#thankfully now that uni is over for the semester i have some time in the break before the next one

[terenos]

tears of the kingdom fashion -> FIERCE DEITY ARMOR

[ghcstao3]

hi again, hope school isn't being too hard on you :( I figured I'd send a few ideas in & you can answer whenever!

IT'S COLD! so how about the 141 during the summer, doing some of your favorite activities! Or maybe a teeny ramble about what each likes doing the most...?

if it's not triggering...SoapGhost in uni. The class they share is for 1 of their majors & the other's minor (or maybe just for extra credits). The extra credit assignment involves taking a day trip somewhere & they're the only 2 who go.

Soap's 2nd job happens to be helping out his local unicorn community, who have all but gone extinct. He comes across the fabled Simon Riley, the Ghost of Soap's hometown, as the poor guy wanders around after being held captive by fey for decades.

school’s just been busy more than anything thankfully!! it’s a lot of work but certainly not too difficult:)

and ahh it was hard to choose from one of these i might have to return to the others. but honestly writing about them in uni is like therapy

-

Simon and John meet in an upper level English literature course.

Well—Simon never really had much say in the matter, not when John had plopped himself down in the seat beside him on the first day even in spite of all the other empty desks in the small classroom. Apparently it’s what John’s heart had desired, and never having been one for unnecessary confrontation, Simon never says anything of it.

He could never really pinpoint when their friendship began, maybe forged through general interest in the topic and whispered comments and jokes about some of the contents during lectures, or maybe through necessity when they’re not familiar with many others in the class, but either way—John ends up becoming one of the better friends Simon’s made in all his years of university.

The thing is, though, with majors that don’t overlap in the slightest—be it Simon’s English major and John’s own in chemistry—they don’t really see much of each other outside of class, unless it means working on a group project. Simon thinks—believes—they’d both like to be friends outside of the course, but… for whatever reason, they each have difficulty initiating anything.

Simon, personally, would like something more. But he doesn’t need it. Just wants John’s company regardless.

But they have their difficulties throughout the semester, that is, until their professor—a sweet old woman, who endures far too much from the few immature students in her class—announces that she had received funding from the department to take interested students to a professional production of Macbeth in a town an hour over. It’s without hesitation that Simon and John both agree to go.

But since it’s so close to finals season, they end up being the only two to go through with attending.

Not that Simon’s complaining—it just means more time spent with John alone. Sort of.

And not to mention he gets to see how nicely John cleans up for the event.

“I’m so glad you boys still came,” their professor says in greeting. “I was afraid no one wanted to go anymore.”

John smiles that stupidly charming smile at her, and Simon’s really beginning to feel the extent of his growing crush on his friend.

“We wouldn’t miss it,” he says.

“Oh, thank you, John.” She glances between them both, some knowing expression appearing briefly on her face before she ushers them inside the theatre. She hands them their tickets, tells them to go ahead, she has some friends from the local university she wants to meet with before the performance starts.

As they settle into their seats, John leans into Simon’s space—closer than he could ever manage at a desk. Simon hopes the theatre’s dark enough that John can’t see the way his ears burn red.

“Warning you now,” John whispers. “I know fuck all about Shakespeare language, so you’re gonna have a lot of explainin’ to do.”

Simon huffs, trying to dispel some of the heat of his blush. “Maybe you should’ve paid more attention in class, then, Johnny.”

John laughs, knocking his shoulder against Simon’s. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been telling me so many jokes during lectures, Mr. English major.”

Simon rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother retaliating. Instead they fall into meaningless conversation until the play begins, quieting only slightly when their professor arrives and sits on the other side of Simon.

The lights dim in the audience, and the performance starts. Simon watches with rapt attention, but true to his word, John asks him far too many questions.

He doesn’t particularly mind, though, when he can feel John’s knee press against his all the while.

John rambles when it’s over, and despite the interrogation, he seemed to understand and enjoy it as much as Simon and their professor had. Simon’s more than content to listen as their professor bids them goodnight, and they both head to the train station while she heads to her car.

Simon isn’t sure what it is that causes it—but the entire ride back, John seems to encroach in his space more than usual, stuck to Simon like glue. Simon does notice his eyes drooping and his head nodding off every once in a while, so he has the excuse of writing it off as exhaustion.

Particularly when John is resting his head on Simon’s shoulder.

“Don’t wanna walk back to my flat,” John laments once they’re climbing off at their stop. “Too far.”

It’s a fit of impulse that has Simon offering, “You could stay at mine? It’s only five minutes.”

And there’s no hesitation when John accepts with a weary grin.

“You’re a lifesaver, Si,” John sighs. “Could kiss you right now.”

Simon freezes. John doesn’t notice as he ambles further away from the train platform.

“What’d you say?”

John pauses, and his brow furrows. He looks to Simon, simultaneously confused and entirely too casual. “Said I could kiss you,” he repeats. “Why? S’that a problem?”

Simon’s gaze falls to the ground as he quickly shakes his head. “No, no, it’s not—that’s not—“

“Would you like me to kiss you?” John pushes, peeking up at Simon through thick lashes. Simon knows he’d give in immediately, if he were looking into those sapphire-blue eyes.

“I mean—“ Simon shrugs a shoulder. His blush has returned in full force, from the nape of his neck, to his cheeks, to the tips of his ears. “—I wouldn’t say no.”

“Okay,” John hums, like it’s nothing, before grabbing Simon’s face and doing exactly as promised.

It isn’t anything life changing, but it’s still—it’s still everything Simon could hope for, even here as a chill runs through him from the night’s cool temperature, even if their only sources of light are the moon and a flickering streetlamp.

John eventually pulls away first, delivering a hearty pat to Simon’s chest. “Now get me back to your flat and we can do that again, aye? It’s fuckin’ freezing out here.”

Simon can’t help the smile that appears on his face. His face tingles a little less now, though he’s sure it’s still stained a deep pink. “Sure, Johnny.”

And if they hold hands the entire way back—Simon will just claim it was for warmth.

[skzoologist]

Hiya!

I come bearing updates on uh how life is going here? I don't remember where I left off so-

Um 3 day freeze came and went and now our temps are swinging back and forth again between 33-76°F (~1-24°C) for the last like, 3 weeks, everything was,,,ok ish there were some accidents on the road from the ice + snow and ppl not being fully prepared for the ice on the roads, most seem to have not caused fatal injuries? So that's good! 🎉

Classes are a mess rn cuz I never got used to having them back 💀

Uhh I auditioned for a kpop dance team on my college campus and made it in! 🎉🎉 We're learning Energetic by Wanna One, Like Ooh Ahh! by Twice, and Go Big or Go Home by Enhypen this semester, and my friend on the elite team is learning Batter Up by Baby Monster 👀 I made a few friends during the workshops, while waiting for auditions, and during practices!

I also got to celebrate Lunar New Year with my family and spent time at a Lunar New Year festival with some new friends!

I also found out that one of my friends committed to the uni I'm studying at and will be starting her freshman year here in the fall!!

On another note, uh,,,I'm sick 😷 I caught COVID this week 😔😔

How're you doing?

-🐹

Oh, updates! :)

I'm glad most of the accidents were non-fatal, weather seems to be all over the place recently. But even in its sassy presence, we must be careful. So bundle up when needed, dear, we don't want you catching a cold or something worse, like pneumonia. (Thankfully the weather here has been tame and warmer, so nothing major happened here.)

Ugh, classes, I dread the moment I will have them again too. I can only wish you the best of luck and cheer for you from here.

Oooh, a dance team, I am a bit jealous ngl. We didn't have these here, last time I danced anything was in pre-highschool, and it certainly wasn't kpop, haha. Those dances all sound good, hope you'll have fun, especially with your newly made friends!

Was the celebration and Festival fun? It sounds fun, although I wouldn't know a thing, as we don't celebrate it here.

Having an old-time friend at uni is always a bonus! I sadly didn't have this opportunity, but I hope you'll enjoy it to its fullest.

Hey now... How did that happen? Do you have anyone who can help you, get you things you need and take care of you if needed? :(

I'm uh... Not the greatest. Thinking about what curse was put on me, as my mystery illness is acting up again, but the docs are not finding anything once again. Anyway, good news are that Luna was successfully operated, she is lively and now in a cute lil jacket to protect her scar. Human family members were also successfully operated on, and recovering wonderfully. One of them is defying the laws of biology with how fast their recovery is, haha.

[fairycosmos]

So about the college/uni thing, just another person with the "it ain't all its cracked up to be perspective". My experience with school is been pretty complicated because of the pandemic and being an undiagnosed adhd/depressed/anxious person for most of it. HS does not properly prepare students for college, especially when it comes to assuming who is going to need more support or not. Im graduating in spring, on time thankfully, but im absolutely dreading the semester. Every semester besides my first have just killed me and it feels like the worst Rollercoaster ride ever. I can't even get a relevant job to my degree once I graduate since without grad school or a teaching masters addition I have no credentials. I feel fucked over. Still plan on grad school but my timeline is all screwed up now and it'll probably be a While before I can come back with any confidence that its not going to get fucked up. School is not for everyone, and the people at school need to take some responsibility for recognizing and pointing out students who are Obviously Struggling or point them to resources. The system is made to be the worst.

you are a complete star for pulling through and managing to get to this point in ur education, seriously! im so sorry it's all been so difficult for you, and i totally agree that the educative system is set up to completely demoralise neurodivergent/struggling kids from the very beginning. it's awful, and so is the expectation that going to college is a requirement and a rite of passage despite it's inaccessibility and incompatibly with certain demographics. plus like you said, so many ppl get scammed and end up having to get even more schooling on top of that just to make their degree useable - how is that at all fair or practical lmfao, it's completely ridiculous. so much time and money that i'd never have. i felt kind of crazy for not wanting to go to university and pointing out all the issues you mentioned, only for everyone around me to act like i was being crazy and a total disappointment. like these are valid concerns? anyway, i'm infinitely proud of you and i'm wishing you the best of luck for this semester, and for moments of peace to find you when you need them. ur on the home stretch now, and you'v got so much to take pride in! sending love. <3

[shuyamino]

LUXIEM IN COLLEGE

pairing(s) : ✒ ،، mysta rias x reader | ike eveland x reader | vox akuma x reader | luca kaneshiro x reader | shu yamino x reader

content : ✒ ،، SFW | college au | fluff | headcanons + blurb | gender neutral pronouns | meet cutes, for the most part

summary : ✒ ،، You're attending Nijisanji University and meet a couple of interesting characters ...

note : ✒ ،، my 100th post, ayoooo!! some of the details here are from my own experience in uni, which hopefully adds more realism to it :3 i'm currently working on 3 longer wips, so ive been a bit slow with writing. i hope this makes up for it <3!!!

SHU YAMINO AS THE TECH SUPPORT ʿ ⟢

SHU is works at your campus' Genius Center — which is just a fancy way of saying the college IT workers. From what you remembered, they help out with various of tech-related services. Which is perfect for you, after your laptop suddenly died one night.

You basically ran into the campus support center the following morning and thrusted your laptop into the nearest Tech Support you can spot — this essay was due that evening! You knew you shouldn't have procrastinated, but you did anyways.

Shu wasn't too shocked about your actions — by now, it was fairly normal to have various college students panicking in the lobby. He holds your laptop, voice calm as he asks you what the problem is.

You're rambling a bit too much. Jumping around topics and making a flurry of hand movements. But he's nodding along, lips still curved to a comforting smile as he leads you towards one of the desks in the small building.

Once you finish your explanation, he has your laptop open and clicking away at the keyboard.

"Um — s-so, can you fix it?" You ask quietly, peeking over his shoulder to look at your laptop screen.

"Well, it looks like you have a... couple of viruses." He answers, craning his neck just to look at you from over his shoulder. "You said you had an essay due soon?" You nod, lips pursed.

"Well… I can help fix up your laptop but if you had your essay saved in a Drive, you can borrow a laptop here and finish it up." You thank him as he heads to the back to get you a campus-issued laptop.

For a good chunk of that day, the two of you sat in this corner — him, trying to fix your laptop and you, trying to finish the rest of your essay.

SHU abruptly stops to stretch his arms up above his head, groaning slightly as he fixed his posture. You'd gotten more than half of your essay finished — thankfully you had the foresight to save all of your online references in a separate outlined document. Since you ran to the tech support building the moment you woke up, you didn't have time to eat breakfast. It wasn't long until your stomach began to protest that mistake. Your cheeks burn red as your stomach groaned — just loud enough to catch Shu's attention. His eyes glance over yours, lips slowly curving to a warm smile. "I...was thinking of taking a coffee break, do you want to come grab something with me?"

It isn't until much later after he helped fix your laptop that you find out that the campus tech support doesn't help students with their personal laptops.

Nor do they take them out for coffee.

MYSTA RIAS AS THE CLASS CRYPTID ʿ ⟢

MYSTA is a student that you thought was failing your shared course — he was fairly late the first day and looked like he rolled out of bed before running to the lecture hall.

He sat beside you at the back corner of the lecture hall after being sternly reprimanded by your professor. He didn't seem to be bothered by it, if anything, it looked like the scolding went in one ear and out the other.

The rest of the semester continues like this. Since it's a general edu class, you're not quite sure what his major is. There were some days when it looked like he was doing comp sci work. Another day when he was reading an online textbook about primates (Anthropology, maybe?). And there were even some slower days when he would just sit and watch anime with a pair of discrete Airpods.

There were some days when he'd notice you staring and he'd turn on subtitles and tilt his laptop towards your direction. Other than this, the two of you rarely spoke to each other. Just small talk at most — it was easy to joke with him, at least, but other than that, you didn't really see him outside of this lecture hall.

Least to say, you've grown morbidly curious about him as the semester progressed. There were a few things that you knew about him — he seemed to like the color orange, if his clothes were anything to go by, and he liked anime. In addition to these facts, you were fairly certain that he was failing this class.

So, imagine your shock after receiving the results of your first exam and you spot a clear 100% on Mysta's paper compared to your 69%.

MYSTA must have noticed you staring because his head snapped up from his exam paper directly to you. You jump slightly, startled at getting caught staring. His eyes trail down to your paper, lips curving slightly at the red mark on your paper. Just as you're about to accusatorially ask him what he was grinning at, he points at the number with a laugh. "You got a 69!" Your jaw slacks because it wasn't exactly what you'd expected to come from his mouth, all the while he keeps laughing about the funny number. You're sat there with an absolute deadpan expression all the while the oh-so mysterious classmate laughs at your score. Not because of how badly you'd done — no, he's laughing because it's a sixty-nine. "Aw, don't pout." Mysta says, wiping the tears from the corner of his eyes. His voice lowered, edging slightly towards a mockingly condescending tone. "I can help you study for the next test, if you want~"

The "study session" actually just consisted of watching more anime and eating.

IKE EVELAND AS THE CAMPUS LIBRARIAN ʿ ⟢

IKE works in the campus library!

He's known for being very friendly and approachable. Any and all anxiety disappears the moment you see him. He just has a really comforting vibe! Students that tour first years around campus make sure to tell them about Ike Eveland. ("If you ever need help around the library, find Ike!")

Ike often works behind the counter on the first floor, but there are moments in which he's putting books back where they belong in the other floors of the library.

You frequented the library — mostly taking advantage of the air conditioning, the tables and comfy chairs, and the quiet floor to take naps in during your free time.

When you weren't studying or finishing up course work, you were usually just sitting around the quiet room to take a nap or just have some downtime from your hectic classes and loud campus.

Despite this, you haven't really spoken to Ike. You never had to, anyway. But you have heard of him — more often than not, you hear people around the other floors whispering and giggling about the cute librarian on the first floor. It doesn't take a genius to know who they were talking about.

The first time you meet him was by pure coincidence.

"Stupid book…" You muttered, already standing on your toes as you stretch your arm up above your head. It wasn't even placed on the highest shelf — just a shelf above your reach. None of the step stools were around either, leaving you to fight this alone. Just as your fingertips managed to reach the book's spine, another hand came into view and easily pulled the book out from the shelf. Your head turns, ready to thank your savior, before you realize you're basically face-to-face with the one and only — "Y-You...!" You stammer before you can help it. IKE tilts is head slightly, seemingly unaffected by the distance between the two of you, or the lack there of. His torso is brushing against your back and you're basically caged between his body and the bookshelf. Your heart thrums against your chest — the loud drumming filling your ears as your cheeks fill with heat. "Sorry, it looked like you needed help." He explains, as he holds the book out for you. You close your mouth, hoping that he didn't notice the way your jaw slackened at the sight of him as you wordlessly take the book from his hand. You're fixing your hair before you can help it — a nervous habit at most. The others weren't exaggerating at all, you think, as you sneak another glance at Ike. He is just as pretty as most people say — kind eyes with long, pretty lashes and a kind smile. Is it a little weird to note that he smells like vanilla too? "I'm still around here for a bit, if you need any more help you can come ask me, okay?"

VOX AKUMA AS THE NEW PROFESSOR ʿ ⟢

VOX recently graduated from grad school and is starting his first year as a professor in Nijisanji University! You're lucky enough to be able to attend his first ever class in your last year as an undergrad.

He's teaching English Literature and even while most students are taking this class to fill in for their general education, he expected the lot of you to still take his class seriously.

It's an hour and thirty minute long class and he spends the first few minutes just talking to the class and reading a short poem every Friday.

Even though it's his first time teaching, he's really good at explaining concepts and various analysis. In addition to this, he's very attentive to what the class (and individual) needs.

It's hard to think that it was his first time teaching, not gonna lie.

On top of his attentiveness, Professor Vox was both pleasing to the eyes and ears. It wouldn't be an over-exaggeration to say that he became a fairly popular professor to the entire student body.

As easy as this class was for the most part, you were still struggling with being able to analyze and connect some literary devices.

So, seeing the bright red C- and a 'Please see me after class', in your latest exam wasn't much of a shock

Professor VOX didn't seem disappointed when you approached him at the end of class — if anything, he seemed concerned. You tried to ignore the wary looks your classmates gave you when you approached him though. It was already embarrassing to get such an awful grade, even weirder knowing that your classmates are imagining some weird porn scenario in their head right about now. He greets you kindly despite your grade and is already packing his things up for the next class. You're nervously fidgeting with your thumbs — you've always hated having to talk to professors about your grade. No matter how kind they were. "I'm really sorry," You start, before he can start his 'I'm-not-disappointed' speech. Vox's eyebrows quirk, before his lips curl to a comforting smile. "I just…I kind of understand everything — " "There's nothing to apologize for," He cuts you off with a small wave of his hand. "If anything, I want to be the one to apologize. I should have noticed one of my students struggling." Your heart skips a beat. It's unfair for him to be handsome, attentive, and kind. Your cheeks flush before you can help it — a deep flush that makes you sweat a little under his gaze. "I-I think it's just hard to connect these kinds of things for me." You explain, hoping that your voice doesn't come out too high pitched. "It really isn't your fault." Vox seems to mull it over. "Well, I won't force your hand on the matter, but if you'd prefer, I am open for one-on-one tutoring sessions."

LUCA KANESHIRO AS THE DORM CUTIE ʿ ⟢

The dorms were co-ed, though the male and female rooms were separated in different wings. When you first started college, you were required to live in the dorms.

Bumping into the opposite gender wasn't anything odd, though you'd be a liar to say that you didn't have moments of confusion upon seeing some rando standing about by your dorm room.

You meet LUCA on your way to one evening class — an unavoidable class, unfortunately, if you want to stay on track for your 4-year graduation. You bump into him past the common room, where he's making a sandwich.

You don't recognize him right away, but he does you.

"Oh hey!" He calls out, holding a sandwich in his hand. "I remember you from orientation. Where are you going?"

He seemed friendly enough, so you explain to him where you were heading. It wasn't until a few seconds into the conversation that you realize that he was in your orientation group. His name was at the tip of your tongue — Leo? Luke? — Oh, right! Luca.

LUCA blinks, looking confused when you explained to him where you were heading — almost like it didn't even cross his mind that people would take classes this late in the evening. You stare back, more or less confused about his reaction than anything else. He reminds you of the typical frat boy — wouldn't be too surprised if he did end up joining a fraternity after living in the dorms. Broad shoulders and a big build. And his thin white shirt isn't doing much to hide the dark tattoos on his chest. His medium length blonde hair is messily tied up too, like he'd done it in a hurry to make his sandwich. He is cute though. "Well, I should go." You say, pointing towards the elevator. It was the first day — or, evening, you guess — and you really didn't want to be late, even if it meant being able to talk to someone like Luca. "Oh, wait! I actually have somewhere to go right now. Is it cool if I walk with you?" Luca asks, still smiling brightly with his sandwich. You can't help but squint at him. It was clear that he wasn't planning on going out anywhere. He must have noticed your suspicion because he quickly adds, "It's late, you know. We can keep each other safe!" You realize then what he was hoping to do. You couldn't help but beam at him; your lips curling to a wide smile. You agree to his offer, deciding to play along with his excuse. Just this once. His own face lights up at your response. His response reminds you of a giant giant golden retriever. "Pog! Lemme jus' grab my jacket."

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 7 (NSFW)

Masterlist

@acollectionofficsandshit I know you LOVED this chapter (tbh I loved writing it) and thank you for all the time you spend listening to me rant about F1 and this fic in general!

Also PLEASE check out her fic Roman Profile if you haven't already! Its set in the same universe as this one 🥰

Word count: 6.4k

Recommended song: “Mine” by Bazzi

Three weeks later, life had largely returned to normal. Hateful comments were few and far between now that Pierre had gone on record saying he didn’t want to discuss any relationships he may or may not have. You hadn’t posted on social media either, aside from the occasional picture from your many excursions in nature. No whisper of Pierre on your account, nor you on his. The only ones privy to your private accounts where you did post pictures of each other were the boys and your families. It was as close to perfect as you could expect, which was a welcome relief as the semester wound down and you had little energy for anything non-project related.

Unfortunately, finals week at uni coincided with one of your favorite races on the calendar: the German GP. Pierre was busy all week with press events and recording promos for AlphaTauri. You barely noticed the lack of communication on the days leading up to the race; you were too busy pouring over textbooks and rewriting notes. But he managed to text you every morning to wish you luck and remind you to take a minute to relax. 

Pierre wound up DNF’ing on lap twelve with a gearbox failure, a fact that you only found out later Sunday night. For whatever inexplicable reason, your architectural history teacher had been hell bent on having your exam at 1 pm on a Sunday. You had never been so happy to be finished with a class in your entire life. 

Now that finals were behind you, most of the student body was busy packing up their dorm rooms and heading back home for the summer. However, your study abroad program required you take three classes over the summer term, but thankfully you had a two week break until those started up. Your plan was to head back to France and spend much needed time with your family who you hadn't seen since winter break in December. 

Max calls when you are on the way to the airport, simply to catch up and fill you in on his perspective of Monaco’s race the day before. He had taken home the win, usurping Hamilton in the final three laps to cling to victory. He was closing in on the seven time world champ quickly, the competition for this year's title neck and neck. You chatted with him until you reached the check in desk and had to hang up, much to the Dutchman's despair. He would talk about the technical aspects of his overtakes and maneuvers for an hour if you had let him.

The flight itself was easy, you had the window seat and the flight was just over an hour so you spent your time admiring what you could glimpse of the landscape through the billowing clouds. In no time, the pilot was announcing your descent and you were touching down on the tarmac. You made your way through the small airport with ease, making your way to baggage claim. You collected your overstuffed suitcase and went outside to hunt for your brother, Ben, who was supposed to pick you up.

You scan the cars waiting in the passenger pick up lot, but the family Mercedes was nowhere to be seen. "Late as usual," You sigh, taking a seat and dialing his number. 

"Five minutes," He answers, not bothering with the usual polite greetings. "Mom needed some help with something before I left."

“Sure she did,” You say, not buying it for a second. His memory was terrible, something he shared with your dad. Neither of them would remember a thing if it wasn’t for your mom’s constant reminders and the sticky notes she peppered around the house.

“No really, she did. Promise. I’m getting onto the highway now.”

“You said five minutes!” If he was only getting on the freeway now, he must have just left your house.

“Er, did I? Sorry, more like a half hour.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You are so lucky it’s nice outside today.” 

“Just do some homework or something. It won’t be that long.”

“I’m on break, genius.”

“Hey, never know with you. Your uni is messed up.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Now that I can agree on.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

You secretly suspected this would happen, planning ahead and packing your favorite well loved paperback in your carryon. Losing yourself in the story was second nature, the salty spray of the sea and the lush forests of the island setting rushing back to you on page one. 

You had to tear your eyes from the words when you got a text. Thankfully, it was from the one person you didn’t mind interrupting you.

You land yet?

Yep, waiting on Ben as usual. 

For some reason, im not surprised.

You worry your bottom lip, contemplating whether or not you should voice the ache that bloomed in your chest when his name had appeared. A month and a half had passed since he had shown up at your apartment to comfort you, and your overlapping schedules had been determined to keep you apart since.

Are you sure you can’t come by for a day? I miss you

If you could see him face to face for an hour, you would be satisfied. A single kiss, a minute to run you hands over his shoulders, arms, chest, and you would skate by for another month if you had to. You stare at your phone, impatient for his reply. But it doesn’t come, not before a horn honks and you whip your head around and are met with the characteristically lopsided grin of your younger brother through the windshield. 

“Took you long enough,” You say, returning his grin. “Get your lazy ass out here and help me.”

“Man, you leave for a few months and you develop a potty mouth?” He shakes his head, leaving the car running while he helps you load your luggage. “I’m gonna have to tell mom about that." Ben was three years younger than you but that didn’t stop people from thinking you were twins. You both took after your mom appearance wise; the only real difference was that Ben’s hair had a slight curl to it. 

“Whatever,” You say, bumping his shoulder. “How’s Sharon?”

“That stinky mutt?” He wrinkles his nose at the mention of your beloved pet. “Could use a bath. I just gave her one yesterday and she immediately decided it would be a great idea to roll around in the dirt. So your white and black dog is now brown and black.”

You laugh, sliding into the passenger seat. “See, that’s why I’m her favorite. I don’t shame her for doing what dogs do.”

“Yeah, that’s why,” He scoffs, pulling away from the curb. “Has nothing to do with the table scraps you constantly give her.”

You laugh again, the summer breeze stirring the hair that had come loose from your bun as you got on the highway. Ben rolls up the window and you squawk in protest. “Maybe I wanted it down!”

“No you don’t, trust me on that one.” He grins again, and you narrow your eyes. So what if your hair got messed up? Ben was the last one you would expect to be concerned with your appearance.

“Ben,” You start, “What’s going on?”

“Absolutely nothing, dear sister. I just assumed you would want to look presentable when we get home so mom doesn’t fuss.”

“Hmm. Right.” You let it drop. “Hey, how’s Ashley?”

A shiver runs down Ben’s spine and he grimaces. “Yeah that one ended a couple months ago. She was… intense.”

You try and fail to hide your smile. You hadn’t cared for her anyway; from what you had gleaned, she didn’t respect Ben, treating him more as arm candy than a boyfriend. “Sorry to hear that?”

“All good. She was going to college in Belgium and I’m staying here, so it would’ve ended eventually.”

You refrain from mentioning how your own relationship was proof that love transcended distance and nod instead. You couldn’t deny that it was rough, but you had to believe it was worth it. You wouldn’t be in school forever, and once you graduated you could get a part time job at an engineering firm in Austria or wherever Pierre spent the most time.

“Besides, I’m over Ashley. I’ve got my sights on a new guy.” Ben waggles his eyebrows. 

“Oh do you?” You grin, punching his arm. “Tell me more about him. Is he coming by tonight?”

“Hell no! It’s a crush, bud. The poor garcon doesn’t know I exist.”

You let out a bark of laughter. “Really? Garcon?”

Ben shrugs, one hand raised in defense. “He’s french! I’m trying to learn the language. Pierre’s been giving me insider tips.”

Your head whips to him. Ben refuses to meet your stare, biting his lip. “You’ve been facetimeing him?” You had been busy enough that you hadn’t been able to spare more than a few minutes at a time, but the realization that Pierre had filled his time by talking to your family was oddly off-putting.

“Oh- uh yeah, Facetime. I practice when he calls to catch up.” His fingers drum the steering wheel. His answer is only half convincing, but you let it slide. 

“Tell him you need to work on your accent. It’s atrocious.”

**********

The moment you spot the quaint white brick ranch-style house at the end of Avenue du Chalet, you can't wipe the grin off your face. You fling open the car door before Ben has the chance to put it in park. Your mom was waiting on the porch, and you gave her a hug before grabbing your luggage. "Where's dad? And the dog?"

"Around back with their favorite person," She says, fighting a smile. Your face scrunches up, pausing with a hand on the trunk. 

"Aren't I the dog's favorite?" Your mom shrugs noncommittally and you purse your lips. "You and Ben are acting off now." You wrack your brain, trying to determine who it could be. Probably not your aunt, or one of your cousins… "Grandpa?" You ask, quirking a brow.

"Leave your things by the stairs and go see for yourself." 

Your neat and orderly mother suggesting you clutter up her spotless entryway? Oh, there was something suspicious going on. 

You leave your things where instructed, soaking up the familiarity of the front hall. The progression of pictures of you and your brother from grade one through high school graduation line the wall on the left, poorly posed yearly family portraits lining the other. The hall itself opens into a bright, airy kitchen, where the smells of homemade chicken noodle soup and made from scratch biscuits make your stomach growl. The unchanged living room sits past the kitchen, the plush, high back armchairs and matching loveseat arranged to give everyone a decent view of the television while still encouraging conversation between occupants. A muffled bark draws your attention to the dining room and the sliding glass doors beyond, leading to the patio. 

You brush past the oak dining table, the formal place settings untouched. Heaving open the door, your dad breaks off mid sentence when he sees you.

"We were just wondering when you would get here," he says, motioning to his conversation partner. Crouched off to the side, scratching the dog's belly was-

"Pierre?"

"Hello, mon coeur." He grins and stands, his broad smile crinkling his eyes. A laugh bubbles past your lips and your legs process the sight of him before your brain does, carrying you across the lawn and into his waiting arms. 

Before you can convince yourself not to, you wrap your legs around him and bury your face in his neck. If this was a dream, it was one you never wanted to wake up from. It isn't until his cologne blankets your senses that you realize you aren't dreaming; Pierre is here, and your soul swells with his presence. You're absently aware of Ben's efforts to keep you presentable and are immensely grateful for it.

"Sorry I didn't tell you," He says into your hair. "Your mom wanted it to be a surprise."

"It's okay," You promise, because it is. You didn't care that he hadn't told you because all that mattered was that he was here and you could hold him and hear his laugh clearly instead of distorted by a phone speaker.

"What am I, chopped liver?" 

Heat rises to your cheeks and you extract yourself from Pierre. You'd forgotten anyone else was present, too caught up in your boyfriend's surprise appearance. 

"Sorry dad," you say sheepishly and give him a one-armed hug. Pierre's hand settles on the small of your back as you sidle up beside him, a silent reminder to you and himself that you were finally together again. 

"Sharon doesn't like many people," Your dad starts, eyeing how close you are standing to Pierre, "But she's never had any problem with Pierre. As far as I'm concerned, that's indication enough that he belongs here."

Sure enough, the dog was at his feet, staring up at him and begging for attention. She normally didn't let anyone that wasn't immediate family near her. Pierre relents when you nudge him, reaching down to scratch between her ears and earning himself an affectionate lick in response.

You'd missed your family, but as your dad continues talking, your focus is on the man beside you. The flat brim of his cap shields his baby blues from the golden light of the late afternoon sun that catches on the scruff on his jaw, the waning light painting the angles of his face in sharp relief. You study the lines that form when he laughs, the sound full and throaty. His fingers press into your skin when he notes your rapt attention, betraying his artfully composed exterior. He was struggling just as much as you were to remain present, though he was doing a much better job of masking it.

"Mary and Ben should have dinner just about ready," Your dad says, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. "Ben was more trouble than your mom expected, I think. He overcooked the noodles."

"I didn't even know that was possible," Pierre says and you snort.

"Ben shouldn't be allowed within fifty feet of a stove. He's a walking fire hazard with a spatula in his hand."

"It's not that bad!" Comes his faint call from the kitchen. You roll your eyes, turning back to Pierre, a sarcastic retort ready but the weight of his affectionate gaze turns the waiting words to ash. Your smile falters and your pulse quickens. No photos could do his beauty justice regardless of the photographer's skill. No camera could capture the ethereal grace held in the sharp cut of his jaw or the intoxicating effect of his sea blue eyes trained on you, eagerly lapping up your every move.

Fuck, your heart screams to kiss him, but your head reminds you that you family is mere feet away. Tension hangs between the two of you, both waiting with baited breath for the first opportunity to act on your desire.

Faintly, your dad clears his throat and mumbles about helping in the kitchen; a flimsy excuse but one you were thankful for. As soon as the sliding door shuts, Pierre cups the back of your neck and draws you in for a long awaited kiss. You sigh, melting into him and tangling your fingers in the hair escaping the back of his cap. You missed the fiery passion he ignited within you, the way you burned brighter when under the influence of his twin flame.

