#part of it is def the severe dry eyes and i think i did start reacting to the preservatives in eyedrops

[songofsaraneth]

sleeping or otherwise staying in bed for 11+ hours a night right now and STILL feeling exhausted by mid afternoon and idk what’s going on here but i’m shoveling vitamins down my throat and trying 5 diff eyedrops brands to fix it and failing

[smilingformoney]

This scene in CoS has bothered me for ages (it's long af for context):

"[Mrs Norris is found Petrified] Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In seconds, he had swept past Harry, Ron and Hermione and detached Mrs Norris from the torch bracket.

'Come with me, Argus,' he said to Filch. You too, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger.'

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly. 'My office is nearest, Headmaster - just upstairs - please feel free.'

'Thank you, Gilderoy,' said Dumbledore. The silent crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall and Snape.

As they entered Lockhart's darkened office there was a flurry of movement across the walls; Harry saw several of the Lockharts in the pictures dodging out of sight, their hair in rollers. The real Lockhart lit the candles on his desk and stood back. Dumbledore laid Mrs Norris on the polished surface and began to examine her. Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged tense looks and sank into chairs outside the pool of candlelight, watching.

The tip of Dumbledore's long, crooked nose was barely an inch from Mrs Norris's fur. He was looking at her closely through his half-moon spectacles, his long fingers gently prodding and poking, Professor McGonagall was bent almost as close, her eyes narrowed. Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow, wearing a most peculiar expression: it was as though he was trying hard not to smile. And Lockhart was hovering around all of them, making suggestions.

'It was definitely a curse that killed her probably the Transmogrifian Torture. I've seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn't there, I know the very counter-curse that would have saved her...'

Lockhart's comments were punctuated by Filch's dry, racking sobs. He was slumped in a chair by the desk, unable to look at Mrs Norris, his face in his hands. Much as he detested Filch, Harry couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for him, though not nearly as sorry as he felt for himself. If Dumbledore believed Filch, he would be expelled for sure."

(CoS, The Writing on the Wall)

What do you make of this? I don't get why he's suppressing a smile?

I've read that he finds the situation funny but that doesn't seem likely, then that he's laughing at Lockhart but so far, he hasn't said anything. Someone said that he knows what will follow (the Chamber is opened) and likes the idea of a purged Hogwarts but that's just plain wrong. Others have suggested that this is only a red herring, which I find an unsatisfactory explanation because it is surely meant to look as if Snape approves of the opening of the CoS but something else has to be the reason for his smile then (as is the definition of a red herring). The only theory I find mildly believable is that Snape thinks he can get Harry expelled now after he wasn't expelled at the start of term despite his serious misdemeanor.

Which would then bring me to the question: If Snape wants to keep Harry safe, why would he want him expelled? That would render him incapable of defending himself.

Sorry if this is too much, you're just good at Snape-meta so I thought I'd ask you. This has been annoying me for ages. Thanks in advance :))

Honestly I think he’s laughing at Lockhart because Snape’s bullshit detector is going off like crazy. Man almost certainly knows the different between a dead cat and a petrified one, like it’s as different as day and night to him, and here’s Lockhart spouting bs about being soooo sure what killed her when she ain’t even dead. Lockhart is probably hilarious to him, I can def imagine Snape in the staff room, asking Lockhart questions about DADA and laughing internally as Lockhart spouts more and more bullshit.

[rkived]

year 22 (m) — jjk

‘‘I knew you’d be standing in my front porch light, and I knew you’d come back to me.’‘ 

Pairing: childhoodfriend!jk x f!reader 

Genre/Tags: angst!!!, drama, a lil fluff, f2l, e2l-ish, pining, slow burn, smut

Rating: M +18

WC: 11.5k

Warnings: time jumps, underage drinking, jk being a douchebag for most of the fic, reader can’t catch a mf break, mention of character death ((no major one tho)). smut in the form of oral (f. receiving), fingering, nipple play, unprotected sex ((wrap it b4 u tap it y’all)), my being called pretty kink making a brief appearance soz

A/N: i listened to cardigan for the first time n had it on replay the whole time i wrote this so ig u should do it too ! this is my first time posting smut on here but who would i be if i didn’t throw in some good angst ? also tysm to @periminkle​ for being my unofficial beta reader n checking it up for me, she knows i’m constantly looking for her validation n i def wouldn’t post this if she didn’t love it ilu vira thx for being the best ever mwah !!! 

You’re five, cowering behind his mother’s legs, sniffing as tears stream down your face. In front of you both stands Jungkook, there’s remorse written all over his face as his mother stares him down with hands on her hips and a look that just screams that this is only the beginning of his punishment. 

‘’Apologize to Y/N right now Jungkook, or I’ll have your father have a word with you,’’ she threatens with a stern tone, making her son quickly shake his head no. ‘‘You need to learn how to share your toys.’’ 

You peek behind her lanky leg and find the slightly older kid looking at you with narrowed eyes, ‘‘I’m sorry, Y/N.’’ He apologizes with a bow, but he’s obviously displeased with the whole ordeal. 

His mother sighs and Jungkook pouts at the look on her face. She urges you to come out from your not-so-secret hiding spot and to go back to playing with him, even though you seriously doubt that will do any good to what just happened. 

Jungkook’s bedroom door is kept open as he sits back down on his city patterned carpet, you twiddle with your thumbs and stare at the Spiderman poster on his wall. There’s an awkward silence between you two until you feel a toy bump your crisscrossed legs. 

It’s the shiny red car he had refused to lend you before, provoking an argument between you two which eventually made you run out of his room in tears as you ratted him out to his mom. 

‘‘Wooow,’’ you whisper in awe, taking the car in your hands with so much care, treating it like it’s one of your newest dolls. 

Jungkook huffs, crossing his arms as he looks at you with distaste and he’s forced to settle with other boring toys as you giggle to yourself, making the car follow the carpet’s tracks. He learns then to never trust his mother again. If she ever says she’ll bring a new friend for him to play with again, he’ll refuse wholeheartedly.

He doesn’t like sharing his toys, and it’ll probably take him a long time to learn how to.

You’re nine as you hand Jungkook one of the multiple Valentine’s Day cards you carefully crafted the night before with your mother, adding all kinds of pretty stickers and shiny glitter to make each one of them unique. His is different from the rest, though. 

You added hearts to the dots in the I’s, there’s a hint of your favorite body splash enveloping the pink construction paper and it fills Jungkook’s nostrils with so much force that he feels he could gag at the smell. 

‘‘What do you think?’’ You ask the fourth-grader with a big smile on your face, cheeks tinted with a light shade of red as you see him reading the little message you wrote inside the card.

Jungkook lets out a mocking chuckle, ‘‘Are you serious? You like me?’’ He asks you, but it doesn’t look like he’s looking for answers. Your smile slowly fades away, looking at him with glossy eyes, ‘‘I don’t like you, you’re just a dumb little girl.’’ 

His card was the one you had invested the most time in and yet it only took him a second to crumple it with his hand, and another five for him to toss it into the trash can near you before he goes back to his group of friends in the school’s playground.

You learn how to hold your tears in then, thinking it’s a great accomplishment and that maybe now he’ll stop calling you a crybaby.

His friends receive him with high-fives and he smiles with gratefulness because they just saw how much of a badass he can be. Once recess is over and everyone’s going back to their classrooms, Jungkook nears the garbage bin where he had thrown the Valentine's card in, but finds it’s now dirty with yogurt someone tossed inside. 

He grimaces at the sight and sighs, there’s no way he can save it now.

You’re twelve and you’re the only girl in the treehouse who hasn’t gone through puberty yet. It wasn’t something that bothered you until just recently, when it became pretty evident why none of the boys would even give you a onceover compared to the other girls.

“I don’t know if I want to play,” you mumble after Kim Jihyo suggests playing spin the bottle. You’re the only one who opposes the idea, though you could count Jungkook in given as he just sat there without saying a word.

Park Yerim rolls her eyes, “You’re so boring, Y/N!” The comment makes the rest giggle as you pout at being the designated party pooper. 

It’s all fun and games of truth and dares to whoever the bottle lands on and you’ve been lucky enough to avoid the tip of the plastic Coca-Cola bottle to point at you, until it lands on Jungkook who has done a few funny dares so far.

“Alright, Jungkook, let’s make things even more fun!” Jihyo announces since she’s been the one who has assigned most of the embarrassing challenges and questions, “I dare you to kiss one of the girls here for ten seconds.” 

The dare makes the boys cheer with excitement and the girls gasp with anticipation, hoping one of them is the lucky chosen one. Your lips part slightly as you stare at him sitting across from you, he’s clearly not comfortable with the dare, but knowing him, he won’t express his current discomfort. 

His eyes land on you as you stare back at him with concern, hoping that he’ll speak up to avoid himself the embarrassment. Has he even kissed someone before? If this is his first kiss, you’ll witness it alongside everyone else and you can only imagine how terrifying that must be. Even though Jungkook’s always been a brave kid, you can always tell when he feels under pressure.

“Uhm, I’ll uh—“ Jungkook keeps staring at you and you feel your heart start to beat like you just ran the usual ten laps around the gym in P.E class. Are you about to have your first kiss? With him? 

You nod your head absentmindedly, a sign to let him know it’s okay for him to pick you from all the other developed girls who probably have more experience kissing than you do, but it’s okay because you’ve always been a quick learner. 

“Yeji,” Jungkook says after what feels like forever, though it’s only been a mere few seconds, “I’ll kiss Yeji.” He adds, removing his eyes from yours and settling them on the girl with the high ponytail and pink colored nails. 

You bite your bottom lip hard, breaking the dry skin as you feel yourself taste blood. It doesn’t matter because no one’s paying attention to you and instead they’re focused on Jungkook’s neverending kiss with Yeji. 

When you get home that night, you look at yourself in the mirror and frown at your lack of everything. Is this the reason as to why he hadn’t picked you? 

You’re fourteen and Kim Taehyung just sent you a message through MSN in which he confesses to have feelings for you. Your eyes widen, rereading the message several times, rubbing at your eyes just to make sure you’re seeing things correctly. 

You run off across the street to Jungkook’s house, ringing the doorbell quickly for someone to open up. You’re greeted by him looking at you with an annoyed expression, he had to pause his GTA game to come and open the door. 

“What do you want?” Jungkook asks harshly, crossing his arms as he stares into somewhere that’s not your face. He’s anxiously waiting for you to spit out whatever it is you’re there to say. 

You calm yourself down by breathing in deep and out, blowing the air right at him, “Does Taehyung like me?” You ask him, making Jungkook’s eyes widen in surprise and his brows to raise. 

His reaction tells you that you might’ve just discovered a secret you weren’t supposed to and it only makes your heart beat even faster because if it’s true, then this is a pleasant surprise. Kim Taehyung is one of the hottest boys in the tenth grade and he happens to be one of Jungkook’s closest friends. You think he must know something since you see them hanging out at lunch.

“Uh—I don’t know, Y/N.” Jungkook mumbles, rubbing at the back of his neck, finally looking at you and he feels a gut wrenching punch in his stomach at the sight. “Taehyung isn’t a really good guy, you shouldn’t—“ 

“What are you saying?” You interrupt him with a question, confused as to why Jungkook was painting a negative picture of his friend. “He was really sweet with what he said, he thinks my eyes are pretty when they sparkle — I didn’t even know they did that!” 

Jungkook grimaces and sighs, there’s really not much he can do here. You’ve always been so stubborn, so relentless. No matter how many times life tries to tell you something’s not meant for you, you challenge each and every one of it’s obstacles until you take what’s yours. 

“Okay, then what are you gonna do? Date him? You haven’t even had your first kiss yet.” Jungkook reminds you with a mocking tone and you furrow your brows together because, how does he know that? 

You stammer, “I-I have! I had it at camp last summer, actually!” That’s a lie, but he wasn’t there so he can’t prove the veracity of your statement. “And what do you care? So what if I want to date him?” You add with anger, not understanding why couldn’t he just support you in search of true love. 

The thought of dating Kim Taehyung had never crossed your mind, thinking he was way too out of your league for him to ever notice you. But that confession sitting in your MSN chat now served as a nice feeling of knowing you aren’t as invisible as you think you are. 

Jungkook scoffs, “Taehyung would never date you, okay? He’s older than you, he’s cool, he goes to parties and has kissed almost every girl in his grade, do you think he’d really like someone as boring as you?” He doesn’t mean to be so harsh, but you’re just so difficult and impossible to get through.

Jungkook’s used to the trembling bottom lip and the teary eyes that you give him everytime he says something that definitely strikes a nerve within you, but he’s always impressed on how you always refrain from crying in front of him. Last time you did that you were both kids and he probably took the last lollipop from your batch of collected halloween candy. 

“Screw you, Jungkook,” you say through gritted teeth, and if looks could kill, he’d be dead already. 

He looks at you quickly stomp your way back to your house, only heading back inside once you slam your front door shut. Jungkook enters his room to find two new messages in his MSN.

$$ kIm tAaEhyYyuNG $$: it worked! 

$$ kIm tAeEhyYyunGG $$: she fell for it xDxD where did u even come up with the sparkly eyes thing?? that’s gold bro rofl 

Jungkook sighs, ignoring the messages and shutting his computer down.

You’re sixteen and you’ve been invited to your first party. Granted, it was Jungkook’s, but he knew that if he didn’t ask you to come you’d probably tell on him with his mom. No matter what age he was, he’d always fear his mother’s scolding. 

“Drink this!” Park Jimin says with his beautiful smile and you’re starting to realize why they gave him that very same superlative on the school’s yearbook. You take the red solo cup without any second thought, placing the rim straight to your lips and choke once you feel the liquid burn your throat. 

“Ugh—What’s this?” You ask, cleaning the droplets of liquid around the corners of your mouth. 

He chuckles, “Fruit punch!” The liquid is indeed red like the familiar drink you’re used to, but there’s definitely something else mixed inside. “Oh, and vodka,” he adds with wiggly eyebrows as he shows off the small flask he was hiding in his sweatshirt’s front pocket.

You gasp and hand him the cup back, “No, I don’t drink alcohol, sorry.” Jimin rolls his eyes and it reminds you of the many times you’ve received this same reaction from your classmates before. Always a party pooper. He’s about to take the plastic red cup from you until you quickly drink the spiked punch in one go.

The boy howls in excitement, “Woo, go Y/N! Another one coming right up.” 

Jungkook knows he should be making sure everything’s alright downstairs. If his mother notices there’s at least one misplaced object, she’ll know right away something went down in her house while her husband and her were away for the weekend on an emergency trip to their hometown. Leaving him unsupervised only because they both believed their son was old enough to tend for himself.

But Jung Eunha had dragged him into his room with the excuse of wanting to see what it looked like, but the mini tour had turned into them kissing on his bed and Jungkook is thankful he changed his Spiderman sheets in exchange for some boring plain grey ones. Eunha smells like fresh mint and Jungkook is way into his head to focus on properly kissing her.

It’s not until his bedroom door is abruptly open, slamming against the wall that Jungkook literally jumps to his feet, making Eunha gasp as they both look at the person who has interrupted their awkward makeout session. 

“Guk-ah, what are you doin’?” You curiously wonder, a hiccup following right after which makes you giggle. Jungkook’s chest rises and falls with quickness as he notices you look different from the last time he saw you twenty minutes ago when you were talking to Jimin. “Guk-ah, were you—you kissin’ Eunha?” You ask once more after not receiving an answer to your previous question.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks in concern, coming closer to analyze your weird state. You stretch your arm out to avoid him from nearing you, making him falter in his place as he studies your expression. 

You hum, “Guk-ah, you busy. Sorry,” you apologize in a shy tone, ready to head back down and have more of that fruity alcohol punch you now found tasty, but you stumble and only avoid yourself from falling by holding onto Jungkook's door frame, he’s already reaching out by then. 

“Are you fucking serious, Y/N? Get out!” Eunha complains with irritation, getting up from the bed and ready to kick you out of his room, but his free arm stops her from getting near you. “Whu—?”

“Eunha, go back down. I’ll deal with her myself.” Jungkook says as calmly as he can, thinking three’s a crowd and dealing with you wasn’t an easy thing in of itself. She’s about to argue, but he interrupts her again, “Go down, now.” 

She rolls her eyes and bumps her shoulder against yours harshly once she steps out of his room, “Whatever, that kiss was shitty anyway.” 

He pretends he didn’t hear that and takes you in his arms instead, dragging you to lay on his bed as you cuddle into his favorite pillow and hug it close to your body. How much did you drink? Why did you even do it in the first place? Jungkook knows you’ve never tried alcohol before, which means he’ll be in big trouble if you show up back to your house like this. 

When you open your eyes hours later, your head hurts and it feels lightweight when you move it side to side. The room you’re in is familiar, that spiderman poster is still hung on the wall, but there are no more toys laying around the floor; they’ve probably been stored somewhere in his garage or sent off to a donation center under his mother’s demand.

The pillow that you’re hugging smells just like him and any other day you’d hold on to it tighter and inhale his scent like your life depended on it, but you abruptly sit on the bed as you’re reminded of how you got here. The action is not appreciated by your dizzy head, but you look around the room to notice how dark it is and there’s no more music playing downstairs. 

You quickly jump to the ground, only to hear a “Fuck, ouch!” from below, stepping on Jungkook’s leg unintentionally. It makes you gasp, looking down to notice the older friend laying on the cold floor, having gotten rid of that childhood carpet of his. His head’s laying on a makeshift pillow made out of a towel and he’s trying hard not to shiver. 

“I’m sorry, sorry, sorry!” You quickly apologize, stepping away from his figure as he soothes the shin of his leg you stepped on. “Jungkook, what happened?” 

He sighs, “Someone decided to drink like five cups of spiked punch knowing damn well it was their first time drinking alcohol, stepped into my room like a crazy person, and then crashed on my bed like they—What’s with the face?”

“Bathroom.”

Jungkook grimaces while he holds your hair back, you’re throwing away all the liquid you had taken with a few additional snacks you had munched on earlier, “Are you done?” He asks in a tired mumble and you shake your head no.

He feels guilty that you’re in this position. He didn’t even want to kiss Eunha, but she was one of the most popular girls in his grade and he knew that if he turned her down she would most likely put a bad word in with the rest of the girls and the guys would make fun of him for being such a wuss.

That would’ve been better, because after laying you down on his bed he had to go down and tell everyone that the party was over, putting an excuse that the neighbors had warned him and threatened to call the cops. They all cleared pretty quickly, but he knew he was going to be the butt of the jokes come Monday. He even had to call your parents to let them know you had gone home to a friend’s house for a sleepover, which he knew wasn’t totally believable, but it had somehow gotten them convinced that their daughter was alright because they trusted Jungkook to never hurt you ever. 

Once you feel like you’ve puked your stomach out, Jungkook hands you a pill accompanied with a glass of water and hands you clothes of his that might be more comfortable to sleep in. 

“Good night, Jungkook,” you whisper once you’re laying back on his bed, still hugging the pillow he preferred to sleep with. He makes a sacrifice to make it up to you. 

His back is going to hurt by the time the sun comes out in a few hours, but it’s okay if it means you’ll sleep comfortably after the events of tonight. “Good night, Y/N.” 

He’s unable to sleep, but finds entertainment in your hanging hand beside his bed. The skin on your palm looks soft and there’s this strange urge inside of him that makes him want to grab your hand in his, but he refrains. 

To calm the current chaos in his head, Jungkook finds peace in the light snores coming from his bed.

You’re just about to turn eighteen and your date to the prom is Jeong Jaehyun, who had only asked you out a day before the event because the girl he had initially wanted to take had been asked and he didn’t have a plan B. 

Jaehyun is okay, at least he managed to get you a corsage that matched the color of your dress. He even smiles in the pictures your parents take of you both as you awkwardly try to look comfortable with his arms around you even though by then you had only exchanged a few sentences. 

The prom’s theme is Summer Nights and you think it’s fitting considering this is the very last event before the graduation ceremony, meaning that you’d most likely never see most of these people ever again. You had purposely applied to a college that was outside of your hometown for that same reason. You’re ready to live the life you’ve always wanted to live, without anyone judging or knowing you. 

Your date spends most of the night talking with his group of friends as you’re left alone on your table, looking at your well manicured nails. You knew you weren’t going to get the same prom experience the high school kids on T.V enjoyed, but you at least hoped it would’ve been a little more fun than this.

A tap on your shoulder makes you turn around to see Jungkook trying to loosen the tight tie around his neck. He looks incredibly handsome and you suppose his mother helped him pick the suit out, Jungkook rarely ever wore fitted clothing, so this is one of those once in a lifetime moments..

“Hey you,” you say and he gives you half a smile, wondering why you’re sitting by yourself at an empty table when everyone else was either mingling or dancing. “Where’s your date?” You ask with curiosity, you’re surprised that Jinsoul isn’t trailing alongside him given how she had behaved for the past week ever since he asked her to come with him. 

“Retouching her face or something,” he answers casually, “what are you doing sitting here? Where’s Jaehyun?” Jungkook asks.

You shrug your shoulders, “Don’t know, probably talking with the guys of the basketball team. He’s been gone for a while.” Not like you care, anyway. If your conversation with him inside his car on the way to the venue had been any indication of what it would’ve been like for the rest of the night, you’re glad he's not here trying to make any more small talk with you.

Jungkook huffs, thinking he’ll kick his ass if he sees him. He had asked him to invite you so you wouldn’t come alone, and yet here you are, sitting all by yourself while the douchebag’s making a social life somewhere in the crowd. He calms down once he notices how unbothered you are by it, though. You’re a big girl now, you’ve been through too much to be affected by something as simple as this.

“Is there something you wan—“

“Dance!” You interrupt with excitement and Jungkook chuckles.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted something to drink, but—alright, let’s dance.” Jungkook can’t dance for shit, but you took lessons when you were younger and he can still remember how you’d always show him the routines you learned in class. He’d always boo you, but in reality you were pretty good. He wonders why you stopped, he doesn’t recall you ever telling him.

It’s just his luck that once you both step into the dancefloor, the hired DJ stops the up-tempo song playing before and switches to a much slower romantic one, “Alright everyone, I want all the couples on the dancefloor for this one.” 

You step away from him with nervousness, it’s couples only after all. But Jungkook holds onto your lower back firmly, pulling you closer into his space. Your eyebrows raise as your lips part, “Uh, s-should we, uh—?” 

“It’s just a song, Y/N. You wanted to dance, then we’ll dance.” He tells you with such confidence it makes you feel like this is totally normal and something all friends do. All the known High School couples are dancing together, heads tenderly placed over chests and chins resting lovingly above them. You wait for Jungkook to take the lead because you have no clue of what you should be doing, you might’ve taken dance lessons years ago but you’ve never slowed danced in your life. 

Jungkook places his hand on your hip, the touch makes goosebumps crawl in your arms. He pretends he doesn’t notice it as he takes your right hand in his. You stare at the way he delicately holds it like it’s his mother’s fine china. “Place your other hand on my shoulder,” he instructs and you do as asked, your palm coming to rest on the strong muscle. 

He’s only slowed danced once before at a family member’s wedding where his mother taught him how to, with her as the teacher. Back then he thought it was incredibly ridiculous, but now he’s sort of glad that happened because he’s the teacher now and you’re now looking at him with your big eyes as you sway alongside him. 

You clear your throat, “This isn’t that hard.” Jungkook nods as he stares down at you, noticing how uneasy you are given that you’re looking at everything and not entirely immersed in the moment.

“You look beautiful tonight.” He says out of nowhere, making you look at him like a deer stuck in headlights, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He had never called you that before. 

An awkward laugh escapes your lips, looking away from his intense gaze as you try not to take his words too literally, “Ha ha, that was a good one.” To you there’s no other explanation than this being one of his mean pranks on you.

But Jungkook doesn’t falter both his words and gaze, “I’m not laughing.” There’s seriousness in his voice and you have to look back at him again just to make sure he really isn’t, “You look beautiful, just take the compliment.” You nod and there’s silence between you two after that. You’re digesting the romantic lyrics that the singer is talking about and hope that the song ends soon, because you’ve never been this close to him and it’s starting to feel too crowded.

You clear your throat, “So…” 

“So…,” he repeats. 

“What are you doing for summer?” You ask him in an attempt to break the tension and wanting to take advantage of the little intimate moment since Jungkook rarely ever lets you pry into his private life. 

“I think I’ll train before heading off,” he answers. It was more than obvious he was going to earn that sports scholarship he had been aiming for, he was one of the best athletes on the school; though you considered him to be the number one between them all. “I’m kinda scared, not gonna lie.” 

