#in part this is because i wanted to give jane a chance to rest between all the asks

[averlym]

can i pwease get jane comforting cathy 🥺🥺

i think late night chats when you can't sleep / get too absorbed in work can be very soothing for the soul

[izzythehutt]

As horrible as Walt's parting words to Jesse in Ozymandias were, in some ways it seems like they would be psychologically freeing for him.

Walt giving him over to people who he clearly hired to kill him and telling Jesse, "oh, before these people torture you for information and then shoot you, I want you to know I also let your girlfriend die of an overdose" with zero additional context is such clear and unequivocal proof that Walt was always a soulless monster who never cared about him. Which like, we the audience know is not true, Walt is grief-stricken, blames Jesse for Hank's death (lol Walt actually it is 10000000% your fault and you're projecting but what else is new?) and this final parting shot is a big fat "I never loved you" shaped-lie and the kind of deeply personal knife twist you could only give someone you loved like family and felt betrayed by, but Jesse has zero reason to think that.

Jesse can't comprehend that Walt thought Jane was so bad for him it would be better if she died rather than drag him down into a heroin-fueled OD spiral with her. Maybe years down the line he would be able to understand that was the rationale for this repulsive act, but there's a very good chance he will never understand it, and this will just be one of the giant mysteries of their relationship that haunts him for the rest of his life.

In the moment, though, his cruelty is the ultimate bridge-burning severance. All "complication" and gray areas are gone. No more mixed feelings.

A lot of what makes the relationship so uniquely upsetting for him is never really knowing if Walt cares about him or not, because so much of their dynamic is built on lies and manipulation. And in the short-term, this removes the ambiguity! Mr. White really always was the devil in a family man, chemistry teacher skin suit! Even if Jesse is beating himself up for loving this monster and having such misplaced faith in him, at least he can now just hate the guy in peace.

(Though...was Jesse even thinking much about Walt in that five month period of servitude? I get the sense that in Granite State the two of them in their respective prisons are avoiding thinking about each other because they both blame one another for where they ended up.)

Then the finale happens and all that uncomplicated hate gets mucked up again, because hey, what is Walter White good for if not messing with your head?

Walt comes into the compound with a plan to kill everyone there, has Jesse brought into the room where he's going to set off his robot machine gun death trap, clear proof that Jesse was one of his intended victims (if he'd come there to liberate him he would have done it and then gone to the lab to let him out.) Then he sees Jesse, pathetic and in chains, and....tackles him to the floor and shields him with his body before setting off the trap, calmly watches as Jesse strangles his chief captor, then once everyone in the room except the two of them are dead he...slides Jesse his gun and tells him to shoot him. Which is Walter accepting that he deserves death at Jesse's hands, an apology, forgiveness and what he wants to happen all rolled into one. Jesse demands he admit this is what he wants, sees that Walt has been shot (meaning he will forever live with the knowledge Mr. White literally took a bullet for him) and refuses to indulge him in this final act of murder/suicide.

Then he follows Jesse out of the clubhouse and has the gall to SMILE AND NOD AT JESSE before he jumps into Todd's car and speeds off to freedom?? Like, really? How DARE you, Mr. White!

Everything about this is completely consistent with the selfish asshole that Jesse has known for the past two years....but also very clearly and unequivocal proof that he cares about Jesse and always did! There is zero reason for him to do this except for the history between them. This is the bizarre swan song of their demented criminal partnership.

And Jesse gets his second chance...solely because of Walter White.

Walt freed Jesse in the only way he possibly could that would keep him out of jail. He could have turned himself in, reported Jack and Co. and gotten them all arrested, Jesse included. Instead he perpetrated incredibly fucked up, science-adjacent violence to kill everyone who hurt his partner and died in the act. This is the Heisenberg equivalent of a giant-ass apology.

Which means that in the years that follow, Jesse will have to parse through everything that happened between them, reevaluate it all, live in that bizarre gray area when in many ways it would have been easier to just hate him. Not to say there won't be a part of him that does. But it won't be the only part.

Poor Jesse. He will forever have to live with the knowledge that Mr. White did, in fact, care about him, and the inevitable ambivalent and complicated feelings that come from that.

[hermesserpent-stuff]

heeyyyy so ive been really into the Void Remy entering the x-men evolution universe. so with talking to @golden-buddle I lept forward a bit to write evo!gambit and void Remy in a ticking time bomb, so spoilers for the future of that fic.

tw: vivisection, invasive medical procedures, kidnapping, blood, nonconsensual drug use, human experimentation

Gambit is often described as a cat. His fellow thieves constantly are comparing him to one. He is always getting into places that he is not supposed to be, and can get his paws on just about anything anyone asks for. Plus he has some pretty mean claws in the form of sparking fingertips. 

Now Gambit is not too particular about what he takes. And not too particular about who he takes it from. But he does make sure to follow the rules of the Guild. The Thieves Guild has been a to him since… Well… forever. Before they had taken him in he had been growing up on the streets of New Orleans. But he knows he had been born to some woman out in the bayou who tossed him aside when she saw his devil eyes. Without the Guild, he would just be another swamp rat.

The city of New Orleans is in his bones while the swamp rests in his bone marrow. He is just as comfortable in both places, able to crawl across ragged rooftops and dance between the branches of the trees that suckle at the water of the bayou. He knows how to slink amongst the hidden dangers of the bayou. But of course the city is not super safe either with shady characters tucked into each shadow and giving the Thieves Guild space to thrive. 

Gambit likes being a thief; he is good at it and he can get just about anything he wants. There were some downsides in his day-to-day life that kept him from doing everything that he wanted. His reputation on the streets, which consisted mainly of admiration, hatred, or a mixture of the two depending on how much the person knew and whether or not he had stolen from them. His reputation and status means that people sometimes tail him or try to fight him. 

Being part of the Thieves Guild for so long also means he never had a chance to go to school. He knows what he needed to know to survive, like how to calculate numbers and evaluate things by sight. He could also read and write as well as any other adult, despite being seventeen, and could do better than most at the Guild to keep a clean ledger. Or as clean as a ledger gets in a place full of thieves. 

Gambit does not necessarily wish that he had gone to a traditional school.  But he might have missed a few details along the way, having not participated in the regular education system. While other kids had been learning to dissect frogs and how to do long division, he had been learning to pick pockets and locks, and how to sneak away with the biggest loot possible. He does kind of wish he had a little help with some of the bigger words he stumbles across in his beloved romance novels though. Jane Austin was a particular lady about her words. 

His adoptive father is… well it is hard to describe the relationship really. Gambit is thankful to have been taken off the streets and removed from the angry hands of those who called him the White Devil due to his eyes. But he knows his adopted father mostly took him in because of Gambit’s small hands and his ability to sneak into places that had smaller entrances. Much like many of the other kids in the Guild. Then, when his powers manifested, his adoptive had found even more use for him. Gambit is not entirely sure how to feel about that. 

Yeah, he likes being useful to the Guild, and being able to earn the right to stay in it, so as to not be alone with dealing with all the enemies he has surely made over the years. However, he is fully aware of the lack of love between his adoptive father and himself. They used each other, and no feelings were there. Not really.

If Gambit got captured, his adoptive father would only seek his return because his skills and powers were valuable. And if trying to get him back cost too much; outweighing the value of his skills and use as a thief to the Guild…

Well…

Gambit  just hopes that that day doesn't come.

He walks down the street looking at the hazy sky. It is hard to sess with all the lights on around him. New Orleans twinkles brightly around him. It is also hard to hear anything other that the lively beat of the street. Music and people fill up every nook and cranny present in the air. Thats alright with him. Theres not much up in the sky for Gambit and the sounds of his home city are a comfort. He would hate to permanently lose it. Or have gone without it. Gambit is not sure who he would be without Louisiana flowing through his veins and New Orleans pulsating through his heart.

Just another swamp rat he supposes. 

He slides into an alley and pulls himself onto a nearby roof. He relaxes up on the well worn sloped roof that is still a little slick from the rainfall t this morning. He looks down at the streets, the night alive with people. He stares at the crowd mind already registering who would be the easiest to fleec and who had their hands tightly wound around their wallets. 

And who is likely to get a little looser with their hands if they just had enough to drink. He shakes off the final thought. He hates dealing with drunkards. They always seemed to get a little too personal with him. Too… grabby. 

His thoughts move on as he intently stares at the heavy crowds and plays a game with himself of trying to spot his fellow Guild members. He is pretty good at it, able to spot most of them in a crowd, even though he is not supposed to be able to. They were supposed to blend in. As much as any one can blend in inside of a city like New Orleans, where it feels like everything is always just a bit to the left side of strange. 

Gambit is lost in thought and does not sense when someone else comes onto the roof like he normally would. He does however, notice the small, but human, bump come from behind him on the rooftop. Without turning around and looking to see who it is, he leaps. He is dashing through the street before he has time to really think about it. The Thieves Guild has lots and lots of enemies. So he does not need to know who is chasing him until he has a better vantage point on them where he could see them, and they could not see him. 

The pursuer is following. Gambit knows that he is following. There's a sound of people being pushed out of the way in the crowd behind him. It is more than a little familiar to him. People yelling because they are shoved out of the way because someone else was trying to get at a thief who just stole out of their pockets. It is a noise that a thief has to become familiar with if they want to fleece people in crowds. He keeps moving. Not wanting to be caught as he is not sure who is trying to catch him. Could be anybody. His adoptive father and the Theives Guild made lots of enemies; both within Lousiana and beyond. 

He sort of hopes it is from within the state because the beyond option… that makes it more likely to be an assassination attempt. 

Gambit takes a breath and keeps going. 

But they keep following.

And then…

They stop.

Or he gets away.

It is one of the two and Gambit is not too sure which it is. He decides it might be a good idea to head back to the Thieves Guild's main house and wrap up his nightly stroll there.  He walks on the balls of his feet, light and quick, ready for trouble as he weaves through the crowd. Each step is sure, like a cat prancing along a windowsill to reatch their favorite spot of sun. 

Then there's a prick of something on his neck as the alleyway that leads towards the secret entrance to his Guild’s home, and Gambit feels suddenly very sick. 

Something is wrong.

Something's horribly, horribly wrong.

His powers flare as he rips whatever it is out of his neck; lighting it up with kinetic energy and makes it explode, as he hurls it torwards where the angle of entry suggests that it had come from. There is somebody who dodges, their hand still holding a gun. They are trying to blend in as a tourist. Their face is too set, to be a tourist; roaming the streets and taking in the awe of New Orleans. No, no, this is someone who's come after Gambit. Specifically. For some reason. 

The world starts to blur.

They hit him with something. Something is now inside of him, making him break down, making him fall down. He pulls out his deck and releases more kinetic energy. But it is weak and he cannot aim with his vision swimming violently. Soon it is difficult to even light charges. He finds himself falling, unwillingly, heartbreakingly, down. He is asleep as his head slams against the ground. 

--+

Remy hisses low and deep as they tie him down once more to steal more of his blood and do god knows what else to him. They pump him full of sedatives and he finds himself going limp.

“Well need to get a sample of blood without all these drugs blocking his system. Does the other one fight this much?”

Other one? They are torturing someone else. He lets out a weak snarl at the thought while his head is restrained and spacers are slipped into the back of his jaw to keep him from being able to bite down. They press something wet and slimy over his upper and lower teeth and hold it in place with some sort of plastic mold.

“Not as much hissing and more scratching over biting. His teeth are more normal. Despite their DNA being practically clones of each other.”

“Hmm. It will be good to have both dental impressions to compare the two.”

Remy stills his sluggish movements, trying to hear more. The ‘scientists’ take note.

“Hmm, thats interesting. Normally he is struggling until he passes out.”

A hand touches his face and a light scans his eyes. Remy huffs and scrunches his nose slightly. 

“So you’re interested in subject 0465? He is very similar to you. Maybe you've been cloned. Wouldn't that be fascinating…?”

Remy lets out as much of a hiss as he can with his maw forced open wide and spit slowly building around his tongue. He is forced to swallow and stop hissing for a moment. The scientist above his head looks over to the other one.

“Put in a request with upper levels, I want to test the two of them together. Limiting drugs in both. And maybe a pane of glass between the two test subjects.”

Remy finds himself slipping into a hazy miserable sleep. 

When he wakes up he is in another blank cell a fancy collar on his neck that has needles that push a constant drip of drugs into his blood. This one is a little different from some of the others. Not a testing room because there are no objects for him to pick up and light up. There is the normal glass the scientist love to hide behind and scratch things down on notebooks in place. But there is a second pane of glass dividing the room exactly in half. Someone is crumpled up on the other side, breathing deep and slow in a way that suggests sleep, but that could be faked. The person looks… small and thin; he is dressed in the same white itchy uniform. And same neck device as him. 

Remy slowly moves to the glass, drugs making him stumble. He sits down next to it and pulls his hair out of the loose braid that the ‘scientists’ let him keep. He shakily rebraids as he starts humming, eyes closing easily. It is a song he learned in the Void. He has no true lullabies, as Blade had been raised without lullabies, and Remy had been born in the void as far as he could tell. He hopes that music will make him seem more friendly. He would hate to scare a child more than this place likely already had.

“Pretty tune, monsieur.”

Remy glances at the kid and both flinch back as matching eyes stare at each other. 

“Hoo boy, now that's a mirror.”

Remy mumbles, hand going up on the glass. The kid slowly puts his hand on the glass over his.

“Mutant?”

The kid asks and Remy gives a tilted grin.

“Oui. Got eyes and kinetic explosions. And from what I heard from the tatailles, you got them too. I am Remy.

The kid’s eyes go wide as saucers and then narrow.

“They be makin’ you say this. You're another experiment. Another test!”

The kid snarls, but it lacks the bite of a feral or a vampire. Remy hates the distress of the little fledgling and croons softly. 

“Ah, petit, non. I am not another test; not willingly.”

He pulls out the hair band, mourning the loss for a moment. He lights it up and flicks it away as it glows pink and explodes.

Then his collar is alight with electricity and more drugs are dumped into his bloodstream. He screeches and hisses, curling in on himself and clawing at his own throat. He pants as the electricity dies down.

“Monsieur!! Monsieur!”

The poor fledging calls out, voice rippling with panic. Remy pushes himself back up and coughs. The room spins and he knows he has a limited amount of conscious time left. 

“Sorry, fledglin’. I'm passin’ out. I'm okay. Not your fault. All mine…”

And then it goes dark again. 

--+

Gambit paces his cell that he had been snatched from New Orleans. Seven steps one way. Spin. Seven steps the other way. A tiny cell that had started crawling into his dreams instead of the wonderful spices, lights, smells, and streets of his home. This place, this horrid place is run by some group saying they are Hydra and they seem obsessed with him and his blood. Well his everything really. 

He had been alone here, shoved full of needles and forced to display his powers over and over. He had tried to escape and had been knocked out each and every time and woke with worse and more invasive procedures. 

Then… Then he had met Remy. Or just glimpsed the man really. Someone who looked so much like him, but older and with a slightly different bone structure. He wants to meet Remy again. If only to not be alone anymore. Remy had been the first smile and friendly voice. The first voice that sounded anything like home. 

Home! Oh, how his heart weeps for beignets and jazz. He knows his adoptive father will not come for him here. The gear that this organization has is far too above the Theives Guild pay grade. He stops pacing and flops onto the stupid cot that is harder than a rock. He refuses to cry and sob, but a few silent tears do sneak out as he curls up on the bed. 

When Gambit wakes the next day he is in a new room with so many drug in his stystem that he thinks he might throw up if he moves. A hand is gently scratching and petting his hair and it calms him. The same singing voice that had stirred him once before is filling the room now.

“Remmmy?”

His mouth slurs heavily. A bright friendly chirp noise greets him. The noise is strange and Gambit blinks slowly up at the other mutant. He presses into the friendly touch that he had gone without for so long. Gambit shifts slowly to curl into Remy who gently moves his hands, mouth making noises that are just to the left of human. Gambit settles into a hazy calm as the drugs slowly start to fade from his system. Remy does nothing more threatening that shifting his weight slightly and petting Gambit's head, so Gambit decides that the man is trustworthy enough for now. As he regains some control over his limbs he shifts to be sitting up, shoulder to shoulder with Remy as they both lean against a wall. The room is blank aside from the peeping window for the scientists and the tray full of items that they normally told Gambit he had to explode. 

The older mutant still has an arm around his shoulders. Gambit pulls his knees up and rests his face on his knees.

“What do they want from us?”

Gambit murmurs. 

“Im not sure. I think it has to do with having similar powers? Or maybe our type of power… Desole petit.”

A popping whistle and Gambit blinks.

“Are you from New Orleans?”

“Me? Non. Remy from… nowhere. Nowhere I can talk about here. Real desert-like place though. Not a good place for raisin’ fledglin’s. My sire did it anyways.”

Remy says with a sigh. Gambit likes the sound of Remy’s voice. It sounds like home. And he would like to hear more.

“Tell me about your ‘sire’?”

He asks softly as his body keeps fighting the drugs that make him so drowsy. Remy hums and pulls Gambit a little closer. 

“Oui. My Papa is a strong man. He saved me from tatailles. He knew how to hunt and taught me as best he could.”

Remy rambles on, the accent warm to Gambit’s ears. There is also such an outpouring of love in the man’s voice. It must be nice to have a loving adoptive father.

“Mais, Remy has talked too much; I bore you, petit.”

The older mutant pauses and Gambit straightens from his comfortable slump as he blinks himself into looking alert.

“Non! Non. Its nice. I dont-” He hates to admit any weakness; terrified that it will be used against him because on the streets he knows that would be on the streets. “We might not meet for a long time if they don't want us to.”

He points to the window using his jaw. Remy tightens the loose side hug and nuzzles his hair.

“Alright, fledglin’. Remy keep talkin’. Next time, you be the talker, non?”

“Oui.”

--

Gambit holds onto the memories of his home and of the gentle words and warmth from Remy while he is strapped down to a table and his blood is drawing from needles in his arms, or he is forced to charge and discharge larger and larger objects. The scientists wear him out and dump him in the lifeless room, feeding him food that makes his horror and sadness all the worse. He wants to see the man again. 

He currently is doing a handstand with one hand in the air as he waits to see what the scientists want to do with him next, boredom nibbling at him. Normally, this is where he would get out a deck of cards and practice card tricks, or Solitare. But here he has nothing. He had tried asking a guard for a deck, but quickly learned that trying to talk to any guards is an action that leads to shock. So he had slowly stopped speaking aside from the questions they demanded out of him. And they shock him if he tries to refuse to answer the question. Some of them were horribly invasive. Questions that he barely wanted to answer for doctors on the rare instances of him getting checkups. 

He kicks his legs back down and shifts into a comfortable split.

“Subject 0465.”

His number. His evil sick number that is not him and he hates that he has to respond to it. Gambit lifts up his chin and narrows his eyes the door.

“Oui?”

They hated him speaking French. Apparently, most of the scientists here only knew English, German, and Spanish and they would complain about having to translate his responses or simply shock him till he re-responded in English. So naturally, he responds in french as frequently as feels natural. There is a huff of anger on the other side of the door and he draws his legs in from the split.

“Yeah, watchu want?”

He states and cracks his back. 

“If you dont give us any problems and run the obstacle course with no complaints, we will let you see subject 0464. Referred to you as Remy.”

He immediately straightens at the idea. Gambit hates how eager he is to get a friendly face that will not stab him full of needles and force him to do tasks. 

“Gambit will comply.”

He says and stands gracefully. He holds out his arms and lets them put cuffs on him without complaint. They take him to a new room he had not seen before. It has some sort of agility course set up. A rock wall that leads to a balance beam, monkey bars, a rope swing, and then a part of the course that is just poles. The scientist explains to the fidgeting seventeen-year-old that they want him to go through the course with no powers and no touching the floor. Fine with Gambit. He may have lost some of his muscle strength but he knows he will be fine. This could be no harder than racing along the rain-slick rooftops trying to get away with a huge score while the Assassins Guild or Rippers or some one else chased him down.  

He notes the timer but throws the thought away. A timer is not important to him right now. The cuffs are removed and he stretches his arms out and leans side to side. This is the longest time that he had been allowed to keep a clear hand and he kind of loves that his brain is able to spin like it always had. He shakes out his legs and then a start noise is played.

Gambit hauls himself up the rock wall, eyes dancing up the wall to plan out the best path heavenwards. He rolls a little and then steadies himself on the beam. Swinging up onto his feet, he practically dances across the balance beam. He feels excited to be doing something familiar, something fun. He cartwheels off the end of the beam, using the momentum to flip through the air and right himself as he grabs the rope. He swings over to the strange poles. 

It seems like each is placed slightly further away from the last. There is enough room on the top of each for him to crouch and fit his feet and the heels of his hands. He crouches as he studies the course, the tip of his tongue sticking out slightly. He could make most of the jumps easily, and if he keeps up the momentum the last two should be fine. He grins impishly, stands up, and thrusts himself forwards. Gambit flies across the poles and lands on the final one with a grin. He slips down the pole and bounces a little. 

The scientists are busy jotting things down like the time from the paused timer. Gambit takes advantage of their business and hops up on the balance beam again. He likes the feel of it. Like the ridge of a gable roof on the ledge of a building. He bends backwards and kicks his feet over his head. He hums happily to himself as he messes around on the beam, brain focused on the cartwheels and the pleasant challenge of not falling off. He overhears a bit of conversation between the Hydra ‘scientists’.

