#my next project will be even more out there

[jellyfishline]

Sorry for adding unsolicited advice, but one of the most valuable things I've learned as a writer is how to push over this kind of block! So I'm gonna share a few strategies that have helped me, and might help other people too!

Strategy one: skip over it.

Literally don't write a transition. Just skip to the next interesting scene. Promise yourself you'll go back and write a smooth transition later. A shocking amount of the time when I come back to edit I find that I don't even need more of a transition at all. Sometimes, your brain is so stuck in the story that it doesn't want to leave any negative space, but the negative space of a new scene, a new chapter, or a new paragraph is what the story craves.

Strategy two: just describe it.

Don't try to write it nicely, prettily, or well. Write like you're making an instruction manual, or notes for an actor in a screenplay. Write "and then they walked into the room." Write "and the conversation was over." Write "the next day, [blank] happened." Again, a shocking amount of the time for me, writing it in plain language turns out to be what the story needed. And if it does need more detail, you can always add that detail later! It is so much easier to add frills once you've got the bedrock of a scene in place.

Strategy three: just dialogue.

Idk how often this happens to other people, but I often get tripped up trying to juggle dialogue, actions, body language, and internal monologue when writing. When that happens, I switch to writing just the dialogue in short exchanges, no dialogue tags or description, with only paragraph breaks and punctuation to structure it. This both frees me up from the paralysis of trying to write everything at once, and has the added benefit of really honing in on character voices. I love to try to give all my major characters a distinctive enough voice that you can work out who's talking by the cadence of their speech, even without dialogue tags.

Strategy four: outline it.

This is sort of an expanded version of strategy two. If you're really struggling, or if this transition is something you know is going to take a whole scene or a whole chapter and more than just a line or two of description, pause to write out the events in a short, descriptive, beat-by-beat way. "They talked. They argued. No one listened to each other. They all went to bed frustrated." Sometimes this beat-by-beat plotting will transform into something you can really use--fragments of dialogue, a solid description, a realization that you can restructure so an important piece of information doesn't actually have to go here--but if not you still have a workable framework to either propel you into the next scene or start building up into a meatier bit of prose.

Strategy five: just do it.

Putting this strategy at the end because while I think it’s a lot of writers' first instincts when coming up to a roadblock, I also think the inability to force ourselves through the boring miserable bits of writing and "just do it" is a major reason why projects get abandoned. Sometimes, you might find yourself in a position where you really do just have to write your way out of the problem you've made for yourself. In those cases, I think it’s a good idea to take a deep breath, be generous with yourself, and applaud yourself for showing up, even if you're only writing a sentence or two every day. Writing is hard! Even professionals have bad days. You don't have to burn yourself out putting words on a page. Take the pressure to perform off yourself, and just write what you can. Eventually you'll get past it, and the words will flow again.

writing is so funny because i could write nonstop for 9hrs and then hit a block where im like "how do i transition between this moment and the next?" and then i just dont touch it for 6 months

[r66dusthewriter]

heyy dear, can you write some fluff with daryl and gf reader where glenn gets one of those polaroid cameras and start taking pictures of everyone at the prison, and when he checked the photos he noticed that daryl is lovingly gazing at reader in all the photos they appear together? even when glenn or carol starts teasing daryl about it he still ask glenn if he can keep them🥰

Picture perfect

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

a/n: here goes another extra fic this week. I swear it won't always be like this but i have far too much free time and i don't know what else to do with myself.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none.

Era: Season 4

Word count: 0.9k

“You’re gonna run out of Polaroids,” Carol said with a smirk, arms crossed as she leaned over Glenn, who was hunched at a table like it was a science project.

He didn’t look up, just grinned. “Already did. Totally worth it, though…look at this.”

He fanned out a handful of glossy squares, all slightly curled and sun-warmed. Carol leaned in, her expression curious until she saw it. You and Daryl, in nearly every shot but the focus wasn’t on the two of you smiling. In most, you were doing something completely ordinary…laughing with Maggie, cleaning your knife or merely walking next to the others, but in every single one, Daryl was looking at you, really looking. Unfiltered, soft-eyed and completely unaware of the camera. Sometimes he was in the background, sometimes next to you but never not watching.

Carol blinked and looked up. “What am I supposed to be seeing here?”

Glenn smirked like a kid holding a secret. “Blackmail, Carol, gold-tier. I'm talking ‘Dixon blushing’ level ammo.”

Carol laughed. “Oh, no. You don’t wanna play that game, Glenn.”

“Oh but I do. He stole my candy bar last week, this is divine justice.”

Despite her warnings, when Daryl finally rode back from his run that afternoon, Glenn was already posted up by the third gate like he was waiting to serve papers.

Daryl climbed off his bike with dust and grime smudging his neck and arms and his crossbow still strapped to his back. He dropped his bag onto the seat and looked around, automatically searching for you.

“Looking for someone?” Glenn teased, a grin stretching on his face.

Daryl scowled. “You know where she’s at?”

“Depends. How bad do you want to know?” He paused. “That hatchet you got there’s pretty sweet,” Glenn said with a sly grin, nodding at the weapon strapped to Daryl’s bike.

Daryl squinted, suspicious. “Ain’t for you.”

“It is now,” Glenn smirked, pulling a single photo from his pocket like it was top-secret intel. He glanced around dramatically before flashing it.

The archer looked down at it, then let out a low scoff, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Think she dun know I look at’er like tha’?” he muttered, tapping two fingers against Glenn’s temple once, snatched the photo and then, thwap!, he flicked Glenn’s ear, muttering “You creepin’ on me now?”

“Ow! What was that for?!” Glenn hissed. “You’re the one gazin’ like a lovesick outlaw.”

“Ain’t news to her, dumbass. Now, move.”

Grumbling, Glenn backed off but a few steps away, Daryl’s voice called after him. “Hey, Glenn!”

He turned. Daryl just stretched his hand out and Glenn sighed like he’d just lost a poker game, face falling. “All of them?”

“All of ’em.”

A second later, a stack of photos landed in Daryl’s palm, photos he quickly tucked into his bag without another word, meaning to look at them more closely later.

The sun warmed your skin as you approached the scene, steps slowing as Glenn passed you on his way back inside, rubbing his ear with a crooked smile.

“Hey…” you said, brow raised.

“Hey,” he muttered, shooting a sheepish glance over his shoulder at Daryl. “He’s all yours.”

“Right...” You frowned confused, then turned toward Daryl with that big smile he always pulled out of you. “Hi, handsome.”

He glanced up, immediately straightening a little, lips twitching upwards as he hid something behind his back. “Hey.”

“What was that about?” you asked, motioning toward the way Glenn had gone.

Daryl shrugged. “Kid’s troubled.”

“And you’re not?”

He smirked, still holding something behind him. “Maybe, but ya like it.”

“That I do,” you grinned, stepping closer. “Now, what are you hiding?”

With a little grunt, Daryl pulled two leather-bound journals from behind his back. One was your favorite color and unsurprisingly, it made the gift all the more meaningful. Your jaw dropped.

“Are you gonna start journaling with me?” You asked excitedly, taking them both from his hands.

Daryl scratched the back of his neck, glancing down like it was no big deal. “Kinda tired of watchin’ ya do it alone before bed. Even started wonderin’ if ya got a secret crush or somethin’.”

You wrapped your arms around him, laughing softly into his shoulder. “It’s you, so not very secret.” He hugged you back then, gentle and a little awkward, like always…exactly in that way you loved.

“Ya gotta teach me what t’ write, tho’, or it’s gonna turn into sum’ creepy book ‘bout ya.”

You pulled back with a giggle. “Doesn’t sound awful”

“Really doesn’t.” He reached out to gently squeeze your side, making you yelp and bat his hand away, but the more you looked at him, the more you could tell he was still hiding something.

“So…what’d Glenn give you?” you asked, poking at his bag with the journals.

Daryl hesitated for a beat before pulling out the photos, thumbing through them like they were old keepsakes. “Journaling material, ‘cause he’s nice like tha’” he said.

“The…troubled kid” You repeated in the same tone he had used.

“Mhm, the one.” He pointed at the pictures now in your hands, “For scrapbookin’. That wha’ ya call it?”

You smiled and nudged his arm teasingly. “Look at you, already learning and collecting.”

“Kinda fell into my hands,” he mumbled.

“Uh huh. I’m sure it did.”

You watched him a second longer, your heart fluttering as he carefully took the photos and tucked them into his vest’s inner pocket, like they were precious.

“You always look at me like that?” you asked, pointing at where the pictures were now carefully kept.

He shrugged looking away, ears already a faint pink. “Nah. Just when yer breathin’.”

[bradleysass]

plane - @into-the-jeggyverse - wc: 612

James had barely fastened his seatbelt before he noticed the subtle grimace pulling at Regulus’ features. His boyfriend sat stiffly beside him, pale and a little too focused on the seat in front of him like it had personally offended him.

A low groan slipped from Regulus as he blinked hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing once, twice—telltale signs.

“Did you take the nausea medication while we were waiting?” James asked, voice low and concerned, already leaning in.

Regulus shook his head, the movement sharp and miserable. “Forgot,” he rasped.

James sighed, gently placing a hand on Regulus’ knee. “Darling, we were literally at the gate for half an hour. I gave you the bottle.”

“I thought it was a mint tin,” Regulus muttered through gritted teeth, eyes now squeezed shut. “I didn’t want to take your last Altoid.”

James blinked. “You thought the Dramamine was an Altoid?”

From two rows down and to the left, Sirius barked out an overly loud laugh, almost like he was trying to project it directly across the aisle. “Oi, Prongs! You see the guy in 17B? He’s wearing cargo shorts! In first class! We’re all going to die, aren’t we?!”

James didn’t even look over. He could feel Sirius waggling his eyebrows and elbowing Remus.

“He’s not even looking at you,” Remus murmured wearily, flipping through the in-flight magazine like he was trying to pretend he didn’t know the man next to him. “You’re embarrassing.”

“You’re just jealous because I’m the fun one on this romantic getaway,” Sirius declared.

“We’re not even going to the same place,” Remus mumbled.

Meanwhile, James dug through his carry-on with all the urgency of a man on a rescue mission. “Reggie, c’mere—lean on me,” he coaxed, pulling out a tiny toiletry bag. “If you’re gonna be sick, at least do it into something I don’t have to apologize to a flight attendant for.”

Regulus pressed his forehead to James’ shoulder, lips parted, breathing slow and shallow like he was at war with his own stomach.

“Just wait until we hit cruising altitude,” James said gently, brushing Regulus’ hair back. “It’ll get better, yeah? I’ll get you ginger ale, rub your back, let you listen to that creepy ambient playlist you like.”

“It’s not creepy,” Regulus mumbled against his shoulder. “It’s atmospheric.”

“It sounds like we’re stuck in a haunted ice cavern,” James said fondly, kissing the top of Regulus’ head. “Still love you.”

Another loud snort-laugh came from Sirius' direction. “Reggie, you okay over there? You look like you’re auditioning for The Exorcist. Need me to do my ‘sick cat’ impression?”

“Sirius,” Regulus growled without lifting his head. “If you even meow once, I’ll vomit directly into your shoes.”

“Bet,” Sirius whispered to Remus, who pinched the bridge of his nose.

James held Regulus a little tighter, now expertly massaging his boyfriend’s thigh in comforting circles. “Just breathe through it. You’re doing great.”

Regulus groaned again. “I hate muggle transportation.”

“Could’ve apparated.”

“You said this was more romantic,” Regulus gritted out.

“It was, until you refused to take the anti-nausea mint.” James grinned.

Regulus gave him a weak glare. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Only slightly. But mostly I’m planning how many forehead kisses you’ll need to survive this flight.”

“Seven,” Regulus muttered.

James leaned in and whispered, “One…” and pressed a kiss to his temple.

Regulus didn’t smile—but his shoulders dropped just a little, the tension easing.

Meanwhile, Sirius, still narrating their lives like a live podcast, was trying to convince a flight attendant to let him use the intercom for “emotional support announcements.” Remus was actively pretending to be asleep.

Cruising altitude could not come soon enough.

[eden-axe]

Midnight Critters

Summary: While Sylus is asleep you’re working on a project, when your greatest enemy crawls into the room. Now you must choose the lesser fear, stay with the bug, or wake Sylus.

Note: hihihihi the Caleb fic is coming, but this is a panic post because THERE WAS A HUGE BUG IN MY ROOM AND THAT IS ONE OF MY FEW PHOBIAS AND AHHHHHHHH! This fic is literally based off true events so please enjoy my panicked writing! It will not be proofread that much unless I check tmmr.

It was nearly 1 in the morning, you were working on a report for the Hunter’s Association, and even getting a spreadsheet of your expenses on Sylus’ card done for him. Sylus had gone to take a nap as you had taken him out for a day of fun in Linkon, and he had a few meetings later and he wanted to be as awake as he could for them.

You had been at it for over an hour since, after laying with Sylus until he fell asleep. You put the laptop down onto the couch and relaxed your shoulders, letting out a heavy silent sigh.

‘I can see why Sylus has someone to do his number’s for him.’ You thought, glancing back at the bright screen waiting for you to return. You stretch your arms over your head, and your legs as far as they would reach; accidentally kicking the coffee table as you reposition yourself.

You pick up the computer and laze about the couch, taking up as much space as you could. You reach over to the coffee table to grab your glass of water, and that’s when you see it. A brown, multi-legged beast. You can’t identify it as you toss the laptop across the couch and leap up to a higher place on the couch away from the creepy crawly.

Your hands start to shake as the bug crawls under the table, you can feel your breath become labored and you aren’t even sure you are breathing at certain points. You can feel bile rise up in your throat as you leap away from the couch and into the closest room, your bedroom. Where Sylus was resting.

You had not even noticed you entered that room as you made your way across the room, until you were next to the bed. You watched Sylus sleep peacefully, chest rising and falling at a steady pace, this was one of the few times he was able to relax. Even so, you knew that there were 3 guns, that you know of, that were near or on the bed in case of intruders.

Watching Sylus sleep calms you down a bit, until you realize you were the only one home to take care of the bug, and you know you wouldn’t be able to exist peacefully in the house until you knew it was gone. At the thought your hands started to tremble. You glanced between the door and Sylus, debating if you should wake him up or silently sit on the bed and try not to think of how many bugs were actually in the house that you were not aware of.

You kept reaching your hand to touch Sylus’ shoulder, but pulled back every time, ‘This isn’t his problem. He has more important things to do later, I can just wait until he’s up. But what if it brings friends?’ As you continue this back and forth in your mind and hand, you are suddenly pulled into the bed and brought into a warm embrace.

“You’re shaking, what’s wrong?” Sylus’ husky voice helps to ground you, the way it wraps you in a sense of protection courses you out of your panicked state for a moment.

Your face heats up at remembering how you got here, you try and dismiss it but Sylus tilts your face up. His eyes were focused, you wouldn’t have assumed that he was asleep moments ago, but the way he looks, the concern pouring out of him, you relents.

“You remember my um,” you fiddle with his collar, not knowing how to phrase your predicament, “…phobia?”

At how meek your words were Sylus sat up slowly, he left the bed and rounded it to hold his hand out for you to take. Your shaky hand grabs his firm steady one. You follow him to the door, but as he reaches for the knob, your legs start to feel weak.

Sylus turns around and holds your cheek with his free hand, “Just stay in the doorway and point me in the direction. I know you won’t be able to keep a peaceful mind unless you see it gone yourself.”

You lean into his hand and nod, he waits a moment, smiling at your trust in him before returning back to the true matter at hand: eliminating everything that harms your way of life.

You stop as he crosses the threshold of the bedroom and looks back at you. You point to the coffee table, telling him where you last saw it. He makes quick strides in getting there, kneeling down to glance under. When he rises you feel your heart rate pick up, but when you see Sylus smile your worry lessens, but confusion takes hold. He’s not looking at you.

You follow his gaze to the kitchen island and see Mephisto sitting on one of the chairs, bug in beak. When he knows you have seen the bug laying helplessly in his beak he flies away, to either eat or release somewhere outside, and you’d rather not know.

“I’m not the only one who wants to look out for you kitten.” You jump at how close the voice is, Sylus had walked over to the bedroom while you watched Mephisto leave. “I’ll call someone, maybe the twins, to do a whole search of the house for any more bugs. For now I’ll take you to a safe house near where I’ll be having my meetings, and Mephisto will watch over you until I’m back. Get some rest, wouldn’t want your heart to go into cardiac arrest, I quite enjoy having you around.”

You nod and rush to grab the computer, but before you could even leave the bedroom Sylus picked you up bridal style, “I’ll take care of it, just rest.” You listen and rest your head on his shoulder as you hear his evol move things around and closer to you both. By the time you make it to the car the adrenaline from your near panic attack had drained your energy and you had slept peacefully until dawn, where Sylus rested beside you. Mephisto watched the room diligently, and not a single bug in sight.

[dumpywrites]

Forget-me-not - Min Yoongi / Suga

Prompt: “Treat me like yours again for a week before you let me go.”

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Angst (happy ending), drama, idol Yoongi, engaged au, lots of hurtful pinning

Pairing: Yoongi x she/her reader

Word count: 7.6k

a/n: I've been really down the past couple of days and it turns out it inspire me to finish this story (I've been keeping it on my drafts for months T_T) Also, did you catch that ot7 live??? cus I'm still crying 😭😭😭

“You’re calling it off? Just like that?!”

The taste of the apple that you just bit was suddenly bitter in your mouth. It was a quiet Monday night when you were enjoying your alone time, eating fruits and reading e-books through your tablet. You knew your fiancé was going to come home around this hour. You just did not expect the news he brought along with him. 

It had been a little under a year since both of you decided to live together. You moved soon right after he proposed to you, but his schedule being so full, he was barely even home. 

It was just a blessing and a curse at the same time, him being an idol. While the group activities had slowed down recently, with the other members focusing on solo projects outside of BTS, Yoongi had only gotten busier. Just a few months after your engagement he got to finally establish his own record label. Of course you couldn’t be more happier for him, but higher position also came with higher responsibilities. 

The investor meetings, press conferences, artist assessments, and your man being Suga from BTS himself, still had some idol duties on the sides. 

But you were used to it. You were used to him being booked and busy. You had loved him for the longest time to understand that as much as you hated being far apart from him, you equally loved seeing him in his element, making music, putting smiles on millions of people’s faces. Because Yoongi’s happiness was yours too after all. 

So it was a shocking, humiliating even, for him to just come and said the vile statement he just said to you. He just got back from two weeks of his abroad job, and he chose to bring this news to you as a present. 

“I just think with how things are, I don’t have time for you. This is clearly hurting both of us so it’s better this way.” He said, expression blank and it was hard to read. 

“Yoongi, I’ve dated you for three years before getting engaged to you. I know your schedules and I’m used to it.”

“It’ll be different when we are married.” 

“It won’t.” You argued. 

“It will.” He sighed. “It will only get worse when we get married.”

“You do realize you get breaks and day offs, right? I can wait.” 

“I own a company now.”

You looked at him to see his expression. It was still blank as he stood in front of you. Sometimes you hated how stoic he could be, especially when he wanted to. It was breaking you, but you chose to remain collected. 

“If that’s your priority, then I get it.” 

You stood up from your seat with a big sigh. You saw his pupil moved in a frantic way for a second, before going back to normal. 

“I’ll move, you can have the—“

“One week.” You said, looking at him straight in the eye. 

He looked at you, stopping his sentence. 

“Treat me like yours again for a week before you let me go.” You folded your arms. “After that you can leave and we’ll be on our separate ways.”

Yoongi’s mouth opened, before it quickly closed to a stretched straight line. He looked like he was about to say something but he chose not to. He nodded his head at you, sighing. 

“Okay.” Was all he said to you. 

You took one last look at him before walking away, heading to the bedroom. You wondered if you could catch any sleep that night. 

When moonlight came Yoongi chose to sleep next to you, after all, that was what you had asked him to do. To treat you like his again, even just for the week. You had some hours alone with your mind, you had some thoughts of how you would act when he slip into the covers with you, but when it happened you really didn’t know what to say. For some time he only laid there, unmoved, and you started to wonder if he just fell asleep like that. 

You knew you had told him to do so, but it still didn’t hide the pain you were feeling when he slowly moved closer and hugged you from behind. He knew you were not asleep, of course he did. He always did. He didn’t say anything, just resting his forehead on your head, one hand over your waist to hold you close. You could feel his heartbeat and without knowing, the tears just started flowing on its own. You bit your lips, in hope that he wouldn’t notice, but then his thumb started to draw circles on your forearm. Maybe he noticed, maybe he did not. He chose to not comment about it though, which you were glad. That was why you chose not to say anything either when you felt your shoulder damp, some water droplets fell on your hair and onto your skin. 

