#he continued that he helped Cori to be the man that he is today

[valhargreeves]

Corintheus at cereal convention except it went differently,

Dream entered the hall with a name tag.

A nametag like all the guests were wearing. Of course The Corinthian had been surprised when he spotted Dream mid speech but no more shocked than the fact that what was said on Dream's nametag.

It said, "HELLO, I am The Corinthian's Husband."

Fucking hell, his face immediately turned red in irritation and embarrassment. He got off the stage abruptly and walking angrily to Dream. "What is this?"

"This is... me." Dream twirled his long ass coat, showing it off and smiling softly for a millisecond. "I'm not sure what you are referring to."

"No." He facepalmed, then pointed to the nametag. "That. What do you think you're doing?"

Dream had the audacity to look like a sad wet kitten that Cori didn't appreciate the dramatic long coat.

"Well....I needed one to get in-"

"No you fucking didn't you know that! Of course you followed that kind of rules."

"I may be a king, but I still have to be polite upon entering someone's...territory." Dream stated like it's the most important thing at the moment, when they both know their reunion is of destruction and unmaking, and revenge.

"Not the point, but you're fucking embarrassing me right now. What were you thinking?"

"Tch. Language, Corinthian."

Cori pulled his hair in frustration.

"Surely it isn't so bad... they all know...that you're gay?"

"Of course they know!"

"Then I don't see what seems to be the problem." Dream shrugged.

A silence.

"I have gotten married before, I know how to be a husband. If people got suspicious." convinced Dream. LIKE THAT WOULD HELP. AND NOT THE POINT.

"Nah, all your lovers left you."

Dream's face darkened in silent rage. If he kept going Dream wouldn't hesitate to unmake him right away.

"Sorry. Uh."

"It's...fine." Dream waved away.

"I'm learning to be forgiving. And... my husband would stay, wouldn't he?" There goes the threat. He only realized the crowd were paying attention to them the whole time when they made an "awww" sound. Someone yelled "just say yes dumbass or I'll steal that twink!" Remind Corinthian to kill that bitch later.

"Okay. I'll stay. And come home." The crowd cheered in support as Dream's face brightened in happiness. He attempted to smile as an angel would but failed miserably. Dream's smile isn't beautiful, they're scary as hell and Cori didn't know if the king ever noticed some people weren't made to smile. However the reward is appreciated just the same, he'd take what he could get.

"That's what I thought."

Another day, another Dream of the Endless getting whatever the hell he wanted.

-

Some other day;

Again, they're in the Waking world. They've compromised that Corinthian would no longer hunt down the humans. Unless they really, really deserved it. Dream could look the other way every once in a while.

Some rando who is Corinthian's fan: Hello, Corinthian I'm a fan of your works!

Cori: thanks

Them: and this is...? (They look at Dream)

Dream: you don't know who am I?

Them: no...am I supposed to?

Cori: (please, please control your temper. Don't cause a scene in the Waking world.)

Dream: I'm the Corinthian's Husband. 😊

[lulunothulu]

“Not a Reader”

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake finds one of your romance books and decides to read it. He thinks it would be funny to quote it to you.

Content: Just fluff 😂

Everyone thank @fanficmom94 for this idea (Most of these book quotes are fake btw lol)

Jake wasn’t being nosy. No, he was…being resourceful.

A few days ago, Jake caught you reading one of your romance books in the living room when you thought he was still at work for the day. He knew you loved to read, but he never guessed you’d read romance.

Specifically, smutty romances.

No, when Jake saw you turn beet red at the sight of him walking into the living room and the way you closed your book…it told him all he needed to know.

So now, he was on a mission to find said book and read it before you got home from work.

Why would he do that on his one day off? Because 1. He wanted to know why you turned so red. And 2. He loved seeing you flustered. The fact that after reading something it made you get up from the couch and straddle him, also helped motivate him to look for the book.

If he could laid and see you get flustered, he’d be golden.

Where could you have left a dirty book?

He smiles to himself when he remembers the bookshelf he bought you a while ago came with a square box container. He knew it in his bones that it was in there.

He grabs the box, the wool fabric scratching against his calloused hands. He peaks inside and smiles to himself.

I knew it.

Pulling your book out, he turns to the first chapter and gasps. The first scene opens with the main character in the middle of receiving oral.

Jake’s immediate reaction is to close it because what the fuck? He opens it again, going back and reading the chapter before continuing on to the next.

Before the knows it, he’s three books into your collection when he hears the garage door opening. He almost tears a page while he’s scrambles to put the book (and box) back where he found them.

“Jake!” You call.

“I’m coming!” He responds.

Jake looks in one of the mirrors in the hall and almost laughs—his cheeks are bright red.

By the time he gets downstairs, he hopes his cheeks are back to normal but seeing as your brows lift, they didn’t.

“Are you okay?” You ask, a smile creeping on your lips.

“Mhmm,” he smiles. He kisses you before pulling you into him by the hips. “I missed you today.”

“Did you?” You ask. “On the one day you have off?”

“Yes,” he gruffs. “I especially missed the way ‘you look kneeling before me’.”

“What else did you miss?” you ask, not catching on to what he’s implying.

“I missed the way your lips ‘caress the nap of my neck’ and how you ‘call me your mate’.”

You pull away from him, eyes narrowing. “Where did you hear about mates?”

“Oh, I’m not even done.” He chuckles, pulling you into him again. “I especially missed the way you ‘pray to the heavens to let you come from my fingers’.”

“Jake! You read my book???” You cry out, embarrassment rushing to your face in a deep blush.

Jake only laughs, pulling you closer.

“No, get the fuck off me!” You laugh.

“Or what? You’ll ‘grant me pure and total damnation’?”

When you swat at him, he chuckles. “By the gods, Y/N! You can’t keep me away from your ‘ethereal loins’.”

“Now why did you read that book?” You ask, giggling at how weird it sounds coming out of Jake’s Texan drawling mouth.

“I read three of the books in your ‘forbidden box’ and I’m not ashamed of it.”

“Well, Mr.Nosy Butt,” you start. “Did you get to finish the scene where Cori and the dragon man have sex in the air while he’s a dragon?”

“Honestly I tried to block that out,” he admits.

“How about the scene where Solari and Camden have sex in the bathroom with all the steam?”

He pretends to think. “Actually, you might have to demonstrate how they’d do that.”

You hum, grinding into his hips before kissing him. “Well I guess we have our work cut out for us tonight.”

Before you can ask, you’re over Jake’s shoulder and he’s practically running up the stairs to y’all’s bathroom, excited yelps falling from your lips.

Good googly moogly, I’d love to try those scenes with Jake 😏

[my-heart-beat-for-anime]

The snowflake

young president coriolanus snow x first lady reader

WARNING: snow is out of charakter, i am delulu, i can change him

Friend.

Ally.

First love.

Partner.

And now the husband. The man who slept soundly next to me meant all this to you. The sun poured into our shared bedroom along with the cold air coming in through the half-open window. As a result, Cory and I huddled together in our sleep to protect each other from the cold. I looked at his face buried in my shoulder, his quiet breathing made me smile and I kissed the top of his head feeling him start to wake up. “Good morning dearest,” he murmured in his morning voice. "Good morning love, I was afraid you wouldn't wake up," I replied. “Who would want to wake up if they could sleep next to you for the rest of the ages,” he growled back. “But you're too sweet. I laughed at his flattery. However, I rewarded him with a kiss on the corner of his mouth and began to slowly get up from the bed., Don't forget that today we have an interview with Lucky and...” my sentence was interrupted by an announcement. a rush of nausea that suddenly came over me.,, Are you okay , darling." Coriolanus shouted with panic in his voice as he quickly tried to get out of bed.,, Yeah yeah I'm fine.” I waved my hand at him to calm him down.,, You sure it looked bad so we can cancel the interview " to quickly counter., "No, it's fine. I didn't drink much water yesterday, so I felt nauseous. I carefully went to the kitchen where I poured myself a full glass of water and drank it. to have an interview as the first lady of Panem, but my day continued by going to teach students at the academy afterwards.I lectured on the history of Panem and my attitude made me quite a popular professor. Many of your former classmates were content to be representative wives, but I wanted more. I wouldn't mind just being a wife, but I remembered well how boring your professor's lectures were at the academy, thank you for this subject. And thanks to my enthusiasm, the students will also start to enjoy it. Therefore, I did not want to lose my lecture, so I decided to attend despite the nausea and the interview. Coriolanus in turn shared his schedule for the day, which included a meeting with the Minister and other presidential duties, as I liked to call them. After long preparations, I ended up with a dark red velvet dress with a square neckline and black heeled shoes. I quickly grabbed my bag that had my class materials and some corrected tests.

I went out to the entrance door where Coryo was waiting in a red suit and coat and in return he was holding mine which he quickly helped me into. Coryo immediately offered you his arm and carried your bag as you continued on your way to the car that would take us to the interview. Coryo who seemed to be the perfect gentleman opened the door for me and placed my bag in the trunk of the car. Unfortunately, my nausea got worse on the car ride and I was pretty sure I was green in the face. My husband's hand held my hand the whole time, and the third put small rings in it. Fortunately, we soon arrived in front of the studio where we were to give the interview. Coryo immediately got out and opened the door for you to simply get out. He offered me his hand again and together you walked to the studio waving to the crowd that had come to see the President and First Lady. I knew I couldn't show how miserable I felt, so I just smiled and waved. Fortunately, the interview went very quickly and all that was needed was for you and Cory to confirm that you will try your best in your new position and lead the Lord to a better tomorrow. After the interview, I said goodbye to Cory and started walking to the academy. Coryo offered to take me by car, but I insisted that I would rather walk. The second thing was that I thought the fresh air would help my nausea, which only got worse. I reached the academy within ten minutes and immediately entered my classroom. I had about five minutes before the students came in and your lesson started. Everything went well at the beginning of the lesson, the students answered my questions and everything went smoothly. But my nausea only got worse and I even got a headache. Suddenly my eyes went dark and my head was suddenly very light. Around you, you heard screams and commotion, someone was shaking my shoulder and talking to me. The darkness welcomed me into its arms and I lost consciousness.

Coryo pov:

I was just signing the cooperation agreement when the landline I had on my desk suddenly lit up. The number called was my wife's number. It was weird because she was supposed to be giving a lecture at the moment, but it was even more disturbing because I knew (Y/N) would never just interrupt her lecture. So I immediately picked up the receiver and a distraught young man's voice was heard on the other end. "P-Mr. President, Mrs. Professor has o-passed out and we don't know what m...ow." the distraught boy had to get a slap on the head. "What's wrong with my wife?" I shouted to the other side. There was silence for a while, but finally a mature female voice answered, "I'm sorry president, but the students here panicked, your wife passed out and was just taken to Frenill Hospital.",,Okay, thank you." he thanked the woman on the other end of the line and hung up. I immediately called my driver and rushed to headquarters. The whole time I was going to the hospital, I was wondering what happened, she has some kind of illness or someone poisoned her, my thoughts were running everywhere that I didn't even notice that we were already standing in front of the hospital. . I jumped out of the car and ran to the hospital reception hall. I ran to the counter but before I could open my mouth the nurse informed me that (Y/N) was in room 208. I went up to the second floor where I finally found her room and immediately burst inside. she lay conscious, but terribly pale, and had a drop in her hand. I went to her and stroked her hair.,,Hi, what happened." I asked her with a soft look. "I don't know, it got worse and worse and then I passed out, when I woke up, I was here. she whined.

Your view: Coryo was gently caressing me when suddenly the doctor came in. “Hello Mr. and Mrs. Snow, I'm here to tell you the test results. Coryo grabbed your hand and put the tranquilizer rings on. The doctor suddenly laughed, “Don't worry, that's good news Mrs. Snow, you're pregnant, you're at the end of your third trimester, the baby should be born in six months, congratulations to you both. "said the doctor, leaving the room. I looked at Coriolanus and tried to decipher his opinion on the matter. I was happy myself, I always wanted my child. "Well, I think that empty room in the house will be used at last," he said and he smiled softly and reached his hand over my stomach and began to caress it gently. "I am the luckiest man in Panem."

OUR LITTLE SNOWFLAKE

I hope you like it if you have any request i am always open.

[obitez]

Iris, Chapter 3

Next segment in my Mpreg Tommy fic! featuring Buck's depression baking!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buck looked up from the mixing bowl as the sound of loud knocking reverberated against the door to his loft. 

“I know you’re in there Buck!” he heard the muffled sound of a familiar voice call out to him from the other side. Eddie. 

“It’s unlocked!” Buck called back to him as he started to pour the contents of the bowl into the empty bread pan. Pumpkin spice and walnut bread. This is the third time he had made it, the previous two times hadn’t been exactly right. The first was too dry, the second had an overpowered walnut taste so bad he could barely taste the pumpkin. But third times the charm, right? 

Behind him, Buck heard as Eddie opened the door and walked inside. He started taking off the jacket he was wearing and hung it up on the coat rack Buck had right alongside the door. 

“Really?” Eddie asked as he saw what Buck was doing. “Another cake?” 

“Well, technically this is called pumpkin spice and walnut bread,” Buck said as he pointed at the recipe printed out and held to the fridge by a magnet. “But it can be sweet enough to be considered cake, so I guess you have a point.” 

Eddie sighed at Buck’s explanation. “How many cakes exactly is this one?” he asked. 

Buck hummed, thinking it over. “This is the third one of this type I’ve made. How many bread loaves and cakes in total? I have no idea,” As he opened the pre-heated oven to set the loaf tin inside, Buck pointed at a tupperware container to the right. “If you want a cookie, help yourself. Made them with Jee on Saturday. There’s a mic of chocolate chip and snickerdoodle.” 

Eddie let out a long sigh as he walked around the kitchen island and set his hands on Buck’s shoulders, giving them a small shake. 

“Okay man,” he started. “I think you’ve done more baking in the last two weeks than most people do in two years. How about we go out today, do something else to distract you for the afternoon?”

“Are you saying that I have a baking problem?” Buck asked, growing slightly defensive.

Despite what everyone seemed to be saying, Buck did not have a problem. Baking a slew of cakes, pastries, bread loaves, you name it was a completely normal thing some people do when they get unexpectedly dumped by someone they thought would be the love of their life. 

Eddie didn’t seem to agree. 

“Yes,” he said as he looked point blank into Buck’s eyes. “Just ask the guys on B or C shift, everything you’ve been leaving at the station even has them concerned. And half of them didn’t even know you were in a relationship.”

Buck floundered slightly, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Fine,” he huffed. “I guess you might have a small point.” 

“Good,” Eddie said as he gave Buck’s shoulders a small pat before he removed them. “Then let's go, The guys are playing basketball, but there's no way I’m bringing you back there. I figured we could go to the trivia night at that bar down the street. You liked those right?” 

Yeah, Buck liked those. He liked doing those with Tommy. They went at least once a week. Since then however, Buck hadn’t gone to any trivia nights. 

Before Buck was able to say anything however, Eddie continued. “Tommy isn’t going to be there,” Eddie said. “His crew is on shift, don’t give me that look, I was talking to Cory who works over at Harbor yesterday, he’s on the same crew Tommy is. And the trivia topic is sci-fi movies, you went through a huge binge on sci-fi movies last summer.”

Buck hummed in thought. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to get out of his loft for the evening. He had been spending a little too much time here lately. Between work and home and the grocery store to pick up more baking supplies, Buck couldn’t name any other locations he had been to in the last week. 

“Wait, I just put the bread in the oven,” Buck said. “I can’t just- I can’t just leave it. It will burn, and could start a fire. I’m the only firefighter that lives in this building, I can not be the one that starts a fire here!” 

Eddie let out a breath.”How long does it need to be in the oven?” he asked. 

Buck looked over at the timer. “Another half hour?” 

Eddie shook his head. “Fine then, get changed while we wait,” Eddie said as he pushed Buck in the direction of his stairs and bedroom. “Trivia starts in forty five minutes and it’s a ten minute walk away. We’ll have to leave as soon as you pull the cake out of the oven.”

“Bread,” Buck corrected as he walked up the steps. 

“Whatever,” Eddie waved him off. 

About half an hour later, Buck walked down the stairs, changed out of his sweats and hoodie into a pair of jeans and a clean button down. The kitchen timer went off as soon as he took his last step down. 

“Go on,” Eddie waved Buck over to the oven as he pulled his shoes back on. “Get it out and turn the oven off so we can go.” 

“I’m moving, I’m moving,” Buck said, running over. “Relax.” Buck pulled the pan out of the oven and set it on the cooling rack, then turned the knob to turn the oven off. He then turned around, and spotted a loaf of bagged sourdough bread on the island counter. 

“Wait, before we go, do you want any sourdough?” Buck asked. 

When Eddie gave him a confused look as he pulled his arms through the sleeves of his jacket, Buck held up the loaf of bread. “I have too many, and Maddie and Chimney declined it, I don’t want it to go bad. We can just drop it off in your truck on the way out. The suns already gone down, it won’t go bad.”

Eddie shook his head, forced Buck to drop the bread, and dragged him by the hand out of the apartment. “We’re late, forget the bread. I don’t like sourdough anyway.”

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

[loveforpreserumsteve]

A Whole New Ballfield: "ALN" Story (Pre-Serum Omega!Steve and Alpha!Bucky Modern Domestic AU)

Twenty-Six:

A hush fell over the crowded room when Oliver emerged from the second story of the house with Rory in his arms. There was so much pride and affection from their loved ones that Steve could feel himself getting emotional all over again. And the brit milah had just begun!

As was tradition, Ollie handed Roo to his godmother, Pepper. For a moment, she just gazed down at him, loving that little boy as much as the rest of the family did. But how could she not? Not only was he the son of two of her childhood best friends, but he was the first baby in the best friend group to be born.

Taking the longer way by walking through the kitchen so more relatives could see him, Pepper handed him to his godparent, his kiki. Just as lovingly as the first time they held him, Kit leaned down to give the baby's forehead a kiss.

Joining his husband and his fathers in the dining room, Oliver sniffled and wiped at his tears. Bucky reached over to give his son's broad shoulder a tender squeeze while Rhodey leaned over to give his omega a sweet kiss to his stubbly cheek. Thankfully, Ollie had relaxed since his bubble bath earlier, and gave his mate a sweet, chaste kiss.

Finally entering from the kitchen with a myriad of, "Baruch haba," Kit entered the dining room. As godparent, Kit carried Rory to the designated chair with a frilly, satin pillow.

"Placing the baby upon the throne of Elijah, where among the guests present, will raise Prophet Elijah," the late Dr. Erskine's daughter, Dr. Esme Paxton, instructed Kit.

As Kit did so, the mohelot informed – and reminded – the attendees, "Many years ago, God chose Abraham to spread kindness and monotheism throughout the world, and as a Jewish people, it is our responsibility to continue that work today. Especially the kindness part.

"Ever since God commanded Abraham for him and his sons to be circumcised as a symbol of spiritual connection between man and God, it has been our tradition to do so with all of our sons. We, as the Jewish people, renew this covenant at eight days of life as a sign of their membership in a covenant of people."

Dr. Paxton recited a Hebrew blessing, and got plenty of nodding from the attendees. Some closed their eyes and some verbally agreed. Stepping forward, Bucky accepted Rory from Kit before handing him to the mohelot. Just like her father had done with Ollie and his siblings, she held Rory up so the relatives could take pictures. Winnie, Becca, and Tibby, to name a few of their relatives. And Steve couldn't help but be one of them as he held up his own phone to snap a picture – or ten – of the newborn.

Once Rory started getting fussy at being on display, Dr. Paxton set him on the nondescript baby-shaped mold. As she undid the romper's legs and pushed the soft material up to Rory's stomach, Rory grew fussier. And while Bucky sat beside the table so he could soothe their grandson, Steve did what he could to soothe their son.

Giving Oliver's waist a squeeze, Steve kept his attention on the omega while Rory let out a particularly loud wail. Thankfully, it was a quick procedure, and soon Rory was calmed entirely by his pappy while Dr. Paxton diapered him and snapped the buttons of the romper's legs closed.

Cheers came from their loved ones as Rory was lifted from the mold and handed to Bucky. As another Hebrew blessing was recited, Bucky gently bounced the newborn so his fathers could take a drink from the glass of wine that was passed to Rhodey, then Ollie, and then back to Dr. Paxton.

Smiling, Dr. Paxton introduced, "Barak ben Jacob v'Noach."

Applauds erupted through the house and from California via Cori's facetime call. And while it was clear that Bucky wanted to cuddle their grandson some more, he easily handed him back to his papa. Instantly, Ollie marked his tiny frame before reaching up to wipe the tear tracks on his little face.

"He'll be fine," Steve promised.

Knowing that it was true because he had gone through the same, Oliver just nodded. Of course, that didn't stop him from nuzzling his baby. And a small smile tugged at the corners of Steve's lips because he had been the same.

"Thank you," Rhodey smiled, extending his hand to the mohelot.

"Of course," she easily smiled the one that she had inherited from her father and shook Rhodey's hand.

Pausing his swaying of Rory, Ollie shook her hand too, "Thank you, so much."

"Don't mention it," Dr. Paxton waved off, but still felt the need to assure the still-concerned omega father, "He'll be okay."

Ollie nodded before leaning down so he could kiss his baby once more. Not that anyone could blame him for comforting himself by comforting his son. It was just a natural part of parenthood.

"Ya know," a deep, familiar voice boomed, announcing the beta as he greeted the Barneses, "It's about damn time that you two became grandparents."

"Had to let you be the hot grandpa for a few years," Bucky joked, pulling the man into a hug. "Thanks for comin'."

"How could we not?" Sam good-naturedly scoffed watching as Rory was handed to his mate, T'Challa. "Man, do I miss when Jabari was that age."

"I miss when the kids were," Bucky admitted, looking at their children who were now all legal adults.

After a moment of companionable silence, T'Challa asked Rory, "'You wanna meet your Great Uncle Sammy?"

Rory's eyes were open, but just barely. Clearly tired from his eventful day. Well, his eventful week, really. And while it seemed like Sam did want to get some baby cuddles, he could also see the tell-tale signs and instead decided to let his husband continue holding Rory while he greeted with a rub on his back, "Hey, there little man."

And in the realm of comedic timing, Rory started to wail. Instantly, Sam took a step back while T'Challa brought the crying newborn back to his fathers. All the while, Bucky doubled over in his laughter. In retaliation, Sam brought Bucky into a headlock so he could give the new pappy a noogie. Because no matter how old the two men got, nor how many grandchildren they had, the pair would still act like children when they were together.

And just like the saying, "the more things change, the more they stay the same," goes, Natasha was there to roll her eyes and shake her head at the two men's behavior.

[mint-moon25]

AUGUST - 2023

CRIB - CADDY

PINAY - MOMS - PINAYS

PILIPINAS - DO - U - YES

REMEMBER - THE - 1ST

FEMALE - PRESIDENT - OF

ASIA - HER - NAME - CORY

BLK - MALE - WITH - ACCENT

SMILING - AT - ME - LIKE - HE

LICKED - MY BODY ALREADY

SMELLY - BLK - ASKED - IF - I

FR - THE - UK - I - SAID - 'NO'

MY - ACCENT - ASKED I SAID

BORN - IN - PHILIPPINES - SO

AFTER SEEING - BIG BOOBS

MISS UNIVERSE - 2018 - 2015

NO - ONE - MENTIONS - OUR

1ST OLYMPIC - GOLD MEDAL

SHORT - ZAMBOANGA - GIRL

SMALL - BOOBS - +400 LBS

WEIGHTLIFTING - NO - ONE

REMEMBERS - AFTER THEY

VIEWED - PIA - CATRIONA's

HUGE - BOOBIES - SU SU 2

BLK - CONFIDENT WEIRDO

SMILED - 'WEREN'T U PART

OF - SPAIN - B 4' - DIAL 333

333 YRS SPANISH TORTURE

I - SAID - 'NO' - THEY - WERE

INVADED - MAIN - LIBRARY

BOOKS - WITH - DUST TOO

CELEBRITIES - ROMANCE

SMUT - NOVELS - SHOWS

BLKS - HISPANICS - INTO

YOUTUBE - ALMOST - NUDITY

EXTREME - VIOLENCE - TRUE

HE - WAS - SMILING - AS - HE

LEFT - SAYING - 2 - HIMSELF

'WHEN - THE - PEOPLE - YES

THINK - SPAIN - INVADED PH

THEM' - MOST LIKELY - WERE

TRYING - 2- HELP - BUILD YES

THEIR - COUNTRY - 4 THE US

UNDER - 200 YRS - SAID THE

PHILIPPINES - OVER - 7,000

ISLANDS - WITH - WHITE YES

SANDS - THEIRS - HAWAIIAN

8 ISLANDS - THEY - SAID AS

USA - PHILIPPINES - AFTER

333 YRS - OVER - 500 FAMILIES

BURNT - INSIDE THEIR HOUSES

BY - THE - SPANISH SOLDIERS 2

MURDERED - RAPED - RAVAGED

TIED - 2 - HORSES - DRAGGED

MALES - 2 - CEMENT SIDEWALKS

BLK - MALE - SAID - THINGS LIKE

THIS - HAPPEN - 2 - ESTABLISH

COUNTRIES CALL - THEM - THE

DISCIPLINE - NEEDED - AS - HE

SMILED - NO - ONE - BELIEVES

EST - 67,000 - YRS - MEDICAL

RACE - 4 - PILIPINAS - NOT - A

CONTINUOUS - EXISTENCE IT

IS - LAUGHABLE - 4 - 2023 WE

END - THIS - HISTORY - 4 GOD

SAID - 'SING - AND - DANCE 2

THE - LORD' - 'SING - 2 - HIM A

NEW - SONG' - JESUS - IS THE

HEALER - LET - JESUS - YES

HEAL - THE - SICK - SAME HE

YESTERDAY - TODAY - AND

FOREVER - WE - OBEY - MY

COUNTRY - OF - BIRTH - TO

SING - AND - DANCE - 2 THE

LORD - TITHES - OFFERINGS

WE - DON'T - CAST - OUR PH

PEARLS - 2 - THE - SWINE OF

THIS - WORLD - TIIME - 2 YES

CLOSE - HOUSE - FOIREVER

'SING - AND - DANCE - A NEW

SONG' - CAST - ALL WORRIES

2 - HIM - WE'VE - ALWAYS YES

DELIVERED - OUR - OWN - HAI

WITH - MEDICAL - EQUIPMENT

TIME - 2 - DELIVER - OUR OWN

BABIES - WITH - TOOLS - WE

HAVE - ALWAYS - SUCCEEDED

JESUS - IS - LORD - FELT - ME

FORGOT - 2 - SHARE - ABOVE

BLK - MALE - WEIRDO - WAS

LECTURING - ME - PILIPINAS

WAS - NEVER - INVADED - BY

SPAIN - THEY - WERE - JUST

SHARING - HOW - 2 B - YES A

COUNTRY - LIKE - THE - USA

$200 MILLION - I - THINK YES

PAID - CUBA - TERRITORIES

GUAM - PUERTO RICO STILL

SAME - TODAY - TERRITORIES

TIME - 4 - HDG - BANKS 2 PAY

NON-FLAMMABLE

$500 BILLION - TAX - PAID - 2

BIBLE - 'OWE - NO - MAN -

ANYTHING - BUT 2 LOVE -

HIM' - PAY - UNITED STATES

WHAT - THEY'RE - CALLING

PHILIPPINES - DIDN'T KNOW

HOW - 2 B - A - COUNTRY FOR

ONLY - OVER - 500 FAMILIES

BURNT - 2 - DEATH IN THEIR

YES - WOOD - HOUSES - FOR

USA - NEVER - EXPERIENCED

THAT - 1 TYPHOON - KILLED

OVER - 800,000 - PEOPLE IN

PILIPINAS - USA - CAN'T YES

RELATE - 2 - THAT - ALSO SO

HDG - PAYING - $500 BILLION

4 - LAST - CENTURY - SPAIN's

NEGOTIATION - PAYS - ALL

AMOUNTS - OWED - BY USA

REMOVE - CLARK AVE - NAIA

CLARK - INTERNATIONAL

AIRPORT CLOSING DOWN

BENIGNO AVE

BENIGNO AQUINO JR

INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

BENIGNO CITY - MANILA

PHILIPPINES

CLARK AIRPORT - DISAPPEARS

IN - PAMPANGA - IN - 1 MINUTE

LIKE - THE - MINUTE - RICE

STATE - OF - THE - ART - NEW

INTERNATIONAL - AIRPORT

NEW - LOCATION

HELLO - FRESH

MACAPAGAL - INTERNATIONAL

AIRPORT - REVISING - 2 - BEST

COMING - 2 - ANOTHER PLACE

IN - PAMPANGA - PHILIPPINES

FOR - OUR - COUNTRY - OF PH

BIRTH - 'SARILING - ATIN' - YES

'MABUHAY' - LIVE - LONG

'KABABAYAN' - CITIZENS

JESUS - IS - LORD

MY - NEW - CAFE - 24/7

HOLIDAYS - COMING - 2

'TULOY - PO - KAYO'

MAKATI - MANILA 2

HDG - BANKS - COMING

PHILIPPINE - REPUBLIC

TAX & RELIGION - FREE

MAKATI

MINDORO - ISLAND

'SARILING - ATIN'

'TULOY PO KAYO'

'MABUHAY' - ALL

[hansolmates]

a hero’s journey (m)

summary; jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story pairing; jungkook x editor!reader (f) genre/warnings; best friend’s boyfriend au, slice of life, angst with a happy ending because im weak, pining pINING, everyone’s kind of a mess in their own sweet special way, alcohol use, mentions of ze weed, toxic relationships, mean friends, sex—slight dom!kook, food play, fingering, squirting, heavy use of the petname “pretty girl” bc im weak, strength kink, manhandling (oop!) w.c; 22.2k a/n; woof! my first fic for @goldenclosetnetwork​ 23 | jungkook’s birthday project! this goes out to all the closet romantics *ahem me cough* who doesn’t love pining between a cutie koo? a huge thank u for vivi @eerieedits​ for making this bbbBEAUTIFUL fic banner!  

prompt used: “I should’ve known.”

if you like this fic pls consider giving a like n’share🥺💜🥺💜

It’s so easy to ignore the world. 

