#silently singing along to the whole thing and being all dramatic about it

[maenyx161]

When you go into the kitchen at your parents house for a late night snack and suddenly the radio quietly starts playing welcome to the black parade and for the next 5 minutes you’re just like

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddiemas Day 18 -  Classic Christmas Songs (The First Nöel)

pairing: steddie | word count: 1,924 | rated: G

It didn’t take too long after the song started for Eddie to want out.

He debated staying, just to listen to Steve sing along to it under his breath while he meticulously weaved strips of dough over a pie with what Eddie thinks is way too huge a mound of blueberries, but even that didn’t help.

Steve’s ‘everyone over for Christmas dinner before Christmas’ idea made Eddie skeptical at first, having literally everyone (the Hendersons, Mrs. Wheeler along with Nancy, Mike, and Holly, The Sinclairs, the Hopper-Byers clan, Gareth and Freak along with Jeff and his mom, the Buckleys (of course), and even he and Wayne) together under one roof seemed like a disaster waiting to happen.

But no.

Everyone got along great, the lot of them snacking on meats and cheeses, stolen candy and cookies that Steve had made over the last couple days, Wayne, Hop, and Claudia are fussing over two whole turkeys and a huge ham, and Joyce, Karen and Lucas are whipping up huge batches of side dishes.

And it doesn’t usually affect him this bad anymore, but that damned song paired with all of their huge chosen family together under one roof like this, warm, happy, healthy…he had to leave. 

He did not want to get emotional in front of them.

The sound of the door sliding on its track breaks Eddie’s reverie. It was longer than he thought it’d take for someone to come looking for him, but he suspects that it was done on purpose.

He doesn’t look back at who decided to grace him with their presence, but immediately knows who it is when a hat gets pushed down onto his head, just a bit too far down.

“You’re not catching a cold on my watch, Munson.”

Eddie pushes the fold of the knit cap off his eyes, “Wasn’t planning on it Steve-o.”

“Coulda fooled me. As if trying to withstand a whole winter in a leather jacket isn’t gonna give you a cold.”

A snort of a laugh escapes Eddie’s lips at Steve’s sarcastic tone. “I have, and no colds yet.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” Steve says, sitting down beside him.  “That’s why you borrowed my old puffer coat last time you were here, right?”

The lone poolside chair not packed away for the season wasn’t his first choice of seating, but it was the only one. Though Steve’s dry heat beside him is already a welcome balance to the cold metal and plastic of the chair.

Eddie’s lips twitch up into a brief smile, “I didn’t want to get mine all wet.”

They fall silent after that, and Eddie fishes his lighter and pack of Marlboro’s out of his pocket, pulling one out of the carton and lighting it up.

He offers one to Steve, but he waves him off.

“So.” Steve says after about half the cigarette was gone.

“So?”

“Are you alright, Eddie?”

He stays silent, debating whether or not to actually tell Steve what was wrong or just brush it off again.

“Was it something I–we said? Or did?” Eddie caught the slip, and decided he was going to tell him, but Steve continued on, “I know you’re not the biggest fan of Christmas anyway..”

“No, it’s not—” Eddie heaves a sigh, and even he can hear the exasperated relenting in it. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Steve. None of you did.”

He takes a drag and blows out a long stream of steamy breath and smoke. It hits him then, before he even speaks, that he’s being dramatic. Has been being dramatic. What a stupid thing to get emotional about.

“My middle name is Nöel. Like, fully, exactly how it’s supposed to be spelled for the holidays. The two dots over the O and everything. So it’s just me being dramatic; it gets annoying to hear all season.”

At first, Eddie thinks he’s gotten away with it, that Steve’s silence is just satisfied understanding, but just before he’s about to put himself back on the right way to go back inside, Steve speaks again.

“Where’d the name come from?”

Eddie finally looks over at him, taking in the comically mismatched pink My Little Pony scarf (Erica’s) and bright safety green beanie (Robin’s) he’d thrown on before coming out to the patio. “..Huh?”

Eloquent as ever, Munson.

“C’mon man.” Steve says, rolling his eyes fondly and nudging Eddie’s shoulder with his own. “You act like I don’t know you.”

Eddie’s “You don’t.” is automatic.

Steve just scoffs, “You disappeared without a word, man; normally you announce, with wildly different levels of dramatics each time, that you’re going to smoke, or you ‘gotta take a leak’. You didn’t do that this time so naturally that means this was more than just getting annoyed by a Christmas carol.”

Eddie blinks at him. Stunned by the proof that he, Eddie Munson, was one of the people Steve used his almost insane levels of observation on after all. Usually it’s wasted on the kids; Steve’s acute ability to hone in on exactly what each of the party needs at any given time—how Steve has encyclopedic knowledge on each of their favorite snacks, their preferred drinks, games, movies, which blankets they like to steal from the Harringtons’ nearly bottomless linen closet—almost always goes unappreciated. 

“I may not get a lot of things, but I do pay attention to the people I care about.” Steve continues on, voicing Eddie’s thoughts.

“You a mind reader now too, Harrington?”

Steve grins at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Nah man, I’m just a damn good babysitter.”

Eddie huffs out another laugh, “Sorry to tell ya this, but I don’t need to be babied or sat.”

He doesn’t say anything more, just waits for Eddie to continue.

“It was my mom.” Eddie finally concedes, “She gave me the name Nöel. So you kinda hit it on the head, there is more to it than just the song.

“Wayne says she chose it because she loved the season, that it was when she felt most at peace no matter what else was going on in her life.”

Steve is quiet beside him, just existing in the space while Eddie finishes off his cigarette.

“And that’s why I get so salty about Christmas. It’s not because she died around this time of year, which doesn’t help of course, it’s because she loved the holiday so much. I mean,” he snorts, “She named me after it after all. So this time of year always felt so wrong without her.”

He stubs the flame under his boot, scrubbing it into the concrete and promising himself he’ll come back for the butt later (he’ll forget). 

The younger man is silent for two more breaths.

“Eddie, I am so sorry..”

All he can do is shrug, “It’s fine Steve, I’m used to that song by now–well, I was.”

“What changed?”

Eddie lets out another steadying breath. “When I was little, down in Tennessee, it was worse because I was little. All the crafts and games and things they did with first and middle names in elementary school y’know?” He sees Steve nod out of the corner of his eye. “The kids down there would sing the damn song at me to make fun of me. After I came up here to live with Wayne it got better…kinda.

“The kids here didn’t know what my middle name was, and Wayne would switch the radio station if that godforsaken song would come on come December, but even then, every time it did come up…it was like a pointed little finger poked into the bruise left behind after mom died.” Eddie says, jabbing the air in front of him with his own finger in a harsh movement before letting his hand drop back down to his lap. “It was starting to get better, hearing my name like that.”

“How so?” Steve’s voice lilts into something eager, but just barely.

Eddie sucks in a deep breath and the cold, dry air burns his nose as he does.

“You.” he states, using all the breath he’d taken in on the one word. 

“Me?” Steve asks in disbelief.

“Ever since I found out that you also think November 1st means Christmas decorations need to be up.” Eddie nods, he wasn’t about to tell him about the soupy gut feeling he’d gotten when he heard Steve singing along to that stupid fuckin’ song. “Annoying, but it was the same when I was little.

“You should see the pictures,” he grins, continuing on, “A little Batman helping mom put up the tree because I didn’t want to take off my costume–even slept in it a couple times, waking up the next morning to hot chocolate, candy canes, and popcorn garlands.”

“That’s adorable.” Steve laughs, and Eddie laughs with him, his chest feeling miles looser than when he first came out here.

They’re silent for a bit, listening to the muffed yells of the kids coming from inside about who knows what.

“I’ll follow Wayne’s example,” Steve says eventually. “I’ll make sure to change the station, won’t sing it any—”

“Nah, no way man. You don’t have to do that. Like I said, it was getting better.”

“Still, I don’t want to make you upset.”

“Don’t worry about it Stevie,” he sniffs, looking over the empty pool, “I like when you sing it.” he admits before he can stop himself. 

Aw fuck.

“You do?”

 “I do.” 

What the fuck are you doing?!

“You do.” Steve states as if he doesn’t believe him.

Eddie nods silently, gulps around the nerves in his throat. “It’s stupid, but it’s like you’re singing about me rather than at me. It’s…nice.”

Steve falls quiet, so he turns to face him again; Steve’s eyes are wide, cheeks red from the cold and otherwise pale.

Shocked. And not in a good way.

“Just don’t tell any of the other jerks, ‘kay?” Eddie laughs, it comes out strained. “They’d definitely be singing it at me if they found out.”

Steve’s face thaws into something softer at that, his lips twitch like they want to smile. 

“Also, I hardly doubt Henderson’s got nearly as good a voice as you do.”

That finally melts him completely, “Henderson’s actually got some pipes on him.” he laughs softly and knocks his shoulder into Eddie’s. “You should hear his Madonna.”

“Yeah no. No thank you.” Eddie says as he stands, “C’mon Stevie, let’s go back in and eat. It’s time to eat already, right?” He offers him a hand.

Steve takes it and pulls himself up, “After you, Edward Nöel.” he does a sarcastic half-bow, waving Eddie forward.

Eddie scoffs at him, but starts toward the door nevertheless. “That’s not even what Eddie’s short for.”

“Aw, what?! What’s it short for?”

“Nuh uh, I already bared one part of my soul tonight.” (“Aw come on!”) Maybe I’ll tell you after we’ve been friends for another nine months or so.”

Steve laughs as they reach the sliding door. “Lookin’ forward to it, Eds.” 

Eddie’s about to slide it open when Steve suddenly stops him, grabbing his wrist.

“Wait–Eddie, before we go back inside, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Uh, yeah, sure. Shoot.” he turns to face him properly.

Eddie watches Steve’s eyes flicker over his face. They hover somewhere below his nose before coming back up to lock onto his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?’

“C–can you kiss– What?! Why? When—”

Steve stops Eddie's spluttering when he tilts his head back to look above them.

God. Damn. Mistletoe.

yes, my first name is noelle. why do you ask? no, no, of course i didn't give eddie that middle name just to vent about that damn song... 😳😅

other parts! Pt. 1 (Day 1) | Pt. 2 (Day 2) | Pt. 3 (Day 5) | Pt. 4 (Day 6) | Pt. 5 (Day 7) | Pt. 6 (Day 11) | Pt. 7 (Day 13) | Pt. 8 (Day 18) [YOU ARE HERE] | Pt. 9 (Day 21) | Pt. 10 (Day 25) also on AO3! this year

[secretlittleclover]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝓝𝓸𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

*18+ suggestive themes, swearing, daddy kink if you look at it that way, mentions of nausea/vomiting, crying, begging to be loved (not really i’m just being dramatic), angst if you squint,mentions of p in v, squirt, there's a lot in here,unprotected sex (I don't condone this behavior) I think that is all but let me know*

p.s- this is based off my life but I wrote it as reader x JJ and the sake of it I'm making him like my partner (they act similar) we'll call him Lover!JJ (if you know then you know)for the comfort of any readers. Some people have other names just in case they didn't want to be apart of this mess. This is for pure fun and petty behavior.

Playlist link-https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4ITpX19rUCHse1J5toJCm7?si=lPFu6-E9Sq6RIENVdG1iNQ

You loved to travel, experiencing new adventures and food were the best things life has to offer. The keys were fun but a small portion of you wanted nothing more than to lay in JJ's king size bed and to snuggle with all the plushies you had left over there,drowning in his scent until you fall into a deep sleep. You desperately needed it after throwing your guts up first thing in the morning.

Sitting in the car for hours was pure hell especially when you were having the worst headache,it felt as though your brain was trying to break out of your skull. You aren't someone who likes sitting down for even twenty minutes so to do it for almost three hours was making you beyond anxious,practically shaking in your seat to get out of the car. JJ noticed you were suffering and suggested you put on music to distract yourself so you picked the one playlist that would have your mind very occupied. As you selected the playlist titled yearning , Janet Jackson's soft, seductive voice fills the silent void in the truck. About two minutes in your eye fucking JJ while singing along- "I just wanna touch you,tease you,lick you,please you, love you, hold you, make love to you" - lover shook his head and let a soft smirk cross his face. It was cute until you reached over the center console staring right at him with your hand softly grazing across his lap singing "and I'm gonna kiss you, suck you, taste you, ride you, feel you deep inside me" . A lesson was learned after that instance, unless you want your face fucked 'til your jaw is sore in the far away parking spot of a bass pro shop, never tease JJ while he's driving.

After what felt like a lifetime of driving you finally made it home, JJ's home that is but practically your home, right? Not even ten minutes into making it home JJ's friends invited him to dinner, usually you would be excited to tag along but with the nausea and headache you decided to sit this one out. JJ did feel bad with how bad you had been feeling so he gave you a bit of money to get whatever you want, "If it can help bring back my baby's smile that's all I care about" he smiled. Before leaving JJ insisted that you take some medication and stop saying that you don't need it and you'll just "thug it out". After trying to fight it, you realized you really did need medicine, it was just your luck that there was nothing in the medicine cabinet. What did you expect from a single man in his late 30s,hm?

After an hour of agonizing pain and responding to anons you get the bright idea to make a reenactment of you and JJ having sex in the form of a smut, it would give you a reason to write plus it would be petty, doesn't get much better than that after all your only eighteen, you have your whole rest of your life to be mature. As soon as you heard the sweet sound of that Yamaha R125 , you texted a quick ask to your favorite blog, Star, and rushed downstairs awaiting your lover, your skin buzzing with excitement as the door unlocks. As JJ steps into the door greeting you, he kisses your forehead, you give him time to get out of his gear while asking how his night out was. "It was great sweet pea, would have been much better if you were there" Lover smiles before delivering a few soft pecks on your lips. "You have that flavored shit on don't you?" JJ asks, of course you have on flavored lip gloss, it was JJ's favorite and if JJ loved it, you loved it too.

JJ wasted no time almost dragging you upstairs, it wasn't anything new to you, there was little to no moments where he wasn't in a rush to stuff his thick cock inside of you. His lips clinging to your body,barely coming up to breathe, his hands raking up and down your body. Pushing up your (technically his) shirt just enough to reveal your bare breast and panties, lowering his head to kiss the two perfect mounds, trying his best to give them both equal love but honestly spending more time with one than the other. As JJ's lips wrapped around your nipples, lightly sucking on them (something you usually enjoyed), you started to feel disconnected from the experience, your mind preoccupied with comments made by anons and bitter women on the beach. You knew it was silly and you should have been present but something was just bugging you, now JJ has noticed your sudden disconnect.

"You wanna tell me why you are in la la land" JJ says sternly. You tried to play it off but JJ isn't one to try and lie to. When you do tell him what is bothering you, he laughs right in your face. "Really?" he raises his eyebrow "Come on puddin I know you better than that, since when have you cared so much about some random bitches on the internet?" he shakes he head and awaits for your answer but when you just sit there, trying to hide the fact that your eyes are swelling with tears he simply replies "It's because of that day at the beach,ain't it?" you nod, he sighs while pulling down your shirt, holding you close to him, letting you cry into the crook of his neck. For a while he just lets you cry, not saying a word until you say "I wish you'd love me the way I love you" to which he replies "I know sweet pea, I'm sorry" while rocking you back and forth. You tried to get him to just touch you even a little bit in the way you wanted but he wouldn't. "I know this isn't what you want but it's what you need, focus on your breathing baby" he instructed you.

Eventually you stop crying, your breath starts to steady, you look up at JJ, big doe eyes and all, pressing your lips against his. When you pull away he smiles, swiping his thumb over your pouty bottom lip. "You done with all that crying now?' he asked, you nod still sniffling a little. JJ maneuvers you both so that your laying down, head perched up slightly by the silk pillows he got for you-he knows it has something to do with your hair but he doesn't bother to understand the benifits- his hands trail over you body before lifting your shirt once more, kissing down your neck, to your chest, to your tummy, you stop him once you feel his mouth hovering over your panties. "Papa-" he quickly shushes you "It's okay sweet pea, daddy's just gonna make you feel good okay? 'm gonna make all those bad thoughts go away" maybe it was the way he spoke so deeply and stern, so determined, that made you wanted to give him anything he asked for.

JJ comes back up capturing your lips into a deep kiss. His hands finding a way between you legs, thumb circling your clit painfully slow, panties long gone. You knew that whining and bucking your hips to get any once of friction you can was pathetic but you didn't care anymore, you needed him. He wasted zero time diving his head back down and wrapping mouth around your clit,sucking and licking like his life depended on it. Hearing you let out soft mewls of pleasure was music to his ears. Seeing your face contort in pure pleasure as his fingers worked simultaneously to spread you open was like rainbows to his eyes.

Once he feels that you are ready or rather is too impatient to keep going he drags you to the edge of the bed, softly rubbing your soaked puffy folds with his thumb while his other hand works to get his pants and boxers down, removing his thumb only to slap this his thick cock against your pussy a few times before sliding his flushed, swollen, tip against your sex. JJ pushes your legs to your chest before sinking into you. It's still a new feeling for you since you were a virgin when you met lover. His hands rested on the back of your thighs, letting his head fall back and his eyes close, softly stroking your thigh with his thumb to comfort you. "It's alright baby, I know I know" he coos slowly pushing as much of his cock your tight cunt could take. "There you go puppy, feels much better now right? Fuck this is all mine,this is real, nobody can take that away from you". He gives you mercy on holding your legs to your chest and allows you to drape them over his shoulders, resting his forehead against yours momentarily. JJ thrusts faster, making sure he hits exactly where you need, not that he needed to try so hard, his cock curved slightly downward exactly where you needed, it was like it was made for you to take. "I've got the sweetest little angel in my bed every night you think I give a fuck about what bitter motherfuckers say,hm? People talk sweetheart but as long as I'm buried into this sweet greedy little cunt I don't give a fuck about who has a problem with it" you wish you could say something, anything, but nothing but needy whimpers and moans fell from your lips.

You felt yourself getting closer, as JJ's thrust became sloppier yet still rough while ramming into you, you knew he was close too. Your eyes slowly start to fall until JJ grabs your face forcing you to look at him. "Keep those pretty eyes on me sweet pea 'wanna see your eyes when you cum" he chuckles as you grab at his shirt he didn't bother taking off as your legs tremble, you brain was pretty much mush at this point, it was all so overstimulating and as soon as he saw those tears start to form in your eyes and that desperate little cunt clenching around him, he knew.

"You gonna cum, you gonna cum for papa sweet girl" you nod mindlessly, staring into his eyes as your toes curl. It didn't dawn on you that squirted all over the floor but it didn't matter once JJ pulled his cock out, stroking it right over your pussy, practically coating it with hot spurts of cum.

JJ grabbed the nearest cloth he could find to wipe you up,throwing it in a random corner of the room before laying down next to you and holding you in his arms. "I love you" you whispered into his neck, "I know sweetheart" he kisses your forehead. You knew that you weren't going to be a life long partner. You knew that this wasn't going to end the way you needed but this made you happy. Being his made you so happy. One thing was for sure, he really did have a magic stick in his pants that made all the sickness go away.

~Clover

[laalaaliaa]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write a titans x reader who doesn't celebrate their birthday. Like you just don't care about it, youll just go along with your day like you normally do because you dont wanna bother anyone. And unfortunately, the team was not aware of this.

When you woke up you were met with a lot of smiles and 'happy birthday!'s. You just smiled awkwardly at them as you ate your breakfast calmly. You were bombarded with a bunch of smiles questions like "so, what do you want to do today?!". You were feeling overwhelmed so you quickly finished your breakfast and went to your room to hide.

You stayed there the whole day, not leaving unless it was important. They trued to pry you out but you just made up excuses.

The next day everyone apologized for not being able to celebrate it, you said that it was ok and how you don't really celebrate it because of all the attention. They took you out to celebrate anyways.

Thank you <3

Birthday blues

birthdays aren’t your thing, but they’ll make it one!

titans x gn!reader

enjoy and apologies for taking so long :)

(happy holidays to those who celebrate!)

It was loud, the minute you emerged from your room you were startled from your sleepy state at the sound of a party horn being blown in your ear. You held your ear defensively, a vague scowl on your face as you looked at your perpetrator. Gar only smiled at you, a party hat with the words ‘Happy Birthday’ written across as the horn hung loosely from his mouth. “Happy birthday Y/N.” He cheered, dramatically throwing up jazz hands as he blew the horn continuously.

You waved his gesture off mindlessly, the smell of food invading your senses and prompting you to walk towards the kitchen. Your mouth fell in shock at the sight of a birthday banner strewn across the wall, and balloons indicating the age you’d be turning. Right, today. Kori turned from the stove at the sound of your feet pattering against the hardwood floor, a bright smile on her face, enhancing her features. “Happy birthday, I am so excited for whatever you plan.” She sighed dreamily.

You laughed awkwardly at that, in hopes it’d discourage any questions about your plans for the day. “Smells good.” You changed subject, nodding your head towards the food she conjured up. Upon your statement she quickly turned back to the stove, removing the pan from the hot surface and allowing it to cool, an aroma following suit. “All for you, speaking of—the others should’ve been here by now.” She spoke, her back towards you as you glanced around the overly decorated kitchen.

Upon her statement, the rest of the Titan’s filtered in, greeting you with birthday greetings as you could only smile awkwardly. Once Kori turned back into your vision, a cake was in her hands, the age you were turning sticking out the cake as she lit the candles. You opened your mouth to protest, only to be cut off by the rest singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to you. Throughout the duration you clapped feebly, laughing once they finished and staring back at Kori who was already staring at you with a smile.

