#i was gonna reply with this art on that forehead post that was going around but apparently that breaks the post

[elirandom]

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[flamingo-writes]

ok but hear me out, artist f reader having pregnancy craving and hobie is taking care of her, that would be so adorable 😭💖 really love your posts, xoxo

No listen, I’m with you in this. Part of his badass punk nature is looking after his own, like the way he looks after Gwen, and how he helped Miles after 20 minutes of meeting him. I’m sure he’d be hella attentive of his s/o especially if his s/o is pregnant. Let’s go!

Chocolate Banana Bread — Hobie x Reader

You never really discussed children. Living together, staying life long partners was out of the question. It was just a given. Children were never part of the conversation. Not because you didn’t want them, but because it never turned up.

And when you found out you were pregnant, the both of you panicked a little bit. And you weren’t sure on what to do next. And the more time it went by, the more comfortable and even excited you got with the idea of becoming parents.

Hobie was already a very supportive boyfriend, but the moment you found out about the pregnancy he became even more protective and attentive. Even when you thought it was impossible. Especially when it came to your cravings.

However, his spider sense worked almost like telepathy. Every time he came home from doing his spidey duties, or just running errands, he always brought you something. And somehow it always seemed to be exactly what you craved.

Most of your days looked the same. Working in art pieces in the morning, a couple of commissions, a couple of personal projects. You went to the art gallery you helped run and helped around with whatever was needed. Lunch break. Some more time at the gallery, mostly showing people around. And then back home. And an hour or so later, Hobie returned.

However, on one of your free days, halfway through your pregnancy, you were starting to get restless. You spent the morning not doing much, watering your plants, cleaning your brushes, organising all the paint you had, even gathering all of Hobie’s sketches and pieces of scrap paper he used for his collages and random materials for installations.

This day in particular you weren’t sure what you were craving. But you wanted to eat something very particular, but you couldn’t pin point exactly what. Chocolate maybe? Bread? You could do some chocolate bread, but there was something else missing. Raisins? No. That was weird. But pregnant women got weird cravings wasn’t it? Banana? You don’t remember being this crazy over bananas but many of the things that had changed, you attributed them to the pregnancy.

Chocolate banana bread.

As you looked around the kitchen, you grew frustrated with the fact that you had very few cocoa powder. Enough flour. And no bananas. In any other moment, you could easily grab your wallet and keys and go buy what you needed. But not today. Today the raging hormones got the better of you and you felt incredibly overwhelmed with everything. The lack of ingredients. The effort of grabbing your things. Walking to the store. On your free day! This isn’t how you wished to spend your free day! Bubbling like soda, your emotions soon erupted from your eyes in desperate tears as you tried to make sense of your own emotions.

“Home, sweet’eart!” You heard Hobie’s voice echoing, coming from the room. “Marco!”

“Polo!” You replied between sobs.

Upon hearing your shaky voice, Hobie rushed out of the bedroom, alarmed. As he saw you, he got up to you and called your name softly.

“Hey, hey, baby, what’s wrong?” He asked as he gently cupped your cheeks in his large hands. “Hey, it’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay, baby, what happened?”

“I wanted to make chocolate banana bread and we only’ve got flour…” You sobbed softly, your eyes wide and teary.

Hobie chuckled softly and kissed your forehead. “Hey, it’s a’ight, let’s make banana bread, luv…” He said as he pulled away and swung his backpack off his shoulder and opened it. “Take a peek,”

You cleaned your tears and looked at him puzzled before looking inside. Your eyes widened, and the plethora of hormones and emotions made your eyes teary once more as you started crying again. Hobie giggled softly.

“Hobie! You brought what we needed for the banana bread!” You sobbed.

“Hey, it was a hunch. These spider senses are pretty spot on, aren’t they?” He chuckled as you nodded and cleaned your face with the back of your hand. “Come on, luv…” He said, kissing your forehead. “You can stop crying…”

“I’m just very happy, Hobes…” You cried softly.

“I know, babe…” He chuckled cupping one of your cheeks, “I think it’s cute, actually” he purred before jerking his head, “c’mon, let’s get bakin’, although, I don’t want my banana bread all salty from tears…” He teased, making you laugh.

“Let me go wash my face…” You whispered as he clicked his tongue and winked.

“Sure, I’ll get started in everything else,”

[justabigoldnerd]

Rules: post a kiss from any of your OCs/WIPs. Any kiss, from familial, pecks on the cheek, kisses on the forehead, to full blown steamy make-outs

This week, I'll share all the kisses in "All Eyes On Me (Your Eyes On Me)" !!

This fic is pretty much porn with plot so I'm gonna put all but the first one below the cut lmao

1.

However, by eight o'clock, both the platter and the decanter were empty and Illya was far too comfortable on Solo's expensive couch to move. "'M goin' to bed, Peril," Solo's face appeared over his, "Stayin' or leavin'?" A small smile tugged its way onto Illya's face. Solo was excellent at keeping his American accent relatively neutral, even when drunk. But recently, he'd stopped trying to hide the twinge of New York in his voice around his partners. "Staying," he slurred, his own accent noticeably thicker.  "'Kay. I'll grab a blanket. Don't go anywhere." Solo and his curls were gone again, but not for long. A soft throw blanket was draped over Illya's form, and Solo reappeared. "Good night, Cowboy," Illya drawled, tilting up his chin to better see his friend. "'Night, hun," Solo gave a loopy grin and leaned forward to plant a kiss on Illya's forehead. "Wha-," he started to question, but sleep was closer than Solo, who was currently stumbling his way to his bed, and he decided that whatever that was could be dealt with in the morning.

2.

Illya slid his hand up Dunne's neck and cradled his jaw. A kiss was coming. This was not the person Illya wanted his first kiss with a man to be with. But the mission came first. And in the dark of the club, if Illya squinted hard enough, he could pretend that it was Solo standing with him, eyes sparkling, waiting for him to seal the night with a kiss. "Keeps me happy," Illya replied, watching Dunne's mouth for a moment longer before taking a breath and dipping his head, kissing him with all the hunger he could muster.  Dunne hummed into the kiss, locking his hands around the back of Illya's neck and deepening it, inviting his tongue into his mouth. When they parted, Illya kept his eyes closed, beaming. The tightness and wrongness in his chest made it difficult, but Illya was able to convince Dunne that he'd thoroughly enjoyed the kiss.

3.

Dunne rambled on about everything under the sun on the short walk to his flat. Illya mostly tuned him out, nodding along in mock interest. It was nothing important, mostly about horse racing and art. Soon, they reached the building and Dunne tugged him upstairs, suddenly in more of a hurry. Illya allowed himself to be pulled into Dunne's apartment, taking a moment to examine the room for any clue as to where the safe would be. He didn't have long, however, because Dunne pushed him against the wall and kissed him roughly. His hands skirted under the fabric of Illya's shirt, fingers burying themselves in his hair. Illya squeezed his eyes shut, desperately imagining that Dunne's brown eyes were blue. He had a job to do. He grabbed Dunne's face and kissed him back, letting his target unbutton the rest of his shirt. Once it was open all the way, Dunne helped him out of it. His hands caught on the number of scars marking his torso and he pulled away for a moment, intrigued.

4.

"Me too," Illya said quickly, his heart racing. "Sorry?" "I like both. Just not Dunne." The tension in Solo's shoulders melted away, and he laughed, breathy and relieved. "I never would've guessed." "Like I said," Illya drawled, everything from the past few days finally making sense. He grabbed the seat of Solo's chair and pulled it close. Solo gasped lightly and braced himself with one hand against the table. A pink flush spread across his face. "You are a terrible spy." Trading lessons for passion, Illya cupped Solo's face and closed the distance between them with a truly delirious kiss that made heat coil in his belly. All of the exhaustion was banished from his body, replaced by adrenaline. After a second of shock, Solo reciprocated, shifting impossibly closer to Illya and tangling his fingers in his hair. When they finally parted, Solo panted, "I was jealous. I wanted to be the one to tear that tiny shirt off of you. I wanted to be the target of what I taught you. I wanted you to use them on me." "I imagined he was you. To make it through," Illya laughed, amused by their mutual oblivion. "Did it help?" "Little bit. Nothing like the real thing," he pulled him into another kiss, his hands drifting to the buttons of Solo's waistcoat.

5.

Solo caught his hands and pulled away a bit, concern on his face, "Are you sure? After what happened tonight?"

Illya adjusted so that he was holding Solo's hands, and gazed into his eyes, "More than ever." Then he stood and pulled Solo with him to the bed. He let Solo climb onto it, then Illya hovered over him, pressing starving kisses to his lips. Solo's hands slid up Illya's chest and worked to unbutton the fresh dress shirt Illya had changed into after his shower.

6.

Having never bedded a man, Illya was unsure how to proceed. He knew what felt good for himself, but that was it. Planting a kiss to Solo's hip bone, he rumbled, "Show me what you want."

7.

"Close, I'm close," Solo warned, his rhythm faltering. His eyes squeezed shut and his whole body tensed. Illya kept the pace, but rose up to kiss Solo through the orgasm. "Mm- Fuck, Illya!" Solo cried into the kiss as his back arched and he came, shuddering. "That's my úmnitsa," Illya purred, swallowing the moans of Solo's come-down with grateful kisses.

8.

"'Pretty good'? I think I deserve more credit," Illya pinched his waist playfully, making them both laugh. "Okay, fine," Solo rose up to kiss him again, "I never want to scream anyone else's name." The commitment in his words scared the little boy in his chest that had been abandoned one too many times. Illya comforted the small, teary-eyed version of himself by assuring him that, politics being what they are, if Solo were to abandon them, he would have to kill him. "You won't," Illya promised between kisses that were growing deeper again, "Not if I have any say."

9.

"There's one more thing you need to learn," Solo said, dripping with mischief. "What would that be?" "The definition of a 'switch'," the disheveled tone had dissipated, replaced by a sultry confidence made hoarse by Illya's efforts. Solo pulled him into one more kiss before swiftly rolling them over so that he straddled Illya's hips. Woah. Maybe Dunne had been right about one thing.

10.

"How'd you guess?" Solo grinned, ducking to press a soft kiss to Illya's lips before biting down on his bottom lip. Illya gasped in pleasure and pain. When Solo sat back up, he praised, "So clever."

11.

"Well, my dear, that's what I'm about to do," Solo eased, pressing a soft kiss to his inner thigh. "Oh." Eyes twinkling, Solo traced the skin of Illya's thigh with his fingertips, resting his hand on his hip. He trailed gentle, almost-chaste kisses along the inside of his other thigh until he reached Illya's dick. Solo gingerly wrapped his free hand around the base of Illya's length, then looked up at him through his lashes, "Ready?"

12.

Familiar with the high of the afterglow, Illya just smiled down at him and pulled him up to give him a slow, chaste kiss. "Decide that in the morning. Shower?"

13.

"No rush. I'm enjoying this. I meant it when I said I was in love with you," he got quieter as he spoke, vulnerability seeping through the cracks. That warm ember glow spread through Illya's chest again and he ran his fingers through Solo's curls. "I am in love with you, too." "That settles it, then," Solo gave him a soft kiss on the lips and cuddled further into Illya's arms, "Five more minutes." Illya closed his eyes again, "Five more minutes."

14.

When Solo re-emerged from the bathroom, he looked far more put together in a gray-blue three piece suit and his hair carefully styled. Gaby leapt up and crossed the room, throwing her arms around his neck in an unexpected hug. When she pulled away, she looked between him and Illya and declared, "You smell like him. You fucked." "I prefer 'made love'," Illya clarified, making Solo turn beet red. "I hate both of you. I expect this from you," he turned back to Illya, "But et tu, Peril?" "Is fun to see you flustered," Illya shrugged, approaching him, holding his face, and kissing him softly.  "I guess that's payback for my stunt back in London, huh?" "So clever," Illya purred, and Solo flushed again. "I'm going to go call Waverly and report you both to HR."

15.

Gaby, mid-lyric, threw out her arms at the sight of him and wrapped him in a tight hug, kissing him on the cheek before taking the flowers he brought. "These are beautiful! I know just the vase," she reached up into Solo's cabinet and produced a pretty, rectangular, green vase. The epitome of spring with the white and yellow bouquet.

16.

"You brought flowers?" Solo cooed, turning from the stove top. That adorable frilly pink apron was tied around him again. "How domestic, Illya!" Illya rolled his eyes good-naturedly and pulled Solo into a slow, soft kiss by his waist. Solo's hand held his face gently, and he smiled into it. When they parted, Illya said, "I am getting used to domestic. Is nice." "No arguments from me," Solo grinned, still wearing that awestruck expression he got after every kiss, despite the months that had passed. Illya could understand, though. He kept falling in love with Solo over and over again. With every kiss, every meal, every mission, every witty or not-so-witty quip, every bicker and rescue and night spent enjoying each other's company in every sense of the phrase, Illya fell even more in love with the most unlikely of partners.

Open Tag for anyone who (made it this far, lol 💕) wants to join!!! 💕💕💕💕💕

[jrob64]

Sneak peek of a new story for  @apiratewhopines (and whoever else wants to read it!)

Today is the birthday of one of my favorite people in the CS fandom, @apiratewhopines​! I hoped to have this story finished for her and it’s very close, but I can only post the sneak peek this morning. The art and story are a result of  a conversation we had about glass blowing and what it would be like to see Killian Jones in a glass hot shop. It was meant to be a short one-shot, but it’s already nearing 10,000 words! I hope you love it, my sweet friend! 

Find the sneak peek under the cut. 

*********

As she drove to Portland Wednesday afternoon, Emma worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She was excited but also nervous, not only about learning something new, but also about meeting the man behind the sexy voice. She had actually dreamed about him the night after their conversation on the phone, as if her subconscious was trying to put a face with the voice that was still echoing in her ears.

Parking her bug in front of the warehouse her GPS declared was her destination, she drew in a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. Then she grabbed the gift certificate off the seat, flung her car door open and stepped out.

She approached the building and pulled open the creaky metal door, looking around as she entered, but not seeing Killian Jones. Smiling at the glassblowing equipment spread around the large space, she mentally named things she recognized from watching the Netflix show and numerous YouTube videos.

Turning her attention to several blown glass pieces sitting on a table beside the door, she carefully picked up each one to study them.

“You must be Emma Swan.”

The words spoken close behind her startled her so much, she almost dropped the beautiful aqua colored bowl she was holding. Letting out a gasp, she quickly set it back on the table and turned around, saying, “Oh, I didn’t know you were…”

Her words trailed off as she got a look at her instructor. Her first thought was that her dreams of him didn’t do him justice, and her second was that his looks certainly equaled the sexiness of his voice. He appeared to be about her age, was a few inches taller than her, with dark, disheveled hair, a strong, scruff-covered jaw, piercing blue eyes and a gleaming white smile. His hands grasped both ends of a towel slung around his neck, making his biceps bulge under the sleeves of his tight, white T-shirt, the V-neck allowing her to see dark hair peeking out.

While he waited for her to speak again, he used the end of the towel to wipe away the sweat on his forehead. A few strands of hair flopped down over it once he finished and her hand inadvertently reached forward, intending to brush them away. Suddenly realizing what she was doing, she jerked her hand back and ran it through her own hair instead.

He looked at her with his head cocked and a raised eyebrow, his roguish grin convincing her he knew the effect he was having on her. She cleared her throat and said, “Uh, yeah. I’m Emma.” Holding out her hand, she added, “It’s nice to meet you, Killian.”

He took her hand, squeezing it lightly as he shook it. “Likewise. Have you been waiting long?”

“Not at all. I just got here and was admiring your work,” she said, sweeping her arm toward the glass works on the table. “They’re very good.”

“Thank you,” he replied with a smile. “Hopefully, by the end of your lessons, you’ll be able to make some nice pieces, too.”

“That would be great!” she said, her voice bubbling with excitement.

“Shall we get started?” he asked.

“Oh, do you need this?” She held out the crumpled gift certificate.

“Aye,” he said, taking the paper, folding it and sticking it in his back pocket. Then he gestured for her to go ahead of him.

“You didn’t check it. Are you just gonna take my word for it that it’s worth ten lessons?” she asked teasingly.

“Well, you haven’t lied to me thus far.”

She turned to look at him over her shoulder and saw the smirk on his face. She was enjoying the banter with him and already felt at ease.

*********

Hopefully, the full story will be posted within the week. Happiest of birthdays Beth! 

Tagging: @xsajx @hookedmom @kymbersmith-90 @kmomof4 @lassluna @pirateherokillian @teamhook @stahlop @elizabeethan @whimsicallyenchantedrose @resident-of-storybrooke @therooksshiningknight @jennjenn615 @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @killianswannn @stories-enchanted @eleveneitherway @withheartfulloflove @kday426 @djlbg @kristi555 @laschatzi @xarandomdreamx @wyntereyez @goforlaunchcee @yasbio2015 @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @wefoundloveunderthelight @hollyethecurious @let-it-raines @jonesfandomfanatic @searchingwardrobes @oncechicagolove @andiirivera  @gingerchangeling @everything-person @klynn-stormz @qualitycoffeethings @enchanted-swans @ohmakemeahercules @donteattheappleshook @bluewildcatfanatic @the-darkdragonfly @demisexualemmaswan @grimmswan @spartanguard @flslp87 @ultraluckycatnd @thisonesatellite @captainswan21 @zaharadessert @mariakov81 @snowbellewells @kiwistreetswan @batana54 @nadine200179 @probalicious17 @courtorderedcake @julesep3026 @jackieorioncat @whatthehell102082 @jarienn972 @sthonour @linda8084  @pirateprincesslena @daxx04 @winterbythesea @artistic-writer @cocohook38 @captainswan4life85​ @molly958 @itsfridaysomewhere @fallingforthecaptain  @onceratheart18 @strangestarlighttree @justanother-unluckysoul @mrs-potato-but-likes-tomato @anothersworld @deckerstarblanche @purplehawkcaptain  @superchocovian @k-leemac @citygirlscowboy @laughterandbooks @sotangledupinit @apiratewhopines @huntressandlioness1 @cosette141  @gingerpolyglot @motherkatereloyshipper @cs-rylie @anmylica​ @paradiselady19​ @pawshapedheart​ @vampcoffeegyrl23​ @elfiola​ @softkilly​​

[flydotnet]

Mundane

WHUMPTOBER 2023, DAY 20: “People don’t change people, time does.” Blanket | Found Family | “You will regret touching them.”

I originally had a whole other idea planned. In fact, I had it planned from almost day 1 of Whumptober... and then I didn't want to write it because it was for a fandom I'm not into at the moment and forcing myself to write it was too much. Combine that with semi-writer's block and you get me, panicking at 10PM I don't have an idea yet again.

