#he is being crushed by the weight of the universe someone help him

[drysaladandketchup]

Another loss and Leon is going through it...

EDM vs. NSH || Nov 4, 2023

@mattatouile I saw you wanted this moment gifed so here you go :)

[cottonlemonade]

Mr Steal Your Girl

word count: 1311 || avg. reading time: 6 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Kenma x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, University

warnings: spoilers

synopsis: Kenma tries to ask you out but has awful timing

It was already hard enough to dress for a normal date but finding an outfit for a blind date you didn’t want to go to to begin with was impossible.

Your best friend was annoyed that she couldn’t take you and your chronically single self on any double dates and so decided to take matters into her own hands. At least once every few months she would close her eyes and pick a random guy walking around the campus cafeteria and ask if he was interested in a “cool, funny, smart girl that was just too shy to ask herself” and most of the time that was enough. The date was set, your friend dragged you along and you had a miserable two hours before being allowed to return to your natural habitat - your dorm room.

In her defense, most guys she selected were actually very nice. And except for the last one who had forgotten his wallet, then ate his weight in burgers, let you pay, and had since vanished without a trace or payback, they all knew how to behave. They kept the conversations going, complimented you, and usually asked for a second date, but you liked being alone and besides, dating was stressful. Who needed the whole hassle of getting dressed up and leaving the house? You wanted someone who liked to spend their time indoors, watch movies, play games, build a Lego set or two, snuggle, and snack.

Kenma was convinced that you were perfect for him. Witty, had excellent taste in games and music, and a figure that put every body pillow he ever received as a promo gift to shame. He spent the better part of any lecture twirling his pen in his long fingers and staring at the back of your head, then quickly snapping his eyes the other way, pretending to look intently at the monitor upfront if you happened to turn around during a stretch. He remembered overhearing one of his former classmates once saying that asking someone out was easy, but now that Kenma absently drew a heart with your initials on the side of his notes, he found he didn’t share that sentiment. Partly because he didn’t like to go out in the first place, so how would he convincingly invite someone to something he didn’t even want to go to either?

None of his friends knew about his crush on you and he wasn’t going to admit it to them. Not because he would be embarrassed if they knew, but because he didn’t want to be grouped together with your small and not-so-secret on-campus fan club - a bunch of desperate boys who all wanted a piece of the chubby queen of homebodies. So he denied any allegations that quickening his sluggish steps on the way to the lecture hall to sit in your vicinity, his sleep-deprived heart eyes and doodle-adorned notepads meant anything. Pondering, he tapped the tip of his pen onto the paper, trying to figure out a way to invite you to play games with him, romantically. He wasn‘t going to stoop as low as to ask Kuroo for help and instead took to the wild seas of the internet for advice.

As he scrolled through the many many forums, sifting through mostly bad ideas, he overheard one of your friends say, “It‘s just dinner and a movie. Give him a chance. He is the captain of the swim team after all.“

Kenma‘s heart sank - and then bounced back up immediately when you groaned.

“Look, it‘s sweet and … a little concerning how much you care about my love life, but I‘m not interested in him. Or anyone really. I just prefer to be alone.“

100% understanding and agreeing with you, Kenma chewed the inside of his cheek, thinking if it would come across as weird and creepy if he were to ask you to be alone together.

“But I worry about you.“, the friend pouted.

You laughed and gently put a hand on her shoulder, “Not everyone meets the love of their life at university.“

In truth, you just didn‘t want your friend to know about your ridiculous crush on Kodzuken. Your heart had almost jumped out of your chest when you first spotted the tell-tale half-dyed ponytail in your class and heard the all too familiar voice during a presentation project. It was silly, really, and you did well pushing your infatuation to the very back of your mind.

After all, whenever you tried to catch a glimpse of him he would look away immediately, making it all too clear that wasn‘t interested in a conversation.

It was no use either way. Your friend wouldn‘t stop pushing until you were social for an evening so you chose your usual - well fitted jeans and a thin, long sleeved sweater to keep the cold and any potential bodily contact to a minimum. Your friend waved when she recognized you getting off the bus. She was already waiting in the arms of her boyfriend with a tower of a guy right next to them, who, when seeing who his set-up was going to be, looked a little disappointed. Oh great.

Kenma felt more pathetic by the second. All day he had tried to work up the courage to catch you in a calm minute to ask you out before your date. If it went well with that guy, chances were he wouldn’t ever let you go (if he knew what was best for him), so this was basically his last opportunity ever. When he didn’t manage to ask during class, then neither during lunch, nor in the library he never went to before, and neither at the bus stop, he thought he might as well face the fact that it wasn’t meant to be. But he found himself a few hours later behind you in the queue at the movie theater, he heard you were planning to go to. He would have to ask now before he’d have to buy a ticket. As he politely waited for a lull in the conversation between you and the Iron Man your friend set you up with, Kenma tried to busy himself with a game on his phone to calm his nerves. But he became so engrossed in a level that he missed his chance and could only watch you walk away with your friends. He should just give up. This was ludicrous.

“One ticket to whatever movie they just went to.”, he said before he could stop himself.

Just turn around. Turn around and leave. Come on.

But his feet had other plans. With the overpriced movie stub in hand, he shuffled to the auditorium and searched in the crowd for you. Unfortunately, the first marker he found was the tall guy next to you, talking to your friend and boyfriend, leaving you to sit quietly and awkwardly to the side.

He walked up the steps and your eyes met. Your cheeks blushed, as did his, and with the confidence of a deflated balloon, he came to a halt next to you, hands in his pockets.

“Hey y/n, I’m Kenma. I’m in your business class.”

“I know.”, you said and he was already relieved. First hurdle down. Now, carefully…

“Do you wanna go to a gaming café together?”

“Wha- right now?”

“I mean, yeah, if you don’t have anything else going on.”, he looked past you to the guy who just stared at him in disbelief and added in appeasement of your date, “Nothing personal.”

You exchanged a look with your friend who was just as shocked as the others and she shrugged. You turned back to Kenma.

“Sure thing.”

He held out his hand, then felt silly doing so and was about to lower it when you grabbed it.

“Lead the way.”, you said brightly and he did.

[bunnys-kisses]

Hi Bunny,

I've been following your page for awhile and was wondering if I could order some John Price Lemon slices and beer brownies on the house??

I adore your stories and writing style, and you are in fact someone's girlfriends favorite author 😌

Hope your day is wonderful n thank you ♥︎

bakery menu!

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! i know i've been horribly lacking at call of duty bakery fics! but with call of duty i'll get an idea in my head that is seperate than the bakery fics. i still deeply love my boys (and esp john price), so i'll try to be more on top of the call of duty fics because so many of you have been so sweet with your prompts <3 (also john price would totally love beer brownies just as a dessert, lol)

lemon slice: "i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making." + beer brownies: "stick your tongue out anymore and you'll look like a dog." + on the house (matcha latte: collars/bondage)

cw: smut/pwp, dom!price, sub!reader, dirty talk/degrading language, age gap (20s/40s), wife!reader, wife/domestic kink, carpet sex, oral sex, pet names (puppy, baby girl)

price liked being the man of the house. while most times your relationship was an equal affair. price admired you like flowers did the sun. he'd never hurt his baby girl, even with the age gap that would make some gawk at. a man in his near fifties with a woman who was just out of university. plus, he made her a stay-at-home wife within three months of dating?

there had to be something else going on. even your parents were a little shocked at the news. but neither of you cared, you were happy. and since your parents wouldn't let you move in with such an older man, the only thing to do was to get married. and now every night price got to be the man of the house and have his lovely girl serve him.

after dinner was served you were on your knees in front of him while he watched television. it was hard for him to focus on the game while your nose was nestled against his dark pubic hair. his grip on the can of beer was tight, any tighter and he'd crush the thing in his palm.

he was so much bigger than you, stronger than you. there was a weight to him that could leave you pinned under him. he was so strong and masculine that you couldn't help yourself but be enthralled by him. you continued to pleasure him orally, but occasionally you made small noises which was accompanied by your thighs rubbing together.

"i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making." he said as he took you by the head of the head and made you look at him. you panted heavily and looked at him with a lustful expression across your features. poor little wifey got too excited.

price chuckled and patted your cheek a roughly, "stick your tongue out anymore and you'll look like a dog." he laughed a little, "maybe i should get the collar out, since you like being my puppy so badly." you whined in response and price pulled away to tuck himself back in his jeans. when he got up, he looked down at you and said, "you stay put, i don't need you getting in trouble, baby girl." then left for the bedroom.

you waited patiently and felt heat curl in your gut. you liked price like this, domineering. when he used his age, height, size against you. when he made you feel small in the best ways. when he returned you could see the green collar in his hands.

it wasn't a neon green, but rather a rich forest green. you swallowed and shifted a little in your spot. when he sat down on the couch with a 'huff' he patted his thigh so you'd climb onto his lap. you did without question and he placed the pretty collar around your neck. then his hand was on your bare thigh, he got to see you naked up close. after dinner you stripped down to give your husband dessert.

"pretty little thing." he said, his voice hot. you squirmed a little at his hands on you. on between your legs and the other supporting your back. he made a vow to love and protect you. even when you panted heavily from his touches.

his calloused fingertips grazed across your wet cunt and he dipped his head against your neck where he laid kisses across the heated skin.

"john."

"i got ya, sweetheart. my little pet." he teased your clit a little and you shuddered. he pulled you closer to him and teased your clit a little more before he said, "get on your hands and knees, beautiful. your mouth isn't enough tonight."

you scurried off, you were naked save for the ankle socks with little bows on them and the pretty green collar. you got onto the carpet and rested your face against your arms with your hips raised. price took one last swig of his beer before he got up and rubbed himself through his jeans. you looked at your husband, coyly, "like this?"

"i've trained you so well." he said as got down on the carpet. while a this age, it was hard to do it on the floor. but, he knew it was either that or up against the couch. the latter would only cause more pain in price's bad knee.

"thank you." you blushed, heat rose in your cheeks as you felt his pointer and middle finger touch your achy cunt again. your back arched. then you heard the clatter of his belt being fully taken off.

"this is how a wife should greet her husband every night. give him a fully belly and you walk away with a full cunt. ya like when i make a mess of her, don't ya?" he watched your back arch from his words. he got his cock out of his jeans and rubbed the slick head up against your pussy, "been missin' her. had to finish myself off in the washroom at work because i was thinkin' about it."

price hated to admit it, but he loved the differences between you two. he kept his pretty wife happy at home, and maybe soon you'd have some company with a pet or a baby. price wasn't getting any younger, about time he used the last of his swimmers for something good.

he pushed his cock into you with ease and watched your tense up. it was really hot. in his honest opinion, you looked beyond beautiful. he was glad he got a ring on you as soon as he did because if anyone else tried to get their hands on you. that would be a problem. you whimpered and clawed into the cream carpet.

you knew your knees were going to be raw by the time your husband was done with you. but, you'd happily accept it regardless.

his pace was steady, on the faster side but every thrust had a force that made your toes curled. you loved your big, hairy husband. you adored how he made you feel, how he could easily move and twist you to his liking. he was dominant and strong, he never wanted his wife to worry.

"that's a good girl, my good little puppy. hearin' your little noises right now." he groaned, "you're a beautiful little thing. you know exactly how to get me goin'. lettin' my fuck you until you see stars." his pace picked up and you gasped into the floor.

"john." you arched your back. your body craved your husband. more than most else. you were never a party girl, but even if you were, your drug of choice would be having your husband, the cervix bully, make you cum time and time again.

it was slightly price's fault why you never went to parties. when he was home from deployment, he wanted to savour every moment with you. hard to go out with friends on a friday when price had you in a full nelson on his bed with his cock hitting just the right places. price didn't need boys sniffing around what was his. not that you'd give them the time of day. he held onto your hips tightly and pushed you further into the carpet as his cock dragged against your softest areas.

he said, "so pretty under me. you take me so well." you could feel your heartbeat in the back of your head as he continued to push up right against you. the feeling was erotic, as were the sounds of your sweet moans, "pretty in your collar. maybe i should've just gotten you a collar instead of a ring. a nice leash as well to make sure that you didn't go runnin' off. be a proper pup for me." he groaned as he continued to fuck you.

his motor mouth made heat wash over you. it was hot in a way that made you want to cry out for more. poor mrs. price, must be such a shame to get fucked into a state of bliss by your domineering, stronger husband.

it wasn't long before you could feel the sparks in your brain as you panted heavily against the carpet. your knees were rubbed raw as were your forearms. thankfully not carpet burn on your face (this time). you panted heavily before you let out a sweet noise, your attempt to tell your lover you were cumming. your cunt tightened around his cock, which only spurred your husband to move faster.

"that's it, that's my baby girl." he groaned as he rammed his cock as fast as he could. he could hear your soft, post-orgasm moans. your back arched a little more before they dropped. which meant price had to hold onto them to get at the right angle of your pussy, "my good little wife."

a few more heavy thrusts and price finished inside of you. trusting you to keep the boys safe.he gripped onto your hips and really pushed into you as he tensed up. he then relaxed and felt his heart hammering in his chest as he slowly pulled out.

a string of cum connected his cock to your pussy. really a match made in heavy. he licked his lips before he slowly got up with a bit of help from the coffee table. he wasn't the spry young man that he used to be. but you loved that about him, your burly old man.

not that you'd say that to him.

your hips dropped as you laid on the floor for a moment. achy and feeling euphoric at the same time. it was cute in price's eyes, after he got his cock back into his jeans once more. he picked up his wife and held you in his arms. he kissed your heated cheeks while you wrapped a leg around his waist for support.

"i got ya, baby girl. now let's get the wife to bed before i get hungry again." he knew you were on another planet right now. you held onto your husband tightly until he tucked you naked into bed, with the covers pulled up to your chin.

"what about the dinner dishes?" you asked.

price patted your cheek, "don't worry about them, beautiful. i can handle them." then let you rest with the familiar collar around your throat. <3

[rispwr]

If i were you i'd do me - JK - MDNI - 1

pairingsfuckboy! jk x fem! reader, established relationship, mentions of smart! namjoon x oc, slow burn

contents/warnings rich! oc, fuckboy! jk, rich! jk, slight love triangle

taglist> comment if yall wanna be added

contextJungkook, the notorious campus heartbreaker and player, unexpectedly becomes your groupmate alongside Namjoon, the guy you’ve secretly admired for ages. However, it seems your feelings have started shifting from Namjoon to someone else entirely unexpected…

two or three part series

The lecture hall buzzed with low murmurs and the shuffling of papers as students settled into their seats. I sat quietly, tapping my pen against the edge of my notebook, my thoughts drifting in and out as I half-listened to the professor’s voice at the front of the room. My mind kept wandering, anticipating who I would be grouped with for this project. Please, please let it be Namjoon.

Namjoon had been my quiet crush since the first day of university. He was everything you’d want in a guy: smart, kind, and effortlessly hot. The kind of guy who always knew the answer to the professor’s most complicated questions, who smiled in that soft, unassuming way that made you feel like you were the only person in the room. It didn’t help that he had these deep dimples that appeared whenever he smiled, making my heart race just a little faster each time I saw them.

But as the professor continued to rattle off group assignments, I was growing more nervous. He hadn’t mentioned my name yet, and that gnawing anxiety at the pit of my stomach told me I wasn’t going to get lucky.

“And next,” Professor Lee announced, glancing at the list on his clipboard. “Y/N, you’ll be partnered with Jeon Jungkook.”

The room seemed to freeze for a moment. My eyes widened in disbelief, and a heavy weight dropped in my chest. No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening.

I glanced to my left where Jungkook sat, his usual cocky grin plastered across his annoyingly handsome face. He caught my eye and, as if on cue, that grin widened into a playful smirk. My fingers tightened around the pen in my hand, nearly snapping it in two. Of all the people on this campus, I had to be grouped with him.

Jungkook was notorious around the university for being a player. His reputation for breaking hearts and leaving a trail of jilted girls behind him was almost as well-known as his stupidly good looks. Muscular build, sharp jawline, tattooed arm—it was no wonder girls threw themselves at him. But I wasn’t interested. In fact, I despised him. He was always teasing me, always pushing my buttons in the worst ways possible. We couldn’t be more different.

And yet, fate—or Professor Lee—had thrown us together for this project.

I could already feel the irritation bubbling up in me as I forced myself to break eye contact with Jungkook, turning my attention back to the professor, hoping against hope for something—anything—that would make this less of a nightmare.

“And Namjoon,” Professor Lee continued, reading the next name on his list. “You’ll be in the same group as well.”

For a moment, I blinked, my brain taking a second to catch up. Wait—what?

I couldn’t help the tiny smile that tugged at my lips. Namjoon. Namjoon was in my group. Maybe this wasn’t going to be such a disaster after all.

I glanced over at Namjoon, who was sitting a couple of rows ahead of me. He turned in his seat, meeting my eyes, and gave me that warm, dimpled smile that never failed to make my heart skip a beat. I smiled back, feeling a tiny spark of hope. Maybe Jungkook’s presence wouldn’t be so unbearable if Namjoon was around.

Still, the fact that I had to work with Jungkook was an annoyance I couldn’t shake. As the class continued and Professor Lee finished the assignments, I couldn’t help but shoot a glare in Jungkook’s direction. He, of course, was still smirking at me, clearly enjoying the fact that this was bothering me.

Once the professor dismissed the class, I packed up my things slowly, waiting for Namjoon to come over. I didn’t want to seem too eager, but my heart was already beating faster at the thought of spending time with him.

“Hey, Y/N,” Namjoon said as he approached, his voice soft and warm. “I’m really sorry, but I’m not free to meet today. I’ve got some meetings and a lot on my plate.”

My smile faltered, but I quickly masked it with a nod. “That’s okay! We can always work on it later this week.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Namjoon said, flashing me that kind smile again before turning to leave. I watched him go, feeling a slight pang of disappointment. I’d been looking forward to spending more time with him, but at least we’d have other days.

As Namjoon left the room, I turned back to gather my things, fully expecting to leave right after. But then I noticed that the room had grown strangely quiet. Too quiet. Everyone else had left, except for one person.

Jungkook.

I looked up, and there he was, still sitting at his desk, his eyes locked on me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. For a moment, we just stared at each other in silence. I tried to ignore the flutter of nervous energy building in my stomach.

Without warning, Jungkook stood up and began walking toward me with slow, deliberate steps. My pulse quickened. There was something about the way he moved, something almost predatory, that made my breath catch in my throat.

I forced myself to stand my ground, even as he came closer, his presence almost suffocating in its intensity. When he stopped just inches away from me, I found myself pressed back against the wall without even realizing it. My heart was pounding in my chest now, and I could feel a flush rising to my cheeks.

“What do you want, Jungkook?” I asked, trying to sound as indifferent as possible, though my voice came out shakier than I’d like.