“Make a wish.” Rachel cheered from behind you, her hands comfortably wrapped around your shoulders as she gently guided you towards the cake. You could only close your eyes quickly before blowing out the candles, watching the way the smoke rose and disappeared before the sound of everyone clapping registered your brain. Kori set the cake aside, guiding you towards a seat at the table that had a sash, indicating that’s where your rightfully belonged.

“Now before we get started on plans for the day, you need breakfast—for energy of course, so I made your favorites,” She started, pointing out every dish as she squeezed your shoulder affectionately. “Enjoy, it’s all yours.” With a quick glance her way as she moved back towards the kitchen, you couldn’t help but feel guilty for all the effort she put in. As you silently piled all your favorite foods on a plate your head snapped up at the sound of Dick speaking.

“So, any ideas for today?” He started, snagging a piece of bacon from the plate Kori passed by with, before she distributed it to Jason and Rachel. You only shrugged, covering your mouth as you spoke with a mouthful, “Didn’t really think that far ahead, besides I’d rather just cool it for today.” Gar seemed to be shocked at your statement, his voice loud as he spoke, “Cool it? It’s your birthday, today is all about you.” He pointed out. You only smiled at his dramatics.

“I don’t really celebrate my birthday.” At that, he gasped in horror, a hand on his chest as he frowned. “Who doesn’t celebrate their birthday? That should be a crime.” He voiced out, his head low as he shook his head in disbelief. You only shrugged, turning your vision back to your plate as you began to eat quickly. “Are you sure you don’t wanna do something? we’d really love to celebrate your big day.” Rachel spoke from across you, a sympathetic smile on her face. You only shook your head, silence consuming you as the Titans voiced out questions and concerns.

You were caught off guard as Jason jabbed at you under his breath, “What type of weirdo doesn’t celebrate a birthday?” You fork clunk loudly against your dish, silencing all chatter as you pushed your chair out, “I’m gonna have to take a rain check for today.” Jason was punched on the shoulder by Rachel who gave him a condescending look before her gaze, as well as the others, fell on you as you left.

The remainder of your day was spent in your room, the possibility of a dent being in the one spot you laid in all day wouldn’t have surprised you. There were occasional knocks, with questions like—‘Are you okay?’ or ‘How are ya’ feeling?’ but you only gave vague answers before leaving it at that. You left your bedroom sometime during the night, lurking in the kitchen for any clues of left over dinner. You buried your head in the fridge, a frown on your face before you pulled back, releasing a startled scream and ultimately scaring Jason as well.

“Why the hell are you standing there like a creep?” You scolded, a hand on your chest as you stared at Jason judgingly, he stared at you warily, his bottom lip wedged between his teeth before he spoke, “Maybe don’t creep around the kitchen like a weirdo at midnight.” He justified, ignoring the way you scoffed offendedly at his statement. It was silent between you two, up until you moved towards the snack cabinet, half of the snacks gone of course.

“I also wanna apologize.” Jason piped up, the cabinet falling shut as you released it from your weak grip. You glanced back at him with a timid smile, waving him off as you assured, “It’s fine, I kinda do feel like a weirdo.” You joked, a halfhearted smile making its way onto Jason’s face as he recalled his earlier quip. “Look, maybe it doesn’t have to be a birthday celebration tomorrow, but we wanna take you out, maybe just for dinner, or even lunch—dunch.” He finished, dramatically pointing a finger your way.

You released a genuine laugh, scrunching your nose up as you questioned him lightly, “Dunch?” He nodded his head, a shrug following suit before he spoke, “Or Brunch.” You only hummed, telling him you’d ‘think about it’ before bidding the boy goodnight, and disappearing into your from for the remainder of the night.

The next morning was a great start, the Titans apologized for their pushy behavior and questions, and they took you out to eat, at your favorite restaurant too. You all sat at a large table, spilling jokes—even accidentally spilling a drink on Gar. It was great, and for once you enjoyed celebrating your birthday.

Dunch was the best.

[astrangebird]

special thanks to @queerofthedagger for letting me uh borrow their idea of Hob drunkenly singing Sweet Dreams to Dream :)

“Oh I love this song!” Hob hollers from inside the fridge as the thrumming beat of the next song starts, a buzzing synthetic sound with a heavy thump of a bass. Dream likes to pretend he hasn’t heard every single song on Hob’s playlist just to hear him talk about them, especially on nights like tonight when he’s filled to the brim with energy to keep moving, keep telling stories, keep drinking, keep living with all the vibrancy that entails for him. Even at this hour Hob hums with vitality. And Dream’s certainty not going to remind him that he has had a hand in some small way or another in most of the music he’s ever heard. Why get him thinking about the bigger picture when Dream could lean back and listen to Hob’s tale of every concert he’s ever been to.

Hob pops up from the fridge with two more beers in hand and a gentle sway that tells that he might be a little drunk by now. “Sweet dreams are made of this, who am I to disagree?” Hob sings along half a beat behind with a cheeky smile, wiggling his eyebrows at Dream as if he isn’t very aware of what Hob is all but shouting at him.

“You know this song, love?” He asks, rummaging around his kitchen drawers for the bottle opener he left on the counter.

“I’ve heard it a time or two.” Dream can’t help but smile as Hob keeps humming along.

“When did this come out… not long before our ill fated appointment I believe. Came on a time or two just while I was waiting.” Hob takes a moment to turn the stereo up another notch and catches part of the second refrain, pitching his voice far higher than it really ought to go. But he puts his whole chest into it, tossing his hair back to sing at the ceiling.

Dream catches himself chuckling, silent compared to the music and Hob’s frightfully off-key singing, catches himself being warm at the cheeks with it. Maybe it’s just the alcohol, maybe it’s the warmth of the fire, but Dream has bets on it being that he’s just hopelessly in love. He doesn’t want to keep saying vital, but it’s the most apt word to describe Hob Gadling. And Dream can’t help but think that he is vital, at least to him.

“Some of them want to use you,” Hob pushes one of the beers into his space with a sharpness that this song seems to demand of him, “Some of them want to get used by you.” Hob winks at him before tossing his hair dramatically for the next line, “Some of them want to abuse you,” he smirks a haughty thing over his shoulder that Dream would, on a normal night, take as a challenge, “Some of them want to be abused by you.”

“I have my doubts that you have it in you at your age to abuse,” Dream croons, taking Hob’s hand to assist him in a more steady path to the couch.

“So little faith in me after all these years, darling?” Hob giggles and tips the neck of his own beer to his lips.

“I have infinite faith in you.” He can’t help but smile. He’s always smiling when he’s around Hob Gadling. It’s embarrassing, really, how easily he wormed under his skin. Embarrassing that he effortlessly leans into Hob’s side like that’s simply where he’s meant to sit. Embarrassing that he enjoys how comfortable and right it is to have Hob’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, warm and welcoming and vital.

“That may be a little bit too much faith.” Hob laughs, pressing his face into Dream’s mess of hair. He hums a little bit of the song against his scalp, inscribing it there for Dream to think of later any other time Hob aims his kisses and affections to the unruly part. “Everybody’s looking for something.”

There really isn’t a better word, is there?

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii ari<33 how was your day? how is it going? tell me tell me!! MY QUESTION IS what movies would be your movies with gojo n geto n shoko?? like something you're both always down to watch

i just thought about this bc i put jackass on for background noise (a totally normal thing to do i know) and i realized that jackass would absolutely be something me n gojo would bond over lmao i think he'd find it so funny and he'd react to everything sooo dramatically like he's crawling backwards over the couch he's gagging he's crying he's laughing and he will most definitely wanna fucking try some of the stunts............................ he's stupid and i love him

- @softgirlgonehaywire

MICKEY !!!!!!!! hihihi!!!!!!!!! so happy to see u here hehe. my day was good!!! 🌻🌻🌻 im trying to take advantage of my uni break to read and write a bunch!!! which is super fun :D i wanna check out more of ur stuff sometime soon too !!!!

what abt u mickey?? did u do anything fun??? i hope ur day was (or is!!) super duper lovely <33

AAAA AND. thats the cutest question ever im losing it im biting at the walls tysm for indulging my sashisu obsession….. this got long u have been warned ‼️

FIRST OF ALL i just wanna say i havent watched jackass so i cant comment as much as i want to 😔😔😔 bUT i trust u and agree w everything u say yep yep !!!! AND i 100% agree that gojo would do movie stunts w u THATS SO CUTE 😭😭 he would do the most complicated dangerous stunt just to impress u <333 and then break his ankle. and force u to nurse him back to health it was on purpose :/

ahhh but!!!! honestly mickey i dont watch as many movies as id like to……. (PLS GIVE ME RECS 🙏🙏🙏) i have some faves and genres that i love tho!! so here r just some general thoughts :3

gojo is canonically down to watch basically anything so i feel like we would hunt down the most awful/low quality/unintentionally hilarious movies we can n just lose it laughing. ALSO…. im not super into reality tv but i think gojo would LOVE that shit. obsessed w it. i would watch his silly little reality tv shows just to make him happy <333 i feel like he would have genuine beef w people on the show too PHDKDJD LIKE DAMN IS IT REALLY THAT SERIOUS… but it is. he’s out for blood.

….. also this is me being self indulgent lets be clear but: some part of me thinks gojo would love musicals <33 its the would-be theatre kid in him. i love and cherish the legally blonde musical and i know he would too. he sings along obnoxiously loud which would be super funny if he was tone deaf but sadly he has a beautiful voice LMAOO

NOW as for shoko …… she loves horror movies. loves them loves them. i think she’d actually prefer really bad horror movies though. bc she thinks the over-the-top effects are so funny… either way im suffering bc im a scaredy cat LOL. but i feel like she’d like that too <33 (i would cry and she would comfort me by explaining how splattered brains ACTUALLY look and that would make me cry more)

AH ALSO … i have literally no idea where this came from and its not a movie but!! i think shoko would be unreasonably obsessed w the office. its her hyperfixation. we would binge it together all the time <33 my favorite is michael but she would compare him to gojo (objectively correct comparison) and i would no longer be able to see him the same way

and then for sugu…….. he’s so pretentious mickey. i just know he is. ONLY watches good movies. if u ask nicely he’ll watch a bad movie w u but will silently judge it + ur taste the whole time i hate him. (i dont.) idk i just feel like he has way too much to say abt fight club and the godfather PSBDJBF TELL ME U SEE THE VISION…. will lowkey mainsplain them to u but its sugu so i think its fine <33

but jokes aside i think sugu just has Good taste. beyond the mainstream toxic man movies (and even w those i think he has genuinely good and interesting takes he’s simply Perfect)… i feel like he has a wide selection of lesser known movies that are actually really really good and he shares them w u <3 and gatekeeps them from everyone else im thinking like old monochrome french movies w really interesting plots …. indie gems …. etc etc.

but as i said im not knowledgeable abt movies at ALL so i think id just have to trust his taste n watch them w him 😭😭 i cant decide if he’s the type to pause the movie every two minutes to explain something or give u side eye if u talk while its playing PDBDJDJ EITHER WAY… i love him.

OH BUT BUT BUT …. i think sugu would love mystery movies a lot!!! and they r my favorites ever ever ever. i love knives out & the 2009 sherlock holmes movies so i would force him to watch them w me. thankfully theyre super good so we’d both be happy :) yeah.

if u pay attention while reading u can tell the exact moment i started getting carried away i think PDBDJD THIS WAS SUCH A GOOD QUESTION MICKEY ….. so fun to think abt. if u have any more thoughts on what u and gojo would watch PLS tell me i am itching to know 🙏🙏🙏🙏

[marvelslegacies]

Cass & Noah | Left Brain, Right Brain | Past Paragraph

Jarome had been gone for four days now and surprisingly, the worst that had happened was a broken window (Noah was playing some made-up kind of baseball in the house) and an unsteady mountain of dishes had formulated in the sink. All in all, Cass was proud of the way he’d taken care of the house and had even vacuumed in Jarome’s absence, a chore Jarome and his two housemates usually had to negotiate and grapple over because nobody wanted to do it. And in that freshly vacuumed living room which Cass had just exited, Noah flopped onto the couch and turned on the television, going to Netflix.

“Caaaaaass!” he sing-songed excitedly. Cass rolled his eyes, making a mental note that the younger boy sounded like a hyper-active child.

“Whaaat?” he called back, playing along. He had just opened his novel.

“Come here! Come here! Come here!” The chant came like spitfire. “Come watch this thing with me it’s very important!”

Cass set the book down and rubbed his temples, he consoled himself by muttering, “If he doesn’t get attention now he’ll only get worse.”

Teleporting to the living room, Cass found Noah sitting up right on the sofa (which was a first) and bouncing up and down in his spot, overjoyed. He beat down on cushion next to him as if performing a drum roll, “Sit! Sit! Sit! It’s starting.” Teleporting once more, Cass appeared on the sofa, legs crossed sophisticated and arms draped across the back rest in relaxed indifference.

“Noah, what is this?”

Noah grinned fully, his lips moving quickly as he sang with the music, “He really meant to drop the water bottle. You thought it was an accident…” when the bit ended Noah complied and informed Cass, “It’s Bo Burnham’s new stand up and I want you to watch it at least until this one part.”

Cass sighed and looked around the room as if already bored. “This is the guy that wrote the song about institutionalized religion being a joke?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” Cass shook his head disapprovingly. Even though he had secretly enjoyed the song very much. Cass tried not to show too much amusement in watching the comedy central special… although it didn’t matter because Noah was too engulfed in his own positive emotions to notice whether or not Cass was enjoying himself.

“This is it! This is the song! Ssh!” Cass snapped towards Noah. “I haven’t said a word this whole-" 

"SSHHH!” A jittery finger pressed against the lips of Cass’ half-open mouth, causing Cass to jerk away in shock. He sighed dramatically and turned his silent and undivided attention back to the television.

I am the left brain, I am the left brain I work very hard to my inevitable death brain

“That’s you!” Noah interjected. Cass side-eyed him but said nothing.

I like Oreos and pussy yes! in that order And I cried for at least an hour after watching Toy Story 3

“That’s me!” Noah exclaimed, giddy in an almost scary kind of way. Cass looked at him in amazement, shaking his head with disbelief as Noah lip-synced on point, making ridiculous faces as he did so. Cass wasn’t sure which performance took more preparation and energy, he didn’t know which one deserved his attention more.

Left Brain… Left Brain, I love you! I know.

“That’s us!” Noah shouted, laughing and bouncing up and down.

“Okay, okay. You are way too excited about this.” Cass stated, trying and failing to calm down the atmosphere. “I know!” He continued to bounce. Cass hid a smile and figured he might as well watch until the end. Bo Burnham was one of Noah’s favorite comedians.

[ssentimentals]

dating seungkwan feels like...

singing your heart out in karaoke. it's this rare sense of comfort when you are not afraid of acting silly and receiving weird looks; it's about never being called 'too much' or 'over the top', it's about knowing that you are perfectly fine the way you are, knowing that you are enough, knowing that any form of you will be accepted and loved.

('why i can't be somewhere in the middle?!' you lash out in frustration. 'i'm either too much or i'm not enough why can't i be just-just..' you trail off, unsure of the ending. 'ugh.'

'just what?' seungkwan asks. he was silent during your rant, listening closely but not scheming in. 'just fine? just enough? you already are, dear. in fact, you are so fine that if they reject you it's only because they recognize competition in you.' pure sincerity in his voice makes your eyes fill up with tears and seungkwan rushes to your side immediately. 'no more self-doubt, dear, only confidence in your capabilities. and you are perfectly capable.')

seungkwan is someone who joins you in any of your antics; when you suddenly start acting like you're in the movie - he instantly plays along, when you want to dance under the rain - he's spinning you in circles and hums some tune, when you feel like screaming - he takes you somewhere far and lets out all frustrations with you.

('my fort is better,' you proclaim proudly, giggling when seungkwan huffs dramatically. 'don't be a sore loser!'

'we need an opinion of a third person or else it's not fair.' he quickly takes pictures of both of your forts and sends it into the group chat, asking which one is better. 'loser cleans the bathroom whole month and i'm definitely not doing it!')

he is the soft hum of your favorite song, he is a bubbly laughter that lights up your mood, he is a steady hand to hold on to when you need support; seungkwan is many things but above them all he is loud. Loud in the way he proclaims his love to you ('i will go to the roof right now and shout 'i love you' from there if you don't believe me!'), loud in the way he shows that he cares ('where is your hat? and scarf? don't make me go all mother hen on you, you know i will!'), loud in the way he is not ashamed to let everyone know that you two are together and that he is so, so proud to have you.

('you look very..proud,' you comment, sliding to the seat next to your boyfriend. seungkwan's hand wraps around your shoulders and he quickly kisses your temple, ignoring whistling from the boys. 'wanna share why?'

'i'm just so proud that you are with me,' he answers honestly, grinning. 'everyone here loved you, boys came up to me to say how nice you are and i'm just- really happy. and proud.' he smiles and squeezes your shoulder: 'i knew they would love you.' but then his face changes and he adds: 'but they can't love you too much cause competing with my friend for you is not ideal-'

'oh my god, boo,' you interrupt, rolling your eyes on his dramatics. 'don't go overboard, okay?' you ask and when he nods, you peck his lips, smiling. 'good. and just for the record - i'm proud to be with you, too.')

seungkwan goes into relationships all in, treats them like his most important solo project on which succeeding is the only option. he is serious, diligent and although he usually tries to laugh his efforts off, he does try to be the best for you. he's doing it all, he searches on google the best gift ideas, checks reviews of new places, asks his friends for an advice, reads forums - all to be able to give you the best experience. he is shy inside but tries to come off as confident as possible and with you he grows, matures into someone he's really proud of.

dating seungkwan feels like a car ride with windows down: sometimes wind gets too strong but that doesn't deter the happiness and freedom you feel in your chest. you know that we are just tiny humans but seungkwan makes you feel like you are so much more, like you are moon and sun and all of the stars; he makes you feel like living is best when it's done loudly.

a/n: the way this one sucked the life out of me when i wrote it..god. check out my other works here - nini <3

tag list: @pearlygraysky @woozionascooter @smalliechelle @jaetaimjadore @yeow6n (let me know if you want to be added!)

[im-his-druidess]

Okay but purposefully flirting with Thomas to get Lucille’s attention because she’s been ignoring you. She’s a brat tamer for sure

She really is 😩🔥

Maybe she was ignoring for a particular reason, a punishment or maybe she was just stuck in her head, but you were used to her touches and attention so you did the one thing that you knew for sure would get her attention.

You flirted with someone else.

Of course, that person being Thomas was purely because he was the closest person around, and Edith thought the whole situation was endlessly entertaining. Thomas just stared at you with a wary grin and sparkling eyes when you would place a hand on his his for a few seconds longer than necessary or when you begged him to teach you to waltz while clinging to him dramatically. You would tease and ruffle his hair while standing on your tiptoes, bumping his hip playfully when you passed him, and all the while you could feel the steely gaze of Lucille on you.

The last straw was when you pressed a chaste kiss to Thomas's cheek after he brought you your afternoon tea, a harmless gesture that you've done countless times, but coupled with everything else proved to be too much for Lucille who was striding in to join you. It only took one look from her to have Thomas immediately excusing himself and then she had you pressed against the table with her long fingers tightening over your jaw in a tight firm grip, Her face was inches from yours and you whimpered at the feel of her body heat soaking through her dress and into you as you braced your hands on the table behind you.

“Oh, my sweet butterfly. You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” she asked softly and you pushed up against her helplessly when her other hand tunneled beneath your dress and undergarments and slid between your thighs.

“This belongs to me and you were flaunting what is mine,” she continued in the same soft tone, nails biting into the delicate skin of your throat as her hand trailed down from your jaw to your neck and you cried out weakly when she cupped your sex.

You could feel yourself grow slick at her her touch and she grinned wickedly.

"I wasn't...I wasn't flaunting," you whimper weakly in protest and the hand on your throat tightened and her lips brushed against yours as soft as a wing of a butterfly.

The warning was clear in her bright blue eyes, the way they stared down at you as if staring into your very soul, and you silently begged your hips not to grind against her hand still possessively cupping you. Instead, you let your body go soft and pliant in her grasp, tilting your chin up to offer more of your throat and spreading your thighs wider so Lucille would have ample room to slip her fingers over your sex if she wanted. Her fingers instantly slid exactly where you wanted her, where you ached for her, and you moaned her name as your eyes fluttered shut. Two fingers slowly pumped into your dripping core, her palm grinding against your swollen clit in the most delicious way, and her hand on your throat never lost its tight grip.

"You are soaking my hand, little butterfly. Was this what you wanted? Was I just not giving your greedy cunt enough attention?" She hissed and your legs nearly collapsed at her words.

The slick sounds coming from between your legs made shame burn hotly in your chest, but you eagerly spread your legs wider when she pressed a third finger inside you. You cried out her name, your hands gripping the edge of the table until they throbbed, and your hips bucked against her hand desperately. Pressure was coiling tight in your pelvis while pleasure was singing along all of your nerves and you were panting her name like a mantra. Sweat was beading against you skin, sticking to your dress uncomfortably, but you could care less at that moment. All you cared about was Lucille. Right as you were about to hurtle over the edge into sweet blissful euphoria, Lucille pulled her hands away from your body altogether, and took a single step back.

The sound you made was almost inhuman.

You were slumped against the table, trembling with pleasure that was fading and leaving you cold and hollow as you watched with eyes that filled with frustrated tears as your lover licked her fingers clean. She looked far too pleased with herself and you really should have known better than to think her ire would be so easily placated with your show of submission. Once your trembling subsided and you didn't feel like you were about to splinter apart at the seams, she wiped away your tears and kissed you gently, purring against your lips in approval when you opened eagerly for her. However, she pulled away from your lips, and cooed at the heartbroken sound you made. She lovingly fixed your hair and smoothed out your dress.