This is very short as a result because, as I said, I really didn't want to write today, but I also didn't want to break such a long streak, especially on a round day count, so I bruteforced myself lol

This is, I suppose, the sweet version of "Répondez, s'il-vous-plaît" from like last week, except you also get Just Hidalgo! As a free add-on to your fancy vague-ass post-canon setting package.

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

Mundane Sanctuary

Summary: It's a calm afternoon in a flat with four friends - nothing more, nothing less.

Fandom: Some post-canon Captain Tsubasa shlock, you know how it is around here

Word Count: 1K words

AO3 version available here.

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Being sick sucks ass, it’s always sucked ass, and it’ll never stop sucking ass. That’s a rule accepted by pretty much everyone, isn’t it? Whomever doesn’t get grumpy whenever it happens can try and justify their opinion, and he’ll try respecting it – it doesn’t mean it’s right.

Despite this, one of his friends has been adamant on that whole shebang not sucking ass, and honestly, JB can’t wrap his head around it.

Yet when he looks at his friend, trying to see if finally anger crosses his face, all he gets greeted with is a polite smile and slow, hoarse words.

“It’s really no big deal,” Yuzo tells him again, so it’s back to square one again.

“It should be, though, right? You can complain, you know!” JB turns his attention to the two other persons in the room. “Right, guys? I can’t be the only one to think that being sick sucks!”

“Maybe some people like whining about it less than you do, JB!” Max strikes back with a chuckle.

“That’s a little mean-spirited to say, Maxine,” Just adds.

“It’s just part of life,” Yuzo finishes as he balls up inside the blankets.

A shiver almost visibly courses through him as he does.

“You’re cold?” JB asks, all thought process about the righteous art of complaining about achy joints and stuffed noses ceasing on the spot.

“Y-yeah,” his friend stutters.

“I’m gonna fetch you another blanket then.”

He’s up as soon as he can even finish the sentence, barely seeing Max in the corner of his eyes picking up a thermometer before he’s into his bedroom and going through whatever may be in his closet. He almost never opens that thing for anything but his civilian clothes, and now, it’s biting him back in the ass: he needs to find a blanket that’s warm and sheets to put it inside on top of it.

He does manage to find it, however, and actually still in its original plastic bag – it may be unused, but it doesn’t have to be a bad thing, and at least it means it’s clean for Yuzo. That’s a very good thing if you ask him.

When he comes back, Max has her hand on Yuzo’s forehead and a frowny look on her own face.

“I’m back with a second blanket,” JB announces anyway.

“Ah, good!” She replies without looking at him.

“Is something wrong?”

“I think I’m a little warmer than before,” Yuzo chuckles, and even now, the congestion in his voice is so obvious it’s itchy to hear. “Not by much, though…”

“It’s still a rise in temperature and I don’t like that.”

JB gives his friends the second blanket, which Max proceeds to install on top of the first, mindful of the width of his trusty couch.

“I think Yuzo would know better than you if he felt off.”

She deadpans back at him.

“You’re both absolute catastrophes at admitting you don’t feel well. Remind me how we ended up in this situation, boys?”

“Ha…”

Yuzo coughs into his elbow in lieu of an answer.

“That’s what I thought,” she adds.

JB watches Maxine go back to her seat on the armchair right next to the couch – she’s the nearest to Yuzo for obvious reasons and neither JB nor Just was dumb enough to rob them of the proximity. God knows that can’t be that easy for them, with how tense in-laws can be. In a way, maybe they’re both their friends’ sanctuary (that sounds oddly deep for no real reason).

Silence ensues for a bit. It’s weird but far from uncomfortable. It feels right, in a way JB can’t quite put into words (not that he’s ever been very eloquent) – and there he is again with the thought of this being a sort of sanctuary. It doesn’t have to be an artsy-fartsy thing, after all, so why shy away from the idea?

“I’m going to brew us some tea,” Just says as he gets up from his seat, breaking the quiet. “Does anyone have specific requests?”

“I want honey in mine please!” Max immediately replies.

“Same here!”

“So honey for the four of us. I’ll see you in around ten minutes.”

He disappears from the living room and into the kitchen.

Before silence can settle once more, Max breaks it, smiling as she looks around.

“How many times have I been here… I lost count a while back.”

“Same, damn. I think at some point you were over here every single day.”

“It was handier for me to come here after class, rather than my parents’ place.”

Yuzo is silently following along, his eyes sliding from him to her and back to him while, like them, he sips on his tea.

“You still have your room back there, you know that?”

“Yeah, I do,” she laughs.

“Maxine has a room for her here?”

“Yeah, I do. Haven’t slept there for a hot minute, but it’s filled with all sorts of me things, I’m sure.”

“Can confirm, I haven’t moved a damn thing in there!”

“Does Just have one too?”

“He does, yeah, but you can’t really tell, he’s not been here as often as Max has. It almost looks more like any guest room than a friend’s, but oh well…” He shrugs. “It is what it is.”

Just’s back with tea soon enough, all neatly placed on a tray – there truly is nothing this guy can’t do without being at least a little artistic about it. He gives everyone a steaming cup, reminds them to mind the heat of the water before they start drinking, then leaves the tray on the coffee table near the couch.

“You know, this feels like having a family,” Yuzo states out of the blue.

The three others stare at each other for a brief silence.

“What makes you bring that up now?” Max asks

“I don’t know, it’s… Just a thought I had.”

“This is very humbling to hear,” Just replies, his face the softest JB has seen in quite a while.

“It’s difficult to explain,” Yuzo continues. “I’ve never had a very close relationship to my family, but when we’re together, I… think I know how people feel like when they talk about their own relatives. It’s warm.”

“That sounds about right.”

Both Max and Just agree in silence; meanwhile, JB decides sicknesses suck, but they don’t have to be that bad.

[rosetherat]

Doodles soo many doodles I’m mentally unwell I’m going to skin myself alive or something but how would you even do that like that doesn’t make sense I mean you could but could you really I don’t believe it I’d have to call a friend for help probably anyway enough about my weekend plans It’s like doodly doodles this time cause im like who’s that composer guy with the wig whoever he was im him but for art im like Jesus one of these days im gonna walk outside and the people will throw stones at me and I’ll go hey don’t do that and walk back inside because im smart and know they would never enter my house without me letting them in because they are polite okay moving on it’s monkey time ladies list your favourite monkey species below I’m being interactive see im interacting with you all isn’t this nice I still don’t know how this app works how do I reply to people when they say stuff about me do I just not or what what’s the social etiquette here still autistic no social skills this place is hell for me that’s why I only come on to post art and then like leave straight away I don’t even have notifs on for this thing I don’t like it it’s too scary okay moving on again did I already talk about monkeys probably is anyone even still reading r my two followers seeing this what’s that song where it’s like and it was all yellow yellows my favourite colour okay maybe pink is my favourite colour yeah yeah I love pink my whole room is pink I look at pink and I go yay! I’m like that hippo from fnaf he’s my number one kin now what’s a kin does rhat mean he’s my kid or what anyway I’m him now I’m a rambler I’m a rambling man I’m CRAZZAY it’s my Uber autism Uber speaking of happy late lesbian day I’m like the ultimate lesbian I’m the final boss probably maybe not I’m like a secret boss that you have to look up where to find me and it’s never worth it anyway can we go back to the doodle go back scroll up and look at it again and think wow what a doodle rat that’s a doodle alright why did I name myself rat why did I do that to myself okay it’s cause people used to call me a rat but I said no no no this is clearly not a being mean thing this is a cute endearing thing like a nickname because rats r cute so I embraced it because social cues don’t exist to me and If I wanna be a rat then dude, get me in a sewer or something let me scuttle around notice how I’m still going that’s called being unmedicated my brain goes faster than the speed of light I’m thinking about a minimum of ten things at the same time rn it sucks if any doctors r around and would like to shorten my waiting list wait so I could be medicated that’d be helpful I’ve been waiting like four years at this point how does it take four years for you to go hey here’s the medication you need like is it that hard wish I was a monkey they don’t get medicated they don’t have the technology for that GET ME OUT KF HEREE anyway bye bye my babas I just realised it’s 4:20 rn and I think that’s funny so I must fall asleep immediately so I fall asleep at the funny number this is the part where u tuck me in and give me a little kiss on the forehead warning I sleep with ten blankets and like three of them r weighted so you will have trouble tucking me in I can’t help it I’m like a little bear I like being warm if I had a cat or something I wouldn’t have to do this I want a cat so bad btw I need a little guy who will curl up on my chest and go meow at me to remind me of who I am WAKE ME UP WAKE ME UP INSIDEEE that’s me if I was emo okay I should wait another thing don’t forget the hot water bottle I sleep with like two hot water bottles you might be thinking how do you not overheat with ten blankets and two hot water bottles and the answer is I’m simply better than you also I’m always cold my body I can’t regulate my temperature it sucks im just so cold. Omg arg refrence the cold guy Ermm did you say guy? PURPLE GUY hor hor hor hor hor I love fnaf this is why I stick to twt they have a short word limit if they didn’t have that I’d be making whole novels this is just white noise omg channel referen

Oh my god I can still type this is like Christmas for me know that I never shut up is anyone still here if you make it through reply with like idk apples and I’ll send u my credit card information just kidding aha! I don’t use those because I’m paranoid the government can track me with them it’s all paper money for me teehee if I was a monkey I’d hope to be a proboscis monkey did you know they regurgitate their food and chew their cud that’s so dreamy majestic even wish I did that sadly I am just a little human lad anyway this time I’m really going im leaving I think Charlie’s ending stream so I have no more reason to be awake enjoy the art in the meantime my eyes hurt I’ve been sick for over a month is that normal I get headaches like every day and my eyes r always dry my nose is like an Olympic runner at this point that thing does not stop and as I am sick I deserve rest and like onion rings oh you don’t even know about the onion rings I’m eating on like an average 20 onion rings a day I can’t stop I can’t even help it it’s my autism taste buds I eat the same thing for like 2 months and then never wanna touch it again for like a year I can’t help it GUINEA PIGS I wish I had one I’d let it lay on my chest and go hello little guy this is why I need a cat that will cuddle with me I need it right now get me one someone assign a cat to me I need it to crawl through my window one day and refuse to leave how would a cat even get through my window they can’t climb that high okay he just ended tbis means I can leave now please look at the art it’s not even art it’s a doodle anyway goodbye

[respectable-username]

I saw more Last Life fan art and it seeded a brain fart story idea so now I'm making it your problem!

Edit: Now edited and posted to AO3!

---

Etho was rudely dragged from his sleep as something soft and heavy dropped onto his face.

"Oh c'mon man!" he groaned, cracking his eye open against the morning sun to glare at his roommate.

"I'm bored," replied Bdubs, his back to Etho as he adjusted his hair in the window's reflection. "You sleep too long."

"It's like 8am."

"Exactly. I've had to entertain myself for a whole 2 hours now!"

Etho grumbled, dragging whatever had landed on him off his back as he sat up, his fingers digging into the soft, green fabric.

"Bdubs, don't you have somewhere better to put your jacket?"

"Try it on!"

"But why?"

Bdubs turned back to face Etho. A very familiar black headband sat atop his forehead.

"Oh no no no no no."

"Oh come on, it'll be fun!" said Bdubs, snatching Etho's jacket off the floor and pulling it on. His hands barely made it out the ends of the sleeves.

"For who?"

"Just think of all the pranks we could pull. Think of the look on Grian's face! 'Aww it's just Bdubs.' 'Aha! No, it's Etho! Run for the hills little man! The PvP master is after you.'"

"You know I'm really not that good at PvP–"

"And anyway, I've seen you looking at my jacket. So soft. So green. So warm. Don't you just wanna wrap it around your shoulders? Feel the soft moss brushing against your cheek?"

Etho hadn't even notice himself rubbing the gentle material between his fingers. He pushed it off onto the bed beside him, half covering it with his blanket as he swung his feet out onto the floor.

"You know it'll never work. One of us is gonna end up dead. Probably you."

"How about if I throw in the clock?"

This got Etho's attention.

"You'll let me wear your clock?" Etho said, raising an eyebrow.

"Sure, sure," said Bdubs as he picked it up off his own bedside table, his smile straining as his fingers brushed along its gilded surface. "Nobody would believe you were me if you didn't have my clock."

Etho pulled the jacket on.

"Hand it over," he said with a wry smile. The jacket really was as comfortable as it looked.

Bdubs' fingers clenched tighter around the clock.

"Bdubs, you promised."

Bdubs sighed, walking over to Etho and placing it into his waiting hand. He hesitated.

"Don't you dare lose it!" said Bdubs. "I'll know if you replace it with a different one."

"I won't. I promise."

Bdubs let go of the clock. Etho reached down and hooked it into place on his belt.

"How do I look?" Etho stood up and did a twirl.

"Almost as good as me. So, an improvement."

This earned Bdubs a friendly shove, chucking as he stumbled a few steps back towards his own side of the room.

The laughter stopped as something caught Bdubs' eye. His eyes went wide as an evil grin crossed his face.

"Oh no no no. I know that look. Whatever it is, no!"

Bdubs looked down at Etho's mask, sitting neatly folded on his bedside table. He looked up at Etho.

"Can I?"

"No."

"It would be funny."

"But it's my mask."

"I let you wear my clock!"

"But it's my mask. People will see me!"

"I can see you right now!"

"Yeah, but you're not people!"

"Hey!"

"It's a compliment!"

Bdubs pouted. "Ok, what about if I wear it just for a minute? Just long enough to see what it'd look like?"

Etho considered for a second. "And then you'd give it back?"

"Pinky promise. I won't wear it outside this room."

Etho curled his fingers gently around the small scrap of fabric and tentatively held it out to Bdubs.

"Just cos I wanna see what you look like."

Bdubs giggled as he slipped it over his ears.

It really was an eerie sight, seeing Bdubs' mop of spiky brown hair sticking out of Etho's headband above Etho's mask, finished off with Etho's jacked sitting at least two sizes too big around Bdubs' shoulders. Like looking in a funhouse mirror.

"Mini me," Etho said with a smirk.

"Hey!" protested Bdubs. "I'm not short!"

Etho pulled Bdubs's hood up over his own head. "Hey Bdubs, what's it like seeing a normal sized version of yourself?"

"I'm normal sized, you're the giant!"

He grabbed Etho's arm and pulled him in front of the window pane. It truly was a weird sight reflected back at them.

"Look at us! Isn't this amazing?"

"We look ridiculous."

"Hello homie buddies! How's the rest of the BEST doing this fantabulous morning?"

The pair of them spun around to face the front doorway through which Skizz has entered, a Tango not far behind him. Etho quickly snapped his hand up across his face. He could already feel the red rising in his cheeks.

"Should I ask what you two got up to last night?" Tango asked, cocking an eyebrow at the two of them.

Etho felt himself dying inside.

"It was Bdubs' idea."

"Sure it was," said Tango with a smirk.

"Hey, whatever you two want to do in your spare time, it's all cool with me," said Skizz.

"Nothing happ– Bdubs, help!"

"Have you two never wondered what you'd look like in each others' clothes?"

"Uh, no."

Etho would have facepalmed if his hand wasn't already occupied covering, well, his face.

"Can you two give us a minute?" he said. "We'll see you in the courtyard."

"No problem!" said Skizz, already leading Tango out the door.

The door shut. Etho let out a breath.

"Gimme that," he said, snatching his mask off of Bdubs' face. "Of all the years I've known you, this was your worst idea."

"Oh please," said Bdubs. "It's been nearly 10 years. I've definitely had worse."

"Nope, this is definitely, 100% the worst."

"Ok, so are you gonna give me back my jacket and clock then?"

"No no, we had a deal. I stick to my deals."

"...The jacket's really soft, isn't it."

"...Maybe."

[tradingjack]

Sorry to all the people who followed me for the cute Stray art, unfortunately I am into pathetic, cringefail league men lmao

I wrote this a while ago but I really like it still, which is incredibly rare for me, so I edited it a little and decided to post it here just to have (and also so you don't have to go through a bunch of other bs just to read it lmao).

2.7k words of [character study? fluff?] for an older Jayce. Mentions of other characters, and includes child OC. (No I don't know who Amaranthine is, came here from Arcane and making shit up as we go). CW: very brief death mention (of adult character), some language, but pretty damn tame by my standards :P

-------

Jayce had never seen himself being good with babies, and he’d been right. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t the reason he’d been avoiding hanging out with Caitlyn for a little over a decade now. Babies were intolerable. They weren’t cute, they wailed and whined like stuck pigs for hours on end, and they smelled disgusting most of the time. Babies had no care for where their body fluids ended up, and Jayce swore babies had death wishes. If something looked like it could at least be mouthed on, a baby would stick it in its mouth.

On top of that, a baby had made Caitlyn almost as insufferable to be around as Jayce was. Jayce had been avoiding visiting her and Vi's home for that one reason.

So he was fairly surprised she’d approached him for babysitting.

“I don’t know anything about babies,” Jayce replied idly, not even looking up from his paperwork and figuring that would be enough of an answer.

“Colt isn’t a baby, Jayce, he’s thirteen years old,” Caitlyn sighed, crossing her arms. “And our regular babysitter is refusing to work with us anymore since Colt managed to get in the gun closet under their watch."

“I’m busy,” Jayce tried again.

“He’s a good kid, he can just… hang out in your office, or your lab—”

“You just said the last time you left him with a babysitter, he got into your gun closet.” He put his pen down after signing yet another document of some kind, maybe a little more forcefully than necessary, and leaned back in his chair with a sigh, glaring at Caitlyn. “My office is filled with important papers that I can’t let some baby ruin, and my lab is full of dangerous tools and prototypes. Just as bad as a gun closet.”

“Colt is thirteen, Jayce! Do you know what a thirteen year old looks like?”

"Why me?" Jayce snapped, crossing his arms. No, he wasn't about to admit he didn't exactly know what a thirteen year old looked like; as far as he was concerned, babies were babies until they were sixteen at the earliest. Even so, his point stood. "I'm not a babysitter, Caitlyn."

"But you're not doing anything for the rest of the week, Vi and I have been unable to find a babysitter in time, and I can't leave Colt alone for a whole week," Caitlyn listed off, counting each point on her fingers. "He's a smart kid, and can take care of himself for the most part. I just don't want him alone for the whole week. That'd be a little too irresponsible."

Jayce sighed, turning his glare to the table. "Why are you gonna be gone the whole week?"

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. "They didn't tell you? Vi and I have some enforcer business in Zaun, and it's incredibly important." When Jayce side-eyed her, she rolled her eyes. "Nothing to do with the Machine Herald, it's on the other side of the fissure."

Jayce sunk into his seat, now pouting.

"You're not going to convince me otherwise by acting like a child yourself, Jayce," Caitlyn scoffed, flicking him on the forehead. "You've met Colt before, you know he's not a bad kid."

"He's a kid."

"And you're an adult, and one of my best friends. Please act like it for the next week, at least."