You look at him with surprise, tilting your head to the side, “You’re scared?” You ask in disbelief because as long as you’ve known him, he’s never been scared of anything. This is the same kid who instilled your fear of monsters in a closet after watching Monster’s Inc. together, also the same kid who helped you get over it after he realized you had actually taken it seriously.

He chuckles lightly, “Yeah, I’m just scared about starting over.” It’s interesting how his biggest fear is the one you’re looking forward to the most, but you suppose it’s fitting for someone who has never had to worry about what people think of him. In this town, Jungkook has swam freely without any concerns. Out there, he’s just another fish in the big and scary ocean. “Aren’t you?” He questions, hoping that you’re able to relate to what he’s feeling. 

“Honestly, I—“ 

You’re interrupted by Jaehyun clearing his voice in front of you two, making you both turn your heads towards his direction. You quickly separate from Jungkook and he feels his body lose the warmness you were providing. 

“If you wanted to dance, you could’ve just asked. I’m your date after all.” He says smugly and you chuckle awkwardly, nodding because he’s right. 

Jungkook wants to punch his stupid face, how dare he interrupt you both when he had been ignoring you the whole night? Why does he suddenly want to dance with you when he’s probably still upset at him for asking Jinsoul to the prom before he could?

“Your date’s looking for you, buddy. She doesn’t look too happy.” Jaehyun adds with a smirk as he takes your hand in his and drags you away from Jungkook towards another place on the dancefloor. 

He’s left to stare at the way he holds your hand, and he only hopes he’s doing it ever so carefully. 

You’re twenty when Jungkook sees you for the first time since you both left for college two and half a years ago. He’s rendered speechless when he spots you in the crowd, there’s a manly hand around your waist as you giggle into the stranger’s mouth before placing a kiss to his lips. 

There’s only so much social media can provide him, pictures and stories aren’t enough for Jungkook to keep up with you. He thinks you’ve changed, not only appearance wise but you seem way more outgoing, carefree, and happy. Did he miss the boyfriend announcement picture? He’s sure he didn’t, he checks your profile almost every day and he’s never even seen him in any of your stories. 

A gasp escapes your lips once you spot him, completely forgetting about the possibility of bumping into him given that both your schools were playing against each other that night. You tell Namjoon you’ll be right back and he nods, going back to a conversation with the group of college friends you had made. 

You surprise him by jumping into him, arms around his shoulders as you hug him from behind. You let out a shrill of excitement and he blushes as his friends chuckle at the unexpected approach from this unfamiliar girl. 

‘‘Jungkook! You didn’t tell me you’d be here,’’ you say once he turns around to face you and he’s able to see you better upfront. You look beautiful and he thinks the Instagram pictures are not doing you enough justice. You’re glowing, and it has nothing to do with the highlighter you applied on your face and collarbone area. 

The both of you aren’t able to properly talk until you suggest moving to a different area, Jungkook apologizing to his friends as he explained he needed to catch up with an old friend. They don’t complain and instead shoot him teasing looks and small pervy comments that go by unnoticed to you. 

Jungkook listens with intent to your ramble about what you’ve been up to. From your courses, to your roommates, the parties you’ve attended, and even the fact that you handle your alcohol better now. He’s happy that you seem so too, but it irks him that you hadn’t been capable of telling him that you had a boyfriend now. Is there a reason as to why you omitted that important piece of information? 

‘‘And what about you? How’s college?’’ You ask with curiosity. 

He blinks a few times, realizing you had stopped talking about yourself and was now wondering about him instead. ‘‘It’s fine,’’ he answers with a tight lipped smile, the lack of detail compared to you was astonishing, but even though you were still hungry for more you decided not to pry any further. 

There’s fear in revealing that he’s been having a hard time catching up with the rest of his peers. College was indeed fine, but it could be better. He’s settled with the idea that this is as good at it’ll get, some things just aren’t like you expect them to be. At least you’re happy, and that fact brings him comfort. 

‘‘Was that your, uhm─boyfriend?’’ He finally asks after a while, both about to head back to your respective group of friends. 

The question takes you by surprise, looking at him with raised eyebrows and mouth agape. ‘‘Who? Namjoon?’’ He nods, though he doesn’t know anything about the guy he had first seen you with. You let out a wholehearted laugh, ‘‘Hell no, too many commitment issues with that one,’’ you answer and Jungkook’s forehead creases with confusion. 

Why were you kissing him then? 

‘‘We’re friends with benefits,’’ you inform him as if you had read his mind. ‘‘He’s a nice guy, though. Also, super smart, he’s helped me with a few of my─’’ 

‘‘You’re not a virgin anymore?’’ He abruptly asks, disbelief in his tone as he internally screams to himself for thinking out loud. Jungkook expects you to berate him about such an imprudent question, but is surprised when he sees you giggling. 

‘‘Duh, silly. I think I lost it freshman year?’’ The carelessness in your voice makes him look at you like you’ve gone crazy. Why are you so lax about this? Why are you telling him about losing your virginity without a care in the world? ‘‘Anyway, are you going to be home for the─’’

Jungkook interrupts you once again, ‘‘Was it with your boyfriend at the time?’’ He asks in genuine curiosity and you sigh, rolling your eyes slightly at him. 

‘‘No, it was some random dude at this party I went to. Could you please─’’

‘‘Y/N, are you insane? Why would you give up your virginity to some fucking stranger like it’s nothing?’’ Jungkook’s voice raises as he scolds you about being so negligent about yourself, ‘‘You can’t do shit like that!’’ He fumed, making you let out a breathless chuckle. 

‘‘Could you stop treating me like a fucking child for once in your life? I’m perfectly fine, Jungkook. I’ve been doing pretty well for myself without you here, actually. I don’t know why you think you have a say on what I do, is it the entitlement you have of me that you still carry around because we grew up together? Because if that’s it then you can drop it, I let go of my little girl who wanted a friend and was treated like pure shit in return complex a long time ago.’’ 

He knows you’re right, but he thinks he’ll always have this odd sense of protection over the five year old girl who cried to his mom about not lending her his favorite toy. He’ll always want to apologize to the eight year old girl who declared her love for him with a Valentine’s Day card while he ended up breaking her heart in exchange. He’ll always wish to look for help within the twelve year old girl who witnessed him give out his first kiss to another girl who he didn’t even like. He’ll always feel guilty towards the sixteen year old girl who had gotten tipsy on a spiked fruit punch and crashed on his bed. He’ll always hate himself for not asking the seventeen going on eighteen year old girl to prom when he knew he could’ve, but chose not to in fear of ruining your friendship. 

You only wanted someone to be there for you growing up and Jungkook had never been the brave boy you thought he was, always running from his fears in hopes he’d have a wide advantage margin from them. Yet here they are, standing right in front of him in the form of a twenty year old you, and they’re there to let him know that you’ve never needed him, yet he’s always needed you.

He can’t even apologize, he only looks at you with wide eyes as he fidgets in his place. Either you’re both too old now to understand each other or you just realized that you’ve outgrown Jungkook. 

Your mouth set in a hard line as you crossed your arms, the night’s breeze feeling colder than usual. ‘‘I miss you Jungkook, but I can’t keep playing this cat and mouse game with you any longer.’’ 

You leave him behind to go back to Namjoon’s arms, seeking refuge in his sweet embrace as you try your hardest to put on practice what you learned all those years ago when Jungkook broke your heart for the first time, you should be used to it by now.

You’re twenty-one when you’re back in your hometown to attend the funeral of the old lady down the street, the one that always scolded you and Jungkook growing up. 

You had been scared of her as a child, but always following along your friend’s footsteps when he proposed playing around her garden. It tugs at your heartstrings even if you hadn’t known the woman well. Her death was imminent seeing as she’d been ill for quite some time. 

A taller figure stands next to you as you both stand way in the back of the ceremony. He looks tired and you figure that it’s because of the fact he arrived late into the night, you heard his car’s engine from your bedroom window. Dressing in all black, you notice he bought a new suit. You’re sure that the one he wore for prom no longer fits considering he’s bigger now. 

You haven’t talked to each other since last year when you both left off on a sour note. The hurt you felt was no longer present, though. You chewed on your bottom lip as you thought of a way you could talk to him again without making things awkward, but you let out a small gasp once he placed his arm around your shoulders, giving it a small squeeze as he sighed and kept his focus on the service. 

Watching the casket be lowered into the ground felt weird. She was a human being just like you, but her existence was a reminder of your childhood. Would it be okay to say that her death meant a part of you leaving with her too? 

Once it hits you, it’s Jungkook who consoles you by hugging you tight. Your eyes are too blurry with tears for you to realize this is one of those rare moments where he’s holding you close without hesitation. He lets you ruin his tuxedo’s jacket with your mascara covered tears as he brushes your hair as a sign of comfort. 

You know things are back in order when he proposes the idea to go back to the old lady’s porch, for old times sake. ‘‘Will we ever let her rest?’’ You ask him with a small laugh as Jungkook sits on the doorsteps of the old lady’s empty home, opening the bag of candy worms he bought at the grocery store. 

He shrugs, ‘‘She loved us, always told my mom how much she missed us running around the street.’’ The revelation makes you smile, hoping it was true. He pats the empty space next to him, indicating for you to fill it up with your presence. Once you do, you feel the familiar warmth of his proximity. 

Jungkook seems different and you only hope he’s changed for the best. 

‘‘When are you going back?’’ You ask him with curiosity, hoping that he’ll be in town for a few more days so you can catch up with him on a better note this time around. 

He munches on one of the snacks, ‘‘Tomorrow morning, I have training camp and can’t miss it.’’ His answer makes you sigh with disappointment, but you nod nonetheless. ‘‘What about you?’’ He asks in return, and you inform him that you’ll stay for a few more days to spend time with your family. There’s silence after that and Jungkook can only offer you the gummy worms in the bag, you take one with a small thanks.  

‘‘College fucking sucks,’’ he says out of nowhere and it makes you look at him in bewilderement, ‘‘I hate it there, I wanna drop out so bad. But I’m a year away from graduating so it’s too late now.’’ You see his shoulders visibly relax, like a weight had been lifted off them. ‘‘Plus my mom would kill me if I do so,’’ he adds with a chuckle. 

Last time you asked everything was fine. Had things changed or had they always been this way and he was just now being honest with you?

You rest your head on his shoulder and focus all of your undivided attention on him as he keeps rambling about what his life has been ever since he left this town. He’s had bad games, bad grades, and bad girls. But he’s also had incredible games, good grades, and a couple great hookups, and yet he still feels empty, it’s not enough. 

‘‘I miss you,’’ he mumbles as he faces you, ‘‘I’m sorry for being such a shitty friend, you deserved better.’’ His apology is genuine and you can feel it in the way his voice trembles, sincerity has always scared him after all. 

Jungkook’s never known when the time is right, and he misjudges the look on your face. When he leans down to press his lips against yours, he’s blinded for a mere moment into believing that you wanted to kiss him just as much as he had been waiting. 

You abruptly separate from him with wide eyes and parted lips, ‘‘Jungkook, I’m─I’m dating Namjoon now.’’ He can physically feel his heart shatter, the revelation coming out like an old newspaper headline he should’ve read a long time ago. 

He lets out a breathless chuckle, ‘‘He got over the commitment issues?’’ The rhetorical question is bitter. 

You scoff, ‘‘And what about it? I preferred to wait than to rush into getting my heart broken.’’ Plus it’s not like you were expecting Namjoon to grow feelings for you, the whole no strings attached arrangement was named that way for a reason. 

Jungkook looks at you with narrowed eyes and he shakes his head sightly. Old habits never die down, still so stubborn and challenging as ever. 

He’s startled as you stand abruptly, fuming as you look at him, ‘‘I don’t even know why you care! Did you forget that you threw my Valentine’s Day card into the trash? Or that you kissed Yeji in front of my face? Or that you let Taehyung date me as prank between your friends? Or that you were making out with Eunha while Jimin kept giving me alcohol? Or that you asked Jaehyun to take me to the stupid prom even though I was perfectly fine going without him or anyone for that matter?’’

‘‘We were just kids!’’ Jungkook argues back at you.

‘‘It still fucking hurt,’’ you counter, ‘‘still hurts, actually. You think that by giving me a measly apology and kissing it better I’ll suddenly forget about all of it?’’ Jungkook knows it won’t ever make up for all those years, but he had at least hoped you’d be willing to give him a chance. 

He wishes he could say something else. Explain that he had just tried to protect you in his own shitty way from everyone else or himself maybe, he doesn’t know anymore. He wants to speak up again, but there’s disappointment written all over your face, you’re not angry at him...just saddened. 

‘‘Hope you have fun at your training camp.’’

Jungkook watches as you leave him sitting by himself on the old lady’s doorstep. A hand runs through his hair as he feels his eyes water, and he can almost hear a whisper in the wind that asks him why he didn’t stop you when he could’ve. 

Jungkook didn’t think that his family coming together with yours for Christmas dinner would’ve been a great idea. You’re cold to him at first and it’s fitting for the winter weather, but as always it only takes for him to sit next to you for things to warm up again. 

It’s with the excuse that you’ll run over to your house to grab a new bottle of wine from the kitchen counter that Jungkook trails behind you, both slightly tipsy on the different alcohols your families had offered each other. 

Years have passed since he last stepped foot inside your home, you used to visit him more often than he did anyway. It still smells and looks the same; the only difference is that there’s new pictures of you hung up on the walls, updated accordingly to the changes you’ve made ever since you left off for college.

You’re sporting a big smile in all of them, which in exchange makes him copy the action as well. His lack of presence in your life has done you better than compared to when he was around, and if that’s the case, then at least he did something right. 

There hasn’t been much said since the beginning of the night, just a simple hey out of courtesy. There’s so much he wants to say, but with no clue where to begin. Another apology is due, though he thinks it’s a little too late for that. He also wants to ask about what you’ve been up to since he last saw you, are you still dating the Namjoon guy you had told him about after he kissed you? If he’s still there, Jungkook rather keep quiet and not wonder out loud to you, he’s sure that it’ll hurt if it’s true. 

Growing up Jungkook always mistook your bravery with stubbornness and your courage with relentlessness. You’ve always been challenging, but only because you wanted him to do so too. It’s moments like this that prove him that you’ve always been the stronger between the two.

‘‘So, we’re just gonna pretend like nothing’s wrong between us?’’ You ask, speaking directly to him for the first time that night. It makes him look at you like a deer stuck in headlights, surprised by the sudden question and out of all the years of knowing each other, he feels small under your gaze for once. ‘‘How much time is it going to pass until you want to finally talk things like adults?’’ 

Jungkook gulps the lump in his throat, his brain quickly thinking of the right thing to say, ‘‘I just wanted to protect you from─’’

‘‘From what? From you? Everytime you’ve done that I end up getting hurt in the end. I’m left to pick the pieces up by myself,’’ you interject with anger in your voice. ‘‘It fucking pisses me off that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you kissing me, I haven’t stopped thinking about you and─’’ A sigh, you close your eyes to center yourself again as Jungkook waits for the final blow, ‘‘and you look like none of this has ever bothered you in the slightest because, you don’t really care about me do you?’’

‘‘I do care about you.’’ He’s sure about it, even though he’s been extremely bad at showing it. 

Even though your eyes are threatening to spill tears, you still muster up the last bit of what’s left of your courage to step closer to him until you’re a few inches away. ‘‘Prove it, then. Show me that you care.’’ 

His brain is sent into quick overdrive due to your close proximity. There’s a slight hesitation because he only hopes that what he’s about to do is what you’re demanding him to prove. He doesn’t care if you’re still dating the Namjoon guy because he’s settled with the idea that it’s okay if you don’t correspond, it’s not like he did the same to you when you were both younger. 

Once his lips press against yours, there’s no turning back. He’s waiting for you to push him back and let him know that your heart’s still taken, but you kiss him with such fervor that he knows in that moment that you’re right, it’s better to wait than to rush right in. 

It’s no fairytale kiss, though. There’s desperation in the way you chase his lips, as if you were to slow down he’d find a way to escape from you. You grip the cotton material of his crewneck into your small fists, holding on to the fabric like your life depended on it. The small kiss you had both shared last year was nothing compared to this, and Jungkook’s taken aback by your neediness. 

He doesn’t know how you manage to drag him to your childhood bedroom without missing a beat, only separating once you both realize you need to catch your breaths, and even then Jungkook can’t have a minute to take just happened in because your lips attach to his neck to get more of a taste. His fingers curled around your arm, sighing at the way your kisses felt like electricity on his skin. 

‘‘Y/N,’’ he calls your name out in a breathy tone, but you’re too immersed in your little bubble to even realize it. 

Jungkook groans when you bite into the skin of his neck, then blowing over the red mark as you kissed it better. It’s going to be bruise and he doesn’t like when that happens, but he’s not bothered at all if it comes from you. He forcibly grabs your chin so you can face him, looking at him with big eyes, a small pout, and with your chin messed with drool. 

It’s then that Jungkook kisses you hungrily, making you feel like you’re in a dream-like state,  though you could partially blame the Christmas eggnog for that. The way he bites at your lips and how your tongues clash together is an extreme juxtaposition as to how you could describe this moment. It’s as if you’re floating on air, clouds surrounding you in a heavenly embrace, angels singing in the background every time his hands touch, grab, hold and caress every part of your body. And yet, even with such a difference, it’s perfect because it’s Jungkook. You’ve been waiting for this too long, which is why your hands creep beneath his crewneck, touching his tonified abdomen tentatively and enjoying the way goosebumps arise on his skin at the sensation of your fingers trailing patterns wherever they caress.  

It’s only fair that he pays attention to yours as well. Jungkook’s lips trail from your mouth onto your jawline, planting wet kisses on each space until he begins sucking on the skin of your neck, making you moan in the process. He chooses then that his new favorite sound is the way you voice out the pleasure he gives you. ‘‘Hurry up,’’ you say, ridding the bottom of the crewneck higher over his stomach, making him shiver at the sudden change of temperature. 

Jungkook chuckles before completely getting rid of the material, ‘‘Calm down,’’ he sighs as he gives you a sweet smile, ‘‘You know our moms could talk forever.’’ 

You ogle his chest, admiring the way his training camps have obviously done wonders to his body. ‘‘It’s not them I’m talking about,’’ you correct him with a teasing smile that only makes his grin grow wider, chuckling at your impatience. Jungkook lets out a small gasp of surprise when your hands grasp at his shoulder blades, turning him around so you can back him until the back of his knees hit the edge of your bed. It’s funny how he lets himself be bossed around by someone who’s way smaller compared to his frame.

Jungkook finds leverage on his elbows splayed against the mattress, your knees resting on each side of his hips as you leaned into him and kissing him just as widely as you had done before. Jungkook could fill just how quick things were escalating, especially the way his crotch area was beginning to become a problem he couldn’t possibly control at the moment, not with your own being directly on top of it. In any other situation he would’ve apologized with an awkward laugh, but his breath hitches once your hips start grinding over him.  

His hands make their way on the inside of your knitted sweater, provoking goosebumps on the exposed skin. You let out a shaky laugh, halting your movements so you can quickly get rid of the fabric as Jungkook’s eyebrows lift in surprise at your haste and then at the sight of your bra covered breasts. His hands are still steadily placed on each side of your waist, only brought up because your own had redirected them over your breasts, hoping he gets the message on what you want him to do now.   

Jungkook hesitantly squeezed one of the round globes, provoking a small moan to come from out of your lips. He wishes to hold you as close as he possibly can because the idea of ever being away from you again has been his main fear as of lately. But he refrains, you look so delicate and he feels like you could easily break. He stares at your body lovingly and your cheeks heat up at the way his eyes ogle your chest like a kid in a candy story. You give his arm a light slap and he chuckles, leaning over you to place a passionate kiss on your lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he says frankly. It doesn’t help to dissipate the flush on your face, but the compliment doesn’t bother you in the slightest. Jungkook leans in to trail kisses past your collarbones and into the swell of your breasts, making you bite your lip with anticipation. He looks at you asking for permission and you nod quickly with parted lips as you start to become impatient for him to make his next move. Jungkook lowers the cups of your breasts, freeing your hardened nipples and immediately envelopes one of them with his lips. “Mph—!” A sigh escapes your lips as you try to memorize the way his tongue traces over your tit. He pays attention to your other one, fingers rolling over the bud and pinching ever so often. 

You can feel your panties damp by then, trespassing into the fabric of the black leggings you’re wearing over them. Reaching behind your back, you fumble in unclasping the hooks of the now uncomfortable bra. Jungkook’s forced to stop the undivided attention he had places on your breasts to look at you like he’s lost, why are you going so fast? 

Once your hands delve with the buckle of his belt, he has to hold on to your wrists with a firm grasp, ‘‘What are you doing?’’ He asks with quick breath, you blink stoically towards him. 

‘‘Uh─getting you naked?’’ You answer with a nonchalant tone, but his hands don’t let go and your demeanor changes, ‘‘D-Did you not want this?’’ Your voice turns smaller, embarrassed that maybe you had pressured him into something he didn’t want to participate in. 

Jungkook quickly shakes his head no, ‘‘No, I-I do want this! It’s just─you’re going so fast,’’ he tries to explain, ‘‘I’ve been waiting for this for too long, I don’t wanna rush.’’ Your eyes lit up at the revelation as he waits for you to answer back, only for his back to hit the comforter with a small thud, giggling at the way you urgently kiss him again, but this time with much more care. 

‘‘Why didn’t you say so before, stupid?’’ You mumble with a sheepish look, ‘‘I thought it was just going to be─nevermind, I need you right now.’’ You have to force yourself from spitting out any details that could possibly ruin the moment between you two, deciding to wait instead for any emotional confessions you want to make. 

He switches positions between the two, panting as he brings you down to the mattress and Jungkook can feel the goosebumps on your skin, whether from the coldness of the room or because of the sheer electricity of his hands caressing your body like it was molded just right for him. He dips his hand lower, cupping your clothed heat on his hand. It makes you tremble and you whine, encouraging him to keep going. 

“Baby, you’re really wet,” he comments with a teasing tone and you pout at him. His fingers hook into the waistband of your leggings and he pulls them down as he travels with them, greeted by the sight of the damp cloth of your panties. He exhales with content, caressing your thighs in an up and down motion. You twist underneath him and he has to hold your hips down to calm you down, “Patience is a virtue.” 

“I’ve been too patient, do some—Ah!” Your whining is interrupted once Jungkook moves your underwear to the side holding it with his free hand, fingers coming to trace the slick covering your pussy lips. He becomes entranced with the transparent gooey liquid, bringing them close to his face as he separates his fingers and sees a strand connecting between them. “Guk-ah, p-please…” Your needy voice brings him back to reality, delving his fingers back into your exposed heat but this time with intent. 

Jungkook’s thumb lifts the hood covering your clit, mouth coming down to give it a small tentative kiss. That action alone has you writhing above him, it makes him chuckle to himself as he dives back in. The moans you let out are loud and clear inside your bedroom, thankful that it’s only you and him inside your house. Your hand pulls at his hair, making him groan against you and the vibrations are felt throughout your body, only adding to the euphoric pleasure you already possess. His fingers trace the inside of your thighs until they reach your entrance, circling the fluttering hole which makes you pull at his hair harder and with your other you hold on to the bedsheets of the comforter tightly into your fist. 

Jungkook’s tongue is still working your engorged bud, but he focuses his eyes on you as he dips the first finger inside you. “Oh—fuck,” you let out in a breathy moan. He tries to maintain a rhythm between his two ministrations, but it’s hard when he wants to focus on all of them at once. “‘Nother, please,” you begged once he let your clit rest, quickly following your request by adding another into your warm heat. He lets out a breathless chuckle as he notices how easy it is to thrust both fingers inside of you, your whole crotch area is covered in slick and his wet chin is a dead giveaway to where he was seconds ago. 

He watches you unravel over him with such adoration, not even his wettest dreams or dirtiest fantasies could prepare him for this. Seven minutes in heaven he plans to stay in forever. “Guk-ah, I wan’ you. I-Inside, please.” You plead with teary eyes, and he slowly stops, removing his arousal covered fingers from inside you as he makes you sigh in the process. He kisses you again and again, your hazy brain is probably hallucinating all of this right now, but damn is it good. You tug at the crewneck he’s wearing, he’s too overdressed for this occasion. He tends to your demands, quickly getting rid of all the layers of clothing that stop him from being inside of you fully. 

“I don’t have a—“ 

“I’m on the pill.”

