#shut up you have a breakdown from a college essay

[professorsta]

Hey not to be a person with opinions who sticks to them (i know ugh right) but i liked what watcher was producing. The editing was crazy good the cinematography beautiful, all things i enjoyed much more than two boys sitting behind a desk. I have adhd bitch, half the time I'd zone out during bfu cus there was nothing but talking. Aint anyone the same so don't Speak For Me motherfucker. Weird and or Wonderful is a big budget project that I love. You can love the charm of youtube videos all you want, but I can like it when shit looks fucking clean, with great cinematography, and overarching plots/ideas. I guess y'all just weren't Watcher fans. Just bfu fans. And even then i think you just wanted a friend and projected that onto shane and ryan, lol

[theorphicangel]

𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬. | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

tags: enemies to lovers, college au, smut, 18+, slow burn,

synopsis: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single, brooding man in possession of a good future in genetics, must be in want of a girlfriend.

Or at least a fake one to get his family off his back.

(college au & fake dating trope ft my favourite grumpy man who doesn't fall first but ends up falling harder. ouch.)

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taglist: @oharasfilipinawife @palesatan @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @amelialysm @crimin4llyins4ne @strawberryjuice9 @beezusvreeland @faretheeoscar @lunablackcosplay @t4naiis @peachey-pie @mcmiracles @hardlystrictlystarwars @migueloharastruelove @fruityfucker @kingtwhiddleston

Chapter six: stupidity and insensibility

series

You’re an idiot. 

And a failure.

Some would suggest a mixture of both.

Following your shift, you went straight back to your dorm room, not bothering to hang out on campus for any moment longer. A benefit of studying the fine craft of English Literature is that you have plenty of independent study hours, a little more than the average college student. Of course, this time should be spent reading, planning and writing essays for your upcoming assignments, but you barely make it down the first page of a Jane Austen novel without bursting into tears.

Ever since your conversation, Miguel’s words repeatedly ring in your ear. His tone and his judgemental facial expression are permanently indented in your mind. 

‘Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage for once?’

As much as you hate the guy you can’t help but agree with him. What the fuck did you expect to happen when you set up the advert for his car? That he would get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness? Of course not. 

You’re planning to head straight underneath your covers,  ready to cry yourself to sleep for the rest of the day when you hear your phone vibrate from the bottom of your bag. After delving through numerous books, notepads, wasted receipts and tissues do you finally find it. And your stomach drops once you see the caller ID.

‘Mom’

And that was just what you needed to make you cry harder. 

Sobbing, you collapse to the floor, your mind and body completely frustrated with yourself. If you could dig a deep hole to bury yourself into, you would. If you could press a button to get yourself off this cursed planet, you would. If you could just have the chance to not fuck up your life for one, single second…you would take in a heartbeat.

Midway through your breakdown, a  knock was heard at your door. Soon followed by the sound of your roommate calling out your name. Your sobs come to a halt, a hand over your mouth to silence yourself. 

And if you could magically turn invisible to spare you from the embarrassment of your roommate catching you having a breakdown on your bedroom floor, you most definitely would.

“Are you okay?”

You don’t reply, frowning at the sound of her voice. 

You thought that Lyla was out today, it’s past midday and you assumed that she was out on campus. To be fair, you didn’t really pay attention to your surroundings once you walked into the apartment. You were much too preoccupied in getting to your room before your emotions had gotten the better of you.

“Can I come in?”

You make no reply again. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears and feel a migraine begin as a result of your crying.

“Please?” Her voice is muffled from the outside. “I want to help you.”

Her tone is soft, not like the usual ring of playfulness and teasing. You’ve only known her for a little over a month but you can tell that she’s being genuine. 

Making it to your feet, you walk over to the door and allow yourself to let her in. To allow yourself to be seen by your roommate with makeup running down your cheeks and tear stains all over your shirt.

“Oh, my love, what’s wrong?” She murmurs, stepping into the room before shutting the door behind her. 

“Everything.” You croak out. A fresh set of tears begin to creep up, ready to overspill down your cheeks again. Lyla says no more, instead taking you into her arms, allowing you to cry your heart away.

Your cathartic moment lasts for a good ten minutes before your body and mind are totally exhausted. Lyla rubs tiny circles on your back whilst you hiccup away on your bed. It’s silent between you too, the autumn sun already setting in the distance. You don’t even know how long you’ve been cooped up in your room ever since you arrived from work. 

“I know what will cheer you up.”  Lyla smiles, waiting for the moment that curiosity hits you.

“What?”

/

Late night clubbing. 

That was Lyla’s medicine. And to be honest, what’s a better treatment than getting blackout drunk to forget all of your shitty problems?

You’re currently in a club that you don’t know the name of. It’s local, not too far from campus and actually not too far from your apartment. It reminds you that you’ve not yet had the chance to explore the city; being so caught up in work, assignments and readings does unfortunately take up the majority of your time.

It’s a small club with very loud music pounding in your ears, the stench of sweat and spilled alcohol is something that you’ve now grown accustomed to after spending the past two hours here. You can barely hear the things that Lyla is saying to you as she orders countless drinks for the both of you.

Right now, you’re on a high. Your entire body feels light and your vision is slightly blurry but you can’t tell as to whether that’s because of the lighting. You can barely remember the meltdown that you had earlier, it seemed like a lifetime ago to you. 

After Lyla had found you, she helped you get ready for tonight. You’re slightly surprised that a simple face full of makeup and a short dress with some heels would have cheered you up so easily. You’re happy, happily drinking away your sorrows. The small part of your conscience that remains sober warns of how much you’ll regret it in the morning. And just like any other drunk person would do, you ignore it.

“I can’t hear you!” you shout across to Lyla, failing to lip-read her sentence. 

Lyla draws in closer, the scent of her cherry lime tequila on her lips. “I wanna go talk to that girl in the corner.” She mumbles in your ear, now loud enough for you to hear. “Behind me.”

As subtle as you can, you try and take a peek behind Lyla. Squinting, you spot a girl in a black dress in the back corner of the club. She looks around about your age and you’d assume that she’s a first year too. She holds a pink drink, standing with her own group of friends. Every now and then, you notice the girl glancing towards where you and Lyla are standing. 

“Oh, girl….”

“I know right! She’s so hot.”

You look back at Lyla, a smile creeping across your face. “Go for it.”

“Lemme take a shot first, y’know? For my confidence.” Giggling, the two of you approach the bar. It’s busy for a weekday evening but you assume that with halloween coming up, most people are in the mood for a night out. 

Taking the shot, the liquid burns the back of your throat and the two of you pull disgusted faces at the taste. Brushing herself off, Lyla prepares to make her way over. 

“Right, do I look okay?” She dabs a little lip gloss across her lips.

“Gorgeous, girl.” You pat her on the shoulders. “You got this!”

Lyla blows you a kiss goodbye, “I’ll text you if anything happens!” You give her a little thumbs up, watching her make her way over to the girl and her group of friends. A smile slips across your lips at Lyla’s ease of making a conversation, slipping easily into the group.

You turn back, ready to order another drink when you spot a familiar set of eyes from across the other side of the bar. Your smile drops at the sight of Miguel. 

“Oh, fuck me.” you mumbled.

Ignore him. That was your plan. Ordering another shot, you decide to drink away the embarrassment of your conversation earlier. You’re not even facing him but you can feel his eyes practically bore into you. Unfortunately, you didn’t look long enough to see who he was with but you hope that he gets the hint and chooses to avoid your awkward situation. 

Your hopes come crashing down at the sound of his voice close, very close to you. Just a little turn of your head and you find him standing next to you. 

“Don’t you think you should slow down a little?” He judges the pair of shots that you hold in your hands.

“And don’t you think that you should mind your own business? How long have you been watching me?”

“I wasn’t watching.”

“Right,” You pause to take both of the shots, one right after the other. Sure, you were doing a little extra, but if anyone else was in your situation they would do the same.

 “And I’m totally trying not to get black out drunk.” You mutter sarcastically, wincing immediately at the after taste.

“Any reason why you’re doing so?”

You snort at his question. Typical. He threatens to call the police on you and now asks why you’re trying to drown your sorrows in cheap alcohol? Men are idiots.

“Why are you even talking to me? Shouldn’t you be busy calling the police on me?” You didn’t hide the frustration in your voice, fiddling with the empty shot glasses in your hands.

Miguel hesitates. That’s a good question. A question that he unfortunately doesn’t have the answer to. But you’re not going to wait around for an answer.

“I’m going to get another shot so if you don’t mind, please leave me alone.”

“Don’t you have a shift tomorrow?”

Shit .

 You do. An early one too and if you don’t go home now then you’re looking at getting four to five hours sleep max.

But you’re not going to admit that to him. You shrug. “So what?”

“You need to go home.”

“And you need to leave me alone.” You’re already sounding drunk, the multiple drinks that you’ve consumed over the past few hours building up in your system and not in a good way. “I’m waiting for my roommate, she’s somewhere over there.” You stumble a little as you point to the back of the club.

Immediately, Miguel’s hands move to steady you. His large hands touch your waist, keeping you in place. Heat abruptly rises throughout your body, his actions having more of an effect on you than you’d like to admit. 

“And you need to go home.” He repeats, his tone a little more stern. 

“I said–”

Your sentence is interrupted as you feel your phone vibrate. The screen glows, illuminating your face as you read the texts that pop up on your home screen.

Lylaaaaaaa :) - (Sent at 2:23am)

- I tried looking for you, where did you go? :(((( xx

- also…I’m not coming home tonight wink wink

- Get home safe okay? xx text me when you make it back xx get an uber please!  xxxxxx

A sigh leaves your throat, your mood dejected. “She’s not coming back.” you mumble to yourself.

For some superhuman reason that you cannot understand, Miguel manages to hear you over the pounding music.

“I’ll take you home.”

You’re taken aback at his suggestion, your brain malfunctioning for a few seconds.

“Uhmmm, no.”

“Why–”

“Because.” You cut him off before he can even finish.

“That’s not a reason, nena . You can barely stand.”

“Because I hate you and I want nothing to do with you.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Drunk enough to know that I still fucking hate you.”

“I should be the one hating you.” he scoffs. “You were the one who tried to sell my car.”

Your anger suddenly boils at the mention of it. You drunkenly point a finger at him, your nail tapping his chest as you speak. “Because you were a fucking asshole to me and wrote a fucking mean ass review about me!”

Miguel scoffs. “You did all this because I was rude to you? Por favorrr Dios, dame fuerza.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a breath. [Please God, give me strength.] “So when your boss criticizes your work you’re just gonna go out and break the law for some petty revenge?” 

“But you’re not my boss, that’s the difference.”

“And if I was, I'd fire you in a heartbeat.”

You meet his eyes, the two of you staring at each other unmoving as the music continues. The atmosphere of the club is beginning to get heavy. It’s getting harder to breathe with every minute that passes. You’re not sure whether that’s because there’s too many people here right now or if it’s because you’ve locked eyes with Miguel O’hara.

“I hate you.”

“Ditto here, nena .”

“M’going.” you announce abruptly, turning away from him. You barely make it a few steps away from him before a hand tightly grabs your wrist. You turn back expecting to see Miguel and forcefully push the figure away from you as hard as you can. 

“Hey! What the fuck? You made me spill my drink!”  are the words of the mouth of a complete stranger. 

“Oh shit–”

The stranger's expression turns to an angry frown yet he quickly disappears from view as Miguel stands between the two of you.

“Maybe keep your hands to yourself then, compa.” 

Miguel grabs you gently by the arm pulling you away. “Quick, before he gets angry. I think this asshole’s drunk.” He mumbles in your ear, his voice low and raspy.

“Who’s paying for my drink?” are the words that you leave behind to be swallowed up by the music.

Miguel takes you swiftly through the crowd, his height paying off in getting people to move out the way for him. “I’m taking you back to your dorm room. No ifs or buts.”

You barely have an argument to reply back with, your mind preoccupied with trying to make sense of that situation. 

Before you know it, you come to a halt in front of a table where a girl who you assume is your age is seated with a drink in her hand. Another person who you don’t know the name of is by her side. Her face lights up at the sight of you and Miguel.

“Jess, I’m going to take her home.”

“Whoa, whoa–”

He sighs, “Ay por dios– not my home. I’m taking her back to her dorm room, she’s someone I know and her drunk ass is gonna pass out any second.”

You observe Miguel’s friend in front of you, golden hoop earrings glistening under the club’s disco lights. You can’t pull your eyes away from her hair, black curls shaping her face.

“You’re really pretty!” you sob, tears beginning to blur your vision.

“Uhhh…thank you?” She raises a brow. “You too!”

You sob even harder, turning to Miguel. “She called me pretty!”

“And we’re going.”

Before you know it you’re whisked off, waving goodbye to a friend that you wanted to get to know better.

Stepping outside of the club, the cool air hits your body. The late October chill makes you shiver, almost regretting your decision at not bringing a thicker coat. Miguel keeps his hand on your wrist, he’s not holding you too tightly but just enough for you to keep your balance. He keeps close to your body, the warmth of him radiating over to your own. You hate it. How much you needed him. 

To keep you warm. Of course. That was all.

“I hate you, Miguel O’hara.”

“Uh-huh, you keep telling me that.”

“Just making sure that you don’t forget.”

“I sure won’t.”

You hate it. You hate him and his sarcastic attitude, his confidence and his ego. If he wasn’t so goddamn rude then you might have been more willing to accept the idea that you were attracted to him.

“You ruined my life.”

“You did that to yourself, nena .”

Silence comes between the two of you as you ponder on his words. The realization hits you abruptly. 

“I did, didn't I?”

You stop in your tracks, causing Miguel to do the same, his hand still around your wrist.

“Oh, please don’t start crying again–”

“I’m such a bad person,” you begin. “I-I-I ruined my life by trying to sell your car and I nearly got fired at my first ever job and I lied to my mom… I lied to my mom.” you emphasize.

Miguel shugs, “We all have, haven't we?”

“I lied to my mom about having a boyfriend!” You exclaimed. “And– and–and I’m a terrible daughter and I deserve death! and–and—

“ Hey , hey , don’t say that about yourself.” Miguel’s voice is stern, forcing you to look at him.

“But I lied and now she– she’s expecting me to bring someone over for thanksgiving and I don’t have anyone because I’m a liar and a criminal and I’m going to prison!” you sob harder, kneeling on the ground.

Miguel loses his grip on your wrist as you crouch down, crying. 

He looks around, searching for anybody nearby to help you and this…state that you’re in. But of course, there’s no one around on campus at two in the morning and he curses under his breath.

Bending down slightly, he decides to try the softer approach.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed and you can sleep and forget that this never happened.”

You lift up your head, tears dripping from your chin. “No. I- I won’t forget, I’ll just remember it all over again and– and –”

“Hey, look at me.” Your eyes meet his, this time with makeup dissolving down your face.  “I promise you’ll go to sleep and forget all about this okay? I promise.”

“Do you pinky promise?” You hold out your pinky in front of him. 

“I pinky-promise.” He sighs.

You shake your head, pouting. “No, you have to link with me.” He’s reluctant but it’s done and sealed for good. 

Slowly but surely he manages to get you to stand up again and starts to get you to walk. Through your drowsing speech he manages to figure out where you live based on which building you point to and he thanks the gods above that you don’t live far away from campus.

As you get nearer to your apartment, your tears slow down and you manage to recollect yourself, hiccuping every now and then as your sobs quieten down. You’re tired. Exhausted even. And you can’t wait for your head to hit the pillow. 

“Are you alright?” Miguel asks as you now approach your apartment building. 

You nod silently. He won’t try to get you to say anything anymore. 

He helps you up the flight of stairs, making sure that you don’t topple over. You grip his bicep for support, trying not to think about his scent, or the way he looks at you or the close proximity between the two of you as he helps you up each step.

You’ll question why he did all this tomorrow. But for now, you really just want some fucking sleep. Once you make it to your door, he stands to the side, silently watching you unlock it. The door swings open and you find yourself hesitating to get inside.

“You think you’ll be okay?” He asks, his voice soft.

You nod silently again. This is the part where you thank him for taking you home but you really don’t feel like it. Not to him. You nod in response.

Awkwardly, you enter your apartment, not looking back before closing the door. 

Your apartment is dark and cold. You don’t even want to turn on the lights, afraid that it’ll be too much of an eyesore. 

Your clothes that you were trying on with Lyla before you left are strewn across the living area. The black dress that you almost chose to wear tonight now crumpled over the couch. 

Entering your bedroom, you manage to blindly make your way to your bed. Not bothered to get out of your clothes or take off your make-up. The silence is eerily loud around you, second to, your heartbeat thumping loud in your ears.

“I hate you Miguel.” you say aloud, despite him being long gone.

And just like he promised, you fell asleep and managed to forget all about it. 

reblogs are much appreciatated!!

[fastcardotmp3]

thinking about nancy "comphet" wheeler surviving the trauma of the upside down, leaving hawkins to go to college, and finally feeling safe enough to slip out of survival mode and actually really see her romantic history and feel how she feels about it like

investigative reporter hat on, she systematically breaks down the difference between how she was supposed to feel, how she wanted to feel, and how she actually felt during her high school relationships; she tracks down books and essays and zines that deal with what it means to be a woman who loves women; she does her damn Research

and then over the summer she's back in hawkins and she has one more piece of her Multistep Plan and it involves knocking on Eddie Munson's door and very succinctly asking him to go to a gay club with her this weekend because "I'm figuring some things out."

and these two know each other, but not like either one of them knows Steve and Robin, so Eddie points out that hey are you sure you wouldn't rather one of your best friends to help you out with this? but Steve's a whole can of worms that she's not ready to come out to and Robin is "maybe one of the things I'm figuring out, shut up, Munson" so it's the Eddie and Nancy Show all the way to Indy on a Saturday night

and this place.

she gets to be surrounded by all these people with their own unique experiences but also so many which she shares and sure it's still a club and she's still going to watch her drink, but there's this sense of safety in numbers, especially since Eddie kind of refuses to leave her side as she has a very quiet breakdown that, after having a long conversation with a middle-aged lesbian turns into a bit more of an Actual Crying Breakdown

and this kindly butch is trying to comfort her and Nancy is just waving her off as quiet tears stream down her cheeks because she looks at Eddie and she laughs

"Is this a friend of yours, hon?"

"Yeah," Nancy beams at him through her tears, "yeah, he's a really good friend."

"You'll make sure she gets home okay?" the woman looks to Eddie sternly. "She's having a tough night, it seems."

Eddie nods, but he mostly just has this delighted grin tugging at his face because--

"Oh, she's okay, she's just figuring some stuff out," he says without looking away from Nancy's face. "These are freedom tears, huh, Nance?"

And Nancy Wheeler knows how to track down the truth, she's good with a mission and she's good with a plan and she knows, she has a fucking sixth sense for when she's landed the hook of a story and the hook of this one is in knowing that her love has always been real, it's just sometimes been different than how she initially read it.

So she laughs. She cries.

She smiles so big at Eddie Munson.

"Yeah," she agrees, "freedom tears."

[just-some-random-blogger]

Death By Bagel

NCT Culinary Student!Mark Lee x Fashion Design Student!Reader Summary: Mark makes a cake cause he's realized he can't lose you to some f-boy. Word Count: 3k+ Warnings: Fluff, childhood au, college au, slowish burn, slight cursing, reallllly fluffy, some broksi-dude action, typos sksksksks, etc.