The kiss is a black hole, devouring any sense of decency you have left as you fall into orbit around him, sucked in by his gravity. Your tongue has a mind of its own, prodding his lower lip to beg for entrance. His lips part, tongue sliding against yours with the unchecked hunger of a starving man granted a bountiful feast. A whisper of a moan escapes before you can stop it, breaking whatever spell had been cast over the two of you.

Pierre pulls back, touching his forehead to yours, cap askew. "I wish we were alone."

Fisting your hands in the navy fabric of his hoodie, you murmur your agreement. What you would give to lay him down right there in the green grass and have him under the low-hanging summer sun. 

"I can't believe you're here."

He wraps you in a tender hug, his steady heartbeat echoing in your ear. It grounds you, keeping you solidly in the moment. "You've got me for today and tomorrow before Alpha steals me again. Jet leaves at noon on Wednesday."

You suck in a breath and smile up at him. "Is it my birthday or something?" Almost two entire days of uninterrupted Pierre, what more could you ask for?

"I'll treat you like it is," he murmurs, his smirk edged with mischief. 

"Is that a promise?" You ask, returning his grin.

"Might be, if I can get you away from his house long enough."

"We'll go for dessert after dinner." His eyes darken at the suggestion, gleaning the double meaning. His reply is cut off by the noisy arrival of your brother, pointedly fumbling with the door before opening it. 

"Is it safe to come out?" He asks, and you yank the door open and punch his shoulder.

"Idiot," you mutter under your breath, the insult carrying none of the heat that blazed within you. You motion for Pierre to follow you inside, everyone working together to bring dishes heaped with delicious food to the patio table. 

Pierre smiles brightly at your mother and pulls out her chair. "Smells great, Mary."

You slide into your seat and glance sidelong at Pierre. You'd never heard him address your parents by anything other than their last name and knowing they were now on a first name basis was both sweet and terrifying. If you messed this up, you wouldn't be the only one with a broken heart. Pierre had settled into the lives of your entire family and a break up would mean everyone would be devastated.

That won't happen, you tell yourself. He would never do anything to hurt you. But the press on the other hand… That was something neither of you could control. 

As if sensing your internal panic, Pierre rests a hand on your thigh and squeezes reassuringly. He continues serving himself and passing dishes like nothing was amiss, giving you time to reassess.

Right. You aren't alone. You loved Pierre and he loved you; he had gone out of his way to prove it. The two of you could walk through fire and come away unscathed as long as you had each other.

You take a deep breath, conscious of the conversation flowing around you as you place a hand over his, answering his questioning stare.

Thank you, the gesture said, in your own silent way. 

Eating dinner with your non-dominant hand was awkward, but you managed. You refused to be the one to move first; now that he was here you wanted to take advantage of the ease of casual touch. No one commented on the way you had slowly inched toward each other all night until you were eventually pressed arm to arm and knee to knee, your gravity gluing you together. Wine and conversation flowed as the evening wore on, the sunset casting the yard in a warm orange glow.

"Oh, I've got a story about her that you'll love," your mom chimes in when your dad excuses himself to find another bottle of wine. "Remember that time we skied in Zermatt over New Years?"

"Oh please don't," you say at the same time your brother bursts into laughter. You groan, covering your face and sliding down in your seat. Pierre doesn't bother to move his hand when you do so, instead letting it glide up your thigh until his pinky slips beneath the hem of your loose shorts.

"I think I'd like to hear this story," Pierre says, hand shifting dangerously close to your center. You tense beneath him, but don't brush him away. If you'd been seated anywhere other than at the cover of the table, you would have. We can go after this, his subtle touch says. Maybe your embarrassment would be worth it in the end, if it meant you got to get him out of that sinfully tight shirt that stretched across his broad chest, clinging to him like you wished you could.

"As I said, we were in Switzerland over new years. Matt had a business trip and his boss graciously allowed the family to tag along."

"What she means is she forced his boss to let us come along," Ben corrects, and Pierre huffs a laugh, paired with his fingers splaying under your shorts. You hone in on the movement of his hand as it creeps further up your leg, acutely aware of how he shifts to cover up the true purpose of his movements. 

"It was a holiday." The glare she cuts your brother has him falling in line, but Pierre chuckles. His thumb digs into your thigh, further drawing your attention away from the conversation, pulse hammering. "She may have had a bit too much to drink- by that I mean exactly two beers, she's always been a lightweight- and she decided it would be a wonderful idea to run out at midnight, in her pajamas, and jump in an iced over snow bank." 

"Ah, Zermatt," your dad recalls, a fresh bottle of red vintage in hand. Your mom nods, making room for him on the wicker loveseat. Pierre leans forward, using it as an excuse to brush your cloth covered sex. The firm squeeze of your thigh is an approval of the wetness he discovers. You swallow thickly and clench your jaw, struggling to remain in the conversation.

Ben was already clutching his sides with laughter. "She was yelling, blowing one of those noise maker things, and as soon as she jumped in she just started wailing! Had bruises that lasted for weeks!"

"Shut up," you say, glaring at Ben. Your cheeks were burning from more than simple embarrassment but somehow Pierre's laugh was artfully composed and provided you with much needed cover. The combined laughter was one of the most heavenly sounds you had ever heard, even if it was at your expense.

"I wish you'd gotten it on camera," Pierre says, his pinkie toying with the line of your panties. Your knee bangs the underside of the table as you cross your legs, pinning his devilish hand in place. You fight to keep your breathing in check, praying your fidgeting isn't too obvious. 

Pierre continues on undeterred. "Matt, would you mind if I steal your daughter for two hours or so? I passed an ice cream bar on the way in that I'd like to take her to and I think it closes soon."

He was being far too formal, but you knew your father would appreciate the gesture. "Of course, take the Mercedes. Have her back before midnight, now," he adds with a wink, fishing the keys out of his pocket and tossing them to Pierre. He snatches them out of the air, hand falling away from your thigh as he stands. You swear if you look down you'd find his handprint branded on your skin, still burning in the wake of his touch.  

"No problem. I promise to bring her back in one piece."

"Drive safe," Ben adds, smirking at you. "No detours." No doubt he could piece together your silence and see it for what it was. He wouldn't rat you out though; you had years of leverage to use against him if he did.

"I will," Pierre says, taking your hand. Electricity sparked over your skin, the urge to get him alone nearly convincing you to sprint.

"And bring me a shake!" Your mom calls after you, but it barely registers.

Your body is thrumming with excitement as Pierre leads you to the garage where the gleaming black Merc is ready and waiting. Pierre opens the door for you- a true gentleman- and you fold your hands in your lap to keep from fidgeting. He slides in beside you, fitting the key in the ignition and turning it over. A stupid grin splits his face as the engine purrs to life and he looks over at you. You could cut the tension with a knife, but you're both stubborn as hell and refuse to make the first move. His gaze stays locked on yours, grip on the wheel turning white-knuckled as your will battles his.

You crack first.

You haul him to you by the collar of his shirt, the force of it making your teeth clack. His hands stay on the wheel and the shifter, but yours wander over his clothed torso, tracing the lines of his abdomen and the v of muscle that disappears beneath his jeans.

"At least wait till we're off the property to get in my pants," he teases.

"Drive like you mean it then," you murmur and nip at his bottom lip. "Because I think I've been waiting long enough."

He hits the garage opener, revving the engine while he waits. Tires squeal as he hits the gas, his racing instincts kicking in. You'd catch hell for the commotion later, but you didn't care. Speed was his addiction and he was yours. You'd do anything to see his face light up when the adrenaline hit, his breathy chuckle a direct injection of dopamine to your veins.

Pierre has just turned off your street when you snake an arm under his and place your hand on his thigh. God, you couldn't wait any longer. You wanted him now - and if he couldn't be inside you, you wanted the next best thing.

"I hate driving a manual," he says as he shifts through the gears. He was so infuriatingly composed, nothing at all like the needy mess you had spiraled into. "It always takes me a minute to remember that the left pedal is the clutch, not the brake."

"Oh yeah?" You're too distracted to process what he's saying, leaning over the center counsel and fumbling with the button on his jeans. A frustrated growl slips out and you glare up at him. "Help."

"Someone's overeager," he purrs, sliding his hips forward to give you better access.

You let out a triumphant huff when you finally undo the button and slide the zipper down. "What did you expect when you showed up without warning and proceeded to tease me at dinner?" You palm him through the thin fabric of his boxers, his cock already hard and waiting.

"I didn't think- fuck."

Words fail him when you take him in your mouth, nearly groaning at the taste of him. His fingers tangle in your hair as you slide your tongue over the head, the saltiness of precum coating your taste buds. The angle didn't allow you to take him all in so you wrap your hand around the rest of him and pump your fist in time with your mouth.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he mumbles, his hand leaving your head in favor of downshifting as you approach a red light. "Fucking manuals."

You hum in agreement, knowing that the near-black tint of the windows would conceal you from anyone outside. You drag your tongue up the length of him, chuckling when he botches the upshift. "Where's that unfaltering concentration I see on the track?"

"Seriously?" He swears when he grinds gears again.

"Seriously." Your tongue flicks out over the glistening head of his cock and he hisses. "You're gonna have to pay for a new clutch when you smoke this one," you tease, stealing a glance up at him. His cheeks are flushed, jaw set as he does his best to keep his eyes on the road.

"Worth it." His hips buck when you bring your mouth back to him, taking as much of him as you can. It's still a pitiful amount, barely half his proud length, but the awkwardness of the position prevents you from taking more of him. He just keeps driving, ice cream completely forgotten.

You hollow your cheeks as you bob your head, his throaty, choked moan rewarding your efforts. You could blow him for hours if he kept making those sounds that had your core throbbing.

"Fuck," he growls, turning down a desolate side street. 

Pierre glides the car to a stop and throws it in neutral, ripping the emergency brake. One hand stays braced on the wheel, the fingers of the other once more tangling in your hair and urging you to take more of him. You oblige, going up on your knees and moving your hand from his shaft to cup his balls. His head falls back, breath coming in tight gasps that tell you he's close, his hand finding your ass and digging into the supple flesh.

Your name falls from his lips like water, his thighs coiling beneath you. It tumbles from him again and again when he cums and you stroke every drop from him and swallow.

Sweat beads on his brow, his eyes shut and breathing ragged as he tries to regain his footing. The taste of him lingering in your mouth only serves to nurse the coals of your arousal into an inferno. 

"Fuck I missed you," you say, and press a kiss to his exposed throat. A huffed laugh and an angled chin is his response, letting you kiss and suck along his jaw. You're careful not to leave marks in such a visible area, but when you pull his collar aside you don't hesitate to leave a bruise where his shoulder meets his neck. 

"Come here," he says finally. You oblige, clamoring over the middle council and straddling him as best you can in the small space. You turn his cap backwards to allow you an unimpeded view of his face. His fingers ghost over your thighs, moonlight reflecting off his glazed eyes. "Your turn."

You sigh when his fingers slide under the leg of your shorts, pushing your panties aside in favor of stroking your wet center. "Always wet for me, aren't you?"

The slight contact has you whining, desperate for more. "Yes- always. P-please, Pierre."

"Please what?" he prompts, dragging a finger through your folds. God, you couldn't think beyond the roughness of his callouses hitting your clit with every stroke. You whine again, shaking your head. He knows damn well what you want and you are incapable of voicing the words, mind to lust addled to piece together a coherent sentence.

"I said" -he places a hand on your throat- "Please what?"

It was all you need to be utterly consumed by him. When he let the dominance he showcased on track filter into times like this, it turns you to putty in his hands. "P-please fuck me," you whisper, submitting to his touch. "I need you."

"There's my good girl," he purrs, slipping two fingers inside you. You gasp, arching your back in search of a deeper angle. The hand on your throat holds firm in warning.

He was running the show. He would decide how this went down.

He fucks you lazily with his fingers, letting you roll your hips against him as he takes his time. "We have all night," he reminds you. "I could drag this out until you're begging me to let you come, or I could do this" -he curls his digits inside you, eliciting a low moan from you- "and have you coming in a matter of minutes."

"I wanna come," you breathe. You'd been waiting for release since the moment you laid eyes on him in the yard and there was no way you would let him drag it out when he had already done so for hours.

"You're lucky I'm feeling generous."

Your fingers dig into his shoulders when his own speed up, hitting that sweet spot inside of you. You grind your hips into his hand, the friction on your clit sending pulses of pleasure through you. His lips connect to your shoulder, leaving a mark twin to the one on his own skin.

"Now everyone knows you're mine," he murmurs. His grin is possessive, teeming with primal passion. Your grip on his shoulder tightens as the knot in your stomach constricts and your orgasm snaps through you, his name a strangled shout as you ride through it.

"I love you," he mumbles as you come down from your high. Your head is still a mess when he withdraws his fingers and licks them clean before wiping them on his shirt. "If only there was room for two in my car."

"You'll have to talk to your engineers about that." You retreat back to the passenger seat and straighten your shirt. There was no use trying to eliminate the color in your cheeks, but you could at least make sure your clothes weren't obviously wrinkled from your escapades.

"Something tells me they won't be open to the idea of spending millions and sacrificing aero just so I can fuck you in the paddock."

"Probably not." Pierre starts the engine and turns on the defroster. The windows had fogged with the heat of your breath and bodies. "We still have to get a shake for my mom."

"Think she'll mind if it's melted?" 

You place your hand on his thigh, nails scraping the denim. "You know I wouldn't object to round two."

Pierre cups your cheek and leans over to kiss you. He pours all the passion and love into it he can, and you melt like candy on his tongue. He invades your senses, making it impossible for the world to exist outside of where your skin touches. Every breath smelled of cedar, of both of you mingled together. By the time you became aware of your fingers, they had traveled father up his leg, resting at the waist of his jeans.

"Waiting makes it sweeter," he says against your lips.

"I know you're right," you relent, "but you're all I can think about." You knew if you lived a million lifetimes, you would never tire of him. 

"I actually do want to take you to the place I found. It's a bit of a drive from here but you'll love it."

You sigh, pressing your lips to his. He was an addiction you never wanted to be cured of. "Take me there."

So he did. You talk as he drives, your hand on the gearshift under his. He guides you through the motions when he needs to shift, unwilling to let go for a single second. You grind gears more than he does, your left hand unused to the pattern. And when you pull into the parking lot, sides cramping at yet another of his dumb jokes, you didn't know how you could have ever loved anyone else.

You'd been in love a handful of times before but never like this. The love you had for Pierre was pure, unfiltered, and unending. He was the lighthouse that guided you home when the hurricane of the outside world became too much to bear. His name was the one on your tongue when you lay in bed and worked off the frustration of a long day. He was the one you wanted to curl up beside at night. He was the one you wanted, now and forever.

Funny how something as simple as ice cream could change your world forever.

You encourage him to take the long way home, stopping on more than one occasion to climb in his lap. The shake had melted by the time you finally made it home, leaving the Merc in the driveway in favor of not waking your family. You sneak inside, giddy and barely able to contain the love threatening to burst from your chest. 

Pierre lets the dog out while you change for bed. Thankfully, your parents trusted you enough to let the two of you sleep in the same room. An air mattress was waiting on the floor, but you knew you wouldn't need it. Pierre would squeeze onto the twin bed with you because there was no way you were sleeping with an ocean of space between you when you were in the same room.

He slips into the room silently and informs you, "Ran into your dad in the kitchen."

"That explains why it took you so long," you say, swinging your legs off the bed while he undresses and slips onto a pair of sweats. "What did he say?"

"The usual dad stuff." He climbs into bed, settling between you and the wall. "'Break her heart and I'll break your face,' 'no funny business under my roof.' Nothing unexpected."

"Do you plan to adhere to the no funny business policy?" You run your fingers over his golden skin as you speak, pointedly toying with his waistband.

He catches your hand and places a kiss to your palm. "Yeah. Sorry to disappoint."

"That's fine. Honestly," you add when he raises a brow. "I'm just glad you're here."

"Hey, remember when I was in Japan?" He asks suddenly. The memory of your conversation comes rushing back.

"You had another gift for me," you say, propping your head up on your fist. "Are you gonna give it to me?"

"Honestly, I'm amazed you haven't found it yet." 

"What do you-"

He pulls a velvet box out from under your pillow. Your mouth falls open, heart stuttering. It was too big to be a ring, but it screamed expensive.

"Open it," he murmurs, placing it in your hands. You glance up at him one more time before you lift the lid and gasp.

"It matches," you murmur, running your fingers over the stone. It was a necklace of rose gold and rough cut aquamarine, the blue of which perfectly matched his eyes. Wearing it would be like carrying a tiny piece of him wherever you went.

"We must have gone through a hundred stones," he confesses. "Charles wasn't too happy, but he helped me pick it out. Took us three hours."

"Pierre, I…" You couldn't speak around the lump in your throat. Instead, you hand him the box and sweep your hair over a shoulder. His knuckles brush your neck as he clasps it, then presses a kiss to your nape. You turn back to him and let your kiss express your gratitude. 

You were irrevocably his from that moment on.

[laventae]

Serendipity

Summary: You accidentally bump into Suna once, then a second time, then a third time.... before it starts seeming like fate has already decided its course for the both of you.

Pairings: Suna Rintaro x F!reader

Genre: Mostly fluff, College/Uni au

Word count: 3.4k words

Part: 1 , (2) , (3) , (TBC)

(A/N: I suck at writing summaries but anyways. This is/was supposed to be part of my [HQ Boys - Pretending to be your boyfriend] series, but I really wanted to make this slightly longer than my usual one-shots. Also, this story will probably have every cheesy trope you know, so, proceed with caution and I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.)

THUD

THUD

THUD

THUD

‘Okay, what the fuck is going on?’ you think as you slowly try to open your eyes. 

Looking at your bedside table, you reach for your phone and check the time

7:35 A.M

‘Ugh... it’s too early for this shit...’ you think as you yawn.

You remember your shift at work starts at about 9 a.m., so you decide to sleep for a bit longer.

You place your phone back down on your bedside table, and turn in bed, covering your face with a pillow.

THUD

“Goddammit, what’s going on outside?!” you exclaim, getting out of your bed and heading for the front door.

You open the door hastily, and find your landlord standing in the hallway of your apartment building, then notice multiple moving boxes scattered around, and movers talking some of the boxes into the apartment opposite yours.

You’re both startled when you open the door, but she softens as soon as she notices it was you.

“Good morning, Mrs. Saito. What’s going on?” you ask her sleepily.

“Goodness, I’m sorry they woke you up as well, sweetheart. The new tenant told me they were moving in today but I didn’t know the movers were coming this early and causing this much of a ruckus!” she exclaims, looking like she was just as annoyed by the noise as you were.

“Well, the new tenant certainly didn’t make a good first impression, huh?” you say, trying to lighten the mood.

She chuckles softly, “I guess not. They’re not even here yet, so I’m just going to have to stay here until the movers are done” she sighs.

“Want me to make you a cup of coffee?”

“Oh, that’s alright, sweetheart, you should go back in and try to get some more sleep” she says, waving you back into your apartment.

You try to insist, but you feel too tired. Instead, you just nod and go back in, closing the door behind you.

Sighing, you head to your bedroom again; you figure you should try to get a bit more sleep in before you actually start getting ready for work.

-~-~-

After tossing and turning in bed for a couple of minutes, the noise wouldn’t get any quieter, so you thought you might as well get out of bed and head to your part-time job a bit earlier than usual.

You start getting ready, and make a quick cup of coffee to give Mrs. Saito on your way out. She thanks you and you go on your way.

When you first moved into your apartment about 2 years ago, you were able to find a pretty decent part-time job working as a barista at coffee shop nearby. It was only about two blocks away from where you lived, so it was super convenient; and a plus point, you were never late.

Checking your phone again, you notice the time

8:35 A.M

“It’s still so early...” you yawn as you take out your headphones and play some music to listen to while you walk to the coffee shop, talking your time.

After about 15 minutes of enjoying your morning walk, and window shopping on the stores along the way, you reach your destination and open the front door.

“Goodmorning, y/n!” you hear your boss call out to you as soon as you enter, “Early as usual, I see”

You chuckle as you head in his direction, “Oh, you know me, always excited to get to work!” you joke.

He laughs, “Yesterday was your last day of your second Uni semester, wasn’t it?” he asks you.

“Yeah, made it out in one piece thankfully”

He laughs again, “I’m sure you did well, I've seen how stressed out you’ve been about it but I also know how hard you’ve been studying, don’t worry” he assures you as he points to the chairs in the shop, silently asking you to help him out with setting them up.

“How do you know that?” you sigh, grabbing a few chairs and setting them down.

He stops what he’s doing and looks at you, “You think I didn’t notice the dark circles you kept coming in with, during every shift, for the past couple of weeks?”

“Was it that obvious?” your eyes widen.

“Definitely” he answers and you both laugh.

After setting up the last few chairs, your boss speaks up again, “Alright, why don’t you head in and get ready, I’ll just be out here setting up the register before we open in a couple of minutes”.

You nod and walk back to the staff locker area.

-~-~-

The day goes by slowly, as usual, and after a few hours, you take your break and head to the staff room locker area to relax and have a (late) breakfast.

‘I really need this right now’ you sigh as you take a sip of your coffee, feeling more tired than usual, and blame it on having to wake up super early that morning.

You check your phone and notice a text message.

1 NEW MESSAGE

You open it.

FROM ‘Wifeyy <3’: “Heyy! Call me when you're on your break!”

You smile and shake your head, dialing up her number.

It rings a couple of times before your best friend picks up.

“Hey y/n!!” she yells excitedly

“Hey Hina,” you laugh, “What’s up?”

“Just wanted to remind you that we are going out tonight to celebrate my birthday, you still remember, right?”

“Oh, was that today?” you joke

“Y/N!!!”

“I’m kidding, I'm kidding, you know I'll be there” you shake your head

“Good! I'll also be inviting some of my friends from Uni, but I want us to hangout still. It’s been a while since we’ve actually caught up. And I'm finally gonna be able to come to your city!”

The both of you actually met during your first year in University through mutual friends. Even though you both were in different majors, you hit it off right away. And after that, the both of you always tried to make time to hang out, whether it was between classes, during lunch breaks, or whenever the both of you had the time.

However, it was sometimes hard to meet up during weekends, since she lived in the city next to yours, so whenever she had the chance to come to your city, or you were able to go to hers, you guys would always spend it together.

“Yeah, I guess with exams and all it was hard for us to actually see each other”

“Exactly, anyways I’m excited for tonight!”

“Yeah, me too..!”

“Hey, do you sound more tired than usual, or is it just me?” she asks you, sounding worried.

“Oh, it’s nothing, I just woke up super early today, not willingly though” you sigh, “don't even ask, I'll tell you about it later”

“Alright... if you say so”

“Anyways, I gotta get back to work now, so, I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“Alright! Dress sexy, okay? You promised we would dress up!”

“Yeah, yeah, I'll try my best” you both laugh before hanging up.

-~-~-

It was about 5 p.m when you finally reach your house, after leaving your part-time job, and finishing up some outdoor chores you had for the day.

You sigh as you get off the elevator to your floor.

You notice the empty hallway as you walk to your apartment; you suppose that the movers were already done and have left at this point.

You glance over to the door opposite yours at the end of the floor’s hallway.

‘I wonder if they're home yet...’ you think before you unlock the door of your apartment and go in.

You sigh as you place your groceries and bag on your kitchen island and start putting everything away.

You were supposed to meet Hina later tonight, at around 7 p.m, to celebrate her birthday. That meant you had a couple more hours to spend at home, so you decide to make some lunch/dinner and watch a movie on Netflix.

-~-~-

“Hey Hina, I’ll just go outside and answer this call real quick alright?” you try to call out to your friend as you get out of your chair, but she looks at you confused, the music playing loudly in the pub and the bustling of the people inside made it hard for her to hear your voice from across the table.

You point to your phone, and as realization hits her, she nods.

You attempt to make your way out of the pub, trying to worm between the people inside and make your way to the door. However, you suddenly run into someone before you reach the door, and accidentally drop their drink.

“I’m so sorry!” you tell them, looking up and noticing it was an old man, long white hair settling over his shoulders.

He looks annoyed at first but then his face relaxes when he sees you.

“I can pay for the drink!” you tell him apologetically.

“Oh, that’s alright, gorgeous, it was just a mistake” he answers you, smiling.

‘Okay...’ you think as you get a weird feeling in your gut.

“Would you like me to buy you-”

“Okay, Bye” you cut him off, smiling awkwardly, feeling uncomfortable with the way he was looking at you; you reach for the door and leave the pub.

It suddenly gets much quieter, and you feel yourself relax, finally being able to breathe.  

Honestly, you didn’t really get a call from anyone, you were just feeling tired, and wanted to take a break from all the noise.

You check the time on your phone,

11:54 P.M

You sigh, ‘I wanna go back home...’

It’s not that you weren’t having fun with Hina and her friends, but you were frankly not that close with them, and even though they are all very nice, having to be social for a long time takes a toll on your mental and physical strength sometimes.

Startled, you turn around when you hear the door of the pub open again behind you.

“Hey,” you hear Hina say as she approaches you, “is everything okay?”

“Yeah sorry, that was just my mom checking up on me” you lie to her, putting your phone back in your bag.

She nods, but you know she's slightly suspicious of your answer as she eyes you carefully

“You tired?” she asks you.

You chuckle nervously, ‘well, that didn’t take long’.

“Yeah, I'm really sorry, it’s getting late and it’s kind of been a long day”

She chuckles, “It’s okay, I thought your battery might have run out by now”

You couldn’t help but chuckle as well. Then you look at her apologetically.

“Yeah, I think I might head home for the night, is that alright with you?” you ask her, feeling bad you couldn’t stay longer.

She laughs and goes in to hug you goodbye, “You know it’s fine, I’m just glad I got to see you today! But, promise me we would hangout together again soon?”

You sigh, relieved, “you know I'd cancel any plans I have, just to see you” you shake your head as you hug her back.

“And promise me you’ll think about that date I wanna set you up on” she giggles as you both let go.

“Yeah, yeah, I'll think about it” you reply, used to her trying to set you up on these blind dates that you don’t necessarily really want to go to.

“Alright. You want me to call you a cab or walk you home?” she asks as you turn around and start leaving.

“No! It’s fine, my house is literally a couple of blocks away, go back! Have fun!” you say assuring her, and waving her to go back and hangout with her friends.

“Are you sure, y/n?”

“Yess! Go!” you tell her, and turn back around, walking away again.

-~-~-

After walking for a few minutes, you notice how quiet it was outside, except for the few open pubs you passed by earlier. I mean, it wasn’t really a huge surprise, it was getting pretty late, and almost all stores in the area were closed at that point. But, because you weren’t usually out that late at night all alone, it somehow made it feel even emptier and quieter.

You look up at the sky as you walk on the sidewalk and notice a few stars scattered along the night sky. It makes you smile and you close your eyes and take a deep breath.

‘I wonder how many of those are actually just satellites...’ you think to yourself as you open your eyes, and you can’t help but let out a small chuckle.

You feel your phone vibrate and notice you got a text message.

1 NEW MESSAGE

You open it.

FROM ‘Wifeyy <3’: “Heyy! Text me when you get home safe!”

You smile as you read the message, but then feel a sudden chill down your spine.

‘Weird...’

You put your phone down and suddenly start hearing faint footsteps behind you.

‘Alright, that’s fine... it’s just someone walking home as well’ you try to assure yourself but can’t help but still feel anxious.

After a few minutes, you still hear the foot steps behind you, slowly getting closer. That, somehow, making you feel more anxious.

‘I’m just overthinking this right?’

You try to increase your pace, to check if they really were following you. Even if they weren’t, you hope to try and lose them all together. It didn’t help that the way to your apartment would be to keep walking straight, and the alleys around the buildings on the way were blocked off at the ends, not making it any safer for you to try and find a way around.

But then you hear the person behind you increase their pace as well.

‘Fuck’ you think, feeling scared and panicked, ‘they're definitely following me, aren’t they?’

You panic as you think of what to do next, then decide to take out your phone and call someone.

‘Who the fuck do I call? Hina? The police? I-’

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear someone yell something from the sidewalk on the other side of the street you were walking on.

Your head snaps to where the voice came from and you notice a guy running up to you, “Babe?”

You try to back away before the boy reaches you, but, “I’ve been waiting for you, what took you so long?” he asks, pulling you in for a hug.

“I don’t know yo-!”

“Someone’s following you” he whispers in your ear before letting you complete your sentence.

Your heart stops when you hear him say that and you begin to feel your eyes tear up.

He pulls away, looking at you, and you suddenly notice you stopped hearing the footsteps coming from behind you.

You look back and see a man standing in the middle of the street, your eyes widen when you notice his long white hair.

‘That’s the fucking creepy old guy from the pub, I knew he seemed off!’

“My name is Suna. I was just in that supermarket over there, on the other side of the street, when I noticed him following you” he tells you quietly, as he subtly points at a store behind him. You look over his shoulder and notice a small, old looking supermarket, with an ‘Open 24/7′ neon light flickering over it. “Do you want me to walk you back home?” the boy asks you, and your eyes snap back to him.

You’re then able to see him much clearer, his pale, yellow eyes looking into yours. He had a blank expression on his face but you could hear a hint of worry in his voice.

You feel a tear roll down your cheek and you hesitantly nod at him.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I'm here” you hear him say as he puts an arm around you, pulling you closer, and walks with you in the direction you were originally going in.

After a few moments, you hear the footsteps behind you, again, but this time they started to sound more distant, as if the creepy, old guy was walking away.

Your heart starts calming down a bit as you both walk silently for a few minutes.

You then feel the boy remove his arm from around you and you slightly stumble.

‘Was he supporting me this whole time..?’ you think to yourself as you try to steady yourself back on your own feet.

He turns around, “I’m sure he’s gone by now” he tells you, looking back at you.

You turn around to check as well, and feel yourself finally be able to breathe again when you don’t see anyone behind you. You look back at the boy and nod.

“You live around here?” he asks you and you finally notice where you were.  

Realizing you were only about a block away from your house, you stop.

“What?” the boy asks as he turns around to face you, when he realizes you weren't walking next to him anymore.

“This is me” you answer quickly, pointing to a random building you were standing in front of.

He was nice enough to help you back there, so, it's not that you weren’t thankful, but you were still feeling a bit anxious, and you didn’t want to take any chances.

“Oh,” the boy says, looking up at the building you pointed to, then looks back to you, “I'll watch you go in” he continues, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Oh, uhm, okay..” you nervously say, turning to the building.

‘Shit... I hope the entrance door isn’t locked...’

You reach for the door and push it.

‘Oh, thank god...’ you sigh, relieved.

You quickly turn back to look at him again, and notice his eyes following you.

“Thank you”

He just nods at you, a blank expression still on his face.

You get inside the building and the door closes behind you. You weren’t sure if he was looking so you make your way to the elevators. You pretend you pressed a button, hoping he stopped looking at you through the glass door at that point.

You look behind you and notice he wasn’t there anymore, so you run slowly towards the door and see him walking away.

You place a hand on your heart, and sigh again. You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths.

‘Why does it feel like it’s been a really long night...?’

You decide to wait for a few minutes, making sure he wouldn’t still be around the area when you try to run to where you actually lived. It was probably a couple of buildings away so, if you make a quick run for it, you think, you would definitely make it.

You open the glass door slowly and take a quick peak around the street.

‘Nobody’s here...’

You take a quick breath before you make a run for it.

As you thought, it easily took you a minute or two to get to your building. You quickly push the entrance door and run to elevators.  

As soon as it arrives, you get in and press the floor you lived on.

A few moments pass before the elevator doors open and you can't help but breathe a sigh of relief as you’re welcomed with your usual empty, but now comforting hallway.

You step out and head for your apartment when you notice someone standing at the door opposite yours at the end of that hallway, trying to unlock it.

‘Oh, it’s probably the new tenant...’ you think as you walk to your door.

It was pretty silent so you decide to at least welcome them, hoping it would make the awkward silence less... awkward.

“Hey,” you say turning to face them when you get to your door, “You’re the new tenant, righ-” but you quickly stop and your eyes widen when the person turns around to face you.

‘Wait, isn’t he the guy that just walked me back ‘home’??’

He still carried a blank expression on his face, but you notice his eyes slightly widen when he notices who you were as well.

‘Fuck, Fuck, Fuck... What do I say?’ you panic as you both stand there, looking at each other.

“Oh, you live here?” he breaks the silence, sounding pretty calm.

“Oh, yeah,” you say turning around and quickly unlock your door and go in, “Goodnight!” you yell, panicked. 

You accidentally make eye contact with him one last time before you swiftly close the front door, leaving him there, looking blankly at your apartment door instead.

‘He’s my new neighbor??’

(HQ Masterlist)

[miracledemyaa]

Fall Semester Goals Update: August

Hello angels! Welcome back to my blog. A few months ago—June to be exact—I started my Fall Semester Goals Series. It was a two-part mini-series that detailed how I would raise my GPA and eventually make the Dean’s List! At the end of my second post, I told you all that I would do monthly updates on how it is going. It is now early September, so I will give some insight into my classes and how I feel about my professors and the coursework. I will also tell you how I’m managing my courses, sorority life, and other extracurriculars I enjoy in my free time! 

