#i had an Insomnia Moment last night so im running on no sleep but feeling pretty okay tbh

[excadrill]

hello how are you all this morning ? :>

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

Connected ch4

pairing: chan x reader

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

word count: ~1.3k

warnings: none

an: this is a repost from my recently deceased blog hyunjins-orange-slice. may she rest in peace.

masterlist * previous chapter * next chapter

the nightmares returned that night. it was a never ending cycle of falling asleep, waking up crying, reaching for your phone to text chan, not wanting to bother him, and falling back asleep. when it was time to get up for work, you were exhausted and miserable. the thought of calling in crossed your mind, but then what would you do? sit at home all day and stare at your phone? you needed to go to work. you drug yourself out of bed and got ready.

“are you sleeping?”

his message came through as you were grabbing your keys to walk out the door. you were running a little behind and didn’t have time to contemplate whether you should answer him or not. so you shoved your phone in your pocket and headed on your way.

work was almost as miserable as your dreams and you couldn’t wait for it to be over. but at the same time, you had nothing better waiting for you at home. at least at home there was your bed, and music. so when it was finally time to clock out and you grabbed your bag and headed to your car.

“you busy?”

“i just can’t fall asleep.”

now you had nothing to do, so there’s no hiding from him. do you answer? last night you had convinced yourself that it was best if you just left him alone, didn’t bother him anymore. but these messages sounded as if he needed someone and you didn’t want to leave him all alone. you knew too well how that felt.

“no im not busy. just getting off work.”

“sorry you can’t sleep. can’t turn your brain off?”

you tossed your phone on the passenger seat and drove home. immediately upon arrival, you collapsed on your bed, pulling your pillow close to your chest, hugging it tightly. your phone vibrated against the sheets.

“too many thoughts.”

you understood that. there were some nights where you wanted to sleep so bad that you were brought to tears, unable to slip into unconsciousness. insomnia is rough. your heart broke for him.

“anything i can do to help you? want to call?”

‘that was brave’ you thought. normally you would never be the first one to suggest such a thing, but you really just wanted to help him.

“can we video call..? or is that too much?”

your stomach dropped. a video call? the thought of him being able to see you.. was terrifying. this is what you get for being brave and asking if he wanted to call.

“a video call is fine.”

your stomach was in knots, you were afraid you may be sick.

“okay but don’t make fun of the way i look. ㅋㅋㅋ”

you rolled your eyes. this man. but it made you feel a little better. it was comforting to know that you weren’t the only one who was nervous about the way they looked.

your phone started buzzing in your hand, ‘incoming video call’ filled the screen. you held your breath and accepted.

and there he was.

he was clearly in bed, surrounded by covers, his natural curly hair falling in his eyes, his bare face peeking out at you from behind the blanket. he was so cute. he looked so cuddly and sleepy.

“you look comfy."

he laughed. his laugh had quickly become one of your favorite sounds and you were discovering that it was even better when you could see his face. it made you smile.

“so do you.”

you realized your posture almost mirrored his, but instead of peeking out from behind the blanket, you were peeking out from behind your pillow.

the silence filled the room.

“i’m nervous.” you confessed.

“me too.” he said, chuckling.

“i’m sorry you can’t sleep. i know that really sucks.”

“that’s okay. you’re helping me.”

“are you saying that i’m putting you to sleep?” you joked.

he smiled and shook his head. “you’re relaxing me.”

“am i boring you, chan?” you laughed.

he was quiet for a moment, smiling. “do that again.” he said.

“do- do what again?”

“laugh like that.” you blushed. “i’ve always really liked your laugh. but it’s somehow better when i can see you.” he confessed.

you didn’t know whether to cry, throw your phone, pass out, or all of the above.

“your cheeks are red.” he pointed out. you hid behind the pillow. “hey hey, don’t hide.” he laughed. “i think you’re adorable.”

you could feel the warmth radiating off of your face. you decided a change of subject was necessary.

“so.. you’re coming to america?” you asked.

“yeah. here in a couple months. not for like a tour or anything but for a photo shoot and a couple interviews.”

“oh that’s cool. so i guess you won’t be here long then.”

“i’m afraid not. we’ll only be there for like 2 or 3 days and then we fly back.”

you just nodded. unsure of what to say next.

“i.. i uh.. i asked if we could make a pit stop in chicago.” he says, nervously. he was avoiding looking into the camera, suddenly finding a loose string on his pillowcase very interesting.

“really?” your face was hot again and your stomach was doing gymnastics.

“yeah. i thought maybe if you weren’t busy..” his sentence trailed off, never reaching its end.

“you want me to come to chicago?” you asked.

“only if you have time. only if you want to.” he said quickly. “no pressure or anything.”

“and all of the boys will be there..?” you asked, suddenly nervous. meeting chan was of course nerve wracking in itself. but meeting all eight of them? and the staff? you weren’t sure if you could handle that without a panic attack.

“yeah. but you don’t have to meet everyone if you don’t want to. you don’t even have to come if you don’t want to.” he cleared his throat a little. “i just.. i just wanted to meet you and the opportunity presented itself.. so i thought..”

“i would love to meet you, chan.” you reassured him. “but meeting you is scary and meeting everyone.. i think might be too much.”

“it can just be me then. you can meet every one else some other time. no need to be scared, i promise.” he smiled, his dimples making an appearance and you silently swooned. ‘get it together’ you told yourself.

“okay. just you sounds perfect.” you smile and fight the urge to kick your feet and giggle. what even is your life? what is happening?

“great.” he yawns. “i can’t wait.”

you chuckled. “are you sleepy?”

“mm” he answered, nodding.

“i can let you get some rest. i’ll talk to you tomorrow.” you suggested.

“no!” he said quickly, afraid you were going to suddenly hang up like last time. “don’t go. tell me about your day. how was work?”

you smiled. you settled deeper into your mattress, cuddling closer to the phone. “work was work.” you started. “i kind of hate my job.” he was quiet, so you continued. “i guess it’s not the job i hate, it’s the people i work with. they’re just not very nice.”

he was still silent, his eyes closed, his breathing deep. “chan?” you whispered. you were answered by the cutest softest snoring sound. he was definitely asleep. you couldn’t contain your smile. “goodnight, channie.” you whispered. but instead of hanging up, you placed the phone down on the bed and closed your eyes, falling asleep in the middle of the day to the soft sound of his breathing and his occasional snore.

taglist: @thinkingaboutlana @tamlinsfiddle (red means it wouldnt let me tag you, to be added or removed just let me know.)

🚨reminder: this blog is 18+ only. i’ve been getting a lot of new followers (which i greatly appreciate) but if there’s no age identifier on your blog, i’m blocking you no questions asked. (for my own sanity and peace of mind.) ik some people don’t actually go to my page to read the warnings, so im going to start attaching a warning at the bottom of all my posts. thanks for understanding. 💕

[puppygirlirl]

"i need to figure out why i have such bad insomnia recently it's becoming a real issu-" (the sleep deprivation finally reaches the core of my brain and consumes the last crumbs of my sanity) "...there's clearly only one answer, im becoming a vampire and i hunge-" (imagines a homoerotic scene of me biting a girls neck while we embrace each other tighter than either of us have ever felt before) "ii might need to go to a ddoctor actually i dont feel very go-" (an image of me dying in bed as the love of my love cups my face forces its way into my mind, she leans in for one last kiss and-

before the thought ends i collapse to the ground dead, rats swarm my body and instantly turn my corpse into a perfectly cleaned skeleton. the audience claps, the children scream in terror, and my wife watches on with tears in her eyes, knowing i didn't want it to be this way in the end.

she mourns for a couple of months, cry's when she smells pumpkin spice for the first time since i died. "it was always her favorite" she thinks, looking down at the overpriced latte she got to feel like i might still be there, even if it's just for a second. the feeling is fleeting, and just leaves her hollow again. nothing could replace the woman she loved, especially not some shitty coffee.

after a beat of staring into the cup she was holding a bit too tight, a tear dripped into the foam, then another, then so many she couldn't really see the coffee anymore. a rage washed over her, why her, why her wife. "those fucking rats, she didn't deserve this" she thinks as her hand finally tightens just too much, crushing the foam container in her hand. it burns a little, but she doesn't really notice. it all just hurt too much. it wasn't fair. none of this was fair.

the papers keep hailing the whole situation as "the best performance art ever done", praising the brave girl for sacrificing herself for her art, losing everything just to put across such a striking message. the truth though was that none of it was planned. she knew her wife's death wasn't on purpose, the stress must have gotten to her. those long sleepless nights where that driven, stupid girl would stay up to get her routine just right, being begged to come to bed and get some rest just to ignore her for the sake of her art.

the anger shifted to her late wife. "it was so preventable, if she only took care of herself, you fucking idiot, why'd you have to leave like this." her thoughts kept racing, none of this made sense. they both should have been happy together, they should be cuddling on their couch together watching 60's horror movies and laughing at the bad acting. they should be safe in each others arms. they should be together. but they weren't. they never would be again.

there's a part of her that wonders if it was on purpose. if she died just to put on such a big show. immortalizing herself as a martyr for the people, a grim showing of what the world has come to, and what it takes for people to be entertained even if it kills the artist in the process, literally consumed by the rats begging for whatever scraps of life they can get. it doesn't really matter, the outcome doesn't change. she's alone now, and she had to deal with that.

suddenly, i burst out from behind the counter of the cafe and scream "GOTCHA!!". fireworks go off around me, everyone in the cafe begins losing their minds, i was alive the whole fuckin time.

initially, my wife screams in confusion and fear at the visage of her wife she's presumed was rotting in the ground for months at this point, but slowly, her expression softens. the room goes silent for a moment, and a shaky smile washes over her face. she walks up to me with tears still staining her cheeks, and cups my face, just like in the last vision i had. her hands move down slowly to my throat, and before i can react, she starts squeezing.

she was always stronger then me, but even with the pure adrenaline running through my veins, i couldn't get her hands to budge. the acrylic nails she got the day before were digging into my skin, drawing blood and making the sensation even more terrifying. the smile never left her face, it just got stronger. a giggle escaped from her pained smirk, then a full on chuckle. my vision started to go blurry as my hands weakly push her away, and her laugh grows louder and stronger. i looked her in the eyes one more time as the light left my own, and all i saw was rage. "what did i do so wrong" was the last thought that crossed my mind as the lack of oxygen finally shut me off for good, and i dropped to the ground. the rats come back, and clean my corpse once more.

the restaurant erupts in cheers and laughter, "she did it again!" they holler, already posting videos of the event to social media. my wife drops to the ground, holds my bones close and sobs, praying that the rats take her this time too.

[huebris808]

Dr. Hofnarr’s Horrible, No-Good, Very Weird 15 Years Of Being Dead.

a tribute to fanon interpretations/character study(?) that was going to be a bonus chapter in a post-canon/au comedy fic im working on! might come back to expand on this when i do start posting it (or if mpn gives him more background story lore that i’ll have to work with aoAHGHOAUGH)

happy madness day! :o)

“Where should I begin… Perhaps at the very beginning? OH! Christoff and I first met years before our Nexus days! Back in our freshman years of college, to be precise! You know, I was actually a theater major before switching to- ... A-Aah, too far back. Much too far... Let’s start from the point where the notes I supplied to you ended then, shall we? After our dissension...”

.. “Good luck, old friend...” ..

The first years on the run from Nexus was stressful to say the least. Hofnarr and Christoff had split up to better their chances of survival. He knew the process would be grueling, having talked to Christoff almost every night about it to calm his nerves. While he played calm for the cameras, Hofnarr truly wished he could have held him close one last time. No communications. No physical contact. Day after day, month after month, nothing. He would be separated from his husband for a very long time…

It wasn’t all bad after a while. He had a comfortable new apartment, went under a new alias, and his questionable new job paid him enough to buy food. His apartment even had cable! He could watch marathons of Slaughter Time whenever he got home! In hindsight, he wondered if that had an effect on his mental state at the time...

Hofnarr had taken the last of his S3LF regulator with him, having shipped them out to an undisclosed location prior to dissension. Dissonance exposure did a number on him and his research team, leaving them to track their “normality” through daily blood tests and injections. While they met their fates early on, Hofnarr had gotten lucky. That is, until the doses began to run out.

Stressful as it was, he knew what he had to do. Hofnarr rushed back to what remained of the labs, knowing it had been abandoned by now. It was ironic, he and Christoff’s work, the work that was turned against them, was the one thing keeping him alive. For days, he worked to make more doses from the materials he brought with him. But there was only so much he could do with limited supplies… Hofnarr made many attempts to prolong the inevitable, lowering his dosage amount, injecting it weekly rather than daily, but he eventually ran dry. 

Refusing to turn to darker alternatives, he felt the only thing he could do at this point is record his final findings through video logs.

“It was… interesting revisiting the footage, to put it nicely. Christoff had actually kept the video files on a drive after he originally found all my things in the lab! I barely remembered what happened back then, so I rewatched them out of curiosity.”

On the first night, Hofnarr recorded a message for Christoff. One filled with sorrow, but also with gratitude. For the time that they spent together. How special he made him feel. All the memories they made together...

On the next, he recorded a log detailing his findings during Project Nexus. The effects of dissonance, the Other Place, what it did to him and his colleagues, everything and anything he could.

The next, he reported on the progression of his symptoms. Fever, brain fog, insomnia, joint pain. He felt like his organs were melting, his skin bursting at the seams.

The next night he saw something and remembered. Scars. The scars on his head. That week he was in the staff hospital. He thought it was a dream but the scars were there. Phobos. Director Phobos brought him somewhere that week. He knew he felt off when he woke up in the office that night. He knew something was off when Christoff asked him where he was. He thought he passed out from over-working. That bastard Phobos. Nausea was replaced with rage as he began to scream, his throat becoming raw. What did he put in him? What the hell did he put inside him!?

On the last recorded log, he was face-down on the ground. Groaning as his body occasionally convulsed. Until the video feed eventually cut off.

His body would lay there dormant, dead, for fifteen years. 

But to Hofnarr, he felt like he was dreaming.

.. “LET’S GIVE IT UP FOR OUR NEXT CONTESTANT!” ..

“Huh?” The doctor sat up and looked around, the area around him pitch black. Wasn’t he sleeping just a moment ago? He got up and took a step forward in the seemingly endless void. “H-Hello? Who’s out there?”

“AWW, DON’T BE SHY NOW! ESTEEMED AUDIENCE, A BIG ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR OUR GUEST; THE UNFORTUNATE DOCTOR HOFNARR!”

A light shined down on him from above. A crowd seemingly began to cheer all around him. He was in the center of what looked like a talk show set. Hofnarr awkwardly scratched the corner of his face. “‘Unfortunate’? W-What do you mean? W-Who are you?”

“FIGHT FIRST, ASK QUESTIONS LATER!” The voice above him called out again. “AFTER ALL, IT’S…!” Hofnarr drowned out the noise while trying to think. It sounded familiar. Like it came from…

Hofnarr’s thoughts were cut short. He looked down at his torso. Terror set in as he recognized an entire stop sign had been lodged through his chest.

“DON’T GET COLD FEET NOW! THE SHOW’S ONLY JUST BEGUN!” 

The words echoed in Hofnarr’s mind as he frantically tried to pull it out, his vision growing muddled, his hands slipping with blood until…

He blinked.

No stage. No sound. No pain.

Nothing around except for a single white door in front of him.

He stood up again, cautiously reaching for the doorknob.

When he entered he seemed to be in a vintage styled home. It was a kitchen with checkerboard flooring, a table with two chairs, and cheerful music playing through a small radio. It smelled of pastry and medical equipment. Suddenly, there was a knock coming from the door. A familiar voice called from behind it.

“I’m home, dear.” “J-Jeb?!”

Hofnarr rushed towards the front door. Christoff wasn’t trapped here too, was he? “Jeb! W-where are we!? What is this place? What happened to-”

As he opened the door, the clapping returned.

His husband was there, briefcase in hand, his face replaced with a black hole dripping with an unknown inky substance.

He slowly began to back away as “Jeb” moved closer.

The applause, the laughter, was deafening.

Before he could question or run away, Hofnarr was hit by something. His vision blurred, but refocused to be face-to-face with something. It seemed to be a shadow of himself. He tried to run again, but was pinned down by his doppelganger. The clone raised a clawed hand above him and then...

Like waking from a nightmare, Hofnarr quickly sat up once again. He gasped for air, dripping with cold sweat.

Was this really happening? Was it finally over? Was he free?

And then the spotlight focused on him again.

“It… got very surreal. Despite fight after fight, death after painful death... I would suddenly be somewhere else! There was a gameshow, our old apartment, a cat cafe, a... strip club of sorts, a tea room filled with these small armless doodles I used to draw on my research notes trying to offer me snacks… One time there was a sort of singing contest, but I won’t bore you with the details of that one. But when I wasn’t in those places, I felt like I was fighting for my life. It felt like an eternity! And the strangest part of it all? It… it became addicting.”

At first, he felt as if Hofnarr used all of his energy, physical and emotional, to fight back. It reminded him too much of his escape from Nexus. But as time went on, he focused less on escaping and more on surviving. The more he fought, the more he began to lose himself. He was anticipating what sudden whiplash of combat would be thrown at him next. He chuckled at the thought of what excitement would be heading his way. He wanted more. The fights became too slow. Too predictable. Too boring. He began toying with whatever was thrown at him. Turning his shadowy hunters into the hunted. Why let his audience watch the same old fights all the time?

Suddenly, the fighting stopped.

Why? 

He was having fun, wasn’t he? He grew impatient.

“WHAT’S THE HOLD UP!” He yelled into the void, seething with anger. “AREN’T WE SUPPOSED TO BE FIGHTING? ISN’T THAT WHAT I’M HERE FOR?!”

He stomped his foot down, lodging something out of the ground.

The stop sign.

He looked over it curiously. How familiar…

Grabbing hold of it, quick flashes of memories appeared to him.

Nexus, the Science Tower, Phobos, the Other Place… 

A man with long hair standing next to...

Hofnarr… 

Who was that? Was that him?

No…

Only Tricky remained.

Footsteps echoed throughout the halls of the abandoned lab. Heels quickly clicking, cautiously stopping every so often. A lone Nexus Core agent entered through one of the doors.

Perfect timing.

“HAY! YOU THERE!!” A voice stuttered and glitched out, reverberating through the emptiness of the lab. The quickly soldier whipped their head around. “YEAH! YOU, STUPID. PLAY WITH ME!!”

“Who’s there?” The agent pointed their magnum towards the noise. “Show yourself!”

Gladly. The cackling figure emerged from the shadows, posing with a peace-sign, causing the agent to recoil. He grinned, slowly moving towards the cowering goon on the ground. They wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Who are you!?”

They couldn’t kill him.

“FIGHT FIRST. ASK QUESTIONS LATER! AFTER ALL…” 

CAN’T KILL CLOWN.

“IT’S MURDER TIME!”

..

“My body had been there, regenerating and repeating the enmeshment process for years. And by the time I woke up, I was a completely different person. I became a creature of unfiltered impulse… A personification of chaos itself.”

The room grew silent before Hofnarr spoke up again.

“I-Is it horrible to say it was… kind of cool?” He said with a nervous chuckle, twiddling his fingers.

2BDamned was quiet for a moment. They recalled the many times they had to stitch their comrades back together due to Clown Moments. They placed their head in their palms and let out a sigh.

“... You have the right to your own opinion.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BONUS: songs i was listening to on loop while working on this instead of doing my damned writing assignment. Enjoy

lady gaga ft. dorian electra - replay

vestik - tricky's vengeance ft. monocronic

[oddaodd]

Concern in Painting

· Tommy Shelby snaps at his wife´s concern ·

Warnings: A bit of angst. 

The sound of the car pulling up the driveway and the lights that shone through the window at such an unholy hour at night indicated his arrival. She hadn’t meant to stay awake so late, but her concern for him had been on the rise and it chased her sleep away. A few moments later she heard the sound of his footsteps making their way his study shortly after the sound of the main door closing shut. Y/n sighed deeply. Business was booming and it took a toll on him. Y/n painfully watched as he deteriorated without daring to interfere, knowing that Tommy needed to keep his mind busy as much as he needed to breathe. Nevertheless, she thought enough was enough, she couldn’t just stand by leaving him to deal with everything on his own. She put away her paint and brushes and gave one last look (for the night) at the painting she had started at the dawn that night´s insomnia. She then went downstairs to the kitchen to get some biscuits, knowing that it was more than likely that he hadn’t eaten all day.  She silently walked to his study and allowed herself in without pausing to knock. 

“Hi” she softly said, not wanting to commit sacrilege by disrupting the peaceful silence that filled the room. 

He looked up to see her for just a second and then resumed writing what y/n assumed were letters, merely muttering a “hello” of his own.

Y/n made her way to the side of his desk and placed the plate of biscuits next to the glass of whiskey that was always a staple wherever he was, before perching herself on the desk.

“You need to eat something, love. The maids baked these earlier today” 

“Thanks” he said, eyes still glued to his writings, not really paying attention to anything she had said. 

She quickly eyed what he was writing, not because she was nosy, but because it had been so long since Tommy had last shared any details about what he did for most of the day. Her eyes widened a bit to see that he was indeed writing letters and that the one he was writing at that very moment was addressed to Winston Churchill. 

“Whatever are you writing a letter to Churchill for?” She couldn’t help but to ask. 

“Business” was his short answer. 

“What kind of business?” She pressed.

“Just business”  he replied in a somehow annoyed tone that he had never used before on her. 

She tried not to let his tone sting, to no avail. Silence filled the room for a few moments as thoughts about what to say next filled Y/n´s head. Years of knowing the man had taught her that it was best to leave him be when he wanted to be alone, but her concern for his well being prevented her from doing just that. 

“Tommy” she warned in a rare softness laced with worry and the tiniest  amount of hurt. 

He didn’t acknowledge it though, he just kept writing. Y/n sighed and put her hand on top of his, the one that was resting atop of the letter to Churchill, not the one writing it. 

“Thomas” she tried again, rubbing her thumb on the back of his hand 

The use of his name made him look up at her. She wished he hadn’t, for the look on his face was that of annoyance. 

“What?” 

She didn’t want to be annoying, but his state worried her more than the worry of being annoying did. “Why don’t you come to bed? Its late.” 

He sighed and turned his attention back to the letter. “Im busy.” 

“I´m sure you can write that tomorrow.” she hesitantly reassured him.

He didn’t reply, so she went on. “I´m worried about you Tom. You barely sleep, you barely eat, you don’t even talk to me anymore, not really anyhow and…”

“Look Y/n” he interrupted, turning his full attention to her, in a less than caring tone  “I have a business to run, if you don’t like it then leave.” 

She could have never anticipated his answer and it hit her like a ton of bricks. Her eyes watered and her lips parted a bit in unpleasant surprise at both his tone and harsh words. Tommy saw it, but still he did nothing and went back to writing. She then decided not to push him any further and left the room. She walked upstairs and into one of the many spare rooms, being too distraught to sleep in the bed Tommy and she shared despite knowing very well the prospect of him visiting the room was more than unlikely. 

She knew how important his business was and understood the priority, but for a while ( ever since marrying Tommy to be precise) she had allowed herself to believe she mattered as much to him as business. Tommy’s small acts of love backing up her beliefs in days that seemed long gone; all replaced now with indifference towards her that left her with a profound uncertainty about everything and anything. For the past few months he had started pushing her away, allowing her less and less to be involved in anything related to business, making her feel like a total stranger. Still, the deep concern she felt for the man she loved overpowered the betrayal she felt at his words and she couldn’t help it but to mentally forgive him before falling asleep. 

She woke up the next morning feeling alienated of the events from the previous night. Had it all really happened, Or had it been it just a dream? Her mental questions were instantly answered when she realized she awoke in one of the spare rooms. Still not fully awake, She started thinking about the day ahead of her, how very dull it seemed. She avoided Tommy (who oddly enough was still at home ) all morning, not knowing for sure how she should act around him anymore. 

After breakfast, she found safe haven in the library where her unfinished painting from the previous night awaited her with open arms. With each stroke of the brush against the canvas she felt herself floating away and, entering in some sort of peaceful trance which was only broken with the sound of the library door opening a few moments later.  

Y/n knew it was him, but she didn’t dare to look at him. She heard his footsteps coming closer till he was standing behind her and her stool. 

“Looks beautiful”  came his voice. 

“Thanks”  

She then stood up and decided to turn around to look at him, knowing the only reason he was home during the day was that he wanted to talk. When her eyes met his tired ones, he felt a pang of guilt. He could see concern and sadness painted on her face and he knew he had to make it right. 

“I didn’t mean to snap last night” he confessed. 

“I know” she said, barely a whisper.  

“I¨m sorry” he sighed, holding her hands in his. 

“You don’t have to take care of everything on your own, you know?”  She stated  before wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his chest. She sighed happily as she felt his arms wrapping around her, making her feel at home for the fist time in wha thad seemed for ever. “I hate what you’re doing to yourself, it’s killing me to see you fade away.” 

“I´ll take care” he promised.

“Let me help” she pleaded. 

He pulled away to look at her eyes before kissing her softly, hoping with all his might that he never would regret letting her back in by endangering her “Alright Mrs. Shelby” 

[smoochkooks]

— lost stars, part 1 (m.)

⟶ pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

⟶ genre: smut, angst, (troubled) idol au, childhood friends to lovers

⟶ word count: 20k

⟶ summary: in dead hours of the night he stumbles upon the bars, reaching, searching, trying to feel something, for once forget about consequences and taste the bittersweet freedom. between sips of addiction and faint touches of nameless lovers he finds you again: his own long-lost star on a blackboard sky.

