#j case hot wheels

[rashivermaofficial]

Hot Wheels- Unboxing and Showcase Knight Draggin 🐲😱 | Hot Wheels Unleashed

The Knight Draggin is a stunning Hot Wheels car that is sure to rev your engines and get your heart racing. Here's a closer look at the Knight Draggin, its stunning design, and its performance.

Watch:- https://youtu.be/D8Lw9aJ3LVA

[somer-writes]

I’m feeling festive, what do you think would be the best gift for each of the Links for their version of Christmas?

HMMM i had to do some thinking here:

Time: 101 Minecraft Jokes for Kids /j. I think Time would appreciate like a foot roller or smth. idk as a person in my mid-20s, foam rollers are a life saver

Warriors: fancy soap. like the handmade kind you get from some bird name Wanda at your local high school's craft show.

Twilight: a nice fishing lure even though he has plenty

Sky: some kind of collection keeper. like a penny passport

Wild: burn salve /j a novelty hot sauce sampler

Legend: a nice wallet (and/or wallet chain)

Hyrule: a case of red bull

Four: nice leather gloves of maybe a patterned headband

Wind: a cypher wheel and/or invisible ink pen

[becumsh]

a very hot take but i did not care for how they resolved phrack ust in s3 and in the movie. you can cancel me now

TLDR; S3 has no backbone of an emotional storyline/plotline which leaves phrack storyline feeling as if it was slapped together at the last moment, the movie recycles old themes in a very watered down and empty ways that only Nathan and Essie's chemistry and acting could somewhat salvage

S3

Phryne's dismissal of Jack's feelings gets boring real quick because they keep having the same conversation over and over again, and the dual jealous episodes don't lead anywhere until ep8 when it just kind of forgot about everything s3 was sort of building up to for the sake of the plot(???). I felt like the bridge between the whole jealousy drama and the ~kiss~ was missing, which I kinda understand why - the whole appeal of phrack is the flirtatious back and forth which in s3 becomes borderline indecent, and without the relationship drama (Jack not being a free man until his divorce/'old friends') it's hard to make the characters cross that line of 'will they won't they'. And it doesn't happen until the very ep8, because the latter half of the season they spend going on tennis dates, dancing, and whatever romantic shit they've been doing all along anyways, all without actually changing their relationship dynamic. And ep8 itself is a hot mess because the finale arc feels empty (there are no emotional stakes, there's no build up, it revolves around Phryne's father we cannot bring ourselves to give half a fuck about because he was not shown as a real character), the case is weak which could be overruled if the episode had any sort of emotional weight or tied up loose ends or gave the viewers and character a feeling of closure but nothing of the sort happened. Hugh and Dot's wedding drama in s3 seems more cohesive than whatever the hell they planned for Henry Fisher.

Murdoch Foyle from s1 feels menacing and actually dangerous, because he's been set up since ep1, the arc has emotional stake for Phryne, the titular character, and the resolution is as satisfying as it is heartbreaking but necessary for the main character to get closure. Even s2, which imo is weaker, makes up for the lack of solid overarching plotline with stronger episodes (personal opinion) and the emotional storyline which leaves phrack relationship AND the characters in a very different point from where they started in the season.

S3 tries to resolve the remaining phrack drama in 3 episodes (which in my opinion it didn't, but whatever), spent the rest of the season fucking about, tried to pick up where it left off in ep8 which leaves me wondering what the fuck was happening for 8 episodes since the kiss in 2x12 would've felt more earned. The kiss near the plane felt so satisfying not because the season plotline had come to its conclusion, but because we are given closure after 30+ episodes of seeing phrack eyefucking each other, and forgive me if I expected something more substantial

***

and movie-wise, as much as I love salty and jealous Jack, it's again just a mish mash of issues they had in s2 and s3 - Phryne's avoidance to face Jack's feelings, Jack being a jealous bitch because Phryne doesn't tell him shit/the writers ignored the second half of s3 and the s2 to boot. And for neither old fans nor new audience it makes any sense.

Old fans get a watered down repetition of Blood at the Wheel/Blood of Juana the Mad arc which is frustrating, because both characters went through this shit, and they resolved that shit (sort of) and another jealous s3 arc from Jack's side which is fun but also is built on miscommunication and not on the sheer difference of their core values they need to meet in the middle. Which again, makes it watered down and cheap.

New audience sees a female Indiana Jones with a scorned lover as a sidekick which pops up from nowhere, and without knowing their shared history and context, both characters just feel annoying and heartless, which is just sad.

Also the whole Indiana Jones vibe from the movie didn't help at all, because it has not been done well. If they had an Agatha Christie move adaptation vibe to it, the movie fared far better in terms of cohesive storyline.

And actually because of the repeating storylines of jealousy and loss, phrack loses that light hearted vibe that attracts the viewer so much. The whole movie they spend together with Phryne indifferent and flippant, Jack bitter and salty, and though they love each other and whatever, they don't like each other and it shows through the writing, thank god Nathan and Essie just have this natural pull that saves this godforsaken movie from being abandoned on minute 10.

I'm not even talking about the pacing and just general issues, they give that desert plot like 20 minutes which is hella fucking rushed, whilst dragging the first half of the movie for a whole fucking hour.

***

What they COULD explore in s3 is how Henry is a foil to Phryne and reflects what makes her so infuriated with her dad her qualities she needs to work on (being reckless, not being honest, not telling shit to people they care about, push people away) so she could grow from it

They could've put Jack in that wreckage after all, so Phryne could see and understand where his worry and anguish comes from - not because he wants to control her, tie her down, or make her tell him about her whereabouts, but because he cares for her deeply.

And in the movie, if they were to put Jack through that emotional meat grinder again, it could've been done far more interesting than that.

Maybe I'll feel better about both s3 and the movie after I give it some time, but fresh after binging it I'm not impressed.

[realpaperdragon]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Hot Wheels Nissan J-Imports and Factory Fresh set of 4 cars.

[honeybeekao]

No Lonesome With You

2137 words

Johnny Joestar/Gyro Zeppeli

fluff, slow dancer's a cat, modern setting

Summary: Johnny turned to Gyro, his eyebrow raised. "You didn't think to tell me ya got a cat then."

"Technically I didn't, she just walked in here yesterday and I haven't kicked her out." Without a moment to spare, Gyro skittered past Johnny and pulled Dancer into his arms, swift as lightning. She immediately climbed her way on to his shoulder, staring at the newcomer.

Wanting to get a closer look, Johnny rolled as far forward as the space allowed.

The atmosphere was desolate as it was quiet—far too quiet to possibly believe there were even other human beings on Earth. The shine radiating off his laptop was blinding - he never did opt to turning the brightness down, perhaps that contributed to the abundance of headaches. No matter, he wouldn't do anything about it—he'd just continue to sit, staring at a mindless article that he'd far off forgotten he was gonna read.

The time in the corner of the screen was small but at the same time so utterly bold as it quickly switched to the new hour.

1:00 AM.. His therapist had recommended he try melatonin to try and get a grip on his sleep schedule, but he'd already know it wouldn't work. Maybe the meds would, but the whole "getting more sleep" never did seem to be Johnny's thing. It didn't matter how much sleep he got - albeit it did if he had to wake up early, but that was the thing. Here, with a freelance job in digital painting and illustrations; he didn't need a specific wake-up time. It was all a way for him to revert to lackadaisical routine, but that couldn't hurt him. It got him through life, yeah it was lonely most of the time—but he'd survived hadn't he? It was okay because he was stable.. At least, financially, and the privacy he'd never gotten growing up was all around.

A curious notification popping up at the top of the screen caught his attention, straining his eyes to read the text he found it was from his friend Gyro. Of course it was Gyro, Johnny didn't talk to anyone else who'd even be awake at this hour. Diego was too ambitious to let his proper schedule be fucked up, and HP just didn't talk much when it came to online.

"yoyo do you wanna come over and taste test some things??" The message read, followed by a slightly blurry photo of a kitchen counter that looked like a tornado had blown clear through it—why was every capsule of food coloring basically empty? Aren't you supposed to use like two drops of that shit?

Are you /srs or /j Johnny typed quickly, thankfully noticing his typo of "/h" before sending it which.. what even would that mean? He was grateful for the vehement need to meticulously go over any message he sent.

"100% serious, I may have gone a bit overboard," Gyro said after around 20 seconds. Probably wasn't paying too much attention to their chat if he was baking.

I'll head over :)✌ he replied, closing his laptop and finding its case somewhere on his bed. How that somehow ended up under his blankets despite him not remembering putting it there- he'd never know. The fact it was 1 AM probably didn't make that matter any better.

When he finally stopped staring off into the darkness—how poetic— no, but it was a little concerning how much he spaced out — Johnny pushed himself into his chair. Ready to make the totally strenuous journey to Gyro's apartment.

After closing the door behind him, keys in his pocket and the bulky laptop under his arm, he wheeled down the hall. No one was out at this hour thank God, and the air was quite pleasant actually. It could be classified in the ever-popular Goldie Locks zone - not too cold, not too hot, perfect for going outside in the dead of night! Er.. morning? Both, neither.

After turning one corner, Johnny got to the door with a decorative cowboy hat hung up on the frame—yeah Gyro didn't actually live that far and it was a wonder that the two didn't just resort to sharing an apartment given how often they were at eachother's respectively. Johnny knocked on the door, then continued to let his mind wander.

Was it a twist of fate that Gyro had sent such a message at what seemed like the perfect time? If it had been any longer with him dwelling in the mental mindfield he called his brain, he may have sunk into the clutches of those damnable thoughts. The ones that veered their claws at random moments and whisked themselves away in the shadows when others were near. Usually, he could ignore it - but Johnny was finding it more and more difficult to as the demons got bigger, more effective. Some nights they ate him up inside like he was nothing but a cored apple, easy to rot. Oh Gyro, you've no idea how much I don't wanna be alone tonight.

The click of the lock, and the sudden appearance of his closest friend brought him out of his haze, knocking off the blank stare he surely had settled into. The man had a funny apron on, he really did have a certain charm tied in every aspect of his life, was that a pin of Link from Zelda?

