#mutuals ignore this it’s past my bedtime

[avese23]

I read this three times and still can barely see how you missed the point so terribly and normally I would correct you kindly but this is not an academic space and this is about the honor of lesbians so claws open, friend.

OP didn’t mention sex. OP mentioned women. I didn’t mention sex. I mentioned lesbians.

Only you brought up sex. You saw the word lesbian and your mind jumped to sex. Put your angry typing thumbs down and examine that.

Now either you’ve blocked me, tuned me out, or maybe you’re still reading. Comprehension, that’s sexy of you. We can work with that.

OP from reasonable assumption, was discussing the phenomenon of people who primarily drift toward male characters but have internalized misandry beating them out of shape cuz how could anything masculine be positive? We need to feminize him. Here warps the misandry into misogyny as you see tumblr users turning “post your favorite female character” posts into “well, he’s a woman to me.” Hence frustration, especially because often times character traits seen as charitable and tropable in male characters are received with annoyance or hatred when seen in female characters. If you’re still paying attention, what’s your favorite color? Hence OPs point.

I, picking up on this context, could see where OP is coming from. The internet do be misogynistic. The internet also struggles with shame around liking men. A lot of spaces are one skip away from transmisogynist rhetoric, it’s concerning. Anywho, as someone who rarely sees this problem off the internet I offered a positive to the vent.

A little tongue in cheek but also great fucking advice. Because if you’re sick of people putting male characters on a pedestal there’s nothing like a lesbian to reinstate your faith in feminist approaches to media. Not because they have “temporary desires” (also what are you smoking?? cuz I get that I’m demi but you’re the first person aside from cis men named Brad I’ve heard call any feeling toward a woman a temporary desire.) but because however sick the average person might be of the gender gap in media, lesbians are more sick of it. Google “heteronormativity,” talk to anyone about the exhaustion of having men thrown at you when you’ve dedicated yourself to a lifestyle based on who you are as a person that specifically centers women. As people. Cuz lesbians are people. Repeat that for me if you’re listening.

Regarding the quotation you’ve put…(which, no clue where you got that from? Like genuinely did you reblog from the wrong post by mistake? If so feel free to delete this and block me cuz this would be very funny content if the dignity of my fellow dykes. Like I was upsetty for a second but this is the second most amusing tumblr mix up I’ve gotten so no hard feelings) you seem to be under the assumption that I don’t like lesbians?? Or that people who lesbians aren’t attracted to cant like lesbians?? Which is weird cuz lesbians are objectively cool af. And my ace gf is a lesbian who I’m very attracted to so…again I don’t know where you’re drawing your sparks from.

Tbh I don’t blame you if you haven’t gotten this far. My brain is on tired mode and your response was so off target that this is less even about responding to you and more my adhd hyperfixating on close reading your text in some futile attempt to see what straws you were grasping. I haven’t had time to get to my sociology tbr and I don’t have an essay due till next week so this was genuinely engaging for my brain. I can’t solve the puzzle of what mistake you made but maybe you have so rejoice to that. OP sorry this is on your post I do not know where they came from but I think I’ve shooed them off lol.

Anywho. Why are you still reading. Despite my greatest efforts I am not a lesbian. I’m an equally sexy dyke but not the same kind. Now go befriend a lesbian! This person is stalling for some reason but you don’t have to. Go talk about how Kylo Ren would have been more engaging if he was written as a woman. Go talk about how Faith Lehane deserved better. Go talk about how Harrowhark is trying her very best and needs a hug but please ask before touching.

And remember the three tenants:

1. Be respectful to lesbians. Implying they’re only about women for the sex is a harmful homophobic stereotype. Also if it were true my besties would be dating but we have a bookclub group chat where they perform literary analysis over fictional instead of flirting. Maybe this poster shouldn’t talk to them if you’re gonna be offensive. They’re busy reading.

2. If you want a meaningful relationship with anyone using terms like “temporary desires” is not a way to do it. “Oh but I don’t do that romance or sex stuff” ok but you can try doing the empathy and common sense stuff. Other people won’t find your dismissal of their sexuality “a flex.” It will make finding friends hard

3. If you’re having trouble explaining a point…maybe the point isn’t ready to be out yet. Don’t embarrass yourself by butting into a conversation that’s nothing to do with the frustration in your head. If you don’t like explaining things, or drawing off of actual sources, go to twitter. This might not be the site for you. There are a lot of lesbians here (ooo espooky) and women who know how to read (eee scary) and like to befriend each other (le gasppp) it can be a lot 😔 <- this is irony btw

"he's like a woman to me!!!" not true because if he was a woman to you you wouldn't give a fuck about him

[sweetkpopmusings]

long for you (act one) | h. hyunjin <3

a/n: hello and welcome to the first act of my hyunjin fic :,-) it is past my bedtime, so please ignore any typos lol. if you'd like to be added to the tag list, you can reply to this post or send me an ask ! pics not mine <3

♡ find all parts here ♡

content: fluff, romance, fake dating, angst, a happy ending | wc: 3.5k | warnings: none really! | pairing: nonbinary!painter!hyunjin x gn!writer!reader | requests: open

synopsis: y/n is a writer with a long-awaited, well-deserved career opportunity. despite the excitement, there’s one major problem: the publisher expects a modern love story, equally romcom-like and authentic, but y/n lacks the inspiration to write something worth reading. through a chance meeting with mutual friends, y/n and hyunjin bond over upcoming deadlines and creative blocks. before the conversation ends, they discover that the ridiculous plot of fake dating might just work to solve their inspirational dry spell.

act one: a modern love story

groaning, you push your laptop to the side and rest your head against your hands.

felix, from the other side of your dining table, holds back a laugh, “that bad, huh?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes despite them being closed, “worse, probably.”

you hear felix shift in his chair, and you know he’s resting his chin on his hands, his classic flower pose he uses whenever you need his smile to cheer up. letting the frustration hang over you, a few minutes pass before you look up to see the sweet boy across from you. when you do, you can’t help the small smile that breaks through your bitter face.

“hah! i knew you couldn’t resist me,” felix teases, leaning back in his seat but making no move to take his attention away from you.

knowing he’s going to ask you what’s wrong, you explain, “so, you know how earlier this week i booked that gig with the publishing company?”

“yeah, the ghostwriting job for Odd One Out, right?”

you nod, “exactly. this is supposed to be a great thing. arguably the best thing that could happen for my writing career, even if it’s a book my name can’t be on, since it’s at least a foot in the door. and i’m not saying i’m ungrateful–”

“but?”

“i’ve been trying all week to come up with even the smallest idea for the prompt they gave me, and it feels as though this is the worst writer’s block i’ve ever had and ever will experience.”

felix frowns, sympathetic, “do you think maybe the pressure of such a big opportunity is getting to you? i know all of us, at one point or another, have hit a wall because of imposter syndrome or just plain anxiety.”

you let his words bounce around your mind for a little. they don’t seem incorrect–surely such a monumental opportunity would leave you feeling a little apprehensive or stressed–but they don’t seem to capture the full picture. 

“i think…” you glance at felix, a little helplessly, but he just waits patiently until you find the right words, “that’s definitely part of it. if i’m being honest though, i think the biggest obstacle i’m facing is the subject itself.”

“which is?” felix cocks an eyebrow.

you drag your laptop back in front of you and open the window with the email the company sent you detailing your project, “you are tasked with writing a modern love story. one that swoons readers with classic tropes, one that pulls on their heartstrings with the right amount of angst, and, ultimately, one that makes us believe two imperfect people can find the perfect relationship together. we look forward to your first manuscript!”

“oh, i see…”

“yeah. they’ve asked me to write a story that i have practically nothing in my own experiences to draw from. i can’t exactly copy stories that are already out there when the whole point of this novel is that the characters are human and believable. they need me to write a story with heart, with messiness, and certainly with a happy ending. i’ve had the mess a few times, sure, but not for long enough to keep anybody’s attention if i turn the story into something more than a casual conversation piece over drinks.”

you push your laptop away, not wanting to look at the prompt or empty word document for another second. instead, you opt for a swig of your coffee, praying the caffeine would lift your spirits, if nothing else.

felix’s brow is furrowed as the gears in his head turn quickly. it’s hard not to laugh at his expression, cute and sincere simultaneously. you keep yourself quiet, smiling in appreciation of your friend’s genuine concern for your professional predicament.

“first, i’ll admit that this sucks. i can’t imagine how frustrating it’d be to feel almost…disconnected from an assignment you were so excited to receive. i can’t exactly offer help with my relationship history,” felix laughs, sharing your pain of bad luck in love, “but maybe if we combine our disappointments with jisung’s hopeless romantic outlook, you could come up with something?”

you sigh. it wouldn’t be out of the question to ask jisung for help. he’s a dear friend, just like felix, and he never struggles to write a love song for work. creative collaboration wouldn’t hurt, right? well, maybe it hurts your pride a little to go running to your brilliant music producer and songwriter best friend for advice on your first-ever real book deal. at this point, though, what other choice do you have?

“yeah, maybe you’re right.”

felix grins, “let’s go visit him at the studio then! we can bring him lunch in exchange for his assistance!”

“i mean…he is our best friend, so i don’t see why we have to pay him,” you tease, already packing up your things.

“i was going to pay for everyone’s food, but i guess we can all just fend for ourselves–”

“no! i’m being dumb and rude! buying lunch for jisung is a wonderful idea!”

felix laughs, texting jisung to alert him of your ETA and to get his order from your usual restaurant.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

jisung tosses his spoon into the nearly empty takeout container and claps his hands together, “okay! let’s get started!”

you sigh, stretching your arms and neck before pulling out your laptop. felix settles in the corner, ready to spend time on his phone while you and jisung work your magic.

“can i see the prompt they sent you?”

nodding, you hand jisung your laptop and explain, “i understand what they want. almost too well, probably. the issue is i have absolutely no inspiration for it.”

“yeah, i could’ve guessed that,” jisung teases, nervously laughing after the death glare you send him.

felix chimes in from his spot in the studio’s corner, “play nice, jisung! they’re practically baring their soul to you asking for help.”

“okay, let’s not be dramatic here,” you shake your hand to dissipate the idea that you’re being as vulnerable as you are right now.

“drama might help, actually,” felix suggests, not looking up from his phone.

you look over to jisung, waiting for him to weigh in. a bit to your dismay, jisung agrees with felix.

“so you’re saying my life is too boring for me to write this book?”

jisung shakes his head, “no! i’m saying your love life is too boring. i say that with peace and love, of course–”

“how can you–”

jisung continues before you fall down a rabbit hole of bickering, “i think the reason i can write so many love songs is because i put myself out there. sure, i fall too hard too fast and get my heart broken more often than i’d like to admit, but i am able to do what i do because i let my heart experience everything. i haven’t been in real, capital-L love many times; however, even the littlest of loves, the glimpses of a future with someone, those can be a bigger source of inspiration than you’d expect.”

“wow, jisung, that was…really deep.”

you chuckle at felix’s response, before looking at the very earnest jisung again, “it’s not like i haven’t loved someone before. you remember…”

your voice trails off, too afraid to say his name, too afraid to bring the memories of your first love into the room with you. jisung nods knowingly and speaks quickly enough to prevent you from searching for words to fill the empty space.

“i could never forget that, y/n. maybe that could be something you pull from. i’m more than happy to retell you some of my romantic mishaps–you know i’ve got plenty–but i think, for a story as heartfelt as the one they want you to write, for a story as real as the one you want to create, it needs to come from the perspective of you now, not you then.”

you sigh, finding it impossible to disagree with his advice. for as much as you and felix tease him for getting his hopes up with every person he feels the slightest bit of a connection to, you both would admit in a heartbeat that he is the most well-versed lover in the world. you wished, secretly, that you could muster up the courage he does without even blinking an eye. you just weren’t wired like that, especially after you got your heart broken a few years ago.

“so what? do i start dating now and hope that i get enough romance before the first draft is due in three months?”

“good luck with that,” felix scoffs, “there are way too many duds on dating apps these days.”

jisung shoots felix a frustrated look, but he just shrugs in reply. 

“cool, so no dating but i need to fall in love. do either of you happen to have cupid on speed dial?”

they laugh, and felix adds, “if only you could be in a fake dating fanfic or something. then you’d really have something to work with.”

all three of you burst into laughter at the idea, and, once you calm down, jisung says, “actually…there might be something to that.”

“you can’t be serious?” you raise an eyebrow skeptically.

jisung puts his hands up defensively, “hear me out! it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to fake date someone you know, if it’s for the sake of work. between the three of us, we could probably find someone!”

“no way am i sending out requests for a fake partner. that couldn’t work, and it would be so embarrassing.” 

you shiver at the idea. jisung doesn’t budge, though he admits that it’s a long shot for it to work. felix suggests that you three reminisce about jisung’s recent romantic pursuits, which you do for a couple of hours. when it’s time for you to pack your things, you’re barely farther than the starting line. jisung apologizes that he couldn’t be more help, and felix offers to bake you your favorite treat as consolation. you assure both of them that they shouldn’t feel bad–you accept felix’s baked goods, of course–but, try as you might, you can’t get rid of the slump in your shoulders. this book is supposed to be a big step towards your dream. this story is supposed to be your gateway to being the writer you were meant to be. you never expected it to go smoothly, but you have to admit that you wish something as easy as a fanfic trope would solve your problem.

as felix says goodnight, he smiles softly, “hey, y/n, don’t be too hard on yourself, okay? it’s frustrating, and it feels like there’s no way out, but you’re smart and capable and strong enough to see it through. plus, the universe will take care of it. someone will show up sooner rather than later, and you’ll have that story in no time!”

you smile, grateful for his neverending efforts to make you feel better, “thanks, sunshine. i’ll try to have the same kind of hope you have, despite everything.”

“despite everything,” he nods firmly before turning away to head back home himself.

you stare at the door, your place quiet, save the humming sound of your appliances, and you wonder how fate could have anything to offer you with such short notice.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

felix picks a few stray pieces of lint off your top and smiles proudly once your outfit is perfect. even though you’re feeling nervous, you can’t help but smile back at your friend’s beaming face.

“thank you again for coming with me to this, y/n. i don’t know if i could survive a whole company event without someone i like by my side.”

“don’t you have changbin? i’m sure he’d happily stay by your side all night.”

“i do,” felix agrees, “but he said he was bringing a plus-one, so i didn’t want to third wheel.”

“ah, how lovely it feels to be chosen as a preventative for third-wheeling,” you tease as felix opens the venue door for you.

“jisung isn’t the only one who can be romantic,” felix giggles and nudges your shoulder with his, helping to relax your nerves.

the venue is rather large, and there are more strangers here than you’d prefer. thankfully, you see changbin waving from a distance, so you know there won’t be any awkward small talk with felix’s other coworkers to get through. though they met through work, changbin and felix have been friends for years, thus making you a friend in changbin’s eyes. you take a couple of drinks from a waiter as changbin not-so-smoothly rushes his way towards you and felix, a tall person close behind him. as felix and changbin greet each other, you do a quick sweep over changbin’s plus-one. he’s well-dressed, probably the most fashionable one in the whole place, and frustratingly statuesque in appearance. his black hair frames his face and brushes his neck ever so slightly, and the only thing preventing him from looking dark and mysterious is the softness of his features, particularly his sweet brown eyes.

“y/n! this is hyunjin,” changbin grins, gesturing to the person beside him.

“hi y/n, it’s nice to meet you,” hyunjin smiles, voice lilting delicately.

you smile, unable to resist the naturally playful glint in his eye, “it’s nice to meet you too, hyunjin. how do you know changbin?”

“we met back in university,” hyunjin answers, “we lived together for the first two years.”

“best two years of my life!” changbin wraps an arm around hyunjin, and hyunjin laughs loudly.

“cute!” felix smiles, “so glad i get to finally meet you in person, hyunjin.”

“likewise,” hyunjin nods.

the conversation jumps around, mostly directed by changbin and felix telling anecdotes about the various coworkers that pass by. you and hyunjin laugh and ask questions, gasping at the drama and ridiculousness that pervades their workplace. eventually, felix asks what hyunjin does for work, and you’re surprised to learn that he’s a painter. or, rather, he works in design to pay the bills and paints in all of his free time, showing works wherever and whenever he can to build his reputation in the city.

“that’s so cool!” felix exclaims, and then points to you, “y/n is a writer. i’m sure you two could relate on a bunch of stuff since you’re both creative professionals.”

“what do you write?” hyunjin asks, looking at you intently as he takes a sip of his drink.

“fiction, mostly. i’ve taken plenty of different freelance gigs in the past that gave me experience writing all sorts of things, but i prefer writing short stories and novels.”

changbin lights up, “oh that’s right! congratulations are in order!”

you smile sheepishly, and explain, after hyunjin asks, that you just signed a ghostwriting book deal with a publishing company.

“that’s incredible! i know it couldn’t have been easy to secure that. i’d love to read some of your work since you’ve clearly got talent.”

“thank you, hyunjin, but i don’t know about that,” you laugh a little, “we’ll see if i have enough talent to write this book.”

hyunjin’s brow furrows, and felix responds, “they’re having some writer’s block. the prompt is a little…out of their wheelhouse. i have no doubt they’ll figure it out though!”

you pat felix’s shoulder lovingly, “yes, he believes that i’ll figure it out as soon as the universe sends me someone to fake date.”

changbin tilts his head in confusion, “is it a fake dating story?”

you swallow a sip of your drink and shake your head, “no, it’s supposed to be a ‘modern love story.’ full of angst and authenticity, and, most importantly, it’s supposed to be human enough to make us all believe it’s possible.”

hyunjin chuckles when you roll your eyes, which makes you blush a little as you realize he’s watching you so closely. 

“well, if you need someone to fake date,” changbin grins, “hyunjin would probably be a good fit.”

it’s time for you to tilt your head in confusion, “wait. hyunjin isn’t your boyfriend?”

hyunjin throws his head back and cackles while changbin giggles, “no, unfortunately we’re just friends. maybe one day i can break through, but five years down the line, i’m still getting rejected.”

“oh, stop pouting!” hyunjin smacks changbin’s shoulder, “you don’t actually want to date me.”

“and how would you know that?” changbin wiggles his eyebrows, “can’t a guy dream of dating someone like you?”

“it seems like you’re going to be dreaming for a long time, changbin. you might just not be their type,” felix teases.

their type? 

“anyway,” changbin says after his giggles die down, “hyunjin has been struggling with the theme for an exhibition they have coming up. maybe you two could help each other out!”

“what’s giving you writer’s–or, should i say, painter’s block?” you ask.

hyunjin chuckles, “the theme is ‘yearning.’ my friend, jeongin, is the gallery director and has been on a real angst kick these days after meeting someone special. not that i don’t have my fair share of yearning experiences, but i just can’t crack into something deep enough to create something that matters, you know?”

you sure did know, which is how you two spent almost the entire night discussing inspiration, love, heartache, creativity, longing, and everything else possible. eventually, felix and changbin leave you two alone to talk to their other coworkers, given that they couldn’t get a word in edge-wise with how passionately the two of you were talking. if you were honest, you hardly noticed they were gone. that’s just how captivating the conversation, and hyunjin, were. 

“ugh, it feels so good to talk to someone who gets it,” hyunjin sighs.

“i agree,” you smile, “it may not solve the problem, but it reduces the stress.”

“cheers to that!”

you and hyunjin clink your glasses together, and you reply, “also, sorry if i misgendered you when i assumed you were changbin’s boyfriend. totally my bad!”

hyunjin waves his hand in the air, “don’t worry about it! you weren’t exactly wrong. i use they/he pronouns, so technically i could be a boyfriend. just not changbin’s.”

you two laugh at this, and you’re relieved that you didn’t unintentionally get off on the wrong foot with someone who can relate to your current creative predicament so deeply.

“actually, speaking of boyfriends…” hyunjin trails off, waiting to get your full attention.

“what about them?”

“i’d be happy to be your fake one, if you really did want to try that out.”

“oh, you don’t have to do that,” you laugh a little, “that was an idea my friends brought up, but i didn’t take it seriously.”

hyunjin nods, “i see. well, even if it seems ridiculous, i think it could work. hell, i’d be down to try it too. i’m feeling pretty frustrated about this painting series, and maybe something out of pocket like a fanfic trope could do the trick.”

you observe them, trying to catch a sign that he’s joking, “really?”

“yeah,” they shrug, “what’s the harm? you’re a writer who needs inspiration, and i’m a painter who needs inspiration. instead of doing some dramatic spiritual artist retreat in the middle of nowhere, we take each other on some dates and explore the ideas of love and yearning together. sort of like a…group project!”

his eyes light up, and you can feel yourself getting won over already by their charm, “when do you have to finish your paintings?”

“i have to bring them to jeongin in three months.”

huh.

“that’s…well, that timing’s sort of perfect,” you admit, “my first manuscript is due in three months.”

hyunjin grins, “so it sounds like we might give this fake dating thing a try?”

you sigh, unsure of what you could be getting yourself into, “what would that even look like?”

hyunjin hums, putting their hand to their chin, deep in thought. you let a silence fall between you two, hoping one of you can come up with a good idea. your bet is on hyunjin, though, because you can’t begin to think through how a fake dating situation between two artists, two muses, should go.

hyunjin snaps his fingers, “i’ve got it! let’s say we just take each other on dates for the next three months. no expectations for the dates, no strict schedule, and no pressure to actually develop feelings or fall in love. we spend time together naturally, go through the experiences of getting to know someone, and we use that for our work. if, after a few weeks, it isn’t doing the trick, then we call it off. no harm, no foul. what do you say?”

maybe it was their enthusiasm. maybe you’re a sucker for a beautiful person with a creative mind. maybe you trust that someone who is good friends with sweetheart changbin could only have the best of intentions. maybe, just maybe, you trust what felix said the other day about the universe giving you what you need for this book to work out. whatever it is, something convinced you to stretch your hand out toward hyunjin.

hyunjin shakes your hand, and you smile, “no harm, no foul.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

tag list: @velvetmoonlght (<333 tysm)

[some-teeth-in-a-trench-coat]

3 things:

What's a song, band, album, or playlist you want to shout out?

What are your opinions on pets (dog, cat, neither, other)?

Finally, what's a boring fact about you?

Cheers, have a good one.

Oh yes!

Shoutout a band? SEEMING, SEEMING, SEEMING BABY! They're even on tumblr: @seemingmusic

Their music is great and the lyrics are freaking phenomenal poems and I have no idea why they're not among tumblr's favorites like? "The future will be borderless, and red and queer and bold, for I was born to make my kind extinct" (End Studies) "Dreamt of gutting billionaires... But when I woke, blood was gone" (Go Small) you've got the eat the rich be queer do crime philosophy all over it! "Like a tall tree, I am pining to be taken up by the lightning! Strike me! I dare you! I dare you! Heaven, hear me! Like a mantis, I am praying, out of habit, without saying anything, for the bloody sting of a kestrel come to snatch me" (Remember to Breathe) it's got puns it's got self destructive thoughts it's got vague religious implications which I'm not a fan of personally but you guys seem to love it when it's Hozier. And who can ignore "To the gunmen who guard against all of the starving: God will bury you, nature will bury you [...] To the terrified rich man: God will bury you. To the killers of animals: nature will bury you." (The Burial) like don't tell me that doesn't go hard. (Personally I like to think of The Burial as not a threat but a loving promise. It continues "To the worshipper of justice, the reliance on reason, and the fire in your eyes: God will bury you, nature will bury you, time will bury your bones unseen. Total and absolute. Infinite amplitude. Till all the black is ripe and green." and because honoring the dead and burying them is an important act of kindness, I like to think of this as a promise that no matter who you are, no matter who you leave behind to mourn you, you will be buried. You will die and you will return to the Earth and you will be lovingly welcomed, it is inevitable and inescapable, I promise. I know I already rambled about this when I reblogged that worm poem post but I will keep talking about it because I love it and I don't know how many people actually read it.) There's so much more I want to say but I'm on mobile in bed hours past bedtime and this paragraph is probably already way too long and disorganized so like maybe tomorrow but! Regardless of whether you can listen to the music I highly recommend reading some of the lyrics here: https://seemingmusic.tumblr.com/text

Anyway moving on from minor infodump, I'm not entirely sure what you mean by your second question like are you asking my opinion on pets as a concept or my preferences for having pets or? I think humans love to pack bond with things that are not humans and as long as the human is able to meet the needs of an animal to create a mutually beneficial relationship that's a good thing, but ideally you should opt for domesticated animals (animals that have been our companions for so long they are genetically distinct from their wild counterparts) since they are best adapted to living with humans. I was practically raised by cats living with my workaholic single mom and our cats so personally I love cats and probably have a better time connecting with them than I would other common pets like dogs. Currently mom and I are sharing two cats, brothers, but one rarely visits me while the other is obsessed with me but I suspect this is because a) I always have his favorite snack available (potato chips. yeah I don't think he knows he's a cat) and b) I pet him the way he likes best (which is a lot of rubbing and scratching his spine by the tail intermittent with chin scritches, but he wants you to be firm with it as though he were a dog... again this man is not aware he's a cat).

A boring fact about me... Well easy mode is just "I have two feet" or "I ate a sandwich for breakfast today" but let me try to think of something a bit more personal yet still uninteresting... I have watched less than one episode of Supernatural. Yeah that's boring yet specific.

Thank you so much for the ask sorry my reply is a little messy I was already in bed when I got this!

[the-whale-institute]

Tag Game

15 questions, 15 tags

tagged by @snoozy-red-panda. Doing this a million years late bc I couldn’t figure out how to copy-paste on tumblr mobile and I’m never on my computer

Nickname: Never had one

Height: 6′0-6′1 depending on which scoliosed leg I’m on

Last thing I googled: hours of one of the Chinese food places near me

Song stuck in my head: Love Me More by Mitski

# followers: 59

Amount of sleep: almost 8 hours from last night but it’s bedtime now

Dream job:

Wearing: old black sweatpants and a gay T-shirt my dad got me

Book/movie that summarizes you: this is a real heavy question lol. On a surface level, I did read Juliet Takes A Breath by Gabby Rivera and that protagonist was like a checklist of my life

Fav song: At the moment? Probably “The News” by Paramore. Because it’s a mood

Aesthetic: Whatever the hell Neverending Fall and Ginger Root have going on. Femme-Man from the 1970s?

Fav authors: Always a Neil Gaiman fan. Haven’t gotten to reach much lately though. Next book on my list is The Buried Giant by Kazuo Ishiguro. Apparently Guillermo Del Toro’s going to be doing an adaptation soon? It’s been sitting on my shelf waiting for a year so now I have to pick up the pace lol

Random fact: I name all my social media after aquatic critters because I think they have good vibes

i tag: @catboyloki @hellchilde​ @spellbird​ @twilight-alchemist​ @princeboop​ @montierrado​ @sleepsfor100years​ and tumblr’s not letting me see my mutuals so i’m just gonna stop there for now. feel free to ignore or do for fun even if i didn’t tag you :)

[lightasthesun]

raise your hand if you have random fic ideas throughout the day and never know where to put them because it's definitely not going on paper, digital or not.

[broken-freedom]

• Hidden surprises pt2 •

Word count: 2K

TW: Nude pictures. Phone sex. Mutual masturbation.

You can read part 1 here

It has been 12 days since you paid your farewell to Eren and caught him jerking off to your lacy panties hours later when he got to his hotel room on the other side of the country. During these days, you made sure to grant Eren’s wish by sending him a lot of pictures and videos of the girls. Some of it with them playing in the playground, others of them making fruit sorbet and making a mess all over themselves and their clothes, and other ones where they are watching a prerecorded video of Eren himself reading a bedtime story for them for the nights that he couldn’t do it because of his flight schedule. It became a routine and a method of bonding for Eren to watch the pictures and videos of his girls and you together, and respond to them by sending pictures of him throughout the day. Bed hair picture first thing in the morning, a picture of him washing his teeth with his eyes wide open, and pilot hat on picture with him grinning and pointing at the airplane during preflight checkups. You get so many pictures of Eren every day all day regardless of what he is doing and you make sure to show them to the girls and tell them what their daddy is currently doing.

After you hung up another video call with Eren after he told a bedtime story to your daughters, and tucked them in so they can sleep, you get to your room exhausted from your long day and ready for a hot tub me-time with your book at one hand and a glass of wine on the other. You can normally read romance fiction without being affected, it never bothered you and you found it quite interesting how you can separate your own feelings and needs from what you are reading. But with your husband being away for the past 12 days, the book in your hand started to make you feel things. Things you do not normally feel unless your skin was being worshiped by Eren’s long slim fingers. You close your eyes remembering his touches on your skin, very slow but with purpose. Eren usually teases, and teases a lot making you whine and desperately begging for more. The way his hot breath would stroke your lips and his eyes would pour affection into yours tingles all of your senses. You drop the book by the bathtub side feeling your body warming up. You can see your flushed face reflecting on the mirror in front of your bathtub. Eren knew what he was doing by hanging a mirror in there. It was getting hotter and steamier inside the bathroom. Was it you? Because of the scene you just read? Or was it the water being extra warm today? The way you clenched your walls around nothing answered you not even seconds afterwards. You definitely miss Eren and his too good to be true dick. The hand that was not holding the wine glass slipped inside the water and cupped your breast trying to remember how Eren used to massage it for you, but you let it go just as quickly as you grabbed it, sighing in defeat. You stand up to drain the tub and turn on the cold water in the shower and step inside trying your best to gain composure ignoring the way your cunt is screaming at you begging for attention. 

After you wrap the towel around your body and head out to the room, you hear a notification ping. “Must be something silly Eren sent for the girls” You thought. But oh how wrong you are. This is definitely not what you expected and definitely not for the girls. You click open the sent message reading “why are you doing this to me?” and when you see the attached picture you understand what he means. He is cupping his erection through his sweatpants just to show you what that polaroid is doing to him, how hard it made him. You blink twice, feeling that heat pooling again in your core because of the very clear print. He is hard, but also hundreds of miles away from your reach. You rush to type a response to him:

You: Oh?

Cockpit ❤️ : I found the picture you hid in my sweatpants. Sent image 

You: Glad you like it ;) 

You look at the nude polaroid of yourself you hid inside the folded sweatpants when you packed his suitcase before his trip. You still cannot process how you were able to take such a picture. But actually, you took several ones like this and kept them safe and away from the curious eyes that live with you. In the picture you were sitting down on your bed with your knees folded underneath you with your back to the camera, hair swept to your side exposing your bare back with you looking back at the camera over your shoulder with nothing on but the tiny pearled thong that shone under the sunlight. You like this picture quite a lot. The angle was just right and you were dying to show it, or send it, to Eren, and the timing could not be any better with him traveling to hide it in between his clothes.

When you go silent for more than a minute you are surprised with a video call. You see Eren’s face glowing under the faint light of his phone displayed on the screen when you hit the green button, and you can already see that he is shirtless. “I love it, baby” Eren tells you with a husky voice and a smirk on his face, his eyes widening soon after he sees you wearing nothing but a towel hugging your body low enough to expose enough cleavage for Eren’s eyes to enjoy. “Only a towel, hmm? You are just making this situation worse” You giggle and purposely squish your tits, popping them even more, making Eren inhale sharply. “This is torture baby” He started staring at you in admiration through the screen. “I have been thinking about you every night. And these little surprises you hid in between my things aren't exactly helping.” He pulls the polaroid to the camera where you can see it again. “I have been thinking about you too Ren, every night” your voice comes out trembling when you suddenly recall what you were about to do not too long ago. You know what Eren’s situation is like, you know how YOU need him just as much, and you feel courged. You stand up and move to the dresser and prop your phone upwards by the mirror and take a step back. Eren looks at you all confused through the screen and his jaw drops the moment your towel hits the ground “Baby! W- what are you doing?” He attentively watches as you sit on the dresser’s chair and start to slowly spread your legs, pupils fully blown, lips parted, and breath hitched in his throat. “It has been 12 days, that’s 12 days too long Ren, I need you.” Your hands start moving like they have their own brain, one of them cupping your tit and capturing the hardening nipple in between, while the other one trails down your navel and settling in between your legs. 

You feel heat spreading in two opposite directions one covering your cheeks and ears in a bright shade of red, and the other spreading through your center signaling you to keep going when you involuntarily let out a tiny moan. Eren wants to tease, wants to make you even more embarrassed, wants to encourage you to show him more, but he is just as desperate. He props his back on the headstand of his hotel bed, one hand holding the phone while the other lazily stroking his erection through his sweats. Suddenly he pushes the sweats down to his mid thighs freeing his cocking and grasping it in between rough long fingers.. When you start to rub circles on your clit, Eren moves the screen to give you a better angle of his hand stroking his dick to the same rhythm you are maintaining. You get up and move to get the phone and lay down on your back on the bed propping the phone on a pillow in front of you while you have your legs wide open for Eren to see your movements and go back to rubbing circles. You two watch each other silently, your eyes lock for a brief moment then go back to watch each other’s movements , not knowing what to even say as this was a time of need of action and not words. You are surprised when you hear him gently telling you to insert one finger inside of your cunt, and you comply with a simple nod. You slowly rub your middle finger up and down your folds covering it with your slick then insert it inside your cunt. Your moans start to get louder when you push another one and start moving them in and out of your cunt. “Fuck, baby you look so pretty all spread out for me.” You can see the way his cock twitches in his hand, and he can see the way your cunt is swallowing your fingers knowing that the both of you are close to your release. 12 days of wanting each other, needing each other, wishing you can touch him and feel his touches. You try to move your other hand around your body the way Eren does worshiping every little detail engraved in your body. The movements of your fingers in and out of your cunt are getting more intense, filling the room with wet noises “I wish you were here Ren, I need you to touch me.” you speak to the phone, the only thing that is connecting the both of you at the moment, and what pushes you over the edge is not the aggressive movement of your two fingers on your cunt, nor the nipple pinching your other hand is performing, but the way Eren’s eyes are trained on your cunt. His hungry eyes not leaving your wet pussy for a second, not even when he fists his cock faster, thumb gliding over the head every few strokes, and when he seductively tells you to cum for him, you let go, releasing all that built up frustration with your orgasm moaning his name loudly. You can’t relax just yet, and spread your folds apart for Eren’s eyes to see the mess you just made, your white juices dripping from your pussy and into the sheets underneath was more than enough for him to start shooting ropes of white on his abs and hand with him cursing under his breath. His strokes slow down until they come to a stop. “That was hot, we should do this more often.” Eren speaks into the silence of both rooms and you just look at the screen still feeling hazy because of the aftermath of your orgasm and you smile at him “yea we should”.

