#i have really been grappling lately with whether i like having my hair a bit longer or not

[rainingincale]

I wish i was a boy so i could get my ears pierced and piss off so many stupid people but be soso beautiful 😔😔😔

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫: 𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 03 of 06 | masterpost

word count: 4,7k | ao3 link | fic's playlist

"C’mere," he whispered, and I nodded quickly, sitting beside him on the couch. I sighed, glancing down at my hands, fidgeting nervously with my fingers. With him right there, I was all over the place, unsure of what to do with myself. My heart fluttered when he reached out, placing his hand on mine, and I felt my cheeks flush as I looked up and noticed just how close he was. "You wanted to chat, right?"

✦ on this chapter: james hetfield x female!oc, dave mustaine x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, grief, pov change

✦ a/n: New chapter's here! First of all, I might not be able to update the next part on Monday. I'm halfway through writing it, but my days have been crazy busy, so it might take me a bit longer to wrap it up. But I swear, as soon as it's ready, I'll get it posted! This chapter is really special to me because we're diving into Dave's POV; I put a lot of heart into capturing his feelings just right, so I hope you guys like it. Feedback is welcome, thanks for reading! 🖤

✧ In terms of love, sunflowers symbolize pure and steadfast love, like Clytie who constantly gazed at Apollo. Therefore, giving someone a sunflower means telling them: “my love for you will be constant, and unchanged, like how the sunflower always faces the sun”. ✧

February 20, 1992

I sighed nervously, wringing my hands as I paced back and forth in my home's living room. After getting back in touch with Dave, we’d decided to meet up and have a chat about everything — the past, the present, and maybe the future. I didn't know what to make of his sudden reappearance in my life, unsure how it might shake up all the delicate balance I'd been trying to maintain lately. I’d left a message on James' voicemail the day before, filling him in on our reunion and our plans to catch up. Figured James should hear it straight from me, especially since he was the one who helped me hunt down Dave back in the day, spending months on end trying to track him down.

Now, though, it wasn't James occupying my thoughts, but Dave. I studied myself in the mirror; decked out in a cute dress, my cheeks flushed, my eyes gleaming with anticipation like they hadn't in ages. I'd even indulged in a touch of red lipstick, which now seemed a bit too much as I battled my nerves. Did I really care that much about whether he found me pretty?

I felt kind of silly, to be honest. But deep down, I knew I wanted to see him. I wanted to hear his voice again. Our call the day before had been brief, just a few hesitant words passing between us before I realized that talking on the phone wasn't cutting it. I needed to see him face-to-face, even if it was just to put a final chapter on our story once and for all.

I couldn't help but gasp with surprise when the doorbell chimed, my heart leaping into overdrive as a blush crept up my cheeks. Rushing to the door, I swung it open, my smile widening as I met Dave's gaze, a bouquet of sunflowers in his hands. He didn't even seem real, a vision straight out of a dream, his ginger hair catching the sunlight, his eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. It was everything I’d ever wanted, seeing him again like this, as if all my dreams were being handed to me on a silver platter.

"You’re here," I murmured dumbly, which earned a soft chuckle from him.

"Hey. Of course I am," he said, handing me the bouquet of sunflowers. I blushed as I accepted them, a delighted grin stubbornly forming on my lips. "These are for you."

"Oh, thanks, Dave," I replied, trying to contain the urge to throw myself into his arms right then and there. It seemed Dave was grappling with a similar hesitation; he reached out, lifting my chin, his thumb tracing my cheek. I sighed, feeling my heart kick up a notch. "So... you wanna come in?"

We stepped into my place; Dave plopped down on one of the couches in the living room while I scurried off to find a vase for the flowers. I rummaged through the kitchen cabinets and found one, filling it with water in a hurry. Carrying it back to the living room, I set it on a small table near the window. Turning back to Dave, I caught his calm smile, feeling the weight of all the unsaid words hanging in the air between us.

"C’mere," he whispered, and I nodded quickly, sitting beside him on the couch. I sighed, glancing down at my hands, fidgeting nervously with my fingers. With him right there, I was all over the place, unsure of what to do with myself. My heart fluttered when he reached out, placing his hand on mine, and I felt my cheeks flush as I looked up and noticed just how close he was. "You wanted to chat, right?"

"I... Yeah," I murmured, then sighed, trying to calm myself. "Dave... Last time we were together... The day you ended things with me..." I hesitated, seeing a storm of sadness and hurt stirring in his eyes, but he gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, urging me to continue. "That day... it was a mess. Most of it was my fault, but... I swear, Dave, I didn't cheat on you with James. I..." I struggled to keep going, feeling the weight of old wounds reopening, tears threatening to spill over and choking my voice. "Please," I finally choked out, my voice barely above a whisper. "Please, believe me. I can explain everything, I..."

I couldn’t keep talking; suddenly, the doorbell rang. I jumped, glancing nervously at Dave as the sound repeated.

"You should get that," Dave said, offering me a faint smile, though tension still lingered in the air. I nodded anxiously, making my way to the door.

I swung the door open, and there stood James.

"James?" I blinked, tension gripping my body. "What are you..."

"I got your voicemail. Where is he?" he growled, seizing me by the shoulders and shoving me aside before I could answer. Oh no, I thought, trailing after him into the house. He marched in with long, heavy strides, heading straight for the living room where he found Dave, who rose to his feet at the sight of him, a tempest brewing in his hazel eyes. "You!" James bellowed. "What do you think you're doing here?"

"James, chill!" I clutched his arm, meeting his eyes with a mix of exasperation and pleading. "We're just having a conversation. I told you we agreed to talk!"

"So now you have to report every move to him?" Dave shot back, his brow furrowing at me.

"Take a look in the mirror, man. Like you weren't a control freak when you two were together. You think I don't know you guys fought every time Nore wanted to see us?" James snapped, and Dave's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides.

"I ain't here to chat with you, Hetfield. It's best if you bounce," he growled, his tone carrying a hint of threat. I glanced between James and Dave, my pulse quickening. Oh no, not this again.

James chuckled, dripping with sarcasm.

"Ain't here to chat with you either, Mustaine. But you've got some serious nerve rolling up here after all the crap you pulled. You don't get to waltz back into her life like nothing happened. Like you didn't hurt her."

I gawked at James, my eyes widening in surprise. So, that's why he'd shown up? To defend me? All along, I figured if I crossed paths with Dave again, he'd be stoked for me, b ut clearly, that wasn't the case.

"Funny," Dave shot back, a wry smirk curling his lips. "Real funny, coming from you. Like you and Lars didn't pull the shit you did on me. Like you weren't trying to steal her from me from the start. You reckon I didn't catch the way you looked at her?"

"Well, in the end, I came out on top, didn't I?" James edged closer, his tone dripping with venomous irony. "I got the band, and I got the girl. What about you?"

"James, knock it off!" I interjected, and both of them swung their gazes towards me, as if just remembering I was there. "Did you forget Dave's here 'cause I invited him? I wanted to sort things out with him, alright? Lay off him!"

James arched an eyebrow, clearly taken aback and a bit peeved by my response. I held his gaze, my cheeks flushing under Dave's watchful eyes, but I refused to break eye contact with James, a silent exchange playing out between us. He eventually rolled his eyes and made his way to the door.

"Ugh," I grumbled, frustrated, trailing after him. "James, come on!"

"What the fuck, Nore!" he exclaimed, wheeling around, and I instinctively took a step back. "What the fuck were you thinking, inviting this guy over?"

"I already told you I needed to talk to him! James, he deserves to know the truth. It's not right for him to keep believing I did him dirty like that..."

"That was ages ago. Why's it such a big deal now?"

"Of course it's a big deal! And what you and the guys did, booting him out of the band, matters too. You should at least say you're sorry..."

"Here you go again, sticking up for him like he didn't fuck up," James growled, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "Don't you dare roll your eyes at me! All these years, I've done nothing but love and protect you. He fucking left you! He left you high and dry, then went around bad-mouthing you to everyone without even considering your feelings, without even giving you a chance to explain. Did you ever think that you could've set things straight ages ago if he'd stopped to listen? You shouldn't even give him the time of day, Nore."

"James, we were kids ," I said, my voice quieter now , trying to bring some calm to the heated moment, trying to make him understand. "I messed up plenty too. You cheated on your girlfriend to be with me. We're no saints here, okay?"

"Well, if you think this guy is here to just patch things up and be buddies afterwards, you're dead wrong, alright? Dead wrong, and you know it. Bet he's still sore about losing you, because if he's not over getting booted from the band, would he really be over that?"

"And why does that even matter? This isn't about him moving on from me or not, it's about us making things right..."

"Yeah, well, I don’t give a shit about making things right with him."

"And that's the fucking problem!" I exclaimed, frustrated. "There was a time when you'd get why this means so much to me. There was a time when you'd want me to do what makes me happy! So either you were bullshitting me or you've changed so much that you just don't give a damn anymore. Honestly, I don't know which is worse."

James stared at me for a moment, hurt and shock in his gaze, the same old hurt that always resurfaced between us — the hurt of not being able to understand each other anymore. He sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingertips as he closed his eyes.

"What happened between us and him is in the past," he growled. "I don't need to keep going over that, and I sure as hell don't owe him an apology. If you feel like you do... Don't come crying to me when he screws you over again."

"James..." I started, reaching out to grab his hand, but it was too late. He shook his head, pulling away, and stormed off, hopping into his car and slamming the door shut before speeding off. I watched him leave, my heart pounding as tears welled up in my eyes, wondering if I'd ever find a way to make things right with both Dave and James without causing even more hurt along the way.

 ☆

I've never been one to let things slide easily.

Holding onto grudges was kind of my thing. In a world that had kicked me and spat on my face since day one, anger had been my go-to move, sword and shield rolled into one, keeping me safe from the emptiness that always lurked.

Sometimes I'd been pretty good at channeling that anger into something productive, but other times? Well, let's just say it was a rocky ride. It was like walking a tightrope, flirting with self-destruction, and usually, things didn't end well — not for me, and definitely not for the people around me.

Grudges kept me on my toes. They kept me sharp. Couldn't forget, couldn't let myself get fooled again by someone who'd already done me wrong. And I was cool with that, like a ticking time bomb kind of cool, until I thought I found someone who got me. Someone who could put out the flames, show me the softer side of life, the morning sun's warmth instead of the heat of a fire.

She had always been my Achilles' heel.

We were lost children, lost in the haze of our youth, drowning our sorrows in booze, trying to escape everything that hurt us. I started falling for her then, in a simple way, because she was like me, yet she was good. Kind in a way that baffled me, that I couldn't wrap my head around. How could she see so much good in me when I couldn't even see it myself? How could she trust me so completely, with a trust that scared the hell out of me because I wasn't used to that kind of tenderness, that kind of affection?

Before I knew it, my love had turned into devotion. A devotion so deep it mingled with the marrow of my bones, making me stronger and weaker in equal measure. ‘Cause when I lost everything but her, the fear that she might be next only drove us apart.

Eleanore. Eleanore. Nore.

It wasn't a walk in the park to forget her after it all went south. For the longest time, I wanted to forget her, to despise her just like I did with Lars and James for booting me out of Metallica. After some time, it became a piece of cake to act like I didn't give a shit, that I was better off without her, that I was over her and ready to move on, diving into other kisses, other lovers. Drowning myself in whatever substance I could find, anything to drown out the hollow feeling inside.

But without her shining light, I was adrift.

As weeks turned into months and months into years, my fury toward her slowly simmered down enough for me to see that what I felt wasn't anger, but love. A love wounded and raw, twisting my heart in an endless pit. I longed for her, but it was too late; it wasn't rocket science to figure out that she and James were living the dream of a perfect relationship while folks seemed to get a kick out of keeping me posted on every move Metallica made without me. And I tried to sell myself the story that it was for the best; that if she’d left me, it was better for her to be with someone who truly lit up her world. That I wasn't, and had never been, good enough, worthy enough of her love.

And to add insult to injury, it's not like I didn't have my own demons to wrestle with. As the years rolled on, my reliance on any and all substances that could numb me from reality grew worse by the day, until it reached a breaking point. My first go-round in rehab fell short; I found myself making repeat visits to those gloomy facilities more times than I could tally up. And all along, I was just searching for something, anything, to reassure me that I was headed in the right direction. Something that could pull me back from the brink, something that could save me.

And then I found her.

As fleeting as our reunion had been, it was enough to shatter any facade of normalcy I had managed to cobble together. Because deep down, I knew that after laying eyes on her again, I couldn't live with myself if I let the opportunity to reconnect slip through my fingers. It was like her presence had wiped away all the pent-up anger I harbored inside. But beneath that anger lurked pain and fear. After all, hadn't she chosen James over me in the end? How could her reappearance not feel like a mirage, especially when she had once shown me the purest, most sincere form of love, only to snatch it away and make me believe I didn't deserve any of it?

That I didn't deserve her. And that she was worthy of something better.

When she asked to meet up to discuss the past, I couldn't bring myself to refuse. How could I deny her anything? And there I was, the Dave Mustaine, known for my sarcasm, anger, and aggression, completely bending to the whims of a woman. But not just any woman.

Her.

I found myself buying her flowers and eagerly anticipating our meeting like some lovesick teenager. Not because I was after a quick fuck or a girl dazzled by my wealth and fame, but simply because it was her. And God knows how when she was around, it was like everything else faded into the background. I dared to hope that her sudden reappearance in my life, after so much pain, emptiness, and longing, was a sign that good things were on the horizon.

But life's never that simple, is it?

Then James showed up, with his anger, arrogance, and disdain. My heart sank as I watched the intimate exchange between them, even in the midst of a fight. The silent communication in their glances held the weight of years of companionship, two souls deeply entwined on the same journey. And I couldn't help but envy James because he knew a side of her that I no longer did. He had stolen it from me, something I’d lost when I was deceived and betrayed by those I once considered my family.

But as I listened to their argument, and her desperate pleas for him to understand that all she wanted was to make things right and explain herself, I couldn't help but remember one of the things that had made me fall head over heels in love with her in the first place: her unwavering loyalty, always ready to defend those she cared about, the same loyalty that had her standing by my side without a second thought when my world came crashing down. Loyalty. I swear I never cheated on you with James. That's what she’d said, right? And I realized I believed her, but that didn't make things any easier. Because if that was true, then had I truly shut her out of my life, without even giving her a chance to explain herself, all over some stupid misunderstanding?

It wasn't surprising that James was furious with her for still holding onto any hope of patching things up with me. Fuck . I mean, it wasn't like this was anything new, but had I really been that big of an idiot?

I didn't even deserve her to look at me. I should just leave, spare her from my anger, my bitterness, and my mistakes. But how could I when she was right there, her blue eyes shimmering with tears she tried to choke back, so close and so real?

"I'm sorry, Dave," she whispered, her voice shaky. "I didn't know James was gonna barge in here and stir up such a mess, I..." She sighed, seeming lost for words, wrapping her arms around herself, looking so confused and alone that I couldn't resist. Striding over to her, I pulled her into a hug, holding her tight against my chest, hoping against hope that this would be enough for her to grasp everything I was feeling but couldn't put into words. She smelled like cinnamon and cardamom and this unique sweetness that was just her, and it made me ravenous. I buried my face in her hair, one hand gripping the back of her head while the other pulled her closer, and she hugged me back, like she was afraid I'd vanish if she let go, tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"You were telling the truth, huh?" I murmured, my heart aching. "You and James... You weren't really together that day?"

"No," she sobbed, her voice heavy with sorrow, and I held her even tighter. "No, we weren't..."

"It's alright. It’s okay, sweetheart," I whispered, the pet name slipping out without me even realizing it, the weight of my mistakes threatening to crush me with regret. I wanted to cry too, but I couldn’t, not now. I had to stay strong for her. "I'm here. Let it out, I'm here."

I held her until her sobs subsided, her breathing slowing down. She pulled back a bit, looking up at me, her face tantalizingly close to mine, and I had to use all my strength not to kiss her right there .

"You don't wanna chase after James?" I questioned, trying to hide the distress in my voice. She shook her head, looking like she might burst into tears again any second.

"No, not right now. It'd just make everything worse. We'd end up arguing more,” she whispered, her cheeks damp from her tears. “He's angry, Dave. And he's been holding onto that anger for ages, and I don't know how to help him..."

"Hey, it's alright. You'll figure it out, I'm sure."

"We weren't together. I mean, that day," she started, breaking away from my embrace and heading to the couch, where she took a seat. I took a seat too, unable to stand even a moment apart from her. "I knew James had feelings for me. I knew because he'd kissed me once, out of the blue, and I knew I couldn't keep ignoring the way he felt."

She paused, and I nodded, pushing down the surge of jealousy and anger bubbling up inside me.

"I… I liked him too. But I loved you. I was so, so in love with you. And I’d chosen you . I would always, always, always have chosen you. That day, running into him was just a total coincidence. I didn’t even know he was gonna be there. I mean, I get it now, I should've told you everything back then. But honestly, I was scared stiff. Didn't wanna risk pushing you even further away. It was all my fault..."

"No," I cut in, squeezing her hand, small, soft, and warm, in mine. "No. I should've let you explain. You were my girlfriend, after all. I owed you that much, Nore."

"I tried to track you down afterward, you know, to explain myself," she confessed, her voice choked, those pleading blue eyes of hers practically begging for understanding. "But it never quite panned out. And then..."

"And then?" I prodded gently. She glanced away, nibbling on her lower lip, like she was wrestling with the right words. I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, urging her on.

"And then... There was that song."

I let out a rough breath. Mustaine, you fucking idiot. She didn't have to spell it out. I knew exactly which song she meant, a tune born from my anger and bitterness, a misguided attempt at bravado fueled by some foolish hope that she'd hear it and come chasing after me, even if it was just for a fight. But in the end, it only drove Nore farther from me. If there was a prize for boneheaded moves, I'd have been on that podium in a heartbeat.

"And you never bothered to find me," she murmured, her voice laced with hurt, her gaze dropping to her hands, her lower lip trembling just enough to betray her pain. It was like watching a wounded bird, helpless and vulnerable after falling off its nest.

God, how I longed for her to forgive me, even for the sins I had not sinned.

"I tried," I admitted, and she glanced up at me quick, cheeks flushing the sweetest shade of pink, those blue eyes of hers sparkling like they could stop my heart. Why was she happy to hear that? Why was she messing with my head like this? Didn't she love James now? Tears threatened to well up again, the lump in my throat tightening. I couldn't stand this. "I did try. But you were gone. Off touring in Europe with him. And then a year later or so, Cliff pops up at one of my gigs. I asked about you, wanted to see you. But he shut me down," I revealed bitterly. "Told me to get over it. Said you and James were together. That you were in love. So I threw in the towel."

She looked utterly surprised, like it was news to her. After all these years, I'd figured she didn't give a damn. So why the sudden interest? Why act like she didn't know? It felt like she was ripping my heart out all over again. Because, painful as it was to admit, I still loved her. I had never, ever, ever stopped loving her. And now she was back in my life, with those piercing blue eyes and that gentle heart, thinking she could save me, thinking she could fix things. Innocent. Pure. Wasting her heart on the wreck that I was.

And I couldn't even muster the guts to lay it bare — that I was a screw-up. That I was useless, that she oughta go off and be happy with James 'cause she'd never fix what was broken in me. I didn't deserve that. But I wanted it — I wanted to be near her. I was too damn selfish. I wanted her goodness. Her innocence. I needed it to belong to me, and only me, and no one else.

I didn't deserve her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, gripping my hands tight. "I just... I thought you didn't want me around anymore. I didn't know, Dave," she sniffled. Was she crying? She shouldn't be. She hadn't done anything, anything wrong. Maybe I should've pushed harder. Maybe I should've listened. Maybe I should've gone after her, fought for her. But now, it felt too late.

"I should go," I muttered, even though it tore me up inside. "I don't want... You and James, Nore, you two are together..."

"But we're not, " she blurted out. I went still, locked into her blue gaze. Please, don't toy with me like this. "Things with James, Dave... They're complicated. But we're not together. Not like that. We..." Her voice hitched, and all I wanted was to hold her, to never let her go, to never let her cry again. "We're both broken. Cliff's death... It tore us apart."

And there it was. That vulnerability. I'd noticed it, how she seemed fragile now compared to the lively girl I once knew. This was new, and it broke my heart that she’d changed to feel ruined. It crushed me that the happy, determined, kind girl I once knew had become a wounded woman. A woman still grieving, even years after losing the one who'd shaped her world.

And it stung even more that I was such a worthless piece of shit that I felt selfishly relieved to hear she and James were no longer together.

"Please, don't string me along like this," I managed to whisper. She chuckled, her voice trembling, then met my gaze.

"Dave. Would I lie to you about something like this?" she asked, almost sweetly. Oh, this devil of a woman. If only she knew how she had me in the palm of her hand right then. "Please... I don't want you to leave."

"What should I do?" I practically pleaded. Just tell me what to do because I can't take this anymore. I want to hold you. I want to kiss you. I want to—

"Stay with me," she breathed, her fingers weaving through mine. My heart raced, disbelief flooding me. I didn't deserve it, this happiness. I didn't deserve her.

Yet there she was.

Yet she wanted me.