⟶ warnings for part one: explicit sexual content, dom!jungkook, rough sex, oral (m receiving), fingering, dirty talk, degradation, light breath play, unprotected sex, infidelity, mentions of mental health issues, smoking, drinking etc., this is sad im sorry

⟶ music: lost stars, young god, the hills and more here. 

PART TWO (FINALE): HERE!

Jungkook can’t sleep.

Moonlight is gradually slipping through the unveiled curtains that he hasn’t even bothered shutting out for the night, letting the silvery luminescences gleam over the expanses of his room callously. It's the first full moon of the month, an argent king on the cloudless sky preventing many people that particular night from falling asleep.

Jungkook lays on his bed, long body slumped on unmade, messy sheets. Brightness illuminates over his features, making his skin glow in porcelain white. Every edge of him is chiseled. From his thin lips, through the slope of his nose and paleness of his forehead, Jungkook might be a beautiful imitation of a marble sculpture. Although he isn't, heaviness of his limbs and suffocating pressure weighting down on his chest like tons of rocks make him feel like one.

Digital clock on his bedside table reads midnight, four red zeros signaling change of the date. It's so painfully silent in the confines of his room, yet Jungkook doesn't sleep. And it's not because of some scientificly proven theory connecting insomnia to the full moon. He hasn't shifted on his bed since he laid there an hour or so ago. He stares blankly at the ceiling, inhaling the chilly air of March flowing inside through the open window. There is without a doubt too cold to lie uncovered like that, with bare legs and thin t-shirt thrown on, but he doesn't seem to care, not when shivers run down his arms, not when the sudden puff of wind blows the strands of raven hair off from his forehead. He stays like that, hands folded on his stomach, eyes glued to the silver lights on the ceiling, and time ticks.

Jungkook doesn't remember when was the last time he has gotten some good amount of sleep in the night. Perhaps it was a year or two ago, when after particularly hectics days it took him only a few seconds to fall into the peaceful slumber as soon as his cheek met the cool material of his pillow. A lot of has changed since that; it's bitterly oblivious he has changed too. His insomniac tendencies are only a small part of the whole spectrum.  

Jungkook doesn't wish the sleep to come and cure him. He has stopped a long time ago, when he realised it's just pointless. There are times when it gets better, when he doesn't need to nap uncontrollably during the day instead of doing that while it's dark out. Tonight seems like one of those dead end situations. Maybe after a few hours his eyes will tire out enough to flutter shut on their own accord and bring him the awaited couple of hours of mindless numbness, and the sun will raise again, as it always does.

However, that night, like many of them before, Jungkook doesn't wait helplessly.

A sigh and a minute later, he kicks off the sheets and stands up from his bed, walking to the nearby closet. He puts on the first pair of black jeans he manages to find and replaces his worn out t-shirt he wears to sleep with a new, fresh one. He flicks the lights on for a brief moment to examine himself briefly in the mirror. He needs haircut, loose strands are falling on his forehead and he swamps them off, running his fingers through the black locks. He looks even more tired in the artificial lighting of his room, definitely not like the marble sculpture, certainly not like the spot-on idol this country loves and admires. The skincare products his stylists have given him to put on his face everyday are doing a quite good job, but not good enough to fully hide the bangs underneath his eyes. This kind of magic only stage makeup can provide.  

Now, Jungkook looks painfully ordinary. He isn't Jeon Jungkook of BTS, he doesn't want to be during nights like this one. That's why he fishes out of the drawer his black mask and puts it in the pockets of his denim jacket. There is probably too cold outside to go out dressed like that, but Jungkook doesn't falter.

He doesn't falter opening the door to his room and stepping into the dark hallway of the dorm. He doesn't falter putting on his shoes as silently as he can. He doesn't falter reaching for the knob to the main door and twisting it. Even if he has promised he won't do that again, that the last time when he came home at ungodly hour, smelling of sleazy bars and cheap alcohol, with faint reminiscences of the touches of nameless lovers on his skin, was truly last.  

Even if the pang of guilt is still there, at the back of his head, when he exhales the air of the night, it fades away.

If someone ever asked Jeon Jungkook to describe freedom, he would say it smells like Bongcheon Underground Station.  

He’s never been there before or at least he doesn’t remember doing it. The sign indicates it’s the line number two, a green one to be more exact. He doesn’t know in which part of the city he is, maybe half an hour away from the luxurious housing estate he lives in with the rest of the boys, maybe further. At some point during the train ride he's lost the track of time.  

It’s probably irresponsible, careless, unwise and stupid to be a widely-known figure using public transportation in the middle of the night completely alone, but this run-down underground station in Jungkook's head is his own manifesto of mock freedom, consequences to be damned.

Jungkook knows he's risking a lot right now. The sick thirl is already there, boiling the blood in his veins. This is all he has; the mirage of liberty, his own revolt against the unfairness of the world. His testament of lost youth.

Before someone will see him standing on the platform and staring ahead of himself with blank eyes like a mad man, he decides to walk out of the station.  

A young couple around his age passes him on the stairs and he can’t help but spare a glance in their direction. They aren’t aware of his presence, holding onto each other and giggling drunkily. Something squeezes in Jungkook’s chest at the sight. It’s not any kind of jealousy, no. He’s grown up from being a rebel teenager. He’s grown up from the dreams of college parties, going on dates with pretty girls and having late-night snacks with his friends after gaming sessions.

Now Jungkook is just angry. Someone may say he doesn’t have the right to, he has everything an ordinary twenty-two year-old can desire. Yet, Jungkook is the one calling the world unfair while being on top of it.

There is a poster with his face hanging just above the entrance to the station. He stops in his tracks, scoffing cynically. Poster-Jungkook, spot-on idol from the biggest boyband in the country smiles at him, showing a row of blindingly white teeth. He has a face cream in his right hand, the softness of his photoshopped face and boyish glint in the eyes trick thousands of people into buying whatever he recommends.

What would Poster-Jungkook say seeing him now, Jungkook wonders. Barefaced, with mask covering half of his features, ruffled hair that he should have hidden underneath a cap. Poster-Jungkook probably wouldn’t like to make friends with someone like him. Poster-Jungkook is here to sing his heart out, to entertain fans and make his parents proud. Poster-Jungkook has never been at Bongcheon Underground Station.  

With one last glance, Jungkook exits the station, stepping into the streets of Seoul.

The clock on his lockscreen reads 1am, Saturday, March 21th. He reaches to his face, pulling the mask down a little to inhale the chilly air. The smell of nearby Chinese restaurant reminds him it’s definitely a terrible idea to drink on an empty stomach but he shrugs off this thought, walking ahead of himself, with no plan in mind.

It’s not everyday he uses underground to travel around the city like most citizens do. Ironically, this mundane thing is a luxury he normally can’t afford. But nighttime has it’s own rules.

Using his car isn’t a debatable option when he knows he's going to distract himself with numerous sips of alcohol later. He cannot use taxi as well. Not when he hates having small talks with middle-aged men while being half-wasted, half-asleep on the backseat, head buzzing, world spinning. In worst case scenarios, the said taxi driver might be a dad of one of his fans.  

(Yes, it happened before. It caused a lot for Jungkook's intoxicated brain to make up some silly story and convince the poor man he was coming home from his friend's birthday party, not running away from his one night stand's place.)

Asking one of their personal drivers to lift him up somewhere won’t do any good too because one: it definitely isn’t an emergency situation, although Jungkook would most likely argue it kind of is and two: going out in the night is too risky and most importantly, strictly forbidden for him since the last time Jimin found him unconscious on their doormat.  

He wants to laugh at himself, remembering the very first time he tried to sneak out of the dorm without permission.

He was merely eighteen back then and his friend from Busan came to Seoul to celebrate his acceptance into the university. Of course, teenage Jungkook had asked for approval like the well-raised young man he was. That’s impossible, Jungkook, was the answer and I really hadn’t seen that friend for a long time, please, wasn’t enough to change minds and melt hearts. And that was when eighteen-year-old Jungkook decided it was the final straw. He had enough of watching snapshots from his friends, living their teen years to the fullest. He wanted to live too.

He had planned everything in details. Namjoon and Yoongi were at the studio, Hoseok was visiting his family in Gwangju, Seokjin went to sleep early, Jimin and Taehyung were playing video games in their room. All occurrences seemed to be on his side. Until they weren’t.

He announced to everyone he wasn’t feeling well and locked himself inside his room. He waited for the right moment, then opened the door and peeked his head out. It was dead quiet, beside muffled bursts of laughter coming from the other end of the hallway where Taehyung and Jimin were still playing. Holding his breath, Jungkook tiptoed to the entrance.

It felt so electrifying back then, when he took the handle into his hand and pushed, doing something that he wasn’t supposed to. When he found himself taking the cab to his hyung’s place, fingers drumming the unknown rhythm of excitement on his jean-clad thighs.  

It doesn’t feel like that anymore. There’s a rush of adrenaline but not the good kind. What was once a silly rebellion of a boy with romantic soul, is now nothing but a routine.

That night didn’t turn out as he wished. It ended with him getting wasted to the point he had to call Seokjin to pick him up. He still remembers the furious scolding the older one gave him. He remembers how he promised it was a one-time thing, how he regretted his childish actions and irresponsibility.

But it happened again and again. And it got only worse over the years.  

Jungkook keeps marching ahead of himself, looking around the unfamiliar neighborhood. It's a more industrial part of the city; it doesn’t look like leafy, peaceful area he lives in. He can only imagine how the flats inside those buildings look like - cramped, cluttered. Maybe they look just like their old dorm when he was merely sixteen, with head full of dreams, sleeping every night on a bunk bed underneath Taehyung.

Upon seeing a fluorescent, red neon sign, he stops in his tracks. The club looks nice from the outside and even though it stopped being an indicator for Jungkook some time ago, he decides to step inside with the same goal in mind as usual: get drunk and then leave.

Loud, thumping music fills his ears as soon as he enters the building. He passes the mass of nameless silhouettes, heading straight to the bar and slumping down on one of the stools.  

“What can I get you?”  

Jungkook looks up, meeting the eyes of friendly-looking bartender who seems not to recognize him or just doesn’t give a fuck. Both options are more than anticipated when you’re a well-know celebrity who decided to get drunk on a Friday night.

“Doesn’t matter. Just give me something strong.”  

Bartender nods in understanding and Jungkook sees him reaching for the bottle of whiskey and pouring the substance into a glass already filled with ice cubs.  

I don’t even like whiskey, Jungkook realizes. But at the same time he knows he hasn’t come here to sample. He’s here to let loose, to taste the bittersweet freedom this umber alcohol provides and represents. Each sip burns his throat stronger, yet it’s always welcomed.

After the third glass, his head starts buzzing. The world spins a little when he closes his eyes; everything becomes a blurr of colors, shapes and sounds. It’s should be a sign to slow down but Jungkook automatically raises his hand to bartender, ordering another glass.  

He hasn’t even registered he’s not alone by the bar anymore.  

She’s pretty. Maybe not exactly his type, whether he has one or not, but he can’t help but spare a glance anyway. Even in his drunken state he notices she’s a foreigner; blonde locks are cascading down her back and shoulders, milky skin glowing in the fluorescent lights. He doesn’t see her face clearly yet, but he observes in the corner of his eye as she bites her plump, cherry-coloured lips, while staring down at her empty glass.  

Then, his eyes wander lower, to the smooth column of her throat, her provident collarbones and rich  décolltage. Her black dress doesn’t do quite good job covering her cleavage and Jungkook has to swallow at the sight.  

He’s fucked, buzzed and that irritating, tiny voice at the back of his head is telling him to get his shit together but every rational thought is wiped off his mind when the girl whirls around and faces him fully now. She smiles at him, or his blurry eyes are deceiving him already. Nevertheless, he smiles back at her dumbly, doing his best to maintain the enigmatic façade.

“Hi.” he says.

It’s not the first time he’s hitting on a foreign woman. It’s very much asshole of him, but he thinks it’s easier to get laid that way. In most cases he’s not the one to start a conversation, yet this time, here he is.  

“Hi, stranger.” she answers and licks her lips languidly. The raw eroticism dripping from it makes Jungkook shift on his seat. If she wants to play this game, he’s ready to make another move.  

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks. It’s so goddamn blunt and brusque, but always works. Something about his flat English and the way he subtly smirks saying it makes women intrigued.  

She contemplates for a moment, batting her eyelashes at him until she eventually agrees. “Yes, sure.”  

He waves at the bartender, slurring his words a little. He hears the girl giggle and somehow, his next words leave his lips without a second thought.

“You like Korea?”  

She’s very talkative when she’s drinking, Jungkook notices. The question seemed to elicit something in her and she started babbling, spitting her words so fast he couldn’t catch up even if he wasn’t drunk (and knew English better). All this time he smiles at her, nodding his head and occasionally muttering “yeah” and “oh” whenever he feels like it’s the right moment.  

At some point his eyes wander to the other part of the club, where the sign shows the way to the bathroom. The girl takes a sip of her drink, showing a row of her perfectly white teeth when she catches him staring at her. And at this moment, Jungkook decides is time to interfere.

He leans closer to her, his hand ever so slightly brushing the place where the material of her dress meets her thigh. She bites her lip, waiting for his another move. Jungkook is now mere inches from her face, lust swimming in his orbs when he whispers, “You’re so beautiful.”  

She says something to him but he doesn’t register it. His hand is now fully placed on her thigh and when he opens his mouth to ask if she would like to dance with him, he feels a pair of strong hands placed firmly on his shoulders, pulling him away from her.  

“What the fuck, man? What are you doing with my girlfriend?” He hears a male voice saying behind him in English.  

Jungkook blinks, trying to comprehend what have just happened. His head spins from the sudden motion and he feels like throwing up any second. He lifts his head, meeting the terrified expression of the girl he talked to just seconds ago.  

“Are you deaf or something? I’m talking to you.”  

Someone pushes him forcefully again and that’s when he turns around with reluctance, standing face to face with very much pissed off white guy. He’s taller than him and the deep furrow of his brows tells Jungkook he’s in for a trouble.  

“James, it’s okay. We were just talking.”  

“Well, it didn’t look like that!”  

“Just let him be. He’s drunk.”

Jungkook feels like his soul has left his body and now he’s staring at the whole scene from the side. The muffled voices reach his ears but he cannot fathom anything. He pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes.  

Another shove at his shoulder coerces him to regain his senses a little.  

“I’m not letting that fucker go that easily until he apologies. Hey, shithead!”  

Jungkook feels hands grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket. And then, when he thinks this is it – Jeon Jungkook of BTS is going to get hammered in some sleazy club by a foreigner because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself, because he’s useless peace of shit instead of the It Boy of his country, everything stops.

He knows this voice. Maybe his drunken brain is deceiving him, maybe he’s hallucinating or dreaming because he’s already lying bruised on the floor and unconscious. But he hears you and feels you, touching his arm and saying, “It’s alright, sir, he’s here with me. He doesn’t feel well. I apologize for his behavior.”  

Your grip is stronger than he remembers to be. It hurts like you’re mad at him. But is it really you, dragging him across the room, away from those people through the crowd of sweaty bodies? He squints his eyes, focusing them on your silhouette, but what he sees is merely a blurry sideprofile of a young woman.

“I can’t believe the first thing I do after not seeing you for three years straight is saving your ass.”  

There’s a wave of fresh air hitting his face. He inhales it greedily, hands extending to stabilize himself until he feels the rough texture underneath fingertips. He leans his head on the wall, eyes squeezed shut. Seconds pass, maybe even minutes, until something nudges him on the side.  

“Do you feel better now?”  

To be completely frank, Jungkook is scared to open his eyes. His sanity is slowly coming back to him and he hears you now loud and clearly. Maybe he’s really dreaming but if that’s true, why does he feel like he has a full control on his next move?  

It’s really you. Three years older than he last saw you, arms crossed over your chest and evident frown on your face. He doesn’t know why but he wants to smooth the crease between your brows. It doesn’t suit you. Your hair is shorter, your features sharper and more mature.  

You’re definitely not dream-__. His dream-___ would have scratches on her knees and some fantasy book in her hands. She sometimes visits him at dead hours of the night, asking why he hasn’t answered her calls and messages. Sometimes she stares at him from the photograph he carries in his wallet because he cannot bring himself to get rid of it.

He probably should hug you, run into your arms and thank for saving his reputation. He should hug you because it’s been three goddamn years and you were his best friend once. One of the most important people in his life, his partner in crime (and professional math tutor in primary school). God, you were his first, silly crush when you were merely ten, hair braided and pimples on your cheeks. His shoulder to lean on when he needed to cry. The girl who played football with him because there was no boys in your neighborhood with whom he could do it.

Instead, he asks, “Did you cut your hair?”

The first thing you do is raise your eyebrows, as if you’re genuinely confused he’s able to form full, coherent sentences. Next, you scoff. “Seriously? We meet for the first time in three years in a club where I work because I need to save your ass since you’re completely pissed and tried hooking up with taken woman, and that’s the only thing you have to say?”  

He doesn’t like how you sound already. Your tone matches your expression, stern and slightly irritated. But at the same time, he’s not surprised you’re acting like this.

“I’m sorry, I’m just…” he hesitates. He’s just what? Pathetic? Stupid? Reckless? Or maybe–

“Crazy?”  

He smiles sheepishly. “Yeah. That’s a good word.”

You take a step closer, standing right in front of him. “So are you going to tell me what are you doing in this part of the city, getting drunk while being a freaking idol?”  

“Isn’t it what all celebrities do?” he asks sardonically.

You roll your eyes at that, and he takes a moment to look at you more carefully now. Your cheeks are rosy from the cold and he notices a smudge of mascara underneath your left eye. And there’s another thing he remembers about you; the weird habit of staring at him intensely whenever he wasn’t aware because you were terrible at keeping eye contact.  

But it seems like a lot of has changed in that department and now you’re meeting his eyes without a hint of shyness.  

“Yeah, maybe they do. But not when they have a reputation to take care of.” you counter.  

Jungkook sighs, closing his eyes for a second. It’s still hard for him to produce logical thoughts but he knows he’s slowly sobering, the chilly air clearing his mind. You hug your coat tighter against your body and he wonders for a moment if it’s really that cold outside and he just doesn’t feel it because of the alcohol swimming in his veins.  

He’s not capable of having this kind of conversation with you under those circumstances. While you’re outside of some niche club in a part of the city he doesn’t know, reunited after three years of silence.  

You have that look on your face, the one you used to wear every time he got on your nerves and he was in for good scolding. His head pounds too much to bare with it now.  

He needs to smoke a cigarette.

He fishes a pack, placing one between his lips. He feels your eyes on him the entire time and after taking the first drag, he offers you to light up one as well.

“I quit.” you say curtly.  

“Okay.” The smoke swirls around his features and you take a step back, cringing. You never really could stand the smell.

“Is smoking even allowed for you?”  

He snickers, shaking his head. It’s funny, how you’re asking him this now, when you were the one he used to smoke occasionally with at the docks every time he visisted Busan. Eighteen, listening to Arctic Monkeys and Coldplay on his old iPhone and watching the sky burning when sun was hiding behind the horizon.

Jungkook smirks. “Out of sight, out of mind.”  

As a matter of fact, he doesn’t smoke often. It’s more like a sporadic trespass when he’s out for the night than a regular craving. Leaving aside his favor for cigarettes, he shouldn’t let himself become addicted, not when it might easily influence his lungs capacity. And Jeon Jungkook's velvet voice can’t have a hoarseness to it.

“So, you work here?” he opts to ask you, avoiding the set of questions probably already itching to leave your mouth all at once.

“I do. I actually ended my shift few minutes ago. I had some work to do at the storage room and when I walked out, I saw that guy ready to beat the shit out of you,” you say, grimacing. “To be honest, I didn’t recognize you at first. You looked… different.”  

“I guess that’s what they call the magic of stage make-up.” he jokes but his comment doesn’t make you laugh. If anything, you look even more puzzled.  

Then, his phone buzzes in the pocket of his jacket. He pulls it out just to be met with tens of notifications, mainly texts and unanswered calls from Jimin. He must have found out somehow he’s been gone.

“Fuck.” Jungkook mutters under his breath, locking his phone.  

“Something’s wrong?” You always could read him like an open book. He wasn’t very talkative kid back then and you, somehow, found a way to communicate with him on non-verbal level.  

Jungkook scratches the back of his head, smiling lopsidededly. “You’re going to laugh at me,” he sighs.

“No, I’m not.” you promise. There’s sincerity in your voice but he knows better. You’re definitely going to.  

“I’m scared to come home.” Jungkook says, entirely serious. His doe eyes widen for emphasis and you’re sure he’s shitting you yet you decide to play along.  

“And why is that?”  

He leans closer, smelling of cigarettes and his musky cologne and you almost wince. “Because I’m gonna have my ass whipped.”  

He waits a moment, and then breaks into a grin. It’s his drunkiness still speaking through him and maybe a tiny bit of curiosity how you were going to react.

You snort loudly. “That was terrible.”  

“You smiled. I saw the cornes of your mouth moving.”  

“You’re wasted, Jungkook. I’m surprised you’re standing on your own feet right now,” He pouts and you sigh, shaking your head. “So are you going to tell me what is it really about?” you ask.

He shrugs, blowing out the fume from his cigarette. “I just don’t wanna go home drunk. It will be worse than coming back in the morning, believe me. I’ve been there before.”  

Something flashes across your face hearing his last sentence but it quickly disappears, replaced by your usual, unreadable expression. You seem to think about what he has said, until you exhale loudly, making him look at you with raised eyebrows.

“Fine. You can crash at mine.”  

Jungkook knows he might have misheard you. But you’re still staring at him as if you’re waiting for him to respond. He feels dumbfounded.

“What?”  

“I saved your ass today once, I can do it again. That’s what friends are for, right?”  

He hates how bitter it sounds coming from you. He knows it’s very much what he deserves. You don’t own him anything after all he’s done to you yet here you are. Offering him help even though you don’t have to do anything.

You’ve always been too good for him.

You cock your head at him, a small smile dancing on your features he wishes was genuine. Maybe you still have a sentiment for him, after all. “You coming?” It’s what you ask, and he tosses the half-burnt cigarette, following you without a word.

And that’s how your story starts again, with reckless decision, cigarettes and underground stations.

Ironically, Jungkook ends up at the Bongcheon Underground Station for the second time that night.  

You led him wordlessly out of the building, taking a turn into direction he was familiar with. On the whole ride back to your home, you were silent. You didn’t utter a sentence to him, even when you reached your stop, you just stood up from the seat and he followed you like a lost puppy.  

Walking from the station to your flat, Jungkook decided he’s had enough of this awkward silence, breaking it first.

“So, how have you been?”  

It’s such a stupid question to ask someone you haven’t talked to for such a long period of time. Of course you can’t catch up all that have happened in last three years during ten minutes-long walk. Jungkook bites his lip, peeking at your side profile.

“It’s actually funny you’re asking this now. I’ve been good, and you? Or actually… wait! You don’t have to answer that because I know you’ve been good too, thanks to your mum who is updating mine about everything what’s going on in your life,” you say sarkily. “Oh, not to mention I also have Internet and it’s really hard to avoid news about nation’s favourite boy group, right?”  

Your harsh words make him grimace. He knows he fucked up royally and your bitter attitude towards him is the effect of his wrong doings. Yet, he can’t help but feel a little bit irritated.

“You know I’m sorry.” he mutters under his breath.  

“Oh, are you? Was it really that hard to call an old friend once in a month?”  

Jungkook looks up at the sky, as if he was wishing it could give him strenght and fill his mouth with words that will make your stony façade break just a little. “I was busy,” he answers, regretting it as soon as it slipped of his tongue.  

He hears you scowl. “Busy? Doing what? Drinking and hooking up with women?”  

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes. “Are you really patronizing me right now? We just came across each other and I’m trying to be civil here. We’re not thirteen anymore, loose up.”  

You stop in your tracks abruptly. “I see. You don’t need my help anymore and you’re okay with sleeping under the bridge, fine.” you spit and turn your back on him, quickening your pace.

“What? Wait!” Jungkook calls after you because one: you might be not joking and two: he’s too startled to react in time and now he has to jog up to you. “You aren’t serious, right?” he asks after catching up with your hurried movements.  

You sigh, taking another turn. “God, I can’t believe you’re still that childish.”  

Jungkook frowns. “What does that suppose to mean?”  

“You know damn right what I mean.”  

You’re now walking through a typical, industrial looking neighborhood. He used to live with other boys in an area like this, back when their name meant nothing to the world and industry, when you used to talk practically every single day on the phone.  

Suddenly, you stop in front of one of the buildings, digging in your purse and pulling out the keys.  

Jungkook silently follows your figure when you enter the tenement house you’re living in. He squints his eyes, trying to remember the street name and building number. For some reason he feels like this information might be useful for him sometime in the future.

You quickly climb up the stairs until you reach the forth floor, Jungkook running out of breath with mouth hang open, and that’s when you turn around to face him.  

You don’t say anything to him. You just stare, expression stern yet unreadable at the same time. Your gaze is challenging but eventually you give up, sighing and opening the door to your flat, letting him in.  

The first thing he notices is that your flat is tiny.  

There’s barely enough space for one person in the hallway when you hang up your coat without a word, bumping into his unmoving figure when you’re trying to walk into what is probably the smallest kitchen he has ever seen.  

You pour yourself a glass of water, chugging it greedily while he still stands dumbly three meters away from you, fully dressed, unsure of what to do.

He jumps, hearing you put the glass on the counter loudly. “So, welcome in my humble abode, I guess,” you say. “Are you going to stand there the whole night?” You cock your head into his direction and Jungkook shakes his head, shrugging off his jacket and kicking off his shoes.  

“I know it’s small but the rent is cheap,” you add, referencing to the size of your apartment. You don’t need to explain, he wants to tell you but he doesn’t. Instead, his eyes wander to the other part of the flat where your bedroom is, as he assumes.

