#very interesting!! i like it more than i thought

[gimmethatagustd]

paint me naked | jjk

After the mysteriously hot guy in your university class starts taking an interest in you, should you really trust that he’s not like all the other college fuckboys? Especially when his best friend is the guy who broke your heart?

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (past Taehyung)

Rating: Explicit

Genre/Trope: College AU, friends to lovers, fluff, smut, light angst

Word Count: 17,025

Content Warning: Self-esteem issues, alcohol, marijuana (of course, it's a jai fic), brief mention of drug dealing, it's very "hehe I have a crush" y'know, kinda YA of me jshdfks rip, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, can you tell I was a depressed poetry student in college??

A/N: This ended up being my most popular fic back in the day (lol like a year ago). I'm ngl, I don't think of it as highly as I do the other fics I've written, but this was I think the second fic I ever wrote?? Back in 2022. Crazy times. So y'know, growth and whateva. The funniest part is that probs 85% of this fic literally happened to me sjdfks. Except the "Jungkook" was only my friend and we just got stoned and vibed, and instead of painting a naked woman, one time during our studio sessions he painted an abstract rendition of my "soul" but it really just looked like a thumb I'm ngl. All my friends said he was in love with me cuz who paints portraits of someone's soul??

Soundtrack: Paint Me Naked - Ten

“Jungkook, I don’t think this is gonna work.”

“Let me try.” 

Your eyes strained to see the boy standing in front of you, but the room was pitch black. It was good, though. You’d purposefully blocked out as much light as you possibly could. It had been a surprisingly difficult feat, mostly because the two of you hadn’t thought this through very well. A rolled up towel was shoved against the bottom of the bedroom door to keep the light from the hallway out. Blackout curtains had already been drawn over the windows when you got there, so that made the window problem easier. Luckily, you’d remembered to unplug the digital clock sitting on the nightstand next to the bed, the last piece of light you could have some control over putting out. 

To make things weirder, you were in Jungkook’s parents’ room. 

“It’s the darkest room in the house!” he’d insisted and you hadn’t objected because, well, it seemed on brand for the way the entire night was going. 

With arms stretched out, your fingers pressed into something bumpy and hard. You could hear Jungkook’s breathing beside you and a light laugh alerted to you that he was much closer than you’d initially thought. After a quick prod, fingers gliding slightly upward, you realized you were grabbing his abdomen. The hard ripples you’d felt were his toned abs beneath his thin t-shirt. 

“Sorry,” you whispered, though there was no need to be quiet. Jungkook’s hands wrapped around yours and took the objects you had clutched between them: scissors and an undeveloped film roll. 

Drawing your hands back to your side, you waited in silence. The sound of metal scraping against plastic was the only sound in the room aside from the quiet rustle of wind blowing through leaves outside. You don’t think you’d ever felt silence before until that moment. It was electric, a pulsing sizzle that sparked up your fingertips and jolted into your heart as you stood beside Jungkook. The harmony your breathing had fallen into made the moment feel far more intimate than you’d expected. Why was standing in the dark with someone so intimate? 

“Fuck,” Jungkook muttered, and you heard what you imagined was him stabbing the scissors into the film. 

“Oh my god, please don’t cut yourself, okay? I don’t know where the hospital is from here.”

His only response was another quiet laugh and you knew from the sound that his nose was doing that scrunched up thing that it always did when he was making fun of you. After only a few months of knowing Jungkook he was certainly very comfortable teasing you. He was pretty comfortable with you in general, you were beginning to realize. 

And why were you here? Standing in the dark with a boy you barely knew from a shared university class, one who towered over you in height as well as being much larger than you physically. Trying to pop open film because Jungkook somehow thought you could actually develop this film without having access to a real darkroom. Sure, all throughout high school you’d taken film photography classes. You had the development process memorized by heart, from the length of time the film needed to soak to the different types of chemicals needed and what order you were supposed to submerge the prints in. You’d even emailed your old high school teacher to double check. 

But doing all of that in Jungkook’s parents’ house? You knew it wasn’t going to work, but the guy had insisted on you helping him. Was it concerning that he had all these chemicals stored in a plastic tub in his closet? Maybe. And was it the safest decision to use scissors to pop open the film instead of the proper tool (which Jungkook had forgotten to order off of Amazon in advance)? Absolutely not. 

On top of that, no one knew where you were; you’d simply told your roommates that you were going to hang out with the guy from your university poetry class. 

“Jungkook? The weird one with all the tattoos and piercings?” Your roommate, Amiriah, had asked.  

“He’s not that weird.” 

“Y/N, he wrote a poem about eating pussy for a class assignment. You said so yourself. Please tell me how that’s a normal thing to do.” 

“And didn’t he have to read it outloud to the class because he turned it in late?” Now it was time for Courtney to pipe in from her position lounging on the couch, an episode of Love Connection paused on the TV screen. 

