#just so I don’t needlessly worry friends and family

[saminthea]

Is it appendicitis or just fibromyalgia and a stomach bug? Guess we'll see in the morning!

[the-faceless-bride]

Family Arguments (pt.1)

Summary: Family life with your husband was mostly a dream, but of course as all other families you have your downs… (Bakugou.k x reader)

This story is a bit silly but has some angst with comfort

Katsuki has mellowed out in his later years, now in his 30’s and no longer the needlessly mean and cruel teen he used to be; sure he still had his vulgar humor and still had a bit of an attitude when he talked but he wasn’t needlessly angry anymore, no longer screamed at the top of his lungs and scrunched his pretty face into sour expressions. However, Arguments with him were never pretty, no matter how much he’s calmed… especially when it comes to your children…

Kazumi Bakugou - the youngest twin

Kazumi had always been a leader, it’s what her father taught her to be. She never cracked to peer pressure, never backed down from a fight, and never let anyone talk down to her or about her.

However, that was what got her and her brother in trouble more often than not.

The girl wasn’t cruel, just a bit mean. One of Kazumis friends (well not friend anymore) had tried to convince her to drink, she’d snuck one of her mother’s wine bottles and was showing it off to her friends. Kazumi of course didn’t want to participate in said drinking and said quick goodbyes before turning her heels and going home.

However, she stopped in her tracks when the girl called her a ‘baby’ and baby? BABY? her?! Kazumi Bakugou?? She wasn’t a baby!

And your daughter had her father’s childhood temper, so she stomped her way back to the girl and demanded she take it back, and the girl did not… so Kazumi warned her once more to take it back, “jeez! Had I known you were such a Rat and were gonna tell your daddy and mommy on me I wouldn’t have offered you any in the first place!” The girl laughed.

And now you and Katsuki were in the car, going home after a parent & teacher meeting… about why your daughter punched another girl in the face…

And Katsuki was pissed… he gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles had turned white, his lips were pulled in a tight pout as he drove silently.

“Dad I-“ “We will talk about this when we get home, I don’t wanna hear you right now.”

And they did, they argued.. Katsuki yelling at her at the importance of self control and that what she did was uncalled for. Kazumi only argued back that if the girl didn’t want to get hit she would’ve apologized, and that only made him more Upset. She was just like him. Getting into fights for no reason other than her pride.

And that worried him, his mother was the same way and so was he; but he didn’t want his daughter to be like him or his mother.

Yelling all the time. Being angry all the time. Letting your pride get the better of you… he’d lost many friends that way, hell even his relationship with his mother was almost destroyed because of it.

Sadly it was an argument neither of them were willing to lose…

They both agreed to put an end to the fighting for now, and they would continue the argument in the morning.

You ended up having to listen to your husband rant for another hour or so about how she is just like him when he was her age. In middle school and blah blah blah, just talking in circles really. You eventually grew tired of his ranting and pressed a hard kiss to his lips and offered him a massage in bed for his troubles… that was enough to shut him up.

Koshin Bakugou - the Eldest twin

Koshin like his sister was raised to be strong and a leader. To never back down and to always use his best judgment when making tough calls.

… and today he had to make a tough call.

Him, his sister, his friends Yama and Rai were caught in the middle of some Villans. This was the risk of being children of heroes; villans would try to attack and kidnap you. Normally when things like this happened they were taught to find a way to run and a safe place to hide.

But Koshin Bakugou didn’t want to hide… and from the looks of the villans they were weak scums compared to the villans their parents fought… the four of them could totally take ‘em…

And he was right, they could take them… but not without a few scuffs… in the end luckily none of them had strong quirks, just inconvenient ones… until Rai ended up with a split lip and nose, and Yama a slight concussion. But the worst was his little sister, who ended up with two broken limbs and cracked ribs…

It had come out of nowhere! It wasn’t his fault!… was it?

And with in moments of entering the hospital, their parents showed up. Uncle Kami rushed to Rai’s side and Uncle kiri rushed to Yama and lastly his father…

Katsuki just walked past him…

Right to his sister’s room where she had been out cold as the doctors inspected the damages done.

The drive home was silent and Koshin was to afraid to say anything, and when you all walked through the door it finally bubbled over,

“What he hell were you thinking…”

Katsuki didn’t yell… it was a low quiet grumble… a calm before the storm…

“I- I knew I could do it. I could pull it off and we-“

“They all look up to you, you know…”

“I know dad-“ “No. No, you don’t know.”

“You say run, they run. You say swim, they dive in. You say light a fire, those three will show up with oil. You are a leader Koshin… you don’t get to be selfish…”

“But dad I wasn’t! I-“

“Yes! Yes you were, just because you thought you were strong! Just because you thought you could handle it! And you were wrong!…”

Koshin just stared at his dad, his angry red eyes staring down at him,

“For a moment, did you stop and think what could’ve happened to you, to them! TO YOUR SISTER!”

“I- I-“

“YOUR SISTER COULD’VE DIED! SHE COULD STILL DIE! DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?!! ALL BECAUSE YOU WANTED TO PRETEND TO BE STRONG.”

“I- no, dad- I- I just- I-“ Koshin began to hiccup, stuttering and stumbling over his words as he tried not to cry, “…’m sorry dad..” his voice cracked, as he hunched over and began to sob…

And that’s when Katsukis anger came to a screeching halt, seeing his son breaking down was like getting a bucket of ice water thrown on him. You’d begun to softly sniffle as well by this point. And katsuki knew he just couldn’t stay this angry… it didn’t feel good.

So he reached down and pulled his son close, letting the young boy cry into him. Mumbles of “I’m sorry, I’m sorry dad, I’m sorry…” Katsuki didn’t speak, just held onto his son tighter.

Later that night, just before you and Katsuki were about to fall asleep; you heard knocking at your bedroom door before it pushed open,

“Can… can I stay with you?..” Koshin ask his voice barely above a whisper, standing in your doorway. His eyes red and puffy, both you and your husband didn’t say a word and just moved a bit to the side to create room for him in the middle.

Koshin wiggled his way under the covers, pulling them past his chin to his nose,

“Koshin…”

“Yeah dad?”

“I’m proud of you…”

“…”

“You did what you felt was right, just like I taught you… and for that I’m proud of you…. But please… please, never scare me like that ever again…”

“Ok..”

“I love you,”

“I love you too dad,”

And for the first time in a long time, Koshin slept in your bed…with you and his dad.

Me while writing this ^^

ANYWAY! I hope you enjoy this!!! I was gonna have more character BUT from the looks of it, it would’ve been a LONG ASS thing, so for now it’s just Katsuki!! If you wanna see the next characters I planned please show this some love to keep me motivated!

[sp0o0kylights]

Someone on Twitter proposed Steve and Gareth as cousins whose family had a major falling out, and then someone else brought it up recently and long story short no idea who to credit the idea too bc you can’t search for SHIT on Twitter but it's theirs not mine. 

Anyway I wrote a lil thing as a warmup 

PART TWO

"Why don't you come sit with Hellfire?" Gareth asked, angrily leaned against the bathroom wall while Steve fixed his hair.

He'd tried not to cling since he entered high school. Tried to keep things on the downlow, least any gossipy mouths started running. 

It was so stupidly, needlessly, hard. 

 His cousin was only two years ahead of him but they'd spent the last year in different schools because of it. 

 That year, and the lack of Steve's presence in it, had grated. Now that he finally had Steve back, Gareth was loathe to play by the rules. 

"Sit with you and Eddie, "the freak" Munson? I'll pass." Steve said, but there was no bite in it. 

That, Gareth knew, was because Steve was  using Eddie as an excuse. 

"You'd like Eddie if you spent five minutes with him, King Steve." Gareth fired back on automatic. His fingers dug into his arms, as he resisted the urge to pace around the bathroom floor. 

Unspoken was all the shit that had taken place.

Steve and Nancy's breakup. The rumor mill in overdrive, first about how Jonathan Byers had taken creep shot photos of them, then about how he'd taken his shot with Nancy herself. 

The supposed cheating, the public fights, the crazy background of Jonathan's little brother being missing. 

Billy Hargrove beating Steve to a pulp. 

Now friendless, Steve had thoroughly fallen from his place at the tippy top of the social hierarchy and between his utter lack of friends and his shit tier parents, Gareth was concerned. 

"You do not want me to sit with you, Gary. I'd tell all your little friends that you're apart of the royal family." Steve turned, making an exaggerated face. "How's Munson feel about cozying up to a Prince?" 

"I'd technically be an Earl, Steve, not a prince." Gareth grumbled. 

He got an eye roll in response. "Somehow I don't think he'll care." 

"I do though." Gareth blurted out, absolutely thoughtless. 

Steve blinked at him. 

"What?" He said. 

In for a penny right?

 "I care." Gareth said, looking down and scuffing a shoe, making it squeak against the grimy tiles. "About you. You dick." 

"Wow Gary you almost sounded loving there."

For once, he ignored the jab. "I'm worried about you, man." He said it quietly, the painful truth pulled out of him almost by force. 

He knew better than anyone how few people Steve had. Knew how his dad was likely taking all the crap Steve had been involved in lately. 

Richard Harrington hadn't been the wedge that had separated his and Steve's mother, but the man hadn't done them any favors, either. 

His intolerance towards the working and lower classes, his demand for perfection, the way he looked down his nose not just on Gareth's parents but on his own wife and son…

Gareth's mom didn't tolerate it. 

Likewise, Stella Harrington didn't tolerate her sister ruining her shot at being a rich trophy wife. 

Both their sets of parents were dramatic and neither of them weren't anywhere near the concept of "good" but at least Gareth's weren't neglectful and abusive. 

Shitty absolutely, but he never worried about getting thrown out, or that his mom wouldn't acknowledge his birthday because he'd "complimented her outfit the wrong way." 

(”It's fine dude she just thought I called her ugly. It was a miscommunication. Dad said it's a good lesson about how women work."

"Casual reminder that your dad's an asshole and also how is telling your mom that she looked lovely in the sunlight telling her she's ugly?”

“It implied she wasn't lovely the rest of the time or some shit, I dunno man.”) 

The BMW was a shitty prize when compared what Steve had dealt with to receive it. 

"I'm okay." Steve said seriously. "It's almost the end of the year anyways. I can tough out having some extra alone time." 

"If you're sure…"

"Yeah man, I'm sure. Thanks though."

Then Steve pulled him into a hug and fuck their parents, who demanded they continued some stupid grudge. Gareth clung to him just as hard as he had at ten. Unsure if he'd ever be allowed to see Steve again.

[whatyadrawin]

The Fruit After The Flesh 18+ -CHAPTER 2-

Masterlist

Approximately 2,663 words

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt(HeadCanon) x AFAB reader

This chapters Warnings: Moderately strong language

A/n: This is the chapter giving more context and backstory to the Hewitts and the rude farmhand. Things pick up from here and will continue to keep on that exciting trajectory but remind yourself that I am the lord of the slow burn lol, I like building up to the fleshy bits. The artwork is what's keeping these chapters from coming out so quickly, I didn't want to go full flat color this time but goddamn my ADHD symptoms are making shit a lot harder to focus on so please have patience, I assure you all it is worth it. Please enjoy and keep an eye on the masterlist linked above for updates.

tag list: @fan-goddess

Chapter 2

The next day came with less heat than the first, the sun was frequently blocked out by thick white clouds that rolled against its light causing brief shadows to lay on the land. You started unpacking more and more things from the container you shipped to the house before you moved, making sure that everything that you needed was properly put away. Eventually it was time to head over to Luda Mae’s house and you wanted to make sure to look presentable for tea time. Thoughts of what her family was like raced through your head, you especially wanted to know who the mysterious masked man was. You slipped on a nice pink sundress that you made yourself, you covered your shoulders with a white cropped cardigan and some white sandals that were comfortable to walk in.

You decide to visit the farmhand again in an attempt to make friends so he wouldn’t be so hostile, you grab your things and head down before you make your way to Luda Mae’s home. You spot him tending to a peach tree and you walk over.

“Hey there, I don’t mean to bug you when you’re busy but I just wanted to see if you would take a break and chat for a bit?” you tried to use your friendliest smile.

“Ya can’t see I’m busy girl? Why don’t you go screw off with your riches and leave the farm to the only person caring for it all these years!” his words were so needlessly callous, but you continue,

“I know you’re busy but why don’t you tell me what I can do to help? It doesn’t have to all land on your shoulders anymore”

 He laughs to himself and says “Why? So, ya can just fire me when ya get the hang o’ things? Women can’t do this kinda labor, why dontcha just sit there and look pretty”

The sexism was shocking but you didn’t want to let that garbage stop you “I understand you are upset from the change but I assure you I just want to be friendly and helpful”

He turns to you with a smug look “What kinda friendly we talkin’ ‘bout here?”

You get creeped out as he stops his work and looks at you in a more predatory way, but you persist,

“I just mean you don’t have to worry about doing all the work by yourself, I can help you, and by friendly... I just want to have a civil professional relationship with you, nothing more”

“Thinkin’ ya deserve some kinda good treatment huh? How ‘bout me? Don’t I deserve compensation for the work I did all these years? I ain’t talkin’ bout wages neither”

You wonder what he means by that, so you try offering solutions “What do you need? Maybe I can get you a better living situation or more tools to make the work easier?”

