#im almost half way through a sweater i started making in the hopes that i would get more invested in it than good omens... didnt work

[phoenix-in-the-water]

The urges to just throw myself completely into analysis of Good Omens is strong.

The urge to project on the characters because I want to see myself in a piece of media I enjoy is also very strong.

In conclusion, I am not functioning in a way I feel should ever be perceived by people I know (I'm looking at the two people who can perceive me outside of tumblr). But also if I don't start talking endlessly about it I think I will explode.

[lostinlads]

Breathe Me

Synopsis: You wake to the sound of Sylus in your shared house. Seeing his dull ruby eyes, and wanting his touch, you let him feed from you - his teeth sinking into your flesh, claiming you as his love.

Tags: sylus x femme!reader, MDNI IF YOU ARE A MINOR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED, vampire!sylus, half blood!mc, blood, drinking blood, biting, tooth rotting fluff, angst, mc feels inadequate, mentions of body horror (ripping heart out), use of pet names (my love, dove), no use of y/n, domestic life with sylus :(

Words: 2.7k

an: hi! i want to start off by saying the vampires in this fic are based off of the twilight ones! so if youre confused why theres no fangs or by some of the words i used to describe things thats it! same with the half bloods (half vampires) its just taken mostly from twilight. Also i want to say thank you for over 100 followers on this account, i had no idea i would get this much attention so soon? so seriously thank you so much! and lastly this fic kinda became really personal for me? at times i got pretty emotional while writing but im really happy with it, i think it turned out really well and i hope you all love it as much as i do! enjoy!

ao3

You wake up on a cloud of silk sheets and the scent of your lover. Eyes fluttering open, you find yourself alone in your shared bedroom, candlelight flickering on the nightstand and the soft patter of rain on the windows. 

Sitting up and stretching, you sigh, content and happy. With your heightened senses, you can hear Sylus shuffling through your home, muted footsteps along the wooden floors. Almost as if not to wake you.

Then you hear it, your favorite sound. His humming, off key but enough to make your cursed heart race. You climb out of bed, cold air nipping at your naked body, pebbling your nipples hard - but you welcome it, growing used to the icy chill. Reminding you of the touch of the man you've fallen head over heels for. His hands roaming your body, leaving goosebumps rising as his skin makes contact with yours.

You pad through the room, grabbing your silk robe and throw it on before leaving. You make your way through the house leisurely, never in need of a rush, knowing you have all the time in the universe. Fingers dragging on the walls as you walk past, savoring your quiet and calm life. 

Sylus's humming pauses for a moment, no doubt hearing you move around, before continuing. You could almost see the soft smile blessing his heavenly features, waiting in anticipation to see your beautiful face again. 

You spot him in the kitchen, back facing towards you as the delicious scent of coffee fills the air, made perfectly just for you. Feet shuffling under you, you walk closer, the longing pull towards him dragging you in. The need for his touch, for his scent buzzing in your veins as you draw close. Arms reaching out as you loop them around him, shoving your face in between his broad shoulders. Fingers dipping under his sweater as they dance over every curve and line of his stomach, a secret map made just for your touch alone. You breathe him in, a sweet honey and vanilla scent fills your nose, leather and the cold mingling perfectly with his overwhelming sweetness. Something so Sylus. It was intoxicating, you never getting enough as you drive yourself drunk on just him.

"Good morning, my love," Deep, rumbling of his voice vibrates his frame, jittering into your bones as you plaster yourself to him. He doesn't turn, letting you get your fill of him for now. One lone hand coming to place itself on top of your smaller one, icy thumb brushing over your silky skin. 

"Morning," You mumble into his back, running your nose along him. He chuckles, so warm and inviting. You want to hear it every day, not living until you get your fix of that beautiful sound. 

You two stay entwined for a beat longer, him finally turning around to face you. Stealing your breath with just one look at his god like face. Plush lips curled into a loving smile, the soft kitchen light dancing off of his hard, granite skin. And those eyes, those ruby gemstone eyes you can't help but fall for every time you look at him. Today dull, dark, in need of feeding. You brush a hand up to his cheek, fingers ghosting just under his eye.

"You're thirsty..." A frown set on your face, brows furrowing and lips pouting. His hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer as his other brushes your hair from your face.

"That can wait," Eyes dancing between your own, an unspoken language in themselves. You could feel the love in them, the way they shone just for you. "Have your coffee and let's go relax." Sylus reaches behind himself and holds a mug out to you, hot steam cascading up towards the ceiling. You take it, warming your palms as he leads you into the living room, letting you sit on the couch. He walks to the large bookcase covering one of your dark walls, selecting a record and putting it on. Quiet music fills the space between as he makes his way to you, long legs in confident strides. Power in every sure step. 

"I love this one," You sigh, happily as you take a sip of the hot liquid. Warming you up from the inside as Sylus's cold body settles against you. The battle of temperatures fuzzing your brain. It felt calming.

"That's why I chose it," You could hear the smile in his words as his icy hand dances along the clothed skin of your arm. Every touch making your irregular heart pound in its cage in your chest. Calling out to him, telling him that it belonged to your lover. 

The two of you sitting in silence as you let the tune play through your home, drinking down the coffee and settling into his large, strong arms. You could live every day of your never-ending life like this and still be content, happy even. Needing nothing in life but Sylus and your quiet home. Every mundane thing the two of you share feeling like the most exciting adventure. 

Finishing your drink, you set it on the wooden table before you, the mug making a muffled knock that echoed on the walls. You turn to Sylus, his eyes closed as he lets the music consume him, thumb brushing on your arm. You drink him in, every single atom of his being as you wish you two can sit like this for eternity. He could, of course, never move from this couch or position and continue to live. But the deep almost jealousy flutters in your chest. If only you were like him, able to stop time.

Being half vampire, you were strong, powerful and demanding like he was. Never needing to worry about any threats. But the human side reminded you just how different you and Sylus were in these moments. Unlike him, you needed to eat, whether blood or human food, needing to breathe, needing to blink. You needed to sleep and use the restroom and do normal human things. You still had your beating heart; you had blood that burned in your veins. You couldn't stop time and just exist like this god of a man beside you. Never being strong enough, never being fast enough, never being just enough.

"What are you thinking about?" He hums, eyes still closed as he pushes you closer, pulling you from your negative thoughts. You sigh, eyes falling from his face to your lap.

"Nothing," You lie, knowing he knew you were. You never shared your insecurities with him, knowing he would try his best to soothe you. But he never lived in this limbo, not being human enough to be human, and not being vampire enough to be vampire. You didn't blame your lover, him being the most patient and understanding soul you've ever known. But your condition was so rare. Only a few ever recorded to your knowledge. 

Sylus pulls you to his lap, eyes fluttering open, stealing your breath once more. Gentle glance in your wide, lovesick eyes, hands coming to secure behind you. You could feel his love in every movement, every touch a declaration. You place your hand on his chest, right over his still heart, willing it to beat just once for you, hoping to feel the same affect he has on you. It doesn't of course, cold stone skin under your warm palm - unchanging no matter how many times you try. He places his hand over yours, a silent way of telling you that if it could, it would beat a million times for you. Sylus reaches up to your chest, placing his own palm over your heart, making it race as he sighs. His confirmation of your love for him. Turning away, heat rises to your cheeks, embarrassed that you were jealous of this small thing. 

Pulling his hands away, he pulls you to his chest, his cheek pressed to your ear as his nose glides along your neck. Inhaling the sickening sweetness of your hybrid blood. Another thing you hated yourself for. Human blood tasting like aged, fine liquor, yours tasting like a sloppy sweet cocktail. Never tasting as good as them. Sylus told you he wouldn't want you to taste any other way, but you knew the truth. Tasting them yourself you knew how humans were, how their blood would send his kind into a frenzy. How if you were mortal, he wouldn't be able to hold himself back.

"You should drink, my love," Your words soft, so quiet as you coaxed him to feed from you. Needing to feel his teeth rip open your flesh and consume. Sylus doesn't reply, just places a ghost of a kiss to your pulse point. Hands pulling down your robe to expose your collarbone, then shoulder, then most of your upper arm. You sigh as you feel him expose your skin, goosebumps rising in the wake of his freezing touch. His razor-sharp teeth slices through your skin like butter, making you gasp at the pain. He knew this hurt; it always did when he fed from you. But you never minded, wanting to be his food, wanting to supply him with your life, your essence to sustain his hunger. You wished he would drain you dry, sucking every drop from your veins so you could fill him completely. Dying with a smile in his arms because he was the one that caused it, knowing he had done it out of nothing but pure love for you. You would rip out your still beating heart from your chest and give it to him if he asked. 

His lips latch onto the wound, sucking, pulling the blood out as his hand rests on your thigh, soothing your pain as best as he could manage. You could feel his icy tongue lapping at your flesh, savoring your taste like he actually enjoyed it. You close your eyes, leaning your head away to grant him more room, slowly welcoming the pain he caused. His lips on your skin were the only thing you ever wanting to feel, whether it being kisses or him draining the life from you, it was all you could ever ask from him. 

Slowly, the pain passed, a dull throb from the wound as he soothed the skin with his. You could almost feel him drinking you in, your souls entwining in this endless dance between you. You imagine the image of your blood flowing down his long throat, hot and fresh. Feather like silver locks of his hair brushing on your throat, kissing your skin.

Once he's had his fill, his lips unlatch, a small red bruise blooming. You feel his tongue flatten, lapping at the few fallen streaks of blood. That was one thing you loved about him, how clean he is when he feeds, not making a show of it. He placed one soft kiss to your skin before pulling back.

Your eyes dance on his breath-taking face, eyes a bright, shining crimson, lips matching from your blood. His skin almost glowed, refreshed and new. You lifted your hand, caressing his stone cheek. Sylus leaned into your touch, a hum vibrating in his throat as you stared into your lover's eyes. Out of any version of him, you preferred this one, on the cusp of being alive again, eyes bright, lips red, and so fucking beautiful. Your thumb swiped along his bottom lip, smudging the blood to the corner of his mouth, a smile curling on your lips. His hand on your thigh gripping your squishy flesh, grounding you. 

It was almost magnetic, your pull to him. Every touch bringing a reaction out of you immediately, like your body was made for him and him alone. The way his eyes swept from yours to your parted lips had you leaning in, no time for him to ask as you crash your lips together. The tangy taste of blood and his saliva swirl through your fuzzy brain, hand snaking around his neck to pull him closer. Slow but passionate, your lips moved together, creating their own dance. It was easy for you to grow addicted to this, not needing breath for a while, just have him touching your body as you consumed each other. You licked your way into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue. So sweet, so strong. His cold touch calming the heat soaring through your body, soothing the fireworks that were your nerves.

Sylus pulled away, letting you catch your breath, lips still hovering over your own.

"Heaven," He breathed, full lips grazing over yours as he mouthed the word. Heaven, but only if he knew he was yours. Heaven, hell, and everything in between. The monster in the shadows but oh how wrong that actually was. A man so full of passion and love that the only thing he could do was submit himself to you. Knowing exactly what you needed without having to ever ask, almost as if he scraped open your brain and lived inside, weaving his way into your nerves and could feel every spark through you. How someone could imagine him as this nightmare creature was beyond you, nothing comparing to his beauty or his grace. Not his own kind, not any paintings or murals, nothing could ever match Sylus in any way. And you couldn't help but feel blessed, to have this man in your arms, in your heart, sharing every day with you while others had to live entire lifetimes without even getting a glance.

As you lean back to look at him, the shoulder of your robe slips, pooling around your thighs and leaving your top half bare to him. You watch as his eyes drift down, taking in your body as if it was the first time he's seen you. His cool fingertips barely touching your skin as they run from your neck. Ghosting down your chest and between your breasts, to your stomach just above your navel. He paused there for a beat, letting out a shaky breath before running back up to your shoulder then down your arm. His touch so gentle it brought a deep flush to your cheeks, eyes half lidded as your breath ran ragged. Always touching you like he would snap you in half in a single wrong move. It was true, he is stronger, but you could take it, take every rough touch he could throw at you yet he refused. Always handling you like you were made of the most precious glass. 

"Are you hungry, dove?" Thumb brushing over your wrist, voice so unbelievably warm. You were, but you didn't want to leave, wanting to watch his blood smeared lips speak to you until your body grew weak and desperate. He could see it in your eyes, the corners of his beautiful wide mouth curling. "Let's go make something, then you can have me, my love." 

"Wait," You nearly cry out, hand pushing his chest back onto the sofa. He let you push him, falling back in from your touch. "Just..." You sigh. "Just let me lay here with you." 

Leaning forward you rest your face in the crook of his neck, large arms caging you to him. The music and rain snuffing out the silence between you, beating in time with your imagination of frozen heart and the waves between you. Turning your head, pressing your nose to his neck, you breathe him in. Eyes fluttering shut as you feel him, every fiber of your being screaming out to your mate, swearing to be with him until the universe falls from the sky. Your name etched into his soul and his into yours. Forever becoming one single being. Then you feel it, his chest buzzing as his deep voice hums to the song, singing for you. Emotions well inside you, heart thudding in your chest. His silent confirmation that you were his, that you were more than enough. Fingers tangling in your hair as he squeezes you tighter to his chest. You swear the world stops in his arms, everything fading away as you lay entangled together here on this sofa in your house under the rain and moonlight.

"I love you, dove," He sighs, nose pressing to your hair. Your heart responds for you, beating so loud you swear it speaks.

[jamroses]

Exerpt unnamed DEAD POETS SOCIETY fic <3

uh hi guys heres a small exerpt of that Neil has a sister fic i was planning <33 hope you enjoy and that thisll make you excited for the full fic The days following Neil's death were silent, no one knew what to say. Barely a word was spoken between the boys, they had gotten some time off to deal with the news, and prepare for the funeral. Todd was lying on the now empty right side bed, Neil’s mother had come in the day before to clear out all his stuff and had even told him he could keep something of Neil’s to ‘remember him by’. Todd had chosen the script of ‘A midsummer night's dream’ and a sweater. A knock sounded on the other side of the door and Todd rose from the bed, “Come in.” Meeks walked in, ‘It’s almost starting, are you ready to go?’ Todd nodded and followed Meeks out the door and through the corridor. They walked silently, side by side through the halls toward the church next to the school where the service would be held.

They slid into the bench next to Cameron, Charlie, Knox & Pitts who were already seated, Todd looked around and saw Neil’s parents sitting on the front row, right beside Nolan. The headmaster rose from his seat and stood up on the podium. “The death of Neil Perry was a tragic accident.” Nolan began, “Liar.” Todd muttered under his breath. “He was a fine student, one of Welton’s best, and he will be missed.” Nolan continued, “We have contacted each of your parents to explain the situation. Naturally, all are quite concerned. At the request of Neil’s family, I intend to conduct a thorough inquiry into this matter. Your complete cooperation is expected.”

After the service, everyone slowly made their way out to the courtyard. Todd walked behind his friends, “You guys go ahead, there’s something I need to check on.” He started towards the cemetery where they had just buried their friend. When he got there he saw there was already another person there, a girl, she couldn’t have been any older than he was, he slowly approached her, and stood a few feet apart from her, looking at Neil’s grave. The girl didn’t seem to notice him at first, as she continued to rearrange the white roses that were placed around Neil’s grave. Todd thought he had seen her before, but he just couldn’t figure out why she looked so familiar.

