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nevernonline · 10 months ago

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✧.* twenty-seven?; ksy

synopsis: you always wanted to be considered a ‘serious’ journalist, but to get the chance at moving up the ranks and getting to produce your own stories, you’re get an idea to do one final story and impress your boss, that’s where inspiration strikes with the one and only soonyoung.

part of my ninety minute movies one shot series. ♡︎

paring: hoshi x fem! reader.

genre: strangers2lvrs

warning/s:mentions of substances (alcohol, weed, cig, vape etc.) swearing, very bad jokes!, just fluffy and nice no seggsy time

word count: 8.4k

content: . non-idol idolings, some other svt members. hoshi is down bad fast xo.

note: my next little inspired movie writing is the icon that is 27 dresses. except instead of our female lead being the one in the wedding its my fav tiger (hamster) soony. I just love sappy cutie soonyoung so I apologize in advance. also unedited bc im a loser srry. it shouldn't be tew bad bc I tried to take my time lol. ily.

Finding a cozy spot at a table to the left of the bride and groom, you flipped open your notebook and started jotting down pin points on the decor, the flowers, the bride's beautiful flowing silk gown, and the way the groom looked at her with stars in his eyes.

The first dance song rang around the room gathering all the adorned looks of friends and family watching as another couple took the leap on spending the rest of their lives together.

A rocks glass was placed in front of your pen and paper as the chair next to her was suddenly filled with the stranger who put it there.

“Taking notes for your own wedding?”

“Oh. No, I'm doing a piece for the Daily on their wedding.”

“Are you y/n l/n by any chance?”

“I am. You’re familiar with me?”

“Yeah, just through the bride. She’s my sister. She talks about you nonstop. I’m Soonyoung, I was the one who contacted you.”

“I see. Nice to meet you. What’s the drink for?”

“Working hard, I figured you should at least enjoy yourself a little bit.”

“That’s nice. Thank you.”

Soonyoung stared at the girl across from him, trying to catch a peak at her notes seeing if she was painting this night in a perfect light.

You caught on and shut the book quietly, giving him a small wink as a shout it would be everything his sister wanted.

“What’s the drink?”

“A vodka soda, lemon.”

“So, you know my drink order? Thought you said you didn’t know who I was?”

“I saw you at a wedding a few weeks ago, my friend Seungkwan. I noticed your drink, that's all. That’s how I got your contact actually.”

“Lying on the first meet, a great sign. No wonder you look so familiar to me. You were the best man right? But blonde at the time?”

“My sister would’ve killed me if I was blonde at her wedding and sorry not lying just felt creepy admitting it.

“I liked it.”

Soonyoung laughed remembering the conversation he had with his sister about his hair.

“So what’s it like being in two weddings in one month, Soonyoung?”

“Actually I’m going to be in three. Next week my coworker is getting married. Which would make my wedding count twenty-six.”

“You’ve been to twenty-six weddings?”

“Yep. After next week anyway. What’s your wedding count?”

“Ones I’ve covered? Too many to count. Ones I’ve been in? Two I think. Both of my brothers are married. That’s about it.”

“So you cover weddings but aren’t married?”

Rolling your eyes at his unfiltered nature, you couldn’t help but feel like his question was out of curiosity and not judgment. The way his eyes searched hers for answers was genuinely adorable.

“Almost at one point, but he cheated on me and is marrying her now. I didn’t actually become a journalist to cover weddings anyway, it sort of just happened.”

“I see.”

“What about you? Being at all those weddings and never getting married?”

“No. Not even close, I was in love with the same girl for a long time, but she didn’t feel the same way.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

After spending the rest of your night enjoying Soonyoungs company, you bid goodbye to the bride and groom and headed back to your home to get down to working on the article.

Digging through your black leather tote you realize you forgot to take your journal home with you, leaving it on the white table cloth being distracted by a new friend.

Realizing you don’t have his number you took it upon yourself to stalk his social media profiles in hope you could find a way to get in contact with him, maybe he was your saving grace in taking your book for safekeeping until he could give it back to you.

Saying fuck it for now you just began typing away about your night, thanking god or whomever that you backed up your calendar digitally when you get a clever idea to write an article still about weddings, but about the person you met who had been a groomsmen all those times. Searching for any kind of photos and videos of his past times supporting nuptials.

All you came up with was a couple cheesing photos of him posing in his suits of many colors and types when you get the idea to go back into your own rolodex of photos and writings from weddings you’ve done in the past, noticing him standing near the bride and groom in just a few it was now safe to say he has piqued your interest even more than before.

You decided to draft an email to your boss begging for the chance to write her an article about the types of bridesmaids and groomsmen who’ve been involved in many years of weddings as a support, if you found one person who had done so many in a short time it wouldn’t be hard to find more right?

Before getting ready for bed you sat refreshing your email waiting for the go-ahead to investigate Soonyoung further with the excuse that it was simply just for work, it took multiple scrolls to the point where your thumb was starting to hurt from running it over the screen until she replied.

‘Y/n, feel free to start drafting up the story. If I like it I’ll let you have more creative articles in the future. Please have it on my desk in two weeks.’

When the morning finally arrived, you had to make the rough decision to get out of bed and head to grab a coffee from the shop in your apartment lobby. Normally you’d be cuddled on your couch with your cat, spending your Saturday morning reading and watching reruns of your favorite reality shows, but much to your surprise the coffee stash you usually have stocked has dried up.

Exiting the silver doors of the elevator a call came from the front desk attendant and you were met by a brown paper bag tied with a bow, the outside scribbled on with some crayons of silly faces and drawings of cartoon tigers, stickers of hello kitty, and a pink note taped to the handle.

“Miss. Y/l/n! Some boy dropped this for you last night.”

“Oh? Thank you, Max.”

Ripping open the small note in line for your morning brew, it instantly puts a smile on your face.

‘Hi, I noticed you left this on the table. Hope it’s not weird. I dropped it off for you. Your address was inside. At least I can stalk you now. - Soonyoung (wedding guy lol)”

Inside the bag was your planner and a few random pieces of candy thrown around. A small bookmark was placed on a page and written underneath was a date for next Thursday and the number of your new favorite subject marked ‘single seeking wedding date.’

After grabbing the paper cup from the barista behind the counter you whip your phone out and dial the number written inside your prized possession.

“Hello, is this the single seeking a date?”

“Hey, it is. Is this the cute girl who’s planner I found?”

“I think so? I don’t know any other cute girls who like going to weddings.”

“Are you available for drinks and a little pre-wedding party?”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

“Tonight? Wow. Eager to see me again I see.”

“I am. And I’m being bold right now which is new for me, so please don’t make me cry.”

“Aw. But I’m sure you’re so pretty when you cry.”

“I’m always pretty, y/n. So?”

“Sure. Why not?”

You heard Soonyoung gasp over the phone and drop something loud.

“Really?”

“Want me to take it back?”

“No. Cool. I will.. pick you up at 6:30? We can get some drinks before and then it’s just like a casual party, but my friends are kind of fancy so maybe like nice cocktail attire. I’m sure you know.”

“Okay. I’m sure you remember where to find me? After all, you did confess to being a stalker.”

“Oh my god. I was kidding, don’t take me seriously. I’ll see you then.”

“See you, Soony. Ok now I’m corny. That wasn’t meant to be a pun. Bye.”

Hearing the boy's laughter over the phone almost gave you butterflies.

“You’re funny. Bye.”

Spending the rest of your normally relaxing afternoon getting ready to slyly interrogate your new friend, you decided to not go out of your way to look overly special after all you weren’t even sure this quote on quote date was anything romantic or just a way of initiating a friendship.

Just before you leave your front door you sat to think if it was appropriate to bring along the same journal that was delivered to you the same morning, but made the conscious decision to leave it behind and not make this first night getting to know each other about you digging into his life for your own gain.

The ride down the elevator had you inspecting yourself in its small safety mirror, fixing the very last strand of hair that felt out of place on your head, not paying any attention to the people jumping off and on from their various floors.

When you finally stepped out into the marble covered lobby, you immediately spotted Soonyoung draped over the side of the couch holding his legs close, almost like a nervous child looking around the room and pouting because he can’t find his toy.

When he finally locked eyes with you his childlike demeanor changed immediately into a spunky puppy, jumping up from his seat and dusting off crumbs on his pants that weren’t even there in the first place, maybe to wipe his hands from their small sweat they were undergoing.

“Hi, y/n. You look very nice”

“Really? So do you. Where are we headed?”

“There’s a cool poet themed bar just like two blocks from here, I thought you’d enjoy it since you’re a writer and everything.”

You looked at Soonyoung with wide eyes, it was a sign of how considerate he was yet again, just like the thought he put into bringing you, your planner and decorating the bag.

His sharp brown eyes sparkled under the street lights, almost like they were reflecting stars, his baggy khaki pants with matching jacket slung perfectly over his frame, he was cute. You could admit it to yourself that something about him was magnetic and you already wanted more.

“Y/n? Is that not your thing? I’m sorry we can do something else, I shouldn’t of assumed all writers like poetr-“

“Oh I’m sorry, I was distracted. Has anyone told you that you have insanely cute eyes? But yes, poetry’s cool. I’m more of a classic novel girl, but it sounds fun. Stop second guessing yourself. You’re good.”

Your hand moved faster than your brain as you brought it up to pat him gently on his shoulder, a confirmation that you were having a good time and trying to ease his awkwardness.

“Yeah, people have once or twice.”

“Good. They really are cute.”

The pink of Soonyoung’s cheeks grew into a deep red as he led you into the bar. The walls were covered in decaying pieces of paper written with words people had to get out for comfort. The smell was like the oldest library on earth, with a tinge of vanilla and vodka ringing through.

Your brain took a moment to be present and remember all of the bad dates of your past. Maybe this wasn’t a date of your future, but if it was, he had already exceeded your expectations.

As the waitress took your order, one Body Electric for your new friend a legit inspiration from Walt

Whitman to your choice which was a play on a Sylvia Plath poem.

“Are you a lightweight?”

You looked at Soonyojng not even halfway through his drink, feeling the ease and warmth of his body next

to you.

“How can you tell?”

“You relaxed for the first time tonight.”

“I was nervous to hangout with you. I’m sorry. You’re just cool and pretty and I don’t know I feel like you’re way smarter than me and I’m intimidated by that sober”

“I’m sure that’s not true. But if it’s any help I was nervous too.”

“Really? So I have game?”

“No. But you’re so cute I’d die if I hurt your feelings.”

“So you’re a lightweight too?”

“What? No way. Just honest to a fault.”

Soonyoung smiled into the rim of his glass before taking his final sip and prompting you to finish your drink quickly, which you happily obliged.

“Okay, on the way there.. I have to admit something. The party we’re going to is for the girl I liked before she got with this guy… it’s like unrequited love in a way.”

“The girl you said you don’t love anymore?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry I dragged you into this. I just wanted to see you again so I thought it was a good idea.”

“I’m down. I’m not sure what, but I’m down.”

“Cool.”

“Want me to pretend to be your girlfriend? Or? I feel like it would be weird to say we were on a first date.”

“Is this a date?”

“Is it not?”

“It was meant to be and it definitely is now.”

“So pretend girlfriend, Soony?”

“Maybe not an official girlfriend, how about… fourth date?”

“Okay, have we had sex?”

Soonyoung choked on his own spit which caused the two of you to end up in a fit of laughter on the street as you reached your next destination.

“Obviously.”

“That’s fair. I’ll tell everyone you were good.”

“I think I love you.”

“Shut up.”

After spending the night waltzing around and parading your further long relationship with your fake new boyfriend to his friends in hopes to prove his fondness for his newest engaged friend has gone away even slightly.

While maybe you were pretending to be on a date with Soonyoung, your head was spinning. If this was a fake date it was better than any date you had previously. Stepping outside to take a break from the party inside you pulled out your phone, jotting down notes and small nuggets of information you learned about Soonyoung’s past wedding experiences.

“Taking notes on me? What are you a PI?”

Behind you, you hadn’t realized the door you snuck out of opened and the boy had followed behind, curious if you were okay.

“Yeah, you’re under investigation for being overly nice. Sorry.”

“What do they say? I didn’t read them, just saw my name.”

“Just some antidotes I want to remember. Nothing crazy.”

“Do you want to leave? I’m starting to reach my alcohol limit and I would rather die than have you see my drunk alter ego the first time we hung out.”

“Yeah, come on, let's go.”

Going back through the back exit, you tripped behind Soonyoung’s tall frame grabbing onto his shoulder and giggling before he stood in the way of you hitting the ground.

His lips were curled into a goofy smile.

“I swear to god if you say something about me falling for you, you will get punched.”

“How did you know?”

“That fucking goofy smile you have on your face right now, I could just see it brewing in that head of yours.”

“Okay, I don’t like that you’ve already figured me out. Let’s go, klutz.”

Before you and Soonyoung could exit back into the fresh air, a familiar face appeared in front of you. Your ex boyfriend. Something about this night clicked for you, it was his party, there were so many people around and the only person from the wedding party you met was the bride. But taking a breath in and looking around the room, you realized how stupid you were to not see all the signs that this party was for him.

“Y/n? Hoshi? Hey, how have you guys been?”

Soonyoung still holding his arm around your shoulder gave a small back and fourth look between you and the tall boy who knew your name.

“You guys know each other?”

“Yep. Hi, Jihoon.”

“I didn’t know you knew Hoshi either?”

“Oh well we just started dating, he invited me to come hangout.”

“Dating? Wow. I didn’t know you had time for people outside of work anymore.”

“Jihoon, if you don’t mind we have to go now. Thank you for the open bar and this amazing time chatting, congratulations on marrying your hookup. Goodnight.”

The start of your walk with Soonyoung was pure silence, there was an obvious elephant in the room and you could tell he was just itching to talk about it, so you decided to prompt him.

“You’re curious aren’t you.”

“Yes. But I don’t want to ask you to talk about it because we’re having fun. So I figured I’d try to ignore it.”

“It’s fine. I’m curious too actually, it’s kind of funny that the girl you liked was hooking up with my boyfriend and now they’re married. And by funny I mean actually funny and we just spent the whole night not knowing that.”

“I didn’t even know that Jihoon had a girlfriend when they first met, he never said anything about it.”

“I don’t blame him actually, I do work way too much. I just wished he’d broken up with me instead of cheating on me for a month.”

“When did you guys break up?”

“Last December.”

“Oh.”

“It was more than a month wasn’t it?”

“I think so.”

“Cool, cool, cool.”

“That’s fucked up y/n, I’m so sorry.”

“That’s okay, we weren’t supposed to be together and his new girlfriend or future wife whatever seems like she’s really nice.”

“She is, but she’s too nice. She does everything he wants, maybe he couldn’t handle your independence.”

“Soony. You caught on that I’m a bad bitch?”

“Have you met yourself?”

“No. But, if I did I’d be obsessed with her and hate her at the same time.”

“That’s exactly how I feel.”

You punched his side, before stopping and realizing you had come up to your front door. Not even worried about the way your feet were aching to get out of your heeled shoes.

“This is me.”

“I know. I’ve been here like three times now in less than twenty-four hours. I’m starting to believe you actually think I’m stupid.”

“Not stupid. Just silly. I’ll see you again right?”

“I mean I did put days on your calendar to schedule out time for me.”

“You littl-“

Suddenly you were cut off by Soonyoung’s hand covering your mouth to put a stop to you cursing him out.

“I won’t take no for an answer.”

Sinking your teeth into his hand he retreated from his momentary confidence quickly, looking at the proud smile you were sporting, pointing your well manicured finger in his face.

“Don’t tell women to shut up, Soony.”

“I never said shut up, you were going to call me a mean name and I’m sensitive. Go back to calling me cute.”

“Maybe. Next time.”

You went in for a one armed hug when all of the sudden Soonyoung came in with both arms, clinking your heads together.

“Very smooth.”

He liked the fact that you constantly teased him while making light of situations, regaining his confidence he pulled you into his embrace enveloping both arms around your shoulders, placing a small kiss on the part of your forehead that crashed into his.

“I’ll see you next week.”

“What’s next week?”

“The wedding, check your planner. Well actually I’ll see you in two nights because we have to shop or go through your closet so we can match! Bye, y/nie.”

Caught off guard by the kiss on your head and watching him hail a cab like it was nothing, you couldn’t help but smile on your way into your building, met by Max at the front desk beaming as wide as you and giving you a wink. Knowing that he saw the cute and awkward interaction you shared with the hyper hamster outside.

The two days in between you and Soonyoung’s first official interaction, you felt yourself looking forward to seeing him again and being in his presence like your own personal serotonin boost.

The insane fact that your ex was marrying the girl he cheated on was enough, but the girl being Soonyoung’s painful crush? Especially when you felt he was becoming yours was beyond insane.

You made up separate drafts of your article about the people who make weddings shine, from the families, the bridal parties. the insane bachelor and bachelorette nights, and mainly Soonyoung’s love for love.

The two works of nonfiction were from different perspectives, one being your head and one being your heart. You couldn’t decide if it was appropriate to present a piece basically claiming how amazing you found Soonyoung for the whole world to see when you’re not even sure if he’d ever consider you to be more than a silly writer girl y/n, his friend or fake girlfriend. Your other was from the space of practicality, a genuine love letter to your career and the person who inspired this story, but also digging deep into the ideals of how frantic and selfish the wedding industry can be and what it means for an unmarried friend to take in burdens constantly for their loved ones when it takes a toll on their own heart.

The biggest debate in your body was the fact the real article, the one you wanted to write, was at the fault of someone who had only in the short space of two days made you feel again, but it was honest and genuine.

You knew Soonyoung had to have some pain working and being a part of a wedding for the girl he saw himself marrying.

Luckily you have another few days to decide which way it’ll go.

Sitting on the thought of what one you should put out, you were awoken out of your thought bubble to a string of buzzes from your cell phone sitting face down on your desk.

None other than the boy that had been living in your head for the past 48 hours.

Soonyoung’s texts were multiple lines of photos and silly messages asking you which outfit he should wear that could match any of the dresses you had hanging in your closet for the wedding.

One of the options was a beige suit, simple in theory but something about the way he styled it with a funky sage green t-shirt and matching sneakers made you smile. Even if you didn’t have anything to match this outfit you would make an effort to go out and spruce up your wardrobe to be on his level.

After quickly responding that it was your choice, he retorted back in his true fashion you’d have to send him your options too or he’d come over to help you.

In a desperate subconscious way you agreed to his antics.

Now nearly an hour later a call came from the front desk that a visitor had arrived asking for consent he could come upstairs which you happily agreed assuming it was none other than Soonyoung himself. The person on the opposite side of the door was not the sharp eyed boy you’d expected, but Jihoon.

“Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you after the other night, I just wanted to say hey.”

“Okay? Then text me. Don’t come over unannounced, I have a friend I’m expecting.”

“You wouldn’t have responded.”

“That’s true.”

Standing with your arms crossed in your doorway not letting Jihoon into the now redecorated apartment you once had let him live in, you weren’t budging on your gut feeling to let him in and talk.

“Can I come in?”

“Like I said. I’m expecting a friend. So.. no.”

“Who? Hoshi? You guys aren’t seriously together? He’s not your type, too goofy.”

“Isn’t he your friend?”

“He’s Nana’s friend, but he’s okay. I’m just saying it's not your style.”

Nana? A stupid nickname for his fiance who’s name was simply Anna. So as you rolled your eyes and shut your apartment door behind you as you stepped into the hallway as a clear defining factor he was not welcome you stood far apart from him as a line in the sand.

“He’s not goofy. He’s sweet and yes he’s on his way so maybe you should leave before saying anything else so he doesn’t get the wrong idea.”

Jihoon wavered a bit, looking towards the elevator door at the end of the hall as if like a movie Soonyoung would walk out of the elevator at the mention he was on his way over.

“Maybe take the stairs. I’ll see you at your wedding with my date.”

Rushing in and slamming the door in his face, you sink to the floor in a moment of pure exhaustion over interacting with someone like your ex.

Why wasn’t Soonyoung right for you? Why did you not want that to be true? And why were you so dead set on proving him absolutely wrong?

In your rush of emotions another knock came to your door. Without looking through the peephole you swung it open rapidly.

“Look I told you to g- oh, Soonyoung! Thank god.”

Your body made a move before your head could even catch up as you ended up hugging him tightly, rushing him inside as if Jihoon didn’t get the message and was watching in from a hidden spot in the corridor.

“Y/N are you okay?”

“Yes. Sorry, someone just came over that I did not want to see. Welcome.”

You watched as his eyes took in the view of your pink and green splattered apartment, things like funky vases full of wildflowers, plant tendrils floating down from shelves tucked between books of various sizes and ages, a small nook with sleeping white and black cat hid inside snuggling into his stuffed toy.

“I love it here.”

“Really? I redecorated recently, it was cold before. I love it now.”

“Also it smells amazing, do you bake? It smells like cookies and coffee. Wow.”

“I do not bake, but I do have candles that give the illusion. What’s in the bag?”

Soonyoung set a small black duffle bag down on the counter and began pulling the contents out one by one, showing them off like a beauty guru.

Wine, five small bags of potato chips, beer Incase you didn’t like wine and he was unsure, a slice of delicious looking chocolate cake, and a container marked with your name of his moms homemade soup.

“Why did you do this?”

“I thought we would have fun while picking out matching outfits. Will you let me see your closet? Please, please, please. I’m so curious.”

“It’s not that impressive at all.”

“If your apartment looks like this then I have only the highest expectations for you.”

Smiling, you jokingly made a come on motion with your fingers and led him into your spare bedroom that now existed as a half home office and half closet.

His eyes took in even more of your fun design work, the racks of records, pictures of you and your friends, and one of the things that made him feel like he could fall in love with you, your rack full of limited edition shoes and bags.

“Not impressive? You have some of the coolest shit I’ve ever seen in here?”

“I’m just a girl with a cat and a lot of time on my hands. Since being single I’ve just spent it on shopping and ordering take out.”

“If you don’t mind me asking what were you and Jihoon like together? You guys seem really opposite to me.”

There it was again, someone not right for you. Was it just in your head that you think maybe you’re the problem of why this comment is being made?

“Uh, we were okay at first. We met in college about three weeks before graduation and spent so much time together. But if I think about it, we just hung out in his dorm where I watched him play video games and watch anime even though I was not interested. I kind of wish I was more outspoken about it. I missed a bunch of things my friends had done wasting away on his futon drinking shitty cheap alcohol and waiting on him hand and foot and whatever else.”

“Really? So you guys dated for a long time I guess. Did it change a lot once you got out?”

“Not really. A lot of people knew we were ‘dating’ but in the time that we did, we probably went on one or two actual dates.”

“That makes me sad actually.”

“Why? I made the choice to do all those things. At least I don’t have an ugly poster of John Lennon on my wall just to show I loved him.”

Soonyoung was set off by that, laughing and imagining you having a photo of a musician on your wall to impress your boyfriend.

“What’s so funny? Haven’t you done anything embarrassing to impress a girl?”

“Definitely. Too many to choose from actually.”

“At least you're charming, I came off as obsessive and stupidly in love. Not a good look for me.”

“Caring too much is never a bad thing when you think you’re in love and you’re charming too.”

“Why thank you good sir.”

“And you’re weird. Which personally is a green flag for me. I didn’t expect that from you actually.”

“Is that a compliment though, really?”

“For me? Yes. I don’t like normal people well, not normal people I guess, just people who have no personality or something I can learn from. I want someone as a friend or whatever else to challenge me a little, it’s healthy.”

“I think that’s really cool of you, I agree. I like people that are willing to try new stuff or get me out of my comfort zone.”

“Was showing me your office a way of me getting you out of your comfort zone?”

“Sort of. This is kind of like my safe haven.”

Soonyoung just gave you a wide toothed smile, beaming from ear to eat that you admitted he was even just slightly somewhat of your type.

As the night went on and on the boy that has now broken down a couple of your walls, not quickly but brick by brick was sitting comfortably next to your cat curled up in the same manor helping you pick out something that would go with his two outfits, one for the wedding itself and one for the rehearsal dinner which he promised you that you’d only eat and leave to have more fun just out of respect for the couple and his friend Anna.

Now each of you taking the bottle of wine he brought slowly, sitting on your floor surrounded by shoes and loose pairs of pants, giggling over nothing he stared in your eyes almost like you could read that he had another interrogating question.

“Was Jihoon the one at the door before?”

“How did you kno–”

“I can’t remember you mentioning anybody that would come over unannounced and make you look as upset as you did.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know why he was here?”

“He just gave me some stupid antidote that he wanted to see me after the other day, I didn’t ask further. When I told him I had a friend coming over he just knew it was you for some reason and then told me we couldn’t be dating seriously because you’re not my type? As if he’d know? It was weird all around.”

“Do you still have feelings for him?”

“No. I realized once we broke up and now after knowing he was cheating on me more than a few nights that it was an amazing decision. When we first ended it I just kicked him out and ghosted all his texts, he used to update me on his life every now and again, the last time we talked for real, before today he called me crying that his Grandmother was sick, so we just had a brief talk and it ended for real there. I genuinely never thought I’d see him again.”

“Also, am I your type?”

Ss wine dribbled down your chin you were once again surprised by Soonyoung’s random fit of confidence.

“Yeah. You’re nice and I love how annoying you are. I think you get under my skin in the best way.”

“Wow. I’m surprised you admitted it.”

“What can I say, wine drunk y/n is honest.”

“And what about my physical type? Sexy, cool, handsome, the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen?”

Taking a note from his book you swung your closest arm to him, you clipped your fingers over his mouth and shut him up.

Much to your surprise he took a note from your book and instead of biting your hand he stuck his tongue through his lips and licked your fingers which caused you to lunge towards him further, jokingly pissed he did just so.

As you were fighting for comedic relief you sat suddenly face to face with him holding onto your wrists to resist more thrash fighting.

The two of you stared at each other filling the room with intense tension of your lips being so close once again.

“If I knew you wouldn’t be mad at me I’d kiss you right now.”

“Soonyoung, you’re so stupid. Why would I be mad at you?”

“So I can kiss you?”