Jungkook tilted his head slightly, his gaze never leaving mine. His lips curved into that maddeningly cocky smile I hated so much, the one that made it seem like he knew exactly what I was thinking.

“What’s wrong, Y/N? Not happy about being paired with me?” His voice was low, teasing, but there was an edge to it that I couldn’t quite place.

I glared at him, trying to keep my cool despite the sudden closeness of his body to mine. “You know exactly why I’m not happy.”

He chuckled, and the sound sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. “Why do you always assume the worst of me?”

“Maybe because you act like a player, Jungkook.”

The smile on his face faltered just slightly, but only for a brief second before it was back again, even more infuriating than before. “If you think I’m going to fuck you like I do with the others, you’re wrong.” He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered, “Though, I have to admit… you’re already thinking about me, aren’t you?”

My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, I couldn’t speak. The audacity of him. I hated how he was getting under my skin, how my body was reacting even though my mind was screaming at me to push him away.

“You’ve been fucking me with your eyes all day, Jeon,” I shot back, trying to regain some control over the situation, though my voice betrayed me.

He let out a low chuckle, his hand coming up to gently brush a strand of hair behind my ear. The touch was soft, intimate, and it sent a ripple of heat through me. “Hm, bratty. I like that,” he muttered, his voice laced with amusement.

Jungkook’s gaze dropped to my lips for a moment before meeting my eyes again, and his next words sent a shockwave of tension through the room. “One day, Y/N. One day.”

I clenched my jaw, trying to suppress the rush of emotions flooding through me. “You wish,” I muttered, pushing past him, my heart racing as I left the room.

But even as I walked away, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of his gaze lingering on me, and the dangerous promise hanging in the air between us.

I had barely drifted off to sleep when the sharp buzz of my phone jolted me awake. I groaned, blinking at the clock. It was 2 a.m. Who could possibly be texting me at this hour?

Reaching over to grab my phone, I squinted at the screen. Of course.

it's jungkook

The morning sun filtered through the campus as I made my way toward class, still fuming from Jungkook’s obnoxious texts the night before. I hadn't replied after his last message, but it had taken everything in me to resist throwing my phone across the room. I couldn’t afford any more distractions today—I had to focus on this group project.

After class, I sent a message to both Namjoon and Jungkook, asking them to meet me at the library. They both replied with a quick "yes," but I couldn't shake the feeling that this was not gonna go well

The library was a sea of activity, but our corner was a bubble of escalating tension. Namjoon and I had been discussing some preliminary ideas when Jungkook strolled in, his usual confident swagger in full display. He slid into the chair next to me with a grin that made me feel both anxious and irritated.

“Morning, everyone,” Jungkook said, looking around the table. He glanced at Namjoon with a challenge in his eyes before turning his attention to me. “Let’s get this project rolling.”

Namjoon’s expression shifted subtly from polite to guarded. “Morning, Jungkook. We were just about to outline our approach. We thought starting with a structured plan would be best.”

Jungkook smirked. “Structured plan? Sounds like a surefire way to kill any chance of creativity. Why don’t we start by brainstorming some wild ideas and see where that takes us?”

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed. “Brainstorming is great, but if we just dive in without a plan, we’ll end up with a mess. You need structure to keep things on track. Or are you just trying to avoid putting in the actual work?”

Jungkook leaned back, crossing his arms. “Avoiding work? That’s rich coming from you. Your idea of structure is basically setting up a boring checklist. Creativity doesn’t fit into a neat little box.”

Namjoon scoffed. “And your approach is just to throw ideas at the wall and see what sticks? That’s not exactly groundbreaking. It’s like hoping for a miracle instead of actually planning for success.”

I felt my frustration bubbling up as their argument intensified. They were clearly not going to back down, and their petty comments were only making things worse.

Jungkook’s tone was mocking. “Oh, right. Because your idea is so much better. Let’s just stick to the same old formula and hope for a pat on the back. How original.”

Namjoon shot back with equal disdain. “Better than relying on vague, half-baked ideas that have no real direction. At least with structure, we can ensure everything’s covered. But I guess you wouldn’t understand that because you’re too busy chasing after girls."

Their barbed comments continued to fly, and I could see their tempers rising. The petty back-and-forth was not only unproductive but also frustrating. I needed to step in before things got out of hand.

“Enough!” I said, my voice cutting through their argument. “This is a fucking group project, not a battleground for your egos. I’m tired of listening to you two trash each other’s ideas. We need to find a way to work together, not tear each other down.”

Jungkook and Namjoon looked at me, surprised by my outburst. Jungkook’s smirk had faded, replaced by a look of frustration, while Namjoon’s expression softened into a more serious one.

“I get that you both have strong opinions,” I continued, “but this constant fighting isn’t helping us. We need to find a middle ground and actually get something done.”

Namjoon nodded, though his frustration was still evident. “Alright. We can start with a basic outline and then use brainstorming to refine our ideas. But we need to work together and stop comparing our approaches in a negative way.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, but he agreed. “Fine. We’ll try to blend the ideas. But let’s not pretend that sticking to a rigid structure is the only way to succeed.”

With a sigh, I turned my attention to the project, hoping that their petty arguments would finally subside. The atmosphere was tense, but we needed to focus on making progress.

As we began to work, Jungkook and Namjoon continued to exchange glances, but the competitive edge had softened, if only slightly. The project started to come together, despite the earlier conflict. Their combined skills and knowledge were proving valuable, even if the process had been rocky.

The tension between them didn’t disappear completely, but the focus shifted back to the project. I hoped that, with time, we could find a way to collaborate more effectively and leave the petty arguments behind. For now, though, I was just relieved that we were making some progress.

As the afternoon wore on, we finally wrapped up our work on the project. The tension had eased somewhat, and while Jungkook and Namjoon were still exchanging occasional glances, the project was moving in the right direction. I packed up my things, exhausted and ready to collapse on my bed.

As I was about to leave, both Jungkook and Namjoon approached me at the same time. Their expressions were hopeful, clearly looking for a way to end the day on a positive note.

"Hey, Y/N," Jungkook said, flashing a charming smile. "How about we grab dinner together? I know this great new place nearby."

Namjoon chimed in almost simultaneously. "Actually, Y/N, I was thinking we could go out for dinner too. It'd be nice to unwind and talk more about the project."

I sighed, feeling the exhaustion hit me hard. The last thing I wanted was to deal with more socializing, especially given how the day had gone. I just wanted to go home, eat something simple, and crash.

"Thanks, but I'm really not up for it," I said, trying to keep my tone as polite as possible despite my irritation. "I'm tired and just want to head home."

Jungkook's smile faltered slightly. "Come on, Y/N. It'll be fun. We can relax and enjoy ourselves."

Namjoon, noticing Jungkook's persistence, added, "Yeah, it'll be a good break from all the work. Plus, we can discuss the project more informally."

I looked at both of them, feeling a surge of frustration. Their attitudes today had been less than stellar, and I was fed up with their petty arguing. I shook my head, turning on my heel and heading towards the exit.

"I'm really not interested," I said over my shoulder. "You two figure it out yourselves."

As I walked away, I could hear Jungkook and Namjoon start to bicker. Their voices carried through the library, each of them blaming the other for my refusal.

"See what you did?" Jungkook's voice was laced with annoyance. "You pushed her away with your rigid attitude. She was already pissed off before you even said anything."

Namjoon shot back, his tone sharp. "My attitude? You're the one who couldn't stop acting like a fuckboy all day. Maybe if you had been a little more respectful, things wouldn't have ended up this way."

Jungkook's eyes flashed with anger. "Oh, that's rich coming from you. At least I'm not some nerd who can't get out of his own head. You think you're so superior with your so-called 'structure' and 'organization.'"

Namjoon's face reddened. "Better to be a 'nerd' than a shallow idiot who only knows how to fuck his way through life. Maybe if you took things more seriously, you wouldn't be in this mess."

The argument escalated quickly, with Jungkook and Namjoon exchanging heated insults. I could hear them accusing each other of ruining the evening, each blaming the other for my decision to leave. Their pettiness was almost comical, but I had no intention of sticking around to watch their drama unfold.

I finally made it home, the familiar comfort of my apartment offering a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the day. I dropped my bag by the door and headed straight for my room, craving the solace of my bed. To my surprise, I found Hoseok, my best friend, lounging on my bed with a relaxed grin on his face.

“Hoseok? What are you doing here?” I asked, my frustration from the day still bubbling beneath the surface.

Hoseok looked up, his smile widening. “Surprise! I thought I’d drop by and hang out. actually your mom called me to hang out with her. we ended up shopping and getting spa today. but anyways why do u look sad? want me to cheer you up?”

I sank onto the edge of my bed, letting out a heavy sigh. “Cheer me up? I think I need to vent first. You have no idea how frustrating today was.”

Hoseok sat up, giving me his full attention. “Alright, let it out. What happened?”

I started pacing the room, my frustration pouring out in a torrent. “It’s Jungkook. He’s been driving me insane. The guy’s a total fuckboy, and he’s so full of himself. I can’t stand how he just ignores everything and acts like he’s the only one who knows what’s best. And then Namjoon—he’s been acting so stuck up too, but at least he’s not as infuriating as Jungkook. I just wish Jungkook would disappear.”

Hoseok listened intently, nodding sympathetically. “You know what they say? The more you hate, the more you love.”

I stopped mid-sentence, turning to him with a look of confusion. “What? Are you serious right now? I like Namjoon. Jungkook is the last person I’d ever want to be involved with.”

Hoseok raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eye. “Then why is Jungkook the only one you talk about? It sounds to me like he’s really getting under your skin.”

I threw my hands up in exasperation. “Because he’s impossible! He’s always around, always stirring up trouble. I’m just so done with him.”

Hoseok chuckled, leaning back against the pillows. “It’s funny how the people we argue with the most are often the ones who matter to us the most. You and Jungkook seem to have this weird dynamic. Maybe it’s not just hatred.”

I shook my head, still trying to make sense of Hoseok’s words. “I don’t know, Hoseok. I just want things to be simple. I don’t want to be tangled up in all this mess. Namjoon’s straightforward, and I can actually see a future with him.”

Hoseok’s expression softened, and he gave me a reassuring smile. “I get it. It’s easier to focus on the people who seem like they’re a better fit, like Namjoon. But sometimes, those people who challenge us and push our buttons are the ones who end up being more significant than we realize.”

I sat down next to Hoseok, feeling a bit more grounded. “I guess you have a point. It’s just hard to deal with all this drama. I need some space from Jungkook and just want to focus on what makes me happy.”

Hoseok reached over and patted my shoulder. “Well, I’m here for you. If you need to vent or just hang out and not think about any of this, I’m your guy. We can order some takeout, watch a movie, and just talk shit i don't know.”

I smiled, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. “That sounds good. Thanks for being here, Hoseok. I really needed this.”

[circeyoru]

Collection of Overlords _ Part 12 = Requested

[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 1.5 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 — Part 9  — Part 10 — Part 11 — Part 12 (here)

Call you cruel, call you sadistic, call you evil, call you a tease. You are, after all, The Cursed Entity, the symbol of all things demonic. As much as you may appear to be harmless and passive, it was all a facade for souls to let down their guard like how a hunter would pounce on an unsuspecting prey

Overlords are unique Sinners, set apart from the other doomed souls that arrive in Hell after their timely or untimely death on Earth. A Sinner’s power stem from a few things or circumstances

It could be something related to their career when living, like a gravedigger would control soil or bones. It could be something related to an element they love or hate, like a person who loves the sea would have control over water. It could also be something related to their biggest crime or sin, like a thief would have telekinese

The possibility was endless and hard to tell. But one’s appearance was a tell-tale sign, a window to what kind of person or demon they are. Take Zestial as an example, cloaked from head to toe, there was seemingly nothing that could hint at what kind of demon he was, but it’s exactly that that tells you he’s a mysterious being and reserved, not prone to action and would weight his options

Another example. Velvette. Her appearance always changes, from hair style to her clothing, she was one of the rarer demons that would do that. Like her ever-changing appearance, her base, meaning her body, never changes. It shows that she changes her surroundings to make herself fit in rather than herself. Her core self is stable and knows what to do to make herself station

Your Overlord picks were something you’ve observed from the biggest hints to the littlest, you never really needed to see their past life during their living years when you knew what made a Sinner a Sinner

Steadily, you moved the original Hellborns living in Pride to other Rings and gave Lucifer and Lilith dominion over that Ring so there won’t be as much conflict. But because you knew there was a different between the Sinners, you also knew they aren’t prone to follow orders. You gave a test to Sinners when more and more arrived

Different from Hellborns, Sinners will have the unique and universal power to make and enter deals of their own kind. Sinners that enter into the deal will be making their own terms and agreements without a third party unless they are to be involved and consented

When such a power was revealed, the stronger Sinners got to work, using their overwhelming power to crush weaker Sinner into their submission. This process helped you differentiate the plain Sinner from potential Overlord candidates when you were still on the fence with the whole new ranking system

It was after letting Lucifer and Lilith know about the whole Overlord project did you start to look for some Overlords to take under your wing. As exciting as it sounds, it was one headache after another, you lost count of the would-be Overlords you shoved into your Cages

Until Zestial came along and wanted to be at your services. A demon of knowledge and elegance was your first impression of him. He wasn’t ashamed to be under someone, rather he saw it as an honour to be under someone as great and cruel as you. Quite the flatterer, not that it displeases you

You have to give credit where it’s due since Zestial had a big hand in your Overlord project early days. It was him who recommended Carmilla and informed you of Rosie, two more obedient and favourable Overlord candidates you quickly took a liking too

Then came Zeezi, a formidable Sinner of violence and strength, displayed in her appearance and actions. Through her, you saw the joy in beating a Sinner into your ideal Overlord. It was the success of it all that made you continue this routine, but there were also times when you got bored and didn’t mold your new Overlords into space which resulted in their expulsion

“Husk is no longer fit to be among the ranks of Overlord.” You announced to the others while atop your throne with the others seated around you at the table. You played with the pendant that was Husk’s in your fingers before black flames burned it and you threw it into the air, your Cages all fought to devour it. “Do as you see fit.”

Now how should you deal with Vox?

Velvette was smart and keen enough to at least look for help among your favoured Overlords, but Vox… Vox was so smart that he went to Princess of Hell. Truly smart beyond words. It’s moment like these that you question why and how he got Alastor to see him as a good enough candidate for you to consider

Honestly… How talented was Vox that he got Alastor’s attention and praise?

It irked you how Vox held Alastor’s attention for that long to the point you wanted to crush him immediately the moment you offered him a place. However, as one could plainly see now, you never did

The question you have now was how to make use of Vox. Should you revive him like you have done with Velvette or discard him like the trash he is?

Choking and cricket noises pulled you out of your thoughts as you looked forward at Vox in a sorry state. Zestial being indifferent to the entire situation, well, deep down he was entertained, you’re sure. Great minds think alike after all. You snapped your fingers and released him from your subconscious torture. This is what happens when you get too immersed in your thoughts

“I’ll be frank.” You spoke, uncaring of how Vox was still self-repairing from his ordeal. “Your little group is down a member, said member is building her own forces to lead and I gave her full support.” Your eyes opened as you glared down at him, “So don’t go pestering my new star.”

Vox felt the pressure from your words, his TV screen of a head bowing, “O- Of course…”

You hummed, your eyes closed again making the intention in the air return normal. “Alright, you can go now. Zestial will see you out since this is your firs time at the hotel.”

Just as Zestial was making his way to Vox, he panicked and hastily questioned, “Wait! What’s going to happen? Velvette’s gone, we aren’t the Vees. Is Valentino and I going to…?”

“I wonder.” You can’t help but play around with your words, a smirk form while you taunted, “Guess it’ll be the 2Vs now.” At Vox’s silence, you decided to offer some form of mercy. With a glitch in your form, you suddenly appeared before Vox’s face, your form towering over his. “Tell me honestly, can you even afford to worry for others when your place within my collection is like a sand castle at the beach?” Your head tilted, “Oh so close to the waved of the ocean, ready to be. Washed. Away. Into. Nothingness.”

Vox’s knees gave out as he buckled down, “I… I…”

You scoffed, turning away to return to your seat, “Broken items are thrown away, Vox, no one wants to keep something that lost its value.” Your fingers snapped, eight cards flew around around, “You have been keen on keeping information to yourself, especially against Velvette and Valentino, it shows your superiority towards them.” Two cards burned to nothing while one card flew to remain hovering in front of Vox, the rest remained by your side. “But you’ve forgotten as an Overlord, who you’re supposed to show your talents and skill to.”

The card in front of Vox burned to nothing, now he was able to view your indifferent expression and Zestial standing faithfully by your side with his cheshire grin. His claws balled into fists, his digital jaw clenched, and his form shook. “So I don’t qualify as an Overlord…” A twisted smile spread on his face, “Ha… Haha… Hahahhahahahahhahahaahahahaaa! Ha! Hahahahaha!!”

Zestial glared over to you while you turned your head to his direction as if sharing a glance. When a grin grew on your face, Zestial bowed formally and dramatically. “Giveth me some timeth, mine own liege (Give me some time, My Liege.)”

Within your room of souls, both loud and silent cries and pleads did nothing to earn your attention. Cages flew from one area to another, devouring and festing on bodies of defiant subjects that shown you disrespect. All while you sat behind your desk in your throne, a quill pen in your hand to scribble over cards of different colours, but all share the singular pattern and symbol 

The moment you were done, a murder of Cages flew to your side and you attached each with a card put into an envelope. You patted their heads with a command to delivery your words to their target. With their orders received they flapped their wings and flew up until they were gone from sight

You strolled and made your way to your round tables, stopping by at the one for Pride Ring. A satisfied smile graced your face. Familiar patches of colours covering all of territories. Your Overlords have completed their work and the time has come for the grandest of events

“The time has come!”

“The time has come!”

“It’s here!”