You squeeze your eyes trying to open them up. Looking at the digital clock on your nightstand you see that it is 11 am. Your eyes widen in horror not believing you overslept and the girls are probably up for at least 3 hours by themselves. When you try to shoot up, you feel something heavy holding you by the waist. “Eren!” you practically scream when you see his arm pulling you closer to his chest. “Hi baby” You feel him spreading kisses on your bare shoulder except for the thin strap of your nightgown. “The girls!” you exclaim for the second time. “I dropped them by mom’s house when I got here earlier this morning. We have the whole house to ourselves ” He shuffles until he is hovering over you and pressing your back to the bed leaning down to capture your lips in deep kiss. When he breaks the kiss lifting his head to look at you with his beautiful eyes, your hands come up to lace through his soft hair “I missed you so much Ren, but aren’t you supposed to work for two more days?” His lips form a gentle smile and he rubs his nose against yours when he speaks the words that have your head spinning “You told me you wish I was there next to you, so I came” … 

[sitp-recs]

Hidden Gems by @violetclarity 

Violetclarity is another incredibly talented and underrated writer that should get more love and appreciation. Interestingly enough, I stumbled upon her Pansmione magnum opus first, and was utterly obsessed with it. That fic is actually responsible for pulling me into this ship when I started the blog in 2020, and I still remember screaming at @teacup-tai about how brilliant it was. I found her excellent Drarry works soon after and fell even more in love with her writing; those sensitive and feel-good love tales make for perfect bedtime reads and I especially appreciate “strengthen to stay” for promoting body positivity 💜 I found her Ginsy fics more recently and was once again completely blown away by her A+ femslash content - these are long-ish fics with interesting plots, top notch angst and a fascinating take on the characters, the levels of UST and emotional development are addictive! Here’s a short selection of my personal favourites, I had a blast reading each one of these and I highly recommend checking Violetclarity’s full catalogue here. Happy readings!

Drarry

Christmas Eve and the Kisses Four (2018, E, 5.3k) - sweet friends to lovers get together with cheeky meddling kids (I love Scorpius!), domesticity and family Christmas feels.

Draco was determined to ignore Harry and have a good time at this Christmas Eve party, but with enchanted mistletoe in the mix, that was easier said than done.

Proper (2018, E, 8.7k) - a lovely 8th year secret relationship exploring their first time with enthusiastic consent, some awkward fumbling and unexpected feelings.

Draco sighs. “What kind of absolute twit has the chance to have sex with the Chosen One and can’t go through with it?"

In which Draco studies with Gryffindors, learns a new spell, and navigates the difficulty of being in a not-so-casual secret relationship with his childhood nemesis.

the strength to stay (2018, E, 29k) - my personal favourite! Auror partners, case fic, enemies to lovers with chubby Draco, mild angst, body image issues, very sweet happy ending 💜

Draco and Harry are the best Senior Aurors in the DMLE, which is why they’re working the case about Wings – a dangerous new potion that sends users into a dreamscape from which they may never return. When Harry is kidnapped by the group behind Wings, Draco takes it upon himself to go after him, and is forced to confront the reality of Harry’s feelings for him, which he’s been ignoring for years. Read my rec here.

Rare pairs

Private Relations (2018, E, 10k) - delicious Ginsy with Quidditch player soft butch Gin and badass PR Pansy, fwb to lovers, enthusiastic consent and background Drarry as a treat 👌🏼

Pansy Parkinson is the Harpies’ new PR person. Ginny Weasley is not impressed. // A tale of friendship, flirtation, and fancy dress parties.

Single and Snacking in Phoenix, AZ and art by keyflight790 (2019, E, 25k) - brilliant fwb + fake relationship Ginsy 🙌 oblivious Ginny, background Harry/Luna, some Harry and Draco bashing cause we love to hate them

When she told her friends she was bringing a date to Harry and Luna’s wedding, Ginny had only wanted them to stop bothering her about her love life. Now she’s facing an entire weekend of pretending that Pansy Parkinson, her casual hook-up, is actually her girlfriend. What could possibly go wrong?

Pansy, Rows, and Mutual Wanking (2020, E, 27k) - hands down my favorite Pansmione fic, such a great and emotionally rewarding journey! Hogwarts 8th year, they were roommates, enemies to lovers, pining Pansy, internalized homophobia & coming out (Hermione), party games, lots of sexual discovery, happy ending!

Eighth year. Hermione's ready. She's going to study, have fun with her friends, and ignore her new roommate's obnoxious wanking habits. And alright, maybe she wouldn't be so annoyed with it if she'd had any good sex in the past. But that doesn't mean she wants Pansy Parkinson to teach her how to wank...does it? Read my rec here.

[dienamights]

Ellipsism | K.Bakugou

Ellipsism: A sadness that you’ll never be able to know how history will turn out.

» Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

» Word count: 1.9K

» Genre: Angst 

» Summary: In a world where everyone is born with a unique tattoo on their ankle, and every time they fall in love with someone, their tattoo appears somewhere else on the body of the person they love. You come to the realization that it might not be as simple as that, and all your childhood dreams would come and bite you in the ass.

» Warning(s): ANGST, mentions of self-harm.

» Author’s notes: Listen, I don’t particularly like angst, but I love the way it hurts, y’know? Not sure if I want this to have a happy ending or not (in a second part) and honestly I’m leaning towards the latter, I love pain and I have no idea what would happen. Also, peep the “tattoo” in the header its relevant to the story ahaha

Thank you everyone for the support and love, it means the world to me that people enjoyed my Kacchan representation! Lemme give you smooches.

Big smooches to @tteokdoroki and @sightoru for making me feel good about hurting them🤧❤️

» Masterlist | Requests

The sun had awakened and was promptly emerging through the hazy sky. The cloudy layer created a gloomy blanket from the sun. You jolted awake, your neck aching from your sleeping position and you twisted your head side to side to relieve some of the pain, before reaching for your phone and holding the bright screen to your face to check the time. Alas, the screen was turned off without registering the time nor how long were you asleep for.

You lifted your eyes to see the grey out the window in front of you. With that fog, the trees and buildings never ended, they floated upwards, seemingly as endless as beanstalks. Reaching your head back, it met the wooden counter. You were in the kitchen, fell asleep on the floor and slumped against the counters, the empty bottle laying across from you a reminder of the event that transpired the previous night - maybe morning? You didn't really know.

You lazily extended your legs in front of you, eyeing your sock-clad feet and the tattoo that peaked from the clothing. Blooming lilacs that danced and branched out, the stem wrapping around your ankle oh so loosely, almost teasingly. Lilacs that represented happiness and tranquility, which you have never felt more far from. 

Remembering the old days, the better days, you with your poofy dress, so blindingly pink it demanded everyone's attention, giggling with your friends that adorned similar attire to yours, showing each other the tattoos that hugged your ankles, in endless shapes and sizes, dreaming about who the lucky person you’ll share your tattoo with would be, who was lucky enough to capture your heart and claim it as their own, and offering theirs in return.

Bedtime stories were your favorite quality time with your mother, where you’d both forget about the story cradled in her hands and you’d spend your night tracing the few tattoos that scattered across her arms. Asking her how could she love so many people and have them love her in return before loving her husband - your father - the only person she was meant to be with, only to wait with bated breath for an answer you already heard so many times you probably memorized it by now. You’d be entranced at the way her eyes always softened, a light gleaming in them as she would explain to you, again and again, with no sign of ever getting bored, how she have never and would never regret the people she loved, because in some twisted way of the universe, it led her to the father of her beautiful child, that snuggled her in her princess bed. 

Alas, asking her how you came to the world received a totally different reaction, and you refrained from asking her that again until later on in life.

Whenever your grandma visited, you’d run to hug her old and withered body, apologizing when she would howl about her aching back and dragging her to sit with the excuse to help her rest, but you both knew you wanted to hear stories, your teenage self was so ready to fall in love, so excited to have a piece of someone you adored with all your heart decorating your skin, inking it in the most beautiful forms of promise.

She always made her past lovers sound like prince charmings right out of a novel, the kind of guys with the power and confidence that seemed perfect in every way. The kind of guys schoolgirls woke up and went to school for in the morning. The kind of guys that hit women of all ages right between the eyes every time they were seen and stirred up their fantasies.

And by God, did you not realize that your grandmother wasn't spewing bullshit after all these years, because there he was, a storm in each step he took, fire in his knuckles erupting and seething with fierceness. He was an explosion of bare, raw, real mystery. A soft caress of the wind, warm sand, and pure silence. He was colors and textures and shapes and designs, all combined together in an artistic canvas that thrived for attention but wouldn't stoop to admitting it. 

You remembered the day your lilacs embellished his shoulder, shyly peeking through his hero suit, claiming everyone’s attention on their petals as they swayed on his skin, the attention of the media as the shoulder of the hero, Dynamight, was showcased on social media, people envying whoever was able to capture the exploding hero’s heart.

As if he wasn’t capable of love, they didn't see what you saw, they will never have the privilege, because when he dropped the façade of the hero, he’d come home to you, knock on your apartment door and you’d flee to open it to him to lay your eyes on him, a tired laugh, sore muscles, a teasing glint in crimson eyes, golden hair tasseled after a sleepless night. He was secure embraces oozing with warmth. He was toughness and hardness, perfectly mixed in with trust and care.

It was at that day it happened, in the middle of the living room while the newsman was talking nonsense about the hero, the warmth wrapped around your wrist, gripping it like a vice with no intention of letting go; yes it burned, you remembered the sting, it just paled in comparison to the warmth in your chest, the warmth of the tears escaping your eyes as you held your wrist close to your chest, happily whispering about how this was what love felt like. You also recalled that it was at that exact moment the hero, your hero, walked into your apartment, dropping everything and running the small distance to your hunched body to grab at your wrist to inspect the damage he thought was done to it.

Only for his eyes to meet that one wretched inking he loathed all his life, the - meaningless doodles, he’d call them - that blemished his skin, he remembered the remarks, how no one would be able to share that blotch of his with him because who could ever love him? Who could ever endure him, with all of that ego and all of that anger? And as time passed, he believed it, he believed them, that he wasn’t worthy to be loved, that he was only meant to save, not be saved as well, not even from himself.

But there you were, there you fucking were, crying and laughing and struggling to breath as you repeated the words you’ve been dying to confess, 

“I love you, Katsuki.”

Suddenly, that speckle that was always hidden under his socks brought him happiness, brought him love, and damn did he deserve it, because he fought for it, he endured hell for it, and there you were, wrapped around his arm and repeating those three words against his lips between heated kisses.

He was pleasure and lust. Rough groans and mutual needs. A burning touch. Your name hanging by his lips, breathless kisses and hair-tugging and hot flesh against hot flesh.

He was an illusion you thought it'll never materialize, and yet here he was. 

Here he was, all highs and lows, smiles and frowns, softness and roughness, carefulness and danger. Here he was, a tiny spark of thunder, sparkling with passion, loyalty and dedication, protection, satisfaction, confidence and love.

Here he was…

Where was he?

The inking you used to spend hours admiring now haunts you, the design that used to whirl and twirl across your wrist as you hummed while tracing it now felt like shackles, squeezing so tight against you as you tried to break free. The black almost shrouded by the coats of metallic red that spilled from your attempts of escape. The dark crimson that matches his eyes, the eyes you know you won't forget, you know you don't want to forget, no matter how you’ll feel better if you do.

The girl staring right at you through the distorted reflection created by the dishwasher judged you, all mangled and blurry, yet the tear stains and numb eyes are hard to ignore, easily cutting through the deformed reflection.

You and the girl in front of you envied your friend, the aromantic that was never interested to fall in love, only possessing their own tattoo that graced their ankle, with no one else's accompanying it, sure it looked lonely on some days, but who were you to judge?

You remembered what they always told you, that it wasn't always the fairy tales your family fed you. They told you about their mother, who had an affair and fell in love, spending almost a year hiding the tattoo of her fling from her husband before being caught, they told you how their father was broken beyond repair, he who also was so drunk on the idea of falling in love and being loved in return, just like you were for all those years. They told you of the heart break that you might have to face when your partner’s inking is embedded into you, but not the other way around, how you had to decide whether to wait for your own personal design to mark its location onto them or leave, always being haunted by the part of them that you can't get rid of, no matter what you do.

They never told you about this kind of heartbreak though, the one where you’re both so in love, so happy, destined to be together forever, because what could possibly go wrong?

You never got the answer to that, you remembered asking him as he dragged his suitcase out of the apartment, the tears cascading down his face never answered you as he apologized again and again, mumbled how you deserved to be loved by someone that wasn’t him, babbled about him not deserving you. About how he won’t ever love someone besides you when he caught your eye scanning whatever was visible of his arms, in fear of finding out a piece of someone that wasn't yourself.

You finally got up, legs numb and steps wobbly from sitting on the floor for so long, you eyed the door, still unlocked after his leave a couple of hours ago - maybe more it's still unclear - no urge of yours strong enough to get you up to lock it again. You moved slowly, as if the shuffle of your feet is causing you pain, and in a way, it did, because you know when you reach the living room couch, there won't be the warm arms that engulfed you, because what else did you have other than the warmth you surrounded yourself with when you told him to hold you close to him?

That's right, nothing. 

As you laid down on the couch and allowed yourself to be suffocated by the scent of caramel, you cursed at all the fantasies and dreams that clouded your mind day and night, you frowned and scrunched your nose at the scent that used to mean love and warmth, but now only burnt your nose and teared up your eyes.

A constant reminder, just like the defaced wrist you brought closer to inspect and hissing when the cold air bit at it. You recalled the lilacs and swore at them, the same lilacs that symbolized love and passion, but looking more withered and torn the more you looked at them.

Good, guess they know how I feel.

Borrowers (taglist):

if you want to be tagged with for any of my fics let me know ♡

[yandere-ac]

The 24th of December

Cw: yandere, kidnapping, obsessive behaviour, implied murder

Ding dong, ding dong

The sounds of the island bell tune rang through the air as the clock struck 6 pm. You were out on a small stroll around the island, trying to calm your nerves as anxiety and tension festered in your stomach. Soon it was time, time for you to go home and get ready. Get ready for what? The dinner with the Nook family. Mr Tom Nook himself had invited you to celebrate toy day with him and his boys. Now this wouldn’t have been a problem a couple of months ago, you had been to their house multiple times and had eaten dinner with them as well. It wasn’t unexpected since you and Tom had an unspoken thing going on. Tom was a little old fashioned when it came to labels, he didn’t need to put any label on most of the factors in his life. His sexuality? Who cares, he's attracted to whoever he’s attracted to. His relationship to Timmy and Tommy? If they wanted to see him as a mentor then that’s fine, if they wanted to see him as a dad then that’s also fine. His relationship with you? Partners, soulmates, whatever you wanted to call it. He didn’t really care too much, he just knew what was there was real, and it very much was not just platonic. None of you had really acknowledged it, it all started as mutual admiration and trust from both sides, as any good relationship should. You watered it down to you wanting comfort and encouragement in your life, which Tom was very good at providing. But then it slowly turned into a sort of attraction, attraction that you were not ready to face. So you ignored it. But then came turkey day. You, just like toy day, were invited to eat dinner with Tom, Timmy and Tommy. And you did, and you had so much fun. The four of you ate food, watched movies, played games, and at the end of the day, after Tom put Timmy and Tommy to bed, you and him hung out together. You two just sat and talked while, admittedly, having a couple of glasses of wine. But that didn't matter, what mattered was what you said during your little chat. Tom had started talking about him and Redds past relationship. Which hadn't been new, Tom had talked about him before, mainly about how horrible he was and how he had hurt him, so this isn't exactly new territory for you. And yet, everytime you heard Tom speak about Redd, you still felt just as angry. Redd had no right treating Tom the way he did. The way he scammed poor Tom as if he was nothing more than a gullible fool, it made your blood boil. Tom deserved to be treated like the wonderful person he was, he deserved someone that loved and cared about him, someone like… You might have gotten a bit too overzealous as you told Tom what a bastard the fox was and how he deserved better. And you might have slipped up and accidentally told him something you probably shouldn't have.

You don't remember much from that evening, maybe because of the alcohol, maybe because of repression. You only remembered small glimpses here and there, some laughter, some crying, at one point you swore you two watched a movie. But beyond that, nothing, nothing but darkness. You had woken up that morning next to Tom, quite literally. It had seemed you two slept in the same bed, his bed. And it would appear that he might have clung onto you during the night because as you woke up, Tom had his arms wrapped around you. You had tried to get up carefully, not wanting to wake him up. But when you did so, Tom pulled you back down rather aggressively. And so, you just laid there for about 20 minutes before Tom finally got up.

Ever since Turkey day, Tom's behavior had started getting weirder and weirder. Anytime you entered the residential service he would stare at you with the same eerie smile as if he was a bear staring at an injured little rabbit. It made you increasingly more uncomfortable, the only reason you felt a little better was the fact that Isabelle was there with you. You remembered one time when you were discussing a resident that had been bothering you with Isabelle. Jacques, the blue bird that simply would not leave you alone. He’d been the cause of much of your disturbance and stress during the upcoming holidays. But during your conversation, you felt a pair of eyes practically drilling themselves into your perimeter. You looked over to Tom only to see he was, like usual, staring at you two. But his gaze seemed more out of it, almost unfocused, and yet, there seemed to be spite in his eyes. As soon as he noticed that YOU noticed him he immediately looked away for a few seconds before rising out of his seat and walking towards you and Isabelle.

"Hi Tom, how’s it going?" You greeted him, giving your construction consultant a half-baked smile. He smiled in return, face going from a slight frown into more of a tired smile. "I’m doing quite alright Y/N. I apologize for intervening but it would appear that O’hare is still bothering you?" Tom said as he gave you a pondering look. "Well... no. He hadn’t really been respectful of my boundaries or left me alone even when I and Isabelle have told him off several times." You told the tanuki, you could see his tail twitch slightly as you told him this. "Ah, I see. Well, I’m terribly sorry to hear that. Maybe it’s my time to step in then? No offense to your methods or anything Isabelle, but they don’t seem to be working. I know you don’t want me to intervene but I feel like I need to do something if it’s getting this bad." Tom said, turning to his coworker and giving her a look of sympathy. He knew Isabelle struggled with her appearance since not a lot of people took her as seriously as they should be, but he couldn’t just stand back while he watched you get harassed by this bird. Isabelle let out a small sigh and a slight frown. "I suppose you're right about that Tom. I think you would be a little bit more effective than I am." She looked back at you. "I’m sorry we let this get so out of hand Y/N." Before you could respond, Tom jumped in and said something, something that might not have meant to sound as hostile as it did, but nevertheless still did. "It’s simply unacceptable." Something about the way he said it, the way his eyes trailed off, the way his eyes narrowed. The initial phrase might not have been so bad, but the way he said it, it sent shivers up your spine, which Tom immediately reacted to. "Hmm? Are you cold Y/N? Or sick?" His eyes turned from minacious to gentle like a light switch being turned on. "N-No no! It’s fine. Just a random shiver. Don’t worry Tom." You said with a smile. A genuine smile. Even if Tom could be a little obstinate and overprotective, you knew it came from a good place. He cared for you, and you appreciated that. "Nonsense, if you’re feeling under the weather then you should go home Y/N dear." Tom insisted as he stroked your arm gently. You knew there was no fighting him once he made his mind up, guess you’re sick now.

That evening when you left the residential services you could feel Tom staring at you through his window as you left. You knew he meant well but sometimes he could be a little overwhelming. You just hoped he didn’t do anything to harsh with Jacques

You let out a deep sigh, a cloud of fog exiting your mouth as you did so. Cold air filled your lungs as you took yet another breath in. It was almost time, you should probably head home. As you walked across the shoreline of the island, on your way to your house, you felt a clump form in your stomach. You felt strange, almost uneasy. You didn’t want to say that you felt anxious about the dinner, but that was probably the closest expression that would describe how you felt. You knew it wouldn’t be a problem at first. Timmy and Tommy would be present until it was their bedtime, it was after that bedtime that you were worried about. You hadn’t been alone with Tom since Turkey day, and you were worried about what would happen once you were. But at the same time, you needed to talk to him, a talk which could not happen if anyone else was present during the conversation. Your thoughts came to a close as you neared your house. It didn’t matter if you felt weird about the whole thing, you needed to talk to him. And this might be the only chance to do so.

You took a deep breath, building yourself up to do such a simple task as knocking on a door. It was time. Ignoring all the feelings brewing up in your stomach and head you took one last breath, mist once more flowing out as you did so. And then, you knocked. It only took a couple of seconds before the door practically threw itself up to reveal two small, and very excited, tanukis.

"Y/N!...ʸ/ᴺᵎ" The two boys shouted. They were wearing matching christmas sweaters and Santa hats that were way too big for them. Timmy having a red sweater with the words naughty on it and Tommy having a green one with the words nice on it. Timmy grabbed ahold of your hand with his small paw and pulled you inside, all while Tommy enthusiastically bounced up and down. As you were pulled inside an immediate warmth embraced your body, like a thick blanket on a rainy night. Even so, a more prominent scent engulfed you, the aroma of fresh food was almost overbearing as you walked in. "Ohoho. Do my ears deceive me or is that our dear island representative?" You heard Toms voice all the way from the kitchen. You couldn’t help but smile as you could practically hear the grin present on his face. Tommy let out a small giggle as he ran up to the kitchen. "Don’t know! Guess you’ll have to come see for yourself!" You took off your jacket and beanie as Timmy led you over to the couch. But rather than sitting down in it, he sat you down on the big fluffy carpet next to the chimney and the big Christmas tree. Underneath it laid almost a dozen presents, seems like the constant debt that Tom was handing out finally seemed to pay off. Dumb pun aside, you felt yourself smile as you saw the sight before you. Tommy was now pulling Tom out from the kitchen and into the living room. He was wearing a Santa hat and a red christmas sweater that said "worlds best santa". As he and Tommy walked up to you and sat down next to you and Timmy, you crossed your arms and cocked your eyebrows. "I wasn’t informed that this was going to be a sweater party. Could have warned me about that, now I just feel underdressed." Tom chuckled slightly at this as he took off his hat and tossed it to you. "Here you go. Put that on, yes yes."

For the rest of that evening, you and the nooks ate the food that Tom had cooked up, all of which was absolutely delicious. Joking around as the time passed, and you felt more and more comfortable as time went on. So much to the point where you didn’t know why you felt anxious before. Finally, at 8 pm, you all gathered once more around the Christmas tree. Timmy and Tommy started unwrapping their presents in glee, most of which were from Tom, some of them were from Isabelle and Blathers, and some of them from you. Every once in a while, you and Tom would open some presents. Timmy and Tommy had given you a drawing of you and them together, which was certainly a cute gesture. You had brought the two into a big hug after that one. The boys had given Tom a mug that said "#1 dad", which almost brought the tanuki to tears. You had given Tom a custom sweater vest, just like the one he had back in the day

And still, Tom's present was something that you hadn’t quite expected. You had picked up the box which was neatly wrapped with red wrapping paper and some yellow glittery ribbons. "Ooh, what could this be? Is it a puppy?" You joked as you smirked at Tom. He let out a small laugh. "No, not quite, but be careful when unwrapping. I do hope you enjoy it, the boys helped me pick it out." Now you were intrigued. You carefully unwrapped the box and opened its lid only to see... "oh my god..." there, in the box, laid a crown. The one you had seen in the Ables shop plenty of times, the one that you had ranted about to Tom, about how you couldn’t afford it but wanted it so badly. That crown was laying before you, in your hands. "I... I’m... I-I don’t know... what to say I-'' you looked at Tom, his eyes were full of adoration and love, pure unfiltered love. And that frightened you. "Thank you Tom. Thank you." You tried putting on a smile, but it was hard as that huge clump of anxiety started to build up again. "Oh the pleasures all mine, Y/N my dear." Tom said to you as he tilted his head and gave you a gentle smile. Timmy and Tommy had started to giggle as they looked at each other, thinking the exact same thing. Everyone in the room knew what was going on, but only one person, you, knew what was truly going on.

The gift unwrapping continued. Now it was just Timmy and Tommy left that had gifts. They kept going, tearing into the gifts like hungry predators biting into their terrified prey, like... like... you lost your train of thought as you looked over at Tom. His eyes were focused on Timmy and Tommy, carefully watching their reactions to their gifts. But ever so often, Tom would look over at you, and if your eyes ever met, he would smile at you. Maybe he did it to calm you down but it sure didn’t help, not even in the slightest.

Soon, Timmy and Tommy had successfully opened all of their presents and had now shifted to playing with any of the toys they got. But that didn’t last long as Timmy let out a huge yawn and Tommy almost slumped over. Oh no. “Well, looks like it’s time for you two to go to bed, hm?” Tom said as he moved closer to the boys, taking the two in each hand. “N... noo... we’re not...” Tommy couldn’t even finish as he was interrupted by a huge yawn. “No, you’re done. Come on now.” And so, Tom led the two small tanukis up the stairs and into their bedroom. “Goodnight.” You called out to them before returning to your own state of panic. This was it. You were gonna be completely alone with Tom.

“Now then, terribly sorry about that Y/N.” Tom said as he came down the stairs. You tried to calm down but it ultimately failed. Tom was very observant, so it didn’t take long for him to see that something was wrong. “Y/N? Are you alright dear? You look a little pale.” He said as he sat down next to you. “....Tom I.... the crown, it really wasn’t necessary.” You managed to get your first concern out. You looked down in the box once more, you just couldn’t believe he would actually give you something like that. “Tsk, Y/N please. I tell you what, it was nothing really. And when I say that I’m not just being humble. It really is nothing, I assure you. I could buy five of those for you if I wanted to. So please, don’t feel guilty.” You knew he meant to say that as a way to comfort you, but that only made you feel worse. “Y-Yes I understand that it’s not a lot to you but, for me, it’s very much a lot. I know you mean well Tom but really, I just don’t know if I can accept this. I mean, it’s just too expensi-'' Tom interrupted you as he placed a hand on your cheek. You froze up as you looked into his big blue eyes. They were so calm, so gentle, so utterly terrifying. “Trust me my darling, nothing is too expensive when it comes to you.” As he told you this, he leaned in and planted a small peck on your lips. You felt your face turn pink as he let out a chuckle, still holding onto your face. “I’m happy I got to celebrate toy day with you Y/N, my sweet sweet Y/N.” Before you could respond, you felt yourself being picked up bridal style and carried away. Tom carried you to his room, it would seem like he wanted to sleep together again. Which wouldn’t be so much of a problem, the man was built like a giant teddy bear. But right now, there was nothing you wanted less than to be in close contact with Tom. But it would seem like nothing was going to stop him.

As he laid you down carefully, he laid next to you and brought you in close to him, stroking your hair and nuzzling up to you. You were completely quiet, feeling like if you said something you would die on the spot.

“...Tom....” you said quietly, trying to build up the curate to ask him the question that you came here for. “Yes?” His voice was soft and smooth, like honey, and it shook your very being. “... what... what did you say to Jacque?” As soon as the question left your mouth the atmosphere turned cold. Toms eyes trailed off as all the warmth left his eyes. “... I said what needed to be said.” It had been three weeks since Jacques had mysteriously moved out of the island and it wasn’t hard to put two and two together, you were certain that Tom had something to do with it. “I asked you not to go overboard...” You said, looking down and avoiding Tom's gaze, a gaze that was now fixated onto you. “He was harassing you Y/N! What was I supposed to do? Acting nice wasn’t going to work! I was simply-“ Tom cut himself off as he realised he was practically shouting. He let out a deep sigh. “I was simply protecting... what is mine...”

As he said this, he placed a kiss on your forehead. This certainly caught you off guard. “I’m sorry? What did you say?” You asked him, but he didn’t answer, at least not in the way you wanted him to. “You know, when I was a boy, toy day never felt as magical as everyone set it up to be. Me and my family didn’t have too many bells back then, so most I ever got were three broken crayons. Even then, I couldn’t enjoy it without feeling the guilt of pushing more money problems onto my parents. But now...” Tom let out yet another deep chuckle, he looked at you with hungry eyes, eyes that pierced into your soul. “Now, I’ve got all the bells in the world! I could buy anything! Anything and everything! Except for... one thing. One thing that I crave so deeply, yet, can never buy. You don’t understand how many years I have gone through, how many toy days I’ve had to endure. You don’t understand the amount of towns I’ve lived in, the amount of humans who have abandoned me! How do I know that you’re not going to leave me? Just like my previous humans, just like my parents, just like Redd!? I don’t want to lose you Y/N! I can’t lose you Y/N!” Toms outburst made you shrink down in his arms. You felt yourself start to shake slightly as he continued.

“Now, now that I finally have the resources, I’m going to MAKE SURE you never leave me Y/N. My sweet little darling.” You started to struggle in his grasp, hoping to get away from him. But it was no use, he was so much stronger than you in every single way. ”Hey now, hey now.... shhh, shhh. It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay. I’m here, no one is ever going to harass you ever again. Not if I have anything to say about it.” Tom said as he brought you closer once more, this time he started to kiss you a bit more roughly rather than a quick peck on the lips. You knew that struggling was futile, so you simply tried to relax yourself as he enjoyed himself. Once he was done, he looked directly at you. “This toy day, I’ve made sure to get myself something special. Just for me.” What you didn’t know at the time was that he had locked all of the windows and doors. But you would soon find out in the morning.

“I love you Y/N. Maybe you don’t realise it yet. But I do. I’ll show you, soon you will see just how much I love you.”

———————

It feels so weird to say that it’s been 2 months since I last wrote for Tom Nook. Like what? What have I even been doing??? I’ve been feeling the withdrawals and I wanted to make a little Christmas special. So hope y’all enjoy! Merry Christmas and happy holidays!

[ohpretty-baby]

my babysitter’s a quarterback • jjk

⇥ pairing: qb!jungkook x cheerleader!reader

⇥ side pairing: namseok

⇥ synopsis: after getting cheated on by the star of the hockey team, park jimin, your life (as expected) goes downhill. what you don’t expect is your parents being skeptical of whether or not you’re a good older sibling for your sister. you also don’t expect them to call jeon jungkook—the person you hate most—to babysit the two of you.

or, alternatively: jungkook babysits you even though the two of you are the same age.

⇥ genre: fluff, crackfic, angst, e2l, jungkook is stupid, jimin’s an asshole, hoseok’s a sweetie, namjoon is also a sweetie, reader is Stressed, pining, mutual pining

⇥ warnings: cursing, crude humor, mentions of cheating, divorce

⇥ word count: 30.0k

based off a request for @fan-ati--c​ (i hope you like it dear!)

a/n: hi everyone!!! this is my first ever lengthy fic, so pls have mercy on me. i had a lotta fun writing this, so i hope you guys enjoy!!!! much much much much MUCH love <333 (feel free to give feedback and your opinions!)

“Y/N, what has gotten into you?” Your mom gently places the tip of her fork on her plate, folding her hands together. Her words are stern, but she doesn’t raise her voice in order to save face. The air at the dinner table is dense and heavy on you, and the fact that your father and your little sister, Clementine, seem to have their eyes glued on you doesn’t help either. Clementine sniffles and the sound makes your blood boil.

You sigh, looking up from your phone to shoot a glare to your mother. You also send a glance of distaste towards your sister, which allows you to get a quick sight of her puffy eyes and runny nose. The prongs of your fork are poking your lips while you lazily chew the spaghetti stuffed in your mouth. Shrugging, you place your phone and the fork down, folding your hands in order to mirror your mom seated in front of you.

You stay silent, lips pressed tightly into a thin line, because you know she has more to say.

“Darling, you’re being extremely immature,” Your mom always had to give it to you straight, “You know that Clementine didn’t mean to upset you.”

As always, your mother is articulate and sharp when she speaks. Not once does she stutter, and after being her daughter for 17 years, you’re not entirely sure if she’s ever stumbled on her words before in her entire life. It’s indicative of her personality: intelligent, quick-witted, skilled, yet unbelievably blunt. From the way her patients praise her for constantly being compassionate and kind, you often wonder if your mom really is a psychiatrist or if she’s hired a clone to work in her stead.

It’s not that you hated your mom. You loved her dearly, as you did with the rest of your family. The reason why you seemed to always butt heads with her, though, is simply because you have a little too much in common with her (personality-wise). Your dad’s always said that you were a carbon copy of your mother, after all.

“All I’m asking is that Clem asks me if she can use my makeup,” You cough, a few bits of the noodles going down the wrong pipe, “You, of all people, mom, know how expensive lipstick can be. I need that for football games.”

It’s not a clear statistic, but it is a pretty solid fact. You always use facts in order to back up your arguments, just so that your parents can’t say anything in response. Sometimes it works. You’re still waiting for the day when you have something impactful to use.

“Well, you know that when she sees you getting all pretty,” She taps her fingers on the wooden table, “She wants to do the same, and as the-“

“As the older sister, I have to share,” You roll your eyes, and you shift your focus on Clementine, “Sorry, ok? I won’t get so mad next time.”

“Clementine, what do you say?”

“It’s ok,” She sniffles, wiping her eyes.

“No, dear. What do you say?”

“I forgive you, Y/N.”

You bite back the sarcastic comments you’re dying to say, opting to stuff your mouth with spaghetti instead. The rest of your family starts eating as well, and you keep your head low to avoid making eye contact with your sister. You love her with almost every bone in your body, but right now, you can’t tell if you want to throw your food at her or slap her with your ceramic plate.

Today, she took it upon herself to go through your makeup bag and steal one of your (again, highly expensive) lipsticks so she could slice it with a butterknife purely out of boredom. This all happened while you were taking a bath, and when you got into your room, you saw her sitting at your desk, lipstick chunks spread all over one of your old math notebooks. So of course, you yelled at her.

Then she cried. Then your mom made you apologize because you were upset that she wrongfully went through your stuff without permission. But that’s really how things have always been, ever since you were 5 years old and Clementine was just born. You’ve grown up constantly taking the blame for Clementine’s wrongdoings. It’s just how things work in your household, because your parents genuinely believe that she could do no wrong.