You both speak at the same time, making each other chuckle. Jungkook gulps at the idea of taking you raw as the first time together, and you salivate at his hardened length; the head already oozing precum out and you want nothing more than to wrap your lips around it and lick the tip up. You’re just about to when Jungkook quickly grabs your wrist to stop you from reaching him, you look up at him with the big sparkly eyes he has loved for too long. 

“I just—I wanna be inside you right now,” he sheepishly admits, and you smile with a nod; sharing the sentiment. You back up until your head rests on the pillows comfortably, relaxing into the mattress as you wait for Jungkook to ready himself. He places a kiss on your lips before placing a hand next to your head, using it as leverage above you. His free hand takes his cock and rubs the tip along your folds, making you squirm with anticipation. Jungkook chuckles, “Are you ready?” He asks with a sweet smile. 

“I’ve always been,” you whisper, your hand tucking a strand of his long hair behind his ear. 

A caress to his cheek as he nods, slowly pushing the head of his dick into you. You bite into your lip hard, it’s been a while since you had sex with someone and Jungkook’s size and girth was different from the rest. Your walls are tight around him and he has a tough time trying to reach the hilt with you squeezing him so hard, “Baby, relax for me.” He pleads and you nod apologetically, breathing in deep as you feel him reach parts inside of you, you didn’t know existed. Once he’s all the way in, he waits for you to give him the go ahead while he presses kisses into your heated cheek. You wrap your legs around his waist and give him a nod, letting him know he was allowed to start thrusting.

Jungkook manages to hit all the right places, keeping a steady pace as he enters and exits you each time. You’re left to moan and writhe underneath him, letting him take you as he pleases. Your kisses become messy, teeth biting into each other’s lips, teeth grazing against each other as you both tried to fight for the dominant position. It’s that heavy makeout that incites you to push at his shoulders, making him turn in his back, exiting you in the process. Jungkook pants, chest rising and falling with quickness as you straddle his lap, arms connecting behind his neck. 

“You always want to win, right?” He chuckles with half lidded eyes, enjoying the way your pussy lips grinded over his twitching length. You bat your eyelashes at him, offering him an innocent smile. The same technique that used to get you everything you wanted when you were younger. Same determination as you seek for what’s yours. He’s under you after all, still a victim to your charms.

Jungkook takes the bulbous head of his cock and teases it in your clit, if you weren’t holding on to him tight you would’ve collapsed into his chest. And by the way you moan his name out, he knows you’ll always look for him no matter the weather. “What a pretty girl,” he coos into your hair and you pinch his nipple in retaliation which only makes him groan in return. “My pretty girl.” He states before sinking himself deep into you again, sighing at the feeling of your hips circling over him. His rough hands guide them as you bounce up and down his length, moaning every time you rose and hissing when you came back down. 

He makes sure to keep this image engraved on his head forever. Your breasts bouncing over his face, your thighs working extra hard to keep up with his thrusts, and the way your sounds bounced off the walls of your bedroom. 

“You’re doing s-so good, baby.” Jungkook praises you, kneading your ass cheek. “Taking my cock s-so well,” he falls into a trance of admiring the way his length would appear and disappear inside of you, covered in a thick layer of your arousal. It makes him drill into you faster, sitting properly against the bed’s headboard as he takes your hips with force. He’s too turned on to keep treating you so delicately, and the way you moan and pant at the increase in speed only lets him know you enjoy him like this way more. “I-Is it good, baby? Am I-I fucking you well?” He asks in between rapid thrusts, your thighs had given out by then. 

You nod and a whimper escapes your lips, “Y-yes, Guk-Ah. S-so good, feels amazing.” Your praise is honest, the fucked out tone in your voice is a clear indicator of how well of a job he was doing. A minute longer and you’ll be right on cloud nine, never wanting to come back down. “Wanna cum Guk-Ah, plea—“ There’s no need for you to even finish your sentence because his thumb rubs your clit in figure eights, making you groan with the intensified feeling of his hips circling inside you deliciously. You can almost see the blinding white light ahead as Jungkook kisses you feverishly. You feel tears escape the corners of your high, the familiar feeling tickling inside you as Jungkook’s thrusts don’t let up. ‘‘Ah! Yes, yes, fuck,’’ you cry out once your orgasm hits. Jungkook holds you close to his chest, trying to soothe your shaking body with his arms. Your walls squeeze and relax continuously around him, it serves him as the impulse he needs to chase his own high. 

‘‘I love you, Jungkook,’’ you confess in between panting breaths, ‘‘so much.’’ 

His release shoots out and he groans, digging crescent moons into your hips. You hiss at the sensation, but giggle at how his eyes are screwed shut and brows still furrowed together, as if he was holding on to the last of his orgasm. In reality, Jungkook is just hoping that once he opens his eyes you’ll still be in his arms. Your fingers tilting his head to face you are very much real, he sees spots once he opens his eyes as they adjust to the room’s lighting. 

‘‘I love you too.’’ He says with a fixed gaze and you coo at how perfect this is.

You’re twenty-two when Jungkook’s finally yours.

You’re both twenty-three and it’s another weekend spent at his apartment, he’s been playing for three hours now and you’ve given up on having him pay attention to you. Deciding to switch your plan around and join him instead, if only he would let you play.

‘‘Jungkook, you said it was going to be my turn five rounds ago!’’ You complain with a pout, crossing your arms across your chest. 

His gaze is still stuck on the T.V screen, ‘‘Baby, shhh, you’re gonna make me lose.’’ He mumbles as he tries to remain concentrated on the game in hand, but he can hear your humph’s from behind him, ‘‘Patience is a─’’

‘‘Virtue, yeah, who cares.’’ You interrupt him with a roll of your eyes, familiar with the saying a little too well. ‘‘Hope you remember that for later tonight,’’ you add in a mumble, but he doesn’t hear it because of the loud sounds coming from the game on the screen. 

‘‘What did you say, babe?’’ He asks with a raised brow, hitting the buttons of the controller with expert ease. 

‘‘I’ll call your mom and tell her you don’t wanna share.’’ You joke with a threatening voice, but Jungkook knows better than to take your words so lightly. He pauses the game and turns to look at you with an are you serious? expression on his face, you giggle as you’ve finally got what you wanted. 

He apologizes by covering your face with kisses, pleading for you not to tell on him with his mom. You promise not to do so this time, knowing that the woman was probably tired of having to scold his son at his big age. 

Plus, ever since Jungkook surprised you with the almost exact replica of the Valentine’s Day card you gave him all those year back, you’ve taken advantage to tease him even more knowing he’s at your beck and call. You always remind him that he came close because the stickers he used were not like the ones you had, but he remembered to add the hearts on the I’s so that’s good enough. 

‘‘Alright you can play, but━!’’ He says after he finishes his attack of kisses, ‘‘I’ll be your guide, I can’t risk you messing my record up, no offense baby.’’ None taken as you nod excitedly, you’ll always take whatever chance he gives you. 

Jungkook’s finally learned how to share his toys after all.

[rosepetalmark]

flowers in your hair

↬ Johnny Suh x Reader ↬1.8k Words ↬Your allergies and creating art are two things Johnny holds dear to his heart

You hated the outdoors. Anything to do with bugs, dirt, and even plants made you itch and sneeze and scared that you’ll get some rare unknown disease and die because the innocent looking flower you picked by the bench turned out to be poisonous. 

Johnny on the other hand, enjoyed nature and embraced it to its fullest. Every day he’d make time to bask in the grass, and soak up all the sun while working on his latest art inspiration. 

Today, he decided that sitting in a field full of sunflowers would be ideal for his newest project, and what would make it more worthwhile and perfect was if you, his girlfriend  were with him to occupy his time and add further enjoyment to his favourite hobby. 

Horrible idea on his part because you’re allergic to flowers, and tall fields of grass would most likely break you out into hives and have you coughing up a lung. Johnny wouldn’t bat an eye though, because despite loving you with all his heart, he had a knack for making fun of you and the simplest inconveniences that occurred within your life. 

He always says you’re over dramatic when it comes to your “spring allergies” and that nothing like some water and the fresh air will clear your mind and nasal passages. 

He’s a dumbass, and he really will be the reason you die one day. 

But Johnny didn’t care, because as long he had you, a bottle of allergy medicine for your sneezing and itching, and his paintbrushes, he was content, even if you spent a great amount of your time in this damn sunflower field teary eyed and stuffy nosed. 

“Johnny, please tell me we can leave soon, I'm itching way more now than I did when i had the chickenpox as a kid,” you whine, rubbing your hands across your bare arms to provide you with any relief as you watched the bees swarm past you in their search for some nectar in the flowers nearby.  

“Mhm,” he whispers, continuing to stroke the paintbrush across the now detailed page, completely oblivious to the words that just left your mouth. 

This always happened. Whenever he took you somewhere new, he’d completely block out the world, yourself included, in order to capture the essence of life whether it be through his camera or canvas. 

Of course there was silence, why wouldn’t there be. Every time Johnny asks you to accompany him anywhere outdoors, you always think you’re going to explore and embrace nature, and every single time you are wrong, because the second you find something beautiful to look at, he sets his small backpack down and busts out either his camera or painting utensils to capture it. 

You’d say it pissed you off at times, but art is his passion, and you’d never do anything to get in the way he feels so alive and free whenever he consumes himself with something as minuscule and simple as a paperclip. He finds the beauty in anything and everything, never ceasing to amaze you with the wonderful creations he illustrates. 

“Johnny,” you say a little louder, unamused with the silence you receive, and the continuous strokes he continues to make on the page. 

You call his name again, and again, and again, and it’s only the third time when you yell out his full name, that he finally drops the brush on his palette and focuses his attention on you. 

“Were you not listening to me?” You question, seriously surprised that out of all the times you’ve called his name, he either completely ignored you or has gone def within his 25 years of life. 

“Oh, I was listening,” he hums, raising his eyebrows whilst providing you with his staple cheeky grin, one he always does when he wants to get on your nerves. 

Always a cocky one that guy, and how you manage to stay dating him truly blows your mind. 

Sighing, you focus your gaze away from the way he picks up his paintbrush again and gently strokes baby blue across the page, looking towards the tall stocks of sunflowers gently breezing in the wind a few feet away from you.

“You’re such a crappy boyfriend,” you chuckle, picking up one of the untouched pastel crayons and examining its fluorescent blue hue.  “You never pay attention to me.” 

“I never pay attention to you, hm?” He asks, causing you to stare back at his now stoic stature, face still focusing on his notebook and nowhere on you, but more contoured and rigid this time.

“Well, you’re speaking to me now yet your attention is never on me, always on whatever you’re painting or drawing,” your tone slightly angered. 

Obviously you were lying. Johnny was the most attentive boyfriend you could ever ask for, always checking in on you and ensuring your day goes smoothly, always hanging out with you when he’d rather be napping or out painting or doing photography, and almost always is down to make out with you whenever the opportunity arises. 

You just like to pull his leg most of the time because it’s funny seeing how riled up he gets when he believes that you think he’d rather focus on his hobbies over having conversations with you. 

“Here,” he signals, shoving his book in your direction, encouraging you to look through the worn out leather book he kept hidden for months, wanting you to see what he has been working on secretly whenever you were together.

Confused, you run your fingers along the enclosed ribbon on the cover of the sketchbook, hesitant to allow yourself in the work he’s immersed himself in for hours whenever the beauty in nature took over his attention span away from you.

Raising his eyebrows, he nods in a manner that demands you open the book. “If I don’t pay any attention to you, look through the book.”

Untying the string , you decide that whatever is in this book isn’t a secret anymore, because it wouldn’t even be in your hands if Johnny didn’t practically throw it at you to shut you and your curiosity up. 

The first few pages are beautiful, really. He has a way with his sketches, always seeming so simple yet so realistic you’d think they were actual pictures edited just to appear more striking to the eye. 

“Nature really is what inspires you hm?,” you ask, more of a rhetorical question because you already know the answer that’ll come from his mouth.

Chuckling, he brings his body closer to yours so his chin is resting on your shoulder, watching as you delicately turn the pages of his book. “Yeah, but there’s something more encapsulating that ends up being my muse, just keeping looking through.”

Golden sunflowers, vibrant pink sunsets, the giant pumpkin you both visited at the fall fair last year, everything you two experienced together when hanging out was documented in this book and reinvented through his drawings or paintings of them. 

And then you saw a sketch of yourself. At first you thought it was cute, because he’d always draw you and all your other friends whenever he got bored. But four pages later all you found were several pages filled with you, ranging from when when he placed different coloured tulips in your hair that one time you went on a walk in the new community garden not far from your favourite ice cream shop, or when you experimented with makeup and put glitter all over your eyebrows. 

Every moment you deemed minuscule and fun was captured so deeply in Johnny’s eyes, that he decided to relive it all again through the many strokes and colours that seamlessly came together to create something so beautiful. 

Your breath was absolutely taken away.

You always thought nature is what captured Johnny’s attention the most, but turns out it’s always been you. 

“I’m. Wait Johnny this is so-,” you begin to say, but your words become jumbled and your emotions a tangled mess, leaving you with tears in your eyes and so much more love for him in your heart than you’d ever had before, all because he drew some pictures of you. 

“Do you like them?” he questions, raising his eyebrows, awaiting your answer of approval, his question only promoting the waterworks to begin and your head to aggressively nod. 

You place the notebook gently on the blanket you two were sitting on, and crawl into his lap, pressing your body closer to his as you wrap your arms around his neck. 

They were absolutely perfect. He was perfect. 

Everything Johnny Suh says and does is absolutely incredible and you’re so incredibly lucky to be dating the cheesiest, most loving goofball the earth has to offer. Even if he’s a giant pain in your ass 97% of the time. 

Pecking his cheek, you stare into his gleaming brown orbs. “I absolutely love them, Mr. Johnny Suh, and I love you a million times more.”

Tightening your arms around his neck, you couldn’t help but embrace this moment for much longer. You don’t care that you’re five seconds away from bursting into hives and that your throat feels like it’s closing up. Holding on to your very sweet, thoughtful boyfriend for as long as you could right in this moment was all that mattered to you. 

“I was joking by the way, I know you care about me alot and pay more attention than most boyfriends would and I appreciate you tremendously.” You could start to feel the tears well up in the corners of your eyes, because you honestly don’t know what you’d do without Johnny. 

He was your best friend, and has been such an uplifting, inspiring person ever since he entered your life your freshman year of college, the thought of him not being in your life one day was a scary thought you never wanted to come true. 

“I love you always.”

“I know babe”, he whispered, kissing your cheek and running his fingers delicately through your hair, trying to calm you down as he could sense you were feeling rather overwhelmed. 

“I wouldn’t keep dragging you to places you hated if I knew you didn’t love me,” he exclaimed, bursting out into a loud, body shaking laugh that provided you with the comfort to let your tears go, and laugh in unison with him. 

Lifting you off his lap, Johnny grabs his art supplies and gently places them in his bag, grabbing your hand and pulling you up from the dry, matted grass you were both sitting on. 

“Where are you dragging me?” 

“Back to my place.” He winks, quickly pecking your lips before intertwining his fingers with yours, pulling you into the direction of his car. 

“It wouldn’t be romantic to be making out with my girlfriend that I love very much in a sunflower field if she kept sneezing in my face, wouldn’t it?”

[clumsyclifford]

hello bella’s ask box it’s been a min damn.

so the vibes are fucking everywhere w the music in the lab today so i’ve mostly been ignoring it but then unforgettable by thomas rhett started playing and my brain was immediately like This Is a Fic Song

more importantly it is a Bella Fic Song

last time you not so subtly wanted me to prompt u w w thomas rhett song you told me to do that here so i am back again w another song from ur boy

okay i def snuck out just to send this so i gotta go now but this felt important laksdjdld

ok ily bye 💛

hi sam :)

so.................... i was stuck on what to write you for your birthday fic. you sent me this ask prompting me with a thomas rhett song that i had literally been meaning to write a fic based on for almost a full year. the puzzle pieces just aligned REALLY nicely on this one.

happy birthday, my love. there's gonna be a LOT more sappy shit in the ao3 notes, but please know that my life is irreversibly changed for the better because i met you. i am dangerous close to sounding like glinda from wicked and i really want you to get to READ this fic so please see ao3 for more schmaltz. i love you so much.

tw for alcohol

read here on ao3

-

Every life has a moment that imprints on memory like ink on a fresh page. The kind of moment that permanently alters the trajectory of that life, that marks the ending of one chapter and the beginning of another. Some people are lucky enough to have more than one. Some people’s minds are laden with crystallized memories. But there’s always at least one. One completely unforgettable moment.

For Jack, this moment happens twenty-four minutes after he enters the club.

Twenty-three minutes after he enters the club, Zack returns with his and Jack's second beers and says, "There's some guy at the bar who's totally your type."

"Yeah?" Jack cranes his neck, but he can't quite see the bar from where he is. "My type how? Not just 'lonely and drunk,' right? My standards have gotten higher, you know."

Zack hands Jack his beer. "He's cute and he's wearing a One Direction shirt, and I'm pretty sure he's drinking a margarita.”

"Oh shit," Jack says. "That checks all my boxes."

"I know it does," says Zack, winner of the Wingman Of The Decade award. He claps Jack on the shoulder. Jack sidesteps people until he gets eyes on the bar and scans for a cute guy in a One Direction shirt drinking a margarita.

Twenty-four minutes after Jack enters the bar, he sees Alex.

And everything changes forever.

*

"Woah," Jack says. His gut is feeling weird and it’s probably unrelated to the beer and a half under his belt.

"What?"

"The guy at the bar," Jack says, grabbing Zack's arm. "Zack. You grossly undersold my future husband to me."

"Your future husband?" Zack sounds amused, but Jack isn't kidding.

"Remember this moment," he says seriously, giving Zack a sloppy pat on the bicep before moving away from him, towards the bar, towards the cute guy with the One Direction shirt who's making Jack understand clairvoyance. "Remember this so you can tell the story at our wedding!"

"Your wedding," Zack repeats.

"Our fucking wedding!" Jack insists, more loudly as space and drunk people fill the growing gap between him and Zack. Zack just gives him a good-luck-and-godspeed wave.

Seconds later, Jack is at the bar.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

The cute guy in question looks up, surprised. Jack practically reels. It's a miracle people aren't flocking to this guy; he's not just cute, he's gorgeous. Bleach-blond hair — clearly from a bottle, which somehow Jack finds more attractive — flops over his forehead in a stubborn commitment to the emo fringe that died out a decade ago, and long lashes frame brown eyes that rival the glossy chestnut color of the bar. Add the five o'clock shadow and the sharply angled jaw and Jack's speechless.

Fortunately it's not his turn to speak. "I have a drink," says the guy, who is rapidly progressing from Cute Guy At Bar to Possible Soulmate At Bar. He quirks a smile. Jack's done for. "I'll buy you a drink, though."

Jack sets his partially-drunk beer on the bar top and slides it as far as he can reach. "Okay," he says.

Possible Soulmate laughs. He slides his margarita away from him, too, pushing it into the space of another person sitting down the bar. "Touché. Okay, you can buy me a drink."

"Well, hey, I don't want you to waste yours," Jack says reasonably. He retrieves his beer and then Possible Soulmate's drink. "I'll get the next one."

Possible Soulmate smiles. Jack is going to need his name eventually. "I appreciate your commitment to environmentally-friendly consumption of alcohol."

Jack blinks. "Yeah," he says. "That was a lot of big words, but sure. No problem. I'm Jack, by the way."

"Alex." Alex. Jack can see the wedding invites now.

"Nice to meet you," Jack says. "I like your shirt."

Alex glances down out of instinct as the wide collar of the shirt slips over his shoulder. "Thanks," he says with a chuckle, and looks up at Jack. "I like yours."

With great effort, Jack tears his gaze from Alex's shoulder and the hint of collarbone peeking out, but he would like it on the record that it is tremendously difficult. Fortunately he already knows what shirt he's wearing because he'd agonized over it for several minutes longer than Zack's patience ran, shortly before going out.

"Yeah, Kurt Cobain," he says, nodding with probably too much enthusiasm. "I'm a lead singer guy."

"Really?" Alex tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. "Meaning what?"

"I go for the lead singer types," Jack explains. "Kurt Cobain, Billie Joe Armstrong, you know." He nods at Alex's shirt. "Harry Styles."

"Harry Styles wasn't—" Alex breaks off and snorts. "Eh, whatever. Who cares."

"Wait," Jack says. "Hold the phone. Did you fucking cross out Zayn's face?"

Alex looks down at his shirt again like maybe he'll have forgotten what it looks like. "Oh, my friend did that. But now the shirt is factually accurate."

"If you wanted an accurate shirt you'd have to cross them all out since none of them are in the band anymore," Jack observes.

Alex slowly smiles. "I guess."

"I always liked Zayn," Jack says wistfully. "His solo shit is so good, though."

"It's good," Alex says, kind of in the tone of voice of someone who doesn't really agree but doesn't want to get into it, so Jack leaves it be. They can poll their wedding guests. "I'm really digging Niall's solo shit."

"That's an extremely acceptable answer," Jack says, nodding vigorously. In the moment it slips his mind that he's holding a beer and the liquid begins to slosh out of its container. "Oh shit, fuck, sorry."

"Didn't get me," Alex says, passing Jack a napkin. "Couple too many, I get it."

"What?" Jack is very focused on drying his hands so they don't get sticky and gross. "I'm not drunk."

Alex laughs. "Yeah, right."

"I'm not!"

"Okay," Alex says lightly, but it's clear he doesn't believe Jack. On the bright side, he doesn't seem bothered by it.

"I am acceptably drunk for a guy in his mid-twenties at a club,” Jack amends. "And you owe me a drink anyway."

"Hey, I intend to buy you that drink," Alex says earnestly. "Another beer?"

Jack shakes his head. "Vodka soda," he says. "It's a special occasion."

"Really! You celebrating something?"

"I am now," Jack says. "Celebrating meeting my future husband."

"Your future husband?"

"You," Jack says, in case it wasn't clear. "It's not every day you meet the man you're gonna marry. I think it calls for a celebratory vodka soda."

Alex stares, obviously expecting Jack to say sike! When Jack does no such thing, he gives a small, incredulous laugh.

"Fair enough," he says. He sounds like he's humoring Jack. That's okay. Jack is serious, but Alex will figure that out on his own time. "I guess you're not wrong. That doesn't happen every day."

A large shadow materializes on Alex's other side, blocking light like some very cliché movie villain. It's not Doc Ock, but it is some tall, burly guy, a leer affixed to his face that's probably been there since Alex's haircut went out of style.

"Hey, baby," he says in an unnervingly deep voice. The part of Jack that isn't super skeezed out is a little jealous. But Burly Guy isn't talking to Jack; Jack may as well be invisible. To Alex, Burly Guy says, "Saw you across the bar and I just had to come over."

Didn't have to, Jack thinks grumpily to himself. You could have stayed across the bar. If you walk away now we’ll pretend we never saw you.

"Can I get you a drink?" Burly Guy asks, and honestly, Jack has no idea what Alex is going to say.

Big Burly Guy with a deep voice a la Morgan Freeman vs. resident beanstalk Jack whose voice sounds like a rejected cartoon character design. What a tough choice.

Jack is just preparing to cut his losses when Alex grabs Jack's wrist, turns to him, and says, "Honey? What do you think?"

Jack's tipsy, but Alex is definitely communicating something with his eyes, and between that and the pet name Jack is pretty sure he's on the same page.

"You want to buy my boyfriend a drink?" Jack asks Big Burly Guy, cranking up the Bitchy energy because he doesn't get to do it a lot and it's kinda fun. His voice has definitely gone vaguely southern-auntie, but he's rolling with it. "Sorry, sugar, this seat's taken. Must be this guy" — he points at himself — "to ride."

"This guy?" Burly Guy echoes, furrowing his eyebrows at Jack and then looking at Alex with profound confusion, like he just doesn't get it. "You're with this guy?"

"Happily," Alex says, glancing back at Jack, who offers him what is definitely a convincingly enamored smile because Jack is legitimately enamored. Alex laces their fingers together and Jack's not delusional, can't be, not when they fit this well together. No way. "So I'm gonna pass on that drink. Sorry, man. No hard feelings."

Burly Guy seems to have some hard feelings. Maybe he didn't get the memo. "Whatever," he says gruffly. "Your loss."

Jack can't resist countering, "Actually it's your loss, sweetums," as Burly Guy retreats. If he dies tonight, he knows who’s responsible.