"He's not a fan, is he? Because I swear, Cait—"

"He's Vi's kid, of course he's not a fan. But he's also my kid, so he'll listen to you." Caitlyn grasped Jayce's shoulder, pleading with her eyes. "Please? Just for a week?"

Jayce sighed. He knew he'd been fucked as soon as she'd asked, but he'd been so bored he figured the argument would be worth it. "Because you said please," Jayce relented, placing his hand over hers on his shoulder.

He could feel Caitlyn's thankful grin burrowing into the side of his head, and couldn't help a small smile.

"If he dies, I'm not taking responsibility for it," Jayce called out as she walked towards the exit.

"You would kill yourself before you let another person die on your watch," Caitlyn replied, turning back briefly at the door. "I'll tell you the details later." 

And that was how he found a baby in his lab, blue-gray eyes turned to the floor and shuffling awkwardly on disproportionate, lanky limbs. He’d briefly met Colt Kiramman before, years ago when the kid was still just a tiny little thing, mostly just because he knew Caitlyn. Jayce had never really interacted with him much, though, and doubted Colt remembered him at all. 

"Babies aren't allowed to touch things without permission," Jayce started.

"I'm not a baby," the baby snapped.

"Great! Then you won't act like one, and you'll follow the rules, right?"

Colt glared at Jayce from under long lashes, wide eyes wary.

Jayce rolled his eyes. "Anyway, as I was saying. You can take a book from this—" Jayce gestured as he talked, "—this cubby, only, and you still have to be extremely, and I mean incredibly, careful with these books. You can't touch the other books. You can access the bathroom as needed, obviously, and you can use the kitchen, just don't touch any sharp shit or my leftovers."

"Did you just say the s-word?" Colt gasped, eyes somehow growing wider.

"Did you just interrupt me again? Pay attention, it's a word, who cares," Jayce tried his best not to yell. He'd forgotten he probably shouldn't curse in front of children, but it was too late, and the kid would hear it eventually anyway. "You can sit on the sofa, and…" Jayce turned to look around the lab for other places the kid could go. "... and that's it. Sofa, kitchen, bathroom. Got it?" he asked, turning back to the baby.

Who was looking through one of his notebooks on a nearby workbench.

"What did I just say?" Jayce barked, storming over to whack Colt's hands away.

"I just wanted to look. It's not gonna get destroyed cause I touched it," Colt frowned. "You're mean."

"And you're being a baby," Jayce replied, quickly shutting the book when he saw it'd been open to one of his old sketches of Viktor. No way the kid noticed it.

"Who's Viktor?" the kid asked.

"No one," Jayce replied, way too quickly. Damn nosy kid.

"Is he an imaginary friend? I thought only babies had imaginary friends," Colt said, way too smugly for a kid.

"He's a real person, and he's… dead now," Jayce said, eyes staring determinedly at the notebook he'd just closed. It was just because of the conversation he heard Viktor laughing at Jayce in the back of his mind, at how terrible a liar he'd always been.

Even the baby didn't look fooled, though it managed to stop him from pressing the subject.

"Just go… go sit on the sofa, or something. I'll buy food later."

"Can we get pizza?" Colt asked, immediately perking up.

"No. I have high cholesterol," Jayce replied dismissively, ignoring Colt's dejected pout and moving back to his workbench.

About twenty minutes later, Jayce heard Colt's whining drift over to him from the sofa. 

"I'm bored."

"New rule, unless you have something constructive to say or you're dying, no talking," Jayce yelled back over his shoulder.

"You're boring."

"Good. You can tell your mom that when she gets back."

"Which one?"

"Uhh. Your momma." He'd forgotten about that, but Caitlyn had told Jayce about it. Colt knew Caitlyn as momma, and Vi as just ma. "Make sure you tell her that, in fact."

"I will," Colt said, with as much vitriol as a little baby's voice could muster. "I don't like you and I'm not gonna come here tomorrow."

Jayce ignored him and continued to pore over his notes.

Two minutes later, he heard a crash from near the sofa.

"What the f— hell— ah, shit," Jayce cursed, swiveling in his chair to see what the fuck Colt had done.

Colt was standing ramrod straight, arms curled defensively over his chest, next to an old, oxidized machine he'd evidently knocked over while doing… whatever the hell he'd been doing. The machine had broken, rust crumbling on top of a dark gray fire blanket.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Talis! I didn't mean to, I was just—" the words tumbled out of Colt's mouth, clearly faster than he could think.

"Just what? What were you doing?" Jayce scowled, sighing. He didn't even recognize the machine, it didn't matter that it had broken, but gods damn it all, it was still dangerous. 

"I didn't think—"

"Yeah, that much was obvious." Jayce stomped over, glaring at the machine briefly before turning back towards the kid. "Are you hurt?"

"No. No," the kid muttered shakily, and Jayce realized Colt was near tears. "I–I didn't mean it, I—"

"Don't cry. Gods, please don't cry," Jayce said, frustrated. Damn it all. He put his head in a hand, thinking hard, before deciding to grab the kid's shoulder. "Hey, I'm more glad you're not hurt. Your moms would kill me."

"I didn't mean to break it," Colt whispered, wincing away from Jayce's touch. "I'm just bored."

Jayce sighed, clapping the kid's shoulder before removing his hand. "Yeah, me too."

"What? I thought you were working."

"I wasn't really. I've had my mind on… other things, like, uhh, science stuff."

"Like Viktor?" Colt asked. "For a grown-up, you're a really bad liar."

"I've been told that. Some people say it's an admirable quality," Jayce said distractedly, squatting next to the broken machine. Oh, he thought with a little melancholy. It was the anti-gravity field, the first machine he'd built with Viktor, 25 years ago, now. Gods, it had been 25 years, a quarter century. It was just a sad little machine now, doing its best at collecting rust.

"Viktor's not dead, is he?" Colt asked, copying Jayce's squat and poking at the machine.

Jayce swatted his hand away. "Stop that, you'll get tetanus."

"I'm up to date on all my immunizations," Colt automatically replied.

"Say that a lot, do you?"

In the corner of his eye, he saw Colt flush a little, finger tracing a pattern on the floor instead. "So?"

"Just an observation," Jayce quietly replied. The kid probably gave his moms the runaround, and that was saying something, especially with what Jayce knew of Caitlyn when she was a kid. Perhaps it was deserved. Councilor Kiramman would definitely say so. And based on what he knew of Vi, she probably deserved it too.

"Well, it means I won't get tetanus."

"You could still slice your finger open. I don't think anyone wants that."

"You're touching it."

"I made it, I think I'm allowed to."

"You made that?" the kid asked, openly staring at Jayce now.

"Yes, I did." Jayce smiled as he allowed himself to say a phrase he hadn't been able to say for many years. "I made it with Viktor."

"Oh, okay." Colt shifted a little bit, clearly tired of squatting. 

Jayce decided he was too. He stood, stretching his back briefly, and then threw the old fire blanket over the machine as Colt stood up next to him, also stretching. 

"You don't like me," Colt stated flatly, watching Jayce bend down to pick up the broken machine under the fire blanket.

"Yeah, I just don't really like kids," Jayce grunted. He carried the machine over to a nearby workbench, setting it down with a crunch. "Not a whole lot to talk about with y'all."

"Why not?"

Jayce sighed. "You're aware of who I am."

"Yeah."

"Do you know the first thing about how Hextech works?"

Colt blinked owlishly at him. "Well… the gates are made from Hextech."

"Do you know the basic resonance formula for a Hexite crystal? Or what any runes mean?"

"No, but—"

"That's what I thought," Jayce interrupted haughtily. He lowered the fire blanket carefully around the rusty apparatus. The runes had eroded, crystal long gone from the center of the machine, hastily drilled-on clamps at the base hanging off the machine, unstable and unusable.

"I could know. They don't teach us that in school, though," Colt frowned. "They taught us a new formula in math class today, but it was just for triangles or something."

"You should pay attention in school. Those things are important," Jayce idly replied, gears turning in his head as he surveyed the machine. He was stuck with this kid for several hours yet, and they were both bored after just thirty minutes. Maybe… "In the meantime, you did break this."

"I said I was sorry," Colt immediately whined.

"Sorry isn't gonna fix this. How about you help me fix it?"

"That sounds boring."

"Shouldn't have broken it, then. Here, help me carry some new metal over. We'll have to replace some of these parts," Jayce said, placing his hand on Colt's back in a way that allowed no argument. The kid very smartly didn't argue.

Jayce found himself walking Colt through the whole process of fixing the machine, helping him screw things in place and making sure safety gear was secured before doing more heavy-duty things like welding. He told the kid about the runes he used as he carved them into new small metal plates, and that he and Viktor had almost no idea what the runes had meant when they'd first made the machine. Jayce even remembered rope, tying both him and Colt to the workbench and telling the kid about how the first time the machine worked, he and Viktor had been stuck floating in the air for a while.

It was kinda fun, and the kid hadn't complained through the whole process.

In fact, Colt even looked a little excited, and his eyes glowed with wonder as he looked at a Gemstone Jayce had handed him.

"My ma has two of these, but she never lets me touch them," Colt murmured, glancing up at Jayce like he was scared Jayce was going to take the Gemstone back now.

Jayce snorted. "Your ma's gonna bang up those Gemstones way more than you ever could." He gestured at the machine, not quite as good as new, but definitely functional (and a lot more safe now that Jayce had many more years of knowledge when it came to Hextech). The socket in the middle of the machine, dusted and fixed, seemed to be waiting impatiently for connection. "Go ahead and power it on."

"I just place this…?" Colt quietly asked, staring at the socket and hesitantly holding out the Gemstone.

"Yeah. Drop it in." Jayce quickly tugged on the rope around his wrist, making sure it was secure.

Colt quickly dropped the Gemstone into the socket and then yanked his hand back towards himself, hugging it to his chest and staring at the apparatus with wide eyes. Jayce gave a small smile as the machine powered on, arcs of blue energy surging through wires and rune plates twirling, the hum of electricity and magic filling the lab for the first time in weeks.

"Whoa," Colt murmured, staring at the machine.

"We're not even at the good part, kiddo," Jayce smirked. "Good job fixing it up."

"Thanks."

"Wanna power it on?"

The kid stared at Jayce, uncertainty in his eyes, like he didn't know whether he was supposed to agree or disagree.

"Well, I wanna power it on. It's been a while," Jayce shrugged, going to move the dial on the machine. It was stiffer than he remembered, and it clicked as it turned now, but the spell was still smoothly cast. His movements were practiced now, years of casting through Hexite ingrained in his muscle memory. The wave swept through him, much more gently than it had been decades ago, and he felt the familiar weightlessness lift him from the floor.

Colt giddily laughed, waving all his limbs around freely in the air. "This is so freakin' cool!" he whooped, voice echoing towards the ceiling.

Jayce sighed, a wide smile settling on his face for the first time in much too long. He hadn't seen the wonder of discovery in someone's eyes like that for years. 

Maybe the week of babysitting wouldn't be so bad after all, as long as Colt Kiramman could keep his mouth shut.

[jkstompers]

just to study | jjk

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader

summary: your seat partner asks if you’re free after class, just to study.

genre: fluff, college!au, established friendship, flirtationship, mutual pining, they go to a ‘frat’ party together, also yugyeom! a sweetheart<3 we love him.

warnings: mature!!, mentions of alcohol + alcohol consumption, mentions of sex, strong language, SEXUAL TENSION, mentions of dick sucking??, hints of a wet dream on oc’s end, very strong urges to kiss each other but no kisses today </3, that’s pretty much it!

word count: 7.4k (i...kinda went overboard)

authors’ note: hello!! this is a pt. 2 to sleepyhead! it’s based a few weeks after so yeah <3 also the pacing is kind of weird but… i don’t really know how being drunk is so............(＞人＜) i’m sorry about that! one scene was inspired by this post haha it was just so cute to think about i had to do it. ALSO i literally haven’t taken anatomy since high school so i just used random terms from quizlet T_T pls excuse that as well! but otherwise, enjoy!!!!!!!!! (っ^_^)っ

(if u see any typos...ignore them pls T_T)

side note: imagine jk looking like this when he goes to the party lmao classic fboy look with the camo bomber and his piercings ugh <3

banner pic creds here ! <3

you made it to class on time today, woke to your alarm and even had enough time to eat breakfast before you came. in a particularly good mood, you made your way up the stairs to the row jungkook was sitting in, hoping that the seat next to him was empty (you didn’t have to hope, jungkook always saved the seat next to him for you, no matter what.)

“good morning, ___!” jungkook’s voice greets you the same as always as soon as you appear next to him. he moves his bag out of the way for you to sit down.

he looks especially cute today. his long floppy hair framing his face, his sweet smile beaming up to you. you wonder how dumb you looked drooling over him for a minute before you replied, “hi jungkook, how are you?” with the same smile on your face that you show him every time he sees you. it never changes, but it never fails to make jungkook’s heart skip a beat.

“i’m doing okay, you?” he answers while you pull out your laptop.

you didn’t have a chance to reply before your professor starts talking. informing the class about the test that’s planned at the end of the month, finals in two months, and then dropping the bomb that there’s a quiz tomorrow about the things you’ve learned in the past week. a slight panic takes over you, although you didn’t know why, you understood what he was teaching and you were retaining all of the information well. but when the professor pulls up all the information on the screen to review it all, all of the words and pictures overwhelm you.

to make things worse, jungkook is to your left, not paying attention to a word your professor is saying. instead, playing some game where he has to click his touchpad an obnoxious amount of times. your attention is split between jungkook’s erratic tapping and the notes that the professor projects onto the screen, even though his computer barely made any noise, his incessant movement was distracting you.

“jungkook, you’re taking notes and playing a game?” your voice comes out as a rushed whisper. there’s a snort that comes from him before he nods. you couldn’t be mad at him. “there’s a quiz on all of this tomorrow, you know?”

“i know,” he continues to tap and click, the motion growing incredibly annoying. you didn’t know why you couldn’t have just tried to block it out, but he was just so close to you and admittedly, you looked at his hands, a lot. the way that his fingers tapped against his keyboard and his veins that accentuate his already beautiful hands, it was free art you could look at, how could you not? at this point, you’re contemplating holding his hand to make him stop tapping.

you were in the middle of typing when he finally stops, leaning back and stretching his arms up into the air. you let out a sigh of relief, until he starts again. apparently he reached the next level on his game, tapping even faster, if that was even fucking possible.

quietly, you groan. turning your attention solely on him. you place your hand on top of his, the tapping ceasing almost immediately. “please, jungkook, you’re distracting me.”

he looks at your hand before he looks at you, his chocolate doe eyes wide to the action. he gulps, “sorry.”

you remove your hand, focusing back to the presentation. jungkook feels the heat from his cheeks travel to his hand. the feeling of your hand on his wasn’t something he was expecting to experience today, but he wants nothing more than for you to do it again. he exits the game tab and changes his focus to the lecture.

or moreso, you focusing on the lecture.

you look so cute. your cheek pressed up against your fist. he stares at the way that your forehead creases in concentration. he taps on your arm that’s resting on the table, “hey, you look like you’re stressed out.”

you turn your head slightly to look over to him. “that’s because i am,” you send him a quick smile before you go back to looking at the projection.

he furrows his eyebrows, “why? you’re smart, there’s no need to worry about what you get on this.” you were an a+ student, never anything less than that. jungkook knows that you ace every test that you take, so he doesn’t quite understand why you’re so stressed.

“because jungkook,” you groan. you expected a lot from yourself, sure b’s were okay, but a’s and a+’s were what you wanted and what you thought would make you feel satisfied. there was no way you could explain this without sounding like an overachiever. so you just sigh, “i’m just not really prepared.”

jungkook thinks of the perfect way to spend more time with you, snapping his fingers before suggesting, “we should study together after class, studies show that studying with someone else will give you an a+, guaranteed.” the confidence in his voice makes you smile, and helps you ease up a little bit.

you raise an eyebrow, a laugh creeping up from your lungs. “source for that statistic, sir?”

he taps his right temple, the gesture making you snort. “no but seriously, i’ll help you out,” he assures. his laptop turns towards you to show you all the notes he took, different words highlighted and colored differently.

you act like you think about it, staying quiet for a minute or so. but you know the answer was yes no matter what. “just to study?” you tease. jungkook raises his eyebrows in surprise, an amused smile on his face, “just kidding, we can go to mine? i owe you for the ride you gave me like two weeks ago.” you tap your fingers against your laptop nervously, your teeth taking in your bottom lip as you ask. you haven’t had a guy over to your apartment, not since you’ve moved in. there’s a certain anxiousness that comes with the suggestion.

jungkook nods, “sounds good.”

“okay, again.” you brush your hair behind your ears, preparing yourself once more for another pass of the flashcards. the two of you have been at it with these cards for the past hour or so, you were determined to get these right no matter how long it took. jungkook knew you were gonna get it down, you only had three more cards, these ones specifically stumping you.

“aponeuroses,” he looks at the card and then to you.

“connective tissue that forms a broad sheet which attach muscle to bone or muscle to other muscles,” you speak confidently. jungkook nods, moving onto the next card of the set of three.

“endomysium,” he reads the card. you hesitate on this one for a second, he plays with the corner of the card until you snap your fingers.

“that’s the connective tissue surrounding the… the— uh, oh! muscle fiber?” your brain works extra hard. jungkook rewards you with another nod, flipping to the last card.

“fascia.”

“dense connective tissue,” you begin, pausing to think of the rest of the answer. you start biting your thumb nail, knowing there’s more to it but it’s not coming to your brain quick enough.

jungkook just stares, watching your facial expressions as you search for the answer in your brain. this could be the worst crush he’s ever had, he thinks you’re cute when you’re just sitting there, thinking. he doesn’t remember ever liking someone this much, most of the time his crushes went away after a few weeks or so. but it’s almost been an entire year since he’s started crushing on you, and it still hasn’t stopped. you still manage to find a way to make his thoughts surround you.

“separates and holds individual tissues? it’s the one that extends into the tendons, right?” you perk up after a minute or so. your brain finally coming up with the answer. you blame jungkook’s presence for slowing you down. maybe you shouldn’t have accepted this offer to study together, because how could you focus when jeon jungkook is sitting right in front of you?

“you’re amazing,” he praises, setting the flashcards down onto the table. you blush at the compliment, jungkook takes notice, but he doesn’t mind, he thinks pink is pretty on you. he’s never wanted to kiss your cheeks as much as he did now, and trust, he’s thought about it many, many times. “all done?” he asks after staring at you for the longest time.

you nod, “just gonna highlight these terms to review them later so i can get it down 100%.”

jungkook watches as you diligently reread your notes and highlight them. an apple on the table taking his attention away for a second when he realizes he hasn’t eaten at all today. he takes a bite, the loud crunch noise seemingly startling the both of you. it makes you turn your head and raise an eyebrow towards him.