"What's up Johnny Boy! Up at the dead of night I see?" Gyro said in a surprised voice, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm always up this late‐ and you knew I'd show up." Johnny replied with a snort. "Am I welcome?"

"Always—even if I don't expect it," Gyro answered with a wink, the implications of his statement flying right over Johnny's head as he wheeled into the apartment. A strong scent of cinnamon, vanilla, a hint of chocolate maybe? permeated the air like the morning of Christmas, and Johnny couldn't help but scrunch his nose at just how vibrant the smell was. It didn't overwhelm him per se, but it was far stronger than any bakery he'd ever had the pleasure to be in. How many things did Gyro make?

"I kinda got carried away by looking at recipes and couldn't pick only one, so by midnight I had like 3 mini cakes baked!" Gyro rattled off his tale like it was just some regular evening occurrence. Which in all fairness it kinda was. This wasn't the first time Gyro had made an entire weeks- maybe two weeks worth of something because he couldn't just pick one idea to test out; he was really a man of his craft.

"Did you use every spice in that cabinet?" Johnny joked, eyeing obvious colors of unknown dusts on Gyro's face. He watched as Gyro closed the door, then gave a grimace as the man shook his head like a dog who'd freshly exited the depths of a lake—there was stuff in his hair too?? How'd he manage that?

"What, why're you judging me," Gyro's voice came off offended, he had the gall to move closer to Johnny which prompty earned him the palms of 2 nimble hands half a foot from his face.

"Do you want me to have a sneezing fit, Jesus Gyro," Johnny wiggled his hands as if to say "shoo!" He wasn't really irked—and he was probably being a tad overdramatic—but what could he say? He couldn't stand sneezing over cinnamon and sugar.

Gyro huffed, then switched his gaze to the hall. "I was thinking I'd deliver them to whoever's in my contacts, maybe spin a wheel to see who gets the one loaded in food dye, but I was sooo lonely without my best friend Johnny! Thought it was worth having ya' around." He talked with such a large grin on his face you'd think he was telling his life's story. Not once had Johnny ever bothered bringing up what went on in his own head, but it seemed Gyro wore his heart directly on his sleeve - as prominent as his golden grills. If he needed company, he'd seek it rather than let the alternative swallow him whole. Admirable; how did he do that?

"Well you're in luck I wasn't busy." Never am, not at night at least. Johnny dropped his hands back to his lap and tilted his head ever so slightly. "Sooo you wanted me to taste test or something?"

"Yepyep! Since I dunno if it's even any good," Gyro looked off sheepishly while tapping his hand on the wall behind him.

"You're a professional chef, I doubt it sucks." Johnny smiled in weak amusement, pushing himself to leave the front-door area to reach the kitchen. Which, it shouldn't have been surprising that the scents of delectable sweets was only more ambrosial the closer he got to them.

"Is... is that.." The young man gawked upon entering the brightly lit room. His eyes were wide in awe at the spectacle of a little gray creature perched upon the top section of the mahogany bookshelf. It made neon eye contact with Johnny, its tail swishing around as the two were at a standstill.

"Pspspsps—" Gyro's call to the fluffy feline wooshed through the air and hit all 4 ears "—Daaancer!"

Johnny turned to Gyro, his eyebrow raised. "You didn't think to tell me ya got a cat then."

"Technically I didn't, she just walked in here yesterday and I haven't kicked her out." Without a moment to spare, Gyro skittered past Johnny and pulled Dancer into his arms, swift as lightning. She immediately climbed her way on to his shoulder, staring at the newcomer.

Wanting to get a closer look, Johnny rolled as far forward as the space allowed. "You seem friendly.." Illegal how tall Gyro stood when he wasn't slouching.

"She's not chipped so.."

Johnny stuck his hand out, slow and far away enough for Dancer's choice to get closer. He could feel air from her nose as she conducted her character analysis, his breath paused in slight worry. What he was worried about, no fucking clue but being rejected by animals has got to be the lowest of lows that ever could low. "She's got gorgeous ey—"

The man's words were snipped short as the weight of 4 paws landed on his lap, the fluffiness of a face pressing his stomach like he was some sort of pillow. What the hell what the fuck, oh my God. Johnny's face rattled in mortification, jaw dropped and eyes unmoving, but soon endearment tinged the water in his heart and his hand went to pet the kitty's head.

Gyro's grin couldn't possibly get any wider, the man's eyes shining glee and THEY WERE ABSOLUTELY PERFECT. "She picked you!"

"Shh go away I have a new best friend," Johnny could barely control the warmth in his voice, which was a feat given how rare that was. Wasn't his thing, some people speak in winter and some speak in Summer— it all depends on their nature. Diego definitely spoke in autumn.

Bright as hell, with Johnny's glare to match, Gyro's eyes glanced around his camera to give him a 'it was necessary you can't be mad at me' face. The polaroid printed, and the pretty picture began to appear in front of him. A mirror to the real thing.

"So since she's your best friend now you can just show up to see her whenever ya want." A statement of calm and welcoming words reached Johnny's ears a moment later as he held the polaroid between his fingers. He hadn't seen a photo of himself smiling so genuinely in.. in like ever. Something about it made him want the tears to fall—but God he couldn't cry over a cat. And he especially couldn't cry about a cat in front of his other best friend—why was it complicated like that?

Gyro returned to his habitat of cooking utensils and baked goods, some already put into containers and others stuck on the cooling rack that'd probably been long over its use many minutes before. He let the cats bond as he made small slices of the different desserts, transporting the dense feathers of pure sugar to a plate of graphic roses. This was also the only plate that adorned this pattern, Gyro'd been searching to find a set to match - perhaps that goal would never be achieved. Nevertheless, he set the plate on the table, opting to just leave it there for the two to snack on at any point. And he'd get to actually reducing the mess to wash-cloths and Clorox later. Not TOO much later, but an hour wouldn't hurt the counter surely.

"Where'd the name Dancer come from," Johnny spoke up. The creature really had chosen him, her purring resembling that of a running engine. A cuddle machine of a cat and a boy who'd never known the pure joy of it.

"Oh I dunno, the way she jumped seemed kinda like dancin'—" Gyro led his own way, hair flowing behind him towards the CD player that set closer to the couch in his cozy living room. "A bit simple but I like it."

"Me too," Johnny mumbled a bit, "my best friend Dancer."

[cala-aceattorney]

Ok I just finished replaying AA4, right? And I just want to say how incredibly unfair it is that Kristoph is so HOT. Like why does AA gotta make their villains so hot?! Unfair!!!

Anyways I've been THINKING abt Kristoph- abt him being legitimately nice. Like wholesome-ish Kristoph is actually my kryptonite.

i should simp for Klavier instead. Hes hot. But Kristoph 👀👀👀

Imagine the Gavin brothers fighting over you or both flirting with u to see who wins!!

Hi, thanks for the ask!

Does kristoph qualify as hot? Actually what villain in aa is genuinely hot? I'm thinking dahlia but she's more porcelain-doll-pretty than like. Sexually attractive. Kristoph is crystal-immaculate AND he's a big whore (Sorry not sorry) but again. Hot? I think the only really "hot" villain would be matt engarde. (Not that i experience sexual attraction.) (I also refuse to mention manfred von karma.) but why are the villains so pretty! (Not manfred fuck off manfred)

Kristoph being nice is all that i live for btw ! i think when he was just a teen and klavier was a child i think he genuinely cared for his little brother? I think he still does actually but they've grown so distant and kristoph only feels the need to be perfect so he'll use anyone at his disposal as a stepping stone. He's just a bit unhinged. Just like me <3 /j

Klavier is attractive actually. He's great! I should do a little meta analysis on him and how he pushes the game forward. Again, no sexual attraction here so i cant comment.

And no, i cant imagine the brothers fighting over anyone really. They've probably got very different taste in men. And im not that masc-looking anyways. And I'd rather go through the Manipulative Brother Experience™️ than be a romantic partner? (Also i am OBLIVIOUS to flirting. Not that anyone would flirt with me. I've seen two people flirt in front of me but i couldn't even notice so i just kept on talking about whatever i was talking about while not knowing i was a third wheel. So that's great :D)

Or did i get that wrong. Were you trying to get me to write something about the gav bros x reader or something. In that case im sorry idk how to write x reader :,)

[rashivermaofficial]

Hot Wheels Unboxing and Showcase Knight Draggin 🐲😱 | Rare Diecast Mattel Machine Racing Car

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Welcome to our exciting unboxing and showcase video of the Hot Wheels Knight Draggin! This stunning Hot Wheels car is sure to get your engines revving and your heart racing. In this video, we will take a closer look at the Knight Draggin, its stunning design, and performance. Get ready to witness an incredible showcase of this powerful car in action! We will start by unboxing the Knight Draggin and provide you with all the details about its features and capabilities. #hotwheels #hotwheelscollector #hotwheelscollection #hotwheelsunleashed #hotwheelshunting #hotwheelscars #hotwheelsshowcase #hotwheelsunboxing #hotwheelsrlc #hotwheelsunlimited #ministryofdiecast #rashiverma #hotwheelsoriginal #diecast #diecastcars hot wheels hunting | hot wheels unleashed | hot wheels cars | hot wheels collection | hot wheels showcase | hot wheels unboxing | hot wheels rlc | hot wheels unlimited | hot wheels super treasure hunt | treasure hunt hot wheels | opening hot wheels | ministry of diecast | hot wheels j case | hotwheels j case | rashi verma | j case hot wheels | hot wheels collector | hot wheels original Knight Draggin Street Beasts J4XPH DHX03-D7B3 J29 2013 Mattel Made in Malaysia 1186 MJ, 1, NL More Video on Hot Wheels are given Below Hot Wheels Tornado Twister Tracks:- https://youtu.be/xPjI-mZwBOU Hot Wheels Mega Hauler With 20 Cars:- https://youtu.be/bs-ndww6mJU Hot Wheels Croc Attack with a Car:- https://youtu.be/nDSrIFwHLzo Unboxing Hot Wheels Cars:- https://youtu.be/C-asBBIDHsg Hot Wheels: Space Strife - Attack the Mother Spaceship:- https://youtu.be/Qvbt5K9qUuo More videos go our channel:- https://www.youtube.com/RashiVermaOfficial My other page link is given below. Facebook:- @rashivermaofficial https://www.facebook.com/rashivermaofficial Instagram:- @rashiverma.official https://www.instagram.com/rashiverma.official Twitter:- @imRashiVerma https://twitter.com/iamRashiVerma Pinterest:- @rashivermaofficial https://in.pinterest.com/rashivermaofficial