R E Q U E S T my friend: mark lee, slow burn, friends to lovers

A/N: I wrote a fic that already had like 1k+ word then I LOST IT (i think i deleted it) thus this. It took me 10 years to write this msmsmkskskks. PLEASE TUMBLR IS MESSING WITH ME AND MIXED UP THE ORDER OF SOME OF THE DIALOGUE

“As a doctor, I don’t think you should be doing that,” Mark says, not even bothering to look at his patient seated rudely on the floor. Oop, he’s lying down now.

Mark huffs and looks up from the clay block he was molding on his tray, “YOU’RE SO UNPROFESSIONAL!”

Mark’s mother nearly spits out her coffee upon hearing the words of his five-year-old son. Her husband snorts, “He got that from you.”

The woman throws a look at the man and was supposed to give a snarky retort, up until the sound of the doorbell ringing. She grins from ear-to-ear and dashes to get the door.

When she comes back to the living room, she’s accompanies by another woman and a tiny version of her.

“Markie! Say hello to your Auntie!” Mark’s mom calls.

Mark from the carpeted floor looks up and blinks, examining the stranger-woman and its human-ling. Mark turns to his father who was sat on the couch and receives a nod of approval almost. Mark purses his lips and waves at the woman.

The woman waves back and then crouches down to the little girl, “Baby, say hello to Mark.”

Unwilling, she shakes her head.

“Aw come on, baby. Don’t be shy. Mark over there is a really sweet boy. I knew him when he was in his mommy’s tummy, just like Mark’s mom knew you when you were in mine. You’re the same age so you’ll get along just fine.”

With the unnecessary explanation that gave no justification to the scene whatsoever out of the way, the girl was fooled into peeping up, “Hi, Mark.”

“Hello,” Mark says, not particularly interested, as his patient was still in the midst of dying in his office. He turned to his stuffed toy called Mr. Lion and attempted to stand him up once more.

At this point, the girl makes her way to Mark.

“We’ll be back in two hours, honey. Keep an eye on the children,” Mrs. Lee tells his husband who had been occupied with TV the entire time.

“Yeah. I got this,” he smiles to his wife then goes back to watching.

The bumble bee clad figure sat down to Mark in blue and watched him play.

Mark ignored her for a few seconds, needing to assert all efforts on standing that dumb toy up. Once successful, Mark turns to her, “Do you play doctors?”

Mark was then met with the same lack on enthusiasm. She hums, “I like playing baker doctor.”

All at once, Mark gasps, “ME TOO!”

It was unbeknownst to the children it was oddly specific and the chance of this happening was pretty slim.

And in a blink of an eye, excited giggles erupt in the room, as if they had been having so much fun before this scene. It was here and there the two would become best friends to the very end.

... so I guess it means the reckoning is upon us.

“MARK LEE I SWEAR TO THE FU--” “WHAT! WHAT!?” Mark laughs.

"YOU ATE MY BAGEL! AGAIN!" I growl in a loud whisper, throwing the wrapper at him and his flat head before he could think to dodge it while he annoyingly laughs.

"I asked if I could have it though!" he says, fully knowing his sins.

I glared at him and say lowly, "I thought you were referring to my notes, bread for brains."

Mark snorts loud enough for our teacher to wake up from his nap. Once the class notices, we all pretend to be doing something productive and Mark plays it off with a cough.

"Mr. Lee." Mr. Kim says sternly, clicking his tongue, blinking his eyes rapidly.

Mark finishes coughing and turns to our seated professor, "Yes sir."

"Don't go to school if you're sick and going to cause a racket with your coughing."

Mark nods firmly and Mr. Kim closes his eyes again, mumbling, "page 65 is due tomorrow."

The entire class grumbles. Mark beside me scoffs and makes a face, "Yeah, yeah, Doyoung."

I turn to him and elbow his side.

"Whatever," Mark shakes his head, "professor bunny-teeth won't hear me."

Once class ended, we both get our things and head out for lunch. We walk to our canteen, fussing over assignments, deciding we should do it together later in our mutually free period.

I groan and narow your eyes at him as we have an argument over how he hasn't finished the essay for English, "That's not the point."

"Yo Mark!" a voice calls from afar. Mark and I turn, looking for the voice, and I spot the dimpled senior, Jung Jaehyun, in a table with the rest of his squad.

I nudge Mark and point at the pale guy seated by the corner.

Mark throws him a smile and waves. I follow closely behind him as he walks over to the table. "We're going to sit with them?" I say in some sort of gasp.

"Yeah." Mark replies simply, not bothering to turn to me, "they're cool."

I knit my brows at that and nod, "Yeah I know. But I'm not cute today."

Mark stops in his tracks and throws me a confused look, "what?"

"I didn't put any make-up on today, also I'm pretty sure there's a visible stain somewhere on my jacket, I just don't remember where."

Mark scrunches his face up again, even more confused. "What? How do you... forget a stai-- that's not the point. Why do you wanna look cute today?" He scoffs and continues lowly, "hardly as if you ever look cute."

I let out an annoyed groan and punch Mark's shoulder. "Like when you panicked when Seulgi came over and asked for notes."

Mark openes his mouth, "That is so not the same! Jaehyun's a fuck bo-"

"Just shut up already," I snap and shove him forward so he'd continue walking. "Let's not keep him waiting," I add and mumble, "also I know. Dong Sicheng however is very cute."

Mark chuckles, "he's dated every girl on the dance team."

"Okay, maybe not that cute."

"Ya, Mark," Jaehyun grins and greets the said person with a high-five and chest bump. He turns to me and speaks my name with a smile. I smile back politely and wave.

I'm about to sit next to Sicheng, but Mark shoves me and so I end up sitting on the other side of the bench table with Jaehyun. I turn to Jaehyun with a small, non-awkward smile and shoot Mark a glare. He seems unbothered though.

"So, you up for a round later?" Jaehyun asks Mark.

Mark talks over me, "you know it, dude."

Jaehyun flashes his dimple smile all the stupid girls fall for. I'm only half falling for it cause I'm only half stupid. He raises his brows, "you bought the dough, right?"

This makes me knit my brows.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I really did this time," Mark mumbles quickly. "It's my turn anyway."

Jaehyun gives an off look, "that's literally what you said last time bro."

"Yo, no for real. It's in my bag, if you wanna check."

Jaehyun shakes his head when Mark begins to scramble for it, "no, Lee, it's good. We wouldn't want you friend to get dirty."

Is it just me or do you feel slimey all of a sudden?

Jaehyun then gives me a somewhat, somehow sincere smile, "so. I hear you're in fashion design."

I give a soft chuckle, "yeah. That's me."

"I could tell from a mile away. Mark looks horrible next to your getup."

I look down at my sweater and ripped jeans. Mark exclaims in protest, "shut the hell up, Jae."

I give a soft smile at Jaehyun, "don't know where that comes from but thanks I guess."

Jaehyun chuckles, "I'm kidding," he eyes Mark, "I saw your Fashion Design pin on your bag when you sat down."

"Oooohhhh, haha, okay, that makes sense."

"Ya, Jeff," Sicheng calls for Jaehyun, "it's almost time."

Jaehyun turns to his friend and nods. He turns back to me and Mark, "well, it's nice to meet you. Mark won't put a sock in it even if I beg. See you around, fashionista."

He stands and slaps Mark's back, "see ya later, broski."

"Yeah, bruh," Mark replies.

Once it's just Mark and I, I snap at him and blurt out in a whisper yell, "YOU'RE ON BROSKI LEVEL WITH JUNG JAEHYUN?!"

Mark gives me a weird face, "bruh, I think he calls the principal broski, for real."

I smack Mark, making him whine, "you know what I'm talking about, Mark! And what, are you doing drugs?!?"

He shakes his head in confusion, "Wait, what!? Who the hell told you that?"

"Uhhhhh you were talking about dough and showing up later. Sounds like you owe him money for drugs, Mark."

"??? In what universe did we even mention drugs?? Does this," he slaps his face, "look like a face of a drug addict to you?"

"A gullible idiot maybe."

Mark's jaw drops, "oh wow, okay. I'm done with this conversation." He proceeds to stand attempt to walk away. I scoff, "not on my watch bitch."

Like the true idiot that he is, Mark begins to legit run away from me, like a criminal who stole my cookies. It's embarrassing that he, a man much taller than I, could not even outrun me. I suppose I should be grateful, but this just fortifies my thoughts of him being an idiot even more.

But okay... I wasn't actually expecting this... like... Mark and Jaehyun... like... actually baking bread after school with dough Mark premade at home. Also, uh, Jaehyun looks super cute in an apron that I'm having a mental breakdown. And what's new, so does Mark.

"I can't believe you thought I was a drug dealer," Jaehyun says in a soft pout as he rolls out dough on the marble counter of his friggin large kitchen in his friggin large house. Like dang, I knew he was rich, but he's like Rich™ Rich. Rich with a golden diamond encrusted Rolex watch rich that's in a glass display rich-- wtf.

Mark wheezes in his telltale high pitched laugh as he opens a pack of unsweetened chocolate pellets, "she thought dough was some sort of metaphor or something."

"Cute," they say at the same time. Mark turns to Jaehyun in slight surprise and Jaehyun turns to me. I roll my eyes, though I feel my neck burn. I avert my attention to the scene I was sketching on my pad, Jaehyun and Mark baking croissants. I clear my throat, "I'm just making use of the single braincell between us, cause if he doesn't die falling down the stairs, he's gonna pull some idiotic stuff like baking with Jung Jaehyun."

Oddly, it's Mark that reacts to that with a, "hey!"

Jaehyun rubs his chin on his shoulder, "I also can't believe you think so little of me.'

I break a sweat but decide to answer honestly, "... ... ... You have a reputation."

"Of being a fuck boy?"

Mark loudly transfers the chocolates into a metal bowl, making the two of us snap at him. Mark makes a face, "oh gosh, sorry."

Jaehyun sighs, "well. I admit I get around, but that's only because I get dumped every time."

I raise a brow.

Jaehyun purses his lips, "nah, let's not make this weird. The croissants will be flat."

"Dude," Mark turns to him, "that's literally only because you messed up the recipe."

Jaehyun grits his teeth, "no. It's because Kun's a little teacher's pet and sabotaged me so he could get the best grade."

"No, but like Kun is really nice, he helped me with the fold techinique."

Jaehyun scoffs, "He stole me vanilla extract, Mark. Who does that?!"

"No, listen, he's cool, like, for real--"

"No, you listen, he's a little shit and--"

The two begin to bicker like a married couple, and I begin to draw inspiration form the scene to design some random sketches of wedding dresses.

I look back to the two and still can't get over the fact that I learned Jaehyun was a culinary arts major with my best friend, and that I was currently in the Jung's boojie home because I thought Mark was buying drugs from him. Not what I was expecting at all my day to go like, but I'm not mad this is how it went.

"No, no, no, no," Jaehyun says. He turns to me and points, "let's just get an outside opinion. Babe, what's your favorite color?"

"BABE?!" Mark barks.

I take a moment to reply. I blink slowly, "uhh... pink?"

Jaehyun bites his lower lip and claps his flour covered hands, "Right. Pink croissants it is."

Mark shoots him a glare and turns to me, back to Jaehyun, "she has a name."

Jaehyun nods, "yeah, and she wants pink croissants."

Mark makes a face and Jaehyun examines it, chuckling under his breath. "Wah, you two are something, huh."

No one really responds.

We began to always eat lunch with Jaehyun and his friends. It's funny cause I realized Jaehyun, although I still firmly believed he was out to get nasty with every other girl he sees, he was actually just like Mark. A total loser with a love for cooking.

"Hey," Mark says with a snippy tone.

I give him a look and suddenly receive a paper bag to my face. Mark sits on his chair next to me, as per usual. I smell the thing before I realize what it is. It's a freshly baked bagel. I perk up and smile, "Aw, you baked me a bagel?"

Mark raises his upper lip, "no. Jaehyun did."

I knit my brows, "what? Why?"

Mark narrows his brows, "do you, like, like him?"

I give him a look. I take a bite of the bagel, making Mark look at me in disbelief. I answer, "You do know I only hang with him cause you do, right?"

"Then why'd you eat the bagel then?"

"Uh, a number of reasons. 1) it's a bagel, 2) free food, 3) I'm starving, 4) it smells amazingggg."

Mark does a face, "fair. I've been meaning to ask how he does his seasoning for a while now too." He releases a breath, "and anyway, I'm pretty sure he made a bagel cause I told him you liked them. Never talking about you to him anymore though."

I look at him, "why do you talk about me so much to him anyway?"

"Uh because you're amazing," Mark says instinctively.

I feel my heart skip at that. I coo and place my hands on my chest, "wait that's really sweet."

Mark looks at me. His face begin to shift, "too bad it's a lie- haha."

I give him a look and rebut, "jerk."

"Loser."

As quickly as I found out about Jaehyun being Mark's friend, that's about as quickly as I found out he didn't like hanging out with him anymore. It's kind of a shame I never got to go back to his boojie house.

There was this one encounter I had with Jaehyun though... which was a little weird, not gonna lie.

He was waiting for me outside my Tailoring class, smiling and waving when he saw me. I Reluctantly reciprocated and walked over to him.

He releases a breath, "I've been waiting for about 20 minutes for you. I didn't know when your class would end."

I raise my brows, "you could have asked?"

"Well I would need your number for that, and that would have ruined the surprise," he pulled out a brown paper bag, reminiscing the same one Mark chucked at my face.

"I made you two this time," he smiles.

I take a moment to reply, "you don't have to make me bagels, Jaehyun."

He grabs my hand, "yeah, but I want something out of ya," he places the bagels in my hand. He proceeds to lead us off and we begin to walk down the hall.

Truth be told, it's a little scary that his ulterior motive is up in the air. Jaehyun places his hands in his pockets, "I like your dress, by the way."

I smile, "thanks. I made it."

He smiles and nods, "right. That makes sense as to why it suits you well."

I can't help but blush at that, and simultaneously feel conscious when I realize a bunch of girls in my course are looking at me and Jaehyun as we strut down the hall.

"So, what did you want, Jaehyun?"

"Well, I clearly wanted to ask you out."

"..."

"..."

Jaehyun smiles and give a soft laugh, "is it so ground breaking?"

"... Uh..."

He sniggers, "hey, you can say no. I mean I hope you don't but you can." Jaehyun leans in and raises his hands, "I won't like it, but a man should take rejection from a lady well."

I turn to him as he straightens up. I turn to the bagels he made me and bring it back to him. He laughs, "no, I made them for you really. It's not poisoned, in fact it's made with love."

I visibly react to that, which makes Jaehyun wheeze. I can't help but laugh back, "that was hella tacky."

"Worth a shot though," he says. "Good luck with Mark."

I look at him with silence and he chuckles, "ya, you can't fool me."

I'm about to retort but then Jaehyun gets called by one of the frats dudes I identify as Johnny Seo. Jaehyun does a curtsy and clicks his tongue, "see ya later babez."

"You know, I would have said yes if you didn't do stuff like that."

Jaehyun purses his lips, "no you wouldn't."

I shrug, "worth a shot though."

Jaehyun places a hand on his chest, dramatically calling, "Uh, rejection hurts, man."

Yeah, I never went to Jaehyun's boojie house ever again.

Silver lining though was Mark's dorm smelled equally as nice because of all the food he cooks, although it came with a whiff of axe body spray from his roommate, Lucas. It's cool though, he was almost never around for me to smell it in its whole intensity.

"Aite," Mark calls from his side of the dorm. I perk up from the two seater dining table they had and turn to Mark who was covering the cake he was making for his finals.

"Don't, like, peek, okay. I want you to see the cake all at once and give me your honest reaction to it. Please, like, all my lives kinda depend on it."

"How many lives do you have?"

"9, I'm pretty sure."

I stand from my seat, "not you faking your life as a cat, but get it I guess."

Mark raises a hand at me as I walk over, "can you not, I'm high-key panicking right now."

"Over what? You literally made a box of donuts for your midterms and it looked better than Misty Mreme! I'm sure your cake is hot."

"It was in the minifridge for a day. I mean it barely fit cause of all of Lucas' mountain dew."

I groan, "just show me it, Mark Lee!"

Mark whined and dashes over to me, grabbing my shoulders, "okay, but like, don't be mean about it. I swear, I might cry."

I give a sound and fake cough, "it's ugly."

Mark doesn't respond to that particular jab, "I'm serioussss. Please be kind, okay?"

I look at Mark's nervous face and give a soft pout, "Markie, please, not that I think it would be ugly, but I promise you don't have to be nervous about my reaction."

He isn't soothed by that, but he does release a sigh, "okay. So for context, Mr. Moon wanted the cake to be one or two tiers, but I went with one, cause there aint no way I'm going to the other side of the campus to freeze a two tiered cake. Then, the theme was something from your childhood, so, I, uh, thought this was fitting. The exam is 60 percent decoration, 40 percent taste by the way."

Mark gives me a hesitant look, but steps way for me to see it. I then see a heart shaped, medium sized cake in my favorite pastel pink color. By the top there's a little boy on the floor playing with a toy oven set and little girl in a bumble bee dress, holding a stethoscope. At the bottom of the cake, there were jelly letters spelling out, "I like you."

I cup my cheeks at the sight of it and feel my eyes start to well at the sentiment.

Wait... was this really happening?

Mark heaves in and out, "okay, so like when Jaehyun began to like hit on you, that sucked pretty hard because he's known for getting girls and I thought maybe he'd get you too and I got panicky. Anyway, I....... have liked you since we were kids... And... I know you probably don't feel the same way but I have to try, you know.... Yolo."

My feel my tears retract from what I hear. I rub my eyes. I turn to Mark and find his nervous face. "Did you just say yolo in your confession, Mark?"

He looks like he's about to throw up.

I can't help but chuckle and pout, "dude..."

I prolong the moment. Mark gets even more nervous as he repeats softly, "dude..."

"We could have dated in grade school all this time."

It takes a moment to register in his head.

Like, a really long moment.

I sigh, "Mark! I like you too, dummy."

He freezes and blinks. His face begins to burn. He breaks into a soft smile, "nice."

I break into a laugh.

"... Uh... So... Can I like... Kiss you?"

I snort and feel my own cheeks begin to burn, "I think you should refrigerate your cake first."

Mark snaps out of this trance, "oh shoot, you-" I give him a quick peck on the lips.

He is dumbfounded.

I feel butterflies go wild in my stomach.

"I'll wait over there for when you've fixed that."

Mark watches as I walk away, "yooo.... That's not fair though."

[bellylivesthepoguelife]

Overwhelmed. John B x Sarah

Request: Hi! How about a college related drabble? Sarah is super overwhelmed with exams coming up and calls John B starting to panic. He comes to see her and plans a whole night to distract her and comfort her 🥰

Word Count: 1.7K

A/N: I know that I didn’t QUITE follow the whole request on this, but it was getting a bit long, so I hope that makes up for it! I wrote this after I wrote the 500 words of pure angst for these two, so I apologize if it’s a little too angsty. Also, I’m still trying to get comfortable writing the comedic/banter parts of a lot of the pogues relationships. (I’m just not naturally witty so I really have to try!) Anyways, I hope you like it! Please let me know what you think!

