#either an entire scene or the details of a scene

[bellaxgiornata]

random jax thought that i must unleash:

a marilyn monroe ‘Happy Birthday Mr.President’ moment with jax?? i feel like that man would lose his mind tbh

Ohhh! Please unleash any and all Jax thoughts you have! And okay, I read this ask from you the other night and I've been thinking about it nonstop because it gave me another thought, so let me add another little layer onto this with a little headcanon of mine--singing happy birthday to Jax in lingerie.

HEAR ME OUT. I have a strangely strong belief that Jax has little experience being able to appreciate actual lingerie, not just a sexy bra and panties set. Think about it--the man never really did relationships after Tara left just after high school besides marrying Wendy. And Wendy probably spent her money on drugs and alcohol instead of legitimate lingerie because why the hell would she? I'm guessing most hangarounds at the clubhouse weren't dressed in lingerie beneath their clothes because it just doesn't seem logical (and that shit is expensive). Now, maybe some of the pornstars from Caracara could've had some sort of costume or something he'd enjoyed, but considering how we've seen them in 'the morning after' scenes in the show, I'm guessing they wouldn't really be wearing any lingerie, either. Most of Jax's sex is just spur of the moment, which just doesn't go hand in hand with dressing for it, you know?

So I'm throwing some headcanon thots on this out below the cut (clearly 18+ like everything on my blog). It's also an idea I want to explore in far more detail in my Jax fic All That I Can Give with my ex-prostitute!Reader who works at Diosa. Because I just want Jax to have some fun with lingerie, alright? I genuinely believe he hasn't had the pleasure of something so simple.

Jax is not the kind of guy who would make a big deal out of his birthday. In fact, he probably forgets it every year. And the guys at the clubhouse probably do, too. It comes and goes like every other damn day to him and he doesn't even think twice about it.

Except you do. Because you wouldn't forget his birthday. You've been planning an evening at home with him when he's finally done dealing with club business for over a week now. And maybe it's not some massive birthday party that you're throwing for him, and you don't have any expensive gift to give him, but you do have something you're wanting to do--surprise him with lingerie.

You're already dressed in it waiting in the bedroom when he comes home, a nervous excitement flooding you the moment you hear him cut the engine on his bike before you hear the front door open a minute later. And then you hear Jax's usual "Where you at, baby?" greeting you from down the hall before you call out from the bedroom.

The moment Jax sees you sitting on the end of the bed, legs crossed in the sexy number you have on with a cake in your lap, his entire demeanor shifts. The tension and exhaustion from his day just disappears from his body instantly and a devilish grin spreads across his mouth instead. His eyes slowly and openly rake over you in clear approval because "Goddamn, baby, where did this little thing come from?"

And when you tell him you bought it just for his birthday, making him sit down on the bed as you set the cake aside on the dresser--where, let's be real, it's going to be forgotten for quite awhile--Jax is practically salivating as his hands keep pawing at you. He's grabbing at your ass and your thighs, your breasts and your back. His eyes don't even know where the hell to focus, just continually roaming all over you as he thinks about how he wants to have you first in that damn thing.

But when you start singing happy birthday to him, sitting down in his lap on the bed, neither of you give a shit whether you can actually sing well or not. Jax is already half-hard, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he waits for you to finish--but he can't even manage that. You don't even get all the way through singing before he's spinning you on his lap to straddle him, his hands and mouth exploring every inch of you like it's the first time all over again.

You can damn well guarantee you won't be leaving the bedroom for the rest of the night. Jax is going to have you over and over in every goddamn position he can fold you into just so he can appreciate every angle of your body in that lingerie set. "Fuck, baby, you're not taking this off tonight. I'm gonna fucking ruin you in it."

[revserrayyu]

3.1 Amphoreus thoughts [part 1]

***Spoilers ahead*** for everything covering the first trial, the fight at the grove and the quick bathhouse scene after, so don’t read any further if you haven’t finished. At the time of writing this I’ve completed the full story quest so be wary if I mention any details that may happen later.

Having us start off with Mydei’s pov and allowing us to use him in a couple fights was so cruel, if only because I spent quite a while getting distracted by his presence and simply admiring his.. everything. His voice actor did such a fabulous job this patch too.

I think it’s kinda endearing how fond his is of his mother and so ready to defend her at any moment. His father on the other hand, not so much.

So, it turns out it really was him that Phainon went ahead and “stabbed.” I figured it was during the trail, but the silhouette threw me off a bit so there were times I thought he was maybe just fighting himself instead.

No harm done however, not because Mydei is immortal or this whole fight is dreamlike, but because Phainon didn’t really hit him.. or Mydei blocked it off to the side. Either way, it’s something I didn’t while watching but yeah, it’s clear that sword didn’t even slice him.

I know people have their concerns when it comes to Aglaea, but the more plotting we hear of her off to the side, the more I enjoy her. I mean, it’s not entirely bad to believe that Phainon would fail his trail sense it just makes more sense for Mydei to own the coreflame of Strife given his lore.

On a less serious note, seeing him chat with some of the kids at the bathhouse and sorta scolding them from being away from their parents was cute. Who knew our tough king could be good with kids? This makes the whole situation of the 3.1 banners kinda funny since we got this tall, strong and handsome as heck man running alongside being Tribbie, Yunli & Huohuo, who are all on the smaller side.

I gotta say that whomever was voicing Mydei’s mother totally nailed it. The anger in her voice was spot on.

No offense to Castorice, but if I woke up and had literal death staring right back at me, I’d be terrified and probably pass out again right there. But huzzah, the notorious Penacony question makes its return.

ot gonna lie, but I’m actually quite pleased with Hyacine’s model. I didn’t have any strong opinions from the few teasers we saw of her previously, but she’s real cute in-game. She’s 100% gonna be an Abundance unit though, yeah? There’s no way a nurse could be anything else.

The amount of hate I see for Mem simply because the thing is pink is wild. I’m starting to enjoy them more and more and I always love catching whenever they’re able to actually speak words.

I can’t wait to learn more about whatever kind of history there is between Aglaea and Anaxa. We see them interact very briefly towards the end of the patch, where he forgets she’s even around and her thinking of him as an annoying child, so the tension is definitely there. I can only imagine how many times she threatened to end him if she treats Anaxa worse than us.

Well, too bad! Rules are made to be broken, ANAXA.

The way they worded this moment of disappointment was funnier to me than I could’ve anticipated.

It must be because the scholarly type of vibe I get with Dr. Ratio, but I originally thought Anaxa was going to be this self-centered guy, but at least he cares enough to put himself at risk for everyone else at the grove. With the mention of alchemy before and “equivalent exchange” now, I can’t help but think of FMA.

So we saw this image last patch too but it’s clearer now that Cyrene was killed by the Flame Reaver. It’s fair to assume she was a Chrysos Heir because of the golden blood, yea?

I know death is Castorice’s whole gimmick and her primary weapon is a scythe, so I wasn’t really expecting some ooze/poison/whatever we’re calling this stuff to appear. If it was shown in a previous trailer, then I don’t remember. Also love how we cycle through all our weapons. We saw the lance earlier while fighting alongside Mydei, we see us pulling out the feather-pen and Mem later on, and now we have our trusty bat back with us.

The Flame Reaver takes no time sending some powerful slashes our way, knocking everyone back in pain and we somehow manage to get those close to Castorice, even holding her up, without triggering her deadly curse? That’s concerning.

I’ve seen her combat, I’ve heard about the passive and I know Castorice is gonna be such a broken unit.. but I just don’t have it in me to pull when her banner drops next patch. She just.. doesn’t appeal to me at all? I enjoyed her more this patch than in 3.0, but that’s it. I see all the purple, the butterflies and the scythe and it just makes me miss Seele more, so to heck with meta, I wanna pull for my favorites! (I regret not pulling for her back in 1.4 each and every darn day.)

I know Cerces was sorta controlling Anaxa here and giving him some extra power to damage the Flame Reaver, but this arrogant smirk is doing something to me. Although Erudition units are probably my favorite, do I really need another wind dps if my E3 Feixiao exists? Who knows.

I remember last patch they said that Trianne only had enough power to launch a couple more century gates, so you bet I got hella nervous whenever a new one was opened. She really came in clutch to save us though.

Returning to the holy city and informing people that their relatives perished during the attacks at the grove was rough, but I’m like 95% sure this old man was voiced by the same dude who did Tiernan back in Penacony.

I like that they do mention the contact we made, but it’s a shame we don’t delve much into how we managed to survive holding death’s favorite daughter in our arms. I suppose there’s plenty time to learn more about this girl next patch when her banner drops. It’s bound to happen again anyway, so long as that one scene of Castorice coming to shield us with open arms in the Nameless Faces trailer actually happens.

Well, I’m so incredibly glad you had some quiet time to yourself without any life threatening chaos to deal with, Dan Heng.. how about next time you take the lead hm?? I volunteer you to be the protagonist next patch.

To think they would hold a silly challenge to see who would stay in the hot baths the longest right after returning from Phainon’s failed trial. It’s even better hearing how he claims Mydei only won because the guy is wearing less clothing.

Sorry to say this but I haven’t a clue on what y’all see with Aventurine and Ratio, but this is a guy pairing that I can get behind. The bickering these two constantly have going on and their endless competitive rivalry is fantastic.

And we’re gonna stop here for now. I think I’m good for only two more posts. Thankfully this parch seemed shorter than 3.0 and I can get a head start on jotting everything down sooner since I actually took a day off of work. (yes it’s because I was excited for Pokemon Day.)

[businesstiramisu]

there's also guys like Dave Green and Therin of Andor who started as one fan's creation but got picked up by canon. exciting!

Where it gets tricky is where the character in some sense "existed" in canon first.

In visual canons you've got characters like Tumbler (Newsies) or Figwit (LOTR) or Tanabi (Lion King) that appear in the background of scenes with no actual information, so fans made up their own. And sometimes the Powers That Be filled in canon info later ("Figwit is actually an elf named Aegnor"; "that lion cub fans started calling Tanabi is actually Kopa...or Kion... or Kiara") -- but sometimes fans ignore TPTB and stick with the fanon-- or develop new fanon ("Figwit, you mean Melpmomaen?" or "Brett MacKenzie later played Lindir in The Hobbit movies, so maybe Figwit and Lindir are the same guy").

in written canons, you get characters like Musichetta from Les Mis or Daphne Greengass from Harry Potter, where they get mentioned by name and there's *some detail* (Musichetta is so-and-so's mistress; Daphne was a Slytherine at Hogwarts, probably in the same year as Harry) but fandom has invented SO MUCH MORE. These are usually called blank slate characters.

then of course in video games, player characters usually are this by design. I think this generally leads to less cohesion within the fandom because every player is more or less makign their own version of the character, but sometimes you still get trends -- e.g. I've heard that in BG3 there's some popular Fanon Tavs that have fandom followings in their own right.

(what about podcast fandoms, where characters might have very extensive canon backstories and characterizations but visual discriptors, so fans have to make up their own headcanons there?)

Where is the line between "blank slate" and "fanon character"?? How much "prior canon content" disqualifies a character from being "fanon" (what about characters like Draco Malfoy who have quite a lot of canon info & characterization, but sometimes fans make up something else entirely* -- see also Dark!Harry or TINO, plenty more examples of course). What about characters that were initially blank slate but get more canon filled in by later installments, like Hux, who now stars in his own novel, or MCU MJ, who became a much more prominent character in the sequels to Homecoming? (Frankly, taking a look at our list on fanlore I think you could argue a lot of these.) What about situations like Matt the Radar Technician, where an SNL skit about Kylo Ren got spun off by fans as a character in his own right?

===

Fanlore unofficial policy is that Blank Slate characters don't go in the Fanon category (so Musichetta or Daphne Greengrass or Marlene McKinnon are not in there**). But you'll notice that's not followed by everyone -- e.g. the category currently contains ton of Newies characters or Wes (Danny Phantom) who have as much canon content as Figwit.*** So, uh, make your best judgement, I guess, and put a note on the Talk page for help if you want second opinions.

===

*Incidentally, I was aware of this TVTropes page looong before I got into FF7, and now that I've gotten into reading fic (and also watched a letplay of the entire OG game) I am confused by the demonstration image with Sephiroth. Like okay maybe I just haven't seen much of what the pink image is gesturing and I'm substituting what I've mostly seen in fic but it doesn't seem that far outside plausible based on what little we see in the OG game. Well mostly it's the OG game barely does give him any characterization outside of "ominous laughter" and "enjoys tormenting Cloud". Is... is Sephiroth a blank slate character?!?! Surely not.

**Not sure what it says (if anything) that all my examples are female here -- probalby only something about me. I considered mentioning some of the men from that Fanlore list but it's mostly either fandoms I'm unfamiliar with or characters that I would contest (Otabek Altin?!?!? REALLY?!)

***okay i just added Figwit to the Fanon Characters category on the basis of writing this argument lol

Are ocs made for peoples fanfics allowed to be on fanlore?

((im writing one on here//a03 and ill tag u if you want heh))

Not generally no. The only exceptions is if an OC becomes so well known or influential in a fandom that they appear in several fanworks by several people, and knowing that context would be important for that fandom's history.

[fideidefenswhore]

Really liked your ask comparing alison weir's book excerpts to that of historians, do you have any other examples like that?

this one?

and sure, again, the important thing to remember is that pop history is digestible and straightforward; but that this doesn't make it 'better'. the genre is dependent on a misapplication of the adage, 'when you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras' to any single primary source. a better rule of thumb to go by would be that 1) where there is a general consensus by a variety of sources, and a single aberrant, it's reasonable to assume the former was true (rather than a conspiracy that only the aberrant has 'outsmarted')-- or, at the very least, widely believed to be true --, and 2) where there is a total contradiction between sources, it's reasonable to assume that the truth lies somewhere in between.

pop history also deals in truisms that do not allow for the complexity of history, nor the people of history: that praise was either always genuine, exaggerated, or disingenuous, that invective always reflected fact and complete understanding, and was never motivated by self-interest, that self-fashioning always reflected truth. as such, it does not give space for individuation and it assumes homogeneity.

this is the comfort and the insidiousness of pop history: the neophyte reader often feels that the scales have dropped from their eyes, that they have been privy to the unwrapping of the mysteries of the universe for the low, low price of £2.99...when, in reality, what they have read is merely a summation of primary and secondary source quotes with no true interrogative research and nothing approaching historical methodology, with some narrative fashioning and paraphrase techniques threaded throughout.

since you asked, i'll continue to use weir as the exemplar of these contrasts (which i'll get to, i promise, scroll down for that part if you want to reach it first, it'll be cued in red): i'm not a 'fan', but i won't diminish her efforts by denying that these books are her life's work in the sense of how much time and effort she must have put into every single one, in reading, in research, and in writing (six wives of henry viii, her first, alone had 656 pages, so did her likely second most popular, henry viii and his court, her book children of henry viii was 385 pages, her biographical books on the boleyns alone, lady in the tower and the mistress of kings, a collective 900, so altogether of her most popular that's...2593 pages, and bestselling, no mean feat...but it continues, 366 from her katherine swynford biography, 494 pages from "she-wolf of france", 640 pages of her mqos biography, 544 pages of her elizabeth i biography, 336 of her book about the princes in the tower, 441 for her biography of eleanor of aquitaine, and her book about the wotr, at 512 pages, clocks us in at 5560 pages from 1991-2010).

but there's a reason weir's published fifteen nonfiction books since 1991, and there's a reason twice as many degreed historians (the 'power couple' of john guy and julia fox), despite their collaborative efforts, together have published a comparable volume only within a much longer amount of time (if we limit to the above timeline of 1991-2010, we have his mqos biography of 574 pages, his biography of margaret roper at 448 pages, the tudors: a very short introduction at 128 pages, and julia fox's dual biography of catherine of aragon and joanna of castile at 464 pages, her biography of jane boleyn at 416 pages, clocking in at 2030 pages total...again, for perspective, this is the output of two historians in the same twenty years as a single pop historian, drafts of their upcoming books notwithstanding, they probably existed in some format, somewhere, unready for publication); and the reason is that the process of historical methodology and rigorous research takes much, much more time (not to mention, expertise...) than the process of pop history.

As a non-fiction author, I write 'popular' history. The term has sometimes been used in a derogatory sense by a few people who should know better, because all historians use the same sources. History is not the sole preserve of academics, although I have the utmost respect for historians who undertake new research and contribute something new to our knowledge. History belongs to us all, and it can be accessed by us all. And if writing it in a way that is accessible and entertaining, as well as conscientiously researched, can be described as popular, then, yes, I am a popular historian, and am proud and happy to be one.

let's say i'm not going to quibble with the generalizing, obfuscating statement of "all historians use the same sources" (is alison weir accessing archives directly? is she fluent in the languages of these sources in their original form, or is she relying on the translations of others? is she making any attempt at all to research and integrate various sources of the same events??); and for argument's sake, let's say i accept it at face value. for argument's sake, that brings me back to my earlier point: what weir's readers are accessing is a narratively entertaining summary of primary and secondary source quotes with no true interrogative research or historical methodology behind the narrative. as such, it is often teleogical and presentist. they are accessing something they anyone could recreate with their own "voice", so long as they have the same list of quotes, verbatim and paraphrased, that they could putty their own narrative cohesion in between: so long as they had the free time, the financial support, the skill, the will, the interest, the drive, the discipline and the stamina.

"history belongs to us all", yes! "history can be accessed by us all", i really wish that were true, but it isn't, not entirely. that's not me 'gatekeeping', that's me acknowledging that there are sources and books not everyone has access to, quite unfortunately. not everyone can visit museums or historical sites or archives or universities in person (whether due to cost, or disability, or both), not every book or article can be accessed without university (library) access or at quite great financial cost, even in the case of academic papers that have been made available on open access websites, some might be in a language the reader is not fluent in, and the translation either does not exist, or is not open access... not every library will have every paper, book, or access to online archives that the researcher is searching for, not every library has an ILL (interlibrary loan) program.

at least two of her most popular books were published before the advent of wikipedia, but there is, again, a reason that many chapters from many of her books read like expanded versions of wikipedia articles. they read as encyclopedic 'everyman's' entries because that is what they are, subjectivity masquerading as objectivity. anyone can have a point of view, but a pov alone does not make a work "conscientious". her usage of 'conscientous' as a self-descriptor is rather revealing in and of itself, because my impression is that she is referring to her own writing as being driven by her personal conscience, rather than any prevalent ethical standards that define the 'conscientious historian' within the professional study of history:

Q: Is it not the case that testimonies can be manipulated and distorted to serve certain interests? If so, what critical tools must we avail ourselves of to unmask such manipulation? A: In order to answer this we must refer to the epistemological structure of historical knowledge. The fundamental objective of a good historian is to enlarge the sphere of archives, that is, the conscientous historian must open up the archives by retrieving traces which the dominant ideological forces attempted to suppress.

(brief interruption here to offer my own commentary specific to the subject: a huge drawback of tudor pop history, not unique to weir, but imo, is that it acknowledges protestantism as an-- eventual, and sometimes, arguably, prescientally early-- dominant ideological force, and does not regard catholicism as a dominant ideological force in the same way...even during mid-henrician, edwardian, and elizabethan eras, catholicism was the dominant ideological force of 'christendom', at the very least, even if not in england...& at risk of losing forest for the trees, i'd also argue protestantism /= henrician anglican supremacy/caesaropapism, but i digress...)

[con't] [...] In admitting what was originally excluded from the archive, the historian initiates a critique of power. [...] The historian opposes the manipulation of narratives by telling the story differently and by providing a space for the confrontation between opposing testimonies. We must remember, however, that the historian['s] [...] [condition] dictates that we can never be in a state of pure indifference. The historian's testimony is not completely neutral, it is selective activity [...] it is, however, far less selective than the testimony of the dominant [...] Here we should invoke [the need for] 'reflective equilibrium' [...] between predominantly held beliefs and the findings of critical minds represented by professional people such as historians. Such a mechanism helps us distinguish good from bad history.

so, what is highlighted, well...weir fails to acknowledge any of this, nor does has she (and arguably, has never, or at the most generous i could be, rarely) practice any of this, and i'm about to demonstrate an example...

(if you've read this far, you're a real one, bcus i am finally going to delve into a specific, parallel example, like the former ask:

"In October 1535, Cromwell brought the King devastating news: Tunis had fallen to the Emperor, and the Turks had been crushed. Chapuys told his master that Henry and Anne looked 'like dogs falling out of a window", so distressed were they by the news. As if this was not bad, enough [...] Anne was blamed [for the bad harvest and bad weather] by the common people [...] It was not a happy homecoming when Henry and Anne ended their progress at Windsor on 26 October [1535]." The Six Wives of Henry VIII, by Alison Weir

so, let's break this down: although citations would have made an easier flow, weir has, at least, done right by at least integrating and specifying the source for the first claim: "chapuys [wrote to charles v] that [this had happened". let's examine that primary source:

"Remarks on the Emperor's military achievements. The English are much pleased at his victory, in accordance with the incredible affection which they almost all bear to him; except the King, the concubine, Cromwell, and some of their adherents, who, as a man whom he sent to the Court reports, are astounded at the good news, like dogs falling out of a window. Cromwell could hardly speak." Chapuys to [Granvelle]. 13 Sept [1535]. Vienna Archives.

is this the entire story? is this more than one angle? it's not even really an exhaustive summary, weir hones in on the reactions of henry&anne (rather than the reactions of cromwell and 'their adherents') to underline the conclusion of the summary: "it was not a happy homecoming...[for] henry and anne". it's clear that it's a partially redacted image, because as the excerpt from weir's book continues, she continues to adhere to the single source in question. i'll discuss and expand on others once i've done the comparison between her summary and the relevant report for the second highlighted piece:

"The said ambassador expressed his astonishment to me at the English being still allowed to import corn from Flanders. This, he said, would not be tolerated in France under the circumstances. My own opinion is that the affair ought to be looked into, inasmuch as the harvest here has been very poor, and people begin to murmur. The King and his concubine, who formerly had it preached from the pulpit that God favoured particularly the English by sending them fine weather, have it said now that, "whom God loves, He chastises."" + "This would be the best time [to invade England], while the people is provoked by the great cruelties daily committed and the worse than tyrannical extortions practised on Churchmen, the expulsion of monks and nuns from their cloisters, and, most of all, the famine which threatens to prevail in consequence of the bad harvest, all which is imputed to the bad life and tyranny of the King."

well...again, this is all very interesting. as weir states, chapuys reports harvest is poor, the weather is poor, and that 'people begin to murmur' at these happenings... but he doesn't specify, actually (at least in relation to the bad harvest and weather), that it's anne boleyn who's blamed by the people. actually, what he specifies here is that the famine is imputed by them to the "bad life and tyranny of the king", not the queen (or, as he names her, 'concubine'); it's reasonable to assume that 'the concubine' is part of the 'bad life' they're condemning, but she's not specifically stated as the cause of the 'murmuring', it's henry viii's actions that are (and, it makes sense that he's pushing this, because it's an uprising against henry specifically that he's promoting, here).

so, what was happening here when weir wrote this? imo, a classic case of confirmation bias. i don't think weir actually was reading quotes from the archives, i think she was reading their summaries, as given in the divorce of catherine of aragon, by james anthony froude:

"The harvest had failed; and the failure was interpreted as a judgment from Heaven on the King's conduct. So sure Chapuys felt that the Emperor would now move that he sent positive assurances to Catherine that his master would not return to Spain till he had restored her to her rights. Even the Bishop of Tarbes, who was again in London, believed that Henry was lost at last. The whole nation, he said, Peers and commons, and even the King's own servants, were devoted to the Princess and her mother, and would join any prince who would take up their cause. The discontent was universal, partly because the Princess was regarded as the right heir to the crown, partly for fear of war and the ruin of trade. The autumn had been wet: half the corn was still in the fields. Queen Anne was universally execrated, and even the King was losing his love for her. If war was declared, the entire country would rise."

that would be my assessment of this particular excerpt: it's froude that connected the 'murmurings' about the bad weather and poor harvest to anne being 'universally execrated', and it's weir, using froude as a source, that followed suit. there's the flavor of "the king was losing his love for her", asw, even if not explicit ("it was not a happy homecoming for henry and anne"...speaking of, let's see what historians say about that specific period of time in reference, post-progress, late 1535:

"Henry and Anne’s marriage doesn’t seem to have been on the rocks [at this point][…] In the autumn and winter of 1535, they were constantly described as being ‘merry together’, which is probably [when] Anne conceived […]" Suzannah Lipscomb

"Secondly, Chapuys' gossip must bet set against the far greater weight of evidence that shows that Henry and Anne were often happily together and that despite occasional outbursts, their marriage seemed set to last. On many occasions the king and queen were reported as merry, notably in October 1535 [...]"