After she had finished what she was doing, the girl turned her head to look at Todd. She noticed how heartbroken he looked, how pale his skin was, how red his eyes were from crying. “Did you know him well?” She asked him, Todd looked up, “Neil, did you know him well?” “Oh yeah, we were roommates, you?” Todd looked at her, who was it that she reminded him of? “Yeah, he was my brother.” Todd looked her in the eyes for the first time since they met, “What?” He took in her features and realized she looked just like him, hell she could even be him. “Yeah he is, was, a year and a half older than me.” Todd was staring at her as if she were a ghost. “You look just like him.”  “Yeah I get that a lot.” She smiled sadly. “I’m Todd Anderson by the way.” He held out his hand for her to shake, “So you’re that Todd!” She shook his hand, “I’m Diane Perry.’’

RAAHHH HOPE YOU LIKE IT I KNOW IM STILL A KIND OF BAD WRITER BUT HEY THE BEST WAY TO LEARN IS BY JUST DOING IT

constructive critism is always apprieciated <3

[ewanmitchellconnoisseur]

"Illusion" (Final Part)

A/N: This is short :/ but it's a cute ending and I like it so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Trying to speed run through my WIP's. Anywho here is the final part of Illusion!! Also sorry it took long, I'e been going through some stuff ��

I do also want to mention that this isnt my best work. Because im finishing what past me started it was hard to make sure this came out good so...dont read to much into my shitty writing!

Summary: After Osferth saw you working at your night job you start avoiding him, embarassed about what he saw. He manages to get you alone and you both have a heart to heart.

TW: Virginity Loss, Smut, P in V, Alochol, Osferth being bold, Tiddy Suckkin

←  Previous Part

Mortified.

That was the only way to express how you felt. You were utterly mortified.

Just when your life was getting better and things were looking up. It's almost as if the universe couldn't let you have a moment of peace.

Your brain ran wild as you drove back home. He would never see you the same again after this. There was no way he'd still want to go on that date. And you couldn't possibly go to his birthday party and face him.

You are quick to run up to your stairs when you finally arrive home. Not noticing the small boy in the living room who stayed up waiting for you to get home.

You didn't have work. You traded your shift the same day he asked you to go with him to his party. Your brothers had plans with friends from school and your mom was working all day.

You spent the first half of the day cleaning your room and the rest of the house. Not cause you had to but because what else was there to do.

For once in your life you had the house to yourself. And the only thing you wanted to do was sit on your couch with a fat tub of ice cream and maybe a hot pocket...or two.

So that's what you did.

Sweatpants, sweatshirts, and slippers. Ice cream, chips and your hot pockets were all you needed as you snuggled on the couch.

You binge-watched your favourite show you've seen way too many times, trying your best to push everything out of your head. You managed to get halfway through the first second season before someone rang the doorbell.

Crawling over the back of the couch miserably and walking over to the door while still keeping your eyes on the TV you open the door.

When you finally tear your eyes away from the screen to look in front of you Osferth is standing there.

Without thinking you slam the door shut in the face. You stand there staring at the now-closed door when the doorbell rings again.

Taking a deep breath and wiping your face with the sleeve of your sweater you open the door again.

Osferth turned back around as he heard the door open. He walks back towards the door.

"Osferth liste-"

His hand is quickly holding on to the side of your face as his other pulls you flush against him. He dips down to kiss you silencing any objections.

You had always thought him to be too timid to do something like this. Too kind and gentle to kiss in such an intense way. When he finally pulls you away he doesn't let you go, continuing to hold you close.

"I shouldn't have approached you the way I did...I wasn't angry, disappointed or even disgusted..."

His fingers gently brush your cheek. His eyes take in all of your face as he's able to see you up close for the first time.

"I was jealous, I think, all those men looking at you I guess just got to me. Maybe I was also confused but that's all. I didn't mean to scare you off." Both his hands move to rest on your waist.

"I was just scared. Worried you would be. I should have heard you out instead of running. I was embarrassed."

Osferth listened to you as he rubbed circles on your waist comfortingly.

"And you had just invited me to your birthday, I was so scared tha-" You cut yourself off as something crossed your mind. "Wait- your birthday! What are you doing here? Your party started like an hour ago."

"I left...I couldn't celebrate without you there. I had hoped you would still come. When you didn't I asked around to find out where you lived."

"You have to go back! Everyone is there for you!" You tried to remove his hands to usher him back to his car but he held on to you tightly.

"I barely know half the people there. Plus, im not going back without you. I don't care if you strip I'm sure there's a reason you do it. And I won't ask if it's not something you want to talk about."

You contemplate telling him. It's not as if you didn't trust him but rather it was a pride thing. Most people wouldn't want to tell people about their family's financial struggles. Then again, if he was willing to overlook the fact that you danced half-naked for money to other men he deserved to at least know why.

"My dad had a gambling addiction. When he died his debts were passed off to us." Osferths hand held on to your lower back rubbing slowly in a soothing manner. "Loan Sharks came by a week after his funeral demanding their money. We paid them all we had in the bank but we still owe more. That's why I dropped out. That's why I strip."

"How much do you owe?"

"...not much left. I'll be done by the end of summer." Osferth nods. "Are you sure you're okay with the fact I strip? I know most guys-"

"Im not most guys. I get your situation. I just wish you had told me."

You smile softly. There is a moment of silence in between you two before Osferth leans back down for another kiss. This one is slightly different it's hungry and more aggressive. His hands slide down from your back to your butt giving it a playful squeeze.

Osferth walks you backwards into your house and uses his foot to close the door. As the kiss continues you soon notice a taste on your tongue, tequila.

You giggle against his lips, Osferths brow raises as he pulls away.

"What's so funny?"

"Did you drink before coming here?" His face flushes the tinniest bit as a smile creeps on his face.

"I took a shot in my car...liquid courage." It definitely gave him plenty of it. "I want you...so badly." He kisses the side of your face making his way down your neck, you tilt to the side giving him more access. "All of you."

You had never had someone say that to you. That they wanted you. Somewhere along the way you came to terms with the act that you could possibly never hear those words. But here they were, coming from the lips of the boy you least expected to say them.

"W-we shouldn't-" You pull your head back. You didn't know much about Osferth but you did know his family's religious standing.

"Yes-" He kisses you again before leaning down more so he can lift you up. "We should."

"Thought you were the wait until marriage type." Osferth smiles as he lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He carries you over to the couch sitting down with you straddling him.

"I can always repent." His hands roam up under a sweatshirt. "How about we take this off." You help him lift the shirt over your head. He takes a second admiring how good you look in your bra before reaching behind you to undo the clasps.

Once undone he flings your bra off to the side. He marvels over how perfect your tits fit in his hands. Gently rolling your nipples between his fingers before taking one in his mouth.

He sucks eagerly before releasing your nipple with a lewd pop and giving the other the same attention.

You could feel him getting harder below you, his cock straining in his jeans. You grind down on him as he gently grazes one of your nipples with his teeth watching your face for reactions.

You help him take his shirt off before leaning down to kiss him. Osferth was beautiful, despite the somewhat nerdy and shy look to him his body looked like it belonged to another man.

"Are you sure?" You understand like anyone giving your virginity is a big step. He nods and meets you the rest of the way pulling you against him into a soft kiss. He holds the back of your neck keeping you close as he continues rolling your nipple between his fingers.

He pulls away only to help you take off your sweatpants and to shimmy out of his jeans. You can only now see just how hard he is, the tip already leaking.

You reach in between you want to touch him but he gently grabs your wrists.

"I've wanted this for long I can't wait any longer." You lift your hips as he lines himself up. His face is fixed on yours as he lowers you unto his length watching every facial reaction, studying you.

Osferth's fingers grip your hips as you fully sit down. his breath coming in short pants as he leans his head against your chest.

"D-dont move yet. I want this to last." It takes him a moment before he starts to guide your hips to move slowly. You enjoy watching the pleasure plastered on his face.

You let Osferth take control as he pulls you against his chest planting his feet on the floor to gain leverage. You're taken off guard as he picks up pace not giving you a moment to breathe.

Motivated by your moans Osferth keeps going wanting to make you feel good, wanting this to be good for you.

"Osferth~" You rest your head on his shoulder his moans filling your ears. Those are the only sounds besides the crude sounds of his balls hitting your ass with every thrust.

His arms wrap around you holding as close to him as possible wanting to feel all of you inside and out.

"Does it feel good love?" his voice is sultry and only makes you clench around him. You nod back and can feel him smirk against your neck. "It must. I can feel you dripping down my thigh."

He stopped as he moved you both around laying you on your back, one leg over his shoulder and the other wrapped around the back of your thigh.

His eyes marvelled as he watched himself slowly slide in and out of you glistening with your arousal.

Seeing your body covered in a thin layer of sweat your eyes glazed over had his cock twitching within.

"I don't think ill be able to hold back much longer." He began moving once more picking back up in pace. The new angle had him hitting a spot within you that you had not known was there.

Osferth let go of one of your legs and has his hands found a way to your clit rubbing it gently. He could feel you tightening around him, your body writhing beneath him.

He watched as your orgasm washed over you. Your back arching off the couch, the way your eyes roll back slightly and you moan his name.

In his eyes, you looked like a goddess.

The view brings Osferth his own release he pulls out his cum painting your stomach.

You both sit for a moment minds racing to comprehend what just happened between you two.

"..how about we go shower then head to the party?" He stands up offering his hand, and you take it getting up off the couch.

Despite the doubt that crawls in your mind about if he's truly ok with your profession, you can't question one thing. He makes you feel loved and safe, a feeling you have not felt in a while.

And that there was no longer a need for an illusion.

A/N: AGAIN IM SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK IF ANYONE STILL CARES. AND SORRY FOR THE SHITTY WRITING.

[judjira]

cigarettes on cigarettes

AN: a preview of a dahyo fic im working on ! this one hit me while i was on vacation and it just stuck with me so i started writing it ! it’s almost done(?) so i hope to post it soon!

pairing: dahyo themes: coming of age, requited but complicated love wc: 1647

jihyo catches dahyun smoking the first time after finals.

it’s a party, sana’s party. the girl can’t get enough of them. she had one party to celebrate the end of midterms, another party to celebrate midterm break, another party to celebrate jeongyeon and momo’s birthdays, another one for thanksgiving, one more for the first day of snow, and finally, one to celebrate the end of finals.

she suspects there’ll be three more before the month ends: one for christmas; one for sana’s own birthday; then one for new year’s.

jihyo doesn’t hate it, really. she does lament the fact that she’s always in charge of convenience store alcohol runs now, especially that most of them have turned 18—not that that stops any of the younger ones from drinking. sana’s really ramped up her party game, especially now that it’s half of their little group’s last year of high school.

sana’s just forced everyone to take a shot of some spiced rum (courtesy of mina’s generosity and rich parents) in her lovely, two floor home that her parents are barely around to live in. sana’s house has always been everyone’s go-to spot after school to hang out, and it’s a comfort that some things haven’t changed.

jihyo steps outside, into sana’s gated garage, where two suvs sit, making a narrow pathway in between to the front of them, a cool spot at the front of their driveway where the night breeze hits just the right way.

speaking of the night, it’s a gloomy one. dark foreshadowing clouds hang over the entirety of their residential area, a place far from the urban reaches of the city. it’s nice and quiet, no sounds except chaeyoung’s aggravated rap-screaming and jeongyeon’s hyped cheers spilling out into the garage.

it’s to clear her mind, she tells herself. of course, it really is a partial truth, what with how noisy the girls are and how chaotic they can be—fun chaotic, of course, not fun chaotic is rare—but it’s not the whole truth.

the whole truth is sitting on a stool in front of one of sana’s parents’ cars, a cigarette in between her index and middle finger, calmly blowing smoke through the gaps in the gate.

“dahyun? are you—is that a cigarette?”

dahyun turns around, eyes wide and caught in the headlights as jihyo’s voice has taken on that characteristic responsible tone that is to be expected from a class president.

“um…no? hi, ji.”

dahyun attempts, putting the cigarette down, hiding it out of sight as if jihyo doesn’t have object permanence.

the audacity, really. dahyun’s one of their youngest, a year below jihyo, and of all the people to be smoking, it’s the one she expects to be most responsible after her—not counting mina, considering mina’s way too serene to be involved in irresponsibility.

the irritation in jihyo’s mind is only subverted when the nickname echoes in her mind.

ji.

“i did—how did you—why in the world are you smoking?”

jihyo approaches, and gets a closer look at dahyun.

she’s dressed comfy, as she normally is, and it’s the sort of comfy that makes jihyo want to just cuddle her up into her arms and melt into her embrace. a large, oversized white sweater reaches down to dahyun’s knees, her feet perched on the chair, and at the edges of it, jihyo can see her black shorts peeking out. the sleeves of the sweater bunch up at her wrists, with enough loose space for jihyo to fit her entire hand in.

“um…it suited…the vibe?”

jihyo snorts, the attempt at an excuse entirely evading her as she comes closer to dahyun.

her skin is shining, reflecting the pale bluish white light of the moon, eyes glimmering with stardust as she tries for an apologetic smile.

“sorry, ji.”

there’s no attempt at a further explanation, and jihyo doesn’t ask for one. dahyun can be a wall of unreadable emotion when she wants to, and right now, that’s all jihyo can see.

it hurts, somehow.

that her guard is up when it’s just jihyo and her.

like there’s something to protect.

(like jihyo would not do her all to protect it. to protect her.)

“i’m not going to go into the whole smoking is bad for you lecture—but i just…you—i hope you know what it is you’re getting into.”

she tumbles over her words. as she always does when it comes to dahyun. she’s not sure why dahyun’s soft, shining eyes always instill her with such a sense of nervousness, hesitation. like she’s not sure if her feet are placed right on top of a tall, looming cliff.

dahyun rolls her eyes good-naturedly, pulling another chair from her side for jihyo to sit on.

“i know, i know. i’ve been doing it since last year, so i think i’m pretty familiar with the side effects.”

last year? dahyun’s been smoking since last year? how on earth did jihyo not even notice? she’d thought the three youngest of their little family had the most of her attention, because of their propensity to get into trouble.

“why? i mean—why’d you start?”

jihyo asks, as she sits down next to dahyun, cool plastic meeting her skin where her shorts don’t reach. it’s a startling feeling, almost as startling as seeing dahyun lift the cigarette up to her lips once more, breathing in slowly.

“to be honest? i don’t know.”

there. that’s one of dahyun’s tells. jihyo prides herself on being able to tell when any of them are lying to her, and dahyun’s has always been the three special words that prefix her statement.

it hurts.

she’s being lied to twice overall. the first, for whatever lie dahyun’s concocted to hide what she feels. the second, that dahyun’s being honest.

it hurts more because dahyun says it most often around jihyo.

“it’s just something i picked up. i was at the convenience store one day, when i saw a pack by the counter. i guess the clerk was pretty busy, or they didn’t care, because i just swiped it and moved on. that was my first one. eventually, i just started buying them.”

dahyun’s stolen, too. how much more does jihyo not know about dahyun? how much more has she failed one of their youngest?