“sorry,” he chews, “hungry.”

your stare lingers a little longer than you wanted it to. his cheeks are full of apple, you can’t help but laugh a little. “there’s still the sticker on it,” you point out.

he turns the apple around to see the blue sticker. peeling it off, he holds it on his fingertip, an idea sprouting in his mind to see that sweet smile of yours again. so he places the sticker on your cheek, your gaze moving from your screen to him and then to the fruit sticker now stuck onto your cheek. “get it? ‘cause you’re sweet like this apple is,” he smiles.

oh my god. you blush embarrassingly, your entire face flushed pink as you hide your cheeks behind your hands. he laughs at your reaction. jungkook was feeling bold today, so he moves forward, gently taking your hands away from your face to see the cute pink tint he caused. he sits back, admiring your pretty face.

you feel yourself burning hotter and hotter the longer he stares, looking everywhere but his face, too scared to make eye contact. you look back to your computer screen, “um— there’s pasta in the fridge— if you’re hungry, i made it last night.” you offer, but he declines politely, telling you that he has to leave pretty soon because his friends are expecting him to join them today.

begrudgingly, you watch as jungkook packs his things up. he thinks about how content he felt hanging out with you today, and how he wanted to do it again, as soon as possible. a thought pops into his head before he opens the door to leave. he turns on his heel.

you weren’t expecting the sudden turn, accidentally bumping into his chest. “oof! sorry.”

“it’s alright,” he laughs, helping you steady yourself by holding your shoulders. “i just wanted to ask— uh, my friends are throwing a party tomorrow night, do you— do you wanna come?” his words come out jumbled, jungkook never fails to trip on his words whenever he’s near you.

tomorrow night...it’s a friday tomorrow, the quiz is tomorrow, why the fuck not? a stress reliever from all the studying you’ve done. “sure,” you answer after a minute or so of deliberation. you look up at him with a smile, suddenly realizing how close the two of you are.

your eyes flicker between his eyes and his lips, the close proximity makes you hold your breath. “great! i can pick you up? be your DD?” he quirks his head, a smile that matches yours on his face.

you nod, “yeah, i’d like that.” with that, jungkook takes a step back, widening the space between you both as his right hand goes to hold the strap of his bag.

“okay, i’ll text you the details.” before he turns around, turning the knob of your front door and letting himself out. before the door closes, he sends you a wave, one which you reflect as he pulls the door closed. you move up and lock the door, your forehead resting against the cold metal slab.

you wonder if this crush will ever advance into something more. neither of you really push the agenda, most of the time just cutely flirting with each other and only talking to each other during class. maybe this party will be a chance to further the bond the two of you have. you could only wish that you could drop this nervous shield that pops up everytime you’re around him, but jungkook is just so cool. the campus heartthrob, everyone wants to be him or be with him.

for the rest of the day, jungkook seems to occupy your mind, as he always does. when you get to sleep, the fantasies of jungkook’s lips on yours drift you into a deep sleep, one that eventually leads to a dream that has you rubbing your thighs together. his hands were all over your body, his cologne that you were so familiar with tormenting your nose, it all felt too real. so when you woke up to the sound of your alarm, sweat beaded at your hairline. you took deep breaths, cementing the fact that he isn’t here, and he certainly isn’t doing those things with you right now.

it was not helping that you dreamt of him sexually on the day of your quiz, the one that you were immensely stressing over. now, you’re gonna have to walk into class, act normal around jungkook even though your brain produced pornographic images of him, (it’s not the first time, but it’s the first time you’ve had to face him right after it happened) and ace this quiz.

you tried almost everything you could to have cleared your brain of your dream sequence. taking a shower, eating breakfast, studying once more, etc. but when you’re walking into the lecture hall, flashes of the dream and the sound of his imagined moan echo in your mind.

you walk up the stairs with your eyes down, not sure if you could make eye contact with jungkook without turning red. “hey, ___, good morning!” the familiar voice greets you.

“morning,” you reply, dryly. taking the seat next to him and silently taking your laptop out, waiting for the professor to start the quiz. jungkook seemed a bit taken aback by your cold answer, but he took into account that you’re probably just super nervous and stressed out because of the quiz, so he doesn’t take it too personally. instead, just sitting back in his chair and waiting patiently to take the quiz as well.

at this point, you were psyching yourself out, swearing that you already forgot all of the terms. if you were quizzed on the parts of male anatomy, specifically jungkook’s, then maybe you could ace it, but the terms that you were working oh so hard to memorize yesterday slip from your mind. when the professor tells you to separate and start the quiz, you start to bite your thumb nail again.

jungkook takes a look over at you, noticing the bad habit of yours. he gently takes a hold of your arm, pulling your thumb away from your teeth. the action causing you to make eye contact with him and his big doe eyes that hold so much love and light. you find yourself a bit speechless then, too many thoughts running around in your mind.

he whispers, “you’ll do great, okay?” the statement soothing your nerves. his voice somehow makes your body relax, even though you thought you would freak out if you made any sort of contact with him.

“you— you too, good luck,” you mutter. a half smile on your face. you were grateful that jungkook broke you out of your trance, his words of encouragement suddenly placing you in the testing state of mind. the images from last night's dream seem to put themselves away for now.

the next twenty minutes are complete silence. everyone focused on the questions before them. of course, you zoomed through the quiz, prepared for the trick questions and the harder ones that come up. jungkook finishes after you. it wasn’t a surprise, jungkook didn’t even have to try, you swear you’ve never seen him stress out before. nobody was perfect, you believed that, but jeon jungkook was the closest to it.

“okay, class! the quiz will be graded by tonight hopefully, you’re free to leave,” your professor alerts the class. jungkook waits patiently until you’re standing, following you down the stairs and out the door.

you decide to speak first, since you greeted him with such a dry response this morning. it wasn’t his fault that you dreamed of him on top of you, so why were you punishing him for it? “how’d you think you did?” you asked, turning to look at him.

he shrugs, “good i guess, i think i fucked up on one or two questions.”

“was it the striation part? i think i messed up on that one too.”

he shakes his head, “you know you aced that, don’t lie.”

you stay silent, the two of you walking to the campus parking lot. neither of you engage in conversation as you usually do. the images of last night’s dream slipping into your consciousness once again. you try to shake your head, to rid yourself of the thoughts. nothing else to distract you from them because jungkook was oddly silent the entire walk. you fear that he can actually read your mind and see all of your thoughts. if he could, he doesn’t mention it. not saying one word to you until he walks you to your car, greeting you with a ‘see you next class!’ before leaving to go to his car. not even mentioning the party to you, you start to wonder if he regrets inviting you. up until you heard your phone ring when you parked in the lot of your apartment complex.

[10:24 am] jungkook: hey! forgot to remind u about the party 😫

[10:24 am] jungkook: ur still down to come, right?

[10:28 am] you: hi! yeah :)

[10:28 am] you: is there a dress code or smth? haha

[10:29 am] jungkook: not that i know of 😂

[10:30 am] jungkook: u can wear anything u want

[10:30 am] jungkook: ur cute whatever u wear

[10:31 am] you: oh stop it jeon ur making me blush

[10:32 am] you: but tell me :( should i wear something casual? pants? a dress?

[10:34 am] jungkook: 😂

[10:34 am] jungkook: it’s kind of like a frat party…

[10:35 am] jungkook: so anything is okay

[10:37 am] you: ah okay

[10:37 am] you: i’ll surprise u then ;)

[10:40 am] jungkook: alright :)

[10:41 am] jungkook: i’ll come by around 9 to pick u up? sound good?

[10:42 am] you: yeah! gives me enough time to nap and get ready lol

[10:44 am] jungkook: great :) see u then cutie

you wake up from your nap around one, you had more than enough time for you to get ready for a party. so you decide to clean your apartment first, little chores to waste time before you get yourself dolled up. when you finished, it was around seven thirty. you washed your face, brushed your teeth, all that good stuff before sliding on a simple black bodycon that you got last summer. styling your hair and spraying on your favorite perfume before looking at yourself in the mirror. this wasn’t too much, right? lots of people wear stuff like this to frat parties, so you didn’t find it too fancy. the notification sound from your phone goes off, you move to check and see if it was who you were expecting.

[8:54 pm] jungkook: i’m here :)

[8:54 pm] you: ahh gimme a sec i need to pee haha

[8:55 pm] jungkook: take ur time cutie

[8:56 pm] jungkook: i’m right in front

jungkook only really had to wait about five minutes. the visual of you walking out of your apartment doors, looking the way you did, was breathtaking. his jaw drops, mouth slightly agape as he watches you walk up to his car through the passenger window. you are so gorgeous. it’s probably the first time jungkook’s seen you in clothes that really compliment your figure, most of the time you show up to class in hoodies and sweaters. so greedily, he takes in the way the dress hugs your curves deliciously. he shakes the thoughts from his head to get out of the car and open the door for you.

“what a gentleman,” you tease, getting into the car.

he joins you soon after, “you look...gorgeous.” jungkook doesn’t seem so shy now, his eyes taking in your beautiful self.

“thank you,” you blush under his stare. “is it too much?”

“no! no— not at all, all eyes will be on you tonight.” he smiles, turning the car on. now you were able to gawk over him. a simple outfit, all black with a black and white camo bomber. his side profile is perfect, his long hair draping over his face so gracefully and his piercings somehow sparkling in the dark of the car.

he doesn’t drive too far, somewhere in the suburbs where the big houses are. a huge iron gate in the front, seemingly too fancy for a frat party setting. jungkook rolls his window down to greet someone waiting in front of the gate with a couple of other guys.

“jeon! you’re late dude,” one of the guys gives him a handshake through the window.

“sorry man, i’m here now though,” jungkook laughs. the guy giving him the greenlight and opening the gate for him, jungkook parks inside on their stone driveway, decorated with a fountain and a beautiful garden.

“your friend lives here?” you inquire, impressed by the look of the place.

he nods, “fancy right? his parents are ceo’s.” makes sense, and it would also make sense as to why they were throwing a frat party here, rich sons always seem to stir up trouble whenever they’re bored.

he steps out of the car to open the door for you, always a gentleman. he takes your hand and helps you out, the two of you walking to the huge open double doors. as soon as you walk in, the smell of alcohol hits your nose, you try your best not to cringe. the blare of the speakers is the second thing you notice, along with the shouting of jungkook’s friends greeting him. “who’s this?” one of them asks, referring to you.

jungkook seems to hesitate at first, not really knowing how to introduce you. he settles by saying, “this is ___!” not attaching any ‘friend’, ‘classmate’, or anything to the introduction. his friend holds his hand out to shake yours.

you take it with a smile on your face, “i’m yugyeom, it’s nice to meet you!” a smile that reflects yours is on his face, it made you feel welcome. you were never really the type to go to parties, your time is spent working and/or going to school, but this interaction helps you ease up a little more.

“hello, yugyeom!” you reply, shouting over the music.

“do you wanna take a shot?” he asks. pointing to the enormous kitchen where they’re housing all the alcohol, you look to jungkook first who’s paying more attention to his phone rather than the conversation you were just having.

you shrug, “why not?”

yugyeom leads the two of you to the kitchen, jungkook following behind you blindly. he looks up from his phone, done with whatever business he was dealing with to ask, “where are we going?”

“taking a shot,” you answer, pointing to yugyeom who’s already pouring three shots.

“dude, i’m not drinking, don’t pour three.” jungkook tries to stop him before he fills up the third shot glass but his arm knocks yugyeom’s in the process, the bottle spilling the clear liquid into the third shot glass.

“i’ll take two,” you suggest, feeling a bit wild and down to venture out of your comfort zone.

yugyeom smiles at this, “i like her, jeon.” he hands you the two shot glasses full of vodka, jungkook stands next to you and watches as you down the first shot. your face cringing as soon as the alcohol touches your tongue.

“you didn’t even give her a chaser,” jungkook notices, scolding yugyeom who's already downed his shot and is sucking on a lime. “here, suck,” holding a slice of lime up to your lips. his choice of words disorienting you, especially since he was holding the lime up to your mouth instead of just handing it to you. your eyes flicker between the lime and his face, but nevertheless, you suck. sinking your teeth into the sour fruit. jungkook’s eyes zeroed in on how your lips wrap around the slice, slightly grazing his fingers. it’s not long before you’re making a cute scrunched up face from the sourness. “good,” he praises. you don’t deny the slight burn your lower belly felt when he said that to you. you swear he was making sex eyes to you, but you couldn’t tell. he broke eye contact with you soon after, throwing the fruit into the trash below the table that the alcohol was perched on.

yugyeom hands you another lime for your second shot, this time no jungkook to hold the fruit for you. the second shot burning down your throat with the lime chasing after, both yugyeom and jungkook cheer, congratulating you for being a trooper (even though two shots were their warmups).

the next hour or so, jungkook brings you around. he introduces you to his friends and making conversation with them. one certain group, you didn’t really enjoy. a group of five girls, clearly swarming jungkook as soon as he turned around from talking to another one of his friends. the girls ask how he’s been doing, all of the basic conversation starters. when jungkook tries to introduce you, they all turn to you and give you a little head nod before turning their attention back to jungkook. he stands there, conversing with them longer than he had with any of his other friends, and you found yourself getting, hm, jealous.

so you search around the room crowded room, looking for some way out. your eyes spot yugyeom in the backyard through the huge sliding doors, sitting on one of those lawn chairs with the one next to him empty. you decide to leave the group you were currently getting pushed out of and join yugyeom. he notices you when you step onto the grass, trying your best not to sink into the dirt with your heels. “you doing alright? where’s jungkookie?” he asks, sitting up.

you plop down onto the lawn chair next to him. “he’s in there,” you point to the house, “with five girls.”

the last bit of the sentence makes him laugh, a cackle where he holds his stomach because he was laughing so hard. “do you want a shot?” he offers after he recovers from his fit, pulling a tequila bottle out from nowhere.

but you agree, “two, please.” he fills the two shot glasses, but not completely like he did with the vodka earlier. there were no limes, or any type of chaser for you to take around, so you take the two shots like ripping off a band-aid, quick.

“you’re a funny girl,” yugyeom compliments when you’ve downed the shots.

“thanks?” you cough, the feeling of the alcohol still burning your nose and throat, “what did i say that was funny?”

“i think it’s because i’m tipsy, but that joke you made about jungkook being with five girls was hilarious.” he slaps his knee, almost making himself laugh up a storm again, but you weren’t laughing.

you raised an eyebrow, speaking with a serious tone. “it wasn’t a joke, he’s in there with five girls.”

yugyeom tries to collect himself, sitting properly on the lawn chair when he asks you to clarify, “you mean he’s fucking them? or he’s talking to them?”

you’re silent for a second before replying, why did you say it like he was in there fucking them? maybe it’s because he might as well be, so engrossed in whatever the hell they were saying to even notice that you were gone. “just talking to them,” you reply.

“that’s what i thought, jungkook isn’t like that anymore,” yugyeom nods his head, pouring another shot out for you.

“anymore?” you ask. he hands you the shot, you hesitate this time, starting to feel the effects of the first four shots you took. he doesn’t push you to take it. he just leans back onto the lawn chair as he sighs.

“you could say he’s retired,” he shrugs.

the term makes you laugh, “...a retired fuckboy?” you sit back into the lawn chair as well, looking up to the night sky. the shot glass forgotten on the table next to you. your body feels like it’s floating.

“yeah, he hasn’t really been doing stuff like that recently,” yugyeom spills. you stay quiet after he feeds you this information. yugyeom offhandedly telling you that you shouldn’t be jealous makes you feel guilty. why were you even jealous? jungkook was technically still just a friend to you. just because the two of you flirt every now and then doesn’t mean you’re together. of course he would be surrounded by girls, just look at him!

“there you are! i was looking all over for you,” jungkook interrupts your inner monologue. his voice comes from across the lawn, you look up to see him walking over to you and yugyeom.

“hi, jungkookie,” you smile up at him. the alcohol having more of an effect on you the longer you let it sit in your stomach.

he almost freezes up at the nickname, looking over to yugyeom and asking, “did you tell her to call me that?”

yugyeom holds his hands up in innocence, “i didn’t tell her to do anything, she’s like five or six shots deep though.”

you take the shot that was forgotten on the table and down it. “six,” you clarify.

“alright, slow down, iron liver,” jungkook jokes. yugyeom stands from the lawn chair, receiving jungkook’s telepathic signals to get the fuck up to he could talk and hang out with you.

“play beer pong with me later, ___! i’m gonna go look for eunwoo,” yugyeom points to you, giving you a thumbs up before leaving the backyard and moving into the house.

“feeling okay? think you might throw up soon?” jungkook asks, replacing yugyeom in the chair next to you.

“feel like i’m surfing, you know? like wavy,” you answer. the feeling was hard to explain, you weren’t dizzy but at the same time your brain was telling you to stop moving, even though you were completely still.

“ah, you’re getting there,” jungkook snorts. you didn’t have much willpower to answer, so the two of you sit there in a comfortable silence before a group of people coming towards, all greeting jungkook and you. they offer you a red cup, despite your current predicament. leaning against the chair and your droopy eyes, telling them that you’ve taken too many shots. a lightweight at her peak.

jungkook tries to deny it for you, but with a smile, you accept the cup. it was filled with the fancy mixed alcohol juice they had. “thank you,” you place the cup onto the table, “i’ll drink it.... later..” your words begin to draw themselves out. jungkook somehow finding a way to make the entire group leave, making it just the two of you again.

“give it to me, you’re starting to slur your words.” his hand is open, laying on the table and waiting for you to surrender the cup.

your eyes flicker from the red cup, to his face, then to his hand. a smirk on your face when you hold the cup up to your lips, tilting it back and drinking the cursed juice. you weren’t able to down it all, it was too much, you drank maybe ⅔ of it. you cough, taking in a deep breath as you try to steady yourself.

you weren’t sure if it was because you were drunk, but the way that his face looks in the moonlight was so pretty. so you just had to tell him. leaning forward, you speak, almost a whisper, “you’re so handsome.” you drag your finger across the expanse of jungkook’s hand. “did you know i have no gag reflex?” you smile, not your typical sweet smile that he’s used to, but a devilish grin.

jungkook’s eyes widen, his cheeks flushing immediately at your remark. “alright, you drank way too much.” he takes the red cup from your hands, dumping it out onto the grass in front of you both.

“hey, i wasn’t done,” you pout, but jungkook didn’t give you much time to mourn your spilled drink before he was holding your arm, lifting you from the lawn chair you were sitting on. “where are we going?” you ask, trailing behind him with your hand in his.

“gonna get you some water and something to eat,” he answers. the two of you move through the house, jungkook pushes through groups of people and makes sure you’re safe behind him.