“Ah, yes, that’s my bedroom. And living room, and bureau,” you confirm, voice laced with apparent sarcasm. “Make yourself comfortable.”  

Jungkook hesitantly enters the room. There’s nothing much there beside your bed, wardrobe and a small desk with your laptop and other belongings on. One thing he realises is that you keep everything clean and tidy, despite the limited space you have here.  

“But the view is nice, isn’t it?” you ask suddenly, startling him a little. Jungkook, encouraged by you, glances out of the window and he has to admit that yes, indeed, the view is beautiful. You can see the city quite clearly from the forth floor. “I’m still surprised when I look out of the window and see rooftops instead of brick walls. I guess I’m kind of lucky.” you chuckle.  

That’s when he realises just how much more you deserve than you have. It hits him how privileged he is now, living in a luxurious area for rich snobs and celebrities who look out of their windows and see green hills. And one more time, his anger for the unfairness of this world only boils stronger in his veins.

“I gotta go the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”  

You leave him alone again, and now he has an opportunity to look at the corkboard you have above your desk. There is plenty of photos and polaroids pinned to it and he finds himself examining them without a second thought.

It seems like you have them organized chronologically. They start with you as a little kid standing in front of your house in Busan, front teeth missing and clutching your favourite doll. Next, you’re in school and surprisingly, he finds himself present on most of these photos along with you. Playing football at the backyard, eating ice cream at your favourite parlor (he has smudges of chocolate on his chin but he smiles to the camera like it means nothing). He recognizes a photo he took of you when you where in middle school, dressed as Anne Boleyn for some history project he doesn’t remember what was exactly about.

As years pass on your polaroid timeline, his face is slowly disappearing from your captured memories. He smiles when he sees his favourite photo of you, the one he also carries snuggled deeply in his wallet. It was taken by your mum on your seventeenth birthday. You went on a picnic by the sea and Jungkook surprised you with an unexpected visit, coming home back from Seoul. He gifted you a bracelet bought with the first money he had earned in his life.  

He wonders now if you still have that bracelet somewhere, hidden among many other things reminding you of your past together, just like the creased photo in his wallet he still hasn’t thrown away.  

Then, Jungkook eyes land on the most recent picture. You’re grinning to the camera while being hugged from the back by a man he doesn’t know. He presses his lips to your cheek in a fleeting kiss. An affectionate one.  

“I see you’re enjoying yourself.”  

Jungkook jolts a little hearing your voice. You come up to him and he notices you have changed your clothes for something looking much more comfier. “Remember this one?” you ask, pointing at the photo of you sitting on a beach next to the sand castle you built.  

Jungkook smiles apologetically. “Yeah.”  

“Ten seconds after taking this photo, you decided to ruin my sand castle and made my cry.”

He can’t help but share your grin when your eyes lock. There’s the same sympathy in them he’s grown to known. It feels familiar, almost domestic. He likes it.  

“So,” He nudges your side, pointing with his chin at the corkboard, “care to tell me who is this guy?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and you roll your eyes in response at his antics.

“That’s my boyfriend Minho.” you answer.

Jungkook doesn’t know why but for some reason, he feels uneasy now. He’s mad at himself he’s been really missing out what’s going on in your life. He shakes off these thoughts quickly though, mastering an amusing attitude.

“That was a very poor introduction, ma’am. Come on, you can do better than this. Tell me more about him.” he teases, making you sigh loudly.

“Minho is five years older than me. He’s working as a police officer. We’ve been together for almost a year. Are you happy now?” you grumble.

Jungkook smirks. “Very much.”  

“He doesn’t sleep over here so I don’t have any of his clothes you can change into,” you add awkwardly.  

He furrows his eyebrows. What are you talking about now?  

You shift on your feet, turning to face him properly and now he realises why did you say it. The clothes you have on are actually your pyjamas. Right, it’s almost two. You’re probably sleepy after your night shift and he’s keeping you up. And you’re kindly reminding him it’s time for him to rest as well.

“It’s okay, I can sleep naked.” Jungkook says. Your eyes widen almost comically at that. “Relax, love. I’ll stay with my boxers on. Unless you want to see my without them.” He raises a single brow in question.

You grimace. “Jesus, Jungkook, you’re still drunk. Go take a shower. You can use the blue toothbrush and white towel.” You slump down on your bed  and he leaves the room without another word.

Jungkook has been in many bathrooms in his life but yours can only be describe as microscopic.

He feels almost claustrophobic when he’s standing underneath your shower. The water is splashing on everything and he panicks for a moment if you will be angry at him for the mess but then he realises it’s practically impossible to keep everything around dry when he’s showering without any curtain or glass door around him.

He uses your shampoo and body wash, cleaning himself as fast as possible. They smell nice, flowery and exotic and somehow like you. Quick shower definitely has drained him from most alcohol he has in his system. He can now think through the situation he’s in with clear mind.  

After drying himself up and putting on his boxers, he stands in front your sink. He wipes off the moist on the small mirror, just to be met with his blank, tired eyes staring back at him. He really should use some good sleep. He uses the blue toothbrush just like you told him to and in the middle of the second round of brushing, he chuckles to himself at the surrealism of this whole situation.

He’s met you for the first time in three years after not speaking to you at all. You don’t own him anything and here he is, already having enormous, unpayable debt because you saved his life from the embarrassment and possible scandal.  

You were always like this, ready to put on your superhero cape and save him. Just like years ago when you stood up from your seat in math class and told the teacher you didn’t feel well right before she was about to check his homework, or rather the lack of it which was going to result in another low grade on his account. You, scaring off his fifth grade bullies. You, paring up with him for every school project and doing most of the work selflessly and without a word of complaint because you’ve always liked working alone.  

Jungkook spits the rest of the toothpaste and water mixed together to the sink and splashes his face. He really doesn’t know why he deserves you.  

The question is simple. He doesn’t. Not after being a total prick to you. But in some strange way, you took him back again, like nothing ever happened.  

When he exits the bathroom, he sees you kneeling on the floor and putting a bunch of pillows on the carpet that lies next to your bed.  

Jungkook frowns. “What are you doing?”  

You look up at him. Your eyes widen visibly when they land on his exposed chest but you quickly compose yourself. “What does it look like? I’m setting up a bed for you.” you reply, patting the pillows, still refusing to meet his stare.

“Am I not going to sleep with you on the bed? We slept together before and it wasn’t a problem then,” he says with furrowed brows.

“Are you kidding? My bed is for one person only! And you’re… you’re–“  

“I’m what?”  

“You’re big! Bigger than you used to be.” you breathe out, standing up from your kneeling position and sitting on the bed instead. There’s a tingle of barely noticeable rednees on the apples of your cheeks and he fights an urge to tickle your sides just to see you trying not to break into laughter so he could get away with your stubbornness.

“Okay, Miss Grumpy,” he grumbles, kneeling on his make-shift bed. Upon hearing that, you freeze on your spot and then he realises what he has just done.  

He called you the old nickname he’s made for you. He hasn’t done that in years.

You bite your lip, acting as if it hasn’t affected you even the slightest. Clearing your throat, you reach for the lamp on your bedside table and switch it off.  

Twenty minutes after that, Jungkook finds himself lying on his back in complete silence and staring at the ceiling. You have a few fluorescent stars attached to it, the ones that shine when it’s dark. You had probably ten dozens of them in your old room in Busan, too. A whole constellation.

Jungkook won’t lie, it is a little uncomfortable to sleep on the floor. He tells himself he’s fine with that, though. It’s what he deserves for being an absolute asshole to you. The sleep will come eventually.  

Another minutes pass and he’s still very much awake. Then, Jungkook thinks ‘fuck it’ and decides to shoot his shot.  

“___?”

You hum sleepily in response after a short while. “Yeah?”  

“I cannot sleep.”  

“Not my fault.”  

He bites his lip. “Can I sleep with you?”  

“Jungkook…”  

“Pretty please?”  

There’s a long pause before you say, “Fine.”  

He hears you shifting on the mattress, making a room for him. The bed creaks under his weight when he places himself right next you, back to your back. He wonders if he isn’t squishing you to the wall right now.  

“Are you okay?” he asks, just to be sure.

Your comforter ruffles when you try to move but there’s no use for it, not when he’s practically pressed flush to you. “Yeah. I’m good. You’re just really hot.”

“Thanks, love. No need to flutter me like that.” Jungkook murmurs, a hint of smug smile on his lips you cannot see.

“I was taking about four freaking body temperature!”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to pretend you didn’t mean it.”  

“Go to sleep, Jungkook.”  

There’s mute between you for a while. Nothing but deep exhales and inhales and occasional sounds of cars or wind coming from outside of your window.  

It’s been really a long time since he’s slept in the same bed with other person. He's not the type to stay over after casual fuck, he’s never done that. But when he lies next to you, he can’t help but longe for someone to just hold him; nothing more, nothing less. He wonders what would you do if he turned around and snuggled into your backside. Would you yell at him? Kick him out?  

But you used to be so close together once. He won’t find out unless he tries.

Carefully, with limited space, he changes his position, mattress protesting under his weight but he rolls to his other side anyway, until he’s facing your back. He feels your body tensing a little when his breath fans over your neck but you don’t say anything, letting him cuddle up to you.  

It feels intimate this way, perhaps even too intimate for both yours and his liking but Jungkook can’t help but relish in your close proximity. When he senses you’ve relaxed a little, he shuts his eyes tightly.  

“___?” he murmurs. It's barely a whisper but you heard him loud and clear.

“Mhm?”  

“I’m sorry for ruining our friendship like that.”  

You’re silent for a moment and he thinks you might have fallen asleep but then, you let out a long sigh that sounds awfully audible in the small space of your bedroom. “You still have time to fix this, Jungkookie.”  

You haven’t called him that in three years. It’s good to hear that again.

He smiles to himself, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You don’t protest. If anything, he feels you breathe out with relief.  

Next morning you wake up feeling like the temperature in your room has risen to fifty degrees. You’re still wrapped tightly in your comforter and facing the wall, which means you haven’t moved even an inch in your sleep. The cause of it being a very much large, male body practically crushing you with its weight.  

You let out a shaky exhale. Jungkook’s front is not only pressed flush to your back but somehow, his muscular leg is thrown over yours, successfully trapping you in.

You wiggle, trying to free yourself from his hold but when you hear his quiet groan, you abruptly stop your movements. And then, you feel it. An apparent hardness poking your backside.  

You can’t help but blush, reminding yourself not to make this situation even more awkward than it already is. It happens sometimes, you tell yourself, it’s completely normal for men to pop a boner when they’re in such close, intimate position with another warm body.

But when you feel Jungkook unconsciously seeking friction and pressing himself even firmer against your bottom, you can’t help but yelp in response, throwing off the material covering your body and elbowing Jungkook's unsuspecting face in process.

“Fuck! What time is it?” he mumbles groggily, narrowing his eyes when they’re met for the first time with the sunlight gradually slipping through your unveiled curtains.  

“Quarter past your dick poking my ass!”  

Jungkook furrows his brows but when his eyes land on his crotch, he smiles sheepishly at you. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “It’s just been a really long time since I slept next to someone like that.” His cheeks are flushed in pink and he rubs the back of his head in a bashful manner.

“What about your one night stands then?” you can’t help but ask.

He shrugs in response. “I never stay over.”  

“Oh.” You don’t even know why you’re strangely surprised. Maybe it comes from the fact that you’ve always pegged Jungkook to be the rather romantic type. People change, they say. Or sometimes your assumptions about someone you thought you know like the back of your hand happen to be wrong.  

You clear your throat. “Anyway, get up. It’s time for breakfast.” you say and disappear from his sight but he still hears you fumbling in the kitchen, popping the kettle on.  

He raises from the bed with reluctance, bending to lift the puddle of his clothes he left on the floor last night.  

“Hey, what do you want to–“ you begin but your voice involuntarily trails off, seeing him in rather exposed state now in broad daylight. “–to drink?” you finish almost breathlessly.

You’ve been aware Jungkook's good looking. He’s started attending gym long before you stopped keeping in touch with each other. You just didn’t know he is that ripped. It’s not a surprise that his fans go nuts every time they see even a small glimpse of his muscles.  

You really shouldn’t be staring but it’s too late when you see a sly smirk on his face. “Like what you see, buttercup?” he asks like the cocky bastard you didn’t know he’s capable of being. “I would like a black coffee, please.” he adds.

There’s a roll of your eyes in response to his teasing tone. “Oh, stop with these nicknames.”  

Jungkook grins. “Why? Hyung used to call you that and you blushed every time.”  

“Because I had the biggest crush on your brother when I was eleven, dumbass.” you scoff, shaking your head. You leave him, heading back to the kitchen to finish preparing food.

“I know you had a crush on him,” Jungkook shouts after you, putting on his pants and t-shirt. “I’m just curious why him, not me.”  

“Seriously? You had emo fringe and pimples back then!”  

He laughs, making his way to the kitchen where you’re standing by the counter and mixing something on the frying pan.  

“Hope you don’t mind eating scrambled eggs,” you say, sparing him a quick glance. “It’s probably the only edible thing in my fridge right now beside instant ramen.”  

Jungkook settles himself on the stool by the small, wooden table situated right by the window. This time, the view is a greish wall of another building. He takes the coffe cup from you and adds a generous spoon of sugar. “I don’t mind. It smells really nice.” he answers, calming your concerns. “So, am I not crushable in your eyes?” He takes a sip of his drink, peeking at you curiously.  

You take out the plates from the cabinet and start putting the food you’ve prepared on them. “What kind of word ‘crushable’ even is? Beside, you have millions of fans gushing over you, I’m unnecessary in this equation.” you say, placing the plate in front of him.

“But you aren’t saying no,” he counters.  

“Jungkook.”  

“I know, I know,” he chuckles. “I’m just teasing you.”  

You look at him then, observing thoroughly for the first time since you saw him last night. He’s indeed handsome, there’s not a hint of doubt about that. His features are more mature, the baby fat on his cheeks gone and replaced with chiseled jawline. But if there’s one thing which stays the same, it’s his eyes. Still gleaming with misheviousness when he laughs and holding starry skies in them when he’s astounded by something.  

“Didn’t know you were such a great cook, ___,” Jungkook’s voice brings you back to the reality. He sends you thumbs up with his mouth full and you can’t help but crack a smile at his goofiness. Old habits die hard, they say. “Aren’t you eating?” he asks, staring at you with wide eyes.

You glance at your untouched eggs and opt for taking a sip of coffee instead. “I’m not that hungry.” you respond. He shrugs his shoulders at that, taking a bite of the toast.  

You nip the inside of your cheek, hesitating, before asking him a question that have been sitting on the tip of your tongue since last night. “What are you going to tell the rest of the guys when you come home?”  

Jungkook's expression immadietly shifts after registering your question. “The truth.” he says like it’s the simplest thing in the world.  

You don’t even try to hide your puzzlement, repeting after him, “The truth?” in bewildered tone.

“They aren’t going to buy that anyway. But believe me, it’s better if I came back in the middle of the night completely wasted.”  

Something’s telling you not to dread that conversation longer so you don’t press him about it any further, instead focusing on changing a topic. “Do you have anything planned for the rest of the day?”  

He nods, swallowing. “We have a dance practice later.”  

You raise your eyebrows. “New comeback?” you smile teasingly and he sends you a wink.

“That’s a secret I’ll never tell.”  

“Oh, come on. You know I can keep my mouth shut,” you pout.  

He rolls his eyes at first but then a small smile appears on his lips. “I know you can. You’ve been covering for me in school all the time.” he murmurs. At that, something warm spreads in your chest. “Come on, buttercup, I’m not spilling anything until you start eating.” he warns, pointing at your untouched food.

When you grin at him and he reciprocates the gesture, it feels like you’ve turned back the time.

“And... five, six, seven, eight!”  

Jungkook doesn’t know how many times he has repeated the same sequence of movements but he feels like passing out anytime soon. He asked Hoseok to help him practice but it looks like his older friend is in rather bad mood today and he seems to lose patience even quicker.  

“...and spin–no! Jungkook, you’re not supposed to do it like that.” Hoseok sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.  

Jungkook grimaces, collapsing on the floor. “Give me a few moments, hyung. I’ll do better, I promise.” he mutters.  

Hoseok crunches down next to him for a moment, patting him on the shoulder reassuringly. “You did good, Kook-ah. We can call it quits for today.” he says.  

Jungkook doesn’t even have strength to answer him verbally. Instead, he shuts his eyes tightly and nods. He hears Hoseok walking away and talking in the distance with Namjoon about something.  

“Are you okay?”  

Jungkook cracks an eye open. It’s Jimin this time. He kneels on the floor, observing him with worried look on his face.

“Yeah. Just need a minute to catch a breath.” Jungkook responds.

Jimin nods but Jungkook knows him well enough to sense that there’s another question at the tip of his friend's tongue. And he’s not wrong.

“Jungkook, you know you should stop doing that.”  

Jungkook sits up, turning his head in Jimin's direction, eyes narrowed into slits. “What, hyung?” he asks, not hiding is irritation. He’s heard it too many times not to feel it already blubbering inside his chest.  

“You know exactly what I mean. Partying, getting drunk, sleeping around like a–“ Jimin stops himself in time, seeing Jungkook's expression.

“Like who?” Jungkook scowls. “Come on, hyung, end the sentence.”  

Jimin shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m just worried about you. We all are.” He puts his hand on Jungkook's shoulder and squeezes.  

“No need to. Besides, you’re the last one to lecture me about smart life choices.” Jungkook spats harshly and gets up, leaving Jimin staring at his disappearing figure with defeated expression.

Back in the confines of his room, Jungkook finds himself lying on his bed again. At some point, his thoughts wander back to you. He had to leave your flat quicker than he wanted because of the scheduled practice (and the hint of guilt he felt for his hyungs).  

He wonders if you can still be friends together, just like the old times. He needs it. Needs you by his side. He didn’t even know he’s been craving it unconsciously. But then he realises he didn’t even ask for your phone number. Maybe you still have the same one?  

He reaches for his phone and unlocks it, searching through his contacts. He has you saved under ‘Miss Grumpy'. It makes him smile involuntarily. His thumbs hover over the screen before he starts typing.

[21:08pm] me:  

hi, it’s me Jungkook. I don’t know if that’s still your number but I decided to give it a try. I wanted to say thank you once again for yesterday. and today’s breakfast. 

Few minutes later, his phone buzzes.

[21:11pm] Miss Grumpy:  

you’re welcome, buttercup  

Seven days later, Jungkook is at Bongcheon Underground Station again. This time, it’s not his recklessness and cynicism that led him here. He climbs up the stairs and walk into the half-asleep streets with purpose in his mind.  

He remembers exactly the path to the club you’re working in. Now he can only hope you have a shift tonight as well. 

You haven’t talked a whole week. He felt too insecure and scared to call or text you. What if you don’t want him to keep in touch? What if your last meeting and sleepover at your flat was just a favor for old times’ sake?  

That’s why he needs to see you in person. He thought about visiting you in your flat but his intoxicated brain betrayed him and he couldn’t recall your address even if he tried and he did, sitting in front of his laptop and wandering through the streets on Google maps.  

When he enters the club he’s met with the familiar buzz of electronic music and the smell of sweat mixed with nicotine. It looks like it’s his lucky day though, because here you are, talking with a client behind the bar.  

Jungkook can’t help but smile to himself. He observes you for a while from afar, watching you listening to someone’s tipsy rambling with a polite, yet forced sympathy. He decides to save you from the uncomfortable situation, marching to the bar and sitting on one of the stools.  

He sighs to himself, remembering the pieces and bits from his memory of the last time he was there, making a total fool of himself. If it wasn’t for you, his foot would never step here ever again.

You excuse yourself and leave the drunk man, just to be met with Jungkook's smiling eyes. Somehow, his brain short circuits and he sends you a wink.

You roll your eyes, approaching him. “What can I get you?” you ask. “Although after last time I suggest a glass of water.”  

He chuckles, pulling his face mask down. “When do you finish?”  

Sparing a glance at the watch you have on your wrist, you answer, “In forty minutes.”  

“A beer it is, then.”  

You hesitate, reaching for the glass. “And you’re just going to sit here the whole time, waiting for me?” you ponder with a surprised expression, just like you’d never thought he could do something like that.  

Jungkook only grins in response.  

For the next half an hour he watches you work; serving drinks to clients, polishing glasses, occasionally giving a love advices to some teary-eyed girls in a short, black dresses. Just when he’s chugging the last sip of his beer, you come up to him.  

“I’m done for tonight. You can wait for me outside.” you say.

When his in front of the bar, he pulls out his cigarettes and lights up one to pass the time. He wouldn’t call himself addicted. He smokes rather sporadically, mostly when he’s out getting wasted or when he’s stressed about something. Or just like now, when circumstances are conducive.  

Few minutes later you appear by his side. He takes one last drag and whirls to face you. “So you really quit, huh?” he asks, making you nod curtly. “And you don’t smoke even when you’re on a party?” He's almost astonished.  

“Nope, even then.” you confirm, hearing him mutter a ‘Wow’ under his breath. “Well? What now?” You cross yours arms over chest, eyebrows lifted in question.

He tosses the cigarette to the ground and tramples it with his foot. “I thought we could go to your flat, eat late night ramen and just talk.”  

“So we're hanging out now?” There’s a slight sarcastic lilt to your voice and he worries for a moment you are going to tell him to fuck off but then, your features soften. “It sounds nice but I know a spot not far away from here when we can sit and talk. If that’s okay with you.” you say.

“Lead the way, then.”

You didn’t lie when you said the place you were taking him wasn’t far away. What you didn’t tell him though, was that getting there meant climbing up the fire escape all the way to the rooftop of a run-down tenement house.  

“Care to explain me how do you know about this place?” Jungkook asks once he’s seated comfortably on an old, emerald sofa next to you. It’s a mystery to him how this peace of furniture was brought here but nevertheless, it was someone's good idea.

You were right. It is nice here. You have a full view to the city from up there and he’s sure it would be easy to see the green hills in daylight or watch how the sky burns during sunsets.

“Minho took me there first,” you explain, answering his question. “His police department is few blocks from here. One day they got a call from some angry, old lady, saying that someone was playing music very loudly nearby. When they arrived, they found out a group of teenagers had organized a party on top of the rooftop.”

Jungkook hums. “He’s quite romantic,” Upon seeing your clueless expression he adds, ‘’Your boyfriend, I mean.”  

“Ah, yeah,” You crack a smile, although he thinks it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “He is. Sometimes.”  

He decides not to press you about it any further.  

He leans his head back, closing his eyes for a brief moment and inhaling the chilly, pre-spring air. Then, he feels you nudging his side. “So, what do you want to talk about?” you ask, staring at him in anticipation. Jungkook lets out a groan in response and runs his hand down his face. You chuckle, “Hey, we didn’t come here to sit in silence. Entertain me a little, would you.”  

He sighs your name. You aren’t prone to giving up easily, he knows it. You’re probably the most stubborn person he’s had a chance to encounter and that is also one of the main reasons he came up with the ‘Miss Grumpy’ nickname when you were in fifth grade.

“I’m pretty sure the golden maknae of BTS has more interesting life than me,” you snicker and he knows it was meant to sound playful coming from you, but he feels something heavy in his chest hearing your remark.  

He musters up a small smile. “You would actually be surprised if I told you that my life isn’t as exciting as it may look.”  

It hasn’t missed your eye how tired Jungkook seems. No matter how much he tries, he can’t possibly hide fully the bangs underneath his eyes or the greish complexion of his skin. It’s weird seeing him in person like this; without stage make-up and plastered smile reserved for the fans. Seeing him so humane.

For the last three years, you only watched him on your phone's screen. But it wasn’t really him. Your Jungkook is sitting right next to you and silently observing the city during the night. Your Jungkook smoked cigarettes with you by the beach in Busan and got you an autograph from one of your favourite artists he had met personally at the backstage after some award ceremony.

Your Jungkook would never got himself drunk to the point of unconsciousness, risking his reputation. But again, you might only think you know him.

“Let’s talk about you instead,” Jungkook says suddenly, pulling you out from your thoughts. “What do you do beside working in that club?”  

You sigh. “You know I don’t like talking about myself either,”  

“I know, but we haven’t seen each other for so long. I need to catch up with you.” 

You fight an urge to scoff, “And whose fault is that?” but you’re not in the mood to argue. Nor is Jungkook, as you suppose. “I’m studying journalism. Bartending is my part-time job. I had to start working because I couldn’t afford to pay for rent just from my poor scholarship. Prices have increased so if I wanted to stay in Seoul, I needed to work, whether I wanted or not.”  

Jungkook knows there’s no words that could somehow lessen your struggles. It’s been a long time since he worried about money. Now, he can have everything he’s ever wanted yet something’s always missing. And he still hasn’t discovered how to fill that void.  

“You’re still writing?” he asks instead, referring to your hobby you’ve picked up when you were kids.  

“Yes, I am. That’s actually what most journalists do, Jungkook. We write.”  

He laughs boyishly, high-pitched and you recall that pleasant sound from the back of your memory. He used to be embarrassed of it when he was younger and often hid his mouth behind his hand to muffle it. You’re glad he doesn’t do that anymore.  

“What’s so funny in that?” You sound slightly irritated, although you’re trying hard to stop yourself from smiling too. It just comes naturally when you’re around him.

He takes a deep breath and then says, “Nothing. I’m just thinking,”  

You raise your eyebrow. “Thinking? About what?”  

“Remember how you’ve always dreamt about becoming a writer when we were teenagers?”  

You nod. That’s still very much your goal. Albeit you’re aware it might as well not come true, sadly. “I do. And what about it?”

Jungkook doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he places his arms behind his head and leans back on the couch with a coy smile. “Maybe you will write my biography one day.” he says after a moment.  