“Nope.”

Soonyoung pushed his bottom lip out from his top, replacing his cute puppy face with a pouty one.

You decided to quickly dive in and pace a peck on his protruding bottom lip.

He immediately let you go and erupted into a fit of giggles like a little kid, as you tried to sneak away quickly he grabbed onto the arm of your sweatshirt which you quickly unzipped and slipped out of, running through the door of your office and into the rest of the house as he chased behind.

“You have to know I’m going to catch you for that, that was so mean y/n.”

As you were winning the fight, getting away from the boy chasing you around, you suddenly tripped up and felt his hand grasp your shoulder, turning you around with secret strength.

Standing face to face with him now, your stubbed toe throbbing through your fuzzy socks, you both were holding in a whole lot of laughter.

Soonyoung’s hand slipped behind your head and pulled you in for a much more romantic type of kiss than you gave him before. The two of you touched lips softly, as your smiles were still prominent on your faces.

Before anything could escalate further your phone began to ring again and your boss's name was plastered over the front, which you answered with panting breaths still in a haze from kissing the boy you made you feel young again.

“y/n? Hi, would you be able to send over a draft of your article you begged me for? We were looking for something to print for tomorrow if you’re interested? I’ll have someone expedite the editing process tonight.”

“Oh, shit. Yeah of course, I’ll rush and email it to you now.”

“Thank you, congratulations y/n.”

“Thank you. Bye.”

Oh my god, Soony, stay here. I have to email my boss quickly about my article, she wants to print it for tomorrow's paper. I’ll be right back.”

“What? Congratulations. But don't worry, I’m not leaving.”

“Good, sorry, be right back.”

Rushing back into your office you flipped open your computer and sent your final article draft, choosing the one that your gut felt would be better for your personal life at the moment, especially after the kiss you just shared with the boy it was about.

Typing a quick message along with your attachment you just said a big thank you and clicked send before grabbing the half drank bottle off the floor and ran back to Soonyoung munching on a bag of chips waiting for you.

“Shall we celebrate?”

“What are we celebrating?”

“Me, idiot. I’ve been trying to get a real article published ever since I got the job doing weddings. I love weddings, but always being so happy and cheerful and not getting a chance to stretch my creative juices is frustrating.”

“Can we also celebrate kissing? That seems more fun.”

“Shut up, asshole.”

Taking a swig from the bottle, you passed it over to your male counterpart and watching him take an equally large drink matching your energy.

You and Soonyoung spent the rest of the night talking about how tomorrow will go, where will you and he be sitting, will Jihoon be giving you side eyes or talking shit with some of the other guests. How nice of a chance it’ll be to experience a wedding simply just enjoying with someone on your side and not for work.

After sitting in bed and still thinking about your kiss with Soonyoung many hours later, you saw a text from your boss letting you know she loved the article and to watch out for it in the morning.

When that finally rolled around, you woke up to a lot of messages congratulating you and your new found success, many people from college, your parents, but the one person you were looking for was nowhere to be found in those texts.

Putting the praise aside for a moment, you slipped back out of your bed to jump into the shower and start getting ready for your dinner celebrating the devil that was your ex.

When you stepped out and went to grab onto your device once again you saw a text from the one person you were most excited to read, but it was less than exciting. Soonyoung expressed how upset the article made him and accused you of using him to further your career, something Jihoon supposedly warned him of the night of his pre-wedding party and he chose to ignore.

Confused why he would be so upset about your praise for him, you ran to your front door and ripped open the pages of the paper only to find the article that you sent was a mistake, it was the one shitting on weddings, basically claiming Soonyoung himself was an unmarried loser, not in those words but you could see why it came across that way. Some of the simple moments of praise for his hard work were cut out in the editing room, only leaving the small bits of gossip and harsh criticisms sprinkled in between.

Rushing back inside as your stomach sank to the floor you tried his number three times before getting no answer. Which made you frantically dial your boss’s number and interrogate her on why parts of your article were cut out, she simply answered that fluff doesn’t sell and she was proud of you.

Soonyoung not responding had let you in on the fact that he wasn’t going to be seeing you today or maybe even seeing anybody for that matter, he was embarrassed and rightfully so.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Continuing your quest on trying to reach him, you decided to still get ready for your night out, maybe not in the intense matching outfit way you wanted to last night, but just something where you could sneak into Jihoon’s wedding party and slide Soonyoung the real article you wanted him to read.

Running down the street to the venue with no accurate directions in sight, you saw your ex standing on a corner, smoking a brown wrapped joint in his suit.

“Jihoon. Jihoon.”

“What? Back to grovel for a favor?”

“Yes, please, just give this to Soonyoung for me. Please, I’ve never asked you for a favor like this, just once do something for me.”

“You’re really serious about him?”

“I am.”

“So you didn’t mean to slam him in the article like you did?”

“No. My boss cut out the good parts of the article, this was the one I meant to send. Just for me. I want you to be happy, Jihoon, I do. I want it for myself too, just please give it to him. Make sure he reads it.”

“Okay.”

“I know we haven’t had the best past and I know I'm coming here askin- Wait? Okay? Really?”

“Yeah. I can tell this means a lot to you and the reason I came over today was just to formally invite you to the wedding. You’re a big part of my life and now Soonyoung’s, well maybe, besides the point. My fiance is one of his best friends, she liked you too, that was the only reason.”

“Oh. Well I don’t think I’ll make it.”

“How about you come on official business and give this to him yourself?”

“No. I couldn’t do that. It’s your day not mine.”

“We both deserve a big love, y/n.”

Taking back your enveloped letter, you couldn’t help but be impressed by how mature Anna had made Jihoon become and you knew he was right. Sometimes love just falls in your lap and you can’t do anything about it.

Ashing out his joint, he handed you the other half as an olive branch to celebrate old times and bid you goodbye until tomorrow.

Before going back inside, he turned to you with one final wish.

“You better look damn good tomorrow too, no suits. Wear something nice to confess your feelings, otherwise you’ll look like a dumbass.”

“Got it.”

Catching your breath and shoving the letter and paraphernalia back into your purse, you decided to take Jihoon’s advice. To look amazing, you stumbled upon a shop called ‘All's Well that Ends Well.’ situation just a block down from the poetry inspired bar Soonyoung took you to just a few days before.

Stepping inside the store, the first thing you saw was a navy blue dress, the halter neckline and the silk straight flowing down to the floor, you knew it was meant for you. Especially because it would match the light pink suit Soonyoung was meant to be sporting with you by his side. The easiest shopping experience of your life.

As the sales associate packed your order up and sealed it with a light pink bow, you knew it was a sign or something of the sort.

With less than twenty-four hours of doing the most insane thing of your life, confessing to a man who essentially hated you after you had been kissing just hours before, you stayed up all night, using the weed that Jihoon gave you to stay focused on the task at hand, you almost considered cutting of your hair to enter a new era of your life, but only girls who were going through something would consider that and you attempted to tell yourself you were calm.

When the morning sun rang around you finished writing a letter to match the one already placed in the envelope to accompany your sorry. You even decorated the outside with stickers of tigers and spongebob characters just to make Soonyoung smile.

Sliding into your navy blue dress and silver heels, your hair was down and curled into perfect waves. You kissed your cat on the head and made your way over to the venue by foot, just to give yourself a little fresh air and piece of mind, hoping to slip in early enough so that you’d be seated before he even knew you came.

Slipping into a space near the back of the room on Jihoon’s side, you opened your phone to an encouraging text from him telling you that you’ve got this and he’s excited to hear more about it later, plus reminding you to have fun and enjoy yourself.

As the progression started you watched along with the other wedding goers, catching glimpses of Jihoon’s smiling family, which made your heart feel warm.

As the wedding part waltz down the aisle in their pastel pink suits and rosy toned dresses, you saw a now blonde again head appear on the arm of a girl who looked a lot like Anna, so it was fair to assume it was her sister.

Soonyoung didn’t glance your way, but something about the change in his demeanor made you aware he knew you had come.

“Everyone please rise for the bride.”

Anna walked out with her father on her arm, floating across the room like an angel in white. Her dress was adorned with small beaded flowers from the tips of her fingers down to the vail over her blonde hair.

She was truly beautiful, you couldn’t help but feel like a peasant in the room with this woman who both of the men you had either once had feelings for or now did once loved.

The whole ceremony was beautiful, but you missed a lot of it as you stared Soonyoung’s way trying to catch his eyes, but he never met yours. He was too busy enjoying the fact that his friends were getting married and the fact you had upset him.

When the ceremony ended you followed the other guests to the front of the church, holding your envelope in your hand and greeting the bride and groom, Anna and Jihoon beamed at you before she pointed her finger to a room off the side of the front door, some sort of administration office where Soonyoung would be waiting for you. Which also told you Jihoon had filled her in on your little plan.

You cracked open the old wooden door, trying to be subtle but the rotting wood creaked under the old floor boards making your entrance more known than you would’ve liked.

Soonyoung was seated in a red leather chair to the side of the desk, his now blonde hair meeting your eyes before his face. Not giving in to turn around and look at you.

“Soonyoung? I know you probably don’t want to speak to me. But, this was the real article. It was never meant to be that way. I’m sorry.”

You placed the letter in front of him on the desk and moved to turn back to the door before you heard his voice.

“So you didn’t mean all those mean things you wrote about me? That I was a desperate groomsman waiting for his shot to have a day for himself?”

“No.”

“You didn’t mean to say that my ostentatious nature was cringe worthy?”

“Not in that way no, my boss cut out all the good things I said about you. She put it in her own words for dramatic effect. I quit this morning.”

“You quit? Why?”

“I wanted to try to make this right in the best way I could, she wouldn’t reprint the article how I wrote it and told me that if I didn’t like her style I should get a job somewhere else. So I quit.”

Soonyoung just nodded, he couldn’t imagine why you would give up a golden opportunity just to prove your boss wrong or right for that matter all because of him. The only way he could make sense of what you were saying is that you were truly sorry and you cared about him.

He made a bold move and threw the letter in the trash can to the side of the old oak desk and got out of his chair to hug you.

“You’re not going to read it.”

Speaking into his shoulder, you got a calming exhale of his cologne.

“I don’t need to. I know you're telling me the truth, you said it yourself you don’t lie when you drink wine, and I can smell it on your breath.”

Slipping your hands up from their place around his neck into his hair you giggled slightly, looking at the now dyed blonde locks of hair.

“You dyed it back?”

“You said you liked it. I thought you’d be my date and I had the appointment so I didn’t want to cancel.”

“You weren’t hoping I’d show up here?”

“I knew you would. I saw you talking to Jihoon outside last night through the window. I wasn’t sure exactly because you did walk away and he never told me what happened. But, when I saw you today sitting in the crowd. I knew my inkling was right.”

“Did the cohesive outfit impress you? I missed one night, but I hope I made up for it today.”

Soonyoung pushed you away slightly by your shoulders and made you do a spin for him.

“You look beautiful.”

“You’re such a dork.”

Soonyoung playfully swung you around in the office covered in photos of church go-ers and crosses, bringing you into his chest tightly.

“So, what did you write in that article? That I was devilishly handsome and cool?”

“Nope. Just that you were a bad kisser.”

“Seems like you need a reminder.”

“Maybe.”

As your lips met Soonyoungs once again your heart sank into your stomach and was beating rapidly. You just fit and he never once doubted your heart.

“What do you say? Should we go outside and dance?”

“Can you even dance?”

“Y/n? Can I even dance? What do you even think I do for a living?”

“Oh. I’m such an idiot. Anna works at a talent agency. Got it.”

“Come on, silly. Before our audience outside gets bigger.”

When you exited the office back into the group of people outside, for some reason Jihoon started a cheer alongside his new wife.

Soon you and Soonyoung were dancing the night away and drinking a little too much than your stomachs could handle.

When you finally got a moment of dizzy drunkenness alone, he had you sitting on a bench where he knelt to the ground. Your mouth got the better of you once again.

“Oh my god you're not proposing already are you I mean I know I’m amaz-”

“Y/n shut up, I’m tying my shoe.”

“Cool, cool. Got it.”

“But the next wedding I attend hopefully I’ll be the groom.”

With a wink Soonyoung sat back at your side as you watched the stars together, making a mental note that the next wedding would belong to the both of you.

taglist: @sahazzy

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chryblossomjjk · 2 years ago

Text

practice (pt. 3) | jjk

⇢ PAIRING: fuckboy!jk x inexperienced reader

⇢ RATING/GENRE: m/18+ | college au, fwb, smut, fluff, angst

⇢ WC: 12.8k sorry

⇢ WARNINGS: emotional at points, fighting rip, oc lowkey in her villain era, they both say mean things to eachother (nothing tew intense), jk is not a himbo >:(, characters are forced to face their insecurites </3, misunderstandings, finger sucking, oral sex (f and m recieving), 69 action if u squint, brief ass eating, a little manhandling, titty sucking (obvi), flavored lube, butt plug moment, miss hitachi is finally here !!!, unprotected sex, corruption kink, squirting, overstimulation, slight dom jk, a bit of manhandling, praise, creampie, maybe unrequited love, maybe not (lol jk u'll find out), where's waldo but instead of waldo its bam

⇢ SUMMARY: sparks fly as you try to forget about jungkook.

⇢ NOTES: it’s finally here! if you haven't read pt 2 in a while, i'd suggest rereading it before reading this part! maybe even pt 1 bc callbacks. you might miss a few things if you don't. kinda nervy to post this bc everyone was so conflicted. hopefully the ending is satisfying for all. also sorry if the smut is meh, this piece was more plot driven than other things i’ve written. thank you so much for the love and support on this series. seriously cannot thank you guys enough. very bittersweet to be saying goodbye to it but i hope you stick around. love you and as always feedback is v appreciated !! big ty to @floweryjeons for betaing !!

⇢ SERIES MASTERLIST

dumbo do u want lunch? i can drop it off in about 30

You were midway through a three hour lab and you really needed to focus. Unfortunately, the professor’s droning was easily overtaken by incessant vibrating. You peek at your phone with a scoff before shoving it back into your pocket.

Jungkook doesn’t get the hint.

dumbo i’ll just get the usu

dumbo lol i forget… ur lab is in room 305 in the civic engagement building right?

Room 222 in the science building. You don’t correct him, though.

It was difficult to ignore the sharp, self-inflicted stabs that pierced through your back whenever he texted you. But you had to rip the bandaid off before it had time to adhere to you entirely. You hadn’t talked to him in days. Not since he lied to you.

Whenever you had the urge to respond, you went through memories. Pictures of him looking unamused, pink pout scrunched up as you smushed his cheeks together. Videos of his nostrils fluttering as blaring snores filled your dorm room; your soft giggles in the background.

Little snapshots of the present that were now the past.

You were slowly weaning yourself off of Jeon Jungkook.

Your phone goes off again during your break.

dumbo hey i’ve been waiting for like 20 min

dumbo gonna head out since ur probably caught up. free until about 4 tho so text me if u want anything i’ll come back

dumbo or we can just get something after the showcase?

dumbo are you running late?

dumbo you know it starts at 7p right?

dumbo ik you hate being late so i’m starting to get nervous…

dumbo just let me know that you’re safe please

Those texts were sent nearly three hours ago. You’ve tried to distract yourself with homework, Sailor Moon, and the watermelon mask you were currently washing off your face. Nothing helped. The guilt lingering in your chest was heavy and you wish it would trickle down the drain like the abandoned products.

You sigh, shaking your hands vigorously to flick off the excess water. A damp knuckle presses your phone screen. It’s 10 p.m. on a Friday. Back at square one.

The scent of your green tea moisturizer fills your nostrils as you glide the creamy substance over your skin. Fingertips dancing gently across the surface of your plump cheeks. The touch is soft and delicate, just like his was-

Intrusive thoughts make you want to remove your frontal lobe.

You try to remind yourself that although vibrant and dashing, Jungkook was anything but your knight in shining armor. Greedy. Disgusting. Selfish. Just like the rest of the men who tried to conquer the tall brick walls of your heart, mind, and body.

You look at yourself in the mirror. Despite the brightening mask, your dewy skin was dull. The inner corners of your big eyes were overtaken by winding red branches. The thick black bags under them appear even heftier than your beloved Playboy duffel. Your plump lips are coated in your Laniege lip mask. It’s candy-flavored, but it doesn’t taste as sweet anymore. You look lifeless.

Did cutting Jungkook off really affect you that badly?

Or perhaps you always looked like this, and the loss of him made you realize how truly gloomy and lackluster things were before.

For the past two months, your reflections were filled with pearly white teeth and crinkled eyes. Being with Jungkook was careless and irresponsible in all the right ways. Whenever you were with him, the negative thoughts that often plagued your mind were forgotten, and you were just… free.

But look where that got you.

The sound of your phone pinging brings you back to reality.

dumbo tae said that you’re home with mina…

Taehyung. What a little snitch. You’ll make sure that Mina punishes him adequately.

dumbo not sure what your deal is but i’m fucking heated

“What do you know, Taehyung?” You sneer his name like a curse; the nasty ‘T’ word.

“I know everything,” he responds nonchalantly, flipping through his absolute mammoth of a textbook. He nods his head toward the guilty party beside him. “Your bestie told me.”

“Liar!” Mina gasps, smacking his sweater-clad bicep. Her voice lowers immediately when Taehyung shushes her. You were in the library after all. She looks at you exasperatedly. “I didn’t tell him like- ‘everything’ everything.”

“I don’t need to know everything.” He closes the hardcover book gingerly, peering at you over the thick black rim of his glasses. You’re convinced they’re a sham, and he only wears them to look professional and intellectual. “My keen deductive reasoning has led me to the conclusion that this situation is—in fact—fucking ridiculous.”

You gawk at bluntness. “Aren’t you literally studying to be a therapist?”

“Psychiatrist,” he corrects with a cheesy grin. “I’m allowed to tell you when you’re being childish.”

“Tae, be nice.” Mina warns with a scowl, holding her index finger out right in front of his nose. “I know Jungkook is your friend, but he’s grimy.”

“I swear, I’m not trying to be a dick.” Taehyung laughs, raising his hands up in surrender. “I’m just giving perspective. I care about you, __.”

“Sure you do.” You answer curtly, rolling your eyes.

“And-,” Taehyung claps his large palms together, fingertips pointed towards you in an accusatory fashion. “-I know Jungkook better than both of you.” He gestures between you and Mina. “He’s not a bad dude.”

“He-,”

“He ditched her to go to a party!” Mina beats you to the punch, voice whiny and frustrated. “And lied about it! He’s trash!”

“Thank you, Mina,” you whisper-shout, placing a finger over your lips to remind her, once again, that you were still in the library. As much as you love her, you didn’t necessarily want all of campus knowing your dirty laundry. Your eyes scan the dimly lit room for eavesdroppers. Luckily, it was fairly empty at this time of day.

“Why don’t you just talk to him?”

“It’s not that simple, Tae,” you sigh, turning your attention back to the empty word document on your laptop screen. In the twenty minutes you’ve been sitting here, you have only managed to type the essay’s title and your name. Spelled wrong. Sneakily, you correct the typo before anyone notices.

“Maybe…” Mina starts, lips scrunching to the side in contemplation. She looks at her boyfriend innocently before tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Playing all the right cards. “Maybe… you could talk to him for her? Or do a little snoopy snoop to see what he’s up to?”

“There’s no way in hell I’m playing double agent for you guys.”

“Come on, Tae!” Mina pouts. “It could be fun!”

“No,” Taehyung laughs, shaking his head. “I refuse to get in the mid-,”

“Hey!”

Taehyung’s words are cut off by an uncomfortably familiar voice. Its usual soft, playful tone was laced with sternness. The sound makes your spine straighten.

Jungkook.

You were so distracted that you hadn’t heard his clunky black boots stomping towards you. The firm grip of tattooed fingers on your shoulder makes you look up. Even under the rim of his bucket hat, you can see the angry stars dancing in his black eyes. They’re hot and scalding with irritation. “Can we talk?”

“About?” You peep in feigned naivety.

“Oh, please,” he scoffs loudly, laughing in disbelief. The seat beside you is yanked out with a startling screech. Jungkook plops down on it and turns to face you, knees digging into your outer thigh. Always so incredibly close. “Don’t give me that shit-,”

“Jungkook.” Taehyung calls, trying to stifle the bubbling lava in Jungkook’s stomach before he erupts. It was rare to see his happy-go-lucky friend so agitated. “Chill.”

His eyes soften at the warning. It’s like Jungkook hadn’t even registered how angry he had actually become. The entirety of his college experience has been spent distancing anger—and any other negative emotion—so far from his being that he couldn’t even detect the cues anymore. He inhales deeply through his nose, white t-shirt pulling tight at his chest, before exhaling.

“You good?” Taehyung asks.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Jungkook nods, bringing a hand up to massage slow circles into his temple. Despite how upset you are with him, the self-soothing mechanism makes your heart ache. “I promise, I’m calm. I just want to talk.”

His pupils dart between the two unmoving figures across from you.

“Alone, please.”

Jungkook and Taehyung lock eyes for a moment, communicating silently through some bro-telepathy that has you and Mina exchanging confused glances. Suddenly, the curly-haired boy nods, collecting his textbook and intertwining his fingers with Mina’s. “Let’s go, babe.”

“Tae, wait!” Mina protests, trying to wriggle out of Taehyung’s grasp. She looks at you apologetically as her boyfriend urges her towards the exit, unable to break free. “Call me after, okay?” She shoots Jungkook a threatening glare before turning away.

And just like that, you were left alone with the man you’d been avidly avoiding for the past week and a half.

“Are you mad at me?” Jungkook questions, silver piercing glimmering in the light as he gnaws on his bottom lip. The pink skin under his bunny teeth was already turning red. “Like… did I do something wrong?”

You look everywhere but him, mindlessly scrolling up and down the empty page on your laptop screen. It was a poor attempt to act unbothered, despite the heavy thumping in your chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The showcase?”

“What about it?”

Jungkook always took your attitude in stride, leveling your petty comments with kisses and playful eyerolls. This eye roll, however, paired with a painfully clenched jaw, is anything but playful. “Quit playing games, __. I’ve had enough,” he grits.

He never calls you by your name.

“Playing games,” you echo with a sarcastic laugh. In the pit of your stomach, you can feel the sadness morphing into a fit of heady anger. The words taste vile and sour on your tongue before they’re spewed at him. “That’s rich coming from you.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the puzzled expression on his face. Eyebrow piercing twitching in confusion as the cogs in his brain spin, trying to make sense of your words. “I don’t understand…”

How does he not understand?

“Why didn’t you come to the showcase?”

You huff out a sigh, gaze fluttering to the ceiling.

“Answer me,” he urges, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, clearly trying to shift your attention back onto him. As if that wasn’t what landed you in this position in the first place.

“Jungkook-,”

Your voice gets caught in your throat when you feel his sharp exhales fan across your cheek. Fast and restless. It makes you miss the deep, peaceful ones he would make when buried under your heavy duvet; hair disheveled from tossing and turning and the brush of your fingers as you lulled him to sleep. His breath smells like toothpaste and vanilla gum. You glance at your taskbar. It’s 12:23 p.m. and he hasn’t eaten yet.

“I didn’t go because this is unproductive,” you sigh, closing your laptop and finally gaining the courage to face the man beside you. “You being in my life is unproductive.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Unproductive.” When your eyes meet his big dark ones, you can’t stand them. You can’t stand him for what he’s done, for how he’s turned something so special to you, so ugly. It coaxes that equally ugly, scaly, green defensiveness out of you. You want to retreat, and rebuild the walls higher, so that your emotional security would never be destroyed again. Anyone who threatened it would be burned, including Jungkook, sitting before you with doe eyes as you prepared to breathe fire in his direction. “I know it’s a difficult word, but you’re a big boy. Sound it out.”

The look on his face makes you regret the low blow instantly.

“Jesus,” he huffs, taking his hat off and scrubbing his hands over his face like he’s trying to wake up from a nightmare. “Why are you being-”

You cringe, expecting a nasty insult.

“-so mean?”

Oh.

Ow.

For some reason, that hurt more than any curse word would.

“I’m not mean.”

“I know you’re not,” he lifts his head, searching your face for any remnant of the girl he’s spent the last two months with. “So why are you acting like this?”

Your silence eggs him further.

“You know what, I’m so fucking sick of you treating me like I’m stupid,” his eyes squeeze closed when he swears, nails digging into his tattooed knuckles as he crosses his big hands. The confession rips through him and hits you like a physical blow. You suddenly remember all of the times you’ve teased Jungkook about his major or insulted his intelligence.

‘What tests? You’re a photography major.’

‘You’re an idiot, Jungkook.’

‘Your major is showing.’

You didn’t mean any of it. Not one bit. They were just shitty efforts to conceal your feelings for him. You never realized that Jungkook was taking your comments to heart. But it was too little too late. You can’t turn back time and the floodgates have already opened.

“Just because I’m not some big-shot science major, doesn’t mean that I’m fucking brainless. And it certainly doesn’t mean that you’re better than me.” With his hat sitting on the glossy wooden table, you can fully see the angry arch in his brows. The scrunch in his nose intensifies as he seethes. “What? You think you’re too good to go to the showcase? If you didn’t want to come you should’ve grown a pair and said something.”

“It’s not that,” you protest, chin quivering with ugly dents as you try to hold back tears. “I just… figured you’d bring someone else.”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, cogs coming to a halt when he finally comprehends your vague statements. “Stop acting like you can read my mind- or that you know me better than I know myself.” He snatches his hat and drops it back on his head, fingers gripping the rim to adjust the position. “Because you clearly don’t know shit about me.”

You watch silently as he scoots his chair back, standing up with urgency. How did things come to this? Two months ago you were casual friends, now you’re fighting in the middle of the school library. You would’ve never let him into your dorm room that night if you knew it would hurt this bad.

“And I actually thought-,” Jungkook says, turning to face you. His lips open and then close promptly before he waves a hand at you. “Fuck it, nevermind. I’m done.”

You look extremely suspect.