“Balance beam. Interesting. Subject 0464 was more attracted to the poles.”

So the other mutant had done the course too? Had… had they promised the same thing to him? A visitation if he did not resist? He kind of likes the idea of Remy wanting to see him. He smiles to himself and flips off of the beam and lands on his feet. 

“Alright subject 0465, time to go.”

Gambit walks over a little reluctantly but holds out his arms to be cuffed again. He is lead to another room. They undo his cuffs and shove him in. He blinks and sees Remy sitting on the floor against a wall. The adult looks up from staring at his hands and grins brightly at Gambit. But one of Remy’s eyes is covered in a white bandage. His left eye… 

“Petit fledglin’! Good to see you.”

Remy stays seated but opens his arms. They shake a little. The teenage part of Gambit rebels at the thought of just getting a hug. But another part of him that had not had a friendly touch since there last meeting screams to just accept it. He cuts a middle ground and settles on Remy’s right side where the other can see him. He leans into the side-hug that Remy has adjusted his arms to give. 

“Ooh, you lookin’ better mon petit.”

Remy slurs and gives a chirpy whistle. Gambit imitates the sound and Remy laughs.

“Aww, fledglin’ is happy to see moi.”

He nuzzles the side of Gambit’s head. 

“Those whistles mean things?”

Gambit asks, not pushing away the friendly nuzzle. Remy hums and Gambit can tell that the man is likely having a hard time thinking with all the drugs in his system. And despite that, it seems that Remy’s instinct is to be nice and care about him. 

“Oui. It's how my papa and I talked. Mm. Remy teach you when the room stop dancin’. Sorry, not much for talkin’. Diables took samples from my eye. No fun.”

He sighs sadly and Gambit winces. 

“Desole.”

“Mm. Non, fledglin’. You never say sorry for them.”

Remy tightens his grip and nuzzles a little bit more. Gambit pats his leg and then decides to speak.

“Seems it's my turn to talk the whole time, non?”

Remy laughs airly, resting his head against Gambit’s. 

“It’d be nice.”

“Mais, I was born in the swamp but my adoptive father picked me up after I got dumped on the streets of New Orleans. That's when I learned to be a thief. Gambit be a good thief. One of the best in the Guild.”

He slowly speaks, dancing around anything that Hydra cannot be allowed to know. Remy hums and gives different whistles and chirps during the talks and eventually falls asleep. Gambit settles in to rest beside him. 

--+

Remy stretches his arms forwards. He still has his left eye covered and he has a bone-deep hurt. They had taken some of his marrow and he still hurts. They are breaking him to bits.

“Subject 0464. Prepare to exit. You will be going through the obstacle course. Offer no resistance and you will be allowed to see subject 0465.”

Gambit. He hums and gracefully stands. 

“Alright.”

His movements are slow due to his pain. His time on the course is absolutely awful. As the scientist jot things down, he clambers up the tallest pole and balances on the top. He breathes deeply and hisses. Having lost vision from one of his eyes had made it harder to be sure of his jumps and his balance. He had managed, but he hates it. He wants… well he wants Blade. But honestly, he would love to see this universe’s Creed and Logan. He bites his lip and forces away the keening noise. He has a fledgling to look after until he finds a way to escape or they find him. It will be okay. He would make sure of it.

It is a little weird to run into this universe's version of himself. He had never run into any other Remys or Gambits in the void. He has a little bit of jealousy that Gambit actually has clear memories of Louisiana. But the emotion is easy to dump at the thought of the hurting fledgling. Gambit is stuck here just like he is, and from how the little one talked it does not seem that there was much in the way of love for the fledgling back in that city. Remy swings his legs down and sits on the top of the pole. He sighs and scrunches his nose. His bones ache.

“Alright subject 0464. Let's go.”

He slides down and stumbles a little bit as his body protests. He straightens and lets his hands get cuffed. As the walk the Hydra agent huffs and tugs at him complaining about his slowness. One of the scientists pipes up that perhaps they should wait to take his plasma in a few days rather than a few hours. Remy swallows and scrunches his nose.

He stumbles into the room and Gambit is there juggling the little wooden balls they had them explode. The scientists interrupt before Remy can say anything.

“Both of you take a ball and charge it. Compare your energies.”

Remy blinks and realizes that he has never seen the kid use his powers. Remy slowly sits down against the wall and Gambit tosses him a ball, eyes alight with worry. A whistle comes his way, asking about how he is. Remy grins at the noise and croons to his fledgling. He is well enough. He lights up the ball and shows it to Gambit who tilts his head and scrunches his nose.

“Pink?”

“Got a problem with it, mon fledglin’?”

Remy jokes, throwing the ball up and forwards so it explodes a good ways away from them both. Gambit hums.

“Non. It's just different. I had thought I misremembered.”

Gambit grins and lights up his ball. It is a fiery-looking orange and it makes a slightly louder pop when it explodes.

“Mm, interestin’. Not as pretty as a card.”

Remy sighs. Gambit hums his agreement and slowly shifts closer. Remy recognizes that reaching out now might spook the child. So he stays still. Gambit shifts to slowly lay across Remy’s legs, slowly wrapping his arms around Remy’s chest. The kid rests his head on his shoulder. Remy slowly raises his arms and wraps them around Gambit who hides his face. 

Wet tears begin to soak his shirt and Remy croons softly. He tugs gently on Gambit’s legs so that he is cradling the kid, nuzzling the brown hair. He moves his hands slowly and sings low and calm. Gambit continues to cry. Remy notices the bandages around Gambit’s neck and can see new ones wrapping the entirety of both of Gambit’s arms. Remy forces down a hissing snarl, just trying to be a stable rock for the kid.

“The sorrow of the Elves is they live beyond their time. The tree of swords and jewels waits for me. Until the world forgets them, saving tales and rhymes. When shall I hang-. When shall I hang my own upon the tree?” 

The song is one that he had found on a random cassette that he unburried from a pile of rubble. The softness had attacted him even though he could never know its title. And the gentleness of the tune makes it a easy lullaby to sing softly to the crying teen who clings all the tighter.

“The sorrow of the Elves is that all they love must die. The tree of swords and jewels waits for me. Time withers all about them, yet the Elves it passes by. When shall I hang-. When shall I hang my own upon the tree?”

He gently breathes and tightens his own grip, nuzzling the fledgling.

“I'm alive. You're alive. It's okay right now.”

He whispers, the words familiar and dry on his tongue like the desert static of the void they were born in. He then slips back into the tune. Gambit slowly relaxes. And then the poor teenager falls asleep. Remy’s heart aches for him. The kid had a life beyond these walls that he had been stolen from. Even if the teen had no love for his adoptive father, Gambit clearly loved New Orleans and Louisiana. Remy had never had a place he loved. Sure he loves his roost, but that is because Blade is there. And lord does he miss Blade. If Gambit misses his city like Remy misses his sire despite being stuck in this other universe for so long, the kid must be hurting worse because it is so recent for Gambit. 

He presses a kiss to the poor kid’s brow. 

--

Gambit grins at Remy when he spots the older mutant in the obstacle course room. Remy’s eye is no longer covered and Gambit had seen Remy slowly recover over their semi-frequent visits. He whistles out the noise Remy had taught him means friendly hello. Remy lights up like one of Gambit’s cards and whistles the same noise back. Gambit ignores the growls from the guards who yank harshly on his cuffs as they take them off. Gambit immediately bolts towards Remy and only halts when the scientists yell at him and threaten him with a shock. Remy shoots an apologetic smile towards him. 

Both are instructed to walk to the start of the course and then are told they will be running one by one for comparison. Remy whistles and gestures for Gambit to go first. Gambit notices that Remy is keeping half an eye on the guards without directly staring at them. After cracking his back and shaking out his wrists, Gambit is ready to go. Honestly, he wants to show off a little. He launches himself up the wall and cartwheels across the beam. He launches himself at the rope and the leapfrogs from pole to pole. He slides down and does a handspring. There is clapping and Gambit grins and bows to Remy.

“Ah! Thank you mon ami!!”

He sings out glowing at the claps. He can feel the edge of desperation his brain, desperate for smiles and praise. He sidles up to Remy and pokes at his chest.

“Try and beat that old man!”

He smiles, feeling his energy flick through his body. Remy hums and clicks his tongue.

“Ah, Remy will do more than try, petit fledglin’.”

He says with a sharp smile and a flick to Gambit’s nose. Gambit makes a noise of mock offense as Remy shifts to stand at the front of the course. The teen finds himself whistling softly as Remy dances across the course. A lot of the moves are familiar to him, like a mirror that is just a little wrong. But it is silent, like a thief should be. When Remy finishes, Gambit lets out a cheer and the adult grins and trots back up to him. While the scientists record the results, Remy tugs on Gambit to clamber all over the course. Gambit shows off his ability to do back bends on the balance beams. Remy copies the move. Remy then flips off the balance beam and Gambit imitates the move. They do this all over the course, with one displaying a move while the other copies it. Gambit feels his muscles stretch and warm as he moves. Remy moves with as much grace as he does though it echoes more of a fox with elements of a cat where Gambit might be a bit more cat like. 

Gambit decides to start a new game. He taps Remy’s nose and cackles as he yells out tag and dashes away. 

“Ohhhh mon fledglin’ you dont know what monster youve awoken.”

Gambit cackles and dodges, shimmying up the wall to avoid Remy. They play this new game eagerly, chasing eachother back and forth along the equipment. A hind part of Gambit’s mind wonders why they are not stopping them. But he leaves it alone and decides to just enjoy the most fun that he has had in weeks. 

--+ 

Remy slowly runs his hand over the bandages on his chest, mind blank. They had cut him open. Sliced an ugly Y into his flesh. Two long cuts that stretched from his shoulder that meet at the top of his sternum and a third cut that drags down from that point to just below his navel. They had kept him awake during the… vivisection. They gave him pain medications and sedatives to keep him from squirming. Remy had kept his eyes closed and focused on words to a variety of songs and books to get his mind away. Far far away. He had accidentally blown up a few of the tools and gotten shocks 

But now he is lying on his cot in the corner, not sure what to do with himself. He had ended up keening to himself and blowing up the spare blanket accidentally. Now he is just focusing on keeping the charges in. 

A day passes like this. Then a second. The scientists try to stir him, shocking him when he makes no reply and simply having guards drag him out. They take more of his blood and put him into the obstacle course room. He simply sits down in front of the rock wall and keens low. He hurts too much to move. To think. They shock him and he slowly tries to climb the rock wall. He falls off several times and he accidentally lights up the wall while near the top. He lets out a shriek and yanks it back, arms shaking from the sheer amount he is trying to bring back in. Remy manages it and falls backwards at the top. Then he slips up again, the charge lighting up the rock wall and slowly spreading down to the floor. Bright pink sparkles as it starts to climb the walls of the room and the scientists begin to yell. They try shocking him to get him to comply, to get him to pull back the charge. 

He wants to. He tries too. But it all hurts. His brain spins.

“REMY!”

His eyes snap open at the fledgling’s voice. They brought his fledgling here?? Into danger?? 

Remy lets out a shrill whistle that means that he wants Gambit to flee.

“I'm not leaving Remy.”

Gambit says with all the determination and snark of a teenager. The kid quickly climbs the wall despite his still bound hands and settles on the glowing platform next to him. The kid shifts awkwardly and then whistle-chirps. One asking about touch that Remy had used fairly often with the fledgling. He registers the fearful look on the little one's face and realizes that if this place blows his little fledgling will blow up with it.

“Desole. I can't bring it back in.”

He whispers and Gambit's eyes are full of determination.

“Maybe we both try?”

A hand grabs one of his and the other touches the the glowing platform. Remy leans into Gambit who nudges him with his head. Remy slowly nuzzles while pulling the chargeback. A shared wince tells him that Gambit is also able to pull it in. The glow fades and Remy feels like a puppet with its strings cut. He slumps a little and Gambit shivers.

Aww, poor cold fledgling. Remy drowsily tugs the little one closer, laying down and curling around the fledgling. He nuzzles and makes chirps and whistles. 

“Frère aîné. It's alright. Im alright and you… we’re both alive.”

The fledgling clings, fingers winding around the horrible material that his uniform is made of. Remy breathes deeply, nuzzling. He gently sings and whistles to the fledgling that just melts against him.  

“Oh, what did they do to you frère…”

Gambit whispers fingers slowly moving the uniform to the side and touching the bandages. 

“Desole. Remy can't keep you safe. He want to. He want to real real bad. But Remy can't.”

Remy admits, crying. 

“It's okay. Gambit will be okay. You help so much already.”

Gambit whispers back pressing in tight. That night they put the two of them in one cell. Something about being able to discharge the blasts of each other or something. Remy does not care about the why. He just cares that he now has the ability to keep Gambit warm while they sleep and be there for the fledgling so much more. 

Remy nuzzles Gambit’s hair giving friendly chuffs and churrs. Gambit imitates the noises back to him. They curl into eachother and fall asleep. A nightmare startles him awake. He slowly pulls Gambit closer as he calms down from the nightmare. His chest is screaming in pain from the deep cuts. The collar slowly releases cold cold drugs into his system, numbing him from the neck down. The teenager shifts and wipes at Remy’s eyes. 

“Desole.”

Gambit whispers. Remy nuzzles his hair and sighs.

“Thank you, mon petit fledgling.”

He presses a kiss to Gambit’s scalp and slowly falls asleep. 

--

Gambit grins as he shows off a few tricks on the newly added monkey bars while Remy relaxes on one of the poles. 

“Good!”

Remy sings out and Gambit grins. He hooks his legs through the bars and hangs upside down. He stretches and shifts his weight easily. Remy is so free with his praise and is always kind to him. Sure, his adoptive father had praised his abilities. But there was always a tinge of demand and expectation that went along with that praise. Expectation to repay the kindness of the Guild… And Remy seems to have none of that expectation. Gambit pulls himself up and gives a bright chirp. Remy laughs and chirps back. He shifts and hops onto the pole close to Remy.

“Are you feeling up to tag?”

Remy asks and Gambit bites his lip.

“Your chest is still healing…”

He whispers back and Remy scrunches his nose.

“Fledglings need fun. And the drugs help with the pain.”

Remy smiles and Gambit puffs his cheeks.

“Why do you call me that, frère aîné?”

He asks, leaning forwards a little bit. Remy sighs airily, glancing to the scientists and guards. Then, Remy huffs irritably and crosses his arms.

“Lemme tell you a long story, petit. I don't be carin’ no more how they gonna take it. My Papa is… was a good man. A strong man. But a strange one. He could smell blood on the wind and hunted dangerous people. People with teeth that are sharp and dangerous and who lusted for blood. Vampires. My Papa hunted the bad ones who were killed without care and left blood splattered everywhere. Mais… My Papa was strange. His nose too keen, his teeth too sharp, just like the vampires he took down. Because there was another side to those creatures. Some were normal, decent. He was decent; more than decent. I love my papa. And he loved me, even if I wasn't a vamp like him. I was his fledglin’. His baby vamp. I love you, and I can't think of anythin’ closer I could call you. Because I care about you so much.”

“You… love me?”

Gambit whispers, eyes growing wide. No one had told him that they loved him. Loved him for him and cared about him. Normally… Normally the Guild only cared about him for his use. It is the reason that he knows no one is coming for him. 

Remy looks at him, a slight softness filling the eyes that are so much like his own.

“I love you. I worry about you and care about you. I would do just about anything for you.”

He says voice brimming with truth. Gambit swallows and looks away, not trusting himself not to cry if he keeps looking into Remy’s eyes. 

“I… I love you too. I'm glad I met you. I'm sorry about how we met mais…”

He whispers, terrified of his own words. He trails off not trusting himself anymore. Remy purrs and whistles merrily. Gambit looks back and grins happily at him.

[now-that-i-saw-you]

Short reviews of everything I read this year:

Trials of Apollo ☆☆☆☆

Fantastic!!! Revived my PJO obsession. I enjoyed Apollo's narration. The 3rd-4th book were a little tedious though.

The Picture of Dorian Gray ☆☆☆☆☆

Flawless. So, so gay, weird and dramatic. I wish I could read it for the first time again.

Seasparrow ☆☆☆

I was disappointed. I didn't like the first POV, it made the book feel juvenile. It was too long and nothing happened. An unnecessary addition to the Graceling Realm universe because all the themes in this book were already presented in Bitterblue and Winterkeep. I might have liked this a lot more if it was not part of the Graceling Realm series.

All For The Game ☆☆☆☆☆

I'M OBSESSED. Nothing else to say.

One Last Stop ☆☆☆☆

It was cute and fun. I like it when you can feel that a book/show was planned. Every detail is carefully crafted to fit the narrative. I like how the author uses historical events to enrich the plot. Middle part of the book was a little flat.

The Cruel Prince ☆☆☆

It's...cute. I liked Jude a lot, didn't care for Cardan. Good enough to make me read the entire thing, bad enough that I might never read another book by that author.

Conversations With Friends ☆☆☆☆☆

Do you ever come across a book that's exactly what you needed? This was it for me. One of the only books I got from BookTok and actually loved. It was like being hugged and punched in the gut at the same time.

This Is How You Lose The Time War ☆☆☆☆☆

This book is poetry. It's a fairytale. It's the saddest, most romantic story I've ever read. It's so weird and confusing, I understood everything. It's a tragedy. It's so full of hope. It's perfect.

The Hellheim Propechy ☆☆☆ 1/2☆

It's a lovely series and I can't wait for the 3rd book. It has one of the healthiest relationship I've ever seen in books (and it's wlw!!!!). The villians are a little flat imo.

She Who Became The Sun ☆☆☆☆☆

I don't understand how people find the courage to write anymore books after Shelley Parker-Chan dropped this marvel. I want to eat this book.

The Catcher In The Rye (reread) ☆☆☆☆☆

I love this book idc. I love the metaphors, I love Holden, I love the way the plot develops.

Jane, Unlimited ☆☆☆☆☆

SO GOOD!! Such a unique and engaging book it had me pulling out a notebook and a pen and try to decipher all the clues like a goddamn detective.

Doctor Who: Time Lord Victorious ☆☆☆

It's was nice! Idk what else to say.

Pride & Prejudice ☆☆☆

Reading this felt like sitting at a 19th century tea party and gossiping.

More Than This ☆☆☆☆☆

I've wanted to reas this for a while and it exceeded my expectation. This book is so captivating, unique, heartbreaking and hopeful.

The Trial ☆☆☆

This book was a fever dream.

The Rest of Us Just Live Here ☆☆☆☆

I think Patrick Ness is my favorite author. He did a great job with the premise of the book cause it's a lovely coming of age story and the fantastic elements are woven so well into the story.

Evvie Drake Starts Over ☆☆☆

It's cute and I love the fact that the main conflict is between the FMC and her Male Best Friend and the way this book talks about DV but it also felt a little dull sometimes.

The Lottery ☆☆☆☆

This was a mindfuck.

The Rocking Horse Winner ☆☆☆

....what?

The Scorpio Races ☆☆☆☆

HOW DOES MAGGIE STIEFVATER KEEP COMING UP WITH THOSE WEIRD FUCKING PLOTS??

A Man Called Ove ☆☆☆☆

Really sweet. This book healed something in me.

The Broken Earth (1+2) ☆☆

Yeah....I was not in the right headspace when I read this. I just didn't understand anything. I wanna give this another chance next year if I can.

Lord of The Flies ☆☆☆☆

I want to reread it cause I definitely didn't fully appreciate it but I think it's a great allegory and it's so dark. I get the hype.

The Sun and The Star ☆☆☆☆

I don't think you understand how long I've waited for this book, how long I've waited for Solangelo content. This was so cute. So lovely. I love Nico, I love Will. I wish there was a 3rd character in this (like, idk, Reyna?)

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Prompt: telling them they deserve better (and silently wanting to be the one who gives it to them)

Thank you !!! 💛

Please don’t give up doing prompt snippets 🙏 yours are always so good 😊

Let's do it! Life got in the way, but this prompt is complete. I ignored the "silently" part, though, whoops.

___

Maura walked down the hall of the fourth floor of BPD, where the staff gym was housed. Sometimes, different departments ran training from the main area, using the padded flooring for de-escalation and self-defense. The rest of the time, employees were free to use the weights and the machines as they pleased. 

Maura arrived at the heavy double doors all the way at the end of the hall, and breathed a sobering breath. There was no slip of paper on it to denote any trainings, and she’d suspected as much. 

This increased the chances that Jane was on the other side of the doors exponentially. 

Maura couldn’t, however, bring herself to open them just yet. Because opening them would mean confronting Jane, precisely what she came to do, but confrontation required guts Maura was unsure she had. 

Tap. Tap. Thump. Tap. Tap. Thump.

Sounds Maura expected to hear. Sounds that signaled that Jane really did exist on the other side, and that Maura had no time to wring her hands over this face to face she’d planned.

Things were dire.

Maura pulled the right door open, and inhaled until her posture turned regal, icy. She needed the Queen of the Dead. Her heels clacked when she marched toward the punching bags. One bag sang against the stale air, air that smelled vaguely like sweat and something sweet, some kind of cleaning supply.

Jane punched it. Repeatedly.