Apparently, being 12 gave you lots of perks.

“Y/N?” Your mother’s voice brings you out of your thoughts, “Y/N, listen to me when I speak to you.”

“Sorry, what’d you say?” You don’t care about matching your mom’s formality anymore, your cheek puffed up with more food.

“I was asking you how your day was.”

“Oh, just wonderful. Fantastic. Dandy,” You snap back, not really aware of what you’re saying as your words fly out of your mouth.

“What’s with your attitude, young lady?” She scoffs, then pauses a bit before speaking again, “Listen, I know that it’s tough, having to see Jimin-“

You slam your hands on the table, standing up. Your chair screeches awkwardly against the wood flooring of the dining room. Swallowing down the rest of your food, you try to soothe the hard lump forming in your throat.

“Do not try to analyze me. I’m not one of your patients. There’s nothing you need to fix about me, got it?” You raise your voice, staring her dead in the eye, “I just had a shit week and I very much do not need you to try and pinpoint whatever’s going on in my head.”

Your mother gasps, and only now does your dad decide to speak.

“Young lady, go to your room right now,” His words fall flat, and you scoff at him.

Your parents were complete opposites. If your mother was over analytical, your father could never read the room. Not because he was dumb, per say, but because he was always in his own little world. He always responded a little too late, felt things a second after they should be felt. That’s just how your dad thinks. He doesn’t mean to be mentally absent when all of you were at home, but he’s always been preoccupied with his work. That’s a big thing you’ve admired about your dad, how easily he can focus on one thing and ignore the rest. It’s one of the main reasons why he was so successful as an architect. Growing up, you would stay up past your bedtime just so you could be with him in his office. You’d watch how he could just sit down and create a multitude of building designs without getting distracted.

By the way he looks at you with a flash of guilt in his eyes, you can tell that he’s the only one that gets your reasoning. You can also tell that he knows how wrong it is for your mom to bring up your ex-boyfriend during dinner.

But because he wants to uphold his “authoritative” figure, he needs to “put his foot down”.

“I was planning on it anyway, thanks,” You grumble, storming off.

Once you reach your room, you slam the door—purely for dramatic effect. You throw yourself on the bed, getting out your phone and doing the first thing that pops into your head. You call Hoseok and he answers right away. A smile flashes on your face as you feel some relief from your anger.

“Hello?”

Jung Hoseok has been your best friend ever since you first stepped into your hellhole of a high school building. He was your saving grace. The only thing that kept you sane.

When you joined the Monarchs, the cheerleading squad of your school, Hoseok was the only person who talked to you during practice, even if he was a year older than you. An infamous characteristic of his is his big smile. His lips always resembled a widened heart, and he showed off his pearly whites wherever he went, exuding happiness that was extremely contagious. And if his smile was big, his heart was even bigger.

You know this because Hoseok immediately asks you “Is everything okay?” when he hears your shaky breath over the line.

You explain to him what had happened seconds prior to this phone call. Then your conversation spirals into you ranting about how your parents have been telling you that you’ve been a terrible sibling. It’s something insulting to hear, knowing that they’ve always made you take the blame for everything your sister does. It hurts even more that they can’t acknowledge the fact that getting through a breakup is hard for a 17 year old girl. They couldn’t even cut you some slack.

A pang of guilt hits you when you relay everything you’ve said to your sister over to Hoseok. Maybe you were somewhat in the wrong here. But could you blame yourself? You were going through a hard time, and it’s not unusual for someone who’s stressed to act out. Not to mention when the stressor is heartbreak.

During the beginning of September, you found Park Jimin, your past boyfriend of one year, and some other Sophomore on the cheer team making out in his car afterschool. It was now the end of October, but the memory haunts you in your every waking moment. The image of another girl pressed up on him, her skirt hiked up high enough so that you could see her spandex, flashes in your mind. In your head, you see Jimin running her hands all over the girl’s skin, purple splotches blooming on her neck and on his.

You shut your eyes, rubbing them violently as you try to ignore the painful truth: If you hadn’t decided to surprise him with some brownies you made for him that day, they would’ve done a lot more than just making out.

The notion makes tears prick your eyes, the familiar sting returning. You had been crying almost every night. Everytime you close your eyes, the same image of him and that girl appears and you can’t get rid of it at all.

You’re about to break down again, and Hoseok talks you through it. He allows you to vent, to let everything out, and he promises that the two of you will hang out after tomorrow’s practice. It gives you relief, something to look forward to at the end of the next school day. Tomorrow was Friday after all, and like you said before to your mom, your week was shit.

There had to be at least one good thing you could have this week.

That statement is short lived, however, because instead of sitting with Hoseok at your favorite diner with a strawberry milkshake in front of you, you’re sitting at your dinner table yet again, poking at pizza with a plastic fork. You stare at the grease stains on your paper plate in disgust, as the dining room is so silent you can practically hear the small ticks of the red second hand of the clock on the wall. 

What a great way to start the weekend. Friendless, boyfriend-less, and miserable. You look up from the greasy mess before you to shoot a glare to the person in front of you.

“Why the hell are you here?” are your first words to the boy.

“Your parents called me?” He responds, mimicking your questioning tone. You scoff at him.

Jeon Jungkook. The cocky, annoying as fuck quarterback on the football team who coincidentally sits behind you in Pre-Calc everyday is now sitting across from you at your dinner table. The boy who breaks off pieces of eraser chunks and throws them at your head just to annoy you while the teacher is giving a lesson. The kid who kicks your chair at least five times every single day just because he has fun getting a rise out of you.

You don’t know how exactly your hatred for him began, but it definitely started when you first became a cheerleader.

Popularity was never something that came easily to you. Many people don’t remember, but in Freshman year, the only time your class knew of you was when your name was called for attendance. You didn’t play any sports, nor did you participate in theatre or had any musical talents whatsoever. You were simply just, there.

This all changed when your mom suggested cheerleading. You did have a few years of solid gymnastic experience and you really had nothing better to do, so you decided to take the opportunity to sign up for tryouts.

It was hard, and you slipped up a lot of times, but the coaches saw potential in you. They told you that you’ve really got drive, and they praised you for continuing to get up and perfectly following directions when they asked you to execute an especially hard move. Eventually, you were accepted and once you had more time to practice, you had gotten the hang of cheerleading quite quickly. You ended up falling in love with the sport, working hard both on and off the field. You always got constant praise for your willingness to learn new things.

And with your new success on the team, you gained a reputation for yourself.

When, exactly, did Jungkook join the picture?

You’re not sure. He kind of forced himself in.

One day, you weren’t at your usual best. The sun was beating down on you harshly, which didn’t make things any better. The football team had been practicing with you guys, and it was obvious that many of the boys were ogling at the cheerleaders. They would nudge each, looking suggestively at the girls while whispering crude comments about them.

Jungkook, being the youngest and most energetic one on the team, had other ideas in mind. You see, he lived quite loudly and he was… Eccentric, to say the least.

His eyes were focused on the cheerleaders, pinpointing at anything that would be of use to him. He peered around intently, looking for any mess ups or mistakes that they had made. He would have made fun of anyone, really. Jungkook didn’t know much about the girls on the squad, so he really had no problem using their flaws to his benefits. He wanted to make his own team laugh, and that in itself was justification enough for Jungkook.

It was just unfortunate that you were his target.

Once he saw you topple over on the ground, he was ready.

“Hey, thunder thighs! Be careful out there!”

After that, you heard nothing but boisterous laughter from the football players. It was an immature insult, one ridiculous enough to enrage you. You wished you could’ve ran over to the other side of the field and just punched him the gut, right then and there. But his own coach and grabbed him by the ear, dragging him towards you so he could apologize.

It was a lame apology, and you could tell that he was trying everything in his absolute power to bite back the laugh he was holding in. You would've said something about it, but since Jungkook was more built than you and there were authorities present, you reluctantly accepted the apology, choosing to go on with your practice instead of letting it get to you.

And after that day, Jungkook has made it his goal to torment you whenever he sees you. Since he sits behind you in Pre-Calc now, that’s become his job every day.

Jungkook was taller than Jimin. He was a pretty attractive football player, too. You would give him at least that. But he was meaner than Jimin. A bigger asshole than Jimin. More annoying than Jimin could ever be.

Literally any good quality that you thought you could find in a guy, Jeon Jungkook did not possess it. Any kindness, sympathy, or even general decency in his heart was nowhere to be found.

He had messy brown hair, a smug grin on his face that you’d love to punch, and a lean body that you wish had gone cripple. Confidence wasn’t something that he had a lack of. In fact, Jungkook’s cup overfloweth with so much confidence to the point where describing him as merely confident would be a misdeed.

Narcissistic was the word. He was extremely narcissistic and obsessed with himself, which was indicative of the daily gym snaps he’d post on his Snapchat story. He was everything that disgusted you about guys combined and turned human.

Jungkook’s very presence could set you off, and you know that he lives off of that.

This is no different from your Friday night, as he’s gnawing on pizza right in your own damn house. He’s scrolling through his phone and you’re staring at him in disgust, while Clementine has already eaten and is now sitting on the couch, curled up with some sci-fi book she got from the store last week. Taking in his appearance, you inwardly cringe when you notice him lick the oil that has found itself on his fingers.

“There’s a napkin right next to you.”

“That would be a waste of paper,” Jungkook responds, licking away the last remnant of oil and marinara sauce on his thumb, “Gotta be eco-friendly, y’know?”

He wiggles his fingers at you, his infamous shit-eating grin appearing yet again. You hate the way his mouth tugs up to the right a little bit, how his eyes gleam mischievously since he’s so full of himself. If Clementine wasn’t in the house right now, you’re certain that Jungkook would’ve been on the floor, knocked out. You would’ve hit him with a frying pan, like in that one Disney movie Clementine loved so much. Or you would’ve hit him with your Pre-Calc textbook. That shit was heavy. You could knock him out cold with that. Give him a taste of his own medicine.

You roll your eyes at him, saying nothing and eating the rest of your pizza. You make a mental note to ask your parents why the fuck they thought it was a good idea to call over Jungkook on a Friday night.

But you know the answer to that already. They seem to believe that you haven’t been “responsible” enough for Clementine, which is weird, knowing that you’ve practically raised her all her life. Your parents have always been too busy to spend enough quality time with her, save for when they defend her at dinnertime.

So instead of having a civil conversation with you—or even asking if you were doing alright—they decided (without your permission) that a babysitter would be the best option for your little sister. And you still had to stay at home tonight because your mom asked you to “see if the babysitter is okay for Clementine”.

You’re not sure where the logic was in your parents’ thought process, but you did feel bad about your sister. She had warmed up to you a little bit after yesterday, but you know that she’ll stay closed off for a while. Not only to you, but to everyone else. You wish that your parents had known that. If they did, they’d be able to get that you’re probably the best babysitter for her. But no, they had to invite Jungkook over, someone who’s boisterous and annoying, and they probably expect Clementine to get along with him just fine. (And also, what had even compelled him to start a career in babysitting?)

So you decide to stay, just so she won’t be scared of being in her own house. You have been hard on her for a little bit after all, getting irrational and moody whenever she talks to you. It’s the least you could do for her. Despite everything, you still did really love her. 

She was your sister, for goodness sake!

“Hey, just a reminder,” Jungkook’s at your trash can, throwing away his plate, “Your bedtime’s at 10 tonight.”

It’s a stupid statement, and both of you are aware that the rules are for your sister. You can’t help but feel yourself heat up, though, when he sends a wink your way.

“That’s for my sister, you dumb fu-“

Your obvious response and insult combo is interrupted when you find Clementine standing in the doorway.

“Y/N?” Her voice is timid, shy, and her head hangs low when she speaks. She doesn’t like how there’s some random stranger in the kitchen.

“Yes?”

“Can we play Telestrations?” She keeps her eyes on you, and you feel yourself soften. It’s been a little bit since the two of you played anything together.

“Mind if I join in?” Jungkook says before you can actually respond to her. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, and Clementine blinks at him, stunned. All she does is nod, too afraid to verbally respond to your classmate.

You’re also stunned by his sudden change in demeanor. His cocky aura is replaced with a soft tone, smiling brightly at Clementine instead of smirking at you. He walks over to her, asking her where the board game is. She mumbles something quietly, something only Jungkook can hear, and he responds with an even more enthusiastic grin. He turns to you before they make their way back to the living room.

“You coming, or…?”

So that’s how you find yourself at your coffee table with your little sister and the most annoying person you’ve met in your entire life, getting ready to play a round of Telestrations.

All you can say is that your night definitely isn’t going the way you planned at all.

He’s sitting criss cross applesauce on the carpet, extremely relaxed as you pass out the cards, the drawing pads, and the dry erase markers. You try to hide the scowl you oh so desperately want to show, but if Clementine sees you upset with him, she’ll definitely feel less safe with him.

You don’t know why you’re defending him, but here you are, attempting to be civil with him just to make sure your sister doesn’t feel as threatened as you do. You try your best not to start any fights with him, either. You’ve heard enough about people calling you a bitch at school. Ever since you broke up with Jimin, you’ve somehow been deemed the psychotic ex by all of your peers, because how could Jimin possibly do anything wrong?

You can’t tell what’s worse: the fact that everyone says you’re a bitch, or the fact that girls come up to you now, asking you for advice on your ex-boyfriend.

Sighing, you watch as Clementine rolls a four and chooses “This Side” of the cards. You internally groan when you look at the yellow side of the card. The glossy square seems to laugh at you, presenting what your subject would be.

How the hell were you supposed to draw “tunnel vision”?

Writing your name and the word on the first page, you mentally prepare for the challenge heading your way.

“Y/N,” Clementine calls for you, “Mine isn’t working…”

Jungkook hands his marker to her before you can, and he’s testing all the other markers in the box to see if they’ll work for him. You look at him accusingly, eyes asking him: “What the hell are you trying to gain?” He shrugs at you, a simple action that tells you:

“Sorry, I’m just a great babysitter.”

He quickly goes back to his own card, copying down the words with his new marker. You return your attention to your pad, figuring out how you were going to draw your word.

“Are you gonna set the timer, Clementine?” Jungkook asks, and she shakes her head.

“We don’t use it,” She responds in a mere whisper, and Jungkook can’t hear her.

“Huh?”

“We don’t use the timer,” You answer for her, “It’s more fun that way. You can take your time.”

He nods, and the three of you flip to the first page so you can start.

You draw—well, attempt to draw—a pair of glasses facing two strange rods. You squint at the doodle, examining it as if you had to guess what the answer was. The only possible answers you’ve come up with are that A.) You’re terrible at drawing, B.) Art is definitely not your future career, and C.) No one is going to be able to figure out your drawing, not even yourself.

“So, Clementine,” Jungkook starts, catching both you and your sister’s attention, “That’s a pretty cool name.”

“Thank you,” She doesn’t look up from her pad, too focused on her drawing.

“Do people call you anything else?” He prompts, going to work on his own pad as well.

“What do you mean?” “Like, nicknames.”

“Oh. My friends call me Tina,” She says, “Y/N calls me Clem, though.”

“That’s dope,” He pops the “p”, and the way his mouth moves is enough to annoy you.

“Yeah,” Is all your sister says, and it’s obvious that both of them are determined in making their drawings look good. You, on the other hand, are already done with your sad chicken scratch of a drawing, and you take the time to watch Clementine as she leans close to her pad, right hand clutching the marker tightly.

Like your dad, Clementine was able to immerse herself in a single task, but unlike him, she was incredibly skilled in multitasking. Sometimes, she’d read a book while having a full conversation with you, and she’d still remember the content of the chapter she was reading. It was a skill that you both envied and admired about her, how she could easily redirect her attention to one task while also still performing the second task flawlessly.

“You done already, Y/N?” Jungkook quirks a brow while he looks up from his drawing. You sneak a glance at your sister, who’s immersed in her drawing, before responding.

“Don’t push it,” You mouth out, folding your hands together on your lap while you wait for the other two to finish. Jungkook flashes an obnoxious smirk your way, and it takes everything in you to not kick him in the balls right now.

“I’m done,” Clementine announces, passing her pad to you. You pass yours to Jungkook, praying that he doesn’t say anything too terrible to you. He then passes his to Clementine, completing the circle.

“W-What?” Jungkook mumbles to himself, biting back a laugh while he examines your drawing. You internally groan. There was no use in hoping that he’d have mercy on you.

In an attempt to block out his bothersome snickering, you try to guess what Clementine’s word was. You feel part of yourself die inside, as you can already tell what she’s drawn. You write the word “deer” on the third page, after looking at the drawing one more time. In the short amount of time Clementine had given herself, her depiction of a deer was scarily accurate.

“Are you guys done?”

She has her pad lying on the coffee table while she drums her fingers on the surface. You nod, while Jungkook has his hand covering his mouth. He shakes his head, still trying to decipher your sad, sad drawing. Instead of making fun of you, he’s actually making an effort to figure out what your word was, eyebrows deeply furrowed while his eyes run across your pad multiple times.

You’d feel bad because you truly don’t have an artistic bone in your body, but seeing him frustrated by your doing slightly amuses you.

Jungkook takes a few seconds before taking a deep sigh and quickly scrawling something on your pad. You can’t tell if you’re excited or dreading what he put down for your word, but that doesn’t matter because now you have to draw Clementine’s guess of what Jungkook’s word is.

A frog?

How come everyone else’s words were so easy? And how are you supposed to remember what a frog looks like?

Biting your lip, you hesitantly put the dry erase marker on the pad. You stop when it makes the initial hit, a small dot appearing on the laminated surface. This is because Jungkook’s leaning over to watch you draw, his hair mere centimeters away from tickling your skin. When you freeze, Jungkook finally moves away, turning to face you.

“You need something?” You ask in an accusatory tone. He shrugs.

“I dunno. You look constipated, so I was curious,” He says, working on a new drawing. It’s another dumb yet excruciatingly annoying jab at you, and you’re baffled at how anyone could think that that was something of use to say.

Clementine giggles, and both you and Jungkook gawk at her in surprise. You feel a sense of betrayal, seeing as your own sister finds someone like Jeon Jungkook humorous. But she’s having fun, so maybe your dignity would have to be something to sacrifice tonight.

And your parents wonder whether or not you’re a good older sister for Clementine, as if you weren’t literally tolerating the person you hate most right now just for her. You steady yourself, being proud of your kindness to him so far. The fact that you’ve actually restrained yourself from knocking Jungkook out in itself is a surprise. You’ll be sure to reward yourself with something later.

You go back to your drawing, working on the small bumps for the eye sockets and the wide almond shape of the frog’s mouth. The frog looks incredibly awkward, its eyes a little too close for your liking. Did frogs have nostrils? Obviously, right? You draw two thin slits on top of its long line of a mouth, hoping that that’s what a frog’s nose looks like. It resembles a frog, and honestly you’re willing to take whatever you can get, so you close the pad, waiting for the other two to finish.

When everyone is done and all of the pads have returned to their respective owners, you get ready to present the devolution of your prompts. Clementine’s eager to go first, which puts a soft smile on your face.

She shows off her deer, and then your correct guess, and then Jungkook’s drawing. Quite frankly, you’re quite amazed at Jungkook’s depiction of the prompt.

There’s a cute deer standing on some grass with a few random flowers around it. Like Clementine’s, it’s quite realistic, keeping in mind of the limited time and resources you’ve all had. Jungkook’s chest swells in pride when the two of you stare at his drawing for a few more seconds, secretly admiring his handiwork.

“I didn’t know you could draw!” Clementine’s indirect praises increase his ego but you stay quiet, not willing to say anything too positive around him.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Jungkook responds, pointing out how good her deer is.

Jungkook takes his turn to present, and even his frog is amazing. Then, he flips to your drawing, a failed imitation of a frog compared to Jungkook’s accurate one a few seconds ago.

“Tina,” The sudden use of the nickname confuses you. Since when did he think he could be this informal?

“Yeah?”

“Your sister’s not really the creative one in the family,” The corners of his mouth quirk upwards, “Don’t you think?”

Clementine thinks about what to say while Jungkook watches the steam coming out of your ears in pure delight. No matter how good of an artist Jungkook is, or how good of a babysitter he could be, nothing would ever make you want to be acquaintances with him, let alone being just civil with him. What makes matters worse is that Jungkook can easily get away with making infuriating jabs at you since your sister is here with you.

You also try not to think about how Jungkook is getting paid for tormenting you outside of school, because if you dwell on it for far too long, you don’t know what you’d do.

“Y/N doesn’t have to be good at that kinda stuff,” Clementine turns to you happily, “She’s already cool.”

You sheepishly smile back at her, and then she asks you to show your drawing pad now.

“Okay, so,” You clear your throat, “Uh, my word was tunnel vision.”

“...That actually makes sense now,” Jungkook nods, stroking his chin dramatically. He squints at the drawing as if he was in an art gallery.

“This is my drawing,” You flip the page, revealing your chicken scratch from before. Clementine bursts out laughing, and you can’t help but become a little annoyed at her reaction.

“How did you not get that?” She asks Jungkook, and you feel the anger bubble away and instead become replaced with smugness. Your sister still had your back after all.

“Hey!” He points at your drawing, baffled at your sister, “Look at that and tell me that you’d guess it correctly!”

“Um, yeah,” Clementine snickers.

“How?”

“It’s glasses. Vision,” You chime in, “Then those are tunnels. Tunnel vision, right, Clem?”

“Yeah!”

“What?!” Jungkook gawks while you give your sister a triumphant high five.

“What could you have possibly guessed?” You chuckle, turning the page out of curiosity.

Before you can see the word, however, Jungkook forcibly snatches the pad out of your hands. He’s no match to your quick reflexes, though, because you’re pouncing onto him, pinning him to the carpet so you can retrieve your stolen drawing pad.

You’re about to grab it, but then he grins at you, making you stop in your tracks.

Your eyes widen, realizing how you’re in an extremely close vicinity to him, his face inches away from yours. The two of you make unnerving, silent eye contact, each of you staring at each other’s face from time to time. It’s during this that you notice how big his eyes are, resembling Clementine’s drawing of the deer from before. You also notice the mole under his bottom lip and how his lips are naturally tinted a pleasant pink. Jungkook chuckles tauntingly at you and you come back to your senses. You’ve been staring at his lips far longer than you’d like to admit.

“Can’t get your hands off me, huh?” He whispers, winking at you. The pizza you had eaten 20 minutes ago crawls up your throat right away, and you immediately peel yourself off of him. Jungkook still has the pad in his hands, signalling a victory for him.

You cough awkwardly, returning to your seat and wiping away imaginary dust on your lap. You claw at some loose fabric of your sweatpants, balling up the material in your hands. Jungkook sits up as well, nonchalantly fixing his now messy hair. He remains unphased, even though you were literally on top of him a few seconds ago.

“He put Harry Potter and taquitos,” Clementine says, breaking the silence. Jungkook’s eyes shoot up to send her a glare with feigned annoyance, while you end up laughing a bit louder than you’d like to. Then again, anything to relieve the uncomfortable tension would work.

Jungkook’s cheeks are tinted a shy, light pink, while embarrassment is painted all over his face. It’s a lame situation to laugh at, one that you probably would never admit to anyone that you find it humorous, but seeing Jungkook flustered makes you the happiest girl in the world.

The night continues with Clementine bringing out all of the board games your parents bought you over the years. It’s fun yet unbelievably painful, having to cooperate with Jungkook just for the sake of Clementine. When you played Monopoly with them, you were always reluctant to give Jungkook money, even if it was fake. You were also reluctant to receive money from him, even if the action was beneficial for you and not the other way around.

He spends the night still making stupid jabs at you, some of them earning laughs from your sister. You suck it up and deal with it, because this is the happiest you’ve seen Clementine in a long time, so you just strain a smile and move on.

When it’s about 9:45 PM, the three of you stop playing board games since Clementine has to get ready for bed. You come up to her room so that you can say goodnight and tuck her in.

“Today was fun, Y/N,” She giggles while you pull the covers over to her.

“That’s good to hear, Clemmie,” You respond, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

Before you shut off her light, Clementine grabs the bottom hem of your shirt.

“Y/N?”

“What’s up?” The scared look in her eyes tells you that you’re gonna have to stay for a little longer, so you sit down on the bed.

“Are mom and dad gonna be okay?”

At first, you’re shocked that Clementine had even noticed, but then again, she’s always been this observant. And she was 12 already. She wasn’t dumb. It was also obvious that the reason why your parents randomly decided to go to dinner tonight was because they were trying to iron out some issues that they’ve been having.

All you do is nod and ruffle her hair playfully. Another smile appears on her face when you kiss her cheek.

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” You say, although you’re not so sure yourself.

Recently, you’ve been having trouble sleeping as well. This was because your parents always start fighting whenever they see that Clementine is asleep. You don’t know what exactly they’re arguing about every night, but you’ve assumed that it must be money issues or something along the lines of that. Real adult stuff that they want to keep you two out of, but it’s so hard to ignore when they’re yelling at each other so loudly.

Clementine’s room is closer to the stairs. Of course it’s not a surprise that she’d notice there was something wrong with your parents.

“Do you think I…?” She mumbles out the question, but you don’t need her to finish the rest of it because you’re wrapping an arm around her, pulling her close to you.

“Don’t ever think that,” You say, sighing, “You didn’t do anything, ok? Mom n’ Dad are just fixing things between themselves.”

She nods, hugging you back.

“You should go to sleep,” You pull yourself off of her, placing yet another kiss on her head before tucking her in under the covers, “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“Promise?” She sticks out her pinky finger and you chuckle, sticking out yours and looping it around hers.

“I promise.”

“Night, Y/N.”

You say goodnight to her, turning off her lamp and shutting the door. Now that she was attended to, you had to start cleaning up. You walk downstairs to see Jungkook sprawled out over your couch, lazily scrolling through his phone. You wish that the saying “Make yourself at home” never existed, since your parents have an affinity for using it, which in turn forces you to deal with Jungkook laying on your couch like a complete slob.

The first job you assign yourself is to tidy up the living room, and you stack up all of the board games together so you can put it in the random storage closet your house has. Jungkook, of course, doesn’t bat an eye at the fact that you’re cleaning up the house all by yourself.

An uncomfortable silence falls between the two of you. You walk over to the kitchen to have another slice of pizza while Jungkook acts like you don’t exist in your own house. Your stomach grumbles obscenely, even though you had a slice a few hours earlier.

It must be the stress. You do tend to be hungrier when you’re under a lot of stress, and today threw many annoyances your way.  

You check your phone and you realize that Hoseok texted you an hour ago.

[October 9, 7:30 PM] Hobi: Y/N i honestly think i’m gonna lose my mind?????????? Y/N? Y/N where tf are u i’m going insane holy shit text me when u get this PLEASE

Right away, your fingers move at the speed of light

[October 9, 10:30 PM] Y/N: omfg hobs you have no idea the shit i just went thru think i got three years taken off of my life anyways sry for the late reply what happened?

The iconic three dots and text bubble show up. You stifle a laugh. Hoseok must’ve been waiting by his phone for your text.

Hobi: i think i may have gotten myself into a date???

Y/N: a WHAT with WHO Hobi: yknow like mymanwhosnotreallymanbutheis yeah him Y/N: ur joking SPILL

You eagerly chew on the cold, stale pizza in your other hand as you wait for Hoseok to tell his whole story. Whether he’d be sending a voice memo or he’d just spam you with a multitude of texts, you never really knew. That’s just how Hoseok was.

But that didn’t really matter, because Hoseok had a date. With the kid he’s liked since the beginning of last year. Kim Namjoon.

Kim Namjoon, coincidentally in Hoseok’s photography class this semester, was easily the smartest person in the whole school. The teachers were more than heartbroken knowing that he’d be graduating this year. The students, more specifically the girls, were also saddened, because Namjoon was also quite attractive. He was tall, kind, and extremely smart, and because of this, he had earned the title as “The Package” by Hoseok. He was everything everyone ever wanted in one person. Accurately put, Kim Namjoon was a  full package.

Hobi: ok well like we have a project in photography class where we have to take pics of nature and i wanted to do the flowers bc yknow, easy A and since u couldn’t hang out today >:( Y/N: hey, not my fault my parents think that i’m a terrible sister

Hobi: yeah u have to tell me how that went but anyways i went out to take pics after practice and guess who i saw? namjoon

Y/N: aaaaAAAAAHHHH

Hobi: YEAH and then we were talking and stuff and it turns out that he’s doing flowers too and then he gave me HIS NUMBER Y/N: omfg,,,

Hobi: i  k n o w so like i think two hrs ago he texted me and we started talking and stuff and then he was like “yknow there are prettier flowers in the botanical garden downtown” and then he asked if i wanted to hang out next week so i said yeah Y/N: holy shit hobs

Hobi: yeah so it’s not really an official date but i’m counting it as one in my book

You hold back a squeal, though you want to scream at the top of your lungs so badly. You opt to just smiling from ear to ear at your screen as you continue to freak out over text.

Hobi: the only problem is that i have to pretend that i like nature :( but not only that…. like i have to know stuff

Now Hoseok’s begging you for advice on nature, and you mention that you also aren’t the biggest nature lover either. Hoseok tells you he’ll have to do some research on flowers and you think that he’s the funniest person you’ve ever met. 

Your brief moment of happiness is rudely interrupted, however, when you suddenly see Jungkook before you, standing across from you at the kitchen island.

“You’re still hungry?” He says, opening the box and grabbing the last slice.

“You’re one to talk,” You scowl, watching him take a bite from his pizza.

Jungkook leans on the island, which in turn causes him to be closer to you, since you’re also leaning on the same surface.

“You don’t really smile a lot, baby,” He teases, wiping off sauce from the corner of his mouth.

So there he was. The Jeon Jungkook you’ve known and hated so dearly. He’s always called you random pet names, simply because he knows how much you despise him. It takes everything in you to hold back the urge to cuss him out. The walls are thin and your sister might wake up.

“Don’t call me that, first off,” You spit, “Second off, why do you care so much?”

“Jus’ makin’ conversation,” His cheeks puff up as he continues to stuff his mouth with food.

“Like I give a shit,” You grumble, looking away from the chewed up food that you can see in his mouth. It’s so unfortunate that Jungkook thinks it’s a good idea to talk while eating.

“Wow, you’re so mean to me,” He takes a large swallow of his food and then pouts, “You’re killin’ me here, babe.”

Despite his seemingly sad words, Jungkook’s giving you a big, toothy grin. He winks at you for the umpteenth time tonight, and you try to think of all the ways to kill someone in silence. Right now, you wish that Clementine was awake, because it’s only around her that he seems to be somewhat decent towards you.

“You have a nice house and nice parents,” He says, more to himself rather than you as his eyes scan the tidy kitchen, “And your sister’s so nice. Why aren’t you?”

“Why are you such an asshole?”

“Why are you such a bitch?”

Some would say that 10 PM is too late to have a nonsensical argument with some douchebag quarterback from your grade, but here you are having a ridiculously heated dispute with Jungkook at 10 PM. Again, all of this is happening in your own house.  

You roll your eyes at him, and you wonder how you haven’t hurt yourself by the amount of times you’ve done that today.

The two of you eat pizza in angered silence, an uncomfortable situation you never thought you’d ever have in your entire life. Well, you’re a lot angrier than Jungkook, who’s got a smug, satisfied look on his face because he just thinks it’s so much fun to annoy the hell out of you. That makes you even more upset, which causes you to get angry with yourself because you know you shouldn’t let someone get to you like this. It’s a never ending cycle of negativity whenever you’re around him, really.

Soon enough, the faint, muffled sound of the garage opening is heard through the door, and you breathe a sigh of relief. That’s Jungkook’s signal to leave.

Before he leaves, though, he turns to you yet again.

“Thanks for the money,” He winks, “And the free pizza.”

The weekend goes by pretty slowly, but eventually, you end up in the classroom again.

Your school day is pretty much uneventful until you get to 5th hour Pre-Calc.

The busy click, click, click of mechanical pencils and the sound of scribbles from students’ writing are all you can hear after lunch. You follow their leads, hastily scrawling down your own notes on the lines of your notebook on your desk. Once you finally get into the zone of your note taking, you feel Jungkook lean in behind you. He’s so close that you can smell the cologne he uses, and the familiar odor sets off your flight or fight system.

Now that your parents have officially “hired” Jungkook as Clementine’s full-time babysitter, you realize that you’ll be forced to see him more often and have that strong, pungent cologne constantly wafting into your nostrils. You’re certain that you’d lose your sense of smell eventually.

If only Clementine hadn’t continued praising him after he left last Friday. Maybe then your house would actually be a safe haven for you. But no, now Jungkook is allowed to come and go into your house whenever your parents need him. (Again, as if they didn’t have a whole other daughter who was willing to take care of Clementine.)

But that’s another issue to worry about later, because Jungkook’s obnoxiously chomping down on his gum right in your ear. He’s so close that you can practically smell the watermelon flavor from his mouth, and you want to barf.

All you can think is: A.) Who in their right minds would ever actively choose watermelon gum over mint, and B.) Who would think it’s a good idea to chew on their gum so damn loud in the middle of class?

To both of those questions, the answer is Jungkook, plain and clear.

“Do you mind?” You hiss at him as you try to copy what the teacher has written on the chalkboard, “This isn’t a fucking ASMR channel.”

“Slow your roll there, baby,” His words come out in a teasing lilt, the pet name causing you to tighten your grip on your pencil, “First off, mind your business. Second off, I’d be an amazing ASMR youtuber, thank you very much.”

He’s imitating the way you talk to him, which makes your blood boil yet again.

“Well, you’re not giving me any chills.”

“I could if I wanted to.”

His statement causes you to freeze in your seat, mind racing as you try to think of a good comeback. Nothing appears, and you’re sure that if you were in the right headspace, you would’ve already had something good to say.

But you’re still going through heartbreak and the stress of dealing with your parents, so all you can muster to say is:

“You’re disgusting.”

Your words remind you of Friday night, which then makes you want the Earth to cave in under you and swallow you whole. You’re still dumbfounded at how Jungkook was able to come into your house without setting off all of the security systems your parents have installed there.

“Aw, baby girl,” The use of that pet name makes the digested lunch from 20 minutes ago crawl up your throat rapidly, “You really got me there! I’m so hurt, you know that? You’re so mean to me.”