Speeding through campus with your hood up, sweater strings almost dangling to the floor with how tight you’ve pulled them. You can barely see where you’re going. The small fluffy peephole you’ve provided yourself is no good for navigating the winding halls of the dreaded liberal arts building.

You’ve been sleeping in later and later; a recent habit. Most days you felt drained, barely able to muster the energy to crawl out of bed. That’s exactly what happened this morning, hence why you’re marching down this evil, forbidden shortcut, in hopes of making it to class on time.

It’s a Tuesday. Jungkook doesn’t have classes on Tuesdays. But you’ve done everything in your power to avoid him and the places he frequents. You haven’t heard from him since the.. incident. Not a single text or call. It hurt like hell, but what did you expect? You weren’t exactly nice to him the last time you two spoke. And it wasn’t like he cared to begin with. He was probably already buried in someone else; moaning blissfully. Meanwhile, you can’t even leave your damn room without thinking about him.

Shut up, evil brain. Back to the matter at hand—getting to class.

You decide that music is the best method of distraction. An exaggerated sigh slips out as you yank your phone out of your pocket. You’re just about to crank your airpods up when a couple of distant voices catch your attention.

“These are from this weekend's showcase, we’re taking them down next week…” A muffled response that you can’t comprehend. “Yep, all are my students.”

You stop dead in your tracks.

The professor’s prideful tone rings in your ears, drowning out whatever breakup playlist you were previously listening to. The mention of a showcase, the showcase, makes your heart drop with a painful thud.

Fuck.

Your skull feels exponentially heavier than normal when you lift it, finally breaking eye contact with the dingy concrete floor underneath you. There are pictures hung all along the white walls of the campus center. No doubt leftover from an event you deliberately skipped.

You roll your head back, attempting to loosen the uncomfortable tension in your muscles. Anxiously gnawing on your bottom lip, you take in your surroundings. Jittery hands pluck out your headphones and plop them back into your Luna-shaped airpod case. Underneath all the sadness and guilt, your body was teaming with curiosity.

You never found out what Jungkook’s topic of choice was. And now that you think about it, you haven’t seen any of his photography. Ever.

A quick look wouldn’t hurt, right?

Besides, maybe this was what you needed to move on. A final goodbye to the man who has held your mind captive for far too long.

With a deep exhale and a heavy heart, you take the plunge and step forward. You lull along the walls, staring wide-eyed at each photo. Most of them take on a dark modern vibe, displaying people and objects in dreary settings. A sea of gray and black. Devoid of color. You glance at the labels above. The topics chosen were gloomy, too.

Hm. Life imitates art.

You wonder if those students have had their hearts broken as well.

A vibrant splash of color makes you halt. Your eyebrows furrow as you stare at the canvas. There’s a blood-red rose. The lens is so zoomed in that the flower eats up the entire portrait. You place a manicured digit against it, tracing your fingertip along the jagged veins in the delicate petals. The imagery is surreal, almost comparable to a heart. Not a cutesy cartoon heart—the literal human organ. You think it’s stunning, standing out amongst the rest like a beautiful sore thumb.

The printed black font along the border makes your breath hitch.

Love - Jeon Jungkook.

The subject confuses you, but the photography makes sense. Of course, this was Jungkook’s work. It’s obnoxious, lively, and so incredibly different from the rest. Stunning and enchanting, nonetheless. The next photo in his set is of two shadows, a bit distorted as they're splayed against the concrete. A couple holding hands. You recognize the silhouettes immediately; Mina and Taehyung. You can’t fight the smile spreading across your face.

Next in the portfolio is a room, white walls decorated with faux ivy vines. The little, golden lights laced throughout them gives the picture a warm saturated glow. At the center of the photo is a woman laying underneath a cream duvet. Her bare back is facing the camera, messy hair sprawled on the pillow. It’s a bit risqué, but you get how it connects to his chosen subject. It’s the aftermath of the physical act of love.

To any other student or teacher strolling by, the woman in the picture was a stranger. But to you, she’s the farthest thing from a stranger.

She’s you.

Jungkook must have taken it while you were sleeping.

A wave of the most perplexing, juxtaposing emotions washes over you. Your palms turn clammy as you try to process what you’re witnessing. Why would he do this? Include a picture of you in a project, literally titled ‘love’, only to fucking lie to you? To take advantage of your affection and string you along while he entertained another person?

You find the answers to your aimless questions in the next photo.

Fireworks.

The only time you remember seeing or hearing fireworks was…

The night of the party.

“Jungkook,” you sigh, pressing your damp forehead against the grainy wood of his door. You never thought you’d be in this position. Chasing after a man. It’s humiliating and out of character, but you need to make things right. “I know you’re in there…”

You’ve been standing outside of his dorm room for the past ten minutes. Knocking, pleading, begging. All to no avail. The sound of rustling blankets and footsteps on the other side makes you lift your head, eyes widening with hope. The optimism is lost once the soft noises stop completely. They only served to confirm your suspicions. Jungkook is home and he’s purposely ignoring you.

Oh, the irony.

Earlier in the week, the roles were reversed. Jungkook was the one pining for your attention. Now, you know exactly how he must have felt that day in the library. And you don’t like it one bit.

“Look,” you huff, shaking a few clumpy strands out of your face. “I know you probably don’t want to talk to me right now… but I’m really sorry.”

The only response you receive is the whoosh of running water.

Your shoulders slump in defeat. Obviously, he’s not going to answer the door. Why would he? He had every right to be mad. You hadn’t hesitated to dismiss him, and his passions, when you were the one upset.

You come to the grim realization that maybe things are better this way.

Jungkook is completely, entirely, wholeheartedly different from you, and you from him. So much so that you were incompatible. You’ve barely dipped your toes into anything serious, yet the two of you were already fighting and miscommunicating. It would never work, whatever it is. It couldn’t.

Deep down in your heart, you know none of that is true.

As much as you try to rationalize the distance, you can’t convince yourself that your life is better like this—because whenever you picture a future with Jungkook or reflect on the past, you see and feel nothing but sunshine. The walls begin to crumble and you feel free. Maybe, the characteristics of Jungkook you deemed annoying and different, were what made being with him so euphoric.

But none of that matters anymore. Whatever chance you had at that, at something more with him, you've completely destroyed. With a grimace and an awful pit in your stomach, you decide the best thing you can do for him is leave him alone. You adjust the takeout bags in your hand and begin to head out.

Just as you reach the end of the dingy hallway, you hear a click and a loud creak. You spin so fast you almost get whiplash.

Jungkook is standing in his doorway, looking at you blankly with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. He’s shirtless, full muscles rippling under his milky skin. Normally you would ogle at the sight of his toned chest and defined abs, but your focus is elsewhere. Like on the red flannel sweatpants hanging loosely on his hips, sharp v-line peeking over the hem. You recognize them from the night you helped him study for an upcoming quiz.

‘This is a conspiracy,’ he grumbled, convinced the test was an elaborate scheme by the school committee to punish him for his frequent drunken mishaps and countless guideline violations. You laughed, resting your head on his shoulder as you helped him memorize terms and ideas. You guys didn’t leave the library until 2 a.m.

He looks warm and cozy. Dark tresses swooping in messy waves across his forehead as he peers at you with doe eyes. After not seeing him or checking in on him for a while, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” he mumbles softly, voice coming out muffled over the bristles of his toothbrush. He pulls it out, letting out a tiny ‘oops’ as a glob of toothpaste hits the floor. He wipes it away with his foot before continuing. “What are you doing here?”

“I…” Everything you wanted to say had trickled out of your mind like the little droplets of water running down your skin.

He meets your silence with an unamused squint and starts to close the door.

“Jungkook, wait!” You shout, taking a few frantic steps closer. “I saw the showcase!”

He pauses. “You did?” His thick brows slant in confusion. “How?”

“It’s still up in the liberal arts building.”

He nods his head slowly as an awkward quietness falls over the corridor. You can tell he’s still upset with you and the tension makes you queasy.

“I have pancakes,” you offer nervously, lifting up the crinkled plastic bags in your hand. It’s so damn cheesy. But you're trying your best. You prayed that he understood the reference, and remembered how he showed up to your dorm in the same exact way. The fateful night that started it all.

“Interesting.” His nose twitches as he tongues the little hoop on his bottom lip. Obviously fighting a smile. Thank God. “What kind?”

“Chocolate chip… your favorite.”

He hums a contemplative noise, scanning you up and down. Your hair is dripping. The pink velvet hoodie you’re wearing is clinging to your figure in ways he knows it isn’t supposed to. “Why are you wet?”

“It’s raining,” you point out.

Jungkook glances over his shoulder, glancing into his room and out the window at the cloudy, gray sky. There’s a change in his expression when he faces you again. “You walked here in the rain?”

You nod meekly.

The harsh glint in his eyes softens. He sighs deeply, head dropping in defeat as he holds out a colorful arm, inked digits gesturing for you to come closer. “C’mere, Bambi. I’ll get you some clothes.”

Bambi.

You’ve never been so elated to hear that nickname.

“Thank you,” you peep, scurrying towards his open door before he changes his mind and sends you packing. Goosebumps form on your skin when your bicep brushes against his bare chest as you hastily enter the room. The light touch leaves your cheeks hot.

“Hold on,” he says, disappearing into his tiny bathroom. You set the pancakes on top of his nightstand, awkwardly standing in the middle of his dorm. This isn’t exactly how you envisioned your first time at Jungkook’s place would go.

While idly taking in your surroundings, you spot a little whiteboard above his bed. On it, scribbled in blue marker, is the biggest boobs you’ve ever seen in your life. There’s a heart eyes emoji tacked on in the corner. A good artistic detail, you think. You should be rolling your eyes at his boyishness. That’s what you always do. But an endeared laugh comes out instead.

Why was a poorly drawn pair of tits making you soft?

Right underneath the whiteboard is a collage of taped pictures. You bend at the waist for a better look. There’s a polaroid of him and Taehyung, arms intertwining at the elbows, both downing a dark, probably alcoholic, beverage. How cute of them. The next photo is of Jungkook on a rollercoaster, tongue out and eyes crinkled as he middle fingers the camera. So wild and free. Your heart swells in familiarity.

But the more you stumble upon, the more unfamiliar Jungkook becomes. There’s a few blurry pictures of a big black dog he’s never spoken about before. The next one has you gushing. It’s a candid image of baby-faced Jungkook, holding up his high school diploma with a proud, big, bunny smile. There’s an older woman in the frame kissing his cheek. You tilt your head in confusion. You wonder if it’s his mother. You had just assumed he couldn’t stand his parents and didn’t keep in contact with them.

Maybe… you don’t have Jungkook figured out like you thought you did. There’s still so much you have to learn. You make a mental note of all the questions you want to ask him later.

That is if there even is a later.

The bathroom door opens and Jungkook walks out. “Here,” he says, handing you a pile of neatly folded clothes. There’s an oversized black hoodie on top. Your favorite sweater, the one you always steal from him. You watch sullenly as he sits down on the edge of his bed.

“I’m sorry,” you reiterate, absolutely loathing how weak and frail you sound. Jungkook doesn’t respond. He just stares into your soul with those scrutinizing eyes. “Can you talk to me, please?”

“I wanted to talk at the library,” he groans, arms jolting forward in frustration, fingers painfully flexed and hooked like claws. His bare chest flushed an angry red. “I’ve been trying to talk to you. All fucking week!”

Startled, you jump at his voice, dropping the stack of clothes you were holding. Jungkook’s eyes widen.

“Ah, I-'' he interrupts himself with a shameful hiss. You pick up the fallen fabrics with shaky hands, placing them on his nightstand with the forgotten pancakes. Jungkook digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, too apologetic and embarrassed for losing his cool to look at you. “I’m sorry.”

To be fair, he hadn’t been that loud. It was more abrupt than anything else. But your Jungkook was as happy and carefree as the wind. This side of him was new, and you were still figuring out how to navigate the uncharted waters. “It’s okay.” You can’t blame him. Not after everything you’ve done. “You’re allowed to be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” he sighs. The tattooed fingers splayed over his eyes slide in to clamp the bridge of his nose. The other hand pats the spot next to him on the black comforter. “Come here.”

“But,” you look down at the damp clothes, “I’m wet.”

“It’s fine. Sit down.”

You listen, cautiously sinking down into the bed. Despite the copious amounts of nude escapades, you’ve never felt more vulnerable with him. Usually, when you’re in bed with Jungkook, he’s panting above you, sleeping below you, or lying beside you. Head snuggled into your neck like an annoying, albeit affectionate, cat. Now, you make sure to keep your distance, anxiously picking at your chipped nail polish.

“What happened?” He questions breathlessly, relieved to finally verbalize the words that were weighing heavy on his chest. “Everything was going great and then you switched up on me. Like the showcase? Really, Bambi? I was the only person there without a guest.”

The disappointment in his voice cuts you deep, but the vision of him at the event he had been so excited for, completely alone, hurts even worse. You were his muse, and you rejected him. Looking at him was an awful decision, because you get lost in his eyes immediately. Those beautiful, captivating, endless eyes. Filled with pain and uncertainty. You realize the only way to make that awful look disappear, is to confess…

“I really like you, Jungkook… a lot. Like- more than just friends…”

Once again, you’re met with silence. Jungkook’s face is unreadable yet so familiar. You've seen that expression before. You can’t pinpoint when or where exactly, but it makes your heart pound so loudly that your ears ring.

“So,” you continue shakily, “the last time we hung out—when you canceled our plans—I got really upset.”

“I was finishing my project.”

“But then I saw a picture of you at a party-,”

“Yeah,” he defends, looking at you exasperatedly, unable to follow your train of thought. “I wanted to take pictures of the fireworks.”

“I know that now,” you admit, shifting uncomfortably in your seat, “but the picture was from Nayeon’s Instagram.”

“Nayeon?” He frowns. “I haven’t talked to Nayeon in months.”

“But you guys were-” your eyes dart around in search of the right phrasing. You settle on ‘a thing’, putting little air quotes around the ambiguous title.

“Why does that matter?” He asks incredulously. “Her and I ended things before we even started hooking up. I haven’t had sex with anybody else since we’ve been a thing.” The last part is teasing, he mimics your air quotes as his pierced pout curls into a smirk. Ah, Jungkook gets it now. Your unbecoming actions over the course of the week were a product of jealousy and possessiveness. Any lingering trace of anger is washed away with the revelation. “I told you that.”

“Yeah, but…” After mulling over your thoughts, you hesitate to speak. You hadn’t realized how ridiculous and childish you were being until now. Taehyung was right after all. “I don’t know, the way you said it seemed… fishy.”

Jungkook deadpans you before shaking his head, chuckling under his breath. You watch it all unfold awkwardly. How embarrassing.

“It’s not funny, Jungkook!”

“Ah!” He echos your shouts through a laugh, cupping your head with his large hands and jittering it gently. “Stop thinking! Your brain is evil!”

Hm. Valid point.

“In my defense,” you retort, cuffing his wrists with your tiny hands. His skin is warm and soft. You’ve missed touching him so much. “You literally mentioned Nayeon while we were having sex.”

The playful stars in his eyes combust. “Huh?”

“Oral fixation.”

His eyes widen in remembrance. “Oh shit,” he groans, slumping down, hands dropping into his lap. “Looking back, that was so fucked, but I- I just thought it was funny. I swear I didn’t mean anything, like- bad by it. I-.” Frustrated by his own stuttering and lack of judgment, Jungkook mushes his fingers into his sockets before laying down in defeat. “That was so fucking stupid of me. I’m stupid. I’m sorry, Bambi.”

Stupid.

That word coaxes a visceral reaction out of you.

“Don’t say that,” you whisper. His tattooed fingers part in the middle as he hesitantly peeks at you. You giggle for a moment, and so does he, but then you feel the gravity of the situation. Sniffling, you look down at the beautiful boy. How could you have ever been so nasty to him? You push his bangs back gently. They’ve gotten longer. Cupping his cheek, you slowly brush your thumb across his soft skin. You’re afraid that if you’re too rough, he’ll slip right through your fingers. “You’re not stupid, Jungkook... I’ve never met anyone who sees the world how you do. You’re so creative and clever in your own right… I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t, because I don’t think that at all.” Voice crack. “I never did.”

“Hey,” Jungkook coos in concern. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay,” you argue, blinking furiously to fight back the waterworks. “And I’m really sorry about the showcase. I know how important it was to you.”

“Shh,” he shushes, “please don’t cry.” He catches your hand and brings it to his mouth, pressing the sweetest, gentlest kiss to your fingertips. “You apologized, so we’re good, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you sniffle. It feels like a ton of bricks have been lifted off of your shoulders. “For what it’s worth, your portfolio was gorgeous.”

“Nah,” he teases, wrapping an arm around your waist and encouraging you to lay down with him. “You’re only saying that because you were in it.” You smile softly, thankful for his light-hearted banter. You stay like that for a while. Face to face. Just looking at one another. You think you could stay like this forever, basking in his beauty. His warmth. Jungkook speaks first. “Why didn’t you just talk to me about the picture?”

“I guess, I was just scared of losing you… but then I just started ignoring you, which doesn’t make sense… so probably should’ve just talked to you about it.” The stream of consciousness makes him laugh. “I really like you, Jungkook.”

“I don’t do relationships.”

You feel your heart shatter into a million, irreparable pieces.

How cruel.

“Wait, those aren’t the right words,” Jungkook shakes his head. “What I meant to say is that I’ve never actually been in a relationship.” The stammered admission has you stunned. Campus fuckboy Jungkook has never been in a relationship? “And I have no fucking clue what I’m doing but… I really like you, too. I want you, I do… I don’t know how good of a boyfriend I’ll be but,” he looks at you for the first time throughout his nervous ramble. His eyes are just as terrified as yours. “I’m willing to try if you are.”

You blink at him. Did he just say… boyfriend?

“__,” Jungkook calls, anxiously toying with his lip ring. “Do you want this?”

You’ve never wanted anything more.

Without warning, you smash your lips into his. This kiss is sloppy and brash, but he’s yours. Jungkook is yours. “I think you chipped my tooth,” he winces, chuckling breathlessly. “Is that a yes?”

You nod vehemently.

“Okay,” he smiles, tilting your chin, “now give me a real kiss. None of that amateur shit you just pulled.”

You kiss him again, head full of clouds and tummy full of butterflies. Jungkook grabs under your thighs, maneuvering you on top of him, knees on either side of his cinched waist. Your lips are more controlled this time. There’s a little tongue action. Nothing too dirty, just soft brushes and prods like you’re two virgins testing the waters. Everything is slow and unhurried. You feel like you’re floating, levitating, fucking astral projecting.

“There we go,” Jungkook grins, the rounded tip of his nose tickling yours. It’s so sappy, and you can only imagine how dumb you two look, staring at each other with sparkly eyes and goofy smiles.

Jungkook is still Jungkook, though.

A sneaky hand and the grinding of a zipper interrupts the cute moment.

“You perv!” You shriek, giggling wildly as you swat his naughty fingers away. The damage is done, and the sleeve of your open sweater slips down your bare shoulder. “Is sex all you think about?”

“Mm,” he hums in confirmation, placing a peck on the newly exposed skin. “Sex with you,” he specifies before peeling the damp material from your arms and tossing it onto the floor. You cringe at the clanging of your expensive, deadstock, Juicy Couture hoodie. “Why are you so covered up?” Jungkook sits up to suck on your erect nipple, right through your translucent, white tank top. Whimpering, you grind against him. “You gotta take this off…” he sighs dreamily, yanking the pesky shirt over your head.

Wow. He’s extra needy today. Not that you’re complaining.

“Jungkook,” you complain, arms crossed over your chest. “Stop staring!”

“Why are you being so shy?” He does this often. Gawks at your naked body until your skin burns and your cheeks sting. It's a strange feeling. So uncomfortable yet so reassuring. You’ve never had a man look at you the way Jungkook does, like he’s trying to remember every birthmark, curve, and detail. That level of intimacy was scary. You can’t help but squirm under his intense gaze. “You’re my girl now, aren’t you, baby?

His girl. You swoon.

“I am, it’s just kinda awkward.”

“How so?” He patronizes, bottom lip jutting out in a deep pout. “Can’t I look?”

“You can just… don’t stare.”

“I do what I want.” The sudden switch in his voice makes your breath hitch. “Move your arms. Let me see you.”

Oh. He’s in one of those moods.

You and Jungkook rarely dabbled in sub and dom dynamics. Maybe, he was too afraid of intimidating you. Maybe, you were too afraid to initiate. But boy was his aggressiveness a treat. The duality between the relaxed attitude he carried in his everyday life, and the occasional primal beast that came out during sex, made your mouth water.

“Really?” He tuts his tongue when you counter him with a scowl, raising a threatening brow at you, code for ‘go ahead, test me’. You do, not moving a muscle.

Jungkook physically pries your arms apart and twists them behind your back, holding your wrists together in one hand. The swift movement makes you gasp.

“This okay, Bambi?”

All you can see over the bubbles of your cheeks is his tangled, black hair. His forehead rests against your collarbones, sharp exhales fanning across your chest. The hot gusts make your nipples pebble and the light stimulation sends a jolt of electricity coursing through your spine.

“Yes,” you whimper.

Using his free hand, Jungkook grips your jaw, indulging you in a sweet kiss. “Good girl.” The whispered praise has your clit throbbing. He turns your face towards the sleek mirror mounted on the wall. “Look at you, baby.”

Insecurity looms over you like a black raincloud as you’re forced to look at the reflection. The sight of your nude body makes you feel icky. Instinctively, you try to jerk away.

“Hey, stop-” he gruffs, tightening his grip to cement you in place. “Chill. Take a deep breath.”

You obey, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply.

“Why are you so combative today?” The rough edge falters for a moment when Jungkook confirms that he ‘just learned that word yesterday from a synonym website’. You giggle. Why must he be so adorable? “Don’t I always take care of you?”

“You do.”

“Do you trust me?” You nod. “Use your words, baby.”

“I trust you, Jungkook.”

“Good girl,” he smiles, making you face the glass again. His touch is much more gentle this time, guiding you with a delicate finger on your chin. “Don’t look at me,” Jungkook chuckles when he catches you staring at him and then points at your bewildered expression, “eyes on you.”

Despite the initial resistance, looking own reflection isn't as difficult as it was the first time. There’s little things you pick up on, like the way your thick, fluffy hair lays. The way your chest looks so supple pressed against his. How your hips curve out at the right angle. Your skin is smooth and poreless. That Laneige toner is really out here doing the lord's work.

“Look at how beautiful you are.”

Although Jungkook’s words are sweet, you wouldn’t go that far. But you guess, one could say you’re cute—which is more credit than you’ve given yourself in a while.

“Aren’t you so beautiful, baby?”

You hum to appease him, but this experience was definitely a start. You’re gaining self-confidence, one baby step at a time. “You’re beautiful, too.”

“You think so?” He asks airily, flashing one of those teeny tiny smiles he does, where only his two front chompers poke out. You swear this man is an angel, or some mythical being that was too ethereal to exist on planet Earth. Mumbling a small ‘uh huh’, you peck at the corner of his mouth. His silver hoop feels icy against your lips, but his hands, rubbing soothing lines up your back, are so warm. “I wish you saw yourself the way I do,” he says with sparkly eyes. “How could I want anyone else, Bambi?”

Your heart swells two sizes too big and you don’t even know how to respond.

“Alright, space girl,” Jungkook chuckles at your ditzy state, delivering a quick swat to your ass to bring you back to reality. An impatient, tattooed arm is hooked under your thigh, tossing you to the side before he gets to his feet. “Lay down. ‘S been a while since I ate that pussy.”

“Wait,” you say, unphased by his lewd comment. “Can I…” you look down at his crotch, “you know?”

“What?” He smirks at your vagueness. “Suck my dick?”

Foreplay normally consisted of Jungkook’s head between your thighs, his fingers milking your g-spot, or a shy handjob here and there. Now that he’s your boyfriend, you suppose it’s finally time to return the favor. Especially since he looks so delicious with his messy hair and his pretty tits out.

“Please,” you choke, cheeks burning with embarrassment at how quickly the plead slipped out.

“You don’t have to beg,” he purrs, stepping between your parted thighs sat at the edge of his bed. You gulp, nose aligned with his growing bulge. “Actually, yes, you do,” he retracts, swiping his big thumb across your bottom lip tauntingly. You’re dripping, already knowing where things are headed. “Been a bad girl lately, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” you pout, shrinking under his beady eyes, peering right at you over his big nose. “But you said we’re passed that.”

“We are,” he agrees, “but I could use some reassurance. Wanna give me a little bit, baby?”

“How?”

“Suck it,” he requests, tapping his thick digit against your deep frown, “show me how good you’re gonna blow me… just so I know…”

God, you can’t deny him. Not when his voice is drenched in lust and he looks that yummy. Flicking your hair over your shoulder, you grab his wrist, taking his thumb into your mouth, all the way down to his palm. Moaning, you swirl your tongue around the pad. He plays along, plunging and pulling his finger into your wet suction. Your lips are going to look so fucking pretty around his cock, Jungkook thinks.

“‘Kay, no more,” he says, voice strained as he yanks his hand away. The movement makes you accidentally bite your tongue. Asshole. He proceeds to tangle his spit-covered hand into your hair. Major asshole. With a thick fistful, Jungkook shoves you into his clean-shaven pelvis. “Am I hard yet? Check for me?”

He knows he’s hard. You know he’s hard. But you indulge him anyway, mushing a sloppy kiss into his v-line. The view of his eyes is disrupted by the heavy heaving of his chest, and his cute little nipples; spiked and erect. Dipping down, you place a loving peck on the tip through his pants. The red material is damp from his arousal. “Yep, hard.”

“Cute,” he laughs in reaction to how sweet and innocent you look down there. “Take it out, then.”

You tug his pants down, letting them pool at his ankles. His boner springs up with vigor, whacking you in the nose on its path up to his navel. “Oh fuck,” he gasps, smacking a hand over his mouth in guilt. You glare at him, suspicious of how genuine that ‘guilt’ really is. Something you’ve noticed about Jungkook is that his smiles reach his eyes first. You don’t need to see his lips to know he’s holding in a laugh. The little stars in his irises and the crinkles in the outer corners blow his facade. “You okay, Bambi?”