Maura took a moment to study the hits themselves - it wasn’t that it was wild, but she saw rage in Jane’s method. Each third hit in the sequence was her deadliest, the punch she never used when teaching Maura self-defense, or sparring with her. 

Jane meant to be alone, with the demons she battled when she thought no one watched her. Maura thought about clearing her throat, but Jane either wouldn’t hear, or would ignore.

But Jane would never ignore her voice. “Jane,” she said. Firm. Measured. With a not unnoticeable amount of displeasure.

Jane’s next jab thundered into leather, sputtering and corrective. She’d heard, alright. She stopped. “Hey, Maura.” 

Maura studied Jane’s broad, shining shoulders, exposed by her tank top - white and blotched with sweat. When Jane breathed, winded from exertion, Maura stepped closer - learned Jane’s pulse until her own matched it. And that riled her. “I’m here to scold you.”

Jane raised one eyebrow and bared her pretty white teeth when she smirked. “Oh yeah? For what? Tellin’ Frankie not to kiss you? Beatin’ Tommy’s ass outside that bar? Any aspect of the shit storm that has landed on Rizzoli island lately?”

Now, or never, despite Jane’s handsomeness. “None of that. This is about your… your piss poor romantic decisions.”

This time, Jane wavered between pride in Maura’s colloquialism and indignance. “Excuse me?” She said, lips now turned down in a tight frown. 

Maura gulped down some confidence, hoping that when it reached her belly it would eventually metabolize into her bloodstream. She needed it fast. “You heard me. You spent the entire weekend in my home, lamenting that the man who once told you he’d settle down if you married him decided that you were no longer worth it.”

Jane, still taller despite Maura’s footwear, inched closer with a finger in the air. “Hey, you know he-”

Maura stamped one of those feet. “Don’t defend him,” she ordered. Jane froze, finger suspended between them. “Don’t give him any more rope to hang himself. He’s already done it. But here’s what I do not understand, Jane, despite having known you for years now - why would you consent to being treated that way?”

“That’s my business,” Jane replied lamely, dropping her taped hand to her side. “What say do you have in my romantic life?”

“You can claim your independence, your privacy, when you don’t fall apart with me every time he wavers. When you don’t crawl into my bed on the late nights he’s rescinded all his promises. When I don’t even stir because you do it so often now,” Maura hadn’t planned this part of the tirade, but she couldn’t stop. She stood toe-to-toe with Jane, who looked down on her defiant look upwards; she placed her entire right hand on Jane’s shoulder, palm flat. 

When Jane steeled for confrontation, Maura’s hand slipped closer to her clavicle. “You better watch what you say next,” said Jane. The tenor was that of a threat, but there was no bite to it. 

Maura spread her fingers. “Your heart,” she began, and they both looked to where she would be able to feel the roar of the subclavian artery. “It’s crying out for me right now. And it’s crying out for me every time you seek me out. So why? Why accept less than what you deserve? You deserve better.”

Jane deflated. But a small smile accompanied it. “You’re better?”

Maura scoffed. “You don’t think so?” she asserted, however, when she saw Jane’s lips quirk.

“I don’t think there’s anybody better than you,” admitted Jane. “But I also don’t think there’s anyone more scared than me.”

“I can be brave enough for the both of us,” Maura told her. Her hand slipped from Jane’s chest until it fell and caught one of Jane’s fingers. Maura refused to let it go.

[yeonchi]

Doctor Who 10 for 10 Part 2/10: Series 2

The 2005 revival of Doctor Who was a hit around the world, countering past criticisms and mockery of the series in the past that seemingly impeded the prospect of its return. However, with the departure of Christopher Eccleston announced just under two weeks into the premiere of the series, the production crew had to cast a new actor for the Doctor that would hopefully live up to the standard that Eccleston had achieved. Fortunately, though, they did manage to find one in David Tennant, a life-long fan of the series who had played characters in Big Finish audios and had a cameo role in the 40th Anniversary webcast Scream of the Shalka, which was originally intended to be the official continuation of the series until the RTD revival was announced.

The news of Tennant’s casting was announced on 15 April 2005, following the announcement of Eccleston’s departure two weeks before. This made a significant impact on production as RTD wanted to keep the regeneration secret until transmission and it also affected negotiations with Tennant and his agent. Luckily, negotiations went through smoothly and Tennant’s half of the regeneration scene in the finale was filmed soon after.

The rest is history. Let’s begin the retrospective for Series 2.

1. A new Christmas tradition

Even before Series 1 premiered in March 2005, the BBC had so much confidence in the success of Doctor Who that Jane Tranter, the drama controller at the BBC, commissioned not only a new series for 2006, but an hour-long Christmas Special for December 2005. The yearly Christmas Special (New Year’s/Festive Special during the Chibnall era) would go on to become a tradition for Doctor Who, just as Christmas specials in general became traditions in UK television.

With David Tennant debuting as the Tenth Doctor at the end of The Parting of the Ways, the then-upcoming Christmas Special, titled The Christmas Invasion, would provide an ample opportunity to introduce the new Doctor before he and Rose continued their adventures from the first episode of Series 2 nearly four months later.

For most of the episode, the Doctor is out of action while recovering from his regeneration, which allows an opportunity to explore post-regeneration domestics with Rose, Mickey and Jackie. In the end, the Doctor comes in to save the day (as always) and the ensuing scenes establish his character as someone who will let an enemy go after they cross him, but then give no second chances if they attack him after that. Arguably, this trait is something that would be common to all Doctors, even the Thirteenth Doctor, though if you compare the end of this Christmas Special and some episodes of the Jodie Whittaker era (particularly Arachnids in the UK and War of the Sontarans), you can see how Chris Chibnall completely missed the point of the character trait he clearly ripped off from the Tenth Doctor.

The special also featured an original song, Song for Ten, performed by Tim Phillips. Although an extended version was released, it was rearranged and rerecorded by Neil Hannon, however Tim Phillips did perform it for the Doctor Who Proms concert in 2008, even if it sounded like he was drunk while doing so.

In addition to the Christmas Special, Doctor Who decided to contribute something to the BBC’s Children In Need telethon every year starting from 2005. The contribution mostly included a preview of that year’s Christmas Special or an original short bridging the events between it and the last episode. From 2019-2021, there was no original contribution from Doctor Who for Children in Need (although their segments were featured), but in 2022, the contribution was the reveal of Series 14 companion Ruby Sunday, played by Millie Gibson.

Because The Christmas Invasion was filmed alongside Series 2, subsequent Christmas Specials would be counted among the next series’ episodes in home media releases, barring the specials that featured the regeneration of the Doctor. While I was okay with this episode arrangement during the RTD era, in the Moffat era I thought that the specials should be counted amongst those for the previous series. This would become the case for the New Year’s Specials in the Chibnall era.

Also, fun fact - Christopher Eccleston was credited as “Doctor Who” during Series 1, but David Tennant requested that he be credited as “the Doctor”, and thus all future Doctors from then on were credited as such, just as Peter Davison was back in the classic series.

2. Return of an old companion

Sarah Jane Smith, played by Elisabeth Sladen, was a companion of the Third and Fourth Doctors from 1973 to 1976, later reprising her role in 1981 for the K9 and Company pilot, A Girl’s Best Friend, 1983 for the 20th Anniversary Special, The Five Doctors, and 1993 for the 30th anniversary Children in Need special, Dimensions in Time.

Sarah Jane was such an iconic companion that RTD wanted to spotlight her in the hope of shedding a light on what happens (and what happened) to those who travel with the Doctor. The production approached Sladen in early 2005 and she accepted the offer to return after fears that she was only being invited back for a throwaway cameo. Sarah Jane made her return in Series 2’s third episode, School Reunion. Although initially not planned on returning, K9 was added to the story (along with Mickey Smith) on the request of the production team; K9 was destroyed at the end of the episode, but the Doctor rebuilt him and left him with Sarah Jane.

During the episode, we got to see the dynamic between Rose and Sarah Jane as there is a scene where they discuss their time as companions of the Doctor. The effects of the Doctor leaving Sarah Jane are also explored, providing some foreshadowing for Rose’s situation in the series finale. Of course, this wouldn’t be Sarah Jane’s only involvement in the Doctor Who revival.

3. Genesis of the spinoffs

Doctor Who was starting to peak in popularity at the start of Series 2 thanks to what had come before. In 2005 and 2006, the BBC asked RTD to develop two spin-offs of Doctor Who; a mature series directed to an adult audience, which would be known as Torchwood; and a children’s drama, which would be known as The Sarah Jane Adventures.

The title Torchwood, an anagram of “Doctor Who”, was used as a codename during production of Series 1 to disguise footage from the series prior to broadcast. RTD even sprinkled mentions of it in Series 1 and 2 in the hopes that he could use it should a spinoff be commissioned. Luckily, it was and the finale of Series 2 would feature the Torchwood Institute in earnest in preparation for the spinoff.

The main character of Torchwood was Captain Jack Harkness, who had been left behind on Satellite Five following his death and resurrection in The Parting of the Ways. He would attempt to make his way from 200,100 to the 21st century using his vortex manipulator, but he missed and ended up in 1869 where his vortex manipulator burned out. Eventually in 1899, he would be found by Torchwood agents and brought to their branch in Cardiff, where he began working for them until he could find the Doctor again. Following the events of the Series 2 finale, the Cardiff branch, also known as Torchwood Three became the only surviving branch of the Torchwood Institute.

The first series of Torchwood premiered on 22 October 2006, with a second series following a year after the finale on 16 April 2008. A third series, featuring a single five-part story, was broadcast from 6 to 10 July 2009. The fourth series, Miracle Day, premiered in July 2011. In 2015, Big Finish would begin featuring Torchwood in a new monthly series of audio dramas while also releasing new audio dramas continuing the story after Miracle Day.

The Sarah Jane Adventures featured, obviously, Sarah Jane Smith, continuing her story following her appearance in School Reunion. It took place concurrently with the main Doctor Who series, which allowed for Sarah Jane, her son Luke Smith, and K9 to appear in the Series 4 finale of Doctor Who, which took place between the first and second series of SJA. The Tenth and Eleventh Doctors also appeared in two stories while the Brigadier and Jo Grant (now Jo Jones) made guest appearances as well.

The pilot episode of SJA, Invasion of the Bane, was broadcast on 1 January 2007 (alongside the finale of Torchwood Series 1). The series began in earnest later that year on 24 September and new series would be produced every year until Elisabeth Sladen’s death on 19 April 2011, forcing production on the fifth series to be abandoned as the series itself was cancelled.

Before SJA though, there was also Totally Doctor Who, a magazine-style show similar to Blue Peter that was more like a junior version of Doctor Who Confidential. Episodes premiered on the Thursday or Friday prior to a new episode, reviewing the previous episode while previewing the upcoming episode as well. The second series also debuted an animated serial, The Infinite Quest. As a result, there was no episode covering the final episode of each series. Only two series of Totally Doctor Who were produced as CBBC wanted to focus their funding on The Sarah Jane Adventures from 2008 onwards.

The BBC also took advantage of interactive and online mediums to release content. Relevant to Series 2, short minute-long preludes known as Tardisodes were released for phones through the internet, meaning that they could also be watched on computers. The Tardisodes were never released on home media so there are no standard-quality versions of them anywhere and future prequel shorts would be released online while also being made available on home media.

Attack of the Graske, an interactive movie game, premiered on BBC Red Button and was also made available on the Series 2 DVD and online as a Flash game.

Unfortunately, spinoffs, prequels and behind-the-scenes content began waning during the Moffat era. Aside from the ending of Torchwood and SJA, Doctor Who Confidential was cancelled at the end of Series 6 and behind-the-scenes content became shorter and scarcer even with series like Doctor Who Extra, Inside Look, Closer Look, The Fan Show and Access All Areas. A spinoff Class premiered in 2016, but it never got past one series. Luckily, with the RTD2 era and the worldwide move to Disney+, Doctor Who Confidential is rumoured to return as Doctor Who Unleashed and spinoff series involving Cybermen, Daleks, Sontarans, Weeping Angels and Sea Devils are reportedly in the works, but time will only tell.

4. Double-banking

Over the years, it has become clear that filming 13 episodes and a Christmas Special over nine months would be a daunting task, hence why episode numbers were gradually cut over the years during the Moffat and Chibnall eras. As stated in the previous instalment, Series 1’s filming, especially the first block, was a nightmare because the crew were inexperienced and as such, production went over schedule.

Although there was no double-banking planned, The Long Game was forced to enter production during the filming of The Empty Child and The Doctor Dances (or maybe it was the other way around considering the order of the blocks). Filming for The Long Game was entirely done in studio and “third leads” in the form of Adam Mitchell and Jack Harkness were introduced, which narrowly allowed all three episodes to be completed in time.

During Series 2, RTD devised the concept of a Doctor-lite episode, that is an episode without the Doctor or his companion, at least for most of the episode (Father’s Day in Series 1 could be considered one as well). This was a necessity when the Christmas Specials were commissioned, meaning that double-banking was the only practical way to film 14 episodes in 9 months considering what it takes to film an episode of Doctor Who.

Love & Monsters is the episode that resulted from this concept in Series 2. It was originally planned to be filmed alongside Fear Her, but delays in The Impossible Planet and The Satan Pit meant that it would be filmed alongside those episodes instead. This episode is apparently notorious among fans for being bad, at least towards the end.

The monster in this episode, the Abzorbaloff (played by Peter Kay), was created by then-nine-year-old William Grantham as part of a Blue Peter “design-a-monster competition”. Grantham would go on to start the Channel Pup YouTube channel and also aside from insulting Bowlestrek and NoelZone (at one point), would go on to talk about this experience and judge another design competition for a monster to be featured in a Doctor Who: Lockdown! minisode released in 2021 to tie in with the tweetalong for Love & Monsters.

5. The New Earth saga

I didn’t talk about Cassandra and the Face of Boe aside from an honourable mention in the last instalment, so I’ll talk about them here now.

The first three series had an episode near the start that covered the New Earth saga; Series 1 had The End of the World, Series 2 had the aptly named New Earth and Series 3 had Gridlock.

In the year 5,000,000,000, Cassandra sabotaged Platform One so that it would be destroyed along with the Earth when the sun expanded, but the Ninth Doctor thwarted her plans and when Cassandra tried to escape, he teleported her back to Platform One and let her skin dry out without her surgeons to moisturise her.

Her brain survived, however, and 23 years later, she was hiding in the basement of a hospital on New Earth with her force-cloned assistant, Chip. She used a psychograft to transfer her consciousness into Rose’s body in an attempt to discover the secret of the Sisters of Plenitude and blackmail them. When that failed, she released all the patients the Sisters were experimenting on and attempted to cause a pandemic, however through Cassandra switching bodies multiple times and showing remorse for the patients’ suffering, the Doctor managed to cure the patients, helping create a new subspecies of humans to populate New Earth. Following this, Cassandra possessed Chip to return Rose to the Doctor and decided that it was time to let herself die with Chip, but not before the Doctor took Cassandra to her past and allowed her to tell her past self that she was beautiful.

Although they merely passed each other on Platform One, the Doctor met the Face of Boe again in the hospital, where he was dying of old age. When the crisis in the hospital was over, the Doctor saw the Face of Boe, who told him that they would meet again and that he would tell him his last words then before teleporting away. I’ll leave the rest for the Series 3 retrospective in the next instalment.

A factoid regarding Cassandra - RTD told Doctor Who Magazine that if her actor, Zoë Wanamaker, had not been available for New Earth, then the villain would have been Cassandra’s sister, Roseanne.

6. Mickey, the tin dog

Series 2 saw some more character development for Mickey, particularly in regards to his relationship with Rose. In Series 1, Mickey was a bit of a coward and the Doctor didn’t respect him, even going so far as to call him “Ricky”. However, during the encounter with the Slitheen, Mickey showed the Doctor that he wasn’t entirely the coward he thought he was and they began to have a mutual respect for each other.

Following his regeneration, the Doctor was on more friendlier terms with Mickey. After meeting Sarah Jane and K9, Mickey realised that being the “technical support” for the Doctor and Rose, he was essentially the K9 of their relationship - the “tin dog”. This would lead him to join the Doctor and Rose, deciding that he didn’t want to be the “tin dog” anymore.

After falling into a parallel universe (that would later be known as Pete’s World), Mickey met his parallel counterpart, Ricky, who was braver than he was when he first met the Doctor. He also met his blind grandmother, Rita-Anne, who died in his home universe when she tripped over a tear in her stair carpet that Mickey had been meaning to get fixed. During an encounter with the Cybus Cybermen in which Ricky was killed, he gained the courage to stand up and defeat the Cybermen in his place. These factors were what led Ricky to remain in the parallel universe, along with him realising that Rose preferred being with the Doctor more than him.

Continuing into future series territory, Mickey came back to the Doctor’s universe twice, once while following the Cybermen and once during the War in the Medusa Cascade. Following the latter, Mickey took the opportunity to move back to his home universe, seeing as Rita-Anne passed away after spending her last years living in a mansion, presumably Pete and Jackie Tyler’s mansion, and Rose had another version of the Doctor, meaning that there wasn’t anything left for him on that world. From this we can see how Mickey has grown through hardship to become who he was in the end.

Noel Clarke has acknowledged that he made Mickey slapstick because he assumed that Doctor Who had a younger audience. This was apparently criticised by fans and Clarke decided to tone the comedic elements down for Series 2. In an interview with Tony Hadoke for his Big Finish podcast in 2014, Russell T Davies said that Clarke overthought this and that he was doing exactly what was written in the scripts.

7. A classic villain redesign

Speaking of Cybermen (from the previous topic), Series 2 saw the return of the iconic metal men in a new design that would be iconic to the revived series until Series 7 Part 2 in 2013. Although the head of a Cyberman was shown in Henry van Statten’s underground museum in Dalek, it wouldn’t be until Rise of the Cybermen and The Age of Steel that the Cybermen were fully reintroduced. Since the history of the Cybermen was complicated due to various origins and backstories (which would later be explained by parallel evolution in Series 10), RTD decided to use a parallel universe as their origin.

The Cybusmen, as they would come to be known, are bulkier and more monotone because they were made to be more robotic compared to the classic series. They also used technical terms and the catchphrase “Delete” which had not been used previously in the classic series.

Since the design of the Cybusmen was also used in Series 5 and 6, Neil Gaiman theorised that they “cross-pollinated” with the Mondasian/Telosian Cybermen, eventually resulting in the new unified design that made its debut in Nightmare in Silver.

8. The parallel universe factor

The aforementioned Cybermen two-parter wasn’t the first story to feature parallel universes as the Third Doctor serial Inferno did so back in 1970. The Tenth Doctor claimed that travelling between parallel universes was possible thanks to the Time Lords, I have to press X to doubt seeing as we had very few parallel universe stories in the past. The revived series is the first time where a parallel universe plays a big part in the ongoing series’ story arc.

In Pete’s World (where Rose’s father, Pete Tyler, hadn’t been killed when she was a baby), John Lumic had the Cybermen developed through Cybus Industries as a means of making humanity immortal while he was suffering from a terminal illness himself. The entire project contravened the Genevan Bio-Convention so the experiments had to be carried out in secret with people whose disappearances wouldn’t be noticed. That world was mostly controlled by Cybus Industries, with the company owning many other companies (including Pete Tyler’s health drink company, Vitex) and controlling the media.

The majority of people wore EarPods made by Cybus, allowing Lumic to control people and retrieve information from their brains while also allowing people to communicate and enjoy media, similar to what smartphones are used for nowadays (back in 2006, mobile phones, game consoles and music players were separate things). The EarPods also played a part in “the ultimate upgrade”, commanding people all over London to head to the Cyber-factory in Battersea for cyber-conversion. Yeah, I suppose that’s a way to prevent freedom protests, by directly controlling people’s minds.

Given the events of the last few years, I feel like Pete’s World satirically foreshadows the “New World Order” thing that some people have been talking about, only it’s not “you will own nothing and be happy”, it’s more “you will feel nothing and be identical”. On top of Cybus Industries and EarPods, there are also army blockades and nightly curfews for the lower-class, rich people using zeppelins in the 21st century, Great Britain is a “People’s Republic”, the countries of South America are combined into a state and there’s a “United States of Mexico”. How very World Economic Forum of you. Anyway, if you want to hear the opposite of this you’ll have to wait for the next instalment.

Anyway, a little factoid regarding Pete - apparently, Simon Pegg was cast to play him, but since he was unavailable when Father’s Day was going to be filmed, the role went to Shaun Dingwall. Pegg would go on to play the Editor in The Long Game.

9. The Cult of Skaro

Each series finale in the RTD era has featured a villain who escaped from the Time War. Series 1 had the Dalek Emperor and with Series 2 comes the Cult of Skaro.

The Cult of Skaro was an elite group of four Daleks who were above and beyond the Emperor himself and designed to think as the enemy thinks and imagine new ways of survival. They were even given names, which was unique for Daleks. The Cult of Skaro formed another mini-arc that would culminate in the Series 4 finale.

During the Time War, the Cult of Skaro escaped into the Void in a Void Ship with the Genesis Ark, which contained millions of Daleks captured by the Time Lords. The Void Ship caused cracks in the universe (opened even further by Torchwood’s meddling), which caused the TARDIS to end up in Pete’s World and later, allowed the Cybermen from that world to imprint themselves into the Doctor’s universe (as ghosts) before invading it in earnest. This would also allow people to jump between universes, but at the cost of ripping holes in the universe.

