#ignoring season three bc I don’t remember enough

[frobisher-smythe]

I’m not here for the jerome hate ☹️

[spookiat]

TAG 9 PEOPLE YOU'D LOVE TO GET TO KNOW BETTER

Tagged by @yahargulian, thanks! shfhfh man I haven’t done one of these in. Near a decade at this point?? Maybe? It’s been a while

Three ships:

- Jongerry!!!! (And also jongerrymartin) from TMA

- jmart also from TMA

- Jasico from PJO

- Taakitz (bonus non ‘J-name’ ship!) from TAZ

But like i can never remember what I’ve seen or read or even like so!! There are probably other ships that changed my very brain pathways that I just can’t remember rn fhfhf (this is ignoring my own characters of course bc they’re all that’s filling up my mental real estate rn)

First ship:

Niche but probably Teorenzo, Teo and Lorenzo from the Undrowned Child but also like Percabeth bc come on. They were the first big fandomy ship. (Or was that… Tamaki and Haruhi???? Who Knows, the passage of time and my past is a mystery even to me)

Last song:

My Frankenstein from Dead end paranormal park!

Last film:

Interstellar ???? I think. That was in cinema at least. God, my memory is awful. I don’t knowww.

Currently reading:

ignoring all the Danny phantom and batfam fics and going for actual books I think probably The Book Eaters by Sunyi Dean??? Was very good!! I need to find smth new to read but focus is hard

Currently watching:

His Dark Materials!! I need to watch the most recent season but I am still watching it. But also Horimiya and Buddy Daddies bc I’m ready to let myself get baited by anime again. Tbh before the mid Jan anime kick idk what I would have said I haven’t been watching much TV…. Uhhh also owl house?? I guess?? I’ve been meaning to rewatch Batman Brave and Bold, or Danny Phantom but alas. (Oh my god I forgot I was rewatching kimi ni todoke)

Currently craving:

Nothing Really but damn it would be nice to eat gluten-y ramen. Or a soft cinnamon sugar pretzel. But illegal food aside…. Lemon poppyseed cake. But specifically my friend’s wedding cake recipe bc I did not eat enough of it and her mum bakes real good.

Apparently I also need to get to know me better bc idk any of the answers fhfhfh… anyways!!!

I’m tagging whoever wants to!! Bc why not! If you’ve read this far you’re tagged

Aaaand @rawplutonium, @sapphichoneymoon, @honeyconsidered, @catboyparrish if y’all want and any other mutual who’s up for it!

[hansolmates]

a hero’s journey (m)

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

prompt used: “I should’ve known.”

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

It’s so easy to ignore the world. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe a little too well. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wow. So that explains everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Understandable.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But honestly? Fuck Jisoo. 

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

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

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

“Sounds good, thanks Joonie.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nevermind, get out of my apartment.” 

“Uh, this is my apartment.” 

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

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

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

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

“Remember Jeon Jungkook? Majored in graphic design.”

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

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

A pause. And then, “Want a beer?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re running away.” 

“Am not.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, yeah.” 

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

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

“You miss her?” 

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

“Did you talk about it?” 

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

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

“And are you trying to get over him?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

“But it works!” 

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

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

“Bumble.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or are you? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? I can pay for my own food—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I allowed to state my opinion?” 

“Since you asked so politely, no.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, he’s your fuck buddy then?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Namjoon holds out his hand, “Hand.” 

“No—”

“Hand.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pizza also sounds good—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do I want to know?”

“No.” 

“Do you want me to leave?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m home, Jungkookie!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

vernie bernie: or a tickle to my pickle? 

vernie bernie: beatin ya bean? 

You: ohmyGOD 

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

You: call. Ill come after dinner

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey Pretty Girl–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only recently,” you frown. 

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

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

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

“Because I wanted to protect you!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you still love him?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey Pretty Girl—

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

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

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

Hopefully yours, Jungkook

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’cha got there, partner?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey Pretty Boy...

Jungkook and Jisoo are no longer together, evidently. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi: come inside, u loser. 

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

You: dw i’ll wait, it’s only 11:50

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—coming along?” 

“Wha?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mean by what?” 

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

“Well, we’re here now, right?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook,” you whine, “read mine.” 

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

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

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

“I’m on page eighty-three.” 

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

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

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

“Yes ma’am.” 

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

“I wish you did, too.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook…” 

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

“Jungkook—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

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

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

“Please, baby.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

some time later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then the hotel room?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

“You know I love you, right?” 

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

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

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

“You’re terrible.” 

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

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

[bokutoslittlebird]

Threesome with Bokuto Kōtarō and Akaashi Keiji

Alpha!Bokuto x Beta!Reader x Beta!Akaashi

Warnings: Omegaverse, double penetration, dubcon, creampies, some BokuAka action (bc those are my babies), this is long

Summary: After presenting as a Beta, your mother decided being friends with an Alpha wasn’t good for him. After moving, you befriended another Beta, Akaashi Keiji. After years of not getting over your childhood crush, you never expected to see him again as your best friend’s mate. Akaashi can’t take care of Bokuto through his entire rut, so he lets Bokuto have some fun. There’s a lot of catching up to do between you two, anyways.

— 5 years old, [Y/N]

“You need to stop hanging around that boy, [Y/N],” your mother had said to you one evening. You had looked at her confused, wondering what Kōtarō had to do with your homework. She continued, ignoring the look on your face. “He’s presented as an Alpha. You need to stop hanging around him.”

“That doesn’t matter, mommy. He’s my friend,” you had said, not quite understanding. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

“[Y/N], listen to me. He doesn’t want to be with someone like you. Stop hanging out with him.” At the time, you didn’t understand what your mother was saying. You thought that she had thought your friend didn’t want you as a friend. You’d prove her wrong when you finished your homework.

You had finished the work and immediately went to yours and Kōtarō’s spot, seeing the familiar spiked up hair on the young boy. His frown was unusual, though. “Kō-chan?”

“My mom said we can’t hang out anymore,”

— present day

You woke to the alarm from your phone, the rhythmic beat of the song shooing away the traces of sleep. Your eyes fall to the calendar across your room, seeing you had to work today. With a promise of a hot bath and a treat of ramen after your shift, you are able to get out of bed and get ready to start the day.

Your work shift was simple, just taking orders and making coffee for customers, occasionally bringing treats to customers at the tables. It was normal, right down to when your friend walked in. “Keiji!”

“[Y/N],” he smiled, not having the same enthusiasm but enough to satisfy you. You had met Keiji after you moved, shortly after Kōtarō ended his friendship with you. Keiji had presented as a Beta, just like you, so yours and his mother encouraged playdates and study sessions at each other’s house, hoping a relationship would bloom. “The usual, please,”

“You sure? The season specialty is here! I know you like pumpkin,” your smile turned into a smirk, knowing you had got him when his eyes widened. The season specials were ready to serve, but nobody had switched the menus up.

“Hm, I think I’ll go with the pumpkin latte for today,” he finally said, after weighing his options. You smiled and put in the order, knowing exactly how to work his buttons. “I’ll have to let my boyfriend know,”

“Oh?” That was new information. A week ago, Keiji said he was going to die single because everyone’s an idiot. Now he’s got a lover? “Do tell,”

“He’s an Alpha, but his parents don’t care. Don’t tell mom. She thinks you’re my soulmate, still,”

You guffawed at that, shaking your head at the memory. You remembered when you got older when Keiji’s mom had started giving you lessons in cooking and sewing, typical ‘wife’ things. Keiji smiled at your dramatic scene of laughing, knowing it was how you were.

“Wait till she finds out you’re mated to someone else,”

“I prefer to term courting to mate, since I’m plain and boring. He’s anything but, honestly,”

“Perfect match for you, Kei-chan,” you winked, seeing Keiji’s cheeks turn a bit pink at the inside joke. You laughed again, finishing up the last details on the latte.

“He reminds me a bit of you, actually. But without control or a filter,”

“Maybe I am your soulmate, you just don’t like me,”

“Haha, very funny,” he replied, walking off with a little wave. You wiggle your fingers, waving goodbye to him. After watching your friend leave, your shoulders sag a bit, remembering the young boy with white-and-black hair. Back then, you wouldn’t call it a crush. More of an admiration for the boy with no fears and a clear future. With more experience under your belt, you could admit it was a crush. The boy had stolen your heart and crushed it the last time you saw him.

You clean up the counter as the clock ticks, slowly telling you your shift is coming to a close. You feel like you want to cry, but you don’t know why.

The next day, your phone dings with a text message from Keiji, surprised he would shoot a text. He usually called unless he was busy in a meeting or something. Your eyes glance at the screen, trying to finish your essay for one of your classes. The message doesn’t strike you as immediately needing attention, so you ignore it, focusing on the paragraph you’re typing out.

Another ding takes your attention away from the screen completely, knowing Keiji really needed your attention.

[Keiji ❤️ - 12:17 pm]

- Can you bring some fruits to my apartment? I forgot to get some at the store. I’m busy.

[Keiji ❤️ - 12:18 pm]

- please im hungry

The last message startles you, seeing as Keiji always punctuated his texts because, well, he was like that. You quickly typed a reply and made sure to save your document before heading to your kitchen.

[Sweetcheeks😘 - 12:22 pm]

- I’ll be there asap Kei

— 5 years old, Kōtarō Bokuto

“Kōtarō, I need to talk to you,” his mom had said. He looked up at her, a paper hat on his head, a smile on his face. “You need to stop hanging out with [Y/N] so much, baby,”

“Why? Did we do something bad?” He frowned, not understanding. What did he do?

“No, baby, not this time,” she laughed, smiling down at him. Her smile was not full of love and joy, it was sad. “Her mother doesn’t want you two hanging out so much. She said they’ll be moving soon, so I don’t want you to be hurt anymore than you already will be.”

Kōtarō didn’t smile for the rest of the day. After he told his friend they couldn’t hang out anymore, his mother held him in her arms while he cried. It wasn’t fair.

— present day

Kōtarō had been sent home early, with his rut steadily approaching and his fights with Atsumu and Shūgo getting more intense. His ride home was full of anxiety, knowing Keiji couldn’t quite handle ruts very well since he was a Beta. Omegas were meant to handle Alpha ruts all the way through, but Keiji could only handle half of the rut. The last time Kōtarō’s cycle had started, Keiji had to come to where he was, huddled up in an apartment. Keiji couldn’t walk two days after the rut ended, even though he dealt with three out of seven days of the rut.

Kōtarō’s arrival to Keiji’s apartment was slow. His instincts told him to run, but he was able to restrain himself. Keiji opened the door almost immediately after the knock, wrapping his boyfriend in a hug. “I’ve missed you,”

“I’ve missed you, too, Akaashi,” Kōtarō said, indulging in the coffee and minty scent from Keiji, although there was a bit of pumpkin, too. He involuntary let out a growl.

“I had a pumpkin latte earlier,” Keiji immediately said, expecting Kōtarō’s reaction. Instincts came first the closer he got to his rut, Keiji had learned. He could feel the Alpha deflate a bit in his hold, just hugging and scenting. Keiji smiled at that, knowing he would be in for a rough week. “I made a nest. It’s not as good as an Omega’s-“

“You didn’t have to do that,” Kōtarō’s voice was clear and sharp, halting anything Keiji was saying. “You’re not an Omega. You don’t have to act like one,”

“I-I know, Bokuto-san,” Keiji stuttered out, the look in his boyfriend’s eyes startling him a bit. It was intense, but it wasn’t necessarily bad, per se. “I just-“

“I’m not here right now because of your sub-gender. I’m here for you,” Kōtarō’s voice was once again clear and sharp, going right into Keiji’s bones. He’s sure if he was an Omega, he’d be kneeling and begging. For fuck’s sake, he’d have probably entered a heat cycle.

“I know, Bokuto-san. I know,” Keiji leaned against him, reveling in his smell. He couldn’t scent Kōtarō or smell a distinct scent, but Kōtarō obviously came straight to the apartment after practice. He smelled like sweat and deodorant, a strangely pleasant combination.

Kōtarō let out a growl as he felt his rut come on, his hands moving towards Keiji’s ass. In turn, Keiji blushed and cleared his throat, backing up from Kōtarō. He smiled and held up a finger. Kōtarō grinned, straightening his posture. Keiji smiled and ran towards the bedroom, knowing his Alpha was hot on his heels.

The following day, the two lovers were still going at it. Keiji hardly had any rest, only getting his rest once Kōtarō needed to rest, even if Kōtarō claimed he passed out after their third round. A small tease and a mischievous grin had sent Keiji back to being railed by a feral Alpha, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Keiji threw his head into the pillows, drool spilling from his lips and he moaned, having his third orgasm of the day from Kōtarō’s forceful thrusts. On the other hand Kōtarō had only orgasmed once, knotting Keiji and spurring the Beta into a second orgasm almost right after the first. The thrusts didn’t cease, Kōtarō chasing his own release in his mate was the only thought in his mind.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Keiji,” he groaned out, plugging him up with another knot, his orgasm following it. Keiji’s eyes rolled back, digging his nails into Kōtarō’s biceps at the sensation. It stung and was a lot more pain than pleasure, but he couldn’t complain too much.

Kōtarō finished painting Keiji’s walls white, resting his forehead against the man underneath him and catching his breath. Keiji gave him a swift peck on the lips, assuring him he was okay. However, Keiji’s stomach growled at that moment, sending heat to his cheeks.

“I haven’t eaten today,” he realized, talking out loud. Kōtarō may have been an Alpha in a rut, but he was also an Alpha with a mate. Mates needed to be protected and cared for, so his instincts told him he needed to feed his mate. Kōtarō’s eyes immediately went wide. “Don’t move!”

“Ah— sorry! I always forget,” he laughed, adjusting their position so he could lay on his side. Keiji just shook his head, smiling. Kōtarō was a wonderful mate, truly, he just happened to be overly passionate about things he cared for.

Keiji thought to you, how you’d probably enjoy having an Alpha to take care of you. Keiji knew you often overworked yourself and forced yourself to do things, trying to be as independent as possible. He couldn’t be your mate, but he’s had a thought that ends in all sides benefitting - hopefully, at least.

Kōtarō moaned as he slipped from Keiji’s abused hole, the knot finally deflating. “I’ll get you a snack.”

“I have leftovers in the fridge. Bottom left drawer,” he mumbled back, wincing from moving too much. Kōtarō immediately nodded, jogging off to the kitchen, butt-naked. Keiji couldn’t say much. He enjoyed the view.

He winced as he rolled over to his phone, glad he put it on the charger near the Nest yesterday before he got pounded into the mattress. He opened the messages, typing out a quick message for you and sending. He hoped his plan would work out well, but he had faith his calculations were correct.

Hearing the microwave beep meant the food was ready and Keiji still hadn’t gotten a response from you. He typed out another message, hoping you’d actually read this one and put his phone on the floor, face down. Just in time, too, as Kōtarō walked into the bedroom with a freshly heated plate of food.

“Food’s ready!”

— back to you

You had gathered some fruits together, slicing and dicing them as an added flair. Sliced bananas, strawberries, diced watermelon, mangoes, and sliced avocados on slices of bread and cream cheese. You felt like an American middle-aged woman about to attend a brunch with your food choices, but Keiji liked specific fruits specific ways and you knew he only ate avocados on bread with cream cheese.

The ride to Keiji’s apartment only took five minutes, but it felt like it took an hour, your anxiety eating you up at the thought of what Keiji is doing or needs help with. You assumed he needed help with something, but you weren’t positive on what. It could just be as simple as he can’t leave home because his anxiety was too high or it could be something worse — what if his mom got in an accident? The thoughts didn’t stop, making the five minutes much, much longer.

Arriving to Keiji’s apartment, you noticed how dead it seemed outside. You saw a woman on the way up the stairs who gasped as she left her apartment, quickly locking the door and running down the stairs, almost running into you. Confused, you noticed the lights seemed to be off in the other apartments, but that wasn’t too strange. It was a Saturday, but it was midday so people were probably out.

You had a spare key for Keiji’s place, seeing as you often checked up on him; he had a spare for your place, too. Entering the apartment, it was deathly quiet, putting you on edge. There was a certain air about the room that made you feel like you were in a horror movie. As you made your way to the kitchen, you noticed the messily placed dishes in the sink, the shirt in the hallway leading to Keiji’s bedroom, and the duffel bag beside the door. You’re confused. Keiji doesn’t have a duffel bag — not since the old one ripped a couple of years ago.

You ponder whether to go into Keiji’s bedroom or not, worried someone might’ve broken in —that shirt is definitely not his. That’s when you feel a presence. At first, you freeze, wondering if Keiji’s playing a trick on you. It is October after all. You place the container of fruits on the counter and hear a growl, immediately turning around to meet golden eyes and familiar hair.

His eyes were narrowed, obviously pissed, but then his face changed. He seemed confused first, then a dawning came upon him. Next thing you know, you’re picked up and having the life squeezed out of you. “[Y/N]!”

“Kō?” Your tiny voice whispers. You can hardly believe it. Your ex-best friend and childhood crush is in your best friend’s apart— uh oh. “Uh oh,”

“What-Oh?” His voice repeats, looking at you. The Alpha of your dreams is the Alpha of Keiji’s dreams—what a day it’s been. “[Y/N]?”

“I should, um, can you let me down?” He obliged, letting you stand on your feet again. “I need to, um, go. Uh, Keiji wanted fruits so I, uh, brought them. I’m gonna go,” you turned, hoping to tears would stay in until you left. You weren’t expecting Kōtarō to cage you in, effectively trapping you. As a Beta, you didn’t immediately obey an Alpha’s command, but the look in his eyes told you to stay. You obeyed.

“Don’t go. Please,” is all he said, his eyes twinkling. You shook your head, deciding this was a bad idea. “[Y/N].”

“You don’t get to act like nothing happened, Bokuto-san. You stopped being friends with me, remember? I expected you to be breeding an Omega by now. Looks like it was just me,” you spat, feeling the anger you held in boil over. The feeling of your best friend leaving you because of your sub-gender, the feeling of betrayal, remembering how your mother sighed at you and rolled her eyes, telling you she was always right and your friend would never look your way again.

“What?” He peered down at you, no longer hunching over. You realized just how tall he had gotten. “I stopped being friends because you were leaving. You being a Beta had nothing to do with it,”

“Sure, I guess now it doesn’t. Since, you know, you’re with my new best friend. It’s okay, I get it,” you once again tried to leave, but Kōtarō wouldn’t budge. “Move, Bokuto-san.”

“No.” His voice was clear and sharp. You were sure if you were an Omega, you’d be on your knees crying. “I don’t want it to end like this. I want to make amends.” Good thing you weren’t an Omega.

“Well, I don’t care what you want. Let me go,” your own eyes narrowed at him, his face not changing. His body unmoving. You rolled your eyes, deciding to not play this game anymore. Going to duck under Kōtarō’s arm, but his body moved to pin you to the counter. “Dude!”

“You smell different.” Is all the warning you got before you felt his nose in your neck. You felt butterflies at the contact, but also cringed at the display. You then noticed a shadow in the hallway. Attempting to pry Kōtarō off you wasn’t working, so Keiji got to see his boyfriend hunched over you.

“Good, you seem to be getting along again,” he said, a gentle and lazy smile on his face. Surprisingly, Kōtarō didn’t turn around at his mate’s voice, just kept rubbing his nose against you. “I hope you can take care of him,”

“Akaashi Keiji, what the fuck,” you muttered. He didn’t seem concerned his boyfriend was currently nuzzling against you. You noticed the limp in Keiji’s walk and he had one of his hands on the wall.

“I’ve been keeping track of your cycle. You should be ovulating by now. Bokuto-san has told me about his childhood friend before and it took me a while but I figured out it was you,” Keiji kept talking, limping his way to the couch. “I’ll get the fruits later. Bokuto-san, don’t hurt her too much,”

“Hurt me?” You squeaked, eyes widening at the implication. “Keiji, I can’t—“ you started, a scream interrupting your sentence as Kōtarō picked you up and hauled you to the bedroom. He displayed his strength earlier, of course, but the fact you were were on your back in what looked similar to an Omega’s Nest within seconds of the ground leaving your feet was a display that turned you on immensely. If Kōtarō wasn’t currently attempting to strip you, he would have been with the sickly sweet scent you exuded.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he growls out, his hands deciding to rip your very nice shirt into shreds, deciding your movements to get them off were too slow. He offered the same treatment to your bra, your short scream of disbelief when it was torn. He was nice enough to pull off the pants you were wearing, along with your panties. “Ever since my first rut,” he continues, his nose buried against your thighs, his tongue licking a hot stripe against it. You whined at the contact, full on knowing he could smell your arousal. “I thought I’d never find you again.”

“Boku-“

“No. Not here. Call me your Alpha, little Beta,”

“Uh-“ you stopped, unsure of the situation. Kōtarō, regardless of your feelings, was with Keiji. That alone made you hesitant, even if Keiji literally told Kōtarō to go for it. You felt weird having to call him your Alpha anyways, since you were never subjected to those Alpha/Omega relationships. You can’t say you weren’t interested in it, often just having fun with other Betas and maybe an Alpha or two during their ruts (you vividly remember helping an attractive Alpha in your last year at Nekoma, rendering you unable to walk for the next two days). Neither of them called you by your sub-gender, nor made you call them Alpha. You obviously hesitated, taking a trip down memory lane much too long, since Kōtarō’s hand had wrapped itself around your jaw, forcing you to look at him. You didn’t think your old childhood friend would be so.. rough.

