#this one still makes me feel so uneasy bc everything is so fast now and im used to play things chugging frames

[psalidodont]

having a new pc and not chugging trying to play minecraft on a singleplayer world with +60 mods feels like touching heaven pearly gates

[20-th-centurygirl]

waves

jude bellingham x fem!reader

summary: a late night beach walk reunites you with your ex in the best way possible

a/n: i'm abit unsure on this bc it's been a while since i attempted to write a full fic but enjoy. i also might make a part two if that's something anyone wants to see <3

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

you'd taken a break from the flowing drinks and crowded club to walk to the beach. in hindsight a girls trip to madrid was an idea that should've stayed in your group chat.

the sun had almost set, the gentle sound of the waves crashing against rocks soothing all of your worries. uni had drained you massively and you needed a break.

you knew you couldn't stay much longer, the darkness that was beginning to blanket the sky making you feel a little uneasy. as you were walking back you saw a tall figure at another part of the beach. you couldn't help but feel drawn to him, something about his presence sucking you in. any other time you'd feel unsafe, but this stranger brought you an immense feeling of comfort and safety. you had nothing to be afraid of.

something in you told you to walk over to him. a decision that seemed impulsive and risky but the adrenaline that ran through you told you differently. his head cocked to your direction at the sound of your heels coming his way. you got closer and closer until a streetlight illuminated his face. it was jude.

you had no doubt that his bewildered expression matched yours. "y/n" his voice was confident but his eyes said otherwise. you could still read him like a book no matter how hard he tried to put up a front. "jude" you matched his tone.

a few seconds felt like decades, both of you unsure of what to say. jude broke the tension first "i'm sorry. i never meant to hurt you. you know that don't you?" his confidence had slipped and you sensed the vulnerability in his voice "but you did jude. you did hurt me" you whispered back. memories flooded back to you far too fast and the need to you had to leave was overwhelming. you'd forgotten all about jude bellingham and you weren't ready to remember him.

"i didn't think i had a choice. it was end it and give you the chance to follow your own dreams or force you to watch me follow mine. neither of those options were fair but i had to choose the one i thought was right. i know it was fucked and i'm still so sorry for hurting you but i had no choice"

"if you had to do it again what would you do?

"i'd do the same thing. i know it's horrible but i couldn't live with myself knowing i'd forced you to live in a foreign country with you resenting me for taking away the life you've spoken about since we were 13" his cheeks has a few stray tears falling down his face and the sight broke you in a completely different way.

"i forgive you jude. i know why you did it. i hated you at the time but i got into my first choice uni. and i wouldn't be able to do that without you. thank you"

"can i hug you?" he whispered, the fear in his voice unlike anything you'd never heard. you only nodded, allowing him to hold you for the first time in years.

his arms wrapped tightly around you waist, his chin resting against your head as he screwed his eyes shut. you could feel judes tears on your hair, your own soaking his shirt as you gripped him tightly. "i never wanted to lose you, i still love you so fucking much" he mumbled into your hair, kissing you lightly.

you eventually pulled back, still holding his waist loosely. "i love you too jude." his gentle smile giving you goosebumps. "where are you staying now?" he asked, taking your face into his hands and stroking your cheeks with his thumb. "in a hotel. it's only two minutes away. can you walk me back?" he shook his head "no, 'm not letting you stay in some hotel by yourself. come back with me" "jude i can't just-" he pressed a finger to your lips "i'm not bringing you back to try fuck you or anything. you can have my bed and i'll go on the sofa and we can talk everything through in the morning."

"are you sure? i don't wanna intrude"

"yes i'm sure. moms gonna be happy to see you aswell."

you grinned at jude as he took your hand in his. you both walked hand in hand back to his new flat, catching up and reflecting on past memories as you both prepared to make many more.

[bewires]

fandom and the criticism paradox: an essay

So there was recently some twitter drama about a thread where people were supposed to post "cancelable" opinions about fanfic. unsurprisingly, someone saw something in that thread that applied to their own fic and then deleted all their fics off AO3.

there was some backlash to this incident in two specific ways that I saw:

(a) criticizing the author for being so sensitive/looking at this thread in the first place

(b) rejecting criticism of fanfiction bc fanfiction is not forprofit

to be clear, I have no particular stake in the fic trope in question being criticized or the author who deleted, they are specific to a fandom I am not in. what this makes me think about more than anything is the uneasy role of fanfiction as an art form. (if you disagree that fanfic is art you can stop reading here, that is my central premise).

I've been involved in fandom in one way or another for ~15 years, and I can still recall that in the days of yore on fanfiction.net, people would add "concrit welcome" or "read and CC!" in the notes if they wanted to receive constructive criticism. Actually, when I went back to delete my fanfiction.net account several months ago, I discovered also that I as a 13-year-old was exactly the kind of asshole who GAVE constructive criticism, in a tone that would make me furiously angry if someone left that kind of comment for me on AO3.

I can also recall that as a 13-year-old, I received some dismissive commentary that made me discontinue a fic entirely. It was a terrible fic, it was marauders-era HP fanfic about Sirius Black falling for an OC who was best friends with Lily Evans structured around Beatles lyrics. I shudder to think of it and am thrilled it is lost to the sands of time and internet decay. But when someone left a comment making fun of how unoriginal this concept was, it hurt my feelings and made me move on to a different fandom. (This was literally at least a decade before the two cakes meme).

When I moved over to livejournal, it quickly became clear that this was a safer space to experiment, the worst that would happen there was that a fic would go ignored, not that people would leave condescending criticism. Maybe sometimes someone would message you to point something out, or fix a typo or something, but any sort of criticism was happening in private where I couldn't see it. Livejournal is where I really started challenging myself to write interesting concepts or experimental styles (all of which I also shudder to think of now).

Fast forward to AO3, and it is entirely impolite and not the done thing to leave any sort of criticism on a piece of fanfiction. What's more, AO3 is an archive. The author appears far more as an author rather than as a lowly blog runner among many; it's only when you follow them to tumblr or discord that you get to know the person behind the story, otherwise they appear to you only as an author.

There's still a much greater familiarity than there is on, say, goodreads. Published authors have access to their goodreads pages, they can see everything you say about their books there and some of them do check, but the comforting distance of a publisher and a for-profit book makes us more okay with that than with an ao3-review that lands directly in the author's inbox or the snide remark in the bookmark tags that the author will also see. (although I see y'all out there creating goodreads pages for my fanfiction and that....my dudes that's just weird why are you doing this?)

At the same time, though, the fanfiction author did not invent being sensitive about negative feedback. Authors being butthurt about bad reviews has been around for about as long as books. And I get why! Writing is personal. You put a lot of yourself into each word, and having it be rejected, or even mildly criticized, is uncomfortable and unpleasant. There's something to be said for the fact that it's a lot easier to leave negative feedback than positive. It's much easier to pinpoint what you don't like about something than to praise specific things you liked - I actually think ao3 comments are a great practice arena for giving praise and valuing what's done well, a thing I know I don't do enough irl.

So we can say that one arena which separates the fanfiction author from the published author is the directness with which criticism is received. Critical comments go straight from one user to another. In most cases when I've received them, they have been anonymous, probably because the user knows they're breaking fandom norms. Sure, criticism is hurtful for published authors as well, but they have two benefits: one, they are spoken ABOUT and not TO. And two, which leads me to the second point, at least they're getting paid.

The other big issue people raise is that fanfic authors aren't being paid; they are contributing their fanworks out of love, often in spare time as students or while working full-time. Fanfiction is not a commodity, you aren't buying a service and as such you have no right, as a reader, to complain.

This is not a point I can or want to argue; fanfiction is a labor of love and to see the work someone put in and decide to tear them down over not being great at dialogue or whatever is just a dick move.

But.

The thing that gets to me, the white-hot burning core of this argument to me, is that it can't be absolute. And this is where I run up against the central issue of debates about anything substantive on twitter or tumblr, and also why this post is so fricking long - these points are made briefly and succinctly and when you do that it sounds like you're making an absolute statement about whether fanfic should be criticized at all, ever, and I don't think that works.

See, I happen to think a thread asking for "cancellable fanfic takes" is an easy way to stir shit - it's bound to step on some toes and if you're posting in that thread, you're going to have to be okay with stepping on toes.

However, I also think that people should be allowed to have opinions on fanfic tropes in general without authors taking it personally immediately. Like, here, let me out myself: I don't like high school AUs. At all. Don't read 'em. Sometimes I filter them out on AO3 because I don't want to see them!

What a hot take. If some seminal author of high school AUs in any of my fandoms happens to see this, I sure hope they don't take this as a personal affront and delete their fic, because I'm talking about the trope in general and I have not even read their fics because like I said - I don't like this trope! And I happen to think I should be allowed to say that without being criticized for criticizing!

I even, and this is where I'm being controversial, think I should be allowed to go on at great length about why and in what ways I dislike this trope (I think it often destroys adult characters' agency and I also think most high school AUs are wildly OOC). This is not personal towards writers of this trope in my opinion. I do understand why someone might take it personally and/or disagree, and if they do, it's my responsibility to be clear that I'm not saying this to be hurtful but to express my own issues with the trope, but I still think I can say this on my personal blog in my corner of the internet.

So why is it important that I can lay out my issues with high school AUs? Well, because a lot of the time, the criticism of fandom tropes in general that get the kind of "authors are doing this for free how dare you express criticism" response is not innocuous, it's criticism of fandom tropes that further racism, sexism, ableism, homophobia etc. And I don't think it's a coincidence that this particular case, where a fandom trend for this specific fandom was being talked about in general and an author took it personally, is being used to restate and enforce "no criticism in fandom spaces".

Like...no, fanfic authors are not being paid. Yes, this is a labor of love and doesn't deserve to be treated like published work, lacking both the time and attention from an editor. But at the same time, if you put something out there into the world and let people read it, they can think whatever they want about it, and if they think you are hurting people with it, that should be something they can say. One last anecdote to exemplify this point: A few months ago, I clicked on a fic featuring what was, to me, very clearly a situation of dubious if not entirely lacking consent. The fic was not tagged as such at all. I found it pretty upsetting that the fic did not acknowledge the consent situation at all, and left a comment asking for a dubcon tag. In order to do so, I felt like I had to praise a fic that had upset me wildly so the author wouldn't be hurt by me asking for a tag, and afterwards, I was annoyed at myself for basically grovelling in order to get an appropriate tag I could filter for.

Fanfiction is populated by people who love art so much they want to make more of it, they want to think about it and meta and create. Of course fans think about the art created in their own spaces, and of course they have takes about it!

But I think that when we are discussing the role of criticism in fandom spaces, we must crucially differentiate between

Personal, individually-given criticism

Criticism of craft, i.e. solicited, friendly and clear suggestions to improve pacing, dialogue, whatever

Criticism as abuse, i.e. unsolicited and abusive critical commentary

Meta-criticism, i.e. commentary on tagging/fandom norms (which can easily also be abuse

General criticism

Criticism of craft, i.e. criticism of fandom trends like the way anal sex is often written in ways not at all like it's practiced irl

Criticism of norms, i.e. criticism of structural oppression being recreated in popular story beats

Criticism of tropes, i.e. "why I personally don't like high school AUs" (this can blend easily with criticism of norms)

Why is criticism of norms not part of individually-given criticism? Well, because fandom keeps showing over and over that when racism within a fandom is called out, it ends up with the people doing the calling out being harrassed and threatened and the people creating racist content portraying themselves as victims because "you don't criticize fanfiction".

And that's why I think we need to talk about fandom's uncomfortable relationship to criticism.

[hansolmates]

a hero’s journey (m)

summary; jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story pairing; jungkook x editor!reader (f) genre/warnings; best friend’s boyfriend au, slice of life, angst with a happy ending because im weak, pining pINING, everyone’s kind of a mess in their own sweet special way, alcohol use, mentions of ze weed, toxic relationships, mean friends, sex—slight dom!kook, food play, fingering, squirting, heavy use of the petname “pretty girl” bc im weak, strength kink, manhandling (oop!) w.c; 22.2k a/n; woof! my first fic for @goldenclosetnetwork​ 23 | jungkook’s birthday project! this goes out to all the closet romantics *ahem me cough* who doesn’t love pining between a cutie koo? a huge thank u for vivi @eerieedits​ for making this bbbBEAUTIFUL fic banner!  

prompt used: “I should’ve known.”

if you like this fic pls consider giving a like n’share🥺💜🥺💜

It’s so easy to ignore the world. 

Maybe it’s a young-adult thing, but it gets difficult fitting into the 9-to-5 and playing to satisfy bosses that don’t entirely understand your work ethic. Maybe it’s out of complacency, or fear. But you prefer to let the world flow around you and when you’re needed, you’ll act. You’ve reached that point in your life where you enjoy the little things, satisfied by an extra hour of overtime tacked onto your paycheck, a new fabric softener, or finding the perfectly squishy yoga mat. 

You’ve finally started feeling comfortable in your shoes, uncaring as to whether you’re single or drowning in college debt, happy to live a relatively stable life. You’re grateful. There’s nothing more than you need than your happiness, and the love of your friends and family. 

Namely, your best friend from college. Jisoo always joked about how you two “won the lottery” as dorm rooms in freshman year were determined by lottery. Pulling numbers 883 and 884, you and Jisoo snagged a corner spot of the dormitory, leaving you two utterly cramped but utterly close as the years went by. Six years later and it’s still the case, the two of you have grown into talented working ladies. While you may not be able to spend time with each other the same way you did in school, you still care for each other. 

So when Jisoo shows up teary with a rumpled dress shirt and her hair waterfalling out of this morning’s bun, you break out the good alcohol and season three of Jane the Virgin for her. 

After the liquid is warm in your cheeks and you’ve fawned enough over Micheal and Rafael’s love triangle, you let Jisoo ramble. 

Jisoo has downed a whole bottle of soju on her own, while you’ve decided to have a tasteful glass of wine. You’d rather be tired wine drunk than wasted on soju. 

“Jungkook and I had a fight,” she warbles, stuffing a handful of popcorn in her mouth, “it was totally stupid.” 

Your eyes flash, picturing Jisoo and Jungkook in quarrel. They’re the epitome of an Instagram-worthy couple, beautiful and deathly charming to a fault. They show nothing but kindness and sweetness to you whenever you third-wheel, not a lick of anger between them when you’re all together.

So a fight is something surprising. Jisoo and Jungkook, J-squared are a power couple. Saying their names next to each other just emits a sort of energy you can only akin to famous small screen couples like Troy and Gabriella or Cory and Topanga. Jisoo’s Instagram is belly full with sweet selfies of them together, the doe-eyed man always looking completely sweet and gentle to the woman in his arms.

You never piqued Jungkook as the type of guy who would pick a “stupid fight.” And you know Jungkook pretty well. 

Maybe a little too well. 

“He surprised me during my lunch break and he caught me talking to Doyoung and he thought I was flirting,” Jisoo is practically eating her sweater, her head falling between her flannel pyjama sleeves. 

“Doyoung, as in your ex Doyoung?” you raise a brow. 

She groans, glaring at you in earnest. “Not you, too! I told him it was ridiculous to get jealous, and then I told him how jealous I get when he’s around girls and I don’t need to tell him that,” she rolls her eyes, twisting her feet petulantly in her fuzzy socks, “but then you know what he says back?” 

You wince, swirling your wine glass, “That you’re crazy?” 

“That I’m crazy, exactly! How did you—” her bloodshot eyes zero in on you, where you’ve tucked yourself in the corner of the couch. You swirl the ruby liquid in your cup, watching the feet web around the cheap crystal, “you think I’m crazy too, don’t you?” 

You swallow your sigh, taking your time to finish your liquid in languid sips. Uneasy, you wish you could just sink through the couch in order to avoid this conversation. Jisoo’s heart is generally in the right direction, but in terms of emotions she has the kind of sensitivity that you prefer to ignore rather than tread. Jungkook is also equally emotional, but in a different way. He wears his heart on his sleeve, preferring to keep things straight as opposed to bottling it up like Jisoo. 

However the theoretic bottle has reached it’s brim and Jisoo’s tipping, fast. 

“I need to tell you something,” Jisoo is swerving, crawling like an infant on wobbly limbs to reach your corner of the couch. You almost stop her, tell her you can continue this conversation in the morning, it’s what you normally do when she drinks into a stupor. But tears are swimming in her glassy caramel eyes and she’s grappling onto your blanket, resting her head in her lap. 

Her glossy russet strands curtain her head, so you don’t see the expression on her face when she says her next words: 

“Jungkook told me he liked you senior year, and I told him you weren’t interested so I’d have a chance.” 

Wow. So that explains everything.

The memories that you’ve tried so hard to brush away, the feelings you’ve tried so hard and continue to try to suppress, are laid out in front of you on a rusted platter. You could laugh, you could fling the rest of the Pinot Grigio down your throat like fresh water on a hot day and call it a night. 

But instead you choke back your tears, and push her off because you’re hurt.  

Deep down you know you would’ve been less upset if she told you the week after Jisoo and Jungkook called it official. If you knew from the beginning, it would’ve been easier on your heart. But it's been over two years since the past, thinking you’ve been needlessly, stupidly, delusional in thinking that you could’ve possibly had a chance with Jungkook.

Because it could’ve been you. And the reason why Jisoo and Jungkook fought today? Now you know it’s because deep down, they know they’re each other’s second choice. 

You can’t even recall a time where Jungkook and Jisoo were together alone before they suddenly started dating, remembering how it used to be you and Jungkook before Jisoo found him one day in your shared apartment, utterly smitten. And now you know you weren’t delusional, because the feelings and the signals you two were exchanging in senior year was real. 

But it doesn’t stop the fact that over two years have passed. Two years of a serious relationship between Jisoo and Jungkook, and two years of you secretly loving him from an arm’s length. 

“You hate me,” Jisoo removes herself from you, voice trembling. The quick, dark part of your mind wants you to snap back of course I hate you. You’ve trusted Jisoo with your life all these years, she was the reason you got through college so gracefully, why you enjoyed the past seven years of your life. 

But the sentiment is stained, and all you can do is deliver a tired smile and stand up. “I don’t hate you,” you say, “I’m just, really overwhelmed. I can’t lie and say that I’m not hurt,” your fingers clutch the fake crystal in your grasp, and for once you’re thankful you’re not strong enough to break it, “but you two love each other now and there’s no point in dwelling in the ‘what-ifs’.” 

Now that you think about it, when was the last time Jisoo treated you like a best friend? You stare at your wine glass, thinking that the only time comfort is provided in this apartment is when Jisoo is upset, never when you’re upset. 

Jisoo bobs her head senselessly, agreeing to every word. It’s pathetic, seeing her on her knees and her eyes glimmering with the hope that you’d forgive her straightaway. She must feel awful. That’s good.  

You sigh, needing to be the bigger person. “You need to call Jungkook and tell him he has nothing to worry about though, after all, you two have history now. As much, if not more than Doyoung.” 

“Right,” she replies, biting her lip. It suddenly feels like you're talking to a wall, carrying a conversation that's long ended.

“As for us,” you have half a mind to slam your glass on the counter, but instead you give it a heavy hand, letting slowly thump to the coffee table, “I don’t think I want to see you two, for a while.” 

“Understandable.” 

“And I don’t want to help you move out anymore,” I just want you gone.  

“Right,” she whispers. The both of you will be completed with your lease in two months, and Jisoo and Jungkook have decided to move into Jungkook’s apartment. As for you, you haven’t decided as to whether you want to go through the whole process of moving out or looking for a new roommate. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so so fucking sorry. I just was insecure as fuck in college and Jungkook was the first person I met in a long time that helped me feel more… like me.”

You want to say that she's right, she’s selfish. Her excuses aren’t palpable anymore. It’s too late. But if you were in Jisoo’s shoes, you’d think this apology is mere crumbs in comparison to your friendship. Why isn't she trying harder? Maybe because she doesn't know any better. After all, you never told her what you felt for him has morphed into love. 

You don’t even have to ask as to whether she’ll tell Jungkook this or not, you now know honesty is not her style. 

Jisoo doesn’t get a goodnight and a drunken kiss on the forehead like she usually does whenever you two have your late night talks. Instead, she seals herself to her own demise as you slam the door to your bedroom, effectively shutting each other out. 

Work is a bitch the following morning. You’re like molasses, rolling out of bed despite the whole world and its mother telling you to go back to sleep. 

Your feet are killing you as you make your walk to work, deciding to wear a pair of red-backed heels so you can stomp your way through your day. 

Your Wusband (Work-Husband) Kim Namjoon matches you step-for-step, eyes glued to his phone as he catches you on the sidewalk. “Woman on a mission,” he comments absentmindedly, eyes glued to his phone as he follows the click of your shoes to your favorite cafe. 

You spare a glance to your right hand-man, eyeing him appreciatively at his dedication to your morning routine. He’s your favorite co-worker, one who keeps you on time to your meetings and keeps you sane when you want to pull your hair out and dig out a coffin in your little cubicle. Namjoon’s long legs always seem to catch up with you during your workweek, whether it’s to get coffee in the morning or to talk shit about the latest gossip in the breakroom. 

The bell of the glass door tinkles in your ears as you enter the café, relatively busy for the morning rush. While you wait in line, Namjoon ticks off your activity list for today. 

“Meeting with Victoria is cancelled this morning,” you groan in relief, your supervisor Victoria always scares the shit out of you even when she’s not doing anything, “and just the usual proofing and whatever we have to do on the third floor today—can I get a large iced Americano with a pump of caramel? Thanks,” Namjoon moves aside so you can throw your order in as well, “and after work could you stop by Vernon’s? He took a sick day today and he has most of the manuscripts for the next issue.” 

“Done and done,” you swipe your card in the dip, tucking your card away in your zippered pouch. “So like, do Americanos taste any good? Like it’s literally watered down espresso how do you pay to drink watered down tar—” 

Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter. Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter swirling stray sugar crystals with his thumb and putting them in his napkin. What an impeccable display of Virgo energy, absentmindedly cleaning things he has no business doing. You scoff to yourself, recalling this morning that Jisoo got off the phone this morning with a stupid smile on her face. From the mirror image that Jungkook is excluding while he’s smiling on his cellphone like a smitten teenager, it seems like they’ve made up. 

Nevertheless the hurt from last night is still fresh in your bones, and you force yourself to look away despite the fact that your morning pick-me-ups are almost done and are sitting tauntingly next to Jungkook’s elbow. Does he really need to learn against the counter like he owns it? Hair slightly damp from the shower, your heart beats a little faster at the fresh image.His biceps are straining against his charcoal lycra long sleeve, which is slightly damp from his morning run. Snap out of it! You are a mature, working woman who does not swoon in the view of bulgy muscles, especially when the man who owns those muscles is taken. Suddenly there’s a call of your name, and two cups and a paper bag are put in front of Jungkook. 

He blinks, and you immediately pale when you see his eyes flit over your name surrounded by your favorite coral pink beverage. You feel struck as his head perks up at the name and he narrowly makes eye-contact—

“The fuck you’re doing,” Namjoon gripes, shoving your guava iced tea and croissant in your chest, “standing there like a moron as if we don’t got shit to do today.” 

“Sorry,” you mumble, pulling at the brown paper bag to tug a piece of croissant between your teeth. The warmth, buttery pastry melts in your tastebuds. Ah, bread. Nothing like a little bit of carb to make you feel better. 

You’re suddenly thankful for Namjoon’s gargantuan torso from effectively blocking you from Jungkook, hauling you out of the coffee shop like a petulant toddler. He doesn’t even give you a chance to catch another secret look at the object of your affections, making sure you’re back in your work game before you enter the building. Even if he doesn’t know it, Kim Namjoon’s always got your back. 

Or in today’s case, breathing down your back. 

Without your third editor and a hard deadline coming up by the end of the week, you and Namjoon are working in tandem throughout your 9-5 to complete drafts for Big Hit Publishings Arts & Media section. Both of you take turns to bring snacks and feed each other, feeling like reading zombies and slaves to your desk as you remind each other to breathe throughout the whole ordeal. 

In complete honesty you don’t totally mind. Namjoon is a great partner-in-crime, and you both love what you do and do a damn good job at it. You call it “Buzzfeed but with Benefits.” 

And at least for today, you could quell the feelings in your chest from last night and this morning. Sure, you’ve always been okay with the pining you’ve had for Jungkook. The feeling comes and goes whenever it pleases, and since yesterday you’ve been okay with just admiring from afar and being their third wheel. 

However, now the feelings are acutely comparable to a third-degree burn with the help of Jisoo playing with fire. 

With a quiet exhale, you concede in your gaming chair (because it’s just so damn comfy to keep in the office.) You’re an adult and not a petty child, and you will not let this piece of information derail you from your calm, stable lifestyle. 

But honestly? Fuck Jisoo. 

“Let’s go, buckaroo,” Namjoon logs off for you, the cinnamon-y smell of his shampoo effectively waking up your senses, “it’s already 5:30. And you said you’d stop by Vern’s to get his drafts.” 

“Right,” you blurt, mindlessly putting away your papers and snack wrappers in your bag. You can’t believe the whole day’s gone already. 

“Maybe you don’t even have to go to his apartment. Just text him or whatever.” 

“Sounds good, thanks Joonie.” 

“And y/n?” Namjoon gives you a look that causes you to force a terse smile, one you give one too many times to higher-ups at work. It isn’t to insult Namjoon by any means, but you guys are partners, the kind that tell way too much but hide just enough to remain close from afar. “Take it easy, will you?” 

“I will,” you concede, stretching your arms, “I’m def overdue for a massage.” 

“You don’t look sick,” you scoff, taking in the casual look your co-editor boasts as he leans casually against the doorway. 

Hansol Vernon Chwe is the epitome of fluffy, decked out in large electric blue sweats and his russet brown hair curling softly above his porcelain skin. Not only is he your co-editor, but also a friend from college. Not to the extent that you were with Jisoo and Jungkook, but you operated in the same publishing club and managed to get partnering internships that made you the co-workers you are today. You see a little bit of that collegiate youth in Vernon right now, as he looks well-rested and fresh faced despite the fact he probably didn’t apply moisturizer or drink enough water today.

“But you kinda do,” he tilts his head, noting the heels that adorn your feet, “you’re wearing your sexy shoes today, that means something’s going on.” 

“Gee, ever the ladies’ man,” you scoff, getting under his arm to invite yourself inside, “all I want is the completed interviews so we can pick out the best parts and draft them. Then I’ll be on my merry way.” 

“Oh c’mon, we’ve been talking nothing but work this whole damn month. What happened to college when we’d talk hours about House Hunters, the safeness of library sex, that little furry thing in Lincoln Hall’s urinal? That was prime conversation.” 

“Vern, I’m just here for the drafts,” you sit at his tiny kitchen table, glaring at his open laptop.  

“You could’ve just emailed me,” he teases, twisting around his chair so he can rest his arms against the back. “But since you’re here, that means you probably wanna spill some tea but you’re too upset to admit it.” 

“If I talk will you stop talking like that?” 

“Yes. Give me the juicy details. Need some juicy juice.” 

“Nevermind, get out of my apartment.” 

“Uh, this is my apartment.” 

“My point still stands,” you make another face at his outfit, “you look like the blueberry girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.”  

Vernon purses his lips, scooting his chair closer to yours. He’s unfazed by your insult, far used to your defenses being higher up than Fort Knox. He looks up at you with his pretty lashes and deceivingly sweet caramel eyes, leaning his head along the backrest. “C’mon, tell me what’s bothering you,” he says in a gentle tone, coaxing you open. 

He always knew how to do it for you, a little bit of sweet talking and that clear open gaze always reduced you to shreds in university. For him, it always took a good meal and some sci-fi movies to get him to talk. That must be why you’ve stayed friends for so long, you two knew how to connect. 

Finally you crack, kicking off your shoes and hoping the sharp end doesn’t land on his cat. You hear Luna meow in protest but she’s got great reflexes. Unbuttoning the first three buttons of your stuffy blazer, you air out your cleavage, not caring about Vernon’s gaze. He’s seen worse. 

“Remember Jeon Jungkook? Majored in graphic design.”

“Ah, yeah. The guy who like, lived at the gym and the dining hall? Haven’t seen him in a minute,” his eyes seem to glaze over the glory days, reminiscing in the simultaneous safetynet and stressor that made up your early twenties, “didn’t you guys hit it off real well? Like I remember you ditched like—three sci-fi nights to study with him. Who even studies at 1AM?” 