Power and Politics in Tudor England: Essays by G.W. Bernard

weir doesn't examine the context and various sources about henry being informed of charles v's victory at tunis, nor does she here interrogate the authority and credibility of chapuys as a source. but, luckily, for the purposes of this ask, an accredited historian, does:

"Additional information came from the most varied sources, such as Joan Batcok, a resident in the empress’ court in Spain, who obtained copies of letters from Charles V to the viceroy of Navarre and sent them to her uncle, John Batcok, who forwarded them (and the copy of a letter from the bishop of Palencia) to Cromwell on 5 August, along with details he had gleaned from talking to men already back from the North African war.[...] Chapuys was ignorant of all this. [...] It was not until 14 August that Chapuys learnt of what he called the glorious and most important victory in La Goleta from the imperial ambassador in France, and sent a courier to Henry VIII with the news. There was no public audience where it could be publicised. Henry VIII gave the envoy some money as customary, and sent a deer he had hunted to the ambassador, which was interpreted as a sign of his great pleasure.

Later Chapuys found out that Henry VIII had already known of the emperor’s success and had neither celebrated it or shared the information. In fact, the king distanced himself as far as possible without breaching protocol. He instructed Cromwell to relay his «pleasure» at the emperor’s success and Cromwell did so in writing rather than in person. By contrast, when they heard that the French ambassador had news of the meeting between Mary of Hungary and Leonor, he was summoned to speak with the king and taken hunting [...]

The king again instructed Cromwell to give him some money and to inform Chapuys that he could not have been more delighted with the victory if it had been his own, and that he congratulated the emperor warmly. On 10 September Cromwell transmitted the message in writing. The offense was so patent, Chapuys reported the bare facts and commented bitterly: «God knows how much more he would have given [the envoy] for contrary news». According to the envoy, however, the reaction of the English king and courtiers to the news was extreme. He claimed that Cromwell had been left speechless, and the English courtiers so astonished and dismayed he thought they resembled a pack of dogs falling out of a window. Chapuys contrasted this with the rejoicing of «the English people» outside the court who loved Charles V. The king and his court remained inaccessible to Chapuys, who persevered by sending information. He had to be content with polite letters from Cromwell informing him that Henry VIII was «very interested» in the details, and that some of the accounts were so vivid Cromwell could almost imagine himself there.

It took repeated demands from the ambassador before even Cromwell agreed to meet him - on 13 October [1535]. Even then, it took place late in the day and in private. Chapuys’s disappointment is reflected in his comment that he hoped Henry VIII would be punished for «his impious folly and dishonourable joy at the descent of Barbarossa on Naples and at Tunis [in 1534]». To add insult to injury, false rumours spread that Charles V had written friendly letters to Henry VIII during the campaign and entrusted him with the defence of the Low Countries. Worse still, the victory made no difference to Henry VIII’s policy, nor did it ameliorate his treatment of the Catholics or of Queen Katherine and princess Mary, as the imperialists had hoped. Indeed its impact was negative: it heightened fears that Charles V would now attack Henry VIII, as the English Catholics were urging him to do. Katherine thanked God for «the great victory» and the emperor’s safe return because he could now devote himself to relieving the suffering of English Catholics, not least herself and Mary. It was not only the emperor’s covert enemies but his closest relatives and supporters in England who called into question the value of his victory. Chapuys urged Charles V to devote his efforts to saving Catholicism in England which was his duty and more meritorious than anything he had done in Africa. Some English Catholics publicly stated that helping them and organising a general Council of the Church were «more praiseworthy deed(s) than the conquest of Tunis, and more necessary than the recovery of the lands of Christendom from the Turk». Princess Mary, having praised his triumph in the «holy expedition», complained that he had clearly failed to understand the gravity of the situation in England since he had chosen to fight in Tunis. He must rectify now and do this service to God in England in order to gain «no less fame and glory to himself than in the conquest of Tunis or the whole of Africa»."

«NO GREAT GLORY IN CHASING A PIRATE». THE MANIPULATION OF NEWS DURING THE 1535 TUNIS CAMPAIGN, María José Rodríguez-Salgado

i wanted to offer up that broader, overarching context, but to settle back into the report weir offered uncritically: the broad timeline of events is that chapuys informed henry of charles v's victory in august, to which henry sent him money and a gift. he informs him again, weeks later, to which henry sends him his congratulations, and money, again. chapuys then claims (to granvelle, charles v's advisor) that henry (who already knew about it) was shocked by the (second) message, and cromwell (who already knew about it) was too stunned to speak.

[poorlittleyaoyao]

I need someone to look me in the eye and tell me to lower my standards vis à vis writing quality. Please. I am begging.

[saetoru]

anon that sent me the ask about the geto fics being similar—yes :,) i agree they were eerily similar :,) so i did message the person to handle it privately and they’ve agreed to take it down so thank you for bringing that to my attention :,)

​sorry to make a vague post ab this on dash but i wanted to address it to the anon so they were acknowledged

[mkstrigidae]

Apparently, the solution to my APWH writer's block was just opening up a new word document and rewriting the whole damn next chapter.

[vullcanica]

@nightmarecountry : “God, you’re like a fancy dinner plate that you don’t wanna budge off the edge of the table.” (I'm sorry dan)

It's usually meant as a compliment, he's found. The way people look at him and think of rare, pretty, cold things by way of comparison. He's learned to accept it without much complaint, learned to gratify it when someone's tone dips saccharine and their flattery turns demeaning. Pearl, painting, plate. Proper perfect Perkins.

He's been called a thing before, in as many words as one could manage.

He's never been called fragile.

Doesn't expect to sting as much as it does, his skin assumedly thicker to the sentiment but, by god, this man - this creature or thing, whatever it is which does not seem to breathe and whose eyes clack enamel behind their shades - he makes it sound affronting. His tone lilts southern, mawkish and cloying, almost sticky-slurred from all the wretched saliva gathered just behind bared teeth, and Daniel's skin prickles. The gravel rumble pitch unnerves where it should charm, eerie in its artificiality like a distorted record. Like a predator growl. There's something wrong and enchanting and infuriating about it all.

You don't know the half of it, he thinks, suddenly, oddly possessed by an urge to defy the assumption. To commit the debasement of gracing a farce with answer. He should leave instead. Run. But disdain is a mighty root and the scowl cannot be helped when Daniel looks at him from beneath heavy brows - luciferian with anger too polite to become fury. His lips curl to stave off a rude tone. He thinks he ought to snarl but can't justify the reaction.

"I think you'll find.. I've weathered worse than a 'budge'."

[s-soulwriter]

Things Real People Do in Dialogue (For Your Next Story)

Okay, let’s be real—dialogue can make or break a scene. You want your characters to sound natural, like actual humans talking, not robots reading a script. So, how do you write dialogue that feels real without it turning into a mess of awkward pauses and “ums”? Here’s a little cheat sheet of what real people actually do when they talk (and you can totally steal these for your next story):

1. People Interrupt Each Other All the Time In real conversations, nobody waits for the perfect moment to speak. We interrupt, cut each other off, and finish each other's sentences. Throw in some overlaps or interruptions in your dialogue to make it feel more dynamic and less like a rehearsed play.

2. They Don’t Always Say What They Mean Real people are masters of dodging. They’ll say one thing but mean something totally different (hello, passive-aggressive banter). Or they’ll just avoid the question entirely. Let your characters be vague, sarcastic, or just plain evasive sometimes—it makes their conversations feel more layered.

3. People Trail Off... We don’t always finish our sentences. Sometimes we just... stop talking because we assume the other person gets what we’re trying to say. Use that in your dialogue! Let a sentence trail off into nothing. It adds realism and shows the comfort (or awkwardness) between characters.

4. Repeating Words Is Normal In real life, people repeat words when they’re excited, nervous, or trying to make a point. It’s not a sign of bad writing—it’s how we talk. Let your characters get a little repetitive now and then. It adds a rhythm to their speech that feels more genuine.

5. Fillers Are Your Friends People say "um," "uh," "like," "you know," all the time. Not every character needs to sound polished or poetic. Sprinkle in some filler words where it makes sense, especially if the character is nervous or thinking on their feet.

6. Not Everyone Speaks in Complete Sentences Sometimes, people just throw out fragments instead of complete sentences, especially when emotions are high. Short, choppy dialogue can convey tension or excitement. Instead of saying “I really think we need to talk about this,” try “We need to talk. Now.”

7. Body Language Is Part of the Conversation Real people don’t just communicate with words; they use facial expressions, gestures, and body language. When your characters are talking, think about what they’re doing—are they fidgeting? Smiling? Crossing their arms? Those little actions can add a lot of subtext to the dialogue without needing extra words.

8. Awkward Silences Are Golden People don’t talk non-stop. Sometimes, they stop mid-conversation to think, or because things just got weird. Don’t be afraid to add a beat of awkward silence, a long pause, or a meaningful look between characters. It can say more than words.

9. People Talk Over Themselves When They're Nervous When we’re anxious, we tend to talk too fast, go back to rephrase what we just said, or add unnecessary details. If your character’s nervous, let them ramble a bit or correct themselves. It’s a great way to show their internal state through dialogue.

10. Inside Jokes and Shared History Real people have history. Sometimes they reference something that happened off-page, or they share an inside joke only they get. This makes your dialogue feel lived-in and shows that your characters have a life beyond the scene. Throw in a callback to something earlier, or a joke only two characters understand.

11. No One Explains Everything People leave stuff out. We assume the person we’re talking to knows what we’re talking about, so we skip over background details. Instead of having your character explain everything for the reader’s benefit, let some things go unsaid. It’ll feel more natural—and trust your reader to keep up!

12. Characters Have Different Voices Real people don’t all talk the same way. Your characters shouldn’t either! Pay attention to their unique quirks—does one character use slang? Does another speak more formally? Maybe someone’s always cutting people off while another is super polite. Give them different voices and patterns of speech so their dialogue feels authentic to them.

13. People Change the Subject In real life, conversations don’t always stay on track. People get sidetracked, jump to random topics, or avoid certain subjects altogether. If your characters are uncomfortable or trying to dodge a question, let them awkwardly change the subject or ramble to fill the space.

14. Reactions Aren’t Always Immediate People don’t always respond right away. They pause, they think, they hesitate. Sometimes they don’t know what to say, and that delay can speak volumes. Give your characters a moment to process before they respond—it’ll make the conversation feel more natural.

Important note: Please don’t use all of these tips in one dialogue at once.

[girlygguk]

NOT IN THAT WAY | JJK (m)

summary in which you're hopelessly in love with your best friend, min yoongi. meanwhile, your other best friend, jeon jungkook, is hopelessly in love with you.

★ based on this request ★

pairing non idol!jk x fem!reader (slightly ft. min yoongi)

wordcount 30k (20k main post, 10k reblog due to block limit)

genre childhood bffs2l, fluff, angst, smut

rating 18+ minors do not interact

content jk&oc 21 | yoongi&jia 22, unrequited love everywhere, yoongi is kind of villainized 😞, toxic friendships, jk and oc are v touchy n lovey friends, pining, pushover & lowk naive oc, protective jk, simp jk, a touch of he hates everyone but her trope, a lot of clichés, a lot of flashbacks, heated-ish arguments, panic/anxiety attack, alcohol consumption, a lil bitta jealousy, kissing under the influence, smoking (ciggies), cursing, non-detailed sex scene w yoongi, happy ending because it's me 😭 explicit content; dirty talk, nipple play, clit play, cunnilingus, condomless p in v sex (oc on pill), toy usage during sex (vibrator), multiple orgasms, creampie, lots of pillow talk

author's note this fic was basically built entirely in my old writing style, & while i did a fuckktonnn of editing, i'm still not 100% happy with the final product. but it's either post it now or i'll never post it! also... during said edits.. i think i took out most of the angst? 😭 i'm sorry angst luvvers, this is like 60% pure fluff and filth 😭

don't forget to read part 2! link at the end 🩷 (or don't, i wouldn't blame u xx)

main masterlist | join my taglist | banner credit

The rain drums against the windows of Jungkook’s Jeep as you cradle a six-pack of strawberry soju on your lap, the bottles clinking slightly with each bump in the road.

Jungkook hums softly to an old Linkin Park track from the mixtape he's played a hundred times before, the nostalgia pulling you in until you find yourself humming along without even realizing it.

He’d picked you up from your place not long ago, with a quick stop at the liquor store for beer and snacks, and now the two of you were about ten minutes away from Yoongi and Jia’s apartment.

You’ve been best friends with them for as long as you can remember—Jungkook, Yoongi, and Jia. Jungkook, just a little longer than the others. Growing up on the same street, realizing that the boy with the big bunny smile from your second-grade class lived right next door—it almost felt like fate.

‹ ‹ ‹

“How was school, honey?” Your mom leaned down to wrap you in a hug, her soft bangs brushing against your cheek.

Eight-year-old you giggled at the ticklish feeling before grabbing her hand and tugging her excitedly toward the school gates, eager to begin the walk home. “It was so fun, eomma! My teacher let us watch a movie since we finished all our work early!”

“Oooh, that’s nice, sweetie.” Your mom smiled warmly, easily keeping pace with you, her strides leisurely next to your quick, hurried steps.

The two of you chatted happily about your day, your little hand swinging in hers, when something up ahead caught your attention.

“Oh? Jeongguk-ssi!” you called out, your voice high with excitement.

Your mom followed your gaze and saw a young boy, about your age, walking just ahead of you. He turned at the sound of his name, curiosity lighting up his big eyes.

“Y/N-ssi? Hey!” Jungkook waved with that trademark bunny smile, and without missing a beat, you pulled your mom along as you ran up to him.

“I didn’t know you walked home!” you exclaimed, beaming. “This is my eomma!” You introduced her proudly while your mom greeted both Jungkook and his mother. “We’re walking home too!” you added with a grin.

“Cool,” Jungkook beamed before patting his mom on the arm. “This is my eomma! We live just down there.” His little hand reached out to point at a street just within view.

“No way!” you screeched, eyes wide in disbelief as you whipped around to look at your mom for confirmation. “That’s our street!” you shouted, practically buzzing with excitement.

“Wow… and we’re in the same class? This is getting weird,” Jungkook muttered, equally amazed. You both stood there, nodding at each other with wide, stunned eyes.

Your moms laughed at your expressions before yours turned to his. “Should we walk together?”

“Yes!” you cried, bouncing on your toes. “I want to talk to Jeongguk-ssi about the movie we watched today!”

You didn’t even wait for an answer, slipping out of your mom’s grasp to walk beside Jungkook, chattering away as if you’d known each other for thirty years already.

Jungkook’s mom chuckled, falling into step with yours as they followed closely behind, chatting about mom things while you and Jungkook walked ahead, engrossed in your conversation about 'Robots'. You were so caught up that you didn’t even realize you’d arrived home until your mom gently pulled you to a stop.

“We’re home, sweetie. Time to go in and start your homework before dinner. You’ll see Jungkook tomorrow, okay?” Your mom’s soft voice pulled you from your excitement, and you looked up at her with a pout.

“Okay…” you sighed, turning back to Jungkook, who was still smiling at you. His expression confused you. He wasn’t sad to leave like you were… Why wasn’t he upset? You thought the conversation was going great…

“Y/N-ssi, I live right there!” Jungkook exclaimed suddenly, bouncing on his toes as he pointed toward the house directly next to yours.

Your eyes followed where he pointed before snapping back to him in an instant, your pigtails flying. “Wow! We can walk to school together and-and walk home together and talk about movies! And you’re wearing a Superman t-shirt, and I’ve seen half of the Superman movie! This is so cool!”

Jungkook didn’t correct you—his shirt wasn’t Superman, it was Iron Man, his favorite hero of all-time. But he didn’t care. He just grinned, matching your excitement with a big nod.

Jungkook’s mom chuckled again, tapping him on the shoulder. “Okay, Gukkie, we better go start your homework, too.” She turned to your mom with a warm smile. “I’ll give you a call later to talk about what we mentioned before, Bora?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Thanks, Hyomin.” Your mom gave her arm a quick squeeze before gently guiding you inside.

“Bye, Gukkie! See you tomorrow!” you called out, using the nickname you heard his mom call him as he walked up his driveway with her.

“Bye, Y/N-ssi! See you tomorrow!” he grinned before disappearing inside with Hyomin.

The next day, your moms walked you both to school, chatting as they went, and when they left, they seemed to head off in the same direction.

That evening, you found out they’d gone for coffee to get to know each other better, and it turned out they got along incredibly well. At the time, their husbands were the ones working while they stayed home to care for the kids and the house. It wasn't long before they were exchanging recipes, enjoying wine nights together, and becoming each other’s go-to babysitters whenever one had an appointment. Soon, they were inseparable.

Just like you and Jungkook.

› › ›

You first met Jia and Yoongi about six months later, when you and Jungkook moved up to third grade. It was a combined class of third and fourth-graders, with Jia and Yoongi a year older than you both. Since the activities were separated by gender, you and Jia naturally grew close, always being paired up or placed in the same groups for subjects. It was the same for Jungkook and Yoongi.

Jia was beautiful. From the day you met her, you knew she was in a league of her own with her looks— naturally wavy raven hair, long lashes, and starry eyes that made her stand out in any crowd.

As you all grew older, Jia only became more stunning, her confidence blossoming with age. By high school, she had every boy wrapped around her finger. And she knew it.

What you didn’t expect, though, was for Yoongi to be one of those boys.

Jungkook was the first to know about your insatiable crush on Yoongi. Of course he was. He was your best friend, the peanut butter to your jelly, the moon to your light. You’d confided in him when you first realized around middle school that your feelings for Yoongi had shifted, that you didn't just like him as a friend anymore.

You told Jia, too. But she seemed to brush it off as just an innocent childhood crush, something that would fade with time. When she and Yoongi only grew closer, eventually making it official during your senior year of high school, you felt like you were going to die.

You love Jia. She's an incredible friend, and she deserves all the good things the boy you were in love with had to offer.

But no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself that you weren’t a jealous person, the ache in your chest was impossible to ignore. And every time you visit their shared apartment, which they moved into not long after their second anniversary, you can’t stop that very ache from resurfacing as soon as you step through the threshold.

“Hey. We’re-o—”

Jungkook’s words die on his lips as soon as he steps into the doorway of Yoongi and Jia’s apartment, his body freezing in place. You don’t have time to stop, bumping into his back, the soju in your arms rattling with the impact. Jungkook turns around to steady you before Jia's voice rips through the room.

“You always fucking do this! I’m so sick of it, Yoongi! Seriously! I can’t fucking take it anymore!” She storms toward the kitchen counter, snatching up her jacket and keys. Her eyes pass right over you and Jungkook as if you weren’t there, and she shoves past you both in her rush to leave.

“Yeah, walk away like you always do, Jia.” Yoongi’s laughter is bitter as he follows her to the door. “I’ll see you at, what, 10 o’clock when you come crying back, saying that you’re sorry and you overreacted again?”

You exchange a glance with Jungkook, both of you fidgeting uncomfortably with the drinks in your hands. This was just supposed to be one of your usual Friday hangouts… but instead, you’ve walked straight into a war zone.

Jia’s already halfway down the hall when she whirls around, her eyes blazing with venom. “No, I won’t.” Her voice is sharp, her tone final. “I’m done, Yoongi. We’re done.”

Yoongi’s face falters immediately, and in all the years you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him look this lost. “What?” His voice softens, a note of desperation creeping in as he steps toward her. She shakes her head, holding up a hand to stop him.

“I’m serious, Yoongi. I can’t do this anymore. We need a break… some time apart.”

Even though they fight often, the look on Yoongi’s face tells you that this is different. That maybe she’s never called it quits like this before.

“Wh—jagi? No, don’t—no… just get some air? Please? We’ll talk later, okay?” Yoongi’s voice cracks, and you feel your brows furrow, your heart aching at his tone.

Jungkook silently sets his beer on the counter, gently taking the soju from your arms and placing it beside his. He returns to your side, his arm slipping around yours. The warmth of his touch grounds you, but your eyes stay fixed on the man you love, who looks like he’s about to fall apart right in front of you.

“This is toxic. We’re toxic, Yoongi. We fight every single day. This isn’t love… this is—I don’t even know what this is.” Jia’s voice trembles, her grip tightening around her keys as she struggles to keep her tears at bay.

Your instinct is to step forward, to offer your best friend comfort, but she rejects your gesture, wiping away the tears that have just started streaming down her face. Her face contorts in pain, causing your lips to purse as you itch to pull her into a hug. Jungkook moves close behind you, his presence reassuring, but you aren’t the one who needs comforting right now—Jia and Yoongi are. Jungkook doesn’t move, just leans against the wall next to you, his gaze fixed on the ground.

“Jia, please.” Yoongi’s voice is raw, a pleading tone you’ve never heard from him before. You glance at him, your chest tightening as you see his eyes all glossy and red.

You have witnessed plenty of arguments between Jia and Yoongi over the years. Whether it was when you were all just friends in school and they disagreed on something, or when they’d suddenly break out into a heated fight during a night out at your favorite bar. But this one feels so different, and you don't know what to do.

You shift a little, moving to stand properly beside Jungkook, your head tilting up to meet his gaze. He glances down at you, about to ask if you're okay right as you’re about to suggest you guys go back inside, but Jia’s voice cuts through the air again.

“I’m gonna go stay with my mom. I’ll get my brother to come pick up my things… I need space, Yoongi.”