In Army of Ghosts and Doomsday, the Cult of Skaro revealed themselves and also discovered the existence of the Cybermen, which led to a war between them in an act of pest control. During the conflict, the Genesis Ark was opened and the millions of Daleks captured began swarming out, exterminating Cybermen, humans and the like. The Cult of Skaro managed to escape with an Emergency Temporal Shift when the Doctor sent the Cybermen and Daleks into the Void.

This story marked the first time the Daleks and Cybermen were shown together on-screen, in conflict no less. Although the Daleks and Cybermen would be shown together under lesser capacities in a few later episodes, the next episode where they would be seen together with roles of significance would be The Power of the Doctor. Apparently this idea was floated about in December 1967 when the BBC approached Terry Nation about it, but Nation vetoed the idea.

10. The Rose left on the beach

Too soon, I know. It’s never too soon when it comes to Doctor Who, apparently.

Although it was reported in March 2006 that David Tennant and Billie Piper had signed on for Series 3, it would later be reported that Piper would be leaving the series, at first midway through Series 2, then later at the end. This was a decision that Piper had made a year prior, but remained secret until it was reported. In 2021, Piper would later explain that the fame of playing Rose made her “really uncomfortable”, plus she wanted to do different things and didn’t like the responsibility of being a role model (which is more than can be said for some Kamen Rider actors).

In-series, the departure of Rose was because travelling through the Void caused her to be covered in background radiation, or “Void stuff”. The Doctor’s plan was to open the Void using Torchwood’s equipment and suck the “Void stuff” back in, the Cybermen and Daleks along with it. However, since anyone covered in the “Void stuff” would be sucked in as well, the only option was for Rose to go to Pete’s World with Jackie, Mickey and Pete while the Doctor used the magnaclamps to hold on.

Rose was sent to Pete’s World, but she immediately went back, not willing to leave the Doctor. She helped the Doctor execute his plan, but when they opened the Void, Rose couldn’t hold on (when the lever on her side was about to fail) and was about to be sucked in as well until Pete saved her, after initially refusing to do so out of concern that more damage would be done to his universe. For this scene, there was some debate over who would rescue Rose; RTD and Julie Gardner wanted Pete, while Noel Clarke and Phil Collinson wanted Mickey. Ultimately, the former was chosen to show that he had accepted Rose as a surrogate daughter.

Following these events, the Doctor managed to find a remnant breach and caused a supernova (according to his words) to contact Rose. Rose found the Doctor projecting himself at a place that translated to Bad Wolf Bay and they said goodbye, though the Doctor was never able to say his last words to her before the breach fully closed.

Rose was officially declared dead as a result of the conflict at Canary Wharf. Jack Harkness would learn of this and bring it up to the Doctor when they next met, only for the Doctor to correct him.

Although RTD told the press that Rose was gone for good, he apparently told Piper, “See you in two years.” Piper would later reprise her role in Series 4 before returning again in 2013 for The Day of the Doctor. A spinoff for Rose titled Rose Tyler: Earth Defence was commissioned by the BBC, but RTD cancelled it because he thought it would have lessened the impact of Doomsday. However, Piper would be featured in the Big Finish audio series The Dimension Cannon, which details Rose’s adventures in other universes before meeting the Doctor again in Series 4. Producer David Richardson told RTD that he wanted to bring the cancelled spinoff to life through audio, but during the development stage, RTD suggested the current idea instead and they went with that.

Series 2 saw Doctor Who being elevated to the level of an idol drama as audiences were treated to the developing relationship between the Doctor and Rose before circumstances tore them apart. Despite this, the series still maintained its science-fiction roots while calling back to the classic series and continuing to innovate itself for the modern era. With the previous series sticking to settings based on Earth or just near it, this series began exploring planets outside of Earth, showing just how the series had evolved since its revival.

At the same time, Series 2 also provided the starting foundation for the two spinoffs complementing Doctor Who and elevated David Tennant’s popularity to the point that he is basically the revived series equivalent of Tom Baker. After the difficulties that plagued Series 1, Series 2 showed that the series had found its footing and could continue evolving by leaps and bounds.

Stay tuned for Part 3 where I give my 10 takes on Series 3.

[distracteddegenerate]

Yandere!Yuta x Fem!FirstYear!Reader

Warnings: jjk spoilers, tw.yandere, tw.noncon, tw.dubcon, tw.blood

Thrown up into the crisp air like a chained animal cut loose, you barrelled down the school’s polished floors, The sound of your mary-janes clacking on the ground resonating through the corridor loudly.

Heart beating in your chest wildly, frenzied breaths escaped from your belly into the chill air, like dissipated spirits that snapped into nothingness as you broke past them. You could hear the lanterns you passed in your hurry being put out one by one, mere seconds apart. 

The shadow consuming them was growing, and gaining on you rapidly.

You skid to a screeching halt at the bottom of the hallway, almost toppling over from your frantic momentum. 

Dead end.

You gasp, spinning around to look at your pursuer head on, jaw clenched and eyes closed tightly, bracing for something horrible. 

The air snaps and whizzes past you, your (h/c) hair billowing outwards when you hear a faint impact on the wall behind you. Your eyes snap open, and before you have the chance to move, you feel the weight of a monstrous set of claws wrap around your shoulders tightly, The sharpness of the talons sinking into your flesh and threatening to slice into it.

You chew your lip in panic, straining in the grasp of the vengeful spirit that had taken you hostage. You knew there was no chance of escape now. But you probably knew that from the start anyways. Rika Orimoto was one of the most powerful curses in existence, her power obliged by the innate talents of her master, who was rounding the corner of the passageway this very second.

Materializing from the darkness was a slouching, gloomy figure, his hands in his pockets as he ambled closer to you. 

“Now now, Rika. I told you to be gentle with her, didn’t I?”

With that, the pressure weighing on your body was lightened. Although you were now able to move slightly more, fear rendered you motionless, your eyes staring straight ahead with tears threatening to prick their way through.

“Sorry, (Name)-chan. We didn't mean to frighten you.” Grinning sheepishly, Yuta ran his fingers over his hair, combing it back before letting it fall down again to frame his face. “It’s just.. You didn’t even give me a chance to explain myself before you took off.”

When you could only offer a small whimper in response, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. Yuta’s lips tightened shut and he leant in closer to your face. He brought his hand to your cheek, and traced his fingers down to grab your chin. Clenching it tightly, he yanked hard, forcing you to look straight up at him.

“I deserve that at least, don’t I? To be listened to?”

You felt Rika’s talons sink down deeply onto your shoulders once again, Only this time you yelped from the pain. This time she had actually cut through your blazer and into the skin beneath. You felt a wet warmth spread out from the site of your new wound.

“Rika, now didn’t I just tell you to be gentle? You just hurt (Name)-chan!” Yuta sighed, and looked from you to the curse behind you in exasperation. “I thought you promised to help me do this, because you wanted to make me happy…”

You could swear you heard the spirit groan in protest. 

“Tut-tut, Rika. You know that she’s fragile.” He huffed, your head was forced to follow the exhaling motion, chin still held tightly in his grasp. “I think you should let me handle the rest. Go and think about what you’ve done.”

You heard a deep, mournful moan, and the barely audible noise of Rika scurrying into the shadows. Yuta had released his grip on your chin, and allowed you to crane your neck around to glimpse part of the curse’s escaping form writhing away. The feeling of Yuta’s left hand coming to rest on your waist, the other hovering over your wounded shoulder, snapped you back to reality. He stroked over the gash, cooing softly. You whimpered.

“You’re a sorcerer, yet you’re so delicate, (name)-chan. You know, Rika would rip you in half if she could. She’s that jealous.” He lifted his finger tips, now covered in your blood. He held them between the both of you. The moonlight breaking through the windows that lined the hallway washed over Yuta’s form, your blood glistening over the blood soaking his raised digits. 

“But.. I can stop her. I have the power to fix up this injury too, with a reverse technique.”  You looked deep into his eyes, and looked away quickly again soon after. They seemed so wild, so frightening. His hand suddenly shot forward, and he grabbed you tightly, his hand wrapping around your face and squeezing your cheeks. He walked forward firmly, slamming you into the wall behind.

“It’s rude to look away when a senpai is talking to you, (name)-chan.” You struggled in his grasp, shaking your head as strained as the motion was due to his hold on you. 

“W-why? Okkotsu-senpai..” You blubbered out as best you could, your cheeks still squeezed so tight it hurt, tears beginning to stream down your face. He chuckled. If not for the situation, that unassuming laugh would have made you feel secure.

“Because you need me, (name)-chan. It’s like I said, you’re so delicate. And here I am, a big strong powerful sorcerer. One of the strongest” He let go of your cheeks that were now burning from his grip, and wiped at the tear stains. His left hand still on your waist, he moved in even closer to you. He was now crushing you against the wall. “I can make you, or I can fucking break you.”

The cheerful grin he wore, betrayed all of his actions. Especially now that he had planted the hand that was wiping away your tears on the wall behind your head, and was pushing his knee upwards, up between your legs. His head moved in closer, to the crook where your shoulder and neck met, where he lightly pecked at the skin. His thumb rubbed circles on your hip, as he started moving his knee, boring it into your heat in a kneading motion. You began to weep again.

“God.. so fucking cute, (name)-chan. You need me. Don’t you? Tell me you do, right now.”

[midgardianweasley]

Your grace! Bless us with a Natasha x reader where the team is invited to a wedding by a close friend of Tony’s. Then when the bridal bouquet is thrown, the bride throws it too hard where reader accidentally catches it and the team is just going “Oooooh!” And reader is like “I’m not even in a relationship!” But the team know in secret that reader and Natasha have feelings for each other but are too dumb to know. Just funniness and fluff! 🥰😍 (Your writing is brilliant btw!)

I loved this request!! I hope i did it justice <3

it’s a wedding thing

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

^idk Nat, you tell me^

Summary: When the Avengers get invited to a close friend of Tony's wedding, what hidden feelings will surface? What relationships will bloom? Who will be the next bride?

Warnings: none!

word count: 4.1k

Message/ask if you want to be added to the taglist!

requests are open loves

“Alright gang, this one’s for all of us, we all listening?”

A cluster of ‘yes’ ‘go on’ ‘come on Tony’ filled the room, everyone eager to hear what the fancy envelope held inside. It was amusing to watch Tony take advantage of everyone’s excitement, slowly peeling the envelope, gasping when he pulled the letter out of the casing slightly, not letting anyone else see what was written on it.

You, Natasha and Wanda all seemed to share a look of amusement at the dramatics and the almost visible frustration coming off of everyone. It was like watching children try to wait patiently for sweets in a shop, almost completely off of their seats. It wasn’t until Tony noticed that Pepper was giving him a warning look, that he, begrudgingly, hurried up and announced what was written on the letter.

“Wow. Caleb’s getting married.” He spoke, eyebrows raised in surprise. “And he’s invited the team.”

“Well, I’m not going.” A voice spoke from the corner of the room, clearly un-amused by what was currently going on.

“Luckily for you, I don’t see ‘reindeer games’ anywhere on the invitation. So you’re off the hook.” He replied with a tight lipped smile, Thor had been visiting recently to see Jane and pay the avengers a visit and wanted to bring Loki to meet her.

‘A pleasant trip’ Thor said.

‘A living hell’ Tony corrected.

It got a laugh out of the team though. Nat and I especially. We’d spent the last couple of nights in each other’s bedrooms, making a list about our favourite moments through the day where Tony and Loki clashed, making stupid insults towards the other. I think it’s safe to say that we went through multiple bags of popcorn over the nights, though you were both thankful it was there, it was the only thing muffling the laughter, if it hadn't, you’re almost certain the entire compound would have woken up at the sound of our laughter.

You nudged Natasha’s side gently, the bicker between the two men still continuing.

“Hey, Nat.” She turned and tilted her head questioningly.

“So we know how a physical fight between those two worked out. But, if they had to compete in a rap battle, who do you think would win?”

Her face immediately lit up, eyes sparkling which only enhanced their beauty, you could almost feel the cogs turning in her head, trying to go through every logical option.

“Well. Loki seems pretty well spoken, so vocabulary wise, I think he’d be strong. But Tony is sarcastic which can help with quick quips. But then again, Loki-”

“Hey lovebirds, Romanoff, Y/L/N” Tony clicked his fingers, earning himself a pair of eyerolls at the term he’d used. “Anything you wanna share with the team, or can we move on?”

“Actually-”

“Overridden. Moving on.”

You looked towards Natasha, snickering slightly at how blunt he’s being, Loki having found his way under his skin again. A part of you felt bad for the man, but that feeling is soon replaced by amusement. It was obvious Nat felt the same way, her sharing the same expression as you, although, you could hide yours much better. She had to physically put her hand over her mouth in the hopes the man wouldn’t notice her.

“So, the wedding is next week, a little short notice but when do we ever have enough notice, who’s in?”

Looking around the room, there were a handful of nods, each looking to see who else was going to go. You looked towards Nat again to see if she was planning on attending, only to find her already staring at you.

“So Y/L/N, up for a wedding?”

“It would be a nice change of pace. Are you going?”

“Only if you are” You blushed slightly at the response.

“Better get your nicest dress on Romanoff.” You winked, her turn to blush and focus back on what the rest of the group was saying.

“It’s probably easy if I list couples first on the RSVP and then the singles.” Tony took a glance around the table, mentally taking note of those who had shown signs of agreement. “So there’ll be Wanda and Vision, Legolas and his wife, Romanoff and Y/L/N, Thor and Jane-” You felt your face morph into one of confusion.

“Woah woah, Tony, back up, what did you say?”

“Thor and Jane, they’re-”

“Before that.”

“I’ve said this before Y/N, Legolas isn’t actually real. I meant Clint.”

“Very funny.” He held a proud smirk. “Romanoff and I aren’t a couple”

You wish.

“That’s not what Rogers said when he saw you both cuddling up on the sofa last night.” Before you had a chance to look in Steve’s direction, you could practically feel the daggers Nat was sending him, making his face cringe slightly and his back straighten.

“That’s what Rogers said, is it?” She spoke, tilting her head in question. You knew she was partly joking, but you’d still decided to intervene before anyone lost any limbs.

“My head fell onto her shoulder when I dozed off during our movie. It wasn’t ‘cuddling’ , thank you very much.” You laughed, internally wishing that Steve’s words were true.

“See? So cut it out.” Steve put his hands up in surrender, despite having a cheeky grin on his face.

“Okay okay. Fine!” The billionaire said, writing something on the envelope. “I’ll just put ‘couple pending’” He muttered

“Stark!”

__________________________

You and the girls had just come back from dress shopping, all three of you had spent the whole day in and out of different shops, hours in dressing rooms and your voices were almost completely gone with how often you were telling each other, ‘that looks stunning’ ‘that’s the one!’ and the most common one by the end of the trip; ‘please just pick a dress so we can go home and nap’. That one was from our very own black widow, her patience wore a little thin after 8 hours of staring at dresses.

You had gone through all the colours and styles while you were out, ranging from classy jumpsuits to figure hugging dresses that felt like a second skin. Wanda and Natasha had chosen their dresses and were eager to find you one, and what a mission that was.

“I promise you, we’re not going home until we find this dress, okay?”

“Wanda’s right. We’ll stay out until they all shut if we have to. But, let’s make that a last resort.” Natasha eyed you both warily.

You’d been walking around for hours now. Each dress you tried on had potential, but there was always something that didn’t sit right with you. It was either too baggy, too tight, the cut wasn’t appealing, the length wasn’t ideal, it was starting to feel hopeless. You’d even suggested just going in your pyjamas, but Wanda’s death glare had made it clear that wasn’t an option.

You and Natasha were both dragging your feet, Wanda still having a slight spring in her step as you walked into the final shop and picking up a couple of dresses before then going into the dressing room to try them on.

The first two were okay, but you weren’t a fan. Then there was the third one. The third one was a gorgeous Y/F/C dress that fell just past your knees, it had thin straps and the skirt was simple and loose so that when you spun around in it, you felt like a princess. You looked in the mirror and you adored the reflection, you still wanted the others opinions though, though you didn’t doubt that they’d feel the same way.

Pulling the curtain back and gaining their attention from where they were looking elsewhere, you smiled when you saw their reaction, more specifically, Natasha’s. Wanda was complimentary, walking up and feeling the fabric, gushing about how beautiful you looked, but you barely heard it, too focused on the redhead sitting in front of you, her eyes glazed over and her jaw almost on the floor, completely zoned out on you.

“This dress is it, Y/N, you have to get it! Nat? What do you think?” Her head shook, bringing herself back to reality and briefly meeting your eyes, only to quickly dart between You, Wanda and your dress in an attempt to compose herself.

“Yeah, I mean, wow, you look- wow.” Her hands flailed in your direction. You’d knocked the assassin speechless. Wanda rolled her eyes playfully at the interaction. She’d known about you and Nat’s feelings for each other for a month or two now, silently cursing the both of you when there was an opportunity to confess, yet never did. It was obvious to the rest of the team, why were neither of you picking up on it?

Keeping quiet, she ushered you back into the changing room, much to Natasha’s relief, both because she wanted to head back to the compound and she wasn’t sure how much longer she would’ve lasted seeing you standing there looking literally flawless. She always thought you looked amazing, but there was something about the way you looked in front of her just then that made her brain feel like a haze.

It was pretty safe to say,

You bought the dress.

Collapsing on your bed, dropping your bags to the side and letting out a loud sigh, you heard your door shut and someone fall into the chair by the window. You already knew who it was.

“I’m exhausted.” The woman groaned, rubbing her hands up and down her face to attempt to physically remove the tiredness from her body.

“Sorry for dragging you around for so long, I just-”

“Hey, no, don’t apologise for that. We all said we’d find the perfect dress, and it was worth the wait.” Heat rose to your cheeks at her words.

“You really think I looked good?”

Natasha could sense your underlying tone of doubt, unsure as to why you would doubt her opinion, she’d always been honest with you. Nonetheless, she heaved herself out of her seat and made her way to the end of the bed, kneeling down so that your now sat up figure could look down into her eyes, with her hands on each side of your face to focus you on her and her alone.

“I wouldn’t lie to you, okay? You looked incredible and I'm sure you’ll look even better at this wedding on Saturday, if that’s even possible.” You let out a small chuckle at her words as a smile made its way onto her face.

“You’ll be the prettiest one there.”

“Better not tell the Bride you said that, Nat.” She laughed, looking down for only a few seconds before looking at you again.

“We’ll make that our secret.” You nodded in silent agreement, grateful that she’d made you feel so reassured.

“Thank you, Tasha.”

“You’re more than welcome, sweetheart.” She replied.

You were so lost in her words, you hadn’t realised how close her face had gotten to yours, and how her eyes swapped between your eyes and your lips. You didn’t realise how she subconsciously had kept edging towards you, hands trembling a little with every inch closer she gets.

She wanted to kiss you. Every nerve in her body was almost electrified with the temptation to just move her lips over yours and become one. Her pulse raced, almost to prepare her for doing so. Which is why she wanted to kick herself with a pair of her highest heels when she uttered her next words.

“We should get some sleep.”

You broke out of your trance, jumping backwards slightly when noticing limited space between you both. You awkwardly coughed as she stood, heading back over to her chair to grab her bag and return to her room.

“Yeah, yeah of course. Big today, rest is probably a good idea.” You both nodded, she was already one foot out of the door when she gave you a small ‘goodnight’ and left, not waiting to hear you say it back.

Just like you hadn’t realised her actions early, you were oblivious to her hitting her head off of the wall in the corridor just outside of your room, wondering why she’d backed away. Where was Thor’s hammer when you needed to knock some sense into yourself? She thought before dragging herself back to her room where she would fall asleep, unable to get you out of her head.

_________________________

“Right! Headcount before we go in! And I want us all on our best behaviour Avengers, this is a wedding” Steve had completely lost you after ‘Headcount’. Not only are most of you fully grown adults, sorry Peter, but he seems to be oblivious to the fact that some of you were wearing high heels, and patience in high heels had an expiry date.

“Y’know, if he doesn’t let us in soon, I’m not afraid to threaten him with his own shield.” You heard a whisper just behind your ear, smirking at the comment.

“I’ll join you.” You answered, Bruce and Clint sharing a knowing look from afar when watching the two of you have your own quiet conversation, though short lived when they saw Natasha’s head move in their direction, their gaze coming to a halt so as to avoid any conflict with their teammate.

You guys could try to hide it all you want, but your entire team knows better than that, they just had to wait it out until you both finally admitted it to the other.

______________________

You and the Avenger’s were currently sitting at a guest table, now in the reception part of the evening. The ceremony was beautiful, the bride wore a crisp white ball gown with her makeup and hair done to perfection, the groom looking like a prince in his black tux and a look full of adoration towards his wife to be painted on his face.

Their looks weren’t the best part of it though. The clothes and the accessories were lovely, of course. But all you could focus on was the love shared between them as they shared their vows telling the other how they believed they were each other's soulmate, and that they promised to always be the other’s rock. You’d found yourself with tears in your eyes, barely able to appreciate the sight with how blurry your vision was now. They finally fell when they said their ‘I do’s’, feeling only happiness for the newlyweds.

Although marriage hadn’t been something you always thought about, you’d hoped that you would meet your special someone and settle down, retire from the missions, the battles, the superhero lifestyle and just be with your soulmate for the rest of your days.