“Okay, yes, he did do both those things. But I swear he’s actually really sweet. He’s just misunderstood.” 

Courtney had launched a pillow at you, though the object zoomed past your head and landed against the refrigerator, knocking down multiple of Amiriah’s magnets. Much to her dismay. 

“Maybe we should take a break.” 

Jungkook’s voice brought you back to reality, or at least some semblance of it. You couldn’t understand how someone could have such a soft voice. Listening to Jungkook speak was like floating on a cloud. His cadence was a gentle caress against your skin, a sound that could easily flutter your eyes and lull you to sleep. It didn’t matter what he was saying; everything sounded better coming from Jungkook’s mouth. 

You nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t see you. A few moments and a bit of shuffling later, the lights sprung on. Your eyes instantly shut and slowly pried open again from the blaring brightness. 

The poor film looked like it had been mauled by a bear, but it was still somehow intact. Jungkook slipped it into his pocket for safekeeping and turned to look at you. He had this thing about eye contact that really made you uncomfortable. When he met your gaze, he looked straight into your eyes, as if he was looking into you rather than at you. 

“Do you want a drink?” 

His question caught you off guard, but he was already picking up the towel from the floor to open the bedroom door. Without answering, you followed him through the house and into the kitchen. You stood in the doorway, hands clasped in front of you, eyes following his large frame navigating the kitchen cabinets. 

“All my parents have is rosé, is that okay?” 

He uncorked the chilled bottle and poured each of you a glass. Then he did something that your roommates could add to the list of weird things they’d developed for him. 

He sat on the floor. 

You stared at him with your lips slightly parted, unsure if you were supposed to follow him. There was an entire kitchen table with multiple chairs. Why was he sitting on the floor with his back leaned against the doorframe? Bottle of rosé sitting on the tile next to him. He looked up at you with impossibly soft doe eyes and you couldn’t just stand there with your glass. So, you slowly sank to the floor, your shoulders brushing against each other as you sat next to him. 

“Y’know, I just realized the film you have is color film.” You spoke slowly, hating that you were about to burst his bubble. “You wouldn’t be able to develop it at home, anyway. The chemicals you bought are for black and white film, and color film has to be developed using heat.” 

“Damn.” Jungkook tipped his head back to take a very deep drink of his wine. 

“We gave a valiant effort, though.” You flashed him a small smile and the grin you got in return made your face grow hot. 

Your roommates weren’t really wrong. Jungkook didn’t have the best reputation on your university campus. There were rumors that he sold drugs (marijuana and acid, specifically) and had gang affiliations. He was quiet, kept to himself, and didn’t seem to have a whole lot of friends aside from a few guys who were equally just as questionable. Yes, you knew he’d gotten arrested the day before spring break started for getting into a fight with a guy on campus, but based on what your friends had told you, it was definitely the other guy’s fault. 

You’d also heard he had great head game, but that was a whole other thing. You just had a really hard time believing all the bad things people said about him, even when he’d admitted to a lot of the rumors being true. 

“A gang tried to recruit me when I was fresh outta high school, but I like selling on my own. Can’t trust people for shit.” 

He’d said it so casually, and you wondered what was wrong with you for finding a conversation about dealing drugs attractive. 

The thing your roommates, and a lot of other people, didn’t understand was that there was more to Jungkook than whatever dumb rumors got spread around (real or not). He was an exceptional writer. His poetry weaved in elements of hip hop, almost sounding like eloquent and lyrical rap lyrics rather than your typical stuffy poem that other students in your class tried to pass off as profound. He didn’t shy away from writing about mental health, sex, relationships, and loss. Everything he put down was raw, and you liked that it made other people in the class uncomfortable. Jungkook wasn’t afraid to be himself. Wasn’t that what art was supposed to be all about? 

And he was artistic in every way. Not only did he write well, but he was obviously into photography, and he also dabbled in multimedia sculpture. But the most impressive was probably his paintings. You’d seen the work he’d posted on Instagram, and during one of your hangouts he’d told you about how he’d been commissioned by the city to work on a public mural with another local artist. 

Very few people knew these things about Jungkook. They saw the tattoos, the piercings, the occasional blunt wedged between his lips, and they painted him in a way that was so distorted it annoyed you. 

“Thanks for helping me, though. I appreciate you.” 

You bit your bottom lip into your mouth to suppress another smile, instead opting to simply nod your head and cover up any expression by taking a drink. 

At this point, the two of you had been hanging out at least once a week. Usually you just sat outside on his parents’ front porch and smoked and talked about life. His parents seemed to always be out of town, and although Jungkook lived across the hall from you in the university dorms, he stayed at his parents’ house a lot to take care of their dog. 

It felt weird, though, hanging out with Jungkook. It was like all your interactions could only happen during those moments; otherwise, he didn’t talk to you when you saw him around campus. Even in your advanced poetry class, he would lock eyes with you across the room, but he never said a word. 