Heroes and Villains of the Middle Ages was not a class that Sarah Cameron would have ever taken for fun. But when it satisfied one of her General Education requirements, it's not like she really had much of a choice in the matter. The fact that the professor was about as fascinating as the girls from high school that messaged her saying she'd be a "perfect fit" for joining their pyramid marketing business didn't help. So having to write an essay on 4 chapters of her "textbook" (each chapter ranging anywhere between 30-50+ pages long) was grating her brain, as she legitimately has zero desire to complete it.

An hour into her attempt to read the assigned chapters had her overwhelmed. She couldn't even pretend to find the content interesting, she had no clue how she was going to write a 1,000 word essay on it, and to put the icing on the cake: this was one of four that needed to be completed in the next two weeks as part of her final exam. Exasperated at the thought, she throws the book half way across the room as she finished the second chapter. Making it halfway through warrants a break, right?

She scrolls through instagram to allow her brain to run on auto-pilot for awhile. She scrolls past a photo JJ posted 43 minutes ago, of him, John B, and Kie hanging out at the Chateau. JJ snapped the photo, Kie leaning into him, laughing, while John B is in the background making a "you-caught-me-doing-something-I-shouldn't-have" face, no doubt saying something resulting in the laughs from the other two.

The picture makes her smile. Not just because it's of her friends, but also because between John B and JJ, they'll do just about anything to make their friends laugh. It causes her heart to flutter, and she decides to call him to further distract herself.

It doesn't take long for him to pick up, but it's not John B who answers the phone, it's JJ. "Hey Princess! How's college treatin' ya?!"

"Busy, boring, and yet still somehow not captivating enough to keep me from missing you."

"Oh, so you do miss me."

She rolled her eyes, "of course I do JJ."

"Not as much as you miss JB though, I'm sure." There's a pause, but before she can respond he's rushing out the words: "Oh, speaking of! Okay, Here's John B, I'll talk to you later, love you bye!"

She can tell John B is pulling the phone away from him by the decrescendo of his voice as he gets farther from the microphone. However, the sound of her boyfriends voice filling the speaker at her ear makes her smile even more.

"Hey Val." He greets, and she can tell he's smiling.

"Vlad. I must say it is nice to know that JJ misses me. Even though he won't admit it in as many words."

"Yeah, I think it's safe to say we all do."

"Is Kie still there?"

"Nah, she has to work tomorrow so she went home about 20 minutes ago. How did you know she was over?"

"I saw the picture JJ posted on instagram."

"Ahhh, yeah, that would explain it." She heard him walking around, saying goodnight to JJ before closing what she assumed was the door to his bedroom.

"Did y'all have fun?"

"We did- JJ what the hell, I just told you goodnight." He must have opened the door to John B's room.

Sarah could hear JJ say, "yeah but I didn't say goodnight to Princess! Night Princess!" He calls louder, making sure she can hear him.

"Goodnight JJ!" She calls back, knowing she was more than likely on speaker phone.

"Night Birdshit!" is the last thing she hears before she hears the door slam.

John B is back on the phone in an instant. "I swear, I might actually kill him tonight."

She laughs at their antics, and a bittersweet feeling settles in her chest as she realizes just how much she misses her friends.

"So," John B starts again, "How's your homework coming?"

Sarah scoffs. "Don't remind me."

"That bad?"

"It's just this class is so boring!" He's heard her rant about it a million times, but he lets her do it again. "I mean, it's a 400 level class. And I understand those are the more difficult ones, but--fuck--this is hard, and it's not even interesting in the slightest!"

"Which makes it only about a million times worse."

"It does!" She agrees, thankful that he's empathetic to her suffering. "And I have my Chemistry final next week, and my English 102 research paper due the week after. Nevermind the final project for my Geology, and Quantitative Reasoning class that I've only just started on--" She's ranting, and she knows it.

"Woah. Easy there, Val." He chuckles despite her. "You'll work yourself up."

"I am worked up!" The more she talks, the more overwhelmed she gets, and soon she realizes she's pacing her small room. "I just want to come home." The confession almost stuns her as she's catapoulted into a sea of homesickness, and even the knowledge that she'll be home for the summer in two weeks time doesn't even begin to calm the waves.

"You'll be home in a couple weeks, babe. Just 2 more, and then you're mine for the summer."

She knows he's trying to change her perspective, but she's not in the mood tonight. She's sad, and wants the space to allow herself to be sad. A half-hearted "yeah" is all she manages.

"Hey," John B doesn't miss the dejected tone of her voice, realizing how upset she truly is. "It's gonna be alright, Val. 2 more weeks is a piece of cake after the past seven months."

They'd seen each other since she started college, of course, but even then, the last time they were together was when she came home for Wheezie's lacrosse game 5 weeks ago. And after spending almost every day of last summer together, the distance began to do it's damage. Not on their relationship, no, their relationship was still so, so good. It was just on nights like tonight, when she was so overwhelmed that no matter what she thought of, it only made the drowning feeling three times worse.

She feels her throat tighten and before it even registers that she's getting emotional, she feels the gentle pricks behind her eyes indicating it won't be long and she'll be crying. "It's just really hard right now." She confesses, annoyed with how her voice is full of emotion, which is going to cause John B to go into his protective, "I'll-be-your-hero-and-fix-everything" mode.

And sure as shit, his tone becomes softer, and he's building her up. "I know it is, Sarah, but you're doing so well. I know this has been an adjustment for you, and for us, and it hasn't been easy, but you've been doing so well. You're killing it at college, and you only have these last two weeks, these last exams and projects and then you're home for the summer."

She nods, knowing that he's speaking truth, but still feeling discouraged. "It's just, everything's happening at once right now, and I'm just so overwhelmed, and there's just so much pressure riding on these last projects, and--I just want you."

"What do you mean?" She can tell he's laughing at her rambling confession.

"I mean I just want you. I miss you, John B." Great, that broke the dam, and now she's really crying. "I miss hugging you, and kissing you, and just being next to you. Because at least when I was home and busy, we were still together. Now I have to do all of this by myself, and I just feel so alone, and I just want to come home." She didn't intend to share all of these subconscious thoughts and feelings when she called him on the phone. She had initially just called for a distraction, and to see how JJ and Kie were doing. But sometimes the breakdowns come when you least expect them.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" The question is not how she expected him to respond.

She sniffs, thinking through what her Saturday plans were. "I'm- going to finish this essay, probably work on my projects, and study?" She phrases it like a question, even though she's answering his. After hearing silence for a little too long, she adds, "Why?"

"I'm on my way."

"What?" If she wasn't expecting him to ask what she was doing tomorrow, she REALLY doesn't expect him to say he's coming to see her at 10pm on a Friday.

"What do you mean you're on your way."

"I'm coming to see you." He answers as if it's the simplest thing in the world. She can hear his smile as he talks, probably patting himself on the back for being the hopeless romantic, her knight in shining armor, coming to distract her from her scholarly obligations.

"John B, you don't have to do that." Of course, she wants him to. But it's a ways to drive, and she knows his van isn't cheap to fill with gas.

"Shut up Val." He laughs. "I'm going to spend the weekend with you. But on one condition." He thinks, and then doubles back. "Okay, two conditions."

She rolls her eyes, always thinking there's no way she can be more in love with this man, and then he does stuff like this to prove her wrong. "And what are your conditions?"

"One. You have to write your essay. And I'm going to help you study. You don't just get a 'get out of jail free' card just because your man is coming to see you." He gets her to laugh with that one.

"My man?"

"Yes. That is what I am, isn't it? Your man?"

"Sure. And what's the second condition?"

"You have to buy me my own bag of Skinny Pop." Her eyes automatically roll for probably the 15th time tonight. "Okay, agreed. I will go to the store, and buy you your own bag of Skinny Pop."

"And you can't have any of it." He ammends.

"Alright, fine. And I won't have any of it." She grudgingly agrees.

"Deal."

"Deal."

"That settles it then! I'm on my way!"

"Drive safe, loser."

"I love you, Sarah."

She smiles to herself. "I love you too, John B."

"I'm serious though, don't eat my Skinny Pop before I get there."

[mysecretatticsstuff]

Pranks

Pairing : Jeon jungkook x reader

Word count: 27.3k

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, emotional breakdown.

Summary: You thought you were going to enjoy college. Even with unfortunate events and a poor sleep schedule you were trying to live your best life. Untill one particular kid, aka golden boy of campus came dashing into your life.

College. The place you got excited to go thinking you would finally meet good people, make friends and have the time of your life. And yet here you are, 3 am in the morning just barely hanging in there with a paint brush in your hand finishing up the poster that was supposed to be a group project for physiology class. You have dozed off a couple of times now, with eyes open doing the detailed line work that you suggested not to put in it because of the amount of time it takes. You almost messed it up but your multitasking skills save you. In short you hate college. Or more so, you hate your luck for always putting you in the companionship of the worst people in the world. You can now permanently stamp a "pissed off" warning to your forehead to avoid casualties.

Grumpy wasn't even a mood anymore, it's a lifestyle. And some people just make it real difficult for you to not eat them alive. On top of that list was Mr. Jeon Jungkook. Golden boy, good at whatever he does, loved by everyone he has a conversation with. Well except for you. You on the other hand want to kill him. Not because you're jealous or anything. Heck you would be happy for him if he didn't make your life a living hell. You always wondered what you did for him to hate your existence so much. He kept pulling off weird ass stunts with you. Once he filled your water bottle with chilli tomato ketchup, you took a gulp without knowing and had a red face for a legit hour. Another time he issued the last copy of only book that had the reference you needed and kept it untill a day before the assignment was due. So you had to beg him to give the book to you and complete the whole assignment in one day. (Which was not fun of course). He mixed salt in your drink, splashed water from behind while you were returning to your apartment and what not. At first you thought to ignore him, when the stunts were small. But he just kept doing that shit and you grew angrier. When you asked him, why the heck was he doing that to you he just simply smiled like a devil, winked at you and walked away. That was a year ago, since that day you have been wanting to kill him.

You weren't the aggressive type by nature, your friends would agree that you were the most calm and collected, amiable and open minded friend in the group. Your personality was more of a mediator than a murderer. But the golden boy brought out the beast in you. When you realised that he isn't stopping with the obnoxious pranks. You started pulling off your own as a revenge. To be honest you didn't even regret it. Heck it was even cathartic. Once you hid his clothes while he was in the gym, so basically he had to wait inside the bathroom for the whole day in a towel. (You took his phone too so that he couldn't call anyone for help). You "accidentally" splashed juice onto his crisp white t-shirt before an early morning class. You wrapped his bike with cling film and bubble wrap. It was tiring but worth it when you saw his face, glaring daggers at you cause he was getting late for class and couldn't leave his apartment. You made sure you smiled sweetly at him when he saw you that day.

By now, everyone in your friend circle and both of your departments knew how you both jumped at the first opportunity to ruin each others day. You stopped questioning Jungkook because he never answered instead you focused on how to attack him in the best way.

The past two months have been extra rough for you, both personally and academic wise. Hence, jungkook's bickering has had you in a new level of pissed. A level you didn't know existed. Honestly you were amazed by the fact that you haven't had a breakdown till now. You didn't get any chance to pull anything off against him and that makes you angrier. I guy you were talking to back and forth has suddenly ghosted you and you are wallowing in all the self pity. You've had less than 4 hours of sleep for the past week because of all the requirements for class. You're just a week away from finishing everything off and you're praying that the devil doesn't make it impossible.

You personally hated Mondays, but who are you kidding everyday feels like a monday now. You head to the library first thing in the morning to finish your paper, a semester worth of work. You settle in starting to type out the last page. About an hour later your phone vibrates.

"Hey where are you?" It was Sunmi your best friend.

"I'm in the library" you wisper shout

"Oh.. i had something urgent to say to you can you come out for a second. I'm almost there."

"Okay, coming" you say.

Outside, sunmi was waiting for you with a book in hand.

"Jeez, y/n you look dead. Do you even sleep anymore?"

You sigh out loud, "Don't ask, i feel like i'm gonna pass out anytime soon. Coffee isn't helping anymore. I think i need drugs"

Sunmi just shakes her head in disbelief "What you need is a good night sleep. And for the drugs part, try sex." She says this in such sincerity that you actually consider it for a second before she laughs.

You laugh too, "Uggh, i can't wait to finally go out this weekend, i'm turning into a hermit. Anyways i'm sure u didn't call me out here to talk about hookups..?"

At this she hands you the book, "Yeah I didn't, but we need to talk about your dry state after you're free tho, but till then here you go. The book that you were searching for, you wouldn't believe how I.. or i should say where I found it I-... "

"Wait... Before you start your essay, i need to finish my paper. I meet you after your classes today. Tell me then. I need to go... Bye!" you hurriedly say before you turn around and enter the library

"But it's about Jungkook... " Sunmi tries to explain. But she realises you can't hear her anymore. She says to herself rather, "I hope you don't find trouble."

You almost reach your designated place when you see him. White T-Shirt and olive green cargos. That little shit, what was he up to again? You hurry to your laptop, only to find him smirking as if he knows some secret you don't.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" You ask. "Ooh.. chill Princess, just thought i'd see you and your work". At the mention of work you wake your computer up. A chill ran down through your spine followed by panic when you couldn't find the document you saved. After a moment, your eyes shot up, glaring dangerously at him. He sat up, folding his arms onto the table. "What's wrong? Can't find something?"

"What the fuck did you do, Jeon?" You wanted to scream bloody murder at him, but you didn't know how were you this calm.

"Tsk, tsk,.. last names now huh? Someone's angry. Tell me princess, will I win a prank of the year trophy this time?"

You were unable to speak. Your blood boiled, you wanted to punch him, better kill him. When you didn't reply he continued. "I hope you remember what your wrote in your thesis, even better if your typing skills are on fire, cause you need to rewrite within one week" He was putting a full display of his evil grin. Clearly amused by the situation he put you in. But you slowly realised what he meant. You quickly went to the recycle bin of your computer to test your luck, but soon saw that the demon had already deleted it from the bin too. Your heart sank. This was not fair. You wanted to cry now. Months and months of your hardwork, gone now. What the fuck was that bitch even thinking. This was not a joke anymore. It was your finals. Yes you both have done horrible things to each other but you made sure that it never got out of line. But him deleting your final thesis. This was definitely out of the line. You could not rewrite the whole thing even if you tried in a week. It would never get close to the original one. You would miss many points and the writing style. Damn you for not keeping an extra copy of the thesis somewhere. But again, you never thought Jungkook would go this low. You didn't even want to think how he figured out the passcode for your laptop. Anger doesn't describe what you were feeling now. You wanted to shut down. When Jungkook didn't hear a threatening or a curse, he chimed in. "Have I pulled the most epic prank on miss y/n that it finally shut her smart mouth?"

You couldn't bare it anymore, all these weeks of running around with just 4 hrs of sleep or sometimes non has made you physically weak. You wanted to escape. You throat hurt from the suppressed tears. But you were not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You look at jungkook in the eye. Cold. You stand up, take your things and leave.

All the way to your apartment, you wanted to cry, but you waited till you were inside the safe heaven of your bed.How could he do this to you? When this crazy prank scenario started you couldn't comprehend why the nicest guy ( according to students and professors) had taken a toll on you. Yes you were angry at the beginning. But soon it had simmered down to something else. You couldn't pin point what, exactly. It's true his pranks were delirious and you hated him with all your will, but you couldn't help notice the small ways he made a difference in your life. You were an over-thinker, and this stupid game of pranks with him kept you busy. It was kind of the only source of entertainment for you as academics was no joke. It's difficult to explain but you became more productive because of him. You became a more open person, you made a lot of friends and most of the conversations started with how people don't understand why both of yo fight. Jungkook's friends became your friends too. You found out a lot of things about him through them. One that he was a naturally competitive person. He was a big softy inside they said, that was a bit hard to believe for you. But once he stood up for you when you were being cat called, he was so close to beating the shit out of the boys, nevertheless you dragged him out of it. He walked you to your apartment without even uttering a word. You wanted to say thank you, but the very next day he deflated your tires. And the saga continued. The moral of the story is you definitely had developed a soft spot for him. And this prank was definitely a blow to your ego and your heart.

All the emotions, the exhaustion just came crashing down and you let the dam break. You cried like a baby, whether because of the grief of your lost files, anger or because of him entirely you didn't know. You woke up 3 hours later, with puffy eyes and a blocked nose. You decided you can't let him get to you. So you did what you do best, turn all the frustration into anger towards him. You arranged all the resources for your thesis, and then you sat down with your laptop typing away from the beginning.

You didn't go to college next day, thought it would be better to stay at home and work. There were no classes anyways. You already sent an email to your professor informing him that there was a technical difficulty and you lost your files. Your professor was kind enough to excuse you from all the classes that week to work on your thesis stating that you had good attendance already. Sunmi called you, she felt guilty about the whole thing. "I should have known there was something fishy when that asshole gave me the book. I shouldn't have asked you to come out".

"Hey, it's fine, it's not your fault. I'll kill him with my own hands once everything is over"

"Still.. i feel super bad. Let me know if you need anything. I can bring you books from the library.."

"Thank you sun, i'll let you know if I need anything.. "

"Okay.... Oh and y/n,.. Jungkook came looking for you today. He seemed anxious? kinda worried even. I told that fucker i don't know where you are. Thought you should know"

Jungkook was looking around for you, that's weird. Was he feeling guilty? You always came up with a new prank. Maybe he is just surprised you vanished. "Hmmm... Thanks, i don't want him to know anything about me, Anyways i couldn't careless about him now. See you later".

"Take care y/n".

It was 10 pm when you stood up from your desk, your shoulders and wrists were stiff from all the typing. You realised you hadn't eaten anything for 7 hours now. It was raining heavily, you felt a bit dizzy. When you finally get out of college, this would be a hell of a story to tell though. You missed home dearly, you wanted someone to just hold you and assure you that everything is going to be okay. You took some leftover pizza from your fridge and put it in the microwave. Sometimes living alone just gets to you. All the loneliness, all the times you wished someone was there to comfort you. Your body ached and you felt pathetic about yourself. 'Why me?' was your question. A mixture of all these thoughts and emotions were swirling in your head and you didn't even realize that you were crying now. This was your 3rd breakdown in a span of two days.

"Pathetic" you muttered to yourself. Then your heard the bell ring. Confused at who came by at this ungodly hour, you wiped your tears and went to get the door.

You didn't expect the person you were staring at. Doe eyes slowly scanned you, from your feet to face. Jungkook.

You must have puffy red eyes, you think. God you didn't want him to see you like this. All petty and defeated. He was partially soaked from the rain. Jungkook just stood there, staring back at you. You waited for him to speak, when he didn't, you finally spoke, "What are you doing here?"

"I didn't see you in college today" he replied. Jungkook looked guilty? Sad even. "Why didn't you attend?" He asks next.

"That's non of your business" that came out harsher than you thought. At this his face turned stern. "Were you crying?"

At this point you don't know what or when will you break down. You could already feel a little lump forming in your throat. You looked down at your feet. "Go away, i have work". That came out so fragile and weak, you cringed internally. He stepped in. Searched around in his pocket and brought out a small USB in his hand. You looked at it and then his face.

"Your files" he said.

"You... why would you even... What the fuck? Jungkook!" With every word your voice rose. You thought he was feeling guilty, but he was just a little brat, playing games. All your softness was gone now.