“I’m waiting, little one. Call me your Alpha,” he growled out, again. The growling was doing wonders to you, making you wetter by the second. Another growl came out, spurring you to speak.

“I- Alpha, we can’t do this. We need to talk-“

“You can try to talk, but I’m gonna fill you to the brim until my cum is seeping out of your cunt. Let’s see how well you do.” Kōtarō immediately went down to your nether regions, your folds glistening to show him just how turned on you were. Your face was hot, practically burning when his eyes locked on, unmoving from the sight. He wasn’t looking long, getting a startled scream from you as he buried his face between your legs, lapping at your juices. Your hand went to his hair, the hair as soft as you had hoped, as he continued to drink from your pussy as if it was his last drink on earth. Your other hand was bunching up a nearby shirt, one you had left at Keiji’s two days ago after a night of drinks. If you weren’t so busy rolling your eyes into your skull as your mouth hung open, moans spilling from your lips, you’d have noticed the mix of yours and Keiji’s clothes in the Nest.

Kōtarō continued to be relentless, pushing two fingers into your heat as you were clenching your thighs around his head. You were worried you’d hurt him, but he was an Alpha in every shape and form — if he wanted to stop you, he’d do it. He knows he’s in control. Adding a third finger brought you to your first orgasm of the day, feeling exhausted afterwards. Kōtarō rose from between your legs, his eyes immediately finding your glossy ones. He smiled and licked his lips. Then, wiping the slick from his lower face with his hand to get the excess that his tongue couldn’t get and then licking it off, his eyes never breaking contact.

“So sweet, I’m already addicted,” his grin got darker, his body crawling up until his hands were on both sides of your head and his lips were slotted against yours. His tongue darted between his lips, into your already open mouth, deepening the kiss. You were so in bliss from the after-orgasm high and kissing your crush, you didn’t even feel the head of Kōtarō’s cock pushing into you.

Kōtarō threw his head back, moaning at the tight fit. You mewled, it being some time since someone entered you, the feeling almost foreign. It didn’t hurt, thankfully, the wetness Kōtarō created more than enough to help him slide in. He didn’t stop, he just kept pushing in until the beginning of his knot was flush against you. Another growl erupted from Kōtarō, the only warning you got before he pulled out only to slam back in. The sudden movement had your back arching and your head against the plush pillows of the Nest. It was the green light for Kōtarō.

Your knees were pushed to your shoulders, the position momentarily uncomfortable until your mind was replaced with the burning and overwhelming sensation of Kōtarō pounding into you liked a man starved. Moans were bouncing off the walls, along with Kōtarō’s grunts, mixed with the sound of skin slapping skin as his thighs continuously met your ass. Your hands switched from fisting fabric to winding around Kōtarō’s neck as he buried his face into your neck, his panting and grunts loud in your ears. You felt the coming of another orgasm, the familiar tightening in your abdomen and the arching of your back being a few indicators. Your nails raked against Kōtarō’s back, leaving angry red streaks in their place. Another grunt from Kōtarō and you felt a painful sensation you hadn’t felt before — a knot. The added pain before the height of your pleasure sent you over the edge, mewling out Kōtarō’s name as you did.

Kōtarō had you plugged up, him spilling his seed into your hot walls. You whined at the feeling of fullness. He sighed at the feeling himself, indulging in your scent. You figured now was as good as you’re going to get to talk. “Um, Kōt-“

“Alpha.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes. “Alpha, um, this is an awkward time, I suppose, but can we talk about, like, us?”

“We don’t need to, but we can,” he looked at you, moving his position so you guys were on your sides. More comfortable for each other. “What do you wanna talk about?”

“Okay, um, the Alpha thing is weird, but I’ll let it slide since obviously you’re in a rut. Obviously Keiji isn’t an Omega, so he can’t take you throughout the entire rut. Um, I don’t wanna be your booty call for ruts, this whole situation is so fucking weird-!”

“You’re not the ‘booty call’, as you said. Akaashi mentioned he had a surprise for me, but I didn’t think he’d offer me you. After this, I hope he lets me court you, too. So I can be your Alpha, too.”

“Kō- Alpha, we’re no longer friends because you’re an Alpha. That’s why you broke off our friendship so long ago, isn’t that right? You deserved an Omega, which I am not, but you found Keiji and that is fine. I am not a part of this.”

“I don’t care about sub-genders. That’s why I’m with Akaashi. I stopped being friends because you were moving. It hurt a lot to end things, but I didn’t know what else to do. That was Mom’s advice, at least.”

You were confused. Your mother said it was because he cared about sub-genders, but now he’s saying it was because of the move? Your friendship ended before moving, yes, but it was almost a month before moving. You could have stayed friends, anyways. Did your mother lie to you? Did his feelings change? “My- My mother said you needed an Omega so I-“

“She was wrong. She’s the one who set you up with Akaashi, yeah? She didn’t even care what my family thought about us. That’s in the past, we can move past it.”

“All these years...” you muttered, feeling the tears from before coming back. The knowledge that your own mother forced your friendship to end made you angry, but everything was fine now. Kōtarō was your friend again. At least, you thought he was. “I don’t know if I want a relationship, though,”

“Too bad,” he grunted, his cock leaving you feeling empty. A whine was all you needed to do to have yourself pinned under Kōtarō again, his cock filling you up again. “I’ve been dreaming of this for so long, as if I’ll let you leave so easily.”

Kōtarō continued his relentless pounding into you, the constant fucking rendering your lower area numb. Eventually, your world went black after a— what was it, 6th orgasm? Kōtarō’s second knot was the only thing you remembered before you tuned out completely. The grunting, whines, moans, all of it faded into silence. While you had passed out, Kōtarō panicked, thinking he went overboard. Keiji’s words echoed in his mind: “Don’t hurt her too much.” Was this too much?

Kōtarō, stuck inside you because of his knot, called for Keiji to help him. Of course, Keiji came as fast as he could (not very fast, poor man is still recovering) to see Kōtarō, who is close to tears, above your blissed, fucked, and passed out form. He sighs, shaking his head. “Bokuto-san, I think you went too hard,”

“Akaashi...” he whined, his strong arms curling around you. Even passed out, your body reacted, curling into him as you softly moaned. “Akaashi...”

“It’s okay, she’ll be fine. Her body isn’t used to it. At least, not yet.” A moan from Kōtarō let Keiji know his knot had deflated, him pulling out of your cunt and the copious amounts of cum he filled you with spilling out. It made even Keiji aroused, seeing it seeping out of you. Kōtarō knew he was aroused at the sight and came upon a solution.

“Akaashi! Maybe we...”

Waking up was next thing you remember. You felt so, so full, like you were plugged up in both ends. As you flutter your eyes open. You expected to see your ceiling, having woken up from intense dream or something. You maybe even hoped to see Kōtarō grinning down at you, sweat dripping down his face and his chest. You did not, however, expect to see Keiji smiling down at you, gently caressing your face. “Kei?”

“Hey there, pretty baby. How are you feeling?” The nickname threw you off — Keiji never called you a nickname. He was very formal, even saying your last name until only recently. You obviously showed confusion, or maybe you hesitated, because a rumble was felt behind you, a familiar voice following.

“She’s probably feeling pretty stuffed, Akaashi. Stuffed full inside and out, I hope,” Kōtarō’s voice said. You turned your head, hissing at the pain in your neck, to see Kōtarō grinning at you, just like you hoped. However, wasn’t Keiji resting?

“I should thank you for the fruit. It was delicious and cut up so cutely and delicately. I was getting a bit jealous to hear Kōtarō having so much fun with you. I was hoping to have my own fun with you when he rested after his rut, but he was kind enough to share. Isn’t that nice? I don’t think I can get you pregnant, but I want to try. We’d have such cute babies together, you know?”

“I was hoping she’d carry my pups first, but you can pump her full next time. We have all the time in the world, after all.”

“Excuse me? Wait, wait!” You shouted, suddenly realizing the whole ‘filling you up’ speech wasn’t just an Alpha’s instincts — it was their intention to impregnate you. “I can’t have kids! I’m in school and-“

“I can provide for both of my mates, right Keiji?” Kōtarō said, his eyes holding nothing but love as he gazed at Keiji. It made your heart squeeze at the love between them. Keiji smiled and nodded, deciding at that time to roll his hips. You threw your head back and mewled, sensitive from the consecutive orgasms previously.

“I’m glad you’re still sensitive. There’s no evidence to back it up, but I heard the more orgasms a woman has, the more likely it is she’ll get pregnant. Of course, Omegas have a fertile cycle, but you’re a Beta, so I had to track your cycle for about three months. I hope it was enough.”

“Three months?! Akaashi Kei- oh!” You screamed, feeling Kōtarō move. He was filling up your back entrance, adding to the fullness. Also, it explained why you were on his chest.

“I also need to cut out your caffeine, that’s a bad habit you need to cut out anyways. No more nights of drinking while binge-eating. Your body needs to be in peak condition if it’s going to carry our offspring,”

“I can’t wait till you’re all swollen and wobbling. It’ll be so cute. And then we’ll do it again. And again. And I don’t know if I wanna stop, babe!” Kōtarō laughed, thrusting his hips up, making you jerk at the feeling.

“Maybe we can stop after five. We’ll need a bigger house, too,” Keiji continued, rolling his hips in rhythm to Kōtarō’s thrusts. You closed your eyes, one hand fisting Kōtarō’s hair while the other gripped Keiji’s shoulder, hoping to ground yourself. “You’ll look so beautiful when you’re pregnant. This is what our families want, after all. You’ll bear my children and Kōtarō also gets what he wants in the end. He gets his own offspring. This all works out,” he grunted, snapping his hips after almost pulling all the way out. “In the end, at least.”

If you could form a coherent sentence, you’d tell them to stop, but the only thing on your mind was how stuffed you were. Keiji was thrusting into your puffy, abused cunt that was overflowing with Kōtarō’s cum, rolling his hips every so often to increase pleasure. Kōtarō’s grunts were heightening your arousal and sending you hurling towards another orgasm. Your eyes rolled, your tongue sticking out as you clenched around Keiji, sending him towards an orgasm of his own. A curse and a stutter of his hips and he was spilling his own seed into you. He knew his genes wouldn’t take, not when you’d been pumped by Kōtarō multiple times. He had looked for the chances between a Beta and Alpha genes in a Beta, but he only got Omegas, which were made to take Alpha seed and breed easily. A small part of him wanted to try and overpower Kōtarō, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to compare to the amount you’ve already taken.

Kōtarō was still going, his strong, warm hands holding your knees to your chest, keeping you spread open, as he thrusted up into you. He knew Keiji had finished, the face he was sporting a familiar scene to the Alpha, so Kōtarō was chasing his own high. A high-pitched whine from you as Keiji rolled his hips again, earning a growl from Kōtarō in return. You pant as your hand leaves Keiji’s shoulder, ghosting over your sensitive clit as you attempt to close your thighs, overly sensitive from all the rounds you’ve been forced to go through. Keiji saw your hand brush over it, taking his own hand to replace yours and apply pressure onto the nub, rubbing it.

A scream was ripped from your throat, another orgasm around Keiji’s cock as Kōtarō buried himself, shoving his knot in your tight hole. You were twitching at the extra feeling of fullness, the hot spurts of cum in your ass and the oozing cum from your cunt, even if Keiji was plugging you up. A sigh escaped your lips, your eyes rolling back as he attempted to catch your breath. Kōtarō brought a hand to fondle your breast, earning another whine for him.

“I could get used to this,”

“So could I. Good thing we’ll get to see much more of it,”

You normally would have told them no, attempting to push Keiji off and out of you, but you just sighed, trying to kiss Kōtarō. He smiled and obliged, licking your lips before kissing you, enjoying the taste of you. Keiji smiled at the scene, bringing his mouth to your perky nipple from Kōtarō’s earlier fondling, biting gently on it. You mewled, shifting your legs up Keiji’s hips and he moved in deeper. Kōtarō growled, his hand rubbing the red and swollen nub between your legs. You wouldn’t normally let this continue, but you could hardly think.

If you could think properly, you might have noticed the bags of clothes you don’t remember bringing to Keiji’s. You might have seen the handcuffs nearby. You might have seen the extra lock on the bedroom door, so out of place. You normally would have been able to think properly, but the only thing you could think of was being stuffed with Keiji’s and Kōtarō’s thick cocks, filling you up to the brim.

Sequel -> The Perfect Family [tw includes dubcon/noncon, use of the word r*pe, water torture/attempted drowning, gunplay, pregnancy, blood, abuse (mentally and physically), bit of watersports]

[azucanela]

pls some headcanons for Bakugou, Shinsou and Shoto when the reader kisses them infront of everyone. Thank you :)

KISSING THEM IN FRONT OF EVERYONE

FT. BAKUGOU KATSUKI, SHINSOU HITSOHI TODOROKI SHOUTO

SUMMARY: in which you and the boys kiss in public, and now everyone is screaming. oh no.

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

WARNING: season three spoliers, insecurities, arguments,

A/N: i wanted to do scenarios bc this was too good ugh thank YOU for requesting this 

BAKUGO KATSUKI

lol so HAVE FUN WITH THIS ONE

you two are already dating but you keep it on the down low because its Katsuki and he’s like ew people knowing i have feelings other than anger? ew ew ew

you’re fine with it, but if he thinks its bothering you he’ll talk to you about it and smother you with affection, but he’ll act like its nothing

wants to rub it in his faces that you are his girlfriend, yes, but also he doesn’t want the teasing that comes with it. he knows for a fact that all his friends would bully him because he is SOFT FOR YOUUU and he’s also just a generally private person

you respect this and like it’s fine woo yeah okay it’s nice being the only one that sees the side of him that’s all soft and cute and affectionate

i can’t really see the two of you slipping up unless it’s influenced by a lot of emotions

where do these emotions come from? you might ask

his kidnapping.

you were a mess, but it was lowkey, real lowkey. and unlike the others you do not support trying to save katsuki on their own, trusting the heroes to do their job is the way to go.

so you don’t go with them. the next time you see your lovely boyfriend is when he’s giving kirishima money

so naturally, consumed by all the fear and panic you felt while he was gone, you kiss him!

and he kisses you back and its really soft and oh-

what a shame the whOLE CLASS IS THERE 

everyone is really confused, but they’re happy because they think that the two of you finally addressed the clear tension between the two of you, all it took was a lil kidnapping

except then you pull apart, completely disregarding them, your hands on his face, “baby are you okay?”

you don’t call someone you haven’t kissed before baby

then it clicks for the rest of the class

SCREAMS.

so much yelling

oh god have fun with that one

the bakusquad is yelling at him for not telling him, the dekusquad is scolding you for not telling them, there’s just a lot of questionable things

katsuki will get SO FLUSTERED because this is not what we wanted

at least the attention was off of his kidnapping now

maybe that was your goal idk 👀

Katsuki really wished everyone would shut up about his kidnapping, it wasn’t something he wanted to think about right now, or ever if he was honest. So much had happened in the past few days and he was still struggling to process all of it, and the disgustingly warm welcome he’d received to the dorms wasn’t helping. It was gross. 

He’d shoved cash into Kirishima’s hand, rolling his eyes when he began to panic at the possibility that he’d taken it from Denki, shutting down the idea almost immediately.

And then he saw her.

Y/N was shoving past everyone and heading to him, and he couldn’t help the relief he felt when he saw her. Katsuki was grateful she hadn’t been involved in the little escape plan Deku had hatched out, but seeing her made him feel calmer than even as she practically tackled him, hands coming to his cheeks as she brought him into a kiss.

Their lips molded together perfectly, his hands coming to her sides and holding her like he’d never let go as her hands gripped his face rather harshly. It would have been the perfect moment, had the rest of his class not been there. 

Y/N seemed to disregard this as she pulled apart, eyes darting across his figure as his brows furrowed at her clear distress. “Calm down, idiot.” His cheeks are turning red as he realizes that everyone is staring, but he can’t help but focus his attention on her as he feels a wave of relaxation wash over him as she begins to run her hands all over him in search of injuries.

“Oh, I’m sorry, for caring about your wellbeing.” She grumbled, wrapping her arms tightly around his torso when her hands left his face. “Baby, you scared me.” His arms wrapped around her shoulders securely, as he rolled his eyes, though Katsuki wouldn’t deny he was appreciating all the attention she was giving him, he was beginning to feel embarrassed as he allowed her to hold onto him.

As if the kiss hadn’t been enough to astonish the rest of their class, the pet name simply amplified their shocked as they all cried out, “baby?” Kirishima had exchanged looks with Mina, who looked equally confused before returning their gaze to Katsuki, a look of betrayal evident on both their faces.

Stupid barbarians. “SHUT UP EXTRAS!” Katsuki exclaimed, holding Y/N tighter to his chest as his cheeks flushed red, he could hear her laugh against his chest. “Can’t a guy hug his girlfriend in peace.” 

“GIRLFRIEND?”

He was grateful for the subject change, though he didn’t appreciate the fact that his relationship had been exposed, until he looked back to Y/N, who beamed at him. 

If she was happy then it was fine he supposed. 

SHINSOU HITOSHI

welp

this one will probably have the funniest reaction

like

you did not just kiss him, in front of all these people, was that a joke?

i think he’s the only one you wouldn’t already be in a relationship with, purely because this is just 10x funnier

so ever since the two of you first started hanging, there have been people criticizing you for befriending him at all, because of his quirk, they just cannot believe that the Y/N L/N is hanging out with Shinsou Hitoshi

but also, ever since the two of you started hanging out, the bullying has lessened immensely, most because you threatened everyone it was really subtle, but they got the message

nobody screws with Y/N L/N

anyways, you two are probably hanging out again, and it’s been a while since you got one of those comments, which is the main reason this one sets you off.

“quit hanging out with that freak L/N, he’s gonna ruin your chances at becoming a pro.” 

shinsou was used to this, and your violent reactions, so he immediately brought a hand to your arm to ensure you didn’t commit a murder, shaking his head at you

you turn back to him, and you’re lowkey glaring at him before turning your piercing eyes back to the other guys

and without breaking eye contact with them, you grab Shinsou’s face, earning stares from everywhere in the cafeteria, and then kiss him

shinsou is shocked

shinsou.exe

you killed him.

he did not anticipate this um, you kinda caught him by surprise with this one, he genuinely did not think it was possible for you to feel this way for him

when you pull away, the kiss is almost like magic

you don’t mess with Y/N’s friends, much less their boyfriend

When Y/N beams up at Shinsou, he can’t help the way his heart skips a beat. It’s ridiculous, he knows this, and he hates that he can’t prevent it. Shinsou is no fool, he knows Y/N L/N, a UA student that could potentially be a member of the Top Ten heroes in the future, would never like him. He wouldn’t be shocked if she befriended him entirely out of pity, given how students used to treat him prior to their unlikely friendship. She’d weaseled her way into his life, despite his attempts to avoid her, ignore her, and even tell her off, she’d stuck around. 

And yes, Shinsou had made the mistake of liking her. On days like this, he’d entertain the possibility that Y/N liked him back, because sometimes she hugged him for longer than average friends did, or maybe she’d press a kiss to his cheek, or even hold his hands.

That was probably just something best friends did.

“Hitoshi! Don’t you know what this means?” She exclaimed, hands finding their way onto his shoulders in the middle of the cafeteria.

Yes, she used his first name.

Shinsou rolled his eyes, trying to keep himself from getting flustered purely because her hands were on him, “Y/N it’s not a big deal, and besides-”

“We’re going to be in the same class!” Her hands move from his shoulders to around them as she pulls him into a hug, “I’m so proud of you.”

He’s shocked that she’s saying these things, and its clear she has more confidence in him than he does. Aizawa had offered him daily training to get him onto the same level as the other Class 1-A students, and he’d be joining them the next semester, assuming everything went well. “It’s no guarantee.” He mumbles, wrapping his arms around her torso.

Shinsou felt Y/N swat his back as she pulled away slightly, much to his dismay, “you’re so talented! Of course, he’s gonna let you in.” 

She sounded so sure, and Shinsou felt his heart swell with pride. 

He moves to speak, only to be interrupted by a passerby, “L/N. Come on, quit hanging out with that freak.” Y/N recognized him, James, he’d bothered Shinsou before, and he’d tried to get Y/N to stop hanging out with Shinsou and been unsuccessful. “He’s just gonna ruin your chances at becoming a pro.”

Y/N pulls away slightly from Shinsou, her brows are furrowed as she moves to confront him, only for Shinsou to grab her arm, shaking his head. “Don’t.”

Turning to glare at the guy, Y/N scoffed, “is this because I rejected you?” 

“He asked you out?” Shinsou asked, but Y/N gave him a look that said they’d discuss it later. She could remember the day vividly, he’d asked shortly after she returned from hanging out with Shinsou, telling her she could do so much better, and so much better meant him. 