[an-angels-blessing]

Sugar Baby

Song🐣🎵- N/A

Artist🤸‍♂️🎤- N/A

Warnings😳⛔- Fluff, Dinozzo being... well Dinozzo

Prompt🥺🔥- N/A

A 5" 2' black haired woman who appeared to be in her late 20's walked into the quiet office area wearing a guest pass on the strap of her black cross bag. When the elevator door closed, the team's eyes were on this beautiful ebony woman.

~~~~~~~ Reader P.o.v.~~~~~~~

As I walk into the room I don't see who I came here to see, but I can recognize a few members from Jethros description. As I walk over to the group of NCIS agents, who I believe is Dinozzo, walks over to me, taking my hand in his own and kissing it. This causes me to laugh slightly, "Hi, what's your name gorgeous?" I try not to bust out laughing knowing that if Jethro saw this he would flip. Y/N." I give him a quick answer before showing him a smile. I could see the people behind him tense at his attempt to flirt with me. "Well Y/N, I'm Anthony Dinozzo, but you can call me Tony. Where have you been my whole life?" He finally drops my hand as he finishes talking, a cocky smirk planted on his face, not a Jethro smirk but a fuck boy smirk. "London and Married." Those 3 words cause his mouth to hang open and the 2 people behind him to laugh, loudly. I push his chin up, closing his mouth and pat his shoulder as I walk away from him, towards the other 2 agents. "I'm Ziva David and this is Timothy Mcgee. How can we help you?" The female agent holds her hand out for me to shake and I quickly accept with a smile. I then shake Tim's hand and then take a quick look around the entire room. "Is agent Gibbs here at the moment?" The three agents tense at my mention of their stoic boss. "He is down in Autopsy, he should be back soon. Is there something you need him for?" Mcgee breaks the silence in the room, causing me to nod my head. "Well have a seat Y/N" Dinozzo suddenly snaps back into action, point in the direction of what I am guessing is his desk. I take one last look around the room and land on the 4 desks in my vicinity. I take in all the aspects and finally spot Jethro's desk, there is a cup of coffee on the desk, and even more in the trash. I take a seat in his chair and I can see the agents instantly tense and stress. "You might not want to-" Before Tony can finish his sentence I grab the cup off the desk and take a sip. The three agents almost faint, and if the situation was different I would have laughed. Before the agents could get me out of his seat, Jethro exits the elevator. "What the hell are the three of you looking at?" I'm guessing that he hasn't seen me by his words but when he does, I could see his struggle to not smile, which makes me smile. "Boss, she was looking for you and she didn't know it was your desk." Tony goes into a frenzy trying to get his boss to not kill me.

This recieves him a smack to the back of the head, before Jethro grabs the cup out of my hand and takes a sip, shocking the agents. "You should have seen it J, Tony tried to flirt with me." A giggle escapes before I can even finish my sentence, I can see that he wants to be mad but a low chuckle escapes as he takes another sip. If his team wasn't shocked before, they are now. I can see that he wants to sit down, so I get up and go to get another chair, but before I can, Jethro sits down and grabs my waist, pulling me down on his lap. "Does someone want to explain what is happening?" I know that all of them want answers but Tony is the only one with the confidence. It's obvious that Jethro isn't going to answer by the way he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him before picking up a file off his desk. I go to answer but the elevator dings and Abby walks out, almost instantly seeing me. "Mrs. Gibbs!" Tony's knees buckle at her outburst of my name, causing not only his coworkers to laugh but me as well. "Hello Abby, stop with the misses. I'm younger than you babe." She rushes over to me and hugs me, attempting to not anger Jethro by moving me off of his lap. "G-g-gibbs?!" I think Tony was still coming to grips with Abby's use of my last name. I try to stand up to introduce myself properly but he refuses to let me stand so I remain on his lap and lean into his touch. "Hi, I'm Y/N Gibbs. This man's wife " I rub his thigh, no one can see it, but the tightening of his grip on my waist let's me know that he had a reaction to it. "You're married to him?!" I could feel Jethro tense, I know he has

insecurities about the age gap between the two of us. This made me get extremely defensive, "What.... did you expect me to date you? Sorry, well... not really." Abby starts squealing, she already knew about us but she gets excited everytime. The sequel grabbed EVERYONE'S attention, causing her to quickly apologize. I could tell that Dinozzo wanted to say something else. "Speak Tony." He tensed at my tone and thought about canceling the thought before actually speaking. "So... Sugar Daddy?" This catches all of us of guard, but nonetheless it makes me laugh, I can't tell if he's serious or if he's joking, which only makes me laugh harder. "I have an IQ of 195, I don't need a sugar daddy" I can't help but laugh again. "I'm sorry, but-" Before Mcgee could finish his sentence, Jethro spoke and I mimicked him in a terrible American Accent. "Rule 6" He quickly silenced himself, "I'm joking, he's not. Continue Tim." I smile at the shy male, it can't be easy remembering Jethros rules. "With an IQ that high, shouldn't you be famous." I don't exactly know what to this statement, because I'm not famous in the way he'd think. "So what do you do?" I sigh, thinking of how to answer the boy, so I settled with part of the truth. "I'm a student at Marymount University." Someone else was about to speak up when my phone rang and I instantly know who it was, JJ, telling me that we had a new case. "L/N speaking." After speaking, I could hear Jethro whisper into my other ear, "Liar." The first words that came out of her mouth was exactly what I was expecting. "We got a new case, D.C. district. Call that husband of yours, last victim was a Naval officer. Meet at the table." I could hear Em and Spence in the back, talking about God knows what with how Spence's brain works. "I'm in D.C." I could hear slight giggles from my statement, they didn't know I drove an hour just to see Jethro. "Ok, I'll get Garcia to send you the file." After her sentence, she hangs up, supposedly to call the rest of the team. I knew Jethro heard the entire conversation by the way he released his grip on my waist. When I don't move, he looks at me confused. "I'll look at the file from your computer, plus... they'll be here anyway." He moves us towards his computer so I could use it, before rounding up his team. "We got a case, but we're consulting with the FBI. They'll be here in 30 minutes to an hour." I saw the confusion on his team's face, Jethro wasn't one to comply especially when it comes to the FBI, but it's me so.... whatever. "What are you standing around for. Go." His tone was less than friendly, causing his team to jump into action, it was nice being on the outside view, a few of them went to the elevators while the rest went on their computers. I think he noticed the smile on my face, because I could hear Jethro chuckle. "First time seeing it?" This made me giggle, "Yeah, normally I'm the one rushing to pack and stuff." He pulled me closer and leaned his chin on my shoulder looking at the screen. "You read it." He whispered into my ear. "Because you can't read or because you want to hear my accent." He chuckled at my comment. "Both, now read." This made me smile. "Murders husbands and wives. There seems to be quite a large age gap between the couples. The husband's are killed execution style, while the wives are raped and tortured." I begin to read the file loud enough for Jethro to hear. "Latest victims, Johnathan and Martha Waves. Jonathan was a Senior Chief Petty Officer, just got home after an 18 month expedition. No children or pets. Jonathan was 68 and Martha 24" His breath was hot on my neck, and it was honestly kind of distracting. Before I can say anything, Tony walks in with the keys to the van. "Ready boss." I could recognize that Jethro didn't want to leave me, it's rare that we see each other. "Go, I'll be fine here. I'll look into my case." He reluctantly nods his head and we both stand up, he kisses my forehead before walking away with Tony, McGee and Ziva following close behind. I sat there, scrolling through the file waiting for

either my team or Jethro to come back. Yet somehow, Abby got the message that I was starting to get bored, because when she walked out of the elevator, she walked directly to me. "I thought you had a case, why are you still here?" She sounds glad, but still slightly disappointed as she pulls a chair from one of the other desks and takes a seat. "My case is here, the latest victim was a naval officer." As soon as those words left my mouth, she got excited. "So I can see how you work?" We both giggle, we continue to talk until we hear the elevator door open. Out walks Spence, JJ, Em, Derrick, Rossi, Aaron, Jethro, McGee, Ziva, and Tony. As they reached the small area, they spot Abby and me. McGee, Ziva, and Tony all give me a confused look. "Let me introduce my team, I am Aaron Hotchner, this is Derick Morgan, Emily Prentice,  Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi, Dr. Spencer Reid, and you seem to already be familiar with Dr. Y/N L/N." Hotch points to each member as he introduces them, before pointing to me. "I thought you said you were a student?" Dinozzo's jaw almost hits the floor, "I am, 3rd PHD." I smile innocently and I can almost see the smirk start to form on Jethro's face. "Okay, let's get to work." As the groups split off, we all started looking at the evidence we learned from the crime scenes. There was just something I couldn't understand, I think Spence and Em could see the cog wheels turning in my head. "What's going through that beautiful head of yours?" Em was the first to acknowledge my struggle. "Age gap." My voice was low and I was mumbling. "What?" Spence asked me, "Why age gaps? There always is one." As that sentence came out of my mouth, something clicked, but I had to be sure. I took out my phone and called Garcia. "House of Supreme genius, how many I serve you today?" I giggle at her. "Hey sweetheart, could you look at all the wives checking accounts. How much is coming in, going out, and where? Call me back when you get it." I could hear rapid typing from her side of the phone. "The accent gets me every time, how could I say no. I got you babe, Garcia out!" I could feel the stares from not only Em and Spence, but the rest of the team now. "Would you like to share with the class?" Morgan can't help but be snarky, like Dinozzo but cuter. "Why go after age gaps? That's what I couldn't figure out." I try to talk slow, but the anticipation of Garcia's call is getting to me. "And something Dinozzo said earlier made me realize something." They were all waiting for me to continue when my phone rang. "Hello," I could hear Garcia's chair roll across her floor, assumingly to her other computer. "So, the wives seem to be getting $4000 to $8000 weekly into their checking accounts. And they seem to spend it as fast as it comes. The first Victim, Cindy Washington, was a shopaholic, she spent tens of thousands online a month." So I was right, "Thank you darling. I'll call you if I need anything." I hang up the phone and turn back to the group. "Dinozzo asked if I was a sugar baby, which I'm not. But all of these women, are."

Masterlist

[mydogisveryadorbs]

sick | jj maybank x reader

summary: you get sick and all jj wants is to take care of you