“don’t worry, ji, i only buy a pack once a month.”

dahyun smiles at her, and the attempt at easing jihyo’s worries goes for nothing, because jihyo will always worry about dahyun.

“that doesn’t comfort me in the slightest, but you’re grown up now, so you’re in charge of you.”

jihyo sighs, and it’s a genuine one. with the expelling of air also comes the expression of…disappointment? melancholy? malcontent? the expression of something bad.

“grown up, huh?”

dahyun looks towards the street, cigarette hanging from her lips. her lips…a distinct shine gleams to them, a thin white strip glossing over her smooth skin, and jihyo’s quickly averting her eyes.

“i don’t feel grown up at all.”

jihyo sharply inhales, because it’s a crack in the wall. dahyun’s wall. and she never has cracks in her wall.

“how come?”

jihyo tries not to sound too eager, because getting to know kim dahyun is hard, and when she offers a chance like this, you can be damn sure jihyo’s going to take it.

“i don’t know, really. i still feel like i’m that little six year old girl you picked up and basically adopted all those years ago, riding my bike around the block and always tripping over myself.”

dahyun hugs her knees closer, and the urge to wrap her in her arms is there, like they always did when they were just two kids in the neighborhood, playing with imaginary stories and singing their made up songs.

it’s a far cry from what they are now, two childhood friends that have slowly drifted apart over time, only coming together again because of mutual friends.

“i don’t feel grown up, because i’m still making the same mistakes.”

dahyun turns to her, and in those eyes of hers, jihyo can only see her own uncertainty reflected in them, swirling in a galaxy of the unknown, with stars of dubious conviction dotting the horizon.

“mistakes like what?”

jihyo asks, even though she knows she’s pushing. pushing the limits of what jihyo should know about dahyun, the limits of what lies behind dahyun’s wall, more cracks beginning to show in its surface.

she’s close, so close.

dahyun takes a deep breath, putting out the cigarette on the wall, embers sparking against the concrete, and flicks the butt out through the gaps in the gate.

then dahyun turns to her, and her cool hand secures itself on jihyo’s neck, a blast of chill against the heat she’s been feeling ever since she stepped outside and laid eyes on dahyun.

“mistakes like this.”

dahyun murmurs, not that jihyo catches it.

because in the next moment, dahyun’s lips are on hers, the tension exploding into fireworks in the sky as dahyun’s soft, soft, soft lips are now touching jihyo’s.

this close, their noses touching, jihyo can almost breathe dahyun like she’s air, cool and breezy at the top of a mountain, and just the right amount of thinness to it that it feels like jihyo’s at the peak of the atmosphere, oxygen beginning to run empty.

it’s wonderful, it’s amazing, it’s everything jihyo’s ever wanted.

except the taste of ash and smoke rises to the surface.

jihyo’s the first to pull away, even though she doesn’t want to.

“…i—what? dahyun, you—what were you—i don’t…”

the moment’s gone as quick as lightning, because dahyun’s standing up, trudging back to the house. behind her, she leaves a trail of longing, yearning that seeps into jihyo’s skin, buzzing electric like the static of a power line.

jihyo’s left there in a daze, until nayeon comes out looking for her.

“babe? you alright?”

she should tell nayeon, her girlfriend of almost two years now. it’s only fair, nayeon would tell her immediately if the same happened to her.

“yeah, i’m…i’m good.”

it hurts.

[walkingdangernoodle]

so uhm. hey. just got broken up with today. it was an 11 month relationship (one year on the 24th). i don't know why i'm writing this, i already went through the worst of the emotions.

i kinda saw it coming, they were growing distant and pulled away from me more. i felt bad for even thinking we were gonna break up, but i can't lie and said i wasn't thinking of it.

they were always bad at showing affection, and it always felt like more of a close friendship, and later a more distant one, then an actual romantic relationship. there were a few moments that felt right, but it was always me initiating it so it felt one sided. especially at the end it felt very one sided, which makes sense because they lost feelings.

i was ashamedly jealous of a lot of their friends when they talked to them a lot or hugged or even held hands, because between me and those friends, there wasn't really a difference except a label. it just felt like a friendship. they rarely complimented me or showed much affection.

they said they loved me maybe twice or three times, all over text. i wasn't the best at that either but i was the one that said it first, and continued saying it first a couple more times. it wasn't that they couldn't express their love, they did it plenty of times to friends and that's also what hurt. i never felt loved in that relationship.

i know it happens, people change and grow and move on. it still hurts though. it just hurts. and it sucks because it feels like i'm the one that was more hurt about it, it feels like i always cared more. it hurts

we decided to remain friends, and i know it's going to be awkward but we had a lot of good memories so i hope we can move past this. im glad it happened and that it won't drag on any further. i always wanted more. they were bad at showing affection- so it was almost nonexistent and i had to ask for it. the rare moments when it was offered freely felt amazing, and i think i was chasing that high and hoping it would happen again and again. it never did.

we had a dance on the 24th of september. i thought it was the perfect opportunity even though i felt bad thinking of it that way. it would have been our 7 month anniversary, and we hadn't kissed yet. near the end of the dance, i asked them "so hey do you wanna kiss". i know i know it's lame, but i was so nervous and i'd asked my friends for advice, and they said to keep it light and casual.

they were silent, despite us sharing a few words before then. the music was loud, the lights flashing. we sat there for a bit. a friend came up to us on the bleachers and that was it. after that dance i went home and cried for a bit, then i started looping heather. in total i played it 1,272 times.

"why would you ever kiss me, im not even half as pretty"

a few days later we talked about it and they brought up a few other things that was on their mind about us. i stopped looping heather on dec 3, a foolish hope still in my head that they would kiss me, that they would love me. that they could. despite telling myself that i'd give up on us ever kissing, i held onto it until the end.

i don't know where this is going or if it even had a start or end. i'm thankful for all the good moments we shared and i'm trying to keep that in mind. it's good that they broke things off. it still hurts.

they still have my hoodie, they've had it for quite awhile now. i'd asked for their clothes/sweaters before and they've given me their sweater once in what feels like so long ago. they asked for it back after a bit.

i think i have a preferred love language, but i've learned to love people in every way i can. i gave so many gifts, i dropped things to spend time with them and i feel like i didn't get much back. maybe i had high expectations. i never felt loved in that relationship.

maybe i just wanted to be loved.

it always comes back to that, doesn't it. just once i wanted to be loved and wanted and enough. and maybe if it happened once it could happen again. and again and again and again-

i just wanted to be loved.

i feel like i cared so much about them and they didn't care as much about me. if they did i wouldn't know, because they were bad at showing affection.

either way, im glad they ended things. they lost feelings.

and it hurts like hell !!!! but i'm here.

i am breathing

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 10: BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN

y/n is back in brooklyn for the holidays. thinking that a stream will make her feel less homesick for cali, she starts working on her famously titled hentai.free.srv. what was supposed to be a relaxing stream turns into a special delivery about two hours in.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 2.2k ─── ❥ req: Here's one... You know those apps for delivery like Domino's or whatnot... What if reader is streaming Among Us with Corpse, and reader mentions they're hungry and Corpse offers to order them food, and readers like no no it's fine... Then there's delivery at the door (Corpse ordered beforehand) 

author’s note: fucky format is also back in town baby!!! also if you find any mistakes - no u didnt <3 thank u everyone for enjoying this story sm i literally cant believe how feral yall going strawberry cow was a nuclear explosion im still recovering tbh. got an ask a while ago and decided to incorporate it into myso. happy holidays everyone! myso will continue on monday!

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous.  ҉   next.

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Indeed, being soft on any social media platform was the biggest disgrace and needed to be eliminated post haste. Moreover, it was a slippery slope - once you start flooding your timeline with cute imagery and heart emojis, what will stop you from posting inspirational Facebook quotes? Disgusting. If Rae were here, she would chide you (not you thinking about her as if she’s dead or something). For once in your life, you feel like you deserve it. 

Alas, you hope this little chaos you’ve caused is enough to throw everyone off. The stans, especially. You know the hashtags, you’ve seen ARMY scourging for info online with the same fervor and ruthlessness 1 Direction fans hacked airport security cameras just to spy on the boys. If you had any dirty secrets online, they are out to the public now - thankfully, besides the Harry Styles stan account (with edits and all), you have nothing. Though, now that you think about it, exposed nudes would have been better than your Punk!Harry edit receiving almost a million views. God, your life’s a fucking mess.

Your fans aren’t the only ones out for info - you, too, are trying to decipher Rae’s message. Code: Barbecue Sauce. The two of you had come up with it roughly two years ago, around the same time when you promised that if you didn’t find significant others by the time you’re 40, you’ll just marry each other. It was one of the many rules found in your friendship codex. Barbecue Sauce signifies information - an exchange of information. And depending on how it ends or begins (”So I’m sitting there” alludes to Rae, “On my titties” alludes to you), secret data on that person is given away, usually free of charge. 

But why? And to whom did Rae give away what? You had pestered her mercilessly and even sent some voice messages where you were crying. You were only crying because of a video of a grandpa smiling you saw on TikTok, but you are a snake, and so you put those tears to good use. If streaming doesn’t work out, you’ll just become an actress. Hollywood would love you. Your PR firm sure as fuck wouldn’t, though.

Rae was having none of it. She said you’ll figure it out eventually. Told you to channel your superior puzzle skills. You were quick to remind her that you can barely count to ten without having an aneurysm. Oddly serious, she admitted that she worries for you sometimes. Why only sometimes?! you demanded. She merely sighed. uttering under her breath something that sounded closely to “Boke.”

You leave her for barely a week and she’s already neck deep in the gay volleyball anime, hoodie and cardboard cutout and everything. Your life is falling apart.

But Brooklyn is nice. It had snowed when you stepped off of the plane. Thousands of snowflakes sprinkling into your hair, dotting your cheeks and nose. You missed this sight back in Cali. You missed your parents, too. 

Home cooked meals, old sweaters, your old room and about 40GB worth of old high school pictures on your computer. You went through them all one night. Some were stomach churning, cringe inducing nightmares. You were especially fond of those. Texted some of your friends that were still in Brooklyn, met up, decided to bake. Bad idea, Rae was the resident chef back in Cali. Besides laughing till your stomach hurt, and almost burning down your kitchen, nothing all that significant happened. Somewhere down the line, at about 3 am, half-way through a cheesy rom-com you had the overwhelming urge to text Corpse.

That’s where the problems really started. God, you missed California, missed being in the same timezone with a guy you hadn’t even met yet, how embarrassing is that?! You missed skating around and taking pictures of the beach in the setting sun, sending it to him, silently wishing he was with you to admire the view. 

You really want to call him. And to hang out with him. But for some reason, the thought of that springs up immediate anxiety and you shy away from asking. Him sending you cute good morning texts doesn’t help, either. Maybe it’s better he doesn’t know that you’re a blushing, stuttering mess each time you read “baby”. 

Late evening. Your stream is already set up, people are slowly trickling in and you greet them with a grin and a soft “Hello! Hi hi!”. You did your best to make your room a perfectly chaotic backdrop - led lights, an embarrassing amount of anime merch and plushies. You always try to balance out your weeb side by dressing hot as fuck for your streams - today’s inspiration just so happens to be egirls. Mostly because you watched one too many egirl make-up tutorials on TikTok, and also because you’ve been listening to Corpse’s song all day.

Yeah, no, who are you kidding, you dressed up this way because you were hoping Corpse was watching your stream. You didn’t forget your cat headphones, either. You know he likes them. You want to make him suffer. Perhaps then, finally, he will ask you out, so you wouldn’t have to.

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“I feel like,” You start when you put away your phone, staring idly at the chat, “I feel like I need a new name for you guys. Calling you guys after two years of streaming is just... weird, no? I also don’t respect men so I don���t want to call you guys. Like, so many creator’s have, like, a name for their fans. Uhm, Cody Ko has the chodesters, Kurtis Conner has, uh, folks? Kurtis Town? Citizens! Markiplier has mommy issues--” You can’t help snorting, “So, I’ve been, like, thinking - I know, shocking! - so I was thinking I’m gonna name you cockroaches. Because you’re grimy little shits impossible to kill. And also then I can use the legendary Minaj meme ROACHES!”

Your stream enthusiastically echoes ROACHES, making the chat swim. Yes, if anyone would enjoy such a name, it would be your audience. You’re as equally proud as you are disturbed.

“Well, anyway.” Leaning back into your chair, you throw your arms out with a bright grin, “Big dick is back in town, baby! If you noticed the backdrops different, it’s cuz I’m in Brooklyn now. Don’t ask me when I will return to Always Sunny, I don’t plan that far ahead.”

While Minecraft boots up, you decide to answer a few questions.

r u dating sykkuno?

You want to smack your head into the keyboard, but as it is, you can’t exactly afford a new one, so you refrain, “No, Sykkuno and I are not dating, we are just good friends. Uhm, I’m not sure how much I’ll have to repeat this, but, we really aren’t, so if the roaches could chill - Oh my God, that sounds so stupid, I love it - uh, yeah, if the roaches could chill that’d be great.”

the roaches lmao sounds like we’re a sports team

“Oh shit, yeah it does, uh-- maybe I can make like, jerseys or something. That’d be cool, I think.”

how disappointed are your parents with the way your life turned out?

“My parents are actually not disappointed at all!” You say with a cute little smile, “Uhm, they’re both really proud, actually. They’re glad I found something I love doing and made a job outta it. Dad finds my Youtube videos endearing. Yes, they watch pretty much all of my videos, unless I explicitly tell them not to. And yeah, with all the fucks and thirsting for anime characters. Uhm, it was very embarrassing at first, but I mean, after a while, shame just...doesn’t exist anymore, I guess? Funny thing about my parents, actually, when they watch my videos-” You eye catches a comment, “Oh! No, they only watch my Youtube videos. They don’t know how to use Twitter, thank God. Uhm, anyway-- when they hear a name they don’t know, like, I dunno, Dabi, or something, they google--” You’re grinning by now, eyes crinkling, giggling softly, “--who that is, and buy me like, merch and stuff. It’s really cute. 

can i be adopted by ur parents plz

will you and corpse ever collab?!

You were about to answer, though the man of the hour himself decides to do it for you.

Corpse_Husband: yes.

Okay, not to say your heart skipped a beat, but it totally did. With a pleased smile, you nod, like one of those bobble head toys sold at the dollar store. The motion is oddly reminiscent of Sykkuno’s own nod. Perhaps you had picked it up from him. The chat seems to notice.

pack it up, sykkuno

More questions pile about this mysterious collab you and Corpse are planning. Yeah, you’d like to hear more about it, too, since he single highhandedly decided one was happening right now. Corpse remains silent. Fine, keep your secrets. 