She disagreed. And now Y/N couldn’t help but feel bothered as their argument begins to draw attention from others within the cafeteria, she can see in the corner of her eye that Izuku has come to a stand. Though Iida is grasping his shoulder to try and prevent him from doing anything irrational, they all knew Y/N could stand on her own. 

James scoffed at her words, “you probably rejected me because he made you.” The implications were dark, the idea that Shinsou had forced Y/N to befriend him and reject James, though he’d never used his quirk on her and swore he never would. 

Shinsou found himself releasing Y/N’s arm, taking a step backwards as he sighed, only for her to grab his hand and yank him closer before taking his face in her hands and kissing him.

She was kissing him.

Oh.

Shinsou’s mind empties as Y/N pulls away, turning back to James as she says, “my boyfriend doesn’t need to make me do anything.” And the boy practically stomps off in frustration, grumbling about Shinsou’s stupid quirk or something of that sort. Not that either of them are paying attention as Y/n brings a hand to the back of her neck awkwardly, searching her mind for an explanation.

“Boyfriend?” His voice is soft, small, and he knows there are other people in the cafeteria but he can’t bring himself to care about their stares. 

Y/N turns to him, and she feels her cheeks warm as she tries to avoid his eyes, “well. Only if you want to-”

“I want to.” Shinsou replies too quickly, his cheeks flushing.

Y/N nods, “cool.” 

“Cool.” 

Izuku can’t help but beam as he watches the interaction, hitting Iida’s arm repetitvely as as he exclaims, “does this mean I’ll be able to study his quirk more?”

Tsu just sighs, “this means we don’t have to listen to her pining anymore.” 

TODOROKI SHOUTO

THIS ONE

probably the most relaxed about it, not flustered at all, you tried thoughh

your relationship isn’t really a secret, it’s just that neither of you are that into PDA. 

there will be occasional cuddling on the common room couch of the dorms during movie night, but that’s seen as normal to the rest of Class 1-A. during dates, there will be hand holding, a kiss on the cheek, an arm around the shoulder, otherwise most of the intimacy is reserved for your rooms

this lack of PDA is why class 1-A was completely unaware that the two of you were dating, 

though you hadn’t tried to hide it, you also hadn’t made it entirely public, you also lowkey thought everyone knew.

mostly because it was so blatantly obvious that shoto was in love with you, but the entire class thought he was unaware of his own feelings and you were just oblivious 

oh how wrong they were

you come into class one day and you see shoto and you’re just like lol hi babe and you kiss him, he kisses back, LIKE IT IS THE MOST NORMAL THING

he’s temporarily caught off guard because like i said you two don’t really do PDA, but he digs it, 10/10 would kiss you again in front of everyone, mostly because after all of the CHAOS that this kiss causes, the other boys in the class stop blatantly flirting with you

speaking of chaos

the class erupts into PURE CHAOS

so much yelling and screaming, they are so confused, have fun explaining that one

shoto is equally confused as to why they are confused and you’re just laughing because you knew this would mess with their heads. he ends up getting a little flustered by all the sudden attention the two of you are getting, but maintains his apathetic attitude.

Shoto places his bag beside his desk before pulling his things out one by one to place them onto the desk along with the small cup of coffee. Shoto wasn’t really the coffee type himself, he preferred tea, Y/N on the other hand had an obsession if he was honest. Of course, he enabled this obsession, he liked being the one to bring a smile onto her face. 

Yeah, he was whipped.

He could tell when Y/N entered the room because the atmosphere seemed to change entirely, she seemed to brighten everyone’s mood despite how early it was. Greeting their other classmates, she began to move towards him, seeing that he was holding a cup of coffee, Y/N raised a brow. “You drink coffee now?” She asked as she placed her things down. 

Shaking his head, Shoto extended the hand with the cup of coffee towards him, “it’s for you.” He explained, small smile on his face.

The rest of their classmates watched the interaction, Kirishima punching Kaminari’s arm as he exclaimed, “so manly!”

Bakugou scoffed from beside the both of them, “if he was really manly then maybe he’d actually ask her out.” Crossing his arms, he averts his eyes from the two, finding the class’s obsession with their relationship a tad ridiculous. Though everyone seemed to be at least slightly invested in the potential outcome at this point. 

“Whatever, Bakugo.” Mina says, “L/N has the prettiest boy in class wrapped around her finger- ugh! I want someone to love me like that.” She places her head in her hand, brows furrowing as she stares at the two. Y/N is smiling widely at Shoto, who returns her smile with one of his own. 

And then Y/N kisses him. As though this is an everyday thing. 

Mina practically jumps out her seat, and though Bakugo would never admit it, his mouth gaped open in shock as she cried out, “did you two just kiss?!”

Shoto’s cheeks are red as they pull away, though his face remains apathetic as he looks to the ground and Y/N replies, “can I not kiss my boyfriend?” She tilts her head in confusion, laughing slightly at the outburst and the clear shock in everyone’s faces. 

“Boyfriend?” Hagaruke cried out. “Why didn’t you tell us?!”

Y/N’s brows furrows as she looks to the rest of the astonished class, “did you guys seriously not know? I thought we were obvious, I literally call him by his first name-”

“We thought that was because you two were madly in love with each other but neither could confess!” Momo exclaimed suddenly, her cheeks flaming red at her outburst as she slaps a hand over her mouth.

Mina simply nods in agreement, “exactly! But now he’s buying you coffee and-”

Shoto shakes his head in confusion, “I often buy her coffee, normally she finishes it before we get to class.” He looks to Y/N, a small frown on her face, “today she woke up too late for me to walk her to school so I couldn’t give it to her then-”

“You’re so manly, Todoroki!” Kirishima exclaims, though Shoto simply looks at him in confusion as he removes his hand from Y/N’s waist. 

Shrugging, he takes a seat at his desk and Y/N speaks once more, “I just don’t understand how you guys didn’t know.” Standing beside him as he organizes his things while seated, Y/N runs a hand through his hair, and Shoto’s cheeks seemed to redden once more.

“You guys aren’t normally so touchy!” Uraraka has joined the conversation, shock clear in her features. 

Shoto nods in agreement,  “your behavior today is abnormal, Y/N.”

Now Y/N can feel her cheeks warm as she removes her hand and takes a seat t her desk, “you guys are weird.”

Izuku simply sighs, deflating almost as he watches the interaction and leans over towards Iida, “now I owe Kacchan money.” 

[lipstickbisous]

𝐢𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝟏

notes: this isn’t gonna be a long series, maybe like three or four parts!! but i feel like something with bucky was much needed! and it’s honestly impossible for me to write a pure fluff for him bc he’s such an angsty character.

and it’s going to sound like a stucky fic but maybe that's foreshadowing, maybe not...and (you’ll see later) but this isn’t skinny shaming!! it’s just sort of to exaggerate how hurt the reader is

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, former!steve rogers x reader

summary: in which steve rogers is the villian, and two stranded strangers find solace in each other.

warnings: ANGST, steve is a dick, mentions of anxiety and not eating,

word count: 3.9k

masterlist - series masterlist

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰ bucky’s alone now, but then again, he always has been. that feeling of emptiness that sits deep inside his stomach and visits him every hour of the day isn’t foreign. in fact, he’s been living with it for seventy years now and in a lifetime, he’s gotten used to it. bucky used to be terrified of the void he’d see when he went to sleep every night. his room in siberia was dark, the walls were drab, and the floors were dirtied with mud and dried blood. thankfully, that was his past. he thought bucarest would be his new home, even if it was a tiny apartment with creaky floors and a leakyceiling, it was his. he’d even placed a few flowers he’d picked in a small vase on his dining table, but they’d died in a matter of days and bucky had never gone flower picking again. however, when the newspapers read of the winter soldier and the attack in vienna, he knew it was time to run again. steve had been waiting for him. he had every reason to be cautious, but to see a face that was slightly familiar--bucky’s memory was still foggy--made him realize that maybe...he wasn’t so alone anymore. maybe steve could explain to tony that it wasn’t bucky at the UN, maybe they would invite him into their home and help him, and maybe he would finally have a family. wrong. bucky felt that it was partially his fault that steve could no longer return to his life. steve rogers was now a fugitive on the run because his best friend couldn’t control himself. but even bucky found hope in that--they could be on the run together. “it’ll be like old times” he’d told himself before falling asleep on the quinjet, only to wake up in a foreign country and steve saying goodbye. if bucky was being honest, his time in wakanda had been the most peace he had in over seventy years. he’d been frozen for six months, but it wasn’t the same way HYDRA had done it. before, he would wake up with freezer-burn bruises, unhealed cuts, and random sore spots. but when he’d opened his eyes to a utopian city-like view, bucky was...relieved. the sight of the jungle every morning was a soothing reminder that the violence of his previous life was over. there was no strange ache in his back anymore. “when healing, the best thing to do after caring for yourself is caring for others”. the goats had been a gift from t’challa, and bucky’s heart was constantly swelling as the year passed and they grew. he’d traded the metal arm for a patterned cloak and lived in the outskirts of the city. it was the quiet, peaceful life that bucky had been looking forward to since 1945. until steve rogers wove his way back into his life with the reasoning that “the world is in danger and we’re the ones to save it”. of course, bucky was glad to see a familiar face after two years, but steve was also a nudge that the quiet peace was over and would be for a while. all bucky could remember was calling out to steve and a dryness in his throat as his stomach rumbled like he hadn’t eaten a single piece of food in months. his bones started to wobble in their places, he lost control of spasming muscles before he watched his fingers, hand, and soon arm turn into particles of ash that would collect on the forest floor of wakanda. his eyes closed and his mind rested. it was almost like being frozen again, except there wasn’t the stinging sensation of ice collecting on his skin. when he woke, a strange man in a red cape was telling him, “we have to go. they need us.” he’d watched tony die without ever receiving a real apology from bucky. not that it was necessary, but bucky still held guilt for every assassination and mission he’d done. he’d comforted steve with the loss of his friend, and just for a split second, bucky had hope. life would be good from then on--he and steve would finally be there for each other. it’d be like life in brooklyn before super heroes and mad titans taking over the universe. he knew that steve would help him settle, find his own place, walk through public without strange stares, and maybe even get a girl. “i’m gonna go back for her,” steve had said one night. they’d been sitting at the dining table in his apartment. he’d been gracious enough to let bucky stay until he could get back on his feet, but the place suddenly didn’t feel like home. “i saw her...when we went back. i just- it felt so right. to see her right then and there.”bucky was speechless to say the least. he didn’t need a name to know who had their hand around steve’s heart. his hand gripped the couch cushion, feeling the stiff stuffing crumple in his palm.

“but what about (y/n)? a-and i’ll need help finding an apartment, a small one in brooklyn is fine, but-”

“you can have this one,” steve shrugged, crossing his arms and leaning back on the couch. his eyebrows were furrowed in such a way that he almost looked confused, but bucky knew that steve had already made up his mind. he would return the stones tomorrow and never come back. “and she knows, buck, i wouldn’t just leave without telling her.”

it all hit bucky like a brick. “that’s why i haven’t seen her around lately,” he nodded slowly, but there was a pit in his stomach. it left a shaky feeling in his throat and the contents of his dinner were threatening to spill.

steve nodded, but he didn’t seem to be so bothered. “she’s not happy...obviously,” he sighed. “but i went without her for five years. i know this sounds awful, buck, trust me, i’m the one who had to tell her, but...i just sort of got used to life without her, as hard as it was.” meanwhile, bucky was still processing being alone all over again. “but you can have this place. sam will be here, and (y/n)...it’ll take time but i know she’ll heal. it’ll be okay.”

the next day, bucky noticed that (y/n) didn’t arrive to the lake house. she wasn’t there to wave steve goodbye, or to watch him return with gray hair and a wrinkled forehead, to hand off the shield to sam. it was hard to imagine how she felt--a man she’d abandoned her own life for now abandoned her. steve knew she had every right to be mad, but something about the way it didn’t even bother steve to leave her behind was infuriating. bucky had turned from the platform, ignoring sam’s yells of confusion and banner’s frustrated only to see a white-haired man sitting in front of the lake.

he wanted to run towards steve and wrap his arms around him, but the thought of her alone now angered the deepest pit in his stomach. bucky wanted to collide his fist into the old man’s cheek—steve’s been punched before, sure, he can take it again—but bucky froze. steve’s eyes were old and withered, and as heartbreaking as it was, they looked tired. the wrinkles on his cheeks and forehead showed he’d lived his life and experienced it well. and deep down, bucky knew it was what he deserved. but why’d he have to leave the people who loved him to do it?

―

(y/n) was seeing a world of crimson and blazing fire. everything in her mind was crumbling while everyone else celebrated reunions. families were brought back together, loved ones returned, but instead, she was left alone. steve rogers had taken her heart in his palm and toyed with it for seven long years. she’d followed him blindly and let him lead her through flames.when she’d returned, she could sense that time had passed. five years that could’ve been spent with steve—maybe even marrying and finding a home, starting a family—were gone. of course, that was the first thing that came to mind when (y/n) felt herself awaking from a sickening sleep. she had risen in the forest floor of wakanda and noticed bucky by her side, just as confused as she was. but instead of realizing the world needed saving, she thought of steve.

it’d been a month after tony’s funeral. she’d settled back into this new world rather well in her opinion and finally she had a peaceful life with the man she loved. a small apartment in brooklyn was a big enough home for (y/n) when steve was there with her. bucky even stayed during the nights. life felt...normal. she could get used to this. “you know i love you,” steve had told her one night. the tv had been quietly playing a stupid reality show that (y/n) had five years worth of season to catch up on. with his feet propped up on the couch, one arm on the back and one around her shoulders, he squeezed.

there was a giggle—one that steve hadn’t heard in half a decade and missed it dearly. “i know, stevie,” she smiled before popping a chip in her mouth. she offered one to steve, but when she turned to face him, (y/n) was met with a blank expression and a deeper one of discomfort. “hey, are you okay?” panic attacks had become frequent with steve—he’d been alone for so long and having everyone back all at once (while losing a few as well) was overwhelming. he nodded slowly before gently taking the bag of chips from her hold placing it on the coffee table. he switched the tv off and pulled (y/n) closer to him. her eyebrows knitted in confusion before he blurted,

“i need to go back.” from there on, she had no reaction. the salty taste of potato chips was gone and her throat was empty. whatever he said next was hard to hear as her hearing was muffled but the words were burned into (y/n)’s mind. “i don’t belong here, doll, you always knew that. i have the chance to go back, to have everything in a time where i should be. and honey...it’s been five years. i’ve been so alone for five years, it’s hard for you—and everyone else—to just come back like this.”she didn’t fight it. she didn’t argue or slap his chest, she didn’t bite her tongue or cry. there were words she threatened to scream—“i can help you through this”, “you belong with me”, “i can go back with you”, “how can you do this?”—but instead she kept in silence. her lips gently parted with a breath of air, but suddenly, the oxygen in the shared home felt toxic. and it was then she realized it.

steve always sugarcoated things. he could never be the one to tell someone they’ve been diagnosed with cancer; he’d do it so politely the person wouldn’t even realize it. it was in his dna to be kind. (y/n) used to think that steve had inherited it from his mother. but he wasn’t leaving because he belonged in the past. he wasn’t telling her this with honesty. steve rogers was an honest man but even when sugarcoating things he could lie. he was going back to be with peggy simply because he loved her more.

maybe that’s what hurt the most. she could deal with steve leaving—so many people in her life had left and she’d hoped he wouldn’t be one of them—but how was she supposed to live with the fact that his heart belonged to someone else? had peggy been holding his heart while he was holding (y/n)’s this entire time? it was lie that had its truth and she didn’t want any business in knowing it. so she left. gone that night while he slept on the couch. she didn’t even need to kick him out of the bedroom; steve always knew what was good for him. but when the clock read 12:00 in a harsh shade of red, (y/n) had jumped to the closet and began packing as much as she could fit into one large suitcase. she supposed that after he returned the stones and was reunited with his first love, she could come back to the apartment and retrieve the rest of her belongings. when she tip-toed past the living room and kitchen, slipping on a pair of shoes at the front door, there was a stinging her heart. she watched as he soundly slept, large arms clinging onto a thick pillow. steve’s lips let out the smallest snores that (y/n) once found sweet and gentle. but spending anymore time in that apartment would tear her apart, so the next second she was gone.

sure, there’s been at least fifty unanswered and stranded texts and calls left by sam and she had no intentions to respond. he was a constant reminder of a man that she used to (and still) loved. then, one day, she’d listened to the countless voicemails—and a special one left the news that steve had finally left. sam sounded frantic and upset but (y/n) knew there was content deep down that he felt for steve. “this is the life he deserved, i know that,” sam had sighed. “but i’m so sorry, (y/n). from the bottom of my heart and i know steve is too.”

his words meant nothing to her. no apology could mend whatever was left of (y/n). and she knew she wasn’t the only one hurting. instead of giving the apartment—the one that she and steve had bought together as a home—to her, steve gave it to bucky. she’d never gotten to know the ex-soldier, but how could steve, someone she spent seven years of her life with, leave her alone without even a place to stay? (y/n) was ultimately alone. she no longer had steve, along with tony and natasha. the three people she loved the most, one of them a man she thought she’d spend her life with, were gone. and the worst part was, there were people who were trying to comfort her so she wasn’t as alone. she’d managed to find a cramped apartment that, for some reason, always smelled like cheese, and sam would show up at the door with groceries or flowers every wednesday morning. sometimes, he’d stay outside and knock for an hour straight, but (y/n) was stubborn.

“you know, you’ve gotta out there someday,” steve’s voice would talk to her with that brooklyn drawl that she missed. “it’s not good to stayed cooped up like this. besides, i don’t think the air quality in this building isn’t the best, doll.” (y/n) would either shoo away the imprinted shadow he’d left behind in her mind or fall into its dark pit. “maybe none of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t left me alone those five years”, “you just weren’t good enough”, “i had to go back, she’s just better than you are.” he’d spew harsh truths to her, ruining good dreams into nightmares and it was becoming constant. when (y/n) awoke in a cold sweat, the sight of steve—with golden hair and smooth skin—still burned in her mind, she’d pinch herself to remember that steve now had gray hair and wrinkles, and he’d lived his life with someone else.

fortunately, (y/n) wasn’t alone. bucky barnes was just as exhausted and isolated as she was. there were countless missions being via mail or through this strange thing “email”, but he hadn’t bothered to check them. he’d locked his doors and closed the blinds, bidding farewell to the outside world. bucky did deserve it--seventy years spent killing and hurting others without a sense of control for himself. he deserved to live peacefully. but it was hard for both (y/n) and bucky to do so when the image of steve rogers lived on in their minds.

bucky knew a life of loneliness wasn’t a life at all. he’d gone by himself for so long, and although he enjoyed staying inside the apartment that still slightly smelled like steve and being able to deny any source of socialization, he was aware that being alone would take its toll soon enough. it’d taken a few tries to get (y/n) to pick up the phone. the first time she had, she’d let it sit by her ear for three seconds before hanging up--three more tries later and a breakfast at the small diner three blocks away was planned.

bucky had been sitting patiently at a booth with incredibly uncomfortable seating, causing him to rapidly jump his foot up and down. he’d worn a black hoodie with ripped hems around the cuffs, but as long as it covered up the metal arm, he was fine. there was a jingling sound as the front door opened and a hissing as it shut. sunlight poured from behind (y/n), casting an elongated shadow across the cliche checkered floor that reminded bucky of his first life.

she wore discreet and dark clothing--something incredibly unlike her. her combat boots hit the tiles with gentle footsteps but something about (y/n)’s entrance set a tension in the air and every person in the restaurant could feel it. however, she walked past them unnoticeably. it’s her job. bucky reminded himself, but felt a little spiral in his stomach when she sat herself down across from him. there was a strand of hair that fell from behind her ear, and it complimenting the frame of her face but she was quick to brush it back.

at first, it was silent--so silent that their ears picked up even the smallest conversations of other customers and waitresses. they scanned over the plastic menus, took occasional sips from their waters, and earned suspicious stairs from their waiter. “breakfast or lunch?” bucky had muttered, looking above his menu to peek at (y/n). her expression hadn’t changed since she entered the diner.

“you choose,” she shrugged, leaning back in the booth and slapping the menu shut. “not that hungry, though.”

he uncomfortably nodded and shifted in his seat before picking his order. their waitress--a short girl with curly blonde hair pulled back into a slick bun with tiny fly-aways, dressed in a cheesy pink dress--returned to their table. ���d’you know what you want to order?” she giddily smiled, covering the suspicions she had; why were there two avengers in the restaurant...and why did they look so sad? (y/n) looked up threw the corner of her eye to the waitress name badge. it read ‘peggy’ in capitalized golden letters, and (y/n) suddenly felt sick. thankfully, bucky noticed her discomfort.

“just the eggs and toast,” he politely smiled, but there was a sting in his heart as well and it was getting harder to ignore. “over medium.” he looked over to the girl across him and motioned for her to talk.