warnings: cursing, tooth rotting fluff, mentions of getting sick and throwing up, jj being so fucking soft

masterlist :)

(gif credit to the owner)

1.8k+ words

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You hate getting sick.

The first time you were truly sick was in fourth grade when you had gotten a bad case of the flu. The whole ordeal had scarred you so badly that even six years later you will do everything in your power to avoid getting sick.

The pogues quickly discovered your fear when a few years ago, Pope had told you he wasn't feeling good and you completely avoided him until he was absolutely healthy again. It had become a running joke amongst the five of you, but they all made sure to let you know if they were sick so you wouldn't catch anything.

When you woke up Friday morning with an achy feeling in your body and a runny nose, you immediately wanted to burst into tears. 

Your parents had taken your little brother up to Pennsylvania for the annual family visit two days ago. It was the first year they had allowed you to stay behind on your own and you were so excited to spend the next two weeks doing whatever you wanted with your best friends and boyfriend.

Now, staring up at the ceiling of the Chateau, you come to the realization that all of your plans could be thrown out the window. 

You are sick.

Looking to your left, you see your blonde-haired boyfriend drooling onto the pillow next to yours, soft snores coming from his parted lips.

You and JJ have been dating for over a year now. You had been best friends since he started mowing your lawn in middle school. Sometime around your freshman year of high school, you had realized your feelings for the blonde boy were more than platonic. It had taken over a year of flirting and your friends setting the two of you up before you finally admitted your feelings. From there, your relationship with JJ took off. JJ had a lot of emotional trauma and had a difficult time letting people in, but when it came to you, everything was just easy.

Even in your groggy, sick state, you couldn't help but admire the beautiful boy in front of you. As softly as you can, you use your pointer finger to delicately trace his features. It baffles you still how you were able to get a boy like JJ to love you.

You smile softly as his features relax under your touch. Suddenly, your nose starts to tingle and you quickly turn away before letting out a loud sneeze. One sneeze turns into three and you reach to grab a tissue off the nightstand and rub your running nose.

You feel a familiar hand rub your back as you attempt to blow your nose.

“What's wrong, beautiful,” JJ says quietly from behind you, his voice laced with worry and sleepiness. “Are you sick.”

Hastily, you shake your head. “No, I feel fine, J,” you attempt to convince him, but even you can hear the congestion in your voice.

JJ moves so that he is sitting in front of you. He presses the back of his hand against your forehead. “Holy shit, you're burning up,” he says, clearly concerned about you.

The only thing worse than actually being sick was having people fuss over you while you are.

“I'm seriously fine, JJ,” you tell him, “It's probably just allergies.”

You can tell that he is about to argue back with you, but before he can get in a word, a sharp knock at the door cuts him off. The door opens and John B’s head pokes through.

“Hey lovebirds,” he says cheekily, “You guys almost ready to go down to the docks?”

JJ shakes his head looking at you softly. “Sorry man, I think we're going to stay in today,” he tells the brunette. “(Y/N)’s not feeling good.”

You roll your eyes. “I feel perfectly fine,” you argue despite the growing ache you feel in your temples. “It's just a little stuffy nose.” Your boyfriend tries to argue, but you cut him off with the raise of your hand. “JJ please,” you say, giving him your best puppy dog eyes, “I really want to go on the boat.”

JJ sighs, unable to say no to you when you give him that look. “Fine, whatever,” he grumbles rolling out of the bed to get your stuff ready. 

Ten minutes later the five of you and Sarah are loading onto The Pogue. The bright sun above you increases the pounding in your head and as soon as you step onto the boat, your stomach starts to churn.

As Pope maneuvers The Pogue away from the Chateau and out to the marsh, JJ makes his way to sit next to you, wrapping one of his toned arms around your shoulders. He hands you a beer from one of his hands, but you place it in your lap.

The pogues chat around you and the nauseous feeling in your stomach grows.

“(Y/N),” Kie calls from the other side of the boat where here and Sarah are seated. “Come over here. I feel like I haven't seen you in forever.”

You giggle through your pain. “I saw you two days ago,” you tell her.

Kie smiles. “Two days too long, girlie.”

JJ moves his arm and watches as you stand up. You wobble slightly and he notices as your face pales. 

“You aren't looking too hot, (Y/N),” John B cautions and JJ quickly stands up to help you balance.

“Maybe you should sit down, lovie,” he pleads softly into your ear. He guides you to sit back into your seat, crouching down in front of you. JJ cups your cheek with his big hand, grimacing when he feels how warm you are. 

“I'll be fine, JJ,” you tell him with a sniffle, eyes closed as your brain pounds in your skull. 

“No – no. We are going back right now,” JJ all but scolds you before turning to look at the dark-haired boy in front of the wheel. “Pope, turn around now.”

JJ sits back next to you and pulls your body into his chest as you feel the boat come to life. He strokes your hair in an attempt to soothe you. You vaguely hear him grumble about how you should have listened to him earlier.

When the boat pulls into the dock a few minutes later, your blonde boyfriend guides you off and towards the Chateau.

Before you can make it to the porch, you get a churning feeling in your stomach and you run to the nearest bush. Everything you have eaten in the past twenty-four hours is emptied into the shrubbery outside John B’s. 

You feel JJ’s gentle hand running small circles on your back as he holds your hair away from your face. You get sick two more times before you sit back onto your heels. 

“You alright, baby,” JJ asks so soothingly, his fingers reaching to push back the hair that had fallen onto your forehead.

“I'm fine,” you say with a sniffle, trying to hold back the tears. “I think I'm done now.”

JJ sighs. “You just threw up three times, lovie. It's okay to not be fine,” he tells you. “Will you just let me take care of you. Why are you so stubborn?”

“I just didn't want to be a burden,” you explain to him, not looking up to meet his eyes.

He cups your cheek, lifting your head so that your eyes meet his. “You could never be a burden, (Y/N), not when all I've ever wanted is to care for you.”

His honest words mixed with the gross feeling you have after spilling your guts cause tears to cascade down your cheeks. You choke out a sob and JJ quickly gathers you into his arms. “I've got you, baby,” he coos. “You're gonna be alright, m’kay?”

A few minutes later, your sobs die down and JJ moves so his right arm is hooked under your legs. He carries you inside and places you down gently on the bed in the guest room.

You let him tuck you into the covers and your eyes flutter shut when he presses a soft kiss to your head. “JJ,” you sigh, opening your eyes and looking in his cerulean ones. “You should probably go.” A look of hurt flashed across his face so you quickly grab his hand. “I just don't want to get you sick, J.”

JJ pretends to roll his eyes in annoyance, but the corner of his lips can't help but pull up into a smile. “I don't care if you get me sick, lovely,” he tells you softly. “All I care about right now is getting you better.” 

You nod, not having the energy to fight back. “Well if you are going to stay anyways, can you give me cuddles?” you ask, your eyes half-lidded as you stare up at JJ. “I'm cold.”

He smiles, pulling back the covers next to you and slipping in next to you. You are pulled to his chest and you try to get comfortable, but worn material of JJ’s muscle tank scratches your cheek.

Pulling away slightly, you tug at the hem. “What's wrong, beautiful?” JJ asks in concern.

You groan. “Your shirt is scratchy,” you complain to him.

JJ laughs softly, but obliges nonetheless, quickly pulling his shirt over his head. You immediately snuggle back into his toned chest, eyes drooping in exhaustion.

The blonde pulls away enough for his eyes to scan your face. “You know, even though your hair is plastered to your forehead and you're a snotty mess, you've never looked lovelier.”

Your eyes open wide at his words, not able to comprehend how you managed to get a guy like him.

“I love you,” he says, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb moving back and forth lovingly. “Even at your worst, I can't help but still love you.”

Tears well in your eyes and you bring your lips up to meet his in a passionate kiss. JJ returns the kiss with an equal amount of love. It was nowhere near the first time the two of you had shared those three words, but it still shook you to your core each time.

Feeling the need to sneeze, you pull away a few seconds later. 

You sneeze twice, going in for a third but it never comes. You hear JJ chuckle from behind you and you groan at the feeling.

You fall back into JJ’s arms, leaning your back against his chest, and the blonde boy wraps his arm around your middle and holds you securely. He presses a soft kiss to your head and you let your eyes flutter shut.

“Please get better soon,” JJ whispers a few minutes later, thinking that you are fast asleep. “I can't stand to see you this way.” 

Your heart grows two sizes in your chest and with JJ’s arms holding you tight, you drift off to a dreamless sleep.

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masterlist :)

[maddiwrites]

Secret Lives (Part 3)

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: You and JJ never got along so your friends trap the two of you on a boat in the middle of the marsh to work it out. Only it doesn’t go as planned. 

Note: Hey guys! Remember this little series I wrote? A lot of people asked for a part three and I truly had no plans to write one, but I came up with one for you if you if guys are even still interested, who knows. I don’t know how I feel about it. Kinda seems dramatic of me, but oh well. Its been in my drafts for forever so I’m finally posting it. Let me know!! If I tagged you, its because you were tagged in part 2 or asked to be tagged in part 3! 

Word count: 6k

Warnings: mentions of abuse, drugs, violence, and death

 Part 1   Part 2    Masterlist

The relationship you and JJ had transpired into something no one saw coming. Your friends thought your friendship was unsalvageable after what happened when they trapped you in the middle of the marsh with one another. You had reached your breaking point and they didn’t think you’d ever come back to them. But you did. Not only did you come back to them, but you came back to JJ. 