“Okay, guys, oh, I mean, roaches, Oh my God--” You’re covering your mouth, giggling, “-calling all roaches, calling all roaches, calm down. Everyone grab a snack and a blanket I’m turning up the music volume so we can all chill. Entering chill zone. Entering chill zone. Roaches, prepare.”

we are prepared

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An hour or so passes and you grow hungry. It shows with the amount of cakes you had baked in your server. Currently, you find yourself throwing eggs at the wall of one of the renovated houses, your face scrunched in concentration and slight frustration. 24 of the 50 eggs have been wasted. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some chicks around here?” you had uttered under your breath, until, finally, a screech - the egg finally spawns a mob. Your mouth falls open, “Aww, look!” You approach it, so small, walking in zigzags beside you, “It’s a baby chicken! Die, bitch.” The baby chicken is no more as you swing your bedazzled (you have mods) diamond sword. You’re cackling by the time the dust settles.

y/n is a child murderer

“Roaches,” You address your fan-base, spurring another fit of laughter - you can’t get over the name, “I think I’m like, forgetting that eating in Minecraft won’t actually make less hungry in real life.”

take a break and go eat queen <3

“Fuck no, we starve and die like men. Now I actually really need another chicken.”

Another twenty minutes trickle by and you’re trying to lure back a panda from the jungle when there’s a knock on your bedroom’s door. Whipping your head to the side, you slide down your headphones. At the same time, your mom pokes her head through the ajar door, “MOM!” You scream, “Get OUT of my room I’m playing Minecraft!” But your yell has no actual bite to it, as you don’t manage to hide your smile. Your mom laughs, doing some sort of sign language and motioning for you to follow her with her head. That or it’s some sort of performative dance. 

“I’m live right now,” You tell her, pointing at your screen. She knows this already, though, “do you want to say hi?” 

The roaches spam the chat with friendly hellos. You mom, quite impatient now, waves you over. 

“Sorry, roaches, mom needs something. Be back in a bit!”

Stopping the stream, you rush out of your seat and pleased she slinks into the hallway. “What’s this about?”

“Your pizza came.”

“My what now?” You echo, confused.

“Domino’s. You ordered pizza?”

“What? No? I was busy with the stream, I never--”

Thankfully, you had managed to grab your phone from your room before you exited. You almost choke on spit once you read the messages.

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You decide that it’ll be impossible to stream after experiencing what you had just experienced. You tweet out a quick apology to the roaches (God, that fucking name) and say that you had a breakdown but you’re okay. That is as a close to the truth as you managed to muster. It’s a sad sight, chewing and crying; your mom winced when she saw your state - disheveled hair and rundown eyeliner and everything. “D’aww,” She had muttered, caressing the top of your head, “don’t cry my little raccoon.”

If anyone was ever to ask you where did your chaotic nature come from, you’d answer with my mom. To make yourself feel better, you took a selfie - duck face and peace sign and the horrible 2000′s angle. Sent it to Rae. 

looking hot, her message read. 

thanks, was all you replied with.

You couldn’t just leave things as they were. Once you calmed down, you wanted to text Corpse, but how would you follow up the ungodly caps lock and screeching? Impossible. An idea sprung to mind, one that was brave. Taking the first step.

Instead of sending a text, you sent a voice memo.

“Thank you for the pizza, it was delicious.”

You voice still sounded a bit raspy. His reply was instant. Your heart skipped a beat. He sent a voice memo back.

“Glad you liked it, baby.”

He was going to be the death of you.

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @slashersdream - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai - @truly-dionysus - @multi-fandom-central707

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[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.  

[aamagi]

GOD UR ART IS SO CUTE OMG if its not too much to ask then arashi and anzu trying on dresses together??

beep beep beep.. dingdong! [ ^v^ ] order processed!!

enjoy adorable nonnie!! <3 underneath the cut are general rambles and my progress for this piece! its VERY long, and im not sure how the 'keep reading' tab works, so if this ends up malfunctioning somehow, lmk and i'll edit and cut out my rambles :o]

usually i dont go through insane lengths/thoughts to produce something, but i LOOVEE arashi so how could i not </3 first step of the progress was drafting and finding out what i wanted the two of them to wear!! it was teetering on being super fashionable (runway type of dresses) and just casual streetwear, but i went for the latter because it'd be really cute to imagine... like they're both trying out dresses together while on a date out!!?!??! YES ?!?!?! <3

you probably wouldn't guess it, but im quite the fashion holic!! cant say i dress up nice all the time, but i have an eye for things that look nice~ i drafted up a quick pinterest board on what i wanted their fashion to emulate :]

arashi is elegant but still girly, so i wanted some of those trendy jean skirts incorped into what they were wearing :]!! i wanted something round and long for arashi, so i ended up settling on a rather simple outfit, a lace tank with a buttoned cardigan with a slit jean skirt! the lace tank top is something super girly and cute that fits arashi well, and cardigans are a great way to make an outfit come around and feel more cuddly and warm! usually you'd wear something like a sweater or a turtleneck to nudge towards that theme of 'elegance', but i didn't want to hide arashis form or line of action with all that round and flowy fabric ^^ i gave arashi some really cute strappy heels :] it’s very classy but also super cute!!

next is anzu's!! it was something a little easier for me, since now i can go off what i just made for arashi's outfit!! i wanted something that opposed arashi's fit but still complimented it, and after a bit of pinterest roaming i ended up with something akin to a t shirt dress?!?! im not sure the technical fashion term but it's a blocky dress with no real curves, and i added some loose ruffles to the hem of it! its almost a little childish looking, but i feel like it's simple look compliments the beautifully simple anzu as well ^_^ i struggled with patterning for anzu, so i ended up with a simple flower design! i gave them the sort of ‘chunky fila’ shoe feel, if im being honest with you, i just ripped the design from the hi horses from splatoon (sweat)

after that is my funny little drafting progress! here's my tiny doodle page for what i wanted to draw -- you can obviously see which one i went with, ehehe :]

after drafting and choosing one, i import the image onto my drawing program and the magic begins! i go pretty quickly from my sketch to my 'lineart', i don't rlly have a stage between those... its easier for me to draw what i envision right onto my models, because if i have a preliminary 'cleaner' sketch i start to feel closed in to what artistic liberties i have ekekek... here's a gif comparing the lineart to the draft!

then, i get straight to the flat colors!! i make my canvas a darker color just to be able to clear blemishes more easily, which is harder with lighter colors and a lighter canvas backing ^^ this is the most tedious part of the drawing process for me, especially because im rlly horrid at making palettes off the top of my head TT you can definitely see what i mean in anzu's dress palette, where i just went for a random rainbow color assortment TT

shading is my favorite part of drawing, since it doesnt take much thought and i just slap colors randomly!! i usually do minimal shading first on a clipping layer, and then after that i choose a complimentary color and use it along the shaded area to create a more lively shadow! i also just go one tone up for light highlights, i think you can see it the best in this part of arashi's skirt!!

and after all of that, with a half butted attempt at a background, i finish the piece! if ur here reading this.... sorry for rambling so much, my creators forgot to give me something to cram my piehole with [ X_X ]=C i hope u enjoyed reading through my drawing process!

[plush-rabbit]

Ice-Cream Date with Tomura Shigaraki

Request: Hello so may i request shigaraki with a s.o whos warm loving and protective and very innocent basically a s.o whos like mitsuri kanroji both personality and look wise

Female pronouns,maybe they are out on a date getting ice cream and the s.o is so happy shiggy came, they hold hands and people start giving him odd looks only for her to stand up to the bullies who are saying things about shigaraki, it ends with her kissing him infront of everyone to prove a point,and when the get home she tells him she doesnt care what people think and makes love to him topping hin while telling him all the reasons she fell inlove with him,(omg im so sorrry its so long if you have tpo many requests or dont like the idea please tell me)

Oh and the holding hands is more fingers

A/N: I hope I did this justice!! I also took a few liberties since he’s a villain, but I guess you can also count this before he officially popped up as a villain, so yeah!!

-

Tomura isn’t one to want to go out on a date. He prefers staying at home, or with you, and just watching a movie, or playing a game. There are very few reasons that will push him to leave the comfort of his room, and even then, those are scarce and in between. You hardly push him to leave his room, and he’s thankful for that. Today, however, happens to be one of the few reasons that he wants to leave his room. A game that he had pre-ordered had finally released and you’ve been bugging him for a date, so both events just happen to collide together.

The game is in a plastic bag that is held carefully in his hands- in a rush to leave, he forgot his half-covering gloves- and he has you beside him. You still have yet to learn of his quirk and he doesn’t know when or if you’ll even learn of it. But right now, he doesn’t have to think of that, he can just walk with you through the mall, arms linked together as you pull him to the food court. It’s a nice day that the two of you get to spend together without the interruption of buffering wi-fi, or someone knocking against your door.

Throughout the walk in the mall, he can feel the eyes of people on both you and him. He isn’t sure if you’ve noticed it, or if you’re choosing to remain ignorant as you talk about a trip you took with friends. He isn’t sure why people are staring at the both of you. He doesn’t have a mutation quirk, so he doesn’t really understand why people are staring. And even if he did, it’s a world full of quirks, where people with mutations have existed for a long while. Perhaps it’s just that he looks… odd, for lack of a better word. He’s never cared too much about his appearance, but even so, with all the eyes on him, he can start to feel his skin crawl.

Sensei has told him time and time again, that the outside world is something he shouldn't fret over. And he listens. He’s been told how he’s much better than them. He knows that he’s much better than them. It doesn’t take away the itch, but it certainly helps him ignore the stares of people who walk past the two of you. Plus, he isn't going to cause a scene in such a heavily populated area. And certainly, not in front of you. No one has approached either of you, and for now, that’s enough to prevent him from ruining the small date that you both are on.

His skin burns. Small little pinpricks that bit against him, and make him not-so-subtle scratch and tug at his own skin. He can control the more incessant scratching, the one where he wants to claw his hands down his throat, but he worries that he’ll activate his quirk by accident. He keeps his hands away from you, balled up into fists that are shoved into his sweater pockets as you pull him to a small ice-cream shop. He whispers to you to order for him- he’ll take whatever it is- and he goes to sit down, kicking his seat outwards and sitting with his hands clenched into fists. The scratching has begun to grow worse and his sweater now scratches and pulls against his skin.

When you sit in front of him, a soft purple ice-cream for you, and a more yellowed one for him, he mumbles a thanks and begins to eat it, wanting to finish so the two of you can leave. You eat in silence and when you put your spoon down, you ask him if it were the people that’s making his tic so much more worse. Tic? Ah, that’s right, that’s the excuse that he told you on why he scratched so much. He’s actually surprised that you picked up on the people staring- you really were just playing ignorant. He tells you to ignore it, to just hurry up and finish and he bits on the plastic spoon when you frown.

With your cup in your hand, you stand up, mumbling about going to get more napkins, and he’s left watching you walk away. He bites on the spoon, tearing off small plastic bits and spitting them out to the floor. You have the napkins in your hand and just as you’re about to walk back to him, people stop you. His eyes narrow and he can tell by the way that you furrow your brows and sneer, that they aren’t friends. He watches, and slowly, his breath quickens, his hands wrapping around the styrofoam cup until nothing is in his hands. He stands up, his hand sticky and then he sees you throw your cup at the people, your words drowned out by the noise, until it quiets down, attention all on you now. He can’t make out the words, but that isn’t important.

You both meet each other halfway, the game bag held carefully and your hands pulling on his wrist- he swore that he could have stopped breathing with how close you were to his hand- and you press your lips against his. You turn on your heel and give a crude gesture to the people who stand with ice cream coating their clothes. He’s left staring as you pull him out of the mall, rushing into your car to go home.

The way home is silent, with music playing lightly on the stereo. It isn’t awkward, but rather nice, as he stares out the window, watching the cars fall behind as you race home. Once at your place, the door is locked and you’re left pacing back and forth in your living room. He watches from the couch with an almost bored expression as you go on about how people can still be so immature about looks when there is a world full of quirks. He smiles at the sentence as has calmed enough to not feel the burning desire to scratch, but rather just chew at his bottom lip.

His eyes meet yours and he sees your attitude fade, watching as your shoulders rest as if the weight had been lifted off. You walk towards him, and your hand cups the side of his face and he watches you with half-lidded eyes. Tomura finds it funny how much you care for his well-being, how you ask if he’s okay, how you wrap your other hand around his neck and play with the ends of his hair. It’s one of the few times that he feels more calm than sick and twisted. It doesn’t take long for you to go on about what you like about him- his determination, the way he lights up when speaking about an interest, how he always finds time to listen and talk with you during his schedule. Not wanting to hear more, he nods and presses his kiss against yours; different than the one you gave him, lighter, almost as if it were a memory that were pressed against you, and when he pulls away, he gives your a short nod and tells you thank you, quietly adding “for the ice cream” at the end.

[highqueenofelfhame]

no tag list bc im posting this from my phone and am too lazy so pls reblog so this gets traction! thank you for reading and follow @highqueenofelfhamewrites for better and more frequent updates and turn on post notifications! i might do away with tag lists soon idk. the whitethorn kids are headcanons from @musicmaam and i so i hope you love the babies we love them very much and becca is a mastermind

masterlist

Outside, it was a still and quiet morning. Despite the sun having risen hours ago, the sky remained a murky gray. Dew clung to the grass and a light fog remained settled over the landscape. It looked cold and like the kind of day that would usually have Aelin curled up in the study, a roaring fire warming the room while she sat in one of the oversized leather chairs and reread a favorite book. Rowan knew that once outside, the cool air would be a sharp bite at his skin. It’s how Terrasen always was in early November.

Instead of reading, though, Aelin was staring at her side of the closet. Her fingers nervously tapped above her elbow while she surveyed dresses and pantsuits, jackets and turtlenecks. More than once she had murmured that she never knew what to wear, and more than once he had told her that it really didn’t matter and she would look beautiful all the same.

A level below, Rowan heard the front door open and close, followed by their oldest son, Arden shouting up the stairs that they were home. They referred to him and his boyfriend, Jamie, and Aelin and Rowan’s oldest, Evalin. The three had driven from the University of Orynth on the other side of the city to the family’s house on the outskirts of town.

Genevieve, Declan, and Endymion, the younger half of the Whitethorn kids, were all getting ready. Genny had been up with the sun to make breakfast for everyone, her hands sticky with cream cheese frosting and cinnamon by the time she had finished. Declan and Endy were down the hall, fighting for counter space in their shared bathroom while Genevieve finished up at the vanity Rowan had built her last year in her bedroom.

More noise followed the voices downstairs turned to a quiet murmur as Rowan approached his wife and rested his hand on her lower back. Aelin leaned back on her heels and into his touch, turning her head slightly. Rowan pressed a kiss to her temple and she shivered, reaching out for the dress that he knew she’d end up picking. It was his favorite.

“Perfect choice, fireheart,” he murmured, rubbing his hand across her middle back as she sighed and pulled it off the hanger that she dropped to the floor. Rowan chuckled to himself, nudging it toward her pile of shoes as he followed her back out into their bedroom.

Rowan was already showered and dressed. He wore a simple black suit with Aelin’s favorite dark green tie— one that she claimed brought out his eyes, though Rowan hadn’t noticed a single difference as he tied it around his neck.

“You are worrying about nothing,” he murmured into her hair, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. Aelin shuddered a sigh, licking her lips as she turned to look at Rowan over her shoulder. Their eyes met for a single heartbeat before moving to the door.

“I hope Arden and Evie remembered to pick everything up this morning.”

“I’ll go check,” he promised, squeezing her shoulder before walking away. Rowan paused in the doorway, turning to look at his anxious wife. She stood in front of the window, dress draped over one arm while she twisted her wedding band around her finger. It made his heart squeeze in the most painful way, but he left her and jogged down the stairs to where the rest of his family mingled in the kitchen.