As soon as he's gone, Alex breaks down laughing, and Jack quickly follows suit. Alex's hand slips from Jack's and begins to tug at the ends of his own hair instead.

"Sugar?"

"I don't know what happened," Jack says/wheezes. "I became possessed by Blanche from Golden Girls.”

"You have to be" — Alex prods Jack's chest — "this guy to ride." He dissolves into giggles and Jack is laughing too but mostly because Alex's laugh is incredibly contagious.

"Look, I don't blame him," Jack says, feeling exhilarated. "You are the best-looking guy in this establishment. He just happened to have creepo vibes."

"I am not the best-looking guy in this establishment," Alex says, grinning at Jack. "Nice of you to say, though."

"Hey, I'm serious!"

"I thought you were Jack."

Jack stares at Alex and Alex doesn't even last a second before he's breaking down laughing yet again.

I'm going to marry you, Jack thinks, and it almost scares him how serious he is about that. He opens his mouth and says, "That wasn't even— that's not even one of the good dad jokes! That's the most boring one!"

"There is no such thing as a boring dad joke."

"You should go into stand-up," Jack says dryly. "You'd tear down the house with this set. I can see it now." He waves a grandiose hand in the air as if painting the marquee into existence, but when he goes to introduce the act he realizes he's missing most of the crucial information. "Alex…something…something. Austin, Texas, one night only."

"Gaskarth," Alex says. "That's my last name."

"Alex Something Gaskarth," Jack loyally amends, and gives Alex a look like, well?

Except Alex is giving Jack that same look. "I only know your first name and you expect me to tell you my full one?"

"Jack Bassam Barakat," Jack says, gesturing impatiently. "Come on, I'm trying to introduce your act here."

"Guess," Alex says.

"Guess?"

"It's a pretty basic middle name," Alex says. "I'll buy you your vodka soda when you guess it."

"Alex," Jack says. "I am not going to guess your middle name. I am so bad at these games and I'm fucking drunk."

"Quitter," Alex says. "Do you want your drink?"

Jack scowls, trying to channel Blanche again, but Alex is apparently immune.

"Give me a hint," he finally concedes.

"It's a British name," Alex says. “Pretty standard British.”

"Are you British?”

Alex nods. "Born and raised. Moved here when I was about…eight? But I'm not an American citizen. I have a green card."

Yet another reason they should be married. Jack could extend his citizenship to Alex. Plus he'd gain British citizenship, which would probably be useful for, like, travel or One Direction stalking or whatever.

"That's sick," Jack says. "I was born in Lebanon. We moved when I was a baby."

"That's so cool," Alex says, sounding genuinely interested. He props his chin on his hand and gives Jack a cheeky smile. "Now guess."

Jack sighs. "Uh, Charles."

"No."

"Darcy."

"Darcy?"

"Margaret."

"Jack."

"You said it's a British name!"

"A British man's name," Alex says, rolling his eyes in fond exasperation.

Jack takes a long pull from his beer, swallows, and says, "Harry."

"No."

They're going to be here awhile. Jack pulls out the seat next to Alex and settles in while he racks his brain for British names.

*

“Alfred.”

“Nope.”

“John.”

“No.”

“Paul.”

“No.”

“George.” Alex shakes his head. “Ringo.”

“Yup, you finally got it,” Alex says. Jack is over the moon for a split second before it sinks in that Alex is fucking with him. “Alex Ringo Gaskarth. Well done.”

“Fuck off, I’m doing my best here,” Jack says.

“You’re missing one incredibly obvious name,” Alex says. “It’s not that hard.”

“For you,” Jack says. “Because you already know it.” Alex is grinning. Jack likes that he’s enjoying himself. It makes this guessing game fun. Under any other circumstances, this guessing game would not be fun, but Alex makes it fun.

Alex has also finished his mango margarita by now, and Jack’s beer is long since empty. He’s itching for another drink, mainly for something to do with his hands.

As if reading his mind, Alex flags down the bartender, who sidles up with a small smile and says, “What can I get you boys?”

Jack blinks at her. Mostly at her accent, which is not American.

“Vodka soda,” Alex says. To Jack, “I think you’ve earned it.” Jack smiles.

“And a mango margarita,” he puts in to the bartender, “and are you British?”

The bartender looks amused. “I am British,” she says.

“Please help me,” Jack says. “Alex says his middle name is a British name and I cannot for the life of me figure out what it fucking is.”

“Jack, the nice bartender lady has other things to do,” Alex says with a laugh. The nice bartender lady probably does have other things to do, but she shifts her weight and gives Alex an appraising look instead.

“Harry?”

“Tried that,” Jack says, realizing at once that this is a pointless endeavor. The nice bartender lady is going to guess everything Jack’s already guessed and he’ll just have wasted her time. “I’ve tried every member of One Direction, every member of the Beatles, every member of Oasis, every Harry Potter character, every member of the Royal Family—”

At this, Alex coughs conspicuously.

Jack rounds on him. “I have.”

“Edward,” the bartender offers. Alex’s lips are pressed together in a smile and he shakes his head. “Meghan. Kate. Richard. Dick. Philip.”

A lightbulb goes off as the bartender is listing Royal Family names. Jack wants to kick himself. “Oh my— William?”

“Yeahhhh, there you go! See, it was easy,” Alex says, grinning widely.

“William,” the bartender repeats with a charming little laugh. Her lipstick is bright with clean lines, an impressive feat considering Jack has seen her bustling around this bar for almost an hour now. “I had an ex called William.”

“Oh no,” Alex says. “I hope he didn’t ruin the name for you.”

“Please,” the bartender says, waving him off. “The only thing he ruined for me was a few meters of drywall.” Jack and Alex must have twin looks of concern, because she explains, “Anger issues. No worries, boys, I sent him packing, and a vodka soda for you, and a mango marg for you.”

She slides their drinks into waiting hands and starts to turn away. “Wait a sec,” Jack says.

The bartender turns back to him with wide Bambi eyes. “Did I fuck up the drink? I’ve made it a million—”

“No no no,” Jack assures her. “I just wanted to know your name. You rescued me from an eternal guessing game, you’re my hero.”

The bartender smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Maisie,” she says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, Maisie,” Alex says. “Thank you for the alcohol.”

Maisie laughs again as she moves to the other side of the bar.

“William,” Jack says, swirling his drink with the miniature straw. “God damn. I can’t believe I missed William.”

“You got close,” Alex says. “You guessed Liam twice. And thanks for the drink.”

“Same to you,” Jack says. “It’s a good drink. Yours, I mean. You know what offends me, though? Why aren’t mango margaritas orange?”

Alex furrows his brow. “Why the fuck would they be orange?”

“Mangos are orange! Fruity drinks should be the same color as their fruit.”

“Mangos are not fucking orange,” Alex says with an incredulous laugh. “They’re straight-up yellow.”

“They’re orange with yellow tendencies,” Jack says, “but mostly orange.”

“They are entirely yellow,” Alex says. “Coldplay even wrote a song about them. They were all yellow.”

“They’re orange,” Jack insists, but now Alex has moved on completely and is loudly singing Coldplay.

“I came along! I wrote a song foooor youuuuu! And all the things you do!”

“You’re ignoring the truth!”

“And it was called ‘Yellow’!” Alex shouts.

“Okay, I surrender! Sheesh. You win.”

“Thank you,” Alex says placidly, like he hasn’t just been yelling obnoxiously over the (worse, but much louder) club music. “I’m going to enjoy my yellow mango marg very much.”

“And I will enjoy my victory drink,” Jack says, lifting his glass. Alex lifts his. It smells like mango and tequila. They clink the rims together. “To William.”

“To William,” Alex agrees, laughing.

*

The DJ plays a song Jack loves to hate from hearing it on the radio so many times and Alex is out of his seat before Jack’s managed to put down his drink.

“What are—”

“I love this song, I want to dance,” Alex insists. The implication is clearly that he wants Jack to dance with him, which is like. What is Jack gonna do, say no?

Alex must anticipate some kind of argument, though, because with a glint in his eye he adds lightly, “These are the kinds of things you’ll have to do if we’re married.”

On the one hand, he’s clearly making fun. But on the other hand, the fact that Alex was a stranger an hour ago and is still comfortable teasing Jack about suggesting they’re going to get married speaks volumes. Alex is smiling. They’ve known each other for less than an hour — a drink and a half each — and Alex is smiling at his own joke about marrying Jack. Like he likes that Jack said it first. Like he likes Jack.

“Just wait ‘til you learn all the weird shit you’ll have to do when we’re married,” Jack says, sliding out of his stool.

Any sane person would have run away by now. Even Jack knows when he’s coming on too strong.

But Alex does the opposite; Alex grabs his wrist and pulls him towards the dance floor.

“Fair warning,” Alex says. “I don’t actually know how to dance.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Jack says, and then eats his words not two seconds later when Alex demonstrates how very much he doesn’t know how to dance. All of his limbs seem to move as their own entities, zero synchronization. A couple surrounding people take various minor assaults before taking the hint and giving Alex some space, but this does not stop him. “Okay,” Jack says loudly over the music. “You were right. But luckily neither do I.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Alex says.

Jack does the sprinkler. Alex snorts. He does the wave, very poorly, and Alex continues it, also very poorly.

“Mr. Moves,” Alex says. “I’m impressed.”

“Yeah? Check this one out.” Jack does the running man with extreme focus. Alex laughs, leaning towards Jack as he does. Jack stops dancing so he doesn’t accidentally hit Alex, who is suddenly much closer and who somehow smells like pine and flannel and fall and winter in one and is the best-looking person in blue jeans and checkered Vans on this dance floor. Far from the only person, but without question the prettiest.

Fuck.

“I don’t think I can do that one,” says Alex, grinning. Jack nods at him like, try it, so Alex does, proving himself right. He almost takes Jack’s eye out.

“Yeesh, okay, you’re— alright, take it easy,” Jack says, swatting Alex’s wayward hand away and laughing. “Well, we all have our strengths.”

Surrendering the running man, Alex starts up with some bizarre hand-wavey foot-kicky thing, singing along to the music.

“Do you seriously like this song?” Jack asks, attempting to imitate Alex’s dance. “Dance,” heavy quote marks implied.

Alex shoots Jack a look. “Hell yeah. What, you don’t?”

“It’s just…always on,” Jack says. “Everywhere. How are you not sick of it?”

“Because it fuckin’ slaps!” Alex looks incensed.

“I don’t know why I’m surprised you’re a pop music person when you’re literally in a One Direction shirt.”

“I’m a lots of music person,” Alex counters. “Including pop music, yeah. You don’t like pop music?”

“I sometimes do,” Jack says. “I like Taylor Swift. Britney Spears.”

“Okay, well, you’d have to be insane not to like them.”

“Yeah, and I’m obviously sane.”

Alex barks a laugh. “Drunk but sane.”

“I am not drunk!” That’s probably a lie by now.

“You’re not convincing me otherwise,” Alex says. “I’m confident you’ve been drunk this whole time.”

“You haven’t exactly been an innocent bystander,” Jack says. “You bought me a drink, and you’re gonna buy us shots in a minute.”

“I did— I what?”

“Yeah,” Jack says, and this time he drags Alex off the dance floor, back to the bar. “I can see the future, I forgot to tell you.”

“You—” Alex laughs again and leans on the bar, trapping both his elbows between his stomach and the bartop. “You’re buying the next round.”

“Oh, happily,” Jack says. “I’m actively trying to get you drunk.”

“Why’s that?”

“Studies show I am 75% more attractive to people when they’re drunk,” says Jack.

Alex turns to him. Without missing a beat, he says smoothly, “I don’t think it’s possible for you to get any more attractive.”

Fuck. Actually, fuck. Seriously. Fuck.

“You must be drunk already, then,” Jack says.

Alex smiles serenely. “I feel pretty sober.”

“Exactly what a drunk person would say,” Jack says. “J’accuse, William.”

Alex laughs. “In that case, your studies are right.”

Jack’s probably blushing. He does that in extreme cases only, but this is nothing if not an extreme case. Alex is fucking relentless.

Maisie the bartender is back, and Alex orders them shots of tequila. Somewhere in the recesses of Jack’s mind, this unlocks a memory, and he snaps his fingers. “I should hunt down my friend, he loves tequila.”

“Friend?” Alex looks around while Maisie pours their shots. “You ditched your friend?”

“He told me to,” Jack says. “He’s probably gonna pick up some girl. Actually, he probably already has.”

“Really,” Alex says, sounding amused.

“Zack’s a strong silent type,” Jack explains. “Emphasis on strong. We’re single guys in our mid-twenties, Alex. We’re not going to clubs for the atmosphere.”

“Admit it,” Alex says. “You a little bit are.”

Jack bites his lip. “Fine, I like the atmosphere,” he admits, more affected than he should be that Alex seems to have picked up on this about him. “And the alcohol. And the chances I’ll meet my future husband, which clearly paid off. Zack will never admit it, but I’m pretty sure he likes trying to set me up with random people in clubs.”

Alex laughs. “He set you up with me?”

“Oh yeah,” Jack says. “He wingmanned me hard. You can thank him in your vows.”

This only serves to make Alex laugh harder. “I’ll thank him now,” he says with a grin. Taking his cue, Jack grabs his shot glass. Alex does the same. “To Zack.”

“To Zack!” Jack cheers, and they both down their shots.

“Me?”

Jack whirls around and trips straight into Zack. “Zack!” he says brightly. “We toasted you.”

“I heard,” Zack says. “Why, exactly?”

“I’m Alex,” says Alex, holding out a hand. Zack shakes it. “Apparently you set us up?”

“Oh,” Zack says. “I wouldn’t really say that. I just kind of pointed Jack in this direction. If you can put up with him, that’s all you.”

“I was gonna come find you anyway,” Jack says. “We’re doing tequila shots. Next round on me.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Zack says. “Count me in.”

They can’t come up with a toast for their second round so they just knock it back with an ambiguous cheer; then Zack offers to buy another, and Jack’s not about to refuse. It’s starting to hit just right, so he’s buzzed but not incoherent. All his most brilliant ideas come in this state.

Case in point: as Maisie is pouring them their third round, Jack suddenly says, “Maisie! Do a shot with us!”

Maisie looks up and laughs. “I’m not supposed to drink on the job,” she says.

“It’s not drinking, it’s bonding,” Jack insists.

“Yeah, we’re forming lasting friendships,” Alex jumps in.

Zack looks entertained. “You guys know each other?”

“As of half an hour ago, yes,” Maisie says.

“Maisie here helped me guess Alex’s middle name,” Jack explains. “Which is William. Like the prince.”

“I feel like I missed so much,” Zack says, half to himself. He shrugs and nods at Maisie. “One shot. On me. For Jack. We won’t tell.”

Maybe it’s because Zack is buff and has cool tattoos or just has good vibes or whatever, but Maisie hesitates only a second before inclining her head. “Just one, and no blabbing,” she says, meeting all of their eyes in turn. Everyone nods solemnly, and Maisie discreetly pours herself a fourth shot.

“Hell yes!” Jack whoops as they all take a shot glass. “To Maisie!”

“To Maisie!” Everyone echoes, including Maisie with a wry grin.

The third shot goes down smoother than the first two. Jack swallows his easily, as does Alex. Maisie puckers her face a bit. Zack has zero reaction, because Zack’s just kinda like that.

“While I’m here, I was hoping to get another beer,” Zack says.

“On it,” Maisie says immediately, giggling. “Thanks for the shot, boys. You’ve kept me far more entertained tonight than my usual shift provides.”

“You can give a toast at our wedding,” Jack says to her. Zack’s eyes widen a little, Alex snorts, and Maisie laughs.

“I’d be honored,” she says. “Back to work now. You need anything, let me know.”

“Seriously, Jack?”

“What?” Jack gives Zack an innocent smile. He pats Zack on the cheek. “Don’t worry, sugar, you can give a toast too.”

Alex laughs. Zack stares at him and shakes his head. “You’re insane,” he says, but he says that roughly twice a day so he’s still below his quota. “I’ll leave you two alone. Come find me when you wanna go. If…” He eyes Alex. “...Just…yeah.”

And with these eloquent words, he disappears with his beer into the crowd.

“I like him,” Alex announces.

“Me too,” Jack says. He turns back to Alex. “Back to the dance floor?”

“Get out of my brain,” Alex says. “I’d like to see your drunken running man.”

“It is gonna blow your fucking mind,” Jack promises, and Alex laughs again.

*

They’re not even being gross like everyone else. Alex has pulled Jack into an exaggerated tango performed mostly with missteps when it happens: someone shoves them aside as they walk past, and Alex loses his balance and falls into Jack, who just barely manages to catch them both. He doesn’t manage to stop his arm from winding around Alex’s waist. To be fair, he doesn’t try very hard.

Jack’s first thought is homophobe, but then he spots the offender, lumbering off with heavy footfalls, and it’s Burly Guy from earlier. The guy who tried and failed to pick Alex up.

All of this registers as Alex slowly regains his footing. “Damn, who pissed in that dude’s Cheerios?”

“It’s the guy from before who tried to buy you a drink,” Jack says, pointing at his back.

Alex whips his head around. “Seriously? Asshole.”

Jack chooses not to observe that from his vantage point, being shoved close together is hardly a dick move. In intent, sure, but not in actuality; Jack’s enjoying the proximity a great deal. Like, a lot.

Like, his hand is still on Alex’s hip, subtly keeping Alex close, and Alex has his arm around Jack’s shoulders from their dance and he’s not moving, either.

“Yeah,” Jack says. They’d already been on the outskirts and now they’re off to the side of everyone, wallflowers.

Alex breathes a laugh and looks back at Jack. He doesn’t step back or even lean away, even though their faces are too close to be friendly now. Jack hadn’t really been expecting friendly, but they’ve been tightrope-walking between sides, and if neither of them breaks this up then they’ll be irreversibly left on one end.

Jack has no intention of moving away. He likes this end of the tightrope. For all he cares, they could cut the tightrope and free-fall together.

“You’re pretty good at bad tango-ing,” Alex says, reaching up to brush away the sweaty fringe that’s clinging to his forehead.

Jack grins. “Well, you know what they say. It takes two.”

Alex kisses him so suddenly that Jack almost loses his balance.

*

He tastes like tequila. That’s all Jack gets before they’re not kissing anymore. The room feels quiet and then unforgivably loud the next second, and Alex is flushed and smiling nervously, and Jack is smiling too, not nervous at all.

“Did I tell you I’m in a band?” Alex asks in a rush.

Jack’s brain struggles to keep up. He can’t remember Alex mentioning a band, but he’s also distracted by wanting to kiss Alex again. There’s no understating the power of wanting to kiss someone over failing to clock anything they say. “What?”

“I’m in a band,” Alex says. “Not as a job, just like, for fun.”

“Oh,” says Jack.

“I’m the lead singer,” Alex says, with a flickering look down at Jack’s shirt.

“Oh,” says Jack, because, like, oh. “Can I kiss you again?”

“What, here?” Alex meets his eyes. “With all these people around?”

“You kissed me first,” Jack says. “Let me kiss you and then we can call it even.”

“Okay,” Alex says, and Jack’s kissing him before the word’s really out of his mouth.

And he tastes like tequila and mango and sugar and the color yellow and the sweat of the dance floor and God, it’s good. It’s like kissing a memory, except this memory is still here, not frozen in time, not trapped in an ornate frame. He’s creating a memory that he knows he’ll relive for the rest of his life.

Somehow, though he doesn’t know the end of this chapter, he knows the end of the book.

Alex’s warm palm cradling Jack’s cheek to hold him steady, fingers splayed out like a star; Alex’s other hand grazing skin over the collar of Jack’s shirt. Alex singing Coldplay in Jack’s ear. Alex’s blue jeans and his checkered Vans and his ridiculous One Direction tank top. Alex holding Jack’s hand and calling him honey to get Burly Guy to leave him alone. Grinning as he shoots down guess after guess for the elusive middle name. Laughing at Jack’s stupid dance moves. Knocking back a shot like it’s nothing. Smiling when Jack says they’re going to get married, never moving away, only ever closer.

Alex sitting undisturbed at the bar, ankles crossed, and Jack seeing him from across the room like something out of a goddamn Hallmark movie and just knowing.

He tugs Alex closer but Alex is already pulling away with a smile. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah,” Jack says. He smoothes a hand over a crease in Alex’s shirt and nods. “Taxi’s on me if we go back to your place.”

“Sucker, I was gonna suggest that anyway,” Alex says with a quiet laugh. “You should tell Zack. Don’t wanna just leave him.”

“Don’t worry,” Jack says. “He knows.”

“He knows?”

“Zack and I are brothers in clairvoyance,” Jack says. “How many times do I have to tell you this?”

“I knew you could see the future,” Alex says. “You never told me Zack could, too.”

“Zack can see everyone’s future,” says Jack. “I can only see mine.”

“Yeah? What’s your future look like now?”

Jack filters out several inappropriate comments. It’s hard when Alex is smirking, clearly baiting him. “I told you,” he says. “You, me, vows, rings, the works.”

“Not that future,” Alex says. “I’m talking about the immediate one.”

It takes everything in Jack not to get down on one knee and say so was I. There’s a tilt in Alex’s head, like a dog listening carefully for a familiar sound.

“Honestly?” Jack says, and Alex nods. “I think it’s more fun if we find out together.”

[haught-n-cold-gay]

“it’d be easier if i hated you”

a wynonna earp fic you can read here on a03

summary: 

“Thought I’d visit my favorite sexy ex-enemy.” Rosita smiled as they pulled apart until she saw Wynonna’s face up close. Her eyebrows furrowed before she reached out and gently touched her cheek. “Are you sleeping? Eating?” “Who are you, my mom?” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a brat, Earp.” Wynonna gasped playfully. “Me? Never.” _._._

Wynonna can't help but visit Rosita in the nunnery. She doesn't know why she keeps seeing her or talking to her or why she wants to kiss her, but she's willing to figure it out.

part  i

“Thanks for saving my ass.”

Wynonna let out a soft, almost embarrassed, chuckle. “It’d be a shame not to.”

A smile flashed across Rosita’s annoyingly perfect face and for a moment, Wynonna swore that Rosita was looking at her, like really looking at her, and she felt the urge to reiterate her promise that she was going to get her out of there, no matter what. Even if she was going to be stuck surrounded by horny nuns.

“Wynonna…” Rosita closed the space between them, forcing time to freeze as their eyes locked. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

She felt the warmth radiate off of the gorgeous woman and nodded stiffly, not wanting to admit to her that she hadn’t been ‘okay’ in a long time. Maybe ever. She didn’t even know the feeling. Not really.

“I’ve got my trusty gun again, so…”

Rosita raised her eyebrows. “You’re more than your gun, Wynonna. You always have been.”

Wynonna broke the eye-contact. She had to. She had told herself for so long that being the Heir made her something. Made her worthy. Made her a hero. Losing her gun made her feel like she was nothing. And here Rosita was telling her that she was more than the gun.

“Hey.” Rosita grabbed her hand and pulled her even closer (God, Wynonna couldn’t ignore how good she smelled) and whispered, “I’m here if you need me. Literally. I can’t leave. Come by anytime.”

Wynonna swallowed the lump in her throat and looked down at her hand that was being held by Rosita’s. She didn’t want to cry, not in front of her.

“I’ve got to go,” she breathed out, unable to even glance at her as she pulled her hand away. “Keep that fine ass of yours safe for me, alright?”

Rosita snorted and muttered under her breath, “this ass is yours if you want it.”

Wynonna pretended she didn’t hear that. She just ran toward the celestial green light, never looking back. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She didn’t know what she would do if she did.

part ii

One week later.

Wynonna didn’t know why she was back so soon. She didn’t have a solution for Rosita (she barely had the chance to tell the team about Rosita and the situation the ex-Revenant was in), but here she was. Dark circles under her eyes and demons screaming inside of her, she walked into the nunnery she spent the last few days trying to find through her sister’s copious notes about the buildings on the edge of Purgatory since there wasn’t a mystical green light to transport her there.

At first, Wynonna thought that Rosita was missing amidst the group of nuns, but then she heard her laugh. Wynonna did a double-take. Rosita was in the center of the cluster of nuns, wearing the tunic or robe or whatever the hell nuns wear.

The Heir gulped. She was severely startled by how Rosita in the nun outfit was doing things to her (then again, Rosita could probably wear anything and it’d do things to her). Her mouth felt a little dry and she tried to take a deep breath and remind herself of the real reason why she was here. The only problem was: she didn’t know why the fuck she was here.

