#ft oc inside joke

[deadheadgully]

rugly expressions while i figure out what im gonna do with herrr

[pixelrhys]

They pourt wader on him :(

[lovieku]

MOTHERFUCKIN’ TRAIN WRECK! ⋆ 정국

𐙚 if you were my boyfriend… and you were my girlfriend…

when renowned fuckboy jeon jeongguk catches feelings, he loses his mind. only when it comes to you, though.

based on this ask

from the grande series ୨ৎ

pairing: fuckboy!jk x fem!reader

genre: fwb au

warnings: small smutty moments (cunnilingus, fingering, tiny boob play), angst, fluffi maybe idk, whipped and jelly koo, ft. namjoon!!!, oblivious oc, deep down she feels it too but jk is simply too much of a simp so it doesn’t look like it at first, he’s also so petty and sassy, jokes about ending it if oc doesn’t give him a chance </3, he’s just a little shit, peep the lyrics from boyfriend hehe, oh btw happy ending!!!

word count: 18k

a/n: wowww i’m so sorry for this pile of nonsense, it’s so bad i vomited a little in my mouth. i hate every single thing about it but i didn’t wanna leave you guys starved. i love u sm and thank u for the support, but u’re allowed to leave hate asks for what u’re about to read rn ❤️ also i’m SO SORRY for being unable to write a jungkook who isn’t a simp

🏷️ perm taglist: @ceellliiinee @jaytheatiny @dolligguk @luvismenu @theyloveyams @stillwjk-channie-lixie @bookstoread199 @girlygguk @vieviela @myngiii @angelxkoo @nnybtitts08 @mpbrinkss @https-mei @lyywst @mhdelu @apobangpogirlyyy @khadeeeeej @awrkive

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Jeongguk was only supposed to clean you up. That’s what he calls it when his angelic face finds its place between your spread legs, sinful eyes locking with yours, paired with a smirk you can hardly ever survive.

After all, he’s a man of simple devices. Why bother fetching a towel when he can use his own mouth? When he can let his tongue lap at your juices, slurp every last trace, have an excuse to taste you again, and again, and again?

It’s barely even effective as a way to clean you up, of drying the slick mess that sticks to your inner thighs from cumming three times under his merciless doings— you both know that. Then, how does he expect you not to break a fourth when he runs his wet muscle so torturously along your slit, getting ever more soaked?

Jeongguk is not really trying to end the night. He’s drawing it out. He already had you unraveling in phases— first on his fingers, then all over his cupid lips, ending with you convulsating just another time around his thick length.

It was rough, left purplish marks of his harsh hold digging into your sides, a faint trace of a forbidden hickey just under your collarbones, where you can easily hide it.

In all fairness, he couldn’t help it.

It was you who provoked him. You always do, getting under his skin, teasing him about his skills, downgrading them with playful indifference and nothing more than a meh, as Jeongguk rasps in your ear, clearly affected by your session of foreplay when asking, “Does this make you feel good?”

You’ll be sent straight to hell for lying like that, with seemingly no remorse, but you’re unable to resist the dangerous game and the familiar thrill that comes from it. Nothing compares to the dark wave that takes over his hooded eyes, his motions ever more intentional, almost overwhelming.

He moves to prove something to you, to show you there’s no one quite like him, even with all the guys in your phone, on your lips, inside your sheets.

Jeongguk is your fuckbuddy, and your friend on top of the rest. So, when he first laid his lips on yours, the bottom line plumper than his cupid’s bow, it had taken a great amount of alcohol to flow through both of your veins and blur the lines, let instinct take over.

From there, it was like you couldn’t help yourselves; the physical attraction was undeniable, it’s what brought you here in between the mess of his bed. If you ignore the silly crush you had on him during the first year of college, this was perfect.

Your fuckbuddy contract (Jeongguk hates calling you that, he prefers my friend who makes me cum a lot) includes a heavy emphasis on a no-strings-attached relationship, that can be interrupted whenever one of the two feels uncomfortable, and that should not come before your friendship. On top of all, you both are not exclusive. No commitment, no jealousy. You’re perfectly free of meeting other people, fucking other people. Unless you’re going to date one of those, of course. Then, bye-bye friend who makes me cum a lot.

These rules were established almost a year ago, after your hands couldn’t help themselves from roaming hastily all over his body, pulling him impossibly closer. It was the second time you allowed yourself to feel him, following the night when he initiated things under the clouded lights of a club.

You couldn’t help it. You had been thinking of that moment for weeks now, and when you were left alone with him in his dorm room, pulse racing, it’s all your thoughts were reduced to. Kiss him, kiss him, fuck him.

You felt guilty. A friend shouldn’t be thinking of another friend like you were about Jeongguk. Especially after you promised yourself you wouldn’t let your buried crush resurface and ruin what you had built— even if the memory of that infatuation is honestly just laughable now (you would never think of dating him, pft).

But Jeongguk, ever the gentlest when it comes to you, assured you it was okay to feel as you did, because he felt it too. And was dying to touch you again. His words, not yours.

It’s only sexual. A casual, sexual relationship. Two friends who happen to find each other irresistible.

So when he reacts with a flash of competitiveness at the mere suggestion he might not be the best you’ve ever had, it’s… weird, the feeling that overcomes you. You acknowledge it for a split second, as if you’re searching to name that something inside you stirring, but before you can, it seems to make you fall apart immediately, your grip tighter, back arched, moans high-pitched.

He basks in his silent victory, in the factual demonstration that he in fact can’t be compared to all your other guys.

Except, there’s actually no other guys.

Back when this friends-with-benefits arrangement first started, you were occasionally fooling around with an older guy from campus named Mingyu. Jeongguk knew him, given that they’re in the same photography class. He was also aware of your casual fling with him. And yet, Jeongguk still kissed you. Actually, did so much more than just that.

Either way, the line has always been clear: he has no right to question who you spend time with and what you engage in, Jeongguk isn’t a saint either.

You love him, you truly do. With time, he has become one of your closest friends, and you honestly can’t see yourself getting through college without him.

But there’s no denying the fuckboy allegations, the ones that are constantly thrown at him all around campus. He is a fuckboy. It must be his easy charm, flirting as natural as breathing, tripping out his tongue with seemingly not much thought. At some point, the majority of the girls in your campus got to have their moment with Jeongguk, either because of mindless teasing or one night stands, occasionally turning into casual arrangements.

You have accepted it as part of who he is. You know his fuckboy habits haven’t magically changed when you two started fucking. He doesn’t really spend much time talking about it with you, occasionally mentioning his doings every now and then, but you don’t need to know; his friends and the people whispering in hallways and lecture halls fill in the blanks.

That is exactly why you’ve let Jeongguk believe that your sexual life is equally as busy, floods of boys from your inbox to your sheets, as if you aren’t too much of a hopeless romantic to even think of anything that isn’t exclusively monogamous.

But this isn’t the case. Jeongguk isn’t yours, you aren’t his. It’s just about sex, and you’ve accepted that. You don’t want anything more from him. You tell yourself the only reason you’re not seeing anyone else is that the idea of it makes you uneasy. That you’re more than satisfied with Jeongguk being your friend-turned-into-fuckbuddy, and you don’t need other ones.

Jeongguk is more than enough. Oh, he is.

“Fuck, Gguk. You’re gonna make me cum— Ah, shit— again.”

Your head is thrown back in his pillow, legs weakly tightening around his head nestled so close to your core, and it’s clear his goal has completely shifted from getting you clean and neat when the tip of his tongue moves to flicker on your sensitive nub, relentlessly abusing it with casual kissing and sucking.

He opens his mouth to take more of you, his wet muscle tracing your slit and teasing your entrance for— sadly —the shortest second, and the way he hums approvingly against you brings you even closer to the breaking point.

You’re a fragile mess, overstimulated from the previous orgasms but desperate to chase yet another climax, his hands roaming up to find your breast only spurring you further.

Jeongguk knows you by now, and is aware of all the subtle gestures that make you come undone under him. He knows just what to do to push you over the edge, and when to do it exactly.

You’re a sucker for dirty talk and praise, and occasionally, when the ideal situation comes, you love being degraded. It’s a side of you that only ever arises during sex, mind hazed and irrational, the delirious need for release clouding all your usually composed senses.

At first, he teased you for it. Not because he’s not as much of a fan as you are of talking during sex, but because he never pictured you to be the loud type. And you truly are.

Jeongguk pinches your nipples in hopes of you getting the message and lowering your volume, but it only makes you whine higher, your moans surely not going unnoticed by the other students in the dorm.

It can only be worse when he decides to speak against you, his voice a low, almost unintelligible growl, “Pussy’s so fuckin’ good. All mine, fuck. Want to taste your cum once again, c’mon babe. Give it to me.”

And you, always obliging and well-behaved, let go for a fourth time, hips furiously rutting against his face, his words making your surroundings spin, the way his nose would brush your sensitive nub having your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Your gasp is strained when he retreats with one last wet stripe between your puffy lips, sealing the orgasm with a kiss on your clit, and when he finds your face again there’s a cockish grin spreading across his, chin coated with your juices.

He immediately meets your mouth then, sharing your own taste, and you both moan shamelessly at the action.

Jeongguk collapses next to you, his body warm and relaxed, pulling you closer by your waist and almost making you straddle him with the force of his hold. He sighs into your hair, kissing the root of it, “You did amazing for me, pretty girl.”

A pleasant shiver runs down your spine at the praise and the pet name rolling off his tongue with ease. It’s ridiculous.

With your cheek pressed against his chest, you glance up at him through your lashes and a lazy smile threatens to take over your face, but your playful pout is more prominent, almost convincing, “I’m never letting you do that trick on me again. Next time, I’m just going to take a shower like a normal person.”

The laugh he lets out is rich and unguarded, his chest rumbling under your ear, and it makes you pull away with a mock glare, brows knitted together as you swat at his toned stomach, “Don’t laugh. I hated that.”

His dark eyes soften as they dance with amusement, the corners crinkling, and he hums, going along with your blatant lie from the way your lips struggle to contain a grin, “Oh, absolutely. You were screaming in horror, couldn’t stand it.”

“Whatever,” you mutter incoherently, standing up to escape from the inevitable loss. The slick between your thighs reminds you of why you need that shower in the first place, causing you to awkwardly wobble your way to his bathroom.

Jeongguk watches you with a lopsided smirk, stretched out on the bed, his brown hair a messy halo on the pillow, and it completes the concept he goes perfectly with, the one of a devil dressed up as an angel, even more when his voice drips with faux desperation, “Hey, come back. I need my cuddles.”

“You’ll live,” you toss back before pulling the door shut behind you and stepping into the warm embrace of the shower. The hot water stings at first, then soothes you, sliding down your skin.

Jeongguk already knows the outcome of what he’s about to do isn’t going to turn in his favor, but he tries his luck regardless, standing up hastily and limply making his way to his bathroom door.

He only knocks twice, then puts on his best begging voice, talking loud enough to be heard over the shower, “Toots?”

“No!”

A scoff filters through the steamy air, followed by the unmistakable creak of the door handle as he steps inside. He’s relentless, voices his thoughts with the kind of logic only he would find convincing, “C’mon, we’ll save water!”

You stand with your back to him, his body wash traveling down your skin in soap bubbles, the scent filling the air, and you let your shoulders shrug. You don’t turn around. Number one, because you’ll give in. Number two, because you can hear the pout on his lips, and that’s the reason for number one.

You try your best to sound annoyed, “Jeongguk, just leave. You don’t even pay for it.”

“Our poor earth pays for it,” he quips, stepping further into the cramped space, body still bare, and that’s maybe a number three for you, “Because you wanna be so unfair to your best friend and leave him out in the cold.”

“You’re not my best friend.”

His gasp is dramatic, you even hear it echo through the tiny room, and you fight hard to contain the giggle locked inside you, but it escapes in the shape of a snort, which you quickly try to conceal by clearing your throat. You even further go with the lie, “You heard me.”

“Unbelievable. I’m kicking you out the second you’re done here,” he tries his best menacing tone, the threat barely harsh and effective, closing the door behind his back with an exaggerated thump, followed by unintelligible grumbling.

You take your sweet time in his now steamy bathroom. You shampoo twice, deliberately squeezing out a generous amount of his own fancy product in your palm, making sure the squeak of the bottle is heard through the door so he knows you’re helping yourself. His high-quality hair dryer blasts warm air over your damp hair until it’s only mildly wet. And you even rummage around his cabinet, indulging in his collection of expensive skincare creams. These little luxuries are exactly why you never pass a single occasion to shower over at his dorm room.

And the second you’re done in there, he doesn’t kick you out like he threatened. It takes a moment for him to move his attention from his phone to your figure, wrapped around in his fluffy robe, and he doesn’t even try to keep up the menacing act. Still spread on his ruined bed, his furrowed brows relax, and his lips break into a grin. He scans your face, then giggles, “You’ve got a massive pimple on your forehead.”

“Fuck you. I’m taking one of your hoodies.”

“It’s called borrowing,” even in the midst of checking out your freshly-washed naked body, now being stripped from his bathrobe, he’s still committed to the game of banter you two always play.

“It’s not if I’m not giving it back,” you counter, voice muffled by the fabric of one of his many black sweatshirts you’re already pulling over your head, quickly shuffling into your jeans, helping them up with some small hops that make him grin.

He doesn’t seem bothered by your comeback, too used to losing his own clothes to your closet; rather, he watches you move with what seems like hurry around his dimly lit room. He shifts higher, letting the sheets slip to reveal his still bare, and slightly sweaty torso, “Wanna hang out together at the party tomorrow?”

”Hmm, I’ll just see you there,” you don’t pay him much attention, using your phone camera as a mirror to wipe away any smudged mascara under your eyes. “I’ve already got a partner, actually.”

Jeongguk fully sits up now, vision a little blurry from the hasty and sudden movement, phone forgotten, “A partner?”

The way you casually let a smile tug at your lips while talking about a man is new, “Yeah. A guy from my English class asked me to go with him. He’s pretty cute.”

You’re too busy shoving your belongings in your bag and mentally cataloging every single item to notice the expression your best friend is currently sporting, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. Tank top, makeup, laptop… where the fuck is— oh, here. Lip balm. What else?

Jeongguk thinks you’re forgetting something deathly important. A fucking explanation, maybe? He’s known you to occasionally fool around with random guys, but he thought it was just that. Occasional and random. When did it get to having a partner? That sounds silly. Or maybe a little too formal, a little too real. What the fuck does having a partner even entail?

You’re blissfully unaware of the stubborn storm taking over Jeongguk’s thoughts, especially because you’re not exactly sparing him a second glance, moving with single-minded focus, hurrying to leave. Because apparently it’s so bad to want to spend the night with your best friend. Share a bed, watch a movie, talk gossip (it’s been so long since you’ve updated him the way only you can about the latest campus stories, ugh). Amazing, yes, that’s totally fine with Jeongguk.

And he does manage to sound unbothered, “What’s his name?”

“Namjoon.”

Jeongguk focuses on your slim fingers slipping your lip balm into the front pocket of your bag, syllabes leaving his lips in a slow mumble, “Ah, Namjoon. I know him. I guess.”

Fucking Kim Namjoon. Of course he knows him. 6 feet tall, polite, model student Kim Namjoon. Shit. Great choice. No, really, he’s the perfect catch.

“Hm? Well, I think he’s very nice. And hot as fuck.”

He grimaces, “Gross.”

“You’re one to talk,” pulling the hood over your head, you finally meet his eyes. You’re completely oblivious to the thoughts gnawing at him, so you think his disappointment is only caused by your next words, “I should get going now.”

“What? You’re not staying over for dinner?” The way he looks up at you with doe, puppy-dog eyes almost makes you trip on your own resolution, but you only ruffle his hair from your stance next to his bed, hoping the small action is enough to satisfy your hunger. Not for dinner.

“Nah, sorry Gguk. Gotta get up early for English class.”

He scoffs, moving stubbornly from your soothing touch, “Sure. English class with Joohyuk.”

“…Namjoon.”

“Right, that’s what I said. Namsun.”

You raise an eyebrow, half-laughing, “No, it’s Namjoon.”

“Namgi.”

“Namjoon.”

“Whatever, don’t care.” The words have barely any space to roll out through his pout, and along with his petty little slip-ups it’s the most childish act you’ve seen him pull so far. To be completely honest, he seems to break a new record every other day.

You fight the urge to roll your gaze at the ceiling, finding it impossible to deal with pouty, hungry and cuddle-starved Jeongguk. You sigh, muttering, “Insufferable.”

“Give me a kiss, brat.”

The teasing comes so naturally that for a second you don’t ponder on the demand being something a normal friend wouldn’t exactly ask. But it isn’t one you’ll deny.

You bend down to meet him as easily as he let the request out, muttering a playful Oh, I’m the brat now? before brushing his pushed lips with yours in a sweet, short kiss, enough to draw a soft sigh from both of you. You hum against it, voice warm with something that contradicts your words entirely, “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“Sure,” rolling your eyes, you grant his cocky figure that little win, too tired to put up a fight, even if you almost rethink it when he confidently leans back against the pillows, smirking up at you. You decide to cut it short, it’s for the best, throwing your bag over your shoulder as well as one last look at him, before readying yourself for the walk of shame through his frat.

────୨ৎ────

Namjoon is, by all standards, the perfect guy. He’s genuine, smiles sweetly with his dimples showing and his eyes crinkling into crescents that make him seem both wise and youthful.

Careful, even protective over you, making sure you’re comfortable. With your drink, with your seat, with your conversation.

Almost too attentive, which should calm your nerves, but instead you feel yourself unable to fully let go. Open up to him like he’s doing with you, like you think you want to do.

You’re not sure. You can’t feel that mysterious spark everybody talks about. That spark Jeongguk admitted he’s never felt with anyone so far, no matter the number of girls he’s been with. The one he’s confessed he’s desperate to feel. The one you hope he can find.

Wait, why are you thinking about Jeongguk?

Said boy has yet to acknowledge you, standing across from you in the crowded living room of your mutual friend’s house. Each weekend, the same ritual brings you back here, whenever Taehyung’s parents head off for one of their rich-people, luxurious trips. The space is familiar, a backdrop to countless parties, all too often ending in someone’s drunken confessions and stolen kisses that’d become the talk of campus until the next party came around.