Maybe it’s a young-adult thing, but it gets difficult fitting into the 9-to-5 and playing to satisfy bosses that don’t entirely understand your work ethic. Maybe it’s out of complacency, or fear. But you prefer to let the world flow around you and when you’re needed, you’ll act. You’ve reached that point in your life where you enjoy the little things, satisfied by an extra hour of overtime tacked onto your paycheck, a new fabric softener, or finding the perfectly squishy yoga mat. 

You’ve finally started feeling comfortable in your shoes, uncaring as to whether you’re single or drowning in college debt, happy to live a relatively stable life. You’re grateful. There’s nothing more than you need than your happiness, and the love of your friends and family. 

Namely, your best friend from college. Jisoo always joked about how you two “won the lottery” as dorm rooms in freshman year were determined by lottery. Pulling numbers 883 and 884, you and Jisoo snagged a corner spot of the dormitory, leaving you two utterly cramped but utterly close as the years went by. Six years later and it’s still the case, the two of you have grown into talented working ladies. While you may not be able to spend time with each other the same way you did in school, you still care for each other. 

So when Jisoo shows up teary with a rumpled dress shirt and her hair waterfalling out of this morning’s bun, you break out the good alcohol and season three of Jane the Virgin for her. 

After the liquid is warm in your cheeks and you’ve fawned enough over Micheal and Rafael’s love triangle, you let Jisoo ramble. 

Jisoo has downed a whole bottle of soju on her own, while you’ve decided to have a tasteful glass of wine. You’d rather be tired wine drunk than wasted on soju. 

“Jungkook and I had a fight,” she warbles, stuffing a handful of popcorn in her mouth, “it was totally stupid.” 

Your eyes flash, picturing Jisoo and Jungkook in quarrel. They’re the epitome of an Instagram-worthy couple, beautiful and deathly charming to a fault. They show nothing but kindness and sweetness to you whenever you third-wheel, not a lick of anger between them when you’re all together.

So a fight is something surprising. Jisoo and Jungkook, J-squared are a power couple. Saying their names next to each other just emits a sort of energy you can only akin to famous small screen couples like Troy and Gabriella or Cory and Topanga. Jisoo’s Instagram is belly full with sweet selfies of them together, the doe-eyed man always looking completely sweet and gentle to the woman in his arms.

You never piqued Jungkook as the type of guy who would pick a “stupid fight.” And you know Jungkook pretty well. 

Maybe a little too well. 

“He surprised me during my lunch break and he caught me talking to Doyoung and he thought I was flirting,” Jisoo is practically eating her sweater, her head falling between her flannel pyjama sleeves. 

“Doyoung, as in your ex Doyoung?” you raise a brow. 

She groans, glaring at you in earnest. “Not you, too! I told him it was ridiculous to get jealous, and then I told him how jealous I get when he’s around girls and I don’t need to tell him that,” she rolls her eyes, twisting her feet petulantly in her fuzzy socks, “but then you know what he says back?” 

You wince, swirling your wine glass, “That you’re crazy?” 

“That I’m crazy, exactly! How did you—” her bloodshot eyes zero in on you, where you’ve tucked yourself in the corner of the couch. You swirl the ruby liquid in your cup, watching the feet web around the cheap crystal, “you think I’m crazy too, don’t you?” 

You swallow your sigh, taking your time to finish your liquid in languid sips. Uneasy, you wish you could just sink through the couch in order to avoid this conversation. Jisoo’s heart is generally in the right direction, but in terms of emotions she has the kind of sensitivity that you prefer to ignore rather than tread. Jungkook is also equally emotional, but in a different way. He wears his heart on his sleeve, preferring to keep things straight as opposed to bottling it up like Jisoo. 

However the theoretic bottle has reached it’s brim and Jisoo’s tipping, fast. 

“I need to tell you something,” Jisoo is swerving, crawling like an infant on wobbly limbs to reach your corner of the couch. You almost stop her, tell her you can continue this conversation in the morning, it’s what you normally do when she drinks into a stupor. But tears are swimming in her glassy caramel eyes and she’s grappling onto your blanket, resting her head in her lap. 

Her glossy russet strands curtain her head, so you don’t see the expression on her face when she says her next words: 

“Jungkook told me he liked you senior year, and I told him you weren’t interested so I’d have a chance.” 

Wow. So that explains everything.

The memories that you’ve tried so hard to brush away, the feelings you’ve tried so hard and continue to try to suppress, are laid out in front of you on a rusted platter. You could laugh, you could fling the rest of the Pinot Grigio down your throat like fresh water on a hot day and call it a night. 

But instead you choke back your tears, and push her off because you’re hurt.  

Deep down you know you would’ve been less upset if she told you the week after Jisoo and Jungkook called it official. If you knew from the beginning, it would’ve been easier on your heart. But it's been over two years since the past, thinking you’ve been needlessly, stupidly, delusional in thinking that you could’ve possibly had a chance with Jungkook.

Because it could’ve been you. And the reason why Jisoo and Jungkook fought today? Now you know it’s because deep down, they know they’re each other’s second choice. 

You can’t even recall a time where Jungkook and Jisoo were together alone before they suddenly started dating, remembering how it used to be you and Jungkook before Jisoo found him one day in your shared apartment, utterly smitten. And now you know you weren’t delusional, because the feelings and the signals you two were exchanging in senior year was real. 

But it doesn’t stop the fact that over two years have passed. Two years of a serious relationship between Jisoo and Jungkook, and two years of you secretly loving him from an arm’s length. 

“You hate me,” Jisoo removes herself from you, voice trembling. The quick, dark part of your mind wants you to snap back of course I hate you. You’ve trusted Jisoo with your life all these years, she was the reason you got through college so gracefully, why you enjoyed the past seven years of your life. 

But the sentiment is stained, and all you can do is deliver a tired smile and stand up. “I don’t hate you,” you say, “I’m just, really overwhelmed. I can’t lie and say that I’m not hurt,” your fingers clutch the fake crystal in your grasp, and for once you’re thankful you’re not strong enough to break it, “but you two love each other now and there’s no point in dwelling in the ‘what-ifs’.” 

Now that you think about it, when was the last time Jisoo treated you like a best friend? You stare at your wine glass, thinking that the only time comfort is provided in this apartment is when Jisoo is upset, never when you’re upset. 

Jisoo bobs her head senselessly, agreeing to every word. It’s pathetic, seeing her on her knees and her eyes glimmering with the hope that you’d forgive her straightaway. She must feel awful. That’s good.  

You sigh, needing to be the bigger person. “You need to call Jungkook and tell him he has nothing to worry about though, after all, you two have history now. As much, if not more than Doyoung.” 

“Right,” she replies, biting her lip. It suddenly feels like you're talking to a wall, carrying a conversation that's long ended.

“As for us,” you have half a mind to slam your glass on the counter, but instead you give it a heavy hand, letting slowly thump to the coffee table, “I don’t think I want to see you two, for a while.” 

“Understandable.” 

“And I don’t want to help you move out anymore,” I just want you gone.  

“Right,” she whispers. The both of you will be completed with your lease in two months, and Jisoo and Jungkook have decided to move into Jungkook’s apartment. As for you, you haven’t decided as to whether you want to go through the whole process of moving out or looking for a new roommate. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so so fucking sorry. I just was insecure as fuck in college and Jungkook was the first person I met in a long time that helped me feel more… like me.”

You want to say that she's right, she’s selfish. Her excuses aren’t palpable anymore. It’s too late. But if you were in Jisoo’s shoes, you’d think this apology is mere crumbs in comparison to your friendship. Why isn't she trying harder? Maybe because she doesn't know any better. After all, you never told her what you felt for him has morphed into love. 

You don’t even have to ask as to whether she’ll tell Jungkook this or not, you now know honesty is not her style. 

Jisoo doesn’t get a goodnight and a drunken kiss on the forehead like she usually does whenever you two have your late night talks. Instead, she seals herself to her own demise as you slam the door to your bedroom, effectively shutting each other out. 

Work is a bitch the following morning. You’re like molasses, rolling out of bed despite the whole world and its mother telling you to go back to sleep. 

Your feet are killing you as you make your walk to work, deciding to wear a pair of red-backed heels so you can stomp your way through your day. 

Your Wusband (Work-Husband) Kim Namjoon matches you step-for-step, eyes glued to his phone as he catches you on the sidewalk. “Woman on a mission,” he comments absentmindedly, eyes glued to his phone as he follows the click of your shoes to your favorite cafe. 

You spare a glance to your right hand-man, eyeing him appreciatively at his dedication to your morning routine. He’s your favorite co-worker, one who keeps you on time to your meetings and keeps you sane when you want to pull your hair out and dig out a coffin in your little cubicle. Namjoon’s long legs always seem to catch up with you during your workweek, whether it’s to get coffee in the morning or to talk shit about the latest gossip in the breakroom. 

The bell of the glass door tinkles in your ears as you enter the café, relatively busy for the morning rush. While you wait in line, Namjoon ticks off your activity list for today. 

“Meeting with Victoria is cancelled this morning,” you groan in relief, your supervisor Victoria always scares the shit out of you even when she’s not doing anything, “and just the usual proofing and whatever we have to do on the third floor today—can I get a large iced Americano with a pump of caramel? Thanks,” Namjoon moves aside so you can throw your order in as well, “and after work could you stop by Vernon’s? He took a sick day today and he has most of the manuscripts for the next issue.” 

“Done and done,” you swipe your card in the dip, tucking your card away in your zippered pouch. “So like, do Americanos taste any good? Like it’s literally watered down espresso how do you pay to drink watered down tar—” 

Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter. Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter swirling stray sugar crystals with his thumb and putting them in his napkin. What an impeccable display of Virgo energy, absentmindedly cleaning things he has no business doing. You scoff to yourself, recalling this morning that Jisoo got off the phone this morning with a stupid smile on her face. From the mirror image that Jungkook is excluding while he’s smiling on his cellphone like a smitten teenager, it seems like they’ve made up. 

Nevertheless the hurt from last night is still fresh in your bones, and you force yourself to look away despite the fact that your morning pick-me-ups are almost done and are sitting tauntingly next to Jungkook’s elbow. Does he really need to learn against the counter like he owns it? Hair slightly damp from the shower, your heart beats a little faster at the fresh image.His biceps are straining against his charcoal lycra long sleeve, which is slightly damp from his morning run. Snap out of it! You are a mature, working woman who does not swoon in the view of bulgy muscles, especially when the man who owns those muscles is taken. Suddenly there’s a call of your name, and two cups and a paper bag are put in front of Jungkook. 

He blinks, and you immediately pale when you see his eyes flit over your name surrounded by your favorite coral pink beverage. You feel struck as his head perks up at the name and he narrowly makes eye-contact—

“The fuck you’re doing,” Namjoon gripes, shoving your guava iced tea and croissant in your chest, “standing there like a moron as if we don’t got shit to do today.” 

“Sorry,” you mumble, pulling at the brown paper bag to tug a piece of croissant between your teeth. The warmth, buttery pastry melts in your tastebuds. Ah, bread. Nothing like a little bit of carb to make you feel better. 

You’re suddenly thankful for Namjoon’s gargantuan torso from effectively blocking you from Jungkook, hauling you out of the coffee shop like a petulant toddler. He doesn’t even give you a chance to catch another secret look at the object of your affections, making sure you’re back in your work game before you enter the building. Even if he doesn’t know it, Kim Namjoon’s always got your back. 

Or in today’s case, breathing down your back. 

Without your third editor and a hard deadline coming up by the end of the week, you and Namjoon are working in tandem throughout your 9-5 to complete drafts for Big Hit Publishings Arts & Media section. Both of you take turns to bring snacks and feed each other, feeling like reading zombies and slaves to your desk as you remind each other to breathe throughout the whole ordeal. 

In complete honesty you don’t totally mind. Namjoon is a great partner-in-crime, and you both love what you do and do a damn good job at it. You call it “Buzzfeed but with Benefits.” 

And at least for today, you could quell the feelings in your chest from last night and this morning. Sure, you’ve always been okay with the pining you’ve had for Jungkook. The feeling comes and goes whenever it pleases, and since yesterday you’ve been okay with just admiring from afar and being their third wheel. 

However, now the feelings are acutely comparable to a third-degree burn with the help of Jisoo playing with fire. 

With a quiet exhale, you concede in your gaming chair (because it’s just so damn comfy to keep in the office.) You’re an adult and not a petty child, and you will not let this piece of information derail you from your calm, stable lifestyle. 

But honestly? Fuck Jisoo. 

“Let’s go, buckaroo,” Namjoon logs off for you, the cinnamon-y smell of his shampoo effectively waking up your senses, “it’s already 5:30. And you said you’d stop by Vern’s to get his drafts.” 

“Right,” you blurt, mindlessly putting away your papers and snack wrappers in your bag. You can’t believe the whole day’s gone already. 

“Maybe you don’t even have to go to his apartment. Just text him or whatever.” 

“Sounds good, thanks Joonie.” 

“And y/n?” Namjoon gives you a look that causes you to force a terse smile, one you give one too many times to higher-ups at work. It isn’t to insult Namjoon by any means, but you guys are partners, the kind that tell way too much but hide just enough to remain close from afar. “Take it easy, will you?” 

“I will,” you concede, stretching your arms, “I’m def overdue for a massage.” 

“You don’t look sick,” you scoff, taking in the casual look your co-editor boasts as he leans casually against the doorway. 

Hansol Vernon Chwe is the epitome of fluffy, decked out in large electric blue sweats and his russet brown hair curling softly above his porcelain skin. Not only is he your co-editor, but also a friend from college. Not to the extent that you were with Jisoo and Jungkook, but you operated in the same publishing club and managed to get partnering internships that made you the co-workers you are today. You see a little bit of that collegiate youth in Vernon right now, as he looks well-rested and fresh faced despite the fact he probably didn’t apply moisturizer or drink enough water today.

“But you kinda do,” he tilts his head, noting the heels that adorn your feet, “you’re wearing your sexy shoes today, that means something’s going on.” 

“Gee, ever the ladies’ man,” you scoff, getting under his arm to invite yourself inside, “all I want is the completed interviews so we can pick out the best parts and draft them. Then I’ll be on my merry way.” 

“Oh c’mon, we’ve been talking nothing but work this whole damn month. What happened to college when we’d talk hours about House Hunters, the safeness of library sex, that little furry thing in Lincoln Hall’s urinal? That was prime conversation.” 

“Vern, I’m just here for the drafts,” you sit at his tiny kitchen table, glaring at his open laptop.  

“You could’ve just emailed me,” he teases, twisting around his chair so he can rest his arms against the back. “But since you’re here, that means you probably wanna spill some tea but you’re too upset to admit it.” 

“If I talk will you stop talking like that?” 

“Yes. Give me the juicy details. Need some juicy juice.” 

“Nevermind, get out of my apartment.” 

“Uh, this is my apartment.” 

“My point still stands,” you make another face at his outfit, “you look like the blueberry girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.”  

Vernon purses his lips, scooting his chair closer to yours. He’s unfazed by your insult, far used to your defenses being higher up than Fort Knox. He looks up at you with his pretty lashes and deceivingly sweet caramel eyes, leaning his head along the backrest. “C’mon, tell me what’s bothering you,” he says in a gentle tone, coaxing you open. 

He always knew how to do it for you, a little bit of sweet talking and that clear open gaze always reduced you to shreds in university. For him, it always took a good meal and some sci-fi movies to get him to talk. That must be why you’ve stayed friends for so long, you two knew how to connect. 

Finally you crack, kicking off your shoes and hoping the sharp end doesn’t land on his cat. You hear Luna meow in protest but she’s got great reflexes. Unbuttoning the first three buttons of your stuffy blazer, you air out your cleavage, not caring about Vernon’s gaze. He’s seen worse. 

“Remember Jeon Jungkook? Majored in graphic design.”

“Ah, yeah. The guy who like, lived at the gym and the dining hall? Haven’t seen him in a minute,” his eyes seem to glaze over the glory days, reminiscing in the simultaneous safetynet and stressor that made up your early twenties, “didn’t you guys hit it off real well? Like I remember you ditched like—three sci-fi nights to study with him. Who even studies at 1AM?” 

“Yeah, we did,” and you can’t help but frown at as you remember the 7-Eleven runs, the utter warmth you felt when he would wipe a stray rice grain off your cheek, and how happy you felt to laugh so much with him it hurt, “but uh. Jisoo got drunk last night, because they had a fight. And she sort of admitted to me that she sabotaged our relationship and told Jungkook I wasn’t interested in him so they could start dating. Two years later and here we are.” 

A pause. And then, “Want a beer?” 

Vernon doesn’t even wait for a response when he gets up, bare feet slapping against the tile as he prepares some drinks and snacks for you. 

“That’s pretty fucked up,” he practically sing-songs among the cacophony of popcorn pop-pop-popping in the microwave. The aroma of buttery kernels is all but a relief, reminding you of movie matinees, “and like, she knew you liked him! It was totally obvious, even if you didn’t spell it out for her.” 

“Yeah,” you practically gushed to Jisoo those past two months, every waking moment with heart-eyes over the talented graphic designer Jeon Jungkook. 

“I can’t believe Jisoo would keep that a secret from you for so long. Like, can you even trust her anymore?” 

“Don’t know, was she even my bestfriend or was I just a good roommate to her?” you ask. Vernon is holding two beers in one hand and a bag of popcorn by the tips of his fingers in the other, careful to not burn himself. Opening the beer for you, you thank him and take a long swig.

“Well, good thing you’re still not in love with him or whatever. That would really suck. Unless—”

The look on your face says it all. You’re practically snotting into your bottle, your face tucked into your chin as you fight hard to stop the tears you’ve been suppressing for the last two years. “Don’t give me your pity,” you garble, turning away from the sad look Vernon gives you as he wraps his arms around you. 

The tears are soft and gentle, flowing freely onto the cotton of Vernon’s arms as you let it out. 

“‘M’not,” he concedes, rubbing his chin into your neck. He really is a lot like Luna, just like his  cat ready to give you affection. “Let’s just, get some take-out and watch Hamilton or something.” 

He lets you wear his matching sweat suit, lime green, as you order Thai food and rap along to Hamilton’s sick beats. Vernon does a better job keeping the flow, but you’re having a good time being his hype man as he parades around the living room like it’s 1776. 

You go home that night around ten o’clock, feeling noticeably lighter and more relaxed. Be that it may you are still wearing the sweatpants and heels ensemble, you feel comforted. 

The apartment is quiet when you walk in, not a single light turned on. You get a slice of the city lights bleeding in from the organza curtains, which allow you to kick off your heels and hobble to where you think the kitchen counter is. 

Today is Jisoo’s day to cook dinner. You can tell she decided to cook today from the faint smell of Japanese curry and a small unwashed plate in the sink. Whenever it was someone’s turn, they usually left an extra bowl or serving in it for the other roommate when they got home. Unsurprisingly, you find no such thing on the counter or in the fridge. 

You’re not upset, but rather decided. If Jisoo is going to let your friendship fade off with no intention of redeeming herself, then you should give her the same amount of energy back. You realize now the apology she gave last night wasn’t for you, but empty words to make her feel better and mend whatever toxicity she’s created in her own relationships. People like Namjoon and Vernon reminded you that you didn’t need to try and earn other people’s friendships. 

It’s disappointing, but the feeling is all but too familiar. 

If you could describe Jisoo as anything, it would be the color pink. Blushing, beautiful, beguiling pink. The way she flushes when Jungkook does an uncalled for grandiose gesture of romance, or when she wears a hot magenta number when she’s hosting a fashion show. Jisoo is the personification of La vie en rose, unbothered and unabashed.  

But now all you see when you think of Jisoo? Nothing but red. 

With that, you go in your room and untack the polaroid of you and Jisoo at the carnival last month, putting it away in your junk drawer to be forgotten. 

“You’re running away.” 

“Am not.” 

“Are too,” that interjection comes from Vernon’s roommate, Jung Hoseok. He’s been watching you two bicker over work for the past hour while he plays GTA5, failing to get a good hard carry because you and Vernon are too busy discussing whatever finishing touches you need on your final draft. 

“No one asked for your opinion, Jung,” you throw over your shoulder. 

“I’m just saying,” Hoseok flicks his wrist and nabs a tank, “you never wanna go home, you eat all our food, and I found your pyjamas in my laundry basket.” 

“You said your basket was the blue one,” you hiss under your breath. 

“The navy blue one,” Vernon chirps unhelpfully, “not the electric blue one.” 

Hoseok hits “save” on his campaign, disconnecting from his PS4 and stretching his lean limbs. “I mean, we could use a third roommate,” Hoseok jokes, getting up from the couch and grabbing a handful of M&Ms from your bowl, “you do make a bomb mac n’cheese.” 

“Appreciated,” you relent when Hoseok presses a kiss to your cheek and tells Vernon he’ll be back late working, leaving you and Vernon alone in their shared apartment. When Hoseok is gone, you stare at the door, tilting your head, “y’know,” you remark, “Hoseok’s a cool guy, why did I never hang out with him in college?” 

“Because he was stoned the majority of senior year and you just didn’t vibe with that crowd.” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

“But, you’re trying to change the subject,” Vernon carefully untacks your hands from your keyboard, knowing that you two have already been done with this month's issue and you’re now just mindlessly re-reading emails. “You’ve been here since Thursday, and now it’s Saturday. And as much as Hoseok and I like having you around so you can wake me up before we go to work, it’d be nice to throw me a bone and let me in on what you’re thinking right now.” 

You frown, noting Vernon’s large hand covering your laptop closed. He isn’t going to remove his hand anytime soon unless you talk. “Jungkook’s helping Jisoo pack up her half of the apartment this weekend and I don’t want to be there,” you say, short and simple. 

“You miss her?” 

“Yeah,” you admit honestly. You hate this version of yourself, unable to even look at Jisoo nowadays despite the fact you’re under the same roof for the remainder of the month. It’s hard to believe that the roommate from six years ago finally got under your skin, cancelling out all the years of friendship because of one silly relationship, “sad she doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.” 

“Did you talk about it?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you reply despondently, “if she cared at all she would’ve to apologize again by now.”

Vernon figures, and his neutral expression doesn’t change as he leads you to the couch, brushing away Hoseok’s things so you two can get comfy. You busy yourself with the remote, exiting the PS4 homepage to scroll Netflix. 

“And are you trying to get over him?” 

“I mean, yeah,” you have been, but it’s a little hard when you’ve been contentedly pining. It was easy to keep your feelings bottled up because you originally thought Jisoo and Jungkook were meant to be for each other for the past two years. Now you're still pining but ruefully bitter at Jisoo.

“It’s not fair, y’know. She broke girl code, bros before hoes. Or is it chicks before dicks?” Vernon shakes his head at his lame attempt to get you to smile, which works anyway because Vernon’s silly and his sense of humor always gets you a little loose. “It’s your house too, you shouldn’t feel like you don’t belong there.” 

“Well I was supposed to help her move out this weekend, and I’d prefer it if Jungkook didn’t know what was going on.” 

“What?” your friend furrows his thick brows together, tucking his hands under his knees as he leans into your stubborn expression. “You’re gonna let Jungkook go on with his life not knowing that his relationship is based on a lie. That’s not cool. Even if you’re into him, he’s still your friend.” 

Damn, when did Vernon get so good at giving advice? Truth is Vernon’s always been good at dishing advice, you’ve just been privy to what you wanted to reveal to him. The first year or so being together outside of college was always about work, saving each other’s asses to ensure you two got that promotion and aim higher and higher. Now that goal is out of the way, and what better way to reconnect over some shoddy romance straight out of a Degrassi special? 