You could tell by his devilish smirk that he was enjoying this way too much. "Who do you think you are?" You saw red with anger. With that much of a volcano boiling inside you, you were not sure what were you doing. Your hand flew up involuntarily. Lets just say, you would have punched him if it wasn't for his quick reflexes. He grabbed your wrist, turned you around. His other arm swiftly snaked around your waist.

"Woah.. easy princess. You sure you can fight me?" He tightens his grip around you. You hate to admit how badly it affects you. You can feel your knees going weak. His taught chest pressed against your back. You can feel him way too much through your thin t shirt. Your face heats up without you wanting it. No, no, no, no, you can't let your stupid hormones get to you. This is crazy. You hate him. Then why do you suddenly feel hot? As if on cue he lowers his head and whispers in your ear, " You okay, sweetheart?"

The new pet name, sends a spike of electricity just between your legs. You bite your lip to control the moan that threatens to leave your mouth. He notices the change too, the tension between you two is growing. You turn around to face him. He lets you. "I hate you."

His arms are still around you, circling your waist. He looks soft, as if relieved of some burden. Your clothes are getting wet from the contact. You don't know what to say, because you can hardly process what is happening. Just then your microwave beeps to your rescue.

You half jump half stumble away from him. "Uggh, i'll bring you a towel. Be right back."

When you return, he is standing in front of the couch. Looking godly. You sneak a glance at his chest and now hardened nipples before landing your eyes on his face. You hand him the towel. As if a half soaked jungkook wasn't enough. He swifty stripped off his t-shirt before drying himself off. You freeze. He looks at you gaze piercing.

"W- why.. did you do that?"

"You need to be a bit more specific sweetheart" he takes a step closer to you. You don't move away.

"The pranks.. why do you hate me so much, that you need to make my life a living hell?" You said softly.

"Helps me sleep at night." He smirks. You rolled your eyes at this. You were about to turn around when he grabs you by hand.

"I don't hate you. It's quite the opposite actually" Your eyebrows shot up at this. "yeah right. You think you can fool me again?" You scoff.

"I know you're a fool sometimes, but to be honest y/n I didn't know you were this dense" He mocked with a smirk.

"What the fuck? Okay that's it. Get out of my house Jeon" you demanded.

"What if I say no, Princess?"

You couldn't believe it. This guy has the audacity to mock you in your own house and then refuse to leave. You were beyond irritated now.

"How do people like you? You're such an ass. Leave before-..." you didn't get to complete the sentence before he pulls you towards him, with such force that you stumble, loose your balance and fall straight on his chest.

HIS BARE CHEST. GOD THIS WAS BAD. You felt your throat getting dry. You couldn't speak. He was firm, you kind of wonder about how much he works out. You could feel his silky smooth skin. You just stared at him, like a deer caught in headlights.

"That's it? You're not gonna 'make me' leave princess?" He says, with his face inches away from you.

*Pull it together y/n* you scold yourself mentally. But you body just froze and it feels hot. You probably have a red face now. You make another mistake of glancing at his lips, which are so damn close, it kinda makes you feel things you can't explain.

Jungkook notices this. He sees right through you. He finally speaks, "If you still haven't got it y/n, i don't know what to do with you... I... " He sighs, "I like you y/n. A lot. And I don't know how to behave when i'm around you, so I keep teasing you.." he says with a sincere look. "And besides.. you look hot, when you are angry at me" He smiles.

You realise you're still holding each other. Your heart is hammering in your chest. He probably can feel it beating too. You want to punch him for being such a jerk, but you also want to kiss him. You're so frustrated, at this point you don't know where the courage came from for what you did next. You kiss him. Out of all the things this was something he did not expect. This time he froze, hands paralyzed at your hips. When he finally came to his senses that it was really happening, he kissed back.

You snake your arms around his neck, pulling his hair into a fist. He lets out a small moan. You pull back, smirking. "No snarky comments now huh Jeon?" you mock, satisfied with his look. His face is flushed. You can feel his member slowly growing. He took some time to overcome his initial shock. Then he said, "No shit.. I'm.. God you're hot" And he is kissing you again. More in control this time. You part your lips to let him enter. His hands cup your face. Your kiss gets heated, one of his hands goes down, between your breasts, to your stomach. Then he waits, as if asking for permission.

"What now?" You say in between your kisses. "No guts for that?" You challenge him. And this time he actually has nothing to say. So you smirk, you take his hand and slowly slip him under your t-shirt.

"Shit". He mutters. He touches your skin, you feel like you're on fire. Goosebumps form all over your body. You feel alive.

The next thing he did left you speechless. He slips both hand under your t-shirt and with one go pulls off your shirt and throws it behind you. You gawk at him in suprise. You can tell he liked the way you reacted because his eyes went dark and he looked at you like he wanted to take you right there. "Jeez Jeon.. give the girl a break" with this you latched on him again. He stumbled back and landed on the couch. Seeing the opportunity, you climb on him, Keeping your weight on your knees, you hover just above his member. You know he wants you to sit on him, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction.

"I think I need to mess with her assignments more often" saying more to himself than to you. "Specially if it leads to this" he stands up keeping you close.

" I heard that you idiot" you were now feverishly unbuckling his pants. He moved his lips to suck you down your jawline, he made sure to nib and suck a bit harder right above your pulse point.

You let out a moan. Your hands are shaking but you somehow manage to undo his pants.

You feel really hot. You were about to pull his pants down when he holds both of your wrists. You freeze, your mind racing at 100 miles per hour. Did you do something wrong? Are you crossing your line? Did he not want this and you took it otherwise? God this is embarrassing.

You eyes were still wide when he said, "I'm not messing around this time y/n. I really do like you" he looks so very sincere that he moves some part of you. But you decided that you ain't gonna let him go so easily.

"I had three mental breakdowns since yesterday". You shot back. At this his eyes turned sad. Like he was really feeling guilty. You felt bad for him now, wondering if it was too harsh.

"I never wanted that, I thought you would argue with me and at the end of it i'd give you the usb, but you looked so angry, and when u left without saying a word I knew i had fucked up. Big time."

You backed off, hands crossed in front of your chest.

Jungkook knew you were angry. But he couldn't deny that he was beyond turned on by this site, you just in your bra and shorts, angry at him. You didn't know how hard he was trying not to turn you around bend you over your desk and fuck you silly.

You noticed that he visibly gulped, he was eyeing you like a prey. But he waited, because you were angry. He wanted to do this right.

"And all this time I kept wondering what wrong did I do to you. I hate you, you know that Jeon?...

"Baby, i'm sorry" he purred stepping closer.

A new surge of arousal hit you at this. "D.. Don't baby me..." The stuttering gave you out. He smirked liked a devil. He closed the gap between the two of you. He hovered above your lips, "forgive me please" he said just an inch away from your lips.

"Kiss me please" you said, not being able to process anything. And he did, he kissed you like there was no tomorrow. Strong and urgent. He cupped your ass and gave a tight squeeze. You let out a moan.

"Do you want to take it to the bedroom?" He asked voice an octave deeper.

You nodded, not trusting your mouth. He lifted you and you wrapped your legs around him. His body was divine, his skin was smooth, heat radiated from him although he was soaked before, lips not sparring you even one 1 second. You could feel his hard on, on your stomach and it felt powerful that you can do such things to him.

"God i've been dreaming about this for so long"

"How long, jeon?" You asked stripping him off his pants and underwear.

"From the moment you debated with your proffessor about a theory in front of your department. I watched you prove your points to him, and i swear to god I had a hard on since. I had to run to the bathroom to give myself some relief " he chuckles at the memory.

"Nerd" Fully naked now, you stare at his body.

"Damn, why are you so hot. This is not fair"

He looked at you. "I see you haven't gotten rid of your clothes yet y/n.. i would like to watch baby"

So you stripped, putting up a show for him. He grabbed you when you were about to take off you panties. He turned you around, pushed you onto the wall, you balanced yourself onto the wall.

"You're gorgeous." He said before slipping his large hand in your panties and cupping your entire sex. He then hurriedly took your panties off. He pressed himself on your behind and you whimpered. He fondled your breasts with one hand and the other slowly slid towards your dripping core.

He kept touching you there, in slow tantilizing movements. You squirmed. He teased you more, knowing you needed some pressure on your clit. He avoided it the most. You were growing anxious.

"Juuunngkook... Please" you draged each syllable.

"What's wrong?" He was enjoying this way too much you could tell.

"I think I deserve being worshipped after what you make me go through kook". You stated with eyes screwed shut.

"Okay, that's fair". At this he dipped one finger inside, testing if you could take him. He gasped at the warmth and the slick that now covered his fingers. He started slow at first, drawing out low moans from you. Then without alarm he added one more digit and started pistoning in and out. You arched your back with pleasure. You were so aroused, and mixed up with your pent up stress and frustration you could already feel something heavy settling at your lower belly, tightening inch by inch.

"Kook... I'm gonna... Cum". You said between grunts.

"You're doing so good baby, cum on my fingers"

You found your release at his praise. Pleasure coursing through your veins with lightening speed. Mid orgasm Jungkook smacks your pussy. And you go crazy at that, so much that you see white. When you finally come to your sense you find his strong arms snaking your waist and holding you, so that you don't fall down. He upper body completely glued to you.

Then you finally speak, head thrown back chest heaving

"I think,.. this was the strongest I ever came in my life"

Jungkook chuckles, "You're welcome". He kisses your shoulder. He slowly lets you go, so that you can stand by your own. You haven't forgotten the fact that, his hard on is pressing onto your back, waiting for the attention.

"So tell me Jeon..." You kiss him slowly moving towards your bed, you stop, look him innocently in the eye and ask, "Where do you wanna cum? My mouth or my pussy?"

"God, if you keep saying such things, I think i can cum just like this" His hand rubs all over your body, "For now, let's put that sinful mouth of yours into good use, okay?"

You nod, leading him to lie down on the bed.

If somebody would have told you, the previous day, that you out of all the people would blow Jeon jungkook, in your bed. You would have smacked them in the face.

You straddle him, and then you start Pickering kisses, first his mouth then his jaw. You have to admit he is a damn good kisser, you get so lost in the kissing that you almost miss that he is grinding himself onto your core. Coating himself with the slick. You feel your pussy tingling. You keep peppering kisses moving to his jawline, then his neck, biting a bit hard on his sweet spot to make sure it blooms with purple afterwards.

At one point he gropes you ass with one hand and pushes you down to grind with more force.

"Change of plans sweetheart. Do you have condoms?" He asks, eye sparking with lust.

You sit straight, a smirk plastered on your face, you bend towards your nightstand, and bring out a foil packet from your drawer.

"Always so fucking prepared" he slaps your ass, you gasp at the sting. He is looking at you, trying to figure out whether you liked it or not. You moan, with your eyes closed.

Jungkook is painfully hard now. If he doesn't put it inside you, he thinks he might burst out of sheer arousal.

"Baby.." he says in a raspy voice

You hurry up at this, you tear the foil and roll it onto him. You raise up to lie down but he grabs you. "Ride me.." voice octaves lower. You're so wet already, you don't think you need extra prepping. You come back to your stance and slowly sink in holding his member for guidance.

Both moan at the pleasure surging through the body. You're impressed by his strength, for holding out so long. He has his eyes tight shut, almost as if everything is too much for him. You feel great, warm where he is inside you. You notice how beautiful he looks under you. Head arched back into the pillow, he looks sexy as hell.

You were zoned out in your thoughts, when he snapped back. "Y/n move". And there you were riding the most handsome guy from campus. And you couldn't believe both of you were making such mind blowing noises. You piston on him for a while before getting tired, thankfully he got the message. He started thrusting his hips up to you with such a velocity that you didn't know was even possible. You could feel another orgasm right around the corner, but you didn't want to finish before him.

"Kook, are you close?"

"So close baby" he whined .

"Me too.. ughhh"

At this he moved his hands from your hips to your breasts. He gave a squeeze. His member was throbbing inside you.

"Come with me y/n" he said through gritted teeth. Suddenly he then spanked one of your boob, while other hand pressed on your clit. You didn't see it coming and the suprise helped to exceeded any pleasure you felt in your whole life. Heat surged from your fluttering cunt throughout your belly. Your orgasm hit you like a truck. It was so strong you couldn't hear anything for some seconds. That followed by ringing of your ears.

You don't know when did he flipped you on your back but you could see his eyes screwed shut, eyebrows drawn together. One last trust and he was coming with you. Your highest high lasted for a while, and left you with aftershocks. Jungkook collapsed on top of you, he hadn't pulled out yet and your sensitive sex was still clenching on him.

You both layed there motionless. It was he who moved first, pulling out with a slight hiss. He tossed his condom with a knot in the trash can and fell back on the bed with a thump. You were still slightly dazed out from the orgasm. He chuckled seeing you in the bliss.

"God, Jeon, i'll be sore tomorrow."

"Well I'll take that as a complement" he smiled.

"That was hot. You're hot" you replied turning away your head feeling shy, all of a sudden.

He grabbed you by your waist and pulled you close, "Damn baby, i didn't know i'd see this side of y/l/n ever."

"Don't stroke your ego too much jeon".

He kissed your shoulder and smiled, "Do you have any idea, how hot and pretty and beautiful you are?"

You looked at him, for the first time you saw how his eyes twinkled while talking to you.

So you just kiss him, which he welcomes whole heartedly.

.

.

The next day you step in the college campus feeling amazing. You have been smiling to yourself since the morning. Since Jungkook gave back your thesis, it was just an hour's work away from getting the final sweep before submission. You hit the library, finish off your work and finally submit it. Your proffessor was not surprised when you told him that Jungkook pranked you again. Even if he found it weird that you had no anger or resentment towards him, he didn't point it out. Now that you felt 10kgs lighter, you had one class to attend and then you were done for the week.

You were heading back to class, when some of your classmates commented, "Hey y/n, we're rooting for you both" . They glimmered while talking to you. Unfortunately they passed by too quickly for you to enquire. You entered the class, confused and zoned out enough that you don't eveb notice how everyone's eyes are on you.

"Y/l/n".

You know that voice. You look towards the last row, he stands, smiling at you. You didn't know what was happening, but your nerves were on fire. Your hands suddenly got clammy and your heart beat started to fasten. You internally scolded yourself.

*Calm down, it's just Jungkook*

He looked nervous? You could tell, it wasn't his usual cocky behaviour. He didn't know what to do with his hands. So he just let them hang. It's weird you think.

As your gears in your brain were working, you start walking towards him. But his voice stopped you.

"Y/n".. then he jutted out his chin, pointing behind you. You could hear your heart hammering.

You turn.

" Y/N Y/L/N, I'M SORRY, SAY YES.. PLEASE?

-J.K. "

There it was written on the white board. In bold capital letters.

Is this a joke? If it's a joke you're not going to be able to walk out of here. Did Jungkook sleep with you so that he could pull the biggest prank in history? But he said all those sweet things yesterday right?

Before you could react, Jungkook spoke behind you. You turned to find him in front of you. You were hyperaware now, the students who were entering silently took their seats looking at you two. This felt like a scene from the movies.

"Y/n, i'm sorry that all this time I made your life a living hell. But i'm also glad because otherwise I wouldn't have the chance to know you." He smiles, his nervousness showing.

He slowly takes your hand. You let him. You already feel the emotions surging inside you. Is he really going to ask you out in front of the whole class?

He takes a long pause. It's almost painful waiting for him to finish the speech. Then he says-

"I'm sorry, Y/n will you be my girlfriend?" He says in one breath.

You gasped. All you could do was just stare at him, staring you back. Suddenly you forgot how to speak. Jungkook breaks the silence. "Say something please, you're killing me here. I -"

"Yes". He stops speaking. Grin slowly spreading from ear to ear.

"ABOUT FUCKING TIME" Someone from the class cheers. Everybody starts clapping. You can't stop smiling. Jungkook pulls you towards him, hugging you. You hug him back.

"Aww guys just kiss each other already!!" Hoseok, spoke with a mischievous smiled plastered on his face.

Jungkook pulled your face towards him for a kiss. It was a sweet kiss. You smirked when you felt how badly he wanted to shove his tongue down your throat but refrained since you're in public. Seeing you smirk, he whispers to you. "I can't wait to take you to my place after this". You shiver at the thought.

____________________________________________

"Mmmmm, kook..." He kissed your neck. You could get used to this. Straddling his lap and making out.

"Yes baby.." u feel his smirk against your skin.

"I have a question." You said, putting a space between you two. He took your hands and started leaving pecks starting from your knuckles moving upwards. You giggled.

"Why didn't proffessor take our class today, like he came 1 hr late, gave us homework and went away. I feel like this has something to do with you asking me out.."

"Y/n, babe out of all the questions you could ask me while making out, you choose this?" He pretended to be offended. You smacked his chest looking at him expectantly.

He started- "Well I might have talked to the prof before class telling him, i kinda need a favour from him.. "

"WHAT?" U couldn't believe this boy.

"Perks of having good rapport with prof. Also i always pay attention in class. You should learn from me y/n.." he looked at you innocently. As if he was not kneading your ass right now.

"Jeon Jungkook please tell me that you at least made up a situation or does our proffessor has first hand knowledge about us being in love.." the L word just slipped out. You acted like you didn't notice. But he surely did.

He winked at you, smiling wide like he got a promotion. "What did you just say?"

"Ugh about what?"

" About us being in something."

He was so smug about this, you knew he had won. You leaned into him.

"Let me show you instead" you wispered in his ear. The hair on Jungkook's body stood up , he had goosebumps. He picked you up towards his bedroom.

"Goddamn I love you".

[beca-mitchell]

Summary: Chloe is accepted into college and Beca is there for all the excitement. 

Set in the daylight universe. Rated T/slight M. Fic title from "Always" by Isak Danielson.

Word count: 3,127

Read below or on AO3.

AGE: 17 LOCATION: Brookline, MA MONTH: March

* * * * * 

Beca doesn’t realize how nervous she is until Chloe pulls her across the threshold of her house. She hadn’t even applied to any schools during this round of college applications, but she had watched all her peers scramble over themselves to get applications out.

And she had to watch Chloe have at least one breakdown a day while attempting to finish her college application essays.

It had felt like she had been in the process from the start.

“Hi,” Chloe says breathlessly, pulling Beca in for a quick kiss. “My parents are being so freaking impatient.”

Beca laughs, tucking her hand into Chloe’s. “Sorry I’m late, I was—”

Chloe kisses her again. “It’s okay, Bec. I wasn’t going to open any emails without you. It wouldn’t be right without the whole family here.”

The nonchalance with which Chloe says that only makes a smile spread across Beca’s lips as she follows her girlfriend into the living room. She has always felt so welcome and so happy in Chloe’s home—a reminder that she has this home to come back to no matter what. That reminder is only cemented when Chloe’s mother, Alice, gasps upon seeing her and stands from the couch to quickly pull her into a hug. Beca catches Chloe’s father smiling at her from the bar stool by the counter and she returns the smile quickly.

“Mom, come on—” Chloe complains. She pulls Beca to sit with her on the couch, but with how hard she pulls, Beca ends up nearly sitting on Chloe’s lap.

“Chloe,” Beca mumbles, smiling apologetically at Chloe’s parents. “Watch it.”

Chloe pouts at her. “What if I wanted you to sit on my lap?” Before Beca can find it in herself to be embarrassed further, Chloe is opening her laptop and exhaling noisily as she opens the various browser tabs with login pages for the various schools she had applied to. Beca’s nerves creep back and she shuffles closer to Chloe on the couch instinctively, pressing her chin against Chloe’s shoulder as she does so. Chloe hums a little sigh of contentment, reaching up to gently brush her hand against Beca’s cheek absentmindedly before drawing away to begin typing in her credentials.