My hand shook as I reached out to touch her face gently. I traced the curve of her lower lip with my thumb, watching as she blushed, her lips parting ever so slightly, anticipation gleaming in her eyes. I pulled her close, my mind racing as much as my heart, and kissed her, our lips moving together, my tongue exploring her mouth eagerly, tasting her like it would be the last time. Because maybe it would. Maybe this was all just a dream, and I would wake up in my cold bed, miserable and stupid and alone without her. 

Because this was too good to be true. That a woman this small could hold this much power over me, over my heart, felt almost like a joke. But there she was. She was beautiful. She was kind. 

And she wanted me.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

tag list: @killazilla777 @whatsupvic @70srogah @genswine9 @twice360noscope @ilovepapahet

[godsfavdarling]

chapter 14

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!oc

summary: Spencer and Molly have a conversations about their long-term aspirations.

list of chapters, also available on wattpad and Ao3, my masterlist

warnings: smut: soft femdom? oral (female receiving), handjob

words: 1,8k

a/n: i realise that the are fucking in like every chapter. i know okay? what about it? enjoy <3 (smut: soft femdom? oral - female receiving, handjob)

Coming back from the case in Georgia, the team's discussions about relationships and marriages occupied Spencer's thoughts. 

As he reflected on the matter, he became increasingly aware of the fact that he and Molly hadn't had in-depth conversations about their long-term aspirations, especially regarding marriage.

During the flight, Spencer observed his teammates sharing their views on relationships, commitment, and marriage. The discussions prompted him to consider his own feelings on these subjects. 

He always thought that one day he'd get married and have kids. That was what he saw in his future. And he would do all of that with Molly if she wanted to. 

However, he grappled with the realization that he had never asked her about her feelings on the matter.

Unsure of how to approach the conversation without causing any discomfort, he contemplated the best way to understand her perspective and desires.

After much contemplation he decided that a straightforward conversation was the best approach. While he acknowledged that they hadn't been together for an extended period, he believed that discussing Molly's desires didn't necessarily commit them to anything at this stage. 

He saw it as an opportunity to understand her perspective, ensuring they were on the same page regarding their relationship's future and whether she envisioned a potential future together.

A part of Spencer was apprehensive about the possibility that Molly might express hesitations or uncertainties about marrying him specifically. He recognized that this didn't necessarily equate to her never wanting to marry anyone. 

However, if she were open to marrying someone else in the future, it might imply that her feelings toward him weren't aligned with his feelings for her. The prospect of such a conversation carried a mix of hope and fear for him.

He pondered Molly's thoughts on marriage. He knew she was more inclined towards the dreamy notions of romance. He also found comfort in the fact that she enjoyed spending time with children. 

Molly had a natural affinity with kids, and they, in turn, adored her. The question that lingered in Spencer's mind was whether Molly envisioned having children of her own in the future.

As Spencer entered Molly's apartment, he noticed her curled up in her bed. Given the late hour, it was no surprise that she was ready to settle down for the night. 

After checking on her, Spencer realized that Molly was not asleep, and she greeted him with a warm "Hi Spence!"

He asked about her day, and she replied, "Good. Yours?" He hesitated, a hint of contemplation in his eyes, and Molly sensed there was something on his mind. 

"Come on, Spencer, spill it out," she encouraged, sensing he had something important to share. He sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixed on Molly.

He shared details about the case involving a wedding vendor and how the team had discussions about marriages. 

He took a moment and then nervously broached the topic, "Don't be scared, Molly. I just wanted to ask.... do you wanna get married one day? I'm not saying with me... specifically, but, you know... as an idea... would you like to get married one day? Is it something... you wanted... growing up?"

Molly sat up a bit, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She took a deep breath before she started to share her thoughts. 

"You know, Spencer, marriage... it's never really been something I actively wanted. Would it be nice? To find someone you want to spend your whole life with and share everything with? Of course. 

But when I was younger, I couldn't even picture myself in any relationship, let alone thinking about marriage. There was this guy I dated in college and I was kind of really in love with him. And he once told me he'd never marry anyone. That marriage is stupid. That shattered me, and we eventually broke up."

She paused, a hint of vulnerability in her eyes. "Since then, I've quietly yearned for something special, but I never really got my hopes up. I have these... high standards, you know? 

But with you, Spencer, it's different. You... meet them, and it's scary how you make me feel and think and you make me question the things I thought I knew about myself." Molly smiled softly, her eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions.

Spencer, his signature smirk playing on his lips, responded, "Oh really? And what standards do I happen to meet, according to your list?"

Molly chuckled, "Well, you're brilliant, kind, and have an amazing heart. Plus, your quirky sense of humor and those adorable rambling moments – they're all part of the package that... makes you, well... you." 

She looked at him with a warm smile. "And, let's not forget, you're incredibly patient and understanding and gentle. You also happen to be amazing in bed and you have a great dick. 

I guess I could say you've exceeded my standards, Spencer Reid... That's a basic summary I'd say." Their laughter filled the room.

"And to answer your question, yes, I do see myself marrying someone one day. I envision a future with the right person. 

And yes, with that special someone, I would love to have kids, especially with a partner who adores children as much as I do. Someone who knows the art of magic tricks... 

I see a life with someone who can take care of me and our family with unwavering support, kindness, and warmth. Someone who not only loves but is dedicated to being the best dad in the world!" She says with a warm smile, her eyes locked with Spencer's as a subtle blush graced his cheeks.

Molly gazed at Spencer, a curious smile playing on her lips. "What about you, Spence?"

After a brief pause, Spencer finally responded, "I always pictured my future with having a family. I just couldn't picture it any other way. I always wanted a... simple life."

She looked at him with affection and leaned in for a kiss. As their lips met, she cupped his cheeks with her palms and whispered, "That sounds like a good plan."

"Spencer, can I ask you a question now?" She smiled with mischief.

"Of course."

"Can you eat me out?" She stared at him blatantly.

"Always." He said as looked her dead serious in the eyes.

She leaned in and placed her hands on his cheeks as she kissed him. Sucking on his bottom lip she let go by dragging it and giving into it lightly.

"Get on your knees" she ordered him and as he slipped off the mattress, she repositioned herself to sit at the edge of the bed with her legs spread. 

He looked up at her in awe which made her even more hungry to feel his lips on her. With quick motion she took off her t-shirt and now with bare chest leaned on her elbows as she watched him stare at her.

Admiration and lust in his eyes. She waited a few moments enjoying his obedience and longing to pleasure her. She put her foot on his shoulder showing him more of what he craved and asked him "Can you take those off?"

He quickly put his fingers around the hem of her underwear and pulled them off, by putting her legs up. Once she was completely naked in front of him and he was still fully clothed on his knees facing her pussy, she put her leg over his shoulder.

He was now staring at her already wet folds and breathing more deeply. She spread her legs more as she said "Get to work pretty boy" and giggled.

He lowered his face and with a flat tongue licked her from her entrance up to her pubic hair. Once he was at her clit he wasted no time sucking on it. Molly moaned quietly as she closed her eyes and threw her head back.

She decided to lay her back down completely on the bed and relax. Spencer was breathing her in and sucking more viciously. 

Suddenly his fingers found a way to her folds and Molly picked herself up and now sitting up grabbed him by his hair and pulled gently making him look up at her.

"No fingers. Just your mouth. Okay?"

"Okay." He said looking straight into her eyes with his lips and chin covered in her honey.

She let go of his hair but kept her palms on either side of his face as he got back to kissing her clit. 

He licked and flicked his tongue on her while moaning which sent shivers down her spine. She started to feel the knot forming in her stomach.

She arched her back and pushed his face even closer to her. She started rolling her hips and rubbing herself against his mouth. She was getting close.

"Oh fuck. You're doing so good Spence."

As they both moved, Spencer's inhales and exhales tingled her pussy. She needed a few more harsh flicks against her clit to make her finish. And as she did she cried out and Spencer drank up her wetness not stopping the flicks of his tongue as Molly went down off her high.

She rode out her orgasm as she leaned to place her lips on Spencer's head and kissed it gently.

He pulled his face away a few inches to take a few breaths and she kept her upper body leaned against his head.

"You did so well Spence. I loved it." She whispered and heard him groan. 

Now her mind went straight to his probably very hard dick trapped under his trousers.

"It's okay Spence. Stay like this." She encouraged him and led his arms to wrap around her waist.

With him still on his knees before her and his face nuzzled against her left hip and his hands wrapped around her, she slipped her right hand down to undo his belt, unbutton and unzip his pants enough to put her hand under his clothes.

She firmly grabbed his dick which made Spencer cry out and started to stroke his length. He was panting against her side, she felt his hot breath on her soft skin. 

Her left hand stayed on his head and played with his short curls around his neck.

He didn't need much. She kept stroking with set rhythm and pressure, sometimes adding more strength to her grip and after a few seconds she felt his dick and his whole body twitch under her touch as he spilled into her hand and his underwear.

Molly kept stroking as he was getting off his high. She leaned to press a kiss into his cheek as he still kneeled before her. He was panting and as he shot his eyes closed he tried to even out his breath. Molly waited, still playing with his hair. After a while she asked "Everything okay?"

"More than okay. I love you" he blurted out against her skin.

"I love you Spence!" she whispered into his ear and placed a million kisses on his face. 

[sukirichi]

— the other side

request:  BRUH YOUR SWIMSUIT SHOPPING WITH JJK IS GOD LEVEL 😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫 I think you wrote Gojo perfectly 🥺 Could I pretty please request FaceTime sex with Gojo 🤩 Like maybe Gojo’s away on a mission and he really misses reader and he’s needy so he calls her and has her put the phone down in front of her and tells her what to do 😳

warnings: nsfw, mutual masturbation, facetime sex, dirty talk (+unedited fic)

note: i actually wasn’t sure if i could write this well since i’m not the best at dialogue, but i tried my best and i hope you like it anon! thank you for the request! dinner has been served!

masterlist ! 

Ruined. He’s absolutely ruined you.

You pull your fingers out of your clenching hole, your cheeks sweaty as you pant against your pillow. Hole clenching around nothing at the sudden emptiness, your chest heaves up and down with the gnawing dissatisfaction that you could no longer cum yourself; could no longer feel pleased unless it’s Gojo doing it for you.

Before you know it, a single tear flows down until it collects besides your lips. Hands rubbing against your tired eyes, you sigh at the clock blaring 2:19 AM mockingly at you.

It’s two in the fucking morning – and you haven’t cum ever since Gojo left for work.

Your fingers just wasn’t enough; could never be enough compared to his magical tongue and long dick that absolutely drives you into with so much need, large hands grappling against your soft mounds for leverage while he pounds himself into you.

It’s not the same without him. It’s been four long days ever since Gojo left for work; four torturous days that you’ve done everything you could to get off, only to keep failing after hours of humping your pillow or doing all the work with the cute pink dildo you got just for days he wouldn’t be around. It never ends well. Your wrist would only cramp or your thighs would ache afterwards, but you never came.

Perhaps that’s one of the consequences of being greedy and wanting to keep Gojo Satoru all to yourself. In return, he’s also stolen you of the privilege of fucking yourself.

Arm sprawled over your face, your breathing begins to regulate. Your legs are still wide open, arousal leaking from your disappointed cunt. You were ready, so ready for Gojo to come home and just fuck you silly.

You hate yourself for being this way, hate that your lips are trembling because you miss him so much and you’re actually crying all because you feel so empty without him buried within you.

It’s stupid, so fucking stupid, but you can’t help it.

You turn around to your side and hug his pillow closer to your body, breathing in his scent. It helps to calm you down a bit and even reassures you you’re not really alone; he’d come back in a few days and you’ll have him all to yourself again.

It’s been a long day, and the days just keep stretching over with the fact you’ve pretty much masturbated everywhere but still never got to come. A wave of exhaustion washes over you, your eyelids growing heavy at the same time you wrap one leg around Gojo’s pillow. His musky scent still remains, almost mocking that he’s never really away from you, but the dull aching deep within your pussy says otherwise.

You’re so helpless without him.

Just as you’re about to gaze off into to dreamland, your phone blares from your bedside table. You don’t waste another second before scrambling off the bed to get it, nearly falling off if you hadn’t grasped on to the sheets hard enough.

Gojo’s contact name of baby with a heart emoji flashes on the screen. Out of reflex, your entire body responds. Palms sweaty, lips puckered, pussy fluttering and nipples peaking – it’s embarrassing how your body reacts to him strongly. If he was here and he saw the way you open yourself up to him, Gojo would laugh while knuckle deep in you, teasing that you’re so eager for him and he hasn’t even done anything yet.

You quickly swipe right to answer, the grin on your face large and beaming when his handsome face greets you. “Satoru,” you smile, leaning back on the pillows to make yourself comfortable. “I missed you.”

There’s no lie about that. He’s still so handsome with one arm propped underneath him, hair down in messy strands and his eyes free from the blindfold, allowing you to witness the magic that pooled within that beauty. Satoru is now wearing a plain white shirt in exchange of his usual dark uniform, his bicep flexing under his weight, but you’re more focused on how his eyes crinkle once he finally saw your pretty face.

You could tell he misses you just the same.

“Hey, baby,” he coos through the call, and his low, husky voice immediately sends chill down your spine. The cold air bites at your exposed cunt and you shudder; you already know you’re wet again. It’s still ‘yesterday’ where he’s at, meaning that he’d have to leave for work after three hours or so as the sun begins to rise, while you’d still be slumbering at peace.

Or at least, sleep as comfortably as you could with countless failed orgasms.

“I missed you too,” Satoru sighs. His eyes droop for a moment, and he sees the way you open your lips, ready to tell him to get some more rest instead of calling you. Satoru only presses a finger to his lips, eyes glinting playfully at your awaiting gaze. “I’m fine, baby, don’t worry about me. I just needed to hear your voice.”

Your heart skips a beat at that. You’ve always known that Satoru is flirty, and even though he isn’t exactly being too flirty right now, the mere thought of him wanting to hear your voice before he sleeps does wondrous leaps to your wavering heart.

“Me too,” you confess in a small voice, tugging up the sheets under the chin as you grow more and more shy with each passing second. “It hasn’t been the same without you, Toru. I can’t…I can’t be myself when you’re not here.”

Satoru, despite being an absolute dumb fuck all the time, isn’t stupid when it comes to that tone of your voice. He nods once and presses the phone closer to his face, voice low and serious. “What’s wrong, baby? Do you want to talk to me about it?”

Yes and no. You seriously debate whether it’s best to tell him that you can’t cum without him, simply because he’s always so much better and feels perfect compared to your nimble fingers that barely even stretch you. On the other side, you don’t want to keep him up too late, plus phone sex… well, you haven’t really done it before. Just imagining showing yourself bare to Satoru through the camera already makes your body feel warmer than it already it is. He’s seen you naked hundred of times before, but the idea that he could record it…

You swallow audibly and look away from him. Your cunt is already gushing as you imagine Satoru recording the way you lose yourself as he buries his cock into your hilt, but it’s a different thing if you could both masturbate to the thought of each other.

“Babe,” Satoru cuts off your train of thoughts, “You feel frustrated too, don’t you? I’ve never hated my fist as much as I do now.”

Your head snaps to his direction so fast Satoru laughs at your crazed reaction, and the sound only increases when you start babbling to him. “Y-you,” you shake your head in disbelief, “You too? You can’t cum too? I mean, I’ve done everything I could, I even got a dildo but it’s not enough, Toru, it’s never enough, I need you so bad.”

You don’t care that you’re whining at this point. Satoru doesn’t give a damn either because he’s already palming his erection through his sweatpants from the other side of the world, jaw clenching as he imagines you doing lewd things without him.

“Aw, my poor baby,” he teases you, making you pout and hide under the sheets with only your eyes peeking through. “It’s okay, I’ve got you now,” his voice drops an octave lower, eyes darkening as lust consumes both your body. “Just be a good girl and follow my instructions, okay? I’ll make you feel good. We’ll make each other feel good. It’ll feel like I never left, okay?”

“O-okay,” you nod shakily, still unsure of what to do. “Is there-?”

“Yeah,” Satoru grunts as he whips his cock free from his confines, hips jutting forward now that his hand is wrapped around it. He sighs at the relief of finally getting his chance to cum. He understands your situation; his cock won’t even come close to the warmth of your tight pussy clenching on him. “Show me yourself, pretty girl. Show me those pretty pink lips of yours,” Satoru places his phone somewhere on the table near his bed, pushing his sweatpants down until his cock slaps against his underbelly, the tip red and leaking.

You gasp at how lewd he looks. The sheets are absolutely crumpled beneath him, and you clench your thighs at the sight of Satoru wrapping his hands around his large, angry cock with his eyes staring straight directly at the camera.

“Come on, baby, don’t be shy,” he rasps, “I want to see you, want to hear you. You’ll let me hear those beautiful moans, won’t you?”

When his hups jut forward to meet the tight grip of his hands, something inside you snaps. Breath shaky and legs trembling, you throw your sheets off to the side and get your phone stand before setting it up at your bedside table, making sure to tilt the camera downwards before you lean back onto the bed. You’re already naked underneath Satoru’s large shirt, and it doesn’t take much as you spread your legs eagerly for him, using two lips to spread your lips open even without his command.

Satoru groans at your arousal leaking down the sheets and making a mess. He pumps himself harder, smirking at how your heavy breathing is all he could hear. “So fucking pretty,” he praises, “Now put two fingers in your pussy for me, baby girl. Stretch yourself open so I can see how much you miss my cock.”

Obedient as ever, you do as you’re told, letting out a shuddered moan when your two fingers go past your walls without resistance. You’re wet, so fucking wet for him, but you want him. “Satoru,” you whine, pushing your fingers deeper and deeper and pulling them out for friction. Your walls clench around your digits and you start imagining that it’s his long fingers buried into you this time; getting off to his image and relishing in how Satoru is moaning your name. “Miss you baby,” you cry out, hands trailing up to squeeze your nipples. “I want you so bad.”

“Me too, baby, me too,” the sound of Satoru’s slick running up and down his shaft, along with his low groans, are like music to your ears. Your moan grows louder when you open your eyes and see that his muscles are flexing as he fucks his hand eagerly, his gaze focused on the way you’re shuddering around your own digits. “Another one. Add another one.”

Shakily, you add another one, your head falling back at the welcomed intrusion. It’s still not enough, but it’ll do for now.

You just imagine that it’s his cock inside you instead, each vein prominent as the ridges of your wall hug him completely. Satoru replaces his hand with your pussy as well, that the fist running down his dick is you bouncing on his cock instead. He can already picture the way your breasts bounce in front of him and Satoru shudders, “Tits,” he growls, “I want to see your fucking tits. Want to feel them on my hands,” Satoru chuckles at how eagerly you lift your shirt up to show him the beaded nipples, teeth biting down on the material with your hands still knuckle-deep in your pussy.

“Fuck, you’re always so pretty, babe.”

“Miss you,” you keep crying out, words muffled through the shirt you’re biting. You pinch your nipple at the same time you rapidly finger yourself, your pussy squelching and the sounds pornographic as it echoes all the way to Satoru’s phone. You miss him so fucking much that it’s unreal. There’s no more self control when your back hits the bed, hips lifting off the bed and giving Satoru a clearer view of your juices dripping down your ass.

Satoru can’t resist the way his balls tighten, desperate to have you right next to him so he can fuck your brains out already. He wishes he could come home and be in your warmth, be in your embrace, but he’s still got curses to kill that fucking you would just have to wait much to both parties’ displeasure.

Sweat is beading down his forehead as he watches you thrash around your bed, his cock only growing harder and a low growl emanating from his throat when you keep moaning satoru, satoru, satoru, I love you so fucking much.

“I love you too,” he manages to say in shaky breaths. “You’re so perfect for me – fuck.”

You push yourself off the edge by pulling your lips aside and pinch at your clit. At that, your back arches off the bed, making your fingers dig deeper into you and for a split second, you manage to hit your g-spot. Satoru can tell you’re close by the way your legs spasm and he encourages you, spitting down his cock as he pumps his fist around his length almost angrily.

“That’s good, baby, keep going, keep going,” his teeth clenches when you nod, tears falling down your pretty cheeks. “Want to fuck you so good – I’d have you screaming around my neck while I take you from behind and shove your face down the pillow,” you moan in response, the sound high pitched and almost whiny. Satoru chuckles before he cuts himself off with a hiss, his balls tightening and his cock throbbing already. “Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You want me to fuck your ass when I get home?”

“Yes, yes, please,” your belly tightens at the thought of Satoru stretching your tight hole, even better if he pulls at your hair while his hips slam at the flesh of your ass.

Rubbing your clit fervently, Satoru’s name comes out as a broken cry as your orgasm chokes you. The tears are staining your cheeks the same way your cum is making a mess on the sheets, and you grind down harder on the sheets, scissoring yourself just to extend your orgasm.

“Satoru,” you whine, “Fuckkk.”

“I’m close, baby, I’m-” Satoru falls forward when his cock shoots out thick ropes of cum, some of them landing on his abdomen and one sticks to his chin. Your pupils blow wide with lust as you shudder around your fingers while riding down your high, in disbelief that Satoru is cumming so much.

He’s shameless as he continues thrusting into his fists. You’re worried he would overuse his strength and beat his cock to death, but Satoru only chuckles as he keeps pumping his cock, his cum overflowing and pooling down his thick thighs.