The two of you, once closed off around each other, were now inseparable. You spent almost every day together. You followed him around his work schedule and he snuck through your window any chance he got because he didn’t want to spend one night without you. Your family was surprisingly very accepting of JJ. Your mother was first worried, knowing how men on the Cut can grow into something/someone no parent would want for their daughter. And Andrew knew of Luke Maybank from word of mouth and was afraid JJ might be just like him. But the first night you invited him to dinner at your house, your parents welcomed him into your family. He was polite, mature, and personable throughout the whole meal. You remembered that night well. The morning of, he  called you panicking because he didn’t know what to wear. You told him to wear whatever he wanted, but he was afraid the Kildare County T shirt and cargo shorts wouldn’t send the right message. So you took him shopping on the mainland. Together you took the ferry and made him play dress up in stores you knew he couldn’t afford. He felt bad that you were paying for his new wardrobe, but you promised it was something you wanted to do because you would do anything to make him feel better about this night. That night he came to your door with a bouquet of flowers for your mother and a bottle of Scotch he told Andrew his dad bought for him for that night. Your little sister absolutely adored him, barely giving him enough time to kiss you hello or goodbye. 

You and JJ were more alike than either of you could even imagine. Your temper wasn’t as short as JJ’s, but you weren’t afraid of a fight when it presented itself to you. Your mother always said that’s what happens when you grow up on the Cut. You learn to fight for what you want and need. Most of the time JJ liked that about you. Seeing you standing up for yourself was a huge turn on to him and he felt prideful when onlookers would watch impressed because they didn’t expect a girl from Figure Eight to fight like that. He never let it get physical though even though he always thought it would be hot to see you in a cat fight with some rich bitch from your school. He cared too much about you to let you get hurt. 

You and JJ have another similarity no one outside of the Pogues know about. Although you hate it more than anything, you and JJ live through the trauma of having an abusive father. As if dealing with your father alone wasn’t stressful enough, he created a few fights between you and your boyfriend. JJ was constantly on your case when you were hiding a new bruise or silently frustrated from a previous conversation with your father. You tried not to find it overbearing because JJ was just concerned. You promised you’d stop seeing your father. It was easier for you than for JJ because you had another family to fall back on. A loving mother, a generous step father, and a boisterous little sister. The perfect family. Which is why you felt so guilty that they didn’t seem like enough. ‘Cause it didn’t matter how much money Andrew had, or if he said he loved you like his own, or that he promised you he would never hurt your mother on the day he proposed. He wasn’t your real dad. Your real dad was out there, living in filth and drugs. Without a second income, he couldn’t pay his bills or own a car to drive himself to work every day. He blamed that on you and your mother and you fell for his pity party every single time. 

JJ knew when you were lying. You’d wearing more clothes on the days you were hiding your skin and quieter on the days when you were thinking back to the hateful things your father yelled at you the day before. He hated that there was someone out there laying their hands on you and there was nothing he could do about it. JJ knew the kind of damage that could happen if he tried to physically intervene and it didn’t work. Every time he brought it up, it would only start a heated argument. You would bring up his own father and how JJ wouldn’t let you say anything to Luke, even on the days you two were face to face at Barry’s home with your own father. You hated that JJ thought he could come between you and your father, but you couldn’t do the same. It was hard to believe you two were using your own father’s against each other to prove a point.

Today was no different. It was sunny, cloudless day in the middle of the summer. Which meant the perfect boat day for you and your Pogues. John B was excited to fish, JJ and Pope were excited to swim, Kie to tan. And you? Well you weren’t excited all at. Because last night was a particularly bad night between you and your dad. 

He had taken you out to Barry’s again, forcing you to come inside so he could show you off like his own personal wallet. He drained you of another four hundred dollars after Barry threatened to shoot your father in the head if he didn’t get his money. And you hesitated. Not because you wanted your father to die, but because you had never had a gun pointed at another person in your vicinity. Ever. But that’s not how your dad took it. When you dropped him off, he had you come inside so he could give you his unpaid utility bills. When you least expected it, your dad shoved you hard into the countertop, the corner of it jabbing into your side. Even when you fell to the floor, your father didn’t stop kicking you in your stomach. He called you ungrateful and disloyal. He told you he wished you had never been born - how you ruin everything. You cried into the tiled floors until your dad tired himself out, grabbed a beer, and went to bed.

Your torso was covered in blue and purple bruises when you woke up. Even the warm water from you shower this morning felt like a million little needles pricking your skin.  You contemplated texting the Pogues, telling them you felt sick and that you couldn’t go today. But when you looked out the window and saw the perfect day, you didn’t want to miss out on the sun or a day out with your friends. Your father’s taken a lot from you, but you wouldn’t let him take this.

You wore a one piece bathing suit you had no intention of showing anyone today. JJ greeted you first when the Pogue pulled up to your dock. His arm wrapped around your waist, his hand lightly squeezing your side. You inevitably flinched but forced out a giggle to make it look like JJ had only tickled you. Not hurt you. No one thought anything of it. No one but JJ. He watched you with a narrowed gaze as you said your hellos to the others and popped a squat next to Kie and Sarah.

When John B docked the boat, everyone immediately undressed to get into the cool water.

“C’mon, babe. You’re my partner for Chicken,” JJ walked up to you, the two of you the only ones on the boat.

You looked up and admired his shirtless, toned body. His tan skin glowed against the North Carolina sun and you couldn’t understand how you got so lucky to call him yours.

Then you remembered your predicament and looked out towards your friends to avoid his stare. “I’m not feeling that great today, J.”

“What’s wrong?” JJ asked but he didn’t need to. He already knew what was wrong. He just wanted to see if you would lie about it again.

“Just nauseous,” you said, “I think I ate some bad eggs this morning or something.”

“Some bad eggs, huh?” JJ scoffed.

“JJ...” you sighed. You knew he didn’t buy your lame excuse. You wouldn’t either if it was the other way around.

“You went to see him again, didn’t you?” It wasn’t a question it was a statement.

“Can we not do this here? Please.” You practically begged. You knew this argument could get heated. It usually always did. Neither of you meant to get mad at one another. In the end, it was your dad who was in the wrong. But you guys didn’t like seeing the other one hurt. It was both frustrating and exhausting.

JJ rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He dove into the water head first and swam out towards his friends.

You dropped your head on the boat’s steering wheel, your forehead thumping against it. You wished cutting ties with your dad was as it easy as it sounds. But now you know that Barry would kill your dad if you didn’t show up for him with the money he owed. And you couldn’t let that happen. It would feel like murdering your own father.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

A week later, you found yourself at another boneyard party with your friends. You tried your best to enjoy the night despite your boyfriend giving you the cold shoulder. He was still mad about the incident on the boat. The two of you fought about it when you got back to the Chateau. He knew you were holding something back from him. And you were. You never mentioned Barry or the drugs or the gun to him. As far as JJ knew, you paid your dad’s bills and took him out to lunch every once in a while. And you wanted to keep it this way - afraid of what he might think knowing you were spending time with not only a notorious drug dealer, but his own father.

“I’m gonna get another drink,” you tell Kie as the two of you watched JJ and John B play beer pong against two Tourons.

She nodded and kept her eyes trained on the winning Pogues.

Before you reached the keg, a hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you away from the crowd, towards the water. When you looked up at who it was, you ripped your hand away and glared at the blonde Kook.

“Y/N -“

“What the hell do you want, Rafe?” You could tell he was high. His eyes wouldn’t stop flickering back between yours, his balance was off, and his pupils were dilated.

“I - I screwed up. I don’t have the money - I didn’t make enough money for Barry’s blow. He’s gonna kill me.”

“Hey, hey. Calm down,” you looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

“You need to help me. You need to sell this -“ he tried shoving small baggies into your hands but you pulled yourself away like he was offering your a lit flame.

“Are you out of your mind. Put that away!”

“I wasn’t - wasn’t keeping track of how many people were using my shit. And then there was this girl -“

“Rafe, I can’t do this.”

“JJ can help. Yeah? His dad -“

“JJ stays out of this,” you took another step towards him so you were face to face with the Kook and he could see how serious you were, even through his high state of mind. “You hear me? JJ’s nothing like his dad and I swear to god I’ll kill you first if you say anything to him.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Rafe raised his voice, frustrated that he couldn’t come up with any other ideas of how he was supposed to get his money back.

“Hey!” You froze when another voice broke you and Rafe apart. JJ walked up from behind you and pointed his finger at the Kook. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get away from her.”

You let JJ pull you behind him but kept your eyes on Rafe, trying to warn him from saying anything to your already fired up boyfriend.

Rafe sniffled and took a step back. “Nothing, dude. Relax. Okay?”

“Didn’t look like nothing.”

“Rafe was just leaving,” you said and kept your eyes on Rafe.

“Y/N, you don’t understand. Barry -“

“Rafe!”

JJ’s head snapped in your direction and his brows furrowed in confusion. He knew that name. His dad’s mentioned that name before. It’s usually followed by coke prices.

Rafe just glared at you. “If I die, it’s on you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and looked down at the sand as Rafe walked away. JJ slowly turned to look at you as his brain scrambled to put the pieces together.

“Y/N...”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You said quickly.

“How do you know Barry?” JJ pushed. He didn’t care if you didn’t want to talk about it. He was tired of letting you push him away.

“He’s my dad’s dealer, J. We’ve been over this.” You tried walking away from him but he grabbed your wrist to make you look at him.

“You been to his house?” JJ asked. When you didn’t answer, he took a step back and looked at you incredulously. “You work for him now?”

You glared at him. “Of course not!”

“Then -“

“My dad makes me pay for his shit, okay? And I can’t stop or else Barry will kill him.” You snapped. Tears pricked at your waterline and threatened to fall.

“Barry won’t kill -“