Your commanded Cages all found their targets and cried out to announce their presence. Then your intended receivers all realized what they were given and the weight of it all

Rosie didn’t need to open the window as a Cage flew through it and hovered in front of her with its wings flawing to remain in the air. Rosie reached out both of her hands to receive the envelope with pride and a wide smile

Zeezi flinched at the sudden appearance of the Cage, quickly composing herself before she took the envelope to see what was inside. Her eyes narrowed at the words written, she quickly pocketed it and started to bark orders to her followers to prepare

Carmilla, Zestial, and Vox all paused in their activity as three Cages came to them, each having one flying in front of them with a visible envelope of acception. Vox gulped as he glanced to his two seniors who nodded and he took his with a bow at the Cage that was delivering on your behalf. Zestial and Carmilla received theirs without issues, but both shared a look of acknowledgement 

Velvette halted the rehearsal when a Cage appeared by her side. She took the envelope carefully as if it was made of glass and read through the contents. Her eyes widened as she couldn’t believe her eyes, she immediately got up and cancelled everything in her schedule. Priorities 

Alastor placed his tea cup down, his eyes lit up with interest at the sight of a Cage perched on his shoulder. He scratched its feathers with a claw while retrieving the envelope, he opened it with a claw and read through the card. He hummed and looked over to where Husk was, seeing a familiar scene of a Cage handing Husk an envelope as well

Husk punched away an overbearing tailor, his scowl ceased when the familiar creature whom he recalled as a ‘Cage’ flew to him and show him an envelope of high quality. A chill run down his spine as he figured the time has come, he read through the card and gulped, it really has come. He turned his head to Alastor who’s smile widened

Valentino threw another glass at the wall, creating another mess inside the room. His screams and roars going unheard and uncared for, evident of the destruction within the room and the unkept appearance of the moth demon. The Cage avoided another thrown object, letting go of the envelope so that he splatted on his face, he growled and snatched it open. His eyes narrowed and blinked. Great. Another meeting

Note: This series is coming to an end~~ Soon, I think a few more parts then an epilogue. Thanks for people that's still keeping up with this series! It's not going to be dropped! Promise!! Anyways, your thoughts on this one?

Circe Y. 

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

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[deliciousangelfestival]

Let Me Love You | 1 - B. Barnes

Character: college!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary: On a mysterious, rainy night, Bucky witnesses a distressing encounter involving his crush.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8.

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

Fast-food restaurants are always the quick choice for exhausted students after learning a lesson.

Today, WHAM Burger near St. Louis University is bustling with customers, mostly college students from the university. The aroma of sizzling burgers and the familiar hum of conversations fill the air.

Inside the restaurant, everyone stands in line at the cashier or fiddles with the self-order machine. Even the drive-thru is buzzing with activity. Most cars have to wait, but for Bucky, who is behind the wheel, the wait is inconsequential. However, his friends, Steve and Sam, seem less patient.

“Their double cheeseburgers are delicious. But eating them three times a week? I'm going to hate my favorite food, Bucky,” Steve remarks from the back seat.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “There are other choices, like salads.”

Sam laughs, fingers dancing on his phone screen. “You'd have to put a gun to Steve's head if you want him to eat a salad.”

Bucky chuckles, his eyes focused on the road. Sam and Steve sigh, observing their friend who has become a love fool. Almost every week, they find themselves at this fast-food haven. There's a particular reason Bucky insists on coming here.

Finally, their car inches forward to the cashier's window. Bucky rolls down the window and is greeted by a familiar face.

“Welcome to WHAM Burger. Oh, hi, guys!” Your bright voice cuts through the air, and the trio of friends can't help but smile.

“Hi, Y/N,” Sam and Steve chime in, well aware that Bucky becomes speechless when he sees you.

You flash them a genuine smile, recognizing the familiar faces. Your fingers swiftly input their usual order. “You guys just got back from the chess club?”

Bucky nods, attempting to say more but finding his words stuck. He never anticipated becoming a lovefool, but he fell for you the first time he laid eyes on you.

It was on a snowy day when Bucky first saw you. A girl, squatting down to rescue a stray cat. That quiet moment led to him forgetting his chess tournament appointment, instead accompanying you to the nearby shelter.

You, a stranger in the area, had just landed a part-time job at the fast-food joint. Bucky admired your selflessness and love for animals. Even though you couldn't adopt the cat, he assured you someone would. In gratitude, you treated him to hot chocolate, and in that instant, Bucky fell in love.

However, his friends later shattered his newfound joy, revealing that you had a boyfriend, the quarterback, Lloyd Hansen, and that you were childhood sweethearts.

Back in the present, your cheerful voice snaps Bucky out of his reminiscence. “Thank you so much. Please come again.”

“Yes, yes, I will,” Bucky mumbles, grabbing the card from your hand. The slight touch sends a jolt through him, and he can't help feeling like a creep.

As Bucky drives away from the drive-thru, Sam and Steve enjoy their fries, teasing Bucky about moving on.

“Dude, you need to move on. If not, both of us are going to gain weight,” Steve says, munching on his cheeseburger.

Bucky rolls his eyes. "I didn't invite you." Despite not being explicitly invited, the three always go home together since they live in the same apartment building, and WHAM Burger is conveniently on the way.

Bucky huffs, but he can't stay mad at them. After all, they've been his closest friends since high school. Despite their advice, he can't fathom why his feelings for you continue to grow. If there's a love cupid, Bucky can't help but blame it, as the cupid seems to have misfired its arrow onto the wrong target.

In the rearview mirror, Sam and Steve exchange knowing glances, silently hoping their friend will soon find a way to move on from his unrequited love.

Reader P.O.V

“Shit… shit.” You blame yourself for not bringing an umbrella with you, even though since the morning, you noticed the clouds had a dark color.

You protect the food bag to make sure it doesn't get wet. You had just finished your shift when your boyfriend, Lloyd, texted you to bring food to his practice.

Lloyd and you have been together since childhood, crowned as king and queen at prom night. Everyone says that both of you are a sweet couple.

Lloyd got a full scholarship for his athletics and is studying law. Meanwhile, you received half a scholarship. St. Louis is a prestigious university with famous alumni.

It has been your dream to study here, and you also want to stay with Lloyd. However, growing up, you learned to be responsible on your own, managing your own money and working.

Between studies, clubs, and part-time jobs, you and Lloyd used to be close, but now, it's getting difficult to meet. Lloyd has become busy with practices and interviews since he brought a championship to the university.

But you want to make this relationship work.

When the bus stops in front of the university, you have to run to the university gym.

You sprint as fast as you can despite the heavy rain.

Lloyd is lifting weights when he sees you soaking wet. He grabs a towel and dries your hair. “Thanks, babe. You came all the way here.”

You reply, “It's alright.”

“Has the food arrived?” A female voice is heard from behind you.

You turn around and see a girl with perfect hair, wearing a training outfit that accentuates her body curves.

You glance down at yourself still wearing your work uniform and a jacket.

Lloyd says, “Yup. Here you go,” as he hands the food bag to Nicky. She's the daughter of the university football sponsor. Lloyd have mentioned her name a few times. But everytime you hear her name, you don't feel secure.

You clench your fist, watching their interaction. Lloyd gives Nicky the food you brought with effort through this heavy rain, and Nicky shows a shy smile towards him.

Your heart sinks as you catch the subtle exchange of glances between them. The smile that Lloyd reserves for you is now being shared with someone else. It feels like a stab in the chest, a betrayal you didn't see coming.

Lloyd looks at you. “Could you wait for a while? We will go back together.”

You put on a fake smile that you've mastered at work. “No, it's alright. I came here with an Uber car. The driver is waiting for me.” You lied; your phone battery had already died.

Lloyd nods. “Alright, text me when you've arrived.”

“Okay.”

You turn and walk faster to avoid the eyes of the bystanders. You don’t want your effort to be judged.

When you get out from the building, the rain is still pouring heavily. You grit your teeth. Is this your unluckiest day?

You run faster to the bus stop while crying.

“Y/N.”

You think your ears have mistaken you. With this heavy rain, you hear someone call your name.

It's impossible.

“Y/N!”

The voice becomes clearer. You turn around and see the silhouette getting closer. He comes running while holding an umbrella.

“Bucky?”

Bucky was just walking out from the library. He was in the chess club when he saw you running from the university gym. He wonders what the heck you are doing alone in this heavy rain.

When he sees your eyes red and your nose, it seems like you've just cried. The same happened when he found out you had a boyfriend; his eyes and nose were red too.

And he sees you coming out of the gym; that means the cause is related to Lloyd.

But now he can't let you be like this. He gives you his umbrella and runs back to the library.

You are stunned while holding the umbrella. Bucky suddenly appears, giving you the umbrella, and runs away.

You try to catch up with him, but he runs too fast. You can only shout, “Bucky, thank you!”

Tomorrow, you have to say thank you to Bucky. At least today, someone cared for you. You feel gratitude and confusion at the rain-soaked bus stop. Bucky's unexpected act of kindness adds another layer to your swirling emotions.

The next day, when you went to find Bucky, he wasn't in class. Both of you studied business.

Steve told you, "Bucky got a fever, so he stayed at home." You felt guilty when you heard that because the reason why he got sick is because of last night; he gave you his umbrella.

You asked Steve, "Can I visit him?" Steve couldn't believe what he just heard, but if you came to visit Bucky, perhaps his fever would be gone in a second. "Sure, I'll give you the address," he said, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

You nodded appreciatively, saying, "Thank you," with a sincere smile.

‘Cough, cough.’

Bucky poured water into a glass. He had a fever and a sore throat because of the rain last night. The relentless downpour seemed to echo the storm within him, a storm fueled by the regret of not bringing you home with his car. He couldn't shake the thought that if he had, perhaps he wouldn't be in this sickly state.

‘Knock. Knock.’

He opened the door, never expecting to find you standing there. You held a steaming bowl of hot soup in your hands. “Bucky, I’m sorry. Because of me, you got sick.”

Bucky shyly answered, the lines of worry etched on his face. It wouldn't matter if he had to cross a sea of fire; he would do it for you. “No, it’s not because of you.” He grabbed the food you brought, appreciating the warmth it brought, both physically and emotionally. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”

You shook your head, a genuine smile gracing your face. “You really helped me last night. Thank you.”

Feeling restless and vulnerable in his weakened state, Bucky looked at you nervously and said, “I have something to tell you.”

Author Note:

Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!

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[joelmillers-whore]

Hard Light | Chapter 1

summary: when a new english professor begins teaching your class for the duration of your semester, you can’t help but develop an innocent crush on him. he’s as off-limits as he can be, but that doesn’t deter you in the slightest. after a drunk night, you accidentally email him something that wasn’t intended to ever be seen by anyone. but that doesn’t matter. it triggers a misunderstanding that manifests into an affair with your professor who is twenty years your senior. nothing good could come of this, right? 

pairings: professor!joel x college student!reader

word count: 2.2K

series or one-shot

warnings: 18+ explicit, minors DNI, no mention of Y/N, alternate universe, professor/student relationship, eventual smut, self-esteem issues, workaholic, joel x female!reader, infatuation bordering on obsession (stay delulu friends), some sexual thoughts, masturbation (f), joel being a huge tease lol, (will add more tags as i write)

AN: i am so excited by the response that my joel one-shot got a few days ago and i’ve been itching to get something else out to you all. big, giant forehead kisses for those who want one, i love you all. so, anyway, a mini-series about professor joel is coming at you fast. i’ve written the first few chapters, so expect those in the near future. i’m thinking once a week? this fic is going to be something else and i’m so excited to share it with ya’ll. enjoy, and let me know what you think. find my ao3 here for more content and other fandoms.

You were running late for your shift at the coffee shop on campus, rummaging around your dresser, trying to find the low-cut black top you always wore when you had a shift. You weren’t usually one to feed into the peer pressure of those around you, but push came to shove when you found it nearly impossible to keep yourself afloat as a twenty-something student without the added extra tips from your part-time job.

So what if you had to show a little bit of cleavage? Right? There was no harm. Student loans were a bitch and on top of rent and food costs, you had to get a job at the coffee shop and balance a full course load just to make ends meet. 

A thought popped into your head and you rushed to your laptop, throwing it open as you checked the time; 5:45 AM. If you busted out your lightning-fast typing skills, you would have enough time to catch the next bus and make it to campus with five minutes to spare. If only your crappy second-hand computer would work.

The thing honestly sounded like a chopper engine, getting ready for lift-off. You were surprised you’d gotten this far with it. Not that you weren’t appreciative, your older brother had passed it down and it had relieved a huge weight—  and expense off of your shoulders. 

You tabbed into your school portal, typing in your credentials and selecting your English course. You sighed heavily, as you skimmed over the assignment for this week, something to do with a sonnet that you couldn’t care less about. You loved school but ever since becoming an English major, the spark that you once had for literature sort of just evaporated.

You couldn’t tell if it was because of how busy you were with everything else that you just couldn’t find the time to enjoy it, or the thought that really scared you, you had fallen out of love with it. 

It had been two years of go, go, go and you were, for lack of a better word, burnt out. You’d tried dropping courses last semester, thinking that you just needed a little bit of ease when it came to your course load, but when that didn’t solve the problem and only made things worse for you, you spent the last two semesters trying to catch up and get yourself to a place where you could finally breathe.

But it wasn’t easy. You were only now caught up to where you had been, the illusion that you were someone who could afford to take time off and slow down was a distant memory. 

In bold letters, the words Paid Internship jumped off of the screen. You smiled as you leaned in closer to the screen, making sure you read through everything correctly. This was the break above the surface that you needed, the reprieve that you had been chasing. A paid internship was exactly how you’d be able to make more money and maybe have a little breathing room before you worked yourself into an early grave.

You clicked the mail icon at the top and clicked into a new email, deciding that the worst-case scenario was that you wouldn’t get the internship. All you were doing was inquiring about the application process. Best-case scenario; you’d get it and make some extra pocket money. 

You saw the time, cursing under your breath as you slammed the laptop closed, grabbed your phone out of the charger and ran out of the door. You couldn’t be late, not again. You texted your co-worker Jeremy to open the shop without you and explained to him that you were running a few minutes late, as you barely made it to the bus. You climbed on board, scanned your student pass and found a seat near the back. Your chest was burning from the rush of trying to make it on time, but you could breathe easy now.

You checked your messages mindlessly, scrolling through a bunch of unread ones that you didn’t have the heart to answer. 

Before you knew it, the familiar monuments and buildings of UT Austin came into view, and the subtle change of scenery from downtown to a more densely packed area made your heart skip a beat. It was the same each time you were back on campus. Which, these days, was often. Sliding out of the seat, you made your way to the front, thanking the driver as the bus came to a complete stop. 

The coffee shop was only a short walk from the bus stop but even still you quickened your pace. You didn't want to leave Jeremy alone for long, you already felt bad enough about letting him open by himself. You stifled a yawn as you pushed open the door to the small cafe, leaning your body into the door, slightly cringing at the shrill sound of the bell. 

"There you are", a male voice called, making your head snap up. You wiggled your nose, the familiar timbre of your ex-boyfriend's voice ringing in your ears. "It's about time you got your ass down here". 

You snickered, shrugging your heavy bag off of your shoulder, and dropping it behind the counter, turning around and greeting him with an unamused smirk.

Jeremy and you had gone out for a few months last year, it was your first and, as of right now, the only short-term relationship that you'd had in college. 

Dating your co-worker, even in a relatively small place like the coffee shop on campus, almost always spelled trouble, but Jeremy was not the type to hold something like a failed relationship over your head. He understood that school was a priority for you and making a living for yourself came first, even above something like a relationship. It might not be the healthiest way to live, but it was how it always was. 

Jeremy and you had developed a fast friendship, one that went beyond the romantic relationship that you'd had last year. You parted amicably and now, you had someone you could confide in, someone you could trust. 

"Why don't you say that to my face?", you teased, raising a brow at him over the milk frother you were setting up. 

Jeremy threw his rag down and stalked over to you. "You're snippy this morning", he chided. 

You banged into his shoulder playfully, "Doesn't help that I have to see your ugly mug first thing in the morning". 

You snorted out a laugh and Jeremy looked at you, feigning defensiveness, "Ouch", he paused, returning back to his post near the coffee machine, "Remind me how we ever went out?". 

You scrunched your nose and threw your rag at Jeremy, hitting him square in the face with it, "That was rude". 

He shrugged his shoulder, "You started it".  

You both devolved into a fit of giggles and fell into a comfortable silence, setting up and getting the coffee shop ready for the day. You had a half-day shift to look forward to and then you had class until the late afternoon. The days were long and the nights were longer.

You usually found yourself nose-deep in your textbooks, more often than not, or some classic novel that was required for class, not moving from the couch until your eyes were red and you were seeing double. 

Only then did you retire to sleep, crashing hard until you had to wake up and do it all again the next day. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The coffee shop had been bustling with people since six in the morning, and at one in the afternoon, it hadn't let up, only now you had to go to class. Waving Jeremy goodbye, you sidestepped Tara, the fourth-year who was covering the rest of the afternoon and closing shift. 

You'd crossed the far side of campus, passing by the science building and one of the massive libraries that had acted like a second home to you back when you’d been studying for exams when you were a freshman. You could thank your obnoxious roommates for that one. 

Entering the lecture hall, bodies pressed into you as you weaved through the growing crowd, trying to find a spot in the middle where you could see and hear your English professor. But also blend in with the masses. As if the universe had other plans in mind, and everyone suddenly showed up to the Tuesday lecture all at the same time, you found yourself picking a seat near the front, an exasperated groan leaving you. 

You hated sitting at the front, not because you didn't want to get called on to answer something or because you didn't know the answers, but because you did. You wanted to get through your four years as quickly and unscathed as possible and if people knew, mainly professors, that you knew more about the subject matter than you needed to, you'd surely get called on more often, making you stick out in ways you didn't want. 

It was a terrible curse, going through life with the self-esteem that you did. But it was how you were raised. Blend in. Don't be too loud. Be quiet and only observe. Nerves rapped at your insides when you thought about getting called on when class started. Your heart rate ticked up and you found that your hands were beginning to get clammy, your throat constricting with each breath.

You rubbed your hands up and down your thighs, grounding yourself with the sensation of the material. 

With a jump, you sat up straighter in your seat, being jostled from your thoughts by a loud slam. You snapped your head toward the entrance, eying the person who had startled everyone. It was a man carrying a briefcase.

Your lips tilted up at the edges, amusement tickling you when you thought of anyone using a briefcase nowadays. But here this man was, head down as he made his way to the front of the room, toward the desk. 

You couldn't help keeping your eyes trained on him. On how his slacks tightened around his butt, moulding to the shape and curve of it. You bit your bottom lip out of reflex, your eyes dragging down the length of the mystery man who had crashed your lecture. Maybe he was a TA? Your brows furrowed when you thought about how your professor was nowhere in sight. 

The man with the briefcase placed his case on the desk, turning to face the audience of students who blinked back at him, who now settled down enough to hear him speak. Air caught in your throat when his eyes flicked momentarily to you, and lingered on you for half a second longer than you'd expected. He had massive, warm brown eyes, and soft wrinkles that danced at the edges of his eyes when he smiled, making him seem more boyish than he appeared.

He looked older than a TA would but then again, who were you to judge someone's position in life? You thought that his age did nothing to undermine just how attractive he was, if anything it added to it.  

The man, who may or may not have been moonlighting as your English TA cleared his throat, nodding his head, "My name is Joel, well, Professor Miller to most, but 've always been a little bit more informal than my peers". 

He began to circle the wooden desk nervously, his large hand finding the edge of it and stroking it far more sensually than necessary. You flexed your fingers, gripping the arm of your seat to stabilize yourself. "So, you can call me Joel from here on out... since we'll be seeing more of each other from now on". 

Murmurs began to break out around the lecture hall, and confused and hushed whispers followed. 