He didn’t like anything you had to say, “Ya think it’s just that simple? I like where I live, I like being left ALONE!”

You feel a knot forming in your throat, being treated like this was so hurtful “Ok, well, I’ll leave you to it then. Have a good rest of the day”

He made you feel like shit, all the memories of people bullying you and your old friend were coming back and you just wanted to get away. Your heart was racing with anger and the familiar feeling of an old depression started to creep back in.

You start making your way towards Luda Mae’s home and hope that the walk calms your nerves and lifts your spirits enough to enjoy the rest of your day. The sun was peeking out from behind the thick clouds and brightened the dry road before you, tiny little white flowers sparsely lined the sides of the road and made you smile. You closed your eyes and made your mind blank, only listening to the gentle wisps of the wind rustling the tall wheatgrass, and the crunch of dry dirt with every step you took, some birds could be heard in the distance chirping cheerfully. You felt like you were in a different universe where time stood still and it was just you and the earth around you.

Shortly, you arrive at Luda Mae’s property, she had a wire fence blocking the four grazing cows in and there were a lot of cars sitting in a lot near the main house, it seemed odd but you just assumed maybe one of them was a mechanic. You walk up toward the barn and hope to see that mysterious masked man but the barn is empty minus some clucking chickens strutting around. You make your way up to the door and knock, an older man answers it, he looks you up and down and smiles,

“Well now, I didn’t know it was my birthday” he says. You can hear Luda Mae yell at him to shut up and let you in. He drops the smile and waves you in, making you walk closely to get past him. Luda Mae meets you as you walk in and she introduces you,

“Sorry ‘bout him sweetheart, this is my brother Charlie. Come on in dear, I can’t wait to talk with you, Loretta brought some real good tea for us to enjoy” She gestures for you to follow her and you speak to Charlie as you pass through,

“Nice to meet you Charlie, I’m Y/N*”

He smiles as he looks at you saying “Mhmm, I’ll remember that” you feel a shiver of discomfort after he says that.

You follow Luda Mae through the house which has very old furnishings, its large with high ceilings that are dotted with large fans to circulate the air; The décor was definitely very dated but kept clean, the furnishings may have once displayed wealth in a past long gone. In a large living room, you see a man reading a newspaper, Luda Mae stops at the doorway,

“Hey Monty, turn ‘round a sec”

The man was older, he turns around peering through his large thick glasses “Yeah?”

“I’d like you to meet the young woman who took over Tilly’s orchard!”

He sets down his paper and tried to turn to face you better “Oh! I didn’t know Tilly had children?”

Luda Mae replies “No, this is Y/N, she is a distant relative of hers”

You make a shy response “It’s nice to meet you sir”

He smiles “Well she’s real polite ain’t she? Nice to meet you too kiddo, I’m uncle Monty”

Luda Mae guides you over to the back porch which has Loretta already seated at the table. Luda Mae waves to her and says,

“Loretta, this is Tilly’s family, the one I told you ‘bout”

Loretta was a big woman, her cheeks were rosy and full, her dyed black hair was perfectly styled up into pin curls remniscent of another time, she smiled and said “Well, now ain’t she just a pretty little thing!”

Luda Mae gave you a smile and sits you down in the chair next to Loretta, you set down your basket and go to shake her hand saying “It’s really nice to meet you Loretta, my name in Y/N”

Loretta smiles and Luda Mae asks what you have in the basket you brought. You lift the basket onto the table and show them the fruits you picked for them today. Luda Mae claps in approval saying,

“That is so kind of you to bring some fruit over, I ain’t had a good peach since Tilly passed.”

You still weren’t quite sure about the way Tilly had died, you did not get much information out of the Lawyer and the files said there was no reason for an autopsy since she was so old. You ask Luda Mae and Loretta about it

“I don’t want to open old wounds or anything but, do either of you know how she died? I never got a proper answer”

They both looked at each other and Loretta answered “Well now Tilly was very well liked by everyone who knew her, she lived here a while you know. While yes, she was old, she was still in good shape and the sheriff’s department in the next town over didn’t give us any details, just said it was from old age and left it at that”

Luda Mae chimes in “I am suspicious that Dover did it”

“Luda Mae!” Loretta shouted in shock.

Luda Mae crosses her arms and continues “That farmhand has been a cruel and unappreciative man for as long as I remember, I tried to tell her to get rid of him what with all his talk about taking the orchard someday, but she was too kind-hearted and wasn’t able to keep up with the demands of caring for the trees. She was always looking for the good in people, even the evil ones. Bless that woman.”

Loretta nodded in agreement that Tilly was kind, she looked at you and said,

“You know, Fuller was doing well in the past, there was big business in cattle and meat packing. Everyone was makin’ good money ‘til the ranchers died and their property managers sold off the cattle to northern companies, that killed this towns economy. People were leaving in droves and so was the money.”

Luda Mae looked out into the field and added “It got to the point where we all had to resort to terrible things just to survive, but there was no way I’d let my family starve.”

Loretta gave Luda Mae a stern look, her eyes wide, she cut in “That is until Tilly decided to plant a bunch of fruit trees from the seeds of the fruit she bought from the store. The Texas sun made those little sprouts explode into full size trees, and she had us all fed by the fruits they made, we didn’t have to just survive no more, we were able to live normally again. It was all thanks to her”

You smile at the fact that someone from your family was regarded so highly, it gave you a warm feeling. Luda Mae pours you some tea and follows up with,

“Tilly made sure that we had animals to provide us with bounty, everyone shared what they had, even before the trees were makin’ enough to bring in money, in return we gave her the manure for the trees.”

Loretta looked antsy, she changed the subject “Well now, that’s enough of those depressing times.”

Luda Mae and Loretta started talking about the town and how things used to be, you sat listening to them for an hour until you noticed the mysterious masked man. He was heading toward the barn and you could see him tending to the cows inside, he was even bigger in person, his body looked like it was used to working hard, his muscles were large but had no hard edges as if his strength was supplemented with a rich diet full of American cooking. The man was brushing the cows, plumes of dust and dirt would fly out from each swish of the brush. To see him close was astonishing, you felt like you were seeing a new kind of human, he was so gentle with the animals and yet his appearance was very intimidating. You tried to look and see if you could get a glimpse of his face but his back was turned to you.

Luda Mae notices you looking and says “I see you’ve noticed my boy there”

You snap out of your trance and blush in embarrassment, she laughs and adds,

“He’s a real handsome one if I do say so myself, his name is Thomas. He’s real shy, but as sweet as they come. He’s a good boy, extremely helpful with managing the animals and taking care of the property.” She pauses and puts her hand to her chin “You know, he’s ‘round your age and its high time he meets someone nice, I’m gonna call him over.”

You felt butterflies for the first time in years, you quickly respond “That’s ok, he looks pretty busy, maybe he should be left alone”

Luda Mae smiles “Come now dear, he can come say hi, it ain’t no bother” She calls out to him “TOMMY! COME SAY HELLO TO THIS NICE YOUNG LADY!”

Tommy looks up quickly, he spots you on the porch and freezes.

Luda Mae yells after him again, “THOMAS BROWN HEWITT, YOU COME HERE RIGHT QUICK! DON’T BE RUDE NOW!”

He furiously shakes his head, turns and runs into the barn out of sight.

Luda Mae sighs “I’m sorry sweetheart, he really is a very nice boy, he’s just awfully shy, especially ‘round pretty girls, the poor dear”

You felt a wave of relief that someone else was maybe as anxious about meeting new people like you were, you reply “It’s ok, I’m sure I’ll meet him when he’s ready”

Luda Mae gently places her hand on yours “I’ll make sure of it, he needs to make some friends, it gets mighty lonely ‘round here. With someone as sweet as you I’m sure you two’d get along just fine”

Loretta takes a final sip of tea and gets up saying “Well, time for me ‘n Monty to head home, thanks for the conversation, Y/N, it was a real treat to meet you”

Luda Mae thanks Loretta for the tea and says goodbye, she then turns to you and says,

“Well, I know you probably want to get back to that orchard, please don’t let that prickly pear Dover get to you, Tilly kept him ‘round because he worked hard, no matter how awful he behaved, just let him be, pay him and ignore him the rest of the time. If you make friends with my Tommy, well, I’m sure Dover won’t be a terror”

You get up from your seat and say “Luda Mae, am I in danger with Dover?”

Luda Mae puts her hand on her heart and says “I’m so sorry for scaring you dear that was real thoughtless of me. I’m suspicious of Dover yes, but there’s no way he will hurt you, none of us will let him”

You thank her for the tea and leave from the back porch making your way towards the barn hoping to get a closer look at Tommy. When you reach the barn doors you see Tommy on the opposite side of the barn facing the open doors fiddling with some hay. The butterflies are welling up in your stomach making you feel sick with excitement, you stand there watching this enormous man whose back was extremely wide and his forearms were thick and scarred. You were struggling to take in as much of his image as you could before you could quietly sneak off, just as your eyes started travelling down south, he turned around and saw you.

“I-I’m sorry!” you squeaked as you bolted off down the driveway.

You felt so embarrassed at being caught watching him, you hoped he didn’t think poorly of you. You spent the walk home trying to calm the butterflies and stop blushing -I can’t believe how creepy of me that was, he is going to think I’m a freak!-. When you get home, you see that Dover was in his small house watching something on a small tube tv with a large bunny ear antenna. You feel sad that his accommodations are so meager and decide to speak with him again tomorrow to try just one more time to get in his good graces, you always believed that you could kill them with kindness, especially in the event that he really was a danger as Luda Mae said, then you would want to be in his good graces. You start to make dinner and think to yourself -I hope I am able to properly meet Tommy-.

Next chapter-

[macabremoons]

Happy WBW! It's after midnight and my baby won't go to sleep. Please tell me whether you've ever invented a language for a story. Would you like to?

It's totally Wednesday!

Not only have I tried to make conlangs for my story before, I have WRITTEN A FANFICTION OF DAYCYCLE THAT WAS JUST A THINLY VEILED INFODUMP ABOUT THE CONLANG THAT I WAS MAKING AS THE FANFIC WAS GOING ALONG

Under the cut ill put the whole thing for anyone wondering. No it is not proofread and yes it is benodora

Menodora is sitting in the corner of her favorite cafe when Benjamin sits across from her one day. She’s not really that surprised. Everyone in the group chat knows her schedule. 

“I need your help,” he says. 

Menodora closes her laptop. “Alright.”

“My mother’s family is coming over in a couple of months. They are going to stay for the rest of the year. They do not speak Common nor do they speak fae.” Benjamin scowls at that last sentence, and Menodora takes in his annoyance. “They’re going to speak to me as if I know what they are saying even though it’s been years and they know I don’t.”

“I’d love to help you,” Menodora says, placing one of her hands on his, “However, I do not speak the northern vampire dialect.”

“I know, but most of them do know the common southern dialect. You’re fluent in that one, right?”

They must be some sort of passonist for all vampire culture then. Makes sense as to why they haven’t learned common or fae. They probably did, at one point, but let the language fade over the years.

Bonnie only learned enough to understand Menodora when she can’t be bitched to speak in common. Most of those moments are Menodora asking for water or to be taken to bed. It’d be nice to have someone to really talk to, though in a couple of months Menodora is unsure how much Benjamin could learn.

“Sure,” Menodora says. “Though give me a couple of days to organize a teaching method. And to take my test.”

Benjamin gives Menodora a smile that she swears means thank you, but he doesn’t get out of his seat to leave. “Did you already have coffee?”

“Oh, no.” Menodora holds up an old napkin. “I bought a pastry to sit here. You don’t have to buy me coffee to teach you anything, you know. I don’t mind.”

Benjamin waves a hand. “Despite what it may look like, not everything is about debts. Consider it a thing between friends.”

Friends, right. Menodora opens her laptop. “Well then, order me a black coffee.”

They meet in the library five days later. Benjamin decides, for some reason, to dress up for this. Menodora isn’t complaining too much. He looks good in his sweater and dress shoes.

Right, focus. 

“I’m assuming you know the basics. Like ‘Hi, hello, how are you, my name is?’”

“Nope!” Benjamin leans back in his chair. “Not in the common southern dialect at least. I know it in the northern one. My mom knew this one nodical dialect, but she mostly just used it to talk shit about my family—the one coming over.”

Thankfully, Menodora planned for this. “Okay, so we will start with that. I’m not really going to be able to teach you everything. Every southern vampire dialect is needlessly complex, and there are words and rules even I don’t know about. I can teach you to speak formally and casually, and that should be enough to get you through some conversations.”

She scrolls on her laptop to where she has copy and pasted a grammar book and then takes out a binder full of papers for him to follow along on.

“Wow, you were not kidding about needing time to prepare,” Benjamin says. Suddenly he’s reading over her shoulder. “Now, tell me why there are so many rules again?”

“Because they could. I wish I was lying, but that’s it. If you—in theory—live forever, you—in theory—have all the time in the world to learn the irregular verbs and the genders of nouns being used in a certain context.”