As tradition would want, with the clock ticking its way past midnight, you’d be drunk out of your mind already. Tonight, however, you’re not even sure you want to be here.

Namjoon is keeping close tabs on your drinks, monitoring each glass you reach for, and you know he means well; ordinarily, you’d find it sweet, endearing even. But it only seems to heighten your anxiety now. It just reminds you of how out of place this whole thing feels. You want to drown your awkwardness in a wave of liquid courage, and the irony isn’t lost on you: the very reason why you’re nervous is keeping you from numbing it.

Namjoon makes you way too aware of yourself. You wish your first proper hang out wasn’t at a filthy frat party, the blasting music causing you both to lean into each other to make conversation. The proximity makes your palms disgustingly clammy, and you hope he doesn’t reach for your hand.

You also think this isn’t the type of scenario that best suits Namjoon. You would have loved to be with him somewhere softer, with less noise and more light, talking over coffee instead of loud techno, his poetic speech lulling you into infatuation. Maybe then, this would have gone like you had imagined it might. Like you wanted it to go, just to prove something to yourself. You’re still not sure what exactly.

But this house — this party — is a natural habitat for people like Jeongguk. It’s a playground he navigates with ease, his charisma amplified by the darkened rooms and faint cigarette smoke that seems to follow him, just like everyone around him. They exist solely to orbit his mood.

It’s as he saunters back inside after yet another smoke break that you spot him again, his focus entirely on whatever girl is currently at his side. With Namjoon leaving to grab a drink for the two of you to share, you take the short moment to be a shameless creep and study your friend’s movements from the other side of the room.

You can’t help but feel a sting of irritation. Jeongguk is fully aware you’re here. You’d texted him earlier, just something casual to say you’d arrived, maybe even expecting him to meet you or give you a quick wave. Instead, there’d been no reply.

Just like the TikToks you’d sent last night, after you told him you wouldn’t be staying over at his, that also went ignored. You didn’t think too much of it, figured it was probably one of his petty acts. You aren’t any better: it’s not like you’ll go up to him to say hi, not after he ignored you. Those videos were funny, too. He’s the one missing out.

But now, your eyes squinted to try and get the best possible view on each detail of the scene in front of you, what you notice is nothing about him and everything about who he’s currently spending the time he could have used to acknowledge you with.

It’s not just whatever girl. It’s Haeun.

You haven’t seen them hanging out together in what feels like months, and frankly, you’re thrown. Maybe that’s also the reason why he suddenly had no time for you. You scoff.

You’re just confused, really. Jeongguk didn’t mention a thing about her, and it’s not like he’s ever kept his hookups or flings a secret. But Haeun was never just that. She was the one he seemed almost ready to get in his first serious relationship with, the one girl you thought could make him forget all about his usual habits.

When Jeongguk had first started hanging out with Haeun, he’d seemed uncharacteristically interested. You naturally found yourself rooting for him, hoping he’d take a leap and start something real after many failed attempts.

At that point, your casual arrangement with him had been going on for a while, but you knew it wasn’t built to last. You’d expected it to end sooner rather than later, and you were okay with that. You just wanted him to be happy with himself and his choices.

But on the night he was supposed to take Haeun out on a date, the one that could have changed everything, it’s like a magic vacuum turned on and sucked all his progress away. He’d shown up in front of your door instead. No explanations, no details about what had happened; he didn’t want to talk. He only wanted to be near you and sink into silence.

That night you laid next to him, his head on you, hair sprawled out on your stomach, and said absolutely nothing.

Since then, he hadn’t mentioned Haeun at all, and you’d assumed it was over. The right side of your brain was irrationally glad for that, greedily geeking at the prospect of still getting to keep Jeongguk close in ways that go over a simple friendship. In ways that have you thanking God for not taking your friend’s sex skills away from you; in ways that have your nose scrunching whenever he leaves small, delicate pecks on the side of your neck as you watch a movie cuddled in his embrace. If he had decided to go on that date, you would be denied all of this luxury.

The left side of your brain is a little less greedy, a little more rational. The half of your mind responsible for keeping some logic instilled in you even thought it could have been a good thing for Jeongguk to experience a different side of relationships.

You’ve always sensed there to be deeper reasons beneath Jeongguk’s carefree front. You’ve watched him jump from girl to girl, dip in and out of flings with seemingly no thought, as if he’s not trying to bury issues he should find a different answer for, to avoid whatever insecurities he’s run too far away from to face.

He’s never had to spell it out for you. You never pressed him on the topic either. And you think he’s grateful for it, for your silence that offers him the stability he won’t admit he needs, for simply staying and understanding. For allowing him to be vulnerable.

You wish you could give him more than that quiet comfort. Wonder if you should try your luck and push him to see that he does deserve something real— more than the distractions he uses to keep his fears at bay.

Jeongguk would make an incredible boyfriend. He always spots the small details, the slight changes in your mood, and he picks them up before you can even notice yourself, caring in a silent way that doesn't go unnoticed. Not by you.

It’s easy to imagine him being the kind of partner who’d cater to his girl’s needs effortlessly, even in quiet, even if hidden. You know he could be that person if he could just let anyone in beyond sex. When he’ll find the one, it’ll be clear it’s all he was made for.

Right now though, if anyone were to ask you that, you’d advise them to just go and look for another one, because he’s a little, lying piece of shit. You’re just a tad bit upset about it, if your crossed arms and furrowed brows are anything to go by.

You don’t understand why he’s now there, standing next to the girl he himself stood up, the one he looked ready to fix everything for, and then wasn’t. Leaning in close as if nothing had ever happened.

Why couldn’t he tell you, at least give you a heads-up if he was reconnecting with her? You know it shouldn’t bother you as much as it does, but the fact that he’s hiding it stings. Are you overthinking this?

When he lifts his head from her ear and scans the room, his eyes landing right on yours for a brief second just to look away, you don’t think you are. His attention shifts back to Haeun as if he hadn’t seen you at all. What the fuck?

You question what’s the point of having eyes to see when you are now forced to witness Jeongguk leaving the room with Haeun hanging her draggy weight on his arm, his smile cockish as he helps her up by her waist, fingers digging dangerously close to the curve of her perfectly shaped peach.

Their chemistry is undeniable, hands finding skin with unpracticed ease. It must be the way Jeongguk can effortlessly work his charm with any girl he deems attractive enough to fuck, his smirk and the way he lets his nose scrunch almost timidly, as if you can’t see right through him, making women potty in his sculpted hands.

The prospect of your best friend getting laid by the girl he was almost ready to change it all for should make you happy. Smile, at least.

Instead, you frown, mindlessly taking long sips from the straw in your glass and letting it stir your too watered-down cocktail that lacks any real flavor. You don’t even try to find answers as to how another drink landed right on the counter you rest your back on, but you’re glad for it.

You’re more upset at the fact that he decided not to tell you anything. You would have helped him through it, supported him, advised him on what to do, how to move in such a situation. But even if he didn’t need any of this, you would have appreciated just knowing. From him.

The ways in which the two of you are intertwined right at this moment don’t exactly allow him to completely leave you unaware of his actions. It’s not fair.

But then, are you even supposed to feel like this in the first place? Is only sex supposed to have this impact on you? Is even the smallest cell in his brain producing a thought that might take him back to you, and could it compare to a third of what you think and feel?

Does he not get that tingly sensation with you, ‘cause he’s used to it? ‘Cause you’re nothing too different nor special from all the choice he has laid at his feet, nothing out of the usual routine?

A gentle hand on your arm jolts you out of your thoughts. The touch is delicate, but the way it pulls you from your spiral is rough, making you stumble on the already wobbly stool you’re sitting on. When you look to your side, Namjoon meets you with a warm smile.

You hadn’t even noticed him being back next to you, and you figure that’s probably how that drink found its way in your hands. You’re a deer caught in headlights as you look at him, then down at the almost empty glass, then back at the boy. Your eyes widen impossibly more, and you struggle with finding a louder volume to your voice, almost fading with the music, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to finish this all by myself.”

You remember him saying he’d get a drink for the two of you to share before leaving you with your haunting thoughts. He just laughs in a way that should soothe your nerves, but it doesn’t, “It’s okay. You look like you needed it. I’m getting another one for me and catching up with some of my friends over there. I’ll be back in a bit, alright?”

“Yeah, totally. No problem,” your words roll out your tongue in a slurred hurry, face already turning to the opposite side of the room, and you’re not even sure what you’re agreeing on. You just feel Namjoon slip away from the seat next to yours again.

The brief interaction was enough for Jeongguk to have time to completely disappear from your strict observing, and just like the boy who should have had your undivided attention tonight, he equally slips away. From your vision, from the party. And from you. He’s with Haeun now, after all. And you’re alone.

Being truthful, Jeongguk is once again slipping away from his problems only. He doesn’t know how he ended up with Haeun by his side, but when he found your big, confused eyes in the midst of what should have been his escape for the night, he thinks he could name a few reasons.

It’s suffocating, the grip you have on him. He can almost feel one of your slim, delicate hands around his throat. He’s a dirty little sadist, of course he enjoys the pain. But he shouldn’t, so he runs from it until his back hits the wall, and the hold only gets tighter.

There’s nothing to do but face the truth. And you’re in front of him, eyes lost and inviting him to tell you. What should be easy for him to say, what he owes you. But the words get stuck in his throat, right where you’re pressing, and he feels like he might stop breathing.

He could die like this, with your narrowed orbs pitying him, and he badly wishes you would call him a coward. The hold is just enough to hurt him, not to make him lose his senses; if anything, it only makes his head spin around the one thought he wants to avoid. You.

With the quickest distraction he could get his hands on, he keeps adding to it: Haeun clinging to his side, he steps out the packed room to light the nth cigarette, the smoke clouding his vision and making the image of you fade from behind his eyelids. You release your hand from him and disappear. He almost whines. He misses you already. But the faint ache is a reminder.

Instead, in front of him is the only girl he should have truly avoided. Haeun is another reminder. Not because she looks similar to you, you’re way prettier. You’re beautiful.

No, it’s just because he remembers Haeun being his first victim, using her to bury something stronger growing inside him. But it didn’t work then, and it doesn’t work now.

She’s the only girl he tried his luck with to avoid his now unavoidable feelings for you. Then, he physically couldn’t touch another woman beside you. So he started flirting with more cigarettes and alcohol. Maybe some joints then and there.

Jeongguk would love to know why he prefers destroying himself rather than just be the confident man he lets everyone else think he is, go up to you and be honest, like you make it so easy for him to be. The fact that it almost slipped out of him more than a couple times scares him.

It shouldn’t. He wants to fall into that soothing caress, but could he even handle the possibility of you simply, and rightfully if you deemed it the correct choice, rejecting him?

The answer is no. He can’t afford losing your touch on him, your lashes fluttering when you look up at him, your fingers tracing secret maps on his back. He wonders if you’re outlining the safest ways for him to escape from the maze he himself created, of which he forgot the exit to.

With Haeun pressing herself to his side, he thinks he’d rather stay trapped there at this point. A maze built by lies, letting you believe he’s fucking other girls on the side when he feels sickened just by the thought of it, his hand now coming up to push the girl back to a safe distance. Built by insecurities, preferring having you think that you’re simply one of the many he has when he firmly believes you’re the only one that the universe has especially assigned him to.

It’s making him lose his mind, while you live unaware, free from the truth. He’s sure in the stretch that went from yesterday, when you told him about your fucking partner, and tonight, seeing you so close to said partner’s face, your dress custom-made by the hands of every angel populating heaven, Jeongguk developed some kind of clinical illness. The flame of jealousy in his toned tummy has eaten him whole.

And he feels slightly ashamed of himself knowing this is how he found himself circling back to his first poor attempt at running away from you, in the form of a short girl, her eyes now questioning him just like yours had done earlier. Haeun furrows her brows, “Are you seriously doing this again?”

Jeongguk sighs, glancing away to take a long drag from his cigarette that fills his lungs and almost aches. He avoids the eye contact that would be needed for a conversation like the one he’s forced to have — one that wouldn’t have occured in the first place if he could just be a normal person — instead he looks back to the room through the glass doors, “I’m sorry, Hae. I— I can’t do this—“

“Yo, Gguk. You need to come with me now. ___ is throwing up in the bathroom.”

It’s Taehyung sliding the glass door open with more force than what he usually puts, and right now nobody would tell he’s the same one always advising his friends to be delicate with it. The look on his face is panicked and it quickly reflects in Jeongguk’s eyes, flickering between his friend and Haeun.

Next, his reflexes are quicker. He steps inside the house, skipping past Taehyung and the flood of college students dancing their Friday away to Usher and seemingly not caring about the urgency written all over his expression.

He makes it to the bathroom where people have started to crowd around as if lining up to an unmissable show, and he doesn’t care if his pushes are too rough as he makes his way through.

You’re quite literally hugging the toilet, your face one with the lid as a few girls try and help you with your hair. The moment they see Jeongguk, it’s like they know he’s the one that you need, that he’s finally here and you’re in good hands. He shoots them a quick nod as they step aside and then, he’s immediately crouching next to you, gently gathering your long locks into his fist.

He moves some stray strands behind your ears while you keep letting it all out, and as much as his broad back is enough to hide you from watchful eyes, he can still hear murmurs from onlookers.

It’s as Jeongguk is debating whether he should cuss them out or keep his attention on you that Taehyung comes to promptly clear the crowd, closing the bathroom door behind him only after making sure his friend doesn’t need any more help.

Jeongguk appreciates the gesture, knowing how overwhelmed you can get in these scenarios with too many people around. Although, no matter how calm he appears for your sake, his heart races even as you seem to settle and sit on the tiled floor, your back resting against the cool wall.

You gulp down a few times, squeezing your eyes to try and ground yourself, the way you can feel Jeongguk’s hand hold the side of your leg, his thumb delicately brushing the inside of your thigh, definitely helping.

“Toots,” he whispers, face close to your own, “Hey, doll. You’re okay now, hm? What happened?” His voice is low, slow, almost scared of flowing past his lips.

When you open your eyes he’s directly in front of you, squatting down to stay on your level, and his brows are drawn high in worry.

You sniff, your voice still rough from the scratching on your throat, “Fucking— Jimin. I met him in the kitchen and we mixed too much shit together—“

“Weren’t you with Kim Namjoon?” Jeongguk interrupts you, both his tone and the way his eyebrows now dip inquisitive.

You shrug, looking down at your fingers fidgeting, “Dunno. Why the fuck am I still not sober,” the way you tone the question doesn’t make it sound like one, and you end up giggling at yourself, hiccuping in the process.

Jeongguk sighs, unconsciously tightening his hold around your leg, his fingers digging and making you whimper subtly. He notices, soothing the skin only to take both his hands to scoop you up by your armpits, lifting both your bodies on your feet.

You yelp, throwing your weight on him with another one of your senseless chuckles, looking up at his bothered face through your lashes. He straightens your posture with wide palms on your waist, throwing one of your arms around his shoulders and causing you to step out of the small room on your tiptoes. He grumbles, “I’m taking you back to the dorm now. And we’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

“Talk about what?”

“Namjoon.”

You stay quiet as the both of you, your body snug against his, walk through the party and out the house to reach Jeongguk’s car. Your thoughts are sluggish, failing to grasp why he’d even want to talk about Namjoon. Isn’t he just a nice guy? You’re more concerned with Jeongguk’s seemingly irked tone and the distressed way his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek.

A soft, involuntary whine escapes you when you think you might be the reason for that, shuffling yourself closer into his warmth, but the contact is brief as he gently settles you into the passenger seat and clicks the belt, then he closes your door and circles the car to the driver’s side.

Awkward. The only sound that can be heard is the soft hum of the engine, beside the fuzzy buzz in your ears. You feel laughter bubbling up in your chest but you hold it there, turning to study Jeongguk’s side profile. Inhaling, you start, “Can you— can I put on—”

“No.”

Your smile falters, “What? C’mon, give me the aux.”

“The last thing I want right now is to listen to those songs.”

Any previous tipsy instinct that made you want to laugh at the situation fade with his words and the way his grip on the steering wheel says more than what he’s letting on. You’re hazy, but his clenched jaw and laser focus on the road make you sit up straighter, adjusting your slouched posture and the skirt of your dress with it, pulling it further down your thighs.

The tension coming off him feels so heavy that it leads to irrational, childish tears pricking your eyes, and you sound defeated when you whisper, “Are you mad at me?”

He brakes a little too hard at the red light, and you both lurch slightly forward. Jeongguk seems to realize just now that he’s unfairly taking his anger out on you, and the way you let out the question in the smallest voice makes his heart speed up, turning to you with apprehension, “No, toots. No, why would I be? I’m mad at that fucker.”

“He was just talking with some of his—”

“He left you alone. He was supposed to take care of you. Not let you get fucking wasted.”

Jeongguk sounds final, his tone allowing no more condoning nor excuses for the tall guy now left behind you, back at the party. But you don’t seem to focus too much on the meaning of his words, rather you bask in the consequences of them. He’s not upset with you!

That spurs you to contradict him further, this time on the accusation he threw at you, but it’s less than credible when you say it through a sheepish smile that unconsciously made its way on your lips at the protective edge to his tone, “I’m not fucking wasted.”

Jeongguk only sighs, but you can see him visibly relax, shoulders going down and leaning against the back of his seat, right hand coming to pat your bare knee with a small smile on his pierced lips.

You share a look that fully sobers you up only to get you high all over again off his doe eyes, the artificial lights dotting a universe of their own in those orbs, undiscovered galaxies and planets inviting you to move there, even with no water, no oxygen, no way of surviving.

When the soft hue of the red light reflecting on the side of your face morphs to green, he moves his attention back on the road, taking his hand with it to shift gears. Then, he concedes, “Put on the playlist.”

You blink, a little taken aback by his sudden shift in mood, but just as quickly you recover. Your brain seems to be able to focus on one thing at a time either way, so you don’t ponder on your insides collectively moving at the way he looked at you and instead reach for the aux cord, fingers tapping on your phone screen absentmindedly, with a conscience of their own.