"There you go, my darling. Now... let's see if you can be a good girl the rest of the day, yes? If so then I'll happily bury my tongue in that sweet little cunt of yours until you scream yourself hoarse," she said primly, as if talking about the weather, but heat sparked low in your belly at her words and you were babbling before you even realized it.

"I'll be a good girl, I promise! I'll be good, Lucille. I'll be a good girl," you rambled almost frantically, tears once again threatening to spill from your eyes, and she smiled softly at you. Her eyes were as sharp as a knife's edge.

"You better be, my love."

[kaleidoscopic-quiddity]

things i really loved about episode 10

(in no specific order because i can’t choose a single favourite thing) 

the fact that homophobia is still nowhere to be found in bad buddy! i was worried it was gonna become a thing in the plot now that the parents have found out about pat and pran but i was happily surprised. i know stories about homphobia and the real lived experiences of mlm are both important and relevant, and absolutely deserve to get told, but its just nice to see a queer story that’s still engagingly  dramatic without needing to use bigotry to create said drama 

ink and pa getting together!!! congratulations lesbians i am so proud. i was kinda worried that inkpa would remain as just a teased relationship that would never actually come to anything but im so happy that bad buddy took the plunge and had them explicitly state their feelings for each other, and in the cutest and sweetest fuckin way possible 

pa’s coming out scene with pat. i love that a big deal wasn’t made of her sexuality, no ‘have you always liked girls?’, no ‘ but i thought you were straight?’, just pat being a supportive big bro and telling her ‘you like anyone you want’ 

bad buddy once again subverting old and tired BL tropes by having the whole ‘unsupportive parents find out about their sons’ relationship’ bring pat and pran closer together, not split them apart in a dumb last minuet breakup for extra drama

speaking of the parents: chai was the underrated king of this episode, whilst i do thing he couldve done more to support pran and stand up to dissaya, i love that he was aware of pat and pran’s relationship and was chill and supportive about that, especially since in the BLs its usually the father’s who are the most vitriolically homophobic 

korn blatantly fucking flirting with wai, i was laughing my way through that entire scene and im so happy pat and pran’s friends are finally getting along 

pat declaring his love for pran in front of the entire architecture faculty, we stan a lovestruck himbo 

all the fucking allusions to marriage/engagement this episode??? like i see you  👀 you aint subtle  👀

bad buddy clowning on dumb BL tropes yet again by directly making fun of the ‘they’re in love but are actually secretly brothers thing’, i just love how clear the production and actors are about how they find stuff like that just as stupid as we do

pat and pran’s visit to the high school being interspersed with ‘aw babe you had a crush on me? thats so embarrassing’ ‘we’re dating’ ‘still’ vibes, i completely love how even tho theyre together now pat and pran still love teasing each other and competing over sily things like who fell first 

god i know it was a heart breaking scene but pran breaking down in pat’s arms really speaks to his character development, the fact that he no longer feels like he has to hide his pain and that he willing lets himself be supported by someone who loves him, i was also totally crying

also!!! pat’s silent tears? the way he was clinging to pran just as tightly as pran was cling to him?? the head/neck caressing? the ‘lets get away from here?’, my heart hurt so much i was literally clutching my chest 

the fact that wai finding out pa already liked someone (and that that someone was a girl) wasnt used to create another jealously plotline or to make wai into a sexist/lesbophobic/incel antagonist but was instead a comedy beat was so relieving for me

pran standing up to his mum had me cheering out loud, hes literally come so far in these 10 eps

and the fact that what she’s done to him, plus the fact that she hit him, wasnt played off as just ‘oh thats how asian/strict parents are’ or ‘well it wasnt even that hard of a slap’ but was instead clearly shown as something serious and genuinely detrimental to pran 

he was only there for one scene but korn stole this episode for me, literally every moment hes on screen is hilarious and drake brings such a fun energy to his character 

pran’s love song!!!! nanon’s singing voice is so beautiful and im betting now a complete version of the song is going to be used during a big romantic moment (perhaps a proposal???) 

its little thing but the way that ink, a taller and older upperclassman giving gifts to pa and flirting with her is very clearly shown as cute and flirtatious and well received by pa, not as a creepy or predatory behaviour, bad buddy rlly said ‘we’re gonna have our sapphics be just as dorky and sweet as our main boys’ 

the fact that dissaya and ming’s dispute wasnt over a bad break up, or being cheated on, or some other lowkey sexist reason (crazy ex gf trope anyone?) but instead was about a very real issue that effected dissaya’s future 

and, the fact that all of that is not used to excuse how she treats pran or to try and suddenly make her ‘sympathetic’ or ‘understandable’ in her awful parenting

this one’s technically episode 11 but pat asking ‘can i kiss you?’ is genuinely so important to me. itd be so easy to have a big dramatic scene where pat pulls pran into a surprise kiss and the music swells and blah blah blah but instead its shown that even in well established relationships consent is not only still important, but can be very sweet and romantic too 

[mythiccheroacademia]

— the little things they love about you

𝕙𝕠𝕥 𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕤: 𝕚’𝕞 𝕚𝕟 𝕤𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕒 𝕗𝕝𝕦𝕗𝕗𝕪 𝕞𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕠𝕞𝕝. 𝕡𝕥 𝟚 𝕤𝕠𝕠𝕟!  𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: 𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕖

Shinsou Hitoshi:

he loves how much you appreciate the sky

when youre both on a walk, either in the midst of conversation or in comfortable silence, hitoshi always catches you looking up and thinking

whether it’s to look at the clouds or the stars, your eyes travel across the wide canvas above and all he can think about is how relaxed n ethereal you look doing it

you do this little smile and then look back at him and he has to quickly avert his eyes as if he wasn’t staring

people say your head tends to be in the clouds, but he knows it’s just bc you have an appreciation for the larger parts of life

it’s something small out of the 1000s of other things he adores about you but he wouldn’t change it for anything

Sero Hanta:

others may find it weird or annoying, but you always put that wide triangular smile on sero’s lips when you just randomly burst out into song

like yall will be sitting around in his room, studying, and all of a sudden you go,

“we be all night, LOVVVVVEEEEE” (pls tell me yall have seen that one video of meg where she sings it w her head out of the car skskksks) and he just loses it

or everyone’s having lunch together, talking n whatnot, and you start muttering, “ pop a perc’ and I blackout, fuck it, I’m blowing her back out, WWE if she fuckin w me, put that pussy on smack down gang, gang, gang, gang—“

everyone’s like??? but sero (and bakusquad tbh) is vibin and 100% joins in

it’s a cute little quirk of yours that he finds adorable and funny. you just never fail to put him in a good mood. he’s just v grateful for you

Todoroki Shouto:

he absolutely loves it when you put your make up on bc it’s a whole show and a half

whether you have it on or not doesn’t matter to him, but seeing you get so hype makes him smile

you’ll wipe away the baking powder and start feeling yourself

“oooouuu you see that contour? period.”

shouto can’t help but chuckle under his breath and shake his head when you start dancing because of your sharp eyeliner

it might be a bit simple, but your happiness and goofy attitude brings butterflies to his stomach bc...damn, you’re really his :’)

Bakugo Katsuki:

every time you kiss his hands, bakugo swears he needs nothing else in his life

his hands have always been both a pride and an insecurity of his

he’s got so much power in them but he gets sweaty a lot and he tended to accidentally blow up a lot of things and sometimes hurt people...especially as a kid. so he subconsciously keeps them hidden

but then you come along and just change his life w the small pecks you give them every day

it’s nothing dramatic or corny. just a quick kiss for if you leave his arm or when he cups your face

maybe you don’t mean it, but he thinks about. even though you know what they could do, you still trust that he won’t hurt you with them and that means the world to him

Togata Mirio:

your reaction to most of your emotions is to jump and mirio thinks its literally the cutest thing he’s ever seen

when youre happy or excited about something, you’ll do this grandiose jump

when you’re sad or frustrated, you’ll do quick mini bounces and pout

even when you’re just going about life, you’ll sometimes skip around

you remind him of a cute little bunny and he just goes ahhhhhhhh every time

you must be protected at all costs!

Tamaki Amajiki:

he loves those moments when he’s got his head on your chest and watches silently as you play games

whether it’s a game on your phone or the console, he likes to see you so into whatever youre playing

and he adores it when you make dramatic noises or tell him how unfair something was

despite your theatrics, it’s calming for him bc he realizes how comfortable you are w each other

tamaki also thinks your foul mouth is funny despite his soft reprimands for you to not curse

he likes it when you win, but a small part of him likes it when you lose as well bc you’ll pout and then he gets to take it away w a soft kiss and say, “it’s okay, bunny. you’ll get it next time”

Dabi:

he loves your attitude

he thinks it’s so funny when you make lil stank faces if someone does something you don’t like

or when he tries to tell you something about yourself and you go “and what about it?”

and the times you get in a sour mood and everything is a shrug or a bored stare

it’s annoying asf sometimes but the way you purse your lips, roll your eyes, and roll your neck gets him going lmao

he’s a sassy bitch himself and enjoys someone who matches his energy

Shigaraki Tomura:

this is so ironic (and lowkey creepy ig) but he loves watching you moisturize

please hold the jokes 💀

shiggy doesn’t care about much in this world, including himself, and being your bf threw him into a loop bc...feelings

so he finds himself staring at the mundane things you do bc you looks so peaceful and beautiful doing it

when you smooth the shea butter in and your skin is soft n glowy, he can’t help but think, “wow”

extra bonus points if you use face oils bc he’ll go into cardiac arrest...like how are real and why do you want him?

and when he holds you, he breathes you in like your fresh air and hates his life a little less

Hawks:

he says he hates it but he loves it when you do his eyebrows

his brows are something serious lmao but when you started dating, you would take your razor and tweezer and shape them bc he absolutely will not get them threaded or waxed

hawks thinks it’s really not that deep (besides, he got you w his bushy brows anyway right?)

but he sits and takes it bc he likes (you being on top) watching you concentrate and mutter to yourself . it’s cute

it’s also the idea of someone taking care of him that makes his wings twitch w adoration

he falls in love w you a little more each time

[auramindedd]

Fixed? Never - SMAU*

Part 3

CorpseHusband x FemReader

Warnings: cussing

A/N: again, any posts with a “ * ” attached to “smau” has writing in it. imma focus A LOT more on just the social media n message perspective, but y/n n corpse meet in this part soooo i had to add some writing :) something else b4 i forget; i’m updating my masterlist and changing it into a directory post that way you guys can also request through a google form! i’ll have requests open at all times unless i get too stressed out or if they overfill. due to me changing my masterlist, there’s gonna be about 6 posts i think. also,, thank you guys so much for 600 followers! i’ve been hitting a bunch of milestones and haven’t been remembering to say thank you, but just know that i appreciate every single one of you... also i love reading y’all’s comments 😭

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•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You make sure you’re set up before 6 PM, which was probably a mistake. You can’t sit still, you’re starting to get nervous, and you kind of just want to run away to McDonald’s.

Sure, you know Ludwig, Dream, and Rae, but it feels like you’re at school all over again. That anxious feeling of having to be with people while your best friends aren’t around.

You’re leg is bouncing, your nails are tapping on your desk, and you can’t stop running your hand through your hair. It probably looks like a fucking bird nest by now.

You start streaming, deciding that maybe talking to your supporters will make things a bit better.

“Hey, loves,” You greet in a not so Y/N-fashioned way. Of course, the chat catches on, and you’re being called out for it. You can’t help but giggle at the fact that your supporters know how you usually are.

@user: What happened to, “Hey, bitches!”

@user: Ou, someone is nervous.

Yeah, they obviously know you very well.

“Alright, let’s start over.” You clear your throat for dramatic effect because, well, when are you not dramatic? “Hey, bitches!” Yup, even you know that just feels right.

After a while of talking to your supporters, Rae sends you the Discord invite and the Among Us code. You join, feeling your nerves start to come back.

“Y/N!” Rae exclaims in excitement when she sees you’ve joined the Among Us lobby.

“Hi,” You say, shyness lacing your voice.

“Oh my God! The cutest voice.” Jack says. Wow, what a compliment coming from the Jack_Septic_Eye.

You take time to introduce yourself to everyone, trying to calm your nerves.

“Are we gonna start?” Ludwig’s impatient ass asks.

“We’re waiting for Corpse.” Rae explains.

Shit, another person you have to introduce yourself to?

“Hey, Corpse!” Sykkuno greets quickly, very obviously racing to be the first to say hi to Corpse.

“Hey, Sykkuno,” Corpse chuckles, and woah, the last thing you expected. You can’t help but be surprised, and you know it’s showing on your face. Why? Because your supporters are teasing you in the chat.

“Corpse,” Rae says in a sing-songy tone. “This is Y/N.” And your heart drops to your fucking stomach. Every single time it happens when you have to meet someone, but now your heart is beating even faster because you’re obviously the only one who hasn’t met Corpse. They’re all expecting a reaction out of you...

“Hey, Y/N.” His deep, husky voice says. You can hear the smile in his voice and it helps ease your nerves.

“Hi,” You greet, shyness still lacing your voice.

Corpse chuckles, “So cute.” Now you’re blushing. Great...

Rae starts the game, saving you before the others can start teasing you.

Crewmate.

You’ve only played Among Us once, in a public server with Dream, George, Karl, and Alex, and then you got bullied for not knowing what the fuck to do.

To say the least, you’re pretty glad to be Crewmate and not Impostor.

“Y/N!” Jack shouts, walking up to you. You slightly jump, forgetting they’re playing with Proximity Chat.

“Jack!” You shout back, letting his astronaut catch up to you.

“We were expecting a reaction.” He says, and of course they were.

“Uh, yeah, I don’t know. I feel like he hears it a lot, don’t want to add on to the list of Things People Say To Him Everyday.”

“Yeah, he’s probably very grateful for that.”

“Grateful for what?” Charlie walks up to you two.

“Nothing,” Jack drawls. You’ve just met Charlie, but you know that he’d tease both you and Corpse about one another’s voices.

“Oh, I know!” Charlie exclaims, but before he can say what he knows-

“Okayyy! That’s enough interaction with Charlie for today.” Jack says, and you take that as a, ‘Walk the fuck away now, Y/N!’

You walk around, trying your best to finish tasks, but when it comes to the card swipe in Admin, you want to quit life as a whole.

“Ugh, I fucking quit.�� You groan, slamming your hands on your desk. A deep, rumbling chuckle comes through on your headphones.

“Having trouble?” Corpse teases.

“Yeah. I wanna rip every strand of my fucking hair out.”

“Swipe it slower.” And with that, you try again. Voila! Just like magic.

“Well if I would’ve fucking known.” You groan, Corpse chuckling.

“Here, I can help you with the game.”

“Yes, please, I don’t know shit about it.”

“You know, you cuss a lot for having such a sweet, innocent, and cute voice.” Corpse laughs.

“Yeah,” You drawl. “I know, bad fucking habit.” You slap your hand over your mouth. How does someone cuss in every sentence? Get a filter, damn.

Corpse walks around with you as you both finish tasks, explaining how the game works, and giving you tips for when you do end up being an Impostor.

Honestly, you could listen to his voice all day. He’s also really sweet.

“What are you two up to?” Brooke asks, doing tasks in Electrical with you two. Corpse told you to make sure you’re always aware of your surroundings when you’re in Electrical. So, naturally, you’re freaking out, but silently and internally.

“Brooke,” Corpse warns. He doesn’t even have time to finish his warning. Brooke kills him, his body flopping over, the one bone sticking out from the top of his body. Your mouth falls open.

“Hey, Y/N. Let’s be besties!” You don’t know what to do, but ay, #girlsupportinggirls, right? So, you walk with her. She helps you along the way, also telling you tips on the game, explaining how everything works. Then, after about a minute, a whole 60 seconds, Corpse’s body is reported.

“Why Corpse? Such an innocent man with a beautiful voice.” Lud fake cries.

“Get over it,” Brooke says.

“It’s Brooke! Brooke’s an Impostor!” Lud shouts.

“What? No! I was with Y/N for a lot of this round.” Brooke defends herself, and oh fuck, who the fuck do you defend? You’ve just met both of them, one of them will possibly hate you forever.

“Y/N?” Sykkuno grabs your attention, snapping you out of your thinking.

“Yeah, she was. She wouldn’t have had time to kill Corpse. Where was the body?” Well, there you go, potentially ruining yours and Corpse’s blooming friendship. Sad Girl Hour, type beat.

“In Electrical,” Charlie says.

“Yeah, no way she would’ve had to time to kill him.”

Nobody’s voted out. Brooke hasn’t even told you who the second Impostor is so, you don’t know if you should stay with her or not.

As you and Brooke are walking around, or skipping as she sees it, and holding hands, Dream pops out of a vent. Well, there’s Imposter two.

“Woah! Dream, way to out yourself out.” You tease, throwing your head back and laughing.

“Please, you’ve been with Brooke the whole time. Don’t say anything.” Dream begs, making you and Brooke giggle.

“I won’t, I won’t.”

“Thank you,” He starts walking away from you guys, but not without finishing his sentence that you thought was already finished. “Cutie.” And there, finished.

Fucking finished! Tweedle-dee, tweedle dum! Whoopty-fucking-do! Fan-fucking-tastic! A-fucking-mazing!

And of course you’re blushing for the whole 80,000+ people watching to tease you about.

“Oh my God!” Brooke squeals. “What was that?!”

“I’ll explain later,”

•*•*•*•*•

“Y/N, how could you?” Corpse says, offended.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know what to do.”

“She’s my enemy, Y/N. We were supposed to stick together. I told you some tips and tricks, explained how to be a badass Impostor, everything!” Wow, he’s a good fucking actor.

“I can very well do the same thing, bitch.” Brooke spits, all in a playful manner - you hope...

“Not better than me, bitch.” Corpse retorts, his astronaut getting closer.

•*•*•*•*•

Imposter.

With Corpse.

Great.

Your enemy. Or as he put it, “Enemy who he can maybe, and most likely, will become friends with in the near future.”

“Follow,” He says, and even though he’s your enemy, you do.

“I gotta do my own thing.”

“You don’t know how to do shit.” Corpse scoffs.

“Okay then, what the fuck are we gonna do?”

“Double kills, all the way, but only when we meet up with each other. So, right now, we’ll both go our own ways, but when we see each other again, we’ll walk to a pair and do a double kill if we can.” Corpse explains.

“Brooke told me not to do double kills often. It won’t help get through a game.”

Corpse snorts, “Brooke doesn’t know dog shit about this game.”

“Fine,” You groan, going along with it only because you don’t know dog shit about the game either.

As Corpse explained, you two do double kills every time you meet up. You two managed to get double kills where people rarely go - Shields, Comms, and the top of Cafeteria.

After killing Rae and Sykkuno, the game ends. You made sure to leave Brooke and Dream alive.

“Period, we did that!” You exclaim, everyone else groaning and complaining about how you two should never be an Impostor duo again. “But I still fucking hate you because you hate me!”

“Exactly!” Corpse retorts in the same tone as you.

•*•*•*•*•

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[cherryjuicegf]

a little favour

Five things Jaskier asks from Geralt and one thing Geralt asks from Jaskier.

3.2k, fluff/mild angst (ao3)

i.

Geralt feels a pair of eyes fixed on him and he tenses. The whetstone in his hand stops its metallic sound and he’s pretty sure the sword is sharpened by now, yet he can’t bring himself to leave it aside and raise his head. He inspects the blade, or pretends to do so. His always stable hands, obligingly fit for a witcher, are now slightly shaking. He chooses to ignore it. He clenches his fists, unclenches. Sweaty. The night is warm.

Slowly, he raises his look, meeting two blue eyes piercing him from across the fire. Jaskier has a pensive smirk on his lips that makes him look stupid but Geralt would be lying if he said he could take his stare away from it. The heat, he thinks. It’s the heat.

He squints. “What?”

Jaskier doesn’t respond immediately, yet he appreciates that he’s acknowledged with a small huff. His eyes continue to peer at Geralt, up and down, like the eyes of a werewolf ready to devour its prey. Softer, though. So softer. Geralt feels bare under his gaze, swallows. Finally, Jaskier speaks. “Tell me a story.”

He can’t be asking for a story, Geralt thinks. It’s not what he wants. Before he even manages to get angry at himself, he kicks the thought out of his mind. Of course it’s not what he wants. So he raises his eyebrows, a bit grudgingly, and tilts his head. “I thought you are the storyteller here.”

Jaskier laughs and he knows he can hear this sound forever. “You know what I mean,” he says and gestures wildly with his hand. “I need inspiration and where else will I find it if not in a story with monsters of the ones you oh-so-minutely narrate?”

A small smile curves Geralt’s lips and he chuckles lowly. He never shares details of the creatures he has to kill. Jaskier knows that, thus the cunning glint in his eyes. He shrugs. “You really want to sing to people about themselves?”

“Geralt,” Jaskier huffs a silent laugh and throws a pebble at the witcher’s feet. “You know what I mean.”

How can I not know, Geralt thinks, how can I not know the reason you’re still here? He scolds himself, then. A friend. His friend. Jaskier is his friend and he never fails to say how Geralt is a friend of his. Still, it makes him afraid, afraid that the more his love grows for that man, the more desperate he will be if he leaves. And he’s not one to get attached.

He indulges him though. With a small sigh and a look in his shining eyes, he does. Do it for me, they whisper. How can he not?

“Have I told you about that bruxa in Kaedwen?”

ii.

“Can’t you just not go?”

Jaskier fiddles with the edges of his shirt and looks up at Geralt. If he listens closely, he can hear his heart thumping against his chest. Already. Geralt hasn’t even left yet. He’d be more than grateful if he doesn’t ever, in fact. By the glare he receives from the witcher, he concludes that’s not going to happen. And his heart beats faster.