You can’t see him, but you just know that he’s clutching his heart dramatically. Your whole body burns up in flames as you imagine the annoying smile on his face, the way it tugs to the right side a little more because he’s so proud of himself. He can see the steam pouring out of your ears, and all that does is egg him on.

Now he’s poking your back lazily with the end of his pencil, propping his head up on his elbow as he tries his hardest not to laugh.

It takes approximately ten seconds until you snap.

Once the pencil hits your back for the umpteenth time, you reach behind you quickly, snatching it and tugging it forcefully out of his hands. Without thinking, you hold the ends of the pencil between your fists and when your fists shoot up away from each other, the pencil breaks in half cleanly. You’re satisfied with the splintering ends of Jungkook’s pencil while he’s gawking at you, wondering how the hell you could have broken a pencil without any struggle. The smug smile is now on your face, but it quickly fades away when Ms. Lee turns to you and places her hands on her hips, a scowl on her face. You make eye contact with her and you immediately straighten up your seat, your breath hitching as you attempt to remain calm under her threatening presence.

You weren’t scared of many things, but Ms. Lee definitely made your skin crawl.

“Miss Y/N?” Her voice booms all the way to your seat in the back of the class, “Would like to share with the class as to why exactly you’re breaking a pencil in the middle of my lesson?”

“No, ma’am,” You quickly respond, your words coming out in a pathetic squeak.

You can feel the mischievous gaze Jungkook has on you, but you pay no attention to it. The teacher grunts, turning her back to the class and resuming her ever so important task of writing important formulas on the chalkboard.

You let out a soft groan and you noticeably slump in your seat, making Jungkookk chuckle.

“Nice save there, Y/N.”

“Fuck off, will you?” You toss the pencil halves back onto his desk, not wanting to have anything to do with any of Jungkook’s property. You made a mental note to wash your hands once class ended so you could rid yourself of whatever pathogens lurked on Jungkook’s pencil.

“Do you always have such a way with words?”

If you were in a private space with Jungkook, where his hands are tied and he couldn’t do anything to hurt you, you’re sure that he would’ve been beaten to a bloody pulp by now. You desperately yearn to have just one day where you can beat his ass.

But you frown, knowing that that day would never come.

“Do you always act like a pretentious dick?”

“Baby girl,” The name returns and you have never wanted to kill someone as much as you’d like to Jeon Jungkook right here, right now, in 5th Hour Pre-Calc with Ms. Lee, “If there’s anything to describe this dick, it’s certainly not pretentious, I’ll have you know that.”

“Wow,” You scoff, “Do you always have such a way with words?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact-“

“Miss Y/N and Mr. Jungkook!” Ms. Lee bellows, “I am teaching a lesson! Would you like to share-“

“No, ma’am!”

You keep your head low, continuing to copy down the notes on the board. Jungkook kicks the back of your seat multiple times throughout class, and the only thing you can think is:

How is this guy allowed to be around little kids?

Usually, when you see someone regularly in your life, your bond with them grows stronger. But with Jeon Jungkook, you’ve learned with each passing day that your hate for him becomes stronger and stronger. And it’s been exactly five weeks. You’ve kept track.

Because now that he’s your sister’s babysitter, he’s become a lot more involved in your life. At least, he’s become involved in Clementine’s life (which ultimately means yours as well).

And as a result, your parents have started going out almost every single night, save for when there’s a football game or when Jungkook is too busy with homework. This meant that he was at your house at least 3 times a week, sometimes even more, because he just loved being with your family and your family just had to feel the same way. Sometimes your parents would even ask him to drive Clementine home from school. 

(An issue that would easily be solved if they let you learn how to drive. But apparently that was absolutely preposterous.)

One thing you’ve learned about Jungkook is that he’s scarily good at acting. He’s amazing at being sweet to Clementine, offering to drive her home after school whenever he can and creating inside jokes with her all the time as if he wasn’t planning on ruining your life this whole time. Since he’s such a “good babysitter”, your parents have started having him come over for dinner, and almost every night you had to restrain yourself from starting a food fight with him. He was always polite to your parents, though, making easy conversation with them at the table but never even daring to say a single word to you.

If someone was on the outside looking in, they’d think that Jungkook was a good person. Like a superhero, however, when he was around you, he would take off his disguise and reveal what he really is: a conceited jock who only thought with his dick.

The only possible benefit of him taking care of Clementine is that you have a lot more freedom now. That freedom has turned into occasional hangouts with Hoseok on the weekend. You’d usually use any chance you could get of hanging out with your best friend, but you also didn’t trust the dangerous human being who was constantly in your house, watching her. As a result, you’ve chosen to stay at home with Clementine, babysitting her babysitter. You label it as being a protective older sister.

But as Jungkook annoyingly puts it, with his notorious, cocky grin:

“You really like my company, don’t you, babe?”

He couldn’t be further from the truth.

This is different from tonight, though, because you’re relishing in the overly sweet, artificial taste of the strawberry shake right in front of you. It tastes like relief, like some much needed freedom from your overbearing parents on a Thursday evening.

Today, they took it upon themselves to lecture you about your sleeping schedule, telling you it’s irresponsible to stay up so late. What they don’t get is that you’ve been working on an important paper for your AP Lang class while also helping one of your classmates with their own paper. It strikes you that they don’t realize how much schoolwork your teachers pile on you. And it infuriates you even more that they always jump to the conclusion that you’re a bad kid, even though you’ve constantly had good grades while balancing schoolwork with cheer. That notion’s always gone unnoticed.

Of course, this wasn’t a pretty sight to be seen, your parents arguing with you right before their dinner date, and coincidentally, right as Jungkook stepped into the house. You don’t know what his reaction was, but you presume that he was most likely stunned. The only time you’re ever truly enraged, bluntly saying whatever harsh comments come to your mind, is when your mom starts to belittle you. This was the first time Jungkook’s ever seen you this upset. Or articulate.

It was safe to say that things didn’t end well, you storming up into your room and slamming the door.

And, as expected, you chose to have a much needed diner date with Hoseok tonight. Clementine even encouraged you to go, saying that she’d be fine with Jungkook, but you couldn’t help but still be concerned for her safety.

“Y/N, stop checking your phone,” Hoseok whines, snatching it from you, “What’s got your panties in such a knot?”

You grumble in protest when Hoseok scrolls through your conversation with your little sister over text message.

The music from the old, torn down jukebox fills the diner, and you’re surprised that it still even works. That jukebox has been there ever since your parents were kids. Nonetheless, you enjoy the nice, cheery melodies playing from it. You kick at some random bits of fries on the floor, your beaten red converse still visible under the dark shadows of the table. The diner smells of fried food, a scent that you’ll happily breathe in everyday. There’s an elderly couple sitting at the other end of the diner, waiting for their waitress to bring them their food. The old lady waves to you, and you wave back, flashing a small smile her way.

“Y/N, Tina’s gonna be perfectly fine,” He says, creating a shooing motion with his hand, “It’s not like he’s going to kill her.”

“You don’t know that.”

“He literally loves her,” Hoseok takes a bite of his burger, some of the juice from the patty seeping out, “Yesterday he asked me to ask you what type of music Tina liked, Remember? Granted, he was too scared to talk to you. but-”

“Don’t,” You groan, stealing a fry as compensation, “Don’t remind me.”

“Hey, I don’t like him either,” He says, “But I’m just sayin’ that you don’t gotta worry so much. Your sister’s 12 already. She’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but-“

“And technically, there would be no clear motive for him to do anything wrong because he’s getting paid,” Hoseok takes a fry for himself, “Why would he feel a need to get rid of his only source of income? That’d be ridiculous.”

You sigh, resting your head on the table in defeat. He was right. Even if Jungkook was a douchebag towards you, he wasn’t insane.

“Don’t do that!” Hoseok scolds, flicking your forehead, “Your menu was just on that table!”

“So?” You rub your forehead in a failed attempt to the pain Hoseok has just inflicted onto you.

“You know menus can have 185,000 germs per square centimeter?” He exasperatedly explains, pulling out some hand sanitizer from his backpack, “Or was it only 85,000…? No, I remember it being-“

“Wonder where you got that information,” You tease, wiggling your eyebrows while you cleanse yourself with Hoseok’s hand sanitizer. The tips of Hoseok’s ears turn red in seconds, and you laugh at his misfortune.

“You’re so lucky I love you,” He grumbles, hiding his face in his hands. You giggle, eating so many of Hoseok fries that he decides to order some more for you. That’s how your diner “dates” usually went, you only ordering a shake but then stealing all of Hoseok’s food.

“How’s that going, by the way?”

“He’s adorable, as always, but he’s really… How do I say this?” He pretends to search for the right words before deadpanning, “An absolute fucking idiot.”

“What?” The statement catches you off guard, and you almost choke on your shake.

“He’s so dumb, Y/N,” Hoseok hits his forehead with his palm, “So we’ve been hanging out a lot, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then tell me why he can’t get the clue that I want him to actually ask me out?!” He groans, “Like, I’ve been trying to bring up prom, but he doesn’t get from the multiple times that I’ve said that I don’t have a date that I want him to ask me…”

Hoseok angrily chomps down on the last bit of his burger, while you’re still roaring in hysterics about how he finds Namjoon frustratingly adorable.

“I don’t get boys,” He pouts, “I really don’t. And I am one!”

“You can say that again,” You chuckle, sipping the rest of the shake in your glass.

The two of you catch up on everything you haven’t been able to share from weeks before, since school can provide only so much time for talking. When spending time with Hoseok, you realize how often you let the little things get to you. You tend to sweat the small stuff so much that you don’t realize all the good things happening to you. It was a nice albeit short break from reality, sitting with Hoseok in your favorite diner with your favorite strawberry shake and some greasy, delicious fries.

Eventually, you end up back at home at 10:30 PM. You come a little bit later than your assigned curfew, but it’s not like your parents would notice. They’d be home even later, since they’re stuck at your grandparents’ house. You snicker to yourself while you unlock the door, imagining the invigorating conversations they’re having over there.

The first thing you’re (begrudgingly) met with is Jungkook sitting on your couch, watching football.

“You’re home late,” He says, eyes glued to the screen. You kick off your shoes, letting them land wherever they want to, and you ignore him. You weren’t about to let anyone, not even Jungkook, ruin the fun night you had. It was too much for you to be constantly miserable.

Then, as if on cue, the smell of chocolate chip cookies wafts into your nose rather pleasantly.

“Did you guys bake?” You ask quietly, taking off your jacket. Jungkook nods.

You walk over to the garage door, where the coat closet is. Putting away your jacket, you smile to yourself. A cookie sounds amazing right now.

Grabbing some milk out of the fridge, you pour yourself a glass and take a second to really take in the beauty of the cookies. They’re perfectly browned at their edges, while their center is a light tan, and there’s a few visible chocolate chunks in all of them. Your mouth waters, despite stuffing yourself with milkshakes and fries. You place three cookies on a plate.

“I’ll be in my room,” You say as you walk up the stairs. You know Jungkook doesn’t care, but it’s been a force of habit ever since you were a kid.

When you reach your room, you quickly open the dormer window so you can sit on the roof.

If you were ever to meet the person who designed this house, you would give them a big hug and ask them to marry you, regardless of their gender. The dormer window and its alcove has been a safe space for you growing up, and you sit on the roof every time you need to clear your mind or if you just needed to treat yourself on an especially rough day.

You swing your legs outside the window, slowly moving near the edge of the sill until you’re comfortable. The brisk night air makes its way into your room, the wind pushing your hair gently in different directions. There’s a soft symphony of crickets chirping, and you take this moment to stare at the night sky.

A handful of stars shine in the pitch black sky, more than you’d see in the city but less than you’d see in the country. You make a silent prayer that one day that you’d be able to experience what a full starry night sky would be like.

Your plate of cookies and glass of milk is placed on the window seat. A cookie finds its way off of the plate, into your hands, and then into your mouth. The first bite is perfect, bits of chocolate and cookie crumbs left on your lips. You lick them eagerly, feeling nothing but euphoric as you take a sip of your milk.

“Never knew Tina could bake,” You hear a low voice behind you. It’s soft, but you still jump when you’re taken out of your cookie-intoxicated trance.

Looking up, you see Jungkook at your door, walking over to you. Your face is stuffed with mashed up cookie bits and some milk, and usually you’d be embarrassed, but you’re too tired to care, nonchalantly wiping off your faint milk moustache with the sleeve of your sweater.

“She’s great at it.”

“I know,” He chuckles before pointing to the window cushion, “Mind if I…?”

“If I said that I did mind,” You move your plate and your glass to the side so Jungkook has space, “What would you do?”

“I’d sit down anyways,” He jokes, doing just as he says.

“No point in asking, then.”

An awkward silence befalls the two of you, but that’s how nights with the babysitter went, unnerving pauses constantly appearing as he tries to figure out what to say to annoy you.

In fact, you’ve created a game out of these situations. You try to guess what he’ll tell you this time. Right now, you’re betting that he’ll mention something about your peach fuzz, or that you’re a fattie for having cookies late at night. He’s called you thunder thighs before. You wouldn’t put him past calling you a fattie.

“She talks about you a lot, y’know.”

You’re initially taken aback, but the night is too calming, so now you’re pulling your legs close to your chest, a soft sigh escaping your lips. You have your back turned to him, sitting on the window sill while he’s on the window seat, but you can feel his eyes on you.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” You hear him sniffle, “Didn’t know that you liked the Power Rangers so much.”

“Are you kidding me?” You turn around to face him, “That was my childhood.”

“Mine too,” He smiles, one that’s different from his usual smirk, “Favorite ranger?”

“Trini, easily,” You point to the Yellow Ranger plushie laying on your bed, and he chuckles.

“I personally like Zordon the most.”

It’s not something you’d usually laugh at, but Jungkook ends up cracking up at his own joke and somewhere along the way, you find yourself giggling at it as well.

Another silence comes, and you finish the rest of your cookies and milk while he fidgets nervously with his hands. If Jungkook was trying to have a conversation with you right now, he was failing miserably. It’s somewhat interesting to you, seeing him open his mouth to speak, hesitate, and then closing it out of the corner of your eye.

It’s kind of cute, even.

You blink, looking forward. What the hell were you thinking? Was the loneliness really getting to you that quickly?

“Tina made those for you, actually.”

“That’s sweet of her.”

“Yeah, um,” Jungkook scratches the nape of his neck, “She told me more about what happened earlier today.”

“Huh?”

“With your parents.”

“Oh.”

You imagine what Clementine must’ve thought, seeing your parents continue to yell at you for hours on end about your sleeping schedule. She hates seeing her family upset, and that probably made her sad for a while. You hope that she’s sleeping peacefully in her room right now, tucked away into a land of dreams.

“Yeah,” He mumbles, “I’m sorry about that.”

Involuntarily, you let out a scoff. Whether it’s directed towards him or your parents, you’re not sure. You are quite surprised, though. Since when did Jungkook ever apologize for anything? Since when did he ever feel bad?

“No need to be sorry,” You mumble, “Not like you did anything.”

Another silence, this time being accented with some awkward coughing.

“I mean, I think it’s sweet.”

“You think my parents getting on my back about sleep is sweet?”

“No, no, no,” He quickly sputters out, “I mean that your sister cares about you so much. I think that’s really sweet.”

“Oh, well, thanks,” You say, tugging the sleeves of your sweater over your hands, “That’s Clementine for ya. Sweet.”

“Like the fruit.”

“Yeah,” You chuckle, “Did you know her name means ‘mercy’?”

It’s a fact you like to share with anyone willing to hear.

“That’s really cool, actually.”

“Yeah, my mom chose that name because I was too mean when I was younger,” You shake your head at the memory, “She said that we’d need someone more forgiving in the family, so the name stuck.”

“I can imagine that.”

“Shut up!”

“Sorry, sorry,” He laughs, and there’s a beat of silence before he speaks again, “It’s nice, having dinner with you guys.”

“Dinner’s alright. Shockingly average,” You shrug, drawing out the last two words, “Why do you like it so much?”

“It’s nice to see you and Clementine together, I guess,” He runs a hand through his hair, “Things like that aren’t so simple for me.”

“What’s wrong with your home?” Your tone seems a lot more blunt and judgemental than you intended it to be, but Jungkook isn’t phased. He laughs at your question, even.

“Which one?”

You got the memo.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a big deal. You’re not the reason why my parents split,” He says nonchalantly, but then he laughs at himself again, “You know, I have a little brother too. He’s a little bit younger than Tina.”

You turn around and stare at him, and you’re unable to hide the surprise in your face. The position of you constantly craning your neck just to talk to him is uncomfortable, so you sit on the other side of the alcove, pulling your legs to your chest once more.

“What’s his name?”

“Yeonjin.”

“Not trying to be mean, but I always thought you were an only child. You kinda give off the vibe,” You rest your chin on your knees, “How come he’s never with you?”

“I don’t blame you,” He says, “It’s ‘cause he tries to always be with our dad. He also hates my guts, so there’s that, too.”

“...Can I ask why?”

The warm glow of your bedroom light shines on one half of his face, while the dim lighting from outside paints his other half. You take in his appearance, how his hair has gotten messier every time he runs his hands through it, how his soft brown eyes are bouncing around your room, studying each poster and each picture that you have placed on your wall. He takes a sharp breath before speaking.

“I hate my dad,” He scratches his cheek, “Well, not really? I don’t know, it’s confusing.”

“I get that.”

“I caught him cheating on my mom, I think two years ago,” He bites his lip, “And y’know, I told my mom. So they split.”

You nod, listening intently to every word he says.

“Yeon doesn’t know that. I begged them not to tell him,” He says, resting his head on the wall and staring out the window, “So he thinks that I’m why they’re not together.”

It’s during that moment where you realize that you don’t know much about Jungkook outside of the classroom and your home. You try to imagine what he must’ve felt during that moment, seeing his own dad with another woman. Then, you think about what it was like for him to know that his brother still blames him and will continue to blame him for everything.

The conclusion you reach is that you can never truly know the pain that he’s going through.

“You know it’s not your fault, though, right?” You point out, “It’s your dad’s.”

“Yeah, can’t help but feel bad sometimes, y’know?”

“I mean, no shit.”

A few light, sad chuckles emit from both of your lips.

“Well, that was strangely freeing,” He hummed, “I think you’re the second person in our school who knows that now… I don’t really know why I shared that, sorry.”

You look at him. He’s still staring out the window, his Adam’s apple clearly defined since his head is leaning back. His black shirt stretches loosely over his skin, giving you a vague hint of the muscles underneath, and his sweatpants make him look… cuddly, almost. You don’t know why, but somehow he seems as if he’d be so comfortable to hug.

Even if he’s in basic clothing, he still seems to look good.

Your initial reaction to this thought is that it’s wrong, but you’re too tired to protest it. Instead, you’re focused on how shy Jungkook has gotten, how he avoids direct eye contact and slurs his words together, save for the occasional stutters in between his sentences.

“Don’t feel bad, that’s pretty heavy. You gotta let that shit out sometimes.”

“Yeah…” He says, more to himself rather than to you, “Can I, uh, ask you a question?”

“What’s up?”

“Why’d you and Jimin break up?” His eyes are on yours, and he’s immediately trying to take back his question, “I mean, you don’t have to tell me, cause that’s none of my business-“

“You’re good,” You chuckle, “He cheated on me.”

“Damn, I’m sorry, I never knew...” He frowns, “Y’know, everyone thought you were endgame.”

“Me too,” You replied, “But apparently not.”

It isn’t until you feel Jungkook’s hand on your face that you realize you’re crying. He gently wipes away the influx of tears falling from your eyes, not saying anything sarcastic or mean towards you. He’s just… there. Ready and willing to listen. He even shuts the window when he notices you shivering, a shocking contrast from his usual behavior towards you.

It’s the first time anyone other than Hoseok has asked you for the real story. The first time someone that’s not your best friend has actually taken the time to listen to the truth.

“You know that’s not your fault, either, right?”

He’s repeating your words, but for some reason they don’t sound so convincing to you.

“I dunno,” You sniffle, “Feels like it is.”

“Why would it be? He cheated on you. Not the other way around.”

You take a few moments to steady your breathing before you speak. You don’t know why you want to spill your emotions out to Jungkook, but under the moonlight and your bedroom lights, there’s a sense of security in opening up to him.

“This is gonna sound so fucking stupid,” You start, “And you better not tell anyone, or else I’m for sure gonna kill you right when I see you.”

“I promise, I won’t.”

“I’ve never… done it,” You cringe right when the words come out of your mouth, “I told Jimin that we should wait until we… y’know.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” He states, and you can’t help but be surprised at how understanding he could be.

“You don’t think it’s a little bit weird?”

“Nah,” He replies, “I also think it’s absolutely not a reason to cheat. There’s literally no valid reason in doing that, no matter how unsatisfied you are with your partner.”

“I guess so.”

The fact that Jungkook is getting mad in your stead makes you giggle.

“And plus, it was you. How do you cheat on someone like that?”

“What do you mean?”

Jungkook pauses for a minute, processing what he had just said.

“I mean, if I was Jimin- No, I mean, if I was me,” He gestures to himself, “Which I am, I would never cheat on my partner. It just makes no sense. You already have a whole ass person who likes you. I think I’d be happy enough with that already.”

“Yeah, you’d think so,” You add, and now it’s you taking a few moments before speaking again, “Um, thanks, by the way. For talking with me, and stuff.”

“Oh, no worries,” He smiles at you, “Just kinda wanted to see how you were doing because of earlier. You did look pretty upset before you left the house.”

You smile back, and it seems like he’s about to say something, but the sound of the garage interrupts him, signalling that it’s time for him to leave. He stands up from the alcove and grabs your empty plate and cup to bring downstairs.

“Hey, I’ll see you at school tomorrow, right?”

You both know the answer to the question but Jungkook asks it anyway.

“Yeah, of course,” You can’t seem to wipe off the grin present on your face, “There’s nowhere else I could be.”

If you had to go back in time and tell yourself that eventually Jungkook would start driving you home after school and that you’d actually enjoy his company, you’re certain that your past self you’d slap your future self in the face and say that you were insane.

And maybe the latter was true.

“You’re terrible at singing,” He snickers, trying his best to keep his eyes on the road.

You’d retort and say that he doesn’t know shit and you’re actually an amazing singer, but you’re too preoccupied screaming One Direction lyrics off the top of your lungs. You decide to just jokingly flip him off instead.

The band’s songs hold a close place in your heart, because their music was what brought you and your sister closer. Although you’ve somewhat grown out of their cheesy lyrics about love and youth, you had to admit that their music was extremely catchy.

And apparently Jungkook thought this as well, because he was quietly singing along to each song word for word.

“Didn’t know you were a fan,” You tease, and he’s caught off guard.

“I’m not…”

“I bet you cried when Zayn left.”

He doesn’t look at you, because he’s driving, but the tips of his ears turn bright red, and you roar in hysterics at his reaction.

“You know I very well could’ve just left you at school,” He’s got a smile on his face despite his harsh words.

“Oh, you’d never,” You reply, staring out the window and enjoying the basic scenery around you.

After the one night where Jungkook and you dumped all your emotional baggage on each other, you found yourself looking forward to him being in your company from now on.

At first, you only decided to be nice to him since he knew the fact that you were with Park Jimin—that bombshell of a boy—and you never got it on with him. It’s not something you’re ashamed of, but you know you’d hate it if anyone else knew, because the rumor that you were crazy would just then become truer and truer to them. So you became nicer, gentler with Jungkook. Plus, hearing his story made your heart sadden a little whenever you saw how excited he was to be with Clementine.

And somewhere along the way, between him walking you to your classes and buying a Poptart pack and saving one for you after school every day, you realized that maybe he wasn’t such a bad kid to be around. He seemed to like being with you a lot too, always offering to drive you home when you had practice and when you didn’t, he’d offer to get fast food with you before going home.

Maybe it was the solidarity of experiencing pain, or it very well could just be that you’re one of the only people who knows Jungkook’s secrets and he’s one of the only people who knows about yours. Maybe there’s some pity for each other present, or it’s simply just because the both of you are tired of constantly bickering whenever you’re within a 20 foot-wide radius of each other.

You could spend countless hours trying to draw a conclusion, and you’ve tried to, during the late nights where you can’t sleep where you’re tossing and turning around restlessly. But eventually, you end up falling asleep, always answerless to the paradox you’ve been trying to solve.

Whatever the answer was, you’ve stopped caring about it, because you deemed it useless to keep trying to find it.

“How’s the new routine going?” He asks, desperate to change the topic.

“It’s going, that’s for sure,” You chuckle, “I think we just need a little bit more practice and we’ll be good.”

One thing that you’ve learned about Jungkook after becoming his friend is that he loses his natural vulgarity when you know about his family history.

You noticed this when Hoseok came over to your house one night and Jungkook didn’t call you a demeaning pet name at all during the time being. He also never bothered the two of you, making some small talk with Hoseok before leaving to play Just Dance with your sister. (He bought her that game when he found out that you guys had a Nintendo Switch that you never use).

The first thing Hoseok said to you when the two of you went to your room and you closed the door was:

“Where the hell is Jungkook and what the fuck did you do to him?”

It was a comical night, Hoseok freaking out over the wonderful, ever elusive mysteries named Kim Namjoon and Jeon Jungkook.

Another thing you (and Hoseok) had learned about Jungkook is that, surprisingly enough, his best friend was the Kim Namjoon himself.

This happened that same night, when Jungkook knocked on the door and accidentally overheard Hoseok say his name. Jungkook’s initial reaction was:

“It’s you?!” He almost shrieked in disbelief, “You’re the one Joon has a crush on?!”

His words, of course, came with a shrill: “He has a crush on me?!” from Hoseok.

Through this rude awakening, Hoseok and you learned that Namjoon was the only friend Jungkook had. Apparently, he started tutoring Jungkook when Jungkook was about to fail freshman year. Jungkook said that Namjoon was the only reason as to why he survived his first year of high school, and because of that he never left Namjoon alone. Eventually, they had strangely become the best of buddies.

And being the best of buddies meant that he knew Namjoon’s secrets.

(Safe to say, it was a rough night for both Hoseok and Jungkook but a fun one for you.)

“How’s Seok and Joon?” Jungkook asks, out of the blue, and you can tell the question has been on his mind.

“Hobi’s waiting for Namjoon to make a move.”

“Ha, that’s funny.”

“What?”

“Namjoon’s waiting for him to.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I honestly wish I was,” He chuckles, driving into your subdivision.

“It’s amazing how glaringly obvious the two of them are,” You sigh, “Hoseok made bracelets for him. Tell me that that doesn’t scream: ‘Oh hey, by the way, I like you!’”

“Yeah, Joon has so many pics of him on his Insta, you’d think they’d be dating by now…”

“They’re really, really oblivious.”

“Well,” He shrugs, taking a turn into your driveway, “It happens to the best of us.”

Jungkook walks out of the car, heads over to your door, and as usual he helps you out while reaching for your backpack and your cheer bag so he can carry them for you.

Clementine’s sitting in the kitchen, working diligently on her math homework.

“Tina!” Jungkook sings, setting down your bag on the couch. You walk over with him to her, and she has a bright smile on her face when she sees the two of you together.

“Hi!” She responds, “I’ve got something to tell you guys!”

“What is it?” You ask, sitting next to her and taking a peek at her worksheet. It’s something about fractions.

“I think I have a crush!”

“Holy-“ You stop yourself before you can say anything bad, “Uh, wow, Clem!”

“Yeah, wow…”

You and Jungkook look at each other with somewhat sad eyes. He may not have known her for as long as you have, but he feels the same, strange dull pain that you’re feeling in your chest.

Your little sister isn’t so little anymore.

Tonight was going to be a long one.

Late night conversations with Jungkook at your dormer window have become a regular thing.

It’s the moments where fatigue starts to really hit the two of you that you have the most fun with him. There’s no shame in what you say, and no judgement stemming from one another. During then, it’s just you, Jungkook, the occasional plate of pizza and snacks, and the moon.

“I can’t believe she has a crush already,” You muse, a hint of melancholy in your tone.

“She’s 12, Y/N.”

“That’s still too young, don’t you think?”

“How old were you when you had one?”

“I think,” You pause, sorting out your vague childhood memories, “In Kindergarten, maybe?”

“My point exactly.”

You curse under your breath as you’re obviously defeated. You hate when logic is used against you. Jungkook just laughs, performing his usual habit of rubbing his nose and jerking his head so his hair can stay out of his eyes. Both of you are leaning on either side of the alcove and the window is slightly open so that you can hear the regular music of crickets outside. A light gush of wind blows through, gently shifting around random strands of your hair.

Jungkook’s yet again scrolling through his phone, looking at funny memes on Instagram and sending them to the group chat titled: “Namjoon’s Angels” that he so cleverly named. Your phone buzzes multiple times, and when you turn it on, 4 notifications from the said group chat appear on your screen. They’re all from him. You look at the boy in front of you and he’s got a delighted smile on, eyes crinkled up into crescent moons while he’s so focused on whatever’s on his phone.

“We’re in the same room, Kook,” You say, showing your screen to him, and Jungkook’s a bit surprised at the nickname, but he quickly shoots you a fake glare before going back to his own phone.

“Those aren’t just for you, princess,” He retorts, tapping away on his screen, “Those are for Joon and Hoseok too.”

Your phone buzzes once more, and this time it’s a notification from just Jungkook.

[November 15, 10:40  PM] jeon.jk on Instagram *Sent a post* [November 15, 10:40 PM] jeon.jk on Instagram This one’s for you! :)

Upon opening the chat, you’re met with an obscure picture of-

[November 15, 10:41] y/nnnn_ beans? jeon.jk Beans.

You send him a questioning look, and Jungkook squeakily laughs, almost out of breath by how funny he thinks the picture is.

jeon.jk Do you not like it? I think it’s rather nice.

The most surprising thing you’ve discovered about Jungkook is that he’s quite the articulate texter, which is a weird juxtaposition from his usual character. It’s certainly the strangest thing you’ve known about him.

y/nnnn_ it’s quite off putting jeon.jk :(

“I’m right in front of you,” You declare, turning off your phone and putting it on the cushion. Jungkook rolls his eyes, but nonetheless does the same.

“But that’s no fun.”

“You’re so weird, you know that?”

“I like to think I’m pleasant to be around.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. He sticks his tongue out at you before looking out the window.

“Are you going to the football game tomorrow night?”

“Kook.”

“What?”

“I’m on the cheer team…”

“Oh,” His lips form a small, tight circle and then spread into a sheepish smile once he connects the dots, “You’re right.”

“Always am.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” He starts, “Anyways, did you get invited to the party after?”

“At Taehyung’s?” You ask, and he nods, “I did, yeah.”

“You gonna go?”

You bite your lip, deep in thought over the question. Hoseok got invited too, and he was begging you to go because you hadn’t talked to Namjoon enough, save for whenever he asks you where Hoseok is after school.

While it would be a good idea to come along and really start to get to know your best friend’s crush, you could already tell that it wouldn’t slide with your parents.

“There’d be no one to babysit Clementine,” You reason, “I mean I’d love to, but yeah…”

Jungkook visibly deflates, so much so that he looks like a cartoon character. You suppress a laugh, an apology coming out instead so that you don’t make him feel any worse.

“No, I get it,” He sighs, shoulders slumped down, “It’s no worries then. We’ll still see each other after the game, then, right?”

“If you really want to, sure.”

“I want to.”

You smile at him, and Jungkook mirrors you, a toothy grin flashing your way.

Your favorite moments with your unconventional, newfound friend are during the late nights, because of times like this. Around you and around him, the world is soft and light. There’s a calming simplicity when you’re talking to Jungkook, and your chest constantly feels light and fluttery. His lame jokes become funnier, and your words towards him become kinder.

Even though it’s dark, the nights seem to shed light on who the two of you really are and how you two really feel about each other.

There’s no malice, no ill intentions towards each other either. You like being there with him. Time isn’t an obstacle, which is something you’ve always felt slipped out of your hands like fine sand. The world just comes to a standstill, both of you trying to talk as much as you can before your parents come home.

For you, time has been a nuisance. You lose sleep while you hunched over your desk, working on assignments because the night is the only freetime you have. Because of that (and so that you can peacefully talk to Jungkook whenever he babysits), you simply just do your homework in the morning. Your alone time is always cut short, since you’re swamped with cheer, homework, and family obligations.

You hated how time ran out.

After all, your time with Jimin had run out.

But when you’re sitting on the cushion in your alcove with Jungkook, you slowly but surely start to adjust to the ever changing world around you. Sure, you feel guilty about constantly dumping your emotional baggage to someone you’ve just become friends with after two years of having pure hatred for them, but time and time again he’s always reassured you, telling you that he really didn’t mind you venting to him.

It’s not like Jungkook was your only option, since you always had Hoseok to rant to. But seeing Hoseok happy made you happy, and you didn’t want to ruin it by being a complete pity party.

So yeah, maybe Jungkook was the only option you had. You didn’t really mind either, since Jungkook had his fair share of problems that he’d talk to you about. There was no point in feeling bad at all, actually. There was a fair exchange of listening and venting between both sides.

You did find having an issue to restrain yourself around him. Everytime he spoke about his brother, you just wanted to jump into his arms and tell him everything was going to be okay. Even more so when his voice cracked and slowly turned into silent whispers and warbled mumbles. Your heart always broke when he would start blinking more and more so that his tears wouldn't come out. Sometimes, when things really got rough, he’d let a few ones fall, but he always followed it up with forced laughter and a strained smile.

It always made you wonder if he was hiding anything else from you.

“Wait, Y/N,” He says, raising a pointer finger up, “You can go to the party!”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you forget?” He asks, seeing how confused you are, “I’m Tina’s babysitter.”

“I didn’t forget that…?”

“I’m gonna be at the game, cause, y’know, I’m, yeah,” He explains, “Your parents are gonna have to stay at home regardless.”

You stare at him blankly as it registers in your head that there’s nothing stopping you from going to Taehyung’s infamous house parties.

“You’re right,” You mumble, “Sorry, I must be tired.”

“When’d you sleep last night?”

“Yesterday?” You stare up at the ceiling while you try to remember the other night, “4… I think?”

Jungkook shakes his head at you, ashamed.

“What’d I say about sleeping late?” He wags a finger at you, “You’re gonna ruin yourself if you keep doing that.”