DAY 1

The next morning you were awaken by noises coming from the kitchen. You thought he would be up in his studio at this hour, him being a light sleeper and all, but it seemed like he was cooking something at eight in the morning, judging by the delicious smell. You quickly brushed your teeth and head out to check on him. 

“Are you cooking?” You asked, slowly approaching him in the kitchen. 

“Yeah.” He said as he stir the rice on the wok.

You looked at him, giving him a funny look. 

“What?” He raised one of his eyebrows before turning up the stove’s heat, adding some minced meat on what seemed to be fried rice. 

“Nothing, it’s just that you don’t usually cook so early in the morning.” You said, retreating back and took a seat on the dining chair. You sighed, figuring it was just his acts for the week. 

“I haven’t cooked for you in a while.” He said, still string the food. “I also thought you would be up a little later.“

“I smelt the food, plus it was odd to find you in the kitchen at this hour instead of in your studio.” 

“You could, you know… sleep some more. If you want to.” He said with his back facing you as he cooked. 

“I’d rather watch you cook.” You smiled, even though he couldn’t see. 

Soon he came to the dining table with two plates in his hands, one that he placed in front of you, and one for himself. The smell of the food filled the room and you started to salivate. It was just a simple dish but knowing who cooked for you made it different. Yoongi went back to grab two glasses of water for both of you, before finally sitting down across of you. 

You were a tad bit anxious seeing the piercing look on his eyes, waiting for you to take a bite. And when you did, he immediately wanted a feedback. 

“So?”

“I like it. Has the right amount of spiciness.” You said with food still in your mouth. “You should cook this more often.” 

Your expression dropped when you realized that your request was soon about to be impossible, given the situation. Quickly, you looked down, choosing to focus on eating instead. 

“Glad you like it.”

You ate in silence after that, the kind of quiet that wasn’t as sharp as before. There was still pain between you, but it had been placed in the corner for now, like a box no one wanted to open just yet.

When he stood to rinse his plate, you said without looking up, “Do you remember the first time we made breakfast together?”

He paused at the sink. “You tried to make pancakes but used salt instead of sugar.”

“And you still ate them like an idiot.”

“I was trying to impress you.”

“By eating salted cement?” You asked with an amused smile. 

He grinned too. For a moment, the version of Yoongi you missed most stood there in front of you. Not the artist with the world on his shoulders. Just a man who once came to your apartment with multiple packets of different sizes of pads because he got too shy to ask which would be the appropriate one.

You watched him dry his hands, eyes focused on the towel. Something in his jaw tightened.

“Right.” You bit your inner cheek, trying to compose yourself. “How’s Namjoon by the way? I miss his little kid.” You started another topic, to drift away. 

“His son is doing fine and so is he.” He said and started eating as well. “I think his wife is expecting another…” 

“Really?! Wow, look at him… And to think he told us he didn’t want any children before…” You chuckled. “That guy is whipped. I’m happy for him.”

Yoongi looked at you and smiled. “Yeah.”

You and Yoongi had never mentioned anything about wanting kids in your life. The topic just somehow never came up. You used to want children in your family, but lately with how things with your work and Yoongi’s schedules, you figured it would be too much. Plus, you always had fear of change, and the idea of pregnancy scared you just a bit. But you had never heard anything from Yoongi if he wanted any or not. It would be too late to ask anyway. 

“Have you ever thought of having kids?”

You almost choked on clear water. “I’m sorry?”

“We never really talked about it before…” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“Do you?” You shot the question back at him.

“I never really thought about it but, I’ve always thought that I want whatever you want.”

Clearly not. You thought to yourself. “I… I used to want it. But seeing how busy both of us can be sometimes, I don’t think it’s possible. There’s enough people in this world anyway, we don’t need any mini me around.” You giggled. 

“A mini you sounds adorable.” His smile quickly faded when he seemed to realize his words. 

“I don’t think so. Kinda not possible with how we are now after all…” You gave a sad smile. 

“I—”

“No, let’s not talk about it.” You heaved a sigh and gave him another smile, even though you started to feel your eyes getting teary. 

The rest of the day was spent with the two of you just watching your old favorite movies together. You didn’t cuddle, but both of you rested your heads on each other and it was enough comfort for you. 

DAY 2

This time when you woke up, Yoongi was still asleep. Movie marathoning was fun until it was four in the morning and both of you overslept on the couch. You found Yoongi sleeping, head resting on your lap, and the urge to run your finger through his hair was high, but you didn’t want to risk waking him up in the process. He looked so calm, and you missed just seeing him like this. He always looked like a cat, especially when he was asleep. He would even sometimes let out noises that sounded like a purr. 

You let yourself sleep more, maybe another ten minutes. 

The sound of the phone ringing could be heard from the table, Yoongi’s ringing and vibrating on it. He took the call and sounded like he was never asleep. Sometimes you wonder how he could behave so inhumane like that. 

He looked up when he noticed you staring. “What is it?”

You hesitated. “Let’s go out after your call.”

“Out? Don’t you have meeting today?”

“I’ve taken the week off.” You simply said.

Yoongi hesitated for a moment, before speaking. “Where to?”

“The bookstore cafe. The one near the station. Remember? That place… we haven’t been there in a while.” You fidgeted with your fingers. “We used to go all the time.”

He didn’t answer right away, and you wondered if he’d say no. Maybe the week you asked for was already too heavy for him. But he just nodded. 

“Yeah. Okay. After the call.”

The cafe was exactly the same. It smelled like spiced tea and old pages, the lighting was still dim in that warm, cozy way, and the bookstore shelves remained haphazard and charmingly messy. There was a new girl behind the counter, but the man who used to run the place, Mr. Han, was still stood in his usual spot by the register, glasses perched halfway down his nose.

“Well, well! Look who crawled back from the dead…” Mr. Han said with a teasing smile.

You laughed. “Don’t say that, you’ll scare the tourists.”

Yoongi offered a polite smile, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets. “Sorry we disappeared.”

“You two were the royalty of table six.” Mr. Han said, nodding toward the back. “You left a hole when you stopped coming.”

That made Yoongi pause. You tugged him by the sleeve toward your old booth before he could slip into guilt.

The booth was still tucked into the corner, the cushions worn and soft from years of use. It had seen a lot. Your first real conversation after weeks of quiet flirting, being in all masks and hoodies, your first fight over miscommunication and missed texts, Yoongi’s confession on an evening when he looked terrified and brave all at once, to when you could finally date in normal attire after deciding to publicize your relationship. 

You slid into the seat and glanced across at him. “Do you remember that night you asked me if I’d be your emergency contact?”

He snorted. “I remember the shock in your face.”

“You asked me if I want to be the first one to get called if you die… with the straightest face.” You argued. 

“You still said yes.”

You shrugged, smiling as you looked to the ceiling. “I was so in love with you.”

He flinched. It wasn’t visible, not really. But you knew Yoongi too well. You knew how his eyes darted slightly when something hit too close, how his fingers tightened a fraction against the cup of coffee he had in his grasp. You didn’t push. 

You looked out the window and said, “We had some good memories here.”

“Yeah.” Was all he replied back. 

You spent two hours there, talking mostly about books you never had time to read and music he’d been working on. You showed him a ridiculous meme on your phone, and he actually laughed. He laughed like he used to. The wall between you cracked just slightly.

When it was time to go, you thanked Mr. Han and waved goodbye. Outside, the wind bit at your cheeks, and you tucked your hands into your coat pockets. Yoongi hesitated beside you.

“You looked really happy in there.” He said, his voice soft.

“Because I was.”

He glanced over. “It’s been a while since I saw you like that.”

You met his eyes. “That’s what happens when you disappear into work.”

He didn’t defend himself and just nodded quietly. But he didn’t walk away either. He walked with you to the car, his shoulder brushing yours the entire way.

At night before you head to bed, he pulled you gently and placed the lightest kiss on your temple. It could be just you but you saw a glimmer of hope in him. Or it could be the agreement playing the part. 

DAY 3

You were awoken by Yoongi’s eyes staring at you. He greeted you with a warm smile, uttering a good morning to you. You smiled back, scooting closer in his embrace, salivating the moment. 

This was how a normal morning goes for you, at least when he was home. Sure you would always miss him when he went away for his concerts, tour, or any other job that required him to be not home, but every time he came back, the feelings would always just reset. It was so easy, so effortless, to forget when you see his face and feeling him close to you again. He made it easy. 

“Any plans today?” He asked, resting his chin on top of your head, embracing you still. 

“This,” You smiled with your eyes closed. “This is the plan.” 

“As much as I’d love that, we gotta eat something.” He chuckled. 

“Nope.” You giggled. 

You ended up snuggling and sleeping in for the next two hours and a half, until you heard your own stomach rumbled. 

The day was supposed to be a slow day with little to no work to do. Yoongi had some songs that needed quick revision, but nothing he couldn’t do at the comfort of his home studio. 

You decided to bring him some coffee to his studio. There he was leaning back on his chair with his headphones on, bopping his head a few times to the beat that was unheard. 

“Yoongi?” You called upon entering the room. He didn’t seem to notice you until you placed the cup of coffee on his table. 

“Oh, thanks.” He said after removing his left earpiece and took a sip of the beverage. “Just a few tuning and I’ll be done.” 

“Take your time.” You said, taking a chair next to him. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

“Never.” He said without meeting your gaze as his eyes went back to the monitor screen. 

You gulped, suddenly feeling a bit tensed and leaned against the seat.

“Do you wanna listen?” 

“Oh?” You were taken aback. “It’s done already?”

“It’s just the instrumental. Jungkook will sing the song.” He said after clicking some buttons. 

“What’s the title?” You rested your hand on top of the table. 

“Haven’t really decided on it but…” He stopped and removed his earphones entirely. “Here, let me show you the lyrics.” He handed you his notebook. 

You skimmed through the lyrics and wondered to yourself. Since when did Yoongi learn to write corny and cheesy love song? And the more you read through it, the description, the tiny mentioned details, it sounded like he was so smitten that he had to pour his entire feelings out on this song. Mind you this was the same guy who wrote and performed Daechwita. 

“You’re telling me you wrote this?!” You said while still re-reading the lyrics. 

“What’s with the judgmental look?” He looked at you in disbelief. 

“It’s just— Yah, have you ever even fell in love like this?! This doesn’t sound like you.” You frowned.

“I wrote this years ago.” He smiled, taking another sip of the coffee you made him. “This was way before we were even a thing.” 

Your expression turned sour. “So it’s about an ex?”

“Silly, it’s about you.” 

Your eyes widened in surprise. “It’s about me?!”

He puffed a breath and smiled, showing his gummy grin. “It clearly said, you looked through me beyond the glamour.” He pointed at the notebook that was still in your hands. “You were quite literally our makeup artist’s assistant for two years.”

It was true. You used to work under Big Hit for a while until you decided to resign. You and your friends took a huge risk and decided to start your own private brand, and so you needed to step back from the company. 

The job was how you met Yoongi and the rest of the boys. Somehow you would often get assigned to do his makeup. Yoongi was rather quiet the first few gigs, but judging by the cold exterior you thought he’d be rude, but he ended up being the sweetest man you had ever known. Second to Jimin of course because that man’s an angel. 

It was that one time you accidentally dropped a bottle of foundation on the floor. You just started the job, barely four weeks into it, and you already did something so fatal. You arrived early and there wasn’t anyone in the room, but the sound of the breaking glass was loud enough. The door soon opened and you were expecting it to be the head makeup artist, but much to your surprise, it was Yoongi who peeked through the door, asking about your well being. 

You were lost for words as your vision only went back and forth from your hands to the shattered glasses and the complexion colored mess on the floor. Seeing your shocked state, Yoongi calmly called the cleaners and told you to take a seat. There were multiple apologies and thank yous came out from your mouth before he just took out his phone from his pocket. He tapped on the screen and browsed through his apps before handing the phone to you, shocking you even more. 

“Here, just order the same one, the instant delivery is quite fast.” 

You were begging to pay him back, but Yoongi was a man of his words, so he kept resisting. One day you just showed up at the set and got him iced americano to show your gratitude, even though you knew the price tag wasn’t equal. And the rest was history. 

“Didn’t know you were into me like that.” Even though you were rolling your eyes, your cheeks couldn’t hide the pinkish glow. 

“I thought I told you that I basically had a huge crush on you when we first met.” He snickered. 

“You did, I just didn’t expect the romantic song…” You tried to avoid his gaze. 

“Come on, you genuinely think I would just buy you a bottle of overpriced makeup if I don’t have any ulterior motive?! Money was tight at that time, you know!” He laughed. 

You couldn’t help but to laugh as well. “To think that I fell for the sweet guy who helped me. Turns out he had malicious intent.”

“In my defense I would still help you nonetheless. I’d probably cover for you and makeup some bullshit. But the whole buying a new bottle was a smart way to get our connection going.” He proudly smirked. 

“We were so dumb back then, huh?” 

“I guess so.” He shook his head and smiled. 

“But I don’t regret a thing.” 

You said without thinking. You watched as the sparkle on Yoongi’s eyes went off and he quickly turned back to his computer screen. 

You spent that night looking at his back facing you, wondering if he ever regretted meeting you. 

DAY 4

You woke up with your bed empty. It wasn’t something that was new to you, in fact, you knew exactly where he was. 

This time when you found him in his studio, a low tune was playing. He turned his chair to your direction instantly upon hearing the door creaking open. 

You peeked with a tea in hand. “Were you up all night?”

“Only been here since five.” 

You carefully took a seat next to him, studying his facial features. He seemed distressed, you could clearly see the creases forming on his forehead. 

“What’s bothering you?” You asked. 

“You said we’d treat each other like before, right?”

Your eyes widened, but you remained calm. “Yeah?”

“Then let’s play music and just sit with me.”

At first you didn’t think too much about the song choices he made. Sure you had listened to them but so what, you were aware that both of you had similar taste in music. But by the time the third song played, your heart clenched. It was your playlist. The one he’d made for your third anniversary. 

When ��free love” by HONNE started playing, you knew it was over for you. You could recall exactly when the song started playing, and Yoongi had a bouquet of peonies in his hands, walking sheepishly to you in your old apartment. He had never gotten you any flowers before. You just couldn’t see the appeal in buying impractical things when there were many more ways to show love. Everyone who had ever dated you were made aware of that. But one day you randomly mentioned that you sometimes wondered how would it feel to receive flowers romantically. Hence, why he did it. 

You remembered how it was awkward at first, both of you bursted into laughter for a good minute, before you took the flowers from his hands, and took his lips in yours. 

You turned to look at him, surprised. “Is this our…”

His eyes stayed on the screen. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t know you still had it.”

“I never deleted it.” He leaned back on his seat. “It’s a nice playlist to come back to when I’m stressed.”

You didn’t know what to say to that so you didn’t say anything. Instead, you stood up and moved to the center of the studio room. Yoongi watched you with confusion in his eyes. 

Then you held your hand out. “Dance with me.”

“Are you serious?!” 

“Very.”

He raised an eyebrow. A small smirk appeared on his lips. “You know you suck at dancing.”

“You see women who dance well all the time, I’m seasoned differently.” You giggled. 

That made him laugh. A real one. The kind that showed his gums a little, made his eyes crease at the corners. You hadn’t seen that laugh in months. 

He did take your hand.

You danced barefoot in the studio, swaying slowly across the carpet as if time hadn’t moved at all. Your fingers curled in his shirt. His hand rested on your lower back, warm and familiar. It wasn’t romantic, not fully. But it was close. Too close.

I can't get you all that stuff

But I can give you all my love

Free love

Are the simple things enough?

I got to give you all my love

Free love

When the song ended, neither of you let go right away. And when you looked up at him, he was already looking down at you.

“Do you ever miss us?” You asked without giving further thought.

His breath caught. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something. Like the words were right there, sitting behind his teeth, waiting to be let go.

“Let’s not talk about missing things today.” 

You nodded slowly, expression turning cold. “Okay.”

You stepped back, but your fingers lingered on his. He let them go last.

Soon he went back to his chair, eyes glued back to the multiple screens in front of him. You sat there in silence, not wanting to bother him but reluctant to leave. Your tea halfway empty, now cold, sitting on the desk. 

There was an opened notebook on the far left corner of his table. With some torn pages stuck in the middle, some looked crumpled and had torn edges. Some crossed-out lines, lyrics with arrows leading to new ones, some even scratched out entirely.

Your eyes fell on a section dated not many weeks ago. 

Daydreams don’t have deadlines. But love does, doesn’t it? How long can she wait before she stops?

Your whole body froze after you read the words. 

“I wasn’t going to use those lyrics.” He suddenly said, noticing where your attention was. 

“Is this about… us?” You asked with a cracked voice. 

Yoongi heaved a big sigh. “I didn’t know how to let you see me break.” 

“You thought I can’t handle it?” You asked, feeling offended. 

“I couldn’t handle you seeing it.” 

“That’s selfish.”

“I know.” 

A beat passed.

“Did you write that song for me? Or for you?”

“Both.” He simply said. 

Out of the blue, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You got a text from Namjoon’s wife, Jieun, asking if you were free for the day.

Retreating from your seat, you told Yoongi about it and left him be in his studio. After giving her a call you found out that she wanted you to join her picking some baby clothes with her. Said because this time she was having a girl, maybe she needed help from you, with your background in stylist and all. Most importantly, she just wanted to catch up with you. 

“Do you think we got too much pink items for her?” Jieun said as she picked another pink baby dress. 

“There’s no such thing as too much pink.” You said, humoring the lady.

“It’s a bit stereotype-y though…” The mother frowned. 

“We could get some purple stuff too, her daddy is a Bangtan member after all…” You giggled. 

“With that logic, if you and Yoongi ever decide to have one, you should buy purple clothes for them as well.” She laughed. 

Your expression dropped gradually as you heard her words. You laughed away in hope she wouldn’t notice, but it seemed that it was already too late. 

“I’m sorry, was that a sensitive topic?” She asked with a worried look. 

“No, don’t worry.” You smiled, assuring her. 

“Your expression dropped when I mentioned that.” She walked closer to you. “Is everything alright? You could always tell me.”

You shook your head, sighing. “Things aren’t doing well between me and Yoongi…” You said as you took a seat on a random bench at the mall. 

Jieun gasped, immediately taking the seat next to you. “What happened?” 

“He wants to call off our engagement. It was just so… sudden??? He literally just came back from being away for weeks, and he came back just to tell me that?” The tone of your voice hitched. “Even told me that he’s gonna move out from our house… I… I don’t understand…” You looked down, tears started to form in your eyes. 

Jieun rubbed your shoulder, feeling herself getting teary as well. She hugged you. “Have you guys talk through it?”

“We have, and his only reason was because he thinks he’s too busy and it’s just gonna hurt both of us in the long run.” You sighed. “I told him that I’m already used to him being busy. I think I’ve told you before that even though I miss him, it’s always worth it the second I get to see his face again.” You bit your lips, trying to muffle a cry. “All he said was that he got a company now, which I can’t argue. So, I ended up agreeing…”

“Goodness… So that’s it? He’s just gonna leave???”

“I told him I want him to treat me normally and toss our problems aside for a week before leaving me.” You shrugged, mustering a grin even though you had tears rolling down your cheeks. “It’s what I came up impulsively…”

“I can’t believe Yoongi just decided it like that. I thought he was a rational person… You guys have been together for years, for heavens sake!” She said with anger. “When is he leaving?”

“I don’t know exactly, we haven’t really talked about it but our agreement’s supposed to end in three days…” 

“You should definitely try to talk to him about this again. It doesn’t sound like him to just decide things recklessly like that.” 

“I don’t know… he seems pretty content with his choice and I don’t think I can change his mind.” 

“You have to at least try, but if he still won’t budge, screw him. He doesn’t deserve you then.” She then gave you a hug again, caressing your back.

You let a few more tears flee as you hugged her back. 

On your way home you got a call from Yoongi, telling you there was an urgent meeting he had to attend. 

You spent the night alone again. 

DAY 5

By the time you woke up Yoongi was already up eating a toast with a coffee on his hand. You didn’t know when he got back or if he even slept in the night before, but you weren’t opposed to see him nonetheless. 

He fixed you a tea, added the right amount of honey, and asked if you wanted the same toast like he had. 

He seemed… calm. 

“What do you have on your schedule today?” You asked.

He glanced at his phone, then shrugged. “Nothing urgent. I’ve moved some things.”

That surprised you. He never moved things. Not for anyone. Not unless it was extremely crucial. 

You stared. “Why?”

“You asked me for the week.” Yoongi looked up, brow furrowed. “What do you want to do today?”