Benjamin looks down at the papers with disgust. “If I didn’t need this, I would be reconsidering this very hard right now.”

Menodora waves her hand. “Don’t worry. I learned a lot of it easily, and I kept learning a bit after I got kicked out. You’ll do fine. Besides, you already know a vampiric dialect, even if it has a lot of influences.”

“Jorson is hello, so formal, and jlori is literally glory but also hi informally.”

“They both come from the word glory?” 

“Yeah. Back in the past vampires didn’t really interact that much, so wishing the other glory before they spoke was a good show of faith. Now it’s just a greeting.”

Benjamin takes out a loose piece of paper. “It’s similar in the northern dialect too. Though it’s spelled gloriee.”

“I swear I read a book about the

Anddd that's where it ends! im tagging my taglist so they can see this mess @lyra-brie, @squarebracket-trick, @immortaladrien, @serenanymph, @wrenofthewords, @kosmic-kore

[boozuru]

Ghostic - Exorcism 5

⇠  chapter select  ⇢

(NOT JP PROOFED)

Season: Autumn

<The next day, in front of the ES stand after the night’s commotion>

Tatsumi: Gulp, gulp… Phew… ♪

Now that it’s autumn, you really start craving for hot drinks.

Keito-san, would you also like a hot cocoa? The sweetness really takes away your exhaustion after practice.

Keito: No thanks. I appreciate the offer, but I’ll just have tea. Sweet drinks leave my throat dry if anything.

Yesterday was a real disaster, huh, Kazehaya.

Having a poltergeist scare happen was pretty run of the mill for a haunted house, but I never expected for mobile phones to be affected too.

I was on edge thinking there might have been an actual possession happening… It was thanks to your cool-headedness that we survived without unnecessary drama. It’s quite impressive. 

Since I’m the son of a temple family, I ought not to fall for believing in such things. I’ll reflect on this.

Tatsumi: Oh, don’t say that. I also believe in spirits, a divine one at that.

But, when I heard Eichi-san had experience things that matched the description of that, I thought it would be best to leave it to an expert.

Keito: Every man knows his own business best. I still wish that they had named it something more appropriate than a “ceremonial groundbreaking” though.

But this is my destiny as I was born to be Eichi’s childhood friend. I believe Eichi sees me as his eternal play mate.

Tatsumi: Fufu. I think that’s a much more respectable role than some subject expert.

Keito: I see. Maybe we were meant to connect like this when we met by chance after practice today. 

I’m sure that both of us are busy with ES Halloween preparations, but once we have some time a chat would be nice.

How about we go to COCHI next time?

Tatsumi: Sure. Thank you for the invitation, Keito-san.

Yuzuru: …Oh my. It is quite unusual for you two to have a lighthearted chat like this. Could this be about the “ceremonial groundbreaking”?

Keito: Well if it isn’t Fushimi. Are you feeling any better?

Yuzuru: I am, perfectly flawless in fact thanks to everyone.

I was actually also heading for practice. There is no need to worry about me.

Keito: That’s good. I bet that working in the student council takes a lot out of you, so don’t keep pushing yourself needlessly.

Yuzuru: You are absolutely correct. I must have caused a lot of trouble for you two, and I sincerely apologise for that.

I heard about it from Young Master yesterday. That you two did the “ceremonial groundbreaking” in my stead.

Keito: Yeah, even if it was Eichi’s troublesome idea.

If you’re feeling better now, it made our physical exertion worth it.

That reminds me, Anzu came to see Akatsuki’s practice yesterday. She’s looking forward to fine’s Halloween plans.

Yuzuru: Fufu. I’m happy to hear that.

I owe Anzu-san for last year’s help with Halloween, so I want to answer her expectations.

I actually happened to meet her right when I left the medical office.

I was not at my best at the time, so I might have caused her undue concern.

So I want to treat her well at this year’s Halloween event to make up for it-

If you two would like, please feel free to join as well.

Tatsumi: Alright. In that case, I’ll invite ALKALOID to come with me.

Hiiro-san has seemingly never experienced Halloween festivities before. I think he’ll enjoy the haunted house.

Yuzuru: Thank you very much. I would be happy to see you all there.

If Ayase-sama happens to be coming with you, I would actually like to speak to him.

Tatsumi: With… Mayoi-san?

Hum. I never knew that you two were acquainted… Are you classmates?

Yuzuru: No, I’m in a different class. It’s just that a few days ago he was gazing at the haunted house with a curious expression. I thought he might be interested in it.

Tatsumi: Ah, I see. I didn’t know.

Keito: Well, it’s to be expected that a Western-style building suddenly manifesting itself on ES premises would raise an eyebrow or two. Kanzaki and Kiryu were also puzzled and asking “what is that?”

Tatsumi: That makes sense. It’s quite a lot to take in, after all. Anyway, I’ll make sure to talk to Mayoi-san.

Yuzuru: Thank you very much.

You can avoid the long lines by coming in before the area is actually opened to the public. If you are willing to come early in the morning, of course.

Tatsumi: I see. We are also primarily entertainers, so I understand. I’ll make sure that we will be there nice and early.

I think that everyone in ALKALOID will be blown away by the effort put into the project. Let’s make this Halloween a blast ♪

[kcrabb88]

“I wasn’t trying to leave you out of the situation last night, you know. You’d been through a lot the past couple of days, and I know nightmares at this time of year bother you. I just wanted you to get rest while you could.” / “I had a nightmare anyway,” Anakin grumbles. “Or a vision. Saw Dex’s parking lot and heard blaster fire, though I didn’t see much else. So, my sleep wasn’t that great. I guess I felt something in our bond.” / “I’m sorry about that,” Obi-Wan replies. “Truly.” / “Do you not need me anymore?” Anakin sounds like a teenager as much as he looked like one earlier. “You have the council, and Vos, so you don’t want my help?” / I don't have a question, I'm just starved for more of your brain re this.

Hahahaha this is like, Anakin Skywalker has Improved So Much But is Still Insecure Hour. It's like, Anakin, honey! You're a Force Dyad with Obi-Wan! You're Kenobi and Skywalker! He's helping raise your kids and is part of yours and Padme's family! But, it's a bad time of year for Anakin, and weird things are happening, and I think, in some part of Anakin's heart, he's still getting used to the idea that it's not JUST him and Obi-Wan against the world anymore. He's a huge part of Obi-Wan's life: his brother, his kind of kid, his student, his best friend. But Obi-Wan has also let Anakin grow up! He's accepted that he's an adult and lets Anakin be there for him instead of hiding his fears and vulnerabilities for Anakin's sake. Except here, Obi-Wan is trying to protect Anakin a bit like he used to, and so Anakin pushes back like he used to. They're falling into older patterns.

There's a lot going on now, that (needlessly) makes Anakin worry that he isn't needed. Anakin's own daughter is Obi-Wan's padawan now. Obi-Wan is in a romantic partnership with Quinlan. Obi-Wan is basically third in charge of the whole Jedi Order behind Mace and Yoda. What if Obi-Wan doesn't need him? Spoiler, he always will, but! Anakin is Anakin, and when he's nervous, he regresses.

Also re: Quin in particular, I'll get into this soon, but the thing is, Quinlan knows one part of Obi-Wan that Anakin never did, because he knew Obi-Wan as a young teen/Padawan, and I think that makes Anakin feel left out. He'll get there! He's just going through it hahahaha.

Talk to me about my fics or my books!

[latibvles]

Officially intrigued by that Beauty and the Beast × DaisRon ~ just saying ;)

LISTEN there is something about Ron that is so, so Prince Adam-esque and Daisy is just … that is Belle. In all of her daydreaming, smart, understanding glory.

I like to think rather than Ron calling some old lady ugly this was … a curse placed on him during a battle. A warrior prince, needlessly cruel, and it’s that cruelty that gets this curse placed upon him. And Daisy — she’s none the wiser, she lives in this village with her brother and his wife they make do with what they have but she’s always yearned for more.

The rest of the Easy boys as the castle’s staff. Arthur in a Gaston-esque role (still an ex, she broke off their engagement and he’s been trying to win her back ever since). Daisy taking James’ place when Ron imprisons him because of the love of a sibling. And they argue, because they’re both stubborn and opinionated and Daisy may be kind but if she doesn’t like you, then she doesn’t like you.

But then it’s … oh, you lost your parents too? I didn’t realize. You like to read? I don’t read much, but here’s this library. Let me explain what this novel means. Lets sit together at the table instead of across. It’s snowing out — walk with me. Maybe this won’t be so bad. Maybe you’re not so bad. Maybe we could be friends. Maybe you could love me. Maybe I already do.

But he lets her go. Because she’s the only family her brother has, and keeping her here would make him a…. Well, a monster. And he isn’t — he doesn’t think so. She doesn’t look at him like he’s a monster. She never did.

And there’s a witch-hunt, of course, because it’s beauty and the beast and James is far too protective and freaked out for his own good and Carolyn is oh so worried for her. But the beast isn’t bad, and he has a name, it’s Ronald. He told me to call him Ron.

[mayanoelle]

Graham’s remarks had Maya laughing softly to herself. He’d always had that bright enthusiasm that never failed to bring a smile to her face. Their grandmothers had been close friends for years, having frequent get-togethers with grandkids in tow. “Well, I’m not going to argue with that,” she replied, her tone teasing. “But then they tend to ask for a lot of favors don’t they?”

A dinner party with their families sounded so nice, she couldn’t help but smile at the wave of nostalgia that came over her at the thought. “You baking dessert, huhI Now, those are some awfully big shoes to fill,” Maya giggled teasingly before giving Graham a nod. “It sounds like a plan, though. I warn you though, I won’t settle for anything less than a knock-out dessert!”

His talk of casino chip cookies brought a small laugh out of her. With how competitive both of their grandmothers were, it was an easy image to picture. “Okay, I’ll make brownies, but I wouldn’t put it past them to find a way to turn those into some sort of bargaining chip, too.” When Graham mentioned his childhood fascination with forms, she grinned playfully at him. “So, that’s why you’re so good at keeping things running so smoothly.” His last question, however, caught her a bit off guard. Maya’s expression faltered, just for a second, before she masked it with her usual easy going smile. “The cafe’s fine,” she said, a little too quickly, forcing her voice to sound fine. “You know how it is–lawyers and their endless need for documents.” 

Maya wasn’t trying to be sneaky, but she didn’t want him to needlessly worry. She still wasn’t exactly sure why her lawyer needed the documents in the first place, so she didn’t want to sound the alarm just yet.

"see, in my mind, family friends should get the highest quality customer service of anybody," he remarked. "that's how they stay family friends."

the mention of a jackson-oswald dinner party instantly brightened him up. it was moments like this that he remembered why he'd come back to blue harbor. home was the people in town and the kindness they shared with each other. "we can switch roles for the night—you cook, i'll bake dessert. how do you feel about a pineapple upside down cake? i've been working to one-up my grandmother's recipe."

he was sure that if either grandmother had something small and round, like a cookie, it could add to the problem. "brownies might be the better option. you give them anything that looks too much like a coin, and they start using them like casino chips and I-O-Us."

in graham's role, he had to go through more paperwork than most adults. sisyphus had nothing on the overworked mayor's aid. "growing up, i would make fake forms to fill out and sign because i liked writing in boxes. i wish that kid would come back out, like jekyll and hyde style, to complete my daily tasks for me," his life would be a whole lot more under control if that were the case. "is everything alright with the cafe?" graham asked, hoping to break the silence of the room. "i don't mean to pry, i'm just curious with the lawyers needing the land records."

[atozphantomsquadron]

Chapter Five: Dragonfight

July 12th

            It’s been too long since I’ve done this. Am I ready?

            The last three days have been spent preparing for our cross-country journey. Specifically, Uncle Cyrus and Gabe have been working on a transportation basket that I can wear as the dragon to carry everyone on my back. We all agreed to this plan; it is going to be far too difficult for me to fly if I have to worry about carrying everyone bareback, or holding them in my arms, and trying not to drop anyone.

            This morning, I’m back at the workshop, where I’ve been invited by Uncle Cyrus to inspect the final product. It’s impressive, to say the least. Somehow, Uncle Cyrus and Gabe were able to find the chassis from an old minivan, which they sliced the car frame off of and welded to a strap rig that looks almost like a gigantic backpack.

            Which I suppose is what it is, after all.

            “Well? What do you think?” Uncle Cyrus seems way too enthusiastic.

            “It’s perfect. I think that’ll do nicely.” I bend over and hug the short wizard. “Thank you.”

            “Don’t thank us yet,” Gabe interjects. “We still need to get this thing on you and make sure it’s not going to interfere with your wings.”

            Too true. If I can’t flap my wings, this whole enterprise will be pointless. My thoughts are interrupted, however, as the rest of the traveling party comes around.

            “We’re flying in that?” Michi groans. “Dad, couldn’t you have gotten something a bit more stylish, like a Jeep or something?”

            “We work with what we’ve got,” Uncle Cyrus responds. He places a small item in my hand. “Here, you’ll need this.”

            I open my hand up. What he’s placed in it looks like a hearing aid. “What is it?”