Despite not being a couple, whenever you thought of the person you wanted to spend the rest of your time with, there was only one person that came to mind. And she stood right in front of you throughout the ceremony, comforting a sobbing demi-god while he was also trying to explain to Vision why he was in floods of tears.

Music filled the room, upbeat, but calm enough for the couples on the dancefloor to sway gently to the beat, soft lights occasionally shining on them as they danced, the bride and groom being one of them. You smiled gently at the sight, feeling dreadfully single with all of the love in the room, but grateful that you could see so many people look so content and in love with their significant other.

An elbow could suddenly be felt in your side, pulling you from your thoughts to instead be met with gorgeous green eyes and a bold red smirk.

“Penny for your thoughts?” She leaned in, curiosity clouding her mind.

“Nothing much up there really.” You glanced back at the dance floor quickly. “I’m just happy to see everyone so happy.”

Natasha followed your direction of where you were looking, an idea soon popped into her head. She was going to ask you to dance.

Her mouth opened to speak, but as if it was done on purpose, a ‘screech’ echoed in the ballroom, catching everyone’s attention, including taking yours away from hers.

“We’re taking a break from dancing for a minute folks, It’s time for the bride to throw the bouquet!” He announced, soon followed by shrieks and the sound of feet padding on the wooden floor, women all gathering in a small bunch, huddled together as if their lives depended on it as the men all returned to their seats, shaking their heads at the commotion.

Not really wanting to take part, you turned back around again.

“Sorry Nat, what were you-”

“Y/N!” Your head fell as you were interrupted by a very excited Maximoff.

“Y/N! C’mon! We need to do the bouquet toss!” She started to pull you up, refusing to listen to any excuse you could possibly conjure up to avoid having to take part.

Giving the team a desperate look, hoping someone will help you escape, you’re instead met with encouraging and amused faces, including Natasha’s a clear indication that not a single person was going to help you. Traitor’s.

With a half serious eye roll, you quickly grabbed your glass of champagne and kicked off your heels, heading towards the group of screaming women basically crawling on top of one another when the bride was barely up on the ‘stage’ yet. You let Wanda wander off into the group but remained towards the back, sipping from your glass and sending the occasional sneaky glare towards your table.

“You guys ready?” The bride yelled, only to be met with more screams and a faint chorus of ‘yes’ heard among it as they all threw their hands higher. Wanda saw you were just stood there, and subtly used her powers to raise your hand, earning loud laughs and cheers from the Avengers, taking great joy in the scene unfolding in front of them.

“Okay! Three...Two..”

You kept your arm up, pretending to be enthusiastic about the toss, when you realistically didn’t really expect much from these kinds of traditions. What you definitely hadn’t expected, was for your figure to stumble backwards as you suddenly felt petals and stems in your palm, a faint feeling of silk brushing against your thumb as your fingers wrapped around the item.

You almost spat out your champagne, eyes widening in shock as you looked to see the arrangement of flowers in your grip, looking up to see women both disheartened and elated at your catch. How the hell had you managed that? You were literally the farthest person away, and on your own! You must’ve been set up. Okay, a bit of a stretch, but still!

“WOOO, Y/L/N IS GETTING MARRIED!”

“WHO’S THE LUCKY SOMEONE Y/N?”

“Y/N CAUGHT THE FLOWERS, Y/N CAUGHT THE FLOWERS.”

The bride noticeably laughed at your friend’s cheers, she hadn’t meant to throw it that far back, her arm just kinda went full force, but seeing the reaction it caused, she didn’t regret it. She didn’t even regret it when she saw the look of embarrassment on your face, as it was soon replaced with a contagious beam as you walked towards them again, a very proud Wanda in tow,

“Guys! Guys! I’m not even in a relationship! I highly doubt i’m the next woman in this room to get married.” You joked

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure.” Sam laughed “Romanoff, you got an engagement ring handy?” He yelped as a peanut from the centre of the table was thrown at him, and of course with being a trained assassin, Nat had hit him right in the centre of his forehead, earning a dramatic noise of pain to leave his mouth.

These guys will be the death of you.

__________________

After some teasing, the room had filled once again with happy couples dancing, now including some you were very familiar with, one being a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist and his CEO wife, and another being an Asgardian with his Midgardian girlfriend, both gently moving side to side in time with the music.

Letting out a content sigh, you were met once again with the flowers, however, this time, they weren’t on the table, but were held by a gorgeous woman in a flawless navy dress.

“So, I know we aren’t a couple, but, would the future bride like to dance?” She asked, you let out a content sigh, pretending to think it over for a minute.

“Y’know what, I would, thank you for your kind offer.” You took the hand she’d held out for you and led you to the dance floor. While her hands went to your waist, gently tugging you closer, your arms went around her neck, hands interlocking behind her as you, like the others you’d admired all even, swayed.

You’re unsure when it happened, much like a time before, but your head had made its way onto your dance partner's shoulder, your body following suit as it left no room between the two of you, though you weren’t complaining. Neither was the fellow Avenger.

It was peaceful for a period of time, the only sound being the slow music and a quiet chatter of people across the floor. It wasn’t long before you heard the red head above you whisper in your ear once again.

“You really do look amazing tonight, Y/N.” You raised your head so it was directly opposite hers, sending her an appreciative gaze.

“That future fiance of yours is lucky.” She winked.

“Hilarious” You scoffed, fully aware of her humorous tone.

“I know, sometimes I amaze even myself with my jokes.”

“Well, it really is funny, because I honestly don’t see myself getting married anytime soon.” Nat’s eyebrows raised in what could almost be described as confusion.

“And why is that? Do you not want to get married?” Her hands started grazing up and down your waist, like she was comforting you, but really she was bracing herself for what was incoming.

“No, no it’s not that. I just..”

“Just?”

“I don’t think the person i’m interested in, is necessarily interested in me.” Her heart dropped. So you did have someone of interest. She pushed the sinking feeling to the side quickly so that she could respond.

“Right, and why is that?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen them make a move. I thought it’d be obvious. I think it has been to some others.” Your eyes wandered, lingering for longer than what was probably appropriate, on Natasha’s plump lips, wondering if you’d ever get to experience what it’d be like to feel them on yours.

This time, Natasha didn’t miss it. She would’ve blamed it on alcohol, saying that she must’ve just imagined it, but she had only consumed a few drops all evening, being too entranced by you didn’t leave much room for hydration. She hadn’t been more thankful, because it made a light bulb go off in her head as the pieces came together in her head of who you were referring to. She didn’t make a move the other night. It was obvious to the team. How could she have been so blind?

You didn’t see it coming, even when your chin was held in her grasp and you saw her face leaning in towards yours, the reality only hitting you when you finally felt what you’d been wanting to feel for the last months, right now. Your surroundings had just disappeared, the only thing that was running through your head, was the way her lips were moving against yours, and the way her lips tasted faintly of vanilla, and how she smelled like her floral perfume she wore for special occasions.

Whooping and cheering brought you both back from your bubble with just the two of you, your head falling just below her chin, her hand stroking your back as you could feel her chuckle bubbling where your head lay. Well, hid. Her arms had muffled their comments, but you had an idea of what they were, probably a mixture of ‘finally!’, ‘i knew it!’ and you’re almost certain you heard a ‘You owe me 20 bucks.’, that one making you shake your head.

Remaining in your hiding spot, that wasn’t very well hidden, but was keeping your bright red face to yourself, a pair of familiar lips lingered right beside your head.

“So, about that bouquet..”

You weren’t getting married, but by the end of the night, you definitely didn’t feel so dreadfully single as you had earlier.

taglist: @the-dumbass-that-throws-knives

[likeitloveitblogit]

Just Hold Me

I had a dream that got stuck in my brain, so I decided to turn it into a Loki x fem!reader fanfic. Here it is. Please be gentle this is the first but of my writing I've shared.

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader

Summary: After a rough battle fighting with the Avengers you skip the party to recover in your room at the Avengers tower. There you're visited by a drunk Thor and a comforting Loki.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warning: non consensual kissing, mention of assault, pain, mention of death, they all need therapy

What to expect: Me turning a dream into a Loki fluff therapy session.

From your room in the Avengers tower you could still hear the sounds of the party. Another victory for the team meant another raging party to celebrate. You loved a good party, but you had taken a few too many hits during the mission and had chosen to head back to your room.

A knock sounded at your door, "Y/N, are you there?" You heard the gruff voice of Thor.

The god of thunder and his brother Loki had become members of the team after defeating the Dark Elves in London. There had been a drunken night when Loki confessed to you he had considered faking his own death and stealing the throne of Asgard. But Loki had chosen to help fight, winning the battle and the approval of the Avengers. Not everyone had accepted them completely, but you understand that people were capable of change and had become friends with the pair.

"Y/N?!?" Thor called again, pounding a little harder on the door.

You rise from your bed and walk to the door, opening it you find a very clearly drunk Thor. It took a great deal of drinking to get the god drunk. You chuckle thinking about how much he must have consumed, but then notice that his eyes are full of tears.

"Thor, what's wrong?"

"Can I come in?"

Normally you didn't let anyone into your room. You were a fairly open person, happy to share, but your room was your safe place to get away and recharge. Standing there, leaning slightly against your door frame Thor looked completely broken, so you open the door and gesture for him to enter. Leaving the door open you follow Thor into the room.

You weren't sure how to handle having a guest in your room. But Thor walked over and sat on your bed, like he owned the place. "I'm sorry to bother you, I just, I was at that party and everything was good. You know we had that Asgardian wine brought in, so much better than anything here on Midgard. But then I saw a woman in the crowd that looked just like her. And I thought, I don't know, I thought maybe she had only faked it, maybe she'd just been lost and now she'd come to find me. I ran over to her, but the woman was just some stranger."

From your spot learning against the wall you asked, "Who do you mean? Jane?"

"Ha, I've lost her too. I seem to lose everyone I care about. But no. I thought I saw my mother"

That broke your heart. That same drunken night when Loki had confessed thinking of faking his own death, you two had also talked about Frigga's death. Unsure how to comfort the god then you had sat with Loki, holding his hand while he cried. Loki had been so close with Frigga, a part of Loki had changed when the guard had delivered the news of her death. Being in prison unable to even attend the funeral had stirred a desire to be a better person in Loki.

Even though you had seen Loki's grief, somehow Thor had seemed stronger, less affected, but Frigga was his mother, too. The loss of a parent is a terrible thing to deal with no matter how strong of a person you might appear to be. And clearly alcohol made the Asgardians emotional wrecks, because here now was the god of thunder sitting on your bed, body racking with sobs.

You sat down next to Thor, reaching to take his hand. Instead Thor pulled you into a crushing hug. Your first instinct was to pull away from the pain, you had really taken a beating in that fight. But Thor was your friend and he was hurting inside, so you relaxed. Rubbing circles on his back, you whispered "it's ok, you're ok" while you let him cry on your shoulder. The two of you sat like that for a long while before Thor released his hold on you.

You were about to ask Thor if he was feeling better, when he looked down at you and leaned in to kiss you. A million thoughts ran through your brain all at once. Fear struck you the strongest, and you scrambled away, backing up until your back was against the headboard. "What are you doing?"

"Um, kissing you," Thor said as he crawled toward you, hovering over you he leaned to try and kiss you.

"Well, stop it" you put your arms in front of your face trying to push him away. "Stop it, stop it, stop it"

Thor's strong arms easily push your own hands out of the way. But just as Thor leaned in towards you, he was ripped from on top of you.

Frightened, you look up to see Loki shoving Thor away, placing himself between you and Thor. "The lady told you to stop. What has gotten into you brother?"

"You don't know anything stupid brother, just leave us alone" Thor lunges for Loki, but Thor is still far too intoxicated to stand a chance in a fight. Loki easily pushes back and Thor nearly crashes into the wall.

Before Thor can lunge again Loki summons a pair of daggers and points then at Thor. "Brother you're drunk. You need to calm down. I don't want to hurt you, but if you try to hurt Y/N, I'll have no choice."

"Brother you wouldn't dare."

Loki points the daggers more directly at Thor "I don't know what is happening here but you know that I will do anything to defend a lady's honor."

"Oh, so you're just such a hero now? A perfect little prince charming? You're not defending anything. You're just jealous because Y/N invited me into her room and not you."

You stand up, careful to stay behind Loki. "Thor, nothing was going to happen between us. You came to me, crying and I offered you a hand to hold because I knew you missed your mother. You hugged me and I let you because you are my friend. But that's it. You are my friend and I don't want any more than that. You should thank Loki for keeping you from doing something you'd have regretted."

"You think I'd regret kissing you?"

"No, I think you'd regret kissing someone who didn't want to be kissed. You'd regret taking advantage of someone you cared about."

"I, I thought you'd want to kiss me"

"You buffoon, not everyone wants to have their face crushed in by your giant head."

"Hush Loki," you walk toward Thor, Loki tries to pull you back behind him but you touch his arm gently, and step forward. "Thor you know I do care about you, but I don't feel that way about you. Look, I know you have had a lot to drink tonight. And you have a lot of emotions running through you. I mean you thought you saw your mother, that has to be really hard to deal with. But you made a mistake."

"I thought, I just. Uh, I'm sorry"

"I know. Right now I think it is best if you go back to your room, get some sleep, and we can talk more in the morning, once you're sober."

"But,"

"You heard her brother. She is giving you a very generous offer. If you don't accept and leave now, I will make you. And I won't be nice about it."

With a final look at you, Thor leaves your room.

Once Loki is sure that Thor is gone, he sets his daggers down and turns to you. You register that he chose to set them down rather than magic then away, but chart it away as a question for later.

Approaching you, hands raised like you are an animal he is afraid to spook Loki asks, "Y/N, are you ok?"

"Yes, yes. I'm fine." Which is a lie, you're anything but ok. Unsteady on your feet, you nearly collapse.

Loki reaches to catch you and leads you to sit on the bed, "oh Y/N, what did he do to you? I'll kill him if he has hurt you."

"Thank you, but I'm actually just a little worse off than I thought from that fight today. All this has just made me extra aware of how tired I am."

"I'll go get Banner or Strange, or one of the others."

"No," you reach and grab onto his arm.

He looks down at the way your hands tremble as they hold onto his arm. "But, Y/N, you are unwell."

"I'm not sick. I'm not injured, well not more than normal after a fight. I'm just tired. Honest."

"Well then I'll leave you to rest"

But you only hold more tightly, "please don't"

"Don't what?" His breath catches as he looks down into your eyes.

"Please don't leave me. I don't, I don't want to be alone right now."

"Ok, I'll stay." Loki sits next to you, shifting his arm to take your hand. You rest your head on his shoulder and look at the interlocking of your fingers with his.

"Thank you."

"Thor is a buffoon, but I don't think he meant to harm you. He's not used to anyone not wanting him. Not that what he did was ok. I'm not trying to say it was ok."

"Loki, I know. I understand that he was hurting. And I guess I'm a beacon of comfort and he mistook that for romantic attraction. Honestly I think he would have stopped once he realized what he was doing. But I'm still so glad you were there."

Despite Loki's comforting hold, and the circles he was tracing with his long thumb, your hands still shook. "Y/N is there something more bothering you?"

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes. "When I saw your brother crawling towards me, I got so scared. I didn't see Thor, my friend. I saw that crazy guy from the factory today."

You could feel the moment the switch clicked and rage burned in Loki, "Wait did something happen? I don't remember a guy. Did this guy…, did he …, do something to you? I will end him."

"Oh Loki, my sweet murderous Loki. You actually already did."

"What?"

"You probably don't even remember, it was the heat of the battle. I'd gone in to clear the next room when I got knocked down and bumped my head. When I woke up, one of the baddies was dragging me by my ankle into the office, muttering about a sweet reward. How much fun he was going to have with me. He was reaching for me when you stormed in. I don't think you even saw me behind the desk, but you grabbed the guy before he could touch me. I didn't see what you did to him, but I heard it and it sounded very bloody."

"Oh gods, Y/N, I had no idea you were there in the back office. That guy looked deranged, even if we hadn't all been given orders to kill on sight I would have killed that man. If I'd known you were there I'd have made sure you were ok."

"I hid under the desk until you'd left and then I ran straight back to the jet. I felt so bad for not helping more with the fight, but…"

"Y/N, no one would ever blame you for running. That's not something anyone should have to face. Oh gods, and then my stupid brother had to come in and loom over you."

"He didn't know."

"No but that doesn't mean it wasn't terrifying, just the same."

You can't find the right words, and simply give a small nod. After a second of silence the question pops back into your brain. "Why did you leave your daggers on my nightstand? Why didn't you magic then away like you normally do?"

"Oh, uh, I was going to offer to let you borrow them. Just in case Thor tried to come back and visit."

"That's really sweet, but I've never been good with knives. I don't know if I'd even know what to do with them."

"Hmm well is there anything I can do to make you feel safer?"

There was a moment when you thought about saying, no. Telling Loki you'd be safe with his daggers, and sending him back to his room. But you couldn't do it. You could not send Loki away. Not when he felt like the only safe thing in the world. A breath of air after you'd been drowning all night. So you asked what you really wanted, not caring that it made you feel vulnerable.

"Can you hold me?"

"Are you sure you want that?"

"Yes I'm sure. I mean if you don't want to, I won't make you."

Loki gingerly wraps his arms around you, until you squeeze him half to death and he returns with a proper hug. Still holding you he says "I just didn't know if you'd want to be touched after… today and then my brother"

"You are not a brutish villain and you are not your brother. Do not take this as anything but a compliment, but right now the fact that you're not a big oversized muscle man is really comforting. And well neither men got the chance to do anything because of you."

"Y/N, I am so sorry you had to go through all of this. But I'm really happy that you find me comforting. I have done some terrible things that I deeply regret. And I've been afraid for so long that I'd never be able to find someone who felt safe around me."

"Everyone in this tower has done things that they can't take back. Things they regret. Including myself." You breathe in the scent of Loki, winter frost mixed with leather and metal, wondering when that scent had become so comforting to you. "But for right now, your arms feel like home and I don't want to ever leave."

"I will be here to hold you as long as you need."

"I'm going to take you up on that offer, because I might have a concussion, so you're going to have to watch me to make sure I don't die while I sleep."

"Humans are far too fragile."

"That we are. But that's an issue to deal with another day. Right now I just need you to hold me." You whisper as you lie yourself down, pulling Loki down with you. Carefully he wraps his arms around you pulling your little spoon body against his own big spoon body. Listening intently to your breathing as you drift asleep, Loki decides that he never wants to stop holding you.

[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.  

[eclectickss]

Make Me Feel Special (1/2)

Pairing: Milf!Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Warnings: Mommy issues/kink, sexual implications, major age gap (reader is of age)

Summary: You are angry at your best friend for turning down the opportunity for something that you would give your life for: a mother.

Word Count: 3K?

Link to Part 2

A/N: Not grammar checked at all! A blurb gone big!(still at writers block on PGATW) But requests are open! I’ve never done one before but i’m willing to try. <3

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You entered the apartment and placed your keys in the dish and jacket on it’s hook, making your way into the kitchen to place your to-go food in the fridge. Jane sat at the island on the computer you shared, and you smiled.

“Hey, I picked up sandwiches for dinner. Hope that’s cool.”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Your best friend didn’t look up, but it didn’t really bother you. Well, she was your only friend, but still.

You and Jane had been sharing the apartment for years now, The two of you working a good job to afford it and making a livable income. You had been close since high-school, due to your similar social status, but beyond the two of you, nobody was too good at making friends.

From what she had told you, Jane’s mom wasn’t around much when she was growing up. Jane was a teen pregnancy, and ever since she was born, her mom made no time for her daughter. Agatha, was her name.

Agatha came from a wealthy family, though. Her parents (Jane’s grandparents) wouldn’t allow her to use the family money for her child, much less anything else. She struggled with Jane, and therefore the two of them were ever close.

Agatha’s parents died when Jane was in high-school, so her mom inherited their wealth, but their relationship was past salvageable. At least in Jane’s eyes, it was.

Jane was always telling you about how bad of a mom Agatha was and about how you were lucky that you didn’t have to deal with someone like her. Jane didn’t understand though. You would had given anything to have someone like Agatha. Even if she wasn’t around to much, it was still better than nobody at all.

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You were now setting the table for two as you pulled the sandwiches out of the fridge, also finding some strawberries to place at the table. You now were looking through the pantry for chips when you heard a knock at the door and Jane moving around to answer it.

“Mom?!” You heard at the door while you still had your head buried in the pantry. Your eyes widened at the name, never expecting to hear it in your life (in that context, at least). You thought Agatha was out of the picture. “What are you doing here?” You stayed silent as you listened from around the corner.

“Well, I think it’s long overdue that we had a talk, Jane, honey.” She sounded a little more raspy than you were expecting, but that doesn’t say much about someone who used to be an addict.

“We don’t do that, Mom. Anyways, now isn’t a good time.” You heard your friend sigh. The woman was your literal mother... you could at least give her five minutes, you thought.

“I want to start, honey. Please just let me in?”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“C’mon, kiddo.” She begged, and you felt a little bad for how Jane was acting. You know her mom wasn’t a great person, but she was still her mom.

You never got to have one of those.

“If this is just you on another one of your sobriety stunts...”

“I’m really trying this time, Jane! I know I fucked up, baby, but please.”