“Shit,” he mumbles to himself, falling in the same state as you when he drops down on the bed. His dick begins to turn limp but it’s still twitching, turning a dark shade of pink as he beats his dick almost lazily the time. The both of you take a moment to breathe at the orgasm; not as mind blowing as the ones you’d get if he was there rutting into you instead, but because he’s there, you’re still left with the aftershocks of pleasure.

Wiping the arousal left on your hands on your shirt, you grab your phone and fall into your pillows, cheeks squished and eyelashes fluttering slowly. “Toru,” you call out softly, “You asleep?”

“I want to come home already,” is all he says. He���s still half-passed out in his bed and you laugh, rubbing your thighs together and grimacing when it starts to stick together from your cum. Glancing at Satoru’s form, you dash to the bath to clean yourself up by washing away the cum, coming back to see that Satoru was also in the middle of cleaning his cum with napkins.

“Facetime sex,” he laughs to himself with a shake of his head, mirroring your form by langind on his pillows. He looks absolutely adorable with his lips puckered out like that, azure blue eyes drooping close. “I miss you, babe. I promise when I come home I’m going to fuck you endless.”

You chuckle at his words, wondering how he’s able to say such suggestive things when he’s seconds away from passing out due to exhaustion. Your eyelids grow heavy as well, and along with the light blanket of satisfaction and post-orgasm bliss, the only thing that wouldn’t make this a good night of sleep is the fact Satoru isn’t next to you. Nevertheless, you’re grateful that Satoru took the time to call you despite his busy schedule.

Your heart flutters when Satoru lazily calls you baby, mumbling on and on about how much he misses you. Now that he’s come down from his high, he’s reverting into his big baby self.

His eyes are closed and he’s burying himself deeper into his pillows. You’re about to say goodbye when Satoru lightly snores from the other line, a smile tugging at your lips when you see that he’s now blissfully asleep. Wishing that you could run your hands through his hair, at least, you kiss the screen in the hopes it’d reach him at least metaphorically.

“Sleep well, my love,” you whisper before swiping left to end the call.

Even through the other end of the line, on the other side of the world, Satoru’s worries and exhaustion are washed away with the love you send him.

[hansolmates]

a hero’s journey (m)

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

prompt used: “I should’ve known.”

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

It’s so easy to ignore the world. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe a little too well. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wow. So that explains everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Understandable.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But honestly? Fuck Jisoo. 

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

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

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

“Sounds good, thanks Joonie.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nevermind, get out of my apartment.” 

“Uh, this is my apartment.” 

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

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

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

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

“Remember Jeon Jungkook? Majored in graphic design.”

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

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

A pause. And then, “Want a beer?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re running away.” 

“Am not.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, yeah.” 

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

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

“You miss her?” 

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

“Did you talk about it?” 

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

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

“And are you trying to get over him?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

“But it works!” 

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

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

“Bumble.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or are you? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? I can pay for my own food—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I allowed to state my opinion?” 

“Since you asked so politely, no.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, he’s your fuck buddy then?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Namjoon holds out his hand, “Hand.” 

“No—”

“Hand.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pizza also sounds good—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do I want to know?”

“No.” 

“Do you want me to leave?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m home, Jungkookie!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

vernie bernie: or a tickle to my pickle? 

vernie bernie: beatin ya bean? 

You: ohmyGOD 

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

You: call. Ill come after dinner

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey Pretty Girl–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only recently,” you frown. 

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

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

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

“Because I wanted to protect you!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you still love him?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey Pretty Girl—

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

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

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

Hopefully yours, Jungkook

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’cha got there, partner?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey Pretty Boy...

Jungkook and Jisoo are no longer together, evidently. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi: come inside, u loser. 

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

You: dw i’ll wait, it’s only 11:50

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—coming along?” 

“Wha?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mean by what?” 

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

“Well, we’re here now, right?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook,” you whine, “read mine.” 

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

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

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

“I’m on page eighty-three.” 

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

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

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

“Yes ma’am.” 

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

“I wish you did, too.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook…” 

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

“Jungkook—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

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

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

“Please, baby.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

some time later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then the hotel room?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

“You know I love you, right?” 

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

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

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

“You’re terrible.” 

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

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

[hanazou]

hello,, I’ve been feeling down lately and a loved one of mine recently has passed away...

if you are comfortable with it may I request a scenario of Atsushi and Chuuya comforting their s/o who were grieving over a death of a loved one? ;0 thank you I love your blog 💖💖

𝙘𝙝𝙪𝙪𝙮𝙖 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙨𝙝𝙞 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙛

Books : Chuuya | Atsushi

Genre : Comfort, romance

Category : Headcanons, short scenario

Shelves : Hardback | Paperback

Warning : Description of grief

Note : I am deeply sorry for your loss. I can’t do emergency requests but I tried to get this one out as fast as I could. I could only do short scenarios of this so I added headcanons, I hope this is alright. Once again, my condolences and please stay strong.

Chuuya has to ask you a couple of worried questions before it strikes him what you’re dealing with.

He will be on the verge of panicking when he first hears the bad news, worse if you're the one that has to tell him what happened. He instantly undergoes flashbacks from experiencing something like this himself and he fears that your coping with the grief might harm you.

If you can’t afford to talk to him like you usually do, he understands.

He stands/sits next to you, arms crossed, occasionally glancing at you to see if there’s any change in your stance, expression, anything.

He avoids staring at you directly in concern that you'd become pressured by him.

He’s ready to catch you if your legs fail you

Holds the top of your head lightly yet firmly. If you don’t show signs of protesting, he’d slowly pull you closer to his neck.

Getting physically affectionate is his prime card to comfort you, but before anything, he takes off his gloves so he won’t dirty you.

His fingers move kind of unevenly and feel rough, but that’s how you can feel his desire to support you

If you can’t stop crying or on the verge to go on a complete mental breakdown, he immediately collides his body against yours as tight and strong as he could.

If your legs give up, he drops down with you in his arms instead of keeping you standing with his ability and he’ll clutch your face close when you both land on the floor.

If you won’t hug him first, he’ll pull you to him. He forces your face down his shoulder so you’d grieve as much as your heart can empty while his hand brushes your back up and down.

“Cry as long as you need,”

Words, as I’ve once said, isn’t his speciality, but he tries regardless. He wants to make sure that you know you aren’t alone, that you have him with you.

He doesn’t talk as much but his distressed expression stays as long as he’s with you.

“You can take it out on my shoulder, you know,” He hesitates a bit, unsure if he sounds too rough.

If you can’t stop crying, he pats your shoulder, only knowing how to say “There, there” since he thinks it’s better than saying nothing at all. Chuuya thinks you need to hear him being there.

Chuuya squeezes through his tight schedule to make time for you.

He negotiates as best as he could with Mori to give him as much time off as possible.

If it’s impossible to take a week off, he goes full rampage in his job with the thought of you in his head motivating him to finish everything as soon as possible, making a mess where he goes.

If someone gets in his way, Chuuya shouts, "I've got someone more important to see, you punk!" while blasting them away.

He always brings food and drink over and makes sure you eat. He spoon-feeds you if necessary. He isn’t the cleanest but him wiping your face clean makes up for that.

"Come on, babe, you gotta eat," Chuuya says. "They won't like seeing you grieving like this, so eat, yeah? For them?"

If the emotions exhaust you to sleep, he sits against the wall and pulls you to him so you’d sleep against his body, making sure his limbs are around you so you’d never feel the loss of pressure around your body.

If it's cold, he wraps you with a blanket and occasionally touches your fingers to know whether you're staying warm or not.

Since Chuuya’s goal is to make sure you don’t feel alone or abandoned as I’ve mentioned, he does everything to solidify his presence.

He calls often if he has to be away, he sends food delivery, leaves short sticky notes, and sends voice messages.

It’s noticeable he doesn’t know what to say and even more obvious that he wants to keep reaching out to you.

Chuuya tries to strike a light and brief conversation once in a while. He’s disturbed by your uncharacteristic silence, it scares him.

“Do you want some takoyaki?” He’d ask randomly. The anxiety on his face never wavers away.

He does any activity that comes to mind when he stays at your place, but regardless of what he does, he’s never more than three feet away from you.

Always, without fail, kisses you good morning and good night on the forehead regardless he stays at your place or not.

Or if you're not opposed to it, Chuuya wants to take you to his place. He may still have to go to work, but something doesn't feel right about leaving you alone for so long in a place he's not too familiar with. At least in his space, you're constantly reminded you're not alone and that you're there because you're never abandoned.

Like a strayed ship in a storming ocean, your emotions are the waves storming your damaged vassal of conscience to the point that even looking forward to sunray from the bleak sky of endless cloud sounds mythical, making speaking a heavy chore. You’ve been exhausting yourself to sleep, soaking everything with your tears until it no longer comes out. It’s frustrating, it’s turbulent, so active in making you passive. Your tears run out but not the multiple stabs around your heart. Your voice leaves you but not the intensity or the transparency of hurt on your face.

It feels impossible, fictional, but if it were, then you aren't supposed to have your heart cauterized. It's the reminder of the bitter truth you're grappling against accepting.

If they had to go, why not bring the pain with them? Why do they have to leave you fractured, incomplete, empty, by transcending away while you stay behind, only able to watch them shrink somewhere unreachable?

Why do pieces of you have to be chipped off your already fragile soul, leaving holes in your essence? Why leave many pieces behind, why leave you alone?

“Hey,” A voice zaps your mind back to your head.

You remove your face from your wrinkled, moist, and sweaty palms, everything in front of you foggy from the swelling of your eyes. You still wear your dark clothes, unable to find the heart to change into something new, something brighter, after the sudden tragedy strikes. It was not, and still not is, in your capability to even stand up to eat.

Chuuya’s oddly timid and soft-sounding voice for this week is what makes you feel something other than rocking instability.

Slightly opening your eyes to see him, his figure before you hurts your eyes from how colourful he is. His face appears like a messy mix of vibrant paint, his orange hair, blue eyes and fair skin, and dark clothes sticking out from the stale background behind him.

A pair of silver keys, ones that unlock your door, stand out from his black-gloved hand from beneath his tightened fist. He puts it in his pocket and takes your hands, forcing you to stand and steadies your arms when your knees wobble.

"Have you eaten the lunch I had delivered here?" He pats off the dust from your shoulders and arms, his vibrant face still paining your swollen eyes.

Your eyes roll to the untouched paper bag on the table. You figure Chuuya’s eyes follow because of the stifled sigh he holds in.

"Babe, come on…"

"I can't," is what you try to say, although with your dry throat, it comes out like scorched empty words. "I'm sorry, I know you picked it with great care and thoughts so I'd eat, but I just can't, not when—" You catch a coarse breath. "Not when I'm like this, I can't yet."

"Still don't want to talk about it?" His voice squeezes. "You can't keep it in forever, you know, and you really shouldn't."

With your blurry vision, you figure that his arms extend open. A weak ‘what?’ is all you can hoarsely ask.

“Saying nothing, skipping meals and not drinking.” He says sourly. “Let out your grieve like how it should be done. That's what they'd want too."

Your tears make a reappearance at either a bad or perfect timing, depends on how you tilt your head to see it. They prickle your eyes, some rushing down your face.

“Come here,” Chuuya says, perhaps frowning from the way his voice changed.

Your eyes close slowly before opening again, your puffed eyelids troubling you from keeping your eyes opened. “I don’t think I can,” You sound like an overworked opera singer. “If I hug you, I won’t be able to let go and I might suffocate you without meaning to.”

You think Chuuya makes a sound of annoyance until a force smashes your body forward, lunging your face against him. The brief faint glow of orange earlier helps you process that he used his ability on you to bring you to him. Now his arms trap you in him, your forehead strongly weighted on his shoulder.

“Then suffocate me,” His muffled voice says from behind your head, one of his hands taking your arm to hold his body. “I’m always here.”

Your hands stretch his shirt with your tight clasp as you feel yourself getting lost in the waves. The turbulence crashes out from within you as you incoherently cry on Chuuya’s stable body, him becoming your guaranteer in the midst of the rocking forces that threaten your balance. His rigid arms support your weight as you wail out, ensuring that the waves don’t sweep you away, somewhere unreachable from him. He secures you, letting you explore the storm’s rolling waves while still grounding you safe.

“I’m here,” The soft wind in the storm grazes your ear. “I promise.”

Atsushi is one of the most sympathetic and empathetic people you could ask for when it comes to comfort you through your grief.

He’s nowhere oblivious to someone who’s hurting. He recognizes what kind of pain you’re going through and it doesn’t take him too long to identify what you’re feeling and the intensity of it although he can’t process it into words.

Atsushi is so worried sick for you that he has trouble thinking straight and his breaths get faster.

He’s really anxious about you feeling left behind or abandoned.

He makes sure that you don’t doubt that your beloved one who has to leave earlier definitely loves you.

It breaks him if you think of things such as disappointing them, unable to fulfil their wishes, etc.

Atsushi can feel your hurt as if it’s his own, and because of his heightened emotional senses, he’s quick to jump in to support you. It’s instinctive.

He’s at first hesitant to touch you, let alone comfort you with his embrace, so he starts with generic sentences like “I’m so sorry” and “You can lean on me” while offering his empty shoulder

It’s challenging for him, but Atsushi is persistent to comfort you with his words before he touches you.

He insists on speaking before holding you around him.

Atsushi validates your feelings by putting his guesses of how you’re currently feeling into words. He’s not the best with words so he’ll struggle to pick his vocabulary, but the things he says are mostly true.

“I’m sorry you have to feel like your heart is becoming stiff,”

“If you feel like everything around you is empty, I’m still here,”

When he does get to the point where he feels that physical touch can help you, Atsushi is very tender.

He starts with wiping your tears away until your cheeks are drier and offers you tissues. He’ll help you blow your nose

He removes the hair sticking to your face and wipes your face until you’re dry

He hugs you like he's the one broken; putting his face on your shoulder, arms hanging from your neck. It's because that he fears that you might get as hopeless as him. He dreads for that for that happen so he holds you with the strongest Affirmation he can give.

"I'm with you, I'll always be," He keeps repeating while he hugs you.

Touches your fingers most of the time and squeezes your hand

Atsushi fights tooth and nail to get several days off to stay with you in your place. He’ll have a whole speech prepared so he can convince Fukuzawa and Kunikida

He’ll spend the morning bargaining with Fukuzawa in his office after giving Kunikida a 15 minute TED talk about how badly he can empathize with your loss and how he’s rock certain you need his company

He asks Kyouka to help him make your food that’s easy to digest for the stomach, like soup and porridge. You can best bet that she’s going to add some tofu to it.

“Kyouka-chan helped me make this fish soup,” Atsushi presents you the bento boxes, unwrapping the cloth. “Let’s eat, okay? You have to keep your stomach filled. I’ll help you.”

If he’s unable to spend the night at your place, Atsushi makes sure to arrive at 6 am sharp every day to check on you, and the earliest he’ll leave is around 8 o’clock

He cleans your place every day diligently and does an excellent job at it. Doing the dishes, cleaning the floor, making sure the sink is clean and ensures the bathroom floor isn’t slippery. He doesn’t want an untaken care living space to worsen your emotional state.

Despite always bringing fresh food, Atsushi makes sure to cook fresh batches of rice to eat with anything he delivers so if you miraculously want to eat something, you’ll have something to consume.

If he has to leave for a while, he surrounds you with plush toys. If you don't have any, he borrows Kyouka's bunny plushies collection and arranges them around you, your pillow, the corner of your bed, and on your blanket.

Atsushi never wants you to forget that your loved one loves you. He does everything in his power to remind you everyday that although they're gone, the love they have for you will eternally stay with you and that nothing can ever change that.

He hugs you while verbally reminding you of that.

His hugs always lasts a long while if you're not uncomfortable with it. He can stay long minutes in that position.

Or he sits/lays down next to you in silence, doing absolutely nothing. He's anxious about the quietness himself so his fingers are always near yours.

Words of affirmation randomly comes out. Sometimes he talks about his personal experience to encourage you that everything will be alright, sometimes he tells you the reasons to his belief why your loved one's love for you preserves through all.

He keeps his talks motivational and faithful for the future. Sometimes he'd quote the things Dazai had said to him, filtering out the nonsense if necessary, or the things he always told himself in hope for a brighter tomorrow.

A breathing doll has been haunting your room for a week. It blinks, it moves, it can be spoonfed, but nobody at a glance would argue that it lives. It’s a doll. Calling it an undead is more generous than calling it a doll because of the existing needs. A doll sits inanimately, breathes at the bare minimum, and is devoid of wants and needs.

It’s the perfect status to illustrate how corpse-like you’ve been living like for this week. Your stone-cold face, just as cold fingers, eyes that barely shift, dried mouth and chapped lips make it a challenge to have you described as something living. To even use the word ‘live’ to describe you is contradictory and to hear the word ‘live’ suffocates your throat and clamps your once functioning heart. The indescribable pain mutes you, paralyzes you, turning you doll-like.

A broken doll, you are, once full, once living and moving until the one you love had to bid life farewell first without warning.

One tireless and loyal white-haired boy frequents you every day, bearing food and water to make sure the living doll in your room doesn’t fade into the cold. Cobwebs would have formed between your arms and your bed if he didn’t clean you off the filth you don’t bathe away, your nerves have been too dormant for you to feel filthy.

A bright white figure shifts around in front of you like a poltergeist. You pay it no mind. This isn't the first or second time you're seeing things that aren't there, or rather, someone who isn't supposed to be here. Your cluelessness to cope with the grave reality seems to have driven your brain on autopilot, it seems that this time it decides to give you a hallucination so you'd have someone to cling to.

A sudden snap startles your eyes to open wider, albeit without focus. Something black was in front of you, it had five branches and moves so... humanly. Like it's real. You trace it back to the white hallucination in front of you and it takes you a while to realise that you aren't hallucinating. The white haired boy who has been frequenting your place is here again today.

"Atsushi..." His name falls emptily through your teeth.

Atsushi’s mouth opens and his lips move in accordance. His face wrinkles to the centre. The inconsistent pressure he applies around your cold hand before holding you as tight as now tells you of how fragile he knows you are.

His mouth opens again familiarly. You shift your eyes to him without any effort to listen through the incoherent sound.

When his lips move for the third time, you figure out he has been calling your name. You blink twice and his chest deflates with a long exhale.

“You’ll pull through,” His hold around your hand boldens as he grit his teeth. “They had to depart first but they did so while loving you. You're loved, they love you. You can use that to push on, their love for you lives on and so do your memories of them.”

He observes you with high intensity as if expecting you to speak. You notice the disappointment when all your eyes do is gaze hollowly through him. You think he breathes in a sob from the sudden squeak he makes.

Your eyes lazily roll to follow your hand Atsushi lifts to put against his face. “I’m with you, I'll always will be. You’re not alone, you’re not alone, you’re not alone.” He chants. “You’re never alone, you’re never alone.”

He brings your hand down against his chest. Something beats inside to hammer you the reminder that it will never stop thrumming. The warmth reminds your nerves of something. It feels contagious, bringing you recollecting something you used to feel often.

“I promise, I promise, I promise,” Atsushi hurriedly says, “I’ll always be here for you.”

Like a mantra, his words deliver the familiar sensation his chest makes you feel to your essence. After your slowed blink, you tilt down your head and tilt back up, repeating that movement until it’s fitted to be called a nod. Atsushi heaves a breath out and pulls your hand to get between his arm and side until your upper body drops against his.

“They watch over you, I promise,” His hand holds your head as you passively breathe on his shirt. "Anytime and anywhere, they're with you, and so am I.” He says airily. "You're never alone and never will be. They're with you and I'm staying forever, you'll never see your side empty, I promise they watch over you, I promise, I promise, I promise,"

Your head tilts to the side, giving more space to breathe. His solid body exudes more of the feeling you don’t realize you crave. It reaches your throat eventually, nourishing you with words you once lost.

"Thank you," You whisper.

A living doll you temporarily are but not forever, and most certainly, a loved human you are for as long as the memory of your beloved and Atsushi keep you close to them.

© all rights reserved to hanazou. do not repost, modify, or claim any of my works as your own.

[marvels-bitch-boy]

Emerald Eyes: Chapter 4

Chapter 4: (No one’s POV)

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: This is the longest thing I have ever written in my entire life, I haven't written anything this long even for school, so I really hope you enjoy it and PLEASE IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED FILL OUT THE FORM AND LEAVE SUGGESTIONS OR YOUR ENDGAME VOTE

Chapter 3 , Chapter 5

It was around 7 am that Steve called Natasha and Wanda into a meeting in the conference room, when Wanda got there she saw an irritated Natasha sitting down and the usual stoic Steve standing at the end of the table, She took a seat on the opposite side of Natasha and gave her a confused look, one that Natasha returned with a shrug.