Professor Miller— Joel, mumbled something incoherent, and you were unable to hear it from where you sat. He cleared his throat again, "Professor McCarthy has taken a leave of absence, so I'll be filling in for him for the remainder of the semester". 

You crossed your legs, feeling heat rise and a furious blush break out across your face, and shuffled in your seat, a loud creak emitted from it and you stilled, praying that the loud sound had only been heard by you and no one else. But when you lifted your gaze, Joel's eyes were already locked on you, blown and brimming with cautious inquiry. A touch of a smirk graced his lips. 

"And I look forward to getting to know each and every one of you, personally". His eyes were still on you, not ready to release you from their hold. 

His tongue darted out to wet his lips and you couldn't help but stare. You had every reason to look away from him, he was your professor and given the clear age difference, he was someone who was off limits. But when he didn't look away from you either, trapping you with his gaze, your face heated up, suddenly aware that he was purposely staring at you. 

You swallowed thickly, heart hammering as Joel's eyes finally drifted away from you and back to the faces of your classmates. He continued on with addressing the class, and you noticed that he avoided your eyes for the rest of the lecture. 

Only one thought rang through your mind as you tried and failed to focus back on the lecture. This was going to be one long semester. 

[pascaloverx]

NO LIGHT

SUMMARY: Your life is simple. You are a pastry chef who has just opened a bakery near your home. A new life, being a new person. But when James Barnes shows up at your bakery injured, asking you to offer him shelter, your life takes a sudden turn.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The characters in this fanfiction are not my creation and all belong to the Marvel universe. This story will feature scenes of violence, brief intense intimate moments, and inappropriate language. To the readers, I’d like to ask for your engagement with this chapter. I’m still deciding whether we’ll soon say goodbye to this fanfic or if I should continue it, and your opinion would be very important.

SEVEN

EIGHT

That day, Steve managed to politely rid you of your mother and her homicidal husband. Alexander Pierce had probed several times about your relationship with Steve Rogers, as if seeking confirmation that it was genuine. His suspicion was palpable. Your mother, on the other hand, only asked about Steve when inquiring about his earnings. Steve remained remarkably patient with her. Fortunately, a week after being stabbed, you were discharged from the hospital. Your stepfather even covered the hospital bill for you, which you begrudgingly admitted was fair—considering it was his fault you got stabbed in the first place.

"You know you didn’t have to do this, right?" you ask Steve, your voice soft as he carries you in his arms like a child. Embarrassed, your face is almost buried in his neck as he walks through the hospital parking lot.

Steve chuckled softly, his grip secure as he carried you, his steps steady despite your discomfort. "I know," he replied, his voice warm and reassuring, "but I couldn't let you walk all the way to the car in your condition."

You could feel his heartbeat beneath your cheek, steady and comforting, as if it was the only thing grounding you in that moment. His words lingered for a moment, the weight of the simple gesture settling in your chest. "Besides," he added, his voice dropping slightly, "I’m just making sure you’re safe. It’s the least I can do after everything."

"Having you carry me in your muscular arms won't keep me safe, Rogers. My mother's husband sent someone to stab me to send a message to Barnes. I don't feel safe at all right now. I don't even know who to trust or where to go. My mother knows where I live; she could show up with her villain husband, or he could send someone there, and I don't know anything about self-defense." Yes, all the idle time in the hospital, you could only think about how you were getting closer to death. All because you couldn’t resist your delicious crush.

Steve lets out a sigh, as if exhausted just from hearing you. Then he gently sets you down, as if trying to figure out what to say. "Calm down, Y/N," Steve murmurs, lightly touching your face. His touch is truly comforting, making your eyes briefly close. "You’re not going to like what I’m about to say, but we have a plan," Steve says as he opens the passenger door for you to get into the car. You’re confused, but you carefully enter the car. Steve helps you with your seatbelt before closing the door for you.

The scent of a perfume enters your nostrils, and it’s neither yours nor Steve’s. Then you realize what that means: Bucky must be hiding in the car. You try to open the door, but it's locked—Steve is probably making sure there’s nothing dangerous around. "Don't do anything stupid," Barnes’ voice echoes through the car.

"How could I do something stupid when you steal all the stupidity for yourself?" you murmur, not knowing if there are cameras in the parking lot.

Steve enters the car before Barnes can offer any response to your remark. Without warning, he leans in and kisses you. It’s a simple, discreet kiss, yet entirely unexpected. His lips linger on yours for a moment, the world narrowing to just the two of you. Then, the sound of Barnes clearing his throat from his hiding spot in the backseat shatters the moment.

"There are two men watching the car. They’ll probably keep their eyes on us until they’re sure Bucky isn’t here. James Buchanan Barnes, stay hidden no matter what," Steve says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. Then, turning his attention to you, he adds, "Y/N, don’t turn around or look at Barnes unless you want to ruin everything. We’ll have to act like a couple until we get to my house." You compose yourself as Steve waits for confirmation of your cooperation. Straightening up, you lift your face towards him and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Barnes visibly irritated by the display.

“Let’s just get to your house, Rogers,” you say, playing along. You and Steve move as though you’re deeply in love, your actions convincing to any onlookers. Steve smirks, clearly amused by your attempt to provoke Barnes. In silence, the three of you make your way to Steve's house, the atmosphere in the car heavy with unspoken tension. The men who had been watching you at the hospital followed at a distance, though they eventually dropped off. When Steve pulls into his garage, you feel a wave of uncertainty about what to do next.

“I’m going to check inside and make sure everything’s safe. You two stay here,” Steve says, though his tone suggests he’s more eager to escape the suffocating atmosphere than genuinely worried about anyone’s safety. You take a deep breath, trying to suppress your growing irritation, focusing on staying calm as Steve exits the car.

“Using Steve to get to me won’t get us anywhere…” Barnes says from the back seat, his tone sharp as he shifts, sitting with his legs spread on the rear bench. You turn to look at him, irritation flashing in your eyes.

“You can’t lecture me about using others when you’ve been using me to get to my mother’s husband, Barnes. Actually, if you could just not say anything, that would be a favor,” you snap, your anger simmering as you leap to conclusions, fueled by the long hours of reflection during your hospital stay. Barnes narrows his eyes but doesn’t immediately respond, clearly weighing his words. The tension between you feels like it could ignite at any moment.

"Do I not even deserve the benefit of the doubt? Or is it easier for you to just hate me without reason?" Bucky asks, leaning closer to you. You can feel his warm breath against the back of your neck, but you stubbornly keep your gaze fixed forward, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Alright, tell me, Barnes. Tell me how you just coincidentally became a regular at my bakery while secretly involving yourself with my stepfather's affairs? Explain to me how you were likely on some mission all this time without ever showing it? And for what reason did someone stab me—to send you a damn message?" The words spill out of you, heavy with emotion. You've had a week to dwell on how your own naivety landed you in this mess, and the frustration in your voice is impossible to contain.

"Damn it, I can’t reveal things that would jeopardize everything I’ve fought for up until now. But I can promise you this—you’re not just another assignment to me. What we have is real, Y/N," Barnes says, his voice laden with sincerity, before pressing a soft kiss to your neck as if it could ease the tension between you. The warmth of his lips against your skin sends a shiver down your spine, but even that isn’t enough to erase the storm of doubt and anger swirling within you.

"I am far from pleased with what is happening right now. So let me make this clear: do whatever you need to ensure your little secret mission is a success. Use me, lie to me, do as you please. But beyond being a pawn in this twisted game between you and Alexander Pierce, I will be nothing else. If there was any chance of us having a relationship, it drowned days ago." You unfasten your seatbelt and turn to face Barnes, an act that feels like the worst possible decision as soon as you meet his gaze. His eyes, darker than before, seem to devour you entirely, pulling you into their intensity.

"You had your lips on my best friend just minutes ago to get under my skin, doll," Barnes says, his voice low and rough. "What we have is very much alive—you know it."

"You sound like a damn fool," you snap, almost biting Bucky. His smile appears, likely amused by your irritation, and then, to your surprise, he holds your face in his hands and plants a soft kiss on your lips.

"I won't give up on you, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself I'm the bad guy. I just need you to trust me, a little longer," he says, his lips still lightly brushing against yours.

"It will be a waste of your time if you insist on me because I don’t trust you, and I certainly won’t be returning any affection toward you anymore," you say, trying to convince yourself of this more than you truly feel. But honestly, you cannot allow Barnes to hold so much power over you.

"I don't need your affection, doll," Barnes says, then turns your face to the side, leaning close to your ear to whisper, "I need your desire, something much more intense than affection." You turn to face him, and he places his fingers under your lips, almost as if provoking you. However, you bite his fingers—not deeply enough to hurt, but enough to show him that you won't be vulnerable with him.

Steve appears before you and Bucky can continue this cat-and-mouse game. Even though Bucky’s expression after you bit his fingers was more of excitement than anger, Steve knocks on the car window and gestures for you both to get out. "Come on," Steve says impatiently, before walking into his house. You and Bucky get out of the car almost simultaneously, and as Bucky walks past you to circle the car and head into Steve’s house, his body brushes against yours. It feels like electricity sparks between you two. His eyes are on you.

“We’re not done here, just so you know,” he says, and you can’t tell if it's a threat or a promise. You smile back and respond, “Don’t fool yourself, Barnes; there’s nothing left here.”

He smiles as if he’s plotting something, but then in silence, you both walk into Steve's house, one after the other. Steve, who had been sitting, waiting for you to enter through the back door by the garage, stands up and helps you make your way to the living room, gently placing you on the couch. “You look tired. If you want, you can sleep in my room later,” Steve says, caressing your face gently. You nod in acknowledgment, giving a quiet confirmation.

"Should I give the couple some privacy?" Barnes asks after clearing his throat, looking at you and Steve with a judgmental expression.

"You should," both you and Steve respond in unison, and then share a laugh. Bucky's face tightens, his expression darkening.

“If you two have finished acting like children, let’s get to the matter at hand,” Steve says, his voice growing more serious as he leans forward, his posture tense. "We need to deal with Alexander Pierce before he manages to end us all. By now, I’m certain he’s already figured out that we’re involved with one another in some way. But you and I, Y/N, are still going to keep up the charade of being a couple, at least for now. There’s that charity ball your mother’s hosting, Y/N, where she invited us both. It’s the perfect opportunity to corner Pierce and force him to admit to all the awful things he’s done.” Steve’s words hang in the air, and for a moment, everything feels surreal. You look at him, your mind struggling to process the plan he’s suggesting. The idea of working alongside Bucky to confront your mother’s husband feels like something straight out of a nightmare.

“We’re going to kill him,” Bucky says without hesitation, his voice cold and final. He stands by the wall, his arms crossed, his eyes dark with determination. Your heart skips a beat, and you feel the weight of his words settle heavily over you. You and Steve exchange a look, one full of disbelief and concern. This wasn’t the path you had envisioned—this wasn’t the way to go about things.

“No!” you exclaim, your voice sharp with panic. The thought of resorting to murder, of becoming involved in something so dark, fills you with dread. "We can’t just kill him!” Bucky looks at you, his expression firm but understanding. He knows how deeply this situation affects you, knows that this is more than just a matter of strategy. But he also knows what’s at stake.

"I warned you it would be a bad idea to involve your girlfriend in this plan, Barnes," you are surprised by Natasha's entrance as she leans against the door while exchanging glances with Barnes. You feel a bit of jealousy and discomfort but turn on the couch to face Natasha.

"She’s been involved from the start, and you know that," Barnes says, looking seriously at Natasha before exchanging glances with you. It’s as if he’s trying to check something. "I have to agree with Bucky on this one. Without Y/N, it would be much more difficult to get close to Pierce without drawing attention. And it's completely natural for a civilian not to want to kill her own stepfather," Steve defends you while everyone looks at each other.

As the tense atmosphere in Rogers' living room intensifies, you realize you don't have much say in the matter. Sighing in frustration, you finally speak up, "Do what you think is best. Kill my mother’s husband, don't kill him. I don’t care. All I want is to go back to being a normal person. Which makes me the cliché of this action movie we're involved in. That being said, I’ll cooperate with whatever plan you have," you say, trying to sound as firm as possible.

Barnes looks at you as if he wants to embrace or comfort you, but instead, he straightens up, still leaning against the wall, his eyes fixed on you. "So the plan is simple. Natasha and I will set up an ambush for Pierce, while Steve and Y/N pretend to be a couple for everyone," Barnes says, his voice tinged with some discomfort. You look at him, unsure of what the discomfort in his tone means.

"Then let our plan begin," Steve says, his eyes fixed on Barnes, a heavy tension hanging between them. "Just to be clear, once we deal with Alexander Pierce, you’ll uphold your end of the bargain."

"Of course," Barnes replies with conviction, his voice steady. "As soon as I have Pierce, you’ll be free to take me into custody, Agent Rogers." You’re caught off guard by his words, your surprise evident as you look between the two men.

[shares-a-vest]

@flufftober Spring Edition Day 7: Giving someone a present

wc: 886 | Rated: T for Canon-Typical swearing, some suggestive language | cw: None

Tags: Pre-Birthday, Eddie Munson is a Menace, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Cuddling, Spoiling Presents, Wayne Munson Takes a Pottery Class (it's only a throwaway line, but it's a headcanon I have rotting my brain rn)

Note: I just want to shout out the lovely comment @withacapitalp left on my ficlet from yesterday. It definitely influenced today's fic, as Steve reflects on the life he has in this AU. Thank youuu so much Liam for recognising an underlying theme/nuance in this universe.

‘The Best Present of All’

“What’s got you all giddy?” Steve asks, watching Eddie practically strut across their bedroom as he heads for his side of the bed.

He looks ridiculous – like a headbanging, scruffy chicken. Eddie pauses by the side of the bed and rips off his loose, cut-off Black Sabbath shirt. He hurls it halfway across the room, the discarded almost-terrycloth fluttering to the floor as he jumps on the bed and lounges across Steve’s legs.

“It’s your birthday tomorrow, precious,” he coos, rolling awkwardly on his back and grimacing.

He brushes it off as if Steve doesn’t know the telltale signs of his partner twinging his back – never one to exactly take it easy after almost dying in the Spring of 1986. Eddie puffs out a breath to blow hair from his face and giggles.

“I bought you the best present,” he continues, looking at the ceiling.

“That so?” Steve teases, knowing all too well that whatever said material item is, it will be nothing compared to the mischief Eddie surely has cooked up.

And Steve is going to love every minute of it. He loves every birthday he gets to have with Eddie by his side – and that’s something that can’t be bought.

Eddie turns his head and grins.

“I’m going to gift-give so hard,” he quips, scrunching his nose and clenching his jaw.

Steve supposes it is meant to come off, well... seductive, or something – but Eddie simply looks like an utter lovesick dork with those glee-filled eyes peeking out from under his unruly bangs.

“Did you help Joanie with something, at least?” Steve chuckles.

“Of course,” Eddie says, tenting his fingers together, “Prepare for a macaroni-encrusted card and the wobbliest, most unusable coffee mug in human existence.”

“Wow,” he laughs and swipes at his partner with his pillow. Eddie splutters away, spitting like a cranky kitten as Steve chides, “You cannot keep a secret.”

“I blame Wayne for the mug idea.”

“Stop making fun.”

He tugs on Eddie’s bare arm – if he has the man shirtless in bed, he at least wants to cuddle (and stop his legs from being crushed). Eddie goes limp, forcing Steve to all but pull his dead weight upright and into his arms, mussing and twisting their oft-abused bedding into a crumple – the blue patterned lines now a wavy swish.

“But the old man is taking a goddamn pottery class like he’s Demi fucking Moore,” Eddie cackles into his chest.

Steve shushes him and presses a kiss to the top of his head just to be safe. He holds Eddie close, breathing in the smell of fruity shampoo. Feeling the warmth of his skin against his own – the touch of flesh under his fingers.

He shifts on the spot and bites his lip.

“Eds?”

“Mmmhmm?” Eddie hums and Steve can feel his mischievous smirk.

“Since you’re spoiling presents…” he wonders aloud, removing his hand from his partner’s shoulder so he can attempt to flick back the blankets, “What if I got one of my presents now?”

Eddie untangles himself and bolts upright, scrambling with the bedding instead.

“Thought you’d never ask, sweetheart.”

They make quick work of slipping under the covers, righting their bedding as much as possible – even if it all somehow ends up on a forty-five-degree angle in their haste. But once they get settled, all cozy and warm and impossibly close as they roll into each other’s embrace on instinct, Steve feels his heart skip a beat.

“Eddie…” he whispers, letting his partner’s name linger on his tongue.

“Yeah?” Eddie whispers back, his big brown eyes glistening from the reflection of the light on the nightstand.

Steve shuffles closer, closing the already tiny gap between them and loops his arms around Eddie’s middle. He simply holds his partner for a moment, looking into those beautiful eyes – watching as Eddie breathes in and out and blinks. He leans in and presses a kiss to his lips, clinging to Eddie tight as he begins to kiss back. It deepens almost instantly and Steve hums, stifling a gasp as tears begin to prickle up.

Over the years, he has turned into a total sap, the waterworks turning on so easily sometimes that it worries him.

But he just feels so much – so much love – with his family. With their silly cats, first in Chicago in their tiny apartment, then in their slightly bigger but nonetheless cramped apartment and now in their home. A four-bedroom house with plenty of room to live and build. A house with a yard, a garden and a garage big enough for Eddie to jam with Freak on weekends.

The best gift life could have given him.

He used to be scared that he’d be stuck in Hawkins forever, working for his father and trying to please his mother all the while failing and remaining lonely.

But all that changed with Eddie. Even if it first started during that awful Spring Break back when he thought they might not even survive long enough to see where things could go.

“I love you,” he whispers when they break apart and come up for air, “Love you and Joanie so much.”

“I love you too, Stevie,” Eddie says, wiping a stray tear from his cheek, “Happy birthday.”

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of both Worlds (part 1)

Tw: yandere oc guy, but i dont think this chapter shown that yet, but readers a fuckin stalker loser this time, university horrors

Okay guys so this story im literally pitting Yves and Montgomery together, gonna be a little slow burn but we r gonna get 2 da conflict like eventually

Also da settting in university cuase its da most relevant 2 me 💯

Enjouy

PART 2

He's so beautiful and ethereal. The man has been plaguing your mind for the entire week, you're being distracted from your assignments just because of this unbelievably gorgeous man with silky, long hair and dressed to the tens.

You grinded your teeth and scratched your skin, you know where he frequents. The university's library. And you obviously want to get closer to him after he caught you from falling. You slipped on a sheet of paper that you dropped and this mysterious stranger was there to catch you by the waist before your body could make any devastating impact. Unfortunately, your stacks of textbooks and other miscellaneous documents were scattered to the ground.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice was smooth and pleasant with a unique, suave accent to it.