“But you said it yourself!” He stands up and approaches Geralt, who’s too focused on his armors buckles to look at him. “The hunt is nearly deadly!”

Geralt snorts impatiently and glances up at him, shaking his head. “It’s deadly for you. Which is why you’re staying here.” He finishes fixing his armor and grabs his gloves, his eyes now fixed on Jaskier. “For me, it’s just dangerous.”

The way he looks at him makes Jaskier shiver. Really, he’s never met anyone before who can be so cold and reassuring at the same time. Geralt’s stare is sharp and imposing, yet he can feel warmth inside his chest as he discerns the gentleness beneath, the one the witcher is so good at hiding. He doesn’t hide it from him, not anymore. That’s what he hopes anyway. As Geralt’s lips twitch in the faintest smile, he prays he’s not wrong. Still, the force of habit.

Eleven people have been killed by a thing whose name he finds himself unable to remember. The dread that suddenly overwhelms him makes his fingers go numb. They could be twelve. They can be twelve. Today. Before Geralt turns away, he shakes his head. “Geralt, please.”

Geralt frowns at him, tilts his head, his voice gruff. “Jaskier.”

Some silver strands fall in front of his eyes and Jaskier’s hand twitches in its place in an attempt to hold from brushing them away. Instead, Jaskier bites his lips and clenches his fists. A lump is choking him mercilessly. Afraid to let him go, afraid to look away from his eyes, afraid he’s not seeing them again. He takes a breath he doesn’t release. “Please come back whole.” Do it for me.

Geralt chuckles and Jaskier cherishes the sound like the most precious stone. The witcher nods before heading out the door. “That I will.”

With a last smile, he closes the door.

In the morning there are heavy steps on the stairs and Jaskier feels his heart returning to its place.

iii.

Geralt reaches the door and stops right before he goes in. For a second, he listens. Smells. Heavy puffs of breath are heard inside the room, the faint scent of tears. He frowns and opens the door. Jaskier is standing beside the window, looking outside silent, as silent as one crying can be. Geralt feels his heart ache.

“Jaskier?”

The bard jumps and turns at Geralt. With a bright smile that doesn’t suit his flushed face, he wipes his eyes. “Geralt! You scared me, you bastard, don’t you ever knock?” He returns Geralt’s gaze and the witcher feels like he’s reading him but that’s good, it gives him the chance to read Jaskier too. He tilts his head and waits for the bard to speak, yet he just turns away again and looks outside at the night sky. Geralt lowers his look for a moment, fumbles with his words. Swallows.

He has no chance to fuck up now. “It was a good performance.”

“Yes,” Jaskier chuckles bitterly and lowers his head, still not looking at him. “Thank you, Geralt, really. It’s not that.” He takes a shaky breath. “It’s just…”

He doesn’t continue. Geralt knows he won’t, because it’s one of those silences that don’t break. He knows Jaskier’s silences well by now, even those few. Still, he can’t take it, he can’t stand watching him cry. He can’t stand watching his bright eyes hollow and his smile distant and not actually there. And he can’t stand not being able to help. So he rests a heavy hand on Jaskier’s shoulder and steps closer. “You don’t have to tell me.” He hears his breath hitching for a second, then a sigh, as if relieved. But he still doesn’t look at him. Geralt tries again. “Can I help?”

A hand creeps up and rests on his. A faint smile, now a real one. Finally, finally, Jaskier meets his eyes. His expression is dark for a moment, as if being unable to find a way Geralt could help. But then his eyes light up, just a bit, and Geralt feels his heart fluttering. “Can you…” He pauses, reconsiders. A reassuring squeeze on his shoulder takes away the hesitation. “Can you hug me, for a bit?”

For me, Geralt echoes in his head and the way his voice is now low and small, so different from what it was an hour ago in the tavern, almost brings him to his knees. And now this. A hug. As if he could say no. As if.

So he smiles warmly and pulls Jaskier into a hug, tight, and presses him to his chest as if to shoulder the worries weighing his. He feels Jaskier hiding is face in his shoulder and breathing deeply, lashes fluttering close. Geralt nuzzles in his hair, resists the urge to press a kiss on his head. Like that, just by having him in his arms, he knows he can do anything. Anything for him.

iv.

“Did you try the honey cakes?”

Geralt looks at Jaskier as he gets off his armor and frowns. “You got honey cakes?”

With a laugh Jaskier raises his head from his notebook and shakes his head. “What are you, dear, blind? I spent half an hour in that bakery today.” He sighs dramatically and stares longingly at the distance. “I crave the day when you’ll appreciate how good care I take of you.”

“Because you bought honey cakes?” Geralt chuckles and walks up to Jaskier’s bag, searching inside. Jaskier can smell the honey cakes before he gets them out but he decides to play hurt a moment longer, for the fun of it. Geralt doesn’t play along. “You’re the one who begged to go into the bakery after all, I asked for nothing.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes and tries to hide a smile behind a smug expression. He outstretches his hand. “Yes, alright mister Mighty-Witcher-I-need-nothing, now bring those cakes here and finally, have something for pleasure, it won’t hurt you know.” He pouts as Geralt throws the paper bag on the table with a scoff and turns away. He knows, Geralt would prefer to fight a hundred griffins than admit he deserves small luxuries. But that’s where he comes in. He never had a thrifty life after all and travelling with a witcher isn't a reason not to indulge oneself, especially when coin is spare. So he reaches to grab a honey cake. And pauses.

“Um.” Geralt turns his head, hearing his hesitant tone, and raises an eyebrow. Jaskier squints, takes a look at the cakes, then at his hands which are painted with black ink all over. There is a solution, he thinks. He can quite simply wash his hands and eat. Still, he would need to write more afterwards. And wash again. And it really wasn’t that complex but as another thought flashes in his mind and he sees Geralt’s waiting look, he smiles to himself. Clears his throat. “Could you give me one, please? There are some,” he huffs, showing his hands, “technical problems.”

He is sure Geralt doesn’t actually think about it when he takes a honey cake between his fingers. He is sure Geralt realizes what he’s doing the moment his fingers touch his lips and Jaskier opens his mouth and secures the cake between his teeth. And his tongue brushes Geralt’s fingertips and they’re sweeter, oh, so sweeter than the actual honey. He looks up at him, feels Geralt’s fingers shake, shivers. Closes his mouth, his lips brushing once more against cold skin, slowly, daringly. Or savouring, if he’s being honest.

Geralt stares and he feels like he’s melting. The witcher’s hand hovers for a moment before he lowers it and Jaskier can still sense its tingling on his lips, their looks still locked on each other, intense. Jaskier swallows. “They’re good. You should try one.”

Try. For me. He doesn’t know what he wants Geralt to try. Only that, as Geralt’s lips brush against his fingers, exactly where his own were moments ago, he feels like burning and, breathless, he lowers his look.

v.

The doublet is uncomfortable. The trousers are uncomfortable. The shoes are uncomfortable. His whole presence is uncomfortable and Geralt wishes he didn’t have to wear a damned doublet in the middle of July. He can’t complain though. He hears Jaskier’s voice in his head. Don’t worry, it’s thin and exactly the shape of your glorious muscles, it will fit just fine. Aside from stubbornly ignoring the bard’s comment about his muscles, he has to admit that it really isn’t that intolerable as an outfit itself. He just feels small inside it, choking. Still, he doesn’t complain.

He glances up at Jaskier, realizing he’s been talking to him all that time, but the bard doesn’t really seem to bother if anyone hears as he rambles in front of the mirror. “Gods, Geralt, the food. The food is just heavenly, as is the wine, trust me, you won’t regret a moment being at this banquet.” I won’t, Geralt thinks, if it’s to gaze at you. Jaskier turns at him beaming. “Even you, my friend, who asks for nothing, will find yourself craving for another gathering similar to that.”

“I ask for nothing indeed,” Geralt laughs at the way the bard repeats his words back at him, “and I doubt I will ever crave for something such as a gathering. Don’t be so hopeful that I’ll keep coming with you.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes with a dismissive huff and fumbles with the buttons of his sleeve. “You’re no fun. Ah, fuck.” He tugs at the sleeve and barely saves its button from falling away. With a sigh, he outstretches his hand and looks at the witcher. “Geralt, can you?”

Of all things, Geralt definitely has no fingers fit to carefully button a shirt. He has however, patience, something the bard hugely lacks of. So he moves to take Jaskier hand in his. And as their fingers slip together, he freezes. Momentarily, yes, since he continues to push the button in its hole. Still, the way their hands touch, the way Jaskier’s skin is warm against his, the way his fingers wrap his delicate yet trained wrist, make his knees weak. He brings Jaskier’s hand closer to have a better look at the button. Dangerously closer. He flips the button inside the hole and hears Jaskier’s triumphant huff, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, his eyes remain focused on the inside of his wrist, veins marking tanned skin. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he leans and places a kiss. He hears Jaskier’s breath hitch. Slowly, terrifyingly slowly, he realizes what he’s done, and immediately looks at the bard. Blue eyes wide, lips parted. Jaskier whimpers.

“Geralt.”

Stay. For me.

No.

Geralt lets go of his hand and storms outside the room, his heart beating faster that a human’s. Before he closes the door, he smells the salty scent of tears behind him. He doesn’t look back.

 vi.

The bandits lay on the ground, three of them, the ones that refused to run when they had the chance. Their blood is forming puddles on the dirt. Geralt stares, panting. He can hear as the heartbeat of the last one vanishes in the wind, so at odds with the birds that are returning to their branches singing.

The birds. Singing. A heartbeat so familiar is now weak as he listens, the smell of blood so terrifying, and his heart skips a beat. He spins around. “Jaskier!”

Time is nonsensical as he runs to the bard’s side and kneels and what he sees makes him want to puke. Not because he hasn’t seen so much blood before, gods forbid, he’s a Witcher. But because the blood is too much. And it’s Jaskier’s. The bard looks up at him, still lost, panting, then lowers his eyes at his stomach, a pool of blood forming slowly. He whimpers. “Fuck.” The way his eyes fill with despair as his look returns on the witcher makes Geralt’s eyes burn. “Do something, Geralt, plea--” his voice is choked in a pained cry.

Geralt shakes his head as if to return to reality. He peers at Jaskier’s wound. It was a sword. It was a damn sword. And it’s deep. Gods, it’s too deep. He looks Jaskier in the eyes and brings a hand on his face firmly. “Listen. Everything is alright. Just stay awake.” Tears flood blue eyes and he feels his heart aching. He can’t let him close his eyes, he’s too afraid it will be the last time he sees them. So he asks, he who asks for nothing, he who needs nothing. “Can you do this for me?”

Jaskier nods frantically, his lips tight as if to suppress another cry. With one last touch, Geralt stands up and runs to Roach standing near, searching inside the saddlebags. If his hands are trembling, he ignores them. Maybe the tremble will go away like that. He returns with bandages and hears Jaskier sob at their sight. He looks at him, helpless but he doesn’t show it. “Awake,” he repeats and proceeds to tear the bard’s shirt open and clean the bleeding dark wound with a wet cloth. Bleeding. It’s bleeding and he sees his nightmares becoming real and he knows, he knows that he should stay calm, that only like that he’s not going to be late. But oh, his hands are still trembling, and his breathing’s short and every time another scream escapes Jaskier’s lips he dies a little more inside. Still, he looks up at him as Jaskier clings on his shirt, his arms, everywhere, desperate. Still, he holds him, cradles him like he’s going to break. He is. “Jaskier. Jaskier, you’re alright.” He snorts, wipes the tears off the bard’s cheeks with his thumbs. “Don’t cry, please. I’m taking you to a healer.”

He raises him on the saddle, climbs behind him, and reins Roach, holding him close. Jaskier is shaking whole, staring at him as if afraid that he’s the last thing he sees. “Geralt,” he gasps and Geralt lowers his look, almost cries when he sees his beautiful face contorted in a pained wince. Blood is staining his lips and Jaskier clings, shakes his head. “Geralt, if I-- I love you, I don’t want to die, please, I don’t--”

“Don’t be stupid, you’re not dying,” Geralt says, more for himself to believe it, and then pauses. And looks at the bard again, at the faint but still-there smile on his lips. “What…” Oh, he can’t do this now. He can’t let himself rejoice, he’s too afraid his joy will be taken away too quickly. Jaskier’s head lolls on his shoulder and his eyes roll on the back of his head and he flinches, terrified, shakes him. “Jaskier! Stay awake!” Jaskier whimpers and opens his eyes. He hurts. He hurts and Geralt hurts even more with him. But he takes a deep breath. “Can you say it again? For me?”

Jaskier huffs a wet, weak laugh. “For you, I can say it forever.” His voice is barely a breath. “I love you, Geralt.”

Geralt is trembling. “Again.” Stay awake.

A cry. “I love you.”

“Again.” Awake.

Roach runs like thunder. It’s close, it’s close.

“I love you.”

Closer, he holds him closer, and Roach runs, and Geralt bites his lips. “One last time. Say it one last time, please. For me.” Stay awake. For me.

“Geralt,” a sob, heart-wrenching, and oh, he knows Jaskier can’t take it, he knows. Only one last time. But Jaskier swallows blood and tears, and with a tired smile, he breathes, “Every time, Geralt. I love you forever.”

The trees fall aside and the town’s gates are open and Geralt lets out a triumphant laugh and finally, finally looks down at Jaskier and promises to himself to never tear his gaze from him again. So he leans down and presses his lips to Jaskier’s, bloody and quivering, and kisses him, and then as he meets his wide eyes, he knows every favour granted was for them. “I love you too, Jaskier. I love you too.” Another kiss, on his forehead, and now he’s warm. “Now hush. Hush, love.”

With a sigh, relieved, exhausted, Jaskier lets his head fall limp on the witcher’s shoulder and finally, closes his eyes. His hand, trembling, reaches to hold a firm one on the reins and if he hears a thank you, whispered like a prayer beside him, he says nothing.

For Geralt, he will have more time, more to give, more and anything, he knows. Anything for him.

[watchmegetobsessed]

I Hear A Symphony - Harry Styles

Extra blurb for Floating Through Space!

a/n: this idea came to me out of the blue and i suck at controling myself so i just had to write it! it’s an extra in the universe of FTS, just a little moment for our power couple in their life after the grammys!

the fic again contains an already existing song, credits to the artist, it’s going to be linked in the right place, make sure to listen to it when you see the vid!

pairing: Harry x Famous!Reader

word count: ~2k

masterlist

It’s been two weeks since the first time Harry told you he loved you. Fourteen entire days since the man you’ve been with these past three months told you he loved you, not just with his actions but with his words as well.

It happened so randomly, so out of the blue. You were at his place and following a long and dreading day the two of you decided to have a shower together. He asked if he could wash your hair and you enjoyed the way his fingers massaged your scalp, the intimacy of such a simple yet heartwarming moment ending the day on a wonderful note.

As the water was washing away the soap of your body he leaned down, captured your lips in a simple kiss before the words fell from his lips.

“I love you,” he said, his eyes searching for yours as first you looked down at the floor before your gaze meeting his, lips parted, heart pounding in your chest.

You wanted to say it back, it was on the tip of your tongue, but no word came out your mouth, a slight panic rushing through your senses from his confession. So you pulled him down and kissed him hard, hoping he can feel that you meant to say it, but you weren’t ready to actually form the words just yet.

It’s been eating you away for so long, because the feeling has been there for a long time, probably since the Grammy’s when the two of you sang your heart out in your duet, but your body is plotting against your mind, not letting you say it the way you want to. But you feel like the moment has come and being the dramatic artist that you are, you want it to be big. Because Harry deserves a grandiose romantic gesture.

You’ve been working on your new album for a while now, but needless to say that when you met Harry, you wrote quite a few songs about him that demanded place on your upcoming record, but so far you haven’t shown him any of them and you have a major reason for that.

The very first one you started writing about him turned out to be a massive song. Not because it has a full ballad as the lyrics, it barely have just a few verses. It’s because what started as just a simple melody for the piano soon turned into a monumental symphony with a full symphonic band and you decided to compose the entire melody, to all of the instruments yourself, because it was the only way the song would feel entirely yours. And Harry’s.

Recordings have been going on for weeks just for this one song, because you needed it to be absolutely perfect since it’s been in consideration to be the title of the album. Now the song is done and you are ready to show it to Harry and finally tell him how you really feel about him.

Sitting at your dining table you watch him type out an email to Jeff, eyebrows furrowed as he is still chewing on the last bit of his dinner. His unruly curls are covering his forehead and you smile to yourself as you reach over and push them back, making him glance up at you.

“What’s gotten you so smiley?” he asks, putting his phone away to turn all his attention to you.

“You,” you tell him, tilting your head to the side.

“Me? And why is that?” he smirks, grabbing your hand before you could pull it back and bringing it to his mouth he gently kisses your knuckles.

“What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?” you ask, ignoring his question.

“I’m guessing you are about to tell me,” he smirks, letting go of your hand so he can rest his chin in his palms. “What were you thinking about?”

“Would you like to come to my recording session?” Harry’s eyebrows shoot up from surprise, he surely wasn’t expecting this.

“You want me there?” He knows how you like to keep your works to yourself until you feel comfortable enough to show it to someone outside of your little team. You’ve only shared with him bits and bites of songs, nothing major, so this invitation is clearly a big deal for the both of you.

“Yes. I want… I have something to show you.”

He could tease you about finally showing him something, or crack a joke about being so into him that you wrote a song about him, but he doesn’t do anything of that sort. Instead, he just smiles back at you with so much adoration and love filling his eyes, it could make your chest burst. Leaning closer he kisses your lips softly before pecking the tip of your nose as well.

“Would love to join you.”

You hold onto Harry’s hand for dear life on your way to the studio where you’re going to have your final recording of the song. His song. A whole orchestra is going to be playing for you and while you’ve recorded the song in layers before, today you’re gonna perform it all together for the first time, every instrument playing at the same time as you sing. You really wanted to have a version of this sort, so you know what it’ll sound like when you perform it later with the prerecorded music.

You can tell that Harry is just as excited as you are, but he is keeping it bottled inside, not bugging you about what he is about to hear. He knows it’s going to be about him, you wouldn’t want to show him if it wasn’t.

When you pass by several studios and head to the grand room, the only place that fits the whole orchestra in it at the same time, Harry seems to be growing curious, but still doesn’t question anything, just follows you silently.

“Hello everyone!” you call out upon walking into the room, the majority of the band is already there, greeting you happily, especially when they see who you’re with. “Um, Harry is going to join us for the recording, hope it’s alright,” you announce with a nervous chuckle and you get a few knowing looks. Everyone in the room knows it’s about him, you’ve been an item publicly long enough and it’s not a hard task to put two and two together.

Harry waves around with a few short hellos and how are you’s as he takes a seat at the front of the room, facing the orchestra and essentially, you when you’ll be singing. You sit next to him and before the recording starts, you feel like you owe a few words for him.

“I’ve been working on this song for… the longest, because it started with just a piano, but then I kept adding more and more until it grew into a whole orchestra,” you admit chuckling and it brings a smirk to his lips as well, his dimples digging into his cheeks. Then you take a deep breath and try to calm your nerves for the next part you’re about to tell him. “Two weeks ago you… told me you loved me and… I’m sorry for never saying it back…”

“I didn’t expect you to,” he speaks up softly. “I didn’t say it to hear you say it back. I know it takes you a lot to figure out your feelings, Y/N.”

“But I have them figured out,” you reply. “I just…” You take a deep breath, feeling yourself getting emotional already. “This song is the first one I wrote about you.”

“The first? So there’s more?” he asks with a small smirk.

“Of course,” you admit chuckling. “But this one… is the most important one. So I want you to hear it.”

Harry nods and doesn’t question you about never finishing your trail of thoughts about your feelings. He just lets you do your thing knowing that it’ll become a whole sooner or later.

Leaning in you kiss him shortly before you stand up and join all the incredible musicians and get ready for the recording. Harry gets a headset so he can hear everything clearly and when everyone is settled, the recording starts. The song kicks out with you singing acapella.

“I used to hear a simple song, that was until you came along. Now in its place is something new, I hear it when I look at you.”

Then the piano starts playing and eventually the violins join softly before you start singing the second verse, making the melody flow perfectly. You keep your eyes off of Harry, but you can feel his intense stare on you as he listens.

“With simple songs, I wanted more, perfection is so quick to bore. You are my beautiful, by far our flaws are who we really are."

The piano and the violins continue playing, getting more and more dynamic with each played note and you feel a shudder run down your spine. The whole song starts to grow as the wind instruments join in, slowly pulling the melody up to its peek that’s about to come soon. And then it happens. Your eyes find Harry’s when you start to sing the next verse, the whole orchestra playing behind you at its fullest.

“I used to hear a simple song, that was until you came along. You took my broken melody and now I hear a symphony…”

The melody continues as you add some vocals, singing your whole heart and soul out, your eyes still set on Harry before suddenly, the instruments cut out and you sing your last line with just the piano playing the last few chords along with you.

“And now I hear a symphony.”

The room grows quiet and your chest is heaving, vision blurry as you couldn’t stop yourself from tearing up. Your emotions washed over you, sweeping you off your feet and now your bare soul is lying in front of Harry’s feet who is still staring at you frozen.

At first you panic at his lack of reaction, but then you see him wipe his eyes and you realize he is crying. Just as you step off the podium and head in his way, he takes his headset off and starts walking in your way and the whole orchestra start cheering and clapping when he envelopes you in his arms, holding you so tight you can barely breathe. You laugh through your tears when he lifts you up and twirls you around in the air before setting you back down and kissing you all over your face, wherever he reaches you. Cupping his face in your hands you pull back a little so you can look into his glistening eyes.