“Yeah, we did,” and you can’t help but frown at as you remember the 7-Eleven runs, the utter warmth you felt when he would wipe a stray rice grain off your cheek, and how happy you felt to laugh so much with him it hurt, “but uh. Jisoo got drunk last night, because they had a fight. And she sort of admitted to me that she sabotaged our relationship and told Jungkook I wasn’t interested in him so they could start dating. Two years later and here we are.” 

A pause. And then, “Want a beer?” 

Vernon doesn’t even wait for a response when he gets up, bare feet slapping against the tile as he prepares some drinks and snacks for you. 

“That’s pretty fucked up,” he practically sing-songs among the cacophony of popcorn pop-pop-popping in the microwave. The aroma of buttery kernels is all but a relief, reminding you of movie matinees, “and like, she knew you liked him! It was totally obvious, even if you didn’t spell it out for her.” 

“Yeah,” you practically gushed to Jisoo those past two months, every waking moment with heart-eyes over the talented graphic designer Jeon Jungkook. 

“I can’t believe Jisoo would keep that a secret from you for so long. Like, can you even trust her anymore?” 

“Don’t know, was she even my bestfriend or was I just a good roommate to her?” you ask. Vernon is holding two beers in one hand and a bag of popcorn by the tips of his fingers in the other, careful to not burn himself. Opening the beer for you, you thank him and take a long swig.

“Well, good thing you’re still not in love with him or whatever. That would really suck. Unless—”

The look on your face says it all. You’re practically snotting into your bottle, your face tucked into your chin as you fight hard to stop the tears you’ve been suppressing for the last two years. “Don’t give me your pity,” you garble, turning away from the sad look Vernon gives you as he wraps his arms around you. 

The tears are soft and gentle, flowing freely onto the cotton of Vernon’s arms as you let it out. 

“‘M’not,” he concedes, rubbing his chin into your neck. He really is a lot like Luna, just like his  cat ready to give you affection. “Let’s just, get some take-out and watch Hamilton or something.” 

He lets you wear his matching sweat suit, lime green, as you order Thai food and rap along to Hamilton’s sick beats. Vernon does a better job keeping the flow, but you’re having a good time being his hype man as he parades around the living room like it’s 1776. 

You go home that night around ten o’clock, feeling noticeably lighter and more relaxed. Be that it may you are still wearing the sweatpants and heels ensemble, you feel comforted. 

The apartment is quiet when you walk in, not a single light turned on. You get a slice of the city lights bleeding in from the organza curtains, which allow you to kick off your heels and hobble to where you think the kitchen counter is. 

Today is Jisoo’s day to cook dinner. You can tell she decided to cook today from the faint smell of Japanese curry and a small unwashed plate in the sink. Whenever it was someone’s turn, they usually left an extra bowl or serving in it for the other roommate when they got home. Unsurprisingly, you find no such thing on the counter or in the fridge. 

You’re not upset, but rather decided. If Jisoo is going to let your friendship fade off with no intention of redeeming herself, then you should give her the same amount of energy back. You realize now the apology she gave last night wasn’t for you, but empty words to make her feel better and mend whatever toxicity she’s created in her own relationships. People like Namjoon and Vernon reminded you that you didn’t need to try and earn other people’s friendships. 

It’s disappointing, but the feeling is all but too familiar. 

If you could describe Jisoo as anything, it would be the color pink. Blushing, beautiful, beguiling pink. The way she flushes when Jungkook does an uncalled for grandiose gesture of romance, or when she wears a hot magenta number when she’s hosting a fashion show. Jisoo is the personification of La vie en rose, unbothered and unabashed.  

But now all you see when you think of Jisoo? Nothing but red. 

With that, you go in your room and untack the polaroid of you and Jisoo at the carnival last month, putting it away in your junk drawer to be forgotten. 

“You’re running away.” 

“Am not.” 

“Are too,” that interjection comes from Vernon’s roommate, Jung Hoseok. He’s been watching you two bicker over work for the past hour while he plays GTA5, failing to get a good hard carry because you and Vernon are too busy discussing whatever finishing touches you need on your final draft. 

“No one asked for your opinion, Jung,” you throw over your shoulder. 

“I’m just saying,” Hoseok flicks his wrist and nabs a tank, “you never wanna go home, you eat all our food, and I found your pyjamas in my laundry basket.” 

“You said your basket was the blue one,” you hiss under your breath. 

“The navy blue one,” Vernon chirps unhelpfully, “not the electric blue one.” 

Hoseok hits “save” on his campaign, disconnecting from his PS4 and stretching his lean limbs. “I mean, we could use a third roommate,” Hoseok jokes, getting up from the couch and grabbing a handful of M&Ms from your bowl, “you do make a bomb mac n’cheese.” 

“Appreciated,” you relent when Hoseok presses a kiss to your cheek and tells Vernon he’ll be back late working, leaving you and Vernon alone in their shared apartment. When Hoseok is gone, you stare at the door, tilting your head, “y’know,” you remark, “Hoseok’s a cool guy, why did I never hang out with him in college?” 

“Because he was stoned the majority of senior year and you just didn’t vibe with that crowd.” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

“But, you’re trying to change the subject,” Vernon carefully untacks your hands from your keyboard, knowing that you two have already been done with this month's issue and you’re now just mindlessly re-reading emails. “You’ve been here since Thursday, and now it’s Saturday. And as much as Hoseok and I like having you around so you can wake me up before we go to work, it’d be nice to throw me a bone and let me in on what you’re thinking right now.” 

You frown, noting Vernon’s large hand covering your laptop closed. He isn’t going to remove his hand anytime soon unless you talk. “Jungkook’s helping Jisoo pack up her half of the apartment this weekend and I don’t want to be there,” you say, short and simple. 

“You miss her?” 

“Yeah,” you admit honestly. You hate this version of yourself, unable to even look at Jisoo nowadays despite the fact you’re under the same roof for the remainder of the month. It’s hard to believe that the roommate from six years ago finally got under your skin, cancelling out all the years of friendship because of one silly relationship, “sad she doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.” 

“Did you talk about it?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you reply despondently, “if she cared at all she would’ve to apologize again by now.”

Vernon figures, and his neutral expression doesn’t change as he leads you to the couch, brushing away Hoseok’s things so you two can get comfy. You busy yourself with the remote, exiting the PS4 homepage to scroll Netflix. 

“And are you trying to get over him?” 

“I mean, yeah,” you have been, but it’s a little hard when you’ve been contentedly pining. It was easy to keep your feelings bottled up because you originally thought Jisoo and Jungkook were meant to be for each other for the past two years. Now you're still pining but ruefully bitter at Jisoo.

“It’s not fair, y’know. She broke girl code, bros before hoes. Or is it chicks before dicks?” Vernon shakes his head at his lame attempt to get you to smile, which works anyway because Vernon’s silly and his sense of humor always gets you a little loose. “It’s your house too, you shouldn’t feel like you don’t belong there.” 

“Well I was supposed to help her move out this weekend, and I’d prefer it if Jungkook didn’t know what was going on.” 

“What?” your friend furrows his thick brows together, tucking his hands under his knees as he leans into your stubborn expression. “You’re gonna let Jungkook go on with his life not knowing that his relationship is based on a lie. That’s not cool. Even if you’re into him, he’s still your friend.” 

Damn, when did Vernon get so good at giving advice? Truth is Vernon’s always been good at dishing advice, you’ve just been privy to what you wanted to reveal to him. The first year or so being together outside of college was always about work, saving each other’s asses to ensure you two got that promotion and aim higher and higher. Now that goal is out of the way, and what better way to reconnect over some shoddy romance straight out of a Degrassi special? 

“I know,” you hug your knees tight to your chest, “when I’m ready, okay?” 

“Okay,” he agrees, because he’s not a pusher, “do you know the best way to get over someone?” 

“What?” 

“The best way to get over someone, is to get under someone," he emphasizes that point with his hands, sliding one under the other with a wiggle of his thick brows.

You slap him on the shoulder, “Vern, you disgust me.” 

“But it works!” 

“I’m not going on Tinder to find a fuckbuddy.” 

“You don’t have to look on Tinder or Tumble.” 

“Bumble.” 

“Whatever,” and his eyes flicker to his lap, where his pale fingertips turn red as he grips the edge of a throw pillow. "If you really don't wanna find someone, I can help." 

Is Vernon offering himself up? He is offering to fuck your brains out in the hope that you could inevitably fuck out your interest in Jungkook? Your eyes flicker over to Vernon's form on the couch, who's tucked in the couch just as you are. 

It’s true that you find Vernon attractive, and to some extent he definitely finds you attractive as well otherwise he wouldn’t have suggested the idea. It’s just that in college you never viewed him in that kind of light, probably because you were always so caught up in Jungkook. But tonight you can’t seem to ignore the eagerness hidden in Vernon’s carmine gaze, and how shiny and touchable his chocolate locks look under the setting sun. 

“I don’t want our friendship to change,” you reply slowly, furrowing your brows. “I appreciate it, but I don’t know. It sounds like a temporary fix.” 

“Can’t knock it if you don’t try it,” and out of curiosity, you don’t shy away when Vernon leans over to you, squeezing himself between the couch so he can tuck you in his arms. “I want to help you, but only if you want to.” 

Maybe it’s the frustration you feel with Jisoo, Jungkook’s ignorance, or the fact that you haven’t felt physical pleasure in such a long time, but you soften into Vernon’s hold. He’s relaxed, nothing betraying him as he waits patiently for your answer. You’ve always admired how much he kept up his “cool as a cucumber” demeanor. He isn’t the type of guy to let life pass him by, but he’s the kind of person who walks along life, embracing the ups and downs like old friends. He’s the ocean waves that crest along the shore, pushing and pulling along without a care in the world. 

He’s the textbook opposite of Jeon Jungkook, which is why you give Vernon the okay to lean in and press his lips against yours. 

His kisses are soft, and he takes great care in making sure you’re comfortable with this new step in your relationship. It almost feels as if you’re cutting corners, and you can’t help but feel a little guilty that you revel in the way Vernon’s hands trail under your too-large t-shirt. 

The pleasure you’ve ached for is there, bubbling low in the pit of your belly. It’s hard to get you out of your mind however, because this man isn’t the one you love. His kisses hold no power, only brief reprieve. Your heart doesn’t palpitate and your palms don’t sweat, you’re just languid. 

You’re greedy and selfish, but you remind yourself that it’s okay to allow yourself of these freedoms, even for a little bit. As Vernon finds your sweet spot that has you rolling your hips against his, you find that temporary fix isn’t a bad start at all. 

When you trudge back to your apartment that night after much reluctance, your face is still flushed and you think you smell a little too much like Vernon’s cologne. But the fact that still stands is that you're satiated, and you feel a tiny percent closer to moving on. 

The television is glowing with a terrible reality TV show, angry brides upset over cake layers or whatever. Jungkook and Jisoo have fallen asleep on the couch, surrounded by half-empty boxes. Jungkook has his arm lazily over Jisoo, her petite body fitting perfectly between his chest and the crook of his neck. 

You scoff when you spy Jisoo's bedazzled manicure digging into Jungkook's bicep, as if someone's going to take him away if she doesn't hold tight.

With stiff muscles you spare one look at Jungkook, ignoring the pang in your chest as you weave between boxes to turn the TV off. Barely an iota of your feelings have dissipated since your previous tryst with Vernon not an hour ago. Looking at Jungkook brings it all back, unfortunately. You suppose the feelings will pass with time. The soft hum of the television ceases, and you’re bathed in a room that feels dark and empty, despite the apparent life in the room. 

There’s some bleary talk coming from the couch as you walk to your bedroom, and if Jungkook is sleepily mumbling your name in question, you pretend you don’t hear. 

“So, where’s y/n? I thought she was going to help us pack.” 

It’s an innocent enough question, as Jungkook scans the corner of the living room hallway that leads to the bedrooms. You haven’t come out yet. He knows that you love sleeping in on the weekends, but he hopes the smell of fresh food will coax you to the table. His pan is sizzling in protest, telling Jungkook to quit talking and flip the hashbrowns. He's fried up three, in the hopes you’d be up for some crispy potatoes. He knows how much you love potatoes, especially at 2AM when you’re craving fries and a McFlurry combo. 

Instead Jisoo mutters, “You toasted too much bread, you know I don’t eat bread like this,” she’s pulling slice by slice out of the toaster, until there’s a stack of six golden toasts in the middle of the kitchen table. 

A little part of him wishes to quell the precursor to the argument there. It would be so easy for Jungkook to say, “the extras are for me” because he’s trying to gain weight, and that would be that. 

Instead he continues with his unanswered question and replies honestly, “I made extra toast for y/n, babe. She was supposed to help us pack but I haven’t seen her all weekend.” But he’s pretty sure you came home last night, unless that was his imagination. 

Jisoo pulls a carafé of apple juice out of the fridge, pouring the amber liquid into two glass cups. “Ah, she said she had some last minute things to do for work. Y’know, Big Hit always wants a big hit.” 

He chuckles, tilting his head as Jisoo gives him a small smile from the kitchen table. Jisoo is always good at cheesy jokes. “She must love her job, huh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Her articles are really good, too,” the air smells like butter and Italian seasoning, as he places one hash brown on Jisoo’s plate, and two on his. He knows you edit in the Arts & Media section, and loves how you make it a point to include video games and modern graphics when it’s deemed appropriate. “She did a piece on the evolution of RPG and I thought her commentary was really spot-on.” 

He brings breakfast over to the table, while Jisoo places two slices of toast on his plate, one buttered and one with strawberry preserves. Breakfast is a quiet, but peaceful affair. Jungkook takes note of how Jisoo takes extra long to complete her meal, her fork creating ribbons in her little blob of magenta jam. He allows himself to complete his first hashbrown and a slice of toast before asking the difficult question. 

“Are you and y/n okay?” and he also takes note when Jisoo’s ministrations on her jelly stop, as she looks up at him with her big brown eyes. 

“We’re fine,” she insists, “just normal roommate issues, I promise.” 

“Maybe I should text y/n,” Jungkook says, pulling out his phone. “Lemme help you fix this, wouldn’t want you and her in a bad place when you’re about to move out.” 

“Baby, why are you so concerned about y/n?” Jisoo croons while his thumb hovers over your contact, his screen showing a two-year old selfie you two took during a study session early on in your friendship. He can’t remember the last time you two took a picture together out of spite, one without Jisoo. Jisoo’s hand pulls him away from his phone, rubbing small circles between his palm. 

He wants to ask, why aren’t you? But he sees the terseness in Jisoo’s smile, as her eyes fix between the interlocked fingers. He has a feeling he’s hovering somewhere he isn’t allowed to be in. Maybe it really is roommate stuff and it’s none of his business, but he feels a little insulted being left out because you and Jungkook are just as much best friends as you were in college. 

Or are you? 

This question plagues him throughout the day, and when Jungkook packs enough boxes for the weekend and says he needs to go home, Jisoo for once doesn’t argue. Normally Jisoo would cling to him like a koala, murmur simultaneously adorable and dirty things in his ear and lead him to her bedroom to coop up for hours on end. But Jisoo says she’s tired and needs some alone time, which is also fine. 

He doesn’t feel like going home, and instead heads straight to the gym. A couple pumps wouldn’t hurt, and it would clear his head. It’s nearly five in the evening when his body is thrumming with the afterglow of his post-workout, and he decides to take a little cool down in the mall and treat himself to a smoothie. 

It must be kismet when he sees you coming out of the bookstore, looking a little winded but no less professional in your beige blazer set and rose gold iPad. Whenever he hung around your apartment with Jisoo and you’d come home from work, he’d make it a point to acknowledge your plethora of multicolored skirt-suits. He never needs to be professional in his place of work, and admires how much effort you put in. 

“Hey!” he jogs up to you, and he catches the way your shoulders jump at his voice. “We missed you today.”

Your smile curls into something dry, and you twist your spine like rusty hinges to face him. In turn, his smile dims a little, wondering if he’s doing something wrong. Maybe you’re tired? He catches the line of sweat that glistens your baby hairs, and how your hair is done up but has fallen a few centimeters with some pieces falling out. 

“Jungkook,” you exhale, “lifting boxes wasn’t enough of a workout?” 

“You know me,” he replies stiffly, hiking his backpack higher upon his shoulder. Why does this conversation feel so awkward? “So, finishing up work? Sucks you have to work on a Sunday.” 

“Ah, it wasn’t so bad,” you face relaxes a little as you explain your work, “it was children’s day at the bookstore and they were watching Disney movies. I’m writing a piece on how I believe Ratatouille is Pixar’s magnum opus. Interviewed some kids, I wanted an expert opinion.”  

“Ratatouille is the superior film,” he declares with a firm nod, “after all, anyone can cook.” He revels in the small smile he manages to retrieve from you, immediately understanding the inside joke. If he came out of the gym five minutes earlier, he probably would’ve been able to catch you in the bookstore. What a shame, he would’ve loved to see you play around with the kids. 

At the mention of food, the mall manages to silence itself enough for him to catch the grumbling coming from your stomach. He laughs when your cheeks heat. 

“I was on my way to get some smoothies,” he jabs a thumb in the direction of the food court, “wanna catch up and get a bite?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, I have a lot of work to edit,” disappointment pangs in his chest at your easy rejection, but he ignores it, “I kinda wanna save some money too, still not sure if I’m staying in the apartment after Jisoo moves.” 

He doesn’t know what compels him to take your shoulders and wheel you in the direction of the food court, much to your protest and whines. “C’mon, explain to me why Ratatouille is the magnum opus—I need to defend why The Incredibles is superior. I’ll treat you to dinner.” 

“What? I can pay for my own food—” 

“And I can’t treat my best friend to a nice meal once in a while?” 

That has you stopping in your tracks, and Jungkook nearly barrels his chest into your head if not for the grippy soles of his Adidas Ultraboosts. He can’t see your face, but his hands note how your muscles cord tightly between the cotton of your blazer. 

He doesn’t understand why you’re so tense. Was it because he called you his best friend? Well, you are? At one point he felt that way, early on in college. The position just stuck with you. And when Jisoo told him you weren’t interested, he was perfectly fine with the platonic relationship. It was nice to have someone to talk media and video games to, someone not as chaotic as Jimin and someone not as deterred as Yoongi. 

Although, maybe as of late he hasn’t been so much of a friend. It’s no one’s fault, he’s been caught up with work and Jisoo’s move, he hasn’t said so much as a “hey how are you” when you’re around. He can’t blame you. 

Suddenly his mind blanks, the mall fading away as he focuses on how small you look as your eyes dart between the parking lot and the food court. Jisoo and Jungkook have been so caught up on each other lately, that he fears you’re starting to separate yourself.

“Um, this place is good,” you tug him by the elbow and lead him to a fast food joint. 

When he picks up both your orders and comes over to your saved table, you’re talking animatedly on the phone. You’re laughing, looking at Jungkook as if he’s the one intruding and you’re muttering a hushed “sorry” as you continue the tail end of the conversation. 

“Yes, Joonie. Go with section two, I know my shit. I’m your Work Wife for a reason, Umji in PR could never compare,” you’re giggling like you’re five years younger, and Jungkook feels stuck in a timelapse. 

He watches you go, throwing around names and terms that he’s so lost on but so desperate to understand. He knows nothing about your life other than the one that’s tied with Jisoo, which is a damn shame. Since when did he inevitably downgrade you from “best friend” to “his girlfriend’s roommate?” 

“I’m sorry,” you turn your phone over and push it to the side, giving Jungkook a smile as well, albeit weaker, “let’s dig in!” 

To his relief the dinner goes as good as it should be. You have your tray practically overflowing at the seams, all on Jungkook’s dime. It has his heart swelling with pride, he hasn’t seen you eat in a long time. There’s fries spilling out from the corners, and two sandwiches because you couldn’t decide between a chicken sandwich and a burger. 

Food gets you amicable, and he doesn’t mind when he does most of the talking. You’re engrossed in his talk, lettuce hanging out of your mouth as you’re rapt with attention as he recalls a story that happened at work recently with Mingyu. You ask questions in all the right places and he sucks up all your attention like a happy pill, and it feels nice to be able to lead a conversation for once. 

“Jeez, I’m getting the burger sweats,” you giggle to yourself, and his smile brightens at your positive change in attitude. Food always helps. 

When you remove your thick high-collar blazer, that’s when he sees it. 

“Seeing someone?” he asks, eyes flickering curiously towards the violet bruises that bloom across your neck. 

“What–oh,” you have the audacity to look embarrassed, hands clutching your neck like a shield, “no, just a hookup.” 

A messy hookup, too. Unless you had a thing for showing off marks, which doesn’t seem to be the case. “Didn’t peg you for someone who hooks up,” he says more to himself than you, but you catch him on his impulse jab. 

Your eyes narrow and your defenses go up, “I’m trying to get over someone,” you snip back, busying your hands by crushing up your greasy sandwich wrappers. 

“Am I allowed to state my opinion?” 

“Since you asked so politely, no.” 

He sighs, “I just don’t think that’s the best way to get over someone,” heck, Jungkook doesn’t even know who exactly you’re trying to get over. He just knows that you’re far too smart and independent to let yourself resort to such matters. 

“It isn’t, but it’s really the best option as of now,” you reply curtly. 

And his gaze saddens as he sees you fold your blazer over your arm, indicating that your time is up. Jungkook is aware the comment he made is out of line, and it weakens him knowing that you don’t even want to pick a fight with him. He can’t even find it in himself to apologize properly. 

He doesn’t know if he’s more sad that you’re pining over someone unattainable or upset at himself for not knowing you’ve been harboring feelings for someone. If you really think hooking up is your only option, you must be really hung about whoever you’re into as of late. 

“If it’s worth anything,” Jungkook adds, wanting to leave on a high note, “fuck that guy. He clearly doesn’t deserve you.” 

A small, secret smile plays on your lips, “Yeah, I like to believe that.” 

“I’m anxious,” Namjoon’s mantra makes the whole energy in the room wobbly, paired with the fact the two of you are squished between cardboard boxes as Jungkook aimlessly moves things around like a Tetris screen. 

The only time you feel remotely comfortable basking in your home is when Jisoo is gone. Oh-so conveniently is the Big Hit building undergoing maintenance today, so you and Namjoon have decided to work from home in your apartment. Although you thought by now that Jisoo’s boxes would be long gone and tucked away in Jungkook’s place, instead you’re living in an episode of Ed, Edd and Eddy and the cardboard is practically wall-to-wall. You also thought by now that Jungkook would have no reason to show up unannounced anymore, but apparently that’s not the case. 

“I have, anxiety,” Namjoon adjusts his glasses for the nth time this afternoon, brain not fixed enough to focus on the screen of his chrome MacBook, “anxiety, anxiety. I can’t right now. I need my weighted blanket and a pillow.” 

“Namjoon, I can get both of those for you if we just send in this last spread,” you coo gently, as if placating a baby. You make brief eye contact with Jungkook from the other side of the room, his lips quirking in amusement as he stacks a box of clothes by the kitchen. 

“Do you feel my palms? My palms, they’re like a fucking fountain you need to feel them—” your Wusband approaches you like a zombie, leaning over you and tripping over his criss-crossed legs before he topples over you. 

“Blegh, get off of me you sweat giant!” you cry with a good-natured laugh, although the grip of Namjoon’s palms under your shoulders are damp and slimy, “Joon, I can’t get you your blanket if you’re crushing my boobs.” 

Namjoon finally relents, untacking himself to rest his chin on your glass coffee table. “Fine.” 

“Look over the last column and I’ll bring your blanket, okay?” 

Pushing yourself off the ground, you shuffle your way out of the living room through the maze of boxes and into the hallway. It feels like your apartment is less of an apartment and more of a storage space when you’re trapped in-between two lines of boxes, and Jungkook effectively blocking you from entering your room. He was just in the living room but now he’s come from the linen closet, standing between the entrance of your room. 

“Sorry,” he pops his head out from a smaller box, one filled with designer costume jewelry. 

“It’s fine,” you chirp, barely making eye contact as you shuffle over the boxes. 

Your toe drags over the lid of one of the open boxes in an attempt to move diagonally. You nearly crash your face into the hardwood if not for Jungkook’s arm stretching out to catch you. In seconds he manages to catch all your weight in one hand, pulling you to him with your hip pressed against his. Your breath traps itself in your neck. Your subconscious fears that if you speak now, you’ll babble about how attractive it is that he’s able to catch you as easily as grabbing a light sheet of paper. 

“Careful,” his voice rumbles in his throat as he regards you with a wan smile. 

Your “thanks” is barely uttered as you slip into your room, heaving your weighted blanket and a pillow in your arms to let Namjoon borrow. 

The burgundy quilted fabric is hunched over your shoulder, draped around your body so it’s easier for you to carry on your back. You try to eradicate the memory of Jungkook’s arms, lean and strong as he held you to him moments before.

Ugh, you thought messing around with Vernon would stop your silly pining. It seems that it’ll take more than a couple rounds to satiate your curiosity. For such a kind guy, Jungkook seems like a wolf in sheep’s clothing when it comes to the bedroom. 

You can imagine him being so kind in the beginning, coaxing you to wan and bend to his every wish and command. And then when you keen a little too hard at the attention, you bet a switch would flip and he’d grab you—

The blanket flops around your back, and you’re sorely reminded that you’re thirsting over a taken man, yet again.  

Jungkook makes it extremely difficult for him to be hateable. It’s by nature that he’s just so damn likeable. Heck, he’s pretty much packed seventy percent of the things Jisoo should be packing right now. 

Making sure not to trip again, on your feelings and your blanket, you successfully reach a tired Namjoon. You tuck your koala-shaped pillow under your co-editor’s arms, and drape the heavy blanket over him like a cape. He’s giving you a thumbs up and a toothless smile, the previous meltdown overcome as he focuses on finishing the last of today’s work. He’s slipped on some noise-cancelling earphones, presumably filled with generic coffee-house music or rain playlists. 

Wordlessly you go to your nook to prepare some tea. It’s getting late and a warm cup would distract you from the impending deadline. Despite the fact that you and Namjoon are 99% of the way done, his previous freak-out has you on live-wire and you could use a little caffeine. 

Placing three mugs on the counter you call, “Jungkook, tea?” 

“Yes please,” you stiffen when you feel Jungkook magically appear right behind you, his head peering over your shoulder, “with milk and honey.” 

Deciding to give Jungkook the beehive-shaped mug because it’s very on-brand for him, you begin to steep the leaves in your kettle while he spoons the honey. 

“So,” his words are slow as the drip of honey, the amber goo taking its time to descend into his mug as it falls from the dipper. “Is that the guy you’re trying to get over?” 

Jungkook lifts his brows towards Namjoon, who is softcore jamming to his white noise playlist. It’s cute as to how curious Jungkook is about Namjoon. While you try to keep your work life separate, there really isn’t much backstory to your personal life to warrant that kind of divide. 

“Namjoon,” you state aloud, watching Namjoon sing badly to himself, “why, are you gonna beat him up for me?” 

“I can take him,” you can practically hear Jungkook’s chest pop out. 

With a roll of your eyes, you reach to kill the heat off the tea kettle, “No need. He isn’t the guy I’m trying to get over.” 

“Oh, he’s your fuck buddy then?” 

“Shit!” being caught off guard, you grab at the handle of your kettle without a pot holder, burning your fingertips. In seconds Jungkook’s larger hand encases your own, pulling you over to the sink to soak your fingers in cool running water.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jungkook is chanting like a sinner at church, searching for any sign of pain in your visage, “I shouldn’t have asked while you’re working with a hot stove.” 

You suppress a sigh, relaxing your fingers as Jungkook soothes the burn with his gentle hold, “Shouldn’t have asked in the first place,” you mumble. 

“I know,” he replies, “guess I’m just feeling a little left out. We don’t talk like we used to. I guess I’m getting a little too nosy for my own good, aren’t I?” 

You don’t understand what’s going on with his incessant babbling as of late, but you chalk it up to work stress and Jisoo’s move. Having no answers to his honest reply, you gently untack your red palm from his grip, assuring him that you’re fine. 

Namjoon steps into your kitchenette, being surprisingly careful as he takes your potholder to pour himself a cup of tea. If the tea is oversteeped and bitter he doesn’t say anything, only leans against the counter as he regards you two with slow sips. “You alright?” 

“M’fine,” you reply stubbornly, avoiding Jungkook’s worried stare. 

Namjoon holds out his hand, “Hand.” 