“just another water,” (y/n) deeply gritted, barely even moving her lips to speak. her eyes burned into the table and peggy was quick to return to the kitchens. the former avenger clenched the plastic pepsi cup in her hand and spun it around so the melting ice inside clinked against the edges. bucky’s eyes didn’t leave her frame.

he leaned forward on his elbows and held his right hand his metal one he’d covered with a glove. it definitely looked odd to be wearing one glove inside when the summer air was returning, but it was better than the stares he’d get if he revealed the prosthetic. “don’t you think you should eat something, (y/n)?” bucky gently pushed, leaning even closer to make some sort of eye contact. her arms were smaller, her cheeks were hollow, and her jaw protruded from her neck. she covered it well with a bulky sweatshirt but her entire frame was thinner.

with another small shrug, she swished the water around before taking a small sip. it was chilling the back of her throat when a tiny piece of ice made it past her lips. “don’t like breakfast food.” it was a lie and bucky knew it. although (y/n) had been tried to lie her whole life, he wasn’t stupid. her lips slightly twitched to the left with her fabrication. and if there was one thing bucky did know, it was that steve rogers was a believer in good breakfast food. bucky could imagine the countless morning meals he cooked himself for (y/n), but the soldier didn’t push her to talk about it. both were in pain, it was evident to anyone who walked past them. “why am i here?”

“i thought we could talk,” bucky’s shoulders relaxed with the quietest sigh. the sudden aroma of bacon frying and the sizzling of fried eggs filled the restaurant, adding onto the white noise flowing through his ears. “it’s been a month, and i know you don’t want to see him-” your eyes snapped to his and he held his hands up cautiously. “i won’t make you. because i understand.” her left eyebrows arched. “he left both of us. i know sam’s dealing with it, but it’s not hurting him the same, hun,” she internally cringed at the name. “i think--and there’s a chance i’m reaching too far, if i am, just tell me--but we’re sharing the same situation. maybe we can help each other through it.”

before (y/n) could even being to process his offer, peggy returned with a large plate of steaming eggs and bacon. she set it in front of bucky, along with three small packets of butter, and in front of (y/n) a second glass of water. once she returned to her other tables, bucky harshly cut into an egg with his left arm, releasing a screeching noise of metal against porcelain. there was a dark line against the plate and he set the knife down. “still getting used to it,” he motioned to the arm with a hesitant laugh. (y/n) responded with a nod.

“but i’m serious. it’s not this good to be alone, i should know,” he lathered one side of his toast with the pale yellow-colored butter, watching it melt into the grain. “we don’t have to talk about him. although, it might pay off at some point...but what do you say?”

everything was spinning inside (y/n)’s mind. the voices partaking in other conversations were drowning out with the clinking of forks and knives, the bustling in the kitchens, and the clinking of the cash register. eventually, they all began to mix together and soon enough, bucky’s plate was empty. he allowed (y/n) to sit in the silence of their discussion blended with other various noises. the ice in their waters had finally melted so that the drinks became room-temperature and were now untouched. however long they’d been there, they didn’t know. it had been a while since (y/n) was able to sit in peaceful quiet with another person without the constant questioning of steve rogers. 

outside the window, the sun was lowering in the sky, hanging by just a thread. (y/n) wasn’t exactly sure about everything going on in her mind, but she found a sense of calm in the man across from her. the new haircut suited him well, sharpening his jaw and chin already more so than before. his stubble contrasted the image of a clean-shaven man that sat inside her mind, but the blue eyes were the same. “sure,” she tried to smile, but pathetically curved her lips in an unflattering way. however, bucky’s heart fluttered. (y/n) extended her arm towards him with her hand flat out.

“friends.”

―

tags: @babyyhoneyydarling @honeysucklesteve @emmabarnes @fallinforevans @saint-bvcky @steverrogers @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @rxcklessly-bratty @brattycherubwrites @hevans-angel @geniedetails @inactivewhore @steebsbabygirl @sultrygoblin @learisa @nony-bear @cloudystevie

[feetoffire]

Captain Christopher Pike, the rec list

I had this almost finished and ready to post, and then the kitten wiped everything, so here it is, a gazillion years later than I wanted. Yay. 

Ongoing - the fic is complete, but not all chapters are posted

WIP - fic isn’t finished

Incomplete - last-updated-more-than-a-year-ago WIPs

recs under the cut; spoilers abound

AOS

Gen

Pike’s Office by AnxiouslyGoing. Poor Jim has a Tarsus related panic attack, and ends up sleeping in Pike’s office/on Pike’s lap. Academy Era, bonus appearance by Spock, dad!Pike. 2k oneshot.

Another Life by LullabyKnell. Time travel fix it for ST2009. As ever, LullabyKnell gave us a spectacular, delightfully well-written fic. Dadmiral Pike, even if he’s technically a captain at this point. No pairings, everything is platonic. 12 chapters, 61k, T. Complete. 

Watching the Cloud of Dust by AngelQueen. Pike runs into Spock Prime while seeing the Enterprise off. Cue melancholy fluff (it follows Spock Prime around like a dog). 1.7k oneshot, G.

Phil Boyce/Chris Pike

horizons universe by gracieminabox. Massive, massive series spanning the whole of Chris’ life. Not canon compliant, i.e. Pike Lives. “Christopher Pike, in word and in deed.” Series, 263k in seventeen parts, G-E. 

Altered Horizons by InsaneSociopath. The bar fight goes very differently because Chris gets elbowed in the face. Featuring depressed!bipolar!Chris, who is Not Having A Good Time, Emergency Department (ED) doc Bones, and mother-hen!Jim. Phil is essentially Sir Not Appearing In This Fic, but he and Chris are married. Seven chapters, 14k, G. Incomplete. I adore this one. 

When Darkness Drifts by InsaneSociopath. Tarsus fic. Jim gets adopted by Starfleet but still ends up on Tarsus, except Chris is there. All Tarsus-related warnings apply. Jim and Chris centric; Phil is most present in the last few chapters. Six chapters, 44k, M. Complete. 

Kinktober 2017 by nerdqueenenterprise. What it says on the tin. Series, 13k in eight parts, T-E. Complete. 

A Vacation Long Overdue by nerdqueenenterprise. Reunion sex, mostly. They haven’t seen each other in six months, so they take leave on a remote beach. ~9k oneshot, E. 

The Weight of a Man by imachar. Another huge series charting the evolution of Chris and Phil’s relationship. Both canon compliant and canon non-compliant, so there’s a choice if you want it. Series, 174k in sixteen parts, M-E. Complete. 

shatterproof by gracieminabox. Will Make You Cry. Phil’s POV, STID compliant, featuring a picture from their early days. 4.3k oneshot, M.

Winged Desires and Veiled Persuasions by imachar. Post-Narada, ignores/was written before STID. Bones ends up hanging out with Phil and Chris at Spuhura’s wedding reception, and then the three of them have sex in Phil and Chris’ hotel suite. Pretty much pure smut. 12k oneshot, E. 

McPike

The Wind and Its Satellite by severinne. Long series, some BDSM, eventual Bones/Jim/Pike. Something of a McPike classic. Series, 186k in twenty parts, M-E.

Partridge Fallen From the Pear Tree by severinne. Post-divorce Bones works as a prostitute to make ends meet. Pike comes to town to recruit him, ends up paying for a night without knowing Bones is Bones, and then they both freak the fuck out when Pike realizes who he is. More-or-less just smut and angst. Pre-canon. Three chapters, 12k, E. Complete.

Singularities Verse by FrancescaMonterone. Bones and Pike fall in love, Pike adopts Chekov, Jim is Jim. Bonus Admirals Archer and Reed, and Archer/Reed. Mostly pre-canon, ace Pike. Series, 81k in six parts, T. WIP. 

Need by Noranem. Post STID, Pike and Bones invite Jim into their relationship and their bed. Established McPike, early days Bones/Jim/Pike. Four chapters, 12k, E. Complete. 

Pirk

See All The Stars by HoneyBeeBritt. Chris and Jim fell in love some time before Daystrom. Fluff and angst, with a happy ending promised in part four. I come back to this one regularly, especially part one. Series, 6.2k in three parts, T-M. Ongoing.

Shining On The Quay by topaz. Post-Narada through Beyond, ignores STID. Chris and Jim fall in love, get together, and figure out how to keep a relationship going when one of them is in space and the other is an admiral. Series, 32k in three parts, E. Complete. 

You Still Got Wheels, Kid by withthepilot. Yes, this is partially on here because it’s one of the few (good) fem!Pike fics. Pre-canon, Pike finds out Jim’s alive because she (not Winona or Sam) is listed as his emergency contact. Prostitute Jim. Takes place two years before canon, I think. 12k oneshot, E. 

Moments along the path by InsaneSociopath. Jim, through no fault of his own, is assigned to Pike as an aide bc Command thinks he’s a loose cannon. Pike is delighted /s. (he warms up eventually.) Some Tarsus PTSD; also a fair amount of fluff. Academy Era slow burn that goes right through to (immediately) post-Narada. 46k oneshot, M. Second chapter is artwork. Long but 100% worth it. 

How Do You Want Me, How Do You Want Me? by babykid528. Get together via smut. Feelings abound but talking about them does not. 3k oneshot, E. 

The Ocean Between Us by severinne. They get a drink in a bar. They’re both dead. Something of a get-together fic. Can and Will sucker punch you with feels. STID compliant. 1k oneshot, T.

Mutual Profusion of Good Feeling (aka Wherein the Aliens have a Flair for Mood Lighting) by kayliemalinza. This doesn’t really count as Pirk, but it’s not platonic enough for the gen category. Away mission, the premise is ‘aliens made them do it’ but there’s no sex or fade to black. Romantic, I guess? I really don’t know, but the prose is gorgeous. Also a Pike Lives/returns to the Enterprise AU. 5k oneshot, T.

Timeline Shenanigans

In plain view by IceCream_Junkie, Killermanatee. Pike/Pike. What can I say? The image of Greenwood’s Pike and Mount’s Pike together is very pretty. 2k oneshot, E.

Out of This World by TheAsexualofSpades. Space Puns. That is all. 1.1k oneshot, G. 

Discovery/quasi-SNW

Gen

A Small Storm by EKthered. Spock goes to visit his captain and ends up comforting him instead. Post Boreth. 2.3k oneshot. 

you were never broken by ordinary things by SiderumInCaelo. Michael Burnham & Chris Pike. Michael has only an inkling of what’s going on, but she manages to comfort Chris anyway. Post Boreth. 1.2k oneshot. 

Piler | Chris Pike/Ash Tyler

the chair and the badge by ninjamcgarrett. The boys are soft and in love. Lots of smut, but a fair amount of plot. Their respective traumas are addressed too, so there’s plenty of h/c. Honestly? My favorite from this pairing. Series, 59k in five parts, M-E. Ongoing. 

Reality by aishahiwatari. Initially a take on how these two idiots settled their differences, and evolution from there. Part two is post-season two of Disco. Series, 5k in two parts, E. Complete.

survival is insufficient by topaz. Post-Disco; they get together to remember Discovery’s crew, and then they get together. Traumas are addressed. Part two is a sort-of case fic, TW starvation. Series, 33k in two parts, E. WIP.

Feeling Too Deeply by NightOfTheLand. Established Piler, post-Disco season two couch sex. 6k oneshot, E. 

dancing to a beat of our own, flying with the speakers blown by wolfhalls. Neither of them want to talk about anything, aka Horrible Coping Mechanisms TM. Bottom Pike, quasi-hurt/comfort. 2.7k oneshot, E. 

Christmas in Sickbay by lah_mrh. Chris is accident- and injury-prone and has a new reason to hate spiders. Ash just wants to spend time with his boyfriend. 1k oneshot, G. 

The Pillow Will Disappear When I Forget I Put a Pillow There, Worry Not by prototype_malice. Sleepy fluff and cuddles. (they deserve it.) 665 words, oneshot, G. 

Chris Pike/Una | Number One 

it will take place without witnesses by love_in_the_time_of_kohlinahr. Post Disco, Pike is struggling with the knowledge of his future, so he and Una play chess until stupid o’clock in the morning (as one does), and then he lowkey has a panic attack. Una POV. Also features sleepy sex, but it isn’t plot-important and can be skipped over, if you wish. 2k oneshot, E. 

Overtime by Astronoddingoff. Una has Thoughts about Chris working doubles for the better part of a week. Also men get pegged. Definite sub!Chris. 7k oneshot, E. 

Terminal Velocity by Astronoddingoff. Una pegs Chris and drags his favorite fantasy out of him. Chris is On Board with all of this. Implied poly!Chris (i.e. Boyce/Pike) and hardcore switch/sub vibes from Chris. 6.8k oneshot, E. 

All for One by knightinmourning. D/s universe, where Pike had/has to hide the fact that he’s a sub to make (and stay) captain. Mostly reccing for part two, which has a fair amount of hurt/comfort (and also hints at threatened sexual assault and definite torture; be forewarned). Technically also Chris/Phil and Chris/Spock, but there’s no pairing sex, and part two is entirely Una’s POV. Series, 4.2k in two parts, M-E. Probably incomplete. 

A Gentle Touch by jedi_harkness. Chris and Una shower together. Body worship, no sex. So Much Fluff (and also happy tears). It’s super sweet. 1.7k oneshot, T.

Phil Boyce/Chris Pike

Decompression by Astronoddingoff. Chris is elated by a recent treaty success and the time spent dirtside. Phil does his best to make him even happier. Lowkey sub Pike. Implied poly!Chris (i.e. Pike/One). 3.5k oneshot, E. 

Most Pike/Boyce fics fall under the AOS tags

Una/Phil/Chris

Triangulate by Astronoddingoff. Sex pollen, but they’re already-kind-of-mostly in an established relationship. Recent miscommunications lead to angst. They all love each other and they’re all idiots. Lowkey sub Pike. Two chapters, 20k, E. 

Holy by Astronoddingoff. Self-actualizing featuring religious guilt/conflict, i.e. Pike is a sub and religion is weird about enjoying yourself. 2.7k oneshot, E. 

Happy Birthday by MeganMoonlight. It’s Phil’s birthday. Cue breakfast in bed. 530 word oneshot, G. 

[dumdumsun]

Of Starlight

A/N: Onto the final five chapters ❤️ Dw though bc season two is still being written, so we’re not done here

Warnings: mentions of blood and violence

Word Count: 2571

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Chapter 16: Accomplices

The pain in Five’s side was still stinging, but he tried to ignore it as they entered the pub. He was fortunate to have someone like (Y/N) fretting over his well-being enough to let him lean some of his weight on her as they walked. Her arm was wrapped around his waist, hand resting above his wound, his own arm wrapped around her waist. Klaus, once seeing Luther, turned to his siblings and pointed towards their colossal brother. “Look.” He smiled as if to say ‘told you so’. The four of them approached the table Luther settled for, the man staring up at them under heavy brows. “Trying a little hair of the dog, are we? Hm?” Klaus lightly teased.

“Leave me alone.” He sulked, bringing his cup to his lips. The four leaned closer to provide their own words of encouragement to get him to work with them, but Diego sat beside his brother.

“Give us a minute.” Was all he said. The three others stared at the vigilante for a second before Klaus shrugged.

“Okay. Come on. Maybe they’ll brood each other to death.” He walked away from the table, motioning for the younger two to follow. (Y/N) turned the both of them around and walked with Klaus. They leaned on a table that was almost out of total earshot of the conversation. The three wordlessly watched the two of them talk, catching but a few words now and again. Beside her, (Y/N) felt Five lean up straight, away from her side. He braced both hands on the table behind him, trying to steady himself. She stared at the boy in concern and shifted a little closer. His head turned to her and watched as she motioned for him to lean against her again, if he wanted. Five’s eyes flicked around her face, seriously conflicted about whether or not he wanted to be comforted and assisted by the only person who truly took it upon themselves to do so. But he figured she’d been caring for him for so long, she seemed happy to do just about anything for him. What more was simply letting her help him stand straight? He wouldn’t hesitate to do it for her. So, with a small grunt, he pressed his uninjured side against her, the girl smiling contently and wrapping her arm around him again. Klaus’s movement beside them caught their attention. He tapped his wrist with his finger as if to symbolize a wristwatch. Five only nodded at him either in acknowledgement or confirmation, (Y/N) didn’t know.

She very gently kissed Five’s hair once Klaus looked away again. “How’re you feeling?” She whispered. The boy hummed and shifted his feet. Reaching up, he held onto the hand of the arm wrapped around his shoulders. The gentle squeeze he gave was enough to answer her question. The three at the table perked their heads up at Luther’s exclamation, “You should’ve led with that!” The man pushed himself out of his chair and hurried towards the exit. Five and (Y/N) glanced at each other before following their brother. Literally ripping the door off its hinges, Luther charged out of the pub, his siblings hurrying after.

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

Daylight had burnt out by the time Allison returned to the cabin from the hospital, where she had abandoned the officer she’d been deceiving into helping her find clues about Vanya and Leonard. As she ascended the small staircase to the porch, the sound of violin music reached her ears and a wind that seemed to only be affecting the area surrounding the cabin blew around just about everything. She stalked towards the entrance of the cabin, perplexed by the random occurrence around her. “Vanya? Is that you?” She called out, but only received violin strings in response. Fortunately, the front door was unlocked, granting her easy access. Stepping inside, Vanya was standing in the middle of the lounge room, absorbed in her music as that same wind shook the lights above them, the curtains, and rocked the chairs beside her. “Vanya, there you are. What is going on?” Allison closed the door behind her as her sister ceased the playing and turned to her.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to find you. Are you okay?”

Vanya hesitated. “Yeah?”

“There’s something… weird going on. What’s causing it?”

The chirping of the crickets outside saved them from the silence that would’ve followed Allison’s question. Vanya shifted on her feet before tilting her chin up. “Me.”

Allison, suspicious, slowly walked closer. “What do you mean, ‘me’?”

“I mean… I made those things happen. With my powers,” Her words made Allison stop altogether and stare in shock. “Turns out I’ve had them all this time. It’s weird, huh?”

It took her a few seconds, but Allison eventually let out a choked gasp, blinking and shaking her head. “It’s- It’s incredible.”

Sensing that there was more to why she was there, Vanya furrowed her brows. “But?”

“Can- Can we do this in the car?”

“Why?”

“You’re not gonna want to hear it.” Allison sighed. Vanya tilted her head with a false smile.

“Well, that’s never stopped you before.” She sassed. Allison looked away before taking a deep breath.

“Leonard Peabody? His real name is Harold Jenkins,” This information left Vanya speechless, staring at her sister with an unreadable expression as she walked closer to her. “Remember when I couldn’t find anything in the library on Leonard? It’s because Leonard Peabody doesn’t exist. Harold Jenkins does. He was in prison for twelve years. He murdered his father when he was thirteen-”

“This is… insane. His dad was an engineer at the-”

“I have the police report in the car, Vanya. I can show you.”

Vanya hesitated again, blinking slowly. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“Leonard, Harold, I- I know it doesn’t make any sense, and I know it sounds crazy, but we were in his house. He has pictures of all of us with our eyes gouged out.”

“W-What? I-”

“I promise I will tell you everything in the car, but it is not safe-” Allison began pulling her sister to the front door but Vanya stopped her.

“No, stop!” She sighed, exasperated, before taking a seat in one of the chairs. Allison knelt in front of her, not sure what to say.

“Look, um… I can’t imagine how hard it is for you to hear this...how you feel right now, but I… I love you, and I- I just… wanna be here for you, as your sister.”

“There’s just no way,” Vanya murmured, slightly shaking her head. “I mean, I love him. This just doesn’t make any sense. And this power… I- I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know what to do.” She began breaking down, placing her head in hands. As she sniffled, Allison stared off, in thought. Coming to a realization, she furrowed her brows.

“I understand now.”

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

The metal squealing of the door alerted the four-year-old (Y/N) to peek over at what was happening. Her father demanded that she stand with her back to them until she was told otherwise, but he wasn’t currently watching her. She watched as Grace walked into the dark room with a tray of food for Vanya, who had sat up in bed. (Y/N) was informed by her robotic mother that her sister was sick, so she had to be transported away from her and her siblings to avoid spreading her infection. She missed her dearly and always asked Grace to wish Vanya a speedy recovery for her. “Who’s hungry?” She heard her mother chirp. She couldn’t see much else, for after Allison walked in, their father stood in the doorway, blocking Vanya from her view. “Now. You have to take your medicine, like a good girl. It’ll help calm your nerves.”

(Y/N) turned her full body towards the room, truly curious as to why she was brought down here if she couldn’t even speak to Vanya. “It’s time, Number Three,” She heard Reginald’s voice. “Do it.” From the very slim space between her parents, she could see Allison walk up to Vanya, but not their faces or actions. After a few seconds of silence, Allison sighed and began to speak,

“I heard a rumor… you think you’re just ordinary.”

There were no other words spoken between her sisters. Allison was ordered to leave the room afterwards. When she joined her sister’s side, (Y/N) quickly grabbed hold of her hand. “What happened, sis?”

“I don’t know… I just… I had to use my power. But I don’t know why.”

“Oh…”

“Number Eight,” Their father’s voice made both girls jump and tilt their heads up. He stood before them, taking off his monocle. He then crouched before them and stared (Y/N) in her eyes. “Number Eight, summon a clone. Tell it to make sure Number Seven does not leave her room. No matter what. Understand?”