Entirely typical of his children, none of them looked up when he entered. Gen was dressed in leggings and an oversized sweater, manning the stove to make everyone else eggs. Endy and Declan were arguing over who got the cinnamon roll in the center of the pan: it was the most gooey and beheld more icing than the others. Declan won out in the end, but only because Genevieve pointed a spatula at Endymion to remind him of a petty crime he’d committed against her the day before.

“You don’t deserve that cinnamon roll. You know what you did.” Endy snorted, but relented, allowing Declan to eagerly swoop in for the golden treat. A large dollop of icing slipped off the side, barely making it onto his plate as he did. Endymion sighed wistfully, likely dreaming of how good that would have been in his stomach instead of his brothers. Rowan laughed to himself, ruffling Endy’s hair as he walked by. His youngest shrugged him off with a shiver, lips pulling down into a frown while he looked over at his father, then to his older sister as she walked into the room.

“Has mom been down yet?”

“She’s still upstairs,” Rowan said, while the other kids mumbled that she’d yet to come down. Arden and Jamie slid into the empty barstools at the counter, accepting plates of bacon and eggs from Genevieve. “Can someone go check on her?”

“I’ll go,” Evie decided, heading up toward Rowan and Aelin’s bedroom, stairs creaking with every step.

Genevieve was watching Evalin up until she disappeared at the top of the landing, her lips twisting to the side as she shifted to turn the stove off. The kitchen settled into a comfortable silence, the scraping of forks the only disruption. Genny poked at the cinnamon roll she’d chosen for herself before pushing it away, toward Endy.

“I can’t eat,” she said quietly, tapping her phone screen, the time blinking up at her before it went dark again. It seemed that Endy could eat, however, because he pulled her plate over and dove into her cinnamon roll immediately after finishing his. It was almost enough to make her smile but she seemed to be fighting it off. Rowan moved to wrap his arm around his daughter, but she shrugged out of his embrace and disappeared up the stairs. If he had to guess, she was joining Aelin and Evalin.

“I’m worried about her,” Rowan and Arden said at the same time, the former cracking a half smile.

“Me too,” Endymion agreed, fingernail tapping against the counter while he looked over his shoulder. Rowan opened his mouth to speak, but the soft closing of a door followed by the squeak of the top stair silenced him. A moment later, his three girls were filing into the kitchen. Aelin hugged each of her babies, pressing kisses to their cheeks that they didn’t shy away from.

“We ready?” Arden asked, picking up the bag he’d brought in with him. Aelin nodded and rubbed her hand over Genny’s upper back.

Genevieve had always been the most anxious of their kids in the worst way. Over the last year, her panic attacks had only gotten worse and nobody really knew how to help her. A few months ago, she had finally caved and agreed to start taking medicine for it when she needed to. Judging by the way she stood, worrying her lip and twining the ends of her silver hair into tiny braids, Rowan wondered if she was already debating taking one of those pills to keep the monsters of the day at bay.

The ride was quiet. The only conversation consisted of Aelin and Rowan asking Evalin, Jamie, and Arden about their college courses. The youngest three Whitethorns stayed quiet and listened while looking out the windows and tapping on their phones. No music filled the empty silences— the last five minutes was nothing but garbled road noise and turn signals, the occasional sniffle of a nose, or a small sigh.

When the car was put in park, nobody moved immediately. Aelin stared through the windshield, fingers drumming on the gear shift. Rowan lay his on top of hers, but she didn’t look over at him. Instead, she tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and, after several heartbeats, nodded. Only then did the kids file out of the back seats, Genevieve going to take her mother’s left hand while Arden took her right. Rowan walked beside Endymion and attempted to steady his son when he stumbled over a rock that was hidden in the grass.

They walked through the cemetery, moving by headstone after headstone. Some of them were large and ornate weeping angels, others were crosses jutting out of the ground. A fair few were simple concrete rectangles in the ground with a vase for flowers. The one they came to stop at was something in between.

It was about two feet high in the middle of the graveyard, simple text embedded into the shiny quartzite stone. A large hawk had been carved into its surface, wings spread wide mid-flight, beak parted as though it were releasing a fierce battle-cry. There was no vase for flowers anywhere near it. Instead, piles of stones were left all around it. They were in all shapes, sizes, and colors. One had a painted hawk on the surface that he knew Genevieve’s boyfriend had left behind at the funeral last year.

Arden placed the bag he carried on the ground and they let Aelin be the first to pick her stone. She picked a large smooth one, a paler gray than the headstone itself that fit perfectly in her palm. She folded her legs beneath her body as she knelt before it, trembling fingers tracing over the name.

ROWAN M. WHITETHORN

JULY 16, 1970 - NOVEMBER 11, 2020

HUSBAND. FATHER. HERO.

TO WHATEVER END.

A breeze shifted through the air, moving Aelin’s hair across her face and she could have sworn it was warm. She could have sworn she smelled the familiar pine and snow scent that she would always and forever associate with her husband. Aelin could have sworn it felt like a lover’s caress, like fingers brushing away the tear that slipped down her cheek.

Aelin wasn’t sure how long she sat there, surrounded by their children. Each of them swapped their favorite stories about their late father, about what they missed most. All of them cried enough tears that Terrasen could hit a rare drought but the patch of grass they held each other in would still be green as ever.

When they finally stood, the air had dropped a few more degrees because the sun had never come out to keep them warm. It made that fleeting warm breeze even more bizarre, the one that smelled like him, considering the one that rustled the leaves on the nearby tree was cold enough to bite.

Out of the corner of her eye, she swore she saw him. She swore she saw a head of silver hair sock his head in her direction, but she blinked and he was gone, her oldest son stepping up in the place she thought she saw him, felt him, smelled him. Silver hair faded into a golden blonde that matched her own, but the eyes that peered down at her were as bright green as his father’s. Aelin felt her face crumple as she leaned into him, resting her temple against his shoulder. She inhaled hard, desperate for that pine scent to feel her lungs, desperate to erase the last year of her life without him. Desperate to pretend that he was still alive and it was his shoulder that she put her weight on.

But it wasn’t. And it wouldn’t be.

Still, as she looped her arm through his and started to walk back toward the car with their kids, she spared a last glance over her shoulder, projecting their vows into the void of the world: to whatever end.

She wasn’t sure what it was, but Aelin was almost positive she heard his voice whisper it back as another strange, warm breeze wrapped around her and left her completely breathless.

[fa-headhoncho]

Untitled TFATWS Fic: Part 3

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Prompt/Background: After turning yourself in to the government following the events of CA:TWS, they lock you up for the crimes you committed during your time at Hydra. Spending years there until Captain America got you on parole during the blip to help fight Thanos. Now, after doing community service acts and helping the broken society, when they give the new Captain America the shield, you’re thrown back into a life you didn’t want.

Word Count: 2058

Reader: Female

Warning: parole officers? canon level violence, john walker

Author’s Note: im being lazy and not writing rn but i have a stock pile of fics so get ready for shitty posts :p

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

=====

Once you get onto the plane, you don’t hold back your emotions. The fight was enough but how Walker talked to Sam and Bucky on the car ride over sent you over the edge. You had to admit, the kid had good intentions but there was something about him that was off.

You don’t even wait for his private jet to lift off before turning to him and pinning him against the nearest wall. Your forearm was laying across his chest while the other was hovering over the knife clipped onto your hip. His managers and friend stand up, rushing to try to pry you off of him but he raises a hand to stop them. “Who the hell do you think you fucking are, huh?”

“Captain America.” He simply responds, looking at down you with a cocky smile. You let out a scoff, the audacity of this man. “Look, I didn’t know that you knew them.”

“Yes, you did.” You exclaim while your forearm digs into his chest, “You read my parole reports, it shows where I spend my time and who I talk to, Bucky and Sam being the main two who I interact with. They’re my friends and you’re using me as a pawn. Steve wouldn’t have done that, Captain America wouldn’t have done that.”

“You talk about looking up to him but you’re nothing like him. You throw around ‘brother’ like it means nothing, you have no idea what those two have gone through with Steve. You hold the shield like it’s a toy and using it to get what you want.” Your voice is menacing low and you knew if you still had your parole officer that he would be scolding you for it.

“Captain America stood up for the little guys but you’re just using it as a title, abusing it to act like the hero you tried to be before. You’re a fucking joke.” You release him and walk away. The air in the room felt tense as you plop down on the chair closest to the exit, furthest away from his management team who didn’t know what just happened.

“If you think I’m going to stand by your side after how you just treated my friends, you’re dead fucking wrong.” You shake your head and lean forward in your seat.

He lets out a chuckle, taking a step towards you with his hands fisted by his side. “You’re going to help me if I say you are. I say the words and you’re locked back in the goddamn cell where you belong. Remember who brought you here in the first place.”

“Hey, John, calm down.” Hoskins finally buds in. Walker scoffs and shakes his head, following him to join the rest of their team.

You shift your eyes to the floor, knowing he’s right. The power the government is giving their new Captain is a desperate attempt to give hope to those after the Blip. It’s going straight to his head and you knew it was going to get worse in the long run.

The rest of the flight is awkward. The tension never settling even if Walker acts like nothing just happened. Hoskins was keeping a close eye on you like you were going to bounce back to your Hydra days and take out everyone on the plane. To be fair, you wanted to but you weren’t stupid and you didn’t want to give him another reason to send you back.

Once the plane touches down, you’re out the door. The group was barely out of the seats before they could see you disappear into the airport. Haling a cab and taking it back to the apartment they were renting for you, changing out of your gear and plopping down onto the bed.

The events of the day finally collapse down onto you. This situation was going to be a lot harder than you originally thought. Walker explained it as just one mission to see where the Flag Smashers were taking the stolen vaccines and you would be on your way. “Free at last” to use his words but now you were roped in for the long haul.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the look of betrayal on Bucky’s face either. He had confided in you about how he felt about the new Captain and how lost he felt. If Steve wasn’t right about Sam then what the hell was wrong with Bucky?

Before you realize it, tears were streaming down your cheeks. You knew it was too early to try to reach out to them so you decide to give them time. They were still processing their interactions with the new Captain and the new information about the Flag Smashers being super-soldiers.

If you were going to have to work with Walker, you were going to have to figure out a plan. Racking your brain for ideas, one comes to mind that would be risky. It would be worth it, though. Staring up at the ceiling, you start strategizing a way you could pull this off. You were one of Hydra’s best agents so hopefully, this would be easy. After going against your original thought and shooting Sam a quick text, you slowly drift off asleep.

=====

Your leg bounces under the table as you stare at the clock above the door. It was half-past seven and the breakfast rush was winding down. The diner was slowly emptying, leaving a hand full of tables with families and friends enjoying their meal. The waitress comes up to your booth, standing there until you notice her.

“Ready to order yet, hun’?” The nice older lady questions, breaking your gaze from the entrance to her. You shake your head no before turning back to the door. She gives you a sad smile before looking down at her watch, “It’s been almost twenty minutes, sweetie, are you sure your friends are still coming?”

You nod quickly, no matter what kind of circumstances the two soldiers would never stand you up. Their hearts were too kind for that. “I was just a bit early, I’m kind of nervous.” You shyly admit, sending her a smile.

“Well, I’m bringing you something to eat at least,” She commands, you open your mouth to reject but she cuts you off, “on the house.” She gives you a firm look before walking off to the back.

Right as she disappears into the kitchen, the bell of the diner dings. Your head snaps to it and you can’t help the large smile that appears on your face at the sight of the duo walking in. The two immediately see you since you placed yourself right near the door.

Sam sends you back a smile while Bucky just eyes you down. You were wearing a simple sweater and pants while they were in their usual civilian gear, a ballcap and jacket. You couldn’t help but ogle at how good Bucky looked in the blue Hently you two bought when he first came to Brooklyn.

They slip into the booth, their broad figures barely fitting on the small seat. Sam elbows Bucky as he tries to get comfortable but he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Morning.” You try to make conversation. “How was the rest of your day yesterday?”

“He got arrested.” Sam bluntly says making your jaw drop. “He missed his check-in with the shrink.”

“I told you not to tell her.” Bucky makes out through clenched teeth, he just shrugs in response. You go to scold him but he holds a steady hand out, “You can yell at me all you want later, what do you want? We don’t have much time.” Your heart drops with how aggressive he’s being towards you.

“I want to help you.” You announce, ignoring Bucky’s eye roll as he remembers who you’re working with. He goes to tell you off just like he told Walker but you start rambling before he could utter a word, “I know it’s not the ideal situation but Walker wants me on his team. If I could earn his trust and figure out what their plans are, I can report back to you two.”

“And how do we not know this is a setup?” Sam points out, leaning forward on the table as Bucky looks around the diner for any sign of said Captain America, “They could be listening right now, they still have you under lock and key.”

You gleam at the mention of that, realizing that you haven’t told them the good news. “Not anymore.” You extend your leg out from under the table for Bucky to see your naked ankle. “Walker pulled some strings to get me off my parole earlier.”

A look of realization comes across Sam’s face once he pieces everything together. He knew how mad you were about the new Captain America, how you helped him and Bucky against the Smashers instead of the other two, and how you didn’t know anything about Bucky getting arrested made sense.

“So, you made a deal with the devil.” Bucky snarkily questions, a look of disappointment on his face.

You let out a scoff at his words, “I did what I had to do, James. Not all of us were lucky enough to get pardoned.” You spit back, tired of how he was acting. “He tricked me, told me it was just one simple favor to repay him. Now, he wants me to be a part of his team to take down the Flag Smashers. Told me if I didn’t help that he would send me back to jail and it would reset everything I had accomplished in the last five years.”

Bucky’s eyes soften at your confession, hanging his head in embarrassment at his assumptions. The waitress comes up and sets the small plate of food down in front of you, giving an awkward smile to the boys before walking off.

You let out a sigh, feeling bad for yelling at him. He was being a dick but that didn’t mean you had to be one back to him. He was going through a lot and this was the last thing he needed.

Grabbing the fork, you stare down at the pancakes. “You don’t have to forgive me or anything but just understand where I’m coming from, please.”

They share a look as they silently communicate. Bucky narrows his eyes and Sam tilts his head at him. You look between them as you try to figure out what’s going on.

“I can’t read your mind, cyborg. Use your words.” Sam finally spits out then elbows him one more time, “Will you please scoot over? I’m suffocating over here!”

Bucky sighs and rolls his eyes at his friend. He gets up out of the booth and slips in next to you, using his larger form to push you closer to the window. Your eyes widen in surprise as he slings his arm to rest behind your head. He then takes the extra fork and stabs it into your hashbrowns.

Sam lets out an awe as he watches the two of you eat from your plate, “Don’t you two look so cute.”

“Shut up, Sam.” You both demand at the same time. He raises his hands up in defense, leaning back in the booth with a smug smile on his face. The two of you easily fall into conversation, catching up on things and giggling at the little jokes he was making. Suddenly, after a few moments of silence as the two of you enjoy the meal, you remember what Sam mentioned earlier.

Bucky lets out a little yelp when you send a swift smack to the back of his head, making the hashbrowns he was about to eat fall off his fork. “What the hell was that for?”