“No—”

“Hand.” 

His deep voice coerces you, and you immediately slap the back of your palm onto Namjoon’s. Your partner brushes his golden hands over the tiny blister that’s forming over your fingertips. “Can’t have my Work Wife outta commission.” 

“Your Work Wife is fine,” you gripe back. 

Your co-worker’s eyes flicker over to Jungkook’s for a brief second, Jungkook regarding him in curiosity as he stares at your connected palms. “I have some aloe in my bag for sunburns,” Namjoon offers helpfully, ignoring the weird glances, “I’ll give it to you in a bit. Also, I’ve overcome my sudden bout of stress and I’m ready to email our progress to Victoria. We’re done for the day.” 

“Awesome, thanks Joonie,” you exhale, relaxing against the sink, “wanna go eat somewhere?” 

“There’s a niche place in Itaewon if you wanna check it out?” Namjoon offers.

Jungkook interjects, “Jisoo ordered pizza if you guys wanna share with us?” 

“Pizza also sounds good—” 

“We don’t wanna interrupt your alone time,” you gracefully cut in, stepping in front of Namjoon despite the fact that he’s easily towering over you. 

Jungkook snorts, “I’ll have enough alone time with her when she moves in, don’t worry. Besides, I ordered three pies because I wanted to try three different flavor combos. I need two additional judges.” 

“Thanks Jungkook but,” you stifle a cry when Namjoon jabs you in the back with his thumb. It’s pressing, digging into the small of your back as if he’s trying to telepathically tell you that you’re being rude, “but… I don’t know if I can eat three slices! Namjoon on the other hand, can probably eat enough to fairly judge.” 

“Great,” Jungkook’s smile is blinding, causing your grin to stiffen as he looks for his phone to shoot Jisoo a quick text that they’re having dinner for four. 

Once Jungkook’s out of earshot, Namjoon tugs you by the sleeve, “The hell was that?” he hisses in your ear, “you look like you’re about to shit and piss your pants at the same time.” 

“I just don’t feel comfortable eating with them,” you cross your arms in defiance. You think back to just a week ago where you and Jisoo reluctantly attempted to eat breakfast together one morning. You provided minimal small talk while Jisoo clinged to her phone, replying to you in non-committal clipped tones. 

“Do I want to know?”

“No.” 

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” you retort, “you got me into this mess, you’re gonna stay with me ‘till the end.”

“I don’t know what you want from me, woman,” Namjoon throws his arms out exasperatedly, oolong tea nearly sloshing onto his hand, “just suck it up or I revoke your bragging rights to that snag you got on our spread next Monday.” 

“Not my fault you couldn’t get Kim Taeyeon on the spread,” you smirk. 

“Well I didn’t so happen to stalk the Sephora she frequents for the past two weeks—” 

“I didn’t stalk her I just so happened to need a new Fenty Gloss Bomb every other day—”

“I’m home, Jungkookie!” 

Your face contorts, your playful energy melting to the hardwood as your previous banter with Namjoon evaporates into thin air. Work bags in one hand and three boxes of pizza balancing in the other, Jisoo kicks off her heels somewhere across the door and places the pizza on the dining table. 

Jungkook immediately appears by her side, and you look away and Jisoo plants a heavy kiss on his lips. She cracks open one eye as she notices you and Namjoon hanging by the kitchenette, “Oh,” she mumbles at her audience, “you’re here?” 

Yes, you bimbo. I’m here in my own apartment. 

“I guess you didn’t read my text that they’ll be joining us for dinner,” Jungkook cuts in good-naturedly, “we have way too much pizza anyway. Have a seat, guys.” 

Jungkook navigates the kitchen as easily as your own, and you slump in your chair while Namjoon exchanges pleasantries with Jisoo. She looks impeccable, hair in a tight chignon and a tight navy dress as she converses with your co-editor. 

“I’m starving,” Jungkook announces, making sure to place a slice on Jisoo’s plate. He shuffles through the other boxes, making brief eye contact with you when he decides to put a slice on yours as well, “you like these toppings, right?” 

You regard the greasy, hearty piece of cheese and bread with a curt nod. You feel Jisoo’s eyes laser on your skin, “Yeah, thanks Kook.” 

Namjoon, Jisoo and Jungkook mostly stir up the conversation, you opting to eat as slow as possible to avoid any conversation. It’s easy to blend back and let them take over, as Jisoo loves to talk about her fashion firm and Namjoon is a great listener. 

Jungkook and Namjoon make it a point to direct the conversation to you from time to time, and you let the ball leave your court as soon as it lands. You prefer to keep your responses short and simple, especially when Jisoo is so eager to talk about the new silk drapes she’s installing for Jungkook’s windows.

Your phone buzzes in your lap, and you discreetly look under the table to read the incoming text message. 

vernie bernie: would u like to do the devil’s dance tonight

vernie bernie: or a tickle to my pickle? 

vernie bernie: beatin ya bean? 

You: ohmyGOD 

vernie bernie: or y’know, u could just come ovr and chill. Hobi made some bomb tres leches

You: call. Ill come after dinner

“Are you okay, y/n?” your head bounces up to meet Jungkook’s gaze, “you’ve barely eaten and you haven’t talked much.” 

“Oh you know, she’s just stressed about the upcoming spread,” Namjoon steps in for you, and you send him a discrete, but grateful smile. He’s always impeccable at reading the room, “she’s just nervous about her interview with Kim Taeyeon, but I think you did her interview justice.” 

“No way, the singer Kim Taeyeon?” Jungkook gushes, regarding you with stars in his eyes, “your interviews are always so great, y/n. You ask really good questions. Like that one spread about  Lee Yonghwa’s art gallery? Really cool.” 

You notice the way Jisoo presses her lips together, a thin line as if she’s trying to seal away words that she’ll regret saying. She’s jealous, and you can’t help the blush of pride that fills your veins as you raise a secret brow at her. 

“Right, you got nothing to worry about,” Namjoon squeezes your shoulder encouragingly, as if you’d get his double-meaning. 

“Thanks,” you reply, pushing your plate away and standing up, “I’m actually gonna go head to Vernon’s for a bit, though. He wants to double check his work before we email Victoria.” 

It’s a bald-faced lie, Namjoon sent the files to Victoria right before dinner, but he isn’t going to argue. 

“Okay,” Namjoon thanks Jungkook and Jisoo for the meal, stacking his plate atop yours, “I’ll walk out with you.” 

“It’s only been twenty minutes, though,” you see the slight panic in Jungkook’s gaze as he watches you quickly clean up for you and Namjoon. You can’t quite pin why he’s so concerned, after all he has been acting strange as of late. 

“Yeah, I’m full,” you reply curtly, licking your lips and avoiding his gaze. You already know what he wants to say, that he’s been in your apartment all day and all he’s seen you eat is stale chips and tea, “but we can do this again.” But hopefully not. 

“If you’re coming home late again,” it’s the first time Jisoo has spoken to you directly. You tilt your head to her slowly, watching the plastic smile carefully carved onto her expression. You see the contrived care and concern between her brows, “please try to be quieter next time, the last time you came home late you woke Jungkookie up.” 

Snapping your gaze to Jungkook you plaster on a thick smile, “Sorry Jungkook—” 

“What? No, it’s fine!” he furrows his brows in confusion, finally able to detect the strange tension between the two housemates, “I barely heard you—” 

“Maybe I’ll just stay the night at Vernon’s,” your eyes trail over to the pajama set you immediately switched into when you got home today, “wouldn’t want to disturb you two.” 

“Good,” Jisoo’s tone is saccharine and clipped as she tacks on a, “have fun.” 

It’s laudable, how much Jisoo wants to make a fool out of you but you won’t have it. You revel in the perplexed expression as Jungkook’s gaze darts back and forth between the two of you, wanting to butt in but unsure of how to approach it. Not giving him the time to, you bid the couple a goodnight and make a fast getaway. Heck, you don’t even take your work stuff with you. 

Once you’re out the door, Namjoon wordlessly gives you a hug. You sigh gratefully into his embrace. 

The next time Jungkook sees you, he reads the room before anything. You and Jisoo’s apartment is scarily empty, almost clinical. He’s tried texting you a few times after his failed-not-failed attempt at catching up at the mall and his awkward conversation concerning Namjoon, but you always reply back with vague replies and an unpromised promise of meeting up sometime soon. 

It dulls him to think that you’ve given up on him as a friend. But can you blame him? He needs to keep an appropriate distance for Jisoo, after all, she doesn’t like it when he gets too close to other women unless it’s strictly professional. Usually Jisoo’s jealousy inevitably works itself out and Jungkook doesn’t pose any problems because he has very few girl friends, but for some reason your friendship with him specifically gets Jisoo stiff in the face. Is it because you and Jisoo are so close? Possibly. 

But it doesn’t mean you can’t join the same Valorant server with him at 2AM and accidentally bomb each other, or argue over the magnum opus of each film company. Is that not enough? 

Jisoo’s working overtime, and Jungkook suggested last night that he move the boxes to the front of the door for easy pick-up when the moving truck arrives. Jisoo promises to buy Thai food in return, and with a kiss emoji she leaves him to audit fabric budgets. 

As he glides down to Jisoo’s room he notes that the pictures along the wall have disappeared, and there’s double the amount of boxes in the hallway. It seems that you’re moving out too. To where, he doesn’t know but he hopes it isn’t too far. 

He chides Jisoo remotely when he sees that her room is completely intact, and he makes moves to pack up her things. 

That’s when he finds his letter. Not a love letter to Jisoo, but a love letter to you. Deep in the recesses of Jisoo’s junk drawer, is a faded lavender envelope with a pressed cream colored baby’s breath taped up in plastic. The glue is yellow and old, clearly served its purpose due to the fact that the letter is already opened and the contents rumpled. 

Hey Pretty Girl–

He immediately stuffs the letter back in its holder, stricken at his messy handwriting from two years ago. It feels like he found a time capsule, another version of Jungkook confessing to you. He used to call you Pretty Girl, not enough for you to catch on to his feelings, but enough for you to understand that he did find you attractive. It was early on in your friendship. 

When you first asked him to be study partners for some silly class that had nothing to do with each other’s majors, he gaped like a guppy and pointed to himself. That day he went to class in last night’s clothes and a nest of fluffy strands. “Me?” he felt like absolute trash, and you were probably desperate due to the fact you two were the only seniors in this class, “but you’re a pretty girl… and I’m pretty dumb when it comes to this subject.” 

But instead you scoffed and pulled him from his slumped figure, dragging him to the library, with a wink and a “you’re pretty, too.” Those words have burned in his brain since then, as he wasn’t used to getting such off-handed compliments, especially from intelligent girls that wanted more than one night. 

For whatever reason you continued seeing his dumb self, even after the semester ended and together registered for one more class for spring. 

Whenever you’d go out for ice cream you wouldn’t hesitate to stuff your face and add for extra Oreos and fries, you’d assure Jungkook you’re not normally this much of a slob. 

Jungkook would just smile and offer you a napkin and say, “You’re still a pretty girl.” 

He fell for you gracefully. There was no regret, no walk of shame, no cliché late night party where you or him could’ve instigated it into the physical. It was all by feel. 

However the two of you took your time with your relationship, languidly enjoying the hushed conversations in the library at 2AM, the late night McFlurry runs, the integration of each other’s friends like it was natural. Ergo the lavender love letter. It was a gentle declaration, one he felt pretty confident in. 

So color him stupid when you passed him in class with a happy wave, Jungkook dumbfounded at how well you handled his confession. You weren’t oblivious, you just never read it. 

But now he knows the declaration was for whatever reason, lost in transit. “I should’ve known,” he whispers in the air, the letter crumpling in his grip. Composing himself, he pinches his brows.  

There’s an electronic buzz and a sharp slam of the front door. Judging by the time, you’re home. 

You flop onto your mattress, folding an arm over your head to stop the sun from seeping to your eyes. Vernon’s exhausted you, and you barely got away before he could have any say in it. You need a little space, and some time to think. 

Just as you close the door to your bedroom, it swings open. 

You gape as Jungkook thrusts himself into your bedroom like a deer with horns, looking pale. You follow his gaze, darkened eyes that linger a little too long on your neck again, and you narrow your eyes at him to avert. He looks a little red in the cheeks despite his pallidness, looking like he just got out of bed with messy wavy locks and his signature sweats. Is Jungkook packing for Jisoo again? 

Acutely aware that you smell like sweat and sex, you clutch the blankets closer to your body. “Uh, rude.” 

He looks uncharastically frantic, waving a letter in his hand, “Did you ever read this?” 

“Read what?” you ask, hands reaching out for the envelope. 

“My confession letter,” he blurts, having no shame now that all the gears are running through his head. “I wrote you a letter asking you out, because you said you wanted to collect notes like in Letters to Juliet. But I just found it in Jisoo’s drawer, why would it be there?” 

And all the pent up frustration that never seemed to escape under Vernon’s sheets, the feelings that never seem to subside, all bubble back to the surface. Now that Jungkook knows, there’s no hiding. 

You’re in shock, hands reaching for the letter despite the burn that seeps through your fingertips. Jungkook’s shoulders slump when you do indeed look like it’s your first time seeing this, as if a missing puzzle piece in your timeline has finally been revealed.

“I, I didn’t think you’d write me a letter,” you take the lavender envelope, clutching the letter by your chest like it’s something precious, “that’s so sweet,” you say to yourself.  

It dawns on him, “Wait, you knew about this? I knew something weird was going on.” 

“Only recently,” you frown. 

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” he nearly shouts, causing you to flinch, “no wonder why you were being so weird all this time. How could you let me live the rest of my life knowing this? That my relationship is built on a lie? ” 

“I don’t know,” you suddenly feel very small in your mattress as Jungkook rounds up on you, pulling your desk chair closer to your bed, “because you love Jisoo, of course.” 

“Well obviously that’s not possible,” and while yes a two-year realtionship ending like this is going to hit him hard tonight, he’s focused on you and the fact that you failed to tell him, “somehow I’d find out. Why wait for me to find out on my own?” 

“Because I wanted to protect you!” 

“Protect me,” he scoffs, crossing his arms and sneering at you. It causes you to tense up, feeling the telltale signs of tears bubbling to the surface, “you don’t even want to be friends anymore, y/n. I’ve tried to catch up to you so many times, but you keep leaving me hanging. I know I’ve been a pretty bad friend and I get it if you just feel awkward that I liked you, then that’s a shitty reason.” 

“Have you ever considered that it’s too late to tell you?” you shoot back, sitting up straight, “yes, I admit I should’ve told you earlier and I’m sorry, but it was a lot for me to process to y’know? Jisoo and I haven’t talked properly in weeks!” 

“Oh, so you’ve stopped trying to be friends with Jisoo too, huh? Just like you’re trying to stop being friends with me.” 

“No,” you pinch your brows, “she stopped being friends with me! She doesn’t care about me because she has you,” conflict burns in Jungkook’s gaze, and you only serve to fuel the fire, “she’s tried so hard to not involve me in your relationship.” 

“Just tell me why you’ve really kept this secret instead of saying you want to protect me like a baby—” 

“It’s because I’m in love with you, idiot!” 

You blink and back up against the wall of your bedroom, as if you can’t believe that the words came out of your mouth. 

It’s quiet again. The sour look evaporates from Jungkook’s face as he watches you suppress your sobs on your mattress. The room seems devoid, sucked out of its color as you’ve cleaned up most of your things, the only thing left being some plain grey sheets and a pillow. 

Jungkook’s mind is absolutely reeling, playing back memories from a different point of view. 

“When Jisoo told me she sabotaged our relationship so she could date you, I was so upset and didn’t know what to think,” you manage to place the lavender note on your wooden desk, making sure no tears could mar it. “And I thought I could move on and eventually stay friends with the both of you, but the next day Jisoo put all her attention on you and completely ignored me or any attempt to salvage our friendship. She only told me to forgive herself,” you’re hugging yourself, wrapping the blankets around you like a weak embrace, “so I thought if I cut myself out of the picture and forced myself to move on like I should’ve, everything would’ve been okay.” 

“So, you would’ve rather kept all this pain to yourself?” 

“Yeah,” you give him a teary smile, “because I wanted you to be happy.” 

And with an equally sad smile he murmurs, “But I’m not happy.” 

 Your face falls, and you really look at Jungkook. He’s exhausted as well, slumped in his chair. Has he been trying to grapple along the threads of his relationships, while you’ve been trying to loosen them? 

“What a waste of two years,” he slumps in your chair, letting the pieces click into place, “a relationship built on fake love. I was really trying, y’know. I thought I was going crazy.” 

The three of you have unknowingly been playing a futile game of Cat’s Cradle, a game that no one wins. 

Jungkook looks wistfully out the window, noting the pleasant day that fails to present itself in your tiny room. It feels simultaneously satisfying and bitter when it falls into place, your thoughts finally fitting together for the first time in months. “We could’ve loved each other. For real,” he says, and you silently agree. 

You’re still crying, shaking like a leaf in autumn. Jungkook’s arms hover awkwardly over yours, his warmth palpable despite the fact that he hasn’t touched you yet. With a timid smile you allow consent, and you melt like putty in his arms. 

“Kookie, ‘m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you murmur into his shoulder, not caring if it hurts when you press your chin into his skin. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” 

It’s been so long to have him close like this, the friend you’ve always wanted but never needed. Since college you’ve always imagined a life without him doing just fine, but that doesn’t mean you want to live without him, roommate’s boyfriend or not. 

“I’m sorry too,” he sighs back, “this sucks right now, but we’ll be alright.” 

The two of you sit in your room until it turns dark and the sky muddles into shades of twilight and egg yolk orange. There’s lulls in the conversation, the two of you filling in the gaps and making sense of the mumbo-jumbo that’s been going on in your consciousness up until this point. Your insantities turn sane, and by the time Jisoo’s making her way back inside with the smell of pad thai, Jungkook is ready. With a squeeze to each other and a press of your lips because you don’t know what to say, you tuck yourself in and pretend to fall asleep. 

“Messy, messy, messy,” Vernon sing-songs, knocking his heels against the wall. 

The both of you are sitting upside-down, butts attached to the wall connecting to his mattress and your feet hanging in the air. Your mint floral organza socks pad against his Pink Floyd poster, while his yellow tube socks are heeling against some old Polaroids from college. There’s no prospect of sex today, not when shit just hit the fan. 

Today you and Vernon are just two old friends and very close co-workers. 

“Tell me about it,” you bemoan, frowning at the beige wall, “this whole week’s just been a whole mess. It’s like, warm tuna salad.”

“Gross,” Vernon grimaces at the apt comparison, “so what happens now?” 

You sit up on your elbows, looking down at Vernon’s peaceful expression, “What do you mean?” 

“Like, are you gonna get together with him?”

You snort, flopping back down on his bed. The blankets fluff around you and you inhale the pine scented sheets. “After all that? No.” 

“But you still love him?” 

It must sound dumb to still love him after all this time. You wouldn’t be surprised if Vernon thought you’re silly to still hold a place in your heart for someone who has fifteen million things on their plate now. After all the physicality and the space Vernon gave you in his home, your feelings haven’t wavered. 

Your companion doesn’t bother waiting for your answer, hearing your answer somewhere in the air as he gets up and throws on his denim jacket. Rolling over your stomach you ask, “Where are you going?” 

“Some friends down in printing want to meet up for drinks,” Vernon messes up his hair, making the waves part in that little coiff that makes his jawline look sharp. “I heard Yerin really wanted me to come, so.” 

You can’t help the little middle school coo that comes from your lips, causing Vernon to giggle and throw a pillow at you. “Yerin’s cute!” you declare, remembering the petite girl in overalls who’s all about pops of yellow and violet, “you're into her?” 

“Nah,” Vernon holds up two hats in his hands, gesturing for you to pick one. “Just figured it was a push in the right direction.” 

Crawling out of his bed you stumble in your oversized t-shirt, tucking a finger under your chin as you decide between the emerald bucket hat and the red Ralph Lauren baseball cap. You pull out both hats from his hands and set it down on his vanity, opting to smooth out the flyaways and ringing your fingers through his soft curls. “And what direction would my free-flowing friend be going today?” you ask aloud, “you look better with your hair out,” you declare firmly, “makes you look like a fluffy CEO.” 

He laughs at your silly comparison, and he gently moves your hand away from his hair when you linger a little too close to him. His gaze is solemn as he regards you with a gentle smile, “Keep your distance, I’m tryna get over someone,” he says simply, and your arm falls limp at your sides. 

Your heart thuds in a different direction, your mouth parting but no words coming to the surface. When was the last time you asked about Vernon’s needs, wondered if he was doing alright, making sure you two were on the same page—

“You’re spiraling,” he reads you like a playbook, smoothing down your hair to press a kiss to the crown. Suddenly you feel guilty for not having sparks in your belly, shaming your conscience for not even considering his sacrifices in your self-absorption these past few weeks. “Like I said, I wanted to help you. Stop looking like a kicked puppy, it’s okay to be selfish.” 

With transparent tears the two of you pack up and head to your next destination. Hands ghosting between each other you make your way to the exit of Vernon’s apartment, him to meet up with his friends while you have to unpack your new apartment. With a hug you tell each other you’ll see them on Monday, and as easy as that you go your separate ways.

Hey Pretty Girl—

I kinda wanted to tell you this in person but I know how much you liked Mamma Mia and all those other movies that have grand gestures in writing so I thought hey, might as well shoot my shot on paper. 

Not gonna tell you all the details, because you deserve to hear it in-person. But mayhaps this letter has something to do with how much I like studying with you, watching movies with you, doing absolutely nothing with you and all of that in-between. 

There’s a gift card to our spot attached. Meet me at McDonalds @12 tonight, so I know it’s real 😎

Hopefully yours, Jungkook

P.S. if you haven’t noticed already, I sprayed a little cologne and stole Taehyung’s fancy paper from Muji. That’s how serious I am about you. 

“Joon, we live in a bonsai garden. We’re like giants in a forest.” 

“Can you—can you stop spitting at them? Let them breathe, dammit.” 

“Not my fault they’re so tiny! I literally have to zoom 200% just to get a good look at ‘em.” 

The two of you are huddled in what used to be Namjoon’s balcony, now a sunroom for his succulents and bonsais. Your heart feels pink and swollen with affection as you regard Namjoon with interest, absorbing every bit of information you can as he teaches you how to care for his plants. After all, you’re co-parenting now. 

Having your Wusband co-sign as your roommate for the next year is probably the best decision you have made this year. Everyday is like a breath of fresh air. With Seokjin gone for the year to tour his restaurant franchises, his room is yours for the taking. The two of you are easy going roommates, filling the apartment with color and vigour whether it be in the form of baking sweets or watching Netflix documentaries. 

The only drama you ever have is when you two are having a meltdown over the same work-related issue, as if you two somehow share the same brain cell. It’s significantly less stressful, no need for unnecessary anger when  you have someone as mediating as Namjoon.

After today’s plant lesson, you two go back to the living room to finish up your work for the evening. Another perk of living together is that you can go home at normal work times and continue where you left off with the comfort of your couch and eating a whole pizza pie with no shame. 

Namjoon’s phone pings with a new email from corporate. “We got the new concept for next month’s spread,” he gestures to you with a grandiose wave of his arm, “drumroll please.” 

He pulls up the newsletter from corporate with a flick of his thumb. Your company put out every month’s concept out in an Evite, like every month was a themed party. A stressful, month long work party. In seconds, the page loaded and you’re met with next month’s title bathed in electronic glitter. 

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth

The two of you say silent, absorbing the concept like a cookie to milk. It’s a personal spread this month, a real treat for the team to show off their normal non-professional life. A spread that reveals the masters behind the ink and text. Last year’s personal spread was about the staff’s vacation destinations, but this year’s is much more intimate. You can imagine all the ideas that will be thrown around on Monday’s meeting: pinning down shared ideas like Throwback Thursdays, late night munchie runs, drunk stories, and all the crazy college nostalgia that you’ve been trying to avoid as of late. 

But now it’s presented to you in a gold chalice, and while you’re sick of the past you think it’s about time to face it. You’re excited to tackle the dark monster you’ve suppressed since Jungkook and Jisoo’s breakup. 

“Did I ever tell you I was president of my university’s Mock Trial?” 

“No, I always thought you’d be president of the Comparative Literature Club or whatever. But Mock Trial is equally as nerdy.” 

“I’ll have you know Mock Trial got me tons of action,” he winked, “made me very convincing.” 

“Gross,” you sneer, “so that’s what your spread will be about? How the co-editor of the Arts & Entertainment section managed to bag with his skills from Mock Trial?” 

“Nah, I went on a penniless journey with Jin during spring break. Six days around Malta.” 

“That does sound so you,” you sigh, fingers slipping between the cracked screen as you mull over the overly happy Evite, “sounds like a cool story.” 

“I know that look,” Namjoon quips, snatching his phone under his nose, “don’t overthink your spread just yet, it’s still the weekend. Now to more important things, what do you want from Taco Bell?”

And because you can’t refuse the combined efforts of nachos and Namjoon’s dimples, you relent for the night and tack the unmade idea to the next workday. 

Unfortunately the next workday is just as disheartening. Today’s work meeting is the antithesis of icing on the cake. While your college life isn’t anything remarkable, you didn’t think it was a painfully dull time. With every passing moment and every excited co-worker throwing memories back and forth like ping pong balls, the more you felt inferior by competing with their amazing memories. 

“Who can even afford Aruba at twenty-one,” you mutter under your breath, stalking back to your cubicle. 

Filling up a whole spread is daunting to you, the thought of Victoria popping her head in your cubicle to ask what you’ve got for the day is practically eating you from the inside out. Maybe your college life was in actuality, super boring? You have no crazy drug trips to tell, any vacations that gave you a life-changing perspective, or an epic love story. 

“What’cha got there, partner?” 

The third musketeer of your editing team’s caramel eyes peer into your cubicle, causing you to jump in your chair. Vernon wheels around, chair and all to push you into your already cramped space. His gold button up gleams in the sunlight, effectively blinding you. 

“If by something you mean nothing, then yeah I got nothing,” you frown, spinning around your chair. “What are you writing about?” 

A fond smile melts onto your friend’s face, and you can’t help returning a smile that mirrors his own. You two have fallen back into a good place, as far as you know. He’s still easy, simple, sweet Vernon. When you dropped some boxes off in coloring, you heard that Vernon and Yerin have recently started seeing each other. 

“Thought of the idea as soon as the Evite came out. It’s more of a photo spread, but I’m gonna write about my study abroad in NYU,” Vernon ticks a pencil on his forehead, “a self-identity piece talking about how I felt like, not-white around my family n’stuff. And then felt not-Asian at the same time, s’complicated but I think I can make it work.” 

“Deep,” you pat his shoulder caringly, knowing that Big Hit is a good outlet for these kinds of subjects, “alright City Slicker, since you’re so full of ideas then tell me what to write about.” 

Vernon sits up straight, regarding you with narrowed eyes, “Aren’t you gonna write about your little love triangle with Jisoo and Jungkook?” and it seems like he’s already storyboarded the idea in his head, gesturing to the air as if he’s writing down a timeline, “I can see the headline now: How to Steal a Heart,” he’s grinning, nodding fervently as you cross your arms in distaste. 

“Vern, are you suggesting that I exploit Jisoo and Jungkook’s personal lives?” while the journalism business didn’t pride itself on sincerity, it did feel wrong to drag in your personal life to that extent. 

“Babe, you don’t understand. You have the perfect slice of life story. Everyone’s writing about expensive vacations and that one time they got cross-faded and ended up in Busan,” he squeezes your hand, “but your story, it’s relatable. It’s romantic. It’s angsty. It has closure. No one’s gonna be able to relate to an impulse spending on daddy’s money to Aruba. But first loves? Unrequited romance and all that ish? Everyone can speak to that. And you’re a beautiful writer, they’ll eat up that story like honey.” 

“I don’t know, it still doesn’t feel right.” 

“Change up the names, twist the story,” he offers easily, knowing you’d put up a fight, “besides, it’s not like you’re planning on talking to Jisoo or Jungkook ever again,” you open your mouth to retort, but Vernon’s phone beeps to the Star Wars theme song and he’s flying out of his chair. “Shoot, gotta go help Joon upstairs. Just think about it, okay? Good luck!” and he’s kicking his chair out with a brown loafer, leaving you with breathing room in your cubicle. 