“Control your dick, Jeon,” you sneer.

“Can’t,” he pouts, wrapping his palm around his tree-trunk-sized base while kicking his pants aside, “he wants you.” You’re impressed at how quickly he steers the conversation back to sex. Also, personifying his dick? That’s new. Clicking his tongue, Jungkook measures his hard cock across the length of your face. If it wasn’t for the curve, his pretty pink tip would be touching your hairline. “How’s he gonna fit, baby? You sure you can take it?”

The questions were rhetorical, purely dirty talk, but they held a piece of the intimidating truth. “I don’t know,” you respond honestly.

“Have you ever done this before?” Sensing your nerves, he pulls back a bit.

“Only once,” you shiver, recalling the questionable memory. “So I don’t know how good I’ll be at this…”

“Pfft,” he dismisses your concerns, “don’t worry about that.” He pets your cheek and you nuzzle into his touch, thankful for the comforting gesture. Then, Jungkook plops down, shimmying up the bed clumsily until he’s hunkered down in his pillows. Following suit, you turn to face him and begin tying your hair up.

“Wait!” He hollers, stopping you at the elbow. His eyes widen at his own unexpected outburst. “Leave it, please. I like it down…” he coughs, “so pretty.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see your frizzy baby hairs shooting wildly in all different directions. Pretty? Regardless, you let go, messy strands falling in loops against your chest and back.

“I have flavored lube if that helps. In my nightstand.”

Of course, Jungkook owns flavored lubricant. It's pretty on-brand for him. But your eyes nearly pop out of your skull when you open his top drawer, unveiling almost an entire Adam & Eve store.

That’s a stretch and you’re dramatic.

Still, you stare in wonderment. There’s an unopened pack of condoms, ‘ribbed for her pleasure!’ printed on the front in purple letters. The blue and white wand next to it makes you choke. The Hitachi. It’s much bigger than you expected, but it makes sense. If it’s as powerful as Jungkook boasted, it must need a fucking car battery. You gulp.

“Snooping through my things, Bambi?”

“No,” you squeak, shaking your head. “You have quite the collection here, Mr. Jeon.”

“Mr. Jeon, that’s sexy,” he laughs, making you jump with an unexpected smack to your ass. “See anything you like?”

Cheeks ablaze, you stay focused, finally spotting the little aqua bottle of… blue raspberry flavored lubricant? You pick it up, causing a shiny piece of metal with a little glint of pink to roll out.

“Really, dude?”

Jungkook’s brows furrow in confusion until he sees the silver butt plug, decorated with a pretty pink gem on the end. Absolutely perfect for you. “Oh, yeah,” he snatches the toy from your clammy hand and eyes it with pride. “Isn’t it pretty?”

“I can’t believe you actually bought one.”

“Why not? I said I was going to.”

“I know,” you huff with a nervous snicker, “but I didn’t think you were actually going to do it.”

“I mean,” he looks at you like you’re brainless, “you like anal, no?”

“No!” You shriek defensively. Anal play wasn’t even on your sexual radar...

Well, that’s not entirely truthful.

You enjoyed it the last time you had sex with Jungkook, in the shower, getting stretched out by his thick thumb in your butt. You remember how mindblowing and pleasurable it felt to be full. “Well, maybe. I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” he smiles reassuringly. “We don’t have to use it. I just figured it’d be nice to have, in case you wanted to experiment, you know?”

He’s so sweet and thoughtful it makes you ill.

Now that you think about it, your sexuality is basically untapped. You’ve barely scratched the surface of self-discovery. Before Jungkook, you’ve never had a man care about your pleasure, or encourage you to take risks for your own sake. No ulterior motives. Being with Jungkook was like skydiving. Horrifying at first, life-changing once you took the plunge. With him, the parachute was there whether you decided to jump or not. You know that you’re safe, so why not take the plunge?

“Actually, Jungkook,” you stammer, “I kinda wanna try it… the butt plug.”

“You sure?”

“I’m positive.”

The conviction in your voice is like a beautiful ballad in his ears. Brick by brick, you’re opening up. Every day spent together, the walls erode a bit more.

“I got the smallest size I could find, see?” He holds the toy up to his thumb to demonstrate. It’s only a little longer, a little thicker. “So it’s not that far off from what you’re used to.”

“Thank you, baby,” you gush, planting a fat kiss on the dough of his cheek. The contrast between his bready, baby face and his razor-sharp jawline makes you dizzy. You need him in your mouth asap. “Can I suck your dick now?”

“Absolutely, but first can you-,” his index finger twirls in a circle. You blink at him blankly. “Ah, fuck it.” Deciding it’d be much easier to move you himself, Jungkook sits up at the waist to spin you until you're face to face with his third leg, resting patiently against his stomach. The modified 69 has you creaming. “Like that…” he mumbles dreamily, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your track pants, tugging them down your thighs to expose your perky behind and glowy cunt.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Innocent little thing…” he whispers, smoothing a palm over your lower back. He leans up to chomp on the fat of your ass cheek, leaving bunny-toothed dents in your skin. A predator eating its prey. “Want help?”

“Please,” you mewl, melting under his touch.

“Spit,” he orders, cupping an inked hand under your mouth. Reluctantly, you spit into his palm. He uses your saliva to wet himself, coating his unbearably hard cock with a few languid pumps. Opening the cap, Jungkook squirts a little drop of lubricant onto his finger. “Taste.”

You softly suck on his fingertip. The liquid is sweet like a blue raspberry jolly rancher, but it’s not nearly as sweet as Jungkook’s deep guttural moan and hooded gaze. So worked up just for you. Only you. Yours.

“This, too,” he coos, bringing the butt plug up to your lips, “suck it.”

Seeing him this needy and touch-starved was doing things to you. Maybe you should ignore him more often, if it meant that he would be this feral. You comply, wrapping your lips around the icy metal.

“Being so good, baby,” he affirms, resting the drenched plug against his solid stomach before squirting a generous amount of lubricant onto his length, tugging until he’s glistening with a sticky blue sheen. Big and pretty. “Just start with the tip, alright? Go slow.”

You nod, mesmerized by the little bead of dew resting on the slit of his pretty pink head. Well, it’s a bit blue now. Cotton candy. Yummy.

“Stick your tongue out.” You do, hovering closer. Jungkook taps his length against your tongue with nasty, wet smacking noises. “You want me so bad, don’t you?”

You nod impatiently, making your flat tongue brush against the crown of his leaking cock

“Fuck,” he groans, “put it in your mouth.”

There are a few reasons why you find blowjobs problematic. Unfortunately, you were cursed with an annoyingly overactive gag reflex. Very unideal for dick sucking. However, your primary concerns were taste and texture. But Jungkook’s cock feels like butter when you take it into your mouth. Smooth and silky. And the lubricant made him candy-flavored.

“You like that taste, Bambi?” Jungkook chuckles at how eager and dutiful you look, licking and sucking on his swollen tip like a lollipop. You hum in response, slowly swirling your tongue around his tip with purpose. Giving you a hand, literally and figuratively, Jungkook starts stroking the shaft, stimulating the parts of him you have yet to gobble up. “Want more?” You’re not sure what he’s referring to, but you agree anyway, completely entranced by him. With that, Jungkook squeezes under the tip, and you feel a tiny burst of precum hit your tastebuds.

He’s so sexy you could die.

Moaning, you clench your thighs together for some much needed friction, causing a single drop of wetness to trickle down your leg. Right before his very eyes. He’s never been so hungry, and it would be so easy to just…

“Jungkook!” You moan so loudly you’re sure everyone on campus can hear it. He had laid his tongue flat, trailing your arousal back up to your pussy and then sensually dipping between your folds in one hot lick. He even traces higher, prodding against your other hole until you’re seeing stars.

“Watch your teeth,” he winces when you get carried away, “be gentle, baby.” Peeping a shy apology, you curl your lips over your teeth and slide down past the tip until you’re halfway down his length. You focus on your breathing, nostrils expanding as you inhale deeply. “That’s it, take more.”

So captivated by his ‘yeahs’ and ‘uh huhs’, you miss the sound of a cap clicking open. Suddenly, you feel a cold drizzle slide between your cheeks, before a pair of warm hands spread the slippery substance all over. He uses the residual to thoroughly coat the butt plug.

“Gonna put it in now.” He spreads you open with one hand, pressing the silver against your clenched muscle. “Let me know if anything feels off.”

The initial push is a bit much. You pull off of him with a wet pop, whimpering as he sluggishly inserts the foreign object. He stops at the sound of your whines.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah- fuck,” you grunt, “big, thas all. Please, keep going.”

“I mean, it’s not that big,” Jungkook chuckles, running some saliva over the toy for more moisture, “you’re taking it well, though.” Slowly but surely, he works you open. The noises you moan around his cock are obscene. Not because it hurts, but because it’s so satisfying.

“Feels good, Koo…”

“Sheesh,” he breathes, staring in astonishment at the pink gem in your ass, “it’s so fucking pretty. So sexy.” In his fucked out, head empty state, Jungkook bucks up, shoving all eight of his curved inches down your throat. He doesn’t realize what happened until you pull off with a gag and teary eyes.

“Bambi,” he coos wearily and fear ridden. “I didn’t mean to do that, I swear.”

You send him the meanest, fiercest glare you can conjure up, hoping his conscience burns just as much as your throat does.

“No, come on,” he pleads in despair, reaching for you as you crawl away, “I’m sorry. It was an accident. I wo-,”

You shut him up by hoisting a shaky leg over his hip, straddling him. “You really can’t control yourself, can you?” You hover over him with a teasing smile. How could you possibly stay mad at him when he looked like Tuxedo Mask? The dreamy love interest of your favorite cartoon.

He sighs in relief, panic leaving his body as fast as it came. “No, I can’t,” he smiles softly, shaking his head and snaking both arms around your waist, “not with you.”

And at that moment, you swear you’ve never been happier.

The closeness you felt was indescribable. Not physically, although his python grip was warm and comfortable. It was all emotional. You’re spiraling out of control, heading flipping and stomach somersaulting, but it’s okay—a contained type of chaos. Jungkook feels it too. The shift in the air. The subtle, yet painfully obvious, change in your dynamic. You’re different this time around. A little more outgoing. A little more fearless, as you sit on top of him. He loves it. He thinks he might even love…

“You gonna ride me, Bambi?”

“Mhm.” You feel like a schoolgirl again when you kiss him. That nervousness, wrapped in unbearable excitement, whenever you passed your first crush in the halls. Yeah, that's how you feel right now, looking down at the most stunning person you’ve ever experienced.

Sparks. Fireworks. Butterflies.

You and Jungkook exchange shy smiles when your hands touch, reaching for his erection, desperate to close the gap and become one. So ready to connect your bodies, minds, and hearts in the most intimate way. Clumsily, you fail at first. You’re both so wet that his flushed tip slips, completely missing your entrance and sliding past your clit.

“Sorry,” you chirp abashedly.

“That’s okay,” he pipes, holding himself up for you, “try again.” Just the thick head of his cock resting against your folds is enough to know that there’s going to be an adjustment period. A stretch. There always was, Jungkook is fucking huge. But you have a feeling that this new position would hit differently, making him feel bigger, harder, longer. With a firm grip on your hip, he guides you down onto his piercing length. A symphony of moans and sighs fills the room.

“How’s that?”

You’ve never felt so full.

The butt plug makes the squeeze even tighter, pushing his cock right into your g-spot. The burn ignited a mind-numbing fire inside of you. That, or he was just so deep that you felt him in your stomach. “‘S okay,” you whimper, gnawing on your lip and clinging onto him for stability, “really deep like this, Koo.”

“Take your time,” he gruffs, wincing under the dig of your petite fingers, making little crescent indents in his biceps. Amid sex, the tension in your body served as a reminder that you’re still learning. He was doing his best to be good, but the way your pussy just swallowed him up like that, triggered something primal. Tightest, wettest pussy he’s ever had the blessing of penetrating. Biting his tongue until his mouth tastes metallic, Jungkook battles the urge to thrust up into you until you’re dumb and drooling. He’s trying so hard to be good. The internal struggle is heard in his voice when he speaks, strained and gravely. “Start slow.”

Eventually, the tiny licks of pain transform into a milky, insatiable hunger. When you look down at him, all you see is the base of his thick neck, head thrown back as he succumbs to the gratification of your walls. ‘Wow, what a man,’ you think to yourself. Your man. Encouraged by your eagerness to please, you begin sloppily jerking your hips at a fast pace. No flow or rhythm.

“Easy, easy,” Jungkook shushes with a grin, stopping you at the waist. “Why are you in such a hurry, hm? We have all night.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” he laughs, grabbing the shaky hands that are resting awkwardly on your thighs. “Let’s get your form right first. Lean on me.” With the command, your palms are placed flat on his broad, solid pecs. Already, the angle and leverage work with his curve deliciously. “And it’ll probably feel better for you, if you moved like this instead,” Jungkook grips your ass, rocking you into a grinding motion. Instead of up and down, your cunt drags back and forth on his throbbing shaft.

He’s right. It feels so much better like this. The dreamy sensation has you moaning and moving like a pornstar.

To be honest, this wasn’t even the type of video Jungkook clicked on when looking through his PornHub feed in the mornings. Absently scrolling past orgies and blowjobs like the daily newspaper. He preferred things fast. Pummeling every inch into you before pulling out swiftly, leaving only the very tip inside to keep you needy and begging. But fuck, the slow, sensual rolls of your hips were turning his brain to mush. And the way you’re dripping down his balls might make him demote missionary to his second favorite position. He’s hypnotized, staring up at your perky tits, rippling and bouncing freely above him.

“Yeah, baby…” you cheer, carding your fingers through his thick, healthy hair as he sits up at the waist, latching onto your nipple. The gentle runs turn into harsh tugs when he takes the sensitive teat between his teeth. The overstimulation makes you hiss.

“Taste so good,” he huffs, “I can’t keep my mouth off of you.” Slicking his wispy bangs away, Jungkook leans back, stealing a naughty peek at you fucking yourself on him. Using him just how he likes. He spreads his legs apart, praying it’ll help you sink down even further, if possible. “Yeah, take it all…”

“Love taking it all…”

That hot, gooey ballooning is already forming in his balls. The pooling in his shaft is a warning; he’s going to bust soon. Jungkook maintains a strict ladies first policy, so he needs to think of something. Fast. A lightbulb switches on in his head when your neglected clit glides across his smooth pelvis.

“Hold on.” With a hand on your lower back, Jungkook squeezes you against him, preventing you from toppling over as he leans to the side and fiddles around in his special drawer. You gulp when he takes out the infamous vibrator.

“You look terrified,” he jokes, pointing out your fearful gaze and plump lips, currently forming a cute little ‘o’ as you observe the wand.

“Hm, I wonder why?” You scoff at him in fiend ignorance. “Oh, it’s superrr strong, most girls don’t even last five minutes,” you mimic in your best Jeon Jungkook impression. Voice dropping an octave to match his deep, even tone. You think it’s pretty accurate, but his melodic giggles say otherwise.

“I mean, it is,” he confirms, powering on the vibrator, “but there’s different settings, like, here’s the lowest.” The white crown is placed on your inner thigh, letting you get accustomed to the movement before he uses it to destroy you, and your most private areas. The low rumble travels up the muscle in your leg until it reaches your clit with a faint hum. “See? Not bad, right?”

Wrong.

The lack of foreplay on your end, had you teetering on the edge. So when Jungkook presses the strong, creamy buzz to your swollen bud, you’re a goner.

“Fuck!” You wail. “This is the lowest speed?”

“Tell me how it feels.”

“I- oh!” Evilly, Jungkook moves the toy down, nudging the rounded corner underneath your hood, directly stimulating your little bundle of nerves. “I… don’t know… can’t… think right now…”

“Have nothing to say now, huh smart girl?”

Oh, so this was your punishment.

If you could even call it that. You’ve never felt so fucking good.

The rapture coursing through your vein forces you to stop, clawing at Jungkook’s shoulders. He picks up where you left off, rutting into you with vigor, hitting all of your sweet spots perfectly. That, combined with the smooth plug in your ass and the vibrator on your clit, has you overwhelmed and out of control.

“Fuck! Jungkook, I can’t- too much.”

You’re cumming before he even has the chance to object. Thighs quivering. Arms shaking. Eyes rolling back into oblivion. The darkness is disrupted by lightning bolts of white, hot pleasure. Your entire body tingles like you’ve just stuck your acrylic into an outlet. Jungkook guides you to the light as you brace the crashing tsunami of your orgasm.

A literal tsunami.

“You squirted.”

“I did?”

“A little.” Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance to witness it. Just relished in the warm splashes on his pelvis, his upper thighs, and his cock. You nuzzle into his shoulder, groaning disgruntledly in shame. Jungkook humors you by resting his cheek on top of your head, swaying subtly as he holds you. “Guess you’re not my Bambi anymore. Deer can’t swim.”

“They can swim,” you murmur. “You don’t shit about deer, Jungkook.”

“You’re more like a fish or something,” he coos happily, ignoring your correction. “...Ponyo.”

“You like Studio Ghibli movies?” You ask, picking up your heavy head and looking at him with big, animated eyes. “Since when?”

“Since before my balls dropped,” he responds curtly.

“I didn’t know that…”

“I think there’s a lot about me you don’t know yet, baby.”

There’s no malice in his words. They’re not a sneaky jab, or an attempt to make you feel guilty. They’re just the truth.

“Can I ask you something, Kook?”

“Of course, you can,” he hums, friskily nipping at the apple of your cheek.

‘Do you like anime in general? Or just Studio Ghibli?’

‘If so, what’s your favorite? Oh my God, this is so exciting!’

‘Is that your dog in those pictures?’

“You’re crazy, and yes, that’s my dog,” he chuckles at your endless string of curiosity. “But how about I nut first?” As if on cue, his member twitches inside of you, reminding you that he’s still hard and waiting patiently for his release. “And then you can interview me. Sounds good?”

“Yes,” you say, cheeks scalding. “Sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry,” Jungkook repeats, pecking you lovingly. "I'm gonna lay you down now..." Strategically, he maneuvers you onto your side, plopping down behind you. You curl into his frame, back arching with the rise and fall of his panting chest, his beautifully sketched arm wrapped around your waist. The other rests on the bed, sticking straight out for you to use as a pillow. Your top leg is thrown over his hip, spreading you enough to run his length over your puffy cunt. Grabbing the Hitachi, he brings it back to your engorged clit. The touch makes you yelp.

“Mm, I love how sensitive you get,” he whispers, licking a hot, needy stripe against your cheek. You peep out a confused noise, cowering under his tongue. Yuck. He’s so gross… but so sexy. “It’s not even turned on yet, baby. What would happen if I put it all the way up?”

“I think I’d fall in love with you…”

His heavy breaths stop as locks eyes with you. You can't distinguish the iris from the pupil. It all blends together like the night sky, filled with little stars of raw emotion. He’s pondering something, dewy lips parting and closing as the thought fades.

Nothing is said, but you don't mind. Because when he enters you, rocking into you with languid, passionate thrusts, you feel it. The unspoken words surround you like the weather. They’re warm like a summer breeze.

“Mine, isn’t it?” He speaks against your lips, Hitachi set to the max, going full throttle on your nub. “Say it.”

“This pussy is yours,” you cry, crystal streams clouding your vision and streaming down towards his arm.

“Not that,” he chokes through gritted teeth, trying to postpone his orgasm. Waiting for you to say the magic words and open Pandora’s box. “You, baby. Tell me that you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.”

“Yeah,” he nods, lips curling in as he bathes in your dripping cunt. His strokes become short and uneven as he reaches the point of no return. “I’m yours, too.”

The declaration of reciprocal affection and want fills your chest before shooting to your core. You cum together, sighing into each other's mouths as pure, intense bliss takes over every square inch of your body. Every cell tingles. You try to kiss, but the seal of your lips is broken by your needy cries. During the mutual orgasm, Jungkook trembles. Chest, legs, and arms all quivering in unison as he milks both of you dry. Painting your walls with warm, white spurts until he has nothing left to give. The Hitachi isn’t turned off until you beg.

Euphoria.

When you’re done, neither of you can bring yourself to disconnect. Sex left your sweaty bodies idle and fucked out, but the intimacy of it all kept you rooted in place. Airy kisses are planted on your shoulder. Light scratches outline his tattoos. His seed is hot inside you in the most disgustingly comfortable way. You don’t move for a while, laying in each other's aura until the rain clouds fade and the milky way can be seen by the naked eye. Twinkling lights of stars and headlights flicker against his skin as you count his breaths. They grow more steady as the minutes pass.

“I have a plan.”

Intrigued, you crane your neck, quirking a brow at the man behind you. “A plan?

Without warning, Jungkook expertly gets to his knees. Your ankles are hauled up by your head, manicured toes tickling his cotton pillowcase. Folded in half at the waist.

“Jungkook!”

“Bambi,” he huffs above you, softening cock still tucked inside of you. “Hold your legs for me.”

Oh. You know what he wants.

“Baby,” you giggle flirtatiously, hands curling under your thighs to keep them in place, “what are you doing?” He must want another round. Excitement bubbles in your squished chest and cramped stomach at the thought of having him twice in one night.

“If you stay like this, I should be able to run to the bathroom without getting cum on my bed.”

“Are you kidding me?” You spew in disbelief and disappointment.

“Baby, please,” he groans with pleading eyes. “It’ll take two seconds, I promise.”

“Fine,” you oblige with an overexaggerated pout, “but hurry. This hurts!”

With your permission, he scurries off into the bathroom. A light turns on and the faucet runs. He must be getting something to clean up with. Despite your best efforts, and the ache in your bent neck, his baby juice leaks out of you, cascading down your butt with impeccable speed.

“Jungkook, It’s dripping!”

The door slams against the wall with a loud thud as he bursts through, wet cloth in hand. A second too late. “No!” He sighs in annoyance, dropping to his knees on the mattress, angrily watching a fat white droplet splash onto his black comforter. “Really?”

“What was I supposed to do?” You shout back playfully. The whole situation was dumb and immature, but you can’t stop laughing. You cackle like a madwoman when he runs the damp towel through your folds. “‘M ticklish,” you respond dazily when he raises a brow at you. The giggles turn into a sharp hiss when he slowly removes the plug from your swollen hole.

“Does it hurt?” Jungkook coos, spreading your cheeks to get a better view of the slightly red, inflamed area.

“A little, but I’m okay. I promise.”

“Good,” he hums, smacking your ass, hinting that he wants you off the bed. “Go pee while I change the sheets.”

There’s a change in your appearance when you look in his bathroom mirror. The girl reflected, wearing her boyfriend’s black, pine-scented, oversized hoodie, seems… happy. She is happy. The resting bitch face that Mina often teased you for is completely gone. All you see is glowy skin, bright eyes, and puffy cheeks. A tiny hand comes up to massage them. Ow. They hurt from smiling so much. From laughing like a maniac. You’ve never seen yourself so lively. You’ve never felt so alive.

With a content sigh, you skip back into the bedroom.

Jungkook is already settled, snuggled under the clean bedding like a big baby. The sound of the door opening makes him jump, waking up from the two minute nap he accidentally fell into. Turning to you, he smiles lazily.

You’ll never get used to that face of his. That beautiful face.

“I’m knocked, Bambi,” he yawns, opening his big arms. “C’mere.”

Heart heavy with warmth, you climb between the sheets. You lay on your back, preparing for him to sink his head into your full breasts like feathered pillows. His favorite cuddle position.

“We never ate the pancakes,” you frown, noticing the plastic bags on his nightstand when you reach over, shutting his lamp off.

“‘S okay. We’ll eat ‘em in the morning.”

“Ew, Jungkook,” you scoff revoltingly. “They’ll be rotten by then.”

“You’re rotten but I still eat you.”

Hm. Touche.

“You know,” he lulls, lips smacking together. It’s a habit that only comes about when sleep clouds his mind. “I’ve had a crush on you since the day we met.”

“Liar,” you whisper with a smile, twirling the loose strands at the nape of his neck. Just the way he likes. “You called me a bitch, the day we met.”

“You’re so dramatic. I did not call you a bitch.” The way his tired, hooded eyes blare open at your false statement makes you laugh. “I said you were bitchy. There’s a difference.”

You recount the memory.

“You know what, I like you. You’re a little bitchy but-,” he slurred at the end of the night, helping you gather the discarded solo cups, "Also innocent. Kinda like a baby deer. What the fuck was that movie?”

“But underneath that attitude… I don’t know- There was just… something about you. Something special. And I knew that I could bring that side out of you, eventually."

“Bambi! Right… I can’t wait to ruin you.”

God, why are you so emotional today?

Tears pile into your waterline. They’re not from sadness or anger.

Laying in bed with Jungkook, who’s sighing peacefully as he drifts off to sleep, you can’t believe that this is your life.

After a few minutes of silence, you realize that there’s no way you’re following him into dreamland. You’re way too wired and ecstatic. Who could blame you?

“Jungkook,” you whisper.

No answer.

“Jungkook.”

A grunt of acknowledgment.

“Are you awake?”

“No…”

“But you just responded, though...”

Silence.

“Can we watch Sailor Moon?”

Crickets.

"Jungkook?"

“Baby!” He whines, high-pitched and huffy as he turns his head in frustration. “‘M sleepin’!’”

“Jeez,” you roll your eyes, still sluggishly playing with his dark ropes. “Someone’s grumpy…”

There’s another beat of silence before he speaks.

“Fine,” he groans dramatically, twisting back to his original position with a smushed frown against your boob. “I’ll watch one episode. One.”

You squeak excitedly, pecking the top of his head in appreciation, pulling out your phone and turning on your favorite series with glee. He puts up a good fight; loopily murmuring ‘wow’ and ‘no way’ whenever you share a little fun fact about the character lore. Halfway through, the sound of Usagi and Rei arguing is overtaken by Jungkook’s soft snores.

Soft for now. You know once he hits the REM phase, he’ll turn into a lawnmower.

With a defeated sigh, you close the streaming app and put your phone away, cuddling closer to your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend.