You swear you see the exact moment his heart snaps in two. His knees almost buckle when Jia turns around without another word, taking the stairs instead of the elevator, desperate to get out of the building as fast as she can.

Immediately, you and Jungkook rush to Yoongi, enveloping him in a tight hug. The dam breaks, and he begins sobbing in your embrace, his body trembling between the two of you. His breath carries the faint, bitter scent of alcohol as he struggles to catch his breath. You sigh, realizing the argument probably escalated because they’d both been drinking.

After a moment of rubbing his back soothingly, you suddenly glance up at Jungkook in alarm, which he returns with a puzzled look.

“Yoongi,” you whisper, tilting your head back to search his tear-streaked face, gently wiping away the streams flowing down his cheeks. “Honey, has Jia been drinking too?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer, still too distraught to process your question. His sobs only deepen, his body shaking with every breath.

Jungkook immediately understands, his hand lightly rubbing the back of Yoongi’s neck before he pulls away, quickly disappearing down the staircase that Jia had descended.

“Come on, hun, let’s go inside,” you murmur, guiding the broken boy toward the couch. His legs are heavy, dragging as you help him into the apartment with an arm around his waist.

Once inside, you manage to coax him onto the couch, gently urging him to sit down. His face is flushed, streaked with tears, and your heart wrenches at the sight. You pull the throw blanket from the back of the couch, draping it carefully over his lap.

The sheer amount of tears pouring from his eyes leaves your brows furrowed almost permanently. You’ve never seen Yoongi like this before—so utterly broken. Whether it’s the alcohol or the depth of this fight with Jia, you don’t know, but you feel sick to your fucking stomach.

You head to the kitchen, filling a glass of water before returning to Yoongi’s side. Sitting down next to him, you adjust the blanket so it covers both your legs and his. “Here, Yoongi. Drink some water, please?” you offer, gently wiping away the moisture clinging to his cheeks.

With a sniffle and a hiccup, Yoongi glances at you, then wraps his trembling hand around the cup. He takes a few gulps, finishing about half before you gently set it back on the coffee table. Then, you rest your head on his shoulder.

The room feels unbearably quiet now, and you don’t know what to say, how to make any of this better. “I’m so sorry, Yoongi.”

“I can’t believe it’s over.” His tears have stopped, but his voice is hoarse. His sad, dilated eyes lock onto yours, making your heart ache even more. “She’s all I’ve ever known, Y/N. I don’t know what to fucking do. What—what do I do?” His voice cracks.

“I…” You hesitate, your mind scrambling for something, anything that could comfort him. But for once, you don’t have an answer. “I have no idea, hun…”

You’re no stranger to giving Yoongi advice about Jia, and vice versa. You’ve practically become an expert over the years. But right now, you’re absolutely clueless.

Your best friend nods, his lips pursing to the side as he tries not to cry again. You exhale, your breath shaky as you shift to face him when he turns away. The blanket slips slightly, and your hands instinctively reach out to adjust it over his lap. But then, his trembling hand lands on yours, stopping you.

Your gaze lifts to his face, brows furrowing in concern. There’s a look in his eyes—something you've never quite seen before.

“Yoongi? Are you—mmf—”

His lips are warm, tasting faintly of Laphroaig—his favorite whiskey. The smoky sweetness floods your senses, dazing you as if you’d taken the bottle and downed the entire thing yourself. Suddenly, you're letting him guide you onto his lap, his hands gripping your waist as the blanket slips to the floor, forgotten.

Your mind blanks as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping past your lips in a desperate, feverish attempt to lose himself. His grip tightens, and he swallows your surprised gasp, pulling you closer, as if trying to drown out his heartache in the heat of you.

The realization hits you like a fucking truck.

You immediately jerk away, gasping for breath, your body trembling as you quickly scramble off his lap. Your legs feel weak as you collapse back onto the couch beside him, your wide eyes staring blankly at the wall above the TV.

Their TV.

A tense, painful silence fills the room, and you think you’re gonna puke.

Your lips still tingle with the memory of his, your heart pounding so hard you’re sure he can hear it. That was everything you’ve ever fucking wanted—but for all the wrong fucking reasons.

Your phone buzzes in your back pocket, yanking you out of your spiral. Clearing your throat awkwardly, you pull the device from your jeans and push yourself off the couch, stepping toward the kitchenette as you answer the call with shaky hands.

“Hey, bug. I’ve got Jia.” Jungkook’s voice soothes the crease in your brow before you even realize it. “She’s sleeping in the back. I’m going to drop her at her mom’s, and then I’ll come back to get you. Is Yoongi okay?”

You glance back at Yoongi, who's still sitting in stunned silence on the couch. “Ye—kkkhmm—yes, he’s fine. Okay, I’ll see you when you get back.”

Yep. Of course your voice broke. He won’t ignore that.

“Bug?” His tone softens, laced with concern. You close your eyes, trying to hold back the tears that spring to your eyes. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“Mhm,” you choke back the cry building in your throat, glancing over your shoulder at Yoongi. His head is buried in his hands, elbows pressed hard into his knees. “I’m okay, Gukkie. Just get Jia to her mom’s, and I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Jungkook goes quiet for a long second at your quivering voice. “No, bug. I’m gonna come get you first. Tell me why you’re crying, please.”

Your chest tightens, and when you try to speak, your voice cracks again. You roll your teary eyes, swiping your free hand roughly over your face. “‘ll tell you later, Gukkie. Please, just… please take Jia to her mom’s.”

He goes quiet again, and if it weren’t for the sound of his windshield wipers squeaking against the glass, you would have thought he hung up.

Jungkook’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel as he fights the urge to turn the car around right now and drive back to get you. If Yoongi is the reason you’re crying... Fuck, he can’t even finish the thought.

“I’ll be back to get you in thirty minutes, okay?” he manages to say, his pulse pounding.

“Thank you, Gukkie. I love you, please drive safe.”

“I love you too, bug,” he sighs before letting you disconnect the call.

Jungkook glances up at his rearview mirror to see a sleeping Jia sprawled out on his backseat, soft snores escaping her lips. He doesn’t entirely hate Jia, but he can’t ignore how poorly she treats you, no matter how much you try to convince him otherwise.

What kind of person feels the need to one-up their friend in every aspect of life? What kind of person knows about the insecurities that their beautiful, amazing friend has, but discredits them and forces them outside of their comfort zone anyway? What kind of person learns about the feelings their friend harbors for someone, and shortly after, goes for that person just to prove they can?

Whether Jia does it subconsciously or not, whether her intentions are ill or not, whether you notice or not, Jungkook sees everything.

At the end of the day, it’s you he cares about. You are his best friend. You are the love of his life. You are the one he will protect at all costs when it comes down to it. You are the one he will choose.

You will not get hurt in the crossfire of Yoongi and Jia’s fucked-up relationship. Jungkook will make sure of that.

“Are you okay?” Your voice is quiet—the quietest Yoongi has ever heard, and his heart splinters.

His head lifts from his hands, eyes searching for you. You’re standing a few feet away, the distance between you obvious, and he almost cringes. “Don't, bug. Are you okay? I’m so fucking sorry.”

It’s still strange to hear Yoongi call you the nickname Jungkook gave you what feels like a hundred years ago, but you can’t ignore the warmth it stirs in your chest when he does.

“Of course I’m okay,” you say carefully. “You’re hurting... People do silly things when they’re hurting.”

Yoongi’s breath hitches, his hands running through his hair in frustration. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable, bug, I—”

“You didn’t.” You’re quiet again, and he freezes, confusion knitting his brows. “Make me, um, uncomfortable.”

He scoffs under his breath, hands rubbing at his temples. “Sure seems like I did.”

“No, you could never make—”

“Y/N, don’t say that. I kissed you. I pulled you on top of me—”

“I let you—”

“I took advantage of you—”

“You didn’t—”

“Stop fucking defending me! Stop thinking the best of me—”

“I’m not—”

“You are! You always do! Even when I act like a complete piece of shi—”

“I love you.”

The room falls into a suffocating silence. Yeah, you’re definitely going to puke now.

Yoongi’s hands slowly fall away from his face, his eyes desperate to meet yours. But you refuse to look at him. Your gaze stays fixed on the rug you helped Jia pick out from your favorite vintage home decor store. You’re going to get vomit all over such a pretty rug.

“Bug…” His voice is soft, pleading. You don’t look up. You don’t move. You can’t.

You’ve said “I love you” to Yoongi plenty of times before. But you know that you can’t possibly play this off as another friendly declaration. You know he caught what you really meant.

Over a decade of hiding and suppressing your feelings for him, just for you to suddenly blurt it out because you couldn’t bear to hear him talk badly about himself? And to think your stupid therapist said your chronic people-pleasing tendencies were getting better.

“Y/N. Please.” You didn’t even realize he’d stood from the couch, didn’t notice him moving closer. But you feel it when his shaky hand gently lifts your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“You don’t mean that,” he murmurs, shaking his head slowly, his eyes filled with sadness as he takes in your expression.

“Okay.” You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks despite your efforts to hold them back. “I didn’t mean it. Let’s just forget it happened—”

“You can’t love me, bug.” He looks like he’s in so much pain, and your stomach clenches. He’s repulsed by the idea of you loving him in that way. God, you wished that you’d just stayed home tonight and watched movies with Jungkook like he had suggested.

Who were you even kidding? Yoongi is in—well, was in—a relationship with one of the most gorgeous, fierce, and confident women you’ve ever met. Jia is everything a man could want. He loves her. Obviously, he loves her. How pathetic could you be?

“Yoongi, I’m sorry. I-I don’t know why I even said that. I’m so stupid.” You sniffle, and Yoongi sighs deeply, his thumb brushing away the tear that spills down your cheek. “Please forget it. Please, let’s just forge—”

But he cuts you off, his lips crashing into yours again, more intense this time. His kiss pulls you under before you can even think to resist, and it's not long before your body completely surrenders. Your lips part, letting him in, stifling the urge to moan as his tongue meets yours. Yoongi’s hands move from your jaw to thread through your hair, pulling you closer, and suddenly, everything—right, wrong, loyalty, friendship—fades. It’s just him.

A deep groan vibrates from his throat, and you capture it, drinking it in as your head spins. Your hands unfreeze and find their way to his chest, feeling the warmth beneath the fabric of his shirt. You grip the material, tugging him even closer, satisfaction surging through you as he presses himself against you.

Yoongi pulls back, just for a moment, and you force yourself not to chase his lips. Your eyes flutter open, taking in the sight of his swollen pout and reddened cheeks. “I didn’t know, Y/N…”

You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I know. It’s okay, really. You don’t have to—”

“I didn’t know that you had feelings for me, too.”

Your hands jerk back, the fabric slipping from your fingers as you stumble away. What?

“What?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

No? That’s not. No.

“Of course I love you, bug.” Yoongi’s eyes soften, and his words spill out like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What’s not to love? You’re smart, funny, pretty, sweet… Anybody would be lucky to have you.”

Your head starts shaking furiously, your brain scrambling to process what he’s saying. “You’re—a-are you drunk? You don’t mean that. You can’t just say something like that to me if you don’t mean it—”

“You know me, Y/N. You know my tolerance, and I’ve barely had much to drink. I’m just really emotional tonight. But I mean it, I do love you.”

You stare at him, the boy you’ve loved in secret for years, the one you’ve cried over, wishing for this exact moment. And now, the words you’ve always dreamed of are tumbling from his lips.

But… where are the fireworks?

There’s no rainbow-colored burst in your head, no magical release of all the pain you’ve carried, no sense of it washing down a metaphorical drain. You pout at the thought.

You feel happy, yes. Relieved, yes. Confused… yes.

A soft thudding noise furrows Jungkook’s brows as he twists the handle to Yoongi’s apartment door.

The lights in the living room are on. There’s a blanket sprawled across the rug you really wanted from your favorite vintage home decor store—the one Jia bought because she said it would look cute in her new apartment. Your sandals are neatly placed next to the doormat, but you’re nowhere in sight.

Jungkook peeks into the nearby rooms, checking the main bathroom and laundry, both empty. His steps slow as he reaches Yoongi and Jia’s bedroom, where a sliver of light spills from beneath the door. His hand hovers over the knob before it freezes, his blood running cold.

“Oh! Fuck!” Your sweet voice rings in his ears, rendering him immobile.

No.

No, bug… Fuck.

The thudding noise he heard when he entered the apartment returns, now registering loud and clear as the headboard of Yoongi’s bed slamming harshly into the wall. Jungkook tries to move, tries to turn around and leave, but he can’t.

“Shit, bug! You like that?”

Jungkook’s fist tightens around the doorknob as he hears his best friend call you by his nickname while he fucks you. He’s got some fucking nerve.

“Mhmm, I-I love ittt.”

Jungkook stumbles back from the door as he feels the bile rising in his throat. He heads to the kitchen, chest tightening painfully with every step. He grabs a glass, fills it with water, and downs it in three gulps. Then he fills it again, downs it again. And again. And again.

He repeats the action until his eyes are watering and he can’t force himself to swallow another mouthful. The sick feeling clawing at his throat remains unaffected. He's gonna fucking pass out.

He’s shaking now as he carefully sets the glass in the dishwasher. Then, he walks to the door and removes his shoes, lining them up perfectly alongside yours. After turning off the light, Jungkook walks to the couch and bends down to pick up the ugly blanket draped across your pretty little rug.

Your body clock wakes you as it does every morning. Groggily, your hand reaches out, searching for your phone on your bedside table. But instead of the familiar hard surface, your fingers only encounter more mattress instead.

‹ ‹ ‹

“Okay, can you pass me two screw C’s, please, Gukkie?” you asked, eyes bouncing between the half-built table you were trying your best to put together.

Jungkook stayed quiet for a moment, his hand hovering over the screw C’s even though he knew it was actually screw B’s you needed for that part. He glanced over, catching sight of your little pout, and grabbed two screw B’s, plopping them into your hand.

“Thank you—” you started, pausing when you noticed the bolts weren’t what you thought. “Gukkie, no, I need screw C’s.”

“No, bug, you need screw B’s.” He rubbed your leg, which was bumping against his as you both sat cross-legged on the floor of your new apartment.

“What—I… huh?” you mumbled in confusion, glancing from the manual to the table, then back to the manual. “Ohhhh, fuuuckk!”

You dropped the screws and manual with a whine, pulling your knees up and burying your face in them. “I’ve gotten the last three steps backward! I’ll have to basically unassemble it and—ugh!” you groaned, grumbling into Jungkook’s shoulder when he laughed, catching you as you flopped against him. “Should’ve just let you build it like you wanted to,” you muttered.

Jungkook just shrugged, glancing at the table. “S’okay. Won’t take me long. Want to order our dinner?”

You glanced up at your best friend, hands reaching to grab his cheeks and squeeze them. “Yes. Thank you. I love you.” He turned his face to give your hand a quick kiss, nodding as he reached for the table pieces. “I love you more. My phone’s over there,” he gestured to the couch behind you, a silent invitation to use his delivery app.

You nodded, grabbing his phone and angling away just enough so he wouldn’t see you switch to your own device instead. He never let you pay, but he was building your furniture...

You’d happily take the scolding once your bellies were full and your cute new table was standing next to your bed.

› › ›

Confused, you open your eyes, only to be met with the sight of a blank beige wall. But… your walls aren't beige?

And then it hits you.

Yoongi.

You and Yoongi.

The arm wrapped firmly around your waist tugs you closer as Yoongi nuzzles into your back, still half-asleep. You freeze, your heart skipping a beat, before gently trying to pull the blanket up over your exposed chest. But even in his sleep, his grip on you remains strong. You’re about to tug a little harder when you suddenly remember.

Jungkook.

Holy fuck, Jungkook. He was supposed to come back for you. He must have, but you weren’t out there waiting for him. Panic surges through you as you scramble out of the bed, not even thinking as you leap for your jeans discarded on the bedroom floor.

Yoongi stirs, a confused grunt escaping him as his eyes slowly open, watching you frantically search your pants. “I would say I’m hurt you’re rushing to get dressed so quickly,” he drawls, voice husky with sleep, “but your ass looks fantastic from here, so I’ll let it slide…”

You roll your eyes with a little smile, still focused on finding your phone. Climbing back into bed once you have it in hand, he watches with a twinkly smirk, the bruise he left above your left nipple making his morning wood throb a little. His head tilts up to capture your lips, and you almost drop your phone at the feeling, but you don’t let it last too long before flopping back next to him, finally opening your messages app.

[7:36 AM] To: Gukkie good morning, gukkie. i’m soooo sorry i didn’t call you last night. i have so much to tell you. please text me back when you wake up, okay? i love you 💗

You scroll back to the last message, a photo from Jungkook of an anime figurine he found at the gas station yesterday on his way to pick you up. He said it reminded him of you.

You’ve never been much into anime—only knowing what you do from when you go over to his place and finish the episode he’s currently watching with him—but the character was so cute. Maybe you’ll ask him to show you the series later.

You’re just about to ask Yoongi if you can borrow his charger because your phone’s at 5%, but his phone rings, interrupting your question. He presses a soft kiss to your shoulder before leaning over to grab his phone from the bedside table. As he glances at the screen, a sigh slips from his lips, his hand running through his hair in a familiar gesture that tells you exactly who’s calling. A knot forms in your stomach as you focus back on your phone, pretending to be preoccupied with the screen.

Clad only in his boxers, Yoongi gets up and quietly slips into the ensuite, shutting the door behind him. His voice is low, muffled by the walls, but you don’t try to listen. Instead, you lean over to his bedside table, searching for a charger amongst the clutter, but come up empty. After a quick check of the drawers and still finding nothing, you sigh.

Just as you’re about to get up and search the rest of the room, you glance back at your phone in your lap. The messages app is still open, and your heart stutters when you notice the read receipt on the last text you sent.

Read 7:37 AM.

Jungkook’s awake? Maybe he’s just in the bathroom and will reply soon. Or maybe you woke him up, and he was too tired to respond. Or maybe he’s mad at you for ditching him yesterday. Guilt twists in your chest, and you bite hard on your inner lip, knowing you’ve just earned yourself a spot in the Shitty Friend Hall of Fame after last night.

You're typing another message to Jungkook when the ensuite door opens. You glance up, only to find Yoongi stepping back into the room with a somber expression. His movements are slow, careful. Your stomach drops.

Suddenly, you’re all too aware of how underdressed you are. Your phone slips from your fingers into the blankets without a thought as you scramble back up to grab your shirt from the floor. Your throat feels scratchy, and you clear it awkwardly, desperate to fill the silence as you tug the fabric over your head. Yoongi watches your frantic movements and sighs as he reaches out to you, but you pull away, avoiding his touch.

His voice is strained. “Bug…” 

God, you’re so fucking stupid. Of course, this was nothing to him. You were nothing but a momentary distraction, a warm body to offer comfort while he was hurting. Of course it takes one five-minute call from your beautiful best friend to have him regretting everything that happened between you.

Holy fuck. Jia.

She’s going to be furious. She's going to kill you. She’s going to hate you.

Panic rises in your chest, and your vision blurs as tears well up in your eyes. You stumble back slightly, grabbing for your jeans again, but your hands are shaking too much to pull them on. Yoongi steps closer, taking the jeans from your hands, his fingers brushing against your skin, warm and gentle.

And that’s when you break.

He pulls you into his arms as you lose it, sobbing uncontrollably, ugly and snotty. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. Jia and I… we’re gonna try to work on things… There’s just so much history, and we weren’t thinking clearly last night. I’m so—”

“No, I’m…” you choke out between hiccups, wrenching free from his arms, hurriedly wiping your eyes and nose. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Oh my god, she’s going to hate me. What have I done? I-I—”

Your words falter as a wave of dizziness hits you, and your vision begins to blur at the edges. Your heart is pounding so loudly in your ears that it drowns out everything else. The tightness in your chest makes it hard to breathe, each breath becoming shallower, more frantic. “Yoong—”

The room is closing in on you, suffocating. The panic seizes your lungs, and even the minimal clothing you’re wearing feels too heavy, too much.

It’s been two years since your last episode and you'd almost forgotten how they felt like. But right now, but the feeling is all too fucking familiar.

Yoongi’s eyes widen in alarm. He’s saying your name, you think, but all you can hear is the deafening thud of your own heartbeat. Your hands tremble uncontrollably, and before you know it, you collapse to the floor, curling into yourself.

Head on your knees. Deep breaths. In and out. In and out. Just like your nurse taught you. Just like your best friend practiced with you for hours until you both experts in the method.

But it’s not working. It’s not fucking working.

“Y/N?” Yoongi’s voice rises in panic, his eyes wide and helpless. “Y/N, please. What’s happening? What do I do? I-I’m going to call an ambu—”

The door to Yoongi’s room slams open, hitting the wall with a thud at the force it was thrown open. Within seconds, Yoongi is shoved aside, and the warmth of strong arms wraps around you. You don’t even have to look up; you’d recognize his touch and scent anywhere. The most comforting, familiar presence in your life surrounds you, and while it barely steadies your racing pulse, it feels like everything.

Your body shudders with a fresh wave of tears as Jungkook pulls you into him, his arms cradling you while he gently rocks you back and forth. His lips press softly against the top of your head. “‘S’ok, bug,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm. “Just focus on your breathing. In and out, remember? I’m here. I’m with you. We’re here together. We’re okay.”

“Kook…” Yoongi’s strained voice cuts through, watching helplessly as you cling desperately to Jungkook’s shirt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to—”

“Yoongi,” Jungkook interrupts, his voice low, firm, almost dangerous as he speaks without taking his eyes off of you. “When she’s okay, we’re going to leave.”

Yoongi immediately agrees, his expression growing more concerned as he watches you fall apart in Jungkook’s arms, “Y-yeah-uh, yeah, I can drive you guys if—”

“If you or Jia ever drag her into your fucked-up situation again,” Jungkook finally lifts his gaze from you, staring coldly into Yoongi’s eyes as he continues, “you will both regret it.”

You’re slowly regaining control, your breathing evening out, but you’re still too drained to form words. You want to tell Jungkook that it’s not Yoongi’s fault. That you were just as much to blame. That you made this mess, too. But the words won’t come. You’re too spent, too weak to defend him.

Jungkook watches as you struggle to speak, your breath still uneven but slowly regulating. His focus is entirely on you, not caring about whatever unreadable expression Yoongi is wearing. Anger, regret—whatever the fuck, Jungkook couldn’t care less. All that matters to him is that your sobs have finally stopped and your breathing is settling.

You’re still trying to speak, no doubt in an attempt to defend your other best friend. The other best friend who’s standing a foot away from you looking like he was going to have a panic attack. Fucking pathetic, Jungkook thinks.

His gaze softens as he brushes his thumbs gently across your cheeks, wiping away the lingering tears. You pull back slightly, clearing your throat to try and gather your strength.

He raises an eyebrow in disapproval, silently telling you to stop straining yourself, but he lets it slide without comment. Your hand hastily moves to wipe your nose, your chest tightening in embarrassment by the state you’re in.

