, shouldn’t it have? Or simply outright telling him that he’s too fat and it’s embarrassing - threatening to cut him off or write him out of wills if he doesn’t slim back down to their expectations. They have standards. They have reputations to uphold. They can’t be seen with such a slob.

A pig.

When they say those terrible things to Ransom’s face, Andy might be comforting... if he feels like it. But usually, he’s demeaning, too.

Ransom lives for it. He gets some shivery enjoyment from people from his own walk of life shaming him, but it’s nothing like the pleasure of having the man who corrupted him shame him and then keep fucking ruining him. It’s the finest kind of head-spinning depravity. Always with some new way to make fun of him…

“Of course, they said that, pet,” Andy drawls, his accent really coming through when he’s turned on. “Did you forget to look in the mirror before you left the house?” He grabs his face and squishes his chubby chin and cheeks, “speaking of… you’re about the size of a house these days,” he grins.

Ransom whimpers at the same time that his tummy growls - it’s far from empty, but, whenever someone talks about his weight, it just makes him hungry. Hungrier. He’s always hungry. You can’t stretch his stomach to the size that it is without a voracious appetite.

Or…

Andy snorts, “can’t blame them for asking who tailors you’re clothes, can you, Rans? No one in high-end fashion makes clothes the size of tents.” He pulls at the soft sweater he’s wearing, the knit thick and making him look even thicker and softer. “They expect their wealthy patrons to know better than regular, working, and middle-class people, pet. They know the rich will stay thinner because they’re vain. That, or, you know, get the fat sucked out of them, going all plastic.”

Ransom moans around the beer bottle between his lips, he doesn’t stop swallowing more of the malty, flavorful drink, though. He can’t stop. Andy is right. There’s so much about the high life that requires so much self-control. Ransom has never had self-control. He can’t. He can’t control himself. He needs more.

Or…

“Aw, pet, were they making fun of you again?”

Ransom nods, pouting.

Andy just sighs, happily satisfied, “telling you you better get your eating under control, hm?”

Again, he nods.

“Imagine that… anyone thinking you are the one in control. You’re just a sweet, brainless little pet. Well. Not little. Not anymore,” he chuckles, and Ransom pants, his gut too heavy on his lungs. “They don’t know I’m the one fattening you up,” he pinches his ass filthily until Ransom squeaks, “this is mine. I fucking built this ass. But they don’t know that, pet. And they don’t even question it. Isn’t that wonderful, piggy? You’re so greedy they don’t even think about foul play. They just assume it’s your nature and you got hugely fat all by yourself.”

Ransom feels hot, his head is spinning again, and his vision is blurry as if he’s been afflicted by a sudden fever. They’re only in the next room over, taking a breather before they go and mingle with more of Ransom’s family. Ransom doesn’t give a fuck about his family (he never really has), but he especially doesn’t give a fuck right now. Right now he wants Andy to feel up his belly and jerk him off. Now. He’s so fucking horny. It’s hard enough to be sober for so long, acutely aware of every pound of fat on him, how he jiggles and moves, without anything to numb him, but when he’s being teased about it, too? Meanly by his family and meanly 🥵 by his fucking owner and feeder?

Fuck.

He’s too fucking hornyyyy.

“You want out of those clothes tonight, pet?” Andy tugs at the straining fabric of his waistcoat, barely holding around his rotund middle, the buttons this close to pulling apart so much that gaps form, exposing his dress shirt underneath.

Ransom nods eagerly, completely breathless at the thought (not that that’s a hard thing to achieve when he’s so severely restricted).

Andy tips his head to the side, indicating a passing server with champagne flukes on their elegantly balanced tray from the corner he’s crowded Ransom into, “then you better start fucking drinking,” he gruffly whispers, lips to his ear.

Ransom moans. Thank God. He’s been miserable sipping on just water all night, trying to be on his best behavior when around others.

“If you pop a button by the time we leave, in front of everyone, then you won’t have to go to bed clothed and aching. If not…” Andy just smirks, “it’s not like you can come without being so fucking grossly stuffed that you burst out of your clothes anyway, so it won’t matter, will it, pig?”

Ransom goes up in flames.

Immediately, he flags down the help and empties the tray of flukes into his keg-belly before waddling back into the middle of the party, unashamedly taking two of everything being passed out by the help. Food and drinks. He has a mission. Make a pig of himself in front of everyone until he pops.