Five seconds later Vernon is jogging back, pointing a finger at you, “And if you do choose to write it, you have to add that Jisoo copped your McDonalds gift card. Like, who does that shit? Couldn’t she have just given it to you and say it was from her and not Jungkook? Seriously fucked up.” 

For the next ten or so minutes you mull. Out of all the memorable college events you’ve participated in, the largest one by far is your (now defunct and debatable) friendship with Jisoo, and your (un)requited love for Jungkook. Reluctantly, you must admit Vernon has a sharp idea, busting in like a hero and offering you the most writable piece on a silver platter. 

It doesn’t feel morally right just to start writing, because ultimately you can’t feel comfortable until you get the consent of Jungkook. While you don’t want to touch Jisoo with a ten-meter pole, you do want to start talking to Jungkook again now that the waters have calmed.

Your life has moved gracefully up until this point, and you’d like to start being friends with him again. Decision made, you pull out your phone and make an important call.

“Hey Yoongi,” you say nervously. Min Yoongi is Kim Namjoon’s equivalent, Jungkook’s Wusband and former upperclassmen in college. 

Said man hums noncommittally on the other line, “Whaddya want, it’s been awhile.” 

You stifle a giggle at his apathetic attitude, knowing he’s someone who wastes no time in getting straight to the point. “I just wanna make sure Jungkook’s address is still the same? I know it’s been a couple months, but I need to send him something and I wanna make sure it gets to him ASAP because—”

“Because last time something was sent, your crazy roommate intervened and Jungkook ended up in a two-year half-toxic relationship? Yeah, let’s make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“Yoongi,” you say slowly, “where are you?” 

“Working in the studio,” he tuts, “Jungkook says hi, by the way.” 

Typical, cat’s out of the bag. With a roll of our eyes you reply, “Thanks for outing me, Yoongi. Talk to you later.” 

“And y/n? Jungkook says he’s waiting.” 

With a stupid smile slapped onto your face, you hang up the phone and pull out your stationary kit from under your desk. You pluck out a vermillion red envelope, a color so bold and begging to be seen, you know it can’t possibly get lost in transit. Feeling a little bit like a high schooler as you pull out a glitter jelly pen, you get to writing. 

Hey Pretty Boy...

Jungkook and Jisoo are no longer together, evidently. 

Their social media runs in different directions, with Jisoo sporting absolute elegance in her work at her family-owned boutique. Her posts are full of shiny outfits and soulless gazes, betraying any pinch of emotion she may have felt over these past few months. Her profile is wiped of any personal posts, all traces of you and Jungkook evaporated from her page. You must admit that she looks good, like a real fashion mogul, but only at the surface level. 

Conversely, Jungkook is thriving. It’s evident. Normally he isn’t the type of guy to post so frequently, his habits being often sporadic and limited to sweaty gym stories. But whenever you scroll, it’s pictures of him smiling. Big bunny teeth broken into a genuine, full-bellied laugh. Cute selfies of him and his co-workers. You notice two familiar co-workers in those posts, Irene and Seulgi, two beautiful women Jisoo always felt intimidated by whenever she ranted to you. You conclude positively that Jungkook doesn’t feel tethered and can hang out with all the friends he wants, female and male alike. Jungkook looks free, and you’re happy for him. 

It’s another Instagram-worthy moment tonight at McDonalds, where you and Jungkook proposed to meet each other at 12AM. 

This time, the letter makes it to its desired destination. You make sure of that because this time you hand-deliver it, slipping under his apartment door knowing he lives alone and no one would be able to access it except him. 

You’re parked in an obscure corner, but you can see that Jungkook is currently having a great time with his co-workers for an after work meal. Yoongi is unbothered on his phone, while Jimin and Seulgi are taking turns throwing fries into each other’s mouth. Jungkook is squished between them, scrunching his nose cutely as he tries not to get in the fray of their fry-war. 

Your phone pings, and you laugh at what pops up on the screen.

Yoongi: come inside, u loser. 

You: can’t ur friend group makes me nervous stop being so dang cute

You: dw i’ll wait, it’s only 11:50

Instead of replying, Yoongi puts his phone down and resumes eating. In turn you pick a playlist, deciding that “summer time high mix✨✨✨” is a theme you need to subscribe to for the rest of the weekend. 

Busying yourself by sending some texts to Namjoon and checking some emails, you relax in your seat as you let your brain turn to sludge for the weekend. You’re tired, eyes glazing over as you watch Yoongi elbow Jungkook harshly, forcing him to look out the foggy window. 

Jungkook’s eyes light up like it’s Christmas Eve, but instead of Christmas lights it's your car’s lowlights. The graphic designer  pays no mind to his friends as they wish him goodbye and goodluck, throwing on his jacket with a wave. 

The night air whizzes by, Jungkook’s floppy black strands bouncing with each step as he bounds to your car. He throws your door open, bringing in the cold air as he regards you as easily as an old friend would. 

“Hi,” he chirps, placing his tattooed palms by the air vent, “c’mon, let’s order.” 

“You know, you could’ve ordered inside and brought it in here.” 

“Yeah but then it would take longer to get to you,” the cheeky grin that Jungkook throws at you is unmistakable, “c’mon, get out the car and let’s switch.” 

“Huh?” 

“You look tired, you didn’t come back from the office again, did you?” 

“I did tonight,” you say, “I just really wanted to get the soft copy of the article done and—” 

“Out, out!” Jungkook clicks your seatbelt off and he’s coming out of the passenger side, opening your car and pulling you out by the hand, “c’mon, I’ll drive.” 

You shake your head, hiding your smile in your hand as you let Jungkook do what he wants. Normally you’d be insulted that anyone suggests they should drive your car but Jungkook would always drive you around, saying he loved long rides. Above all, if you could trust anyone to drive your car, Jungkook is at the top of the list. 

Buckling in, you bite the inside of your cheek as Jungkook easily pulls out of the parking spot one-handed. His jacket is pulled up to his elbows, exposing his veins as he expertly whirls the wheel in the direction of the drive-thru. Since college he’s always looked very attractive driving.  

Doesn’t mean you have to act like you’re still in college. You tamp those feelings down, knowing that your article probably has you feeling stuck in time. 

“—coming along?” 

“Wha?” 

“I said, how’s the spread coming along?” 

“It’s pretty much done, I think. I’ll send you the hard copy when it’s ready,” you tap your fingers against the dashboard, “but are you sure you’re okay with me writing it? I know I’m using a pseudonym and everything for you two but I still feel weird—” 

“It’s fine, I think it’s a good thing,” and you still squirm in your seat when he flashes you a genuine smile, “I mean, it kinda is a funny story and I think it’s good for both of us. Like closure, y’know? Moving on and—hi, can I get two Oreo McFlurrys and a large fry? Thanks!” he pulls out his wallet to scan the total on the e-reader.  “I mean, didn’t it feel good writing it?”

“Yeah,” you replied honestly, relaxing in your seat, “like, college was fun and all, but when Jisoo kinda ruined all that… after awhile I didn’t think it was ruined after all, y’know? I still made amazing friends and ended up where I wanted to be. I want to show the readers that shit happens, and that’s okay. And if things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.” 

The summer playlist hums in the background as Jungkook pulls up to the pick-up window. He thanks the worker and hands you the tray, and you make quick work to put the fries in the first cup holder for optimal sharing. He doesn’t park at McDonalds, but instead smoothly pulls out of the restaurant into the direction of his apartment. It isn’t a particularly long drive, but you figure it would be easier for Jungkook to go home first if you’re already parked at his complex. 

“What do you mean by that?” Jungkook parks in the driveway of his apartment, taking his McFlurry from your hands. 

“Mean by what?” 

“If things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.” 

“Well, we’re here now, right?” 

Jungkook pops his spoon in, swallowing vanilla and a silly smile through his coral pink lips, “We’re here now,” he repeats. 

The night air is cool and your conversation is warm. You promise Jungkook that you’ll send him the final copy of your spread as soon as it’s done, and you two eagerly deviate away from the past and focus on the present. 

You can’t help the eagerness that flows between you, as if you’ve never spent time apart like this and it’s only now that you’re reuniting. It must be absence that makes the heart grow fonder, because you swell with affection and you find Jungkook’s presence sweeter than any kind of ice cream. 

Are you dating now? Maybe. You and Jungkook are going on dates, everything without the title. McFlurry runs, marathons of HGTV’s Design on a Dime, having lunch at each other’s respective buildings with the Wusbands. Whether these dates are exclusive or not is unknown, but you figure the question will present yourself one way or another. 

You’re in a good place right now, potential relationship or not. After all, your priorities are simultaneously positive and in order: family, work, friends, and any potential romantic trysts are at the very bottom. You could kiss the cover of this month’s issue (and trust, you have kissed your own copy multiple times) if it is not for the fact that this specific issue is for Jungkook. 

So, romantic trysts and friends have a tendency to flip-flop on your priority list, but only because it’s Jungkook. 

Unsurprisingly, there’s no guilt knowing that you’re dating your former best friend's ex-boyfriend. 

After a much deserved early work day, Namjoon and the crew arrange a hearty happy-hour filled with good food and enough relaxation to last the weekend. With your combined successes, your team felt like they made the best issue yet. At the heart of it, The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth became a reckoning of each other’s young life. Despite the love and the growth that occurred from your college years up until this point, you’re glad to close that chapter and move forward. 

You did not tell Jungkook when the issue would come out, so you think it’ll be a fun surprise for him when he sees it magically show up at his apartment. Bending down you move to slip the issue under his door, one hand pushing it under while one hand braces against the frame to steady your balance. 

Just as the shiny cover glides under the door it swings open, and you fall flat on Jungkook’s feet. 

Being the little shit he is, he simply giggles at the blunder, looking at you with excited eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he says. 

“Creepy as hell, Jeon,” you mutter under your breath, brushing the dirt off your aqua pencil skirt. Looking at him from your spot on the floor and his large height, you grimace. “You look like a middle-aged serial killer looking outside your peephole.” 

“Now, we know that’s not true.” he finally offers his hand, easily pulling you up to your feet. You follow him into his kitchen, where he’s cutting up fresh fruit. He throws your issue on the counter, gentle enough so it doesn’t slide off the granite. He gestures to himself with both hands, “me, a dashingly handsome late twenty-something in Nike sweats who can bench-press two of you? Totally not a middle-aged serial killer.” 

“It’s in the eyes,” you chastise, “you look crazy.” 

“Maybe I’m just crazy excited to see you,” he says with a cheeky grin. 

You try your best not to choke on your spit at the cheeseball comment, throwing a blackberry in your mouth. Savoring the burst of tart flavor that fills your mouth, you wait for Jungkook to plate the fruit before meeting him on the couch. He’s holding a prettily arranged plate of berries, bananas, and mango with a huge dollop of whipped cream in the middle. In his other hand is Big Hit’s magazine. 

Throwing your blazer on the couch’s arm you don’t hesitate to cuddle up next to him, eagerly waiting for him to read your spread. 

The cover gazes back at the two of you like a reflection. The entirety of the staff is posed on the cover, made to look like a class photo. Some of you are holding balloons in your respective school colors, many of you grouping up with whoever happened to go to college together. You and Vernon are wearing matching university sweaters with silly grins on your faces. In the middle of the issue is the editor-in-chief, Victoria Song holding a placard that reads: Class of Youth. 

Jungkook spares you a glance from the corner of his eye, your head naturally tucked into his shoulder. With an exaggerated sigh, he fiddles through the glossy pages, “Hmm, which one should I read first?” 

“Of course you’ll read mine first,” you pout. 

“Ah, Namjoon’s looks really fun. Or Vernon’s? New York looks pretty cool,” he flips to a random page, “wait, Yerin’s spread is a Korean cookbook! I definitely want to make some tuna rice...”  

“Jungkook,” you whine, “read mine.” 

“I don’t know,” he taps his finger on his lip, “I mean, I pretty much know your spread because I’m already in it. It would be kind of redundant to read it.” 

“Kook, you’re being mean,” you glower, rubbing your cheek against his soft sweater. He’s just so damn comfy. 

“I’m kidding,” he tugs at your cheek, “where’s the table of contents, first page?”

“I’m on page eighty-three.” 

You speed up the process like an impatient child, leaning over to brush the pages to the desired spread. You even dog-earred it, a habit that drives Jungkook crazy as he immediately fiddles to iron out the crease. 

“Are you gonna read it to me too, mom?” he teases. 

“Okay fine! I’ll be quiet, but don’t take too long.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Eyes fluttering, you let Jungkook take his time to absorb your piece. A roommate by any other (rude) name: the lost letter. A cheesy, gimmicky title that Victoria insisted upon that you had no choice but relent to. The rest of the spread thankfully has a very authentic edge to it, your story laced with photos of you and Jungkook, your internship with Vernon, and most importantly, a scan of the lavender letter that got left in the past. 

Jungkook’s not silent through his read-through, either. He laughs at all the right parts, fueling your ego as his smile grows at your favorite lines. While he doesn’t directly engage in conversation, his positive energy is enough for you to make you feel like you’ve done your job right. It’s one thing to write about unknown celebrities and unnamed artists, but for people like Jungkook, the validation is personal. 

“It’s beautiful,” Jungkook says when he’s read it thrice through, running his thumb over a picture of you. “Really organic. Really, real.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he chuckles, having run out of adverbs. “It’s funny, too. I liked your little internal monologue. I wish I knew how you felt back then.” 

“I wish you did, too.” 

You’re quietly munching on a strawberry, looking over a polaroid Jungkook took. It was  sometime in the beginning of senior year, where you’ve fallen asleep on his mattress, drool drying on your mouth. Normally you’d be opposed to having such unflattering, grainy pictures amongst your writing, but it encapsulates the youth you’ve tried so hard to chase away. 

“How do you feel?” Jungkook says, switching out the magazine for the plate of fruit, placing it on his side. 

“Feel great, actually,” you muse, smiling to yourself. By no means are you a hero writing some grand gesture in an entertainment magazine, but you feel like you’ve saved yourself. You’ve savored your youth in four thousand words, cutting out the poison and keeping the moment as sweet as it can be. 

“I’m proud of you,” he reaches to ruffle your hair, and you don’t even get mad when it tousles out of your pinned style. 

Reveling in the attention, you simply close your eyes and feed yourself a handful of blueberries. 

“Love that I make money, but I definitely miss college from time to time,” Jungkook stretches, jostling you out of your comfortable position. “Like I remember Taehyung and I would take turns bringing backpacks to the dining hall so we could stuff fruit in it for later.”

“Yeah, but as much as I loved college I wouldn’t go back,” you nod to yourself, “I’m happy where I am now.” 

“What about when we stayed up for midnight breakfast? The dining hall was filled to the brim with food. Remember when I tried to eat a whole stack of pancakes?” 

“Jungkook…” 

“Or when our classes got cancelled and we went to Lotte World? You ate way too much funnel cake and I had to carry you to the car!” 

“Jungkook—” 

“And that one time we snuck out to the music hall’s rooftop?” words gush out of Jungkook’s mouth like a waterfall, unable to relent, “that’s when I realized I liked you. I liked you so much, I tried to tell you that night but choked—”

“Jungkook!” and he immediately zips up, frowning. You straighten up, on your knees as you reach over to run your hands through his onyx tresses, moving the styled strands to the back of his pierced ears, “Jungkook,” you repeat softly, “I’ve heard all these stories, I was there for most of them. As much as I love the past… can we talk about something else?” you give him a small, tentative smile to show him you’re not mad, but a little uncomfortable at his reminiscing. 

He leans into your touch, pressing your palm against the soft swell of his warm cheek. “Okay,” he agrees, resting one hand on your thigh. 

You’re roped in his gaze, and you have to force yourself to breathe when Jungkook moves closer to you. He hooks a leg behind his back, and another across his lap. A cool breeze kisses your inner thighs when your skirt exposes your cotton underwear. You should be embarrassed but instead you’re fixated, unable to understand what he’s trying to accomplish. 

“Then I’m gonna talk about the future,” Jungkook traps you between the couch, his thumb running hot circles to where your skirt has hiked up. It exposes a slip of the thigh that Jungkook has seen a million times. He’s seen you walking around your apartment in a large shirt, ridden up to your boyshorts. It’s different now, you feel exposed and tingly, thrumming with excitement. “I like you, obviously anticipated news and old news. I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to go on dates with you, re-watch Avatar, grumble when I force you to come to the gym with me,” he bumps noses with you when you scrunch yours, “I wanna be with you. Heck, I’ve even cleared space in my spare room so you’d have closet space for all your fancy designer suits if you ever need it.”

“You cleared space?” you manage to choke out. Visions of a shared apartment roll through your brain. Cooking meals together, having two toothbrushes side by side, and waking up to his face. 

“Of course I did. Do you know how financially attractive you are?” he says lightheartedly, “you’re a sexy working woman and it’s crazy to imagine you’d want to settle for me and my little apartment. But I have to try now because if I don’t, it’ll be too late.” 

“That’s not true,” you retort, “you’re not someone I’d settle for. I want you, and no one else.” 

He chuckles, running a thumb over your cheek. “Then what are we waiting for? Your key’s hiding under the mat.” 

“Jungkook…” on the tip of your tongue lays the words you’re going too fast but it doesn’t make its way to the air. 

“But do you really think it’s too fast?” he reads your face clearly, “these feelings never went anywhere. They were locked away, sure. And I loved her,” he can’t even say the name, not when you’re warm and flush against him, “but I loved our friendship more.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you breathe, letting the cogs in your brain roll until sparks develop. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he concedes, “I just wanted to let you know. Could’ve done the letter thing all over again and let the past repeat itself. I know Namjoon wouldn’t hide a love letter for two years, but if I left another damn letter he’d definitely make a copy and tease me about it.” 

You snort, pressing your forehead to his. You’re practically buried in the couch now, tingly and vibrating with happiness. “And I’m not going to leave you hanging. I do want to say something,” and he looks at you expectantly, licking the leftover berry juice on his lips, nearly making you miss your train of thought, “I like you too,” you say, the other L-word is also applicable, but you feel like that phrase is reserved for another time, “I want to show you off on work vacations, bring you along as my date and show them you’re my muse,” you confess, “I wanna play video games with you ‘till 2AM, and eat ice cream in the comfort of our apartment instead of our cars because we’re too stubborn to admit we don’t wanna go home without each other.” 

Jungkook absolutely preens at the affection, sending you a heart melting smile that has your stomach doing backflips.

“Jungkook, I want to fall in love with you again.” 

Your squeal of surprise is swallowed by Jungkook’s lips, tasting of mangoes and berries as strong hands cup your backside, easily lifting you onto his lap. You plop under his strong thighs, feeling them flex against yours. The both of you are pouring in this kiss, raining with promises and hopes for a future with each other. His taste is concentrated, and you can feel the devotion practically injected in his embrace. 

When he pulls away his lips are cherry-red and shiny, looking up at you through clear coffee eyes. “This isn’t a dream, right?” he looks at you up and down, unable to decipher fact from fiction, “because I distinctly remember two wet dreams that involve you looking like this.” 

Looking down, you heat at the disarray you’re in. Hair wild and parted in different wavelengths, tired of the day’s efforts. Your slightly sheer dress-shirt is rumpled, the lace collar opened with two popped buttons revealing your cleavage, and your skirt is stretched so tight that it’s ruched all the way up your thighs. Sprawled across Jungkook’s lap, you’re dangerously close to something long and hard. 

Emboldened, you clutch at Jungkook’s collar, pulling him closer. 

“Show me what happens in your dream,” you whisper into his ear, barely brushing your clothed core against his crotch, “maybe we can make it come true tonight.” 

You can’t see his face, but you feel something dark and sensual overtake him. The grip on your ass tightens, a delicious pain that has you pressing your breasts against him and nipping on his ear, your tongue darting sensually through the cold silver hoops that dart through his skin. 

Within seconds, he rips you away from his neck and demands, “Open.” 

Dazed, you barely get a centimeter of your mouth open when Jungkook presses something cold and sugary against your lips. Whipped cream. You manage to take a small bite of the tart strawberry that he holds by the viridian stem, rolling the flavor between your mouth as Jungkook paints the leftover whipped cream over your lips. Once he’s satisfied he then creates a white trail that leads to your cleavage. 

Better than any dream, his eyes drink you in like the last glass of water in a desert. Your lips are swollen and parted like a baby kitten, covered in the creamy confection. “So pretty,” he exhales, his hot tongue licking from your cleavage to your lips, swallowing the flavor of you and strawberry juice, “such a pretty girl you are, and all mine.” 

“Yours,” you submit easily, rolling your hips against his. 

At that moment you think you’re meant to fall in love this way. You can’t imagine the shy, fumbly Jungkook and your equally confused self waltzing around a relationship when you barely had your lives together. The two of you still had growing to do. The wait is certainly worth it, because as you feel his arms tighten around you, you’re sure this love will stay strong.

It’s difficult for you to find a rhythm at first, what with Jungkook’s strength and need to be satiated, both of you are sloppy but the friction is nothing less than delicious. Your finger reaches over to swipe at the leftover cream on the plate, and you press your finger to Jungkook’s mouth, and he immediately complies. A dollop of sweet cream leaks out of his lips and your panties dampen further when you feel his tongue lick you clean, imagaining how good it would feel if it was your pussy he was licking. 

Your mouth waters at the feeling of his dick lining up against your core, as sticky as the strawberry juice that clings to your bodies. 

“C-can I make a confession? I—oh, Jungkook…” your mind is all fuzzed up when he snaps his hips against yours, causing you to shamelessly bounce on his length. 

“Yeah?” 

“I… I like it when you use all your strength like that,” his hips slow as your words sink in, but you don’t mind as it gives you time to make a long drag along the entirety of his member. “Everytime you pull me up when I trip, or you come back from a workout, I like it when you carry me around like I weigh nothing.” 

“Do—do you think about it a lot?” he grunts, and you stifle a moan when he does a slow, hard drag against your wet folds. “Tell the truth.” 

“It’s, it’s embarrassing,” you whimper, unable to think straight with the amount of stimuli you’re receiving.  

“Please, baby.” 

“Yes mm—oh! I do,” you try to get the words out as quickly as you can. He stops moving, and you groan in frustration so you just lay it all out on the table. “I, I love it when you hold me in your strong arms. And, ah, uh w-henever you come back from the gym you just look so sexy fresh from the shower. Sometimes I think about how you’re too damn nice for your own good but I bet you’d be so rough in bed.” 

“Really?” and then he’s shoving you onto the couch, air brushing against your bare thighs as your back hits the beige throw pillows. He’s hovering, dark eyes starting from the tip of your toes to your damp lips. “You like it when I manhandle you? Throw you around like a little doll?” 

“All that strength, and for what?” you try to keep your snappy remarks in check, but it’s hard when he’s pressing his straining dick against your thigh, weeping and needy. 

“You’re not gonna be joking about my strength anytime soon, baby,” emblazoned, he easily throws your leg over his shoulder, pushing your panties to the side to let your wetness leak out and onto his fingers, “are you gonna complain or be a good girl?” 

“Yes, I’m ah—” you wince when he inserts a finger, “I’ll be good for you,” 

“My good girl,” he revels in the way you melt under his touch, your previous sarcasm quickly dissolving into a puddle. You always had an inkling that Jungkook would be a sneaky fox in bed, all that muscle hidden behind a kind smile and a penchant for tea with milk and honey. 

Jungkook slips in another finger, stretching you and preparing you for what’s to come. He’s scissoring you at a sensible pace that has you squirming and wanting more. To prevent you from shimmying off the couch he holds you down with his free hand, and you love the way he practically feeds you to the couch, hands dancing over your neck as he shoves you further into the furniture. 

“You look so gorgeous,” he says, causing you to moan and keen at his attention, “you’re such a strong, gorgeous woman. Having you sprawled out like this, ready to do whatever I want to you is so fucking hot.” 

“I’m—I’m only weak for you Jungkook,” you say honestly, tears pricking when he dips another finger. The stretch burns deliciously, and your folds eagerly swallow him up until you’re filled to the brim. Your fingers or toys cannot compare to flesh, and you sigh in relief when you see his inked fingers pick up the pace once more. 

“You’re damn right,” Jungkook husks, and with a grain of love he murmurs in your ear, “I’m only weak for you, too.” 

And that’s when he snaps, thumb rolling against your bud as he slams his other fingers against you, going at a brutal pace. You cry out, not caring whether his neighbors hear as he pulls you back and forth through pleasure and pain. 

“T-too much, Kookie,” you mewl, your hand warbling to find his, “I, ah, ‘m gonna cum!” 

“That’s the plan,” he only goes faster, stretching your band further and further before your desired high is reached. His hand trails up to force your chin straight, looking up at him, “let go for me, baby. Wanna feel your pussy clench around my fingers.” 

In seconds, you gush. It has you in a slight panic, drunk on endorphins as you try to lift your head up but Jungkook’s hand is firmly pressing you on your shoulder as he fingers you efficiently through your high, the wet squelching sounds only increasing with your cries. His lap is drenched in your arousal, along with his chin and lips glistening with your essence. 

He finally releases you when you’re practically shaking, his hands sticky and creamy. You moan when he shamelessly licks them within your view, making sure to wrap his tongue around his ink-stained digits. 

“I,” your mouth is dry when you feel the dampness that hits your bottom, “I’ve never, I don’t remember ever—” 

Your babbles are lost between your throat and Jungkook’s tongue, shoved deep into your mouth. Tasting your arousal has you practically vibrating in your place, as you two rut against each other like hungry bunnies. 

“God, you’re amazing,” he says between pecks, kissing away your face of any tears you may have pricked, “Amazing, adorable, absolutely beautifulIadoreyousoso—” 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you press your hips up, wiggling for more attention, “please fuck me, Jungkook.” 

You can’t help the witchy, satisfied smile when Jungkook’s eyes darken to a thick coal, “Anything for you,” he murmurs, swinging your legs between his arms as he lifts you like a feather. 

On his lap again, you soon accept that the way you two mesh like puzzle pieces is one of your favorite positions as it gives you both equal space to ravish each other. 

Just when your hand trails to the waistband of his boxer briefs and you’re rolling your thumb over its collected moisture, the moment is shattered when the doorbell rings. You jump in his arms, unprepared for your moment to be interrupted. 

He groans into the crown of your hair, and you soften in his relaxed hold, “I ordered us pizza,” he nearly forgot. 

Perking your head up to look at him you regard him innocently, as if you didn’t release a waterfall on his sweats two seconds ago. “You got us pizza?” 

“I knew you’d be coming over tonight,” he’s pouting into your neck, regretting ever having called the pizza guy if he knew this would happen, “Victoria posted the publish date on Twitter. I just didn’t think,” he gestures vaguely to the mess on his pants, “this would happen.”  

“Damn, and here I thought I was being sneaky,” you chuckle, flicking his ear playfully. 

He gives you an uncharacteristically subby whine, shamelessly upset he has to let you go so fast after he’s given you your first of many highs. Before he weakens further under your beauty, he unceremoniously shoves you off. “Sorry, pretty girl,” you melt at the easy way his pet name rolls off his lips, “can you wait in my room for a bit so I can pay the delivery guy? I don’t want them to see you like this.” 

“But I want to eat pizza,” you declare stubbornly, standing up to button your blouse and pull down your skirt. 

Before you could fasten one button or pull down one centimeter, his hand darts out to snatch your wrist away from your body. It doesn’t hurt much, but it causes your body to heat in more places than one. He’s sexy like this, demanding your attention. “No,” he rumbles definitively, “my room. Now.” 

“Why?” you throw your hands in the air, yelping when he slaps your ass. He makes sure to make it sting, cupping you fully. 

“Because,” he says firmly, “you don’t get to eat until I eat,” you whimper when his hand reaches to cup your sex, panties wet and cold without his warmth as he pushes you in the direction of his bedroom. 

Oh, you can’t wait for both of you to eat tonight. 

some time later.

“Ohmygod the view is beautiful!” Krystal, who works in advertisement, squeals. “No filter needed!” 

“Alright alright, make room Princess,” Namjoon teases. With a bump to Krystal’s tiny hips Namjoon shoves you two across the pavilion, putting his arm around you once he finds the perfect angle, “Umji, can you get a pic of me and my Work Wife? I want this on the Big Hit Instagram!” 

You hold your straw sunhat down from the salty wind, smiling beautifully as Umji takes multiple pictures of you and Namjoon from her Nikon. Another successful year under your notch, ending with a successful work retreat. 

“Namjoon, can I take a picture with my actual wife now?” 