“Only if you pay me shit tons of money for that.”

“Agreed.”  

You find yourself coping his position and slumping on the couch as well. His eyes are closed, and you watch him from the corner of your eye. Despite the dim lighting, he seems glowing in the darkness like a single, silver spot on the noir sky.

“I think I know how would it be called.” you say suddenly.

“Hmm?”  

“Your biography. I came up with the title.” you clarify.

“What is it then?” Jungkook hums with his eyes still closed.

You take a moment to answer, looking up at the blackboard night sky above you. Smiling to yourself, you reply. “I would call it ‘Lost star’.”  

His brows furrow slightly. “Why is that?”  

“That’s my secret for now.”  

“I don’t know. I think this song needs something more.”  

“It’s fine for me, Namjoon-ah. The bridge is great, stop worrying so much. We still have a lot of time before the deadline.”  

“Thanks, hyung. Jungkookie, have you spoke with Hyowon-hyung about your solo?”  

“Kook-ah? We’re talking to you.”  

“Jeon Jungkook!”  

Jungkook looks up from his phone at the sound of Seokjin's harsh voice. He sends his older friend a clueless look. “Hmm?”  

Namjoon sighs. “I asked you a question, Jungkook.”  

Jungkook puts away his phone. “I’m sorry, hyung. I wasn’t listening. Can you repeat it?”  

“Of course you weren’t, you’ve been staring at your phone for the past twenty minutes instead of paying attention to us.” Seokjin scoffs, digging his chopsticks in the kimchi he's eating.  

It’s a little past seven and they are having late dinner at their dorm after a whole day of schedule. Jungkook doesn’t even know what type of commercial they were recording. He just kept reading everything from the monitor behind the camera as he always does, trying to make it seem as unnoticeable as possible.

Truth to be told, Seokjin's right. He hasn’t been paying attention to their conversation, although he definitely should have. Telling them he was texting you this whole time is a pathetic and dumb excuse, he knows that. He doesn’t want them to ask him questions about you. Not yet.

“I asked if you talked to Hyowon-hyung.” Namjoon repeats after a moment.  

A hint of realization crosses Jungkook's face at that. “Yeah, I did. He played me the first draft and told me to work on the lyrics.” he says, reaching for his chopsticks.

Namjoon nods, humming. “Do you want me to help you with that?”  

Jungkook shrugs. “No, you don’t have to. I’m just waiting for the inspiration to kick in.”  

And he hopes it’s going to enlighten him soon. He has a few songs written on his own but creating music for an album it’s different. The standards are higher, expectations bigger. Restricted time always makes him jittery, too.

Taking a mouthful of his bibimpap, a smile flashes across his face. He glances if anyone is looking at him now but his friends are busy talking about something regarding the next release. He reaches for his phone and writes a message to you.  

[7:16pm] me:

do you remember the time when you cooked a bibimpap for my goodbye dinner at home?

Not even a minute later, he receives a response from you.  

[7:16pm] Miss Grumpy:  

yeah I do  

why are you asking me this tho

[7:17pm] me:  

I’m eating it know and it reminded me of that day

sorry but god, it was awful

[7:16pm] Miss Grumpy:  

excuse me????

He remembers probably every second of that day. His mother’s tears, your extremely undercooked meat and his father’s affectionate hug.  

Smiling to himself, he taps another sentences.

[7:18pm] me:  

I couldn’t tell you that. you looked so proud of yourself  

I just ate everything like it was the most delicious course on this planet

best acting of my life  

[7:19pm] Miss Grumpy:

you asshole

i poured my heart into this

you’re right, that was your best acting. definitely better than war of hormone playboy jungkook  

He rolls his eyes. The amount of times you joked about this particular moment of his career is neverending.

[7:19pm] me:  

can you please stop  

[7:20pm] Miss Grumpy:

fuck off. of course I won’t  

how was it?  

ah I know.

I’m a bad boy so I like bad girls

showstopping. truly

He tries to muffle his laughter but there’s no use for that. He snickers under his breath, hoping no one have noticed but he was oh, so wrong. Because as soon as he looks up from the phone screen, all eyes are on him.  

Namjoon clears his throat. “You’re not eight anymore, Jungkook, so I won’t lecture you like a father but please, don’t use your phone while we’re eating.”  

“Who are you texting this passionately anyway? You never put anything before food.” Hoseok adds, frowning.

“My hyung.” Jungkook answers casually.  

In the corner of his eye he sees Taehyung leaning to whisper something in Jimin's ear and they both giggle quietly. Jungkook sends them a glare.

They stop but few seconds later, Taehyung breaks into his signature boxy smile.

“What is this, Taehyung?” Namjoon asks, frowning.

“It looks like our Jungkookie is lying.”  

Jungkook grips the edge of the table tightly. He searches for Jimin's eyes but he looks away quickly, as though almost guilty.  

At the other end of the table, Yoongi puts away his chopsticks and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Care to elaborate on that, Taehyung-ah?”  

“He isn’t texting his brother. I think Jungkookie might be in love,” he sing-songs, giggling to himself.  

Jungkook’s first instinct is to smack his friend's in the head. And so does he. “What the fuck, Tae?” he snaps.

“Language, kid!” Seokjin says automatically.

“I'm twenty-two!”  

“And I’m twenty seven, so shut your mouth and listen to your elders. What is Taehyung speaking about?”  

Jungkook shakes his head. “I have no idea.”  

“Oh, stop bullshitting us. I looked at your phone screen when it was lying on the table. You don’t call your hyung ‘Miss Grumpy'.” Taehyung says, his fingers doing the quotation mark in the air.

“You’re not supposed to look at my phone! It’s called privacy!” Jungkook exclaims, however it’s pointless. Everyone now is focused on him and you.

“Can someone tell who the fuck is ‘Miss Grumpy’?” Seokjin asks, looking around the table.  

Jungkook runs his hand through his hair in a nervous manner. He screwed up, and now they won’t let him breathe for at least five more days. “Her name is actually ___. She’s my childhood friend from Busan.”  

He hears Taehyung chuckling next to him. “Oh, come on. You can tell us you’re sexting her. We won’t judge.”  

“I’m not!”

“Shut the fuck up, all of you!” Yoongi says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can’t we for once eat in peace? Jungkook, please, kindly explain us who this girl you’re texting with is.”  

Jungkook pursues his lips. “I told you. She’s just my old friend. Why would I lie to you?”  

Seeing their uneasy expressions, he realises he said the wrong thing. He has lied to them before about many things. It isn’t anything shocking that they doubt his words now. They have all rights to do it.

Namjoon is the first one to break the uncomfortable silence. “Jungkook, you know the rules. We can't freely date like we would like to. I suggest you should end things with this girl, whatever you're both doing, before it escalates into something more serious. Before you hurt her and yourself in the process.” he says.

Hoseok nods at his friend’s words. “Namjoon is right, Jungkookie. Serious relationships are just going to make everything more complicated.”  

Jungkook grits his teeth. “We aren’t dating.” he spats.

“Sleeping together also isn’t a good idea.”  

“We aren’t having sex,” Jungkook's eyes narrow. “Why didn’t you tell the same thing to Yoongi-hyung when he was seeing that blonde girl? He sneaked her into his room one day and I’m pretty sure he wasn’t just playing her his music.” he scowls, shaking his head.

“Hyung's older than you. Besides, he ended things with her some time ago.” Namjoon counters.

“It’s true, Jungkook-ah. Namjoon is right. No matter what you’re doing with her, you should always be careful.” Yoongi adds.  

Something breaks in Jungkook at that. All of the pent-up frustration seems to leave his body at once. “You know what? Fuck off, all of you. I’m not a kid anymore. I can make my own decisions and they are none of your fucking business.” He stands up from the table abruptly.  

“Jungkook, wait. Let’s talk without fighting now,” Namjoon pleads but he isn’t listening to him anymore.  

Jimin, who was silent this whole time, puts his hand on Jungkook's shoulder. “Jungkookie–” he starts but his immadietly cut off by Jungkook's harsh tone.

“Stop calling me that!” Jungkook snaps and walks away, slamming the door to his room behind himself.

There’s a knock to his door an hour after.  

This pattern feels familiar. He messes something up, they give him some space to think and reflect about it on his own and then, it’s time to sit together and discuss it openly almost like a peace treaty. Jungkook says sorry, promises he will be a better person and everyone moves on.

He doesn’t bother getting up until he hears a voice behind the door speak up. “It's Yoongi-hyung. I’m not here to force you to apologize. I just want to talk.”  

Jungkook's brows furrow. He stares at the door, imagining Yoongi standing behind it with his hands in pockets and eyes glued to the ceiling. He debates whether he should open the door and let him in or keep sulking just a little more until the atmosphere will loosen up on its own.

Somehow, his thoughts wander to you. You would probably tell him that communication is the key to solving problems, or something along the lines. That he can’t shut himself from the world because he feels like no one really gets him. You would also call him childish but he doesn’t dwell on that more.

“Jungkook-ah? Please, open the door. I promise I won’t patronize you.”  

He exhales loudly and gets up from the bed. If there’s one person in this house whose words he can trust wholeheartedly, it’s Yoongi. He twists the handle and walks back to his bed.  

The door clicks shut a few moments later, mattress dipping where Yoongi makes a room for himself next to him, clearing his throat.  “Listen,” he begins but Jungkook cuts him off with a scoff.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t give me patronizing ted talks.”  

“Yeah, I did. But I won’t stare at the wall in silence either,” Yoongi says. Few deep breaths later, he continues. “Jihye was a nothing but a good friend to me with whom I had sex sometimes, no strings attached. Until one day I realised our relationship stopped being solemnly based only on physical attraction. That’s why I decided to end things with her.”  

“Did you fall in love with her?” Jungkook asks.  

Yoongi shakes his head. “No, I didn’t. But I could. And that’s what scared me the most.”  

“Why?”  

In the corner of his eye, Jungkook sees him smiling sadly. “It's simple. Because being together would only lead us to heartbreak. I cared about her too much to make her hurt like that due to my selfishness.” he says. “This is the same reason why Jimin didn’t continue his relationship with our make-up noona even after she left the company. And that’s exactly why you shouldn’t get any hard feelings involved with that friend of yours.”  

Jungkook pursues his lips. He understands Yoongi's concerns but his situation is different. Jimin was in love with that woman. He was ready to buy an apartment for them and move out from the dorm. If someone from the company hadn’t found out about their secret relationship, he would have still been sneaking around with her.

Jungkook though, doesn’t have any feelings for you. He’s gone past his silly crush when you were younger a long time ago. Besides, you have a boyfriend and he doesn’t chase after taken women. At least not intentionally.

“She’s just a friend, hyung.” he says finally but it sounds more like he tries to convince himself, not Yoongi.

Yoongi pats him on the shoulder. “I know. Just be careful, okay?” And with that, he leaves Jungkook's room.

Jungkook knew it was a bad idea as soon as he stepped into the club and loud, thumping music filled his ears.

He knew it when he ordered a round of shots and gulped them down one after another. When he found himself in the middle of the crowd of sweaty bodies, head buzzing and arms around a nameless brunette, his tongue between her lips.

And he knows it right now, when he’s sitting in a booth, her ass placed directly over his crotch where he’s already sporting a hard-on. The girl (Eunbi? Or maybe it’s Eunji? He hasn't registered when she shouted it to his ear because he was too busy staring down at her cleavage) grinds herself with eagerness against him and he lets out a groan, leaning to plant kisses on the side of her neck. And in that exact moment, when his chapped lips meet the porcelain skin of her throat, he locks eyes with you.  

(And he’s once again reminded how stupid it was to go to the club where you work.)

After his conversation with Yoongi he felt like he needed to prove something to himself. That he’s not the one to fall in love impulsively, that he can fuck and not get feelings involved. He could have gotten himself drunk in in any other place yet here he is, a random girl straddling him while he blinks his bloodshot eyes at you.

Your gaze trails down from his face to his palms splayed on brunette’s bottom and you scoff to yourself, averting your attention somewhere else. If he’s disappointed, he hides it pretty well, sucking yet another purplish mark on the girl's neck she accepts with another roll of her hips.

Whimpering into his ear, she moves herself faster against his hardness but he doesn’t pay mind to her anymore, not when he catches you looking at him again in the corner of his eye.  

The girl leans to kiss him and he obliges, tongue darting to lick into her mouth but his eyes remain trained on you the whole time. You see him slipping his fingers underneath her skirt and smirking when he feels the evidence of her lust between her thighs. He wants you to watch him making her come undone on his lap, he craves to relish in the sick thrill of having you witnessing what he’s capable of doing. But when he’s about to pull the girl's lingerie to the side, you’re turning away and disappearing from his sight.  

His fingers stay pressed to the flesh of brunette's thighs, unmoving, until she purrs into into his ear. “Oppa, please. Want you so bad.”

Jungkook tsks to himself, rolling his eyes at her saccharine sweet, high-pitched voice. “Not here.” he mutters.  

Minutes later he’s in the club's bathroom, his head thrown back and grunts escaping his lips. He looks down at the mop of her hair as she swallows around his cock, bringing him closer to the release. She peeks at him from between her eyelashes, teary-eyed and already fucked-out.  

He threads his fingers through her hair and pulls hard, until she moans around him. “That’s it, baby. Gonna fuck your mouth now.” He pushes himself deeper, feeling her choke. She welcomes the pain without complaint, tears flowing down her cheeks and palms pressed obediently on his thighs. Jungkook clenches his jaw, focusing on his pleasure until he groans lowly and comes down her throat.  

He pulls away from her mouth, tugging himself back into his pants. She stands up from her kneeling position on wobbly legs and wraps her arms around his neck. “What about me, oppa?” she giggles, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Won’t you fuck me now?”  

He sighs, staring down at her. There are smudges of mascara underneath her eyes, her cheeks are wet with tears and her lipstick is smeared. He reaches with his thumb to wipe it, and she leans into his touch.  

He feels guilty telling her to be quiet and hiking her skirt up. He feels it when she climaxes around his fingers with a cry of his name on her lips. He feels it too even stronger, cleaning her up and leaving to fix her make-up in front of the blurry mirror, but that’s all he can do. That’s everything he can provide.  

Later that night, when he's finally in his own bed, your face flashes behind his eyelids. He's sick of himself, of his actions, that he let his weaknesses got best of him again.  

Before he could even think of it, he types a message to you.  

[3:45am] me:  

I’m sorry. I was drunk and couldn’t think straight  

Few bits of silence later, his phone buzzes.  

[3:47am] Miss Grumpy:  

I know you were  

Did you at least thank her?  

He scoffs to himself, thinking about proper words to answer you but strangely, he recalls your wide eyes transfixed on him and the way you held his challenging gaze when his lips kissed another woman. He’s never seen you looking at him like that before. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t affect you even the slightest.

[3:48am] me:  

don’t worry. she had a good time  

[3:48am] Miss Grumpy:  

goodnight, jungkook  

[3:49am] me:  

sleep tight, ___.

There’s something apprehensive in the perpetual ticking of the clock when it's silent in the room. It almost feels like the sound keeps getting louder and louder as the time passes by, as if it’s expecting a storm to occur and shatter the calm.

“___?”  

You’re brought back to the reality from your thoughts by Minho's voice. He has a questioning look on his face, watching you with raised eyebrows.

“I’m sorry,” you say sheepishly. “I was lost in my thoughts for a moment.”  

“I could see that,” Minho reaches for his tea cup and takes a sip. “Is everything alright?” he asks, but you shake your head with a smile.

“Just university stuff.” you say vaguely and he doesn’t press you about it any further, nodding in understanding.  

Minho left his work earlier today, coming straight to your flat. It’s Wednesday and Wednesdays are dedicated to spending your time together on dates. Today, you’re going to the cinema and to your favourite sushi bar. For the second time this month.

“I’m going to use the bathroom now and then we can head out, okay?”  

You answer him with a nod. Standing up, you gather your cups and place them into the sink but right when you’re about to wash them, you hear Minho's phone buzz with single notification.  

You bite your lip. You know you shouldn’t look but you push it to the back of your head for now, sparing a quick glance at his lockscreen.

Sooyoung: when you will be free next time?  

You frown. You’ve never heard him taking about any woman from his work with a name like this. The message sounds ambiguous but it doesn’t have to mean anything to worry about at the same time. You just have to ask to be sure. That’s what couples do, right? They communicate.

Taking a deep breath, you wait for Minho until he comes back from the bathroom.  

“Are you ready to–”

“Who’s Sooyoung?” you cut him off before you’ll lose your courage and let the anxious thoughts consume you without asking him first.

He furrows his brows but then his eyes land on the phone lying on the table. He pursues his lips. “You’ve been snooping through my phone?”  

“I didn’t have to snoop. I just looked at the screen when you got a notification.” you say as calmly as possible, trying to hide your nerves. “I just thought it’s a little weird that some other woman is asking you when you will be free next time.”  

Minho's eyes narrow. “What are you insinuating?” he asks.  

“I’m not insinuating anything. Just tell me who she is, it’s simple.”  

He looks uneasy, tongueing the inside of his cheek but nevertheless, he’s still as composed as ever, gauging you with tentative expression. “Sooyoung is my friend from work. She’s a new recruit and we go to the shooting range to practice once a week,” he explains. “And before you will ask: we aren’t there all alone. Kihyun accompanies us. So you don’t have to worry about anything. Can we go now, honey?” 

You lower your eyes to the ground, nodding. When you try to move past him, Minho catches your wrist. “Do you have anything more to add?” His voice is stern and you gulp.  

“I'm sorry.” you almost whisper.  

“It’s okay. Just don’t jump into conclusions next time, okay?” he says, hand still wrapped tightly around your hand.  

“Okay.” you repeat and he releases you.  

A smile appears on his face after that, and he cocks his head at you. “Let's go.”  

You exhale a shaky breath you didn’t even know you were holding and follow him.

There are some things in our lives that we cannot predict.  

Like the heavy traffic on the way to work because of the car crash happening somewhere in the city or meeting your ex you’d rather forget about in a shopping mall months after break up.  And when they do happen, we can only confront what the faith has in store for us, no matter how much we resist.

You certainly couldn’t predict that after sending a ‘god I want to get drunk so bad’ message to Jungkook he would actually appear hours later on your doorstep with grocery bags in one hand and pizza box in another, grinning broadly when he saw your genuinely surprised expression.

That’s when the surrealism kicks in, when you’re sitting on the floor of your bedroom, one empty bottle of suju on your account and the second almost drained to the half. When Jungkook is right by your side, tomato sauce on his chin you wipe out for him with a grimace, talking about some dumpling incident that caused a huge fight among his friends.

But no matter how much you try, how much alcohol you pour into your system, you’re unable to fully get rid of the anxious thoughts sitting at the back of your head.

It’s been a while since your argument with Minho and even though you want to believe him, the creeping feeling that something’s off won’t leave you. It’s easy to say to always trust your intuition, but what if it prompts you scenarios you wouldn’t like to become real?  

Jungkook must have sensed that something doesn’t feel right because he stops his rambling mid-sentence, clearing his throat. “Are you even listening to me now, buttercup?” he asks.  

You snap out of your thoughts at that, mustering an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I was but–”

“But you zoned out for a moment,” he finishes. “It’s okay. I know you since we were kids, I can tell when there's something bothering you. It’s all in your eyes.” he says, making you furrow your brows in confusion.

“What’s in my eyes?”  

“They look sad.”  

You shy away from his piercing stare, looking at your lap instead. You’ve always proud yourself that you can read people like an open book. That’s why you can so easily hide your true emotions at bay before the whole world. But if there’s only one person who is capable of seeing through you, it’s Jungkook.  

You can open up to him, you remind yourself. You’re safe, he’s been your friend for such a long time, he won’t hurt you.  

You take a deep breath and say, “Minho and I have some trouble. I mean, it’s nothing serious but he’s been acting weird lately and few days ago we got into a fight, so yeah. I’m just... a little stressed, that’s all.”  

“Should I kick his ass?” he suggests and knowing him, he might as well be serious so you brush it of with a chuckle.

“Maybe not yet.”  

You reach for the empty pizza box between you, putting it to the side. You debate taking another shot of soju but eventually you refuse, placing the bottle next to the carton. You’ve had enough alcohol for tonight anyway.  

“Are you happy with him, ___?” Jungkook asks suddenly, and you feel like all the air in the room has been sucked off.  

You turn to face him, heart rickocheting faster in your ribcage. If you’re truly shocked he’s had an audacity to ask this, you hide it pretty well. Something in your head is telling you that the best defence is attack, so you aim.  

“Are you happy?”  

Your question stirs something in him. You don’t know what you expected but you could never imagine him actually catching the bait and answering you with honesty. Yet he does.

“You know, I’ve been asking myself the same question a lot lately,” he says, smiling lopsidedly. “There are days when I’m the happiest person on this planet, when I feel like I can do everything. But sometimes, when I step down the stage and lights go out, it just gets harder.” There’s a slight crack to his voice at the end and when you look him in the eyes, they’re glassy. “If I knew it could be so lonely, I wouldn’t have signed up for this. Ever.”

Some things in life we are able to predict. We know the road leading to success and accomplishment might be bumpy, yet we cannot truly be prepared for the outcome of all the difficulties we come across along the way. Jungkook was aware of the consequences his popularity may cause in the future, but he simply didn’t think it could be so overwhelming.  

You scoot closer to him, your hand finding his amid your bodies. He looks down and intertwines his fingers with yours with a hint of smile in the corner of his lips. “You have all rights in the world to feel the way you do, Jungkook, remember that. But you’re not alone in this. I’m always here, okay? I’ve been for the past three years and I’m not going anywhere soon.” you say firmly, closing the distance between you.

He accepts your hug with eagerness, wrapping his arms around your frame with desperation, pulling you closer. It’s been so long since you’ve talked like this, since you’ve comforted each other and shared deepest fears.  

Jungkook buries his face in the crook of your neck, where you feel him breathing out shakily. He rests his palms on your back, tracing soothing patterns over the material of your hoodie and that’s when you realise he wasn’t the only one who needed to be held like this, even just for a moment. It’s exactly what you’ve been missing, the sheer intimacy of a simple hug.

“Sometimes I just wish it was different.” he whispers into your hair and you close your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat.  

“Me too.”  

Somehow, it seems like the most honest thing you’ve said.

Even when you pull away, you’re still mere inches from him. You feel his breath on your skin, his hands travelling from your backside to your hips. Jungkook's eyes are focused on your face but there’s no sadness or melancholy in them now. In his deep brown orbs you recognize something akin to longing.  

And maybe the alcohol running in your veins is deceiving you, but when his gaze drops to your lips, you can’t do anything; you’re paralyzed, barely breathing. It’s electrifying, crawling in your skin. His right palm finds the apple of your cheek, thumb stroking your bottom lip until he releases it and tilts your chin. The moment your eyes meet his comes with realization that maybe you were right - you see the yearning in them. But it’s mixed with desire.

The first touch of his lips on yours feels almost exploratory. He kisses you so softly and carefully you might believe it’s his first kiss, but you know this is only a false inkling. Truth to be told, his experience in this area is incomparable to yours. With the shy press of his lips on yours he’s only testing the waters, sensing if you want to push him away. Yet you don’t.  

You succumb to the way his chapped lips move against yours, like they’ve always belonged there. You want to be as close to him as possible, feel the heat radiating of him on you. Nothing else matters beside you and him right now, the reality outside doesn’t exist as long as you’re in the confines of your small bedroom, lips colliding and rational thoughts gone.

When your fingers almost hesitantly thread into the locks at the back of his head, Jungkook deepens the kiss. Your body is moving on your own accord, knees sinking onto the floor on either sides of his thighs until you’re straddling his lap. You taste the desire on his tongue as he runs it through the seam of your lips, seeking entrance you provide.

His hands find purchase on your hips and when he nips on your bottom lip you let out a silent moan, leaning your forehead on his. “What are we doing?” you whisper, breathing heavily down his flushed cheeks and parted mouth. You’re trying to grasp the meaning behind all of this: of your quickened heartbeat, of the evidence of his desire where you groins meet.

“Something we are going to regret later.” It’s the answer Jungkook gives, connecting your mouths once again in a searing kiss.

Everything seems to crush around you. Erupting volcanoes, cascading waterfalls, tsunamis consuming the land. It’s dangerous, Jungkook thinks to himself, kissing you like that, nibbling on your bottom lip and eliciting a moan. But he can’t help but drown in it.

You’ve never felt quite like this; consumed by the flames of forbidden desire, ready to burn into ashes. Jungkook’s palms shift underneath your hoodie and you’re surprised how warm they feel against your skin, caressing your stomach and underside of your breasts. He’s touching you with ardour, like he doesn’t believe you’re in his arms, like you’re going to disappear the second he lets go of you.

You place sloppy kisses on his cheeks, jawline, down his neck, relishing in the way he seems to be affected by your caresses, tightening his grip on your waist with every press of your lips on his skin. He grasps the hem of your hoodie, looking for any sign of discomfort in your eyes but when you nod your head, he doesn’t hesitate to lift it off you, uncovering your bare cleavage.

Biting your lip, a sudden wave of insecurity washes over you but it quickly vanishes as soon as his palms engulf your breasts almost roughly, thumbs brushing your nipples until the peeks harden under his ministrations and you can’t help but gasp. He trails kisses down your throat, teeth grazing your skin almost feather-like and you know what’s that for. He doesn’t want to live a visible mark there.

In one, swift motion, Jungkook puts his hands underneath your thighs and stands up from the floor, lifting you up with ease and placing gently on your bed. He hovers over your half-naked figure, eyeing you with the carnal hunger that makes your chest raise and fall with heavy intakes of breath, core pulsing with want.  

He takes off his shirt and tosses it somewhere on the floor, and now you understand why all these girl are so drown to him. Jungkook's probably the most good looking man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Everything in him is crafted with perfection, from the prominent outline of his jaw, through the column of his throat and collarbones, to the sculpted expanses of his chest and abdomen.  