“He pointed a gun at his head the other day! I was there! I had to scoff up hundreds of dollars to save his life.” You shook your head. “And that still wasn’t enough to save myself from a stupid beating. So please stop telling me how much easier it is for me to escape him. Stop telling me how lucky I am to have such a great family to rely on. Because I don’t! If I don’t help my dad out, I might as well sign his death warrant myself.”

JJ’s heart physically cracked in his chest at the sight of you. You were falling apart. Here at a boneyard party, where you should be having fun and forgetting about your problems. But instead he pushed you too far, and although he was relieved to finally hear the truth from you, he wished it had been in the privacy of your home or the Chateau. When he looked over your shoulder, he saw the worried looks of the Pogues looking at them. He didn’t know if he heard them, but he hoped they hadn’t. He still needed time to process this without the pestering questions from his friends. Even if they meant well.

“Okay,” JJ said softly. “Okay. I won’t say anything. I’m sorry. Can we just - “ he sighed. “Can we just go back to the Chateau? I just wanna hold you.”

You sniffled and meekly nodded your head. You were angry and frustrated. But not at him. At Rafe. At your own father. At the world. And you just wanted your boyfriend too.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

That night, you fell asleep pretty fast. From your sore body, to the sleepless nights thinking about Barry and his threats, and the warmth of JJ’s body held against you, your exhausted state quickly took over you. You felt like you could sleep for hours.

JJ, however, did not. He stared up at the blank ceiling with his forearm tucked under his head as his other arm stayed wrapped around you. He couldn’t stop picturing you at Barry’s home with a bunch of old low lifes, scared and innocent. He wondered if his dad was ever there - if he ever said anything to you.

He hated that there wasn’t anything he could do for you unless your dad was gone.

Gone.

And idea popped into his head like someone flicked a light switch on in his brain. He turned his head, back and forth, looking for your phone. When he found it charging on his night stand, he stretched his arm out for it, careful not to wake up your sleeping figure.

He secretly knew your passcode after subtly watching you type it in a couple weeks ago.

His fingers tapped against your screen until he found the app he was looking for. Glancing down at you one last time, he shared your location with his phone.

When you squirmed in his embrace, JJ quickly put the phone back where he found it and pretended to be asleep in case you peeked an eye open at him. He hoped you didn’t feel his heart racing against his rib cage or his uneven breaths. He knew if you found out what he was doing, you’d be pissed. But before he fell asleep, he promised he was going to do anything necessary to keep you safe.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On the day JJ knew you were going to be busy all day babysitting your neighbor’s kids, he rode his bike to Kildare County’s police station. He stared at the entrance for a long couple of seconds, hating every second of being in near proximity to this place. Basically going against every natural instinct he had to stay away and not trust the police.

But he was doing this for you.

He walked in, ignoring the couple of looks from officers he’s encountered over the years. They were mostly surprised he wasn’t being forced through the doors with his hands cuffed behind his back.

“I need to see Sheriff Peterkin, please.” JJ says politely.

The older woman looked JJ up and down. “Do you have an appointment?”

“It’s the fucking police station. Since when do you have to make appointments? You assume people are just gonna know when an emergency is going to happen?”

“Look kid -“

“JJ.” JJ turned and relief washed over him when he saw Sheriff Peterkin in the hallway looking at him confused but also concerned.

“I need your help.” JJ admitted. He hated cops. Probably always will. But he trusted Sheriff Peterkin. She’s always tried to help John B through his DCS struggles. She actually cared about what he wanted and never took the easy way out just to make her work load lighter. She remembered why she took the oath every day.

Peterkin never really liked the Maybank kid in particular, but she was able to see something in him pretty much every cop couldn’t. She saw the loyalty and the determination his friends saw. She could tell he didn’t want to grow up to be like his father.

She led him into her office and shut the door behind them for privacy. She gestured towards the seat in front of her desk and asked him to explain what was going on.

JJ’s mouth moved a hundred miles per minute. He told her how your mother didn’t know you would sneak out to see your dad despite the custody agreement. He mentioned the bills he made you pay and the bruises he would leave you despite your efforts to help him. He teared up when he mentioned his own dad - and how his father and your father had the same dealer. How your dad would make you go inside Barry’s home and use you like a a community bank account. He even told her about the gun Barry threatened to use on your dad right in front of you.

“Why are you tell me all of this?” Peterkin says slowly. She studied the boy in front of her who was slowly falling apart and felt sympathetic for the young blonde. It didn’t take a genius to know why JJ was telling her this.

“Because...y/n... she has a heart of gold,” JJ sniffled. “She won’t leave her dad behind to be homeless or killed because that man is her blood. It doesn’t matter if he beats her black and blue. She always goes back because she thinks she owes him.” He sighs. “I want him gone. I don’t care what you do to him. Arrest him, kill him. I don’t really care. Although the second choice sounds more strategic -“

“JJ -“

“And I don’t want her getting in any sort of legal trouble because it’s not her fault. She doesn’t do drugs or deal them or anything like that. She just stands there and watches her dad blow his money on coke and who knows what else. And her mom? Her mom has no clue what’s going on but it’s not her fault. Y/n is really good at hiding her pain. She forces a smile every day and -“ JJ’s breath hitched in his throat when he thought about how you faked your happiness every single day and how a girl like you should never feel as worthless as you do. “Her mom’s a good mom. And I don’t want people blaming her or taking Y/n away from her because they think she can’t control her -“

“Hey, look at me,” Peterkin says softly. She wanted to reach over the desk and squeeze his hand to comfort him. “I understand.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I remember having to visit their home when Mrs. Y/L/N was still married to him. Y/N mother’s a good woman. I wouldn’t let anyone come between them.”

“What about her dad? I tried convincing her to never see him again but she won’t do it. She’s afraid Barry will kill him.”

“I can’t bust into Barry’s home without probable cause -“

JJ stood up. “That’s bullshit! You know -“

“Without probable cause or evidence that proves Barry is holding drugs or being violent, I can’t barge into that home.”

“That’s -“

“Here,” Peterkin writes her number down on a post it note and hands it to JJ. “Without probable cause, I can’t arrest Barry and the men who work or buy from him.” She stared at JJ, hoping the boy will understand her hidden message. She points at the post it in JJ’s hands. “Now. If you need anything from me. Call that number and I will find you.”

JJ looked down at the number and slowly nodded his head, understanding what he would have to do.

“And JJ -“ the blonde turned. “Be aware of where your father is when you call me. I dont want you ending up in the same situation as your friend John B if that’s not where you want to be.”

JJ nodded. “Thank you Sheriff Peterkin.”

Peterkin nodded and walked him out of the station.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Three days later, JJ met his friends at the Wreck for lunch. He slowed his pace when he noticed the seat next to Pope wasn’t occupied and neither was the one next to Kie. 

“Where’s Y/N?” He asked them.

Kie looked at the others with furrowed brows. They all got the same text. The one where Y/N apologetically told them that something came up and wouldn’t be able to hang out today. They thought JJ would have known that. 

“She said she couldn’t make it,” Kie says. “We thought you knew.”

“Did she say why?” 

Pope shrugged. “Just that something came up.”

JJ ripped his phone out of his back pocket and scrolled through his messages with you. You didn’t text him - you didn’t even answer his good morning text. He knew what this meant. You didn’t like to lie, so you’re way of dodging questions you didn’t want to answer honestly is to make sure no one can ask you them. By avoiding them all together. JJ knew that. It made sense to him. 

“JJ, what’s going on?” John B asked his friends, recognizing the look on his best friend’s face. He was furious but also anxious. His leg hasn’t stopped bouncing up and down since he asked where you were. 

JJ clicked on the app that showed your location and saw you were deep into the south side of the Cut. He recognized the area of his father’s drug dealer. 

“We gotta go,” JJ stood up and motioned for his friends to follow. “Now. JB, you bring the Twinkie?”

“Yeah, but...” John B stuttered as he grabbed his stuff off the table. “What’s going on?”

“We're saving my girl from that douche bag she calls a father,” JJ says. “For good.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

John B pulled the Twinkie to the curb outside of Barry’s house, making sure to use the trees to hide his vehicle. The Pogues immediately recognized your car parked in Barry’s driveway. Confusion bubbled through their heads, but rage ignited in JJ’s.

“Why is she here?” Kie asked. 

JJ didn’t answer. He picked up his phone and clicked on Peterkin’s name. “It’s JJ.” The Pogues paused as they listened to JJ to talk to the Sheriff. “I -” He stopped when the sound of a gun shot being fired silenced all of them into panic. 

“JJ -” Peterkin called for him but JJ didn’t answer. He dropped the phone so fast and sprinted out of the van, towards the house. He didn’t care what kind of danger he was running into. He just knew he had to get you out of it. 

JJ ignored the calls from his best friends behind him as he ripped open the screen door. He stopped, looking left, right, up, down - anywhere for you.

He heard the commotion coming from Barry’s living room along with shouting and glass smashing. The first person he saw was Barry holding a gun up to the ceiling, pointed at the hole he left above him only seconds ago. He was glaring in the direction of you and your father, barely taking notice of the new kid in his home. Luke Maybank was the first to notice his son and narrowed his eyes in his direction. JJ gulped nervously - he didn’t know if it was because he was afraid of the guy with the gun or his dad. But what he feared the most was you not being okay.

Your eyes grew wide with fear when you saw the new face. You looked between JJ and Barry nervously, not knowing how Barry would react to the new member in his house. He was already pissed as it is, threatening to shoot you in front of your dad because neither of you could fork over the money your dad owed Barry. He was getting tired of the same old bullshit, and Rafe didn’t help. He stood silently in the corner with his fingers racked through his hair.

“Who the fuck are you?” Barry pointed the gun at JJ when he finally noticed him. 

“Hey, hey, hey, he’s good!” Luke came closer to Barry and said, “That’s my son.”

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Barry asked him. 