“i have to pee.” you tip toe to tell him your emergency in his ear. he stops at the stairs, knowing a bathroom where no one else goes. his friend specifically telling him to use that bathroom when they have parties because the other ones get way too gross.

he brings you up the stairs to the guest bedroom, opening the door to reveal one of the biggest rooms you’ve seen. “the bathroom is there,” jungkook points to the door on the left. you nod, your wobbly legs making their way to the toilet.

jungkook sits on the bed patiently, waiting for you to finish. he hears the flush and the sound of the sink running, the door opens and you’re coming out of the bathroom, pulling your dress down. “are we gonna have sex?” you utter, slurring the end of your sentence. your alcohol poisoned mind taking over your ability to speak.

his eyes widen at the question. “no! no— oh my god, this is just the room with the cleanest bathroom, we’re not—“

you’re next to him now, “you don’t want to?” you pout. glassy eyes looking into his.

“no! i mean, yes, i want to but— fuck, just— just not now, yeah?” jungkook stumbles over his words, his face blushing a blood red. your pretty face peering up at him makes him even more flustered, his hands start to sweat.

“okay,” you nodded. your drunken brain deciding to stop the interrogation of jungkook’s desire for you. to which jungkook lets out a sigh of relief, taking your hand and bringing you out of the room, down the stairs, and out into the driveway. he brings you to his car, opening the passenger door for you. “wait, are we leaving already? yugyeomie wants me to play beer pong with him,” you complain, wiggling your hand from his grasp.

goosebumps appear on your arm when you make it outside of the house. jungkook notices when he turns around to look at you. without a second thought, he takes his jacket off and places it over your shoulders. the newfound warmth shielding you from the cold night. he didn’t mind the breeze, especially since he was still recovering from the stunt you pulled in the guest room.

“we can come back later if you want, let’s just go grab something to eat first so you won’t regret this tomorrow morning.” his explanation is pretty solid according to your drunken brain, so you oblige, moving to sit in his passenger seat.

he joins you in the driver’s seat not long after. “can we get mcdonald’s?” you ask as soon as he sits down.

a smile appears on his face as he starts the car, “sure.”

the drive made you feel a little dizzy, it makes you laugh. “you okay?” jungkook asks, but you nod your head. he’s so sweet, always asking if you’re okay, making sure you weren’t feeling too awful, etc. it only makes sense that you were falling head over heels for him.

“totally fine,” you look over to him with a smile on your face. he’s so fucking pretty, his side profile is something you could rave about for days. as he’s pulling into the mcdonald’s drive through, he’s talking into the intercom, ordering the two of you something to eat when you’re suddenly mumbling, “mcflurry, kookie, oreo mcflurry.”

he looks back to you, an amused smile on his face, “oreo mcflurry?” he repeats. you nod, “okay, anything for you.”

he reiterates the request into the intercom and the server gives him the greenlight. he drives forward and waits until the next car moves up, in the time being, he looks to you. your head laying up against the door and your eyes slowly blinking, warning him that you might fall asleep. so he reaches into his backseat, his arm looking for the water bottles that he usually keeps in his car.

“hey,” he taps your arm gently, “drink some of this first.” he hands you the water bottle, you blink slowly, trying to figure out what he was handing you. once you realize it was a water bottle, you take it, opening it and gulping some of the water down. jungkook is grabbing the food when you’re screwing the cap back on. he parks somewhere in the parking lot and tells you to start eating.

you grab your mcflurry first, the feeling of the cold ice cream on your tongue soothing your dizzy brain. “yum,” you think out loud.

jungkook laughs, taking out his hamburger while he takes out your chicken nuggets. “make sure to eat some of this, yeah? don’t want you throwing up and hating me.”

the thought makes you smile. jungkook was taking such great care of you. sure, he let you down the alcohol like it was nothing, but you never opposed to it, always taking the shot because you wanted to. now jungkook is here, taking care of you, because he wanted to. you knew that if it were anybody else, they probably would have left you at the party, letting you fend for yourself. the sudden warmth in your chest makes you want to tell jungkook everything.

with his jacket wrapped around you instead of him, you can see the bulge of his arm muscles peek out from the short sleeved shirt he was wearing. even drunk, your brain seems to travel back to the images from your dream. “you know, i had a dream about you, a reeaaaallllllyyyyy dirty dream, jeon jungkook.” you blurt out the confession before your thoughts catch up with you, the alcohol still very much blocking off the common sense part of your brain.

he tries his best not to overreact, but you had a dream about him? a dirty dream at that? it awakens something in jungkook, but he pushes it down, ignoring the feeling as he asks, “you did? what was it about?” he curious as to what you meant and what your dream entailed, but he didn’t want to push too far. especially since you were drunk and most likely just spilling everything because your brain doesn’t have the willpower to hold it back.

you stick your hand into the bag to steal some fries, stuffing them in your mouth. “oh, you don’t wanna know,” you chew.

jungkook quirks a brow, “well, was i good at least?” he jokes.

you scrunch your nose, nodding nevertheless. “too good, couldn’t even focus during the quiz because of it.”

jungkook is silent for a second. the conversation making him hot even though he wasn’t wearing his jacket anymore. so he clears his throat, trying to change the subject in a subtle manner. “is that why you were so mean to me this morning?” he pouts, connecting the dots.

you laugh at the question, “sorry, i didn’t mean to, i swear.”

with that, the rest of the time is spent eating. jungkook makes sure that you ate enough and drank enough water, the empty water bottle in his cupholder as proof. “do you want me to take you home now?” he asks, the two of you finished eating and now a silence takes over the car.

“are you going back?” you ask, fiddling with your fingers. he thinks you’ve started to sober up, or maybe have gotten to the point where you just want to sleep.

he shakes his head to your question, “honestly, i’m kind of tired, but if you want to go back, we can go.”

“no, i’m okay,” you decline the offer. jungkook laughs, starting the car again and driving back to your apartment complex.

you take this time to try to get yourself together. you know you’ll regret confessing to jungkook that you had a wet dream about him in the morning. but in the moment, it felt right to confess, (to your drunken brain of course). you tilt your head back, pushing your head against the headrest, and suddenly, you’re reminded of the stars jungkook has on his ceiling. you were silent as you admired the lights, jungkook takes a look at you when he’s stopped at a red light.

so cute, he thinks, staring up at his ceiling like it’s the real night sky. when he pulls up to your apartment complex, he wishes the night could be longer, that he could spend more time with you. he parks the car in the front, exactly where he picked you up. you’re looking to him now, your hands in your lap and your heart seemingly beating three times as fast as it usually does. it wasn’t the alcohol.

“did you have fun tonight?” he asks. his voice never fails to make you melt.

you nod, “i did.”

“i’m glad,” he smiles. there’s a small silence before he speaks once more, “also, y’know, you don’t have to stress yourself out so much, i know you might have expectations for yourself and stuff, but you should give yourself a break from time to time.”

the alcohol’s effects fading slowly from your brain when you start to realize that the entire reason jungkook invited you out was to help you destress. it makes you fall even harder, he was so thoughtful. even though a party wasn’t your scene, he invited you to give you a glimpse into how he has fun and hoped that it would help you loosen up a bit. you were grateful for the mental break he provided you.

you didn’t reply, purely because you were thinking about how much you want to kiss him right now, but it wouldn’t be right. when he speaks up again, there’s a nervous lilt in his voice, scared that he’s overstepped. “if you need anyone to help you— i don’t know, let loose? you can— you can always call me.” he scratches the back of his neck.

but you try your best to reassure him, smiling at the offer. “i will, thank you for tonight, jungkook, i really enjoyed it, despite being a lightweight.”

he laughs, staring at the way your face cutely scrunches when you giggle. he too, is fighting the urge to kiss you, because right now isn’t a good time. he wants to do it right. he doesn’t want to fuck it up with you. so instead, he hops out of the car and moves to open the door for you. helping you out of the car and walking you to your door, your hand in his.

“i’ll see you in class?” you turn to face him, squeezing his hand.

he nods, “yeah.” his signature bunny smile coming out to greet you a goodnight. “text me before you sleep?” he requests. you give him a thumbs up before he’s letting go of your hand and you’re sticking the key into your door, it’s then that you realize that you’re still wearing his jacket.

“oh!” you exclaim, taking the jacket off and handing it to him. but he holds his hand out to stop you.

“keep it, you can give it to me the next time we hang out, or something,” he suggests. you try to hide the growing smile behind a nod.

you hold onto his jacket, “goodnight, jungkook.”

he sticks his hands in his pockets, sending you another grin, “goodnight, ___.”

jungkook drives home, his empty apartment welcoming him. he plops down onto his bed, not even bothering to change out of the clothes he was in because he was that tired. the events of today running through his mind.

he hopes you don’t think he was doing anything with those five girls. he saw you walk away when you did, he tried his best to escape the conversation, but they kept pulling him back. he gave up after ten tries of trying to get away, standing there for a good fifteen minutes listening to them babble about how much they missed him. jungkook had never rolled his eyes so many times in a conversation.

the talk the two of you had after was another thing taking over his mind. your dirty flirting and your dream you mentioned in the car had his imagination running all over the place. he didn’t want to push you when you explained, but he was very curious as to what he did in your dream, and how good it was for you to have it run through your mind all day.

his phone rings next to him. he turns and opens it, a smile on his face when he reads your message.

[12:32 am] you: hi jungkookieeeeeeeee

[12:33 am] you: im sleeping noww

[12:33 am] jungkook: alright cutie

[12:33 am] jungkook: goodnight! again 😂

[12:34 am] you: goodnight <3

he turns his phone off after that. looking up to his ceiling with a dumb smile on his face. his mind thinking of you and only you.

[scribicronus-v02]

Amphibia: Birthplace (Part One)

Tag list: @karamelys, @popcornbee, @borkthemork, @themissakat, @cute-as-buttons, @maritasdump, @kaseyskat, @anti-ableists-darcywu, @cynthiacoven, @slymanner, @space-lynn, @camomile-t, @calamity-unlocked, @detentiontrack, @skibs-scribbles, @mira-blue, @pyroclastic727, @eeveearoace, @goodartitude, @yourpersonaltimebomb, @marcylore, @honneibun, @arcadiii

Before anyone asks, I actually posted this on my old blog before it got the axe so I’m not stealing Brock’s idea. Of course, I’m sure anyone and everyone has put their own spin on a future!AU where there’s a kid or two...

Special shoutout goes to @ktas-draws​ as it was their art and fan-edits that inspired me this piece.

Without further ado...

Birthplace (Part One) -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“Mom, can I ask you a question?”

Anne glanced over her shoulder to see her daughter take a seat at the dining table. “Sure, sweetie, what is it?”

“Was I adopted?”

At that, Anne nearly dropped the wooden spoon she was holding. She set the burner to low and turned to face her daughter.

“What? No! Why would you ask such a thing?”

“Well, kids at school were making fun of me, saying that my family is wrong and that I shouldn't exist because I don't have a dad.”

Anne chuckled. “Take my word for it, sweetheart, two extra moms are much better than a dad.” She scowled. “Who are these kids that are saying these things?”

“Don't wanna say,” the little girl said with a shake of her head.

Anne pursed her lips and crossed her arms in thought.

“Tell you what,” she said after a moment, “you go park yourself on the couch and watch some TV. I gotta talk to Mommy and Mama about this.”

“You're not gonna make up a lie, are you?”

“No sweetheart,” Anne replied. “We just have to talk to see if we can agree that you're old enough to know.”

“I'm eight, Mom! I'm old enough!”

Anne smiled warmly. “Trust me, kiddo, this is something they do not teach you in school.” She walked over and kissed her daughter on the forehead. “Go on, now.” As her daughter sauntered out of the kitchen she called out. “Sash! Mar-Mar! Little bit of an emergency here!”

Sasha jogged down the stairs. “What's up?

“We gotta wait for Marcy. Want to lend me a hand with dinner while we wait?”

“I can stir whatever's in the pan,” Sasha replied, “anything more extensive than that and I'm liable to cause an explosion.”

“What about chopping vegetables?”

“Boom-Shrooms.”

Anne chuckled. “Fair point. Heat's on low, just bump it up to medium and stir occasionally.”

“Sorry,” Marcy said as she ambled into the kitchen. “Legs have been acting up today.”

“Mar-Mar, if your legs are feeling bad you should at least walk around with your crutches.”

Marcy waved off Anne's concern. “The physiotherapist says that I gotta keep moving around without crutches for as long as I can each day.”

“Yeah, her and every other physiotherapist you've had, whether they be from here or Amphibia,” Sasha groused. “All the same, you can't be overdoing it.”

“Anyway, what's up, Annie?”

Anne started chopping vegetables. “Liv just asked me if she was adopted.”

Marcy and Sasha stared at Anne. “What did you tell her?”

“That she wasn't, of course,” Anne replied. “Apparently kids at school are saying that she shouldn't exist because she doesn't have a dad.”

Sasha glowered. “That's damn rude. I'm talking to the principal first thing in the morning.”

“Hold on, Sash,” Marcy interrupted. “Anne, you want to take this one?”

“I was thinking that Sash and I both go.” Anne shot a sidelong glance at the blonde. “No swords.”

“Killjoy,” Sasha murmured with a grin.

“What are we gonna tell Liv, then?”

“I don't want to lie to her,” Marcy answered, “but at the same time, is she still too young to know?”

“It's not like we haven't taken her there before, Sasha argued.

“True but she was still a baby,” Anne countered. “And we agreed that we wouldn't take her to visit until she was older. Nobody remembers anything about Amphibia except for close family. The last thing we need is another Mister X incident.”

Sasha chuckled. “I can't believe he chased you all over the theater in wing-tip heelies.”

“Liv!” Marcy called out.

“Yes, Mommy?” The little girl poked her head into the kitchen doorway.

“Come sit, little tadpole,” Marcy replied, patting the chair next to her.

The three women looked as the little girl walked into the kitchen and sat down at the offered chair. She had tan skin, chestnut brown eyes and her hair was brown like Anne's but wavy and worn long like Marcy's, save for a lock of blonde hair on either side of her head that matched Sasha's hair.

“You want to know if you were adopted, yes?”

“Yes, Mommy,” Liv replied. “You're not going to lie to me, are you?”

Marcy chuckled. “No, baby, we're not gonna lie to you, not about this.”

“Trust me, sweetie,” Sasha jumped in, switching off the burner and taking a seat across from Marcy, “you're not adopted. Mom and I were hovering over Mommy the entire time she was pregnant with you.”

“Mom, Mama, and I are still debating whether or not you're old enough to know. I personally think you're old enough but there's a really long and secret story that only your grandparents and your Aunt Ally and Aunt Jess know.”

“Why is it secret?”

Anne chortled. “Believe me, Livvy, no one would ever believe you if you told them.”

“Tell you what, sweetheart,” Marcy chimed in, “it's Tuesday today. Give us until dinnertime on Friday. That way if we agree you're old enough to know, we can spend the weekend where we need to go. If not then we go for lunch at Mom's restaurant and we spend the weekend visiting Yāy and Khuṇ pū̀. How's that?”

The little girl frowned. “I wanna know...”

“Hey,” Sasha said, opening her arms, “come here, Livvy.”

Liv stepped out of her chair and approached Sasha, who gave her a tight hug.

“Do you know that we love you?”

“Yeah...”

“Good, because we love you very much,” Sasha continued. “If we don't tell you it's to protect you. Mom, Mommy and I wouldn't lie or hide things from you without reason. A long time ago the three of us were in the middle of some really big, weird, important thing that happened. Back then, what happened and where it happened was a lot more dangerous. The stuff that happened back then made me lose an eye...” She tapped her face just below a long scar over her right eye which was replaced by an orb of opaque pink glass.

“...It made Mom lose her arm and leg...” She pointed to Anne's prosthetic forearm, glossy white with bright blue light glowing in the gaps between panels.

“...And it made walking hard for Mommy which is why she sometimes has to walk with her crutches, or even has to be in a wheelchair some days.”

“Is it that bad?”

Sasha shook her head. “Not so much these days, my little pollywog.” She kissed Liv on the forehead. “But Mom, Mommy and I are gonna make an honest promise right now, okay?” She looked at Anne and Sasha who then approached the two. “If we agree that you're still too young then the three of us promise that on your thirteenth birthday we'll tell you everything, no holding back. Okay?”

She hesitated then counted to herself on her fingers. “Why do I gotta wait five more years?”

Marcy chuckled. “Because that's how old we were when we learned about all that stuff.”

*-----*-----*-----*-----*

“She's too young,” Theresa stated flatly. “You were too young when you first went there, why should she know at eight years old?”

“We can't keep hiding this forever,” Marcy replied, “She asked Anne yesterday if she was adopted. Some kids were making fun of her at school because she doesn't have a father.”

Theresa frowned and crossed her arms. “And you're dealing with this, how?”

“Anne and Sasha are at the school talking with the principal now.”

“Swords?”

“Anne said no.”

“Good,” Arthit piped up as he switched off one burner and began to plate the dish he was cooking. “Swords and wrist-mounted crossbows are only of use in Amphibia. They don't need to be clanking that stuff around in public here.”

“Anne's still wearing her arm though, right?”

Marcy nodded. “And yes, Sasha still keeps a stiletto dagger as a hairpin.”

Theresa smiled while Arthit pinched the bridge of his nose. “...I can never win.” He took the plate and walked past the beaded curtain into the restaurant proper.

*-----*-----*-----*-----*

“I swear, if I have to listen to that woman's condescending diatribe one more time...”

“Sash, no,” Anne cut her off as they walked into their home, “it can't be helped. Liv doesn't want to tell us or her teachers who's bullying her, and with no names, the principal can't do a thing.”

“I know, Anne. It's just frustrating that...” As Sasha turned around to look at her wife, she paused. Anne had perked up, her face screwed up in concern. Before she could ask what was going on, Anne ran past her and up the stairs. Sasha was quick to regain her wits and followed as Anne reached the den. They both burst into the room but there was no intruder.

“Anne, what...”

Sasha's inquiry fell on deaf ears as Anne approached a locked cupboard door. She took out her keys, picked out the smallest one and used it to unlock the cupboard. The two of them beheld an ornately designed music box with three gems on one side of the lid. The blue gem was blinking at a steady pace.

Without a word, Anne picked up the box, pressed the blue gem down until it clicked, turned the small key on the side of the box then opened it. With a flash of light, a portal shone into being in front of her, the other side revealing a glimpse into the world of Amphibia. A bright pink frog was seated at a desk directly across from her.

“Anne! Thank goodness! I've been trying to contact you all afternoon!”

“Sorry, Sprig,” Anne replied, “there's a little bit of an issue we're dealing with right now. How have things been? We haven't heard from you guys in a couple of weeks.”

“I wish I could say things are okay,” Sprig replied with a melancholy tone. “There was a nasty attack on the town yesterday by a herd of rampaging rhino beetles. They missed the farm but Hop Pop was on his way back from the market when they hit. He's hurt bad.”