Music interrupts the quiet, and you can’t help but join, “The night we met I knew I, needed you so. And if I had the chance I’d, never let you go. Sing with me!”

Jeongguk breaks into a grin, no matter how much he fights it, “You’re so fucking wasted.”

“So won’t you say you love me? I’ll make you so proud of me. We’ll make ‘em turn their heads every place we go, so won’t you please,” Be My Baby by The Ronettes fills the previous silent tension, which you seemingly already forgot everything about, using Jeongguk’s free hand as your own personal microphone, folding it in a fist between your palms.

Jeongguk would never say it out loud, especially now, after he only pretended he had to be begged to put it on, that he’s actually grown attached to this playlist. Started as a little mishap and turned into something that got under his skin, much like you have.

Its creation came about from a comically embarrassing moment that gave you ammunition to tease him for weeks. Although, he’s glad for it when he reflects deep enough: the whole episode helped shape the bond between you two, adding to its foundation.

He still doesn’t know how you managed to slip so sneakily into his dorm that evening, but what’s sure is that he wasn’t expecting you, taking the time of his life in his bathroom, fresh out of the shower. Simply following his usual routine, one that you wouldn’t have exactly considered usual since you only ever knew him as an avid Drake listener, he hummed along to Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love flowing softly from his phone speaker.

It wasn’t just that, of course, because then he started styling his wet hair in an exaggerated pompadour and fully got into character, strutting dramatic poses in front of the mirror and even practicing Elvis’s iconic curl of the lip. If his soul was by any chance watching over the scene, you’d hoped he’d agree with you that Jeongguk was truly giving Austin Butler a run for his money.

The private show sadly ended when he caught sight of you in the foggy glass, your lips sealed shut to try and hold your delighted laughter, but it got ripped out of you in the form of an obnoxious snort the moment his eyes went wide in horror and his face crimson in shame.

It was hell for a few weeks after that. You didn’t let him off so easily, teasing him for being a secret softie with a love for old-school romance under all the layers of his tough fuckboy image that only ever seemed to handle trappy beats.

When you jokingly suggested he might as well get fully into the act and start calling you toots or something, he didn’t back down from the tease, scoffing at you with narrowed eyes. Somewhere along the way, the dry, sardonic tone with which he first used that pet name on you stuck, and it became less of a joke, more of an endearing way to refer to you, and only you.

Before either of you could second-guess it, the playlist was born. You two crafted it together in fits of laughter and late-night texts, with Jeongguk suggesting songs from his secret stash and you contributing the ones you grew up on.

It quickly became the soundtrack to many of your aimless car rides, something that neither of you acknowledged outright but silently cherished. Sometimes, you’d get so carried away and slip into the roles of a ‘60s couple, playfully reciting cheesy lines back and forth.

No matter how much Jeongguk pretends he hates it to save what’s left of his bad boy reputation, he really doesn’t. Not even a little bit. Even the way he rolls his eyes and groans isn’t enough to hide the spark in his eyes when you sing along.

He feels worse than a pubescent teenager when he lets his guard slip to hear you hum words he can only imagine are just for him, meant in the way he wants. You swing side by side and smile up at him with dimples digging long slits into your cheeks, and he has to act as if it makes him feel completely normal and not like he’s going to crash his car any second.

Each lyric that spills from your mouth feels like it’s tying him down, even with your sweet voice a little unsteady, thanks to whatever is still left from the night’s drinks. You’re so not aware of what it does to him.

Your eyes are on the road, but Jeongguk’s linger on you, his fingers unconsciously tapping the steering wheel to the tune.

“I’d save every day like a treasure, and then, again, I would spend them with you.”

Jeongguk purposefully veers off onto streets he doesn’t need to take, buying himself a few extra minutes with you, but you don’t notice and he pretends to not know either. Would never admit it’s because he wants to hear you sing a little more, and that this ongoing joke between the two of you might be his favorite thing in the whole world.

“But there never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them. Hold on, this one’s a little lower. I’ll find my note, wait,” you’re mostly talking to yourself, cheek pressed to the cool glass of the window, but you glance at Jeongguk as if seeking for approval, clearing your throat, “I’ve looked around enough to know that you’re the one I want to go through time with.”

Just as Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce fades out, Jeongguk pulls into the campus parking lot, turning the engine off and cutting the music with it. None of you move right away, accepting the stillness in the car.

You don’t accept the silence, though, letting your mind speak a thought that has been nagging at you, “Can you fuck me here? Right now?”

The way you voice the request would make anybody who didn’t understand English think you’d just asked for something as mundane as a glass of water, your eyes unfaltering, a small smile on your waiting lips, voice barely slicing through the quiet. It’s almost as if you don’t know it’s the kind of thing that could derail Jeongguk’s entire thought process.

Jeongguk lightly chokes on his own breath, giving a few coughs before turning to you, his tattooed hand messing his hair further, “Jesus Christ, ___. You know I can’t.”

You tilt your head, considering him, as if this is a serious debate rather than drunken rambling, “Why not?”

Jeongguk can only sigh. He takes in your disheveled state and notices the way your exposed skin prickles with the cold, reaching for the leather jacket he carelessly threw on the backseats before heading to the party, having had no idea you’d be the one wearing it by the end of the night.

He wraps it gently around your shoulders, moving sticky, stray strands of hair from your face, “You’re so drunk. Look at you.”

“I told you I’m not,” you protest weakly, but your confidence falters when his fingers ghost over your face.

“There’s vomit in your hair,” he shuts you bluntly, tone softer than the honest words.

“Oh,” your stubbornness doesn’t work this time, and you’re mortified as you glance down at your lap, where his fingers fall to mindlessly play with the zip of his bomber jacket, brushing your tummy in the process. Your voice doesn’t sound so sure now, especially when each subtle graze sends small shocks through you, “That’s disgusting.”

The soft chuckle he lets out has you stealing a look upward, and when you catch his expression your slowed down brain can only come to the conclusion that maybe he doesn’t find you all that disgusting: he sports a rare, wide curve of his bunny smile, eyes crinkling when that same fondness finds its way onto your lips. You can’t help what they do next, a mind of their own as you rest them on his own mouth, the tip of his nose tickling your cheek.

It’s the faintest of kisses, and it’s delicate, fleeting, over far too soon, but you’re the one to pull back first no matter how much longer you need it to be, “That was probably disgusting too.”

As you rest your back on the seat again, his eyes are still closed, and they flutter open as slowly as a smile stretches on his mouth when he meets you. You’re giving him a look he doesn’t deserve, one he shouldn’t lean into.

His voice is a whisper, and it fans over your face, still close to his, “Not at all.”

Gleaming eyes scan every angle of you, as if trying to find anything that’ll hold him back from what he really wants to do. But, of course, his need only grows when he lets his gaze wander down, then up again.

He glances to the side with a gulp, moving his body back to reach for the car door handle, “You think you can walk or should I carry you?”

“Carry me, please,” you mumble, not even pondering on the first option, and the moment the sound leaves your lips he’s out and reaching for your side, opening your door and scooping you up like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The walk to his dorm is a blur, with you dozing off in his warmth and being lulled by the hums escaping him and reverberating through his chest, melodies of the earlier songs playing against your ear.

You regain awareness when a splash of warm water cascades over your now naked body, the sensation startling enough to make your lashes flutter against your damp cheeks. The water runs over your face, washing away the remnants of the night, the drowsy yet oddly light sensation taking over you causing a giggle to echo against the walls.

You’re still too disoriented to process the tenderness with which Jeongguk’s hand moves, brushing through your soaked strands of hair and moving them from where they flattened on your face, combing through the sticky locks.

With half-open eyes, you’re met with the sight of him in front of you, standing close enough without needing to step into the small space with you, his brows furrowed as he works the shampoo through your hair. It’s a soothing, slow motion, the one he massages your scalp with, and it only melts you further into sweet slumber.

If it weren’t for one of his hands resting tightly on your hip, grounding you as the scent of the shampoo mingles with the steam curling around you, you would have gladly swayed into his palm, letting your weak body fall into his strong one.

You sniff, leaning into his care, voice small and oddly sincere, “I’m sorry for,” hiccup, “taking you away from Haeun. You two seem close again.”

Jeongguk stills for a moment, his fingers pausing in your hair before resuming their soft motions. He pretends he didn’t hear, and you pretend you never talked in the first place when he guides you to steady yourself as your knees wobble, “Hey, stand still. You’ll get shampoo in your eyes. Close them.”

You obey, letting your eyelids drop shut as you feel his hand gently tilt your head under the spray, his touch as tender as the words he isn’t saying.

If you weren’t a victim of both sleepiness and alcohol at this very moment, your thoughts would be racing each other like eager contenders in the Overthinker Marathon, each one fighting tooth and nail for the gold medal. They’d be dissecting every little detail of the night— the way Jeongguk had ignored you, his lingering hand on Haeun’s waist, only to be there the second you needed him, the girl from earlier not even worth mentioning.

Instead, your every thinking cell has taken a rare vacation, lounging together on an imaginary green field, clinking glasses filled with leftover cocktails from earlier, lazily watching clouds drift by.

Although there’s one cell in particular, too tipsy to sit still. It hops around gleefully, urging your lips to move before the Thinking Cell General can intervene. The way it jumps up and down, up and down, makes you giggle as you blurt out, “I don’t know if it’s the water, but I’m very wet.”

The silence that follows is thick, punctuated only by the sound of water cascading down your back. Jeongguk freezes as if the words have physically reached out and yanked him into stunned stillness. He can only let his throat bob in a visible swallow and look away, warning you in a strained mutter, “___. This is your last warning. Stop teasing me.”

You whine, pathetically wiggling your weak and pliant body in his hold to seek for some kind of reaction, but he doesn’t budge. He’s uncharacteristically focused on his tasks, ensuring every trace of shampoo rinses from your hair, rather than your hardened nipples bouncing with your stubborn movements.

But you recognise the way his jaw clenches so tight it must hurt, how he refuses to let his gaze wander lower where the steam of water outlines your form. His restraint is razor-thin, yet he holds it tightly, breathing only slightly uneven.

You’re not deterred by his warning; you never are. It’s the tiny tracks in his resolve that keep you pressing forward, voice laced with a vulnerability that makes his hand twitch against your scalp, “Just… I just need your fingers. Please.”

Jeongguk exhales sharply through his nose, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he angles the spray to wash the last suds away, hyper-focused on the practical task as though it’s a lifeline to his dwindling self-control.

But you’re persistent. You reach behind you, fingers messily finding the knob to twist the water off, and with the spray halting you’re left only with the hum of the bathroom fan and the faint drip of water.

Your other hand finds his, guiding his wide palm to rest on your lower stomach, just above where your want is written in every inch of your body. You whisper, plead clear in your tone, ”You know I want this. Won’t ever regret it. I’m conscious enough to be sure of that.”

Jeongguk huffs, his chest rising and falling as he stares down at you, fingers flexing slightly against your skin. He closes his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply as if accepting defeat. He can’t win this battle.

The brown-haired boy steps into the shower, the small space shrinking even further with the addition of his broader frame, forcing you to back up against the wall. Fully dressed, water clings to his fabric, and the contrast of his damp clothes against your bare, exposed skin makes you irrationally wetter.

Jeongguk keeps silent, and at this point you don’t care how desperate you look, pushing yourself against him and getting his clothes wetter in the process. It pushes him to initiate a torturous path along your skin, using his middle finger to trace a journey from your chest, savoring the way your breath hitches, down to your warm core.

The droplets of water he collects on the way are used to spread your puffy lips and press right on your sensitive nub, making you gasp. You’re a trembling mess from the simple motion, and he has to use his free hand to steady you against the wall.

Your breasts aren’t left without being taken care of, because the moment he begins circling motions on your clit that have you seeing stars, he lowers his head to envelop one of your tits in his ravenous mouth, teeth teasing it punitively, all while looking up at you with sliced, sinful eyes.

He’s greedy, and you can’t believe he managed to hide it so well until now. But his resolve crumbles the more he revels in the way you fall apart for him, and he loses control on your chest. The sensation is sharp, delicious, and the contrast between the harshness of his bite and the softness of his tongue has you whimpering.

You’re ashamedly aware of how close you already are, his digits picking a fast speed that urges you to let go and coat him in your juices. He knows, simply from the way you let your mouth fall agape and release loud moans in the steamy air, pushing your nipples further in his swollen lips.

When he inserts one finger in your warm hole, you jolt in his secure hold, eyebrows shot upwards in the shock of your sudden orgasm, one that hits you all too harshly. It drags on deliciously, Jeongguk never wanting it to end, the slurping sound of his sucking on your tits making your surrounding spin, along with his thumb accompanying the way his single digits thrusts into you.

He only stops when you unconsciously run from his doings, slim hand wrapping weakly around his wrist, and he retreats with one last wet stripe along the curve of your boob, promptly collecting your taste from his fingers, and he thoroughly hums around them, eyes closed and cheeks hollowed.

You think you could come again from the sight alone. Panting, you smile through your ragged breaths, “Fuck. Thanks.”

Five minutes later, no one would bet you’re the same girl that begged him for his fingers and came in record time around them. Now, you sit serenely on the toilet lid, wrapped up in Jeongguk’s warmest hoodie. The oversized fabric swallows your frame, knees tucked under it as you hug them close to your chest. You look as innocent as ever.

Jeongguk stands in front of you, meticulously brushing through your damp hair with practiced gentleness, each stroke of the comb a soothing lullaby. You rest your chin lazily on your folded arms, eyes closed, the edges of sleep blurring your thoughts.

You let out a contented sigh before murmuring, words unfiltered, “You’d make the perfect boyfriend. You always take care of me. And kiss me when I need it.”

The motions of the brush stop for a fraction of a second before resuming, and what you hear next is Jeongguk’s throat clearing, his voice low and almost shaky, “That sounds so very wrong, toots.”

“What do you mean?” You don’t open your eyes as you ask the question, the warmth of his presence and the excuse of the last traces of alcohol still flowing in your tired body making you bolder than usual.

“You want me to be your boyfriend?”

“In another life, maybe. Yes,” you don’t waste time replying, words carrying a dreamy quality, “I mean, would be cool.”

“Cool?” He chuckles, but it’s the kind that’s half-exasperation and half-something else entirely, voice strained with an edge of desperation too, “God, I don’t even know why I’m still putting up with you.”

You only nuzzle closer into the borrowed hoodie, giving voice to your next thought, your thinking cells now hosting a 60s themed party, “Be my, be my baby. My one and only baby.”

The sound of your singing fades under the whirring roar of the hairdryer, and Jeongguk is quietly thankful for the way it drowns your sweet hums completely, fearing if he hears another one of those tipsy love confessions leaving your lips he might drop to his knees, undone by something he knows he can’t claim.

You rest your head against his stomach, full weight leaning on his standing figure, his long digits pulling through your strands. If you’d look up at your best friend for even one fleeting second, you’d probably laugh at the concentration on his expression, his only goal drying your hair enough to not have you waking up with a headache the following day.

You sniffle and snuggle impossibly closer to him, the heat radiating from his tummy and the white noise lulling you further into drowsiness, every careful motion of his hand coaxing you closer to sleep.

When your phone pings from the bathroom counter, the sudden buzz makes you jolt slightly. You lift your head sluggishly and gesture toward the phone, mouthing up to Jeongguk, “Pass it.”

He hands it to you without turning off the hairdryer, keeping an eye on your sleepy movements. You blink at the bright light for a moment before your expression shifts, eyes widening.

You’re completely jolted awake at the only notification on your home screen: it's Namjoon.

You tap Jeongguk’s stomach with the heel of your hand— softly at first, then with increasing urgency. The repeated motion forces him to stop the device and place it on the counter as he looks down at you, trying to peek at the screen, “What?”

You hiccup and sniff before blurting out, “Namjoon. He texted me”

The boy that was just now carefully drying your hair scoffs, arms crossed over his chest, “What does that asshole want?”

The response to the rhetorical question doesn’t come, either because you decide to ignore it purposefully or unconsciously: you look totally engulfed by the words on your otherwise empty chat with Namjoon, and Jeongguk can’t help but subtly lean his body lower to read the same texts you’re going through.

Kim Namjoon [4:26 a.m.]: Hey. Sorry for texting late, I heard from someone you threw up back at the party. I’m so sorry. I completely lost sight of you in that mess. Are you feeling any better? Very sorry again.

Kim Namjoon [4:27 a.m.]: It’s totally okay if you don’t want to hear from me again. But I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t at least try to make it up to you.

Kim Namjoon [4:27 a.m.]: I’d really like to take you out on a date. Would you let me?

Jeongguk kisses his teeth irkedly, “Why the fuck does he text like Prince William? Fucking English major,” and he truly tried his best to sound unaffected, but the words leave his mouth before he even knows he’s thinking of them.

Luckily, you don’t seem to notice, reading the message aloud like you can’t quite believe it yourself, “He said he’d like to go on a date with me. Like, he asked me on a date. And said he would like it. To go on a date—”

“Yes, we got it.”

“He doesn’t hate me, Gguk!” Once again, his petty comments go unnoticed as your face lights up, eyes crinkling with joy as you practically beam up at him.

Jeongguk wants to be annoyed, but he simply can’t when he’s met with all the stars in the universe right in your glossy, tired eyes. He swallows hard and forces a soft chuckle, “No, he doesn’t, toots. Anyone would be crazy to hate you.”

The grin on your lips only widens, nose scrunching adorably as you let your cheek sheepishly brush against your shoulder, “Oh my god, Gguk. I’m going on a date with him! Heh.”

“That’s nice,” he says, picking up the hairdryer again before your words can settle too heavily in the space between you. “I’m not finished with your hair, though. Stay still.”

The device roars to life once more, its noise filling the room and covering your excited giggles. Jeongguk keeps brushing through your hair with steady motions, his face impassive, but he feels something tighten, heavy and unyielding in his chest.

He tells himself the noise is a blessing, a shield from the silence he wouldn’t know how else to fill—or from the sound of his own voice, betraying him in ways he can’t afford.

────୨ৎ────

“I’ll miss the sex when Namjoon will ask me to be his girlfriend.”