Academics

For some background info, The classes I am taking this semester are

♡ Bio 1108+Lab

♡ Math 1111 (College Algebra)

♡ History 2112 (U.S History)

♡ Psych 1101 

Although I have not been in school for a whole month yet, I found that I am not enjoying my major classes like I thought I would. I guess you could say that being a university student did not hit me until now. I started to think about my future, the type of life I want to live, and how my career could impact that. I want to pursue healthcare. So, I figured that the best way to follow that is to get a Pre-professional degree and eventually attend medical school. However, the specialties I am interested in have a terrible work-life balance. I have been debating on changing my major for months now, but I was always unsure. After thinking long and hard about the pros and cons, figuring out that I hate general biology, and about a week of praying, I figured out that I want to pursue Nursing! 

I have talked with my advisors about switching majors, and thankfully, a lot of the credits I have earned will transfer over. Because the timeframe for dropping classes at my university ended about a week ago, I will have to wait until the spring to officially switch my major to Nursing. In the meantime, I will have to continue taking my biology course and lab. 

Other than the fact that I am not enjoying what I am learning, my classes are great! I have professors that genuinely care about my success, and they are lenient with their grading policies. Most of my professors require attendance/participation, but I do not mind that too much. If anything, it motivates me to attend and pay attention in class on the days I feel lazy. 

The weight of my course load has not kicked in yet. So, I have not been able to figure out what study tips work the best yet, sadly. As of right now, my quizzes have been open note and syllabus-based. I will most likely have updated information on studying and a few study tips at the end of this month! So be on the lookout for that in my next post! ;) 

Sorority/Social Life

Because my university went back to “normal” this year, I have been busier than ever. Over the summer, God placed it on my heart to apply for a leadership position within my sorority, and I got it! As a result, I’ve been spending a lot of time with my sisters and our new members! We’ve also started our big/little process, so I’ve started hanging out with our new sisters one on one during the week in addition to seeing them every Sunday for their required meetings.

I have also been meeting new people around campus. Whether it’s in class, around campus, or other people in Greek life, I’ve been making a lot of new friends. I also started attending church 3-4 times a week as well! As you all can probably tell, I’ve been super busy these past three weeks haha. My schedule is jam packed, but I’ve been able to manage it well with the Notion page I created over the summer. Without Notion, I’m not sure how I would keep track of everything 😭

I hope you all enjoyed this post! I can’t wait to update you all next month on how things are going! I will most likely post some mood boards and pictures that have been keeping me motivated. Also, there might be a post breaking down how I use Notion, as well as a post detailing what I must keep in my uni bag at all times ;) Wishing you all a hot girl semester! Until next time! Xoxo

[kookoosbunnynose]

Ch.1 || Ch.2

Pairing: Neighbor!Jungkook/FWB!Jungkook x Artist!Reader

Genre: Slowburn, Smut, Angst, Humor

Word Count: 11.4k

Warnings: Cursing | Slutty Jimin, we love him | mentions of emotional abuse | large jungcock | dom!jungkook | dom/sub themes |a singular use of a sir kink | dirty talk, lots | oral (f recieving) | he so gentle uwu, and then he’s very not gentle lmao

Summary: You’re an art student in need of a partner for your new collaboration piece, who is there to help you but your new neighbor, Jeon Jungkook. You two paint together but leave with much more than a colorful canvas.

A/N: Hello! I know! Dumb bitch finally updated the fic lmao. but i’m really excited about this part and even more excited for the rest of the fic. If you haven’t read chapter 1 yet go read it! 

-----------------------------------

Thankfully, even though you didn’t get to bed by the time you wanted last night, after the whole ‘y/n is a dumbass and got locked out’ debacle, you woke up with enough time to take it slow this morning. Mornings like these were your favorite, no rush. Just you sitting at your vanity getting ready for your day, jamming along to whatever song comes on your shuffle, using various items as a makeshift microphone.

You’re in the heat of Colors by Halsey when there’s a knock at your door, you abruptly cut off your poorly tuned melody, feeling caught. You quickly finish the eyebrow you’re working on as you don’t want the person at the door to see you with the one and a half you’re currently sporting. Good enough.

You rush to your front door, careful not to let your fluffy socks make you slip on the linoleum. When you open the door only to be greeted by your fluffy haired neighbor. He looks good in the morning too? Well that’s just fucking peachy. You’re making this difficult Jeon.

“Good morning.” You smile trying to hide how distraught you are.

“Good morning, sorry to bug you” he smiles sheepishly. “I was just hoping I could steal an egg from you? We’re out.” He asks hopeful.

“Oh, yeah of course. Just a second.” You turn on your heels to grab an egg from the kitchen. When your face is hidden by the fridge door you take a second to take a deep breath before making your way back to him. “Just one?” You ask when you hand it to him.

“Yeah one’s good, thank you y/n.” He gives you a small bow and opens his door. “See you later.”

---

“Hello gorgeous.” Yoongi says as your trio approaches the counter.

“Morning handsome.” Jimin smirks and steps in front of you.

“I was talking to y/n.”

“Her?” He looks over his shoulder at you. “While I’m here? That doesn’t sound right.” He scrunches his nose as if he’s doing mental math.

“I’ll just get your usual started.” He says leaning to the side so he can see your face.

“Thank you.” You laugh at them swipe your card and take the blueberry muffin he slides your way. You step to the side and wait for your boys to order their drinks.

“Remind me why we still come here.” Joon asks the two of you as you make your way to the pick-up end of the counter.

“Because we’ve been doing it since we started uni. We’re old and stuck in our ways, Joonie. There’s no backing out now.” You reply woefully.

“What are we? Boomers? We can go to a different coffee shop.” Namjoon furrows his brows.

“Order for Sweets!” A now familiar boxy smiled boy behind the counter says.

“Oh no we can’t. Not anymore.” Jimin says his attention caught by Tae.

“Look who wants to fuck the neighbors now!” You whisper yell at them before stepping toward the counter.

“Ha! You admit it!- Wait, neighbor?” You hear Jimin behind you.

“Hi Tae! Thank you.”

“Hello y/n!” He smiles and leans in to make his voice hushed. “If you don’t mind me asking, are you and Yoongi a thing? He covers like half your bill and calls you pet names everyday.” He lists off the, admittedly odd, circumstances of your relationship. 

“Oh, no we’re not. We just flirt back and forth. I think if he had any real intention behind it he would’ve asked me out by now, in my experience he’s pretty straight forward.” You chuckle.

“Ah okay. Would you want him to ask you out?”

“I did in the beginning but it’s been well over a year. As far as he goes, I’m sated with just the flirting.” 

“Ah, I see.” He turns away to grab the next two cups. “Orders for Jimin and Namjoon!” He calls over.

“Why do you ask?”

He pauses for a second. “I was just curious, he’s kinda like that with a couple girls but you seem to be his favorite.”

“Well it’s been a while, seniority I guess.” You shrug and your counterparts join you at the counter. “Oh how rude of me, these are my roommates. This is Taehyung.”

“Ah, nice to meet you, I’ll probably be seeing you guys a lot. I’m across the hall pretty often.” You all chuckle. “I wish I could talk longer but I don’t want to hold up the line, see you!” He smiles. 

The three of you give various forms of a goodbye as you leave to find your usual table. 

“Okay, is no one gonna say it?” Jimin says once you’re seated and safely out of ear shot.

“Say what?” Namjoon asks scrunching his face at his hot coffee.

“What do you mean ‘say what?’” Jimin says blinking slowly at your brother. “What is in those boys’ cheerios?” 

“Fiber?”

“No! You fucking tree!” 

“Y/n really? Now he’s calling me that, too?” You shrug.

---

You take a breath in as you walk into the art studio, the smell of paint and pencil lead tickling your nose. You take your usual seat at a large table and check your phone for your list of assignments. The professor sends you a large list of all the assignments at the beginning of the semester. Giving students the freedom to choose what order they do them in, the only stipulation is that you must have half turned in by midterms and the other half by the end of the semester. A much more doable lesson plan than a lot of your past professors. Being forced to be creative is draining and doesn’t get you far.

You scan down the list of possibilities until you find one that catches your eye. Monochromatic self portrait (any color)? No. Pretend you have synesthesia and illustrate your favorite song? Eh, not today. Collaboration piece? Ugh, I can’t even if I wanted to. I need to find someone to work with. Create 5 random custom colors and paint a landscape using only those colors (5”x5”)? Sounds like I could get that done before I leave. Perfect.

You pop in your earbuds and get to work. Deciding acrylic would be best for a quick painting, you grab a pallet and a sizable glob of each of the primary colors along with black and white. A little red here, a little yellow there, and some white for this one. You continue putting in different combinations until you have five colors you’re happy with not worrying if they’ll make sense for scenery. Fuck it. Who says trees can’t be purple? 

As you dip your brush into your small selection of paints and watch the way the colors glide onto the canvas, it makes a sense of ease wash over you. Breathing life into a piece no matter how simple creates a new little reality in it’s own right. Expands our universe one brush stroke at a time. In the least cringy art kid way possible, of course.

You continue your work, mouthing along to your music as you go. Rust tinted grass and a peachy sky coming together in a way that definitely isn’t realism but ends up having a sunset feel due to the warm hues you chose. Just a few touch ups here and there and you’re done.

You pack up your things and head home with your new little creation to dry completely overnight. It’s already mostly dry but the textured parts still have a way to go. 

---

  “I really need to go grocery shopping. Thank you again, y/n.” Bunny teeth shining as he leaves your apartment with a mug of tea in place of the hot water he showed up with.

Today is day… eight? Of a new routine has developed over the course of the week. Everyday without fail, whether it be morning or evening, an egg or a cup of milk. Jungkook comes over and asks for a small food item, thanks you, and returns home. No big deal, but it’s apparent that those idiots really need to restock their fridge. It’s like having a stray cat that comes around every night after you feed it once. A really big stray cat… with pretty hair, and a cute lip mole, that always smells like fresh laundry and citrus… anyway-

Time to officially start the day and pretend that little mental tangent didn’t just happen. Go team!

You finish doing some light makeup and throw on some ripped mom jeans and a black hoodie. Enough effort to look like you care, but still comfy. You throw your bag over your shoulder, slip your boots on and head out the door.

Finding parking on campus at this time of day is a nightmare and usually takes longer than just walking since you live just off school grounds. So you make your short walk and stop by the cafe by yourself. You usually go alone only once a week; there’s only one day where you’re the only one of your roomies to have a morning class. 

You order, give Tae his morning hello and make your way to class. 

Classes pass with relative ease. You listen and take notes; taking notes more so meaning doodling along the margins of your notebook than anything else. Really putting those scholarships to good use. 

Art history, meeting with the theater department about painting props, studio, home. 

You enter your apartment and are met with Jimin and Namjoon sitting on the couch about to start the obligatory bi-monthy screening of Your Name. 

“Hey! Were you gonna start the movie without me?” You kick off your shoes and take a running leap onto your spot on the couch.

“No! We were waiting for you, we’re not monsters.” Namjoon retorts in defense.

“That’s exactly what someone who wasn’t waiting for me would say.” You narrow your eyes at your little brother at the other end of the couch.

“Would you two stop bickering for two seconds. It’s starting.” Jimin puts a hand over both your mouths from his spot between you.

“Sheesh, grumpy pants.” You grumble when he lowers his arms.

The movie is filled with the same sobs and ‘awe’s that it always is, always ending in tears for at least one of you. Breathtaking animation coupled with a heart wrenching story, no matter how many times you watch it, it never fails to amaze. As much as you would’ve loved more closure at the end of the movie, the ambiguous ending couldn’t be more poetic. 

“Joonie, what would you do if we switched bodies?” You turn to your brother as the credits roll.

“Probably get a discounted coffee.” He deadpans.

“Oh, you’re no fun!”

“More money in my bank account sounds very fun.” 

Your retort cut off by a knock at the door from your neighbor for his daily snack, so you settle for throwing the pillow sitting in your lap in his direction as you stand. Which he tries to swat away only to end up with a faceful of cushion. Ha, get got bitch.

“Do you need an egg?” You say as you open the door.

“Uh- No I’m good? Thank you for asking.” Tae chuckles, you freeze your eyes widening.

“Oh my god, I thought you were Jungkook.” You let out a stiff laugh and shuffle your feet in embarrassment. “Anyway, what brings you all this way?” You joke, attempting to alleviate a bit of the blush on your cheeks.

“I just wanted to see if you’d wanna chill with us tonight? We had a lot of fun last time. Nothing special, but I wanted to see if you were up for it.” He smiles. “You guys are more than welcome to join too if you’d like!” He shouts over your shoulder at the boys sitting on the couch when he notices them sitting there.

“Nah we’re good Jimin and I have a test in the morning, and if I don’t force him to study with me he’ll fail.” Namjoon says from the couch

“I would not!” Jimin turns to him offended.

“Okay, I’ll study alone then.”

“No, please help me.” He deflates.

“See.” Joon smirks. “Thank you for the offer though!” He calls over to Tae.

“No problem, next time?”

“Next time.” He echoes.

“I’ll hold you to it.” He points a slender finger in your brother’s direction. “What about you, y/n? Are you down?” He directs his attention back to you.

“Right now?”

“If that works for you, Kook will be back from work shortly, it’ll just be Hobi and I for a little bit.” 

“Yeah, sounds good to me.” You smile. “Just let me go grab a couple things real quick and then I’m good to go!”

You scurry to your bedroom and take a look at yourself in the mirror, evaluating the damage the day has done to your makeup. Not bad. You give the apples of your cheeks a quick squeeze to bring back a little color, scramble to find your tinted lip balm, and fluff up your hair a little. There we go. Cute. Now to find something to bring with me so this little panicked face check isn’t a complete lie. Phone charger is good.

With your phone charger in hand and a revived complexion you head back out. 

“Thanks for waiting.” Tae gives you a nod and you smile while you give your boys a wave as you walk out the door.

You walk into the boys apartment and are immediately greeted by a wagging Bread who you kneel to give a plethora of loves, giggling when he hops up and tries to kiss your face.

“Hey y/n!”

“Hey Hobi!” You say as you follow Tae over to the couch with Bread right on your heels. 

“Glad you decided to join us. Kook will be here soon, he left work not long ago.” 

“I gave her the run down before we came over.” Tae smiles.

“How have classes and shit been?” You ask them

“Not ideal. I pulled a muscle in my leg.” Hobi rubs his calf. “With a big performance coming up on friday, but the show must go on, you know.” He shrugs.

“Oh shit dude, will you be okay?”

“He does this at least once a semester.” Tae says waving it off, used to his friend pushing through his injuries. 

“Yeah, it sucks for a bit but I’ll have some wiggle room to rest after this test.” He reassures.

“Okay good, just don’t die.” You chuckle.

“I’ll try not to.” He laughs.

“I’ve been doing a few surveys for my psych classes, would you mind if I get some data from you?” Tae looks to you, taking full advantage of the small lull in conversation.

“Tae no.” Hobi’s face falls and he rubs his temples.

“Do you find Chuck E. Cheese fuckable?” He asks, a genuine question mark in his eyes.

You blink. “What the hell kind of psych classes are you taking?”

“Just answer the question, y/n.”

You look at Hobi for some sort of answer, though you’re not even sure what your question is. “You’re gonna have to just answer him, he’s been on about it all day.” 

“Fucking of course not. Why on earth would I want to fuck a rat? And even if I did, why would I want to fuck a robotic rat roughly the size of an entire kindergarden class?” 

“First of all, he’s a mouse.” Tae corrects. “Second of all, THANK YOU!” He throws his arms up and flops against the back of the couch. “One kid in my class started this somehow and the room was surprising split. About forty percent of the people in that room said ‘Charles Entertainment Cheese’ was sexy! It got pretty heated, people were yelling that the opposing side that we ‘just couldn't handle his raw sexual power.’” He says exasperated with overdone air quotes. “So I’ve been asking everyone all day because I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I suppose I can see how that would plague your mind.” You laugh.

“Anyway!” Hobi interjects, clearly tired of the subject. “How are your things going, y/n?” 

You chuckle at his wide eyes. “They’ve been good. I’ve been spending more time in the studio with midterms coming up. But I need to find someone to work with me on a collab piece. I wanna have it in by midterms so I don’t have to worry about it during finals.” you sigh at the thought. 

“Awh, I would help with that but I already did that assignment and I’m not sure if they’d let me do it again with someone else?” Tae says with a small frown.

“I’d offer but the only thing I am versed in is drawing stick figures and arguably anatomically incorrect dicks.” Hobi chuckles.

“Thanks you guys.” You smile. “It’s alright though, I might just ask Jimin to get drunk and throw some paint at a canvas with me.”

“Hey! This reminds me, a couple days ago when you got coffee you promised you’d show me some of your work when we hung out next.” Tae looks at you sternly, arms tight across his chest. “The time has come Miss y/n.” 

“Ah, I suppose I did.” You say as you grab your phone to show him your album of a bunch of your work. “Okay, but I’m no Van Gogh. Go easy on me.” You warn before you hand over your device to him; you always get a little nervous when you show people your art for the first time.

“Hey hey! None of that nonsense! If the way you talk about art is any consolation, then I’m sure the passion alone is enough to make it beautiful.” Tae gives you a stern look followed by a reassuring smile.

“Do you want me to cry? Because this is how you make me cry.” You chuckle and relent your collection of work over to him for them to inspect. 

They open the first photo and you’re met with a mixture of a ‘holy shit’ from Hobi and a ‘wow’ from Tae, their reactions make you smile and your face heat up. 

“These are amazing y/n!” Hobi says as Tae swipes through.

“Thank you guys so much, really.” You say blushing and all but clutching your chest.

You watch their faces intently as they go through, Tae stopping every so often to zoom in and inspect a certain brushstroke that catches his eye. They get toward the end of the photoset when you hear a key in the front door. You’re the only one to turn your head to see Jungkook walk into the apartment. He sets his keys down on the table next to the entrance and his feet stutter a little when he sees you on the couch with his friends. 

“Hey Kook! Y/n was just showing us some of her art, dude she’s so talented!” Hobi calls over his shoulder.

“It’s really good, you should come take a look.” Tae adds, and you laugh nervously.

“That’s so awesome, I will.” He says looking at you with a smile. “I just need to talk to Tae, for a quick second.” He says turning his gaze toward him and tilting his head toward the hall. 

“Oh, is it about that thing?” Tae grits his teeth and sucks in sharp breath.

“Yes, exactly, the thing.” He confirms vaguely, looking relieved.

“Is everything okay?” You furrow your brows and look at each of them.

“He just has a rash, no worries.” Tae tells you in a hushed tone as he stands up. All you can do is blink in response. Jungkook lets out an exaggerated laugh as they disappear into the dark hallway and out of sight.

Once they are safely in the other room Jungkook flicks Tae in the forehead. 

“Ow!” Tae gasps.

“What the fuck was that for?!” Jungkook whisper yells at his idiot of a best friend.

“I was covering for you!”

“You could’ve said literally anything else! I don’t even have a rash!”

“She doesn’t know that!”

“Exactly, you fuck!” Jungkook whispers flicking him again. “Why is she here?! You didn’t warn me!”

“This is what I get for trying to help you?” Tae says rubbing his forehead with a pout.

“Hey! I was handling it just fine on my own!”

“Oh yeah, your plan to slowly raid the entire contents of her fridge was going so great!”

“I just thought!... I thought we would eventually talk or... something?” Jungkook says realizing maybe it wasn’t the best plan in the world. “That’s how my parents used to get to know our neighbors, they’d borrow each others sugar and shit.”

“It’d be easier to talk to her if you just hung out with her and I invited her over for you. You’re welcome! And your parents weren’t trying to fuck your neighbors, were they! Different goal calls for different strategy.” 

“Dude gross, I hope not.” Jungkook scrunches his nose. “And I don’t… just wanna fuck her.”

“Aww, does Googie have a bigger crush than we thought he did.” Tae teases pinching his cheek.

“Fuck you. But thanks I guess… just warn me next time, will you?” Jungkook relents.

“You got it.” Tae says patting him on the shoulder. “I’m only kinda sorry though!” He whispers as he slips out the door. Jungkook follows him to join all of you in the living room.

“Sorry about that.” Jungkook smiles at you as he and Tae take their places next to you on the couch. 

“No worries.” You assure.

“Kook you should take a look at her work, I think you’d like it.” Hobi says passing your phone over to him and your face heats up a little. “I was just telling y/n how you were really artsy in high school.” 

“Oh, it was nothing.” Jungkook waves him off as he starts to look through the photos and stopping a little longer on ones that catch his eye. 

“It wasn’t nothing.” Tae interjects. “Actually y/n, you mentioned needing a partner for that collab piece? Since I can’t assist, I’m sure Jungkook could help you out.” Tae gestures to the two of you.

“Oh no, I couldn’t ask him to do that for me.” You shake your head, looking at both their faces.

Jungkook tilts his head to the side for a second. “I wouldn’t mind at all, it would be fun. I might be a little rusty though.” He says with worried eyes.

“Really? you wouldn’t mind?” You light up. “That would help me out a ton. I’ve been stressing over that piece for weeks.”

“I’d be happy to.” He smiles bright. “I’m off on Saturday, we could work on it then. If that works for you, of course.” 

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” You reach out to shake his hand, effectively sealing the deal. “Thank you so much.” you say and squeeze his hand a little.

“So Kook, I’m collecting data for my psych class-” Tae takes this opportunity to stain your moment of gratitude.

“I already told you, I’m not fuckin’ rats!” Jungkook cuts him off.

“He’s not a rat!”

“Which side are you on?!”

---

“Did I call it? Or did I call it?” Jin looks at you with his stupid smug ass face.

“Listen! It’s nothing!” You throw that damp rag you’re wiping down a table with in his direction.

“It’s not nothing! I can smell your pent up sexual frustration for him from here. You guys are gonna be alone for several hours making art together? What is he, Swayze?”

“Men and women can be platonic friends! You’re not thinking very progressively here, old man.”

“Of course, men and women can be platonic friends.” He says gesturing at the air between you. “But you and what’s his fuck, Junglebook, you said? You two, cannot.” 

“Your lack of faith in me is astounding.” 

“I wouldn’t call it a lack of faith in you, more of an educated assumption… And a lack of faith in both of you.” He smirks. Asshole.

“Fuck you.” You deadpan.

“You know you love me y/nie.” He blows you a kiss.

“You’re lucky I do.”

---

You: I can bring the supplies over whenever you’re ready, just lemme know! Thank you for letting me come over there, it would be hard for creative juices flowing with Joon hovering over us all night. Trying to figure out a deep psychological reason for me painting a flower yellow lmao

You: Oh! And wear clothes you don’t mind getting paint on, stains are inevitable :)

And send. 

Okay listen to me you dumb bitch. You can do this. We got this. For fuck sake why are you so nervous? Pull yourself together! Just enough to prove Jin and Jimin wrong. Do it just to rub it in their faces! Fuck. What are you 12? We can hang out alone with him. This is stupid. I’m stupid. It’s fine. Everything is fine! Shut up.

Tight Buns McCute-Dog: You can come over now, I’m just gonna change real quick, the door is unlocked! (: 

After receiving that reply, instead of him just cancelling, you were relieved he was still willing to help you. However it didn’t help the whole sweating from your ass cheeks with nerves, thing. So overall about the same. Great. 

Doing an abstract painting in these mental conditions will result in accidentally painting several phallic shapes. A Freudian Slip of the wrist if you will. 

After a couple deep breaths, effectively shoving half your feelings deep into the crevices of your mind, and changing his contact name, just for good measure. You grab all the supplies you’ll need and walk across the hall. 

You struggle to open your door while balancing your small box of acrylics, easel and canvas in your arms. Deciding to abandon your easel in the hall for a second while you knock on your neighbor’s door a couple times before you turn the knob. 

Bread is already eager and yipping at you for attention while you attempt to bring everything in and set it up to the side of the living room adjacent to the kitchen. 

---

Jungkook opens your texts and mouths a small ‘oh shit’ not wanting to keep you waiting, but quickly regretting his decision to work out right before he saw you. He wanted to look a little extra muscley but didn’t consider that he’d be a sweaty mess after doing so. 

He settles for telling you he’s changing and hopes you take a few minutes to gather your things so he can blow dry his hair a little. 

Your presence in his apartment is made known when he hears his dog barking and scuttling around. He gives his hair a quick tousel, throws on one of his many black hoodies and a little spritz of cologne. 

Jungkook emerges from his bedroom to find you fumbling with your easel. Cute. 

“Do you need help?” he asks through a giggle.

“Nope! Got everything a hundred percent under control over here.” Your sentence punctuated by your canvas falling to the floor. “Shit.”

“Allow me.” he says handing you the canvas.

“Thank you.” you breath and run a hand through your hair. 

“So what’s the plan? I hope you’re not expecting any Sistine Chapel level work from me.” he chuckles.

“A bunch of naked babies and a priest with the ears of an ass? I appreciate that you don’t bring that to the table.” you raise your brows. 

“Point taken.” 

“The plan is no plan. I mean I wanted to go for something abstract because it’s fun and doesn’t require a lot of brain power. Just put the brush where you think it should go.” you mime a couple brush strokes in the air.

“Sounds easy enough, paint from the heart.” he confirms, patting his chest for emphasis. 

“Oh, I did think one of us could be in charge of warm colors and tints, and the other could do cool colors and shades, and see where that takes us.” you look up expectantly, hoping he likes your almost-plan.

“Sounds interesting.” He looks at the empty canvas, eyes scanning for possibilities. “Which do you want?” 

“I’m partial to cool colors, myself.” 

“Then today, I’m partial to warm.” he smirks. “So are we just feeling what we feel in the moment or is there an emotion we’re trying to convey?” He turns to you, eyes expectant. 

You pause for a second, unsure if you should abandon the theme you were pondering for this piece before you knew Jungkook would be your partner in creation. “Is it too cliche if the theme was ‘love’?” You ask him hesitantly. Immediately regretting not just saying ‘nah man, just throw paint at that bitch.’ 

But much to your surprise. 

“Not at all, it’s a ‘cliche’ for a reason.” He states nonchalantly. “Love is powerful. Whether it’s the painful bit or the part that makes you feel untouchable.” 

A certain fondness hits his eyes that tells you he’s speaking from experience but you don’t pry.

“I’m glad you like the idea.” you smile, relief filling you after he doesn’t exhibit any signs of being uncomfortable. 

He claps his large palms together. “Shall we get started, Miss y/n?” His gaze once directed at the blank canvas, now fully on you. 

“Choose your weapon, Mr. Jungkook.” You feign a serious tone, giving him a small handful of various brushes. Keeping a few of your favorites for yourself. 

You push your box paints toward him indicating he can grab what he likes. Normally you’re a bit protective over your art supplies, seeing as not only are they stupid expensive, but you care for your tools a lot. You wouldn’t let your klutzy brother within a ten foot radius of your things when you were growing up and even now your blood boils if he’s anywhere near your expertly sorted colored pencils. But Jungkook is always gentle and seeing the way he meticulously places small globs of white, reds, and yellows onto his palette, you know you’ve made a good choice in trusting him. 

He steps slightly back letting you put the first ceremonial brush stroke of charcoal black diagonally across the upper most half of your canvas. He joins shortly after deciding to start with white in contrast with your black, laying down some bases for shapes and choosing to run his brush through to disturb the various lines you’ve made, dragging the two tones into a fading grey. 

As your mind wanders towards the way his slender tattooed fingers wrap delicately around the paint brush you quickly come to the conclusion that it’s time to play some background music. Absentmindedly sticking the handle of the brush between your teeth to grab your phone and open your music library.

“What kind of music do you like?” You turn to him, the thin strip of wood in your mouth giving you a slight lisp. 

“I’m not picky, play whatever you want.” he says warmly but his brow still furrowed with concentration while he finishes up his base layer. 

As his answer didn’t do much in the way of helping your quest, you opted for the safety of one of those throwback playlists spotify procures for their listeners, the 90’s one to be exact. Everybody loves some good nostalgia, and it may aid in the sincerity of your painting. Past emotions and whatnot. 

The first song that comes on after you hit shuffle is Heart-Shaped Box by Nirvana and you hum in content. Jungkook on the other hand is pleasantly taken aback by your song choice. 

“Oh shit yeah! I love Nirvana!” He smiles brightly, taking his crinkling eyes off his work for the first time since you started. 

“Everybody loves Nirvana.” you tease him and roll your eyes at the possibility of him being one of those frat boys that ‘misses Kurt Cobain so much’ but can only name Smells Like Teen Spirit and maybe Aneurysm if you’re lucky. 

Jungkook, sensing your tone, smirks and runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “You think so, huh?” he bemuses, rolling up his sleeve to uncover this inked skin. Across his forearm is a quote reading ‘rather be dead than cool,’ a lyric from their song Stay Away. He watches you with a quirked brow.

“I stand corrected.” you hold your hands up in defense. Trying not to let the way his inked skin hugs his veins increases your heart rate become too apparent on your features. “You do indeed love Nirvana.” your emphasis on the word being placed differently this time.

“Never doubt me again y/n.” He eyes you suspiciously. “I’ll get more tattoos just to spite you.” He narrows his eyes to add validity to his semi-empty threat.

“I will never doubt you again, scouts honor.” you say playfully saluting him. 

“Now start the song over. Your lack of faith in me, made me miss half the song.” he points a finger at your phone.

“I can’t, I don’t have premium.” you let out a heavy sigh.

“What?! That’s dumb. You suffer through those god awful ads?” He screws his face up in disgust. 

“Eh, I don’t mind too much.” You shrug. “I don’t wanna spend the extra money every month.” 

“Okay, I guess that’s fair.” He squints at you as you pick up your brush again. “Why don’t you just use my account? I’ll text you my login.” He says fishing for his phone in his pocket. 

“That’s completely unnecessary.” You laugh, and wave for him to stop. “You’re already helping me out so much with this.” you gesture to the now less blank canvas in front of you.

“I really don’t mind. What’s the worst that could happen? We expand our music libraries? Oh no!” he pretends to gasp and you roll your eyes. “And besides, I’ll sleep better at night knowing I saved a soul from those creepy ass vitamin water commercials.” He chuckles.

“You really don’t have to.” Your eyes softening at his seemingly endless stream of kindness. 

“Already sent you the login, too late.” he says, sucking in a breath as if to say ‘what a shame.’

“Thank you, Jungkook.” you say as you gently grab his forearm and run your thumb over it.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles. “Back to work now!” he declares, sticking his paint brush, that at some point in your conversation tucked it’s way behind his ear, into his small mountain of yellow. 

You work like this together for a while. Humming along to your music, that is now playing off Jungkook’s phone after he insisted he didn’t wanna hear ‘Colonel Suck-My-Ass’ sing about his chicken deals one more time. The two of you working together seamlessly; the way you blend your colors and make textures complimenting each other nicely. Switching sides of the canvas every so often so it remains balanced. 

After about an hour of being immersed in your work Jungkook turns to you. “Noodle break?” He asks you frowning at his empty tummy.

Your brush stutters on the canvas at his words, your stomach not realizing it’s been hours since you’ve eaten until he mentions food. “That sounds wonderful, actually.” 

“One or two packets?” he asks making his way into the kitchen.

“Just one is good.” you smile, setting your brush into your cup of water. You follow him into the kitchen. “Where do you store your liquid?” you ask standing between the pantry and the fridge, looking lost.

“Fridge.” he answers giving his approval to let you grab the two of you some drinks.

“I see you guys finally went grocery shopping.” you chuckle at the butter and cartons of eggs in his fridge.

“What?- oh right, yeah. Finally dragged Hobi out earlier today.” His smile not quite meeting his eyes while he opens up three packets of ramen, and waits for the water to boil. 

“Can I steal a soda?” 

“Yeah, just not the sprite. Hobi can and will throw a fit.” his tone far more serious than the situation calls for.

“Well damn, okay.” you say and grab a coke for both of you. 

“Thank you.” He smiles and your fingertips brush perhaps a little too long when you hand him his drink. 

He pulls the tab, puts the cold metal to his lips and you watch the way his throat bobs up and down with every swig. When you feel yourself staring your ears heat up, and turn your gaze to the water starting to roll in the pot. 

As Jungkook is finishing up cooking the ramen, the song changes to Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls, you let out a small gasp and start to sing along. He smiles at your apparent love for the song and starts to harmonize with you to encourage you to keep going. Which, much to his dismay, did the exact opposite.

“Jeon Jungkook!” you scold. “I didn’t know you had such a beautiful voice!” 

“It’s alright, I guess.” He breathes out and rubs the back of his neck a little embarrassed. “You’re not too bad yourself.” He looks at you with those big doe eyes. And you swear you’ll only look at them for a couple more seconds, as not to fall under their spell. A half hearted oath at best. 

But you start to sing again, you tell yourself it’s to make the most of the song while it’s on but really, you just want to hear honeyed voice hit your ears again. And it does, eyes closed tightly and mouth wide to control his sound. You can’t hold a tune to save your life but the way he carries your sounds with his, it doesn’t matter. Your song is beautiful.

After your musical interruption, you take your bowls to the table and slurp away at your noodles. All the while Bread is at your heels begging ever so sweetly, which Jungkook scolds but ultimately ends up throwing him a noodle when his bowl is just about gone. 