“Sprig, I thought you and Polly were trying to get Hop Pop to take it easy these days.”

The frog gave her a nonplussed look. “Anne, this is Hop Pop we're talking about. He could be in a body cast and he'd still try to be up at four in the morning to start the daily chores.”

Anne gave him a small smile. “True.” Her face turned serious again. “How bad is it?”

“Broken arm and leg,” Sprig replied. “Considering how bad those beetles were tearing through the town I was surprised, and thankful, that he wasn't injured more.” He glanced away, a worried look on his face. “Anne, you know that Hop Pop's getting on in years. I worry that he might not have that much time left.”

Anne went pale.

“Sorry, Anne. I know you're dealing with stuff but...I kind of want to keep the family close,” Sprig continued. “Can you guys come visit this weekend?”

Anne nodded slowly, seemingly distracted. “Uhh, yeah. I...I gotta tell Mom and Dad. They'll want to know.”

“Do you think Liv will be able to visit?” the frog asked. “I know that we all agreed that everything about Amphibia should be kept a secret from her until she was older but Hop Pop hasn't seen her since she was a baby.”

At that, tears began to form in Anne's eyes. “I...” She sniffled and wiped them away. “I'll get in touch tomorrow. We have to have a family meeting.”

[omgrachwrites]

Playing The Hero - Chapter Two

Pairing: Harry Potter x Ravenclaw!Reader

Summary: Soulmates have a way of seeing and feeling each other’s emotions by a gem that is set in the palm of their hand which glows with magic. The colour of the gem on the palm of your hand, erratically changes between different colours. Unbeknownst to you, every time the gem on your soulmates palm glows blue he feels very over protective and worried. That’s just what happens when your soulmate always plays the hero. Soulmate Au

Warnings: fluff, swearing, mentions of blood, mentions of death

Words: 2282

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think, and let me know if you would like to be tagged! I love you all! xxx

masterlist

Yellow - Happy, Secure, Excited

Red - Scared, Nervous, Unsure

Grey - Stressed, Worried

Blue - Sad, Hurt, Frustrated

Orange - Overprotective

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

Chapter Two

Harry gingerly raised a hand to his swollen face, wincing as he pulled his hand back and saw that it was sticky with blood; it was a good thing that he didn’t have a weak stomach. Tonks had presumably done a decent job of fixing his nose because it felt as though it was straight again. It was still extremely sore, though not as bad as it had been when Malfoy had stamped on it.

Harry sighed, dragging his feet across the moonlit lawn as he followed Snape who was walking ahead of him, his long black cloak billowing out behind him, making him look like a vampire bat. The late summer breeze blew across the castle grounds like a whisper. Harry could hear Snape’s monotone voice but he manged to block out all the words – it was no doubt a lecture – after five long years of suffering in Snape’s class, it was a skill that Harry had managed to acquire.

After what felt like an eternity, he walked into the castle and a great sense of relief washed over him as the candlelight in the Entrance Hall reflected on the glass of his glasses. He smiled, he finally felt like he was home. As he looked down at his gem he beamed when he saw that it was glowing bright yellow. Y/N was standing in the doorway of The Great Hall, clutching a huge, warty croaking toad. She smiled as she glanced up; the smile soon fell from her face when she nervously looked at Snape before honing on in the state of Harry’s face.

“Merlin, Harry! What the hell happened to your face?!” Harry opened his mouth to reply, Y/N’s worried face making an unfamiliar feeling churn in the pit of his stomach.

Snape’s lip curled as hissed beneath his breath, clenching his teeth, “in, both of you!”

Y/N frowned at him, a muscle fluttering in her jaw, “I was just asking if he was okay, what’s the problem with that?” Harry bit his tongue so he wouldn’t suddenly burst out into peals of laughter.

Snape’s nostrils flared as he narrowed his eyes and whispered in a deadly voice, “don’t make me tell you again, Y/L/N!”

Y/N and Harry exchanged a scowl at Snape’s expense before they walked into The Great Hall. A gasp seemed to ripple through the sea of students as they all turned to look at Harry’s face. He swallowed nervously before fiddling with his sleeves and he glanced over at Y/N. She smiled softly at him as the toad croaked in her hands.

“Is that Trevor?” he laughed.

Y/N giggled, “yeah, you know that Neville is always losing him. Though, it did take me ages to find him, maybe a Hufflepuff could have helped more.”

“Well, I’ve heard that Hufflepuffs are exceptionally good finders,” he smirked making Y/N burst out into laughter.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that too,” she paused and bit her lip, “what happened to your face?”

Harry sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets, for some reason he didn’t want to tell her, “how do I look? I mean does my face look fairly normal?”

It sounded like Y/N was choking back her laughter and she shrugged, “apart from all the blood over it, it looks fine.”

Harry was very relieved that his face would heal properly, “Malfoy did it,” he muttered but didn’t elaborate.

A look of understanding passed over her face and she glanced over at Malfoy who was guffawing and pointing at Harry, “I see,” she sighed, “I’ll see you later, Harry. I’m gonna go and give Trevor back to Neville,” she nodded at the worried looking boy who was sitting further up the Gryffindor table.

“Bye, Y/N,” Harry smiled and watched her walk up to Neville, Neville’s face lit up as Y/N passed him Trevor and he clutched his toad close to his chest. It looked like he was about to cry. He smiled as he sat next to Ron and Hermione.

Hermione gasped as she looked at his face, “what happened?!”

On the other hand, a grin slowly spread across Ron’s freckled face, “I think that you look badass, mate,” Ron clapped him on the shoulder and Harry couldn’t help but grin, being careful to not split his lip again.

“That’s not funny, Ron!” Hermione gave Ron a sharp look as her eyebrows shot up her forehead before she folded her arms and looked questioningly at Harry.

Unfortunately, Harry could hardly say because he was painfully aware of Ginny and Dean staring at him, “I’ll tell you later,” he shook his head.

Ron leaned closer to him, “have you heard the awful news? Snape is the new Defence against the Dark Arts Professor.”

Harry’s blood turned to ice, in what world could Dumbledore let Snape have that post? “ugh, great just great. At least he’ll be gone by the end of term,” he ignored Hermione’s gasps as he pulled a plate of treacle tart towards him.

Even the mere succulent smell of his favourite dessert considerably lifted his spirits, unfortunately he only managed to stuff a heap full of the sticky dessert into his mouth before the food disappeared, leaving the golden plates sparkling and spotless. He groaned through his mouthful of food as he tried his best to savour it before he rolled his eyes and got to his feet.

As Prefects, Ron and Hermione walked ahead of him to lead the new Gryffindors up to the common room. However, Harry noticed that Malfoy was still seated at the Slytherin table, completely throwing away the chance to bully the new Slytherins. Before Harry could muse upon it any further, a sleepy musical voice reached his ears.

“Hi Harry.”

Harry turned his head to see Luna and Y/N; as usual Luna was carrying a copy of the Quibbler, her dad’s magazine. She was wearing her huge radish earrings and she’d slid her wand through her dirty blonde hair, “Hello, Luna, how was your summer?”

“Dad and I went to find Nargles,” Harry glanced over Luna’s head to look at Y/N, she was looking at Luna lovingly but her shoulders were shaking with silent laughter. When Y/N met Harry’s eyes she almost lost it, “will the DA be meeting this year?”

Harry shook his head, “there’s no need now that Umbridge has gone,” he shrugged. Snape was the new Defence against the Dark Arts Professor – he’d always wanted the post – and Harry hated that fact. But hopefully they would be at least learning some defensive magic this year and Harry would be one step closer to fulfilling his ambition of becoming an Auror.

He watched Luna’s face fall with a sharp pang of guilt, he’d never really seen Luna upset before, “oh, I see.”

Y/N spoke up quickly to diffuse the tension and she smiled at Luna, rubbing her arm, “you guys will still be friends though, right?” she gave Harry a meaningful look.

He winced as the gem on his palm quickly burned, sending a sharp pain up his arm, he glanced down at it to see that it was glowing orange. He quickly glanced back up at the girls and offered Luna a small smile, “of course.”

Luna nodded, “I’d like that,” she smiled serenely, looking a lot happier.

The three of them said their goodbyes as they went to their separate common rooms and Harry smiled as he climbed through the portrait hole. Hermione already had her head in a book, in the comfortable armchairs that were seated next to the roaring fireplace. Ron glanced at Harry as he entered the warm common room and he shook his head.

“Bloody nuts she is,” he muttered, “c’mon let’s leave her to it,” as they climbed the stone steps, Ron turned to Harry, “what took you so long?”

“I ran into Luna and Y/N.”

Ron smirked, his ears turning red, “do you actually have a crush on Y/N?”

Harry shook his head as he ran a hand through his thick messy hair, “I mean she’s nice and all but I hardly know her and I’m not interested in dating anyone at the minute, not after what happened with Cho.”

Ron whistled, “yeah, that was a bad one.”

“Fuck off, mate.”

Ron pretty much fell asleep and began snoring as soon as his head hit the pillow but Harry stayed awake for a little, grinning into the darkness like a maniac. He was so glad to be back at Hogwarts, this was the first time that he felt truly complete since Sirius died.

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

Before walking into the dungeons on the first day back at school, you braced yourself before walking into the usual gloomy room that normally had disgusting things floating around in jars. It always felt really hot and stuffy that didn’t make for a great lesson. However, you were pleasantly surprised when you walked into the dungeons to see that it felt somehow light and airy and pleasant smells were wafting all around the room.

Even Slughorn with his friendly grin had a good aura about him and you couldn’t help but feel very relieved. You smiled as Slughorn greeted you and Neville as you made your way to the front desk where all the cauldrons were emitting their steam. There was one potion in particular that was producing the most gorgeous smell, silver vapour rose from the cauldron. You leaned closer to it and took a huge deep breath of it, feeling slightly lightheaded, the potion smelled of Butterbeer, wood from a new broomstick and another scent that you couldn’t place.

“Doesn’t this potion smell of Butterbeer? It smells so good,” you sighed happily as you glanced at Neville.

Neville gave you a strange look as his eyebrows knitted together in a frown, “it doesn’t smell of Butterbeer, it smells like freshly cut roses and vanilla.”

You scoffed, what the hell was wrong with Neville’s sense of smell? However, before you could argue with him about it, Slughorn began the lesson and started running through the different potions that were on his desk. To your extreme annoyance before he could tell you about the one that smelled like Butterbeer, the door to the dungeons opened quietly, interrupted Slughorn’s speech.

Next to you, you could see Lavender Brown perk up and she was gazing at something with wide eyes, and when you followed her line of vision you discovered that she was staring at Ron Weasley. You smirked to yourself as you glanced at Harry who was giving Slughorn an apologetic look.

“Harry, m’boy! I was beginning to worry that you wouldn’t be coming!” Slughorn boomed with an easy grin on his pudgy face.

“Yes Sir, I’m sorry that we’re late, you see, we haven’t got our books or supplies yet. We didn’t know that we’d be here,” Harry bit his lip nervously as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

However, Slughorn waved Harry’s worries away like this sort of thing happened all of the time, “not to worry, get what you need from the cupboard.”

Harry nodded and he smiled gently at you as he slipped past you on the way to the supply cupboard where there was a lot of loud banging for the next couple of moments. You rolled your eyes and glanced over your shoulder and you had to cough to cover up your laughter when you saw the two best friends fighting over a book. It seemed that Ron had one the fight because Harry smacked Ron’s hand with the heavy potions book.

As Harry walked past you, you glanced down at the book to see the yellowing pages and the scribbles that were across the front cover, “lovely,” you laughed.

Harry chuckled as he rolled his eyes, waving the book around, “you’re telling me, a fat lot of good this book will do me.”

It turned out that the ruined book did do Harry a lot of good because the object of today’s lesson was to brew The Draught of Living Death and a little vial of liquid luck would go to the best potion. Seamus blew up his cauldron, Neville’s potion smelled so bad that you had to stuff a wad of tissue up your nose to get yourself some relief from the horrible smell, and in the end it was Harry’s potion that came out on top. You felt mean for even thinking it but you wondered how Harry had got so good at potions. Maybe it was due to the fact that Slughorn actually liked him and he wasn’t looking for an excuse to take away as many points as he could.

You caught up with Harry as you were walking out of the dungeons, “hey, that must have been one hell of a potion; I thought Slughorn was going to start snogging your cauldron.”

Harry snickered as he shrugged running a hand through his hair, “you’re not pissed at me too are you?”

You frowned as you tilted your head, you had no reason to be, sure it would have been nice if you would have won the luck potion but you potions weren’t really your strong suit, “no,” you trailed off, “I’m not pissed at you, even if you did cheat,” you laughed, turning around so you were walking backwards.

For a fraction of a second, Harry’s emerald eyes widened before he covered it up with a smile, “I didn’t cheat, you’re just mad that I’m better at potions than you,” he teased.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see, Potter.”

“Is that a challenge, Y/L/N?” he smirked, raising his eyebrow.

“You bet it is!” you laughed, sticking your middle finger up at him before disappearing into the crowd.

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

@annemagus @smiithys @elayneblack @amelie-black @pregnant-piggy @justadreamyhufflepuff @esmelily123 @firewhiskyss​ @potters-heart​ 

[regretthatsme]

Looney's Sister - Harry Potter x Fem!Lovegood!Reader

That's right bitches, bros, and nonbinary hoes. I'm back. I'm so happy that I finished a oneshot. AAAAAAHHHHHHHH! I'm sorry I've taken so long to post. But, it's here now!

Harry didn't know when his fondness for Luna's sister, Y/N, started. He just knew that he liked her a lot. They were quite good friends, actually. A few years ago, she saw him struggling with herbology, which just so happened to be Y/N's strong suit. It quite convenient honestly, especially when you consider the fact that Y/N was have issues in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

He knew from the start that his feelings for her were more than platonic. What he didn't expect was for him to fall so hard. But, how could he not when she was so perfect.

Her bubbly personality was so inviting and warm. Her eyes made e/c his favorite color. He adored her laugh; it sounded like a beautiful melody. Her smile was just as stunning.

Godric, I'm whipped, he thought. There was one issue, though. He couldn't for the life of him ask her out, ironic for a Gryffindor. What if she doesn't like me? How do I ask her out?

His mind would race into the late hours of the night, wondering how he would work up the courage to ask her out. He knew she wouldn't like something big and extravagant, for she had trouble processing lots of information at once, much like her sister. Her sister!

Harry wondered how he never thought of asking Luna before. I mean, their personalities mirrored each other almost perfectly. He quickly ran to the forbidden forest. Luna spent most of her time there.

"Hello, Harry." A dreamy voice called to him.

"Hello, Luna."

"Is there a reason you are here?"

"Umm... yeah." Harry's face became very hot suddenly, a stark contrast to the nippy weather that morning. "I-uh. I should probably come right out and say it, shouldn't I?"

"Yes, that would be most appreciated." Luna responded. Harry couldn't tell if she was sarcastic or not.

"I've fallen deeply in love with your sister, and I was wondering if you knew how I could ask her out."

Luna was clear shocked by this revelation. She thought for a few minutes before replying, "I appreciate your honesty, however I cannot say that I am too pleased with it."

Harry's face fell slightly. "What does that mean?"

"Harry, she's recently had her heart broken by another. I'm sorry, but I do not trust you with her love."

-*-*-*-

He knew he shouldn't be over thinking this. He knew that it was pointless. He knew it was only going to give him stress, but he couldn't stop as much as he tried. Who would dare hurt her? Her? The most caring, beautiful person in Hogwarts?

Needless to say, Harry's eyes were sporting some serious under eye bags the next morning.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Asked Hermione during breakfast, noting the discoloration under her friend's eyes.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"He was up late last night." Said his best friend and roommate, Ronald Weasley.

"No, I wasn't, Ron."

"Okay. Fine. You went to bed at a reasonable time." Ron said before turning to Hermione and mouthing No he didn't. Harry was about to retaliate before a small body sat down next to him. A dreamy voice rendered his speech effectively useless as a flush filled his cheeks.

"Hello Hermione, Ron. Good morning, Harry." She addressed each individually, as she always does. "How are we this morning?"

Ron smirked a small bit at his friend's face. "Oh, I'm splendid." He remarked, chuckling slightly at his friend's state. "What about you, Harry?"

Y/N seemed to perk up at the name. Her head turned to him, only now noticing the rosy hue on his cheeks. "Oh dear, you don't look so well." Her voice was distinctly quieter, almost as if she only wanted him to hear. Her hand slowly came up to feel his forehead. "You're absolutely scalding! And it's clear you haven't gotten any sleep."

She panicked slightly.

Ron tried to hold in a laugh. "Oh, yes. Harry was hacking and wheezing last night. It was horrible."

Harry's eyes were about the size of saucers. "What are you doing?" He whispered.

"Trust me." He mouthed back.

"He's in no shape to go to class. Someone must take care of him." Harry just realized what Ron was trying to do. Wanker.

"I would, but Hermione and I have a test first period." Hermione nodded too, quickly becoming aware of his scheme. "Looks like you're going to need to take care of him. I really wish I could help."

Y/N's eyes never left Harry's face. "Be sure to tell the teachers about Harry's predicament." She said as she dragged him out of the great hall, despite his protests. She knew the password was as she was a frequenter of the Gryffindor common room. He was led to his dorm and was forced onto the bed.

"Y/N, I'm gonna tell you one more time. I'm not-"

"Shhhhhh." She cut him off. "Harry, relax. I can't remember the last time you did." She did have a point. He couldn't remember the last time he had a stress free hour, much less day. "I'm going to go to the kitchen and whip up something. Get some rest, alright?" He nodded his head. His eyelids slowly fluttered and closed. He didn't really dream, but he felt a sort of presence. It felt like a giant hug.

He didn't know how long he had been asleep, but he woke to the sound of Y/N closing his bedroom door. "I made a soup with some clowort root mixed in. It should help with your symptoms." She said. "And, there is some water to wash it all down."

"You never cease to amaze me." He said rather bluntly in his sleepy delirium. He took a spoonful of the soup. It tasted quite like the food in the great hall, but there was something distinctly different from it. There was an unmistakable taste of... home. He quickly went for more.

"Slow down, Harry!" Y/N's volume raised ever so slightly. "Consuming large amounts of clowort root can lead to some unwanted side effects."

"Like what?"

She gestured for him to lead forward, as if telling him a secret. "People tend to make quite irrational decisions when copious amounts of clowort are in their system." She pulled back and gave a stern yet loving gaze.

"I don't know. I've eaten a decent amount and I don't feel a thing." He said indifferently. She simply rolled her eyes and looked away from him.

"Hey. I uh... I heard from Luna that you had some trouble with a boy and I'm here if you need to talk or anything." He knew that he probably shouldn't invite his crush to talk openly about a romantic partner she had, but he would listen to her talk about anything and everything just to hear her voice.