And it didn’t help that he was best friends and roommates with Kim Taehyung, the campus casanova who’d fucked you like you were the only girl in the world for an entire semester until you saw him cuddled up at a party with some other girl who didn’t even go to your university. The next day he was standing at your dorm asking for his skateboard back, weaving some lie about how summer break was the time to be single and have fun, but that he would “never forget” the fun times you’d had. 

Then Taehyung got a girlfriend. 

So maybe you were a little bit bitter over how things ended with Taehyung (and maybe you’d spent the entire summer crying yourself to sleep at night and aimlessly scrolling through Tinder, looking for anyone who might replace him and finding nothing). But the worst part was knowing that Taehyung had probably talked to Jungkook about you, and you had no idea what he might have said. 

“Hopefully the film is still okay,” you said after a moment, trying to pull yourself out of the cyclical negative thoughts you were often consumed by. 

You finished your glass, shaking your head at Jungkook’s offer for more rosé. He nodded, pushing himself up to stand and reached out to take your empty glass. 

You watched him from the floor as he washed the glasses in the sink. Your eyes lingered just a bit too long on the way his forearm muscles flexed while he cleaned, a few veins popping out along the back of his hands and the inside of his arm. Tattoos and piercings hadn’t ever been your thing, not that you didn’t appreciate the allure of body modifications. You’d just found yourself going after boys who looked polished, good boys to take home to mom. Jungkook had been the one to initiate your friendship, asking to hang out while you worked on your poems or read the many poetry collections due for class. You’d be a liar if you said his sudden interest in you hadn’t sparked your own interest in him.

Just one glass of wine was enough to make you a bit lightheaded, and Jungkook was a heavy pourer, apparently. 

“You good?” 

You blinked and stared into Jungkook’s face. He was drying off his hands now, watching you with an amused look on his face. 

“Umm, yeah. Just a lightweight,” you said with a breathy laugh that sounded a little too forced for your liking. Jungkook didn’t seem to notice. 

“You wanna go to my studio with me? The one on campus?” 

You looked down at your phone, a few text messages popping up from your roommates demanding to know where you were. Swiping to clear the notifications, you looked up at Jungkook and gave him a small smile. 

“Sure.” 

-

“That thing so fire baby, no propane. Got good pussy, girl, can I be frank? To keep it 100, girl, I ain’t no saint.” 

Music came blaring out of the car’s speakers at an alarmingly high volume, causing you to exhale a startled shout. Jungkook quickly lunged to turn down the volume and accidentally honked the car’s horn when his shoulder leaned against the steering wheel. 

“Shit, sorry.” 

“Talk about fucking sensory overload, fuck,” you mumbled, heart still dazed in your chest. 

“It was actually nice outside for once. I was whippin’ with the windows down, so the music’s gotta be louder.” 

All he was getting from you was rolled eyes and the sound of your seatbelt clicking into place. 

Jungkook turned around to look over his shoulder as he backed out of the driveway. He grabbed onto the back of your seat to position himself; once again, you found yourself eyeing his arms, exploring the exposed tattoos. It kind of pissed you off how hot it was when guys drove backwards. What was evolutionarily advantageous about that attraction? 

“If you wanna change it, I got a couple CDs.” 

Jungkook motioned to the middle console. You flipped through them, finding the album that was currently playing. You’d recognize it anywhere; he was one of your favorite musicians. 

“Bryson Tiller?” You turned the CD case over in your hand, eyes scanning the tracklist on the back. “You listen to sex music while you drive? And off a CD instead of Bluetooth, no less?”

Jungkook barked out a laugh, all teeth and crinkled eyes that you could just barely make out as the streetlights streaked over his face. 

“Yeah, I guess I do. You got a problem with Bryson?” His fingers lazily tapped against the steering wheel to the relaxed beat of Don’t - which happened to be your favorite song on the album. “This car is twenty-one years old. You’re lucky we’re not sitting here listening to cassettes.” 

“Who doesn’t like Bryson Tiller? That’s the baby-making music of our generation,” you said with a laugh. “Honestly, I can’t believe this song came out in fuckin’ 2015. Why does that feel like such a long time ago?” 

Jungkook sat in the driver’s seat with his legs spread as much as possible; this position was what had made you realize just how thick and nice his thighs really were. Plus, he drove with one hand on top of the steering wheel, left elbow bent slightly. He usually let his right hand rest against his thigh, though sometimes he held onto the gear shift in between the two of you. 

There was rarely any traffic in your college town, and especially not at 10pm on a Tuesday night. The two of you fell silent, Bryson Tiller’s soulful lyrics swirling through the car in the absence of conversation. Jungkook was typically a man of few words. You’d grown accustomed to carrying the conversation. With most people, that would have bothered you, but with Jungkook it was different. You knew he was paying attention when you talked; you could see it in the way the corners of his mouth twitched when you said something dorky (which was, apparently, all the time). 