You swallowed a big lump. “I want to spend today with you.” 

You ended up in the park. It was the one near your old apartment before you moved into the bigger penthouse. Before tour dates. Before investors and board meetings and five day vanishing acts. Just the park with the willow tree you liked to sit under. The one where you had your first big fight but shared a kiss right after.

You brought boba tea. He brought a notebook. You sat beneath the willow and slurped the drink in silence, watching as Yoongi occasionally scribbled something down in that same black notebook from the studio.

“I thought you said you’ve moved things, but you’re writing lyrics?” You asked as you leaned closer to sneak a peek. 

“It’s nothing, I’m just scared that I’ll forget this…” He said, turning another page. “And I don’t want to.”

The wind rustled the tree above you, and you watched the way sunlight flickered between the leaves, golden and soft. Your heartbeat raced. 

“Well, I wouldn’t.” You said with a smile. The wind blew to your hair and you closed your eyes, feeling the breeze. 

“How do you know?”

“I don’t forget things that mattered.” 

And once again, Yoongi quietly nodded without a word. But he did put down the pen and stopped writing. 

You followed your heart and rested your head against his side, hugging his arm as you did. He still turned tense every single time you did something touchy in public. You knew it came with the job. He probably had it embedded in his mind that he had to do the least physical contact with the opposite gender, knowing eyes and cameras were everywhere. Even after you went public, it took him months to get comfortable going out without the coverups. 

You figured the habit would had stopped by now, but apparently not. 

“I’m sorry.” He suddenly voiced out. 

“If you’re sorry then don’t give up on us.” 

“I don’t want to continue hurting you.” 

“Yet you’re doing it right now.” 

He didn’t answer.

But you didn’t move away when his fingers slipped in between yours.

That night, you lay in bed beside him. You didn’t talk. You just curled toward each other, the space between you finally gone. And when Yoongi reached for you in the dark, tentative, slow, afraid. You let him. You let him hold you the way he used to.

Because tonight, for the first time in a long time, you felt like he truly meant it. 

DAY 6

You woke up to the sound of rain.

It wasn’t the light, soothing kind. It was heavy pounding against the windows, tapping hard against the glass like the sky had something urgent to say. You rolled over instinctively and found Yoongi still asleep beside you, his arm wrapped loosely around your waist. He was still holding you. He looked peaceful. 

For a long time, you didn’t move. You just watched him breathe, watched the way his lashes flickered slightly like he was dreaming. His features, usually so sharp with exhaustion, looked softer in the morning light. Younger. Like the version of him from the early days, before the CEO titles, before the international press, before he started measuring time in missed calls and delays.

He stirred, opened his mouth without opening his eyes. “You’re awake.”

“You’re sleeping in.” You commented. 

“It’s raining.” 

You stayed in bed most of the morning. No alarms. No calls. No meetings. It was the first time in… God, months that there wasn’t something else tearing him away. And maybe it was the weather, or maybe it was the way his hand found yours under the blankets, but something about it felt different. Softer. Realer.

Eventually, you wandered into the kitchen together, sleep heavy and still in your pajamas.

Yoongi made pancakes. He burned the first batch and cursed under his breath, and you laughed so hard you had to sit down. He pretended to pout, but there was color in his cheeks that hadn’t been there in weeks.

Yoongi turned off the stove and came to sit across from you at the small dining table. He carefully placed the two plates on the table, with as he bit his inner cheeks, admiring his artwork. You ate in comfortable silence. 

You were washing the dishes when he suddenly asked from where he was seating. 

“Do you still believe in us?”

You didn’t answer right away. You were done with the dishes but you still had your back facing him, as you busied yourself wiping the plates just to avoid looking at his face. 

Part of you did. Part of you still saw the man who made you laugh with flour on his nose, who kissed your forehead when you couldn’t sleep, who wrote a love song in a spiral notebook just to keep from forgetting.

But there was another part. Smaller, quieter, but louder in recent months, that had grown weak and tired. Tired of holding everything up alone. Tired of waiting for your fiancé to look up and see you again.

So you told him the truth.

“I want to.” You sighed. “But I don’t want to keep holding onto something that you can easily decide to let go.” 

“Don’t say easy.” He quickly defended. “It was never an easy decision.” 

You finally turned and met his eyes. They looked slightly red and both of his hands were balled into fists. 

“I was tired.” He said softly. “I can bear the work but I can’t stand listening to you on the phone being all happy but then catching you cry yourself to sleep.” He looked down, feeling ashamed. “And I know you keep saying that you don’t mind, but I do… I mind it. I don’t want you suffering like that.”

“Honest to God, I don’t care how many times I have to cry.” You snapped. “I cry because I’m a human being with emotions. But it pays off. It always pays off seeing you come home to me. Because I love you, damnit. I fucking love you and I hate you for giving up.” Your voice shook, a single tear fell down from your right eye. 

Yoongi’s face crumpled like he had been slapped.

“I can’t give you a normal life…” His voice sounded so helpless and it broke you. “And I can’t just leave the responsibilities of the dream I’ve built in years.”

“I understand.”

Of course you did. You could never make him choose. You wouldn’t even dare. That wasn’t even logical. 

“I have my closure.” You said as you harshly wiped your tears. Forcing a smile, you took a deep breath. “We still have today and I don’t wanna waste it.”

The rain continued into the afternoon, thick and steady. You stayed indoors, the two of you moving through the house like a memory you both wanted to relive. Watching old dramas with your legs tangled on the couch. Sharing a blanket and a single bowl of popcorn. Pausing the show to argue about plot twists like you used to. You played the old board game that had been sitting on the rack for so long that it sprayed comically thick dust when you grabbed it. 

He kept reaching for you. Little things. A hand on your knee. His pinky curled around yours. Resting his chin on your shoulder when you went to get more snacks. 

And you let him. Because unlike what you said to him, you too were afraid of forgetting this. 

You ordered pizza and had Korean bbq for dinner. It seemed improper, impersonal. But both of you loved just sitting down and indulge in random what ifs, while sticking some beef and alcohol down your throats. 

You missed seeing his gummy smile. You missed him being a smartass and hearing his random philosophical thought about the whole society. You missed… him. 

If you knew it was going to be like this, maybe you shouldn’t had asked for the week. It would had been gentler for your heart. 

And when he climbed in beside you that night, he finally reached in and kissed you. You kissed him back. His fingers moved slowly across your body, like he was afraid you’d break just by a mere touch. His lips moved from your mouth, your cheek, down to your neck. By the time he reached your chest, your tears had fallen freely. 

It didn’t take him long to substitute the small hiccups to loud moanings of his name. 

DAY 7

The sound of items being stuffed and moved woke you up. Zipper dragged loudly, your mind immediately picked up on the situation. 

He was packing. 

It was the final day. Of course you didn’t expect him to stay much longer but it still felt so surreal seeing him packing his clothes and knowing the real intention behind it. 

You got up with your body still bare nude, you pulled the bedcover slightly over your chest. Your eyes met for a second, but he still kept going. You wanted to ask. Hell, you wanted to scream, cry, beg him to stay, but nothing came out from your mouth. 

“I ordered lunch.” He said, still busy with the packing. 

You didn’t realize that it was already noon. You quietly nodded and went to quickly shower yourself. You convinced yourself that you had accepted it all during the shower thinking session. 

You were about to get up and wash the dishes when he suddenly asked you. 

“Dance with me?”

You looked at him like he had gone insane. “There’s no beat.”

“I don’t care.” 

So you stood and you danced. No rhythm. No real steps. Just swaying and vulnerable, his forehead pressed to yours. And even now, no tears. Maybe it had all been dried up at this point. Maybe you really had finally came to terms with everything. 

“Do you remember when we danced like this in my old apartment?”

“In your old kitchen. I tripped on the rug and took you down with me.”

He chuckled lightly. “You kissed me afterwards.” 

“You looked beautiful in that moment. Like someone real.” You confessed. 

“I think I forgot how to be real for a while.”

You looked up and were surprised to meet his glassy eyes. 

And here when you thought you had accepted everything, he cupped your cheeks and your walls broke down again. 

“Give me a chance.”

“Wha— Yoongi, I thought you were leaving today.”

You panicked, cupping back his face so now both of you just grabbing each other faces like a couple of idiots. 

“Give me a chance,” He repeated. “But not out of obligation. Not because of what we had. Because I know we still can be.” 

Your heart thumped painfully. 

“I’ll find someone to train and take over my day to day. It’ll be a long process but if you’re willing to wait, I will have time for you…” A single tear quickly fell down and a desperate smile appeared on his lips. “I can’t promise you anything really, I hate myself for that. And I hate myself even more because I know you deserve better. Even though I know you deserve someone who would never make you feel neglected… I still can't think I can live without you.”

His voice finally broke as he sobbed. It was the very first time in years and years of knowing him. Sure you had seen him cry once or twice, whether from a good movie, to actual sadness. But never like this. 

Funnily enough, still, both of you were holding each other faces. You started breaking into tears too, finally after being in state of shock. 

“You don’t get to say all these things now and expect me to forget what it felt like when you asked to give up on us last week as if I meant nothing to you.” 

“I don’t expect that,” He said. “I just want a chance to earn your trust again, and a chance to be strong for myself.” 

“If I say yes,” You shuddered. “I don’t want it to be a restart. I want a repair. You have to rebuild from the cracks, not erase them.”

“I know.” He nodded, sniffing. 

“I need time.”

“You have the rest of my life.”

Your breath hitched. “I need you to stop thinking I’m weak because I can take it.” Finally, a smile appeared on your lips despite the tears raining down. “Because I can’t imagine living without you too.”

Yoongi exhaled, shoulders sagging with relief. But he didn’t reach for you right away. His hands were shaking, you felt it against your skin. He finally dropped his hands from your face. He waited.

You didn’t though. Instead leaned forward and pulled him in. You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his neck. He held you back like someone who knew exactly what he had almost lost. He then kissed you like you were oxygen he desperately needed to survive. 

There was so much to learn, so much to fix. But you were sure you could face anything as long as you got him by your side.

Thank you for reading! 💍

[beargyu313]

Blurred lines 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

۶ৎ Summary: You’ve always gotten along really really with Jake during uni, so it only made sense to share a flat with him post-grad. Now you’re roommates who have a playfully physical friendship but it’s starting to mean something.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚Word Count: 10.9k, lowkey not my best work but, oh well

۶ৎ Tags: angst, smut, lawyer apprentice Jake, slice of life, shared domesticity,, smut tags: munch!Jake, jealousy, angry sex, heavy petting, pussy slapping, edging + denial,, soft dominance, possessiveness, use of blindfold, sex on the balcony

౨ৎ Content Warning: mdni, smut Extra: masterlist, taglist: @mrsjjongstby

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

You and Jake weren’t best friends exactly, you were more like orbiters who kept getting pulled into each other’s gravity. Same friend groups. Late-night library hangs. Group project partners who accidentally became each other’s go-to plus-one. You’d pass each other snacks during lectures and you might’ve "jokingly" sat on his lap a few times.

By the end of final year, it was just… normal to be around each other.

Fast forward to post-grad life looming. Your friend group start spiraling with “where is everyone living next year” stress.

You say “Ugh, I don’t want a random roommate. I just want someone chill.” Jake, half-asleep on the couch, goes “So… live with me then.” You blink. “You’re serious?” He shrugs. Casual, like always, “Yeah. We already practically do.”

And that’s it.

You both tour two flats, pick the one with huge windows, two bedrooms and a couch that sinks too deep, and sign a lease. It’s not even dramatic. It just makes sense.

You fight over rugs. He insists on a “muted navy palette.” You want color. He ends up secretly buying the yellow throw you liked.

On your first night together in the flat, you’re both sitting on the floor eating noodles out of the box.

“You nervous?”

“Only about what your snoring sounds like.”

He throws a pillow at you.

And after weeks of living together, you two fall into a rhythm. Jake leaves early in the morning for his part-time internship at a law firm. He was prepping to become a lawyer, so seeing him in suits, shirts and ties quickly became a regular occurrence. The first time you saw him all professional was when you had to help him with his tie.

It was kind of cute. He quietly shuffled into your room and gently woke you up. You remember how shy he was, a slight blush covering his cheeks. Still remember the way his hand rested on your waist as you worked on knotting his tie properly.

Since you’re a screenwriter, your mornings on the other hand are much slower. You shuffle to the kitchen in socks and a hoodie that might be his. Most days, you talk to yourself more than you talk to anyone else. Except Jake. Always Jake.

He’s usually gone by the time you fully wake up, but his presence lingers. A mug left in the sink. Cologne in the hallway. A post-it on the fridge that says, "Eat something real today. Instant noodles don’t count. – J"

Days you two spend apart, but evenings unanimously become a time just for you two. Sometimes you would go out for a walk, other days a party, but most evening would end with a shared dinner and watching series.

But not tonight. You had been looking forward to tonight for way too long. You had been eyeing one of your coworkers for months and finally he asked you out on a date. Sunghoon was the same age as you and Jake and while you didn’t really know him that well, there was something about him...

Which is why you spend over an hour picking your outfit, and then another hour doing your makeup. You’re just putting on your perfume when you hear a soft knock at the door.

Jake leans in, fresh from a shower — hair damp, grey tee hanging loose, one hand braced against the wood. His eyes catch your reflection in the mirror. He doesn’t smile.

“You going out with that guy tonight?”

Your mascara wand pauses. You glance at him through the mirror. “You mean Sunghoon?”

Jake shrugs. "Whatever his name is."

You turn slightly, narrowing your eyes. “Why?”

“Just asking,” he says casually.

There’s a beat of silence. The room smells like your perfume and the faint mint of his body wash. You go back to your lashes, but he doesn’t move.

Then, he steps closer, so close you can smell his body wash, and reaches past you like he’s fixing something on the counter. Instead, his fingers brush along your temple, then tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingers a second longer than it needs to.

“You look prettier with your hair like this,” he murmurs, voice low.

You freeze. It’s nothing. It’s always nothing.

Except it isn’t.

You stare at him in the mirror. His eyes meet yours, dark and unreadable, a challenge tucked behind his calm demeanor. Your pulse stutters.

Then your phone buzzes on the counter.

You glance at it. A message from Sunghoon. hey… sorry. can’t make it tonight. something came up. rain check?

You deflate before you can stop yourself. Jake notices immediately.

“Let me guess,” he says. “Date’s off?”

You try to sound breezy. “Work emergency or something.”

Jake doesn’t gloat, but there’s something smug in the way he shifts back, arms folding across his chest.

“Guess that means movie night’s back on,” he says, already turning toward the living room. “Your pick. But nothing depressing.”

You don’t answer right away. You just watch him go.

It takes you a moment to move, and then you’re changing into shorts and a loose shirt. It would lowkey be a waste to take your makeup off after you just applied it, so you leave it on. No other reason.

When you reach the living room, Jake’s already half-sprawled on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest like he owns the place (he kind of does). The blinds are drawn, the fan hums softly in the corner, and Netflix’s horror menu flashes onscreen.

He looks up when he sees you, and his gaze lingers for a second longer than usual. On your legs. Your lips. Your eyes — still done up like you’re going somewhere better than this.

“Didn’t change much,” he says, smirking.

You throw a pillow at him. “Shut up.”

He catches it, laughing. “I meant that as a compliment. You look…” He gestures vaguely. “Fancy. For a movie about bloodsucking sadists.”

You shrug, climbing onto the couch and tucking your feet under you. “Might as well let the vampires appreciate the effort.”

Jake’s eyes flick to your lips again, just for a beat. Then he’s clearing his throat, shifting to grab the remote. “Alright. No crying if it’s gory.”

You nudge his leg with your toe. “Please. I’ll protect you.”

Jake grins, all smug. “Oh yeah? Gonna fight off the undead for me?”

You nod solemnly. “With style.”

“Great,” he says, tossing the blanket over both of you. “Then I’m officially off-duty.”

You shift to get comfortable, letting your legs stretch across the couch. The blanket settles over you both. His thigh brushes yours. Your foot nudges his again, not quite by accident. He doesn’t move.

The movie starts — all flickering shadows and eerie violins — but your focus wavers. Jake smells like laundry detergent and that citrusy cologne he always wears. You feel the rise and fall of his chest beside you, calm and steady.

A few minutes in, another jump scare hits. You jolt. He snorts.

“Still feeling brave?” he teases.

You scowl at him, then shift closer, just to prove a point. Your knee nudges his hip. Your arm slides across his stomach.

“Shut up,” you mumble. Jake doesn’t say anything, but he lifts his arm and lets you curl against him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Before long, you’re draped half across his chest, cheek against the soft cotton of his T-shirt. The room is dark except for the flicker of the screen. His fingers find your hair, brushing through it slowly, over and over.

It feels good. Too good. You let yourself sink into it for a few long breaths. Then you start to shift back. But Jake doesn’t let you. His hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers resting gently. “You always run when I touch you,” he murmurs.

You give a half-laugh, half-sigh. “Do not.”

But your voice is too soft to sound convincing. The movie drones on in the background  but your mind's gone quiet. Jake’s still stroking your hair. Your eyes flicker to the muted blue light of your phone on the coffee table.

Sunghoon’s text still sits there. You don’t say anything, but your body gives you away, in the way your shoulders curve in, the weight of your breath.

Jake notices.

“Hey,” he says softly, thumb grazing your jaw. “You okay?”

You nod. Pause. Then shake your head.

“I feel stupid,” you admit.

Jake shifts to face you more fully. “Why?”

“I don’t know. It’s not like I even liked him that much.” You press your cheek against his chest, voice muffled. “I just wanted someone to like me that much.”

There’s a long pause. Jake doesn’t say anything right away, he just holds you tighter, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“You know,” he says eventually, a teasing lilt creeping back into his tone, “I bet I’m a better kisser than that guy anyway.”

You let out a tired laugh, pulling back to look at him. “Oh yeah? So confident.”

Jake shrugs, mouth twitching. “I have a good resume.”

“Oh, do you?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “Prove it.”

You don’t even know what makes you say it.

Maybe it’s the leftover sadness. Maybe it’s the way his thumb is brushing your cheek. Or the way he’s looking at you. Like you’re not just his roommate. Like you’re his everything.

But suddenly you’re leaning in, still half-laughing.

The kiss starts soft. Just lips. Barely moving. Just a pause. Just a breath. Then Jake tilts his head. His hand slides up to cup your jaw. His thumb grazes the corner of your mouth and—

He kisses you like he means it.

No teasing. No jokes.

You whimper. A quiet, involuntary sound you don’t even recognize as your own. And he pulls you closer in response.

You don’t even realize spreading your legs, straddling him from where he still lays down on the couch. Jake’s hands rest on your hip and when his tongue traces your lower lip. When you open your mouth in submission his grip on your hips tightens.  You shudder, and then Jake starts guiding your hips. Back and forth, slowly. You let him.

But then, just as suddenly, you both pull back.

You’re both breathing hard. Your thighs are still locked around his hips. His hands still resting on your waist. The air between you feels charged but no one’s saying it.

So you clear your throat and go, voice light, “Okay. Yeah. You’ve… definitely got a good resume.”

Jake huffs a laugh, chest rising under your palms. “Told you.”

“But,” you add, trying to keep your voice teasing, even though your pulse is still sprinting, “I’d need references before hiring full-time.”

He raises an eyebrow. “References? Babe, I am the reference.”

You laugh, it’s shaky, breathless and slowly climb off his lap, adjusting the hem of your shirt like that’ll somehow undo the grinding you just did.

Jake shifts too, leaning back on the couch like nothing happened. Except for the pillow hat he places in his lap. And the way his gaze drops to your lips again, just for a second.

“So,” you say, grabbing the remote from the coffee table. “Still wanna finish the movie, or was that your idea of a plot twist?”

Jake grins, low and slow. “Let’s see how it ends.”

You press play. But your body’s still humming. He throws his arm across the back of the couch, unbothered.

Neither of you says anything else.

But something’s changed.

And you both know it.

The next morning is weird. It’s one of those days where you can’t work from home so you wake up at the same time as Jake does. And when you step out of your room, wearing only an oversized shirt – that’s probably Jake’s – you pause.

Jake is at the kitchen table, coffee half-drunk and Kindle in hand. His hair is still damp from his shower. He’s wearing that crisp white shirt that always fits a little too well, sleeves already rolled to the elbows.

His eyes lift when he hears your bedroom door creak open, and then they drop, slowly tracing the length of your legs like they have every right to.

“Morning,” you mumble, throat suddenly dry. You don’t wait for him to answer before disappearing into the bathroom.

When you return, you’ve changed into something semi-professional and pulled your hair back. Jake’s putting on his watch by the door. His cologne hits you before his voice does.