You take your bowl to the sink but when you start rinsing Jungkook comes over to push you out of the way so he can take care of it himself. You stand your ground for a minute but lose the silent argument due to his advantage of stature. You mutter a small ‘fuck you’ before you return to the canvas, and he smiles contently to himself.

Jungkook joins you back at your station, stepping back for a moment to assess where the two of you left off and what he’d like to add. He lets his eyes run over the varying sized lines and the way they come together but also fight one another in some spots. Some colors as bright as the sun and others look like the depths of the ocean. All coming together in a way that only really makes sense to the two of you. 

You finished what was left of your drink and picked up your brush, dipping straight into your black paint for the second time since you started like you were on a mission. You drew a fluid line near the center curving over a few existing splotches, near the end of your brush stroke it became jagged and split off into several directions. A pessimist would call it a shatter, an optimist would call it several opportune paths, and a realist would probably just call it a painting. But Jungkook did none of those things.

“Y/n, have you ever been in love?” He asked as if he had only asked what time it was. He started swirling some colors together while he waited for an answer.

You blinked, trying not to show how much that question shocked you. “I suppose…” you breathed, actually struggling to come up with a real answer. “I mean, last time I was in a serious relationship was in highschool.” You trailed off. “I don’t know if I can say I’ve been in love but I’ve loved someone before… I feel like being in love sticks with you in a different way. More of a life experience than a life lesson.” You scrunched up your face a little, hoping he’d be satisfied with your answer even though you yourself weren’t.

He nodded, taking in your words. “I think being in love can be just as much a life lesson as ‘lesser relationships,’ if not more so.” He adds putting air quotes as not to come across the wrong way. “But hopefully you end up with more positive lessons than not.”  

“Yeah, you’re right. Like learning how you love and need to be loved. What you deserve and what you won’t put up with. Learn to let yourself be loved-” You stop your word vomit after that last comment, feeling a bit vulnerable. “Those kinds of things?” you let out a little laugh.

“Exactly.”

“Is it fair to assume that you have?” You question, hesitating slightly.

“That I have what?” 

“Been in love, dummy.” You laugh, strategically placing a light green around the canvas.

He pauses slightly. “Yeah, I have.” The same fondness that found his eyes earlier that day sets in again. Not in a painful or bitter way, you noted. But in the way you’d regard your favorite childhood memory.

“I didn’t rub salt in a wound, did I?” you tensed slightly incase you read him wrong.

“No no, you’re fine!” He reassures. “It was a long time ago. Don’t get me wrong, it hurt like a bitch in the moment, but as they say, time heals all wounds.” he shrugs.

“Can I ask what happened?” You prompted, feeling a little braver this time.

“Well you know, same old story with high school sweethearts.” He paused to fix a spot he didn’t like. “She was a year older than me. She left for university. We tried long distance and after a few months we decided it was too hard. Nothing particularly spectacular.” He tells the story, for what you can tell is at least the thousandth time. “What about you and Mr. Not-Quite-In-Love?”

“Nothing, super special either. Unfortunately, the lessons I learned from him were less than positive. After the initial honeymoon phase, he didn’t treat me the best. Looking back I learned to know the level of respect I deserve, but in the moment his lack of just made me desperate to ‘earn’ it. It was a vicious cycle for about a year but things ended and I grew up. And like you said, ‘time heals all wounds.’” Jungkook looked at you with furrowed brows, not sure if he wants to hug you or the seventeen year old girl you used to be who would see herself as anything less than what she was. But he settled for the former.

He wrapped his arms around you, taking you by surprise. But you accept his embrace and smile against his shoulder. “I’m okay now Jungkook.” You giggle. “It was a long time ago and I learned from it.”

He pulls away. “I know, I’m just sorry it took that dickbag for you to know your worth.” he gives you a sheepish smile, and a fire in his eyes dulls when he looks at you.  

“Thank you, you’re very sweet.” you pat his arm before you both turn back to your respective parts of the canvas. 

“Hey, just cause I’m not a complete asshole, doesn’t mean I’m sweet.”

“I’m holding firm at you’re sweet, and you can’t change my mind.” You both laugh and return your full attention back to your work.

Your rhythm returns to where it was before you ate. Both of you humming along to whatever song is playing at the moment, using your paint brushes as microphones if a particularly good song came on. Exchanging a few words here and there. Each admiring the small things the other chooses to add to the work of art. You noticed Jungkook has a habit of biting his lips when he’s concentrating. Cute. 

Now here you finally are after another hour of blending, layering, and tweaking. Both of you put down your brushes down and stepped back slightly to admire what you’ve created. Letting out a sigh at your hard work, taking in the finalized piece. The way the colors run together or bump into one another. The juxtaposition of fluid lines being interrupted by jagged edges. The way the soberness of the colors you put down calm and soothe the firey and vibrant ones he laid down for you.

Ordinarily, when you finish a painting, you never quite feel done. There’s always one more thing you could fix, one more stroke you could add. But not this time. It’s finished. Breathtaking in a simple way. You’ve never felt such a sense of completeness when you set your brush down, and you can’t help but feel you have Jungkook to thank for it. The way his colors and brush work complemented yours was… for lack of a better term, a work of art. 

---

Jungkook puts down his brush, watching you lay down your final touches. Truth be told he’d been watching you out of the corner of his eye the entire time. Checking in on you every so often when you’d put down your tool and furrow your brows in concentration. Smiling when you’d absentmindedly mumble to yourself about what you’re doing. He was in awe of how much of yourself you put down on the canvas, not entirely sure what wordless stories you were telling meant. Though that didn’t stop him from taking the puzzle pieces you laid down and arranging them into a y/n shaped jigsaw in his mind. Perhaps your fondness of calming colors was to tame the wild fire he could see within you. 

And just as quickly as you’d started, you were done, setting your brush down and smiling at what you saw in front of you. 

“Thank you so much, Jungkook.” You breathe still taking in the painting. “It’s beautiful.” 

“Yeah, it is.” He says just above a whisper, never taking his eyes off your beaming profile. 

“Hm?” You turn to him. He looks into your eyes, once filled with fire are now a calm ocean. His gaze shifts to your lips after they form a confused pout at his silence, his body leading his brain when he leans toward you.

It’s now or never.

He leans in further looking into your eyes for any sign of apprehension before he cups your jaw in his paint stained hand. Finally taking the leap all at once when you lean into his touch. 

His lips are even softer than you imagined when they meld against yours. He pulls away slightly to look at you a question mark across his features. You put your hands flush against his hard chest and answer his question by reconnecting your lips with his with fervor and you feel him smile against you. He deepens the kiss, putting his free hand on your hip to pull you closer to his warm body. 

He swipes his tongue along your bottom lip, testing the waters further. You mirror his action, noting that his lips taste faintly of strawberries. You slide your hands into his soft hair and curl your fingers into fists against his scalp making him groan into your mouth. 

His hand that held its feather like touch against your face leaves it’s place to join his other around your waist. His hands squeezing harshly at your hips, his fingers digging into the strip of skin your shirt rode up to expose, making you shiver against him despite your rising temperature. 

He pulls away to place sloppy kisses along your jaw, nudging your jaw with his nose gently to gain access to your neck. You suck in a breath when you pull him closer causing his teeth to graze your pulse point as his swollen lips leave rosey marks in their wake. He sucks harshly at the soft spot below your ear causing your nerves to flare and a moan to escape your lips. He groans in satisfaction at the way his actions affect you, running his hot tongue over your skin to soothe the marks he made. 

His hands move higher on your abdomen slipping just under the hem of your shirt, making you tense slightly under his calloused palms, he feels your shift and rubs his thumbs below your ribcage to relax your tensed muscles. His gentle fingers vastly opposing his flushed cheeks when he brings his face up to yours again, his hair already messy and his eyes dazed as he looks at your lips like they’re the first glass of water he’s seen in days. He crashes his lips back into yours hungrily causing you to squeak at his desperation. You disconnect your lips leaving almost no distance between you.

“Bedroom?” you ask lowley against his lips, your vocal chords betraying you making the word come out far more shaky and less sexy than you wanted. His shoulders flex under your hands at his request.

Jungkook slides his hands down your ass to squeeze the flesh in his hands when his finger tips graze the back of your thighs. 

“Up.” he says firmly, offering you free transport to his bed. You hop up, his strong arms hold you and you wrap your legs tightly around his narrow waist. He starts the small walk to his bedroom, and you try to ignore the way his stomach pressed against your clothed clit is providing the smallest amount of friction with each of his steps, instead deciding to direct your attention to him instead. You give a gentle open mouthed kiss to the small mole on the side of his neck, you make a small path sucking where his jaw meets his neck, and he hums deeply making his chest rumble against yours in response.

When you reach his room, the smell of his fabric softener fills your lungs as he presses your back against his now closed door. His hands trail from your ass, trusting you to hold yourself up around him, up your sides, he slides your arms from around his neck and to the wall until your hands are effectively pinned above your head. The air between you is heavy for a moment as his dark eyes take in how you look like this, your eyes starry as your chest rises and falls in anticipation of his next move. 

He kisses you again, slower this time. You whimper into his mouth when his hips grind his hard dick into your clit. His thighs flexing under yours as he grinds up again harder, swallowing as many of your beautiful sounds as you’ll give him. 

He stops his hips and tucks his arms under you again to set you on his bed. 

You reach your shirt to pull it over your head but he stops you.

“Let me.” He says half a statement, half a question. 

You smile and say nothing but grant him permission by raising your arms above your head. He hooks his fingers into the hem of your shirt grazing your skin making goosebumps blossom on your flesh as he pulls it up and over your head. He reaches for the clasp of your bra slowly and gently like you might break, as if he wasn’t just shoving you against his door with his cock. 

“Fuck.” He breathes out harshly when your hardened nipples are finally released to the cool air of his room.

He quickly strips off his hoodie revealing that he’s been painting without a shirt underneath the whole night. Your breath hitches as all the times you’d touched his arm or chest the hours prior, not knowing there was only a thin barrier between your fingers and his skin. You run your eyes over his bare chest and hard stomach, you knew he worked out but hot damn, those baggy clothes he wears does no justice to what’s under them. However he doesn’t give you much time to marvel before he reconnects his lips with yours leaning into you until your back is on his duvet, you spread your legs to make room for him to settle in between. 

His hot skin drags softly against your nipples as he descends down your frame to pepper kisses along the valley of your breasts. He licks his fingers to roll one of your nipples between his wet digits while he attaches his mouth the other, swirling his tongue in intoxicating circles. You sigh at the small relief his mouth is bringing you and tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging roughly when his teeth bite down onto your sensitive bud. You feel the bed bow slightly below you as his hips stutter at your action. He quickly tends to the small sting with his tongue. Giving a gentle kiss to your nipple as he pulls away. 

He sits up and hooks his fingers into your pants, but stops before tugging them down. “Is this okay?” He asks sincerely. 

“Very.” You say, your heart clenching at his concern and help him slide your pants to your ankles, eager to have his soft skin on yours again. 

He brings his lips to your neck again and you wrap your legs around his waist rocking your hips up to rub your neglected clit against his rigid cock that he has yet to spring free. The wet spot on your panties rubbing off onto his sweats. You moan into his ear at the small relief you’re able to bring yourself, arching your back further in attempt to get more friction and he chuckles against your skin.

“Patience, sweetheart.” He smirks down at you and your feeble attempt to feel his cock. 

“Don’t wanna be patient. Want you to fuck me.” You say trying your best not to whine, as you reach for the waistband of his pants. 

He runs his tongue along his lip and leans down until his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Oh, don’t worry beautiful, I will.” He moves your hands and rolls his hips into yours once to punctuate his sentence. “But I wanna taste you first.” He says and quickly sits back on his knees to slip your underwear down your legs, tossing them behind him not worrying about where they land. 

He settles his shoulders under the back of your thighs and makes a path of open mouth kisses from your knee to your inner thigh, stopping right before your sex and inhaling deeply as he sucks a bruise into your skin, your face heats up and your hips shake in excitement. 

“You smell fucking delicious, sweetheart.” he looks up at you with soft doe eyes that completely contradict his filthy words. He lingers just a whisper away from where you want him and you roll your hips to meet his lips. He smirks again at your frustration moving his lips to your other knee to make a wet path up your other leg with his mouth, seeing how long he can push you. Stopping midthigh to speak again into your skin. 

“I wanna take my time with you sweets. Greedy little girls don’t get to cum on my tongue.” His eyes darken when they look up at you, his words sending electricity through your nerves and arousal dripping onto his sheets.

You opt for silently nodding as the only thing you could muster at the moment is a whine that you want to keep at bay. 

“Are you gonna take what I give you, sweetheart?” He says rubbing circles into your hip.

“Yes, Sir.” You breathe trying your best not to roll your hips into his touch and get scolded again. 

“Good girl.” He smiles at your compliance and finally gives you what you want.

He licks a long flat stripe up your slit, collecting your arousal on his tongue and swirling it around your throbbing clit. Your thighs tighten around his head and he groans against you. 

“Taste even sweeter than I imagined.” He all but moans into your folds. He swears he could get off just like this, with his tongue buried in your cunt and his hips rocking his cock into his mattress. 

You reach down and tangle your fingers in his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer to you. He obliges you and wraps his lips around your clit sucking harshly, crude slurping noises filling the room but both of you are too lost in the sensation to care. Your hips start rocking against his mouth again, this time your body fully taking a mind of its own, your climax being the only thing you can think about. 

“That’s my good girl, use my tongue to get off.” You moan louder at his words and speed up your movements, balling his hair into fists. As he looks up at you with lidded eyes, he gets lost, lost in your taste, lost in the way your sweaty chest heaves with your heavy breaths, lost in the way his name falls from your lips with your eyes screwed shut.

“I’m s-so fucking close!” your voice comes out in a strained moan cracking at the end of your sentence. 

“Cum for me beautiful, wanna taste your cum.” He says wrapping his lips around your clit again to pull your orgasm from you. He may have called you greedy, but he couldn’t get enough of the way your thighs shook around him. 

“Holy shit! Jungkook!” your orgasm hits you like a wave starting in your stomach and sending fire through your veins. Your hips stutter and Jungkook licks you languidly through your high. All the while your mouth mutters his name in an incoherent mantra. 

He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and climbs over you leaning on his forearms, and captures your lips in his. You taste yourself on them and smile against his mouth.

“You look so beautiful when you cum.” He says placing soft kisses along your jaw. And you’re glad he can’t see the way your cheeks flare at his comment. “Think you can still take my cock?” he says squeezing himself at the base through his pants. 

“God yes.” You say perhaps a little too enthusiastically and he chuckles at you. 

“You really are a greedy one, aren’t you sweetheart?” He says teasingly. “Let me get you ready first.” He says rubbing his thumb in small circles on your clit, your sensitivity makes you jump a little.

He looks down to watch the way your velvet walls swallow his fingers, but he stops his movement, realizing his hands are still covered in paint. 

“Shit.” He mutters almost silently. “I’ll be right back.” He says with a smile pecking your lips before he slips out his door. Closing it behind him just in case, as not to let Hobi unknowingly come home early only to find you spread eagle on his roommates bed. 

What the hell is he doing? Your eyebrows furrow, worried he’s gonna get some sort of convoluted sex toy. Which while you wouldn’t normally object, that’s a tad presumptuous on his part. 

Your mental ramble cut short and worries put to rest when he reenters the room with clean hands. He strips his sweats from his hips and climbs back over you.

“Sorry, I didn’t want you to get some sort of paint-chemical related rash on your… lady bits.” He says hesitantly breathing out a laugh against your cheek.

“While that’s incredibly considerate of you. That sentence didn’t do much for my ‘lady bits’.” you know what his venom filled tongue is capable of, so his childish use of words makes you giggle. 

He rolls his eyes at you and cups your face, pulling you in for another deep kiss. His hand snakes down between your legs and when his thumb connects with your clit you squeak and break the kiss.

“Your hands are freezing.” you say with more of a pout than you’re willing to admit. You presume he didn’t wanna make you wait too long so he washed his hands in cold water. 

“Why don’t you warm them up for me?” he quirks a brow and smirks. Bringing his hand up to your mouth and sticking his middle and ring finger between your lips. You happily wrap your lips around his digits; licking, sucking, and humming in content around them.

Jungkook’s cock twitches in his boxers as he watches your cheeks hollow slightly around his slender fingers, resisting from pushing them deeper in your mouth and seeing how pretty you look when you gag for him. 

He removes his hand from your mouth, marveling at the string of saliva that follows it. He reaches down to tease your entrance letting your spit and arousal get you ready for his stretch. He slips his fingers into your dripping core and has to hold back from moaning at how well you hug him. 

“Your pussy is so tight, sweetheart.” He breathes. “Your sweet cunt is gonna squeeze me real well won’t it?” He says catching your bottom lip between his teeth. You can’t help but clench around his fingers. “That’s my good girl.” He says, his eyes darkening and he curls into your sweet spot, you moan at how quickly he seems to be learning your body. Like he could figure out exactly what makes you tick if you stayed in his bed for just a while longer.

He removes his fingers making you whimper. He slips his boxers down a little and uses your arousal and his precum to wet his dick. Your mouth waters and you clench around nothing at how beautiful he looks slowly pumping himself with furrowed brows, until now he’s done a good job of not showing how badly his body demands to be touched just as much as yours does. 

He lines himself with your entrance and teases your clit with the tip of his cock, fighting the urge to slam himself into you to the hilt. 

“Do you want me to grab a condom?” he says mere millimeters away from slipping into you. 

“I’m on the pill.” you reassure and gasp at how close he is to giving you everything you wanted since he crashed his lips into yours at the easel. Or possibly before that.

That’s all he needed to hear before he pushed his cock past your entrance and into your wet pussy, the stretch he’s giving you making you thank him silently for insisting on warming you up first. 

“Fuck.” You both moan at how well you squeeze around him. He goes slow, inching in to give you time to adjust. You wrap your legs around his waist to encourage him deeper. He continues his slow pace breathing hot and thick against your neck. 

He sits up to watch how he disappears inside you. “Look how well you take my cock, sweetheart.” He says picking up some speed in his thrusts. You moan at how well he hits every spot in you that’s been left untouched tonight, his dirty words only further building the pressure in your pelvis. 

His thrusts become harder and you reach up you brace yourself on his biceps, his muscles flexing while he supports his weight above you. He angles his hips up slightly hitting your sweet spot perfectly, and you nearly yelp at the sensation, digging your nails into his arms making him hiss.

“Right there? Is that how your little pussy likes it?” He feigns a subtle innocence in his voice. Like he can’t see with his own eyes how well he’s fucking you.

“Yes, fuck! Please don’t stop.” you beg, mostly to get him to do just that, but also because of the sweaty fog his delicious cock has worked into your mind isn’t exactly allowing you to form the most intelligent of sentences.

He sits back on his knees and pushes one of your legs to your chest, his dick hitting deeper than you thought possible making your eyes roll back and your jaw slack. Your moans become uncontrollable and the words you’re attempting to say just come out in broken sounds.

“Such a good slut for me, look at you falling apart on my cock.” his voice almost a growl. “You gonna cum soon, sweetheart?” He says with a voice like silk to mask how close he is himself.

You can’t do more than nod fractically at his words in fear your voice will betray you. He rubs your clit with his thumb to earn your second climax from you.

And you do, your walls tighten around his cock but his pace doesn’t falter. Your legs shake and your eyes roll back. You cover your mouth to muffle a scream. Your orgasm ripping through you so hard you feel like you might burst. 

Jungkook hisses at how hard you’re squeezing him and fucks you through your high. He reaches to his headboard to fuck into you harder, being selfish for the first time tonight, using you to chase his own high.

“Where do you want it?” He says in a stifled whine.

“Cum inside Jungkook. I want you to fill me up.” You say pressing your nails into his chest. The overstimulation you feel in your core is worth every thrust when he finally lets go and fills you with his cum. His cock twitching as he slowly rides out his climax. 

He collapses on top of you, breathing heavily into your neck. Then rolls over to the other side of the bed, to allow both of you some cool air on your skin. 

“I hope I didn’t go too hard at the end there, are you okay?” He looks over at you with worried eyes.

“No. No it’s okay, I liked it.” you smile, your lungs and heart rate working hard to steady themselves.

After he’s caught his breath a little he reaches into his bedside table to get a small rag to wipe up some of his cum leaking out of you, and you suddenly feel very vulnerable at his thoughtful gesture. 

The post sex clarity hitting your mind, not quite in the way you hoped. As you lay there the height of what you two just did sending your mind go into overdrive.

Oh fuck. You run through the events of the night starting to panic a little. He’s my friend, how did this even happen? I wasn’t gonna do this. I wasn’t gonna let this get more complicated than my attraction to him already was. Shit, I’m an idiot. I mean he did kiss me, but… I can’t let this happen again. I don’t want this to end badly and have to move just because I think with my idiot vagina. It makes things too complicated. Okay, I have to end whatever that was now before things get even more complicated. He won’t mind right? He’s a college dude, he’s probably fine with just hittin’ it and quittin’ it. Yeah, everything is good. Friends can fuck once and then be good, it happens all the time. 

You sit up from his bed and run your hands through your hair a couple times in an attempt to tame it and start to pick up your clothes. 

“Are you okay?” He says, watching you as you attempt to find your underwear.

“Yeah, I’m good, just have an early class in the morning and I should probably get going.” you force a smile. 

“Oh, uh okay.” He says not quite convinced. Though you weren’t lying about that, you really did have a class in about seven hours.

“Hey um,” you hesitate, sliding your pants on just choosing to abandon your underwear. “This was just a one time thing, right?” you ask him, hating the way you said that. 

He senses your tone and feels a little twinge in his chest, but he ignores it, putting on a smile instead. “Yeah, definitely. Why do you ask?” 

“Okay, good.” Another twinge. “I just don’t want things to be too complicated, with us being neighbors and all…” You trail off, trying not to cringe at yourself. 

“Yeah, that makes sense.” He pauses, realizing for the first time that this could have negative consequences. “No worries, it’s forgotten. Just friends.” He reassures pulling his pants on.

“Just friends.” You smile and extend your hand to him. You shake on it. 

You pull your shirt over your head. 

“See you later, neighbor.” You say attempting to bring back the way things were just an hour ago. And you slip out his door.

He doesn’t walk you home like he normally does, and honestly you’re thankful. You just want to be back in your apartment where you can pretend that didn’t just happen. Even if that was one of the best fucks you've ever had, you're certainly not going to think about it. What is there to think about? Nothing happened.

You slip out his door, and into yours, met with Jimin munching in your kitchen, presumably after a party and your feet halt in their tracks. 

“Damn babe, you look positively wrecked.” He says with a knowing smirk.

“Jimin, I am so not in the mood for whatever you’re about to say.” you say exasperated.

“Oh, so I should save the ‘I told you so’? Would you rather get it in the morning?” He asks innocently, though he’s anything but.

“Preferably never.” You quip and slip into your bedroom.

Yeah, never is good, we’re just gonna pretend none of that happened.

-----------------------------

Taglist: @taezeus​ @spoopysoph​ @gucci-prince-tae​ @jiminiesthiccthighs​ @veryuniquenamegoeshere​ @hermiones-enchantment​ @irissilujm​ @flo-music​ @scalbra​ @sugarrimajins​ @embrace-themagic​ @megsmiiiii​ @nerdycookiemonster-1222​ @livorna​ 

[vanrouqe]

hi vanrouqe!!! i hope you're still alive and doing well!! ❤

mod says: hello there! firstly, i am truly sorry for the inactivity. i had to deal with uni work (read: thesis) that demanded soo much of my time and effort considering the new normal, that i wasn't able to write anything for the past months.

thankfully That hell of a semester is over but sadly a new one is about to start (read: internship. just キル me already) so i might not be back entirely.

i must admit i've lost touch when it comes to writing and have not indulged (brainrotted) in twst content that i do feel a bit lost with what to do with this writing blog.

but it goes without saying that i am really thankful to those who stuck around (seriously though, i am really grateful to all of you! silent readers make some noise ahah).

rest assured when i finally feel something again (all i feel is exhaustion right now lmao), that i'll get right back to writing! 💜

p.s. i think i have an idea who you are anon. perhaps you are my special friend, who knows? if that's the case i miss you and you don't have to worry about me! i do hope you and everyone else are doing alright!

[thepencilnerd]

– a budding romance | part 1 –

➵ After moving into a new apartment, Min Yoongi stumbles across a flower shop down the street who’s radiant bouquets and even brighter personality catches his eye. What happens when two completely different worlds collide? 

➵ pairing: min yoongi x reader

➵ genre: fluff, angst, slow burn, strong friendship/family dynamic, strangers to lovers, barely a soulmate AU

➵ word count: 16.8k

➵ warnings: swearing, very heavy angst, alcohol consumption, discussions of mental health and past emotional trauma—if you are in need of help, please please seek out professional care. there is hope out there and people that are here to help you. you are not your illness and always remember that you are not alone. 

➵ a/n: I finally decided to get back to writing since I was on spring break for a short period of time (and because staying home is cool :) this story was inspired by my newly developed passion for houseplants, of which I’ve amassed a collection of over 30 in the past few months and totally don’t have an addiction to...  This chapter turned out to be a very filler-heavy introduction to the universe it takes place in; although there’s not much romance in this part, I’m very happy with how the friendship dynamic between our main/secondary characters and their backgrounds turned out, so I please forgive me ^^

I’ve missed you all so freaking much, and I cannot thank you enough for showering Melophile with so much love throughout the past year. Thank you for being patient with me during my hiatus, and I hope you and all of your loved ones are staying safe, healthy, and happy ❤️enjoy, and please stay tuned for part two ❤️

“Where do you want the shelf?” the mover asked while holding one end of the wooden bookcase. 

The sleep looked up from his seat by the kitchen island and “Right by the window,” Yoongi directed, guiding him to the west-facing window that opened up to his balcony. “Thanks.” 

Tipping each of the movers, he thanked them once and bid them goodbye, shutting the door. The whoosh of the door closing left him alone in his new apartment with nothing but hastily arranged furniture, the quiet murmur of traffic outside, and of course, his thoughts; he was finally moved in. 

Yoongi had thought about moving out for years now, but never brought up the topic until Seokjin, Taehyung, and Jungkook were traveling out of the country more. By the time university had started, he and the guys had all agreed to move into a duplex a few minutes away from campus for time, money, and friendship’s sake. It was only a matter of time before the three boys were scouted off the street by the head of a modeling agency. Might he add that it was a late Friday night, post-finals season of senior year, and all the boys were more than inebriated, so how the man decided that giving contracts to three loud, wild, and utterly wasted uni students was astounding. Either way, the three stooges dropped out to pursue a career in modeling faster than you could say ‘show in Europe.’

After graduation, Namjoon brought up the idea of moving into a smaller building, to which Jimin and Hoseok disapproved of with arms crossed and pouty faces. Taehyung and Jungkook tried to come to an agreement and schedule what times of the year they’d be in town, but with their unpredictable schedules, it was a pointless compromise. Seokjin—the oldest of the seven—was expected to move out before any of them, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when he eventually offered to share a place with Taehyung and Jungkook. They were still employed under the same agency and manager, so understandably, they would all share similar shows, shooting schedules, flights, and time spent in and out of town. It was also pretty close from here, so the seven would still be able to spend time together when they had the chance to. 

Yoongi was the first to offer moving out so the four of them wouldn’t have to be crammed into a small condo. He had booked a few producing jobs here and there while still at university, so he practically had a contact list of full-time connections. Plus, Jimin had decided to enroll in a master’s program for traditional dance while teaching at a nearby dance studio, Namjoon started his first semester towards a postgraduate degree in literary criticism (again, how the boy had even passed his G.E. chemistry class in sophomore year was beyond anyone’s wildest imagination), and Hoseok had landed a solid job teaching hip-hop classes at the same studio Jimin was at.

“You’re sure you’re okay with it?” Jimin asked Yoongi with worry laced in his voice. The four were lounging in the living room of the quiet apartment. Seokjin and the two younger ones had moved out earlier that morning, and they were probably still getting settled. It was only a ten minute drive from Namjoon, Hoseok and Jimin’s new place. Thankfully they’d all be living a relative distance to one another even after moving. 

Patting him on the head, Yoongi’s lips formed a small grin. “Don’t worry about me. At least I won’t have to deal with Hoseok’s late night gas bombs...” 

Hoseok’s face burned bright red and his eyes grew wide as a storm of curse words flew out of his mouth. “Hey! Don’t blame me, tell Namjoon to learn how to cook raw food all the way through!"

To this, Namjoon threw his comforter at Hoseok, nailing him square in the face. Jimin held back his giggles while Yoongi stared wistfully. He would miss them more than he thought. 

“It’s only a few minutes from your place so I’ll come and check up on you guys every once in a while,” Yoongi sighed, leaning into the couch. With everything packed and sent off the day before, it was the only piece of furniture left in the apartment. A distant memory resurfaced as his eyes drifted to the dented armrest. He and Jungkook had bought it at the thrift store on 5th Street after weeks of Seokjin complaining that there was no place to sit and watch TV; a past time he required to “relieve him of his grievances.”

Yoongi cleared his throat, redirecting his attention back to the present moment. “You know, just to make sure you haven’t all starved or strangled each other.” 

The four shared one last month together and even helped Yoongi find his new place eight blocks down. According to Yoongi, the day Hoseok ran into Yoongi’s room with the crumpled piece of paper was a match made by hell and granted by heaven.

Snapping back into the present moment, Yoongi’s watch read 12:45 p.m. He rubbed his eyes at how dreadfully early in the day it was and his body was already begging for sleep. By the magic laws of the universe, the familiar sound of his ringtone reverberated through the barren apartment—his new apartment. Walking to the kitchen counter, Hoseok’s name flashed across the screen and Yoongi swiped to answer the call. 

“How’s our big boy doing?” Hoseok immediately shouted through the receiver. 

Yoongi scrunched his face in displeasure at the volume but couldn’t hide the slight smirk that grazed his lips. “I’m doing great mom, thanks for checking in.” 

“We wanted to know if you needed any help settling in!” Jimin’s soft voice, as usual, offered with nothing but joy. Judging by the distant sound of complaining and forced laughter, he had taken the opportunity to snatch the phone away from Hoseok, and Namjoon was now holding him hostage with the force of tickling. 

“I second that!” Namjoon’s voice boomed in the background.

Yoongi allowed himself the barest hint of a laugh. “I already had help from the movers, so the furniture is decently positioned already.” Opening up his fridge, he saw that it was unsurprisingly empty other than a few bottles of water. “I might need to run to the grocery store though. Can I call you guys after I get back?” 

“Jimin, I swear to god you’re going to regret sharing a room with me!” Hoseok’s voice echoed closer from the other end. 

“Call us when you get back! It’d be nice to get to know the shops around the neighborhood,” Namjoon backed up with confidence but he suddenly yelped in pain. Yoongi pictured Hoseok jabbing him in the side like he always did whenever they fought. 

Hoseok huffed as he brought up the phone and was in possession of the device once again. “We’ll swing by your place at 6 with food, so don’t worry and buy some basic groceries. Namjoon, I swear—”

“—and make some neighborhood friends!” Namjoon blurted out. “We’ll see you soon!”   

“See you soon!” Jimin added cheerfully. 

“Miss you bud!” Hoseok chirped. 

“Bye guys,” Yoongi chuckled. "Don’t kill each other.” Clicking off, he sighed once more before admiring his new place. The one-bedroom penthouse came with a decent sized-kitchen, in-unit washer and dryer, and included utilities. Not to mention the extra room that he had already moved his studio equipment into and man, that balcony view. It wasn’t considered budget-friendly for it’s square footage, but for the amenities and the part of town it was centered in? A steal.  

Even though a job in the music industry didn’t exactly pay well, Yoongi considered himself lucky to have gotten the exposure he did so early. He had been bound to music for as long as he could remember, and it was during his middle school years that he discovered the editing software that changed his life. By junior year of high school, Yoongi had accumulated hundreds of thousands of followers and millions of listens on his streaming account. After he declared his major in university, renowned musicians from all over the world were flooding his email with requests for new songs, collaborations, editing, and everything in between. 

As fame and status quickly began consuming his every waking thought, a dark cloud loomed over him. There had been a period of time when sitting in his studio was no longer enjoyable and felt like pure hell. Slowly but surely, it was the same cycle over and over again: get a request from a record label, make a new song, send it back to the tone-deaf money hungry CEO’s of the music industry, and then get feedback on how it’s not catchy enough or "up with the times.” God, that pissed him off more than anything. Good music shouldn’t have to be labeled as such because it fits into the typical mold of some teenage trend; that’s what makes it good.

That’s all they cared about these days. No meaningful lyrics or real talk about everyday life and how the world goes around—only songs about meaningless sex, regretting one night stands, repetitive ear worm tunes, unrequited and dumb young love, or things that talentless, plastic Instagram models could lip-sync and stick choreography to. It’s hard to pursue your passion in a field that you love when it’s hellbent on destroying itself. 