In the quiet of the library, your sudden whisper startles Jeongguk. The chair screeches under him and it gains the both of you a few annoyed looks. He nods in apology at their way, moving closer to the table again, and he has to blink a few times before he can even meet your eyes. The scattered pens all over the white surface looked more interesting either way.

“When he— his— what?” He feels pathetic for being unable to even form a senseful sentence, but there’s no absolute way he blames his brain for that. It’s his heart, stuttering along with the barely intelligible question.

It cracks at the middle the more your grin splits your face in half, nose scrunching adorably, and he may be a horrible friend but he can’t bring himself to return your irony, nor the masked excitement under it.

If he were handed pen and paper and asked to write about how he feels right at this moment, he wouldn’t put down a single thing. Not because there isn’t anything to say. He fears your innocent teasing has done something catastrophic, snapping that one damned string that connected his brain to his heart, and the two aren’t communicating. Jeongguk is in the middle of two angered parents, fighting and on the brink of divorce. That’s what he gets for being a total pussy.

You shrug, frowning slightly when all you’re faced with is his blank expression, eyes unresponsive and detachedly looking elsewhere, but you keep yours on him, studying even the small movements, “I mean, he’s a nice guy. I think he’s serious about getting to know me.”

The word serious causes an involuntary twitch of his head, tilting almost imperceptibly to the side, and he sounds way too defensive, “And are you?”

Furrowing your eyebrows at his unexpected reaction, you return to your previous mindless doodling, keeping your voice low, “Well, he’s cute. Let’s see where this thing goes.”

“What about me?”

The question catches the both of you off guard. Your pencil halts as you glance at him through the corner of your eye, and even if you can’t see him clearly, the way his dark orbs widen is almost comical that you would laugh in any other situation. But now, the air is oddly tense and it makes your nose scrunch in awkwardness.

He breaks it with a chuckle, a subtle tremor in it that luckily goes unnoticed by you but that will probably keep him up at night for the next five years, and he lightly shoves your shoulder in an effort at feigning ease, “You really wanna pass on this dick?”

“God, you’re gross,” the annoyed roll of your eyes has Jeongguk releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding; it’s odd, but that’s just who he is.

The second you return to weightless banter, he’s back in his element. He can smirk, tease and deflect— these are tools he’s mastered over the months. But the thought of stripping naked for your eyes to see, and not in the sexual way you two engage in almost every night, terrifies him.

The waters are safe for what seems a fraction of a second before you pull him down in the deep, dark seas again, this dynamic between you foreign. While it is a simple, innocent question, your deceptive tone triggers unfamiliarity within him, “Besides, how’s it going with you and Haeun?”

“Huh? Oh. Haeun, yes,” his attempt at buying himself extra time is laughable, especially when Mr. Brain is now yelling at Ms. Heart for always wanting to get in the way of things he can handle alone, “Wonderfully. We— She— Huh, kissed me.”

Ms. Heart is furious. She has no other choice but to reach in her purse and slap the divorce papers on the dinner table, the glasses clinking against the plates, and Jeongguk flinches. Brain is speechless, clueless on how to react.

You only seem slightly taken aback, eyebrows raising in mild surprise, “Really? That’s nice.”

Jeongguk is equally clueless, subtly squeezing his eyes shut as if hoping to wake up somewhere else entirely, maybe in an ideal world where Kim Namjoon doesn’t exist and Mr. Brain and Ms. Heart are happily married.

Instead, he’s still in the library, and you’re still sitting next to him, scribbling on your English textbook. He frowns, getting pitiably lost in the view of your side profile, “Yeah, nice. Huh, when’s your date?”

When you glance up at him, you seem to be realizing just how odd it is for the two of you to spend this much time talking about your respective hook ups, and you cringe slightly at the unusual formality, wishing Jeongguk would just tease you like he usually does when you tell him about your untruthful and made up sexual adventures.

You purse your lips in thought, “Tomorrow, actually.”

“Oh. He’s going fast.”

“I like that.”

“I know you do.”

No matter the effort you put into trying to hide your amusement, a snort escapes you, and you quickly look away to recover from the childish grin spreading on your lips. You shake your head, closing the book in front of you, “You’re fucking disgusting.”

Jeongguk only smirks in an oddly proud way, nodding at your flustered state when he realizes he successfully managed yet again to shift the conversation from topics he doesn’t want to hear or talk about. He shrugs, “You just said that.”

“And I’ll say it again.”

“Whatever,” a small chuckle follows the dismissal, his hand coming to brush through his fluffy hair, getting too long for his liking, “I really wanted to see you tomorrow.”

Once again, Jeongguk is way too honest, way too easily. Ms. Heart is marching hastily with Mr. Brain walking close behind, trying to make sense of the situation and pushing her to reconsider her actions, but it’s no use: she’s tired, and sick of being walked over, again and again.

He doesn’t like the underlying meaning behind that, and wishes Mr. Brain would grow a pair and just swoon her back into love again. Jeongguk doesn’t like the genuine surprise etched across your face either, or, well, he doesn’t like the effect it has on him: it’s almost unbearable to accept that the blush dusting your cheeks, the one you’re probably unaware of, is caused by his unfiltered honesty. Because sincere bluntness isn’t exactly something he tries to show. Then, why does it spill out of him uncontrollably? Why— why do you look so beautiful like this?

“Hm,” your smile is small, but your dimple betrays it, Jeongguk’s whole resolve cracking with the way you sound dangerously decisive, “Too bad. You’re late.”

Jeongguk shouldn’t overthink this. You’re simply engaging in the usual dynamic, teasing him like always, no reason for his palms to sweat. He shouldn’t panic over the way nothing about what you said feels simple, nor usual, and your tone carries more than what you both want the words to mean.

He doesn’t know if it’s a warning or a test—or worse, the truth. Maybe he’s imagining it. Maybe Brain just misinterpreted the comment, too distracted by its constant squabble with Heart, both of them ignoring Jeongguk, who is still sitting at the cluttered kitchen table with his plate half-full, surrounded by a mess of inky emotions he doesn’t have the courage to clean up.

The sound of forks clinking against plates grates against his ears, drowning out the hurried excuses spilling from your mouth, the ones you’re babbling and making up along the way of gathering your things and standing up from the round table, shouldering your bag in the same hurry you left his room with before the next time he saw you was nose to nose with Namjoon.

You huff, giving a small, tight lipped smile that should be meaningless, but to Jeongguk it isn’t, “I’ll go now. See you around?”

“Huh, sure. Let me know how it goes with Namsun.”

You roll your eyes at the playful attempt, his grin just as empty, “Right. Bye Gguk.”

You’re off the hallway before he can add anything else. Not that he would have been able to. Your bag swings with your big steps, slim hands coming to absently tug your plaid skirt lower, and Jeongguk thinks and thinks.

He realizes he really doesn’t want to know how your little date goes. Would rather shoot himself rather than hearing you talk about another guy taking you out to dinner, stealing you from him and sealing the end to whatever the two of you have.

His options are narrowed. He either commits in front of you and forever changes the trajectory of your life or does something about Namjoon. But why does the option of ending his life sound much easier than stepping up to big, buff Namjoon, infatuated with the same girl he likes?

Oh.

The admission jolts him. It’s a physical reaction that causes his chair to shriek again under his movements, but this time he’s not polite enough to apologize for it. He must look crazy, wide eyes burning holes into his hands planted steadily on the table in front of him.

The girl he likes. You’re the girl he likes.

And every signal is there. The spark he sought for now lights a nervous feeling in his stomach, its fireworks interrupting Brain and Heart’s incessant arguing.

Does he look stupid not doing anything for the girl he likes? Not fighting for the girl he’s been falling for all this time?

────୨ৎ────

It should be easy. It is easy.

Jeongguk can’t let the sleepless night spent reciting lines to his ceiling go to waste. He’s sure not even theater kids could match his determination. And as he marches across campus toward the gym, where the squeak of sneakers and the echo of grunts will lead him to the person needed to put the plan into action, he reviews step by step what he’s told himself to do. It’s a well-rehearsed script, each word, every calculated expression—he’s gone over it a hundred times, accounting for every reaction.

Step one, be casual. Friendly, even. Approach Namjoon like there’s nothing calculated about this interaction—no ulterior motives, no scheme brewing beneath the surface. Just a casual catch-up between two guys.

“What’s up, Kim,” when Jeongguk spots the slightly taller boy exercising at a steady walking pace on the treadmill, he immediately hops onto the free one beside him.

Namjoon startles slightly, then smiles with those stupid, charming dimples of his, and it’s one that Jeongguk would probably only give if forced, “Hey, Jeongguk. Long time no see.”

The brown-haired boy nods, setting the speed and quickly catching up to Namjoon. He keeps his tone deliberately cool, even borderline disinterested, “You been good?”

On his left, your almost-boyfriend shrugs, jogging along, “Yeah, just studying, man. What about you?”

“Pretty much the same,” he hasn’t cracked open a book in weeks, and that study session from yesterday was just an excuse to be with you. But he can’t afford to let his thoughts linger on you too long or he’ll lose focus. He needs focus. “You catch that last game?”

Step two, pretend to care about what Namjoon is saying and then proceed with the acting skills only to suddenly remember something totally random he wanted to mention.

“Fuck, don’t remind me. I was so sure we would win,” the sweating man sounds way too affected by the recent football match, and Jeongguk fears if he asks one more question for the sake of pretending he’ll never get to the actual point.

So, he goes straight to it, “Yeah, it was rough. Oh, by the way. You know ___, right?”

The simple mention of your name causes a small stutter in Namjoon’s step, but he recovers with the stupid smile from earlier, only this time it’s wider, “Of course I know her. Why do you ask?”

Step three, just be honest. He just has to lay it all out. Be straightforward. Tell him the truth about how he’s felt for so long and what this whole thing with you is doing to him. It’s not a confrontation—it’s a conversation. Jeongguk will politely explain that he’s liked you for a while now, that he’s been in your life long before Namjoon, and, as a courtesy, he’d appreciate it if he would step back from pursuing you.

Civil. Calm. Totally chill. There’s absolutely nothing to get worked up over.

"You really don't know? Have no idea?" Jeongguk asks, his voice dropping, tone more pointed than he intended.

Namjoon slows his treadmill slightly, glancing over with furrowed brows and a faintly amused smile. “No, man. Enlighten me.”

“She’s my fucking girlfriend.”

What. The. Fuck.

That wasn’t the plan. Not even close to the plan.

────୨ৎ────

You feel stupid.

Wrapped around in your warmest coat, you still shiver. It could be the way your legs are exposed under your wool dress, high black boots reaching just beneath your knees. But there’s something else to the chill, making you shake in fading jitters. The excitement of the evening you told yourself you were looking forward to morphs into anxiety, and the passing looks of people mean more than they should as minutes tick and tick; they seem to glance at you for too long, their looks heavy with what you can only imagine is judgment.

A young girl swaddled in small but striking details from head to toe — delicate earrings that catch the light, a scarf knotted perfectly at the neck, polished nails clutching the strap of an expensive-looking bag, hair done up in a neat slicked bun — glancing nervously at her surroundings can only mean one thing: she’s been stood up.

Namjoon was supposed to meet you in front of the cozy cafè just outside the campus, its warm tones and surely even warmer ambience so very inviting. Maybe you’d go in, order a steaming hot chocolate for yourself, and chalk this up as a lesson learned. But instead, you chose to wait outside, shifting on your tiptoes every so often, scanning the crowd for a glimpse of the first man to ask you out in what felt like ages.

You feel as though you’ll be forever destined to wait more when thirty minutes go by and Namjoon is nowhere to be seen.

You frown, swaying on your heels. What you feel is not disappointment— not at first. But that only causes you to feel worse about yourself when you realize you’re almost relieved the tall man hasn’t shown up, and he’s not here to turn fears into even scarier realities. The date would have given a concrete meaning to your actions, and the thought stirs something not exactly pleasant within you.

The scratch at the back of your mind grows harder to ignore, and no matter how much you try to shake it off, your subconscious finds ways back to it when your hand instinctively dives into the depths of the expensive purse you had specially chosen for this occasion. A purse meant to complement your carefully selected dark ensemble— an effort that now feels entirely wasted. You spent so much time getting ready for something you’re not ready for at all.

Pulling out your phone, your thumb scrolls to Jeongguk’s number with a natural automatism, typing before you even register why he’s the first person you feel the need to tell.

You [9:39 p.m.]: hi

You [9:39 p.m.]: namjoon stood me up lol

The typing bubbles appear faster than you anticipated, and as you watch them dance across the screen, you burrow deeper into the fragile warmth of your jacket, the tip of your nose numb from the cold.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:40 p.m.]: Whattttttt????

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:40 p.m.]: He’s such an asshooooooole

Your first instinct is to snort at his reaction, a childish grin tugging at your lips, but it turns into a scowl when the more you reread the text, the more it sounds weird. He usually never texts like a six-year-old using his mom’s iPad.

You [9:40 p.m.]: yes he is

You [9:40 p.m.]: why are u textin so weird btw lol

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:41 p.m.]: Wym weirddd

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:41 p.m.]: I’m totally normal

You [9:41 p.m.]: wtv

You [9:42 p.m.]: u still wanna hang out?

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Yes please

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Want me to pick u up

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Where are u rn

The head tilt is unconscious, but you feel it click in place. You’ve mentioned how Jeongguk is caring, how he can read your needs like no one else and caters to them quietly, but he’s never this pliant, this malleable. You like him because it’s hard to get him to bend (and you’d rather die than let Jeongguk know about this).

You [9:43 p.m.]: is ok

You [9:43 p.m.]: i’ll just walk

You [9:43 p.m.]: be there in 10

The walk usually takes you less than 10 minutes, but before meeting him, you decide to head back to your dorm and change out of these stupid fancy clothes you picked out for the date.

You keep your head low as you walk through the hallways, the full glam you put on impossible to miss as it sparkles under the fluorescent lights, just as your boots' heels echo through the corridors.

Taking off the dress and heels feels like peeling away the embarrassment of rejection, the weight of disappointment settling in as you realize you couldn’t prove to yourself that you could do it, that you can do it, take the leap and let something serious into your life.

You question whether you're even cut out for it when the guy who seemed perfect ended up proving the opposite.

Now, back in more comfortable clothes — Jeongguk's black hoodie from the other day and baggy sweatpants — you feel a little more like yourself. Scared of emotions, scared of commitment, no matter how many hours of your day are spent daydreaming about it.

The second you click the door of your room open, it’s like you can smell a weird shift in the air. And you do, literally sniff, scanning your surroundings for any hint of something burning or out of place.

But it’s not about the dorm in its physical state, no— it’s the odd silence that you’re met with, the people you’re used to sharing the space with now uncharacteristically careful with their volume.

“Oh my god, ___,” that is probably why you’re visibly startled by the sudden voice coming from your side, Iseul looking like containing excitement is the hardest task she’s ever been asked to deal with, just like the few other girls behind her, all practically vibrating, “You’re finally here.”

You furrow your brows, chuckling confusedly at the unusuality of it all— well, it’s not like you don’t get along with these people. It’s just that you’ve never gone over meaningless jokes and talks about the state of the dorm, plus you’ve never exactly been the center of attention like this. It feels off, and it reflects in your uncertain tone, “I am?”

“I’m so happy for you,” Binna chimes in next, grabbing your shoulders with way more enthusiasm than the level of your relationship with her would normally allow, and the way all of their heads nod along that it feels like a coordinated performance is starting to scare you.

“You’re… happy for—”

“I’ve always known you and Jeongguk were perfect for each other,” the affection dripping from Binna’s voice sickens you, maybe even more than the words she’s speaking.

Huh?

You swear you feel your heart skip a long beat before you mask it with an obnoxious, nervous laugh, only growing more when none of them crack a smile or react, “Me and— okay, is this a fucking joke?”

“C’mon, ___,” Iseul says, her sweet voice doing nothing to calm your tension, and if anything it only heightens it, “You don’t need to hide anymore, Jeongguk told Namjoon that you’re his girlfriend.”

Oh. So this must be a fucking joke.

And you can’t stand it.

You barely manage to shake off their relentless curiosity, the entire dorm suddenly buzzing with an interest in you after years of peaceful and civil indifference, and it only overwhelms you to the brim.

Fury boils in your chest as you step out of the building, the cold air failing to cool the anger that flares up within you. With every step, your frustration grows, and you hastily type on your phone as you make your way toward the one person that’s responsible for your temper.

You [10:07 p.m.]: what the actual fuck jeongguk

The response comes so quickly, almost as if he were waiting for you to type it, and you scoff in disbelief. In that moment, you feel a twisted sense of understanding with serial killers. It makes you question how much control you actually have over yourself.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:07 p.m.]: What’s up?

You [10:07 p.m.]: why’s the whole dorm asking me how's it like to be your gf?

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:08 p.m.]: Eeehhhh???

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:08 p.m.]: That’s so weird

You’re actually gonna fuck this man up.

You [10:09 p.m.]: jeon jeongguk.

You [10:09 p.m.]: they’re saying you told namjoon i’m your girlfriend.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:09 p.m.]: Don’t use my full name and the period please 🥺

You [10:10 p.m.]: i’ll fucking kill you.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:10 p.m.]: You’re so hot when you’re like this

You [10:10 p.m.]: shut the hell up.

The banging on his door comes shortly after, and Jeongguk doesn’t even flinch. He knows it’s you, and frankly he was even expecting your arrival to be louder, hit him a little harder than it does. And when he lets you in, you storm in his space with no room for oxygen, door closing behind you but unable to contain the volume of your rage private.

“Can you explain why the whole campus thinks we’re dating? ‘Cause you’re not my boyfriend, and I’m not your girlfriend, and this is not fucking funny.”

But Jeongguk evidently does find it funny, chuckling under his hand coming to cover his mouth while the other one lifts to show you the bright screen of his cracked phone, “Really? The uni Instagram page is shipping us.”

“Shipping us?” You snatch the device from his hands, eyes widening as you scroll through the amount of stories posted in the last hour, everyone and their mother feeling entitled to weigh in on your nonexistent relationship. You whine, a hand resting at your forehead in disbelief, “Oh my god, this is ridiculous.”

“What, are you ashamed of me?” Jeongguk asks casually, walking back and sitting on the bed with a soft thud, his whole demeanor relaxed with a nonchalance that makes your left eye twitch.