“Wynonna? You’re here!” Rosita shouted and pushed past a bunch of annoyed looking nuns. She was running at her and Wynonna’s heart just pounded faster and faster until Rosita’s arms were wrapped around her and Wynonna could breathe her in. And truth was, Wynonna couldn’t remember the last time she was hugged and felt warm.

“Thought I’d visit my favorite sexy ex-enemy.”

Rosita smiled as they pulled apart until she saw Wynonna’s face up close. Her eyebrows furrowed before she reached out and gently touched her cheek.

“Are you sleeping? Eating?”

“Who are you, my mom?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a brat, Earp.”

Wynonna gasped playfully. “Me? Never.”

Rosita punched her shoulder lightly, as if she realized that Wynonna was not willing to talk about whatever was going on with her. “Okay, Ms. Sarcasm.”

“Besides, you’re one to talk. You look like a nun.”

“Well, I do live in a nunnery. And it’s not like there are clothes for me to wear. Want to head to my room?”

Wynonna’s eyes widened, completely out of surprise. “Your room? Are you a dessert before dinner kinda gal?”

“Totally, but I was just thinking of a place we could talk where we won’t be heard.” She nodded toward the group of huddled nuns who were watching them like freaky hawks. Wynonna shivered. Nuns had always freaked her out, but this was even scarier.

“Right, show me the way, m’lady.” Wynonna mentally hit herself for acting so dorky. She’d never consider herself a Shakespeare, but she normally wasn’t an idiotic geek. She coughed and tried to shake away any weird feelings.

(And she tried really hard to not look at Rosita’s ass in the nun outfit as she followed her to the weapon room they killed that fucking demon nun.) (She failed.)

“So… you have your own room? Kinda thought you’d be all in one room, orgy parties every night.”

Rosita closed the door to her ‘bedroom’ and laughed. “We don’t have orgy parties every night. They like being all together and I… need my space, you know?”

The room was still filled with weapons, but in the middle of the room there was a small mattress, a few blankets, and a pillow. It was a nicer situation than Wynonna’s.

“I definitely do know. It’s why I’m living in a damn barn.”

Rosita flopped onto the mattress, grinning as she tried to land in a ‘sexy’ position. “So I’ve got better digs?”

Wynonna couldn’t help but laugh at whatever the fuck Rosita was doing. “Considering you live in a nunnery, I’m not so sure. Living with an engaged couple and teenager versus judgy nuns. Now that’s a conundrum.”

Rosita raised her eyebrows. “Engaged, huh? Waverly and Nicole are tying the knot?”

Wynonna was trying to read her tone. “Hard feelings?”

She cringed and crinkled her nose. “Waverly told you?”

“About your drunken kiss of shame? Yeppers.” She grinned at her, noticing the embarrassment flooding her face. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Seriously. She and Haught totally made up and all that good shit. Obvs, they’re getting hitched. Besides, kissing someone you’re not supposed to is kinda my thang. So no judgment coming from me.”

“And you and Doc?”

That was the absolute last thing she wanted to talk about. Not because Rosita and Doc were a thing, but because Doc had left her. He was ‘disappointed’ in her. As if she needed more fucking shame in her goddamn life.

“I’m not good enough for him,” she finally confessed, in more of a whisper than she had intended it to be. “Even with Alice, I’m not enough.”

Rosita opened her mouth but then closed it. She moved over to one side of the mattress and patted the empty side. “C’mere.”

“What?” She let out a nervous chuckle and crossed her arms.

Rosita narrowed her eyes at her. “I’m not going to rip your clothes off, Wynonna, unless you want me to. C’mon. Lay with me.”

Wynonna gaped at her slightly, a little bewildered by what was happening. She thought about turning around and leaving, but it had been a long time since someone wanted to be near her. Wanted to comfort her. Okay, maybe that wasn’t true. Waverly was always there to do those things. But this was different and Wynonna couldn’t tell why.

Ignoring all the warning bells going off in her head, she slowly made her way toward the mattress and sat down on it. It was awkward as fuck. Too awkward. Rosita placed a hand on Wynonna’s back and she flinched away from her touch like the ex-Revenant’s fingers were scorching. She stood up suddenly, feeling the urge to throw up.

“Wynonna… I’m sorry…”

“No, I’m sorry.” She started to walk backward, back toward the door. “I… have to go. I just remembered, I need to be somewhere.”

“I—okay. I can walk you out—”

“I’m good,” Wynonna shouted and escaped as fast as possible, practically running out of the room and out to the exit. The felt stupid running, but she couldn’t imagine being inside of there for another second.

part iii

Three weeks later.

She was fucking back. With bags in her hand. And whiskey. Fuck.

She had come to the entrance of the nunnery more than nine times in the last three weeks, but she just couldn’t walk inside. She wanted to, she wanted to apologize for being a fucking weirdo, but she couldn’t get her feet to move.

(For a week she had even convinced herself she couldn’t step inside because she was so unholy, so full of sin.)

It was late and she had already been standing outside for a ridiculous amount of time. She was turning into an icicle, but she still couldn’t get her feet working. It was fucked up, she knew. She didn’t even know why she kept coming back, why she even went to see Rosita three weeks ago, why she had reacted so terribly to her touch. Nobody seemed to want to touch her anymore. Not Waverly (who was spending all her time with Nicole), not Jeremy (who was obsessed with planning the Wayhaught wedding), not Rachel (who had been looking at her strangely ever since she found out she killed Holt), and definitely Doc (who avoided her like the plague). And yet when Rosita wanted to touch her…

“Fuck it.”

Wynonna opened the large door to find Rosita sitting there in the last pew, right in front of her.

“I was wondering if you were ever going to enter.”

Shit. “You saw me out there?”

Rosita tilted her head, her ponytail swinging along with it. “I saw you come and go for the last three weeks. It’s like when someone texts you and you see little dots come and go. I thought you were going to leave me on read.”

Wynonna snorted as if it was crazy (it wasn’t). “Definitely wasn’t going to ghost you.”

Rosita hummed. “Sure. What’s in the bags?”

The Heir furrowed her eyebrows. “You’re not going to ask why I didn’t come inside for three weeks?”

She smirked at her. “Do you want me to ask you why you didn’t come inside for three weeks?”

“Fuck no.” Wynonna sniffled and held up the bags for her. “Clothes for you. Y’know. So you don’t have to keep wearing the nun uniform.”

“You don’t think it’s sexy?” Rosita stood up and did a little twirl for her in the aisle.

Wynonna’s eyes were glued to Rosita’s body and she felt heat pool around her body. “You know I find you frustratingly sexy. So if you don’t want the clothes…”

Rosita grabbed the bags from Wynonna’s hands. “This thing is fucking itchy.”

Catching Wynonna off-guard, the woman started ripping the robe off until she was only in her bra and underwear. Wynonna didn’t even have the chance to turn around (not that she wanted to) and blushed furiously when Rosita asked her: “like what you see?” Somehow, it got worse when Rosita put on the clothes.

“Are these your clothes?” Rosita inspected the ripped black jeans and cropped Blondie t-shirt. “They smell like you.”

Wynonna was a little breathless as she looked at Rosita wearing her clothes. She thought it was a good idea at the time, but this was driving her crazy seeing her like this. She couldn’t stop looking her up and down, imagining her own hands all over her and—

She cleared her throat. “Well, I wasn’t going to spend money.”

Rosita snorted. “I appreciate it.”

Wynonna shrugged like it was no big (it was a huge deal). “I brought whiskey.”

“You know how to please a girl. Do you mind if we head to the bedroom? The others aren’t really thrilled at the idea of drinking. For being wild in the sack they’re pretty lame about everything else.”

The thought of going back into that room sent chills down Wynonna’s spine, but she didn’t say anything. She wanted to get over herself. Get over whatever the fuck that happened in that room that sent her over the edge.

Rosita seemed to notice her nerves since she left the door open when they got in the weaponry room and sat down on the floor, not on the unkempt bed in the middle of the floor. It helped Wynonna breathe easier.

Once she sat down a good five feet away from her ex-enemy, the Heir pulled the whiskey out of her pocket and took a swig. It didn’t calm her down as much as she thought it would, but it was a good start. She passed it off to Rosita who took a good sip.

“Tell me everything that happened after I left,” Rosita commanded suddenly and passed the bottle back to her.

“You mean after you tried to kidnap my baby?” Wynonna was still bitter, even if she did forgive her.

Rosita chewed her lip guiltily. “Yeah, after that.”

That was a bad time. Not all of it, but most of it. She didn’t know what Rosita wanted to hear. It wasn’t like she could tell her how hard it was to send Alice away and how darkness started to become her comfort zone. How she could barely get out of bed. How it only got worse when Dolls died and she realized she probably loved him (and that he probably loved her more than anyone else ever would or could).

So instead, she stuck to things that were easy to talk about.

“Waverly and Nicole got closer, obviously. Jeremy fell in love with this guy who is gone now, for reasons that Jeremy won’t get into. I ended the Earp curse and got stuck in a garden, losing a year and a half of my life.” Wynonna drank.

Rosita frowned. “Dolls?”

“Dead.”

She lowered her head and shook it. “I’m so sorry, Wynonna. I know how much you two cared about each other.”

“Yeah, well. That’s what happens when you care about me.”

“Stop,” Rosita told her intensely. “We both know BBD killed Dolls.”

Wynonna shrugged (knowing that Rosita was right but didn’t want to admit it—she liked to wallow in self-pity from time to time). “I feel like I’m a walking catastrophe. It’s why I had to send Alice away. Being around me—”

“You mean being around your life? You got fucked with the whole ‘heir’ thing. Your life is dangerous because of your curse and the town you live in. It’s not you.”

Wynonna felt the tears bubble up. “But what if it is me?”

Rosita sighed. “But what if it isn’t? C’mon. Tell me about the good things. The funny things. The things that keep you going. I’m barely living here, so I need to live through something. C’mon. Tell me one good thing.”

Wynonna knew Rosita was trying to guilt-trip her into telling her something that would make her feel better, but she told her the first thing that came to her mind anyway. “Haught… she’s my best friend, apparently. My first best friend. She’s my best friend even though I told a huge gnome man to marry her instead of me.”

“You didn’t want to marry a gnome? That’s shocking. Please, tell me more. How did this gnome find you? Was he at least cute?”

A freaking smile emerged from Wynonna’s lips. She hadn’t really smiled in the last couple of weeks. It felt weird, but good. She didn’t know if she deserved to feel good, but around Rosita, she felt like she lost control.

So, when Rosita begged her to continue, she did. And after that, Rosita told her something funny about her time on the rocks. And after that, they just swapped stories until Wynonna’s eyes drooped and the ex-Revenant advised her to go home.

And that’s just what Wynonna did. But as she went home, the only thing she could think about was how she just wanted to stay.

part iv

Three days later.

When Wynonna opened the doors, she didn’t hesitate this time. Three nights ago was the best night she had in weeks. Maybe even months. Even if that meant being around Rosita brought up emotions she had been trying to push down.

She had another bag with her today. Food. And when she entered, the nuns darted toward her. Wynonna quickly realized that bringing food was probably not a smart thing to do. She had to zigzag through the group of nuns and headed for Rosita’s bedroom. She knocked on the door and hoped, definitely didn’t pray, that she wouldn’t be walking in on a sex fest.

Wynonna didn’t know if she was glad or not that Rosita was all clothed when she opened the door. Rosita was wearing one of her baggy t-shirts she gave her, with a Velvet Revolver album on the front.

“You’re back and no three week wait? What did I do to deserve this?”

Wynonna held up the bag of food. “I’m not sure, I almost just got mauled by a bunch of fucking nuns.”

Rosita moved aside so that the other woman could enter her room. “They are ruthless. You brought me food? Is this a date, Wynonna Earp?”

Wynonna blushed at Rosita’s smirk (she didn’t know why she was suddenly starting to get flushed when she never had before). “I don’t go on dates.”

“You brought me food looking like that. It’s a date.”

Wynonna looked down at her outfit, confused. She was wearing her normal half see-through shirt and leather pants. She would have worn this even if she wasn’t going to see Rosita. Probably. Okay, maybe she put on the shirt just before she left, but…

“You’re acting like you don’t know that you’re totally hot. Okay, fine, be humble, Wynonna Earp. But owning up to your sexiness is definitely more attractive.”

Her heart raced, but she tried to reign herself in. “Eat the food I bought you, idiot.”

“Happily, Wynonna,” Rosita said and grabbed the bag out of her hand. She started to rummage through the bags until she looked up at the Heir and smiled. “Breakfast, huh? You really know the way to a girl’s heart.”

“I got pancakes and waffles. Didn’t know which one you’d like, so I just—”

“If you don’t have a preference, we can just share them.” Rosita sat down onto the ground and started to pull the boxes out of the bag like they were going to have a picnic. “Are you going to eat with me or are you just going to stand there and watch?”

Wynonna chewed her cheek. She came here with food, so she didn’t know why she was so surprised that Rosita was wanting to eat with her. She came here wanting to spend time with her, knowing it was easier to spend time with her than it was to spend time with anyone else, but she wasn’t quite expecting for Rosita to welcome her with open arms. She was spinning with absolute confusion.

“Earp, sit your ass down.”

She swallowed it. All her fucking fear. And sat down.

“Are you going to leave any syrup for me?” Wynonna asked her, trying to be playful because it was easier than being anything else with Rosita.

“I am no syrup hog,” Rosita stated and passed her the tub of syrup and watched carefully as Wynonna poured it all over her pancake and waffle. “But I have a suspicion that you are.”

Wynonna gasped dramatically. “No, I’m not! I use the right amount of syrup.”

“I can literally hear your waffle and pancake screaming because they’re drowning right now.”

“Oh, please. This is the normal amount of syrup need—holy motherfucking shit, dude! You put butter on your pancakes?”

Rosita raised an eyebrow. “Um, doesn’t everyone?”

“No! Everyone does not! Butter tastes like nothing with syrup on it.”

“Yeah, it probably doesn’t taste like anything when you drown your pancakes in syrup! I’m sure butter would taste like nothing for you.”

Wynonna shook her head, completely astonished. “You are a monster, Rosita Bustillos.”

“Correction, Wynonna Earp, I used to be a monster. Now I’m just a lame old mortal human who can’t step outside of church without completely disappearing and heading to Hell for the entire rest of my existence.”

Wynonna gaped at her slightly. She had tried so hard to keep things light and fun. She should have known that too much had happened to each other for things to not get heavy. They were two very cursed women with very cursed lives. Destined to be enemies, but here they were, sharing pancakes and waffles.

“Even without the curse, you think you’re going to hell?”

Rosita looked down at her food and shrugged. “Might be living in a nunnery, Earp, but there’s nothing about me that’s saint-like.”

“Eh, saintliness is overrated.”

She looked up and stared into Wynonna’s eyes. “There should be a different place for people like us. Good people who have done shitty things to survive. Or in your case, to keep your loved ones alive.”

Suddenly, the food felt like sludge in her stomach. “We already live in Purgatory, Rosita.”

“I know,” she muttered and shook her head. “I’m just saying.”

Wynonna nodded. “I know.”

Rosita bit her lip. “You don’t belong in hell, Wynonna.”

“Neither do you.”

Rosita raised her eyebrows as if she was surprised that Wynonna would ever say such a thing. “Well, then, fuck it. Let’s become some goddamn ghosts and haunt this place. Scare nuns for the rest of our existence.”

A snort fell out of Wynonna’s lips. “You would spend the rest of your existence with me? You don’t even know if I snore.”

“You are so much better than all the Revenants I’ve had to spend eternities with. Besides, the kind of shit we’d get into? It’d be fun. And besides, you’re not terrible being around. We could make it work, don’t you think?”

Wynonna couldn’t stop gaping at her. Rosita was smiling slightly, like this imaginary future of the two of them made her actually excited and warm (in the same way that the Heir was impossibly feeling). And in that moment, Wynonna remembered. Remembered that Rosita was beautiful. Not just sexy and hot desireable, but beautiful. She had noticed when she met Rosita for the first time at the bar. Rosita wasn’t just this amazingly sexy and smart person, she was kind and bright and filled Wynonna up with feelings she hadn’t recognized. For a long time, she thought it was jealousy. But now…

She pushed it down. In the long run, it didn’t matter if Wynonna loved Rosita’s smile and her laugh and the way she could make Wynonna do both of those things with only a few words or look. Because this, whatever the fuck this was, she was sure that Rosita didn’t look at her the same way. Rosita couldn’t. She knew this better than she knew anything. No one ever looked at her that way. Except maybe Dolls (but that didn’t end well for anyone).

She cleared her throat. “Yeah, maybe. I’d have to return to the homestead in my ghost form to check out my sister’s kids and grandkids. Make sure they don’t have sticks up their asses.”

Rosita snickered. “Waverly and Nicole might be the most overprotective parents in the world.”

“Those poor kids.”

“Lucky, though.”

“The luckiest.”

As if Rosita somehow knew Wynonna’s mind was now on Alice, she said, “I never thought I wanted kids. I mean, it was a typical thing for women to do but I… I didn’t want them. Until I couldn’t have them.”

Wynonna’s heart broke. “When you became a Revenant.”

“Yep. All because of fucking Wyatt Earp. No offense.”

She shook her head. “I know he’s a dick, don’t worry about it.”

Rosita smiled softly. “I’m going to change the subject right now. Tell me. What shows have I missed standing on a rock and living in a nunnery?”

The Heir was incredibly happy for the change in subject. “Apparently there’s this new show everyone’s been talking about, Fleabag. Still haven’t seen it yet. Still catching up on Lucifer.”

“Now that’s one cast I would like to smash,” Rosita joked through mouthfuls of waffle. “But only as their characters.”

“You’re talking about Maze, aren’t you?”

“Hell yeah,” Rosita said and winked. “But also Amenadiel. Angels do it for me, I don’t know why. Okay, why is your face like that?”

Wynonna was cringing hard. “I may or may not have banged an angel.”

Rosita dropped her fork. “An angel? A literal feather-covered wings angel?”

“To be fair, I didn’t know he was an angel at the time. I just thought he was a normal firefighter!”

“No one is ‘normal’ in Purgatory, Wy.”

Wynonna groaned. “I know. I haven’t even told you the worst part.”

Rosita smirked devilishly. “Ooh, good. Tell me.”

“Well…” Wynonna hated that she put herself in this position, though she was almost fairly certain Rosita would be the last person to judge her. “Once again, I had no idea, but he was… Waverly’s dad.”

Rosita’s eyebrows jumped. “So… he…”

“Screwed my mother, yes. But while we were together he, like, had no memory of it. So like, he wasn’t being creepy or anything. He legit had no idea at the time. But yep, he was Waverly’s dad.”

Rosita sighed. “Wow. I missed so much. So Waverly is a half angel. Okay, not as surprising as I thought. Makes a lot of sense.”

“Yeah, I mean she was always the ‘good’ Earp, so it—”

“You’re a good Earp, too, Wynonna.” Rosita interrupted with her serious face on. “To be honest, you might be the first good Earp.”

Wynonna rapidly shook her head. “That’s not true. I have fucked things up.”

“I’m not going to argue about this with you. I’ve met all the Earps since Wyatt. They were all pretty terrible. Especially your father.”

She tensed up. Talking about the sins of Wyatt Earp was a lot easier to talk about than the sins of her father. He wasn’t someone she liked to talk about (or think about). Not just because the most traumatic moment of her life was his death. She just didn’t have anything good to say about him (most of her memories of him were bad).

“He was a bastard.”

Rosita nodded as if she knew what Wynonna wasn’t saying. “You deserved better than him. All kids do. Mine was… I was really lucky that he died when I was young. Best thing that happened to my mother.”

Wynonna tried to skip over the fact that she and Rosita seemed like they had similar fathers and said, “I’ve got mommy issues, too, so…”

“I’m sure you do. Who doesn’t? Can I ask you a question, though?”

“Shoot.”

“Why do you keep seeing me? I mean, I’m very pleased that you brought me clothes and dinner and we’re having all these conversations, but you didn’t want to get to know me at all years ago. Actually, I was pretty sure you hated me. Even before I pulled the shittiest move of all time.”

She opened her mouth, a little surprised that Rosita finally voiced how weird it was that they were becoming borderline friends. She didn’t know how to answer. She didn’t know why she kept showing up with stuff as excuses. She didn’t know why she spent all of her days wishing she was with Rosita (though she kept trying to push that thought far far away).

“I don’t know.”

Rosita frowned slightly. “I don’t mind. Seriously, Wynonna. Every time you come, it really cheers me up. You’re—you make me happy. Wow, that came out really fucking cringy, but it’s true. I just don’t want you to think that you have to come see me. I don’t want this to be out of pity, you know?”

“I’m not coming to you out of pity,” Wynonna breathed out, avoiding Rosita’s eyes as much as she could. “Believe me, Rosita, I’m not that nice.”

“So… you’re here because…”

Wynonna shivered and placed her food back in the bag. “Because I don’t know! You’re like the one person I can handle being around right now! I don’t know what else to say!”

“Hey,” Rosita grabbed Wynonna’s hand as she tried to pack everything up, “don’t do that. It’s okay. It’s totally okay. I won’t interrogate you any further. It’s fine.”

Wynonna clenched her teeth together. She wanted to keep her cool. Pretend like she was here because it was something to do. She didn’t want Rosita to know how much spending time with her meant, how it was keeping her going when she felt like she just wanted it all to stop. She wanted to pretend like nothing Rosita said or did affected her.

Wynonna pulled her hand away sharply.

“Shit, I fucked things up, didn’t I?” Rosita asked, worry drowning her voice. “Please, let’s change the topic. Please. We can talk about anything else.”

Wynonna felt sick. She wanted to be able to talk about something else—anything else—but her mind was swarming with thoughts she couldn’t control when she normally could. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t say anything but she couldn’t quite move either. She was frozen. Paralyzed.  

“Wynonna…”

“I can’t—” her throat felt so dry, so dry. “I can’t—I need to leave.”

She stumbled as she stood up. Blood rushed to her head and for a second, she thought her dizziness would send her to the ground, but Rosita had gotten a hold of her. The ex-Revenant was holding her up, unwilling to let her fall.

Wynonna was trembling, but she was held tight. She didn’t want to enjoy it, Rosita’s embrace. She hated that the ex-Revenant was stronger than her. Wynonna hadn’t been sleeping, hadn’t been eating. She had been feeling weak for a long time. And as much as she hated it, it felt nice being held.

Rosita smelled like a burning candle. Cinnamon.

“You don’t need to leave,” Rosita whispered into her ear. “You can stay. Please, stay. I don’t want you to go out like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’ll fall apart if I let you go.”

Wynonna scoffed quietly. “I won’t fall apart.”

“Okay.”

“I won’t.”

“Okay.”

Rosita still hadn’t let go. And even though all the warning bells were going off in her head, Wynonna didn’t make her. She just let it all happen.

She let Rosita hold her until their arms became numb. She let Rosita drag her to the mattress. She let Rosita tenderly place her on the bed and wrap her up in blankets. She let Rosita wrap her arms around her. She let Rosita breathe into her neck, her skin. She let Rosita trace circles around her hands.

“I really hope one day you can tell me what’s going on,” Rosita told her as Wynonna began to feel drowsy. “I’m here. No matter what, I’m here.”

She let Rosita embrace her until she fell asleep.

part v

Six hours later.

Nicole was blue. Blue and dead. Dead and blue. Wynonna was screaming for help, but no one could hear her. No one could see Nicole’s dead body in the tub. She was dead and there was nothing she could do. She blinked and the body was Waverly. She blinked and the body was Rachel. She blinked and the body was Jeremy. She blinked and the body was Doc. She blinked and the body was Rosita. She blinked and the body was Alice.

She woke up breathless in a cold sweat. Rosita was already all over her, asking if she was okay, asking if she could do anything. She just shook her head and sat up. She felt like throwing up, but she swallowed the bile.

“I need to get home,” Wynonna muttered, her voice hoarse and so wrong sounding. She scrambled up from the bed and said, “I have to—I need to make sure they’re okay.”  

“Okay,” Rosita said and started helping Wynonna get her things together. “I get it. But maybe you should call your sister. I don’t think you should leave like—”

“I’ll be fine,” Wynonna stated firmly. Rosita looked unsatisfied with that answer. “I’m fine, Rosie, I promise.”

Rosita raised her eyebrows at the nickname, but didn’t say anything. “Okay. Wynonna, please stay safe. Dammit, I wish you could call me when you got home.”

“Fuck, I almost forgot.” Wynonna pulled out the cheap phone she bought and passed it to the other woman. “This is for you.”