Don’t even start with the controversies Yoongi dealt with on a daily basis. Flashy yellow headlines that talked about who this mysterious producer Min Yoongi was, where he was brought up, who he’s dated/is dating, his sexuality, and even his family members and their backgrounds. All of these were topics that every single news and social media outlet had the audacity to stamp on hundreds of magazines covers and copy/paste on their blogs, yet if given the chance, none would have the real guts to ask him in-person, face to face. 

Yoongi found himself falling into periods of constant downward spirals. What would he become if he gave in? Who would he be if just shut up and took the money? If he listened to what everyone had to say and gave them everything they wanted? Would they love him any less or hate him even more? 

It was half past one when he realized that he still had to go to run errands. Another 30 minutes of the day spent lingering on things that can’t be changed and don’t matter, he noted to himself. Wonderful. 

Despite the chilly weather, Yoongi opted to throw on a hoodie and call it a day. His decision to wear ripped jeans was poorly made, but he refused to admit that laziness was the culprit for not packing some spare clothes into a suitcase before moving day. Before stepping out, he quickly slipped on a beanie and a face mask for privacy’s sake. He was really not in the mood today. 

Murmuring a quick thanks to the cashier, Yoongi walked out of the grocery store as fast as he could. Within minutes, people had gathered in a crowd around him asking for pictures, autographs, voice memos, and the works. 

Every single time he had to turn down someone’s request for a picture because he could not miss the last bus; constantly hiding in fear of someone catching him and finding out where he lives, or worse: his family members; always trying to leave the house at the most awkward time of day so he could actually walk around and get basic shit done. No one knew it, but he hated himself for feeling like the biggest asshole that ever existed when in reality, he was just trying to live a normal life.

Yoongi loved music, but more than anything, he loved how there were people who truly empathized with his songs and the effort he put into making them. He missed the days before fanbase culture mobbed those who genuinely understood what he was trying to say. He missed going out with the guys and not having to worry about strangers following him home and leaking his address for publicity and likes. He missed having the decency of basic privacy and boundaries. Yoongi was grateful for everyone’s unnecessary unconditional love for his work and lifelong devotion to music, but after all, he was nothing but a human being who needed some space to breathe. 

Today was no different. He got lucky and managed to snag enough fruits and vegetables to fit into a single paper bag before the overwhelming screeches and overlapping voices forced him out of the mart. 

One of the security guards and a few cashiers were kind enough to hold back a few of the people who tried following him out. Giving them a quick bow before scurrying out, he felt like an even bigger nuisance. 

What kind of a prick like me disrupts people’s day-to-day life just to get some food... 

Should’ve worn a damn ski mask.

Yoongi was two blocks from his apartment complex when the smell of smog and car exhaust was replaced by a tidal wave of—roses? The fragrance of fresh flowers flooded his nostrils with a vibrancy and sweetness that he had never smelled before. Trying to find the source, he stumbled across what appeared to be hole-in-the-wall flower shop. 

Treading carefully towards the vivid assortment of colors and warm light, he glanced over at the array of plants that graced the outside shelves. It wasn’t until he started feeling hot that he noticed a patio heater beside the entrance, which doubled as a lamp. 

As he admired the wide variety of colors, leaf shapes, and aromas, Yoongi picked up a weathered terra cotta pot. The gritty surface of the pot was splotched with discolored patches of white, probably from water and rain. It housed a plant with small, plump, ovular, dimpled emerald green leaves, and it was vining up the bamboo stick that was staked in the center. 

A delicate shuffle of shoes on hardwood accompanied a soft voice. “Need help finding something?” 

Looking up, Yoongi’s eyes met the young woman’s gaze. Even through his mask, her friendly smile seemed to glow brighter than the embers from the patio heater. Underneath her apron, she was wearing a fluffy white sweater and a pair of comfortably loose jeans that were decorated with colorful paint-splatters. 

Blinking hard after catching himself staring too long, Yoongi shook his head and put the plant back. “Just looking around. Nice place you got here.” If he spoke any quieter, he’d have a new job singing lullabies to babies.

Knitting her eyebrows with an inquisitive stare, he felt his pulse start to pick up. Did she recognize him? Was she going to freak out? Was there something on his face? 

She brought her finger up to her quirked lip and widened her eyes. “Botanophobia is my area of specialty!” she exclaimed with joy. “You don’t have to worry about killing a single plant under my wing.” Picking up the plant he set down, she held it out towards him with a warm grin. 

Yoongi won’t be the first to admit that of his absent green thumb. When he used to visit his grandmother, she’d always tug on his ear for picking at the hanging pots draped underneath her patio. He didn’t even have a plant near his vicinity until Taehyung brought home individual cactus for each of the guys. Something about keeping it on their desks for focus and oxygen or whatever.

Needless to say that Namjoon and Yoongi both learned very quickly that cacti don’t like water as much as you think. 

“Oh,” Yoongi waved his hands in defense. “ I’m not really a plant collecting type of guy.” 

The girl rolled her eyes teasingly and handed him a ball of twine from her pocket.

“Stay here until I get back,” she commanded with a stern look and playful confidence. “I’ll be but a moment.” Retreating back into the shop, Yoongi was frozen in place. Guilty if he leaves, not guilty if he stays—

Right as he was about to put the twine on the shelf, the girl came out of the shop with a paper-wrapped package. “Water it once a month and keep it by a window, preferably brightly lit but not necessarily,” she instructed with nothing less than an energetic smile. “They kind of thrive on neglect.” 

He was taken aback. “But—” 

She held her hand up to halt his rebuttal and took back the twine. “Think of this as a little welcome to the neighborhood gift. I know all of my locals by heart and I’ve never seen you around before.” 

“I can’t just take a plant from you,” Yoongi huffed, slightly annoyed at her stubborn nature. She was determined, he’d give her that. 

Shaking her head, her hands didn’t move. “You can pay me back the next time you visit, and if you still haven’t fallen in love with this guy—” her head motioned to the paper-wrapped plant in her hands. “—then I guess I’ll just have to work harder.” 

Yoongi bowed his head in thanks and accepted the parcel with a tightly pressed smile. She was definitely not one to give in. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy that there were still people in the world who loved their jobs as much as this woman. 

The dimming sky signaled that it was time for him to get back home. Waving goodbye, the sound of his steps grew louder as the echo of her voice faded farther away. “See you around!” 

Sure, the pessimist in him spat. 

You awoke to the gentle sound of rain pattering against your window. Drops bounced off of the glass as the sound grew harsher, the water droplets ricocheting off of the already-streaky pane and onto the surrounding leaves of the tree whose branches caressed your small windowsill. The freezing cold air whistled through the crack between your window pane and the latch, causing you to shiver reflexively.

Stretching out your limbs, a large and clearly gracious yawn left your mouth, which harmonized in tandem with your outstretched palms and scrunched face. The warmth of your rumpled and disheveled sheets made you groan, your body naturally refusing to leave the comfort of your own bed. Did you really have to go out today? Using the rusty spring of the mattress to swing your legs over the bed, your feet grazed the cold, damp fabric of your carpet—

“Crap.” Partially awake, your aching limbs dashed across your small studio apartment and rummaged through the pile of rubbish in the spare closet, fishing out an old bucket. You ran back to your room and placed on top of the wet patch of fabric just underneath the foot of your bed. The sound of water hitting the carpet soon turned into muffled pangs. The culprit? A leaky spot in the ceiling of your humble abode that you had so graciously discovered months after you’d moved in. 

Your landlord/makeshift, of course, said he couldn’t do anything about it. Something told you it wasn’t that he couldn’t, but rather, he couldn’t be bothered to...

The pleasantly dull morning heaviness that weighed your body slowly retreated, and left you fully aware that your feet were still wet and freezing cold. Very, very cold. It was Monday, right? A sigh escaped you as your hand came up to rub your eyes. Definitely a Monday. Stretching once more, you sat silently and found a moment of peace in gazing at the pouring rain that battered your window. 

There was something oddly relaxing about watching the water droplets slowly slide down the glass. Whether it was the transparency of the glass against the clarity of the rainwater, or the different textures of sound as the droplets bounced off of the window onto the tree leaves, one thing was certain: overcast skies and the fresh smell petrichor was one of nature’s many great gifts. 

Since the day was still immersed in the early hours of the morning, you were compelled to stay inside and burn through a book or two while in the comfort of your own bed. However, your fairytale fantasy was shattered by the reality that was your day job. You washed up, got dressed, and didn’t bother adding any extra layers to combat the cold. It was, of course, the sensation of the icy biting air against your flushed cheeks that made you treasure this kind of weather all the more. The haphazard toss a mini-umbrella into your bag and the clink of a lock and key was quite complimentary. 

Ever since you were young, you’d loved flowers. Red roses, to be exact. It was in your best interest as a 6-year old to tag alongside your dad on his trips to the hardware store. Each time you came home, you ended up bringing a 99-cent fern home that ended up dying a week later. No matter how much your little heart adored each tiny gem, it was only a matter of time before you drowned the plant with too much water. In your pre-pubescent mind, taking care of a plant meant watering it. Every day. Little did you know that tending to a garden meant leaving it alone and giving it time to grow by itself. 

Hundreds of plant funerals were held from the tender ages of six to fourteen. Years of experience, tears, frustration, determination, and love ended up raising your brown thumb well. Who knew that you’d end up majoring in biology and horticultural studies? Not to mention starting up an independent business as a flower shop and nursery. Now that was something to be grateful for. 

It might seem strange to many; working a job that doesn’t pay a ton or have a stable workload, sitting in a humid shop some days with nothing but the rustling of dried bouquets to keep you company, or learning to appreciate the quiet solitude of white noise against morning traffic. It may have seemed like torture for anyone with some ounce of sanity, but to you, it was home. 

Nothing excited you more than when you received the bi-weekly shipment of new plants. You were lucky the rain had stopped by the time you made it halfway to the shop. Marco, your go-to greenhouse guy, was just in time. He was wearing a blue sweater and the navy scarf his wife, Lucia, knitted him for Christmas four years ago. 

You’ll never forget the gifts they exchanged that year. It was two days before Christmas and Marco was so busy with deliveries, he didn’t have time to get Lucia a present. Of course, seeing him ramble his worries to you while bringing in the day’s shipment made a lightbulb go off in your head. 

As he was unloading boxes, you ran inside and whipped up a somewhat-simple but ever-classic arrangement: red tulips, white honeysuckles, baby’s-breath stems, and a mix of myrtle and lemon leaves to balance out the flower to foliage ratio. 

Before Marco could leave, you put the finishing touches on the lush bouquet and finished it off with a gold-dusted bow for added holiday spirit. 

“All done!” Marco bellowed. Running out of the shop, you handed him the box that sheltered Lucia’s gift. 

“Merry Christmas,” you whispered with a giddiness that couldn’t be held back. 

“Oh, bella...” His reaction was priceless. With a mouth parted, sparkling eyes, and a wonder-struck smile to top it all off, this was why you loved your job. 

“Red tulips for a perfect love, honeysuckles for devoted lovers, and baby’s breath for everlasting love.” The words rolled off of your tongue like a second language. 

Marco was still speechless. “You shouldn’t have—”

“Marco, my business would not function without you and neither would I,” you hushed. “This is the absolute least I could do for you and Lucia.” 

“Bella!” His deep voice brought you back to the present day. The nickname always made you feel fuzzy. “How are you?” 

“I’m doing wonderful, Marco.” Your eyes beamed. “How are Lucia and the girls?” 

He laughed, shaking his head with a grin. “As wild as always. Fia and Gianna just started 2nd grade a few days ago. They’re growing up too fast.” 

Your heart melted. “It’s always like that, isn’t it? Time flies...” The wistful tone in your voice didn’t go unnoticed. “Anyway, what’s in today’s box of treasures?” Rubbing your hands together like an animated cartoon, your eyes lit up at the sight of all the new varieties that peeked from the boxes. 

“Oh you’ll love these!” Pulling out one of the 4-inch grow pots from the boxes, he revealed to you a healthy Hoya bella. The delicately draped stems with spear-shaped leaves and grooved foliage was breathtaking. A few of them even had a few peduncles, which was where flowers bloomed from. Hoyas were known for their delicate, candy-like flowers, and Hoya bella was a prolific bloomer. 

If you had to choose a favorite type of tropical genus, it’d most definitely be the wax plant family. There are hundreds of species within that range from your typical waxy, thick and succulent leaves to thin, hair-like sparse leaves that looked like grass. Expensive grass, might you add. 

You couldn’t hold back the excitement. “You brought me hoyas!” Jumping up and down with an overzealous amount of energy, Marco bowed for dramatic effect. Today was already off to a great start. 

He counted all the boxes one more time, summing up the numbers in his head. “There are also some krinkle 8′s, compactas, variegated and green carnosas, more bellas, australis, curtisii, pubicalyx, burtoniae, lacunosa, and only a couple linearis. You know how popular those are these days.” Each time he listed off another set of species had you spinning. “The bottom boxes have some pothos, rubber trees, ferns, tradescantias, and peperomias.” 

“Thank you thank you thank you,” you exclaimed while giving him a big hug. “Don’t count me guilty if I run home with a few of these.” 

A hearty laugh reverberated from his chest. “Always a pleasure, bella. I have to get going. Watch the rain! I’ll see you next week!” 

Bidding him a goodbye, you reminded him to drive safe before he was off. 

The first customer of the day was a regular; you could spot her bright red lipstick and pinup elegance from a mile away. If she hadn’t said anything, you could have sworn she was related to Marilyn Monroe. 

 “Good morning, Ms. Simmons!” you greeted as the chime on the door jingled. “How are you?” 

Her bright red lips curled into a grin that revealed her immaculate smile. “I’m doing very well, thank you dearie.” Did you mention that she had an Irish accent? 

Stepping out from behind the counter, you pulled out the freshly wrapped parcel and unfolded the top to show her. Cupping your hand to speak, the words came out in a whisper. “I got the new shipment of linearis.” 

At this, her eyes grew bigger and mouth rounded into an O. She’d been waiting for these grass-leaved hoyas for months now and you had made a promise to her that she was the first on the waitlist. 

“You are an absolute jewel my love, an unreal star!” Handing you her usual payment method of cash, you made sure to choose the fullest plant for her before she arrived. Also, you may have added in a begonia and African violet or two. All in the name of agape love, truly. 

Even though she celebrated her 70th birthday over the winter, Ms. Simmons was a regular ever since you opened the shop. She always made the two mile walk from her home to your shop every Monday and you couldn’t understand for the life of you why. All you could do was be the best at your job and treat your customers as well, if anything, better than they treated you.  

“I’ll see you next week, Ms. Simmons,” you smiled, holding the door open for her as she went on her merry way. 

The rest of the day was business as usual. Mary, another regular, came in looking for a rubber tree and a peace lily; she’d just moved into a bigger house to accompany their newest family member, and needed some green so the place didn’t look so sterile. 

Isaac, the pastor who worked at the local church, was in need of some rose arrangements for this weekend’s sermon. He always loved how full the ones you had out on display were. 

Kat was an old university friend you had stayed in touch with and a fellow “hoya head.” She was the sweetest girl and always brought you coffee and a perfectly toasted bagel whenever she visited. The doorbell always chimed at exactly 12:25 p.m. and she never missed it once ever since you opened the shop’s doors. 

“You got a perm?!” you gawked. She’d gotten another haircut. Her once long, pin-straight dark brown hair was now shoulder length and curled like Shirley Temple’s signature look. “You look a-freaking-mazing!” 

Tussling the curls with one hand while pushing up the bridge of her cat-eye glasses with the other, she reminded you of a revamped 70’s Betty Boop. “Thank you darling, I’ve been meaning to chop it all off for a while now but the weather has had me down in the dumps,” she remarked in an over the top, received pronunciation accent. 

Shaking your head and appreciating her choice of clothing, you couldn’t help but applaud at how she always chose fashion and style over basic comfort.

"We got some bellas and compactas so grab ‘em and go before you get a cold.” Her red dress and black cardigan ensemble was an eye-catcher but did not bode well considering the cloudy sky.

She rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner. “Yes mom, I’ll take those two and a krinkle, if you please.” You will admit, her energy was something you never got tired of. 

The wrapping of planters had become muscle-memory now. Wrap around, fold over, crease the edge, tuck in the sides, and tie with some twine. A snip here and brushing off the excess soil there and voila. 

Before she left, you handed her the umbrella you brought from home. “Get home before it starts raining!” you nagged. “I only live a few minutes from here so just take it before you ruin your clothes.” Kat definitely needed it more than you. 

She wrapped her arms around you in a familiar hug and promised she’d call you back at home. “Love you!” Perfect timing, too. Right as the door shut, the slow patter of rain had started sprinkling the rooftop, and cars started whooshing by with an added splash. 

Cradling your warm cup of coffee was a routine on Kat’s visiting days. The rain was now trickling down the ridged shingles of the roof and down the gutter, droplets of water blurring into coiled trails. Absolutely mesmerizing. After making a dozen bouquets that were on today’s order list, Sara, Louie, Timmy, Kyle, and George visited one by one to pick them up. Soon after that, the day started slowing down and the rain showed no signs of stopping like you had anticipated. It was nearing closing time too, so maybe it was a good idea to head home a bit early. 

You rushed to bring in the buckets of pre-cut flowers and ready-made arrangements from outside. You ended up wrapping everything up right on time. Even better, a few new faces showed up. All of your linearis and bellas had sold out today (no surprise), and you got to meet some new customers right before closing time. It was nothing but a joyous and success-filled day in your eyes. 

Gripping the cold metal, goosebumps prickled your skin as soon as your fingertips rolled down the gate over the store windows. A smile of triumph grazed your lips. The quietest of goodbyes escaped your lips.

Until tomorrow. 

The buzz of alcohol and smell of grease wafted in the air as they all got crazier by the minute. 

Namjoon had already burned through three bottles of beer and was on the verge of losing his sense of direction. Hoseok was two sips in before his face flushed a bright red. Jimin was prancing around like a fairy after his third shot of tequila. Taehyung and Jungkook were singing and dancing to bad karaoke songs, nearly knocking over the TV a few times. 

Seokjin was the only one who was mildly sober. Again, mildly is a word that should be used very lightly. "Since when did you have a green finger?”

The five paused their shenanigans to glance over at the single plant that decorated the otherwise empty bookshelf. 

Yoongi chewed silently, unable to come up with any response. 

Jimin hiccuped before talking. “Didn’t you kill a cactus a few years back?”  

Again, Yoongi chose to stay silent and give an unbothered shrug. Hoseok’s face still looked like he was contemplating the meaning of life, but he managed to nod his head in confirmation. 

“Yeah, Namjoon drowned his, too,” the youngest spoke with a ditzy tone. Taehyung giggled like a child at Jungkook’s strangely accurate description and pointed at Namjoon. Some comment about his messy hair or turtle glasses, or a combination of both.

“I’m old enough to take care of myself so I should be able to take care of some stupid weed.” For some reason, Yoongi’s mouth burned saying those words. 

Namjoon rolled his eyes at the comment and got up to grab some water. Of course, his drunk state amplified his clumsiness and caused him to bang his knee against the corner of the kitchen island. Hoseok and Jimin burst out into cackles and snorted as Yoongi rolled his eyes. The alcohol was beginning to pass like water. He should slow down. 

“Apparently that one thrives on neglect.” Yoongi finally broke his vow of silence, changing the topic and directing his attention to Jimin and half-there Hoseok. “How’s teaching going?” 

Leaning on each other as the alcohol sleeps finally kicked in, they could only raise their thumbs-up with half-lidded eyes. 

Coming back with a tray of water cups that remained miraculously intact, Namjoon collapsed down into his seat. “They’ve been working every single day for the past month now. Jimin has his mid-semester show coming up and Hoseok got booked for some choreography with a local theater group.” 

Yoongi downed one last mouthful of the bitter drink before calling it quits, enjoying how it burned his throat as it made its way down. “And you guys?” 

Seokjin and Jungkook all murmured something about an upcoming shoot in May for the spring catalog. 

“Jungkook and Seokjin got booked for a perfume ad and I got an acting gig,” Taehyung explained. The excitement was evident in his voice. Yoongi congratulated the three, cheering them on with another shot. 

He turned to the boy rubbing his bruised knee. “And you, Joon?” 

It was Namjoon’s turn to shrug. “School is school. Always studying, reading, writing, nothing new,” he droned in a monotonous voice. “How’ve you been handling everything?” 

He was talking about all the new deals that Yoongi was offered in the last couple of weeks. Every post on social media was rampant with news of Min Yoongi’s latest tracks and upcoming collabs. Although the boys would never fully understand his stress, their sympathy for him was plenty enough.

“Same old same old. Money hungry bastards trying to get my advice on shitty tracks that have as much depth and complexity as a poptart just to get my signature stamped on it.” Yoongi spoke with painful honesty, causing everyone to sober up and focus on him. He took a final swig of his drink. “Whatever sells, I guess.” 

Namjoon and the others shook their heads in agreement solemnly, showing his wordless support and understanding. “You’ll get out of it, Yoongi. Trust me.” He patted his friend’s shoulder in vain, but only Yoongi knew it. 

Trying to swallow the words, Yoongi looked over at the snoring bundle that was Jimin, Hoseok, Jungkook, and Taehyung. Seokjin was probably passed out in the bathroom. His upper teeth raked across his lower lip, savoring the dull sensation that felt more real than the situation he had gotten himself into. 

“Yeah. I’ll get out of it.” 

Spring was always the best time of the year. All of the flowers were in bloom and sunlight was streaming through everyone’s window without being unbearably hot. To top it all off, it was also the busiest time for you and your business. The shop was always flooded with customers marveling at the colors that decorated the exterior. When the inside of the shop finally cleared out, you were able to take requests for individual bouquets, parties, and weddings. 

“Need some help?” a familiar someone shouted through the crowd of people. 

Your head snapped over to the upbeat and bubbly voice you knew by heart. “Kat!” Hugging her over the counter and bringing her behind the register, you quickly thanked her before running around frantically with a notepad in hand. 

This became a routine about two springs after you opened up: people piling in by the masses for a chance at bringing home the freshest roses, tulips, and succulents you had to offer, Kat making her weekly visit and seeing you overwhelmed, weaving her way through the horde of people crammed inside the shop and lined up outside, and finally putting on an apron of her own and managing the register while you paced back and forth getting people’s orders. 

“What would I do without you?” you mouthed to her as you formed your face into a meme-worthy cry face.

She stuck her tongue out and managed the register like a pro, fingers pressing buttons left and right at lighting speed. You giggled and went back to jotting down everyone’s orders. 

1x assmt/ peace lilies; red and white in ceram. pot

2x 4-inch maiden hair ferns delivered

1 bqt/dozen red roses w/ filler foliage

1 bqt/dozen red roses w/o filler foliage

1x dozen individually wrapped W roses with gld. ribbons

R, W, PRP, PNK tulips w/ queen anne’s lace

Succ. terr. for bday, round jar, colorful

Over the course of one day, you used up three ballpoint pens and couldn’t feel your fingers or your cheeks. Writing and smiling at the same time should be an official sport for next year’s Olympics. Kat fared no better. Slung over the register like a floppy piece of bacon, the only indication of any remaining energy from either of you was the heavy sound of breathing. 

Stretching out your hands, you set down the notepad and groaned. “Kat?” Checking to make sure she was alive, she groaned back in response. “Thank you.” 

She looked up and rested her cheek against the gold glass of the counter. “Welcome,” she mumbled, flashing her signature smile. It was a quarter past seven but you usually closed the shop by five, so why were you and Kat still here? After the commotion of today, both of you were too exhausted to close up, so you just brought whatever flowers from outside remained and ordered some takeout to eat here. 

Standing up, your body needed to step outside and get some fresh air. Kat was knocked out comfortably on the counter, so you decided to leave her alone to nap in peace. The first step you took outside made your body tingle. You were constantly running back and forth earlier, but being out of breath and in a mental flux with all the orders made you feel like you were floating. 

You inhaled the cold air as deeply as you could and breathed out with an equal amount of force. The sky was tinted a coral pink color and the sun was barely kissing the horizon. Thank you spring for yet another marvelous attribute that only you can provide. 

Right before you were about to step back inside, a familiar masked figure entered your field of vision. “Hey!” Calling out through cupped hands, you prayed he could hear you over the few cars that were driving by. His head perked up and even behind his covered face, you could see that he was surprised. Ducking his head in a makeshift greeting, you waved him hello and goodbye, happy to see his masked face again. No point in calling him over this late at night. He probably had things to do. Didn’t we all? 

Jungkook and Taehyung were the first ones to point it out. 

“Yoongi...” Hoseok uttered. 

“How could you?” Seokjin continued, mouth agape in pure disbelief.  

Namjoon shook his head. “I can’t believe you’ve done this. ‘Responsible adult’ my ass.” 

“You’ve had it for two weeks and it’s already dying!” Jimin was the one who finally blurted it out. 

Yoongi rubbed his sore eyes. It was 11 in the morning and he was exhausted from staying up all night. The deadline for his upcoming track was this Friday and contrary to popular belief, making a horribly repetitive and catchy song was a lot harder than you’d think. The guys managed to find some time in their schedules to come visit him. He never thought the day would come where he wanted them to stay home. 

“It’s fine,” he grunted. 

“When was the last time you watered it?” Hoseok asked, inspecting the sick looking plant. He was making that weird face. The one where his nose wrinkled at an invisible stench and eyes narrowed into slits. 

“Don’t know,” Yoongi shrugged while chugging a few mouthfuls of water and relished the feeling of cool liquid coating his parched throat. 

They all surveyed the state of the place. There were crumpled scraps of paper that littered the hardwood floor like confetti. Empty water bottles were spread across the bathroom, music studio, kitchen counter, and balcony shelf—and who could forget the pile of worn hoodies and shirts that were nestled in the sofa corner and had slowly been growing bigger, congregating to form a laundry mountain. 

Namjoon was the one to point out that the fridge was still pretty much empty. “Did you even go grocery shopping, Yoongi?” He spoke with the tone of concern now. If anyone knew how persistent Yoongi was, it was Namjoon. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s skipped meals and sleep just to work on a song. 

“Yoongi, we can go out for you if you need us to,” Jimin offered as usual. Hoseok and Namjoon voted in support of his idea, already mouthing a list to Taehyung and Jungkook. 

“We’ll go to the supermar—” Jungkook was cut off by Yoongi’s sudden spike of anger. 

“I’m fine,” Yoongi replied a bit too harshly. He could only hold in pent up frustration for so long before he burst. “I don’t need you to go grocery shopping for me. I don’t need your help. I appreciate it, I really do, but it’s not your job to bear my burden of being a nuisance.”  

They stayed quiet. The ball was already rolling and he needed to get it all out. 

“You think I don’t want to go out? To step outside for one day and have nobody recognize me?” Yoongi scoffed, voice dripping with venom and sarcasm. “I want—” he paused. “No, no. I crave that more than anything. The anonymity I had in high school when I was a nobody and only had you guys by my side. 

“Back when I didn’t have to bury myself underneath hoodies and beanies, suffocate myself underneath scarves and face masks, or wear sunglasses when it wasn’t the slightest bit sunny out.” Yoongi held back a scream and ran his hands through his hair in anger, tugging at the strands so he could feel tense pain nip at his scalp; he needed to feel anything other than this—this thing inside of him. Realizing that he had directed his vexes toward the wrong people, he sighed. Yoongi buried his face into his hands, disappointed at himself for doing it again. 

Sinking into the ground, he couldn’t find it in himself to shed a single tear. In a fit of blind rage, he had just yelled at his childhood friends for absolutely no reason. Guilt was starting to eat away at his conscience; he’d fucked up—bad. What the hell was wrong with him? 

The six kneeled down beside Yoongi and enveloped him in a silent hug. The boys had formed their group of seven in middle school and were forever bound by their loyalty to one another. Pushing past the temper tantrums of adolescence and living through the toils of university was all accomplished by the means of what connected them as a whole: friendship. Friends were there for each other through thick and thin, and they knew that none of them were free from the confines of daily life; friends were family

Yoongi pressed the palms of his hands harder into his eye sockets and blinked back the ache that was diffusing across his muscles. 

I’ll get out of it. 

It was an unusually cloudy day for spring. The grey clouds that were spread out across the sky didn’t seem to bode well for the day ahead. Today went by slower than usual. Granted it was a Sunday, but still—it was an off day. 

You were in the middle of pruning the plants that were set up outside the shop when a hand tapped your shoulder. Turning around, you were greeted by a doe-eyed young man and his equally handsome friend. You had never seen them around before and they were each carrying two insulated grocery bags by their sides. 

“Good afternoon.” The latter greeted you with an immaculate smile, bowing slightly. His friend mirrored the greeting, also presenting himself with his own charming grin. 

Starstruck for a moment, you blinked a few times before gulping nervously. “Pleasure.” You mentally face-palmed your brain. Great job. 

The big-eyed one spoke with a certain shyness you couldn’t put your finger on. “We were looking for some advice on plants. For a friend.” Chuckling, he scratched the back of his ear. It was only after a few moments to process their appearances did you realize that they were both attractive enough to be models, or something of the sort. Maybe your eyes were tricking you, but you felt like you’d seen them on last month’s fashion catalogue...

“I’m Jungkook by the way.” Shaking his hand, you couldn’t help but be aware of the pink that crept up your face. You tried to hide it with a nervous smile. 

Act professional, you mentally scolded. “______,” you introduced yourself.

The other apologized for his manners and shook your hand as well. Your small fingers paled in comparison to his. “Taehyung. Nice to meet you.” His blinding smile made you blush furiously and you were dying inside. 

“So uh—our friend, he has a plant like this one,” Taehyung continued, stopping to point to the tray of green carnosas beside his knee. “—and it’s starting to turn brown?” 

“Hmm...” you frowned. "Does your friend always have the air conditioner or heater running? Something that might cause the air to dry out?”

The two stared at each other at a loss for words. “Not really, he always complains that the weather is too hot to turn on the heater yet too cold for the AC,” Jungkook elaborated. 

“Oh!” He gasped as if a mind-blowing thought had struck him. “There’s a humidifier by his couch. Remember? He always used to complain about nosebleeds when we lived by uni.” Jungkook shook his head up and down like a cartoon, probably recalling this as well. 

You were stumped. “You’re sure they’re brown leaves, right? Not yellow?” 

They nodded. Damn. Yellowing leaves almost always indicated over watering or under fertilizing. Browning edges and tips usually meant that the plant needed more humidity, but full blown brown leaves? 

Sighing in defeat, you packaged a small packet of water-soluble fertilizer with instructions and handed it to doe-eyed . “Try this and see if it helps,” you instructed, praying it would. Hoyas were known as bullet-proof plants, so why a carnosa of all species was starting to decline was alarming. 

They thanked you for your help and asked you a few more questions before leaving. 

“By the way,” Taehyung asked. “Do you do arrangements for large-scale productions? Like photoshoots?” 

You said yes with a gentle smile. “Occasionally I will, but being such a small shop, I try to limit it to only during the springtime. It’s harder to fill out orders for big events when there aren’t that many materials to work with.” 

Jungkook’s eyes got bigger than you thought to be possible and beamed, still running his hands through his hair shyly. “Would you be interested in helping us out?” 

Raising your eyebrow at their request, you were curious. “What exactly would I be helping with?” 

Taehyung started stuttering, his turn to be shy. “We actually have a spring photoshoot coming up for our modeling gig, and we thought it’d be cool to have an actual set full of flowers. Not just a big, white room with oversaturated fluorescents.” 

“So you are models?” You felt like Sherlock Holmes had cracked the case. 

This time, they were the ones who turned tomato red and cleared their throats, scratching their heads nervously. Humble folks. 

“Don’t fret, your secret is safe with me,” you comforted. “What kind of theme are you trying to go for?” 

You conversed for the next half twenty minutes about their ideas for the shoot and a little bit about their backgrounds, and you managed to exchange numbers. It turns out they were quite the dynamic duo. 

If you hadn’t reminded them that they had groceries that needed to be taken home, you could have easily talked to them for another couple of hours. They were the welcoming social butterflies, not the typical annoying ones that felt the compulsive need to blabber on about nothing. 

After saving their contacts into your phone, Taehyung and Jungkook thanked you once more for your time and said they’d see you around. 

What an interesting day it turned out to be indeed...

“We come bearing gifts!” Taehyung announced grandly in his signature deep voice. Setting down the bags, the six got to work organizing the food stash. Jungkook, Taehyung and Seokjin were fortunate enough to be in town for a while before their next shoot, and Jimin, Namjoon, and Hoseok were on spring break. Basically, all of them had been camping in Yoongi’s living room for the past few weeks, and he wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

Jungkook and Taehyung had bought enough food to last all of them for a month had they still lived under a single roof. Jimin got to work on washing and slicing up the vegetables, Seokjin was dividing up the cuts of beef, and Hoseok was boiling some water and sauce for the pasta. Meanwhile, Taehyung was busy figuring out how to set the temperature dial on the oven and Jungkook was scolding him every few seconds for not letting him do it. 

Namjoon was keeping a keen eye on the water to make sure it was boiling.

“Do you think he’s still sleeping?” Sat on the bar counter of the kitchen, he propped up his chin while resting his elbow on the table. 