“Fine.” Your friend grumbled. You heard increasing footsteps and your heart raced as you were about to meet the source of Jane’s complaints and drama.

You hurried to sit at the kitchen counter before the two women caught you snooping, but your gaze snaps up just in time to see Agatha Harkness walk into the room.

Jane might have always mentioned that her mother was any and all variations of a bitch, but she failed to mention how attractive the woman was. Her messy brown hair sat on top of an old purple cardigan and worn out jeans, followed by a pair of well-used slip-on shoes. The look together was not extremely flattering, but Agatha somehow pulled it together in a way that made your stomach turn. Your eyes raked her down, but you think she caught you when you met her gaze again. She smirked softly.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you had guests!” She says as her own eyes follow your figure, and you wonder if she’s just doing it to mock you or flatter you. She looks back up with a glimmer in her eye, and you decide on the latter option. Your face goes red, but you try and brush her actions off, not wanting to mistake it for anything else.

“Didn’t I say that this was a bad time?” Jane grumbled.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Harkness. My name is YN.” You smiled as you held out your hand.

“Call me Agatha, darling.” She stared into your eyes. “It’s so nice to finally meet one of Jane’s friends.” You panic under her gaze.

“We were just about to sit down for dinner, if you want to join us. We don’t have any food for you, but-“

“Oh, thank you... I was hoping I could talk to Jane in private, though.” She walked over to the table and took a seat.

“Whatever you have to say to me, you can say it to YN, too.” The two of you joined Agatha at the table.

A long moment of awkward silence passsed between the three of you before your guest finally spoke up.

“I want you in my life, Jane. For real this time.”

Nobody says anything, and dishes stop clattering.

“I know I shoulda done this earlier... hell, I shoulda done this when I got claim to my parent’s money, but I want to look after you. I never got the chance to do that when you were young... cause of all the drinking and working... but I can do that now. I’m ready.”

Jane sat with her mouth open and a half eaten sandwich forgotten on her plate.

“No, Mom, you shoulda done this from the moment I was conceived. You don’t get a second chance with me. I’m not giving you a second chance, or a third or a fourth or whatever number you wanna give yourself. You wanna know why? It’s because I already did that. And you let me down every single time.”

Agatha looked a little speechless.

“Fine, then.” She sighed. “I won’t bother you again.” But it hurt you to watch a daughter turn away her mother, when that was an opportunity that you wanted so badly. “Is it alright if I stay the night, though? It’s a long drive back to my place.”

Jane rolled her eyes, knowing that her mother was being dramatic, but didn’t want to put up with any more of her antics. “I better not see you in the morning. YN can get blankets for the couch.”

-

-

-

“Hey, Jane,” You sighed as you entered her room.

“Hey, YN. I’m sorry you had to deal with the shit show that is my mother. I can’t believe she just walked in here and expected me to accept her pathetic invitation.”

“No, it’s ok. She’s not that bad with me.”

“Well she just met you. I just don’t understand why she thought showing up unannounced would magically make me want a mother again. It’s fucked up.” Jane said, but you couldn’t sit there and watch her tear down something that you wish you had.

“Yeah,” you mumbled and rushed out of her room before she could say anything else.

You walked into the kitchen and grabbed a glass, then headed over to the sink for some tap water. The cool liquid rushed down your throat as you held down your tears, thankful that nobody was around.

“Hey, Honey,”

Shit. You forgot that Agatha was on the couch.

You turn around to see her meeting your gaze, although her eyes quickly found the way to the rest of your body.

“You doing alright, babygirl?” The nickname made you heat up. She spoke with concern and care; something that Jane chose to ignore, which made you feel bad for Agatha. You wish that Jane wouldn’t take for granted what her mother was trying to offer her.

“Uh... yeah... I guess.” You sigh, hopping up to sit on the counter as you watch the other woman fill her own glass at the sink. “Jane is just... being a little hard right now.” You chose your words carefully, not wanting to lose the trust of your friend but also wanting to gain the trust of another.

“What do you mean?” You realize the situation you have put yourself in.

“It’s just... I didn’t have a mom at all growing up. Or a dad. I had my shitty uncle... until he tossed me into the foster system. I had it real rough... and it still kinda is... but Jane has been helping. That’s why we’re friends at least. She might view me as a charity project, but i’m desperate, I guess.”

“What does all of this have to do with Jane being hard, hon?” She leaned onto the counter across from you.

“She didn’t really have a mom, either... growing up. No offense.”

Agatha shrugged. “I know.”

“But now that she’s given an opportunity to have one, she turns it down... and it makes me jealous. Mad. Angry.” You pause. “I know I’ll never get the chance at a mom, but she has one. And fuck, I would give so much to have that.”

“To have someone like me? A recovering drunk who treated their teen pregnancy like a joke?”Agatha sighed into her hands, but her words meant so much more to you than she may ever know.

“Yeah. To have someone like you. Someone who cares.” At that, she looked up with a new light in her eyes, but you don’t meet her gaze. You don’t want her to see the blush or desire written on your face, so instead, you pull a cigarette out from your jacket pocket.

She watches you as you hop down from the counter to get the lighter out of the junk drawer, paying attention to the way your body moves. You notice how her eyes follow you, but you don’t call her out on it, knowing you would do the same if the roles were reversed.

“You want a hit?” You lift your eyebrow as you raise the smoke to meet her gaze. A glint of humor is caught on her face, and you smirk.

“Sure... why not.” She says as you join her in leaning up against the counter. You bring the cigarette up to your mouth and click the lighter.

“So,” Agatha starts again, both of you a few puffs in. “How did you end up here with Jane?”

“Uhh... we met senior year of high-school. I was fucked up. Shit grades. Wasn’t going to graduate. Drug money to pay off... no job. Jane used your money to pay off my debt. She found me a job. Tutored me. Like I said, I felt like a charity project. But at least I graduated. We both work now and pay for this place together. Maybe it’s not great but we’re both better off than we were a few years ago.”

“Why didn’t she accept anything I tried to give her? Did she tell you?” Agatha was prying, but you didn’t mind.

“You mean after high-school? She didn’t want any help from you. In her words exactly... ‘She wasn’t there for me for the first 18 years of my life, so why should she help out now...’”

“And what do you think about that?”

“I didn’t grow up poor, Agatha. I grew up with nothing. I would have taken any of your offers in a heartbeat, no matter how guilty they made me feel.”

“Good girl.” She nearly whispers, and you turned to face her, but you couldn’t make anything out of the expression written on her face. Your own skin was hot and something was burning in your core, and you didn’t know what to think.

“I’m sorry... what did you just say?” You watched as she put the cigarette out, now giving you her undivided attention.

“So tell me, honey, do you have a boyfriend? I’m assuming a pretty thing like you would have one. Tell me about him.” Part of you wondered where this conversation was going, but the other part assumed that she already knew which direction you leaned in.

“Uhh... not my type.” You stared at her with curiosity.

“So you got a girlfriend, then?” Her new confidence shocked you a little bit.

“Uhh... no.” You tilted your head, and she seemed to pick up on your confusion.

“Good girl.” Your mouth was dry. “You see, mommy doesn’t want you having a girlfriend... no, she wants you all to herself.”

Your eyes widen in shock, but your core aches and cheeks burn. You stare at the woman next to you as a hand slides onto your thigh.

“Oh come on, darling. You said you wanted a mommy, baby. I wanna take care of you. I see the way you look at me. Don’t deny you want me too.” She spins around and pins you to the counter, and you audibly gulp.

“But- Jane.” You whine, already being driven crazy by the proximity of Agatha’s body.

“Jane is kicking me out, baby girl. And you can come live with me. Mommy has a pretty house, honey. I can feed you, clothe you... make you feel good. I can make you feel special.” And God, your soul was ready to leave your body. You wanted this. You could hardly think as her soft lips grazed over the skin on your neck, and a soft moan escaped your throat. Her tongue and teeth pulled at the skin just below your ear, trying to pull a response out of you.

“Mom!” The both of you jumped at the third voice in the room. The two of you turn to Jane in shock. “What the FUCK are you doing!” She rushed over to the two of you, pulling Agatha off of your body. “You can’t just come into my life and try to fuck my friends after someone rejects you!” She pushes her mom back and turns to you.

“Oh my god, YN, are you ok? I cannot believe that she tried to touch you. God, that makes me sick.” She hugged you, but you still couldn’t say anything.

“Jane, honey, you don’t know-“

“Shut up! I can’t even look at you! Get out of my house, mom. I never want to see you again.” Jane’s face turned red with anger.

“Honey-“ Agatha met eyes with you, but you didn’t know what to do.

“Leave! Now.” She seethed and stomped back to the bedroom, expecting Agatha to be gone when she got back.

The woman in front of you moved silently while you still processed what just happened. When she returned with her belongings, she gave you a note, but headed out without saying a word.

After a few minutes, you finally looked at the piece of paper in hand.

If you ever make up your mind...

1286 Lincoln St NW

(673) 867-5309

-Agatha

-

-

-

“YN, are you sure you’re alright? I really never would have expected my mom to touch you or even make you feel uncomfortable. I’m so sorry.” Jane sighed as she sat on the bed.

“I’m fine, J. You don’t have to apologize on her behalf.” You replied, sitting on the chair opposite her.

“I mean what even happened. Why did she do that?”

“Umm... I don’t know. We were just talking and then she started that.”

“What we’re you talking about?”

“Oh, I was just explaining how we met.” You tentatively answered.

“YN you didn’t have to tell her that. I know it’s personal for you, I can’t believe she forced you to talk about it.

“I uhh- actually didn’t mind. I wasn’t forced.”

“Then why would you trust her with something like that? You know how she is.”

“Because...” You thought about your next words carefully. “She cares.” Jane scoffs.

“That must be a different woman we’re talking about, YN. My mom is a selfish bitch who only cares for herself.”

That tipped the iceberg for you.

“You know, Jane? I understand that you and her might never be besties like she wants you to be, but that doesn’t mean you get to fuck her over now that she’s trying.” Your friend looks up at you in shock.

“Well she fucked me over my entire life, so I don’t see why I can’t do the same.”

“Because! Jane! She’s changed! It’s only right that you give her one more shot in your life!”

She took a pause.

“I’m sorry, YN, are you defending my MOM? After everything she’s done to me, and everything i’ve done for you?!”

“Yes. It is sick watching you throw something away that I can only dream of.” You spat angrily.

“Geez, YN. Just- get out of my fucking house. Keep your rent money for the month. Pack your shit and get the hell out of here.” She nearly ran out of the room.

But you weren’t surprised. In fact, you expected this the moment you chose your side.

-

-

-

The knocks resonate through the large door attached to the even larger house. Agatha has money.

You thought Jane was over exaggerating a little bit, but now you understood that she wasn’t. You sighed as your cab sped away, and now all you could do was wait.

Agatha opened the door, slightly shocked to see you, but nevertheless happy.

“Hey baby, what is it?”

You took a deep breath, taking in the sight of the woman who stood in front of you.

“I want you to make me feel special, mommy.”

-

-

-

link to part 2

[jesslockwood]

Photo Opportunities

Word Count: 2.7k

Pairing(s): Tom Holland x Actress!Reader

Warnings: FLUFF with a slightly (barely) suggestive sentence towards the end 

A/n: damn I can't write anything except actress reader? smh but this is for @londonspidey ‘s sit-com Writing challenge (ik I'm early lol) but I was so excited I wrote the whole thing in one go lmao the prompt is bolded!

Calling yourself a fan was an understatement. You were obsessed with anything and everything marvel. And oddly enough, you could after today say you were in the club. It wasn’t a public fact yet, until later that day actually, at the Marvel panel at comic con that you were being announced as the actress for the character, Felica Hardy and no one else knew except for the people who cast you and your best friend who signed an NDA. You were technically still a known actress for your roles on television mainly as Thalia on the PJO Disney + series and a couple of still decently sized films. 

You were currently wrapping up signing autographs for fans of yours for today. Your team had planned it out so it wasn’t suspicious that you were at the con with a few of your castmates scattered doing other junkets and press so people wouldn’t guess who they were acting as the cast for new marvel projects. 

You had been planning to go meet your best friend, who wasn’t in the industry before getting a text that she bought you both a photo-op with someone and she wouldn’t tell you who. You couldn’t only assume it was a marvel actor that you would indeed, freak out. 

Y/b/n: btw I brought you a mask. I get the wig lol.

You: please tell me it doesn’t cover my full face. Also, how are we posing?

Y/b/n: I bought as many photo ops as I could so a lot of different ones, And if I tell you the poses it’ll spoil it.

You: is this with the money I pay you to be my assistant with? Lol fine I’m omw with security

Y/b/n: maybe… 

Y/b/n: and they’ll need more backup security for who we’re getting a photo op with than you do for your hellfire.

You roll your eyes before taking your stuff and exiting the booth, before heading out the backways with staff security and your detailed security for the day. You only had security because you wanted to explore the con when you weren’t needed.

Your best friend had also been your assistant for the con weekend, but you didn’t want her to be confined to you the whole three days so when she could, you would let her explore it, at least she could experience it as a fan, right?

When you made it to that part of the building, you wanted to wait in line with her, which your security didn’t agree to so she texted you when there were about five people ahead of her. She was one of the last in line, with you asking her to be kind, so others would get their chance to be first with whomever it was. 

When she texted you and your detailed exit, getting a few stares and others taking their phones out to either take photos or tweet, you wave at them before joining your best friend in line.

“Here,” she says before handing you none other than a black cat mask before she puts on a red wig. 

You glare at her slightly trying to not make a scene, before putting it on. 

“I’m assuming you're Mary Jane?” you laugh figuring out that it had to be someone from Spider-Man.

“How’d you- never mind.” She laughs with you.

She then explains how she’s going to pose for your five photo ops, joking in between how she should “get a raise for this”.

You catch sight of him before sucking in your breath. This was either going to go down amazingly or terribly, there was no in-between with you. 

“Excuse Me, are you Y/n Y/l/n?”

You turn around and are met by some fans who were standing in line behind you.

“I am! How’s your con going?” you ask politely to the two of them.

“It's going amazing! We love you as Thalia! Could we maybe get a picture? Only if it’s okay?”

“Of course! Thank you for supporting me!” your best friend grabs their phone to take the photo, before you take off the mask, and stand between the two fans, and your best friend snaps a few photos. 

“Thank you so much! And Are you fans of Tom?”

You start slowly walking back to catch up to the line. 

“Yeah, I love him as Spiderman, but I also enjoy his other roles. He's very talented, I'd love to work with him one day!” 

“Have you seen him in Uncharted?  We love Him as Nathan drake!”

“I have, he was amazing per usual! How are you two posing with him?”

They show you their innovative pose. You laugh and tell them it's great before you have to wish them goodbye before heading up for your turn for the photo op. 

“How do we want to pose- hang on, I recognize you!”

You freeze slightly before your friend mouths for you to flirt. You look down at the mask in your hand before getting into character and saying “Of course you do Spidey, I'm always causing you trouble.” you put on the mask and wink. 

He seems slightly stunned, laughing, feeling like he’s seen you somewhere, not only because he found you extremely gorgeous, while in his peripheral vision he sees his brother/ assistant, Harry waving like a madman on the side. 

Your friend directs you both through the poses, first, one both him putting “webs” onto you as she looks over his shoulder, the second one, both of you kissing his cheeks, the third, all jumping in the air in your best superhero poses, the fourth one she gets a photo op alone and the last one she gives to you,

“Seriously, who are you?”

“Your Wildest dreams, baby,” you say, taking off the mask. 

Your best friend yells “freestyle” from the sidelines before Tom dips you, gently, with you shocked, holding the mask out with your free arm and the photo captures that moment. 

 He gently helps you stand back up fully, not before you drop the mask.

“Nice moves Spider-Man.”

“Not so bad yourself, Black Cat.”

You laugh before, taking off with your best friend, well more her dragging you to the printing station leaving the mask behind. Tom picks it up before shoving it in his back pocket to hopefully give back if he could find you. 

-

`You were sitting in the green room, trending on Twitter before you were actually supposed to be trending on Twitter, and god knows where else.  

Someone had snuck a video of you and Tom, up till him dipping you, and a video of you interacting with the fans in the line.

Your Y/b/n was currently reading off some tweets out loud

“‘A kind queen we stan.’  I agree, I also agree with ‘Date her if you can't date me tom!!!’.

‘THALIA AND PETER PARKER??? My two fandoms have collided.’ same, same. Oo this one says, ‘if she ain’t playing black cat I will sue marvel.’ I'm dying at the reply ‘She needs to post the photos or I'll sue her!’. This one’s funny, ‘she could squash him like a bug in heels but he liked his queen like that.’.”

She pauses watching you texting.

“Y/n? Y/n?”

“What? Sorry I was only half listening. I was texting my publicist. She said to stay on the DL until tonight. 

“Well we should get food, you haven't eaten since this morning.”

“By the way, your show has shot to number one on Disney +. Also, you have like three times the followers you had before, probably cause you're trending on every platform, even Tumblr!”

“Wow you should just become my social media manager now.” you joke trying to ease the joy yet weirded out feeling in your stomach.

“Does that come with a raise? Because after today I've spent way too much of what I'm paid.” she jokes back.

-

After finishing his photo ops Tom asked Harry who she was and to find out. By the time he finished autographs for the day, Tom and Harry walked to the panel room in the back for announcements, one that included him for the new Avengers movie, while Harry gave him the rundown.

“So she’s an actress, she plays Thalia on Disney plus’ Percy Jackson series, and that's her most known project. The other girl with her is her assistant best friend, and now she's trending everywhere. People dug up some old photos of her being a marvel/Spider-Man fan, so there's that. And she's here at the con for the rest of the weekend. She's doing photo ops tomorrow at one, and yes she's single from what I gather since you were looking at her like this.” he makes a weird face before tom smacks him.

“And plus you have time in your schedule to get a photo op with her, that is if you eat lunch quickly.”

That gave Tom an idea. 

“Harry I’m going to need you to book me one, oh and help me find a Spider-Man costume!” He says, before leaving harry to do ‘assistant’ work. entering the green room for the announcements, watching them announce a new movie.

“We are so excited to announce to the Marvel Universe, and spider-verse-” that perked tom’s ears, “-directed by Gina Prince-Bythewood, and today we are announcing our amazing Miss Felicia Hardy, please give a warm welcome to the stage, Your Black Cat!”

You suddenly emerged in an aisle way, dressed in all black with a leather jacket, black ankle boots, and of course black sunglasses indoors.

The music is marvel music until it suddenly changes after a recorded laugh from you into “I can’t be tamed by Miley Cyrus”.

You start owning the music while saying hi and touching fans’ hands. You decide to take off your sunglasses and throwing them to a fan, for them to keep, before getting on stage.

“What a Performance from the one the only Y/n Y/l/n!”

You laugh, being met with the loudest applause you had heard all con before being handed a Mic. 

“Thank you but I'm a terrible dancer.” You Joke.

Tom was staring at the screen stunned. You had been the black cat all along. You were in the marvel universe and spidey one,  so he'd definitely be seeing more of you. The hard part is that you seemed so genuine when you talked, interacted with fans and was no doubt, stunning. 

“Better close your mouth or the flies will get in.” Tom turns around to find the voice of none other than his friend slash bully, Sebastian Stan, along with Anthony Mackie.

“Looks like the kid has a crush!” Anthony laughs, pointing to the screen you were on.

“I-I don’t! I don’t even know her!” Tom tries to come to his own defense, hopelessly.

“She’s got you whipped already don’t even deny it.” Harry comes in, joining the teasing of one, Tom Holland.

“Maybe we can invite her out for drinks tonight, then fanboy over here can meet her, and then probably scare her off!” Anthony mentions.

“You haven’t looked on the internet? They’ve already met.” Seb says, before showing Anthony twitter. 

Anthony stands there slightly shocked before bursting into laughter.

“Well, she’s damn well a keeper for Tom since she obviously likes him.”

A staff member peaks their head in the green room to tell Tom he’s up next.

“Well, that’s my cue to leave you two!”

On the other hand, you were on an adrenaline high from being on stage, and seeing all the fans. You knew tomorrow was going to be crazy, as you expected people to book your photo op left and right since the announcement. 

You had decided to decline an offer from your fellow marvel universe castmates, Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie, which they so graciously told you that whenever you’re free, the offer still stood. 

You had gotten to your hotel room seeing your phone blowing up on the social media apps for the second time that day. 

You responded to the important stuff, before heading to bed, knowing it was going to be hectic.

-

You had been right, it was absolutely insane, the number of people who showed up. You had fully booked all your time slots for photo ops. You had seen so many people dressed up in marvel cosplay, ranging from Loki to Ironman, even some people dressed up as your character, which was wildly insane to see.

You had been nearing the end of the line and had enjoyed every moment with the fans, and you couldn’t wait for your autographing session later that day, to truly get a chance to talk to the fans and connect with them and how they felt about you being their beloved Black Cat. 

After a few more photos, posing how they wanted, you see a fully dressed, head to toe, mask and all, Spider-Man. You had seen some spider-mans but most took off their masks to snap a picture. The person was the last in line. 

“Hey Black Cat.” The southern American accented voice tells you, seeming very familiar. 

“Hey, Spider, what poses do you have up your sleeve?” you ask kindly.

“I bought a few, Cat.” they laugh.