Rosita’s eyebrows shot up. “You got me a phone?”

“A burner phone. Don’t get too excited.” She tried to joke, but Rosita looked just as concerned. “I’ll call you. I already programmed my number in there. That way I can text you before I come so I don’t interrupt your sexcapades.”

That seemed to reassure her somewhat. “So you’ll call? When you get home?”

Wynonna’s face softened. “I will. Promise. I’ll see you later, Bustillos.”

She left before giving her the chance to say goodbye back.

part vi

One day later.

Rosita was waiting for her. Wynonna had texted her, telling her she was coming. She had a long day hunting a demon who was feasting on livers. It reminded her of an x-files episode. Or Hannibal Lecter. Either way, it ended up with her asking for Doc’s help, who she found shacked up with Amon at the Glory Hole. Wynonna pretended like it wasn’t like a punch to the stomach. Doc and Amon helped and in the end, Wynonna was covered with the demon’s guts. Which was why she showed up to the nunnery after taking seven showers.

“Your hair…” Rosita grinned and reached for Wynonna’s wet hair. “It’s stringy.”

Wynonna pouted. “It’s wet.”

“That’s what she said. Come on, Wynonna. I have food this time. I was able to get this Uber Eats thing on my new phone. I stole a little bit from the collective bank.”

Wynonna gasped dramatically. “You sinner. Right in front of God. Savage.”

“I thought so,” Rosita smirked and started to head toward her room with Wynonna. “I do have to say, the nuns are starting to dislike me.”

The Heir snorted. “Why?”

Rosita lowered her voice. “They don’t like you hanging around.”

“Ah,” Wynonna muttered and closed the door behind them. “They don’t like me taking you away from their sexy times?”

“Probably. Here. I bought tacos. You love them, right? I think I remember you and Waverly having them all the time.”

She held up the bag of food and Wynonna’s mouth watered. “You’re my savior. I deserve a fucking treat. I not only had demon guts all over me, I saw my baby daddy’s tongue in another dude’s mouth.”

Rosita winced. “Ouch. That must hurt. Speaking of, I’m sorry he and I were… you know.”

Wynonna’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you apologizing? Doc tends to want me until he doesn’t. Besides, who wouldn’t want a complete brilliant sexy genius like you?”

She smiled up at her and passed her a taco. “Thanks, but plenty of people. So, how do you feel about Doc being with someone else?”

Wynonna shrugged and took a bite. “It hurt, but it’s happened plenty of times for me to be used to it by now. I just thought… we seemed to be getting somewhere before… but it hurts less than I think it should.”

“What do you mean?”

She didn’t quite know how to explain what she meant. She had been thinking about it a lot. Ever since she had first met with Rosita again.

“Have you ever felt like you’ve… fallen for the idea of a person, or something that they represent, but not the actual person?”

Rosita tilted her head. “I’m not sure if I have, but I understand what you mean.”

“Doc believed in me before anyone else did. And then… and then I had his baby and I… I don’t know.”

“Well,” Rosita grinned at her, her hair falling into her face. “Doc is making the biggest mistake of his whole entire existence. How’s the taco?”

Wynonna felt her cheeks redden with heat. “So much better than when it’s vegan. You are a hero.”

“Ha. It was easy. So, tell me about this demon. Are there that many left in Purgatory?”

Wynonna told Rosita all about the Purgatory that she was still getting used to after being gone for a year and a half. She told her about the turbulent relationship between demons and humans, how there were demons that had a resemblance of class (like Amon) and those that were so hungry for human flesh that they couldn’t help it.

She told her about how Nicole was back as sheriff and that being a part of BBD was weird and felt wrong, especially after what they did to Dolls. She talked about training Rachel, trying to make her into a fighter. She talked about seeing herself in the teenager, but how she also saw Nicole in her. A lot of Nicole in her.

She told her about the Wayhaught wedding planning. How they were planning to have the wedding on Earp land (a little afraid to have it anywhere else and have it interrupted by demons). How Wynonna didn’t know if she was going to be Nicole or Wynonna’s maid or honor/best man. How Jeremy was getting obsessed with all the little details.

Rosita absorbed everything, listening intently to everything she said. Nodding along, asking questions, and laughing at the right moments. Wynonna was surprised to find that she enjoyed telling Rosita things. The good things. And when she was done, she told Rosita to recount her own last few weeks.

When they were done with their tacos and collapsed onto the mattress, Rosita talked about the other nuns and all the gossip that happened between the nuns. She talked about the nuns who fought over her and each other, making Wynonna crack up with laughter. Laughing made her feel lighter, freer. For once like her world wasn’t collapsing beneath her.

“Uh oh. What is this? Wynonna Earp laughing at my stories? Is it possible?” Rosita was on her side, facing Wynonna who was mirroring her.

“Don’t get so full of yourself,” Wynonna joked and smiled, trying her hardest not to pay attention to Rosita’s eyes or her lips or her chest. “I only find you marginally funny. I’m mostly just laughing at you.”

“Nah, Earp. You think I’m funny.”

“Funny looking, maybe. Looks aren’t everything, you know.”

Rosita pursed her lips and let out a breathy chuckle. “You’re a dick, you know that, right? You can’t even admit that you think I’m funny.”

“Why would I do that? It would give you a big head. You’re already gorgeous and brilliant, if you thought you were funny, your ego would just multiply in size.”

Rosita raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You think I’m gorgeous?”

Wynonna rolled her eyes. “As if you didn’t know that.”

“Maybe I just hoped you did.”

Their eyes locked. Wynonna felt her chest pounding and her stomach flutter. For a second, she thought she could drown in Rosita’s eyes. She knew she could do it without any effort. And in that moment, she thought she could kiss her. Taste her. Love her.

No.

Wynonna looked away and laid flat on her back. She didn’t want to see her. She didn’t want to keep looking at her lips or drowning in her eyes. That territory was dangerous. Because what they had here was great. It was easy. It felt good. And there was no way she was going to risk losing it.

“So, what’s the rude nun’s deal? Cecilia? Why is she always glaring at me?”

Rosita paused for a second, like she was debating something else, but then took a deep breath and told Wynonna what exactly her deal was. Back and forth, they continued to talk about meaningless things until they drifted off to sleep.

part vii

Two weeks later.

Wynonna: yo rosita r u sure that cecilia bitch wont hit me when i come inside again

Rosita: come inside what ;)

Wynonna: you’re worse than me

Wynonna: answer the goddamn question

Rosita: don’t worry about her, the others have her under control

Wynonna: good, i’m coming in

Wynonna: don’t you dare make a joke

Wynonna entered the nunnery a little worse for wear. She spent the last week hunting a pack of demons that were working for Cleo. Cleo was not great at being a bad guy, but she was good at finding bad guys to fuck up Wynonna’s life.

At the very least, she was feeling stronger. She had been sleeping (over with Rosita) and had been eating (with Rosita). She had been spending every night with Rosita, eating dinner and falling asleep in her arms. She was just glad that no one living in the homestead had noticed her sneaking away. That was a conversation she did not want to have. They were leaving her alone for the most part ever since Doc ended whatever they were.

When she wasn’t with Rosita, she wished she was with her. She was doing better being around Waverly, Nicole, Rachel, and Jeremy, but their company couldn’t compare to what she felt like around Rosita.

There weren’t even any nuns around when she came in, which was a miracle. Usually, she got horrible stares from them. And then there was Cecilia, who hit her because she was ‘jealous’ of the amount of time Rosita was spending with her. That did not feel great. But it seemed like Rosita had done something to make sure she wasn’t in the presence of any nuns.

“What food did you bring for me today?” Rosita said as she bounced toward Wynonna, all giddy in a way that made Wynonna smile.

“I had a rough day so I have… cake.”

Rosita grinned at her. “And I have forks.”

Wynonna followed Rosita to her room and felt a rush of relief inside. Somehow she felt more at home in a weapon room than she did at her own homestead. She still didn’t know how that happened.

Rosita pulled out the boxed cake and grinned at her. “Chocolate cake. What did I do to deserve such kindness?”

Wynonna snorted. “You are letting me stay in your room most nights.”

“Fair enough. I’d like to think you’d let me stay in your barn if I could.”

Wynonna pretended to wince. “Ooh, you would be living in close proximity to a moody teenager and horny couple, though.”

“Doesn’t sound too terrible to me if you’re around.”  

“You’re a weird one.”

Rosita stuck out her tongue. “Says you. Cake time.”

They were silent for a few minutes as they got into the cake. Wynonna was glad with her decision. She was definitely feeling better.

“So, you said your day was rough? What happened?” Rosita asked between bites of food.

Wynonna shrugged. “Still dealing with the pack of freaking demons. And Doc’s still upset with me because he thinks this wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t—” She couldn’t say it, but Rosita nodded like she understood.

“He’s a fucking hypocrite. You did what you had to do, ‘Nonna, don’t forget that. So… the demons are still out and about?”

“Two down, two to go. The Black Badge weapons aren’t even really helping.”

“Demons be fickle like that,” Rosita joked lightly. “You’ve got a little cake on your nose.”

Wynonna flushed and tried to wipe her nose. “Did I get it?”

“Here, let me,” Rosita whispered and leaned over slowly, very very close to Wynonna’s face. “It’s right… here…”

Wynonna waited for Rosita to wipe her nose (as she ignored how good Rosita smelled), but Rosita just grabbed a handful of cake and slathered it onto Wynonna’s nose. She gasped in complete and utter surprise. She definitely wasn’t expecting that.

“You dick!” Instead of wiping the cake off her nose, she grabbed whatever she could from her nose and threw it at Rosita, landing in her hair. “Got you in your luscious hair.”

Rosita grimaced as she tried to take the cake out of her hair. “My hair!? My hair, Wynonna!? Seriously?”

Wynonna grinned devilishly at her. “Well, as they say, if you really want to hurt someone, you go after what they love the most.”

“It’s on, Wynonna.”

Rosita grabbed a handful of cake and threw it at Wynonna’s shoulder as Wynonna threw a piece at Rosita’s head. It only took a few seconds for it to turn into a fully fledged war. They were laughing and screaming as they aimed cake at each other.

When Rosita hit Wynonna’s jacket, however, was when it became intense. Wynonna jumped on top of her and rubbed a piece of cake all over the top of her head. Rosita winked to catch her off guard before she forced them to roll around so that she was on top. She pinned Wynonna’s wrists to the ground, forcing out a groan from Wynonna.

“I’ve got you now.”

Wynonna’s chest was heaving as heat flowed through her entire body. Rosita was sitting on her, smirking in a way that made the heat throb. Cake was falling off Rosita’s head, but all of her attention was on Rosita’s eyes. It was always on her eyes.

“You do.”

Wynonna blinked and Rosita’s lips were on hers. She was frozen for a second before she kissed her back. She couldn’t help it. Desire fiercely roared through her in a way it really hadn’t before. Besides, Rosita’s lips were soft and gentle and eager and so kissable. Her whole body from head to toe felt like it was tingling. Electric.

Wynonna wanted more. More and more and more and more. She ran her tongue against Rosita’s bottom lip and Rosita obliged. Her tongue was in the other woman’s mouth and at the sound of Rosita’s moan into her mouth, Wynonna almost died on the spot. The heat between her legs was killing her.

“Fuck.”

The sound of Rosita’s voice forced Wynonna to stop. To realize what had happened. To regret everything. She easily pushed Rosita off of her and quickly stood up. Rosita looked at her with such confusion, such hurt that it nearly broke Wynonna’s heart that very second.

“What’s wrong?” Rosita asked, her voice so quiet, so terrified.

Tears were falling from Wynonna’s eyes. Rosita thought she was rejecting her, which wasn’t the case at all. Instead, Wynonna was stopping things before Rosita had the chance to reject her. She knew it would inevitably happen. It always did.

“This was wrong! You weren’t supposed to kiss me!”

Rosita started crying too. “Why? I thought you wanted me, too!”

“I…” she did want her. She wanted Rosita more than she had ever wanted anybody. And that was fucking terrifying. “It doesn’t matter. You ruined this, Rosita! You were my person and you… you ruined this.”

“I’m sorry!” Rosita choked out as she reached for Wynonna’s hand, but she just pulled away and started walking backward toward the door. “I’m so sorry. Just please stay. Let’s talk about it. Please, Wynonna. Let’s talk about it.”

Wynonna shook her head rapidly. She couldn’t stay and watch Rosita cry. She couldn’t stay and watch as everything was falling apart. She wouldn’t do that to herself. She wouldn’t do that to Rosita.

“I have to go.”

Wynonna, with her lips still numb, turned around and headed for the door as fast as she could.

“Please stay, Wynonna!” Rosita shouted suddenly, stopping Wynonna in her tracks. “Don’t do this, ‘Nonna! Stay with me!”

Wynonna bit her numb lips, drawing blood. “I can’t.”

Rosita didn’t chase her out of the room. She didn’t know what she would have done if Rosita had followed her out. She just had to get out of there. She just had to get out of there. She just had to get out of there.

part viii

Three hours later.

Rosita: wynonna, please answer your phone, i’ve called you 3 times

Rosita: please wynonna

Rosita: you’re worrying me

Rosita: please, let’s just talk about this

Rosita: i’d fucking come to you if i could

Six hours later.

Rosita: just tell me you’re okay

Rosita: i just want to make sure you’re fine

Rosita: fuck

Rosita: wynonna, please

Rosita: i’m begging you

Twelve hours later.

Rosita: i shouldn’t have kissed you, i should have asked

Rosita: we would never ever have to kiss again, i assure you

Rosita: wynonna, we can just be friends

Rosita: or whatever you want to be

Rosita: i just want you to talk to me

Twelve hours later.

Rosita: you’re scaring me

Rosita: if you don’t pick up your fucking phone i’m going to leave this fucking nunnery, damn the consequences

Wynonna: dont be an idiot

Rosita: wynonna are you okay?

Rosita: wynonna?

Thirty hours later.

Rosita: don’t do this, please

Rosita: we can pretend like it never happened

Rosita: i promise, it’ll be like before

Rosita: please

Rosita: you’re the only one who understands me

Rosita: you’re the only one who has ever understood me

Rosita: please

Two weeks later.

Rosita: i need you

part ix

One day later.

She didn’t know why she was back. It had been about two and a half weeks since she had been here. Two and a half weeks of hating herself. Two and a half weeks of hating how she left and how she felt like she couldn’t go back. Two and a half weeks of missing everything about Rosita. Two and a half weeks of wishing she was back in her arms, back in her bed, back kissing her lips.

She wished that it was Rosita’s last text that had convinced her to come back, but instead, it was her nosy best friend.

“You’re mopey again. And drinking.”

Wynonna rolled her eyes at the redhead, who was looking at all the empty bottles in her bed. “And you’re annoying. So what?”

Haught glared at her. “Go see her, Earp. Please. For all of our sakes.”

“What the hell are you on about?”

Haught put her hands on her hips. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but I know you were going off to see Rosita every night a couple of weeks ago. Rachel told me that she had seen you sneaking out and I followed you. I connected the pieces. I have to say, I was surprised, but she was making you so happy.”

Wynonna groaned and buried her head in her pillow. “Did you tell my sister?”

“Not my problem. You should tell her, not me. So… what happened?” Nicole sat down on the makeshift bed with Wynonna.

“She kissed me.”

“And that’s a bad thing? Did she force herself on you?”

“No, nothing like that. I kissed her back.”

Nicole furrowed her eyebrows. “So… what’s the problem?”

Wynonna shook her head, frustrated that she didn’t understand. “I’m a fuck up. I would fuck it up. I don’t do relationships.”

“But you like her?”

“Too much.”

Nicole sighed. “Wynonna, don’t focus on the relationship. Don’t focus on any of that shit. It doesn’t matter. What matters is how you feel about her and you wanting to be with her. Everything else, that’s just fluff. You deserve this. You deserve her.”

Tears spilled from her eyes. “She’s too good for me.”

“You’re an idiot, Earp.” Nicole reached over and wiped some of her tears away. “Go to her. Tell her the truth. Everything else is fluff.”

Fluff.

She opened the door to find fucking Cecelia’s fist. Blood was spilling from the cut in her lip. Fucking Cecilia.

“Hey! What the hell is going on here?”

Rosita was running toward her as Wynonna held onto her rapidly bruising face. The first thing she noticed was that Rosita was back in her nun outfit. Out of Wynonna’s clothes. It was a fucking stab to her heart (though Wynonna understood why).

“Rosita…” Wynonna breathed out when she finally approached her.

“I thought you wouldn’t want her back inside,” Cecilia hissed to Rosita proudly, like she had been of service to her.

“Go away, Cecelia, you didn’t have to fucking hit her,” Rosita muttered and finally turned to look at Wynonna, who was practically speechless. “That should be my job.”

Wynonna gulped and stiffened, ready for a smack. But nothing happened.

“Did you really think I was going to hit you?” There was no resemblance of humor in her voice. She seemed genuinely concerned.

Wynonna shrugged. She didn’t tell her that it had happened before.

Rosita seemed to know the answer to the question even though she was silent. Her hard eyes softened and she reached out to pull the other brunette into her arms. Tears immediately spilled out of Wynonna’s eyes. She had missed this so much. Rosita’s arms.

“Goddammit, Wynonna.”

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized and squeezed Rosita tighter. “I shouldn’t have left you like that. I should have picked up my fucking phone. I was so scared.”

“Of what?”

“You, me, us. All of it.”

Rosita pulled away and cupped Wynonna’s tear covered cheeks. “I never would have done anything you weren’t comfortable with. We don’t—let’s go into my room. Everyone’s watching us.”

Wynonna looked around and realized that Rosita was right. Nuns were staring down at her, glaring at her in the creepiest way possible. She shuddered and followed Rosita to her room, anxiously waiting for Rosita to finish what she was saying.

When the doors closed, Rosita continued. “Wynonna, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Ever. ”

Wynonna ran her fingers through her hair. She knew this was going to be the hard part. Telling the truth. Being vulnerable. She fucking hated it. But with Rosita holding her hand as they sat on the mattress, she felt reassured. She felt strong enough to do this.

“It’s not that I don’t want us to do things. It’s just… I’ve never done this. I don’t know if you know this about me, but I fuck up every single potential relationship I’ve ever had and I have never ever been enough. I don’t want us to get together and for me to ruin this.”

“Oh, Wynonna…” Rosita squeezed her hand and took a deep breath. “I don’t know what Doc or anyone else said or did, but you need to know that you are enough for anyone. You might be a colossal hot mess, but Wynonna, anyone would be lucky to have you. As a friend, as a lover, as a mother…”

Wynonna broke.

Physically, emotionally, she broke down. She placed her head in her hands, crying into them as she tried to move away from Rosita, not wanting her to have to deal with this. She never liked anyone to see her like this. Not even Waverly.

“Wynonna…” Rosita moved closer to her and tried to pull her close.

For a few long seconds, Wynonna pushed her away as hard as she could. Tears streaming down her face, she struggled with Rosita, screaming and hitting, trying to get away from her when all the ex-Revenant was doing was trying to hold her closer. Normally, Wynonna would have been able to fight against her, but while she was desperately shaking and forgetting how to breathe, she couldn’t fight against her. She hated it. She hated that Rosita was holding her, cradling her in her arms, whispering that she needed to breathe.

She didn’t deserve it. Just like she didn’t deserve Doc. Just like she didn’t deserve her sister’s love or Haught’s friendship.

But she continued to sob into Rosita’s shoulder as the woman ran her fingers through Wynonna’s hair. She didn’t know how to stop. How to start breathing like a normal person. She hadn’t done this in awhile. And usually, it happened when she was alone and she’d cry until she couldn’t anymore.

She clung to Rosita’s nun robe until she finally was able to breathe along with her and coughed out, “I’m ruining your clothes.”

“Eh, there’s more of ‘em. I could take it off if you wanted.”  

“Why are y-you doing this?” Wynonna asked her (somehow ignoring Rosita’s innuendo), her voice trembling as fiercely as her body. She couldn’t think of a single person other than Waverly who would do this for her.

Rosita shrugged. “You know I don’t want to see you suffer.”

That wasn’t good enough for her. “I ghosted you.”

“You did, but I don’t give a shit about that right now. You’re Wynonna fucking Earp. The bravest, most loyal, and sexiest person I’ve ever met. You have so much shit on your shoulders and everyone expects you to just deal with it with a smile. It’s okay if you’re not doing okay.”

She shook her head, not allowing a single word to mean anything to her. “I’m not just doing ‘not okay’, I’m doing total shit. I’m a fuck-up, Rosita, it’d be a joke to pretend like I’m anything but.”

Startling Wynonna, Rosita gently traced a finger from Wynonna’s eyebrow to her chin and whispered, “just cause you think you’re a fuck-up doesn’t mean you not also all those things I said.” She grinned down at her, knowing Wynonna’d smile.

“You’re a beautiful idiot.”

“All I’m hearing is that I’m beautiful.”

Wynonna wiped her tears and smiled at her. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“You literally compliment and flirt with me all the time. Like in every sentence. Even when you try to criticize me—”

“Yeah, yeah.” Wynonna looked down, tried to gather herself, and said, “I’m sorry I ghosted you.”

“I’m sorry I kissed you.”

Wynonna shook her head. “Can you do it again?”

“Wynonna, I don’t want you to feel like we have to do anything.”

“Please. Please kiss me, Rosita. I just want you to fucking—”

Rosita interrupted her with her lips. Her fucking lips. She kissed her with a greedy need and Wynonna returned it. Give and take. Wynonna wanted all of her. It was all need.

The Heir gracefully moved so that instead of the cradling position they were in, she could sit on Rosita’s lap, placing her hand on Rosita’s waist. Rosita smiled slightly at the touch and the kiss deepened. Rosita’s hands were all in the other woman’s hair.

When Wynonna’s mouth traveled to Rosita’s chin, down to her neck, Rosita asked, “I thought you didn’t want this.”

Wynonna came up for air and found Rosita’s brown eyes. “God, I want everything with you. Everything else is fluff.”

Rosita snorted. “Fluff? Who are you and what have you done with Wynonna Earp?”

“Don’t be cheeky,” Wynonna quipped back. “What I mean is, all of my worries, when I’m with you, it’s just extra fluff. What matters is that I want you. I want to spend all my time with you. I want to talk to you. I want to laugh with you. I want to kiss you. And you know I want to fuck you. I want you.” She kissed her neck. “I want you.” She kissed her jawline. “I want you.” She kissed her cheek. “I want you.” She kissed her lips.

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that,” Rosita muttered between kisses. “Though I’m pretty sure I want you more.”

Wynonna felt like her whole body was on fire. She just kissed her with more urgency, more desire, more love. She tried to find a zipper or button or something on Rosita’s nun thing and growled when she couldn’t find anything.

“Fuck it.”

She ripped it.

Rosita laughed. “Needy.”

It didn’t take long for the nun outfit to be in shreds. She was caught a little off-guard when she saw Rosita’s body, her fucking body, her entire glorious body. She quickly started to memorize every section of skin, every curve, every line.

“See something you like?”

“You’re gorgeous.”

Rosita grinned at her and started taking Wynonna’s clothes off until they scattered across the floor. Rosita started touching her, her fingers feeling like bolts of energy across her skin. Rosita’s touch brought her back to life.

part x

One year later.

Wynonna’s eyes snapped open at the sound of pots and pans. She groaned and rolled over, bumping into a body. She was mostly used to sleeping with another body, but it still sometimes startled her. In a good way. She couldn’t believe that it had been a year and that they were still together, even though the bed was different.

The other woman wrapped her arms around her and Wynonna breathed her in. She smelled like home.

“I’m going to kill my sister for waking us up every morning.”

Rosita chuckled and kissed her forehead. “She’s making us breakfast, you know.”

“Even so, she’s making me miss the nunnery.”

“That’s dramatic. You added an extension on the house for a reason, Wynonna. I would not have liked to live in the barn.”

Wynonna grinned at her cheesily. “It was a cozy barn.”

Rosita rolled her eyes. “Not cozy enough for me. I’m just personally glad you finally told your sister. She was the one who figured out how I could stay here with the ammonite.”

“And she’s been teasing me about you ever since.”

Rosita pretended to pout. “Oh. You poor baby. You have to deal with your mean sister making fun of you being cute with your girlfriend. Your hot girlfriend, might I add.”

Wynonna smirked and started to trace her fingers along her girlfriend’s arm. “The hottest girlfriend in the world.”

The ex-Revenant hummed. “How long do you think we can wait until we have to go see your sister.”