“I know,” you hug your knees tight to your chest, “when I’m ready, okay?” 

“Okay,” he agrees, because he’s not a pusher, “do you know the best way to get over someone?” 

“What?” 

“The best way to get over someone, is to get under someone," he emphasizes that point with his hands, sliding one under the other with a wiggle of his thick brows.

You slap him on the shoulder, “Vern, you disgust me.” 

“But it works!” 

“I’m not going on Tinder to find a fuckbuddy.” 

“You don’t have to look on Tinder or Tumble.” 

“Bumble.” 

“Whatever,” and his eyes flicker to his lap, where his pale fingertips turn red as he grips the edge of a throw pillow. "If you really don't wanna find someone, I can help." 

Is Vernon offering himself up? He is offering to fuck your brains out in the hope that you could inevitably fuck out your interest in Jungkook? Your eyes flicker over to Vernon's form on the couch, who's tucked in the couch just as you are. 

It’s true that you find Vernon attractive, and to some extent he definitely finds you attractive as well otherwise he wouldn’t have suggested the idea. It’s just that in college you never viewed him in that kind of light, probably because you were always so caught up in Jungkook. But tonight you can’t seem to ignore the eagerness hidden in Vernon’s carmine gaze, and how shiny and touchable his chocolate locks look under the setting sun. 

“I don’t want our friendship to change,” you reply slowly, furrowing your brows. “I appreciate it, but I don’t know. It sounds like a temporary fix.” 

“Can’t knock it if you don’t try it,” and out of curiosity, you don’t shy away when Vernon leans over to you, squeezing himself between the couch so he can tuck you in his arms. “I want to help you, but only if you want to.” 

Maybe it’s the frustration you feel with Jisoo, Jungkook’s ignorance, or the fact that you haven’t felt physical pleasure in such a long time, but you soften into Vernon’s hold. He’s relaxed, nothing betraying him as he waits patiently for your answer. You’ve always admired how much he kept up his “cool as a cucumber” demeanor. He isn’t the type of guy to let life pass him by, but he’s the kind of person who walks along life, embracing the ups and downs like old friends. He’s the ocean waves that crest along the shore, pushing and pulling along without a care in the world. 

He’s the textbook opposite of Jeon Jungkook, which is why you give Vernon the okay to lean in and press his lips against yours. 

His kisses are soft, and he takes great care in making sure you’re comfortable with this new step in your relationship. It almost feels as if you’re cutting corners, and you can’t help but feel a little guilty that you revel in the way Vernon’s hands trail under your too-large t-shirt. 

The pleasure you’ve ached for is there, bubbling low in the pit of your belly. It’s hard to get you out of your mind however, because this man isn’t the one you love. His kisses hold no power, only brief reprieve. Your heart doesn’t palpitate and your palms don’t sweat, you’re just languid. 

You’re greedy and selfish, but you remind yourself that it’s okay to allow yourself of these freedoms, even for a little bit. As Vernon finds your sweet spot that has you rolling your hips against his, you find that temporary fix isn’t a bad start at all. 

When you trudge back to your apartment that night after much reluctance, your face is still flushed and you think you smell a little too much like Vernon’s cologne. But the fact that still stands is that you're satiated, and you feel a tiny percent closer to moving on. 

The television is glowing with a terrible reality TV show, angry brides upset over cake layers or whatever. Jungkook and Jisoo have fallen asleep on the couch, surrounded by half-empty boxes. Jungkook has his arm lazily over Jisoo, her petite body fitting perfectly between his chest and the crook of his neck. 

You scoff when you spy Jisoo's bedazzled manicure digging into Jungkook's bicep, as if someone's going to take him away if she doesn't hold tight.

With stiff muscles you spare one look at Jungkook, ignoring the pang in your chest as you weave between boxes to turn the TV off. Barely an iota of your feelings have dissipated since your previous tryst with Vernon not an hour ago. Looking at Jungkook brings it all back, unfortunately. You suppose the feelings will pass with time. The soft hum of the television ceases, and you’re bathed in a room that feels dark and empty, despite the apparent life in the room. 

There’s some bleary talk coming from the couch as you walk to your bedroom, and if Jungkook is sleepily mumbling your name in question, you pretend you don’t hear. 

“So, where’s y/n? I thought she was going to help us pack.” 

It’s an innocent enough question, as Jungkook scans the corner of the living room hallway that leads to the bedrooms. You haven’t come out yet. He knows that you love sleeping in on the weekends, but he hopes the smell of fresh food will coax you to the table. His pan is sizzling in protest, telling Jungkook to quit talking and flip the hashbrowns. He's fried up three, in the hopes you’d be up for some crispy potatoes. He knows how much you love potatoes, especially at 2AM when you’re craving fries and a McFlurry combo. 

Instead Jisoo mutters, “You toasted too much bread, you know I don’t eat bread like this,” she’s pulling slice by slice out of the toaster, until there’s a stack of six golden toasts in the middle of the kitchen table. 

A little part of him wishes to quell the precursor to the argument there. It would be so easy for Jungkook to say, “the extras are for me” because he’s trying to gain weight, and that would be that. 

Instead he continues with his unanswered question and replies honestly, “I made extra toast for y/n, babe. She was supposed to help us pack but I haven’t seen her all weekend.” But he’s pretty sure you came home last night, unless that was his imagination. 

Jisoo pulls a carafé of apple juice out of the fridge, pouring the amber liquid into two glass cups. “Ah, she said she had some last minute things to do for work. Y’know, Big Hit always wants a big hit.” 

He chuckles, tilting his head as Jisoo gives him a small smile from the kitchen table. Jisoo is always good at cheesy jokes. “She must love her job, huh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Her articles are really good, too,” the air smells like butter and Italian seasoning, as he places one hash brown on Jisoo’s plate, and two on his. He knows you edit in the Arts & Media section, and loves how you make it a point to include video games and modern graphics when it’s deemed appropriate. “She did a piece on the evolution of RPG and I thought her commentary was really spot-on.” 

He brings breakfast over to the table, while Jisoo places two slices of toast on his plate, one buttered and one with strawberry preserves. Breakfast is a quiet, but peaceful affair. Jungkook takes note of how Jisoo takes extra long to complete her meal, her fork creating ribbons in her little blob of magenta jam. He allows himself to complete his first hashbrown and a slice of toast before asking the difficult question. 

“Are you and y/n okay?” and he also takes note when Jisoo’s ministrations on her jelly stop, as she looks up at him with her big brown eyes. 

“We’re fine,” she insists, “just normal roommate issues, I promise.” 

“Maybe I should text y/n,” Jungkook says, pulling out his phone. “Lemme help you fix this, wouldn’t want you and her in a bad place when you’re about to move out.” 

“Baby, why are you so concerned about y/n?” Jisoo croons while his thumb hovers over your contact, his screen showing a two-year old selfie you two took during a study session early on in your friendship. He can’t remember the last time you two took a picture together out of spite, one without Jisoo. Jisoo’s hand pulls him away from his phone, rubbing small circles between his palm. 

He wants to ask, why aren’t you? But he sees the terseness in Jisoo’s smile, as her eyes fix between the interlocked fingers. He has a feeling he’s hovering somewhere he isn’t allowed to be in. Maybe it really is roommate stuff and it’s none of his business, but he feels a little insulted being left out because you and Jungkook are just as much best friends as you were in college. 

Or are you? 

This question plagues him throughout the day, and when Jungkook packs enough boxes for the weekend and says he needs to go home, Jisoo for once doesn’t argue. Normally Jisoo would cling to him like a koala, murmur simultaneously adorable and dirty things in his ear and lead him to her bedroom to coop up for hours on end. But Jisoo says she’s tired and needs some alone time, which is also fine. 

He doesn’t feel like going home, and instead heads straight to the gym. A couple pumps wouldn’t hurt, and it would clear his head. It’s nearly five in the evening when his body is thrumming with the afterglow of his post-workout, and he decides to take a little cool down in the mall and treat himself to a smoothie. 

It must be kismet when he sees you coming out of the bookstore, looking a little winded but no less professional in your beige blazer set and rose gold iPad. Whenever he hung around your apartment with Jisoo and you’d come home from work, he’d make it a point to acknowledge your plethora of multicolored skirt-suits. He never needs to be professional in his place of work, and admires how much effort you put in. 

“Hey!” he jogs up to you, and he catches the way your shoulders jump at his voice. “We missed you today.”

Your smile curls into something dry, and you twist your spine like rusty hinges to face him. In turn, his smile dims a little, wondering if he’s doing something wrong. Maybe you’re tired? He catches the line of sweat that glistens your baby hairs, and how your hair is done up but has fallen a few centimeters with some pieces falling out. 

“Jungkook,” you exhale, “lifting boxes wasn’t enough of a workout?” 

“You know me,” he replies stiffly, hiking his backpack higher upon his shoulder. Why does this conversation feel so awkward? “So, finishing up work? Sucks you have to work on a Sunday.” 

“Ah, it wasn’t so bad,” you face relaxes a little as you explain your work, “it was children’s day at the bookstore and they were watching Disney movies. I’m writing a piece on how I believe Ratatouille is Pixar’s magnum opus. Interviewed some kids, I wanted an expert opinion.”  

“Ratatouille is the superior film,” he declares with a firm nod, “after all, anyone can cook.” He revels in the small smile he manages to retrieve from you, immediately understanding the inside joke. If he came out of the gym five minutes earlier, he probably would’ve been able to catch you in the bookstore. What a shame, he would’ve loved to see you play around with the kids. 

At the mention of food, the mall manages to silence itself enough for him to catch the grumbling coming from your stomach. He laughs when your cheeks heat. 

“I was on my way to get some smoothies,” he jabs a thumb in the direction of the food court, “wanna catch up and get a bite?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, I have a lot of work to edit,” disappointment pangs in his chest at your easy rejection, but he ignores it, “I kinda wanna save some money too, still not sure if I’m staying in the apartment after Jisoo moves.” 

He doesn’t know what compels him to take your shoulders and wheel you in the direction of the food court, much to your protest and whines. “C’mon, explain to me why Ratatouille is the magnum opus—I need to defend why The Incredibles is superior. I’ll treat you to dinner.” 

“What? I can pay for my own food—” 

“And I can’t treat my best friend to a nice meal once in a while?” 

That has you stopping in your tracks, and Jungkook nearly barrels his chest into your head if not for the grippy soles of his Adidas Ultraboosts. He can’t see your face, but his hands note how your muscles cord tightly between the cotton of your blazer. 

He doesn’t understand why you’re so tense. Was it because he called you his best friend? Well, you are? At one point he felt that way, early on in college. The position just stuck with you. And when Jisoo told him you weren’t interested, he was perfectly fine with the platonic relationship. It was nice to have someone to talk media and video games to, someone not as chaotic as Jimin and someone not as deterred as Yoongi. 

Although, maybe as of late he hasn’t been so much of a friend. It’s no one’s fault, he’s been caught up with work and Jisoo’s move, he hasn’t said so much as a “hey how are you” when you’re around. He can’t blame you. 

Suddenly his mind blanks, the mall fading away as he focuses on how small you look as your eyes dart between the parking lot and the food court. Jisoo and Jungkook have been so caught up on each other lately, that he fears you’re starting to separate yourself.

“Um, this place is good,” you tug him by the elbow and lead him to a fast food joint. 

When he picks up both your orders and comes over to your saved table, you’re talking animatedly on the phone. You’re laughing, looking at Jungkook as if he’s the one intruding and you’re muttering a hushed “sorry” as you continue the tail end of the conversation. 

“Yes, Joonie. Go with section two, I know my shit. I’m your Work Wife for a reason, Umji in PR could never compare,” you’re giggling like you’re five years younger, and Jungkook feels stuck in a timelapse. 

He watches you go, throwing around names and terms that he’s so lost on but so desperate to understand. He knows nothing about your life other than the one that’s tied with Jisoo, which is a damn shame. Since when did he inevitably downgrade you from “best friend” to “his girlfriend’s roommate?” 

“I’m sorry,” you turn your phone over and push it to the side, giving Jungkook a smile as well, albeit weaker, “let’s dig in!” 

To his relief the dinner goes as good as it should be. You have your tray practically overflowing at the seams, all on Jungkook’s dime. It has his heart swelling with pride, he hasn’t seen you eat in a long time. There’s fries spilling out from the corners, and two sandwiches because you couldn’t decide between a chicken sandwich and a burger. 

Food gets you amicable, and he doesn’t mind when he does most of the talking. You’re engrossed in his talk, lettuce hanging out of your mouth as you’re rapt with attention as he recalls a story that happened at work recently with Mingyu. You ask questions in all the right places and he sucks up all your attention like a happy pill, and it feels nice to be able to lead a conversation for once. 

“Jeez, I’m getting the burger sweats,” you giggle to yourself, and his smile brightens at your positive change in attitude. Food always helps. 

When you remove your thick high-collar blazer, that’s when he sees it. 

“Seeing someone?” he asks, eyes flickering curiously towards the violet bruises that bloom across your neck. 

“What–oh,” you have the audacity to look embarrassed, hands clutching your neck like a shield, “no, just a hookup.” 

A messy hookup, too. Unless you had a thing for showing off marks, which doesn’t seem to be the case. “Didn’t peg you for someone who hooks up,” he says more to himself than you, but you catch him on his impulse jab. 

Your eyes narrow and your defenses go up, “I’m trying to get over someone,” you snip back, busying your hands by crushing up your greasy sandwich wrappers. 

“Am I allowed to state my opinion?” 

“Since you asked so politely, no.” 

He sighs, “I just don’t think that’s the best way to get over someone,” heck, Jungkook doesn’t even know who exactly you’re trying to get over. He just knows that you’re far too smart and independent to let yourself resort to such matters. 

“It isn’t, but it’s really the best option as of now,” you reply curtly. 

And his gaze saddens as he sees you fold your blazer over your arm, indicating that your time is up. Jungkook is aware the comment he made is out of line, and it weakens him knowing that you don’t even want to pick a fight with him. He can’t even find it in himself to apologize properly. 

He doesn’t know if he’s more sad that you’re pining over someone unattainable or upset at himself for not knowing you’ve been harboring feelings for someone. If you really think hooking up is your only option, you must be really hung about whoever you’re into as of late. 

“If it’s worth anything,” Jungkook adds, wanting to leave on a high note, “fuck that guy. He clearly doesn’t deserve you.” 

A small, secret smile plays on your lips, “Yeah, I like to believe that.” 

“I’m anxious,” Namjoon’s mantra makes the whole energy in the room wobbly, paired with the fact the two of you are squished between cardboard boxes as Jungkook aimlessly moves things around like a Tetris screen. 

The only time you feel remotely comfortable basking in your home is when Jisoo is gone. Oh-so conveniently is the Big Hit building undergoing maintenance today, so you and Namjoon have decided to work from home in your apartment. Although you thought by now that Jisoo’s boxes would be long gone and tucked away in Jungkook’s place, instead you’re living in an episode of Ed, Edd and Eddy and the cardboard is practically wall-to-wall. You also thought by now that Jungkook would have no reason to show up unannounced anymore, but apparently that’s not the case. 

“I have, anxiety,” Namjoon adjusts his glasses for the nth time this afternoon, brain not fixed enough to focus on the screen of his chrome MacBook, “anxiety, anxiety. I can’t right now. I need my weighted blanket and a pillow.” 

“Namjoon, I can get both of those for you if we just send in this last spread,” you coo gently, as if placating a baby. You make brief eye contact with Jungkook from the other side of the room, his lips quirking in amusement as he stacks a box of clothes by the kitchen. 

“Do you feel my palms? My palms, they’re like a fucking fountain you need to feel them—” your Wusband approaches you like a zombie, leaning over you and tripping over his criss-crossed legs before he topples over you. 

“Blegh, get off of me you sweat giant!” you cry with a good-natured laugh, although the grip of Namjoon’s palms under your shoulders are damp and slimy, “Joon, I can’t get you your blanket if you’re crushing my boobs.” 

Namjoon finally relents, untacking himself to rest his chin on your glass coffee table. “Fine.” 

“Look over the last column and I’ll bring your blanket, okay?” 

Pushing yourself off the ground, you shuffle your way out of the living room through the maze of boxes and into the hallway. It feels like your apartment is less of an apartment and more of a storage space when you’re trapped in-between two lines of boxes, and Jungkook effectively blocking you from entering your room. He was just in the living room but now he’s come from the linen closet, standing between the entrance of your room. 

“Sorry,” he pops his head out from a smaller box, one filled with designer costume jewelry. 

“It’s fine,” you chirp, barely making eye contact as you shuffle over the boxes. 

Your toe drags over the lid of one of the open boxes in an attempt to move diagonally. You nearly crash your face into the hardwood if not for Jungkook’s arm stretching out to catch you. In seconds he manages to catch all your weight in one hand, pulling you to him with your hip pressed against his. Your breath traps itself in your neck. Your subconscious fears that if you speak now, you’ll babble about how attractive it is that he’s able to catch you as easily as grabbing a light sheet of paper. 

“Careful,” his voice rumbles in his throat as he regards you with a wan smile. 

Your “thanks” is barely uttered as you slip into your room, heaving your weighted blanket and a pillow in your arms to let Namjoon borrow. 

The burgundy quilted fabric is hunched over your shoulder, draped around your body so it’s easier for you to carry on your back. You try to eradicate the memory of Jungkook’s arms, lean and strong as he held you to him moments before.

Ugh, you thought messing around with Vernon would stop your silly pining. It seems that it’ll take more than a couple rounds to satiate your curiosity. For such a kind guy, Jungkook seems like a wolf in sheep’s clothing when it comes to the bedroom. 

You can imagine him being so kind in the beginning, coaxing you to wan and bend to his every wish and command. And then when you keen a little too hard at the attention, you bet a switch would flip and he’d grab you—

The blanket flops around your back, and you’re sorely reminded that you’re thirsting over a taken man, yet again.  

Jungkook makes it extremely difficult for him to be hateable. It’s by nature that he’s just so damn likeable. Heck, he’s pretty much packed seventy percent of the things Jisoo should be packing right now. 

Making sure not to trip again, on your feelings and your blanket, you successfully reach a tired Namjoon. You tuck your koala-shaped pillow under your co-editor’s arms, and drape the heavy blanket over him like a cape. He’s giving you a thumbs up and a toothless smile, the previous meltdown overcome as he focuses on finishing the last of today’s work. He’s slipped on some noise-cancelling earphones, presumably filled with generic coffee-house music or rain playlists. 

Wordlessly you go to your nook to prepare some tea. It’s getting late and a warm cup would distract you from the impending deadline. Despite the fact that you and Namjoon are 99% of the way done, his previous freak-out has you on live-wire and you could use a little caffeine. 

Placing three mugs on the counter you call, “Jungkook, tea?” 

“Yes please,” you stiffen when you feel Jungkook magically appear right behind you, his head peering over your shoulder, “with milk and honey.” 

Deciding to give Jungkook the beehive-shaped mug because it’s very on-brand for him, you begin to steep the leaves in your kettle while he spoons the honey. 

“So,” his words are slow as the drip of honey, the amber goo taking its time to descend into his mug as it falls from the dipper. “Is that the guy you’re trying to get over?” 

Jungkook lifts his brows towards Namjoon, who is softcore jamming to his white noise playlist. It’s cute as to how curious Jungkook is about Namjoon. While you try to keep your work life separate, there really isn’t much backstory to your personal life to warrant that kind of divide. 

“Namjoon,” you state aloud, watching Namjoon sing badly to himself, “why, are you gonna beat him up for me?” 

“I can take him,” you can practically hear Jungkook’s chest pop out. 

With a roll of your eyes, you reach to kill the heat off the tea kettle, “No need. He isn’t the guy I’m trying to get over.” 

“Oh, he’s your fuck buddy then?” 

“Shit!” being caught off guard, you grab at the handle of your kettle without a pot holder, burning your fingertips. In seconds Jungkook’s larger hand encases your own, pulling you over to the sink to soak your fingers in cool running water.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jungkook is chanting like a sinner at church, searching for any sign of pain in your visage, “I shouldn’t have asked while you’re working with a hot stove.” 

You suppress a sigh, relaxing your fingers as Jungkook soothes the burn with his gentle hold, “Shouldn’t have asked in the first place,” you mumble. 

“I know,” he replies, “guess I’m just feeling a little left out. We don’t talk like we used to. I guess I’m getting a little too nosy for my own good, aren’t I?” 

You don’t understand what’s going on with his incessant babbling as of late, but you chalk it up to work stress and Jisoo’s move. Having no answers to his honest reply, you gently untack your red palm from his grip, assuring him that you’re fine. 

Namjoon steps into your kitchenette, being surprisingly careful as he takes your potholder to pour himself a cup of tea. If the tea is oversteeped and bitter he doesn’t say anything, only leans against the counter as he regards you two with slow sips. “You alright?” 

“M’fine,” you reply stubbornly, avoiding Jungkook’s worried stare. 

Namjoon holds out his hand, “Hand.” 

“No—”

“Hand.” 

His deep voice coerces you, and you immediately slap the back of your palm onto Namjoon’s. Your partner brushes his golden hands over the tiny blister that’s forming over your fingertips. “Can’t have my Work Wife outta commission.” 

“Your Work Wife is fine,” you gripe back. 

Your co-worker’s eyes flicker over to Jungkook’s for a brief second, Jungkook regarding him in curiosity as he stares at your connected palms. “I have some aloe in my bag for sunburns,” Namjoon offers helpfully, ignoring the weird glances, “I’ll give it to you in a bit. Also, I’ve overcome my sudden bout of stress and I’m ready to email our progress to Victoria. We’re done for the day.” 

“Awesome, thanks Joonie,” you exhale, relaxing against the sink, “wanna go eat somewhere?” 

“There’s a niche place in Itaewon if you wanna check it out?” Namjoon offers.

Jungkook interjects, “Jisoo ordered pizza if you guys wanna share with us?” 

“Pizza also sounds good—” 

“We don’t wanna interrupt your alone time,” you gracefully cut in, stepping in front of Namjoon despite the fact that he’s easily towering over you. 

Jungkook snorts, “I’ll have enough alone time with her when she moves in, don’t worry. Besides, I ordered three pies because I wanted to try three different flavor combos. I need two additional judges.” 

“Thanks Jungkook but,” you stifle a cry when Namjoon jabs you in the back with his thumb. It’s pressing, digging into the small of your back as if he’s trying to telepathically tell you that you’re being rude, “but… I don’t know if I can eat three slices! Namjoon on the other hand, can probably eat enough to fairly judge.” 

“Great,” Jungkook’s smile is blinding, causing your grin to stiffen as he looks for his phone to shoot Jisoo a quick text that they’re having dinner for four. 

Once Jungkook’s out of earshot, Namjoon tugs you by the sleeve, “The hell was that?” he hisses in your ear, “you look like you’re about to shit and piss your pants at the same time.” 

“I just don’t feel comfortable eating with them,” you cross your arms in defiance. You think back to just a week ago where you and Jisoo reluctantly attempted to eat breakfast together one morning. You provided minimal small talk while Jisoo clinged to her phone, replying to you in non-committal clipped tones. 

“Do I want to know?”

“No.” 

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” you retort, “you got me into this mess, you’re gonna stay with me ‘till the end.”

“I don’t know what you want from me, woman,” Namjoon throws his arms out exasperatedly, oolong tea nearly sloshing onto his hand, “just suck it up or I revoke your bragging rights to that snag you got on our spread next Monday.” 

“Not my fault you couldn’t get Kim Taeyeon on the spread,” you smirk. 

“Well I didn’t so happen to stalk the Sephora she frequents for the past two weeks—” 

“I didn’t stalk her I just so happened to need a new Fenty Gloss Bomb every other day—”

“I’m home, Jungkookie!” 

Your face contorts, your playful energy melting to the hardwood as your previous banter with Namjoon evaporates into thin air. Work bags in one hand and three boxes of pizza balancing in the other, Jisoo kicks off her heels somewhere across the door and places the pizza on the dining table. 

Jungkook immediately appears by her side, and you look away and Jisoo plants a heavy kiss on his lips. She cracks open one eye as she notices you and Namjoon hanging by the kitchenette, “Oh,” she mumbles at her audience, “you’re here?” 

Yes, you bimbo. I’m here in my own apartment. 

“I guess you didn’t read my text that they’ll be joining us for dinner,” Jungkook cuts in good-naturedly, “we have way too much pizza anyway. Have a seat, guys.” 

Jungkook navigates the kitchen as easily as your own, and you slump in your chair while Namjoon exchanges pleasantries with Jisoo. She looks impeccable, hair in a tight chignon and a tight navy dress as she converses with your co-editor. 

“I’m starving,” Jungkook announces, making sure to place a slice on Jisoo’s plate. He shuffles through the other boxes, making brief eye contact with you when he decides to put a slice on yours as well, “you like these toppings, right?” 

You regard the greasy, hearty piece of cheese and bread with a curt nod. You feel Jisoo’s eyes laser on your skin, “Yeah, thanks Kook.” 

Namjoon, Jisoo and Jungkook mostly stir up the conversation, you opting to eat as slow as possible to avoid any conversation. It’s easy to blend back and let them take over, as Jisoo loves to talk about her fashion firm and Namjoon is a great listener. 

Jungkook and Namjoon make it a point to direct the conversation to you from time to time, and you let the ball leave your court as soon as it lands. You prefer to keep your responses short and simple, especially when Jisoo is so eager to talk about the new silk drapes she’s installing for Jungkook’s windows.

Your phone buzzes in your lap, and you discreetly look under the table to read the incoming text message. 

vernie bernie: would u like to do the devil’s dance tonight

vernie bernie: or a tickle to my pickle? 

vernie bernie: beatin ya bean? 

You: ohmyGOD 

vernie bernie: or y’know, u could just come ovr and chill. Hobi made some bomb tres leches

You: call. Ill come after dinner

“Are you okay, y/n?” your head bounces up to meet Jungkook’s gaze, “you’ve barely eaten and you haven’t talked much.” 

“Oh you know, she’s just stressed about the upcoming spread,” Namjoon steps in for you, and you send him a discrete, but grateful smile. He’s always impeccable at reading the room, “she’s just nervous about her interview with Kim Taeyeon, but I think you did her interview justice.” 

“No way, the singer Kim Taeyeon?” Jungkook gushes, regarding you with stars in his eyes, “your interviews are always so great, y/n. You ask really good questions. Like that one spread about  Lee Yonghwa’s art gallery? Really cool.” 

You notice the way Jisoo presses her lips together, a thin line as if she’s trying to seal away words that she’ll regret saying. She’s jealous, and you can’t help the blush of pride that fills your veins as you raise a secret brow at her. 