“You good?” he asks casually, like you didn’t ride him on the couch fourteen hours ago.

“Peachy,” you say, grabbing your tote bag. Your voice is light. Neutral. A little too neutral.

The car ride is… quieter than usual. There’s no playlist. Just the sound of traffic and turn signals. Until Jake breaks the silence.

“So, Sunoo texted. He wants to do something this weekend,” Jake says, eyes still on the road.

“Oh?” you ask, eyes flicking toward him.

“Haunted house. The one near the old train station.” He glances at you. “You in?”

You shrug, forcing a smile. “Yeah, sure. Who else is coming?”

“Me, Sunoo, Jay, Heeseung. I think Yujin and Liz are joining, too.”

“Great,” you say. “Perfect for Yujin to scream into Jay’s arms.”

Jake chuckles at that. “Better than Sunoo clinging to my hoodie again.”

“You’re the designated safety blanket. You knew what you signed up for.”

Jake glances at you again. His voice drops just a touch, teasing. “You gonna cling to me too this time?”

You don’t answer right away. You let the question hang there, feel the weight of it settle between the bucket seats.

Then you say, “Only if the ghosts get handsy.”

Jake snorts, but you catch the faint smile tugging at his mouth. He taps the steering wheel lightly with his thumb.

“That’s my favorite shirt, by the way,” he says.

You blink. “What?”

“This morning. You wore it last week too.” He pauses. “Looks better on you.”

You stare out the window, ears burning, pretending you don’t hear him. But your heart is a little too loud.

And suddenly, the idea of getting scared on purpose this weekend… doesn’t seem so bad.

Except when the weekend rolls around and the seven of you near the abandoned train station you don’t think you will have to pretend to be scared.

The air is colder here, even though it’s the middle of summer. Not even a breeze breaks through the stillness. Like the atmosphere has forgotten how to move. Everything is quiet in that unnatural, pressurized way that makes your ears buzz. Even the sky feels different. Dusky, despite the fact that it’s barely past sunset.

The old train depot looms ahead. All rusted beams and broken windows, the paint long since peeled away to reveal something grey and rotting underneath. Ivy curls up the corners like fingers trying to hold it shut or maybe hold something in.

Jake whistles low under his breath beside you. “Charming.”

“Nope,” Sunoo says immediately. “Absolutely not. This place is cursed. There’s, like… ghost laws being broken right now.”

Liz snorts. “What the hell are ‘ghost laws’?”

Sunoo ignores her. “Why is it so quiet? Why is the sky pink? Why does it smell like iron and regret—?”

“Stop reading Wattpad,” Jay mutters, though his own grip on the back of Yujin’s shirt is noticeably tight.

“I’m just saying,” Sunoo huffs, edging closer to Liz, “if we go missing, check the attic first. It’s always the attic.”

Heeseung says nothing, but he’s clearly uncomfortable, his hands are in his pockets, shoulders hunched. He gives the place one slow look and mutters, “Why do I feel like something’s watching us?”

Jake laughs under his breath. “Because something is watching us. The actors are probably already inside.”

You glance at him. He looks calm. Relaxed, even. But when you brush his hand with yours, he squeezes it lightly. Just once.

You don’t let go.

By the time you reach inside, you’re glued to his side. He lets you, fingers interlocked together and your other arm gripping his bicep. You think he flexes his muscle when you touch him, but don’t comment on it.

 The haunted house (train?) is all black walls and red lighting, with old train sounds whistling through hidden speakers. The air smells like dry metal and artificial fog. Each hallway is tighter than the last, cramped and dark and full of sharp turns.

It doesn’t take long before you’re pressed against Jake, your face buried in his chest after a vampire-jumpscare pops out of a hidden wall.

“Jesus,” you whisper, trying to breathe.

He chuckles and holds you tighter. “They got you good, huh?”

“You flinched too!”

“Only because you screamed in my ear.”

Up ahead, Liz and Sunoo are doing a running commentary about which horror tropes they’re about to fulfill.

“Oh my god, we split up!” Liz shrieks. “This is how I die! I’m the comic relief!”

“I’m the comic relief!” Sunoo counters. “You’re the hot one who survives ‘cause of fan demand!”

Meanwhile, Jay is trying to walk calmly while Yujin clings to his arm with a suspiciously delighted smile. Heeseung’s behind them, dead silent, bambi eyes scanning every corner like he’s prepping for actual war.

But you and Jake… are in your own little bubble. Somewhere between adrenaline and instinct, you’re not thinking anymore. You’re just holding onto him. Sometimes his arm is around your shoulders. Sometimes your hand is in his hoodie pocket. You’re never apart.

At one point, someone turns around and says, “Wait… are you guys, like, together?”

You don’t have time to respond. A vampire lunges from the shadows just then, and you shriek again, arms looping around Jake’s waist.

Behind you, Sunoo gasps, “It’s giving main couple energy!”

You feel Jake’s chest rumble against yours with laughter. You don’t look up.

But later, when the group finally exits through the heavy fire door and spills into fresh night air — breathless, laughing, buzzing — you catch Jake looking at you.

He doesn’t say anything. Just raises an eyebrow like he’s in on a joke you haven’t caught yet. You should roll your eyes. You should brush it off. Instead, you stare back. For just a beat too long. Your pulse is still racing and you know it’s not just because of the fake blood or flashing lights.

The group piles into a tucked-away corner booth at a 24-hour Korean BBQ joint, still riding the adrenaline of half-screams and nervous laughter.

Sunoo is loudly recounting how a jump-scare made him nearly cry. Liz keeps teasing Heeseung for “flinching like a grandma.” Yujin’s arm is looped through Jay’s, who’s clearly enjoying the attention.

You squeeze into the bench between Jake and Heeseung, feeling the warmth of Jake’s thigh pressed casually against yours like it belongs there.

You’re halfway through wrapping some pork belly in lettuce when Heeseung nudges you lightly with his shoulder. “You held it together better than I thought,” he says, mouth tugging into a crooked grin.

You look up, surprised. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “You just… seemed like the type to scream.”

“You’re the one who kept swallowing his own scream,” Liz chimes in with a laugh. “Like, Heeseung, be honest. You were dying in there.”

The table erupts in laughter. Heeseung doesn’t even deny it, just grins, eyes sliding back to you. “Still. You were pretty cool.”

Jake goes quiet beside you. You don’t notice. But his hand rests heavier on the bench now, a fraction behind your back.

The table shifts into smaller conversations. You sip your drink, unaware of Jake’s eyes watching the way Heeseung leans in when you laugh. Or how Heeseung always seems to address you when telling a story.

Jake says nothing. But the ice cubes in his water clink sharp under his grip.

You both get home after dinner. You're still laughing a little, still a bit tipsy from the soju and beer. Jake tosses his hoodie on the back of the couch, stretches. “You good?” he asks, glancing at you.

You nod, toeing off your shoes. “You were kind of a human shield back there.”

Jake smirks. “What can I say. Built different.”

You swat at him as you pass, and when you pause in the hallway, he follows. In the kitchen, you're pouring water, and he steps behind you. He’s too close, not quite touching you but you can feel his breath flutter over your neck. Goosebumps appear on your skin.

You turn around to say something and — bump into him. You both freeze.

It’s nothing. It’s everything.

You laugh. He smiles. Then he tugs you into a hug, arms wrapping low around your waist. You don’t even question it anymore. Your arms slide around his shoulders. His face buries into your neck. You hold there. A few beats too long.

Then his hands start to move. Thumbs brushing over the hem of your shirt. Fingertips ghosting up your spine. You should say something, but instead you start leaning. Hips shifting closer. Your fingers tangling in the hair at the back of his neck.

You whisper, “You’re touchy tonight.”

Jake laughs, but it’s quieter now. “You didn’t mind seem to mind it in the train.”

“No,” you admit. “I didn’t, still don’t.”

When you pull back, it’s just enough to see his face. His eyes flick to your mouth. Then away. Then back again. He doesn’t let go of your waist. If anything his grip feels firmer, grounding you in this kitchen into his arms. Like you belong in them.

You tilt your head. “What?”

Jake hesitates. Then shrugs, too casual. “Nothing.”

You narrow your eyes. “No, what is it?”

He exhales slowly through his nose. “Just… you and Heeseung were talking a lot tonight.”

You blink. “So?”

He shrugs again, but it’s tighter this time. Like he regrets saying anything. “Didn’t realize you were into that.”

You stare at him, utterly confused. “Into what?”

Jake’s gaze finally meets yours head-on. “Guys who flirt like they’re trying not to get caught.”

Your lips part, startled. “What? He wasn’t— Jake. Are you jealous?”

“No,” he says immediately. Too fast. Then, quietly “Maybe.”

It’s quiet. So quiet you can hear the tick of the fridge behind you. Your fingers flex where they still rest on the back of his neck. You step in all the way now chest to chest.

And you say, softly “There’s nothing going on with me and Heeseung, we’re just friends.”

Jake’s jaw clenches. “Good.”

His hands slide up your sides. “Are we also just friends?”

You tilt your head. “I’m not sure what you mean, but you’re acting like you want to prove something.”

“I do,” he says. Then leans in. His lips find yours and it’s like a fuse short-circuits. The kiss starts hard. His hands gripping your waist, your thighs pressing closer, the edge of the counter digging into your back. Jake doesn’t ease into it this time. He kisses like he means it, like he's been waiting all night.

You gasp into his mouth. His tongue sweeps past your lips, and you moan before you can stop it.

His hands drop to your thighs, squeezing, and then he’s lifting you effortlessly onto the counter. You spread your legs and he steps between them without breaking the kiss.

One of his hands slides up your bare thigh under your shirt. His touch slow, teasing, stopping just below where you want him. The other cups your jaw, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

You tug at the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer, chasing his mouth. Jake growls softly into the kiss low and pleased and murmurs against your lips “Still just friends?”

You shake your head, breathless. “Stop talking.”

But the specialness of the moment was ruined. As soon the words leave your lips Jake pulls back. He looks like a kicked puppy. A hot kicked puppy, with swollen lips and hair a mess. And it’d be hot if it weren’t for the look in his eyes.

Hurt.

Jake steps back completely. His hands fall from your waist like you burned him. “Right,” he mutters, voice hoarse. “Just… talking too much again.”

You blink. “Jake—”

But he’s already turning away, moving down the hallway. Your chest tightens, but you don’t follow. What would you even say? That it didn’t mean anything? That it did? Instead, you stare at the counter where he just stood. Your thighs are still spread. The air still tastes like his kiss.

The silence stretches between your two rooms that night like a canyon.

And it continues into the next day. You hear the door shut closed after he leaves for work. He’d usually come and say bye, sometimes even kissing the top of your head.

You’re not sure what you’re feeling when he just leaves. A strange hollowness seems to follow you throughout the day. Like a dark shadow you can’t quite shake.

You sit on the pleather couch, just staring at your screen as if the script would write itself. But no matter how much you push, no words get typed out. Or even worse, they do, but suck.

Whenever you try to concentrate your thoughts betray you. The kiss replaying like a music video over and over again. You force yourself reread your script for the fifth time.

It sucks. You have a writers block.

You want to scream, deadline fast approaching but you just can’t write today. You slam the laptop closed just as the front door opens.

Jake comes home after work, loosening his tie. Looks at you — slumped on the couch, laptop closed, a half-eaten granola bar on the table.

“You’re still in the same spot as this morning.” He notes, but you don’t register the concern in his voice.

“Congrats. You can see.” You flatly deadpan at end with your nerves. It was everything, the kiss, your confusing feelings, the writer’s block. Nothing seems to be going your way today.

He sets his bag down carefully, steps over to the couch, and lowers himself beside you. His knee touches yours.

“Is this… because of what happened yesterday?” he asks, voice softer now. Cautious. Like he’s not sure if he’s stepping on a landmine or something delicate.

You blink at him. Then scoff quietly. “No.”

His eyes flicker.

“I mean—” You sigh, finally looking at him. “Maybe. I don’t know. Everything’s just… loud right now. In my head.”

He stays quiet. He hates not being sure of you. Hates the idea that maybe you regret it. Jake’s fingers twitch, but he doesn’t reach for you yet. “Did I do something wrong?”

The question makes you soften. Just a little.

“No,” you say. “It’s not you. It’s this.” You gesture at the couch. The mess. The day. Your laptop. “I have a deadline tomorrow and I’ve written nothing. I’ve been sitting here for hours and everything I type feels like garbage.”

Jake breathes out. A small sound. His shoulders relax.

“Oh,” he says, almost relieved. Then he glances at you again — closer this time — eyes flickering to your mouth. “So it’s work.”

“Yeah,” you mumble. “Just work.”

A beat passes.

“You should’ve texted me,” he says, voice casual. “I could’ve picked up something sweet on the way home.”

“I didn’t know you were taking care of me now,” you say, teasing, tired.

Jake’s expression softens in that unreadable, dangerous way he has. “Someone has to.”

Then he moves closer.

You don’t stop him. His arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. Your cheek finds the soft place between his jaw and collarbone. He smells like cologne and fabric softener and something warmer underneath, something like home.

“You’re so tense,” he murmurs, thumb brushing lightly over your arm.

You sigh again, melting without meaning to. The hug isn’t just comforting it’s grounding. Familiar. He rubs your back, and something in your chest eases. You sit like that for a while, your limbs tangled loosely.

Then Jake leans back just a little, just enough to see your face. His hand slides down your arm, brushes over your bare knee, thumb pressing into your thigh.

You glance at him, blinking.

He tilts his head. “Want me to distract you?”

You go still. “What?”

Jake’s hand doesn’t move, but his eyes are darker now. Slower. Studying you. Like he’s weighing your silence, like he’s making sure you understand him.

You do. All too well. And the worst part is you want to be distracted. You want to forget everything.

You swallow. “Jake…”

But you don’t say no.

Not when his hand slides higher. Not when he shifts to face you fully, his knee pressing between yours, lips brushing your cheek. Not when he whispers, “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

And when you breathe out, shaky and slow, that’s the only yes he needs. You allow him to guide you, lay flatly on the couch. And watch him.

You pupils are blown. His hands are slow at first, deliberate, almost reverent as they slide beneath the hem of your shorts. Jake swallows hard when you lift your hips for him, helping him pull them down your legs. His fingers tremble slightly as he sets them aside.

Your eyes are wide. Blown.

He hovers above you for a moment, one hand pressed against the couch cushion by your head. His eyes meet yours — and it’s not teasing, not smug. Just watchful. There’s a storm brewing beneath his gaze. A question, unspoken.

Still okay?

You nod, and your breath stutters. "Jake."

He leans in, brushes a kiss against your inner thigh, then another, higher. You flinch slightly at how tender it is. How intimate.

“Relax,” he murmurs again, voice low. His hands slide beneath your thighs and he shifts you forward. Closer to him. “Let me take care of you.”

You’re not sure if he’s talking about your stress, your block, your loneliness or himself. But when his mouth meets your lower lips he’s slow and devastating and you forget the question altogether.

He’s not rushed. Not greedy. He moves like someone making up for something, like this is a confession more than an act. A worship. Each flick of his tongue purposeful, his grip tightening when your thighs threaten to close around his head. He wants to be here. He needs to be here.

You gasp when Jake licks a long stripe from your hole up to your clit. He reaches for your thighs, setting them on his shoulders and then he digs in again.

He’s rougher this time, suckling on your clit. He moans, sucking with more passion when you grab his hair.

He let’s you rock his face on your pussy, squeezing your thighs.

And you… fall apart too easily. The slow build of pressure has been sitting inside your body all day, maybe longer. Weeks. The almost-kisses, the confusing touches, the way he looks at you like he wants to ruin you gently.

It all crests as his fingers dig into your hips and he murmurs against you, low and coaxing, “That’s it. Just like that.”

It’s almost too much. Not from stimulation but from the intimacy. From how seen you feel. You hear how wet you are, can feel Jake’s jaw work. And then – he adds fingers.

He slips his middle finger into you and your mind literally melts. Pleasure is all you can focus on right now, not caring about how loud you’re being or the way your hips keep humping his fingers deeper into you.

You tangle your fingers into his hair, back arching. “Jake—fuck—why are you—”

“Shh.” He hums into you, sending another wave through your body. “You needed this. That’s all.”

And when you finally come apart — shoulders tense, mouth parted, breath catching in your throat — Jake doesn’t stop. Lapping your juices up as if he’s a starving man. But it’s too much. You’re twitching, trying to pull back – but Jake has you locked in place.

He doesn’t let you go until you’re a whimpering and squirming mess, too sensitive, gasping his name like it’s a question.

He looks up at you from between your thighs, lips slick, eyes dark and unreadable.

You blink. “What the hell was that?”

Jake just wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and shifts forward so he’s hovering over you again, his eyes flicking from your lips to your eyes and back.

“You needed it,” he repeats, soft and serious. “That’s all.”

But you both know that’s not all. It’s not sex. But it’s not not, either. And neither of you have a single word for what this is now.

Instead of answering him, instead of letting yourself ruminate over what just happened, you pull him down into a kiss.

Jake seems surprised, gasping when your lips meet. But you don’t mind taking lead. You cup his face, legs wrapping around his waist as you kiss him as if your life depended on it.

He kisses you back, matching your urgency, your need. You can taste yourself on his tongue, the saltiness of it making you moan as you grind down against his thigh, chasing more.

He groans into your mouth, hands gripping your waist tighter.

“You’re—” a breathless peck to his lips, “such—” another kiss, “a good friend.”

The words slip out, stupid and soft, the kind of thing you didn’t really mean — or maybe meant differently in your head.

Jake freezes.

His mouth is still on yours, but he doesn’t kiss back this time. His brow creases, and after a beat, he pulls away. Resting his forehead against yours, his eyes flutter shut like he’s trying to hold something in. His body is still hard against you, unmistakably turned on — but that fire dims as he slowly leans back.

“I need to shower,” he says quietly, voice low and clipped. “Watch a movie when I come back?”

You nod, feeling his absence instantly as he pulls away. Your chest aches not just from arousal but something else now. Regret? Confusion? You’re not sure. You didn’t mean it like that. Not like just a friend.

But the damage is done.

When he returns, fresh from the shower, his hair damp and curling at the ends, he wraps you in a blanket before joining you on the couch.

You expect warmth. Closeness.

Instead, the blanket settles like a barrier that’s soft, but solid. His arm curls around you from behind, sure, but there’s distance in the way he holds you now. A subtle restraint, like he’s afraid of touching too much.

Your chest twists.

You almost say something about earlier, about the kiss, about what you meant, but the words sit thick in your throat.

Because the truth is, you didn’t mean to call him a friend like that. Not in that moment. Not when you were half out of breath, high off his touch. But it was easier to label it safe than admit how much you were spiraling inside. How close you felt. How badly you wanted him to stay.

You fidget under the blanket. Jake doesn’t speak.

Your hand twitches like it wants to reach for his. It doesn’t.

And maybe this is what hurts more than anything — not the silence, not even the awkwardness. But the knowing. That one wrong word was enough to push you back behind this invisible line neither of you knows how to cross again.

So you let him hold you. Quiet. Still.

Not because you're fine with it, but because you're scared if you speak, the rest will tumble out. Everything you don’t know how to ask for. Everything you're afraid he doesn't want.

And maybe… just maybe, if you wait, this will pass. If you keep the quiet gentle, maybe you can find a way to fix it later. To talk when the air doesn’t feel so fragile. When it won’t sound like a confession.

So you press your face into the pillow, trying not to breathe too loud. Trying not to need too much.

Behind you, Jake shifts a little closer, just barely. His arm tightens for a second, like he almost forgets the wall between you.

But then it loosens again.

And neither of you says a word.

The next morning, Jake comes into your room just before leaving for work. He leans down. Presses a soft kiss to your cheek. Like it's nothing. Then he straightens, gives you a small smile that’s polite and distant and he disappears.

You lie there, frozen.

At first, you try to brush it off. Tell yourself this is what you wanted, right? Just friends. No pressure. No awkwardness. But that kiss stings in a way you weren’t prepared for. So you do the only thing that makes sense in the moment.

You start ignoring him back.

When he texts, you leave him on read. When he walks into the room, you don’t look up. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. But beneath the chill, the silence, the shoulder-turning — your heart aches. You’re not mad. Not really. You just don’t know how to say I didn’t mean it like that.

You miss him. And worse — you want him. Not just the way he touched you, but the way he looked at you. Like you weren’t just some girl, but someone he couldn’t stop wanting.

You crave that again.

So by the time Thursday rolls around, your pride is fraying, your patience thinning. You need a reaction. Any reaction.

Which is why you’re sitting on the couch in shorts that toe the line between indecent and illegal, a tank top clinging to you like it’s been shrunk in the wash — waiting.