Your fingerstips are itching to map every ridge and deep of his body but you remain still, anticipating his next move with rapidly beating heart. Dominance and power radiating of him nearly make you squirm underneath his scrutinizing stare. His dark eyes are telling you to obey him, and you give yourself to him without resistance. You’ve never felt this way, not with anyone. Yet here you are, stripped from the innocence and bared to the pleasure.

Jungkook reaches to the waistband of your leggings, pulling them down and leaving you with nothing but your underwear on. He straddles your thighs, his palm pressed flat to your stomach until he slides it lower, to the dip of your body where you drip with the need of being fucked until you forget your own name.  

The first press of his fingers on your pussy makes your limbs jerk uncontrollably and he smirks at your reaction, seeing the material of your panties dampening with his small, teasing strokes. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly it wounds you up, blame it on your uncontrollable celibacy or maybe something else entirely.

“What do you want me to do, doll?” His question makes you whine, hips raising to feel more of his touch on you but he only chuckles at your apparent eagerness, patting your folds in reprimand.  

“Anything,” you breathe out in response, looking at him with frenzied eyes and hoping he will be merciful to you.

Jungkook tsks, his fingers leaving your cunt and grasping your jaw tightly. “Be a good girl and use your words.”  

You gulp, a humiliating blush reddening your cheeks. You’ve never really been a vocal person during sex, nor were people you had slept with but you can’t deny how much of a turn on is Jungkook's commanding voice.

“Please, Jungkook. Want you to touch me.”  

“Where?” His other hand wanders down your body until he cups your center. “Here?” he asks in a mocking tone, making you nod silently. “You want me to touch your pretty pussy with my fingers?”  

“Yes, please.”  

He grasps your underwear and shruggs it off your legs, smirking when he sees you so affected by his words. He then shoves his index and middle finger into your mouth and watches as you obediently lap your tongue around them, looking at him with hooded eyes.

“Fuck.” he curses, pulling his fingers out of your mouth.  

You look so pliant and submissive lying naked underneath him, so willing to let him do with you whatever he pleases. His cock throbs in his pants at the thought. He’s had girls at his beck and call before but it’s a different kind of lust with you. A strong yearning, consuming him from the inside, a desperation to be as close as two humans being submerged into carnality possibly can be.

Your back arches when his calloused fingers finally make contact with your bare pussy, slipping between your folds to gather the wetness dripping from your hole. You gasp at the feeling of his thumb circling your clit, biting your lip until you taste iron. He easily finds the right way to make you moan, to make your legs shake with want.  

You cry out his name when he pushes the first digit inside. He swears under his breath when he feels your warm walls flattering around him. “M-more,” you whimper, hips lifting of the mattress and seeking friction.

Jungkook smirks at that. “You’re so wet, baby. You like it, don’t you? Such a greedy slut.” You’re mewling at his words, grasping his wrist when he roughly plunges another finger into your cunt and starts shoving them in and out, not sparing even a second to let you adjust to the punishing pace he sets.

He leans his body closer over yours, eyes focused on the way your face writhes in pleasure while his fingers are abusing your pussy. You’re dripping, your arousal coating the his palm and the insides of your thighs. When he sees you reaching to squeeze your breasts, he swears he’s never seen anything sexier than this in his entire life.

“Jungkookie–nghh, please,” You’re a blubbering mess, moaning incoherent sentences. You could sense your orgasm approaching, you’re feeling it warming your body from the tip of your toes all the way to your core where you’re gushing around his long fingers.  

“Come on, doll. Be a good girl and cum for me.” Jungkook murmurs. With his words and his thumb flicking your bundle of nerves with practiced ease, you’re pushed over the edge, tears spilling from your eyes and coating your cheeks. He watches with parted mouth as you come with his name on your lips, your velvet walls deliciously tightening around his digits. He gives you a moment to ride out your high, stroking your side with his palm soothingly.  

Pulling out his fingers, he places them in his mouth, humming lowly at the taste of your arousal on his tongue. He wants nothing more than bury his face between your thighs and lick you clean but right now, he needs to fuck you.  

He stands up from the bed, taking off his pants and boxers along with socks and catches you peeking at him from the corner of your eye. Your chest is rising with laboured breaths, lips swollen from the way you’ve been biting them to stop yourself from letting out any loud noises that could potentially be heard through the thin walls of your apartment.  

He digs one knee on the mattress, his other hand wrapped around his thick cock. You lick your lips at the sight, nails digging crescent moons into your palms.

“On your fours, baby.” Jungkook commands and you oblige with flushed cheeks, maneuvering your body onto your hands and knees. You feel him behind you, his palms stroking the skin of your bare ass. A sick thrill runs through your body at the prospect of being taken in such a humiliating position.  

Groaning, Jungkook rubs the mushroom head of his cock through your folds, collecting the juices spilling out of you. That’s when you come back to your senses and your whole body stiffens. “Wait,” you call out, making him pause. “We need a condom.”  

“I’m clean. Besides, I never fuck anyone else without protection.”  

“Fine, just–” Closing your eyes, you release a shaky breath. “–you need to pull out, okay?”  

Jungkook leans over your body, placing a kiss on your shoulder blade. “Relax, ___. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.” With one hand on your waist and the other on your hip, he positions the tip of his cock at your entrance and pushes agonizingly slow inside, making you moan at the stretch. You’re grasping the sheets underneath between your fingers, knees threatening to give away after another measured stroke that leaves your heat pulsating.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. When was the last time he fucked you?” he grunts, digging his fingers into your flesh. At the mention of Minho, your body tenses. You breath heavily, trying to push the unwelcomed thoughts aside.  

“A m-month ago?” you utter, recalling the last time you had sex. Or rather when you sucked him off and he didn’t bother reciprocating the favor.  

Jungkook shoves his cock deeper, scoffing to himself. “His stupid for not appreciating this enough.”  

You bite your lip, focusing on the feeling of him inside you. His words sound affectionate, too affectionate for your liking and you don’t want to think about this moment like it means more than what it is. Your hands tremble and lose balance when he fucks into you harder, until he’s filling you to the brim. You’ve never felt so deliciously full. A few bits of ragged breaths later, you mumble, ‘’You can move.”

He tightens his grip on you, bottoming out. He sets a steady pace, fucking you slowly but deeply, making you cry out into the pillow at the sensation of his cock dragging through your walls, making sure you feel every inch of him. “You feel so good, doll. So wet and tight. I’m gonna make a mess of your pretty pussy.” he says lowly.

The sounds of skin slapping against skin echo through the room with the promise of merciless fucking. Jungkook is relentless, pounding into you faster and faster, like he wants to ruin you, imprint himself on your body to make you remember how easily you can give into vulnerability. His hand slips underneath you and he lifts your upper body up, pressing your back into his chest. The new found angle causes him to hit the spot inside you that has you putty in his arms.

“Don’t–nghhh–stop, fuck!”  

He grunts into your ear in response, sweaty bangs ticking the side of your neck. He sneaks his other hand around your throat and you gulp. “Is this okay?” You hear him whispering and you’re nodding, tears gathering in your eyes from the immense pleasure he is bringing to you with every snap of his hips that threatens to make you lose it on his cock.

His fingers apply a slight pressure against your neck, enough to make you lightheaded with unfamiliar yet ecstatic feeling. He overwhelms you in every way possible and you’ve never felt like this; so powerless yet alive at the same time.  

Jungkook releases the grip on your throat but he’s hand still remains there as if in warning. “Look at you, taking my cock in your slutty cunt. You’re close, aren’t you? Gonna cum all over me?” he growls, fingers rubbing your clit in fast circles until tears are spilling down your cheeks and you’re keening.

“God–yes, fuck! Please, I want to cum so bad.” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut. You’re on cloud nine, trembling in his arms. He tightens his hold on your throat again and with one last, final flick of his digits on your pussy you’re reaching your second orgasm this night.  

Jungkook releases his hold on you, helping you lay down on your back after riding out your high to the brick of oversensitivity. His palm caresses the length of your body soothingly, calming you down. You’re eyes are still closed when he bends and kisses you. Surprised by his sudden gentleness, your breath hitches in your throat. He coaxes a small moan out of you when you finally relax, wrapping your arms around his neck blindingly and pulling him close.  

You break away the kiss, feeling his stiff length pressing into your stomach. His cock is covered in your slick, thick and hard against his toned abdomen. Biting your lip, you sit up and enclose your fingers around his sex. Looking up, you're met with his dark orbs watching your movements. With his raven hair falling down on his face and sweaty chest, Jungkook looks painfully beautiful.

He lets out a hiss when you lean down and take him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his velvet tip. “Fuck, just like that.” he murmurs. Gathering your hair in his hand, he makes a makeshift ponytail and stares down at you bringing him closer and closer to the edge with every drag of your pink muscle on his cock.  

Feeling him twitch in your mouth, you take him deeper, ignoring the ache in your jaw. “Gonna cum.” Jungkook grunts and moments later he releases his seed down your throat. You swallow the bitterness of his arousal, lapping your tongue around his tip until he pulls out of you, wincing with oversensitivity.

Silence takes over the room. You don't dare looking at him, staring at your naked lap instead, thoughts screaming in your head. You know you’re going to feel the aftermath of your rough fucking tomorrow, and it won’t be only physical pain. You sit up, ready to go to the bathroom but a hand on your wrist stops you.

“Wait, I’ll do it.” Jungkook murmurs and you nod absentmindedly.

He gets up from the bed and disappears in the bathroom. Unsure of what to do, you force your muscles to move, sitting at the edge of the bed. Jungkook comes back a minute later, carrying a dump towel.

Your head drops to the ground immadietly. He kneels before you and you desperately avoid his eyes. You notice he’s put on his boxers already and now he’s cleaning you gently off, removing evidences of your sins from your skin. You will take a shower later, the water will wash you off from each other’s scents and lingering touches. Love bites will soon disappear, bruises on your hips fade. Yet the scars you left on your hearts won’t heal that easily.

Jungkook puts his hand on your knee and you bite your bottom lip. He takes your hoodie lying on the floor and puts on your naked, marked body. Your heart clenches in your chest at the simple gesture.

“___,” he calls your name. At that, you finally look up at him. He seems worried, you must tell, millions of thoughts crossing his mind at the moment as well as yours. “Let’s go to sleep for now, okay? We will talk about this in the morning.”  

You don’t say anything, nodding at his words. You crawl onto the bed, trying to create as much distance as possible between your bodies but it’s pointless. You feel his breath on your neck and you're sure his itching to hold you, but he doesn’t know if he should, so he stays mere inches from you, until you both eventually fall asleep.

Jungkook wakes up hours later with a raging headache. He grunts to himself, rubbing his face with grimace and making another meaningless promise about drinking less alcohol. When he open his eyes, he realises he’s staring at the fluorescent stars attached to the ceiling. Your ceiling.

When he turns his head to the left, he finds the other side of the bed empty. It’s almost bright in the room, which means he’s stayed overnight again. And he didn’t do just that.  

Bits of memories flash behind his eyelids: him coming to your flat to hang out, your conversation, the kiss that led to naked bodies and breathy moans. He fucked up royally this time.  

Throwing the comforter off his body, he feels a sudden rush of coldness raising goosebumps on his skin. Frowning, he picks up his discarded clothes from the floor and starts putting them on. The door to your bedroom are cracked open, just like you haven’t closed them to not wake him up.  

Jungkook raises from the bed once he’s fully dressed, and pushes the door. He finds you standing by the fully opened window in your kitchen, staring outside.

He understands now why there was so cold before. The fluffy, blueish robe wrapped around your body is probably doing little job at providing warmth, but you don’t seem to mind it at all. You don’t see him yet, your back facing him until he takes another step and the floor creaks underneath his weight.  

He sees your shoulders raising and falling, as if you’ve just let out a sigh. Then, you turn around cautiously, a greish puffs of smoke swirling over your features. Jungkook raises a brow.

“I thought you said you had quit.” It’s the first thing he says, his voice still groggy from sleeping.

You shrug at that, averting your gaze to the view behind your opened window again. “I always smoke after making a bad decision.”  

It sounds bitter coming from you. A testament of your recklessness and weak hearts. He could read the regret straight from your face. It’s all in your posture: you look broken. And he is the reason why you’re hurting. The guilt is almost eating him up from the inside. He needs to try fixing this before you will push him away and he’ll lose you again.

“I think we should forget about that.” you speak after a moment of silence, still refusing to meet his eyes. Your voice trembles and he feels it stabbing him right in the middle of his chest, depriving him of hope to make things good between you. “It’ll be for the better for of us if we act like nothing ever happened. We got drunk, we let our emotions get the best of us. That’s all.”  

You and him both know it wasn’t just  alcohol which made you let him touch you like that, fuck your worries away for a few bits of pleasant oblivion. It meant so much more but you’re too afraid to confront this. You aren’t ready yet.

When you close the window and finally look at him, Jungkook's shoulders are slouched. Defeated. Something aches in your heart at that. “I’m sorry. For everything,” he tells you. He’s clenching his fists by his sides and you know he’s hurting too, more than he could ever let anybody realize. “I should get going then.”  

He exits the kitchen with one last, small smile reserved only for you. You didn't mean to handle the situation like that, like you’re quickly ripping off the band-aid, but you couldn’t think of a better way. Closing your eyes, you let your emotions decide once again. “Wait,” you call out after him, stepping into the hallway. “Maybe you will stay for breakfast.” you propose and Jungkook shakes his head.

“No. It’s okay. I don’t want to keep you busy.” he says, putting on his jacket. Reaching for the handle, he turns to you and smiles. “Take care, ___.” When the door close behind him, you let out a long exhale.  

What Jeon Jungkook couldn’t predict, is that he will be the one doing walk of shame out of your flat.

[lovee-infected]

When will it come out where Epel cut off MC I am still waiting until this day (I'm waiting) I'm not rushing you at all but I hope you are doing well 😢 (im sad)

“Apple of my eye”

(A/N): Sorry that it took so long! Hope you enjoy this anyway dears! ~ ♡

Ever since Epel decided to cut ties with you after learning the truth of you being a girl, his life has been nothing but an absolute nightmare. He's got his days filled with fear and his nights filled with regret, wishing there to be a way for both of you to forget. Forget all the times you made him laugh, and all the times he made you cry. He wanted there to be a way for the of you to move on with your lives as if you'd never hurt one another like now. But as it is for now, he is just one step far from being trapped inside this hell forever alone, because you're finally about to leave the twisted wonderland, forever.

Living in Night Raven college has brought you nothing but pain since the day Epel, your trusted best friend and the guy you once loved rejected you after learning the fact that you are a girl. Each and every second spent around all your friends and people you used to admire felt like a torture. How long? For how long are you going to wait until them too throw you away like Epel did? For how much longer can you pretend to be fine until everyone left around you turn their backs on you as well? Days? Weeks? Months? Or have they already given up on you?

You can't take it, it just hurts so much. Even when there's a friend around, it feels like you're ready to break down in tears and run away again and again; just like it happened with Epel. Why does it hurt you so much though? You were supposed to be strong. You were all on your own when you first came into twisted wonderland, you thought you'd be able to handle it again on your own from now on. But uh, how wrong you were. To think that you'd be as strong as you used to now that your dearest one has left you behind...

No wonder why you immediately agreed to Headmaster Crowley's offer when he argued that he might've found a way to send you back home by passing through the black mirror under 2 conclusions : 1) You'll never be able to make a return to twisted wonderland and 2)You won't remember anyone, or anything from this world. As if it has never existed.

At this point, forgetting Epel and everything about him forever seemed to be the only way of letting go of the pain... Now that you can't have him, best would be to never remember how much you once loved.

"(y/n)... is leaving?" Epel murmurs. Rook shakes his head as a yes, all he could do was to at least let Epel know after how things had gone between you and him lately.

Perhaps Rook was the only one who exactly knows happened that morning, the day Epel tainted each and every memory you once had beside him which you used to recall as your sweetest days of life.

Even as Rook was just sneak peaking behind the wall and all he could do was to listen to Epel shouting and you trying to calm him a bit, he's pretty certain that he heard the sound of your heart breaking the moment Epel mercilessly told you that he's cutting ties with you.

Young Epel really did have a hidden dark side all this time, didn't he...?

Lucky of him that Rook was the only one who saw that. Rook may not be that respective toward people's privacy, but he does know how to keep a friend's secret. As for now, he had to agree that your case was concerning. Not just for you but for Epel himself as well. It's pretty rare of him to feel so but he you can tell that he does care.

"In a few days or so, just enough of time for her to patch stuff up and, well, say goodbye to her friends,"

Friends, huh? To think that not so long ago Epel deserved to be reminded as your friend... How fast did it all change,right? Time is an absolutely terrifying thing, he thinks.

A moment of silence passes until Rook speaks up: "Aren't you going to say goodbye?"

'Say good bye',...This sentence keeps on being repeated inside Epel's head. Why would you even want to hear these words coming from him while Epel himself was the only reason that you have to leave? He hurt you and there was no way to undo what he did to you, even if he could one day be able to face that you, his best friend and at some point, the only friend ever since he stepped into night raven college are a girl, it was impossible to look into your eyes again like he hadn't done all the terrible works he did.

That is a fact, he can't fix a broken heart, neither his or yours. Yes, he was mad at you and is still mad. He felt so used to see that you of all people couldn't even trust him with such a simple thing like your gender. The fearful thought of you getting that close to him because he was nothing but a naïve boy who couldn't tell the difference between male and female. If so, were all the times you told Epel that you cared for him a lie? Did you just want to play him around because he was a lonely boy who didn't have any other friends to talk to? Did you too find him stupid...? Why (y/n)? Why..??

Epel bites his lower lip trying his best not to cry in front of Rook. He already cries enough every night in bed and doesn't need another audience watching him suffer.

"Epel?" Rook calls, making Epel realize that he hasn't yet answered his question.

No, he isn't going to walk up to you just to say goodbye. But if he refuses to do so, wouldn't it make that heartless "I'd rather cut ties with you" his very last sentence to you...?

Epel rolls over and his bed again again, another sleepless night. Though something made this night worse than the previous ones, tommorow would be the day that you'll quit his world forever, and he didn't even come to say his last goodbye...

When was the last time he Epel got a proper night sleep anyway? He can't remember. He's sure been a while that he wanted to take a second in peace, either through sleeping or through reality. When he was awake, he wanted to shut his eyes on life. When he tried to sleep, it either ended with him squirming in his surprisingly 'uncomfortable' bed all the time or waking up wet in sweat from another nightmare.

The only time he actually got to sleep for a minute at least was during classes. 'Hopelessly romantic boy', his classmates teasingly called him. Telling how those who're slowly falling in love would lose the track of their lives and become a total mess like Epel was. Epel never said a word in opposition as he didn't want to end up telling them the story of him recklessly breaking your heart after all you'd done for him, yet it was already obvious that he didn't like this term being used for him at all.

Hopelessly romantic boy...huh?

His insomnia issues were no joke, he couldn't concentrate during classes at all. His vision was all blurry and his eyes felt heavily sleepy. Teachers kept on talking and talking while Epel just stared at the mess of words forming enormous sentences in the books until his eyes went shut. There were a few times that even teachers ended up having to shake him after the class to wake him up before sending him to the headmaster's office right away.

"Young Felmier, are you okay? You've been looking very, uh,you know, different lately"

Is he okay? He's been asking himself the same question for a while.

"Yes, Headmaster"

'I, am not okay.'

He hasn't been okay for a long while, at least he's well aware of it. But there's no point in letting anyone else know, right? Perhaps the only one who might've understood how horrible he is feeling right now... was you. Epel drowns in thoughts and memories are brought back to him:

It's been months since then, but it feels like it was just a minute ago, that he had his head on your shoulder as his warm tears soaked your clothes and his warm breath brushed against your neck. It was probably one of his worse days ever. He ran off having tears in his eyes in front of enormous people, yet not a single soul cared to come after him but you. He was a total mess when you found him under the apple tree, his face was flushed and his diamond blue eyes were filled with pain and tears. You didn't even know him much but seeing him like that, in pain and tears, Epel was no more than a stranger but for some reason...it still hurt. You couldn't take it. Accepting hugs from strangers isn't really his thing, but to be comforted right as you need nothing more than an embrace to cry on, it felt...nice.

You've been always beside him from then on, he couldn't really tell why. He was neither too strong nor too smart, he wasn't any famous or rich either. He was nothing but a random country boy who got noticed by you, the mysterious student who got widely popular throughout the school because of their bravery and strength to fight against several overblots without having any magic after a rather short time.

He often felt proud of how lucky he was to have you. It wasn't just because of how famous and adored you later became, he could tell that there was something special about you from the very beginning. You probably didn't notice but when he first met you at the enterence ceremony, he didn't realize that he'd been keeping his eyes on you all the time. He didn't know why, what could the reason be? Curiosity? A childish interest? Or... something else than these?

From the day after, he couldn't take his eyes off you. It was strange, he doesn't usually get to see someone this much around, but you...you were always there. Right in front of him.

He couldn't help but to watch silently until you walked up to him and started to chat, he can't ever forget how silly his first conversation with you went. He was stressed out whether you'd realized the way he was staring at you all this time, could be that you were offended? He was honestly expecting this to be another trouble coming his way but to his surprise, it wasn't.

Though it took a rather long time for him to finally gain full trust on you, after a while spending time with you wasn't simply something he enjoyed doing. It became a part of his daily routine. No matter what, he wanted to see you, no, he needed to see you. Make sure that you're right, that everything between you is still the same, that he'd have you by his side for another the day he won't be left all alone if anything goes wrong.

You were his reason to keep his self-esteem built-up no matter how rough life could be, you were the only one who could give him a safe shoulder to cry on and and an embrace to close his eyes through and the thought of still having you was what gave him the purpose to keep on smiling through another rough day.

Epel nails the white bedsheets as he digs his wet face harder into the pillow, trying not to scream at the pain. What has he done? Why? Why??

How could he do this to you, the person he adored and cared for the most? Yes, you lied, but so did he. He never wanted to cut ties with you. He was furious and insecure, afraid that you might've never considered him any more than an emotional fool. It scared him, he didn't want to be the idiot you'd one say leave behind without caring to let him know that you never needed him back.

He couldn't let go of you as you'd became a part of Epel himself after all this time you've been together.

He was scared of what bigger things you might've hidden from him, including your true feelings for him. What if deep inside, all you saw through him was a helpless toy to use?

Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts,...they were driving him insane.

It hurt way too much to the point of thinking that he hated you. He never did, how could he? Even if he ever ends up hating everything and everyone including himself like he does now, there's no way that he'd you. You were his everything, his happiness, his hope, his wish, his angel.

'Hopelessly romantic boy'... What if his classmates were right about him though?

Oh lord, what is wrong with him? He can no longer deny the fact that he did fall in love with you while he thought it was nothing more than a simple friendship.

Only if he'd realized this sooner, only if he could've said that he loves you instead of asking you to get out of his life, only if he could've had a second chance to hug you one more time and tell you how he truly feels...

And now, it's too late to regret what he's done. You probably hate him now, and he knows that he deserves to be hated. He was the reason of your teary eyes and sleepless nights. And he and only him, was the reason of you wanting to leave all your of your friends and your memories with them behind by making a return to your own world.

As it's clear than he doesn't deserve you and your love, he decides to let his heart burn inside the flames Epel started on his own.

Let him suffer in the name of you, his one and only love, for eternity.

It's past noon yet Epel doesn't want to get out of bed. He doesn't want to look at the clock, though he's pretty sure that you've already left his world.

He wonders...where are you right now? Back to your own world? Next to the friends and family whom you love? You sure don't remember him anymore but...are you happy? Will you now live as the happy (y/n) he'll always love without him there to hurt you again?

"Sorry (y/n), sorry..." He whispers underneath his breath. Hot tears stream down Epel's face, and he squeezes his eyelids shut in the hope his tears would stop. He sat on his bed unmoving, with his choppy breathing and watery eyes remaining for quite a while. He was so lost through his pain and sorrow that didn't hear the knock on his door at first.

"Who there?-" Epel murmurs through his tear. It's probably Rook, wanting to see why he didn't make it to school today. His door continues to be knocked on, yet Epel doesn't care to answer thr sound. Doesn't matter who the hell is at the door, he doesn't want to talk right now.

He hides his face under the blanket, can't he just cry in peace? He hears the sound of his door sliding open, but doesn't bother getting the blanket off his head. He annoyedly wraps himself tighter in bed. 'Whoever you are, just leave me alone. Please, I don't want to-'

Takes a few seconds until he feels the blanket being pulled off him, he vaguely turns his head, ready to shout: "GET LOST" at whoever his interrupter is. He opens his mouth to yell but the sight of the person standing in front of him leaves him speechless.

Your bodies remain still as your eyes are locked, neither of you move a finger until you break the silence:

"Epel..." you whisper. He looks pretty different from the last time you saw him. His face looks much paler and thinner now, and from the swelling bags under his eyes you could tell that he hasn't really been sleeping well lately. The the rage and hatred you saw last time in his eyes is now replaced with emptiness and sorrow, a severe pain that makes your heart ache for him one more time. He looks so, so broken. So lost, so sad. It hurts a lot seeing him like this, though you'd sworn never to think of him the way you used to again.

"I, I came to say goodbye-" you say nervously. What is Epel having in mind now? How is he going to respond? From the way your last conversation went you could certainly tell that he held nothing else than for you now, but you, could you be the same?

Epel didn't show up to say goodbye which was another evidence of him not wanting to see your face ever again, but something deep inside your heart, something you couldn't let go of ever after he let you down told you to come to say your very last goodbye.

Epel's eyes widen in fascination. This time, he can't hold back his tears from falling. You won't stop surprising him until the very last second, will you?