Luke looked past Barry at JJ for an answer he couldn’t give him. JJ glanced from Barry, to his dad, to you and gulped again as he tried to come up with answer. That’s when you understood what was going on. He was following you. 

You didn’t know if you should be mad or not. All you could focus on was the gun in Barry’s hand that’s still pointed in JJ’s direction. 

“Look, kid,” Your dad said to Barry, gaining his attention all over again. “I’ll make it up to you.” He put his hand on your shoulder and shoved you slightly forward. “You want to have her for the night? She’s all yours.”

Your head snapped in your father’s direction with your mouth open agape. Did your dad seriously just try to pimp you out? You felt betrayed, vile, used, and worthless. This isn’t something you do when you love your kid.

JJ seethed and clenched his hands in fists, ready to rock the shit out of your dad. “You son of a bitch -”

Luke, however, caught him in time, holding him by the arm and pulling him away from your dad. JJ tried fighting him off to get to your dad or you - to get you out of this entire home. He saw the scared look on your face and it made him want to set the entire house on fire. He’d do anything to protect you - to keep you safe. And right now, he thought he was failing. 

Then, red and blue lights flashed through the open windows, followed by loud sirens. Barry crossed the room to stand next to you and your father and looked out the window. When he saw the cops, he immediately swiveled around to point his gun at your boyfriend. 

“You called the fucking cops?” Barry sneered. 

“Stop!” You yelled to try and get Barry’s attention and away from JJ. 

You dad tried to use Barry’s distraction to his advantage and snuck up behind him to try and reach for the gun. Barry spun around and tried pulling his wrist away from your dad’s grip. As they fought for the gun and an upper hand, you ran across the room for JJ who immediately wrapped his arms around your waist. He kissed the top of your head and motioned for the front door, mumbling about leaving.

You nodded and grasped his hand in yours. When he turned to lead you out of there, another shot rang out and you flinched closer to JJ as he ducked and pulled your head down with his arms and shields your body with his. 

You heard a thump and the floor vibrated under your feet. 

“Shit -”

“Fuck -”

“What did you do that for -”

“Jerry? Hey! Jerry!”

Everything kind of moved in slow motion after that. You turned around to see what had happened and that’s when you saw your dad laying on the floor with a puddle of blood growing around his body. Your feet moved faster than your brain did to get to your dad. 

JJ tried reaching for you but you swiveled out of his grip and dropped to your knees in front of your dad’s body. His eyes were closed and his mouth open. You placed your hands on top of the wound in his stomach to get it to stop bleeding. You cried. You didn’t know why you were crying but you did. Hard and heavy, barely able to get your own breaths in. You didn’t pay attention to Rafe fleeing from the backyard, or Barry being stopped by the cops who stormed into the house with guns raised. You barely felt JJ place his hands on your shoulders to try and coax you up. All you saw and could feel was your dad’s dead body and his blood on your hands. 

“Honey,” You felt another set of hands touch your back as they knelt down next to you. You didn’t look at her but recognized the familiar voice. “He’s gone. It’s over.”

“No -” You voice was barely above a whisper. 

“I’m sorry. Let’s get you cleaned up. Okay?” 

Sheriff Peterkin nodded at JJ to help you up and lead you out of the house. He was  finally able to pull you up from your knees and placed a comforting hand on your lower back. 

Your friends watched from the barricade the police set up around the house. When they saw you, all of them either started to panic or cry. They thought your were hurt until JJ nodded at them to tell them you were okay. But they could see in your face you were anything but okay.

Another cop lead you to the back of an ambulance. You don’t even look at Luke being handcuffed next to Barry or Rafe disappearing in the trees. All you can think about is your dad. 

The EMT did a quick check up on you after realizing the blood on your hands was in fact not yours. Then they took a quick look at JJ and asked if there was someone they could call for you.

“My mom -” You whispered. 

The EMT nodded. “Do you have a number?”

You told the EMT her number and waited patiently as she walked away to call her. When the two of you were alone, JJ turned to look at you and reached out for your hands and held them in his lap. He rubbed his thumb up and down over the back of your hand and waited for you to say something. He didn’t know if any words could make this right. He didn’t know how to comfort you after you just witnessed your dad died. It didn’t matter if you hated him or not. You literally watched him take his last breath. Your own flesh and blood. That shit’s traumatizing. 

“I’m sorry,” JJ said when he realized you were not going to say anything. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just - I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“This is my fault.”

“No,” JJ shook his head. “No. It’s not your fault. It’s Barry’s. He was the one with the gun -”

“I should’ve walked away. From my dad. From all of this.” A single tear rolled down your cheek. “I enabled him. I allowed it to get this far.”

“You were doing what you thought was best for your dad.”

“I got him killed -”

“He did this to himself, Y/N. You were more than the perfect daughter. You literally couldn't be more perfect if you tried.” JJ wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer into his side and kissed the top of your head. “He didn’t deserve you. There’s nothing you could have done to prevent this.”

You cried into his shoulder, letting the sobs wrack through your body and your heart tear into millions of pieces. JJ held you tightly against him and whispered comforting words in your ears. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

JJ stood by you through your grieving process - through the good and the bad. He’s took your harsh words with a grain a salt when he noticed you were just trying to pick a fight, he held you when you cried into your pillow in the middle of the night, he was by your side for a hand to hold when you told your mother what happened and why you were at Barrys for the millionth time, and he was there to tell you he will always be there for you when you think he’s just going to up and leave like your dad did.

After your dad’s funeral, you stood in front of his tombstone with a solemn expression. Your dad was a piece of shit and didn’t deserve your love, money, and attention. You wished you could go back and time and never give it to him. At least that way you wouldn’t feel all these complicated emotions that made no sense. Love, hate, grief, relief. You didn’t know how to feel. 

Coming up behind you was JJ. He weaved his fingers with yours and kissed your temple. You couldn’t believe there was ever a day where JJ Maybank was your enemy. You didn’t think you’d be able to get through this without him.

“JJ,” You said and looked up at him. “Thank you.”

JJ nodded. “I love you.” He would never admit this, but he was glad you dad was dead. Because now he knew you were safe. 

“I love you more.”

JJ shook his head. “Impossible.”

Tag List: @allycat449-blog​ @zarahsloves​ @redknight9​

[shespeaksinsongs]

ABDUCTED?!?!!! EXPLAIN!

Are you ok? Are you safe? ARE YOU A HOT MAMI?!? don't answer that last one it's basically obvious

WAS IT THE ITALIAN MAFIA?!?

Well most important, are you ok?

AND SECOND MOST IMPORTANT

CONGRATULATIONS BETCH

I'm SO SO SO INCREDIBLY PROUD OF YOU FIOOOO

I can't believe someone famous like yourself even likes me 🧍‍♀️

I LOVE YOU AND KEEP BEING THE HOT MAMI BADDIE WITCHY SMART ABSURDLY BEAUTIFUL CREATURE THAT YOU ARE

Selena Quintanilla and J lo bow down 😌

Aghhhh this is GREAT

my almost abducted story:

i will explain. so my friend and i were at this "mall". it wasn't really a mall, i'm not even sure what it was. but it had a bunch of restaurants and shit and we walked into one to eat after a while of walking around. i got a shake, she got a sandwich. after a few minutes, i was almost done with my shake and this janitor crossed the path in front of the restaurant. right as he was about to go out of my view, i caught his eye and he didn't stop looking at me until he went behind the wall. so i was like ??? maybe he was looking at the wall behind me or smth. my friend and i kept eating and he crossed our path again. this time, i looked straight at him and he was looking straight at me. he was an old white man. he didn't stop looking at me, no matter what was in front of him, and kept wheeling his little trash bin until he was out of sight again. i told my friend that he was staring at me and she kinda laughed but didn't say anything more of it. the THIRD time, he does the same thing, staring at me immediately. i know i look terrified at this point. i get out my phone and call my dad right in front of him, not letting my eyes go off of him in case he does something. he keeps walking, and he's gone. at this point, my dad's coming to the mall as fast as possible. the janitor comes again, but this time he stops right in the middle of the front of the restaurant. he stands there and stares at me for a good full minute. i'm not making this up or dramatizing. it was one of the scariest moments of my life. the janitor did this another two more times until my dad showed up. before then, my friend was urging me to leave the mall with her because she didn't want to leave me alone, but her grandma was getting upset from waiting for her for so long (she was outside the mall in her car, picking her up). i didn't want to leave. she stayed with me until my dad picked me up and he escorted both of us to our cars. i didn't see the janitor again and i wouldn't even dream of going out alone without a man or adult anymore. by far, one of the scariest moments of my life. he was so creepy. i felt so disgusting and so unsafe, just with him looking at me. i'm so grateful nothing happened and i think about it every day now.

thank you marcela you are so sweet <333 :)) i am super excited about this milestone and my dad is SOOO happy for me, he's telling everyone. T-T

[realpaperdragon]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Hot Wheels Nissan J-Imports and Factory Fresh set of 4 cars.

[keylimeimagines]

chazari hcs because i love them <3

as my first official post, i decided to share some headcanons of one of my favorite ships in carmen sandiego, chase devineaux x agent zari :) enjoy!

the definition of malewife and girlboss (my favorite trope)

Both of them really like coffee dates after a long day of work (Chase likes his coffee black and Zari likes a classic hot latte)

I think that, as a child, Zari was quite lonely because of her intimidating persona (not that she cared that much). However, after Chase started to shower her with praises and love, she felt warm and star-struck.

Chase is the only one who Zari shows her soft side to, and he loves her so much <3

Devineaux is ALWAYS there for Zari (as shown in S3 E4). gotta protect your wife, right?

Zari likes to rant and talk about random things for hours, and Chase just likes to listen to her (he may or may not be able to recall what she was talking about, he just thinks it's cute when she goes on tangents like this)

Chase is the big spoon (bc he is, in fact, taller than Zari), but Zari is more dominant in the relationship (not surprising at all)