“I love you,” you finally tell him with shaky lips, a weight finally falling off your shoulders and chest now that you’ve said it.

“Oh baby, I love you too,” he smiles, before pulling you in for a kiss that’s soaked by your tears, but by far the sweetest you’ve shared. “I love you so much,” he mumbles against your lips.

“What do you think about the song?” you ask finally pulling away, wiping your tears off your cheeks, not even caring that there is a whole orchestra watching the two of you interact.

“I’m pretty sure this is what they play when you enter Heaven,” he chuckles making you laugh as you smack his chest playfully. “No, but really. It’s brilliant. I’ve never heard anything like this. And having you sing it live for me with the whole orchestra… My mind is blown, baby. It’s going to be hard to top it with anything,” he adds chuckling.

“That was my plan all along,” you admit with a laugh before you pull him down for another kiss.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[pradaksj]

Safety Net || part two (final). (m.)

all rights reserved © pradaksj

↳do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

❧ summary ⟶ on new year’s eve, you and jungkook reflect on each other’s entire year together.

❧ pairing⟶ jungkook/reader

❧ genre⟶  enemies to friends, friends to lovers, fluff, angst, pining, smut, boxer!jungkook. two-part series.

❧ word count ⟶ 16,000+

❧ warnings ⟶ descriptions of an anxiety/panic attack, character death (non-major), smut which includes ... passionate to rough sex, oral (female receiving), penetration, fingering, unprotected sex (please have sex responsibly lol). 

❧ music⟶ safety net, selfish, stuck on you, exile, +more

❧ a/n ⟶ I am still fairly new to writing smut so sorry if it doesn’t meet your expectations 😭 also to all my people who don’t like smut “*” signals where you can stop reading as the smut is really just a bonus scene at the end. and remember dark purple = entering/still in the past, light purple = present

01 | 02 (final) 

“God were we dramatic,” you laugh, glad that the recollection of your big fight with Jungkook was something that could by now be laughed at rather than seen as something you’d dearly regret, “Don’t you think?” you ask Jungkook, concern immediately washing over you once you see the sad look on his face, “Jungkook?”

Jungkook stares blankly at the lake in front of him, surprised at the resurgence of the same heavy feeling in chest he had felt several months before, “Did I—Did I say something wrong?” you worry that you’ve hurt his feelings, that being one of, if not the, last thing you wanted to do tonight.

Quietly he nods his head no, “I just—” he struggles to voice his thoughts, “I was—” he shakes his head and you grab his hand in comfort, giving him a small smile.

“Hey,” you giggle, “what happened is in the past,” you reassure.

“I know but—” he sighs, pushing his hair back with his other hand, “I just still feel bad, you know? I mean we went a whole month without talking…. practically hating one another…”

August 2019. 

It had been about a month since your explosive argument with Jungkook, and despite living together... the two of you had never been so far apart. Not only were you not on speaking terms, but it was as if neither of you existed in each other's proper world, completely avoiding each other at all costs.

One would think that because you two lived with one another, you’d be bound to have some kind of awkward bump ins from time to time, but somehow the two of you managed to steer clear of each other. From eating breakfast and dinner at separate times, to talking to Hobi at your own respective times, and of course the first thing Jungkook did the next day after your fight was move his things out of your restroom and into Hobi’s. You weren’t going to lie, it did sting just a little , but you were quick to get over it. The part that made Hobi roll his eyes even further back than they already did, was how quickly you two scrambled around each other whenever you did happen to coincidentally be in the same place such as the kitchen.

Originally Hobi tried any and every method possible to get you two to make up, knocking on doors and trying to trick you two into talking, faking handwriting, stealing personal belongings, and of course begging. Hell, he even tried confronting you two in one of the rare times you guys were in the kitchen at the same time, but all you two did was remain silent and go back into your respective rooms. Not bothering to even spare a glance at one another.

He had given up about two weeks in of trying, deciding that it was up to you two to figure out how you guys would make up. But it wasn’t until this Friday morning when he saw a certain letter stick out of the mail that he found himself loudly sighing.

“Oh Jungkook…” he whispers to himself, shaking his head as he read the letter in front of him. What was he going to do now?

It didn’t take long for Jungkook to get used to being the lone wolf in the apartment again, in fact it was easy for him to completely ignore your existence. It was easy to watch you struggle opening a jar full of kimchi. It was easy to catch a glimpse of you and Hobi watching One Piece on the couch whenever he was making his way out of the apartment to go and party. It was easy to hear you sing along to some new girl group song and not join along whenever he passed by your room. And it was very easy to hate you. Very easy indeed.

Gosh, who was he kidding? It was the hardest freaking thing in the world to do. Especially because he didn’t hate you at all. Pretending to? Yes. Actually? Fuck no.

If he was being honest, any hatred he had felt in the moment of the big argument had been rapidly washed away the moment he slammed his door shut. Instead it had been quickly replaced by the feeling of hurt and sadness. He even found himself sneaking into the kitchen that night to grab an extra pint of ice cream from the freezer and watch some stupid K-drama from his laptop back in his room. Even shedding a small tear when the male and female lead had to break up due to unforeseen circumstances. But of course if you asked him if it was true, he’d deny it in a heartbeat.

He’d often find himself zoning out and replaying the fight in his head. God, was he an idiot. What was he thinking destroying your painting like that? Did he really think you weren’t going to react the way you did? Sadly, the answer was a mixture of both yes and no. Yes, he wanted you to feel as hurt as he did, but he didn’t expect you to go fully ballistic on him. Did he blame you for it? No, of course not. You had every right to be mad at him as he had acted out in completely blind rage. Not bothering to stop for one moment and ask himself, am I okay with the possible outcome of what I’m about to do? Had he known it was going to be this, and well … he would’ve never done it.

It just happened so quick. One moment he was staring at the floor covered with broken pieces of glass and the next he had his fist going through the canvas of your painting, destroying the very thing he convinced you to work on. No wonder you hated him…

You hated him and you had every right to. He just wasn’t sure how long he was going to be able to take it anymore. Having to only catch glimpses of you from time to time and not being able to say anything because he was too ashamed to even look at you was truly killing him. And he could only imagine how you felt having to see him every day and night. Knowing the person you hated most was living under the same roof as you. Hell, if the roles were reversed he probably wouldn’t want you around at all.

Which is why as Jungkook currently stares aimlessly at the ceiling of his room, he knows he’s made the right decision.

The night of the fight between you and Jungkook, you had felt a range of emotions that honestly were quite overwhelming. Whenever you’d stare off into space you’d find yourself feeling very sad and reflective, but whenever you even caught a glimpse of your then destroyed painting on the floor you’d feel the rush of anger return all at once. It was like that the whole night, not even an episode of One Piece could cheer you up. If anything it made you feel even more confused because you were on the episode where (spoiler alert) *** dies, and well not only were you mad at how it happened, but sad because it was happening. Hell, that was probably the best way to describe how you felt about the whole argument.

The first couple of days had been hard to say the least, the dynamic between all three of you drastically changing in the matter of a couple days. No longer were there grocery shopping trips together, nor were there laundry days where you and Jungkook would compete to see who could fold the fastest, and of course there were no longer Netflix movie nights where Hobi would complain because you and Jungkook kept cracking too many jokes during the most intense scenes. Your laughs always echoing across the living room walls thus ruining the buildup of the scene.

You were good at pretending you didn’t care, in fact you were great at it. Maybe because a part of you actually didn’t care. You had long been fed up with Jungkook’s moody antics, and him destroying that painting was the final straw. Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t have gone into his room after he specifically told you not to, but you only did because you were worried about him and actually cared about him. Couldn’t he have seen that before he went full on rampage mode and destroyed your painting? He was wrong for what he did, and at the end of the day he had no right to hate you. Right?

These days you found yourself doubting it. It wasn’t like you were in the entire right, you mean you had invaded his privacy … you shake your head, begrudgingly getting out of bed before dwelling on your thoughts for any longer. The re-do of your painting, which currently sat on its easel, serving as reminder that you weren’t planning on talking to him anytime soon.

“Good Morning to you,” Hobi greets, watching you stomp your way into the kitchen, clearly running on an empty stomach. Jungkook was currently out, either working out or …. Hobi sighs recalling what he saw in the letter this morning.

“Good morning,” you mumble, the grouchy mood that Hobi found himself a little too used to making its morning return. In all the years he’s known you, to see you always this …. down …. was very unlike of you to say the least.

Whether you liked it or not, your fight with Jungkook had definitely changed some aspects of your personality, even if you didn’t want to admit it to yourself yet. Because no matter how good you were good at faking it, and trust him you were good (a professional indeed), behind that tough wall you had put up in the last month was a person who was hurt. A person who had their heart crushed right in front of them.

Grabbing two slices of bread, you place them in the toaster, preparing to make yourself some avocado toast. You sigh when you hear Hobi’s footsteps getting closer, not wanting to hear the whole “You need to talk to Jungkook” speech this early on a Saturday morning.

Turning around to face him, you’re prepared to protest against his usual lecture, “Hobi I don’t—” the sound of an envelope hitting the counter catching you off guard, stopping you from continuing any further. Furrowing your brows, your eyes glint with confusion. Hobi stares at you with a stoic expression, waiting for you to grab the letter from the island’s counter.

Slowly you grab the white envelope, extremely confused as to what this had to do with. The name on the recipient line reads, “Jeon Jungkook” and for a small second you feel your heart stop, but you’re quick to shake it off.

“This isn’t mine, if you can’t tell,” you scoff, preparing to hand the envelope back to Hobi.

Pushing your hand away, he says, “Read it,” his tone telling you that it wasn’t exactly an option.

Rolling your eyes, you pull out the single piece of paper that’s inside, unfolding the tri-folded letter. Your eyes quickly gaze over the subject line which reads, “Application Approval,” catching your attention. From there you continue to read…

Dear Jeon Jungkook,

We are pleased to notify you that we have received and accepted your application for the lease property of **** Jangsin-Ro, Apartment 32. Your lease will begin on September 28, 2019 and your rent amount is ₩****  for every 1st of the month. Any cancellations will result in a ₩*** fee. I want to thank you for your application and anticipate that you will have an enjoyable living experience in your new home.

If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me.

Sincerely,

Bang Si-Hyuk.

Wait what? Your eyes reread the letter that’s in front of you because clearly you were reading something wrong. Your eyes must’ve been deceiving you because there was just no way…. Looking up at Hobi, you hope this was another of his attempts to get you to talk to Jungkook, but there he stood, straight faced as ever.

“He’s—” your voice whimpers like a little kid, “He’s moving out?”  

“Ow!” Jungkook squirms, the feeling of your fingers pinching his arm hurting him, “What was that for?!” he yelps.

“For trying to move out without telling us! And don’t you dare ever pull something like that again,” you scold him, tempted to pinch him again.

Garnering a laugh out of him, you cross your arms like a kid and huff a loud breath of air, “Ah I won’t, I won’t,” he giggles, “Maybe…” he mumbles, but he’s quick to raise his arms in defense once he sees you ready to pinch him once again, “I’m just kidding,” he sings and you roll your eyes.

“Serves you right,” you mutter, letting out the hurt you felt that day to him because honestly, you had never gotten the opportunity to do so…

September 2019.

“Jungkook is moving out. Jungkook is moving out. Jungkook is moving out,” you think to yourself, having to come to terms with the fact that in exactly 48 hours from now Jungkook was officially going to be out of your life … for good.  

You were shocked to say the least, when you saw the application letter, not exactly sure about what you felt. You mean, yeah you were definitely mad at Jungkook, but enough to the point where you wanted him officially out of your life? Hell no.

So then where the hell did he even get the idea to move out? It wasn’t like you two were being mean to each other, nor was there blatant hatred being shown on your part. All you two were doing were ignoring each other like two little kids. That should not be cause for someone to move out. Not at all!

A knock on the door catches your attention, “You ready?” Hobi asks, dressed in business like attire. His all black suit made him seem almost intimidating, that was until your eyes landed on his newly dyed cherry-red hair only causing you to stifle a small laugh.

Nodding your head, you look at yourself in the mirror one last time. Tonight was the night of the art exhibition, and you were very very nervous. You had turned in your piece a couple of days prior, but to have to later unveil it in front of everyone along with giving a small speech was nerve wracking. Especially considering you hadn’t involved yourself in the world of the arts for several years now, if anything you were used to constantly talking about accounting numbers and different business statistics.

“It’s either now or never,” you whisper to yourself, not knowing what awaited you.

“I just don’t get it Hobi,” you rant in the car, on your way to the galleria’s location, “he didn’t see me trying to move out when he was being nothing but a complete dick to me those first couple of months!” you pout, still not having accepted that Jungkook was moving out, despite constantly reminding yourself that he was.

Hobi sighs, feeling as if he’s heard you rant about this since you’ve found out … oh wait … you have! “Y/N—” he begins.

“No listen to me Hobi!” you interrupt, “Can he really not stand the sight of me that he feels the need to move out?? Was me going into his room really that big of an issue,” your voice wavers a bit, but you continue nonetheless, “And the fact that he hasn’t even bothered to tell you! So what? He was just planning on disappearing this coming Monday! Thinking no questions were going to be raised? I mean imagine you hadn’t seen that letter, he would’ve left thinking I hate him!” And to that Hobi lets out a scoff.

“What do you mean?” he scrunches his face, “He still is!” Hobi raises his finger before you could talk, “My turn,” he firmly states, only causing you to drop your defensive shoulders and roll your eyes.

“You two have not talked at all since your stupid little argument where clearly both of you were in the wrong!” he rants, repeating what he’s been saying for the last two months, the topic becoming tiresome, “And now one of you is leaving because neither of you can get over yourselves and just initiate some kind of freaking conversation! Just one conversation and I am one hundred percent sure everything will get cleared up and we can all go back to our daily lives, but nooooo both of you think we’re in some freaking K-drama, actually no, even K-dramas make up faster than the two of you!” he ends his rant on an insult, and you’re left there momentarily speechless.

“You are so—”

“I’m what?” Hobi glares at you, and you only narrow your eyes at him in return.

“You are so wrong,” you state, refusing to now look at him, instead looking out the window.

“I’m right and you know it,” you mumble something under your breath in response, “You invaded his privacy after he repeatedly told you not to, but for some reason you just felt the impulsive need to go into his room and find out what he was hiding. You know, I’m sorry Y/N but if Jungkook’s the biggest dickhead in existence then you my friend are the pushiest one,” he complains, finding his grip on the steering wheel becoming tighter. God, did the two of you get his blood pressure boiling up.

“You don’t get it, I had to go into his room,” you mutter, not exactly happy with the fact that Hobi is reading you for filth.

“No you didn't,” the two of you begin to go back and forth, voice raising with every sentence.

“Yes, I did.”

“No you did not.”

“Um yes—”

“Um n—”

“Yes, how else was I going to be able to find out what was hurting him?” you interrupt, turning to face Hobi, feeling the migraine in your head about to pop.

“And why would you need to know that?”

“Because I lo—” you quickly catch yourself before you could complete the sentence, crossing your arms and pouting. Like hell you’d confess in front of Hobi.

Hobi looks at you knowingly, “Because you what,” he taunts, knowing exactly what you were going to say,

“Just drive,” you mumble, your attention back to the window beside you, focusing on the view of the city streets.

“Ah Y/N, there you are!” Jimin greets you and Hobi, having barely walked in from your argumentative car ride, “You’re on in like ten minutes,” he nervously chuckles, worrying only minutes ago that you were going to be a no-show.

“That quick?” you ask in complete shock, barely having taken off your dress-coat. The churns in your stomach begin to make you feel physically sick and there’s now a certain dryness to your throat that you could only accredit to the tension you were now feeling. Your palms were even beginning to get a little sweaty. Why were you doing this again? Oh yeah … Jungkook.

“Come on let’s go and get you set up,” Jimin tugs at your hand, pulling you to follow him. With your other hand, you attempt to look for your flash cards, wanting to remind yourself of the specific points you needed to cover.

“What the—” your heart drops, unable to feel the flimsy piece of paper anywhere near the coat that hung against your arm, “Oh no,” you murmur to yourself, not wanting to panic Jimin, “No, no, no,” you repeat to yourself.

“Okay here we are,” he stops you two in front of your draped-covered painting, pulling out a lapel mic from his pocket, clipping it onto the collar of your outfit. Now that you weren’t moving, you were now barely taking note of just how many people filled the galleria, and it was a lot. There had to be at least 200 people, minimum. Each and every one of them slowly looking around at the already unveiled art pieces, their eyes doing the judging for them.

“Jimin I don’t know—”

“Hey, you’re gonna do just fine, it’s just a bit of stage fright I’m sure,” he reassures, and though you appreciate the gesture, coming from him it just didn’t mean much. You see, Jimin has always been what's called an optimistic person, similar to you in a way. Always trying to find the good in the bad. But in order for his words to really have some effect, it would’ve been better if he was a pessimist, someone who always saw the negative in everything because then to hear that you would do just fine would come more as a shock rather than as something expected, someone like—

You shake your head,“I’m just,” your outfit suddenly begins to feel as if it's squeezing the life out of you, “I’m really nervous,” you whisper to him out of breath, watching as people begin to crowd around your area. Were the walls closing in or was it just you?

He begins to test the mic, “Jimin—” you repeat his name, a cry for help, “I can’t—” but it’s too late.

“Hello everyone,” he speaks into his own microphone, and you scan the audience to see if you can spot Hobi. When you do, you notice the look of panic he has on his own face, probably aware of your distressed state, knowing that there was nothing he could do about it, “This artist I’m introducing to you, has been a personal friend of mine for years. I’ve known her since my first year in college, and I can vouch for just how talented she is,” Jimin glances at you, unaware of just how truly panicked you were, “So without further ado, y/n take it away,” he steps away, leaving you under the sole spotlight.

Remaining silent for a moment, you stare at the several pairs of eyes that had their gaze solely focused on you. “H-Hello,” you stutter into the mic, glad that it wasn’t a handheld one as you were sure that you would’ve been a jittering mess, “Um my name is y/n l/n,” you nervously smile, trying to find something to focus your attention on. Originally you planned on staring at Hobi the whole time, only to find out it made you even more of a stuttering mess. God, was it getting hot in here.

“So um I think we should um reveal the painting first,” you sputter out, signalling to Jimin that it was time. Slowly he removes the drape, the sound of clapping providing you a bit of a soothing effect. People liked it. People freaking liked it. It felt as if a brick or two had been dropped from your shoulders.

You gulp continuing with your speech, “So I um—” breathe y/n, “I call this piece safety net,” you turn sideways towards the painting, ready to explain, “I call it that because as y-you can see in the painting,” you mindlessly point to it as if the audience couldn’t see it themselves, “There’s the um the figure falling into what I call a safety net of flowers and—” you stare at the painting along with them, finding yourself getting lost in your own work, “well I painted this after—” you pause, the room completely silent, “after finding myself wanting to be someone’s safety net,” you mumble to yourself, a certain person coming to mind.

There’s an awkwardness to the room, the kind of stiffness you only find in tense moments. You weren’t sure if it was because the audience was trying to be respectful or you were just making a complete mess out of yourself, but either way Jimin awkwardly coughs, “So um we will now take questions from the audience,” Jimin hesitantly says, by now noticing the extremely panicked state you were in, but unsure of what to do.

A woman raises her hand, a volunteer for the galleria handing her a mic, “Hello,” she politely greets, giving you a warm smile, “So I was curious as to why you chose two colors that don’t conventionally go well together, I was wondering if you did that on purpose or…” and though you know her question means no harm, the voice in your head was convincing you that this was some kind of an attack.

“I um—” your breathing becomes heavier, “I—” Just speak, you keep telling yourself. Tell her that you chose two colors because they represented two different personalities. Say something you freaking idiot. “I um c-chose—” you begin to hear the sound of people murmuring all around you, their voices echoing loudly through your head. What were they saying? Did they hate your painting? Did they think it made absolutely no sense? Was it really that bad? What were you thinking when agreeing to do all this? How could you have been convinced to do this? You didn’t paint anymore for this exact reason.

With every thought that races through your mind, the sudden sense of impending doom only becomes stronger and your rapid breathing becomes louder. You had to be sweating because God did it feel like a fucking sauna in here. The tightness in your throat wasn’t helping at all as well only making the feeling of nausea further overwhelming. You needed to get out of here. Now.  

And so without thinking… you run.

You yank out the mic and begin to run to God knows where, ignoring the shouts of your name along with the small number of gasps that could be heard.You needed to breathe again, and you desperately needed this feeling of danger to be gone.

Trying not to bump into too many people walking the dark city streets of Seoul, focusing on the sound of your heels clicking against the pavement, tuning out everything around you. “Just run,” you tell yourself, “Run until no one can find you.”

Soon the sound of your heels clacking against the pavement becoming the sound of your heels crunching against leaves. The pitch blackness of your surroundings causes tears to begin to well up, the trembling of your fingers along with the chills running down your spine making you feel as if you were running in an endless loop. Stop. Stop. Stop.

You come to sudden halt, pushing your arm against a nearby tree, desperately trying to catch your breath. You were alone now, isn’t this what you wanted? So then why did you still feel as if the world was crashing down on you. Why couldn’t you breathe? Why were hot tears spilling from your eyes? What the hell was wrong with you?

By now your sobs are in full force, your heaving chest only adding to its force. Because of your crying, you fail to hear a voice, “There you are!” Jungkook catches his breath, surprised at how fast you could run in heels. For a small second he thought he had lost you in the chase, with the way you maneuvered around everyone, he was thankful he hadn’t.