And when he did have something to say, it was always worth the wait. 

“You’ve got good taste,” Jungkook said after driving a few blocks. “Guess I should probably add him to my sex playlist.”

Before you had time to process his comment Jungkook was pulling into the east parking lot of your university, the part of campus that was off to the side and only held art-related facilities. 

He led you to an unmarked backdoor of the building closest to the parking lot. Pushing the door open, he held it for you with a sweep of his hand. 

“Ladies first, noona.” 

Scowling at the honorific, you still obliged, entering a long hallway. The walls were bare, just an eggshell white, a few black scuff marks here and there, as if someone had been carrying something large and struggled to fit it through the narrow space. Jungkook maneuvered past you to lead the way to another unmarked door. 

The studio was a lot larger than you expected. One side of the room had a large rack of painted canvases to dry. You turned to inspect the left side of the room, finding multiple easels with additional canvases of varying sizes, most blank or seemingly half-finished. A rather worn-looking couch was placed in the middle of the room. Beside it was a coffee table and a Bluetooth speaker. (So Jungkook did know about modern technology.) Paint-covered tarps protected much of the concrete floor, and there were paint buckets and other supplies scattered in every corner. The entire room was pure chaos, but it seemed like there was an organization to it that only Jungkook knew. 

“So… yeah. This is my studio.” Jungkook closed the door behind you and locked it. 

Your heart skipped a beat at his action, but you swallowed down the spike of fear that had threatened to bubble up inside of you. You’d spent plenty of alone time with Jungkook. There was nothing to worry about. 

“I had to practically beg the school to let me have my own space since I’m not an art major, but they eventually let up,” Jungkook continued with a shrug. 

You were impressed, honestly. Jungkook wasn’t known for being the most reliable student academically; it was surprising they’d given him such privileges. 

“I like it,” you said simply, eyes still roaming the space. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do now. Studio art wasn’t really your thing, poetry was. 

Luckily, Jungkook had a knack for reading your mind. 

“You can sit on the couch if you want. I got a project due tomorrow morning, so I’m gonna work on it. But if you wanna paint, just lemme know.” He scrolled through his phone as he spoke, and eventually more R&B music started playing from the speaker. 

“Tomorrow morning? JK, it’s fucking 10:30.” 

You stared at him with your head tilted to the side in disbelief, but you were only met with another shrug and a grin. Living on the edge. King of Procrastination, Jeon Jungkook. You were already getting secondhand stress. 

With a quiet hum to himself as the music took over, it was clear to you that Jungkook had switched to his serious side. He began prepping one of his easels with various paint brushes and paints. Dragging a heavy-looking but small filing cabinet next to the easel, he used the surface to store his supplies while he worked. 

You flopped onto the couch, adjusting so you could have a clear view of Jungkook. He looked cute in his jeans and black hoodie, a blunt pencil tucked behind his ear. His lips pouted slightly as he planned what he was going to do with his painting. Occasionally the pencil would be plucked from his ear and a few sketches appeared on the canvas, too light for you to see what they were from your position on the couch. 

The vibration of your phone tore your eyes away from Jungkook’s figure. It was no surprise that your roommate group text was blowing up. 

Courtnayyy 😘 [10:00] BITCH WHERE ARE YOU A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:01] pls tell me the weirdo didn’t murder u Courtnayyy 😘 [10:04] If he did can I have your Mac Miller poster?  A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:15] court how tf would she approve of that if she’s dead? she ain’t gonna see this shit Courtnayyy 😘 [10:18] Ouija board A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:25] stfu 🔫 A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:25] Y/N you better answer ur fucking phone right now A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:40] hellooooooooooooooooooo

You let out a sigh loud enough for Jungkook to look over at you, eyebrows furrowed. 

“My roommates think you killed me.”

Jungkook grinned and turned back to his easel with a shake of his head. You’d expected him to say something, but then the reminder that Jungkook was… unconventional slithered into your mind. 

[10:45] I’m alive. Can you pls stop blowing up my phone now? 💀 Courtnayyy 😘 [10:46] FUCKING FINALLY  A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:47] what are you doing?? [10:50] We’re just hanging out at his studio. I’ll probably leave soon

You tossed your phone next to you on the couch and lifted your arms into the air to stretch. It was rather warm in the studio and the smooth music of whatever playlist Jungkook had on was making you feel sleepy. What kind of lame college student were you? 

“I was serious about what I said.” Jungkook didn’t look at you while he painted, too focused on mixing the right shade of brown. 

“About what?”

“You can paint if you want. All the paint and brushes are in the cabinet.” 

You chewed on your bottom lip, eyes flitting from the filing cabinet next to Jungkook to the easel off to the side with a blank canvas. What if whatever you painted looked like shit? You had no idea what you were doing. 