You scoff, unwilling to grasp how this is even an actual thing happening to you, tossing the phone back at him, “A little bit, yeah. You think this is a fucking joke, huh? I’m now apparently dating the uni’s most popular fuckboy.”

The damned boy in front of you leans on his forearms, pouting just for show, “Hey, that’s mean. I’m no fuckboy.”

Bag thrown to the ground with a violence that it does not deserve, you start pacing back and forth in his room, letting out a borderline insane laugh, not knowing whether to scream or cry, “Yes, you are. You went through every single girl in this building.”

“Do you really think of me like that?”

The sudden sincerity that you think you spot in his tone makes you halt your steps, body turning to him as he sits straight again, his head tilting slightly.

You sigh, frustration mounting, and you throw your head back at the ceiling for any signal from the universe that this is indeed a joke, a bad, huge joke on you, “Jeongguk. Please.”

Silence fills the room next, but it doesn’t make it any easier to think nor does it quite register in your brain, mind racing with jumbled and chaotic thoughts, barely coming through as coherent words, getting intertwined with one another.

But the more you walk from one side of the room to the other, the more you’re almost able to untangle the mess, just enough to start processing what’s happening.

Then, a nuclear bomb wipes it all out, Jeongguk’s words the missile, his quiet tone the explosion, “I don’t want you to see nobody else.”

“What the fuck?”

The aftermath of the destruction is not only loud, ears ringing with a shrieking alarm going off, your figure stiff with shock, but you feel its heat burning your whole body in consuming flames that threaten to swallow you whole if you don’t let them take over, rise, flood every nerve until all you can feel is the rage boiling in your veins when you practically scream at him, ”What the hell does that even mean? You're being selfish!”

“Am I?” Jeongguk asks calm, calculated, gaze locked on yours as if daring you to challenge him further. His tone is maddeningly measured even as he pushes himself off the bed and closes the distance between you.

It’s like he’s planned this— attack after attack designed to destabilize you completely. Not only did he thrust you into the spotlight without warning, claiming you for the whole campus to see as if you’re worth nothing more than a stupid prank and a few laughs.

But now he talks with a grace that belies the chaos he’s stirred, as if his words are just another fact, something as simple as the weather, “I haven’t been seeing anybody since this summer. Since we started using no condom.”

Your pupils tremble with something far more complex than just anger, though you refuse to give it a name. He’s practically towering over you, his stance purposeful, making you feel small; as if the intensity of his gaze is not enough that it makes you falter, as if the humiliation he’s putting you through isn’t either. Head shaking, your voice does too, “That’s— not true. You’re a fucking liar. You— What about Haeun?

“Nothing even happened with her.”

The speed of his denial sets you off, an incredulous scoff breaking free as you roll your tongue against the inside of your cheek—a habit you’d picked up from witnessing his easy tempers, “Then why did you tell me you kissed?”

“Because—” Jeongguk hesitates, and the pause is so out of character that it almost gives you whiplash. The boy who always has something to say suddenly seems unsure. His hand flexes at his side, a nervous tick you hadn’t noticed before, and he exhales as if the words are fighting their way out of him, “‘Cause— I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” Your voice cracks on the word, a laugh bubbling out of you that’s sharp and fractured, borderline unhinged. It cuts through the room like broken glass, and his expression tightens, jaw clenching. But he doesn’t interrupt.

“Jealous,” you repeat, louder this time, your incredulous tone thick with rage. “You’re telling me you made up that bullshit because you were jealous?”

He doesn’t respond, and it pushes you closer to your limit, on the verge of exploding. You don’t know how you find it within you, but with a long exhale and a quick prayer up at the ceiling, you meet his gaze in an almost patronizing manner, “Jeongguk, we are not exclusive. I thought that was well implied. You don’t get to act like this. You don’t get to be jealous.”

Nodding along to your words, Jeongguk’s brows draw together, his expression somewhere between anxious and defensive. There’s something in his eyes, something close to fear, but fear of what, you can’t quite place.

When he speaks, his voice is softer than yours, as though he’s trying to keep it from breaking, “I know. We both agreed to that, yes. We’re both allowed to see other people.”

The words feel rehearsed, like he’s repeated them to himself a hundred times. But with the silence stretching, it’s clear he’s struggling to say more. His lips press together briefly, and his gaze flicks to yours, searching. It’s as though he’s waiting — no, hoping — you’ll interject, offer something to fill the space.

You don’t. You hold firm, tilting your head slightly, your confusion evident. Your wide, questioning eyes, so big, so honest, pull the truth from him in a way you don’t intend, and he exhales like it’s been forced out of him.

“But I don’t want you to.”

The sheer audacity of his words hits you like a slap, the kind that stings more because of its unexpectedness. You snort, although there’s nothing particularly amusing about your heart cracking at the middle, but you manage to keep it from resounding in your words, "That’s so fucking mean. Do you even hear yourself? You get to fuck whoever you want, and I’m kept hostage? And now—now everybody thinks we’re dating!"

"That’s good," he says, simple, unflinching.

You blink, disbelief coursing through you as your lips part in a strangled gasp. "What?" The word is half a whisper, half a shout, and it escapes before you can temper it, "You’re so selfish. I fucking hate you.”

The emotion is foreign from what you’re used to showing him, softness in quiet ways, affection in silent gestures. But now, it’s all loud rage, the opposite of love spilling out of you in volatile waves. Your hands curl into fists at your sides, itching for release, something, anything to make him feel the way you’re being forced to feel, to cut through the weight of his seemingly impassive expression showing only the barest twitch in his brows, a crack too small to satisfy your anger.

It isn’t enough. You need more.

Your palms find his chest, shoving him with the force of every burning feeling inside you. “You’re stupid,” you spit, watching him take the push without exactly budging, like he’s made of stone. It only stokes your frustration further, your hands pushing again, harder this time. “And dumb.”

Jeongguk doesn’t step back, doesn’t fight you. He stands there, his chest steady, absorbing your hits without a word. His lack of resistance only makes the storm inside you rage harder, and the tears you’ve been holding back threaten to spill over.

You scramble for more, anything to turn the reality of what you truly feel into the illusion of anger, “And— and— Why the fuck are you silent! Say something!” You aim another punch at his chest, but it’s impossibly weaker, the exhaustion showing in your useless attempts at getting at him.

You sniff, and you know you lost against his indifference, your voice wavering feeling like a confession you didn’t mean to make. “Asshole. You’re being so mean. You’re making me cry.”

That’s what finally breaks him. Only the tears slipping rapidly from your eyes get his resolve to crumble. His hands are on you instantly, gripping your shoulders gently but firmly, refusing to let you squirm away. You slap at them weakly, but his touch is steady, his fingers brushing strands of hair from your face, cupping your chin to tilt it up toward him.

“Toots, no. Hey, hey,” he whispers, his tone soft in a way that disarms you completely. His thumb swipes at a stray tear, but your face turns away, evading him like it’s your only line of defense. He doesn’t back down, “Stop crying. Hey, look at me. Will you?”

“Stop calling me that!” You finally snap, jerking your face away again. The tears are spilling faster now, no matter how much you want to fight them, no matter how much you want to cling to the fury. “I hate you. You’re fucking all the girls in this college, and I’m only fucking you, because— because—”

“God,” Jeongguk groans, exasperation dripping from his tone. You’re about to hurl another half-formed insult or maybe even take a swing at him again, aiming low, but his next words stop you cold.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” His tone is quieter now, more deliberate, the vulnerability in it cutting sharper than anything else he’s said. “I like you. I broke the rule.”

You’re sure your heart will fail you today. It misses at least four beats, and it steals the oxygen from your lungs, along with the color from your face.

You stammer, eyes widening as your pulse picks up again and pounds in your ears. “Don’t—don’t say shit like that. I swear to God, I’ll actually fuck you up. Stop—lying to me.”

“What the fuck, ___? I’m not lying to you,” Jeongguk’s voice attempts to be steady but it can’t hide the desperation, as if he’s holding on by a thread. “Why would I?”

The question is simple.

Why would Jeongguk lie to you? Does he have a reason to fake this?

The world seems to tilt, the ground beneath you shifting in some irreparable way.

You should feel scared. You should feel repulsed at the thought of commitment, the weight of his words pressing against you like a cage. But you don’t.

Instead, your eyes dart between his, searching for cracks in his sincerity, like a frantic spectator watching a tennis match, every glance like a volley in the game of something bigger than either of you. The matchpoint sends a thrill through your chest, something overwhelming and terrifying but not unwelcome.

Jeongguk watches you closely, feeling the weight of the silence between you stretch on longer than he can handle. He knows he’s the one that should break it, knows the truth he’s holding inside has to be spoken now.

It’s now or never. He can’t keep pretending—this isn’t just some casual thing to him, and he’s not ready to let it slip away without a fight. You’ve become everything he didn’t know he needed, and yet here he is, paralyzed by the fear of rejection, of being vulnerable, of watching the one thing he wants most slip right through his fingers.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? If he doesn’t speak up now, he’ll lose everything. His fear has no place in this moment anymore.

It’s a long exhale before his voice drops in soft honey, shaking with the weight of the truth, “Look. I know it’s hard to trust me. You’ve seen me fuck up multiple times over this stuff. But I want to stop this cycle. I want to allow myself something good,” his eyes search for any signal that he should stop talking, but in yours he finds every reason for him not to, “And you’re everything good that life will ever concede me. I can't… I can't let you go. I can't lose you.”

"Jeongguk…" His name slips from your lips like a prayer you've been too afraid to speak aloud until now. But you see it— he’s ready to find every solution, even if it means confronting the fear that has held him back for so long.

“I like you so much it’s killing me,” he admits, voice low and raw, every syllable cracking with vulnerability.

It’s a slow realization, like a tide that comes in quietly, softly. You’ve felt its caress for so long, and now that it embraces you wholly, you feel your heart expand, filling with the same warmth, the same longing.

The words you wish you could say are caught in your throat. You look up at him, eyes wide, trying to comprehend, to take in what he’s offering. You’re almost afraid to ask, as if the answer will shatter something you’ve worked so hard to protect, “You like me?”

“I lose my fucking mind when it comes to you.” His confession is a rush of honesty that sweeps through you, his eyes not leaving yours, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he blinks.

The world feels like it’s slowing down. There’s so much you’ve been holding back, but you don’t know how to make the words fit, how to make them sound right.

Jeongguk takes a small step back, his voice quieter but still heavy with emotion. “It’s okay if you wanna end it here,” he murmurs, his words barely above a whisper, like he’s bracing for the worst. “At least it wasn’t because you got with some other stupid guy.”

You shake your head, the thought of losing him too painful to bear. “Stop—” You let out a frustrated sigh, hands curling into fists at your sides. “God, you’re so dumb. This could have been so much easier if you’d told me sooner.”

He looks at you, confusion flickering across his face. “What do you mean?”

You feel your chest tighten, the truth slipping out before you can stop it. “I like you too,” you admit, the words finally leaving your lips hastly, like they were just waiting for the right moment. “I agreed to the date because I thought you were still… fucking around.”

His face softens, and there’s a flash of relief in his eyes. “I wasn’t. Haven’t been in so long.”

“...No Haeun?”

“Hell no. I don’t want no kiss if it isn’t from you.”

You laugh, a low sound that fills the air between you. “Cheesy fucker,” you tease, but there’s a warmth in your chest now, a feeling you can’t ignore. “Well, if you want to know, I wasn’t seeing anybody either. Namjoon asked me out randomly, but I haven’t been with anyone else since… this started.”

His eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, everything is quiet. He looks at you like he’s just heard something he never expected to hear. “Oh,” he says softly.

“Yeah.”

Jeongguk steps closer to you, his hands reaching for you, voice thick, “I’m so sorry, baby. I never meant to make you cry. It’s breaking my heart.” His thumb brushes across your cheek, gently wiping away the remnants of the tears you hadn’t even realized had fallen. “I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, your heart swelling with both regret and tenderness. “It’s okay,” you say softly. “I’m sorry for yelling all that stuff at you. I don’t hate you. I…”

Before you can finish, his lips crash against yours, and all the confusion, all the fears, prove themselves to be worth this moment.

They dissolve into something real, the kiss trying to make up for lost time, for all the things left unsaid.

When you pull away, your foreheads resting together, Jeongguk’s voice is quiet but determined. “Come here, baby. You’re mine.”

“Prove it.”

[midnightlavenderimp]

shitpost time, baby! ft. @theeldritchmetanoia oc, lucius! a little inside joke don't worry about it

[revnah1406]

⛰️☀️ABBY MASON 🌿🍂

Name: Abigail Mason

Nickname(s): "Abby", "Abs" (only by Woods), Kid, kiddo, girl.

Date of birth: February 29th 2012

Age: 18/19 yo (2030)

Height: 1.65m/5.4 ft

Weight: 56 Kg/ 123.5 lbs

Blood Type: O+

Sexuality: Lesbian

Family:

David Mason (Father) - *Alive*

Alice Johnson (Mother) - *Deceased*

Alex Mason (Grandfather) - *Deceased*

Frank Woods (Adoptive Grandfather) - *Deceased*

Biography:

(Call of duty black ops 2 spoilers!)

Abby is the Daughter of David Mason and Alice Johnson. She was born and raised in an environment full of fun and love. She had a great childhood. But the sad thing is due to her parents job she didn't see them very recently. David in the military and Alice working in the hospital.

But she stayed the majority of her days with the one and only Frank Woods. While her parents worked she was raised by Woods, like he did with David before. She has her best memories with that old man. He taught her a lot of things and told her a lot of stories too.

She loved that old man.

She had an amazing youth until she was 13. One night while visiting Woods in The Vault. They had a strange visit. After all that happened, Menéndez appeared again. Ready to get his revenge for what Woods did years ago. The poor kid didn't know what to do but look. Until suddenly Menéndez aimed a gun at her and shot. She hit the ground holding her chest while she started to bleed out.

Woods couldn't do anything because in the blink of an eye, he got stabbed in the throat with a knife. Abby just could lay there, bleeding out, begging, screaming, witnessing how Menéndez killed the man that practically raised her.

That affected her enormously, and she never was the kid she was once.

Personality:

She was practically raised by Woods, so it's not a surprise that she got a few traits from him. She has a strong personality, not afraid to say what's in her mind, it doesn't matter if she's talking with the fucking president Bosworth herself.

It's hard to gain her trust, she's reluctant and even rude to strangers. But when it comes to friends and family she's pure joy and kindness, she leaves her mean shell aside and she jokes around (usually dark humour), laughs, giggles...

"Abs swears like a sailor but has the imagination of a five year old" - Woods.

She has a really strong bond with her family, it's everything to her, so she would and will do everything for her family.

So it's better not to mess with her but if you earn her trust she will show you that little kid inside her.

She's impatient, stubborn and badly-tempered, but she also has a great imagination and sense of humour. Everything that you can expect from a teenager.

Trivia:

Abby is left-handed

Her name was chosen by Woods, he knew that if his Friend Mason would have a daughter would name her Abigail. So in honour of his memory David and Woods named her like that.

She's Allergic to seafood

She doesn't like sweets and is a huge fan of spicy food. Although the next day she will feel as if she has been hit by a truck.

She has one of Woods' tattoos to honour his memory, although she feels a little bit shy when she has to talk about it.

She swears more than she talks. (She spent too much time with old Woods)

Loves talking and reading about space and astronomy. One of her dreams was to become an astronaut.

Wears silly socks with silly patterns.

Although she was raised by a lieutenant commander and an ex-CIA agent, she has a really anarchical mentality. She doesn't believe in rules or the government and she's not afraid to "debate" it.

OCs canon in Abby's timeline:

Aleks Clarke R. @alypink

Mila (Bell) @efingart

Craig Alan Jones @kaitaiga

Koa "Hunter" Nikau @islandtarochips

Delta (∆):

Moodboard:

Playlist:

You can read more about her here!

👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

Mason's Legacy

[majormeilani]

Inspired by my previous ask, I have a question for your and Mice's (if she wants to join) Sunshine OCs :] Absolutely no pressure to do this for all the characters, but are there any characters where you find songs that make you think about them? Any songs you would both like?

ooooh boy. yes there are songs that remind us of the sunshine characters. we do have a really old playlist of songs that remind us of them/related to each of them but it's a little dated and outdated a bit but here's song that remain:

falling for the first time - barenaked ladies (main theme)

counting stars - onerepublic (secondary theme & one of ruben’s songs)

torn apart - bastille (tertiary theme)

on melancholy hill - gorillaz (i forget this one's association but it's likely an overall theme of sorts)

born - onerepublic (another overarching theme)

black and blue - edie brickel and the new bohemians (tiger and sparky theme and sparky’s voice claim)

everybody loves me - onerepublic (song that got related to gordon since he tends to be a heavily favored character of the group lol)

skater boy - avril lavigne (a jokingly associated song with darby for her love of skateboarding)

things we lost in the fire - bastille (another darby song but semi ties with things beyond her in the story too ;) )

get a clue - simon & milo- prozzak (a song mice said suited falin)

life in color - onerepublic (another falin theme that his story explains the purpose of its association)

pocketful of sunshine - natasha bedingfield (a riley theme that was also a joke since her overalls have a sun stitched onto the pocket but ended up working too lol)

true love - p!nk (norie song)

rabid - nicole dollanganger (norie song)

little talks - of monsters and men (natalie song)

alligator - of monsters and men (natalie song)

hello seattle - owl city (i forget the association of thos one but i think it was a zaria song)

fireflies - owl city (i also think this was a zaria song ? but i forget)

ghost - ella henderson (a maribelle song)

girl - tori amos (marcy’s main theme)

hello/how are you - road’s cover, specifically (calandra’s theme)

oblivion - bastille (another calandra's theme)

mercy street - nicole dollanganger (another calandra's theme)

little wonders - rob thomas (one of benny’s songs)

pretty girls - prozzak (another falin song i think ??)

pinch me - barenaked ladies (another falin song)

these streets - bastille (a nancy song)

start a fire - ryan star (norie and zeta song)

razor - foo fighters (one of benny's songs)

is there somewhere - halsey (this was kinda a song for the couples and relationships in the story)

hold me down - halsey (related to the sins)

willow - jasmine thompson (related to all the characters but a lesser theme)

icarus - bastille (this was a zaria theme at one point but i don't think it fits his story all that much anymore but it still reminds me of him)

losing my mind - mystery skulls (at one point this was a bailey song)

panic room - aurora (a bailey song)

angel of mercy - onerepublic (i think this was a kani song?)

umbrella - rihanna (kani song)

i was an island - john allison weiss (a kani song)

lethargy - bastille (a warren song)

greek tragedy - the wombats; also the bastille remix (zeta and norie song like. their true theme)

kids - onerepublic (all the kids lol)

queen of peace - florence and the machine (maribelle song)

time - timbaland ft she wants revenge (norie song or at least one that reminds mice of her)

bad apple - touhou (mary song but more because of an inside joke)

the prostitute - sad robot (a norie song from mice)

walk to oblivion (calandra song)

bloody shirt - to kill a king; bastille remix (a zeta song with small benny tie ins)

bad blood - bastille (zeta and norie song)

and there are more for sure just haven't logged them down beyond these ones lolll mice can def say even more that i have forgotten, i know not everyone has one listed here but i will have to remeber all the ones i had found beyond since this list is YEARS old lolll

[imlivinginyourtrashcan]

Hi hey hello halloween was 2 days ago so here are my southpark halloween headcanons cuz im a spooky gremlin all year (Possible part 1 cuz i write alot and idk if tumblr has a word limit)👍

Cartman:

His costume is either really extra or really basic because he forgot until last minute.