You were reduced to a nervous, stuttery mess. He gently brought you back up to your feet, he helped you gather your things and even arranged it by size and weight, so that it would be less likely for it to topple over. The man took a further step to smoothen the frizzles of your hair, fix your collar and sleeves. He even zipped your backpack up, you were unaware that it was open in the first place, adding to your embarrassment. You couldn't really push him away because your arms are occupied with your belongings.

It was hard to look into those stunning emerald eyes without flustering yourself even further, so you looked away while you stammered a "thanks" to him.

"Be careful." He said as he tilted your head by the chin to make direct eye contact. You know that you're as red as a tomato, but he didn't comment on it. The man lets you go before walking away, he fixed the handles of his luxury bag on his shoulder. Luscious curls bouncing with every step.

You felt like you wanted to explode right there and then, it took you a while to regain composure, other university personnel wondering why you're just standing in the middle of the path like that. Aren't you tired of holding all that stuff? It looked heavy.

You were snapped back into your senses when someone who you assumed had a bad day, told you to get out of the way. You scurried along the traffic, having the incident fresh in your mind.

You wonder who that man is, a student? A professor? A staff member?

You came to know that he's in the library for a few hours every weekday afternoons. He doesn't have a particular spot, the mystique spontaneously appears in random but fairly secluded reading spots in the library.

You felt like a stalker, but that's what you are. Too shy and afraid to talk to him, yet content with watching from afar. His ears are covered by his hair, so you don't know if he had any earbuds in. Fuelling your hesitance to make any contact first.

He could be reading a thick novel, handwriting something down on his notebook, or he could be typing away on his sleek, black laptop. In either instances, you have no idea what he's doing, it's either in a foreign language, full of numbers or completely made up of technical jargon.

You don't know why you're doing this instead of studying for your midterms. You're never like this to any of your crushes, not this obsessive over a real person, so why now? What compelled you to become this... creep? It's like you can't stop. You're scared of rejection but you can't get rid of the butterflies in your stomach.

You had no one to talk to about it because university is a very lonely place. At least, for personality types like you. You didn't want to bother your other friends, they have their own problems to worry about.

It reaches a point that you tried following him out of the library, wondering where he will go next. Before you could step past the automatic sliding doors, you looked at the book in your hand.

'Wait a minute, this is fucked up.' You thought to yourself. This isn't like you, exams are in spitting distance and you're subjecting this poor person to this harassment just because of a singular interaction.

You made a 180⁰ turn and marched back to your all-time favourite seat. Which happened to be occupied by the stranger earlier, maybe that made you a little peeved because you "claimed" it first at the start of the year. But he took it for the day.

To your surprise, there lies his notebook on the ground. He must have accidentally left it. You picked it up and looked around to make sure the coast was clear, then you flipped through it.

You were blasted with numericals, diagrams, words you weren't sure if it was written in English or otherwise and even floorplans of a building of some sort. You couldn't understand anything.

"Excuse me."

You whipped your head to the whisper. It was him! Your blood ran cold as he caught you snooping through his item. You opened your mouth, but no sound came out.

You struggled to form a coherent sentence as you pointed at it, you're done for, you're going to be confirmed a creep. But he only watched you with the utmost patience.

There came a point where you gave up, placed the closed book on the table and pushed it towards him.

Luckily though, you didn't have to say another word.

"You found my notebook. How careless of me to have dropped it." He pulled a chair opposite of you and sat down. You watch him place his handbag on another chair.

He elegantly picked the journal up and slid it into his bag. You were sweating at this point, the dread is about to make you vomit on him and that's not great. You wished that he would go away now, but seeing that he's locked onto his seat, it's highly unlikely.

You prayed hard for it though, he finished his business for the day. There shouldn't be any reason for him to linger.

"Thank you for keeping it safe. I hope you found whatever it is you were seeking from me." He continued, crossing his legs and resting his hands on the table.

What.

You asked what he meant by that.

A teasing smile made its way to his rouge lips.

"You were watching me." You grew pale and you scrambled to explain yourself, but he raised his index finger to signal you to let him continue.

"Your tact could be improved upon; I could see you trying to hide behind the shelves, I could hear you mumbling to yourself, and you shouldn't think so lowly of yourself." He propped his head up on one elbow.

Your cheeks felt hot. That is true, you were berating yourself for being too wimpy to go ahead and talk to him. You just didn't think you were that loud.

"I would have enjoyed having a chat with you. I wouldn't have thought that you were-- and in your own words, a 'creepy, loser-freak'."

Oh. He heard that too. You wish that you could disappear this instant.

"I'm flattered that you thought highly of me. However, I was disappointed that you thought that I was intimidating." He pouted playfully. "I won't bite." He twirls a lock of his hair around his fingers.

Your nerves are frazzled as he leans in. You didn't know what to say or what to do. He seemingly picks up on that and continues leading the conversation.

"Let's start with names. Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine." You felt his shoe brush against your leg.

You almost forgot your own name as you watch the bead of sweat drip down your nose in horror. He must think you're a stinky slob.

But all he does is stare straight into your soul while drumming his fingers against the table.

You told him your name, with a severe stutter. Each passing second felt like a serrated knife slicing through your flesh.

He repeated it, syllables rolling through his tongue wonderfully. He pronounced it correctly on the first try despite your cripplingly anxious enunciation.

"Yves." He replied. Finally, you have his name. You're totally not going to use that to dig for more information on him.

"You have a beautiful name." He complimented.

You nervously returned the compliment and let out an awkward laugh. Trying your best to ignore the growing sweat stain between your pits.

"How charming of you, (name)." He stood up and pushed his chair back under the table. Yves collected his bag and turned his attention back to you.

"I'd love to talk longer, but I must go now. I believe you have an exam to prepare for. Best begin your revision now, I hope our brief conversation has helped to quell your worries."

...and you mumbled that part about yourself too. It's pretty safe to assume he heard all your thoughts.

Yves extended a manicured hand to you. Taking this as a clear request for a handshake, you accepted it.

Only for him to bring it up to his lips, tenderly and fleetingly kissing your knuckles. This entire time, his piercing gaze never left your eyes.

You wanted to claw yourself out of your flesh and die out of embarrassment.

"Study well."

He lets your hand down and presses it momentarily with his larger ones.

You watched him saunter away with his back turned against you.

You brought the back of your palm to your sight.

There is a faint, reddish tint on it. It must have been from his lipstick.

You're not sure if you ever want to wash your hand after this.

[oddinary4bts]

The Forgotten Spaces | ch 3 (jjk)

☆summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

☆pairing: photographer and dancer!Jungkook x dancer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there will be mature content in later chapters)

☆genre: slow (SLOW) burn enemies to lovers, college!au, slice of life!au, angst (oop), smut and fluff

☆warnings: still fighting (sorta?), a little bit of fluff, alcohol consumption, weed smoking, angst, throwing up, cursing

☆word count: 10.2k

☆series masterpost here

☆a/n: new chapter babyyy! As always, thank you to @moonleeai for her help on this fic  <3 best beta reader out there

☆Read What Was Hidden here, the fic that inspired this whole story, written by @daechwitatamic, one of my fav human beings on this app <3 It follows the story of Jo and Taehyung before The Forgotten Spaces

☆☆☆☆☆

For this meeting of our end of the world

It's with you that I want to sing

On the threshold of the memories the dead of today

Them that breathe for us

The forgotten spaces

Je t'écris - Gaston Miron (rough translation by me)

☆☆☆☆☆

Saturday, May 5th

                Jungkook feels anxious. He hasn’t felt anxious like that since the last time he performed on a stage. Even coming here yesterday didn’t feel as bad – maybe because you were the only one waiting for him, and he can’t bring himself to be anxious when it comes to you.

But right now, he knows the full crew is waiting for him, and it feels as if he’s getting crushed by the weight of the universe, like Atlas when he was given the heavens to hold. He wishes he could just turn around and leave, but he made a deal.

He’s not the type to betray his words. So he forces one step in front of the other, even as his leg is killing him, as if it too knows what he’s going to do.

He reckons it’s been hurting since he danced yesterday. But it felt relieving to be dancing for the first time since the accident. Even if it was with you, it felt like coming home.

Maybe because it was with you, in all truth. He knows you’ve never liked each other, but to him it’s always been that kind of relationship where you tease someone because you can. Yes, he once thought you were an entitled rich brat, but he’s known better for years now.

He still feels bad for fighting with you yesterday. But when his leg hurt, he was just taken back to the night of the car crash, and he felt far too vulnerable for his own good.

You’re the last person he wants to be vulnerable in front of.

You haven’t replied to his texts last night. He wasn’t really expecting you to, and he only texted you in the first place because Hobi asked him to do it. Something about making amends, but he didn’t really pay attention to it.

Jungkook sighs as the studio appears in front of him. He’s dreamed of this place for over a year now, and even if he came yesterday, it still feels unreal to see it. To think not all of the world has changed. Maybe he did, maybe he’s changed to the point of no return, but it’s reassuring to see that not everything has.

Like his relationship with you, for instance.

It’s warm today. The sun is about to set, painting the sky in thousands of golden hues, and he has half a thought to stop and admire, maybe snap a picture or two. To breathe for a time, and remember that whatever happens, the sun always rises and sets the next day.

But he has people waiting for him. Friends he avoided for over a year because he’s ashamed of what he’s become.

The thought sobers him up a little, until watching the sunset seems more like it’ll lead to him thinking about stuff he shouldn’t think about. So he heads straight towards the entrance, and thinks of something he could say to rile you up.

Riling you up always makes him feel better after all.

To his surprise, and perhaps even disappointment, you’re not here when he reaches the studio. The five others are, and Hobi informs him that you’re stuck at a family dinner when he notices him scanning the room for you.

Jungkook mumbles that he doesn’t care, before turning towards Heather and Jiho. Heather has a sad pitiful look on her face, and Jiho is holding in a smile. As for Jiho, he knows you probably told him about your fight last night, and Jiho’s always been like a smaller version of you. His eyes go back to Heather, and he’s pretty sure Bridget already told her what happened, and he can only hope she won’t say anything.

He doesn’t really want the crew to know about his leg. Of course, Hobi knows, but Hobi also promised not to tell anyone last year when Jungkook was forced to quit.

So, it’s without you that Jungkook starts to teach everyone the choreography you chose yesterday. He doesn’t dance as much as he did with you, and he does his best not to look at Heather whenever his steps falter. He doesn’t want to see her pity.

It’s mostly the fear of that pity that made him quit without telling anyone. That, and the fact that he doesn’t want to see you satisfied. Because he’s always thought that you would be happy to know he was hurt and couldn’t dance anymore. Something in the way you always frown or glare at him gives it away.

It’s almost ten when you finally join, cheeks flushed red from the fact you had to run from home, as you complain as soon as you arrive. Even if he thought about how to rile you up earlier, Jungkook’s brain is completely empty when you arrive.

So all he can do is nod in acknowledgment before looking away. He sees your frown in the mirror, and it almost makes him smile.

“We’ve been practicing the first part of the choreography while we were waiting for you,” he says, gauging the waters.

“I said I was going to be there at ten,” you let out, looking at Hobi.

Hobi raises his hands in defense.

It makes Jungkook chuckle. “Don’t worry, you’ll just have to stay here longer tonight.”

Your frown turns into a scowl, and your cheeks are not only red because of running now. You’re angry, and probably a little embarrassed. Exactly where he likes you to be.

“I don’t see why, I practiced with you last night,” you point out.

Everyone’s watching the conversation unfold like it’s a tennis match, turning their head from you to him whenever one of you say something. It makes an amused smirk grow on Jungkook’s lips.

“Alright then, show us what you’ve got.” It’s a challenge, and he sends it your way by finally fully facing you. Maybe he shouldn’t have, because he’s struck once again with how much you changed since last year.

Your hair frames your face differently now, and your features look sharper, as if you’ve lost the baby face he’s always known. Your eyes hold the same daggers though, and he thinks about last night.

He doesn’t remember seeing you as furious as you were last night. He’s pretty sure you were extremely close to killing him on the spot, and the thought of it calms him down a little. His relationship with you is fragile as it is, no need to rile you up in front of everyone.

He’s taken aback by his own thought – has he become more mature without even realizing it?

“Bet,” you let out, before glancing once at Jiho.

Jungkook doesn’t miss the way you roll your eyes and Jiho laughs, hiding it behind her hand. It makes him feel stupid, but it’s too late to make you back down from the challenge. If there is one thing he knows about you, it’s that you’re just as competitive as he is.

Maybe even a little more.

“Just turn the music up,” you say nonchalantly as you meet Jungkook’s gaze again.

Your eyes are shining with mischief and it makes a genuine smile grow on his lips. He’s not surprised at all when you reproduce the choreography perfectly. No, he just watches you move – he’s always liked the way your body moves. As if the space surrounding it belongs to it. As if you can’t be contained by your physical body. It’s beautiful, and he believes you are the best dancer he’s ever seen, except maybe for Hobi.

And himself, back before the accident.

But watching you leaves no place for the accident. All he can think of is that you’ve grown more beautiful while he was gone, as if his absence has given you space to grow. And maybe it has, considering that he was always gently bullying you.

He has half a thought that he should stop doing it. Bullying you, that is. But when you stop dancing and you regard him with a superior look on your face, he just wants to remind you that without him you wouldn’t have been able to dance this choreography at all. He doesn’t quite feel like insulting you though, so instead he says, “Glad you were paying attention last night”.

You look smug, and even though you’re way smaller than him you stand proud and tall. It’s cute, and he lets out a small laugh.

That small laugh is enough to shatter the confidence you are carrying yourself with. “What’s funny?” you ask.

He shrugs. “Nothing.”

You eye him suspiciously, before sighing loudly. “What’s the rest of the choreography anyway?”

That’s a question he has an easy answer to, though he thinks it’s better if you wait. Not you you, but all of the team. He wants the first part to be perfect before you dive into what comes next.

“Ah, let’s see you all dance together first,” he says.

The rest of the dance practice flies by, with Jungkook barely needing to guide you all through the choreography anymore. No, with Hobi and you leading the team, it takes little to no time until Jungkook can just sit in a corner and watch, while his mind keeps on planning what should be next. He has a couple of ideas that he’ll have to run through Hobi before telling the rest of you.

While you all dance together, Jungkook absentmindedly massages his leg. The throbbing pain is not so bad right now, but he knows it’ll be as soon as he gets up. Which might be the reason why he waits when Hobi calls dance practice off. Because he doesn’t want to get up in front of the crew, and have them look at him with the same pity Heather’s been throwing his way all night.

Unfortunately for him, Hobi, Jiho and you linger around. Surprisingly, you eventually drift towards him, leaving Hobi and Jiho to the conversation they’re having – something about their favourite restaurant, which coincidentally is the same. They both look excited, and he realizes he hasn’t seen Hobi smiling so much in a long time.

“Are you sulking in your corner?” you ask as you stop next to him.

You hover over him, and he tilts his head back to look up at your face. He wants to tell you to fuck off, only because he really doesn’t think he can get up right now without cursing like a sailor, and he knows you’ve noticed.

“You’ve got a problem against my corner?”

You cock an eyebrow, and a smile forms on your lips. “No, I was coming to tell you you should leave.”

It’s said gently. Not like you said it last night. Confusion falls on his features and he says, “Why?”

The look you throw over your shoulder to where Jiho and Hobi are standing explains everything. Jungkook’s gaze widens, and he lets out a small laugh.

 “No way.”

You don’t know. You don’t know that his leg hurts, so he has no business being angry at you when you kick it. He just freezes, turning to solid ice, as he feels as if magma is dumped on his knee.

“Shut up,” you say, and the only reason you don’t realize you’ve just hurt him is because you’re still watching Jiho and Hobi. “Let’s leave them alone.”

Jungkook gulps, and he takes a deep breath to calm the pain in his leg. It doesn’t do much, and he knows he can’t stand up right now. He needs to find something to say, and quickly.

“Or we stay here and let them go together,” he suggests.

You put your fists on your hips as you look down at him. “Did you shit yourself? Is that why you don’t want to get up?”

He leans his head against the wall, tilting it to the side. “Why do you think I don’t want to get up?”

“Because you haven’t done it yet?”

He reckons he can’t wait any longer. Luckily enough, the small interlude his suggestion has given him has helped with the pain a little, so it doesn’t feel like too much of a challenge to get up.

He plants the right foot firmly on the ground, knowing damn well that if he’s to put weight on his left leg right now he’s just going to humiliate himself in front of you. And then he clenches his jaw so hard he tastes blood before pushing himself up, aiding himself with the wall next to him.

There’s a question burning on your lips. He knows it from the way your eyebrows are almost touching over your eyes. He knows by now that you’re not going to ask it – you’re suspicious about something, but he remembers you for being patient, when it comes to discovering secrets.

He’s always hated how you were able to know everything back then because you were just so patient. He’s pretty sure most of the crew confides in you out of the rest of the group, even though to him Hobi is the right choice. Who would want to confide in a gossiper when Hobi is right there anyway?

Jungkook stands with all of his weight on his right leg. You’re looking up at him now, and he likes that he towers over you: you’re not looking down when he’s standing next to you. You can’t see that he’s not risking putting any weight on his leg at the moment.

Sometimes, he knows he should walk with a cane. He knows it would help him, but to out himself as having a disability? He’s too ashamed to do it.

“Happy?” he asks instead, even as his heart is hammering against his ribcage.

You wet your lips, and his eyes flit to them. You’re smirking when he looks back at your gaze. “You’re adorable.” It’s said condescendingly though, and he wonders if you’re still angry about last night.

You don’t particularly look like you are, but he decides to apologize once more. He’s growing a little tired of all the fighting anyway.

“Hey,” he lets out. He glances over your head to where Hobi and Jiho are still talking, completely oblivious to the world around them. “I’m really sorry about last night.”

He sees you closing yourself off from him. You fold your arms on your chest, shoulders slouching forward a little, and a frown moves on your features. “It’s whatever, Jeon, I don’t care.”

“I shouldn’t have said what I said,” he insists. “It was a little disgusting.”

“You’re always a little disgusting.”

Fucking hell do you know how to rile him up too. “You can’t accept some apologies, can you? You always need to have the last word.” You’re smiling. He realizes you’re smiling, which means you were joking. It makes him shut up, and a pout forms on his lips. “You’re annoying.”

“Apologize to me when you really mean it, Jeon,” you say, and that insufferable smirk hasn’t been dislodged from your lips yet. “We’re not friends, no need to pretend that we are.”

He keeps the pout on for no other reason than the fact you’re looking down at his mouth. “You make it very hard to know what you want,” he complains. “I’m just trying to be decent.”

“Just be yourself,” you say, shrugging your shoulders, as if him being nice to you is not being himself.

He lets go of the pout to play with his piercing for a time. “M’kay then.”

You nod, a satisfied look on your face. You glance at Jiho and Hobi once more, and he follows your line of gaze. “Let’s go now.”