Not because you think this’ll fix it. Not because you're confident. But because it's the only language you know how to speak right now.

The door clicks open.

Jake walks in.

You don’t turn your head. Not right away. You hear the jingle of keys. The sound of shoes being kicked off. A pause.

Then, finally, his voice — calm, clipped, guarded.

“Didn’t realize this was a lingerie party.”

You glance up slowly, eyes wide with innocence. “Oh?” you murmur. “This? Just comfy.”

And even though you smile, your heart's pounding in your chest. Because you're not teasing — you're reaching.

Jake drops his bag by the door, loosens his tie, and walks past you — like it’s nothing. But his eyes… his eyes say something else entirely.Lingering. Burning.

You push further.

“I was feeling a little hot,” you say casually, stretching your arms overhead. The hem of your tank rises with you.

He opens the fridge. Grabs water. Doesn’t look at you.

“You don’t say.”

You blink. So he’s going to act like he doesn’t care?

You rise. Pad toward the kitchen on bare feet. “You’ve been quiet,” you say, voice light. “Everything okay?”

Jake shrugs, drinks. “Busy week.”

He won’t meet your eyes.

You step closer. “Or is it the fact that you had your mouth on me, and now you’re acting like we’re just roommates again?”

That gets his attention.

Jake finally turns — cool gaze sweeping over you, lingering a second too long on the slope of your chest, the bare skin of your thighs. Then his mouth quirks. Not a smile — more like a warning.

“We are just roommates,” he says. “Friends. You said so yourself.”

You blink. “Right,” you say tightly. “So friends can do that? Friends can—”

You don’t finish. You’re flustered now, and Jake sees it. Smirks.

You move closer, fast, needing the upper hand. Bold. You press a hand to his chest, slide your fingers down to his waistband. Your other hand rests on his shoulder. You glance up at him, lashes low.

“You’re hard.”

Jake doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move. “So are we taking turns stating the obvious now?”

Your breath catches.

His voice is calm. Controlled. Cold.

“You’re the one who wanted no label,” he continues, tone light but jaw tight. “So this? It doesn’t count. Just a reaction, right?”

You falter.

He leans down, mouth brushing your ear.

“But you’re not really looking for just reactions, are you?”

And then he walks past you. And now you’re confused.

You tried not letting it get to you, but insecurity starts to seep in. Was something wrong with you? You’re chilling in your room when your phone pings. It’s the groupchat.

🌞noo:

PARTY THIS FRIDAYYYY BY THE RIVER. pls someone else bring the aux tho. jake’s taste in music makes me want to bite drywall

Jake:

you’ve literally danced to my shit before????

🌞noo:

yeah because i’m hot and adaptable not bcs it was good

💋 Liz:

sunoo let jake have one win this week 😭

Jay:

where is this exactly?

Yujin:

next to the trail behind the docks. we used to go there for bonfires remember?

You respond, half-joking:

cute. will there be skinny-dipping or should i bring a towel

🦌 Hee:

you can borrow mine 👀

You do a double look as you read his reply. Your stomach swoops but before you can reply Jake’s responding.

Jake:

relax.

🦌 Hee:

lmao. you relax. what, scared she’ll get cold?

🦊 you:

i love it when the groupchat turns into a pissing contest <3

Jay:

anyway i’m bringing tequila. yujin said she’s making jello shots.

Yujin:

no i didn’t

 Jay:

you will tho 😇

💋 Liz:

can we all agree on one thing?

🌞noo:

no drama

💋 Liz:

no hookups between friends

🦊 you:

girl be serious

Is what you type, but your mind is already wandering traitorously to a boy with black fluffy hair and a puppy persona.

It’s Friday. Jay picked you and Jake up and now here you were. Golden hour is kissing the riverbank. Music drifts lazily through bluetooth speakers. There's a cooler full of drinks half-submerged in the water. People are arriving in waves — towels, sandals, skin on display.

You're in a two-piece with a light cover-up that’s definitely more "slip" than "dress." You clock Jake the second he gets in Jay’s car. Black swim trunks. Messy hair. Oversized tee hanging off his shoulder. He meets your gaze once and looks away.

Heeseung’s the one who whistles when he sees you.

“You always gotta show up looking like a vacation?”

You snort. “And you always gotta flirt like it’s your job?”

He grins. “Not a job if I enjoy it.”

Jake’s nearby. Not close. Not far. Just watching with a drink in hand, jaw tight. Sunoo and Liz are already loudly arguing over who makes better playlists. Jay and Yunjin are sitting side by side but not touching, throwing little glances every few minutes.

But Jake?

He’s not talking much. Not laughing. He hasn’t really been spending any time with you over the past week. Not texting as much. And suddenly it matters more than it should.

You pretend you’re not flirting with Heeseung. Yes, you lean in when he jokes. Yes you laugh too loudly at something stupid he says. And maybe you’re watching Jake’s reactions when you do so.  

And he sees it. He sees the way you touch Heeeung’s shoulder when he makes you laugh. Sees the way Heeseung’s eyes seem to linger too long on your top. And something in him snaps.

Just then you lean into Heeseung, Jake sees you saying something to him and then you’re leaving.

He follows you before Heeseung can.

The bass from outside the bathroom thumps through the tiled walls. You’re alone, fixing your lip gloss in the mirror, but your hands are shaking from nerves. You had a feeling  he followed you.

The door creaks open. Jake steps in. Locks it.

You meet his eyes in the mirror.

“Bathroom’s taken,” you say, tone flat.

He doesn’t leave. Just watches you. “You and Heeseung having fun?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Why?”

Jake shrugs. “You’ve been laughing at all his jokes. Hanging off him like he’s your boyfriend.”

You spin around slowly, still leaning against the sink. “So what? You jealous?”

He doesn't answer right away. Just stares at you, jaw tight, chest rising a little faster than normal.

“Should I be?”

You swallow. “I don’t know. Should you?”

Jake takes one step closer. Then another. He’s toe-to-toe with you now, his hand brushing your hip.

You don’t back down. “We’re just friends, remember? Isn’t that what we are?”

He exhales through his nose. The corner of his mouth twitches.

Then, without warning, he steps between you and the sink, arms braced on either side of you, caging you in.

You’re breathless.

“I was doing just fine,” he murmurs, voice low, eyes scanning your face, “telling myself we’re just friends.”

Your heart stutters. “What changed?”

Jake leans in, nose brushing yours. “You.”

You blink. “Because I flirted?”

“Because you know exactly what you’re doing.” His voice sharpens, heated now. “Wearing that dress. Touching his arm. Laughing like that.”

“I was just being nice—”

“No, you were provoking me. And you wanted me to see it.”

Your stomach flips.

Jake’s hand slides to your hip, pulls you flush against him. You can feel him. Hard and restrained. His voice stays low and even, but it cuts through you.

“You wanted a reaction?” His hand slips under your cover-up, skims bare skin. “Now you’re going to deal with it.”

He presses you harder against the sink. His other hand wraps around your throat—not squeezing, just holding, claiming. You half whimper half gasp, chest rising and falling deeply as you let him do with you whatever he pleases. After all, this was what you wanted.

“I’m not gonna say it,” he whispers, mouth brushing your ear. “Not yet. But I’ll show you.”

You gasp as he hooks your leg up on the sink, exposing you. You dress hikes up, bunching by your waist as your panties are put on display.

His hand slides between your thighs, brushes over the fabric clinging to you, wet and sticky.

“You’re soaked,” he murmurs, amused. “And you’re trying to act like you don’t care.”

You clench around nothing, lips parted.

He pulls your panties to the side but doesn’t give you what you want. Just strokes you slow, maddening. Teasing. Fingers never quite brushing over your clit. He plays with you like that until you react.

You whimper.

“Use your words,” he murmurs, fingers circling your hole.

“Jake…”

“Say it louder.” He commands, stopping his movement.

“Please—”

He gives your pussy a sharp slap. The sting oddly pleasurable. But the unexpectedness of it, makes you flinch.

Your eyes fly open. “What—?”

“You like begging?” he says, tone cool, eyes half-lidded. “I think you do.”

He sinks to his knees, pulls your hips forward on the counter. You scramble for grip. His mouth is hot and unrelenting — but he keeps you right on the edge. Tongue circling your clit, tugging, sucking on it but never in the way he knows you like.

Eventually he gives in, circling your clit with his tongue, before working with his jaw. Loud suckling sound can be heard mixed with your loud whimpers.

But every time you start to fall apart, he backs off.

By the third time you’re panting. Desperate. “Jake—!”

He looks up at you, lips wet. “Say you want me.”

“I want you.” You cry out, rocking your hips (or trying to) against any surface. You’re practically buzzing with the need to release, shaking in want.

“No. Say you want to be mine.”

You falter. The words feel too big.

He doesn’t push. Just pulls back slightly — and the emptiness is unbearable.

“Say it,” he says again, softer now. “Or I’ll stop.”

Your hands fist in his hair.

“I’m yours.”

His eyes flash with something akin to victory and hunger.

“That’s better.”

He stands, yanks your panties down, and pushes into you in one smooth thrust. You want to curse, the stretch almost too much. You feel too full and at the same time you want more.

 Your moan is caught halfway in your throat. He kisses you like it’s punishment, like it’s worship. One hand on your throat. The other cradling the back of your head like you’re glass.

“You make me fucking insane,” he groans, hips snapping up into you, rougher now. “You want danger? You want someone to claim you?”

“Yes,” you choke out. “Yes.”

He fucks you like it’s a message. Like he’s carving his name into you. Hips relentlessly pushing into you.

You whimper, the rough pace Jake set making you cock drunk.

Jake notices, the hand around your throat sinks lower, covering youe tit as Jake leans down.

He kisses your neck softly, his hips snapping into you. He’s so close to you that he’s almost humping into you. Your body moving with his whenever he thrusts into you.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling harshly and Jake bites you. Literally bites you. And then, he’s sucking a love bite on your skin. Right below your throat. For everyone to see.

After, when you’re trembling and dazed and the mirror’s fogged with heat, he doesn’t say a word. Just adjusts your cover-up gently, tucks your hair behind your ear, and kisses your forehead like you didn’t just break each other in a public bathroom.

The morning after the party you’re tired. Hungover. Emotionally tapped. You fumble through your kitchen, making tea like your body doesn’t ache with memory — like Jake didn’t fuck you in a bathroom last night so hard you still feel him in you.

He’s already sat behind the kitchen table, almost as if he was waiting for you to wake up. At first neither of you say anything.

Until you can’t take it anymore.

“What?” you ask with more bite than you intended.

Jake’s jaw is tight. “We need to talk.”

You cross your arms. “There’s nothing to—”

“Don’t,” he snaps. “Don’t do that again.”

You blink. “Do what?”

“Pretend it didn’t matter.”

Silence.

“You always do this,” Jake says, voice low. “Something happens, and you brush it off. You act like I’m imagining it.”

You open your mouth — and he shakes his head.

“You’re not confused. You’re scared.”

Your breath catches. You hate how right he is. He always sees you. Even when you don't want to be seen.

You try again. “Jake, we were drunk. The party—”

“I wasn’t drunk,” he says. “You know I wasn’t.”

His eyes are sharp, unreadable. “Were you?”

You hesitate. Shake your head once.

He exhales, jaw flexing — then takes a step forward. “So just say it.”

You take a shaky step back. “Say what?”

“That you want me.”

Your back hits the wall. “Jake—”

He pins you with his eyes, chest rising and falling. “Say it.”

You can’t look at him. “Why? So you can say I told you so?”

“No,” he says quietly. “So I can finally touch you without wondering if you’ll run the second we’re done.”

You grab his shirt, fisting it near his stomach, and pull him in until your breath fans his lips. “I want you,” you whisper. “All of you.”

His hands lift slow, intentional, and cup your face like you're something breakable. His thumbs brush your cheeks. He tilts your chin up, studies you.

"Okay," he says, like a vow.

When he kisses you, it’s not hurried or hungry. It’s deep. His mouth moves over yours like he’s memorizing, reclaiming. And when he finally pulls back, you're breathless.

“I’ve thought about this,” he murmurs, his lips grazing your jaw, your neck, your shoulder. “How you sound. How you taste. How you fall apart.”

His hand slides under your shirt, resting over your stomach not rushing, just feeling.

“And I’m not gonna stop this time,” he says. “Not until you forget anyone else ever looked at you.”

You gasp when his fingers dip lower, but he still doesn’t move fast. He lingers. Draws circles on your thigh like he’s playing with patience, watching you twitch.

He likes it. The way you can’t stay still. The way your breath comes shorter now, even though he’s barely touched you.

“You’re squirmy,” he murmurs, amused. “Already?”

“Jake,” you whisper, nails digging into his arms.

His gaze flicks up, sharp and dark. “Use your words.”

“You want me?” Jake asks, voice quiet but laced with heat.

“Yes,” you breathe, eyes wide.

He studies you, gaze steady. “Then prove it.”

Your heart skips. “I will. Jake—” you reach for him, desperate now, “I swear, anything.”

A flicker of something unreadable crosses his face.

“Yeah? Then let me try something,” he murmurs.

He produces a silk tie. The same one he wore this week. The same one that still smells faintly like cologne and heat and him. You hum in anticipation, you think he’s probably going to tell you to turn around and tie your wrists together. But you’re caught off guard when he speaks.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs.

You do. The tie ghosts across your cheek, a featherlight tease, before he slips it around your eyes and knots it behind your head — tight enough to hold, loose enough to keep you comfortable. Your breath catches as darkness wraps around you. It heightens everything. And everything is laced with Jake. It’s like you’re in a personal Jake-terrarium, his scent all around you, his hands ghosting over your arms, shoulders and back. He laces your fingers when you feel him against your ear, warm and close.

“You’re not gonna run this time?” His voice is low, close, threading against the shell of your ear.

“No,” you whisper. “I want this.”

“You want me,” he corrects. His fingers brush your jaw, tracing down your neck. “Say it.”

“I want you,” you repeat, voice needy.

Jake hums — satisfied, not smug. Then his hands take yours, and he guides you. Carefully. Silently. Every step feels electric. You don’t know where he’s taking you — until the air shifts, cooler now, tinged with the crisp morning air.

You’re on the balcony.

The city hums below. Too far to hear, close enough to feel. You’re hidden from view — probably. Not completely. It doesn’t matter.

Your hands rest on the railing, and Jake’s voice returns, low and calm behind you.

“Stay still.”

You do.

He steps in close, chest against your back, fingers slipping under your shirt, sliding it up, baring you to the sky.

“This okay?” he asks.

You nod, but it’s not enough.

“Words,” he reminds you, breath warm on your shoulder.

“Yes, Jake.”

The tie around your eyes tightens with your inhale. The air is cool, but Jake’s hands are fire.

He kneels behind you.

You feel his mouth first — soft, reverent — trailing kisses along the backs of your thighs, then up higher. You slightly bend over, hands gripping the balcony railing as if it’ your lifeline. And in a way it was. Because just one slip ad it could end badly – but you trust Jake. Trust him to take care of you.

His hands grip your hips. Gently at first. Then firmer. Possessive. And he holds you in place, watching as you try to rub your thighs together, but when his grip is too tight you switch to rocking your hips back and forward. it doesn’t give you any friction and that’s when Jake’s hands slide towards your butt, then under your butt, before he’s slippin one hand to your inner thighs.

But he doesn’t touch you there yet. He simply pushes his face into your clothed butt, nose pressing right where you need him. And then he says,

“You smell like you’ve been thinking about this all day.”

You whimper. He chuckles — low, pleased.

Then his fingertips glide up inside of you and you gasp. He was gentle, yet powerful. You spread your legs further, bending down even more so your chest presses against the cold railing.

“You’re soaked,” he says as he keeps pushing two digits in and out of you in a scissoring motion.  Your hips twitch. He presses you still with one hand, the other pulling at your lacy panties.

“Did you wear these for me?” he asks.

“Yes,” you breathe, wiggling your cunt over his hand.

“Did you want me to find you like this? Desperate. Squirming.”

“Yes,” you breathe, your pretty hole practically vibrating with the way you keep doing kegles.

His finger circles your clit — barely there. And you moan, knuckles white from how hard you’re holding onto the railing.

“Hold still,” he murmurs.

You try. You fail.

He tsks under his breath and let’s go of the panties. They snap. The touch stinging. You immediately still completely. “Didn’t I say still?”

You gasp. “I’m sorry—”

Jake strokes deeper once, then pulls away. You whine at the loss.

He loves this. You can feel it in the way he exhales — slow, in control. You’re on fire. He’s the one holding the match. He stands up then, hugging you from behind. He presses his hips against you and you moan, rocking yourself back into him. Jake kisses your neck, and it’s all you can focus on.

But his hands are already pulling your panties down, he lightly pats you on your butt and you step aside a bit, letting them fully fall down. You don’t worry about someone seeing you two, you were too high up for pedestrians to see and your neighbors had the view obstructed by the railing. But still, you shiver once he bares you to the outside world.

But Jake doesn’t worry, he’s back on his knees as soon as your panties hit the ground. Then one finger slips back in. Then another. He keeps them deep as he pushes them in, and out. In a hook motion, reaching the most pleasurable spot inside of you.  His whole palm is on your cunt, with his thumb teasing your clit in light, endless circles.

“You feel that?” he whispers, mouth against your ear now. “How perfect you are like this? Bare. Open. Mine.”

You whimper. “Jake—”

“Not yet.”

He pulls his fingers out. You nearly sob.

Then he brings them to your lips. “Open.”

You do. He pushes them past your mouth, slow and steady, watching as you suck him clean.

“Good girl,” he says.

You nearly come from those two words alone.

“Ready?” he asks.

You nod frantically, tie still in place, heart pounding out of your ribs. Jake pushes and hold you into his desired position. Now you’re standing straight, looking as if you’re just looking over the city (if only it weren’t for the tie still tied around your head), and Jake is holding you from behind – as if he’s just hugging you.

Your head cocks to the side, and Jake nuzzles into it. His right hand disappears behind you and you can hear him shuffling behind you.

Then you feel it — his cock, thick and warm against your entrance.

“You sure you’re not gonna run again?” he murmurs, teasing the tip against you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper. “Just—please.”

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me,” you plead, grinding yourself against his dick. And Jake finally pushes his hard dick into you. You don’t think you’ve ever been stretched by a dick this good and you kind of stop breathing. The lack of oxygen and vision made the feeling of his dick ten times better.

And you know Jake feels it too. He groans as soon as his cockhead stuffs you, hips stilling and stuttering for a moment.

You whine, squeezing him in a silent command to give you more, more, more.

“More Jakey, please,” you whine, he tsks but complies. Slowly stuffing you full.

He doesn’t give either of you time to move before he’s thrusting into you. Slowly. So slowly you think you know how every vein looks, how every ridge looks and you still want more.

Jake fucks you with intent. Deep, deliberate strokes that claim you inch by inch. You’re crying out, gripping the railing, blindfolded and desperate. He fucks you like he’s memorizing every sound you make. Like this isn’t just sex it’s proof.

That you’re not going anywhere.

That you’re his.

And when he finally lets you fall apart, it’s to the sound of his voice behind you, whispering like a spell

“That’s it. Good girl. Let them hear how mine you are.”

Your body’s still trembling, silk tie slipping down your nose, the air cooling your skin. Jake doesn’t speak right away. He just holds you from behind, pressing a kiss to your shoulder — then another, higher this time, near your neck.

You feel his heartbeat against your back. Fast. Just like yours.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers.

You start to laugh, just a little. Maybe from adrenaline. Maybe because you don’t know what else to do.

Jake gently unties the blindfold, letting it fall away. He cups your jaw, turns you to face him, and really looks at you.

“Too much?” he asks softly.

“No,” you say too quickly. Then realizing that might sound dismissive you add, “It was… good. Intense. But good.”

He studies you for a beat, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. You think he might tease you, say something cocky but instead, he kisses your forehead.

Then your temple.

Then your lips.

“Come on,” he murmurs. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to protest.

Carries you in, literally. Like you weigh nothing. Like you’re something precious.

He runs a warm bath and adds eucalyptus salt like it’s routine. His hands are all over you — not sexually now, just present. Stroking your back as you sink into the water. Brushing damp hair from your face. Letting you lean into his chest when you finally relax.

You close your eyes. Not because you're tired. Because it’s easier than letting him see how much this is affecting you.

He still sees it.

“You okay?” he asks again, quieter now, as if he knows you’re trying not to feel anything too real.

“I’m fine,” you mutter. But your fingers are clinging to his forearm.

Jake notices. Smiles a little.

“I always kiss your temple after,” he says casually, like it’s a fact. “Even before tonight.”