Its usually inflateable like a dinosaur, pizza or...other things.

Usually the one to pick the route they go on when trick or treating so he can get the most candy, but it backfires because of all the walking.

The type of mf to eat his candy while hes out trick or treating (me too, i get it)

He steals the entire take 1 bowl you cant change my mind. Also the type to grab aggressive fistfuls when someone says to just take one or two pieces of candy

Thinks haybales and haunted houses are gay

Will throw fake decorations at you as a joke, but the realistic ones that make you yell (severed hands, bugs, etc)

His house isnt that decorated since i KNOW Liane is the cool mom who gives out full sized candy bars but its the inside that counts

Takes pumpkin carving VERY seriously. But doesnt do that much, or he tries and gives up.

A dumbass when it comes to candy trading. Always falls for the tricks Kyles got

Kyle:

I love kyle, but you know hes dressing up as the most basic things every year...hes TRYING THO HES TRYING

Takes Ike with the boys when hes old enough

Tries to match costumes with Stan but stan always forgets

The BEST at carving pumpkins. Gut feeling Kyle is an art kid.

Thinks haybales are gay but is "ironically" scared of haunted houses

His mom is extra with decorations. You just know it

Secretly takes 3 pieces of candy from a take 1 bowl

Gives what he cant have to Stan since he cant eat pork n gelatin has pork in it 👍

Cartman tried nabbing his candy once and he whacked him with the candy filled pillow case he had

Expert candy tracker. That man knows which house has what and he is ON IT

Nightmare before christmas enjoyer, will i explain? No

Stan:

Hes like Kyle with the basic costume thing, just worse. Way worse

He is a ghost...almost every single year cuz he forgets to go costume shopping and he just says "fuck it" and uses a white bedsheet

Takes what he can get; he knows Shelleys gonna steal his shit anyway

That doesnt stop him from trying to hide it

Likes haybales but TERRIFIED of haunted houses he will NOT get in one

Mediocre pumpkin carver at best

His house aint decorated nor does it have candy cuz of randys ass. Forgetful ahh

Kenny:

Cant really afford costumes so stan, kyle and cartman help him DIY costumes

Also the kind of mf to grab the entire take 1 bowl

Makes it his MISSION to get all the candy he can get

Kinda eh on Haybsles, LOVES haunted houses

His house is never decorated, his family cant afford that

Good at candy trading cuz he can do puppy eyes

Really good at pumpkin carving, he just cant be the one getting the pumpkins.

Horror movie FANATIC!!! HE LOVES HORROR MOVIES!!!

He dies a lot that day very sad for him

Butters:

Rarely aloud to go out trick or treating, mans is ALWAYS grounded

When he CAN go out he cant ever stay out late which sucks so much

His costume is always something cute/creative, bro would probably go as like, an oc of his one year (projecting so hard i did this in the 4th or 5th grade)

Gets people to check his candy for him, hes scared of getting hurt or poisoned

Wants to go to the houses that have fruit or toothbrushes. It always goes like:

"Can we go to Ms Firkles house?" "The one that gives out apples?" "Yeah!" "Fuck is wrong with you?"

Loves Haybales, thinks theyre so fun

TERRIFIED of haunted houses, will not even STAND in a 100 ft radius of a haunted house

Flinches/Cries/Screams whenever a halloween decoration jumpscares him or is too loud

Horrified of horror moves

Not allowed to carve pumpkins, too dangerous. But he likes painting them!

Obeys the "take 1/2/3" rule like a good boy

His house is decently decorated, nothing extravagant

Craig:

Oh you know he is a "this is my costume" mf

Either that or something space related

Always the first in front in his group (Tweek, Tolkien, Clyde, Jimmy and Himself) cuz hes pretty unphased by everything

Loves carving pumpkins, him and tweek do the cute pumpkin carving stuff couples do

Cant eat most of the candy since he has braces, but he gives it to Tweek so its not a waste

Will hold Tweeks hand during horror movies, haunted houses and haybales.

A six flags fright fest enjoyer

This mf will look you dead in the eye and pour an entire bowl of candy into his bag if there arent any cameras or signs

The kind of mf to joke inside a ghost tour and purposefully try to piss off the ghost by flipping it off

The most undecorated house ever. Its like halloween doesnt exist to the Tuckers

Tweek:

He buys cool costumes but his makeup is so shaky and rushed since his ass cant sit still

Chugging pumpkin spice like a maniac

Terrified of any and all halloween activities. Jumpscare him and he will scream

Doesnt take candy from people or bowls, he stands awkwardly behind everyone and investigates his candy thoroughly before putting it in the bag

Either that or he'll have craig triple check it

His house is always decorated since Tweek Bros always has halloween specials and stuff

Does not sleep for the entire month of halloween, he survives on pumpkin spice and pure anxiety

Helps around the coffee shop by refilling candy bowls and doing halloween chalkboards (they look like scribbled messes but whatever)

The middle man in the group, he doesnt feel safe in the front or back

Carries Pepper spray with him when trick or treating, always very cautious to the point his friends grill him for it a little. Better safe than sorry

Clinging onto Craig half the night, the insomnias getting to him

Legally not aloud to carve pumpkins. He will accidentally knick his fingers

Loves halloween baking though, he does burn at least something and panics.

Clyde:

Oh you know hes the kind of mf to dress up like the glow in the dark stickman

Grabs aggressive handfuls of candy regardless of if its from a bowl or person

An absolute crybaby. Will cry when he sees the decorations

They cant decorate his house since hes a baby

Likes the pumpkin carving tho!

Always runs to thr house with full sized candy bars

Jimmy:

He is def going as an inflateable t rex/banana

Tells more jokes to people in hopes of getting more candy

Carves a wee wee into his pumpkin. He thinks its funny

Pretends to be scared on haybales to make Clyde feel better

His house is the one with custom decorations its so great

Scary movie enthusiast, joking and calling the characters dumb the whole time

He. Fucking. Loves. Frightfest

Hc that when hes older hes a scare actor part time

Admires the decorations

Tolkien

Bro probably got like, a ren faire costume yk? Like a count or something

Tolkien just seems likke the guy to go to ren faire every year

Expert pumpkin carver

Takess his friends to halloween fairs every year

The most overdecorated house (rich kid core)

Always saying the thank yous and happy halloweens when noone else will

Bro printed out a map of their trick or treat route

He takes some of his friends to ren faire too. Craig thinks its gay as shit

Likes the haybales, and the shit rides at the halloween fairs

Creeped out by haunted houses tho

[neptuniadoesstuff]

Another Goober Done | #02

Her name is uh... Thalassa Badriyah "Whenbaki" (Whenbaki is just his occupational name bcs he is a whistleblower). She is a hybrid between a Maokla & a Lunelohk Mynk (which explains her grey-ish skin). Also fun fact: his scales, eyes, & bright bits of their fins/frills are actually biolumonecent (idk how you spell it-)

Their gender also changes... LITERALLY! So when yur talking to him you might see him as a man but on another day you might see her as a woman. But the body type will remain the same... Its just the gender that changes...

Also he is nicknamed Phishstiks bcs it's funny. (& a inside joke)

|| 289 (Mynk Age) | Genderfluid (Literally), She/He | 5'9 ft tall | Bi | Hybrid of a Lunelohk Mynk & a Maokla Mynk ||

Also no full body today. Bcs some Tumblr ppl no like when woman e x I s t . (Mainly bcs the full body has a bikini & uh.... YEH THIS POST WILL BE MURKED IF I SHOW THAT, & NO ITS NOT SUS, NONE OF THE FULL BODIES I MAKE ARE MEANT TO BE SUS, IF YOU THINK ITS SUS GET YUR MIND OUT OF THE GOD DAMN GUTTER & DRINK SOME HOLY WATER!)

Anyways, this is the 2nd order of the Mynk OC Shop I'm holding for at ToyHouse. (Yes, this is an advertisement also bcs frik u-) Bcs if you guys have a TH, you can go to this link here to order a Mynk OC from me. (Just plz read the whole thing before ordering, thanks)

Character was created by me for a oc order.

Art: Is mine. (Bcs it has my watermark "Buggy" on it)

Program: Ibispaint x

Bubs' TOS: Plz don't repost/steal, trace, or recolor my art WITHOUT MY PERMISSION! If you do, I'll take yur femur and pelvis.. SO, DON'T THINK ABOUT IT! (The PNS on my blog's pinned post clearly means "Please No Steal" plz follow that rule.) If you do post my art on anything like yur blog or somewhere else (With my permission) PLEASE CREDIT ME!

[btsqualityy]

Y.O.U (Years Of Us), Chapter 4: Decisions Made Out of Hurt

Jimin x half black/half Korean OC

Genre/Rating: 21+, established relationship, idol!AU, smut, angst, and fluff

Summary: Kamaria gets back to work on her upcoming album, runs into Jimin, and has her perspective (slightly) altered after a conversation with him. 

Warnings: Mention of drug addiction and a rehab visit. 

WC: 4.1K

Song Of The Chapter: Demi Lovato ft Lil Wayne- Lonely

Two weeks later, Kamaria got out of her car at the HYBE building, making sure to lock the doors before she walked inside. After promotions for ‘Taming’ wrapped up, Kamaria was determined to get back into the studio. It had been two years since her fourth album and she had missed performing more than anything in the world. 

Well, almost anything. 

Once she had checked into the building and allowed the elevator to take her to the seventh floor, she instantly went to the fourth door on the right side of the hallway, typing the code into the keypad and waiting for the door to beep twice before pulling it open. 

“Well, well, well,” Yoongi smiled as he turned around in his chair and watched Kamaria step into his studio. “Long time, no see.”

“I just saw you in November, at MMA remember?” Kamaria chuckled. “Don’t start this dramatic shit.”

“What can I say? I have a flair for it,” he laughed, standing up and waiting until she had stepped closer to pull her into a tight hug. “How are you, kiddo?”

“I’m ok, can’t complain,” she shrugged as she hugged him back. “How are you?”

“Busy with work, as always,” he joked. “Here, have a seat.” Kamaria did as he instructed, taking a seat in the chair that had been placed next to his before she set her purse on top of the nearby table. “So, how’s the album coming along so far?”

“Well, I think I have about 50% of it done so far but as I started to think about what else I wanted to include on the album, your name popped into my mind,” she explained. “We haven’t worked on anything together since my first album and Lonely is still one of my favorites.”

“It’s one of mines too,” Yoongi smiled. “But uh, are you sure about us working together? I mean, there’s a reason why we haven’t collaborated since your first album all those years ago.”

“You just had to go and bring that shit up,” Kamaria huffed. 

.........................................................

5 Years Ago

After fulfilling her contractual obligations to SM Entertainment, Kamaria had been looking for a change. Though the company was amazing to her and had been an amazing fit for her mother, she had realized that she wanted more creative control when it came to what messages she was putting into her music. Through her friendship with Jimin, she became acquainted with Bang Sihyuk who welcomed her to BigHit Entertainment with open arms. 

“I have to say, Kamaria, I cannot wait to get into the studio with you,” Bang PD confessed as the two of them walked down one of the numerous hallways in the HYBE building together after she signed her artist contract. “I hope that doesn’t make me sound too excited.”

“It’s fine because I’m just as excited,” Kamaria laughed. “Some of my favorite KPop songs ever have been ones that you wrote.”

“I’d be lying if I didn’t say that makes me blush a bit,” he joked, making Kamaria laugh again. As the two of them walked, they heard a sudden commotion coming from the artists’ lounge and as Kamaria listened closer, she realized that one of the raised voices was coming from Jimin. 

“Um, sorry to have to end this on such short notice but I think I should go see what’s going on,” Kamaria said.

“I think so too,” Bang PD nodded. “I’ll have Nari-ssi get in touch with you with your new schedule for recording.”

“Yes, thank you,” she nodded, doing a light bow before she rushed away from her new boss and as she rushed down the hallway, she could hear the voices of the other Bangtan members getting louder and louder. By the time she made it to the open doorway, nothing could’ve prepared her for what she saw. 

Jimin and Yoongi had their arms wrapped around each other, trying to wrestle one another down onto the ground and throwing blows at whatever inches of skin that they could reach. The other members were left trying to break the two of them up although if Kamaria wasn’t mistaken, some of them looked like they wanted to let the fight take place. 

“What the fuck are you guys’ doing?!” Kamaria shouted as she rushed forwards, instantly going over to Jimin and pulling on his shirt along with Jungkook and Taehyung. At the sound of her voice, Jimin released his grip on Yoongi and allowed himself to be pulled away. “What the hell is going on?!”

“This dumb ass has decided not to resign,” Yoongi growled and Kamaria’s eyes widened because Jimin hadn’t said anything to her about that. 

“Are you serious?” She gasped before looking over at Jimin. “Why?”

“Because I wanted to do more solo work and I can’t do that with the group constantly hanging over my head,” he explained. 

“Say it like that again and I’ll kill you,” Yoongi threatened and Jin and Hobi tightened their grips on his arms just to be safe. 

“Jimin decided to tell us about his decision after we’ve already started contract negotiations as seven members,” Namjoon elaborated. “We were very clear on our plans before Jin hyung and Yoongi hyung went to the military so we’re not understanding the sudden change.”

“The sudden change came when he had his solo debut and started smelling his own shit,” Yoongi spat.

“I haven’t been smelling my own shit,” Jimin shot back.

“Actually, you have been,” Hobi interjected. “You’ve been acting every different every since ‘Here I Am’ came out and every solo comeback you’ve had since. Nothing against you personally but it’s the truth.”

“Maybe because I want to explore more of my own artistry,” Jimin explained. “I don’t want to be held back by my commitments to the fucking group, like I have been for years now.”

“We were holding you back?!” Yoongi snorted as he began to struggle against Jin and Hobi’s hold. “You wouldn’t be shit without us and you fucking know it!”

“There’s only three of us that pack in the fucking stadiums and it’s definitely not you, hyung,” Jimin said mockingly. “So I think it’s actually the other way around.”

“Ungrateful son of a bitch!” Yoongi roared before breaking free of the hold on his arms and charging towards Jimin again, literally tackling him onto the ground. This time, it took the members much longer to break the two of them apart while Kamaria was forced to do nothing but watch and call out to Jimin, hoping that he’d rein himself back in. 

“Get the fuck off of me!” Jimin hollered as he got up off of the ground once Yoongi had finally been pulled off of him. “I fucking quit!”

“Jimin hyung,” Jungkook called out but Jimin brushed him off before he stormed out of the lounge. 

“I’ll talk to him,” Kamaria said before rushing out behind her best friend. Once she caught up to him, Jimin didn’t stop to hear her out and even eight hours later, as he paced back and forth in Kamaria’s apartment, he still refused to see reason. 

“Listen, I understand where you were coming from,” Kamaria said from her place on the couch. “Bangtan has always been insular and it’s hard to go back to that once you’ve opened up more.”

“Ex-fucking-actly.”

“But couldn’t you just communicate that to them without all the extra aggressiveness?” She wondered. 

“They wouldn’t hear me out, Bubs because they never do!” Jimin exclaimed. “I don’t want to be just ‘Jiminie from BTS’ anymore. Once I started making my own music, I just saw everything that I could be and it’s so much more than I could’ve ever dreamed.”

“And you really think Bangtan is holding you back from that?” 

“I do,” he confirmed with a nod. “And I know myself. Despite what happened today, I do love my members and I’d do anything for them but I also know that my loyalty to them is holding me back. Think about it. Yoongi hyung’s been back from the military for six months and what I have done solo since then?”

“Nothing but you told me you guys had discussed that,” Kamaria pointed out. 

“More like the hyungs discussed it and I just agreed to it,” he corrected her. “I’ve grown so much as an artist in the last three years and I don’t want to lose the momentum that I have going.”

“And that’s worth you imploding a 15 year friendship?” She questioned. “Because of your fucking ego, basically?”

“Call it what you want but I’ve made my decision,” Jimin shrugged as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pill bottle. “I’m going to finish another mini album and promote that for the next six months before I go to do my military service. Once I’m out, the only thing I’ll have to worry about is myself and my music.” 

Kamaria didn’t say anything else, instead just watching worriedly as he pulled a pill out of the bottle and swallowed it down dry. 

.........................................................

“Look, the only reason why I haven’t worked with you was out of respect for my prior relationship,” Kamaria explained. “Which you can’t blame me for. I mean, you gave him a black eye and a bloodied lip.”

“Which I’d do again in a heartbeat because he fucking deserved it for being a prick,” Yoongi chuckled. “But it must feel good to get rid of the old ball and chain, huh? I never did know what you saw in his ass.”

“Anyways,” she rolled her eyes. “Let’s get to work, if you remember how to do that.”