“We’re not married, Jungkook,” you chastise, patting the chest of Namjoon’s floral printed Hawaiian shirt so he can switch. Instantly, Jungkook slides up next to you like a picture perfect stock model piece, and you wrap your arms around his trim waist, “we’re not even engaged.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he pouts, looking over the pavilion and adjusting the both of you so there’s a good amount of you and the resort in the background. The sun may be scathingly hot, but it looks beautiful perched over the crystal clear waters. “Namjoon, you got it easy,” Jungkook says when he hands him your phone, “every angle is our good angle, so you can’t mess it up.” 

Being the honest man he is, Namjoon knows better and doesn’t say anything to that. Instead he shoots down whatever pineapple-flavored concoction is offered to him on a silver platter, and starts shooting. 

“Is this swimsuit new?” Jungkook murmurs into your ear between shots, flicking your little red number by the strap connecting the back, “because I didn’t see this in the luggage.” 

You smile big, pearly whites as Namjoon demands to pop out your butt and work it, pressing your body closer to Jungkook’s. “Tiny enough so I could hide it in my purse,” you reply proudly, voice low for only each other’s ears, “why, surprised?” 

“Definitely not prepared,” his fingers dig deliciously in your bare flesh, “would Victoria fire you if she catches us doing it in the cabana?” 

Amused that your boyfriend now shares your combined awe and fear of your boss, you twist his nipple lightly. He yelps, and from Namjoon’s guaff he’s definitely got that on camera. “We didn’t come to Boracay to fuck in the cabana.” 

“Then the hotel room?” 

Namjoon hands you back your phone when he considers his job done, letting you and Jungkook have some alone time. You wave your phone in his face, trying to get him to focus on the task at hand. You wanted to post some cute pictures of you and your boyfriend, one to impress the family back home and the Big Hit interns back in Seoul who are absolutely pining for your position. 

“Jungkook, they have the water ski thing where you can flip in the water mid air! Doesn’t that sound fun? Or we can go scuba diving, have Filipino food, or get massages. LIterally, we’re on Big Hit’s dime, and the first thing you want to do is go back to the room?” 

“Yes,” he pouts petulantly, leaning into the hollow of your ear and whispering, ���got a chub on.” 

Discreetly so, your hands brush against his navy trunks and you note yes, he’s half hard. “No!” you shake your head definitively, pushing him out of your arms. You’re not letting sex get in the way of your hard-earned vacation, you’re on company dime and you intend to milk every peso of it. “Namjoon, take him away!” 

You blow him a kiss and follow another group who’s decided to go eat, watching your boyfriend get dragged away by Namjoon’s long arms. Krystal, who’s been mildly watching the whole ordeal in-between taking selfies, looks at you in awe, “You got it good, bosslady,” she says, and you happily link arms with her in the direction of the restaurants. 

You and Jungkook definitely have it good. You don’t see him until dinnertime, looking utterly relaxed as he sips on a mango-muddled concoction. He must’ve gotten a couples massage with Namjoon, cute. Splitting up was definitely a good idea, by the time your meal arrives the two of you are practically leaning against each other, telling each other what events you need to do tomorrow and events you think will be fun to do together. 

“Joon,” Jungkook is throwing an arm over your Wusband’s shoulder, mildly tipsy. The image is adorable, as Jungkook long ago previously confessed that he felt a little jealous of Namjoon’s work relationship with you before you were dating. Now, it feels like they’re best friends and you’re third-wheeling. “What do you think about having halo-halo tomorrow? It’s like bingsu but with a bunch of other good stuffs. There’s red bean, mango, ube, ice cream…” 

Just as Jungkook begins his tirade of dessert ingredients, you pull up your phone to check on your social media. You smile back at your profile, seeing your latest Instagram post at the very top of the feed. Not to flex, but the two of you look pretty smokin’ since you’ve been keeping up with Jungkook’s insistence to join him at the gym. Jungkook and you are leaning against the pristine veranda, overlooking the clear blue water and a cloudless sky. The smiles you two sport are genuine and utterly in love. 

You scroll down the comments, most of them filled with sweet messages but one of them has you doing a double take. 

@sooyaaa__: 😒😒😒 knew something was goin on behind my back… good riddance

The smell of Jungkook’s detergent overtakes your nostrils, and you turn to him. He’s stopped talking, now immersed in whatever’s going on in your phone. 

“The nerve of her,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, disgusted at her latest comment. “As if anyone would believe her.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, “I feel bad for her, though. She’s probably lonely.” 

“Her loss, she put this upon herself. Not us.” 

You pout, “I know, but she was my friend at one point.” 

He frowns, putting an arm behind your backrest. It would be easy for him to say yeah, and she was my girlfriend and one-up you, leaving it at that. But now he knows better, and that friendship is a much better value than an ill-fated relationship. “Sorry baby,” it’s not his fault, but he sees your disappointment in putting out hope for an old friend. He gives you a little smooch on your temple, “do you miss her?” 

“The old her, yeah,” you sigh, clicking on her profile, “but now? I can do without her negativity.” 

“Okay,” he takes your phone from your hand, “have you ever blocked a person before?”

“No.”

“Well, today’s the day,” he says it so coolly, you barely have time to think when he clicks the ‘block’ button on Jisoo’s profile, then clicking off his phone to put in his pocket. “No more phone for today,” he proceeds to take your plate that was recently served, taking the time to cut your large vegetables into smaller portions. “Like you said, we shouldn’t waste your vacation time.” 

Your heart swells with butterflies for Jeon Jungkook, who’s meticulously cutting your food and telling you to relax and stop dwelling on the past. He’s right, if Jisoo’s not going to stick around for the future and continue to cause negativity in your life, why not keep the positives in the past while it lasted? 

“You know I love you, right?” 

He ceases cutting, and looks at you to pop a sweet potato in his mouth. “Love me enough to do it in the cabana?” 

He’s still on that? “Jungkook,” you warn, pretending to get up, “forget I said anything. I’m gonna go karaoke with Umji.” 

“Kiddingggg,” he whines, pulling you back down with an outstretched hand, “you know I love you too.” 

“You’re terrible.” 

“Only this way because I’d know you’d totally be into cabana sex if we were vacationing by ourselves.” 

“Yes, but you’re still terrible,” you giggle when Jungkook steals a kiss, just as easy as he’s stolen your heart.  

[eruhatesu]

CALL ME

Erwin Smith x fem reader (modern au - oneshot)

content warning: nsfw, masturbation, teasing (if you squint)

word count: 1.2k

AN: this is my first time writing. Not much action bc I'm still testing waters but we'll see hahaha. One shot. But if I get possessed again, I might make this a two shot. Banner drawn by me (click for crispier quality lol). Send me an ask for nsfw art reqs.

A week break. After a full year not seeing your family, you finally had a chance to go home to your hometown for 5 days. It’s the first time you’ll be away from your boyfriend Erwin Smith, a post-grad student studying further on History and Literature. You met him on a coffee shop you both get your daily morning coffee needs. He approached you first after 3 weeks of him seeing you almost everyday buying coffee nonchalantly, you stood out in the small crowd, unconsciously drawing him in on how you just didn’t care about everything else in the world.

One of the days you both had a non-toxic morning, he introduced himself with confidence thinking you might let him in your little non-eventful world. Of course you did. This man has caught your attention long before you caught his, you just didn’t bother giving much thought on any possibility because it felt really impossible to you having him for yourself. But since your first conversation with him, you knew he was the kind of person that does not require constant assurance to be in a relationship with. It’ll be fine, you thought to yourself. You don’t need much maintenance as well since you focus on getting your degree too.

It’s the third day on your trip home and a full day has passed without having any message from Erwin. You were sitting at a family dinner at home and you just took your last bite as you sip a bit of wine that pairs well with the meal you just had. You were having a good time listening to stories and light laughter your family was having but your mind suddenly trails off on reasons why you received not a single text from him. Knowing how busy he was on his papers, you thought to yourself you should be more mature and considerate. He might be a few years your senior but you both had been in good terms for months in your relationship just by having little updates about each other whenever you’re not together since for you and Erwin, physical touches and personal conversations weigh more than anything. So why are you feeling uneasy and very eager to know what he’s doing? You know he won’t text you constantly either if you’re just around the campus or miles away. You actually questioned yourself why were you longing if you completely know how distant as a person he is from the start.

Checking the clock it was 9:32. You stared at the black of your phone as it rests on your lap hidden from everyone, hoping it will light up since you figured he might be finally back on his apartment after a long day with his team. Few more sips and your phone buzzed:

9:41 Erwin.

You busy?

Finally you let out a silent sigh on your chest. You noted the lack of punctuation and a sentence not properly formed. He never did shortcuts even in an emergency.

You paused for a second not knowing what to reply since you’re actually in the middle of something. Before you can grip your phone to reply it lit up again.

9:42 Erwin.

I’ll call.

You reminded yourself, this is not like him. He does not call at all unless it’s very important. For the past days, all you guys did was texted one another and for you, it really was enough. Not a second after, your phone buzzed silently.

Calling: Erwin.

You panicked and stared for a second but considering the way he texted, you slide to answer the call right away. Hiding your phone on your side, you excused your self from the table

“Excuse me, my professor’s calling.” You thought to yourself what an ugly lie. Why would a professor call at night during a break.

You walked fast to the bathroom and calmly locked the door behind you.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Nothing. I just want to talk.”

“Huh- that’s new.”

You sensed with his tone, he had a lot of stress today. Maybe they had a few bad news with their paper.

“I meant, I just want you to talk.”

You noticed he’s talking roughly. Like he was running while on the call.

“What do you mean?”

No actual response. You just hear him breathing loudly. Panting. You got worried.

“Erwin, what the fuck’s going on?”

He still continues to pant.

“Erwin?”

He moans sharply.

It now struck your brain what he was really doing.

“That’s right, babe keep calling me.”

Relieving himself was actually the last thing you thought he’d be doing once you’re away since you knew this man for almost a year now and you know very well how he can control himself on all matters.

You audibly scoffed on your realization. Smile drew to your face and you can’t believe that his heat reaches your cheeks through the thought that someone like you can do this to a man like him.

“Erwin, don’t tell me you’re actually doing what I think you’re doing.”

He grunted without actually understanding what you’re saying.

“Hm- just keep talking. You’re doing good.” Words were rolling as he continues to pant and moan as you stayed on the other line silently grinning to yourself thinking of what he looks like on his couch helpless without you doing what he’s doing for him. You hear him breathe roughly as he fucks his hand with the thought of you. You felt powerful considering how this man who towers next to you when you’re together, literally calling for you just to feel like you’re there with him.

You leaned back to the sink as you listen. You were feeling heat on your stomach as well wishing you were the one making him have these heavenly sounds you’re hearing.

“Y/N…”

“Yes, babe?”

“Please…”

“Fine. I just thought you’re doing fine yourself back there”

“Y/N fuck I miss you. Keep talking”

You chuckled in response.

“I didn’t know you’ll miss me this much. I’ll be back soon.”

You closed your eyes trying to focus on how you’re picturing him again on his couch, probably still in his shirt, few top buttons unbuttoned paired with slacks, sitting lazily, head thrown back as he listens to you. Just as you were starting to reach below to relieve the heat that you were starting to feel for yourself, he grunted sharply for the last time then the call dropped from the other line.

You stared at your phone as it goes back to your homescreen. “What the-“ you whispered to your self. Stopping yourself from crushing your phone with your tightening knuckles, you breathed out and propped yourself up to fix your dress. You noticed your eyebrows still slightly woven from the fact that you were almost there with him as you fix a strand of hair in front of the mirror.

As you go out of the bathroom clicking the door close slowly, your phone buzzed again.

Calling: Erwin.

You swiped to answer. Puzzled, you thought he was done with his business with you for the night.

“I’ll come pick you up.” He said without asking if you’ll agree.

You just breathed out as a response. You were thinking if you should cut your break short but you both wouldn’t want that.

“Stay with me for a while?” It sounded more like an order than a question.

“Erwin, this is 3 hours away.”

“I’ll be there in 2.”

The call dropped again. Headlights did appear in your street in two.

[rainileo]

have you seen hao’s selca ?? where he’s on the bed ?? ugh he keeps posting thirst traps and i cant stop thinking abt him and u having sex in the dorm where you have to stay quite bcs all of the boys are there and u guys eventually get caught </3

HES SO FINEE KHAUDUSJSJ

be quiet (m)

idol!minghao/the8 x (female reader)

warnings: public sex (?), dorm sex, quiet sex, minghao is sassy lol, not much else just sex w/ minghao

lmk if i miss anything (not proof read)

a/n: i literally almost peed when i saw those pics lmao he’s so hot ahhagejajdvs. i decided to make it so that he’s in school rn (like idfk art school or smthn trying to get a degree lol, but he’s still an idol). and sorry for taking so long to get something out lmao

10:33 pm

“are you done yet?” your was tone is riddled with annoyance. you slumped in irritation, starting to get restless. you were asking if minghao had completed his school work yet, as he has been working on it non stop since you had arrived a few hours prior.

at this point you were so bored. the time was slowly passing by, and you thought about leaving more than once, but decided against it as the two of you haven’t had much quality time together lately. the other boys managed to keep you busy in the meantime, but it was beginning to get late and they were getting ready for bed, or already were fast asleep.

minghao wasn’t even paying attention to you, busy with his work that has been piling up over weeks. usually, you attempted to keep him on track with assignments, occasionally helping him or reminding him, but sometimes his actual job can get in the way and cause him to fall behind to the point where he has to spend his extra hours trying to catch up.

you felt bad for bothering him and getting upset, but, he did invite you over after all.

the two of you are always so busy that it could be almost impossible to find time for each other, so when you could, you tried your hardest to make the best out of it. it was even worse seeing as the two of you could barely have sex either, and it was really beginning to get to you.

his eyes were trained on the assignment sheets, reading over them with his head resting on his knuckles. he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment and looking up to you with tired written all over him.

“no.” was all he said, his blank facial expression never faltering. he blinked slowly and tiredly at you, the bags under his eyes now more prominent as you finally get a better look at his face.

he was seated at his desk and you were on his bed, sitting atop the sheets, holding one of his plushies for comfort. one of his nightlights was illuminating his room, letting off a warm glow that contrasted his skin perfectly.

you roll your eyes and get up from your position, walking over to where he’s seated.

“you need to take a break, like meditate or whatever you usually do.” you try to suggest, coming in front of him and placing your hands on his shoulders and rubbing them soothingly. his eyes follow you, moving his head to crane itself to look up at you.

his face softens from your ministrations, his body immediately relaxing into your touch. “-and i don’t know, maybe spend sometime with your girlfriend.”

the attitude is evident in your tone but he ignores it, moving his head off the table to move his hands on your waist, squeezing it in response to your comment, still looking up to you with those same tired eyes. he only stays silent, the air becoming thick as you await his answer. when he doesn’t reply fast enough, you begin, “c’mon, let’s do something, you’ve been sitting here on your arse since i’ve walked in.”

you now move your hands to his forearms, backing up so you can use your weight to leverage yourself to pull him up. he complies and comes to stand up with you. when he gets off the chair, you hear the joints in his knees crack loudly. he grimaced and began to stretch, finishing it off by twisting and shaking his leg like a dog almost, making you laugh cutely at him.

the side smile he gives goes straight to your core, it being a little to seductive looking for your liking.

suddenly it was like a switch was flipped, now that he was at full length in front of you, it felt like the mood had taken a complete 180. he intertwines your fingers and presses his chest up against yours, exhaling through his nose when you look up at him.

“i have a proposition.” he blurts out and you nod, “shoot your shot.” you reply, blinking at him as you wait, wondering what he could possibly be interested in now.

“lets fuck.” your eyes widen at his bluntness, mouth dropping open in hesitation. now it was his turn to wait for your response, biting on his lip and stroking your sides gently.

“but the guys,” you look to the door and gulp nervously, already imagining one of his group members walking in on you while you two are intimate. “don’t worry about them, they’re tired, it’s been a long week and i just need you now.” his hands shifted down to your ass, squeezing it through your sweats and you narrow your eyes in thought, hesitating on the idea of having sex with your boyfriend while 12 other men are just on the other side of his door.

you look up to him and he’s got his head tilted, looking at you with admiration.

“we don’t have to, but,” he pauses, pursing his lips, “it’s been way to long.” he exhaled again, letting out that breath he didn’t know he was holding. you nodded in agreement, trying to weigh the outcomes in your mind.

his hands smooth over the skin on your ass now, your left hand grips onto his shoulder and the other rests on the nape of his neck, playing with the hair that was becoming very long at the back of his head.

your brain tells you not to, but your core says otherwise by pulsing when he leans into your neck, leaving open mouth kisses all it. “o-okay, yeah let’s do it.” your voice is barely above a whisper when he pulls away with the same smile as before, griping your hips and pressing into you when he leans in to kiss you deeply.

the kiss is sloppy and desperate, spit beginning to build in your mouth fast. your hands dig into his neck unintentionally when he licks over your lips, causing you to shift into his member on accident. he groans into your mouth and you finally open yours for him to slide his tongue into you, immediately exploring and causing spit to dribble down the both of your chins.

it became intense really fast when he began to shift your hoodie up your torso, pulling it up and over your head, leaving your upper half completely bare, as you weren’t wearing a bra.

minghao shifts his eyes to your boobs and he feels his mouth salivate, moving his hands and beginning to massage both your mounds.

he leans in to kiss you again, simultaneously pushing you backwards towards his bed for you to lay down with him hovering over you. your lips never leave each other when he shifts onto his knees, hunching over you, hands going back to play with your boobs.

you let out low moans and he takes that as a go for him to suck on your nipples. he leans down even further to put his mouth onto your right nipple, making eye contact and your mouth drops open in awe.

his hands makes quick work on the waist band of your sweats, playing with it before you buck up into him wantonly. he smiles against you and moves his hands to pull your pants down, leaving your nipple alone. he throws your pants somewhere along with your undies quickly after, spreading your legs to view your soaking center.

“jesus, look at you.” he mumbles, eyes focused on your core and you whine impatiently, bucking up again to get his attention, “minghao please~.” you flush, heat crossing over your cheeks and leaving behind a light blush.

you didn’t notice until now that your heart was pounding, even harder when you realize that he’s straining against his sweats. “just relax, i miss your body.” his hands run over your skin, fingers softly gliding every inch of you and you squirm in anticipation, getting anxious as you hear one of the boys in the kitchen near by.

“minghao they’re right in the kitchen.” you complain and he scowls up at you. “so what if they catch us, they’ll just be jealous they’re not getting their dicks wet.” he says before leaning back on his calf’s to pull his hoodie over his head.

the warm light still reflects off of him, making him glow in the dark light and your mouth waters now, thighs shutting against each other to relieve yourself. he chuckles and palms himself, the both of you staring down each trying to relieve yourselves.

he moves his free hand to your knee to pry them apart, marvelling at your wet center again. he feels himself twitch and decides it’s time to remove himself from the confines of his sweats.

you silently watch him, moving a hand down to play with yourself, biting your lip from the pleasure of the relief of your fingers.

once his pants are on the floor he comes back between your legs and leans in to kiss you again.

everything in the dorm was silent except for the boys that were still awake in the kitchen, either cleaning up for the night or relaxing in the living room.

it felt wrong to do what the two of you were doing and you began to let you thoughts get to you as you hear the guys get louder, actually hearing mingyu walking down the hallway.

minghao senses you uneasiness and pulls away, moving his palm to your cheek, thumb sliding over your lips easily. “y/n, i told you we could stop if you wanted.”

it was like everything came crumbling down on you in that moment and you groaned out in frustration, slamming your hands by your sides and frowning at him. he watched you with wide eyes, confused.

“minghao i swear just stick your dick in me.” he snorts at your response and roughly grabs your thighs to hoist them over his shoulders. he leans down to hover over you, practically folding you in half. your hands clutch onto his biceps’s tightly as you wait for his next move.

he grips his dick, sliding the head through your folds momentarily, then slowly pushing into you, causing you to gasp loudly, mouth dropping open as he slowly stretches you open. he too has his mouth dropped open, sliding in to the point where he’s ball deep, waiting for you to give him the go. “you’re so tight baby. just like i remembered.” he comments, his voice now an octave deeper, pressing his forehead against yours.

you back your hips against him and he takes that as a sign to start moving his hips and immediately begins a fast pace. the way he fucks you is desperate and rough, panting noises only coming from between you both, trying to keep quiet.

“s-shit.” you throw you head back and minghao moves his head into the crook of your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses and biting, being sure to leave marks. you let small breathy pants out, struggling to hold you noises in, deciding to bite your lip to aid you in concealing your noises instead.

right after that, minghao finds your spot and it causes you to mewl and to arch up into him. his hand holds onto your rib cage while the other snakes itself between you two and starts to rub over your soaking center, stimulating you even more, causing your pants to get louder and louder.

“baby,” he pauses, his thrust never faltering, and taking a breath, “be quiet.” his command makes you shiver, his deep voice resonating in your ears.

suddenly he changes his pace, making it slow and gripping your hips with both hands, pulling out and slamming in against you roughly. you moan out in response, but not loud enough for anyone to be suspicious. he immediately moves his hand over your mouth, going back to his fast pace.

you whimper into his hand, hands clawing his back as he shifts himself to hit your spot repeatedly. “i told you to stay quiet.” your face contorts in pleasure as he begins to speak, your brain not generating a response fast enough, “do you really want to cum?” he whispers into your ear and you whine, nodding vigorously. you begin to speak, pleading and begging him to let you cum, but your sounds are muffled from his palm.

he chuckles deeply and leans back onto his knees, sitting back to admire your fucked out look, eyes watering, hair sprawled on the sheets and a light layer of sweat on your skin. his hand remains tight on your face and your brows furrow after realizing he won’t remove his hand. “you said you didn’t want to get caught.” he smirks, his cocky remark making you roll your eyes internally.

he sits up to start another fast pace, now on his knees with your legs dangling off his shoulders. his thrusts are forceful but quiet, skillfully angling them to hit your spot with each thrust.

your hands go to wrap around the one that sates you, nails digging in with each thrust. “fuck.” he groans under his breath, watching as your breast bounce with the force of his thrusts.

he can feel you flutter around him, you feeling him twitching as well. “are you close?” he leans back down right in front of your face, breath fanning over it. you nod, giving him pleading eyes and he removes his hand. when he lets go you gasp for air, immediately swearing out as he chases both your highs.

you arch your back, squeezing your eyes shut, moving one of your hands down to relieve yourself.

you’re both so close and you feel it coming.

until mingyu comes busting though the door loudly, laughing at one of the guys and turning to the two of you who are looking back at him with frightened eyes.

minghao attempts to cover you, giving him a glare and mingyu squeals in fear, realizing what he had just walked in on.

“OH MY GOD IM SO SORRY!” he yells, putting a hand over his eyes and blindly walking out the room, bumping into the door and closing it.

you hear him run away and you both let out a sigh.

minghao slowly turns his head to you and you glare at him, shoving his shoulder angrily.

“i fucking told you.” you retort, crossing your arms over your chest as he laughs loudly at you, listening in on the conversation in the other room.

“whatever, let me finish you off it’s been way too long.” he says one last time before reconnecting your lips and starting his pace again.

[seancekitsch]

Out of the Rain: a Marko x Reader fic

Warnings: bloodplay goes without saying bc vamp, rough sex, dirty talk, semi public sex, telepathy?? me projecting my music taste on this fic again. drug use, fast and loose use of vampire lore bc when i write i am god and u cannot stop me. also can u tell i have like…. v clear descriptions of the setting like i used to work at the place im describing but its not in california

No one had come in for hours. What's the point of staying open? You dim some of the lights in the store, which is one of three head shops in Santa Carla, but the only one open late. You're not really sure why this is the only store that stays open, why everyone else if worried about the three am walk back to their car on a weekend night. You've never seen anything of suspicion, just sometimes that biker gang watches people shuffle out. That was almost comforting, though. People didn't like those guys, so no one would make you use your switchblade if they were around.

The bright while fluorescent lights of your typical daytime ambiance faded away, and now green light bathes you in the “mood” lighting your boss thought was a good idea. The green lighting reflects off of the glass counters, shining it back at the ceiling and making everything that much more green. It fits, you think with the overall vibe of the store. The stale scent of weed, gently and miserably covered up by some nag champa incense, always burning in at least four different spots within the store. You'd long since gotten used to the smoke in your eyes. The music does everything to add to the ambiance. You always have full control of the music in the shop, usually because no one else is willing to take the night shift in Santa Carla. In fact, most of the boardwalk shops had a revolving door of night shift workers. You never got why, something clearly spooks them that does not spook you. Whether that makes you brave or stupid, you dont know. Jefferson Airplane’s Surrealistic Pillow pumps through the speakers in the store. But I suppose no one knows, you're my plastic fantastic lover.

The rain batters the boardwalk outside, a roar much different than the typical hustle and bustle of drunk teens, of the cliques and crews that come in and out; the few that sit and snicker in the doorway, never entering. Some too afraid to be associated with the implication of being spotted in the shop. We sell jewelry and vinyl too, you always say, when they balk at the idea of being in the same room as a bong or incense.

But then there's the other group that stands and idles in the threshold, also not entering. It's that biker gang. Four guys, a girl, a kid. Maybe he’s the brat of the girl and the one who takes himself too seriously, but maybe not. She looks too young for that. They'd been hovering around quite a bit lately, always after dark. You’d spoken to them, at least the ones that are talkative. The hair metal wannabe and the cute short one. Paul and Marko. You knew the dark haired one was Dwayne, but all he ever offered you was a curt nod and a tight lipped smile, respectful but indifferent. They're nice, not worth the spooky reputation they have. Any time it's not just you at the shop, your boss tries to spook them away. Good thing your boss isn't here tonight, because one of them is prowling around the storefront in the rain. That is, if it's not your spliff induced haze playing tricks on you.

No, one of them is out there. Without his little pack. The cute one. Marko.

You walk over to the door, which you haven't had propped open since the rain trickled in as a drizzle at the beginning of your shift. At least he had enough sense to be huddling under the awning. Fuck, he’s handsome even when he looks like a drowned rat.

“What are you doing out here?” You scrunch up your nose as you ask.

“Y’know, waiting for you to show up.” Wanted a look at that cute ass.

You blink at him. Did he really just say that?

“Okay… well, you know it's raining out there, right?”

“I might,” he offers noncommittally, eyeing the spliff still in the hand that's not holding the door. If it were anyone but him, you'd probably get fired for it.

Why is he just hanging around out here? That's hella weird. His curls are getting matted to his forehead, slick with rain, his jacket starting to look a little sad.

“C’mon in, Marko. It’s too wet out here. You’ll fuck up your jacket.” You nod towards the interior of the shop holding the door open as he passes you.

Wrong move, sweet cheeks.

“What did you say?” What did he mean, wrong move?

“I didn't say anything,” he offers nonchalantly as he thumbs at one of the tapestries on the wall. A garish mess that’s supposed to be the worm from Alice in Wonderland, but it’s distorted by a botched tie dye job of dark muddy colors. Every time you look at it, you assume one of the day workers did it.

“No, you said something.”

“Do you want me to say something?” there's both a threat and an innuendo in his tone. Maybe you do, but you just laugh, a sharp exhale through your nose, and bring the spliff to your lips again as he follows you deeper into the store.

You jump up onto the counter next to the ash tray, easy reach for each time you need to ash.

“So why are you really here?” your eyes narrow at him, kicking your sandal off on the floor where it lands a few inches from his boots. He looks uneasy in the space, like for all the wild shit you assume he’s into, he might not actually belong in it. He sways a little to the music, perfectly in tune with the rhythm. You sway along too, and suddenly he fills the space like he belongs. He just needed someone along for the ride with him.

“Do you ever come around during the day, or just at night because I’m so fun?” You’re teasing him, but it’s a nice easy feeling between you.

“Not really a sun guy,” bullshit, he would look beautiful with a tan, “but I do drag everyone here just to see you.”

“Awww, all for me? Do you have a crush, Marko?”

It’s more than that. You hear the words clearly, but his smile doesn’t move. You kick the other sandal off.

“I can hear you, I don’t know how, but I can. I bet you can hear me too.”

I can. You’re wrong about the tan thing.

You straighten up, mind clearing as you blurt out your next question. Something absolutely stupid.

“So what are you, a vampire or something?” he laughs at you, but his big toothy smile doesn't reach his eyes. No, there's something predatory, extremely dark in his eyes. Otherworldly.