Steve cleared his throat as he began talking to the two women, he turned to Wanda first and started “I was just given a new last-minute mission that requires your set of skills in order to get new intel on a fast-rising Russian mob that has been dealing in weapons as of late, its a three month no contact opp...are you up for it?” Wanda knew that he was only asking out of politeness when a mission that needed her powers was put on the books it was more of command than an ask from SHIELD “yes, I’m up for it, how long till I leave?” Steve nodded “the quinjet will be leaving in 30 to take you”

Steve turned his head to the resident Russian and gave a desperate small as he began “there is a recruit who-” Natasha immediately cut him off “no, I’m not babysitting some new recruit while Wanda gets to go on a vacation...” Steve gave her a pleading look and she rolled her eyes as she sighed “...fiiinee, what do I have to do?” He nodded and continued his earlier statement “There is a recruit who Pietro thinks needs a more advanced training partner and regimen, you are being tasked with his review to determine whether he will get that....and trust me, Nat, this isn’t your regular recruit, he’s something special I promise you”

Natasha and Wanda shared a look of confusion, it’s not every day the super-soldier promises something of a recruit, he ignores their looks and slides them each a manila folder “here you go, enjoy yourselves you two, and Nat...don’t kill the poor kid” she chuckles at his remark as she and Wanda get up and head out of the room, they share a quick hug and Natasha wishes her good luck, Wanda laughs at that “oh, all the luck needs to go to that recruit!”

As Wanda finishes packing for her mission and heads towards the quinjet, Pietro stops her to say goodbye and wish her well on the mission. Vision is at the quinjet helping a few agents double-check the engine and guiding system, he and Wanda share a tender hug and a small kiss goodbye before she takes off for her mission.

---

On the other side of the compound however a young SWORD recruit has no idea what is in store for him as he walks to the training room he was informed to go to for his review, but as soon as he opens the door he is stopped in his tracks by a radiant and glowing pair of emerald eyes that lock onto his, his eyes go from the woman’s to her shoulder-length ruby red hair, he clears his throat as soon as he realizes how long he is staring for which gives the woman a small smile, he begins to introduce himself.

“Hi, I’m agent Y/L/N, I was told to come here for a review of some kind?...” he trailed off as she extended a hand, “I’m well aware of who you are and as for the review I will be conducting it...I’m Natasha Romanoff, hopefully by the end of this, we can see if you really do need a more advanced regimen”

The agent’s eyes go wide with shock and then he is hit with a wave of realization as he puts his head back and groans “Pietro...you dick” this makes Natashas laugh even more now that she knows (Y/N) himself didn’t even request for the advancement, she brushes it off and continues tho “okay let’s see what you got, we’ll start off with marksmanship and work our way down he list from there as she walks over to the bench with a clipboard and one 9mm pistol is sitting, he walks over and puts his training bag and hoodie on the bench and puts his eyewear on as Natasha goes to set up the targets, he waits for her to mark where he will be shooting from but she never does, instead she tells him to just start shooting, he is confused by this and natasha simply sighs and walks over to him, she takes the gun and shoots at the targets as she makes her way across the room when she is finished she hands the gun back to him and gives him a new clip, he now understands what she wants him to do and mirrors her movements as he makes his way across the room while shooting down the targets, he waited for her to look them over with a smile, before she moves on “now strip dow-” she is quickly interupted by the agent.

“Woah! You’re very attractive and all but I usually like to get to know people before I start that sentence” he tells her with a grin as she removes his SWORD issue sweater Natasha waits for him to finish before she continues “strip down...and head to the pool…” the agent gives him a smirk before she turns around and walks away “...and maybe after you can buy me a drink to get to know me better” this leaves (Y/N) stunned but he quickly recovers and jogs after her and steps in front of her “if I impress you enough, can I make that a real offer?” Natasha simply continues walking and turns back to him “we’ll see…”

---

(Y/N) finishes the swimming portion of the review and looks up at Natasha with a wide grin as she tells him the next part of the review “okay, good job next you’ll be running around the compound’s dirt-” she is immediately cut off by him jumping out of the pool and taking off sprinting towards the exit, he quickly grabs his shoes and puts them on as he takes offs to the track “GOT IT!” she didn't know if he was trying his best impress her simply for the advancement -or the offer of drinks they had wagered...

---

Natasha sees him running on the track and is writing down her notes on her clipboard, as she is writing down she overhears a few of the female recruits making comments about (Y/N) and Natasha didn’t like this, obviously, she simply wanted them to stop before he got distracted so she “politely” asked them to stop

“Would you pick your jaws off the floor and stop drooling over him like you've never seen a man before?”

The women scoff as they walk away from her, she turns her attention back to (Y/N), but out of the corner of her eye she can see Pietro leaning against the wall giving her the biggest smirk, she doesn’t look away from the agent running at top speed in front of her as she addresses the speedster next to her “wipe that look off your face before I send Clint after you”

That remark does nothing but makes the silver-haired mans face go wide his smirk turns into a grin as he ignores her threat “just wanted to come and see if he got on your good side…” he gives her a wink “...and I can see he has indeed” Pietro attempts to runaway as Natasha fakes him out of a punch and trips him flat on his face, this makes (Y/N) laugh as he runs by and that laugh seems to make a corner of her mouth lift only slightly before she returns to her normal impassive face and writing down in her notes again.

After (Y/N) completes his laps around the track Natasha offers him a 5-minute break to cool off before the next part of the review, he simply shrugs and chugs his water before heading into the compound and making his way to the training room, when Natasha enters after (Y/N) she is shocked to see him warming up for their sparring match and not passed out on the floor after the number of laps he did...she thinks back to what steve said “what does he have the serum in him?” she questions to herself as she looks over the young man, she simply shakes the thought out of her head as she joins him on the mat, they both get into position and prepare to spar “Remember we don’t stop until you or me is pinned or one of us taps out...got it?”

He simply gives her a smirks “got it…” they both size each other up as they circle the mat “...are you just gonna stare at me?...or... will you actually let me ask you out?” he says in a -very convincing- humorous tone, Natasha ultimately decides to make the first move and goes for his legs, (Y/N) moves out of the way grapples onto her, Natasha gets out of his grasp and attempts to flip him over, but he uses his momentum to flip her with him and they both land flat on their backs, they quickly get back up and continue to go at it for the next hour until…

“OKAY OKAY!!!... you can let go of my wrists now...and get off of me *very playfully with a smirk* if you want to of course” (Y/N) says after Natasha pins him to the mat, she rolls her eyes at his comment, “I thought this is what you wanted?” which makes him laugh as she gets off of him.

“As I said before, only after we get to know each other...speaking of? How did I do?...impress you enough for that drink?” Natasha raises a brow as she pretends to think for a split second she gives him an unreadable look “you’ll have to wait for that…” the corners of her lips start to lift but quickly return to their place as Pietro enters the room.

“Hello, my friends! How has the review gone!? Have you two...gotten acquainted” he says the last two words while wiggling his eyebrows with a very playful tone as he walks to stand between the two of them, Natasha lightly chuckles and excuses herself. Pietro turns to (Y/N) and puts his arm over his shoulder as they walk over to the bench for (Y/N) to grab his things, as they walk out Pietro continues to talk about how his sister had to leave for a mission so he needs a new friend to hang out with while she’s gone, (Y/N) quickly tunes him out as they make their way back to his quarters, when they enter his room Pietro immediately notices the amount of space in the room and on the walls.

“Dude! You need to spice this place up! Unpack a bit!” as he goes to lay on (Y/N’s) bed, (Y/N) responds as he sits on his desk chair “um...I already did…” he trails off as he gestures to the books on one shelf, the four pictures on his desk and his closet. This makes Pietro sit up immediately and look at him “no! This isn’t the room of a single-fairly attractive-guy...this looks like capsicles room, maybe even more barren…” he trails off as he glances over the room again.

(Y/N) gives him a confused look, to him, this was all he needed to be comfortable in his new space...right? He was okay with only having a few things, being able to pack up his life in only a matter of minutes if needed, like he was never there at all. He shook his head as Pietro started talking again “we need to get you some stuff! Like a rug, a few posters, maybe even a beanbag, and definitely more clothes! I mean dude all you have is the training gear and... two uniforms? Dude, c’mon you don’t even have a pair of jeans? or sneakers?” as he starts making his way around the room and stopping at his closet and giving (Y/N) a sympathetic look.

(Y/N) just attempts to defend himself “I don’t see the point in that stuff, what if I have to leave?” Pietro just scoffs “dude you gotta live alittle! Make it look like you actually live here...and weren’t trapped in ice for 70 years” he contemplates Pietros words for a moment and sighs in defeat “fine…” he looks up at Pietro who looks like little kid waiting for good news “...can you help me live alittle?” as soon as the words leave his mouth Pietro punches the air with a victorious grin “yes!! You won’t regret this! I promise you, my friend…” he grabs (Y/N’s) shoulders “...you will learn to live if its the last thing I do” (Y/N) laughs at how excited Pietro has gotten.

Pietro starts to grab (Y/N) and attempts to drag him out of the room but (Y/N) simply pretends to yawn “you know man how about we start tomorrow after training…” he grabs his shoulder “...I’m a little tired and my shoulder is killing me” Pietro huffs and drops his shoulders as he gets to the doorway.

“Fine, get some rest…” he turns and points at (Y/N) as he walks out of the room into the hallway “...cuz I’ll be holding you to that!” and with that, he is off, and (Y/N) is free for the night so he decides to relax in his quarters after grabbing his dinner, he soon falls asleep and in the morning when he wakes up he finds a manilla folder on his desk with a sticky note on top. He makes his way over to it and reads the note “seems you’ve made an impression” -steve, he cautiously opened the folder to find a new training plan and schedule assigned to him a big grin spread across his face as he got ready and headed down to grab breakfast, as he made his way to the training room he was informed his new partner was expecting him in. As he walked into the room, he was greeted by a pair of magnetic emerald eyes, they yet again stopped him in his tracks, the redhead greeted him with a small smile and raised a brow “are you going to join me? Or are you going to be standing there the whole time staring at me?” he cleared his throat as he shook his head and placed his things down and joined her on the mat.

“Sorry, but...I’m guessing that this means I did impress you?” Natasha shook her head and answered with a coy smile on her face “you’ll have to wait a little longer”, and with that, he advances towards her as they begin.

Taglist:

@littlewinchester15 @ethanwoods1

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 8- Bottled Appetites

Summary: A peaceful day can turn sour so fast, but alas, it still never fails to bring you adventure. Whether you’re ready for it or not.

Warnings: Jaskier being stubit, blood, Geralt being a hottie, a bit of smut

Masterlist

Today couldn't be more beautiful, the sun is shining her grand radiance and the forest is full of life as you listen to the singing of birds from your comfortable spot on a large tree branch that's hanging over top of Geralt. He's currently focused intently on fishing out a djinn to hopefully cure his sleep apnea that's been really bothering him as of late. Well, that's at least the reasoning he's claimed.

You've tried to help him with herbs, potions, and more sensual physical activities. But nothing has appeared to work, so here he is, grumpier then usual as he throws a fishing net into the river in hopes that he'll snag himself a djinn in a bottle.

Laying your back against the long branch, one of your legs swings casually back and forth as you listen to your surroundings. Your stomach growls from lack of any sufficient food in the last two days when your ears suddenly hear the tell tale singing of a certain bard as he strolls through the woodland in search of his long time friends, "Cause you all know. That this bard. Loved ladies from Nilfgaard. 'Cause Nilfgaard can kiss my..." Sings the bard as he wanders down the trail until his eyes land on your Witcher, "Geralt! Hello. What's it been months? Years? What is time, anyway? I heard you and Y/N...wherever she is....were in town.' His voice is just as cheerful and upbeat as you'd remembered, "Are you following me, you scamp? I mean I'm flattered and everything, but I think that feisty lady of yours may start to get jealous." Rambles Jaskier as he takes out his flask.

He takes a small sip before offering it to Geralt, who ignores him, Jaskier shakes this off and keeps to his questioning when suddenly you drop down from seemingly out of nowhere. Doing a fantastic job at scaring the shit out of Jaskier in your abrupt arrival, he yelps before stumbling back a few feet. "Dear gods Y/N have you been just hanging around in the treetops like some type of...of..bat?" He stammers breathlessly, a hand over his thudding heart.

Smirking at him you throw him a quick wink, "Only for you my humble bard." He stands up straight as a light blush dusts his cheeks as you turn to follow Geralt down the side of the river path, while he searches for a better spot to catch this djinn, Jaskier trailing behind you both.

"Geralt, you're fantastic at a great many things, but clearly, fishing is not one of them. Have you caught anything today? What are you fishing for, exactly?" Intrudes Jaskier as Geralt fiddles with his netting while you lean against a tree, "Is it cod? Carp?" He looks to you for a second before his attentions back on Geralt, "Pike? Bream? I'm just....I'm just listing off fish that I know. Zander? Is that a fish?" Wonders the bard as he raises a brow at you.

You simply shrug, "He's not fishing, can't sleep." Jaskier nods, not sure what to do with that information.

"Right. Good. Well, that...makes sense. In so much that it sort of...doesn't." Frowns Jaskier as he suddenly looks a bit more worried, "What's going on Geralt, talk to me."

Geralt stops before letting out a tired sigh as he looks to Jaskier, "A djinn." Is all he admits before he's back to grappling with his net.

You watch as Jaskier's face scrunches up in deep confusion, "A what?"

"I'm looking for a djinn." Grumbles Geralt as the bards face looks even more puzzled then before.

Then all at once it seems that he's finally connected the dots, a smirk breaking upon his face as he sets his hands onto either hip, "For a dj....for a djinn? A dj...like a genie?" Laughs Jaskier as he wiggles his fingers in a playful manner, "The floaty fellas with the....the bad tempers and the banned magics, that kind of genie?"

Geralt stand up once again, a hard expression across his brow while Jaskier fails at concealing his laughter, "Yes. It'll grant me wishes. It's in this river somewhere. And I can't FUCKING SLEEP!" Snaps Geralt, golden eyes glowing even brighter as his anger boils over.

Geralt glances to you for a brief moment before turning and walking further down the river path, the bard follows suite as you trail behind them, amused at Jaskier's continuous rambling about his latest adventures and the possible reason why Geralt is so sleep deprived.

"Have you ever considered why you may be feeling this way hm, let's say...oh I don't know, we find the root of the problem. I mean, maybe, just maybe this whole sleeplessness-ness has got something to do with what the druid Mousesack said to you guys in Cintra? You know, the Law of Surprise? Destiny? Being unable to escape the child that belongs to you, et cetera, et cetera?" Inquires Jaskier as you watch Geralt prepare to throw in the net.

"No! Y/N was there too and she's fine....this is something else." Grumbles your Witcher as he throws his net into the waters below.

Jaskier looks from you to Geralt, hands on his hips the whole time, "Yeah, you're probably right. But what if you're not? You know, the Countess de Stael once said to me...that destiny is just the embodiment of the soul's desire to grow." Explains Jaskier he walks past you to sit down on a log.

A small laugh escapes from your lips as you turn to the bard, "Did you sing to her before she left?" You honestly couldn't help yourself, pushing Jaskier's buttons is just a solid talent of yours.

He looks out at the water, "I did, actually, and she.." His head quickly turns to you once he realizes what that comment suggested, "Why, what are you implying?" Wonders Jaskier as he tilts his head to you, a smirk breaks out upon your face as you then bite your lip to keep silent. He gets up from the log, an abashed expression crossing his features, "Oh, we are so having this conversation. Come on, Y/N. Geralt. Tell me. Be honest. How's my singing?"

You cross your arms over your chest while casually looking out at the river and pretend that he hasn't even said anything, although you're certain Geralt on the other hand will add his two cents. He tosses his net out into the water once again before turning to Jaskier, "It's like ordering a pie and finding it has no filling." Deadpans Geralt as you burst with laughter, Jaskier looking rather taken aback as his eyes go wide in surprise.

"You need a nap! I mean are you trying to hurt my feelings, Geralt? It's...it's down-downright indecorous of you, if I'm completely honest, and.." He quickly loses interest once Geralt unveils a bottle from his net, "Wow. Wow. What is...what is that?" Questions Jaskier as Geralt holds the djinn bottle in his muddy hands, you hover over his shoulder as you stare at the thing in amazement. It doesn't look like much but the wizards seal on the bottles cork is truly telling, too bad it doesn't have a three course meal inside.

"It's a wizards seal. The djinn." Geralt confirms softly as he studies the enchanted bottle until Jaskier suddenly grabs onto the bottles other handle.

"Do you mind if I...."

"Jaskier." Snaps Geralt as you stand back to watch, deciding it more entertaining if you don't intervene.

The bard points an accusing finger in his direction, "Take it back about my filling-less pie. Take it back, you get your djinny-djinn-djinn."

Rolling your crimson eyes you set a hand on your hip, "Let go Jask."

He turns to you with a fake sneer before snapping his attention back to your stoic Witcher, "No! No, you let go, you horse's arse!" Suddenly the bottle slips from Geralt's hand as he looks down at the cork in his fist, a confused expression on his handsome features as nothing appears to happen around either of them.

Jaskier studies the bottle in his hand, looking rather disappointed, "That's a bit of an anticlimax." He mutters dismally at the boring turn of events, although you can't help but notice as a soft supernatural whispering begins to make itself known to your hypersensitive ears, then right on cue does the wind begin to pick up, the woods feeling a bit darker as the clouds go grey up above, "Or is it?" He says excitedly as he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

Crossing your arms over your chest, your nerves prick at the odd change in the atmosphere, "Shit." You mumble while Jaskier walks past Geralt, he gives you a sour look as you grimace in knowing annoyance.

Standing on the edge of the riverbank, Jaskier points to the sky, "Djinn, I have freed thee, and as of this day, I am thy lord. Firstly, may Valdo Marx the troubadour of Cidaris, be struck down with apoplexy and die. Secondly, the Countess de Stael must welcome me back with glee, open arms and very little clothing. Thirdly..." Geralt quickly pulls him back in an attempt to shut him up before something terrible happens to him.

"Jaskier! Stop. There are only three wishes." Warns Geralt as you stand next to him, the both of you staring the bard down like two disappointed parents.

"You're a fucking idiot, Jask." You add bluntly as he simply rolls his blue eyes, unbothered by this djinn considering his two friends are a Witcher and dhampire.

"Only three wishes!" Grumbles Geralt as Jaskier observes his agitated demeanor.

"Oh, come on, you got Y/N, she's quite literally the best thing that's ever happened to you...how was I to know you wanted three wishes all to yourself?" Shouts the bard over the loud enchanted winds that are rapidly starting to build, ones that are rocking the tree branches and leaves every which way, as well as your hair.

"I just want some damn peace!" Bellows Geralt in frustration.

"Well, here's your peace!" Snaps Jaskier before idiotically smashing the bottle upon the ground in a blind moment of irritation.

Geralt quickly squats down to pick up the broken shards as you reach down to do the same, while picking them up he accidentally cuts himself on a sharp edge. You can instantly smell the blood, and though you haven't given into darker temptations in a long while. You're rather hungry from lack of coin to pay for any such meals that would gladly satisfy you, and right now it feels too much.

Snapping away from Geralt, you stand to your full height as you finally notice how sickly peculiar Jaskier is starting to appear, "Uh Y/N.." Gasps the bard breathlessly as he holds a hand to his throat, "Y/N...it's the djinn!" Stammers Jaskier as he points towards the river, you snap your attention to find a wispy black and purple mass racing for the three of you over the water.

Your eyes go wide in startled bewilderment, "Geralt!" You shout just as he stands and uses his magic to propel the creature back where it decides to take off into the sky.

Your Witcher stares up at the horizon as you catch the enthralling scent of blood once more, god you should really have eaten some berries or at least stolen something earlier to avoid this terrible primal hunger. You look over to Jaskier who's not looking too hot, a tiny trail of blood seeps out of the side of his mouth, his neck forming an unnatural lump as he wheezes in pain.

Geralt snaps his golden eyes down to the panicking bard, "Jaskier." He speaks before Jask leans over, a ruby red spurt of blood bursting from out of his mouth as he tries to gasp for breath, "Y/N?" Pleads Geralt in hopes that you can help him somehow. Though you're certain that if you would get any closer, you may break and give into your deeper vampiric desires that you've held at bay for so long. The part of you that has forever kept yourself from ever truly feeling human.

Shaking your head you flicker your eyes over to him, "I...I can't....I'm too starved....I'm sorry." You breath out, taking a cautious step back, the scent of Jaskier's warm blood on the breeze is enough to make your mouth water.

He purses his lips together, knowing that you can't do much for the time being, "Fuck." Grumbles Geralt as he quickly picks up Jaskier before booking it down the trail for Roach.

——

You follow in the form of a pack of bats close behind your boys as Geralt leads Roach to a small camp in the woods. You watch as he yells in question for a doctor, Jaskier slumped to the side as he leans into Geralt's broad back. Quickly a soldier confirms that an elven healer is inside, you land on a large firm tree branch, turning back into your original form as you watch them scurry into the grand white tent.

You focus your hearing and learn that if Jaskier's wounds are not treated by proper magic remedies, then he will certainly die. A pang of worry strikes you at the thought of your bard gone, and you do feel quite terrible knowing that he's in so much pain. But to your great or at least somewhat relief does the elf give Jaskier a pain relieving liquid concoction, thus explaining that a malicious and cunning mage is imprisoned in the mayor's house in the next town over who could heal the bards wounds.

A prominent feeling of uneasiness and caution surges throughout you at the thought of meeting another mage after months of evading any at all. Soon enough they quickly exit the tent and find themselves upon Roach's back before they take off in the direction of the closest town. With a heavy sigh you jump from the tree, shifting into a pack of whimsical black bats as you fly after Geralt throughout the tree tops and evening sky.