“I hope so,” Hoseok sighed. “But you know he never sleeps even at the best of times.” 

Jimin shook his head. “He was snoring a little earlier, but he might just be swaddled underneath the covers,” he added, the satisfying crunch of the vegetables timed perfectly with his words. 

“He’ll be okay, right?” Jungkook asked with worry evident in his voice. 

“He’ll talk about it when he’s ready to, but until then, it’s not our place to pry.” Seokjin was the class clown of the group, but every so often he let the wise part of his brain come out. “Let’s cook up a feast, pop open some bottles, and have a good time just like the old days.” 

“The water is boiling!” Namjoon shouted, a bit too loud for Hoseok’s taste. He jumped at the sudden spike in pitch like a cat. Bursting into a fit of laughter, Hoseok whacked Joon on the forehead with the wooden spoon, making him howl. A spitting image of siblings fighting on Thanksgiving. 

In the other room, Yoongi let out a deep sigh from beneath the jumbled mess of covers. The smell emanating from the kitchen made his mouth water and fooled him into thinking he was still dreaming. 

Sitting up slowly so the blood wouldn’t rush too quickly to his head, he stared outside at the glimmering lights of the city that lit up the dark sky. Across the street, he could barely make out the flashing shadows of people’s TV screens behind their blinds and the monotonous, undecorated, cement balconies. For the most part, the sight was nothing extraordinary. 

If he shut his eyes and listened closely, he could hear the faint hum of sirens; feel the quiet murmur of the heartbeat that lived and breathe in the city. If he silenced his mind entirely, he could smell the wet cement through the crack of his open window, still damp from the rain that poured hours earlier. 

His footsteps were light as he made his way to the kitchen, but not before sneaking a glance at his friends from the hallway. Hiding behind the doorway, Yoongi listened to their voices; somehow even throughout puberty, he could still tell exactly who’s voice belonged to who just by the energy their words radiated. 

“You told me to tell you when the water was boiling!” Namjoon defended with a whine, still rubbing his forehead from where Hoseok struck him with the spoon. He swore it was turning red.“I told you the water was boiling!” 

Jungkook hung his head down to hide his wide-toothed grin. He was trying his hardest to hold back the snort that threatened to escape. “I think Hoseok meant to let him know with some bit of sanity, not intentionally scare him.” 

“Either way, Hoseok definitely knew the water was boiling,” Taehyung chuckled with his mouth half-full. He always liked sneaking bits of food whenever they cooked something. 

“Stop eating all the carrots, Taehyung!” Jimin yelled for what seemed like the hundredth time. “I hope your nose turns orange.” 

His hand stopped midway, the carrot a mere centimeters away from his mouth which was still open. “Can—can that actually happen?” he sputtered. 

Yoongi could picture Jimin’s smirk down to the last dimple. “I don’t know Taehyung, ever wonder why some babies turn orange? 

“It only happens if you only eat carrots for a long time, like a carrot juice detox or something.” As usual, Seokjin was the voice of logic and mild reason in Yoongi’s absence. 

Taehyung pinched Jimin’s cheek as revenge, popping the carrot into his mouth. 

“I don’t know Taehyung,” Hoseok warned, sucking air in between his teeth for added effect. “Now that you mention it, your nose is starting to look a little bit—” 

“What?!” A few chunks of carrot came flying out of his mouth, causing the boys to explode into snickers and simultaneous “ew’s.” Taehyung ran to the nearest bathroom and nearly ran face-first into the mirror trying to get a good look at his face. 

“Hoseok!!!” he screeched like a demon. “You are so freaking lucky we don’t share a room anymore!” 

Jungkook was starting to hyperventilate and clap like a seal, while Jimin, Seokjin and Hoseok sounded like they were on laughing gas from all of their snorting. “How do you fall for that sort of thing?” Seokjin forced out while clutching his stomach and nearly bursting into tears. 

“God you guys are so stupid,” Namjoon facepalmed. In reality, he was hiding his ear-to-ear grin and his cheeks were sore. “I don’t know how we dealt with each other for twenty years.” 

This made all of them laugh even harder.

Still hiding behind the doorway, Yoongi felt a bruising pain bloom from within his chest. It started deep down in his ribs and moved up his chest, crawling up his throat and contracting every muscle and scraping against every bone as it made its way farther up. The ache grew into a bubble, inflating itself bigger and bigger until it hurt for him to swallow or breathe. His knees buckled from beneath him as his back slid down the wall, his body curling into a crouched position. He looped his hands behind his neck and tugged his face into his knees, the familiar darkness comforting him. He wanted to scream until his throat refused to; punch something until his knuckles were pink, kick a box, bite down on a towel until his gums ached, throw a glass at a wall and watch it shatter into pieces, thrash around until his limbs went numb from the buzz of blood circulation. 

He wanted to cry but he didn’t; he wanted to feel the tears as they trailed down his face. He wanted to feel the burning sensation of them trailing down his skin each time he wiped them away, cheek stinging even more after he did. 

He needed to cry but he couldn’t. 

“Do you wanna go wake him up, Taehyung?” Seokjin asked, his voice waking Yoongi up from his daze. It was more of a gentle command than a question, really. “He never gets mad at you for waking him up.” 

On cue, Yoongi walked into the kitchen and pretended to rub his eyes as if he were still sleepy. Sitting at the table, he blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. “Wow, you actually managed to cook something and not burn my place down.” His chest was still sore and all he wanted to do was crawl back into bed, but there was also a part of him that was genuinely impressed by the setup. 

“Hey, we’re not all like Namjoon.” Hoseok poked fun at him again and twirled his spatula as if it were a hypnotist wand. 

“At least I made sure the water was boiling,” Joon mumbled under his breath. 

Yoongi had no energy to smile, but he managed to lift the edges of his lips into the ghost of one. “I’m starving,” he spoke as his voice cracked a little. 

The dinner table was already set and they just needed to bring some spare plates over. As everyone began gathering around the food, Yoongi felt the swelling in his chest begin to calm down. He was still having trouble breathing deep breaths, but it was better. Better than nothing. 

“Want some water?” Jungkook offered, face still flushed red from laughing earlier. 

“Thanks,” Yoongi accepted. He patted the youngest on the head and ruffled his hair like the high school days. Looking around, he studied every single face of his friends, admiring traits he hadn’t really taken the time to appreciate before.

Pouring him a glass, the boys soon joined Yoongi at the table, wine glass in hand. Hoseok handed the extra one he had brought to Yoongi, sneaking him a wink. A grin spread across his lips.

Jimin passed around the bottle of white wine as Taehyung cracked open a mini bottle of red for himself.  All eyes darted towards the second youngest, causing him to raise his hands in defense. “Chardonnay gives me a hangover sometimes!” 

“Mhm,” Jungkook hummed. “Totally the chardonnay.” 

Another circle of laughter encompassed the table. Right as they were about to start eating, Hoseok remembered that he forgot to take the pasta out from the saucepan. 

Namjoon stood up so fast, he didn’t have time to voice his pain when his toe struck against the table leg. “I’ll get it!” he volunteered before anyone could stop him. The dining table was right beside the kitchen so why was he in such a rush? 

The others trusted him enough with a simple task like pouring something out of a pan into a dish. At least, that was until the boy decided the pasta was lacking a little bit of “zest,” so to speak.  

“Jungkook, where’d you put the basil?” he asked while shuffling through the refrigerator. 

"In the fridge, second drawer,” Jungkook answered, going back to take a bite of his steak. “Why?” 

“The pasta needs some green!” he said with far too much energy in his voice. 

Jimin, Taehyung, Seokjin, Hoseok, Jungkook, and Yoongi all looked at one another with the same puzzled expression before shrugging it off. That classical fiction analysis class was probably making him go kooky. The peace lasted for about half a second until Namjoon asked where Jimin had put the knife. 

Their calm expressions immediately turned into ones of sheer terror as they looked at each other and scrambled out of their seats at the speed of light.

“Namjoon!” they screamed in unison. 

Kat nearly dislocated her jaw. “He texted you again? What did he say? Did you text him back? What did you say? Was he being a dick again? How—”

You smacked your hand across her mouth in an effort to shut her up. Her overzealous energy was really a double-edged sword. On certain days, you absolutely thrived on it. On days like this, you hated it with a burning passion more than you hated maidenhair ferns. They were beautiful in theory but were a bitch to keep happy. 

“Kat,” you stopped. “I love you and I would do anything for you, but I really need you to just shut up for right now, okay?” Nodding slowly at your request, you carefully peeled your hand off of her mouth. 

“Are you okay?” she asked instead, much calmer than before. “You seem a little off.” 

Sighing, you decided it would just be better if you showed her the texts. 

Douchebag: hey ______, is this ur number? [ 2:22 p.m.] 

Douchebag: i got a new phone that’s y [ 2:23 p.m.]

                                                                                         You: yea [ 2:29 p.m.] 

Douchebag: how’ve you been [ 2:35 p.m.] 

                                                                             You: good, you? [ 2:42 p.m.] 

Douchebag: {download image.jpeg} [ 2:44 p.m.]

Douchebag: I wanted to snap u this cuz I was wearing the sweater you got me but I guess u don’t have snap lol [ 2:45 p.m.]

                                                                   You: I deleted all of my apps                                                                               and never got back to                                                                                        reinstalling them, sorry [ 2:50 p.m.]

Scrolling through the rest of the messages, Kat scoffed in disbelief. “I knew he was scum, but catching up after three years of nothing and acting like everything is peachy keen is a new level of assholery,” she rambled on. 

You rolled your eyes, resting your elbow on the counter and palm cradling your temple. “What can I say. I definitely know how to pick them well.” 

“And the goddamn audacity of him to send a shirtless pic, masking it as a ‘thank-you for buying me that sweater’ schtick?” she growled, fist clenching around nothing while picturing his face.

“An absolute disgrace,” you tagged along. 

“It’s not your fault, ______,” Kat soothed. “I would’ve fallen for his mind games too if he charmed me like that.” She took a sip of her iced coffee and shook her head vigorously. “God he makes me want to punch him in his stupid ugly face with that stupid dumb grin and those stupid poofy curls in his stupid misshaped head—”

“Kat,” you warned again, begging her to calm down. Her vernacular wasn’t the best, but damn was it amusing at times. “We just texted back and forth to kill some time. It didn’t mean anything and it’s not happening again.” It felt like you were trying to convince yourself more than her. 

She studied your expression carefully before deciding what to say next. “If he ever crosses the line again, call me.” Placing her hand over your free hand, she gave it a good squeeze. The edges of your lips curved into the tiniest smile and you instantly felt at ease. 

“Have I ever told you how lucky and grateful I am to have met you?” you chuckled, ignoring the throbbing in your temple that started early in the morning. 

Tossing her hair behind her shoulders like an actress from the Golden Age of Hollywood, her teeth glimmered like diamonds against the bright red lipstick she had on. “As am I, my pumpkin patch sweet pea,” she beamed.

Covering your face to hide your painful grin, the door chimed, welcoming a customer. You fanned your face to calm down your rosy cheeks. “Welcome!” you greeted with your usual bright tone. 

“Don’t touch anything,” someone criticized, the quiet sound of a hand smacking skin resounding through the small shop. 

“I didn’t!” another voice, most likely the one who was scolded, replied in an irritated whisper. 

Sitting up straight, you saw three young men standing right by where the glass terrarium displays were set up. You’d recognize that toothy smile and round face anywhere.

“Jungkook!” Finally getting out of your chair, you couldn’t help but be excited to see his face again. Kat’s eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as she stared back and forth between you and the guys with a blatant, “are you kidding me, you met a cute guy and didn’t bother mentioning it to me” face.

Poking the shoulder of his friend who was scolded, Jungkook greeted you with his signature smile and energetic wave. “______! Namjoon, Jimin, this is ______.” 

The taller one shook your hand. “Nice to meet you,” he spoke gently with a close-lipped smile and sensed a child-like wisdom from him that you couldn’t exactly put your finger on. It didn’t help that his horn-rimmed glasses made him look like a teacher and a student. 

“Jimin, wonderful to meet you.” The shorter-statured boy addressed you with a nearly angelic tone, voice softer than what you’d imagine clouds to feel like between your fingertips. His silver-dyed hair added to his overall ethereal aura.

Still sat at the counter, a starstruck Kat greeted the three with more confidence and gusto than you could ever muster. “Honored to meet you, I’m Kathryn but please call me Kat.” She strummed her fingers in the air as if she were plucking a harp. Jungkook, Jimin, and Namjoon grinned, already sensing the quirky nature of her personality. Yup, Kat’s so-called “Kat-Attack” was definitely contagious. 

If you had a dollar for every time you blushed because of Jungkook and/or his friends, you’d have enough money to buy your own greenhouse—and live in said greenhouse. It wasn’t until Kat forcefully coughed up her left lung out that you registered how long you had been shaking Jimin’s hand. Pulling away abruptly, you let out an awkward chuckle. This was totally not weird at all—just three attractive, charming, attractive young men who waltzed into your shop on an ordinarily quiet day. Nothing weird. God, you were making it so weird—

“I’m gonna go get some coffee, do you guys want anything?” Kat asked out of the blue. If she was going to do what you think she was about to do...

“No, that’s alright,” Jimin turned down kindly. “We stopped by a café on the way here, but thank you for offering.” 

“No problem at all!” Kat smirked just the slightest bit while saying this as if she’d gotten away with a bank heist. “I’ll see you after work, ______!” As she was walking outside, you saw her shoot you a mischievous wink through the glass before running off. 

“So,” you started, trying your best to carry on the conversation as if you weren’t the most socially awkward human in the world. “What brings you and your friends in today?” 

Jungkook, still as shy as ever, ruffled his hair lightly out of habit. “Well, you see, me Taehyung, and another friend of ours moved into an apartment a while back, and it still doesn’t feel...” he paused, trying to think of the right word. “—homey enough.” 

While listening to Jungkook, Jimin and Namjoon were exploring the shop, taking in everything they could with their eyes, smelling what they could with their nose, and feeling every leaf and petal with their fingertips. 

“We’re not the roommates,” Namjoon joked. “He dumped us ‘a while back.’” He acted out air quotes around the last three words. You held back a snort. 

“He didn’t dump us, Joon,” Jimin corrected. “He found someone else who makes him happier.” Jimin pouted, raising the back of his hand to his forehead and sniffling like a kid. 

Jungkook rolled his eyes and scoffed. “These two goofballs are with my other friend,” he clarified. “Taehyung, Seokjin and I have a pretty hectic schedule because of, you know...” Jungkook’s face was dusted with a shade of pink, clearly still too bashful to admit that he was a model. 

“I understand,” you nodded, still biting the inside of your cheek to refrain from smiling too much. “So you, Taehyung, and Seokjin share an apartment while Jimin, Namjoon, and—?” Trailing the sentence off with a higher pitched voice, Jimin got the message. 

“Hoseok,” he finished for you. “He’s an even bigger dolt than me and Joon combined, trust me.” The image he painted made you giggle.

Eventually, you arrived at the best conclusion you could form with the information given. “Right, so the six of you are best friends and live in two apartments.” 

“In theory, yes,” Namjoon established. “But we also have Yoongi who lives by himself.” 

“He’s the guy who Taehyung and I came in asking advice for?” Jungkook clarified, helping you recall back to the first time you met them. 

You heard Jimin exhale deeply. “He’s sort of like the dad of our group, if you know what I mean. Quiet, kind of emotionally detached but in reality just doesn’t know how to express himself—that kind of thing.” 

“Oh.” It slipped out by accident and sounded more melancholic than you thought. You tried coming up with something to neutralize your slip-up. “I’m really glad he has you guys as family.” 

Jimin and Jungkook gave you a heartfelt smile—then there was a thud. 

Turning around, Namjoon was hiding his face behind his hand while rubbing his temple. The grow light that was hanging still from the ceiling was now swinging back and forth like a pendulum. 

You were wincing as if you felt his pain secondhand. “Are you okay?” 

He nodded too quickly as if trying to convince you that he was really okay. “Fine. Good. Flower shop. Plants need light. Forgot about the dangling lights. A lot of them.” he sputtered like a morse code machine. 

Turning back to Jungkook and Jimin, they too had their faces buried in their hands out of sheer embarrassment. Sometimes, people found it hard to believe that Namjoon was that clumsy in his actions, but even harder for Jungkook and Jimin to tell them that he was their senior. 

“Anyway,” Jungkook coughed. “Our new place looks kind of uninviting and Jimin thought adding a couple of plants might make it more cozy.” 

Jimin had made his way to the syngoniums and rhaphidophoras. “We have better luck with plants than Namjoon and Yoongi. They don’t exactly have the greenest thumbs.” 

Chuckling, you directed their attention to the macrame the 6-inch pothos n’joy that cascaded from the ceiling. Coincidentally, Namjoon was inspecting that exact one. Perfect. “Actually, he’s a pretty forgiving little guy.” Stepping up the ladder and bringing him down, Jungkook’s eyes grew big and his hands flew out to hold the ladder steady. “Thanks,” you blushed again.  

Holding the plant up close now, you let them admire the creamy white variegation, watercolor patches of green, lighter patches of green, and the lush leaves. You also showed them the golden pothos, which was a more of a typical chlorophyll green, but it had beautiful yellow and white specks of variegation throughout the foliage. 

“I’m assuming you’re all still beginners,” you inferred, to which they all nodded in agreement. “These guys need lots of bright light, but don’t press them up against a window or they’ll get sunburn,” continuing to explain. 

“Water them every few weeks and wait until they’re bone dry, then give them a good, thorough drench. Don’t overwater them or they’ll hate you for it, trust me. They rarely ever need fertilizer, but I’ll give you guys some packets to last you a couple of months.” 

“Can we take them all home?” Jimin gawked, head tilted up towards the sky and staring at the ceiling that was ornate with vining, trailing, hanging, and branching foliage. 

An amused laughter left your lips. “I wish you could, but the next time you come and visit I’ll let you take one of those home,” you promised. “If you want another eye-candy foliage one, you could also take home a brasil.” Holding up the heart-leafed philodendron, the neon yellow stripes down the median of each leaf and clusters of light and dark green looked like they were hand-painted.

“Oh me, me, me!” Jimin’s hand shot up in the air, flapping it back and forth vigorously. 

“Could I take one of these too?” Namjoon inquired with a 6-inch pot in hand. “Rhaphid—off... fera—?” he tried to sound out, earning another giggle from you. 

“Rhaphidophora tetrasperma but it’s more commonly known as a mini monstera,” you clarified. He formed his lips into an o shape, caressing the delicate split-leaved foliage. “I think you’d be more than able to take care of that one.” Jungkook coughed to hide his snort. 

“We’ll make sure he doesn’t drown it,” Jimin assured, throwing you a sly wink. Add another dollar to your bank account, would you? 

“Hello, last time I checked we came here to buy housewarming gifts for my house?” Jungkook reminded them in the form of a rhetorical question. 

You patted him on the shoulder to wipe the pout off his face. “There’s more than enough plant love to go around.” 

“We’re gonna be here all day...” Jimin sighed in content, gently feeling the fuzzy leaves of some African violets. “Say sorry to my bank account for me, will you?” 

“I second that,” Namjoon added. “What on earth is this?” Holding up a 2-inch grow pot, you pursed your lips at his dumbfounded expression, eyebrows raised and wrinkled at the odd looking succulent. 

“It’s a lithops.” His face contorted more at your reply “They’re also known as living stones. As they grow, they split in half and pop out little baby lithops.” 

Blinking to process what he had just heard, Jimin groaned and shielded his eyes. “Don’t say it, Joon.” Looking closer at the plant Joon was holding, Jungkook parted his mouth—

“It looks like a lil’ol buttcrack,” Namjoon pointed out bluntly. The three of you let out a synchronous sigh and buried your faces into your hands, but couldn’t help and burst into laughter right after. 

“We are going to be here all day, aren’t we,” Jungkook said muffled through his hands still covering his face.

After the last crappy 72 hours, you were more than grateful to have them keep you company for the day. "I’m more than happy to make some new friends while doing my job.” The words flowed freely from your mind, excited to get to know them better. 

After sending each of the guys home with enough plants they could manage to carry, you closed up the shop for the day. Kat texted you right after the guys left in a panic. She completely blanked about the gala she had to attend for her design and commerce class and was running to catch the metro. You could tell she was still adamant on wearing her fashionable but not functional cube-heeled oxfords, as her texts were a mixture of all-caps lock and garbled, choppy sentences. 

As you made your way back to your apartment, you couldn’t help but hear a jumble of voices arguing with each other in your head.

Text him back, he misses you. 

Don’t. He’s just using you to get what he wants again. He’ll leave just like that last time. Remember last time? You don’t want that to happen again do you?

Scum. Dirtbag. Trash. User.

What if he means it this time? 

Asshole. Player. Heartbreaker. 

Maybe he’s changed. 

Don’t do it. Put your phone down.

What if he actually misses me? What if it’s different this time? Just text him. Nothing bad will happen if you text him once. 

Everything bad that can happen will happen, it’s only a matter of—

The slamming of your door seemed to silence the conflicting pieces of your collective conscience. Leaning against the door, you clicked your lock and pressed your hand against your chest, willing yourself to calm down.

You tossed your keys onto the counter and jumped into the shower as soon as you threw your clothes into the laundry basket. The steam engulfed your body with a pleasant heat, releasing the tension in your neck and shoulders that had built up from the sleepless nights in bed. 

After spending a little less than an hour in your makeshift steam sauna, you remembered that you actually had utility bills to pay. You quickly got out of the shower and slipped on your usual attire of joggers and an old shirt. The place was chilly, so you slipped on a cardigan for good measure. With your hair wrapped in a towel, you searched through your fridge for something to eat.

“Damn.” The words left your lips before you could stop them. 

Of course, it was pretty much empty. You were so caught up with spring orders for the past few weeks, you didn’t get a chance to stop by the grocery store on your way home. Settling on half of a turkey sandwich leftover from yesterday, you were grateful you still had a few cans of soda left to compliment tonight’s gourmet feast. 

You made yourself comfortable on your couch that was arranged right across your balcony. There was no use in having a TV if you couldn’t afford to pay the electric bills, and you wanted to utilize the limited space of your studio to its fullest. The fizz of the soda nearly made you choke. It had been a hot minute since you had soda, relying purely on coffee for the past few years to give you that caffeine boost. 

The sound of sirens wailing echoed throughout the city and pierced through the hum of traffic with ease. Leaning your head back into the dense cushion, you closed your eyes and listened; the relentless thumping of your upstairs neighbors, probably having another night of friends over; the faint shouts from the restaurant across the street that was overflowing with diners, typical of a Friday night; the gentle whisper of cold air that bled through the crack of your sliding balcony door. You needed to get that fixed ages ago. 

The food wasn’t going down well. It was that damn soda. Putting down the last few bits of the sandwich, you stood up and stepped outside onto your balcony. The lights flickered on and you admired the plant shelves you’d set up a few days after moving in. It was a teeny tiny space, but the luscious array of green, pinks, reds, white, and every color in between made it all the more bearable. 

You propped your elbow up against the rail that guarded the edge and breathed in for four seconds, held it for five, and exhaled for six. It was working, right? Your hands came up to the sockets of your eyes, applying the slightest bit of pressure to them. There were days where you really wanted to sleep for days on end; a hibernation, if you will. Today was most definitely one of those days. There was one problem—how were you supposed to fall asleep if you were too afraid to?

You were scared of seeing him in your dreams. Not even dreaming about him, no—the fear of encountering him as a random stranger while you were on your way to the floral market or a jogger passing by on your stroll in the park. His face resurfaced in flashes The glimpses of your favorite memories together were now inescapable bursts composed of your worst nightmares. 

You hated him. You loathed him with all of your heart, despised him with every fiber of your being and with every single living cell in your body. You wanted to forget about him; you wanted to forget he ever existed and that he ever met you. Every single moment you shared with him and every second you wasted pining over whether he loved you back; you wanted those years of your life back. 

But you knew better than anyone that time was never forgiving, and you would never get to relive those years ever again.

The funny thing—actually the hilarious thing—was that you hated yourself more than you hated him. You hated yourself for being the one who introduced yourself to him at that stupid party; you never should have gone to that stupid fucking party. You were such an idiot, what were you thinking? 

All those days, months, and years you spent constantly hovering over your phone, begging and pleading for him to send you a text. Something, anything to acknowledge that he still knew your name and to give you the opportunity to manipulate it into meaningless signals, then use that to convince yourself that he actually did care about you. 

You couldn’t remember for the life of you how or why you started falling for him. You both agreed to it no-strings-attached. No cuddles, no aftercare, no dates, and definitely no kissing in front of other people or hugging each other. He said his reputation would be ruined if his friends found out about you two. 

In love with the idea of being in love, you agreed without a second thought. No feelings, no crossing the line. Simple. 

Until he started breaking the rules. 

He’d get jealous of you hanging out with other guys, blowing up your phone with questions and angry paragraphs along the lines of “You’re not going to parties anymore unless it’s with me” and “I can’t believe you hung out with Aaron of all people. You know he’s a complete fuck up, right?” 

 Then he started caring—at least, acting like he did. Pretending. Faking. Lying. Masquerading. Call it whatever you will. He held you close to his chest after spending time with you in his bed, wrapping you under the covers to keep you warm. You’ll never forget the warmth of his chest as his heartbeat thumped against your ear. His fingers traced the outline of your face when he thought you were asleep, never knowing that you did everything in your power to hold back your smile. Then there were times when he’d leave you right after, making an excuse about a night out with his friends or a project due tomorrow. It was always due tomorrow. Other times he would go to the bathroom and then come back to throw you a towel. 

“My roommates will be here any minute. You should hurry up,” he’d warn.

Case and point, his games worked. After three years, you were head over heels for him. The memory of how it ended was blocked from your mind. Anytime you tried to remember that day, you always ran into a concrete wall. It was almost as if you built it to protect yourself from something, but what? 

The only thing you could recall were the tears. Maybe they were his too, but you vividly remember yours. They flooded your vision with a cloudy film, overflowing in streams and trails down your face and even causing you to choke on them. And the screaming—god, the screaming... More memories flooded in as your hands cupped your ears.

“I’m sorry, okay?! I’m sorry that I want what’s best for you and that you can’t see how much I care. I’m sorry for being so blind and seeing you for who I wanted you to be, that I couldn’t see you for who you truly are! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

Shutting your eyes tightly, you felt a drop of wetness fall dribble down your cheek. You were crying again. A sniffle followed the scoff that came out of your mouth. What, three years have already passed since then? Three years and you were still crying over that asshole? 

Wiping at your face with the rough fabric of your sleeve, you bit your lip to concentrate on something else. You stared at nothing to the point where everything looked blurry and your eyes stung. The temperature suddenly dropped, indicated by your shivering. You couldn’t afford to get sick and hurried back inside. 

Before you knew it, the clock had struck 11:00 p.m. and you were not the slightest bit sleepy. Sheltered in the safety of your own home, you had an idea that would not only get your mind out of the rut you’d fallen into, but also . Digging through scraps of loose paper, dry pens, and trash in general, you found your old earbuds. They worked perfectly fine, okay? Why fix something when it’s not broken? 

Plugging them into your phone because yes—you had a phone which was one of the dying species that still had a headphone jack—you turned on your favorite playlist (appropriately titled stre$$ed) and commenced dancing in your room like someone from the 70′s. The only thing missing was a pair of flare-cut jeans, a splotchy tie-dyed shirt, and a pair of Kat’s over-the-top disco boots.

Even though your neighbors were assholes about keeping it down after lights out, you chose to be the bigger person and take their residence into consideration. Mouthing the words silently and jumping as softly as you could, your damp hair stuck to the edges of your face and flung around, hitting your cheek a couple of times. Truth be told, you were far past the point of caring. 

Each time your foot came thumped against the plush carpet was an invigorating strike; every head bob was a liberating release; each labored breath and winded puff felt like the exact opposite, a breath of fresh air.

An escape. 

You flopped onto the bed with a heavy exhale, trying to catch your breath. Panting, your face felt hot and every part of your lungs burned like you were being roasted alive on a bonfire. The back of your hand felt cool against your forehead and your eyes began drooping at the soothing touch. Before you could pull the covers up, darkness engulfed your senses and you were out like a light. 

Yoongi couldn’t sleep. He had counted backwards from one hundred, two hundred, five hundred, and maybe a thousand. He tried listening to a random playlist full of rain sounds, alpha waves, crickets, and a fireplace crackling. All that came from that was an unnecessary number of bathroom trips, ear scratching, skin itching, and throwing off the covers from the heat he was imagining.  

Sitting up in annoyance, Yoongi sat on the edge of his bed with his forehead resting on his hand, elbow propped up on his elbow. He couldn’t stop thinking. Thinking about his job, the deadlines he had to meet, the songs he had to make, lyrics that still needed to be written, phone calls and emails he needed to send out—he was supposed to call his mom during lunch. 

“Fuck,” he swore, rubbing his eyes again. Looking at his alarm clock, the time 12:12 a.m. was outlined in blue. He initially settled on the traditional red one while at the store, but Hoseok convinced him to opt for a more “peppy color.” Yoongi’s lips curved into a soft grin at the memory. Within seconds, his eyebrows knitted together into a frown and his eyes flickered, the subtle expression he bore moments ago now a stone cold gaze. 

No matter how hard he tried and how badly he wished and prayed, he couldn’t compel himself to cry. Despite his adamant concentration and determination, he didn’t shed a tear. Not being able to force it out without knowing what it was, proved to be absolutely suffocating. 

He tried focusing on something else. The lights, the city, the sounds—he needed to focus on something else. Gazing through the window he’d familiarized himself with, Yoongi took in the view. From his room, he was able to see a picturesque layout of where the biggest main streets of the city intersected. Through the fog, he could also make out the faint edges of the longest footbridge that ran across the skyline. Looking down, the warm glow of street lamps and building lights twinkled through the dark night like man-made stars. 

Lifting his head up to the apartment complex directly across from his, there were still a couple of lights on here and there. Yoongi felt validated in the sense that he wasn’t the only one who had sleepless nights. One by one, they started to fade, each apartment light turning off as someone’s hand flicked a lever and went to sleep. It was strangely relaxing to watch. After about twenty minutes of staring intently at every person tune out for the night, he narrowed his eyes at one that remained. 

Directly across from his apartment was the faint yellow glow of someone’s balcony light. He imagined the wonderful warmth radiating from it, closing his eyes to immerse himself in the imagination. Looking closer, Yoongi saw the shadow of a woman leaning on the railing. She was shivering. 

Bringing her hand up, she wiped at her face and started laughing—crying? He couldn’t see in the dark all that well. Trying to get a closer look, he forgot about the glass that separated him from the outside world and face planted the pane. Wincing in pain, he wrinkled his nose and inhaled sharply through his two front teeth. 

He shook it off and centered his vision back to the balcony opposite to his room, remembering to open the window this time. Cold air bit at his cheeks but he ignored it, determined to find what he had witnessed seconds ago. The girl was still leaning on the rail and was staring at seemingly nothing. Her shoulders hiccuped up every few seconds and hands came up to wipe her face again. 

Definitely crying. 

Yoongi was awestruck. How good did it feel to finally get it out? Was it worth it? Did it feel like you could breathe again? Yoongi soon realized that he was jealous—no, he envied her ability to weep; her ability to shed real, painful, cathartic tears. 

He envied the one thing he couldn’t have and would never be able to get. 

Following your movement back inside, he should’ve gone back to bed himself, but for some reason, he just couldn’t. His gut told him not to, but then again, that way of decision-making was a 50/50 bet. 

Whether it happened in the blink of an eye or this was all some sleep-deprived dream, she ended up going from crying her eyes out to dancing her heart out? She reminded Yoongi of Seokjin’s drunk dancing; good but not good, sane but not entirely, and so rhythmic yet incredibly off beat. Her vibrancy was contagious and made Yoongi smile a real smile for the first time in a while. If you told him that she had bawled herself delirious two minutes ago, he would have snorted. It looked as if she didn’t have a single worry or care in the world....

He felt like a creep. He shouldn’t be up, period. He should be sleeping, not spying on his neighbors. Worse, they weren’t even neighbors, had never met before, nor did they even come a foot close and live in the same building. 

Hell, that made it so much freaking worse. 

He sighed at how pathetic he felt. Was he that desperate for something he didn’t even know? Yoongi decided to call it a night. Crawling into his covers, they never seemed to keep him warm, no matter how tightly he wrapped himself in them. It was either searing hot discomfort paired with cold sweat or ice cold feet and teeth chattering. 

That night by whatever random laws of the universe he slept soundly. Not once did he shoot open his eyes from nightmares or stir in his sleep out of discomfort. Maybe it was from witnessing someone’s emotional outpours and experiencing them vicariously through his own means, or maybe it was the satisfaction of selecting all of his unread emails and archiving them until tomorrow, one thing was for sure—Yoongi had accomplished his goal of sleeping through an entire night; something he hadn’t done for years now... 

I’ll get out of it.