“For getting arrested, are you kidding me, James? Do you know what could’ve happened to you? I swear to God, James Buchanan Barnes, you will be the death of me—“ You continue to scold while Sam lets out a booming laugh. Mad at him for being so careless, you poke and prod at his chest but stop when you notice the expression on his face. Your heart can’t handle the way he pulls out his puppy dog eyes and his pouted lip. “Oh, don’t pull that shit with me.”

_____

untitled tfawts fic: @crowleysqueenofhell @mischiefmanaged71 @thewinterrbucky @lizajane3 @ahahafudge @spookycereal-s @a-girl-who-loves-disney @kittengirl998 @ sebby-staan

[takenbyheartstrings]

Yes, I’m Changing | Corpse x reader

pairing: Corpse x fem!reader

summary: as y/n infiltrates Corpse’s life and his life, he seems to be happier and more alive.

warnings: mentions of anxiety and depression, crying, fluff, angst and more fluff.

request: hello can i please request a corpse x reader where the reader and corpse meet and instantly become best friends and he starts to get happier around her and get a little less anxious - maybe like she’s his saviour? idk, also could you please make her voice the complete opposite of corpse himself? tysm 🤍🤍

a/n: tysm for requesting! i hope this lives upto your expectations ^-^ OBVIOUSLY most of this is made up - and i’m talking about the Leslie and Corpse storyline - so please don’t come @ me S,JDFNKJSDNF

alSO KINDA SHORT IM SORRY

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You sighed as you logged onto discord ready for your stream, your setup was your favourite colour, so you clicked on your webcam with a smile and clicked to start the stream. People soon started to flood in.

“Hey guys!” You smiled taking a drink of water, “Welcome to the stream, we’re playing Among Us today with Rae and Sykkuno and a few more new friends! I think Corpse is coming to play with us, I’m excited to meet him!”

You quickly joined the discord call, Ludwig, Rae, Sykunno, Toast, Leslie, Poki, Felix and Sean had already joined, so as soon as I joined that was 9/10 of the lobby.

“Hey guys!” You giggled happily.

“Hey Y/n!” They all greet you happily, as you adjust your headphones on your head, pulling your mic a tad bit closer.

Soon one more person joined the discord call, “Hey,” a deep yet soothing voice speaks up.

“Woah.” You mutter quickly realising your mic discord isn’t muted.

Corpse laughs, you two were the only one’s in the lobby who didn’t know each other, “I’m Corpse, and you must be y/n.” You can hear his smile through the screen, “Big fan.”

Your face flushes red and chat takes notice, “Yes, that is me, I am y/n, and I, personally am very excited to meet you!” You cheer, trying to keep your cool.

“Holy shit guys.” Rae chuckles, “Their voices are complete opposite - it’s like the angel and the devil.”

“Hmmm maybe,” You perk up, “I guess I’d be the devil then.”

Corpse chuckles at your comment as the round starts as you smile because of his laugh, proud of yourself that you made the man, the myth, the legend, Corpse Husband laugh.

That was a year and a half ago.

You knocked on the door tugging on your grey sweater as he opened the door quickly, letting you in, before pulling off his mask as soon as the door had closed behind you. Corpse smiled at you as you hurried inside placing Grocery bags on the kitchen counter.

The two of you decided to rent a place together in LA to be closer to your friends and open up a new line of opportunities. Well, that’s how you pitched it to your best friend.

Anyway, it was game night at the Corpse x Y/n residence, last week was at Sykkuno’s house where you all played What Do You Meme, now it was yours and Corpse’s turn. Playing Cards Against Humanity because they all knew you guys had the largest collection of cards. You quickly set out everything on the table as Corpse just admired you from the couch.

“You could help, y’know.” You glared at him as he sat there watching you.

Corpse pretended to think about it, “Well, if I try to help you’re just gonna push me away and do everything yourself anyway.” He smirks - he’s right. You know he is. He knows he is. Everyone know’s he is. You’re a control freak.

You huff, “So what?”

“So what?” Corpse lets out the loudest laugh he can, “Last time you almost broke my finger!!”

You pause, before leaving it at that, Corpse just chuckles as he sits there, you finish in no less than ten minutes, “It’s gonna be fine.”

“Never said I wasn’t.” You retort.

Corpse looks at you, “I know you better than anyone, y/n.” It’s gonna be okay.

And he was right, the night went great. Everyone was smiling and laughing and having fun. It was a night to remember, mostly because Rae almost got blackout drunk and Toast and Sykkuno had to take her home early. But she’d just laugh it off in the morning after you call her and make sure she’s okay.

Corpse stands up, “Anyone need a drink?” He questions, as everyone shake’s their heads. Leslie actually changes her mind and follows him around the corner to a small kitchen.

A lot of people wouldn’t have known this, but Lesilie and Corpse met way before he met Felix or anyone current. She looks at him with a soft smile as she watches him get her a drink from the fancy fridge they have in their house.

“What?” Corpse questions noticing Leslie’s look.

Leslie chuckles, “You love her, dude,” She sighs before he can protest it, “Don’t try to say that I’m wrong either. She’s changed you, you’re slightly happier now, you’re making your way up there, she lifts your spirits every single day and you should see the way you fucking look at her, because I know you don’t know. You love her dude and she loves you too, think about it.”

Leslie leaves the kitchen as her and Edison are the only ones left in the house, it was kinda sad to see it without people in it but you smiled regardless. “That was really fun tonight, thanks Corpse!”

Corpse smiles as you do, “Always. But I’m super beat, gonna try and get some sleep.” In reality, he wasn’t. He was just gonna think about what Leslie said all night.

She was right. You loved him. But you couldn’t tell him that because 99.9% of the time they didn’t reciprocate those feelings back. She had learned not to try with love anymore. So you were sitting in bed that night thinking about a life where you had something good. You had love and comfort. Though you felt it was never going to happen.

Corpse was doing the same - he didn’t take the shots because he was scared. He thinks about her. All the fuckin’ time. How he’s so glad she joined that lobby. Leslie was right she made him happier. She made his life better. Way fucking better. He thought about a life with her, that it would be so good to call her his girlfriend. Never have to see her with another guy again - because yes. He was jealous of all the one’s she’d bring home after a night out with her friends. But she didn’t know they would come out and he’d scare them off.

He didn’t know he was doing that - not intentionally.

Your music fades out of your head as you try to fall asleep to it, but it fails coming back into earshot. You turn to the opposite side of the music. You tossed and turned before standing up out of bed. You had to do it. You had to tell him how you feel and you had to do it now. Something made you compelled to do it. Something made you need to do it.

You opened your bedroom door stepping out of it quickly walking down the hall over to Corpse’s room. 

Your anxiety started to spike, you could feel tears on the brims of your eyes - you were starting to overthink.

“What if he doesn’t love me back”

“What if he’s in love with someone else”

Corpse was having the same spike of anxiety, as he started to overthink feeling his stomach - his gut churn. He knew he had to tell you. No matter how anxious he was, he was willing to take that 50/50 chance. You were practically speed walking, and so was he. The two of you ran into each other, falling onto the floor opposite of each other, your hands catching you, breaking your fall. You yelped before you both chuckled and Corpse helped you up. The two of you hadn’t realise how close you were until Corpse spoke and you could feel the warmth of his breath and minty toothpaste on your face.

“Corpse I- I need to tell you something.” He stopped you.

“No- I do.”

“Corpse I have to tell you!”

“Y/N I LOVE YOU!” Corpse yells pulling away from you as he starts to pace, “I can’t go a day without missing you - I can’t go a day without you here. I crumble, I fall apart. You make me happier, nobody’s done that before. You are a light to my life, you are my sun, you are everything to me and I don’t know how to live without you - how to function. You went to VidCon for three days and I fell apart completely. I. Love. You.”

At this point Corpse didn’t know what he was saying. He was just going with his gut. You sat there shocked. You just smiled at him after a while. You ran towards him and jumped into his arms pressing a kiss to his lips and then pressing them all over the rest of his face.

He was relieved to say the least - probably guessing this is what you were going to tell him and he loved that - he could finally love you.

He carried you to his bedroom, which would soon be the two of yours as it was larger in size and fell asleep comfortably in each others arms as the warmth of Corpse’s body radiated onto yours. His arms around you, holding you to never let you go. To never get hurt. To protect you from all the bad in the world.

The two of your feelings were finally at peace. It was a beautiful masterpiece called love. You changed Corpse for the better and he changed you for it too. You both lived in perfect harmony with each other. It was a comfort you had never truely felt before - same to him. Something that the both of you never wanted to let go of. Let alone each other.

[gojology]

The Start of Winter Break. (18+)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | I FEEL RLLY SAD CUZ I WANTED TO DO THE SUKUNA BUT I DONT KNOW THE STORY ON ALADDIN SO I OPTED FOR 2 INSTEAD IM SORRY ANON. anyways i wanted to feed u guys rlly well and actually took the time to write and edit. I’M REFORMED also writing on google docs is so hard?? (reposting cuz i think im shadowbanned)

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 3798

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | Food Play, Nipple Play, Oral (Fem Receiving), Degrading Nicknames (I didn’t really proof read that hard but I know there’s like, a mention of one nickname along the lines of that.)