“Okay, thanks, mom,” You snicker.

He then changes the topic, now complaining about the very same paper that you stayed up late to work on. You added on to his ranting, speaking your own mind as well.

The conversation is stopped abruptly when you hear knocking. Jungkook and you turn from each other to see your parents standing at the doorway. Neither of you had even heard the garage opening, or your parents walking upstairs.  

They’ve got tired, but happy smiles on their faces, and it comforts you knowing that they’re starting to iron out whatever issues they're going through. Your mom waves at you two and you echo her movements.

“Ah, I gotta go, then.”

Jungkook swiftly gets up from the alcove, grabbing his jacket that was resting on your desk chair. He greets you goodbye and then does the same with your parents, your dad walking him to the door. When both of the boys leave, your mom joins you, replacing Jungkook’s spot. She smells of steak and has a faint scent of wine about her. The relaxed, blissful state she’s in tells you that she’s intoxicated right now.

“Glad you had a fun night out,” You say, a soft smile on your lips.

“I quite like Jungkook,” She seems to not have heard your words, “Don’t you?”

“He’s nice, yeah.”

“He reminds me of your dad.”

She’s definitely a lot more drunk than you thought she was.

“Let’s get you in bed, mom,” You chuckle, standing up and helping her, “I think that’s enough for today.”

When you take her to her room and she staggers over to sit in her bed, you say goodnight to her. She responds, and you know very well that she’s most likely going to fall asleep with her dress on. You decide that your dad could handle that.

After getting ready for bed and crawling under your covers, your mind starts to wander, fixated on the idea of Jungkook and your dad being similar.

You can’t find a single distinct comparison between the two of them, but then your mind travels to the topic of your parents when they were younger. When they weren’t dating and they just knew each other as neighbors. Were they nice to each other?

Was there ever a time where they hated each other?

In between the many questions traveling through your mind, you start to enter the deep limbo of being half asleep and half awake. This doesn’t stop your curiosity about your parents story, as you see the two of them in your dreams. A young version of your mom bickering with your dad.

Then, it suddenly flashes to you walking with Jungkook in the hallways of high school, talking and bickering like you usually do.

Despite being heavily sleep deprived, you actually have a good night’s rest for once.

It’s Friday, which meant one thing and one thing only. It’s game day.

And although you complain about how sore your muscles are after practice and how you hate staying after school for so long, but when you’re sitting on the track, listening to the shouts from the student section and watching the football get tossed back and forth between players, you can’t help but be excited for halftime. You even become immersed in the sport, intently watching the boys tackle their way through the field. Half of the time you’re not completely sure about what’s going on, but you definitely were having fun sitting with Hoseok and watching the football teams brawl for a simple leather ball.

You had to admit it. There really was something magical about football games.

It was the way the grass smelt of rain and sweat, the way you could hear nothing but excitement from the crowds of students in the student section, the way that everyone was donning the school’s signature colors of purple and gold. The energy tonight is explosive, and you relish in every single section of it.

Your teammates are focused on the game and on themselves, making sure they remember the routines you have been practicing for months. But you, on the other hand, have separated yourself from the group of girls standing on the track and talking to each other. Instead, your focus is stuck on Jungkook.

Watching him on the field is like magic.

You don’t mean to, but your eyes follow him as he rushes past the opposing team, pushing past everyone effortlessly. He knows exactly when to keep the ball clutched closely to his chest or when to throw it to his fellow teammate, and he defends himself against the opposition, turning his back against them in order to protect himself from their tackles. It’s all like clockwork, like Jungkook could predict the other team’s movements. Even though you’re far from him, you notice the way he scans the field, so much so that you can see the gears turning in his mind. He’s got a whole map of the field and the teams in his head, creating a strategy right on the fly. All to get a touchdown.

Jungkook may be the big-headed goofball who used to enjoy annoying you, but he was a completely different person on the field. He’s someone determined and clever, and he doesn’t show off or become cocky when he’s on the field. Instead, he looks out for his own teammates and becomes a real leader.

You see this when Kim Taehyung, one of the running backs, gets tackled and crashes straight onto the turf, his helmet thudding quite loudly. Before Jungkook grabs the ball in Taehyung’s hands, he gives a quick tap on the running back’s helmet as a simple way of telling him that he’s doing a good job. To tell him to not give up and to get back on his feet. It’s a barely visible gesture that no one in the crowd would notice. It’s basically insignificant to… anyone, really. But you feel your heart soften when you figure out what the gesture meant.

Then you sit up, slightly, because his eyes meet yours and suddenly all the air in your chest has decided to leave. The crease in his eyebrows disappears and he’s beaming at you.

What amazes you is that Jungkook still has the ball secure in his hands, shoving his way through the hordes of players like they’re nothing.

You wonder what it’d be like to see Jungkook running up close. It’s hard to see from this distance, but you can see how the sheen of sweat glosses his skin. There was no doubt that he was muscular and you knew that, because you saw him every single day, but tonight his body is even more defined. They flex as he moves, biceps bulging because he’s clutching onto the ball so tightly.

You’re unaware of the way your thoughts travel to Jungkook being sweaty and hot on the field. Somehow it makes you feel like you’re betraying everything you’ve stood for by thinking like this, but instead of creating an even greater inner conflict between yourself and your conscience, you give up and continue to spectate the game.

(If by the game, you mean Jungkook.)

It isn’t until you decide to give him a small wave that he stumbles. He passes the ball to Kim Seokjin, the receiver, and quickly gets up on his own feet before he can fall on the ground. The opposition’s focus is now moved onto Seokjin, and so is Jungkook’s.

Seokjin reaches the end of the field. He scores a touchdown, and the crowd goes wild. The roaring sounds like music to your ears and you stand up, cheering along with your friends to congratulate your team. You beam when you see Jungkook running alongside the receiver, genuine grins on the boys’ faces. You feel proud, but you’re not entirely sure about what.

“We’re gonna kill it soon, Y/N!” Hoseok grins, and you mirror him, a happy smile on your face as well. He’s also too focused on memorizing the steps in his head to notice that you’ve been drooling over your little sister’s babysitter.

“I mean, duh,” You dramatically flip your hair over your shoulder, making the both of you giggle.

People say that cheerleading is such an outdated sport, but you actually loved it with your entire heart. You’ve created many lasting friendships with the girls (and Hoseok, of course) on your team, and the cheer squad was the exact reason why you had a somewhat reputation at school. It was basically the only thing that kept you going during the 3 years of high school you’ve gone through, and you’re sure that it’ll be the only thing keeping you sane for the rest of your years at this hellhole of a school.

Well, that was a topic for another day.

Because before you can have another existential crisis about the fact that you’re already on your junior year of high school—you haven’t figured out exactly what you want to do with your life—and that time has really slipped you by, the timer on the big, chunky, outdated metal screen ticks down. A bold, orange “0:00” appears, signalling that it’s halftime. The football teams slow down and head back to their respective sides, getting ready to take a break while the cheerleading squad gets ready for action.

When all of the boys are seated at their benches, some of them guzzling water or simply just catching their breath, you, Hoseok, and the rest of the girls make your way onto the turf. The speaker announces your team, staticky voice emitting from the speakers and filling the air.

It’s go time.

You all huddle in a circle, hyping yourselves up with team chants. It’s invigorating, being with all of your friends, getting ready to present the routine you had been trying to perfect for the past few months. You step into the circle, and the girls lift you up, throwing you up in the air. As you’re thrown, you let the force move you, your body twirling around. You land gracefully back into their arms, and the crowd goes wild once again.

The cheerleaders grab their pom poms that are lying on the turf and they get into position. Everyone places their hands on their hips, smiles forming on all of your faces as the crowd simmers down to get ready for the show. A beat starts from the drum line, and you all wave your pom poms in the air, the tinsel-like material sounding almost like rain as they swivel in circular motions. You scan the crowds, looking at all the different students sitting together.

Then your eyes meet, and your face falters.

Park Jimin is sitting in the bleachers, beaming at the Sophomore on the cheer team. You’re rudely reminded of her sitting on his lap in the back of his car, and your eyes become hazy as you try to save face.

“Don’t pay attention to him,” Hoseok whispers, “He’s not worth it.”

You nod, averting your focus from Jimin. This was the final football game of the season. You had to make the most of it, and you weren’t going to let him get in the way of it.

The cheer captain starts with a “5, 6, 7, 8,” and the rest of you follow her chants.

The routine starts with a high kick and a right punch up, followed with another high kick and then a strict order of arm positions along with a few more kicks that you all execute with style. Some of the girls move to the front, doing backflips to entertain the crowd. The flyers, bases, and spotters, get ready for extensions while the girls in the front keep the student section preoccupied.

Hoseok is assigned as one of your bases, and two other girls—a base and a back spotter—get into formation along with him. They lift you up carefully, steadying you right away as you're raised up. The other flyers are lifted up, too, and you sigh in relief knowing that everyone did their extensions easily. You flash bright smiles to the crowd and they all scream, cheering you on as well. Your combined shouts add even more energy to what was already an electric game.

The cheer is something cheesy about having more spirit than the other team, and the words are really cringy at points, but you don’t care. You’d shout them to the ends of the earth for all you cared. What mattered was the way the student section responded with almost double the enthusiasm. Kids are hollering, practically jumping out of their seats and yelling as they repeat the school’s signature lyrics. There’s nothing but pure excitement for the game, the football team, and the cheerleaders.

You’re lowered down for a few minutes by the bases only to be thrown up quickly. Keeping your stomach tight and your arms stiff, you fall back into the arms of the cheerleaders underneath you. It’s a perfect execution of a cradle, and you’re practically glowing with pride for your team. It’s obvious that the coaches would praise you all at the next practice. The crowd goes crazy for your team as well. Once you’re placed on the ground, it’s your turn to perform flips and high kicks, and you carry out the rest of the routine effortlessly.

Staring at the crowd, you take in how everyone is smiling at you and your team, impressed at the stunts you all pulled off in such a small time frame. Their eyes are shimmering with pride and you’re certain that their throats have gone raw from all their hoots and hollers. The night sky is painted black, but the atmosphere you’re in is far from dull. The crowds are colored purple and gold, matching your uniform and the football players’ uniforms. There are kids from different cliques, but they’re all sitting together and cheering, showing the solidarity a school could have.

You hold on to the moment for as long as you can, your chest heaving up and down as you pose confidently when the routine is done. Hoseok looks at you with immense pride and you do the same, both of you practically radiating out there on the field.

Eventually, halftime is over and you’re back to sitting on the track. You’re sweaty, but you don’t care. You know you did amazing and that was worth it.

A wave of uneasiness hits your chest when you see the sophomore rush over to her backpack to check her phone. She grins at her screen before running over to your coach, using some lame excuse so she can leave. After that, she rushes out, and you see Jimin following suit.

You plan to see what they’re doing, but Hoseok grabs your wrist, already knowing what you were going to do.

“Y/N,” His voice is stern, “I love you. Don’t.”

“But-“

“It’s not a good idea. You know that.”

“Yeah, I do.”

Some of your nerves fade away when Hoseok demands that you’ll get pictures with him, even if both of you are drenched in sweat. He reasons that it’s because you rarely have any pictures with him. But isn’t that the sign of true friendship? Not being able to have pictures because you’re either having too much fun together or the both of you look so ugly you can’t even bear to have a photo taken? You use that reasoning with Hoseok and he simply pinches your cheek, telling you that you’re insufferable and forcing one of your teammates to take your pictures.

When the game is almost done, the sophomore is nowhere to be seen.

You see your coach asking around the other girls, but they all respond with a shrug. Hoseok keeps you distracted by talking about the new friend group you’ve created with him, Namjoon, and Jungkook. Then, he starts to talk about Namjoon and the latest “date but not date” that they had last weekend. You realize you’ve never wanted to talk about Namjoon more than ever before.

While he’s gushing, you look at the photos you’ve taken with your best friend. A satisfied smile finds its way on your face when you see that they ended up a million times better than you thought it would. Hoseok also admires them while you swipe through the many new pictures in your camera roll.

“Told you it’d end up good.”

“Oh, whatever.”

You decide that you’d post your favorite ones, since you haven’t put anything new on your Instagram.

You tap on the app, planning to create a draft to post tomorrow. To your surprise, though, a new post from Jimin appears on your timeline. It’s a picture of the girl in his car. She has a bright smile on her face, her cheeks tinted a rosy pink.

Under the picture there’s a blue heart.

You’re reminded of all of the posts he had of you that had the exact same caption. You frown. Blue was your favorite color.

You go to his page, and all of your photos from before are gone. You’re frozen in your spot. Your mouth feels incredibly dry and a hard, rough lump forms in your throat. Your eyes start to sting, and the pain you thought you’ve forgotten about has come back twice as strong.

Hoseok notices this and you hand him his phone.

“Y/N… I’m so sorry.”

“I’m gonna,” You wipe your eyes and fan away the moisture so you don’t mess up your mascara, “I’m gonna go home after this.”

“Do whatever you need to,” He says, patting your head so you can rest your head on his shoulder, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You text your parents, asking them to drive you home.

The game is slow, dull, and boring, but after such an excruciatingly long wait, it finally ends. Once it’s over, you’re immediately walking out and making your way to your parents car. You ignore all of the students around you, pushing your way through them.

You also ignore Jungkook, who’s been running after you right when the game ends but loses you in the crowd.

When you come home, the car ride with your mom consisting of you breaking down and your mom comforting you, your mom quickly takes you to the bathroom, drawing a warm bath for you. She closes the door so neither Clementine or your dad can see the state you’re in, and she drops in a few drops of lavender into the steamy water. You hastily take off your uniform and your makeup, wanting nothing more than to get in the tub.

Shutting your eyes, you allow yourself to feel the warm water soaking your skin. The oil she added to the bath creates a pleasant scent to the steam, and your lips curve upward when you get a whiff of it. You rest your head against the edge of the porcelain surface, eyes getting hazy as the scent of lavender drowns out your senses. Your mother puts her hands through your hair, massaging your head with shampoo.

If your mother was being this gentle, this nice to you, then this was really serious.

When she plants a loving kiss on your forehead, humming sweetly, you feel your lip quiver. You were tired. This was your breaking point. You couldn’t take it anymore. Warbled, shrill sobs escape from your lips and you’ve lost all notions of self control. Your mom holds you close to her, indifferent to the soap suds and water soaking her shirt.

“Sometimes change is necessary for growth,” She says as you cry everything out.

“It hurts,” Your words come in between gasps.

“I know, darling, I promise you that you’ll find someone who truly deserves your love.”

“...Really?”

“Yes, and, you know, I already know one person who deserves it.”

“Who?”

“You.”

You hang onto every word she says, hoping that they’re actually true.

[November 16, 9:35 PM] Jungkook Hey, is everything okay? I tried talking to you after the game but I couldn’t find you Why is that? You don’t have to tell me, just wanted to know if you were okay I’ll tell Joon you say hi later tonight. He was really excited to hang out with you Sorry, I must be spamming your phone Anyways, just wanna say you did great tonight

Read at: 10:01 PM

[November 19, 4:02] Jungkook You didn’t show up to school today I think this is actually the first time you’ve skipped school Let me know if you need the homework or anything Read at: 4:10

You tap out of the conversation and put your phone face down on your nightstand. Tossing around in the bed, the sheets are uncomfortably hot around your sweaty skin. Your room is humid, since you’ve been doing nothing but lay in your bed for the past 3 days. Your eyelids slowly droop downward while you attempt to remove yourself from the throbbing pain in your head.

A slow, soft creak emits from your door. You open your eyes to see your sister, holding a tray with a cup of water and a grilled cheese sandwich. She still has her school clothes on.

“We ran out of soup,” She says, walking over to you.

You give her a weak smile, shifting over so she can sit next to you.

“Thank you, Clem.”

She sits up straight, expectantly watching you eat. She waits for your reaction, and your lips curve up naturally while you chew, she lets out the breath she’s unconsciously been holding in.

“Are you… doing okay?”

“I’ll be alright,” You nod, and then you roll up the sleeve of your hoodie to flex your bare arm, “Your sister’s strong.”

Clementine giggles and she leans back, resting her head on your shoulder. Her hair tickles your skin, but you don’t care. The grilled cheese in your mouth tastes absolutely amazing—most likely because you haven’t eaten anything since a bowl of soup yesterday.

“I never…” She starts, but then stops. You reassure her that she can tell you whatever she wants, and with a deep breath, she continues, “I never really… liked him.”

“Hm?”

“Jimin. I never liked him,” Her words lower into a nervous whisper. You wonder how long she’s been holding it in. She looks up at you once more, “Sometimes I could hear when you guys talked on the phone.”

Your initial response is to be angry, but there’s no point to. It wasn’t her fault that your rooms were so close to each other. Clementine scoots down so that she can rest her head on your chest, and you wrap your arms around her.

“He was kinda mean,” She sighs, “And I didn’t like how he talked to you.”

You nod. There was a truth in her words. You imagine what she thought hearing you cry behind a closed door, hearing you freak out because Jimin would end the call on you randomly when you mentioned Hoseok. Thinking back on it, Jimin was quite possessive when the two of you were together. Quite ironic.

“He’s like Gaston.”

“Gaston?”

“Yeah, full of himself,” She spits bitterly, and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen your sister speak negatively towards someone, “Only likes you ‘cause you’re pretty. Gets mad if you don’t give him something when he’s nice to you.”

Despite her dulled down description of Jimin, her words are a rude awakening for you. It’s as if you were roughly picked up and dropped into a cold, freezing bath, the frigid water creating an abrupt awareness of the reality of your past relationship. The reality was that Jimin was terrible to you, and no matter how many times you tried to label it nicely, tried to dumb it down so you yourself could swallow it easily, the truth is that whatever the two of you had wasn’t love.

It hits you that you really don’t know anything about love.

“You deserve someone better than Jimin.”

“You can say that again,” You chuckle, but Clementine cranes her neck and looks at you with burning eyes.

“No, I mean it,” She huffs, “He was terrible-“

“I know, I know, Clem,” You give her a light, reassuring smile, “But we’ll figure that out later, ‘kay? Right now it’s just you and me.”

“Yeah,” She relaxes, resting on you again, “I’d like that.”

You pinch her cheek before speaking again.

“So, you wanna tell me more about the new guy?”

She hides herself in your embrace instantly. Her new crush, Lucas, seemed quite nice from what she tells you.

The rest of your day is spent with Clementine over board games, movies, and cookies, and from how she eagerly spills out everything to you, you realize just how much she’s held from you, afraid to bother you since you “had a lot on her plate”. You secretly promise her that you’d be there for her more, that you’d forever be a shoulder to cry on for her from now on.

It’s almost funny, how a breakup forced you into having a better relationship with your sister.

When the night falls and you’re in Clementine’s room with her, ready to say goodnight, she musters enough courage to say something else to you.

“I like Jungkook.”

“I know, so does everyone,” You reply, suddenly remembering the multiple text messages from him that you’ve ignored.

Would he be upset with you? You decide that you’ll deal with that later.

“I like the way he looks at you.”

“What do you mean?” You questioningly state, taking the covers and putting it over her body. Even though she’s already 12, you don’t think you’ll ever stop tucking her in. She doesn’t object, either, eagerly accepting your advances and pulling the covers over so only her head pops out.

“He kinda,” She yawns, “He looks at you different.”

“Different?” You chuckle lightly, reaching out to turn off her lamp.

“Yeah,” She slowly closes her eyes, “Like how Dad looks at Mom.”

You freeze in place at her words, but then you quickly shake it off. She was most likely dreaming.

“You must be tired, Clem,” You mumble, “You should sleep.”

“Yeah, I should.”

You leave Clementine so she can sleep peacefully. With the absence of her around you comes the presence of an underlying issue that you never noticed was in your life.

When did Jungkook ever come into the equation?

Returning to your habit of tossing and turning around uncomfortably in your own bed, your mind tackles the notion of what your true feelings are for Jungkook.

Was he a bad person? Certainly not, from what you’ve learned. Were you guys friends? Yes, you were, obviously, from all the conversations you’ve had at your window.

Staring at said window, you imagine Jungkook sitting there, with his wide grin and his tousled, chestnut hair. You can almost smell the scent of his laundry detergent on your nose. His laugh rings in your ears, soft, breathy chuckles sounding almost like a melody to you. You think of all the times he’s walked you to your classes, dropping you off to your room before rushing on over to his own class that was on the other side of the building. He’s never told you, but you know that he’s always late to class because of you. This revealed itself because you’d see Jungkook hastily walking over to the attendance office to get tardy slips for his teacher.

You chuckle at the thought. It never registered in his head that the office was in the hallway of your 6th hour, so whenever he gets a slip you’ll see him pass by your doorway.

An image of Jungkook with Clementine flashes in your mind when you close your eyes. You see him dancing goofily with her to some Spanish song you’re not familiar with, all so that Clementine will be comfortable dancing around him. You take in how he smiles at her, how he looks at her so happily, and how he’s so eager to embarrass himself because he just likes seeing her laugh.

Then, when you close your eyes, you see Jungkook looking at you. His eyes are soft, and there’s something there you can’t really describe. It makes you feel safe, makes you feel like you can put your guard down around him. You notice that whenever your eyes meet his, there’s a bright, warm smile on his face.

A light, fluttery feeling hits your chest, but it’s far too faint for it to be significant, you think. You brush it off as something trivial. Jungkook was your friend, and that was that.

He was nothing more and nothing less, thank you very much.

[November 20, 12:30 AM] Y/N sorry for not texting back haven’t been feeling well i’ll be back tmrw, tho you got time to talk after school tmrw? we could get burgers or something [November 20, 12:31 AM] Jungkook Of course, yeah It’s no worries btw, Y/N Just wanna know you’re okay. I’m driving you I’m guessing? Y/N yeah there’s no one else who will, lol

Going back to school is a little rough, and although you only missed one day, you were already toppled with absent work and new lessons that you had to teach yourself.

But every worry seemed to disappear when you finally got to the diner with Jungkook. During this, you explain everything to him, stuffing your mouth with the fries that you loved so much. Jungkook listens to every single word you say, gnawing down on his bowl of mac n’ cheese.

“That’s so shitty of him.”

You can sense the anger in his tone.

“Yeah, I don’t know,” You shrug, pulling your strawberry smoothie close to you so you can take a sip, “Not my place anymore.”

Jungkook redacts what he was about to say, only nodding as to make sure he doesn’t speak over you.

“Sorry about not responding,” You mumble, and he shakes his head profusely.

“No, no, I get it,” He smiles fondly at you, “Don’t be sorry. I’m here for you, okay?”

It amazes you how understanding he can be. Seems like just yesterday he was chewing gum obnoxiously in your ears, blowing bubbles and popping them in hopes that the sound would destroy your eardrums.

Jungkook fills you in on what you had missed yesterday, already offering to help you if you need any help. The two of you spend the time at the diner talking about anything and everything, and things somewhat feel normal for once.

You wish that everything could stay just like this in the diner, where Jungkook is sitting in front of you, cracking lame jokes left and right and you’re laughing so hard that you can’t even be bothered to breathe anymore.

A few weeks pass, and you’ve slowly started to adjust to the “new normal” of your life. But this was only because you had such amazing friends to help you out whenever you saw Jimin with his new girlfriend. Hoseok has been there for you and always will be, Jungkook constantly has new jokes up his sleeve that he’s constantly waiting to use, and even though you’re not that close with Namjoon just yet, you’ve learned just how kindhearted he is.

This is because when you told him the whole story of you and Jimin, he started sending you pretty flowers every single day. Those were Namjoon’s “cheer up” texts that gave you a soft comfort when you received them.

Slowly but surely, your regular diner dates with Hoseok have turned into full on hangouts with the other two boys. Jungkook would drive you, while Namjoon would take Hoseok. Usually, though, your hangouts would consist of you and Jungkook losing your appetites over how sweet Namjoon and Hoseok are to each other. There wasn’t one time where Jungkook wouldn’t roll his eyes to you when Namjoon would compliment Hoseok’s hair, and you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve lost it over Hoseok pinching Namjoon’s cheek whenever he teases him.

It’s still a complete shocker to the both of you that they’re only friends.

But you honestly wouldn’t change your new friend group for the world. Albeit sort of dysfunctional and unconventional, you all worked together nicely.

Things slowly came together piece by piece, and you felt that maybe your life would continue on peacefully, just how you wanted it to.

However, today is different.

After school, Hoseok asks you if the two of you can hang out one on one, just like before, and of course you agree, because you had to admit that you did miss spending time with just him. So you expect it to be a fun filled Friday afternoon with Hoseok. Maybe you’d hear him rant about Namjoon being clueless for the umpteenth time without ever acknowledging how oblivious he is himself.

What you expect, however, is very different from your reality, because when Hoseok and you walk out of the school building and into the parking lot, you’re met with a pretty sizable crowd. There’s kids, mostly boys, pointing their cameras and you hear multiple shouts and cheers from the crowds.

You’re about to stealthily dodge the crowd and head over to Hoseok’s car, but then a gap forms in between a few students and your jaw hits the ground.

“Fuck you,” Jungkook spits, his familiar voice confirming your suspicions.

The other boys spur him on, yelling out incoherent words that you can’t decipher. You grab Hoseok by the wrist and pull him over to the crowd.

Getting a closer look at the scene, you and Hoseok give each other a scared, concerned glance. Jungkook has Jimin on the pavement, landing multiple brutal punches across his face. Jimin, whose eyes have turned hazy, has blood coming out of his nose, and if Jungkook lands one last punch, Jimin is bound to have a broken nose (if he already didn’t).

It’s a good thing, though, that the principal suddenly appears, pushing past everyone and splitting the two boys up. Jungkook and Jimin are both sitting up now, tattered and beaten down. Jungkook wipes away the blood on his mouth, while Jimin tries to catch his breath, his chest heaving up and down heavily. His face is screwed up in agony and you wince upon seeing the newly formed black eye that he’s sporting.

Jungkook doesn’t look any better either. He’s got bruises all over him, and a handful of deep cuts and scrapes from falling on the ground. He has blood on his sweatshirt, and you can’t tell if it’s his or Jimin’s.

The crowd disperses, students not wanting to get involved with the authorities. You and Hoseok stay, however, because Namjoon appears out of nowhere, his arms crossed and a tired look on his face while he assesses the damage. The principal pulls them away by their collars in order to create distance from the three of you standing there. Once there’s a reasonable space between all of you, he begins to mouth them off.

“He made jokes about it but I never thought it’d happen,” He sighs, rubbing his temples, “I got the principle once I saw what was going on. I was too late.”

“What’s gonna happen?” You ask, voice coming out in a weak whisper.

“They’ll both be expelled for a little bit,” Namjoon strokes his chin.

“Expelled?” Hoseok gasps in disbelief, “Don’t you mean suspended?” 

“The fight’s on school grounds, and they were both deliberately violent,” Namjoon explains, “If Jungkook had only made a threat to do it, then he’d be suspended. Expulsions last much longer than suspensions, based on what the principal will think is a fit punishment for the kids.”

Leave it to Kim Namjoon to know the school’s rulebook like the back of his hand.

“What’ll happen with sports?”

“Now that, I’m also not entirely sure,” Namjoon answers, and you can see the gears turning in his head, “Let’s hope the coaches will even be willing to talk to them.”

Jungkook makes eye contact with you and although he’s tired, he seems to have sobered up. You stare at him with shocked, disappointed eyes, and he looks down at his feet, like a dog who just got scolded by his owner. He rubs his nose, taking a deep breath and choosing to just listen to what the principal has to say.

What could have possibly compelled Jungkook to beat Jimin into a pulp?

The next night you see Jungkook at your door, the bruises and cuts on his skin somewhat faint, but still apparent.

“Um, hi,” His eyes bounce around from you then to the ground, “Listen, Y/N, I-“

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You hiss at him, coming out of the house and closing the door behind you.

“What?”

“Don’t you realize what you did yesterday?” You say, “Because of that you got fucking expelled!”

“That’s what I was here to talk about,” He explains.

“There was literally no reason for you to do that, Kook.”

“Y/N, if you were there, you’d understand.”

“No, Jungkook, no,” You shake your head, “I get it, Jimin’s an asshole. That doesn’t mean you need to beat him up for it!”

“Y/N,” He sighs, visibly irritated, “If you would just let me tell you why-“

“There’s no point, Jungkook!” You throw your hands up in the air while you yell at him, “You’re expelled! Do you even know if you can play football anymore?”

He bites his tongue, giving you a perfect answer.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Y/N,” He grabs your wrists, forcing you to look at him, “If you had just heard the things he said about you, you’d get it. Please, I just wanted to talk to you and apologize. Please don’t be mad at me. I didn’t mean to.”

He’s pitiful before you and you feel your anger rise.

“Y/N, he said such shitty things about you.”

“I don’t give a shit!” You retort, pulling away from him,  “I don’t need you beating up people for me, Jungkook. Do you really think I’m that weak?”

His eyes widen and he’s at a loss for words.

“No, Y/N, I never said that,” He reasons, “I just didn’t want him to talk about you like that anymore. You guys aren’t even together anymore. I was fed up.”

“Don’t you think there’s other ways you could handle that? Maybe you could, I don’t know, ignore it?”

“Y/N, please,” He pleads, exasperated, “I know this sounds stupid, but I really couldn’t handle it. I’m sorry, I just-“

“Do you really think I’m that helpless?” You scoff, “That I can’t handle when someone speaks of me badly? That you have to do everything for me?”

“No-“

“There’s something wrong with you.”

“I know,” He mumbles, “I couldn’t control my anger.”

“Yeah, that’s apparent,” You deadpan, crossing your arms, “I don’t need you to fight my fights for me, Jungkook. That’s not how it works.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t,” You spit, “If you had known that, then you wouldn’t have done anything.”

It’s an awkward position to be in, fighting with Jungkook at your front porch in the middle of a cold, December night, but you’re too heated to care. You ignore how you can see your breath come out in a light fog whenever you speak.

There’s a thin covering of snow everywhere, and you’re glad that you consistently wear a hoodie and sweatpants as pajamas in both summer and winter. Some snowflakes are resting on Jungkook’s head, leaving delicate white, sparkling dots in his hair. Matched with his red nose and red ears, you’d almost say he was adorable if you weren’t cussing him out right now.

“Why would you even think that was okay? Why would you do that?”

“Y/N… I…” He sputters out, “I just…”

“You just what? You think I’m so weak that I can’t handle my own problems?” You roll your eyes, “You’re unbelievable, Jungkook. You really think that I’m that weak?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“You don’t get it do you?” He scoffs.

“What do you mean?”

“I did it because I couldn’t stand to hear him talking shit about you.”

“Why couldn’t you? It’s not your issue. It’s mine, and quite frankly-“

“It’s because I’m in love with you, Y/N!” He yells out, then coughs once his confession registers in his head, “I couldn’t… I didn’t want to hear him anymore.”

HIs words make your breath catch in your throat. Your heart stops, and Jungkook stares up at you nervously. You step away from, shaking your head profusely.

“No, you’re not,” You breathe out, “You’re really not.”

“I know it’s super wrong to say this now, I just,” He scratches the nape of his neck, “I guess I felt that I needed to tell you.”

“You barely even know me,” You say, and you can’t explain why tears well up in your eyes. You wipe them away, “Go home, Jungkook. It’s late.”

You’re about to go back into the house but Jungkook’s words make you stop dead in your tracks.

“I know that you’re ass at drawing,” He prompts, “You’re also shit at singing, but you do both anyways, because you think it’s fun.”

“Kook-“

“You say that you don’t do much in your freetime, but I know that you spend all of your time hanging out with Tina whenever you can, because you care about her that much,” He states, “I also know that you secretly really like Monopoly, even though you’re fuckin’ clueless on how to play it. Most of the time you go bankrupt, but even then you’re happy playing that. You’re the only person I know who’s like that.”

You’re speechless as Jungkook begins to list off specific details about you that even you don’t know.

“You always try to twirl your pencil in class, but every single time you get embarrassed when you drop it on your desk and everyone looks at you.”

“Jungkook, don’t do this,” You turn around, “Listen, you don’t know what it’d be like to be with me. You wouldn’t like it.”

“Who says that?”

“Me,” You say, “I’m still confused about everything. It’d be bad for both you and me. And plus, what if I’m not over Jimin? You wouldn’t want that. You wouldn’t like being with me.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Huh?”

“Because I’m set, Y/N,” Jungkook declares, “From the moment I really got to know you, I figured that I wanted you for the rest of my life. And I’ll wait for you for as long as you need me to.”

“There’s no way you can be so sure.”

“I can feel it, Y/N,” His words are desperate as he tries to reason with you, “It’s different with you. I’m different when I’m with you. I’m happy.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I do know, Y/N!” He shouts, “I’ve spent so many nights trying to figure out why the fuck I think about you so much until I eventually realized it. I wouldn’t have told you if I wasn’t sure about my own feelings.”

“You’re wrong, Jungkook.”

“Can you stop?” He snaps, “Stop belittling my feelings. Stop acting like you know shit about love, because you don’t. Your only relationship was with an asshole who cheated on you and talks shit about you even though he’s with another girl.”

Jungkook’s right. He’s absolutely right. You’re reflected on it, too. But you can’t help but become enraged when the truth comes out of his mouth.

“I don’t know shit about love?” You laugh bitterly, “Yeah, I don’t. And Jimin was an asshole. But you don’t know anything about love either.”

“At least I know what I deserve and what you deserve,” He says, “If you could just give me a chance to show you-“

“Show me what love is?” You interrupt, “Jungkook, how can you? Your own brother doesn’t even love you!”

You struck a chord, and you see that right when the words come out of your mouth. It’s only during then that you realize that using facts in your arguments aren’t always the best thing. Jungkook gawks at you in disbelief, his mouth ajar.

“I.. Jungkook, I’m really sorry. Stuff like that isn’t your fault,” You open the door and step inside, “I think that just shows we’re not good together. You should go home. It’s late. Goodnight, Jungkook.”

After that night and once Jungkook is done with his (mercifully given) 10 day expulsion, he finds a way to avoid you at all costs at school, going as far as to even switch seats with someone in the one class you have together. Your supposed “long lasting” friend group had ultimately split up, you and Jungkook giving each other the cold shoulder while Hoseok and Namjoon tried to find a good balance of seeing each other and you guys at the same time.