“Right, you got nothing to worry about,” Namjoon squeezes your shoulder encouragingly, as if you’d get his double-meaning. 

“Thanks,” you reply, pushing your plate away and standing up, “I’m actually gonna go head to Vernon’s for a bit, though. He wants to double check his work before we email Victoria.” 

It’s a bald-faced lie, Namjoon sent the files to Victoria right before dinner, but he isn’t going to argue. 

“Okay,” Namjoon thanks Jungkook and Jisoo for the meal, stacking his plate atop yours, “I’ll walk out with you.” 

“It’s only been twenty minutes, though,” you see the slight panic in Jungkook’s gaze as he watches you quickly clean up for you and Namjoon. You can’t quite pin why he’s so concerned, after all he has been acting strange as of late. 

“Yeah, I’m full,” you reply curtly, licking your lips and avoiding his gaze. You already know what he wants to say, that he’s been in your apartment all day and all he’s seen you eat is stale chips and tea, “but we can do this again.” But hopefully not. 

“If you’re coming home late again,” it’s the first time Jisoo has spoken to you directly. You tilt your head to her slowly, watching the plastic smile carefully carved onto her expression. You see the contrived care and concern between her brows, “please try to be quieter next time, the last time you came home late you woke Jungkookie up.” 

Snapping your gaze to Jungkook you plaster on a thick smile, “Sorry Jungkook—” 

“What? No, it’s fine!” he furrows his brows in confusion, finally able to detect the strange tension between the two housemates, “I barely heard you—” 

“Maybe I’ll just stay the night at Vernon’s,” your eyes trail over to the pajama set you immediately switched into when you got home today, “wouldn’t want to disturb you two.” 

“Good,” Jisoo’s tone is saccharine and clipped as she tacks on a, “have fun.” 

It’s laudable, how much Jisoo wants to make a fool out of you but you won’t have it. You revel in the perplexed expression as Jungkook’s gaze darts back and forth between the two of you, wanting to butt in but unsure of how to approach it. Not giving him the time to, you bid the couple a goodnight and make a fast getaway. Heck, you don’t even take your work stuff with you. 

Once you’re out the door, Namjoon wordlessly gives you a hug. You sigh gratefully into his embrace. 

The next time Jungkook sees you, he reads the room before anything. You and Jisoo’s apartment is scarily empty, almost clinical. He’s tried texting you a few times after his failed-not-failed attempt at catching up at the mall and his awkward conversation concerning Namjoon, but you always reply back with vague replies and an unpromised promise of meeting up sometime soon. 

It dulls him to think that you’ve given up on him as a friend. But can you blame him? He needs to keep an appropriate distance for Jisoo, after all, she doesn’t like it when he gets too close to other women unless it’s strictly professional. Usually Jisoo’s jealousy inevitably works itself out and Jungkook doesn’t pose any problems because he has very few girl friends, but for some reason your friendship with him specifically gets Jisoo stiff in the face. Is it because you and Jisoo are so close? Possibly. 

But it doesn’t mean you can’t join the same Valorant server with him at 2AM and accidentally bomb each other, or argue over the magnum opus of each film company. Is that not enough? 

Jisoo’s working overtime, and Jungkook suggested last night that he move the boxes to the front of the door for easy pick-up when the moving truck arrives. Jisoo promises to buy Thai food in return, and with a kiss emoji she leaves him to audit fabric budgets. 

As he glides down to Jisoo’s room he notes that the pictures along the wall have disappeared, and there’s double the amount of boxes in the hallway. It seems that you’re moving out too. To where, he doesn’t know but he hopes it isn’t too far. 

He chides Jisoo remotely when he sees that her room is completely intact, and he makes moves to pack up her things. 

That’s when he finds his letter. Not a love letter to Jisoo, but a love letter to you. Deep in the recesses of Jisoo’s junk drawer, is a faded lavender envelope with a pressed cream colored baby’s breath taped up in plastic. The glue is yellow and old, clearly served its purpose due to the fact that the letter is already opened and the contents rumpled. 

Hey Pretty Girl–

He immediately stuffs the letter back in its holder, stricken at his messy handwriting from two years ago. It feels like he found a time capsule, another version of Jungkook confessing to you. He used to call you Pretty Girl, not enough for you to catch on to his feelings, but enough for you to understand that he did find you attractive. It was early on in your friendship. 

When you first asked him to be study partners for some silly class that had nothing to do with each other’s majors, he gaped like a guppy and pointed to himself. That day he went to class in last night’s clothes and a nest of fluffy strands. “Me?” he felt like absolute trash, and you were probably desperate due to the fact you two were the only seniors in this class, “but you’re a pretty girl… and I’m pretty dumb when it comes to this subject.” 

But instead you scoffed and pulled him from his slumped figure, dragging him to the library, with a wink and a “you’re pretty, too.” Those words have burned in his brain since then, as he wasn’t used to getting such off-handed compliments, especially from intelligent girls that wanted more than one night. 

For whatever reason you continued seeing his dumb self, even after the semester ended and together registered for one more class for spring. 

Whenever you’d go out for ice cream you wouldn’t hesitate to stuff your face and add for extra Oreos and fries, you’d assure Jungkook you’re not normally this much of a slob. 

Jungkook would just smile and offer you a napkin and say, “You’re still a pretty girl.” 

He fell for you gracefully. There was no regret, no walk of shame, no cliché late night party where you or him could’ve instigated it into the physical. It was all by feel. 

However the two of you took your time with your relationship, languidly enjoying the hushed conversations in the library at 2AM, the late night McFlurry runs, the integration of each other’s friends like it was natural. Ergo the lavender love letter. It was a gentle declaration, one he felt pretty confident in. 

So color him stupid when you passed him in class with a happy wave, Jungkook dumbfounded at how well you handled his confession. You weren’t oblivious, you just never read it. 

But now he knows the declaration was for whatever reason, lost in transit. “I should’ve known,” he whispers in the air, the letter crumpling in his grip. Composing himself, he pinches his brows.  

There’s an electronic buzz and a sharp slam of the front door. Judging by the time, you’re home. 

You flop onto your mattress, folding an arm over your head to stop the sun from seeping to your eyes. Vernon’s exhausted you, and you barely got away before he could have any say in it. You need a little space, and some time to think. 

Just as you close the door to your bedroom, it swings open. 

You gape as Jungkook thrusts himself into your bedroom like a deer with horns, looking pale. You follow his gaze, darkened eyes that linger a little too long on your neck again, and you narrow your eyes at him to avert. He looks a little red in the cheeks despite his pallidness, looking like he just got out of bed with messy wavy locks and his signature sweats. Is Jungkook packing for Jisoo again? 

Acutely aware that you smell like sweat and sex, you clutch the blankets closer to your body. “Uh, rude.” 

He looks uncharastically frantic, waving a letter in his hand, “Did you ever read this?” 

“Read what?” you ask, hands reaching out for the envelope. 

“My confession letter,” he blurts, having no shame now that all the gears are running through his head. “I wrote you a letter asking you out, because you said you wanted to collect notes like in Letters to Juliet. But I just found it in Jisoo’s drawer, why would it be there?” 

And all the pent up frustration that never seemed to escape under Vernon’s sheets, the feelings that never seem to subside, all bubble back to the surface. Now that Jungkook knows, there’s no hiding. 

You’re in shock, hands reaching for the letter despite the burn that seeps through your fingertips. Jungkook’s shoulders slump when you do indeed look like it’s your first time seeing this, as if a missing puzzle piece in your timeline has finally been revealed.

“I, I didn’t think you’d write me a letter,” you take the lavender envelope, clutching the letter by your chest like it’s something precious, “that’s so sweet,” you say to yourself.  

It dawns on him, “Wait, you knew about this? I knew something weird was going on.” 

“Only recently,” you frown. 

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” he nearly shouts, causing you to flinch, “no wonder why you were being so weird all this time. How could you let me live the rest of my life knowing this? That my relationship is built on a lie? ” 

“I don’t know,” you suddenly feel very small in your mattress as Jungkook rounds up on you, pulling your desk chair closer to your bed, “because you love Jisoo, of course.” 

“Well obviously that’s not possible,” and while yes a two-year realtionship ending like this is going to hit him hard tonight, he’s focused on you and the fact that you failed to tell him, “somehow I’d find out. Why wait for me to find out on my own?” 

“Because I wanted to protect you!” 

“Protect me,” he scoffs, crossing his arms and sneering at you. It causes you to tense up, feeling the telltale signs of tears bubbling to the surface, “you don’t even want to be friends anymore, y/n. I’ve tried to catch up to you so many times, but you keep leaving me hanging. I know I’ve been a pretty bad friend and I get it if you just feel awkward that I liked you, then that’s a shitty reason.” 

“Have you ever considered that it’s too late to tell you?” you shoot back, sitting up straight, “yes, I admit I should’ve told you earlier and I’m sorry, but it was a lot for me to process to y’know? Jisoo and I haven’t talked properly in weeks!” 

“Oh, so you’ve stopped trying to be friends with Jisoo too, huh? Just like you’re trying to stop being friends with me.” 

“No,” you pinch your brows, “she stopped being friends with me! She doesn’t care about me because she has you,” conflict burns in Jungkook’s gaze, and you only serve to fuel the fire, “she’s tried so hard to not involve me in your relationship.” 

“Just tell me why you’ve really kept this secret instead of saying you want to protect me like a baby—” 

“It’s because I’m in love with you, idiot!” 

You blink and back up against the wall of your bedroom, as if you can’t believe that the words came out of your mouth. 

It’s quiet again. The sour look evaporates from Jungkook’s face as he watches you suppress your sobs on your mattress. The room seems devoid, sucked out of its color as you’ve cleaned up most of your things, the only thing left being some plain grey sheets and a pillow. 

Jungkook’s mind is absolutely reeling, playing back memories from a different point of view. 

“When Jisoo told me she sabotaged our relationship so she could date you, I was so upset and didn’t know what to think,” you manage to place the lavender note on your wooden desk, making sure no tears could mar it. “And I thought I could move on and eventually stay friends with the both of you, but the next day Jisoo put all her attention on you and completely ignored me or any attempt to salvage our friendship. She only told me to forgive herself,” you’re hugging yourself, wrapping the blankets around you like a weak embrace, “so I thought if I cut myself out of the picture and forced myself to move on like I should’ve, everything would’ve been okay.” 

“So, you would’ve rather kept all this pain to yourself?” 

“Yeah,” you give him a teary smile, “because I wanted you to be happy.” 

And with an equally sad smile he murmurs, “But I’m not happy.” 

 Your face falls, and you really look at Jungkook. He’s exhausted as well, slumped in his chair. Has he been trying to grapple along the threads of his relationships, while you’ve been trying to loosen them? 

“What a waste of two years,” he slumps in your chair, letting the pieces click into place, “a relationship built on fake love. I was really trying, y’know. I thought I was going crazy.” 

The three of you have unknowingly been playing a futile game of Cat’s Cradle, a game that no one wins. 

Jungkook looks wistfully out the window, noting the pleasant day that fails to present itself in your tiny room. It feels simultaneously satisfying and bitter when it falls into place, your thoughts finally fitting together for the first time in months. “We could’ve loved each other. For real,” he says, and you silently agree. 

You’re still crying, shaking like a leaf in autumn. Jungkook’s arms hover awkwardly over yours, his warmth palpable despite the fact that he hasn’t touched you yet. With a timid smile you allow consent, and you melt like putty in his arms. 

“Kookie, ‘m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you murmur into his shoulder, not caring if it hurts when you press your chin into his skin. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” 

It’s been so long to have him close like this, the friend you’ve always wanted but never needed. Since college you’ve always imagined a life without him doing just fine, but that doesn’t mean you want to live without him, roommate’s boyfriend or not. 

“I’m sorry too,” he sighs back, “this sucks right now, but we’ll be alright.” 

The two of you sit in your room until it turns dark and the sky muddles into shades of twilight and egg yolk orange. There’s lulls in the conversation, the two of you filling in the gaps and making sense of the mumbo-jumbo that’s been going on in your consciousness up until this point. Your insantities turn sane, and by the time Jisoo’s making her way back inside with the smell of pad thai, Jungkook is ready. With a squeeze to each other and a press of your lips because you don’t know what to say, you tuck yourself in and pretend to fall asleep. 

“Messy, messy, messy,” Vernon sing-songs, knocking his heels against the wall. 

The both of you are sitting upside-down, butts attached to the wall connecting to his mattress and your feet hanging in the air. Your mint floral organza socks pad against his Pink Floyd poster, while his yellow tube socks are heeling against some old Polaroids from college. There’s no prospect of sex today, not when shit just hit the fan. 

Today you and Vernon are just two old friends and very close co-workers. 

“Tell me about it,” you bemoan, frowning at the beige wall, “this whole week’s just been a whole mess. It’s like, warm tuna salad.”

“Gross,” Vernon grimaces at the apt comparison, “so what happens now?” 

You sit up on your elbows, looking down at Vernon’s peaceful expression, “What do you mean?” 

“Like, are you gonna get together with him?”

You snort, flopping back down on his bed. The blankets fluff around you and you inhale the pine scented sheets. “After all that? No.” 

“But you still love him?” 

It must sound dumb to still love him after all this time. You wouldn’t be surprised if Vernon thought you’re silly to still hold a place in your heart for someone who has fifteen million things on their plate now. After all the physicality and the space Vernon gave you in his home, your feelings haven’t wavered. 

Your companion doesn’t bother waiting for your answer, hearing your answer somewhere in the air as he gets up and throws on his denim jacket. Rolling over your stomach you ask, “Where are you going?” 

“Some friends down in printing want to meet up for drinks,” Vernon messes up his hair, making the waves part in that little coiff that makes his jawline look sharp. “I heard Yerin really wanted me to come, so.” 

You can’t help the little middle school coo that comes from your lips, causing Vernon to giggle and throw a pillow at you. “Yerin’s cute!” you declare, remembering the petite girl in overalls who’s all about pops of yellow and violet, “you're into her?” 

“Nah,” Vernon holds up two hats in his hands, gesturing for you to pick one. “Just figured it was a push in the right direction.” 

Crawling out of his bed you stumble in your oversized t-shirt, tucking a finger under your chin as you decide between the emerald bucket hat and the red Ralph Lauren baseball cap. You pull out both hats from his hands and set it down on his vanity, opting to smooth out the flyaways and ringing your fingers through his soft curls. “And what direction would my free-flowing friend be going today?” you ask aloud, “you look better with your hair out,” you declare firmly, “makes you look like a fluffy CEO.” 

He laughs at your silly comparison, and he gently moves your hand away from his hair when you linger a little too close to him. His gaze is solemn as he regards you with a gentle smile, “Keep your distance, I’m tryna get over someone,” he says simply, and your arm falls limp at your sides. 

Your heart thuds in a different direction, your mouth parting but no words coming to the surface. When was the last time you asked about Vernon’s needs, wondered if he was doing alright, making sure you two were on the same page—

“You’re spiraling,” he reads you like a playbook, smoothing down your hair to press a kiss to the crown. Suddenly you feel guilty for not having sparks in your belly, shaming your conscience for not even considering his sacrifices in your self-absorption these past few weeks. “Like I said, I wanted to help you. Stop looking like a kicked puppy, it’s okay to be selfish.” 

With transparent tears the two of you pack up and head to your next destination. Hands ghosting between each other you make your way to the exit of Vernon’s apartment, him to meet up with his friends while you have to unpack your new apartment. With a hug you tell each other you’ll see them on Monday, and as easy as that you go your separate ways.

Hey Pretty Girl—

I kinda wanted to tell you this in person but I know how much you liked Mamma Mia and all those other movies that have grand gestures in writing so I thought hey, might as well shoot my shot on paper. 

Not gonna tell you all the details, because you deserve to hear it in-person. But mayhaps this letter has something to do with how much I like studying with you, watching movies with you, doing absolutely nothing with you and all of that in-between. 

There’s a gift card to our spot attached. Meet me at McDonalds @12 tonight, so I know it’s real 😎

Hopefully yours, Jungkook

P.S. if you haven’t noticed already, I sprayed a little cologne and stole Taehyung’s fancy paper from Muji. That’s how serious I am about you. 

“Joon, we live in a bonsai garden. We’re like giants in a forest.” 

“Can you—can you stop spitting at them? Let them breathe, dammit.” 

“Not my fault they’re so tiny! I literally have to zoom 200% just to get a good look at ‘em.” 

The two of you are huddled in what used to be Namjoon’s balcony, now a sunroom for his succulents and bonsais. Your heart feels pink and swollen with affection as you regard Namjoon with interest, absorbing every bit of information you can as he teaches you how to care for his plants. After all, you’re co-parenting now. 

Having your Wusband co-sign as your roommate for the next year is probably the best decision you have made this year. Everyday is like a breath of fresh air. With Seokjin gone for the year to tour his restaurant franchises, his room is yours for the taking. The two of you are easy going roommates, filling the apartment with color and vigour whether it be in the form of baking sweets or watching Netflix documentaries. 

The only drama you ever have is when you two are having a meltdown over the same work-related issue, as if you two somehow share the same brain cell. It’s significantly less stressful, no need for unnecessary anger when  you have someone as mediating as Namjoon.

After today’s plant lesson, you two go back to the living room to finish up your work for the evening. Another perk of living together is that you can go home at normal work times and continue where you left off with the comfort of your couch and eating a whole pizza pie with no shame. 

Namjoon’s phone pings with a new email from corporate. “We got the new concept for next month’s spread,” he gestures to you with a grandiose wave of his arm, “drumroll please.” 

He pulls up the newsletter from corporate with a flick of his thumb. Your company put out every month’s concept out in an Evite, like every month was a themed party. A stressful, month long work party. In seconds, the page loaded and you’re met with next month’s title bathed in electronic glitter. 

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth

The two of you say silent, absorbing the concept like a cookie to milk. It’s a personal spread this month, a real treat for the team to show off their normal non-professional life. A spread that reveals the masters behind the ink and text. Last year’s personal spread was about the staff’s vacation destinations, but this year’s is much more intimate. You can imagine all the ideas that will be thrown around on Monday’s meeting: pinning down shared ideas like Throwback Thursdays, late night munchie runs, drunk stories, and all the crazy college nostalgia that you’ve been trying to avoid as of late. 

But now it’s presented to you in a gold chalice, and while you’re sick of the past you think it’s about time to face it. You’re excited to tackle the dark monster you’ve suppressed since Jungkook and Jisoo’s breakup. 

“Did I ever tell you I was president of my university’s Mock Trial?” 

“No, I always thought you’d be president of the Comparative Literature Club or whatever. But Mock Trial is equally as nerdy.” 

“I��ll have you know Mock Trial got me tons of action,” he winked, “made me very convincing.” 

“Gross,” you sneer, “so that’s what your spread will be about? How the co-editor of the Arts & Entertainment section managed to bag with his skills from Mock Trial?” 

“Nah, I went on a penniless journey with Jin during spring break. Six days around Malta.” 

“That does sound so you,” you sigh, fingers slipping between the cracked screen as you mull over the overly happy Evite, “sounds like a cool story.” 

“I know that look,” Namjoon quips, snatching his phone under his nose, “don’t overthink your spread just yet, it’s still the weekend. Now to more important things, what do you want from Taco Bell?”

And because you can’t refuse the combined efforts of nachos and Namjoon’s dimples, you relent for the night and tack the unmade idea to the next workday. 

Unfortunately the next workday is just as disheartening. Today’s work meeting is the antithesis of icing on the cake. While your college life isn’t anything remarkable, you didn’t think it was a painfully dull time. With every passing moment and every excited co-worker throwing memories back and forth like ping pong balls, the more you felt inferior by competing with their amazing memories. 

“Who can even afford Aruba at twenty-one,” you mutter under your breath, stalking back to your cubicle. 

Filling up a whole spread is daunting to you, the thought of Victoria popping her head in your cubicle to ask what you’ve got for the day is practically eating you from the inside out. Maybe your college life was in actuality, super boring? You have no crazy drug trips to tell, any vacations that gave you a life-changing perspective, or an epic love story. 

“What’cha got there, partner?” 

The third musketeer of your editing team’s caramel eyes peer into your cubicle, causing you to jump in your chair. Vernon wheels around, chair and all to push you into your already cramped space. His gold button up gleams in the sunlight, effectively blinding you. 

“If by something you mean nothing, then yeah I got nothing,” you frown, spinning around your chair. “What are you writing about?” 

A fond smile melts onto your friend’s face, and you can’t help returning a smile that mirrors his own. You two have fallen back into a good place, as far as you know. He’s still easy, simple, sweet Vernon. When you dropped some boxes off in coloring, you heard that Vernon and Yerin have recently started seeing each other. 

“Thought of the idea as soon as the Evite came out. It’s more of a photo spread, but I’m gonna write about my study abroad in NYU,” Vernon ticks a pencil on his forehead, “a self-identity piece talking about how I felt like, not-white around my family n’stuff. And then felt not-Asian at the same time, s’complicated but I think I can make it work.” 

“Deep,” you pat his shoulder caringly, knowing that Big Hit is a good outlet for these kinds of subjects, “alright City Slicker, since you’re so full of ideas then tell me what to write about.” 

Vernon sits up straight, regarding you with narrowed eyes, “Aren’t you gonna write about your little love triangle with Jisoo and Jungkook?” and it seems like he’s already storyboarded the idea in his head, gesturing to the air as if he’s writing down a timeline, “I can see the headline now: How to Steal a Heart,” he’s grinning, nodding fervently as you cross your arms in distaste. 

“Vern, are you suggesting that I exploit Jisoo and Jungkook’s personal lives?” while the journalism business didn’t pride itself on sincerity, it did feel wrong to drag in your personal life to that extent. 

“Babe, you don’t understand. You have the perfect slice of life story. Everyone’s writing about expensive vacations and that one time they got cross-faded and ended up in Busan,” he squeezes your hand, “but your story, it’s relatable. It’s romantic. It’s angsty. It has closure. No one’s gonna be able to relate to an impulse spending on daddy’s money to Aruba. But first loves? Unrequited romance and all that ish? Everyone can speak to that. And you’re a beautiful writer, they’ll eat up that story like honey.” 

“I don’t know, it still doesn’t feel right.” 

“Change up the names, twist the story,” he offers easily, knowing you’d put up a fight, “besides, it’s not like you’re planning on talking to Jisoo or Jungkook ever again,” you open your mouth to retort, but Vernon’s phone beeps to the Star Wars theme song and he’s flying out of his chair. “Shoot, gotta go help Joon upstairs. Just think about it, okay? Good luck!” and he’s kicking his chair out with a brown loafer, leaving you with breathing room in your cubicle. 

Five seconds later Vernon is jogging back, pointing a finger at you, “And if you do choose to write it, you have to add that Jisoo copped your McDonalds gift card. Like, who does that shit? Couldn’t she have just given it to you and say it was from her and not Jungkook? Seriously fucked up.” 

For the next ten or so minutes you mull. Out of all the memorable college events you’ve participated in, the largest one by far is your (now defunct and debatable) friendship with Jisoo, and your (un)requited love for Jungkook. Reluctantly, you must admit Vernon has a sharp idea, busting in like a hero and offering you the most writable piece on a silver platter. 

It doesn’t feel morally right just to start writing, because ultimately you can’t feel comfortable until you get the consent of Jungkook. While you don’t want to touch Jisoo with a ten-meter pole, you do want to start talking to Jungkook again now that the waters have calmed.

Your life has moved gracefully up until this point, and you’d like to start being friends with him again. Decision made, you pull out your phone and make an important call.

“Hey Yoongi,” you say nervously. Min Yoongi is Kim Namjoon’s equivalent, Jungkook’s Wusband and former upperclassmen in college. 

Said man hums noncommittally on the other line, “Whaddya want, it’s been awhile.” 

You stifle a giggle at his apathetic attitude, knowing he’s someone who wastes no time in getting straight to the point. “I just wanna make sure Jungkook’s address is still the same? I know it’s been a couple months, but I need to send him something and I wanna make sure it gets to him ASAP because—”

“Because last time something was sent, your crazy roommate intervened and Jungkook ended up in a two-year half-toxic relationship? Yeah, let’s make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“Yoongi,” you say slowly, “where are you?” 

“Working in the studio,” he tuts, “Jungkook says hi, by the way.” 

Typical, cat’s out of the bag. With a roll of our eyes you reply, “Thanks for outing me, Yoongi. Talk to you later.” 

“And y/n? Jungkook says he’s waiting.” 

With a stupid smile slapped onto your face, you hang up the phone and pull out your stationary kit from under your desk. You pluck out a vermillion red envelope, a color so bold and begging to be seen, you know it can’t possibly get lost in transit. Feeling a little bit like a high schooler as you pull out a glitter jelly pen, you get to writing. 

Hey Pretty Boy...

Jungkook and Jisoo are no longer together, evidently. 

Their social media runs in different directions, with Jisoo sporting absolute elegance in her work at her family-owned boutique. Her posts are full of shiny outfits and soulless gazes, betraying any pinch of emotion she may have felt over these past few months. Her profile is wiped of any personal posts, all traces of you and Jungkook evaporated from her page. You must admit that she looks good, like a real fashion mogul, but only at the surface level. 

Conversely, Jungkook is thriving. It’s evident. Normally he isn’t the type of guy to post so frequently, his habits being often sporadic and limited to sweaty gym stories. But whenever you scroll, it’s pictures of him smiling. Big bunny teeth broken into a genuine, full-bellied laugh. Cute selfies of him and his co-workers. You notice two familiar co-workers in those posts, Irene and Seulgi, two beautiful women Jisoo always felt intimidated by whenever she ranted to you. You conclude positively that Jungkook doesn’t feel tethered and can hang out with all the friends he wants, female and male alike. Jungkook looks free, and you’re happy for him. 

It’s another Instagram-worthy moment tonight at McDonalds, where you and Jungkook proposed to meet each other at 12AM. 

This time, the letter makes it to its desired destination. You make sure of that because this time you hand-deliver it, slipping under his apartment door knowing he lives alone and no one would be able to access it except him. 

You’re parked in an obscure corner, but you can see that Jungkook is currently having a great time with his co-workers for an after work meal. Yoongi is unbothered on his phone, while Jimin and Seulgi are taking turns throwing fries into each other’s mouth. Jungkook is squished between them, scrunching his nose cutely as he tries not to get in the fray of their fry-war. 

Your phone pings, and you laugh at what pops up on the screen.

Yoongi: come inside, u loser. 

You: can’t ur friend group makes me nervous stop being so dang cute

You: dw i’ll wait, it’s only 11:50

Instead of replying, Yoongi puts his phone down and resumes eating. In turn you pick a playlist, deciding that “summer time high mix✨✨✨” is a theme you need to subscribe to for the rest of the weekend. 

Busying yourself by sending some texts to Namjoon and checking some emails, you relax in your seat as you let your brain turn to sludge for the weekend. You’re tired, eyes glazing over as you watch Yoongi elbow Jungkook harshly, forcing him to look out the foggy window. 