Jungkook moves your hand away, lifting the bottom of his t-shirt to gently wipe under your nose, the way someone would for a baby when they couldn't blow their own.

A raspy laugh escapes your lips before you can stop it and Jungkook’s lips quirk up at the sound, a little weight lifting from his heart as he finally sees you smile. He finishes wiping your face and lets the t-shirt fall back down, his hands resting on yours where they’ve settled on his leg.

“First one in a while,” he murmurs softly, still ignoring Yoongi’s presence across the room, allowing you to play absentmindedly with his hand.

“Yeah,” you nod, sniffing one last time. “Thought they were gone… Thank you for helping m—” Your voice falters, confusion clouding your expression as you look up at him. “Wait, how are you here? Where did you—when did you—”

“He slept here. On the couch.”

Yoongi’s voice interrupts, and your gaze snaps to him, brows knitting further in confusion. What? He knew Jungkook was here? And didn’t tell you? “Wha—”

“Saw him when I went to grab water in the middle of the night,” Yoongi adds, resting casually against his dresser.

Annoyance flickers inside you, and you don’t even know why. Maybe it’s the fact that Yoongi didn’t tell you Jungkook was sleeping out there, alone on the couch. Or maybe it’s the sudden wave of nausea rising in your throat at the realization that Jungkook might have heard everything.

“You ready to go?” Jungkook’s gentle voice pulls you back to the present, his thumb grazing over your knuckles. He leans forward and grabs your jeans from the floor, handing them to you without a word. You give a quick nod, accepting them and walking to the ensuite to put them on.

A few minutes later, you emerge from the bathroom, looking a little more put together. Your face is rinsed, and your hair is tied back into a ponytail, but the redness around your eyes remains, making Jungkook’s stomach churn. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you cross the room silently.

You step forward, hugging Yoongi tightly, your voice small. “I’m really sorry, Yoongi. I just—”

“Don’t,” Yoongi cuts you off, shaking his head. “You don’t need to apologize, bug.”

Jungkook, who had been waiting near the doorway, catches the end of your conversation. His jaw clenches when he hears Yoongi say, “I won’t mention anything to Jia.”

You nod, assuming he means that he’ll let you break the news to her yourself. “Thanks, Yoongi. I’ll come see her later toni—”

“No, bug.” Yoongi interrupts again, his tone a little firmer this time. “I won’t say anything at all...”

You blink, confused. Your brows knit together as you search his face, trying to understand. He wanted to keep this a secret? From Jia, one of your best friends? The woman he’s in love with?

When it seems like you can’t find the words to say, Jungkook approaches quietly, your sandals in hand, nudging them toward you. You break your gaze from Yoongi to slip into them, but your eyes flick back to him, silently begging for more explanation. He offers none.

Jungkook stands close and quietly behind you, waiting for you to finish up, and he hopes you do it soon because he really doesn’t want to be in this house anymore. You finally avert your gaze from Yoongi, still confused and dazed, but suddenly desperate to leave. Jungkook reads the look instantly, repressing back what he really wants to say to Yoongi for the sake of your presence, slipping his hand into yours before leading you out of the apartment.

“Damn it,” Jungkook mutters, clicking his tongue in frustration, the sound echoing in the roomy cabin of his Jeep.

You glance over at him after fiddling with the knob of his car heater, noting his annoyed features. “Hm? You okay?”

“We left our drinks there.” A borderline adorable pout coats his lips as he sighs, and despite the heaviness in your chest, you can’t help but smile.

“It’s okay.” You shrug, looking down at your lap. “Don’t want them anymore.”

Jungkook glances at you, and the moment his eyes catch your expression, his heart twists. He wants to cup your face in his hands, massage your frown away, and tell you everything will be fine. But at the same time, all he can think about is driving back to Yoongi’s apartment after he drops you off at home and beating the ever-loving shit out of him.

He’s so fucking angry.

Angry at how Yoongi would claim such a priceless fucking gift from the sweetest fucking girl and leave her hurt in the process. Angry at how he knows you’re blaming yourself for everything that happened last night when he would bet every cent to his name that you have nothing to be truly sorry for. Angry at the thought of how Jia will react, and how devastated you’re going to be. He knows Jia’s history well enough to predict that she will somehow make this all your fault.

Jungkook's grip on the steering wheel tightens, his knuckles turning white as he takes a shaky breath. “It’s not your fault, bug,” he says as softly as he can in his vexed state.

Your eyes fill with tears again, and a sad laugh escapes you. “Of course it is.”

Jungkook shakes his head, his jaw tightening as he signals right and pulls over to the side of the road. As soon as the engine cuts off, his hand finds yours, and he turns to face you. “Bug—”

“I told him, you know,” you sniffle through a short chuckle, cringing at what a shit-show this whole ordeal is. “I told him I loved him. And-and he said he loved me too.”

Jungkook’s heart stops. “He what?” He doesn’t know if you heard his words; he barely heard them himself. But when you purse your lips and nod sarcastically, he knows that you did.

“Yup. Said that I’m pretty and sweet and funny and that anyone would be lucky to have me.” You scoff bitterfly, using the hand not in the grasp of Jungkook’s to wipe your tears. “Apparently not anyone because he clearly didn’t want me. God, I’m so pathetic. This is all just so pathetic.”

You finish wiping your face and dry your hand on your jeans, your thumb gently rubbing over Jungkook’s knuckles. “Sorry, Gukkie,” you croak, sensing the way he tensed up and went quiet, probably due to all of your whining. “I’m done, promise. No more crying.”

Jungkook remains still, his brows furrowed as his gaze is fixed on nothing in particular, lost in thought. “Gukkie?” you ask softly, nudging his hand with your finger to snap him out of it. Nothing.

You squint at him playfully, deciding to poke his cheek this time. It works, though the reaction is faint—a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth, but you catch it.

Your head tilts as you move your finger from his cheek down to his lips, ready to poke again, but your focus wavers. His lips. They’re so pink. So plump. So pretty.

“You are the furthest thing from pathetic, bug.” His voice is soft, drawing your attention back to his words, but your eyes remain on his lips. You smile at the way they shape each letter, his slight lisp curling around certain syllables.

A quiet sigh leaves you, and your hand drops to the buckle of his seatbelt, releasing it with a click. You unfasten your own as well before leaning over the center console. Jungkook’s hands move instinctively, helping guide you as you crawl into his lap, melting into his embrace.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer and making sure you’re comfortable in his lap. One hand plays gently with your ponytail while the other traces soothing circles on your back. You bury your face in the curve of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent—a blend of his cologne that defied the night and the comforting aroma of soft linen that always reminds you of him.

“Don’t deserve you,” you mumble, your breath tickling his skin. His muscles relax instantly, his body turning to mush under your weight.

Cuddling like this isn’t anything new for the two of you. It’s become your go-to after a rough day at work, or at uni. Whenever you meet him at his car after class, you more often than not end up in this exact position.

Jungkook remembers that one time a classmate walked past and saw you in his lap, assuming you were doing more than just seeking comfort from your best friend. You got so embarrassed that you stopped cuddling him in his car for a while. Jungkook hadn’t cared at all, but he realized it really bothered you. So, maybe he booked his Jeep in for window tinting that night.

But even though this is routine, it doesn’t stop Jungkook from from turning into a lovesick puppy when you do end up snuggling him. Because he does. Every single time.

“If anyone deserves me, it’s you, bug,” he responds quietly.

Your hand strokes through his tousled hair, your fingers occasionally scratching his scalp the way he likes, and Jungkook has to bite back a pathetic whine. The way you hold him, the way your nose brushes against his neck, it’s too much and not enough at the same time. “I love you, Gukkie. I’m sorry for being such a bad friend.”

“I love you too, bug,” he replies easily, tugging your shirt down as it rides up when you snuggle deeper into him. “But if you say one more untrue, negative thing about yourself, you’re walking to uni tomorrow.” The half-hearted threat is followed by a gentle nudge of his head.

You pull back slightly, observing him quietly. His eyes are closed, his head resting peacefully against the seat. He looks so content, so at ease, and you wish he could stay like this forever.

Jungkook senses your gaze and squints his eyes open, a single brow raising in question. He adjusts your ponytail with a soft touch, waiting for you to say something. But you just shake your head and give him a sweet smile before climbing off his lap and settling back into your seat.

“Can we go watch that anime with the girl you said reminds you of me?”

It’s been eight days since that night. Yoongi and Jia have reunited like nothing ever happened, and it’s driving you fucking crazy. He still hasn’t told her.

You’ve seen them at university during the weekdays since then, and everything is normal. Jia has been normal, Yoongi has been normal. It’s like nothing ever happened.

Three days ago, at the peak of your anxiety from keeping the secret, you caved.

The second you got home, you collapsed onto your bed, phone gripped tightly in your shaky hands. After six long rings, Yoongi finally picked up.

“Hey, Y/N—”

“I feel fucking sick, Yoongi. Please tell her. The longer we wait, the worse it’s going to be. This isn’t okay.”

Yoongi’s sigh came low through the receiver, already giving you that sinking feeling in your chest. He's not going to tell her.

“She doesn’t need to know. It doesn’t concern her. It was just a simple mistake, and we weren’t even together at the time, bug. It's fine.”

It was just a simple mistake.

If you didn’t already feel pathetic, you sure as hell do now.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe she doesn’t need to know.

You’ve tried convincing yourself of that ever since your phone call. But deep down, you know that if the situation were reversed, you’d want to know.

Not that you ever would be, because Jia would never do something as horrible as this to you.

Over the past week, three things have been haunting you: hurting Jia, being a shitty friend, and not feeling as heartbroken as you thought you would be when, in the span of twelve hours, Yoongi:

Told you he loved you (nice).

Slept with you (nice).

Said he was getting back with his ex-girlfriend (not so nice).

You’ve been in love with Yoongi for your entire adult life and so much of your childhood that you can’t even pinpoint when it all truly started.

When you think of Min Yoongi, you think of that warm, fuzzy feeling that swirls in your chest whenever someone you like walks into a room. The excitement of scanning the crowd at a party, hoping to catch a glimpse of their figure. That extra spark of joy when it was your joke that made them laugh.

Or, at least, that’s what you used to think.

Now when you think of Min Yoongi, you think of a friend. Someone you care about. Someone you appreciate. Someone you love… but aren’t in love with.

The events of last Friday night might very well be the reason for the sudden, drastic change in your heart. Maybe you’ve finally developed enough self-respect to stop chasing after someone who clearly doesn’t want you in that way.

You ignore the voice in the back of your mind that snarkily whispers, “Yeah, just… like… ten years late, honey.”

But, still. You aren’t 100% sure. And it’s driving you fucking mad.

Sure, you could just chalk it up to you being so hurt that the pain, you don’t know, numbed itself out?

But that wouldn’t be honest.

You know yourself. You’re an over-planner, an overthinker, and maybe (most definitely) an overreactor.

Over the years, you’d curated a long, arduous list of ways you thought you’d handle Yoongi’s rejection when the time inevitably came, hoping to better prepare yourself for it.

But not caring? Yeah, that wasn’t on the list. It wasn’t even in the fucking notebook.

You aren’t going to say that you’re unhappy about not being a weepy ball of tears and snot for an entire month, (which was on the list—quite high on it, in fact) but you just can’t help but be completely puzzled.

This isn’t you. You don’t… not care.

If there’s one thing you’ve always done, it’s care.

So, you can’t, for the life of you, figure out why you don’t.

"Caramel coffee frappé for Jeon Jung—huh?" you pause mid-callout, glancing up as the name on the cup registers in your brain. Your eyes land on your best friend, standing close on the other side of the pick-up counter.

"Hi, bug." Jungkook smiles softly, his hand already reaching for the drink that’s frozen in midair as you blink at him in surprise.

"Hi, Gukkie," you grin, the surprise melting into delight as you grab a paper straw from beside you and unwrap it for him. "What are you doing here? I don’t finish until four."

He shrugs, taking the straw from your outstretched hand and popping it into the cup. "Bored at home," he says, taking a long sip. "Thought I’d come early and—mmm, shit, bug, this is nice."

Your eyes crinkle in satisfaction as you watch him down almost a quarter of the frappé in one go. "I told you it’s the best drink we have," you nod knowingly, before a small frown starts to form. "But it’s not your usual, so I didn’t know it was yours… Should’ve told me you were here so I could’ve added my discount, Gukkie."

Jungkook just keeps drinking, hoping the brain freeze would distract him from the urge to reach across the counter and wipe the pretty little pout from your lips. "They gave it to me anyway," he mumbles around the straw. "Didn’t even ask."

And he wouldn’t have. Jungkook has money—and plenty of it. More than he’ll ever actually need. But it’s mostly blood money from his guilty father, which he has no problem in taking it without so much as a thank you. You know all this, yet you still badger him to use your 25% staff discount whenever he visits you at work. Cute.

You smile at that, glancing over at the register where Bella’s back from her break. She knows Jungkook’s with you, so it must’ve been her who added the discount. "Good. I’m glad," you hum, leaning against the counter, chin resting on your hand as you look at him. "What are you going to do? It’s only two-thirty."

Jungkook grabs a complimentary caramel drizzle bottle, aiming it over his cup. He probably doesn’t mean to be so rough—it’s just that he’s naturally strong—and you watch as nearly half the bottle spurts into his drink with one squeeze. “I’ll just hang out here until you’re done. Got any breaks left?”

You laugh, reaching over and grabbing the bottle from him. "You’re gonna get a stomachache, Gukkie." Shaking your head, you roll your eyes. "But yeah. One left. I’ll take it now?"

Jungkook scoops up some of the caramel with his straw, a slight smirk on his lips as he shoves it in his mouth. "Okay," he nods, gesturing toward the door with his head. "Come out for a smoke?"

The cool breeze is a gorgeous contrast to the warm, stuffy air behind the coffee bar as you burst through the door of the campus café. Jungkook holds it open for you, and as your shoe hits the pavement, you instinctively grab his hand, pulling him along with you.

It’s only another twenty seconds before you reach the secluded smoker’s spot near the outdoor stock corral. Leaning against the wall, you plop to the ground and giggle when Jungkook pretends to get yanked down with you, falling beside you with exaggerated force.

You shift into a criss-cross legged position, letting go of his hand so he can dig his lighter from his hoodie pocket. His shoulder becomes your makeshift pillow as you curl your right arm with his left, watching as he sparks the cigarette that dangles from his lips. Once the cherry glows red, he shoves the lighter away and rests his hand gently on your knee.

“How’s your shift going?” Jungkook asks, smoke curling from his mouth as he tilts his head away from you to blow it out of your direction.

“Good, it’s kinda quiet today,” you hum softly, eyes drifting shut. The mix of tobacco and Hermès cologne definitely shouldn’t make you feel so peaceful. But on him, it does.

“Good.” He nods, his gaze raking over you properly now that you’ve shrugged off your apron. Light-washed jeans, a little white singlet, black cotton cardi. He takes a deep drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke linger in his lungs before he comments, “Look so pretty today, bug.”

Your eyes flutter open as you blink up at him, beaming. “Really?”

He nods, holding the cigarette away with his right hand as he reaches over to tug gently at the cardigan with his left. “This new? S’nice.”

"It is," you nod happily, leaning back and twisting a little to show it off to him. He bites back a smile. “Just came yesterday. It's from my online Polly order. Remember?”

“Mhm,” he says, slipping an arm around you as you settle back into his side. A comfy silence stretches until you break it.

“Don’t wanna go to Yoongi and Jia’s tonight,” you murmur, your voice low, strained. The calm on your face shifts into something more pained, and Jungkook doesn't like that.

“Then we won’t,” he responds easily, tilting his chin up to exhale the smoke away from your face. “Movie night?”

You let out a sad sigh, head tilting up in time to catch the way the muscle in his jaw moves as he exhales. “Already canceled yesterday. If we do it again today, Jia will know something’s up.”

“So?” Jungkook turns to you, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he looks down at your glossy eyes. “I’ll call them. Tell them I’m sick and you need to take care of me or something,” he shrugs, flicking the ash off the cigarette.

“You think that’ll work?” You speak with a slight muffle as your cheek presses against his bicep.

“Don’t care if it doesn’t,” he replies honestly, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watches you melt further into his hold.

You shake your head, amused, the motion shifting against his arm. “They’re our best friends, Gukkie—”

“You’re my best friend,” he cuts you off simply, finishing the cigarette and tossing the stub into the makeshift ashtray nearby.

Your eyebrows scrunch at his stubbornness. “And you’re mine.” You roll your eyes, trying to keep the smile pulling at your lips under control. “But you know what I mean…”

Jungkook sniffs, the chill finally settling in now that the cigarette's heat is gone. “Yeah, I know, bug. But you shouldn’t have to feel like this about going over there. Yoongi put you in an awkward fucking position, even if he doesn’t think so.”

You sigh again. “I feel like I’m overreacting about all of this. He says she doesn’t need to know, and maybe—”

“Such a pussy,” Jungkook mutters, annoyance evident as his thumb continues rubbing slow circles on your knee.

You snort at his bluntness, leaning into his arm. “I won’t say anything as long as he doesn’t want me to. But I can’t face her. Not outside of school. If I do, I might just word vomit everything the second I see her.”

Jungkook rests his head against yours, crooning. “Yeah, you do word vomit a lot.”

You close your eyes through a snicker, squeezing his arm teasingly. “Hm, thanks, Gukkie.”

A few quiet moments pass. Jungkook nudges his nose gently against the top of your head, his voice low when he speaks again. “You know you’re not ‘overreacting’ at all, right? Yoongi is a piece of shit for what he did. And even someone like Jia deserves the whole truth.”

You ignore his jab at Jia, having tried—and failed—many times to convince him that she’s actually a good person. “You keep acting like Yoongi did this all by himself, Gukkie. I’m just as guilty as he is.”

Jungkook scoffs, shaking his head. “Not really.”

“Yes, really,” you insist, poking his side gently. “It was completely consensual—”

“I’m not just talking about the sex, bug,” Jungkook swallows hard, more than unenthusiastic about delving into the specifics of your night with Yoongi. One run-through was enough—and even then, he barely held back the contents of his stomach.

“It’s everything else. Before and after. Telling you he loved you like it was some obligation when you admitted your feelings? Dropping the news about getting back with Jia how he did? You’d been awake for five fucking minutes, bug. You were naked and vulnerable in his fucking bed.”

Jungkook pauses roughly to regain his composure, and you instinctively move closer, feeling his anger on your behalf. You’re about to tell him he’s right, that you understand, but he isn’t done.

“And then for him to not even give his girlfriend the bare fucking minimum of being able to make an informed decision about their relationship? Fucking coward. What if she doesn’t want to stay with him after finding out? He’ll have already taken months of her life from her. Yoongi is prolonging the pain for everyone involved. And I don’t know how long he intends to keep this shit going, but if Jia catches on, and she takes it out on you? Bug, I’ll fucking kill him—”

“Gukkie,” you gently interrupt, shifting your arms from around his bicep to wrap around his waist instead.

As you hug him close, your legs shift to tangle with his because you know he likes the contact. His rigid muscles gradually begin to ease, and you settle against him with a soft sigh. “I’m so sorry, Gukkie. I should’ve thought about what this might bring up for you.”

Although not an exact replica, the situation had similarities to what Jungkook witnessed in his childhood; his father being an unfaithful piece of shit to his mom.

It began with small actions like working late, claiming extra shifts on weekends... withholding the whole truth from his partner.

Jungkook’s mom, an amaing woman and a second to your own, stayed in the marriage for as long as she could—for Jungkook and his older brother, Jisung. But eventually, she realized leaving was the best thing she could do for them.

You were in your early teens when the Jeons temporarily moved in with your family until his parents settled their divorce and his mom found a new place for them to go.

Jungkook’s father, a powerful and successful proprietor, was his role model during his entire childhood, and when he lost that bond, it broke him.

Even though some of your best memories together came from that period—sleepovers, movie marathons, him teaching you how to sing—you knew the divorce had a greater impact on Jungkook than he liked to let on.

However, he still likes to joke darkly that if he could relive those days with you, he’d go through the divorce all over again without hesitation. That always results in a wack in the arm from you.

Jungkook shakes his head and his lips part, no doubt to tell you not to apologize, you butt in again. “You’re right, Gukkie. What Yoongi did, what he’s doing, it’s wrong.” His hand moves from your knees to curl around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his chest.

“Okay, this won’t just go away. Jia deserves to know.” You glance up at him to find his eyes already on you. “Tonight?”

Jungkook’s gaze softens. He nods, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head, careful not to disturb your tidy bun. As you trace slow circles on his waist with your fingertips, he pulls out his phone and shows you the time—2:58pm. You gasp, scrambling to your feet.

Jungkook laughs, standing up and letting you drag him back toward the café, ready to take the blame from your shift manager, Jimin, for you being back fifteen minutes late. Park Jimin loves him, after all.

“Bug! Kookie!” Jia’s excited voice rings out from the room she shares with Yoongi as you and Jungkook step into the oh-so-familiar apartment.

Yoongi closes the door quietly behind you both, the hug he usually greets you with noticeably absent. Instead, he reaches out to clasp Jungkook’s hand in a brief bro-shake, which Jungkook returns half-heartedly, before Yoongi heads straight for the kitchen.

Jungkook watches Yoongi’s retreat with a slight furrow in his brow, his jaw tightening as he registers Yoongi’s failure to acknowledge you at all. When he looks over to you, you just shrug, not as bothered by his childish antics as you thought you would be.

After your shift ended, Jungkook drove you back to your place to grab a change of clothes. Then, you headed to his apartment so you could use his shower—the one with the best fucking water pressure ever.

Your lease is up at the end of the year, and then you'll finally be moving into Jungkook's place.

Living on your own for senior year seemed like a good idea when you decided to move out of the dorms, but that novelty wore off real fucking fast. Being away from Jungkook was not ideal and you hated not being able to see him whenever you wanted. His dorm wasn’t too far, but it was still on the other side of campus, and overnight visits to dorms of the opposite gender were prohibited.

Jungkook didn’t care, of course—he snuck over anyway, stacking up a few too many strikes from student monitors and professors who caught him.

So, when you moved from the dorms into a your cute little flat, Jungkook did the same, finding one just a few minutes away. There were no free spaces at your building for him to take, so he told you to move into his instead—that plenty of apartments were available. But when you saw the rent price, you just laughed. You knew he had every intention of covering it anyway, but you couldn't do that to him, no matter how much you wanted to live together.

That’s why you’ve been working more lately. Shifts at the campus café during the week and extra hours at Seoul Cinema on weekends. With what you’ve saved, plus a little help from your mom, you’ll soon be moving in with your best friend and gaining 24/7 access to him and that gorgeous fucking shower.

Earlier, when you were about to step into the bathroom, you called Jia to confirm what time she wanted you guys over. That’s when she casually revealed that the plan for tonight had changed—that everyone was heading to Joonie’s, your friend group’s favorite club, instead.

Panic flared in your chest and you almost blurted everything to her right there on the phone. Sensing it, Jungkook took the phone from your hand, calmly telling Jia that you’d be there at nine before hanging up.