“Oh, I have a whole folder of beats that are awaiting your gorgeous voice,” he smiled as he turned to face his desktop. “Let’s do it, kiddo.”

Once the session started, Kamaria found herself easily slipping into the routine. Making music was like therapy for her and after the last few months, she fucking needed it. 

A few hours later, Kamaria stood next to the door of Yoongi’s studio while he locked up. 

“I’d forgotten how fucking good you are,” Yoongi chuckled. “I can’t believe we wrote and laid the entire song down today.”

“Me either but I love it,” she gushed happily. “I definitely want it on the album.”

“Good, as long as you don’t try to rope me into performing it with you,” he said as he turned to face her, motioning with his hand for her to lead the way down the hall. 

“Oh come on,” she giggled. “We’ve never performed together before and it would be fun.”

“Pay me enough and we can talk,” he chuckled. 

“Pay you enough for what?” Jimin wondered as he stepped out from around a corner, smirking when Kamaria and Yoongi simultaneously rolled their eyes at the sight of him. “Hello Bubs.”

“Hi,” Kamaria deadpanned. 

“So, she’s the only person you see?” Yoongi asked. 

“Hello hyung,” Jimin smiled but Kamaria could tell that it was completely fake. “How are you?”

“Eat a dick,” Yoongi snapped before turning to glance at Kamaria. “I’m going home. Call me if you need anything, yeah?”

“Ok, and thanks for today,” Kamaria smiled softly, giving him a quick hug before he continued to walk down the hall away from them. Once he was out of earshot, Jimin narrowed his eyes at her. 

“You’re working with Yoongi now?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m no longer with you and don’t have to worry about bruising your ego anymore,” Kamaria shrugged. 

“Nice to know whose side you’re on,” he snickered. 

“I was never on anyone’s side in that and you know it. I thought all of you were being idiots,” she reminded him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She moved to walk past him but when she did, he reached out and grabbed onto her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. “You know, you’re making a really bad habit of grabbing me and my fist is just aching for a face to punch these days.”

“Can we talk?” Jimin wondered. “Like, really talk?”

“If you ask me about being your fucking surrogate again, I swear-,”

“No, not about that,” he shook his head. “I want to explain things to you from my side. About Hye-ja, why I did what I did, everything.”

“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” She chuckled in disbelief. “You made it very clear who and what you wanted when you married her.”

“But don’t act like it hasn’t always been you,” Jimin stated firmly. 

“It’s hard to believe that when you’re sporting another woman’s ring on your finger.”

“Have I ever lied to you?” He questioned and that had Kamaria pausing for thought. Jimin was a lot of things: an asshole, egotistical, somewhat clingy, and selfish. However, the man had never lied to her and she couldn’t deny that.

“No.”

“I know I’ve hurt you. I can see it in your eyes,” Jimin murmured. “The least I can do is be honest with you, if you’ll let me?” As Kamaria looked into his eyes, those brown eyes that she had found herself getting lost in so many times before, she felt that familiar feeling washing over her again. 

“Ok,” she agreed. “When and where?”

“If you’re not busy, I’d like to do it tonight,” he told her. “Say, my place, 7:00pm?”

“I’ll be there,” Kamaria agreed, her breathing hitching in her throat when Jimin suddenly leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss onto her forehead before pulling back.

“See you then, Bubs,” he smiled before turning and walking away. 

“I’m such an idiot,” Kamaria muttered to herself, grabbing her sunglasses from her bag and slipping them onto her face before making her way out of the HYBE building. 

.........................................................

Later that night, Kamaria found herself pulling her car up to the code box of Jimin’s house. His house could really be considered a mansion by modern standards, two stories with five bedrooms, three bathrooms, a home studio, a large backyard with a pool, and even a full scale movie room. 

Rolling down the driver’s side window, Kamaria reached out and quickly pressed the numbers ‘514′ onto the keypad, her eyes widening when the gate beeped before it slowly began to open. 514 was the date of their anniversary and she was somewhat, but not completely, surprised that Jimin hadn’t gotten around to changing it. 

As she pulled up the driveway and parked her car right in front of the front steps, she had barely gotten her foot out of the car when the front door to the house swung open. 

“Bubs!” Jimin called and in spite of everything, Kamaria found herself smiling as she walked up the steps. 

“Hey.”

“You look amazing,” he praised and Kamaria rolled her eyes.

“I’m wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt,” she scoffed. “Be for real.”

“I am,” he huffed, opening the door wider and allowing her to step inside. “And you have your hair in my favorite style.” Kamaria smiled at that, knowing Jimin well enough to know that he went weak in the knees anytime she had braids in her hair and especially when she put them up into a ponytail on top of her head. 

“Look, you wanted to talk so let’s talk,” Kamaria said once she had taken off her jacket and gotten her shoes off of her feet. 

“You’re not hungry?” Jimin asked as he began to walk backwards towards the kitchen. “I have food on the stove. Come on.”

“Jimin,” she whined but when he continued to walk away from her, she just sighed heavily before following behind him. Once she made it into the large kitchen, Jimin was already in front of the stove stirring something in a large pot so Kamaria walked over to him and hopped up to sit on the counter next to him. 

“So, where’s Hye-ja?” She couldn’t help but to inquire. 

“Not here.”

“Is she gonna be here? I mean, she does live here,” Kamaria pointed out.

“No, she doesn’t and she never has,” Jimin confessed, throwing her a quick glance before refocusing his gaze on the pot. 

“What? So the two of you have been living separately since you got married?”

“Yep. She said something to the effect of ‘”I’ve worked too hard to just give up my house and plus, I don’t even like the design of your house”,” he recited.

“She doesn’t like this house?” Kamaria gasped. “It’s gorgeous. I remember when you bought it.”

“I’d hope you would remember because you’re the one that convinced me to get it,” Jimin chuckled. “Pretty sure you threatened my life about it too.”

“Hey, a good piece of real estate makes me passionate,” she joked. A comfortable silence settled over them then, and Kamaria took the opportunity to look inside of the simmering pot. “Uh, Jimin? What is this?”

“Kimchi jjigae.”

“You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” he huffed. 

“It doesn’t look like it,” she observed. 

“Looks can be deceiving sometimes,” Jimin smiled. “Trust me, it’ll taste the way you taught me to make it.”

“I still don't’ know how you used to cook for me so much but had no idea how to make kimchi jjigae,” Kamaria giggled. “And it was so easy!”

“Hey, that wasn’t my fault,” he shot back. “I had my parents, you, and the hyungs so I had no need to learn.”

“You’re spoiled.”

“Loved, actually and there’s a difference.”

“Whatever,” she smiled. Not too much later, the stew was done and the two of them were sat together at the table placed in Jimin’s dining room, their full bowls, one glass of wine and one cup of water in front of them. 

“So,” Kamaria spoke up, wanting to get right down to things because she wanted answers. “How did you and Hye-ja even meet?”

“Well, I’ve always known of her,” Jimin began. “I’d see her around at different events and award shows, stuff like that. I even did an OST for a drama that she was in back before I did my enlistment. She used to flirt with me whenever she saw me but I never paid it any attention because I was in love with you, even before we officially got together three years ago.”

“When you and I broke up, I was heartbroken and I had holed myself up in this house,” he continued. “Taehyung was the one who broke me out of my funk and dragged me out to Hye-ja’s latest premiere. When I saw her again, she was just as flirty and this time, I welcomed it. She gave me her number and we ended up talking on the phone every night for weeks afterward. She gave me attention and made me feel wanted, which is the exact opposite of how I had felt when you and I ended things.”

“As we talked, it just seemed like we wanted a lot of the same things,” he told her. “She’s the same age as me and it seemed like we were on the same timeline when it came to getting married and starting a family so I thought it could work. Admittedly, I also didn’t want to miss my opportunity to have the family that I’ve always dreamed of and since it seemed like you were really done with me, I took my chance. I asked her to marry me and she accepted. We got married in Tokyo a month after her movie premiere.”

“And where does the whole surrogate thing come in at?” Kamaria wondered. 

“Once we got back to Korea and Hye-ja saw some of the bad press we got for a ‘fake and rushed marriage’, she decided that she wanted to hold off on having kids for the time being,” Jimin explained. “And after that, it seemed like everything just unraveled. We have more differences than I thought and we barely see each other because she’s obsessed with working.” 

“Wow,” Kamaria murmured, slowly dragging her spoon through her stew. Although she was still angry as hell at the way Jimin had gone about things and how he had let them play out, she still could understand his point of view. He had made a decision out of pain, only to have it all blow up in his face. 

“Tell me about it,” he chuckled. 

“I feel for you Jimin, I really do but I never told you that we were totally done,” she pointed out. 

“Can you blame me for thinking that after I woke up to all of your stuff gone and only a note left behind?” Jimin scoffed. “You said you needed space.”

“And I did need space.”

“Between that and all the times I proposed to you, only to be turned down, what was I supposed to think?”

“Your definition of asking someone to marry you changes everyday,” Kamaria responded. “Randomly asking me over cereal in the morning or over the phone or when I’m mad at you because I caught you popping pills is not a proposal.”

“....You didn’t have to throw that in my face,” Jimin grumbled. 

“And I’m not trying to but it’s the truth,” she stated firmly. “You had an addiction issue and I know you went to rehab and have been fine since you got out...right?”

“Right.”

“But it just made me rethink everything,” she finished. “I wanted everything you did Jimin and you know that. Marriage, kids, the whole shebang but I was not going to do it while you were using drugs and then fresh into recovery, especially not after what I’ve been through with my mama. I love you but I refuse to love you to death, and that’s something I’m standing on.”

“I understand Bubs,” Jimin said, reaching across the table with his hands out. Hesitantly, Kamaria set down her spoon and set her hands in Jimin’s, allowing him to squeeze them tightly. “When I came back from rehab, it seemed like everything was fine between us so I assumed that our relationship was one that I wouldn’t have to worry about mending. I guess I was wrong, huh?”

“I-” Kamaria began to say but she was cut off by the sound of the front door opening and closing followed by a loud voice calling Jimin’s name. Kamaria instantly snatched her hands out of Jimin’s, her eyes widening when she saw the person that the voice belonged to walk into the dining room. 

Kim Hye-ja was stunning and even Kamaria could admit that. She stepped into the room dressed immaculately in a light blue two piece suit, Jimmy Choo heels glistening in the light. Her long black hair was slicked back away from her face, showing off her stunning facial structure. 

“Jiminie!” Hye-ja exclaimed and Jimin stood up then, opening his arms just in time for Hye-ja to crash into him in a tight hug. Kamaria couldn’t help but to grimace and she had to physically turn her head when Hye-ja kissed her husband firmly. 

“What are you doing here, Hye?” Jimin asked. “I thought you were going to stay in Jeju after your photoshoot.”

“I was but I decided to come back to Seoul so that we could be together,” she smiled before looking over at Kamaria. “Oh my gosh, you’re Kamaria.”

“Hi,” Kamaria smiled softly and Hye-ja rushed over to her side of the table, bowing lightly and grabbing onto her hand to shake it in greeting. 

“It’s so amazing to finally meet you!” Hye-ja chirped happily. “I know you’re one of Jimin’s best friends.”

“Yeah,” Kamaria nodded. “It’s nice to meet you too, Hye-ja-ssi.”

“Please, you don’t have to be so formal with me,” she insisted. “Any friend of Jimin is a friend of mines.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Kamaria replied. 

“I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?” Hye-ja questioned suddenly after seeing the bowls of food and Kamaria’s glass of wine. “I know you don’t get to see each other often.” 

Oh, if only she knew.

“Nah, you’re fine,” Jimin spoke up. “I ran into Bub-, Kamaria at the HYBE building when I went to record today and invited her over.”

“But I was actually just on my way out,” Kamaria announced, standing up from her chair. 

“Well, we have to plan something soon so that you and I can get to know each other more,” Hye-ja suggested. 

“Sure,” Kamaria smiled falsely. “I’ll see you around, Jimin.”

“Let me walk you out,” he offered but Kamaria shook her head. 

“I’m good, don’t worry. Stay with Hye-ja-ssi, I’m sure you guys have a lot of catching up to do.”

“That we do,” Hye-ja smiled as she wrapped her arms around Jimin. Quickly making her way to the front door, she stuffed her feet into her shoes and grabbed her jacket and purse, holding both in her hands as she rushed out of the front door. Switching on the ignition and throwing the car into drive, she fled down the driveway, flying through the gates and out onto the streets of Seoul. 

“Every time,” she muttered to herself. “Every fucking time.”

.........................................................

Tag List:  @dunixxd @namaslaylife @shabbamadapot

[myloveforhergoeson]

hi hello u have given me permission to info dump, so here’s four fun facts about some of my btr ocs!

noah was obsessed with curious george as a kid, and still has a george stuffie! him and carlos eventually get all the curious george movies + episodes on tape

saylor and kendall write a ton of songs together. in my universe, passing time by heffron drive ft logan henderson is actually a sayendall/ kaylor (need to decide on a shipname for them) cowritten song and it ends up on a deluxe version of btr’s 24/seven album.

elisa has a scar in between her eyebrows from falling and hitting her head on a rock as a baby. if you look really closely you can see the divot.

wren and olive watch home alone every year for christmas. even when they are apart.

and now i ask for four hcs for daisy and roxy!

you literally always have permission to info dump <3333 the noah and carlos fact in particular is really getting to me... the 2006 curious george movie is one of the first movies i remember seeing in the theater !! also the jack johnson soundtrack is like an inside joke between me and my friends. i relate to them on the loving curious george train

saylorkendall... the couple that you are... i am so interested in their story and i'm so excited to see what you write of them in the future <3 there's about a thousand ideas for writing songs together i have bouncing around in my brain and i'll play them like a movie in my head until i get your take hehe

poor elisa!! that must have been so scary :(( i feel like everyone had like one freak accident as a child and knowing that about her humanizes her so much more than you already have been... god i love her so much

the wren and olive one has me falling to the floor and shaking my fist at the sky bc that's literally me and my sister rn both of us had to watch over the garden wall apart this fall when we normally watch it together 😭😭

anddd idk if you wanted four for each, but here's the first few things that came to mind

roxy has been journaling since she was 10! she started writing things down during the day to tell her dad when he got home from work because she was tired of forgetting important things she wanted to share. she also used it to cope with her tougher feelings when he wasn't around to talk to. it just kind of stuck as she grew older and eventually turned into the songbook-journal hybrid she has now. she's got a bunch of the same type of moleskin notebooks in her room in all different colors detailing so much of her life

daisy submits some of her artwork to the chesterfield county fair every year!! she's never won a blue ribbon, but she does love getting to share some of her favorite spots around chester through her landscape sketches. that's her main art subject, but sometimes she draws her friends and family for fun! she thinks this blends with her want to be a historian pretty well - she could sketch out the historical scenes she studies to help provide a visual addition!!

though cassette tape is her favorite music format, rox knows that's not super practical in her day and age... so she saved up the money from her job at the radio station and bought a bright blue iPod to download (read: rip from limewire) her more recent music taste. she's usually listening to music when she's alone; she doesn't really care for silence !

daisy's brother jay-jay is older than her by 2 years! they're very close and confide in each other about nearly everything. he's looking into culinary schools now that he's graduated high school and she's terrified of being separated from him :( they've been around each other their entire lives and she doesn't really understand why he wants to go to school so far away from their home

[roseofithaca]

Don't Wake Me Up

Follow on from Lost Little Witch, ft @idiotwithanipad 's OC Amy.

-

"Uhh, hi?"

Silver sat upright, turning her head towards the voice. A head has poked itself out from the fridge door; black hair and a chunky pair of earphones framing the face of a girl her own age.

"Woah, sorry, uhm...Didn't mean to disturb you, or if you were planning on sleeping here...on the floor, if that's something you do." The girl apologised when she saw Silver's stricken face, fear clenching in her chest at being discovered.

The Pagan didn't reply. Keep mouth shut. Talking is useless anyway.

"This probably looks weird as fuck, right? Honestly, I don't make a habit of hiding in the fridge. Just that one of the waiters left an open can of Monster in there and I didn't want it to go to waste." The strange girl gave her a crooked smile.

None of those words made much sense. Why were there waiters in the house? Alison could barely afford to have builders on the site, let alone her own staff. What was a monster doing in a can in the fridge?

At least this was beginning to feel more like a regular dream, in that it had moments of complete nonsense.

Silver hugged her knees to her chest and waited for the strange girl to leave.

"Ohhkay, how about we start over." Instead of disappearing back inside the white container, she stepped out, wearing a baggy black hoodie, a blue tartan skirt, ripped leggings and a pretty kickass pair of boots beneath some beige legwarmers. Silver blinked. Her kind of style...

Of course her brain would invent something new but also familiar.

The girl sat on the floor in front of her, crossing her legs.

"I'm Amy. I died here nearly ten years ago. Choked on an energy drink. Trust me, I wish that was a joke." She snorted, then picked at her legwarmers, "I like your boots. They're pretty sick."

Sick? Why would she like them if they were sick? Is she making fun of her, like the girls at school?

Silver wants to compliment her boots. Her mouth opens, but the words die before reaching her tongue.

There was a pause as the other girl seemed to struggle to keep the conversation going one-sided.

"Humphrey said you're a witch? That's awesome. Did you ever, like, curse anyone?" She then bit her lip; "Oh fuck, sorry if that's offensive or anything. I'm just going by what I've seen in movies. You like horror films? They're some of my favorites but most of these guys are proper scardey cats!"

Silver's lip twitched in the corner as a memory threatened to re-emerge from the depths. Movie night. Her choice. Blair Witch Project. Everyone, including Alison and even Robin, cowering behind pillows or the sofa as the protagonists descended into the basement.

Has the girl seen it? There was almost no gore in the film, would she think it tame by some of the other stuff she's probably seen? She should ask. She wants to ask.

Silver takes a breath and opens her mouth.

Then shuts it.

Amy seems to take note of the failed attempt. She shuffles forward. Silver flinches, hands trembling.

"Look....I know you can speak." She said, bluntly.

Silver gasped, frowning.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I just heard you whispering while I was in the fridge." Amy said, defensively. "The others all think you just forgot how to but...You can still talk. Can't you?"