Right at the moment you are expecting him to be mad and push you back again, he throws himself into your embrace. You are about to say a word, but all you can do is to let Epel feel your warm embrace and the torrent of his tears soak through your shirt. It is too painful to see him like this.

"Wh-why...Why-are you like this-? Why did you come? Why are you still being this kind?? Why can't you just hate me!?" he painfully screams through his tears. You can feel him clench his fists, as he pushes himself closer to you. You have your emotions mixed up, you can't tell wether you should be sad or happy. But here he is, crying into your embrace like he used to do before. For a second it feels like your paths had never been torn apart, that you never got separated and he never said those words which hurt you the most.

You let him rest his head on your shoulder and run your fingers through his hair, time and time again, in an attempt you calm the silent war within his mind.

For the hundredth time, you are reminded of how much he meant to you, from the very moment you were interested in getting to know about the pale lavender-haired guy who's been secretly watching you all the time.

You remember all the times he made you laugh and that sweet smile he always put on when he greeted you in the morning, you remember each and every time that he needed your embrace to either cry or feel a bit better after the hard they he might've gone through.

You remember all the times you silently cried in bed knowing that you were slowly falling for the young boy who you genuinely held dear, that he was slowly becoming the apple of your eye.

And there he was, walking in front of you, unaware of the feelings you, young (y/n) had for him and how he was truly, the one and only for you, the apple of your eye.

Before you know it, Epel is no longer the only one crying. You hold him tighter, pushing your head to his shoulder and letting your hot tears fall off your eyes, realizing how much you've missed him after all this time. Epel doesn't pull back, instead he follows and allows your bodies to come closer and closer, until there's no space left. At the moment your bodies are close enough to become one, he's got the rhythm of your chest raising and on his body and you've got his on yours. Warm breaths brushing against each other's face that it makes it almost hard to breathe.

For a second, it feels as if you and him are the only beings on the whole world and your world is skipped inside the warmth you're drowning through right now. There's no past, no future, no pain, no feelings at all. All you know is the present you're having with him, wishing that this moment would last forever.

"I...I love you," Epel whispers, only loud enough for you to hear him under your fascinated gaze. You let out silent gasp as your head's still on the back of his shoulder.

'What did he just say..?'

Those words...those 3 forbidden words you thought you'd never him Epel them back if you ever did. Yet you kept on loving him, totally aware that he might never develop such feelings for you back.

You were supposed to make a return to your own world by now, all you'd came for was a simple goodbye to someone you were supposed to consider your ex-best friend, but you know that it would be a lie. He wasn't just your best friend, he was once your everything: Your love, your smile, your tears, your hope. Even after he bitterly told you to cut ties with him, you couldn't let go of the feeling. You felt empty without him, a life without him was clueless and dark, you felt so lost, so empty, so brokenhearted. You'd lost Epel, and never thought that you'll ever get to have him close again, let alone hearing him say that he loves you back.

And now, it's all up to you. What are you going to do now? For the first time in a while, your future now relies on nothing but your very own choice. You're caught in the middle of the path, stuck between leaving the twisted wonderland for your very own sake or staying here with Epel, in a stranger world which you don't belong to, next to the guy you once appreciated the most.

With everything you've been going through all this time, what will you choose to do? How will this story come to an end? Choosing to go and leave all the pain together with all the happiness you've been experiencing next Epel all this time behind, or letting go of the past and giving him a second to maybe lead you through a life you once dreamed to have with him?

Epel has probably got a lot more to say other than that three words, knowing that you're probably running out of time if you're going to return to your own world, next to the family and beloved ones you haven't met in forever, are you still going to stay here with Epel and allow him to talk? With all the things that he did to you and made you have a severe mental breakdown afterwards, are you still to give him your attention and love, and let him have a chance to be the apple of your eye again...?

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Okay, so my ask was about fanfics where either John or Sherlock hallucinates and sees the other one after him (allegedly?) dying. As in, actually hallucinates, not mistakes a real one for a hallucination. Have you encountered anything like that?

Anonymous said to inevitably-johnlocked: hi! i hope you're doing fine! i feel really bad for asking, but i really suck at searching, and as i see everyone asking you, i wanted to see if you could help me, if you dont want to, its fine, i feel like im taking adventage of you... im searching for fics post TRF in which John hallucinates with Sherlock, or fics in which Sherlock comes back but John cannot believe it because he hallucinated with him ... im sorry again for bothering you! hope you have a nice day

Hi Lovelies!!

Ahhh, I don’t have a LOT that have this premise, so I’m just going to give you all of the fics I have tagged with hallucinations :) I do suggest “The Quiet Man”, which has this as the primary plot point (down below) and it’s a long one so I think that will best suit you requests, but DO check out all of the others on this list! <3

And as always, Lovelies, if you have something more to what my Nonnies are looking for, please suggest them!

HALLUCINATIONS

Hallucinations can't open doors by Bespectacled dreamer (K+, 1,330 w., 1 Ch. || Reunion, Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Hallucinations, John’s Wedding, Light Humour) – In which John gets married and Sherlock gets a broken nose.

Quite Contrary by Hollyesque (T, 1,805 w., 1 Ch. || HLV Fic, Sherlock Whump / After Mary Shot Sherlock, Hallucinations / Flashbacks / PTSD, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Lestrade POV, ) – A short one-shot, alternate scene to Greg's hospital visit in HLV. Instead of Sherlock disappearing, Greg is faced with an unexpected reaction to a hospitalized Sherlock and winds up figuring out something that he really would have rather not known.

Bitter Nights Turned Sweet by Hyliare (T, 4,076 w., 1 Ch. || Pre-Slash, Insomnia/Hallucinations, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, POV Present Tense John Watson, Cuddling/Snuggling) – Sherlock has always had trouble sleeping; he hasn't always had someone in his life willing to help.

Between Asleep and Awake by katydidit (K, 4,309 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Sick Fic, Post-TRF / Reunion) – John is sick. Incredibly, extremely, dangerously sick. Plagued by a high fever, he begins to hallucinate, start seeing things that aren't really there. Because they can't be there. Can they?

A Is For Aftermath by ElvendorkInfinity (T, 10,567 w., 1 Ch. || Injury / Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Pre-Slash/Bromance/Platonics, Hallucinations, Introspection, Insecure / Worried John, Big Brother Mycroft, Alternating POV, Anxious Sherlock, Self-Deprecating, Mildly Possessive Sherlock, 3G Moment) – John is still hallucinating, Sherlock cannot sleep, and Lestrade has a new case for them. But will life at 221B ever be able to return to normal? Epilogue to M is for Moriarty.

I Will Take Care Of You by SailorChibi (T, 16,664 w., 15 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Sick Sherlock, BAMF John, BAMF Lestrade, Reunion Fic) – Two years after Sherlock's death, John comes to find him on the sofa. Wounded and ill, Sherlock is convinced he's hallucinating and refuses to share any details about Moran or the fact that Mycroft has been compromised. That doesn't stop John from stepping up and taking care of the last of Moriarty's web, BAMF-style.

Wonderful, Etcetera. by VictoryCandescence (T, 16,955 w., 3 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Alternate Timelines, Brotherhood, Homophobia, Suicidal Ideations, Mentions of Drug Use, Friendship, Different TRF, Sherlock’s Past, Victor Trevor is Past Boyfriend, Depression, Hallucination?, Love Confessions, Christmas, First Kiss) – Sherlock thinks everyone would be better off if he had never existed, including and especially himself. When he finds himself in a world in which his wish has been granted, he begins to think perhaps even he could be wrong – but it takes an unlikely chaperone to make him not only observe, but understand.

I Think I've Come A Long Long Way To Sit Before You Here Today by ArwenKenobi (T, 18,251 w., 3 Ch. || Grief/Mourning, Passage of Time, Major Character Death, Alternating POV, Sherlock Whump, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Coma, Revenge Murders, Hallucinations, Love Confessions, Brutal Accident, Mystrade, Ghost John) – One year after John is killed Sherlock starts to wonder whether John has actually gone anywhere.

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

Impossible to Feign by achray (M, 49,204 w., 12 Ch. || TRF Rewrite / Reverse Reichenbach, Suicidal Ideations / Discussions, Drug Use/Abuse, Mutual Pining, Friends With Benefits, John Accepts his Sexuality, Anxious Sherlock, Meddling Mycroft, Depression, Hallucinations, Secret Agent John, BAMF John, Reunion, Make-Up Sex, Ambiguous Ending) – Sherlock leant forward, his long fingers curving round to grip John’s.“I won’t let him win,” he said, eyes hard. “I will do whatever it takes to get you out.”

Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (M, 57,046 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S3/TAB Fix-It, Slow Burn Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Confessions, Drugs, Pain, Medical, Injury, Sherlock Whump, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Romance, Secrets, Tragedy, Trauma, BAMF John, Doctor!John, Drug Addict Sherlock, Injured Sherlock, Grieving John, Idiots In Love, Protective John, POV John Watson, PTSD Sherlock, Sherlock is a Mess, Medical Realism) – An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) (M, 72,684 w., 18 Ch. || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sickfic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Asexual Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Flashbacks, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Case Fic, Sherlock’s Past, Awkward Conversations, Anxious Sherlock) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series (possibly Imaginary Friend)

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

The Quiet Man by ivyblossom (E, 157,369 w., 58 Ch. || Post-TRF, John First POV, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Present Tense, Imaginary Sherlock) – "Do you just carry on talking when I'm away?"

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

[cattles-bians]

exes au part 15

post directory

em: viola teas i am like. incapable of sleeping in

em: i woke up 10:30 on the dot and i thought. what the fuck

em: 10:30 is especially offensive bc it means the mcdonald’s breakfast is done

obsetress: brain immediately said viola up and about doing all the chores vacuuming with no sympathy for her constantly sleeping in snoring girlfriend dani clayton

obsetress: but nah i'm sorry for you that sucks

em: inspiring deranged viola behaviour is

em: the greatest gift of all

obsetress: god so true when u think about it

obsetress: not that viola vacuums, she def has cleaners but

obsetress: actually no

obsetress: she has cleaners but she's prob not satisfied and gets out her expensive vacuum she has no idea how to use and is clattering n making such a fuss

obsetress: and poor dani

em: she’s up and about rearranging things, she’s causing a ruckus,

obsetress: dani's like "you have just as bad insomnia as me and you're just... getting up? that early?"

obsetress: viola shrugs "i don't need that much sleep"

obsetress: "you do, though"

obsetress: she shrugs and disappears into the kitchen

obsetress: insomniac gf and insomniac gf

em: insomnia gfs

em: viola runs on like

em: supernatural element carrying over: viola is a little too good at running on no sleep and no one knows if she ages

obsetress: YEAH

em: i love a sorta, grounded real life show w like one or two unexplained ambiguously supernatural things that no one blinks at

obsetress: i was gonna be like

obsetress: i wonder what dani and viola do when theyre up not sleeping at night and then i was like

obsetress: Well,

obsetress: no they do that but they also do the most random borderline unhinged shit like

obsetress: dani tries new baking recipes and they sit on the countertop in their pjs or underwear or nothing and eat scones at three am

em: go for night drives

em: night drives aren’t even unhinged but they’re nice

em: but they don’t listen to music they listen to fucken podcasts

obsetress: that fuckin lorde song

[em note: it's supercut]

obsetress: they go to the roof and dani lays her head in viola's lap and stares at the stars while viola reads to her in french

obsetress: ugh i put it on oh god why did i put it on

[em note: it's still supercut]

obsetress: in my head.........

obsetress: i do everything right............

obsetress: when you call............

obsetress: i'll forgive and not fight.............

obsetress: ours are the moments.........i play in the dark OH MY GOD VI'S INSOMNIA AFTER DANI LEAVES AND SHES ALONE

em: ur a MONSTER

obsetress: i need to lay on the floor and put this song on repeat

obsetress: anyway um

obsetress: another thought from when i was thinking about the vacuum like

obsetress: viola has a degree of learned helplessness that all rich people have but she's not an idiot like the rest of them yknow and i think like

obsetress: she had to do a lot when she and perdita were kids!

obsetress: after her mom died

em: hannah......

obsetress: and then after her dad died before she married arthur and like

obsetress: then being a single mom (viola lloyd single mom i'm drooling) even w all the help she can afford

obsetress: she has a chip on her shoulder and Does Things For Herself but also just

obsetress: sometimes it happens! there's never enough time and never enough help!

obsetress: and she loves isabel so much like

obsetress: viola making isabel her lunches

obsetress: oh god

em: making her little lunches at like 2am bc it’s been a busy day and she’s tired and she’s sore and she’s sad but the one thing viola will never skip is like

em: making sure isabel gets her lunches

em: hey what is wrong with us

obsetress: GOD YEAH

obsetress: EXACTLY

obsetress: HOW DID YOU KNOW I WAS THINKING ABOUT HER MAKING THEM AT TWO AM UGH

obsetress: anyway um yeah viola making isabel her lunches at two am

obsetress: i know that i wrote jamie leaving flora notes on her napkins but like

[em note: read 'and she taught me a lesson alright']

obsetress: i just think it's something a mom who really loves her kid and wants them to feel safe and okay would do so i want to say vi does it for isabel too!!! and what of it they're different universes it's fine

em: ur just building the hannah obsetress cinematic universe

em: building up some Themes and Motifs

obsetress: themes motifs and symbols

obsetress: anyway viola packing isabels lunches she writes little notes and puts on lipstick n kisses them

obsetress: so isabel can get a kiss from her mom

em: im going to kill u w my bare hands

obsetress: cut to vi in the bathroom wiping it off later à la jennifer check

em: im GONNA

obsetress: sometimes when vi has to go out of town for business or w/e she leaves a stack of napkins with arthur to put in isabel's lunch so she can still get a kiss from her mom even when she's gone

em: thats so extra??

em: its so viola

obsetress: exactly

obsetress: she definitely has a fear of isabel favoring arthur over her (abandonment issues etc etc)

obsetress: gestures at canon

—-

em: dani 'its casual' taylor

obsetress: leave the typo

obsetress: dont you dare change it

em: i need u to know that i DO fuck but

em: hgfngjkyhGJBJKFHD FUCK

em: ruined my own joke

obsetress: in the most spectacular way

em: dani 'i need you to know i DO fuck but im accepting offers' clayton

obsetress: she takes care to drop that like

obsetress: it's just casual SHE'S not anything serious. i'm not dating HER or anything

obsetress: jamie's like dani i know you're gay you literally stare at my lips every time i talk

em: dani getting off the phone and dramatically rolling her eyes like 'ex girlfriends, am i right? whats up with these women i-' and jamies like love i get it

obsetress: jamie raising her eyebrows "how many ex girlfriends do you have"

obsetress: dani's like "well, just the one, but"

em: but i COULD have more. if i wanted to. bc i am looking to date more women

em: jamies like ok cool

obsetress: jamie, a little too casually: oh? any, uh. prospects?

em: danis like (patented nervous dani lip bite) maybe but

em: jamies like drat

em: jamies like darn

em: and then she gets home and shes like

em: wait

obsetress: jamie calling dani back "when you said maybe"

obsetress: and dani immediately is like yEAH?

em: jamies like do you think you could ever be interested in me and danis like umm. yeah.

em: jamie hangs up like ok cool

em: long beat

obsetress: oh my GOD

em: REDIALS

---

obsetress: ok last thing i was gonna say

obsetress: i meant to say this earlier and got distracted a hundred times over

obsetress: but um imagine dani helping isabel with her english homework

obsetress: vi helping isabel with her math homework

em: ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

em: SOFT

obsetress: well,

em: oh no

obsetress: isabel needing help w her english homework post dani and vi's trying to help and vi's smart n all but

em: get HELP

---

em: dani 'hooking up w my ex is actually a v girlboss of me' is SO funny to me

em: when they get together danis like, oh but havent we all- and jamies like nooo i have very good boundaries

em: except for the perdi vi psychosexual power play ig

obsetress: moment of weakness

obsetress: who wouldn't want to hook up w their hot boss

—

obsetress: when dani goes up to london whatever weekend like friday night to get her closure dinner with vi

obsetress: boom haircut and therapy reveal

em: 3 day bender u say

obsetress: all of a sudden it's sunday night and

obsetress: YEAH

obsetress: they spend

obsetress: all fucking weekend

obsetress: in vi's bed

em: sighs dreamily

obsetress: dani playing with her hair

obsetress: "this is nice"

obsetress: "i'm gonna miss your bun though"

obsetress: vi's brain is short circuiting at "i'm gonna miss"

em: later danis like look. jamie. what would you have done? and jamie chokes on her beer and splutters 'not fuck my ex for 3 days straight?!'

obsetress: dani "well you've never fucked v–– oh wait"

obsetress: "you really can't blame me, jamie, you KNOW" jamie: (grumbles)its different... dani: well i mean i guess, technically, you didnt,

obsetress: unrelated in some bad fight at the end vi is like "you can't go isabel needs a–– you're like her–––" and dani's like "a what? say it" and viola's too stubborn and proud and hurt to say it

em: just perpetually bouncing back to the worlds angstiest break up

obsetress: i don't know WHY

obsetress: as someone who HATES ANGST

obsetress: i am so DRAWN to these two

em: its ummmm weirdly cathartic??

em: the whole exes au is based on a joke about them being friends and exes. we are v firm in like. viola and dani reconcile!

em: idk i love a catharsis moment! i love it when a character claws their way to happiness. or even begrudgingly goes to therapy

em: viola can go through a little hell as a treat

obsetress: turns out the only one who could fix her in the end

obsetress: was the one who said it's not my job to fix you

em: dani transformative power of (platonic) love

obsetress: "Platonic"

[voidselfshipp]

Tender heart

[Chapter one]

Tw:mentions of past trauma andfood

Summary: jericos first week on the job as team rainbows psicologist was boring, until her first patient walks in for help and later that day a friend of her takes her to the sea to talk.

Ok to rb

Its been a week already, jerico silently sat on her Office, the cracking of the Fire was the only thing that could be heard, the houseplants hanged from the ceiling, two sofas infront of the fireplace, and her desk with cluttered Papers books a warm Cup of tea and a family photo.

She had been introduced in team rainbow last week, so far none of the operators didnt come by to talk.

See,her job was more of a moral support and psicologist, it was boring since no-one came by for help.

Distracted from her thoughts by her pet eagle playing in her bird playground, nibbling at the plastic keys hanging from a pole.

The bird caws flying to her owners shoulder nuzzling jeris hair cawing.

--its been very boring week, dont you think sunshine?--she scratches under the eagles beak smiling as sunshine nibbled on her finger playfully.

She then sighed thinking itll be like any other boring day,nobody would come by and her resume at the end of the week for Harry would be empty.

Sunshine flied back to her playground and entered the medium sized wooden house.

The silent falls heavy on the room again, she clicks her pen trying to get herself distracted.

A psicologist that struggles with intrusive thoughts,aint that ironic?.

But then,the little bell ontop of her door rang, hesitant soft steps are heard as a Man, around fifty enters.

He pushes his dishveiled dark brown hair back, panting softly, he seemed to be in a hurry--uh hello?-- he wasnt sure how to start conversations.

Jeri looked up when she heard the chime,and smiled warmly at the newcomer-- welcome--jeri would be lying if she told you that a feeling of excitement didnt settle on her chest when the Man entered and sat infront of her--whats the matter

The Man looked away,trying to think of a way of explaining it, he then remembered the file that was tucked neatly under his arm, he hands it to her--Harry told me to give this to you before our session

Jerico took the file and read it.

The first paper was more of a summary than a proper introduction.

"Ryad al-hassar Ramírez.

Age:53

Al-hassar suffers from chronic insomnia,slight shifts of mood outside work and an obssesion with his brothers murder.

The last one is a sensitive thing to talk about, proceed with caution".

Jer closed the file and left it on the table intertwining her hands togheter leaning in.

--Well ryad,before we start Ill introduce myself,I dont remember you in the line up when I got here last week,im jerico, nice to meet you

She extended her hand, and he shook it,he was a bit nervous, therapy wasnt the best thing for him during his life, hes a very Stubborn Man.

--well whats on your mind?-- she asked.

He struggled to find his words, maybe it was a mix of things, the cute therapist infront of him, the tenderness with wich she was handling him, and the fact that he hasnt had a proper therapist in a good while.

--Well, what can I say-- he started--things are a bit tense at the moment with ash's and kali's fight, then theres been talk of making me take a month off for health issues, I mean its ridiculous im perfectly fine!,maybe im low on energy but its nothing a couple of cups of coffee cant fix

She perked up, Ryad swore he saw her ears move a little when she looked up to him--Couple cups of coffee?--she inquired,his body tensed as he realized the slip up he just made--tell me ryad, how Many cups are we talking about, one? Two?

The Man looked away in shame, muttering --Five

He waited to be reprimated, he was ready to get yelled at as his previous encounters went, instead though he gained a warm hand on his wrist, squeezing it Gently--does those cups of coffee help you with your day?maybe that has to do with the talk of taking the month off

Ryad sighed his tone a bit more stern than before-- I dont need a month off, I just need to get some sleep,I can still do things!

Jeri flinches at the sudden elevation of his voice, Harry had told him that she was very sensitive to loud noises.

He calms down --Im sorry I..i shouldnt have yelled at you...

He heard her chuckle and softly shook his hand--Dont worry, I know what you meant, sometimes in order to do things we need to take a step back,it May hurt and we May hate it at first,but in the long run itll help-- she stood up, her hand leaving his and walking up to the water Cooler--Tea? Itll help you relax

It couldnt hurt at this point.

So they kept talking for a bit longer, ryad was slowly getting more and more convinced that maybe that month off would do him good.

He sighed chuckling softly looking up from his cup to jeri-- youre very good at this --He said.

--Hmm?

--im very stubborn but somehow you made me change my mind,I think ill take the month off

Jer smiled--well, If theres anything else I can do for you

He had loosen up and she took a glimpse to his charming and romantic self, she wasnt preparing for the following,though--can I get your number?--he playfully winked at her, she chuckled along with her cheeks red....she could always say its because of the fireplace.

--Well I can give you my card if you need anything,in your file says you live off base, so maybe itll be helpfull for you

She gave a small bussiness card and he took it shoving it in his pocket.

--Well, thats all--he said standing up handing her the cup--Thanks

Jeri smiled--Glad I could help!

When he left,she put her forehead against her desk sighing,rainbow had some good looking people, now her work would be extra difficult.

At afternoon she closed her Office,she told Harry to tell the operators to swing by her room if they needed anything.

Now there she was eating her food in bed, laptop on her legs watching a movie with sunshine tucked under her arm, sleeping soundly.

A soft Knock interrupted her dinner-- who is it?--she asked.

--its ngugi,ngugi furaha

Jeri leaves the PC and food on the bed running to Open the door--Wamai! Good to see you, whats up?

The kenyan Man leans on the windowsill,Him and jeri had become somewhat Friends since he had helped her move in.

--I just need to clear my mind,I was hoping we could go down at the beach and talk?

Oh yeah,ngugi had certain affinity with the sea, she figured it would make their talk be more loose, so she put on some flip-flops and went down to town and then to the beach.

Its a starry clear night, the sea rocked softly against the sand, both felt the Ocean as a home, it was something they had bonded over.

--So--jer said with hands on her pockets--whats on your mind?

He proceded to tell her about the fight between ash and kali,how worried he was that it would end up in something worse, fearing that it would spark into something more violent.

They stopped and sat near the shore,she put a hand on his back patting it softly.

--I promise this Will be fine, Harry,zero and I are working hard on making sure this doesnt go even more south,for now id advice you to relax,tomorrow morning you could go for a swim,itll help you wind down

--I guess youre right--his arm pulled her closer, hed noticed she was shivering--Thanks jer

--Youre welcome.

They sat there in silence for a bit longer,enjoying the calm.

He was about to say something about heading back but jerico was already asleep, so he lifted her up and took her back to base to her room.

His own quarters were at the other side of the building, surely jerico wouldnt mind if he stayed the night.

This was confirmed when not only did he felt jeri make herself comfortable against his back but her own eagle, who had fame of being very protective over her owner, cuddled up to him.

He chuckled petting the bird,then Yawning, turning off his brain for the night, with an inexplicable feeling of warmth on his chest.

[sebspocketsquare]

Wishing you were here... 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (chatroom)

A/N: Hey guys! Here’s the first real thing I’ve worked on this year... oops! Anyway, I’ve had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope you enjoy reading it! Part 1 is mostly just a preview of what’s to come, I have other, longer chapters written and I’m thinking I’ll post once a week! Let me know what you think! (PS i did put a ‘read more’ link in here, so hopefully it works!)

Warnings: language, maybe? flirting? pet names

Masterlist

The only light illuminating your bedroom is the one that comes from your computer screen - bright, almost blinding, and making your eyes silently scream for sleep. 

You’re moments from giving in, from turning away from the chat room you’d found your way into a few weeks ago, hoping that you’d find someone to take the edge off your loneliness.

Unfortunately, all you’d managed to find was creepy 60 year old men begging to see your breasts. You weren’t here for it. 

A long yawn escapes you, the kind that makes you raise your arms over your head and extend your entire spine. You’re in the process of lowering your arms to exit out of the chat program, when a new IM appears on your screen.

[Sarge1917]: Hello.

You refrain from rolling your eyes, willing yourself to believe that this one won’t be a creep… but there’s a nagging thought in the back of your head, one that whispers: he’s just like the rest.

You reply anyway.

[SpaceKitten]: Hi there.

It takes a few moments before you receive a response.

[Sarge1917]: How are you?

You’re used to the first question someone asks you being “pics?” Or “dtf?” You can’t even think of one person on this god awful site that asked you how you were.

[SpaceKitten]: Honestly.. I’m exhausted. How are you?

His reply is almost instant this time.