You poked at him for ending the call without letting her respond, but deep down, you were relieved. You knew you had to tell her everything in person. If not for the respect of your thirteen-year-long friendship, but because doing it over the phone just felt so cowardly.

You know telling her tonight, before you all head out to drink, is risky. She could blow up, scream, and tell you to fuck off—which you’re fully expecting—but at least it’ll be in the privacy of her own home.

So now, here you are, standing awkwardly in the apartment that’s haunted your dreams for the past eight straight nights. Gone are your comfy pants and Jungkook’s warm hoodie. Instead, you’re squeezed into a black mini-skirt and a tight little top, wishing you were anywhere else in the world.

Deflated, you let Jungkook take the bottle of tequila from your arms as you make your way toward the room where Jia's still getting ready. The door is slightly ajar, and you give it a gentle knock.

“Ji?” Your voice comes out quieter than you intended, so you clear your throat and take a cautious step inside when she tells you to come in. As soon as you catch sight of your beautiful best friend, a smile automatically paints your lips.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“Buggy!” Jia grins, snapping the cap onto her eyeliner before tossing it aside and striding over to you. When the long-legged girl extends her arms for a hug, you embrace her tightly.

“Hey, Ji. You look so good."

“You too, babe. You wore red like I asked! God, we look so hot matching.” Jia smirks as she pulls away, letting her eyes roam over your outfit before tilting her head in thought.

You swallow, waiting patiently for her assessment. Usually, she finds one or two minor things that could be improved for your clubbing outfits, and you pray she doesn’t find anything, because it’s a thirty-minute drive back to your place to make the adjustments.

Not that you think that tonight's plans will still go ahead after what you’re about to say.

To your surprise and relief, she nods in approval before turning back to her floor-length mirror. Jack Harlow plays lowly from her phone that rests on her dresser, and she hums along to it, fixing a few pieces of hair that have fallen out of place.

When you’re quiet for a long moment, something usually very out of the ordinary for you, Jia catches your eye in the mirror and her head tilts. “What’s wrong?”

You swallow. Your mouth opens. Then closes.

Jia’s brows knit together as she turns away from the mirror to face you directly. “What is it, bug? Is it Yoongi?”

Your heart plummets. “Wh-what?”

“He told me you stayed over last Friday? After Kookie took me to my mom’s?” Jia continues, her tone curious but confused. “Said you thought you could handle his whiskey, and he didn’t want to leave you on the couch, so you slept in our room. I almost didn’t believe it…”

“I—” you stammer.

“As if you’d ever willingly touch that disgusting whiskey he drinks. You can barely handle soju.” Jia chuckles.

“HAH! Yeah, you know me! Can’t handle my hard liquor… Would-would put me right on my ass!”

Jia’s amused squint deepens as she eyes you closely. “You’re acting weird.” She tilts her head with a teasing smile. “Did you have one of Kookie’s special cigarettes again? Because you know those are—”

“Jia.” Fuck. Word vomit. It’s happening. “I need to—”

“Change those shoes? I know, I was going to say something before, but you looked kinda sad… Hold on, I’ll—”

“No, Jia. I have to tell—”

The bedroom door swings open before you can finish. The words die in your throat as you whip your head toward the entrance. Tears well in your eyes as you turn to see who it is. Out of the two most likely options it could’ve been, unfortunately, it is not the one you hoped it was.

Yoongi stands in the doorway, his expression unreadable as his gaze flickers between you and Jia. The tension in the room rises dramatically, but Jia remains unfazed.

“Jagi,” Jia greets him with a bright, oblivious smile. “Just telling buggy how cute she looks in red. Doesn’t she look amazing?”

Yoongi nods at Jia, but his eyes are locked on you. There’s guilt swimming in his gaze, but it’s overpowered by something stronger. Desperation.

Earlier today, after talking to Jia, you called Yoongi to confess that you couldn’t keep it hidden anymore. That you were going to tell her tonight.

His reaction was beyond unhappy. After five minutes of him practically begging you to keep quiet, he abruptly ended the call when he realized you wouldn’t change your mind.

“Jagiya, can I borrow Y/N for a sec—”

“No.” The words leave your lips so firmly that you’re almost surprised.

Behind Yoongi, you catch sight of Jungkook’s approaching figure. His head tilts slightly—his nonverbal way of asking if you’re okay in situations where you guys can’t speak. Ignoring Yoongi’s dejected look, you give Jungkook a small nod before turning back to Jia.

“What’s going on?” Jia’s eyes dart between you and Yoongi. “Why are you both acting so weird?”

“I’m so sorry, Jia—” You begin, your voice shaking.

“Y/N,” Yoongi pleads, but you refuse to look at him.

“Yoongi, just give them some space, man—”

“Don’t tell me what to fucking do, Kook,” Yoongi spits back, taking a further step into the bedroom.

Your brows furrow as your head snaps toward Yoongi. “Don’t talk to him like that. I’m telling her—”

“Tell me what?” Jia huffs as she steps forward, and soon the couple are both staring at you with two very different strands of frustrated expressions.

Your heart pounds at both the lack of distance and the looks you’re receiving, but you push through. You can do this. “Ji, on Friday—”

“Jagiya, wait, don’t liste—”

Jungkook’s scoff cuts Yoongi off, and you can see both men getting more and more heated by the second. He doesn’t take his eyes off Yoongi when he speaks to you. “Bug, take Jia into the living room. I need to talk to Yoongi.”

Yoongi turns to glare at Jungkook. “Stay the fuck out of this, Jeongguk.”

“Or what?” Jungkook’s reply is immediate, his brows raising as if he genuinely wanted to know the answer.

“Y/N, just spit it out. What are you saying?” Jia demands, her voice rising with frustration.

“I—”

“Don’t, Y/N,” Yoongi warns, stepping forward, but Jungkook stops him.

“Stop fucking walking closer to her, Yoongi—”

“You have no fucking right, Y/N—”

“Y/N, just tell me—”

“No, Jagi, stop—”

“Yoongi, fuck off! Just let her tell me—”

“I slept with him.”

All the noise in the room dies out at your words. Jungkook is standing beside you now, his arm brushing lightly against yours, but you can barely feel it. All you can feel is Jia’s eyes on you, her expression completely unreadable.

Tears well up in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “I slept with Yoongi when Jeongguk was taking you to your mom’s. Jia, you need to know how fucking sorry I am. I wasn’t thinking straight, and-and it just happened—”

“It just happened?” Jia’s voice cuts through your apology with a pitying laugh. Her eyes never leave yours, not even to glance at her boyfriend, who’s running his hand through his hair roughly, his eyes red-rimmed. For someone who said it was so unimportant and didn’t matter, he sure isn’t acting like it.

“No, I—no. It didn’t just happen. I did it. And I can’t explain how fucking sorry I am—”

“Yeah, you said that already,” Jia interrupts, her tone dismissive. Her gaze rakes over your body as though she’s bored.

You stand there, struggling to find the right words. “I know I broke your trust, Jia, and I’m so s—”

“If you say you’re sorry one more time, bug…” Jia rolls her eyes, brushing her hair back over her shoulder before turning to check her reflection in the mirror.

Your mouth snaps shut.

Where’s the screaming? Where’s the kicking you out of her apartment? Where’s the—

“Who initiated it?” Jia’s tone is uninterested as she runs a finger gently around the edge of her slightly smudged lip liner.

You glance at Yoongi, but his eyes are glued to the floor. “I don’t remember,” you admit quietly. The moment was a blur—his confession had thrown you off balance. It could’ve been him, but maybe it was you.

Jia gives you a skeptical look through the mirror, as if she doesn’t believe you, but then she turns to Yoongi. “Who initiated it, Jagi?”

As Yoongi hesitates, you feel Jungkook’s eyes on you again. You glance up at him, the boy who had been seething with anger just minutes ago, only to find him looking at you in concern. Blinking away the tears, you reach out to brush the back of his hand with your pinky finger.

“I did, Jagiya. I’m sorry. I was hurt that you left me, and I needed to forget,” Yoongi finally says.

His explanation seems to bring some relief to Jia’s face, and you brace yourself for the inevitable ache in your chest at his words. But it doesn’t come. If anything, Jungkook is more affected by what he had to say, judging by the way his jaw tightens and his hand clenches into a fist beneath your pinky.

“Okay,” Jia nods at Yoongi before reaching for her clutch on the dresser. As she casually tucks her phone and keys inside, you glance over at Jungkook, your confusion evident, but the look he returns is calm—like he expected this.

With a roll of her eyes, Jia glances back at the three of you. “Did you bring the tequila like I asked?”

When her eyes meet yours, you nod instinctively, trying your best to mask your unease. “Yes. It’s, um, in the kitchen. Jia, is everything—”

“We weren’t together, Y/N. It’s not like you’re still fucking… are you?”

“No.” You choke instantly, almost shuddering at the thought.

“Okay, then. Let’s start pres and then go.” With that, Jia walks out of the room, leaving you standing there, completely dumbfounded.

This isn’t what you were expecting.

You’ve never experienced Jia’s anger firsthand, but you’ve witnessed it many times before, and this is the last reaction you could’ve ever expected.

Maybe she’s in shock, and it’ll come ot later. Or maybe… maybe she really doesn’t think it’s a big deal? She’s so incredible like that, so understanding.

The room stays quiet as Jungkook remains rooted beside you. Yoongi lets out a short sniffle before trailing after Jia without glancing at either of you. The door slams shut behind him, leaving you and Jungkook alone in his bedroom.

As soon as Yoongi’s gone, Jungkook turns to face you, the warmth of his body washing a sense of comfort over you that you don’t deserve in the slightest.

“Are you alright, bug?” he asks carefully, his hand lifting to adjust the strap of your top that had shifted slightly across your shoulder.

“Of course I’m okay. I just… I don’t understand, she’s not even mad at me—”

“Good. She shouldn’t be—”

“What? Yes, she should, Jeongguk.” His brows furrow. “Please, stop acting like I did nothing wrong—”

“You think I didn’t notice how you took all the blame when you were telling her?”

“It doesn’t matter how it came off, Jeongguk.” His expression tenses further.  “It doesn’t matter how I sugar coat it. The fact is, we messed up. And she’s so fucking nice that she didn’t even—”

“Nice?” He almost scoffs, his lips twisting into a wry smile. “Bug, did you really not see that response for what it truly was? Come on…”

“What are you talking about?” You try to keep your voice down despite the door being closed and a random Drake song pounding through the walls. “You saw the same thing I did! She barely even said anything—”

“Exactly. She barely said anything. We’ve known her for how many years? And when has Seong Jia ever not said something? Think about it, bug. She’s going to hold onto this and use it against you—”

“Why do you always think the worst? Why do you think so poorly of her—”

“Because I see the way she fucking treats you, Y/N!” Jungkook takes a step back, his voice rising as frustration pulses through him. “Even if you don’t see it, I see it.”

Your eyes well up with tears, and you blink rapidly, trying to keep them at bay. In the fifteen years you’ve known Jungkook, you’ve only had two heated arguments—this being the third. And, though you push the thought aside, you can’t ignore that all three fights were about Jia.

“This—this blind loyalty you have for me is flattering,” you mutter bitterly through your tears, “but you’re wrong. She’s a good friend.”

“Blind loyalty?” He forces a laugh, incredulous. “The only thing blind is you for not being able to tell when someone’s treating you like shit!”

“Yeah?” you scoff.

“Yeah.” He nods mockingly, taking a step closer. “You think you haven’t earned my fucking loyalty?”

“Oh, I know I have.” You cross your arms defensively. “If I’ve earned anything, it’s your fucking loyalty! But you need to acknowledge that I can make mistakes too—”

“I do acknowledge when you make mistakes.”

“No, you don’t, Jeongguk!” Your hands fly out in a frustrated gesture as he closes the distance between you even more. “You didn’t when I overfed your goldfish and it died from bloating! You didn’t when I signed up for that People Magazine free trial using your card, and you got charged for an entire year! And now you’re doing it again—”

“That shit doesn’t matter, bug!”

“You’re saying this doesn’t matter?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“How could it possibly not matter—”

“Because I know what it feels like to be so in love with somebody that it consumes you.”

Your mouth snaps shut. As Jungkook continues, his gaze remains fixed on you, but his eyes are distant. “That any sign of that feeling truly being reciprocated would make you do unspeakable fucking things.”

The frustration coursing through your veins fizzles out, replaced by a sudden, painful wave of pure jeal—confusion.

“What?” It comes out as a whisper.

Jungkook doesn’t answer, his eyes just continuing to trace the lines of your face.

“You love somebody?” The bitterness in your tone is obvious, but you don’t can't stop. “We tell each other everything… and you didn’t care to tell me that you’re in love with someone?”

His silence is so unsettling that it prompts a painful laugh from you. “Oh, okay.” You give a sharp nod, “if that’s how you want to be. Fine. I’ll just start keeping fucking secrets from you too, then.”

The lack of response from him only fuels the fire inside you, and before you can stop yourself, the words keep pouring out. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Why wouldn’t you tell me? Is it someone from uni? What the fuck, Jeongguk—”

“It’s nobody you know.”

“I—” You stare at him, your eyes wide, disbelief flooding your system as your arms drop to your sides. “I know everyone you know!”

This time, you don’t even try to stop the tears that are building behind your lashes from spilling over. But the fiery, sour feeling burning a hole in your gut is too strong, too raw, and you’re not ready to acknowledge what it might mean.

“If you don’t want to tell me, fine. But don’t lie to me.” Your voice trembles at the end as you lift a shaky hand to wipe under your nose, choking back a sob as tears slip into your breath.

Jungkook’s expression softens as he takes a step forward, cautiously reaching out his hand to touch your arm.

He tries not to think that your reaction is anything but a best friend being upset that their best friend didn’t tell them about an important part of their life.

He tries not to think that your reaction is because you can’t stand to think of him being in love with someone else.

He tries not to think about how much every cell in his body has ignited at the thought of you being possessive of him. Jealous of the person he’s in love with.

But it’s hard. So fucking hard. Because all he can see is the pain in your eyes, the hurt etched across your face.

Such a sight would usually bring him to his knees and have him doing anything to make the pain go away. But now, as fucked up as it is, all he feels is hope. Hope that maybe the reason you’re so upset is because you feel the same way he does.

“I’ve never lied to you, bug.” His voice is soft as he rubs up and down your bare arms gently.

“Hm,” you croak, wiping more tears away. “Until now.”

“Until now,” Jungkook echoes quietly, lifting his hand to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears that won't fucking stop.

You don’t know why you’re crying harder than you have in God knows how long. Why you don’t push Jungkook’s hand away even though you’re mad at him. Why you’re even mad in the first place.

Well, like you said earlier: you are an overreactor.

But it’s not like you and Jungkook haven’t had lovers in the past.

You had your first boyfriend last year, a sweet senior named Kim Taehyung. He was a great guy—kind, easygoing, gorgeous. He got along with most of your friends, and you were especially glad Jungkook liked him as his approval was the toughest to earn.

But something about Jungkook must have rubbed Taehyung the wrong way.

Before you and Tae officially started dating, you’d first met at a frat party that you attended with Jungkook as Yoongi and Jia had stayed in that night. The two of them got on super well, and you guys had even teamed up for beer pong together.

But after a few dates, and you eventually saying yes when he asked to go steady, things began to change.

Taehyung started asking you to sleep over at his frat more often, something you didn't really like to do (and something Jungkook certainly didn't like you doing either).

Soon, he was asking for details on which friends you were with whenever you hung out with someone. He even began to ask to switch to FaceTime calls when you’d mention specific names and leave out others.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. You’re a naturally clingy person too, so maybe it was just his way of showing he cared. But when he requested that you spend less time with just one friend in particular, that was where you drew the line.

It confused you, especially since you’d already cut back from spending all of your free time with Jungkook to about 40%, but he still wanted more. You’d told Taehyung from the start that Jungkook was your best friend and a huge part of your life, that you guys have always been close. He had no problem with that. Well, in the beginning, at least.

Naturally, you told Jungkook about Taehyung’s request, and you’d never seen him so angry. You reassured him not to worry, that it all wasn't sitting well with you, that you'd be ending things soon.

Jungkook relaxed at that.

He also dropped to his knees that night and sent up a prayer to the Goddess that it was finally fucking over. But you didn’t need to know that part.

As for Jungkook, he’s never been in relationship. He has been with two girls, though. Park Iseul and Cho Jiwon.

Iseul was great. You and her shared an Economics lecture, and you even used to sit next to her during classes.

She’d usually ask about Jungkook, and you’d give her updates, letting her know he was doing well. But whenever you’d try to pass on her messages to Jungkook, he would just refuse to hear them, asking you to stop sitting near her.

It seemed like Iseul picked up on the hint since she gradually found other seats during class, and so did you. You didn’t mind; she was still super nice, but you did scold Jungkook for his behavior. He apologized, but only to you, not to her.

Your encounter with Cho Jiwon, however, was… different.

‹ ‹ ‹

“Uhhh…”

The voice caught you off guard, making you turn from shutting the door behind you. Sitting at Jungkook’s kitchen island with a bowl of muesli, was a female around your age. You glanced at your surroundings, then the key in your hand to make sure this was indeed your best friend's apartment. It was.

“Oh, hello.” You greeted the pretty girl with a nod, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

“Hello?” she responded, confused. Her eyes roamed over your Seoul Cinema uniform before narrowing slightly. “Who are you?”

“I’m Y/N,” you responded quietly. Unsure of what to say or do, you hesitated. “And… um, you?”

“Jiwon,” she replied, squinting a little. “Are you his girlfriend or something? Because he said he was single, but I should’ve known; he literally stopped in the middle of sex last night to answer a text…” Her voice trailed off as she tilted her head, “Wait, what was your name again?”

You blinked, a frown edging onto your face for her. You opened your mouth to repeat yourself when Jungkook stumbled out of his bedroom, rubbing a sleepy hand over his face.

“Bug?" He croaked, making his way toward you. "You okay? I was gonna come get you in a bit.” His bare chest was still warm as he wrapped his arms around you.

You pulled back from the hug with a quick apology. “Sorry, I got ready early and just walked over,” you said, gesturing toward Jiwon, still munching on her cereal. “Didn’t know you had someone over, though. I should’ve texted. I can ask Taehyung to drop me off at work and we can reschedule?”

Jungkook looked down at you, confused, then followed your gaze to Jiwon, who was still seated at his kitchen counter. He blinked in surprise, as though he had only just registered her presence. “Uh…are you okay?”

Your gaze snapped to his in surprise, and Jiwon’s expression turned sour. “What?”

“I thought you were leaving…” Jungkook’s brows knitted in confusion, eyeing her attire, which consisted only of his t-shirt. He hated that you were seeing this. “Did you need money for an Uber?”

“Jeongguk,” you frowned, shifting your bag on your shoulder as you glared at him. But Jiwon just rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“You could do so much better, girl,” she sneered at you, tugging off Jungkook’s t-shirt and tossing it at him as she got up. He caught it with little reaction, watching indifferently as she headed toward his room in her bra and underwear.

You were about to nudge him to apologize when she reemerged in her dress a moment later, throwing a glare over her shoulder. “Way better than a lying cheater, anyway.”

You opened your mouth to clarify. “No, Jiwon, we’re not—”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Jihyo,” Jungkook cut in boredly. “So, did you need money for that Uber?”

Your jaw dropped as you stared at him in utter disbelief while Jiwon just shook her head with a scoff. She angrily brushed past him and left, slamming the door behind her.

“Jeongguk, that was so rude.”

Jungkook just shrugged, tipping her cereal down the disposal and rinsing the bowl. “Bug, I already told her I had something to do in the morning and I’d need her to leave by 8 if she wanted to stay over.”

“I wish you would've told me. I wouldn’t have just barged in without calling first. That was so awkward.”

“You never need to call when you’re coming over,” he gave you a look. “And it wasn’t awkward.” He shrugged again, opening his dishwasher and putting the singular bowl and spoon in before starting a cycle.

“It was a little awkward,” you murmured, sighing. “You could have at least offered her a ride home.”

“Okay, okay, bug. I’ll repent for my sins later,” he nodded, walking over to slip your bag off your shoulder and set it on the couch. “You okay, though? Why’d you come over so early? I thought we were seeing the 10 o'clock movie since your shift starts at 1?”

You just shrugged, eyes shifting to the floor. Jungkook’s big hands cupped your face, gently tilting it up so you were looking at him. "Hm?" he prompted, squishing your cheeks slightly, coaxing your lips into a cute little pout.

When he let go enough for you to speak, you mumbled, “Dunno…haven’t seen you in a few days. Missed you.”

His brows knitted together, and his arms slid down to your waist, pulling you closer. “I missed you more, bug. What’s up, though? Did something happen?”

You exhaled, leaning into his chest as your arms wrapped around him. “No, just…feels weird not seeing you every day. I don't like it.”

His heart thumped at your words, and his fingers traced small circles along your back. “I get it. It's weird for me too. But your boyfriend probably doesn't like it very much, hm?”

You pulled back slightly to frown, “Gukkie—”

“Kidding,” he murmured with a soft chuckle, resting his head in the nape of your neck. He was most certainly not kidding. “I’m gonna shower, and then we can have some breakfast before we go, okay?”

You nodded, scratching his back a little as he pulled away, heading toward the bathroom while you settled on the couch to wait.

Breakfast was yummy. The movie was great. You and Taehyung broke up a week later.

› › ›

“Can you please tell me who it is?” you ask, looking up at him with a sniffle, feeling utterly defeated. You need to know.

Jungkook has never denied you when you ask him for something. Ever.

You would usually never take advantage of such a gift, but right now, you’re desperate. You know that this feeling won’t go away until he tells you. You need to know.

“I can.” His hand still rests on your cheek, his thumb pausing its soft caress as your tears finally stop. But even then, he doesn’t meet your gaze, his eyes fixed somewhere on the lower part of your face.

“Will you?” you ask, trying to catch his eye, but his gaze remains fixed on the bottom half of your face.

“I will,” he confirms tensely, reluctantly lifting his eyes to meet yours. His irises are a little darker than usual. “But I won’t tell you their name... I want you to guess for me, bug.”

Your brows furrow harshly, and you take a step back, not in the mood for games. But Jungkook immediately follows suit, as if he expected your movements. He easily closes the distance between you without losing the contact between your face and his hand.

“You’re really playing with me right now? Seriously, Jeong—”

“She’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

Well, okay then.

You stop yourself from flinching, eyes snapping up to his to find them already locked on yours.

“She’s so fucking funny. Makes me laugh harder than anyone else in the world. And she doesn't even try.”

Yep. You’ve heard enough.

You swallow hard and raise your hand in an attempt to stop him, your mind racing for words. The fingers of his free hand wrap easily around your risen palm, bringing it to rest flat against his chest.

“All she has to do is walk in the room, and my heart beats so fucking hard that I’m scared she’s gonna hear it one day.”

You feel it—the rapid thump of his heartbeat beneath your palm. Your breath catches in your throat, and when your eyes meet his, you try to look away from the intensity, but you can’t.