You're flight feels short lived as a couple miles later does Geralt finally find the large brick house of the mayor, its a rather beautiful place positioned on the edge of a huge lake with woods comfortably surrounding it. Roach gallops onto the gravel road when suddenly a tough half bald bearded man walks up to them. He gives them a hard time before Geralt abruptly knocks him out with a sack of coins, much to your amusement.

He takes Roach to the stables as you fly downward towards the ground, just as Geralt walks out of the barn with Jaskier dangling over his shoulder, you hastily shift back into your more presentable self. He gives you a nod of acknowledgment before a stern and determined look appears onto his hard features as he practically strides towards the closest wooden door. You follow behind as you clench your fists together in an attempt at distracting yourself from your ever growing hunger, the blood seeping out of Jaskier's mouth smells sweet as fresh berries as it wafts into your nostrils.

He wheezes in pain with every step that Geralt takes down the wine filled hallway which is enough to keep yourself from doing anything you'll regret later. He walks through a doorway before gently setting Jaskier onto the kitchen table, you follow in after him, your crimson eyes going wide as they find a naked man holding a brown shiny jug. He stares in awe at the three of you just as he drops his jug onto the stone floor below.

What the fuck?

A large drunken half smile makes its way onto his face, "Velcome...to my vome." Cheerfully announces the grey haired naked man, his arms spread wide in greeting, other parts of him also hanging out to your great disgust.

"You're the Mayor of Rinde?" Wonders Geralt as he looks to Jaskier.

Looking anywhere but the man, you throw a hand up before resting it onto your hip, "Our day has already been weird enough, why not meet a naked man in his home to top it all off, huh?" You jest with a nervous laugh, almost certain that this fool has been enchanted. He has to be, right?

The bard makes more wheezing sounds as Geralt's brow furrows in worry, "Uh, it there a mage that lives here?" The naked man turns to something sitting near Jaskier as his face shifts to that of realization.

"Ah. De apple jvuce. She vants some. And she alvays gets...vhat she vants." Whispers the man with a telling nod, oh yes he is without a doubt under some type of spell.

Geralt turns a confused eye to you, "I don't understand. Does he want me to get him the apple juice?" You turn your eyes back to the man as he goes to sit down in a chair, you look back to Geralt with a shrug, "No idea? Let's just find this fucking mage." You grumble as Jaskier tries to nod.

Your Witcher grabs the apples juice and the scruff of the bards baby blue jacket as he goes to walk into the nearest doorway. You turn back to the naked potbellied man only to be greeted with his loud snores, shaking your head you amble after your boys. As you follow closely behind Geralt you look down to notice as a greenish mist cascades out from under the closed door. He quickly pulls it open as more billows out and into the hallway, there's nothing on the other side but an ascending staircase, to the left another closed doorway that seems to have even more of the mist coming from it.

It's strange, you can hear muffled moaning on the other side and the rapid beating of many loud heartbeats. Your questions are quickly answered as the two of them walk into the next open doorway only to stumble upon a massive orgy. You keep behind the wall as you crinkle your nose in disgust at the strong scent of sex, sweat, and perfume in the air, a less than pleased expression crossing your features at the sickening toxins.

One that most likely matches Geralt's if you didn't know any better. You listen closely as he walks through the moaning crowd before he plops Jaskier next to someone, you feel almost sick from lack of food and the smell of this place is just about driving you mad. But you can't face the mage, something just doesn't feel right.

You listen as he speaks to her, your heart falling into your throat as she replies back, that voice, you haven't heard that voice in decades. But how? How could she be here of all places to be? Shaking your thoughts from your mind you eves drop in on their conversation until she begins to give him a hard time about payment, sounding rather too sensual for your liking.

"It's spreading, fix it. And I'll pay you. Whatever the price." Mutters Geralt to the familiar mage as he looks up at her from his spot near the small stairway that she's standing on.

"You'll have to do better then juice." Answers the mage slyly as she contemplates this intriguing new proposition.

"Yennefer." She stops in her tracks, her body tense as realization crosses her masked face, "Don't be difficult." You add as Geralt steps to the side, a confused expression on his face as he looks from you to Yennefer and back to you again.

She takes a step down, a small smirk adoring her ruby red lips as she looks you over, "Now this...is a surprise, how long's it been? I honestly wasn't certain that our paths would ever cross again, I was almost hoping they wouldn't....but alas. Here you are....it's good to see you Y/N." She smiles, studying your bloodshot eyes due to your increase in hunger, she smiles, "You look, famished." Concludes the mage with a tilt of her head.

You slightly shrug, "What a kind way to say I look like I'm halfway into hell....now, save him before he bleeds anymore."

She smiles, looking down at the djinn's bottle cap, "As you command, princess Y/N." Quips Yennefer with a smirk as she looks around the room, "Ragamuffin!" And just like that the mass orgy stops, the participating villagers snapping back to reality in the process. They quickly scramble to cover themselves as Yennefer looks to the two of you, nodding for you three to follow her to where she can heal Jaskier.

——

After clearing out half the pantry and about two small bottles of wine, you're finally satiated and no more half starved. You casually sit on the kitchen table as Geralt stares at the floor in worry for the bard and in deep questioning thought about how the hell you know Yennefer. You could practically cut the tension with a knife, but then much to your relief she comes walking down the steps.

Calmly announcing that Jaskier is in a deep healing sleep, and that you both urgently need a bath, something you wholeheartedly agree on. She hands the both of you some clean clothes as she directs you into the direction of the bathhouse, going elsewhere to give you both some privacy.

You walk into the steamy warm room as Geralt shuts the door, locking it as you start to unlace your top, "Y/N how do you know..."

"Ask me when I'm in the bath, then I'll indulge you for some of my hidden past....dealings." You interrupt with the flash of a smile before throwing off your top and bra. You face away from him as you kick off your boots, quickly shimmying out of your dark pants and undergarments as you stand stark naked by the heated pool.

Turning a quick glance behind you, your eyes catch Geralt's as his golden irises trail down your body, he looks away as an embarrassed grin makes its way onto his handsome face. You smile to yourself, turning to lower your tired vessel into the steaming waters. Sighing in pleasure at how the bath feels blessedly nice after many moons of going without a proper clean.

You close your eyes as your sit peacefully by the waters edge, a smirk playing at your lips as Geralt's muscular body gets in after you. You listen intently as he lets himself enjoy the warmth before some water swishes and he's pressed firmly against your side. An arm draped over your shoulder as his other one leans against the cool stony edge, you can just tell that he's taking you all in even as his mind swirls with questions.

"Y/N? What did you get into before you met me....or I guess what type of trouble? Although I do happen to recall your hatred for wizards and mages alike." Mutters your Witcher as he looks down at your relaxed form, your body but a nude distortion under the clear waters of the pool.

Humming in acknowledgment, you open a scarlet eye to look up at him as you give him a small smile, you can tell that if it wasn't for how curious he is at the moment, he'd without a doubt be turning you into a moaning mess by the waters edge within minutes, "I know Yennefer because...I....well I was a type of courier in Aretuza for many years." His dark brows furrow in thought, not sure what you're getting at so you continue, "The mage academy, I traveled there because I searched for the aid of the mages, you see, I had found a farm girl who was bitten by a werewolf and survived. Her father said he would pay me if I delivered her into their care, double if they cured her."

His hand trails tiny patterns against your arm, "And what did you do?"

"I was able to save her life, we had a week before the next full moon and a mage there had the needed remedy to reverse the lycanthropy. After that, I stayed with her there as she recovered from the whole ordeal...considering the process of taking away ones curse is a painful one." You explain as he laces a hand with your own, invested in your story with every new word coming from your lips, "In my time, I investigated the grounds...I was only two-hundred something then...I wanted to see everything. So I did, in doing so, and yes I'm aware this is going to sound quite unlike myself...but, I made a friend."

He hums, squeezing your arm gently in reply, "Her name was Tissaia de Vries, though that hardly matters now it's been so long, anyways....she appeared to like me well enough, I needed a place to cover myself from the rain, and coin to keep me alive and she knew what I was useful for. I basically became a raven, I would take precious letters, scrolls, or artifacts from Aretuza to wherever needed and vise versa. It was safer that way, no one would dare fuck with a dhampir of all travelers, and the ones who did promptly regretted it...and I got to live in the academy for free. It was perfect."

"When did you meet Yennefer?"

"Sometime after a good many years as a courier slash traveling body guard for high end royals who payed well, Tissaia had just brought her to Aretuza for the first time and while walking near her room I could smell the blood pouring out of her slashed wrists, the fool was trying to kill herself." He glances down at you, more intrigued then ever.

(Cue flashback)

"Check on piglet would you Y/N, I'll be gathering the girls for their first lesson shortly in the greenhouse. Make sure she's up." Says Tissaia as she writes something down on a piece of parchment with her quill.

Setting down some type of golden box onto one of her many counters you turn to her, "The little bird seems hardly mage material if I'm being honest....she's afraid, nervous, and ridiculously troubled...not to mention that hunched back of hers, poor things truly had it rough, now things only feel worse to her. You really know how to pick'em don't you?" You muse with a smirk as she continues to write, "Doesn't matter, everyone starts somewhere. I'll go find her, doubt she's decided to venture very far." You add before walking out the doorway and into the stony halls of the enchanted academy.

You pass by a couple mages here and there as you find your way to the novice's rooms in the lower section of the giant castle, you suddenly stop as you've successfully made it to her door. Not caring enough to knock, you swing it open as you find the sad hunchbacked girl, who's sniffling pathetically in her creaky bed, "Greetings little bird, how was your sleep?" Your voice is lively as you smile down in her direction while more dismal sniffles sound, a small half-frown graces your features as you cross your arms over your chest, "Can't say very well considering you've lost a good amount of blood, which I might add is not ideal for your first day of lessons or in general if we're being honest. You're seriously lucky I wasn't starving when I found you."

She sighs, "I don't want to do any lessons. Just leave me. You should have just let me die...at least I still had control over that." She whispers sadly, her back is still turned to you as you take another step closer.

Lightly chuckling, she turns to you, a harsh glare crossing her puffy features as you scoff, "That's hilarious. You really think that you had control? You didn't have shit little bird....you didn't have control, you were losing it." Her crooked face morphs into a frustrated glare as she thinks over your words, you simply shrug, "Now, you've survived and are very much alive whether you like it or not, it's close to the hour for your first lessons as a real mage in training, important shit for your kind. So get up little bird, it's time to fly."

She sniffles once more before giving you a downcast expression, "I can't."

Touching her shoulder in as comforting of a manner as you can muster you smile kindly down at her, "Listen, you can either let the world fuck you like a cheap whore, or you can become a dragon who does whatever the hell they please. Which is it my crooked friend? Who are you going to become?"

Slowly sitting up onto the edge of her bed, she rubs her nose, the tiniest bit of confidence flashing through her purple eyes, "A dragon." She whispers softly, a small spark of life coursing through her once again.

(End flashback)

"I had no idea, this whole time." Whispers Geralt.

You gently nudge his bare shoulder, "Yeah well you never exactly asked, and I didn't feel it important because it isn't or I guess wasn't....that is, until we happened to meet her this evening. Weirder circumstances have be felled us."

"That is true, its just, you were actual friends with mages." Says Geralt like its the most surprising thing in the world, "Now I understand how you knew Mousesack. I had always wondered about that."

"Hmm. Right, well you see and meet a lot of different people when you can't age. He's gotten greyer since the last time, Yennefer however, she still looks the same."

Geralt squeezes your hand, "And you, look even more radiant."

He looks down at you once more, the flash of something new and intriguing shinning bright in his golden eyes as they trail up and down your body. You smirk, pulling his arm from you as you position yourself in front of him, reaching your arms out to push his thighs apart. He eyes you up the whole time, hardness beginning to grow underneath the waters as you touch his shoulders, lining yourself up against him, ready to claim him completely, by just inches.

You softly kiss him, "Fuck me so that damn witch knows exactly who you belong to." His hands trail up to your sides as he pushes you down on his erect member, a low hum escaping your lips at the contact, his fullness pleasantly stretching your walls from within the steamy waters.

Geralt kisses you once more, another upon your neck as he smiles, "Such a compelling offer..." His words evade him as a moan leaves from his parted lips as you begin to ride him, the pools water swishing as you bounce. The next twenty minutes are spent fucking each other until you're one-hundred percent positive that Yennefer could hear every scream and thrust.

Just as you'd intended.

——

You stand at the foot of Jaskier's extravagant bed as Yennefer watches from the doorframe, Geralt near his side as the bard sleeps peacefully away his troubles and malevolent enchantment. Geralt looks on at him, a distraught expression crossing over his features as Yennefer asks if he doubts her capabilities. He grumbles a truthful no, as his only cause of worry is that if Jaskier never wakes up he'll feel terrible for the unkind words that were said to him before all this mess happened.

She smiles when he grumbles about her actual intentions, she simply walks past you over to her table of spices and herbs, but before she can get to it Geralt makes note of how the sign from the djinn's seal is marked upon the floor with candle wax. Her face falters as she realizes that she's been found out, you had figured something was up the moment you stepped into the room and saw it near the end of the large bed.

Leaning yourself against one of the bed posts, you listen as Geralt declares that he's going to take Jaskier now to prevent Yennefer from summoning the djinn, she smartly explains that if he does, then the spell won't take. So you're all essentially stuck until Jaskier is healed, whenever that may be. She turns to open a tiny bottle of oil on her stand, nonchalantly rubbing it into the skin of her wrist as she magically sets the summoning circle candles on fire, an enchanted burst of wind sending the drapes of the bed flying and flapping into the air, your hair as well.

This doesn't sit right with your Witcher at all, especially when she asks how many wishes he has made, Geralt doesn't give her a direct answer until he lets slip that Jask has only used two wishes. Her face perks up at this news, she gives you a mischievous wink before walking over to Geralt, who looks like something strange is happening to him.

You can smell the scent of lilac and gooseberries wafting throughout the room as she walks closer to him, "Tough to get in your head. You have a strong will, but you can't contend with me." You suddenly feel rather sleepy as Geralt looks down at her in anger, instead of helping him, you sit down on the bed and try your best to listen, "Sorry I couldn't be more direct, I knew you two would fight it. And I do love a good old-fashioned trap." She muses as your eyelids begins to grow heavy, a yawn leaving your mouth as you rest a hand against the soft inviting mattress.

So soft, so tired, how'd you get so sleepy?

Against everything in you that's screaming for you to stay awake to stop Yennefer, you feel utterly relaxed, so much so that instead of helping Geralt to stay conscious. You lay yourself on the giant bed, you blearily stare up at the dark wooden ceiling in false content, everything feels so warm and lovely. The room swirls and shifts as you tiredly close your crimson eyes, the sweet enchanting scent of lilac lulling you into a deep and blissful slumber.

Breathing in sharply, you stretch in the soft bed as your eyes finally open to the morning light pouring out from the two giant glass windows on either side of the bed. You're laying on your left side so as you focus better, you're surprised to find Jaskier laying on his back next to you. This is definitely not Geralt, so how did you get here?

Oh right, Yennefer.

Quickly sitting yourself up you look to the end of the bed where Yennefer is sitting, topless as she rubs something onto her bare abdomen. Your brows furrow as you stare at her back, "What the fuck are you doing?" You question, no heat really in your words, you're honestly more confused then anything at the moment.

Without looking at you she starts, "I need the djinn Y/N, this is how I intend to take it."

Sliding off of the side of the bed, you walk around so that you can lean against the wooden beam to see what she's getting at, "That's rather vague Yenn, but if I was to make an educated guess from my clever sleuthing, or just general understanding of how that clapping monkey of a brain works. I'd say you're trying to summon the fucker so your last wish may be for a child in your womb. Nice tattoo by the way, very original." You nod to the dark colored insignia on her lower abdomen in the shape of the female reproductive system, who would have guessed she was such as artist.

She glances at you for a second, anger slowly building in her chest, "How very clever indeed Y/N, even in old age does your mind stay as sharp as a tack." Her tone is bluntly sarcastic, but you stay unaltered by her jest.

You tilt your head at her, "Djinn's are finicky creatures, I wouldn't try and do exactly what I think you're going to do."

"And what is that?" She snaps, her eyes focused ahead.

Rolling your eyes you let out an irritated huff of air, "Become the djinn's physical vessel, its suicide...and you know it. Even the most powerful of mages cannot harness the true strength and imperium of the djinn, what would compel you to attempt this? What will having a child gain you, in this world of all places?"

She doesn't have time to answer as Jaskier suddenly wakes up with a start, he pushes himself up into a sitting position as he squints from the bright light of the room, "Oh, uh...where am I?" His eyes quickly land on the bare back of Yennefer since he can't see you from behind the thick pulled back curtain, "Whew! Uh...Right. Good. Good. Uh...Not to be untoward or anything...but, did we...you know, do the uh..." She slowly covers her bare torso and chest with her thin golden white top as she turns around to face him and crawl upon the bed, "Ooh, Go...Oh, no! No! Definitely did not butter that biscuit." Rushes Jaskier as he scrambles to get off, you watch as he shuffles past you, his eyes going wide in puzzlement, "Oh hello there Y/N, nice morning huh....oh shit, uh...look lady I'm so sorry, but I've just remembered I left my...cat, on the, stove."

He walks backwards as Yennefer continues her stalk towards him, "I...I uh, we really must going, isn't that right Y/N!" He exclaims as he quickly bends down to put on his shoes. You're not entirely sure how to handle this situation if you're being totally honest, you're not exactly one to stop people from living their dreams, especially if it's Yennefer doing something stupid and you also rather enjoy watching Jaskier piss himself.

Her eyes darken, "Express your deepest desires and you can be on your way." She asserts as her hand picks up a knife from her drawer.

"Well, my deepest desires are currently satisfied, thank you so much." Sputters Jaskier as Yennefer uses her power to slam him against the nearby wall.

"Is this really necessary?" You remark as she focuses on the bard.

"Yes." Is all that comes forth from her lips as she goes to threaten Jaskier, "How's your throat?"

"Uh.." Jaskier gives you a nervous glance before snapping back to the approaching mage.

Smiling wickedly she takes another step closer, "Perhaps you should try some scales."

Jaskier flinches back as the mage grabs a hold of him, "Uh...Toss a coin to your Witcher. O, valley of...penis. Oh, God." He stammers as Yenn grabs his junk in one hand and presses a knife against his throat in the other.

"If you want to keep all you have...make a damn wish." She threatens with malice, Jaskier breathing heavily in fear, he doesn't say anything as he throws pleading eyes your way. Scoffing she lets go of him and instead walks over to kneel down at the circle of burning candles, "Make a damn wish! Do it now!" Shouts the insane witch, an enchanted breeze finding its way into the room even with lack of opened windows.

Jaskier slides down the wall as he looks to you who only shrugs in reply, this is his problem now. He shifts his attention back to the mage, "I don't...I don't know! I wish very badly to leave this place forever!" Cries Jaskier as Yennefer gasps, her breathing going deeper as she begins to chant something in Eldar. The room instantly fills with winds, papers flying across the room at the intrusion.

Holding tightly onto the shaking wooden beam of the bed you glance from Jaskier to Yennefer, "You're fucking crazy Yennefer! This is madness!" She all but ignores you, her chanting getting louder and louder as the magical winds send your hair flying in all directions, "Fuck. Jaskier get out of here while you can, the djinn is close I can feel it!" You scream above the noise, he quickly nods before jumping to his feet and racing out the opened door.

You turn a worried face to Yennefer, "I'm not sure about you but, lets not invite a fucking genie into this place! You don't even own it! And stop speaking Eldar before this dark fucker possesses you!" She doesn't even give you a glance, as right on cue does the black wispy shadow of the djinn seep into the room and hastily flow into her body.

Your eyes go wide at the abrupt turn of events, "Fine. I'll save you myself, fucking mages." You mutter before taking a step forward, in an instant her eyes shoot open to reveal a sickly pink covering the entirety of her whole eyeball, she shoots up a hand and before you have a chance to do anything. Your whole body is thrown back into the hard glass window and straight out into the misty morning air as you free fall towards the grassy courtyard below.

Taken off guard but anticipating the nearing ground, you quickly stop yourself and levitate mere inches from the earth. You lower your feet onto the grass, an annoyed sigh leaving your lips as you pick some glass shards out of your arms and pant legs. You stand in the morning light beginning to rethink your life choices when pained screams are heard from up above, it's Yennefer, she's screaming at Geralt to make a wish so she can finally have all the power. Clearly things are not going well by any means, so instead of leaving her to an inevitable demise like how you'd planned, you fly back up to the broken window and right into the windy chaotic mess of a room.

A pillow nearly misses your head when you arrive just as the djinn screams for Geralt to use his wish on anything that he so desires. You jog over to the circle of candles as his golden eyes find yours, "Just make a fucking wish!" You shout before the djinn compels Yennefer to throw you against the far wall in an act of mindless rage. You're back hits the wood first, your head cracking against it with a thud, ouch.

You fall to the messy floor in a daze, a single trickle of blood falling down the side of your temple as you stand to slowly regain your bearings once again. Although when you look up, it appears that Geralt has spoken his last wish, the wind has dissipated and Yennefer seems to have come around to her mostly normal self.

Breathing heavily from her spot on the floor she turns to you, "Is it over?" She whispers tiredly, "Is it done?"