He braces himself for the first step, because he knows there’s nothing he can do to make you change your mind. Surprisingly enough, it doesn’t hurt as bad as he thought it would, and he’s able to follow you. You stop in front of him to wish Jiho and Hobi good night, and he waves goodbye to them before following you out of the room.

“So Jiho’s into Hobi?” he asks once you are out of earshot from them.

You glance at him, shrugging your shoulders. “She might be.”

“I’m pretty positive she has a chance with him,” Jungkook says. “But gosh, after all this time they just now realize it?”

“I mean.” Your tongue darts to wet your lips as you reach the door leading to the world outside. “Some people just take a long time before they realize they have feelings for each other.”

It makes him laugh a little, because to him it doesn’t really make sense. He’s the type who’s always believed that when he’ll meet the right person, he’ll just know.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking.

“Right,” he lets out.

You step outside, and Jungkook breathes in the night air. It’s colder than it was when he arrived, and a little more humid. His damn leg starts to throb again, though it hasn’t really stopped since you kicked it. He ignores it, looking up at the sky to see if there are any stars out. To his disappointment, a cover of clouds hides the constellations from his eyes, and he lets his gaze drop to the cement of the road, and to the orange glow of the neon lights.

He’s put away his camera for the summer, just because he needs a break from college. Visual arts being his major, taking pictures has been feeling like a chore to him lately, but he’s struck that the street is giving an eerie vibe right now, one he knows he’d be able to capture well.

“You know,” you let out, words loud enough to dim the sounds of frogs in the distance. “As much as I hate your guts, I’m glad that you’re back.”

You have a way of lacing insult to compliment that makes him reel inside. He doesn’t know how to interpret the feeling, so he just says, “Your ass needed saving, I’m glad I could provide”.

“I did not need saving,” you grumble. “Just some help.”

He cocks an eyebrow, glancing at you with a no-bullshit look on his features. “What part of the choreography did you come up with again?” he asks teasingly.

“The part where you shut the fuck up.”

He bursts out laughing, and he’s surprised when you join in too. It reminds him that he’s known you for a long time, and even if you’ve never really been friends, you do share some sort of a relationship. Enough so that you can laugh at a dumb joke together.

“Wow, my bad,” he says once he stops laughing.

You look at him, and the proud smile on your lips makes him go brain dead for a few seconds. “Nah, for real, the crew really needed you. I’m glad you came through.”

He holds your gaze, features falling serious as your smile melts into a softer one.

“I’m glad I did too.”

He really is. It feels like he’s in heaven, being able to participate in the act of dancing again. Not by doing it himself, but by having people do what he wishes he could do. It really does feel like coming home.

You walk in silence for a time, listening to the cry of the frogs. It grows louder as you near the small river where they reproduce each year. It reminds Jungkook of spring, and it strikes him how much he’s progressed since last year.

Indeed, at this time of the year last year he was still in his cast.

“Do you think you’ll want to dance again one day?” you ask.

It’s said in a small voice, and he knows you’ve gathered by now that dancing is a sensitive subject to him. He likes how you’re being gentle with it, and maybe that’s the only reason why he doesn’t get offended with the question.

“I never really wanted to stop,” he admits. “Stuff just happened and I couldn’t anymore.”

He’s speaking in the past tense, as if he can dance now. He knows damn well that’s impossible.

“You know, if you ever need to talk to someone about the stuff that happened, we’re all ears for you,” you tentatively say.

It kills the magic of the moment to him. The fact you used “we” instead of “I”. It reminds him that you truly aren’t really friends, and that you won’t ever be friends either.

“I know,” he just replies, and silence reigns around you once more.

Except for the frogs, that is.

You reach the bridge over the river, and the frogs are so loud here it doesn’t really allow for conversation anyway. But even once you’ve crossed the bridge, nearing the intersection where you’ll have to part ways, you both don’t talk.

Jungkook doesn’t think you need to. Silence with you is strangely more comfortable than a conversation. Maybe because then you’re not at each other’s throat all the time.

You near the intersection, and it’s then that you talk again. “How are you getting home?”

He motions towards the bus stop. “I’ll just take the bus.”

You nod, and he watches you as you put your hair behind your ear absentmindedly. “How long of a ride is it for you?”

He shrugs. “I’ve never really paid attention. Maybe forty-five minutes?”

“Oh,” you let out. “I can order a Lyft for you, if you want.”

Your kindness sounds suspiciously like pity, so he declines it right away. “Nah, I’m good. I’ll just listen to some music and think about the choreography. I think I can tweak some parts of the first half to make Scottie use more of his shoulders.”

You hum. “Alright then. Guess I’ll see you around?”

You’ve reached the intersection by now, so Jungkook nods. “See you.”

You hold his gaze for a few more seconds before you nod too, turning around as you start walking towards the rich neighbourhood where you live. If he was closer to you, Jungkook would offer to walk you home. It feels like it’s too much though, so he settles on watching you walk away as he sits at the bus stop.

He’s halfway home when he receives a text.

[12:34 am] You🙄: i’m sure the rest of the choreography will be great

He smiles for the rest of the way home.

Friday, May 18th

                You have been watching your phone for the last hour. It’s been suspiciously silent all morning, even though your dad was supposed to call you on Facetime an hour and a half ago. You’re used to him being late – he’s one of the most renowned lawyers of a big city on the other side of the country. It keeps him very busy, but when he says he’s going to call you he usually does.

So, needless to say, you’re a little annoyed as you watch the minutes go by. You’re on your fourth episode of Attack on Titan when you receive a text, and surprisingly it’s not from your father. You pause the episode, waiting until the text disappears at the top of the screen as if it means it never existed.

You still have yet to save Jungkook’s number. You don’t really want to: you still expect him to disappear once again, and since your fight last week you’ve been a little iffy about him.

Or maybe you’re iffy because you’ve noticed he was in pain last Saturday, trying to pretend he was fine. You have a couple of hypotheses as to why he’s left now, but you’re trying not to think about it too much.

You don’t like thinking about Jungkook.

You sigh, before going to your text messages. You’ve long deactivated the ‘read’ function, so you don’t care: you immediately open his text.

[11:36 am] unsaved number: hey, any chance i could run what i’ve got through u before showing it to the crew tmrw?

You’re appalled, somehow, that he wants to run it through you when he can show Hobi instead. You’re about to tell him so when your phone starts vibrating from your dad’s incoming call. You pick up the call, and your father’s face appears.

He’s sporting his best apologetic smile, and you can see the sun painting his wall behind him. It’s earlier where your father is, and the sun is still far from its zenith, which means it hits the glass doors of your father’s balcony almost perpendicularly now.

“Sorry,” he immediately apologized. “Had a call with a client and couldn’t call you before.”

You’ve missed his voice. You haven’t talked to him in two months, and even though it’s been years of him having moved to the other side of the country, some part of you is still not used to the distance.

“No worries,” you say. “The semester is over now, I’ve just been chilling in my room since I woke up.”

“Don’t you have an internship this summer?”

You let out a small laugh at the stern look on his features. As if he has any authority over you whatsoever. “Yes, it starts at the end of May.”

He nods. “Thought so.” He looks away from the camera, and you think you hear some birds singing. He probably left the balcony doors wide open, enjoying the warmth of the Californian early morning. Last time you went he had gotten a few bird feeders, saying he loves to hear them sing in the morning. The peaceful expression on his features tells you he still does. “What are your plans until then?”

You shrug, and a little like he just did, you look away, towards your own window. It’s sunny outside for you too, though it stopped raining only half an hour ago. You hope it won’t rain again today – it’s been raining way too much lately anyway.

“Just taking it easy,” you answer. “Practicing for the auditions for nationals in July.”

He smiles. “Right. How’s that been going?”

You know there’s a high chance he doesn’t really care. He’s never shown up for any of your dance competitions growing up, and it used to make you feel horrible. Until you were old enough to realize your mother treated him poorly, and being away from her for a few days was always a reprieve to him.

It hasn’t changed now that they are divorced, even if your mother stopped coming to your competitions too.

“It’s been great,” you say. “We’re adjusting to being only six and it’s a challenge, but I think we’ll make it.”

“Haven’t you always just been six?”

He doesn’t remember. You don’t know why he would remember: you only mentioned Jungkook leaving to him once last year when the deed happened, and then did your best to forget all about Jeon Jungkook.

You chuckle. “No, we’ve always been seven. Until Jungkook left last year?”

“Jungkook?” he asks.

“Tall guy, with the sleeve of tattoos and a couple of piercings?” you provide, though you doubt it’ll ring a bell to your father. “He joined the crew at the same time as I did.”

Which almost coincides with the month your parents divorced, actually.

“I feel bad for not remembering, but that’s probably because he didn’t matter, uh?” he says it like a joke, and you roll your eyes playfully.

“He doesn’t,” you agree. Only, he does a little, especially now that he’s become the choreographer.

Especially now that he thinks he has to run the dances through you before showing them to the other members.

“Why did he leave anyway?” your father asks, and he once again glances away from the screen.

You wonder if his new wife is around. From the lack of a three-year-old’s screaming, you assume she went out to the park with their son. Is he looking outside because he’s expecting them to come back soon?

“I don’t know,” you reply. You shrug, even if your father is not looking at you right now. “He’s come back to be the choreographer now, though.”

That attracts your father’s attention again. “Wow, a choreographer. Your crew is getting big, isn’t it?”

He’s only partly listening. Because you’re not quite sure he understood what you just said, but it doesn’t matter.               

He’s not really your father anyway.

“Well, we’ll see if we can win nationals.”

“Where are they held this year?” he asks, and he sounds genuine. As if he might be considering coming.

“Some place near here”, you inform him. “In Chicago two hours away.”

Chicago is the city where he used to take you when you were a kid to see the Christmas decoration. It was something you did just you two, and to this day it is still one of your favourite memories of him.

He’s not your father. Biologically, that is. But he’ll always be your dad, no matter how many miles separates you from him.

“Ah, why did I think it was in California?”

“Because you’ve been wanting them to be in California for the last three years?” you tease.

It makes him laugh, which brings a bright smile to your lips. “They’ve been on the East coast for years now, shouldn’t they come to my side of the country?”

You purse your lips, looking up as if pondering. “Maybe you should be the one coming.”

The suggestion dims the light in your father’s eyes. You know he associates this side of the country with your mother, and with a lot of bad memories. You don’t blame him – she did hide from him and you that you aren’t his biological daughter until you found out yourself through some genetic testing when you were sixteen.

“I’ll think about it,” and it’s synonym to no. You know him well enough. He’s quick to change the subject too. “Do you think you’ll be visiting this summer?”

You haven’t really planned to. Something about seeing him with his wife and son always makes you feel awful. And it makes you feel even worse that you’re jealous of his happiness, that you’re jealous your family life cannot be like that. He deserves it after everything your mother put him through.

You’re happy for him though. You can’t deny it. Even though you believed it was risky for him to have kids considering he’s a carrier of a Tay-Sachs disease gene. From what he’s told you, his son didn’t get the gene, which is a relief, but had you been him you wouldn’t have taken the risk.

“I don’t know,” you finally reply. “It depends how busy it gets with the internship and dance practice.”

He’s disappointed, but he doesn’t say anything. He knows how hard it is for you to come, so he mostly asks out of reflex. He’ll never put pressure on you to do it.

“We’re back!” a cheery woman’s voice says.

You reckon it’s risky for her to scream in the house like that when your father might have been on a call with a client, but love makes people stupid.

He greets her and their son, before resuming his attention on you. “I’ll have to go.”

You wish he wouldn’t have to, but you don’t really have anything else to tell him anyway. So you offer him your best excuse of a warm smile, and a moment later you’ve hung up.

It brings you back to the text conversation with Jungkook, and the unanswered message he sent you. You sigh, and maybe if you weren’t feeling sadly nostalgic about your father, you would have told him to run it through Hobi instead.

For some reason, Jungkook feels like a good distraction though, so you reply,

[11:58 am] You: if u can pull up at the studio some time this evening, yeah sure

He replies almost right away, as if he was waiting for you to text him.

[11:59 am] unsaved number: i’ll try to be there around 9😌

You’re annoyed that he chose such a late hour, especially considering you are supposed to meet up with Jiho for girl’s night – aka clubbing and finding some strangers to kiss the night away. Though you reckon she probably doesn’t really want to kiss anyone now that she and Hobi have started to talk.

[12:04 pm] You: depends how quick u are, i’m going out with jiho [12:05 pm] unsaved number: i promise i’ll be quick, i’ve got something tonight too

You have no idea why he suggested tonight then, but you don’t press him for an explanation. Mostly because you don’t really care, but also because you’re excited for girl’s night, especially considering you missed last week because Jiho had a family dinner.

You can just hope that Jungkook is right on time.

*****

                You will kill him. You will murder Jeon Jungkook. You reckon you should have murdered him last week when you first wanted to – you would have been rid of him already.

No, you had to ask him to leave instead, and now he’s almost an hour late, and you have to meet Jiho at her house in twenty minutes. Her brother is coming with you, and he’s bringing his boyfriend, and you really want to meet the mysterious Felix.

Jeon Jungkook can go to hell.

You texted him when he was only ten minutes late. You know it takes him a long time to get here, so you just gave him the benefit of the doubt at first. But now it’s getting far too late for it to just be the bus, and your blood is positively boiling, enough so that you text Jiho.

[9:49 pm] You: what if we change plan tonight to murder jk😤 [9:50 pm] Jiho❣️: omg i was gonna text u [9:50 pm] Jiho ❣️ hobi sent me this

She forwards a video to you. You furrow your eyebrows before clicking on the video, and loud music blasts out of your phone. You quickly turn the volume down, even if you’re alone in your small studio, and you focus on the screen. It looks like a living room, though the light bulbs have been changed to red. The video starts by showing off Hobi’s face as he’s smiling, and then he starts laughing and turns the camera around.

Jeon Jungkook is shotgunning a beer in the middle of the living room, not caring that half of it spills on the floor. You don’t watch the rest of the video, immediately going back to texting Jiho.

[9:51 pm] You: is he at a FKG PARTY????? [9:52 pm] Jiho❣️: seems like it🙄 [9:52 pm] Jiho❣️: Hobi invited us and sent the vid [9:52 pm] Jiho❣️: i don’t think he knows jk was supposed to go to the studio [9:52 pm] You: HOLD ON?!😳 [9:53 pm] You: hobi invited us??? or invited u😏

Jiho sends a bunch of shy emojis, before adding:

[9:53 pm] Jiho❣️: he knows we’re going out tonight, so us [9:54 pm] Jiho❣️: he might have said he wants to see me tho☺️🫣

You shriek. Loud and clear, and you almost forget how angry you are at Jeon Jungkook. No, if you go to that party, it’s to make sure Jiho and Hobi get together. Jungkook can go fuck himself.

[9:55 pm] You: BITCH HE SAID WHAT [9:55 pm] You: I SHIP THIS SO HARD😍 [9:56 pm] You: is he cool with sungie and his bf coming too?🤔

Jiho takes a moment before replying, long enough that you decide to leave the studio. It’s clear that Jungkook is not going to come anyway, and you’d rather shriek with Jiho than at your phone. Whatever you did last week probably worked if Hobi wants to see her now.

You’ve never been so happy for your best friend in your whole life.

You walk quickly, happy that you chose platform boots for tonight. Jiho’s platform boots, to be precise. You’ve paired them with knee-high socks, a black skirt and a pink corset that hugs your body perfectly. For now, it’s hidden under an oversized gray sweater, and you walk with your head hung low.

It occurs to you as you near the bridge that you should have taken a Lyft to go home, because it’s late and you’re a woman. Luckily though, you don’t see anyone until you get to your neighbourhood, and then you just see a couple walking hand in hand. They offer you a smile that you reciprocate awkwardly, and a few minutes later you finally arrive at Jiho’s house.

Jiho, Jisung and an unknown blond-haired guy are sitting on the porch, and Jiho jumps to her feet as soon as she sees you.

“Bitch?” you say as a way of greeting, right as she jumps in your arm. “He wants to see you?”

She’s nodding happily, but she remains silent.

“She hasn’t shut up about it in the last twenty minutes,” Jisung puts in. “I think I’ll kill her before we even reach that lame ass frat party.”

“The only thing lame here is your attitude,” Jiho throws at her brother as she pulls away from the hug. “That, and Jeon Jungkook,” she adds, looking at you now.

You roll your eyes, but you’re not going to let the mention of him ruin your night. Not when Hobi and Jiho are on the line.

You reckon you don’t even care that Jungkook is at the party. You don’t care that he stood you up, but you’re still going to give him shit for it, aren’t you?

“Let’s not think about this asshole,” you say. And then you move closer to where Jisung and Felix are standing, and you wave to the latter. “Hi, I’m Y/n.”

He smiles and he replies with the deepest voice you’ve heard in your entire life. “Nice to meet you. These two had lots of stuff to say about you.”

You eye Jisung and Jiho suspiciously. “Good things, I hope?”

They look sheepish, and Jisung says, “I might have mentioned the vodka incident”.

“Sung-ie!” you yelp. “It was one time, like eight years ago! Did you tell him about that time we found you naked in a snowbank? You could have died.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Felix lets out, and Jisung charges towards you, probably with the goal of killing you.

It makes you scream as you run away, but he grabs you before you’ve reached the end of the driveway. He picks you up, arms wrapped around your middle, and you kick the air in front of you as you laugh loudly, something between snorting and shrieking. It’s a disgustingly childish sound, and it’s probably way too loud for the peaceful neighbourhood.

Jisung puts you down, even though he probably considered throwing you first, and you spin around with the intention to shove him, but he’s already moved away.

“Do you know the amount of embarrassing stories I can tell about you?” you say, just to be a little brat.

He’s flushed red, and he says through gritted teeth, “Please, not in front of…” he trails off, motioning towards Felix with his head.

“I’m sure Felix wants to know all the embarrassing stories, do you?” you ask towards the guy, and Jisung is running towards you again.

You dodge this time, and he almost falls before you both burst out laughing as Felix just watches with a soft smile on his lips.

“Are they always like this?” he asks Jiho.

She nods. “You put two idiots together and it’s bound to happen.”

“I’m sorry what!” you burst out in time with Jisung, and the group all laughs.

It’s in this childish atmosphere that you all filter into the Lyft Jiho ordered once you arrived, and you talk and laugh together. Turns out that Felix is Australian, and you all tease him for his accent. It’s probably something that Jiho and Jisung have been doing a lot, because he looks at you for salvation until you repeat “naur” in your best Australian accent imitation.

You feel sixteen again, and it’s healing, somehow. For what, you don’t know. Maybe because talking to your father this morning felt nostalgic, and Jiho and Jisung are reminding you that you do have your own family.