No matter how foggy your vision becomes with tears, no matter how badly your hand trembles against his chest, no matter how hard it is to breathe with him looking at you like that—you can’t look away.

“I check my phone every five fucking minutes when we’re apart, just to see if she’s thinking about me like I’m thinking about her.”

Jungkook’s figure becomes a watery, blurry blob because you refuse to blink, as if the millisecond that your eyes are closed will somehow cause you to miss something crucial.

“She’s the first person I think of when I open my eyes in the morning,” he says quietly, “and the last when I fall asleep. I’m reminded of her by every single fucking thing. Even a stupid little toy figurine that looks nothing like her.”

At that, something inside you snaps, and without a second thought, you shove his hands away from you. Before he can react, your hands slide up to the back of his neck, pulling him down and pressing his mouth firmly against yours. Your eyes fall shut at the warmth of his lips, and then it happens.

Bursts of color explode behind your closed eyelids, vibrant and electric, filling every corner of your mind.

A surge of relief sweeps through your veins, washing away every single thing that came before this moment in a wave of perfect clarity.

Your fingers tighten their grip on the back of his neck, feeling his surprise blend into pure pleasure. His hands slip to your sides as he pulls you closer, every muscle in his body loosening as he melts into the kiss. It’s warm, soft, sweet. Your mouths are closed, eyes shut, simply savoring the feeling of being with the person you care about most in the entire world.

You’re happy. You’re relieved. And for the first time in the last eight days, you’re not confused in the slightest.

"Any guesses?" Jungkook murmurs against your lips as you pull back slightly for air.

You laugh through the tears that had spilled out before you kissed, as his hands lift from your hips to brush them away. "Hmm," you hum, leaning into his hand on your face, "Jia?"

“Ooh, close…” He squints teasingly with a smirk, his thumb swiping away a tear that had fallen to your pouty lip. “Just think, like, five times less bitchy and ten times hotter.”

A watery laugh escapes you, and you fall forward, resting your forehead against his chest. You sniffle and shake your head. “I can’t believe you just confessed your love for me in Yoongi and Jia’s bedroom.” Jungkook’s soft chuckle fills the room, making your heart flutter. “That’s such a you thing to do,” you add as you pull back to look up at him.

“You’re not wrong,” he replies, his smile softening as he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

His hand finds yours, and he glances toward the door, a faint awareness in his eyes. He’s not sure how many songs have played while you’ve been holed up together, but it’s been long enough to raise suspicion. “C’mon, bug,” he murmurs, gently tugging you toward the door.

But your brows knit together as he tries to lead you out. “What?”

Jungkook turns back, his expression relaxed and a little curious. “Hm?”

“I—” You pause, caught off guard by how casually he seems ready to move on. “You don’t want to talk about… things?”

His eyes glimmer with amusement as he steps closer. “Things?”

“You just told me you’re in love with me, and kissed me, and—"

“You kissed me,” he teases softly, his lips quirking up when you glare at him with the cutest, slightly swollen pout.

“You don’t want me to… say anything? To say it back?” you ask quietly, letting him take your other hand into his hold so he has both of them, tugging you a little closer.

Jungkook’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, and your eyes track the movement, unable to forget the way they felt against yours. He’s so close now that the heat of his body warms the space between you, the scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering smell of the cigarette he had on the drive over swirling around you.

“I didn’t tell you for something in return, bug,” he says gently, his thumbs tracing slow circles over your knuckles. “I told you because you wanted to know,” he adds with a slight shrug, “and because I wanted you to know.”

The simplicity of his words takes you by surprise. There’s no pressure in his gaze, no expectation. Your heart aches in a way you’ve never felt before.

“And if I want to say it back?” you whisper, eyes looking between his.

Jungkook does the same, looking for any trace of uncertainty in yours before asking quietly, "Do you mean it?"

“More than I think I even understand,” the words tumble out before you can second-guess them.

"Then say it."

“I’m so in love with you, Gukkie,” you whisper instantly, as if it were a command, “I thought I knew what love was, but… you’re love. Everything about you, everything you do is love.” Jungkook swallows hard, his thumbs still tracing softly over your knuckles. “We’re still so young, and there’s so much more to do… But I want to do it all with you.”

“Fucking hell, bug,” he mutters under his breath before his lips crash back into yours.

This kiss is deep, urgent, like he’s trying to tell you something through it.

And, god, Jungkook had always been a good storyteller.

Your hands slip free from his, finding the sides of his neck, grasping for balance as his hands slide to the small of your back, steadying you when you almost stumble.

Your fingers curl into the warm, strong muscles of his shoulders, and you return his kiss with the same intensity, the taste of him filling all of your senses. His lips feel warmer, smokier, like everything about him is more intense now. And in that moment, everything else just fades away.

When you part your lips, an ache for more already tugging at you, his tongue slips in like it’s been waiting the whole time. A soft, satisfied hum escapes you, and he mirrors it, his sound a little throatier as his tongue intertwines with yours.

Jungkook’s hands slide over you—your sides, your hips, your back—as if he’s committing the feel of you to memory, like he’s afraid this is the only time he’ll ever have the chance. The soft, wet sounds of your tongues moving together fill your ears, and you know that if you have any say in it, this will be far from the last time.

A low groan bubbles in Jungkook’s throat when you press yourself closer to him and his fingers instinctively tighten around your sides.

Then he hears it.

Jungkook pulls back quickly but carefully, his gaze lingering on yours as his hands smooth over your hair, fixing where his fingers had tousled it. His thumb brushes over your shoulder, adjusting the strap of your top that had slipped down again, while his other hand runs along the edge of your lips to fix your smudged lip gloss He licks his own lips to remove any residue and you pout, about to ask if he’s okay when the door swings open.

“Hellooo? What's taking so long? The Uber’s here and the guys are already at Joonie's.” Jia bellows, raising her brows as she glances between the two of you. “Come on, you can pregame in the car.”

Jungkook looks at you, waiting. You nod at her, your fingers brushing against his as you step back, clearing your throat and tucking your hair behind your ear. “Okay, Ji, sorry. We’re coming.”

She just nods, leaving the door open as she turns back to Yoongi, who’s waiting with her jacket. He hands it over wordlessly before leading her outside.

Jungkook’s gaze lingers on you, quiet and searching. “You sure you still want to go?”

You take a breath, nodding. “Yeah, if Jia still wants me to come, it’s the least I can do. Do you still want to go?”

His lips press together for a second, but he nods, his hand sliding down to interlock with yours as you both walk out of the bedroom. He grabs his car keys from the counter on the way, but as you approach the door, a frown creases your forehead.

“You’re not driving us, right, Gukkie?” you ask, eyeing the keys in his hand.

He glances down at you, a faintly amused smile touching his lips. “Yeah, I am, bug. Why? Did you want to take the Uber with them?”

You shake your head, but the frown doesn’t leave. “No, but... you’re not gonna drink tonight?”

Jungkook shrugs lightly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before he lets it go so you can grab your mini purse from the counter and slip it over your shoulder. He reclaims your hand when you’re done, guiding you out of the apartment. “Not tonight, bug.”

The sadness in your eyes makes him pause, and you glance up at him. “Why? Is everything okay? I don’t like drinking when you don't drink.” Your voice softens, lips forming a small pout as he presses the down arrow for the elevator.

He smiles at the sight, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “I just wanted to drive you home, that’s all, bug.” His smile turns slightly amused. “But I’ll drink if you want to. You know I’m always down to drink with you.”

Your face brightens, leaning into his side to give him a soft thank you. As the elevator dings open, your phone vibrates in your clutch. You pull it out and giggle at the screen, tilting it toward Jungkook. He rolls his eyes, his lips twitching as he ushers you inside the elevator when it reaches your floor.

[9:57pm] From: Ji HELLOOO???? oh my god get down here. this fucking freak is trying to charge us twice for making him wait like two minutes

The crisp night air envelopes you as soon as you and Jungkook step outside the apartment complex, refreshing your skin and helping to calm your racing mind.

When you had both arrived at Yoongi and Jia's earlier in the night, you received a very quizzical look from your best friend as you climbed out of his Jeep.

‹ ‹ ‹

You extended your hand, waiting for him to come around to your side of the car before intertwining your fingers. Instead of locking the car, he paused, glancing back through the windows as if searching for something.

“Gukkie? You okay?” you asked, tilting your head at his hesitation. “I have your phone in my purse, remember?”

“Bug, where’s your jacket?” he asked, his brows furrowing as he looked over your outfit. He gave the Jeep’s seats another quick scan, hoping you’d just forgotten to grab it.

You shook your head, giving his hand a little tug to urge him forward. “I didn’t bring one. Couldn't find one that worked with my outfit. It’s okay, Gukkie, I'm not cold.”

But he didn’t budge. “Bug…” he said with a sigh, eyes scanning the backseat to see if he had left one of his jackets in there that you could wear. Nothing.

“Gukkie,” you laughed at the way his frown deepened, tugging his hand again. “You don’t have a jacket either, hm. Besides, there’s a small chance we’re even going out tonight anyway...”

Your voice softened, and Jungkook paused, sighing as the urge to drive home and grab you a jacket waned a bit. He pressed the lock button on his key fob with reluctance and let you pull him along up the path to the building.

His free hand slid up your arm as you walked, checking that your skin was still warm. It was, luckily for you, or he would've been plopping you back in the passenger seat to go back and get you a coat no matter how much you complained.

Jungkook knew Jia’s firm stance against jackets and outerwear—always “ruining the aesthetic" or something of the sort. He didn’t really pay much attention to what she said unless it involved you, if he was being honest.

And the thought of you borrowing one of Yoongi’s didn’t even get a chance to settle in his mind before he forced it far, far away.

› › ›

The scene with Jungkook in Jia’s room replays over and over in your head, but there’s a new lightness to it now—a weight lifted, even though you know the lines between you have definitely blurred. There’s more to think about, maybe more to figure out, but as you glance up at Jungkook’s peaceful expression, you find that you don’t mind it right now.

Reaching the end of the path, Yoongi hops out of the car and pulls the seat forward to let you into the back. “Hi, sorry for the wait,” you apologize softly to the driver, offering a polite smile as Jungkook takes your purse. His hand settles warmly on your back, guiding you in as you climb into the backseat.

The driver just mutters something under his breath and waits as Jungkook slides in next to you. Yoongi settles back beside Jia, who’s typing something on her phone, closing the door as the driver pulls out onto the road.

In the quiet hum of the car, you lean back, stealing a quick glance at Jungkook. He catches it, his lips quirking up as he shifts just a little closer, one hand slipping over yours where it rests on your lap. You turn your hand over and intertwine it with his, using your free hand to play with his fingers, tracing over the lines of his pretty tattoos. You rest your head on his shoulder, your eyes fluttering closed.

You can’t wait to drink.

It’s about twenty-five minutes later when you arrive at Joonie’s nightclub.

Jia had managed to convince the Uber driver to let you guys drink a little with the promise of a 50% tip, and as soon as he agreed, she swiftly pulled the bottle of tequila up from beneath her seat. She took a sip and handed it to Yoongi, who did the same before passing it to the back. Jungkook let you take a mouthful before he did, and you each took one more, his shots a little bigger than yours.

As you step inside, the music is loud, vibrating the ground as colored lights flicker across the floor. You spot the rest of your friends by a table in the corner, already clinking shot glasses together and throwing them back. When they see the four of you, their faces light up, and soon they’re stumbling over for hugs and half-drunk hellos.

Jimin is the first to reach you, a bright grin spreading across his face as he wraps you in a tight hug, swaying you from side to side. “Hi, angel! Gah, y'always look so pretty without an apron on! Good to see you—ah, hey, Kook! Get over here, you big thing,” he beams, pulling away from you to bring Jungkook down into an equally enthusiastic hug.

“Hey, Jimin-ah,” Jungkook responds, returning the hug and then straightening to stand by your side again.

Jimin stands there, his eyes raking over both of you for a moment before he lets out a sigh and gives something similar to a nod of approval.

You shake your head, laughing as you adjust your purse. “How much have you had to drink already, Jiminie?”

“Not nearly enough,” he quips instantly, glancing back at the group where the others are ushering Jia and Yoongi over to their table. “And judging by the fact you’re not red as a tomato yet… neither have you. Come on,” he grins, grabbing both your arms and pulling you and Jungkook toward the rest of the group.

When you guys reach the circle, you exchange hugs and little hiii, I missed you's until you reach the last person at the table.

"Hey, Y/N," Taehyung greets, pulling you into a warm hug.

Blinking in surprise as you pull back, you smile. "Hey, Tae? I didn’t know you were coming tonight. How are you?”

Taehyung nods, his hand resting casually on his beer. “Yeah, been okay. You?”

“Good, thanks Tae,” you reply with a soft smile, stepping back beside Jungkook.

“Oh, hey, Jungkook-ah, how are you, man?” Taehyung continues, extending a hand.

Jungkook takes it, and they do a little bro shake before he settles next to you again. “Really good, man, thanks,” he nods, glancing over the table before turning to you. “I’m gonna go get our drinks. Did y'want a long Island?”

Your eyes light up, and you nod, starting to walk with him to the bar when Valerie calls out, “Y/N! Babe, come take a photo! The lighting is soo cute over here.”

You turn back around, “One sec, Val, I’m just going to grab—”

“It’s okay, bug. I won’t be long,” Jungkook says quietly, running his hand down your arm as you glance over at him.

“Oh, okay.” You nod, looking up at him.

He raises his brows with an amused look when you don't move for a while. “Go on,” he nudges his head toward your friends, watching as you nod again with a cute smile and head over to Jia, Valerie, and Jimin. His gaze lingers as Yoongi takes the phone from Jia, and you all get ready to pose for the photos.

Sliding in next to Jia feels like second nature as your arm wraps around her waist, but as realization dawns, you quickly move to pull back, unsure if that's okay anymore.

Jia just rolls her eyes, grabbing your arm and placing it firmly back around her waist before leaning into you. The two of you settle in for the shot, and you smile, resting your head on her shoulder as the flash goes off, Yoongi snapping a bunch of photos of the four of you.

Once Jia finally deems the hundred pictures her boyfriend has taken as enough, your little group breaks away, with Jimin and Valerie immediately rushing over to review the results.

You start to follow them but pause when you catch sight of Taehyung at the end of the table, sitting alone and staring at his beer. You frown, looking around for Hoseok and Jin, but they seem to have wandered off, leaving him by himself.

You slide into the seat beside him. “Hey,” you greet, and Taehyung looks up, returning a small smile. "You okay?"

“Hey,” he chuckles lightly. “Yeah, why, do I look all depressed and lonely right now?”

With a grin, you pick up the tiny umbrella from an empty glass nearby, twirling it in your fingers. “No. Just a little alone,” you hum. “Where did Jin and Hobi go?”

“Out for a smoke,” Taehyung answers, his eyes lingering on you for a second before glancing back at his drink. Just as you’re about to ask if he wants another beer since his looks low, Jungkook arrives back at the table.

He sets your drink in front of you, still holding his own glass, and pulls up a chair beside you. “Thanks, Gukkie,” you smile, pulling the cup toward you to take a sip.

Jungkook gives you a little nod, resting a hand on your leg. His gaze shifts, noticing how Taehyung’s eyes follow the movement of your mouth as you wrap your lips around the straw. Jungkook’s tongue flicks over his lips before he takes a silent mouthful of his drink, watching as the two of you chat.

It's not long before Jimin brings over a large tray to the table, all your friends cheering in excitement as he sets it down with a grin.

"Shots!"

“Shit, bug, wait, watch your step, I just—”

Jungkook’s warning doesn’t reach your inebriated brain in time, and you stumble over the step he nearly tripped on himself, letting out a little curse. Before you can fall forward, his arms are already around you, pulling you back upright.

“Gukkie,” you whine, “why did you push me?” you grumble, your cheeks rosy from the endless shots Jimin kept feeding you and the lingering heat of the dance floor you two had been on all night.

Not that you’ll remember most of this tomorrow, considering you went over your limit about two Long Island iced teas ago, but tonight was one of the best nights you’ve had in a very long time.

Jia mostly clung to Valerie for the night, but that didn’t matter—you and Jungkook had more than enough fun on your own. Jimin even took Taehyung under his wing, and the four of you ended up spinning around on the dance floor after you convinced Jungkook to join in too. He’s so good at it, you’ve never understood why he doesn’t dance more often, but he indulged you tonight. And it was so fucking amazing.

“I didn’t push you, bug,” he grumbles back, holding you steady as he blinks, trying to get his own hazy vision under control.

If you went past your limit, Jungkook went double down. He can handle his alcohol—much better than you, at least—but you guys were having so much fun, and he loves drinking with you, so he went all out. When you took a shot, he took two. When you stood in front of him, lifting a cup to his lips with a sweet, urging little smile, who the fuck was he to say no?

“Gukkie, where’s your car?” you ask, squinting up the street, arm looping through his as you both stagger down the sidewalk. The chilly night air nips at your bare legs, but the warmth of the alcohol keeps it at bay as you rest your head lazily on his bicep.

“Uhh,” Jungkook mutters, scanning the line of parked cars as he tries to spot his Jeep. “I dunno, baby. Let’s just walk home.”

You nod in agreement, too tipsy to consider that the walk back to either of your apartments would take at least an hour—probably more, but you don’t care. Right now, it feels like you could walk for miles, just like this.

“Okay, but—” you trail off, eyes drifting as he stops running his hand over the one of yours clinging to his bicep. He turns to you with a little frown. “But what? D'you want to take your heels off?”

You blink up at him, the blur of alcohol softening everything but his face, his features as clear and pretty as ever. “You called me baby,” you say, a wide, drunk grin lighting up your face as you gaze up at him, utterly enchanted.

Jungkook’s brows knit together in confusion. He glances forward to ensure you both don’t veer into anything, then looks back down at you. “What, bug?”

“You called me baby,” you repeat, leaning your head against his arm with a happy squeeze. “Gosh, Gukkie, I hope I remember this when I wake up.”

Jungkook blinks a little at that, turning his head to face the path in front of him as you both keep walking. Did he call you baby? It must’ve just slipped out. He’s never called anyone that—not even while drunk, as far as he knows. The thought lingers for a moment, but when Jungkook feels you shiver slightly and yawn against his arm, that’s all it takes for him to have his first sober thought since his umpteenth vodka shot.

“Bug,” he says, pulling you to a gentle stop, his gaze drifting over your goosebump-covered legs and sleepy eyes. You blink up at him, a soft, confused smile lifting your lips as you glance around, wondering why you’ve stopped. “I need to get us an Uber,” Jungkook murmurs, rubbing his hands over your cold arms to warm you. “Come sit with me. Gonna order it.”

He looks around for a seat, but there isn’t one in sight, so he guides you to the curb and sits down, holding his arms open as you step in front of him and plop between his legs. Making sure you're settled, he pulls out his phone, blinking hard to try and get the numbers on the screen to stay still enough to punch in his passcode.

You lean back into his hold, his free arm wrapping around your stomach as your eyes flutter shut, your fingers tracing softly over the inked patterns on his arm. “So warm,” you mumble, lost in the feel of his skin against yours.

Jungkook tilts his head a little as you lean further into him, the tip of your nose brushing against his neck. He swallows, his pulse quickening as he tries to focus on ordering the Uber to your place.

“How are you so warm everywhere?” you sigh dreamily, letting your nose drift up the length of his neck, fingers still tracing along his arm. Jungkook’s breath catches, but he manages to confirm the ride and lock his phone, his other arm wrapping around you, quietly pulling you snug against his chest.

"Can I kiss your neck, Gukkie?"

Jungkook’s eyes shut at your words, every fiber in him reacting to you as he swallows hard. “Just a little, bug. Our uber isn’t far.”

The slight tilt of his head is all the encouragement you need, and you press a gentle, lingering kiss to his nape, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows again. Drawn in by the pretty sight, your mouth latches onto his neck, tasting the warmth of his skin.

“Bug,” he croaks, his voice shaky as your lips press more purposefully, your soft touch just a bit more intentional. “Bug, c’mon, baby, not too much. You’re drunk, I—” His breathing deepens as your tongue traces a warm, wet line over his skin, his hands tightening on your sides as he exhales shakily.

Your lips find a soft spot at the base of his neck, and he lets out another unsteady breath, his body responding without his consent. Humming happily, you let yourself sink into the feeling a little longer before pulling back and admiring your handiwork. It’s not enough to leave a mark, just a faint warmth that’ll fade, but it’s still so pretty. You press one last gentle kiss to the spot before turning back around, leaning contentedly back against his chest.

“Thanks, Gukkie. I like the way your skin tastes,” you smile with your eyes closed, settling your hands over his arms around you, the honesty in your words amplified by the haze of the alcohol.

“God, bug,” Jungkook mumbles once he catches his breath, his fingers running lightly up and down your waist as he adjusts the hem of your top, covering you when it rides up a little. “So cute.”

He watches as a soft, pretty smile curves your lips, eyes still closed as you practically purr into him at his comment.

So. Fucking. Cute.

Jungkook rests his head in the crook of your neck, which is bared just for him. Your head lolls back as you sleepily begin to curl into his embrace. “So pretty,” he breathes into your skin, pressing a light little kiss as he inhales as much of your scent as possible.

He’s kissed you plenty of times—on your forehead, your cheeks, even twice on your fucking lips earlier tonight. But he’s never kissed your neck before.

And it’s addicting.

The aroma of your vanilla-creme body wash mixed with the Miss Dior perfume he buys you for your birthdays—fuck. He could lick it off every inch of your body if you’d let him.

But not tonight.

He knows you get extra touchy with him when you’re drunk, and, yeah, he does with you too. That’s just how you two have always been. But it’s usually just longer cuddles, sitting closer than normal, not leaving each other's side for more than a few minutes.

You’ve never done that to him before.

Maybe it’s because, however intoxicated you may be, your brain recognizes the shift between the two of you from earlier at Yoongi and Jia’s.

God, he fucking hopes so.

Jungkook prays that you’ll remember kissing him tomorrow, even if you’re dazed from the alcohol. Because he is too. But, somehow, he'll make sure he remembers every single second.

i hit the fucking block limit >:( sooo nasty of tumblr 😔 the rest of the fic is available in this reblog 🩷

[pathologicalreid]

the build up | s.r.

in which you and Spencer spend an entire day just waiting to make it to the hotel room

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: reader is fine she's probably just ovulating, fingering, protected p in v sex, spencer does the post-coital pick up clean up, heavy petting (in the beginning), jealousy, kind of one bed trope?, spencer does math so he doesn't come too fast, not very edited, some case details and the case mentions drug use, hotch is a cockblock, spencer's tie is a cockblock word count: 4.23k a/n: okay we are so back thank you for letting me take a day

It starts first thing in the morning.

You and Spencer didn’t need to find your way to the hotel lobby until eight, so once you were both ready to go, the fact that it was only six-thirty took you by surprise. The two of you had been the first to make your way back to the hotel last night, immediately falling asleep once your heads hit the pillows.