binge watching crime shows is their favorite kind of dates (besides coffee dates). and yeah, they definitely watch criminal minds and law & order.

julia is the biggest chazari shipper. no i do not take criticism.

Neither of them are particularly fond of PDA, but they are rather affectionate when in private (physical touch is one of devineaux's main love languages)

Chase is 5'11" (canon) and Zari is ~5'6" (not canon)

Zari's love languages are gift-giving and acts of service, and Chase's is physical touch and words of affirmation (giving)

Although Zari isn't the best with words, she makes up for it with her actions towards Chase (i.e. giving him coffee in the morning, taking him to his favorite place, giving small and scattered gifts, etc.)

chase is such a simp for zari. this is canon im the head of netflix /j

Although Zari is currently working with another unnamed ACME agent in the show, she still does (occasionally) work with Devineaux on some cases (which makes Chase happy)

Despite her snarkiness towards Chase, she does find his dorkiness rather cute (and teases him about it sometimes). take that one scene where she teases him about the banana suit incident.

teasing and snarky remarks towards each other is a very strong way for these two to flirt (and julia is casually the third wheel that has to deal with it all)

although they do get in some (and rare) fights, they don't really last long and it's normally over something small that they get over easily (and they make up over it by spending time together)

esfp chase and istj zari is a great concept

the first time they kissed was the first time chase had a meltdown (in a good way). tbh it was probably his first kiss in a LONG time.

chase believes in "I love my wife sm she is so fucking cool" supremacy and zari thinks it's so cute. now im thinking of chase in a cheerleader uniform just to support his wife

also yeah they are definitely married

[milfcodeddean]

I think like Bobby-John gets raised with a bit too much bribery in the early years, which like isn’t perfect parenting but is still leagues better than j*hn, but really it’s hard enough with human kids imagine trying to keep your shape shifting pre-schooler from changing forms in the middle of the play ground or trying to convince BJ to stay in one form for the week they need to be in a town for a case etc like m&ms and a new Polly Pocket or Hot Wheels are gonna go a long way

[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.  

[fruitcoops]

Hey I was wondering if you could do mix prompts 3, for coops! Like Harry saying his first words infront of everyone and it being like “loops” or “Remus” or something cute like that. Just everyone being jealous.

This prompt is so cute, I love it! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

Prompt 3: “You’d be a great dad”

Sirius buzzed with excitement as he and Remus drove the short distance to the Potters’ house—it had been three full days since he last saw Harry and the wait was killing him. Babies were terribly fragile and usually made him anxious, but there was something about cradling his tiny godson in his arms that calmed him through and through.

James and Lily’s holiday lights twinkled as they walked up the front steps, careful of the snow-covered concrete and shivering in the cold; a small sticker reading ‘baby inside—please knock gently! :)” in Lily’s swooping cursive decorated the doorbell. Moments after Remus’ knock, the door swung open.

“Hey, you two!” James grinned at them and bounced Harry on his hip as he moved aside. “You’re just in time, Lily made cocoa.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Remus said, ducking into the warm house and toeing his shoes of.

James narrowed his eyes and smacked him on the shoulder. “Language, Loops, my kid’s first word is not going to be cursing me out.”

“With you as his father, it might be,” Sirius snorted as he joined them. “Hey, J.”

“Long time, no see, man.” Their side-hug was a little awkward with the baby, but Sirius sank into it just the same.

“It’s been six hours since practice,” Lily laughed from the doorway, poking her head out of the kitchen. “How do you two survive apart?”

“They don’t,” Remus said wryly as he hung his scarf. “Can we see Pots? What do you think Pots and Lily are up to tonight? Will Harry still be awake?”

“I don’t sound like that!” Sirius complained, making a face at him. Harry burbled and reached for him. “Bonjour, mon petit chou. Have you been good for your parents?”

Lily cocked an eyebrow and handed Remus a steaming mug of cocoa. “He threw up on me an hour ago.”

“Aw, pauvre bébé.” Harry turned his huge green eyes on Sirius, reaching for a clump of his hair with a toothless smile. “I know, my hair is so messy from my hat—ope, okay, that’s a strong grip you’ve got.”

“Ope,” James mimicked. “You’re spending too much time with Loops.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He shifted Harry to his other hip. “So, when can he have a sleepover with us?”

Lily gave him a disbelieving look. “He’s less than a year old.”

“…and? He sleeps through the night.”

“You want responsibility over a child?”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “He’s my godson, we can handle it. Right, honey?” Remus took a long sip of hot chocolate in lieu of a response. “I thought you liked kids!”

“I love kids, but that doesn’t mean I want a whole infant in our house,” Remus laughed. “We can barely take care of Hattie. Where would we even put him?”

“If you get proper stuff and both agree, you can have him for one night,” James said as they walked into the living room.

“One evening,” Lily corrected. “If that goes well, you can have him for the night when he’s a little older.”

Sirius adjusted the baby so he was perched on his lap, bouncing up and down in his reindeer footie pajamas. “Your mom and dad are so mean to me,” he sighed, tapping Harry on the nose. “Yes, they are!”

The answering string of nonsense baby babble warmed a place deep in Sirius’ heart and Remus leaned his head on his shoulder. “Hey, buddy,” he said with a bright smile. Harry giggled happily. “Yeah, hi. Are you having fun?”

“You’re getting so big! God, you’re cute.”

“C’mere, you, I need my baby snuggles.” Remus carefully took him and gave Sirius a kiss on the cheek as compensation.

“Do you have any plans for this weekend?” James asked, curling up next to Lily on the opposite couch. “We were thinking of going to the holiday market to see the lights.”

Sirius glanced at his fiancé, who was entirely absorbed in tickling the baby across his legs. “The holiday market would be a good idea, actually. Re, do we still need to pick up gifts for your parents?”

“Hmm?”

“Christmas presents for your folks.”

“Oh, yeah,” Remus looked back to James and Lily, who were watching them with fond smiles. “The holiday market sounds fun! There’s a bookstore down there that I’ve been wanting to check out.”

James shook his head. “You and your books. One of these days, Loops—”

“Loops!” The room went dead silent. Even the crackling logs in the fireplace seemed to quiet down as they all turned to look at Harry. “Loops!” he shrieked again, making grabby hands for Remus’ face. “Loops, Loops, Loops.”

“Did he just…?” James sounded like he was about to faint. “Remus, did he just say your name?”

Remus opened and closed his mouth a couple times, but no sound came out. Lily set her mug on the end table with a soft thud. “He’s never talked before. Are we sure that’s what he said?”

“It sounded like it to me.” Sirius leaned closer. “Hey, Harry, can you say ‘Loops’?”

“Loops!” Clear as day.

“Holy shit,” Remus whispered. James didn’t even correct him on his language. “He knows my name.”

“But—but aren’t babies supposed to know their parents first?” Lily twisted the end of her braid. “Did we screw up our kid?”

James sighed heavily. “Our baby likes Remus more than he likes us. Of course he does. Jesus.”

“I’m his godfather,” Sirius protested, poking Harry’s belly gently. “Hey. Baby. I’m your godfather.”

“Loops!”

Remus gave him a sly smile. “Looks like someone got dethroned.”

“You can’t dethrone a godfather!” he sputtered. “Pots, he can’t do that, can he?”

“I think he just did,” James said, resigned. “Doesn’t matter that I’m his actual father. Lils, is there more cocoa in the kitchen?”

She groaned as she stood. “I grew that baby for nine months and then pushed him out of my womb after eleven hours of labor, and he knows how to say ‘Loops’ before my name. I’m getting whiskey to go along with it.”

“Traitor.” Sirius frowned down at Harry as Lily and James left the room, but the baby just smiled at him and kicked his little feet. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“He really is,” Remus said, cuddling into his side.

“As much as I’d like it if he knew my name, it’s pretty awesome that he knows yours.”

Remus laughed. “I’m pretty sure he just knows the word, not what it means.”

“Really?” Sirius raised one eyebrow and took the baby back, turning him so they were face to face. “Okay, Harry, where’s Loops? Do you know where Loops is?”

Harry wriggled around and reached out for Remus, who lit up with joy. Sirius’ heart swelled about eight sizes. “Good job, buddy!” Remus took his hands and shook them around. “Yay!”

“You’re adorable.”

“Me or the kid?”

“Both.” Sirius kissed his forehead. “You’d be a great dad.”

“So would you.” Remus leaned up for a proper kiss that was only slightly ruined by Harry smacking him on the cheek. “Ouch. Am I not allowed to kiss your godfather anymore?”

“Shit.”

They gasped at the same time. “Oh, no.” Remus eyes went wide with horror. “Oh, Lily’s going to kill me.”

“We can’t tell them,” Sirius said instantly, checking the hallway in case the other two were lurking.

“Sirius, she is going to kill me.”

“Not if she thinks it was James. Or herself.”

“We’re threatening their marriage because I accidentally taught their baby to swear?”

“Perhaps.”                                                                                            

“I love you so much.” Remus turned back to Harry and his face became solemn. “You are not allowed to say that word until we leave, young man.”

“Loops!”

“Good job.”

Sirius settled the baby into Remus’ lap and stood, craning his neck to see into the kitchen. “Hey, guys, I think we’re going to head out soon. Hattie’s had a tummy ache since this morning and I’m a little worried about her.”

Lily frowned as she took a sip of whiskey-cocoa. “Aw, I’m sorry. Give her lots of kisses from us, okay?”

“Drive safe!” James called from out of sight. “Thanks again for stealing our child’s first word.”

“You can blame my fiancé for that one.” He gave Remus a thumbs-up as he set the baby in his playpen. They had never put on their winter clothes faster; Sirius was pretty sure his shoes were on the wrong feet, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Bye, love you!”

“Love you t—” The door cut off the last of James’ words as they all but sprinted down the walkway, skidding on the icy sidewalk and tumbling into the car. There was a moment of silence, and then they both burst out laughing.

“Oh, my God, I taught Harry how to swear,” Remus wheezed, leaning his head back against the headrest. “And then we just ditched.”

“We’re the worst godparents ever.” Sirius thumped his forehead against the steering wheel and turned the key in the ignition. “They will never forgive us if they find out.”

“Definitely not.”

They barely reached the end of the block before Remus’ phone rang. He declined the call immediately, stuffing it into his coat pocket. Not even two seconds later, Sirius’ ringtone for James blared in the silence of the car. Slowly and deliberately, he turned it on silent and shoved it in the console. Later. They would deal with this later.