“I understand,” She whispered before turning away and singing her tune. From her shadow, a clone of herself appeared and stood motionless, awaiting an order. “Make sure… Make sure Seven doesn’t leave her room. No matter what.” She quietly ordered, the clone only walking past them and standing in front of the door. Reginald watched its every move, pleased when it didn’t do anything to defy its orders. He nodded and stood to his full height.

“Come along, Number Three, Number Eight.” He walked down the long hallway to exit. (Y/N) stared at her clone, not leaving her spot until Grace placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her down the hall.

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

“He made us accomplices.”

Tears in her eyes, Vanya could only stare at her sister in betrayal. Allison tried to meet her eyes, but darted her gaze back down to the floor in shame. “You did this to me…?”

“I… I didn’t realize.”

“You knew this whole time? That I had powers?!” Vanya jumped up from her chair and walked away, but Allison stood as well.

“No, no! I didn’t really understand until I came today, until I saw it.”

Vanya turned to her, her voice shaking as she spoke, “Well, now it all makes sense. This is why you guys never wanted me around.”

“What?! No!”

“You couldn’t risk me threatening your place in the house, your- your dominance. You and (Y/N) constantly whispering to each other, mocking me!”

“That is not true. Don’t blame (Y/N) like this, she didn’t-”

“You two couldn’t handle the fact that Dad might find me special!”

“You are special, Vanya! With or without powers!” Allison raised her voice. Vanya’s face began to flush red with anger.

“Don’t- Don’t say that! You destroyed my life!”

“Oh, please, Vanya. Everything is out in the open. We can move on!”

Vanya’s expression set into determination, as if she had decided on something. “Oh, I’m moving on. But not with you, with Leonard.”

“With Harold, you mean.”

“With Leonard! The only person who has ever loved me for me.”

Rumbling sounded quietly, but neither sister paid much attention. At Vanya’s words, Allison simply scoffed. Vanya lifted her chin. “Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not threatened now.” The wooden wind chimes clanked against each other as the curtains in front of the open windows swayed with the wind powered by Vanya. Allison glanced to the side, clearly nervous.

“I don’t wanna argue with you-”

“Then go!” Vanya boomed. Allison winced and slightly reared back as a crash could be heard from the distance. The wind picked up and their hair now flowed along with it.

“I’m only trying to help you-”

“I don’t want your help!” Vanya screamed.

“Vanya, I love you!” Allison cried.

“Stop saying that!!!”

Allison looked up as the lights flickered, the ceiling lamp swinging above their heads. She watched as Vanya’s power swayed the rocking chair, the items on the table, the dreamcatcher, then to her own sister, who looked as if she was going to explode from her heated anger. Glass smashed from somewhere in the house, but she was only worried about her sister. “Are you okay?”

“I! Said! Go!” Her scream sent the lights above them shattering. Allison gasped and tried to block the glass from falling onto her. She realized then that there was no stopping her sister in any reasonable manner. She choked on a sob as she set her eyes on Vanya.

“Please, don’t make me do this,” She cried, but Vanya only stood before her, silent, fuming. Allison gasped and opened her mouth. “I heard a rumor…” But she didn’t get to finish, for Vanya’s violin bow came into contact with her throat, slashing across it. All movement within the cabin halted as Allison gasped, then choked, blood squirting and streaming down to her chest. Realizing what she’d done, Vanya’s expression dropped, as well as her bow, as she rushed to her sister.

“Allison!” She grabbed ahold of her as Allison pressed her hand to her bleeding throat. They stared each other in the eyes as Allison began to fall to her knees. “No! No! Allison!” Once she fell to the floor, Vanya hovered over her, not knowing what to do. She screamed as her sister opened her mouth wide to talk, to squeak, to gasp, to do anything, but only her chokes were what left her lips.

“Vanya!” Leonard burst through the door. His face dropped at the sight before him.

“I didn’t mean to!” Vanya cried. But Leonard, once he came to terms with their current situation, smiled.

Almost excited.

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

The ride to Leonard’s grandmother’s cabin was silent. Five drove the car, eyes fixed on the road and beside him, Klaus sat in the passenger seat, his knees up to his chest. In the back, (Y/N) sat in between Luther and Diego, the latter staring out the window, the former tapping his foot to the floor of the car in impatience. Suddenly leaning forward, Luther was right behind Five. “Hey. Can you go any faster?”

“Ask me again, and I’ll burn you with a cigarette lighter.” Was all he said, but when Luther sat back again, the boy pressed on the gas harder.

Arriving at the cabin, Luther and (Y/N) were the first out of the car, bolting up the stairs with Klaus right on their heels. Luther burst inside, but he and (Y/N) froze at the sight before them.

“Allison!”

“No!”

Luther got to her before she could, kneeling down and gently lifting her head. Allison’s dark brown eyes were wide, blood still spilling from her open throat. Beside him, (Y/N) was sobbing into her hands, which were covering her mouth. Klaus was on his other side, his hands on Luther’s shoulder, watching as he cried for Allison, begging her to wake up, to look at him. (Y/N) reached one of her trembling hands forward and grasped Allison’s limp one in hers. Behind her, she heard Five’s feet scruff against the carpet.

She stood, stumbling back into the boy, but he caught hold of her before either could fall. He turned her in his hold and held her head against his shoulder, watching as Klaus lifted his head and glanced over at them with teary eyes. Five could’ve winced at the death grip (Y/N) had on his arms, but he didn’t.

—————————————

Taglist: @nate-isnt-great @43sparrows @sapphicsyn @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya @narikyuwu @sm0kingcrack @a-t-h-r-e-e-n-a @moatsnow @bubblegumflamingos @call-me-starstorm @rev-enviadhell @meowiemari @magicalgothpandamaker @simping-4-fictional-men @hehehehannahthings @harrystylescherrie @rhain3

[twoidiotwriters1]

Hollywood!AU -(Anne xFem!Reader)

A/N: Warning, this is LONG and ends up abruptly. I hope it was somehow near to what you were imagining! -Danny

Request: 🍇-Ik I'm late but I rly wanted to try this out. So the characters and me and a girl named 'angie' Anne. It's basically set in hollywood and they both are enemies, but they grow fond of each other over time and start dating. Paparazzi interfere and what not (i'm bored). Can you make it really angst and some smuts? (I'm a bi girl, btw) @nandos-hub-for-dumbasses​

Warnings: Mentions of smut and sad cuties

Twoidiots Masterlist

Okay so, you guys kinda grew up in the industry so you became “enemies” while being really young

And it was probably a silly fight, or maybe your parents put you against each other, or maybe you were always competing for the big parts on tv shows and movies

The point is that by the time you guys were seventeen you hated each other with a burning passion (as any seventeen-year-old does)

Then it happened: You were casted as best friends for an indie teen movie

You really wanted to refuse, but Ruby (your irl best friend) did her best to convince you against it

This could be your big break (and it was)

But only bc the chemistry you and Anne had on screen was ??? so wholesome and great???

You even made a sequel 

And then it became a trilogy, with your characters going to different schools by the time they graduate HS so it’s really cheesy and heartfelt

but Anne and you actually worked out your differences during the process and by the time you finish the third movie you both actually cry bc you won’t work together again??

You keep in touch but both of you have projects and things to do, until three years later when you both are invited to the Oscars and HOLY FUCK ANNE IS HOT NOW???

Like sure she was always beautiful, which was part of the reason why you kinda disliked her but omg right now you wouldn’t mind it if she kicked you in the face

Anne sees you and rushes over to hug you, the paparazzi are going WILD this is the reunion of the bffs from that movie everyone used to love!!

In the middle of the ceremony you even convinced THE Marilla Cuthbert (amazing actress) to switch seats with you so you can spend the rest of the night with Anne

The after party’s wild, everyone’s there. Funnily enough, you can’t recall most of the faces bc all you can remember of that night is 1-you ended up drunk as hell and 2-right before you two started drinking Anne had already made out with you in the bathroom

What came next was pretty much the best time of your life. Dates, nightcalls, instagram stories, suddenly a month turned into six, then nine...

As twenty-something-year-olds, you and Anne have tons of offers falling into your laps, Anne gets a call for a casting call and she gets the main role.

This main role happens to have a romantic interest. Who turns out will be played by none other than Gilbert John Blythe.

He’s been in the industry for like two, maybe three years. But the kid’s a charmer, he’s got brains and he’s beautiful. Everyone loves him. 

And everyone wants Anne to love him as well. 

You get tons of video recs on youtube titled “Anne and Gilbert in love for ten minutes straight” or “everytime Anne undresses Gilbert with her eyes”

It’s alright, you’ve seen this before, and you can’t blame them, they have an amazing chemistry in the show and it’s only natural that people wants that to be real

But god, the toxic fans are the worst, the comments about “imagine having to say goodbye to Gil only to go home and find Y/N there... disgusting”

You should stop reading those comments, really you should. They’re unhealthy, and these people don’t even know you

You manage to ignore most of it until the press releases the pictures: Anne and Gilbert walking out of some random restaurant in the city where they film the show... kissing.

Angry doesn’t even start to describe you rn. You’re seething, you’ve been humiliated, your twitter and your texts are both blowing up with notification. 

Anne calls you at least thirty times before she stops trying.

She finished season one and takes the first flight back to you, and it takes all of her courage, but she goes to your house as soon as she lands safely. 

Then two hours pass before you open the door. 

You were out with Ruby getting wasted, so when you get home you come face-to-face with Anne sitting on your driveway and crying her eyes out thinking you’re just ignoring her.

She sees you and she stands up, you try to escape and ignore her, you tell her you don’t wanna know, that she should move on and forget you bc she’s clearly happy with Gilbert

She says it took her by surprise, that Gilbert kissed her without her consent, but you don’t believe her.

But you’re also very drunk, and shit, you’d missed Anne so badly...

Her perfume somehow smells stronger than usual, and your eyes land on her pouty lips, you’re bitter, but you’re also desperate to feel her mouth on you.

You pull her in roughly for a kiss she was definitely not expecting, but her hands are quick to get all over you. Half an hour later, her fingers are in you.

You hate her, but you’re deeply in love, and you can’t remember where one ends and the other starts. You’re all feelings, and every single thought in your mind belongs to her.

it’s only when you’re completely sober, after the third -or was it the fourth?- round, that you decide to get it over with.

“Do you like him?” 

Anne’s falling asleep with her arm around you, but she tenses. She wants to say no, of course she doesn’t! Gilbert would never compare... Gilbert shouldn’t occupy a single though in her mind

Yet, she keeps thinking about his kiss, even though they ended up in really bad terms afterwards

“I love you. Isn’t that what you should care about?”

That’s not the answer you want, and both of you know she can’t give you a real answer, you know her so well by now, you can practically read her swirling thoughts, all confusing, undecided.

“I can’t be your partner for as long as you continue working with him. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to quit, I’m not asking you to... I’m tired of the hate in social media, of me being the one that somehow doesn’t belong next to you simply bc I’m not the popular heartthrob—” “I want you!”

“But I want to be happy.”

Add yourself to out taglist!

Forever Taglist.

@i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual​ @just-here-to-escape-from-reality​ 

ANNE Taglist.

@ninizkd @http-itsrebecca​ @aleksosoto​ 

[twilightprince101]

The Train, Purple Lightning and “Fate”: An Infinity Train Theory

NOTE: This contains HEAVY SPOILERS for all of Infinity Train! Putting this under a read more, but tl;dr, I think the train has a way of predicting when things will happen-but not entirely be correct.

I was going back and rewatching Infinity Train Book 1 (Mainly bc I love the show and wanted to relive it) when I noticed something interesting. At the end of episode 9, when Tulip decides to fight and is racing to the Engine, we get a glimpse of the sky and see hints of purple lightning

Which was pretty cool as an effect, but then I remembered something: I’ve seen this lightning before. And if you’ve just watched the Book 3 finale, I’m sure you know what I’m referring to.

But it wasn’t just here either, it was also in another scene with Simon earlier. The one where he shifts from “okay he’s a shit but kinda ok” to “motherfucker unlimited.”

After thinking about it for a little bit, I went to Book 2 to look around, and sure enough, the lightning was there too

I’m going to reiterate: I’m rewatching all of Infinity Train, and the purple lightning throughout the entire series only appears this prominently during these scenes.  (May I reiterate: this prominently. I am aware that it can be seen in a brief flash in the very first episode when that random passenger gets sucked into the vortex, but it’s barely as noticeable as these three instances)

At first I thought the lightning was just a cool effect to reiterate the tension and weight of these dramatic scenes, and to be honest it very well could be. However all of these scenes where the lightning appears have something in common.

They all take place during times of great change not just for these characters, but for the entire train and its system as a whole.

Let me break it down and explain it one at a time.

Season 1: The lightning appears as Tulip is taking a stand against Amelia and her reign as Conductor, resolving to overthrow her and save Atticus.

This one is relatively simple, all things considered. Amelia has reigned as Conductor for 33 years (as noted by OneOne in the documentary shorts), and now that Tulip is going to fight back and bring OneOne back to the engine, her reign is soon going to end and things are going to go back to normal

Season 3: Simon, after committing so many atrocities, gets his number up so high that it has nowhere left to go on his body, giving him the highest number in existence.

(I’m doing season 3 before season 2 bc it’s shorter and relatively simpler than its big brother, you’ll understand soon)

As twisted as the train may be, we all know that its base premise is that it helps those it deems as needing help, teleporting them onto the train so they can sort out their problems. But as we’ve seen with Amelia and The Apex, they don’t technically have to. Aside from the threat of being stuck on the train forever, there’s nothing stopping them from fucking about and ignoring their problems.

Throughout Season 3, the Apex assumes that because they are destroying the cars, OneOne is trying to fight against them and put them back on track. However, as Amelia clarifies, he doesn’t even know that they exist.

Despite the fact that their numbers have been climbing in the complete opposite direction, the train hasn’t logged them down as anomalies or glitches in the system, they’re still considered normal passengers. It could be assumed that, like Grace and Amelia, they’ll all eventually come around and get the numbers to zero.

But then of course... Simon happens.

Considering our limited view of the train and its history, we don’t know if the numbers really can go higher or if other passengers have done the same thing in the past. However if he is the first, the fact that Simon’s number literally had nowhere else to go, reaching the highest possible limit, this goes against the train’s whole philosophy of “helping people.” There is now a clear flaw in the system that can no longer be ignored.

(As for the other instance with Simon, we’ll get back to that)

Season 2: Mirror Tulip (AKA M.T. (AKA Lake)) and Alan Dracula are waiting for one of the passenger pods so they can hijack one and get a number to get off the train

From what we’ve seen of the train and how it works, it seems clear that everything is made to revolve around the passengers. The cars are made to help people realize stuff about themselves, the numbers are made to represent their own personal growth and the denizens are made to assist them throughout their journey.

But that’s the thing: These denizens are made by the train. Every car that is created, the denizens are created alongside it. They are literally made to be the NPCs of the whole system and are made to assist passengers. OneOne even says so in the final episode of Book 2.

“Your passenger.” Not “Your friend” or “That one guy,” he specifically says “Your passenger.” Somehow, despite already helping Tulip with her problems, MT was assigned to Jesse.

And we’ve even seen this in other circumstances too! Tulip had Atticus to help her with a bunch of her stuff, and Grace had Hazel to make her realize that “Nulls” were people too. If they weren’t there, they wouldn’t have gone through their whole character arcs and back!

(As for how MT got assigned to Jesse despite already having “served her purpose” for Tulip, we’ll get back on that later).

But back to the point: The Denizens are created for the passengers by the train itself. So its whole deal with helping people grow and giving them an exit? That’s a luxury only reserved for passengers. It doesn’t see the denizens as “real people.” 

So Jesse refusing to leave MT behind, returning to the train so he can get his friend back? The train literally cannot fathom this turn of events and literally begins to break down.

It’s only through MT outsmarting the entire system and resolving OneOne’s broken logic loop that she’s able to escape, leaving the train for good.

But the fact that she’s even able to get off is crazy in of itself! We may not know how long the train has been around for, but the fact that the train began to broke down at MT wanting to leave means that this has to have been the first time this happened. And now that it’s shown that it can be possible for one denizen to leave the train, that opens the door for every single other denizen on the train! If they can “get a number,” they can leave the train.

Not to mention, Lake’s presence in the human world now gives people concrete proof that the train exists. If the train has existed for as long as humans have been alive, then that means there has to have been some rumors about it. And now, with a living girl made of chrome walking around (and a girl without a reflection), it is impossible to blow off those rumors anymore. The train is real.

So what does all this mean then?

The purple lightning (bet you already forgot about it now, eh?), throughout the series, has only showed up during these moments.  Tulip brought back OneOne, MT proved that denizens can leave the train, Simon proved that some passengers cannot be redeemed.  All three of these instances were points of great change in the train’s system, that will drastically alter things to come.

But why does the lightning only show up here? Is it that the train’s world can somehow sense when big things are going to happen? Or is it something deeper, like it can tell the future, and that’s how the passengers get “assigned” denizens? Well... I think it’s kind of a more complex system than that.

It’s painstakingly clear by now that the train is extremely flawed with the way it does things. Nothing is stopping passengers from staying on the train forever, it can whisk away people that are probably no more than 7 who are still developing as people, it’s possible for passengers to never change and make their numbers reach infinity, it doesn’t account for all the trauma that the train itself can leave on the passengers after they leave, it cannot fathom denizens wanting to get off the train and passengers wanting to help those denizens getting off the train and, in the case with Amelia, it’s possible for anyone to overthrow OneOne and take over as Conductor of the train.

However, I think these flaws show something very important. The train itself isn’t some sort of balevolent god that wants to help people become better, nor is it a malevolent one that wants to wreak havoc. It’s a giant machine.

Each car is made from different orbs, programmed by the Conductor (whoever that may be) to be whatever they like. The train’s helpers are all machines. The entire system itself runs on code. Very outdated code.

This is how I think different denizens are “assigned” to the passengers. I don’t think the train itself can see the future, but it can make predictions based on pre-existing data. Whatever passenger gets whisked to the train, they have their entire history and internal angst calculated and carefully analyzed. After running through their problems, the train can figure out exactly what that person needs in order to grow.

In the case of MT being Jesse’s “assigned Denizen,” while also technically being Tulip’s, here’s how I think it went down: After MT left to go her own path, the train kept her in mind as she went about her business, reassigning her to be someone that can help passengers grow. When Jesse got onto the train, it assigned MT to him and sent him in her general direction in his pod.

As for why exactly he didn’t get dropped off in the same car as MT, Jesse needed a bit of time to adjust and had to befriend Alan Dracula while MT wasn’t there. So when MT was asleep, the train moved the car Jesse was in right before the “Family Tree” car and let the rest of its predictions run its course. We do know its possible for the train to move around cars after all, with passengers on it.

But just because the train is good at predictions, it doesn’t mean they’ll always be 100% accurate. Remember: the train runs on very flawed logic. It isn’t always correct with how the passengers will act (Again, see Amelia and the Apex). So bringing this back around to the purple lightning, I think we found our answer.

The purple lightning represents moments when different aspects of the train completely fly off from their “intended course.” 

The train likely wasn’t thinking that Tulip could be its savior, especially with Amelia as the conductor. It likely thought that, as soon as her exit appeared she’d leave for good. But instead, she stuck around and went to save her friend. Tulip stuck around longer than predicted.

The train doesn’t see its denizens as actual people, thinking that as soon as passengers resolve their problems they’ll leave without a second thought. So MT going off on her own to get a number, along with Jesse coming back for her, both of them defied what the train thought was possible.

Then Simon. Simon, Simon, Simon. Out of everything the train could have predicted, it couldn’t have predicted him. 

The first time he broke from the train’s “intended course” was when he killed Tuba. We already know that Hazel was likely Grace’s denizen, since she was the reason that her whole view on the denizens had changed. But I think Tuba was meant to be Simon’s denizen (at least, his second one since The Cat abandoned him). With how helpful she was in The Colored Clock car, helping him escape and being the key to leaving the car, she was likely going to be Simon’s ticket to learning to trust “nulls” again. 

But then... yeah.

The second time he broke was after his fight with Grace. Despite abandoning her, betraying her, trying to kill her several times, Grace still saved him when he was about to fall. The train likely predicted here that Simon would see the err of his ways, pull an Amelia and go on the path of redemption.

But then...... yeah.

The third-and final time-was when he got what he wanted and got the number to end all numbers, likely bigger than the entire train expected. He had gone so far down the rabbit hole that there was nowhere else to go. Every chance he got to become a better person, he rejected. Simon himself is definitive proof that the train’s prediction system is flawed.

Each of these big moments reflects a gigantic flaw in the train’s system. It doesn’t expect these passengers to do the things they do, go off course from their intended destination. Like I said, the system relies on very outdated code. But now, having each of these situations be resolved, it knows how to deal with these issues going forward. A passenger can leave however they want, anyone can leave if they have a number, and most importantly, its prediction system needs fixing if it wants to keep helping passengers.