Jungkook’s eyes light up like it’s Christmas Eve, but instead of Christmas lights it's your car’s lowlights. The graphic designer  pays no mind to his friends as they wish him goodbye and goodluck, throwing on his jacket with a wave. 

The night air whizzes by, Jungkook’s floppy black strands bouncing with each step as he bounds to your car. He throws your door open, bringing in the cold air as he regards you as easily as an old friend would. 

“Hi,” he chirps, placing his tattooed palms by the air vent, “c’mon, let’s order.” 

“You know, you could’ve ordered inside and brought it in here.” 

“Yeah but then it would take longer to get to you,” the cheeky grin that Jungkook throws at you is unmistakable, “c’mon, get out the car and let’s switch.” 

“Huh?” 

“You look tired, you didn’t come back from the office again, did you?” 

“I did tonight,” you say, “I just really wanted to get the soft copy of the article done and—” 

“Out, out!” Jungkook clicks your seatbelt off and he’s coming out of the passenger side, opening your car and pulling you out by the hand, “c’mon, I’ll drive.” 

You shake your head, hiding your smile in your hand as you let Jungkook do what he wants. Normally you’d be insulted that anyone suggests they should drive your car but Jungkook would always drive you around, saying he loved long rides. Above all, if you could trust anyone to drive your car, Jungkook is at the top of the list. 

Buckling in, you bite the inside of your cheek as Jungkook easily pulls out of the parking spot one-handed. His jacket is pulled up to his elbows, exposing his veins as he expertly whirls the wheel in the direction of the drive-thru. Since college he’s always looked very attractive driving.  

Doesn’t mean you have to act like you’re still in college. You tamp those feelings down, knowing that your article probably has you feeling stuck in time. 

“—coming along?” 

“Wha?” 

“I said, how’s the spread coming along?” 

“It’s pretty much done, I think. I’ll send you the hard copy when it’s ready,” you tap your fingers against the dashboard, “but are you sure you’re okay with me writing it? I know I’m using a pseudonym and everything for you two but I still feel weird—” 

“It’s fine, I think it’s a good thing,” and you still squirm in your seat when he flashes you a genuine smile, “I mean, it kinda is a funny story and I think it’s good for both of us. Like closure, y’know? Moving on and—hi, can I get two Oreo McFlurrys and a large fry? Thanks!” he pulls out his wallet to scan the total on the e-reader.  “I mean, didn’t it feel good writing it?”

“Yeah,” you replied honestly, relaxing in your seat, “like, college was fun and all, but when Jisoo kinda ruined all that… after awhile I didn’t think it was ruined after all, y’know? I still made amazing friends and ended up where I wanted to be. I want to show the readers that shit happens, and that’s okay. And if things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.” 

The summer playlist hums in the background as Jungkook pulls up to the pick-up window. He thanks the worker and hands you the tray, and you make quick work to put the fries in the first cup holder for optimal sharing. He doesn’t park at McDonalds, but instead smoothly pulls out of the restaurant into the direction of his apartment. It isn’t a particularly long drive, but you figure it would be easier for Jungkook to go home first if you’re already parked at his complex. 

“What do you mean by that?” Jungkook parks in the driveway of his apartment, taking his McFlurry from your hands. 

“Mean by what?” 

“If things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.” 

“Well, we’re here now, right?” 

Jungkook pops his spoon in, swallowing vanilla and a silly smile through his coral pink lips, “We’re here now,” he repeats. 

The night air is cool and your conversation is warm. You promise Jungkook that you’ll send him the final copy of your spread as soon as it’s done, and you two eagerly deviate away from the past and focus on the present. 

You can’t help the eagerness that flows between you, as if you’ve never spent time apart like this and it’s only now that you’re reuniting. It must be absence that makes the heart grow fonder, because you swell with affection and you find Jungkook’s presence sweeter than any kind of ice cream. 

Are you dating now? Maybe. You and Jungkook are going on dates, everything without the title. McFlurry runs, marathons of HGTV’s Design on a Dime, having lunch at each other’s respective buildings with the Wusbands. Whether these dates are exclusive or not is unknown, but you figure the question will present yourself one way or another. 

You’re in a good place right now, potential relationship or not. After all, your priorities are simultaneously positive and in order: family, work, friends, and any potential romantic trysts are at the very bottom. You could kiss the cover of this month’s issue (and trust, you have kissed your own copy multiple times) if it is not for the fact that this specific issue is for Jungkook. 

So, romantic trysts and friends have a tendency to flip-flop on your priority list, but only because it’s Jungkook. 

Unsurprisingly, there’s no guilt knowing that you’re dating your former best friend's ex-boyfriend. 

After a much deserved early work day, Namjoon and the crew arrange a hearty happy-hour filled with good food and enough relaxation to last the weekend. With your combined successes, your team felt like they made the best issue yet. At the heart of it, The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth became a reckoning of each other’s young life. Despite the love and the growth that occurred from your college years up until this point, you’re glad to close that chapter and move forward. 

You did not tell Jungkook when the issue would come out, so you think it’ll be a fun surprise for him when he sees it magically show up at his apartment. Bending down you move to slip the issue under his door, one hand pushing it under while one hand braces against the frame to steady your balance. 

Just as the shiny cover glides under the door it swings open, and you fall flat on Jungkook’s feet. 

Being the little shit he is, he simply giggles at the blunder, looking at you with excited eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he says. 

“Creepy as hell, Jeon,” you mutter under your breath, brushing the dirt off your aqua pencil skirt. Looking at him from your spot on the floor and his large height, you grimace. “You look like a middle-aged serial killer looking outside your peephole.” 

“Now, we know that’s not true.” he finally offers his hand, easily pulling you up to your feet. You follow him into his kitchen, where he’s cutting up fresh fruit. He throws your issue on the counter, gentle enough so it doesn’t slide off the granite. He gestures to himself with both hands, “me, a dashingly handsome late twenty-something in Nike sweats who can bench-press two of you? Totally not a middle-aged serial killer.” 

“It’s in the eyes,” you chastise, “you look crazy.” 

“Maybe I’m just crazy excited to see you,” he says with a cheeky grin. 

You try your best not to choke on your spit at the cheeseball comment, throwing a blackberry in your mouth. Savoring the burst of tart flavor that fills your mouth, you wait for Jungkook to plate the fruit before meeting him on the couch. He’s holding a prettily arranged plate of berries, bananas, and mango with a huge dollop of whipped cream in the middle. In his other hand is Big Hit’s magazine. 

Throwing your blazer on the couch’s arm you don’t hesitate to cuddle up next to him, eagerly waiting for him to read your spread. 

The cover gazes back at the two of you like a reflection. The entirety of the staff is posed on the cover, made to look like a class photo. Some of you are holding balloons in your respective school colors, many of you grouping up with whoever happened to go to college together. You and Vernon are wearing matching university sweaters with silly grins on your faces. In the middle of the issue is the editor-in-chief, Victoria Song holding a placard that reads: Class of Youth. 

Jungkook spares you a glance from the corner of his eye, your head naturally tucked into his shoulder. With an exaggerated sigh, he fiddles through the glossy pages, “Hmm, which one should I read first?” 

“Of course you’ll read mine first,” you pout. 

“Ah, Namjoon’s looks really fun. Or Vernon’s? New York looks pretty cool,” he flips to a random page, “wait, Yerin’s spread is a Korean cookbook! I definitely want to make some tuna rice...”  

“Jungkook,” you whine, “read mine.” 

“I don’t know,” he taps his finger on his lip, “I mean, I pretty much know your spread because I’m already in it. It would be kind of redundant to read it.” 

“Kook, you’re being mean,” you glower, rubbing your cheek against his soft sweater. He’s just so damn comfy. 

“I’m kidding,” he tugs at your cheek, “where’s the table of contents, first page?”

“I’m on page eighty-three.” 

You speed up the process like an impatient child, leaning over to brush the pages to the desired spread. You even dog-earred it, a habit that drives Jungkook crazy as he immediately fiddles to iron out the crease. 

“Are you gonna read it to me too, mom?” he teases. 

“Okay fine! I’ll be quiet, but don’t take too long.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Eyes fluttering, you let Jungkook take his time to absorb your piece. A roommate by any other (rude) name: the lost letter. A cheesy, gimmicky title that Victoria insisted upon that you had no choice but relent to. The rest of the spread thankfully has a very authentic edge to it, your story laced with photos of you and Jungkook, your internship with Vernon, and most importantly, a scan of the lavender letter that got left in the past. 

Jungkook’s not silent through his read-through, either. He laughs at all the right parts, fueling your ego as his smile grows at your favorite lines. While he doesn’t directly engage in conversation, his positive energy is enough for you to make you feel like you’ve done your job right. It’s one thing to write about unknown celebrities and unnamed artists, but for people like Jungkook, the validation is personal. 

“It’s beautiful,” Jungkook says when he’s read it thrice through, running his thumb over a picture of you. “Really organic. Really, real.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he chuckles, having run out of adverbs. “It’s funny, too. I liked your little internal monologue. I wish I knew how you felt back then.” 

“I wish you did, too.” 

You’re quietly munching on a strawberry, looking over a polaroid Jungkook took. It was  sometime in the beginning of senior year, where you’ve fallen asleep on his mattress, drool drying on your mouth. Normally you’d be opposed to having such unflattering, grainy pictures amongst your writing, but it encapsulates the youth you’ve tried so hard to chase away. 

“How do you feel?” Jungkook says, switching out the magazine for the plate of fruit, placing it on his side. 

“Feel great, actually,” you muse, smiling to yourself. By no means are you a hero writing some grand gesture in an entertainment magazine, but you feel like you’ve saved yourself. You’ve savored your youth in four thousand words, cutting out the poison and keeping the moment as sweet as it can be. 

“I’m proud of you,” he reaches to ruffle your hair, and you don’t even get mad when it tousles out of your pinned style. 

Reveling in the attention, you simply close your eyes and feed yourself a handful of blueberries. 

“Love that I make money, but I definitely miss college from time to time,” Jungkook stretches, jostling you out of your comfortable position. “Like I remember Taehyung and I would take turns bringing backpacks to the dining hall so we could stuff fruit in it for later.”

“Yeah, but as much as I loved college I wouldn’t go back,” you nod to yourself, “I’m happy where I am now.” 

“What about when we stayed up for midnight breakfast? The dining hall was filled to the brim with food. Remember when I tried to eat a whole stack of pancakes?” 

“Jungkook…” 

“Or when our classes got cancelled and we went to Lotte World? You ate way too much funnel cake and I had to carry you to the car!” 

“Jungkook—” 

“And that one time we snuck out to the music hall’s rooftop?” words gush out of Jungkook’s mouth like a waterfall, unable to relent, “that’s when I realized I liked you. I liked you so much, I tried to tell you that night but choked—”

“Jungkook!” and he immediately zips up, frowning. You straighten up, on your knees as you reach over to run your hands through his onyx tresses, moving the styled strands to the back of his pierced ears, “Jungkook,” you repeat softly, “I’ve heard all these stories, I was there for most of them. As much as I love the past… can we talk about something else?” you give him a small, tentative smile to show him you’re not mad, but a little uncomfortable at his reminiscing. 

He leans into your touch, pressing your palm against the soft swell of his warm cheek. “Okay,” he agrees, resting one hand on your thigh. 

You’re roped in his gaze, and you have to force yourself to breathe when Jungkook moves closer to you. He hooks a leg behind his back, and another across his lap. A cool breeze kisses your inner thighs when your skirt exposes your cotton underwear. You should be embarrassed but instead you’re fixated, unable to understand what he’s trying to accomplish. 

“Then I’m gonna talk about the future,” Jungkook traps you between the couch, his thumb running hot circles to where your skirt has hiked up. It exposes a slip of the thigh that Jungkook has seen a million times. He’s seen you walking around your apartment in a large shirt, ridden up to your boyshorts. It’s different now, you feel exposed and tingly, thrumming with excitement. “I like you, obviously anticipated news and old news. I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to go on dates with you, re-watch Avatar, grumble when I force you to come to the gym with me,” he bumps noses with you when you scrunch yours, “I wanna be with you. Heck, I’ve even cleared space in my spare room so you’d have closet space for all your fancy designer suits if you ever need it.”

“You cleared space?” you manage to choke out. Visions of a shared apartment roll through your brain. Cooking meals together, having two toothbrushes side by side, and waking up to his face. 

“Of course I did. Do you know how financially attractive you are?” he says lightheartedly, “you’re a sexy working woman and it’s crazy to imagine you’d want to settle for me and my little apartment. But I have to try now because if I don’t, it’ll be too late.” 

“That’s not true,” you retort, “you’re not someone I’d settle for. I want you, and no one else.” 

He chuckles, running a thumb over your cheek. “Then what are we waiting for? Your key’s hiding under the mat.” 

“Jungkook…” on the tip of your tongue lays the words you’re going too fast but it doesn’t make its way to the air. 

“But do you really think it’s too fast?” he reads your face clearly, “these feelings never went anywhere. They were locked away, sure. And I loved her,” he can’t even say the name, not when you’re warm and flush against him, “but I loved our friendship more.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you breathe, letting the cogs in your brain roll until sparks develop. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he concedes, “I just wanted to let you know. Could’ve done the letter thing all over again and let the past repeat itself. I know Namjoon wouldn’t hide a love letter for two years, but if I left another damn letter he’d definitely make a copy and tease me about it.” 

You snort, pressing your forehead to his. You’re practically buried in the couch now, tingly and vibrating with happiness. “And I’m not going to leave you hanging. I do want to say something,” and he looks at you expectantly, licking the leftover berry juice on his lips, nearly making you miss your train of thought, “I like you too,” you say, the other L-word is also applicable, but you feel like that phrase is reserved for another time, “I want to show you off on work vacations, bring you along as my date and show them you’re my muse,” you confess, “I wanna play video games with you ‘till 2AM, and eat ice cream in the comfort of our apartment instead of our cars because we’re too stubborn to admit we don’t wanna go home without each other.” 

Jungkook absolutely preens at the affection, sending you a heart melting smile that has your stomach doing backflips.

“Jungkook, I want to fall in love with you again.” 

Your squeal of surprise is swallowed by Jungkook’s lips, tasting of mangoes and berries as strong hands cup your backside, easily lifting you onto his lap. You plop under his strong thighs, feeling them flex against yours. The both of you are pouring in this kiss, raining with promises and hopes for a future with each other. His taste is concentrated, and you can feel the devotion practically injected in his embrace. 

When he pulls away his lips are cherry-red and shiny, looking up at you through clear coffee eyes. “This isn’t a dream, right?” he looks at you up and down, unable to decipher fact from fiction, “because I distinctly remember two wet dreams that involve you looking like this.” 

Looking down, you heat at the disarray you’re in. Hair wild and parted in different wavelengths, tired of the day’s efforts. Your slightly sheer dress-shirt is rumpled, the lace collar opened with two popped buttons revealing your cleavage, and your skirt is stretched so tight that it’s ruched all the way up your thighs. Sprawled across Jungkook’s lap, you’re dangerously close to something long and hard. 

Emboldened, you clutch at Jungkook’s collar, pulling him closer. 

“Show me what happens in your dream,” you whisper into his ear, barely brushing your clothed core against his crotch, “maybe we can make it come true tonight.” 

You can’t see his face, but you feel something dark and sensual overtake him. The grip on your ass tightens, a delicious pain that has you pressing your breasts against him and nipping on his ear, your tongue darting sensually through the cold silver hoops that dart through his skin. 

Within seconds, he rips you away from his neck and demands, “Open.” 

Dazed, you barely get a centimeter of your mouth open when Jungkook presses something cold and sugary against your lips. Whipped cream. You manage to take a small bite of the tart strawberry that he holds by the viridian stem, rolling the flavor between your mouth as Jungkook paints the leftover whipped cream over your lips. Once he’s satisfied he then creates a white trail that leads to your cleavage. 

Better than any dream, his eyes drink you in like the last glass of water in a desert. Your lips are swollen and parted like a baby kitten, covered in the creamy confection. “So pretty,” he exhales, his hot tongue licking from your cleavage to your lips, swallowing the flavor of you and strawberry juice, “such a pretty girl you are, and all mine.” 

“Yours,” you submit easily, rolling your hips against his. 

At that moment you think you’re meant to fall in love this way. You can’t imagine the shy, fumbly Jungkook and your equally confused self waltzing around a relationship when you barely had your lives together. The two of you still had growing to do. The wait is certainly worth it, because as you feel his arms tighten around you, you’re sure this love will stay strong.

It’s difficult for you to find a rhythm at first, what with Jungkook’s strength and need to be satiated, both of you are sloppy but the friction is nothing less than delicious. Your finger reaches over to swipe at the leftover cream on the plate, and you press your finger to Jungkook’s mouth, and he immediately complies. A dollop of sweet cream leaks out of his lips and your panties dampen further when you feel his tongue lick you clean, imagaining how good it would feel if it was your pussy he was licking. 

Your mouth waters at the feeling of his dick lining up against your core, as sticky as the strawberry juice that clings to your bodies. 

“C-can I make a confession? I—oh, Jungkook…” your mind is all fuzzed up when he snaps his hips against yours, causing you to shamelessly bounce on his length. 

“Yeah?” 

“I… I like it when you use all your strength like that,” his hips slow as your words sink in, but you don’t mind as it gives you time to make a long drag along the entirety of his member. “Everytime you pull me up when I trip, or you come back from a workout, I like it when you carry me around like I weigh nothing.” 

“Do—do you think about it a lot?” he grunts, and you stifle a moan when he does a slow, hard drag against your wet folds. “Tell the truth.” 

“It’s, it’s embarrassing,” you whimper, unable to think straight with the amount of stimuli you’re receiving.  

“Please, baby.” 

“Yes mm—oh! I do,” you try to get the words out as quickly as you can. He stops moving, and you groan in frustration so you just lay it all out on the table. “I, I love it when you hold me in your strong arms. And, ah, uh w-henever you come back from the gym you just look so sexy fresh from the shower. Sometimes I think about how you’re too damn nice for your own good but I bet you’d be so rough in bed.” 

“Really?” and then he’s shoving you onto the couch, air brushing against your bare thighs as your back hits the beige throw pillows. He’s hovering, dark eyes starting from the tip of your toes to your damp lips. “You like it when I manhandle you? Throw you around like a little doll?” 

“All that strength, and for what?” you try to keep your snappy remarks in check, but it’s hard when he’s pressing his straining dick against your thigh, weeping and needy. 

“You’re not gonna be joking about my strength anytime soon, baby,” emblazoned, he easily throws your leg over his shoulder, pushing your panties to the side to let your wetness leak out and onto his fingers, “are you gonna complain or be a good girl?” 

“Yes, I’m ah—” you wince when he inserts a finger, “I’ll be good for you,” 

“My good girl,” he revels in the way you melt under his touch, your previous sarcasm quickly dissolving into a puddle. You always had an inkling that Jungkook would be a sneaky fox in bed, all that muscle hidden behind a kind smile and a penchant for tea with milk and honey. 

Jungkook slips in another finger, stretching you and preparing you for what’s to come. He’s scissoring you at a sensible pace that has you squirming and wanting more. To prevent you from shimmying off the couch he holds you down with his free hand, and you love the way he practically feeds you to the couch, hands dancing over your neck as he shoves you further into the furniture. 

“You look so gorgeous,” he says, causing you to moan and keen at his attention, “you’re such a strong, gorgeous woman. Having you sprawled out like this, ready to do whatever I want to you is so fucking hot.” 

“I’m—I’m only weak for you Jungkook,” you say honestly, tears pricking when he dips another finger. The stretch burns deliciously, and your folds eagerly swallow him up until you’re filled to the brim. Your fingers or toys cannot compare to flesh, and you sigh in relief when you see his inked fingers pick up the pace once more. 

“You’re damn right,” Jungkook husks, and with a grain of love he murmurs in your ear, “I’m only weak for you, too.” 

And that’s when he snaps, thumb rolling against your bud as he slams his other fingers against you, going at a brutal pace. You cry out, not caring whether his neighbors hear as he pulls you back and forth through pleasure and pain. 

“T-too much, Kookie,” you mewl, your hand warbling to find his, “I, ah, ‘m gonna cum!” 

“That’s the plan,” he only goes faster, stretching your band further and further before your desired high is reached. His hand trails up to force your chin straight, looking up at him, “let go for me, baby. Wanna feel your pussy clench around my fingers.” 

In seconds, you gush. It has you in a slight panic, drunk on endorphins as you try to lift your head up but Jungkook’s hand is firmly pressing you on your shoulder as he fingers you efficiently through your high, the wet squelching sounds only increasing with your cries. His lap is drenched in your arousal, along with his chin and lips glistening with your essence. 

He finally releases you when you’re practically shaking, his hands sticky and creamy. You moan when he shamelessly licks them within your view, making sure to wrap his tongue around his ink-stained digits. 

“I,” your mouth is dry when you feel the dampness that hits your bottom, “I’ve never, I don’t remember ever—” 

Your babbles are lost between your throat and Jungkook’s tongue, shoved deep into your mouth. Tasting your arousal has you practically vibrating in your place, as you two rut against each other like hungry bunnies. 

“God, you’re amazing,” he says between pecks, kissing away your face of any tears you may have pricked, “Amazing, adorable, absolutely beautifulIadoreyousoso—” 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you press your hips up, wiggling for more attention, “please fuck me, Jungkook.” 

You can’t help the witchy, satisfied smile when Jungkook’s eyes darken to a thick coal, “Anything for you,” he murmurs, swinging your legs between his arms as he lifts you like a feather. 

On his lap again, you soon accept that the way you two mesh like puzzle pieces is one of your favorite positions as it gives you both equal space to ravish each other. 

Just when your hand trails to the waistband of his boxer briefs and you’re rolling your thumb over its collected moisture, the moment is shattered when the doorbell rings. You jump in his arms, unprepared for your moment to be interrupted. 

He groans into the crown of your hair, and you soften in his relaxed hold, “I ordered us pizza,” he nearly forgot. 

Perking your head up to look at him you regard him innocently, as if you didn’t release a waterfall on his sweats two seconds ago. “You got us pizza?” 

“I knew you’d be coming over tonight,” he’s pouting into your neck, regretting ever having called the pizza guy if he knew this would happen, “Victoria posted the publish date on Twitter. I just didn’t think,” he gestures vaguely to the mess on his pants, “this would happen.”  

“Damn, and here I thought I was being sneaky,” you chuckle, flicking his ear playfully. 

He gives you an uncharacteristically subby whine, shamelessly upset he has to let you go so fast after he’s given you your first of many highs. Before he weakens further under your beauty, he unceremoniously shoves you off. “Sorry, pretty girl,” you melt at the easy way his pet name rolls off his lips, “can you wait in my room for a bit so I can pay the delivery guy? I don’t want them to see you like this.” 

“But I want to eat pizza,” you declare stubbornly, standing up to button your blouse and pull down your skirt. 

Before you could fasten one button or pull down one centimeter, his hand darts out to snatch your wrist away from your body. It doesn’t hurt much, but it causes your body to heat in more places than one. He’s sexy like this, demanding your attention. “No,” he rumbles definitively, “my room. Now.” 

“Why?” you throw your hands in the air, yelping when he slaps your ass. He makes sure to make it sting, cupping you fully. 

“Because,” he says firmly, “you don’t get to eat until I eat,” you whimper when his hand reaches to cup your sex, panties wet and cold without his warmth as he pushes you in the direction of his bedroom. 

Oh, you can’t wait for both of you to eat tonight. 

some time later.

“Ohmygod the view is beautiful!” Krystal, who works in advertisement, squeals. “No filter needed!” 

“Alright alright, make room Princess,” Namjoon teases. With a bump to Krystal’s tiny hips Namjoon shoves you two across the pavilion, putting his arm around you once he finds the perfect angle, “Umji, can you get a pic of me and my Work Wife? I want this on the Big Hit Instagram!” 

You hold your straw sunhat down from the salty wind, smiling beautifully as Umji takes multiple pictures of you and Namjoon from her Nikon. Another successful year under your notch, ending with a successful work retreat. 

“Namjoon, can I take a picture with my actual wife now?” 

“We’re not married, Jungkook,” you chastise, patting the chest of Namjoon’s floral printed Hawaiian shirt so he can switch. Instantly, Jungkook slides up next to you like a picture perfect stock model piece, and you wrap your arms around his trim waist, “we’re not even engaged.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he pouts, looking over the pavilion and adjusting the both of you so there’s a good amount of you and the resort in the background. The sun may be scathingly hot, but it looks beautiful perched over the crystal clear waters. “Namjoon, you got it easy,” Jungkook says when he hands him your phone, “every angle is our good angle, so you can’t mess it up.” 

Being the honest man he is, Namjoon knows better and doesn’t say anything to that. Instead he shoots down whatever pineapple-flavored concoction is offered to him on a silver platter, and starts shooting. 

“Is this swimsuit new?” Jungkook murmurs into your ear between shots, flicking your little red number by the strap connecting the back, “because I didn’t see this in the luggage.” 

You smile big, pearly whites as Namjoon demands to pop out your butt and work it, pressing your body closer to Jungkook’s. “Tiny enough so I could hide it in my purse,” you reply proudly, voice low for only each other’s ears, “why, surprised?” 

“Definitely not prepared,” his fingers dig deliciously in your bare flesh, “would Victoria fire you if she catches us doing it in the cabana?” 

Amused that your boyfriend now shares your combined awe and fear of your boss, you twist his nipple lightly. He yelps, and from Namjoon’s guaff he’s definitely got that on camera. “We didn’t come to Boracay to fuck in the cabana.” 

“Then the hotel room?” 

Namjoon hands you back your phone when he considers his job done, letting you and Jungkook have some alone time. You wave your phone in his face, trying to get him to focus on the task at hand. You wanted to post some cute pictures of you and your boyfriend, one to impress the family back home and the Big Hit interns back in Seoul who are absolutely pining for your position. 

“Jungkook, they have the water ski thing where you can flip in the water mid air! Doesn’t that sound fun? Or we can go scuba diving, have Filipino food, or get massages. LIterally, we’re on Big Hit’s dime, and the first thing you want to do is go back to the room?” 

“Yes,” he pouts petulantly, leaning into the hollow of your ear and whispering, “got a chub on.” 

Discreetly so, your hands brush against his navy trunks and you note yes, he’s half hard. “No!” you shake your head definitively, pushing him out of your arms. You’re not letting sex get in the way of your hard-earned vacation, you’re on company dime and you intend to milk every peso of it. “Namjoon, take him away!” 

You blow him a kiss and follow another group who’s decided to go eat, watching your boyfriend get dragged away by Namjoon’s long arms. Krystal, who’s been mildly watching the whole ordeal in-between taking selfies, looks at you in awe, “You got it good, bosslady,” she says, and you happily link arms with her in the direction of the restaurants. 