You're dying to finish the season. At this rate, it's going to take you guys forever to watch Sailor Moon in its entirety. But that’s okay, you suppose, because forever with Jungkook doesn’t sound that bad at all.

it's requited love yall :')

5K notes · View notes

mooshys · 4 years ago

Text

the silver lining of bad first dates

summary: a date gone wrong. a walk in the rain. a simple conversation in a ramen shop. mundane slice of life and mutual pining with kuroo.

word count: 2.1k

author’s note and warnings: curse words galore. set in time-skip. pure word vomit. kuroo’s one of those characters that I’m so scared to even consider writing for because I feel as though I’ll never truly be able to “get” his character. whatever though, I tried.

This date fucking sucked.

Point-blank. No sugarcoating because the dude sitting on the opposite side of the dinner table was more interested in the JASDAQ than your name. Seriously, he couldn’t even be bothered to listen to you talk about your alma mater before he swooped in and started blanketing his insecurities with his recent Bitcoin investment.

Talk about lame.

Wine and hors d’oeuvres be damned, you were making an escape before he started mansplaining the economy. Even wagyu couldn’t save this candlelit disaster.

Making no attempt to be discreet, you whipped your phone out of your bag and typed up a quick text:

Mind picking me up? Shitty date.

Ping!

Seriously? Again? What’d this guy do this time?

Ping!

Send the address

Ping!

I swear, this is the last time I’m picking you up

You smiled at the screen, thumbs moving fast.

That’s what you said last week

A bubble with three dots appeared, disappeared, and reappeared.

Ping!

Five minutes.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Like every cliché bad first date, the weather made sure to mimic the mood. The rainfall was nothing less than dreadful, a downpour that left the streets empty as most people kept indoors to avoid getting soaked.

“You’re so lucky that I didn’t have to work overtime tonight,” Kuroo began, standing close to you in an attempt to shield you both from the shower with his janky umbrella. “Otherwise, you’d be walking in the rain or sitting there having your dinner ruined from hearing that guy talk about his gains in the market.”

You laughed at the truth of his words. There really was no one else who knew you like Kuroo.

“And you know I would’ve walked in the rain out of the two options. I can’t believe someone so dick-ish exists that I’d bail out on a free meal,” you said, raising your voice over the heavy pelting.

Without any warning, a trio of college kids rushed past you two, not paying attention to the other pedestrians walking the sidewalks as their only priority in mind was making it back home before catching a cold. They had their backpacks held up to cover their heads, but it wasn’t much help as their clothes were completely soaked.

“See that?” Kuroo jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “You would’ve been running like those kids all the way back to your apartment if I didn’t show up.”

You lightly elbowed him and rolled your eyes. Rain fell on your shoulder from the sudden movement, but Kuroo repositioned the umbrella to prevent you from getting wet. “As if,” you murmured, hugging your body in an attempt to keep warm. “Thanks for picking me up. Again.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re oh so welcome,” he waved off your words and then cackled when you narrowed your eyes at him. Sometimes he really knew how to push your buttons. “Anyway, are you trying to date a bunch of crappy guys on purpose? Because I feel like that’s what you’re trying to do.”

“It’s not like I ask to go through a bunch of crappy first dates!” you said, letting out a huff of hot air. The past month had been riddled with unsuccessful first dates. Statistically speaking, you were an outlier; the average person probably went through a handful of bad first dates in a single year: you went through that number in a mere month. Multiple standard deviations past, you were way out of the norm. “Maybe I’m just a magnet for awful guys who only have a thing for themselves.”

Kuroo scoffed. “Or maybe you just like to make my life a little bit harder.”

You smiled at his words.

“Maybe.”

Besides the realization that you were like a honeytrap to flies when it came to bad first dates, another constant came from the start of it all: Kuroo. You weren’t expecting much from the first SOS call; really, just someone to walk you back home when it was late and the taxi fares were jacked up. But you would never forget the first time he waited for you outside that overhyped bar with a bag of take-out, his tie loosened and hair messy because he had just left the office and rushed to the nearest place that sold yakisoba for a decent price.

Maybe you did make his life a little bit harder. It was selfish, but whenever you had a bad date, you actually started to anticipate your escape because that meant Kuroo would be there for you.

He was your silver lining for the past month.

Red brick walls came into view once you two rounded the corner into a more secluded alley, revealing a familiar site that made you hungry. A neon sign which turned brighter due to the haze of the rain drew you in like a moth to a flame. It flickered, but still kept its light. Another constant.

Underneath the awning of the restaurant, Kuroo retracted his umbrella and shook the excess water off of it. He shoved it in the small bin filled with umbrellas belonging to the other patrons and dragged the soles of his shoes on the mat before pulling the door open.

“Let’s just get some ramen,” he said, ushering you inside. You took the first steps and situated yourself at a lone table. He followed and a waitress quickly took your orders, soon rushing back to the kitchen to help with the line of tickets pinned to the wall.

“Ramen on a rainy day,” you said, giving a low whistle. “You know your stuff.”

“Duh, ramen tastes best when you’re freezing,” he replied, pulling on his necktie to loosen it. He grabbed two pairs of chopsticks along with a pair of spoons, placing a set in front of you. “And it tastes pretty good after bad dates too.”

“You’re talking to the queen of bad first dates.”

“Oh, I’ve had my fair share too, Your Highness.”

As if on cue, two bowls of ramen were brought over from the kitchen along with an extra soft boiled egg as soon as he finished his sentence. The soup had small ringlets floating at the top from the fat of the broth along with bright green scallions acting as a garnish to offer a vibrant and appetizing color. Wasting no time, you both gave thanks and started to dig in.

“You know,” he started, breaking his chopsticks apart and dipping them into the broth. He pulled up a nice amount of noodles, the steam rising up higher than before. “I really think you should quit dating guys who suck.”

Following Kuroo, you did the same and blew at your noodles. “You say it like it’s easy.”

“It is. It’s so easy.” He ate a mouthful and swallowed before speaking again. “You have your top tier guys, your average guys, and then your totally shitty guys. I mean absolute trash—these are the guys you’re dating. Avoid them and all your problems will be solved.”

“Ugh, I feel like we go through this conversation after every single mishap of a date.”

Translation: Kuroo, you sound like my nagging mother.

“Because you never learn.”

Translation: I will nag at you all I want.

You sighed. “Love’s a lot more complicated than you make it.”

“Whatever. Just find a guy who isn’t an asswipe, and then we can talk.”

As you two continued to eat, the kitchen staff remained lively. The sounds of ceramic bowls clattering together along with the static hum of an old radio buzzing some city pop tune your mom would have listened to in her youth acted as background noise while chatting.

“So... what kind of guy do you think you are?” you asked, curious to hear his answer. Kuroo was in the middle of slurping his noodles and held a hand up to signal you to give him a second.

“Me?” He pointed at himself and you nodded. Who else would you be asking? “I’m your average guy.”

You frowned. “No way.”

“What, you think I’m an absolute trash kind of guy? Harsh.”

“No, I think you’re definitely top tier. Average guys don’t go out of their way to do stuff like this.”

Kuroo raised a brow at you and set his chopsticks down. His bowl was half finished, but he was more interested in what you had to say. “Stuff like what?”

“You know,” you motioned the space between you two, “doing this awful-first-date-rescue-at-the-drop-of-a-hat kind of stuff. No questions asked. Average guys don’t do that. Average guys just pay for your meal and maybe give you their jacket when it’s kind of cold. And sometimes they call you some gross pet name like...” You shivered at the thought. “Kitten or something.”

He looked slightly taken aback. “You don’t like being called kitten?”

“No, something about it sounds gross.”

“That’s just because you haven’t found the right guy to say it to you when—“

Not wanting to hear the rest of what he had to say, you quickly crumpled up a napkin into a ball and tossed it at him. He threw his head back, putting on an act as if you actually did any damage to him.

“Stop. Please. Enough. Don’t even finish what you’re going to say.” You went back to devouring your bowl, the noodles more soft than before. Still tasted great as you shoveled in mouthfuls. “I don’t wanf tew heur et!”

Sporting a disgusted look, Kuroo grabbed a few napkins from the dispenser and slid them to your side of the table. “Jeez, you eat like that whenever you’re on a date? Maybe I saved that guy from you.”

“Well, you’re the one stuck with all of this now,” you motioned a hand to your entirety and wiggled an eyebrow. “Consider yourself lucky.”

He held his chin in the palm of his hand and stared at you from across the table, eyes still holding a glint of amusement under the low lighting of the restaurant. His bowl was nearly finished, yet he focused his attention on you, allowing a small smile to grace his lips as he pondered your words.

You eyed him, his gaze feeling a bit different from before. “What are you doing?”

“Considering,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“...It shouldn’t take you that long to,” you mumbled and ate another mouthful of noodles. He kept at it and soon started to crack up. When you narrowed your eyes at him, he shook his head and pushed another pile of napkins your way.

“There’s a scallion at the corner of your lips,” he tapped a hand on his bottom lip and cackled when you rushed to grab a napkin and wipe it away. Heat rose to your face and you sucked on your teeth.

“You know what? Forget about me calling you a top tier guy. It never happened.”

He placed a hand over his heart, wounded by your words. “It was kitten, wasn’t it?”

Unable to contain yourself, you laughed into your hand, shoulders shaking. You had to set your chopsticks down as you fanned your face, trying to get rid of the tears threatening to spill from the corner of your eyes. “If I ever heard that from another guy, I would walk out. The second the word came out of his mouth, I would pack up my things, leave, and never look back.”

“But you’re not right now.”

“I’m not.”

“Because I’m a top tier guy. Admit it.”

Because it’s you.

You shook your head and waved the white flag. “Right, that’s exactly it.”

Kuroo crossed his arms in front of his chest, satisfied with your answer. Like he won something from this conversation. He liked the way your lips tugged into a smile, not too tight, but enough to showcase the apples of your cheeks; he liked these nights when he could unwind after a long day of work and laugh about stupid pet names; he loved how easy it all was.

Consideration done and over with, he went back to finish his bowl, the steam from the broth no longer visible to the naked eye.

“Eat up or it’ll get cold,” he said and sipped on the broth. It was still warm, much to his surprise. “I’ll walk you back home when we’re done.”

You took small bites, prolonging the meal in any way possible: listening to him talk about his lazy cubicle partner, ordering another side of gyoza, folding a napkin to tell him his fortune through grade school methods. Both your bowls were empty, pushed to the side with a sliver of broth left as the focus was neither the food nor the JASDAQ jerk from hours before, but rather mundane conversation that went in circles until the shop emptied out.

A hundred dates could go wrong only for Kuroo to show up and make things right.

Maybe it was time for him to become more than a silver lining.

#I had this in my drafts for 4 months and really could not bring myself to post it #like I absolutely despised it and would reread and edit it over and over again #and I kept this only because of the dialogue line with the top tier guys #Yeah Idk dude it's fine now but begone out of my drafts #kuroo #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #Ok I also feel like a reason why I *didn't* post this is cuz it's like... rlly different from what I usually post???#like this was so out of my comfort zone and I honestly feel a bit embarrassed sometimes when I write about ~love~ bc it's like. Ew Gross LOL #constant fear of it being too cheesy and unrealistic lmao

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ashdoesfandomarchieved · 3 years ago

Note

I’m bad at prompts but would love to see varian n Hugo talking abt. More serious things.. opening up tew eachother..angsty fluff

(MARTIE SAID ANGSTY FLUFF HERE U GO BOO <3)

ao3

It’s not like Varian to seek out Hugo.

Despite his initial decision to trust the lanky blond, Varian had his misgivings that were further solidified into annoyances as the other alchemist turned his smarmy act up a few notches into the irritating territory. Hardly a day could go by without Varian being shown up or talked down to by the guy--and always in the most condescending tone.

Today had, in fact, been one of those days--for the most part. Varian had been translating a rune-key to get into the magically sealed temple where Nuru’s next lead was and Hugo had sauntered right in, translated it in under ten minutes, and smugly lead the way in.

Varian kind of wanted to strangle him.

Through the power of Nuru’s glaring at him and Yong’s enthusiastic ramblings distracting him, Varian manges to not kill the latest addition to their group, but it’s only just.

They trek through the winding, stone corridors of the temple ruins, Varian taking notes and Yong excitedly chattering away to Nuru. But as the halls stretch on and don’t come to an end, Varian starts to think that maybe this particular lead was a bust.

Then, it’s too quiet.

Varian turns, about to ask Yong if he’s alright--the child’s murmurings had cut off abruptly mid-sentence--when he realizes that…

Nuru, Hugo and Yong are gone.

_____

Of course they weren’t really gone, Varian realizes lately--way later, after Hugo drags him out of the depths of the inky-black nightmare he was lost in. Nuru, patting his back as he coughs and dry heaves in the bright, afternoon light, quietly explains that the place had a curse on it.

“Nightmare cavern,” Yong says, the only one of them who had been unaffected and, subsequently, the person to get Nuru out who was then able to help Hugo break free.

And then Varian, because of course he was the one deepest in.

“If it makes you feel any better, Nuru started crying when I woke her up,” Yong offers, when Varian finally stops choking.

Nuru shoots him a glare. “Shut up.”

Yong holds his hands up defensively.

Varian tunes them out as the argument escalates. His mind is still focused on the nightmarish horrors he’d be subjected to back there.

Re-subjected to.

Hugo spends the rest of the day being very tentative to Varian. In turn, Varian doesn’t really know how to respond. His mildly antagonist relationship with the blond has him in a place where he doesn’t know how to respond to the sudden kindness.

Hence, why Varian is out in the middle of the night looking for Hugo, who hasn’t been seen since supper.

After wandering around the mostly quiet town for the better part of an hour, he finds the blond, sitting on a slanted rooftop above the town’s apothecary. With a sigh, Varian clumsy climbs up the side of the building, finding his footing in loose bricks and the uneven trimming on the side. It’s nowhere near as graceful as he’d like, considering he almost brains his head on the side of the roof before he even gets on it.

“Hey,” Varian says, once he’s safe on top. He carefully picks his way across the slanted roofing to where Hugo is reclining, arms folded under his head. He glances up in surprise when he hears Varian, eyes unreadable.

“Hey.” His voice is unusually gruff.

Varian settles beside him, stomach dropping when he glances over the edge. Varian’s not one to be nervous around heights, but they are really high up and he doesn’t exactly trust Hugo to catch him.

Maybe.

Hugo had gotten him out of--wherever the hell that place had taken him to. No matter his feelings toward the guy’s general attitude or how much of an arrogant dick he can be, Varian has to give him that.

He could have very easily left him there. But he didn’t, which raises Varian’s opinion of him by a fraction.

A breeze shifts through the town, cutting straight through Varian and his thin jacket. He shivers, wrapping his arms around himself tightly.

It’s a clear autumn night. They’re far enough away from the big cities that Varian can make out the stars, for once. The sky looks different than in Corona--further implementing the realization just how far from home they are.

Well, Varian at least. He’s still not exactly sure where Hugo’s home is. If he has a home.

Something sour settles in the pit of his stomach at the thought.

“Nice view,” he says, instead of voicing any of his many thoughts.

Hugo hums, giving Varian a side-long glance. There’s something heavy in his eyes. “I guess,” is all he says, noncommittally.

Varian picks at one of his nails. “The constellations are different here than at home.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmm-hmm. See that one?” Varian points to a cluster of four stars that don’t quite form a straight line. “Should be curved. In Corona at least,” he adds. He doesn’t ask what the constellations look like where Hugo’s from.

Hugo wouldn’t tell him anyway, he’s pretty sure.

The blond isn’t looking where Varian pointed, however. His eyes are firmly glued to the side of Varian’s head. Varian doesn’t want to meet that gaze for some reason, which is ridiculous, right? He, after all, followed Hugo all the way up here, initiated a mindless conversation that Hugo clearly didn’t want to have.

Varian drops his head back against the rooftop and tries not to sigh.

Then,

“Do any of the constellations look the same?” Hugo asks, softly.

Varian bites his lip. “That one does,” he says, pointing to the string of stars in the shape of a shrimp that Eugene crudely dubbed erecticous constellationous. Hugo doesn’t need to know that though. “And, that one,” he adds, pointing to the stars that form a familiar shape. Only a few stars in them were out of alignment, but it was close enough that Varian could pick it out. “The golden flower.”

Hugo glances up at the constellation. “Is there a story behind it?”

“Probably,” Varian shrugs. “Rapunzel never got around to telling me, though, and my dad wasn’t really one for stories. Just knowing how to find the north star.”

“Well, make one up then,” Hugo says. Varian can hear the grin in his voice and rolls his eyes.

“I’m not making up a story about a flower, Hugo.”

“Why, not manly enough for you?”

Varian considers pushing him off the roof for a moment. “No, just enough stories about magic golden flowers for one lifetime,” he says, before thinking better of it.

Hugo lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Get those often?”

“You have no idea.”

A pause, as Hugo waits. “You aren’t going to tell me.”

Varian considers it. “I don’t think you’d believe me,” he says, honestly.

Hugo knocks his shoulder into Varian’s. “Try me, Goggles.”

Varian huffs, sitting up slightly and drawing his legs up to his chest. He wraps his arms around them and drops his chin onto his knees. “You ever hear the story of the sundrop?”

“Something of it,” Hugo says casually. “Magic sun spit falls from the sky, infects flower, somehow gets transferred to magic princess. Coronian story, if I’m right.”

“Yep. Would you believe me if I told you it was real?”

“Varian, we just walked through a hall of mirrors that trapped us in our worst fears. Yong has sentient firecrackers and you can create every kind of cure known to man through the power of science” There’s a pause. “Yeah, I think I can believe that’s real.”

Varian snorts. “Yeah okay. I do really know the-” he wrinkles his nose, “-magic princess.”

“Was she pretty?” Hugo grins.

“She is my sister, thank you very much,” Varian sniffs, not really linking the idea of Hugo being attracted to Rapunzel in any sense. That would be weird, but Varian can’t really pin his finger on why.

Hugo blinks in surprise. “Wait, really? I thought you were like,” he gestures vaguely with one hand, “an only child. You have those vibes.”

Varian has many things to say to that, but he refrains. “Yeah, well, not all family is through blood,” he settles on, instead of picking a fight.

Hugo twitches, something unpleasant darkening in his gaze. He turns his gaze back to the sky. “Can I ask you something?” he asks, after a few seconds of silence.

“Just did,” Varian instantly replies, earning a light snort from his blond companion.

“Varian.”

“Yeah, yeah, ask away.”

“What happened to you out there?” Hugo says, unknowingly asking the one question Varian has been trying to avoid all evening.

Varian’s heart sinks, his good mood plummeting below the rooftop. He shuts his eyes. “Like you said, hall of mirrors with bad memories.”

“Yeah.” Hugo’s voice is soft. And closer. Varian can feel his shoulder and thigh pressing into his own. “Yeah, I just-you didn’t look so good when you came out.”

Varian lets his legs drop over the edge of the roof as he flops onto his back. The stars stare down at him silently. It’s a familiar view--one that he saw many times through the tiny window in his prison cell.

It’s not exactly comforting most of the time.

Varian throws an arm over his eyes. Huffs loudly into the quiet night. “My dad died when I was fourteen,” he says.

He feels Hugo still next to him.

Varian drops his arm. The moon, phased into a sliver tonight, seems to grin down at him. “It was my fault,” Varian goes on, eyes glued to the white splinter in the sky, “and we-we fixed it, he’s fine now. But. Yeah.”

His eyes cut to Hugo.

Hugo is staring down at him. His eyes are wide and filled with an unreadable emotion. He visibly swallows, eyes darting between Varian’s.

“It wasn’t a great time for me.”

Hugo exhales. Lies down flat against the roof, shoulder to shoulder with Varian. “I don’t remember my dad,” he says, quietly.

Varian stays very still, intensely aware that whatever’s happening right now is not likely to happen again.

“I remember my mom though,” he continues. Varian glances at him, his profile only visible in the dim light. Varian can’t tell what expression he’s wearing, can only guess through the intonation of his voice. “She used to sing to me, I think. And she had brown eyes.”

Varian shifts closer. His head is almost on Hugo’s shoulder. Almost.

“My mom was an alchemist,” Varian says, like it isn’t obvious.

“Yeah, I kinda figured that one, blue eyes,” Hugo says, rolling his green ones. “Do you remember her?”

Varian shakes his head. “No, I was too little when she--yeah.”

“Yeah.”

The two of them lie there in silence.

“Hey, Hugo,” Varian says. The warmth emanating from the other boy is both comforting and anxiety inducing. He’s still trying to pinpoint why, but can’t come up with a conclusive answer.

“Hmm?” the other boy tilts his head in Varian’s direction.

Varian could easily get lost in the brilliant green eyes.

“Thanks for getting me out,” he says, instead of something like your eyes are pretty or I want to touch your hair.

Hugo’s face does something complicated. “Yeah, well. Nuru would have killed me if I left you there.” A pause. “Besides,” he mutters, “you would have done the same for me.”

Accurate assessment, Varian ruefully agrees. Hugo might annoy the ever living shit out of him, but he wouldn’t hesitate to pull the other boy out of danger.

“Still,” he says.

“Well. You’re welcome then,” Hugo says awkwardly, looking anywhere but Varian. If he didn’t know any better, Varian would say Hugo looks a bit guilty, but he can’t figure out why for the life of him.

There’s a pause that’s far too charged that has Varian very aware of how closely they’re pressed together.

“Tell me more about the stars,” Hugo blurts out, just as the silence becomes too much.

The twisting in Varian’s chest releases. “Well, that one’s the cat’s eye,” he says, pointing out a triangle of stars directly above him.

Hugo’s eyes follow where his finger is pointing. As Varian continues to point at various stars and constellations, the tension between the two evaporates. But with Hugo’s warm breath puffing almost against Varian’s ear and the sound of his laughter when he says something particularly witty, the strange fluttering in Varian’s stomach gets worse.

He ignores it.

It probably means nothing.

#varigo #varian #hugo vat7k #nuru vat7k #yong vat7k #my fanfic #my fic #vat7k fanfic #writing prompts

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hawkinsindiana · 5 years ago

Text

i should go

ALMOST PARADISE: PART TWO - CHAPTER FOURTEEN OF FIFTEEN

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader

word count: 2.5k

a/n: these are scary and confusing times. so here ya go. i hope everyone’s staying safe and healthy, i love you all <3

masterlist

You don’t know why you thought things were going to get better. You should’ve known better; you’ve never been able to catch a break, even before all of this happened.

The dreams have been getting worse, and more frequent; now, they’re about the kids too. You’ll be back in those tunnels, the ones crawling with vines, and their voices will bounce against the walls. They’re calling out, desperately crying for you to help them, but they’re never found.

It feels like you run in circles for hours on end, throat going hoarse from screaming their names until you wake, pebbles of sweat dripping from your brow and body frozen in terror.

Those seem to scare you more - the ones about them. Because it’s your duty to protect them, and you’ve come so close to failing so many times.

Those ones never let you sleep; you’re left to lie there until morning, fear bubbling inside that something’s happened while you were asleep, thinking they’re gone now and there’s nothing you could’ve done.

Your brother hears it every time. When your careful footsteps approach his door at those ungodly hours, and the door creaks open just a touch so you can quiet your restless mind; Dustin’s always there, safe and sound underneath the sheets, Tews tucked against his feet.

You’ve done that six times now - he figures he should ask what that’s about. Maybe he’ll bring it up to Steve, see if the older boy knows anything.

But with the town buzzing with holiday cheer, they’ve barely seen you around. Extra shifts at Radio Shack have filled your schedule as the people of Hawkins flock downtown for gifts, especially now that Bob’s no longer there for his usual hours.

Dustin thinks you should take a break while you’re off from school. He can tell that it’s exhausting when you come home and don’t have the energy to return Steve’s call, but you always have the same answer:

“I need to keep myself busy anyways.”

And Steve - he understands the circumstances. But that doesn’t make it hurt less when Dustin has to deflect and apologize on your behalf.

God, you hope it’s not too much on him-

Your mother snaps you from your trance, tapping the phone against your arm before placing it in your hand, “It’s for you.”

You hadn’t even heard it ring. You don’t know how long you’ve been standing here, shoulder pressed to the wall and eyes focused on the evening news.

You answer it with a sigh, “Yeah?” A perky voice flows easily through the receiver, unfazed by your delivery.

“Hey, it’s Stacy, from the dance committee? We’ve got an emergency over here.”

Mike and Lucas thought it might be a good idea for you to help organize and plan the Snow Ball. Since the group of middle schoolers would be attending this year, they wanted your help to ensure that it was the best one thrown yet. You weren’t so keen on the idea, until you remembered how lame it was a few years back when you went.

“I don’t have to come down there, do I? I thought we took care of everything last night.”

The girl nervously laughs on the other end; you can hear the music from the gym echoing in the room. It almost makes it hard to listen.

“Turns out we need three more bottles of soda. Simon only got five. Since you’re the only one with a car-”

“Yeah, of course,” You interrupt, “I’ll grab some and bring it over. Be there in a jif.”

After ending the call, you grab your cash off the counter on your way to the bathroom.

“Hey Dustin, I gotta bolt. Can you find-”

You’re greeted with the sight of your brother, putting the finishing touches on his look for the night - a can of Farrah Fawcett hairspray in one hand. You can’t help the laugh that bursts from you.

“What, Mom buy you that?”

His head snaps to you in an instant, cheeks turning bright red as you lean your weight against the doorframe. The product’s out of sight immediately afterwards, quickly shoved behind his back, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Dustin swallows harshly at your squinting eyes, arms folding over your chest as you study him. You decide not to ask.

“Uh huh.”

A few tense, silent moments pass as he waits for you to comment further; he hates that smirk on your face, “Did you, uh, need something?”

You clear your throat, shifting on your feet before replying, “Yeah I gotta get to the school now, can you find another ride? Maybe Mrs. Wheeler can come take you?”

Dustin’s expression grows confused, “What are you talking about? I already have a ride.”

Your brow raises in surprise, “You do.”

He shrugs, “Yeah, Steve’s takin’ me.”