She groaned. “Knowing her, she’ll probably knock on our door in three minutes if we don’t get up. I can’t believe she’s still doing her interruption ‘payback’ scheme. Wynonnus Interruptus was charming. Waverly Interrupy is just a jerk.”

“Well,” Rosita sighed and began to tug at the boxers Wynonna was wearing, “we can do a lot in three minutes.”

Wynonna’s heart thumped as her girlfriend rolled on top of her and started kissing her neck. She moaned and started to mess with Rosita’s bra clip. It was almost completely off when there was a banging on the door.

“Breakfast is ready, lovebirds!”

Both of them groaned in frustration and Rosita flopped back down on the bed. They acted surprised even though this happened almost every morning. Wynonna wasn’t sure if she’d ever get used to it, though. Waking up to Rosita every morning. Rosita, her girlfriend. Her fucking girlfriend. It still amazed her. She couldn’t believe she stayed.

“I guess that means we have to put clothes on,” Rosita sighed as she sat up and pulled her long hair into a messy bun.

Wynonna gazed at her girlfriend. “Please don’t put clothes on.”

“Baby…” Rosita leaned over and kissed her. “The last time we left the room looking like this we were told that we ‘traumatized’ the munchkin.”

“Smalldez. Ruining our mood.” Wynonna scrunched up her nose and frowned.

Rosita snorted. “It also just so happened that she was on facetime with her significant other. Rachel said that they were very concerned about her when it happened.”

“Okay, so we learned our lesson! Rachel legit saw Waverly and Nicole on the floor in the kitchen. I don’t know how us in our bras could be that much worse.”

The ex-Revenant shrugged. “Don’t know. But we have to get out of bed or it’s just going to be worse for us. You know that. The last time we stayed in our room, when we came out, they all had headphones on. And we weren’t even really doing anything. And when we have Alice come home, it’ll just be worse. She’ll need you all the time.”

The mention of Alice sent both excitement and anxiety through her body. With Cleo admitting defeat and surrendering and most of the demons under control, they decided to bring Alice back home. Wynonna was still in a state of shock. She was so worried when she found out she was pregnant that she’d have to do it all alone. But she had her sister, her best friend/sister-in-law, Doc, Rachel, and Rosita. Rosita, who told her that she would be there for her and Alice, no matter what.

“She’ll need us, Rosie.”

A smile grew from Rosita’s lips. “Imagine in a few weeks time, your little girl will be in our arms.”

It was the only thing that Wynonna had been thinking about in the last few months. “It’s crazy. I’m so excited for her to be home. It’ll be like…”

“Like what, Wy?”

Wynonna took a deep breath, knowing what she was going to say was a big deal. “Like all the people I love will be in one place. Like my family will finally be together. Like I’m finally happy. I know a lot of it has to do with you.”

Rosita cupped Wynonna’s cheeks and kissed her nose. “You make me happier than I’ve ever been, Wynonna.”

“Rosita, I—I love you. So fucking much. I love you so much.”

She finally said it. She knew it was the truth after a week of being together, but she wasn’t ready to say it out loud until now. She was emotionally ready, now. She knew what there relationship was and she knew that it was strong. There was nothing that could pull them apart. Not now.

“Wynonna Earp,” Rosita laughed and wiped the tears that flowed from Wynonna’s eyes. “I love you, too. More than anything. More than the amount of stars in the sky. No matter what.”

Wynonna grinned, feeling a burst of love spread throughout her entire body. She kissed her with everything she had. God, she loved Rosita Bustillos.

“BREAKFAST IS GETTING COLD!”

“I think we’re going to be in trouble,” Rosita joked and kissed her gently. “We should go.”

Wynonna sighed in agreement. “We should.”

They didn’t.

[blognotfound]

@mytalkingraccoon nominated me for this shit ugh

1. think of the last person who said i love you, do you think they meant it? he did, unfortunately i didn’t.  2. would you date an 18yr old at the age you are now? i mean i’m 18 so  3. when was the last you were aggravated and happy at the same time? like a month ago during s 4. would you ever smile at a stranger? yeah and i do cuz i’m a nice fucking person 5. is there someone mad bc you’re dating or talking to the person you are? not currently no 6. have you heard a song that reminds you of someone today? yeah and i’ll link it 7. what exactly are you wearing right now? an old volleyball shirt and that’s literally it  8. how often do you listen to music? practically every waking moment 9. do you wear jeans or sweats more? jeans fo sho 10. do you think your life will change dramatically before 2014? i mean 11. are you a social or antisocial person? i’m a hybrid 12. have you ever kissed someone who’s name begins with the letter a? yeah and that was def a mistake 13. what about the letter r? no i don’t think so 14. can you drive a stick shift? yes but will i crash it? also yes 15. do you care if people talk badly about you? not really, just have the balls to say it to my face if you do 16. are you going out of town soon? no i don’t think so 17. when was the last time you cried? months ago 18. have you ever told someone you loved them? mhm 19. if you could change your eye color, would you? yeah maybe like a greenish color 20. is there a boy who you would absolutely everything for? my dad ig? maybe my guy bsf? 21. name something you dislike about the say you’re having. my skin is dry but that’s it 22. is it cute when guys kiss you on the forehead? i guess 23. are you dating the last person you talked to? nope thank god 24. what are you sitting on rn? the floor lmao 25. does anybody regularly tell you they love you? nope  26. have you ever wanted someone you couldn’t have? who hasn’t 27. who was the last person you talked to before you went to bed last night? my f*ckbuddy 28. do you get a lot of colds? no i have an immune system like the fucking navy seals 29. where is the shirt you’re wearing from? from my high school 30. does anyone hate you? probably? 31. do you have empty alcohol bottles hidden in your room? no i throw them away cuz i’m not a pussy 32. do you like watching scary movies? yeah sometimes 33. do you wanna get your tongue pierced? god no 34. if you had to delete one year of your life completely, which would it be? i mean they all suck but sophomore year of high school ig 35. did you have a dream last night? yes it was a weird ass dream with bucky the winter soldier and ben hardy archangel ok 36. when was the last time you told someone you love them? two days ago 37. do you think you’ll be married in 5 years? god i hope not marriage is for the weak im sorry 38. do you think someone has feelings for you? yeah. feelings of hatred 39. do you think someone is thinking of you rn? yeah probably  40. did you have a good day yesterday? yeah it was decent 41. think back 2 months ago.  were you in a relationship? no 42. in the next 48hrs, will you hang out with a girl? yeah my sister lmao 43. has anyone told you they don’t ever wanna lose you? yeah but i don’t think they meant it 44. what’s the best part about school? LEAVING lmaooooo 45. do you have any pictures on your facebook? pft who has facebook anymore 46. do you ever pass notes to your friends in school? no i just text them lmao 47. do you replay things that happen in your head? yes constantly it’s a problem 48. were you single last summer? nope  49. is anything in your life like it was 2 years ago? god no everything is different 50. what are you supposed to be doing rn? nothing?? i don’t think?? 51. do you hate the last guy you had a conversation with? no i don’t have daddy issues 52. are you nice to everyone hahahhahahahahhaha 53. have you ever liked someone you didn’t expect to? unfortunately 54. did you think you can last in a relationship for 6 months and not cheat? yeah? what kinda question 55. are you good at hiding your feelings? sometimes 56. do you think you like someone? i do not 57. have you ever kissed someone who’s name starts with j? no i’m pretty sure i haven’t? 58. do you prefer to be friends with girls or boys? boys, girls are too sensitive and too gossipy and too 59. has anyone of your friends ever seen you cry? LMAO YES AND THIS IS A FUNNY STORY BUT 60. do you hate anyone? no, i got no room in my life for h8 ;) 61. how’s your heart? i mean i got low blood pressure it could be beating a lil harder  62. is there something that happened in your past that you hate talking about? several things  63. have you ever cried over a guy? yes and i’m not ashamed 64. who is probably talking a load of crap about you rn? one of my exes maybe 65. are your toenails painted pink? no. oddly specific question  66. will your next kiss be a mistake? possibly? 67. do girls love it when their bfs cry? no?!?!?! what the hell 68. have your pants ever fallen down in public? no geez 69. who was the last person you were on the phone with? my dad 70. how do you look rn? fresh asf you already know 71. do you have someone you can be your complete self around? yes idgaf i’m myself around everyone 72. can you commit to one person? yeah 73. do you have someone of the opposite sex you can tell everything to? yes and these questions are getting kinda repetitive 74. have you ever felt replaced? several times 75. did you wake up cranky? no 76. are you a jealous person? generally no 77. are relationships ever worth it? yeah and if you don’t think so your relationships have been toxic sry 78. anyone you’re giving up on? not rn 79. currently wanting to see anyone? yes, literally anyone. i’d like to see another human being 80. name something you have to do tomorrow. hydrate lmao 81. last person you cried in front of? oh geez it was  82. is there someone you’ll never forget? yeah i have a good memory 83. do you think the person you have feelings for is protective of you? i ain’t got feelings  84. if the person you wish to be with were with you, what would you be doing rn? chillin& stuff 85. are you over your past? is anyone? 86. have you ever liked one of your best friends of the opposite sex? yeeeet yeah 87. is there anyone you can tell EVERYTHING to? mhm 88. if your fist true love knocked on your door with an apology and presents would you accept? AAHAHAHAHHAHA hellll nah 89. so the last person you kissed just happens to arrive at your door at 3am, do you let them in? yeah they’re just coming over to f*ck again 90. have you ever liked someone who your friends hates? yeah 91. will you be in a relationship in 2 months? hope not 92. is there anyone you know with the name michael? probably shout out to micheal 93. have you ever kissed a matthew? ugh no but i’ve been tempted to 94. were you in a relationship in january? how was it going? yes& great! 95. were you happy with the person you liked in march? no i was not 96. is the last person you texted attractive? eh  97. who do you have texts from? my mom, my guy bsf, and my f*ckbuddy 98. if the person you like says they like someone else, what would you say? “oh, cool!” (and also move on lmao) 99. have you ever kissed someone older than you? mm yeah 100. who’s in your pfp with you? no one??? 101. ever kissed under fireworks? yes i have ;) 102. has anybody ever given you butterflies? ofc lmao

tagging - the person reading this muahahahahahaha

[typicalhippiegirl]

Let's talk about something.

First off, I'm not putting this messed up, peely, gross looking tattoo up for anyone to judge (I'm not happy with it either). I'm putting this out there to help others learn from my mistakes & hopefully prevent them from going thru what I've been dealing with.

There's a tattoo expo coming to town with featured artists from out of town. I find one thru IG whose work looks clean & I like her style so I DM her about setting an appt. Shes got time this weekend yay! no waiting for the expo. -Do you see the mistakes I made already? It's so obvious to me now😓

Saturday's here, I head to the shop (for the first time) for the appointment & the moment I walk in it's like Uh, wtf? Half the shop is taped off & in the middle of a remodel (no dust or active working, just shit all moved around). I brush it off, theyre getting things ready for an expo right? They need people tattooing there, not playing pool so ya, no wonder it's a bit messy.

Next she shows me the stencil and its fuckin huge. Like I specifically said between 6-8 inches max bc it's going on my forearm & i'm not Stretch Armstrong. Shes like Oh I kept it between 8 & 10. Well ya didn't fuckin listen bc what woman has arms that long? So it's resized & idk what we were casually talking about but she def rolled her eyes at me. Look man, I'm a pretty easy going person and depending on the situation I may take a slight without saying shit. Also like low self confidence helps with that right? So anyway, at the point I should have been like Alright dude, we're not really clickin & I'm not feelin this anymore & walked TF out. I didnt. Like an idiot. I'm not gonna lie, part of it was losing put on the deposit the other part was just me telling myself it would be fine despite in my heart of hearts I knew it wasn't.

So we start. Yo, she's a Fuckin. Bitch. I wanted a theme right, this chick is supposed to be a Texas pinup, I wanted certain colors in her clothes. I asked "What colors are we thinking for her?" She actually scoffed and says "These ones" while motioning at her cups. Wow. Ok, well, fuck I don't want to ask her anything anymore so I shutup & go with it.

This shit HURTS. I'm not a pussy when it comes to pain. I have several tattoos, including fingers, toes and a whale that was particularly painful because it goes directly over my very bony shin. I've been cut, I've had a baby without drugs. Mags remind me of getting a razor cut and I find pleasure in the feeling. I can tolerate some pain and this shit sucked. Yo, at the end she switched down to a single needle and that was KILLER. I felt like I was being carved into (which, if you'd ever seen my back you'd know, I know the feeling).

Alright so finally we're finished & I roll into the next day. I'm a bit worried about the appearance and not just bc she looks like she broke her leg. It looks wet. I continue my aftercare as normal: antibac soap & aquaphor. Day 2 I'm researching infections bc it's super painful, red but mostly it's wet. I'm afraid of infection also bc this chick had the trash can right next to the station. I mean Right. Fuckin. Next to it. To the point that the trashcan lid fell onto the pad where my arm is. I want to ask her to move it but she's in such a bad mood I think it'll just make things worse & she'll be even rougher. By day 3 I've tried antibac goo & it seems to make my skin bubble where its been applied so I quickly quit using that. My arm hurts so badly at this point I cant put it down without getting shooting pains up my arm. I let it dry out so things are crusty but at least I don't find them medically disturbing. Regardless, I spend a lot of this day crying. Day 4 I'm still researching infection and come across overworked tattoos, scars & "hamburgering" My heart pretty much drops bc this is it, this is what's going on. What's even more fucked up is that I find this on forums for people learning to tattoo. Like apprentice's first few tattoos having this problem. Rookie shit, ya hear?😑

The pictures are from day 5. You can see splitting along the black lines, there's holes in the sun & near her belt. Oh and that's a thing. The hole is the sun is bc somehow a drop of green got in there so she went over it and over it and over it again with more red. Can you imagine my frustration at that point?

So look, I got this done Saturday, here it is Friday. My skin is very shiny and puckery where the peeling has come off. The scabs are thick af, I've only been moisturizing the places safe to so as of today almost everything but the cactus. Did I mention my arm still really hurts? I can't straighten it, there's pains that shoot out from the center, and why why why is my bicep sore?! I'm really worried about how the cactus is going to turn out. My skin looks bumpy between the cracks of scab. I think she used a crappy cheap green. I'm really left wondering about her experience as a tattoo artist. I'm just saying: My first tattoo was done by a scratcher in a dirty apartment bedroom. He did such a shitty job that I took the machine from him & finished it myself. Might I mention I was 16 and completely coked out of my mind? Also, I didn't hamburger myself and there was no scarring over that disaster of a tattoo (which thankfully no longer exists thanks to the aforementioned painful whale)

This whole thing has fuckin sucked. I don't want anybody else dealing with this. Let me outline some things I should have done differently so if you find yourself in the same situation you can make better decisions than I did.

1. If you're looking on IG for an artist make sure they also post healed pics not just fresh ones.

2. If you're not vibing with your artist it's ok so call it off. Look, a 60$ deposit aint shit to lose in the grand scheme of things, can you get a cover up for 60$? How about bad work or a bad experience lasered off? You can't get those deals, oh who knew? Sometimes losing money is saving it.

3. Don't get shit from travelling artists. Maybe they woke up a 3am & drove 8 hours & now they don't give a shit about anything but going home.

4. If the shop doesn't look great, walk out. Again, whats 60$ compared to your health and happiness?

This is a long post & it's not something I usually post about (lol who am I kidding? Personal tragedies are kinda my thing). It's embarrassing. I'm embarrassed how she came out, I'm embarrassed I didn't speak up, I'm embarrassed I didn't just go to the person I knew could give me a good tattoo. It wasn't even about money, I didn't get a deal on this pinup mess. All I can do is move on. Thank goodness this wasn't my first piece or I may have been totally turned off from getting anymore ink. Now all I can do is continue my aftercare, hope for the best and when the time comes I'll go visit Vinny at American Tradition and get something else on the backside of my arm to distract from this mess.

Much love my inked up friends❤

Hey and if this speaks to you like you've been in this situation or are currently in it, feel free to DM me.

[kldubois]

Lessons in Looking 4/?

Title: A Stupid Thing to do

Words: 1074

A/N: This one takes place a few years in the past and we meet a new character.

TW: Blood

For the first several moments she doesn’t even know it had happened. She thinks she’d just been punched by them in the skuffle before they ran off, but then, when she starts walking, moving away from the alley, there is a sharp pain in her side. She puts a hand over it, holding the area to quell the pain and it’s wet. Her hand comes back red and suddenly her knees don’t support her anymore.

A kid makes sure that she doesn’t crack her head open as she tumbles to the ground. He’s not really a kid but she’s at that age where anyone five years younger is a kid. He looks worried as he talks to someone on the phone. She doesn’t hear the conversation, the pain overwhelming her senses.

“Hey, lady… ma’am. They said you have to stay awake,” he says, voice urgent. He removes his flannel shirt to put on the wound, trying to ignore the cry of pain she makes when he presses down. They said to do this as did common sense and he had to ignore the discomfort from her and himself because this was important to stem some of the blood flow.

“St…stop,” she moans.

“No. They said it’d be about ten minutes until the ambulance got here and I gotta keep you awake and alive.”

“Def… definitely alive,” she says quietly, gasping; speaking fucking hurts.

“Yeah…” They fall into an awkward silence feeling the depths of being strangers. “You know that was kind of stupid, jumping in the middle of them attacking me,” he says after a moment.

“Yeah, probably.” She can’t really find a way to disagree with him now that it’s all over. Marla is going to kill her for this.

“You some a police officer or something?”

“No.” She gasps at a spike of pain.

“Army, navy?”

“No. I’m a writer.”

“Like an investigative journalist?”

“No, f… fiction.” She cries out as he pushes down more on the flannel shirt pressed against her side. It’s necessary she knows but she’d like him to ease up because it’s not helping the pain. In the back of her mind, she scans through what she’s written, wondering how accurate she’s gotten knife wounds. There’s some new data coming in to improve the writing.

“You’re a fiction writer?” He gives her a puzzled look.

“Yeah… e… even got one published.” She breathes carefully against the pain.

“Well… um, congrats. You got a death wish or something?”

“My best friend thinks so,” she says. “And the nurses and doctors. And the insurance company.”

“You get into some trouble regularly?”

“Don’t mean to. It just happens.” She tries to shrug her shoulders, but the slightest move ratchets up the pain a few levels and she sees stars.

“Like today?”

“Yeah.” It doesn’t matter how brief her words, the pain won’t lessen.

“Well, it was stupid. I had it all under control.”

She raises an eyebrow at him as best as she can, wincing at the pain.

“Okay, maybe not, but letting them get away with my wallet and phone was better than this.”

“Probably, but I… I’ve been told I… don’t think.” She’s feeling strange now, lightheaded, fuzzy, and weak. The pain is still there and any movement, even the careful breathing causes it to spike. Her eyes drift closed against the pain and growing weakness.

“Hey, hey. They said no sleeping and considering you save me from getting robbed, you have to listen to me.”

“How… how the hell… does it work out that way?” She fixes him with a slightly incredulous look.

“I… I don’t know, but you can’t die because I was stupid and took a shortcut down an alley just to get to class quickly.” His worry and panic take over his voice as he speaks quickly and stumbles over his words.

“Not dying.”

“You’re bleeding pretty badly, ma’am. I’d say you are.”

“Ev… Evalyne,” she says, shaking her head slightly.

“Huh?”

“My name.”

“Oh. I’m Nate. I’m a student at the university.”

“Nice to me… meet you, Nate. What… what’re you st… studying?” She tries hard to keep her eyes open. He’s quite a brave young man to stick around with her and she doesn’t want to cause him any more worry or concern. It wouldn’t do for him to panic that she was dying even though a part of her realizes that this is about as serious a situation as she’s been in.

“Linguistics and history.”

“Am… bitious.”

“That’s what everyone says.” He smiles slightly.

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah. It’s so much fun.” His face lights up despite the situation.

“Then don’… don’t worry about others.”

“That’s what my mom says.”

“She’s… right.”

Nate pulls the cloth away, bunching it up in a different way to find a dry spot. When he presses it back on the wound, Evalyne cries out, her body twisting away from him. Where’s that ambulance, he thinks.

“You’re staying with me, right,” he asks when her eyes start closing again. She’s paler, more than before, and her breathing is shallowed and ragged. He shakes her with his free hand, hoping to keep her awake. For a brief second her eyes open with some awareness, a sort of understanding he thinks and a peacefulness, before they close again and she goes limp.

“Damnit,” he says lowly and redoubles his pressure on the wound. It’s probably a futile effort, but all he can think is that she can’t lose any more blood. If only she’d be okay, he thinks, he’d never take a shortcut again. He’ll be late to class every day, taking the penalty to his grade. His professors didn’t know that he worked as a barista, he couldn’t tell them. She can’t die because of his shame and guilt. That’d be so much worse. His professors and classmates, they’d all find out and they’d pity him and shun him. He’d never find his place there.

As he’s swirling in his thoughts, he doesn’t hear the ambulance arrive, realizing their arrival only when two paramedics push him aside and start questioning him. He answers as fully as he can. He thinks they’ll leave him there. He’s fine, after all. But they take him too. They wrap a blanket around him and, after loading Evalyne up, they guide him into the back, too, and once everything’s set, they speed away to the ER where maybe, hopefully, they’ll save Evalyne.

[veneataur]

Whumpmas day 4

Fandom: Original Fiction

Prompt: Losing a significant amount of blood

Title: A Stupid Thing to Do

A/N: I’m not particularly happy with this one but it’s done and I might come back later to work on it. We see the introduction of new character in here. Please enjoy.

For the first several moments she doesn’t even know it had happened. She thinks she’d just been punched by them in the skuffle before they ran off, but then, when she starts walking, moving away from the alley, there is a sharp pain in her side. She puts a hand over it, holding the area to quell the pain and it’s wet. Her hand comes back red and suddenly her knees don’t support her anymore.

A kid makes sure that she doesn’t crack her head open as she tumbles to the ground. He’s not really a kid but she’s at that age where anyone five years younger is a kid. He looks worried as he talks to someone on the phone. She doesn’t hear the conversation, the pain overwhelming her senses.

“Hey, lady… ma’am. They said you have to stay awake,” he says, voice urgent. He removes his flannel shirt to put on the wound, trying to ignore the cry of pain she makes when he presses down. They said to do this as did common sense and he had to ignore the discomfort from her and himself because this was important to stem some of the blood flow.

“St…stop,” she moans.

“No. They said it’d be about ten minutes until the ambulance got here and I gotta keep you awake and alive.”

“Def… definitely alive,” she says quietly.

“Yeah…” They fall into an awkward silence feeling the depths of being strangers. “You know that was kind of stupid, jumping in the middle of them attacking me,” he says after a moment.

“Yeah, probably.” She can’t really find a way to disagree with him now that it’s all over. Marla is going to kill her for this.

“You some a police officer or something?”

“No.” She gasps at a spike of pain.

“Army, navy?”

“No. I’m a writer.”

“Like an investigative journalist?”

“No, f… fiction.” She cries out as he pushes down more on the flannel shirt pressed against her side. It’s necessary she knows but she’d like him to ease up because it’s not helping the pain.

“You’re a fiction writer?” He gives her a puzzled look.

“Yeah… e… even got one published.” She breathes carefully against the pain.

“Well… um, congrats. You got a death wish or something?”

“My best friend thinks so,” she says. “And the nurses and doctors. And the insurance company.”

“You get into some trouble regularly?”

“Don’t mean to. It just happens.” She tries to shrug her shoulders, but the slightest move ratchets up the pain a few levels and she sees stars.

“Like today?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it was stupid. I had it all under control.”

She raises an eyebrow at him as best as she can, wincing at the pain.

“Okay, maybe not, but letting them get away with my wallet and phone was better than this.”

“Probably, but I… I’ve been told I… don’t think.” She’s feeling strange now, lightheaded, fuzzy, and weak. The pain is still there and any movement, even the careful breathing causes it to spike. Her eyes drift closed against the pain and growing weakness.

“Hey, hey. They said no sleeping and considering you save me from getting robbed, you have to listen to me.”

“How… how the hell… does it work out that way?” She fixes him with a slightly incredulous look.

“I… I don’t know, but you can’t die because I was stupid and took a shortcut down an alley just to get to class quickly.” His worry and panic take over his voice as he speaks quickly and stumbles over his words.

“Not dying.”

“You’re bleeding pretty badly, ma’am. I’d say you are.”

“Ev… Evalyne,” she says, shaking her head slightly.

“Huh?”

“My name.”