The Lyft drops you in front of a house. It’s not on campus, so it’s probably not a frat house. It feels like one though, considering the booming music you can hear even though the windows are closed. You think of the video Hobi sent, and of Jungkook shotgunning a beer.

If there is a frat thing to do, shotgunning a beer seems like it’s at the top of the list. Especially when it’s not done well because, truth be told, you don’t think frat bros are good when it comes to drinking alcohol. They just tend to overdo it all the time, until they’ve made a fool out of themselves. It seems Jeon Jungkook is not an exception.

“So, are we going in?” Felix asks, and a chorus of “saur” answers him.

He’s the kind of person that has an easy laugh though, because he just bursts out laughing in time with you all. You all move towards the house still, and you figure you don’t need to knock to open the door.

As soon as the door opens, the music volume goes up, and you wince as you glance at Jiho. “Never took Hobi for a frat bro.”

She rolls her eyes, laughing a shy laugh. “You know he’s not a frat bro.”

“This is a frat party,” you say, loudly because you’ve moved inside and you don’t think she’ll be able to hear you.

“This is a house party,” she replies. “It’s not the same thing.”

You roll your eyes at her, and then the living room comes into view. It’s not as full as you thought it would be, but there’s still a small crowd gathered around the room. You recognize some of the people because you’ve seen them last week. Bridget and Jo are there, along with Hobi and Jungkook’s friends. There are a few people you’ve never seen before – and you see a couple disappearing downstairs, closing the door behind them.

It makes you laugh, right as Jo and Bridget notice you. Jo waves you over, and you link your arm with Jiho to pull her towards the girl. For now, Hobi and Jungkook are out of sight, so you figure greeting Jo and her friends is the most important thing to do.

You’ll kill Jeon Jungkook later, after you’ve made sure Jiho is all set with Hobi.

“Hey girls!” Jo greets you when you stop next to her. She giggles drunkenly, and you reckon she’s probably a couple of shots in already.

Taehyung is nearby, so you’re not worried about her.

“What’s up?” you ask as you loosely hug her and Bridget.

You’re pulling away from Bridget’s hug when Heather appears. Her cheeks are flushed red with alcohol, and she wraps an arm around your neck and Jiho’s neck to pull you into a tight group hug, shrieking something incoherent.

She’s clearly indulged in alcohol a lot already.

Bridget pulls her off you two, and you all laugh as Heather mumbles an apology.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” she says with her slurred speech.

Bridget winces, before looking at Jo. “You need to stop making everyone drink so much.”

“The semester is over, let us have fun.”

Bridget laughs, shaking her head. “You’ve been dating Tae for what, two weeks? And you’re already changing into a party girl. Kiko is never going to talk to you again.”

Jo pouts. “Kiko loves me, I’m all good.”

You have no idea who Kiko is, so you glance at Jiho. She’s moved to let her brother and Felix into the circle, and she starts introducing them both to everyone. It seems it’s an opportunity for shots, because Jo links her arm with yours to bring you into the kitchen, claiming she’ll need help with the shots. You follow because you like her, and partying with her again sounds like a good time indeed.

You’re halfway done pouring shots for everyone when the door leading to the backyard opens, and Jimin, Hobi and Jungkook come in. They’ve got bloodshot eyes, and it’s easy to figure out what they were doing out there.

You stop pouring as Jimin sees you first, and his mouth falls open in surprise, before moving into a warm grin. He says your name, and he moves towards you.

“How are you?” he asks you, and he lets out a small laugh as if that was the most clever thing he’s said in his life.

Yeah, he definitely is high.

You haven’t talked to him a lot, since you saw him at the bar two weeks ago. He dmed you on Instagram, like he had said he’d do, but the conversation had just naturally died. It had been a friendly conversation though, and you’re happy to see him tonight.

“Clearly not as baked as you, but I’m good,” you reply, and you resume pouring the shots as Hobi and Jungkook just watch you.

They start laughing, which you reckon makes you laugh a little too. It’s awkward, and Jo just surveys the scene with a small knowing smile on her lips.

You’re forced to pour three more shots for the boys – even Jungkook, and you only do it because Jo glares at you when you frown as she motions at him. Jungkook is still just standing in the spot he stopped when he saw you, and he’s got a dumb smile on his lips.

You don’t know if you like the smile. But it’s sort of cute, and better than the infuriating smirk he’s mastered when he’s around you.

When all the shots are ready, you carry them all on a tray back to the living room. Jo helps you in handing them out to everyone, and a moment later everyone downs their shot. You wince at the taste of tequila, and you feel a pair of eyes on you that make your blood curdle inside.

It’s Jungkook, and even though you didn’t mind him in the kitchen, you’re suddenly reminded that he stood you up tonight. You’re going to need a lot more alcohol if you’re to confront him, so you pull Jisung and Felix behind you to the kitchen so you can mix yourself a drink. You settle on gin and tonic while Jisung makes two rum and coke for him and his boyfriend, and then you’re on your way back to the living room when Jungkook appears in front of you. You stop, which makes Jisung bump into you, which makes you spill your drink a little on Jungkook.

He looks down at the wet spot on his shirt, and then up at your face. Even in the red light of the living room, you can still see his blown-wide pupils, and they search your features for a few seconds before going to your drink.

“If you wanted me to take off my shirt you could have just asked,” he says.

“What the fuck?” Jisung lets out. “Isn’t that the dude that ghosted the dance crew?”

You turn toward Jisung, eyes widened in warning. He takes the cue, and he grabs Felix by the arm to guide him around Jungkook and towards the living room.

“That was an accident,” you say once Jisung and Felix are gone. “The last thing I want to see is you with your shirt off.”

He laughs. It sounds more like a giggle – it’s not a sound that a tall guy with piercings and a sleeve of tattoos should make. You’ve heard it plenty of times before though, and tonight it rings differently.

Instead of getting on your nerves, you find it a little cute. Which disgusts you so bad you scowl.

“Damn, all this working out for nothing,” he jokes. He looks down at your glass once more, before finding your gaze. “What are you having?”

You’re sick of the conversation. You’re sick of your little brain thinking Jungkook was cute a second ago, so you say, “Why did you stand me up?”

He has the decency to look apologetic. “My plans started earlier. I texted you, no?”

“You didn’t?”

He seems really confused, with a pout moving on his lips as he grabs his phone in a pocket of his black cargo pants. He looks down at the device, blinking a few times as if to bring his screen into focus. And then he bursts out laughing and he shows you his phone.

“I’m so fucking dumb,” he says in between two sets of laughter. “I forgot to press send.”

Somehow, that is such a Jungkook thing to do that you can’t really bring yourself to be angry at him. No, you really have the proof under your eyes, so all you are is a little annoyed, but you’re not furious like you were back at the studio.

“Gosh,” you let out. “I waited for you for an hour.”

His face falls as he pouts again, big eyes turning apologetic. “I’m so sorry. I can show you the choreography here, though.” He says that looking around, scanning the living room as if he’s making sure there’s enough room. He then seems to reconsider, shaking his head a little. “Well, maybe not in front of everyone.”

“It can wait,” you tell him, and you sip your gin and tonic as you notice Jiho and Hobi talking behind him.

“No.”

Jungkook’s little objection brings your attention back to him. “What do you mean, no?”

“We can go upstairs and I can show you in my room.”

You let out a disbelieved laugh. “You live here?”

“Yes,” he says as he nods enthusiastically. “With Jin, Jimin and Taehyung.”

You don’t know the first guy, but you still purse your lips. “Interesting”.

There’s a small silence as you once again sip on your gin and tonic. Jungkook is watching you carefully, as if he’s growing impatient with the silence, and you cock an eyebrow at him.

“So?”

“So what?” you ask.

“Can we go upstairs so I can show you?”

Another disbelieved laugh falls from your lips. “I’m not going upstairs to your room with you.”

He pouts again, like he’s a child and not a grown-ass man. It contrasts deeply with the piercing on his lips, and it makes you feel weird inside. You don’t like it, and you chase the feeling away with a long sip this time.

“Please?” he asks. “I’ve really wanted to show you.”

You roll your eyes. “Just do it here,” you suggest. “Or outside, I don’t care.”

“But you spilled your drink on my t-shirt!” he insists. “You owe that to me, don’t you think?”

You clench your jaw. He is annoying, far too annoying. But he doesn’t seem like there’s any chance you’ll let it go, and if he really wants to show you, then what’s wrong with going up to his room?

You ask yourself that question at least a thousand times by the time it takes to go from the hallway leading to the kitchen and up to his room. You look back once as you walk up, mostly because you’re afraid someone will see you. You’re relieved when you see no one looking, and you quickly follow Jungkook until you’re out of sight.

You let out a sigh of relief, until Jungkook stops in front of you and you bump into him, spilling even more of the gin and tonic on him.

It takes a few seconds for you to realize he stopped because Jo is in front of him, and the moment she sees you her mouth falls open and she lets out a loud laugh.

“Wow,” she lets out.

“It’s not what you think,” you immediately defend yourself, though you reckon it makes it look a lot more suspicious.

“I just need to show her something,” Jungkook mumbles, with that same pout he’s been using for a while now.

Jo hums. “Right.” She looks at you, before walking around Jungkook. She’s starting to walk down the stairs when she says, “Have fun”.

You take it back. You’re not sure you like her anymore.

You reluctantly follow Jungkook to his room, and you only realize then how warm you’ve been. Because his room is blissfully cool, and the purple LED lights you’ve seen when he called you on Facetime the other day make for a good reprieve for your eyes.

You’re surprised to see his bed is neatly made, and there’s not a single piece of clothing on the floor. For some reason, you’ve always thought he’d be a messy person, but no, his room is pristine. He has a gaming set-up in one corner, and the RGB lights move from purple to light blue in a hypnotizing wave.

And then, you almost drop your red solo cup as Jungkook pulls his shirt off while taking a few steps towards a dresser. The muscles of his back work under his skin as he rummages in a drawer to find a new shirt after having put the wet one in a hamper. He holds a t-shirt up triumphantly, and he turns towards you with the biggest smile on his face.

The front of his body looks just as good as the back, but your eyes stop on a gash on his stomach. A scar, with jagged edges that almost look painful to the touch. It starts on his side and goes down until it disappears in his pants, almost following the V-line shaped muscle to the millimeter.

He doesn’t notice your look. Or if he does he doesn’t care, because he just puts the shirt on, until his skin disappears from you.

That scar didn’t use to be there. There’s no chance in hell it would have gone unnoticed.

“So, I might be a little too drunk and high to perform well,” Jungkook says, as if you’re not looking at him with a horrified gaze, “but I think we could…” He furrows his brows. “Is something wrong?”

You don’t know what to say. You just shake your head no, before mumbling, “Sorry, go on”.

He doesn’t seem like he wants to let it go, but then he shrugs. “You know how the rhythm of the song slowly changes? I think we could use that to make a cool bridge.”

He pulls out his phone, before moving to a small speaker on his night table. He turns the speaker on, and a few seconds later the song starts to play. He starts dancing but stops way before he reaches the part he mentioned in the song.

“This is awkward,” he says, and he laughs. He pushes his hair back, eyes still boring through yours. “You’re right, I shouldn’t be showing you this here.”

“Jeon, I’ve seen you dance a thousand times before, you’re all good,” you say, encouraging him to continue.

“I don’t dance like I used to though,” he points out.

He’s right, but now that you’ve seen the scar you’re afraid the worst scenarios you’ve thought up might be true after all.

“If you’d rather wait until tomorrow then that’s okay too,” you suggest, offering him salvation.

He seems to ponder, and a disappointed look takes over his features. And then they just turn dark, filled with ghosts and demons. The same ones he was fighting last week a moment before your argument.

He sighs loudly, before sitting on the side of his bed. You still haven’t moved from your spot next to the door, and your red solo cup will soon be empty. You need to figure out something else to occupy yourself when the air turns awkward, because it sure does turn awkward now.

Jungkook clears his throat, and then he lets out a small bitter chuckle. “You saw the scar, uh?”

You can’t lie, so you just offer him a small, “Yeah”.

“That one is not even the worst one,” he admits. “I’ve got a big one on my leg, and a smaller one from the two surgeries to reconstruct my knee.”

Your heart is beating uncomfortably in your chest. You’re not sure Jungkook wants to be telling you this, and his defeated form makes you ache. You wish you could take the pain away, but all you can do is stand where you are and listen to him as he keeps on talking.

“We were in a car accident last year? I’m the one that got it the worst. It fucked up my leg. And I almost lost a kidney. The kidney is fine now but uh…” He runs a hand through his hair, and only then does he look at you. You wish he didn’t, because the pure look of despair in his eyes makes your throat constrict as a lump forms at the bottom of it. “That’s why I can’t dance anymore. I even had to relearn how to walk.”

He falls silent. The song is still playing, probably because Jungkook put it on repeat, but you reckon you haven’t paid attention to it since he started talking. You hold his gaze, and you can’t for the life of yourself find any hatred for him in you. Because you don’t know what you would do if dancing was taken away from you.

You would be devastated, that’s for sure.

“I…” you start, but you don’t find anything to say. “Wow, Jungkook.”

He looks down at the floor, and he massages his leg mindlessly. You noticed him doing it last week, but now you know why.

“A funny thing, though, is that I have some metal in my leg now? If I do an MRI it’s going to legit rip from my skin.”

There is absolutely nothing funny in that statement, and you just look at him blankly. “Jungkook…”

He scoffs now, and he sounds like a wounded animal. He is a wounded animal. “See, that’s why I didn’t want you all to know.”

“Why?” you ask.

“Because you think I’m pathetic,” he snaps. “You look at me with that pitiful look on your face and I fucking hate it. It’s already hard enough to deal with the consequences of it all by myself, but having people pity me? It feels like shit.”

He’s getting worked up, and you don’t have time to say anything before he continues, “Like okay, my dream was taken away from me! But who fucking cares, you’re probably just happy because you’ve always hated me, and now you don’t have to deal with me anymore.” He hits his forehead with the side of his clenched fist, as if he needs to knock some sense into himself. “And Bridget told Heather and Heather’s been treating me like I’m a fucking child. Just because my leg is hurt doesn’t mean I’m a fucking child, you know.”

He glares at you, while you just watch with a widened gaze, your mouth a little open from the surprise of his outburst.

“And the worst part is, it hurts. All. The. Fucking. Time. I can’t even walk without it hurting, it hurts so bad some days I can’t even get out of bed. It’s been hurting more since I danced last week as if to say, ‘bro, don’t even dare doing something that you love’. It’s exhausting.”

There’s a small silence, and he’s breathing heavily. He’s really worked up now, and you’re still just watching without knowing what to do or say. Your red solo cup is entirely forgotten in your hand. You don’t think you’ve blinked since he started talking, and the horror of it all has not even fully hit you yet.

“I just want it to stop,” he continues. There’s an edge to his voice, and you realize he might just burst out crying then and there. “And I’m going to be sick.”

He’s barely finished saying the sentence that he bends over, throwing up right in front of his feet on the floor. That shakes you out of your trance, and you gag at the sounds he makes while he’s sick. You turn your head away from him, and you quickly fish your phone out of your sweater’s pocket. All you can think to do is text Jimin, and Jungkook is wiping tears on his cheeks when you glance back at him.

“Fuck,” he curses. “I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, but you know you’ve gone white. You’re not good with people being sick, and if you stay in this room just a moment longer you’ll be sick too. “It’s okay, Jungkook, you’re all okay.”

“I’m not though,” he says, and he hides his face in his hands.

You don’t like seeing Jeon Jungkook like this. You much rather prefer when he’s being a pain in the ass, as if his only purpose in this world is to be a prick to you. Now he just looks like a broken man, and nothing you’ve learned in your whole life has ever prepared you to deal you with such a situation, especially not one happening with him, the man you’ve always hated.

You’re lucky enough though. Someone knocks at the door, and you quickly pull it open. It’s Jimin, and he’s got a concerned look on his features. It just gets worse when he sees Jungkook, and his eyes dip to the puddle on the floor.

“Shit,” he curses. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” is all you can think to say.

“Can you go get Taehyung?” Jimin asks gently as he steps into the room.

You nod, because you really need to get away before you get sick too. Some part of you feels horrible to leave Jungkook behind but, for your own good, you need to go.

Call it preservation or something.

Prev | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

Oooooof poor Jungkook🥺☹️ I wish I could give him a good hug bc gosh he deserves it Sooo what did we think this week? Did we like it? Let me know!✨

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate.

Taglist (strike-through means dumblr is not letting me tag you, my bad):

@chimchimmarie | @pamzn | @sugaluvmyg | @tearyjjeon | @jkclouds | @libra04 | @parkinglot-nights | @ggukieasy | @omnomnomtron | @jichimx | @synnfulqt | @leedoesntknaur | @pornichet | @melodiesforarii | @oopscoop | @nadzzzblog

[moonshynecybin]

it’s probably been said already but rosquez howl’s moving castle

INSANE!!!!!!! vale's tiny earring vaguely androgynous wizard swag... old man marc... this got long?? under the cut

and see the thing is. i think this is a unique kind of torture for someone like marc. truly. like marc knows he's hot. marc enjoys people thinking he's hot. even in this universe, where he's sadly running the family shop so alex doesnt have to, i simply must believe he has six pack abs and is in fact invested in making people look at them. like he views his body as a machine, hes very active, he would NOT enjoy all of the new aches and pains and limitations that come with being magically EIGHTY. so after the witch of the wastes (uccio?? someone jealous and in love with vale LMAOO) brushes in to the hatshop that night and hates marc on sight/fundamentally alters his body, i think he IMMEDIATELY starts militantly looking for a solution.

the solution: the wizard valentino is this oft elusive but INCREDIBLY charismatic wizard known by whisper and rumor to a. be insanely powerful and b. eat the HEARTS out of his young suitors. and marc (CRAZY MAN.) goes oh well im not hot anymore so he wont do that to me. i will make him fix me! and then he invites himself into vale's home and refuses to leave! says i am your new HOUSEKEEPER. and you will help me break my curse thank you :)

BUT: instead of a mystical and powerful wizard, hes confronted with the HOT GUY that he met several weeks ago that he helped escape from the witch of the waste's GOONS. he was like. walking home. and vale (in his big poofy shirt) whisks him into a scheme... looks at marc all bright eyed mischief... and marc hasnt had any enrichment in his enclosure in so long and just feels LIT UP from the inside, falls into step with vale immediately, matching him as they go. feels ALIVE for the first time since alex took his apprenticeship in another town... so he helps vale escape, flirts with him a LOT and laughs even more. smitten. but crucially and unfortunately, he also has NO idea who vale is throughout this. so later when he walks in the door and finds out that the guy he has a major crush on is also THE WIZARD VALENTINO. who also has a small FLEET of HIGHLY SKEPTICAL teen boy apprentices that marc is now kind of in charge of coparenting and like. convincing to clean their rooms, its a bit of an insane time to be marc.

so some WILD but highly amusing control freak behavior from marc ensues.. lots of little frictions as he arrives... pushback from the kids, vale acting cold and dismissive, a brand new body that doesnt do what he wants it to do... but after a while, marc MAKES space for himself. forcibly improves their lives. settles in to a FAMILY and CRUCIALLY starts emotionally fulfilling the little feral animal inside him that yearns to throw himself off of motorcycles at high speeds. get this many adrenaline seeking freaks that know MAGIC in one place and they are inventing new types of danger Know This. marc is with vale and the kids doing insane shit. and for the first time since he took over his family's shop, he is allowing himself to do what he LOVES. find his purpose. enjoy a community. relieve some of the crushing weight of familial responsibility. its literally the best hes ever felt. and he is. SO in love. so so in love.