And then it clicks; your grin grows.

“Oh… okay. I’ll see you afterwards then,” You go to grab the door on your way out, but not before adding something else with a wink.

“Don’t worry,” You say, “I won’t tell anyone. And keep this open a touch, yeah? I’d hate for you to suffocate on the fumes.”

—

The gym’s loud and filled with prepubescent teenagers. You can’t wait to get out of here, back to the comforting security of your home.

That feeling intensifies when you lock eyes with who’s standing behind the punch bowl; you already feel yourself retracting inwards before a conversation even begins.

“I didn’t realize you were coming tonight,” Nancy speaks first, letting a small smile spread over her face as you approach the beverage station.

She seems so much lighter, so much happier since you last saw her. You’re glad that she’s been able to finally move on, even if it is at Steve’s expense. Nobody deserves to be trapped in a relationship they don’t want to be in; you can’t blame her for that. You just wish it hadn’t happened the way it did.

“Oh, I’m not,” You answer, gesturing to the liters of soda you carry in your arms; they’ve started to grow tired from the weight, “I’m just dropping these off.”

Nancy’s expression drops a touch as you place the bottles on the bleachers behind her, “I figured you’d be bringing your brother.”

You brush the condensation off onto your jeans, “No, uh, Steve did that already.”

Confusion is evident as she grows speechless, turning back to face you; the expression she has on her face is enough to explain her emotions - that doesn’t seem like something he’d do.

You laugh at her, “Yeah, I know. Trust me, no one’s more shocked than I am.”

Nancy shakes her head in awe as your back straightens, and she chews on her lip as she debates bringing it up. She decides to.

“Remember when we came to this thing?”

Your eyes move to see her, leaning back against the table, knuckles turning white as she grips the edge. A scoff escapes your mouth as you nod, “How could I forget? Jimmy Hawthorne spilled punch all over my dress twenty minutes in.”

Nancy laughs at the memory, remembering the priceless look on his face as you threatened him, right in the middle of the dance floor, “God, it took my mom all night to get that stain out.”

The silence between you that follows her comment isn’t… uncomfortable. If anything, it’s another step in the right direction. But you still chose to retreat; it’s almost too much, seeing her look at you like that again.

“I guess I’ll see you around, Nance,” You mutter before moving past her, jingling the car keys in between your fingers. All she musters back in response is a wave as she’s swarmed by an incoming gaggle of girls.

The cold air invigorates you as you exit the school building; you don’t know how much longer you could’ve been cooped up in there, surrounded by all the memories. And as you’re making your way to your mother’s car, that’s when you spot him.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” You raise your voice while you approach, arms crossing over your chest. Steve’s attention is brought up to see you, walking across the parking lot, a lazy smile growing over your rosy cheeks.

“I could ask you the same thing, Henderson,” The corner of Steve’s mouth quirks up as your brow raises at his response, “I asked you first.”

He sighs before running the hem of his sweater between his fingers, “Oh, I figured I should stick around just in case. You never know...”

You snort lightly after Steve allows his sentence to trail off, “Jesus, you’re starting to sound like me. I’m supposed to be the protective one.”

“There are worse things to be,” Steve’s focus is gentle as he watches you come to his side; he’s appreciating every single little detail about this moment.

The snow is just right - there’s enough of it to create a picturesque scene around you. The muffled love ballads that echo from the school make him feel warm in his chest - he thinks about you when he hears them. The streetlights illuminate your face enough for him to notice when the bridge of your nose scrunches at his words, “Aw, I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“The kids,” You nudge Steve before your gaze drifts to him; your heart skips when you catch him already peering your way, “They’re making you soft, Steven.”

Steve’s grin spreads wider as your laugh fills the space between, rolling his eyes as he falsely acts annoyed by your observation, “Great, just what I need.”

“Oh, also,” Your tone makes him meet your mischievous look, and it ignites a bit of anxiety in him, “Farrah Fawcett, really? You thought I wouldn’t figure that one out?”

Steve grows shocked by your deduction in record time, further spurring on your joy; it almost counter-balances his embarrassment.

“Relax, your secret’s safe with me,” You say, and Steve just shakes his head, “You and your brother are so dead if anyone finds out.”

You bring your fingers to your lips, faking to lock them before throwing the invisible key over your shoulder. And then it hits him - he hasn’t seen you since that night, after the funeral. That night where you almost kissed him.

”Why aren’t you in your car?”

Your words catch him off guard, and he simply shrugs in response, “The snow’s nice, dontcha think?”

“I guess, but Christ, aren’t you cold?” You ask Steve as you shiver and pull your hooded sweatshirt tighter against your frame.

He inhales before going to answer, but he decides that his words aren’t enough. His arm gets extended outwards before he gestures for you to move closer, “Come on, get over here.”

You feel your heart beat in your throat as a misty breath expels itself from you and into the night sky. It’s almost like the air gets thicker the closer you get to Steve, but you can’t stop yourself from tucking your body into his side.

His arm drapes heavily over your shoulder as soon as you’ve settled, and you decide to pull him closer with the limb that would’ve gotten trapped between you. Steve emits a light laugh at the feeling of your arm wrapping around his middle, tugging him in further; you both relish in the heat that emanates from the other.

A few silent moments pass - neither of you has the courage to comment, even though both of your minds are running wild with what to say.

Steve shifts beside you, adjusting his feet against the parking lot pavement. The action prompts you to spin your focus in his direction and you freeze as he does the same - his eyes landing on your gentle expression.

Seeing Steve look at you like that makes you feel like you’re floating - the admiration in his eyes is enough to silence any doubts you had about… well, whatever this is. Your heart thuds against your ribs when he somehow inches even closer and you tighten your hold on him after he does so, hand curling around the material of his sweater.

You want to pull your gaze away from him, because fuck it’s getting to be too much; the way he feels by you side, the way you slid into him to protect yourself from the chilly December evening, the way that neither of you can find any words to describe how you’re feeling.

But then it clicks inside your brains. And maybe, you think, nothing needs to be said at all.

You lean in first, and it doesn’t take Steve much longer to react and do the same. He grows surprised when you pause, mere millimeters away from meeting your lips, brow creasing as your nose brushes his.

Even though you’ve been craving this very moment for about a year, you can’t shake the thought that hovers like a cloud over your psyche. This changes everything. There’s no going back if you continue down this road - it almost makes you afraid, no matter how much you’ve wanted things to be different.

It dissipates quickly, as Steve doesn’t give you much time to ponder; he takes the leap. His lips are pressed to yours. And it’s just like the first time you fell for him - every doubt you’ve ever had about Steve vanishes instantly.

The kiss is so soft and so filled with emotion that you feel like you could cry. His presence is overwhelming your senses and you melt against his palm that slides up your jaw, past where the bruises faded.

You can’t process when your fingers begin to card through his hair, pulling him closer to you because you’re desperate to let him feel everything that’s been churning inside for over a year. You’re still so in love with him that when he finally pulls away, you feel like he took a piece of you with him.

The music starts to fade and your little bubble along with it; you struggle to find something to say.

You don’t know how long you’ve waited to be able to do that. None of your daydreams could have ever compared to this; you’re almost lost in the moment. All of that heartache, all of that pain - it’s finally been released.

Neither of you knows what to do.

But then Steve clears his throat, his thoughts jumbled inside his head because holy shit - he wasn’t expecting it to feel like that.

The silence afterwards is deafening. Your breaths fan against the other’s rose tinted cheeks, still barely inches apart.

“I should uh,” You mutter, fingers trailing down his arms, slowly pulling yourself away from his warmth. You’re suddenly overwhelmed with far too many emotions, all of which you can’t even begin to decipher while standing here in front of him.

Steve grips your hands in his as you lean back; he knows what you’re going to say, but God, he wishes that you didn’t have to.

“I should go,” You finish. It shatters his heart a bit to hear you say it, but he only nods.

“Yeah,” He manages, “I’m sure your mom wants you back.”

You swallow harshly before your touch leaves him completely. Steve can still feel where your fingers were pressed on his palms - it lingers as you turn to leave, and begin your walk to your car.

—

taglist: @stevebabey / @mrs-skywalker / @hannarudick / @crazycookiecrumbles / @hellisateenageheather / @alewifex / @l0ve-0f-my-life / @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 / @daddystevee / @thecaptainsgingersnap / @let-the-imaginationflow / @asianravenpuff / @im-a-stranger-thing / @mikariell95 / @pilunb / @harringtherin / @royalestrellas / @ultrunning / @buggs177 / @poutfull / @yoheyyosup / @duchessdaisybat / @janieavalos / @sassisaluxury / @beththebubbly / @i-bitch-you-bitch / @captainstilinskis / @juliebean247 / @im-nada / @whatabeautifulsurrender / @rexorangecouny / @pass-me-jeez-it / @ahoy-scoops-troop / @halefirewarrior / @jointhehunt67 / @wallacetdog / @ketchuplukehemmo / @m-a-r-i-n-t-p / @fangirl485 / @emmegirl827 / @lookalivesunshine-x / @elite4cekalyma / @marjoherbo / @just-my-fandom / @idumpyourgrass / @alafolieee / @mochminnie / @phantomalchemist / @dustyblueboo / @alonewolfsblog / @ggclarissa / @hufflepuffing-all-day-long / @bippityboppitybabe

if you wanna be added to the taglist, just lemme know!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #st fic #st imagine #my gif #my writing #almost paradise

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years ago

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Holo... Numver 60 with namjoon? Hope your writers block will go away soon! Have a nice day. Bye~~

premise: “you look like you could use a hug.” genre: fluff, canon compliant?? || wc: 1K+ a/n: i told myself i’d never write reader insert canon compliant fics but yenno... might as well try everything once?? idk it’s 4am i haven’t slept in 24 hours rip

Namjoon’s brain feels like it’s going to explode. No, scratch that—the tense is wrong. Namjoon’s brain felt like it already exploded.

His studio looks like a set for a WWII movie. Scraps of paper everywhere— balled up or otherwise, 20% of which were filled with rejected lyrics and 80% of which were finished sudoku puzzles. Take-out boxes, half-empty iced americano cups, his laundry from three days ago when he had showered at the office: he felt like he’s swimming in his own filth and failure.

This is not unexpected: The toil and trouble of pre-comeback season means more hours spent staring at a blank screen than anything remotely enjoyable for Namjoon. The bags under his eyes could very well be designer, and Namjoon contemplates selling them to a crazed hipster fashionista (read: Hoseok) for OOTD inspo, but he wouldn’t even make it two steps out his door without collapsing, so that plan is buried and gone. He could, instead, maybe order more jjajangyeon for a snack. It’ll be his fifth snack within the last six hours, but whatever. That, he supposes, is something he could accomplish at the very least.

This is not expected: It is 4 in the morning, and the last thing he expects is for a knock to come from outside his door.

It takes too long for Namjoon to respond, mostly because his fatigued brain mistakes the rhythm for one of his samples from two days ago. Also, he’s really lazy right now and he desperately hopes that whoever is behind the door would go away and leave him and his suffering artist self alone.

“Please don’t come in. I want to die alone, please,” he pleads. “Let me enjoy my lacklustre melodies and limp beats for another hour at least.”

But of course, the universe refuses to listen. Or rather, you refuse to listen.

“Kim Namjoon, this is an intervention,” you greet, the door opening with a bang when you finally manage to pick it open. You brandish your bobby pin with a smirk, much like how a heroine might wield her sword to face a dragon to save her one true love, which in this case was a semi-incoherent boy shaped like a ball of anxiety.

Namjoon glowers at the pathetic excuse for a lock his studio has, once again wondering why Yoongi-hyung had managed to persuade their manager to install a hi-tech number pad for him. Curse you and your lock-picking skills.

“I’ve come to get your ass to bed! A real bed, by the way. Not this stupid couch you bought for 10 million won from an artisan furniture maker,” you huff. "Girlfriend’s orders!”

“Y/N,” he sighs, slumping onto his desk. He hits his head accidentally, but he’s too fuzzy to even notice the growing lump on his forehead. “I am going to turn into dust soon. There would be nothing left of me to bring to bed. Leave me here to join my deceased creativity.”

“I could always borrow a broom from one of the janitors,” you shrug, skipping over to him. You poke him in the side boob. He wiggles for a moment, but not as much as you had hoped. “Earth to Joonie? You in there bud? Marco?”

He can feel your gaze burn the back of his neck, but his head feels to heavy to move and face you. “Polo,” he manages to mumble back. He can feel himself drooling onto the table, but he can’t bring himself to care. He knows he’s being a giant baby about this, so he might as well act like one. “No, I am not in here. I am everywhere. I feel like Scarlett Johansson in that Lucy movie. Like I’ve unlocked 100% of my brain and I’m traversing through space and time.”

You nudge him gently to his side so that he wouldn’t suffocate himself to death. He takes a deep breath, humming thankfully. “I highly doubt that, because if you did, then you would have finished this album weeks ago.”

“That’s harsh, buddy,” he pouts, glaring at you. Which normally wouldn’t be effective anyway since he’s as intimidating as a newborn panda, but it’s even worse now that he looks the part, too.

“Buddy? Geez, didn’t know you were getting this bad if I got demoted from girlfriend to buddy,” you snort. You begin plucking off the trash from his desk, whistling both in horror and admiration at the sizeable spill that had somehow solidified into a large hulking mass beside his keyboard. “Joonie, I know you’ve been holed up in here for a minute, but I sincerely hope for my sanity that the white stains are from carbonara sauce and not something else.”

“I honestly don’t know, and I don’t feel like lying if I knew anyway,” he sighs. He begins the torturous motion to straighten his back, his spine popping like an EDM beat. He melts back into his backrest, looking up at you with sad, tired eyes. “Help me?” he whines, lower lip wobbling for extra effect.

You roll your eyes, but the smirk on your face tells him that you’re amused and not actually annoyed. He’s normally not this dramatic, and you both know it. Perhaps he’s been spending too much time with Seokjin lately, or more likely, it’s you who has been spending too much time with his hyung, and indirectly rubbing off on him in the process.

“Need me to call an ambulance? Get you a wheelchair? Subscribe you to Life Alert?” you ask.

“No, I’m good. Just gimme a moment to... recalibrate,” he says, closing his eyes. Wow, have his eyelids always been this heavy? Maybe he could doze off a little and you wouldn’t notice...

“Namjoon, you’re snoring. Wake up,” you lie, but time doesn’t feel real to Namjoon right now, so he could have fallen asleep for ten days and wouldn’t have known either way. You gently cradle his cheeks, massaging his face into weird positions for your own amusement. Then, “Okay, buddy. I’m gonna lift you now.”

“You can’t,” he mumbles sleepily. You push his cheeks together until he looks like a puffy goldfish. “Yow a toofpick compawed tew me.”

“True,” you hum, but your arms are already wrapping around him. He sags into your touch immediately, only just realizing how much he misses this, misses you. Misses human connection, and not just his hand cranking his junk. He nuzzles into your neck, sighing in relief.

“This is an excuse to hug me, isn’t it?” he says, but he doesn’t make a move to pull away. Neither do you, queen that you are.

“You just looked like you could use a hug,” you say, rubbing his back. He smiles into your skin, kissing you chastely there.

“Thank you, my love. I kinda needed that,” he yawns, pulling away far enough to kiss you properly on the lips. “Love you, Y/N.”

“Love you too buddy,” you smile, pinching him lightly on the cheek. “C’mon. Let’s get your tired bones to a bed.”

#and then namjoon sleeps for 24 hours #then they fuck #then he returns to his studio and writes the best album of the century #anyway stream dynamite as a virtual hug for namjoon #t:unlisted #giantmuschroom #answered

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onedoesnotsimplywriteafanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Reunited at last (5/6)

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4

After exploring the old ruins that was were streets. It was a long lost dream to find this place and here I was. I wasn’t suppose be there on the hill of the mountain, but I was. Rafe had yet another meeting with Nadine and her men and he didn’t want me their, with the excuse it was way to boring for me and I could use that time exploring the building. So that was what I did. I explored and figured it all out.

Walking trough history, thats how it felt. Everything was just like it had been left behind after what looked like a huge fight, some could call it a war. Bodies where spread over the clearing, canons, weapons and barricades could be found. It was unclear who’s battle it was and what they where fighting for.

Making my way inside the bloodshed had continued, who ever the battle was between had made their way inside. Big golden looking doors, three times bigger than that I was, kept me from entering, what I only believed to be, the treasure room. A lever on my left was my way in. I pulled it towards me and a heavy mechanism could be heard starting to work.

Only it was for a little while before it stopped, doors still closed. With a groan I walked over to the door and pushed it with all my wight. It took a lot of effort but I manged to open the doors by force. My believes where right, this room used to be a treasure or trophy room, only this one was empty.

It was hard to imagine what had taken place hundred years ago but I had my ideas. By the looks of the state this room was left in, Avery had already taking his treasure elsewhere. Along the walls almost life sized paintings hung portraying the pirates. Avery, Tew all the founders of Libertalia.

They were all marked with the word ‘’Thief’’ meaning the treasure was already gone by the time the citizens had fought their ways in. Looking around the room for further clues I found the last peace of the puzzle. It was so small most would have missed it, but not me.

A map was painted on the sealing, it was barely visible because most of the roof was missing. But it was there. It showed a small town named ‘’New Devon’’ inhabited by seven large mansions. One for each pirate of Avery’s crew.

Smiling to myself, proud of my findings, I found myself calling for Nate. ‘’Nate, I figur,-’’ I cut my self off mid sentence, realizing Nate wasn’t here. In that moment of happiness I longed for my best friend. I should have been here with them, with Nate and my father.

Gunshots pulled me back to reality. It sounded far away but not the less it caught my attention. In a haze I looked for a way out. It took me way more time then I had anticipated and by the time I found a way outside the sound of a gun fight had stopped.

Now standing on top of a watch tower I looked around in the hope to locate the source of the fight. But what I found was more disturbing. Shoreline men filled my few, weapons drawn. Panic filled my body and the only thing on my mind was that I needed to get the hell out of here.

Making my way down was difficult because the tower was about to collapse. Running as fast as my legs could carry me I made my way down. Just before the tower collapsed I jumped to the roof of a nearby building.

My body wasn’t used to these kinds of shenanigans any more, so the safest way was the ground. No more jumping buildings. More shots filled the air and sometimes I needed to duck to prevend myself from getting shot.

In the distance I saw Rafe running inside a gave with some of the Shoreline soldiers. I followed him and waited till I got close to make my presence known. I ran out to a small clearing leading to a ravine. ‘’Rafe!’’ I called out. All eyes where now on me and so were most of there guns. ‘’Rafe?’’ I called out again, this time with my hands in the air.

Looking around the group I saw Nate and Nadine who was held captive by someone I couldn't see its face of. The man holding Nadine shifted slightly in its place making it able for me to see his face. My eyes grew bigger from confusion. ‘’Sam?’’ My voice was shaking, my mind making over hours. ‘’I told you to stay away.’’ Rafe spatted at me. A low growl could be heard leaving Sams throat.

Snapping my attention to Rafe I spat back at him. ‘’Excuse me?’’ I was still being hold at gun point but I ignored them. With anger in his eyes Rafe took a step towards me. Trying to hold my ground I stayed put. Locking my eyes with his I looked for answers. ‘’You knew, didn’t you.’’ I asked bluntly not giving him time to talk. ‘’You knew, all this time he was alive?!’’ I felt a white rage burning in my stomach and my anger got the best of me.

Waiting for him to confirm my theory I kept my eyes locked on his. ‘’Of course, who else did you thought broke him out for a second time.’’ Without thinking I swing my arm back and connected it with his jaw. Through the force of the impact Rafe stumbled back. By only one sign, one of the Shoreline soldiers grabbed me and put his gun to my temple.

The safety of a gun being pulled back could be heard, coming from Sam, still holding Nadine. ‘’Let her go Sam, or she dies.’’ pointing at me Rafe kept his vision at Sam. ‘’No.’’ Sam said trough gridded teeth. ‘’Don’t make me ask again, sam.’’ A threatening hint was visible in his voice.

Nate who kept watching until now made a move no one expected. It all happened in a second. Nate moved towards his brother and unarmed him so Nadine could step free. ‘’Now let her go, Rafe.’’ Nate said trowing the gun away. ‘’I can’t quite do that yet, Nathen. I still need her.’’ Anger kept boiling up inside of me.

I lowered my head towards my chest before I yanked it back, making contact with the nose of my captor. He let me go to grab his now bloody now. Kicking the gun out of his hand sending it flying. ‘’I am done helping you, Rafe.’’ I spat my words out, filled with poison.

A cynical laugh left his lips. ‘’I don’t think so princess. You and your not so dead boyfriend over there are going to lead me to Avery’s treasure.’’ With his pistol raised at Sam, he shot daggers at me. ‘’To bad I don’t know where it is.’’ I lied, shrugging my shoulders nonchalantly.

He wasn’t to happy with my answer. ‘’Then you better figure it out, fast, or els.’’ He threatened me. ‘’Please, I am sure we can figure something out, make a deal, find it together.’’ it was Nate he broke the silence. ‘’There is nothing to figure out. I only need one or two of you.’’ His gun shifted from Sam to Nate. ‘’No!’’ Sam and I yelled in unison. But it was to late, Rafe had pulled the trigger.

Sam jumped in front of Nate to take the bullet but it hit him in the shoulder. It was a trough and trough and it launched itself in Nate, who fell backwards to the edge, eventually falling over leaping to his faith.

The build up anger that i’ve been collecting inside bursted, I launched myself towards Rafe. One of the Shoreline men grabbed me but without luck. In a second I had disarmed him and held him under gunpoint with his own gun. ‘’Tell your men to stand down and no one gets hurt.’’ I threw a quick glance at Rafe. ‘’And who is going to hurt them, you?’’ wrong answer.

Pulling the safety back and pulled the trigger I shot the man in his back. Dead. ‘’Yes, me.’’ with an empty look in my eyes I looked at Rafe. Sam watched me from his position on the ground. An amused and proud look spread across his lips.

A vein on Rafe’s forehead was about to burst so much anger was he carrying. ‘’Maybe I only need one of you.’’ Rafe said coldly and pulled the trigger. The bulled embedded itself in my torso, falling to the ground immediately. Faintly in the distance I could hear Sam’s voice but I couldn’t figure out what he was saying.

One by one Rafe and his people left the cliff, dragging Sam with them. Leaving me to die. But one thing Rafe forgot, he doesn’t get rid of me that easily. What felt like hours I woke up. My body felt stiff and everything hurts.

Weakly I made my way trough the cave to the shore. My last hope for survive was my dad. He owned this ridiculous old aircraft that could land on water.

Nearing the shore I saw the outlines of the aircraft, with the last strength I had in me I screamed for my dad. ‘’DAD!’’ limping closer to the water I tried again. ‘’Dad!’’ I hadn’t much strength in me left, but it was just enough for him to hear me.

For a second time I lost conscious. The next time I woke up I laid in the plain all patched up. ‘’Dad?’’ I asked silently, slightly in panic. ‘’I am here, doll.’’ I heard my father say over the sound of the plain. ‘’We are getting Nate and Elena at the north side of the island.’’ By hearing Nate’s name I shot up from my laying position. ‘’He is alive?!’’ I could barely believe it.

A tension filled the air followed by a deafening silence until I broke it. ‘’I know about Sam.’’ My dad looked at me quickly over his shoulder. ‘’Sweetheart, I am so,’’ he started but I stopped him. ‘’I understand Dad. You did it to protect me and because the whole thing with Rafe.’’

The flight was short, we landed near the shore and waited for Nate and Elena. Loud explosion could be heard in the distance. Getting closer and closer by the second. An armored car seemed to be chasing something or someone.

In horror I saw who the car was chasing, Nate. ‘’Dad, it’s Nate!’’ But my dad was already on the case and shot an RPG at the car, making it stuck on a wall. ‘’Trow me the RPG!’’ Nate yelled and my father did what he asked.

We helped Nate up de wall after the car was taken care of. Without giving him time to react I embraced him tightly. ‘’I thought you were dead.’’ I breathed in his chest, slightly crying. ‘’Me too.’’ He whispered back.

After breaking apart I looked for Elena. ‘’Where is Elena?’’ and right after the words left my mouth she came running towards us. ‘’Hey.’’ She said before embracing each other. ‘’Hey.’’ he said back. ‘’How are you doing?’’ My father asked. ‘’Im doing good, some close calls but,’’ She stepped away from us to look at the ruins. ‘’He covered me.’’ And walking out of the ruins came Sam.

Part 6

Masterlist

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inkedsoldier · 5 years ago

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AMOR VINCIT OMNIA - Chapter Nine

A/N: Here it is – chapter nine of the AMOR VINCIT OMNIA series! A bit longer than anticipated, but I don’t think that will bother anyone, right? I’m glad you are enjoying the series. I really appreciate all the feedback I already got on the series so far. Enjoy & please let me know what you think. Thanks for all the support!

Y/N = Your name.

Y/F/N = Your first name.

Y/L/N = Your last name.

Characters: Sam Drake, Nathan Drake, Victor Sullivan, Rafe Adler, Nadine Ross, Y/N.

Warnings: angst, mention of blood, injury, drowning.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Masterlist

Chapter Nine Cross’d

Sam and Nathan were getting closer to Rafe. There must have been at least twelve well-armed mercenaries, prepared to come face to face with a Drake. They were all over the place and not afraid to die. Every man in Nadine’s army was trained to obey orders for even the most horrible acts. The gunshots came thick like winter hail. Cutting through the air with one purpose only. Luckily, both brothers managed to get into the crawlspace without being harmed, taking down all men. “Hey, careful… might be unstable after the blast.” Sam said, following Nate slowly. “Who does excavation with dynamite?” His younger brother chuckled, “Mercenaries… think Rafe would know better, though. Hey, Sam. Help me with this.” There was a beam blocking their way, probably caused by the blast from earlier. “Whoa… what if it’s the only thing holding the tunnel up?” Sam asked. “Then I’ll apologize,” Nate replied.