            “It’s a communication device, so that the people in the van can talk to you en-route. You won’t need a mike, but you’ll need the speaker. Trust me on this.”

            I suppose he knows what he’s doing, right? I plug the device into my ear. “Did you have this when you guys were flying with Mom?”

            Uncle Cyrus shakes his head. “No, but we also didn’t have an enclosed flying space, either. You do, so as such we need to compensate.”

            Dad places his hand on the van body. “You’re sure about this, Cyrus?”

            “Positive. Would I put you in danger needlessly?”

            We all smirk at both Uncle Cyrus and Gabe, but I’m the only one who says anything. “Do you really want an answer to that?”

            Dad and Michi chuckle. William comes up just then. “So how is this going to work?”

            Gabe opens the sliding door of the van body. “First thing’s first, everybody in that’s going. You guys will have to get in first whenever this is used.”

            The others exchange questioning glances, but obediently climb into the van. Dad and Michi take the front seats, while William sits in the back. Gabe slams the door shut behind them.

            “All right,” Uncle Cyrus says as he turns toward me, “your turn.”

            I nod, removing the Sword from my waist and moving the strap to wrap it around my left forearm. I close my eyes and focus on my body.

            It starts with my wings. They unfurl from their hiding place within my back. I almost fear that I won’t be able to do it, after spending so long in the Inferno, but then horrible thoughts come to mind. Dead supernaturals lying at my feet. Friends, lovers, family, all gone. Jennifer Regent, grinning at me, threatening me, claiming responsibility while torturing me …

            My body begins to grow. Subtly at first, but more strenuous after a couple seconds, my muscles expand, my skeleton deforms, my neck and face lengthen. I’m breathing heavier and deeper as my lungs expand their size within my quickly-growing chest. My wings enlarge to the scale that my body does. From my back a tail begins to sprout and scurry away from the rest of my body, growing longer as I grow ever larger.

            The transformation is finally complete. My voice turns into a constant growl, as I turn down and inspect my dragon body. Just like I remember it, gigantic and scaly. Initially I was afraid of this, afraid of giving up all the control I had been learning with the Guardswoman, but eventually I came to embrace this ability.

            If I can use it to defy its creator, all the better.

            I look back at where Uncle Cyrus and Gabe now look so tiny against the ground. A snort comes from my dragon snout, accompanied by a brief blast of fire, another part of my physical abilities sorely in need of exercise. I nod at the others.

            “Excellent. Here goes.” Uncle Cyrus makes motions toward the van, which is soon engulfed in a blue glow. It rises up off of the ground, the straps hanging slack. Sensing I’ll need them out of the way, I extend my left arm and wing, around which the left strap of the van-pack loops. Once the strap is secured around my shoulder, out of the way of the wing’s motion, the right strap separates into two pieces and wraps around the right shoulder, finally snapping and becoming an unbroken loop once more.

            I move the straps slightly.

“Feels good.”

          “Excellent. Cole, can you hear me?”

            Dad’s voice comes loud and clear in my ear. “I hear you. We’re all ready back here. By the way, Alanna, we brought your pack with us, it’s in here.”

            I smile, the dragon’s maw turning the expression into something much more threatening than intended. I test my wings, and am satisfied that I’ll be able to fly while wearing the van-pack. I turn back to Uncle Cyrus and Gabe and give them a salute.

            “Godspeed, Alanna,” Gabe calls up to me. “Find your mother.”

            “We’re ready for you guys when you come home,” Uncle Cyrus calls up to me.

            I let out a dragon roar, a satisfying, cleansing cry. My wings flap gently, then harder, allowing me to lift up off of the ground. Accounting for the extra weight on my back, I need to flap a little harder than usual, but eventually I’m high above the Ranch grounds, and have a clear view of the city skyline of Edmonton, off to the north.

            Dad’s voice chirps in my ear. “Okay, Alanna, take a gentle path to the right. I’ll tell you when to stop turning.”

            I begin forward flight, stroking my wings like a swimmer strokes her arms in the pool. I’m picking up speed, bearing slightly to the right. When Dad tells me I’m on a good path, I stop my gentle bank and speed up. Adrenaline is giving me even more speed than usual.

            We’re coming for you, Mom.

July 13th

            The flight has been fairly smooth thus far. The extra weight hasn’t been much trouble, and I’ve been nearly able to get up to the speeds I reached while flying from Montreal to San Antonio. It’s also been nice to hear the conversations inside the van … Dad and Michi and William, all three have been taking spirited turns talking about topics of interest to them.

            It gets more intriguing when the subject gets more gossipy. Dad started it, though, with one little innocent question. “So Michika, tell me, do you have a boyfriend yet like Alanna?”

            A nervous chuckle came from Michi. “Maybe. I don’t know if I still will, though … he had to go home a while back.”

            I can’t help but smile … she’s talking about Fahaian. To tell the truth, I’ve missed his presence too, but they were starting to get serious before I left and it’s got to be killing her right now. I remember how eighteen days away from William felt like I’d had my heart carved out of me …

            William fills in Dad. “She was with Prince Fahaian, but he’s still in Jordan. He hasn’t come back yet.”

            “I can imagine. It’s a shame about King Fahai, and I’m sure his son’s going to do him proud. Why are you worried, though?”

            Michi sighs. “He left, and then this happened.” I can only guess she’s talking about her transformation. “What the hell kind of king is gonna want a queen that can disembowel him if he pisses her off?”

            Dad chuckles lightly. “You know, your mom had a similar dilemma.”

            “Really?”

            “Absolutely. By the time your dad met her, she was already a cat like you. Despite that, the feelings between them were too strong, despite the big disparity in their personalities. They fell in love. Your mom even saved your dad’s life more than once, including a time she brought him back from death.”

            “How did she do that?”

            Dad clears his throat. “You might want to ask her, it’s a personal thing and I’m not sure she’d want me telling you about it. Suffice to say, if she hadn’t been in a cat body, she wouldn’t have been able to do it.”

            My eyes scan the horizon as I listen to the conversations in the van-pack, looking for trouble. Unfortunately, I find it, far in the distance. I can’t make out exactly what it is yet, but it’s three airborne shapes, two small ones escorting a much larger one. I turn my head slightly back toward the pack. “Heads up, we’ve got company!”

            I hear rustling in the earpiece, then Dad’s voice pipes up. “I see them, bogeys about a mile off.” Seatbelts click into place. “Alanna, do you trust me?”

            What kind of question is that?

“Of course I do.”

            “All right, no matter how crazy it sounds, if I give you an instruction on a direction to fly, you do it. Got me?”

         “Sure, but how crazy are we talking?”

            “We’re talking dogfighting.”

            Oh God, he wants me to fight them! I almost protest, but then part of me remembers one vital thing about Dad: before he was the Guardsman, he was a fighter pilot.

            The shapes approach faster. The larger one seems unusual compared to the other two. The smaller shapes, clearly escorts, are also obviously jets, small one-person cockpit aircraft armed with defensive weapons like machine guns. The larger shape has a weird flight path … it’s bobbing up and down, almost like …

            As the realization hits, I’m forced to duck a long ribbon of liquid fire, blasting from the large shape. It’s another dragon!

            Ducking the attack forces me into a barrel roll. Dad’s voice in my ear is trying to calm me down. “It’s okay, Alanna, take it easy. Breathe, sweetheart.”

            My heart is racing, but I do my best to calm down.

“What do I do?”

            “Don’t worry right now about the escorts, they’re going to be easier to pick off. I’ve got Michika on that. Keep avoiding the big guy’s attacks, and when you get the chance give him some of your own.”

            I’m trusting him, but I feel like he’s crazy. I hear the van’s sliding door opening above me. My back muscles clench, awaiting the inevitable concussion attack that Michi loves to throw in fights.

            She surprises me, though. “ASTRAL BODY!” That’s one I haven’t heard her use before, and I realize why when I see its effect: a meteorite drops out from above us and slams into one of the escort planes, turning it into a twisted metal fireball dropping toward the ground.

            Remind me to thank her later for not blasting me with recoil.

            “Hard left, Alanna!” Dad’s voice breaks up my relief. I bank hard to my left, as another fire ribbon blasts underneath me, close enough that I can feel the heat scraping against my chest. I think he’s close enough now. The churning begins deep in my stomach, crawling up my throat and into my mouth. I open my maw and let fly with my own firecast, much larger than my opponent’s in terms of width and range. The other dragon does his own barrel roll to avoid my blast, but it’s not nearly as graceful and I’m able to clip a wing.

            The other dragon roars with animalistic fury and speeds up his wings, trying to charge me. As he approaches closer, I can see more detail about my opponent. He’s a blue dragon, with a slightly wider wingspan than my own, and dark black eyes. Burned into the middle of his back and into his left arm is the New Empire sigil, the eagle and skyscraper logo that I’ve learned to hate for all they’ve done to me. My investigation doesn’t last very long, though, as in mid-roll he opens up his mouth, planning to firecast again.

            “Grab him, Alanna!”

            Dad’s right. This dragon’s only strategy is to hit me with fire streams, which would be a sound strategy against an opponent that doesn’t have fire of their own, or free will. I brace my shoulders and dig my own talons into his rear flanks, tearing into his scaly flesh. He roars and chokes on the fire he was about to shoot at me, flapping his wings hard trying to get away from me.

            This draws the attention of the remaining escort jet, which makes a wide, circling turn and brings its guns to bear toward me. Bullets zing past, just barely missing the webs of my wings.

            “Michika, get that guy!” Dad’s voice sounds panicked.

            “On it, Uncle Cole!” Michi, on the other hand, sounds confident. “CONTRACTION!”

            The plane crumples up like it’s made of so much construction paper. A newly-formed titanium boulder, it drops like the rock it’s become out of the sky. Now all that’s left is the dragon. He’s managed to wriggle free of my grip, and now he’s literally bleeding from his butt. He opens his mouth again. I can see flames forming at the back of his throat.

            “Alanna, fire!”

            I don’t need Dad’s cry to know what to do. Fortunately enough, I’m quicker than my opponent with my own fire … I think I’ve been doing it longer. The churning becomes a torrent, and I open my mouth and blast a long column of fire.

            Right down the other dragon’s throat.

            The other dragon claws at his maw and the base of his neck, but the damage is already commencing. I circle and watch as holes begin opening in his hide, the result of being burned alive from the inside out. His wings stop flapping, and soon he’s plummeting to the earth below, a fiery streak against the pure blue of the sky. I linger for a few seconds, then resume my own flight.

            When I hear the van-pack’s sliding door close again, I finally speak.

“Everyone okay up there?”

            “We’re fine,” Dad crackles in my ear. “Let’s keep going. Just be aware, we might hit some more resistance, but hopefully nothing else like that.”

            I agree, but the question is already picking away at my mind. Where did that dragon come from? Are there more of them?

            This smells like Gerard all over. My mind wanders back to Chicago, to my encounter with Dr. Benjamin Gerard, the monster who turned Mom into a dragon so many years ago, and who unleashed this form I’m in now and goaded me into rampaging through the city. If he’s created one dragon, chances are he’s created more …

            My wings flap harder, faster, pushing me through the air at a blistering pace. I can’t let up now.

[statticscribbles]

Casework

Summary: Derek Morgan/ Reid! Ftm Reader; Reader deals with a tough case and Derek tries to help

”Spence; Y/N going to be okay on this one?”

“Yeah he’ll be good, my brother can handle it..”

“You know we all have cases like this..” Hotch nods and spences does as well both their expressions grim as they watch you almost nervously flicking through case files. They know you’re expecting pictures. 

Derek is a little more tense the more you’re reading the file and you keep sneaking glances at him which is maybe why he keeps looking worriedly at you. You’re breezing through most of it’ trying to skip the glaringing disturbing parts but unfortunately the murders are tame; there’s no real ycat and mouse game; no long con that anyone can see; just that the unsub is targeting exclusively female to male transgender. Whoever they are they seem to be on friendly terms as none of the disappearances seemed to be violent; but none of their friends or family seemed to know where they’d gone.

”Y/N, you figure out anything we can use?”

“Not yet; I’ll keep looking, we always have plan B.”

“Plan B?” Spencer doesn’t look up from his copy of the file but you can tell he’s frowning which means Derek is frowning.

“I go as bait.” You don’t even finish the full sentence before everyone practically screams no at you.

“Okay fine, usual plan A then..” You try to joke but you know you just sound concerned and Spencer sits a little closer to you, always wanting to be the protective older brother; especially since Derek has taken over talking to the local police since he doesn’t like the idea of them being needlessly cruel to you, or unaware that you’re transgender as well.

”We have a lead.” Derek looks a little too pleased and  you wonder how advanced the lead is. Normally when he gets this excited it means that the case is coming to a close.

“So what’s the lead?” Spencer reminds Derek to stay on topic and he laughs a little as Hotch comes in to officially brief everyone.

”Well at least that went well.” Spencer chuckles a little and you scowl, putting the bandaid on a little more forcefully when Derek joins in on the muffled laughter.

“You got hurt.”

“And it could have gone far far worse, but we figured out they were posing as a care nurse to do home visits to various transgender patients who were recovering from surgery; which is why some of the injuries were so percise; they were from the actual surgery.”