Whimpering, Silver hugged her knees and shook her head. No, no, no, no.

How much had she heard?!

"Hey! I get it!" Amy said, raising her hands, "I'm not always the most sociable person either. This is probably the most anyone has got me to talk, so well done. My first week here I barely spoke to anyone and hid in my room because they all kept trying to poke their nose in. Well, you know what they're like."

The Pagan continued to pick and pinch at the sheaves on her hands. Yes. The others could be very...overwhelming. Or they had been to her at first, then she appeared once a month to annoy them all in kind.

"Robin and Kitty are cool though. They're probably my best friends, even if Robin likes to act more like an irritating uncle most of the time." Amy continued, "Kitty's fun but can sometimes be too much energy for me, especially in the mornings. Pat's not too bad. The others, depends what mood I'm in. Mary, I..."

"Ma."

Amy paused for a moment at the single syllable uttered from her new companion.

"Yeah, Mary...I mean she's always been kind, but...I always thought she was quiet. Always looked a little sad when she thought no one was watching. I can see why now." She said, softly.

Guilt twisted inside Silver.

"Ma..." She didn't want Mary to be sad. She shouldn't be sad anymore. Not after all this time. She's moved on, surely. No one would still be crying over her.

"She seems over the moon now though. The moment she saw you in the basement was the happiest she's ever sounded." Amy continued, "Oh! And those guys, the plague ghosts? They're kinda like family to me too. Sometimes I get along with them better than the upstairs lot. We, uhm...have similar health issues. Don't worry, I ain't infected, ha." Amy chuckled, "Not with anything contagious. But they...They get me. But still not as much as Humphrey. Or 'Dad', I should say."

Silver met her eyes, brow furrowed in confusion. She could let all the other random info wash over her like nonsense but that...was a strange detail.

"Yeah, can you believe it? I died and ended up with a dad." Amy smiled and rolled her eyes, "Not exactly what I imagined I'd get in Heaven but....I never had a dad, so the bar was on the floor. And he's....He's always been there for me. Patient with me, more than most are. So, few years ago, Alison made it all official. Proper certificate and everything. And now I'm officially Amy Bone! Fuck, if I told my friend Shan that I'm now technically a 'Lady', she'd pull a stitch from laughing her arse off."

Silver blinked.

"Humphrey has no daughter."

The words came out as clear as day. Autonomous.

Amy gave her a funny look, "Well, not by blood he don't, no, but as he said, that don't mean anything. He wants to be my dad and I'm cool with that so he's my dad."

"Humphrey has no daughter."

She repeats it. Fact. Break the rules. Disrupt the matrix.

Amy tenses and shuffles back a bit.

"He might not have when you were around but he does now. You got a problem with it?" She asked, defensively; "Or with me?"

Silver slapped the floor beside her.

"You don't belong here."

"What?" Amy startled.

"You shouldn't be here! Wrong! You're all wrong! Wrong! Wrong! You don't belong here! Go away!" Her voice rose with each syllable, her hand slamming on the floor with enough force to crack a tile if she were real.

"Fucking Jesus Christ!" Amy jumped to her feet; "Who the fuck are you to tell me where I belong?! You think I chose to die in this place!? You don't think I tried to escape for the first few years?! Or make myself disappear like you did?!"

Silver gripped her hair and closed her eyes.

"Stop talking! Stop talking! You're not real! None of this is real! It should all be the same, always the same, but you're not, you're new! New and wrong! New and WRONG!"

"Fuck you, you crazy witch bitch! I'm not the one who should leave! You can do us all a favour and go back to the fucking dirt!"

"STOMPY!"

Both girls froze as Robin passed through the wall in time to hear Amy's tirade. She looked at him, her eyes red with angry tears.

Mary followed in shortly after, quickly rushing to where Silver sat.

"Darling girl! You scared the deadings daylights outta me!"

She knelt beside the quivering girl and tried to gather her into her arms.

But Silver continued to glare at Amy, as if she was the main disturbance here. For the tortured Wiccan, she was. She was the anomaly. The house becoming a hotel and Alison moving away were all changes based on things her mind would have caught before. It made sense she would dream about.

But never before has her mind conjured a whole person. A girl with her own backstory and personality. A girl who was trying to be her friend. It was all strange and new enough to be....real.

And it can't be. It can't ever be.

"Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!" She points a shaking finger at Amy before trying to scramble away from Mary's worried embrace; "Get away, get away, get away, get away..."

Amy grit her teeth, struggling to hold back tears.

"I was trying to be friendly. Fuck that." She scoffed.

Robin's brief anger cooled into sympathy. He wiped her face with his sleeve.

"It fine. Go find dad. We sort this." He told her, gently.

Silver continued to mutter and cry, utterly hysterical, as the girl turned to give her one sad look before disappearing through the door.

Her absence didn't solve anything.

Why isn't she waking up? Why isn't she back in the dirt? How can she feel the warmth of Mary's hands on her face? When Robin comes to kneel beside her, how can she feel his furs?

Stop it. Stop it.

Don't make it real. Don't make her want to stay.

He won't like it if she tries to stay.

[wabitwithadot]

I really like pantufa the cat. Ft Chainsaw Tail!

I really like VAdaPEGA's work in general, not only their serious stuff, but also what im going to define as "serious shitposts". I unironically enjoy stuff like SIivagunner or Rave Story (a cave story mod) that start start off as a joke and never really loses the joke, but is so high effort and good that is suprising. Some might see it as a "waste of potential" but that kind of stuff really tickles a really specific part of my brain, maybe its because I watched SIivagunner when I didnt even know what Vinesauce was and just did it because of funy Flintstones theme and videogame OST mashups. Btw shoutouts to SIivagunner for showing me the existence of Vargskelethor Joel he is like one of my top streamers.

Btw Btw I also really love games that really selfish in the best way possible, maybe I should make a Huge Ass Post™ to explain what I mean by that, but to try and condense it, I enjoy the "Here's my OC that used/still represents me as the main character, btw here's a bunch of inside jokes, people you probably dont know and crystal clear inspirations from popular media, deal with it" I 100% explained that wrong and I should really gather my toughts about that kind of games, but the work of Unlimited Trees, VAdaPEGA and to some degree Patricia Taxxon are the only ones so far that that managed to hit that part of my brain and I REALLY love it.

Go and support VAdaPEGA's work you losers.

[toastbunnyart]

OC-tober • Day 2 • "As a horror movie character"

So this drawing is kind of an inside joke with myself but I hope its still enjoyable to those who dont live in my brain haha

ft. my oc Reed (they/she/he) as Freddy Krueger

wolf boy go rawr- *gets shot*

prompt list by @tantum-tenebris

[accirax]

I'm kinda embarrassed to admit that I haven't stopped thinking about the Dan & Alec double greeting idea since I first brought it up.. 😅 I've practically fallen in love with it and I really want to see someone make it happen one day~! Here's some more ideas my brain popped out:

The buyer asks if the two have ever heard of or watched Sam O'Nella (weird starter, I know). I like to think Dan knows the guy pretty well and has enjoyed watching his videos since he was 14 (he and his friends probably make silly inside jokes or quote random stuff from his videos all the time); he'll probably have to explain to Alec who he is and maybe recommend some vids to him since they are equally very hilarious & informative. [ In case you've never seen this youtuber before here are some out of context clips to give you an idea of what his content is like - HERE and HERE ]

2nd Part to #1, the buyer also asks if they watch Casual Geographic (Love this guy, highly recommend checking out his channel if you haven't yet) - I guess Alec would probably be *slightly* more familiar with this guy (maybe stumbling upon a video/short of his once or twice on the rare occasions he scrolls through youtube), as for Dan, yeah he watches a lot of his vids too.

2nd Option, the buyer asks Dan for more info on his sister, i.e. what she's like, what are her hobbies/interests, is she older or younger, etc. (until we get confirmation otherwise, I'm kinda latching onto the headcanon of him and Frannie being fraternal twins) They also ask Alec if he has any siblings of his own (I highly doubt he does but it would be nice to get a confirmation either way). Afterwards, the two will end the greeting with buyer's song request, the chorus of Rambley Review by RecD ft. OtterBoyVA (or maybe the whole first verse & stuff together with the chorus if there's enough time)

3rd Option, in regards to the fear factor challenge in S1, the buyer asks the two where their fears originated from. Not sure what to say for Alec's part when they discuss it but I do picture Dan's story going something like this - "I think I was around 9 or 10. It was late autumn and I was looking for a coat to put on so I could go with mom & Frannie somewhere. Once the coat was on, I started to feel this... thing tickling my upper arm down by my elbow. I brushed it off at first, but then it started to make its way up to my shoulder and into my neck. Next thing I knew this big, lanky, brown house spider was coming out of the collar and crawling down my arm! After it was *nesting* inside the sleeve of my coat!" ... "Yikes." was all Alec could say. 😆 "Yeahhh... I was never the biggest fan of spiders tbh, but that day only amplified my distaste." He wraps his arms around himself as he shudders, "I couldn't wear jackets and coats for MONTHS after that. No matter how cold it got. 😖" - If there's still time in the video left after reliving their personal traumas, the boys will finish it off by singing the buyer's requested song. "Tom's Diner" by DNA & Suzanne Vega, just the first verse.

apparently tumblr won't let me submit a post that starts in a numbered list... functional website challenge failed yet again.

i hadn't heard of Sam O'Nella before! in fact, my first thought was that you were talking about Sal Manella from Ace Attorney, which would have been an even weirder starting point. the guy's art style does look kind of familiar, though. i could definitely see Dan and Alec bonding over edutainment content like this!

also never heard of this guy! he's got a lot of views, though. i continue to evade tiktok...

full agree that people should ask contestants more about their potential siblings in general. sibling dynamics are a really interesting lens through which to view characters... even if i always forget to give my own OCs siblings 😅 do you think either Alec or Dan would be familiar with what Indigo Park is? (i wasn't)

well, who needs the official greeting now that you've already written out exactly what would be in it? (/j) also, yay, finally a song i recognize! i listened to Tom's Diner a decent amount as a kid. i would hope that one of them would make a sassy remark about Tom opening a donut-themed diner, too. with our powers combined, we can make this greeting ourselves! ... other than the voice acting.

if you had to pick, would you prefer that the first Dan double greeting be with Alec, Drew, or someone else? 👀

[ovrtimelove]

i actually have a lot of kpop idol ocs with one of my friends, and we make 'fanfic' aus of them heehee. we even have kpop fic author ocs???? lmk if i cooked, u guys (THE LINKS AND USERS ARE FAKE. THEY JUST LEAD TO "https://domain.ext/path/")

anonymous asks : miss nainai!! welcome back to tumblr 🫡 its been a while. have you read any fics you want to suggest 2 us? naizu-visualz : ahhhh thank you so much for the wb o(￣▽￣)ｄ !!!! nainai's class' field trip was very fun, and i read many physical books lol. if im allowed to recommend from the selection there, i enjoyed jack reacher lolol.. it might sound unexpected, because it is mystery and thriller, but i like any genre of book as for fanfic, hmmmmm :3 it's very hard to choose when there are so many good ones... i'll list the ones i remember off the top of my head (≧∇≦)ﾉ !! but i might make a big post? hehe our weathered hearts will remember by @.88czns. myungyun, chaptered, finished. if you enjoy past life trope and want to see reincarnations too, owhwr is a good read for you :D!! it has many emotional moments that can resonate with one's heart. the author has gotten comments and asks that say they've cried to the fic many times.. that means its very good!! i also cried and sent something to her. TT... if you find that you want more after the ending, don't worry!! there is an am:vl spinoff sm!au where they have frequent reappearances, even through the children's banter lol ヾ(≧▽≦*)o blood of the covenant by @.ryungswr. myungyun, chaptered, finished. religious themes, vampire!myungdae, and 1900s vibes, all wrapped into one?? nainai never really thought that it would work with myungyun, but considering bite me era, i dont think i should be surprised.. the way yongsun was handled here made me gasp!! his character was very iconic (as much as i hate to say it LOL) and impacted the story.. poetically written, give it five stars o(￣▽￣)ｄ... if you finish reading it but want more, there's a crack au and a no-schedule 'sequel'! sunflower and angel's trumpet by @.0425zz. lunette, florist!linette x mafia!dailu, chaptered, ongoing. i was a casual dreamie listener, but this made me look into the group even further.. if you like old money aesthetics, double life, and very dynamic character dynamics, please read this story.. the characterization is so fun and refreshing, and there are direct references to sweeties' inside jokes lol. there's even ANGST!! AND I THOUGHT SWEETIES WERE ALLERGIC TO ANGST!!!! /HVYJ....... and it's so well done...... it will make you cry. TT....... chapter 57 'poppy' is nainai's biggest opp. (╯▔皿▔)╯!!! grrrr i will get you, zizi.. bite the bullet by @.88czns and @.mawuwamaz. ot6 rdwy (myeongyoko, magnetz, flowerz) ft. dreamie, mafia au, multi-fic series, ongoing. btb is not one fic, but multiple inside one named bundle! it is basically many stories set in the same universe with the same characters lol. my personal favorite is the flowerz one, because while the dynamic is similar to sunflower and marigold.. there is something more shocking when you get to the middle point hehe. btb has too many good things to talk about, so nainai suggests that you check it out for yourself and leave a reblog!! 🙇‍♂️ we are endless by @.endeulset. post-disbandment, ot7, chaptered, finished. nainai believes that this one is the most emotional, especially for endeuls.. two chapters cover one member (except for seongsu2 who stick together in their chapters) and detail speculations, how they feel about separating from czn and skytali, staying to work there (like sunwoo, jeonghui, and jiyoon), and even having a special chapter inspired by subin's twitter post with the bunnies at the restaurant.. it's very nostalgic and melancholic, your heart feels calm as you read ^^. as an endeul, it made me feel happy for the members, knowing that they've gone on paths that they know they'll be truly happy with.. but they'll still find ways to be together that's all!! maybe nainai will make a bigger post with all her recs, but that's for another day..

i wanted to make nainai's blog real (i even made a sideblog) but with school, ill be too busy to manage it lol.

[wishpact]

mak / kai. she/they. 18+. est. independent GENSHIN IMPACT MULTIMUSE ft canons and ocs. selective & activity will vary. feel free to send any questions, ims are open, and discord is available to mutuals! unaffiliated with fandom.

active blogs: shackld, mischiiefs, damagecompilation, ojustice, insamsara, dcgfight, dominihilist, angeliicon

RULES / MUSES

OCs currently without a doc but still available:

Kaito / 20 / Agender (He/they) / FC: Zero from TOF / Pyro Claymore / A blacksmith living on the edges of Fontaine, Kaito isn't interested in trials or entertainment but rather the steady flow and trustworthiness of his work. Short but strong, calm but merciless, he isn't a fan of people messing with him and will make swift work of tresspassers.

Haoyu / ??? / Genderfluid (Any) / FC: Lee from Arknights / Hydro Polearm / A Fatui Agent formerly from Liyue but now living underwater in Fontaine, Haoyu is of dragon-origin and finds nothing sweeter than the down-on-their-luck victims begging for more time to pay off their debt. He also knows quite a bit of healing magic, but doesn't use it on just anyone. Why would he heal someone he doesn't like?

Arjun / 23 / Demiboy (He/they) / FC: Ethan from Arknights / Dendro Catalyst / Arjun is a chameleon-hybrid, currently studying in the Akademiya. Thanks to his ability to camouflage into his surroundings, he can relatively get by with ease and not worry about anyone interrupting his studies. A blessed ability too, considering what he's researching most would try to stop. The dead should stay dead, but Arjun wants to push that boundary and see if the dead could walk again. He's always been surrounded by it, death, thanks to a plague that wiped out his village. He'd been taken in by the Akademiya, who told him he shouldn't feel bad for being the sole survivor but Arjun was the opposite of distraught. He was thrilled, he was curious and soon shot up his class by drive alone. It was around that time that some students noticed some of their stuff has been going missing, Arjun using his camo to his advantage to do anything to get ahead and fund his research. But he couldn't do this constantly so he turned his attention to those who wouldn't notice. The dead he was trying so hard to revive and dug up every so often, taking their things as well as trying out his experiments on them.

Shouya / 20 / Cassgender (He/they) / FC: Aak from Arknights / Pyro Catalyst / As a young boy living on the outskirts of Inazuma, Shouya's homelife wasn't the best but he managed. With cruel and strict parents, it often drove him to his limit and one harsh night was when he received his vision and then the house (and his folks) quite literally burst into flames with his bottled up emotions and there, in the ashes, the villagers around found one feline boy grinning and laughing like it was the funniest thing ever. Regarded like the devil, Shouya left soon after that, vowing to himself he'd never bottle anything up again even if that meant leaving scorch marks and ashes everywhere he went.

Roch Fournier / 19 / Agender (They/them) / FC: Tabito Karasu from Blue Lock / Anemo Catalyst / Born the youngest in a huge family, instead of being spoiled like the babies often were, Roch was treated as the spare. Always the last to be picked, the last to be in the know and had every secret and inside joke kept from them. Their siblings treated them as the scapegoat and parents seemingly forgot they were there. And one day, Roch just had enough and left one night as it wasn't like anyone would notice otherwise. But the kicker was, it wasn't that they were always chosen last but rather, it only felt like it and Roch was just stuck in their own delusion that they were always the victim and didn't notice the array of missing person posters that arrived the morning after. They were gifted with an Anemo vision the moment they chose life for themselves however, but instead of training with it in combat, they manipulated it to their will and learned how to carry people's voices on the wind so they'd always know what was being kept from them. Soon, they knew everyone's business everywhere and used this to become an info broker and be the top dog for a chance.

Feliks / 25 / Demiboy (He/they) / FC: Horropedia from Reverse 1999 / Visionless

Former Fatui soldier but got gravely injured on the field (havent thought about where/how yet) so he retired very young

Still remains in Snezhnaya, doing odd jobs for the Fatui that call for a lighter or stealthier touch

Kind of an errand boy / gofer

But is pretty much a genius when it comes to blending in and working undercover

Jack of all trades, The Idea GuyTM

Designed the blueprints for the skirmisher's weapons

Doesn't have a vision but tbh he doesn't need one