Your eyes snap open. “You do?”

He nods. “It’s where you melt the most.”

You scoff. “That’s not—” But you trail off. Because yeah. You probably do.

Once you’re dry, wrapped in a soft towel and oversized shirt that smells like him, he pulls you into bed. Doesn’t let go.

You lie there together, limbs tangled, and it should be awkward, but it’s not. Not until the words slip out of your mouth — too fast, like everything else with you lately.

“So… what now?”

Jake shifts to look at you. “Now I take you on a real date.”

You blink. “Even if we’re already fucking?”

“Especially if we’re already fucking.”

That makes you laugh. So does he. Your noses bump as you kiss again, slower this time. Lazy. Sweet.

Afterwards you head to a late lunch — the usual post-party ritual. Sunoo picked the spot: some cozy place with overpriced eggs and bottomless mimosas. Everyone’s a little sluggish, mildly hungover, and deeply curious.

You and Jake walk in together.

At first, no one clocks it.

But then you slide into the booth next to Jake. And his hand is still resting on the small of your back when you sit. You’re glowing. He looks way too pleased.

Sunoo is the first to notice.

His eyes narrow. “Wait…”

Jake doesn’t say anything. Just leans back, throws his arm casually behind you like it’s nothing like it’s normal and smirks.

Sunoo gasps.

“WAIT.”

Jay lifts an eyebrow over his coffee. “Here we go.”

“Is this—are you two—” Sunoo points between you like he’s solving a murder. “Did you finally do it?”

Liz drops her fork. “Finally?”

Yujin gasps, slapping Jay’s arm. “I told you something was up after the haunted house.”

Jay just sips his drink. “Yeah, but I figured we’d all be grandparents before they figured it out.”

Heeseung doesn’t say anything at first. He just tilts his head, eyes flicking between the two of you. There’s a little smile tugging at his mouth — you think it’s fond, but you also see the tiniest flicker of something else. Surprise, maybe. Something more complicated. Still, he raises his glass like a toast.

“Well,” he says smoothly. “I guess Jake finally manned up.”

You look at him, curious, but Jake doesn’t flinch. “Someone had to,” he replies, calm and steady.

Sunoo clutches his chest. “So it’s real? Like real real?”

Jake nods. And then like it’s not a big deal at all he laces your fingers with his under the table.

You don’t pull away.

“Wait,” Liz says, eyes darting around. “Have you guys, like… had the talk?”

Jake looks at you. “Have we?”

You smile at him, that private kind of smile only he seems to get. “I think last night counted.”

Sunoo practically combusts.

“OH MY GOD THEY TOTALLY FUCKED.”

You slap your palm over your face. Jake just laughs, entirely unbothered. “Thanks for keeping it classy, Sunoo.”

Heeseung raises his brows. “Bathroom?”

Jay chokes on his drink.

“Not confirming or denying,” Jake says but he’s grinning now, actually grinning like he just won the lottery and isn’t even trying to hide it.

“You’re disgusting,” Yujin says through a laugh, but she’s clearly happy for you. “But like, in a cute way. I guess.”

“Disgustingly overdue,” Liz mutters. “Seriously, this has been months of tension. I deserve a gift basket.”

Sunoo nods, dead serious. “With candles. And at least one thank-you note.”

You roll your eyes but you’re still smiling.

And underneath the noise, the teasing, the laughter, Jake leans closer to your ear. Low enough that no one else hears.

“Mine,” he murmurs.

You look at him. “Yours.”

And for once, saying it feels easy.

[matchpointfaist]

reader or probably art being jealous and the other person just being completely oblivious about it (im a sucker for jealous trope)

don't blame me, love made me crazy

jealous! art x gf! reader

tw for lowkey toxic art, smut, jealousy. boy is named miles bc of the love island mobile game fun fact! he is my least fav character, switch art and switch reader kinda!

it starts with a group project, which is already hell, but then you’re partnered with miles whitaker. economics major, legacy student, smug grin, and the kind of charm that makes TAs give bonus points just for showing up. and art hates him. viscerally. you, of course, don’t notice. you’re too busy managing the three-slide presentation, the budget breakdown, and the group’s completely useless communication thread. miles, at least, shows up. and flirts. you laugh when he calls you “the brains of the operation.” you text him back when he asks about the meeting time. you even thank him when he buys you a matcha after a late night study session. and art? he notices all of it. he doesn’t say anything at first. he’s not the type to pick fights or throw tantrum, but he simmers. he plays more aggressively at practice, chews the inside of his cheek when he sees you texting. he stops asking “how’s the project going?” because he already knows you'll bring him up.

it all comes to a head one thursday afternoon. you're sitting cross legged on the quad, laptop balanced precariously on your knees, when miles appears with his usual confidence, bordering on cockiness. art spots you both as he’s walking back from the courts, racket bag slung over his shoulder, hair still damp with sweat. he sees Miles lean down, say something that makes you smile. god, you smile, wide and easy, the one art usually earns with book recs and dumb puns and early morning coffee drops. then miles tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and art's heart stops for a moment.

he walks faster, jaw clenched. by the time he reaches you, his irritation is clear, and he doesn’t even try to hide the stare he levels at miles. “hey,” you say brightly, looking up, “you done with practice?” art’s eyes flick to you, soft for a second, before returning to the boy at your side. miles smirks, “donaldson. didn’t recognize you off the court,” “guess you don’t see me often enough, then,” the tension spikes, the air tight. you blink, confused, “art, this is miles-” “we’ve met,” he says flatly. “oh, right. from econ,” miles stretches out, lounging a little too comfortably next to you. “we’ve been spending so much time together with this group work. you know how it is,” art says nothing. you look between them, finally sensing something weird, “are you okay?” art’s mouth tightens, “yeah, peachy,”

miles stands, brushing nonexistent dirt off his jeans, “well, i should let you two lovebirds catch up,” he winks, fucking winks, at you, “don’t work too hard tonight,” you wave, confused, and turn to art, “what was that?” he doesn’t answer, just stares after miles like he’s mentally ripping him in half. “wait,” you say slowly, eyes narrowing, “are you jealous?” he doesn’t answer. his eyes are steely, his posture rigid, shoulders squared like he's back on the court, facing a serve he’s already sure he’ll lose to. the silence stretches, and something unsettles in your chest. “art?” his jaw ticks, “you really don’t see it, do you?” you frown, “see what?” “miles,” his voice is clipped, tense, “he’s not just trying to study. he flirts with you every chance he gets,” you scoff, “that’s ridiculous,”

he crosses his arms, “is it?” “yes! he’s just friendly-” "friendly doesn’t look like that,” “he bought me a matcha and said i was smart, art. that’s not a proposal,” his eyes flash, but he doesn’t raise his voice. instead, it goes low, restrained. “he tucked your hair behind your ear,” “so?” “so-” he breaks off, exhaling sharp through his nose, “so you let him. you smiled at him like that meant something,” you go still. “i smiled because i was trying to be nice,” you say slowly, “god forbid i be polite to someone i’m working with,” “it’s not about being polite. it’s about you not seeing it, and me having to see it every time i look over and he’s next to you like he belongs there,”

“oh, come on,” you snap, “what exactly do you want from me? should i stop answering his texts? refuse to work with him in public so you don’t get uncomfortable?” “i want you to notice,” he says, louder now, “i want you to see how he looks at you, because the longer you don’t, the more it feels like you like it,” your breath catches, your face hot. there’s a silence, cold and wide, jarring. you blink once, twice, but your voice is steady, “you really think i want that kind of attention? that i’d pick someone like miles over you?” your stomach twists, “jesus, art. that’s what this is, isn’t it? you don’t trust me,”

“that’s not-” he runs a hand through his hair, looking away, “that’s not what i meant,” “but it’s what you said,” you bite, “that i smile too much, that i’m not paying attention, that maybe i want it,” “i didn’t mean it like that,” he says quietly, “but yeah, fine, i’m jealous. and yeah, i hate it. i hate watching him get parts of you i don’t. i hate feeling like i’m asking for scraps of your attention while you text him back before i’ve even left practice,” you shake your head, sighing, “you’re not asking for scraps. you never have to. i give you everything, art. i’ve shown up for you in every way i know how,” “then why does it feel like i’m always one step behind?” that lands like a hit. you pause, taken aback.

“i didn’t know you felt like that,” you say, voice thinner than you want it to be. he exhales, finally letting his arms fall to his sides, “i didn’t either until now,” "i have class," you run a hand through your hair, "i'll just talk to you later," "baby, wait-" "it's fine, art," you mumble, "i'll see you tomorrow or something," "yeah, okay," he nods, forcing himself to let you go, "i love you," it comes out like a question, tentative and scared. you look up at him, eyes softening, "i love you too. i'll call you after class," he watches you go, biting at the inside of his cheek, regret teeming in his stomach, met with lingering frustration. when you finally got finished with your classes, you walked back to your dorm, your phone balanced on your shoulder as the line rang. he picked up on the third ring, "hey, baby," "hi," you smiled to yourself, relieved that he didn't seem angry anymore, "i'm all done for the day. do y'wanna come over?" "yeah, of course. i went for a run, so i should probably shower first. give me 30?" "mkay, see you then," you hung up, tucking your phone into your pocket.

he was at your door exactly 30 minutes later, hair still dripping water from his shower, a hoodie thrown on over his shorts. “hi, pretty,” he smiled, but you could still see the foundations of hesitation in his eyes. “mm, hey baby,” you smiled softly up at him, pulling him inside, “you feel better?” “yeah, little bit,” he nodded, immediately collapsing onto your bed, reaching for you. you crawled into his lap, brushing the damp hair from his forehead gently. “do you wanna talk about it?” “no,” he mumbled, “just feel like an asshole and an idiot, but i still fucking hate that guy,” “i won’t work with him anymore after this,” you brushed your lips against his jaw, “does that make you feel better?” “don’t have to do that,” his hands settled on your hips, “just fucking hate the thought of him touching you, of you smiling at him like that,” “art,” you frowned slightly, pausing your kisses against his skin, “come on, baby. you know he barely touched me, it was just my hair,” “yeah, brushed it away just like i do to you,” his voice grew slightly more tense, and he shifted underneath you, “you’re not- he can’t just go around touching you whenever he wants,” “hey,” you pulled back, looked into his eyes, “he won’t touch me again, alright? you’re okay,” “i know i’m okay,” he grumbled, “you don’t get it,”

“make me get it, then,” you settled back down into him, pressing a kiss to his throat, “show me,” he sighed like he was holding something back, his hands tightening on your hips, “you’re being a tease,” “i’m not doin anything,” you played innocent, sucking lightly at the skin beneath his jaw. he hummed, quiet and low, “you just can’t help yourself, that it?” “maybe,” you giggled softly, “maybe i liked seeing you all worked up over me. think it’s hot,” “yeah? you think it’s hot to piss me off?” he rolled his eyes, but you could see his cheeks warm, “maybe you should put that mouth to use, stop antagonizing me,” you grinned to yourself, content, and shifted off of his lap, “go on, then. take what you want,” you two walked this line often, shifting between art taking control and passing it back to you. it was rare to see him in this element, frustrated and bossy. he traced your jaw with his fingers gently as you sat on the carpeted floor at the edge of the bed, his shorts tented, “you want that, baby? want me to use you?” a surprised, soft hum left you, “yeah, want you to use me, wanna make it up to you,” “oh, fuck,” he groaned quietly, already taking off his basketball shorts, watching the way your eyes darkened when they fell on his exposed skin.

“you’re already so hard,” your voice was low, sultry, awed. “pretty girl in my lap telling me she likes pissing me off, and you thought i wouldn’t be?” he replied sarcastically, curling one hand at the back of your head just enough to gather a bit of hair, “open up, since you want it so bad,” you obeyed, humming around him as he slid into your open mouth, heavy and warm. “fuck,” he groaned, head thrown back, “god, you’re so warm,” you laved at his flushed skin, one of your hands coming to rest on his balls, his moans growing more frequent at the added stimulation. “such a good girl,” he panted, “god, look at you,” you slipped your free hand between your thighs, rubbing your clit as he hit the back of your throat, your eyes welling with tears from the pleasure. “bet you’re so wet,” he managed to bite out, “you’re so sweet, soaking from sucking my cock. god, you’re perfect,” your eyes fell closed as you worked your fingers quicker, your tongue tracing the vein of his cock. “close,” he warned, the muscles of his thighs twitching slightly, his moans more whines now, “baby, fuck, please,” you could feel his control slipping, the dominant nature disappearing the closer he got, “can i cum in your mouth?” you didn’t answer, just hummed and hollowed out your cheeks in the way you knew he liked, his hand tightening in your hair. “oh, god, baby-“ he whined, hips bucking, “cumming- fuck, fuck you’re so good-“ you swallowed it all, licking him clean slowly, watching the way his chest rose and fell rapidly as you pulled away.

“thank you,” he managed between breaths, “you’re perfect, i swear to god. please come here,” you smiled to yourself, climbing back onto the bed, your knees red from the carpet, “what d’you want, baby?” “want you to sit on my face,” he said it with a certainty you didn’t see often, “please,” “oh,” you warmed, “yeah, okay. whatever you want,” he laid on his back, waiting patiently, cock still half hard. you held onto the headboard as you settled just above his mouth, gazing down at him, “you ready?” he didn’t bother answering. his big hands just grabbed at your hips, pulling you down as a surprised gasp left your throat, his tongue meeting your clit immediately. “oh!” you moaned, gripping the headboard, “oh, fuck,” he lapped at you desperately, hungry for you like always, moaning into your pussy. you ground against him, unable to help yourself, whining and moaning above him. he dipped his tongue inside of you, moaning, the sound vibrating against your walls as you clenched around him. “god, fuck- just like that,” you pulled ay his hair with one hand, holding yourself up with the other, “you want me to cum, baby? i’m so close,” he nodded underneath you, sucking your clit into his mouth, lapping needily. “oh, god,” your thighs shook as you approached your high, “oh- art, fuck, i’m-“ you cried out as you came, practically riding his face, your eyes rolled back and legs shaking. he worked you through it, his mouth slowing but not yet disappearing, giving you the decision when to stop. you slowly, shakily, got off of him, laying down beside him as you both caught your breath.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmured a few moments later, mouth still slick. you smiled sleepily, running your nails over his abs lightly, “i love you. even when you’re being jealous,” “can you blame me?” he rolled his eyes playfully, “you’re the most perfect woman alive. obviously i don’t want to lose you,” “you won’t ever lose me,” you rolled over, resting your chin on his chest, “you’re stuck with me,” “mm, what a way to live,” he hummed, “you promise?” “promise,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “not going anywhere, honey,” he squeezed your side, holding you closer, “never gonna get tired of hearing that,”

[a-friend-of-mara]

TLDR: me and a friend of mine collude to cause someone who's a jerk to us have ro redo an assignment by setting the teacher's expectations super high before they presented

On a similar note

One time in high school (10th grade) my class was assigned like a week or two in order to make, and present a project on a historical figure of significance... I chose Alan Turing because I'm autism about computers. I was already gonna do well on this because I actually was interested in what I was researching but when one of the class "overconfident asshats" signed up to present third... well me and my friend, who's fairly good at the classwork but sometimes a bit oblivious¹, gave each other a look. In one whole second we just communicated "You wanna rock the curve and tank this bitch's grade? Ight let's go."

The biggest error that people make about their presentations is, 1: putting all their research into words on the projector and just reading off of it, causing them to never maintain eye contact and for people like me who read kinda fast, find it very boring... a sentiment that isn't helped by them reading in a monotone voice which just reeks of "I dont care about this"

If you do this and wanna improve your grades without too much effort, print out all the words and hold it in your hands so you can read off it while facing the class instead of the board, wanna improve more? Make your noted bullet points and no longer than 12 words so you can glance down and get the next thing you need to say. Thats what my friend did, bulleted notes, made eye contact with the class, even tho he has autism he had more inflection in his voice than most people, I could tell he was excited to talk about it. Overall he did exactly what the teacher expected, got a 100/100 score

I did not do what the teacher expected, I went a bit above and beyond.

My neurospicy ass memorized the whole presentation. There was less than 30 words on all my slides, including the title and my name.

I was given 9 days notice that I could infodump about a specific subject for 5 minutes without being interrupted and I proceeded to go through the whole thing without loosing many people's attention, I was consistently asking questions, was very enthusiastic about it, and I didn't have to look at any notes so I could just go go go. After the class meanies, trying to defend their friend who's going after me try to ask questions I wouldn't know to lower the teacher's expectations and subsequently their friend's grade. Unfortunately for them I knew all this shit. Because of my ability to answer all the questions the class had in easy to understand and fast explanations I got bonus points... ended that assignment with 102%

The mf after me had to redo the assignment.

[pinkfrostedcwpcake]

mark grayson x hyper feminine cheerleader!reader 𓈒 ♡ ﾟ𓂃 📣🎀

hi dollies!! this is my first ever fanfic so it's not perfect,, but i'm so excited (kinda nervous) to share it ໒꒰ྀི ∩⸝⸝∩ ꒱ྀི১ there'll be more to come in the future! but for now, i hope you guys enjoy and i can't wait to grow this little blog of mine :3

tags: fluff, mark grayson x hyperfem!reader, r! is shy at first, sweet kind of love, strangers to friends to lovers <3, lowercase intended

❤︎₊ ⊹ for a while now, you've started to notice mark in your classes. in fact, you started to notice him just about everywhere you went. in the hallways, in class, heck! even at cheer practice, you'd spot him walking home reading those comics you always heard him geek out about to his friend william. it made you wonder was he always this present or am i finally starting to pay attention?

your teammates didn't pay any mind to guys like him. you however? you were curious and wanted to know more about him.

you started taking into account of the tiny things he did like how he would bite the end of his pencil or pen in class when he was deep into thought or how he would push his black hair back when it started to collect on his forehead. such tiny things yet you couldn't help but think

he's so cute . . .

you noticed all these cute little quirks of his but, he never really noticed you. it wasn't until the group project you guys really got to know each other.

you were sitting at your desk in class, applying your signature lip gloss and spraying your sugary vanilla body spray on your pulse points, while making sure your pink gel manicure was still looking good.

"y/n!" your beauty session was cut short when your teacher abruptly called your name, "you'll be working with mark."

you look over to where mark was sitting, his gaze met yours. before you knew it, you picked up your pink purse and walked over to where mark was sitting. you sat in the empty seat next to his as you placed your purse down, avoiding eye contact with him.

the first few minutes were painfully awkward. you tried to muster up the courage to say something to him or even a simple "hi", but nothing came out.

"so uhh, you wanna work on this part of the project and i'll do the other?" finally the awkward silence was broken with his voice.

that stupidly sweet voice of his.

you looked at him and nodded with a slight smile. you don't really know how but day by day as you both continued on the project, conversations blossomed between the two of you which ended in numbers being exchanged.

you guys started talking to each other more frequently. in hallways, soft glances and small waves were exchanged between the two of you and texts asking about each other's days and plans became part of your daily routine and you honestly enjoyed it. talking to him was like heaven on earth. it wasn't until now you realized

you really have fallen for this guy.

this dork occupied all your thoughts. he was the main character of all your imaginary scenarios. during class, cheer practice, even at home, you couldn't help but imagine him holding your hand, walking to class together, going on dates, playing with his hair. ugh! he was just so stupidly dorky, it was adorable.

after school, he offered to walk you home and of course you took up the offer. i mean, how could you not? you've been crushing on this cutie for a month now. on the walk to your house, you guys spoke about anything and everything. you listened to him ramble about seance dog and how it deserves so much more recognition. you giggled at how cute he was when he spoke so passionately about his interests.

when you guys finally reached your house, you waved goodbye to him but before you could open the door, "wait!"

"hm?", you turn to face mark and you notice a pale pink flush across his cheeks.

"uhm so..uh i know this may sound-", a soft smile creeps across your face as you watch mark stumble over his words.

"do you uh wanna go out some time? like maybe a cafe or something like that.." he finally manages to ask.

"of course!", you respond with no hesitation, a smile beaming across your face.

mark is somehow taken aback and sighs in relief, "good, i'll text you later then", he waves before taking off, walking to the direction of his house.

the date was so much better than you had imagined. you both landed on going to a cute bubble tea shop nearby, then taking a walk in the park. through this date, you guys really got to know each other and you started to feel the butterflies in your tummy even more. and to make things better, he was such a gentleman. he pushed your chair in at the boba shop, always walked on the outer part of the sidewalk while you walked on the inner part, you guys even held hands while walking

at the end of the date, he walked you back to your place and it was just the two of you outside your house. you took the moment to really admire all of his features. his soft hair, those stupidly adorable eyes that resembled those of a puppy.