Your legs were kicking mid-air and only one hand held onto a small ledge. “Y/N!! Speak to me!” Sully said through the earpiece. The drop down robbed you of the ability to breath normally. “I… I’m… okay, Sully. I’m still here,” you replied as you grab the ledge with your other hand. “You scared the shit out of me, darling” he sighed. “Yeah, I heard that before,” you responded while climbing towards the ridge again. “Okay. Let’s try this again” you whispered. With a single movement you jumped up and climbed on top of the cliff. “I made it. Sully, keep those engines warm, I’m heading into the cave,” you told him before the signal got disrupted.

With quite a detour Sam and Nathan finally reached the cave. The storm was picking up and it didn’t look good. The four of you still had to get out of the country after finding Avery’s treasure. Heavy snowfall wouldn’t make it any easier. “Let’s go see what Avery left for us,” Nathan said while entering the dark tunnel. “Those Shoreline assholes were right next to this cave,” Sam muttered. “Yeah, but I think we’re the first ones in here,” he said. ‘Well, think again, sailor!” you laughed, standing up from behind a rock. “Hey, you’re here,” Nathan said as he came walking towards you for a hug. “Well, it was a close call, Nate” you say when he wraps his arms around you. “But I’m glad you are okay. They really can’t stay away from their dynamite, huh?” you went on as Sam comes closer. When he is in front of you, you gently lean in and kiss his warm lips. No words are spoken but the meaning is evident. The three of you walk deeper into the cave, “Is that a door?” you say as you stop in front of some kind of mechanism. “It sure looks like it. C’mere. Check this out.” he replied as he puts his hand in the wall. “A little slimy. There’s a handle in here or something,” Nate continued. “Well… give it a… give it a pull” Sam mocked. Nathan looked him in the eyes, “What? Could be a trap.” “You’re already in there. What’s the… what’s the worst that can happen?” Sam went on. “He can lose his hand, Sam” you warned as you take a step back. “So, we’ll give him a nice hook. Give it a pull.” Sam joked. “Nice hook. Hm, alright. Here we go,” the younger Drake mumbled pulling the handle. A door rolls open and when you walk in you immediately spot a sign, “For those who prove worthy, Paradise awaits… To those who prove false, behold your grim fate… This isn’t Avery’s,” you observed before looking at Nate and Sam. “Look,” you point to the sigil beneath the poem. “It’s the Rhode Island pirate,” Nate states as he takes a closer look. “Thomas Tew.” “Yeah, but it can’t be him. I mean, this is clearly his sigil, but… Tew died attacking the same treasure fleet as Avery. And if this is really Tew’s mark… then that means he’s involved in all of this… how?” Sam asked confused.

After exploring the cave further, you come up to another doorway. Unfortunately, you were too late to be aware of the trap. As soon as Nate enters the room the door starts closing behind him. “No, no, no, no!” Sam shouts as he pulls you with him into the room before the door closed. “Well, we’re not going back that way,” he sighs as he takes in the trial in front of him. “At least we didn’t get dropped in a pit or something,” Nate responds. There was a large device in front of you with three crosses. “This is… elaborate,” Sam says as he tries to figure out what to do. “You could say that,” you state as you approach Nate. “Found another switch. Yeah, I’m just gonna take the… hand… out. Whoa,” he announced. “This guy clearly failed the test,” you chuckle when Nate takes a step back from the mechanism. “Jesus,” Sam shouts. “Gestas, and Dismas,” you joke while you pay attention to what’s happening in front of you. Nate walks up to the huge wheel and grabs the bucket. “Now what?” Sam asks as you look around. “Well, why don’t you start with cleaning the kitchen, Sam” you snorted. “Ha-ha, funny” he replied. Nathan almost choked from laughing as he jumped down to fill up the bucket with water. As soon as he puts the bucket back in the wheel, three lights and four wheels appear. “Okay, I think I see what’s going on here,” you began. As soon as you move the bucket to the light on the top a channel ran from the top of the wheel to the door. “Okay, so bucket on top is good. Let’s keep it there. Continuing with the trial you place Jesus in the middle spotlight, Dismas on the left, and Gestas on the right. “Think that’s it?” Nathan asks, checking his notebook one last time. “Well, you could try pulling the switch,” Sam stated. Nathan runs over to the switch to pull it. “Nathan, look… I think we got it!” Sam cheered, seconds before he picks you up and gives you a quick kiss.

Knowing a lot about Saint Dismas and Avery sure came in handy during this adventure. And not to forget knowing how to climb, because even after the trial there were more broken bridges and steps to conquer. “Hey, hold… hold on…” Nate whispered and stopping us. “What?” Sam replied quietly. “Anything noteworthy by the dormitories?” Nadine asked. “Not unless you count some cleverly worded headstones,” one of her men answered before a familiar voice joined the conversation. “Nadine,” Rafe said. “Make it happen. Rafe, any luck with those manuscripts?” she went on turning her attention to her partner. “Did you hear? They found a whole annexed area under the cathedral?” “I did. Have you seen it?” he replied. “No. Why?” Nadine inquired. “Because there wasn’t much left… after they finished ‘finding’ it. They’re like a hundred well-armed bulls in a china shop,” Rafe scoffed. “…but they’ve made more progress in two days than we’ve made in months,” she remarked with pride in her voice. “Progress? I can’t analyse rubble,” Rafe replied with anger in his voice. “Tell them to sit tight until I analyse the few clues that haven’t been blown up. Okay?” “No, we can’t sit around waiting any longer. We tried things your way… instead of going with my gut, I listened to you. And now we have competition,” the leader of Shoreline bossed. “Well, I didn’t think they would show up,” Rafe replied. “Or maybe you wanted to draw them out,” Nadine hissed. “Why – why the hell would I do that?” he asked with the confusion clearly in his voice. “Because you think you need him. And maybe because you still love her. Point is, I’m done trying to do things the clean way. If the treasure is here, we’ll find it. And if not, well… maybe it’s time to move on, huh? But hey… it’s not personal,” she snapped at Rafe before leaving the room and closing the door behind her. “Let’s get moving before they blow that treasure to bits,” Nate commanded. “Wait… you think she was right? About Rafe wanting to draw you two out,” Sam asked. “As long as he doesn’t get the upper hand, who cares? Doesn’t matter,” Nate answered. You were struck by what Nadine told Rafe. Was he still in love with you?

It didn’t take long before you come across another door with a switch. “Ugh. I’ll never get used to this,” Nate said before pulling the handle in the wall. The door rolls open and reveals a huge sort of dungeon with a scale in the middle. “It’s another cross. At least this one has some jewels on it, right?” Sam observed. Right as he wants to reach for the cross Nathan stops him, “Whoa, whoa, don’t… touch it. Look at it. It’s the only valuable thing we’ve seen in this cave. This is another test.” “Greed,” Sam responds. “Yeah, or the lack thereof,” you noted. “It’s gotta be the coins.” “Alright, just… just one now,” Nathan commanded Sam who’s now reaching for one of the coins on the measure scale. The moment he takes the coin a light appears from the ceiling and draws a map on the floor. “Whoa. You recognize the shape?” Nathan laughs walking over the shape. “It’s Madagascar,” Sam claimed running over to his little brother. “And look. The star right here. That’s King’s Bay,” you beamed in. “Avery. He’s screwing with us. This was supposed to be it. So where’s the goddamned treasure, huh? I mean, King’s Bay? Great, but what’s next? North Pole? Outer Space?” Sam snapped. “For those who prove worthy… Paradise awaits… He… he was recruiting. Avery was recruiting,” Nathan remarked putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Just as Sam wants to ask about what Nathan means with recruiting an explosion goes off in front of you, knocking you to the ground. “You three are very, very noisy. Guns on the floor. Slowly,” Nadine orders. You toss aside the gun that is strapped to your thigh, following Nate and Sam’s actions. “Rafe. Rafe, come in,” she spoke through her radio. “I’m at the graveyard. Nadine, they were here,” he replied. “Yeah. I’m looking at them right now,” she told him as she looks over to you three. “What? Where are you?” Rafe asked. “Come back to the cathedral. Follow the holes,” she responded. “So, King’s Bay, huh?” she mumbled. “Yeah, but where in King’s Bay? You’ll need that cross over there to figure it out. But.. there’s only a few people that can tell you how to use it,” Sam lied, quietly commanding you and Nate to take a few steps back of the plateau. “Let me guess… you?” she remarked. “Sorry. I’m not here to negotiate. Bring me the crucifix,” she ordered one of her men. “It’s not a crucifix,” you corrected her. “What?” she asked. “Well, technically a crucifix refers to a cross that… you know what… never mind,” you finished. You take another step back until her eyes widen and she quickly tries to stop the mercenary who is reaching for the cross on the scale. “Don’t touch it!!” she shouts. The floor crumbles down and she runs over to the edge of the plateau. “Shoot them!!”

Just in time you manage to duck behind one of the pillars. “This way, c’mon,” Sam yelled. “Follow me,” he said, running towards the higher platform. “We gotta go up to get out. Nathan?! Y/N, look out!!” Just in time you duck down, avoiding a shot from one of Nadine’s men. As you kick him down you obtain his gun and start running to the nearest exit. “Whoa,” Sam yelped, grabbing you by the arm and swinging to the pillar. “Man, we really kicked the hornet’s nest, didn’t we?” Sam said. “Yeah, we kicked it, punched it, and set it on fire,” you reply, while shooting down some of Nadine’s men on your way out. “Sam, watch the turret!” Nathan yelled. “Nice shot! Got’em! Nice shot, little brother! That’s it, let’s keep moving!” Sam responded.

“Goddamnit, Nate! I can hear the fireworks from here. What the hell’s going on?” Sullivan said through the radio. “Long story; short version is get us the hell out of here!” Nate replied. “Yeah, I figured. Hold tight, be there as soon as I can!”

You had to get out of this place as fast as possible. You were low on ammo and the adrenaline was keeping you focussed, at least for now. The wind was picking up again and the snow danced around you. “Just keep heading down until we hit the water,” Nathan commanded. “Kid, they’re shooting at my plane. Hurry the hell up, or your ride’s gonna sink!” Sullivan said through the radio. “We’re almost there, Sully” you say through your earpiece. “Okay, here we go… ah!!” You jump down and slide down the rocky slope towards the plane. The moment you hit the freezing water something hit your head. The water closed around you. Red and black spots danced in front of you and you couldn’t remember if your eyes were opened or closed.

“Aahh! Sully! Get her going!” Nate shouted climbing into the plane, followed by Sam. “Where the hell is Y/N?” Victor asked. “What?! She was behind me,” Sam replied in panic. “Shit! No!” He looked around, but you were nowhere to be seen. Nathan dived back into the ocean, dodging bullets, searching you. “Where the hell is she?” Sam yelled taking a quick breath and going under again. As soon as he turns left he spots you motionless, sinking deeper and deeper into the darkness. Faster than he had ever swam he raced to you. Your eyes were closed. He waisted no time and hooked his arms underneath yours, pulling your body close before heading back to the surface. “Sam?! Sam!” Nathan screamed. “I got her. She is not moving, Nathan!!” the older Drake replied. When he reached the plane, Nathan and Victor grab your arms and pull you inside the plane. “We need to go, boys,” Sully said. Sam quickly enters the plane to help Nathan with you, when Sully shuts the door and takes off. “Y/N, wake up!” he screamed shaking your body. He placed his ear next to your mouth and nose. Your chest wasn’t moving and there was no pulse to be found. Nathan started CPR and hoped you would start to breath again. “Come on, sweetheart. You got this,” he mumbled. “No, no, no, come on, Y/N. I can’t lose you. Not again,” Sam whispered before checking your breathing and pulse again.

When Nathan was about to pull his brother away from you, to start another round of CPR, you started coughing up water. “Oh god,” Sam said in relief when you were breathing again. It was hard to make out the details of where you were right now as you slowly open your eyes. You tried to sit up, but Sam stopped you, “Don’t, Y/N. Stay down.” You lay on the cold floor while he cleaned your face from the blood that streamed down from the gash on your forehead. “That needs some stitching” he said to you. “You scared me, sweetheart. Don’t do that again, please.” You tried to talk but it took way too much energy at this point, so you just nodded. Slowly you close your eyes again when Nate covers you with one of the blankets that you left in the plane earlier.

Tag list: @kiara-arts @wintermuteway

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all-hail-the-witcher · 5 years ago

Text

nobody likes a claggy bit of cheese

this idea came to me in mid november while i was watching an episode of the great british bakeoff and crocheting a scarf for my sister while eating a very very healthy college lunch of apple sauce and caramel corn. someone (maybe it was paul) said the word “claggy” and i was like Wow That’s British. and then someone else (probably paul again) said “stodgy” and i was like WoW ThAts BriTisH. and then i was like you know who would appreciate these Very British Words?? my dumb friend who likes to pretend he's british. and thEn i was like Oh Shit what if he hosted great british bakeoff that would be energy oh my god. and i was About to text him that when i was like No Wait! instead of a baking competition it would be a Mac And Cheese competition because that's like,,,his wholes pride and joy. and then i was about to text him that but then i was like wAIT! this has fic written all over it oh my god i can see it now. and now here we are.

also mikey in case you didn't realize, you are my dumb fake british friend and this is your present but i mean its more of your persona slapped on race and i called it a day. its not a mothman shirt but it'll have to do eye guess

anywaymst

enjoy this trash pile

_________

ship: eye guess its platonic ralbert

genre: pure ass crack

warnings: uhmmm, race is an idiot, poorly written british accents, paul hollywood stare, uhhh, albert is Annoyed, jack is an idiot who makes bad mac, spot get Angryyy, idk im writing there before the fic is finished, katherine definitely knows the mafia

editing: lol that's funny

words: enough to fill a few pages but not enough to bore you to death like the metamorphosis

_________

“CHEESE!”

Blankets tornadoed around the room as Race jumped off the bed in a half awake sleepy haze, barely landing on his feet in a fight stance, wielding his phone like a weapon in front of him. He glared into the dark corners (not that he could even tell where the corners were considering that it was pitch dark) of the room before stumbling out into the hallway, muttering madly about cheese.

“Cheese...blue cheese…..string cheese…...mozzarella cheese….” Race barely heard his own half-mad whispers as he opened all the cabinets, rummaging around in the same matter a hurricane floods a basement, in a mad search for pasta. When he came up empty handed he scowled, sat himself up on the counter and yelled for the next best thing:

“ALLLLLLLBBEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRT!”

CRASH! That would be Albert falling out of bed. Race kicked his feet against the cabinet impatiently.

WHOOSH! SLAM! And there was Albert’s door opening and closing at an alarming speed.

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! The pictures in the living room began to shake, announcing his arrival.

“Race?! What’s going on? Are you okay??” And there was Albert, sliding into the kitchen in nothing but a pair of socks and boxers (despite the fact that it was probably 3 degrees out), weilding a single black converse high top. Race wasn’t quite sure how the shoe was supposed to help him, but he decided to ignore it. He couldn’t afford to get distracted by Albert’s weird antics when there was a legitimate crisis at hand.

“Race…?” Albert asked again, slowly lowering his shoe. “Is everything-” “We’re out of pasta.”

“We’re- what?” The shoe Albert had been holding banged to the floor. “You’re telling me that you woke me up at” he peered at the oven clock over Race’s shoulder, “three fifteen am to tell me that we’re out of pasta?”

“It’s horrible isn’t it?” Race slammed his head into the cabinet behind him. “Now I can’t make mac and cheese!” “W h y do you want to make mac and fucking cheese at three fifteen in the goddamn morning?!”

“BECAUSE ALBERT-” Race jumped down off the counter, “-I had a dream. A dream where I was competing on The Great British Bakeoff and I made my Famous mac and cheese. And Paul Hollywood, the man, the legend h i m s e l f, tasted my humble mac and said ‘Race. That is amazing.’ And gave me a handshake! And I was so honored that I awoke hungry for the wonderful, delicious, creamy taste of mac and cheese. So I wander into the kitchen and what do I find? A fridge full of cheese, but no pasta to be found!” He stepped closer to Albert, planting his hand firmly on his shoulder. “This is an emergency!”

Albert swatted away Race’s hand and rubbed his eyes, already turning back toward his room. “If Paul Hollywood deemed your mac and cheese so amazing then just hold a competition of your own and make other people make mac and cheese for you. That way I don’t have to go to Walgreens at three thirty.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “I’m going back to bed. Don’t make us lose our security deposit.”

Race stood in stunned silence as Albert disappeared down the hall and his door closed.

“That sleep deprived idiot might actually be onto something,” he muttered, launching himself onto one of the bar stools and opening his laptop. He had work to do.

•••

“You know, when I told you to host your own mac and cheese competition I thought I dreamt that entire encounter, and, now that I realize that I definitely didn’t, I especially didn't expect you to make me host it, and I certainly didn’t expect you to make me wear this dumb costume.” He tugged uncomfortably at the dark blazer and black wig.

“Oi mate, if you’re gonna be Sue yew gotta start actin like ‘er!” Race glared.

“But Race-”

“Thas Paul Hollywood to you. I don want none uh this ‘Race’ business,” he crossed his arms and gave Al his best Steely Eyed, Paul Hollywood Glare.

Albert just rolled his eyes and stomped off.

Race sighed happily as he turned to survey the tent in front of him. He had called Katherine last night after his missing pasta crisis and asked if he could use her Dad’s Hampton’s estate to host a mock version of the Great British Bakeoff but for mac and cheese. Katherine, like any good rebellious daughter, had loved the idea and called several of her “contacts” that apparently “owed her favors.” (Race didn’t understand the life of rich people, it seemed very extravagant and two-faced) And that was how Race had come to be standing in a tent with what could very well be the set up of the Great British Bakeoff laid out in front of him with he himself dressed in his very best blue button down and jeans, a spitting image of Paul Hollywood. Well, maybe Paul Hollywood 30 years ago.

His friends that he had invited on to be the contestants of the show were setting up at their stations. There was Jack, Davey, Romeo, Mush, Blink, Finch, Buttons, Specs, JoJo, Spot, Crutchie, and Smalls. Katherine had opted not to participate and instead film everyone to make it seem more like the actual show.

Someone (probably Katherine) had forced Albert to stand next to him to announce the signature challenge that they had prepared.

“Alright bakers-”

Race shot him a side glance.

“-er, mac and cheese cookers?” he tried to amend. “Today Ra-uh, Paul would like you to make a nice, hefty batch of mac and cheese. You may use whatever ingredients you would like, but he would like it to be cheesy, delicious, and contain pasta. You have 45 minutes.” Race could practically hear the sigh in his voice. “On your marks, get set, ba-cOOK!”

Finally, Race thought as his friends scrambled around their respective stations, I’m going to get some good mac.

•••

It was becoming very clear very quickly that Race may not actually be getting any good mac.

He wandered from station to station, Albert following begrudgingly behind him, progressively becoming more and more disappointed in each and every one of his friends. Didn’t any of them know how to cook?

“Roight Jack.” He leaned on the one empty scrap of counter in front of him. “What are yew makin?”

“It’s a surprise.” Jack - well he assumed it was Jack, he couldn’t really be sure with all the flour flying everywhere - ran around his workspace, which was crowded with every ingredient imaginable, from shredded cheese to, was that maple syrup?

“Jack for the sake of the show yew gotta tell us what yew’re makin.” Jack must not have the braincell today.

From somewhere in the flour cloud a timer went off. Jack yelped and dropped what sounded like several pots with an amazingly loud clatter.

“If you really must know - ouch!! - I’m making - god fUCK! - baked mac and cheese with a - SHIT! - crispy top.”

“Alright well,” Albert dodged a flying blob of flaming cheese, “we’ll leave you to it. Hopefully we get to actually eat something edible.”

“Good luck,” Race turned away from Jack’s workstation and leaned towards Albert as they made their way to Mush’s station. “Do we ave a foire extinguishah here?”

“I think so?”

“Good cause we moight need it.” Albert looked at him knowingly for a long minute before the two of them snapped out of it and approached Mush.

“So Mush,” Race said, taking in the polar opposite of the mess of a station that had been Jack’s, “what ave yew got for us?”

Mush smiled, looking up from the block of cheese that he had been grating. “Today I’m going to be making my signature mac and cheese with three kinds of cheese.”

Race let out an audible sigh of relief. Finally something that sounded edible!

“Is that pleasing enough for you, Your Highness?” Mush winked mischievously and Albert giggled.

Race straightened up, checking his mouth for drool (there was none). “Yes, oim looking forward tew it.” He watched as the cheese mush was grating flaked satisfyingly into the bowl, his mouth watering at the very sight and thought of cheese. Oh cheese. Beautiful, rich, delicious cheese. “Oi would like tew sample some cheese if yew don't mind.”

Mush straightened up, putting his hands around his cheese protectively. “And I want someone to slap me so hard my eyes fall out. We can’t all get what we want, Susan B. Anthony.”

“Hollywood, moi name is Paul Hollywood.” Race glared at Mush, horrified that he would decline him the judge a cheese sample! Paul Hollywood always got ingredient samples when he asked for them! Maybe he should have put more effort into his hair today…

“I know very well who you are,” Mush went back to grating his cheese. It was as if he were mocking Race with every bit of shredded goodness that fell onto the glorious cheese mountain.

“I do believe you’ve upset Mr. Hollywood.” Albert smirked. Of course he had to join in on the make-Race-feel-like-hes-being-mocked party.

“I don’t particularly care about Mr. Hollywood’s feelings,” Mush put down the grater and reached under his counter for a pan. “What I do care about is the fate of my mac and cheese so,” he stared at the two of them, deadpan , “be gone Thots.”

“But-”

“I SAID BE GONE THOTS!” Mush pointed a wooden spoon at the two of them menacingly and Race half expected sparks to shoot out of the end like some kind of sorcery bullshit, but all he got was a cloud of flour to the face and twelve sets of confused eyes looking at him.

“Uhh,” he mustered every ounce of Paul Hollywood that he could, “thank yew Mush.” Quickly he turned away, brushing the flour out of his sharpied on beard and mustache while Albert stifled laughter next to him. “Shut up,” he muttered.

“But that was-”

“Oi said shut- oh hoi Smalls!” He tried desperately to regain his composure as they approached the final station.

“Gucci Prada my fuckin clown wig I- oh, uh, hi!” Smalls quickly put the spatula that she had been holding behind her back.

“What are yew makin for uh today?” Race took in Smalls’s station. There was a wide array of cheese on the counter, we well as spices and breadcrumbs and pasta. But something seemed...different.

Smalls looked down at her feet, suddenly very interested in the carpet.. “I’m making gluten free baked mac and cheese.”

“Why gluten free?”

“Because,” Smalls glanced behind her briefly before hissing, “because that was the only kind of pasta I could find in my cabinet that's why you feet fucker.”

Race’s toes tingled with happiness. He do it! He could say the trademark Paul Hollywood meme thing!

“Now, when yew make mac and cheese gluten free it tends to get stickey and lose some of its taiste. Ave yew tested this to make sure that wont appen?”

“Y e s,” Smalls rolled her eyes. “I put extra oil in it so the pasta wont get sticky a n d there’s lots of spices for added flavor.” She brought her spatula out from behind her back in a soldiers salute. “I won’t disappoint you, your Highness Mr. Paul Hollywwod Sir.”

“Yew bettah not,” Race laughed as he walked back to his very official looking director’s chair (he didn’t want to know how many people Katherine had had to kill to get this).

“Sue, how much toime is left?”

“TEN MINUTES COOKERS, TEN MINUTES!”

There were varying screams of frustration from around the room as his friends scrambled to get done. The smell of cooking cheese wafted from several ovens and stoves and Race smiled contentedly. Twas almost Mac Time.

•••

Ten minutes later, as promised, Race was standing behind a Very Official looking wooden table with a fork and a glass of water, ready to taste (or spit out, depending on whose it was), his friends’ mac and cheese.

“Oilright, Davey, why don’t yew bring up yewr mac.”

Davey strode up to the table confidently, somehow without a spec of food on his apron, and placed down a plate of gooey looking pasta. Man oh man he was excited! But no, today he was Paul Hollywood. No excitement. Only glares.

He picked up his fork and took a scoop of pasta, glaring at Davey for good measure as he tasted.

He chewed for far longer than actually necessary to give Davey just enough time to get nervous before giving his verdict. “Whot yew’ve actually done is quite noice, Oi rather loike the blend of the cheddar and the goat cheese, but what yew’ve done is create something that’s so soft that its lacking textah. It’s loike Oi need somethin crunchy to offset it.”

Davey nodded. “Okay.”

“But overall noice job.” He nodded, the silent cue for Davey to take his dish and return to his station.

Race surveyed the contestants and grimaced. “Jack bring yew’re flamin bomb up here.”

He thought he heard Jack mutter some half-decent curses under his breath, but not decent enough for him to repeat.

A few seconds later a lump of orange stuff with green (???) blobs on top on a plate was placed in front of him. “Roight,” he sighed. “What ave yew got there?”

“Well this is my baked mac and cheese with green goldfish topping!” Jack said proudly.

Race looked at the plate as if it were a flesh eating disease that could kill him at any second. And, knowing Jack’s track record with food, it just might. “Any reason why you chose green goldfish?”

“Adds a pop of color!” Jack bounced on his toes.

Good gosh. Race took the tiniest bite possible on his fork and lifted it to his mouth-

“Make sure you get a goldfish!” Jack insisted. “Really adds a burst of flavor!”

“Oh sure, sure.” Race picked one up before shoving the whole abomination into his mouth. He chewed for a few seconds before swallowing down as best as he could.

“Wow that is pitiful,” Race coughed. “The pasta is overcooked, and the cheese, yew’ve cooked it too much so that it’s become gummy, and all the moistah has gone into the goldfish and made them soggy.”

“Oh,” Jack sounded deflated.

“Overall the textah is a bit claggy, and no one loikes a claggy bit of cheese.”

“Right, right.” Jack stroked his invisible beard.

“Overall its dreadful and Oi’d loike it if you removed it from my sights, preferably to the bin. Next!”

•••

Almost a half hour later Race was practically done testing all of the mac and cheese, save for Mush’s and Smalls’s. Along with Jack’s trashpile, Spot’s had also been notably horrible, it was somehow burnt and undercooked at the same time? Race didn’t even want to know. Crutchie’s and JoJo’s though had been surprisingly decent, and both were in the running to win.