[Sarge1917]: Oh, about the same. It’s pretty late where I am.. nearly morning, but I just can’t sleep. What’s got you up?

The fact that he has taken the time to try to have a normal conversation with you has you appalled… but also intrigued.

[SpaceKitten]: My mind won’t stop racing. I’m up all night, every night. I’d blame insomnia, but…

You hit the send button before you realize it. 

  [Sarge1917]: but…?

You don’t expect him to reply so quickly and you face an internal struggle: do you be honest, or do you lie? 

He’s a complete stranger, so why not tell the truth?

[SpaceKitten]: Honestly, I’ve never liked sleeping alone.. Once the sun sets and night takes over I.. I’m overwhelmed with how lonely I really am. I can’t stop thinking about it.

He doesn’t respond straight away this time, and you’re afraid you might’ve scared him off. Fiddling with a random toy on your desk, you anxiously await the sound of a new IM coming through.

[Sarge1917]: We have more in common than you think. I know that feeling, exactly, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. I’m sorry.

You’re chewing your lip as you re-read each word, letting it soak in. 

A total creep would never speak to you in such a sweet way, right? 

You decide to be brave.

[SpaceKitten]: I keep telling myself that Mr. Right will come along some day and sweep me off my feet, but.. The more I think about it, the more it seems unlikely.

[Sarge1917]: Why’s that?

You sit back in your chair for a moment, letting out a long sigh as you contemplate your response. You’d been honest with him so far, so why not continue on that note?

[SpaceKitten]: Honestly?

[Sarge1917]: Honestly.

Taking in a large breath, you write out your reply.

[SpaceKitten]: Honestly.. most of the men I’ve gone on dates with, and the ones I’ve met here only want one thing from me.. and I’m not looking for just that, you know? I want something.. real, I guess? That probably sounds stupid..

His response is delayed for a few moments, but when it finally shows on your screen, you have to bite back a smile.

[Sarge1917]: Not stupid at all.

[Sarge1917]: In fact, I’d like to apologize on behalf of all of the men who have made you feel like a sex object.

[Sarge1917]: Nowadays, most men are.. for a lack of a better word, pigs. It makes all of us look bad.

[Sarge1917]: You deserve better than that. You deserve to be treated like a goddess.

[SpaceKitten]: Oh, I don’t know about a ‘goddess’, but.. I’d like to at least be treated like a person.

[Sarge1917]: Like an equal.

[SpaceKitten]: It’s like you read my mind.

[Sarge1917]: (:

You’re not sure how late you stayed up talking to your new mystery friend, mostly because you end up falling asleep at the keyboard. The only reason you wake is the sun peeking through the curtains and directly on your face. 

The first thing you’re acutely aware of is that your back and neck are killing you. You’ve got drool stuck to your cheek and you’re quite sure the shape of the keys are embedded into the side of your face. 

You couldn’t look worse. 

The computer is still up and running, your chat app still open, along with your conversation.

You feel guilt flood your belly immediately.

While having such a pleasant conversation, you fall asleep on him? What kind of jerk does that make you?

The guilt starts to swirl and alter to another emotion as you read the last bit of your conversation over, the skin up your neck and to your cheeks burning with.. embarrassment? Desire? You weren’t sure.

[Sarge1917]: Well, kitten, it would appear you’ve fallen asleep on me. Can’t say I blame you, it’s nearly 7am here..

[Sarge1917]: I really enjoyed talking with you. And I’m glad I was able to help you find a way to sleep.

There’s a long time gap between the last message and the next.

[Sarge1917]: I was thinking.. maybe if you wanted.. we could talk again? I don’t know what it is, but.. I really would like to get to know you better.

[Sarge1917]: Would that be alright with you?

[Sarge1917]: I hope so.. Sweet dreams, kitten.

How could you possibly say no?

Night after night, week after week, you fall asleep at your desk messaging back and forth with Sarge. He’s sweet, charming and almost a little too perfect in some ways. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t grown attached - the kind of attached when chatting with him was the highlight of your day; the kind where you’d once spent an entire hour wondering what the color of his eyes were and if he has a beard or not. 

It’s the kind where you’re afraid that someday, he might disappear.

6 months later, you were still conversing every day, but that fear just seemed to grow and grow. How long would this last?

You’re in your usual spot at your computer with your usual snacks, listening to music. It’s late, your neighbors have already gone to sleep, and it almost feels like you’re the only person left awake in the entire world.

Until a new IM notification appears on your screen.

TAGS: (sorry if you dont like being tagged, its been so long since i’ve posted idk who to tag anymore lolol. @mindingmyownbusiness @plumfondler  @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @loricameback @tinaferraldo @geminimoonbeamx  @preserumsteverogers @moderapoppins @lowkeysebby @buckyshattergirl  @jayattemptstoruletheworld   @the-observant-fangirl @moondancewrites @moonbeambucky @trinityjadec  @stevieang  @bionic-buckyb @eyecandybarnes @propertyofpoeandbucky @promarvelfangirl @ballyhoobarnes @bucky-plums-barnes @cate-lynne @witchymarvelspacecase @imaginingbucky @theimpossibleg1rl

[heesgf]

guardian angel!park seonghwa. spectrum

plot: seonghwa is sent to offer you guidance, but leaves with the memory of your lips against his. 

word count: 1.6 k 

pairing: guardian angel! seonghwa x reader

warnings: heated scenes, smoking/drinking mentions

a/n: inspired by hwa’s angelic beauty and my insomnia...this is my first time writing for ateez!!!🥺💖 i hope that you will give this a chance and enjoy<3

✦✧✦✧

“Pass me a light?”

           A shield of bluish silver follows as he walks underneath the pier’s street lights. The warmth pools at his feet and he moves briskly, steps soft against pebbled sands and a single hand sliding through dark locks of his silky hair.

           The sounds of laughter and cheering can still be heard through the hallway with wide ceilings, the vast corridor that connects the beach house to the veranda, and now, as waves ripple against marbled rock, you can hear the voices of your friends bouncing off the rampant waters. There is a party inside, but the unwavering sea is where your heart lies tonight; next to the silhouette of a tall boy in a tight white t-shirt and light blue skinny jeans. He has a hand outstretched and without looking, your fingers fiddle in your pockets to find what he’s asked for—you don’t know him. But there’s something about being in the company of a stranger that makes the frigid air a little easier to breathe, makes the cool evening breeze warmer to the touch, and the humidity of summer’s end melt away with the brief brush of his fingers against your palm.

           You look at him only when he pulls the cigarette to his lips and takes the first puff. Thick, black smoke lingers around his jutted chin, enough of a contrast against his bronze plated skin to make your lips fall open. He captures the light of passing cars and you can see the heart of the ocean in his eyes. He looks to you once he lets out a soft hum. Blazing eyes with a hint of emerald green, they stare opposite to yours with dark eyebrows to frame, one slightly raised while the other sits knitted, and you think breathing might not be so easy after all.

“Do I know you?” You ask before he can get the words out.

           The boy shifts on the cement aisle and smiles a crooked smile. He spares a single glance up to the night sky, once embroidered with hundreds upon thousands of shimmering stars, although tonight, there seem to be none. There are no distant sparkles, no gleams blasting from the ether—none other than the rays of incandescence that radiate from his skin. Looking back at you, he shrugs.

“I’m not so sure.” He ponders, then a wink. “You might’ve seen me in a dream.”

           He has a voice that matches the sheer divinity of his smile. A velvety drawl with a husk that lies somewhere deep in the back of his throat and it’s a voice you want to imagine sing every song you’ve ever heard. Now, there seems to be a hint of amusement in his eyes, like he’s awaiting your next move, like he’s never seen anything like you before; never anyone so calm in the face of his carefully orchestrated chaos. Far in the distance, ocean waves move in a harmonic pendulum, as air rises from the tops of sea rocks and nips at the tip of your nose, a sweet sensation against the warmth growing in your cheeks. Strident waves devour the surface of pillowy sands, taking their secrets with it, burying them deep within the ocean’s treasure chest of mysteries, a sight that seems almost prolific. For a moment, you think you’d very much like that—to feel cool salty waters latch onto your body and rid your spirit of those things you’d been holding onto to for far too long, a cleanse of the mind and soul—you think you’d very much like that. The boy clears his throat and you think you might’ve been silent for too long; there’s a sudden longing for recklessness that bangs against your chest. 

“Can I kiss you?”

The first thing you notice is the way his cheeks flush.

           He is striking in the way that he looks at you, utterly mystified. You can see the tops of his ears turn a sheepish shade of pink, and smile at the way his lips part so suddenly. There is something different about his aura now, like he’s giving into his desires. With his face so artfully confused, you swear you’ve seen him somewhere before, perhaps etched hundreds of times in your endless pits of sketch books, his is a face you would never want to forget, a face of which you’d only hope to capture half its beauty on paper, and still fail every time.

“I would’ve asked you first.”

           Suddenly, there is the sensation of his cold hand against your waist, while the other traces fondly at your jaw. Your hands rapidly move toward the back of his neck, brushing over soft tufts of his hair, and he lowers his plush lips onto yours in a jumble of emotion. The first thing you feel is the soft pressure, steady enough to uphold the out-pour of chills at the base of your spine, alongside a warmth at the face that fills you entirely. His hands curve up to frame your cheekbones, press smoothly along your temples, and when his lips draw apart for a moment, you feel the coolness of his teeth tug against your bottom lip. He amps up the force of his affections and your hands now tangle in his hair; he lets out a sharp breath.

“I want to feel you.” You whisper, pulling the fabric of his t-shirt and immediately he abides—throwing the white frock into a pit of sand—you fasten yourself into his embrace.

           His chest, unlike his hand, is hot to the touch, and there’s a thin sheen of sweat that layers over his taut muscles. You can feel his lips sliding down from yours as they now slip firmly against your neck; your hands travel down his body, it’s lithe under the pads of your fingers without even seeing it. There’s not a glimmer in the sky because he seems to be garnering it all within himself. He kisses like his lips leave stardust in their wake, like the running of his fingers against your face and body are the suns of his affection, he is celestial in all ways but one—you swear he belongs in the sky, amidst the heavens and the angels—but tonight he’s here with you. For the first time, it feels like destiny.

           You let your hands ravage his skin, sweeping down his back where you feel two long scars. They run from the tip of his shoulder blades to the small of his back, his lips still furiously nip at your collarbones. You squeeze his bicep and press a kiss to his shoulder, blinking into his skin and breathing in his fatal scent. There is a nuance in the air that is so effortlessly intoxicating, your eyes flutter with what feels like exhaustion and echoes in your bones as the wanton desire to sleep by his side—somehow, he feels you. He pulls away from your body and nods into the nape of your neck, the caress of his eyelashes prickly on your hot skin—you let your hands run up and down his back.

           By the time the two of you lie side by side on a quilted blanket along the shore, you can see the remnants of a lightless moon making way for its vibrant counterpart. He holds his hand against your head, which falls softly against his bare chest. Without knowing, your eyes are misty with tears, and you are tracing your finger along what could be a tattoo, but looks more like writing that was woven into his skin. Still, in your dizzied wake, the words are clear; puris omnia pura.

To the pure, all things are pure. Somehow you know.

“Suits you.” The last thing you say before your eyelids come to a close, the morning sun peaks its head into the sky, and the sound of his breathing the most harmonious of lullabies.

✦✧✦✧

The colours of the morning sky are delicate.

           With the sun high in the sky, and the allure of iridescent gold, it looks as if it’s been hand painted for only your eyes to see. You wake up on the beach, body tucked tightly into a quilted blanket upon the sand, the gentle lapping of ocean waves against the shore your alarm clock.

Tucked in the pocket of your silken blouse is a note with small cursive letters.

               Puris omnia pura.

        I think it suits you a lot more.

                 -Seonghwa                          

✦✧✦✧

Bonus:

           Seonghwa’s sworn never to do such a thing. Never to feel the way he has, especially not for a human. This is his art, his craft, now, his life—these are forces not to be meddled with—and yet, he finds himself so pliable in your arms. He was moved by more than just the will of the heavens to kiss you, he felt it within himself. With every fragment of his existence, he knew he’d never wanted anything else more, and for the first time since dispatch, he felt something foreign stir up within him. He is sworn never to do such a thing. To leave the human world without a trace is his duty… though he left his memory firmly in your care. He’d even given you his name. His real name, the one he’d been gifted at birth. A part of him had left it in hopes that one day you would find him. No, a part of him had left it because he knew that one day you would find him. Seonghwa’s sworn never to do such a thing.

But he thinks he’d pry open the doors to heaven if it meant he could see you again.

✦✧✦✧

a/n: as i finish this up !! it’s 5am and im going a little crazy but i hope u enjoy this!!💕 it’s been a little bit of a rough time so this is mostly self indulgent but nonetheless :’-)) i hope it was worth reading<3 as always, feedback is loved and appreciated🥺 and if u want more ateez stuff lmk hehe.... 

[selfshipstuff]

Love Tropes Asks: Michael

ok that’s it

im just gonna go fucking Ape Shit Feral. no asks necessary BINCH

prompts from this post

answers got long af so the rest are under the Read More

Aborted Declaration of Love

We both just kind of suffer for a while, quietly trying to get up the courage to say something, but he’s really shy, and I’m impatient with myself, so I’m the one mostly initiating it-- and it ends up with a bunch of accidental awkward silences where I’m like, obviously trying to tell him something (even he can tell) but I lose my nerve at the last second and just sort of nervously laugh it off. Eventually, I do confess, and I actually wrote a confession fic here. 

It went well enough!! We’re both just a bundle of nerves and anxiety, so it’s sort of clunky, but it goes well. :)

Accidental Hand-Hold

At first we don’t even notice, probably, because technically the first hand-holding to occur is most likely during a team fight-- when one of us is helping the other off the ground or pulling the other out of harm’s way. In the moment, we don’t think anything of it, focused on the situation and all; later, though? Oh my god, the realizations... the blushy tossing and turning in bed, staring at the ceiling and yearning....

My first purposeful hand-hold is actually before we’re together: I tend to do that thing where like, when comforting someone or starting a serious conversation, you take their hands in yours. It’s just sort of... grounding, and intimate, and like... I don’t know, it just feels right. Once we’re together, I love to take his hand and kiss the back of it at random while we’re holding hands. (He always gets so flustered, it’s adorable!)

The first time Michael moves to hold my hand is probably sometime around the time of the confession. Maybe a little before (during the yearning stage) or a little bit after (during the honeymoon stage) but honestly, it becomes so natural for him to just like... reach over and thread our fingers together that I don’t really know when it started. We both have a fair amount of anxiety, so it’s a simple, quick, easy, and sweet fix for when one or both of us feels it creeping up-- and like, who doesn’t like to feel the touch of their lover every once in a while?

After-Action Patch-Up

This trope happens a lot, actually, given the nature of the source material. I mean, we’re essentially a superhero team, so we’re on the front lines of the action 24/7; in the comic, everybody gets beaten up fairly often and usually to a wince-inducing (occasionally tears-inducing) extent. So you’d think we would be used to it, given the world we (he and my self-insert) live in, but... yeah, that’s not the case. 

When Michael sees that I’m hurt, it sort of depends-- I mean, 100%, he hates it and it’s upsetting to him, and he’s gonna be extra gentle and probably trace the injuries with his fingertips (or his gaze, if the injury’s too sensitive) but if he sees me being actively hurt by someone? Ooh. I’m definitely the more feral one generally speaking, but in this particular circumstance, he might give me a run for my money. Just picture this gentle, angelic dude going full “eliminate the threat and get them out of danger” mode. 

Of course, afterward, he’s immediately landing and rushing over to me (dropping to his knees if I’m on the ground) and frantically looking me over, hands hovering nervously over my skin, voice all shaky and quieter than usual when he speaks. hhh Anyway-- he does have some knowledge of first aid, since he grew up all isolated in the mountains and he had to know how to help himself and his family when things took a turn for the worse; mostly, he’ll patch me up however he can, and if it’s bad enough he’ll leave the fight to get me to safety and/or a hospital (depending on how close to done the fight is). If he’s not too badly hurt toward the end of a fight, he likes to help the paramedics patch up his teammates who are worse-off; if I’m among them, I’m the one he goes to. 

When I see him hurt, there’s... a lot less hesitation and a lot more ass-kicking. I’ll be honest, I’m really protective in general and I can’t handle seeing the people I love get hurt in any way, shape, or form. This fact combined with my feral energy is kind of a recipe for disaster at times, considering we’re supposed to be the good guys-- I mean, I’ve got a feeling it’s not great for the team’s image if I just fuckin’ electrocute anyone who hurts my boyfriend. Regardless, though, if anyone seeks him out (in a fight or otherwise) with ill intent, they better be prepared for the death and/or thorough beating they’ve earned. There’s a particular event in canon that haunts me so much I had a dream about it, and I ended up just... losing control of my powers and just completely fucking destroyed this girl who-- hhhh. Anyway.

When it comes to how I treat him afterward, it’s much the same-- the horror of seeing him like that and the cautious gentleness I treat him with are pretty much exactly the same, and we both do that hand-hovering thing like we aren’t sure if we’re allowed to touch (or we’re scared to hurt our love even more). One thing I always end up doing is just. Brushing his hair out of his face and tucking it behind his ears until eventually I just... ever so carefully bring my hands up to cradle his face-- usually just one cheek at first, and if he leans into it, I starting tearing up on the spot. Then I just... gently bonk our foreheads together because like jesus christ I almost lost you. I’m so glad you’re still here. After the fight, for the long run, I’m very doting toward him when he’s recovering; I’m not the nagging “you have to rest” type, but I’m more softly affectionate and I bring him things, do things for him. 

Almost Kiss

I’m not sure when exactly our first kiss is, although it’s probably during the same scene as the confession fic I linked in the first answer-- but as for how it is? Oh my god. 

He’s not experienced at all, like... I’m his first kiss, and it’s obvious because he’s so clearly anxious about it. Luckily, I do have a little experience, and also we’re both just super gentle-- in general, but especially with each other. It’s soft and uncertain, but we tend to melt into each other in pretty much any scenario because we’re just,, so comfortable with each other. So it’s only uncertain for a short bit before we’re pulling away all starstruck, breathless and giddy, only to go back in for another (and probably several more after that, to be honest.)

Beautiful Dreamer

Hmm. Well, it’s kind of hard to say who falls asleep first? Michael struggles with trauma-induced insomnia, and my sleep schedule is terrible-- plus, if he can’t sleep, I like to stay up with him (even if I doze off a few times while he’s reading) so... I mean, I guess on the nights that he sleeps, he’s the first to fall asleep? It probably helps that like, apparently when I play with people’s hair they get sleepy. (I have... the magic touch...) And I mean, it’s cheesy and predictable, but he is beautiful when he’s sleeping. He’s always gorgeous, but when he’s asleep he just,, relaxes in a way he never really seems to when he’s awake. 

On nights where I doze off first, it probably takes him a little while to notice because, like I sort of mentioned, he likes to read when he can’t sleep; he gets completely engrossed in the stories, and like, on occasion he’ll read something he thinks is cute or funny and he’ll grin and look over/down to share it with me, but sometimes he’s like oh because I’ve just... quietly fallen asleep all cosied up to him. And he just immediately softens and slowly blushes, usually just... pausing to study me for a moment before remembering the book, then he just kinda,, haphazardly bookmarks the page before setting it aside and shuffling around a bit so he can cuddle up to me. Sometimes this leads to him dozing off, too, but not always!

Regardless of the situation, though, we always sleep better when we’re together.

Bodyguard Crush

Okay but like... Michael just being himself is what makes me feel safe?? Everything about him just feels like home to me. He’s so gentle, and sweet, and like... hhh. I just feel like, there’s no question as to whether he would be accepting of me for who I am in my entirety, and that just means,, so much to me, you have no idea-- like I,,, I’m not actually super confident in myself a lot of the time, and I project this confidence anyway because I’m working on it, but I do usually have anxieties and doubts about how people perceive me, whereas with Michael there’s just this... exceedingly rare peace of mind. Like, most of the time, I have to try so hard to convince myself (like, “yeah, they’d totally be accepting, and if not, they can be in your canon” which isn’t as comforting as I’d like it to be) but like, with him it’s not even a question?

And like, I just... like I said, he’s so gentle, sweet, and understanding, and he’s just... like, he doesn’t want to hurt anyone, and he’s so careful not to when it’s not necessary. He’s so quietly aware of people, and like... I dunno, I just,, I tend to be that person for people, and often it feels like my own feelings go unnoticed or ignored, but I’m like... actually confident that he would. Notice?? And be good to me???? Which is just,, so wild of a concept but it’s exactly what I need.

And then like. This one’s not great of me, but the fact that we both have trauma to deal with actually kind of makes me feel better. I mean obviously I hate that he’s traumatized and it fucking HURTS that people have treated him like this, but I just-- like, I don’t know, I just. I don’t really talk about it, but sometimes I feel broken, or like I’ll never be good enough, or like I’m actually a horrible person, but then like... with Michael, I just,, it’s so clear to me that like... he’s not broken or terrible or insufficient because of his struggles, not at all, and y’know, I think we’re good for each other and that we make each other happy, and that feeling kind of just... fades? Wanes? It’s not gone completely, and I don’t know if it ever will be, but still, he makes me feel secure. 

Um. I guess one last one!! Michael is shown to be very caring and like... he’s always fighting for people, and he’s got this gentle protective nature-- in canon he’s got this tendency to take on responsibility for others’ safety, and it hurts because he blames himself when they get hurt but it’s also just,, he’s so selfless, okay?? And he just,,, I know he would fight for me and like, put in the effort, and potentially stick his neck out for me, and that’s terrifying because I don’t want him to get hurt but on the other hand like... it means I know he’s got my back. 100%. And I mean... what can feel safer than that?? Because I’ve got his back too, so I’ll be doing my damnedest to make sure he doesn’t get hurt, and I can feel confident that I won’t be taking the brunt of things because he’s doing the same for me. If that makes sense dgjkjkdhgkj

Caught in the Rain

Ah, okay, well... the thing is, I lovvvveeeee the rain, so I would be ecstatic for a second, but then I remember like, fuck, Michael. Because the rain actually makes Michael sort of nervous, and I guess you could say, uh... flighty? See, like, his wings are A Thing and his feathers don’t repel water like duck feathers do-- his just get waterlogged, and then he can’t fly, so he’s grounded until he can dry off and fix them up, which makes him very anxious. Usually, he just freezes for a second and I have to sorta shepherd him into an area where there’s cover from the rain. 

If it takes too long and he gets rained on, he gets fidgety and tense, and I gotta like... gently tug him over to a place we can sit down so I can help him dry off. It’s a really,,, really soft thing, actually, because um. Okay, basically, like, winged creatures like birds usually only let their mates help them preen & stuff. So,,, it’s like,, a trust and intimacy thing. Also, I mean, it’s a cute picture: this lanky winged dude just,, sitting down, totally drenched from the rain, and his doting partner just slowly evaporating the water from his wings with their energy powers (heated hands come in Handy). I mean, come on. 

Grow Old With Me

Uhh... well, I guess we haven’t been together very long, IRL or in-universe. I will say, though, it feels like we’ve been together forever from how comfortable and natural it is. 

Laugh of Love

Okay, well, Michael... isn’t always very good with jokes, because he’s so new to pop culture, but he can be very silly sometimes. Actually, he used to be embarrassed about it, but sometimes he might play up the fact that he doesn’t get it, just to see me try not to laugh. I try not to laugh when it happens because like, it’s not his fault, and I don’t want him to think I’m laughing at him, but he’s just so darn cute omg-- but at some point he figures out that I find it a little bit amusing and he just jumps on that because he wants to see my smile skjdkjk

Alternatively, he can also just like. Compliment me too much and I’ll just start laughing out of embarrassment while protesting because like idk how to take a compliment

Love Epiphany

Ah, well, I mean, I realize pretty quickly that I’m crushing on him, because like, he’s so cute and sweet, FUCK-- love, though? Love with a capital L? That takes a little longer. Basically, the timeline is like, I met him and started crushing, then as I got to know the team (including him) a little better, we became fast friends and I tend to appreciate my friends very deeply, so that was another step-- and then just... as we got to know each other I gradually started to note some thoughts and feelings that weren’t quite platonic, and I kinda swept them under the rug at first because I’m an affectionate person and also I’m not straight so my affection lines are sometimes a little blurred. When they got more and more common though, I just kind of... had to admit it. Like, man, I’m a fairly logical being; if the evidence is all pointing one way, I guess that’s the most likely explanation? Plus, the thought of it made me feel really warm inside, which just confirmed things. 

Michael’s realization?? I’m not sure tbh. @astralshipper is especially fond of teasing me with the “love at first sight” thing, but that doesn’t seem realistic to me skjfkdk

Marry for Love

AHAAAHA. HA. hghfhsdbbjs No, we aren’t ... skdnsfdkjskjfk dg we aren’t married-- uhhhhh hahah.  ha. I mean, we just started dating like a month or two ago, what kind of fool would be thinking of ,,,, being with,,, ,, , such a wonderful..  lovely, sweet, perfect guy for the rest of their life JNFDKJNKJS I MEAN.  .   GHJGHGKGJHGKFHFHHHHGHHGGHHH

... We, uh... we haven’t talked about it. ^^;

Post-Kiss Catatonia

answered here

Sickeningly Sweethearts

Uhh, I mean... we’re not huge on PDA, because we aren’t extroverted and we aren’t extremely confident. However, we do hold hands quite a bit, and then when one of us is hurt, or we’re finally seeing each other after a fight, then we kind of just forget we’re even in public and we’re fairly affectionate. If we’re just at the team headquarters, sometimes I’ll initiate more highkey stuff like kisses, and for the most part, the team is chill about it. Katie just kinda grins and giggles, Scout is like “god i wish that was me” skjndkjnknk Hope and Nikki just sorta fondly roll their eyes, and both Nikki and Jack probably tease us over it. Jay is the one who’s like BLUHGGHHH GROSS gnkjnkngk but he’s a dumbass so I just stick my tongue out at him and/or flip him off. 