But when did you ever get to paint in your adult life?

Pushing yourself off the couch you approached Jungkook to start rummaging in the drawers for supplies. You were stopped in your tracks, however, the moment your eyes landed on his painting. Considering that much time hadn’t passed, Jungkook was far along in his work. You came face to face with a woman, or at least the naked body of a woman. She was painted in soft earthy tones, curves accentuated by what looked like a gold silk ribbon that wrapped around her. The painting was certainly abstract because she was missing a head and her limbs weren’t finished, but just having her strong torso and thighs, and a long regal neck, somehow made her feel complete. 

“That’s beautiful, JK. She looks so realistic… How can you do all those little details so quickly?” You spoke quietly, desperately wishing you could touch the canvas. 

“Painting nudity is easy.” Another classic Jungkook shrug. “That’s why it’s so overdone. There’s nothing more beautiful than humans in their purest state, right? We’re the original art.” 

You would have never considered nudity to be pure, but you liked Jungkook’s analysis. Society saw nudity as all about sex. Despite his depiction of breasts and genitalia, Jungkook’s painting was a reflection and appreciation of a body. 

You wondered if it was anyone’s body in particular. 

The thought soured your mood a bit, and you quickly returned your focus to finding the supplies you needed. Satisfied, you took up the easel beside Jungkook. What the fuck were you going to paint? Especially now that you had this beautiful work blooming next to you. 

“Don’t think about it so much. Just go for it.” 

There was Jungkook reading your mind again. 

You weren’t sure how much time passed with the two of you working silently. At first you’d considered doing something abstract, but eventually you felt compelled to do something a bit more realistic. You’d retrieved your phone (ignoring your roommates’ texts again) to pull up a photo for reference as you painted. 

After a while Jungkook lifted his finished painting and carried it to the rack to dry. By the time he had completed his painting, you were putting your final touches on yours - one that was far more simplistic. You found it entertaining, though. 

“Who is that?” 

You’d been so absorbed in getting those final details perfected that you hadn’t noticed Jungkook standing right behind you. You jumped slightly and that elicited a chuckle from the boy. 

“It’s a portrait of Bad Bunny.” Your greatest celebrity crush. 

“He’s cute. You did a good job considering you looked so scared to start.” His comment left your cheeks burning. You’d hoped it hadn’t been so obvious, but Jungkook was too observant for his own good (and for yours, too). “Maybe I should hire you as my assistant.”

“Thanks. It’s not as good as yours, though.” 

Jungkook waved you off and the action made him realize he had a good amount of paint on his hands. Rather than find a towel, he simply rubbed his hands against his thighs. You watched him, eyes lingering on the way his thighs stretched the tight material of his jeans. Looking up to return to his face you were met with a smirk. You were doing a real shitty job at being subtle, apparently. 

You chose not to say anything and focused your attention on finishing your painting, not wanting Jungkook to be waiting for you longer than he needed to. He sat down on the couch, now distracted by his phone. 

“So,” you spoke as you lifted up your finished painting, following Jungkook’s instructions to put it on the drying rack. “What was the inspiration for your painting?” 

Was it a bold question? You were trying to play it off like you weren’t going to cling to whatever his answer was. 

Jungkook patted the space next to him to encourage you to sit down. Once you were sitting next to him, your body turned slightly to face him, Jungkook leaned forward. His face was mere inches from yours and you could feel his breath tickle your cheek. He watched you with those brown doe eyes, such an innocent feature on an otherwise devious-looking face. The smirk that formed on his lips strongly contrasted the sweetness of his eyes. 

Jungkook’s tongue poked out to play with his lip ring before he answered your question. It was impossible to look away from his lips, and you thought you felt your heart stop. 

“The deadline.” 

The smirk grew deeper as he pulled away, running a hand through his hair. You were more than disappointed, feeling yourself deflate and finally realizing you’d been holding your breath. Your shoulders slumped slightly, but you managed to mask the reason for your disappointment by pretending you were disappointed in him. 

“Boy, you need to work on your assignments earlier so you can come up with something good,” you huffed, crossing your arms against your chest. 

“Was it not good?” He grinned, a cocky twinkle in his eyes, no longer doe-shaped but narrowed in mirth. “Come on, let me drop you off. It’s almost 2.” 

“Fuck, I have an 8am.” 

With a quick check on your phone you saw that it was indeed almost 2am. How had you spent almost four hours in the studio without realizing it? Nevermind the fact that you’d spent another three or four hanging out with Jungkook before you’d even gotten to the studio. 

“I’d skip if I was you.” 

Jungkook led you through the art building and to his car, making sure that the music didn’t startle you half to death when he started the car this time. 

“Unlike you, I’m a good student, thanks.” 

It wasn’t a terrible dig because you knew Jungkook enough to know he didn’t give a shit. All he’d do was give you a small smile and melt your heart with the confusion of how it was possible for someone to look both so soft and so dangerous. 