"y/n", he started.

"yes?" you look up at him with a confused expression, noticing how nervous he looks.

his hand finds its way to the skin on the back of his neck. he clears his throat before he asks, "will you...uh, will you be my girlfriend?"

"took you long enough!!" you tease while lightly pushing his arm.

"so is that a-"

"yes!" you bursted out, " yes of course! i'd love to be your girlfriend mark." you respond as your soft smile was still plastered across your glossed lips.

𓂂 𓏸 🍰𓂅🎀🥛

the next day everyone knew you guys were dating. your teammates were...shocked to say the least but they were still happy for you.

william and eve? they were the ones who convinced mark to ask you out in the first place.

mark would always ramble to the two of them about you saying saying things like, "she's a cool girl and everything, like REALLY cool. but she's always hanging out with the cheerleaders and i don't know i think i'm way out of her league."

in response they would always say, "just ask her out!!", fast forward to when they see the two of you hand in hand at school the next day, it was safe to say they were proud.

it didn't really matter to you and mark what others thought of the relationship though. all you both cared about was each other. and being by mark's side, was more than enough for you and definitely more than enough for him. 𓈒 ♡ ﾟ𓂃 🎀

[huggywuggysuppy]

One of my favorite topics ever !! How all three of G&TS were planning on falling apart by the finale !!

Scott was the most deliberate in trying to pull back and lean into his exit strategy (Cleo/Roomies) while using Gem and Impulse as public facing shields to deflect attention. In ep1 he tells the audience “I’d like to team with Gem (new guy) and Impulse (finale of LimL)” and then clings to them until they have to team. Why choose these two? Gem is one of the few people who is bigger and scarier than Scott himself, especially when he pushes her into leadership over and over again, and Impulse balances out team composition as non threatening but very functional utility. G&TS is indisputably the strongest (/scariest) team, but Scott is not the strongest or weakest member, therefore not the target and able to slip under the radar more than ever.

Scott then spends the entire season feeding Gem bad info as her scheming evil eunuch: most obviously incorrect yellow task guesses, except right info for guessing Pearl’s, one of many attempts to make them enemies. Because he is SO insecure about Gem leaving them — mostly him — for the Mounders, and tries everything to sow discord. Beyond complaining about them to Gem and Impulse, Scott picks fights with Joel and taunts Mumbo and even eggs on Bdubs’ distrust of Gem. Because even though it’s absurd for those 3 to be okay with it, Gem and Pearl might be strong enough to merge the teams regardless. And if that happens, where Impulse has BDubs and Soup Group have each other, Scott has no allies in Mounders to hide behind.

Impulse’s loyalty is a lot less scheming and more to do with ambition. He’s not comfortable with Scott — consciously or not recognizing Scott values him only as fodder — and itches to pull off plans away from Gem’s glory. During the tower off, he offers to help, but almost immediately runs off to keep playing tag — against Scott mind you which most alliances would break over. Impy isn’t scared of going solo. He’ll stick with Gem and fight the ender dragon for her, but he doesn’t want to stand next to her in the final three, and definitely not Scott again.

Gem knows the team is unstable, but values their position in the server — as one of the scariest players, she may as well have the power to act like it. She goes out of her way to stop Scott and Impulse from splitting off: gathering for team projects like building spawners/walls/towers, the “are you breaking up with me?!” bit, even targeting Roomies repeatedly to weaken Scott’s exit strategy. Boogey army into murder camel clean up was mostly improv and shinies on their own, but the finale is undeniably planned. Both Pearl but especially Gem even organize plans and directly discuss the merger with their teams: proposing base sharing although the session moves too fast for that to properly happen. All the while she reminds Scott and Impy their position as a team that stands to win together.

Because allying with the Mounders is the one way to keep G&TS together: being even more advantageous than anything else they could betray each other for. Ep7 clean up fully demonstrated that to Imp and Scott as Gem+Mounders+Scar hunted down the survivors ruthlessly. And in the finale, once they’re hunting Roomies as a pack, it’s too late for Imp and Scott to split off. Even Grian’s final attack leaves them too weak to betray one another for the Mounders. From there, they can only lay down their lives for Gem.

To answer the original question: Gem was always planning on G&TS to fall apart. But she did everything she could to keep G&TS the best possible choice strategically and socially. And if they ever did split off from her, she was fully prepared to join Mounders (Pearl) herself. If only she ever got to…

I'll always be curious how close Gem actually was to betraying the Scotts in secret life. Scott seemed pretty concerned about her leaving them for Pearl. He brings it up several times, even in the finale when they're fighting the Mounders he still makes a point to tell her that Pearl's the one shooting her.

He mentions it again in wild life. When he sees Gem and Pearl arguing in episode 2 he says to Gem "Last time you two were close to abandoning our allyship so you can be besties. You were camel buddies." And Gem doesn't deny it at all, she just says "Then she 2v1ed me!".

It does make me wonder. Gem specifically told them to go after Joel and Bdubs first. If everything had gone the way she wanted, would she have teamed up with Pearl to kill Scott and Impulse at the end?

[camficdiner]

GIRL am I having the day of days... I need some protective nature to read right now. Why must insecure men/orgs come after successful women/women run orgs?

Also, your writing keeps me going during the day on my breaks.

Could I please get:

[1.1][2.14]->naturally need an older woman age gap (6-year anon here)[3.6 Fluff-Angst-Comfort][4.3]

Basically: You're in an established long-distance relationship and after a cozy long weekend visit to Van in season you get called back to the office earlier than anticipated because a local org (municipality maybe) is trying to hijack part of your job and what you do and you need to stand up for your org (and yourself at a public meeting). You explain to Quinn and head back early not expecting anything more than what he can give from distance in season (good luck text, delivery of your favorite drink, etc). Lo and behold after the biggest cross examination of your life where you're drained, who is in the back ready to pounce on the dunces coming for you? HIM. Whether or not he maintains a professional demeanor is up to you. You get home and just collapse into him from all the emotions of the days leading up to the meeting and the meeting itself.

This is so long OMG if it's too much I totally understand, just needed to put it out there.

☕️ cams fic diner — order 083

🍒 thank you: To every woman who’s ever had to defend what she built. You shouldn’t have to — but when you do, this one’s got your back.

I really hope i made your day slightly better angel

💬 The Quiet Things He Does

✨ description & prompts:

• Quinn Hughes

• Age gap, older woman (6-year difference)

• Fluff • Angst • Comfort, soft smut

• Established long-distance relationship

• Bonus trope: Wearing his jersey in the kitchen

• wc ~ 2k

✨🧁🍒🛼

You’re not even supposed to be here.

Not in this windowless city hall chamber, not in heels that ache like old regrets, and definitely not with your voice cracking as you speak on behalf of the women who’ve built everything alongside you.

Your long weekend in Vancouver — three full days with Quinn, finally, finally — was supposed to extend until Wednesday. Slow mornings. Lazy kisses. That moment in his kitchen when you wore nothing but his black C jersey and he leaned in behind you, sleepy and shirtless, arms around your waist while the kettle hissed on the stove. The kind of visit that kept you going when the distance between you felt more like a canyon than a calendar issue.

But then came the message:

A local org — one that hadn’t even shown interest before — was suddenly trying to leverage their connections to take over half of your project’s funding. Not out of innovation. Not out of ability. But because they saw women doing it better, faster, and louder.

And the municipality was listening.

So you booked the next flight home. You explained it to Quinn in his hallway, still in the socks he loaned you, still smelling like his sheets.

“I need to be there,” you said, trying to sound braver than you felt. “They’re not taking what we built.”

He didn’t fight you on it. He just pulled you in, kissed your hair, and said, “Tell them who the fuck you are.”

You laughed. You cried. You told him not to worry. And then you left.

⸻

The meeting is brutal.

Patronizing questions. Interruptions. A city liaison who doesn’t know what the fuck they’re talking about but loves hearing himself do it. Your voice is steady — practiced — but your spine aches from the effort. Your name gets twisted. Your work gets misrepresented. And at one point, someone even suggests that your org “lacks the infrastructure” to handle the volume of success you’ve had this year.

You stare at him. Calm. Controlled.

“Maybe you’re confusing infrastructure with influence,” you say, voice low and dangerous. “We don’t need your structure. We have results.”

Murmurs. Silence. A few faces glance across the aisle.

That’s when you see him.

At the back of the room — suit jacket over a hoodie, hair still damp from the rain, standing near the exit like he’s been there all along.

Quinn.

He meets your eyes and doesn’t smile. Doesn’t blink. Just nods, once. Steady. Unshaken.

Your breath catches. But you can’t stop. You finish what you came here to do.

⸻

Later, you don’t remember the commute home. The adrenaline fades, and all that��s left is the throb of tension in your temples and the ache behind your ribs.

Your apartment door opens. Quinn’s already inside. He must’ve gotten your spare key from your friend, the one who keeps it in her bag “just in case.”

The lights are dim. There’s tea on the counter. Your favorite takeout container sits on the kitchen island.

He doesn’t say anything when you step in. Just pulls you into him — slow and warm and full-body — and presses his mouth to your temple.

“Don’t say anything,” you whisper. “Just—don’t. I’ll fall apart if you do.”

So he doesn’t.

He just holds you. One hand cradling the back of your head. The other stroking slow, heavy lines down your spine. Your tears come quietly. His shirt absorbs them. He rocks you just barely, like he’s grounding you through motion alone.

And when your breathing finally evens, when the worst of it passes and you’re limp against him, he cups your face and murmurs, “You shouldn’t have had to do that alone.”

You close your eyes.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” you say.

He kisses your cheek. “I booked the flight while you were in the meeting. Had a few words I wanted to say to that guy in the grey tie. But I figured your way was stronger.”

You laugh, hoarse and wrecked. “That was your professional demeanor?”

“Almost got kicked out,” he mutters. “Worth it.”

⸻

That night, he sleeps facing you.

One hand curled around your waist. Thumb brushing your ribcage every few minutes like he’s reminding himself you’re real, and here, and his.

He doesn’t say much. Just lets the silence stretch between you like balm over a bruise.

And in the morning — early, before the sun warms the skyline — you walk into your kitchen wearing nothing but his jersey again. Hair mussed. Skin soft from sleep. No makeup. No defense.

You boil water. He wraps himself around you again, bare chest pressed to your back, voice still rough.

“You looked like a goddamn storm yesterday,” he says. “I’ve never been prouder.”

You exhale slowly. Lean back into him.

“Still scared.”

He hums against your shoulder. “Then let me be the one thing you don’t have to be strong about.”

You nod. Eyes shut.

And for the first time in days, you let yourself believe it’s not all on you. That even when the world takes aim —

you’re not alone.

⸻

Steam curls from the mug in your hand, sweet and citrusy and exactly how he remembered you liked it. You’re quiet — the good kind. Loose-limbed, finally relaxed, jersey hem brushing your thighs as you lean against the kitchen counter.

Quinn sits at the small table a few feet away, watching you with the kind of gaze that makes heat crawl up your neck. His fingers tap slowly against his mug, but he hasn’t taken a sip. Not really. His focus is on you — entirely, silently, absolutely.

You lift your eyes. “What?”

He shakes his head, a slow pull of a smile playing at his mouth. “Nothing.”

You raise a brow, and he leans back in the chair, spreading his legs a little wider like he’s daring you to ask again.

So you don’t ask. You walk toward him — slow, deliberate. His jersey shifts over your skin, brushing your bare thighs, sleeves slipping slightly over your hands. He doesn’t look away. Doesn’t blink. Just tracks your every move like he’s memorizing the details.

You settle into his lap, knees bracketing his hips, warm skin on denim. His hands move instantly to your thighs, sliding up with reverence, thumbs circling gently.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this,” he murmurs, voice gravel-soft against the quiet. “You. In my jersey. In my space.”

You tilt your head. “That a fantasy, Hughes?”

He shrugs. “A need.”

Your heart skips, and it’s stupid — you’ve been together long enough to know the feeling, but it still gets you. Every time. The calm of him. The way he doesn’t chase, doesn’t grab, just waits — lets you give him everything on your own terms.

You dip your head, pressing your forehead against his. He lets out a breath, then kisses you — slow and deep, his hands squeezing your thighs as you shift on his lap, just enough to tease. His hips twitch under you.

“Fuck,” he breathes into your mouth, voice strained now. “Don’t start something unless you want me to make you late again.”

You smile, nipping lightly at his bottom lip. “I thought I had the day off.”

His grip tightens.

“Even better.”

You press your chest to his, the soft jersey fabric catching between you. His hands slide beneath it, over the curve of your hips, your waist, your back — palms big and grounding, like he’s trying to anchor you to him.

“You’ve been holding it together for days,” he whispers, kissing your jaw now, your neck, slow and reverent. “Let go.”

And you do.

You grind once against him, slow and subtle, and he groans into your skin, hands cupping your ass to guide you. The kiss deepens — less about heat, more about connection, the kind that unfurls through your body like a slow burn.

When he finally lifts you from the chair, carrying you toward the bedroom with your legs around his waist and the jersey still on, he doesn’t rush. He lays you down like something sacred, presses kisses over your collarbone, your thighs, the soft curve of your stomach.

“I just want you warm,” he whispers, sliding the hem of the jersey up with steady hands. “Safe. Here.”

You nod, eyes glassy, throat tight.

“I am.”

And for the next hour — bare limbs tangled in sheets, his breath in your ear, his hands never leaving your skin — you are.

[alrightiguesstheblameisonme]

Alright, because this topic seems to be doing rounds in the Tumblr PJM circle yet again, I am gonna share with you as an experienced Jimin Stan how you can adjust your stanning experience. These are my reflections and lessons from growing into the happy Jimin fan I am now.

Twitter isn't the real world. I don't know just how many times we have to reinstate this. Yes, JM isn't stan twitter's token favourite. Have you seen their favourites? Do you want him to be that? Yes, that platform's nature has turned it into a breeding ground for nasty shippers. People lie, say things that no human should type out and get away with it. I understand how the vileness can impact you, but for the love of god, it doesn't translate into any kind of notable impact or a real issue for him. Yes, I know about the edited posters at Old BigHit building. Yes, I know about his father turning off his comments (who has since done a discharge event for him, continues to be showered in fan love - a friend of mine recently went to the cafe and gave him a bouquet and he was so smiley and happy, a panocha article isn't changing his way of life ). Yeah it's a nuisance. But it's probably impacting you, a fan, way more than him, a world renowned artist who expects some of these weird actions from fandoms. A middle aged NJZ fan literally went up to a BTS installation during Festa and wrote 'Tokkis forever'. That's a blatant form of disrespect. Yoongi got wreaths addressing him for weeks. Taehyung got collectively unstanned due to his MCDonalds photo with hundreds of thousands of likes. Jk's dog's instagram comment section is filled with filth, demands of solo music asap and accusations of FanService. Kpop has always been a nasty zone since Gen 1. BTS knows they have antis out there. It's part of the gig. Jimin is literally Korea's favourite BTS boy and top IDOL, they love him. I know because I have been there multiple times, spoken to locals, and gone to Busan. What you see on the internet isn't the reality. He's got those five old homophobic K-JJKs as opps, but then they are also an opps to JK given their nasty behaviour. All of them get hate, Jimin gets a lot more because he's more relevant and a literal character in the shipping dramas. You can acknowledge that but also be at peace that he gets so much more love. You are possibly biased because your bubble exposes you to the hate a lot. The only constructive thing we gotta do is ensure misinformation doesn't spread, spread positive narratives around Jimin and celebrate him. The rest, it's a you problem. To all these fans who actively go find that one odd comment and quote it with "Oh jimin my heart breaks for you". No, that's just you and your inferiority complex at display. You sought that out. Jimin is fine before and after that comment. Do call out people, do it because they're misrepresenting things. But also do what it takes to give you peace of mind. JM looks happy and calm. Can you not soak it in? What's this urge to bring a hate tweet with 2 likes and then complain about it? If you really wanna do something go to Youtube shorts and TikTok and start representing Jimin in a positive light, make cunty edits of him, scream about his greatness and start building that narrative.

Don't buy the narratives you see, even within the PJM community. Misinformation is so rampant within the BTS fandom, it's insane. If you have been around since 2017-2018, you would be baffled by how many insider jokes and anti narratives have become mainstream and are believed as facts. That clip of JK singing angrily with the story that he had exams the next day, it resurfaces every three weeks. It was literally a viral twitter joke. The Jimin ED narrative, a 100% manufactured one. He has not dieted any more than the rest of the BTS have. It's just been perpetuated thanks to fans who love to project and both groups of shippers, one that thinks of JM as a dainty damsel in distress and the other one that portrays him as insecure. So much BTS lore is just straight up fiction and also a few random sentences in an IV blown up. BTS historically has always spoken in a curated, respectful manner, especially Jimin. He's very diplomatic, he says things in a very mindful, relatable way- even that IV about him finding himself and growing up where he showed a lot of rawness, the language he used was so so beautiful and well thought out. He's not here sharing his deepest darkest thoughts on Lives casually, he does that through his music. Don't let these hit tweets warp your impression of Jimin. Find him through your own eyes and his own words.

There's no need for you to fit a label to Stan him. You can be an ARMY, a PJM, a jimentte, a jimim lover, a BabyJ fan, a casual stan who tunes into his music. You can stan him in any capacity. The fandom isn't a monolith, there's no leaders, there's no handbook for acting like a fan. You just do you. Support Jimin, love him, adore him, send him cute letters and get on with your life. The ring leaders in the ARMY world and PJM world hold zero power and influence over you. They can have 500k followers and it means nothing. You not aligning and agreeing with them means nothing. It's okay if you want a community, it's okay if you don't. This is meant to be an enjoyable experience. The moment it goes beyond, cut yourself free. If you are actually crying because you saw a hate tweet from an account that hates on him full-time, know that you are too deep in. I am not invalidating your emotions, but I am saying that's not how this is supposed to be.

Jimin is a kind, gentle, generous, warm and endlessly talented artist who has time and again proven how passionate and resilient he is. Stanning him is easy and heartwarming. I hope you all get to that point where you enjoy that fully.

[teaguehq]

Thank you, because my think blood always needs your keeping me warm, and even better that I get to be close to you. You know I do think you're a sexy date all the time, and just sexy in general, if I'm honest. I'm excited for the film, so it's easy to draw from it for you, especially when Johnny is so handsome. I'm just happy that I've finished with filming so I can travel around with you for the press, not to mention going to music festivals like Glasto, which was so much fun! Plus you deserve a little fun before all the work, too. I did love you in Warfare, and honestly, I wouldn't know you were from the UK if I didn't know you personally, your American accent is so great, not to mention sexy. It's always nice when you can stay on location with me and we get to explore the city we're in together, since it just makes the memories there all the better for sharing them with you. I definitely want to see all the places that were significant to you as a kid, so we'll absolutely have to travel there once schedules allow. It makes me so grateful that your family likes me and are happy for us. We can definitely go to Universal in Orlando the next time we visit Florida, and a bonus for seeing you act like a little kid! Though I know exactly what you mean when that place just brings out your inner kid so easily. You're so sweet, Joseph, and it just makes me love you all the more, knowing you wanted to share with your family that we love each other. Vegas with you and the incredible room you booked was so much fun, and you're honestly such a romantic. We can go on more romantic getaways even if we'll have to be creative squeezing them in. You love romancing me and it just makes me feel all the more lucky you're in my life, and that I can romance you, too. Cape May was incredible with you too, and I'm so glad we did that while we were in Jersey. Plus did you think it was as romantic as I built it up to be? You don't have to apologize for that, love, when I know it's your job and you have to go where the studios tell you. We always have fun with the travel too! I still can't believe you made me that blanket, which it's so incredibly cozy and easily my all-time favorite gift, hands down. I don't know if having the blanket makes me miss you less when we're away, but it's comforting to wrap up in since it makes me think of you, at least. I can't wait to see which cat Bach bonds with either, and I'm thinking knowing him, he'll automatically choose a cat that's a little chaotic. Or a pup, depending on who he bonds with, though I know we'll both be thrilled he has a partner in crime no matter. I'm still laughing a little at your possibly dying if you play a zookeeper! Like what happens, you accidentally fall into the lion's den? I feel lucky that you wanted to let your guard down so we could have this, and of course I'm glad I didn't let my past disappointments with love get in the way, either. I still can't believe you liked me after meeting me, which I wouldn't have guessed at all at the time. You're making me blush saying I looked handsome that night too, and who knew trying to dress cool to offset the heat would have that effect?! I know what you mean though, since you looked so handsome that night and were so charming, too. And now, I'd love to marry you and certainly want to spend forever with you. I can't help myself, since I'm pretty open with my parents and I feel like I'd have been obvious by how much I talked about you, anyway. It means the world to me you're always happy for my projects, and of course that we're working out being together as much as possible between work.