The train itself is a very, very strange beast. It’s kind and cruel all at once. But at the end of the day, it’s just a big computer doing its purpose. But this computer is old, outdated, extremely touchy. Each time these offshoots happen, it gives the chance for that code to be rewritten. And it’s very likely that it’s going to commit to these changes. For if it doesn’t... well... 

Let’s just say a lot more sand is gonna be added to this desert.

[handonhaven]

Okay Lizzie and Josie really pissed me off in 3x16. Like Hope just ran off with someone who tried to kill her and someone who manipulated Josie. With no clue why or where they were going. And Lizzie first thought was to try to find Hope a rebound. Not to try to find out where she went or if she was in any danger. And Josie was no help either she didn't bother to do any of those things. She just asked Lizzie with who. I also didn't like Lizzie comment either. When she said "we can't afford to be picky. Anyone who doesn't melt after having sex with her will do." Maybe it's just me and I'm taking that comment the wrong way. But when she said that I got so mad. Because what I took from that was being able to have sex is only thing that matters. So let's just try to hook her up with anyone. Doesn't matter if they're a killer or a psychopath as long as they can have sex then it's fine. I don't know maybe I'm just over reacting to that(but I can't be the only one to feel something like that after hearing that comment, can I?).

So, so many Handon scenes just hits so differently now knowing that Landon was really malivore. I'm not gonna lie after I found that out I went back and watched those scenes over again trying to see if I can find any clues or hints at it. But when I did that I start it to think about the fact that we had a whole season without the real Landon. Then I start thinking about the fact that Landon has had a whole season of going through trauma one right after the other since 3x02(when Raph died) and it only got worse from there. Then I got mad at the writers for doing that to him. It was bad enough that his life before coming to the school was hell. So were they just like yeah lets put him through a whole season a trauma too. Now before anyone says well Hope went through hell this season too. I'm not saying she didn't. But I feel like Landons was on a whole different level than Hopes. Because Landon had to watch his brother die, then had to watch himself melt, then he was in malivore, then in the prison fighting off monsters, to then having malivore take over his body. And who knows what he's going through in this own mind right now. But I think my biggest fear is that when they do get Landon back the real Landon. That they play off his trauma to save time(like they often do now). Or someone will try to downplay it like it was nothing. Because if they do that imma be pissed.

So I start it thinking about that maliLandon scene with Cleo when we saw both malivore's and Landons memories. And all of Landons memories were big Handon moments for season 2(I think there might have been some for season 1 but I can't remember). And I know they did that for a reason. I think in that scene it inspired both malivore and Landon somehow to do something. I just can't figure out what and I know myself this will be stuck on my mind until we finally find out lol. I'm already thinking up theories and all both make sense but don't make sense all at the same time. And this is really going to bug me.

P.S 1: I have to say this season had one very consistent thing, the "Logical" answer is wrong.

- Logic telling Hope, Landon was dead ....wrong

- Logic telling Hope, Landon was back.....wrong (Hope felt something was off but chose to ignore it bc she missed him)

- Logic telling Hope, she and Landon are doomed.....wrong

- Logic telling Cleo, to trust Landon and he was only traumatized.....wrong

- Logic telling them Malivore wanted Cleo to escape the prison world....wrong

- Logic telling them, the monsters were coming from a actual pit....wrong

- Logic telling Hope the only way to kill Malivore is to become a Tribrid.....wrong

- Logic telling Hope she caused Landon to melt.....wrong(okay I know we don't know for sure about that one. But that feels way way to much like a red herring with how much it's been said). Also another consistent thing is everything they say things Multiple times over and over again espesally things that have no concrete proof turns out to be False. They keep repeating these things; Landon is Human, Landon is dead, Landon is not a Phoenix anymore, Hope needs to become a Tribrid, Hope is toxic to Landon(once again I know we don't know for sure yet, but there's no way that isn't a red herring), Hope and Landon are doomed. Watch all turn out to be wrong.

2. The antis and H*sies are already coming out the wood works. And there this one line I see that they're really trying to hold onto like it's a win or something. How at the end of 3x16 when Hope said "we want our friends back" they're taking it like Hope sees Landon as a friend now(among other things but that would make this too long if I write it all out). Which is sad and means they're truly not paying attention to anything. And let me just point out that Hope was speaking for everyone not just herself. So it makes more sense for her to say "we want our friends back" then it would be for her to say "we want our friend and my boyfriend back". Since they're all friends with Landon and Cleo. Even though they're not very good friends to Landon(minus Hope because Hope is with Landon and treats him better than his "friends" does). But that's a whole other thing for another time. I do my best to say away from antis and H*sies but somehow one of them somehow always end up in my timeline. And it's gonna make these next three months so much longer than it needs to be tbh.

Same. Exactly! It was all so strange.

Lizzie was just upset over the fact that Hope ditched them, but Hope has always done stuff like that on her own to keep others out of danger. Yet Lizzie didn’t even seem to care, even though both her and Josie said they didn’t trust Clarke after all he had done. So they knew that Hope could’ve been in danger. But Lizzie’s highest concern in that moment was finding Hope a rebound as quickly as possible?? What on earth... And Josie acknowledged that Hope could be in danger, said she cared more about her actual life than her romantic one, but then proceeded to do nothing. And exactly! That comment really bothered me too! Yep, that’s also how it came across to me. Like Hope being able to have sex with someone was the priority, the rest wasn’t important. I don’t think you’re overreacting, I thought it sounded really bad. And the fact that Lizzie was focusing on that over Hope’s safety... I don’t even know what to say. Then Ethan shows up and they drag him into it, it was just a mess, and probably the weirdest way and time to bring in a love interest for Lizzie. Then they get to the school, are casually standing around chatting, then Lizzie wants to give Ethan a tour. All thoughts about Hope’s safety forgotten, besides Josie mentioning in passing that they needed to tell Alaric what happened. That was the full extent of their efforts to help Hope. Then she gets back and all they can talk about is how she ditched them? Not about what happened or if she’s okay? And they’re the ones who just promised Hope she wouldn’t be facing Malivore alone... not off to a good start.

And right? It’s crazy! Me too, watching the breakup scene is SO different now haha. But ugh, yes. We seriously had nearly an entire season without the real Landon... I can’t. And same. That’s one of the things I’ve been thinking about the most, and I’m honestly mad at the writers as well. Like, it’s actually shocking to think about just how much trauma he has gone through. And I don’t know what made them to decide to put him through that much because it’s unreal. Just... why?? So true, he had a lifetime of trauma before the show even started! Went through more trauma while at the school, going through death after death. And then went through the most horrible things this whole season. And yes, Hope did go through hell, but what she went through was very different. I agree, what Landon went through was on a whole other level. Exactly! He literally went through one trauma right after the other. And he went through them alone (apart from losing Raf). Without any help, and every single time he escaped one thing, he ended up in another and endured more trauma. He’s been through pure hell, nonstop, and I can’t imagine what state he’s in right now and how he’ll be when this is all over. Oh, and literally me. I’m honestly so worried they’re gonna do that too. That they’ll just ignore his trauma, that they won’t show how he’s been affected or have him talking about it. And it will just get cut off and forgotten and they’ll jump to the next thing and he may not get even a break. Because that really is what they do all the time. And right now is their chance to show what he’s been through. To go back and show what happened to him and show his side of things. We need to actually see what he’s been through and how he’s being affected right now. And once they get him back, they need to address it. They need to let him and Hope rest. I think season 4 needs to be about them healing together, though I’m sure they’ll be dealing with more crap. So I’m very worried about that, I will be pissed right along with you if they don’t go into that. That’s probably what I want to see the most at this point, and what I think is extremely important, not only for his character, but also because they shouldn’t ignore that kind of trauma.

And yes, they were! They had Landon remembering Hope telling him she loved him for the first time, and then those other huge moments for them, the 2x08 reunion, and the scenes in 2x11. I‘m wondering if those might be Landon’s most powerful memories. And I think you could be right, I’ve wondered the same thing, but I also can’t figure it out. Like they showed Handon memories with Malivore creating Clarke like... I’m so confused haha. They definitely left us with too many questions, and now we have to wait, it’s gonna suck.

Wow, you make very good points with that. That’s very interesting for sure. The writers really used “logic” as a way to mislead the characters in order to shape the plot for the season. And I think because of that, they also had to hold the characters back from investigating things further. When I feel like Hope, especially, would’ve looked into things more to figure out what was going on, but they couldn’t have them finding out yet so they just had everyone believing in the “logical” answer. Which does end up fitting with the idea that things are not what the seem, especially with all the things you listed that they keep repeating. Which does make it seem pretty obvious that they’re trying to convince us of these things that aren’t actually true. I think it’s gonna all turn out to be wrong as well. We already know it wouldn’t make sense for Landon to be fully human since he never was, and that he’ll surely get his Phoenix powers back. And I agree about Hope being toxic to Landon too, the more they’ve talked about it, the less I believe it’s true haha. And same now with them talking about Hope having to become a full tribrid, it seems like they might be doing the same thing. Or at least, if these things aren’t already wrong, Hope and Landon will find a way to prove them wrong by fighting their fate.

Yeah, those people clearly aren’t paying attention to the show and are grasping for anything at this point. Did they not watch Hope’s scenes with Clarke and how she responded to him talking about fighting fate? Did they not hear her literally tell Cleo that she still loves Landon? Obviously, Hope does not view Landon as just a friend. She was speaking for the group, just like you said. I don’t even think Hope sees Cleo as her friend right now. When Cleo told Hope that she hopes they can be friends again after all this, Hope said nothing and just walked away. So yeah, she was speaking for everyone else, although it’s weird that the rest of them would even view them as friends either. I’m pretty sure Kaleb is the only one who really sees Cleo as a friend. And true, they’re not even friends to Landon, none of them gave a crap when he died, so I’m not even sure why they were there. I guess since there’s a threat now? But anyway, yeah, I get that it’s hard to avoid those fans, the hate is everywhere. But knowing how ridiculous their reasoning is and how far they’re reaching helps me to just kind of laugh it off sometimes, although it is annoying. It gets so tiring to see, but I’m just gonna try to focus on enjoying Handon and ignoring the antis as best I can!

[mego42]

#like I don’t care about press generally #but when it says stuff I like I care a lot .... SO RELATABLE 😂😂😂😂😂😂 how many times have I read something that makes me so mad and I’m like oh that’s crap they’re lying they don’t know what they’re talking about and then they go and say something Brio positive and I’m like YES YES that’s what I’m talking about I love these people they’re going to give us exactly what we want.

hahahahahah YES EXACTLY. listen when it comes to cast/showrunner interviews, the percentage of attention i pay to them basically breaks down to the following:

cast interviews: 0-3% the 3 being only when they say something I like, otherwise I ignore cast interviews entirely, actors are coming at the story from a completely different headspace and tbqhhhhhhh their POV is like, the least important bc they aren’t shaping the story, they’re just finding a space to live in it. not only that, but their POV isn’t necessarily even grounded in reality bc they are playing fictional people who do fictional things and while i am not personally 100% on this one, i hear fiction and reality are very different things.

ex a: matthew with dean, of course he’s going to say sympathetic things about the character, he has to live in his head and make him believable, you can’t do that if you don’t find a point of empathy and understanding. do i think matthew supports everything dean does? no, he seems like a super stand up dude and tbh i love him a lot so like, bias and all. but of course he’s going to defend dean, his literal job is to be dean and any good actor will tell you you can’t do that well without finding something to connect with which brings me tooooooo

ex b: manny with rio! i remember there was an interview thing i saw awhile back where he was talking about rio as this guy who is doing what he does to take care of his family and he’s modeling the character on people who lived around him growing up (forgive me it’s been awhile, i’m paraphrasing so idk if this is 100%) and rio’s human, he’s not all bad or all good which i agree with both in terms of the character and like, people in general. but also, dude murders people. dude orders other people to murder people. dude uses terror and very, very real, serious, and again, fatal consequences to keep his control. rio is not a good person, right? like, we all know that right? we would probably not like him in real life, again bc of the murder. i just want to make sure we’re clear on this. THAT SAID, in fiction, as a character, he’s fascinating, well rounded and extremely magnetic and the way manny plays him is fascinating, well rounded and extremely magnetic and a lot of that is because he’s gotten into his head and found a point of connective empathy to build on but when he talks about rio like a good dude with an unconventional job i’m like okay, but murder.

(and as an aside, this is part of why it drives me lowhighkey bonkers how much shit christina gets for the way she talks about beth and dean but that’s a whole other thing please leave me out of it, it just makes me cranky)

the point is, actors? not coming from a remotely audience POV and tbh their opinions on their characters are like probs some of the smallest potatoes when it comes to dictating where the story is going so literally who cares if they’re saying something you don’t like.

showrunner/producer interviews: 13-27% again, the 27 going to when i like what they say, 13 for when i don’t but i’m still curious how they’re framing the ep/season/whatever. bc i am a nerd and like knowing how people think about their work vs how i feel about it bc i think that’s interesting

the thing about showrunner interviews is, like actor interviews, they’re working with a completely different POV than the audience. they know what they’re planning and writing towards and also what they want the audience to be currently thinking about and also what they want to say to prime the audience to react to stuff hey know is coming. trying to predict shit based on showrunner interviews is like trying to play a game of three dimensional chess from inside the board against someone outside of it and also you’re in two dimensions. it’s pointless and most likely just gonna give you a headache. 

not only that but creating a thing is a really really really different experience from absorbing a thing. to do it in a satisfying way, you can’t just focus on the stuff you like or the stuff you don’t like comes through, drags the rest of it down and it’s a bummer for everyone. much like actor stuff, you have to find a way to connect with every part of your story to ensure it’s all getting the care and focus required to make it sing for your audience but unlike the actor stuff, you’re doing this on 16 additional levels.

and finally, look, sometimes (oftentimes) the showrunner is going to like and care about different stuff about the show than random audience member #473, tumblr user dianepleasesitonmyface or reddit user redditisafuckingcesspoolohmygodwhyareyouonthereloveyourself (and all three of those might have v dif priorities too) and they’re allowed to feel that way AND write for that because..........drumroll please...........it’s their show.

basically showrunners are going to do and say what they’re going to do and say and sometimes it’s going to be ridiculously problematic and they should be roasted until the end of time for it, but a lot of times it just is what it is. it’s not worth getting worked up over bc literally what are you going to do about it except bum yourself out over something you don’t have anywhere near enough puzzle pieces to even accurately asses anyway.

my b apparently i had less of a short breakdown and more a pile of thoughts,  feelings and baggage i wanted to ramble out. 

tl;dr: i've been trapped in my house like a sewer rat for over a year, i don’t care what matthew or manny or christina or jenna want me to think or feel about the show bc they are not the boss of me thanks for coming to my ted talk i guess.

[gra-sonas]

I didn’t mean to be “silent”, this just took me much longer to write than I had planned. 

First of all, I’d like to point you in the direction of a very good post @adiwriting​ posted a couple of days ago, that sums things up in a very articulate way, you can find it HERE.

~*~

In short: in his most recent interview with the Pretty Little Wine Moms Podcast, Tyler - who’s playing a character who’s half Native American -  revealed, that he did a DNA test with a company called 23AndMe during the filming of season 1 of Roswell, New Mexico, and he test didn’t detect Native American ancestry, even though his grandmother had told him in 2010, that his paternal grandfather Harold's great grandmother was Cherokee Indian.

Below the cut is a transcript of that part of the interview, my opinion on this whole thing, and I answered a couple of asks I got about it. This is a VERY long post.

I’ve already watched the video of the interview, and it shows, that they edited the interview quite heavily. There are several cuts throughout the episode, and some things that can be heard in the audio version, didn’t make it into the video either. 

TRANSCRIPT [I didn’t transcribe every laugh or random words, but I’ve tried my best to make it as accurate as possible]

LESLEY: Did you audition for any of the other roles on PLL?

TYLER: No, Caleb came in halfway through season one. I remember, it was supposed to be a 4-episode stint, a guest starring role. What’s funny though, I lived right by Warner Brothers [studios], so I would drive […] past Warner Brothers and there was a bill board of Pretty Little Liars before it came out and I was like “I could probably be on a show like that.” So, anyway, I auditioned for Caleb, yeah. I never read for… […] No, I didn’t get the role at first because they were like “we really think he needs to be like really ethnic. We need some ethnic diversity. And I was like—

LESLEY: What are you? You’re like “hello”! Part Native American, i mean.

TYLER: Well, no, I’m actually not. I’m actually not, I found out.

HOLLY: Whaaaat? Yes, you are. We did talk about this.

NIA: I thought you were.

HOLLY: We talked about this on set.

TYLER: Do you know when I found out that I wasn’t is when I got Roswell, my character was also supposed to be Native American, half Native American. And I was like “great”, because the pool was like so small. You know, so this is great, you know. I’m shooting season one of the show and do a 23AndMe [DNA test] and I have literally not even 0.1 % Native American.

HOLLY: That can’t be possible.

NIA: No, no, no, no, let me explain how that works. That’s not right.

HOLLY: Nia has some things to tell you.

NIA: The information - I know these things, every nationality in me—

TYLER: Okay, tell me.

NIA: 23AndMe is pulling from— if you do 23AndMe and then you do… what’s the other one—

LESLEY: AncestryCOM

HOLLY: AncestryCOM

NIA: —they’ll come up different. And the reason they’ll come up different from each other is, they’re pulling from the people they already have in their database. So, if there’s not very many Native American people doing 23AndM—

HOLLY: Which there isn’t.

NIA: —it’s not gonna show up.

TYLER: Oh god.

NIA: Yeah.

[INFO: There’s a clear CUT at this point before the interview continues, they even cut Tyler’s “Oh god” you can hear in the audio from the video. So they must’ve talked about this some more before the official version of the interview continues.]

TYLER: Okay, so this is what happened, going back [to being cast as Caleb]. They said “thank you so much for the read” and I really thought I was gonna get it. Because Gayle Pillsbury [PLL casting director] - I’d never even read for her before - and I went in and auditioned, and her response was literally everything you want in an audition. She like lost her fucking mind and was like “where did you come from?”, you know, that sort of thing. I mean, I’m a TERRIBLE auditioner and I get so unbelievably nervous, so for that to be the response—

LESLEY: Wow.

TYLER: So that response… I was like “oh my gosh”. And you even audition and you’re like “I booked it. I booked it!”, you know what I mean? Even though it’s not up to her, you know, but anyway. Then they told me “thank you so much for the read, it was so good, but we want more ethnic diversity”. They came back to me, I don’t know, three weeks later? And they were like “What is your background?” And I was like “I don’t even know.” I called my dad, he tells me “I don’t even know.” He’s like “Call grandma.”. I call my grandma, she tells me her side and then… My dad’s dad passed away before I was born, I don’t know his side of the family at all. So my grandmother talks about his side of the family and says “You know—“ - it was Harold, Harold was my grandfather’s name - —“Harold’s great grandmother was Cherokee Indian. And I was like “Really?” I was like “This is good!”

WINE MOMS,  LAUGHING: “This is good!”

TYLER: So, then I told casting “I’m Native American.” And so they thought it was enough to cast me as, you know, ‘ethnically ambiguous’ or whatever.

[END TRANSCRIPT]

~*~

I’m not an expert on DNA tests. Nia’s comment that tests from different companies come back with different results bc they pull their data from different gene pools makes sense, but I can’t verify whether that's actually the case. Neither do I know whether her claim that 23AndMe pool lacks Native samples for reference is correct.

If it is, it would mean that 23AndMe DNA tests in general wouldn’t be able to detect Native ancestry in any sample. Maybe a test with a different company would come up with a different result, in any case, it would be a very small percentage, given how many generations are between Tyler and his Native ancestor.

The result of the test is only one piece of the puzzle tho, and not the relevant one.

The question isn’t whether the result indicates that what Tyler’s grandma told him is false. The question is, if one Native ancestor 5 generations back and no tribal affiliation of any kind entitle Tyler to play POC characters. 

The answer is a clear no, and yet he’s been cast as non-white characters (and in one case as an explicitly Native character) twice in his life.

That’s unfortunate at best, and ignorant at worst.

~*~

Tyler auditioned for PLL in 2010 when he was 23, turning 24 that year. Initially he didn’t get the role bc they wanted someone “ethnic”. They called him 3 weeks (!) after the initial rejection and asked about his background, and by talking to his grandma, he found out about this Native ancestor.

2010 was a mere decade ago, but it was also a different time. Discussions about diversity and representation on screen, the question whether it’s okay for male actors to play trans women or if shows should pass the Bechdel test were all topics that weren’t discussed as “aggressively (and I mean that in a very positive way, hammer it home that all these things matter!) as they are discussed today, and structures in the TV and movie industry ignored most of it anyway (still do way too often, lbr).

Looking back, it’s easy to condemn what happened as vigorously as we would condemn it if it happened today, but applying today’s standards to 2010 is still a bit unfair. (I’m not saying that what happened is okay, just that back then the level of awareness for it to be wrong wasn’t the same as it is today).

Sure enough ABC execs were all too happy to accept that minimal partial Native ancestry as “enough” to cast him, probably also because Tyler looked “ethnically ambiguous” to them, whatever that means. (Holly also mentioned that they talked about Tyler’s Native ancestry on the set of PLL, and apparently not a single person pointed out that maybe it was a questionable decision...).