Your dorm was on the other side of campus, so the drive over was quick. But rather than drop you off at the sidewalk, Jungkook pulled into the parking lot, much to your surprise. 

“I thought you were staying over at your parents’?” 

Jungkook kept the car running, but he unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned back in his chair.

“Me and Tae are gonna go smoke. I got this new strain of indica we wanna try.”

He didn’t look at you when he spoke, instead facing forward to peer out the window. Once he brought up weed, you realized you could smell the remnants of weed smoke in Jungkook’s car, partially masked by air freshener. 

At the mention of Jungkook’s roommate you felt your stomach drop. The feeling was only intensified when you followed Jungkook’s gaze to see a figure with long legs and broad shoulders make their way down the sidewalk, heading right in your direction. You felt ice shoot through your veins and panic settle into your chest. 

“Oh,” you squeaked out. You needed to escape, but you couldn’t force your hands to unbuckle yourself and open the door. 

“Do you wanna come with us?” Jungkook took your lack of movement as a desire to get high. 

You looked at Jungkook with an open mouth, but nothing came out. And even if you could speak, Taehyung was already flinging the car door open. 

“Oh, shit, Y/N. I didn’t even see you there.” Taehyung leaned against the car door, eyes sweeping over your small figure as you attempted to look as relaxed as possible. 

Did he lick his lips or were you just imagining that? 

“Want me to sit in the back?” 

Taehyung leaned down so he could poke his head into the car and talk to Jungkook right over you. The position gave you a perfect view of his neck and his collarbones peeking out from beneath the silk button-up shirt he was wearing, the first few buttons undone as usual. His cologne smelled like cedar and you could faintly smell something fruity, likely the strawberry-flavored vape he smoked. 

All of that was enough to send you mentally screaming into the void. 

“ThanksJungkookIgottago,” you sputtered, doing your best not to touch Taehyung as you moved around him to get out.

“Y/N!” 

You ignored Jungkook’s call, not daring to look back. Despite your exhaustion you took the stairs two at a time until you made it to your dorm, nearly dropping your keys as you unlocked the door. The kitchen and living room were dark, so you knew your roommates were asleep - or at least in their own rooms. You didn’t even bother to do your nighttime routine, opting to strip down to your underwear and collapse into your bed face-first. 

Darkness and silence brought you no solitude; quite honestly, they had the opposite effect. All you had in your head was Taehyung’s face… in your ears, his voice… in your nostrils, his smell. 

Groaning, you flipped onto your back and grabbed your phone to put on your favorite thunderstorm white noise playlist. In the middle of picking the perfect sound, your phone buzzed with a text. 

Jungkook (Poetry) [2:15] you good?

You bit your lip, not wanting to leave him hanging so late, but also knowing if you went down this rabbithole you’d never fall asleep. 

[2:16] I’m fine

Your phone vibrated almost immediately, but you forced yourself to put it away. Whatever Jungkook had to say could wait until the morning. Or until never, because right now you never wanted to speak to another human ever again.

-

Jungkook (Poetry) [2:16] you don’t have to lie to me Jungkook (Poetry) [3:02] lying destroys our intrinsic value as human beings by corrupting our ability to make rational choices and have free will Jungkook (Poetry) [3:03] immanuel kant said that

You didn’t realize you’d be hit with a philosophical lecture the moment you woke up, but then you remembered that Jungkook had gone smoking with Taehyung. The two of them got all philosophical when they were high, as if they really could achieve some kind of superior knowledge. 

They were idiots. 

“Oh my god, when the fuck did you get home last night?” 

Anyone speaking that loud and harshly so early in the morning was an assailant. You glared at Courtney, brushing past her to get to the bathroom. You shouldn’t have been surprised that the girl stayed outside the bathroom door as she waited for you to finish. 

“It was definitely after 1am ‘cause that’s when we went to bed,” she kept on talking even when you turned the shower on. “What could you guys have possibly been doing that whole time? Did you hook up?” 

“No.”

“What?” Courtney strained to hear you over the sound of the high-pressure water. 

“I said, no!” 

It was ridiculous that you were standing there, rubbing your naked body down with lavender exfoliating soap, while you discussed your alleged hook up with a guy you barely knew. 

You thanked the Lord Almighty that your schedule didn’t line up with your roommates on Wednesdays, or else you would have had to suffer Courtney and Amiriah’s interrogations the whole day. 

Instead you sleepily dragged yourself through two morning classes and a work shift at the university library before you’d eventually have to face Jungkook head-on. 

-

Your Advanced Poetry class was small enough that all the students could sit around a large table together. The small, intimate class size made it easier for collaboration and made workshops feel a bit less ruthless. You’d gotten to the point that you could read anonymous poems from each of your classmates and know exactly who wrote what. You were like a little family who met every Wednesday evening for two hours and poured your thoughts, dreams, fears, and goals into each other with every written piece. This class was going to be what broke your heart when the semester was over; you could already feel yourself missing it. 