As far as hotels went, this one wasn’t so bad. The hot water lasted long enough to get the both of you through the shower, and the promise of a continental breakfast always gave you something to look forward to. It was by pure luck that the hotel just barely had enough rooms for the team—contingent on one pair sharing a king bed.

Hotch had begrudgingly handed you the key cards, letting you know that HR could never find out that he allowed this.

Though, with the home Spencer’s hands had found on your waist, you couldn’t care less what HR had to say about it.

Very slowly, you grind your hips into Spencer’s, sparing a moment to smile against his lips. He had pulled you onto the bed while you were in the middle of getting dressed, electing to take advantage of your room assignment while you still could.

“Spence,” you whisper, your voice gentle in the dim light of dawn.

His hands were firmly set on your waist, you felt the callus on his finger that had been left by his gun, the coarseness of his hand in direct juxtaposition with the soft skin on your torso. Carefully, his thumb sweeps over the band of your bra, wanting to undo your half-adorned outfit.

With your knees on either side of him, you settle onto him, the chiffon of your blouse fluttering onto his bare chest.

Your phone going off is the most unwelcome sound, the LED screen flashing as the phone call comes through. Remaining at your perch, you reach over to the nightstand, unplug your phone, and answer the call, “Hey, Hotch.”

Recognition and a little disappointment dawn on Spencer’s face, his hands dropping to your hips.

“Are you able to be ready in fifteen minutes? There was another killing overnight, and I’d like to get a look at the crime scene while it’s still fresh,” your unit chief asks over the phone, and you find yourself thankful that he hadn’t knocked on your door.

Pressing your lips together, you nod even though he can’t see you, “Yeah,” you sigh, “We’ll be right out.”

The third body makes this the third dumpsite, the magic number that gives Spencer all of the starting points he needs to make headway on a geographic profile. He’ll be directed to the police precinct while you go to the crime scene with other team members.

Groaning, you melodramatically fall sideways onto the mattress, letting your hair fan out on the starchy white sheets of the hotel bed. “We have to go,” you announce mournfully, recognizing just how wrong it is to bury your sexual frustrations while you mentally prepare to spend your day hunting a serial killer.

In your defense, it has been a while.

Spencer gets up before you do, carefully doing up each button of his dress shirt, the plastic buttons sliding through eyelets as he does so. Against your better judgment, you pull yourself to a sitting position in bed, doing up the buttons of your own shirt with considerably less poise before standing and adjusting your pants.

Begrudgingly fully clothed, you step up to Spencer, pulling him closer to you by the fabric of his silk tie. Taking the bottom tail of his tie and pushing the double Windsor knot closer to the hollow of his throat, ignoring your impure thoughts as he hooks his fingers in the belt loops of your dress pants.

Tenderly, Spencer drops a soft kiss on your hairline, “Do you have everything?”

You nod, stepping up on your tiptoes to kiss him, “Yeah, let’s go.”

You’re about ready to sing Emily’s praises when she lifts up two cups of coffee in the air for the two of you to take, you gleefully accept one and take a sip while Spencer takes the other one. Preparing for the burnt sludge you can usually find at a hotel; you cringe when what you find in the cup is almost painfully sweet.

Reaching out your hand for the cup in Spencer’s hand, you shake your head at him, “No way, trade,” you prompt, swapping paper cups with him while he looks at you curiously, “You won’t like that one.”

He lets you trade out the cups without a debate, carefully maneuvering the cups so that you don’t get burnt by the hot coffee. Now you have your proper sludge, bitter to the tongue is better than the sugar rush you would have gotten. Part of you thinks you might be totally desensitized to the taste of burnt coffee, as that’s what you usually find in police precincts, but when you take the first sip of your coffee, you’re immediately proven wrong. Next to you, Spencer chuckles at the distaste that’s sure to be written all over your face.

Trying to ignore the way Spencer is one-handedly adjusting his satchel in front of his crotch, you stare straight ahead to where JJ and Morgan are emerging from the other hallway, “So, what do we know?”

“Similar victimology, about two miles from the last dumpsite,” Prentiss responds, taking a swig of her own coffee, “Hotch and Rossi are bringing the cars around.” She frowns at you slightly, eyeing your appearance as if she knows something you don’t.

Before you can ask, she leans in closely to you, her dark hair brushing your shoulder as she whispers, “The buttons on your shirt are done up wrong.”

Your face warms, eyes widening as she pulls away from you, “I just… got ready in a hurry this morning.”

“I’m sure you did,” she jests, raising her eyebrows as she looks out the door.

Handing your coffee off to Spencer, you reach down to undo the last few buttons of your shirt, grateful that the hotel lobby was empty while you fixed yourself up. “Thanks,” you breathe, taking your coffee back from Spencer before looking down at the redone buttons, just making sure they’re properly done now.

At least you had an easy fix, a quick glance at Spencer’s bag placement tells you he’s having a much harder time hiding the evidence of this morning from your teammates.

Being separated from Spencer allows you to focus all of your energy on the case at hand instead of drifting away to your morning, but as soon as you see him in the conference room, your resolve falters.

While he’s leaning over the table in the precinct, your eyes catch on the way he’s shed his jacket, pushing his sleeves up over his forearms in a way that makes your cheeks heat up. You take a quick detour to the kitchenette and get a glass of water from the jug, hoping to cool yourself off from the inside out.

“Hey,” a familiar voice calls from behind you, his voice is low as he gently sweeps a hand over your back. The movement is soft enough not to raise any local eyebrows about the ethics of your relationship, but it’s enough to send a wave of goosebumps across your body.

Staring at your cup of water like it’s the fountain of youth, you hum in response, “Hi,” you breathe, checking the time on your watch before you close your eyes. “How’s it going?” You ask, nodding your head in the direction of the chaotic whiteboard in the conference room. Whiteboard markers of varying colors and widths are scattered around the table.

“We have a two-mile radius near the neighborhood of Summit Cove, but I’d like to narrow it down. There’s a lot of tree coverage in that area and if the UnSub keeps accelerating his timeline, we won’t be able to cover that much ground before he strikes again.” He explains, either not noticing or not caring about the way one of the local officers is making googly eyes at him.

You keep your eyes on her, but continue your conversation with Spencer, “There’s a reservoir out there too, right? Do you think there could be a connection with the UnSub and the water?”

Thinking about it for a moment, Spencer shakes his head, “It’s not likely. There hasn’t been any indication that water is important to the UnSub so far.”

The two of you share a look, a silent acknowledgment that you couldn’t rule anything out—not in your line of work.

“Are you busy? Maybe a pair of fresh eyes could help narrow down the geo-profile,” he offers, leaning against the laminate counter of the kitchenette.

You hum, “I’m waiting on the toxicology report from our last victim.” Holding out your glass of water to him, you tilt your head to the side, “Will you bring this to the conference room? I’m gonna run to the restroom and I’ll meet you there.”

Spencer nods, taking the cup from your hands, “Are you alright?”

Already making your way to the bathroom, you give a thumbs up behind your back before nearly throwing yourself in the women’s restroom. Pacing around the small space, you take a deep breath, begging to pull yourself together. “You just have to get through this case,” you mutter to yourself, running a hand through your hair.

This morning was the third consecutive time you and Spencer had been interrupted. Every time either one of you initiates sex, something else comes up. The first time, his mother called, which you weren’t entirely sure you’d ever fully recover from. The second time, the fire alarm had gone off in your building, which was the first instance of that happening in the years you’ve lived there. Then, this morning, Hotch had called.

The universe was being a prude, and you were becoming embarrassingly frustrated.

Biting down a yelp, you jump in surprise when the door swings open. With wide eyes, you watch as Spencer shuts the door and locks it, bringing your attention to the fact that you had forgotten to lock it yourself. “What are you doing?” You ask, hoping no one spared him any mind when he went into the bathroom just moments after you.

“What’s wrong?” He ignores your question, cupping your cheeks with a gentleness that makes you want to turn into a puddle. “You’re warm,” he observes, “Are you feeling okay?”

Your head bobs, nervously trying to assure him that for all intents and purposes, you’re okay. “I’m fine,” you whisper, looking into his concerned brown eyes.

His eyebrows lift, and you can tell that he doesn’t believe you. “Well, you’re pacing and talking to yourself in the bathroom of a police precinct, so, deductively, something is going on that you’re not telling me about.”

Groaning, you tilt your head back in an attempt to avoid his gaze, sometimes being a profiler and dating a profiler was a brutal combination. “Shouldn’t you be working on the geo-profile?”

“I’m waiting for the ink to dry on the map,” he expertly maneuvers through your deflection—he’s had years of practice doing it with you. “What’s going on?”

You huff, bringing your head back down and meeting his eyes, “Spencer, I’m horny. I’m like fourteen-year-old boy who’s just seen his first pair of boobs horny. I came in here to talk myself off of a sex ledge and you are not helping to deplete my need to jump your bones.”

One look at him tells you he’s trying his best not to laugh, which would just make you feel more ridiculous. “Angel,” he says seriously, “What is a sex ledge?”

“I don’t know!” You reel yourself in, not wanting to draw attention to the bathroom, “It felt like the right thing to say at the time.”

Spencer chuckles softly, reaching a hand up to tuck your hair behind your ears before gently placing a kiss on your lips. Then another on your cheek before doing the same on the other side of your face.

Contently, you hum at your current predicament, “What-“ he kisses your lips again. “What are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer right away, choosing instead to lock your lips together. Moving them against yours in a way that resembled this morning—it made your heart soar.

Hesitating slightly, you reach your arms up and loop them over his shoulders, kissing him back as you’d been longing to all day.  

“I’m kissing you,” he whispers, kissing your lips again. “Trying to tide you over until the case is over and we get to be alone. Until then, do you want to help me narrow the geographic profile?”

In awe of Spencer’s ability to make you feel normal when you feel absurd, you shrug meekly, “Maybe one more kiss?”

“I’m shocked it was the third victim’s mother,” JJ says from the back of the group, talking about the case. The arrest was made about an hour ago, and the local precinct will be able to build the rest of the case on its own.

You raise your eyebrows, “I’m not. Thinking about the stony expression she had when she went to claim the body, I’m not surprised at all.” You met the UnSub earlier that morning, as it turned out, and the lack of surprise when you told her about the drugs in her daughter’s system made sense to you now.

Hotch checks the time on his watch, “Everyone head inside. We’ll take off with the sunrise tomorrow.”

The team nods in unison, filtering in through the lobby as everyone takes their designated hallways to their rooms, you and Spencer being at the very end of one of those hallways. You were grateful to Hotch for making the executive decision not to leave Colorado tonight, with the three-hour flight taken into account, you wouldn’t make it back to Quantico until nearly midnight.

Spencer swipes his key card in the door, letting you in before walking in behind you. He takes a moment once he’s inside to lock the door and latch the deadbolt, leaving you to walk into the bathroom to use the clean towels that housekeeping had left to wipe your face.

“Hey,” he murmurs, dropping a kiss on your clothed shoulder. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you from behind and burying his face in your neck.

His body was warm against yours, a pleasant change from the cool temperatures outside. Leaving the towel on the bar, you turn around in Spencer’s arms, taking small steps so the two of you don’t get tangled up. Leaning your head back, you smile at him knowingly, “Hi,” you whisper, thrilled to finally be alone with him.

Carefully, the two of you move out of the bathroom, and you find yourself fiddling with the knot of Spencer’s tie, grumbling about how tight it is while trying to wedge your nail between the silk. “You’re the one who tightened it,” Spencer reminds you, making better progress with your blouse.

You roll your eyes instinctively, “I really am my own worst enemy.” You drop your arms, letting Spencer take care of his tie as you unbutton the cuffs of your sleeves and tug the chiffon off.

Taking the tie off, Spencer watches as you kick off your shoes, carefully leaving them at the end of the bed before losing your footing and toppling onto the bed in a heap. He looks over at you, a bright, loving look in his eyes, “Are you alright?”

At this point, he’s asked you that so many times that you’ve lost count, leaving you to reach our hand out and pull him onto the bed with you. You bite down a laugh when he scrambles to catch himself. “You were brilliant today,” you tell him, studying the everchanging glisten of gold in his eyes.

“You were brilliant today,” he responds, shifting so that he’s hovering over you. “You’re brilliant every day,” he reassures you.

Your eyes widen playfully, “Well if we’re getting particular—you are also brilliant every day.” You reach your hand up and thread your fingers in his hair, feeling the silky strands between your fingers, “Are we going to have sex now?”

Spencer chuckles in response, craning his head down to leave a soft kiss on your lips, “Yes, silly girl. If you still want to.”

You nod enthusiastically, “Yes,” you answer, continuing to admire the feeling of his hair between your fingers, the sensation of the heat emanating from his body warms you from above as you take a minute to breathe. “I love you,” you whisper, barely audible.

“I love you too,” he murmurs, matching your volume level.

You consider yourself lucky to be able to work with Spencer every day. There were times when one of you had to call a time-out, and you never had to worry about asking for space. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” you let him know, raising your eyebrows expectantly.

He hums in response, dragging himself up from his place above you and standing up, giving you the freedom to move further up the bed, flopping your head on the pillows and watching him take his undershirt off. Unbuckling your own belt, you wriggle yourself out of your work pants, successfully leaving yourself in a bra and panties.

“C’mere,” you beckon to Spencer, stretching your arm out to him. He takes your hand, that all too familiar callus on his hand touching the one that’s mirrored on your own.

Spencer stops about halfway up your body, resting his hand on your hip and using his thumb to rub small circles on your hipbone, you sigh contentedly at the sensation of finally being touched the way you need.

The butterflies in your stomach don’t come out of hiding until he starts to shuffle your underwear down your legs, pulling them past your knees until you’re able to kick them off on your own. “Thank you for not making me feel bad about what happened in the bathroom,” you murmur down to him, propping yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him.

He knits his eyebrows together when he looks at you, “Why would I make you feel bad? We haven’t had sex in two weeks. I’d be lying to you if I told you it hasn’t been on my mind. You just happened to bring it up first.”

A soft giggle escapes your lips, “It’s a good thing you carry around that bag everywhere, or else we could’ve been in big trouble.” Not necessarily trouble with work, but relentless teasing was always an option.

Thankfully Emily let you off the hook, or else you’d be more concerned with being harassed on the jet tomorrow morning. “Speaking of,” he says, pulling himself back up and heading to his bag, rifling through his belongings before producing a small lavender packet. He sets the condom on the nightstand before finding his place again, “Where were we?”

You take your bottom lip between your teeth, peering down at him in awe as his hand slowly makes its way closer and closer to your core. “Just about here,” you breathe, leaning your head back while his index finger breaches your entrance, slowly sliding into you with a tentativeness to reflect how long it really has been.

The wet sounds reverberate through the room, making your cheeks burn even though you’re the only two in the room, “Let me know if it gets to be too much,” Spencer tells you, hoisting himself further up on the mattress. He changes the angle of his finger as he slowly finds a rhythm.

With him right above you, you tilt your head down, hoping he’ll take the hint and come kiss your lips. He does, his head ducking down until your lips touch, he carefully adds a second finger, eliciting a small gasp from your lips, but Spencer just takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

Cloaked in a sensual silence, the two of you are finally free to enjoy the company of one another, you extend one arm down, slipping your fingertips in between his stomach and the waistband of his briefs so that you can palm his cock. He moans into your open mouth as you sweep your thumb over the tip of his length, gathering his precum on your fingertip and spreading it over the head.

“Spence,” you gasp, so preoccupied with touching him that you had lost sight of your own pleasure, the way his hand was angled, the heel of his palm barely grazing your clit with every thrust. “Wait, I wanna-“ you take a breath, “I wanna go together.”

He nods in understanding, chuckling as you help him make quick work of his underwear, “Eager,” he observes, reaching around your torso to unclasp your bra.

“Yes,” you affirm, letting the underwire fall from your body, your nipples standing at attention, matching his cock perfectly as he reaches to the nightstand for the condom, tearing the purple packet and pinching the reservoir tip before rolling it over his length with ease.

You let your legs fall open as he finds a place between you, kneeling between your legs before he props himself up above you, your head still spinning as his hand moves between your bodies, positioning his covered cock at your pussy before he eases himself in. He takes it bit by bit, giving both of you time to adjust before he fully sheathes himself inside of you. “Fuck,” he groans in your ear, the curse falling from his mouth in exactly the same way you were thinking it.

One of your hands drops next to your head, and Spencer takes the chance to intertwine your fingers together, your hands interlocked on the bed as he takes a deep breath. Hesitantly, you ask, “What are you doing?”

“Thinking about what we have to get done when we get home tomorrow,” he tells you, dropping his head into the crook of your check.

You laugh breathily, “Right now?”

He drops a soft kiss to your collarbone, “Better than lasting thirty seconds. I haven’t done that in years.”

You hum thoughtfully, “What about last month when— ah.” He expertly cuts you off by withdrawing himself from you, almost leaving you entirely empty before easing himself back in. Apparently, he didn’t want you to bring up the time you caught him trying to hold off an orgasm by doing math.

Poking your head up, you guide Spencer’s head up, his lust-hooded eyes meeting yours when you set your lips on his, soft whines escaping from your mouth as you lock your ankles behind his back, “You’re so perfect,” he murmurs against your lips, seemingly spurred on by your need to keep him close.

In an act of desperation, you move your hand from his jawline to your clit, rubbing the sensitive spot in time with his thrusts, “Baby,” you breathe, your voice a word of warning as you feel your impending orgasm twist through your abdomen.

“Me too,” he answers, dropping his head back into the crook of your neck, continuing his movements, though they grow messy as he gets closer. “Let go,” he encourages, “Come around me.”

With a whine, you do just that, your toes curling as you reach your peak, your walls pulse around Spencer’s cock as you come, the sensation just hurtling him closer to the same euphoria. “That’s so good,” you say, your ankles coming uncrossed with the movement as Spencer works you through your orgasm.

A choked sound comes from him as his hips stutter, his movements halted by his own orgasm, spilling his cum into the condom as you run your newly free hand down his spine, skimming your fingertips over the ridges as the both of you catch your breath.

Lifting his head, Spencer flips his hair from his eyes, sweat-dampened curls falling in front of his forehead, “Woah,” you breathe, flopping your head back on the pillows, whimpering when he pulls out of you.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispers, carefully taking the filled condom off before speaking again, “I’ll be right back, honey.”

You nod absentmindedly, pulling yourself to a sitting position on the bed, a small puddle of slick beneath you almost made you wish you had a second bed in the hotel room. “Thank you,” you say when Spencer returns with a dampened washcloth.

He shakes his head when you reach your hand out for the cloth, taking it upon himself to clean you up. His gentleness as he takes care of you makes your chest tighten, he catches the way you’re looking at him when he moves to set the washcloth down, “What’s wrong?”

Shaking your head, “Nothing, just… can we cuddle for a little bit?”

Spencer nods immediately, leaving the washcloth on the dirty side of the bed before laying down next to you. You settle your head on his chest, letting your body melt into his.

You know you’re eventually going to have to get up, but right now, you’re just grateful that the world decided to slow down for you two tonight.

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ teddy’s notes: “nova” is reader’s hero name! the quirk’s details are not discussed in this chapter but i have a good idea of it and if you wanna know more about reader’s quirk i will make a post about it bc i dunno if future chapters will involve a fitting scene or wtv!!

part 1 here | part 2 here

mondays were already bad enough. but this? this was a nightmare.

you had barely stepped into your agency when your personal assistant greeted you with a suspiciously delighted expression.

“what,” you said immediately, already sensing trouble.

“nothing,” she said, way too cheerfully for a monday. “you should just… check the news.”

you narrowed your eyes but took the tablet she offered.

the headline alone nearly made you choke on your coffee.

“DYNAMIGHT AND NOVA: PRO-HERO RIVALS OR… LOVERS?!”

oh, for fuck’s sake.

before you could even process that, the attached video started playing—footage from a crime scene yesterday.

you already knew what had happened in that video. bakugou had taken a nasty hit, bleeding from a gash on his leg, and as always, he refused to sit the hell down. in response, you had shoved a hand against his chest to physically stop him from moving.

but of course, the camera angle made it look like something entirely different.

the way your hand was fisted in his suit. the way his face was inches from yours. the intense eye contact, the sharp words exchanged (which, okay, you’d admit, maybe sounded a little too much like unresolved romantic tension in a bad drama).

and the internet had already run wild with it.

you scrolled further. someone had screenshotted the moment and captioned it:

“just kiss already.”

another person had made an edit—dramatic black-and-white filter, romantic music, slow zoom.

somebody else had photoshopped a wedding veil on you.

“you have got to be kidding me,” you muttered, rubbing your temples.

your assistant bit back a laugh. “oh, it gets better. bakugou’s seen it.”

your phone buzzed before you could even respond.

speak of the devil.

you sighed and answered.

“you see this bullshit?” bakugou barked immediately.

“good morning to you too, dynamight,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“the fuck is wrong with people?!” he continued, completely ignoring you. “are they stupid? why the hell would i—”

he cut himself off, too frustrated to even finish the sentence.

“look, I don’t like it either,” you said, sighing. “but it’s not like we can stop people from making up whatever they want.”

“the hell we can’t!”

“so what, you wanna go on national tv and tell everyone you hate me?”

“yes!”

“right,” you deadpanned. “because that wouldn’t make this worse at all.”

bakugou went silent. probably realizing, to his horror, that you were right.

“listen,” you continued, scrolling through more cursed memes. “this’ll blow over in, like, a week. people will find some new drama, and we can both forget this ever happened.”

“tch.” bakugou still sounded pissed, but at least he wasn’t yelling anymore. “whatever. i’m still gonna kill whoever started this.”

“good luck with that,” you muttered.

he grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, then hung up.

you set your phone down with a sigh, only to realize your assistant was still watching you, grinning.

“what now?” you asked, already exhausted.

“nothing,” she said, in a tone that very much meant something.

you glanced back at the tablet. the news site had updated.

“DYNAMIGHT RESPONDS TO RELATIONSHIP RUMORS��‘I’M GONNA KILL WHOEVER STARTED THIS.’”

you closed your eyes.

this was going to be a long week.

[postcardsfromheapside]

This game has been out since Halloween.

In that time, there have been numerous Veilguard positive posts in which patient, loving, wonderful, insightful and intelligent individuals attempt to impart lore onto a fanbase which doesn't deserve their time and attention.

I can't believe I'm running across posts made within the past five days which express disgust and frustration towards the devs over things which have been explained in great detail multiple times on this site, BUT IN THE DAMN GAME.

AND Y'ALL KEEP COMPLAINING THE GAME TELLS BUT DOESN'T SHOW. AND YOU DON'T EVEN LISTEN OR WATCH.

"the crows are presented as wholesome" - they are not. this site has a crow fanbase which has run off and lionized Viago as Daddy, conveniently ignored all the in-game details which either hint or baldly state things Definitely Aren't Cool, and generally fetishized what it means to be a Crow because of Zevran and Lucanis. Then the same people, or others who weren't paying proper attention, whined when the headcanon crowded out the actual in-game material, and they said "Antiva is whitewashed." There have been multiple posts about this.