Tyler was trying to get his career started back then, and an opportunity like PLL would be any young actor’s dream. When they told him “you’re ethnic enough, you’ve got the job”, he lacked the tools and the awareness to question their decision, neither did anyone ever question Tyler’s decision to accept the role. It was considered to be “okay” by all sides. Which is a systemic problem.

As far as I know, Caleb’s supposed “ethnically diverse” background was never explored on PLL, so they were just happy he looked “ethnic" but never gave a fuck about actual representation. Welcome to the club of most TV shows ever made. Even in 2020, too many shows and movies still try to pull that shit. The difference is, that nowadays they are called out, and people speak up. 

~*~

Fast forward to 2017 when Tyler got the script for Roswell. 7 years of him believing that this partial Native ancestry made him part Native, not half like Alex Manes, but it probably felt like it was “enough” - it had been enough for PLL after all.

He got cast because he’s a great actor, but also because he supposedly had the required ethnic background. This is also on the studio tbh. I assume he was asked about his background and he must’ve told them the same story (since he didn’t have a DNA test he could’ve shown them), and for The CW “one Cherokee Indian ancestor 5 generations back” was also “Native enough”...

~*~

It’s quite a bit of a mess tbh. Fans have been hit rather hard by this revelation, some are angry, some are disappointed, some feel uncomfortable, some probably don’t know whether how they feel is how they should feel after applying all our new-found 2020 ~wisdom and awareness to the situation.

Opinions on the matter differ. Vastly in some cases. Some people feel betrayed, some have “cancelled” Tyler, for others it’s not ideal but also not that big of a deal. It’s a mixed bag, really. 

As for me: 2010 Tyler gets a pass from me. It was a “different time” with different industry rules in place, and ABC’s higher ups, who should’ve known and done better, didn’t. Neither did anyone in casting, nor his management, colleagues, or anyone in his personal life. And he clearly lacked the experience and awareness to question the decision, or himself for accepting it because it never was questioned! Not even in the years following.

2017 Tyler only gets a partial pass. 2017 wasn’t 2020 and too many things were still not all that different from 2010. He’d been on a show for 7 years where this partial Native ancestry was “enough”. Hence he probably felt like auditioning for the role of Alex was okay, and everyone involved in the casting process thought so, too. 

He never pretended to be Native American to get the role, he never pulled a Scarlett Johansson. However... he probably should’ve questioned a bit harder whether a Native ancestor 5 generations back makes him “Native enough” to play a (half) Native character, or any kind of POC character for that matter.

So yeah, definitely putting some blame on him for the lack of awareness, but I’m also side-eying The CW and whoever was involved in the decision making. 

~*~

What I hope for and expect fromTyler now and in the future is, that he won’t ever allow to be cast as any kind of “ethnic” character ever again.

He’s worked hard and has very much earned the career he’s made. He’s an amazing actor, but the circumstances that gave him the opportunity to have that career are based on racist structures in the TV and movie industry, and he directly profited from a system, that cast him - for all we know a white man - as a man of color. Twice.

Imo Tyler’s well aware of these things now. 2020 in particular should’ve been a pretty good eye-opener. It’s good that he has someone like Jeanine to look up to and learn from (not her job to teach him or take him by the hand or anything, but I think she’s a great example of someone who’s already made a name of herself, and uses her influence to help others, and the way she talks about diversity and elevating marginalized voices is very powerful), and I hope that in the future he’ll use is voice and “weight” as an established actor, to elevate minority voices and push for their stories to be included.

Answered your question in part above already.

It’s important to note that there’s a difference between criticizing someone’s actions, and openly hating and/or dissing them. This is a messy situation, and while Tyler can’t change the past, he has to do better in the future. Saying that doesn’t make me (or anyone else) a hater. Tyler’s amazing, but he’s also not perfect. And he doesn’t have to be. No one’s perfect.

When I look back at my life, dear god, I grew up in a very liberal family, we travelled places, I had access to all the books and education, and still. At 23? I was somewhat anti-feminist and a slightly conservative leaning liberal. Not a bad person per se, but also quite ignorant (compared to today’s standards anyway). Thankfully that’s changed over the years. And it keeps changing. Because getting complacent and thinking “I know it all” is BS. I’m working on myself every day, and I’m still prone to fuck up occasionally bc the system is rigged in my favor, and I might not even be aware of it in that moment. 

I’m not cross with Tyler, because I can’t say for certain I hadn’t done the same if the circumstances had been similar. I’m actually quite sure I had done the same, bc society and the industry made it okay. AND NO ONE EVER QUESTIONED IT! He never claimed more for himself than a Native ancestor 5 generations back, and society at large and the TV/movie industry in particular said “that’s fine, you have that ancestry, you can go for diverse roles”. So in part, he fell victim to a system that pretended it was okay.

With MeToo and the Black Lives Matter movement, that “it’s okay” mentality is finally questioned and challenged, and more and more people speak up whenever someone tries to pull this shit. But it still keeps happening and there’s a lot more work to do. 

No one can claim ignorance anymore, though. And he has to do better in the future.

I feel you, nonnie. It’s a messy situation. Imo it’s most unfortunate that this information came out the way it did. In a heavily edited podcast episode with inexperienced (and dare I say “industry-biased”) moderators. We don’t know what else he said or for how long they talked about this.

The podcast hosts were clearly not the most qualified to handle that kind of revelation. There were no follow-up questions, there was no criticism, and the way the interview was edited, the whole thing was treated as a non-issue and “fun” anecdote. Which doesn’t do Tyler any favors tbh. 

But imo it’s also unfair to condemn him solely on what they decided to release. We don’t know what else he said, whether he expressed remorse or whatnot. I don’t know whether his publicist okayed the interview prior to its release. If they did, he should get a new publicist... 

(I’m not implying he should’ve kept it a “secret”, but as a publicist I would’ve made sure this revelation had been handled differently, and Tyler hadn’t been made to look like he was just laughing it off).

I don’t know Tyler personally, but going by everything I’ve seen from him and know about him, I’m certain he won’t take on another POC role. And even if another DNA test should come up with a different result one day, and a certain percentage of Native ancestry would be found, I’d expect him to handle things differently. And imo that’s something he expects from himself, too. He’s a good man. <3

I don’t think he should, but I’m white, so my opinion on this isn’t really relevant. If Native groups would call for him to step down (which I don’t think they would), I’d support it because THEIR opinion on this actually matters.

One option could be that they do a storyline where it’s revealed that the woman Alex believes to be his mother isn’t his biological mom and it turns out he’s not Native - but that’s probably a far stretch, idk.

If he’d give up the role (which he clearly isn’t doing, considering he’s found out during S1 and is about to begin filming S3), I doubt The CW would recast the role with a native actor btw. Alex’d just be written off the show.

What I hope for is, that he’ll join Jeanine in her efforts to push for more Native and Latinx representation and stories on the show (Jeanine talked about that in her recent IG live with congressman Castro, @lambourngb​ made a post about it), and you can watch the entire IG live here.

Fandom’s a large group of many individual people. There are several people who have addressed this and talk about it. And while not every single person in fandom’s talking about it, it’s not swept under the rug either.

And how does this whole thing make Malex fans (another large group of many individual people) look toxic? Malex fans are not a hive mind. I have seen several Malex fans talk about this, and talk about it critically.

I’m sorry that you’re disappointed, nonnie, I’m just not sure what you expected?

[redevenir]

rigil kentaurus (pt. i)

The brightest star of the Alpha Centauri solar system – our closest neighour. Its name is the latinisation of the arabic رِجْل القِنْطورُس‎ Rijl al-Qinṭūrus, meaning the Foot of the Centaur. It is slightly larger and more luminous than the Sun. W

seungkwan x reader

wc : ~ 4000

summary : you are only a spectator of your life until they take your hand and let you live it.

a/n : started it as a seungkwan piece, then turned it into a johnny one then coming back to seungkwan bc this is how i wan to keep writing it. it's like i can't keep writing it if it's not seungkwan i don't know.

« It’s the fourth one. » Chan’s voice is only a hushed whisper but you hear how bothered he is. You don’t answer.

I know…

No, It’s already the fourth one tonight, and it’s only eleven!

I know…

It’s like they’re not even trying! Seungkwan barely avoids the tea towel as Chan raises his arms out of exasperation. If they don’t what a cappuccino is, why do they order it anyway? It’s a coffee shop, just buy a coffee! You know you don’t need to answer that. You’ve been working here for months and complaining about customers seems to be a universal way of breaking the ice. You’ve heard this speech from your first week at the counter, and with time you’ve come to agree with whatever colleague you were with, on every single point. Not once have you considered quitting to find something else instead. It is, indeed, not the best place. At the entrance of the city, the beginning of the highway. It is neither cozy nor warm. The air conditioning is too strong half of the year, the radiator too hot during the six months of winter. You are either sweating or shivering. The playlist is sickening, and never in tune with the season. You ignore Maria Carey’s christmas’s vocals as you give a customer a refill. Night workers and truck drivers are your only customers during the night shifts. You have stopped judging them long ago.

For months on end, the only thing Chan could tell about his coworker was that you were not a model employee. It was hard to blame you for anything specific. But you felt off. You felt nothing. When Seungkwan asked him how his shifts went, he would just shrug. It felt like he spent many of his nights on his own rather than with you. Like you were not there with him. Every evening he would arrive, greet you and feel like it was the first time ever. And he would grumble about it.

Can you believe I know nothing about her ?

Well, she’s surely a very private person.

Yes, and that’s rude.

You make little to no effort to appeal to the customers. In fact, you barely engage at all with them. Although, and this is your secret, you do have your favorites. From the three maintenance workers of the power plant to the security guard who comes four times a week, before the end of your shift, after the end of his own, Chan has found out that, if he listens to you close enough he’ll learn their names. Because you know them. You often seem to be elsewhere, but when you wish them a nice evening, or good luck, you do say their name, quietly, without any fuss. A sign to him you weren’t completely indifferent but thoughtful in a different way from his. There is nothing likeable to the Dreamy Drivin Chan works at. First of all, it is not a drive-in, nor a drive-through, it is a mere coffee shop. Not a fancy one, not a chain one. The counter’s light green is ugly, the temperature’s always off, and the pay is honestly not much. This is how life is at the border of the city. You catch what you can get and you try to make it work. He assumes the reason you’ve landed there is the same as his and Seungkwan’s : dropped from school, without any proper qualification for a living. He assumes you are his age, that your face must look younger when you are not tired. Chan is nice. Well, Chan likes to tease his friends, but Chan is nice. He tries to reach you, one sentence at a time.

White noises. The purring of the coffee machine you’ve never seen off. They come in, white shirt, stained jeans, black coats. They order the same thing, the largest, darkest coffee you got. You serve them with a « good night », « good luck » if you feel in a kinder mood. Since Seungkwan’s smile is bright and big and loud, you’ve decided you didn’t need to fake one of your own. They pay for their order and leave for never ending roads you cannot quite picture in your mind. When you work long shifts, it seems to you the world is shrinking, that if you open the front door you will fall into a bottomless pit. That the joke of a coffee shop you work at is some sort of asteroid gas station where rocket drivers stop by on their way to the Andromeda galaxy. You tell yourself Earth is also a little rocking drifting among the stars. You welcome a new customer. You dream of outer space. It is known people turn to alcohol and other substances to forget their troubles, but you don’t need that. Numbness greets you every time the pointing machine does its trick, and you even lose sight of your daily life. Surely you have one, plants to grow, books to read, hiking to walk and messes to clean. People to see and a sun to meet. But here, behind your pale green counter, you consign it all to oblivion. Here, there is only the world in your head and the star who takes orders by your side that exist. Your hear Chan’s annoyed sigh. You serve another coffee. It feels like taming the crow that lives in the tree in front of his building. Like he could give you bread and even croissant crumbs every single night and you would still be distant. And one day, you initiate the conversation, and he knows he’s done well. He remembers it just fine now. It was probably a boring wednesday, late in the afternoon. It had been a cloud few hours since he had woken up. A dim midday sun dissolving into the thick gray air. He was already behind the counter, checking the clock, when you had busted in the room, panting. There was some pathetic charm about the whole scene. You don’t hide your surprise when you see Chan already there, and a smile had made its way – oh so joyful and unsettled. The smile on your face had remained unchanged when he had asked you. And why are you late ?

I am not ? You had answered. What the manager doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

Ooh, so that’s how it is. Chan relates to that. He never complains about you again. Next time he talks about you, he tells Seungkwan you are his friend now. His quiet, merry friend who never works day shifts. Chan does. As it happens, Chan hates working the night shifts and only does it when Seungkwan can’t. Seungkwan is kind. Seungkwan is the most loveable being Chan has known in years. Seungkwan is grounded and warm, and steady. Moving in with him was like having finally his roots planted into rich, reliable earth, instead of the slippery mud he had been walking on for most of his life. Chan is heard, is seen. Chan sleeps well, and goes out of his way whenever Seungkwan asks him a favor, because it is easy to satisfy him. Easy, and right. He tells Seungkwan you’ve asked after him, and watches as the other chokes on his coffee.

Can’t believe you’d think I wouldn’t notice.

When Seungkwan comes back to the night shifts, you don’t mention him ever leaving, but he notices the change in you immediately. When you greet him, he looks at your face and wonders what was so bad that your better rested face still looks worn out. You’re not as lively as he is, you’re not as lively as Chan is, hell, you’re not even as lively as Chan said you were with him – which wasn’t that much to begin with. But you are here. There is a relief in your presence. Seungkwan said nothing about his absence, and diligently drinks the cup of coffee you offer him around three. Seungkwan regrets the day shift but still. It could be worse. As he tries his best to maintain his customer service to its level – it is hard and how, how did he manage to do it before ? Is this the reason why you don’t ? Don’t set any standard, at all, so no one can be disappointed – and especially not you – when you don’t live up to them. Seungkwan wonders how hard you really are on yourself, and if he isn’t being dramatic. Maybe you’re all right. Maybe you look terrible because that’s how you look. Maybe you were born tired and he has no need to worry about you. Maybe you don’t need him to meddle in your privacy. Surely, if you wanted him to know about your life you’d tell him yourself.

The softest clunk ever heard by a human ear snaps him out of his thoughts. He meets your concerned look and the large cup of latte you’re handing to him.

Seungkwan, you should go home. Take it easy. Night shifts are hard.

He looks at you with wide eyes, opens his mouth, close it, opens it again and stutters.

But- no ! I mean- I can’t- I- I- you- I can’t let you do this alone- It- It- no, it’s not right! You shrug and gesture vaguely toward the empty diner hall.

It’s whatever, really. You try to elaborate as he doesn’t answer. No one’s here, you’re clearly not here, there’s only two hours left, just, you know. Go to sleep. I really don’t mind. You don’t have to fight me on this, by the way, it’s not like I’d tell anyone.

Seungkwan does as you say, doesn’t fight you on this. He can’t manage a proper thought, a proper thank you. He goes in the locker room, picks up his stuff, only to hesitate before the front door, until you repeat yourself, a sweet promise of rest. He spends the journey back home away from his body, replaying the scene over and over. He knows he’s screwed when he opens the door to his and Chan’s apartment. It’s ridiculous, and he would feel ashamed if he wasn’t so tired. How easy it is to let you take care of him. He crashes on his bed still in his work clothes and forgets his last thoughts.

Your shift passes without a fuss. It doesn’t feel like you’re there either.

You close your book when you realize you’re not reading anything. There is a light buzz in your brain, but it is quiet. Unthreatening. You close your eyes and your reaches for the cup of hot cocoa on your desk. It’s all nice and quiet here, and you wonder how you’ve managed to make your apartment such a peaceful nest when your mind is so often washed out by fierce tempests. You let your mind drift away, floating on a safe shore. Breaks from work are nice. Your sleep schedule is well set by now, and you can properly enjoy those forty-eight hours for yourself. You don’t spend every week night longing for them, because you never project yourself into the future, but you would if you did. Dawns are definitely your favorite moment of the day. Either they mean you can go home, or that you have an entire day to relish in the warmth of your place. It is a nest indeed. A kitchen and a bedroom, all stuffed into the maze of a much bigger building. The wooden floor is quite creaky and you do hear when the neighbor upstairs wears their heels. The walls are a very faded shade of orange, which you love – sun-like colors are for good luck. The furniture is definitely older than you are – older than your parents, probably – but it is nice. And the day you’ll leave it will remain exactly the same. More used but untouched. In a way, the atmosphere is not unlike the Dreamy. Homey and decay. Anonymous, but in a belonging way. Chan would hate it. His apartment – well, their apartment – is probably… You can’t picture it. You don’t know enough about home interiors to picture someone else’s home. Comfortable. Maybe furs as bed-covers? You have never touched one before, but sometimes you catch a glimpse of them on the passenger seat of a car. Your gaze never lingers though : you are not to look at a car owner in the eyes.

Seungkwan feels like he’d sleep nested in a bed of wool and furs. He’d probably like the soft but rough feeling of it against his skin. There’s something comforting about raw fabrics, isn’t there? A bubble of heat slowly builds in your chest and you close your eyes shut to chase the thoughts of Seungkwan’s bare skin in his bed.

Seungkwan is quiet, but not discreet. He is clumsy and always in his own world, parallel to yours, but you wonder how many light years are between you, and it is all to his credit. There is something you find commendable to his behavior. A reliable honesty. Not unlike a dog, you can tell from the look on his face whether he is content or anxious or annoyed. You do not have to imagine his hidden agenda – you are positive he has none. The easiness with which Seungkwan expresses himself still amazes you, even after a year or so of observing him a few nights a week. It seems to you his feelings have no hindrance to them : pure joy, pure irritation, pure panic whenever one of you breaks a cup – it happens more than you like to admit. When his voice rushes to tell you a quick joke between two customers, the joyful spontaneity of his tone carries you miles away from the counter, to bright afternoons on windy shores. He is quick-witted and never misses a chance to tell you whenever he notices something amusing. Simplicity is Seungkwan’s most beautiful quality, you have decided. When you are not drifting around other solar systems, when you come back home to your place, when you are lying in bed a few minutes more before getting dressed up, you try to imagine what he is doing at the same time. What does his apartment look like, what does he like to cook, does he have a dog and why is his smile so charming. Sometimes under the shower you wonder what he would think about you if he were to see you naked. You try to leave these thoughts in the shower where they belong but you cannot always control your mind and you find yourself embarrassed in front of him more often than you care to admit.

You collect information about him like a gold digger their gold nuggets. Every word he addresses you, you replay in your head again and again until you can hear him breathe them against your ear in the darkness of your bedroom. So when Seungkwan comes back, all quiet and cautious, pondering on his words and his welcoming attitude almost erased, you act on it as best as you can. You are not brave enough to properly ask him about it, so you do what you do best. You observe. How quieter he has become, and the slow but unstoppable growth of the bags under his eyes. Not that he seemed well-rested at all, which is also worrying. What did he go through that was even more tiring than working night shifts? Of course, it is none of your business. If Chan were there, maybe he’d spill the tea, but Chan made it very clear he didn’t want to work a night shift ever again. Will you ever talk to him again? The little one you’re so found of. Chan said Seungkwan was a neat roommate to have, and for him to give up the sunlight for months, you assumes he means it. The understatement is lovely. Chan would never spill Seungkwan’s secrets.

You light up the gas, put the little orange pan on it, pour the milk in it. With that you empty the milk carton, and throw it in the trash. Who knows when you’ll be able to afford milk again? You haven’t seen any in the store for weeks – and you restrain yourself from stealing the Drivin. It isn’t worth it. As you wait for the milk to heat up, you hear a gentle knock on your door. You lower the fire, apprehension growing in your chest. You’re not expecting anybody, so this can’t be good. On your tiptoes, breathing deep, you reach the front door and slowly open it. Wary, you let yourself look at whoever is standing outside.

Oh, miss, hello! Sorry to bother you! Someone just called after you, so I thought I’d let you know ! She lived here too. You don’t know her name, but she’s definitely older than you are. She lives upstairs, you’re not sure of the floor. She looks like a teacher, and her enunciation sounds like that too. She has a little polite smile on, aware of your discomfort, the stiffness of your body being obvious. As she sees your absence of reaction, she hands you a piece of paper, covered in smooth carbon writing. Definitely a teacher. One of your coworker, he said he was. I forgot yo ask for his number, but if he calls back, do you want me to tell him something specific ?

Huh, no! I mean- No, no, no, you don’t need- you don’t- you don’t need to do anything, miss. I’m- I’m sorry he took the liberty to call you, I don’t wish to bother you ! You mouth is so dry. Thank you! Thank you! Sorry again! I’ll leave you be then! Have a nice day! You shut the door without noticing the smile she has on again.