Beca’s words are stuck in her throat as she waits with bated breath. She wants to say so much—she wants to tell Chloe how proud she is of her, how far she’s come. If she closes her eyes, she can just sink right into the soft scent of Chloe’s perfume for the day. If she tilts her head just enough, she can press her lips against Chloe’s cheek in a comforting gesture.

But she feels frozen. She’s just as afraid as Chloe is because this finally feels like the one thing that will pop their little high school bubble. As selfish as that makes her. Beca is so incredibly proud of her girlfriend, but the reality of what is going to happen once they’re done with high school looms over her like fate. Or destiny.

“Are you nervous?” Chloe asks quietly.

“No,” Beca lies. She slides her hand around Chloe’s back as best as she can even if her arm is pressed tightly between Chloe’s body and the couch. The touch brings her comfort, however, and with the way Chloe relaxes against her, she knows it comforts Chloe too.

“Liar,” Chloe mumbles.

Beca grins, twisting her face slightly to press her teeth lightly against the soft fabric of Chloe’s sweater. “Hurry up, dude. Your parents are waiting.” A quick glance up at Chloe’s parents indicates that they are in fact waiting, though Alice is smiling with her phone pointed at both of them. Beca tries to smother her own smile, but it’s hard to suppress the genuine comfort and happiness she feels, sinking back into the comfort of Chloe’s side.

“I’m nervous,” Chloe admits as she enters her login information to the college acceptance site.

“I know,” Beca whispers. “It’ll be okay.”

“It’s going…” Chloe announces, eyes flicking up to her parents.

“Regardless of what happens, we’re proud of you, Chloe,” her father states.

“Greg! That’s not encouraging!”

“How was that not encouraging? I am literally being supportive!”

“Guys! Okay, I—” Chloe gasps, nearly tossing her laptop away completely. “I got in!”

Beca can’t help the gasp of her own before she’s already grinning into the kiss that Chloe presses to her lips. She clutches for a moment at Chloe’s arm, keeping her in place. But only for a moment because she is so conscious of the fact that Chloe’s parents are still there, hovering nearby.

“I’m so proud of you,” Beca whispers, a little breathless but entirely sincere as she pulls back.

Chloe’s eyes seem to shine excessively with excitement and love as she stares at Beca happily. It is only for a moment before Chloe’s parents are pulling them both into a hug, crushing them against each other.

It is so much love, all around Beca.

 * * * * *

 With the excitement of the first acceptance out of the way, Chloe eventually makes it through the rest of her decisions with the same amount of excitement, Beca tucked into her side as she watches with wide eyes. Even with the occasional ding and rejection, Chloe is still in high spirits by the end, happy to keep her good mood going.

It is the notion of securing a future.

Beca has to quickly school the surprise on her face when Chloe stands, laptop tucked underneath her arm. “We have to go to Beca’s house,” she announces.

Alice raises an eyebrow. “Why? Don’t you want to stay for dinner, Beca?”

“We have to—” Beca begins, with a questioning lilt in her voice. Chloe’s fingers squeeze her hand, effectively silencing her when she realizes exactly what her girlfriend is up to.

“We’re going to tell Beca’s mom the good news!”

Beca clamps her mouth shut, focusing all her energy on not turning her face completely red.

“You’re going to tell Beca’s mother that you got into college.”

“Yeah,” Chloe says easily. “Totes.” She pulls Beca past her parents, smiling at both of them as she does so. “We’ll be back for dinner.”

Beca wonders if her face is flaming red. “Chloe, don’t—” She barely manages to get her shoes on her feet properly before Chloe’s front door is clicking shut behind her. With a giggle, Chloe all but leaps off the front porch, pulling Beca along as she does so. “Oh my God, you’re awful,” Beca breathes out once she catches her breath. She fumbles quickly to find her keys in her sweater pocket, grateful that Chloe limits her teasing to quick, sharp nips along her jawline. “Your parents totally knew.”

Once inside, Chloe puts her laptop quickly on the side table before whirling and pressing Beca quickly against the front door. “Knew what?” she asks, kissing at Beca’s neck while her hands push greedily up under her sweater.

“That—” Beca groans, hips rising to meet Chloe’s body. “That you wanted to—” She grunts in frustration, weaving her hands through Chloe’s hair so they can kiss properly. With a happy sigh, Chloe indulges her for a few moments before her hands slip under Beca’s thighs to lift her quickly and bodily. Beca squeaks, breaking from their kiss so she can stare at Chloe reproachfully.

“What?” Chloe asks, looking all too innocent for somebody with incredibly flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips. “That I wanted to have my girlfriend all to myself for a few hours in her blissfully empty home?”

Beca groans again, tilting her head forward so it bumps against Chloe’s. “Stop, they totally knew. My mom's car isn't even here.”

“Might as well prove them right,” Chloe mumbles, leaning up to press a deep, wanting kiss against Beca’s lips. Beca, powerless to resist whenever Chloe kisses her like that, sinks into the embrace and silences the rest of her weak protests as Chloe carries her up to her bedroom.

 * * * * *

 Somewhere in between their third round and fourth round, both of them breathless and bodies slicked with sweat, Beca’s eyes crack open as Chloe’s lips round the curve of her shoulder. “Do you—” her voice is weak from crying out Chloe’s name over and over for the past hour or so. “Do you know—oh God, Chloe, stop—” Chloe pauses. Beca takes half a second to collect herself so she can ask the question that continues to nag at her. “Do you know where you want to go?”

“Go?” Chloe asks, her hand gliding over the bump of Beca’s hipbone, slipping down her thigh, dangerously close to where Beca still aches for her. Even though her body is exhausted. “Go where?” she mumbles, leaning up to tug Beca’s earlobe between her teeth.

“College,” Beca responds, eyes slipping shut again as Chloe’s fingers work between her legs. “School. Next year.”

Chloe hums, a noncommittal little sound, before she sighs and shifts so Beca is on her back once more. Chloe slips between her legs, sitting up. Slowly she pulls at Beca’s hands, then her forearms, urging her to sit up as well. Beca groans, soft and needy when Chloe pulls her entirely onto her lap, their bodies pressed together in the open air of Beca’s room. With just how nicely the sun slips through the open blinds of Beca’s window, there is a golden hue all throughout Beca’s room. A golden tint to Chloe’s already sun kissed skin. A glow to her incredibly messy, wavy red hair.

“You’re so pretty,” Beca whispers before she can help herself. Her legs close around Chloe’s waist as Chloe pulls her up further into her lap, the intimacy of the position making something rattle deep within Beca’s chest.

She loves Chloe Beale.

She knows that will never change.

Chloe smiles in response to Beca’s whispered admission, leaning in to press a soft, sure kiss to Beca’s lips, snatching the last of her breath away. Beca’s body relaxes in Chloe’s hold, content to feel the soft brush of Chloe’s tongue against her own, the even, gentle strokes of Chloe’s hand up and down her spine, and the sure, firm grip that Chloe has on her thigh, her hip, her waist—wherever Chloe is content to hold her.

Beca decides that she doesn’t need to know Chloe’s response to her question—not now at least. Not for the next few days even. Or even the next week. She’s content to let it stretch out for as long as possible, without having to think about the future. So long as Chloe keeps kissing her like this, like she’s the only thing that matters in Chloe’s life.

It’s so easy to believe it, hidden away in the quiet warmth of Beca’s bedroom where the only future—at least the only foreseeable future—is one where Chloe slowly lays her back across her rumpled sheets and murmurs declarations of love into her skin.

 * * * * *

 Beca is dozing comfortably, nestled right against Chloe’s side when she hears the unmistakable pull of her mother’s car up the driveway. The sound of the engine being killed is enough to jolt her fully awake so she can shove at Chloe’s shoulder in an attempt to rouse her lazy girlfriend. Chloe grumbles and twists in Beca’s comforter, turning away from Beca.

“Chloe,” she hisses. “Chlo, get up. My mom’s home.”

“Already?” Chloe groans, stretching her arms before peering at the clock on Beca’s beside. “Oh, crap, it’s almost six-thirty.”

Beca flings Chloe’s shirt at her. “Get dressed.”

“Okay, okay…”

 * * * * *

 By the time Beca and Chloe make their way downstairs after adjusting their clothes appropriately, Beca’s mother is already sitting in the living room area with a glass of wine in her hand.

“Oh, you’re home. Hi.”

“Um, Chloe’s here,” Beca provides unnecessarily.

Chloe waves from behind Beca. “Good evening. Hi.”

Diane smiles a smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “Hi Chloe, always nice to see you.”

An awkward silence falls between them all. Beca can practically feel Chloe vibrating behind her with nervous tension and energy.

“Going to your friend’s for dinner?” Diane asks, finally breaking the silence.

Beca groans internally at the word choice. She can practically feel Chloe gearing up for an argument, though she knows that Chloe would never pick a fight with her mom by virtue of simply being too polite. She knows she’s going to hear about it in just a few minutes though. “Yeah. Is that okay? We’re celebrating Chloe getting into college.”

“Sure.” Beca’s mother shrugs. “I have a lot of paperwork to catch up on tonight. Don’t be too late though. Congratulations by the way, Chloe dear.” With that last statement, Beca's mother at least manages some sincerity and enthusiasm, she'll give her like an ounce of credit for that.

Beca mock salutes her mother and hurries out the door to meet Chloe. She pauses just before she meets Chloe at the door, gesturing for Chloe to go ahead without her for a moment. She gently shuts the door before turning back to her mother, wondering what exactly has her mother in such a mood this evening. Perhaps it’s nothing, she muses.

“Is everything okay?” she calls, turning back to the living room.

“Yes, is everything okay with you?”

“I...does it still bother you that I’m dating Chloe?” she asks quickly. It comes out a bit jumbled and her words kind of stick together, but she’s tired of this and the words are doing her no good all bottled up inside her. “It’s...we’ve been together for almost two years now.”

Her mother puts her glass down, eyes downcast. “I’m sorry, Beca. Of course I’m happy for you.”

“But does it bother you.” Beca feels all kinds of tension flood through her—some of the lingering nervous energy from earlier coming to the fore again. With Chloe’s college acceptance and the knowledge that they really are going to be apart for the first time in years is affecting her more than she initially expected.

“It doesn’t bother me that you are dating Chloe, no.”

Beca hums, not really believing those words for one minute. “But…”

“Beca, can we not do this right now? Go enjoy dinner with your friend.”

“My girlfriend,” Beca whispers in a deadly calm voice. “She is my girlfriend.”

“Beca, honestly." She pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration and likely exhaustion. "Honestly, do you want my opinion?”

“That would be nice.” Beca crosses her arms, ignoring the nagging sensation that tells her to simply drop the topic and meet Chloe for dinner. Chloe is waiting for her.

“Beca, you are so young. Chloe just got into college. You’re moving to Los Angeles against my advice and wishes. I support you. But I also am older than you and I know that these things don’t last. Young relationships don’t last the way you seem to think they do. Young relationships like yours and Chloe’s are fine for high school, but I’m worried that you’re putting so much stock into somebody who has so much potential to hurt you. These things ruin your future.”

Beca feels the wind leave her lungs.

“I’m sorry,” her mother says, not sounding entirely apologetic at all. “You wanted to know.”

“You’re wrong,” Beca murmurs. I’m not like you and dad. I’m not like you. We’ll never be like you. “You’re wrong,” she says more clearly, finally turning on her heel to go meet Chloe on her front porch.

The silence resonates behind her, louder than words could ever manage to be.

Chloe glances up immediately when Beca opens the door, concern written all over her face. “Beca,” she whispers. “What’s wrong? You look upset. Did your mom say something again?”

Beca says nothing for a few seconds, focusing on the pull of Chloe’s hand in her own. She is grateful that Chloe lives so close—that Chloe is there for her.

That Chloe is it for her.

It makes all kinds of defensiveness and protectiveness rise up in Beca, obviously. But also, the inklings of fear and lingering insecurity...those scare Beca the most.

“Doesn’t it bother you that she barely acknowledges you as my girlfriend?” Beca asks once they are out of earshot of her front door.

Chloe shrugs nonchalantly, but tightens her grip on Beca’s hand. “I mean...a little...but as long as she’s not stopping me from seeing you, that’s okay.”

Beca worries her lower lip between her teeth. “But we’ve been together for a while now…”

“And we’re going to continue to stay together,” Chloe says firmly. Her conviction warms Beca’s heart. “I...I’ve tried,” she whispers, stopping Beca before they go inside Chloe’s home. “I’ve tried to play nice with your mom, but she just refuses to see how amazing you are. It’s hard for me, sometimes, to see you so upset all the time and it’s hard for me to feel so helpless.”

“I know,” Beca interjects.

“I do understand that this affects you more than me...it’s just…I love you,” Chloe says softly. Like the first time they had said that to each other, Beca’s heart thrums happily and she cannot stop the smile from spreading across her face. “I hate that she upsets you and I hate that it seems like we won’t be able to do anything about that.”

“I love you too,” Beca murmurs, allowing Chloe to lean into a gentle kiss.

Chloe blows out a breath when they part, goofy smile on her face. “I can’t wait for the rest of our lives, you know?”

“Together?” Beca questions, offering Chloe a gentle smile.

“We’ll make it work,” Chloe promises before she opens the door to her house, pulling Beca into the warmth.

 * * * * *

 “What did Beca’s mother say?” Chloe’s mother asks lightly.

“She was very happy for us.”

“Us?” Alice questions.

“Um,” Beca stills from where she is pushing salad onto her plate, eyes flitting up nervously. “Us,” she echoes dumbly. "Yes. Right Chloe?" 

“Yes...you know how it is,” Chloe says with all the confidence in the world like she isn't about to lie directly to her parents. “Behind every great woman…”

Beca groans, ignoring the way Max snickers at her from his place at the table.

“What did you guys get up to for…” Greg glances at the clock. “Almost three hours?”

“We watched a movie. Are you done? What is this, an interrogation?”

As Chloe and her family begin to dissolve in mock-outrage and arguments around the table, Beca simply smiles, spooning food into her mouth as she takes in the comfort of this incredibly vibrant and happy family.

Beca is so very grateful for Chloe and her family in more ways than she can articulate.

fin.

[shirtlesssammy]

8x01: We Need to Talk About Kevin

Then:

P U R G A T O R Y

Now:

100-Mile Wilderness, Maine

1 Year Later

A couple is sleeping peacefully in the forest when a bright light fills the sky, waking the woman.

The couple goes out to investigate when they hear rustling outside. It’s a deer! Close...it’s Dean! He’s looking more like a feral rat than a deer. I would not want to run into someone looking like Dean in the middle of nowhere, that’s for sure. He pulls his gun, asks where the road is, grabs a bag of their stuff, and skedaddles. Yikes. First, for anyone not caught up, let’s all collectively scream what we all thought on our first viewing: Where’s Cas??! Second, who the fuck hikes anywhere, let alone the 100 Mile Wilderness trail with that kind of gear?! Camp chairs? A lantern the size of a dining room chandelier? A tent that’s making Harry Potter quake? Anyway, I lol thinking this is the most unbelievable part of this scene, and not the dude who just got back from Purgatory. 

Clayton, Louisiana

4 Days Later

Cue up Styx “Man in the Wilderness”, and sit back and watch one of my favorite montages. Watching Dean walk down a road never gets old. He walks to a cemetery and digs up a grave. He chants an incantation over some bones, and voilà, he brings back to life a vampire! They embrace.

Wait, what? 

In Kermit, Texas, Sam’s ditching on a woman AND a dog. He drives to Rufus’s cabin in Montana, where a hiding Dean assaults him with all the monster tests. They both pass, and hug. Sam is shocked. “I guess standing too close to exploding dick, sends your ass straight to Purgatory.” Dean explains the situation with the first dick joke of the season. Sam has further questions, and Dean is vague on the details. Sam also wonders about Cas. Dean shuts down a little more and admits, “Yeah, Cas didn’t make it.” 

Sam presses the matter. “Something happened to him down there. Things got pretty hairy towards the end, and he... just let go,” Dean adds. So, he admits that Cas let go here, did he alter his memory after this? In any event, Dean’s really broken about it. 

Sam then admits that he got out of the life, tossed all his phones, etc. “Something happened to me this year, too.” Gah, like a complete breakdown and fugue state, but I will reserve my thoughts for my non-existent essay on the state of Sam’s mind when Dean and Cas were in Purgatory. That sends Dean into an anger spiral. (Natasha: LIMES)

He listens to all of Sam’s phone messages --the increasingly desperate and eventually disillusioned pleas for help from Kevin. 

He was their responsibility, and Sam just ditched him. Uh, because he was in complete mental failure! Sam hears something in the background of the last message and is able to isolate the sound to a bus station. They track him to Michigan, where his girlfriend, Channing, is attending college. 

Once at the motel, Dean sees two boys playing with their toy guns, which sends him into a memory spiral. He’s chasing a vamp in Purgatory and eventually catches him. “Where’s the angel?”

WhEreS tHe aNgEl?

W H E R E ‘ S  T H E  A N G E L?

??

?

(Don’t touch me.)

“You’re him. The human.” 

Like, excuse me? The monsters are all meeting up talking about the human wandering around Purgatory looking for that angel? LIKE PLEASE. No, please STOp. I can’t take it, even after all these years. 

Anyway, Dean keeps demanding to know where that goddamned angel is. The vamp refuses to say so Mr. Dramatic lops his head off set to a very elegant camera angle. 

Another monster attacks but Dean’s too far from his machete. Then ANOTHER monster attacks THAT monster. Spoiler: IT’S BENNY! 

Later, in the motel, Dean suggests moving on, but Sam thinks he should get some rest. Dean goes into another anger spiral --probably because he couldn’t sleep for a year and all Sam did was sleep due to his complete breakdown. Sam trying to ignore that he didn’t have control of his world isn’t helping him with Dean. Sam found “a girl.” Well, actually, she was a fully grown woman, but go on… Listen, I don't like the Amelia stuff as much as the next person, so I have a very elaborate headcanon of Sam’s mental break and the symbolic fantasy world he created while he barely existed at the cabin. 

Anyway, Sam asks Dean what Purgatory was like. “It was bloody. Messy. 31 flavors of bottom-dwelling nasties. Hell, most days felt like 360-degree combat. But there was something about being there.”

“It felt pure.”

It fElT PuRe

I T  F E L T  P U R E

Flashback to Purgatory, where Dean’s life is still saved by Benny, the vampire. Dean threatens to shiv him up the ass so...every friendship needs to start somewhere? The vampire knows an escape hatch out of Purgatory! But it’s only for humans. He’ll show him the portal as long as Dean smuggles his soul out of Purgatory. 

The first rule of Purgatory is you can’t trust anyone. Dean doesn’t trust Benny - not an inch. But he does need allies. He tells Benny that he’ll agree to that tenuous deal as long as they find “the angel” first.

At a college, the Winchesters interview Channing. She hasn’t heard a word from Kevin and furthermore, would spurn his love forever now that he’s no longer going to Princeton. Ouch! After they leave, Channing’s eyes go black and she slices her roommate's throat so she can make a phone call. DOUBLE OUCH! She reports that Kevin still hasn’t gotten in touch with her, but Dean Winchester is back.