"slaves are meant to be everywhere in Tevinter and we don't see that" - we aren't everywhere, we're specifically in Docktown which is poor and people generally can't afford slaves there, but we do see evidence of slavery, and we run around with abolitionists and help save people from fascist slavers and free people who will either be slaves or victims of blood magic so IDK what to tell you, there have been multiple posts explaining this too, maybe leave your slave or savior fetish somewhere else.

"Racism is supposed to be rampant" - fuck off. I actually will not be explaining this because for once it was nice not to be called a slur. If you need this to feel "immersed" or to feel there are actual problems, I need you to check yourself fucking hard. If you want to masquerade what it feels like to experience bigotry, go play one of the prior games. This has also been discussed in multiple posts.

"Handling pure lyrium is fine now" no handling the dagger is fine Solas cleansed it, the dagger woke something up in Harding specifically she talks about how some dwarves are connected to the stone, she previously had not been one of them and maybe the dagger woke something up in her, or did you need a pop up explaining this? Were you paying attention during cut scenes and dialogue?

"Adult Dalish without vallaslin" - in the 10 years since Inquisition/Trespasser, doubtless some dalish have come to adulthood and found out what assholes their gods were and made the decision not to go through that specific cultural rites. Or maybe city elves joined the Dalish. Who knows who made up the elf population at that ritual site. Elves are not a monolith. We've made multiple, multiple posts about elves not being monoliths.

"Solas' opinion on blood magic went from neutral to negative" SOLAS FUCKING LIES. We've made multiple posts about Solas lying, if you need this explained further I suggest you play the game all over again, he lies to you throughout the entire game.

"Re-write of the after credits scene in Inquisition to recontextualise the Flemeth and Solas interaction" it's recontextualized because now we know who and what they were to each other. Learning new information does that. This is literally what happens all the time in science and history. You recontextualize what you thought you knew with new information. You're supposed to change your position, not whine about how the new information makes everything different.

These are just some of the things I pulled from a list on a post in which someone was really just upset about everything. Everything. Varric, Morrigan, Solas, everything. But I can't take their criticisms seriously, because they're upset that "too much was told" and "not enough shown" and yet didn't even pay attention to DA lore or in-game dialogue or context clues around the world of Northern Thedas to answer their own questions.

Everything in this game makes complete sense if you use lore from prior games and a single iota of imagination to see how it fits. We've had many delightful posts discussing this, seeing how things could be explained, when approaching the game from a place of curiosity rather than being upset because personal headcanons weren't satisfied or long-held expectations weren't met.

[theesteppenwolf]

More Lucanis rambles because I’m still thinking about it and got nothing better to do :P

I am not here to tell anyone how to feel but putting words into peoples mouths who criticize the Lucanis romance (or Lucanis in general) for being unsatisfactory by saying;

“You don’t know what a slow burn is/ it’s because you expected zevran / you don’t get it he’s traumatized/ you just wanted something spicy and didn’t get it so now you’re mad” etc.

Is completely disregarding the fact that his lack of reactions and lack of content actually led people to believe he is bugged. Most DA fans didn’t expect spice or steam or whatever but they did expect an effective story, one they didn’t get.

This is at the end of the day a visual storytelling medium and implication will only get you so far, if i have to start thinking up entire plotlines in my head to make sense of the story or relationship progression then they failed at good storytelling. If i have to write paragraphs of explanations that the game doesn’t even remotely touch on then that isn’t a slow burn, it’s just a lack of content and poor pacing.

If he is traumatized and reluctant because of it you have to give me a scene where i can actually read that. If he is awkward and doesn’t know how to react to flirting you have to exaggerate to an extent for people to tell. If there is longing and angst give me banter that reflects it.

A romance in a game should give me some kind of deeper personal insight into a character and if i have to do the writers job and in my head think up those insights then the actual romance is mostly moot. I’m not saying give me all the details i’m saying at the very least give me a jumping point, some info buried in the game i won’t get otherwise. His romance fails at this.

Mary Kirby was fired yes and it’s awful what happened but unfortunately the product still remains and it leaves a lot to be desired for a big amount of people. When players are straight up going back on saves to romance someone else it’s a real problem. For me, it soured my first playthrough, especially later when i saw how Davrin and Emmrich had content, convos, specific romance outings and at the bare minimum actually had a noticeable reaction to flirting dialogue.

Again I’m not telling anyone how to feel, if it works for you that’s awesome, but to disregard his obvious lack of content by calling other fans basically stupid is incredibly disingenuous.

I love his character, loved it since The Wigmakers Job and he is still my favorite after my first playthrough. I think the beginning of his romance was very promising and the end is great but everything else is missing I’m sorry. His romance was not well executed and i honestly don’t think his character really was either. (But i won’t vent about that right now)

I know what a slow burn is, i was not expecting Zevran, i did not want a steamy romance. I wanted a well executed story and i didn’t get one. I am critical because i think it could’ve been great, i still love the game and i am not shitting on it, his character or other fans i just hate wasted potential.

[dollfaceksj]

still don’t know my name | jjk (m) pt. 2

➥ banner by: @archivedkookie.

➥ PAIRING: jungkook x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: In which your annoying neighbor—that you can’t stand—turns out to be the person behind the online account you’ve been sexting. You still don’t know his name.

➥ GENRE: smut ⋆ cybersex ⋆ enemies

➥ CATEGORY: mini three-shot

➥ WARNINGS: mentions of rough sex; slapping, spanking, hair pulling, gagging, name calling, humiliation, degradation, mean!jk, biker!jk😋, bratty!reader (like reallll bratty), nude exchanging, pornography, cybersex, reader is a bit dumb, actually very dumb, sexting, flirting, neighbor beef, tension, jk smokes, bit of angst (cus it wouldn’t be a fic of mine if it didn’t have angst ofc), mentions of raw sex (WRAP IT UP), minors DNI

➥ WORDCOUNT: 11.8k

a/n: whew. HI. can’t believe pt1 went off like that😭 thank u sm for enjoying this fic !

thanks to tumblr’s new 1k max blocks limit, i had to add the rest in a reblog. you’ll find a link to it at the bottom!

i call this a mini three-shot cause i just left out all the unimportant stuff. it just constantly skips to scenes where yn & jk bump into each other i really dgaf if it’s coincidental the entire time. i had and still have no intention of adding more lore than necessary😭 its just a pwp so i rlly dc abt the lack of story telling and whatnot i just wanted to get this horny idea out 🙄

make sure to check out eli’s version too! <3

enjoy 😘😘 — the next part (pt. 3) will be the final part!

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⇠ PREV. ⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆ NEXT ⇢

#2 — “gameboy”

You still don’t know his name.

⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆ ⋆

And that is how you spend the rest of your weeks.

Flirting.

Sexting.

Sending pictures of your naked body to a random stranger on the internet.

A random stranger whose name you do not know.

A random stranger that doesn’t know your name, either.

A random stranger that you’re somehow slightly possessive over.

A random stranger that’s somehow slightly possessive over you.

Constantly posting subtweets about each other only further proves that. Indirectly wanting to tell other people to back off without actually doing so.

It’s crazy how you two clicked almost immediately. Maybe men aren’t a lost cause after all.

The subtweets consist of more pornographic content, provoking each other and wording your wishes of what you would like to do to one another on your timelines.

Like posting captions that say, ‘wish you were here’ alongside a video of a woman getting fucked into a worn-out mattress.

Or ‘this could be us’ and it’s a video of 2 people kissing like it’s their last day on earth.

But then at times, you both just chat like best friends. Talk about the movies you like. Or the anime he recommends. Or the music he likes to listen to. He gets oddly defensive about Justin Bieber.

Even though you’re both aware that you’re two strangers, you can’t help but feel like you two have known each other for longer than just a few weeks.

Like the time you found out you live in the same timezone. Live in the same state. Grew up watching the same things on TV. Have heard of each other’s high schools.

But any details have been kept private so far—for safety reasons, of course.

It’s not like you don’t trust him. It’s not that. It’s just weird sharing personal info with someone you don’t know personally.

But there’s been some talks about potentially meeting each other.

You wonder what he’s like in real life.

You bet he’s as charming as he is through text. Probably average looking but you don’t mind in the slightest. Pretty men only break hearts.

You still don’t know what he looks like and vice versa.

You still don’t know his name and vice versa.

Somehow you both wordlessly agreed on revealing your faces when you meet for the first time. The only physical details you’ve noticed are some of his tattoos that you can barely make out thanks to the poor quality of his pictures. His toned body. Veins. Sweatpants.

Most of his pictures are taken in the dark. Seems like he’s always just holed up at home and you deduce he might be a homebody or a gamer—something like that.

You usually can’t stand gamers (cue your annoying fucking neighbor) however, you can’t help but fantasize about sucking this random online stranger off while he’s gaming or have him bend you over his gaming setup. Let him fuck you from behind over his keyboard. Hips pounding into your asscheeks as his gaming chair squeaks.

The buzzing of your phone next to your hip snaps you out of your sinful trance.

[Twitter]

@archurback4me sent you a message!

Your heart always jolts like it’s been resuscitated every single time he sends you a message and that hasn’t changed in the past few weeks. There are simply no words to describe how it feels when your phone buzzes and it’s the person you’re thinking about.

You sit straight up on your couch, crossing your legs criss-cross applesauce as you giddily unlock your phone.

@archurback4me | 11:12AM

Goodmorning brat

How’d you sleep

Sleep. How’d you sleep.

Right, that’s what you’d forgotten!

You | 11:13AM

wait omg

now i remember

i dreamed about you omggg

well you were kinda faceless but in my dream i knew it was you

@archurback4me | 11:13AM

Did you?

What kind of dream

You | 11:13AM

honestly it started out weird as fuck lol

i wish i could tell you something sexy but it really isn’t

you were in my old high school trying to buy something from the vending machine and it wouldn’t work

so you ended up punching it and then i stopped you

and told you to hit me instead like some kind of pick me girl lmaoooooo

@archurback4me | 11:14AM

LMAOOOO

Bruhhh

That is so random

Hitting you is crazy

You | 11:14AM

i know

i mean

watching you be so aggressive was pretty hot tho

woke up w drenched panties

@archurback4me | 11:15AM

That so?

You got proof or are you just talking out of your ass?

You | 11:15AM

ur trying to see my pussy at 11am? really? you’re horny at this hour?

@archurback4me | 11:16AM

11AM or 11PM

Idgaf

Let me see that pretty pussy

How are you supposed to decline when he says it like that?

You want to do everything he asks. Anything. Want him to want you. Need him to want you.

You drag your sweats down your legs, tossing them off your bed with a quick kick. The tip of your finger slips under the elastic of your panties, peeling it off your pussy and sliding it to the side.

Arm stretched out, you reach for a low angle of your glistening pussy. There’s a teeny tiny bit of stubble coming through, not that either of you really care.

You snap a quick photo. Check it. Aren’t satisfied. Snap a few more until you’re okay with the row of pictures you can choose from.

You | 11:19AM

(You sent a photo.)

@archurback4me | 11:21AM

For fucks sake

That wet from imagining me shaking up a vending machine, are you?

Shit

Can’t stop staring

You | 11:21AM

well yes.

i mean honestly

i don’t fantasize about you hitting me or anything like that

but being slapped across the face by you kind of sounds... hot

@archurback4me | 11:23AM

I’ve seen you tweet about it before

And you’ve rted several videos like that

So trust me

I know you’re into that

You | 11:23AM

hmm

yeah

i think it’s hot

but not like.. the way you’d slap someone for making fun of your mom

just... a quick slap to make me look at you when i’m disobeying

:)

@archurback4me | 11:23AM

Choking, spanking, slapping, hairpulling, spitting, gagging

You sure you can take all that?

You | 11:23AM

are you challenging me?

@archurback4me | 11:25AM

No

I know better than to challenge a brat over text

Just wanna make sure angel

You | 11:25AM

trust me i’ll be loud about it if i don’t like it

but only if you’re down with it

@archurback4me | 11:26AM

I am

Because your dirty mouth definitely deserves a few slaps whenever you start yapping like you do so well

You | 11:27AM

kiss my ass jay

you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid lmao

Oh, right. He’d told you to call him Jay about two weeks ago. You’ve been calling him that ever since.

@archurback4me | 11:30AM

Wish I could princess

Let me see that ass one more time

You | 11:30AM

🙄.

what do i get in return?

@archurback4me | 11:32AM

I’ll write your username on my pelvis and post a vid of me jacking off

Oh.

The thought of him, jacking off with your username written across his pelvis, free for everyone to see. The thought of claiming him. Having him all to yourself.

The tingle in your core is impossible to ignore. You want him.

You | 11:33AM

so all those ppl chatting you up in your dms know that you ultimately belong to me?

@archurback4me | 11:33AM

If that’d allow me to see your ass then 100%

You | 11:33AM

ur so thirsty

so many asses you can see online

why mine

@archurback4me | 11:34AM

Because yours is my favorite duh

You don’t have to of course

There’s a compromise, isn’t there?

His favorite?

Does he chat with other people as well? Do others send him pictures of their body too? Does he send them pictures too?

That alone brings a scowl to your face but you quickly realize that, yes, he can do what he wants.

You get up on your knees and stretch your arm out behind you. Phone upside down. Hit record. Spank your ass. Catch the watch it recoils on camera.

Repeat.

Make him never want anyone else again.

You | 11:35AM

🙄.

just shut up

(You sent a video.)

@archurback4me | 11:35AM

Holy shit I need you

I need you so bad

Ahhhh you’re driving me fucking crazy

You | 11:36AM

you could have me

@archurback4me | 11:36AM

I’m so serious I’ll come one of these weeks and I’m not even joking

You | 11:36AM

i wish you would

@archurback4me | 11:38AM

I will

Give me a date I’ll write it down

You | 11:38AM

you’re coming to stay for a few days, right?

i have plenty of room in my bed for you

@archurback4me | 11:39AM

Hmm

Was hoping you’d say that

One night with you would never be enough for me

You | 11:40AM

hehe

exactly 3 weeks from now

the entire week

what do you say?

@archurback4me | 11:42AM

Never noted something faster

I have a dog though

So I was thinking it’d be easier for you to come to me

You | 11:43AM

i don’t mind you bringing your dog

luv dogs

but don’t think i forgot about what i was gonna get in return for sending you my ass

@archurback4me | 11:44AM

Jeez

He doesn’t reply for quite some time. The typing bubble doesn’t pop up either.

But after several minutes a new tweet pops up on your feed.

He didn’t caption it. Just a video that starts with his abs. You watch as his fingers trail down his stomach and tug his underwear down, revealing his squiggly inked skin.

And there it is, ‘@bratgaIore’ written across his pelvis in black marker.

He spits in his hand and wraps his fingers around his shaft, stroking his rock hard dick at a perfect pace. The sound has been turned off and you really wish it wasn’t but then again, you don’t want anyone else hearing him.

Want him sounding pretty for you. Just for you.

You’ve clearly been staring at the video for too long because you get a new message.

@archurback4me | 11:54AM

Happy?

You | 11:56AM

holy shit

you actually did it

@archurback4me | 11:57AM

Of course I did

I don’t play when it comes to that ass of yours

You | 11:58AM

hm

now im rlly horny

@archurback4me | 11:58AM

Aren’t you always

You | 11:58AM

thanks to you

i hate you

@archurback4me | 11:59AM

That’s fine

The feeling’s mutual anyway

Gonna enjoy the way you fall apart under me when I fuck you

Fuck you until you’re stupid

You | 12:03PM

a dream come true

:p

guess what

@archurback4me | 12:04PM

Hm?

You | 12:06PM

(You sent a photo.)

The photo is a picture of your soaking wet pussy with his username written on your pelvis in black marker, too.

@archurback4me | 12:08PM

What the fuck

You’re trying to fucking kill me angel

I need to insert my tongue immediately

You | 12:09PM

here come the harvard graduates

insert is crazy

@archurback4me | 12:10PM

You drive me crazy

Pussy got me acting all formal and shit LMAOO

Got me wanting to wear a bib and say Itadakimasu😋 when I dive in

Fuck

Want you on my face so fucking bad

Spank you while you ride my face

Don’t think I’ve ever seen something so pretty

Think my mind will change when I see your face though

You | 12:11PM

LMAOOOO not itadakimasu😭😭😭

hmm

you like it?

@archurback4me | 12:12PM

Are you insane

I keep going back to it

You should write my username when we meet so I can see it when I take your clothes off

Know that your pussy belongs to me

You | 12:12PM

if you do it too

@archurback4me | 12:13PM

Deal

You | 12:13PM

hehe

😋.

btw

@archurback4me | 12:14PM

Hm?

You | 12:14PM

are you clean

@archurback4me | 12:15PM

What?

You | 12:16PM

like

are you clean

for raw sex

@archurback4me | 12:16PM

Oh

Yeah I am

I’ll send you my results when I’m home

You | 12:16PM

you don’t have to do that i believe you

i’m clean too

where are you rn?

@archurback4me | 12:16PM

Just left to meet a friend

You | 12:17PM

oh

you’re not texting and driving right

@archurback4me | 12:18PM

Of course not, babe.

How am I supposed to meet my dumb girl when I’m dead?

I’m going by foot

Babe.

My dumb girl.

This is dangerous territory.

You | 12:19PM

hm

just like how i want to be the death of you as i tease you while ur in public

@archurback4me | 12:19PM

Don’t

I’m warning you

I don’t wanna meet my friends with a raging boner

I just got rid of one

You | 12:20PM

ur so easy lol

@archurback4me | 12:22PM

Just you wait you little brat

Gonna leave you so fucking sore when I’m done with you

No breaks

Fuck you the whole week long

You | 12:23PM

hmm

gonna fuck me like you hate me?

@archurback4me | 12:24PM

I do hate you

A lot

Dumb girl

Don’t think that’s gonna change when I see you in real life

Might get even more pissed off when I see your bratty mug actually

I just know your face is so fucking bratty

You | 12:25PM

you’d be obsessed with me

i’m really pretty

@archurback4me | 12:26PM

Lmao yeah I probably will be

I’m sure you are

Gonna defile your pretty face when I cum all over it you stupid brat

But my friend’s here

I’ll ttyl princess

You | 12:27PM

can’t wait

bye daddy

@archurback4me | 12:27PM

Hell nahhhhh

Don’t call me that

You | 12:30PM

ok then bye mr. fuck-you-everyday-of-the-week

@archurback4me | 12:30PM

And will

Night after night

You | 12:30PM

go already

byeeeee

@archurback4me | 12:32PM

Bye princess

You go about your day like you usually would and later that night, he ends up sending you his results anyway. You were already asleep by then, though.

⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆ ⋆

Want to keep reading? The full chapter is out on my Wattpad.

Click here to keep reading.

a/n: thanks to tumblr’s new max 1k blocks limit, i’ll have to figure out how i’m gonna post the full thing on here. (probably tomorrow or friday) either by combining paragraphs or add the continuation in a reblog or something. but its out on wattpad so i hope you’ll forgive me !!

thanks for reading <33

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Here’s the link to continuation (in a reblog).

— enjoyed it? you can always show your appreciation by buying me some coffee if you want ☕︎♡

@mygdday @coletaehyung @btspurplesky @kaitieskidmore97 @marvelbun @nini_07777 @8514238 @llallaaa @s3l3n0phil3 @agrika @ahgasegotarmy116 @canyon-lwt @boyfriendtaekook @s4yok0 @mochminnie @chimmisbae @muah-minhoe-8 @bloopkook @whoa-jo @dreami-yoonkookie @earth2fae @kissyfacekoo @keroppitae @junecat18 @hollowtree11 @jksusawife @synnfulqt @pamzn @jknoah @jjk-jeongirl @busanstarkoo @busanboykoo @codeinebelle @taegicity @bettybloop @kookssecret @MMFranklin @vickyyy97 @suciedad-divina @jkslipppiercing @heyyolly04 @partyparty-yah @kooact @osakis-gf @luna-astro-star @plushjeno @jjk1iscoming @Heyrobitches @sunnysorasworld @raineo @jjanjankook @etaerealboyv @somehowukook @larryrulesthisfuckingworld @rrrapmonste-rr @denisaandreea20 @httpjeonlicious @jjeonjennie @dellalyra @optimisticmoongalaxy @ishizhans

[edenspoem]

succubus!reader and loser!ellie tribbing? Like... with a vibrator...

Cursing you rn for plaguing my thoughts

if we draw on the basis of succubus strap, then we could imagine succubus!reader coming equipped with a vibrator. now, would it be just any run-of-the-mill vibrator? no. demons being demons, I think imp-intents would convince them otherwise into bringing something over-powered, stamped in warning labels (warning: your clit may just explode!), and of an intend to inspire fear; dauntingly looking. having ellie under your edict, an ankle cupped in your fist and spread wide 'till her hamstring stung, and forced to observe the way her and your cunt roll over the bulbous tip of a vibrator held by you— whining and weeping her freckled undereyes to puffed reds, is your prize at the crown of an inferno. cauldron of lusty tears at the tail of a rainbow. you can feel the force of her legs fighting back against that drilling sensation, the wants of enclosure around the vibration that made her clit feel pricked, engorged, oversensitive and screaming. and while you may not be the mother of demons, she'd still address you as if you were the mother of succubi. voice holding the vulnerability of a fucktoy. "h—hey.. can you turn the setting down? don't wanna come yet, m—mama." rasps transformed into elated gasps inwards, yet obstructed by the moans begging to filter out. she's staring up at you with these doey, watery eyes, ones you would see on kneels begging for forgiveness. and her mouth is slightly cracked, taking slim heaps of air her reddened, little button nose couldn't steady out. control being in your thrall, and the appeal of fragile girls under you relying on your mercy as their pussies happily eat up whatever you've got shoved in, or on them— is the exact persuasion that drives you on. either that, or just how her pussy: slicked from pearl to sheet in milky nectar your throat gulped to drink, and beautifully spreading folds over the vibrating head, so close to your own— drives you on. the details. the consequences of your torture. "mh-mn ellie, y'know whose rules we're playing by, right?" you ask sweetly, shaking your head side to side, and she nods with hesitation, folding her lip in to wetten it up prior to humming, "mhm." contorting her features softly, like she could loathe the sound if she wanted to. "mine." reminding her, you angle the vibes shaft upon her abdomen, and quickly scoot her further under you, throwing her into audible shock. impending your sensual shadow over her, pressing your own pussy into the toy so that it would press into hers. "fuuuckkk." you groan in delight. toss your head back, out of ecstasy, out of the ability to handle this. contrarily, ellie groans in overstimulation, "ughhh!" and scrunches her face like pain is present, breaking her lips open into a gasping, light-headed mess, choking and whining on overload, "f-fuhuck—" squirts all over the plastic without remorse for how filthy the scene looks, digging nails into the flesh of her lifted knees for dear life.

++ and she'd be bucking and knocking her clenched feet unknowningly into your backside the entire time. squirming around and laughing torturedly. screwing these worried little eyes down at her crotch. ughh I live for loser!sub!ellie.

definitely has a thing for wings though. takes one good look at yours and she's creaming unprompted. [big text version up for request] [ellie img from caitsgalaxy on pinterest]