“We don’t need another run down I’m sure it’s all in the files anyways.” Hotch states and you all shuffle around the office as he reminds you to pack up and make sure to have everything on ready for when you’re getting on the plane as it’s going to leave in about three hours. It’s not often you have down time before the plane leaves.

”Y/N what are you doing?”

“Getting ready for work we have-” ‘Come back to bed; I put in for three days leave; plus the weekend.” ‘But-”

“No buts; or I’ll get Spencer to monolog at you why mental health breaks are important.”

“Why must you use my own brother against me…”

“Because you’re a workaholic who had to deal with a traumatizing case.. Come back to bed or I’ll make you.”

“It wasn’t that.. I mean I didn’t get physically hurt..” You pout a little sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I know Y/N but we all have those sorts of cases. Everyone’s had one; ones that hit a little too close to home and make everything go still for a while. The best thing for everyone is for you to take some time off. For you to heal, but also so everyone doesn’t have to worry, and can focus on helping more people.” Derek nods and you join him content to spend the whole day in bed. Just as you’re getting used to the idea Derek has to change it by insisting that you’re both going out for a much needed date night to your favorite restaurant.

You’re not actually upset about sitting across from Derek  and having dinner is actually calming, you’re looking forward to the next three days being able to spend it with him.

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[ladyartemesia]

The Luna

◐ PART VII of THE ALPHA ◐

◐ Series Masterlist ◐

◐ Part I ◐ Part II ◐ Part III ◐ Part IV ◐ Part V ◐ Part VI ◐

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Jimin x Omega Reader

Rating: Hard Mature 18+ (for this installment)

Warnings: this one is a little darker... implied violence, mentions of blood, ABO sexual dynamics including discussion of scenting, marking, mating, and claiming, sexual innuendo, discussion of violence relating to ritual combat, possessive behavior, injuries and discussion of injuries, discussions or ruts, (non-explicit) kidnapping and drugging, its not as bad as it sounds, but it is definitely a bit darker...

Word Count: 4200

Author’s Note: You have no idea what your support has meant to me. After getting the dreaded Covid it was awhile before I had the energy to work on this. Truly your asks and your messages and comments...they made me so happy. You made me believe that people wouldn’t forget about this story. I am so grateful you were able to wait. As always, my angels @ppersonna @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @underthejoon were the best betas and the best friends anyone could ask for. My thanks to ALL of you for helping me bring this story to life! I don’t know what I would do without your daily encouragement and your daily support. You guys are the heartbeat of this story. 

———◐——— 

Fifteen Years Ago...

———◐——— 

“It can’t be-”

“Run for the elders! Quickly! 

“Red smoke rises from the Luna’s hearth!”

The red smoke was invented by the first wolf known to mate a witch. Legend has it that their bond lent him some of her magic and with it he created a mystical powder that unleashed bloody plumes like knife slashes in the clouds. 

It was a distress call. 

A wolf in danger or in need could throw the powder (usually into their fireplace) and the red smoke would rise - drawing others to their aid. 

No fire was needed and the strange shimmering clouds it produced could even be seen on a moonless night. 

“What happened? Where is the Luna?”

The chief elder was still out of breath, having charged over from his chambers to find Isa in hysterics. 

“She’s gone! Something scared her! It triggered a half-shift!”

His eyes widened in fear and alarm. 

“She’s too young to half-shift. The energy it would take-”

Isa broke into sobs again. 

The girl was only five years old. She and her wolf were too volatile to merge safely. The wolf would be frightened - it would run. 

Eventually the child might regain control, but she would have no way of knowing where she was or how she got there… 

And she would be weak. The effects of the shift were too much for a pup that age. 

The chief elder felt true terror grip his heart. 

“Call for the alphas - immediately!”

Although they were technically one of the oldest bloodlines in the village, Park Clan had only five families to its name - all betas. 

Except for one. 

Park Jimin was the first alpha ever born to the Parks and as such he became the head of his family on the day of his birth - officially the youngest clan leader in history. 

When the call for alphas spread through the village, nine year-old Jimin was roused from his bed to serve on behalf of his people. 

Clan alphas were required to report, regardless of their age. 

“I don’t have to tell any of you what is at stake. Our pack has been entrusted with the Luna’s bloodline. Her safety is our sacred commission.”

The woods were no place for a child. If fluctuating temperatures and possible starvation weren’t bad enough, there were wild bears, packless ferals, rogue witches, snakes, and worst of all-

Unblessed wolves—animals without a human heart. They were by far the most pressing danger to the little girl. 

“Surely young Park can remain at home for this,” Jeon Jinseok pressed. The boy was barely older than his grandson, Jungkook, and he was reluctant to endanger another pup needlessly. 

Some quiet murmurs of assent could be heard around the elder’s chambers, however the chief elder himself shook his head sadly. 

“I understand your concern… but the law is the law. Every clan alpha is sworn to such a task. He took an oath after his first transformation-”

“He was seven-”

“An oath is still an oath.”

All eyes turned to the gentle voice in the corner. The Park alpha looked impossibly small and soft. 

But his gaze burned with determination. 

“It is my right and duty to seek the Luna alongside all of you.” His round little jaw clenched stubbornly. “I’m not afraid.”

The sound of bones and sinew shifting filled the air as one by one the clan alphas fell to their wolf forms and took off into the forest. 

Until only a small silver wolf remained. 

The chief elder sighed. 

The boy would not undergo the Change for another six years. The mental link between his wolf and human forms was not yet complete. It was difficult for information to pass from one to the other. 

“You are the wolf force of Park Jimin.”

After a moment the wolf nodded.

“You were called here because the Luna has gone missing and you must find her if you can. Search the woods until your wolf force can endure no longer and then return. If you find the child, bring her home as soon as possible.”

The young wolf nodded again and then disappeared into the night. 

It was cold. 

The last thing you remembered was a loud noise. It was too close - you panicked-

Then there was heat and pain and running and now this-

Darkness and barren trees looming over you as far as your frightened eyes could see. 

“...Hello?”

Your hands were bleeding. Tears began to slide softly down your cheek as your lips trembled. 

“H-Hello?”

Jimin had never been allowed into the forest alone. A myriad of new shapes and odd smells assaulted his senses as he ran. 

He had only seen you a handful of times. 

Bright silver eyes with a smile that could set even the coldest heart into bloom. 

Now you needed him.

And he was going to save you. 

It was not a question or a matter of chance in his mind. He was meant to find you. It was as if a thread from his chest was bound to a thread from yours and his wolf knew to follow it without question or thought for its significance. 

I’m coming, little Luna. Hold on. 

Your nose was not yet fully developed, but the stench creeping through the air toward you was unmistakable. 

Unblessed. 

A soulless wolf. 

The last time you encountered it was after a hunt. Your father killed one who attacked him and he brought it home for you to scent. 

So you could recognize the smell of danger. 

Gradually two shining eyes emerged from the darkness, yet unlike the wolves of your village, these were dark and fathomless-

Hungry. 

You couldn’t tell much about its age or coloring, it was too thin - too dirty, but the bared teeth and steady progress closer signaled its intent clearly. 

“Please,” you whispered, as it crouched back on its hind legs, preparing to strike. 

Tears blurred your vision as you heard it leap forward. 

But the strike never came. 

Another wolf tackled it to the ground before it could reach you. The two of them tangled viciously in the moonlight; a terrifying mass of snarling and claws. 

The smaller fighter was already bleeding, but he clamped down on his opponent’s throat in the first hit and hung on to it even as the animal snapped and scratched brutally at his skin. 

Jimin could feel his strength beginning to fail him. The pain was excruciating, but he had to endure. If he let go, he was lost- 

You were lost.

So he held. 

And at last the soulless wolf collapsed on top of him. 

For a moment, all was quiet. 

Jimin felt the wounds over his hide begin to tug at the edge of his consciousness. Accelerated healing could only do so much... He was hurt badly. 

Then two small hands began to push at the unblessed corpse. Small huffs and heaves poured from you as you worked to free him from beneath his defeated foe. 

“Don’t be afraid, Silver,” you grunted, “Momma says the healing works best if you can get warm.” 

With one final heave you disposed of the beast as best you could, then moved to wrap your body around your injured champion. 

“I can help,” you whispered, letting the tears fall freely. His soft whimpers were the only reply you received as you snuggled in closer, running your hands gently over the soft fur. 

The young wolf’s eyes were already beginning to lose focus. 

“Please goddess,” you begged into the night. “Please save him.”

Then the two of you drifted into a heavy sleep. 

Jimin opened his eyes again just as the dawn broke. 

He was still in wolf form, but the pain of his injuries had lessened considerably. 

Either that or he was becoming numb. 

His eyes dropped to the figure curled up next to him and his heart stirred. You were so pale… and he could feel your small body shivering violently against his chest.

She will not last much longer...

It took nearly everything he had to stand to his feet and nudge you awake. 

“Will you bring me back, Silver?” you asked weakly. 

Jimin nodded and the two of you stumbled forward into the forest, trusting the vague recollections of his wolf instincts to lead you home. 

Isa was beside herself with worry. Wolves came and went throughout the night-

But there was still no sign of you. 

And the odds of a child surviving the woods alone with no heat and no protection were slim at best. 

Her hands shook as she gathered feed for the horses from the storeroom near the back of the house. She willed herself to complete the task - any task - in an effort to busy her mind and perhaps achieve a moment of respite. 

Her hand closed around the back door handle and she started forward - only to nearly lose her balance over something lying on the porch. 

The bucket of feed dropped from her grasp, sending kernels of grain in all directions. 

Two bodies lay in a heap at her feet, clutching one another desperately. The Luna and her silver wolf were covered in matted blood and dirt. 

But they were alive. 

Isa began to scream, drawing out the other two occupants of the house; her husband Roojin and his younger sister, a beta healer named Ryn. 

“Oh my goddess,” Ryn gasped, “that’s the Park alpha! I heard some of the elders saying that he hadn’t checked in last night!”

“Get them inside. If we don’t act quickly we could lose them.”

Roojin tried to lift you away from the wolf, but the action was enough to rouse you and you immediately began to kick and scream frantically. 

“No! I won’t leave him!” you sobbed, wrapping your body even tighter around the injured pup. “Silver, wake up! Please wake up!”

“Baby you need to let him go! We have to treat him!”

But you were frantic, refusing - violently - to be separated from your rescuer. 

Ryn was eventually forced to grab a syringe from her field kit to sedate you. 

Isa carried your limp body to the fireplace and began to peel off your wet clothes while Ryn and Roojin dealt with Jimin’s injuries in the kitchen. Blood dripped over the tabletop and puddled ominously on the floor while they worked. 

“It looks like he was attacked.” Ryn’s eyes began to water. “What a brave little boy.”

“How the hell did he survive this?”

“I don’t know, but without a healing touch he’ll die.” She ripped her gloves off and rolled up her sleeves. “Stand back.”

Twenty minutes later Isa and Roojin caught the young healer as her legs gave out from under her. She had poured the majority of her energy into restoring the young Park alpha - perhaps more than was strictly safe-

But he would survive and that was all that mattered. 

“I must contact the elders,” Isa murmured as she helped Ryn to a seat near the hearth. “In all the chaos I forgot to tell them that we found her.”

Roojin sighed, letting his eyes drift back to the table. 

“That pup brought her back, but I wonder if they’ll even believe it. I wouldn’t - not if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

“No...” Ryn whispered from the chair. “You can’t tell them about the boy.”

“Why not? He’s the only reason she’s still alive. He deserves to be recognized.”

“You don’t understand,” she shook her head weakly. “His clan is nothing. They have no power - no other alphas. This will make him a target. The alpha pups will challenge him and the stronger clans will see him as a threat to their influence…”

She pulled herself upright and limped over to the table where the young wolf slept. 

“But he's just a child….and small for his age at that. He has no powerful clansmen to protect him from the ramifications of this.” 

Her hands clenched to fists. 

“When his human form returns, he won’t remember saving the Luna. We’ll take him to his mother’s home at nightfall - make it seem like he wandered back. He may garner some respect for surviving the woods, but then they’ll leave him alone… and he can go on living his life in peace.”

Ryn turned to face them both with a determined expression. 

“We owe him that.”

“Where is the silver wolf? Where have you taken him?”

As soon as the sedative wore off you reached for the boy once again, only to find that he was gone. 

“The silver wolf was hurt very badly, sweetheart. Your aunt carried him away to be treated.”

“I have to go with him! He needs me!”

“No, honey - you can’t-”

Isa pulled you into her arms and you collapsed into helpless sobs. The last twenty-four hours had finally caught up with you. 

You were too weak to fight back. 

“Luna… the silver wolf is in danger. Are you willing to keep him safe?”

You nodded fiercely, letting the flow of your tears soak through your mother’s sleeves. 

“Then you must never tell another soul that the silver wolf saved you. No one can know that he was with you in the forest.”

Your eyes narrowed in confusion. 

“But-”

“You will tell everyone that you found the way back alone. Do not mention the silver wolf.”

Isa lifted your chin till your eyes met hers. 

“Promise me, Luna.”

Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest as you thought of your champion. He had spared you from a gruesome fate and you did not even know his name. 