"Oh. It's nothing. Just a stupid fling that hadn't even lasted a month." Y/N said, her eyes becoming more solemn looking.

"It's just... if I had a girlfriend," especially one as perfect as you, "I would treat her better than that."

"I can see the brash decision making has already taken effect." Y/N jokes lightly, but only was laughing at it.

"I'm serious, you know." He said, grabbing her hand and lacing her fingers through his.

"Harry, you're not thinking straight-"

"Ever since we met each other and you helped me with your helped me with my homework. You were so kind."

"Harry, please don't-"

"I understand if you don't feel the same way, I wouldn't be so keen on falling in love someone who nearly dies every other weekend either, but I needed you to-"

"Harry." Her voice was ferm enough to cut off his incoherent ramblings. Her thumb brushed against the back of his hand. "You're not well. You're saying things you don't mean-"

"No, I'm not-"

"Harry, I can't have my heart broken again." Her eyes held a certain glossiness to it that he hadn't seen before. Her voice was almost breaking. "You are amazing and sweet and beautiful and... well, words can hardly describe how much I admire you. But," Her eyes darted around the room, trying to avoid eye contact. "You're just doing this because you're sick and under the influence. You don't mean it-"

"Yes, I do!" Harry giggled slightly. He was getting a bit frustrated at this point. "What do I have to do to prove it to you?"

She looked deep into his emerald eyes. They say eyes are the window to the soul, and they weren't lying. Every emotion, every thought running through his pretty head, everything could be seen in them. It was so intense, she could only make eye contact for a few seconds.

"Nothing." Y/N whispered. Harry's head snapped to her. "I believe you, Harry." They sat in silence for a while, processing the revelation that just took place. It was a bit awkward. Okay, very awkward. The apprehension of the unknown was creeping upon them. Now what? Where do we go from here?

Harry was the first to make a move. He held his arm out, inviting her join him on his, rather small in hindsight, bed. She happily accepted and curled into his side. She was practically on top of him due to the size of the bed, yet he couldn't be happier. Neither could she.

Bonus:

"HARRY JAMES POTTER, WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING?" Y/N was positive that Luna's cries could be heard throughout the entire castle.

"Luna, please calm down-" She tried to console.

"GET AWAY FROM MY SISTER!"

[novaiya]

The Portrait of Charles Smith - Charles x Reader

Summary: Based on this request: Can I get Charles catching the reader drawing him? I feel like it’d be so cute to see him all bashful n embarrassed that someone finds him attractive enough to make art of. 

Words: 1369

Warnings: None.

A/N: Guess who just finished the Picture of Dorian Gray and is now making it her entire personality.

Your pencil was making swift strokes on the paper as your eyes flicked between the journal on the table and your subject. You watched his arms, muscular and thick, swing down as he chopped through a log. He used the back of his hand to wipe away the sweat from his forehead, and then reached out for another log, placing it down and once again chopping through it.

You enjoyed watching Charles work, doing different tasks around the camp such as cutting logs for the firewood, fixing up the old wagon or taking care of the horses. He did all those things with grace and ease that always captivated you and that’s why you were drawing him now. The way he was swinging down the ax captured your attention, the way his muscles flexed, and you couldn’t help but get out your journal, quickly scribbling down before he finished his chore.

“Drawing him again, aren’t you?”

You almost jumped out of your chair when you heard Tilly’s voice behind you. You were so engrossed in your thoughts and your art that you didn’t hear her approach you from behind.

“Tilly,” you breathed out, your hand on your chest, “You can just sneak up on people like that.”

“Sorry,” she said with a smile that said she really wasn’t.

You tried to discreetly push your journal to the side, but Tilly was quicker, snatching it away and looking over your sketch. You tried to pry it from her hands, but her grip was solid, and if you kept fumbling with her, you were bound to bring more attention to the two of you. So instead you huffed and turned your head to the side, not wanting to see her face as she looked over your drawing of Charles.

She said your name, making you turn back towards her. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “You have to show it to him!”

“I can’t, Tilly,” you said, shaking your head. “I have put too much of myself into it.”

“What do you mean?”

“If he sees the drawing, he’ll surely understand how I feel about him.” You took the journal from Tilly’s hands and looked over the sketch that you’ve done so far. “Every line that I have drawn is like a love confession. This drawing is nothing if not a love letter to him.”

“Love letters are meant to be sent, not kept in the sender’s possession.”

“That, you might be right about,” you said, closing your journal. You looked in the direction where Charles was chopping the logs, but he was gone now. You’d have to find another opportunity to finish the portrait.

It was a few days later when an opportunity presented itself. You have just finished your chores for the day, and saw Charles by the hitching posts, tending to the horses. He was, as always, engrossed in his work, oblivious to you as you took a seat in by a tree nearby, taking out your journal and drawing him.

The shade from the tree kept you cool and safe from the sun's rays as you sat against it. With the journal in your lap and the pencil in your hands, you went to work, continuing where you left off. The portrait, at that point, was almost finished, it just needed some minor alterations with the shading and the details.

Charles was none the wiser, you thought, as you kept looking at him, memorizing every detail that made him him and transporting it onto the paper. When you told Tilly that every line that you drew was like a love confession, you weren’t exaggerating. If someone was to see the portrait, they would easily tell that it was made by someone who loved Charles. The attention to details, to every freckle, wrinkle and scar, could only be done by someone who loved the subject, loved Charles.

“Tilly was right, it is a beautiful portrait.”

Your head snapped up to where the voice came from. Charles was leaning against the tree, looking down at you, a soft smile on his lips. You could practically feel your face heat up and your heart beat wildly against your rib cage. The mix of embarrassment and surprise that flooded through your veins was so strong, you felt you were gonna faint.

You turned to look at your journal, and then at Charles, stammering and trying to think of something to say. Should you apologize? Give him the drawing? Mount one of the horses and ride out into the sunset?

In the distance, the sound of camp could be heard; a mix of chatter, arguments, and laughter. But where the two of you were, it was quiet, and Charles swore he could hear the sound of your heartbeat against your chest.

He sat down next to you so he could better look at the journal in your hands. The drawing was indeed beautiful, just like Tilly said a few days ago. She pulled him away from his chores to tell him about the portrait that you’ve been drawing, and how beautiful it was and that he should see it. He thought that she might’ve been pulling his leg. A portrait of him? Who would in their right mind spend time to draw him, of all the people, he thought. Seems that that person is you.

After a moment of silence, you mustered up the courage and said, “Do you like it?”

He chuckled and replied, “I do, but…” he trailed.

“But?”

“It’s too beautiful, and I’m anything but that.”

“The portrait doesn’t lie, Charles. I simply captured what I saw.”

Both of you were surprised at your boldness, and Charles asked, “Is this how you see me?”

Charles wasn’t the most confident man when it came to his looks. He was confident in his strength, in his intelligence and his skills, but beauty wasn’t one of them. He was okay, he thought, not the worse, but also not handsome by any standards. So to see this portrait, and see the love with which it was drawn, to see all the details that you paid attention to such as his scars, his lips, his eyes, it struck him.

After a moment of silence you replied, “It is, Charles. You’re beautiful, don’t deny it.”

Despite seeing the portrait you’ve drawn, he was still surprised to actually hear you say it. The words left him speechless, and he found himself averting his gaze, a light shade of pink already making its way to his cheeks.

The effect of your words didn’t go unnoticed by you. You reached out and placed your hand on his cheek, turning his attention back to you. How could he think he was not beautiful, you couldn’t understand. You traced a scar on his cheek with your fingers; you wondered where he got it. You took liberty, and traced his lower lip with your thumb; his lips were big and plump, and you have caught yourself way too many times thinking about how they’d feel against your own, the same thought now coming back full force.

You wetted your lips by an instinct, the act not going unnoticed by Charles who kept his eyes on you the entire time. You raised your gaze, and your eyes met. The air was thick with tension as you inched closer towards each other, more and more, until you met, your lips colliding against each other.

Your imagination couldn’t do this moment justice; it felt so much better than anything you could imagine. His lips were soft and gentle against yours, and the kiss itself was nothing if not tender and soothing. Your journal fell on the ground, forgotten, as your hands made their way to Charles’ hair, tangling your fingers in his locks and bringing him closer to you, deepening the kiss. One of his own hands was on your cheek, caressing your skin, wanting nothing more than to memorize the feeling of you.

If the two of you weren’t busy exploring each other’s mouths, you’d see, in the distance, Tilly smiling to herself, proud of her work as a cupid. You’d have to thank her later, she thought. Maybe you could draw her a portrait.

[heymacy]

I love all those sentence prompts you just posted.😂 But I feel like the most appropriate one is probably:

“So why did I have to punch that guy?”

Thank you Arrow!! 💗

Ridiculous Sentence Prompts: "So why did I have to punch that guy?"

--

There were only a few things left in the world that made Mickey really, really angry.

The first was their property manager, Melanie, and her stupid-ass dog with its stupid, stupid diaper.

The second was the fact that a single can of beer cost four times more on the West Side than it did back in their old neighborhood. What special brand of bullshit were these crunchy granola hippies trying to churn out at the Wine, Etc. store, anyway?

The third thing, and probably the only one that would stick around after he adjusted to his new life above the poverty line, was any time that anyone disrespected, hurt, or even mildly annoyed his husband.

Every time they dealt with an irritating client or an overzealous new employee, Mickey would clench his teeth and fight the urge to knock them on their ass. One hit was all it would take, he knew that for certain. He'd taken down Ian's exes, family members, hell, even Ian himself on a few occasions, with a single punch to the throat.

Now, he was an adult, a business owner, a husband and partner that needed to play by society's rules if they were ever going to crawl out of the gutter completely.

The very idea made Mickey's teeth ache.

He bit his bottom lip while they sat side-by-side in their booth at the Alibi, waiting for some schmuck to meet them for an interview.

"We need to start interviewing the guys we hire, Mickey," Ian had said one night while cooking dinner. He chopped the carrots and celery on the wooden cutting board while Mickey sat slumped on the couch, nursing a beer and watching a TikTok Mandy had sent him earlier that day.

He looked up at his husband as he watched an orange and white cat chow down on kibble after his automatic feeder malfunctioned.

Mandy 🌻 (6:09pm): plz tell ian this is him in cat form

Mickey snorted at his phone, barely registering Ian's comment.

"Mick?" Ian tried again, and Mickey looked up from his phone.

"Hmm?" he replied through a mouthful of beer.

"I said we need to start interviewing the guys we hire," Ian said again, using the knife to scrape the carrots and celery off of the cutting board and into the giant pot he had boiling on the stove. Mickey wasn't sure what he was making, but it smelled amazing.

"What for? Those resumé things ain't good enough for you?" Mickey's mouth quirked up on the side as he tried to hide a smirk.

Ian rolled his eyes and used the comically oversized wooden spoon to stir his soup.

"No, Mick. So we don't have another Connor situation."

Mickey snorted. Connor was a dipshit they'd hired back in April to help with pickups, a dipshit that had cost the company almost $2,500 after he "forgot" to make the deposit with Ian and Mickey at the end of his scheduled route.

"I mean, his name's Connor. Kinda feel like you should've known what you were walkin' in to with that one."

"I'm serious," Ian said. "Interviews. We gotta do 'em." He stirred the soup vigorously, the spoon clanking against the side of the pot with every twist.

Mickey sighed deeply and rolled his eyes.

"Fine, we'll interview some new guys. But we're not doing it at a Starbucks or some shit. I'm not ready to go full West Side." He scrunched up his nose and made a face, to which Ian just chuckled.

"Glad you're on board," he teased, getting back to work on his soup, which had started to bubble.

--

Kev and Vee had moved to Louisville a month before, transferring ownership of the bar to Carl and Officer Tipping, who promised to keep everything just as it was. It gave Mickey a sense of calm knowing that even as the rest of his old neighborhood was slipping away, his adolescent stomping grounds now littered with coffee shops and yoga studios, some things remained the same.

He ran his fingers along the familiar crack in the table, a sharp sensation prodding the pads of his fingertips and helping him forget, even temporarily, what they were there to do.

Ian smacked the back of Mickey's hand gently.

"Stop it," he said, referring to the way Mickey was two seconds away from giving himself a splinter.

Mickey huffed and rolled his eyes.

"What's this guy's name again?"

Ian looked at his phone where he had an email pulled up. He glanced over the message then scrolled to the bottom.

"Derek," he said plainly.

"Derek," Mickey mocked, and Ian whacked him in the chest with the back of his hand.

"Knock it off," he said, and Mickey rolled his eyes again.

"Whatever. He's late anyway, let's just bail and go get some pizza."

"He's not late, Mickey. It's only..." he looked at his watch. "3:58. He's got three minutes until he's late."

Just then, as if summoned by Ian's voice, a tall, lanky, blond man walked through the front door of the bar and made his way towards the back corner booth where Ian and Mickey sat.

"You guys Ian and Mackie?"

Ian snorted as he tried to hide his laughter. Mickey rolled his eyes a third time, this time so hard that it was honestly impressive he didn't snap his optic nerves in the process.

"Mickey," Ian corrected politely. He nudged his husband with his elbow and the two of them climbed out of the booth to meet with their interviewee.

Ian shook his hand firmly.

"I'm Ian, and this is my husband Mickey." He smiled and turned to Mickey, who was standing with his hands in his pockets and giving Derek, all six feet two inches of him, an intense once-over. Elbowing his husband for a second time, Mickey relented, pulling his hands from his pockets and reaching out to shake Derek's hand. His giant palm was cold and clammy but also somehow uncomfortably hot. Mickey grimaced.

"Hey," he said gruffly. "Mickey."

"Derek," the other man said as they shook hands. "So you two are married?"

Ian nodded.

"Little over a year now, yeah."

Derek nodded.

"Cool, cool, cool," he said, nodding and looking around. "So this place is...interesting."

The judgmental and condescending way Derek said "interesting" wasn't new or unusual to either of them, but tall lanky blond bitches with North Side energy and a terrible fade saying "interesting" like they wanted to say "disgusting" made Mickey's blood boil.

He clenched his fist without even realizing what he was doing. Ian noticed immediately when Mickey's shoulders tensed up, stiffening in a way that reminded Ian of a startled cat, and he turned to climb back in the booth. He squeezed Mickey's arm once, twice, and dragged him down into the booth with him.

"It was a family friend's place," Ian said, nonchalant, eager to move the conversation away from the Alibi and towards their business. "So, Derek, on your resume, I see that you worked--"

Derek cut Ian off mid-sentence.

"Have they ever thought about turning this place into some sort of art installation or something? Just with the open floor plan and the exposed pipes, it's very pseudo-industrial-chic."

If they hadn't already assumed before by his distinct vocal fry and the smell of coconut hair gel, Derek's use of the term "pseudo-industrial-chic" solidified what the other two already knew: there were three gay motherfuckers in this booth.

Ian stuttered for a second, surprised by Derek's interjection and resistance to changing the subject.

"Don't think so, no." He grabbed his phone and opened up the Gmail app again. "So, anyway, your resume says you worked at--"

"You know what would be really cool in here? A movement class. I went to one in LA once that was hosted by Gwyneth Paltrow and it was liberating."

Mickey snorted and Ian elbowed him in the ribs.

"I bet it was," Ian said, unamused at Derek's refusal to talk about his work history. "So you worked at--"

"Have you guys ever been to LA? Oh my god, it's the best. So chic. I mean, I'm from Evanston originally, so basically anything is chic in comparison. I mean, not here, obviously, but you know. Other places."

Ian sighed.

"Totally," he said. "So, your work history, it says--"

"Hey, do you guys know what the best dispensary is around here? Preferably something upscale, with those iPads you can order on. I need a few new carts--"

"Dude," Mickey cut in. "Can you shut the fuck up for five seconds?"

Derek looked surprised, and Mickey could hear Ian's sharp, apprehensive inhale.

"Excuse me?" Derek said, holding his hand to his chest.

"He's been trying to ask you the same question since we sat down, and you won't shut the fuck up about chic cities and weed, so if you could just answer our questions, that would be great." He looked over at Ian, whose eyes were wide and hesitant, unsure about how things were about to unfold.

"You're very rude," Derek said to Mickey, giving him a scowl.

Mickey snorted.

"Yeah, tell me something I don't know."

Derek's eyes narrowed and his forehead wrinkled up, agitated.

"You should be nicer to the people you want to hire." He crossed his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

Mickey laughed out loud.

"Dude, who says we wanna hire you? I'm pretty sure if you worked for us, I'd blow my brains out in the first two minutes."

Ian tried and failed miserably to conceal his laughter, covering his mouth with his hand and looking down at the table. Mickey leaned over towards his husband.

"I kinda wanna punch this guy in the mouth," he mumbled, and Ian side-eyed him from where he sat beside him.

"Please don't," he replied in a whisper before composing himself and turning back to Derek.

"Look, Derek, you seem like a nice guy, but I don't think this is gonna work out." He held out his hand to signal that the interview was over, but Derek didn't return his handshake. Instead, he pouted like a toddler that had just been scolded for bad behavior.

"Your husband's a dick," Derek said to Ian, and Mickey could literally feel Ian's body stiffen next to him.

"Hey," Mickey said, putting his hand on Ian's knee. "Forget it. Let's go get pizza."

"No," Ian said sternly, turning back to Derek. "Listen, dude, you're also kind of a dick, so why don't we just call this a wash and you can go track down your carts or whatever."

Mickey bit his lip, fighting a smile. He secretly loved when Ian got defensive, as long as it wasn't directed towards him.

"You're both dicks!" Derek said, slamming his hands down on the table. He slid out of the booth and stood up, and Mickey and Ian did the same. The three men stood there, Derek facing the husbands with a pissed-off expression.

"You should go," Ian said, pointing at the door.

Derek snorted.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. When the ad said South Side, I knew there was a good chance the owners were a couple of trashy, ghetto assholes. But him?" He pointed at Mickey. "He's a world-class dick."

Before Derek could say anything else, he was cut off by a fist to the jaw and dropped to the floor, unconscious.

The ambient chatter and loud clacking of billiard balls came to a halt as the regulars that sat scattered around the Alibi turned in unison to see what had happened. Once they identified the source of the loud "thud" as one of the Gallagher-Milkovich boys knocking out some blond giant, they immediately turned back to their various activities.

Just another day on the South Side.

Ian cupped his right fist in his left hand and turned to Mickey, bewildered.

"I just punched that guy, Mick," he said, genuinely surprised. "I knocked him out. Shit."

Mickey shrugged.

"He kinda deserved it."

Ian looked at Mickey with a really? sort of expression and shook his head back and forth.

"Still," he said, turning to look at Derek, sprawled out unconscious on the floor like a rag doll.