Trying to get some work done amongst the students, Sam experiences his own mournful flashback. He hit a dog! He shouted at veterinary hospital employees! Damn it, this is an animal hospital!!! I hand you a bloody dog, you fix! Shouting helps things happen! 

Sam bby.

Dean arrives with a burger in hand, reunited with one of the loves of his life at least. Sam reports that he’s tracked Kevin to Iowa.

At a run down church in Iowa, the Winchesters pay a house call. Kevin immediately confronts them with a Borax-loaded supersoaker. Once he figures out they’re human, Kevin gives them the tour of his new digs. He’s learned how to ward against demons. And then while explaining his recent past, Kevin has his own flashback! Everyone gets one! 

In Kevin’s flashback, he’s been captured by Crowley who sits him down to work on another tablet. A DEMON tablet! Dun dun DUN! Kevin mines its secrets and tells Crowley that there’s a hell gate in Wisconsin. (Made out of cheese?) Demons gather ingredients for him and Kevin gets to have a MONTAGE of preparing a spell to open the gate. Only…

...Kevin was hoodwinking the demons the whole time. 

He’d found a demon bomb recipe and blasts away his guards while Crowley waits on a distant Wisconsin farm. 

Back in the present, Kevin’s stowed the tablet somewhere safe but before he did that, he made sure to memorize one more important spell from the tablet: a spell to close the gates of Hell...FOREVER. 

Dean and Sam head outside to the...second story church deck?...to chat. Sam’s disappointed that Kevin seems further into the hunting life than before. Dean’s proud of the kid - “he’s in it whether he likes it or not.” Oof. Dean, your Winchester is showing.

Sam heads down to the candle-lit church. He apologizes to Kevin for bugging out on him - and on everything hunting related. It’s definitely staged like a confession.

Kevin admits that he’s perturbed when he really stops and thinks about his life, post-prophet-revelation. Sam assures him that “it gets better.” Hmm RLY? Sam’s an optimist, and continues: if they can banish all the demons, Kevin might actually be free to live a good life. BRB weeping and shouting angrily at this show!

In Sam’s hazy flashback, he waits anxiously for the news from the vet. She reports that his dog will be okay. Sam corrects her - the dog isn’t his! She double barrel blasts him with sarcasm, implying that if he doesn’t take care of the dog he hit then he’s the worst person in the world. Which. Okay. I generally don’t mind Amelia though I think she demonstrably has terrible luck picking stable, healthy relationships. But this scene always has me rolling my eyes. It’s so normal to foist a dog on a stranger! Everyone has the means and time to care for a dog, not to mention a dog who has been seriously injured! A vet would not do this! Amelia, plz. 

Amelia puppy dog eyes Sam, and he’s toast. He’s spent so many years working on his offensive puppy eyed tactics, he never thought to work on his defense!

The church begins to shake and wood splits apart Kevin’s devil’s traps. A couple of demons arrive, armed with more swagger than weaponry. There’s a zappy flashy kicky fight and then Crowley and Channing arrive. Crowley demands the tablet for Channing’s life. He flashes Channing back into control for a moment as proof of life. Kevin offers himself up in exchange for Channing’s freedom and heads off to “pack up.” Then Kevin lures Crowley and Channing to a holy water trap.

As they’re being doused, the Winchesters and Kevin escape. While they drive away, Crowley orders the demon out of Channing and then kills her. Oof. 

Later, Dean gets a phone call as they stop for gas and snacks, and then passes it off as a wrong number. Kevin passes on donuts and beef jerky. He just saw his girlfriend die and that doesn’t lend itself well to gas station snacks. 

Dean offers up words of Winchester Solace™. “You’re in it now. Whether you like it or not you do what you gotta do.” Good talk, Dean! 

On Dean’s pee break, he furtively places a phone call. It’s Benny, the vampire from earlier! He’s lurking on the edges of a funeral in a not-at-all-suspicious way. He figured out cell phones! But not fashion.

Dean tells him that they shouldn’t talk for a while since they’re both adjusting to life. Benny wistfully tells Dean that Purgatory WAS pure and he should have appreciated it more while he was there. They both admonish each other to be good (and presumably not go on a murderous rampage). Good talk!

WHERE’RE THE QUOTES?

We made it, brother

I don't know whether to give you a hug or take a shower

Nothing says "family" quite like the whole family being dead

Where’s the angel?

Hey, the rules are simple, Sam. You don't take a joint from a guy named Don, and there's no dogs in the car!

So you're looking for a soul train

There's a demon in you, and you're going to your safety school

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[foolishlovebugbaby]

stupid cupid | part 1

part 2 | part 3 | part 4

college!au / bang chan x fem!reader

Summary: bang chan is always complaining about being single since birth, so best friend reader decides to play cupid and sets him up. big mistake.

Genre: angst-y?? with some fluff later on idk you decide (a Lot of slow burn so idk how many parts this multi-shot will have lmao)

Warnings: none

college life, to summarise, was hectic.

multiple deadlines for multiple classes; pages upon pages of assignments and essays that needed to be done; hour long lectures almost every single day, and on top of all of that, a part-time job as a book clerk at the library that needed to be held down in order to help pay for your apartment rent.

needless to say, your days were filled with so much to do encapsulated in such little time.

thankfully, you were not alone.

you had your best friend Chan to hold you down through it all even though he had just as much struggles as you did

you had met him right before you started college on a website while looking for housemates in order to afford rent (you were drowning in student loans and so was he, so to you it was a match made in heaven)

to say your parents were reluctant to let you live with a male was an understatement- but after meeting him and realizing that he was a total sweetheart that couldn’t hurt a fly and that there was no other option, off you went. 

you two were very similar in many ways; for one, you both shared a deep love for movies and films and star wars, which is why you both made a childish pinky promise to always have movie nights on wednesday evenings and the tradition hasn’t been broken since

another thing you also shared in common was the fact that you both were completely, utterly, stupidly and perfectly single.

he, since birth, and you since the 11th grade when your first love became your fist ( and, thus, worst) heartbreak

bonding over these things and the fact that you both were endlessly passionate about reaching your goals allowed you both to develop a deep and meaningful friendship, enough to make you both realise that you were each others’ best friends

whenever he’d stay up and pull all-nighters to get his work done, you were always next to him on the dining table doing the same even though you didn’t need to, but wanted to keep him company just so that he didn’t feel alone.

and whenever you had mental breakdowns during exam season, he was always there with ice cream and flash cards in hand to help you get through it all

needless to say, even though the first two years of college were anything but a breeze, chan always made you feel okay.

so now there you two were, third year college students on your run-down, second-hand couch, watching re-runs of the big bang theory and catching up on how the week was so far.

“it makes me feel so lonely watching minho and his girl act all cutesy in class, i feel like the ultimate third wheel.” chan whined next to you on the couch and you rolled your eyes

“you’ve been complaining for so long about how you feel oh so lonely, why don’t you just find someone then? there are enough people all over campus pining over you anyway.” you said, scoffing at the brunette.

chan had been complaining for so long about how he felt like a deprived lovebug and how he was an utter virgin in everything that had to do with love, and you were getting annoyed with how often he complained

“but that’s the thing- i don’t even know where to start! how do you even approach people? how do you even know whether that person is a nice person? god, they should teach us ‘finding a life partner 101′ instead of the laws of thermodynamics, it’d be way more useful.” he rambled on

“you’re so whiny channie. you know what? let me help you. i can set you up on a blind date with someone who i think you’d like so that the filtering process would be shortened- how does that sound?” you turned to look at him, propping your elbow onto the  couch headboard and rested your head into the palm of your hand

suggesting this was your first mistake.

he looked at you quizzically, his thick eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinty

“you would do that? for me?”

“if it gets you to shut up then of course.” you grinned sarcastically and giggled, with him rolling his eyes at you

“oh haha,” he said and stuck his tongue out “forget i even said anything.” he huffed and got all pouty and exaggerated by crossing his arms and looking away from you. you could only laugh at his feigned hurtful expressions

“i’m kidding! you know i’m just joking- oh stop pouting you big baby.” you said, grabbing ahold of his bicep to get his to turn and look at you

his very muscular bicep

“i’m being serious okay! i want to set you up with someone so that my poor channie stops feeling so lonely all the time.” you mimicked his pout and patted his head

“alright, fine. i’m trusting you with this. if i get dumped i’m blaming you.”

“deal.”

you didn’t have to blink twice to agree to this whole ordeal or even to suggest it; you and chan were just friends- best friends at that, and everything between you both was completely platonic

or so you thought.

so there you were, in your literature lecture, spying on the one girl you thought would be the perfect fit to chan’s empty heart.

so far you knew that her name was Hana, that she was a screenplay major (and so, obviously, knew a good lot about film), that she was recently single and ready to mingle (according to people around campus), and that she looked absolutely gorgeous

jackpot

being your outgoing self, you immediately approached her all wide-eyed and hopeful.

“hi, you don’t know me but would you mind going on a blind date with my friend?” you quipped innocently

she looked completely shocked and dumbfounded

afterall, the only thing she knew about you was that you shared literature class together- and that’s about it.

reader you complete weirdo

“uhm, may i ask what your name is?” she said, looking bashful and flustered

“i’m y/n. and don’t worry, chan isn’t a complete weirdo- shit did i just say his name?? fuck i just took out the point of a blind date.” you mentally slapped yourself for being this much of a dumbass, but to your surprise, hana’s eyes flickered with interest.

“do you mean bang chan? as in cute-boy-in-the-physics-department bang chan?” 

“uh yeah i think so? cute boy? since when was channie known as cute bo-”

“i’m definitely in! i’m sorry for sounding so overly-enthusiastic, it’s just chan’s been quite popular these days, and i’m just a little excited.” she said bashfully

“don’t be sorry! just give me your number and i’ll text you the details soon!”

to say that chan was excited when you told him would be an understatement

“you’re going to love her, channie! god, i’m such a good wingman, you should pay me for setting you up this good.” you said, smirking, feeling proud of yourself

“don’t get too cocky just yet. but oh my god, i can’t wait to meet her!” he said grinning, completely over the moon, and your smile matched his.

wednesday evening rolled around, the day of their blind date, and you couldn’t have been more excited for him. you had arranged for them to meet at a cute little trendy café downtown- perfect for a first date- where they could just talk and get to know each other.

you honestly felt like a proud mom sending off her son to get married, and the happiness you felt for him was genuine- no if’s, and’s or but’s.

“do i look okay?” chan said, coming out of his room dressed in black jeans with rips in the knees, a black muscle tank top and his white denim jacket. he wore an expression of nervousness- a very cute one, at that- and you couldn’t help but let your gaze linger a little longer than normal with a little more affection than you’d like to admit.

“you- you look great channie!” you said, stuttering at first as you were taken aback by just how attractive he looked

you always knew your best friend was handsome- but something about the way his ruffled hair settled on his head and how his lips were flushed a deep red from biting them out of nervousness made your heart skip a beat

but of course, you ignored it.

this was the second mistake.

he was attractive, and that was that.

“you really think so?” he smiled bashfully, ears going red when he saw how your eyes gleamed after seeing him. it made him feel fluttery and giddy to have you compliment him.

“you look really handsome, channie- i mean it.” you said again, a soft smile dancing on your lips and he looked down and scratched the nape of his neck, suddenly feeling embarrassed by all the attention you were giving him.

“you should wear that really nice perfume you own!” you said giddily

“already am! i know it’s your favorite scent- i just hope she likes it too.” 

after a few more minutes of chan’s nervous questions and you telling him to calm down, he was off.

he didn’t know what Hana looked like- all you told him was that she would be sitting alone next to the window in a pink top.

so when he laid eyes on the girl you described, he had to do a double take to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

she was a sight to see, that was for sure.

before he entered, he sent a text to you 

to stardust: u didnt tell me you were setting me up w a fukn model

from stardust: oopsies (✿◠‿◠)

he chuckled and rolled his eyes before entering the café and making his way over to her.

he introduced himself, as did she, and the night played on.

meanwhile, on the other side of town, there you were on the dining table, finishing up your last analytical essay on whatever the heck you had to analyse for your creative writing class

it was ten pm now, and you groggily made your way onto your sofa with your fluffy throw blanket wrapped around you like a burrito 

you flicked through the channels on the tv, being unable to find anything remotely interesting, until you realised something

it was wednesday.

movie night day.

and you were alone.

you felt a pang in your chest at that realisation. after 2 years of almost always spending wednesday nights with chan by your side, you suddenly grew increasingly aware of how lonely you were. by now you two would be cramped on the couch, debating over whether or not to put on a new movie or series or to re-watch some of your all-time favorites.

but there you were, staring into space, alone and cold on your couch, chan no longer beside you.

you immediately buried those thoughts away 

‘he’s happy and having a good time, and i’m so happy for him- he’s my best friend.’ you thought to yourself

your phone dinged, interrupting your train of thought

from solo: this is going too well, im buying u sushi next week to thank u

you let out a breathy laugh at that

to solo: hehe glad to hear that

from solo: gosh i love you

your breath hitched in your throat when you read that message. it made your heart suddenly pick up speed and made your tummy feel weird. he’s never said that before, you thought to yourself, your mind malfunctioning. you blinked yourself back into reality.

to solo: i know.

with that, you shut off your phone. 

you had to remind yourself why he said it. 

he was being thankful, nothing more. that’s all there is to it. 

i’m his best friend, nothing more. that’s all there is to it.

you had to shake of the stinging feeling in your chest and chose to distract yourself by watching the nature documentary that was playing on tv, even though it bored you out of your mind and caused you to just stare at it blankly for the rest of the night. 

soon enough you fell asleep on the couch, alone and cold, with the tv playing a show you didn’t like on a channel you didn’t watch with a dull pain brewing in the middle of your chest that you chose to actively ignore. 

and that was the third mistake. 

i’ll just end it here for part one. please reblog and like so i know you want this multi-shot to continue! also all my star wars babies- peep those references heheheheheheh 

[xialing-gf]

take a break

summary: college applications are taking a toll on your mental health and your relationship (basically the two most important things in your life)

Wc: 1383

Tw: anxiety, feelings of worthlessness, college stress

“Y/n, take a break! You’ve been working yourself to the bone these past few days. Just take one hour off and watch a couple episodes of Brooklyn 99 with me, please?” Peter pleaded over the phone. Ironically, as he asked you to take a break, you were working on college essays as you called Peter on the phone.

“I will, I will! I just need to cram in a couple essay drafts and study for AP Biology. It won’t take that long,” You reasoned, trying not to yawn as you reassured your boyfriend. Your fingers felt like stiff sticks of ice and a thousand invisible hands pressed into your aching back. You felt your eyes falling but took another chug of coffee to try to stay awake.

“You don’t sound fine. I’m coming over,” Peter stated, hanging up on you before you could try to persuade him that you didn’t need his help. You promised yourself that you would go to bed before he could arrive to prove his suspicions wrong but you couldn’t finish your work as quickly as you expected.

The doorbell rang and you swore under your breath as you shoved textbooks into your backpack and organized the messy papers on your desk as fast as you could. You heard the low murmurs of Peter talking with your dad as you hurriedly saved your work on the laptop before shutting it down. You turned off your lights and crawled into bed, pulling the covers over your head, feigning sleep. You heard Peter walk into your room and sigh loudly, “I know you’re awake, Y/n. The pen on your desk is uncapped and I know you would never leave a pen uncapped unless you were kidnapped or dead.”

Peter walked over next to your bed and turned on the lamp. He sat down on your bed and you peeked up from your covers, meeting his eyes. He sat down on your bed, the mattress dipping slightly from his weight. You sat up on your bed, dragging a finger through your messy hair as you sighed in defeat. Peter’s soft brown eyes flashed with worry as he reached over and held your hand, asking, “What’s wrong? You’ve been more stressed lately.”

“It’s just… I guess it’s just college. Everybody is stressed too but I feel like I’m stressed for different reasons?” You sounded uncertain, mainly because you had been repressing all these emotions by working on college applications. “Like college is such a big deal, you know? My parents have always told me that college was going to determine the rest of my life. If I get into a good college, I can find a job easier but if I don’t I’m going to have to work really hard. It’s just a lot of pressure to handle.”

After you finished rambling, you immediately felt bad for pouring your heart out. You had never really confronted these feelings and now that you finally faced them, you realized how big of an impact school had on your mental health. During softball season, you were constantly crying and having mental breakdowns because of how much work you had. During finals, you always lost sleep due to your stress and anxiety keeping you up. Dang, the school system really did ruin your mental health.

“Why are you worried? Your grades are great and you’re really good at softball! I’m sure colleges will all accept you,” Peter reassured, still holding your hand. His eyes were filled with so much kindness and compassion that you felt bad for even bringing it up. “You’re probably the smartest person I know.”

“I seem like a smart person but compared to other people, I’m not that smart. I only took one AP course sophomore year and my friend took four. He’s so smart! He’s won so many math competitions so he’s probably going to get into Stanford, Harvard, and Yale while I’ll probably go to some community college. I mean, community colleges aren’t bad; it’s just that my parents want me to go to a private college. They’ve been wanting this for a long time,” You didn’t realize you had been crying until you stopped talking and felt the tears on your cheek. Peter’s smile had faded and he gently rubbed the tears off your face with his sleeve. You both sat in silence for a moment before Peter spoke again.

“Life isn’t fair and I’m sorry I can’t change much but I promise you, things will get better. Also, your worth is not determined by the worth of others. You just have to get through college applications and once you get to college, you won’t have to constantly compare yourself to anybody. Sure, you’ll definitely put effort into studying but you won’t have to tear yourself apart to compete with everybody. Well, not until you have to work,” Peter sighed, visibly worried about you. You wiped away a couple stray tears and nodded, trying to look on the bright side. Colleges wanted somebody who was resilient and confident and you once were but now you had no fight in you left.

School and sports had drained you and you wanted to not complain but sometimes you wished you could get a break to clear your head and get back the confidence you lost. You didn’t want to blame life or fate for your misfortunes so you began to blame everything on yourself and it was definitely not healthy. In addition to that, you constantly compared yourself to everybody, which made you feel like you weren’t good enough. You wanted to improve, to be a better person, but you couldn’t if you no longer believed in yourself.

Peter must have noticed that your brain was launched into anxiety-mode because he pulled you into a hug, rubbing soothing circles on your back. You eventually calmed down, which allowed you to clear your head for a bit. Peter pulled away and asked, “Want to come over my place tomorrow night? We can watch a movie and relax. It sounds like you really need it.”

“Yeah, that would be nice. Thank you,” You kissed Peter on the cheek and he chuckled as he stood up. He turned off the light and softly told you to go to sleep before leaving your room and closing the door behind him. That was the first night you had properly slept in ages.

Peter helped you survive college applications and after you submitted all of them, Peter and your friends threw you a celebratory party. Everybody knew you worked hard and for the first time in what felt like forever, all your hard work was recognized. The wait for any word from colleges was painful. Checking the mailbox twice a day became a habit and spending time with Peter always eased your nerves. He always surprised you with gifts and never hesitated to remind you that you were doing amazing. The future, as scary as it seemed, became a little less scary when you had Peter by your side. Unfortunately, you spending time with Peter led to you developing another worry: losing your relationship to long distance.

You and Peter applied for some colleges and you were hoping that you two could get into some together. But even if you two ended up going to the same college, you were scared softball and schoolwork would not allow you to make time to spend with Peter. You told Peter how you felt about this and he didn’t seem too worried at all.