“Alright, y’all, we’re going to workshop the imitation poems from the exercise last week.”

You felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. Whatever else Professor Mendez was saying didn’t compute; she sounded like she was speaking underwater and all you could do was shift your eyes to look at Jungkook across the table from you. You hadn’t expected him to be already looking at you nor for him to hold your gaze until you quickly looked away. 

The poem you’d written for the exercise was about Taehyung. 

You’d thought only your professor was ever going to see it. And now she was calling on you to read yours aloud first. No one else would know who it was about, but you knew Jungkook would know. 

“Y/N?” 

Professor Mendez looked at you, her star pupil, with an encouraging smile. You swallowed, avoiding Jungkook’s gaze though you felt him staring. If you kept the piece of paper on the table in front of you, you wouldn’t risk showing everyone that your hands were slightly trembling. And then you opened your mouth. 

I SAW YOU ONCE IN A FEVER DREAM  (After Kaveh Akbar) I saw you once in a fever dream shirtless  swaddling me in a hammock hanging from cedar trees   When you smoke it gets stuck   in your hair Save it for later The smell of marijuana   and strawberry vapes     lingered in my clothes     In another fever   dream you were my mother The doctor asked if I am  allergic to any medications and I should   have said yes but it is only you   I have felt love flow through me I have never felt   it given My friend once told me  there is only so much you can do   At what point am I the problem   Sometimes I stare at the wall and peel the nails  off of my fingers for every time you broke me  Somehow it feels better this way  

It was depressing, pathetic even. Sure, you’d imitated Kaveh Akbar’s unique writing style to a T, but now you looked stupid for writing about a man you’d never even dated, who had unofficially “dumped” you last spring semester. Jungkook had to know. Unless he was completely oblivious (which was honestly likely, when you really thought about it). And maybe you were being too cocky, assuming some guy who you meant nothing to would care or even pay attention to the fact that his friend had fucked you into a broken heart. 

You sat with tight lips as the class discussed your poem, a few people put off by your use of space on the page, others praising your unique way of formatting the stanzas. Jungkook never spoke, but he never did until the end of class when Professor Mendez called him out for being silent. Then he would provide feedback for whoever had gone before him, his opinion usually directly contradicting whatever your professor said. She knew he wasn’t being defiant, and she welcomed his creative challenge of the status quo. But sometimes he was a bit much. 

“Well, Mr. Jungkook. Let’s hear yours.” 

You could feel the entire room both tense and lean forward, as if scared but also unimaginably eager for whatever it was they were about to receive. 

“I didn’t finish, but I can read what I have. It’s a prose poem.” 

UNTITLED I met her in the evaporated residue of a midnight bong rip. Among glimmers of artificially-simulated worlds, of over-saturated hues. Hurried hues of a purple-pink bruise, bloom, slippery between thighs. Tongue flicks. Slide. These things only happen behind closed doors. An eternity of almosts, she likes to wear my hand as a choker. Drag me whole into desire, into pink folds and broken promises. Drip slick slow stroke glide and move inside, eat feast thrive. Beat it up every time. Pulsate. Pulsate. Own it. My hands on your hips. Blindfold over your eyes. Selfish fuck. I am a decomposing mind; her body whispers otherwise. 

Jungkook could have written a poem about dog shit and the way he recited it would have been breathtaking. It didn’t matter that his lines were verging on pornographic for an academic setting; simply the way the alliteration flowed like honey from his mouth was enough to send shivers down anyone’s spine. The words came out like a gentle lullaby of filth, a smooth mantra, a promise of sin. It was no wonder the classroom fell silent. Even Professor Mendez stared at Jungkook with an unreadable expression on her face. 

“Thank you, Jungkook,” she said after a moment. 

He nodded politely and slouched into his seat again. 

Professor Mendez looked around the room for the first volunteer to take a stab at critiquing Jungkook’s poem. Only a brave soul could manage, and you were determined to keep your mouth shut. You could already visualize the way your classmates were going to gossip about this once class was over. You wondered how long it would take for Courtney and Amiriah to find out. 

“Who would like to go first?” 

It appeared the class had very few critiques, likely because no one wanted to dive too deeply into the abstract and overtly-sexual writing that had been. 

Professor Mendez went on a mini rant about the importance of knowing how to keep the flow of a prose poem that somehow derailed into a story about her new puppy. Perhaps someone had gotten her going to kill the last few minutes of class until it was 8pm and she was forced to let the group of you go into the night. 

You always managed to be the last person leaving the classroom every Wednesday night. Usually it was due to your prolonged conversations with Professor Mendez, the two of you gushing over a new poetry collection or the latest episode of a TV show. Jungkook, on the other hand, was typically the first to leave. Likely to go find his little crew of delinquents to do drugs with or whatever else they got themselves into. 