You and Jungkook definitely have it good. You don’t see him until dinnertime, looking utterly relaxed as he sips on a mango-muddled concoction. He must’ve gotten a couples massage with Namjoon, cute. Splitting up was definitely a good idea, by the time your meal arrives the two of you are practically leaning against each other, telling each other what events you need to do tomorrow and events you think will be fun to do together. 

“Joon,” Jungkook is throwing an arm over your Wusband’s shoulder, mildly tipsy. The image is adorable, as Jungkook long ago previously confessed that he felt a little jealous of Namjoon’s work relationship with you before you were dating. Now, it feels like they’re best friends and you’re third-wheeling. “What do you think about having halo-halo tomorrow? It’s like bingsu but with a bunch of other good stuffs. There’s red bean, mango, ube, ice cream…” 

Just as Jungkook begins his tirade of dessert ingredients, you pull up your phone to check on your social media. You smile back at your profile, seeing your latest Instagram post at the very top of the feed. Not to flex, but the two of you look pretty smokin’ since you’ve been keeping up with Jungkook’s insistence to join him at the gym. Jungkook and you are leaning against the pristine veranda, overlooking the clear blue water and a cloudless sky. The smiles you two sport are genuine and utterly in love. 

You scroll down the comments, most of them filled with sweet messages but one of them has you doing a double take. 

@sooyaaa__: 😒😒😒 knew something was goin on behind my back… good riddance

The smell of Jungkook’s detergent overtakes your nostrils, and you turn to him. He’s stopped talking, now immersed in whatever’s going on in your phone. 

“The nerve of her,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, disgusted at her latest comment. “As if anyone would believe her.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, “I feel bad for her, though. She’s probably lonely.” 

“Her loss, she put this upon herself. Not us.” 

You pout, “I know, but she was my friend at one point.” 

He frowns, putting an arm behind your backrest. It would be easy for him to say yeah, and she was my girlfriend and one-up you, leaving it at that. But now he knows better, and that friendship is a much better value than an ill-fated relationship. “Sorry baby,” it’s not his fault, but he sees your disappointment in putting out hope for an old friend. He gives you a little smooch on your temple, “do you miss her?” 

“The old her, yeah,” you sigh, clicking on her profile, “but now? I can do without her negativity.” 

“Okay,” he takes your phone from your hand, “have you ever blocked a person before?”

“No.”

“Well, today’s the day,” he says it so coolly, you barely have time to think when he clicks the ‘block’ button on Jisoo’s profile, then clicking off his phone to put in his pocket. “No more phone for today,” he proceeds to take your plate that was recently served, taking the time to cut your large vegetables into smaller portions. “Like you said, we shouldn’t waste your vacation time.” 

Your heart swells with butterflies for Jeon Jungkook, who’s meticulously cutting your food and telling you to relax and stop dwelling on the past. He’s right, if Jisoo’s not going to stick around for the future and continue to cause negativity in your life, why not keep the positives in the past while it lasted? 

“You know I love you, right?” 

He ceases cutting, and looks at you to pop a sweet potato in his mouth. “Love me enough to do it in the cabana?” 

He’s still on that? “Jungkook,” you warn, pretending to get up, “forget I said anything. I’m gonna go karaoke with Umji.” 

“Kiddingggg,” he whines, pulling you back down with an outstretched hand, “you know I love you too.” 

“You’re terrible.” 

“Only this way because I’d know you’d totally be into cabana sex if we were vacationing by ourselves.” 

“Yes, but you’re still terrible,” you giggle when Jungkook steals a kiss, just as easy as he’s stolen your heart.  

[helloalycia]

overstepping [one] // jane banner (Wind River)

summary: after getting several voicemails from your colleague and best friend with her asking for your backup, you attempt to call her back, only to get no answer.

warning/s: mentions of rape, murder and injuries.

author’s note: this is a two parter because i finally watched Wind River and it broke my heart but also lizzie was v cute and i felt the need to write this, hope you like it x

part two | masterlist | wattpad

"C'mon, work you stupid phone," I complained for the millionth time, before standing on the chair to get a better signal.

When I saw the bars in the corner of the screen increase, a grin appeared on my lips. I loved my parents, but the fact that they lived in a remote cabin in Tennessee with zero signal was not my favourite thing.

When the bars remained, my phone decided to actually be helpful and receive all the messages, calls and voicemails I missed. I did a brief flick through, noticing nothing was too important that couldn't wait for me to return to work. As an FBI agent, I rarely got time off. And now that I had taken a two month vacation to spend with my parents, I was adamant on enjoying it, even if I was missing work a smidge.

Next were the calls, which I noticed were mostly from my colleague and close friend, Jane Banner. I furrowed my brows, realising she'd left me several voicemails, too, which was strange since she knew I was on a break from work. What could be so important?

I sighed, glancing down at my uncomfortable position standing on the chair and leaning above the wardrobe. It was the only place in the house with decent signal and the only other place that wasn’t in the middle of nowhere was twenty minutes out. Telling myself I'd just listen to one voicemail to make sure everything was okay, I played the earliest message.

"Hey, Y/N. I'm sorry, I know you're on a break, but I just had to talk to you," it began, and Jane sounded troubled. "I was in Vegas, as you know, but I've been called out to a reservation in Wyoming where this poor girl was–" She paused, releasing a shaky breath. "She was raped and left to die out in the cold. I thought I could send in another team to take a look – y'know, usual protocol. But the coroner won't rule it a homicide and you know what that means."

I swallowed hard, knowing exactly what that meant. If it wasn't ruled a homicide, no backup would come and we had to move onto the next case. But if this girl was raped and left to die, the rapist was still out there and wasn't getting caught by the FBI.

"I can't just leave it and go," Jane continued quietly, with that recognisable passion for her job evident in her voice. "I have to do what I can. But I... I can't do this alone. It's not like other cases, Y/N. It's different out here. And there's only so much their police department can do. I know you're on a break, but I was hoping that, maybe, you could come out here and help me? It's the Wind River Indian Reservation. That's it, I guess. Bye."

The message ended and I found myself chewing on my lower lip anxiously, unable to think about anything other than Jane now. She'd worried me with that one voicemail alone – I couldn't imagine what the others said.

She was usually so good at dealing with cases, but this seemed different. She sounded shaken up, attempting to put on a brave face by the sounds of it. What was so different about this case? She didn't need me. She was capable.

Curiosity got the better of me and I played the second message, ignoring the discomfort in my arms as I stretched to maintain the signal. It was left a day after the first one.

"Hey, so I just remembered that you said you don't get much signal up there with your parents," she began apologetically. "I don't mean to– shit, it's so cold..." There was a pause, a noise in the background, then she continued, "Sorry, just turning up the heating. Anyway, I was saying. I don't mean to intrude on your break. I just– I'm hoping you'll find signal and hear this because I could really use your help. I think we've got a lead on who may have done it. It was hectic today. Really could've used that backup."

She chuckled dryly at her attempt at a joke, but all I felt was guilt. She sounded exhausted within a day of being there.

"I hope you get this," she finished with a sigh. "I should go. Got a busy day tomorrow. Hope you're doing okay. Bye."

I wasted no time in playing the next message. Three days into her case.

"I don't know why I keep sending these," she began with a hoarse voice, and my heart clenched at the sound of it. "You clearly aren't getting them in time. But it's easier talking to you like this than not at all."

It went quiet, so quiet that I thought she may have finished and forgot to hang up. But then she spoke up again, a whimper escaping her lips.

"It's so hard," she admitted. "We've covered worse cases, but this one... everything about it makes me uncomfortable. Something doesn't feel right. I've got a lead – we think it might be the boyfriend who did it and we're gonna see him tomorrow. But I don't know."

I frowned, squeezing my phone tightly because I didn't recognise the girl speaking as my friend. This girl sounded broken and I wondered what she could have discovered that made her like this.

"I've got the police department with me for backup," she said with a sniffle. "And Cory, he's a hunter whose been helping me with the case. They're all gonna be with me tomorrow. But I wish you were here, too. You always make things easier."

The lump in my throat wouldn't disappear no matter how many times I swallowed it. She made things easier, too. Always. And all I wanted to was be by her side and be there for her like she always was for me.

"Sorry about this," she said with a watery laugh, and I could imagine the embarrassed smile on her face as she did. "I sound like such an idiot. Never mind these messages. Just enjoy your break. I shouldn't be worrying you like this. See you when you get back."

The message ended and I checked to see if there were anymore, but to my disappointment, there wasn't. That message was from a few days ago and she hadn't sent anything since which was concerning in itself.

Trying not to panic for no reason, I called Jane. Hopefully everything was okay and I was being stupid. She was a fully-trained FBI agent. She could take care of herself. Right?

The call rang and rang, but nobody picked up. One missed call. No biggie. She probably heard it and couldn't find her phone or something. So, I tried again.

More ringing and no answer. Okay, no big deal. Just try again.

Another call and no answer. The chewing on my lip became more intense. Why the hell wasn't she picking up? Was she still working the case?

I waited an hour, trying again at ten minute intervals, unable to fight my concern. But there was no answer every time and I realised that I couldn't sit and wait for her to call back. Not after how she sounded in those voicemails.

No, I had to go there. She needed backup.

—

Wyoming was way colder than I could have prepared for.

I mean, technically, I prepared for nothing. I bid my parents a goodbye, threw some random clothes in a bag and caught the next plane over there. I tried for Jane's phone constantly, knowing she was never one to ignore me for this long, but there was no point. She wasn't answering, which could only mean so much.

When I reached the reservation, I had no idea where anything was or what I was looking for exactly. I just knew that as soon as the taxi dropped me off in the centre of town, I didn't know where to go.

There were a lot of locals hanging around, so my first port of call was to ask them if they'd seen Jane around – or Agent Banner, as she may have introduced herself. I showed them a picture of her on my phone, described her with vivid detail, but they just stared at me like I was crazy. I was starting to believe I was at one point, until I stopped by the convenience store.

As worried as I was for Jane's whereabouts, the chill in my bones was real. Especially my hands, which I was certain would fall off any minute. So, I decided to buy some gloves and also ask the cashier if he'd seen Jane around or heard anything of her. Whilst I was doing that, a customer caught my attention, probably having overheard my conversation.

"Did you say Jane Banner?" he asked with a quirked brow, interrupting my purchase. "The FBI lady, right?"

I nodded quickly, facing him. "Yes, that's her! D'you know where she is?"

He nodded casually. "Yeah, she's in the hospital. That big shootout that happened a few days ago, right?"

My stomach dropped. "The what?"

"The shootout," he repeated, not aware of the concern in my face. "At the drill site. A bunch of officers were killed and the FBI lady was one of the only one left standing." He tutted as he shook his head. "Very lucky that one."

A shootout? The hospital? Only one left standing? No wonder she hadn't been answering her calls.

"Can you– do you–" I stopped, clearing my throat and trying to stop freaking out. "Which hospital?"

After getting the address from him, I caught a taxi to the only hospital in town and prayed to God that Jane was okay. The one thing she'd asked for was backup and I couldn't even give her that. If I'd just looked at my messages sooner... fuck.

Getting past the front desk and to Jane's room was no issue at all. A quick flash of my FBI badge was enough for the receptionist to give me the details and wave me through. My heart was constricting in my chest the longer it took. What if it was really bad? What if that customer's intel was outdated and Jane was– no. I couldn't afford to think like that.

Upon finding Jane's room, I spotted an older man leaving through the door, being careful to close it behind him. I didn't recognise him at all.

"Excuse me," I called, earning his attention. "Is that Jane Banner's room you just came from?"

He seemed surprised, glancing over his shoulder to make sure I was speaking to him, before nodding. "Yes. Sorry, who are you?"

I pulled my badge from my pocket and showed him, though I doubted anyone would take me seriously when my eyes were watering at thought of Jane being severely injured.

"I'm her friend," I said, swallowing down the lump in my throat before lowering my badge.

"Oh, you're the backup that didn't come," he said with realisation.

My eyes flickered to the floor guiltily. He wasn't exactly wrong.

"I didn't mean it like that," he added quickly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

I shook my head, lifting my eyes to meet his. "It's okay. I should've... I should've been here." It went quiet as he didn't know what to say, so I looked to him halfheartedly. "I assume you're from the police department, one of the ones who helped Jane."

"Not exactly," he said, before putting out his hand for me to shake. "Name's Cory. I'm a hunter by trade."

Returning his handshake, I recalled Jane's voicemail. "Oh, yeah, she mentioned you... thank you for helping her out."

When I couldn’t, I added in my head.

He offered me a small smile and I couldn't find it in myself to return it. I must have looked like shit, since he gave me a pitiful gaze.

"You want me to catch you up before you go in?" he asked, nodding to Jane's door. "She's okay by the way."

I nodded, sucking up a breath. My nerves were eating away at me the longer I didn't see Jane – half of me was terrified of what I'd find, and the other half was afraid she'd be upset or angry because I left her to it, even when she pleaded for my help.

Cory and I took a seat down the hall and he proceeded to explain about the case and how they found the guy who raped that poor girl. The shootout was the worst bit, making me shiver with discomfort. Apparently, Jane had gotten blasted with a shotgun, puncturing her torso and neck despite the vest she wore. All of the officers with her were killed and by the sounds of it, Jane almost was, too. But Cory managed to take out the criminals and the rapist himself. When he was finished telling me, I had no words.

"She's a bit shaken up, but her surgery went well," Cory reassured with a short nod. "Does she know you're coming?"

I shook my head, voice thick with emotion. "She wouldn't answer her phone. I guess I know why now."

Cory nodded, rubbing the back of his neck before sparing me a consoling glance. "She talked about you a lot. I think it'll cheer her up seeing you. You should go."

My eyes met his, teary and stinging with unshed tears. "Thank you so much."

He shrugged bashfully, but he didn't realise all that he'd done. I gave him a small, tight smile before standing up with a sigh. No point dwelling anymore – I had to see her.

Pushing my selfish feelings aside, I sucked it up and approached Jane's room. She would either want to punch me or not, but either way, I had to see if she was okay. And so, when I opened the door slightly, heart racing in my chest, said heart jumped in my throat at the sight of her.

She was laying on the bed with wires stuck in her and, only from what I could see, bandages were covering the side of her neck. I thought she was sleeping at first, but then her head tilted towards the door curiously, and bright blue eyes widened with disbelief.

"Y/N?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "What are you– how did you get here?"

I closed the door behind me and hesitantly approached her bedside, unable to stop my eyes from soaking in the sight of her. She looked so feeble and vulnerable and unlike how I saw her last. Then, Cory's words came back to me and I began to imagine the worst scenario of her getting shot, blood seeping from her wounds, the life draining from her eyes...

"Y/N," she called, and I looked to her startlingly, hoping I didn't look as troubled as I felt.

"Sorry," I said, clearing my throat. "I, er– the messages. Voicemail. I heard them and tried calling you back, but..."

She pursed her lips, exhaling with a wince and looking up at the ceiling, as if suddenly remembering she left messages in the first place.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," I said quietly, guilt seeping back in.

"No, no, don't be," she said, and I just about noticed the pink dusting her cheeks. "It's not your fault. I shouldn't have interrupted your vacation like that. I know you said you wanted a break and–"

"Jane, no, don't even say that," I cut her off, reaching for her hand in an instant. She looked my way, eyes flickering between mine nervously. I squeezed her hand gently and said, "I should have been here. You needed me and I– I didn't come. Maybe if I had, this could have ended differently."

She tried to smile, but I could see the discomfort in her eyes. "It's not that bad, honestly. It just looks bad."

I pressed my lips together, eyes falling to the bandage on her neck. Even though it was big and covered her wound, I could still make out the bruising around it from the impact of the shell. I didn't imagine the torso wound looking any different, and that thought alone made me regret leaving her alone. It was very much as bad as it looked; I knew that and she knew that.

Her lips trembled as she avoided my eyes, her own tearing up. I pushed away my guilt momentarily and changed the subject.

"So, I met Cory. He seems like a great guy."

She didn't say anything as she seemed lost in thought. Either that or she was trying not to cry in front of me. I hoped it wasn't the latter, since the last thing I wanted was to make her feel uncomfortable.

"You know," I said, when she wouldn't speak, "I'm pretty sure I told you to stay safe before I left for my vacation."

At my poor attempt to lighten the mood, she cracked a small, tight smile, but a smile nonetheless, and my racing heart slowed down momentarily.

"I'm glad you're okay," I said, now that I had her attention again, and she looked my way with a softened expression. "Kind of okay. But you know... okay."

Thankfully, she knew what I meant and her hand tightened around mine.

"I'm glad you came," she returned, and I couldn't look away even if I tried. She was always able to trap me with a single gaze.

With a tug of her hand, she motioned for me to sit on the edge of her bed, so I did. And then she began to ask me about my vacation, what I'd been up to this past month, how my parents were... basically anything and everything except for the case. And it was understandable, since she was reminded of it all the time. If I could be a form of escapism for her, so be it. It was the least I could do.

We spoke for hours until the nurse came in to let me know visiting hours were over and I'd have to come back tomorrow. With a regretful sigh, I got up from my seat on her bedside and stretched my limbs.

"Where are you staying?" she asked, a slight frown on her lips.

I smiled awkwardly, realising I didn't think that far ahead. "I'm not gonna lie, I don't know. I came straight here. There's gotta be a hotel or something in this town, right?"

She nodded and flicked her hand to the shelves on the other side of the room. "You should stay in my room in the inn. Key's in my bag over there."

"Oh, I don't have to do that–"

"Y/N, it's not like I'm going to be staying there anytime soon," she cut me off, smiling halfheartedly. "Please."

I chewed on my lip and nodded, giving in. When I grabbed her keys from her bag, I stopped by her bedside and gave her a supportive smile.

"I'll back first thing in the morning, if you don't mind," I said, and she finally gave me a smile that reached her eyes.

"I'd like that."

I nodded, resting a hand on hers and squeezing comfortingly. "Goodnight."

—

Though I knew Jane was okay, I still couldn't stop myself from thinking about her all night. The sight of her wounds and the broken expression on her face was enough to keep me awake. And the guilt that came with it all... why couldn't I have just picked up my damn phone?

As promised, I returned to Jane's hospital room the next morning, this time bringing some breakfast snacks from the hospital cafeteria since I knew the food would be much better than whatever they were serving her. Judging by the content expression on her face when I gave it to her, I was right.

When she finished eating, she was able to sit up slightly and move over on her bed, urging for me to join her and watch some TV with her. There was no way I was going to turn down that offer, so I slid next to her and kept a packet of sliced apples between us as we watched whatever was playing on the TV.

About halfway through watching, she spoke up randomly, taking me by surprise.

"When are you leaving?"

I tore my gaze from the screen and realised she was staring at me with intense green eyes.

"When you're well enough to," I answered truthfully.

She looked down to her hands. "You don't have to stay with me. You can go."

I studied her profile, knowing it was the wrong time to appreciate how stunning she looked even when she was makeup-free, sporting a bed head and tired.

"Do you want me to go?" I asked softly, afraid I may have overstepped.

She was quick to shake her head slightly, finally lifting her gaze to meet mine with glossy ones. "No."

I nodded, trying very hard not to smile, cleared my throat and grabbed her hand. "Then I'm not leaving. I'll be right here until you get better and I can take you home."

A ragged breath escaped her lips as she nodded in response. We both looked back to the TV and I noticed she didn't let go of my hand, her fingers warm to the touch and giving me goosebumps at the contact. But I wouldn't have had it any other way.

[phoebe-delia]

Androgynous

It's the last day of pride, so here's a little Draco in drag living their best life. Old @drarrymicrofic prompt: Androgynous. You can listen to the Joan Jett by the same name here: Androgynous.

Written to cheer myself up, and as a little thank-you to my lovely friends for helping me through! @moonstruckwytch @apr1cots and @starlitsilvereyes

"Here comes Dick, he's wearing a skirt/Here comes Jane, you know she's wearing a chain/same hair evolution/same build evolution/tomorrow who's gonna fuss?/And they love each other so/androgynous"

Draco moved their hips to the slow beat, walking around the stage and trying to gracefully pick up the tips being thrown onto the stage, much more practiced in these cherry red stilettos than they'd been at the beginning of their career performing as Tarasque.

They'd taken extra time to tuck tonight since their black bodysuit left little to the imagination. They knew their legs looked particularly long and enticing in fishnets, and the bodysuit was sinched at the waist by their favorite lacy black corset. Their hair was charmed long tonight, straight shocking white blonde down to their waist. Their red lipstick matched their heels. All in all, they knew they looked good enough to eat.

And the crowd seemed to agree. Men and women and people somewhere in between seemed captured by their performance, watching them lipsync to Joan Jett's slightly raspy tone. Draco didn't understand why more people didn't get into Joan's music. She was an icon; they were glad to have discovered her during what Lucius called their Rebellion.

Draco smirked; to think he'd used to call that man family.

Draco had a new family. They had Cori, Silver and Claire, and the ever-supportive Pansy. Cori was Draco's drag parent, known for iconic hula-hoop stunts and brightly colored wigs. Silver was the youngest, the baby of the group, but they were already making a big impression on the rest of the queens as a great performer and an even better friend. Claire was their drag sister, and she had the best sense of style of all of them.

Pansy was as close to a biological sister as they'd ever had. Cori, like Draco, used they/them pronouns, but while Draco was he/him out of drag, Cori identified as nonbinary in their real life, too. Silver was nonbinary, too, but they used all pronouns.

Draco's eyes roamed the crowd until they found Cori, Claire, Silver and Pansy chatting at a back table, laughing as if they'd known each other for ages. Draco felt a swell of pride. They'd been relieved, when Draco'd introduced Pansy to their drag family, that the family Draco had chosen got on well after just a few weeks of knowing one another.

Draco'd felt terrified coming out to Pansy, but she'd just taken him in her arms and told him she loved him no matter what. And when she found out about his nonbinary drag persona, she'd been ecstatic.

Draco allowed themself a small smile at their friends before Tarasque continued their sweeping search of the crowd when their eyes fell on two piercing green ones already staring at them.

Ah, of course. The best part and least expected part of Draco's family: Harry.

Harry'd begun frequenting Draco's regular bar just a couple months after they'd started performing. Draco had been so shocked and frightened to see Potter that they nearly fell off the stage during their lip-sync.

When Harry approached them when they were still dressed as Tarasque, Draco'd hoped he wouldn't recognize his old school rival. But he just chuckled.

"If you could recognize me under a stinging hex, no amount of drag--no matter how beautiful--is going to keep me from knowing who you are."

After that, the two of them had gone for a drink, and Harry'd been a champion at differentiating between Draco's pronouns as Tarasque and those as himself. They'd talked and laughed and flirted until finally, Draco realized he was spending more time at Harry's flat than his own, to the point that Tarasque had their own small closet at Harry's. Draco'd even gotten into drag at Harry's flat when running late.

Now, they smiled at Harry, who grinned and raised his beer in a silent toast. Normally, Harry might be chatting with Draco's friends, but he had his own table, sitting across from an empty chair, waiting patiently for Draco to be done.

Tarasque stepped down from the stage and toward Harry, smirking when the man's eyes widened slightly.

"Closer than you know/love each other so/androgynous"

Draco continued their easy strides toward Harry, finally reaching his lap. Harry smirked, cheekily tucking a single paper banknote into Tarasque's bra.

Draco kissed him on the cheek, smirking at the red lipstick stain on his cheek before hopping off of his lap. Draco continued collecting tips from the audience as they made their way back up to the stage.

"And today the people dress the way that they please/the way they tried to do in the last century"

Tarasque walked up the steps to the stage, basking in the spotlight once more.

"Don't you get it?/Androgynous"

The song ended, and the crowd rose to its feet in applause. Tarasque smiled and bowed a little before handing the microphone to his other friend, Miss Schegoss, the drag queen host of the evening.

Miss Schegoss took the crowd's attention and Draco didn't bother to get changed before approaching Harry at his table again. Harry greeted him with a wide smile and a quick peck on the lips.

"You were great. And you look gorgeous."

Draco smiled. "Thanks, love. Shall we go sit with my family?

Harry grinned, taking Draco's hand. "Sure, let's go."

[talkfastromance4]

sparks and surprises// Luke&Lily oneshot

just some family fun :)

word count: 3.2k

Luke&Lily Masterlist

Masterlist

enjoy!

***

Lily and Posy were ecstatic about the upcoming holiday and the fact that it would be at your house. With Oliver being just shy of three months old, you didn’t want to take him out again after the weekend away. You spent the week before the 4th cleaning the house and picking up food from the store. 

On Saturday, Ashton and KayKay came over to pick Posy up for her karate lessons. She’s been on a kick watching Kung Fu Panda and would walk around the house ‘karate chopping’ the couch and kicking pillows while shouting ‘HIYAA!’ Ashton suggested taking her, there’s a studio next to his yoga class, and Posy was more than thrilled to be doing karate with her uncle. KayKay went along when she could and cheered Posy on.

You and Luke would alternate every Saturday to go watch her as well so one of you was still at home with Oliver. Sometimes Lily would go but she was always at Cory and Ella’s on the weekends.

“Go have fun and listen to your teacher, okay?” you told her kissing her cheek. You made sure her pigtails were tightened enough.

“‘Kay mama.”

“Is it alright if I take her for lunch afterwards?” Ashton asks, lifting her in his arms.

“Yeah that’d be great, thank you,” Luke says with Oliver in his arms. Ashton’s face lights up at his nephew. 

“There’s the little man,” Ashton smiles, reaching forward to stroke his cheek. Oliver stretches his arms up, his little face twisting from the touch. “He’s really getting bigger.”

“Yeah, he eats like his daddy,” you chuckle and poke Luke’s dimpled cheek. 

“All right, we should get going, huh little one?” Ashton asks Posy. “See you guys later.”

“Bye daddy!” Posy waves over Ashton’s shoulder. 

“Bye Pose!” he waves with a smile and then they’re out the door. He sighs. “Big cleanup day today, lovie.”

“I know. I’ll feed Olly and change him, then we’ll be out to help in the backyard,” you say, taking your son from Luke’s arms. “Hi sweet boy, did you sleep well?”

It was pretty warm out so you made sure Oliver had on a short sleeved onesie. You covered him in a blanket with a hat on and turned the small fan clipped to his carrier as you helped Luke with the pool. You vacuumed while he got  the leaves out from the top. You checked on Oliver multiple times but he seemed pretty content in his carrier. 

“I’ll get the tiki torches and line them around the pool,” Luke huffs, tying his hair in a bun. He tugged off his white tank top that had a sweat mark on the chest and tossed it to the grass. 

Your eyebrows raise in appreciation as he turns into the shed, his butt looks really nice in his black athletic shorts. Oliver makes some noise so you go to him immediately to see if he’s all right. When you reach in to check his temperature, his little hand grasps onto your finger tightly.