“We’ve gone through so much together and in the end, it always works out. Sometimes things will be out of our control and that’s okay because, every time, no matter the situation, we always end up okay. And we will be okay this time too,” Peter had stated, a glimmer of hope in his eyes and a dash of confidence on his voice. You realized that he was right and that now that college applications were submitted, all you could do was wait and live in the moment. You did your best to live in the moment with Peter because you would never get to experience this period of time again so it was about time to start treating yourself and your mental health better.

~

feel free to send requests! i also have a marvel page on my blog so check it out for more marvel fics or check out my peter parker x reader masterlist for more fics like this!

Taglist: @dutchiewhotriestowrite @sleep-i-ness @screwurluv @msweet34

(Comment if you want to be tagged in my marvel fics!)

[crazyferalvigilantedragonwriter]

This is really long, but I hope it might just save a life.

This literal essay rant is brought to you by this post by @hollyhomburg

I honestly haven’t had a chance to see Bring The Soul yet, nor do I think I’ll have the time to see it while it’s in theaters, but reading this reminded me of something I did this week.

I’m just gonna expose myself a little bit more than I usually do on any social media platform—I start college in sixteen days.

I’m going to school about 1300 miles away from home, somewhere I have never been and have only ever seen represented in books or on television, and I picked one of the most time consuming and difficult majors you can pick. I have never been great at socializing or making new friends so throwing myself off the deep end for school was a bit of a “screw it, it’s different, I’m just gonna go for it and see what happens” decision. So I decided to do this spirit week/orientation program through my school.

Honestly? Was not a big fan. I’m not big on crowds, especially loud, jumpy, screaming ones, like this program wound up being pretty often, and the presentations were mainly about things I’d seen at orientation or been sent countless emails about after I committed.

What I really enjoyed and what really stood out to me were the people. Every single one of the small group leaders said that they were there, not getting paid much for a solid two weeks, because they wanted to help us. And be there for us. Because most of them had been through the ringer and didn’t want to see anyone else suffer at its hands.

This program lasted three nights and four days and on the first day, you wrote your name on and decorated an envelope. On the last night, you wrote notes for people who had made a difference in your experience at this program or even those you just wanted to say hi to. That same night we did a group activity—our small groups were led to separate rooms, the lights were shut off, and the leaders prompted discussion with a series of questions. The first was to compare yourself with a character from anywhere.

The ones that really stuck with me were “What are you most proud of?” and “What is your anchor/motivation?”

My answers were personal. All thirteen answers (which includes my two group leaders) were incredibly personal.

I am most proud of asking for help.

Two and a half years ago, I was drowning in myself. And I didn’t realize it until my dad walked into my room one day asking about why my grades were wonky and why I wasn’t doing homework (as I was doing homework for my fashion design class) and I had a complete breakdown. Someone who hadn’t been in my life for eight years at that point had said to me earlier that week that they asked for help and started talking to a therapist and it helped them a lot.

So when I had calmed down enough I asked for help.

And here I am, two and a half years later, more capable of handling my anxiety and my anxious ticks, triggers, etc. And I’m proud of that. Incredibly proud of that.

And I shared my story first when the group leader asked, “What are you proud of?” Which led to several other people opening up about their own struggles with similar things or situations that society says you just don’t talk about.

As for the “What is your anchor/motivation?”—it’s my dog. I honestly can’t live without one, it’s physically painful for me. And I shared another personal story about that—but I’ll save it for another time.

That night we wrote out notes. And I made sure that each of my notes were meaningful and were personal so I didn’t get to write as many as I had hoped but I wrote good notes.

When I received my filled envelope at the end of the program, I was honestly surprised. I wasn’t super talkative, or social, and I didn’t think I had made much of a difference to anyone in that group.

I was wrong???

One of the group leaders wrote to me, “you gave me so much courage to be me without question. you opening up to me and the group about your passions and past struggles made me feel like I need to reflect and love myself unapologetically.”

The other wrote, “you are braver than I ever could be.”

Someone I talked to on a few occasions but didn’t feel like I made much of a connection with wrote, “your attitude and outlook on life is beautiful and I really appreciate it.”

The reason I’m writing this is because I honestly don’t believe I am capable of feeling love at all. I haven’t said I love you to my mother in months—maybe even a year—and I only said it to her today because I won’t see her for several months and I knew it would mean the world to her if I said it to her before she left tomorrow to go back home while my dad is out here with me to officially move me in after my next program. I don’t like saying things I don’t mean—which makes me sound cruel and heartless, but that’s just the way my soul is wired.

When I first found out about BTS it was during the Love Yourself era and I didn’t connect to the songs on any level deeper than “Wow this music is really good and I just like listening to it” because I just didn’t believe I could love anything.

Eventually I found/made a community (here on tumblr with @hollyhomburg at its center) that made me feel warm and fuzzy and—holy turtle fudge—loved.

But these three people, who only interacted with me for four days, clearly saw something I can’t see myself—I do love myself.

And Holly’s post made me realize this: I am capable of loving my dog and that is a form of loving myself. I love reading and that is a form of loving myself. I love telling my story to people so they know they’re not alone and that, in it’s own twisted way, is a form of loving myself.

So to anyone who needs it, even if you don’t realize it, you probably do love yourself.

And if you really truly don’t believe that you can/do, I will do it for you until you can say “I love myself” because it’s important to have something in your corner (even if it is a dog) that will mean/represent unconditional love so that you know it exists and that one day you will be able to have unconditional love for yourself.

There will always be days when you feel down, but just because you feel like you’re stuck at the bottom of a ravine you don’t know how to climb out of, doesn’t mean your value in this world has changed. Your value in this world is a constant with a numerical value of infinity and nothing that happens to you or that you feel will ever be more than that, because there really is no number higher than infinity.

TLDR: @hollyhomburg is amazing and she as well as a ridiculous school spirit program helped me realize I love myself. Also, I will love you if you can’t and will continue loving you even after you can.

[thatwriterwiththeblock]

my fanfiction paper

since @redhead7675 is begging me to tell this story

I’m currently enrolled in a college course called “Researching Writing and Literacy,” and it’s pretty much exactly what it sounds like

the whole class is centered around 3 projects with a bunch of peer review scattered around and all three of these projects build off of each other, with Task One being a breakdown analysis of a “writing literacy,” task two being an annotated bibliography of 12 relevant scholarly sources and like 8 sample texts or images, and task three being the final research paper, which is supposed to be 14-17 pages long but that I ended up submitting as 21 pages this is the longest academic paper i’ve probably ever written or submitted, and it’s about FANFICTION. I don’t usually read college syllabi because i’m a bit lazy and get nervous easily and sometimes i get overwhelmed by project count, so I had no idea that my first project subject would be my focus for the ENTIRE CLASS. he started class off by asking everyone what their most interesting writing literacy was that they partook in-- so basically any kind of writing or words-based activity, other classmates of mine did everything from poetry to keeping up a planner to memes. and, like, yeah, i write poetry, and i’m working on a novel, and that’s great but like 10 people have already given that so you know what? screw it. i wrote my first assignment on fanfiction, which was kind of mortifying because the professor took such a keen interest in this that he kept constantly asking me about my naruto fanfiction out loud in the middle of class which you as you can probably imagine sparked some giggling, and i’ve had to explain that yes fanfiction gets written about real people and yeah i write about an anime and i’ve basically had to answer all his curious questions in class. “haha what’s your favorite character?” my classmates laughed at me. Gaara, for your information, but also, shut up. the first time i tried to cite my own goddamn Naruto fanfiction for this class easybib, the thing i ALWAYS USE for citations, fails on it because apparently there’s no well-recognized MLA format for fanfiction; so not only am i citing my own anime fanfiction, i have to make up my own format for the citation.

i just finished task 3, which was a monster of a research essay assignment, let me tell you, if anyone needs an abundance of academic sources of fanfiction I’M YOUR GIRL. anyway i wrote about everything from multimodalities and intertextualities, to professional hybridity but mostly i focused on community, the paper was on the differences and similarities between published work and fanfic at this point i didnt care about my dignity anymore so i cited everything from stony podfics to davekat

im not joking anyway i just submitted a 21 page paper on fanfiction with 2 pages of references that i spent five hours writing to a college professor, who’s proud of me

[lottes-ocs]

one chapter (first chapter maybe? def towards the beginning though) of my story. i turned it in for a workshop in class (capped at 12 pages double spaced). a note from my workshop document:

“Since this is going to be a longer work, I will likely expand upon Adam’s personal and inner life towards the beginning, so that the breakdown and the subsequent conversation with Ezra don’t feel as sudden. I will definitely add more documents like the emails, maybe therapist’s notes or text messages, and I might play around with POV in some later chapters, however, my plan is for Adam to be the primary narrator throughout.”

also lmk if i get anything egregiously wrong. i do have ptsd myself, but i also consulted 2 of my schizophrenic friends to make sure i didn’t include any details that would conflict with that and also to get details about antipsychotics correct

tw for suicide mentions, mental illness, unreality, some graphic imagery.

[January 21st, 2019 // 9:00 AM] Since I got discharged from the hospital last month, I’ve been grateful to live alone. Granted, it makes the paranoia worse, but I’m the only one who needs to know how often I’ve tried to talk to shadows or woken up yelling at the void. And I’m the only one who needs to know that I, a 30-year-old man, have been sleeping with a nightlight. But look, when my room is completely dark, mirages of my father and Dr. Wronski appear in the corner with their faces peeled off like in an autopsy and they won’t stop apologizing. I tell them I forgive them and they double down, I offer them solace and they weep with guilt, I articulate my own guilt and they articulate what it feels like to die. Only the nightlight makes them go away. Does that all sound stupid? Sure it does, but it feels a lot less stupid when I just need some sleep after another day trying to balance crushing grief with debilitating mental illness with my normal-person job, teaching abnormal psychology. Classes have been back in session since last week, so for a week, I’ve felt like a fish teaching marine biology. Or something out of Mariana’s trench. Ezra walks into my office, looking just a little too put-together for the workday (as usual), perfectly-tailored pants, perfectly ironed shirt, and perfectly styled curls, and snaps me out of my self-pitying daze by setting down a large stack of papers on his desk next to mine. “The anxiety essays,” he says with an imperious sigh. “Was I this dumb in undergrad?” “Probably not,” I say. “You were a little older than them.” “And I actually had anxiety.” He’s made a point of bringing up his own issues since I got back. I think he’s doing it so I don’t feel embarrassed or isolated, but he does love to talk about himself regardless, and besides, the support of one grad student doesn’t outweigh the nastiness of some of the higher-ups. “Do you have any new bits, Ezra?” I try to change the subject to his comedy (he does standup on the side, and I hear he’s not bad). “Eh, nothing good. You look tired.” He brushes me off with forced nonchalance. “I’ve had plenty of work to catch up on.” There’s actually no reason that he should know why I was gone, it’s my business, but he definitely does. Everyone does. I work in the psych department, so the people here know what it means when someone’s witnessed the death of their mentor and is subsequently out for a month with no further explanation than “illness.” “Have you, uh…” he clicks his tongue in thought. “Did you drink coffee this morning?” I nod with an exasperated smile. “Well, y’know, the Keurig’s in the lounge if you need it. And I’m in 522 most of today if you need help. Catching up on work, or whatever.” He drums casually on the doorframe, shoots me finger-guns, and heads down the hall. I like Ezra. He’s my TA now, but we were both in grad school working towards our doctorates together, up until last spring, when I received mine. We’re the same age, and he’s definitely smarter than me (as he is most people), he just started college late. I think it’s very sweet of him not to be a condescending dick to me (I seem to be a popular target for condescending dicks lately) especially because Ezra can muster up a dangerous amount of condescending dickishness when he feels the need. However, I process absolutely none of what he said. I was listening, I was trying to listen anyway, but my head’s not working right, not right now. I really didn’t get enough sleep. It’s a vicious cycle. The hallucinations and intrusive thoughts keep me up, the lack of sleep worsens the severity of the hallucinations and intrusive thoughts. In fact, since I arrived at work forty-five minutes ago, I have kept a mental tally: Sudden and overwhelming urge to stab myself: 3 instances. Sudden and overwhelming urge to stab Dr. Carlisle for looking at me weird: 2 instances (fuck off, it’s not like I’m going to act on it). Sudden and overwhelming urge to break down crying: 45 instances. Rats underneath my desk: Yeah, I don’t know, I called maintenance and they told me they’re fake, so I guess they’re fake, even though I can see them. Hanging woman in the back corner of my office: Don’t mind her, she’ll be gone within the hour. I’ll be sorry to see her go, though. A sense of unreality is creeping in. I try to keep Dr. Beauchamp’s voice in my head, “if there shouldn’t be any real dead people in the room, there are almost definitely no real dead people in the room.” Well, there was that one time, you asshole. No, fuck it, there are almost definitely no real dead people in the room. I reach into my briefcase, desperate for the pill bottle, because I know my thoughts are going to turn into alphabet soup if I don’t do something soon. I split a Clozaril tablet in half and swallow it hastily. I am not supposed to split it in half, and I am not supposed to take more than one dose in a span of 24 hours, and I have a Ph.D. in psychology, obviously I know I’m lowering the efficacy in the long term and increasing my risk of side effects. But at this point, let me die of agranulocytosis if that’s what I’ve got coming. I’ll be out of a job and wasting eleven years of higher education if this shit doesn’t stop. Maybe that isn’t true. It feels true. Maybe it isn’t.

[January 21st, 2019 // 1:30 PM] FROM: Dr. Raymond Carlisle TO: Dr. Adam Collins SUBJECT: Checking in.

Dr. Collins, I sincerely hope all is well. I received word that you cancelled a lecture today. I need hardly tell you that you just had a month off for Winter Break, and two weeks before that for the beginning of your hospitalization. I hardly think an even further extended reprieve from your work is fair, and if you genuinely do, that’s a conversation we need to have. To be frank, Dr. Herrmann and I feel it is irresponsible to allow someone in your condition to continue to work, in the field of psychology no less. Though I do not at all doubt the competence of our colleagues at the medical center, nor your mental facilities, I feel compelled to let you know that if your psychological state continues to cause issues with your work the department might require you to take a leave of absence. While I hope your treatment plan begins to work to its full effect soon, your own safety and the integrity of this department are top priority.

Best wishes, truly,

Dr. Raymond Carlisle Head Professor, Psychology (555) 555-5555

My hands tremble with anger (and hopefully not tardive dyskinesia) as I type my reply.

FROM: Dr. Adam Collins TO: Dr. Raymond Carlisle SUBJECT: Re: Checking In

Dr. Carlisle, all is as well as it possibly can be needs to be. I don’t respect you as a colleague and I believe your total comfort in your new position, which I need hardly remind you is Dr. Wronski’s old position, is quite frankly borderline disrespectful.  If it’s irresponsible for someone in “my condition” to continue to work then why do you give a shit if I cancel my lectures? Leave me the fuck alone or I’ll mention you by name in my suicide note.   At the moment, it is difficult for me walk by Dr. Wronski’s old office, which I have to do to get to 525 (where that lecture is held). Could I request a change of   I was having a panic attack you absolute dick how are YOU allowed to continue to work in the field of psychology when you have NO compassion My new medication has occasionally been making me sick. That issue should be resolved either way after I meet with my psychiatrist next week.

Thank you for your concern, Dr. Adam Collins Department of Psychology

[January 22nd, 2019 // 10:30 AM] I think back to our last faculty meeting, at least my last faculty meeting, in November. It does feel like a while ago, and it’s hard to fathom that Dr. Wronski was still here then. It gets easier to fathom when Dr. Carlisle comes in and takes his seat at the head of the conference table, simply because of how wrong that is. I picture her there instead, how things are supposed to be, how it should have been. I think about how someone should have helped her when they still could have. I really picture her there instead for a moment, her image replacing Carlisle’s. I blink once and she’s gone, and he’s back. As he starts talking, though, I feel a tap on my shoulder and see her behind me for a split second, ephemeral and transparent like the dots in a grid illusion, then she walks away and disappears. My whole body is left feeling cold, sharp, and jolted, as if I fell on a blade without expecting to. I’m filled with dread as I realize Carlisle’s words are simultaneously turning to nonsense and growing louder in my ears, and a high, harsh noise like microphone feedback intertwines itself with his voice. Dr. Wronski reappears in his place again, but she is lifeless this time, blood pooling from her head like it was when I found her, circling her hair in a grim halo. Her eyes are clouded with even more film, her mouth is agape, and I can feel my breathing grow rapid. I squeeze my eyes shut. I know I am in the middle of a meeting; I will not fall apart like this in the middle of a meeting, not when my “mental facilities” are already being called into question. I pinch myself, internally repeating “there are no real dead people here, there are no real dead people here, there are no real dead people here—” “Dr. Collins, are you with us?” Dr. Hermann’s voice pierces through my mantra, entirely unfriendly, entirely accusatory, despite the faux-sweetness she is trying to summon. “Yes.” My voice sounds thin and weak, and blood rushes to my face. I shut my eyes again, since I feel tears prickling at the corners of them. Not fucking here, Jesus Christ, not fucking here, I think to myself. Then I think again about my last meeting, the old hierarchy, the time when I fell asleep at one of these in October after a particularly long night and Dr. Wronski just pulled me aside afterwards and asked if I was okay, and if there was anything she could do. And now the image of her corpse won’t leave my head. It overwhelms me. I don’t see her in the room anymore, but I might as well be back in her office when I first found her body, the first time in my life I had ever truly hoped that I was only seeing a figment of my imagination. The gun in her hand— I try to think of anything else. Anything to keep it at bay. I click my pen repeatedly (Carlisle asks me to stop), I scratch at my wrists and pull at my skin, anything to shift my focus to anything else. Nothing is working. The lump in my throat grows. My heartbeat gets faster, my chest starts to hurt, and suddenly I can smell the blood and rot that permeated the room that night, and I am helpless to stop it— Someone grabs me. I look up to see every eye in the room on me. I can’t breathe, I can’t speak, and I realize I’m in the middle of this meeting, crying and having a full-on panic attack, surrounded by people who already think I’m a headcase. I am sobbing and shaking and unable to steady my breathing and to them it seems completely unprompted at best, and at worst, it seems like it’s because Hermann and Carlisle snapped at me. And even in the midst of my abject humiliation, the image of Dr. Wronski lying in a pool of her own blood is still in my head, still absolutely fucking killing me, and I couldn’t calm down if I tried. I get up and walk out. That’s what fucking happens when I’m forced to try to power through episodes. I could care less what Carlisle does to me right now, I will not stay in there and continue to look like an emotionally unstable baby in front of my colleagues. I go to finish up my breakdown in the privacy of my office, catching a glimpse of myself in a window on the way and hating myself even more at the sight of my own disheveled hair and bright red, tear-streaked face. I sit down and hide underneath my desk, pop another half-a-Clozaril tablet that I try not to choke back up (I’m still hyperventilating so hard I could vomit), and bury my face in my arms. “Adam?” I look up. “Ezra.” I am barely composed, still hyperventilating, swiping at my eyes furiously and futilely. I look away, and I hope maybe he’ll think I’m just sick. I expect him to walk away, pretend that he never saw me like this and just silently let it color his perception of me. But he comes and sits down next to me underneath the desk. I don’t know what to say. “Do you want me to go?” he asks, after a moment. “You don’t have to.” I don’t want to admit it, but I don’t really want him to. Nobody else is this understanding with me anymore. I keep trying to collect myself, barely noticing at first when he puts his hand on my shoulder. “Do you need anything?” I shake my head, still not making eye contact. Theoretically, I’m getting the help I need, and maybe I do need the support of a friend right now too, but I don’t want to trouble him. Besides, I must look pathetic, cowering under a table and weeping, almost comically vulnerable. Hm. “Ezra,” I turn to him, finally, after a few more minutes of whimpering. I know my eyes look crazy, bloodshot to hell. “Can you take me to a mic?” “A mic?” “Yes. A standup mic. I want to see what it’s like.” “Really?” he smirks. “Yes, why not?” I can’t think of the last time I laughed, at least not genuinely. I can’t think of the last time I let myself. My self-loathing has become entirely unfunny, my psyche and my job both absolute nightmares, not to mention the actual nightmares—I need something light. Something just a little bit light. “You would… enjoy that?” “Yeah.” It makes me sad that he seems surprised, though I can’t blame him. I’ve been awfully serious, not even just for the past week or month, but probably since my dad died last spring. He reads my disappointment. “Sorry, Adam, I just… do you like comedy?” “I don’t know. My therapist laughs at my jokes sometimes.” He smiles at that, and I smile too, through dissipating tears. “Well, if you really want to, yeah. The next one is Thursday night.” I nod and take a deep breath. I realize Ezra hasn’t taken his hand off my shoulder, and he is absent-mindedly rubbing circles into my back. Maybe it’s stupid, but I stay as still as I can. I don’t want him to notice that he’s doing it and stop. “Is everyone there funny?” I ask, just to keep his focus. It’s a dumb question. I rephrase myself, “How funny is everyone?” He exhales a chuckle. “Honestly? About thirty people go up every night, sometimes more. They’re mostly shit. Don’t worry, though, there’s plenty to laugh at with the shitty ones.” He proceeds to tell me about the guys who show up high every time and just get up on stage and talk about nonsense (or weed itself) for 5 minutes, the wannabe Dangerfields and Seinfelds and Mulaneys who “never actually managed to glean what joke structure is” (though to be fair, It’s not like I have either), even the bigoted old men still trying with unflinching determination to resurrect “get back in the kitchen” jokes. I am losing myself in his stories, feeling at least marginally more relaxed, when Carlisle appears in my doorway. Ezra takes his hand off my back. Carlisle glances at us with confusion and disgust. “Dr. Collins, if you would please… get up and come see me in my office.” “We’re actually grading papers right now,” Ezra shoots back, in a tone of voice that says “yes, I think you’re stupid.” “Take a break, please,” Carlisle replies, glaring and exiting. I look hesitantly at Ezra, before getting up to follow him. “I do want to come,” I say. “To a mic.” “We’ll talk more later. I should still be here after you’re done facing the wrath of god.” I know I’m about to get chewed out to an extreme degree. Still, I can’t help but grin back at him.