“Okay, You can do whatever a spider can right?” you pull out a line out of the comics jokingly.

“I can do flips if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Is that some kind of nerd pick-up line? Because it’s only kind of working.” you laugh. 

“I really can, but this is one.”

He gets down on one knee, holding a black cat mask instead of a ring. The photographer captures the shocked expression on your face.

“I- Don’t- What- Spider I-” 

“Ow My feelings…” Suddenly their voice changes into a British accent before they pull off the mask to reveal-

“Tom?”

“I guess you don’t have a spidey sense darling?” The photographer captures the moment without warning eating the moment up. 

You laugh at that. 

“I guess you found out my true identity Spider. And it’s nice to officially meet you, Tom.”

He laughs, just as nervous as you, he notices he has gotten closer to you and a strand of hair loosely is blowing in your face, so naturally, he pushes it behind your ear. Another snap of the camera can be heard. 

“NOW KISS!” a voice belonging to your best friend yells from the side, mid-eating a churro.

You both laugh really hard at that.

The both of you calm down, slowly leaning lost in the moment. The camera snaps again. You both look at the photographer weirded out, and they just shrug.

“Wait can you actually do a flip?” you ask, pulling away, not wanting prying eyes aka the photographer, to pry in your business. 

“I can, though I’d show you later, maybe in the greenroom?”

“That sounds naughty, but, sure.” you joke around. 

He laughs before, you both take off from the area going to grab the photos.

-

After spending most of the day together when you could, you get Tom’s number, before heading back to your hotel room. He texts you as soon as you get back. 

Spider: I had fun today, minus finding our assistants making out.

You: we should ‘snog’ too, it’ll gross them out ;)

You: I had fun too btw. Are you leaving tomorrow?

Spider: lol we should. And yeah an early flight, 6 am to be exact. Hbu?

You: Yeah me too... another day another dollar lol

Spider: ill miss you, Cat.

You: stop talking like we’ll never see each other again lol. As a matter of fact, come to my room, we’re watching a movie!

Spider: alright, I’ll order snacks. 

  You sigh smiling at your phone. You haven’t felt this giddy in a long time.

Your phone pings with a few Instagram notifications.

Tomholland2013 has started following you.

Tomholland2013 has tagged you in a photo.

You open Instagram to find the photo of him “proposing” to you posted.

“Ow, my leg, my- feelings...Welcome to the Universe, Cat.” the photo is captioned. You decide to post, the photo of him dipping you.

“So what do you say, Spider? Wanna help me pull off the Heist of the Heist of the Century?” you caption it, Before getting comfortable to watch a movie. 

What an opportunity ;)

Tags:

@lolooo22 @webmeupspiderdaddy @harryhollandsgirlfriend @spideyspeaches @greenorangevioletgrass @queenofthepouges @sheranatic111 @keithseabrook27

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here! / Part 13 Here! / Part 14 Here!

Donate to Higher Ground HERE!

* “Everyone in school thought you were dead.”

* Jessica says bluntly as you walk down the pink streamer filled hallway

* you offer her a fake yawn and a smile.

* “My dad came by for a surprise visit.” She looks confused before her expression smooths

* “Oh your real dad, not Carlisle”

* Carlisle contacted his counterpart, Eleazer to tell him you were running away with a man 300 years your senior

* So of course Eleazer came running -after he probably had a spat with Carmen about who would handle this situation better- to Forks on the first flight he found

* Only to burst through the door to see you and Emmett playing kingdom hearts in the living room

* “Oh, I see the rumors have been vastly exaggerated.”

* Cue -figuratively- sweating Carlisle who takes a sip from his mug

* Since he was already here you figured you would take a few days off from school and show him around

* “Is there anything in particular you might want to see?”

* Edward and Carlisle are looking pretty smug thinking that they’ve already shown you everything of note in the area.

* “I’ve always wanted to see the space needle in Seattle.”

* They both falter when they hear that. All the things they’ve shown you are things humans wouldn’t be able to see, hidden meadows, waterfalls, underwater caverns

* They never thought to show you human landmarks. Eleazer nods a growing smile on his face

* “Seattle has a lot of museums that I’ve wanted to visit as well”

* Carlisle let’s out a sigh of relief, none of his kids would be caught dead at a museum outside of a field trip

* To their dismay and Eleazer’s delight your eyes sparkle

* “Can we go to the pop culture museum and the arboretum too?”

* You don’t even pack, Eleazer tells you you can just buy whatever you need when you get there. You do take a duffel bag full of blood bags though

* And then you’re gone, you leave care instructions for your animals with Edward and you and Eleazer drive off towards Seattle in the rented Mercedes he got at the airport

* “Is it just me... or do they look happier with Eleazer than they are with us.” Edward’s only talking to himself, but Carlisle hears and the oncoming doting parent verbal and mental sputter makes him regret saying anything at all

* “it’s okay Carlisle, I’m sure they’re happy here with us too.”

* You guys stay at a pretty upscale hotel downtown, in the penthouse

* “Are you here on a trip with your boyfriend?” The receptionist asks, and Eleazar straight up starts laughing

* “This is my dad.” You say with a straight face and you can tell the receptionist wants to die

* “I-I’m so sorry, we usually get couples this time of year.” Right, it’s almost Valentine’s Day. Makes sense.

* Still there’s something super gross about people thinking you’re romantically linked to Eleazer

* The penthouse is very nice. There’s an infinity pool on your balcony, and three different bedrooms.

* The trip is really fun, you have a -pretend- meal at the revolving restraint at the needle, and spend the rest of the week museum hopping

* “She feels so familiar....” you mumble to yourself as you gaze at a portrait of a woman with long dark hair

* “That’s Carmen” Eleazer tells you

* “What?!?”

* “She was popular with artists even before she turned, it’s always been a hobby of hers to model” You’re just glad it’s not a nude portrait

* You take super cheesy pictures at the natural history museum, and even better pics at the pop culture museum

* On one of your last nights in the city Eleazer took you to a laundromat

* “I know we’ve been running out of clothes, but I’m sure the hotel has a laundry service”

* Eleazer just grins, talking to the attendant, who takes him to a hidden door.

* Well this isn’t sketchy at all

* Eleazer takes your hand in his as he leads you down a long narrow hallway. When you teach the end there’s a pretty nice bar and what appears to be a jazz club

* “It’s a speakeasy, I thought it might be a little fun for our last day”

* Being beautiful has its perks because the waiter doesn’t even card you, just brings you your dink

* “So...Garrett huh?” You groan, and Eleazer smiles

* You knew this was coming

* “Don’t worry, I’m not like Carlisle, if you like someone I like them too.”

* Well at least he isn’t acting like a total freak about the whole thing

* “I am surprised someone like Garrett is more your flavor though” you raise an eyebrow.

* “In comparison to who?” Eleazer gives you a funny look

* “Edward of course”

* You almost spit out your drink

* “Oh, is this one of those situations where the three of you are a couple together?”

* You start coughing and the waiter brings you a glass of water

* “We’re not together!”

* “Well of course you and Garrett aren’t together yet-“

* “Edward and I aren’t dating.”

* Eleazer just looks at you like you told him you’re pregnant

* “That can’t be right” he mumbles and you sigh

* “Why would you think we were dating?” The jazz singer belts out a high note and Eleazer patiently waits for her to be done so he can talk again

* “Well you went with them to Forks, and when you came to visit last year with him we all just figured it had happened naturally”

* Besides, Eleazer see’s the way he looks at you.

* Like you’re the epitome of your gender, like there’s never been anyone like you and there never will be again

* “We all? The entire coven thinks that?” Your fingers thread through your hair.

* What does Tanya think about that? She must be feeling pretty smug what with that talk she gave you all those years ago about how you would eventually date Edward

* Edward probably knows and just doesn’t even care, the criminal probably thinks it’s funny

* Eleazar watches you have a breakdown, taking a small sip of his brandy. It looks like you haven’t realized the way you look at Edward yet

* You look at him like you don’t have a single doubt. You trust him unconditionally, you know exactly who he is and where he will be.

* You look at him like he’s home

* “This is so embarrassing” you mumble and Eleazer smiles

* He guesses it’s not time yet for you to realize your feelings. Maybe it’s for the best, he’s not as bad as Carlisle, but the thought of giving you away at your wedding makes his heart ache.

* “The best cure for embarrassment is alcohol, drink up.” He grins when you clink your glass against his before gulping down the contents of your drink.

* Who knows, maybe in a few years someone completely different will show up and sweep you off your feet.

* You do talk about something really important with Eleazer though

* “Eleazer when do you think Aro will send for me?”

* Eleazer stops mid motion, his glass halted halfway between the table and his mouth

* “If I’m being honest, I don’t think he will for many years” Eleazer has an awkward expression on his face. “I think he’s afraid of you”

* You sputter

* The great and powerful Aro?! Alive for 1000’s of years. AFRAID OF YOU?!?

* “Oh don’t look at me like that, try and think about it from his perspective.”

* Your power is on par with Janes, but unlike her over the decade you’ve been a vampire your power has only gotten stronger. Your body’s natural despair and your desire to be human feed off of each other, compounding on each other to make your power that much more potent

* The only difference is that now you’ve learned to hide it, keeping your emotions in check so others aren’t hurt

* There isn’t a person alive that stands a chance against you at your full potential. You’re the strongest known vampire

* “Chelsea can’t bind you to coven with her loyalty like she does the others,” Eleazer takes a sip of his drink. “his only choice is to let you come back on your own volition, otherwise he risks a war.”

* A war he wouldn’t win, on your own it was dicey, all of them against just you could go either way

* But you weren’t alone anymore, now you have Tanya, Kate, Irina, Carmen, Eleazer

* And Edward. You know without a second thought Edward would follow you into hell if you asked.

* “Saving any discovery of remarkable talent”

* A discovery like Bella

* You’re not 100% certain, but you’re pretty sure your powers don’t work on Bella, the same way Edward, Jane and Alec’s powers won’t work on her

* And if she can really spread her shield to others-

* You’re f*cked

* “but the chances of that are slim to none.” Eleazer reassures you

* You give him a reassuring smile

* “Salud” you raise you glass and he smiles

* “Salud” he grins as your glass clinks

* You weren’t expecting the week to go by so fast, or to be having as much fun as you did.

* You were pretty sad when the end of the week rolled around and Eleazer dropped you off home

* “He’ll be back before you know it” Edward says, his arm over your shoulders, giving your arm a comforting squeeze

* “Yeah I know, it still feels bad though”

* Edward doesn’t say anything, he just holds you a little closer

* You’re thankful to the Cullen’s for taking you in and giving you an opportunity you might not have had otherwise

* But they’re not your coven, they’re not really your family

* And so now you’re here, walking in a bright pink and red construction paper covered hallway next to Jessica who’s talking about Valentine’s Day

* Ah right, today’s Valentine’s Day

* “Do you think maybe...Mike bought me a carnation?” She asks twirling a strand of hair around her finger

* “I’m sure he did”

* You’re actually sure he bought one for Bella, but you’re hoping the courtesy extends to the whole friend group

* You bought all your friends valentines, and that includes the Cullen’s and everyone on the cheer team

* The money wasn’t the worst part, they were only a dollar each, the worst part was having to write notes for all of them, it wouldn’t have been so bad if the girl at the table wasn’t giving you a dirty look as you pretended to struggle through writing 30 cards

* “How much do you want to bet Bella gets the most flowers out of all of us?”

* You would bet the entire contents of your bank account, but you’re pretty sure Jess can’t match your bet

* “Well, she’s something new to look at, and boys are dumb”

* Jessica blows a strand of hair out of her face. You know she’s probably a bit bitter since she’s started to notice Mike is interested in Bella and not her

* But you kind of get it

* Bella’s cute, but she’s no Cindy Crawford. And to add...she’s really shy, not exactly someone with a charismatic personality.

* The attention she’s garnered will fade in due time, Edward had told you as much

* “It’s the same thing as when we moved to town, most of these kids have gone to school together since childhood, so when someone new gets here it’s all they can think about. They don’t really like her, they just like the idea of her. The illusion of a choice”

* It made you a little sad to be honest, even worse was that Bella didn’t seem to enjoy the attention. She seemed uncomfortable every time a boy flirted with her

* “I almost feel bad for her, I get the feeling she’s not really into any of these guys that are chasing her” Jessica says, so you’re not the only one that’s noticed

* You’re a little surprised that when the student comes by with carnations you get two entire bouquets worth

* And then they come back the next period and give you another bouquet

* “Oooo someone’s popular!” Angela teases and you shrug. Most of these are from Alice and Rosalie, they each bought you three each

* You got a whopping 12 from Conner which feels a bit surprising

* You knew he was going after it, but you didn’t think he would bother to actually put any effort into his attraction outside of flirting with you

* You’ve got one from everyone in your friend group, a handful from others on the cheer team, Emmett and Jasper both bought you one

* The only person who didn’t get you one was Edward

* You wonder if he got Bella one? The thought seems unlikely since they were basically at each others throat the last time they were together

* So imagine your surprise when you walk into the hall to see Bella and Edward talking

* You’re gone for a week and it’s like they’re suddenly insta-friends

* In fact, Bella’s actually blushing, a carnation twirling between her fingers

* A light red carnation

* So he did buy carnations after all, just not for you

* And Edward...his eyes are sparkling as he looks down at her. A lopsided grin curling onto his face

* Oh, there’s that smile

* He says something to her and she pouts, slapping him lightly with the carnation

* They’re getting along just fine without your matchmaking efforts

* So you were the problem

* You should be happy, relieved even-

* But all you can feel is the sharp twist in the bottom of your stomach

* “Hey (Y/N/N), I see you got my flowers”

* You turn around to see Conner who’s looking at your half zipped bag, 3 bouquets of flowers popping out of the top

* “Oh, yeah thanks they’re beautiful.”

* “I’m glad you got them, I noticed you weren’t at school and for a second I was worried you wouldn’t be here today too.”

* He really is cute. He’s got chocolate brown hair and clear blue eyes, a splatter of freckles across the bridge of his nose. He plays tennis or baseball or some other irrelevant sport.

* He’s popular with the girls too, he dated Lauren a few times, and Jessica admitted she had a crush on him freshman year.

* “Are you feeling better now?” He asks, he looks genuinely concerned and it takes you back a bit

* “Yeah, my dad came for a surprise visit so we went to Seattle”

* “Oh that’s cool, what did you guys do?”

* You’re a little surprised that Conner O’Malley, f*ckboy extraordinaire, is Trying to engage you in an honest conversation

* “We just did all the tourist stuff, space needle, museums, food, the usual.”

* Conner smiles at you, hands fidgeting together

* “That’s cool, did you um-did you read the note with the bouquet?

* You didn’t notice there was a note, you swing you backpack around, picking out his bright red bouquet with ease.

* You hadn’t paid attention to the note attached than reading the name on the front to see who they were from.

* “Will you be my valentine” you read the note out loud, feeling confused. What does that mean

* He fidgets in front of you, from here you can see his ears are bright red

* “So would you want to go out sometime?”

* He’s asking you out? On a proper date????

* “We could go watch a movie, or um I know you like to ride those bikes in Port A-“ you do like to ride those bikes in port a

* You watch the his human boy fumble over himself. There’s no future with this boy, one day he’ll grow old and want things you won’t be able to give him.

* “I have a ton of homework to catch up on-“

* “Oh, yeah no, I get that”

* But maybe... maybe it’s okay just to pretend and let yourself be entertained by the experience

* “Would you want to come with me to the library? I’m totally lost on Trig”

* You know it’s not the most romantic place, but that’s part of the reason you suggested it. You want to give him an out

* He looks a little surprised but recovers quickly.

* “I’ll meet you after school then, we can drive to the library together”

* You don’t bother telling Edward, you just look to the spot where he’s with Bella, he must have heard

* His eyes meet yours, his mouth pinches into a slight smile and he gives you a nod before turning back to Bella

* What so just because he’s got a new friend you’re invisible now?

* Stupid Edward. Not like you care, you just wanted him to know he’d have to ride home with the others

* Maybe his new best friend Bella can give him a ride home

* “So you’re going out with Conner tonight huh?” Mike asks when you take your seat in biology

* Edward doesn’t so much as spare you a glance

* “He’s just helping me catch up on school work.” You shrug, pulling out your biology homework

* “I bet he’ll help you catch up on-“

* “You’re going out with Conner?” Bella interrupts, you’re grateful for it but at the same time: those doe eyes and innocent face irritate you

* “He’s just helping me catch up on homework I missed”

* “Couldn’t Edward hell you do that?”

* You try to not look at Edward

* But what the f*ck?!?

* Last week the two of them couldn’t even sit in a car together for a short ten minute drive, and now all of a sudden she’s asking why you’re NOT spending time with Edward?

* It’s so... irritating

* You feel a tap on your arm, and turn to look at Edward

* “Control yourself”

* Oh great so the one time he decides to acknowledge your presence is to tell you to control your powers because he’s worried about his little human girlfriend getting the whiplash?!?

* Seriously, f*ck off Edward

* “Mr. Barnes I have to go to the nurse.”

* You don’t even wait to hear his answer, you just grab your bag and walk out

* You keep walking, practically fuming until you get to the parking lot

* Well you can’t leave, you already told Conner you’re going with him to the library after school

* Not to add it’s going to look real weird if you don’t go the nurses office eventually after storming off like that

* But you don’t want to go there yet

* Queue you discretely crouching under a window, lightly tapping the glass

* “Rosalie, Rosalie can you hear me?” You whisper

* Rosalie head turns to the window, her eyebrows threaded together, you poke your head just slightly above the ledge and give her a small smile and a wave

* Well at least it’s always interesting with you around

* “What are you doing?” Rosalie asks when she meets you under the school staircase

* You give her a nervous smile before collapsing onto the floor

* She gives you a knowing look before sitting beside you

* “So what did king Brood do now?”

* Queue the Edward rant

* “I leave for one week and all of a sudden he’s besties with some human, when just last week he told me not to get to close to her”

* “That’s Edward for you, king of the brood and hypocrisy.” Rosalie leans her head back against the wall

* “You know he didn’t even get me a carnation?”

* Rosalie rolls her eyes

* “That sounds like him, if it helps he didn’t buy me a carnation either, he just doesn’t think things like this are important”

* “He bought Bella one.”

* Rosalie sputters at that, so you retell her all about the flirting you had to watch

* “What color was the carnation?” Rosalie asks, and your eyebrows thread together

* Why is that important right now?

* “Um I don’t know, not quite pink, not quite red, something in between.”

* Rosalie’s expression smooths

* So that’s his game

* “Don’t worry about it too much as long as it’s not a deep red it doesn’t mean love”

* Now it’s your turn to sputter

* “W-what why would I be worried? Edward can do whatever he wants, even if it is with some human”

* Rosalie gives you a knowing look, and you avert your eyes

* If Rosalie were cruel she might ask why you’re sitting out here with her instead of in class, if you don’t care about what Edward does

* But Rosalie isn’t cruel, at least not to you

* She pats your shoulder, and you sigh

* “Come on let’s go to the nurse so you can pretend you have cramps or something” you nod

* “Besides don’t you have a date with the hottest human boy at our school?” You groan and a teasing smile curls onto her lips

* “Not you too.”

* The date is over hyped for sure, it’s mostly you and Conner sitting at the end of a small table asking each other questions about the trig homework

* “So...are you supposed to use the radical formula for this one?”

* “I think so..do you remember the formula?” Conner scratches his head

* “Um I remember there was a story about a mixed up guy going to a party that’s supposed to help”

* Basically it’s more like you’re helping Conner with home work than him helping you Totally underwhelming

* “Sorry, I bet there are better ways to spend your Valentine’s Day” Conner scoffs

* “Are you kidding? I’m spending it with the hottest person at Forks HS, as far as I’m concerned this is a win” he grins and you smile back

* Well, it wasn’t completely a waste

* You roll around back home around 11:30, everyone’s gone, on with their own Valentine’s Day plans.

* You’re not surprised to see Edward’s not in his room either He’s probably out watching Bella or doing god knows what

* You know this is the way it supposed to be, it’s the best thing for you too, you know even with Bella in the mix Edward would never betray you

* Once she’s on your side you don’t have to worry about the Volturi. But still, there a twist in your stomach You don’t like this new Edward, even if it is who he really is.

* You want your Edward back

* You sigh as you walk down the hall and into your room Stopping in the doorway when you flick on the lights

* There on your desk is a bouquet of roses

* You have half a mind to think they’re from Eleazer or Garrett or something

* So imagine when you pull off the card to see Edward’s name attached

* “Glad to have you home, happy Valentine’s Day” - Edward

* You toy with the card, a small smile curling onto your lips

* Maybe he’s still your Edward

* Your Edward just more anti-social

Tags:  @moonlights27 @thebluetint @the100thtwilight @awesomebooklover17 @oneofthepotterheads @smileygirl08 @imdoingathingmom @iconicgguk @yrawn @alyciaswhore @little-horror-show @wicked-watering-can @lazydreamers @ xxxmuxxx @ideas-for-you-to-adopt​​ @poisoinedhope @maryleigh8796​ @moose-squirrel-asstiel​ @hotmessgoodness @jaimewho @corabmarie @what-am-i-doing10​

[ignitedbynatsu]

I Trust You pt. 2

A/N: Ah, yes, humor as a coping mechanism, I totally don't use that every day 👀. ANywayz, @xbay-beex here is the last part your request, I hope you liked what I did with your request ❤ 

Genre: angst to fluff with a little bit of crack

Warnings: reader being hurt, self-loathing

Previous ~ next

⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡

He shouldn’t have listened. He shouldn’t have let you convince him, nor should he have let his ego get the best of him. It was foolish and reckless of him to believe that he could successfully take that shot. How could he have been so naïve? He knew he messed up badly in the past, but when you joined the guild, heard of what he did, and didn’t even care, it was at that very moment when he vowed to never hurt you. You had told him that his actions in the past didn’t define the man he was now, that you were certain that he was a good man, you believed in him, even with all the mistakes he made. And yet here he was, being the one responsible for putting you in that bed. He was the one who made you walk the fine line between life and death. He always had to mess it up one way or another. 