How could you guess?  

“Well, that for one big fucking clue.” You ash the spliff for the final time, leaving the roach in the tray. You would think you’d be more surprised, more upset that you just found out vampires were real, and that you were in the same room as one. You have to say, weirder things are probably afoot in Santa Carla. Murder capital of the world can’t all be from some rowdy teens and a ten year old.

“You do those surf nazis?” is all that leaves your mouth. You kind of hope it was. They were the fucking worst. Racist, misogynistic, destructive. You’d had to threaten them a few times to leave your store on your shift.

“The—? Oh! Surf nazis. Yeah that was us. Ate a few of them.”

“Good for you. I mean— murder. bad. But they were nazis, and now they’re dead. so…” you trail off. Not really sure what to say next, but then you keep going. Remember everything you know about Marko.

“No, no I mean, it makes sense. Right? You and the guys only hang around at night. Aren’t vampires solitary hunters though? I don’t remember Dracula being in a frat.”

“They’re my pack. We take care of each other.” He says it with such fondness and devotion.

You feel a pang of jealousy run through you. You work alone for the most part, live alone, you’ve got friends but they’re all over the place. He belongs to something.

“And you're down with this?” he’s legitimately asking. You nod. You don't really have a choice, you're down or you get eaten, but like genuinely you are down with it. If he was going to eat you, he probably would have by now. There's probably a reason they've been hanging around the store, and in your sightline while you close up. You're putting things together.

“Like really?”

“Well, you haven't made me a kebab yet.”

He shrugs, frowns.

“Could still skewer you on something.”

Laughter erupts from your lips while you roll your eyes, music to Marko’s ears. This is why he took a shine to you, it's easy to get along with you, and you're not one of his brothers.

Something heavy falls in the room, and it's not the haze of the incense. He steps towards you, big blue eyes raking over your body, but always coming back to meet your gaze. He closes the space between you, easily fitting between your thighs; the rough patches of his jacket brushing against your bare skin where your shorts ride up. He leans in, like he's about to kiss you, and against all better judgement, you're going to let him.

You're going to let him.

The record skips. He holds out his hand, more like a gentleman than a biker gang killer, and helps you off the counter.

“Hold on, let me pick out a new record,” you turn without waiting for his confirmation, not at all surprised when Marko follows hot on your heels to the back room. Your boss’ office, the record room. Whatever you wanted to call it. His hands ghost over your arms as you push past the wooden bead curtain to enter the room. You can feel his presence close enough to touch. That's it, right where I want you. There’s his voice again.

He lets you actually pick out a new record. You slide it out of the sleeve and walk it over to the player. The static buzzes and pops as the needle finds the groove.

“Ocean Rain, you heard it?” No. He shakes his head, and you can feel it as he leans into your back.

“Echo and the Bunnymen. They've got a new album coming out this year.”

You turn to face him and his fingerless leather glove clad hands cover your cheeks.

He kisses you gently, tenderly. Not at all the way you’d expect. He’s eager, kissing like there’s something to prove. He licks his way into your mouth, tongue pushing your lips apart and you let him. His arms tighten around you as you kiss, tongues now greeting each other playfully. Your tongue explores his mouth, running along each and every tooth in his mouth. Huh, no fangs, you realize, and maybe he isn't actually a vampire. As if he reads your mind (maybe he does), he pulls away.

“They're, uh, hiding,’ he nods, almost to himself more than you. You nod as well, slow and uneasy, not quite believing him, but he pulls you back into a harsh kiss, more of what you expected. His hands roam your body as yours bury themselves in his curls. Still damp, but long and beautiful just as well. He shrugs the jacket off his shoulders, and his hands only briefly leave you to throw it and his gloves somewhere else, leaving him just in a thin white tank top. His mouth leaves yours to trail lower, kissing your neck. Your pulse point. Fucking irresistable. No, that's definitely his voice. Is this the end? Could be.

“I can smell you, hot stuff,” he moans into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You find yourself gripping onto his shoulders a little tighter, but he lets you sink. He guides you, again more gently than you thought he would; bare knees brushing the threadbare carpet floor before you plant yourself. You look up at him through your lashes and he all but bites back a groan.

“You gonna join me down here?” You lick your lips, waiting for something.

“Nah, I’m gonna let you have a head start,” there's a joke in his tone. You're learning that’s normal for him. He’s silent, or playing jester. It’ll be interesting when you let him fuck you. Shit, did he hear that?

“Quit thinkin’ so loud!” he runs an affectionate hand through your hair. “But yes, I heard you. Glad you're as eager as I am.”

That's encouraging. You take your time undoing his belt, connected to faded and soft leather chaps, not bothering to push them down his thighs before you move to the top of his jeans, teasing your fingers at the skin just above the waistline. He shudders under your touch, extremely reactive. Does he get touched like this often? Or is it just quick fucks? You don't want to think about who else he might be doing this with, focusing again on his body, and all of the offending clothing covering it. You unbutton them slowly, teasing. For a member of the undead, he seems to be out of breath under your movements. The zipper is pulled down just as slowly. You run your palms flat along the bottom of his stomach, to his hips before pushing his jeans down to around his ankles, hooking his boxers on your finger along with them. He’s beautiful, and you can help but stare. Hard, eager, and thick, greeting you with a small trimmed patch of golden blonde curls. You wrap your hand around the base.

You never expected a vampire to whimper, but that's exactly what happens when your tongue darts out of your mouth to lick the head of his cock. Quick, tentative little lick, testing the waters. Your tongue swipes across the slit at the tip of his thick member and his hands animate like you flipped a switch, rising up, going to your hair, rising up again, slamming down against the desk. Your boss’ desk. You lick a long stripe to the underside of his cock, paying close attention to the prominent vein there.

“So good, so good, oh you feel so-” he pants out, hands white knuckling the edge of the desk. Heat pools in your core, loving that he’s so vocal. Fuck, if he could just keep speaking. Your other hand moves to your shorts, sloppily and hastily undoing them and wiggling them down to your knees. You wrap your lips around the head of his cock and sink down on it, taking him as far as you can, until you couch when he hits the back of your throat.

“You look fucking beautiful like that. Please move, Please move, you’re so fucking good at this.”

You do, starting to bob your head up and down on the length of him, hollowing out your cheeks and flattening your tongue against him, cupping and massaging his balls in your hand. Your free finds itself between your legs, rubbing gently at your clit, stirred and encouraged by his praise.

“Does sucking me off get you hot and bothered?” Yesitdoes.

You keep bobbing your head, rubbing your clit, eyes trained on his until his eyes squeeze shut. His cock twitches in your mouth.

“Don't wanna- don't wanna finish in your mouth,” he’s urgent, grabbing you by the chin and pulling your mouth off of his cock. He pushes you back by your shoulders, letting you guide yourself back to lay on the rug. He pulls your loose shorts easily off your legs and settles himself between your legs, too eager to bother with removing his boots and everything.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for so long. Do you know how bad I wanted this?”

“Fuck me, Marko, dont say it. Just do it,” youre breathless under him, wanting nothing more than for him to be fucking you. He pauses.

“I dunno…” his thumb swipes up along your clit, drawing a whine from your throat, “For some reason I think you like it when I say things.”

You nod, knowing words will fail you. And he gives you what you want, lining himself up and sinking into you, groaning as he buries his head into the crook of your neck.

“Oh I knew your pussy would feel like fucking heaven,” he pants against your neck, pressing a harsh kiss to the underside of your jaw. He sets the pace quickly, unmerciful and fast, fucking hard and deep into you. His hands push up your thin tee shirt, and you can feel his sigh of relief when he gets a handful of bare breast. He doesn't have to deal with a bra tonight. You hike your knees up, opening yourself as much as you can to him, wanting him to fill you to the brim. He looks into your eyes while he fucks you, which comes as a surprise to you. Maybe it shouldn't. You wonder what it would be like to be a victim of his. Does he treat them well? Have fun with them like this? Or is he vicious? You don't know if you could picture him like that… vamped out.

“What does it feel like?”

“What?” he thrusts sharply, snapping his hips into you, making you yelp.

“To be fed on, but not to die.”

Are you serious? You hear him in your head.

YesIam. He thrusts like that again, earning an identical yelp, now coupled with your thighs squeezing him around the middle. You're close already, and he can tell.

He nods, a question; You nod, confirmation.

He pulls at the neckline of your shirt, already scooping so it doesn’t ruin, and exposes your shoulder. Somewhere non lethal. His other hand comes up to grip your jaw, covering your neck but being careful not to squeeze it. You hope he bruises your jaw, you realize. A physical way to feel him when dawn comes. He slows his pace to a rocking, grinding into you, staying deep.

Then he bites. Stars erupt behind your eyes, and it feels like your blood has turned to seltzer. Every nerve in your body is in overdrive as you moan and shake and come undone around his cock. You're the kind of girl that comes from the bite of a vampire, apparently. He doesn’t let up. You can faintly hear him moaning against the open wound in your shoulder, and you hope you taste good to him. He licks the wound a few times more, softly, carefully, like he’s trying to soothe you when he finally lets you come down from your high.

When he pulls back to let you see him, his features are gruesome, full vampire with sharp brows and cheekbones, pointed nose even that much more so almost birdlike. Fangs and bottom half of his face covered in blood.Your blood.  He’s panting like an animal after the kill. But he doesn't scare you. Maybe he should, but he doesn't.  It's just Marko, no matter what, and if he wanted to eat you he would have. Several times now. His hand finally releases your jaw, to wipe the blood from his face. He wipes his hand then on your face, covering you in your own blood, hot on his fingers and palm.

“Fuckin sexy,” he pants, voice deeper and distorted. His thrusts speed up, trying to find his own release as your nails dig into his back, maybe making him bleed as well. You feel the rug burn forming on your back, you feel tears in your eyes. It's never felt this good with other guys.

When he comes, he comes with a howl, buried deep inside you as he shouts and shivers then stills above you. Your chest is heaving, trying to regain yourself as his face slowly fades to normal, and he slumps down on top of you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, near the wound he tore open, now no longer bleeding. He mouths at any bare skin he can find, lazy half kisses as he spreads more mess and blood on you. Your fingers find his curls again, winding them around your digits as you stare up at the sickly green mood lighting bathing the walls of the room.

An hour later, Marko is helping you lock up early.

He makes sure to dump out all of the ashes from spliffs and incense, makes sure the vinyl is all in its right place while you make sure the register and inventory is all in its rightful place and order.

“You’re dangerous, you know.”

“Me?” you scoff, “That rich, coming from you.”

I’d do a lot of things I’m not supposed to for you. You kinda don't want to ask him what he means by that. For some reason that feels like a conversation you shouldn't have tonight. 

He leaves the store before you, holding the door open for you and letting you lock the doors. He slings an easy arm over your shoulder, not bothering to shield either of you from the rain as he steers you towards your car. You can feel the rain cleaning your face, the blood flowing away and saving you the shower you were going to take before collapsing into bed tonight.

“Where’s your bike?”

“I flew here,” he says with that devilish smile, and you're really not sure if he's joking or not. Your arm sneaks its way into his jacket and wraps around his waist, holding him close as he makes sure you get home same. Marko makes you feel calm, in a way you didn't feel before you moved to Santa Carla. How long had he been waiting to make his move? And does this mean he and his brothers would be coming around more often? Maybe being more friendly towards you. Each step towards your car feels heavy; You don't want to go home alone without him, but somehow you know he won't come with you. 

“Will I see you again?”

He grabs your car keys from your hand, and sticks them in the door handle. Of course you will.

Right. You just have to be near the beach at night. You know, where you work.

He kisses you full on the mouth, holding you close and tight, like you could slip away at any second. When he finally lets you go you pull away to be met with his face, full on grinning, his eyes still closed from the kiss. He doesn't look like a killer.

Marko watches you as you pull open the door to your car and more or less throw your ass into the seat.  He holds the door as he gives you one last smile, and says:

“You know, you should never invite a vampire into your life. Renders you powerless.”

And he winks. 

[seijorhi]

asks :))

what i have learned today is that y’all wanna get fucked by some monsters...

What does nostos mean? What language is it in? 🤔 also I of course loved it, mind blown as usual queen

it’s ancient greek! it means homecoming, the idea of a triumphant return home for the hero after a long journey. i found it through looking at the root of nostalgia. in this fic of course it’s kind of a grim tongue in cheek play on it. the reader’s coming back to the mountains, but she’s running away after a bad breakup, and the welcome she gets is... shall we say less than ideal haha

Just read nostos-

First of all as a person who reads monster shit- hell ya. Mhm. That’s some good shit right there. That was DELICIOUS horror. It actually had me a bit nervous and afraid to read what was gonna happen next 😳

Secondly- omg I wanna know what happened next (at the end) 👀 know what I mean??? 😼

ANYWAY AS ALWAYS you never disappoint and your writing is fantastic (if/when you write horror yandere stuff again I’ll be there- frothing at the mouth. A+++++ work ILY💖)

you want me to write the monster porn, just say it bby ghfjdkshgfjkd but ty

Omfg that fic was so good!

Did the readers mom know about monster kuroo?? Or was she just worried because of the previous murder? And did Kuroo somehow manipulate reader into coming back to the forest or was it just a big coincidence? (👁👄👁 there's no such thing as a coincidence)

Looking forward to your future work <3

ty nonnie!! i didn’t have the right space for it, but after kohsuke was ripped apart and eaten kuroo stayed by the reader’s side until late in the night, only disappearing when he heard the reader’s parents/search party approaching. they found her lying in pools of blood (and scattered half eaten body parts), shaking and unresponsive – they knew no animal could’ve done something like that. so they knew something lurked in those woods, but considering the reader had repressed the memories, her mom couldn’t just come out and say it <33

You are an AMAZING horror writer!!!

The uneasiness I got from the conversations with the mom is just *chefs kiss*

A+++++

ahh thank you!! horror is such a hard genre to write because i’m never sure if the suspense and everything’s gonna hit right haha

I read Nostos before going to sleep last night and at the time I was like “sure hope this doesn’t give me nightmares” and thankfully it didn’t lol. But I think I’m willing to take that chance again because it’s so GOOD and I think I’m just going to have to relive it – @ohno-otome

fhdjgbfhjkdfn i’m glad it didn’t give you nightmares bby!! but i also appreciate that haha, i’m an absolute wimp with scary movies and stuff but i just can’t stop watching them haha

I just wanna say that I was listening to "You're a psychotic villain playlist" on youtube while reading Kuroo's oneshot and I can't explain the emotions I felt, but I'd let Kuroo do things to me asdfghjkl – @itishebihime-samaforyou

ooh nice! sometimes the right playlist makes things doubly as fun haha

OH MY GOD!?!?! Nostos was soooo GOOD?!?!? Like it was so creepy (but in a good way), and scary and suspenseful!! And the ending!?!? Omggg honestly one my fav fics from you!! You did my mans Kuroo justice 🥺💖💕

TYYYYYYY i was genuinely concerned i was gonna scare everybody off haha

Ah! The new fic! Chiefs kiss! Magnificent! Bravo!🧚‍♀️✨🧞‍♀️🦖🦭🌹💫

tysm nonnie!!! <33

i’m pretty sure i’m in the same/similar timezone as you? and i do be staying up late to be one of the first to read your fics (i usually stay up late anyways). so imagine my surprise when i see you post in the afternoon. in conclusion, whether you post to align with your european and american readers’ timezone, my gmt+10 arse will still be one of the first to read your fics. also nostos sjdufigyyjf i have to admit, i recently just found out about monster fucking and nostos scratched the itch😫 i feel bad for kohsuke though

bby i always post at like 2-4 in the morning please get some sleep!! the fics will be there in the morning lmao. i kinda low key forget about my aussie/gmt+10 followers because i think there’s like... 3 of you haha

Honestly if i could give u a dollar everytime i got off to your fics, you'd probably be rich by now

lmao the idea that people find my fics hot enough to get off to still blows my mind lol

your newest kuroo fic was so SO good!! its totally okay if you dont want to answer this so you can keep things ambiguous but is monster kuroo planning on killing the reader after he's...done with them

thank you, bby!! but no, monster kuroo isn’t gonna eat her – he’s had plenty of chances to do that if that’s what he wanted, but he has other plans for the poor reader

RHI, I WANT TO STATE FOR THE RECORD THAT I AM OKAY WITH MORE MONSTER FUCKING IN THE FUTURE. i also want to say im not a monster fucker, but that just feels like a lie at this point. okay, now that that's off my chest, i love it. the mystery, the connections of kuroo to a cat. kuroo's probably gonna go and batter around his prey once they're under his grip like my cat does. hopefully the reader will come out somewhat unscathed, if they are ever allowed to leave 😌 love this, love how different it is, the way kuroo just tries to weasel in. very monster and yandere vibes, very you. have i said i love this yet?? id willingly let him get me drunk on his cock, maybe never leave the peace of the mountains again

‘i want to say that i’m not a monster fucker’ bby the denial will get you nowhere haha. just lean in and embrace it hgfjkdlkfgjnkdl ahh but thank you this is such a sweet ask ILY!!!

Omg omg the monster thing kuroo was in ur latest fic is so familiar to me abdhdmfnjfjf. I remember being told abt a monster with VERY SIMILAR characteristics to it (aka the not being able to go inside a house unless invited and using fire to lure ppl out) AND JFC IT TERRIFIED ME. Esp how when i told ppl around me and they didnt recognize what it was, but it was somehow known to the kid that told me abt it.

(Some ppl thought it was familiar but still didnt know what it was)

Do u know what im talking abt? Hopefully u do

-🥚

GHFJDK so the monster in this is kind of based off the nekomata spirit in japanese folklore - they can appear like people, torment victims by reanimating the corpses of their loved ones, they’ve been blamed for forest fires, so it was just fun to use that as a basis and then go buck wild haha. anyway thanks for the ask bby!

Rest In Peace Kohsuke, you would’ve loved Haikyuu season 5😔✊– @joyvstheworld

poor kohsuke deserved better, i’m just mean to the oc’s i throw into fics haha

Monsterfucking ❤❤❤❤❤❤ a little annoyed you're making me simp for yan Kuroo though (a vibe tho tbh). You're so extremely talented!!!! &

This is probably a stupid question, but how did Kageyama react when he couldn't find y/n? How is life with yan Suga? I imagine probably awful BUT yknow maybe the stockholm syndrome set in fast lmao. Sorry, I'm going on a binge reading your stuff. - @oracleofdin

i will not apologise for making you simp for kuroo he deserves it the man’s a snacc. and as far as your second question, suga’s a very caring, very smothering kinda yandere, so i guess in some ways it’s better than what the reader had with kageyama but... pick your poison haha

That was so good. I’m so shook rn I can’t comprehend anything but how good that was and how good a writer you are

TYSM NONNIE!!! <33

Ok, so, I just read Final Girl and the lil' ticket addition to it and just---

Well, ok I've been playing Dead by Daylight a lot lately? And I'm just picturing Tetsu as the newest killer "The Trickster" and I'm positively RANDY.

Your writing is ALREADY thirst inducing and just as satisfying, but this has SENT ME- If you're not familiar, please...

https://youtu.be/iowkiPobYYQ

Understand my thirst. (I'd also like to clarify, I use a different skin for him that gives him black hair and he looks like Kuroo with an undercut.)

~ @the-casual-hedonist 🌸

i love how feral y’all got for final girl kuroo. like bo and akaashi had his fans, but i put a spiked bat in kuroo’s hands and y’all lost your goddamn minds and i love to see it. fghdjkvhfjdkls thanks for the ask bby

idk why but I love preggo reader as long as I don't pretend it's me 😢✋ I hate babies n pregnancy anywhere else other than horny haikyuu fics

i think that’s a valid thing for a lot of fans. the idea of breeding is sexy, the actual getting pregnant and having a kid thing... not so much. but especially with non-con scenario’s, it’s more about the aspect on control than the actual desire to have kids. but yeah, i feel you

Sorry to bother but uh was just wondering in fracture did Osamu kill his wife or was it actually an “unfortunate event” ? Love your work btw!!

he most certainly did :))

LMFAO RHI i totally get not liking cheating/infidelity fics (towards reader) bc IT HIRTS ME SO BAD I CANNOT HANDLE THOSE.

id be reading fics those fics like: tf you mean my yandere aimt gonna baby me and only want me??🤨🤨🤨⁉️‼️

EXACTLY! listen i get that it’s a fucked up fantasy, but in my fucked up fantasy you damn well better have the decency to be loyal smh

Finders keepers is the most beautiful thing I've read by you: I read it twice like I normally do and here's what I figured out the second time (that's when I analyze it and find the little tidbits of things that are much darker than they appear (: )

To start I LOVE THE DETAILS OF THEM NEVER TEACHING READER ANYTHING- at first I assumed "oh they might see her as a little sister or child or something" but realized thAT WAS THE ISSUE!! they infantilize her and isolate her from everyone but her group. the small details like that are what make the story amazing 😎💅

ahh thank you so much, nonnie!! pls this is making me soft 🥺

I just wanted to stop by and say that I love your writing and I hope you're doing well!!! Drink plenty of water and keep up the amazing work :) but seriously you're one of the best fanfic writers I've seen on tumblr! I read your "Imitation" piece about kuroo and i keep coming back to it, it's so good! I did want to ask if you think it'd be possible for the reader to ever escape with the baby (or at least attempt to). Or if Kenma would "help" at all just to put an end to kuroo's antics lmao

kenma would in no way help the reader, and tbh by that point if kuroo did get her pregnant, she’d be far too emotionally dependant on him to actually even want to leave, but thanks for the ask!

You know who I think would be a perfect Yandere in the JJK world? Choso.

🚨Spoilers Ahead🚨

After being locked in a glass jar for however long he was, and all that happened with his brothers, I feel like he would absolutely never let his darling out of his sight. He would be possessive. Obsessive. And Oh So delusional. Sure he’d be your anything - he truly is a softy - but to what end?🤤

choso would make an excellent yandere, ngl 😌

what au/troupe of your fav character(s) that you have written do you like the most?

(rlly hope this makes sense🙏)

i am always a slut for soulmate au’s :))

[redxblueihateloveyou]

i'm curious, what are your top 10 favorite rinharu moments in high speed and high speed 2?? i love the books. i don't understand why people say is impossible to ship rinharu if you read them...

Lmao who are those “people”? As in multiple? And are they from Mars? I do not get this. You cannot be serious. You probably meant “impossible not to ship”?

I don’t know about top ten, I love all of their interractions tbh, they just remind me of my fav type of romance in general. I know what are my top 5 I think, but after that I love everything, so it’s hard to rate.

1. My absolutely favorite moment will forever be the one, where Rin describes the way he sees Haru in the water, I’m seriously forever in awe, because, I’ve read a lot of books, and like... even period dramas got nothing on Rin Matsuoka, when he describes the love of his life. I mean, seriously, find yourself a person who sees you the way Rin sees Haru lol

Rin felt like he was touched by the light, that surrounded him with warmth. He turned around to see Haruka, who was glowing. Shining. Haruka was shining with every strong and confident stroke that he made. The outstanding energy, emitted from him, surrounded Haruka with the dazzling light and Rin froze, unable to look away. Rin’s heart was beating so hard in his chest, that he forgot how to breathe. Haruka stole his heart. And the further away he got from him, the more distance grew between them, the more uneasy Rin felt, like he was losing the control over his emotions. He was possesed by Haruka’s shining. His strokes looked as if he was hugging the water, his leg movements were so effortless and so elegant, as if water herself was moving him to the finish line. But in all these deceptively smooth and unhurried motions were so much strength and power and such incredible speed, that all his opponents didn’t stand a chance. His swimming was that transcendent reality. He was like a bird dancing in the sky with its wings spread wide.”

Dude... I’m like... still speechless. I mean, and not just this, but everytime Rin talks about Haru, even when he jokes about his stupid habbits, you still feel that he finds him so beautiful, inside and outside, that it just makes my heart melt. 

2. When Aki tells Rin that if you put him and Haru together, you get a perfection. 

“That guy has no sense of humor. He should learn by watching me, don't you think?" Rin joked lightly.

Aki laughed a bit at his words. "It's true. Add the two of you together and divide by two, and it would be perfect."

But I mainly love that moment, because like... Aki starts telling him, that Haru is not what he's pretending to be (like for some idiots in the fandom who call him selfish, that was the explanation for them xD) and how everyone always want something from him, and he never asks for anything in return and doesn’t have anyone to lean on (yup that’s what I said all along, too, with Makoto’s dumb behavior in difficult situations, he’s on his own there lmao). And she waits for Rin to deny it or like be surprised, but it turned out that that’s exactly how Rin sees him and that he cracked him from the very beginning. BTW, here’s your addition to the ask about Rin loving Haru for who he is and seeing him for who he is. I’m just in love with that moment, because I’m happy that he just... not only he knows him, but bc he’s not one of those many idiots who just don’t get it.

"Nanase-kun seems like he can do anything all by himself, doesn't he? He's good at studying and sports and even art. He really can do anything, right? That's why everyone relies on him, but it would really be something for Nanase-kun to rely on anyone, wouldn't it?"

Rin certainly thought this was true. He had only just transferred, but the image that Rin had of Haruka was exactly that. But even if Haruka didn't have the will to go out and get involved with other people on his own, it wasn't like he was completely isolated. On the contrary, he was considered the most reliable person in their class, and when people relied on him, he always did his best to meet their expectations. This was the strange balance that people around Haruka had to maintain.

3. The one when Haru calls Rin by his name for the first time. And I honestly for some reason didn’t even realize that this moment was in the anime until my 3rd rewatch (lol), but, man, little Rin’s reaction is the most adorable ever. I cry.

4. When Gou meets Haru for the first time and immediately goes “ah so you’re Haruka Nanase, the one, who my brother talks about 24/7...‘Nanase is so cool, Nananse is so fast!’” and Rin just goes red lmfaaaaaooooo.

5. When Haru says that he feels the fever running through his body each time he just sees Rin, but he doesn’t understand what it means... ahem.... OH WELL

6. When Rin tells them he’s leaving and Haru gets absolutely furious and calls him a selfish jerk, but then he feels his legs giving out and he thinks that he needs to be in the water, but then he realizes, that for the first time in his life it won’t save him and he’s so lost and fucking crushed. "you can’t just mess up my whole life and leave me like that” and “this can’t be true, I can’t be this weak.” aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa fucking hellish angst... that mix of emotions was seriously hideous, at first he was so confused and in denial, he couldn’t even think, he literally went “who is leaving?” and then it just all blew up. Poor baby.

7. Just all the little moments, when Rin notices everything Haru does and falls in love a bit more each time. Like when Haru slowed down, when he saw that Nagisa is having troubles of keeping up with him.

Nagisa was earnestly trying to keep up with Haruka. If he kept up that pace, he wouldn't be able to run next to Haruka for the whole trip. That was how it had been yesterday. Nagisa's breath was coming short, and when Haruka saw him slow down a pace, he lightly turned his eyes downward. I guess that's as far as he goes.

A sigh mixed with Haruka's long breaths. Then, by just a tiny increment, Haruka let his pace slacken.

"Oh?" Rin said quietly. Haruka could almost hear him saying "You're so nice, Nanase," and he tsked inwardly. Nagisa caught up to him, smiling as if it hurt a bit. It looked like he'd lost the energy to keep talking.

Just cute, and they watched each other all the time, it’d be a bitch to count each one, but god, all of them were cute.

8. All the moments of Haru pulling Rin’s pigtails... hilarious, especially the RinRin one, but the funniest and my favorite was when Nagisa turned to Haru to ask him for a permision to call Rin Rin-Rin, like... all the rights to Rin belong to Haru and vice versa lmao I agree. “I’ll allow it” lolz shut it, Haru.

9. This moment: “Something happened inside of him that made Haruka incredibly angry, he was so pissed, that he didn’t even want to swim anymore. To think that someone like Rin could make him feel such powerful swirl of emotions and make him such a mess... he felt disgusted with himself.” Yeah, Haru, love is dat bitch when you’re 13 lol

10. The one where Haru whispers “sorry for making you feel that way” to Rin? The one where Rin’s grandma doesn’t want to go to see the relay, but then she suddenly does, when she finds out that her grandson’s future husband is in it? The “he at that moment realized that the only thing Rin was concerned about was Haruka” one? I don’t fucking know, you pick haha ANY MOMENT, ALL THE MOMENTS XD

______

BUT in all seriousness, I do not get how you can love Makoharu after the novels. Like do people just ignore these moments:

“Haru waved Makoto off like an annoying fly”, “feeling annoyed by his obnoxious care, Haruka went right past him”, “feeling like Makoto’s smile could turn into tears any second now, Haru turned away and went to the showers” (fuck this shit I’m out lmao), “complitely ignoring him, Haru kept walking”.