“Y/N,” he calls out, expecting you to turn, but he’s met with silence. You were having a panic attack, a bad one at that. Making his way closer to you, he’s careful in how he approaches you, grabbing your hand before you could run any further, “Y/N,” he repeats, this time turning you to face him, but you continue to cry in hysteria, your vision blurred by just how fast tears were falling from your eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey, look at me y/n,” he cups your face with his hands, a worrisome but firm look on his face, “I need you to breathe with me, okay?” your chest continues to heave, the rapid breaths of air coming from your mouth at an alarming rate, “Y/N!” he shouts, causing you to go silent, “Y/N…” he softly repeats, knowing he’s gotten your attention. You stare at him in silence, “One,” he inhales a big breath of air, “Two,” he exhales out, “Inhale,” he repeats his actions again, “Exhale,” he breathes out.

Slowly you begin to follow. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

In no time, your heartbeat begins to slow down, your mind focused enough on the task at hand that you begin to forget why you were ever panicked to begin with. “Hey,” Jungkook whispers, caressing your cheek with his hand, “You’re doing great,” he reassures you, providing you the words of comfort you so desperately needed to hear right now.

It had been so long since you’d gone through having a panic attack, almost forgetting just how bad they could sometimes get. But for now staring into Jungkook’s eyes and practicing some breathing exercises was enough to remember that no matter how bad they got, you’d get through them.

His fingers gently graze your cheeks, continuing to mumble small phrases of reassurance while you were getting control of yourself.  “Has anyone ever told you,” you place a finger to the corner of his eye, quietly breathing your words out, “you have very round eyes,” you say and Jungkook lets a huffed laugh out in response.

He scrunches his nose and smiles, “Yeah, a lot of people have actually,” he laughs, a toothy grin spreading across his face while he uncups your cheeks, feeling a sense of tranquility wash over him as he knew you were going to be just fine, “I’ve been told they look like a doe’s eyes,” you quietly nod your head yes, agreeing with his statement, a warm smile on your face.

“Come on,” he intertwines your fingers, gently pulling you to follow him and leading you to a park bench that was near. But the thing was, it wasn’t just any park bench, it was the park bench from the night Jungkook was drunk and the two of you had gotten into the fight with that drunk man. What were the odds? You hadn’t even noticed that you ran this far till now...  

He exhales a large breath of air once you two sit, allowing a neither comfortable nor awkward silence fill the air. Despite the heartwarming moment that happened only minutes ago, there were still things that needed to be talked about. Things that simply couldn’t be forgotten. It was the sole reason he had gone to the art exhibition because he wanted, no, he needed to talk to you.

He just hadn’t expected to see you running out in complete panic right as he walked in. The tears that were slowly rolling down from your eyes, causing him to feel a sudden sense of heartbreak. For the only reason you’d ever cry would be if your hard work were to be destroyed, whether physically or emotionally. It was the same despaired look you had given him that fateful day he decided to throw everything good that was becoming of his life out the window.

And so to see the scene in front of him play out had definitely caused both a mix of anger and sadness to boil within him. His urge to defend and protect you, almost overcoming his need to go out and make sure you were okay. That was until he found himself running out the door, signalling to Hobi that he’d handle it.

And so now here the two of you were, quietly sitting on a park bench with your hands being the only things physically touching, a comfort of its own for the both of you. It didn’t feel weird nor did it feel wrong because if anything it just felt right.

A part of you thinks and hopes it could remain like this forever, scared that if it didn't, you’d have to return back to the world where you and Jungkook were nothing more than strangers who were once friends. The world where acting as if one or the other didn’t exist was completely normal. The one where you’d find your heart selfishly longing for him despite stubbornly not wanting to. And so whether it be for a small second, a minute, or an hour, for now at least you just wanted to savor the moment because who knew what would possibly happen if he decided to leave and never come back.

“Y/N…” he begins.

“Shh,” you whisper, your puffy eyes softly gazing at the view of the trees in front of you, the silhouettes of trees as well sound of the wind softly pushing against the branches, a view you were once so scared of, not so scary anymore, “Just one more second,” you close your eyes, taking in one final breath of air. Jungkook feels his heart swell at the sight, remembering the scene from only months ago where it had been you doing all the staring. You pull his hand when you’re ready, your soft gaze now directed towards him.

“I just—” he begins to stutter, “I wanted to—” he feels his eyes get watery, the rush of emotion he was beginning to feel almost overwhelming him, “I wanted to say I’m sorry,” his voice slightly cracks, “for everything,” he whispers, allowing a tear to fall from his eye, feeling the weight he had been holding onto his shoulders now falling. The small leaks of vulnerability that you had occasionally seen now completely flooding through his walls of defense, that single tear becoming several, until soon you hear a sob emit from his mouth, but by then you have him wrapped in a hug, the sound of his sobs being muffled by your shoulder. Slowly you caress his hair, gently stroking and twirling the locks of his wavy hair in between your fingers, deciding that this time around silence was the best way to go.

“I’m so sorry,” he hysterically cries, holding onto you tighter, as if you’d go anywhere. He begins to shake his head, struggling to find the words that’d best describe how he felt at this current moment, “I’m—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” it’s your turn to say the words, gently pushing him off you so he could meet your gaze, “I know,” you reassure, “and I forgive you. The same way I’m sure you’ve forgiven me for snooping around your room like that,” you jokingly assume, and he smiles despite having red bloodshot eyes, “We were angry, and we said and did things that we shouldn't had but that doesn’t mean we have to hold them over our own heads for the rest of our lives,” you grip his hand tighter, “you made a mistake, and I made one as well. And rather than explode on one another and ignore each other, we should’ve talked about where we went wrong, and yeah,” you repeat your words from months ago, “maybe we didn’t get to do this as early as we hoped, in fact we’re quite late,” you giggle, “but we’re here nonetheless. And so let’s talk,” you say, ready to listen to the boy you had fallen in love with.  

Jungkook stares at you in silence, a million thoughts racing through his mind, wondering how you always knew exactly what to say at the exact moment, “I,” he hesitates before continuing, “I need to start from the beginning,” he says, wiping any residue from the tears in his eyes, ready to open up the book he had kept closed for so long.

You nod to him, signalling that you were listening, “When I was a kid, I um,” he gulps, “I guess you could say I had a knack for boxing. Originally, my dad had taught me as a way to protect myself if I ever came across a situation that’d require me to defend myself,” his fingers begin to fidget within yours, a sign that he was nervous. Quick to soothe him, you rub small circles on the palms of his hands, his gaze occasionally avoiding eye contact.

“But I also think it was because my dad, who once wanted to be a boxer himself, saw me a way to vicariously live out his dream. Because soon he noticed that the knack I had for it was more of a talent,” a small smile appears on his lips, “and well by then he had begun to seriously train me… I remember always coming back after school and dulging right into practice, waking up on weekends and running laps at the park with my dad in order to gain stamina, and just,” he exhales a breath, “and just thinking to myself how proud I wanted to make him,” uncontrollably a tear falls from his face once again, and he tries to gain his composure before continuing, not wanting to begin the sob fest too early, “Once he thought I was ready, my dad had begun to sign me up for amatuer competitions, and well I did amazing,” Jungkook laughs.

“And soon boxing would become the sport I’d find myself building my life upon, but one day—“ he sighs, knowing the conclusion to his own story and well this was only the beginning, “one day during high school we had this um career day I guess you could call it, and well long story short after going around and listening to how passionate some of spokespersons were of their careers, I remember thinking, is boxing something I was doing for myself or for my father?”

A sad smile appears on his face, “I think the most confusing part for me was that I wasn't exactly passionate about anything else but I also just knew deep down in my heart that boxing wasn’t for me, you know? To this day I don’t know what exactly it is I'm passionate for,” he laughs, “and I certainly don’t see myself making coffee and flipping pancakes for the rest of my life,” he jokes around, an attempt the make the atmosphere a little lighter, “but I think with the help of someone I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s okay to be a bit of a late bloomer,” he winks at you, “one day I’ll wake up and just know…”

You give him a small reassuring smile, happy to know that he’s learned his own lessons along the way, even if it required a bit of pushing.

”But back to my story,” he awkwardly laughs, the small feign of happiness gone, “Though I had realized it already… maybe it was because I was scared, or maybe it was just—” he shakes his head, unable to find the words, “I just,” he sighs, “I just couldn’t tell my dad because for me telling my dad would feel as if I was telling him that all the years of hard work were going down the drain. That the endless nights of working out and exhausting ourselves to sleep were all for nothing. And so when my dad told me that managed to get me a spot at some training camp in the states, I took it. I mean it wasn’t like I had anything going for me here in Korea, and well I needed to guarantee my own future,” he shifts uncomfortably, remembering everything a little too vividly.

“I did pretty well for a couple years, slowly began climbing the ranks, and the natural talent I had for the sport was beginning to really shape itself, even catching the attention of prominent sport reporters. Long story short, I’d find myself surrounded with nothing but yes men and leeches who wanted nothing more than a piece of my so called success,” he gazes off to the distance, ashamed of the ego that had been built as a result of such people, “and well when you get told that you’re the best, that no one can stop you, that you’re untouchable, you truly begin to believe it,” he lets out a chuckle, “so when Brandon Star, a man who was nearly out of my weight class, began to provoke me for a fight on television after winning some match and I kept hearing from my so called friends that it’d be an easy match or that it was a guaranteed win, how could I say no? Of course at the time I didn’t know that they would be betting against me… so I said yes.”

A momentary silence fills the air as Jungkook had never told this whole story to anyone, the revealing of everything somewhat freeing for him, “A part of me knew I was way in over my head, it was like a gut feeling, you know? But I needed someone, anyone, to tell me the truth and to confirm what I was thinking. I needed someone who was going to criticize me instead of nodding their head yes and pretending that everything was going to be just fine. I think that’s why when I first met you, you reminded me so much of the people who were around me in the states, faking a smile in order to spare my feelings.” Sadness clouds his features, ashamed of how he took everything out on you when all you were doing was simply being the person you always were... kind. For that, he was truly sorry.

“Anyways,” he continues, “that night of the fight, the feeling I had in my stomach was overwhelming. I told my dad, who was helping prep me backstage like he always did, that I felt nervous. That I was scared,” his voice cracks and he closes his eyes, remembering the scene as if it was yesterday, “and my dad well...he’s always struggled with separating being a father and being a trainer,” Jungkook tries to contain the sob that’s begging to come out, “but at that moment I just needed my dad. I needed him to tell me that win or lose everything was going to be fine. That he’d be proud of me no matter what,” he finally cries, and as you’re about to pull him into another hug, he vigorously shakes his head, stopping you from doing so.

“No, I need to finish thi—”

“Jungkook,” you softly interrupt because it wasn’t that you didn’t want to hear anymore, you just weren’t sure if you could hear anymore without at some point sobbing yourself,  “you don’t need to, especially if you’re not ready,” you stare at him with a sad look on your face.

“No, you deserve to know,” he firmly states, “you deserve to know,” he quietly repeats to himself. You nod your head in understanding, waiting for him to continue as he wipes away his tears with the sleeve of his shirt, composing himself.

“He told me that I’d do just fine, that the son he’s trained so long for wouldn’t fail him now,” he mumbles, the words of his father still echoing in his mind, “When you go and box, you’re supposed to enter that ring with no concerns of the real world, you’re supposed to put any negative or anxious thoughts you had outside the ring to rest. Because the moment you let just one of those thoughts seep through, you might as well hang up your gloves right then and there,” his expression hardens, “I went into that ring knowing I was going to lose…”

“From there I don’t remember too much,” he bitterly lets out a laugh, “I just remember being on a gurney and feeling the heaviness of Star’s punches beginning to weigh down on my chest, clearly having done some damage to my ribs,” he sighs, “but the moment I remember so clearly is my parents trying to make their way to me, doing their best to push their way in an effort to see me. I don’t know if it was because I was just so mad at myself,” his voice shakes, “or because I confused the look of sadness on my dad’s face with disappointment, but at the time—“ his voice falters again, “At the time I thought how ashamed he must’ve been of me,” he fights through his tears, trudging through the story, “And so as I was being lifted into the truck, I kept yelling how this was his fault, that it weren’t for him I wouldn’t be in this position,” Jungkook lifts his head up, combing a hand through his hair.

“When I got to the hospital, I refused to let my parents see me, I was just too—“ God, did he sometimes wish he could go back in time and change everything, “I was too stubborn, too ashamed with myself to even look at them. So I ran,” he says, catching you by surprise, “I needed time alone so I ran,” he repeats, “I ran before they could find me, I just got up and ran,” there’s a haunting emptiness that lingers in his voice, one that brings chills down your spine.

“I called Hobi, and I told him that I needed to redeem a favor,” your mind flashes back to the night Hobi told you what he knew, “And I thought this is what I needed. That I’d be okay with starting anew, and that if I could firmly plant my feet in Seoul then I could visit my parents in Busan, and tell them how sorry I was without them having to worry too much about what the future would hold for me… and explain to them what happened, what I felt, and why I ran. That was my plan,” his voice cracks, “I was reaching a point in my life where I felt so content, so happy. I’d wake up to see you and Hobi making breakfast while imitating some random girl group dance and think to myself how things had managed to turn out so well for me despite my failure in the states. Or when we binged on One Piece episodes that whole night while stuffing our faces in tubed ice cream and I just felt like a little kid again without a worry in the world. But then …”  

Jungkook feels the heavy feeling in his chest grow, “He passed away,” and just like that Jungkook feels as if the air has come out of his lungs, the same way it did the night he found out.

You feel your heart break at his words, recognition dawning over your face as everything was beginning to make sense. “My mom had managed to find my number in order to tell me there’d been an accident, and I just couldn’t believe it at first,” he attempts to hide his grief by stifling a sob, “I didn’t want to get up from bed at first because getting up would mean facing reality, it’d mean accepting that it wasn’t some kind of twisted fucked up nightmare but that it was real. That the last sight my dad saw of me was on some gurney,” his face twists, “that the last words I ever said to him were so—“ he breaks down, sobbing once again and this time you feel your own hot salty tears fall from your eyes, wrapping in such a tight hug that you weren’t sure if it was for his or your own sake.

He cries a sound so raw that it was almost as if the wound was still freshly cut, his hand clasping tightly onto your clothing for support. Any last defensive wall he had up was washed away by his salty tears, finally facing the final waves of grief, loss, and devastation in the arms of the person he had taken everything out on. The person he didn’t deserve at all, but had stayed nonetheless. You whisper sweet comforting words to his ear, wanting more than his grief to subside so that you could see the smile you loved so much appear on his face again.

“I just wish there was something I could’ve done differently,” he shakes his head, “so that he could know just how much his son loved and appreciated him,” he lifts his head up from your shoulder, wiping his tears away, and practicing his breathing as his chest had been heaving so bad because of his sobs, “And so that was why I completely changed that June and became cold. That was why I got so mad when I saw you in my room with the broken trophy I had gotten when I was a kid because I was just so reminded of everything,” he frowns, “and it had hit me like a freaking truck. To see my current world and the past one collide was just—“ he pauses, “overwhelming to say the least,” he concludes everything and you’re left there completely speechless.

You could’ve never in your wildest dreams even guessed that this was why Jungkook had come back to Seoul and why he had acted so cold for so long. His grievances had happened in such a short period of time, that all it took was one wrong move to set him completely off. No wonder he had kept himself so isolated … he knew he was ticking time bomb waiting to finally explode at any given moment.

The two of you stare at each other in silence, his words processing in both of your minds. You want to say the words that are currently repeating themselves in your mind, I love you. Three simple words that could make him forget his past, even if it was for a small moment in time. “Jungkook—” he looks up at you, “I—” you stutter, the words clinging onto the tip of your tongue, “I um,” you feel your chest become heavy as he stares at you in curiosity, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” you force out instead. He furrows his eyebrows, ready to protest against your apology, but you’re quick to interrupt before he gets the chance to.

“Since you’re being so honest with me, I feel like it’s only right I’m honest with you,” you bite your lip, disappointed with your cowardice, “So that like that we get a better understanding of one another,” you feign a smile.

“There’s a reason why I got so um…” you pause, “anxious before and during the galleria,” you narrow your eyes, it was now your turn to open a book that’d long been left incomplete. “I told you right? That I was an art student at Busan’s Art college but that I ended up transferring after an incident occurred…” He quietly nods, allowing you to continue, “and well I think I’m ready to talk about it,” you let out a breathy chuckle.

He stares at you in silence, ready to listen as well. “Growing up, I really liked painting,” you laugh, recalling the memory of you painting on the walls as a kid, “for some reason it was something I found myself falling further in love with every calendar year, but my parents, well they were on the more skeptical side of making a career out of it. I mean I don’t really blame them,” you sound unsure, “I mean I know that it’s hard these days to find success in the world of arts, or at least the level of success most people want to obtain but originally for me it didn’t matter,” you chuckle, remembering how naive you had been.

“Before entering college, I’d sell my little paintings and merchandise on those small-business centric websites like Etsy and stuff,” you say for example, “and you’re right, when you get told that you’re good at something, you really begin to believe it…”

Jungkook wants to interrupt and tell you that whatever your situation was, was much more different than his. That you were actually good at what you did, no, you were amazing at it. He wasn’t sure if he could listen to you talk down on yourself, but nonetheless he continues to listen.

“My first year of college I met people like Jimin who were so passionate about what they do that it really cemented the idea I had in wanting to turn my water painting into a career,” you sigh, “but in the back of my mind I always did have tiny doubts that lingered, and I always made sure not to feed them too much, but when you’re surrounded by people who are just as talented or even better than you, it gets hard not to.”

Jungkook completely understands where you’re coming from, having been in a similar position himself before. “And it didn’t help that my parents were constantly breathing down my neck about finding a different career to focus on,” you shrug “anyways,” you continue, shaking your head, “In Busan’s Art College, like many other colleges there are departments, like STEM and Business for example, but in this case things are separated by like dance, art, film, et cetera. And well if you can’t tell I’m a bit of a … pushy … person,” you laugh and Jungkook softly smiles, neither agreeing or disagreeing, “I think it’s due to me always feeling a need to overcompensate my insecurities, I guess. Like when you first moved in, in order to reassure myself that you didn’t hate me, the pushy side of me came out,” you explain, and the same way you began to understand Jungkook as he was explaining his story, Jungkook was beginning to understand you as a person.

“Well back to the focal point, I was a part of a committee club for painters within the art department, thinking that if I took charge of something, it’d increase my chances in succeeding in my career once I graduated. But the thing is, is when you join those committees I guess you could say there’s like a hierarchy of some sort, a cliché come to life,” you try your best to keep the conversation as lighthearted as you can, wanting the energy in the air to become one that was positive, a reflection of just how much you two had grown, “and well during my second year we were all assigned a project for some city poster in which we’d present to the committee’s leader, Nari, and where she and a couple of others would then choose which one was going to be used. And let me tell you, this was a career making project. The people who were going to be at the unveiling were names like Ji Hye Yeom, Haegue Yang, and more,” you sigh knowing you were coming to the rough part of the story.

“Nari had specifically told us that we were to only use materials she had chosen for us, and limited us to certain color schemes that in my opinion were the ugliest schemes I’d ever seen,” you scoff, “So me being the pushy person I am, I went ahead and continued with my original plan, which was making a watercolor painting because at the end of the day if my painting did happen to get chosen, I wanted it to be a genuine work of mine, not something that was limited by someone who was no more superior than me all because of some flimsy title,” you softly shake your head, “And so I poured my heart into it, working on it every chance I got during that school year in order to make sure that the committee would be so amazed , they’d have no choice but to choose it even if it didn’t exactly follow Nari’s regulations.”

A feigned smile graces onto your lips, refusing to cry at a situation from years ago, “I was so nervous that day to present it, but I was also so excited. Excited because I knew I created a piece that was so beautiful I—,” for a quick second your voice falters, but you’re quick to catch yourself, “I was just so sure they’d choose it,” you whisper, voice sounding frail and defeated.

“That day I presented it, I thought the silence that filled the room was because they were amazed,” you close your eyes for a moment, trying your best to push back any tears that wanted to make their way out, “God I still remember the extra specks of white and gold I added to it the night before, thinking those extra touches were really going to tip the scale in my favor,” you mumble, the embarrassment you felt that day coming back.

Jungkook feels his jaw harden, at this point an automatic response to the thought of your feelings being hurt. He didn’t know why, but to see someone as kind as you act out of character whether it be because you were mad or sad, always caused a heavy feeling in his chest. The only thing you deserved to feel was happiness and comfort, and though he wasn’t sure it was something, he, himself, could guarantee you … he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try.

“After what felt like 20 minutes, of complete silence she slowly got up in front of everyone,” you blankly stare at the trees in front of you, “I remember my heart beating out of my freaking chest for some reason, and the sweat beginning to form at my palms. And the moment she started speaking, I just went blank—” you turn to face Jungkook, who had a worrisome look on his face, “She started to berate me in front of everyone, insulting my hard work and telling me that even despite me breaking her guidelines, the painting still wasn’t any good,” you gulp, “But in fact, her words didn’t bother me at all,” you pause, “it was the comments from my supposed peers that really twisted the knife for me,” you scoff, “and then she did the unthinkable...”

Jungkook feels the heavy weight in his chest drop because he knows what you’re about to say. He knows what that woman did. And he knows why you were so hurt when he destroyed your painting, “She grabbed the canvas from the display board, and she ripped it,” you say, managing to muster up the smallest of smiles, but Jungkook knows that it's nothing more than a facade. An illusion so that he could think that you were no longer hurt by the actions of that woman.

“Once she did that, it just triggered everything else that followed after,” you furrow your brows, refusing to look at Jungkook, “I was being laughed at while having a panic attack,” you scoff, “I felt like I was in a scene from a high school movie,” you attempt to mask your hurt by making a joke.