“I’m right here, baby. You’re doing so good out here, yes you are,” you coo at him and kiss his forehead. You sit down in one of the patio chairs when Luke emerges with about a dozen tiki torches. 

Watching him twist the torches into the ground, his back muscles flexing and glistening with sweat in the sun and his arms tightening leaves you hot and bothered. You’re transfixed by the power he wields in each one he places around the perimeter of the pool, your eyes moving over the slope of his back and you’re left with a wanting ache for him. 

“Are you all right over there?” he asks, strutting his way to you with his tank top in his hand. He just put in the last tiki torch and you shook your head from being frazzled. 

“Yeah, you just...you look so sexy right now, that’s all,” you shrug then look down at Olly who’s fast asleep. 

“I do?” he snorts resting his tank top around his neck, he uses it like a towel to wipe at his forehead. 

“Mhm,” you sigh, eyeing him up without remorse. 

His eyebrows raise and he glances at Oliver then back at you. “Care to show me how sexy I am?”

You lay Oliver in his crib so he can continue his midmorning nap and Luke is quick to drag you into your bedroom, his lips on yours. It’s been well over six weeks since your C-Section and you were given the okay to have sex again. 

“What time is it?” Luke mumbles, kissing your neck and pushing you to the bed.

“You have somewhere else to be?” you laugh then sigh when he starts to suck in your sweet spot. 

“I’m exactly where I need to be,” he groans when you dip your hand in his shorts and start to stroke him. “Ash and Po will be coming back soon.”

“That’s right,” you sigh and plop on the bed. You gaze up at him, his blond hair slipping out from his bun and he’s breathing heavily. You wiggle your fingers between his own and pull him down on top of you. “We’ll have to be quick then.”

He smiles before kissing you, his hand tugs your shorts down and he pulls himself out of his shorts. Your kisses are frantic and just as he pulls your underwear to the side, Oliver lets out a loud wail and Petunia barks at the front door. 

You groan at the horrible timing and Luke sighs on top of you. 

“We weren’t fast enough,” you sigh, letting him situate yourself and shoves himself back in his pants. 

“We’ll have some alone time soon, lovie,” he promises with a smile. He takes your hands pulling you in a sitting position.

“Mama! Daddy!” Posy calls.

You fix your hair and make sure your pants are buttoned and zipped before exiting the room to get back to your responsibilities.

***

It’s the morning of the 4th and you’ve just changed Oliver and put his blue overalls on with a red shirt underneath. Posy is wearing a blue dress with red sandals and you and Luke are matching in a red dress and a red tank top for him. Before your party, you’re all going to the parade in town where Cory and Ella will meet you with Lily and Violetta. 

“How hot is it outside?” you ask Luke, settling Oliver in his car seat. Posy is in his arms wearing white sunglasses. 

“Not too bad right now. I’ve got extra sunscreen in the bag and water.”

“All right, let’s go!”

Cory, Ella, Violetta, and Lily are already sitting down along the curb in their chairs. Lily springs up in her own blue and white dress to give you a big hug. Her hair is pulled back in a red headband. 

“Hi honey!” You hug her the best you can with Oliver in your arms, Luke and Posy are behind you with the stroller. “You did such a good job saving our seats for us!”

“Look at my necklaces!” Lily shows you the red, white, and blue beads around her neck. 

“Wow, you have so many! Hi guys,” you smile to Cory and Ella. Cory has Violetta in her arms and she’s in a white dress with a red bow on her head. 

“Po, I have some necklaces for you!” Lily runs to her sister and takes off two of her necklaces. “Aren’t they pretty?”

“Pwetty!” Posy gasps, touching the beads lightly with her fingers. 

You sit in the chair next to Ella smiling at Violetta, she’s chewing on her teething beads. Luke immediately requests a photo of all of you with Lily and Posy standing in front, their smiles wide and beautiful. 

“You need a family photo,” Cory says and takes Luke’s phone. 

You stand next to Luke pointing Oliver to the camera and Posy wants to be in Luke’s arms. Lily stands in front and you put your hand on her shoulder, all of you smiling. 

“Beautiful,” Cory smiles. 

The parade starts and the girls are excited watching the floats and bands go by. They’re especially excited when candy is tossed to them. Oliver does a decent job being content with the loud noise until the firetrucks and ambulances come by. 

Lily scrambles into Luke’s lap and he puts on her sound cancelling headphones she’s used since she was a toddler at his shows. Her small hands still hold onto the ear pieces and she watches the trucks drive by. Posy on the other hand is watching in awe and waving to the people inside. 

“Lily and I made cupcakes yesterday that we’re going to bring over,” Ella tells you.

“Oh, that’s great. When will you be coming by?”

“After Vi’s nap, she’s been having a hard time sleeping lately. How’s our little man doing? I love his overalls, he looks like a cute old man.”

“I know right?” you laugh stroking over his nose. “He’s doing good, eating a lot and he’s at the weight he should be.”

“Mama look at all my candy!” Posy runs up to you with her candy tucked in her dress like a sack. 

“Wow! It’s just like halloween!” you smile. 

When the parade is over, Posy is starting to get fussy too because you won’t let her eat her candy because she hasn’t had lunch yet. 

“We’ll see you guys later,” Cory laughs watching you all leave. Posy is wriggling in Luke’s arms nearing meltdown mode. 

Ever since her birthday she’s been having more meltdowns and you couldn’t agree more that it’s the terrible three’s and not the two’s. She’s learning how to test her limits with you and Luke and when it doesn’t go her way, she screams and does all the dramatics. 

Posy is still whining in the car and Oliver starts to whine now too because he’s hungry. Lily is holding her ears because Oliver’s cries increase.

“We’re almost home, sweets,” Luke says and turns into the subdivision. 

You’re trying to console Oliver by letting him suck on your knuckle but he just spits it out. You hate hearing your kids be upset. Luke parks in the driveway and you both scramble to get the kids out and your belongings. Luke takes Oliver and you carry a wiggling Posy inside the house. 

“I’ll feed him and then we’ll have a quick lunch I made for them this morning,” Luke says, opening the fridge and taking out Oliver’s bottle. 

Lily runs to her room to get away from the noise and you set Posy down on the floor. She literally collapses onto the floor, her face red and wet with her tears. You settle next to her letting her get her anger out. In a moment, she’s sniffling and coughs wiping at her cheeks. 

“Are you finished?” you ask gently and she nods. “C’mere by mama.”

You help her stand up and wipe at her wet face, brushing her hair away from her forehead. 

“Deep breath,” you say inhaling and she follows, then you let it out and Posy does as well. You repeat that three more times until her breathing is back to normal. “After lunch you can have one piece of candy, okay? We can’t eat candy for lunch. How about you go pick one out and I’ll get lunch started.”

“Okay mama.”

You’re gathering the lunches Luke prepared, ham and cheese sandwiches with grapes and applesauce. Lily comes running out and asks if she can help you, she’s always such a big help to you. Posy is playing with her toys in the living room when Luke comes back downstairs. 

“Daddy look!” Posy jumps up from her spot holding up the red lollipop she chose to eat after lunch. “I picked this for after lunch!”

“You did! I think that’s a very good choice, do you want me to hold onto it until you’re done?”

“Yeah!” she hands him the lollipop and he pockets it, giving you a wink. 

Posy climbs into her chair just as you set her plate of food down. Lily takes her place and the girls start eating. 

“Is he down?” you ask Luke moving to pick up the toys Posy was playing with. 

“Yup, hopefully he’ll sleep until people start coming.”

***

Your friends arrive right on time and are more than helpful with setting the food up outside and Michael has set up his music stuff in the corner. Lily and Posy are occupied by Calum and Ashton. Posy is showing off all her candy and practicing her karate moves with Ashton while Lily is telling Calum all about the parade. 

“You had your headphones on right?” Calum asks and she nods. 

“Yeah, they are too loud.”

“Do you have them for the fireworks?”

“In my room!”

Luke and Cory are manning the grill again, you decided on having chicken for dinner. Halfway through the party you go get Oliver and Michael comes over to say hi. You ask him how he and Crystal are doing with trying for a baby and he said they’re taking a break right now. They don’t want to stress about it too much. 

When it becomes dusk, Luke lights the tiki torches and the yard is in a fantastical glow. Posy keeps asking when the fireworks will be and you tell her it will be when it’s much darker outside. 

“Hey mama,” Luke murmurs in your ear, his hands wrap around your stomach. Ashton and Michael brought out the sparklers and were helping Lily and Posy with them. He kisses your cheek. 

“Hey,” you smile leaning into him. 

“Want to try and finish what we started yesterday?” his lips move to your shoulder and his kiss makes the strap fall down. 

“Right now?” 

“I meant later when the kids are asleep but if you want to try when the fireworks are going off...they’d mask how loud you are,” he teases. 

“You don’t want to watch the fireworks?”

“You’re the only firework I need,” he squeezes you.

“If Lily and Posy are okay during the show, we can try and sneak away,” you promise and turn around in his arms. His nose and cheeks are a little red and you touch his face lightly. “You got sunburned today.”

“So did you,” he glances at your cleavage where you see a very noticeable line. “I’ll have to rub aloe on you later.”

“Mm, that sounds nice,” you mumble and lean up on your toes to give him a kiss, your fingers tangled in his hair. He tastes like perspiration, a shot of tequila and Luke, your favorite taste. You get lost in his kiss and his arms wrapped around you. “Wanna slip away now?” you whisper, pulling away before you get too carried away. 

“I hope we aren’t too late,” a familiar voice says behind Luke. 

You both look at each other before turning around to see his parents and brothers standing there. Your mouth opens in a gasp and then Lily and Posy are running to Liz shouting ‘nana!’

“Oh hello my loves!” Liz exclaims hugging them both. 

“Mum? What are you doing here?” Luke asks tugging you along.

You’re all giving hugs and kisses and there’s questions about Oliver and why they didn’t tell you they’d be coming.

“Who cares, what a great surprise!” You laugh hugging Liz again. “I’m so glad you’re here, how long are you staying? Where are you staying?” 

“We rented a house not too far from here and we’re staying for the whole Summer.”

“The whole Summer?!” Luke’s eyes widen and he hugs his parents again. 

Lily and Posy try to get their attention but Jack quickly intercedes and asks them to show him how the sparklers work. The rest of the group come and say high and you gather Oliver in your arms so Liz can get a look at him.

“This is Oliver,” you smile and there’s tears in her eyes.

“Can I?” she asks, holding her arms out. 

“Of course!” you hand him over.

“He’s just darling, and he’s so strong! You just couldn’t wait to come into the world, huh handsome boy?” Liz coos rocking him. “He looks just like Luke.”

“I think so, too,” you smile, looping your arm around Luke’s waist. There’s a firework that goes off behind you, a sign from the neighbors that their show will be starting in about ten minutes. Lily clutches to your legs, covering her ears. “It’s okay, honey, we’ll go get your headphones.”

“Already got them,” Calum grins coming out from the house with the headphones in his hands. “Do you want to watch them with me, Lils?”

“Mama can I?” she asks looking up at you.

“Of course you can, go get your blanket to lay in the grass,” you tell her. 

“Help me pick a blanket, Cal!” She takes his hand and he follows her inside. 

You’re more than happy for Liz to hold onto Oliver while the fireworks go off, Posy is close to her sitting in Ashton’s lap. She’s chattering about her karate class and what happened at Disney World and that nana should come with next time. 

“I think that’s a great idea, bug,” Luke pinches at her cheek when he returns with a beer. He points at you. “Stand up.”

“What?”

“Up, lovie,” he smiles, pulling you up himself so he can sit in your chair. You place your hands on your hips. “Okay, sit down.” he pats his thigh and you sit down on his lap happily. “This is your seat for every firework show.”

You press your lips to his balmy forehead, it smells like sunscreen and the hot summer day that was today. 

“Guess we can’t sneak away now with your family here,” you mumble.

“It’s okay. If they’re here the whole summer, I’m sure we can go away for a night just the two of us,” he pinches your hip. 

“Maybe we could do a whole weekend?” you raise your eyebrows.

“You’ll be okay leaving Olly for a weekend?”

“Apart from me and you, I trust your mom. She had three kids of her own, you know.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” he laughs and gives you a kiss. “It’s a date, we’ll set something up.”

“Your birthday’s coming up,” you trace your finger along his bearded jaw. 

“Mm, that’s the best birthday present I could ask for,” he smiles. 

The fireworks start to go off and you look in the grass where Calum and Lily are, she’s sitting in his lap gazing up at the sky. He points to the ones way up and her mouth opens at the big ones. Posy is in Ashton’s lap and her commentary makes everyone laugh. 

“That’s my favorite! I love that one! Look Unca Ash!”

“I see! These are all my favorites, too,” he comments back. 

Then you look over at Oliver in Liz’s lap, she’s kissing his head and rubbing his back talking softly to him. You turn to Luke last who is already looking at you, his face lit up from the colors bursting in the sky. 

“I’m so glad I married you,” you tell him, pecking his lips gently.

“I’m glad you married me, too,” he grins. 

You relax against him and enjoy the rest of the display. Life is good and full of love.  

Taglist: @calumance  @in-superbloom @calpalirwin @karajaynetoday @wiiildflowerrr @sunshineeeluke @littledrummeraussie @suchalonelysunflower @hoodhoran @Fobodob @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sunshineeashton @ashtonsunflower @mymindwide @itjustkindahappenedreally @seanna313 @fivesecondsofonedirection @princesslrh @prentisswrites​ @mulletcal​

[plus-size-reader]

Spin the Bottle

Shawn Hunter x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1876 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Cory’s twin sister has a huge crush on Shawn, and gets suckered into admitting it at a party

Part 2

——————————————————————————————————

You had never really been into parties as a general rule.

You didn’t like all the strangers and all the pressure to be something that you weren’t. It just wasn’t your scene, and frankly, it was never going to be. You and your brother had always been losers, outsiders to the popular crowd

...but you had been invited to this party by Shawn Hunter.

Which meant that you had to go.

Shawn had been your brother’s best friend since you were children, and that meant that he had been in your life for as long as you could remember.

Honestly, it had been so long that you could hardly even remember a time before him.

He was all you’d ever had that was even close to a friend outside of your brother, and it was only a matter of time before the feelings you had for Shawn morphed into something else.

It was a classic highschool trope, falling for your brother’s best friend but you just couldn’t help yourself. Shawn was calm, cool and collected all the time.

Anyone in their right mind would be completely head over heels for him, and by the time you were in high school, you had the biggest crush on him that you were sure anyone ever had.

Still, the worst part of the whole thing was that you had to keep it a secret.

If Cory ever found out, you would never hear the end of it. You knew that, and you were also one hundred percent sure that Shawn would never share your feelings.

You knew him too well to ever live under the illusion that he would.

Shawn had dated plenty of girls, different kinds of girls, from all walks of life but never anyone that looked like you. Every girl he’d ever been attracted to was a size two at the most and you just weren’t.

You never had been, and you doubted that you ever would be, so you made a point to keep your crush all hidden away.

It was your biggest secret, and you were absolutely positive that it would never see the light of day. It was just better for everyone that no one ever found out about it.

Or at least, they never should have.

You did as good a job at keeping it hidden as possible but still, the truth always found a way to come out into the open. It was bound to happen at some point.

...And apparently, that day was today.

You arrived at the party with both males, to find the room crowded, and full to the brim with people but you were only focused on a single corner of it, the corner you were in.

Everything else was far too overwhelming to pay attention to.

Really, you were just waiting for the entire thing to end so that you could go home but just when you thought the night was wrapping up, you were proven wrong again.

From where he was standing, in the middle of a huge crowd of people, Shawn had insisted on beginning a game of spin the bottle.

It was a terrible idea really.

You had never liked that game.

It felt like a stupid excuse to humiliate other people for no reason other than the fact that you could, fueled completely by peer pressure and a desire to fit in.

However, even knowing that, you chose to partake anyway. You couldn’t help yourself where Shawn was involved.

It was pathetic and you didn’t need anyone to tell you that to come to terms with it. You knew that it was ridiculous and you would never live it down if anyone found out.

You just didn’t care.

“Who wants to go first?” he called, looking between every single person who had sat down in the circle around him, doing their very best to avoid his focused gaze.

Even the most confident girls fiddled nervously with their fingers, doing anything they could to keep from looking him directly in the face.

That was just the effect Shawn seemed to have on everyone he was around and you were, in no way, immune to the feeling. You wanted to volunteer, of course, but knew better.

If Shawn focused his attention on you for more than a few moments at a time, there was no telling how you would react. With this many people around, everyone was bound to take notice.  

Still, after a few rounds, as the game continued, everyone grew more and more relaxed with one another, as did the bottle spinning.

Every part of this was nearly enough to give you a panic attack but when your turn finally did roll around, you tried to just keep your head down until it was over.

That came, of course, but not in the way you would have expected.

You reached out to grasp the bottle by the neck, giving it a hefty spin. You couldn’t even bother to look at it as it came to a stop, not willing to endure the embarrassment.

Frankly, you would have been more willing to crawl into a hole than to do this at all.

Though, just when you were sure it couldn’t have gotten worse, you looked up to find Shawn standing there, offering a hand to you. You took it, out of habit, but couldn’t really think past that.

The group of teens around you hooted and hollered as you stood from where you’d been sitting, trying to fade from this plain of existence.

This was fun for them.

Part of you wondered what he was thinking, wondered why he didn’t just refuse, moving on to the next player. It would have been easier than having to submit himself to any kind of ridicule.

Still, Shawn didn’t even seem to bat an eye at their teasing.

Not that you had much time to process that before you found yourself locked within the close confines of the hall closet, the muffled laughter still audible.

That part was added later in the game with some of the players suggesting it would be much more fun to morph the current game with seven minutes in heaven.

An even worse idea than before.

Though, even you had to admit that you were kind of glad for the privacy now. At least if Shawn was going to reject you completely, he wouldn’t do it in front of everyone you knew.

“You okay kid? I’m not gonna bite ya” Shawn teased, closing the door behind your two bodies, yanking the string to turn on the light slightly after.

You nearly retched at that terrible nickname.

It was the same thing he’d been calling you since elementary school, when it had been cute. Now that you were nearly adults, it almost felt like an insult.

You didn’t need any more reminders that Shawn didn’t see you as a dateable girl. You needed to just accept that, to him, you were never going to be more than his best friend’s sister.

“How long do you want to stand here before we can go back out?” you asked, not even operating under the illusion that he would actually want to do anything here with you.

As far as you knew, you were just going to stand here for a few minutes then you were going to go home as quickly as you could.

All you could hope for was the chance to dodge the comments on your way to the car. Those jerks were going to eat this whole thing up and you would likely never live it down.

Now, from where he was standing, Shawn was admittedly shocked.

That wasn’t the reaction he’d been hoping for.

“Geez, not even a little humor?” he teased, knitting his eyebrows together, though his lips tugged into a smile. This was just a big joke to him, or so it seemed.

You should have seen this coming.

“Did you set this up? Is this some kind of joke?” you asked, briefly considering that Shawn could have done this all for a laugh, though you didn’t think he would.

At this point, you couldn’t put that past anyone.

“Wow. What are you talking about?” he asked, all signs of that smile now gone. Up until now, he thought you were playing along with him but in that moment, that fell away.

You seemed really upset.

“What is going on? Did something happen?”

Those words came a moment later, when you didn’t answer his first question. You knew that he was worried about you, and that it was all coming from a good place but you were already too far gone to stop now.

You couldn’t just grin and bare your way out of this.

At this point, you had been doing that for too long.

“No Shawn, nothing happened and it’s never going to. I’m never going to be hot and athletic like Jennifer Bassett or exciting like Dana Pruitt” you sighed, burying your face in your hands as you spoke.

You were humiliating yourself, and it was all for nothing. Shawn didn’t even know what you were talking about.

“What? Why would you want to be?” he questioned, wracking his brain in a desperate attempt to figure out where you were going with this.

He hadn’t thought about either of them in quite some time but clearly, you hadn’t given yourself that same luxury. You had something going on, and he was going to figure it out.

No matter how long it took or how stupid he made himself look in the process.

“God! Because they’re perfect and that was why you liked them so much. I can’t be like that, and that’s why-” you scoffed, leaning down against the door until you came to rest on the floor, your words fading away the longer you went.

If you had let what you were about to say slip, nothing would ever be able to take it back.

...And Shawn seemed to realize that too.

“Why what?” he hummed, kneeling down beside you, his hand gingerly falling on your chin in a desperate attempt to get you to look at him.

You were doing that thing Cory always did, pretending like you could keep it all in though it was only a matter of minutes before you burst and told him the truth.

“Come on Kid, just tell me what’s going on. Please”

You wanted to smack that gentle, supportive man in his face for sitting there, acting like he actually cared about you but you couldn't.

You couldn’t, because he was really just gentle and supportive.

“Why you could never like me like that” you muttered, swallowing thickly as soon as those words left your lips. It was killing you, this whole thing, and you nearly cried at the thought of it.

...But you knew that would do no good.

You had made peace with the truth a long time ago, but something about tonight put a chip in that wall you’d built and it was just getting harder to cover it up.

Not that it would matter much after this.

Shawn would probably never speak to you again after this and you couldn’t blame him.

[golden-web]

This therapist’s room is much different from Dr. Raynors. The light are dimmed, not in a dingy way but soothing. The Furniture is soft and colorful. Dr. Garner sits across from me. He’s a middle aged black man. Nearly the opposite of what dr. Raynor was.

“I did read through Dr. Raynors notes, but if you wouldn’t minds would you like to tell me what you two talked about? What she did that helped or didn’t? Or we can’t just start new.” His face is open and gentle. I pull at my sleeve.

“Could we start new?” I hold my breath.

“Of course, it’s easier sometimes that way. Today I want to know about Finley. Not the shit that happened to Finley, unless you want to, but what do you enjoy? Favorite memories, or stories. Today is what you want to talk about. If you want to tell me about your favorite movie go for it.” It feels like a trick but I’m gonna go with it as long as I can.

“Uhm okay. I have a cat named Teo. I’ve had him for a little bit now. He’s a little black cat. He likes scratches behind his ears and gets upset when someone’s not home. Not in I’ll rip up the carpets but I won’t eat and will look like a kicked puppy, but you know a cat.” He smiles and puts his clipboard down on the table and leans forewords. He motions for me to continue. “I didn’t have friends for a while. I think sometimes, especially before I realized I was non binary, it’s because I couldn’t fit into to boys and girls. It was kinda lonely. But I when I realized I was non binary before sixth grade, my parents where really supportive. I was so lucky. Then that year I meet Cory. It’s been me and her sense. Through everything she’s always been there for me. I feel like sometimes I don’t deserve such a good friend. We made two other friends in our sophomore year. And their both really cool, one moved away, which is my fault. And one I’ve been to scared to see sense, well everything. I’m gonna try though.” I stop to catch my breath. I don’t know why but I just feel safe. And I haven’t unloaded so much to someone in a while. It feels, good.

I talk for the rest of the hour. Talking about songs, movies, books, food. Anything and everything. I use to be able to do this with Cory, but the waters have been tight the last few times we’ve been together. And I didn’t even notice. I feel light and heavy at the same time when time is up.

[itslunarwritesstuff]

Movie night

Prompt: “This movie is really scary, but you’re so into it I’m trying not to cover my face the whole time but- WHAT IS THAT”

Word Count: 2,600

Pairing: Shawn Hunter x Fem! Reader

Summary: Weekly movie night at Y/N’s house isn’t exactly what Shawn planned when Y/N picks a horror movie for them to watch. The thing is Shawn hates gore-filled horror movies they scare him half to death but refuses to bruise his ego by telling her and not wanting to disappoint his girl. 

Contains: Fluff, Cuddling, Hair playing, and braiding. 

Y/N/N: Your nickname Y/C/H: Your color hair

Y/L/N: Your last name

___________________________________________________________________________________

It’s the last class period of the day and thankfully it is a Friday so the weekend is coming shortly. 

Y/N is separating her books between what she needs for the weekend and not. 

When she is finished she swings around with her backpack on her shoulders and runs face-first

 into someone.  

Books flying onto the ground and Y/N’s body as well, it takes her a moment to register that this has actually happened and then she sits up pulling her shirt back down to cover her exposed stomach that must have ridden up from the fall. 

That someone is quick to bend down and offer her a hand up and help with her books, that someone being Shawn Hunter her boyfriend of only a few short weeks but a friend of much longer. 

“Y/N I’m so sorry are you okay” he apologizes. 

“No worries honey” Y/N smiles up at him. 

Shawn turns his head as to not look directly at her, his face full of embarrassment from her falling and the casual nickname. 

Mustering up some courage to speak he grabs her books off of the tiled floor and says “So are we still having movie night at your house tonight”?

Shawn hands Y/N the stray books and notebooks and she answers “Yuppers, my parents gave me the okay the other night, and get this! They’re letting us use the basement with the bigger TV; perfect for ‘The Gore Saga: Knife to meet you’”!

Trying to convey the same excitement as she is Shawn lies right through his teeth saying “That sounds awesome, I can’t wait”. 

For a little background, Shawn hates horror movies with gore. Paranormal he can deal with, maybe even psychological thrillers, anything but gore. But it was Y/N’s turn to pick the movie and he didn’t want to be the one to ruin anything for her. So no matter how much he squirmed and cringed he decided he will not say a word on the matter; for her sake and his, he did have his own pride to look out for as well. 

After all of her belongings were stowed away in her backpack she swung the object back over her shoulders and turns her head over towards Shawn’s then spots Cory and Topanga. 

Y/N wouldn’t want to leave her friends out so she tells Shawn “I think we should invite Cory and Topanga, I think it would be fun to have the four of us hanging out”. 

Before Shawn could protest she was already walking over to the infamous couple. 

Shawn usually wouldn’t be against having his two best friends come along but knew if he chickened out they would most definitely poke fun at him and his pride couldn’t take that hit. Also, he wanted to be alone with Y/N cause the difference between tonight and the other movie nights they have had; is Y/N’s parents were gone for the weekend. And Y/N’s older siblings would be the ones “watching them” which meant they could basically do whatever they wanted. Which meant he gets to spend the night, per Y/N’s request of course. 

“Hey Y/N, Shawn how are you guys”? Topanga asks. 

“Besides falling back there, Doing pretty good. Hey, we wanted to ask you two a question” Y/N answers. 

“Okay shoot”.

“So Shawn and I are having a movie night tonight and was wondering if you guys wanted to join us.” 

While Y/N said this Shawn stood behind her swinging his arms and overtly mouthing the word “No”. 

Cory is confused and doesn’t get the memo and almost says yes but Topanga gets the hint that Shawn wants to be alone with Y/N for the night and jabs her boyfriend in the side. 

“We actually have our own date planned tonight but thank you for the offer,” the girl opposite Y/N says. 

Cory still doesn’t get the memo and says “We do”? 

“Yes Cory, remember”?