“Oh. I’m Nate. I’m a student at the university.”

“Nice to me… meet you, Nate. What… what’re you st… studying?” She tries hard to keep her eyes open. He’s quite a brave young man to stick around with her and she doesn’t want to cause him any more worry or concern. It wouldn’t do for him to panic that she was dying even though a part of her realizes that this is about as serious a situation as she’s been in.

“Linguistics and history.”

“Am… bitious.”

“That’s what everyone says.” He smiles slightly.

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah. It’s so much fun.” His face lights up despite the situation.

“Then don’… don’t worry about others.”

“That’s what my mom says.”

“She’s… right.”

Nate pulls the cloth away, bunching it up in a different way to find a dry spot. When he presses it back on the wound, Evalyne cries out, her body twisting away from him. Where’s that ambulance, he thinks.

“You’re staying with me, right,” he asks when her eyes start closing again. She’s paler, more than before, and her breathing is shallowed and ragged. He shakes her with his free hand, hoping to keep her awake. For a brief second her eyes open with some awareness, a sort of understanding he thinks and a peacefulness, before they close again and she goes limp.

“Damnit,” he says lowly and redoubles his pressure on the wound. It’s probably a futile effort, but all he can think is that she can’t lose any more blood. If only she’d be okay, he thinks, he’d never take a shortcut again. He’ll be late to class every day, taking the penalty to his grade. His professors didn’t know that he worked as a barista, he couldn’t tell them. She can’t die because of his shame and guilt. That’d be so much worse. His professors and classmates, they’d all find out and they’d pity him and shun him. He’d never find his place there.

As he’s swirling in his thoughts, he doesn’t hear the ambulance arrive, realizing their arrival only when two paramedics push him aside and start questioning him. He answers as fully as he can. He thinks they’ll leave him there. He’s fine, after all. But they take him too. They wrap a blanket around him and, after loading Evalyne up, they guide him into the back, too, and once everything’s set, they speed away to the ER where maybe, hopefully, they’ll save Evalyne.

[v-le]

Kdrama: Tomorrow With You Review

Forewarning: There are moments within this review in which I sort of abandon any sense of professionalism, oops. Enjoy! *images to be added soon.

The OTP

Same age in real life omg I've never seen a pair so perfect.

NO SECOND LEADS. I absolutely love it when the focus is only on the mains, with no pointless distractions or love triangles that go no where. I love it. i rly do

cute cute cute cute times a million

They honestly looked like a legitimate couple, I feel like I could spot several moments when they even broke through their actual characters and ad-libbed it out or something

Many people were also complaining about how slow (I assume they meant relationship progression???) it was, and got annoyed over their "back-and-forth-ness"?? honest to god, yes they were so beautiful that I barely noticed it. But also, it was so logical to me, the process they went through in which they lied to each other & then failed to communicate until later. Like, it didn’t piss me off because it made sense...? I didn’t see anything wrong with it? It went a little like: 

Yoo So-joon hits on her because he knows how they’re connected by death.

He tries to shake her off, but realizes who she really is (a fellow survivor).

He becomes interested again.

THEY FCKING GET MARRIED in FCKING EP 4 IF THAT IS SLOW TO U, THEN STFU AND GTFO

He obvi don’t love her fully, but she’s already heads over heels

She feels suspicious af and he doesn’t tell her stuff (that even his friends know). And he gets angry easily while he tries to protect his ppl, but keeps his secret hidden.

She got sick and he pulls off his romantic but materialistic resolution.

He opens up to her a little bit more and they cry it out.

He makes a wrong move again and then is basically forced to reveal his secret.

She’s like what the actual fuck is wrong with you, but comes to terms with it.

They get closer, but she feels empty because she rly don’t know much about him and he is as careless as ever.

Her heart breaks over the reality of him disappearing so easily.

So-joon is slowly realizing the future that’s in store for them.

Tries to call it quits and play noble idiot, but she won’t take his fake, snarky ass.

So they make up and he really really really realizes that he must change the future, no matter what. He has nothing left for her him but her.

He tries hard. but doesn’t try hard enough.

By the time he disappears & she waits for two years, they are basically one heart.

By the time they reunite they are the cutest couple in the world.

I think a big issue people had with So-joon’s character was that "he didn’t love her" when they got married, but I think that wording is extremely misleading and not entirely accurate. Yes, I don’t think that at that point he could say "I love you" to her with sincerity, but it’s not like he flat out was disgusted by her or hated her…?? It was more like, he was not fully aware of what he was getting himself into, by getting married. Not just to her, but the concept of marriage and the commitments that come with it in the first place. That was what he was not on board with, which is how he may have come off as indifferent. But we all knew that Song Ma-rin would change him for the better because the ones with flawed intuition always get taught a good lesson or two from their loved ones.

DO U KNOW how MaNY times he was shirtless WITh HEr?????

I swear I think I counted properly, but they kissed like 9+ times and probably hugged like 15+ times like omfg I’m pretty sure that is a record

Can I also just mention that for me, when a couple wipes each other's tears, like when one of them actually takes their fingers and smushes the falling teardrops, that is just game set. To me, that solidifies their relationship as one where 1) they aren’t embarrassed to cry in front of each other 2) they care enough to show tender affection for each other 3) they sympathize together. And that is exactly what they did. MORE THAN ONCE excuse me.

The Plot

A lot of people complained about the various flaws within the actions of the characters and the mechanics of time-travelling. Honestly… like I mentioned earlier, since the OTP was so convincing to me, the holes in logic kinda flew past my head. Like, I didn’t dissect them too deeply because I was so distracted, or I just didn’t bother

Don’t you see that their progression only felt natural?? You start out with one side that is overconfident about the commitment as if he’s strolling through a park while the other is lovestruck, but always smart enough to know when bullshit is going on, and is never afraid to call the other out for it. It only took a matter of time for them to find real and genuine appreciation for each other, and it was worth it.

"WTF were you thinking moments" & justification:

So-joon letting Song Ma-rin go home by herself while Kim Young-jin was still lurking. Ok I have no solution to this like you honestly....DID YOU NOT LEARN FROM AHJUSSHI THAT YOU BASICALLY GOTTA STICK TO THE PERSON LIKE GUM IF YOU WANT THEM TO BE SAFE?? U HAVE TO HAVE THEM IN UR SIGHTS AT ALL TIMES.

So-joon getting onto subway and ultimately getting stabbed. Ok, he even said himself that he wanted to catch him with his own hands because if he doesn’t now, he'll get away and who knows how much more havoc he could wreak? The police would do no good being there blatantly, and so he had to hold out since he was the bait anyway. He just should’ve been smarter with defense, like c’mon man let’s not get cocky with your fighting skills now.

So-joon letting her run onto the street. Ok yes, he def should’ve reacted faster and realized what kinda danger she would be in after being aware of it for like 2 years aiya. But I assume it was a spur-of-the-moment, blinded happiness kinda thing. They were cute af and they were happy and like who really thinks that hard y’know???

So-joon just bracing himself and Ma-rin for the car crash. He was facing their deaths, I assume. Yes, they could’ve just jumped out of the way, but at the same time, he had already mentioned that he just wanted to enjoy the small moments they have together, instead of always trying to cheat and change fate. If they were meant to die in that moment, he was going to take it as is. (which is lightweight greedy bc wb marin???? but whateves lol).

I really do think that the story-line was extremely tightly woven to begin with. Even up until episode 16, we saw scenes from episode 1, and vice versa; everything fell into place perfectly and the details were down to each minute of their lives. Everything was very clearly thought out and i felt like they picked and pulled at certain pieces at the proper times and revealed others at the most crucial of times, too. Props to the writing team for creating such a complex & dynamic web of characters and events that spanned nearly 3 decades.

The Cinematography

Stunnnningggggg. Especially that iconic moment in episode 1 when he pulled her out of the path of an oncoming truck and talked to her for the first time, like the way the sunlight was hitting the camera, it was just something else I swear.

Overall, the colors were warm and fluffy, but the future def always looked more bleak and dry and dark.  Beautiful dualism with a strong impact.

Also can I just mention that when So-joon disappears, it’s also very mystifying, the fast wisps are quite a touch.

Also ngl the couple themself was extremely aesthetic; like they are both very attractive people & when attractive people cuddle a part of you kinda just dies inside, y’know??

The Emotions

Ok I admit that my reactions were probably overboard because I was so attached

but straight up this is the kind of drama my heart was searching for.

I always love it so so so so much, (although realistically speaking, it’s only fantasy ones that can pull this off w/o it being some noble idiocy shit) when the force that is keeping a couple apart is a force that is greater than themselves. It’s more than them just choosing to not be together. It’s them wanting so desperately to be together, but circumstances, in the best kind, life and death ones, prevent them from doing so. The reason I like these kind of situations so much is seriously because that’s where all the love comes out. The pain of love.

It was so so so soooooo excruciatingly painful to watch So-joon and Ma-rin's future unfold the exact way he saw it would. It tore me to pieces because I could feel Ki-doong's hopelessness from losing his best friend to a murderer, Ma-rin's deathly painful heartbreak from simply NOT knowing what in the world is going on or what will happen (and for her dad to tell her to move on), but just having to wait, and So-joon's very own inability to fix it all. Oh dear lord watching him visit her grave in the future where she no longer exists, that shattered my sanity because it hurt so much.

I literally cried in the smallest of moments. When he disappeared in front of her eyes, I burst into tears along with her because her crying was so beautiful (yes, actually tho), but at the same time, I felt it deep down inside. It felt trivial, to cry over that one moment, but it also meant so much more than that. It represented a real fear of losing your loved one, and o dear lord i can’t.

Like I said, the heartbreak was everything I’ve been wanting. It felt so raw. In those moments where even he cried because he was so scared for the future (after eating in the tent with ahjusshi, calling ahjusshi on the phone in the cafe, reading her letters sent to him from her past self), knowing how much was on the line, and how much he just wanted it to be okay, it hurt so much because I had so much hope along with him. I honestly didn’t expect them to allow their future to play out the exact way he saw it; I rly thought that they’d pull some plot twists because that’s what dramas do......... and so when everything really did unfold painfully, my heart was unprepared and it tore apart. Even though I knew that they would be together in the end no matter what, I didn’t know how, and everything still hurt like fking crazy.

I know a drama does it right when I can feel the pain physically in my own chest. When it suddenly feels so heavy and ache-y that I kinda wanna give up in life a little bit. That's when a drama pulled the right strings & carved a good-sized void in my heart.

The Special Connections

I, tbh only decided to watch this because I found out that Kim Feel, my eternally favorite musician, sang an OST for it, and I was feeling extra down from his military enlistment. What a beautiful gem he brought me to. When his voice played at the still frames in the ends of some episodes, my heart filled with this indescribable sort of happiness and longing.

The "seoul station" that So-joon refers to is actually called Si-cheong station, one I manage to catch a geofilter for back when I was in Korea!!!!!!!!!!! It was an exciting discovery, to find out that the exact route So-joon takes back and forth is one that I have traveled on myself.

Idk if this really has to do with anything, but the director also directed Oh My Ghostess and King of High School, so everyone kept saying that this drama would be a rom com BUT BOY WAS THAT SHIT DARK AS F*CK IDK WHAT Y’ALL HAD IN MIND BUT like, no no, no, that was nowhere close to the other 2 dramas he made. It was a beautiful change of atmosphere nonetheless.

The Message

The fact that Ma-rin is a photographer speaks volumes. For a man who is infatuated with the future and has lost focus of the present, just one photograph can speak volumes. A photograph captures the present and instills a moment in time. For Marin, this is what her life's work depended on; this is what she lived by. Capturing the present and cherishing individual seconds in time. And for So-joon, this is exactly the kind of person he needed to save him from himself and his future selves. So so so beautifully laid out.

Even just the ending line: "today". Like akjfkjdagkahkgdhlanjak, if you don’t get the message from this then you are just... idk wtf you’ve been watching LOL. Granted, the drama is called "Tomorrow With You", but clearly that is not what they are tryna get at. That was the theme throughout the entirety of the drama with So-joon being an apprehensive wuss, but the reality of it is to face the present, and live for a today with you. Love love love <3

Favorite Moments

When he asks "So... do you like me?" and she replies "Was there ever a time when I didn't????" LIKE IDK something about the trivial-ness of both statements yet how deep they hit home.... like obviously, they like each other or else they wouldn’t have gotten so far. But the fact that he had a need to reiterate that, and the fact that she was like "dude have I not made myself clear how much I like u" like that is just so adorably cute and squishy goals to me omggg.

When she sniffs him as they walk home from dinner and giggles and says "Hehehe husband smell" OMG WHY R THEY SO FREAKING CUTE I JUST--.

When he disappeared right before her eyes, it shattered everything in me.

When he grabbed her and saved her from the accident, it was one 2-sec move that altered entire lifetimes, for better or for worse. It was beautifully shot, despite it being an extremely cliche move. It’s okay. It was gorgeous and it’s def my favorite wrist grab to date LOL.

When he started crying because he saw the car accident on the news and he legit was dropping tears, but she laughed it off and hugged him and her smile was so sweet and innocent but he’s legit in agony and it was just so cute and heartbreaking at the same time LIKE HONESTLY that phrase is what describes this drama in a nutshell. Heartbreakingly beautiful.

Despite its flaws, this drama was honestly what I’ve been looking for so so so long. It’s definitely not my number 1 because there were things it could’ve done better, and each episode did not stand out like a number 1 drama should have, but it definitely tore me to pieces, out of joy AND despair. I loved it to bits and I will never forget this gorgeous couple and their journey that transcended time.

[reviewkidoodle]

How to Make Your Own Barn Quilt

Always committing to doing the things I say I’m going to do–in this case “barn quilt all the things”–I extended my collaboration with Buffalo-based designer Whitney Crispell of Local Color Quilts and made another totally crushworthy piece of outdoor art. Y’all! Still addicted to the quilts. Can’t stop, won’t stop.

Last summer, I created a colorful design to produce a 50″ x 50″ modern barn quilt for DIY Network; the new one was a gift for mom for Mother’s Day (and I delivered it yesterday in advance of her seeing this post; it was a smash). The original barn quilt (def the OG, or OGBQ) has officially seen all 4 seasons–fall, winter 1, and winter 2 were especially perfecto–and I knew reusing paints from the OG palette would be nice for my parent’s house which is surrounded by trees and accessorized by gardens blossoming with every color in the rainbow.

The timing of the project also aligned perfectly with Bethany of Reality Daydream’s #WoodArtChallenge, and it’s so fun being part of the long list of talented bloggers who put their creative skills to work and designed their own square-shaped wooden artwork. See what others made at the bottom of this post.

Barn quilts are remarkably simple to make, and aside from a saw and a drill, all you’ll really need is patience and a few supplies:

1x6x8 board

18″x18″ piece of plywood

circular saw

ruler/tape measure

straight edge

pencil

(12) 3/4″ screws

paint samples

painter’s tape

paint brushes

polyurethane/weatherproofing

hanging hardware

The wood I used was white spruce harvested and planed from trees that fell on my parents’ property. Assuming you’re buying your own lumber, you can easily make a barn quilt the same size out of one 1x8x6-ft board. To determine the measurement of my square, I stacked three 1×8 boards side by side and measured them as 21.5″ wide. To match the height, I trimmed the three boards to be an even 21.5″ in length. Pushed together, they form a perfect square. Use a piece of plywood cut into an 18″x18″ square, and 3/4″ screws to assemble the barn quilt from the backside with no fewer than 4 screws hitting each board. Attach the hanging hardware after you’re done painting (you’ll want this baby to sit flush on the table, and not be wobbling all over):

Whitney has a real eye for designing barn quilts, not just fabric quilts. The colors! Her refreshing take on heirloom quilting patterns! They’re familiar, while being completely reconcepted with consideration for modern design (and my love of the rainbow). I should point out that she’s available for hire if you want your own custom design too.

This particular design uses a 6×6 grid as a guide for painting, and dividing the face of your barn quilt into this same grid with light pencil lines is the first step to making this project easy. And please be smart and measure twice, mark once.

You’ll notice that I left a lot of natural wood exposed on this quilt. I prefer them that way because I think wood’s pretty, and this particular wood was thoughtfully preserved by my Dad himself, not just any ol’ 1×8 from the hardware store. Most traditional barn quilts are painted across the entire surface. If you want the entire surface painted, consider blanketing the boards with a solid coat of primer and white paint before marking your pencil grid lines and adding color.

Painting the detail, as I’ve eluded, is where you’ll need to muster all of your patience. To match Whitney’s color palette to specific paint colors, I used a paint app to match back to a certain brand. Most of the colors were close matches, and for a few colors that didn’t have an automatic match, I went and found paint chips from other brands. For each color, I bought a sample pot of tinted color for <$3.

Painter’s tape is the true workhorse in this project, and you should plan to use a lot of it. Fresh painter’s tape prevents the paint bleeding and helps to make nice, crisp lines. When you start, you’ll be working in various areas of the design, filling in colors on opposite areas where paint lines don’t collide.

Do several coats of paint in each space, and remove the tape before the paint has completely dried to get a sharp edge. You’ll need your first pass completely dry before you tape off and paint additional spaces, which is why this project takes a bit of time. This was my start, below, presenting as random colors with no rhyme or reason. Computer, camera, earbuds, ruler, dowel? lots of kids cups? doll bottle? check, check, check, etc.

Finishing the paint on your barn quilt and removing the last pieces of tape is a really rewarding moment, so hang in there.

As for weatherproofing, I’m not convinced that a handpainted barn quilt wouldn’t look fantastic with a bit of natural weathering from wind and rain, but I did apply a coat of water-based poly to this piece so that my mom’s art would be a little more protected. If you’re looking for serious durability, consider coating your piece with a heavier-duty transparent weatherproofer, such as the weather seal you would apply to your deck. Remember to cover the cut edges of the boards with a good coat, too!

When all of the painting is wrapped and polyurethane’s dry, attach the hardware of your choice, or attach it directly to your structure using long lag bolts into studs. We used 5″ bolts to attach the 50″ quilt square to the studs through our barn’s siding (in the background of the below photo), but this piece is lightweight enough to hang off a strong D-ring, as tested when I staged it against a tree in our yard.

To see more from the group of bloggers who joined the #WoodArtChallenge, poke at these links:

1. Reality Daydream 2. 100 Things 2 Do 3. House Becoming Home 4. Anika’s DIY Life 5. My Repurposed Life 6. 3×3 Custom 7. One Project Closer 9. Chatfield Court 10. Create & Babble 11.  Hazel & Gold 12. Jen Woodhouse 13. Sawdust 2 Stitches 14. Wood Work Life 15. Remodelaholic 16.  Evan & Katelyn 17. Jaime Costigio 18.  Pneumatic Addict 19.  Bower Power 20. Lazy Guy DIY  21. My Love 2 Create 22. Addicted 2 DIY 23. Her ToolBelt 24. Shades of Blue 25. Ugly Duckling House 26. The DIY Village 27. DIY Huntress 28. Mr Fix It DIY

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How to Make Your Own Barn Quilt posted first on aireloomreview.blogspot.com

[ethanclaxton]

How to Make Your Own Barn Quilt

Always committing to doing the things I say I’m going to do–in this case “barn quilt all the things”–I extended my collaboration with Buffalo-based designer Whitney Crispell of Local Color Quilts and made another totally crushworthy piece of outdoor art. Y’all! Still addicted to the quilts. Can’t stop, won’t stop.

Last summer, I created a colorful design to produce a 50″ x 50″ modern barn quilt for DIY Network; the new one was a gift for mom for Mother’s Day (and I delivered it yesterday in advance of her seeing this post; it was a smash). The original barn quilt (def the OG, or OGBQ) has officially seen all 4 seasons–fall, winter 1, and winter 2 were especially perfecto–and I knew reusing paints from the OG palette would be nice for my parent’s house which is surrounded by trees and accessorized by gardens blossoming with every color in the rainbow.

The timing of the project also aligned perfectly with Bethany of Reality Daydream’s #WoodArtChallenge, and it’s so fun being part of the long list of talented bloggers who put their creative skills to work and designed their own square-shaped wooden artwork. See what others made at the bottom of this post.

Barn quilts are remarkably simple to make, and aside from a saw and a drill, all you’ll really need is patience and a few supplies:

1x6x8 board

18″x18″ piece of plywood

circular saw

ruler/tape measure

straight edge

pencil

(12) 3/4″ screws

paint samples

painter’s tape

paint brushes

polyurethane/weatherproofing

hanging hardware

The wood I used was white spruce harvested and planed from trees that fell on my parents’ property. Assuming you’re buying your own lumber, you can easily make a barn quilt the same size out of one 1x8x6-ft board. To determine the measurement of my square, I stacked three 1×8 boards side by side and measured them as 21.5″ wide. To match the height, I trimmed the three boards to be an even 21.5″ in length. Pushed together, they form a perfect square. Use a piece of plywood cut into an 18″x18″ square, and 3/4″ screws to assemble the barn quilt from the backside with no fewer than 4 screws hitting each board. Attach the hanging hardware after you’re done painting (you’ll want this baby to sit flush on the table, and not be wobbling all over):

Whitney has a real eye for designing barn quilts, not just fabric quilts. The colors! Her refreshing take on heirloom quilting patterns! They’re familiar, while being completely reconcepted with consideration for modern design (and my love of the rainbow). I should point out that she’s available for hire if you want your own custom design too.

This particular design uses a 6×6 grid as a guide for painting, and dividing the face of your barn quilt into this same grid with light pencil lines is the first step to making this project easy. And please be smart and measure twice, mark once.

You’ll notice that I left a lot of natural wood exposed on this quilt. I prefer them that way because I think wood’s pretty, and this particular wood was thoughtfully preserved by my Dad himself, not just any ol’ 1×8 from the hardware store. Most traditional barn quilts are painted across the entire surface. If you want the entire surface painted, consider blanketing the boards with a solid coat of primer and white paint before marking your pencil grid lines and adding color.

Painting the detail, as I’ve eluded, is where you’ll need to muster all of your patience. To match Whitney’s color palette to specific paint colors, I used a paint app to match back to a certain brand. Most of the colors were close matches, and for a few colors that didn’t have an automatic match, I went and found paint chips from other brands. For each color, I bought a sample pot of tinted color for <$3.

Painter’s tape is the true workhorse in this project, and you should plan to use a lot of it. Fresh painter’s tape prevents the paint bleeding and helps to make nice, crisp lines. When you start, you’ll be working in various areas of the design, filling in colors on opposite areas where paint lines don’t collide.

Do several coats of paint in each space, and remove the tape before the paint has completely dried to get a sharp edge. You’ll need your first pass completely dry before you tape off and paint additional spaces, which is why this project takes a bit of time. This was my start, below, presenting as random colors with no rhyme or reason. Computer, camera, earbuds, ruler, dowel? lots of kids cups? doll bottle? check, check, check, etc.

Finishing the paint on your barn quilt and removing the last pieces of tape is a really rewarding moment, so hang in there.

As for weatherproofing, I’m not convinced that a handpainted barn quilt wouldn’t look fantastic with a bit of natural weathering from wind and rain, but I did apply a coat of water-based poly to this piece so that my mom’s art would be a little more protected. If you’re looking for serious durability, consider coating your piece with a heavier-duty transparent weatherproofer, such as the weather seal you would apply to your deck. Remember to cover the cut edges of the boards with a good coat, too!

When all of the painting is wrapped and polyurethane’s dry, attach the hardware of your choice, or attach it directly to your structure using long lag bolts into studs. We used 5″ bolts to attach the 50″ quilt square to the studs through our barn’s siding (in the background of the below photo), but this piece is lightweight enough to hang off a strong D-ring, as tested when I staged it against a tree in our yard.

To see more from the group of bloggers who joined the #WoodArtChallenge, poke at these links:

1. Reality Daydream 2. 100 Things 2 Do 3. House Becoming Home 4. Anika’s DIY Life 5. My Repurposed Life 6. 3×3 Custom 7. One Project Closer 9. Chatfield Court 10. Create & Babble 11.  Hazel & Gold 12. Jen Woodhouse 13. Sawdust 2 Stitches 14. Wood Work Life 15. Remodelaholic 16.  Evan & Katelyn 17. Jaime Costigio 18.  Pneumatic Addict 19.  Bower Power 20. Lazy Guy DIY  21. My Love 2 Create 22. Addicted 2 DIY 23. Her ToolBelt 24. Shades of Blue 25. Ugly Duckling House 26. The DIY Village 27. DIY Huntress 28. Mr Fix It DIY

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