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | It’s the first day of Winter Break, and you want to surprise Gojo with a cup of hot cocoa, instead, Gojo surprises you.       Blinking your eyes furiously, you adjusted to the dark room. Immediately, you breathe a sigh of relief. You didn’t have to wake up at such an early hour, and for once you woke up refreshed. It was finally the first day of Winter Break, you had overworked yourself, making sure that you were to spend the end of the year work-free and available for as many Christmas parties you wanted to attend.        Yawning, stretching as you did so, you look over your shoulder. There’s a slight smile dawning on Gojo’s lips.  His long eyelashes fluttered when he slept. He slightly snored, grabbing at where you once slept in his arms.   The room was unusually cold. You had always awoke to sunlight streaming from the window, realizing that could only mean that another day of work was ahead of you. But now, the room was dim, and freezing might you add. You couldn’t wait to snuggle with Gojo, this was perfect cuddle weather.   Tearing your eyes away from Gojo’s pretty face, you instead looked at the door. Years of photos with Gojo absolutely slathered the poor thing, past memories all flickering before your eyes. Pictures in Disneyland, bright colors in contrast with the rather dark clothes he always seemed to wear.   Once in a while, you would see pictures of Yuuji, Shoko, Megumi, Nobara, just about every Tokyo Jujutsu Tech School member there was, and even Utahime, celebrating good times with Gojo.      You didn’t find yourself in many of the pictures, but the ones you did find yourself happened to be some of your fondest memories.   Far more common were pictures of you, with ridiculous, shit, you’d even go as far as to say downright ugly faces while he told you a stupid joke were also taped sloppily, some photos were even slanted.    Gojo had made it a firm promise to take pictures of you when you least expected it, because that’s when he always found you the cutest.   You peek at Gojo’s sleeping face once more, a slight giggle rising from your throat that you struggled to silence. His mouth, slightly agape, was now drooling onto the pillow he oh so gracefully rested on.     Jerking your head up and snapping out of your Gojo daze, you realized that you were supposed to make your daily morning coffee for you and him today. You had chewed him out multiple times, telling him that the way he made coffee was nauseating. Usually, Gojo would always accompany the bitter drink with 8 sugarcubes, which was not your thing.   He always seemed to forget, honestly you couldn’t really tell with him, giving you a mug of absurdly sweetened coffee every morning. You always foolishly assumed that he had listened to you from the last scolding, so you would always sip it, letting the coffee coat your pallet, but promptly spit it out as soon as you realized how sickly sweet it was.     “Satoru! This is too sweet!”   “Honeybun, you’re the sweetest thing in this room, what do you mean the coffee could be too sweet? Not possible.” he would inquire innocently, tilting his head to the side.   You’d frown, shaking your head and muttering about the acts of distaste you’d do to him before Gojo bursts into a fit of laughter, pointing at you and watching you unenthusiastically look back. Most likely fuming silently, but you didn’t want to tell him that.   “You’re so fucking cute when you’re angry, (Y/N).”     “Satoru, I can literally not survive the day without coffee. Whatever you’re serving me is definitely not the coffee I want, and sooner or later I’ll be dropping dead.”     He would shrug playfully, as if he didn’t even understand the core concepts of what you were trying to tell him. But you knew he did, he just didn’t want to do it.    You would clench your fists, trying to look threatening. Your back straightening, and on your tippy toes even though you knew you could never be as tall as him. It never ever worked though, he would just continue to laugh harder, but that was just the routine.    “Then do it yourself, sweetie. I wake up at the asscrack of dawn just to make you a cup of coffee. I don’t know about you, but that’s the best show of love.”      “Oh I will. I’ll do it well.”      And so, you weren’t lying. The two of you began to take turns. You woke up even earlier than you did for work, and made him his coffee (with extra sugar, just as he likes it) while also making yours, making sure to relish the bitter and frankly delicious black drink, void of any sweetening. The next day, he would as well. He never listened to your sugar lectures though, making sure to add 3-4 cubes just to make you angry.    You had pretty much given up on all hope of ever getting your ideal coffee from Satoru, it was beyond him to even listen. Besides, you had grown to like the sweetness.   Speaking of brown sweet liquids, it was a perfect hot cocoa morning. The snow was beginning to pile up outside, pure white blanketing just about everything. You hastily threw on an oversized sweater Gojo owned, which you had found strewn on the ground.   You rolled your eyes, that guy was a mess. What would he do without you?   Trudging and stumbling your way into the kitchen like a newborn fawn, you flicked on the lights. As soon as the lights came on, you shielded your eyes from the brightness. Cursing as you pulled out a chair, your eyes slowly adjusting, pulling the chair over to the shelves and cabinets out of reach.   Now standing on the wooden chair, you grumbled. So much for being a good girlfriend, your legs ached for some reason, so every time you stood on your tippy toes, you winced.   Knocking down a bottle of vegetable oil into the sink, you were startled by such an incredibly loud noise. Your eyes widen and your legs tangle as you scramble, almost falling backwards. Grabbing onto the cabinet’s ledge, you breathed a sigh of relief as the chair stabilized.    This was a blessing in disguise, as the chocolate syrup came into view.   A feeling of triumph flooding you, you happily hummed gently pulling it out. Setting it down on the counter, you got down, moving the chair over to the right.   Standing back onto the chair, you placed a finger on your lips, slightly rubbing them. Your memory wasn’t doing you very well, forgetting where all the extra add-ons for baked goods were.   Your tongue stuck out to the side, swinging a random cabinet’s doors wide open. You had guessed correctly, sprinkles of various vivid colors stood idly, eye-catching colors on full display. A fine coat of dust had settled on the caps.   You coughed into your arm, now rummaging through the many sprinkles that Gojo would insist on buying because, “they were too cute to pass up.”      Sometimes, you swore the guy was a middle-aged Pinterest mom.   Yanking out a half opened bag of Jumbo Marshmallows, you did a small victory dance. Normally, Gojo would inhale the darned things, but he was asleep, and very soundly at that. Finally able to have your first taste of marshmallows in a while, you popped a couple in your mouth, practically melting.   So sweet.   Strolling over to the fridge while popping more marshmallows in your mouth, you lazily threw the bag onto the counter. Swinging the fridge door wide open, you shivered at the cold air, hauling a jug of milk out.   As usual, it was half full. Gojo would insist on eating all his cookies with milk, and if he didn’t have milk with his cookies, he would not eat them, stating that it was against his beliefs to even begin to stare at a cookie without a cold glass of milk at the side.   He was probably a 9 year old trapped in a 28 year olds body.   Humming a short tune, you poured the milk into a mug that Gojo had bought for you as a souvenir on a business trip. Painted onto it was a beautiful scene. Flourishing, vibrant flowers only half-heartedly concealing an undisturbed pond, deers frolicking around it. The mug was your favorite cup, and even Gojo, who most likely had the memory span of a goldfish when it came to unnecessary facts such as this one, knew it.   You flipped the chocolate syrup bottle upside down, smacking the top. Making a note to yourself to buy chocolate syrup the next time you went out. Strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in closer.   “Boo.”   Startled, you twirled around, expecting a rather friendly home invader, or something along the lines of that. Instead, you were greeted with Gojo Satoru’s face. Satoru’s eyebrow twitches, looking at you with an amused expression.   “Scared? We’re on the same boat.” he snickered, “woke up to some loud ass bang.” Gojo sleepy whispered into your ear, ruffling your hair with his large, calloused hands. His chin now resting on your right shoulder.     “I dropped the vegetable oil on accident.” You ignored the light, fluttering feeling when he touched you.     “Gosh, you’re a clumsy one aren’t you, sugar?”       Scoffing, you whip your head back to the hot chocolate. An unhealthy serving of chocolate syrup was splattered inside the mug, already blending with the milk.   “Don’t turn your back on me, pumpkin.” whining playfully, tugging at your left shoulder. There was something about such a playful, childish Gojo that you loved. You wished you got to see it more often.    You pretend to be annoyed, looking at him, now standing up without the support of your shoulder, in the eye now. A flicker of mischievousness over his face, he looks down at you.   “How thoughtful.” kissing your temple, he yawned. “Making hot chocolate for me? Oh hey- you even got the exact same amount of chocolate I like.”   “Satoru.” hands on your hips, you were bemused. How could one even like sugar this much?    “This is an ungodly amount of chocolate syrup, and can NOT be good for you.”   His warm gaze stared back, a slight curve to his lips now. You swear you could die a happy girl now, Gojo wasn’t sleepy very often, so when he was, you made sure to relish it. Usually, when you were lucky enough to be in the presence of a sleepy Gojo, he was always softer. Giving you small, coy smiles. Your retort didn’t even seem to register in his brain in the slightest.   “I want it, though.”   You sighed, facepalming.     “Ooooh, marshmallows!” suddenly bursting with energy he never exhibited before seeing the sugary treat, his long arm extended over to the bag, tugging at it to get it closer to him before finally shoving 3 or more into his mouth.   “Satoru!” you yank his hand back from the entrance of his mouth, able to save a few, albeit a bit ugly and smooshed, marshmallows.   “Wha?” he rubbed his eyes, chewing noisily on the marshmallows he was lucky enough to get into his mouth.   “Baby. We need those marshmallows, here, can you microwave a bowl of them? Save a few for later.”   He nodded obediently, tugging a bowl out of the “washed dishes” section of the sink. Wiping it down sloppily with a towel. He dug his hand into the marshmallow bag, throwing a few handfuls into the bowl before carefully placing the bowl into a microwave, sneaking a few more into his mouth before jabbing at a few buttons.    “There.” he gave you a crooked grin and a thumbs up, walking back over to you, placing warm fingers against your cheek, suddenly jumping back.   “Holy shit, babygirl, you’re cold.”   About to respond, you too realized how cold you were. Lightly shivering, your hands seemed to be blocks of ice.   “Babe, can you go get an extra sweater-”   Hands under your sweater (well, technically his) suddenly, his warm, big hands massaged your breasts. You yelped, the hot contact against your cold skin was electrifying. His thumbs, rubbing over your nipples lazily, sent even more shivers down your spine. Quietly moaning, you looked back at Gojo, who seemed to thoroughly savor every little sound you made.   “Like that, lil girl~?”   “S-Satoru! Not now… I’m making you s-something!”   “Hot cocoa doesn’t take a chef to make.” he placed kisses on your neck, lightly suckling on your bare skin.   “I-I know, but just… N-not now.” you stammered, he was now tweaking your nipples, gently pulling them. He didn’t seem to register the request though, but instead was drawing lazily  on your breast.   “That better, missy?” he questioned, watching you catch your breath and gulp. Resting his chin on your shoulder once more.   “Mmmmm.” you responded, thoroughly enjoying his warm touch. Closing your eyes, enjoying the mystifying feeling his hands always gave you.    Loudly, the microwave beeped. Suddenly jumping up from the loud occurrence, Gojo cursed under his breath and jogged over to the microwave, swinging the handle open.   “Great news, (Y/N). I didn’t burn the marshmallows!”   Grumbling under your breath, and wishing all hell to the microwave for disrupting such an intimate event, you nodded, giving him a few weak claps for his rather stupid achievement. Gesturing for him to bring the bowl over, you pulled out a spoon from the drawer beneath you.   As soon as Gojo placed the bowl on the counter, he zoomed back to where he had left off, grabbing one of your breasts and squeezing it. This time, he was massaging one of your shoulders.   Your breathing was heavier when he did this, Gojo noted, watching as you struggled to mix the chocolate syrup and milk together. He did this for a while, eyeing the cooling marshmallow.   He swiped up a dollop, wiping it down your neck. Letting out a gasp by the sudden warmth, you assumed it was Gojo’s mouth. To your surprise, it wasn’t.   He licked the cloud of fluff, before straight up placing his entire mouth on it, lightly sucking and licking your skin. Your panties were getting awfully wet.   “L-love, we n-need the fluff to a-add the finishing touch to t-the hot cocoa.” you would mutter, trying not to collapse from the pleasure.   “You getting wet?” now lightly nibbling on your skin, his hand left your breast, dunking his hand underneath the fabric of your panties. He sneered, realizing the puddle that had seeped itself into the material.   “Aw, you’re absolutely wet. Fuck am I saying?” he swirled his finger around your entrance, lightly dipping one of his fingers in before he took it out. Whimpering, your walls clenched around something that wasn’t there.   “Anyways, let's get back to the hot cocoa!” innocently licking his glistening finger, he looked at you.   ‘What? Y-you can’t do that to me-!”   “Isn’t that what you wanted?” he chirped back, smiling devilishly.   “That’s what I wanted before-”   “Hush up, slut.” he rubbed your head with one hand, the other, stroking your cheek.     You didn’t realize how hot you got when he called you a slut, whimpering, the hot cocoa long forgotten on the counter as you leaned into his chest.     “Aw, you’re so cute.” tugging on your cheeks softly, you look up at him, while he looked down. Even though you were his girlfriend, you didn’t really see his eyes often. They were a brilliant shade of aquamarine, flecks of a darker blue were also sprinkled amongst the sea of various shades of blue.   “You want something? You’re giving me those puppy eyes.” Still pulling at your cheeks, he stared down patiently, unable to hide the smile on his face.   “I hate when you tease me.” you blurt out, surprisingly coherent, even though Gojo was pinching your cheek. Another flicker of amusement on his face.   “That’s not how you ask for something you want.”   He stopped pinching your cheeks, now staring at you. You couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking about, his face was blank, eyes cloudy.   “Mmm, I’ll give you one last chance before you get punished. Now missy, what do you want?”   You tugged at the hem of his pants, still making eye contact.   “You can’t have that, sweetie.” he straightened you back up, so that you weren’t leaning on his chest any longer. “It’s way too early.”   “Then what was the point of teasing me?” you groaned, clasping your hands together and looking at him. “Please?” you were sure to have your eyelashes flutter.   He laughed, shaking his head. “Sorry, princess.”   You groaned, getting down onto the cold floor, getting onto your knees, looking at his pleasurably entertained face.   “...What about now?”    He chuckled, rubbing your head again. “No, baby. I’m just not in the mood, but I can make a recommendation that works with me. Although, you’re really cute when you’re on your knees for me.”   You nodded, nervously anticipating whatever he wanted to do.   You didn’t need to wait, though, he carried you over to the table, like a princess, unclothing you quickly. Throwing his sweater onto the floor once again, you felt your heart jump a little. A small pile of clothing consisting of the sweater, your panties, and a t-shirt was crumpled up on the floor.   He cupped your breasts, leaning over the table to look at them. His expression softened, placing delicate kisses on each breast, making you gasp a little.   “So cute.” whispering, rubbing your nipples once again.   Your hands found their home in Gojo’s hair, now clenching onto his snowy white locks. He grunted a little as you pushed his head further into your chest, effectively telling you to start suckling on the now slightly abused domes.    “Just a sec, (Y/N).” extending his impossibly long limbs to grab the marshmallow fluff bowl, his long fingers danced at the rim, then pulled it closer to his chest. Yanking the spoon out of the bowl, he spread the lukewarm fluff on your body, you weren’t expecting such warmth, and you let out a yelp, realizing what he was slathering onto you.   “Satoru! D-did you forget what I said e-earlier?”   “Nope, I just don’t care.” sadistically grinning, he ducked his head down, the space between your breasts and his face non existent. He had practically smooshed himself into your embrace, your arms around his head. He was good with his tongue, you had to admit, too good.   Goosebumps grew on your skin, no matter how many times you two fucked senseless, he still had such an effect on you. His tongue swirling around your nipple, fingers rubbing and teasing the other. You felt his hot breath against your skin, and you couldn’t help but think how good it felt.     Strands of hair tickled you as he began to noisily slurp, before coming back up again. Your breast was glistening with spit, few thin lines of marshmallow fluff left over. He licked them up, before scooping up a few dollops of marshmallow fluff onto you, looking hungrily at the attention-starved breast, before diving back down. Fingers now giving the spoiled nipple almost close to 0 action.     He licked the hard nipple a few more times before sucking onto it, as if he was a baby. I mean, he probably was. Afterall, he was a manchild. Regardless, you found yourself heavily breathing, hugging his head like it was the last thing you’d ever do. His teeth lightly nibbled, making you jump a little. Now biting onto it, you squealed.   He glanced up, before going back down, licking the sensitive bud. You felt a rush near your lower regions, a familiar warmth rushed to your cheeks.   “S-Satoru! I think I’m gonna-!”   You weren’t even going to finish the sentence, the white, hot liquid pooling out of you as soon as you uttered a few words. Gojo’s attention was now focused on you, before looking down.   “Woah, lil girl. That’s a large mess. I didn’t know your pussy needed any attention.” he directed his gaze towards your pussy, spreading the folds and softly examined it.   “How pretty.” he muttered, he flicked his thumb on your clit, making you moan loudly.   “FUCK!” you threw a hand over your mouth, he laughed, his breath tickling you.    “You’re really wet.”   Without any warning before hand, he dove in between your legs, beginning to noisily slurp at your folds, dipping his tongue into your entrance.   You began to practically scream louder, you were fuzzy, your body, your mind, everything. Unable to cover your moans, you began to grimace at the stares your neighbors would give you when you went out for the mail. Gojo would laugh, telling you that, “He was just trying to show the world you were his.” and not pay any mind, cursing him for being so skilled, you struggled to contain all the noises you were making.   You felt his tongue tease your entrance playfully, flicking your clit a few times for extra measure, you were now wildly thrashing, and you knew Gojo couldn’t wait to ridicule you over dinner.   About to straight up shove his head closer into you, his tongue finally stuck inside of you. Letting out a sigh of relief mixed with added pleasure, he skillfully lapped at your juices. Noisily slurping away at you, he glanced up.    You were trying to sit up, but were struggling as you did so. The waves of pleasure sent you crashing back down onto the table.   You felt him exhale through his nose, tickling you once again. He closed the little space between you and his face, as soon as he was in contact with your skin, you wrapped your legs around his back, trying to close the distance that wasn’t there.   Now, his tongue was reaching you in places you’d never think he would. Flush, hot skin was sweating against the table surface, but you paid no mind, promising yourself to wipe the top later. Hair strands practically glued to the sides of your head due to the sweat, you whined again, feeling yourself close to cumming.   You were about to speak again, warning Gojo, but you couldn’t. Before the words could even spill out of your mouth, you felt yourself burst.   Gojo, seemingly unaware, was still lapping at your walls. You looked at him, breathing heavily. His eyes widened, and you felt him stop licking for a while, before you saw him gulp and stand back up.   His eyes twinkled a little in the light, and you straightened, sitting on the table, your heart still beating rapidly.   “You never told me you were gonna cum.”   You turned your head to the side, about to retort, before you realized the empty bowl of marshmallow fluff.   “Satoru! I told you to not use it all!” (resposting because i think im shadowbanned, please interact if u saw this!)

[jadedxrealityw]

-Chapstick- Pansy Parkinson x Female Reader

    ☼-☪-☼

   Kody: the lesbians have risen

  Request: pansy x reader where they are friends & reader loves chapsticks very much because chapped lips also the taste and the smell are cute ?? and then she has different variants of it. Pans could smell it sometimes when she purposely gets closer, got curious one time and asked for it and she casually gave it. One time Pans asked what flavour was the one on her lips right now because it's different from the usual??? and reader was like see for yourself and then they ki- IM SO GAY FOR PANSY PARKINSON - 💐

  House: Slytherin

  Possible Triggers / Warnings: lesbian power couple baby, cursing, y/n being a bottom, making out. 

    ☼-☪-☼

   since day one you had been best friends with Pansy Parkinson. Even in your small little friend group that consisted of Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott, you just gravitated towards Pansy more. Maybe it was because you were both girls or the fact that you had met her first.

   throughout your school years you and Pansy were like a power duo. Some were scared, some wanted your title, and the rest despised you both. Even with all the popularity you weren’t mean or cude to people who didn’t deserve it. Kill them with kindness is what you’d always say.

   around your 6th year is when you enveloped your slight chapstick addiction. You had noticed your lips become more flaking and chapped as you grew up so over the summer when you visited america you bought a pack with a variety of different flavors. 

   Pansy made fun of you at first because of how quickly you had started to buy more and more until you had a collection. After all the teasing you two developed a sort of game you could say. Anytime Pansy could smell the chapstick on you she would try and guess what scent it was.

   at first it was cute and friendly, but out of nowhere she would grab your face and bring it close to hers so she could smell the chapstick. It would be so sudden and make your stomach twist in a way you had never felt before, especially when she would send you a wink after she backed away. 

   after a lot of thinking and ‘therapy’ sessions with Theo you had come to the conclusion that you had fell for your best friend. It was very cheesy, but it was true. Pansy Parkinson had stolen your heart and you terrified at the power she held over you.

    ☼-☪-☼

   7th year

   you were practically running towards the field, hoping the outfit you chose would keep you warm enough in the nippy weather. You did not want to be late to Draco and Blaises quidditch match against Gryffindor. Of course you cheered on your friends, who wouldn’t?

   you began to climb up the stairs to make your way into the stands. Once you make it to the top you gaze through the crowd and spot the familiar black haired female leaning back to look up at the sky. She looked very focused on something in the sky.