Jungkook no longer drives you home, and there’s now an empty seat at the dinner table that looms heavily on your conscience. Clementine hasn’t said anything, reassuring you that she’s happy just being with you, but you know that she’s having a hard time dealing with the situation as well.

His name is omitted in your house, and no one in your family asks about him.

Well, until now.

Because when your mom sits with you on your bed, asking what really happened, you cry once more in her arms, the guilt finally pushing you past your breaking point again. You tell her everything, and she holds you close, hushing you while you cry.

“Why were you so upset with him?”

“I don’t… I don’t know,” You say as you think about it.

“Do you still have feelings for Jimin?”

You reevaluate your sentiments toward Jimin, and what used to be feelings of love and pain have simply withered away into disgust.

“No…? I don’t think so.”

“So what was the real reason?”

“I guess… I guess it’s because he was expelled and that means he could be off the team. He shouldn’t be risking that for me,” The words come out of your mouth almost involuntarily, as if they’ve been waiting to reveal themselves to you, “And the fact that he says that he’s in love with me when he hardly knows me… It was such a stupid fight and I feel terrible.”

You hide your face in your hands, thinking about what you’ve said to the poor boy.

“Are you in love with him?”

Something stirs in your heart, and it scares you.

“I can’t tell anymore.”

“Well, only you know what’s best for you, and you’ll figure it out. We’ll be here every step of the way,” Your mom assures you, “Can I just say one thing, though?”

You nod.

“When two people argue over something that’s considered stupid or trivial,” She starts, “That usually means they actually care about each other the most.”

[December 19, 8:09] Clem Y/N Can you come pick me up from Charlotte’s pls? I wanna go home Y/N why? is everything ok? Clem Please just pick me up I wanna go home I don’t like birthday parties anymore

“Hey, mom,” You rush over to her, showing her your phone. In an instant, you’re driving over to Clementine’s friend’s house. Once you reach the place, you knock on the door, and upon meeting the parents, you say that you need to pick up Clementine for an “urgent reason”.

It isn’t until she closes the car door and your mom starts driving that she breaks down in tears.

“What’s wrong?” You ask immediately, and once she regains her composure she responds.

“They made me,” She gasps, “They made me tell Lucas that I like him. H-He made fun of me and rejected me in front of everyone.”

You and your mom look at each other with sad, knowing eyes.

Looks like there’d be a warm bath and a lot of tough conversations for Clementine in the near future.

While you mope around and recharge your mental battery during heartbreak, it turns out that Clementine does the exact opposite. She overworks herself in order to distract herself from the fact that she’s devastated.

You take note of this when you come downstairs and you’re hit with the smell of chocolate chip cookies for the sixth time this week. They’re your favorite, but if Clementine bakes any more, you’re bound to get sick of them.

You ignore that and grab a cookie anyway, shoving it into your mouth with delight.

“Do you like it?” Clementine asks, nervous. You nod, and she beams at you.

For something as simple as chocolate chip cookies, Clementine sure does put a lot of pressure on herself to make them perfect.

“Seok’s coming over later tonight,” You attempt to make conversation while she’s already looking through her phone for a new recipe to try.

“Ah, really? That’s great! I miss him,” She smiles, “I actually, um, I have plans today too.”

“Really? With who?”

“Mom already knows,” She says rather quickly, “I’m going out with a friend to dinner.”

Despite your curiosity gnawing away at you, urging you to ask her who this friend is, you stay quiet. This was something she needed, and if your mom was okay with it, then things should be fine.

Leaving the kitchen, you go upstairs to take a nice, long shower.

“Y/N?” You hear Clementine’s muffled voice behind your door.

“It’s open.”

She steps in, and you stare at her in awe. She’s wearing a light blue, off-the-shoulder dress and from the looks of it, your mom has done her makeup beautifully. Her hair is curled, waves gently framing her face. She fidgets with the silver clutch purse in her hands shyly, while she feels your gaze on her.

“Do I, um,” She gulps, “Do I look okay?”

“You look beautiful.”

She gets even shier, sporting a soft smile on her face. While she looks amazing, she still is unsure of herself, standing awkwardly as she tries to get used to wearing such nice clothes. You feel a touch of pain that comes along with the swell of pride in your chest when you see how beautiful your sister is. It’s such a shame, seeing how fast time flies.

“Do you know which shoes would look good with this?” She asks, “I don’t think my sneakers aren’t really ideal.”

“Oh, definitely not,” You tease, getting up from your bed, “We’re almost the same shoe size, right?”

“Pretty much.”

“Okay, you can borrow my flats then,” The two of you make your way to the shoe closet, and you crouch down to sort through the piles of dress shoes, “Unless you want heels?”

“Oh, no thank you,” She spews out, and you laugh. Even under all the makeup and fancy dresses you could put Clementine in, you could never change who she really is.

You grab a pair of light beige ballet flats. They’re rounded at the tip and have a black section at the too. There’s a thin, dainty elastic bow on both of them, and when Clementine sees them, she falls in love. Of course, you knew right away that she’d like them. There was no use in having her try on other flats.

“Thank you so much, Y/N!”

“Anytime.”

There’s a bright smile on both of your faces, and your conversation is interrupted when Clementine’s phone ring.

“Oh, I’ve gotta go,” She says, leaning in to press a kiss in your cheek, “Bye, Y/N!”

“Bye, Clem. Be safe.”

“I will!”

And with that, she’s out of the door and you’re left by yourself on this frigid Friday evening. You sigh, slouching down into the couch and turning on the TV. You can’t seem to remember a day in your life where you’ve been by yourself like this, both your parents and Clementine off to dinner at some fancy places you don’t know.

For the hundredth time this evening, you check the time.

 7:23. 

Hoseok would be here any minute, but right now you’re left to your own device.

It’s during then where your thoughts start to travel to the mess of your own life.

You mindlessly watch the cartoons that are playing on your screen while you reflect on your past mistakes. Jungkook continues to flash into your mind and you can’t help but wince every 2 or 3 minutes when you’re rudely reminded of your harsh words towards him. You cover your face in your hands, regretting every single moment of your life up till now. There was nothing that was going to bring back your friendship with Jungkook.

Why did you care so much? You shake your head as you try to sort out the discordant jumble of your emotions. There was no reason to care. You had only really gotten to know Jungkook this year. If someone was able to develop feelings for you that quickly, then certainly they weren’t real. Maybe Jungkook is in love with the idea of you. Or he’s incredibly bored and mistakes feelings of friendship for being in love. That’s usually how things play out.

So why were you bothered so much?

Why did you keep checking your phone to see if he would ever text you? Even now you’re tapping into your conversation with him, waiting to see if he’d type something out. Without thinking, you type a simple “I’m sorry” out. The words glare back at you, asking you why the fuck you haven’t sent them to him yet. You let out a tired sigh and delete them.

Although it’s childish, your mind’s first defense is to tarnish your version of Jungkook’s image. Jeon Jungkook was, in his core, a conceited, good-for-nothing quarterback who cared about no one else except for himself.

You groan, hitting yourself. Every single word in that statement isn’t true.

“What the fuck,” You whine to nobody in particular, curling up into a ball.

Why did Jungkook have to force his way into your life like that? Jungkook with his stupidly soft brown hair and his annoyingly pretty eyes. With his kind smile and laugh that you’d love to record and just hear on repeat for the rest of your days. Jeon Jungkook, the person you’d never expect to be your new best friend, but here he was, just popping up out of nowhere and disappearing without a trace. You curse his name over and over again. Why couldn’t you get his face out of your mind?

His infuriatingly attractive face and his built frame that always makes an appearance, no matter how loose his clothing is. It’s a whole repeat of the other night, where all your senses, all your thoughts, are nothing but him.

You hear his laughter. How it’s so sweet, so soft. You see the way his eyes crinkle up into pretty little crescent moons, how his toothy grin makes yet another appearance into your mind. How his eyes look so endearingly at you, like you could do no wrong in his sight. You think about reaching out to him. Maybe for a hug? You’re not so sure. All you can think about now, though, is how warm his embrace probably is. He’s always gentle with Clementine. There’s no doubt that he’s gentle and kind towards you now, too.

How would he look, laying next to you in bed? How would he look in the morning? Would he have even messier hair? Sleepy eyes? A lazy smile across his lips? Would he—

The doorbell rings, literally saving you from the grave you’re digging yourself. It wakes you up from your thoughts, making you realize that you shouldn’t be thinking of a friend like this.

You run over to the door, and when it’s open, you’re suddenly engulfed in Hoseok’s arms. You almost topple over, Hoseok being quite taller than you and stronger. He’s got a giddy grin on his face, and it looks like he’s just received the best news of his life. You have a confused, although happy smile on your face as well.

“Y/N, I’ve got so much to tell you!”

“Let me go make some popcorn,” You say, excited to hear the good news, “You got the movies, right?”

Hoseok takes off his backpack and pulls out three DVD cases.

“Obviously.”

They’re all cheesy rom-coms that are supposedly targeted towards teenagers, but are made by adults that apparently haven’t talked to a teenager in their life, despite having been one a few years earlier. That makes the movies all the better, though, because Hoseok and you like to take your time to nitpick all of the flaws in every single one. It’s a nice pastime with your best friend.

“Well, let’s get to it then!”

For the first time in forever, you can’t wait to torture yourself by watching shitty chick flicks with Hoseok.

“He did what?” 

“He kissed me, Y/N! He kissed me!” Hoseok squeals, and he almost drops the bowl of popcorn on his lap. 

The terrible movie is long forgotten.

“In the rain?” You ask, equally as excited, “Holy shit, Hobs, that’s like a movie!”

“I know,” He can’t wipe the grin off his face, “I was so mad at him before, ‘cause like, he just wouldn’t do anything! But then he kissed me out of nowhere!”

He‘s head over heels, dramatically leaning into the couch while pressing the back of his hand to his forehead, an over exaggerated performance of a faint.

“I feel like I’ve been struck by Cupid!”

“I think you’ve been like that a long time ago.”

“Shut up.”

“Just sayin’.”

Hoseok angrily grabs a handful of popcorn and shoves it in his mouth, the popcorn squeaking and crunching between his teeth.

“I hate that you’re always right.”

“Well, that’s not so true anymore…”

Your head hangs low, your vision on the screen now on your own bowl of popcorn. You grab a handful for yourself, using the action of chomping as a way to preoccupy yourself from the guilt.

“Hey, listen,” Hoseok wraps an arm around you and you rest on him, “It was in the heat of the moment.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

“Okay, maybe you’re right there,” He chuckles, “But, hey, no one’s perfect. Jungkook was out of line. So were you. Stuff like that happens.”

“Why do I care so much?” You sigh, dejected.

“Because you like him,” He hums, almost nonchalantly.

“W-What?”

“You like Jungkook, Y/N.”

You stay silent, and Hoseok lifts you off of him so he can grab you by the shoulders.

“...Do you seriously not know?” His brows furrow, and you stare at him blankly.

“I think you might be wrong there, bud,” You give him a questioning look.

“Y/N, I love you. You’re an idiot.”

He stands up, and you’re still dumbfounded at his words. Hoseok reaches over to the coffee table and takes your phone. He clicks it on, the brightness causing you to squint. You take a mental note to stop having the brightness setting so high all the time. Once your eyes adjust to the lighting, you’re met with an image of Jungkook standing next to you in the living room, his arm around you while the both of you smile at the camera.

He’s got a tiara on and you have a fairy wand and a scratchy tutu wrapped around your waist, the tight elastic causing your t-shirt to bunch up in thick wrinkles. You involuntarily giggle to yourself when you see the picture. After playing a few board games with Clementine one night, she wanted to go into the attic and dress the two of you up in her old Halloween costumes. Of course, wanting to entertain her, the both of you granted her wishes.

And as if on cue, the smile from ear to ear that you’re sporting has dawned the realization on you.

“We’re just friends…”

“Y/N. I know you. You’ve been a bitch before. Without remorse,” Hoseok sighs, shaking his head.

“Hey!”

“All I’m saying is,” He puts his hands up in surrender, “Y/N, you know how good you are in arguments when you’re angry. You almost never feel bad when you use your words.”

“Okay, I’m not that bad-“

“Y/N,” He asserts, “Remember last year when you cussed that one Freshman out ‘cause he threw a french fry at me?”

“Yeah…”

“You went out of your way to sit down next to him and then proceed to tell him that if he disappeared, no one would notice.”

“I said that?” Your voice has only now become a pathetic little squeak.

“Yes, yes, you did,” He waves his hand after he speaks, “We’re getting off topic. What I’m telling you right now is that you’re blunt. Incredibly blunt. Like, holy shit, how can you say that? type of blunt.”

“I got that, but-“

“Not done,” He shoves the phone in your face even more, as to prove a point, “As we’ve seen before, you forget half of the crap you say. You never feel bad.”

You huff, not sure if you want to hear what Hoseok’s about to say next.

“Look at yourself right now. You’ve been moping over one sentence you’ve said to one boy for how long?” He wags the phone around, further emphasizing the said point, “And now you see one picture of him and you’re giggling like a dumbass.”

You sink back into the couch, the weight of everything hitting you way too strongly, too quickly.

“Well, let’s just say I did like him-“

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Just, just hear me out, okay?” You beg, and Hoseok tosses your phone on the table before slumping down on the couch, “So let’s say I did like him. Don’t you think I would’ve known by now?”

“Holy- Jungkook was right when he said you didn’t know shit,” Hoseok’s so close to losing it and killing you, “Have you seen the way you look at him?”

“No?”

“You’re insufferable,” Hoseok groans, whipping out his phone and scrolling through his camera roll. He taps on a video and he shows it to you.

On his screen, you’re sitting in the front passenger seat while Jungkook drives, both of you screaming out the songs on the radio from the top of your lungs. It was some cheesy song both of you hated but knew all of the lyrics to. You examine yourself in the video. When you look at Jungkook, there’s—yet again—another bright smile on your face, and there seems to be a twinkle in your eye. You cringe at yourself, hearing your voice and seeing just how wide your smile is, which causes your cheeks to puff up unflatteringly.

A hand reaches to your face when you notice how chubby it is.

“Where and how did you take that?”

“Remember when Joonie’s car broke down and we had to ride with you losers?”

“Oh.”

You think about that day. It was oddly suspicious as to how quiet they were in the car. Usually, Hoseok would’ve been nervously mouthing Namjoon’s ear off by then.

“Need I say more?”

You almost feel betrayed. Betrayed by how blind you’ve been, how stupid you’ve been.

“Well, it’s a lost cause,” You lament, “I fucked everything up. He probably doesn’t care about me anymore.”

“Not exactly.”

Hoseok swipes out of his camera roll and goes into Snapchat. He slides over to the Stories section and taps on one of the small circles. You’re met with yet another truth revealing image.

Took this kiddo out since some meanie broke her heart ;(

The translucent black bar almost laughs while Clementine smiles back at you—or, the camera, at least. She’s wearing the light blue dress from before and her hair has slightly gone flat, but is still quite wavy. There’s a huge plate of spaghetti before her, and she’s holding onto her fork with anticipation.

“If he didn’t care, why would he take the time to take Tina out tonight? He could’ve ignored her reaching out to him.”

While he is extremely right, you’re more focused on the situation itself.

“Why didn’t she tell me it was him taking her to dinner?”

Yet another betrayal tonight.

“I dunno, maybe it’s ‘cause you probably would use those pretty little words of yours towards her.”

“Am I really that scary?”

“Not all of the time,” He says, “But that’s ‘cause Jungkook makes you less high strung.”

“Hey, I’d watch what you’re saying right now-“

Hoseok wraps his arms around you, and he lets out a shaky, forced laugh. You don’t hug him back, but instead you let his embrace cool you down.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Anyways, more important than you planning out my funeral in your head right now,” He continues, “This is perfect for you.”

“What? The fact that my sister is going out on a date and I’m not is perfect?”

“No, no, you really are clueless, aren’t you? You poor, poor little girl,” He sighs, “This is a perfect opportunity for you to make amends with Wonder Boy tonight!”

“He just cares about Clem, not me, Seok,” You pout, “It’d be nice to, but he probably hates me.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re also wrong!”

Once again, Jung Hoseok is pulling out receipts left and right with the sole purpose of proving you wrong. He goes into his text conversations and taps on a group chat between him, Namjoon, and Jungkook. You squint at the title.

“Therapy from Y/N’s Stubborn Ass?”

“Poor kid named it, not me!”

You roll your eyes, scrolling through the conversation. An odd clump of texts from Jungkook shine out to you the most. They’re all from the night of you messing up your friendship with him.

[December 6, 12:54 AM] Jungkook (Namjoon’s Stalker) I feel like I’m going insane I know I should be mad at her And I’m sure when I think about it properly, I will be But for some reason I don’t?

“Nice name for Namjoon.”

“Shut up and read the fucking texts before I lose it.”

[December 6, 12:55 AM] Joon Bug <3 Maybe you’re just tired, that was a lot to take in Hoseok yeah, but also try not to take it too hard. y/n’s kind of just like that. she thinks before she speaks and she gets way too angry for her own good. even more so if she cares about you.

“No need to call me out like that.”

“Trust me, Y/N, you needed to hear it eventually.”

[December 6, 12:54 AM] Jungkook (Namjoon’s Stalker) Yeah, you’re right It’s kind of cute, isn’t it?

The rest of the conversation is Jungkook praising you, adoring how “strong” you could be and how cute you were when you got upset. It’s a complete shift in mood from seconds ago, and obviously the reaction you were not expecting. The same fluttery feeling becomes stronger in your chest, so much so that it’s too obvious to ignore. You throw the phone back to Hoseok, not being able to cope with the heaping amounts of new information you’ve received.

“What time do you think they’ll get here?” You murmur.

“Soon enough,” Hoseok sighs again, this time in relief, knowing that you were finally going to listen to him.

You decide to ease some of your nerves by actually watching the movie, pinpointing the many beautiful flaws of the characters and the stories.

“Y/N?” You feel someone shake you, “Y/N? Wake up.”

You croak some incoherent grumbles, rubbing your puffy eyes. You cautiously open one of them, gauging how bright the lights are. Once you’ve adjusted, you blink to see Clementine above you. You sit up from Hoseok, who you’ve been leaning on for the past few hours and who’s still sound asleep.

Who knew criticizing three romance movies back to back would make you so tired?

“Hi, Clem,” You yawn, stretching out your arms, “How was dinner?”

“Great,” She giggles, “I actually have something for you, and you might be mad at me for it.”

“What is it?”

“Well, it’s more of a who, than a what.”

You nod, as Clementine helps you get up from the couch. In your sleep ridden daze, you forget about your urgency to talk to Jungkook and you also don’t recognize that she’s pulling you from your arm and walking you out the door. You only realize it when a brisk wind slaps you harshly in the face, causing your hair to become even more tangled than before.

Before you know it, you’re standing in front of Jungkook on your driveway and Clementine is running back into the house to find refuge in your best friend.

He’s dressed in a simple black suit, a white dress shirt neatly tucked into his pants. The thin, breathable fabric is tight against his skin, further showing just how built he is for his age. The scars and bruises have faded away completely, but you do see a bandage or two when his sleeve rolls up to scratch his nose or fix a piece of hair that’s out of place. His hair is neatly combed into a middle part, some of the hair fanning over his eyes. His hands are now shoved in his pockets, and he’s staring down at you, waiting for you to say something.

Small is probably the best way to describe how you feel when you’re in his presence right now. Underdressed, too, maybe, as you’re only clad in an old hoodie that has the name of a college you’ve never heard of, some thick, baggy sweatpants, and a pair of bunny slippers. Not to mention how messy your hair is and how your face is still puffy from the deep sleep you were in mere minutes ago.

“Um… Hi,” You wince once you hear how scratchy your voice is. This certainly is doing wonders for your image.

“Hey,” He responds, hesitant as well.

You bite your lip, trying to find the right words to say. You plan to confess to him, right here and right now, but another harsh wind hits you, causing you to shiver and clutch your arms around yourself to try to create some warmth for yourself. Immediately, Jungkook takes off his blazer and wraps it around you. He leads you to the trunk of his car, and once it’s open, he helps you get up there so you can sit.

Bless his parents for giving him an SUV.

The car trunk blocks out the outside wind, and Jungkook’s blazer gives you immense warmth. The scent of laundry detergent mixed with faint, pleasant cologne floods your senses, calming you down right away. Jungkook watches as you snuggle yourself in his clothes. His legs hang over the edge of the trunk while you curl up in a ball, leaning on one side of the car.

“I’m sorry,” You clear your throat, “For being an asshole.”

“It’s no-���

“No, don’t say that. It’s not something you can just brush over so lightly,” You look him dead in the eye while you speak, “I was terrible and I’m really sorry for saying such mean things to you. You didn’t deserve that.”

Jungkook nods, pressing his lips together into a thin line before licking them. A thin layer of saliva glosses his lips, their color a more vivid shade of pink.

“I’m really sorry, Jungkook,” You repeat, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Your voice is clear even though your heart is beating violently against your chest, and even you’re amazed. Hoseok was right when he said that you were good with your words.

Well, up until now.

“Y/N-“

When he says your name, your words ungracefully sputter out of your mouth, displaying just how afraid you are. 

“No, I’m, like, really, really sorry,” You feel tears well up in your eyes, but you brave on nonetheless, “I get it if you don’t want to talk to me anymore, and that’s okay, I just-“

“Y/N.”

In a split second, Jungkook’s hands are cupped around your face. He stares into your eyes deeply, fondly, just like he always does. You blink back at him, eyes fluttering while you try to adjust to the proximity. It’s then where you see every single little detail on his face that makes him who he is. The little scar on his cheek, the moles lightly dotted on his skin, and the way his eyes seem doe-like, almost. You take it all in, noticing how your breaths have synchronized, cold fog coming from of both of your lips.

You almost forget how much you like the way he says your name.

“Listen to me,” He whispers, “I’m okay. You’re okay.”

“Really?”

“I forgive you.”

The tears you’ve been desperately trying to hold back have somehow found their way out, and Jungkook chuckles while his thumb wipes them away. His touch is gentle on your skin, almost ticklish, and he doesn’t say anything else but just continues to dry the tears falling from your eyes.

“Jungkook,” You sniffle, “You’re too nice for your own good.”

He shrugs, letting out a breathy laugh. It’s music to your ears, just like it’s always been.

“Only to the people I love,” He tilts his head to the side, “Other than that, I’m pretty selfish.”

You giggle as well, putting your hands on his and leaning more into his touch. Your eyelids flutter downwards, as you take the time to just feel him on your skin, to savor this moment for yourself.

“Do you still think I don’t know anything about you, Y/N?”

You open your eyes and look at him, as he expectantly waits for you to answer. For some reason, though, your words catch in your throat. You never seem to be able to speak properly around Jungkook. He sighs, taking your silence as a resounding “yes”.

“Your name is Y/F/N Y/L/N and you’re a junior in high school. You’re on the Monarchs cheer team, and your best friend is named Jung Hoseok,” He says, not taking his hands away from you, “You have a little sister named Clementine, who’s 12. Your mom’s a psychiatrist and your dad is an architect. Even though they’re always busy, they’ve been trying to find ways to spend more time together.”

The routinely symphony of crickets mixed with Jungkook’s voice and the scent of Jungkook constantly wafting into your nose almost makes you faint. The state you’re in is one of complete bliss, complete relaxation as his hands are warm and welcoming against your skin. You’d go to sleep if Jungkook wasn’t professing his love for you for the second time right now.

“You like One Direction, even though a lot of people think that’s cringy. You’re still a big fan of the Power Rangers, and Trini, the Yellow Ranger, is your favorite. You can be incredibly mean and you can say things out of line, but most of the time you just don’t think before speaking,” He smiles at you while he speaks, “Deep down inside I know you’re an incredible softie. And I know that because of how you treat Tina. And, ‘cause you’re a softie ‘round me too, even if you don’t realize it.”

“Oh, Jungkook,” You breathe out, a smile forming on your lips as well.

“You used to hate me, because I called you thunder thighs during practice, and rightfully so,” He mumbles the last part, and you giggle.

“Didn’t know you’d remember that.”

“Remembered it ‘cause I can never forget how angry you were that day,” He teases, “Anyways, you used to hate me so much. And I’ll be honest, you had every reason to. I didn’t like you that much either.”

“Ouch.”

He rolls his eyes at you.

“But then I got to know you, got to see how kind and genuine you are around people, even if you don’t see that,” He says, “Sometimes you say terrible things, but under that tough exterior, all you are is just a genuine girl who does her best to make the people she loves happy.”

“You’re hardworking, smart, and extremely funny,” He continues, “In and out, you’re a beautiful person. That’s the Y/N I know, and that’s the Y/N I love and I will be in love with for a long time.”

You sniffle, and Jungkook waits, afraid that you’ll start crying again. When you don’t, he takes a deep breath before talking again.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Y/N,” He confesses, “Can’t you see?”

You shake your head, reaching out to grab him by the collar. You pull him in and press your lips against him, your whole body being set aflame and your lips telling him everything that you’re dying to say. There’s a faint taste of Jungkook’s watermelon flavored gum on your tongue (If you thought about it hard enough, there was a hint of pasta there as well). His lips are soft and pillowy against yours, and you feel as though you’ve waited for this moment for your entire life.

Who knew it would take your mom, your sister, and Hoseok to make you realize that?

Jungkook smiles against your lips, caressing your face lovingly with his thumbs. Your hand finds a way through his soft brown locks, combing through the strands that fall in between your fingers.

The sky is painted pitch black, save for the bright stars and the moon shining for the two of you, but your world is painted in deep shades of pink. Sure, it may be extremely cold because it is still December after all, but Jungkook’s lips feel warm on yours and that’s all the heat you needed to survive. You could stay like this forever if you could, if your lungs could take it.

However, that isn’t humanly possible, and after what feels like forever, your body reminds you that you still need oxygen to function.

You pull away, hands still in their respective place while the two of you meet eyes, chests moving up and down in sync. Your lips are slightly parted, mimicking Jungkook’s, and a silence falls on the two of you, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s peaceful, as your world becomes nothing but Jungkook right at this moment.

“I love you,” both of you say at the same time, and before you know it, you’re laughing. Jungkook’s still stunned at first, but now he’s laughing just because you’re laughing and it’s contagious.

And in this moment, you feel safe.

Sure, you didn’t know a thing about love. You couldn’t even tell left from right at some times. But maybe that was okay. Maybe you didn’t have to figure everything out right now. Sitting with Jungkook in the trunk of his car, where the stars are beaming down on you and his coat is keeping you warm, is honestly all you need tonight. And maybe you still have some negative feelings you need to resolve from your past relationships. Maybe you had some issues in yourself that you needed to sort out, but that was okay, because Jungkook had his fair share of issues himself. And regardless of all of that, he was ready to risk it all for you. He was willing to learn and grow with you. Jungkook would wait for you as long as it takes. And you don’t need him to reassure you. You didn’t need to worry about it. You didn’t need to worry about anything, you realize.

Because now Jungkook’s walking you back into your house, offering to tuck you into bed and stay with you until you fall asleep, even though you’re 17 and you’re very well aware that you don’t need someone else to keep you company so you can sleep.

That doesn’t mean you’d decline his offer, though, as you lie in bed with him, snuggled up in his arms while he runs his hands through your hair. His dress shirt is scratchy against your skin, but you don’t care. Being with him is enough for you. 

“Are you still on the team?” You ask out of the blue, eyelids drooping down while your burning curiosity gets the best of you, “You didn’t get kicked off because of me, did you-“

He peppers your face in kisses.

“Coach and I are close, he gets it,” He mumbles against your skin, “Just gotta do a lot of his chores for the rest of the year and summer. I’ll be okay, Y/N.”

“Okay…”

“That’s not your fault, princess,” He chuckles, “That was mine.”

“Yeah, definitely,” You nuzzle your face in his chest, “Still upset you did that.”

“Oh, I know,” He places yet another kiss on your head, “But for you, I’d do it all over again if I had to.”

And as the two of you fall asleep soundly in each other’s arms, you’re unaware of the loving smiles from your family and Hoseok’s faces when they see you two through the slightly opened door.

Epilogue

A little more than a year has passed. You’ve kept track.

Life has thrown obstacle after obstacle your way, but you’ve overcome all of them so far, and you plan to do so until your last breath. Jungkook was right when he said that you were strong. It’s amazing how you didn’t quite exactly realize this until now. 

But this “strength” is long gone today, as you’re sitting on a fancy wooden chair, the soft cushion feeling good under you, in the middle of an Italian restaurant. The chandelier’s are dimly lit, shading your beige surroundings in elegant oranges and creams. You take a deep breath, trying to still your heart that's pounding violently in your chest. Your nerves work against every single word of the pep talk you’ve given yourself this morning, and you steady yourself, fidgeting with the silk, blue fabric of your dress that’s laying across your lap.

You look over to your right, and if you were stressed out, Jungkook was ten times worse, to say the least.

His right leg is bouncing up and down uncontrollably, and he continues to wipe away sweat from his forehead with a napkin, despite the fact that the restaurant is heavily air conditioned. His lips are formed in a tight, miniscule circle, and he’s also trying to steady his breathing, but he fails time and time again, hyperventilating right after. Every few seconds, he’ll pull out his phone and use his camera as a mirror, his fingers fixing the littlest flaw in his hair that his mind seems to create. His left arm is resting on your chair, the feeling of the thick material of his sleeve tickling your skin.

You sigh, watching how much of a nervous wreck he was, despite how amazing he looked in his tux.

“Still can’t believe you took Clem to this place before me,” You quip, and Jungkook is taken out of his trance, a smile falling on his lips once his eyes meet yours, “I think that’s a little unfair, don’t you?”

A miniscule portion of the tension in his body is gone while he’s thinking of what to say, not willing to miss any chance of responding to your jokes with something of equal (if not more) wittiness.

“First come, first serve, princess,” He chuckles, and you roll your eyes at him, punching his chest lightly. Once you’re quiet, he’s back to overthinking.

“Y’know, the fact that you’re more nervous than I am is saying something,” You hum, reaching up to poke his cheek so that he returns to Earth.

“I can’t help it…”

You smirk, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. His face flashes up, and he shakes his head at you.

“You’re crazy, y’know that?” He sighs, staring at you dreamily. Even now, he becomes head over heels when you kiss him out of the blue. The sight of him having literal heart eyes for you makes you giggle.

“So are you,” You respond, “But, hey, it’ll be okay, I promise. Nothing bad could possibly happen.”

“...Really?”

“Of course, Kook,” You place your hand on his thigh, giving it an affirmative squeeze, “Everything will be fine.”

“And if it’s not?”

“Well,” You click your tongue, “We’ll get there when we get there.”

He nods, most of the stress leaving his head. You take a sigh of relief, seeing how relaxed he’s become. Now he’s cracking jokes about anything and everything, and you feel a flutter in your chest. Jungkook was back to his normal self.

Well, he was until he suddenly froze in his seat while he was in the middle of telling you a funny story during practice. Your focus is turned away from him and you follow his line of vision. You’re met with a waitress leading a middle-aged man and a boy into the seating area. She scans the room and once she sees your table, she gestures over to you two, a bright, pleasant smile on her face.

Jungkook immediately stands up to greet the two of them, thanking the waitress for her assistance. He guides them to the table, and it’s only then where you get a good look at them.

You suppress a laugh. Jungkook definitely had his father’s nose.

So did his little brother, Yeonjin, who was the spitting image of Jungkook when Jungkook was 13. He even has the infamous bowl cut that Jungkook had when he was younger. The boy takes out the earbuds in his ears, unplugs them from his phone, rolls them up in his hand, and places the coiled up earbuds into his pocket of his trousers.

He stares up at you, almost in awe, and so does his dad, who’s looking you up and down. Jungkook’s father acts as if he’s dissecting a subject, taking you apart piece by piece and rearranging you in his mind so as to get a better understanding of your character. It’s times like these where you wish that mind reading was a skill.

Jungkook takes another deep breath. He then gestures to you, and you flash a polite smile to them, reaching out your hand.

“Um, Yeonie,” He clears his throat, “Dad, this is Y/N.”

There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again.

“She’s my girlfriend.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” His father says, a soft smile appearing finally. He shakes your hand. Yeonjin follows his actions, shaking your hand with an obviously lesser amount of strength, but with the same eagerness all the more. You hide the uneasiness in your chest, knowing all that you know about Jungkook’s dad and his brother. And knowing that his dad doesn’t know that you know about him.

Nevertheless, though, you sit down with his other side of the family and make easy conversation with them while all of you look through the menu. Yeonjin points to one dish on the menu to his dad, and then whips out his phone and starts scrolling through social media. He doesn’t say anything, save for a soft chuckle or snicker when he sees a funny post on his phone.

You take a glance at Jungkook, who has become more composed than earlier. You take a few more glances, and Jungkook does the same. When you make eye contact, you give him a bright smile, and he mirrors you. You feel the back of his hand on your thigh, and you put your hand in his. He lets out a sigh, squeezing you and massaging your skin with his thumb. The action brings both of you at peace.

“So, Y/N,” His dad takes a sip of the ice cold water in his glass, “How did you get to know Jungkook?”

This time, Yeonjin actually looks up from his phone to stare at you with curiosity.

You smile at them sheepishly, wondering what exactly to tell them of your wild ride of a story with Jungkook. Maybe you could omit some parts here and there, especially the part about him getting expelled because of you. You’re not even sure if his dad knew that happened to him.

You gulp, and Jungkook squeezes your hand once more. Now it’s him making sure that you return to Earth. Your nerves are still set on fire, though, and you stammer out a few incoherent sounds while you try to find the right things to say.

This was definitely going to be significantly harder than having dinner with his mom.

a/n: hope you guys enjoyed!!! it had quite a bunch of cliches but i loved writing them nonetheless. i love you all :)

[amythedvdhoarder]

Storm in a Teacup

Pairing: Bucky x Divorced Reader

Word Count: ~2K

Warnings: Fluff, a monster of an ex-mother-in-law

Summary: You’re on your first date after your divorce. Who should you run into? Your ex-mother-in-law.

A/N: This comes from a request sent in by a lovely nonnie, who wanted a fic based around a divorced reader who runs into her ex-mother-in-law whilst on a date with Bucky. Before that point, Bucky didn’t know about her divorce. Embarrassment ensues and Bucky has to make up his mind about what to do next. I hope I have done your idea justice. Sorry it took me so long.