Sensing movement from the attic you zero in on the noise, "Oh fuck it's still here!" You bellow before the ceiling crumbles and cracks open, wood, stone, metal and whatever else bursting through as the djinn destroys the roof. Your eyes go wide as a large piece of wood breaks away, heading straight for Yennefer, more chunks racing down for Geralt as well.

In a blur you're able to save them both from a suddenly violent death as you rest them against the floor away from the destructive mess happening near the bed and windows. Geralt sits up and scoots back as you rest your old friend upon a soft red and gold pillow, she's asleep from the quick rushed movement you'd just subjected her to. You're going to have to remember that not everyone is very fond of whiplash.

Leaning over her, you lightly shake her arm, "Yennefer. It's me, Y/N. Wake up idiot." Her lavender irises slowly flicker open as you sit back, a sigh of relief leaving your parted lips as you turn to make sure Geralt's alright. He's already asleep on another large blue pillow, so much for the mighty Witcher.

"Wha...what?" She mumbles softly before her eyes open wider in realization, "Y/N why did you stop me! I nearly had it, I was so close and you ruined it, why di..."

Your brows furrow in confusion at her needless outburst, "You had shit, I saved your life! You ungrateful..."

"Oh, well I saved that fucking bard's life and your precious Witcher's...but now he's let the djinn escape! Who knows what havoc it'll wreak now that it has no vessel at all?" She fumes, glaring at you angrily.

Rolling your scarlet eyes at her frustration, you sit down on the carpeted floor, "No more havoc then you. Djinns are only dark creatures when held captive."

"How can you be so sure?" She snaps.

You raise an eyebrow at her, "When did you last feel happy when you felt trapped? And besides, if you were going to portal us to safety, you could have taken us out of this shit town!"

Yennefer huffs in annoyance, "A fine critique if you could make a portal yourself. Or better yet, turn into a giant bat and fly us away from here...and it wasn't a shit town, it was fine till you and your two incompetent imbeciles came along. I had a plan!" She exclaims pointedly as you begin to chuckle.

Her glare hard pressed as you smirk, "And that was going rather swimmingly!"

"It was!" Snaps Yennefer, "Like a drowning fish." She looks to you with angry eyes, her fire slowly brimming as a smile breaks out onto her face.

"More like a dead and dry one." You muse with a laugh as you frown, "oh gods look at us, how'd we ever get here huh....from Aretuza to the destroyed aftermath of a fucking djinn."

Her face falters for a moment as she thinks over your words, "Who can say? Bad choices perhaps, maybe we do it to ourselves for the fun of it."

"Maybe you're just a thrill seeker." She gives you a half offended glare as you simply stick your tongue out at her, "But we've survived nonetheless, I'll take that as a promising sign for the time being."

"I guess that means something then." She looks down to her hands, a downcast expression crossing her sweaty features, "I am glad to have seen you again in all honesty, it's just been a very long while since I've seen anyone familiar." Admits the violet eyed mage.

You shrug, "Or tolerable?"

"Yes, or tolerable. My life at court was...almost all for naught, I feel like I didn't do anything worth my time there....even got a knife through my shoulder when the Queen I was accompanying was killed by an assassin. I was done." She explains with a frown, you can tell something else about it bothers her, but you'd rather not press your curiosity.

"The things I miss when I'm elsewhere. Who needs a life at court anyway...I on the other hand was never meant to rule a castle. Perhaps it's a good thing my mother won't ever age, or die. And I have my freedom to roam the Continent as I please, a free woman bound by nothing but what I choose, and so I have." She gives you a downcast smile.

"I almost envy you Y/N. Truly. Now if only I could know what your Witcher happened to have wished for, but I'd rather not wake him. He almost looks peaceful in a sleeping bear kind of way." She adds while looking behind you at a snoozing Geralt, his chest slowly rising and falling with each soft breath.

You turn a loving gaze upon him, "Guess he does, doesn't he? Like a grimy sweaty mess of a man...my big grumpy bear." You muse, your eyes studying his face lovingly as a sudden idea comes to mind, you turn back to Yennefer with a mischievous smirk, "You know what, the bards recently single..."

Her face is almost a grimace as she shakes her head, "I'll take my chances elsewhere. But thank you Y/N, always watching out for me, usually pretty shit advice most often." She jests while rising to her feet, "I must be off before the town comes for my head, see you around...hopefully under better circumstances and with less destructive endings." You stand to your full height, a couple inches taller then Yennefer.

You both lean in for a parting hug, "Goodbye, Yennefer." Letting go of one another she hands you a small smile, "Try not to get killed Y/N."

"You. Try not to get involved with, well, you know." She nods before turning around and opening up a portal to some sunny ocean side market, you watch as she walks through it without another word, and off into the unknown she goes.

Yawning and feeling slightly off put from the whole ordeal, you turn to look over at Geralt, he's still out cold on the giant fluffy blue pillow. You smile adoringly at him before scooting yourself over, finally letting yourself rest near his peacefully sleeping form as you wait patiently for him to wake.

-

Tagged:  @notahappytree​ @ashleyforeverareject​ @sokkasdarling​ @kmuir1​​@haleypearce @diegos-butt​ (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work)

[maleksrami]

snippet sunday

hello i’m nervous cuz i don’t really share snippets of my wip since i like to be secretive BUT @mediawhorefics tagged me to do this and i’m feeling generous tonight! also i’m kinda struggling lately and wouldn’t mind some motivation lol. maybe i’ll delete this later idk

anyways here’s a snippet from a chapter i finished a while ago. i chose a moment that was tender, but still vague and doesn’t give too much away ;) enjoy! 

not sure who to tag, so if you see this and you’re working on something...tag you’re it 💞

Louis stops outside the door and leans back against the side of the building, drawing Harry into him and wrapping his arms around his neck. Harry folds himself into Louis’ hug, caging him in and wanting nothing more than to feel smaller under the size and weight of this farewell. He shuts his eyes and bows his head down into the crook of Louis’ neck—his safe place—and lets himself feel every inch of where their bodies are touching. 

They stand there for God knows how long, just holding each other. Louis cradles the back of Harry’s head, runs his fingers through his hair for what feels like ages, the movements not slowing until Harry realizes Louis has started to doze off standing up. Harry can’t help himself anymore. He lifts his head, cups Louis’ face in his hand, and doesn’t give himself time to think before he starts dotting gentle kisses all over it. His lips press over Louis’ closed eyes, the crease between his brows, the constellation of freckles on his cheekbone, his chin, nose, and jaw. 

The sun is higher now, light starting to pour through the two buildings they’re so comfortably nestled between, a grim reminder that Harry’s time is up. He grapples with the idea that he, too, must go through phases with the moon of feeling empty, empty, empty until suddenly he’s full, full, full. So, he kisses and kisses and kisses. Chases the high of an overflowing soul. Enough to last him for a while after he goes.

Louis hums, languid and drowsily. “Feels nice,” he mumbles. His eyes stay closed, like he thinks he’s dreaming. “You kissing me.”

Harry responds by trailing his hand down the side of his neck and pressing his lips a little firmer, repeating the scattered pattern of pecks across his skin. He tries to recreate the feeling Louis had given him when he’d done the same to Harry that night in the meadow behind this very building, only he hopes Louis doesn’t cry like he’d been doing at the time. 

“Why won’t you kiss my mouth?” Louis asks quietly after several dozen kisses have been placed everywhere but there. 

“It’s too late now. I wouldn’t survive. I’d never leave,” Harry breathes, dragging his lips down past the corner of Louis’ mouth.

“That’s why you should.” He’s so pliant, Harry can’t tell if Louis even knows what he’s saying. 

“I can’t. I can’t, Louis. Please don’t ask me to,” he begs. 

Louis’ face crumbles the tiniest bit, then he whispers the most gut-wrenching thing. “We waited too long.”

It’s too fucking much. Harry presses their foreheads together and they stand even longer that way. Eventually, Louis’ heavy eyes peel open and Harry’s hit with blue. He drinks the colour in, savoring every last fleck of sea green within them. There isn’t much left to say and Harry doesn’t have much time, so he forces himself to step back. 

“Go on, then,” Harry says. “Get some sleep, angel.”

Louis yields, nodding and pushing himself off the wall. The definitiveness of it causes Harry’s eyes to start stinging because Louis seems strangely unbothered all of a sudden. He doesn’t know whether to chalk that up to Louis being close to passing out or if he’s just a really good actor trying not to fall apart until they’ve parted ways, but still… it hurts. 

“Write to me as soon as you can,” Louis repeats, hand braced on the doorknob.

Harry nods fervently. “I promise. Tell your family I said goodbye for me, will you?”

“I will.” Louis pulls the door open, shuffles inside, and looks over his shoulder one last time. “Take care of yourself, my liege.”

There’s something odd, something coy about the sleepy smile he catches a glimpse of on Louis’ face before he closes the door behind him and Harry isn’t sure why it unsettles him so much.

[adam-venture-rewrite]

The Library (Chapter One)

First chapter is done! WOOOOOOO. So some things, 1. Please let me know if anything is historically or religiously inaccurate I am learning as I go. 2. This is like my first real project when it comes to writing so be aware, I am a bit rusty. Anyway, enjoy!!

Adeline Venture under the cut:

Adeline’s father has always been the most popular. Having grand adventure’s, staying true to the name. Although as of late his expeditions are within the books of the museum he bought. His fame didn’t disappear, and when people see her, it’s always “Old Venture’s daughter”. So when Adeline has to come to the museum for whatever he plans, she ends up falling asleep.

Passes the time to imagine if she could be that big. Adeline Venture, the greatest explorer in the world. She surpasses her father’s expectations. There would be millions surrounding her, asking her of her great expedition, what she saw, what she had to face. Adeline would smile, wink at some big fans and say, “It was simple really, anyone could do it. But not everyone is Adeline Venture”. Then the dream ends when she feels herself shaken awake.

“Adeline, why is it when you come see me, that’s when you decide it’s time for a nap? Does your old man bore you that much?” Her father said, standing to his full height, he wasn’t too much taller then she was, especially when he was entering his late fifties. His brown hair speckled with grey, eyes needing glasses to read the small books he poured himself over everyday, a cane for support. Whether from some great adventure mishap, or from his body finally catching up to him.

“Of course not, just what you were saying did” Adeline sat up in her chair and groaned, her back aching from the curled position she was in. Watching her father shake his head and sit behind his large desk. The firelight casting shadows across the large office. Adeline never understood her father’s obsession with building a museum attached to an old church. Something about preserving history, he was always obsessed with the bible, the thought of a beautiful garden full of life, and the tree of impossibility. Adeline didn’t see anything special about a couple of old bricks.

“Well Adeline, I shall not bore you with Eden. I asked you here for a reason, seeing as you are too busy doing whatever you’re up to, I got myself an assistant.” Adeline stood up at that. For as long as she knew, once Adeline grew to a certain age, she was the one caring for her father. He didn’t exactly have anyone besides her, so hearing him actively hire someone to be there, is a shock. “Now before you go rambling about how you can take care of me, you are still young and deserve your own adventures, your old man cannot be that for you.” Adeline just nodded, deep down she knew he was right. Her father had always supported her wanting to be just like him, even warning her that she would have to fight harder than him, that the world wouldn’t take too kindly to a smart woman making a large name for herself.

“So. Where is this assistant, I want to meet her before just leaving her with my father.” Adeline crossed her arms, huffing a bit. Her father just smiled, before clearing his throat.

“She’ll be in the library, I made her go look for some books on Eden and Genesis while we waited until you woke up. Go fetch her will you?” Her father looked back down to his notes, not wanting to hear any excuse from the brunette. A small groan escaped Adeline before she headed to the library.  Making her way down the halls of her childhood, between the old brick of the church to the new of the beautiful museum her gathering created. She remembered running down these halls, pretending to swing like her father did with his grappling hook. A great painting of him and that hook, swinging across a great height, framed and on display when you first walked through the doors of the museum.

Entering the large double doors of the library, the familiar dull scent of paper and dust filled Adeline’s nose, she used to love the library, reading all the fantastical stories that littered the shelves, but soon she longed to be the protagonist on the pages facing those struggles.

“You must be Miss Venture” a woman’s voice rang out, making Adeline jump slightly at the quiet being broken. There to her left, a couple of books within her arms, was a pale haired woman, round glasses propped up on her nose. A curious look on her face.

“Miss Venture? Make me sound old, why don’t you. Adeline is fine, Venture is my father’s thing…” She sighed, she’s normally used to this formality, it’s just odd from someone the same age as her. “And your name?”

“Evelyn O’Connell, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Seeing as you were a bit preoccupied when I first arrived.” Evelyn quipped, looking towards the painting that depicted a large temple. Adeline gave her a tight lipped smile, she definitely had some attitude. “I gathered the books your father requested.” She turned, showing the three books she carried, Adeline put her hand out, wanting to look at what she had. Hesitantly she handed the books over, watching over the shorter girl's shoulder as she looked amongst the small stack.

Paradise Lost, The Spiritual Use of an Orchard Or Garden of Fruit Trees and The Hidden Garden. Adeline looked up towards Evelyn, seeing her attempting to read her face, she smiled a bit. “Well… Miss O’Connell, you can eliminate Paradise Lost is not biblically accurate, so if my father is looking for the real thing. Shouldn’t start with fairytales” the young Venture stated, with a forced smile. Evelyn grabbed the book from Adeline’s hand and scoffed.

“The Garden of Eden is a fairytale, there has yet to be any actual proof it exists. So searching through fairy tales might be a start” Evelyn took the other two from her hands, adjusting her glasses and taking a deep breath. “Arthur hired me because of my experience, if he wanted your opinion, he would have asked you.” She looked Adeline up and down. Adeline was shorter than her, as well as bigger, not by much, but enough that she could compare to a physically well man. The brunette seemed to have thrown together her appearance, new bandages applied to her face, as if she just recently got into a scrap.

Adeline looked taken aback, not expecting the sass coming from a simple librarian. No time was given for Adeline to counter the verbal attack, as Evelyn turned on her heel and began to head to Arthur Venture’s office. Adeline quickly followed. Catching up to the taller woman, Adeline took in the small scowl on her face, how her eyebrows were furrowed and her lips were pressed together.

“Evelyn, Adeline. Glad to see you’ve met! Did you get the books I requested dear?” Adeline’s father said, standing from his desk and taking off his glasses. And taking the books from a now smiling Evelyn. Adeline watched as they began to discuss what exactly he was looking for. “As we know, Eden was long forgotten, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.” Arthur said to his daughter, watching as she slumped into a chair, listening to her father. “So, we go to texts about tales of people seeing things like Eden. The church we built out from is supposed to be one of the most ancient religious sites. If I have any faith in finding it, it’s within these walls.” Evelyn scoured one of the books, seemingly hearing this speech before. As she went she would bookmark different pages, writing down on a piece of paper her possible findings or notes on what was on that page.

Adeline eyes had wandered to the painting above the fireplace. Trees with long branches that look like long hair, sweeping against the grass. Two water falls behind the largest of trees. Their bark made of gold, leaves almost a marble colour. From one tree hung bright red apples, gleaming in the bright light, and the other hung almost gold pears. For the longest time the painting had hung above the fireplace. It had been there when Arthur Venture had bought the church, another item Adeline’s father kept because of the history behind it. The gold frame darkened with time and the lack of care. The engraving of “The Leap of Faith” on the bottom of the frame is barely readable through the darkness that is pressed against the letters.

“Mr. Venture, this page within Hidden Gardens.” Evelyn’s voice spoke up, making Adeline’s head turn towards her. Watching as Arthur moved towards the young woman to see what she was pointing out. “It mentions a direct scene from the garden. Two trees made of gold and marble, one with red fruit and the other with gold. Three waterfalls-”

“Two.” Adeline corrected, there were only two in the painting, clearly depicting Eden. “Pardon?” Evelyn looked toward Adeline, confused about the correction. “There’s only two, why would there be a different amount in the painting then in the book?” Adeline said, getting up from the chair and pointing towards the painting. “Adeline, there have been many depictions of Eden, one thing missing isn't unusual.” Adeline’s father added, attempting to move on. Adeline huffed, she understood that. It’s just a small detail. How can it be mixed up so easily? Especially when the painting is exactly like the description. Adeline looked toward the painting, she couldn’t see the details in the low light of the room, so she reached up and attempted to take the painting down.

Removing it she blew the small amount of dust it collected, glancing up, through the corner of her eye, the wall above the mantle was different. Instead of the flat surface, like a wall, there was a small indent, maybe as big as a small novel.

“Hey, is there supposed to be a box-sized hole in the wall?” Adeline asked, still looking at the indent. Arthur moved around Evelyn to stand next to his daughter. It was peculiar, as long as he could remember the painting hung there. He never removed it as it was one of the things that pushed him to find the garden. “How odd?” the older Venture said, looking toward the painting in her hand, then towards Evelyn, the Hidden Gardens within her hands, the waterfall displayed on the cover. A smile crossed his face, looking towards his daughter, bringing his hand to ruffle her hair, “Already so perceptive” He took the book from Evelyn’s hand, Adeline, still a bit confused, set the painting leaning against the seat she previously slept on. Standing behind her father as he set the book within the crevice. “Three waterfalls,” Arthur said, smiling at his daughter, only to watch the ground beneath her open, and for her to plummet.

[fallingwatcr]

starter for @civilities​ / charlie.

– SOMETIMES IT FEELS LIKE ADJUSTING TO CHANGE IS ACTUALLY THE CONSTANT FOR ANYA. spending the past year going with the flow when she's always been the sort of person who likes a plan, floating from place to place and only being able to HOPE that someone could catch her if she fell. anya never would have guessed that her next safety net would come from her estranged sister of all people, or a house gifted by parker brandt. still, if everything else has been consistently rearranged, charlie has been the one thing in her life that she could count on to stay the same. in however many different forms, he has always been there for her, whether it's to listen to her late night thoughts or the fleeting ones in the middle of the day. a constant. or, at least, that's what she'd thought – because maybe the idea of a constant doesn't truly exist, and anya’s spent the entirety of the summer break so far trying to work out whether the shift she'd felt around charlie was all in her head or genuine. thinking back to that night at the gala in may feels almost like a dream now, not something she can base her reality on. the anticipation of seeing charlie again in tactile reality has an intense hold on her, because she doesn't think there's any chance of working out how she feels until she does.

the entire day seems to drag on as anya waits for him to arrive, and as you can expect, the entire house smells like a bakery at this point – even from the outside. she’s in the kitchen, still in an apron when she hears a car door shut outside and she glances up at the clock. she could've sworn time was passing so slowly, was it even possible he was already there ? she's forced to disregard the fact that she looks a bit of a mess, when she heads out to the front stoop. there's something so strange and out of place about catching sight of charlie's red hair on the streets of the city where she grew up. he always seemed so far removed from her world in this way and it feels entirely new, like he’s stepping out in front of her in a new light – she can't stop the smile that spreads across her lips in this absolutely shameless sort of way. 