"C'mon man, it's fine. He'll come to, and when he does, we'll be long gone." He grabbed Ian's upper arm and gave him a tug, but Ian just sat back down in the booth.

"Why did I do that?" he asked, but Mickey knew he was talking only to himself. He sat down beside his husband, stepping over Derek's long ass leg on his way back to the booth.

"I mean, you kinda had to."

Ian looked over at Mickey, eyebrows raised. He stared at his husband for a moment, puzzling, before breaking into a smile.

"What?" Mickey asked, confused as to how Ian could go from having some sort of moral crisis over knocking out a hipster to grinning gleefully at his husband in a half second. Ian reached over and put his hand on Mickey's thigh. Immediately, the mood shifted. Pool cues squeaked as they were chalked up and glasses clinked on the countertops. The distinct chhh-chhh sound of a spray bottle punctured Mickey's ear drums as he looked down at his husband's hand on his thigh.

"So," Ian said, voice quieter than before. "Why did I have to punch that guy?"

Mickey smirked. He could be honest, and say the obvious reason, which was that Derek was a total douche canoe and deserved to be socked in the mouth by someone his own size. He could lie, and say it was because Derek seemed dangerous and Ian was just following his instincts, but that would have been the lie of the fucking century.

Instead, he said neither, and opted for something he knew would make Ian smile.

"Because you love me."

Ian's face broke into a full grin and he giggled, leaning over to kiss his husband once, quickly, well-aware of Mickey's hesitancy towards PDA when they were out and about on the South Side.

When he pulled back, he was smirking, and Mickey knew his cheeks were flushed. He hadn't been expecting the kiss, however brief it was, and his stomach felt a little fluttery.

"I mean, I'm not the kind of guy that just stands by and lets people talk shit about the man he loves." He grinned and Mickey rolled his eyes, remembering Ian telling him about the last words he'd said to Glittery Twink Byron the night they'd gotten engaged.

"You're a fuckin' sap, man."

"True," Ian said, standing up from the booth and stepping over Derek's leg as Mickey had done minutes before. He reached out his hand and pulled his husband from the booth. The two of them stood there momentarily, staring at Derek's lump of a body on the sticky, peanut-shell covered floor.

"Should we like, do something?" Mickey asked, kicking Derek's foot with his own boot. The man didn't move a muscle. Mickey wondered for a second if he might be dead, but the shallow rise and fall of the douche canoe's chest let him know that unfortunately, for all of humankind, the asshole was still alive.

Ian shook his head.

"Nah, he can sleep it off."

He reached down and took Mickey's hand in his own.

"C'mon," he said as he dragged them both towards the door. "Let's go get pizza."

[nostalgiabones]

Starting Line // L.H

It feels like SO long since I last did or posted any writing, but solo Luke has pulled me out of the woodwork! I’m so so proud of his new project and love Starting Line so much that it finally inspired me to write something. I feel like I’m a bit rusty with writing so thank you so much @calumrose and @calpops for helping me out with it! I hope you enjoy this & I would love to hear any thoughts on it!

Falling asleep next to Luke has become so normal, so part of your daily routine that when he’s not there, your body knows. The moments through the night where you’re briefly pulled from sleep for whatever reason no longer feel like disturbances when you’re met with the sight of Luke asleep next to you, instantly soothing you back to sleep. All you had to do was reach out, and he was never far away — a gentle kiss to assure you he was right there.

There’s no such sight tonight though.

The bedroom is dark, so for a moment you feel as though your eyes are tricking you, as Luke is always there. Although, there’s a small trickle of light through the room, streaming through the crack of the bedroom door, and it’s then you realise Luke must not have made it to bed yet. Petunia isn’t curled up in her bed at the far side of the room either, and you know she’s doing so in the studio down the hall.

It’s been several months since quarantine and lockdown began, and your lives have been turned upside down — forced to stay at home, tours cancelled and many, many virtual interviews taking over his life. At first Luke wrote over Zoom calls, and took his ideas into the studio when things opened up a little, but there was a constant nagging in the back of his mind that he needed something more. His mind was swirling with ideas that didn’t quite fit into what the band were doing. He’d had too much time at home, too much time to think, and he needed somewhere to put it so he could process it for himself. He’s too creative, he thinks too much — he needs an outlet.

Slipping out of bed, you grab one of Luke’s discarded hoodies, managing to put it on as you walk through the room still half asleep. It’s sometime in the early hours, but when Luke gets fixated on an idea, time is irrelevant. The light from the hall hurts your eyes, such a stark contrast from the dark bedroom. Your footsteps are quiet as you pad down the hall, not wanting to disturb him, but missing the familiar warmth of him sleeping next to you.

Standing in the doorway, he doesn’t acknowledge your presence — too focused on the keys in front of him, engrossed in what he’s playing. You faintly recognise the tune but now it has lyrics, he’s singing — and then you realise that why he’s not yet in bed. He’s hunched over the piano, his phone open next to him, assuming he’s recording little parts to play back later. There’s a lamp switched on in the corner, softening the room with a warm glow.

“I feel the walls are closing, I’m running out of time…” Luke’s tone is soft, almost like he’s mumbling, out of fear of waking you, or he’s just singing to himself. “I think I missed the gun at the starting line..”

You can just make out the words, and realise it’s purely his emotions - I feel, I think… and a part of you is relieved that he’s getting it down on paper, releasing his worries in the way he knows best. He gets too caught up in trying to understand himself sometimes, yet he avoids it too.

“Hey, rockstar,” You try to get his attention. When Luke lifts his head from the keyboard, there’s a concerned look on his face that he woke you up. There’s a smile too though, an amused one that always appears whenever you use that nickname. He gestures for you to come over, scooting along the bench of the piano so you could join him. You do — sitting as close as you could, resting your cheek on his shoulder as he wraps an arm around your back to keep you there. You wearing his clothes never gets old to him - it’s a reminder that whatever he has is also yours, that he wants to share everything with you; including whatever is on his mind. He hears you yawn and pulls you in closer, suddenly craving the feeling you came in search of, of being next to you.

“Sorry if I woke you,” Luke murmurs, his lips brushing your forehead in a silent hello. You shake your head, a free hand landing on his thigh in a reassuring gesture to say that it’s okay. “I didn’t realise what time it was.”

“You didn’t,” You reply, voice hoarse from the few hours of sleep that you did get. “I always wake up when you’re not next to me. You okay? That song sounds kinda sad.”

He laughs a little, looking at his phone to make sure he’s stopped the voice recording. “It’s not meant to be sad, more... reflective. It’s only acoustic so far, but I think I’ve got the lyrics down.”

He softly plays a few keys as you sit there, the gentle sound in combination with Luke humming under his breath next to you already sending you back to sleep. “You gonna send it to Ash to help out with the drums? Or are you leaving it acoustic?”

Luke hums thoughtfully, almost like he’s reluctant to tell you the answer — whether he’s sure he wants to say it out loud, because that makes it real. “I actually wasn’t going to involve them in this one.”

And there it is.

You had wondered if he’d ever go down this road himself, remembering how he had been inspired by Ashton’s solo works. Luke has been tied to the band since his early teens, he’s grown up in the band and barely had time to breathe until the last few months at home. You know he’s happy with the songs he’s written with the guys so far, but had the feeling he was wanting something a little more.

“How come?” You prompt, and even though you have an idea, you want to hear it from him.

“I just feel like I need to make sense of a lot of things,” He explains, almost as if he’s convincing himself too. “Having all this time at home has made me think about myself and who I am compared with who I used to be, and I need somewhere to work it out. I figured music is the best way to do that.”

He expects a bigger reaction from you, like it’s something so out of the norm that you’d question if he’s doing the right thing — but you don’t. You nod, and take one of his hands in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze, to ease the nerves you sense he has.

“Well, you said it’s reflective, and what better time to reflect than when the world is at a standstill? I know you can create something amazing.” You assure him, the words whispered against his shoulder, and it’s all the convincing he needs. “Trust yourself, Luke. You’re way more talented than what you give yourself credit for.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his cheek resting on your head, just basking in the silence for a little while. As soon as he started to write this song there had been a nagging feeling at the back of his mind, that he wanted to keep it just for himself — he wanted to pour some of his anxieties into a song in the hopes of learning more about himself.

“You don’t think the guys will be offended, that I want to work on something for myself?” He asks you tentatively, and you know he already knows the answer to that.

You shake your head. “God, no, Luke. You were all very supportive of Ashton when he did Superbloom, why would it be any different for you? You know they’ll have your back no matter what. You’re best friends before anything else. You should talk to them about it, it’ll ease your mind.”

He hums in acknowledgement, a comforted smile on his lips at your words.

“Do you want to hear some more?” He asks, and you don’t even need to give him an answer. You murmur a reassurance of “of course” and he picks up again, feeling more certain of his craft now that he knows he has your support. He never doubted that you wouldn’t support him in whatever he wanted to do, but he thinks too much — he struggles to make sense of his thoughts, and it prompts him even more to want to create art from it.

You can already see how much it means to him, how he’s poured his heart into the lyrics he’s managed to put together. Throughout your relationship, you’ve gotten better at observing his feelings, and you know this is important to him. There’s pages full of scribbled lyrics in front of him, his hair is messy from running his fingers through it every time had gotten frustrated, and it’s clear he was determined to get something out of this song.

“Tell me, am I broken? I can never leave, biting on my tongue and checking if it bleeds,” He sings, the words clearer now he’s not in fear of waking you and of the words itself. “Is it lost on me? All the things I believe.”

It’s like he’s questioning himself with the lyrics as he sings, and as your eyes glance over the sheet in front of you, you notice a whole page of different thoughts and questions about everything — himself, his life and the band. All things that play on his mind constantly that he usually doesn’t have the time (or he occupies himself to avoid) to think about, all coming to the surface now the world is on pause.

“Take me alive, don’t look away until it’s gone, til it’s gone..”

Luke plays a few keys at the end before he turns to you, your face hidden against his shoulder. His fingertips brush your cheek before he lifts your face to look at him, and he’s not sure whether to smile or not when he’s met with unshed tears lining your eyes.

“Baby,” He murmurs, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours, his thumb softly brushing the first tear away as he slides down your cheek. “What’s with the tears?”

“That song is really beautiful,” You reply, sniffling to try and contain your emotions a little. He brushes his lips against yours in a sweet kiss, a sign of both his love and gratitude — and if just the first song has that affect on you, he knows he needs to pursue what’s in his heart. “It’s so pure, and so you. And I can’t wait to see what else you come up with.”

He feels like crying at your words and doesn’t know how to thank you enough for how supported you make him feel, no matter what he’s doing. “I love you, honey. Thanks for being on this journey with me.”

“Where else would I be?”

And when he finally makes it to bed, with you in his arms and a full heart, he’s content — he knows what he needs to pursue, and with you by his side, he knows he can do anything.

Don’t look away until it’s gone.

***

So there we are! I’d love to hear any feedback, I feel like I’m out of practice at writing lmao 🥺 Also I’m starting a new taglist, so if you’d like to be added to my new one, please fill out this Google form!

Masterlist

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[tinysushimark]

My Everything (HRJ)

1.7k words. (Fluff)

Sometimes you wished you could run away from college and then run a café and live with your boyfriend.

You looked up at him, he was playing on his phone, why was he so relaxed? He has finals too next week. "Renjun! Don't you have to study?" You said.

"I'm done with my course." He said looking back down at his phone.

You sighed, he was always one step ahead of you, even when you were in school he used to teach you things because he was done. Now, even in college he was done before you. Even though you had different majors, you had the same college and fortunately, your classes took place in the same building.

A sigh escaped from your lips as you looked at the amount of chapters left. "What's wrong baby?" Renjun said, sitting next to you.

"I have 3 more chapters left, and exams are next week." You said. "Anything i can help with?" At this you snickered.

"Babe you're an arts major, how are you going to help me with Company Law?" You smiled and looked down.

"I am smart." He said.  "I never said you're dumb."

He stood behind your chair and started massaging your shoulders and neck. "Renjun what the-" He shushed you. "Get back to work." He kept massaging your shoulders.

"Renjun stop. That fucking hurts."

"You're stressed it's all pent up-"

"I told you to fucking stop it." You shouted at him, shooting a death glare.

"Why are you being so mean? I'm just trying to help." Renjun spat at you.

"You're clearly not helping, so how about you leave? You're just adding on to my stress with your completed course." You shouted at him.

He picked his bag up and slammed the door on his way out, making you flinch a little.

Asshole, that's the only word that came to your head once he left. His temper is very very short. Sometimes you wondered why you dated him and got annoyed at him. You had noticed how nowadays, the way he dealt with you had started changing.

He'd shout and slam doors. He never did that before but he was doing it nowadays. He is definitely bored of you and wants to break up with you, this is what you thought.

He on the other hand was very stressed, it wasn't about studies, it was about his family. After he left for college, he got to know about the fights which happened back at home. His mom and dad were fighting a lot more than when he was back at home. It had driven him off the edge that he wasn't there to stop his parents. He was an only child, so he'd end up persuading them to stop fighting, but he couldn't do it from here, in college. The only person who'd listen to him was getting annoyed at him too, you. He thought that he was the problem, probably everyone around him has problems because of him.

You weren't able to complete your course because Renjun decided to stay the nights in between semester and took you out so much. If he would've told you to study, you'd be revising by now. He forgot that you leave everything for him. He hadn't told you anything about what was happening back at home. He applied to the same college as you because he didn't want to lose you but he slowly understood that he was just a distraction for you.

Renjun didn't speak to you the entire week, and the week after that. You were done with your exams but still no contact or trace of Renjun.

You called him multiple times those weeks but he didn't pick up, knowing that he was probably busy revising, you left him alone. You needed the space.

After your exams were over you went to his shared flat, one of his flatmates saw you in an alleyway and smiled at you. "Mark, have you seen Renjun?"

"Renjun went to college, he must be back by now though." Mark said.

"Ok, thanks."

"If he isn't home, you can just wait on the couch, he'll be back soon I think." Mark said.

You nodded, bidding Mark a goodbye and walking to their apartment. Renjun had told you the password to the apartment, all his flatmates knew that he had a girlfriend and they didn't mind it. They were friendly and got along with you.

When you unlocked the door and got in you saw a girl in the kitchen, around the same age as you.

"Oh Mark you're back?" She said and turned around. "Hello." You said and she smiled at you. "Who are you by the way?" She asked you, the question took you aback.

"I'm Rejun's girlfriend." You said, her mouth formed a small Oh. "What's your Major and Year?"

"I'm a final year in BCom."

"I'm a first in year Mass Media. Oh by the way I'm Mark's girlfriend."  She said and passed a cup of coffee towards you. "Renjun isn't home, how about you wait here till he's back? He said he wanted to get some groceries." Mark's girlfriend said. She was younger than you and Mark. Mark was doing his post graduation and she was in her first year. You and Renjun were the same age.

When Renjun had moved in only Mark was living here, before another guy named, Jeno had moved in. You had found yourself a reasonable one flat apartment but slowly it's cost was rising which was a problem for you, but you kept living in it.

"We're looking for a flatmate." Mark's girlfriend said, trying to break the awkward silence. "Oh, where do you live?"

"The apartment above."

The both of you started talking about college and she told you details about the flat and the empty room. It seemed decent and you thought about it. "Can i see it?" It was a chance to be closer to Renjun, he wouldn't have to commute so much to see you.

Renjun came back home an hour after you had arrived, Mark and his girlfriend kept you entertained. They made you coffee and spoke to you.

When Renjun came home, you saw his red face, which was puffy.

He saw you and stood at the door frozen. Slowly tears started to fall from his eyes and your movements were quick. You ran to him and hugged him. He fell on his knees near the shoe shelves and you hugged him. He cried into your arms and you soothed his back.

"What's wrong Jun?" You asked softly. Instead you got a louder sob for a reply.

His grip around you tightened and he cried for a few minutes before pulling away and pushing your hair back from your face.

"My parents are getting divorced, and i thought i lost you because you lost interest in me-"

"Renjun I love you." You said hands caressing his cheek. "Why didn't you tell me about all this?"

"I didn't want to burden you, and I thought you'd get affected."

"Renjun, if it's bothering you and is a problem to you, it's my problem too." You said smiling at him.

"They've been fighting a lot lately, since i came here."  Renjun looked down at the floor. "I wasn't there to stop them."

"Renjun, its not your fault." You put your hand under his chin and made him look up at you. "It's not your fault. Don't blame yourself."

"But I should've been there and because of me you weren't able to complete your course on time, its all my fault."

Your boyfriend who was almost a head taller than you, suddenly seemed like a small lost child who you wanted to coddle and sing to. He looked so troubled and sad that your heart hurt. It wasn't his fault, he blames himself for everything.

You remember the time when you were cutting vegetables and got a slight cut, he blamed himself for it, saying that he knew that you dont know how to use a knife so he should've been the one cutting the vegetables.

He was harsh on himself and as much as you believed you could change it, you couldn't but you wanted to.

"Renjun, its not your fault that i didn't study, it's my fault. That's on me."

"If I hadn't stayed the nights, you'd be done."

"Renjun you stayed over the weekends, i always had weekdays but i ended up wasting them, it's on me." You explained to him.

"What about my parents? That's totally on me. I shouldn't have left them knowing how hostile they are towards each other."

"If they were hostile towards each other did you ever consider that they were both stressed together. They didn't want to be together Renjun."

He finally looked at you, eyes dejected.

"I want to break up with you."

"Why?"

"I'm nothing but a distraction to you."

"You are my driving force. You're like a miracle to me. I wish you could see that."  You connected your foreheads. "You're the person i look forward to each day, knowing you'll provide me comfort and that you'll be there to listen to me."

"And i wish i could show you how much i feel for you, It can't be expressed in words." You whispered, planting a small kiss on his cheek.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you what was going on and  for keeping you in the dark." Renjun said.

You nodded. "You're not gonna hear the end of it, they annoyed me so much over the phone about who'll keep the pearls and me." Renjun said. "Honestly, your mom deserves the pearls." You said looking into his eyes.

A small giggle came from his chest. "Yeah she does."

That's when the door opened and Jeno entered. "Renjun, its dirty here-"

"Oh hi Y/N!"  Jeno smiled and waved at you. Mark slowly pulled Jeno, "You're ruining their moment dude." Mark muttered under his breath.

All of you laughed and ate ramen for dinner, enjoying each others company.

"Renjun, Mark's girlfriend told me there's a room upstairs that's empty. I was thinking i should move in there." You said when he brought you to his room.

"Actually, i was about to ask you if you wanna move in together, Mark wants his girlfriend to shift downstairs, we can have the entire apartment to ourselves." Renjun smiled. "Plus my house is closer to our college."

"Yes, I'll move in with you."

New beginnings awaited you two, all full of happiness and sunshine with a few rainy days, but no storm lasts forever, all of them pass, and bring along sunshine again.

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