Thank you to the wonderful @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ for beta reading for me. Ily hun 😘

It had taken a long time for you to get to this position, to feel comfortable enough to be dating again. But you had been separated from your now ex-husband for two and a half years, your divorce finalised 6 months ago. It was time to try and have some semblance of a life. You felt guilty about not revealing your divorce to Bucky, but when you moved to New York you really wanted a fresh start, so you didn’t tell anyone about your past. Of course, if there came a time when Bucky needed to know then you would tell him, but this was just a coffee.

Bucky and you had begun talking a few months ago. It started when he was dropping off mission reports with small smiles, progressing to hello’s and then to you making him coffee whenever he stopped by during your lunch break, which he always seemed to arrive in time for. He had realised quickly that you weren’t a New York native, so traded your museum recommendations for tv, film and music recommendations. Each time you met you discussed your latest weekend museum trip and he told you his thoughts on the latest thing he had watched or listened to.

It was clear that you two had a connection. Your co-workers had even commented on how well you and the notoriously silent super-soldier seemed to get along. They were surprised that you hadn’t been on a date already. But you had reservations; perhaps it was too soon. Plus, there was no way Bucky would be interested in you. He was just polite and maybe enjoyed having someone who wasn’t a superhero to talk to. It was a shock when he asked you out for coffee the next time you saw him. You were even more shocked that you had agreed without any hesitation.  

You were nervous. In fact, nervous was an understatement. Sick to your stomach was a more accurate description. It wasn’t the fact that it was a date with Bucky Barnes, it was the fact it was a date. Your first, first date in nearly 10 years.  

Bucky was leaning against a lamppost, outside your apartment waiting for you. When you saw him you felt yourself instantly relax. He gave you his signature lopsided grin that you had come to crave and ambled over to you.

“You look great,” he said as he stood back and admired you.

“Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself for an old man,” you teased. That was the understatement of the century. He looked like a model in his dark wash jeans, dark blue henley layered over a black t-shirt and a leather jacket in his hand.

He shook his head and chuckled to himself. “Theoretically we’re about the same age you know.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Hmmm well I don’t know about that, but we better get going otherwise we’ll be out past your bedtime.”

“What happened to respecting your elders?” Bucky winked.

“Maybe elders that don’t act like teenage boys, but you and Sam are like high-school kids.”

Bucky looked confused for a second and then remembered that you had caught him and Sam hiding Steve’s shield under your desk the other week.

Bucky threw his hands up in surrender. “Alright, you win.”

The coffee shop was only a couple of streets away, on a corner opposite one of your favourite parks. Bucky and you ordered together and found a table near the window.

Both of you were chatting away about an art gallery you had visited the day before when you were suddenly interrupted.

“You,” that was a voice you would recognise anywhere, a voice which still haunted you. One of constant criticism, one that drove a wedge between you and the person you thought you would spend the rest of your life with.

“Hello Eliza,” you said through a forced smile.

Bucky stood and politely offered his hand to Eliza, but she ignored it leaving Bucky to sit down awkwardly.

“What brings you to New York?” you asked curtly.

“Well Leon and I are visiting my sister,” you balked, glancing quickly around the room, checking for any sign of him.

“He’s not here so you can stop looking. My son had a lucky escape by all accounts,” she sent a sneering look towards Bucky and then back to you. “Barely divorced and already moving on. I always suspected you were a whore; this just confirms it.”

Tears sprang to your eyes; she was publicly humiliating you. Calling you out for being a whore, when you had done nothing but be faithful to her son throughout your marriage and in fact whilst going through the long and bitter divorce. It was her son who couldn’t keep it in his pants. Anger took over and just as you were about to respond Bucky stood up and moved in front of you.

“Sorry I don’t know who you are, but you have no right to speak to anyone like that,” his voice low and urgent, his metal hand clenching and unclenching quickly by his side.

Eliza smirked, eyes flicking up and down at the man standing in front of her. “Ah I recognise you off the news, you two make the perfect match. Both damaged goods that no normal person could want.”

You stood up and went to stand by Bucky’s side, gently taking his arm in your hands. “That’s enough Eliza, we aren’t family anymore, you have made it evidently clear you want nothing to do with me. The feeling is very much mutual. We have nothing more to say to each other so goodbye.”

She let out a little exclamation of shock, but she quickly recovered her sharp exterior. Without saying another word, she just turned on her heels and left the coffee shop.

Bucky gently led you back to your seat, ignoring the people staring at both of you. You looked like you were in shock.

“Hey…” his thumb caught the tears that had begun to roll down your cheeks, “she’s not worth your tears.”

This seemed to finally snap you out of your daze. You look at Bucky and everything just seemed so overwhelming. He was being too kind. Eliza had been right, you were damaged, Bucky deserved more than you, someone who could at least be honest about themselves.

‘I’m sorry Bucky…” you grabbed your bag and tore yourself away from him, running out the café and onto the busy street.

He didn’t follow you immediately like he wanted to, he knew you needed some space. Bucky didn’t know you well but wanted to, he was going to be there for you if you let him. Besides he had an inkling about where you were.

You were exactly where he thought you would be, sat on a bench in the park, covered by a weeping willow.

“Mind if I sit,” you jumped at the intrusion. Bucky stood in front of you, holding two take-out cups from the coffee shop and what looked like a very chocolatey cookie.

All of you could do was nod, the shame of Eliza’s words and your own dishonesty still coursing through you.

“Here,” Bucky offered you the cup and you numbly accepted. “Do you want to split this?” he held up the bag and you rolled your eyes at him. “I mean, I’m quite happy to eat it all,” he sent you a lopsided grin.

You couldn’t help the little snort that escaped you. “We’ll split it, would hate for you to have to spend an extra hour in the gym burning off a whole cookie.”

“You’re too kind,” he teased, opening the bag and poking out the cookie for you to snap off half of it.

Both of you sat and ate without uttering a word to one another. You couldn’t believe he was being so nice to you; you certainly didn’t deserve it.

“I can see why you like it here so much,” Bucky commented, breaking the silence.

“Bucky, how did you know I’d be here?” You turned to face him and took a sip of your coffee.

“I’ve seen you here before. But before you think I’ve been stalking you let me explain. I grew up around here, a couple of blocks away actually. I like to come here for a walk sometimes to remember the happier more carefree times. I spotted you one day but you looked so content in your own little world, I didn’t want to interrupt.” His cheeks flushed slightly with his admission.

He cleared his throat and looked at the coffee cup in his hands before continuing. “Then I started coming here more regularly, hoping I would see you, but I never plucked up the courage to come and talk to you.”

“I’m sorry Bucky” you said quietly.

“That’s the second time you’ve apologised to me today and I still don’t know what you’ve got to be sorry about. It’s not your fault that woman was way out of line. You don’t owe me an apology for anything,” His brows knitted together with concern and it made you feel even more guilty.

“I should’ve told you about the divorce,” smiling ruefully, placing your empty coffee cup between you on the bench.

“I already knew,” he shrugged.

“What? How? I hadn’t told anyone at work,” you spluttered in shock.

“That’s how,” he nodded to where your thumb and forefinger were twisting around where your wedding ring used to be.

You let go immediately and shook your head. “Why did you ask me out for coffee if you knew about my divorce?”

It was perplexing to you that anyone would want to come anywhere near you after your divorce. You had just assumed you would be alone forever. No one had two people out there meant for them. Well, maybe Leon hadn’t been your one.

“We can’t help our past,” Bucky flexed his metal hand, “I know that better than most. All we can do is make the most of our future. I like you, have since I met you. In fact, Sam got so fed up of me talking about you, that he threatened to ask you out himself if I didn’t hurry up and get on with it. Not that I didn’t want to, it’s just thought you could do so much better that an ex-brainwashed assassin.”

“You’re a good man Bucky, anyone would be lucky to have you” you whispered.  

Bucky leant over and wiped away the tears you hadn’t realised had begun to roll down your cheeks. “I don’t just want anyone though,” His deep blue eyes peered into yours trying to get across his meaning.

“I like you too Bucky, but we’ve got to take this slow.” His face lit up at your words and he took your hand and pressed it to his lips.

“I’m over 100 years old, slow suits me. But seeing as our first date was hijacked would you like to get some dinner with me? I know a diner around the corner has the best burger in the city.”

“Sounds perfect, but only if you let me get it this time. I owe you for the coffee and the cookie.” You offered.

“I think I just about agree to terms of that deal,” Bucky laughed, scooped up the rubbish and got to his feet. “Shall we?” he asked, offering you his free hand.

You put your hand in his and got to your feet. “Let’s go.”

Gif not mine, credit to the creator

Divider made by the talented @firefly-graphics​

Taglists are open. Let me know if you want in or out

Everything:

@stargazingfangirl18 ,  @silentcoyotesong, @queenofstarliqht, @buckys-henley, @lonelyheartsm @alexa-lightwood-blog, @angrythingstarlight, @drabblewithfrannybarnes, @rogueheretic555, @rebekahdawkins, @chrissquares, @pumpkin-and-pine, @hereforbuckyandsteve, @drakelover78, @baddie-barnes, @cas25214, @pandaxnienke, @thehumanistsdiary, @saiyanprincessswanie, @ladyacrasia, @sweeterthanthis, @joannie95, @lennon-knox, @navybrat817

Bucky:

@its-izzys, @archy3001

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey-o!

Do you know of any fanfictions of one of the two painting?

Hi Lovely!!

I do, mostly as AU’s on this list here, but I found more on my MFL list. I have one “in-canon” fic you can enjoy, and I’ll pull the artist ones from that list to here too :) Everything except “Sketchy”, I have not read, just so you know! <3

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Fingers Trace Your Every Outline by Remy_Writes5 (M, 2,310 w., 1 Ch. || Fantasy AU || Magical Realism, Artist Sherlock, Painted John, Art) – Whenever Sherlock feels angry or Frustrated or lonely, he paints a blond haired man that is a figment of his imagination.

Oxidation by abbykate (E, 27,969 w., 4 Ch. || Artist Sherlock AU || Magical Realism, Oil Painting, Dream Sex, Drug Abuse, Dreams, Modern Art, Cigarettes, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Viclock, Mormor, Lestrolly) – as oil paintings dry, the process is not evaporation as there is no water in the paint to disappear; instead, the oils in the paint are oxidised causing them to harden over years in a process that never really stops.

Complementary Colours by FinAmour & unicornpoe (M, 64,927+ w., 10/11 Ch. || WiP || University AU || Enemies to Lovers, Art Courses, Painting, Drama Queen Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Fluff / Humour, Love / Hate, Idiots in Love, Speaking French, Angst, Jealous John, Happy Ending) – Complementary colours, noun.: pairs of colours that contrast with each other more than any other colour, and when placed side-by-side make each other look brighter.

Masters of Ink by Indybaggins (E, 67,382 w., 7 Ch. || Ink Master Tattoo TV Show AU || Angst, Banter, Body Modification, Cheating, Desire, Developing Relationship, Disability, Falling in Love, Feels, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Married John, Past Drug Addiction, Pining, Requited Love, Sex, Slow Burn, Smoking, Tattoo Artist John, Tattoo Artist Sherlock) – First-meeting-on-a-reality-show AU, Ink Master edition! There is expert tattooing, slightly less expert flirting, and two men falling hard. But John is married, and they can’t all win.

The Very Eyes of Me by mydogwatson (E, 79,162 w., 33 Ch. || Paris 1920s AU || Mutual Pining, First Time, Angst, Artist Sherlock, Novelist John) – Sherlock is an artist. John is a novelist. WWI. WWII. The Jazz Age. They meet and it all happens, just in a different time and place. But the result is the same.

The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by ShirleyCarlton  (M, 144,688 w., 40 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending) – Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own. (Sherlock paints with his brother in this fic; half done reading)

Sketchy by serpentynka (E, 184,053 w., 83 Ch. || Post-TRF, Post-Mary, John Whump, Slow Burn Love Story, Case Fic, Art, Porn With Feelings, Switchlock, Travelling, Career Change, Family Secrets, Illness / Health) – What (and who) will be left when nobody cares about your Work? A slow-burn fic with cases, places, mistaken identities, unfair choices, essential changes, violent feels, blatant lies, fearless portraiture, family secrets, high-risk bespoke gifts, durable friendships, bedtime stories, foreign travel and tongues, sickness (and health), and the significance of things which are slow to unfurl -- but cannot be ignored. Oh, and...porn. Part 1: Sherlock takes on an obvious case (barely a 4) and meets someone who will force him to re-examine what it means to see. Part 1 of Sketchy (BOOKMARKED)

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Feel free to add more if you have anymore guys!!

[jowritesthingss]

of being known (and loved)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairing(s): LoSleep (Logic | Logan + Sleep | Remy)

Rating: Teen (for very mild swearing and innuendo)

Content Warning(s): Logan’s coming to terms with being quoiro, so there are very vague sexual mentions/innuendo, just FYI, but nothing graphic

Length: 4,539 words

Brief Summary: Part of the @sanderssides-secretsanta gift exchange! This is my gift as Secret Santa to the lovely @demigodbookdragon ! Features the requested prompt of Logan coming out to his partner(s) as ace and/or quoiromantic, as well as one of the requested pairings—LoSleep!

TS Masterlist + AO3 Links

*

Logan Sanders. Logic to one Thomas Sanders, voice in his head and vision in his view, informing and (according to Roman) annoying twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, four weeks a month, twelve months a year, so it goes. And yet.

Logan Sanders. Who is Logan Sanders, really?

If there exists anyone out there who knows the answer to this question, Logan would really like to know, because he himself isn’t quite certain. Logan Sanders. Logic. Voice of reason. The smart one. The nerd. And yet.

Who is Logan Sanders?

And who could ever truly know Logan Sanders, if he doesn’t even know himself?

-

Logan Sanders enjoys order. He likes to know where things begin and end, to keep neat and tidy and color within the lines. He likes to present a clean image, to stay organized and orderly and crisp and clean, even as the other sides grow chaotic and wild and confusing around him.

Logan enjoys the chaos now too, he thinks, in small, manageable doses. Certainly in Remy-sized doses.

-

The other sides are...nice.

They’ve long since reached a point of not-quite-resolution, of almost-understanding, of mutual cooperation. And Logan is...he’s working through some things. But then again, so are the others.

They all slip, certainly—himself included—and there’s a long way for them to go yet. But the sides have the rest of Thomas’ life ahead to get there, and they have each other to metaphorically (and occasionally literally) lean on.

All the same, it’s just easier to talk to Remy, sometimes.

Technically, as Sleep, Remy isn’t actually one of the sides. He’s somehow still there inside the Mindscape, and no one is particularly sure why.

Remy simply appeared one day out of nowhere, scaring a young Virgil to the point that he refused to come down off the fridge for hours. He was known only as his function—“Sleep”—for a period of time before deciding out of the blue that his name would be Remy.

Logan has been puzzling this occurrence over for decades, but has long since given up, acknowledging that it will likely forever remain a mystery, just like what it is, precisely, that exists at the bottom of the ocean. (Further, the existence of any of them is very much in defiance of any science Logan has ever heard of, really, so he isn’t exactly one that can judge.)

Remy is a bit of a metaphorical wild card. He goes where he wishes, does what he wants. He’ll disappear for weeks on end, follow them around nonstop for days...he goes on ridiculous coffee binges before swearing Starbucks refreshers are the only “valid” drink...he lures Thomas into napping on the couch but refuses to cooperate at bedtime...Logan isn’t entirely sure why Remy does what he does beyond simple whimsy, and it puzzles him incessantly.

However much Remy’s behavior might confuse him, it’s...actually quite pleasant to have him around. Random disruptions and interruptions generally are not something that Logan delights in, but aside from Janus, Remy is the only other side with an appreciation for sarcasm, and his presence as Logan works is...enjoyable tolerable.

Then there is the veritable fact that, unlike the others, Remy always listens to Logan.

Logan knows that the others mean well. And they do—they have since assured him that they truly do. But they get so carried away in their excitement sometimes that having someone a bit more grounded like Remy around to converse with is nice. And in turn, Logan always makes sure to listen to Remy. As loath as he is to admit possession of any “feelings”, he knows how it can feel to be ignored.

One of Remy’s favorite things to discuss is Mindscape gossip. Logan doesn’t understand the appeal of gossip, but he’s sure that Remy doesn’t understand the appeal of the history of the telescope, either, so he listens.

Today, the “hot” topic seems to be Patton and Remus. Or, rather—the relationship between Patton and Remus.

“I’m not kidding you, gurl!” Remy flops backwards in Logan’s bed. Logan refrains from telling him not to muss up the carefully-made bed; it hasn’t worked the past forty-seven times he’s asked, and he doubts it would work today. “I legit walked in on them when I came home last night.”

“You ‘walked in on them’?” Logan asks neutrally from his desk, fondly brushing aside Remy’s improper usage of ‘legit’. He turns the page, looks at Thomas’ schedule for January, winces. Double-booked on January eighth, and in the middle of a pandemic, of all things? How ever did he allow that to slip past him? “Doing what, exactly?”

“They weren’t doing the do, if that’s what you’re asking about,” Remy responds.

“‘The do’,” Logan quotes, puzzled momentarily before the realization hits him. “Oh, you mean intercourse, don’t you?” He pauses in his work to make a note in the margins about updating his vocabulary cards.

“Duh.” Remy pauses to roll over and sip at his drink. He’s on one of his tea detoxes; Logan predicts it won’t last more than a few days this time. “But they were, like, snuggling. On the couch. And watching a romantic movie.”

That makes Logan pause. “Remus, watching a romantic movie?” He pauses and glances over at Remy briefly before continuing to write again. “That does seem a fair amount out of character.”

“Yes! Exactly!” Remy exclaims. “Remus wouldn’t subject himself to something like that willingly. No way. That’s why I think they’re dating.”

“Mm-hmm,” Logan agrees absent-mindedly as the events of January twenty-first catch his attention. Then he pauses. Computes.

Logan abruptly drops his pen and swivels around in his chair. “Apologies. Did I hear you correctly, Remy? You believe Patton and Remus are,” he struggles to get the word out momentarily, “are dating?”

“Yeppers!” Remy nods. He slurps noisily at his tea before popping it back on Logan’s bedside table. Rolling to hang his torso upside down off the side of Logan’s bed, he says, “it’s not the first time I’ve seen anything hinting at those two throwing goo-goo eyes at each other, but that pretty much cements it in my mind.”

“‘Goo-goo eyes’?” Logan frowns as the realization further sinks in. Dating. Patton and Remus. Dating? “Wait, am I to understand that sides can date?”

“Like, of course.” Remy’s face is starting to go red as blood rushes down to it. “Did you miss that whole awkward fling between snakeyboi and prissy mister prince back in college? God, seeing them interacting for the first time in years was so awkward.” He snickers loudly. “Glad they didn’t call me to the stand back during that whole dumb courtroom thing.”

“I...no, I don’t have any recollection of any such thing,” Logan murmurs. He briefly wracks his memories, blue pen scratching crisply against the page in front of him, and comes up empty.

“Mmm, yeah, that’s probably a good thing, babe.” Remy slides off the bed and onto the floor then, hissing as blood starts to rush away from his head again. “Honestly, whole thing was a train wreck to watch. Patton and Remus are pretty cute, though. I guess opposites really do attract, huh?”

“Ah...yes, I suppose so,” Logan murmurs, but as Remy launches into a play-by-play detailing the embarrassment on Remus’ face and Patton’s sheer terror at being the one busted for once, he’s already tuning the other out.

Dating. The other sides date. Which means, of course, that they...feel things. Well—yes, the sides are capable of individual emotions. That has been established prior, Logan knows. But this means that they feel love things.

Sides can feel love?

That question, however, goes unasked and unanswered, as Remy drones on about how flustered Remus had been when he was caught being “lovey-dovey” and Logan’s schedule blurs out in front of his face.

Unasked. Unanswered. Yet still it lingers in the back of Logan’s mind as he finally convinces Remy to let them sleep for the night, as he lies awake in bed staring at the blinking red numbers of his alarm clock:

Sides can feel love?

-

Logan Sanders enjoys understanding. He loves learning—loves looking up to the stars, down at the ground, in front at the path ahead of them all, even back at where they’ve come from sometimes. He loves to be known to know. Yes, Logan Sanders likes understanding.

This entire debacle, however? Logan does not understand.

-

Can the sides feel love?

The question follows Logan for weeks as he goes about his days, carefully maintaining Thomas’ schedule and gently bullying the other sides into doing their tasks and taking care of themselves. He refuses to let it interfere with his job, but in the moments he pauses to take a breath, the question is there to steal his breath away again.

Love. Love, love, love. The one thing Logan absolutely loathes—or, if he were to be honest with himself (and as much as he hates the truth, he tries to avoid the practice of denying truth), the one thing that Logan is absolutely terrified of.

He’s known for a while that the others love him, and that he (fortunate or unfortunate as it may be) does love the others in his own way. But that’s easy, and it’s obvious. It’s a purely familial thing—or so Logan had thought.

Then Patton calls a family meeting and awkwardly informs them that he and Remus are an item now. And Roman is groaning over-exaggeratedly, Virgil is hissing, Janus seems all too unsurprised, Remy is gleefully vindicated, Emile looks away while Remus licks Patton’s cheek for all to see, and Logan?

Logan has his answer.

So the other sides—or, at least, some of them—do, in fact, experience some sort of romantic or sexual connection to others. So the sides can feel love, then.

Only—what about Logan? What does he...what does he feel?

Logan metaphorically looks into himself. He isn’t sure what he (again, metaphorically) finds.

As much as he might struggle to understand figurative language, Logan isn’t completely unaware of it. To make full usage of such metaphors, it all seems a confusing jumble of darkness and confusion and occasional swirls of odd colors.

What are those sorts of attraction even supposed to feel like? he puzzles as he sits on the couch beside Patton and Remus, a thick tome about astronomy perched in his lap as he takes in exactly none of the words on the page it’s opened to. He’s always assumed that, as sides, they wouldn’t feel such human emotions, or then again, as Thomas’ sides they would echo his sexual orientation.

But Logan...Logan feels...nothing. Right?

Or, well. Patton and Roman have been very adamant about how love comes in all different forms, and it makes logical sense. Familial love, romantic, platonic, and so the list goes on. And there’s no use in denying that Logan certainly feels things. Logan can’t always recognize it, but he’s trying now. He’s trying to figure it out.

All the same, he still hasn’t felt anything in particular towards Thomas’ past relations—not any love-related feelings, at least—but then again, they were Thomas’ partners, not his own. Logan has never himself felt anything. He feels nothing.

Or does he?

There is something that he feels in there, Logan knows. He knows he loves the others platonically, regardless of how little he says it aloud. And then there’s Remy, of course.

Goodness, Remy. Reluctant as he may be to admit it aloud or even to himself, Logan knows he loves Remy, with his smirk and his snark and his ridiculous leather jacket and his odd yet enlightening ways of using modern slang.

So Logan does love. Somehow. In some way. But he’s never thought to feel anything romantic; can he feel anything romantic? Will he even know when he feels it?

And there’s a lurking thought—likely irrational, Logan reasons, even as his mind tries to convince him otherwise—what even is the purpose of feeling anything romantic? What is the point? Logan steers clear of Roman’s romance novels, but he picks up tidbits from everything Thomas reads. Is there any use of potentially-romantic feelings?

It might be nice, he thinks as Remus drags Patton into the kitchen to bake something that will probably not end up edible. Romantic relations are often the pinnacle of any and all relationships in the eyes of society, for one thing. And while the amount of closeness and understanding conveyed between partners seems daunting, it seems as though it could be somewhat relieving as well.

But Logan’s views on romance mean very little if he has never felt anything of the romantic sort, do they?

Sighing, Logan abruptly shuts his book and stands to walk upstairs to his room. At this point the only thing he’s doing is confusing himself, and that won’t do him any good.

All the same, still the thoughts linger, even as he forces himself into more actively productive tasks for the rest of the day.

Logan feels nothing. Or he feels something. He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t enjoy not knowing.

-

Logan enjoys simplicity and complexity in equal measure. He takes pleasure in the simplicity of a black coffee every morning and a honeyed chamomile tea before bed—in the complexity of a full, well-organized schedule or an alluring mystery novel.

Love, for all it ought be simple, is a complexity that Logan has always struggled to understand in any and all forms. And to his utter chagrin, it seems romanticism and sexuality are no different.

-

It all comes to a head one dreary, drizzly afternoon in the Mindscape. (Logan wishes the “drizzly” part weren’t literal, but alas, Roman and Remus’ experimentation in the Imagination went wrong somehow, and now tiny rain clouds hover above every single room and hallway in the Mindscape.)

All things considered, it hasn’t been a great day for productivity—which means that it of course hasn’t been a great day for Logan, either.

Stress has been piling up from internal emotional struggles alongside external scheduling issues. It is to the point that Logan—and he isn’t a fan of flowery metaphors and figurative language—all Logan can think to do is compare the roiling in his mind to a brewing storm, rain falling within his mind as it pours down and soaks his clothing and skin within the Mindscape.

Logan is pacing about his room—doing his best to “wear a path into the floor”, he thinks the saying goes—when Remy bursts in, dressed in an obnoxiously pink raincoat and squeaky polka dot rain boots.

“Oh, thank god. Sanctuary.” Remy very nearly throws himself onto Logan’s canopy bed upon noticing that it is miraculously still dry. The tarpaulin Logan and Virgil wrangled up over it earlier is somehow still holding up; Logan has no idea how and isn’t in the mood to question a spot of good luck.

“Aight, who pissed Roman off this time?” Remy asks

“Surprisingly enough, no one,” Logan answers before realizing that Remy is dripping all over his bed wet. “Please take care to dry yourself off before getting on my bed.”

Remy huffs but complies, unceremoniously stripping off his outer garments. He wriggles his eyebrows at Logan while he tosses his boots over the side of the bed. “Damn. If you wanted me to undress, all you had to do is ask, babe.”

“I—um,” Logan says eloquently. He awkwardly pauses mid-pace before jerkily continuing a moment later. Remy says things like that all the time. Is Remy flirting? Is he not? Does he mean it? Does he not? Logan wants to know, but one isn’t supposed to just flat-out ask these sorts of questions, are they?

“Why don’t you join me where it’s dry, gurl?” Remy scoots over and pats the spot next to him. “C’mon. I’ll even, like, move over and give you some room. So gracious of me, right?”

The corners of Logan’s mouth unconsciously quirk slightly upwards, and he ceases pacing to head over to the bed.

“Uh-uh, gurl,” Remy shoos him away, and Logan’s eyebrows furrow in puzzlement. Had he not just said—

“Strip,” Remy says, and Logan’s mind goes blank in a momentary haze of confusion and panic.

“I—what,” he stammers, and his head feels light and fuzzy.

Remy sees the look of panic in his eyes, and his expression softens slightly. “Logan. If I can’t be wet on the bed, neither can you, babe.”

“Ah,” Logan says faintly. He moves over towards his wardrobe and almost mechanically pulls out a pair of his pajamas. He manages to get them out and over to the bed before they get too wet, where he sits on the edge and quickly shucks off his usual day attire of jeans, a collared shirt, and a crisp and calming blue necktie.

Logan keeps his back carefully turned as he changes. It’s ridiculous that such a thing feels odd now; they all are roughly the same physically, and it isn’t as though they haven’t changed in front of each other multiple times. But all the same, something still feels off this time.

Clothed in pajamas, Logan debates attempting to get his sopping day clothes into the laundry hamper, looks up at the gray little clouds still crowding the ceiling, gives up. He leaves them in a little dripping pile on the floor by his bed before turning to crawl up to the headboard where Remy lounges, leaving a tiny space on the left side of the bed for Logan to weasel his way into.

“Don’t be shy, gurl. We can huddle for warmth and all that jazz.” Remy holds out his arms invitingly, and it takes a moment before it registers in Logan’s mind that he’s offering a hug. “Unless you don’t want to, ’course.”

“I don’t think—” Logan starts before cutting himself off abruptly. He pauses, sucks in a tiny breath. “I do not think I am amenable to a hug at the moment.”

“That’s chill,” Remy assures. He adjusts his position on the bed, allowing Logan space to sit comfortably without touching him. Then he reaches up and drags his sunglasses down off his face, looking carefully at Logan with a searching gaze. “Hey. You good? You’ve been acting a little weird lately, but you’re, like, especially weird today.”

Ever the teacher, ever the educator, ever the answerer of questions, Logan wants to answer. He does. He just isn’t sure that he should.

Logan quietly sits and gets himself comfortable (“criss cross applesauce”, he’s never been able to quite break the silly elementary school habit). Then....

“I am...confused, I supposed,” he finally admits, and for a five word sentence, it is surprisingly difficult to get the words out. But Remy always listens. He’ll listen now—when it matters—correct?

“What about?” Remy asks, leaning back against the headboard and popping his sunglasses back on again, masking his expression.

“I—are you flirting with me?” Logan bursts out abruptly. To hell with his uncertainties—he has to know. He’s itching, twitching to know, to understand. “Have you—is that what this is? Is that why you’re always ‘hanging’ with me?”

“Is that what this has been about?” Remy laughs, but it isn’t malicious, Logan doesn’t think. “About time, TBH. I thought you’d never notice”

“I didn’t notice,” Logan says. “Well—I did notice, eventually, but I didn’t...I don’t—”

“Look, if you don’t feel the same way, that’s...fine,” Remy says, and his voice sounds different, devoid of his usual mischievous tone. Somber, almost. “It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to, babe. I do, like, genuinely just enjoy being around you, you know?”

“But why?” Logan asks, and something in his voice cracks. Inwardly he curses, hoping that Remy won’t here.

“There’s something bigger going on here, isn’t there?” Remy shifts next to him in the bed, and suddenly he’s leaning closer to Logan. The sunglasses are off again, and Remy stares into Logan’s wide eyes with that more solemn expression again.

“I don’t—” Logan cuts himself off again. He looks up towards the tarp hanging from the corners of his four-poster bed, attempting to organize his thoughts the best he can before speaking this time. It proves to be a difficult task; his thoughts are all jumbled and clumped together in a hopelessly confused mess. He just doesn’t understand. Logan likes to understand, but for once he doesn’t. Emotions have never been his strong suit, and these emotions are proving stubbornly elusive.

Logan clears his throat before speaking next. “Up until you brought up the relationship between Remus and Patton, I had never realized that we as sides could feel romantic or sexual attraction independent of Thomas,” he explains. Unconsciously his left hand goes up to push his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “It had...never occurred to me.”

“Oh.”

Logan waits for Remy to continue even as he stolidly refuses to turn and look at the other. When Remy says nothing else, he haltingly continues.

“As you and the others no doubt know, I often struggle at identifying emotions,” Logan continues. “Now that I am aware the others have a capacity for other attractions, I have attempted to find them within myself, and I...can’t seem to find them.”

“So you’re aromantic then?” Remy asks, his voice sounding neutral.

“No!” Logan rushes out before pausing. “I, ah. Perhaps? I’m afraid that I don’t know. I do not know what it is that I am feeling.”

“But you feel something.”

“Yes, I....” Logan finally finds it within himself to turn and face Remy. “I do indeed feel something. I feel many somethings. Towards you. But I’m afraid I don’t know what it is, and that...” he swallows, “...that isn’t fair to you.”

Remy is silent, his face impassive, and immediately Logan worries that he’s ruined everything about their relationship, whatever it is, whatever it may be.

Over the years Logan has grown to quite enjoy the lack of pressure and expectancy between the two of them whenever they spend time together, and the snarky conversation between the two of them has been quite refreshing. Not to mention the rare occasions that they do actually touch, or converse more seriously. Is he about to lose all that? Has Logan ruined all of that?

“...Do you think that you might be, like, quoiromantic or something?” Remy asks slowly.

Logan blinks confusedly behind his glasses. “I’m sorry?”

“Quoiromantic. It’s under the aromantic umbrella,” Remy explains. He frowns, tapping a finger over his lips contemplatively. “Hmm. Roman might be better at explaining this, since he’s actually aro. I’m demisexual, but I’ll admit I don’t know as much about the aromantic spectrum as maybe I should.”

“Quoiromantic,” Logan sounds out. “What does that terminology mean, exactly?”

“It’s like....” Remy frowns. “Mm. It’s like, you don’t really know how to tell the difference between romantic and platonic feelings, I think. You’ll wanna double check with Roman on that though, babe.”

“I...yes. That...does sound accurate,” Logan realizes aloud. “Quoiromantic.”

It’s like a metaphorical puzzle piece clicking into place inside his brain. Quoiromantic. Not being able to distinguish between romantic and platonic feelings...that certainly sounds a lot like what Logan has been puzzling over for the past few weeks.

“Quoiromantic,” Logan tests the word. “I would need to perform more extensive research, and perhaps examine my...emotions more before I can arrive at a proper conclusion, but...yes, that sounds...correct. That sounds....”

Good. It sounds good.

However.

Ice prickles through Logan again. He looks back at Remy. “But what would all of this mean in regard to the two of us and our relations?”

“What do you want it to mean?” Remy asks simply.

There comes the darkness again, rushing, followed by swirled colors of confusion.

“I...still don’t know,” Logan admits.

“That’s fine.” Remy shrugs. He looks at Logan, and with his sunglasses still off, Logan can see the earnestness and—fondness, is that fondness—in his bright brown eyes. “We can figure it out as we go. D’you wanna just, like, keep chilling like we’ve been doing?”

Logan licks his lips, adjusts his glasses again even though he really doesn’t need to. “...Maybe with some more hugs now?” he cautiously requests. “And with, ah...I believe it is called ‘cuddling’?”

“Lit. I’m down if you are.” Remy grins, flings himself back and out on the bed, looking not unlike a starfish as he does so. “Get in here then, babe. Can I still call you babe?”

Logan waits until he’s nestled into Remy’s side to respond. “Certainly,” he murmurs into Remy’s side, and Remy hugs him tighter. And goodness, it’s so warm and nice there on the bed with Remy that he can’t help but wonder why they hadn’t done this much sooner.

So warm and nice...that is, until the tarpaulin laden down with rainwater above his bed finally gives in to the weight.