" you made it ! " anya calls with an element of surprised, probably more so attributed to the fact that it seemed like she'd been waiting so long that he never would. she rushes to greet him, but anya is not really accustomed to greeting people with the warmth that she feels for charlie. there's a moment of hesitation, her heart caught in her throat for a moment as she grapples with that anxiety before reminding herself that this is CHARLIE and there's no reason for it. fingers wring together nervously. " i want to hug you, but my apron is covered in flour and i forgot to take it off, so – understandable if you want to refrain, " she probably over-explains her greeting from the front step, unable to look anywhere else but him. there's actually so much she could say, and certainly so much they have to catch up on from the weeks that they've been apart but there's too much excitement in her heart to sort out one thought. later she will try to decipher whether that is because of the supposed shift or just the fact that he's her best friend and it's natural after not seeing each other for so long. still, there’s nothing natural about the fact that being this close to him again makes her feel like a match waiting for a strike. " and hi, " she remembers to add, punctuated with laughter. something rings out from inside the house and her eyes widen, finally breaking her gaze to glance back toward the kitchen, " oh, wait – the oven ! "

[nastyburger]

Okay but how did the first meeting tm go between all of the dannyverse tm. Did danny b just show up at danny’s school and go ‘hey im the new sub’? Did dex try and go home for a hot sec? Did SAM try and go home/ to tucker’s place? Did tucker try and go to his house/ danny’s place?? I have questions

the initial meeting period, which i like to call “the search” takes place over like two days, each character having having a different amount of time they spent in the canon universe in reference to “the portal surge” as we’ll call it

(this ended up being really long so im putting it under a read more for everyones sake lol)

dex pops in at the same time as the surge, so hes really been in the canon dimension for like 30? 40 minutes tops? until he finds the trio. he knows immediately hes not in his home (his amity is a lot more advanced with tech) and distinctly remembers being sucked into some sort of portal, so being the smart cookie he is reasonably infers parallel universe and sets out to find answers. he flies around in his mech (invisibly) until he hones in on an ecto signature clearly reading halfa in a crowd. whether its vlad or someone else, dex figures that a halfa was probably his best bet for help so he puts on his hoodie with hood up and slips into the crowd. (the mech is close behind but remains hidden and follows dex around until its needed)

he actually initially bumps into danny by mistake while searching (”oops sorry” / ”sorry, its fine i wasnt looking”) before taking a double take and going “wait that dude has my face??? hold on is he the halfa signature im tracking???” and runs after them. he catches up after they leave the crowd and are in a less populated area and grabs danny’s arm, startling everyone, and essentially going “wait, you’re a halfa right? possibly named danny fenton??” which effectively sends everyone into panic mode until dex pulls his hood down to show he has danny’s exact face and says “can you please help me???”. this panic morphs into full blown freak out.

they eventually calm down though, and set to sort this out. this was around late afternoon.

danny b was launched into a few days before the surge, and was actually dropped a little outside of amity. at first he thought he had been sent into the past, but seeing a news story in a tv store display and seeing a 14 year old danny phantom with white hair and green eyes effectively shuts down his idea. basically has a john mulaney “adult life as a half ghost is already so weird, this might as well happen” moment in a parking lot and moves on trying to find this alt version of himself for help on how to get home.

it was a little tough for him in those few days, he doesnt carry cash and his bank account for his debit wouldnt exist, so he went hungry for a bit (probably used his ghost powers to steal some food when he got desperate) and slept on a couple park benches and all that. its a little sad really.

eventually, after days of wandering around, his ghost sense goes off as he passes a park and sees a group of 4 kids huddled together. its starting to get a little dark out by this point. danny b approaches the gang movie peter b style: from behind, somewhat ominously with his hand outstretch, with the declaration of “hey, kids....” and dex stranger danger panics and electrocutes him with his robot arm. he passes out.

the kids assess the situation, dex being able to read that danny b is a halfa (”how many of you guys is there supposed to be in this universe?” / ”only vlad and me as far as i know.”) and tucker pointing out that he kinda looks like danny if you imagine the hair black (”great, its ANOTHER version of danny like we dont have enough of those”). afterwards, they take everyone to fenton works, canon trio through the door and dex easily sneaking in with unconscious DB.

once danny b wakes up (in his childhood room nonetheless which is a little disorienting), he immediately takes refuge in canon danny’s shower, also taking the time to shave and eat whatevers in the fridge. the trio are a bit weirded out by this older danny, especially when hes on his 4th pudding cup and eating it like a rabid animal (”do NOT judge me its been a hard few days”). but they more or less get used to him, especially when he proves to be a pretty cool guy. once DB’s basic necessities were taken care of, they start to form a plan of action.

the first step they decide on is finding any other stranded interdimensional people. lucky for them, dex locks in on 2 other halfa signatures in the general area. they set out to search the next day.

mourner and ghouly are found almost simultaneously. dex tracks them down immediately and determines that one is flying through the air as a ghost and the other is in human form on the ground. the group splits up with danny looking for the full ghost, db partnered with sam to sniff out the human form one, and tucker staying with dex in the mech (everyone communicating through fenton phones).

danny finds mourner (”i think i found.....a sam? as a ghost?”) and needless to say that first encounter doesnt go well. mourner popped up a couple hours after the surge while it was nighttime, so she spent most of the night flying around trying to figure stuff out but not garnering a lot of information with the world asleep. seeing danny just makes her instantly hostile thinking its another weird ghost trick so she starts blasting and they duke it out for a bit. she really only stops until dex and tucker show up in the mech and reveal themselves does she realize “okay different versions of people i know, this is weird but its not a ghost manipulating me by puppeteering my dead friend around i guess”. she calms down and joins the group.

ghouly is easily the smoothest encounter, the gang has gone through this enough already to not freak out over it. most reaction would probably be mild amazement and typical confusion (”oh wow its a goth sam and........an older danny? with red hair?” / “we found a different version of tucker, i guess he’s a halfa”) ghouly just doesnt have as much reason to panic as much here. he got launched into this dimension at the same time as dex (the moment the surge happen) but was more or less lost and wandering around since his gps and technology didnt seem to have signal. he didnt sleep overnight so he’s running a bit on empty but bought an energy drink and sandwich earlier that morning (he carries cash) so he hasnt gone full homeless mode like danny b did.

while his initial reaction/meet up with the others were definitely the least weird and confusing, ghouly probably does stare at canon danny a little too much to the point where its a bit awkward. (”sorry its just so weird not seeing you wear black and also i still find you really cute and grappling with whether or not this is considered cheating if youre like the same person”)

[thewatermelloncat]

Save Me from Sleep

Summary: Five hasn’t been sleeping well so his siblings give him sleeping pills to get him through the night. Only to realise what a mistake that had been.

Author’s Note: First time really trying something angsty, let me know how I did.

Warnings: Inferred panic attack

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

Klaus awoke to a scream piercing the air. Rocketing off the base of his mattress he sits up clutching his head in his hands. The sound so fresh in his mind that it may as well be ricocheting off his walls.

Nightmares weren’t uncommon for him, pretty much a nightly occurrence more often than not. His brain torturing him with flashbacks of the war and the mausoleum from when he was a child. Though he can’t remember what he had been shown tonight.

Normally they were fresh in his mind for hours afterward, so much so that he sometimes can’t sleep for the rest of the night. So, to say the least he finds it perplexing – and holy shit, the scream wasn’t his!

He gasps as he comes to the realisation seconds before another scream rips through the walls of the mansion. Raising his head from his hands, his eyes find Ben sitting in his usual chair across the room wearing a fearful expression. Neither of them says anything as Klaus stumbles out of bed, almost tripping with his feet snagged in his sheets, before they shoot off down the hallway.

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It was late, when Vanya packed away her music sheets in favour of turning into bed. She knew it was probably sometime past midnight and that she had pushed her luck against getting a proper night’s sleep. But she could regret it in the morning – there wasn’t much opportunity for her to practice alone anymore since she had moved back in with her family.

Lightly balanced on the balls of her feet, she was tiptoeing down the hallway when a scream tore through the air. She barely froze a second before she spun around and retraced her steps to where the scream sounded from behind her.

Part of her had hoped to see Five awake in his bed as she bursts through his doorway. Though her hopes are not met as she sees him tangled in his sheets, a thin layer of sweat glistening over his pale skin. Her heart sinks as she steps towards him and he screams again.

Not a usual scream of fear like one from getting a simple fright, but one of anguish laced with sorrow. A scream that sounds painful as it tears through his throat and out into open air. Seeming to linger on afterwards.

“Five, wake up!” she commands as she closes the gap between them, grappling a hand onto his shoulder.

Without taking her hand off of him, she turns to look behind her as Klaus literally stumbles into the room with his long strides. Their eyes quickly connect in a knowing stare before Klaus manoeuvres around Vanya to kneel in front of the bed.

“Buddy, wake up!” he grabs Five’s hand in both of his own. Ben hopping up at the end of Five’s bed to perch by his feet, watching the situation intently with his hands clasped together.

“Five, please!” Vanya begs through gritted teeth, almost crying herself as she brushes away a tear from Five’s cheek.

The gentle touch of her hand seems to do the trick as Five freezes for a moment and then begins to stir. His eyes shifting frantically behind his eyelids before he opens them, his breathing turning into shaky gasps.

“Hey, hey Five. You’re here. You’re here” Klaus repeats soothingly, reaching one of his hands up to Five’s shoulder.

Vanya says nothing, in both not finding the words and not wanting to overwhelm him with multiple people speaking at once. But she places her hand back down to cup his jaw as he lies shaking on his mattress.

There would have been a few seconds of silence apart from Five’s frantic breathing, if they couldn’t hear footsteps moving around the hallways. No doubt their other siblings have been woken up.

“It’s the sleeping pills isn’t it?” Vanya chews her lip, not daring to look at Klaus.

For a painfully long time Klaus is silent before he turns to her. “What choice did we have? He wasn’t sleeping otherwise.”

“I don’t know, but this Klaus?” Vanya whispers to him, finally daring to look at him.

“Hey, none of us knew it would be this bad” Klaus speaks to her gently. “But he was going to have to sleep anyway, whether purposefully or not.”

Before Vanya can admit that he’s right, a set of footsteps stop in the doorway.

“Should we move him?” Luther asks as he leans with his arms crossed against the door frame, having read the situation quickly.

Klaus hums in approval before standing up with Vanya following his lead. He knows that Five needs to be in a new environment, at least just for the moment.

With his path to the bed clear, Luther steps forward to gather his trembling brother in his arms. He doesn’t need to clarify that he’ll take him to the lounge, knowing that his siblings will follow after him. And that is what they do; Ben hopping off the bed, Klaus grabbing a couple of pillows and Vanya pulling off a blanket before they follow their brother’s footsteps.

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The light in the lounge is already on when they make their way down the stairs. In the back of Klaus’ mind, he can hear Allison’s voice muffling with Diego’s, both of them having made their way down to set up camp beforehand. Though they are mostly blurred as he thinks to himself that one day this will be a moment he will look back on and wonder if it really happened. How could someone feel to alert but also like they are walking blindly through a dream, not quite believing it is happening?

On autopilot he pulls ahead of the small group to set the pillows he carries on the couch before Luther lowers Five down and Vanya wraps the blanket over his shoulders.

With their smallest brother settled, Vanya steps back over to Allison who she immediately starts whispering to. No doubt relaying what happened, with Diego eventually moving over to them.

“I don’t want to go back to sleep” Five’s quiet voice turns Klaus’ attention back to him.

“You’re going to have to, buddy” Klaus tells him gently, hating to be the bearer of bad news. “You’re so tired.”

There is no denying that he is, despite his racing heartrate, his eyes are lined so dark and so red that it looks painful to keep them open.

“I can’t” Five’s voice cracks as another tear rolls down his cheek.

Klaus says nothing as he kneels down, his siblings closing in behind him.

“Every time I close my eyes, I see you all dead.”

“We’re right here Five” Allison sounds choked up herself, hating to see her brother who appears to be the age of a child so broken. She knows it sounds stupid, but what else can you say?

Five quickly shakes his head with deeper breaths, barely holding himself back from sobbing. “Ben’s not. I couldn’t save him.”

Klaus swallows thickly and hangs his head. Neither could they.

In the back of his mind he hears Diego desperately affirm that it wasn’t Five’s fault, but Klaus knows his words will fall on empty ears.

“Tell him I’m here too” Ben’s voice draws Klaus’ eyes back up and over to where he perches at the end of the couch, ever observing.

Klaus nods to him before swiping his tongue over his lips. “He’s here too” Klaus looks into Five’s eyes before back over to Ben who gives him another sentence to repeat.

“He wants you to know that you might not be able to see him, but he’s here… That you can talk to him, he may not be able to answer, but he’ll be listening.”

Although it’s been years, and Klaus sees Ben almost every second of every day, he still swallows against a sob before he turns around to the rest of his siblings before repeating the last bit. “And he loves us all.”

Ben seems oddly pleased with himself as his last words seem to break his siblings, tears falling from every eye. Some not being bothered to be wiped away. Klaus offers him a sad smile with a roll of his eyes as if to say ‘well done’ – except sarcastically of course.

“Go back to sleep” Klaus speaks up after a little while, placing his hand on Five’s knee after seeing him fighting to keep his eyes open.

“I-I don’t want to” Five’s breath hitches as he begins to think of all the things he will be trapped with behind his closed eyes. Knowing if he closes them, they won’t open for a while.

Collectively the group lean forward as their brother is enveloped by panic, utterly helpless against the sleeping pills in his system. Losing the battle to his closing eyes with his metabolism working too slow to burn them off. The panicked gasping only serves to tire him out more, but it is a battle he was going to lose from the start.

“You need to sleep Five” Luther tells him, pushing him gently down into the couch.

Five allows himself to be moved, being oddly compliant, but his fearful breaths don’t stop.

“We’ll be right here with you” Allison promises him, her words leading them all to spread out around him on the couch.

Allison lifting Five’s shoulders so she can sit beneath them, letting him rest his head on her lap. Vanya and Luther pulling up chairs to either side of the couch. Klaus staying where his is but turning around to lean back against the couch as Diego comes to sit beside him. And Ben staying at the end of the couch, shifting his legs out from underneath him so he can tuck them to his chest, reaching a hand out to place on Five’s leg although he can’t feel it.

Despite his siblings around him, Five still fights to keep his eyes open. The endeavour made increasingly difficult with Allison absentmindedly running her fingers through his hair and the sounds of his siblings drifting off to sleep around him. Vanya tucking herself up into a ball on her chair, and below him, Diego leaning his lead back against his legs and Klaus reaching up to hold his hand as he waits for sleep to take him.

Eventually Allison’s hand slows as she drifts off, all of his siblings now asleep around him. With the promised kept of them staying, Five allows his eyes to slip closed and his chest to even out in steady breaths.

[hauntlikeaghost0]

drowning | d.m

summary: you are draco’s lifline.

warnings: little bit angsty but in a fluffy way

a/n: wrote this on my phone so ignore weird spacing but i think i really like it?? idk hehe

༒༒༒

draco’s life was falling apart. slipping and tumbling, crashing down around him faster and faster as time went by; and there was nothing he could do but watch. watch as the rubble buried all his friendships, all his confidence and innocence, all his happiness. and all he could do was prey and beg and just hope that people will forgive him when it was all over. hope and beg and prey that despite seeing his face on the opposite side, despite seeing him next to the people that tore down their home, they won’t see him as the enemy. they won’t see him as evil. but just the battered and broken boy that didn’t have a choice. the battered and broken boy that couldn’t lose anymore.

as he looks out over hogwarts from his place in the astronomy tower, he mulls this over. no, not mulls, he grapples, he obsesses. mind racing repeatedly over how hopelessly fucked his life is about to become. he wonders desperately how he could have possibly let it get this far, he wonders what would have happened if he’d had just said no. surely his parents would be dead now, possibly himself, maybe even you.

now, himself and his father, he could deal with, he could accept. karma’s a bitch and boy did the malfoy men know how to anger her. but his mother, she was the only person to ever make him believe in love, in care, in hope. she would do anything for him, despite him knowing he could live a hundred lives and never deserve that. and you, oh god you. the only person to ever make draco feel as though he was lovable, not worthy of love, as he is convinced he never will be, but somehow, by some sort of miracle, you loved him. you were stubborn as hell and drove him insane but, praise merlin, did you care for that boy so fiercely and so passionately that he almost believed you when you told him he was a gift. he had some bumps and bruises, some scars that would take time to heal but he was precious and beautiful. irreplaceable.

the school grounds were bathed in darkness, stars littering the deep navy sky, reflecting off the black lake as though it were a mirror and dancing around before draco’s eyes. despite the late hours, a few lights still remained, glowing warmly from scattered windows around the castle, inviting the boy to dive into their saftey. an invitation he ignored. although his entire life was constantly casted in shadows, draco still finds a strange comfort in the darkness. the idea of going unseen but still being able to see it all, and, he supposes, it’s just all he’s ever known. he finds darkness at home, darkness at school, darkness in his mind, even some darkness in you, as no one can truly avoid it.

he drags his cold hands over his face, pressing them into his eyelids and watching as patterns appear and swirl beneath the pressure. the only thing that calls his attention away is the familiar sound of your pattering footsteps, climbing the old creaking stairs behind him.

“draco?” you call out as you reach the final step, catching a glimpse of the instantly recognisable platinum hair, only made harder to ignore in the silvery moonlight.

“over here.” he replies, not moving from his position of gripping the metal railing. you instantly recognise the tension in his shoulders and the stiffness of his neck. his mind is elsewhere, lost in what if’s and worst case scenarios.

you take a deep breath, heart already breaking for the boy infront of you, begging yourself to keep it together for him. to be the solid shoulder for him to lean on while everything feels so unstable. “i see you” you breathe out and make your way closer.

you arrive at his side but his eyes stay fixated right ahead, so many emotions swirling in his icy blues that you wonder whether there’s anyone there at all. his hands still grasp the bar infront of him so tightly his knuckles are white and all you can think to do in that moment is lay your, slightly smaller, hopefully warmer, hand atop his.

“you are the best thing that ever happened to me.” you speak out, mirroring his position and fixing your eyes upon the silhouettes of two birds dancing and twirling across the ever darkening skyline. “you know that right?”

you feel him turn his attention towards you, vision locking intently on the side of your face as though trying to discern something so impossibly complicated.

meeting his eyes, you raise your brows. not in a teasing way, but almost so as to open up more of your face to him, to put on display all of your emotions for him to read, desperate for him to find complete sincerity. he only shakes his head.

“i don’t deserve you.” is all he says, eyes glassy but the ghost of a smile appearing on his lips.

rolling your eyes, you reply: “do you think i give a fuck about what people deserve?” there’s a playful tint in your voice, only barely disguising the complete seriousness. draco lets out a short laugh at this, turning to lean his elbow against the railing, finally allowing some lightness to return to his features.

“draco fucking malfoy,” you jab a finger into his chest, “if i could, i would hand you the world with three tiny finger holes in the top and let you use it a fucking bowling ball, me being each one of the ten pins. i would let you repeatedly crush me with the world, which you hold in your hands, because i feel that’s what you deserve.”

“now, i feel that’s a bit rash.” he says, gaze softening even further and a more solid grin making its way upon his face. there’s humor in his voice and it adds a warmth to the night.

“it’s not up for debate.” you snap back, keeping up your serious facade for another two beats until draco rolls his eyes, chuckling to himself quietly.

the sound of his laughter and the beautifully curved grin on his lips brings a sort of joy to you that you can’t quite understand. a sense of pride, not at the fact you managed to make him smile, but at the fact he still can, after all he’s been through. when that beautiful, damaged boys face lights up in the way it just had, everything feels right in the world, nothing can go wrong, nothing can harm you, because draco is happy, draco is happy. it may only be for a moment, a brief second in a lifetime, but it gives you hope, it makes you warm. and you did mean it when you said that boy deserves the world, he truly, truly does.

a silence settles between the two of you and your attention shifts back to those same two birds, now sat comfortably atop one of hogwarts many spires, pressed up against eachother, keeping eachother warm.

“can i have a hug?” a timid voice speaks up from beside you. it’s such a weak and frail sound from someone who appears so casually strong that your heart clenches in your chest, turning your attention towards the delicate boy to your left. you smile up at him as warmly as you possibly can and slowly place a hand on his pale cheek, dusting your thumb lightly over the soft skin and relishing in how it heats slightly beneath you touch.

you only nod in response, dropping both your hands over his shoulders and drawing him into you, so closely and so tightly, he wonders if you’ll ever let him go. he decided he definitely hopes not. instantly, draco is wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you just as securely and somehow managing to bring your body impossibly closer to his, hips and chests flush together. you feel the butterflies fly wildly in your stomach, a sensation not uncommon when being around draco, as he nuzzles his head into your neck, inhaling deeply and making goosebumps shoot up across your body at the feeling of his soft breath against your skin.

“you deserve the world, draco malfoy.” you breathe out softly, sincerity laced thickly in your words, begging for the damaged boy to hear it and willing for him to finally believe it.

draco only grips you tighter, no words escaping his lips but an almost silent sniffle coming from his place snuggled into your shoulder. again you feel your heart in your throat and, in order to fight back your own set of tears that are balancing so dangerously close to falling, you begin to move from side to side, swaying oh so gently like branches in the wind. you cling onto draco and he to you, realising what you’re doing and moving just the same. you place a hand softly on the back of his head, sliding your fingers into his hair and drawing a hum out from the back of his throat that makes your knees buckle slightly.

you continue to sway for a few more moments, draco grasping you like the lifeline he saw you as and you holding him tenderly, savouring the feeling of his closeness as though it were the last drop of oxygen you’d ever receive. he begins to sway you in a circle, turning the pair of you around until your back was against the cold metal railing. you flinch slightly at the feel of the icy iron through your thin bed shirt, followed by the loss of draco’s weight against your neck, however the coldness is soon replaced by a flooding warmth when your eyes lock on his. the amount of emotion seeping from them brings a lump to your throat. there’s still the ghost of the hopelessness that always resides in his steely blues but right now, as he stares and you so intensely, all that can be seen is love. suffocating and overwhelming, soft and beautiful, completely overflowing, powerful love.

it takes everything in you not to scream, yell from the astronomy tower that you could never be more happy because he fucking loves you and you fucking love him and everything’s shit but you’re both in love. so intensely and passionately, in love.

and then he opens his mouth and the words spill like silk from his lips, curving around your heart and tying a beautiful bow atop it. a name tag hanging from the ribbon reads his name and you are sure it will never say any other for as long as the pair of you live, and even then after:

“i don’t want the world, dear, i only want you.”

then the tears spill and his lips meet yours. there’s fire and passion behind the kiss that has him pinning you to the balcony, hands tights against your waist. fire and passion that has you curving into him, hands lost in his hair. but the tears dancing between both your hot lips brings a sorrow to the kiss that makes your heart clench, a neediness that comes only from a broken boy, clinging to you with lust and simultaneously hopeless desperation. draco nips on your bottom lip lightly causing you to gasp softly which he takes as permission to begin the dance between your tongue and his own. each time you go in for more he treats it as receiving another breath of life, the love you’re presenting him with, filling his lungs and quenching his thirst better than anything else ever could.

finally, you pull back, gasping for air and running your tongue over your lips, weirdly addicted to the taste of draco mingled with both of your bitter, salty tears. he does the same, signature smirk adorning his features before he gently leans his forehead against yours, dropping a kiss to your nose that makes you’re heart swell.

“i love you, (Y/N), endlessly.” he breathes out, hand coming up to run his index finger delicately along your bottom lip.