Knowing the actor you are, I have no doubts you'll be incredible in the Beatles film, and I can't wait to see you guys filming it! In that case, I'll have to tell you even more that I love you, don't you think? Not to mention it makes me smile like crazy every time you say it to me, and I love you so very much, Joseph. I want to spend my life with you too, and it's still so crazy to me that you want to marry me, in a good way, I mean. In that case, it sounds like maybe we should get married in a garden, given how we both feel about them? We'll just have to decide where! Well, I didn't want to be presumptuous about the house, but I also sort of hoped you'd want it to be both of ours. I still can't believe the house you found, mainly all the room! But you're right that it's positively gorgeous, and certainly has enough land for gardening like we plan. Not to mention the Hoe Land still cracks me up about the house, too. A rooftop garden would be so amazing, and think of getting to see the skyline while we garden! Well, I'm glad you said you love me too, for the record, since it's nice being able to tell you exactly how I feel. You say you're slacking in the surprises department, like you didn't just give me a beautiful blanket and also surprise me with Glasto tickets! I think you're doing just fine, in other words. You're doing so well with the mandolin, and I'm so proud of your progress. It's only because I've been playing for years, though you'll be at my level soon enough if you keep up with it! You'll like any gift or surprise? As long as I don't purposely give you a gag gift, right? You're sweet to say you like it because it's from me, though. I think it's a great idea to be in London for next New Year's, since you know all the best places to celebrate it! Sorry, my date was definitely the sexiest one there, hands down. I loved dancing with you and the cooking classes we found in Jersey, especially since we got to add a few new recipes to our cookbook! Cooking with you is always fun too, no question about that. I know you always have so much going on, and as you should with how talented you are. Though it just makes me want to make sure you're always grounded and taken care of, and any way I can help with that, I'd like to. I'm so lucky you want to be on my side and by my side, and of course I couldn't think of a better person that's mutual for. It makes me smile that you feel lucky, and well, my boyfriend is incredible and I think about how lucky I am to be with him every day. Filming for the last bit wasn't bad even though I missed you, of course, and couldn't wait to be back with you. I'm just glad my part in the show is all finished! You always take the best care of me, honestly, and I can't thank you enough for that, whether it's distracting me from dark material, or whisking me away to Vegas! It means a lot to me that you think I'm talented, especially when you're so talented yourself. And as long as I get to do what I'm doing, I don't mind if my costars outshine me, which they typically do. I'm just glad we don't have to reply on weekends anymore, and I can spend as much time with you outside of work that I'd like to. And even better that we don't have to miss each other anymore, right? So I'm hoping that'll be the case for a while, that I can stay here with you and maybe we can plan some more weekend trips when we have the chance! I saw something about part of new Forest that has a castle and a garden, and I thought that might be a fun trip while the weather is nice! Have you been there before? | @josephafq

oh really? so even in warmer weather you're needing me to keep you warm -- i guess since your florida blood is so thin, i'll still keep you warm if you need me to, my love. you make me blush so much, so you must think i'm a sexy date all the time, yeah? i love that you're doing some drawings for me for the fantastic four premiere, gorgeous, and i can't wait to see them. oh, i know that i'll love them because you drew them! it means the world to me that you wanted to be there for me though, you know? and i know things are about to get crazier for me again soon, and having you with me when i can means so much. plus, it makes me smile that you've watched warfare and thought i was brilliant in it, are you like everyone else and think my american accent is sexy in it? i'm happy i was able to stay in new jersey with you while you were filming as much as i could, my love, because being there and getting to explore the city with you was everything to me. he does, he thinks you'll like seeing it, and i spent so much time there as a kid! we'll make plans to go there when both of us have the free time to do it. and my family really does like you, and they're so happy for us. and you already know i can't wait to visit florida again when our schedules allow it, though next time we go to florida, I really want to go to universal in orlando! it's got so much cool stuff, and i feel like i'll behave like a little kid there, yeah? i was so excited that i loved you i couldn't help but tell them -- and even better that you feel the same way about me, gorgeous. i'm glad we're doing vegas this weekend, and hopefully you like the romantic room suite i booked! i want to go on all the romantic weekend getaways with you, my love. i love romancing you as much as possible. and we'll do cape may next weekend. how does that sound? because if it's as romantic as you say, i really want to go there as well. i know going to mexico kind of screwed us up for starting the weekends when we wanted to, which thank you for coming with me for that as well, love, you know that meant a lot. i'm glad that being in a tub with me makes you happy too, and they are pretty relaxing, you're right. well, given how you jumped on me after i gave you the blanket, I think you liked it, right? now you can see the reason why it took me so long, but i really do hope you like it. but you'll be able to cuddle with it while i'm gone, so maybe that'll help you miss me less? i can't wait to see what kind of cat bach connects with, honestly, and even better if it's an orange one! though if he connects with a puppy, i have no problem with getting a dog either, just hoping for a cat! i'm just saying, with my luck in some roles, i'll probably die if i was playing a zookeeper! i hope i at least get eaten by something cool though, but you're right, at least i could say i played one! i'm glad to hear that i make you the happiest you've been, owen, that makes me so happy to hear. and i'm glad that i let my guard down for you, that i didn't let my past get in the way because i can't imagine missing out on something as great as what i have with you. it makes me smile that you liked me and wasn't sure right away it wasn't mutual, especially when i knew the first time we met i liked you. you looked handsome that night, and I thought, "well, i'm going to catch feelings for this guy," and boy was i right. because exactly, now i know you're the man i want to marry and spend forever with. it makes me blush that you told your parents that you love me, and even more so that you talk about me so much! but i love that they're happy for us. and you know i'll do whatever i can to make it work so i can be with you as much as possible, my love, and i'll always be excited for any project you have.

it really is nice -- and you know i'm always going to cheer you on that way, and i know you're always going to be supportive of me! you make me blush when you say you're proud of me, and that you think i'll be so great in the beatles film! it's still surreal to me that i'm going to be a beatle! my heart does flutter every time you tell me you love me, which is why i can't get enough of hearing you say it! and i'm all for us saying it more often for each other, because i love you so much, owen. i can't help but think about getting married to you, because you're everything to me, and i just want to spend my life with you. i love that we're both torn on location, because i wasn't sure if you'd want it in florida on the beach or if you'd be okay with a classy garden somewhere, since you know my obsession with gardens lately. but yeah, an outdoor wedding would be ideal, and can i just say i love that you're just as into gardens as i am? i was nervous about bringing up the house being yours too in london, so i'm really glad you said something, love. and glad you understand my desire for a garden! i found this gorgeous place in the countryside that i want us to go look at when we're able to in london -- the house is a bit big, but the land is breathtaking. and i've been looking at spots in new york as well, and have found a few with rooftop gardens even, which would be neat! i'm still so glad that i said it, because really, hearing you say you love me so much, it'll never get old. i'm glad that you feel safe telling me anything, my love, and you really do. i know that i can say anything to you and you'll listen. i do want to be your valentine forever, so it makes me happy that you want the same thing. i love that you love my surprises so much, and i'll have to think of a new surprise for you soon because i feel like i've been slacking in the surprise department! i do feel like i've gotten the hang of the mandolin and that i play it alright, but not nearly as good as you! i'll always like any gift or surprise that you get me. i hope you know that. because it's from you and that's what makes me happy. i love the idea of us celebrating another new year's in time square one year, because i want to kiss you again there of course! but next year i was thinking we can do london. What do you think? oh is that so? that's hard to believe your date was the sexiest, when mine was and all! i love dancing with you so much, and i loved the places we've found in jersey so far to dance in. and i'm looking forward to the cooking classes we've got planned as well, because i can't wait to cook more with you, my love. it means the world that you want to take care of me, though, and make sure i'm not burning myself out, because i know i have so much going on, and it's about to get crazy again. i love you too, owen, and having you on my side and by my side is everything to me. and i want to be on your side and by your side too, always. i love making you blush, baby, but you know i feel lucky every day that you want to be with me too, right? and that i have such an amazing boyfriend. especially one that loves me like you love me. i'm sad that i wasn't there to take care of you this week, but i hope filming went well without me there, especially since the material is dark. but i'll take good care of you this weekend, make sure you're well rested and relaxed and i'll do whatever you want and give you whatever you need, okay? love, you are a talented actor! and i'm just glad more people are getting to see you in things! i'm still sad that i couldn't stay with you any longer like i wanted to, but at least we have the weekends, and we're going to have a great weekend in vegas! it's just going to be hard to let go when it's time to leave, i'm going to go back to missing you so much again. || @teaguehq

[cringe6fail6star6]

capvincible x stalker!reader who tries to get better (tw:obsessive tendecies, desperate mark, unhealthy relationship)(im writing about stalker bffr obvi its unhealthy)

They fail.

they admit in the passing that they went to therapy to manage their obsessive tendecies and mark feels his heart sink.

Because in his head its like: if my stalker stops being my stalker they wont pay for my stuff and ill be broke again and no one wants to be around broke people(<-projection)

And to reader is: if i get better, i can properly date him(<-chad mentality)

So now mark steals n hides their meds, or outright says if they go to the next therapy session he wont talk to them. And reader has two choices: not go along with manipulation and follow through with their healing but lose contact with mark or go back on their bad habits and keep mark close. And reader cant accept being NOT close to him so they lie to their therapist and say the meds arent helping.

...

Reader, in a good mood: so i started writing down my thoughts and setting them on fire afterwards instead of sending texts at 3 am to u bc i know u need to sleep more and i care for your health.

Mark, thought reader hates him now: either double text me or im killing myself

Reader:...

Reader, taking their phone out to tell their therapist that they cant come in: i just got another idea for a text!

.....

Like, it feeds mark ego to have a sugar daddy that doesnt even ask for sex, just to be around. The fact that those messages about them stealing his clothes and using them to pleasure themselves, or writing his name in their skin, or blackmailing some random that ruined marks evening(bumped into him in a crowd), and sweet messages that they miss him after spending whole day together -> is just a bonus!

And reader whos emotion dictate their actions, their ego thriving on a victim who "reciprocates"(doesnt stop them if not full on enabling) their feelings. Because they CAN afford mark and CAN provide for him AND feed on his happiness -> is just cherry on top for their deal and balm for the ego!

Neither of them are normal. If reader sees mark threaten someone and then backtracks bc of public image of his hero persona, reader doesnt have to backtrack and will keep their loves promise.

Reader would probably work with Machine Head if it lets them see Mark more often when hes acting like a hero. They learned so many new skills and got even more money from working with the mafia that mark is conflicted if he wants to put them in jail or play a good sugar baby and forgive them for a nice present.

Reader is paying both for therapy and mark but since mark knows theyre going to therapy he assumes they arent giving him enough money bc they spent majority on something else. Aka, he got jealous of their therapist. (Obvi reader is paying more to mark +presents +unhinged confessions +affection - but mark doesnt see that)

...

To win reader fully over he introduces them as his partner and now they have to spend all free time together(like it wasnt like this already) to hold the title up. Which reader now has even more reasons to be obsessive and therapist is forgotten to pamper mark.

This little shit sabotaged their healing and reader just cant tell him no

[edwardhartenjoyer]

HAI ANDY!!! im here again w another idea for u. I HOPE THATS OKAY. puts it on a silver platter. i hope ur other projects are going well nd that youre not overwhelmed T0T remember to take breaks !!!!!

idk how much of the most recent episode youve played so i wont put any spoilers but while playing the episode they put the ghouls side by side with one of the general student girls and i was like. Damn. she is so itty bitty!!! shes so tiny!!! (AFFECTIONATE.) nd since im really tall for a lady i was thinkin. Hey how about if mc was as tall or a bit taller than the ghouls ???? what would they think about that???

just some tall lady appreciation really . i think a lot of them would like it (side eyes haru) but i'd like to hear ur ideas for the characters u pick!!! obvi (✿◡‿◡)

thank u for letting me swarm ur inbox w my tsunami of ideas they really just flood my brain nd i gotta get them OUT TT0TT take care of urself <3

HI AUBURN!!! I love your ideas, I will always be happy to get them. My projects are going good! I took a nice long weekend break from writing to just read and finish off a book I'd been reading!

I'm still a few episodes behind TOT I'm currently on the second Mortkranken one. I'm looking forward to episodes 16 and 17. I wanna see slutty Taiga and I wanna see the island bachelors.

TALL LADY APPRECIATION!! I have plenty of ideas already!!

Featuring: Kaito | Haru | Ritsu

Kaito Fuji - You were walking through frostheim with your boyfriend Kaito. He was holding your hand and chatting about how boring his classes were, especially the ones without you in them. As you were walking along, though, you noticed a couple of general students watching the two of you and caught some of their whispers.

"What does she see in him?"

"I know right? Like girl, you could do so much better."

"He looks ridiculous next to her, i mean, he's already so scared of everything. Now he needs a taller girl to do things for him?"

The general students laughed among themselves at this and you weren't going to let them slander him like that! You let go of his hand to storm over to them.

"Hey! Where the hell do you get off mocking my boyfriend?! I think he's perfect, and I love him, and he most definitely does not need me to do things for him." You huffed, glaring down the offending girls. They all froze and stared at you before scoffing and hurrying away.

"MC?" You turned to see a teary eyed Kaito standing behind you. "YOU REALLY LOVE ME??!!" He sobbed.

"Course, I love you." You replied immediately, pulling him into a hug. "I'm sorry those stupid girls insulted you."

He melted into his hug with you. "They're dumb anyway. They've got nothing on you, you're like a literal goddess."

Haru Sagara - Haru had already fallen for you just based on who you were. He didn't care that you were taller than him. He totally didn't find it incredibly hot the moment he laid eyes on you.

The moment you started using your taller height to organize his gadgets on the shelves better for him, though, he fell even harder.

"Hey MC? Do you think you could get my newest gadget down for me? You seemed to have put it up too high for me~" Haru pleaded, and you turned from your work chopping vegetables to see what he needed.

You eyed him suspiciously. You knew very well he could easily get what he wanted off the shelf, but you played his game and walked over, feeling his eyes on you the whole time.

"If I didn't know better I'd say you just like the view of my ass while I lean up to get stuff" you teased, handing him the item.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He grinned.

You rolled your eyes and leaned in to kiss his cheek. He beamed at you even more "Love you MC~"

"Pfft, love you too Haru."

Ritsu Shinjo - Ritsu didn't notice you being taller than him at first. It just wasn't something he gave much attention to, short or tall, so long as you were a good business partner that's all he cared for.

You overheard someone commenting on it once, how it must be awkward for the young lawyer to be shorter than his girlfriend. It made you wonder, so you voiced your concern to him.

"Hey Ritsu, does it bother you that I'm taller than you?" You asked one day while studying with him.

"Why should it bother me? It's in your genetics to be a pre-determined height. It is not something you can control. Does it bother you that I still protect you from danger even though I'm not your height?" He asked. You quickly shook your head.

"Of course not. That'd be a stupid thing to be upset over." You replied before it hit you. "Oh, okay, point taken."

He smiled at you and took your hand. "You are perfect in my eyes, regardless of however you appear."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tag list: @ventisimpilysm

Wanna be added or removed? Let me know!

[cocoa-dile]

Platonic! Sebek x Reader - Deskmates

Warnings / Notes: gn! reader, reader is Yuu / MC, all just fluff, potentially OOC but we're working on it (and hopefully getting better at writing closer to canon!), takes place before Book 7, written just for fun and probably a bit inaccurate and worded a bit weirdly in some spots, format might be weird? - bullet points + some paragraphs, not really headcanons or a oneshot I don't think?, not proofread or really edited

I know people (unfortunately) don't really like Sebek much but I hope those who do appreciate this post <3

Requests and feedback are absolutely welcome! You can share either in the notes or through the "requests" button on my profile (which you can also use for feedback if you're shy :)) Please read through the request rules in my pinned post before submitting anything!

Story / Bullet Points Located Under the Cut!

Sitting next to Sebek during class is certainly not for the weak, especially when the two of you aren't very close

Don't even get me started on the dreaded group projects

Will insist that you fix your posture, fix your tie, etc. - you need to be putting in more effort and discipline, after all!

He'll become very focused when writing in his notebook (actual notes? doodles? a diary entry? perhaps writing a story of his own? who knows) and has broken his pen before, and will not ask you or someone else near you for a new pen

You have to offer one for him to use, and there will be no hints given as to what he was so ingrained in on the pages (unless you sneak a peak yourself)

Sebek will try to be friendly after borrowing your pen and a bit of prodding from Lilia and Silver, but it probably doesn't go very well until you start getting used to his unique way of approaching socializing

To be clear, Sebek has heard of you and your ragtag group of friends before - even if he would never admit it, he does in a way admire that a handful of other freshmen and a magicless human are able to handle Housewardens overblotting (as well as the vast array of whatever Crowley has thrown at you)

It definitely encourages him to train even harder; he still feels like he needs to catch up with everyone else because his magic came in rather late and the people he's close to are already "ahead" of him

He would very much prefer if you all could carry yourselves with a bit more decorum, particularly around Malleus

He's not aware of your late night rendezvous with his liege yet

However, it feels like you've thrown him a lifeline after he had a particularly pushy conversation with Lilia about how he needs to be more social with his fellow freshmen and he sees you reading one of his favorite books that you found in the library

"Human! What book is that you're reading there?" He bellows, his face scrunched up with his typical eyebrow furrow and deep frown.

"A book I found in the library," you responded, not bothering to look up from the books pages, more used to his loud behavior now than you were earlier in the year.

"I rather enjoyed that one, you know. Phillip was a worthy knight!" Sebek announced, finally pulling out his chair and sitting down at his desk. "How far along are you?"

"Still pretty early in, only around chapter 3." You didn't seem very interested in having a conversation with him, so he awkwardly tried to end it.

"I see. I won't spoil you for the later parts of the book, then." Surely Lilia will be impressed with how well I handled approaching them! Sebek smirked to himself as he began preparing his materials for class to start.

Following this conversation, you decided to talk with Sebek about the book when you had finished it, and were pleasantly surprised by his analysis of the characters and themes

Seeing that he was so passionate about it, you decided to ask him for book recommendations so you could talk more with him when he isn't being as uptight as he usually is

One day, however, you brought him your favorite book instead, complete with annotations and notes

Though he would never admit it, he sat down to read the book you had given him as soon as he had the time to, and got through it in one night

He's torn between giving it back to you immediately and waiting a few days so you wouldn't know how excited he was to read it

Discussing books and even exchanging them becomes commonplace between the two of you, and you'll often try new types of tea while talking too

You even start defending his name when Ace or Deuce complain about him

Trying to get him to join you and your friend group for sleepovers, movie nights, study time, etc. probably won't work for a while

Sebek is willing to spend a small amount of time with you over books or in class, but taking any more time away from his duties to his young master is irresponsible, and quite frankly, not a pleasant idea

Speaking of "in class" - if partners for projects are left up to choice of the students, you always step up to ask Sebek first because you know nobody else will

There was one time you watched as he glanced around the room, and there was something uniquely pathetic as he seemingly deflated when no one even bothered looking in his direction. After that, if a partner is mandatory, you always ask

If Sebek can, he definitely wants to work by himself, but if there's truly no other option, he'll join your group

He prefers being the one in charge, however, especially if he believes that he's more educated on the topic or will do it better than you/other group members

As can be seen throughout the game, Sebek enjoys praise and people watching or seeing his accomplishments. So if he's ever being difficult, perhaps throw in a few kind words and watch as he puffs out his chest with pride

Over time, Sebek does grow fond of you - not terribly so, just a little! You know the truth however, and "just a little" is not the case

Encourages you to be safer during alchemy, and will offer you help with studying

"I'm not surprised that a human like you isn't aware of the proper way to go through these formulas. Here, let me show you! Be sure to pay attention!"

He's fine with sitting next to you, but sitting next to Grim is enough to get him riled up

He will glare and constantly remind either just Grim or the both of you to be quiet during class so students like him can focus

He will get dramatic as hell about expecting praise from you when he does something exceptionally well (he also expects you to be one of the first in the class to tell him happy birthday if you don't see him earlier in the day)

But don't whisper over to him in the middle of class - he'll respond very loudly and get in trouble with Trein or Crewel

Especially if you're trying to tell him that you were impressed with his answer, or that he's intelligent. He responds immediately with an, "Of course, human" and it makes all of the other students in class turn to look at you

★ I don't think I'm as fond of how this one came out, but hopefully there's been some improvement. If you have any more Sebek ideas you should let me know so I can practice more (I haven't seen nearly enough Sebek fanfic in comparison to the other characters) :) ★