You Must Be Cold

answered here

Zip Me Up

Uh, we don’t really help each other get dressed. We’re both a little too easily flustered for that, although sometimes I do offer to help with his shirts because his wings can make things difficult for him. We might help each other with neckties if we’re going to a dressier event, or maybe with buttons on occasion. If I’m in a jewellery mood, he might help me with a necklace or something. None of this is super common, though, and by the end of it we’re always sort of flushed even though we’re very respectful about it.

[ifanfictionella]

Vampire falls chapter 2- the outer world is nothing

Mabel's sleep was not pleasant whether she was tossing and turning or just laying on her side with a wave of insomnia mixed with panic that messed with her head. Would she tell anyone about this? no , course not , she didn't want to have to worry anyone with her little problems.

Just meant that sleep was something she ended up going without sometimes.

When night finally broke and the blue sky had been swallowed by the dark there was no hope of Mabel catching up on any of the lost sleep she was missing out on. She could already hear motion underneath her meaning wendy was probably already up, maybe she hadn't slept either.

She looked to her side where her other two friends were still fast asleep, she smiled as she kicked the covers off of her body to the end of the bed- she probably didnt have to worry about being all to quiet around her friends as she had seen on multiple occasions that those two could sleep through a thunderstorm.

Her attic was pretty much the same as it had been when she had first ventured to the small town- all of the posters were gone but really that was the least of Mabel's issues at this current moment. They had left dippers pin board where it was with all of his stuff taken down, they left the board blank which defeated the purpose of the pin board but really what could they actually put there

She had been breathing pretty mangled all night and now it was just starting to calm itself down, her just laying down in bed allowed her mind to rest which is when she was vulnerable to the thoughts of what Gideon could do to her if he ever got his hands on her.

She didn't like to think about it for too long

She pushed the door open before closing it behind her and leaning on the closed door with her eyes squeezed shut. She took in a few sharp breaths as she leaned on the door attempting to get the thoughts out of her head- she just needed to think about something else that wasn't him

She shakes her head pushing away from the door making her way towards the stairs, on her way down she makes sure to hit all of the steps- it was a small thing she found herself doing to keep herself grounded in reality.

The red head came into view quickly, she was trying to get the tablet to actually work, with very little luck.

Mabel sighed, sitting down to Wendy "let me guess, we're getting cut off?" wendy looked away from the screen and at mabel, the concern flashed in her eyes but it quickly changed to something else

"Cutting our necks more like" she replied sighing before putting the tablet down, the screen was just white with nothing else on it before going pitch black "no signal, nothing works" she sighed leaning backwards resting her head on the chair looking up at the ceiling "we've lost all our tactics, we are now sitting ducks" she sighed again

"He was in my head last night again"

She hadn't wanted to contribute to the growing list of problems but she couldn't keep things from Wendy, especially this type of thing.

"Was it bad?"

Mabel shook her head "no worse than it normally is but.." she paused thinking over what she was going to say "You were right,he is getting more restless- and i think he's getting stronger with his hold"

Wendy looks at her before putting her hands on mabels "Let's not try to think about that,as long as he doesn't see you, he can't hurt you,ok"

Mabel sighed, about to nod before hearing creaking behind her.She quickly turns herself around to see her two friends, look disheveled as if they had just been woken up and behind them was tambry clutching her phone in her hands, close to her chest "Wendy, my phones not working, did they?" Tambry asked stepping past the other two to sit in front of Wendy and Mabel, the two didn't follow instead staying standing.

"Yeah they cut us off" Wendy said, taking her hands off of mabels and standing up to meet her friend, Mabel had thought they were going to connect hands or something, it seemed to be something Wendy did for comfort but instead the two just kind of stood there. Wendy looked down before looking up at the other girls "but that doesn't mean we don't still have one plan, it'll be shaky but it's our only way of living to see to real world"

Mabel stood up scrunching up her fists, she angled her expression hardening her face- she had no time to be acting all scared of the things that go bump in the night, especially a vampire who should have been burnt at the stake years ago

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Over the other side of town, the humans were all locked underground where high class vampires could come and take their pick.This was the northwest mansion- the basement which no one seemed to know was being hidden by gravity falls richest family, aside from the resistance these were the only humans left in town.

All except one, pacifica elise northwest,

The blonde was sold to the vampires by her parents for a free ticket out of the town to go live in europe, the price they had to pay was having their memories of the town and their daughter erased.

The teen was sat on the single bed in the box room she had been given.The wall was decorated with a bookshelf that spanned a full wall with a spare dress hanging off of a hook.

She had thought of using the ribbion belt of the dress to hang herself from the hook, at least she would finally be free of what Gideon wanted off her, that felt like a fate worse than death.

She was frail and weak, had her past self met her currently she would surely be ashamed of the girl who stood infront of her. The colour had completely drained from her face and her neck was brusied as if she had been through a war, which she might as well have.

The door slaming open makes her jump, the sound echos around the room and the hallway connected to her room, her eyes travel to the door finding the one responsible for the sound. Her eyes find the pale faced vampire prince, his red eyes send chills throughout her whole body. "Pacifica looks like we have something to talk about" the vampire said shutting the door behind him

He looks pissed off, something hasn't gone right

This supposed higher up person had disagreed with him on something

Out of habbit pacifica stands up and holds her hands behind her back, she was of course preparing herself for the very worse, a new bruise on her neck wasn't the only thing she was worrying about, gideon was cruel when he bit someone, scraping his fangs across a girls neck drawing extra blood that scared over into lines that never seemed to go away.

"Go ahead, ask me . I dont have a choice do i?" she responded with a tad bit of bite back that she used to be known for before everything went to complete chaos. "You'll bite me and in my haze you'll ask again"

He never changed

He stared at her intently and pacifica returned said stare watching as his eyes traveled down her neck, he seemed to be fixated on the pionts at which he had left those marks, those harsh red lines that are a stark contrast to the white patchy nature of the rest of her neck.

She didnt speak up, knowing exactly what could happen to her if she did actually inturput him while talking, learning everything the hard way around here basically made it easy for her to make assumptions about how things worked. "No your right, even if you refused i'd still get the information out of you" He stepped forward and adjusted his posture, stretching out his back to be taller, glaring down at her with that smirk he had now become infamous for.

"What do you want, you could probably see im very busy being a mindless blood prisoner" she replied motioning behind her where her bed was littered with books as well as a notebook where she had been writing random poems.

When she was in a proper state of mind, not living off the high of a vampire bite, she found herself rather bored. She had read every book in this room- none of them were at all interesting to her, one of them was gideons bloodline.

She had to come up with hobbies to keep herself occupied, one that she had started was poetry. There was a high pile of notebooks in the room with a pen or two so that's where most of her time went.

"Yes i can clearly see that" he responded glancing over at her books before looking at her again, he didn't look to impressed at her little joke, Gideon didn't seem to have a sense of humour, like at all. "You remember your boyfriend, dipper pines?" he asked finally getting onto his subject

At the mere mention of dipper being a romantic option to the girl pacifica was red in the face, certainly a feeling she hadn't felt in a long while. She spluttered before looking around the room for a few seconds before she had to look at him again "He never was my boyfriend gideon" she answered in a cold manor with folded arms and a half laid eyes. "Though right now, i'd rather be with him over you"

"Well never mind the specfics. Any idea where he might have run to? im in need of his" gideon paused giving pacifica time to consider the options of what gideon might want dipper for, it woulnt be blood, gideon had a preference for girls blood and seemly had an abundance here right now, her and all the other girl prisoners were a perfect example. Course she had no idea what actually happened to the male prisoners but still. "talents"

"ha like i believe some bull shit like that" she shouted suddenly before covering her mouth quickly once she had processed what had just come out of her mouth, she started shaking when she looked up at him again "im sorry for speaking out of turn"

Before her eyes gideon basically stepped infront of her, grabbed hold of her arms with an iron grip that felt like he was digging his nails right into her skin. Her eyes went wide and the gasp that escaped her mouth was quick and quiet but definitely still audible. He glared down at her with a wide smirk now, fangs basically exposed to her and his breath stunk of wine and blood, a smell that brought tears to the girls eyes "now normally id just bite you but i need you for something first" he said

As he said that pacifica felt control over her body slip away, she couldnt believe she was falling for this again, she always seemed to be weak after this.

"I'll ask you again where would dipper pines go? i need him for something" he said, pacificas body shifted slightly before going still staring right back at him but with hazed over eyes, her lips moved without sound comming out for a few seconds before she did finally say something to answer his question.

"I dont know him so well but i'd assume if he's not in the shack hes ran away" she said she sounded so monotone and unlike herself, gideon smirked before letting the compulsion down, pacifica gasped taking in a huge and deep breath comming back to reality "what did you make me agree to this time?" her voice was breathy now with slight panic behind it, she was clearly in one of those fragile states

Gideon only smirked in response before leaning down to her neck, he felt pacifica tense up feeling his breath near her neck and that caused a smirk to stretch right across his face. His fangs sprouted out of his gums and he proceeded to run them across a bare part of the girls the neck, she cried out in pain at the feeling in quick successive gasps. The actions continued for about 2 minutes before he decided to just finally bite the girl earning a pleasured moan to escape pacificas mouth that replaced the pained one's that had been there only a minute ago

The plan was set.

The girls were going to sneak out of the shack into what remained of the town,storm the old convenience store and raid it for supplies. The older girls stayed back at the shack trying every which way they knew to reestablish any sort of connection.

The night sky touches everything around them and the trees that all around the town have them practically caged in the town, the vampires had chosen the perfect town to take over- no one even really talked about gravity falls anyway

After nearly half an hour of walking the store finally comes into view "alright it's basically an in, grab and out" mabel said turning around and looking at the two of them, they nod at her before we start walking towards the store.

She stays infront of the two and walk towards the locked down, knife in hand she raises it to the lock and twist it inside the key hole before the old metal lock basically spilt in two allowing us access to the shop.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The shop is creepy, the abandoned isles and the light that turns on and off , Mabel could almost hear the children begging their parents to get them candy, she walks past a stand of smile dip which brings a smile to her face as she remembers one time when she 12,sneaking in with wendy and her friends.

She shook her head and continued towards where the pharmacy was.

She was not surprised to see the place trashed, she'd expect the vampires to crush anything Needed to live and yet they left some of the things , they like to pretend their smart but really they're pretty dumb. Climbing over broken shelves is considerably difficult all of sudden now that she was stuck in the stupid dress

She picks up all of the things in sight putting them straight in her bag before checking around her for potential threats to her safety.

She seemed safe.

Then something dug into her shoulders making her gasp loudly and turn around, face to face with Amelie

"mabel marira pines, you really should learn to sneak around properly, even then i'd still catch you" 

[gotatext]

hello, it’s swamp witch nora again…. i couldn’t stay away.... hitting u with a tiny baby boy who is also terrible (sometimes).  musical softboi who loves karl marx and hates children dying in cobalt mines to make smart phones. as is tradition, here’s the pinterest board, have a peruse. fyi sorry for those of u who have read this intro a thousand times i literally.... can never b bothred to change it n i think thats really sexy of me x

CHARLIE PLUMMER / DEMI-BOY — don’t look now, but is that rory bergström  i see? the 23 year old music student is in their junior year and he is a rochester alum. i hear they can be whimsical, impassioned, self-indulgent and nitpicky, so maybe keep that in mind. i bet he / they will make a name for themselves living in griffin street. ( nora. 24. gmt. she/her. )

aesthetics.

bed hair from a permanent state of slumber, calloused fingertips from strumming bass into the early hours and djing into the blacklit night, self-help books thumbed once and thrown beneath your bed, battered copies of choose your own adventure books, spliffs passed half-arsed across rooftops while light pollution obscures low-hanging stars, marxist literature in stacks against your bedroom walls, a burner phone twice-shattered and a stash of replacement sim cards.

tw ocd, anxiety, drugs

half-swedish, half-british. the swedish is on his mother’s side. he’s bilingual but thinks in english. only really speaks swedish around his mother. only child, and kinda put a lot of pressure on himself to be the perfect kid when he was young, but his parents are honestly, quite decent? and just want him to have a nice life, they don’t care if he isn’t successful or rich or anything, they’re honestly rather solid. (wow imagine having nice parents, a first for all my characters, im literally this meme)

grew up in peckham, a suburb of london. growing up, his mum was a model / actress / waitress who later retrained as a speech therapist and his dad worked in her majesty’s service at buckingham palace. his dad wasn’t allowed to tell his family what his job entailed but rory suspects it’s probably very boring and just involves a lot of…. logistics n security.

was bullied a lot at school. [cole sprouse voice] he didn’t fit in and he didn’t want to fit in. unironically wore a trenchcoat to school every day of his life. spent most of his lunchtimes in the library because it was his safe space. as a result he knows…. loads of useless information because 30% of his school years were spent reading anthologies on space and the vikings etc. would be good on a game show. obsessively recorded every episode of university challenge as a child.

middle-class and lowkey quite wealthy but rarely talks about money, one of those well-off people who still wears really old shitty shoes and only spends money if they absolutely have to

virgin who can’t drive

into star wars, not into the big bang theory. feminist. can’t watch horror movies

favourite film is where the wild things are. also loves the florida project. thinks kids are the sweetest thing and can’t wait to be a dad to some

has been musical for as long as they can remember. first picked up guitar because he thought it would make this girl esther who he was in love with like him, but he just ended up falling in love with music instead.

formulated several different bands as a kid but ultimately had to give it up cos he was quite controlling and got fixated on making a certain sound so it wasn’t really fun for the others. got into electronic music because it was something he could do basically on his own and keep tweaking until he got it perfect

always drumming their fingers or strumming invisible guitar strings. tends to avoid parties bc he has quite has specific tastes when it comes to music and doesn’t like listening to r&b for eight hours while people throw up into plastic cups.

a techno connoisseur. has been making electronic music since he was about twelve.

after his parents divorce, when he was fourteen, rory & his mother moved to run-down suburban neighbourhood, pittsfield, massachussets.

big into photography. he mostly uses a canon 35mm camera, but occasionally uses disposable ones when he wants that more rustic feel.

moving to the states, their photography became more focused on suburban neighborhoods and are often quite dark and cinematic (think gregory crewsden). here are some shots of pittsfield i really like which rory has on his wall [1] [2] [3]

falls in love 12 times a day. never had a girlfriend or boyfriend. gets sweaty when someone cute looks at him. flirting?? what?? would prefer to idealise them from a distance

gender??? hm. rory don’t really know where they fit yet, sometimes he feels like a guy and sometimes they dont feel like anything at all!! slippin out of his physical form into the spirit realm! isn’t really bothered, cos they think it’s a social construct anyway. uses he/they pronouns interchangeably, but currently feels like ‘he’ is more fitting. won’t necessarily pull anyone up on it cos he knows having an identity that’s constantly…. in flux.. can be annoying for others … and doesn’t want to be a burden even tho it isn’t at all?? rory internalises guilt

everything is socially constructed. mirrors let you move through time. the whole thing’s a metaphor. he thinks he’s got free will but really he’s trapped in a maze. in a system. all he can do is consume. people think it’s a happy game. it’s not a happy game — it’s a fucking nightmare world, and the worst thing is, it’s real and we live in it!!!!

has ocd. tries to let it affect his life as little as possible, but obviously it’s incredibly hard to control a compulsive disorder. was teased for it at school when other kids started to notice. he was obsessed with the number five, would wash his hands five times, count stairs i groups of five, he could only use the corridors in one direction and always had to keep his hands busy. it manifests itself in hyper-fixations (trains when he was a child – specifically steam engines – then later he became obsessed with space and the patterns of constellations, and now he’s obsessed with synthesizers) and repetitive behaviours like counting stairs. doesn’t really affect his social life at all, he can jst get a bit locked-on n hyper-focused sometimes.

has insomnia. barely ever sleeps. finds it hard to switch off from work / writing / gaming / whatever’s preoccupying him in that moment. he’s always awake at 5am and quite often sleeps in through classes but still gets really good grades because he’s very good at his course. rarely attends classes. prefers to work independently. doesn’t really trust his tutors are intelligent enough to be teaching him, and is particularly suspicious of the lockwood tutors. a music snob tbh

occasionally deals weed n pills when strapped for cash, but only 2 ppl he knows, and on a very small scale grass-roots level!! (so its ok???) rollerskates around campus dealing cos they dnt have a car. we love to see it

aesthetics: bed hair from a permanent state of slumber, calloused fingertips from strumming bass into the early hours and drumming into blacklit night, self-help books thumbed once and thrown beneath your bed, watching vine compilations until your eyes turn square, battered copies of choose your own adventure books, spliffs passed half-arsed across rooftops while light pollution obscures low-hanging stars

likes: techno, the webpage cats on synthesizers in space, allen ginsberg, vintage gramophones,  floating points, lcd soundsystem, marijuana, soft dogs that let you pet them, late-night strolls talking about the universe, independent films, cigarettes, herbal tea, gallows humour, long showers, brown eyes, tchaikovsky, dr. seuss, constellations, photography, late night jazz, vintage game boys and girls who could rip his still-beating heart out of his chest and use it as an ashtray. dislikes:  weddings, funerals, formality, button-up shirts that people actually button-up, bananas, hot coffee, social media, people who watch and play sports, rap music – especially of the misogynistic variety, indie wankers in wire-framed glasses that play ed sheeran songs at open mic nights.

plot ! with ! me ! i’d say all the usual “exes fwb hookups spiel” but rory… has never hooked up with anyone… i feel like a deer in the headlights of love……. so give me

study buddies,

people who are also into techno and are music snobs about it,

people who love all kinds of music,

people who are in bands that maybe rory’s recorded and produced stuff for,

people he actually jams with (he plays bass and synth),

unrequited crushes!!

actually i think rory had sex w delilah in the last version of this rp so if u want a hook up plot its possible just unlikely. they’d hav 2 be the driving force i reckon cos rory doesn’t really act on impulses like desire or anythin.... jst bottles that shit up !!! but yea we could do a spicy hook up plot maybs, depending on the person

someone they met at a knitting club in freshman year and have remained friends with despite no longer going to it

people rory knows from open mic nights and gigs

library girlfriends / boyfriends that he stares at longingly while paging through leatherbound volumes

gamers !!! social recluses !!! hermits !!

people he deals weed to on his rollerskates (why r all my characters obsessed with rollerskates)

skaters. rory is really shit at skateboarding. like really shit. help the smol

[oddcoupler222]

for the prompt thingy! sanvers - sleep intimacy + grief fic (im interested if you'll go canon or au!)

if you met me you would know i’m going au ;)

Last year, Alex’s life went off the rails - she was in a car accident with her dad that resulted in his death, her sister subsequently moved halfway across the country to spend more time with her biological cousin, and her drinking may have gotten… more than a little out of hand. 

All of this culminated in 1. an acute inability to sleep (the therapist she’d been strong-armed into seeing at her mother’s request has told her that this unsettled, anxious feeling that causes her insomnia is perfectly normal - cue her eye roll), and 2. the department head of the biology department at National City University strongly advising her to take a sabbatical for at least a semester to “get herself together.” And as much as Alex wanted to argue against it - well, she can’t, really. Because even she wants to run away from her life right now.

She decides to go somewhere remote - where no one would know anything about her and where, in all reality, she’d truly be able to disappear: the little cottage for rent in Blue Springs, Nebraska that she finds available online seems to fit to a T.

… at least, she thinks, until she gets there and finds that she really is a California girl, because Nebraska in January is fucking freezing, and the cottage she rented seems to constantly need to be shoveled, and it hasn’t actually been lived in in what seems like decades, and -

She’s muttering all of this to herself under her breath as she shovels (badly) the walkway the first week she’s there - before laughter behind her surprises her, and she subsequently whirls around and slips and falls on the fucking ice, as she turns around to take in the woman behind her.

Who she scowls at even as her stomach flips at how unfairly attractive she is as she clearly is amused by Alex’s fall, even as she walks forward and offers her hand to help her get up, “Maggie Sawyer.”

“Alex,” she grunts back, reluctantly taking the offered hand because even though these boots she bought said “high traction” that’s clearly bullshit, “Danvers. Thanks for the warning.”

Maggie tilts her head, her hand steady and warm and holding for long enough that Alex’s hand feels - tingly, and she pulls it away quickly as this Maggie Sawyer shrugs and tucks her own hands into her pockets, “I just figured I’d come and check in on you out here.”

“Are you the welcoming committee for the town?” it’s small enough to have one, that’s for sure. The first day she stepped into town last week to get some supplies, everyone in town had known where she was staying and seemed to want to know everything about her.

“Nope. Just the sheriff. Heard you were from California - probably not used to the snow, so I figured I’d come over and see how you were doing,” she lifts her eyebrows at the uneven shoveling Alex had done.

“I’m - it’s fine. I’m doing fine,” she mutters, squeezing her hands around the end of her shovel and trying to steady herself.

“Clearly,” Sawyer nods slowly, still clearly amused and Alex hates the feeling like she’s being laughed at, “Okay, then. Well, I live about two miles down the road,” she gestures, “If you need anything.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” she repeats, because it’s been her manta for the last year, trying to hold herself together, “But thanks.”

Maggie climbs back into her cruiser after a few more moments of watching her, and Alex takes a deep breath before she gets back to it.

(they seem to see each other again a lot after that - well, as often as Alex sees anyone. Because apparently in small midwestern towns, everyone wants to know everything about you. And every time, Maggie gives her a look like she just has a read on her that Alex doesn’t get. Or a look that rankles her because she seems so entertained every time Alex makes a misstep

she does get some info out of some other people in town, too, though, from the gossip - like that Maggie Sawyer’s father used to be the sheriff before he died. Like that Maggie Sawyer grew up around her and then high-tailed it out of town as soon as she could for college, before coming back and becoming the sheriff.

and she’s also a Lesbian. they love to talk about that in town)

They don’t really get to know each other though, until one night a month into her stay in Blue Springs - where she is drinking less and focusing more on her research paper and maybe this place is helping her a bit, but she still can’t. fucking. sleep.

So she’s out, wrapped up in her warmest boat and boots and scarf, and trying to walk herself into exhaustion. It… isn’t working. Mostly she is just freezing her ass off and getting spooked by walking around by herself in the midwestern darkness -

And she jumps when a car pulls up next to her, calming minutely when a now somewhat familiar voice says, “Anyone ever told you that maybe you shouldn’t walk around by yourself in the dark on icy roads?”

Those knowing (but knowing what), amused dark eyes glint at her from the rolled down window, and she gestures to her passenger seat.

And when she gets in - because she is freezing - Maggie brings her to her house and makes some tea, before sitting with her on a comfy couch, “So. Why were you out there at 2am?”

She wraps her hands around the warm mug of tea, “Why were you, Sheriff Sawyer?”

“Finishing my patrol shift. Now, you,” Maggie nudges her with her knee.

Alex shifts around before sighing, “I can’t sleep.”

Maggie takes in her words with an understanding look, “Well, you’re still in a new place -”

“No, I just - I can’t - even before being here,” the words stop, because she can’t describe to her the way she pictures the sights and sounds from the accident with her dad or how much she misses her sister’s presence or - any of that.

“I get it,” Sawyer says, and her voice is pensive in a way that makes Alex feel like she understands.

Maggie tells her she’ll drive her home soon, after putting on a movie, but the next thing Alex knows, she is waking up on the couch - sprawled over Maggie, who is still sound asleep, and Alex is first a bit embarrassed because she is quite literally all over the sheriff and she’s… embarrassingly comfortable, but also she is shocked because it’s almost eleven in the morning and she hasn’t slept for eight hours in - she doesn’t know how long.

And Maggie seems more flushed than Alex has noticed her in the last month when she wakes up and pulls back.

Later that night, Alex is - well, in all honesty, she kind of wants to go over to Sawyer’s again to even just see if it was a fluke? But she can’t just show up and say, “Hey, I haven’t slept as well in over a year as I just did with you and somehow you stopped me from having nightmares, can we see if that works again?”

 - or so she thinks, until there’s a knock on her door at midnight, and, “Sheriff Sawyer?”

A dimpled smile flashes at her, “Hey. I think you can drop the official title after you spent the night over.”

“Right. Okay. Sawyer. What are you doing here?”

Maggie shuffles her feet, before clearing her throat, “Uh. Well. I was wondering if you were up, you know, just driving home from my shift,” she isn’t wearing her uniform, but Alex doesn’t say anything, “And wondered if you wanted to finish the movie.”

Alex isn’t a moron, and knows there’s something else going on, but… well, she can’t deny that everything she was thinking about just literally knocked on her door in a small, gorgeous package so.

And it turns out it wasn’t a fluke at all - because they wake up in a very similar way on Alex’s couch the next morning. Only with Maggie spooning her from behind this time, her arm keeping Alex from falling off the couch in a warm, strong hold.

It happens again like that a few more times, because they stop making excuses - Alex reveals why she can’t sleep, and why it’s better with Maggie there, and she flushes, “I know that sounds so weird, and it’s - I don’t know how to explain it.”

“It’s not weird,” Maggie interrupts, and then haltingly tells her that she… has had a similar issue sleeping, ever since she moved back to Blue Springs two years ago. After being a detective in Gotham, and she was shot by her own partner who turned out to be a dirty cop.

So, it starts. Where almost every night, “We’re sleeping together. But not sleeping together,” (Maggie says it in exasperation to her deputy). Because it wouldn’t be a good idea to start something with someone who is as damaged as she is and also only plans on being around for less than a year…

send me a combination of two prompts for a ship and i’ll create a plot