BUT im gonna pull something from the novel here: marc is also an incredibly powerful sorcerer. has been forever. he just has NO IDEA. like i see marc literally his entire life using magic in little ways to influence all of the crazy thrill seeking stuff that he's done, but entirely unintentionally. but vale fucking knows. could see it the second they met. in FACT. marc has already broken his curse (marc doesnt know that). but he likes sticking around vale. so he's unconsciously keeping himself old so he can avoid leaving. truly, like when he isnt thinking about his body and hes normal and happy he looks like his actual age. marc with silver hair just laughing with vale and the boys... smile lines staying there but wrinkles fading more and more as time passes... he doesnt want to go back to his old life!!! back to being unremarkable in the hatshop like he knows he should!!! and everytime he remembers he looks decades older... but vale doesnt want to lose him either. so he doesnt tell him. but he also vant make a move with it hanging over them like that... so they live in a fraught equilibrium of pining that is also lowkey a marriage LMAO. like you are coparenting. jesus.

EYE THINK. that the breaking point here is alex returning at some point. talking with marc. and marc is. SO happy to see alex. smiling as hard as he can. but also he looks older than he's looked since he first arrived. all of that responsibility and guilt rushing back for abandoning his life at the hatshop. and it TEARS into vale like omg i am keeping him here selfishly away from his brother.... so he sends him away, "breaks" his curse. and marc thinks hes being DUMPED. and thats how the divorce happens....

[mostofthingsmostofthetime]

I finished the second episode of Heartstopper last night (wanted to post about it yesterday, but I was too tired from work), so here are some of my thoughts in no particular order for you now.

Good on Nick for checking up on Charlie after what happened. I found it odd, though, that he seemed more emotional about it than Charlie, but I guess they're in two very different places, mentally. One being 'why do I seem to like this guy way more than my other friends?' & the other being 'omg stop being so nice to me, your straight!' lol. Plus, I get that everyone deals with stuff in their own way & poor Charlie is probably so used to being mistreated that he might just be repressing the full weight of how his feeling as a copeing mechanism. It was also probably very cathartic to finally tell someone everything that happened between him & Ben (as I'm guessing he kept most if not all of it a secret from his friends & sister).

WE FINALLY MEET NELLIE!!!! And she is as cute as I'd hoped (though for some reason I expected her to be a different colour).

Sorry, Charlie, but Tori's right. Your hair looks exactly the same. Also, love that they kept the gag from the novel about her scaring him with her, always showing up suddenly without warning.

Nice to see that the outfits are on point for our boys so far with the plaid/black jeans (trying to impress someone, I see Charlie) & T-shirt/joggers (also what product is Miss Nelson using coz Nick's tops look soft as hell).

Wait, what season is it supposed to be because it looked really sunny when Charlie was walking to Nick's house (I know he was wearing a coat & hat but Charlie is always cold) but then suddenly it's snowing? Idk when Alice first came up with this story, but as a Brit, I haven't seen proper full on Snow since I was probably around eight years old. But hey, maybe in the Heartstopper universe, global warming doesn't exist.

I don’t care what anyone says, I will never get the fun of a snowball fight. If I go somewhere with a friend & they start throwing stuff at me, I'm leaving! Also, picking it up with your bare hands? One, it's been on the ground 🤢, and two, where are your gloves? Do you not feel the cold? Snow angles do look fun until I think about how my entire behind would be frozen/damp. Sorry if that makes me a "stick in the mud", I don't care 😝.

Damn, that is one photogenic dog & and aww, they already look like a couple. Also, give it up for Nick's freckles, the real star of the show 👏.

Omg, being in the same group as someone you hate must be so hard, but I get why Nick can't really say anything about what Ben did, at least not right now. Also, what is up with that Imogen girl? Mind your damn business.

I think it's good we get to see Elle longing for a bond with other girls that she just can't get from her male friend group. Makes her transition feel more fleshed out (for lack of a better word), you know?

Yay, we finally meet Tara & Darcy & they're exactly how I thought they'd be (except I imagined Darcy with brown hair for some reason). Ooh I didn't know Elle was artistic. I wanna decorate pencil cases now. Tara's pink puffa coat is so cute. What is up with adults dictating how long kids' hair can be? Like who gives a fuck! Also "gal pals" had me 😆.

Oh, thank god, it's just misinformation. For a second, I thought Tao was making shit up just to make Charlie get over his crush. Are kids really like that, though? I can't imagine kissing someone once & having people insist, I'm madly in love with them to this day, like move on already.

Ok, I officially really like the gay teacher, lol.

Love Charlie's sweater & Nick's coats are also very nice. Where are these kids getting their clothes? Coz I'm embarrassed by most of the stuff I wore as a teenager.

The big hoodie moment should be cute, but I just can't help thinking about how skinny Charlie is, which makes me ☹️.

Ok, so I didn't care much for the leaf animation in the first episode, but omg, the little fire crackles when Nick was trying to hold Charlie's hand? Screaming, crying, throwing up!!!!!!! & the hug before he left? Fucking crops watered for life, bitch!

Was digging Elle's outfit, very 70's vibes.

Ah, so their "secret" is out. Also obligatory: 🗣 LET'S GO LESBIANS LET'S GO 🗣

Can't wait for the next episode, but I practically passed out after watching episode 2 (manual labour is hard, kids 😭), so maybe I hallucinated, but did that Imogen girl ask Nick out? I thought she was daiting Ben? Or is that a different girl?

PS. I found out Aled won't be in the show, which I accept & the only reason I haven't talked about Isaac is because he hasn't really done much yet

[avissapiens]

How to be a Jock Ch.7: Work

(ID:https://www.instagram.com/fitbidlan/?hl=en)

You don’t need a work-life balance when your work is your life. The Jock derives joy from performance. From success and objective measures of victory and hard fucking work.

For a jock their paycheck and the numbers they pull in for their job are as much a thrilling rush as their days crushing skulls on the court. The line just gets higher. That’s all they care about. Coming in an hour early and leaving only when they’ve given 110%. A real company man through and through. Winning promotion after promotion, award beyond measure.

They’ll smile for their “Best quarterly earner” photo, but inside it’s a different story. An almost psychotic drive. Fiery passion and bloodlust mixed with frigid calm and efficiency. Willing to do anything, step on anyone’s back to get to the top of the ladder and then kick it down after them. Because unlike most of the other worker drones, they aren’t working for someone else; not really. They might have a boss but they are basically interchangeable. Just a place filler while the Jock climbs their way to the top. Maybe a source of hatred and vitriol, or perhaps being a cause for inspiration and aspiration. But ultimately just another enemy. Another obstacle to be broken in half and left on the field.

*Subtle demonic whispers here*

Take Karan for example. A young up-and-comer in the Avis Athletics Agency. Scouted from university specifically after the recruiting agent saw him take down a guy twice his weight on the wrestling mat in a minute flat. Dude never broke a sweat, every second with that soft but piercing glare of absolute victory. Like his opponent was just an object to be manipulated for his own pleasure and purpose. He didn't let go of that Death grip until the Ref shook off his astonishment and counted the poor jobber out. A perfect fit for an internship at our illustrious corporation. 

He’s such a good team player too. Practically integrated with all of the other interns and made them into a single unit. A well-oiled regiment that followed orders and executed them with deadly efficiency. Best Copy-and-coffee squad the office has ever had. But of course, Karan was never satisfied. He plays his work like a game. Just another sport to break records with. Get the high score at one level, move on to the next, collect all of the rewards, leave destruction in your wake.

The CEO saw him wait around until his team member clocked out, only to kick his fucking teeth in in the parking lot for holding him back on his reports. It was decided that his talents would be better served at a higher level. One where that drive and deadly commitment to efficiency could make some real profit. That and the HR policies covered actual employees better than interns. So he got the job, no question. Along with a well negotiated 6 figure starting salary with stock options later down the line. Plus access to the 24 hour boxing gym on site so we could make sure we keep those interns for a little bit longer.

For Resources to help embody your Jock Journey you can check out the Jock Archetype guide for free on Patreon If you’d like to support the creation of files like the one in this story, or you’d like access to exclusive files and files earlier than the rest of the world, then please, Support me on Patreon, And go and follow me on Youtube for more files. Also be sure to Join me and my community on Discord.

[edosianorchids901]

We're In This Together

@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt - "found family"

“And don’t forget,” Satan said, flat black eyes pinning Crawley and the other demons in place. “We found each other even in the Pit, cast out from the light of Heaven. We’re all in this together.”

Crawley’s legs buckled as the gaze focused, the weight of Satan’s anger at the whole universe pressing down. Pain shot through Crawley, and he gritted his teeth.

Satan loomed closer to their group. “And anyone strays from our new path, we will find them again. We’re all a family now, and disloyalty will not be tolerated.”

Another wave of pain, a vicious threat. Bitterness rising, Crawley struggled to keep his expression neutral as they all chorused agreement. In Heaven, Satan had encouraged questions, challenging authority, stepping out of line. Now…

“And you, my darling little Crawley.” Satan approached him, and Crawley fell to his knees with a gasp of pain. “You’ve excelled at your duties, so you’ll be returning to Earth. But don’t make the mistake of thinking that you’re any less a part of this family.”

Crawley didn’t want to be part of any “family”. The Archangels had said similar shit, shortly before they kicked him into free fall for asking questions. Hell was no better. He just wanted to be on his own.

But he bowed his head, shivering. “Of course, my Lord. I’ll… keep excelling, yeah?”

“Of course you will. You know better than to disappoint me.” A fresh wave of anger, and Crawley whimpered. “Don’t you, darling?”

“Yeah, I… definitely don’t wanna disappoint you, or anyone else. I’ll just pop back to Earth, then. Get to work. Got loads of work to do, ideas of tempting things to… tempt people with.” Crawley tried to cut off the panicked babbling and failed. “You know how it is, all those ideas. Gotta try ‘em out, see what works. But the humans are being really fruitful, multiplying, all that jazz. Got plenty of people to test temptations on.”

Satan gave an indulgent laugh and patted Crawley on the head, eerily reminiscent of a human parent. Then, reminiscent of the worst human parents, he struck Crawley hard across the face.

Crawley slammed into cold stone, wheezing, tears welling. Blood trickled from his throbbing nose. He just laid there, waiting for Satan to move off and torment someone else.

No. He definitely did not want to be part of a family.

Crawley went back to Earth. He chose a spot under the shade of date palms, far enough away from any humans. Then he sank down to the sand, wrapped his arms around himself and pulled his knees up to his chest, and surrendered to the violent trembling that so often hit after visits to Hell.

His breaths turned quick and shivery, not drawing enough air. Tears stung his eyes again, and he huddled tighter. The trembling grew worse and worse, so convulsive that his teeth clacked together.

The rapid beat of his heart surged faster, racing. He rocked, desperate, gasping. “Nonono, please, please…”

There was never any help. There could never be any help. The price of keeping everyone at a distance, of staying safe, was that no one would ever help him.

He shook more and more violently, until he couldn’t even stay upright. Pain crushed his chest, and he crumpled onto his side. He curled tighter, tears pouring down his cheeks now, frantic sobs tearing loose.

“Crawley?”

Crawley tried to scramble away from the voice, but he only succeeded in sprawling more haphazardly in the sand. “Stay away from me! Get the fuck back!”

“Oh!” The voice sounded upset—and familiar. Aziraphale. “Oh, dear fellow, what’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“I don’t… I can’t… breathe.” The tears fell harder, and Crawley curled up again. His whole soul ached with longing to call out for help, but how could he? How could he trust anyone to help, even an angel who had always been kind to him? He wasn’t in it together, not with anyone.

But Aziraphale moved closer, sandals crunching across the sand. He sank to his knees in front of Crawley, kind face rumpled with concern. “May I help?”

Crawley opened his mouth to tell him to fuck off, and sobbed instead. “I don’t know. No one… ever helps…”

He bit off the words, bracing for a blow. Every time he’d been around anyone, seeming kindness quickly turned to unexplained cruelty. Especially when he was stupid enough to be vulnerable.

“Oh, you poor dear! Hush now. It’s okay.” Slowly, Aziraphale sat beside him. Crawley flinched. “I won’t harm you, shh. Here, why don’t you put your head in my lap? Or you can curl up here, and I could hold you?”

Crawley gave him a suspicious look. “Why?”

“It’s what humans do, when someone is scared. I-I like watching the families.” Aziraphale ducked his head a little, as if the admission made him embarrassed. “They always seem to like physical contact.”

Crawley’s only recent experience with physical contact was being struck or beaten for no damn reason. But something tugged at his heart as he listened to Aziraphale. “Sounds nice, but m’ kinda… frozen.”

“Oh! I’m sorry. It is an awfully chilly wind, isn’t it?” Aziraphale laid down beside him. Crawley flinched, but the violence never came. Instead, Aziraphale curled around him, holding him close. “There, how’s that? Warmer?”

Oh gosh, he was sweet. Crawley didn’t have the air to correct him, so he just nodded. Shuddering still wrenched through him, the terror of Hell too much to chase off even with help. He’d have to wait for it to subside on its own, like always.

But being held did feel better. Family might not be so bad, if it was made up of just the two of them.

[superheroesofbothuniverses]

Soulmates and Cheese Fries (Shieldshock)

Steve was spending a lot of time at the gym, partly because he was bored in his retirement, and partly because of her. He’d nearly fallen off the treadmill the first time the curvy brunette hopped up on the machine two down from him. He’d not been so bowled over by a woman in decades and it freaked him out. She’d winked at him, and he’d nodded dumbly back, forcing himself to return to his running with intense concentration.

She’d appeared regularly after that and though they’d shared several nods, smiles, and stares (the ogling was mutual, he’d found out, when he’d caught her staring at him lifting weights) neither had said a word yet and he was deeply invested in this interesting game.

Darcy had been in a bit of a slump since Jane’s death and had made a New Year’s Resolution to get active again, hoping that a regular routine plus endorphins would help. It had to be just her luck that she happened to pick the same gym frequented by the All American hunk, Steve Rogers.

She’d frozen for a second when she’d recognized him on the treadmill, but sternly put her inner fangirl in check and got to jogging, unable to help but admire the way his muscles moved when he ran. When they moved to the weight machines, she was too busy trying to not die of exertion (being this out of shape was no fun) to really notice anything around her, but as she was wiping down the leg press bench, she looked up and accidentally met his gaze as he was lifting an ungodly amount of weight. He smiled at her and she felt warm all over.

She spent a long time thinking (and dreaming) about said smile, but never struck up a conversation with her silent gym buddy. Darcy was pretty sure Natasha would have been deeply disappointed in her, but she was reluctant to risk her little private fantasy being destroyed.

Their silent interactions continued over the next several weeks and Darcy started winking back at Steve’s little smiles. She may or may not have googled his relationship status. Then one day, he didn’t show up and didn’t return all that week. Darcy felt strangely bereft and kicked herself over the missed opportunity. She spent Valentine’s Day working, then took the next day off to revel in National Single’s Awareness day, capped off by a trip to her favorite pub for a celebratory drink.

She was sipping and chatting to Gary the awesome bartender, when she heard someone slide onto a nearby stool.

“Hey, Steve. The usual?” Gary greeted and Darcy almost did a spit take at the sight of her gym crush, looking unfairly good in semi casual attire,

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish a few times and then she blurted: “Hey, gym buddy, here to celebrate National Single’s Awareness day? You have to try the cheese fries.”

Steve turned to her, looking so shocked she was wishing she’d kept her mouth shut, but then he grinned at her.

“I was hoping it would be you. I was kinda bummed you didn’t show today.”

They stared at each other and Gary looked back and forth between them.”

“You guys okay?” he asked.

Darcy turned her hand palm up to show them her words.

Gary’s eyebrows raised and he beamed proudly at them.

“Well, congrats! Should I put in an order of cheese fries?” he asked, winking at Steve, who nodded without taking his eyes off of his soulmate. Her eyes were so blue, he could drown in them.

She hopped off her stool and took the one next to him, looking him up and down with great excitement.

“I took today off for some self care, but the universe found a way. I’m Darcy Lewis, by the way: astrophysicist and friend of Thor.”

“And I’m Steve Rogers, cheese fries devotee and gym rat.” He shook her hand and she felt downright giddy. “You wouldn’t believe how many different places I’ve gone for cheese fries on February 15.”

Darcy laughed. “While I definitely wished mine were more specific, they were comforting. I knew I Wasn't going to be rejected by my Soulmate. Believe it or not, it does happen.”

“I’ve heard the stories,” Steve sighed. “But seeing my soulmark stay steady the last few years gave me hope when I didn’t have much. I kept expecting it to fade, but it didn’t.”

“I’m too stubborn to die,” Darcy shrugged. “Just like you.”

There was much flirting over the cheese fries and sharing of stories involving their mutual friends. Talking to Steve turned out to be much easier than Darcy had imagined. He was funny, sarcastic, and showed genuine interest when she was talking, which was incredibly refreshing.

“I was kind of afraid you weren’t coming back to the gym,” Darcy admitted. “I didn’t know it was possible to miss someone I hadn’t spoken to before.”

“Me neither,” Steve agreed, rooting for the cheesiest fry he could find. “But I did. I was visiting Sam and Bucky last week and kept thinking about you. I took the red eye back to get back here for the 15th, just so I could finally say something and find out where it went.”

“Awww,” Darcy crooned, giving him her best heart eye look as she grabbed a fry. “That’s so fluffy!!” She finished off the last of her drink then turned back to Steve.

“A couple more questions, Mr. America.”

“Fire away.”

“First one, where are your Words? Second, would it be way too forward of me to kiss you?”

She spun around on her stool and he caught her hands as she stopped, laughing dizzily.

“I can’t believe Captain Cutie is my soulmate!”

“You’re adorable,” Steve chuckled, beaming down at her. He hadn’t smiled this much in years and it was a glorious feeling.

“But to answer your questions, my Words are right here,” he pulled up his shirt briefly to show the loopy scrawl trailing down his left side.

“Also,” Steve tugged her closer, so their knees were touching, “I’m up for a kiss if you are, Dr. Lewis.”

She was, indeed, very up for it.