   Pansy was wearing a large black sweater with some kind of white t-shirt sticking out from the bottom with matching black pants and shoes. She looked in casual clothes- in anything really. You make your way through the crowd, pushing past a couple people while mumbling ‘excuse me’ and such.

   you take a seat next to Pansy who looks back down to face you “Thought you weren’t gonna show. You look nice by the way” she comments and you shake your head. You were wearing a black crop with matching pants and a oversized navy blue hoodie. 

   your stomach twist like many times before. “Thanks” you reply before suddenly realizing you were missing a friend “Where’s Theo?” you ask. Pansy lifts up her hand to point in front of her. You follow her finger until you spot the back of Theos head “He wanted to be closer to watch Blaise”

   you nod once before you heard Lee Jordan begin the announcements.

    ☼-☪-☼

   while watching a breeze blew past you and towards Pansy. The Slytherin girls nose scrunched up as she smelled something, something fruity? (because your gay duh) She turns to look at you, brown eyes narrowed. You felt her eyes on you and face her “What?-” 

   Pansy grabs your face with both of her hands. You could feel the cold metal of the rings she wore against your cheek. Pansy leans in close, her nose centimeters from your mouth. You could hear her sniff as your face began to feel hot. 

   she was so close. The smell of hrt minty breath from her gum she had been chewing made everything in your body flare up. It was only a second, but felt like hours before she pulled away “Your wearing strawberry” Pansy had a cocky smirk on her face as she spoke, her hands slowly falling from your face

   you blink mindlessly as you reach into the packet of your jacket. You pull out the tube of strawberry chapstick. Pansy’s smirk only grows wider “Knew it, what's my prize?” she asked. Your face twist a bit. A prize? She had never asked for one before.

   “What do you want?”

   “A Kiss”

   your mouth opens a bit to speak, but you choke on your words instead. Pansy lets out a chuckle and turns to face forward again “I’m only kidding”

    ☼-☪-☼

   you were walking alongside Pansy, Theo, Draco and Blaise. You were all leaving the quidditch field and head back to the common room. Slytherin had won and the team was going out for butterbeer at the three broomsticks. Draco and Blaise had opted out saying they wanted to celebrate with close friends.

   just you guys, how sweet.

   “So- did Y/n and Pans. I flew past you guys and for a brief second and i swore i saw you guys making out” Draco spoke making Blaise and Theo laugh. “You guys were what now? I knew you were close, but no that close damn” Draco adds were made the boys laugh even harder.

   you roll your eyes playfully and walk behind behind Draco. He doesn’t see you as you wack the back of his head “Ow!” he exclaimed. Pansy chuckles “We were not making out by the way. I was smelling her chapstick” she explains. The boys nod and silence consumes you all after that.

   that is until Theo speaks up “That’s still gay”

    ☼-☪-☼

   you all spent the night together, talking, goofing around, and drinking firewhiskey. It was a fun idea at the time, but you all got wasted more than you’d like to admit. Your E/c eyes open slowly and your met with skin? You lift your head up, you were laying on top of Pansy.

   Y/n.exe has stopped working

   she was wearing her black flannel pants as well as her matching sports bra. Your heart might have stopped right then and there. You look down at what you were wearing and noticed you only had your undergarments and Pansy’s sweater that she had worn at the game. 

   before having time to freak the hell out you heard the black haired girl mumble under you “morning” she mumbles, her eyes opening slowly. You give her a half smile before sitting up “Um- how did- how did i end up here?” you ask. Pansy uses her elbows to prop herself up.

   she pushes her bangs from her face. They had began to grow over her eyes, but refused to cut them after you said you liked them longer. “You got a bit tipsy so i brought you here to rest. As well as those three” she says and points to the floor. You raise a brow and crawl to the edge of the bed.

   on the floor was Blaise and Theo cuddling on the ground. Cute. Draco was laying next to Blaise curled up in a ball with a blanket over him. Also cute. “Damn, i guess you played mom for a bit huh?” you joke, sitting back down on the bed. 

   Pansy shrugs her shoulders “You could say that. Your hug things in your sleep, did you know that?”

   “I’m sorry what?”

    ☼-☪-☼

   later in the day you were in your own dorm room studying for an exam in charms you had the next day. While writing down a few notes you heard your door open. You place the quill down and turn in your chair to see Pansy at the door. 

   she had on a black t-shirt with a sheer long sleeve one underneath, black pants with a white dragon that stopped above her ankles and black socks with checkered vans. Pansy had a plate of food in each hand “Theo told me you hadn’t eaten lunch yet so i brought you some.”

   “You look cute by the way” she adds with a wink

   you smile lightly and pat the chair next to yours “I’m guessing you came to eat with me as well?” you ask and she nods, taking a seat. She places the plate of food in front of you and places her down as well. Pansy began to move your textbooks around as you reached into the pocket off your black jeans.

   you pulled out your new chapstick ‘fruit punch’ and took off the cap. You smear it on your bottom lip before popping the cap back on and into your pocket while rubbing both your lips together to apply it evenly. Pansy smells something fruity again and smiles lightly.

   except for this smelt different. Way different. Nothing you had worn before.

   Pansy looks at you as you grab a fork with a amused smirk “New chapstick?” she asked. You noticed her playful tone. Turning in your sea you face Pansy “Maybe, maybe not” you say vaguely, shrugging your shoulders. Pansy rolls her eyes and faces you too.

   like last time she reaches up and grabs your face, pulling it close to hers. You hear her sniff just like before, but this time her eyebrows furrow “What the fuck is that?” she asks, making you laugh quietly “Can’t figure it out?” you tease. Her brown eyes narrow into a glare “Shut up” she hisses.

   what a baby

   Pansy stays like that for a couple seconds before exhaling loudly “What the hell is it” she grumbles. A risky idea popped into your mind in an instant. It was dumb, but you were so tired of just being friends with her. You were willing to risk it all in one question.

   “See for yourself then”

   you couldn’t really remember much between the the couple seconds of silence. All you remember is Pansy’s lips on your feverishly. She leaned into kiss you deeper, making you almost fall out the chair. She was not taking it slow in the slightest.

   As Pansy’s mouth moves against yours she leans down and uses her hands to scoop up your thighs. She lifts you up and you wrap your arms around her waist tightly, making Pansy let out a muffled noise. You felt a hard surface hit your back and assumed Pansy had leant you against the wall.

   Pansy ran her tongue against your bottom lip. You open your mouth slightly for her and Pansy’s tongue slipped into your mouth instantly. You felt a cold piece of metal on your tongue that connected to hers. It took you a second to process what it was.

   she had a tongue piercing

   “You have a tongue piercing?” you ask between hot kisses. You feel her smirk against your lips as one hand traces circles on your exposed stomach. She pulls away for a moment “Yeah. Problem?” she questions, panting slightly. You shake your head quickly “Nope- it’s just really hot”

    ☼-☪-☼

   an hour later

   “You owe me ten galleons” Draco spoke.

   Blaise groans and reaches into his pocket to dig out the money and place it in his hands “Yeah, yeah whatever” he grumbles.

   Theo smiles happily “I’m so happy for them!”

   Draco nods slowly “I’m pretty sure the whole house heard them though”

    ☼-☪-☼

   Taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @sonbelleame @dracosathenaeum @pxroxide-prinxcesss 

    ☼-☪-☼

   Kody- lesbian things lesbian things. Anyways request are open, peace.

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Found (Outside the Screen) (CC!Dream x GN!Reader) Part 2

Request: That dream angst fuckin wrecked my heart..any chance for a part 2 with comfort(im not the og requester so if not thats fine its just OUGH my heart)

I have written this three times over because tumblr didn’t save it. THEN. Tumblr doesn’t show it to ANYONE unless they check my account. This happened to my Ranboo fic as well... I will honestly cry if no one sees this.

Once again. This is a completely fictitious story and version of Clay.

TW: Panic attacks, self deprecating thoughts,

"(Y/n)!"

His voice echoed through the house as you scrambled around corners to escape the possible wrath of your boyfriend. Or maybe even soon to be ex boyfriend.

Despite living in this house with him for a little over two years, it was beginning to feel like a maze. You couldn't tell which way was left and which way was right, your head spinning with panic as you gasped for breath.

He's gonna find you...

The house wasn't even that big, and quite an open concept, so you had no idea why you were finding it so confusing. All you knew at the moment was...

Get out.

Once your eyes landed on the door that lead out, you made a beeline towards it and flung it open. Maybe you should've known better than to attempt to run from the manhunt god...

The footsteps pounding against the floor not too far behind you startled you enough to jump outside and slam the door behind you in hopes of giving yourself enough time to run farther.

There were plenty of things failing to register in your mind as you ran down the empty sidewalks. Such as the poor choice (or lack) of shoes you were wearing, or even the heavy night rain pelting down on your shaking body.

Your lungs were burning.. But your brain had thrown itself so far into fight or flight mode that you had no care for anything around you, hardly blinking twice as the signs of unfamiliar street names flew past you.

Eventually, when you physically couldn't breathe any longer, you sat on a bench and took awhile to think. The consistent rain pelting down on your head was actually a decent grounder to help you snap yourself out of it... But that only caused more confusion and another wave of panic to wash over you.

Where... were you?

Doesn't matter. Don't go back.

Oh God... He hates you..

Why wouldn't he..?

He was too embarrassed to show you to his chat!

What did you do that was so embarrassing?

God.. What was so wrong with you that he stayed in his streaming room for days on end!?

Pulling your knees up to your chest, you choked back a few sobs, trying your best to keep what was left of your composure. Very quickly, however, you gave up on trying to hold yourself together and broke down, hiding your face in your knees.

Time seemed to pass by way too quickly but also way too slowly at the same time.. Like time itself was giving you the one finger salute. When you finally stopped crying, you leaned back against the back of the bench and gave a shaky sigh before you decided to attempt to think rationally again.

You had no clue where you were. Nothing looked familiar. What time is it? No clue, you don't have your... Your phone!

You quickly scrambled to your pocket to pull out the cellular device, and stared at the black screen for a few seconds. Anxiety was the reason for your hesitance as you stared into your reflection, frowning slightly. Without thinking twice, you pressed the button and the screen lit up with various arrays of colours.

78 Missed calls from Clay💚

2 Missed calls from George👓🇬🇧

7 Missed calls from Sapnap🔥

Was... He so mad that his friends were trying to yell at you too? You tilted your head slightly and scrolled through the other notifications on your lockscreen.

Twitter seemed to be losing their minds over your boyfriend's stream and wondering who the stranger was. Seeing the headlines flooded you with immeasurable guilt and you almost put your phone down again, if your phone didn't start buzzing.

You glanced down at the screen and say Clay was making call number 79... Man, he was persistent.. and he would probably continue to call until you answered...

Your finger hovered over the decline button, before slowly moving over and landing on the green one instead. "...Hello...?"

"(Y/n)...?" Had... He been crying...? "Oh my god! You're alive!" He gasped out with glee before giving a few sobs of... relief...?

"...You... Aren't... Mad?" You whispered very softly and hesitantly, your voice scratchy and sore from crying.

He sighed and there was a little bit of shuffling as well as a few male voices in the background. "No. Not in the slightest... Where are you? I want to apologize in person.. And when it doesn't sound like you're in a hurricane.."

You lifted your head up to look at the rain that was continuing to pelt down on you before looking around. "..I'm not sure.." You heard your partner echo your statement in question form as you looked for street signs through the rain. Glancing back at your phone, you saw the screen light up again, this time it was a warning label.

Your battery was almost dead...

"C-Clay.. My phone is going to die.." You murmured softly, your heart filling with dread as you turned down your brightness and closed any unnecessary apps.

There was a little bit of clattering and shuffling on the line as Clay hurriedly walked from the windows to the door, trying to see you from the home. "G-give me landmarks! Hurry!" He practically begged as you shot up from your bench, ignoring the burning soreness in your legs.

Spinning around quickly, you began listing off a few company buildings you saw, trying to shout over the rain and a few cars driving by. "Yeah-yeah! There's also that little sushi place beside the restaurant too.."

You heard the furious typing of his computer before another almost sob of relief. "You're on Rosewood Avenue... How the hell did you run that far? Okay, you're going to walk in the opposite direction of the sushi place until you reach a road called Miller Road, got that?" He waited for a verbal noise of agreement before continuing, "Once you get there, turn left and keep walking straight until you get to a steakhouse. I'll meet you half way, if you don't see me there, don't move unless you have to. Got it?" He asked firmly, with a small hint of desperation in his tone.

You rubbed your face as you mentally repeated the directions to yourself. "Yeah.. Yeah.. I got it." You began to walk along the sidewalks, your shoulders beginning to tremble from the water induced shivers trailing up and down your spine.

"..(Y/n)?"

"Yeah?"

"I lov-"

Your phone died..

Pulling the device away from your head, you pressed the buttons a few times before groaning and shoving it into your pockets as you began to walk.

Your mind was blurry but also hyper aware along the walk to the road where Clay told you to go. 'What was he going to say? If... He doesn't hate me... was he going to say- No.. no. He hadn't said that line in over a few months now.. No reason why he would say it now..' You mentally scolded yourself.

The rain didn't seem to be too keen on letting up as you walked through large rippling puddles. Your clothes were soaked, your hair completely drenched and you were pretty sure you were gonna need to buy a new phone with how much your current one was getting waterlogged..

You rose your arm to shield your face from the onslaught of water that a car had caused by driving through a large puddle before running your hand down your face.

Part of you was still a bit.. angry... at Clay... He had ignored you for so long and wanted nothing to do with you.. Then suddenly you spill hot coffee on yourself and then boom, you have the man more focused than when he has a good speed run seed. What about all those times you were begging him to come to bed, or at least eat dinner at the table with you? Did you only matter when you were in pain?

Biting your lip, you shook off the thought as you looked up again to see the steakhouse that you were directed to go to, the signs glowingly and people shuffling in and out through the doors...

Then there was another man, standing under a large black umbrella wearing a damp lime green hoodie...

Only you'd recognize that face anywhere where others wouldn't.. Standing in the street lights perfectly was your boyfriend, Clay.

Your heart trembled but also melted slightly upon seeing that he wasn't paying attention to his screen anymore. You. He was focused on finding you...

As you began to walk closer, you saw him lift his head and stare at you for a few seconds before dropping the umbrella and lunge forward to wrap you in a loving embrace. "I'm sorry.." Was the first thing he whispered, his voice almost as hoarse as yours. "I know.. that a simple apology will never excuse what I put you through... You cared for me, and even after a stupidly ignored you... You still didn't leave, or get angry. I don't deserve you, I know that, and you have every right to be upset, angry or whatever you're feeling right now.. Please, it doesn't matter how long it takes... Just let me make it up to you and let me prove myself worthy of your love again.."

Your lips parted in surprise as you stared at him, the streetlight poorly capturing his normal beauty, but still doing it well enough that you felt your heart soar. "Clay..." Your eyes traced his features, his puffy and reddened eyes and his cheeks stained with tear tracks, "You have a lot to work and make up for... I'm not going to forgive you immediately, but I'm not going to leave you.. We can work things out.. Together, okay?"

He eagerly nodded and gently held your face in his hands before pressing a light kiss to your forehead. "I'll break away from video editing and streaming for a while.. So I can focus on repairing things with you.."

You buried your face into the male's sweater, that was beginning to become soaked as well from the rain and you, and closed your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him.

"(Y/n)?"

"Mm..?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, Clay."