The ringing in your head takes over everything else. You try to reach for something to keep your balance and crumble against the wall, choking for air. You crumple the piece of paper in your fist, nails digging in the soft flesh of your palms, tearing little moon crescent that taint the words you haven’t even read. She knows now. What kind of person doesn’t have a telephone at home? Who, if not someone who is trying to remain unreachable? Untraceable. Your head is about to implode from the pain. Now she’ll know. Now, she knows you have something to hide. You lie on the floor, chasing after your breathe. Who will she tell? Does she live alone ? Is she a public teacher ? How long do you have until she tells on you? You cannot dare to think you might have to go now, tears burning your eyes as you hiccup desperately. The hawk claws on your chest only dig deeper and deeper until your forehead is against the floor, searching for cold, for a relief from the blades in your brain.

The crisis lasts for hours.

The room is dark when you emerge, and a faint, panicked thought about being late comes to you but you’re quick to remember you don’t have to work tonight. Smoke and the smell of burnt is all around you. Shit, the milk. Mouth dry, head numb, you slowly sit up, body hoarse. Feeling a light pain in your hands, you let your fingertips brush over the scab already formed. The piece of paper is still in your left hand, torn and bloody. Finally, you smooth it and read the few words on it. Coworker wants to know when next free day is. also have a good day. You stare at it without making any sense out of it. What coworker? Which one? Your planning is with everyone else’s at work. You feel nauseous. Muscles sore, you stand up and go to the kitchenette to turn the fire down. Without second thought you throw the now empty pan in the trash. Fuck all of this. Mindlessly, you reach the bathroom, undressing yourself as in a dream. After you’re done you let yourself fall on the bed. Quiet, in the back of your head, you start to make a list. Tomorrow, tomorrow you will pack. Just in case.

When you arrive at work the next night, you put an obviously packed bag under the counter. You don’t greet Seungkwan. You don’t look at him. The shift goes by without a word addressed to him. At dawn, a few minutes before you’re both free to go, Seungkwan clears his throat next to you.

I-… Hum. I, well, it’s obvious you don’t want to talk about it, but- Well, just- Just so you know. Chan says he’s sorry. He would never hav- You cut him off, stern, as you wipe the cloth over the counter to make it shine. So it was Chan.

I don’t know what you’re talking about. You hear him open and close his mouth. He seems to understand his place.

O- Ok. Have a good day rest then.You don’t bother to answer him before leaving, bag on your shoulder.

Time passes slowly.

You haven’t looked at Seungkwan in the eyes for so long now, Chan wonders if you still know what he looks like. Every afternoon when Seungkwan eats his breakfast and Chan comes back home to a most welcome snack, the night worker sighs heavy, burdened by your silence. It’s unbearable.  It’s unbearable for him to go to work every night with someone who was once friendly and has turned into a wall, a wall for which he longs to love. It’s unbearable for Chan to see his roommate on the verge of tears because of the guilt. It’s unbearable to know their action has you ready to run away every minute of every day.

The thing with Seungkwan is that he is quite good at reading people. Even though he does enjoy some unnecessary drama as much - and maybe more - as others - he usually manages to get through his life without ruffling any feather. It makes it a lot harder to comfort him with empty words when he knows you’re avoiding him, because he has been looking at you. This is how one should talk to people, he has learned. Not everyone is comfortable doing so, he also learned. Sometimes, Seungkwan says nothing, for he is afraid to annoy you away. There is no pleasure whatsoever in taking the night shift. The place is already dull by day, but by night it reaches a new dimension of boredom. Sure, it pays a bit better, but it is not worth it. Since he is not asked anyway, and he does not get to choose his shifts, Seungkwan tries to prize the strays of light in this fog of ennui. First, the night regulars seem to like him better than the day ones. He likes to think they enjoy his enthusiasm and maybe it is one of the reasons they keep coming and ordering there. The other one is you. Although now you are not at all like a light ray and more of a far away storm, high at sea.

Seungkwan would’ve liked it better if had you unleashed hell upon him. Before you used to not talk to him, but it felt more like you were shy, or reserved. Or merely didn’t know what to say, which is a very understandable feeling when you’re still at work at two in the morning five days a week. It didn’t feel awkward. Well, it sometimes felt a bit awkward, but not in the bad way. Now… Now you’re very obviously pretending he is not there, and Seungkwan wants to cry. All of it is his fault. Chan only called to you because of his rambling. I would have called her anyway. I like her. She’s my weird work friend. It’s unbearable. He jumps when Chan drops his fork on his plate with a loud clunk.

I’ll make it up. I can fix this. The eldest doesn’t look up from his meal. Chan wants to rip his own eyes and scream. With her. Inquisitive and tired eyes shoot up. I’m gonna do something about it.

Wha- Wha- Chan, there’s no fixing it, what are you talking about ? She comes to work every day with a bag which I’m sure is full of necessary stuff. You know what that means. I know what that means. She obviously know what that means. There is no fiwing this.

I know, I know. I don’t mean- Deep breathe. I know I can’t fix everything, obviously. But I’m going to apologize to her, and she’ll talk to you. And, well. It’s going to work. Seungkwan shrugs. He says nothing more until he leaves for work.

Chan slumps into the sofa. He’s fucked up big this time. It sucks. He really is a fool. Living one day at a time, he’s lost perspective. He has even forgotten why his life is like that in the first place. How could he be so careless? He’s a fly. Well, all of you are flies. Clearly, you’ve managed to get out the web and he has brought you back into it. Chan’s a fool. He stands up in a sigh, put on his shoes and goes back to the Dreamy Drivin’.

[stewystew]

I Made A Leverage Timeline Because I Was Bored

Warning: this is like. way too in depth. and very nit-picky in terms of evidence, because I am a horrible perfectionist and my work is never finished.

Episode # - Approx. Date, Length of Job (Explanation) (extra details)

- Time Between Episodes

Most of the lengths are like. The MINIMUM amount of days for the job - “It was night in this scene, and in the next scene it was morning! That’s two days!” - not counting client meetings because there’s usually no way of knowing how much time was spent planning the job. Also, the dates I’m very super not sure about are marked with *asterisks*.

1.1 - May/June 2008, 2 weeks+ (NBA playoffs are April-June, and at that time the fifth games of each round were at the beginning and middle of the month. The stockholders meeting was “at the end of the month” - May/June 27-31, presumably - meaning Dubenich met with Nate within the month of May/June. Personally I think the game was in the semifinals (second round), and in May, bc the first and third round games were literally the first three days of the month and that doesn’t seem like enough time to plan a heist, and calling the finals the “playoffs” sounds weird to me) (this is the most adherent to reality I get, I promise)

- I actually have no clue, but it must have been at least a couple weeks

1.2 - 4 days+

1.3 - 1 week+

1.4 - 1 week+

1.5 - 1 day (Mile High, less than eight hours from the initial break-in to the plane landing)

1.6 - 5-6 days (Miracle Job, ends on a Sunday)

1.7 - ? (Two-Horse)

- However long it took to hook the judge guy

1.8 - 1 day (Bank Shot)

1.9 - 1 week+

- At least one job (team’s mad at Parker for being reckless)

1.10 - 1 week-ish (Juror #6, in Hardison’s closing argument he says that the trial lasted a week)

1.11 - 4-5 days

1.12 - Oct 2008 (Measured from 2.1, and is ~4 months after my 1.1, which lines up with my length estimations, plus a few weeks of wiggle room)

- Four Months

1.13 - Feb 2009

- Six Months

2.1 - Aug 2009 (I don’t actually remember where I got this date, but it’s 15 months from my 1.1, and in Nate’s interview at the beginning of the episode we find out that he’s been with the team for around a year, when the interviewer asks about the gap in his resume)

2.2 - 6+ days

2.3 - 1 day (Order 23)

2.4 - Sept~Oct 2009 (Fairy Godparents, has to happen during the school year) (Sophie spends two days putting together the “science-sical” but I don’t feel confident enough to estimate the rest of this episode’s length)

2.5 - *Sept~Oct 2009*

2.6 - *Late Oct 2009* (The mark mentions a “record breaking third quarter”)

2.7 - *Nov 2009* (Two Crew Live, probably about six months before 2.15 because Eliot says 2.8-2.14 happened within “the last six months”, but I’m willing to fudge by a few weeks)

2.8 - *Nov 2009*

2.9 - <1 week

2.10 - ?

2.11 - Jan-Feb 2010 (Bottle Job, snowing)

2.12 - ?

2.13 - ?

2.14 - Apr 2010 (the East Coast Triple-A baseball league at the time, International League, started playing games in the first week of April)

2.15 - Apr 2010

- Five to Six Months (3.3: Nate was in prison for six months)

3.1 - Oct 2010 (6 months before 3.15)

3.2 - Late Oct 2010 (mark’s company had disappointing quarterly results, Sophie also rescheduled a reunion that would have happened June-July with this date, which makes sense for a reunion) (reunion was on the 28th)

3.3 - 1 day (Inside Job)

3.4 - Nov 2010 (5 months before 3.15)

3.5 - ?

3.6 - ?

3.7 - ?

3.8 - ? (note: Boost Job, mark’s employees are watching the NBA playoffs, and the literal earliest I could possibly push this episode is like. Late July. so I’m ignoring that piece of information.) (however, the NFL playoffs are in January. And that works for my timeline 👀)

3.9 - ?

3.10 - ?

3.11 - one night (Rashomon)

3.12 - Feb 2011, 3-4 days, four months after 3.1

3.13 - 2 days

3.14 - Christmas 2010 (Ok. Listen. Listen. Seasons 3 and 4 just Do Not Work if 3.12 happens before this episode. They just don’t. So I’m going to make the claim that this episode was aired out of order because ✨Christmas✨. Thank you for understanding. I promise, it fixes the whole thing.)

3.15 - Apr 2011 (six months after 3.1) (Also, ~one year after 2.15)

3.16 - Apr 2011, 1 week (from the time they take over the campaign) (Hardison is 24 here, making his birthday somewhere between Mar 25 1986 and Mar 24 1987) (The 2002 Oscars, when he was 15, was on Mar 24)

- Less Than Two Weeks

4.1 - Apr 2011 (three months after a storm in winter shut down the mountain)

4.2 - 2 days (10 Li’l Grifters)

4.3 - ?

4.4 - 1 day (Van Gogh)

4.5 - 1 day (Hot Potato) (exactly two days counting client meeting)

4.6 - ?

4.7 - 3+ days (Grave Danger)

4.8 - ?

- One Very Exciting Job

4.9 - 2 hours (Cross My Heart) (six hours counting the surgery)

4.10 - 3 days (Queen’s Gambit)

4.11 - Sept 2011, 1 week+ (The real life secret society that this was based on recruits in April-ish, but that would shove the past nine episodes into like a month, and also make it so the mark is still doing tests for his “senior project” within weeks of his graduation, so we’re not doing that. It’s My Fav TV Show’s Fake Secret Society And I Get To Pick The Rules)

4.12 - *Sept-Oct 2011*, 4-7 days (Office Job, at beginning of episode the buyout is happening “at the end of the week”)

4.13/4.14 - one night

4.15 - *Mid Oct 2011*, 2 days (Lonely Hearts, I just don’t think the weather in the Hamptons would be quite that nice any later than that?)

4.16 - ?

4.17 - Nov/Dec 2011, 1 day (Radio Job) (a Sunday)

4.18 - Nov/Dec 2011 (Dubenich was in jail for 3 years 5 months 4 days)

- One Year?

5.1 - Nov 2012 (plane’s anniversary is Nov 2nd, 2012)

- Christmas 2012 is when they went “overboard” on gifts

5.2 - Feb-Mar 2013 (That’s when playoffs were for the closest irl thing to that semi-pro league) (there aren’t actually any semi-pro hockey leagues in the US currently!)

5.3 - ?

5.4 - ?

5.5 - Apr-May 2013 (Gimme a ‘K’ Street, cheer comps)

5.6 - ?

5.7 - ?

- Parker tore her ACL, minimum six weeks from here to 5.9

5.8 - 5+ days

5.9 - Aug 28-Sept 11 2013, 1 day

5.10 - Aug 28-Sept 11 2013, 2 days (Frame Up, dates are in the document Sophie prints out)

5.11 - Sept 2013, 1 week+ (Low Low Price)

5.12 - Sept-Oct 2013 (White Rabbit)

5.13 - Sept-Oct 2013 (Corkscrew, harvest season)

5.14 - Christmas 2013 (Toy Job)

5.15 - 2014, 1 day (Last Goodbye, counting only the job)

In conclusion: FUCK season three for having such a clear timeline. Season 2 can stay but it’s on thin fucking ice

Most of this is soooo bullshit but I had fun. so.

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [23]

x. survival of the fittest

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: angst, language, violence, fighting, blood. 

Summary: Following Bellamy and Lincoln to Mount Weather doesn’t go according to plan. Because nothing ever does. 

a/n: hi, so first of all, yesterday I finished writing EPISODE 50!!! this is a big deal bc halfway!!! I’m having so much fun writing and sharing these chapters with you guys, and the sweet comments, and asks, and reblogs make me smile even on the bad days, so thank you!!!! this one is shorter, but because the last one was so long, I feel like you guys are probably craving something a little shorter! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

Despite looking the part, you never actually fall asleep. 

Bellamy comes in a while later and falls asleep next to you, gathering a few hours of rest before Lincoln quietly wakes him and tells him it’s time to go. You feel him press a kiss to your forehead and whisper, “May we meet again,” and you have to resist the urge to open your eyes and beg him to stay.

You wait until you hear his footsteps retreat before you open your eyes and sit up, looking around the now empty tent. His clothes have been left behind, his body now dressed in Grounder attire, and your mind flashes to the necklace around your throat. You reach up and touch the moon charm as you think of Clarke’s watch, disposed of as soon as she was taken into the mountain. You reach up and unclasp it, taking it off for the first time since your father gave it to you. 

It has been with you as long as you can remember, a source of strength through your captivity, his death, and your abuse, and you know that losing it to just anyone would tear you apart. So you step out of the tent, necklace tight in your grasp, and search for Octavia. You can’t be sure that Clarke’s new outlook will allow her the sentiment, so you decide to leave it with the only other person who will truly care for it like it’s her own. 

You find her in her sleeping bag, fast asleep, and you gently drape the necklace over her palm so that she’ll see it when she wakes. Then you sneak away and search for Clarke, needing to do one last thing before you follow Lincoln and Bellamy into the mountain. You find her asleep in the other tent with your mother, and you rifle through her bag quietly until you find one of her sketching pencils and some paper. You scrawl out a quick note and leave it beside your twin, needing to get one last thing off your chest in case you never make it out of this mountain alive.

I killed Shumway to protect Bellamy. I hope that doesn’t make me weak.

But I just hope you know that loving you, being your twin, it never made me weak. Only strong. I know dad would say the same.

But now I have to protect Bellamy again. I hope you understand.

La lune

You turn and leave the tent, remembering the conversations you overheard last night about what direction the Reaper tunnels are, and then you sneak out of the camp quietly, following the sun as it rises in the sky, eyes and ears open for any sign of Lincoln and Bellamy.

-

It takes you an hour of running to find any sign of them in the woods. 

As you cross a creek, you pass a dead deer and a small sack of discarded limestone. You remember Lincoln’s description of the Reapers, and how it’s used as war paint among them. There are also two sets of shoe prints pressed into the mud around the creek, and you are positive that they haven’t been gone long. 

You take off running again, following the direction of the footprints as they hopefully lead you to the pair. You’re so focused on the prints in front of you, that you don’t hear someone approaching you from behind until it’s too late. 

You spin around, coming face to face with a Reaper who lets out a horrifying yell. You have a split second where you fumble for your knife, forgetting that it’s still at the village, and then he swings a club towards you, hitting you in the head with it.

Pain explodes throughout your skull as you drop to the ground, everything growing hazy around you. You try to stand and run, but you fall, and you resort to crawling away on your hands and knees. The Reaper grabs you easily and lifts you, throwing you over his shoulder to carry you as everything fades to black. 

-

The first thing you notice upon waking is that you’re moving. 

As your consciousness returns, the pain in your head returns with it, and you let out a quiet groan. It takes a second for you to remember what happened, but the jostling movement of the Reaper carrying you is enough to remind you. You stay still, slung over his shoulder, debating what to do next: stay or run.

If you stay, you might get a ticket to walk right into Mount Weather. Or the Reapers might eat you. If you run, you’ll still have to sneak into the mountain. But the Reapers might not eat you. 

But as much as you pretend to debate what to do, you know you’re not going anywhere. Because this Reaper might get you into the very same mountain that your dumb boyfriend (boyfriend?) is trying to get himself into. 

So you stay put.

The Reaper carries you all afternoon and into the evening, showing no signs of strain or exhaustion. As the sun begins to set and the sky darkens, you hear him pause and say something in Trigedasleng before continuing on. You look around him and realize that you’ve entered the tunnels, and you feel your stomach drop in fear. 

As he travels deeper and deeper into the mine, you can hear the growing sounds of Reapers feasting and fighting nearby. You make a silent plan to run if he starts to walk that way. 

After a few more minutes of walking, he reaches an intersection. He pauses as he considers each, and you look around him to evaluate each path. You can tell that the Reaper dinner is down the tunnel to the right, shadows and silhouettes dancing on the wall from the light of a fire. Straight ahead, the path is darker and quieter, and you have a feeling it leads towards the entrance to the mountain.

You wait with bated breath as he seems to consider both options, before he starts to turn towards the right. You instantly start fighting and yelling, trying to escape, not ready to be torn apart and eaten. The Reaper tosses you from his shoulder and onto the ground and you scramble to your feet, ignoring the pain shooting through your body from the rough landing. 

You barely make it three feet before he grabs you and spins you around, and you use the momentum to fuel the fist that’s flying towards his face. He barely flinches when you make contact before immediately returning your hit with one of his own. You cry out in pain and he pulls you towards him, holding his other hand over your mouth and muttering, “Quiet.”

You grow still and he waits until he’s sure you’re not going to scream before he drops the hand over your mouth and starts to drag you down the path straight ahead, away from the Reaper feast.

You know you're getting close when the lighting in the mine changes from torches to lights. When you reach a section of mine with a large door at the end, he spins you towards him and reaches for your jacket. He yanks it off your shoulders harshly, and you stand frozen, unsure what he’s doing. But when he reaches for the bottom of your shirt, you scream and start to fight him again. 

This time you make it much further when you take off running, but he still catches you with ease and hits you, knocking you to the ground. As you recover from the blow, he pulls out a strip of fabric, which he uses to gag you, before reaching for your shirt again. He gets it over your head before you start to fight him, and he sighs and pulls out a bag for your head and ropes to restrain you. 

After your wrists are tied, he tugs off your shoes and then your pants, leaving you in your undergarments and with some semblance of modesty. Once he has you mostly stripped, he grabs you and tugs you to your feet, just as you hear voices grow louder down the path behind you. He drags you through the mine again before forcing you to your knees, leaving you to wait, blind to the world. You hear the voices from before grow closer in the caves and the quiet sounds of struggling before others are forced to the ground around you. 

The large metal door swings open, creaking loudly, and the Reaper pulls the bag off your head,   restoring your sight. You look around you and see that you are surrounded by Grounder women, none of them familiar to you, but they are also stripped to their undergarments, and you realize it must be part of the intake procedure. You redirect your attention to the open door and see people in suits filing out of the door, yelling at the Reapers. They activate a device that forces all the Reapers back, and someone with a clipboard comes to stand in front of the Grounder at the end of the line. 

Their voice comes out muffled, but it sounds like a woman muttering “harvest” before moving to the next Grounder. You watch as she moves down the line, while the Reapers behind you receive the drug that keeps them addicted, until she finally reaches you. She gives you a hard look through her gear, taking note of your bruised and bloodied face. “You must be a fighter.”

She leans closer to you, and you can see her smile through the window of the suit. “The fighters have the best blood. Harvest.” And then she finishes with the others before yelling, “Mark them all for harvest!”

Guards from the mountain descend on each of you, grabbing you and pulling you to your feet and dragging you into the mountain. They take you immediately into a large metal room, and you can see a worn sign at the top that reads Quarantine Intake. 

One guard now turns to two as they approach you with a metal collar attached to a long pole. You can hear the others fighting the process and you back away slowly, not wanting to be a part of this. But you back straight into the second guard, who holds you still as they snap the collar around your neck, securing you in place. 

Now that you’re tied onto a short leash, they tear away your undergarments. You fight them as they try to expose you, but one yank on the collar leaves you gasping and choking for air, unwilling to fight. They strip you down to nothing and leave you standing in place, shivering, before you hear water start to run through the pipes behind you. 

When the water hits your skin, you fight back a scream, the temperature something akin to lava. They spray you down thoroughly, burning every inch of your skin until it’s raw and red, before they approach you with powder on brushes. They smack the powder onto your body, and this time you do scream out as it burns your already sensitive skin. They use large brushes to scrub and clean every inch of you, and you watch weeks of blood, dirt, and sweat run down your body and into the drains at your feet. 

They force pills down your throat and multiple needles into your arm, before giving you a new set of undergarments that barely cover you. The last shot they inject you with leaves you feeling light and hazy, and soon after, you pass out.

-

You wake up in a cage. 

All around you are Grounders in cages, some moaning, some crying, some completely silent. You try to lift your head to get a better look, but it feels heavy and you feel so weak that you can barely move. 

You struggle and strain but fail to move, and the effort makes you so tired that you fall right back asleep.

-