“I never thought I’d ever say this,” you started, trying to close your agape mouth. “But I think you guys might have one too many plants.” Looking at their coffee table, it was overflowing with the eight boxes you’d delivered this morning. Yes, there were eight boxes full of plants delivered to a single apartment. Marco would have the time of his life restocking for next week. Jungkook, Taehyung, Hoseok, Namjoon, and Jimin helped you carry up the boxes and were all staring at the ground sheepishly, their hands clasped behind their backs like children who were caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar. 

You offered to deliver the boxes to their places separately, seeing as they had different spaces and floor plans, but that cheeky bugger Taehyung convinced you to rendezvous at his place. Then you wouldn’t have to go through the trouble of walking back and forth between the shop and their corresponding buildings, and the guys would get a chance to meet you. 

Guilt gnawed at you for making them interrupt their daily schedules just to bring home some houseplants, but Jungkook insisted that they were all free for the next two weeks; spring break for Jimin, Namjoon, and Hoseok, pre-season break and scheduling bookings for Seokjin, Taehyung, and Jungkook. 

Meeting Seokjin for the first time and Taehyung for the second was a memorable experience, to put it lightly. You walked in on them running around half naked and throwing crumpled balls of clothes at each other. Turns out they had been arguing about who’s turn it was to do the laundry and neither of them were having it. Long story short, you lived life by the rule that first impressions were a good indicator of someone’s unfiltered, raw, underlying disposition, and in this case, it proved to be entirely true in the best way possible. 

“We’ll share, we promise.” Jimin was the first to break the silence but still had trouble meeting your gaze. 

Jungkook pointed an accusing finger at Seokjin and Taehyung, his turn to talk. “They didn’t believe us after they saw how many plants we came home with, so we figured we’d invite you over to meet them in person and see whether they convert or not.” 

“Safe to say that we are officially convinced,” Taehyung raised his hands in surrender, elbowing Seokjin to do the same. 

Hiding your smile by pressing your lips together, a tingling sensation spread across your face at his odd choice of words. When you reminded them about their hectic schedules and voiced your concern about them being able to keep up with care, Seokjin revealed his contract agreement with Hoseok. “He promised that he’d come by and water them whenever we’re out of town for longer than a week,” the eldest explained while biting back a smirk. “He kind of owes me a lifelong debt...” 

Forcing out a tight-lipped sideways grin, Hoseok slung his arm over Jimin’s shoulder, bearing a smirk of his own. “Don’t worry, Jimin here owes me a debt of his own.” 

A sly grin crept along Jimin’s face. "Considering that my lifelong debt doesn’t have to do with the fact that you bl—” Before he could finish, Seokjin and Hoseok’s hands flew up faster than lightning to cover the boy’s mouth. Taehyung nearly spit out his water and the others were near tears and clutching their abdomens, their mouths sealed tight and refusing to let out one of their pact’s biggest secrets. You admired how loyal and strong their bond was, a rare thing in this day and age.

Shaking your head to distract yourself from their incessant laughter, you pressed your hand over your forehead and widened your eyes in concentration. “Well, let’s get to organizing, shall we?” 

Unpacking the boxes one by one, each contained an array of species from pothos, philodendrons, syngoniums, hoyas, pileas, peperomias, baby rubber trees, rhaphidophoras, sansevierias, ZZ plants, money trees, and finally, two mature, green monsteras for each of them to keep in their living rooms. Not knowing what kind of lighting situation they had going on, you tried to limit your recommendations to medium-light tolerant plants. After they alerted you about their east and south-exposure windows, you were relieved in your selection. 

“I call the big guy,” Jungkook cooed, picking up the staked rhaphidophora and clutching it to his chest and smirking coyly. “For my room.” 

Seokjin whined loudly. “We live in the same apartment!” 

Taehyung let out a disappointed sigh and shook his head. “You see what I have to deal with every day?” 

Namjoon reached for the philodendron micans. “It’s like velvet!” he commented in awe as he felt the leaves. It was nicknamed the velvet-leaved philodendron after all, but his reaction made you feel fuzzy with plant love. 

“Woah this looks like an alien’s flying saucer,” Hoseok noted. Picking up the pilea, it never struck you that the round, green disks did, in fact, look like flying saucers. Once everyone was satisfied with what they were taking home (it ended up taking a lot less time than you predicted), you went to work arranging them around the living room, bedroom, and kitchen, all while explaining to them the water and light requirements, periodic maintenance, and looking out for pests.

You urged Jimin, Namjoon, and Hoseok to go back to their place first, assuring that you’d meet them there. They said it was no bother and wanted to witness your working process. You were just doing your job, but seeing them fascinated by your passion and vigor was much more endearing than you thought it would be.

Just as you were hanging the macrame pot by their balcony, you heard the front door click open. Taehyung, Jimin, and Namjoon were holding the step ladder steady for you. 

Since you were concentrating on getting the nail at the right angle, you paid no attention to it, assuming it was Hoseok or Jungkook going to recycle the used wrapping paper and packing materials. 

“Yoongi!” Jimin called out.

“Good to see you dude,” Taehyung beamed. “Sorry, our hands are kind of full.”

“Could’ve given me a heads up that you had a guest over,” he grumbled, but you couldn’t hear through the rustling of the leaves that smacked your face. 

The sound of footsteps grew louder from afar, then paused when you felt a presence behind you. “Jungkook,” you called out, turning your shoulder and looking down to where he was standing. “Do you mind grabbing the pliers from—” 

Here’s the thing you never understood about step ladders. Standing on them is considered a safety hazard, yet it’s method of use and reason for existence is to be stood on. You wished you remembered this when you decided to turn around and look down at Jungkook, except, it wasn’t Jungkook. It wasn’t Hoseok either. Despite not wearing a mask or beanie, you instantly recognized that cold gaze, piercing through yours like daggers. 

He was equally shocked and mirrored your exact reaction, eyes growing wide and mouth parting as if you were staring through double-sided plexiglass. 

“Yoongi, this is _____,” Jungkook introduced comfortably, conversation flowing freely from him. “______, this is Yoongi. The dad Jimin talked about.” While the boys broke into convulsions of laughter, you and Yoongi were still shellshocked. Of all the people that could be in this friend circle, it had to be the guy who crossed paths with you a few of times on the street?  

You didn’t register that you’d lost your footing from the ladder until the familiar weight of gravity tipped you over. The last thing you saw were multiple pairs of hands reaching out to try and catch you, but it was too late—your body collided into his before crashing onto the floor as one whole, the clear thud of wood against flesh echoing throughout the apartment. 

That’s definitely one way to make a first impression.

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

Little Secrets

for @nightimedreamersworld from the prompt list and tags you posted. Thanks to @ninemagicks for leading the way. 

From a tumblr prompt list by @mraculous and sent to the Carry On fandom by @nightimedreamersworld : ‘a mutual friend tried to introduce us, but we already knew each other from LARPing but we’re both too embarrassed to admit that so I jokingly said we used to date and oh god now our friend won’t stop interrogating us about it’ AU

Little Secrets, a Snowbaz LARPing AU (2774 words)

Simon

“Do you want to come over Friday? I can order in curry and I’ll even watch that Netflix thing you’re obsessed with, if you like,” Penny says, before taking another bite of her sandwich. I’ve already finished mine but I take the chance to steal one of her crisps. She never finishes them. I hate seeing them go to waste.

No one should ever bin salt and vinegar crisps. It’s a crime against humanity.  

It’s been harder to coordinate our schedules this term. Even meeting for lunch is a treat. We’ve not had a night in for weeks. It’s not as easy, now that we don’t live together.  

And it’s not often that Penny offers to let me decide what we watch. Says she’s got standards and I watch too much “brain numbing rot.”

Castlevania is not rot. It’s fucking brilliant. My costume for this campaign is based on Trevor Belmont. It’s wicked good.  

I’m gutted to have to turn her down though. Friday’s going to have to be a no. We’ve been gearing up for this campaign for weeks and I can’t miss it.  

“I’m sorry. I can’t Friday.”

Penny looks at me over the top of her glasses. “Why not?”

She doesn’t know about this. About the LARP club I joined. It’s something I started doing over the summer, when she was away in India with her family.  

I was bored. And lonely.

I don’t know why I haven’t mentioned it. It’s not that I’m embarrassed about it. I’m not. It’s a hell of a lot of fun swinging a sword around and taking part in campaigns. Even the costume workshops are entertaining.  

Everyone’s so friendly. Well, most of them are, at any rate.

Penny tends to frown upon things like this. Things that don’t serve a purpose. Making new friends doesn’t count as serving a purpose. She’s told me more than once that having too many friends is an unnecessary burden. “There’s only so many hours in a day, Simon. Two, three people, that’s all any of us have time for.”  

That’s all Penny has time for. I’m lucky to be one of her three people.  

Telling her I’m spending two nights a week LARPing with near strangers while dressed as a medieval monster hunter likely won’t go over too well.  

Especially as that amounts to two nights a week I’m not doing my coursework or revising. Sacrilege.  

“Uh. I’ve got . . . uh, there’s a study group.”  

“On a Friday night?” Her eyes widen.  

“Yes.” The shorter the answer the better with Penny. I can’t get caught in a lie if I’m barely saying anything.

“For which class?”

Fuck it all. I can feel my leg starting to jiggle. She’ll know the gig is up if I don’t answer soon.  

“Medieval Literature.” Thank fuck I’m actually taking that class this semester or she’d be onto me.  

It’s not that far off, anyway. Most of the costumes qualify as Medieval.

“Dedicated lot.”

“Quite.”

“It’s good to see you being so devoted to your studies, Simon, what with applications for graduate programs coming up.”

As if I needed the reminder.

“Maybe we can try to find some time next week, then.”

“That’d be great.” I reach out to steal another crisp. She smacks my hand away. “I do miss you, Pen.”

Penny pushes the bag of crisps over to me with a sigh, but she’s smiling. “I miss you too, Si.”

It’s not until the next week that we manage to make plans. And it’s not for curry and Netflix.

We’re at Foyles, having spent the last hour listening to one of Penny’s favorite poets do a reading and a Q & A. Penny’s dead gone for Nikita Gill. I thought it was mostly because she’s a femininst and Indian but I see the point, now that I’ve heard her read from her latest book. She’s brilliant.

Penny’s in line to get her book signed and I’m just sort of shuffling along with her, feeling like a bit of a tit, seeing as I’ve not got a book myself.

Should I? I feel I ought to at least have something, but it’s too late now, we’re almost to the signing table.

Predictably, Penny gets into an intense conversation with the author while I stand there, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably and nodding every so often. The store clerk finally gets Penny to shove off. She drags it out for another minute and then we’re finally clear of that scene.

I’m ready to head to the pub for a bite, but Penny stops down the line to talk to someone from her seminar and I’m left at loose ends again. It’s mostly uni types in the crowd, nearly all of them intense and bright eyed as they talk over each other now and indulge in some excitable hand waving. There’re a few blokes here and there, moody looking types with man-buns, horn rimmed glasses, and oversized jumpers. I recognize one or two from my classes but no one I know well.

Penny stops to talk to another person and I’m in despair over dinner. I wander over to a book display and idly flip through some paperbacks as I wait for her. Thankfully it’s not more than a few minutes later when I hear her call out to me. “Simon!”

I trot over, more than ready to make a run for the pub but her first words aren’t “let’s get out of here.”

“Si, I want you to meet my friend.”

Oh, fuck. We’re never going to get to the pub at this rate. I plaster a smile on my face and turn to say ‘ hello’ to whoever it is Penny is bound and determined to have me meet.

And I freeze.

“This is Baz. He’s in my Modern British Poets seminar and he’s almost as keen about vampire lore as you are.”

I raise my eyes and meet Baz’s cool stare, that one eyebrow of his arched as he meets my gaze.

Fuck. I don’t need to be introduced to Baz. I know Baz. He’s the Mage in our campaign. He’s a fucking ruthless one too, dead brill with his spells, even though he’s a bit shit when he’s got to do any swordwork.

That was my main job on the summer campaign--give him cover so he could cast his spells and decipher his runes and whatever else it is that Mages do.

I’m front line offense now--cut down anyone in my path, long before they can get near the rest of our party. It’s up to Gareth and Niall to have Baz’s back this time around.

I can’t very well pretend I don’t know him, but I really don’t want to be explaining that I’m in a LARP club to Penny in the middle of this bookstore, not in front of Baz.

Fuck.

I give Baz a pleading look which I’m sure only confuses him, based on the way his eyebrow arches up even more. I don’t know how to convey “don’t tell Penny you know me from the Dragonknight campaign” with just my eyes.

“I’m well acquainted with Simon, Bunce.”

I am well and truly fucked.

“You two know each other?” Penny gives me a penetrating look.

Baz keeps talking. “Yes, we’ve been--” but I interrupt him before he can say anything more.

“He’s my ex.”

I have literally no idea why I said that. And there’s no taking it back, now that it’s out there.

Two sets of eyes goggle at me, both of Baz’s eyebrows reaching for his hairline now. Penny looks scandalized.

“Your what?” she asks.

“My ex-boyfriend,” I clarify, literally begging Baz to go along with this with my eyes. I probably look like a gormless twat. Just go along with it, I try to broadcast that thought across the two feet of space between us.

“Your ex-boyfriend,” Penny says flatly. “How do I not know about this, Simon?”

Baz looks just as curious, but thank Christ he doesn’t say anything.

“Oh, you now, summer romance, short-lived fling, gone but not forgotten.” I’m literally babbling.

“Very short lived,” Baz says drily. “So short lived I’d be surprised if he had mentioned it, Bunce.” He’s smirking, the smug bastard. Arms crossed over his chest, that one fucking eyebrow mocking me now.

“Yes, ah, you know, summer.”

“I’d say I don’t know at all, Simon.” Penny’s looking between us, a suspicious look on her face. “Why don’t you fill me in. I’d love to hear about my best friend and my study partner getting together and me being none the wiser.”

Baz is full on grinning now. “Yes, why don’t you tell her, Simon? Unless you’d rather I did?”

I think the fuck not.

“Ah. Well. You know we met  . . . ah . . . at the library.”

“What on earth were you doing at the library?”

What the fuck was I doing at the library? I never go to the library and Penny knows that.

Fuck.

“Wasn’t that when your laptop was being wonky?” Baz chimes in.

I scowl at him. Only one of us needs to be fabricating this tale and that someone is me.

“At least that’s what I remember you saying, when you came in that night.”

Bloody hell.

“Uh, yeah. That’s what it was. Had to come in and do a lit search on premises.”

“It’s a good thing I was working the desk that night,” Baz says, uncrossing his arms and sliding his hands into his jeans pockets.

My eyes follow his hands down and keep going.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Baz in jeans before. Tunics? Yes. Majestic robes? Yes.

Elegant, fitted jeans that are snug all the right spots? Well, I’d remember seeing that before, is all I’m saying.

I drag my eyes back up to his face. “Uh, yes, um, good thing.”

I didn’t know he worked at the library.

“Simon came in, just before closing time, with the idea that he was going to do a search and print it all out in mere minutes.” He’s really warming to the subject and I’ve lost control of this whole situation.

“Typical,” Penny says and I’m outraged.

“What?” I sputter.

She nods her head at Baz. “He gave you those puppy dog eyes and that crooked little smile of his, didn't he?”

“Now, see here, I’m the one telling the story and–”

But Baz steamrolls right over me. “Oh, you know he did, Bunce.” He gives me a fond look that makes my face heat up.

What’s he playing at? I rub at the back of my neck, feel the clammy sweat starting to form there.

“Got you to do the whole thing for him, didn’t he?”

This is pure slander. I’m not going to stand for this.

“I couldn’t resist his roguish charm.”

“Listen, now--”

Baz just keeps talking. “I had no idea he was such a shameless flirt.” He shakes his head at me and actually manages to look almost mournful, the lying bastard. “Charmed me, wined me, dined me. But once his laptop was functional and the research project complete, just a few short weeks later, he dumped me without a second thought.”

“Simon!” Penny’s glaring at me now. She’s bought his whole fabrication and I’ve got no one but myself to blame for this farce.

“Just wait a bloody minute!” I yelp.

Baz hunches his shoulders and lowers his head. “By text, no less.”

“Really, Simon, how could you?” Penny’s all righteous indignation, her hand coming to rest on Baz’s arm, eyes blazing as she rakes her gaze over me. “I go away for a few weeks and you not only manage to seduce my friend but then unceremoniously dump him by text? You know better than that. You were a bloody wreck when Agatha did that to you!”

And now she’s airing my entire sordid dating history to Baz in the middle of a bloody Foyles on a Thursday night and I’ve not even had dinner. This takes the biscuit, I swear to god.

“Penny, listen, it was nothing like that, really, I swear.”

She’s got her arms crossed over her chest. “Then how was it, Simon?” Cold as ice. You’d think Baz was her best friend and confidant, not me.

This is a fucking disaster. I’d have been better off telling her about the LARPing.

I am going to tell her about the LARPing. It’s the only way out of this mess.

“Listen, Pen, I’m sorry. I thought you’d be upset I was wasting my time--”

“Wasting your time?” Baz interrupts. “Is that what you’re calling our two weeks, then?”

“That’s not what I meant!” I’m going to let a berserker just go by me and wreck Baz this week, I swear I am. Won’t even brandish my sword at him, I’ll just point him in Baz’s direction. It’d serve the bastard right. “Listen, Penny, I was going to tell you, but I was a bit embarrassed--”

“As well you should be, the way you behaved.” Penny interrupts me this time and I have reached my fucking limit.

“Would the two of you let me finish one bloody sentence?”

Two expectant faces meet mine but I swear there’s a glint in Baz’s eyes and his lips quirk like he’s trying to keep himself from laughing. Arsehole. I may go after him myself this week, if he’s not careful. Go rogue. It’d be worth it, just to wipe the smug look off his face.

He’s got his hair down tonight. I don’t know why I didn’t notice that earlier. He’s usually got it up when we’re–fucking hell, why am I thinking about his hair right now?

“Ok, so let me finish what I’ve got to say or I swear to Christ I am going to go off.” Baz inclines his head and waves a hand at me in a ‘have at it’ gesture. Penny frowns but holds her tongue. “So, while you were gone this summer I got a bit caught up in LARPing.”

“You did what?” Penny asks.

“LARPing. Live action role play.”

“Whatever for?”

“I don’t know. For something to do.”

“And why are you telling me this now?”

I pull at my hair and groan. “Because that’s how I met Baz. He’s not my ex. I’ve never gone out with him. I just made that all up, rather than tell you about the whole LARP business.”

“Why on earth would you concoct all that nonsense, Simon?” Penny’s looking completely perplexed but Baz has this cheeky grin, the absolute wanker.

He’s got a dimple in his left cheek.

Fuck.

“Because I thought you’d be irritated. It’s not something that serves a purpose.”

“Why would I care what you do with your free time?”

Oh my fucking god.

I give my hair another yank. “Aren’t you always telling me I should spend more time on my studies? Keep my social life a bit more contained?”

Penny has the audacity to shrug. “I’m not your keeper. If you need to swing a sword around to let off some steam, far be it from me to argue.”

She turns to Baz and smacks him on the arm. “What were you thinking, going along with all this nonsense of his tonight? I’d not expect that kind of foolishness from you, Baz.”

Baz leans against a bookshelf and flashes her a grin. “Let’s just say my curiosity was piqued, when he threw that ex comment out there. And you know how I love to spin a good story, Bunce. He certainly wasn’t going to pull one over on you by himself.” His eyes light on me and there’s something smouldering in the depths of them. Something I’d like to get a closer look at.

“Well, you’re ridiculous, the both of you,” Penny says. “You deserve each other, honestly.” She shakes her head. “Anyway, I’m starved. It’s past time we went to dinner.”  

“Enjoy the rest of your evening.” Baz’s eyes never leave mine. “I’ll see you Friday then, Snow?”

He used my LARPing alias.

I liked it better when he was calling me Simon.

Penny hooks her arm around his. “Come join us, Baz. Since you and Simon already know each other so well.”

He adjusts his book bag on his shoulder. “I suppose I could do with some dinner.”

Penny keeps her hold on his arm and leans back to look at me behind Baz’s back.

And then she winks.

I think I’m the one that’s been played.

And when Baz’s knee knocks into mine as he squeezes into our booth at the pub I realise I don’t mind one bit.

also on ao3 Little Secrets

[gguktarts]

decathect | jjk (1)

1. to withdraw one’s feelings of attachment from (a person, idea, or object), as in anticipation of a future loss

summary: if one thing was clear to you when you first met Jeon Jungkook, it was that he would never love you. at least, not the way you wanted him to.

pairing: jjk x reader genre: unrequited love au? || angst || little fluff if u Squint || drabble series word count: 2.7k parts:  1 / ? | next » cw: uhh kinda unhealthy depictions of a crush, & jk is a fuckboy w lots of tatts and long hair so that deserves a warning on its Own i say

note: so,,, this was supposed to be a short fic bc i wanted my heart broken but it turned into a drabble series……………….we’ll see how that goes!!! rip

You’ve heard of him from your friends, and from their friends: about the infamous Jeon Jungkook and the reputation that precedes him. He’s, first and foremost, an art major — and an excelling one at that. In the short three years he’s been an undergrad, his work has been featured, so far, in a total of 4 major art exhibitions. His displayed work apparently sells rather quickly, too, which surely earns him more than enough money to successfully continue his various artistic endeavors and out-of-uni activities. You’ve heard he’s also into tattoos, boxing, and photography on the side, for example. Whether it was true or not was not something you focused on, but considering his friends were they ones telling the tales, you didn’t doubt it. Not that you thought of it often, or at all, really.

What you did question was why exactly he felt the need to stop by Taehyung’s very own, very private, and very expensive Goghrik’s Vancrylics paint collection to use instead of his own. You didn’t want to think him as cheap because, quite frankly, you knew nothing more than those whispered rumors and offhanded comments Jimin and Yoongi perpetrated on occasion. So, you settled for thinking nothing until you could get concrete answers. 

For a long time Jungkook remained a simple ghost, until finally one day he just existed. Everywhere, and then, always. As if meeting him once meant he’d open the door to your home to welcome himself as an indefinite guest, you suddenly had no week free of his presence or his trace. Like a growing avalanche you learned about him with repeated increase, sometimes by choice, and sometimes by mere coincidence. Maybe it was pure coincidence, too, how you came to fall for him — for Jeon Jungkook, the artist, the fuckboy. With time though, you came to a different understanding.

Liking Jungkook was no coincidence.  It was a curse – a long, and tediously everlasting hex you’d so far failed to get rid of.  

And it all started, you begrudgingly admit sometimes, with some paint and very little luck.

Being in one of the most prestigious Universities in the country naturally means you consistently face the demon of a huge – nay, an enormous campus. A wide lake rests between dispersed buildings while Hi-Q food marts border each cluster of separate dorms, connected all entirely by desire paths and concrete roads. It's no surprise then that a map is the standard gift given to all entrance students, though by now you’ve memorized practically all zones you inhabit (i.e. the Natural Sciences’ Atrium, the Physics Department, and your own dorm). Most people still use theirs, along with the mandatory transportation fare card Admissions urges all newcomers to get. More than anything it’s a must-have for anyone who wants to actually make it on time to class — more so when they’re not blessed with taking courses on a near-by group of Departments.

And it just so happened you’re amongst those ill-fated few.

For four years now you’ve been a resident of Dorm C, exactly the furthest of the dorms from the NS Atrium. Instead you’re — uselessly — at a walking distance from the Plastic Arts department, a place you’ve ventured to for only a single semester back in your second year. Back then you had decided that taking Pottery was a great way to fill in some of your electives, an idea which mostly Taehyung, an art major himself, cemented in your head. You remember nothing of your treks to the department, nor of the lessons you received, but your memory often recalls it happened whenever you visit him. Your final project, a 2-piece set of misshapen cups of tea, still rests atop one of his many bookshelves to this day. Taehyung calls them “endearing”, something about them “truly reflecting a purpose beyond what their ‘perfect brethren’ are subjected to”. Which, really, is code for “they could be used as mugs, but I like them better as vases for Namjoon’s succulents,” and you’re okay with that.

Namjoon, an English Lit major, is Tae’s roommate and the other occupant of their two-bedroom flat. As luck would have it they stay on the floor above your own, right atop your much smaller and much lonelier dorm room. It’s actually one of the shared excuses you all use for your constant visits.

Half of the time you spend on their flat includes being tucked away on their couch, reading astronomy journals or watching documentaries Joon frequently sits through alongside you, or sleeping under Tae’s covers simply because he enjoys the company and can’t seem to sleep otherwise. The rest of the time the boys, sometimes with you in tow on an off day, migrate to Jimin and Yoongi’s shared flat in Dorm D. They share their space with Jungkook, if Yoongi’s complaints about late-night water-fests were anything to go by, though you’ve never seen him there.

No, ironically, the first time you crossed paths with him was in the lobby of Dorm C — your dorm. You remember he was shifting and wandering around like a lost puppy, his eyes restlessly searching for something or someone. It was him, you knew, because he’s often featured in your shared friend’s Instagram posts, and because he’s very hard to miss.

He was — is big, towering over you easily, and was then dressed all in black. A mix of comfy and effortlessly put together in perfect execution, the rolled-up sleeves of his sweater did nothing to hide the ink covering his veiny forearms. You were instantly thankful — you’ve always been drawn to tattoos. They’re admirable on others and on yourself, and you instantly had to push down the desire to keep marking your body for reasons only pertinent to the feeling of the needle on your skin or the aesthetics of the design. Your poor ass couldn’t afford another so soon, anyway.

The other thing that gave him away was his signature dark hair, long and parted in the middle to fall over his round, soft eyes. It covered his multiple piercings but did nothing to take away from the sweet persona that settled over him. Despite the dark and the goth, he seemed… cute. Very cute, and very confused. The way his eyebrows furrowed at his phone screen just before he searched through the scattered students was a dead giveaway. He was likely lost, but that wasn’t very surprising. For all the time Tae and Joon spend on Dorm D, the same couldn’t be said otherwise. Visits to Dorm C were seldom for the rest.

And a lost Jungkook… wasn’t your problem. A simple look at his boyish features was enough to ignite some sort of weird somersaults in your chest, and you wanted nothing more than to ignore it and run far away. So, you tried.

Blinking away the staring he had thankfully not noticed, you made for your own room as embarrassment coursed through your jittery limbs.

You didn’t make it very far before your plan backfired. You had to go near him to reach the elevator, and it apparently didn’t matter that you were practically hiding inside your bag, your hand rummaging through it for your room cardkey.

“Hey—uh, Y/N right?” you heard, and your body froze.

A look up, and there he was. Jeon Jungkook, calling your name. It was weird hearing your mesh of letters on his tongue, foreign to his palette yet pronounced to perfection. Equally confused as he looked before, and even further more embarrassed (you couldn’t help but think, amongst all the chaos in your mind, that his voice was ridiculously soothing and fitting for his physicality), your throat only let out a very intellectual “huh?”

“Um,” Jungkook’s eyes went wide, his head cocked to the side at your reaction. His feet shifted under him, and you tried ignoring the way his cheeks grew a lovely shade of pink when he spoke again.

“I’m Jungkook, and hyung—Taehyung mentioned you before. He isn’t answering and I’m a bit lost, so I was wondering if you could give me directions? Unless you’re not… Y/N?”

You’re often a recurrent character in Tae’s stories, so it shouldn’t have surprised you he’s spoken of you before. But it did.

“I am Y/N,” you relented, maybe a bit more bitterly than you intended. You couldn’t help but pout at the sudden reminder of Tae’s love for recording you during your most… inopportune moments. “Where is it you want to go?”

The boy in question rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, a bunny-like smile making a sudden appearance. His teeth seemed to jut out a bit, and his upper lip disappeared almost entirely, but you were sure of one thing instantly: his smile was the prettiest one you’d ever seen.

You felt your chest constrict at the sight without any sense of permission, your ears going up in flames. Clearly, you were bonkers. You continued your walk towards the elevator, praying he’d keep up somewhere a bit farther from you.  But he followed without question, easily settling besides you and offering glances from the corner of his eye. You pressed the up button and pretended not to notice, playing around with your cardkey while you both waited.

“To hyung’s dorm — I haven’t ever been there, as strange as it sounds, and I need to borrow some paint.”

“Borrow some paint?” you hummed, the notion seeming somewhat silly to you. “After you’ve used it you can’t return it, so would it really be borrowing?”

You moved to look at him questioningly, curiosity getting the best of you, and the feeling you were hit with was far too paralyzing for you to carry. It was a sudden storm of affection, a wave of currents that spread and tightened, tickling and burning your stomach each second you saw his crinkled eyes, his teeth fully bared into a humorous grin. It made your feet stick to the ground even after the doors of the elevator greeted you open.

“You’re a weird one aren’t you?” he muttered airily, more to himself than anything, before shrugging and prompting you to follow him inside the confined space. “Technically, you’re right, but saying I’m borrowing stuff sounds nicer, doesn’t it? It’s all about semantics. Don’t worry though, hyung lets me take some of his whenever I run out.”

“Okay.”

Neither of you said much after that, but you did take him all the way to Tae’s and Joon’s front door. He thanked you softly before you left, with a smile sincere and gentle in ways you hadn’t expected. You remember nodding along and, possibly, wishing him good luck on his art project, but you weren’t sure by the time you reached your room.

You remember skipping your assignments that night, choosing instead a hot shower and the comforts of your recently cleaned bed. It was the first attempt at forgetting the whole event, a new mission for your mind to complete before a crush settled its anchor.

You were used to six handsome guys. You drew the line at seven.

Meeting Jungkook for the first time was disastrous for the days that followed. Maybe you were being a bit dramatic, but it was rightfully warranted. Your brain had vaguely memorized what he looked like outside of pictures, and now you saw him everywhere. It was the frequency bias all over again, and it had no escape, just like that one time you wanted to dye your hair and suddenly half the population seemed to be dying it that very color. Similarly, interacting with Jungkook meant noticing him in your peripheral when he wasn’t front and center, knowing it was him in the distance. It only worsened when your paths began to regularly cross.

It happened and continuous to happen mostly in the presence of Tae or Joon, or any of Jungkook’s roommates. 

Whenever you’d spend some time on the couch with Joon, he was there. Whenever you woke up midday and decide it was high time to cook brunch for three (four then), he was already there. When Yoongi invited you over to hear some of the pieces he’s been working on, Jungkook was miraculously in the apartment. Oh, you wanted to steal some of Tae’s shirts? Jungkook catches you red handed, some stolen paints of his own right in his treacherous hold.

It’s absolutely maddening.

You wouldn’t mind it so much if it weren’t for the fact that each new stare, each new smile, leaves your stomach in complete shambles.

Who could take you back to the time when you hadn’t heard his loud laugh? To when he hadn’t seen you loafing around in your onesie after a killer test and stayed to comfort you? He even called you cute, shared some of his milk and made sure to leave only after he’d seen you smile. Sometimes he’d even notice you watch your documentaries only to pop a random question about space, or even about the science behind Star Trek or Star Wars when “Clearly FTL travel isn’t possible?” (To which you’d answer: “Not yet it isn’t, you non-believer”) before falling quiet and leaving you be. They were small conversations with no more than 3 lines exchanged, but they were more than enough for the butterflies seeping through your ribcage to go on a frenzy.

And despite everything you heard and everything you began to know, Jungkook was possibly the softest, sweetest, and most annoying person you knew. At least superficially. 

You still knew nothing personal about him, with your interactions being limited to shared spaces, but you didn’t think much of it until you began to see all kinds of things: his cute habits, his quirks, and even the way his tattoo collection grows.

You’ve silently noticed the way he wiggles his toes when he sits to watch a series, how he blinks a lot when he’s confused. You’ve seen the way he scratches the back of his head when he’s not confident about something, and how his eyes smile before his lips do, and the way his laugh resonates all around the room in the most euphoric melodies. All of this you come to know as unequivocally Jungkook. And you know, you know you’re so whipped for him that you can’t stop being in-tuned with it, with his little things.

But you’re also aware of your situation, and it doesn’t surprise you when your chest starts to hurt over it — over him, because you see his other things: the way each week curls a different girl around his waist, the way his eyes turn cold when he says he doesn’t do relationships, and the way he looks at you.

It’s never with disgust or anything of the sort. It’s just that you’ve seen the way he looks at the girls he fucks with, the girls he finds attractive, the girls he likes for a single night to then discard them.

And he’s never looked at you like that. You suppose that’s good, but... then again, you guess it means you’re nothing. After all, Jeon Jungkook never offers you any hope, he never shows any interest. Technically you’re not even his friend — not really. You’re Taehyung’s other best friend, an outside addition to his usual friend group, and now to his life. You’re okay with that, you have to be. You haven’t sought him out, haven’t done anything to close the gap between you. Water and care is something you never wanted to give your unjustified feelings. You never wanted them to grow, even now.

You just failed to take note of the rain pouring over the earth and pooling beneath your feet, and you don’t notice you’re drowning until you see him at the end of the day.

The girl attached to him is a stranger to you, just like the rest you’ve seen, yet you can’t seem to shake the thought that something must be different. Whatever she has seems to be enough for the tattooed man to shatter his distaste for PDA, at least for the time being.