??????? is this... does anyone find this amazing??????!!!!!!!!!!!

Or when Haru was literally fucking losing it, cause Makoto just repeated everything after him and how he just lost all the respect in that moment.

“I feel like I should also get into running.” Makoto said it as it was a joke, but Haru knew for sure that it wasn’t. More than that, he knew, that Makoto was going to ask him that ever since the moment he found out that Haru was running this morning. Haruka fel annoyed, because he couldn’t find the excuse to refuse him.

Or this moment:

“Makoto was late and Haruka didn’t have any reasons to wait for him. Makoto can catch up with him on the way, they’ll meet at the swimming club either way. For both of them it’ll be better, if Haru went by himself, than stood there and waited Makoto, slowly losing his temper.”

“Haruka felt uncomfortable, cause Makoto looked at him, as if was a weak”

Or this:

"Did you know I was going to come out here?" Even though he knew it was impossible, Makoto couldn't stop himself from asking.

"Nope."

"Then, why…" are you standing in a place like this?

"Watching the sunset."

and I can go on and on and on

and the fishies... oh my fucking god, the fishies

***

I’m just saying, all these moments are not even funny. My point in all this, that like no matter how much Haru loves Makoto as a friend... or got used to him is what I personally think, I don’t think he’s ever gonna idk how to say this... respect him as a human being? admire him? And this whole situation... I just can’t appreciate such kind of relationships even in a friends way. 

1stly because Makoto’s behavior in general makes me have war flashbacks to some of my real life experiences (and yeah, I confess, it affected me and that’s why I don’t like his character a lot; because I don’t think many people know what it’s like to deal with these kind of people in general). 2ndly, cause Makoto fans keep trashing Haru and many call him selfish bc of the way he treats him, but what they don’t understand is that if it wasn���t for Haru being this harsh, Makoto would literally became even doormat-y than he is now (yes, it’s possible lmao). 

P.S. my favorite in the novels tbh is all the Haru “I’m surrounded by idiots” moments, like when they started to dig the frozen soil with little scrapes and he was looking at them like they’re morons and then just silently walked away and came back with a giant shovel... “if you keep doing this with your tiny scoopers, we’re gonna be here all night” and they then they just watched him as he did everything himself LMFAO I just love him so freaking much. I also think his relationship with Nagisa are incredible and so underrated, since it’s a huge and incredible part of the books. I just keep saying, Haru’d be an amazing dad, so I can’t wait for him and Rin to adopt xD

P.P.S. And what about the Free! novelization????!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAA

[hanahaki-neko]

Company | Megumi

The first time he summoned the divine dogs

note : a drabble i write bc a friend of mine suggested the idea of how megumi first discovered his technique. i had fun :D

He was around 6 or 7 when it happened,or at least that’s what he remembered. He had little to no memory about his mother,only able to see her face through very few photos taken by his father. Toji remarried another woman somewhere along the line and that’s how he met Tsumiki. Everything else was really a blur to him,how his step-mother was just suddenly gone and not long after his father returned home less and less,for whatever reason. Today as well Megumi returned from school after a relatively long walk with Tsumiki and entered their home to find their father slouching over the couch watching whatever was on the TV screen,beer in hand. He ignored him to make his way to his bedroom and left his school bag on the bed while he took a shower to refresh himself after a long day. The messy haired kid came back to the living room with a towel over his shoulders to find his father no longer there. Just Tsumiki in the kitchen cooking dinner for both of them.

“Where’s dad?” Megumi asked.

“He said he’s going out. Not sure when he’ll come back.”

He frowned at the response. This was nothing new to them,but still the kid felt a bit hurt. Toji would leave the house with nothing much but a small bag and wouldn’t return for days,weeks,sometimes even a month. Some other times Toji would come home drunk and would drink the days away before leaving the house again,not caring about the bottles of alcohol laying on the floor and carpet. On a rare occasion he’d see strange disfigured creatures around the house that he was unfamiliar with,before they disappeared just as fast as they had appeared. Megumi and his sister had gotten used to taking care of themselves and even to the point of raising themselves since they don’t really have anyone to help with homework or even house chores since they didn’t know where their parents were most of the time,nor they knew how they were doing.

Night falls and he’s now alone in his room. Megumi didn’t want to disturb Tsumiki who’s sleeping,so he decided to entertain himself who just so happens to have one of those sleepless nights. His hands moved around to make various shapes,so that when the shadow cast by the dim moonlight hit the wall a silhouette of different animals could be seen. Dogs, rabbits, birds, elephants and really any shape he could think of. "They could be your friends if you’re lonely." He knew how to do this because Toji taught him how to do it. Megumi often does this to pass time so he’d feel sleepy or just to cure his boredom. A good thirty minutes later and he felt his eyes getting heavy. Megumi pulled the blanket over him and lay down on the soft and fluffy mattress.

“I would prefer it if they’re home more often.” he murmurs to himself before finally falling into a slumber.

This goes on like a well-oiled machine. His father going out and not returning for a while,doing whatever. Him and Tsumiki taking care of the house by themselves. Megumi sometimes sees these strange creatures from time to time. It became the normality Megumi has been accustomed to and he didn’t really mind. He hoped his parents,or at least his dad would at least spend a bit more time at home. He wasn’t really close with his father but any other company other than Tsumiki would be nice once in a while. They barely talk unless it was necessary and Toji doing whatever he pleases just left them with less interaction.

On his way home this time,he got bored of walking back alone. Tsumiki had gone home first to cook and he had some extra work to do at school so what's he gonna do? Having nothing better to do and no one to talk to he started making shadow puppets to pass time as he continued his little walk. He felt his shadows moving a bit too unnaturally and Megumi quickly looked back only to find nothing wrong.

'"i'm probably just tired." He thought nothing of it and returned home.

Tsumiki and Toji welcomed him as he walked through the door and put away his shoes. After cleaning himself up Megumi walked into the living room to see his father carrying a bag and already putting on his shoes.

"You're going out again already?" He asked.

"Yeah." His father didn't say much.

"It's barely been a week." Tsumiki said.

"I got a work offer,so I had to go out to get some good cash so we can keep buying groceries."

Megumi frowned. He was never really close but hoped at least Toji would stay a bit longer. He usually leaves the house in intervals of two or three weeks since his return. And something didn't feel right. There's uneasiness clouding his head. Sensing his son's worry Toji knelt down and ruffled his already messy dark hair.

"Look,i'm gonna finnish this as soon as possible then i'll come back,alright?"

Megumi only nodded at the remark.

"Good. Be nice and don't do anything stupid while i'm gone. I don't want you worrying Tsumiki." Toji said before making his way to the door.

"I'll be back before you know it."

That was the last time he saw his father.

Both of them waited for a few days,a week,and soon it turned into a whole month,until almost three months had passed. Megumi and Tsumiki kept returning to an empty house,their father nowhere to be seen. His sister kept telling him that he'll probably be back soon and just make sure the house is cleaned so they wouldn't get scolded if he comes back. The days continued with Megumi often staying up late while his sister was already asleep,hoping his father would come home soon.

"Liar." he croaked out, wiping a tear away.

He'd sit alone in his room,sometimes looking out the window to see if he's home from this so-called work yet. Sometimes he wonders if he met some other girl and just decided to live with her,completely abandoning him and Tsumiki. He felt hurt, betrayed even. And to relief himself of these emotions he decided to entertain himself to sleep with the shadow puppets. It always helped him in these situations so why not.

He clapped his hands to form a wolf,when his shadow started moving vigorously. Megumi,scared, scrambled away and ended up falling off the bed with a thud. The dark shadow moved along the floors and soon started to form a shape of two dogs. Or was it wolves? The shadow manifested into two wolf dogs before him. One having pure white fur and the other pitch black. Megumi was scared with both hands defensively over his face when he saw both of them approaching him.

He only took a peek when he didn't feel anything for a short moment to find both of them… bowing to him? He was beyond confused. He then noticed the triangle marks on their head,a right side up for the black one and an inverted triangle for the white one. He didn't feel any malice from both of them,which just confused him even further.

"Hello?" He called out.

The wolf dogs stood up and just blinked at him. They were big,towering over Megumi easily. But their gaze was somewhat protective and kind,which eased him a bit. The kid reached out a hand to try and pet them,to which the white dog moved forward and he felt the soft fur against his palm. It wasn't long before both of them were nuzzling him,tickling Megumi which made him giggle. Both of them pulled back as Megumi just sat there examining them. He didn't know much other than they just suddenly seemed to come from his shadow. Suddenly both of them growled and faced another direction.

"W-what's wrong?" He asked,worried.

He saw on the corner of the room,that same disfigured creatures hissing at him,or rather,the dogs? It somewhat looked like a fly or the likes of it and the white dog jumped and bit through the creature,as it dissipated into a black smoke and disappeared.

He was too little to put the puzzle pieces together. What was going on right now,he had no idea. But when he saw both of them walking to him and nuzzling against his skin,he just knew for certain that he felt warm and safe in their care,for whatever reason he has yet to know. Without thinking much Megumi climbed back to his bed and patted the mattress as if to call them. Both the wolf dogs followed suit and climbed the rather spacious bed for a kid and two big dogs. That night he slept well among the two divine dogs,a small smile crossed his face before he fell into one of the nicest sleep he ever had in a while.

"Don't be silly Megumi,there's no way a dog would break into the house. I would've known about it."

"I swear i saw them. There's two of the dogs and they slept with me."

"Maybe you're just dreaming."

“I’m not!”

He was a bit angry and pouted before walking away,knowing this debate was pointless. Megumi had woken up the next day to find both of them gone without any trace. He tried to tell his sister about it but she wouldn't believe her. True it seemed like a fever dream or some sort. Maybe it was just some things he imagined about. But he couldn't help but be curious about the whole incident.

That night he stood alone in his room, feeling a bit nervous. It's a tiring day today at school and their father had yet to return. He was feeling lonely and didn't want to disturb Tsumiki simply because she had an exam tomorrow,and that she told him not to disturb her. Megumi recalled the previous night,how he had done the shadow puppet of the dog and that's how it started. He did the same thing again tonight trying to make sure it was all real. He wasn’t expecting much out of this,but sure enough his shadow started moving again. He was still surprised thought not as much this time,and took a step back as he watched the shadow form into the two wolf dogs he saw last night. Megumi stood there in awe and shock as both of them approached him before embracing him in some sort of a hug.

Megumi couldn't help but smile as he drifted off into a slumber. He might try to find a time to tell her sister about this,but for now he's just happy to have some company for when he's feeling lonely.

[ofheroesandvillains]

Reassurance - Bucky Barnes

Bucky Barnes/fem!reader

Words: 2.3k Warnings: Self-doubt? Request: Anonymous: Hey! Could you do a Police AU! Chubby!Bucky x Reader where a new member of the team makes Bucky uneasy bc he is conventionally attractive and seems to get along really well with his girlfriend?

Hey everyone! Sorry I’ve been MIA, Endgame wrecked me so I took a break from writing Marvel because I knew everything would just be ANGST haha! Hope you’re all well, and thank you to the lovely reader who requested this. Hope it’s alright! 

(Gif not mine! - couldn’t find a chubby one, so frowny face it is!)

“Damn. Who’s that?”

“Who? Oh! Oh my god, it’s him!”

Detective Bucky Barnes rolled his eyes with an annoyed sigh. He wouldn’t say that he hated the new interns…but god, did he hate their constant chatter. Work talk? Fine, he could deal with some brainstorming sessions. But the constant string of gossip being broadcast beside him was getting real annoying.

He didn’t know what he’d done to ensure that they were seated directly beside him, but he was one ‘Oh my god, Shelley! That shirt is sooo cute!’ away from kicking down the door to Steve’s office and demanding their relocation…and it was only day three.

“He’s so hot…”

“Right? I’m so jealous. The things I’d do to him…”

Bucky grimaced, the grip around his pen tightening uncomfortably with every word.

A familiar laugh rang out and Bucky groaned. It was a laugh that he could -and always would- pick out in a crowd. He loved that laugh, and he’d been loving it for a very long time. This paperwork wasn’t going to finish itself, but how the hell was he supposed to focus on it now that he knew you’d stepped into the room?

His pale eyes flickered away from his paperwork no matter how much he told himself he needed to concentrate. Your relationship wasn’t meant to get in the way of work, but there it goes, he thought, doing exactly that. He felt all of the tension leave his shoulders at the sight of you. You had a glowing smile on your face, the kind that made his palms sweat before he’d mustered up the courage to ask you out the first time. He couldn’t hear what you were saying, but the memory of your voice in his head chased away the sound of gossip that had been grating on his last nerve for the past hour.

Against all odds, he felt a smile tug at his lips, threatening to beat his bad mood out of him. That was until he glanced over at who you were talking to. His smile fell. At least he knew who the interns were talking about now. Steve had assigned you your own newbie a few weeks ago and Bucky wouldn’t pretend that he approved of the match.

He was a good-looking guy, that much was true. Tall, dark, and handsome, that’s what your friend Natasha would have called him…and Bucky had never felt more self-conscious in his life.

The Adonis talking to his girl had muscle on top of muscle. He didn’t have that little bit of fat under his chin like Bucky did, and the outline of his abs could easily be seen through the skin-tight tee he was wearing. You kept your eyes strictly on the man’s face, and Bucky should have felt reassured, but all he could process at the moment was his own inadequacy.

Bucky looked down at his shirt, at the way his own stomach lightly strained against the buttons when he sat down. He was aware of the way his shirts were becoming tighter and tighter around his biceps than ever before - and not because he’d been working out.

Oh man…

Maybe he’d let himself go a little, but he hadn’t realised just how much until he saw you standing there next to Mr Crossfit across the room. Bucky frowned. You were smiling politely, with a laugh bursting out here and there, whenever he said something that was apparently funny.

Bucky frowned harder.

Standing there next to him, you looked…good.

You looked good together. He was everything a girl could ever want in a guy. Charming, funny, kind, and shaped like a damn statue. Worry churned in Bucky’s gut. What if he was interested in you? He sure seemed to enjoy spending time with you. How was Bucky supposed to compete with 6+ feet of tanned muscle, the likes of which he’d never had even when he was still in shape?

More importantly, how were you supposed to resist that? What if you were interested in him?

Everyone knew that Bucky only had eyes for you. You were his world and there was nothing more beautiful to him than seeing your face first thing in the morning. You’d been together for two years now, but you’d been friends a lot longer. It was his best friend, Steve (now Captain of the precinct) who originally told him about your ‘obvious’ feelings. Apparently, he was the only one who hadn’t noticed that you looked at him with the same awe and devotion he specifically reserved for you.  

Fast forward two years and he was hiding a velvet box in his sock drawer, and carrying a few extra pounds around his waist. Now his worry was if you would accept the former if he had the latter.

Before his mind could slip further down the rabbit hole, a paper bag was gently placed on his desk.

“Hi, hon! Here, I got your favourite.”

You gave him that special smile you saved just for him, and even if he didn’t have a genuine one in him at the moment, he’d force a smile for you if it was the last thing he did. And he did, even if you’d always said that a forced smile is always worse than a frown. He eyed the paper bag and tried to ignore the addictive aroma that always made his mouth water. His stomach grumbled and he almost grimaced all over again when you both looked down at it.

“Thank you…” he said, crossing his arms on top of his desk in a poor attempt at hiding it from your view.

You frowned. He was curling in on himself, and never in the whole time you’d known him, had he looked so small. Detective Barnes was a confident guy. He was the most successful detective in the precinct, hell, in the whole of New York. He was a good-looking guy, and had the personality to match. But now…he looked scared, terrified even.

“Bucky, are you oka-“

He shot up from his seat, startling both you and the interns a desk over from him. He shot you an apologetic look.

“Sorry…I uh, I just…I gotta go to the bathroom real quick.”

He didn’t wait for a response, darting away from his desk and hating himself even more for the confusion he heard in your voice when you called after him.

The door to the men’s room collided against the wall with a loud bang, and Bucky marched over to the taps. He slapped some cold water onto his face and braced his hands on either side of the basin, his head bowed between them. Deep breaths. One, two, three…

The door to the men’s room squeaked open but Bucky paid it no mind.

“Um…sir?”

Bucky’s head shot up and he looked at the intruder with wide eyes.

It was him.

Bucky felt jealousy rear its ugly head.

“What?” His voice was raspy, and he cleared his throat when Adonis flinched. He was a lot younger than Bucky first thought.

“Sorry…” Bucky gave him a small half-hearted smile.

He smiled back.

“No problem, sir.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously and Bucky almost gaped. He didn’t know that Adonis even knew what nerves were. “I uh, I was just talking to your wife…”

Bucky didn’t correct him, feeling a swell of pride replace his envy. Yes, mine. My wife.

“She’s been a huge help, really, I get a little anxious sometimes and she’s helped me keep a level head, you know?” He was rambling now, and Bucky’s eyes softened. He looked like a nervous little kid in a gigantic body.

“I’ve been trying to kinda get myself to talk to you for a little while now, but I guess I was worried about what you’d say.” He heaved a deep breath and for the first time since they’d met, Bucky shot him a genuine smile.

“I know you’ll have a spot available on your squad soon, and well, I just wanted you know that it’s been a dream of mine to be mentored by you…unless- unless you already have someone.” He added, wide eyed.  

Bucky’s brows shot up in surprise. Of all the things he’d expected him to say, that hadn’t even come close to the list. This guy…he looked up to him?

“Oh, wow…uh, no. I don’t have anyone in mind.” Bucky chuckled at the spark of hope in the kid’s eyes.

“Tell you what, why don’t you get my details from my wife and we’ll schedule a meeting at, uh…at a better time.” Bucky gestured to the bathroom and they shared a laugh.

“Yeah- yes, no problem!” Adonis nodded. “I hope you feel better soon, sir!”

He shot Bucky one last grin before he left.

Bucky sighed and looked at his reflection in the mirror. In a way, he was grateful. The kid had been a distraction he didn’t know he’d needed.

“Nuh-uh, nope. I don’t think so!”

Bucky winced at the determination in your tone and he knew there was no way he was getting out of this one. Your hand grasped his elbow as soon as he left the bathroom and you dragged him into the empty break room. He’d almost forgotten about how he left you at his desk.

“Sit.” You pointed at the couch.

He did, and you sat beside him.

“Now, what’s going on?” You gnawed at your bottom lip in worry, turning to face him.  

Bucky didn’t meet your eye, his mind once again trudging up all of the doubts he’d tried and failed to bury in the bathroom. God, why did he have to care about this? Why did anyone have to care about what they looked like? He got you all worked up and worried for what? His own insecurity?

“It- It doesn’t matter. It’s stupid.” He shook his head.

“Hey,” you frowned, “it’s not stupid and if it matters to you then it matters to me.”

“Come on, Buck…talk to me.” You pleaded.

His shoulders slumped in defeat. He couldn’t leave it like this. You’d be confused, your confusion would lead to sadness, and sadness was not something he liked seeing you wear.

“Do you think I’m fat?”

You blinked. That was…not what you’d expected. With the panic you’d seen on his face earlier, you’d feared that someone was sending death threats to him again or something.

“What?” You shook your head.

“I just, I see you and Adonis over there,” he jerked his head in your intern’s direction, “and he looks…well, he looks a hell of a lot better than I do.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the nickname, but it came to a quick halt the moment you noticed a small frown on his face as he eyed your intern. This really bothered him.

“Babe, look at me.” You didn’t give him much of a choice anyway, with your hand cupping his cheek.

Your heart broke at the insecurity you could see in his sad eyes.

“I love you,” you couldn’t stress it enough, “more than anything, and I’ve loved you for a long time.”

“I didn’t fall for your abs, or your biceps, or whatever it is you think makes him desirable,” you shook your head with a quiet scoff. There was a slight shift in his expression, nearly imperceptible if you didn’t know him, but you did. It was a small spark of hope that flickered over his face, a trace of that old confidence that you’d build up brick by stubborn brick if you needed to.

Your thumb gently trailed back and forth along his stubbled jaw and his lips twitched upwards.

“I fell for that smile,” you pressed a slow kiss to his lips, before pulling away and trailing your fingertips across his cheek “and these eyes…”

The reverence and warmth they held whenever he looked at you was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. Even now, when he was hurting and uncertain, he’d show you nothing but love.

“And that heart of gold you like to pretend you don’t have,” you teased with a wide grin, pleased to see that he was trying to fight back a smile at the sight. His hand gave your hip a light squeeze, a half-hearted and silent ‘behave’.

“But mostly,” your cheeky grin fell into something more genuine, something he couldn’t question or doubt, “I fell in love with your love.”

“Hm?” His brows furrowed.

“Do you love me, Bucky?”

“More than anything.” His answer was instant.

“I know, you show me every single day.” That’s exactly the point.

“There is no better feeling in the world than knowing you are loved and appreciated,” your smile fell, “and obviously I haven’t been doing a very good job of making you see that if you have these doubts…”

His eyes widened.

“No! That’s not…you’re- you’re perfect,” this time his hands were cupping your face, “I don’t doubt that you love me, I know you do…I just,” he sighed.

“I just thought that maybe you could do better,” he avoided your shocked gaze, “maybe I’m holding you back.”

Your hands came up to give his wrists a reassuring squeeze.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be, and no one I’d rather have. I’m yours, for as long as you’ll have me.”

His heart swelled in his chest and he took a deep shuddering breath. He really needed to hear that. He already knew it, but he needed to hear it.

“I love you.” 

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling you into his arms.

You smiled, “I love you, too.”

I felt like this was really rushed but I hope you liked it either way! Thanks for reading! xx 

[sukunas-play-thing]

Could I get headcanons for shihai kuroiro x f reader pls? Where she's utterly loyal and in love with him but she discovers that he has feelings for kinoko? And she doesn't wanna get in between that crush he's got?. Love u work pls keep it up!

Ahhhh gfgfjf I freaking love this chaotic mess of a man. Since you didn't specify the ending I went with one hope it's acceptable ><

Happy belated birthday my sweet Prince of Darkness! Also headcanons couldn't do this justice so I went with a scenario I really hope that's okay thank you anon bean I love you.

Word count: 8015

Warnings: slight angst

*Shihai Kuroiro xf! Reader*

The feeling is indescribable at best. Being in love.

How his quirk allows him to hide in the shadows, you'd never know he was there until he wanted you to know he was there. (Name) smiled as she watched him chat with kamikiri and Shishida. He's so mysterious, and so careful with how he speaks. Hands moving languidly as he's motioning his arms as if painting a picture of what's he's talking about. "(Name), earth to (name)." She Shook her head pulling herself from her deep thoughts seeing Kendo and Pony standing by her desk. "Oh. Hey." She said meekly while waving her hand to her peers. "Always in your own little world you ready to head to lunch?." Kendo asked while tilting her head.

Pony shaking in excitement. Taking one last glance at Shihai, she grabbed what she needed for lunch and headed out to the cafeteria with her friends.

****

"So you're telling me Taemin from SHINee is now with super M? No way." Kinoko's mouth hung open in utter surprise as her and Pony exchanged topics of K-Pop idols. (Name) honestly couldn't focus. Shihai's birthday is fast approaching and still hasn't gotten together what to give him. Part of her thought something small and subtle would be suffice, but she also wanted to finally work up the courage to confess. She knows he's into dark concepts, and has a knack for penchant dramatic speaches. She smiled remembering something that'd happened between her a kuroiro at her work.

*he was visiting her at her job to give her a CD of his favorite band that came out with a new album. She had to work late that night and do last minute shopping before heading home. When a child behind them was throwing a fit because her parents wouldn't give her a candy bar. As (Name) was ringing up her stuff Kuroiro had grabbed a candy bar from the stores shelves, rung it up on a separate register and as (Name) turned to him to ask if he was ready to go he looked the child dead in the eyes, "My darkened soul begs for substance, and this candy bar sure looks delicious." And ate the whole thing right in front of her. "Oh my god Kuro-kun you're terrible." (Name) giggled as she placed a hand on his chest playfully. She could feel his heartbeat on her finger tips like an array of thunder coursing through her veins, seeing his surprised look as he glanced at her hand then at her, she quickly moved her hand away blushing. What she didn't see was the small tint of pink dusting his cheeks as well.*

***

Then a realization hit her. She knew what to do for his birthday. "Hey guys something just came up I'll see you later. " grabbing her things (Name) took off without waiting for 'goodbyes" from her friends.

The theme is a black satin box with Silver trimming and a gold quarter size pentagram on the kid. The box was a big enough size to fit all his favorite things inside. A close friend of hers was good at carving things so she got with Kamikiri and Kodai to help her make the box for Shihai. Once the box was set she carefully placed all things he loves most, and we couldn't forget his favorite food black ink pasta. After the assorted goodies were placed in the box she wrote down a note containing dark themed clues to help piece the puzzle together in confessing her feelings for him.

Once the letter and clues were finished she carefully wrapped the box with skull and crossbones and waited until the next day.

"Heyo!." (Name) announced her arrival through the door of her classroom most of the classmates were already there saying hellos back to her. She skimmed the room for familiar silver hair but didn't find the male in question. "Where's Shihai?." She asked tetsutetsu. He looked around quickly before looking back at (Name). "He's not here did you check the lockers?." She Shook her head, her smile wavering but determination to find Shihai fueled her even more. With his present in tow she walked around the halls but couldn't find him. She checked the lockers like Tetsutetsu suggested, still no Shihai.

*"where could he be... "* more of a question to herself than anything. She ran straight into someone dropping the present in the process. "Shit (name) I'm so sorry." Kamikiri said while picking up said item. "Was the box to you're liking?." He asked handing it back to her. "Yes! It's so beautiful thank you so much for the help."

"Y'know. You never told me who or what it was for." (Name) glanced at the green haired man. "Oh.. It's for well." She mumbled while running her fingers through her hair. "It's for shihai. Todays his birthday and I wanted the present to be special." Smiling to herself. He nodded understanding. "Is that who you're looking for? I just saw him by the tree near the dorms. With Kinoko." Her heart thumped in her chest, an uneasy feeling soon settling in her very core. "Oh. Thank you! I'll bring this to him now." Right as she went to dash off Kamikiri called out. "Hurry up whatever the reason he said it' was important for him and kinoko to meet up." But when he looked up the female had already gone.

Upon arriving at her destination she seen Kinoko talking with Shihai by the tree. Her steps falter and slowed, maybe now was a bad time? Looking at the wrapped present in her arms she decided against it. Newfound confidence settling back in. But she couldn't help the nagging feeling in the back of her head that kept screaming. *"turn back while you still can."*

Nevertheless she waited by a tree just a foot or two away for her opportunity to pop in and give him the present. While she was debating on how to go about it she overheard they're conversation.

"Komori-chan. I wanted to tell you... " Shihai's voice. He sounded so nervous, more nervous than she's ever known he could be. Yeah he is bad at talking to girls, but she never noticed him have a problem talking with her let alone they're other female classmates.

"I really can't help but think about you. A-and want to know if you would go on a date with me."

There it was. The nagging gut wrenching feeling she's felt since finding out he was down here. Her heart had shattered, and felt a lump in her throat upon hearing his confession. Looking at the box with much less determination. She slowly backed away from their conversation and left the scene like a dog with it's tail between it's legs.

****

Kamikiri and Kendo were walking back to class when they'd seen a wrapped present and a disheveled (Name) sitting on a bench. "(Name)? Is everything alright?." She asked placing a hand in the girls shoulder. Eyes peered through (hair color) locks, giving a bright smile (Name) jeered. "Oh me? Yes I'm quite alright. Why do you ask?" Kendo frowned. Fake so fake of a reaction she knew something was wrong. Kamikiri shifted uncomfortably on his heels. "(Name). You weren't able to give Shihai his present?." "Oh this? Haha well no he seemed too busy with Kinoko, so I thought I'd hold onto this for awhile." Her voice wavered. Kendo looked to Kamikiri then back to (Name) before two and two put together. "(Name), whats the present. If you don't mind me asking." She sat next to her. Finally she begun letting her walls fall. "Shihai.. He asked Kinoko out on a date. This present here? I was gonna give this to him not only for his birthday. But it contained a letter and clues, I was planning on confessing to him..." She took a breath. "But. It seemed he had someone else in mind instead."