“I ended up running out of the building, feeling as if my heart was going to explode from how fast it was pounding, and the compression in my throat was almost unbearable,” your voice cracks, “in just 20 minutes she took away any confidence I had in my artistic abilities, In just 20 minutes she made me question everything I knew about myself,” a tear finally falls from your eye, speaking the words you’d never said out loud before into the world.

“I attempted to stay at the school for a couple more weeks after that, but every time I picked up a paint brush, I just kept hearing her words along with the rest of my peers’ as well, second guessing every stroke I made on canvas. I had lost my spark,” you stifle a sob, “After that, I decided to transfer out and follow the plans’ my parents had always set out for me… and well, you know the rest,” you laugh in between your tears, wondering just how pitiful you must’ve looked. But soon enough you feel Jungkook's arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into a hug so tight, you never wanted him to let go.

“Don’t leave,” you mumble into his chest.

Jungkook reassures you by cooing a small, “I won’t”, but gently you pull away once he does, holding onto his hand instead. A look of confusion washes over his face.

“No—” you shake your head, realizing he’s misunderstood, “I mean don’t leave our apartment,” you sniffle, giving him a small warm smile, leftover tears still brimming the corners of your eyes. His mouth gapes slightly open, taken back by your statement. He had completely forgotten that he was supposed to be moving out by Monday.

“We—” you shake your head, deciding that “we” wasn’t the right word in this case, “I need you,” you state, nothing but sincerity behind your words. Jungkook feels his heart skip a beat, the close-eyed soft smile that covers your face only making him smile in return.

He doesn’t need to say anything because you know … you know that he needs you just as much as you need him. You know that he’ll never leave your side from this day on because tonight was the start of a new chapter in your lives, one that included each other. Gently he pulls you into another hug, the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest being a feeling he could get used to.

“How did you even know where the venue was, or what the time the whole thing was?” you ask Jungkook, questions that hadn’t crossed your mind that day now forming.

“Hobi sent me a text that same night, very um … straightforward?” Jungkook chuckles, “It read, Art Exhibition. **** Namgang-Ro. 7:30 PM. Formal attire. You either go or you don’t. Up to you. Just don’t go crying later on that you regret not going. And well I had debated for several hours, originally chickening out and deciding to use me not having any formal suits as an excuse. That was until I walked into my room to find that Hobi had ironed one of his own for me to use,” Jungkook explains, “And well luckily I grew some balls and went and well now we’re here,” he smiles at you.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t cut off too much of the story. We still have to remember all the good that came afterward,” you giggle, and he only flashes you an even bigger smile.

“Ah you’re right, you’re right. How could I forget?”

October 2019. 

“Happy Halloween!” you and Jungkook wave to the kid dressed as Iron Man, glancing at the clock which currently read 10:00PM. Mm you’d give it one more hour before permanently closing your doors and calling it a day even if Jungkook protested for more time.

“Happy Halloween!” you and Jungkook wave to the kid dressed as Iron Man, glancing at the clock which currently read 10:00PM. Mm you’d give it one more hour before permanently closing your doors and calling it a day even if Jungkook protested for more time.

You see, tonight was Halloween, and for the first time since you and Hobi moved to your guys’  apartment, you were giving out candy to the little kids of your apartment complex who usually went floor to floor trick or treating and it was all thanks to Jungkook. You were surprised really, you would’ve never taken Jungkook as being someone who was such a kid at heart.

After weeks of begging, he’d finally managed to convince you and Hobi to not only dress, but distribute candy. Usually you and Hobi would turn off all the lights and ignore the knocks you’d receive on the door, choosing to have a movie night than to participate in Halloween festivities.

Realistically speaking, you sorta expected Jungkook to go out and party tonight which is why when he notified you weeks prior that all of you were going to be participating in giving out candy, you couldn’t find it in you to say no. Hobi on the other hand required a lot of convincing and though he wasn’t exactly helping with the distribution of candy, watching him dressed as Batman while lazily sitting on the couch with a glass of wine in his hand was a gift in its own.

Jungkook, who desperately wanted to be a male version of Harley Quinn, had made you help him with cinching his crop top, exposing his toned lower abdomen every time he even stretched the slightest bit. It was…. quite a site … even causing several moms with their kids to “accidentally” stumble on your apartment floor again after only being there 10 minutes prior, your own little green monster finally making its appearance ….

But besides that, your favorite part of his whole costume was definitely the face/eye makeup he had done. The smoky blue and red along with the fake tatted heart under his left eye truly acting as the selling point of his costume. It just made him look very hot, more than usual. Hobi had even caught you staring at the boy on several occasions, teasingly nudging you whenever he did.

With Hobi dressed as Batman and Jungkook dressed as Harley Quinn, that of course only left you, who was currently dressed as none other than a female version of the Joker from Suicide Squad because despite how shitty the movie was, the style in which they made the Joker was still indeed very cool. Jungkook had even lent you his own natural artistic abilities to draw the tattoos where your dominant hand couldn’t firmly paint, laughing at the “twinsies” jokes you made in reference to his own tattoos. It had even given you the opportunity to ask him what each one of his own real tattoos meant to him.

Most of his tattoos, he explained, were done out of impulse. A majority of them being done in the states on a complete whim, but a couple of them held significant meaning to him. For example, his tattoo of a bandaged hand clearly represented his history with boxing. He explained that rather than get the overused boxing gloves as a tattoo, he’d get a simple bandaged hand done, deciding that it looked cooler and that you agreed with. Another example was the tattoo that translated to “Life Goes On” which was pretty self-explanatory, but meaningful nonetheless. Jungkook explained that it was one his favorite mottos growing up, and well recently it seemed to weave perfectly into his life.

But your favorite tattoo? The small One Piece manga strip he had across his left forearm. The story behind it almost caused you to shed a tear, had it not been for your white powdered makeup, you probably would've cried. You see, when Jungkook was a young boy he’d always watch One Piece as a distraction from boxing, falling in love with the story and its characters.

His dad, who’d always scold him whenever he caught him late at night watching the anime, never understood why Jungkook liked the show so much. It wasn’t until one night he somehow managed to convince his dad to watch the episode he was on, and despite not knowing anything about what was going on nor the characters’ names, his dad ended up loving the show just as much as him. The show had acted as a new bond between the two, from buying the latest manga volumes to staying up late at night to watch the newest episode. And well the strip on Jungkook’s arm was from the exact episode he had managed to convince his dad to watch with him that night. The tattoo serves as a representation of a memory he holds dearest to him, a memory of his dad.

“Ah I think that’s the last of it,” Jungkook looks into the last bag of candy he had bought, absolutely nothing left inside, “Wasn’t this fu—”

“Let’s go get a tattoo,” you interrupt, the idea coming to you out of nowhere. Jungkook tilts his head in confusion, eyebrows furrowing. A tattoo? You? Ms. I do not even have a dot of ink on my skin?

“A tattoo!?” Hobi turns from the TV, now having got his attention.

Both men stare at you in silence, thinking this was all some big joke until you begin to nod, reaffirming your choice, “Yes! All three of us! Matching roommate tattoos,” you smile, not exactly sure what had gotten into you, but surprisingly... completely okay with it.

Jungkook, noticing just how serious you were about this, begins to feel a smile form on his face. It wasn’t like he minded, he just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to regret it the next morning, “Y/N, you sure you one? I mean … you’re not someone I picture getting a tattoo, I mean think of your job,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, think of your job!” Hobi butts in, clearly not in favor of getting a tattoo.

Vigorously, you nod your head, “I’m one hundred percent sure,” you laugh, “I promise you, I won’t regret it,” you stick out your pinky finger, and Jungkook is quick to hug it with his own.

“W-What the?” Hobi stutters, unsure if it was the alcohol or shock in his system causing it. Probably both.

You turn to Hobi, “If you really don’t want it, then you don’t have to get it,” you shrug, “But at least come with us,” you smile, hoping that once you were there at the parlor shop you’d be able to convince him.

Sitting on the leather stool with your forearm displayed, the tattooist begins to prep your skin placing rubbing alcohol on the area in which you had chosen to get your tattoo. Now that you are here, you couldn’t lie, you were a bit nervous. But mostly because you were skeptical of the pain the needle would give you. 

Jungkook had described it as “a cat repeatedly scratching a sunburn”... as if you were supposed to know what that means. He also said that depending on your pain tolerance you’d either like the feeling, get used to it, or absolutely hate it. It just varied from person to person as well as the placement where you were choosing to get it.

Supposedly the inner wrist didn’t hurt, but with the sudden stinging sensation you were feeling, you were a bit unsure of that now.

“So is that your boyfriend out there?” the woman tattooing you suddenly asks, catching you completely by surprise. If she didn’t have a pricking needle against your skin , you probably would’ve jumped at the accusation.

Trying your best to keep your cool, you respond, “Oh um—” you shake your head, “No,” you awkwardly laugh, “I wish”, you think to yourself.

“Hmm,” she hums, the same smirk Jimin once gave you appearing on her face, “Sorta seemed like it out there, I mean I’m sure if he had the option he would’ve chosen to sit here right next to you and hold your hand,” she teases, and a blush appears on your cheeks.

“Oh that’s just how he is with everyone,” you reason, not wanting to feed into the delusions that Jungkook could possibly return any feelings for you, “He’s a very protective person, sometimes a little too much, but it has its benefits,” you joke around.

She shrugs, continuing to work on the small tattoo, “”Mm I don’t know, I mean the way with the way he looks at youuuu,” she sings, “because you clearly like him,” she laughs.

“No I don’t!” you pout, “We’re just close friends, that’s all….”

“Close friends don’t look at each other like that, and they’re certainly not as touchy as you two are,” she says, only causing you to scoff.

“You don’t know what you’re ta—”

“All done!” she smiles, wiping over the fresh new ink on your skin one last time, “Look how easy it was for me to get you to stop wincing so much,” she winks at you, and suddenly everything begins to make sense. She was trying to get you to relax. Was the topic she chose really the best one? No. But it worked didn’t it?

She places the plastic wrap over it, “So what do you think?” you stare at the new permanent piece of work on your skin, a small smile gracing your lips.

“Ah I—”

“Love it so much!” you flash Jungkook the two-month old ink on your skin, the digital numbers “00:00” acting as a permanent reminder of the day all three of you officially became roommates. It was small, yes, but to you it meant so much.

Jungkook pulls his own sleeve, showing you his own matching ink, “Zero o’ clock,” he hums, recalling a song he heard not too long ago on the radio.

“Ah too bad we couldn’t convince Hobi to get one,” you sigh, remembering how firm he was that night, “but we’ll get him next time,” you laugh.

Jungkook quirks his brow, “Next time?”

You nod your head, “I can see why people get addicted to these things,” you joke, “they’re like their own pieces of art,” you smile.

“Design mine next time,” he suddenly says, his statement coming off more as a command than a question. Turning to face him, you look for any small sign that he was joking.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope,” he pops the ‘p’, “I think a watercolor style painting would look amazing rightttt,” he points to the side of his ribcage, “here.”

Eyes widening in shock, you’re in complete disbelief, “You—you’re crazy!” you laugh, refusing to take him seriously.

“Ah I’m being serious Y/N,” he pouts, “Come on you know you want toooo,” he sings, softly nudging you.

You stare at him for a moment, “Are you sure?” you ask, skeptical about his seriousness.

He nods, “As sure as you were about getting that tattoo that night,” he teases, and you only roll your eyes in return.

“Mmm,” you hum, “I’ll think about it.”

“Think?! I’m your roommate!” he dramatically complains, throwing his head against your shoulder, suddenly in a clingy mood. Maybe the tattooist was right… maybe you two were a little too touchy….

You mean, just last month during friendsgiving, Hobi just had to complain in front of everyone claiming, “If you two don’t get your own room—”

“Then I think at some point this turkey is going to come back alive just to tell you two himself,” he slurs his words, wine glass in hand.

Drunk Yoongi tags in, “How do you know it’s a he?” he squints his eyes, gearing up for a debate.

Hobi rolls his eyes and makes a dismissive motion with his hand, “Not now Yoongi,” he says, causing everyone sitting at the table to laugh, and he turns his attention back to you and Jungkook, currently sitting next to each other, “Are you two going to continue playing footsies or are you finally going to—”

Seokjin interrupts by awkwardly coughing and tapping his champagne glass with his fork, getting up from his seat in the process, “I think it’s the perfect time to do our annual “What am I thankful for” toast, so I’ll begin,” he laughs, all eyes on him, “So um this year I am thankful for all of my friends who continuously stick by side throughout the years, and for the wonderful woman I’ve grown to love more and more every day,” he warmly smiles at his girlfriend, the two already seeming like a married couple despite having only met this year. Seokjin turns his attention to Yoongi, signalling that it was his turn.

He groans before getting up, peeved as to why Seokjin always insisted on doing these things, “Okay okay—”

“This is gonna take a while,” you whisper to Jungkook, Yoongi’s speech now fading into the background.

Jungkook quietly chuckles in response, “You think? How long do you think it’ll take before he starts with his  “back in my day” speech?” he jokes around.

Suddenly Yoongi’s voice becomes more audible, “Back in my day we didn’t use—”

You and Jungkook snortle a laugh, “Not long,” you respond, the two of you trying your best to keep your snickering at a low.

“So … got anything prepared?” he asks, this being his first year and all doing this kind of thing, he was a bit nervous as to what to say.

You shake your head, “Mm no, you just sorta say what’s on your mind? I guess?” you awkwardly laugh, “Trust me, as long as they have their bottles of soju next to them, whatever you say will go in one ear and out the other,” you reassure, remembering the first year you did this and gave a heartwarming speech, just for it to be ignored because Namjoon could’ve sworn he’d seen the “turkey move”. From there it led to an hour debate on whether a dead freaking turkey could still possibly be alive after having it in the oven for several hours.

He nods his head, noting what you’ve said.

After going around it was now the last toast of the night,“Ah and lastly onto our newest member in this friend group,” Namjoon, who had just finished his own speech, turns to Jungkook and pats his shoulder, “take it away,” he gives him a dimpled smile before sitting back in his seat.  

Jungkook awkwardly blinks at him for a moment, not getting up until you nudge him to do so. “Oh yeah…” he forces a laugh, “Um so where do I begin,” you almost feel second hand embarrassment, if you thought you weren’t any good under pressure, Jungkook might take the crown.

“So… The first thing I want to say I’m thankful for are the new friends I’ve made since coming to Seoul,” he spares a glance to the boys, “um..” he bites his lip, “The second thing or person may I say, that I want to thank is Hobi…” he smiles at the drunk man, “well for giving me a second chance per say,” he chuckles, “I know I don’t say it often, but I’m truly grateful for you picking up my call that night,” Hobi gives a small warm smile, “And well the last person I want really want to mention that I’m thankful for is … you,” Jungkook suddenly turns his attention down to you, catching you by surprise.

Raising your eyebrows, you wonder where this is coming from, “I um—” he feighs a small laugh, “I know I wasn’t exactly the nicest person when I first moved in, but—” he exhales a breath, “But you gave continuously gave me a chance to prove otherwise every single time until I finally got it right,” he smiles, “and well last year I had a pretty rough year,” he jokes around, “and honestly I thought coming in 2019 it’d be just bad, but you single handedly proved me wrong and made sure this was going to be a year for me to remember and well for that I’m forever grateful,” you silently blink away any tears, not wanting to get teased at for crying after this his speech was done. He breaks away the gaze he held on you in order to finish his speech off, “So with that I say … cheers everyone!”

Everyone raises their glasses of whatever it was they chose to drink, clinking it all in the middle and repeating “Cheers!” before gulping down whatever was left of their drinks. The rest of the night is filled with nothing but laughs and joy, as well as the remainder of the month, every single day creating a new memory for the three of you, until you were left with nothing but...

“The present day,” you whisper to yourself, unable to believe that the year had gone by so fast.

“What a year it’s been huh…” Jungkook softly smiles, glancing at the time on his phone which reads 11:50. 10 more minutes until the new year. 10 more minutes until zero’o clock.

“Yeah…” a comfortable silence fills the air around you, how had the hour gone by in the blink of an eye? You wonder if it’s the effect Jungkook just naturally has on people because never did you find time going by so fast unless you were with him.

“I—”

“So—”

Your cheeks become a tinge of pink , “Oh you go first—” he shakes his head.

“No, no, go ahead,” he laughs, insisting that you go instead.

This was the perfect chance, the chance to tell him about the feelings you’d grown to have for him in the past year. You just needed to grow the courage to say those three letter words that were itching to be said. It was either now or never.  

“I um, I just wanted to say thank you,” you chicken out once again, “I didn’t get the chance to say it on friendsgiving, but,” you gulp, “your speech it um meant a lot to me, and well I’m just as grateful for you,” you chuckle, “I think maybe even more.”

Had you noticed, you would’ve seen the slightly disappointed look on Jungkook’s face, “Oh..” he says, a small pout appearing on his face.

“What were you going to say?” you ask, faking the pep in your voice, ready to eternally scold yourself for being a chicken once you got back to the cabin.

He sighs, “It’s nothing really,” he shrugs, but you nudge his shoulder before he could divert the conversation elsewhere.

“Come on, just say it,” you tease, “because you either speak now or forever hold your piece,” you look at the time, “5 minutes till midnight.”

He stays silent for a moment, contemplating whether or not he should say what had been on his mind for quite some time, “I um—” fuck it, it was either now or never, “You know how I told you that I couldn’t sleep right? That it’s why I came out here…” you innocently nod your head as he continues, “well it’s cause I had already sorta been thinking about everything that’s happened this year…” he lets out a small chuckle.

“I mean isn’t it crazy?” he pushes his hair back with his hand, “Someone who was nothing more than a stranger before the clock hit twelve that night is now someone I can’t picture not being in my life,” you feel your heart flutter at his words, “And I mean to think we didn’t get along at first,” he lets out a breath of disbelief, “All because I was a person who was—” he pauses, unsure of how to describe himself from that time, “angry,” he decides to say, “I was an angry person who mad at the world,” he bites his lip in retribution for his attitude back then.

“No,” you laugh, shaking your head, “you were just someone who was… hurt. That’s all it was,” you say.

“You think?” you nod your head yes, “I never really thought about it like that,” he mumbles, “Would you do it all over again?” he suddenly asks, and you find yourself quirking your brow at his question, “Like if you had the chance would you do it all over again…” he further explains.

Without a second thought you say, “Yeah I would,” you giggle, “And you?”

He remains silent for a moment, pondering on his own question before nodding his head as well, “I wouldn’t mind doing it all over again because then I’d get to relive the process of falling in love with you all over again,” he finally says, “I’d get to pinpoint the exact moment this year that I fell in love with you.”

“In ten, nine, eight…” the families around you begin to shout the countdown, and all you can do is stare at Jungkook in disbelief of what you just heard come out of his mouth.

“Y-You love me?” you manage to stutter out, a smile now forming on your lips.

“Seven, six, five…..”

Silently, he nods his head, a loving smile on his face as he leans towards you, the flutter in your stomach only intensifying.

“Four, three, two, one….”

And as if time had stopped, his lips finally meet yours and the only thing you could feel were the placement of warm lips against yours, giving you a New Year’s kiss that would be remembered for years to come.

“Happy New Year!” the sound of fireworks popping are echoed in the background because the only thing you could focus on were the soft lips that were moving with yours. His fingers curl around yours, creating such an intimacy that you were sure you had to be dreaming. It wasn’t until you found yourself kissing him back that the reality of everything finally set in. Jungkook loved you.

Slowly he pulls away, savoring the kiss till its very last moment, “Happy New Years Y/N,” he whispers, a grin plastered on his face.

Laughing in return, you smile, “Happy New Years Jungkook.”

**

Once you and Jungkook returned to the cabin, you were met with several complaints from Hobi, “Finally! We’ve been freezing all night!” Hobi exclaimed the moment you two walked in, harshly grabbing the firewood from Jungkook’s hands. It wasn’t until he peeped your linked arms that everything began to make sense, “Ahhh,” he gives you two a toothy grin, “You guys, look who’ve finally confessed to one another,” he yells, catching the attention of everyone in the living room.

Suddenly the room is filled with several “finally’s” causing both of your mouths to slightly agape open. “What do you mean “finally” ?” you furrow your eyebrows, looking at Hobi for an explanation.

He scoffs, “Don’t act dense you two!” he laughs, “It was so obvious you two liked one another, you two were just too blind to see it yourselves,” he scolds both you and Jungkook by flicking your foreheads, “You just didn’t have to go confessing while all of us were freezing in here!”

Both you and Jungkook awkwardly laugh, a guilty look on one another’s face. “Well choo you two before I make you two clean everything up and babysit our friends!” Hobi makes a motion with his hands, and the two of you are quick to make your way upstairs into Jungkook’s room. Thankful that he didn’t punish the two of you.

Jungkook is quick to take off his puffy jacket, plopping himself onto the bed like a little kid, a loud breathy sigh following after. You stare at him for a moment, unsure of what to do, that is until you see him open his arms wide with a pout appearing on his face, “Come onnn,” he sings, “Let’s cuddle,” he shoots you a smile.

Playfully you roll your eyes before taking off your own jacket, plopping onto the spot next to him. Small feverish giggles escape your lips once he begins to give you tiny kisses all over, enveloping you in a hug so tight, it would’ve been impossible to ever doubt his feelings for you.

“Jungkook stop,” you laugh, the tickles he was now giving you making the sides of your stomach hurt, “Jung—” you attempt to push his hand away, face becoming red at just how much you were laughing, his own high-pitched laugh echoing across the walls of the room with you. From there he does a mixture of both tickling and kissing you, the two of you truly in your own world.

Soon though, your little game of tickles becomes a full on makeout session, not that you were complaining. Currently you lay under him with Jungkook leaning against you, using his arm that rested on the bed as support.