Your legs hesitate to unceremoniously halt in the middle of the hall. Your eyes battle not to widen and not to stare, for a second desperate to make sure that what you’re seeing is real, that you’re seeing Jungkook kiss for the first time in forever as if you hadn’t known all this time that he fucks and loves behind closed doors. 

And it doesn’t matter that the kiss isn’t gentle, that he’s kissing her as if she were the very air he needed to breathe. No, what makes you sick is how he notices, how he sees you, and how he does nothing but pull her closer in response.

You push yourself to move as soon as his eyes drift away again, unwilling to tremble before him and unwilling to make any more mistakes.

Class would have to wait. You needed coffee, even if it meant being late. And you absolutely hate being late to Astrophysics, but you definitely hated seeing him more.

[complexgods-backup]

Isn't It Cliché? Chapter 2

Read chapter one here or on Ao3

Pairing: DaiSuga (Haikyuu!!)

Word Count: 2627

Warnings: very brief mention of alcohol and drug consumption, but nothing explicit

A/N: sorry for the late update, I know I said I would update regularly but life got in the way ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I hope you enjoy this chapter!

The university building was huge, way bigger than his old one. Students were chattering away around him, some of them already deep into writing papers, exchanging notes, and sipping coffee. He missed this exact feeling of uni during break. He hadn’t had too many assignments due to his transfer, and the ones he did have were easy tasks, so he had the entire summer to do whatever he wanted, which was odd to him since he was so used to either working or revising during break.

He took out his timetable he thankfully remembered to print a few weeks prior, making his way to the classroom in which his first-class would take place.

“Oh, hi!” He heard a somewhat familiar voice call from behind him. He turned around to see who was talking. He was faced with a man he met on orientation day, whose name he had promptly forgotten. His hair was black and gelled up to the extreme, making him look like a rooster with some bedhead.

“Sugawara, right?” He asked, flashing him a toothy grin. “We met at orientation, I’m Kuroo Tetsurou.” Suga nodded, remembering how he charmed every single person at orientation. He had originally gone to welcome the newcomers since he was a second year, but once Suga said he was transferring and found out that he also studied Japanese Studies, Kuroo happily obliged to answer any questions about the university he might have.

“Ah yeah, apologies for forgetting your name, I won’t forget it again,” Suga said as he shook Kuroo’s hand in greeting.

“That’s absolutely fine, man. I understand it’s not easy to remember everything and everyone when moving into a new city. It’s cool that you’re studying Japanese Studies as well though! If you’re up for it, me and a couple other people are grabbing lunch later and you’re more than welcome to join!” Suga gladly accepted the invitation, feeling oddly reassured that someone as confident as Kuroo basically just took him in like that. He must’ve looked really lost.

The morning passed quite quickly, Suga only got lost once between classes, but everyone at the university was just so helpful and kind that it wasn’t that big of an issue. At lunchtime, he met Kuroo and his three friends at the bottom of the main stairs, smiling nervously at the strangers as Kuroo introduced them. The one whose hair probably had more gel in it than Kuroo was named Bokuto Koutarou, who was more than excited to meet Suga. The other two were calmer at greeting him, the shorter one with dark hair introduced himself as Akaashi Keiji, and the tall blonde quietly introduced himself as Tsukishima Kei. The conversation came almost naturally to them all as they made their way to the cafeteria, and Suga was thankful for how they did their best to include him in their conversations. Suga quickly noticed that Bokuto and Akaashi were closest and were most probably friends since at least middle school with how they spoke to and acted around each other, but everyone seemed to tease Bokuto relentlessly, reminding Suga of his own best friend. He should definitely send Asahi a text after lunch to see how he was holding up.

Suga quickly felt integrated into the friend group, cracking jokes with the rest of them as they ate the somewhat disgusting cafeteria food.

“This university is so fancy and expensive, can’t they at least make decent food?” Kuroo quipped, making the others nod in agreement.

“You’ve been saying that since last year. Besides, it’s better than whatever you can cook, Kuroo.” Tsukishima replied in a drawl, sounding almost bored.

“That’s not very nice of you, Tsukki-poo. I mean you’re not wrong but you shouldn’t say it.” Kuroo answered nonchalantly, ignoring the face of discomfort he made at the nickname.

“So Suga, why did you decide to move to Tokyo?” Akaashi asked, and suddenly everyone fell quiet, watching their new friend with intent.

“I didn’t like my old university, and I always wanted to move to Tokyo, so I figured why not,” Suga answered, trying to seem unfazed.

“Why didn’t you move for your first year then?” Bokuto asked, his eyes big and focussed intensely on Suga.

“Ah, well… My ex wanted me to stay close to our hometown, so I enrolled in our local university. We had a pretty bad breakup though so I was excited to move away.” He consciously left any pronouns out of the conversation, not ready to come out to his newfound friends, just in case. He grimaced at recalling the way he found out his ex-boyfriend was cheating on him and had been for two months before their breakup. After he had found out, he couldn’t get out of his hometown quicker.

“Ah. Makes sense. Oh well, there are lots of people here that we can hook you up with if you want.” Kuroo said in what Suga assumed to be a joke, but he thanked him for the offer anyway.

“Ah it’s fine, I’m not big on dating yet, my ex kinda messed me up, and I don’t know how I feel about one-night stands just yet.” The others nodded, understanding that he was done talking about it.

“Well, we’re all going to Kuroo’s house party he and his roommates are throwing at the end of the week, sort of like a beginning of the semester party. You’re very welcome to join us if you like!” Bokuto chimed in, to which Suga gladly agreed. He needed to check his schedule but getting drunk and/or high at university parties was something he desperately missed during the summer holidays.

After lunch, everyone went their separate ways, and Kuroo promised to text Suga the details of the party the day of. Before his last class of the day started, he sent Asahi a quick text, asking how he was holding up. He got a thumbs-up emoji back, meaning that he was surviving the day. Sugawara smiled as he put his phone back into his pocket and went into the classroom.

…

The day was over a lot quicker than Suga had anticipated, and he sent Asahi a text as he made his way back home.

Home in 20, give me a call if you feel like it!

He threw his coat and bag on the couch as he went into the kitchen to make a coffee. There was nothing Suga loved more than a cup of coffee after a long day. His ex often commented on how bad his caffeine addiction had gotten during his time at uni but he wasn’t in the picture anymore so why should he care? As he was waiting for Asahi to call, he sat by the window in his living room/bedroom, watching civilians pass by as he quietly sipped his coffee. The street he lived in was pretty busy, cars were always driving by and there were always people to observe. Suga loved watching the people crossing the street or running to the subway, were it businessmen, or parents with their children, trying to urge them from one side of the street to the other. Just as he was watching a mother on the phone, trying to get her kid’s attention who was attempting to run across the street when the light was red, his train of thought was interrupted by his phone buzzing.

“Hey Asahi,” he said after he swiped the screen of his phone to accept Asahi’s FaceTime call.

“So? How was your first day?” He asked excitedly, sipping his coffee and leaning against the window.

“It was so cool! The people were really nice and I’m going out for drinks with a few people later tonight!” Asahi sounded a lot more confident than the day before, which made Suga’s heart swell with pride. His best friend was never the best when it came to meeting new people, always worried that people would see him as a threat or too intimidating. His height and broad build were definitely assets to that, but his heart was so pure it was almost impossible not to love the man.

“Did you meet any cool fashionable people then?” Suga asked, which prompted Asahi to tell him all about his day and everyone he had met. Suga listened intently to his best friend’s words, not wanting to miss a single minute of what happened during his first day.

“Ah, I’m rambling again. How was your day?” Asahi asked after speaking for a while, and Suga couldn’t help but smile. Asahi always felt ashamed and somehow shy when he “talked too much,” even though Suga loved nothing more than to listen to whatever Asahi was passionate about. Asahi also knew this to some extent, but he still seemed to feel bad whenever he spoke for more than one minute at a time, thinking it was selfish of him, at least that’s what Asahi had told Suga when he asked his best friend about it.

“Ah no, it’s fine! I like hearing you talk. Besides, it was your first day of uni! That’s exciting! My day was good, I met a few new people and we’re also going to this party on Friday, so I’m looking forward to that!” Suga continued to tell Asahi about his day, in turn, making sure to not leave out any details. He really enjoyed these FaceTime calls with Asahi, something they decided to do more when Asahi was traveling with Nishinoya before he came back home to study and they couldn’t see each other as often as they were used to.

“So yeah, that’s about it from my end. I have work again after class tomorrow afternoon so I’ll probably not be on my phone too much, just so you know!”

“Ok, noted” Asahi answered, before continuing talking about random things.

“Oh by the way, Yuu said he’ll come back home in a few weeks!” Asahi said, his eyes practically shining in excitement. Suga grinned at that, knowing that maybe it might be a little less than that. Noya had wanted to surprise Asahi by coming back from his travels this week, two weeks earlier than planned and only Suga knew about it.

Noya had been traveling Europe for five months now, and although Asahi had joined him in the first month, he had to go home and work in order to afford uni and his apartment, which bummed Asahi out greatly. He and Noya had the most wholesome relationship in Suga’s opinion. Neither could live without the other, so long-distance kinda sucked for the both of them.

Asahi and Nishinoya were the classic “best friends that had feelings for each other since forever but never acted on it” until one day Suga had enough of the bullshit and made them confess to one another. At least that’s how Asahi and Noya put it, Suga thought of it as more of a “not-so-subtly locking them in a room until they confessed” sort of situation. Not his most graceful moment, he must admit, but they had been together for a year now and were completely and utterly in love with each other, it was cute but sickening to watch as a single person. Pushing the thought away, Suga grinned at the camera, nodding enthusiastically.

“I’m excited for you! I might try to come to visit for a weekend once Noya’s back, we can have a movie marathon weekend like we used to in high school,” Suga suggested and Asahi was practically glowing with excitement. The rest of the conversation was about Noya and his adventures in Europe until Asahi had to get ready for his night out with the new people he met at uni.

Suga decided to spend the night in a YouTube deep dive until he passed out, which was always a bad idea but at least he remembered to set an alarm this time.

Just as he had anticipated, he woke up extremely confused to his alarm, not remembering when he fell asleep. His laptop had since turned off due to lack of charging, but he had no time to care about that now, because he wanted to get to uni on time and he needed to remember to take his work clothes with him, so he tried to get out of bed at least half an hour before he had to leave. He was in a bad mood, probably due to his YouTube deep dive last night, and he couldn’t wait to go back to bed the second he had to leave the warm and safe confines of his sheets. He got dressed in a hurry, realising he only had ten minutes before he had to leave.

The morning was rather uneventful, and Suga did his best to seem as chipper as he had been the day before, despite his foul mood. Kuroo had invited him to lunch again, but he declined with a smile and an apology. He knew he would have to go to work at 1 pm and there would be no time for him to eat in the cafeteria. Suga appreciated Kuroo’s kindness and understanding as he turned away to listen to the professor, leaving Suga to his notes. He decided to eat his lunch in the break room at work before his shift started in order to ensure he would be on time.

That day he worked the orders, and since it was a weekday before 4 pm, he was left with one other coworker who was taking orders. He hadn’t met this colleague before but he seemed very intense and focused on his work. He had introduced himself earlier that afternoon as Kageyama Tobio and promptly walked off to start his shift. Suga wasn’t phased though, knowing that he probably had trouble opening up to people, so he decided to not overwhelm him with conversation. They worked surprisingly well together and Suga enjoyed working quietly, listening to the playlist that was playing that day. Sometimes he’d listen in to other people’s fleeting conversations as they waited for their orders, the snippets he caught always entertained him as he wondered what the rest of the conversation was about. He knew that that was probably not appropriate but he was too curious about other people’s lives not to eavesdrop. Right before 4 pm, another coworker joined him and Kageyama, introducing himself as Ennoshita Chikara. He seemed like an effective and good worker, and Suga wished he had more time to get acquainted with him but unfortunately, rush hour had started so they were too busy making orders. He had an inkling that he and Ennoshita would get along pretty well though, so he made sure he would talk to the man more when they had another shift together.

Even though Suga had a 6-hour shift, the afternoon went by in a blur and he didn’t notice how much his back ached from being on his feet non-stop during that time until he arrived at his apartment. He decided to put off homework until he had his bath and some dinner, truly exhausted from his day. He checked his phone as the water poured into the tub, texting Asahi that he was alright and that he would call after his classes the next day, too tired to keep a conversation tonight. He doubted whether or not he would be able to do his homework that night, but he figured he could just do it the next day instead, so he sunk into the hot water wondering what kind of tv show he wanted to watch before bed. He deserved some self-care as well from time to time even if that self-care took the form of eating instant ramen and watching Netflix.

[dianapana]

SasuHina Month 2020- Day 9

Prompt-Prolonged Embraces

The exam had been awful; the questions were formulated in such a way that they were confusing to begin with but the subjects they asked about were also very difficult and hard to cover in 50 words. They had over 30 questions and barely an hour and half to finish, much like her, everyone else walked out of the room with their head bowed looking at the ground and doing everything in their power not to catch someone’s eye in case that person thought to strike up a conversation about said exam. They were also all moving in slow motion and zombie-like. The teacher had been cruel, Hinata had attended all classes, did all the extra work and studied as much as she could. Last night as she was looking over everything one last time, she felt hopeful and sure of her knowledge. When Ino quizzed her, she made no errors. But she barely had time to think so she wrote the first thing to come to mind; she didn’t even have time to look over everything before handing in the exam. Thankfully this had been her last exam this semester, this year and this University experience. Ino finished her exams two days ago and she wanted to go out and celebrate, but Hinata wanted to go home and take a 10-hour nap, wake up eat and then go back to sleep.

“I got out. Not 1 word abt it.” Hinata texted Ino and the blonde replied almost immediately witch a bunch of sad emojis.

Her first stop before going to the apartment and cry a little to let out her frustration and make herself better, was a fast food restaurant, she needed food and fast; thus the location. There was only one person in front of her so she was able to order her sub pretty fast. She sat herself at one of the empty tabled to eat half of it in a hurry. The other half she packed and put in her bag; she’d keep that one for later to eat after waking up.

Ino was in the living room on the sofa applying some more lipstick when Hinata walked in. Ino looked at her with sympathy and gave her a big hug.

“I’m sorry it sucked.” The blonde said but didn’t address more the topic because she knew Hinata didn’t really want to talk about it “What are you gonna do? Do you want to come with me and Sakura to a party?”

Hinata only shook her head. “I’ll go party with you this weekend, now I just want to sleep and forget everything I learned” Ino laughed

“Ok babe, but if you change your mind just shoot me a text and I’ll let you know where I am” The blonde said as she checked her reflection one more time before picking up her fanny pack and putting it around her waist. “Whoever decided to bring these back into fashion was a genius. I have my phone, money and keys in there and I won’t have to worry about losing my clutch or whatever the whole time” Ino’s gratefulness to the fanny-pack-Gods has been something she expressed whenever she went out in the past year.

Hinata went to the fridge and put the remaining half of the sub before kissing Ino’s cheek and dragging herself up the stairs. Before sleeping she decided to take a bath and relax. The tub filled slowly with hot water and she even decided to use one of her citrus bath bombs and some lemon oils. Before stepping into the water, she went to fetch her phone and played some music in the background. The moment she was fully undressed and in the water her muscles started to relax. Her brain started to wander; how she wished Sasuke was there, he would be able to distract so easily. Her body was indeed starting to loosen up but her brain was still overthinking everything about the exam from her actual answers, to how she wrote, wondering if the teacher could even read her scribbles at all especially since she rushed so much. She wrote her name right…?

Shushing her thoughts, she started to wash her body and hair slowly but even as she was rinsing her hair for the second time her brain was still spinning in circles. The bath didn’t seem to help so she got out of it much faster than she wanted. Dressing in her most comfortable pj which were a pair of loose shorts and one of Sasuke’s t-shirts she went to bed after drying her hair for a while; it was still damp but she was too tired to care. She almost wanted to force herself to cry a little because she always felt better after crying but no tears came so she did the next best thing, closed her eyes and thought of Sasuke; of his soft hair under her fingertips, his beautiful eyes when he looked at her, his soft lips as they traced her neck. She fell asleep with Sasuke on her mind and her mind gripped onto that thought and continued it into her dream.

In her dream they were having a panic, they just finished eating and were laying down on the blanket looking at the sky, pointing at clouds and saying what they looked like. She was just pointing to a cat folding origami when Sasuke pulled her closer and started kissing her neck. He breathed her in and hugged her close.

“I missed you so much” Her brain was still half-asleep but she was certain that the voice was real, as were the arms that were holding her close. Hinata opened her eyes wide only to see Sasuke looking down at her; he was still in his uniform. The moment their eyes met she started crying and pulling him as close as she could; her arms were around his neck her legs around his waist; if she could she would live in his embrace.

“I missed you too” she said still crying. She hadn’t seen him in about 4 days, he had been really busy and couldn’t skype; but she hadn’t touched him in over 7 months. Sasuke was a solder in the army and had been deployed for almost 2 years now. He returned for a few weeks when he had been injured 7 months ago but that hadn’t been nearly enough time together.

“How long are you back for?” His deployment only ended in another 3 months as far as Hinata knew. “Oh my God are you hurt again?” She asked and pulled away from him softly and looked at him as he was lying on her bed, he seemed fine.

“I’m not hurt” He told her with a smile and ran his hand over her upper arm. “Things worked faster than then we thought and most of us were sent home. Only a couple people higher in rank had to stay till the end.”

Hinata looked at him for a second. “So…you’re home…for good?” Her voice was trembling.

“Yes. At least until the next deployment which shouldn’t be very soon” His smile was blinding. Her tears were pouring again. Sasuke was on his back on the bed and she crawled on top of him; almost instantly his arms curled around her. They stood there embracing for a really long time. Sasuke was really tired after his journey and Hinata just wanted to hold him close and make sure he was real.

“I’m going to take a shower and change ok?” He asked, his voice was lower and he sounded sleepy. Hinata got up from him and allowed him to go to the bathroom. While he was showering, she went downstairs to the kitchen, she was sure Sasuke was hungry and the only food they had was her half sub which was nearly not enough for both of them. So, she put some water and rice to cook and, in another pan, fried some chicken breasts. The chicken was done quite fast and the rice was still being cooked so she decided to make a sauce; she cut some tomatoes, onions, peppers and carrots and put them into a pan with some salt, garlic, tomatoes sauce and soy sauce. As she was stirring softly two strong arms came from behind and hugged her.

Neither of them said anything; it was common for Hinata to cook while Sasuke was embracing her softly, his head on her shoulder. The rice was cooked so she stopped that burner but the sauce needed a bit more time which was fine since the rice needed to cool off and steam for another 5-10 minutes to be fluffy. The veggie sauce was done too and she turned off the last burner and took a step back into Sasuke. He took one as well and loosened his embrace just enough so she had space to turn around and hug him back.

“Welcome back; I just realized I didn’t even say that” Hinata said as she ran her hands thought his hair, it was longer than last time he was home but just as soft.

“I’m home” He whispered into her neck and kissed the skin just above her collar bone. They didn’t mover for a couple minutes before Sasuke’s stomach started making sounds.

“I think you’re hungry” Hinata said amused. It was amazing how Sasuke made everything better in her world, the exam and her bad mood felt like they had happened ages ago. All she could remember, all that mattered were Sasuke’s hugs. Hinata filled two cups with water while Sasuke fixed 2 plates for them to eat.

“You finished your exams, today right?” Sasuke asked between chewing.

Hinata nodded “Yes, it’s finally over”

“We should celebrate this weekend, you finished University” Sasuke was 3 years older than her; but she was also almost 2 years older than most of her peers; instead of going to Uni right after high school Hinata had to stay back due to some family issues. Sasuke did more courses than normal people for 3 semesters so instead of 4 years he finished University in 2 after which he went directly into the army. Hinata’s dad was also in the army and that’s how they met; during the first event Sasuke attended. They started dating about 2 months after; Hinata was a senior in high school and Sasuke had just joined. (They were 19 and 22 at the time; now they are 25 and 28)

“Of course, we’re celebrating, you’re home” The house was Hinata’s and Sasuke’s but during the 4 years of University Ino rented their guestroom but the blonde packed most of her things and sent them back to her home with a moving truck. She was to leave Wednesday next week.

They ate and talked some more about Hinata’s future plans to teach middle-school English, about Sasuke’s deployment which went really well, besides a few injures, nothing major happened. After they finished eating Sasuke went to wash the dished. Just like he did when she was cooking Hinata hugged him from behind while he was working.

He was finally home; whenever he was gone Hinata always was a bit on the edge but with him close everything was as it should be. “I love you” she said and kissed his shoulder.

“I love you too” Sasuke said and turned around and in a few quick moves picked her up and put her on the counter. He walked between her legs and held her close and kissed her slow and steady. He had missed her so much, not only in a sexual way but in a physical and emotional way. He missed holding her while they slept, missed smelling her perfume everywhere around him, missed her voice and they way she held his hand whenever they were walking together even if it was in the supermarket. Her positivism and innocence also were things he craved. He missed everything that made her her.

He deepened the kiss and Hinata crossed her legs over his waist. He placed his hands under her butt and picked her up still not breaking the kiss. Sasuke knew the house well enough to navigate it while kissing her but Hinata broke the kiss when they reached the stairs and smiled at him.

“Let’s go to our room” She said still smiling beautifully at him. Every part of her body was touching his in their embrace and nothing had ever felt that perfect before.

“Yes, let’s go” He would sleep with her in his arms today; of course, after ravishing some of her innocence.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

A Family of Five- Part 3: Sick Day

Calum and Harlowe’s marriage hasn’t always been easy, but it has always been filled with love. This is a collaborative experience with In Sorrow and In Joy. Dad!Calum. Black OC.

CW: Over the course of this series, there are mentions of pregnancy, therapy, and postpartum depression. There is also 18+ Content (Smut)

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No one has my permission to repost my work of fiction. This includes translations as well

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The house is finally silent. Koha’s no longer shouting about needing his lunchbox, Harlowe’s not clicking against the tile floor with her heels, Pepper, Sissy and Jack their three dogs have been taken out, sprawled out across their favorite spots in the living room Jack and Sissy are the latest additions. Jack a german shepherd mix and Sissy is a Cocker Spaniel Corgi mix. They were a two for one deal, only in the sense that the pound warned them that the two had become extremely attached to each other. So much so that they could not go to separate foster homes. 

Calum can only blame himself for the dog additions. Koha had Pepper and they grew up together. So of course, Calum wanted Esha to grow up with a dog. So they went looking at the same local shelter from where they got Pepper from. That’s how they ran across Jack and Sissy. Esha was stoked to have a dog she could cuddle with. This of course meant that him and Harlowe were outnumbered, though the dogs did help when one of the kids is hurt in another room. They could run and get the attention of Calum or Harlowe to come to the rescue. Of course, the crying also indicated that. But the dogs loved the kids and they best was naptime when they Pepper lays down first, Koha and Esha curled up near each other and Jack and Sissy outlining them. Calum has too many photos of the same scene from multiple different times they curled up together. 

Esha whines a little from the couch; Calum walks over, running his palm over her forehead. Normally, she would be off to daycare. However, she had a fever last night and it hadn’t broken yet either. Calum usually drops Esha off, every morning at the same time, with the same kisses, pressed into both cheeks and a big hug. Harlowe’s job and Koha’s private school are in the same direction. Esha’s daycare is a bit of an offshoot, which Harlowe could easily do.  However, Esha prefers Calum to drive her. Calum loves it too, her dancing in her carseat, her singing along to the radio. His little baby girl always excited to show him something new that she learned. It’s time for just them. 

Though the house wasn’t too chaotic, Calum did feel like he was constantly running around. He was constantly moving, more things added to this To-Do List and never enough time just to enjoy the moment. The moments he has with Esha though on the fifteen minute drive are what keeps him going some days. He loves Harlowe, Koha, and the dogs. But there’s nothing quite like seeing Esha smile, even as he’s dropping her off in front of her preschool There’s the way her tiny hand takes his, and the way she grins, waving at all her friends still close to his side that makes all that chaos still; Calum feels at peace.

Right now though, his little slice of heaven is sick. Esha stirs from her half sleeping state at the feel of a hand on her face, groaning a little. “How you feeling, baby?” Cal asks softly. 

She shrugs. “Still hurt a little.”

He nods. “Okay, give it some more time before the meds kick in.” Her cup is empty thankfully. She drank all of her water. 

“Okay.”

He tucks the blanket higher up around her, stroking softly over her cheek and bonnet. “I’m sorry you’re sick, baby girl,” he whispers, watching her eyes flutter close. Jack walks over, jumps up onto the couch and settles down at her feet. Pepper keeps watch from the floor with Sissy. Calum scratches over their heads, happy to see them being gentle with her in her present state.

Calum washes the dishes from breakfast, squeezes in a quick work out and after his shower, wakes Esha again. She pushes up away from the pillow, a small ‘hmmph’ falling over her lips. She looks just like Harlowe waking up. The same squint and the matching satin bonnets. “I know, baby, I know. But I have to keep fluids in you.”

Esha takes the cup from her father’s hand, still blinking back sleep from her eyes. There’s no sass, no remark. God, he hates seeing his baby girl like this. Thankfully, she doesn’t get sick often. When she does, it’s like someone has pulled her plug. There’s no power, no life to her almost. She falls back into the cushion, sipping away at her cup. Calum stands, picking her up, before settling into the sofa with Esha in his lap. She snuggles into his chest, though he put her in light pj’s, he can feel the warmth seeping from her body. 

He’s already adjusted the AC some to help her stay cool. “Can we watch Moana?” she mumbles against him. 

“Of course sweetheart. We’ll start if after lunch, okay?”

Esha nods. “Love you, Daddy.”

“Love up too, baby girl.” When she’s fast asleep, yet again, Calum brings the blanket back around her body. He can wait to fix her soup just a tad bit, not wanting to disturb her sleep too much. Softly, he hums a few songs to her sleeping body. 

Calum doesn’t even realize he’s fallen asleep until the feelings of nails against his scalp stir him awake. Harlowe’s smiling down at him. “I came by just to see how see she’s holding up. And I’m come back to both of y’all passed out on the couch,” she chuckles.

Calum sighs. “Hadn’t intended to fall asleep.”

She kisses his forehead. “I’ll fix some soup and then be on my way.”

The sounds of Harlowe’s work around the kitchen sends a shiver down Calum’s spine. He rests his head into the cushions, listening to the soft sounds of metal pots and pans clinking against each other. Esha’s not so warm against him; he’s not sure if it’s just because he’s gotten used to her. Gingerly he places the back of his hand to her forehead. She’s not as warm. Readjusting her, he stands, holding his sick child to his chest. 

They’ll be leaving soon. It’s, of course, going to be tricky with the dogs and the house still here in California. Calum’s tempted to just keep the house since it’s paid for as a vacation home. They can retire here during the school breaks. Maybe they can rent it out through an agency so it’s not just sitting unoccupied all the time. Harlowe’s got a couple uni’s that are interested in her already, which is a good sign because she was worried about finding work. 

Calum watches Harlowe. She’s still in the heels from this morning. It’s a shock she makes this long anymore in the shoes. The heels are a good sign though. Today’s a good day so far. Bad days don’t see heels. Bad days don’t see skirts, or fancy blouses. Calum thinks part of her recovery and stability is linked to going back to work. She can’t help her students if she’s not thinking straight. She can’t enjoy the worlds they’re creating and she can’t help them shape those worlds if all she has is a fog on her shoulder. 

It was hard, before on the maternity leave for Harlowe. It was the same old same old. Day in and day out it was just her bedroom, just the kitchen, and occasionally the outdoors. She didn’t really have a goal, just a muddled sameness marked up rising and fallings of the sun. There was Koha and Esha and Calum for sure. But part of her had taken them for granted, that of course they would be there. She was a mother, she was a wife. These people were in her life for good. 

The thing is, life is fragile and it took realizing that her students wouldn’t be able to see her on campus to know that she couldn’t take anyone or anything for granted. Just because Calum was here now didn’t mean he would have to stick this out. Te Koha had already taken too much of her illness into his soul, she couldn’t crush her own child with her heaviness, with her burden. 

“Don’t you have a class to be teaching?” Cal asks. He remembers now that her schedule shouldn’t allow her to be here. He blames the post nap fog. 

“That was last semester, babe. I redid it so I start teaching at 9, go until 12. Break for lunch for an hour and some change. Then my last class ends goes from 2 to 3:30.”

“That’s right,” he hums, still trying to shake the sleep from him. Harlowe glances over her shoulder a smirk on her face. He knows what she’s thinking. “Don’t say it.”

She holds her hands up in defense. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“But you were thinking it. You’re always thinking it.”

“You just love her, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Her face says it all though how tightly Esha has Calum wrapped around her tiny finger. It doesn’t matter though. As long as his baby girl knows how much he loves her, it doesn’t matter what Harlowe or anyone else things, or says, or doesn’t say. He’d go through Hell for her, and come back, only to go through it again if he had too. Nothing would stop him from taking care of his daughter. 

Pepper walks over, whining, pointing to the door. “I’ll take her,” Harlowe says, sliding out from in front of the stove. 

As he stirs the soup, Esha starts to wake, groaning. He sets her onto the counter. Calum’s still impressed that he can hold her with one arm. Esha’s getting bigger with every passing second. It scares him a little when he won’t be able to hold her like this anymore. When she’ll be too big and want nothing more than to run through the streets, just as wild as she’s bound to be. She holds onto the blanket, asking, “Chicken noodle soup?”

“Of course. It’s your favorite.”

“Can I have some water?”

Calum hums with a nod, opening the fridge. The back door opens and Esha smiles at up at her mom. “Hi, Momma.”

“Hey, baby. How you feeling?”

“Why you not at school?”

“Came by to see how you’re doing.” Harlowe presses a quick kiss to her forehead. Calum watches them. This is the Harlowe he knew was buried under her fog. This is the Harlowe Koha knew. The new meds seem to be helping. The idea of moving is still scary, but necessary. This place has run its course. Besides, Calum’s worried. New meds always work and then she stops taking them. He can’t do this alone, taking care of two kids, three dogs and his wife. He needs an extra pair of hands to help him out, especially when Harlowe slips. She doesn’t listen to just anybody. Her family’s no help. But Momma Joy has always managed to slip through her guard and keeps her on the right take. 

“Daddy can take care of me,” Esha retorts. 

“You’re definitely feeling better,” Harlowe laughs. “I know Papa Bear can. Momma’s just a worrier, you know.”

“Love you,” she whispers as her mom wraps her up in a hug. 

“Love you too. I’ve got a meeting, so I should probably get back soon.” Harlowe turns to Calum, sliding her hands around his waist. “Want me to pick something up for dinner?”

“I’ll cook. Don’t worry.”

With a nod, she slides away, but not before lightly patting his butt through the sweatpants. “Gross, Momma!” Esha huffs, noting the contact. 

“Do you call Papa Bear out like this?” Harlowe teases, waving as she exits the house. 

“Yes, I do!” the little girl calls to her mother’s back, laughing. These are his two girls, constantly teasing each other. 

Soup finally warmed, Esha sits at the table, taking small spoonfuls to her mouth. Her little legs dangle high above the floor. She crosses her eyes, sucking on a noddle in response to Calum’s face. He laughs, eyes closing, the skin around them crinkling too. Esha beams at the sound; she puffs out her chest a little. The laughter is because of her doing. 

“Do you want to take your hair down?” he asks, after calming from his laugh spell. 

“No.” 

Calum waits until she finishes all the bits of her soup, before they start racing to see who can drink the broth down the fastest. Esha winds up getting more on her pj’s than actually in her stomach. “Look at this mess,” Calum tsks, helping her down at of the chair. “Messy little one, aren’t you?”

“You were beating me. I had to win!”

He nods, waving her towards the stairs, a smile tugging on his lips. “Clearly winning involves dumping half the broth down your shirt.”

“Uh huh, it does.” He cleans her off, sliding her into clean pj’s. She climbs onto the sofa, while Calum cleans the dishes. She’s clutches the DVD cover for Moana, waiting. Calum’s not sure how she hasn’t grown sick of the movie yet. But she watches it with the same eager and awe as the first time she’s laid eyes on it. Calum pulls the plug on the drain, washing his hands off again. 

Esha climbs into his lap right at the start of the movie, she holds a juice pack in her hands, eyes glued to the screen. “You gotta do the singing parts, Daddy,” she states. 

“I know,” he nods, chuckling, “I know.” The singing parts also include the choreography too. During ‘You’re Welcome’, Esha joins her father, dancing around the living room. Both of them know it so well, they barely pay attention to the screen.

When Harlowe returns that afternoon with Koha, she can hear singing before she fully crosses the threshold. Her first guess is Moana, but the further they get into the house, it’s not. It’s Princess and the Frog. Calum’s dancing around during The Shadow Man’s man song. Koha drops his backpack in the foyer, running to join in. Normally, they would try to keep the kids separate if they’re sick. Clearly it is not going to work this time. 

Everyone settles in to finish the rest of the movie before Calum stands to start dinner. Esha watches from the bar counter, also scribbling over copy paper. Koha chats about his day, going over his homework with Harlowe. The house slowly fills with a white noise of sizzling, laughter and paws clicking.