You wanted so desperately to thank him. 

Last night, you were so cold - so afraid - that you hadn’t said it...

Now you never could. 

So instead you would protect him - no matter what it cost. 

“I promise.”

———◐——— 

Today...

———◐———  

“I don’t like him.”

Jimin tilted his head slightly toward his best friend.

“Who?”

Taehyung took a long sip of water then moved his hand to cover his mouth. To an outside observer he would appear to be wiping excess liquid from his lips. 

“The senior envoy from the Iron Claw pack.” He shook his head. “Something about him is off. He’s ill at ease.”

All the major packs of the mountain nations dispatched representatives to greet and solidify their relations with the new Alpha. 

Any pack who failed to send a proper delegation risked a diplomatic incident. 

The first twenty-four hours held great significance when it came to the transfer of power. The official term for the tradition-packed period between the revelation of the Alpha and his ultimate reunion with the Luna was called “The King’s New Moon.”

The new moon was the darkest phase of the lunar cycle and the immediate separation from his mate was meant to be a test of the Alpha’s restraint and bearing. 

Jimin wanted to put his fist through a wall. 

He missed you. 

Fighting Namjoon was nothing compared to the torture of this bureaucratic circus.

As the day progressed he was extremely grateful to have Yoongi and Taehyung at his side. Yoongi agreed to act as interim Praetor while Namjoon recovered and he and Taehyung were quick to fill in any knowledge gaps Jimin had with regards to protocol. 

The first round of ceremonial greetings between packs dragged on more than an hour before the bell struck for a brief recess. In fact, until Taehyung’s rather strange pronouncement, nearly every moment played out with boring predictability.

Though there was one notable surprise. 

Apparently the Iron Claw pack had just undergone a change of leadership and was now under the command of a female alpha named Azira Kai. 

Authority in the Iron Claw pack was traditionally decided through combat, and Azira beat nearly thirty-five challengers to ascend as queen. 

Female alphas were extraordinarily rare. Jimin knew they existed, but Azira was the first one he’d ever heard of. 

Iron Claw’s senior envoy delivered the news himself at the start of the ceremony and personally conveyed the queen’s well wishes. 

Jimin eyed the representative in question speculatively from his corner of the table. At first glance the man seemed much like every other emissary gathered in the crowded hall to fulfil centuries old obligations. But Taehyung had always possessed a strange sense about people. 

His instincts could not be easily dismissed. 

“I will keep that in mind,” he whispered as he sent the young man a courteous nod.

The sun had already begun to set when a messenger from the chief elder’s chambers arrived at your door. At long last the ceremonial requirements were drawing to a close and soon the elder’s council would be sending you instructions.

However...‘soon’ could mean anything from twenty minutes to five hours. 

“You might as well rest while you can,” Jin teased with a salacious wiggle of his brows. “Who knows what strenuous activity you might find yourself involved in when they finally let that boy loose.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to pretend that your cheeks weren’t burning with embarrassment. 

“I will rest, but not for any reason you’re thinking.”

Truth be told, your nerves were a bit… frayed. 

A frustration was building within you and nothing seemed to satisfy it. You weren’t even sure what you were wanting, but you definitely wanted it. 

“Of course not,” your cousin chuckled as you gathered your gloves and wandered back to the bedroom. 

An hour later Jin’s boredom found him snuggled up on the couch near the fireplace reading over an old cookbook from your mother’s pantry.

“Heavens… no wonder Aunt Isa’s kimchi is so dry. This is a disgrace.”

Suddenly the front door began to shake and pound violently. Strange smells carried through the air and his eyes widened. 

Foreign wolves. 

He drew in a deep breath and immediately growled in frustration. 

Foreign alphas.

A small bowl of red powder sat on the mantle above the hearth. Jin just barely managed to toss it into the flames before the door splintered off its hinges. 

“Hello boys,” he drawled, unleashing a massive dose of pheromones while the knives strapped to his forearms slid smoothly to his hands. “What brings you here?”

“I just heard the strangest news,” Min Yoongi narrowed his eyes at the small scrap of paper passed to him by one of the council aides. 

“Oh?”

The next set of guild masters were making their way to Jimin at a snail’s pace. It would be several seconds before he needed to greet them. 

“One of the healers sent word that Namjoon has disappeared from his assigned recovery room.” He shook his head curiously. “Where do you suppose he’s gone?”

Jimin’s eyes widened. 

That mangy mutt. He’s probably bent Yunli over every surface of her brother’s house by now. Goddess above! He couldn’t hold out for six more days? 

“I’m sure I have no idea.”

I should have killed him. This is a disaster. He can barely walk, how does he expect to-

“The Miner’s Guild is honored to serve at the pleasure of the Alpha.”

Jimin nodded regally and forced up a pleasant smile. 

“The honor is entirely mine, Master Lee. I look forward to-”

A loud crash split the solemn hush of the room as a young member of the council guard burst through the heavy wooden doors. 

“Red smoke! Red smoke rises from the Luna’s hearth!”

Jimin felt his heart plummet into his stomach. 

Chaos erupted immediately. 

“Call for the guards!”

“We must notify the healers.”

“The messengers just spoke to her-”

“Is it an attack?”

“ENOUGH!”

The Alpha’s voice cut across the assembly with authoritative resonance. 

Every eye turned to him in expectation. 

But he could only think of you. 

“Jung, lock the building down. Take your clansmen and seal off every entrance.”

Murmurs began to stir through the hall as Hoseok directed his people toward the access points, but he ignored them. 

“Choi. Make for the healers. Have a dozen of them meet us there.”

Jimin was already heading for the door. The deadly length of his claws flashed ominously in the firelight. 

“Kim, Min, Jeon - with me.”

The three alphas in question fell in step behind him without a word. 

The scene at the Luna’s home was nightmarish. 

Jimin ran to your room immediately, but all he found was a broken window and the lingering scent of your fear. 

His wolf howled in anguish as he fell to his knees and screamed in rage. 

At the front of the house four badly beaten bodies lay strewn about the kitchen and living room area. Most of the furniture was destroyed and the scent of carnage soaked the air. 

“Jin!”

The omega stood at the center of the rubble. There was a nasty slash running up his right leg and another grievous wound near his ribs. 

But his arms were wrapped around a massive foriegn wolf with the thin blade of his favorite knife pressed against the intruders throat. 

“What happened here?” Yoongi gasped. “And that smell-” he moved his hand to cover his nose. 

“Pheromones,” Taehyung nearly gagged. 

His eyes fell to the corpses - examining their injuries with a critical gaze. 

“Jin, you dangerous bastard.”

The omega simply smiled and forced the prisoner onto his knees. 

“I don’t understand…” Jungkook shook his head. 

“He flooded them with omega pheromones... These four were unmated.” The Kim alpha let out a cold chuckle. “He triggered their ruts… and they killed each other over him.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. 

Male omegas really were terrifying.

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed and he considered the scene. 

“None of this makes sense. The scent markers are clearly from the Iron Claw pack. They didn’t even bother to mask…”

Jungkook and Yoongi began to search the bodies for any hint of their motives or identity when Jimin returned from your room. His fury was palpable in the air around him. 

“Why would anyone kidnap a Luna?” he snarled. “The divine bloodline is sacred to all wolves. Who would be so reckless?”

Jin shook his head.

“I don’t know.” His knife twisted into the prisoner’s neck. “But he does.”

Jimin crouched down in front of the foreigner, fighting every urge in his soul to tear the mountains apart for his mate.  

“Where is she?”

The prisoner sneered.

“You may be a powerful Alpha, but you are not of my pack or my blood.  I’ll never tell you anything.”

“Oh,” Jimin’s eyes flashed with golden fire, “I think you will.” 

Heavy. 

That was how you felt. 

Your body was sore (like it had been tossed and carried a long distance) and your mind was out of focus (as if everything around you was moving either too quickly or too slowly - honestly you couldn’t quite tell).

You remembered being drugged; some sort of compound pressed against your nose and mouth.  

Glass from the window shattered onto your face…

Then unfamiliar scents and unfamiliar hands closed in on all sides. 

Too fast for you to react.

Too shocking for anyone to have predicted. 

Nothing like this had ever happened and there was no reason to believe it would. 

To harm a Luna was sacrilege. 

It was simply not done. 

What could drive men to such a course of action? 

You should be afraid; terrified even.  

But you weren’t.

Your eyes fluttered open to take your new surroundings. You could vaguely see the shape of seven or eight wolves - alphas by the smell of them-

And then you smiled. 

It wasn’t your usual impish grin or anything close to soft or inviting. 

It was a cold twist that crept over your lips as you watched your abductors set up their camp. 

After a moment, one of them noticed your strange expression. 

“Looks like the little Luna hit her head on the way here,” he called out to his comrades with an amused snort. “You should have been more careful with her, Mac.”

He shook his head and made his way over to where you were tied up. The young alpha reeked so heavily of sweat and self-importance, you almost gagged. 

“What’s got you so amused, Miss Luna?”

It was more of a taunt than a question, but your smile widened nonetheless. 

“My mate is going to kill you.” 

Shock flickered over his features for just a second before he threw his head back and laughed. 

“We’ll be long gone before your sweet little alpha even knows we’re here.” He gripped your chin between his fingers and you snarled. “We masked our scent as soon as we got you - and there isn’t a wolf alive that could track our crew through the woods.”

“You’re wrong,” you whispered. 

Jimin’s face flashed through your mind - followed immediately by another memory, buried deeply, but never forgotten—

of a frightened little girl and the silver wolf who braved the forest and fought a monster to save her. 

“He’ll come for me - no matter what precautions you’ve taken.” You leaned forward a bit, letting the conviction in your gaze blaze through to the depths of your captor’s soul. “And then - he’ll come for you.” 

If you are already in the taglist, then I will automatically tag you for the next part! If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know.

And also please tell me what you thought of this update! I am really excited to hear your thoughts! (I know it was kind of unexpected right?) Feedback really does fuel my writing and hearing from you means a lot to me! On days that its hard to write, I go back and I read your lovely words and it makes me want to keep going! I cannot overstate its value in my heart! 

[summerwritesfics]

🩷I’ve Been Wasting Away

Pairing: Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang/Harumi Hasashi Length: 4647 Words Rating: Mature Warnings: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied Neglect, Starvation, Malnutrition, Being Held Prisoner, There is some debate in the fic on if Kuai is an adult or not but he is 18 tho, Harumi looking at Kuai Liang: I can fix him

Mortal Kombat Oneshots Masterlist

Notes: Ptthh, the fact I’m actually somewhat managing to keep to my self imposed posting schedule is something. Again this was written like last December some time I just hadn’t gotten around to posting it yet. This one was written to be a one shot, but I maybe one day I’ll add more to it (look, if you can’t tell already, I’m really bad with having a million fic projects at one time lmao.) Also Harumi being the previous Shirai Ryu Grandmaster’s daughter is a headcanon that Ed Boon himself will have to pry from my hands.

Harumi knew something was going on. She wasn't stupid. She was 21 years old and knew when things were going down around here. Given how many senior Shirai Ryu warriors were running around, it was something big too.

They were all congregating around the jail, meaning they had to have a prisoner. As she spied on them, hearing whispers of “Lin Kuei”. She bit her lip, heading towards the Grandmaster's dojo.

“Father!” She burst through the doors, where her father was stood with some of his closest generals, including the father of her fiancé. “Is it true? Is there a Lin Kuei here?”

“Harumi, you know you shouldn't be here,” Akihito softly scolded. She could see a couple of the generals smile to themselves, it was an open secret that the only person who could break the rules without consequences was Harumi. It was a little upsetting having the reputation as a “daddy’s girl” but sometimes she did use it to her advantage.

“Yes, yes,” she waved off the complaint. “But is it true?”

Akihito hesitated, before admitting “yes, it is.” He then pointed his finger at her and in his best authoritative voice told her, “but you are not to get involved in any of this, do you understand me?”

She pouted. She understood her father's desire to keep her safe, why he'd forbade her from joining the Shirai Ryu, but it still made her a little angry. She wanted to be useful to her family, the Shirai Ryu had accepted female warriors for decades. Why couldn’t she join their ranks and fight side by side with her friends and husband-to-be?

Before she could voice her objections, she heard a gentle cough from one side.

“Actually, Grandmaster Hisakawa, I do believe she may be able to help.” All faces in the room turned to Master Hasashi, most of them shocked, Harumi curious and her father looking like he was about to start chewing him out. “The Lin Kuei has been refusing to eat, we worry that if we can not convince him to, he will be too weak to last an interrogation.” He turned his face toward her. “We believe he is scared. You have a very calming presence, Harumi, you may be able to convince him to eat.”

“Kaito,” Akihito warned lowly.

“Grandmaster, I am not convinced that this Lin Kuei is of age,” Kaito argued. Harumi frowned, the Lin Kuei's tactics she knew of rarely made sense to her, but it seemed needlessly reckless to send a child into battle. “And even if he is, I doubt he can be any older than 18. If this is the case, he will not know anything of importance. Hell, he likely doesn't even know why he was sent here.”