Freed placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, snapping him out of his destructive thought process. The blonde glanced at the other male for a second before fixating his eyes back on your resting form, hoping for you to wake up. Wanting nothing but seeing your beautiful eyes again. “You should get something to eat” 

He shook his head “I’m not hungry”, but the rumble in his stomach that followed contradicted his statement. 

“We’ll look after her. Just go, please” Laxus hadn’t even noticed that Bickslow and Evergreen were in the room as well. He looked up at them, meeting the same pitiful looks he received from everyone. He shouldn’t deserve their sympathy, he was the one who put you in that state anyway. If anything they should resent him, but none of them did. “Alright” 

Once Mira-Jane caught a glimpse of Laxus figure, she quickly whipped up a meal and placed it in front of the seat he took at the bar “thank you” Nobody dared to speak to him. Not even Natsu dared to open his mouth. They didn’t know how to act around the sulking mage since they had never seen him so deflated before. Everyone knew the two of you were very close, but for you to have such an impact on the feared S-class mage was a whole new world that opened up. 

 Laxus was aimlessly poking his food around, hardly eating anything, when suddenly his name got called “Laxus! She’s awake” His eyes shot up and met Bickslows hopeful ones. He wanted nothing more than jump from his seat and sprint to your room, but he couldn’t move. He was frozen in his seat. The relief he felt just now was completely overshadowed by guilt. How could he ever face you after what he did? 

“Laxus?” all eyes were trained on the dragon slayer who could do nothing more but stare at the ground “I… I can’t face her. Tell her I’m sorry” With that he stood up from his seat and walked through the front door, ignoring the shouts from his grandfather to get back. He just couldn’t do it. Too afraid of the rejection in your eyes. He always messes everything up, so it would be for the better if he just left you. 

 A loud explosion stopped him in his track and made him snap his head back towards the guild. “(Y/N)” this time his legs didn’t hesitate for a second as they carried his body instinctively to wear you laid. 

“Oh how nice of you to come and visit me” He took notice of the now broken vase on the bedside table and the sheepish smile that played on your lips. It was a smile you only displayed when you had done something you shouldn’t have. “I swear we tried to stop her” 

“Freed, Bickslow, Ever, could you give us a moment?” You interrupted Freed before he could completely snitch on you, even though you were sure that Laxus had figured out by now what you had done. The three nodded their head and closed the door softly after them, giving you all the privacy you needed. 

“So how much money did we make?” You started, a playful glint evident in your eyes. If he hadn’t known better Laxus would’ve never guessed you were on death’s doorstep only moments ago “this is not a laughing matter, (Y/N)” 

“I know it isn’t. I need to pay my rent” You agreed making him scoff and roll his eyes. You never liked serious moments, it made you feel uncomfortable, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to joke your way out of this one, not this time. “Hey”

Laxus glanced at you for a mere second but quickly averted his eyes again. He could not deal with the disappointment that could potentially fill those beautiful orbs of yours “It’s not your fault, you know?” 

A scoff passed his lips once again as he heard those words everyone kept telling him “how could you say that when you’re laying there like that?” 

“Simple, I just said it, didn’t I?” A smile was playing on your lips once again, but when you saw that your attempts at lightening the mood were going nowhere, a heavy sigh escaped your lips “Laxus, it was a joined decision. I told you to do it. It sucks that it didn’t work, but we had no other choice” 

“Maybe there was, and we just didn’t think hard enough” He shook his head. You were just trying to make him feel better. There was no way you didn’t resent him at least a little. 

“Okay fine, let’s think about it then. How could we have possibly escaped from that moment without at least one of us getting hurt?” you challenged him, but what followed was dead silence. He couldn’t think of anything. “You see what I mean? We didn’t have many options and that one had the most chance of nobody getting hurt.” 

“Why do you have so much faith in me? You keep giving me second chances no matter how hard I mess up” You were a bit taken back by the sudden revelation of his emotions, but quickly regained your posture “You’re not a bad man, Laxus”

 “You keep saying that, but yet here you are, laying in this bed all because of my doings” He didn’t care how vulnerable he was right now. He had to let it out, or he would explode “I was terrified of the thought of losing you, of never seeing those two beautiful eyes look at me again, of never seeing that warm smile greet me every time you see me.” 

“Laxus… What are you saying?” You had a hunch of where this was going, but you wanted to hear the words coming from his mouth. 

 “You’re the reason why I wanna be better, (Y/N). I aspire to be a man worthy of putting your faith in one day. Worthy of giving your heart to even. But, I know I’m not there yet, and I know you deserve someone better. I… Just give me a bit of time, I promise I’ll love you unconditionally until the day I die” He vowed, making you chuckle a little “Was that too much?” 

“You already own my heart, silly” you smiled lovingly at him and for the first time he realized that that smile was the same smile you gave him every day when you greeted him. “Why?” 

“As I said before, you’re not a bad man, Laxus. Sure you’ve made some mistakes in the past, but you’ve learned from them. And even so, all your mistakes were always born out of good intentions, even when you tried to rebrand Fairy Tail. You may put on this unbothered façade, but I know you’d sacrifice your life in an instant for anyone in this guild, and that right there is a man deserving of my love” You explained as you placed your hand softly against his cheek. “You’re the only one I’d trust with my heart, so you better take good care of it” 

“You can never be serious for longer then 10 seconds, can you?” he chuckled as he placed his forehead against yours. You closed your eyes and hummed in satisfaction “just shut up and kiss me”

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Primogeniture 25

@cloudyunicorn698 requested this one! Jane and Maura will never break up in the Primogeniture universe, so it was fun to try and find a way to meet the conditions of this prompt while keeping it light. As often happens with me, it turned out raunchy 😂

Thus, it is below the read more cut. Enjoy!

Jane grips the armrests of the chair in her and Maura’s bedroom, catching a guttural moan, keeping it in her throat as best she can. It is late - well, late in parenting time - ten pm, and her work slacks are around her ankles. Maura’s head is between her legs, licking right through the wettest parts of her. Jane, with power she cannot determine the source of, forces herself to look down, and she is rewarded with the image of Maura on her knees. The image of the crown of Maura’s head bobbing while she works. “Fuck…” Jane whispers quietly, because all of it looks like art and feels like magic. It has been so long and…

“Mommy!” comes the cry from down the hall, no doubt Chiarina rousing herself from a nightmare. She’s been battling them for weeks now, and Maura says it’s because of her growth spurt and her developing brain.

Jane jerks up and Maura jumps away from her. Rina’s door is ten feet from their own; they have literal seconds. Maura is clothed, and so all she does is heave a shuddering, frustrated sigh and wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. Jane, however, must rise and yank up her pants. She does so with a little dance as the buckle jingles a tune in her hurry, and she zips up her fly just as their distraught daughter bursts into the room.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” asks Maura, with a tinge of disappointment too nuanced for a child to catch.

___

“Shh shh shh, c’mere,” Jane whisper chuckles three days later, in the register that always drives Maura hot. Maura is trying to wriggle away from her now, but she is also laughing and looking back like she wants to be caught. Jane finally traps her after they take a turn around the rug in the middle of the bedroom, pulling her in by the wrist. Their bodies draw close, with Jane wrapping arms around Maura’s smaller frame. “If we’re quiet and quick, I can make ya cry,” says Jane, smiling into the kiss Maura gives her on their way to the floor. The soft thud of Maura’s head hitting the rug sends pleasure bolts right to Jane’s hips, and they thrust forward of their own accord.

“We have to finish yard work,” Maura faux protests, even as she begins to writhe against Jane, who landed very fortuitously on top of her. “I came up here to use the restroom and you pounced on me like a lion.”

“You been livin’ in this house the past month? I have to take my chances where I can get ‘em,” Jane argues. “A napping toddler and some discretion means we can play. Don’t you wanna play? Don’t you want me to touch on that pretty pussy? I haven’t-”

Maura unzips her own housework shorts and shoves them hastily away, interrupting Jane in the process. “I want you to touch it,” she begs over the rest of Jane’s monologue, “I need you to touch it.”

Jane obliges by sticking two of her own fingers in her mouth and sucking on them once or twice, until they feel wet enough to her, and then swiping them through Maura’s already wet-enough sex. “Oh, baby,” whines Jane when she presses up and Maura takes her in with gusto, squeezing around Jane to show her how appreciative she is.

Just when Maura spreads her knees, however, they both hear the patter of feet on the stairs, followed by the shattering of glass and a surprised shriek. “Are you fucking kidding me,” Jane says, unlike a question because she already knows the answer. She is not being kidded.

Maura is up before her, and pulling herself into some semblance of decency before she runs out to make sure Rina is not bleeding out somewhere downstairs.

___

It is Sunday morning and they are up early, a whole hour earlier than three-and-a-half year old Chiarina usually rises. Maura looks up at herself in the mirror just after she spits excess toothpaste into the sink. Then, she splashes some water on her face, wondering where Jane has gone, if she is already downstairs making coffee, or if she decided to go back to sleep when Maura got up to pee.

She gets her answer when she pats her eyes dry, and it comes in the form of something hard, at attention and poking into her backside. Then there is the sensation of Jane’s arms snaking around her middle. She gasps when she reaches behind her, rewarded with a handful of what is about to be inside her through the material of Jane’s pajama pants. She turns instantly in Jane’s embrace, and they kiss so passionately, so wetly, with so many whimpers and moans they might as well be naked.

When she grabs fistfuls of Jane’s oversized sleep t-shirt, Maura is painfully reminded that they are not. “Why did you come in here, with that on, wearing clothes?” She whines.

Jane lifts her to sit up on the counter of the double vanity. “‘Cause,” she starts around a smattering of short kisses to interrupt the breath-stealing, tongues-down-throats variety they had just begun, “what if I suit up in the bed and hop right on out, only to have a kid starin’ right at me? It’s happened before, just not with this thing on. I’d like to keep it that way.”

Maura pulls the black tee over Jane’s head, groaning when she then palms a newly-uncovered breast in each hand. Nipples contract, harden, and she’s reminded of what waits for her. She starts to kick at the waistband of Jane’s pajama pants, to no avail.

Jane does it, pulling them down just enough to expose the toy strapped to her hips, and while she does, Maura tugs on the sash of her robe until the knot unravels. The sides flutter open, just like her legs, and then Jane is in.

Choirs sing, angels fly overhead, the sky opens up to bathe her in ecstasy like sunlight - Jane is in, and fucking. Fucking quickly. “Oh my god,” says Maura, hands stuck to Jane’s broad, strong shoulder blades in prayer that as they bounce, there will be nothing to interrupt them.

The toy that Jane has chosen must be the one that fits inside her, too, because she latches onto Maura’s chin with her teeth in an attempt to stifle her moans while they move together. “It’s a fuckin’ miracle,” Jane curses between panting, when she can summon enough breath to talk, only just barely.

Maura is not so judicious with her sounds of pleasure, however. She cannot respond because she is too busy crying out in their en suite. The feminine echoes against its walls combine with slick, soaking symphony her body plays for Jane, and the concert sounds like heaven to their ears. She begins to lose herself, to lean back and accept Jane’s onslaught because Jane clearly knows exactly what to do, when she thinks she hears it.

She shakes her head, deciding that she is both paranoid and conditioned to expect disaster when she and Jane make love lately. Or rather, attempt to make love. She chalks it up to imagination until she hears it again: the faint creaking of door hinges. She is loath to stop Jane’s pump, because christ is it a good one, but then they both pause.

A sleepy voice, clearly concerned, and far off. Like in the doorway of their bedroom. “Mommy, are you ok? Mommy?”

Maura’s pupils focus, and when she can see again, she is looking at Jane, who is looking at her with pursed lips. There is a moment of serenity, just before Maura’s visage cracks and she knocks her head back hard enough against the mirror to hurt. She doesn’t care. “We can never be together,” she cries, putting her hand over her eyes so that the tears don’t fall.

Jane’s lips, as if to agree, touch hers softly, with contrition and with a very acute sense of loss, just before she pulls out. She takes her pants from around her thighs back up to her waist. She shrugs her shirt on and folds Maura’s robe around her middle. “Check on her? I’ll uh,” she pauses and gestures to the protrusion at her hips, “take care of this.”

Maura looks, and to her it represents all that she cannot have. “Fine,” she says petulantly. “But she is spending the night at your mother’s. And if she asks for pancakes, I’m giving her oatmeal.”

Jane barks a laugh loud enough to send their daughter running in its direction. “Shit,” she says, moving out of the way of Maura’s open hand on the back of her head just in time. “I’m sorry, I am. And you know I’m just as frustrated. But she’s just a kid, babe. Who has no idea she’s the reason her parents haven’t fucked in weeks.”

Maura knows Jane’s right, but she still turns up her nose when she walks out. Everyone will be having oatmeal this morning, if she has anything to say about it.

[jadelynlace]

NSFW Prompts / Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU Request [Ivar x F!Reader]

full series is here

request by: @quantumlocked310 

author’s note: you can find the complete NSFW prompt list here, and you can find the request by the love of my life, I mean @quantumlocked310 here. also, see if you can spot my new favorite HC for this series!

content warnings: we’re taking another trip (no, not in our favorite rocket ship), back to before these two dumb asses were out to everyone. even though, everyone basically knew it. this is mostly just sweet fluff, like you’ll need an insulin shot.

prompt: “to skinny dip with my muse”

synopsis: a weekend retreat proves to you how much Ivar is already devoted.

~

“Ivar went up to the lake house for the weekend, he said ‘for inspiration’ but I’m sure it to fuck,” Ubbe said. 

“Oh, I bet Y/N went up there too!” Hvitserk laughed. “I’ll have to text her, see what her excuse is.”

“I wonder how much longer they’re going to hide it from us, they’re practically a couple anyways.” Ubbe groaned, tossing the popcorn through the air to land on his tongue.

“Do you know how hard it is not to turn to her in the ambulance and just go “so how big is my little brother’s dick, Y/N’?” Hvitserk said. “I just want to see the look on her face before she kills me.”

“Probably the same as yours,” Ubbe started. “You two are fraternal twins after all.”

“Thanks, Ubbe, not a thought I wanted to think.” Hvitserk groaned.

The drive isn’t very long, low hum to the playlist in the mustang, your reflection in the glass as you tell Ivar about the week’s worth of calls, detail by ever loving disgusting detail. And not once does he stop you, not once does he grimace or groan, he tells you to keep going and he asks you questions about such as you blabber to him. The sun had just set as the gravel road takes to the tires, crunching as the engine slowed, rolling around the bend of the driveway and parking next to the cabin. You’re silent as you gaze at the view, pure water with the rays of diminishing sun and the breeze blows an immediate calmness through your whole body. 

Dotting the sky with a speckle of tiny lights, when night finally crept over, you two had taken to the blanket on the small patch of grass that lead to the dock. Cobble stone path in between you and the shore line as you rested your head across Ivar’s chest. Steady beating of his heart in your ears while his hands never stopped their small strokes over your shoulders, tracing your spine, but going no lower, no dirtier than he was known for. Almost as if he was trying to gauge your time together with something other than the tangles of sheets and the moans, and you gladly accepted this side of Ivar. The peaceful, relaxed side.

“Those three dots are—”

“The summer triangle,” Ivar answers. “And those, make up Sagittarius,” He adds, pulling you closer to him as the summer air laps at bare skin. 

“What about that one?” You ask, pointing your finger back at the sky. 

“That’s Libra—kinda like you,” Ivar answers through a breath of clouds as he chuckles before pulling your hand back down as he places a peck over you knuckles. 

“I’m not a Libra, actually, I’m a—”

“I meant the air sign part,” Ivar snorts. “You have strong intellect and a good mind,” He adds, taking his finger down the bridge of your nose. Your face wrinkles into a smile as your own eyes sparkle in the moon light, rivaling the great sky before you two. 

“I didn’t know you knew about constellations,” You whisper. 

“My mother used to bring me outside at night when I couldn’t sleep and she would show me the stars, and tell me the tales about each one. Sometimes I made myself stay awake just to hear her talk,” Ivar hums, turn of his lips against your forehead.

“You think I have a good mind?” You whisper, curling back up against him, inhaling the scent of his cologne from his neck line and he only hums as you nuzzle closer. “Not a dirty one?”

“I never said good can’t mean dirty,” Ivar laughs, bringing and arm out to his side to crack his elbow, popping it with a snap before curling it back around you. “Did you tell Hvitserk what you were doing this weekend?”

“No, I don’t always have to talk to him, goof ball. And he doesn’t always need to know what I’m doing, even if it’s you.” And Ivar only snorts.

“I didn’t just bring you out here for sex,”

“Oh, you’re going to kill me? Great, thank you.”

“I can’t spend time with you, without my dick being inside of you?” Ivar asks and there was a tone in his question that warranted a serious answer, like he was baring his soul and opening it before you in the night sky.

“You can, Ivar. I really like it actually,” You answer, pushing yourself up and pecking the corner of his mouth. His eyes are closed as you do so, and he fears if he opens them you’re not going to be there—it’ll all have been a dream and he’s asleep in his bed in his flat, cold and alone and sad. But they finally peel apart and catch the moon light, glimmering and lightening and you lean down to kiss his mouth, only to pull back up so you can look at him. “Your eyes are really blue…” You hum.

“I let my Dad know that you said that,” Ivar teases, cheeky smirk and you only giggle, lean back down to peck his mouth a final time but his hand stops you. Holding your head near his as his mouth takes on a war against yours, a low vibration through Ivar’s chest as he kisses you, and you can feel it from where your hand is stationed. You’re moved slowly, pushed back along the blanket and Ivar is over you, holding his weight on his forearms as his lips move with yours. It’s a slow dance they take to, a waltz that’s not hurried like most of his kisses have been. He’s savoring you now, enjoying the hours with just you and no worry for the moment you two might be caught by someone. And Ivar realizes this is what he likes more—most of all so far, between the two of you, the hidden times alone where he can enjoy you, savor you and worship you like the Goddess you are.

Your nails rake against his neck as he settles between your bent knees, nose squishing against yours and you moan as one of his hands takes on a journey down your curves. Supple touches and soft strokes from his fingerprints gracing you, touching you like a prized relic he wants to admire. Ivar’s mouth finally pulls back enough as he rests his forehead against yours, and when you open your eyes to peek up, his are still closed and there’s a soft smile on his swollen lips.

“Do you want to go swimming?” He asks suddenly.

“Yes, I love the thought of whatever is lurking in those waters having a chance to touch me.” You say back.

“I’ll hold you,” Ivar starts, moving away. “It’ll be fine trust me,” And he’s pulling you up to sit, peeling his own shirt off and then taking yours with you and you can’t help but laugh as he moves. Fingers unhooking your bra and his lips trace your shoulder blades as he works.

“Ivar—no—not fucking naked!” You squeak as he lifts you up.

“I can throw you in?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” You hiss as he wraps you in his arms. “I will give you blue balls for the next six months,”

“Noted,” Ivar chuckles, bare feet slipping into the shore line and you shriek quietly as the water graces the backs of your thighs, chilling the heated skin and your arms are wrapped around Ivar for dear life.

“We’re not having sex in the lake,” You mumble against him and he nods, lets out a fake whine and you laugh as you feel his hands swarm your back. “And you’re going to cut your feet on the rocks,”

“Would you stop worrying for thirty seconds?” Ivar asks you, his hands dipping into the lake before he lets the water trickle down your back.

“My record is twenty, but I can try,” You answer, lips on his neck as the same wet hands start against the ends of your hair, easing you into the lake as you shiver against him slightly. “Feels nice,” You whisper and he hums as you take your own hand and drip water over his shoulder.

“Thanks for coming up with me,” Ivar says to you suddenly and you move your head away to look at him when he talks.

“Of course, Ivar,” You smile back and he can still see it, even in the darkness of the evening as you push your mouth against his gently. His hands skim your thighs, around the swell of your ass and take to your hips. You hum against him as his hands roam, sending butterflies through you. “We’re still not having sex in the lake,”

“I’ll be quick,” Ivar tries.

“As suppose to what?” You tease and Ivar scoffs. His noise makes you laugh and there’s water splashed in your face a second later; small waves you’re eager to give back before laughter rings between the two of you. “I’m only teasing, you know that I like it.” You giggle and you sag against him as he relaxes beneath the water. 

“I like it too,” Is all Ivar replies as you two stay still, relishing in each others company as the lake moves around your bodies. You know Ivar’s caught feelings, it’s so evident in how he’s holding you, how he’s being around you, and you keep you mouth closed under tight lock and key, and simply enjoy the moment. Because you know that you’ve caught them too.

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