[letswritesomenovels]

You absolutely don’t need a college degree to write a novel. To study creative writing, the only real requirement is to be an avid and critical reader. 

If you’re concerned about grammar and basic style, I’d recommend reading The Elements of Style by Strunk and White, which you can find at almost any bookstore or online for free here. They’ll keep your writing in order on the sentence level. 

If you want more creative-writing specific instruction, there are tons of craft books that will provide great instruction for you. Here are some that I’ve personally read and found useful:

On Writing by Stephen King

Reading Like a Writer by Francine Prose 

The Writer’s Notebook: Craft Essays from Tin House 

I also love writing podcasts for studying craft. They’re free, accessible, and contain a ton of ever-expanding content. Here are some of my top recommendations, lifted from THIS post of mine:

1. Pub(lishing) Crawl

Pub(lishing) Crawl is hosted by NYT best-selling author S. Jae-Jones and literary agent Kelly Van Sant. Together they discuss various publishing and writing topics.

Two great episodes to listen to:

nanowrimo 2015 how to keep going (70 min) This week JJ and Kelly give you tips and tricks on how to keep going in NaNoWriMo

troubleshooting craft – expanding & elaborating (66 min) This week JJ and Kelly continue their series on Troubleshooting Craft, this time focusing on expanding and elaborating, or What To Do If You Need to Flesh Out Your Manuscript.

Pubcrawl on: soundcloud | stitcher | itunes

2. Helping Writers Become Authors

If you have no time for podcasts or anything else, I highly recommend K.M. Weiland’s HWBA. Weiland gives concise, thoughtful writing advice, getting into the nitty gritty aspects of writing mechanics in a couple of minutes.

Two great episodes to listen to:

are you over-thinking your first draft? (8 min)

As soon as I stopped over-thinking my process, my infernal internal editor shut up, my characters started talking to me again, and my writing improved vastly.

how to double your story’s conflict in seconds (6 min)

If a little of the right kind of conflict is good for your story, then how much fun can you get out of doubling your story’s conflict? The answer: oodles.

HWBA on: itunes | player fm | podbean

3. The Narrative Breakdown

There’s a pretty even split on this podcast between novel writing and screenwriting advice. The episodes are between 30-50 minutes long, so they delve deep into the topic of discussion. One of the hosts is Cheryl Klein, an editor at Scholastic.

Two great episodes to listen to:

scene constuction 1 > character expectations & tactics (42 min)

In our first episode on Scene Construction, we talk about general scene structure, character expectations, beats, and character tactics.  

beginnings and inciting events (19 min)

Cheryl and James talk about inciting events as well as how good storytelling is more like a striptease and less like a visit to a nude beach.

The Narrative Breakdown on: itunes | player fm

4. 88 Cups of Tea with Yin Chang

In this podcast, Yin Chang interviews best-selling authors about their writing journey, process, and what motivates them. Chang includes questions from listeners, who are often aspiring writers themselves.

Two great episodes to listen to:

victoria ‘v.e.’ schwab: cultivating stubborn hope & earning your way into the tribe (106 min)

We discuss why it’s crucial to create as few parameters as you can around your writing, and how working with a flexible schedule and freeing yourself from a strict writing place helps with productivity.

sarah j. maas: championing heroines & writing with relentless determination

For craft-focused listeners who might be learning about Sarah for the first time through this episode, she shares really inspiring and helpful advice about breaking out of a writing rut, creating dialogues, and treating your writing like a muscle.

88 Cups on: itunes | soundcloud | stitcher

I hope this helps, @nickiefish! 

[yesiamahunter]

College breakdown

Pairing: ReaderxSam

Warnings: anxiety, definitely swearing, kind of angst? Idk FLUFF

Description: You hit submit on your third essay of the day right when the clock hits midnight and you can’t turn it in and proceed to have a mental breakdown, Sam is there to calm you down.

“No no no no no!” You said praying to Chuck that your computer was wrong. You had just finished your third paper for your online college history course and you had been working all day to catch up on your homework since you’d been away on a hunt and had no time.

12:01

You’ve been locked out this assignment is past due

Locked. Out.

“SON OF A BITCH” you yelled as you threw your history book across the room and then slammed your laptop shut. You were filled with almost every negative emotion you’d ever felt as you stood up. Your hands knotted into your hair and your eyes started to fill up with tears. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you could hear it in your head.

“Y/N?” Said Sam’s familiar voice from the entrance to the study room in the bunker. You turned around dropping one hand to your side and had the other over your mouth as you felt an anxiety induced sob coming out.

“M-my paper!” You said pointing at your laptop. “ I was about to turn it in and then the cloc-that damn clock!” You said while your face was turning all red. You felt about ready to rip a vamps head off with only your hands, “I spent the entire day researching and writing and I finished the whole paper and the citations and the edits and the formatting and I did everything I was supposed to and the clock turned and-and-and he’s super strict and I just lost 40 points and I don’t know what to do Sam!” He had slowly gotten closer to you as you rambled on and his face was full of concern. He was already wearing his shorts and a tshirt ready for bed and there you were yelling at him about your paper.

“Did you try e-mailing your professor?” He said. As if he would try to put logic in a place where logic does not belong (quote- Richard).

You scoffed, “did I try to e-mail my professo-I’m not an idiot! The internet crashed.” You laughed. Sam’s concern only grew stronger. “The internet crashed, I was one minute later, he’s my strictest professor, everything went wrong, of course it did!” You laughed again and threw your arms up in the air while walking over the liquor cabinet, which was conviniently close to the table you were working at, and pulled out a bottle of straight vodka and just took a swig of it.

“Woah woah Y/N hold on. You don’t need to do that. Let’s just talk it over maybe I can help?” He said. Again with the logic Sam. You rolled your eyes turned away from his hands which were reaching out towards the bottle. You took another unhealthily large swig from the bottle and made a disgusted face at the taste before setting the bottle down and walking toward the hallway and Sam walked steadily behind you.

“SON OF A BITCH!!” You yelled again hitting the wall with your fist as hard as you could. Your bones buzzed from your knuckles down to your forearm but that didn’t stop you. “DAMMIT DAMMIT DAMMIT!!!” You yelled hitting it over and over again.

“HEY!” Sam yelled over you at the sight of you hurting yourself. He pulled you back from the wall and you stopped and started crying. Sam slowly turned you around to face him as you still had your arms out in front of you realising what had happened. You’re fists we’re bloodied and tears were rushing down your face.

“What’s wrong Y/N/N? It’s just one paper okay? And there’s a long way to go in the semester it’s not a big deal.” He said reassuring you. But you shook your head as he lead you over to the sink to clean your hands up.

“It’s not just one paper. I knew I couldn’t handle it. I never should’ve tried.” You choked out. Sam let out a sad breath as if he was hurt hearing you say that. He started to speak while wrapping your hands gently.

“Y/N/N of course you can do this are you kidding me? You’re Y/F/N!! You can do anything you put your mind to! You’ve saved me and Dean countless times for god’s sake. And the cases that would never have been solved if it weren’t for you? You’re brilliant. And even if this doesn’t work out, which it will! If for some unimaginable reason you didn’t pass, something like that could NEVER make me stop loving you as much as I do.” He said before kissing your hands. You smiled slightly.

“I love you too.” You said softly, you sniffled still but you felt so much better after that.

“We’re both pretty tired I’d say, so why don’t we go get some sleep now and then see what we can do about your paper in the morning?” He said.

“He said no exceptions so I doubt I can do anything about it.” You said more in a joking manner now.

“Oh shut up.” He said as the both of you laughed and he kissed you.

[lovely-littleletters]

Love & War in Your Twenties

Chapter 1: Emberrased

Jin wouldn’t say he was completely out of the dating field, but it had been a good several months since he last was in a relationship (not sure if you could call it that, a fling maybe.) But who was he to assume this woman would even want him?

Nayeon moved with hopeful dreams and scars. Never did she think she would have to think about being in another relationship.

A fic loosely based on Love & War in Your Twenties by Jordy Searcy.

__________________________________________

Headaches, they never seemed to leave Seokjin. He assumed his hardest years of college were behind him with his four years, but his work towards his masters degree seemed to weigh heavy on him. But he would endure his headaches for fifty more years if that meant he would be steps closer to his dream.

Ah, architecture… Seokjin knew from the moment when he was only ten years old, his father a wealthy businessman who traveled from building to building for his meetings. They resembled something alike to some of Seokjin’s most expensive lego sets. Of course as a child he never knew to appreciate the scaling feet of glass and foundation that went into such beautiful buildings. As he grew older, his fascination with architecture and the idea that his hands, his ideas and creativity could be someones step into their new business venture. Or a place for families to grow their humble beginnings, he could be apart of someone’s telling of life without even being there.

So here he sat, nine-fifteen in the morning, his lukewarm coffee tasting a bit too sweet on his tongue. Listening to his professor intricately explain the effect of durability and the weather tightness of a building.

“Sssp, Seokjin-ah…” a tight lipped murmur came from his left.

“Do you have the time?” Yoongi, Seokjin’s roommate and best friend in his five years of college whispered. Yoongi was a lot skinner and much paler when they first met at the ripe age of 20, partners for one of their assignments in college algebra. Seokjin felt like soaring through the roof when Yoongi explained he was also in the School of Architecture at their university.

Now five years older and way too many mutual breakdowns shared together, Yoongi had definitely surpassed best friend level.

“Yah! do I look like a clock? Check your phone, ahjussi.” He sharply whispered back, playfulness playing in his smile.

“I need to meet Jihyo at the quad in fifteen minutes, her friend from her old neighborhood transferred over the year here. I don’t want to make a bad impression.” He gruffly spoke under his breath, eyes trained on their professor. Like hell he’s trying to get called out at the age of twenty-five.

Jin could only move his eyebrows in a suggestive manner at the mention of his best friends girlfriend of two years. Jihyo, way too pretty and way too sharp to be pushed around by anyone, thankfully Yoongi was as passive as they came.

“I think you’ll have enough time, the professor should be letting out at any minute no-“

BAP! The sharp clap of hands slapping together shocked both men out of their conversation. Their professors eyes sharply pointed at the pair.

“As I was saying. Your essays are due by eleven, fifty-nine pm. No later, or I will not accept them. Any questions?” Professor. Han scanned the room for a hand or tremble of a lip. “No, okay then. Class dismissed, and please remember. You are technically college graduates, adults seeking further education for their masters, please do not make me treat you all like reckless youths.” One final look at the pair left them scrabbling to sit straight and hold eye contact with their professor.

Finally releasing their breath as he turned his back signaling the students to start filing out of the auditorium.

“Wah,” Seokjin exhaled as he started gathering his materials. “I’ve never been more scared in my life, Min Yoongi you horrible influence.” He snickered as he and Yoongi made their way out of the building.

“Yeah, yeah keep saying that. We both know who begs for help on assignments ten minutes before it’s due.” The pale man rolled his eyes, smirking as he gripped the strap of his satchel.

“Brat, treat your hyung with a little respect.” Waving a finger in Yoongi’s peripheral. Only to have the other roll his eyes.

“Yah, Hyung. Don’t pull out the “hyung” card like this, it seems a bit desperate doesn’t it?” Yoongi playfully snipped back, leaving Seokjin guffawing next to him.

“Oppa!' A girlish call came from the right side of them. Long hair brushing her waist, bangs falling over big, owlish looking eyes. Jihyo waved her arm back and forth, skirt shifting around her hips and shirt rising to show a sliver of waist.

Seokjin could have belly laughed at Yoongi’s lack of dignity when it came to his girlfriend, watching as his friends usually neutral eyes lit with child like amusement as he spotted his petite girlfriend.

“Oh! Jihyo-ya,” Yoongi murmured endearingly under his breath. “Jin-hyung, were you going to join us?” He asked distractedly.

Jin inwardly chuckled at his friends question, “No, I actually have some tutoring sessions to get done. But enjoy, have fun!” He gave a gently shove to Yoongi’s shoulder, signaling his friend to just hurry over to his waiting partner.

“Okay, hyung. See you later at the apartment!” Yoongi gave a quick nod as he started walking over to Jihyo. He continued to watch as Yoongi wrapped his arms tightly around Jihyo’s waist, slightly lifting her as he pecked her sweetly on the cheek. Smiling as he turned around, heading towards his next destination. Not before catching the sway of brown hair approaching the couple.

Was that Jihyo’s neighborhood friend? He wondered as he shifted up onto the balls of his feet trying to catch a glimpse of said girls face. Not finding any luck as a heavy group of students passed by, covering his view. Shaking his head and turning back around as he continued on.

He’ll just get the details later on with Yoongi, back at apartment.

——————————————————————-

Three, tutoring session later and a large bowl of jajangmyeon. Seokjin laid sprawled on the couch, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he tried to stay awake.

“Hyung?” Yoongi whispered as he quietly shut the front door, toeing off his shoes and slipping on his house slippers. The crinkling of plastic bags waking Seokjin up enough to roll off the couch and stumble up towards Yoongi’s approaching figure. Two black plastic bags hung from his roommates arm, assuming it was from the corner store across the street from their apartment.

“What did you bring home?” Seokjin inquired, trying to peer into the bags.

“Aish, why do you look so haggard, people will assume you’re in your thirties with those bags under your eyes.” Yoongi chided. Setting down the bags, removing bottles of soju, along with packets of shrimp chips.

“And people will think you have an alcohol problem with the amount of times a week you drink.” He retorted, ironically grabbing two shot glasses from their cabinets, setting them down as Yoongi topped them off.

“I’m in my mid twenties, on my fifth year of higher education. I do have a drinking problem.” He sarcastically replied, knocking back his shot.

A comfortable silence settled over the two roommates, as they continued to drink. Seokjin allowing room for his friend to begin whatever venting session he knew was coming up, spending five years as friends and three years as roommates lets you in on those kind of things.

“Jihyo, wants to get married by next year.” Yoongi confided in the silence. So this is what it was about…

“Okay… I though you wanted to get married.” Seokjin delicately asked, scared of overstepping a line.

“I do!” Yoongi exasperated as he slammed his glass down, letting his head hit the back of his sofa. Balls of his fists covering his eyes as he breathed out. “I just…”

“I don’t want it to be a mistake. I understand where she’s coming from, we’ve been together for two years and she’s graduating this year. I just don’t want us to rush into marriage and resent each other in the future.” He could sense Yoongi’s thought process moving at lightening speed as he talked.

“Did you tell her this?”

“Yes, well kind of. It was sort of tough to when she’s staring at me with her big Thomas eyes.” He chuckled. “I don’t want to say no, because I love her and I do want to marry her. But it scared me when she said, and I quote. ‘Yoongi, if you cannot give me a straight answer about this, what makes me think you are even serious about this relationship?”

He could sense his friends cross road. So Seokjin did the only thing he could for his friend.

“….”

“Well, I don’t know if I would want to marry a train either.” The joke didn’t quite hit, but it got his roommate to groan in annoyance. Breaking the tension in the room.

“Yah, Jin-hyung not the time for jokes.” His words in contrast with the small chuckles coming from his chest. “But I guess I’ll just have to be a man and talk to her confidently about it.” Yoongi groaned out, not quite at a solution, but close enough to make a next step.

“Thanks for listening to my shit man.” Yoongi patted Jin on the shoulder.

“Oh! And her friends super sweet.” He mentioned, sitting a little straighter. “Her name was Na-young- no wait! Na-yeon, super sweet but a little stand offish.” Yoongi recalled, cocking his head to the side.

“She has these bunny teeth, reminds me a bit of Jungkookie actually. Pretty features though, could be your type.” His roommate gives him a sly smile, nudging Seokjin under the armpit where he sat on the floor.

“Yah! Are you basically saying you think I would interested in the girl version of Gukkie?!” Seokjin annoyingly quipped, shoving Yoongi’s foot away causing him to laugh.

“You said it, I didn’t hyung.” Raising his hands up and standing from the couch, Yoongi snickered as he made his way into the bathroom.

Shaking his head. This guy, seriously. His mind wandering to the figure of a brown haired girl he spotted earlier at the quad.

“Oh yeah, Hyung! Clear your Friday night out!” Yoongi shouted from the bathroom, clearly with a mouth full of toothpaste.

“Why?”

“Hoseok is hosting a party at his parents house, Jung-kook is threatening to swing from the chandelier like last time.” He laughed, shaking his head.

“I think Jihyo was going to bring a couple of friends, including your little Jungkookie look a like.” Yoongi teased, spitting into the sink.

“Oh really? We’ll see…” Jin trailed, interest piqued.

—————————————————————

Let me know what you think!