“It does seem suspicious,” one of the other masters, Chie, added in. She was stroking her hair back as she spoke. “13 is considered old enough to go on missions in the Lin Kuei, but they don’t tend send them on solo missions until at least 20. Why send someone so young on a solo mission, especially one right into the heart of their greatest enemies operation?”

“Unless they were hoping our hatred of the Lin Kuei would trump our empathy for someone so young,” Noboru almost mumbled, like he was considering something. “Unless they were sending him here to die.”

Harumi shuddered at the thought. Even if the Lin Kuei was over 18, it sounded like he couldn't be older than herself. The thought of someone sending him out with the intent of him getting killed? That was horrific. She had been told her entire life of the brutal conditions the Lin Kuei worked under, but this was beyond anything she could imagine.

Akihito closed his eyes, and sighed, before he turned to Harumi. “I do not wish to ask this of you, but Kaito is right. You are the most calming presence we have here, you may be able to succeed in gaining his trust.”

“I will not let you down,” she announced, so glad to finally have a use within the Shirai Ryu. Sure, mediator wasn't the most action packed of jobs, but it was a skill she figured most of the others were lacking. “I will go warm up the miso soup I made earlier and see if I can convince him to take it.”

“Please be careful, even if he is young, he could still be dangerous,” Akihito warned, placing his hand on her cheek. “If he so much as lays a finger on you, it's over.”

“I understand, I'm sure it won't have to happen like that.” She bowed to her father and the other masters, who bowed to her in turn. With that, she turned on her heel to go and gather the soup.

With the hot soup in her hands, she made her way over to the jail, where Akihito and his masters were stood explaining the situation to the current guards. The guards that just so happened to be made of Hanzo and his two friends Junpei and Katashi. She could see before she even got close that Hanzo was not happy.

“I am ready,” she announced, everyone turning to her. Hanzo was glaring at her, she was definitely going to have to make this up to him later.

“I still think someone should go in with her,” Junpei piped up, “maybe Hanzo should-”

“The kid is scared,” Kaito butted in, “if someone goes in there armed to the teeth, it's just going to put him further on edge.”

“I'll be fine,” Harumi assured everyone, but she could see it did absolutely nothing to persuade Hanzo. “If I need help I will call for it.”

Reluctantly everyone moved aside and the door was slid open. She didn't make any eye contact as she stepped inside and the door was closed behind her. The jail was small, the Shirai Ryu didn't take prisoners often, so there were only two cells. Sat curled in a ball with his head ducked under his knees, chained up, was what she could only assume was the Lin Kuei.

He wasn't wearing a shirt, and she was a little sickened by what she saw. He had muscle, that was certain, but that didn't really hide how thin he was. She could see his ribs for fucks sake. That wasn't just a few hours refusing to eat, that was months, maybe even years, of lack of food. Maybe the reason they were having such a hard time pin pointing his age was due to stunted growth and malnutrition. The thought made her blood boil.

Still, she took a deep breath and softly called out, “hello, my name is Harumi.”

The Lin Kuei tensed, but moved his head until his eyes were at least visible. She was struck by just how blue his eyes were. She tried to ignore the large jagged scar over his right eye.

“I've been asked to give you food,” she explained, passing the bowl of soup through the bars and gently placing it on the floor in front of him.

“I refuse to eat,” the Lin Kuei hissed. Even his voice was as ambiguous regarding his age, not light or deep enough to say for sure if he was an adult or not. “Tell your masters I choose to die.”

“Well, my masters don't want to kill you,” she tried, settling down on the floor in front of him. “And we would rather you eat.”

“Why?” The Lin Kuei asked, finally jerking his head up and putting his legs down. “I know nothing that would be of use to you! The Lin Kuei will not come for me, and will not negotiate for my release. You have no choice but to kill me.”

“Hm, no I think we do have other choices,” Harumi disagreed, trying to stop herself from giggling at the way the Lin Kuei pouted. “And I'm afraid you not eating isn't one of them. If you don't we may have to force feed you, and trust me, that is a very unpleasant situation to be in.”

The Lin Kuei didn't say anything, just frowned like he was considering what she'd said. He didn't go for the soup though. She reached forward, pushing it a little closer to him. He regarded it for a second, before he finally reached for it and after sniffing it began to eat. Harumi let out a relieved sigh.

“Thank you,” she softly said, curious about his reaction to the soup. He seemed surprised, but not repulsed. “So, what's your name?”

The Lin Kuei glared at her like she'd just asked him to jump off a cliff. Eventually however he mumbled out the word “Tundra.”

She knew it must have been a codename, but at least she had something to call him now.

“How old are you, Tundra?” She asked. He looked at her again, although this time he looked more confused.

“Why?” He asked, looking very guarded.

“It's been a bit of a debate since you got here,” she tried with a smile. “I would appreciate being able to put an end to it.”

Tundra looked at her like she was mad, but eventually answered, “I'm 18.” So, he was an adult, but barely. “Wait, is that why they don't want to kill me? Because they think I'm a kid?”

“Even at 18, you're a little young to be considered for execution.”

“I'm 18! I'm an adult!” The fact he was practically throwing a tantrum was really not helping his case.

“Well, I'm 21 and due to be married, but my father still considers me a child, so trust me, you have no chance of convincing them you aren't one.” They stared at each other for a solid minute in silence. Then to Harumi's complete surprise, Tundra began to laugh.

“That's so weird,” Tundra giggled. “Then again, my brother still treats me like I'm a kid, even though I’ve been going on missions for years. This was meant to be the one where I proved him wrong.” He stopped laughing, staring at the chains cuffed to his wrists. “I guess I fucked that up, hm.”

“I don't think that was your fault,” Harumi sympathised.

She wanted to question a Lin Kuei having a brother. She knew they generally didn't hold onto family ties. There were only two consistent bloodlines in the Lin Kuei, the Grandmaster's bloodline and the Sub Zero bloodline. She doubted Tundra was part of the Grandmaster's bloodline, there was no way he'd have been sent here alone.

She then realised something.

Blue eyes. The name Tundra. Having an older brother.

Oh. Oh shit.

She tried not to let her realisation show, she didn't want Tundra to question her. She instead continued to make small talk, until he'd finished his soup. She took the bowl, told him that she'd be back to let him know what was going to happen to him, and left.

When she stepped out, she saw the brief moment of relief on everyone's face. That was until they saw how serious she looked, at which point the nervous energy swiftly returned.

“Harumi? My girl, what's wrong?” Akihito asked, pushing forward to take her face in his hands. She looked at him, and gulped, unsure how he would take the suspicion she was about to drop on him.

“I think he might be Sub Zero's brother.”

She had anticipated that her suspicion would be met with a level on unease.

She hadn't anticipated the sheer panic it caused.

An emergency meeting had been called, and she was unfortunately front and centre. Thankfully, other than herself it was just her father, Kaito, Chie, Noboru, Hanzo, Junpei and Katashi. Even so, everyone was looking at her extremely expectantly, and she wasn't sure what to say.

“Harumi, would you care to explain why you have come to the conclusion you have?” Akihito slowly questioned. “Did he tell you he was related to Sub Zero?”

“No,” she explained, realising just how little evidence she had. It was more just a passing and nagging thought that snowballed. “All he told me for definite was that his name is Tundra, he's 18, and he doesn't think the Lin Kuei will come or negotiate for him.”

“Then, why do you think he's related to Sub Zero?” Chie asked, she sounded unsure, likely hoping that it was just a crazy theory.

“Well, it was a couple of things.” She reached to brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “He has blue eyes, like really blue eyes, like unnaturally blue eyes." She heard Junpei snort as if that meant nothing. “Then there's the name. Tundra. Kind of winter related.” She saw Katashi rolling his eyes. “And then he mentioned having a brother. And I thought that was weird cause the Lin Kuei don't normally keep families together, right?”

The room was silent. Junpei and Katashi still looked disbelieving, and so did Hanzo to a degree. The masters in the room however, looked far more troubled by this.

“I didn't ask, because I didn't want to scare him further.” She linked her fingers together and made eye contact with her father. “It just seemed strange, and that was the only explanation I could think of.”

It was still silent. Akihito slowly turned to Junpei and Katashi, and quietly ordered “please can you bring him here.”

Junpei and Katashi suddenly looked a lot more serious, and they scrambled to go and leave the room. Hanzo turned back to them, now looking like he was also no longer as skeptical.

“You really think he could be related?” Hanzo asked, eyes darting around but mostly landing on his own father.

“Lin Kuei don't care for family,” Kaito explained, “They only have two constant bloodlines, and I highly doubt that the Lin Kuei are sending someone from the Grandmaster's bloodline on a solo mission like this at 18.”

It didn't take too long for Junpei and Katashi to return, Tundra in tow. He was still cuffed and chained up, but he wasn't resisting. It looked more like he was resigned to whatever fate they had chosen for him.

“Tundra, is it? We have not been properly introduced,” Akihito stated as he stood up from his chair. God, with Tundra standing she could see how short he was, especially compared to her father. He practically towered above him. “I am Grandmaster Hisakawa Akihito.”

“I know,” Tundra replied, sounding like he wanted to be brave and disrespect the man in front of him, but the shake in his voice giving him away.

Akihito gestured for Tundra to be brought to the table, pointing to a seat right next to his as head of the table, and opposite Harumi. She had no doubt that this was on purpose. Tundra sat down, glancing across the table to Harumi. She expected him to look pissed off with her, but instead his look was slightly pleading, like he was hoping she would protect him from something.

What does he think we're going to do with him?

“I will skip to the point of this meeting,” Akihito started, holding his hands in front of him on the table with his fingers linked, “you spoke with my daughter earlier.” Tundra's eyes widened, as he gave Harumi a betrayed look. Oh shit, I didn't mention that to him. “And you mentioned having a brother.” Tundra looked back to Akihito, looking like he was trying to remain impartial. “Is your brother Sub Zero?”

Tundra was silent, just shifted like he was uncomfortable.

“Why does that matter?” He muttered, trying to look anywhere but Akihito. In Harumi's mind, this was a resounding “yes” to the question. It seemed her father wanted a more solid answer though.

“Please, just tell us.”

Tundra was silent before he brought a hand to the table. He held it there for a second, a blue glow escaping his finger tips. When he was done, he moved his hand, revealing a tiny bear made of ice on the table. Harumi's jaw dropped.

“Does that answer your question?” Tundra questioned, looking around at the other people in the room, equally as slack jawed as Harumi was. Especially Hanzo. She knew he had a sort of rivalry with Sub Zero, so no doubt having his little brother so close wasn't something he'd expected.

“It does,” Akihito breathed out, gingerly picking up the bear. He looked at it with a small smile on his face, like he was looking at something cute. To be fair, the fact Tundra had chosen to make a mini ice sculpture to prove the point was adorable. Akihito's face dropped, as he looked over to Tundra again. “You could have escaped or attempted to at any point.”

“I could,” Tundra admitted quietly, “but there was no point.” He looked down at his hands and the cuffs. “Even if I escaped and got back to the Lin Kuei, I would be executed for being caught. I've seen it happen before. I'm dead whatever I do, might as well accept that.”

The way Tundra spoke, like his death was inevitable no matter how this went down, was alarming. It was a very depressing way for an 18 year old to be thinking. Someone who should be enjoying the newfound freedoms of adulthood, not fearing his own execution.

“We aren't going to kill you,” Akihito tried to assure him, but it was clear Tundra did not believe that. “What about your brother? Sub Zero is a prestigious lineage, surely he could have some sway with your elders.”

Tundra shook his head. “They will just tell him I died by your hands, and he will believe them.”

To Harumi's surprise, Akihito gestured to Junpei to unlock Tundra's cuffs. After being freed, Tundra just looked at the Grandmaster expectantly. Nothing happened, and Harumi wasn't sure what was supposed to be occurring right now.

“You are still not attempting escape.”

“I've told you, there's no point.” Tundra rubbed his wrists. “And I don't know enough for you to bother keeping me alive, so can we just skip this and get to the part where you kill me.”

“You are very insistent on us killing you.” Harumi knew her father, and knew from the way he was speaking he was extremely uncomfortable. He was likely imagining her at 18 years old and in Tundra's place. A quick glance towards Kaito and she could tell he was imagining the same but with Hanzo. “You are 18 years old, you are just barely an adult, we are not going to harm you.”

Harumi just rolled her eyes and lent in slightly as she said “told you.”

Despite the situation, she saw Tundra's mouth quirk slightly. She tried to ignore the strange look her father was giving her.

“If not that, then, what are you going to do with me?” Tundra asked before Akihito could question his daughter.

“Well, seeing as you seem reluctant to leave, we can place you with a guard for the time being until we decide how to further deal with you,” Akihito stated. “I do not feel right just letting you rot inside that jail.” And then Akihito's head turned to Hanzo, who jumped at the sudden attention towards him. “Hasashi Hanzo, I request that you be Tundra's guardian for the time being.”

“I- me?” Hanzo, for the first time since Harumi had known him, seemed completely speechless.

“Yes, I believe this will be a good way for you to prove yourself to us.” Akihito had a smirk on his face, he knew that was a surefire way to get Hanzo to agree. Hanzo was always eager to show himself to be a valuable member of the clan. “Not to mention, it seems your wife-to-be has taken quite a shine to your new ward, I'm sure she would very much appreciate if you did.”