((Lol this was super long. I'd put a 'read more' link but alas I did this all on mobile hopefully this was okay. Thinking about giving this a part 2? Not sure if this one was acceptable or nah thank you anon for this amazing ask I had a lot of fun writing this piece. Also the Part with the kid and candy bar? I seen someone make an incorrect quotes post of Shihai doing this it made me giggle bc he's totally the type to do this so I thought I'd implement that into the scenario hopefully it's okay.))

🐲Queen Targe 🐲

[marvxlousqueen]

Warren Worthington- Training Partners (smut)

Summary: Imagine getting paired up with Warren during training and things get heated ;)  this is post-apocalypse like warren’s a student now 

the reader’s mutation isn’t actually stated bc I figured y’all would want to choose what it is :)

warnings: smut, oral (female receiving), no condom (whoops), warren being hot as fuck ugh, cussing 

word count: a little over 2k

Read Part 2 here!

this is also the first time I’ve ever written smut so please forgive me if it’s bad and forgive me if it’s not accurate to what sex is like bc i’m a whole ass virgin :)

Warren Worthington, in (y/n)’s opinion, was one of the most intimidating mutants she had ever met. He had a darkness about him ever since he enrolled in Xavier’s school for mutants. He had been accepted following the “incident” with Apocalypse. Since he had been fighting against many of the current x-men, a lot of students still felt weary of him. Even though he kept his head down he was still frightening to many students. 

(Y/n) agreed with this. Everything from the way he walked down the hallways with his wings out to the way he ate lunch alone made her nervous around him. 

It was 3:00 on a Thursday afternoon as (y/n), Jean, and Jubilee made their way to training with Raven. Their training class was smaller than most, but more experienced. Almost all of them had been in the Apocalypse battle and others had been fighting since before then. In the class was Peter, Scott, Kurt, Jean, Jubilee, Ororo, (y/n), and Warren. (Y/n) felt less uneasy around Ororo compared to how she felt around Warren. Ororo had helped them win the battle against Apocalypse and since she became a student she had warmed up to everyone, even hanging out with Jean, (Y/n), and Jubilee outside of school occasionally. 

Training usually took about 2 hours. Raven would demonstrate new moves or techniques and trainees would go off into their pairs to practice while Raven would walk around and critique. On Fridays they would have fight circles and practice fast paced fights. (Y/n) usually partnered with Jubilee since they’ve have known each other for so long. Jean would go off with Scott, Peter with Kurt, and Warren with Ororo since they became close during the whole incident. 

Class started with a good ten minutes of stretching and pep-talks, along with some words of battle strategy from Raven. “Today is about facing the unexpected. You’ve all gotten too used to your partners. You know them too well. In a real fight you never know what you’re up against. We need to try and simulate that here by drawing random partners for today’s training.”

(Y/n)’s heart dropped. She really enjoyed training with Jubilee. It always gave them time to catch up and gossip, plus if she messed up she didn’t feel embarrassed. (Y/n) had fought with the others before. Peter was too fast and she hated training with him. Kurt was all over the place and made her head hurt. Scott was always afraid to hit her because he’s a “gentleman” (his words) and doesn’t like to take the first hit. Jean would just lift (y/n) and throw her back down until she tapped out. Ororo would use her wind to keep (y/n) down on the mat. Warren-- actually, (y/n) thought, I haven’t fought with Warren before.

She was scared that she might have to. His wings were sharp and big, the chip on his shoulder even bigger. She didn’t want to face him in a fight ever again. Raven grabbed an old baseball cap that was filled with little bits of paper. “We’re doing this completely random so no complaining, okay?” She grabbed the first two names from the hat. “Kurt and Jubilee.” Jubilee squeezed (Y/n)’s arm, “I’ll miss you. Don’t get too beat up without me!” She laughed as she walked off with Kurt. Raven continued with the names, “Jean and Peter. Scott and Ororo.”

Oh God, (y/n) thought, who’s left? oh my god please kill me now. “(y/n) and Warren.” Warren looked up from the ground at the sound of his name. His eyes landed on (y/n)’s face, no expression on his. She stared back for a moment before taking the rest of him in. He always trained shirtless seeing as how he could barely get a shirt over his metal wings. She the scars across his body, like bolts of lightning. Suddenly his eyes dropped and he turned around, making his way to the back mat. (y/n) hesitated to followed. Before she did she looked to Jubilee who had a “oof don’t get killed” look on her face. Jubilee warily raised her hand into a thumbs up, the worried look not leaving her face. 

“Thanks, Jubz. Very encouraging.” She just shrugged and went back into her training with Kurt. (Y/n) slowly dragged her feet toward Warren’s mat. He always trained back here. He didn’t like anyone seeing him so he hid out in the shadows. (Y/n) dropped her bag down and took a sip of water, trying to mentally prepare herself for the ass-whooping she was about to receive from Warren. 

Let’s just say (Y/n)’s mutation wasn’t anything that special, especially not in terms of combat help, but she had been a student for quite some time and Raven and Charles both agreed she needed to be able to use hand to hand combat successfully. “You ready to start?” 

(Y/n) jumped at Warren’s words. He had never spoken to her. She had barely ever heard him speak at all, just a few time to Ororo or Raven during training. She nodded and got into a fighting stance, putting her legs apart, left foot in front of her right one so that she could easily kick with her right one. Warren was standing straight. He spread his wings out to their full length (at least an 8 foot wingspan). They looked even scarier in the crappy gymnasium lighting. 

He started towards her, leaping into the air. (Y/n) dived under him and ended up on the other side of the mat. Warren landed and turned back to her. Her heart was already racing and she wanted to throw up from nerves. He lunged at her again and this time she reacted with a right roundhouse kick to his head, but instead he grabbed her leg and yanked her off her footing. She went down, accidentally pulling Warren down with her. Her back hit the mat and Warren’s head hit hers. 

“Ow fuck!” He looked up while rubbing his forehead and met her eyes. He stayed like that for a moment, not moving off of her but just taking her in. “Are you going to get off of me?” (Y/n) surprised herself with the confident tone she used towards him, but she tried to not show it. This made him crack a smile, “you really want me to?” His smile changing into a small smirk as his eyes travelled south, down her body. (Y/n)’s eyes widened at the comment, “I-um.. yeah get off.” 

“Your choice, babygirl.” He stood up and offered his hand. (Y/n) didn’t take it, choosing instead to help herself. “What.. what did you call me?” Warren laughed a small low laugh, smirking again. “You heard me. And I know you liked it.” (Y/n) scoffed under her breath, “Just stop. We’re supposed to be training.” She backed up a few steps, steadied herself, and ran at him again. She used the leg sweep that Raven had taught her yesterday. One problem with that is that Warren can just jump into the air and stay there because of his wings. 

This is why you need to evaluate the enemy, (Y/n), god. And stop thinking about what he said just pay attention, she yelled at herself. Warren came down from the air and knocked her over, once again on top of her. He seems to really like this position. That thought made (y/n) blush, which didn’t go unnoticed by Warren. “You’re a little shy, huh, babygirl?” He moved his mouth closer to her ear, “I’m sure I could get you to open up.” He moved down and kissed (Y/n)’s neck quickly before climbing off her, walking off the mat to get a drink of water. (Y/n) stayed where she was on the mat for a moment, burning red in the face and starting to feel a burning somewhere else. 

Raven had noticed her on the floor and jogged over, “(Y/n), you okay? Need first aid?” She shook her head and jumped up, “No- I’m uh- I’m fine just a little dizzy. You think I could skip out early? I think I’m too dehydrated to be training right now.” Raven looked her over, eyebrows furrowed. “Fine. Go get some rest and be ready for tomorrow’s training.” (Y/n) nodded and shuffle off the mat, pulling on a pair of sweatpants over her small training shorts. She grabbed her gym bag and quickly slipped on her tennis shoes, wanting to get away from Warren as fast as possible before he could make her red again. She quickly turned to walk out, but bumped right into Warren’s bare chest. 

“Leaving so soon?” He took (Y/n)’s gym bag from her shoulder and put it on his. “I’ll walk you to your room.” (Y/n) shook her head, “You don’t need to do that, Warren.” He started walking out of the gym anyways so she ran to catch up. Once she was next to him he slowed down again, trying to cherish the time next to her. Her shoulder touching his occasionally as they walked. He was in shock with himself for how he acted during training. He never talks to anyone, but to be able to talk like that to her. He’s surprised he didn’t get choked up. At least she seemed to enjoy that dirty talk. I mean she was really blushing, right?, Warren thought. 

(Y/n) was focused on looking anywhere else until they got into the main building where she could speed off to her room. They turned into her hallway and she pushed open her door, turning around to take the bag from Warren, but instead he made his way into her room and set it down on her desk. “Nice room. Looks cozy. Good size bed too.” He faced her and she noticed his face was a little red. Her’s began to heat up too, catching on to what he was trying to say. He stepped towards her, a bit of hesitation in his walk as he looked down to her lips. Finally he closed the gap, his mouth on hers. Their lips moved against each other and he backed her up toward the bed.

He fell on top of her, chest against chest as his hands went to her waist, playing with the band to her sweats. She started to kick them off before he helped her pull them off. Then he went to pull down her shorts from underneath them while she worked on his. Once she was just in her panties and her tank top, his hands went to pull it over her head. She pulled off her sports bra and Warren froze a little. Even covered in sweat from an afternoon of training she still looked beautiful. “What?” she asked. He’s eyes left her breasts and went up to her face. “Sorry. You’re just- just really pretty.” 

“Oh. I-um. Thank-thank you.” He gave her a little nod before he moved his lips to her neck. He kissed and sucked at her sweet skin hoping to leave his mark. A gasp left her lips that spurred him on. He made his way down her body. Worshipping it with kisses, licks, and love bites. He kissed down the valley of her breasts and then began to play with the waistband of her panties. His eyes looked up to hers, asking for permission, to which she nodded and put her head back down on the bed. He slid down her underwear and spread her legs. He didn’t hesitate to puts his lips on her pussy. He moved his mouth up to suck her clit while he brought a finger to her and pushed it in.

“Fuck! Warren-uhh,” she moaned. He moved his tongue down between her folds, pulled out his finger and replaced it with his tongue. He fucked her with his tongue and she grinded on his face. “Oh fu-fuck! Warren- I’m gonna- oh! I’m-” He felt her tighten around his tongue, thighs squeezing against his head. He pulled away from her and moved back up to her face. “I only want you coming on my cock, okay, babygirl?” He lifted one of her legs over his shoulder and push in with one swift movement. “Shit- you’re so tight-fuck!”

Her hands went up into Warren’s hair as he pulled out and pushed back in with more force. “Warren! fuck-” He kept thrusting into her, harder and harder each time. She scratched at his scalp, desperate for something to hold on to. His hips banged into hers harder and harder. His dick began to twitch inside of her. “Fuck (y/n)-” He kept thrusting, hitting her sweet spot perfectly as he moved to suck on her neck. 

“Warren I’m almost there-I’m- uh!”  A wave of pleasure hit her as the coil in her stomach exploded. He kept thrusting as her orgasm washed over her. “Fuck (y/n) ! shit almost! I-” He bit down on her neck and his hips gave on final thrust and he filled her up. His wings stretched all the way out as he came. The image was the most gorgeous thing (Y/n) had ever seen. 

After a moment he slowly pulled out of her, making sure to be gentle. He moved and laid next to her. “You good?” he asked, turning to look at her. She met his eyes and nodded, “Yeah I’m fine-but I, um, I don’t usually do that kind of thing.”

“yeah no neither do I..” He kept his eyes on her face and leaned in to kiss her once more, softer this time. “But I’m happy we did.”

[404fmdtaejin]

selfpara ; goodfeel

summary: a test to his patience, and he’s forced to promote something he will never use warnings: it’s about a feminine product brand deal, so if you’re uncomfortable with that... just don’t read wc: 485

his manager gets a hold of him in between moments of filming. today, he’s park saeroyi, the boy with a heart of gold that he plants right in the dead-center of itaewon. in midst of shooting break, he’s still kim taejin. a bit erratic and slightly rational to his words, he’s gaining his own quick breaths to unravel away from the role and step back into kim taejin the human.

he flicks a look at his manager, eyes casted towards an all too familiar expression he reads with his eyes closed. there’s silence, and there’s hesitation — context clues lead him to the general notion of negativity. but he knows better than to shoot the messenger head on. instead, he motions his fingers before weaving it across his chest. a few taps of his feet — and now he just wants to hear everything head on. filter free. void of the baggage that comes from packaging it nicely. 

“what does bc want me to do now?” he knows, it’s only ever bc that becomes the puppeteer to the strings around his back. one ploy after another, one step after another. it’s all calculated movements that fall into one target — the public chants and cheers putting him on a pedestal he knows to be a facade for what he truly is behind closed doors.

“they signed you up for another brand deal.” 

“what? what’s the cause of the uneasy look on your face?” taejin raises a brow, fingers cascading in small taps on an armrest — it’s a brace for the worst.

“joeun neukkim. you know?” there’s a grimace on his manager’s face, eyes shut so fast that he can sense the secondhand discomfort that slides into frame. a forced production, and taejin stands there eyes open and mouth agape.

he hold steady in the pose, recollecting the thoughts that leave his mind slated and blank. “a pad brand? why would they have me advertising that shit?”

it’s the crudeness that falls into his vernacular. the usual poise of a put together man edged with the professionalism he’s renowned for. it shatters at that one sentence, and he’s left hanging inside a limbo — disbelief settling into his bones.

“boyfriend. charms. they want you to be the imaginary boyfriend scenario in the set of commercials, making every person watching feel like they’re on a date with you. your target demographic is females between the ages of 17-40. there’s a reason they want you to sell these products.”

he smacks his lips together — call it an influence. he’s never once had his way to fight the skew of logic and data facts. one fight against this deal becomes an impending lawsuit and a forced ‘hiatus’ that lures him away from the title of shiny new roles. 

it’s a do or be punished.

twelve years, and he knows the former to be the only choice out.

[shortnotsweet]

Hello, your fiveya pride and prejuice had me on my knees. Everything you have writing for the umbrella academy is so nice, this fandom should be thankfull you are here making gold content. I'm not very creative and I still dont know which kind of prompts you would like, but the last au gave me some Elizabeth Swan vibes, so maybe you could do a Fiveya Pirates of the Caribbean Au? Whatever you make I'm sure will be wonderfull :)

It’s 1732, and Governor Reginald Hargreeves and his two adopted daughters, accompanied by the family butler, Pogo, are sailing to Port Royal aboard HMS Crown when they come across a shipwreck. The lone survivor of the tragedy is a young boy, shaking and shell-shocked. A sympathetic Pogo begs Reginald to allow him to take him in - Pogo himself will rear and provide for the child out of his own wages.

Vanya clutches the railing and looks out into the wreckage, into jagged mountains of burning wood obscured by ink black plumes of smoke that cast a ghostly silhouette against the dreary sky and the great gray sea, and can’t take her eyes off of it. It’s a tragedy, with glowing embers peeking through the remains of the ship, keeping it alive and drowning in the water, and Vanya is fascinated.

I do not want to know what transpired here, she thinks. She doesn’t need to know, anyway - it looks like a wasteland, like something writhing and nearly dead, and then her father takes her by the shoulders and pulls her away.

The boy is raised in a fine household, alongside Reginald’s two young daughters, both of whom are handsome, intelligent, and composed. His truest and most constant friend, though, is Vanya.

The Boy starts out as a Will Turner of sorts, only more confident and living in relative comfort, except with the knowledge that he is an outsider even among orphans, and a survivor of something terrible. He longs to go back.

By 1742, the boy is merely fifteen and already deemed an academic prodigy in a vast array of scientific, mathematical, mechanical and historical studies.

By the end of 1742, he’s gone, vanished into the night and headed for the sea. Vanya, not for the first time in her life, is alone.

Years later, she’s grown into a beautiful yet confined woman. During a botched proposal, Vanya faints, due to a combination of heat, anxiety, and a too-tight corset, plummeting into the harbor below, only to be rescued by a mysterious man

Surprise y’all guess who it is

Five and his crew are under a curse that renders them undead corpses under the moonlight, burdened with immortality. Idk why he’s cursed, ig he just got up to a lot of pirate shit lmao. The gold of his father’s pocket watch is key to breaking this curse, and he’s returned to Port Royal after all these years to retrieve it, after he gave it to Vanya for safekeeping the day before he abandoned the Hargreeves household to rejoin the life of piracy

She agrees, of course, but he is soon confronted by both Reginald and Leonard, backed by the Navy, on account of 1) being a pirate and 2) trespassing and in order to safely escape he takes Vanya hostage

In his time away, Five has become captain of the dreaded Academy, the ship that his own father used to command before the wreck. Vanya initially disapproves of his life choices because he may be older now and like damn ok, but 1) hygiene 2) the ethical ambiguity of piracy and 3) you left me dude without warning ,, tf is up with that?

Cue childhood friends reconnecting in really awkward circumstances + maybe Stockholm syndrome

Luther, Ben, Klaus, and Diego are members of his crew. While Diego is a fantastic swordsman, Ben has a connection with sea monsters that allows him to dissuade nearby creatures from bothering their ship. Klaus is a mystic they picked up along the coast who can communicate with the dead - it’s through him that they learn the specifics of the curse.

Five glances down at her, sleeves rolled above his forearms, his hair dripping saltwater over his brow. “The Romans did it, didn’t they?” Honor among thieves is how the saying goes. “They encouraged it, actually, especially in children. Stealing. Steal from your enemies, steal from your neighbors, steal from your friends.”

At this, Vanya’s eyes narrow. “I wouldn’t steal from my friends.”

Five shrugs.

“It builds character,” he says, “and it builds world skills. If you’re a thief, then you’re fast, resourceful, and, most importantly, you’re still alive. That’s helpful. It can be a good thing, to be a thief.”

“The greatest empire of all time, after Britain, just a whole lot of thieves?”

“That’s Rome, then, a bunch of thieves. The empire essentially stole its own foundation from other civilizations, you know? Arches and aqueducts and art - even the Republic was based on direct democracy.” He leans back and looks at her from under his lids. The floor below them shifts and sways along with the rhythm of the sea, and Vanya leans against the mast to keep her horizon line steady.

“So you’re a history buff now?”

“I always have been,” Five says defensively. “Math is just more exciting. You don’t need to get caught up with the Romans anyway,” Five laughs. “We’re pirates.”

“I suppose I need to find a way to make myself useful, then?” Vanya crosses her arms, squinting under the white hot sun. “Be helpful.” Do as the Romans do.

“No, of course not,” Five says quickly, uneasy, bitter. “You didn’t join the crew, remember? You were kidnapped.”

Days into her kidnapping on the high seas, Vanya ditched her heavy ass dress for a practical pair of trousers and tied her hair up. The sun smiles down on them in a thousand yard stare, reflecting white off the crests of the waves that jostle the ship further away from land, and her white skin has already shown signs of browning. She can breathe, though, better and easier than she’s ever breathed in her entire life

The ocean never ends, but Vanya can see something flickering on the horizon, something that looms across the skyline and drags the sky down to meet it. It feels like hope, like dreams once dashed in her girlhood, and now that it has come out of hiding, unclothed and unabashed under an impossible white sun, Vanya can’t stop looking.

The Academy is still being pursued by the Royal Navy, and Five can’t just return Vanya bc they're not only on the run but they’ve got shit to do, aka curse-breaking shit. Plus, he really, really doesn’t want to

And deep down he can tell that she doesn’t want to either

“But you like it here, don’t you,” he accuses her, hard and fast because he knows she’ll be honest, and the strategist in him wants to size the queen, wants to take her home. “You were miserable back there,” Five reminds her, his own eagerness a tangible thing to his ears. “Reginald made you miserable. Jenkins made you miserable, hell, even Allison made you miserable.” Vanya’s gaze remains unblinking, but the corner of her mouth twitches ever so slightly, her lower lip dragging it down. The sight of it gives him pause, and he wants to stop for a moment, wants to apologize for it, but the conqueror in him leers in approval and he’s plowed too forward, too far already. “You wanted to leave, every second of every day. That’s what you told me,” Five reaches forward to take her by the shoulders, gently crowding her against the railing, and she looks up and into his face, dwarfed by his height. “You’re free now, you’re here. Reginald can’t get to you. Why would you want to go back?”

You’re free now. There’s nothing for you there, he tries to say, and she must get this, because her eyes go alight, just for a second, and her lip curls into a snarl.

The thing is, she’s much happier here, with Five and his crew and a great, endless sea, but she remembers Allison all too vividly, remembers that she left her alone without warning. Vanya knows that it’s like to be left behind, and the thought of Allison alone with only their father for company strikes something hollow and sinking into her chest, something like dread

“I don’t want to go back,” she snaps, harsher than he expected, and he lets go of her. “Of course I don’t.”

You think I want to go back to corsets and Reginald’s voice in every hallway of that old, evil house, and Leonard crowding me everywhere, acting like I’ve already said yes, and this stench of absence that follows me wherever I go.

Oh, she realizes, of course he doesn’t.

“Then don’t.”

Vanya glares at him, hard and herself, and he can see the betrayal sink into her face and settle like silt at the bottom of a glass.

“It’s because we’re family,” she says, and the fifteen-year-old in Five finds himself enraged because Vanya’s family is supposed to be here, with him.

“I need to see her again,” Vanya enunciates carefully, forming every word with a nervous kind of fear, like she thinks he won’t understand, and Five’s anger dissipates almost as quickly as it had risen.

They’re going to break that curse, and Five will be a real boy (man) again. Allison won’t be alone, because her sister will come back for her (just as Five came back for Vanya). They’ll all have real, red, beating hearts, and Five will have Vanya for himself and Vanya will have one thing all her own - she has an entire ocean to conquer and no regrets

For once, Vanya has a choice, and it’s a pirate's life for her

[intobangtan]

Hii I got a request♡ could you do a bts react to their s/o growing up with a single parent cause one of the parents simply didn't want to take responsibility, maybe it could be their first time meeting their s/o parent idk. keep up the good work! :)

hey, I'm sorry it took me a while to post this bc I've been busy with work lately. But I wanted to get something up today sooo here is the RAPLINE only. If you wanted to read the reaction of a vocal line, tell me. I'll try to do a one shot.

But hope you enjoy this. ❤️

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SUGA

You tried to avoid Yoongi's stare as he watched you intensely.

"Why don't you tell me?" You heard the frustration in his voice. He was losing his temper.

He knew you hid something about your past and it was bothering him. You couldn't even remember how it got to this point tonight.

You came to your boyfriend's apartment and after you two had some takeaway, you decided to watch a movie.

You started to talk about some daily stuff but then somehow Yoongi asked you for the thousandth time about your mother.

You never talked about her. You had lived with your father for over 10 years and you had pushed the memories of the time with your mom far back in your mind.

She had passed away of an overdose. You felt ashamed when remembering how you found out three years after her death.

She had been taking them for a few months and stopped taking responsibilities in the household.

Tears formed at the corners of your eyes again, as a feeling of uneasiness hit you.

Yoongi lifted your chin up. He stared at you with a soft expression, a sigh escaping his lips.

"I'm here for you, YN and I'm only trying to understand." He tilted his head slightly, waiting for you.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You told him what had occured over ten years ago and your mother had an overdose one day. He waited for you to finish.

"I feel ashamed sometimes. I found out about the real reason later. I-" You gulped, tears building again.

"I always kept her well in mind. She was a cheerful woman as much as I remember and I can't believe how she did that. Lately she had been avoiding me, yelling at me every time she saw me and now all I can think of when I hear her name is the way she died and nothing else." Yoongi wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. He placed gentle kisses on top of your head, as he caressed your back.

"I think the way we die shouldn't be the only thing to define us. But the way we lived. If she had been cheerful all along, then your image of her shouldn't change. People make mistakes. You should forgive her. " His soft voice near your ear caused a slight shiver to run down your neck.

"You shouldn't be ashamed of talking about your mother, if she made you happy at some point in life. You should forgive her because I bet, she didn't want to leave you like that."

You smiled halfly, cupping Yoongi's cheeks. You leaned forward, pecking his lips. He smiled, resting his forehead against yours as he whispered words you took as a promise.

"I'll always be there for you. Even if others leave."

J-HOPE

You gasped when you saw the photo album in Hoseok's hands. You took it away quickly, putting it back in the drawer. You slammed the drawer shut, looking nervously up at your boyfriend.

Hoseok cocked his head, eyeing you suspiciously.

"What photo album was that?" He watched you curiously but you sighed, rubbing the back of your head with one hand, waving dismissively with the other.

"It's nothing special." But Hoseok wasn't impressed with your bad acting.

"Tell me," He reached for the drawer again. "I want to see how you looked like as a child."

"There are only like two photos." You tried to shrug it off but he was too eager to know. He tried to reach forward again and the both of you ended up wrestling. He had pinned you with your hands tied together in his grasp in a second.

You huffed, "Ok, fine." He released your hands and let you hand him the photo album. He was surprised to see that indeed only two photos were inside.

The first picture was a 2-year-old you, sitting on a couch, smiling lightly into the camera.

The second one is you as a new born in the arms of a pair that Hoseok couldn't recognize.

He had met your single parent, your dad, already. But these were strangers to him. He turned his head to look at you.

"These," You pointed at the 2nd picture. "Are my parents. My biological parents."

You bit your lip nervously. You hadn't thought that the truth would come out this quickly. Hoseok and you had been dating for only three weeks and you had successfully hidden the truth about your parents until now.

"I was adopted into this family. They gave me to an orphanage when I was about to turn three. I haven't heard of them since. After I turned eighteen, the orphanage sent me these pictures."

Hoseok was shook. He never would have thought you were an adopted child. For him you looked a lot like your adoptive father.

"But I love my dad." You explain quickly. "I'm grateful he took me in. I love him."

Hoseok smiled, hugging you tightly.

"I didn't know, YN."

"No, it's ok, I guess."

"It is! You have people that love and care for you. Biological or not. It doesn't matter. Your farther is so thoughtful of you and he is really cool. And I love you, too." He kissed you softly.

"I love you more than anything. You won't ever need anybody else."

RM

Your palms were sweating, when you reached for the door knob. You glanced over at Namjoon, your boyfriend, who couldn't stand still because he was too excited to meet your parent.

Today he would be meeting your mother. You had tried to delay this first meeting as much as you could but Namjoon's insisting was now too much to ignore.

You hadn't told him yet that your dad had left you because your mother was a drug addict. You pulled your hand back, looking at him. You thought about how you could explain the situation quickly before it would end up being a surprise for him.

"Joonie," You started, sighing. "There's a thing I need to tell you." Your boyfriend stared at you with a warm smile.

"I don't know why I never told you this but-" You stopped, feeling stupid. You had been dating for over 3 months and every time he had asked you a question about your parents, you had avoided him successfully.

But today it flared back. You had been dishonest.

"Baby, you can tell me anything that bothers you. I'll help you out and I would never judge."

You smiled, grabbing his hand.

"Expect, if you tell me that your parents don't like chocolate cake, then I'd lose it."

He said, lifting up the bag with cake in his hands.

You snorted, shaking your head. Then Namjoon remained quiet, waiting for you to say whatever bothered you and hovered in your mind.

"You know, I never really told you much about my parents." You started again. "The thing is that I only live with my mother. My father left us when I was five years old because he found a different woman and didn't want to put up with the problems my mom had." You looked at him, spitting out everything as fast as you could. You tried to decipher what he might be thinking but you couldn't glance at him for too long. You soon avoided his gaze, looking at the ground.

He lifted up your chin with his delicate fingers, a loving smile playing on his lips.

"Why do I feel like you're ashamed of telling me this?" He asked, raising his eyebrow slightly.

You smiled nervously.

"You shouldn't be. Life can be hard sometimes. You struggled but yet look what a beautiful young woman you are - in and out.

"I want to meet your mother regardless of her situation. I want to tell her what an amazing daughter she has and that I will love her daughter unconditionally, not caring about her past." A few tears rolled down your cheeks silently.

You were a fool to think that this amazing man would change his ways because of your parents.

You were a fool to think that, he'd dislike you. He was your Joonie after all, the smartest and sweetest man in Uni and the man that made you feel like you're the only girl in the world.

You got on your tiptoes, pecking Joon's lips.

"I love you."

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masterlist ❤️