Slowly he slips his tongue into your mouth, gentle but demanding, nothing less than pure love behind the kiss. “Jungkooook,” you quietly whine once he begins to move onto your neck, every suckle lasting a little longer than the last. His hand interlocks with yours as he continues, you’re hand subconsciously playing with his hair from behind, making small twirls with the brown wavy locks of hair.

“I love youuu,” he cooes, a certain gleam to his eyes. Soon enough, his fingers were teasingly playing with the waistband of your leggings. And God, were you dripping. “Can I?” he innocently looks at you, licking his lips in the process. You’d be crazy to say no.

Nodding your head yes, he nudges your legs apart and begins to pull off the cotton fabric from your legs. You help him along the way, desperate to receive your own pleasure.

Teasingly, he swipes his index finger over the fabric of your underwear, continuing to pepper you with warm kisses on the underside of your jaw. The grip you had on his hair became tighter with every swipe, “Aren’t you wet?” he slyly chuckles, rubbing small circles with his placed finger.

“Stop teasing,” you whine, only causing him to muffle a laugh against your shoulder.

“I just wanna take my timeeeee,” he hums, placing a kiss to your cheek, “Can I take my time?” he pouts, only causing you to roll your eyes, agreeing nonetheless, “That’s my girl,” he whispers, pecking you on the lips before continuing, cupping your cheek with his … unoccupied … hand.

“God you’re beautiful,” he says staring at your pleasured expression, a result of the friction between his finger and your underwear becoming more intense.

“Jungkook,” your voice shakes, wanting needing him to do something before the muscles in your leg spasm any more.

“Shh shh not too loud,” he softly mumbles, because considering how drunk the boys’ were, any loud noise and you’d have someone idiotically stumbling into the room in order to find out whatever the noise was. Not wanting you to complain any more, he slips his finger under your underwear, pressing both his middle and index finger to the centerfold of your sex, “Look how wet you are,” he smirks, coaxing another moan from your lips.

Jungkook couldn’t lie, he’d envisioned this moment a couple of times before, but to have it becoming a reality was completely different than what he imagined. It was indeed better.

“I bet you’d love for me to take these off,” he teasingly pretends to pull down your panties, knowing exactly what he was doing.

“Please Jungkook,” you cry, how was it possible to already be on the verge of releasing when he hadn’t even done anything explicit yet? He begins to move his fingers up and down your clit, coating his fingers with your wetness, preparing to insert his fingers in your aching hole, “Please—” you attempt to whimper his name again, but his lips passionately kiss you before you get the chance to. It’s once he does that, that the energy in the room shifts, becoming one of playful teasingness to one of passion and love. It’s while he kisses you that he finally sinks his single finger into your pussy, your wetness helping him in gradually picking up the pace until soon enough he’s able to slip in another. Your moan being suppressed by the pressing of his lips against yours, softly nibbling on your lower lip.  

“So fucking tight,” he mutters, the squelching sounds coming from your pussy bringing him a sense of pleasure, “Can’t wait to make love to you,” he whispers watching as your eyes lazily roll back, the sight being one he’d remember for a very long time.

“J—Just like that Jungkook,” you manage to stutter out, your arousal dripping in and out of your pussy as he continues with his motions. By now you feel his hardened member kneading against panties, his self-restraint holding on by a string. God, did he wanna fuck your brains out already. Had you been some kind of one night stand and he probably would already be doing so, but you, well you were different. You were his. And he was going to make sure you knew it to.

With his other hand he begins to slide his way under your shirt, caressing your breasts while fingering you, “Take off the shirt,” he mumbles while planting kisses on your neck, and you’re quick to obey, pulling the shirt over your head and uncaringly throwing it onto the floor.

By now you were dressed in only your underwear and bra, which to you seemed a bit unfair and so purposely you begin to play with the hem of his shirt, in hopes that he’d get the message. When he doesn’t, you momentarily stop him from kissing you any further, mumbling a tiny, “Mm take off your shirt,” causing him to let out a breathy laugh. He does as told, exposing the toned torso you’d find yourself frequently gawking over for in the past year. Because truly, his body proportions were insane.

Gently pulling him from his hair, you deepen the kiss by running your other hand across his bare back, the warm skin to skin touch providing another level of intimacy. “Let me eat you out,” he murmurs against your lips, waiting for a simple three letter word so that he can finally pull off your panties.

Instead you give him a small “MmHm,” with a small nod which in this case would suffice as he was sure you were too lost in your own world of pleasure to properly respond. Delicately he removes your underwear, parting your legs in between before lowering his head.

Without saying a word, he runs his finger against your slit, licking and sucking on the fluid that dripped from his finger. What. A. Fucking. Tease. “Jungkooook,” you whine like a brat, the heat you felt below almost unbearable at this point.

“What a pretty pussy,” he rasps, gives your clit a gentle kiss before suckling against it, his saliva mixing with your fluids. Immediately you feel a wave of pure bliss, your fingers slightly trembling at just how good the sudden sensation felt.

“Oh God Jungkook,” you needily whisper once he slips his finger back inside, pushing it deep into your core all while eating you out. Your breathy moans along with the sound of your wet pussy being toyed around with, fill the room. With your eyes half-open, you manage to look down at the sight of Jungkook licking through your folds, his messy hair covering most of his face until you use your hand to push it back, wanting to savor the view in front of you.

“Just look at you,” he groans, admiring the view of your back arched along with your thighs which slightly quivered at the flicks of his tongue, “All fucking mine, you got that?” he asks.

When you don’t respond, he inserts a second finger, catching your attention.

“Yes!” you cry at the sudden jolt of pleasure, his fingers scissoring inside of you, “I’m all yours,” you answer and to that he smirks, curling his fingers inside you. His ego at a level unthinkable. From there he continues to suck and slurp any remnants of your wetness, ignoring your warnings that you were about to orgasm.

It isn’t until he feels a quick rougher than usual tug to the hair followed with a gentle release that he knows you’ve came. Only then does he stop, quickly making his way to sweetly kiss you as you ride through your orgasm. You barely manage to kiss him back, too overwhelmed by orgasm he just brought down on you.

He cups your face once again, making out with you once again even if you were lazily kissing him back, “Jungkook,” you croak out, “Make love to me,” you dazedly whisper, recalling his words from earlier, and without a single word he begins to kiss you again, this time even more passionately (if that was possible) your words triggering a certain fire within him. And despite being in a post-orgasm state, you kiss him with just as much passion as he is doing to you.

By now the two of your hands’ were entangled with each others’ hair, Jungkook roughly pressing his clothed erection against the barity of your pussy. Releasing one of his hands from his hair, he smoothly travels down your back, removing the clasp of your bra with his hand. Deciding not to question his skills, you help further remove it until you’re only left completely nude. Your tits now on full display for him.  

He soon begins to tenderly suck on your hardened nipples, one hand caressing the opposing tit whenever he was sucking on one, providing equal attention to both. You begin to play with the button of his black pants, desperately ready to have Jungkook completely inside you. Jungkook notices your lack of patience, deciding that just this time he’d give you what you want.

Pushing himself off you, he begins to unbutton his pants, your heart now beating out of excitement once you see the band of his black boxers. This was really happening. And though you’d seen Jungkook’s cock before, specifically with a woman having it wrapped inside her mouth, to see it this time around was definitely much more shocking than the first…. Was he always this big? The veins that run along his fair-colored cock only add to it’s intimidating appearance.

Pushing himself back on you, he sloppily kisses you all over, from your mouth to the side of your neck, slowly making his way downard. His cock teases the slit of your entrance, coaxing along the delicate folds of your pussy. Intertwining his hand with yours, he looks at you one last time, “You ready?” he breathes out.

Biting your lip, you slowly nod your head yes, his head then slowly pushing into your tight entrance, a groan coming from both of your lips, “God I fucking love you,” he breathily moans beside your ear.

“I love you too,” you whisper in return, his gaze never leaving yours as his cock tortuously enters you inch by inch, the grip you have on his hand tightening with every passing second, “Oh my god,” you whimper, his pre-cum along with your prior wetness making the push inside more bearable.  

It isn’t until you’re completely filled up by his cock that he slowly begins to move. Each and every deep thrust garnerning both whines and mewls from you, “Fuck,” he moans, his voice raspy from pleasurable sensation he was feeling. Somehow he manages to continue to plaster kisses all over you, his hands tightly wrapped around your waist as he continues to grind his hips against yours, making nothing but love to you.

Your hot walls now take him with ease, the small pressure you had originally felt having slowly faded away. He keeps his thrusts at a moderate pace, wanting to savor the moment.

“J—Jungkook,” you cry out, feeling your second orgasm coming as you wrap your legs around his waist. He begins to pick up his pace, “Faster,” you moan, remembering that he was definitely okay with having rough sex, considering how many times you’d have to hear other woman moan just how harder they wanted back in the beginning of last year. Who said he couldn’t do the same for you?

“Faster?” he questions, a certain spark now in his eye, “You sure?” eagerly you nod your head yes, too lost in the idea of your possible orgasm to think of the repercussions of your answer. Because soon you find yourself getting completely fucked out, the pace of his thrust becoming almost uncomparable to the pace he was going before, this time not caring at all for rhythm. By now you're sure that your different number of cries and moans could be heard from downstairs, but honestly you could give less of a fuck.

The sound of your skin slapping with his echo against the wooden walls, your eyes screwing shut as you felt your high come. His rapid thrust continuing as he fucks you into oblivion, “Just look at you, creaming on my fucking cock,” he groans, by now sweat was forming on the creases of his forehead, “and to think I get to have you like this all to myself, every single day,” he chuckles, the tight feeling in his abdomen signalling to him that his own release was coming.

“Cum in me Jungkook,” you whine, and with that he does, his white milky cum coating your walls from the inside and out. He admires the view in front of him, the sight of you completely fucked out with his cum dripping from the entrance of your pussy, wondering how he got so lucky.

Out of breath, the two of you cuddle with one another, your eyes half closed, ready to knock out at any moment. But before you do, Jungkook peppers one last kiss onto your cheek, mumbling a final “I love you,” ready for the new memories this year would bring for the two of you.

a/n : ahhhhhh! finally finished with my finals so i was able to finally get this done! for some reason i sorta got attached to this couple, i think it’s because we got to see literally every month of their forming relationship so i just ended up really loving the dynamic between the two lmao. butttt all stories must come to an end :( and i’m very happy with how this story came out, but who knows maybe we’ll this couple again in the future. anywayssss like, reblog, comment, message me an anon or even directly! anything is appreciated (I swear im not a mean person) and ill see yall next time! 💞 

mini taglist: @ggukkieland​ @unicornbabylover​ 

[flowercrown-bard]

I saw @little-piece-of-tamlin‘s a tiny stupid geraskier doodle which I love with all my heart bc it’s so cute and got inspired to write a little something. I hope that’s ok

fandom: the witcher

Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

Modern Au

Word count: 2k

“It’ll rain today,“ Vesemir had said, “You better take a raincoat.”

Geralt should have known better than to ignore his advice. But in his defence, the sky had been completely clear when he had left the house with Ciri to take her to her friend Dara’s house.

The whole way there, she had chattered excitedly, tugging on his hand to get him to walk faster. The only time she had stopped, had been when they had come across a busker standing at the corner of a street.

Suddenly, she hadn’t been that worried about hurrying anymore and she had refused to leave until they had listened to at least five songs.

“You have to give him money, dad!” she demanded and pointed at the empty guitar case that was propped open in front of the busker.

Geralt made a grimace. He didn’t have his wallet with him – why would he, when he was just supposed to walk Ciri over to her friend and go home straight away again – but there was no doubt Ciri would argue with he told her so. And he supposed, he should probably be a good role model to her by paying the street artist, even though Geralt couldn’t help but think that his too bright smile and too happy songs were obnoxious.

The sooner he gave him some money, the sooner, he would get Ciri to continue on their way. So Geralt rummaged through his pockets, thankfully coming up with some spare change that he had forgotten was even in there and tossed it to the busker.

The pathetically few coins he had tossed were the only ones in the case. The sight almost made Geralt feel bad for the busker.

The busker’s singing didn’t stop, but his face brightened and his impossibly blue eyes lit up when he nodded to Geralt in thanks.

Geralt’s mouth went dry and he was glad that Ciri was still holding his hand, for suddenly, he didn’t know what to do with his hands.

He turned away briskly.

“Come on, Ciri, we should get going.” He gave her hand a small squeeze. “Dara’s probably waiting already.”

She pouted, but nodded. Before she turned away, she waved at the busker, who gave her a brilliant smile.

Geralt would have forgotten all about the busker, if it hadn’t started raining just as they got to Dara’s house. What started off as a light drizzle quickly turned into a downpour.

Geralt cursed silently. He didn’t even have his phone with him to call one of his brothers to come pick him up. At least Ciri had gotten inside before the worst of the rain had started.

Geralt threw a glare at the sky that had somehow turned from being bright blue to being a dark grey.

A low thunder rumbled and Geralt hurried along to get back home as quickly as he could, even though he was already soaked to the bone.

His face was set in a grim frown the entire time and he kept his eyes on the pavement before him, watching as the puddles soaked his boots.

“Hey!”

The shout made Geralt’s head snap up. His eyebrows rose in surprise without his permission, when he saw the person that had called out to him and that was now waving at him enthusiastically.

It was the busker from before, sitting beneath one of those umbrellas some cafés put up when the sun was shining too brightly.

Maybe they had forgotten to close it when the rain had started – or they didn’t care. Geralt had no idea how those things worked.

His steps faltered. Quickly, he threw a glance over his shoulder to see if the busker was waving to someone else, but Geralt was the only one on this street. At least the only one still out and about in the rain. Everyone else had fled into cafés or stores to hide from the rain.

Geralt swallowed, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, unsure what to do. He really, truly didn’t want to sit with this stranger who was still waving at him like an idiot.

But then again, the busker was sitting where he was dry while Geralt was standing in the rain unable to decide what to do, so really, who was the real idiot here?

Though inwardly he let out a sigh, knowing he was going to regret this, he walked over to the busker, sitting down on the chair opposite of him.

“Hello there, stranger. I’m Jaskier. You saw me earlier? I was the one playing the guitar.” He gestured to the case he had stowed away beneath the table to keep it safe from the rain. “I was hoping to see you again to thank you properly.” Jaskier’s smile grew so big, Geralt was wondering how it didn’t hurt his cheeks. “Guess I got really lucky that it started to rain, huh?”

Geralt scowled. “If my daughter hadn’t wanted to listen to you play for so long I would have gotten home before it started to rain.”

The busker tilted his head to the side. “Oh, if you enjoyed my singing that much, I should probably play some more, hm? As an apology for letting you get caught in the rain.”

“You really don’t –“ Geralt began, but Jaskier had already bent down to retrieve his guitar.

For a brief second, Geralt was tempted to just get up and leave again. A single glance at the rain made him reconsider and slump back in his chair.

When Jaskier began playing, Geralt had to admit that it didn’t sound terrible. If he had been in a better mood, he would have even enjoyed it, but as it was, he wasn’t very inclined to think any positive thoughts about Jaskier. It didn’t matter that his eyes crinkled at the side when he smiled while singing or that the mob of brown hair that had been so fluffy before was no plastered to his forehead in a way that made Geralt want to reach out and push it out of his eyes.

Abruptly, Geralt turned away. The avoidance of eye contact didn’t last very long. As soon as Jaskier reached the chorus of the song, Geralt’s eyes snapped back up to him.

“Why does it always rain on me?” Geralt asked incredulously. “Seriously?”

Jaskier’s tongue peeked through his lips as he winked at Geralt. “It’s fitting, isn’t it?”

Geralt grunted.

Jaskier’s fingers stilled on his guitar and he let out an overly dramatic sigh. “You’re a tougher audience than your daughter.” His eyes lit up with mischief. “But I’m sure I can find some song that you like.”

“I doubt it.”

“It that a challenge?”

Geralt didn’t answer, but he doubted Jaskier needed one anyway. The busker began to play again, giving Geralt a cheeky wink and his smile grew wider with every song that deepened Geralt’s frown.

It’s raining men.

Fool in the rain.

Raindrops keep falling on my head.

Umbrella.

Blame it on the rain.

After the third song, Geralt was ready to bang his head on the table and block his ears with his hands.

Mercifully, he was saved, when a waitress came by.

“Excuse me,” she said, looking sorry. “The other patrons have complained about your playing. And we’re not really allowed to let anyone sit here unless they buy at least one drink. So I need you to put that guitar away and buy something if you want to stay here.”

“Oh.” Jaskier’s face fell and the fingers that had just been plucking the strings rubbed together in a gesture that should have probably been soothing for himself. “Of course. Sorry.”

Carefully, he put his guitar away and grabbed the menu lying on the table. Geralt should have been relieved that the playing had stopped, but the sight of Jaskier, dejected and still dripping from the rain made something in his chest twist. He pressed his lips together.

“Sorry,” he said as well and pushed his chair back, making it scratch against the ground. His skin felt icy just thinking about going back out in the rain and a small part of him felt bad leaving Jaskier alone like this. Granted, Geralt hadn’t been thinking nice things about his singing either, but it was one thing to sit there suffering in silence and another thing entirely, asking a waitress to kick Jaskier out if he didn’t stop playing.

An alarmed expression flickered over Jaskier’s face and he grabbed Geralt’s sleeve when he made to turn away.

“Where are you going?” he asked. “Didn’t you hear the thunder before? You can’t just go out there.”

Geralt shrugged, telling himself the concern of this stranger didn’t feel nice.

“Don’t have any money.”

Something shifted in Jaskier’s expression. A look of utter disbelieve and almost awe crossed his face, before he plastered on a smile that definitely didn’t made Geralt’s chest clench.

“Don’t worry, my friend,” Jaskier said lightly, tugging at his arm until he sat back down again. Geralt could have easily freed himself, but for some reason he didn’t understand, he did as Jaskier bid him. “I’ll pay for your coffee.”

Geralt stared at him. “Why would you do that?”

Jaskier shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Technically, I’m just paying you back. You did give me your money before.”

Geralt blinked. “That wasn’t nearly enough to pay for coffee.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Jaskier lowered his eyes and drummed a quick little rhythm on the table. “It was nice. I could really need someone being nice to me today.”

Jaskier gave him a small smile, which Geralt returned without thinking about it. It wasn’t often that people looked at him and didn’t make assumptions. They certainly didn’t call him nice. The only people who really stuck around were his brothers and Vesemir. He was trying to do good by Ciri, but he could still hear the other parents whisper whenever he brought her to preschool. They judged him for being a single dad, for having scars that surely meant that his life was too rough to have a child in it, for having eyes that freaked out some of the kids.

Jaskier hadn’t just started smiling at him when Ciri had urged him to give him some change. His smile hadn’t faltered, despite Geralt scowling at him, despite him not responding to anything he said.

Yet, he had called Geralt over to save him from the rain. And now, even after having spent enough time with him that he must have realised that Geralt wasn’t good company, he still offered to buy him coffee as if it was nothing.

Something warm and fuzzy spread through his chest that almost chased away the cold clinging to his skin from the rain.

Geralt’s mouth was dry and he felt awkward saying it, but just this once, he took a chance. “I could pay for your coffee next time.”

“Next time?” Jaskier perked up, eyes wide.

Geralt shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “If you wanted to.”

“I’d love to.” Jaskier narrowed his eyes playfully and leaned forward on his elbows. “But maybe I should first know some things about the handsome man who just invited me out for coffee first.”

Geralt grunted, the corners of his lips twitching up. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, your name for starters,” Jaskier laughed. “And your favourite song. As much fun as it was trying to find out how long it would take you to tell me to stop, I would really like to know what to play to maybe make you smile again.”

Geralt blinked. “Geralt,” he said dumbly. A grin spread across his face. “And I would definitely smile if you played Here Comes the Sun when it stops to rain just to piss of those people in there some more.”

Jaskier let out a startled laugh that made Geralt’s stomach flip. It wasn’t often that people laughed at his jokes. His humour was too dry or just plainly not funny enough. But somehow, seeing Jaskier throw his head back laughing at something that wasn’t even that funny, Geralt wanted to make him laugh like that again.

When the rain finally stopped, Jaskier didn’t play Here Comes the Sun, but neither of them even noticed. They were too preoccupied talking about everything that came to mind. What started out as polite smalltalk had quickly turned more personal and Geralt was surprised to find out that he really wanted to get to know Jaskier better.

They talked about Jaskier’s struggle with not feeling good enough when it came to his music and Geralt’s struggles with being a single dad. It was surprisingly easy to open up to Jaskier, who didn’t laugh at him for his doubts, but told him how from the little he had seen of Ciri, she had seemed happy with Geralt.

When they finally left the café again and parted ways, Geralt promised to come by with Ciri again soon and listen to him play again.

--

A year later, they went to the very same café again, this time hand in hand. Almost as per tradition, Jaskier started signing again, though this time he hadn’t taken his guitar with him, far too eager to hold Geralt’s hand the whole time through, much to Geralt’s amusement, which only grew, when he recongnised the song.

You are my Sunshine.

Geralt knew Jaskier mainly did this to tease Geralt – teasing him with his songs was a habit Jaskier would probably never lose and secretly, Geralt loved it – but just as every other time, Geralt didn’t tell Jaskier to stop singing in irritation. No, by now, he had a far better way to get Jaskier to stop.

He leaned forward and seized Jaskier’s lips in a kiss, effectively swallowing the song.

“You were right,” Geralt said, when they pulled away again.

“I usually am.” Jaskier smirked and pressed another quick kiss against Geralt’s lips. “But pray tell, what exactly have I been right about?”

Geralt rolled his eyes in fond exasperation. “We really did get lucky by getting caught in the rain.”