Harumi gave Hanzo her best puppy dog eyes to plead with him. If they looked after Tundra it meant that he would live with them. Meaning she could maybe start to try and unravel whatever the hell the Lin Kuei had done to him. At the least, she might be able to start feeding him properly and get him to a healthier weight.

Hanzo grimaced, but finally relented with, “it would be my honour, Grandmaster.”

For all Hanzo's cocky assurance that he was an unpredictable renegade, he was so very very very predictable.

Akihito turned back to Tundra, “do you have any objections to this?”

“No?” Tundra didn't look like he meant that to be a question, but at the same time he seemed completely blindsided by this development.

“Then it is settled.” Akihito brushed his hands as if to indicate that the decision was final.

Harumi went to stand, walking over to the opposite side of the table and holding her hand to Tundra. He hesitated but eventually took it and let her pull him to his feet. She desperately ignored the warning sirens in her head telling her that he was way too light. Hanzo was standing by the door waiting for them. As she approached she gave him a look to tell him they'd talk later, and he nodded in understanding. Tundra looked a little uncomfortable with Hanzo, but Harumi hoped that once he wasn't in his armour, that would change.

She hoped.

“So this is what my life has become,” Hanzo sighed over dramatically. “Babysitter to a stray Lin Kuei.”

Harumi looked up from where she was chopping a spring onion. Upon returning home, she had guided Tundra to the bathroom so he could have a wash and change into some clean clothes. It was some of Hanzo's off duty wear, so she was sure they'd be a bit too big for him, but it was the thought that counted. Still with Kuai in the bath, it gave Harumi time to talk to Hanzo about what they were going to do.

“I know it's probably not how you expected today to go,” she tried, as the scraped the spring onion into her pot, “but it is a good way to show the elder's your dedication to your responsibilities.”

“I hate that's such an effective tool against me,” he muttered, reaching to his hair tie and letting his hair go free. “I'm just going to have to try and look past the fact he's the younger brother of my biggest rival.”

“Yes, yes you are.” She got out the chicken and started to dice it. “But he's not really that much younger than us, I'm sure he'd rather live with us treating him like an equal than with one of the elders treating him like a child.” She smirked and looked over her shoulder at him, “besides he seems far more mature than you were at 18.”

“Excuse you, I was a very mature 18 year old, thank you very much.” Hanzo crossed his arms and looked like a stroppy child.

“Oh really? Mr. Climbs-up-on-the-roof-and-jumps-off-it-because-he-thinks-he-can-survive-it-and-ends-up-breaking-his-leg.”

Hanzo just offered her a sheepish smile at the memory and said “to be fair, I did survive.”

“You are unbelievable,” she muttered, rubbing some salt and pepper over her diced chicken. “I don't know why I ever agreed to marry you.”

She felt arms snake around her waist as Hanzo purred into her ear, “and yet you did.”

She rolled her eyes and turned her head, just enough to be able to give her boyfriend a kiss.

“Oh, ew.”

They both looked over to the doorway to find Tundra stood there, hair still slightly wet and wearing Hanzo's clothes. As Harumi suspected, they were far too big for him, and it was almost funny, like a small child raiding his fathers wardrobe. Almost. If it weren’t a stark reminder of how underweight the young man was.

Hanzo separated from her, and they both watched as Tundra cautiously walked into the room.

“Ah good, Tundra, I'm making chicken ramen for dinner, is that okay with you?”

There was no reply, and she looked back to him. He just looked completely lost.

“I-” he bit his lip and started to rub one of his wrists. “I don't know what that is.”

She hadn't even considered that Tundra was from a completely different culture, and likely didn't eat the same foods she and Hanzo did. This was a good way to start finding a way to bond and gain his trust.

“Ramen is a noodle soup,” she replied and Tundra nodded in understanding. “I'm sorry, I hadn't considered that you might not be familiar with Japanese foods. Are there any Chinese dishes you like? I can try making them, if you'd like.”

Tundra somehow looked even more uncomfortable. “I- Um. I'm not familiar with food. The Lin Kuei's diet is just plain rice with a meat or fish.” Harumi gripped her knife tighter. Rice and a bit of meat was not a healthy diet, at all. “A-also, food is a privilege, so I do not feel right asking you for something unless I've earned it.”

Oh boy. Any reaction she could have possibly had to those words was trumped by the look of sheer abject horror on Hanzo's face.

“What do you mean, food is a privilege?” He demanded, his voice barely holding back his rage. She was surprised he'd had such an extreme reaction, but put down the chicken and went to wash her hands so she could potentially hold her husband back.

“I- Well-” Tundra looked terrified, looking like he was preparing to shield himself from a physical attack. “I- If we fail a training exercise, food privilege's are taken from us and we're not allowed to eat.” Kuai looked down and away. “I failed a lot.”

That explained why he was so thin, they were literally starving him. She managed to reach Hanzo, putting a hand on his shoulder and mouthing at him “calm down”. He looked at her for a second, then back to Tundra, his eyes widening when he realised the young man was scared of his anger. He took a deep breath.

“Well, that isn't how things work around here,” Hanzo said, somewhat calmer, but his rage still lingering in the tone of his voice. “Food isn't a privilege here, it's a right. You are allowed to eat whenever you want. There are set meals we have, but they will never be taken from you. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” Tundra muttered, sounding completely miserable.

“It's okay that you don't know what you like yet, we can try out different things and see what sticks,” Harumi offered, desperate to try and deescalate the situation. “For example, did you like the soup from earlier?”

“Y-yes I did,” Tundra nodded. Harumi wasn't sure if he was just being nice, and didn't want to push his luck with them. Still, she was sure after he got used to things he'd feel safer being honest with them.

“Well, that's a good start,” she claimed. Now that she thought about it, it did explain the strange expression on his face when he first ate it. He likely wasn't used to food that actually had taste.

“So, um, is- is there anything I can do to help right now?” Tundra asked, looking at Hanzo with a worried expression. It seemed Hanzo's outburst had really spooked him. Harumi would have to try and remember to find a solution to that problem.

“No, not really. Why don't you go have a look around the house and get used to where everything is?” She suggested, watching as Tundra nodded and started to walk off.

When he was out of the room, she turned to Hanzo who looked at her quietly before saying “I think I understand why you were so worried for him now.”

Harumi sighed. This was going to be a challenge.

[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.  

[tolkien-feels]

I was reading this post you made, and it just made me think “oh thank god it’s probable that Galadriel at that age never met Andreth because she would put her foot in her mouth and Andreth is not the type to take that lying down.”

Like I think lotr Galadriel would consider Andreth her in law in spirit, but first she Galadriel would have been like “yeah he probably did leave you because your mortal, it’s just practical,” not really thinking about her feelings or even Aegnor really or the complexities of the situation while Finrod just sits there like “😨” like again, don’t think Galadriel doesn’t grow out of this view and by the time of lotr she would utterly cringe at her thought process and think it’s needlessly cringe and like I’d Andreth showed up tomorrow she be fighting Finrod to schedule the wedding but I think first age Galadriel and Andreth would hate each other.

I hope this doesn’t come off as rude or anything. It’s just been a feeling I’ve had for a while. And I do love imaging Andreth with her in-laws. I’d like to think Finarfin would worry he offend her because he’s never interacted much with humans in a domestic setting only a military one. I think he go full “we can’t let them know we SIT” while earwen is like totally not afraid she says as she is like “Finrod what does she like? Does she like these or those? I AM CALM?!” They wanna be the cool in laws so bad.

Oh, look, I don't have to hunt the post because you've already done it for me! Thanks anon! You know exactly how disorganized I am and I appreciate that :D

This isn't a rude ask at all (or at least I don't think it is??) and I think Galadriel is a fascinating character because she grows so much, but almost all of it happens offscreen so we don't know exactly how it happened. So it's always fun to think of scenarios where her reaction would be very different depending on the timeline.

I've thought about Andreth and Galadriel before and the impression I get is that they're equally proud and headstrong, but it outwardly looks very different: Andreth looks fiery while Galadriel looks icy. I don't necessarily headcanon them fighting because I think both of them would know how to avoid each other instead, but I can't imagine them becoming BFFs in the First Age. Even after Arda is remade, I think they'll be the last people to in the family to warm up to each other, simply because they're too similar and not in a way that necessarily invites friendship. I can see them becoming ride or die for each other in time, but they'd need time in order to get there. (Though I also think when they do finally become close friends, they'd be a force to be reckoned with, and ironically, would understand each other better than either of them understands Aegnor.)

I also have a whole headcanon about Galadriel actually growing a lot watching the Aegnor/Andreth story happen (I handwave how she knows about it), and ultimately that plays a huge role in how supportive she is of Aragorn and Arwen.

Now Finarfin and Earwen I keep imagining as getting along with Boromir and his unnamed wife but not quite knowing how to relate to Andreth herself, not even because she's a mortal, but simply because even among elves who love so deeply, Aegnor loves her, and they are so anxious to do everything right that they're treating the whole thing like a test that they have to pass instead of an opportunity to get to know a person

[panlight]

How do you think the saga would be different if every character (aside from 3 'bitches' 😒) wasn't written to immediately love and adore Bella?

I'd like to think Esme would be one of those 'no girl will ever be good enough for my son' mothers lol.

I think I would have liked Bella better, for one.

I don't know what it is about me, but I NEVER put myself in the main character's shoes. I don't know why. It's just not how I read or consume media. The main character, in my head, is just one of many characters and not my proxy, so books like Twilight that are, per word of the author, kind of designed with the main character as the reader proxy, a vessel through which the reader can experience the world, just don't work for me. I know I'm supposed to be thrilled by the attention Bella/I get from Edward, to be thrilled to be loved and welcomed by this rich, beautiful family; to be included in this group of boisterous, warm friends in La Push; to have this amazing perfect daughter I don't even have to raise; to get to be the best vampire ever.

But I don't read books that way, so the whole time I'm just like WHY is everyone bending over backwards for this girl? Why is everyone in love with her? Who IS she? I wasn't filling her in with my own personality and interests, I was waiting for her to be fleshed out (it took Midnight Sun for that to happen).

It just didn't feel realistic to me that everyone was 100% on board with Bella and protecting her and it was all no big deal and of course we'll do it, sweetie, and if they didn't, they were BAD. Rosalie is a monster for wondering if it's worth risking the whole family for this girl Edward has been dating for like two minutes. The wolves consistently show up for Bella when this is absolutely not their fight/not their problem and none of them have a problem with this apparently except Leah, who is framed as a 'bitter harpy.' Everyone at school wants to be besties with Bella the shiny new toy except for Lauren who, again, super bitch, apparently. Bella makes like zero effort to be friends with any of these human kids but they all still consider her a friend in Breaking Dawn and she just cuts them all out of her life and never thinks of or mentions them again; in New Moon, Jessica is ABSOLUTELY within her rights to cut off contact with Bella after that stunt at the movies where Bella approached that group of sketchy guys.

Alice is just like "yeah it must be hard to choose between Edward and Jacob!" like Edward isn't her brother and will be miserable for eternity if Bella picks the other guy. How on earth can Alice be neutral here and not be like "You're like a sister to me, but if you break my brother's heart I will never forgive you." It's so weird! The Cullens are apparently just not bothered at all by whatever she has going on with Jacob, none of them are skeptical or worried for Edward's sake that she's going to dump him? They're just 100% totally supportive?

Likewise the wolf pack is still willing to include her with things and be friends with her when she keeps choosing actual vampires over them? Why? Jacob didn't imprint on her. They aren't forced to hang out with her for Jacob's sake. I get their mission is to protect humans, but it seems more like Protect Bella than anything.

Leah shows up and yells at Bella for being selfish about Jacob, keeping him around when she knows it hurts him, and we're supposed to be mad at Leah for yelling at a pregnant lady rather than accept that maybe Leah has a point?

The idea that Esme might not think Bella is "good enough" for Edward is such a fun one. Rather than just "you are already a beloved daughter to me! Let me tell you my sad story and then we'll never meaningfully speak again!" maybe she's like "She seems nice Edward but Tanya can match you intellectually and musically and isn't a fragile human high school girl." Maybe Jasper is more vocally opposed to her presence like "I can't relax in my own home with this human girl around because I have to constantly fight the urge to kill her, maybe spend time with her somewhere else, Edward? Just because you seem to get off on torturing yourself needlessly doesn't mean the rest of us do."

Maybe Emmett is more on Rosalie's side? Not mean to Bella or anything but like "Rose ain't wrong about having this human around constantly putting us in danger, Eddie. I know you like her, but what about the rest of us? Is Ma or Pops or me getting killed by some nomads or wolves or the Volturi so you can stare dreamily at this girl really worth it?"

But none of these characters are allowed to experess anything like that because the fantasy IS that Bella is loved and accepted and instantly brought into this family, no questions asked (except Rosalie, whom no one seems to like).

It would help balance things more. And in a paradoxical way it would make Bella more likeable to me because there wouldn't be this weird bubble of protection and adoration around her. She'd feel more like a real person, a real character, when everyone else's "goodness" isn't dependent on whether they are Team Bella or not.