“No actually, which is alarming cause I remember anything and everything Topanga related,” Cory says with a genuinely worried expression on his face scratching his head.

Topanga leans over and whispers in her partner’s ear, a sudden look of understanding coming over him. 

“Right that date thing” Cory laughs and says “You two have fun...lots of fun” a cheeky smile insinuating something else and walking away behind Topanga. 

“Was he being weirder than usual or was that just me” Y/N turned and asked Shawn. 

“It was definitely him, Trust me”. 

“Okay, will you walk me home. I really don’t want to take the bus today”. 

“Yeah of course. One second let me just grab my bag from my locker”. 

After Shawn grabs his backpack filled with his overnight things and his books that Y/N made him begrudgingly put in there too; they head towards her house. 

It is a nice spring day the only downside was the slight chill in the air despite it being sunny outside. 

Even though Y/N had a sweatshirt on she was still freezing, it was as if Shawn sensed this and put his arm around her shoulder her hand coming up to interlock their fingers. They walked in sync staying close on the narrow sidewalk. Most of the walk was silent because they spoke through touch and subtle glances. 

When they arrived at Y/N’s house her parents were still home but there was no worry, they trusted the two teenagers and her parents just adored Shawn. They wanted Y/N to be with Shawn before Y/N even knew she wanted to be with him. 

“Hi Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N almost ready for your weekend getaway,” Shawn asked her parents when they entered the house. Suitcases were lined up next to the front door. 

“Almost, we are just going down our checklist making sure we don’t forget anything.” Y/N’s Mom said frantically checking boxes on the slip of paper in her hand. 

“We left money on the kitchen table for food tonight, so you guys order whatever you want for your movie night” Y/N’s Dad informed them. 

“Thank you, Dad. Love you guys have a safe trip” their daughter pulled each of her parents into individual hugs. 

Her Mom gives Shawn a hug as well “Love you Shawn, be good okay” he nods and returns the squeeze. Y/N’s family has always been there with open arms for the Hunter boy since they were kids. He even stayed with them for a while as well as the Matthews when his Dad went looking for his Mom a while back. 

Y/N’s Dad opted out for the hug and gives Shawn a handshake instead saying “The Gore Saga huh, you’re a braver man than I am Shawn. I have no idea how she enjoys those movies”.

Shawn just laughed as the adults made their way out of the house. 

Later after the pair have eaten and gotten everything set up; blankets and pillows on the couch, refreshments, and the rented VHS tape of ‘The Gore Saga: Knife to meet you’.

Shawn gulped on the couch while Y/N slid the tape into the VCR; she hurried back over to the couch excitedly and all of Shawn’s fear disappeared when she hopped onto the couch next to him. Her smile wider than ever and her head rested on his lap, he distracted himself from the film by running his fingers through her hair. Sometimes making short little braids then pulling them apart right after, and for the most part, his tactic worked. Until she sat up and stretched out next to him to make herself more comfortable, he didn’t have her touch to soothe him anymore. 

(Warning descriptions of gore coming up)

After a few minutes a pretty gruesome scene unfolded on the screen in front of them; its the part of the movie where the killer gets one of the dumb ones who run into every trap he has set while trying to run away, and this guy was now being ran through a humongous factory meat grinder...and he’s dead. Blood, guts, and bones is all that comes out of the other end. 

Shawn could no longer keep his composure he was bugging big time, but when he looked over at Y/N he saw the opposite expression on her face. Where his face was full of disgust and fear, hers, on the other hand, was full of glee and joy. Who would have known that the sweet Y/N Y/L/N was a gore fan, the same girl who cried when they were nine because some kids destroyed an anthill at recess. 

Again he couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Y/N”? he softly pleaded her name. 

She turned her body towards him her eyes barely leaving the screen she was so captivated. 

“Yes, Shawnie” she continues. 

“Could you please come back over here and let me hold you or you could hold me, Even better”! Shawn reached out for Y/N desperately. 

Scooting back over to her guy she motions for him to lay on her lap and god does he! He clasps his arms around her left one holding it against his chest. She senses some of his discomfort, and she makes work by running her nails down his scalp and a rushed breath and hum escaped Shawn’s lips. 

Putting her focus back on the TV while she continued soothing the boy who laid on her legs. 

Another putrid scene of killings displays on the screen and Shawn jumps from underneath her. 

“Shawn, Baby are you okay”? Y/N asks concerned her fingers brushing her sweet boys face. 

“I’m sorry babe it’s just this movie is really scary, but you’re so into it I’m trying not to cover my face the whole time but- WHAT IS THAT”! Shawn screeches. 

Y/N jumps at the shrill noise of his scream but cannot help but laugh shortly after. 

He is just too adorable sometimes, she would have never thought her hot shot of a boyfriend would be squeamish of a little gore. 

Never the less she smiled at him still clinging her arm to his chest while his head laid on her lap.

“Babe, are you okay,” she asked still giggling. 

“Yes …” another blood splatter to the screen made Shawn jolt yet again. His eyes showed defeat as he finished “...No, I mean. This gore stuff isn’t exactly my favorite. 

“Well, why didn’t you just tell me that earlier, Duckie” Shawn always had a soft spot for that pet name it was one she didn’t use often but when she did it made his heart flutter beyond words. 

“I didn’t want to ruin your fun, Y/N/N,” he said sheepishly. 

“Oh, baby. That’s very sweet of you but I have plenty of other movies we could watch. I’ll finish this one another time, no big deal” Y/N let out a breathy laugh at just Shawn being Shawn, and the whole ‘I’ll watch it because you enjoy it’ thing made her stomach flip. 

Giving Shawn another option she says “How about a romantic comedy”? Shawn nodded his head frantically. He would deny it if anyone else knew but Y/N knew Rom/Coms were secretly his favorite. 

Sadly he peeled his body away from hers so she could go and eject the tape and put the new one in. After sliding in the much less graphic film she was less than surprised that she saw Shawn waiting for her to cuddle him on the couch, he had moved from one end to the other where the couch had an ‘L’ shape so they could hold each other while still being able to watch the movie. 

But she wasn’t complaining, whenever she got to touch Shawn in this sweet innocent way she felt like when you do when you’re at home safe and most of the time drowsy. 

She laid there in between his leg;  back laid back against his chest. He had his arms around her torso playing with her fingers that laid relaxed on her sides, and his face was buried into her hair. 

“Shawn darling, what are you doing” she giggled at the tickle of his nose brushing her jawline while he smelled her cascading locks. “Mhm your hair smells so good, and it’s so soft.” his hands slip away from her sides as he starts to comb through the Y/C/H that covered Y/N’s shoulders. After he got all the small knots out, he started braiding her hair again but this time all together instead of little strands. 

Y/N tried her best to pay attention to the love story in front of them but was more distracted by her own, right here in her basement. If she were coyer and the movie wasn’t on she would most likely jump this boy, just to shower him in kisses.

After a while long after Shawn had stopped playing with her hair, Y/N relaxed into his frame, her hands and legs tangled with his underneath the heavy but comfortable knitted blanket on top of them. 

Then came a scene where the guy and the girl have their first kiss and with all of the emotion that’s been building up, they physically cannot keep their lips off of one another and a makeout session ensues. 

Just thinking about Shawn kissing her made Y/N instantly blush, even if they were way past first kisses. 

And now Y/N was the one who couldn’t hold it together anymore, she needed kisses Now. 

Turning in Shawn’s arms she misplaces his head from the crook of her neck where every once and while leave soft little pecks across the splay of skin on her neck and jaw. And it was making Y/N’s body flush with anticipation, but nothing came of it. 

Shawn looked surprised that Y/N had moved but all he softly said was “Baby whats wrong? Do you not like the movie”? And he tucked the loose hair around her face back behind her ear. His hand lingered on her cheek thumb grazing the almost invisible baby hairs that tickled while he does so. 

Instead of answering his question Y/N leans in slightly, puts her arms around his neck and toys with the hair at the nape of his neck sending shivers down his spine. 

Knowing what she wants, she makes eye contact with the beautiful boy in front of her and asks “Can I have a kiss please” with the softest voice because she is still afraid he might say no and he is allowed to say no. 

Wasting absolutely no time he closes the gap between them as he cups her face with one hand and the other holding her lower back in a way to balance her almost. Their lips moved as one and Y/N couldn’t help but smile into the kiss a giggle about to pop because of her happiness. 

But before she could, Shawn was laughing and he had to pull away to compose himself. 

Y/N chuckled with him “What’s so funny huh”?

“You’re just so cute and polite. I love that you always ask me before kissing me. And honestly its sometimes surreal that you’re my girl ya know, I mean look at ya.” 

“You aren’t so bad yourself Hunter. And I enjoy being ‘Your girl’ very much”.

Y/N fanned her hands out on Shawn’s chest keeping some distance between them while they spoke so she could see him properly. 

Shawn leaned back in asked “May I kiss you, Princess” “Of course” she answered shortly attaching her lips back to his in a hurry. 

It’s safe to say that the movie was long forgotten for the rest of the night, they were too wrapped up with each other.

[96thdayofrage]

The father of a biracial 7-year-old girl is outraged after a librarian at Ganiard Elementary School in Mount Pleasant, Michigan cut his child's hair.

Jimmy Hoffmeyer saw the unwarranted new look on March 26 when his daughter Jurnee came home from school with her hair cut within inches of her scalp, The Black Wall Street Times reported.

The incident happened two days after Jurnee's classmate had cut her long curly hair on one side as she was heading home on the bus. Hoffmeyer took his daughter to the salon after the bus incident and allowed her to choose a new look.

“I know how today’s society is,” the father said. “I wasn’t going to let my little girl go to school with half of her hair cut off.”

Hoffmeyer was even more outraged when a similar incident happened again a couple of days later.

“I don’t think there are words to express how I felt in that moment,” he said.

As he saw his daughter crying when she came home, the furious father first suspected that another student had once again cut his child's hair. But Jurnee said it was a librarian that did it this time.

"I couldn’t believe it," Hoffmeyer said. "I jumped in the car to go to the school, but realized it was spring break. I couldn’t get ahold of anyone, so I called the cops.”

The school's secretary later told the parent that she was in “utter disbelief,” but the principal wouldn't be available to talk to the father until after spring break, a week later.

Hoffmeyer demanded consequences when he was finally able to talk with Ganiard Principal Marcy Stout.

“She apologized and said she didn’t know why they would do that,” he said. “I asked what was going to be done about it and she said they would probably get a mark in their progress folder or something. And that any further actions would need to go through the superintendent. So, I told her I want the superintendent to call me.”

However, the discussion with superintendent Jennifer Verleger didn't make the situation any better.

"The superintendent called and sounded very insincere and short," Hoffmeyer said. "She asked if it would make us feel better if she had the teachers send ‘I’m sorry’ cards in the mail.”

As the father considered pulling his daughter out of the school, the principal tried to convince the family to stay, offering to follow the child around campus to make sure nothing happens to her.

"How is the solution to punish my kid?” Hoffmeyer asked.

The enraged parent added that the school has refused to let him see footage from the bus incident, telling him there is nothing to see. As he continues to demand clarity, Hoffmeyer has been proudly sharing photos of his daughter on social media.

The family is now getting help from the National Parents Union, which is seeking a civil rights attorney to handle the case.

“No child should have to experience this type of humiliating ordeal because of their hair texture, style, or type! The adults entrusted with her learning crossed the line, didn’t protect her, and had no desire to be accountable for their actions,” the NPU stated.

Although the father did not say if he believed the incident was racially motivated, the organization is demanding for Michigan lawmakers to enact the CROWN Act. As Blavity previously reported, Senator Cory Booker announced the CROWN Act in 2019 to ban discrimination based on hair texture and hairstyles. The bill first passed in California, then New York.

“Discrimination against Black hair is discrimination against Black people,” Booker said in 2019. “Implicit and explicit biases against natural hair are deeply ingrained in workplace norms and society at large. This is a violation of our civil rights, and it happens every day for Black people across the country.”

Citing one of the high-profile cases of discrimination in recent years, Booker talked about Andrew Johnson, a young man who was forced to cut his locs before a wrestling match in New Jersey in 2018.

Last month, a Black mother in Chicago demanded change after her 4-year-old son’s hair was regarded as a dress code violation. Ida Nelson said the private school, Providence St. Mel, deemed the style unacceptable because her son had his hair in braids.

"I said, 'We still have policies related to Black hair in 2021, as an all-Black school? I'm really shocked about that,'" the mother said. "We have progressed, we have so much more information. I thought surely this school would understand the trauma associated with policing Black hair and absolutely not have a policy like that."

Jurnee, who has now moved to a new school, is struggling to cope with the incident.

"We’ve had to take her to the doctor because she hasn’t been eating. She’s having trouble sleeping now and always wants to be with us. All of this because her hair didn’t look how they thought it should, wasn’t done to their standards," Hoffmeyer said. "If you look at pictures of her before this happened, you can just see her spark and her energy. Now it’s like it’s just gone."

[sadmmann]

Life lost in the club Pulse

Today and every day we remember 49 innocent victims lost 3 years ago in Orlando, June 12, 2016. part 1

Edward Sotomayor Jr, 34

Edward was a caring, energetic man known for wearing a silly top hat on cruises, Edward worked for a company that held gay cruises and often travelled to promote the company’s events.

Stanley Almodovar III, 23

Stanley worked as a technician in a pharmacy, he was described as “good, but impudent” and a person who is not indifferent to his own sexual identity. "He was so proud of who he was."

Luis Omar Ocasio-Capo, 20

Luis described himself as a dancer on his Facebook account. Following the terrorist attack at the Bataclan theatre in Paris last year, he showed solidarity with the victims by adding a tricolour filter to his profile photo. A former teacher described him as a ‘ray of sunshine’. 

Juan Ramon Guerrero, 22

Guerrero worked as a telemarketer, and was in school at the University of Central Florida. He was attending Pulse with his boyfriend, Christopher Andrew “Drew” Leinonen, who also died in the attack. “Juan and Drew were soul mates, and they were great together,”

Eric Ivan Ortiz-Rivera, 36

After moving to Florida from Puerto Rico for the chance of a better life, Eric , a merchandise manager, was said to have ‘sacrificed himself a lot for his family’, the Orlando Sentinel reported. ‘Eric was always willing to help everybody. He loved his brother, and he was always being generous.’

Peter O. Gonzalez-Cruz, 22

Peter worked for logistics company UPS in Orlando after graduating from Colonia High School. Originally from South Africa.

Luis S. Vielma, 22 

Luis worked on the Harry Potter ride at Universal Studios, according to author JK Rowling, who said she could not ‘stop crying’ after hearing the news. Friends told the Orlando Sentinel that Mr Vielma was a ‘true friend’, and he had hoped to become an emergency medical technician. One, Olga Glomba, described him as ‘a funny, sweet, nerdy guy without a mean side. He just wanted to make people smile.’

Kimberly Morris, 37

Morris, a bouncer at the nightclub, was a former basketball player at Post University in Connecticut. “She was tough and played hard on the basketball court but off the court she was all smiles.” “She always had a smile on her face,”

Franky Velazquez, 50

DeJesus was a professional dancer who had danced in Puerto Rico and had traveled the world. “Jimmy was lovable, outgoing,” his sister, Sarah Lopez, tells. “He was one of those guys that you wanted to be friends with, you know? One of those people who brightened a room when he walked in.

Xavier Emmanuel Serrano Rosado, 35

Rosado was the father of a 5-year-old child and also a professional dancer, specializing in salsa. Close friend tells that he used to dance for Disney and Universal Studios. “He was a great, great father,” she says. “He was just the most fun, happiest guy you could ever know.”

Javier Jorge-Reyes, 40

Jorge-Reyes had a passion for life, according to friend. Ortiz met Jorge-Reyes, who was originally from Puerto Rico, through her practice, and says, “He was so funny and so alive and savvy.” “He had an extreme talent for the arts and was very creative with makeup,” she shares.

Shane Evan Tomlinson, 33

Tomlinson was a lead singer in Frequency Band, a local cover band that performed top 40 songs, according to longtime friend Jai Saint. “He has a great voice, he is so popular around here. Honestly it’s hard not to enjoy his voice,” Saint tells of his best friend of 10 years. “He’s extremely positive, he’s all about life and living it to the fullest. He had amazing energy, which is hard to come by these days.” Tomlinson graduated from East Carolina University in 2003 with a Bachelor of Science degree in Communication with a minor in Business Administration.

Eddie Jamoldroy Justice, 30

Justice worked as an accountant and lived in downtown Orlando. He loved accessorizing with flashy jewelry and loved making others laugh. Justice’s mother Mina received texts from her son throughout the shooting as he hid in the bathroom. At one point he wrote, “He’s coming. I’m gonna die.”

Darryl Roman Burt II, 29

Burt was a member of the Jacksonville Jaycees, a young professional’s group in Florida. “He was personable, social and easy going,”. “Both socially and professionally he was always interested in making positive impact on people’s lives and in the community.” A hard worker, Burt had recently been recommended for a position on the Jaycee’s Board of Directors.

Deonka Deidra Drayton, 32

Drayton, had been through rough times, a friend tells, but was pulling herself together and was happy living in Orlando.

Anthony Luis Laureano Disla, 25

Disla was a talented dancer, who excelled in a variety of styles including salsa, mambo, tango or ballroom was in Orlando to pursue a career as both a dancer and choreographer. His mother, Olga M. Disla, tells: “He was lovely, kind and respectful of others all the time. He liked to help anyone who needed help.”

Jean Carlos Mendez Perez, 35

Perez, born in Puerto Rico, was obsessed with fitness and loved testing out new fragrances, Agudelo said. He met his longtime partner Luis Daniel Wilson-Leon at the store. Wilson-Leon was also a victim of the shooting. Friend Marisa tells, “Nicest guy you’d ever meet. Both of them, actually. They were magnetic. They’d walk into the room and everyone would turn to look, because they were just so handsome.”

Luis Daniel Wilson-Leon, 37

Wilson-Leon was the manager of a shoe store and longtime love of fellow victim Perez. “They faced the odds, Luis came from Puerto Rico and being gay isn’t totally accepted, obviously here, but it’s not totally accepted there as well,” his cousin Luis Wilson tells. “He is an inspiration. He grew up conflicted but found peace with himself and those around him and he finally had found acceptance and love. Finally found it. And now look.”

Amanda Alvear, 25

Alvear was attending school to be a nurse, and has recently been promoted to the lead pharmacy technician at the pharmacy where she worked, Shannon Marie Baxley, her sister-in-law, tells. “She loved the gay community, the LGBT community. She was straight herself but those were her people, those were her family. She was a magnetic person,” Baxley shares. “She was the loveliest girl, just the sweetest girl.”

Martin Benitez Torres, 33

Longtime friend of Torres, tells that he just had moved to Florida at the end of the last year to continue working for Hertz. He was also studying marketing at Sistema Universitario Ana G Mndez. “He was one of a kind,” she shares. “He was always a person that you could talk to. He was our confidant. He was always surrounded by all of us. We were all women where we used to work, so we used to laugh with him, we used to cry with him. He was a good friend.”

Jerald Arthur Wright, 31

Wright worked in the Magic Kingdom at Walt Disney World. Another person who worked with him added that he was “hard-working” and “loved his job.” “He was one of the first to say hi and make us smile and laugh,”

Cory James Connell, 21

Connell enjoyed playing football and basketball and had dreams of becoming a firefighter. While still in pursuit of that dream, Connell studied at Valencia Community College in Orlando and worked stocking shelves at the Publix in Orlando’s Edgewater neighborhood.

Brenda Lee Marquez McCool, 49

McCool, was battling leukemia when her life was cut short, her niece, Neila Rodriguez, tells. At Pulse with her son Isaiah, McCool was shot in the back and told him to “just run, go.” “She was a cool mom. She was really down-to-earth and open-minded.”

[reading-writing-revolution]

August 3, 2021

Heather Cox Richardson

Aug 4

First, let’s get the obvious out of the way: former president Trump has raised $102 million since he left office, but aside from a recent donation of $100,000 to his chosen candidate in a Texas race which is not yet in the public disclosures (she lost), has spent none of it on anything or anyone but himself. Since January, he has convinced donors to fund his challenge to Biden’s election and to fund Trump-like candidates in the midterm elections. But election filings and a release of donors to the Arizona “audit” show he has not put any money toward either. So far, about $8 million has gone to the former president’s legal fees, while funds have also gone to aides.

The second piece of news that is surprising and yet not surprising is an ABC story revealing that on December 28, 2020, the then-acting pro-Trump head of the civil division of the Department of Justice, Jeffrey Clark, tried to get then–acting attorney general Jeffrey Rosen and acting deputy attorney general Richard Donoghue to sign a letter saying: “The Department of Justice is investigating various irregularities in the 2020 election for President of the United States. The Department will update you as we are able on investigatory progress, but at this time we have identified significant concerns that may have impacted the outcome of the election in multiple States, including the State of Georgia.”

It went on to say, “While the Department of Justice believe[s] the Governor of Georgia should immediately call a special session to consider this important and urgent matter, if he declines to do so, we share with you our view that the Georgia General Assembly has implied authority under the Constitution of the United States to call itself into special session for [t]he limited purpose of considering issues pertaining to the appointment of Presidential Electors.”

The letter then made the point clearer, saying the Georgia legislature could ignore the popular vote and appoint its own presidential electors.

This is classic Trump: try to salt the media with the idea of an “investigation,” and then wait for the following frenzy to convince voters that the election was fraudulent. Such a scheme was at the heart of Trump’s demand that Ukraine president Volodymyr Zelensky announce an investigation into Hunter Biden, and the discrediting of 2016 Democratic candidate Hillary Clinton over an investigation into her use of a private email server.

In this case, Donoghue and Rosen wanted no part of this antidemocratic scheme. Donoghue told Clark that there was no evidence of fraud that would have changed the outcome of the election and wrote: “There is no chance that I would sign this letter or anything remotely like this.” Rosen agreed, saying “I am not prepared to sign such a letter.”

The less obvious story today is the more interesting one.

Trump and his loyalists feed off Americans who have been dispossessed economically since the Reagan revolution that began in 1981 started the massive redistribution of wealth upward. Those disaffected people, slipping away from the secure middle-class life their parents lived, are the natural supporters of authoritarians who assure them their problems come not from the systems leaders have put in place, but rather from Black people, people of color, and feminist women.

President Joe Biden appears to be trying to combat this dangerous dynamic not by trying to peel disaffected Americans away from Trump and his party by arguing against the former president, but by reducing the pressure on those who support him.

A study from the Niskanen Center think tank shows that the expanded Child Tax Credit, which last month began to put up to $300 per child per month into the bank accounts of most U.S. households with children, will primarily benefit rural Americans and will give a disproportionately large relative boost to their local economies. According to the Washington Post’s Greg Sargent, “the...nine states that will gain the most per capita from the expanded child allowance are all red states.”

The White House noted today that the bipartisan infrastructure deal it has pushed so hard not only will bring high-speed internet to every household in the U.S., but also has within it $3.5 billion to reduce energy costs for more than 700,000 low-income households.

Also today, after pressure from progressive Democrats, especially Representative Cori Bush (D-MO), who led a sit-in at the Capitol to call for eviction relief, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention announced that in counties experiencing high levels of community transmission of Covid-19, it is extending until October 3 the federal moratorium on evictions that ended this weekend. It is doing so as a public health measure, but it is also an economic one. It should help about 90% of renters—11 million adults—until the government helps to clear the backlog of payments missed during the pandemic by disbursing more of the $46 billion Congress allocated for that purpose.

Today, the president called out Republican governors who have taken a stand against mask wearing and vaccine mandates even as Covid-19 is burning across the country again. Currently, Florida and Texas account for one third of all new Covid cases in the entire country, and yet their Republican governors, Ron DeSantis and Greg Abbott, are signing legislation to keep Floridians and Texans unmasked and to prevent vaccine mandates. Biden said that he asks “these governors, ‘Please, help.’ But if you aren’t going to help, at least get out of the way of the people who are trying to do the right thing. Use your power to save lives.”

At a Democratic National Committee fundraiser last night, Biden told attendees that Democrats “have to keep making our case,” while Republicans offer “nothing but fear, lies, and broken promises.” “We have to keep cutting through the Republican fog,” he said, “that the government isn't the problem and show that we the people are always the solution.” He continued, “We've got to demonstrate that democracies can work and protect.”

—-

Notes:

https://www.politico.com/news/2021/08/03/trump-spending-millions-gop-candidates-502233

https://www.reuters.com/world/us/trump-backed-candidate-ballot-us-house-runoff-texas-2021-07-27/

https://abcnews.go.com/US/doj-officials-rejected-colleagues-request-intervene-georgias-election/story

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2021/08/02/gop-scamming-rural-trump-voters-continues-new-study-shows-latest/

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/statements-releases/2021/08/03/fact-sheet-top-10-programs-in-the-bipartisan-infrastructure-investment-and-jobs-act-that-you-may-not-have-heard-about/

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/speeches-remarks/2021/08/03/remarks-by-president-biden-on-fighting-the-covid-19-pandemic/

https://www.cdc.gov/media/releases/2021/s0803-cdc-eviction-order.html

https://www.cnbc.com/2021/08/03/cdc-will-extend-the-federal-eviction-moratorium-through-oct-3.html

https://news.yahoo.com/dnc-fundraiser-biden-accuses-gop-123000070.html

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/speeches-remarks/2021/08/02/remarks-by-president-biden-at-a-virtual-fundraising-reception-for-the-democratic-national-committee/

https://www.politico.com/news/2021/08/03/cori-bush-eviction-crisis-502313

Cheryl

Aug 4

Just two things. I live in a rural red county in Virginia. I have always been astounded that folks here predominantly vote Republican against their best interests.

To get votes here, Democrats HAVE to make two things clear. First and foremost - that Democrats are not "coming to take people's guns away." That is the biggest fear out here in red country - the predominant reason folks vote Republican. Gun control is a vote killer and will be until Democrats out maneuver the NRA - and make crystal clear that great-granddaddy's hunting rifle is not at risk.

Second. ALL of the folks here benefiting from social welfare DO NOT associate that money as coming from programs supported by Democrats. That is "my govamint check" - and the government in their minds is Republican. The Democrats must inundate rural areas with advertising that clearly links child care money and internet services with Biden and the Democratic Party in conjunction with exposing Republicans who vote against the bill. Persistent Hard Ball is the only thing that is going to work here.

The former president will continue to “run” for president as long as the money keeps rolling in. Doubtless, as far as he’s concerned, the money is his to do as he pleases. The accounts should be closely monitored by DoJ and charges should be filed for any improper use of the funds.

Just now the thought came to mind that any of the donated funds spent on personal expenses, including legal defense fees, qualifies as income and should be subject to income taxes. Those taxes would be yet more personal expenses that could not be paid from political donations.

The tax man is going to be the one that gets him.

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