“i love you too draco, endlessly.”

and in that moment, draco smiles. really, truly earnestly, smiles.

his world may be crumbling around him, he may be drowning in the darkness that spills from every person and every crevice of his mind; but, right now, on this balcony, with you in his arms and him in yours, it’s not the moon or the stars that’s keeping the astronomy tower alight. it’s you. it’s you and the love that you allow him to feel, the love that, when he’s with you, seeps from his very bones, pouring out of him and drowning the both of you.

and what a beautiful way to die.

𝐹𝑖𝑛

[lunewell]

The Norwegian Mermaid Association - Part 2

Part 1 can be found here

Word Count: 1688 words

Written for MerMay

CW: Attempted Drowning

Can also be read on Wattpad

This is Part 2 of The Norwegian Mermaid Association, and follows Morten, who after his discovery of mermaids, goes to find a mermaid of his own.

For someone who’s entire world view had just been shattered, Morten was coping surprisingly well with it. It had been about a month since the mermaid incident, and only a brief breakdown later he was already alright.

Well, actually, more than alright. This discovery had awakened Mortens childhood love and curiosity of the supernatural, and he often found himself wandering through mossy forests or enthralled in the depths of the sea, wondering what was hidden around him. Some might consider it a problem, the way he seemed to find it harder and harder to focus on the fishing, more and more caught in the ripples of the waves, but Morten found it nothing short of delightful.

His co-workers, however, were not quite as happy as himself. They couldn’t bring themselves to be angry at him, as they had all at one point or another experienced the shock, but they were rather annoyed. Morten couldn’t blame them, not really. He was well aware of how much of a nuisance he was being right now.

Which is why, it came to him as little surprise, when Thomas approached him with an offer; “why don’t you take a little break from work?” he asked one day, leaning on the rail of the small fishing boat next to him, “you’ve been awfully distracted lately, and I think you need some time to think.”

Morten started into the waves, biting his lips. Truth be told, he didn’t want to leave the waves hiding so many secrets, even if he was slowly getting on everyone’s nerves. He twiddled his thumbs, stiff and quite tense. After a while had passed in silence, he heard a sigh next to him. “If it helps,” Thomas began, voice lowered, “you could always take a break at a more… tempting spot. There’s a mermaid hotspot not too far from here, it’s where we met our wives.”

Morten eyes lit up at that. He himself had little interest in the wife part, but even the idea that he would be able to communicate with one or the creatures was more than enticing. Thomas smirked, clearly having picked up on his excitement; “I’ll give you the directions when we get back to shore.”

———————————-

Though he considered himself rather mature, Morten was vibrating like a sugar-high child. The spruce trees around the large lake and river mouth stood tall and proud in the slightly overcast sky, and though he had yet to even see a singular mermaid, he could hear their chattering and laughing flowing through the wind.

Following the voices through soft grass and over sun-bleached rocks, it wasn’t long before he was but branches away from his desired destination. Quite literally, in fact, as the only thing obscuring the creatures was a few branches of an oak tree.

With a deep breath, he reached out to the soft leaves hanging off the solid tree, and pulled it to one side.

It was not the first time Morten saw mermaids, his breath still caught like rock in his throat. Spread all around the shore, there were five mermaids with brightly coloured tails in hues of purple, blue, red, and green that scales sparkled majestically, all having flowing hair and distinctly non-human traits that were so awe-inspiring that he couldn’t stop himself starring. They were joking playfully between themselves, an odd language that sounded reminiscent of an odd dialect of Old Norse.

One of them- the one with night-coloured curls and a spotty, grey, rainbow-hued tail, saw him gaping and gave a playful, but undoubtedly mischievous smile. She turned around to the group speaking rapidly, before hushed voices giggling, before all eyes and tails turned to him.

“Hello,” he whispered a bit unsure of himself, “I was wondering if you would be willing to, uh, tell me a little bit more about your species.”

Another round of looks were exchanged between the girls, before the spotty one looked up with a grin, and answered him not in Old Norse but in perfect Norwegian; “why, of course. Why don’t you come with us into the water, and we can discuss it in full…”

A feeling of fear, a gut deep feeling carved from years of reading about the spirits in the water, coursed through him. And yet, there was something in her voice- safe, trusting, melodic, and lulling like the waves, that made him instantly comply and step towards the high waves.

His feet stumbled closer, while his sub-conscious screamed that something was deeply wrong, and his heart began to race. It wasn’t long before he felt the first drop of water wet the tip of his shoes that he had been too unaware to take off, and it was an even shorter amount of time before he felt it spill over and onto his socks.

The shock of the icy water against his skin snapped him out of the trance just in time to see a series of sharp claws lunging out toward him. He tried to leap away, heart hammering, but ten hands had already grappled and dug deep into his skin, the water around him turning a light red, and submerged him underwater. His nostrils burned from the water as he wiggled desperately, lashing and thrashing hopelessly as the mermaids kept ripping his clothes and skin.

He was going to die here, in this watery grave, shredded by hostile mermaids. He could already see the vision blackening at the edges, and as a sharp claw gripped tightly around his throat, he closed his wet eyes and prayed that his death was not too far away.

Then, like a prayer answered, everything stopped.

For a good second, he’d thought he’d died. He no longer felt cold- in fact he was surprisingly warm, and though he was sore, he was surrounded by an odd sense of tranquility that could only be explained by a fading soul.

“Are you alright?” a soft, mellow voice asked gently, and Morten realised for the first time that the hammering around him was not the grasps of hands but his own, very alive, beating heart. He hesitantly pried his eyes open, fully expecting to stare at death. In all fairness, based on the way his heart leaped at the sight in front of him, it might as well have been death.

A blonde man- no- merman, with warm brown eyes which looked at him in a way that made his heart melt, had pushed him safely on the shore and was now cradling his body. Half the creatures cheat was covered by not scales, but inhuman skin that connected to a tail which he immediately recognised as one of a porpoise harbour.

He was the most beautiful thing Morten had ever seen.

“Sorry about them,” the stranger said, in a tone that sounded completely genuine, “not all of us respect your species, and I promise we’re not all like that.” He trailed off, giving another blinding smile that made Morten’s pulse go on cocaine, before finally reaching out a blue skinned hand; “I’m Kjell, and you my darling human are?”

“M-m- Morten,” he mumbled, mind still caught at darling human, “I uh, yeah. My name is Morten.”

“Morten. That’s a gorgeous name,” Kjell said with a little wink that’s sheer charisma could kill a man. “So, what brings someone like you out here?”

A pang of uncertainty hit him, unsure of whether to tell this merman- the same species that had violently attacked him earlier- the reasons for his visit. However, looking at the violent hues of caramel and chocolate in Kjell's eyes, he could see nothing but genuine curiosity and a playful and friendly twinkle.

Plus, he honestly didn’t know if he had the resilience to deny that face.

“I’m actually here to learn more about your kind and other potential folklore creatures,” Morten explained, “I only found out about the existence of otherworldly creatures- or, uh, people, I suppose, so there’s a lot I want to learn.”

He was rewarded for his honesty, by Kjell lighting up like a Bonfire. “Oh!” he exclaimed, grabbing Morten’s cold hands in his own warm ones, “you should have told me earlier! I love heaving humans about my culture, and I have an entire cave of artefacts and cultural items! It’s under the water- don’t worry, there’s air- and I could take you down if you want.”

Morten, far too occupied by his companions stupid grin and his warm hands, was about to reply the quickest yes of his life, before Kjell interrupted him with a gasp. “I’m sorry,” the merman apologised, letting go of his hands, “I completely forgot that my kind tried to drown you. You probably don’t want to go right back after such a traumatic experience, and certainly not with someone like…” he gestured to his tail, “me.”

A part of him- the one who had gone for the safe choice of a fisherman in a largely fish centered city- wanted to agree with Kjell, and forget this day ever happened. After all, even if he truly admired Kjell, they were both still men, and it was probably safest for the both of them if they just forgot meeting.

However, a much more selfish, and deep part of him already knew what he wanted. Meeting Kjell’s eyes- and with warm cheeks- he gave his answer; “please, take me down there. I trust you.”

That was all Kjell needed, before he dragged them both back into the water. Unlike the mermaids, Kjell was not so much gripping as holding him- tight enough to be led but loose enough as to be easy to escape, the fingers stroking up and down his wrist in a repetitive motion. And as they dived deeper, Kjell leading him along in what was almost a gentle waltz in the water, occasionally shooting a reassuring smile, Morten understood why all the seamen dated mermaids, and got the feeling that he might be seeing Kjell a whole lot more in the future.

[nightglider124]

RobStar Week 2020: Day 3

So, I actually liked writing this one. I think the reason I be hating on my oneshots so far is I’m in a weird emotional funk this week. Maybe it’s menstrual. Who knows these days. 

ANYWHO. This is set post-tokyo which I do so love because the children would be a lot more comfortable and chill with each other. I’m all for blushy kids but I do like writing them in an established relationship too.

I’m pretty sure I’ve written something with this kinda concept before but oh well XD.

This has yet to be properly proof-read but I’m sure it’s fine for now.

Hope you guys like it!

_________________

Tamaran

A gentle sound of knuckles rapping against her bedroom door is what dragged Starfire’s attention away from what she was doing, comfortably sat in the middle of her round bed with her legs crossed in a pretzel style.

She lifted her head, her long auburn hair cascading over her shoulder like a rouge waterfall. Her emerald orbs sparkled in the dying orange light of day, trickling through her large window, as it reflected off of the ocean below the tower. 

Smiling brightly, Starfire straightened up and set her task aside for the moment, “Yes?”

“It’s me.”

Her face lit up at the voice beyond her door which belonged to none other than Robin. She beamed and threaded her fingers together, “Come in!”

With that, he quietly opened the door and poked his head through the gap. Smiling softly, he traipsed the rest of the way inside her personal space and closed the door behind him. Robin strode closer, tilting his head in curiosity as he drew nearer,

“Hey.” He greeted, stooping down to where she was sitting to bestow a kiss to her cheek, “You’ve been in here for a while. Everything okay?” 

She nodded, making room for him to take a seat on the edge of her bed; an offer which he accepted almost immediately. 

“I am fine. I just wished for some of the ‘quiet time’ after our battle with Plasmus today.” She replied, blowing air between her lips in exhaustion,

Robin chuckled and bobbed his head in agreement, “Yeah… fights with Plasmus… they’re never good.”

“I just wish it was not so… messy every time.” 

He shrugged and winked in her direction, “Guess that’s what happens when you fight a giant jello looking thing.”

Starfire giggled and leaned forward so her chin rested atop of his shoulder, seeking some contact, no matter how small it was, “Are you alright?”

Robin leaned his head against hers, “Mhm. I just wanted to check in on you.” He paused and tilted his chin downward in an attempt to catch her gaze, “Oh… and I wanted to ask if you were maybe up for heading out soon? I thought we could grab dinner in the city?”

“With our friends or…?” She trailed off, teasingly,

He laughed and pretended to consider, “Hmm… as fun as that sounds, I was actually thinking of it being just the two of us for once.”

“Robin, are you asking me on a date?” Starfire asked in a mock tone of shock, as if such a thing was rare and unheard of.

He smirked and murmured against her cheek, “Mm… if you wanna label it… sure. It can be a date. Not sure how relevant it is though since you are my girlfriend.”

She hummed a happy note at that and pulled back, Robin half swiveling his body to watch her as she moved. He grinned at the way her eyes glinted with mischief and joy under the setting sunlight, basking her room in a summer glow. 

“Well, I would love to.” She said, her expression turning dreamlike,

“Good.” He returned, 

Starfire giggled and swung her legs over the side of her bed, getting up and wandering over to her vanity table, placed just beside her window.

She picked up her brush and quietly hummed to herself as she started dragging it through her locks, just to freshen up a little since they were venturing out to the city.

Robin exhaled noisily and flopped back on her bed, lacing his fingers together atop his chest, “So, what’re you in the mood for for dinner?”

“Umm… I am happy with anything.” Starfire answered, her tone nonchalant,

He grinned and turned his head towards her, “You know, it would be great if you would just choose something specific one of these times.”

Starfire smirked at him in the reflection of the mirror, “Robin, between the two of us, you are the more fussy when it is in relation to food. I will simply eat whatever is offered.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He drawled playfully, causing her to laugh. 

They dipped into a comfortable state of silence for a moment, with Starfire checking her appearance to ensure there was nothing that needed fixing before they left the tower.

“Hey Star?”

“Yes?”

“What’s this?”

Starfire froze and spun around, already aware of what he was referring to since she had accidentally left it in the middle of her bed.

Robin held a purple journal between his fingers and wore a curious look on his face as he gently waved it at her,

“Uh…” She stammered, suddenly feeling embarrassed by it,

He tilted his head and smiled calmly, “I’m assuming a diary?”

She slowly nodded, realizing her cheeks were probably as red as tomatoes. She made her way back to the bed, murmuring, “You are... not going to read it?”

He frowned and his brows knitted together, “Course not. It’s personal to you. I was just wondering, is all.”

Starfire twiddled her fingers before she let her shoulders drop and she let go of the ball of anxiety that had formed in her stomach.

She came and sat beside him, right on the edge of the bed and retrieved it. She held it in her hands for a long moment, contemplating whether or not to share what it actually was with Robin.

He placed a gentle hand on her thigh, followed by Robin inclining his head to look at her, “Star?”

“It is… not really a diary as such… it is a… book of memories.” She admitted, chewing on her lower lip,

“Oh?”

“I… it is truly very silly-” She deflected, waving her hand dismissively,

“You? Silly? Never.” Robin grinned, setting her at ease as best he could. He hoped that she knew he would never think that of something she held so dear and apparently cherished.

Starfire relaxed and smiled back at her boyfriend, before she took a breath and opened up the book to the middle pages.

Scooting closer to him, Starfire smiled shyly as Robin wrapped an arm loosely around her waist and peered over her shoulder at the journal.

“This is a book that I keep with things about Tamaran inside. There are recipes and festivals and memories… amongst many other things…” She told him quietly, allowing him to carefully turn the pages and scan all of her entries.

The paper was thin but well used, with recipe instructions for ‘galseltoff’ and ‘zorkaberry hutsenfal’ amidst others, written in violet cursive across numerous pages.

Festivals of all kinds littered several pages, explaining when they took place and what they paid tribute to. 

Traditions and values of Tamaranean culture were scribbled down in blue ink, with some facts about Tamaraean history circled in the corners of the pages; like little reminders.

There was a page with battle and fighting techniques that were native to Tamaran, along with weapon types and uses. 

When he flipped another page, there was a whole list of Tamaranean words and phrases, with a few of them matched with the English equivalent, which Robin took particular interest in since he had previously mentioned to Starfire that he would like to learn some Tamaranean in the future.

There was one page further into the journal that listed more scientific things such as Tamaran’s moon count, the planet’s axis, the coordinates to get there through the solar system and even what stars could be seen only from Tamaran; ones that could not be spotted from Earth.

He whistled and shook his head in surprise, “Wow. Star, this is… how long have you been writing in this thing?”

“Um… since we returned from Tamaran after Blackfire attempted to force me into marriage…” Starfire answered, nervously twirling a strand of hair around her index finger.

“There’s so much information here… I could probably do a crash course in understanding Tamaran from this alone.” Robin chuckled,

Starfire smiled but tilted her head, “You… do not think it is… silly?”

“Why would I think that?”

The Princess shook her head and shrugged, twisting her fingers self consciously, “Well… I keep this journal to remind myself of Tamaran. I… write memories that I cherish or things that I miss or… things that I might forget.”

Robin frowned and laced his fingers with hers, “Star, that doesn’t make it silly. It’s great that you don’t want to forget where you come from.”

She ducked her head and blushed, giving him a small smile, “I did not want any of you to find it and think that…” She bit her lip as she grappled for the best way to phrase herself, “that I do not love Earth when I am… so at home here.” 

“Of course. We know that.” He paused and eyed her carefully, “Is… everything okay?”

“Yes!” She blurted before she took a breath and her expression faded ever so slightly, “I am… extremely happy here. I just… have been feeling the ‘homesick’ lately and have been missing Tamaran…”

She trailed off and glanced down at her book, wistfully rubbing her thumb over the worn down pages where she had written so much about her home world. She swallowed and Robin couldn’t help but squeeze her hand, in reassurance.

“Star… you can talk to me, you know.” He whispered, using his free hand to brush some of her long tresses behind her ear, a gesture that allowed him to see the unshed tears in his girlfriend’s eyes, “Hey…” 

Starfire closed her eyes briefly to rid herself of the tears and took a deep breath, turning her body towards Robin for a sort of comfort, “I am sorry… I just… become scared that I will… lose contact with Tamaran and start to forget the things that I loved about it.” She paused and shrugged one shoulder, “It has been so long since I travelled to Tamaran and despite enjoying being able to regularly speak with Galfore via transmissions… it is… difficult sometimes.”

“Star…” Robin breathed, his brows knitted together in concern. He moved a hand to her back, gently rubbing in circles to show her some affection to help her talk,

“I worry that… with my life now being on Earth… I will forget Tamaranean traditions and culture and I do not want to.” She took a breath and looked into his face, “I am… the only one of my kind on this whole planet and it saddens me. I do not have people around me that I can talk about Tamaran with and expect them to understand. My culture is strange for humans to understand which is why… I do not bring traditions or things that remind me of Tamaran up around the tower much anymore… it is not your culture so it feels… wrong to push it on you all…” 

Robin blinked in shock and sat back, “Star… we’ve never felt like you shouldn’t share your culture with us. We find it pretty fascinating because it is so different to things on Earth. We don’t understand all of it, that’s true but we’re happy to hear about it because it’s a part of you and we love you. We want you to feel happy and comfortable on Earth, even if that means you’re baking…” He paused and flipped a few pages back, “Yickelnurf Pie… every single night.”

Starfire giggled and smiled serenely at him, thankful that he understood her concerns. She felt her heart flutter as he stared back at her; despite being together for quite a while now, he never failed to reassure her in times of doubt.

“Please don’t ever feel like you have to hide the Tamaranean traits and culture from us, Starfire. I love learning about where you come from and I promise, I will never get tired of hearing things about Tamaran.” He vowed, “And I really hope you’re gonna take me seriously about learning some Tamaranean because… I think it would be pretty cool to be able to speak to each other in your language.” 

“It can be… difficult to learn.” She warned him, looking sheepish,

“I’m always up for a challenge.” He replied, grinning at her so that she knew he was determined,

Slowly, a smile stretched across her face, illuminating all of her beautiful features and giving her that ethereal aura that she so usually had. 

“Thank you, Robin.” She murmured, sighing and resting her forehead against his, feeling more at ease in knowing she at least had him to share her culture with and that was more than enough for her,

“Also… maybe we should take a trip to Tamaran soon… that way you can show us things in person that you tell us about.” Robin whispered, staring at her gorgeously green eyes,

“Truly?” 

“Mhm.”

“I would like that very much.” She mumbled, a warmth spreading across her skin in her growing joy.

Suddenly, there was a quiet rumbling that came directly from her stomach. Her eyes widened and she jerked back, glancing down at herself, “Oh.”

“Hungry?” Robin chuckled, 

“It would seem so.” She replied, bashfully,

Robin slowly got to his feet and pulled her up with him, where he still had their hands joined as one. She stood tall before him and smiled as his hands moved to her waist,

“So… what food on Earth reminds you of Tamaranean food?” Robin asked,

Starfire blinked and tapped her chin in thought, “Mm… I believe the seafood is most like my favourite Tamaranean dishes.”

“Okay… so how about we go to Sakura?” He suggested, 

Her eyes lit up in delight at that, nodding her head enthusiastically, “Oh! Yes. I most enjoy their food. Japanese cuisine is extremely delicious.” 

“It’s the squid or octopus that reminds you of Tamaranean stuff, isn’t it?” 

Starfire giggled, “Yes.”

Robin grinned and softly rubbed the palms of his hands up and down the lengths of her arms, “Did you know, it’s almost been two years since we were in Japan?” 

“It has been that long?” Starfire gasped,

He nodded, “Yup. We’re heading for 2 years together.” 

Starfire lifted a hand to his face, her slender fingers caressing his cheek and she leaned in, pressing her lips to his. A thrill ran through her as his fingers tightened against her hips, desperate to keep her there forever. 

Her free hand found his chest and she fisted the material of his uniform to bring him as close to her as possible. Robin ran his tongue along her bottom lip, teasing and testing to see how far she wanted to take this kiss.

Starfire’s hand slipped from his cheek and slid up his neck, toying with the ebony hair at the nape of his neck.

Soon enough, the red headed alien pulled away, pressing one last quick peck to his mouth before she backed off entirely, her eyes fluttering open to stare at him in a dreamlike manner,

Robin sighed but kept her firmly rooted to the spot, not quite ready to let her disentangle herself from his arms, “Mm… what was that for?” 

“A thank you… for the past… almost 2 years.” Starfire whispered, “As well as every year since I arrived on this planet.” 

“Always, Star.” Robin told her,

She nuzzled his cheek with hers before she stepped out of his affectionate hold completely and simply stood, holding his hand in hers.

“Ready to go?” Robin checked,

“Ready.” Starfire beamed, truly grateful to have met this masked boy when she had first crash landed on Earth and to have the privilege to call him her best friend and boyfriend.