The thing splashes down on the two of them, soaking them and causing a shrieking Remy to drag Logan out of the room in search of an umbrella and a dry towel. Even then it is still kind of nice, if a bit soggy and much colder, and Logan has to bite back a smile as Remy curses and leads him to go tell off Roman and Remus...holding Logan’s hand all the while.

And perhaps...perhaps Logan doesn’t exactly know how he feels on a larger scale. But he knows how he feels in the given moment—content. And that’s all he needs to know for now.

-

Logan Sanders enjoys solitude plenty, but he has more recently discovered enjoyment for the company of the others as well. All things considered, all confusions included, he enjoys it. He loves quiet nights of coexistence, and maybe he loves Remy romantically. Or maybe he doesn’t. He’s not quite sure, but he doesn’t need to be—not yet, perhaps not ever, even. They’ll work it out.

Most importantly, he thinks, Logan Sanders enjoys the company of himself, whoever “himself” might be or become.

-

Logan Sanders. Logic to one Thomas Sanders, voice in his head and vision in his view, informing and (according to Roman) annoying twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, four weeks a month, twelve months a year, so it goes. And yet.

Logan Sanders. Who is Logan Sanders, really?

If there exists anyone out there who knows the answer to this question, Logan still would like to know, because he still isn’t quite certain. Logan Sanders. Logic. Voice of reason. The smart one. The nerd. And yet.

Who is Logan Sanders?

Well. He is himself. Regardless of who or how he loves, Logan is himself. He is known, he is loved, he is himself. And he has his network of fellow sides and of Thomas and of Remy to help him, to know him, as he learns and knows and understands understands more about who Logan Sanders really is.

It’s a journey he’ll enjoy not being alone for.

Fin

*

Happy belated holidays! I decided to try participating in two Sanders Sides Secret Santa fic exchanges this year, and this is the product of the first of the two. I am SO thrilled to reveal myself as Avie’s Secret Santa! I hope that everyone enjoys this fic—especially you, Avie! <3 Goodness knows I had fun getting to write it for you :D

Want to be added onto any of my taglists? Shoot me an ask or a message here or via my other social media!

[akechicrimes]

Prompt 15 for ShuAke, please? (Your other answers are really really good, by the way.)

(aaaa THANK YOU yes of course!! also jsksjksjksjksjsj THIS PROMPT……. THANK YOU FOR THIS it was SO fun)

15. “Don’t tell me you’re fine, I can see the blood!”

akira has an adrenaline problem and is more reckless in sae’s casino that akechi expected. also akechi cares more about it than akechi expected.

***

The Thieves get overprotective of Joker in Sae’s casino, which is too bad, because it’s very big with many moving parts and it’s best for them to divide and conquer the place, which is how he explains it to them during a Thieves meeting that Akechi is not invited to. Also, when Joker splits them up into groups, Joker is sometimes paired up with only Crow.

The rest of the Thieves give each other unimpressed looks. “That’s… the opposite of reassuring,” Makoto says with a pained sigh.

“If anything happens, I’ll be fine. Plus, Futaba knows where I am at all times, and she can always reach me through the comms. I’ll say something if anything happens.”

Everyone gives each other such a significant look that Akira wonders if maybe the Thieves are having secret meetings that he isn’t invited to, either. But they don’t push him on it.

He asks Ryuji about it when everyone else has gone, Haru’s taken Morgana for the night, and it’s just the two of them in Akira’s attic. “We’re just… worried for you,” says Ryuji, scratching the back of his head. “The entire reason Akechi’s even here is to kill you, right? Guy’s a liar and probably a murderer and we don’t even know how dangerous he is. His Persona’s already crazy strong and Makoto thinks he’s got more tricks up his sleeve, too.”

Akira thought that through already. The probability is that Akechi can’t kill him until they’ve gotten to the end of the palace, and stolen Sae’s “heart” on the exact day that Akechi requested. On the other hand, it’s still just a probability. Maybe Akechi can kill him whenever he wants. “It’ll be fine,” says Akira.

“I mean, I know that,” says Ryuji, and sighs. “I guess… it’d be one thing if we just thought he might kill you the second we’re not lookin’, but I–I dunno. We were all worried ‘cause we thought that you kept pairing yourself up with Crow on purpose ‘cause you liked that he might…”

Ryuji trails away. “Uh, actually, never mind. Sounds dumb now that I say it aloud, honestly. Forget about it. See you tomorrow.”

“See you,” says Akira.

***

Akira Kurusu is a good boy, who lived in a good town, with a good family, with only good neighborhoods. There were never any bad neighborhoods to duck into and pick any fights with the wrong kind of people. There were never any bad bars to lose yourself in and make out with the wrong person. There were no criminals or thieves or so-called bad influences for a boy to get involved in.

Akira Kurusu is still a good boy. He lives in Tokyo now. He never finds himself so furious he can’t think, and he never heads to Mementos to punch shadows full of bullet holes, or (hopefully) get the shit kicked out of him. Akira Kurusu never scales the highest, tallest buildings in the Metaverse’s palaces, just to feel the ice-cold fear in his stomach hit him like a shot of vodka. Akira Kurusu never cuts it too close to the Palace deadline, just to feel the danger prickle on the back of his neck, or see the nervousness in his teammates’ eyes. He never makes an alliance with someone who doesn’t love him, just to wring some mutual benefit for the both of them like pulling blood from a stone.

Akira Kurusu never lurks on the school roof, or picks up shifts at Crossroads, or skulks in alleyways long after his bedtime, hoping for some douchebag to take a dislike to his face and give him a good reason to get some blood under his nails and feel alive for an hour. Whoever walks the Tokyo streets is some nameless, faceless specter, of no future and no past, to disappear when the sun rises. 

Akira Kurusu is a good boy who gets good grades and runs Sojiro’s coffee shop when Sojiro is out. His face is blank and impassive, and there’s definitely no grudges locked behind his teeth. He goes to school on time and answers all the questions right and speaks to no one. He doesn’t think about girls. He also doesn’t think about boys. 

Akira Kurusu is a good boy, who, one day at a TV station, met another good boy named Goro Akechi, who smiled politely and said all the right things, who never had a bad thought in his head or a fury in his throat. When Goro Akechi comes to set up camp in Leblanc, it is of course no problem, because Goro Akechi is a good boy who would never wait for hours just to see the whites of his prey’s eyes, and Akira Kurusu is a good boy who’s never done anything wrong, and never hungers for the sharp jolt of being pursued pressed like a blade against his neck. 

Because they are both two very good boys, it is never a threat when Goro Akechi smiles at him in the subway station, and Akira’s smile back to the quick heartbeat of adrenaline is never real.

***

Anyway, the next day a Ganesha throws Joker through a slot machine.

“Joker!” Crow is probably saying, although Joker can’t hear a whole lot while upside down and covered in casino chips and bits of machine parts. Joker appreciates the concern, though, considering that Joker’s just split up the group again, and it’s only Joker and Crow against this brick shithouse of an elephant god. When Joker springs back up, his coattails and bits of bloody chips go flying; his whole body is singing. Crow says, “Hamao–”

That’s Joker’s least favorite move. No fun when Crow’s Hamaons or Mudoons land right, and the shadow drops clean like a cut puppet, no blood, no mess, no struggle. “Hecantoncheires!” Joker interrupts, and feels another chunk of his life force get gouged out as payment for a Swift Strike. 

“Ganesha resists physical!” Crow snaps.

Joker pulls out his gun and unloads the whole clip and only stops when Crow kicks him out of the way of Ganesha’s angry swipe. “It’s weak to Psychokinesis, Joker! Finish this quickly!”

Trust Crow to have memorized all the shadows’ weaknesses. He sounds just like Queen does when Joker’s not taking it seriously enough for her. Joker pulls Kunishinada from his soul and casts a weak Psi, sweeping the shadow right off its massive feet to hit the ground with a floor-shaking crash. Joker pulls out his dagger. If Ganesha was going to beg or bargain, Joker’s not interested. He wants a good old-fashioned fight.

When Joker’s dagger slices through Ganesha’s fat stomach, Ganesha’s death throes slam a fist right into Joker’s back, crushing him and tearing Joker’s dagger straight through Ganesha’s body. Ganesha explodes into shadow dust and a shower of yen. 

When Joker stands back up, he can feel himself beaming like a maniac, and Crow seems to almost smile back just out of pure shock. And with the Ganesha gone, it’s just Joker and the last and only enemy that mattered in the middle of the casino floor, surrounded by the Sae’s machines chattering out numbers of the highest, highest stakes. Joker’s enemy is sizing Joker up in the wake of battle, examining the blood streaking down his face; Joker’s enemy is sweeping his body from head to toe with his dark red eyes, lingering at the cinch of Joker’s vest waist, the high collars. Joker’s enemy’s eyes are wide. 

“Gorgeous,” says Joker, and then collapses.

Crow’s over him in a second, but before he can say anything, Oracle’s voice comes over the line: “Joker? Your reading’s are a little wonky, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” says Joker. He sounds remarkably fine, actually, considering that his vision’s going a little grey.

“You’re not–”

Joker presses a finger to his own lips. Crow shuts up, his eyes glittering and rapt. “I’m fine,” says Joker again to Oracle. “It was just a skirmish with a shadow. Nothing big.”

“Uhhhhhh… Okay? You know where the safe room is if you need it? Noir’s not too far away if you need a hand, too.”

“Thanks, Oracle.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” says Oracle, which makes Crow’s lips purse for some reason. The line clicks off. 

“Don’t tell me you’re fine,” says Crow immediately. His voice is shaking.

“I am fine.”

“I can see the blood–!”

“That’s a flesh wound.”

“This is no time for jokes,” says Crow sharply.

“Worried?” asks Joker. His to-be murderer, fretting about death coming a little too soon for his tastes? Ah, his to-be murderer is tracing his gloved fingers by Joker’s exposed and open neck. 

Crow ignores him. “Robin Hood doesn’t know any healing spells. Can you heal yourself?”

“I’m out of magic.”

Crow looks like he’s trying very hard to be a good, straight-laced detective who doesn’t say “fuck” and also doesn’t panic. Crow is taking deep breaths, like he’s the one who go punched in the chest twice by a two-thousand pound elephant. “That was incredibly foolhardy of you.”

“It was just a bit of fun.”

“Pardon me for saying so, but what part about getting the shit kicked out of you was fun?”

Joker has the stupidest, goofiest smile on his face, he knows, because he’s half-drunk on all his wounds and, in his defense, there is a very pretty murderer with a sharp, sharp sword and gun that never misses staring down at him, their masks close enough to touch, Crow’s hands close enough to strangle him to death right there on the casino floor. Joker wants to see what would happen if Crow tried. “It’s not fun if it can’t at least kill you,” he says, more sincerely than he meant to. 

Crow’s throat works and swallows hard. His hands are tight around Joker’s chest. “I–think I have some medicine in my pocket,” he says suddenly, and tears his eyes away. It turns out that he actually does, surprisingly, in the form of one of Takemi’s pill packets and a crushed protein bar. Crow watches Joker carefully to make sure that Joker actually takes them both. He keeps watching everything Joker does, really, from the way Joker pulls the packet apart, to the tiny bites he takes, to his careful swallows. When Joker spits a wad of blood out to clear his throat, Crow stares at it like he’s never seen the color red before.

“Let’s go back to the others,” Crow says, when Joker’s finished regaining whatever strength he can. “We can hardly have the illustruous leader of the Phantom Thieves dying here.” And all the way back, Crow refuses to leave Joker’s side.

For Joker’s to-be murderer, Crow seems to care an awful lot about whether or not Joker lives or dies, Joker thinks. 

***

(i love procrastinating. send a prompt)

[purplesurveys]

1175

What’s the last vegetable you ate, and when did you eat it?  My dinner had broccoli and bell peppers in it.

What was your last Facebook notification for?  It was Aliyah replying to our comment thread on one of my posts. There wasn’t anything in her comment that was worth replying to anymore, so I just reverted with a Haha react.

What bands have you seen live? Paramore, Coldplay (not super legally), and One Direction.

Tell me an interesting fact about your mother:  She almost became a flight attendant, but she failed the final screening because of her height. I think the idea of her nearly having a completely different career is very interesting.

What do you think is the most important thing to happen to you before the age of 13?  In my case, probably getting my period. I got my first one when I was barely 10.

What were you super against as a young child but aren’t anymore?  Chicken curry. I also hateeeeeeeed Dora the Explorer with a passion, but now I find the show hilarious haha.

What are your plans later today? My work sched this week had been so fucking PACKED, that I want to do nothing but catch up on sleep all weekend. But seeing as I’m a proponent of revenge bedtime procrastination, I also highly doubt I’d let myself fall into a nap (Exhibit A: Me currently taking this survey at 2 AM...) If anything, I’ll probably just continue watching BTS In The Soop and finally start on Season 2 of Bon Voyage.

Are you doing anything exciting this weekend?  Well, it’s the weekend already, so...that ^ I will also have to take Cooper to the vet this Sunday.

Who do you talk to the most? Other than my team at work, Angela. I’ve been extra talkative these days because of our now-mutual excessive love for BTS, that I sometimes feel bad that I keep bombarding her with messages.

What are some things you do regularly that make you feel old?  Talk to my friends who are still in college, especially when they update me about the current happenings in UP that I have absolutely no clue about anymore.

Who is your best guy friend(s)?  I don’t have any best guy friends.

Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker?  Neither; I’m fine with my tannish skin tone.

If you had a tiny scar on your face, would you get it removed or just keep it?  Keep it; I already do.

Have you had an x-ray in the past year? Nah. My last one had been nearly 5 years ago, when I needed to get my back checked for scoliosis.

Do you think your first love still loves you?  No. And that’s okay. :)

What is something that is “going right” in your life?  EVERYTHINGGGGGGGGGGG I am so so happy with my life right now weeeee. I have the job of my dreams – I’m even working with THE ACTUAL K-POP GROUP SLASH PHENOMENON SLASH ICONS BTS for one of the clients I handle FHKDHGKHGFDKGHDKGH, I have the best and most supportive friends in the world, and I am now starting to grow my collection of BTS merch with my hard-earned money. Everything is going abso-fucking-lutely perfectly, and to think I didn’t think I would make it past 2020.

When did you feel ready to start dating?  Middle of high school.

When was the last time your pet bit you? If you don’t have a pet, have you ever been bitten by someone else’s?  I was play fighting with Cooper earlier tonight, and he got a little bit excited and ended up biting my upper lip quite harder than usual. It stung for a while, but it’s okay now.

Where were you the last time you made out?  I think it was my bedroom.

When was the last time you cried tears of joy? Yesterday.

How do you type your sad smileys?  Just this :(

Do you have “decorative hand-towels” that cannot be used in your house?  Nope.

What was the last soda you drank?  Probably the Coke I drank at an org event last year, pre-pandemic, out of sheer thirst. There wasn’t any water being served so I just gulped down the soda and tried to ignore the annoying fizziness. I don’t drink soda.

What was the last thing someone made fun of you for?  I was having a video call session with my workmates this afternoon as a way to end the week on a good note, and I recounted my experience of being locked out of the office while I was in the middle of a presentation for a client, and how I managed to get myself back in.

Have you ever had any type of surgery?  Nope.

Should kids be allowed to get tattoos/piercings without parental consent?  No.

Who was the last person to hit on you?  No one has in a while.

What was the last thing you decided not to do, that you were supposed to?  A deliverable a client asked me to do. It can wait til Monday.

What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to tell someone?  Maybe straight up admitting to my mom that she can be hurtful sometimes. It’s hard because she never actually processes things like that and they do nothing but vanish into thin air, even though it takes everything in me to be that honest.

What do you put on hot dogs?  Mayonnaise.

Ever fallen in the shower?  Like once, when I was 10 or 11.

What’s the worst thing you’ve ever called someone you care about?  Continued from last night. It was probably ‘bitch.’ Based on what I’ve learned from my mom, I put extra effort in particuarly watching what comes out of my mouth, because I know how words stick.

Do you think that things will get better?  I did, and now it has.

Have you ever legitimately saved a person’s life?  I think I may have. The story is a little triggering though, so I wouldn’t share it.

What’s your favourite book genre?  Doesn’t really count as a genre but I like auto/biographies.

Have you ever walked out of a movie at the theatre?  I’ve felt like it, but I’ve never done it.

Do dogs like you?  Yes, at least for 99.5% of my experiences.

Would you say that you project an air of authority?  In certain circles. But there are some groups where I trust others to lead rather than me.

Have you ever jumped off a high dive into a pool?  Nah, because I’ve never seen one. But even if I did, I think I would be too scared to do it hahaha.

Do you use one towel when you shower or two? (one for hair, one for body)  One. I use it to wash my entire body already.

Have you ever been to one of the great lakes?  No.

Who do you know that had a baby recently?  The son of one of my old college instructors. I believe she had been born in March because that prof recently posted family photos on Facebook that celebrated the baby’s first monthsary.

Do you like Usher’s songs?  Not in particular.

When was the last time you went to a waterpark?  Not a big fan of these as I find them unhygienic haha. The last time must have been...like anywhere between 12-15 years ago.

Have you ever ridden a train? Just once, and I had to go with Jum because I didn’t want to go alone.

What do you eat your French fries with?  Mayonnaise. If there isn’t any available, I’d want the fries to at least be generously sprinkled with salt; otherwise I’d find it too bland.

Do you have family problems?  Nothing blatant, but I know we are more dysfunctional than how we make it out to be.

What’s the last food you ate that was stale?  Pizza. I got two extra large boxes for my birthday last Wednesday and until now we still have some of it around :((( I ate some slices at around 3 AM earlier and they were tough as fuck to chew, hahaha. Still good, though.

How do you like your grilled cheese?  I don’t have grilled cheese sandwiches often. Surprise me.

What is the most challenging meal you have ever cooked?  I don’t cook.

What was your favorite thing to do as a little kid?  I liked watching my cousin play video games; playing outside; and answering my friends’ autograph books (aka my pre-survey days, lol).

Have you ever been close to drowning? Yup but just once. I was swimming and was just about to come up for air when one of my cousins, coming from the bottom of the pool, suddenly started to playfully pull me down. I was nearly out of breath by then and he had a much stronger grip on me, so I struggled for a while and ended up panicking and thrashing around a bit before I was able to wriggle myself free.

Have you ever had a panic attack?  It’s rare that it happens, but when it does it’s really bad and there’s no telling when it would subside.

Do you like doing housework?  Some, and only if I’m in the mood to. If I feel like I have to do it, then I get lazy.

Would you ever get implants?  I considered it before as a teen, back when small-chested girls were still bullied or made fun of on an everyday basis. How fucked up is that? I’m so relieved at how much social media has progressed.

Do you own a robe?  No.

Do you have a little sister? What’s her name? I have a younger sister but she’s barely a baby; she’s literally turning 21 this year. Nina.

Do you like crust on pizza or do you cut it off?  I like crust as long as it’s normal crust or stuffed crust. I can’t stand thin crust.

What was the last song you listened to?  Euphoria - credited to BTS, but it’s a Jungkook solo.

Have any of your family members been to jail?  Not blood relatives, but I know of super extended unrelated family members who’ve been to prison. Is there anyone that you feel you still need some closure with?  I don’t think so. Sometimes no closure is closure.

Can you remember when you first learned how to read?  I can’t, actually. All I remember is that I suddenly wanted to read everything by the time I was 5 and asked for nothing but storybooks every Christmas.

What event in your life has transformed your personality the most?  College. Gabie also had a very big influence on me during our relationship.

Have you ever had any teeth pulled?  Yes, but it was because it was already decayed.

Do you still want to be what you wanted to be in elementary school?  No, but I do elements of it in my work so that works out well for me. I wanted to be an author when I was in grade school, and today I regularly write various materials in my job.

What’re some TV shows that you would like to get into?  I just wanna get reconnected with The Crown again. I was already into it but I had to stop watching for a LONG time, because the show had some personal connections to my ex and so it seemed hard to get into the new season without breaking down lol. Now that I’m doing fine, I feel like it’s a good time to revisit the show.

How would you feel if you were drafted for the military?  Won’t happen here, but it’s the kind of situation where I wouldn’t really have a choice and would have to follow.

What is your favorite Queen song?  I don’t have any.

Do you know how to use any foreign currency? What do you mean, use...? Don’t you just use money to pay?? Hahaha or if you mean convert, then yeah I know how to do that with several currencies – US dollar, Korean won, Euro, Japanese yen, and whatever official name the pound has.

Been kissed by someone who you knew was “bad” for you?  Nope.

Ever taken an at-home pregnancy test?  I have not.

When was the last time you were at a loss of what to do?  I usually don’t have plans laid out on weekends these days anymore, so lately it’s all been a matter of winging it and just wanting to make sure that by the end of the day I get to say I made the most out of my free time.

What did you do on your favorite date with a guy/girl?  The time we did museum hopping + Italian dinner, or the one where we had French dinner + jazz bar.

What’s a movie you have seen in the theater more than once?  I never do rewatches for movies still in cinemas.

What is the reason you’re still alive?  I was stubborn and wanted to see if life would get better; I didn’t want to leave my dogs behind; I didn’t want to miss out on how potentially great and exciting my life could end up being; I didn’t want to cause and leave an even bigger emotional rift on my family.

I’m so happy I stayed.

Have you ever had sex in someone else’s bed/bedroom?  Yeah. Not the best decision, and I wouldn’t do it again lol.

Do you ever brush your hair before you go to bed?  Sometimes, so that it doesn’t look like a bird’s nest when I wake up the next day.

Have you ever had a dream about sleeping with a celebrity? (You don’t have to give details.)  I don’t think so. I have definitely imagined it in...other ways, though.

Has anyone ever told you that they needed you? Do you think they meant it?  Both in the superficial and loaded senses, yeah. 

How did you feel when you woke up today? What was the first thing you thought about?  I felt kind of like shit, just because I slept for only 1.5 hours – my body automatically wakes me up by a certain time, no matter what time I fell asleep. And also because my back and shoulder muscles were killing me with how sore they felt.

Do you still tell your parents that you love them?  I show it, but I don’t say it. I’m pretty stingy when it comes to that phrase.

Have you ever said “I love you” to someone you weren’t going out with?  Yes? It shouldn’t be limited to people you’re dating? I express it to Anj and Andi all the time.

Have you ever been threatened before?  Sure.

Would you date someone with a physical disability?  Yes.

Think of the last person you had sex with. Do you think they’ve slept with anyone else since they last slept with you?  Purely guessing, it’s likely. I’m not updated about her life anymore, though; life has been going on as if she never existed.

The last time you dyed your hair, what color did you dye it?  I’ve never had it dyed.

Think of the last time you went out to eat. Who paid?  I went out by myself, so I paid.

Do you save at least 15 percent of your income?  Yeah. I had a very good saving streak in which I was able to save anywhere around 50-60% every month...and thennnn I became a fan of BTS early this month LOOOOOL so now I’m back to like square three when it comes to my savings haha. Like I still know my limits and when to fucking stop taking out money from my bank account, but I’ve been spending dramatically more than I have been in the last few months.

Do you ever go on Reddit? If so, what are some of your favorite subreddits?  I used to go much more regularly, to the point where it was a part of my daily routine. Now I go at least once a month. I usually check out the Ask Reddit (for anecdotes), Today I Learned (for trivia), and GMM subreddits. Sometimes I’ll get on the Squared Circle subreddit as well to be updated on wrestling.

Were you ever a flower girl or ring bearer in anyone’s wedding when you were little?  Many times as a flower girl, yeah.

Are your parents in good health?  Fortunately, yes.

Have you ever been a caregiver to a sick/disabled relative?  Nope.

Is there any type of medicine you can’t take? For what reason?  Not that I know of.

Do you have a favorite pair of pajamas? What do they look like?  I don’t have pajama sets since I find them too warm.

Do you have any interesting pillow cases?  Eh, I don’t think so.

If something on your body hurts, which part is it most likely to be?  Shoulder muscles or my lower back.

Are you more afraid of spiders or bees?  Bees.

Have you ever worn fake nails? If so, what did the last pair you wore look like?  No.

Is Russian or Native American history more interesting to you?  Native American.

[xxrainbow-princessxx]

Under the Surface - Leo x Isabella (N*FW, 🍋)

Synopsis: Follow on to ‘Unfortunate Accident’ Isabella is on the war path and Leo is in the firing line

This fic is for Day 11 of the CFWC Kinktober Challenge

Day 11: Creampie | Hate-Fucking | Leather

The words used in bold are included in this fanfic. Please only read if you are comfortable with the subject matter and also you are 18+. PSA completed.

TW: In this fic there is some violent behaviour between characters. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read

Tagging: @drakewalkerfantasy @itslaniquelove @kingliam2019 @kimmiedoo5 @mom2000aggie @lorirwritesfanfic @lorircreates @hopefulmoonobject @rafasgirl23415 @texaskitten30 @rainbowsinthestorm @desireepow-1986 @speedyoperarascalparty @liam-rhys @choicesficwriterscreations

The drive back to the Cordonian Palace was an icy affair and the tension could be cut with a knife. Their relationship had hit a rough patch recently with the Royal couple getting on each other’s nerves and accusations of Leo being quite attentive to the young, blonde attending he met in Boston: Isabella was not in the mood to play happy families. Slamming the car door behind her, the Laurentian Queen sucked in her cheeks as she followed her husband towards the drawing room that Natalia was in. “Natalia!” Isabella pushed passed Leo, making a beeline towards her daughter urgently checking her for any other bumps or bruises, “Mi querida...” Isabella sighed heavily as she tried to smile, hugging the small Princess and covering her with small pecks but Natalia wanted to go back to playing, “Mama...” she protested, “No more kisses!!” wiping her face with her arm as Jackson giggled. Isabella ignored the three men behind her as she checked the time on her Rolex, “Natalia...” she spoke firmly, “It’s already past your bedtime... mama can ready you a bedtime story...” Natalia’s hazel eyes looked across to Jackson before pouting sadly and Jackson reached out pulling on Isabella’s chiffon sleeve, “Can I hear a story too?” Isabella smiled, gently stroking his cherub cheek, “Of course mi amor...come...” Isabella stood tall in her Louboutin heels as she took the children’s hands glaring at the three men with complete distain as she led the children to bed.

“If looks could kill...” Drake mumbled downing his whiskey, “What happened when you picked her up?” Leo glared at him over his whiskey glass, his grip tightening around the crystal tumbler, “I’ll not even burden you with that... it was pretty rough...” Leo scowled as he stood up, walking towards the intricately decorated decanter, “... but whatever you hear tonight, it doesn’t leave these four walls Liam...” Leo barked as he poured more of the caramel coloured liquid into the glass before swirling it around. “I need a cigarette...” Leo sighed, “Drake?” Drake reached into his jeans pocket, removing a tobacco tin that contained some pre-rolled cigarettes. Liam raised his brow rather unimpressed but was only met with a chuckle from Drake, “Emergencies?” before he threw the tin across to Leo. The newly Crowned King of Laurentia took one out, tapping the filter end against the engraved metal. “Strike two...” Liam began to shake his head in desperation as Leo patted his blazer jacket whilst placing his cigarette into his mouth to find his zippo. With a mischievous grin, Leo winked at his brother and Drake, “Go hard or go home brothers... may as well make the screaming match worth it...” heading out onto the balcony into the cool Cordonian night air, with a flick of his wrist, Leo lit his cigarette and took a long drag allowing it to calm him as he exhaled slowly.

Isabella returned, her cheeks sucked in rolling her eyes to the left where Liam and Drake knew best to not speak. Without skipping a beat, Isabella barked, “Can you two get out?” folding her arms angrily as he brow raised. Liam’s brow began to furrow, “How dare...” Drake reached out holding his best friends shoulder to stop him in his tracks but Isabella was incensed pointing towards the door, “Unless you also want me to rip you both a new fucking asshole too, don’t have me repeat myself...” Leo flicked his cigarette into the ashtray beside him as he rolled his eyes mumbling, “Here we fucking go...” Isabella began to tap her foot as Liam and Drake hastily made their exit, “Are you going to hide out there all night?” The Laurentian Queen hissed towards her husband, “Its always like you to put your head in the fucking sand!” Leo took a deep breath, trying his hardest not to succumb to Isabella’s taunting. The former Crown Prince of Cordonia turned, walking quietly as his sea green eyes tried to stare down his petite wife, “Still not off of that fucking pedestal huh?” Leo growled towards the Laurentian beauty who began to slowly smirk much to Leo’s annoyance. “Pedestal?” Isabella began to laugh, “I’m not the one that those kids look up to and I’m also not the one who sidelines them... so excuse me if I am pissed off that the first time in months you’ve spent quality time with one of your daughters and this happens!”

“Get over yourself Isabella... it was an accident that could have happened anywhere!” Leo spat, “If you weren’t so preoccupied with everything, maybe, just maybe, you might have found time in your fucking schedule to come too and actually enjoy yourself!” sighing heavily he continued, “Ever since the Coronation, you have became a bigger pain in the ass than before...” Leo extended his hand out, almost pleasing with her, “it’s like every single piece of you is trying to find fault with everything!” Isabella rolled her eyes to the point that it began to hurt, “Don’t give me that shit Leo... if you actually came home every once in a while, I wouldn’t have to be!” “How many fucking times?!” Leo sighed heavily, “I told you I need to be here for Liam... I’m all he’s got!” Isabella slowly stepped towards Leo leaving barely an inch or two between them, her cheeks were sucked in, eyes narrowing with distain. Leo had hit a nerve and Isabella was not standing for it. Clenching her jaw, Isabella raised her hand and smacked her husband across the face, “How dare you!” Isabella screamed, “My father is barely three months in his grave and that’s what you say to me?” Isabella turned on her Louboutin heel walking away until she began to see red that removed any partial filter she had left.l as Leo shouted at her, “Don’t bring Felipe into this to try to make me feel fucking guilty... we were having problems way before he passed away!”

Immediately, the petite brunette turned back to face Leo to go in for the kill as he rubbed the sting from his cheek, “You know what?!” Isabella began to evilly laugh into Leo’s face, “You know what? Fuck you... and... fuck Liam too!” Leo clenched his jaw tightly as he commanded, “Isabella... that’s enough!” but defiantly, the petite brunette continued with her taunting. She was more than hurt, she was angry. As Isabella’s doe like dark chocolate brown eyes narrowed, glaring up at her husband, Isabella spat, “I really fucking hate you right now!” Leo leaned down towards her, his nostrils flaring as he held himself back seething, “The feeling’s mutual!” Isabella took a deep breath, pursing her lips, “Good!” She retorted as her eyes darkened locking onto Leo’s, their internal power struggle just kept bubbling to the surface as the tension in the room rose stemming from months of frustration. Leo growled as he removed his blazer jacket, throwing it onto the high winged back chair. His tensed muscles strained under his already tight crisp white shirt as his breathing became faster and heavier, “Bella... don’t fucking push me!”

There was a moment of silence between them as they glared into one another’s eyes until Isabella put her arms around Leo’s neck and jumped up into his arms. Their lips urgently crashed into one another, leaving the couple breathless, “This doesn’t change anything...” Leo grunted as his hands firmly caressed the petite brunette’s ass before he roughly pinned her to the adjacent wall. Isabella through her head back as her King peppered her neck hungrily with kisses, running her fingers through his sandy blonde hair until she grasped it in her hand pulling Leo’s head back to look at her before kissing him again passionately. Their tongues intertwined with one another as Leo pressed his body weight against the Laurentian beauty, holding her in place as he ripped open her chiffon blouse exposing her bare breasts. “Hey!” Isabella began to protest, “I liked this blouse!” but Leo began to kiss her again whispering, “Shut up...” against her lips before kissing her again. Isabella reached out and hurriedly unbuttoned Leo’s shirt, keeping his tie around his neck. Leo moved his hand as Isabella slapped it away barking at her husband, “Leave it!”

Stumbling his way across to the couch, Leo walked into the table holding the Crystal with Isabella’s heel knocking over the decanter and a handful of glasses, both of them so preoccupied to notice the noise as they smashed against the floor. Leo threw the petite brunette onto the couch and pulled off her shoes, firing them over his shoulder before running his hands up her thighs, feeling the buttery texture of the leather. Taking both her pants and thong off in one single rough pull, a growl left the Laurentian Kings throat as Isabella reached up, swiftly unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his trousers. Isabella beckoned Leo to sit before manoeuvring herself to sit on his lap to straddle him. Leo clenched his jaw as he groaned, feeling her wet core running against his already hard throbbing member. Isabella sat up, grabbing Leo’s thick shaft in her soft hand and lowered herself down until he was fully sheathed.

Isabella bit down on her lip as she whimpered, the feeling of fullness made her eyes roll back before she began to slowly bounce up and down on her husband’s length but Leo couldn’t help himself; he began to buck his hips in rhythm with the Laurentian beauty, roughly fucking her as his fingers gripped tightly onto her hips. Isabella wrapped Leo’s tie tightly around her hand as she pulled on it hard, bringing him forward towards her. Her dark chocolate brown eyes burned with a desire he’d never seen before, trying so hard not to moan out in ecstasy. Isabella gasped as Leo smacked her ass hard with a furrowed brow “That’s pay back for slapping me!” Isabella clenched down on her teeth as she seethed, “I still fucking hate you right now....” tightening the tie around Leo’s thick muscular neck even more as her core’s walls began to tighten around his member. Leo began to pick up the pace, mercilessly thrusting into the petite brunette as she dug her long, crimson red manicured nails into his muscular shoulders, scratching into his tanned skin.

Leo grunted as he felt the sharpness of her nails dragging against him, groaning loudly as both he and Isabella began to come. Isabella began to scrunch up her nose, immediately getting up from Leo’s lap, picking up her clothes and getting changed. “What... no cuddles?” Leo sarcastically quipped as he ran his fingers through his hair, watching as Isabella had to tie her blouse in a knot to close it over. The room fell quiet once more as Isabella tucked a piece of her long, chestnut brown hair behind her ear before looking over her shoulder towards the newly crowned King, “No...” she spoke bluntly, “... Natalia and I will be leaving tomorrow with or without you...” Leo began to shake his head as Isabella walked towards the door, “And don’t even fucking think of coming to bed... you can sleep here because I really don’t want to look at you any longer...” The Laurentian Queen slammed the drawing room door behind her, leaving Leo in an awkward position, but the question was, did he want to work on his marriage or not?