“Oilroight Smalls, bring up yewr mac why don’t yew.”

A few moments later a plate of mac and cheese was dumped in front of Race with no class whatsoever. “Here you go Mr. Paul Sir.”

Race stabbed his fork into the pile of noodles. “This was the gluten free baked mac and cheese, roight?” “Yes your highness.”

Race rolled the noodles around on his tongue for a few long moments while his taste buds analyzed the flavor combinations.

“Roight so, I warned yew about this bein tasteless roight?” Smalls quirked up her eyebrow. “It’s tasteless isn’t it.”

“Yes. Get it away from me at once.”

“Of course, your lordship.” Smalls snatched the plate from the table, even curtsying to Race before making her way back to her station, picking up a fork, and digging into her own mac and cheese.

“I don't know what you’re talking about Mister Colonel Hollywood Sir, this tastes great!”

Race bushed imaginary crumbs off of his table. “And Oi’m goin tew pretend Oi didn’t hear that.” He pointed to Mush. “Mush, bring up yewr creation, if yew pleathe.”

“But of course!” Mush placed down his plate of mac and cheese in front of Race, who dug in immediately. “What you have there is parmesan, cheddar, and american cheese with elbow pasta. Enjoy.”

Race let the glorious noodles glide over his tongue as his palate was enveloped in a wonderful cheese flavor. He was amazed. He was astounded. Hell he was even speechless! What did Paul Hollywood do when he was speechless? Oh right!

“Well done Mush,” he stuck out his hand for the famous Paul Hollywood Handshake. “That’s a really great plate you’ve made.”

“Oh, thank you sir!” Mush smiled joyfully as Albert tried to sneak a bite of the mac and cheese. Race swatted his hand away with his other hand.

“In fact, it’s the best that Oi’ve had today, and Oi announce yew as Star Cooker!”

The room erupted into cheers and everyone ran to hug Mush while Race quickly finished his mac and cheese. His plan had worked perfectly. The next time he was out of pasta at three am he knew exactly who to call.

•••

“Hello? Do you need help burying the body?” A tired voice answered the phone.

“Mush, it’s Race. I’m craving mac and cheese and I don't have any pasta. Can you-”

“NO!”

_________

so how bout that huh

anyway sappy boi hours heh i love mikey and im real happy that were friends cause he's the absolute best and i cant wait to meet him next week eeee

feedback is always appreciated hmu to be on the tag list

tag list

@fairly-awkward-trashcan

@well-the-kids-do-too

@racetrackcook

@ughwaitwhat

@aw-jus-let-em-try

@voice-foundshoe-lost

@stopthe-presses

@ridin-in-style

@pinecovewoods

@i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing

@getchapapes

@be-more-chill-evan-hansen

@stellar-alpaca

@saxoph-ella

@smolcanadiankid

@disney-princess-sized

@the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog

@spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn

@have-we-got-news-for-you

@thatfancyclam

@myidkwhatmynameisblog

@legoflambwrites

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@albertdasillvaprotectionsquad

@entschuldigung-bitches

@thebroadwayaesthetic

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@albert-eats-cookie-cake

@nico-nat

@localfakeitalian

@carryyourownbanner

@writing-makes-me-antsy

@racetrackyeetgins

#saphie scribbles #newsies #newsies fic #ralbert #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #this is not a christmas fit its just a christmas present #*fic #heh #luv you my milky tot #;)#grandpapi #papi #suburban papi #oatmeal aesthetic dad #daddy #cricket feet #u make my feet tingle with happiness #SIX DAYS MAN

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alloftheimaginess · 5 years ago

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Return

The year was 1980 something.

(Y/n) was finally returning home from the big apple after finally coming to peace with he past and the things she went through with Will and almost dying six times in three years.

Her first stop on the list of visits is the Henderson household because she has to check up on and surprise her little buddy who isn’t so little now because he’s in his sophomore year of high school. But he’ll always be her little buddy.

I knock loud enough for them to hear in case Mrs. Henderson is sitting in front of the loud tv with Tews. The front door swings open and she gasps at me and she hurriedly pulls me into a hug “it’s so good to see you, look at you” she says squeezing my arms “dusty isn’t here, he’s at Mike’s” she says “okay thank you” I say smiling at her as she heads back inside “oh merry Christmas Mrs. Henderson” I say waving bye before I head down the steps to leave.

I pull up to Mike’s house and I get out going to knock on the front door. I ring the doorbell when the door isn’t answered and it swings open to reveal Mrs. Wheeler trying to put in her earrings “in the basement” she says stepping to the side and I nod stepping in going the way I use to go every day but haven’t been in three years.

I hear them shouting in the basement and I know an intense game of dungeons and dragons is happening down there. I slowly open the door not to alert them and I flip the light off going down the steps and I hear them freaking out trying to find the other light switch to turn on the light. I flip it on and they all turn around screaming when they see me and I laugh at all of them having some type of weapon.

“(Y/N)!” Dustin yells running over to me and I hug him “dusty” I say and Lucas comes over “Lukey” I say hugging them at the same time “Mikey and Willy” I say and they both run over joining the hug “how’s New York treating you!?” Mike asks excitedly when they all break away “I can’t complain, I mean it’s not Hawkins but there’s a lot more to do” I say laughing.

“Steve is going to be so happy to see you” Will says “Steve?” I ask “yeah” I hear and I look towards the stairs to see Steve coming down “(y/n)?” he asks when he sees me and I smile at him “the one who made it out” he says setting the gifts down and we stare at each other. “It’s so good to see you” he says walking closer and my brain completely shuts down.

I knew when I was coming back that I was going to run into pretty much everyone I use to know at some point but my mind completely erased Steve “the hair” Harrington so all the memories flooding back in hit me like a ton of bricks.

“It’s good to see you too” I say pushing down any feelings I have towards him and I pull him into a hug and after an awkward amount of time he pulls away and I hate it, being in his arms again after three years felt way better than I would like to admit. “Why are you here?” Dustin asks “I had time off and I decided to come back home and see you guys” I say “and I brought gifts” I say opening my purse and handing them all the gifts with their names on the wrapper “can we open them now?” Will asks “if that’s what you want or you can wait until Monday” I say smiling at them “we’ll wait” Mike says “while we have you, we don’t know how to wrap and by the looks of this you know how so we need your help wrapping our parents gifts” Lucas says “I’ll teach you guys” I say.

40 minutes later

I regret everything, the kids are fighting and covering each other in wrapping paper along with poor Steve who got held down and wrapped up against his will. “Dustin cut a big piece of wrapping paper for me” I say and he pulls it making most it roll off of the roll and I sigh standing up to try to clean the attic up because I can’t wrap in this condition. I grab the balls of scrapped wrapping paper and I go up the stairs to go throw it in the trash and I stop to get something to drink.

I make my way back to the basement and I open the door and Steve is standing right there still covered in wrapping paper “we got you a gift” Dustin says and I see my name written on Steve’s arm and Max clears her throat nodding her head up and we both slowly look up and I shake my head “no” I say “you have to, it’s tradition” El says and I know she’s no longer on my side. They all start snickering when they see how red our faces are “might as well, I mean you are already my Christmas gift” I say laughing and he laughs with me grabbing my face and just going right in.

The minute his lips touched mine it was like a huge firework show, my stomach fills up with butterflies and my cheeks heat up and turn so red it looks like I overapplied blush before I left out the house. We both pull away at the same time staring at each other “get a room already” Will says causing me to laugh “you guys are so dead” I say looking at them before running down the steps and chasing after them

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #the party #will byers #lucas sinclair #dustin henderson #max mayfield #eleven hopper #mike wheeler #jane hopper #new york #hawkins #hawkins indiana #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagines #stranger things reader insert #stranger things

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foolishlovebugbaby · 5 years ago

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he loves me, he loves me not. | part 1

hanahaki-disease!au / highschool!au

Summary: it’s hard watching your bestfriend hack up brilliant yellow tulip petals as a result of being the apple of someone’s eye. it’s even harder, however, to fess up and admit that you’re the cause of his respiratory ailments.

Genre: fluff, slow-burn.

Word count: 3.8k

The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from unrequited love, where the patient’s throat will fill up with flower and will then proceed to cough up the petals. One of the only ways for the disease to ‘disappear’ is if the said person returns the feelings.

AU where the person you love is the one coughing up your favorite flowers.

There are many defining moments in a person’s lifetime.

Some have the day they turned double-digits as one. Many have the death of a loved one alter them for life. Others choose their most spectacular adventure as the moment of their transformative ascend.

Yours, however, came in the form of a freckle-speckled brunette and bright green scissors.

“T-teachew! Teachew! Fe-Fewix cut my haiw!” you wailed, your tears spouting from eyes that were too big for your face. 4-year-old you was in complete and utter shambles- what once was your pride and joy (long hair that you had been growing out since you were 2- albeit it only reached your shoulder blades, it was a lot for your wanna-be Rapunzel dreams) was now a sad excuse for a very asymmetrical bob cut. And it was all because of that grinning, moon-crescent-eyed boy with a hefty handful of your snipped hair clutched in his left hand and a bright pair of apple-green scissors in the other.

“You shouwd thank me! Youw haiw is awways annoying you! You keep fwipping it off youw shouwders.” He retorted, brows coming together and huffing as he crossed his little arms over his chest. Poor Felix really did have good intentions- he really wanted to help you out of your predicament; he’d always seen you brush your thick hair away from your face and decided that enough was enough. He wanted to be the prince in shining armour that freed you from your cage- or, in this case, your hair. And anyways, he’d always wondered what it would be like to cut hair.

You shrieked louder.

“Now I can’t be Wapunzew and it’s aw youw fauwt!” unending tears flowed as you flailed your short arms around helplessly, throwing a tantrum at the nursery. The teachers did their best to shush you and coax you into calming down, but you wouldn’t have it. Felix was public enemy number 1, and you were merciless.

Well, merciless for a 4-year-old.

“He shouwd be in time outsies!” you declared, pointing an accusatory and humorously chubby finger at the boy. He gaped.

“No! I won’t get to pway wif my fwiends!” He argued, his big brown eyes widening at the teacher as they pleaded his case. Luckily for you, she wasn’t one to crumble at cute puppy-dog eyes and pouts that could send authoritarians in a heart-fluttering outburst.

“Lee Felix, in the naughty chair right now!” she pointed sternly at the naughty corner that held the most dreaded seats in class. Granted, they were just step-stools spray painted black with the words “Time Out ☹️” written in bold white letters surrounded by an infant safety cage to keep you locked in- but in your world of rainbows and blissful ignorance, that corner was the world’s worst prison cell and Felix was about to enter a world full of hurt.

His eyes brimmed with tears as he slumped dejectedly and dragged his feet towards the naughty corner. You laughed menacingly.

“Losew! Muahaha, that’s what big-bums wike you get!” you watched too many cartoons with evil geniuses, and that definitely showed in the way you smiled wickedly and rubbed your hands together like you were gargamel and Felix was the first smurf you caught. You stuck your tongue out at him and made an L shape with your fingers that you planted firmly on your forehead.

Boy, were you one mean 4 year old tyrant.

“Y/N! What did I say about foul language and teasing?” The teacher had her hands on her hips and a disappointed glare written all over her face as she stared down at you. Foul language was an... interesting concept in nursery.

You stared up at her towering figure and shrinked back. “Off to the naughty corner for you.” She sternly held onto your chubby wrist and dragged you to the prison. Your small, growing mind could not comprehend why you were the one being punished when you were the victim of this ruthless attack.

“B-b-but-!”

“No but’s!” Felix snickered immaturely at that. “I want you both to reflect on what happened today and make up, got it? No playing or moving until I get back!” The teacher scolded and they nodded submissively, eyes glued to the floor with arms crossed on their chest as she sauntered out of the room.

You glanced at Felix out of the corner of your eye and huffed. The bitterness was eating at you, so you scooted as far away as you possibly could in the small confines and let out a very angry hmph. You fiddled with your hair- or, what was left of it, and began feeling an overwhelming sense of misery. My poor poor hair...

Your sniffles broke the rather tense and awkward silence between you both. You cried softly to yourself, and little Felix could feel the guilt swallow him whole. His little heart softened at the sight of you.

“H-hey, d-don’t cwy,” he cautiously scooted his stool closer to you and placed an arm around you. “I-I’m weawwy s-sowwy.” His full lips pouted when you only looked away.

“I-I just wanted to hewp you,” His doe eyes glassed over with tears of guilt as his arm retreated from your shoulders and onto his lap where he fiddled with his thumbs.

You hated to admit it, but your fickle heart didn’t like being so harsh on the pouty boy next to you. But he took it too far, so you stood your ground even if you did want to go back to making unshapely flowers with him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Felix move to the edge of the pen and stand on his time out stool, his small arms stretching as much as they could towards the table directly in front of you.

“What awe you doing?” You asked curiously as you turned to him. He placed a finger on his lips as he successfully grabbed a marker and piece of paper. You only looked more confusingly at him as he turned his back to you, scribbling something on. You pouted.

First this punk cuts my hair, then he hides-

“I-I know it’s not weal, b-but I just wanted to say sowwy.” He held up the paper right in front of your face. The once blank pink sheet now had a bundle of haphazardly drawn yellow flowers- if you could call it that. The petals were scribbled on and the stems looked more like waves, but hey, what more could he have done with no table and a limited colour selection?

His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were hopeful, “M-maybe if you agwee to be fwiends then I could tew mommy to get you weal ones?” You stared at the paper then at him, joy fluttering through you.

Picasso? Rembrandt? Michelangelo? Who were they? You only knew Lee Felix, and he just drew you the greatest florals you’d ever seen.

You giggled loudly and hugged him. “Ofcouwse we can be fwiends!” You shook him around in your tiny arms and he giggled along with you. “But you have to pwomise not to cut my haiw ewer again,” You looked him dead in the eye, your hands planted on his shoulders as you held him at arms length. He nodded vigorously.

“I pwomise.” He held a pinky up to and you gladly intertwined your own.

So maybe you did end up with shorter hair- but then again, you also managed to end up with yellow tulips and a best friend.

“Gosh, I feel so bad for her.” Felix grimaced next to you as you both sat in Math class. “She looks like she’s about to cough up an entire rose meadow.”

“Tell me about it.” You mumbled and looked pityingly at the girl in question. She was coughing up a storm right at the front of the class, red rose petals littering her desk and covering her math work. It was sad, really- news went around that she had dumped her boyfriend just a few weeks ago, and while she was able to move on and tear herself away from the animosity of teen love, he clearly wasn’t. Lo and behold, she had come down with a case of the nasties- the one disease that showcased your desirability while also managing to turn you into an other-worldly sort of TB patient on acid. The Hanahaki disease.

Or, hacki-hacki, as Felix liked to call it. “Get it, because they hack up a florist’s dream?”

What deity out there decided that bestowing this cruel respiratory ailment was a good idea? You had no clue. But the pitfalls of highschool had made it especially arduous to face. Sure, love was fickle, and true love even more so at this age, but that didn’t prevent any cases from whizzing through the hallways ready to grapple it’s next victim mercilessly. Privacy for dealing with unrequited love was a luxury that no one could afford.

“As antagonistic as it seems, I’m so glad no one’s in love with me.” Felix declared. “I wouldn’t be able to stand having petals clogging up my oesophagus.”

“I have a feeling the universe is going to wreck you sideways just for saying that.” You snort.

“Well, after today there’ll be absolutely no school for the next two months which means neither of us will have to face the horror that is High School Hormones,” He puts an arm around you and looks up, as if envisioning something in the air, “and we’ll be able to bask in the glory that is Summer.” A few beats pass with you in utter confusion over what it is you both were staring at until you snort and flick his forehead.

“You are so dramatic, Fefe.” He scowled at the nickname. “Summer is going to be so boring since everyone will be out the country except me.” You huffed and pouted, slumping in your seat.

He sat up straighter, “Hey, I’m still going to be here!”

“And what about it?”

He gasped loudly, quite dramatically, too, and held a hand up to his chest. The whole class shot their heads up like meerkats and looked towards your table, Felix’s ears turning crimson from embarrassment as you tried to bite back a laugh. You were amused at the boy, really, at how he’d manage to turn everything into a melodramatic screenplay if given enough inspiration to do so.

“Your heart is on the other side, genius.” He glared at you and rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. You’re such a spoil-sport, you know? But, being the generous person that I am, I’m willing to forgive your disrespectful ass.” You scoffed. “Baby, you and I are going to have the greatest summer ever, and I won’t allow anything less.” He leaned back, all smug and proud as if he had already planned the greatest holiday itinerary to ever exist.

You glanced at him, skeptical, but accepted the idea nonetheless. What’s the worst that could happen, right?

“If we don’t have the City Girl Summer of our dreams, then I’m blaming you.”

“You burnt the cookies.”

“I did not burn the cookies,” Felix reaches over and grabs one straight out of the tray, instantly dropping it due to it’s scalding heat. It flips over on your countertop and topples, landing on its face looking like a sad excuse of a choco-chip- which, in retrospect, it was.

“Okay, so maybe I did burn them.” he defends poorly, scratching his temple.

“Maybe? It looks like the sweat stain on Mr. Song’s brown button up whenever he demonstrates where the axillary lymph nodes are.” You snicker and he scowls at you, shoving your arm.

“I get it, I get it, geez. But in my defense I wouldn’t have burnt them if you,” He points his small index finger at you. “Had reminded me to check on the cookies every five minutes. So, really, this is all your fault.” He waves the same finger around the messy kitchen, which looked like a tornado had raided it’s contents in an unsuccessful attempt to find hidden treasure.

“Are you kidding me?” You gasp in disbelief of his accusation. The nerve of this boy was insurmountable, and you’d think more than a decade’s worth of friendship would have taught you that his juvenile ass was always ready to pick a fight out of thin air. But, just like his ego, your contentious self would not go down without a fight.

You gaped like a fish, having a flurry of obscenities ready to spew out and lash at him, but all failing to make it past your lips as a result of your vexation. So you growled, like a damn beast, and stuck your hand in the flour bag. His eyes widened, “You wouldn’t.” He huffed, squinting his eyes at you so as to call your bluff.

Wordlessly, you fisted the flour in your hand and hurdled in straight on his face, which became somewhat of a nuclear white, the flour covering his hair all the way down to the neck line of his sweater. They really weren’t messing around when they called this thing ‘all-purpose’.

You giggled, the hostility in you practically vanishing like the puff of flour that wafted through the air between you both. His eyes were shut tight and his lips were pulled in a straight line. “You think that’s funny?” He says lowly with his head tilted to the side as he rubs the flour from his eyes.

“I think it’s hilarious.” You squeak, the humor in your voice obnoxiously apparent and he bites the inside of his cheek, nodding and looking around.

Within and split second he has you in a headlock, your back against his floury chest and his arm around your neck as you squeal and squirm. You see his free hand reach over for the egg carton, and you can’t help but think your mom would kill you once she gets home.

“Woah there buddy, let’s call a truce, why don’t we? C’mon, you know I love ya.” You humor, trying to appeal to him so as to not get egged.

“Pro tip; dousing an egg spillage with salt makes for easier clean up.”

“Why do you say tha-” Oh.

You gasp; the feeling of eggshell cracking against your skull wasn’t one you were... accustomed to, to say the least. You felt the slimy and cold contents trickle down your forehead and you swore you could summon the wrath of a thousand gods in that moment.

Felix lets you go as he laughs boisterously, enjoying your distress a little too much. “Oh shit,” He breathes out wheezing and doubles over in laughter. You angrily wipe your face and glare at him, “Oh shit is correct.”

Now, if anyone were to walk in on the whole debacle, they’d be in for a treat. It was like watching a rerun of Tom and Jerry- only Tom was a freckled brunette wheezing in laughter and Jerry was a 5-foot-something girl clinging onto him in a chokehold.

“What in heaven’s name...” Your mom stood at the entrance of the kitchen, mouth agape and absolutely astonished by the sight before her; flour scattered all over her granite island, egg shells cracked on the floor, a tray of sad cookies turned over on the counter top, and “Is something burning?”

She has yet to lay eyes on the pair of you- which was a good thing, since the sight would have sent her into cardiac arrest. But that momentary save was short lived as it was quite hard to not notice the fact that her daughter was grasping her best-friend’s son like a baby monkey clinging onto its mama.

You and Felix stare back at her, mouth opening and closing like goldfish. “It’s all his fault, I swear.” You point a finger to his head below yours with the hand that, only a few seconds ago, was clawing at him.

“Are you kidding me?” He whispers-yells at you, “I swear, she started it.” He shrugs you off of him harshly and you trip but regain your balance. You snarl at the back of his head.

Before you could pounce on the boy again, you hear your mom harshly tsk your way and you freeze. “One day you kids are going to give me a heart attack,” She shakes her head and sets the grocery bags at the foot of the entrance. “Luckily, today is not that day. Now start cleaning up, both of you.” She points a finger at the pair of you and begins to walk away.

“Is it okay if i stay the night aunty?” Felix quips before she completely disappears and you make a face.

“What? No wa-”

“Of course you can sweetheart! Our home is your home~ I’ll call your mom and tell her.” You gag. Your mom always adored Felix and there was nothing you could do about it.

“You know, sometimes I get the inkling that my mom loves you more than she loves me. She coos sweetheart at you and calls me by first name, like what is up with that.” You huff once she disappears out into the hallway. Felix turns to you, a proud look in his eyes, “Of course she loves me more. Have you seen this face?” He makes a sickeningly cute face but fails to get his point across due to the layer of flour covering it. You only roll your eyes and throw a wet towel at his face.

“Get to cleaning, flour boy.” You snicker at your joke.

“You’re really not funny.”

You both move through the kitchen, wiping down the countertops and floor with the occasional quips of disgust over the mess you made. Covering spilt egg heavily with salt did, surprisingly, help get rid of it as you came to find out, but patting Felix on the back for his ‘pro-tip’ and boosting his ego was not something you were up for.

“Why are you sleeping over, by the way? It’s been ages.” You aggressively wipe the dried up chocolate on the top shelf- how it managed to get there was still a mystery to you.

“Precisely! The last time we did, it was winter break,” He scrubs at the burnt crumbs that melded themselves on the baking tray, “It’s only fitting that I take refuge in your humble abode for a few days, so that I can kidnap you and make you stay over at mine’s.” He grins at you and you chuckle.

“I have to see you everyday this summer, don’t I?”

“You can count on it, baby.” He winks

You whine at his pet name, “Stop calling me baby- do you know how many people think we’re an item?” You finish up cleaning, walking over to the sink to wash your hands. “I swear, so many people at school are convinced we’re dating and I can’t help but want to vomit each time.” You lean onto the counter next to him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Oh shut up,” He scoffs and shrugs. “Besides, we both know that I’m single, and you’re a wild beast incapable of love.” He jokingly cups your cheek and pouts and you smack him on the arm.

“Okay okay I’m sorry, stop assaulting me geez.”

“So are you feeling Jaws or Clueless tonight?” Felix holds up the two DVD’s in his hands and contemplates, shaking his damp hair from out of his face. You had just come out of the shower, taking longer than expected as a result of having to scrub out a myriad of baking ingredients from your body and hair. Dressed in your grizzly bear onesie, you wanted nothing more than to cuddle up in your sheets and knockout. But clearly Felix had other ideas.

He sat at the foot of your bed, shuffling through your Dad’s old DVD collection in attempt to pick out a movie with your hoodie on. Well, it wasn’t exactly your hoodie per se; it was his that he had left a couple sleepovers ago and you had officially claimed domain over it, refusing to give it back. But it was so soft and warm and cuddly, how could you let it go?

“Just pop in any.” You said and flopped onto the bed on your stomach.

“That does nothing to help me.” He looks up at you and you shrug. “Jaws it is then.”

You scroll on your phone while he shuffles through your room, turning off the lights and lamps before making his way towards your bed.

“Jesus Christ!” You wheeze out when you feel his weight on top of you. He had jumped onto your body, smothering you into your bed and you wanted to rip the freckles right off of him one by one. Gruesome? Yes. Necessary? Absolutely.

“Your hair smells nice.” He giggles into the back of your head and you squirm.

“Get off of me!” He pouts and rolls over next to you.

“Forgive me for wanting to be affectionate.” He huffs.

“So your definition of affection is doing a WWE smack down?”

“We’re all a little different, okay!” You snort at him. How you managed to put up with him was a mystery and a half.

After constant uncomfortable shifting on your bed with a few kicks at each other here and there followed by a “Is this my bed or yours?” “Practically mine, since I picked it out for you.”, you both settled comfortably in your sheets with him sprawled out horizontally while you used his tummy as a pillow. Try as you might, but you couldn’t help but feel the muscles on his abdomen.

“Someone’s been going to the gym.” You poke at his middle and he giggles, “That tickles!”

His fingers run through your hair instinctively, combing through the tangles and layers and massaging your scalp. You hum at the feeling.

You two definitely had your shared moments of chaos with each other daily, but you forgot how nice it was to not want to slit his throat every time he opened his mouth.

“I’m glad you’re here this summer, fefe.” You say sleepily and he chuckles.

“Just say you’re in love with me and get it over with.” You pinch his sides.

It had been so long since you last spent your summer together. It was always either him travelling outside the country with his family or vice versa the last few years, and he was glad that he got to keep you all to himself this time, even if he wouldn’t admit it. High school was breezing by too fast and sooner or later you both would have to part ways, so he convinced himself that it was okay to be selfish this time.

“Do you think we could go see a sunrise soon?” You mumble drowsily into his middle. His fingers moving through your hair was doing wonders to lull you to sleep, but you weren’t complaining.

“Anything you want.” He replies sleepily.

“And maybe learn surfing and get .”

He smiles down at you, “Sure thing, baby.”

a/n: god, i wanted this to be a oneshot so bad but lord knows i wouldn’t be able to put it out for months if it were. so here’s another multi-chapter fic from me- no bullet points this time n better slow burn (hopefully) :) stick around for more <3

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