Except apparently not today. 

As you waved a goodbye to Professor Mendez, you headed down the empty hallway fully aware of the second pair of shoes echoing in the silence along with yours. Your insides were still scrambled from the series of exceptionally unfortunate events that had involved Kim Taehyung in the past twenty-four hours. You had no desire to entertain Jungkook, especially not after him staring you down all of class. And reading that fucking poem. 

“Are you really gonna ignore me?” 

You squeezed the straps of your backpack and stopped in front of the door to leave the academic building. If you acted bothered it would make you more suspicious. And it would let Kim Taehyung continue to rule your mind. You were better than this… 

So you turned around to face the doe-eyed boy and tried not to imagine his hand squeezing your throat. 

“I’m not ignoring you.” You cocked your head to one side in feigned confusion. Jungkook met your look with a small pout. 

“I’m sorry if I did something to upset you yesterday.” 

So, he didn’t know. Either that, or he was lying. But didn’t Immanuel Kant say lying is bad? You did everything in your power not to scowl to yourself. 

“I’m fine, Jungkook. I swear.” You let out an irritated sigh, casting a glance behind your shoulder as you heard thunder ripple through the air outside. You’d obviously forgotten to check the weather that morning, looking down at your t-shirt and shorts. 

“Okay…” He eyed you skeptically, but he didn’t want to push you further and threaten pushing you away completely. “Can I walk with you?” 

“Of course.” He lived literally across the hall from you. You could open your door and be face-to-face with his. 

“Okay… Can I give you a hug?” 

You rolled your eyes so far and deep inside your skull it was a surprise they didn’t detach and disappear somewhere. It wasn’t fair that you were taking out your frustrations on Jungkook simply because your ego was hurt. That self-awareness was what made you nod your head with your arms outstretched. 

Jungkook enveloped you in his large frame, the side of your face pressed against his chest. One of his arms wrapped around your waist, and he held the back of your head in his free hand. There was something about Jungkook’s closeness that caught you off guard. Perhaps it was because this was the first time you’d ever hugged each other; you’d never been this physical with each other at all, actually. You weren’t much of the hugging type, anyway. 

Jungkook’s warmth made you settle into his embrace for much longer than you’d expected. He felt soft, safe. Even the chemical smell of paint that had seeped into his hoodie was welcoming. Despite the rumbling of a heavy thunderstorm outside, you could still hear his heart beat beneath you. Something about that realization made you pull away from him suddenly. It was just too… close. 

He stared at you with a wrinkled brow and the pout was slowly coming back, but he stayed silent. You couldn’t meet his eyes. 

“Ready?”

 With raised shoulders you braced yourself for the downpour. 

By the time the two of you had sprinted across the courtyard, you were completely soaked. You felt your earlier frustrations melt with the water droplets gliding down your arms as you leaned against Jungkook’s equally-soaked body. He was nearly doubled over in laughter, shoulder pressed against the wall next to the front door of his dorm room. 

“You look like a wet cat,” he teased. 

“Oh yeah? Well you look like a wet dog.” Your poor hair was going to get embarrassingly frizzy if you didn’t take care of it immediately. 

Jungkook flashed you an evil grin and violently shook his head, sending water spraying all over. 

“Jungkook, stop!” you hollered, giving him a shove. “I feel so gross already.” 

You twisted around to fish out your dorm key from your backpack, but your fingers scraped the bottom of the pocket. No key. 

“Fuck,” you cursed, setting your backpack on the ground to search through more pockets. Giving up on that possibility, you checked the pockets of your shorts. Nothing. 

Unlocking your phone, your thumb hovered over your roommate group text, unsure if you should interrupt Amiriah and Courtney. It was a little after 8pm… Both of your roommates would be in their weekly sorority meeting that usually lasted at least an hour, if not two. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I… locked myself out.” What a fucking rookie mistake. What was this, freshman year? “I’m pretty sure I left my keys on the kitchen table.” 

Now you were stranded in your hallway, cold and soaking wet. You could go downstairs to ask your RA to let you in, but she was a bitch. 

“You’re a mess. Come on, I’ve got clothes for you.” 

He didn’t give you the opportunity to protest; instead, he stepped inside his dorm without even so much as a look over his shoulder at you. 

Apparently your desire to be warm and dry was stronger than your fear of entering the Dorm Room from Hell. You’d never been in Jungkook’s dorm before, mostly because you didn’t want to run into Taehyung. 

The layout was the same as yours: full kitchen with adjacent living room, long hall with individual bedrooms that ended with a bathroom. The decorations practically screamed “guys who smoke weed” considering the giant marijuana leaf tapestry hanging in the living room and the multicolored string lights that hung on the ceiling casting a psychedelic glow throughout the dorm. An incense that smelled interestingly like the ocean was burning on the coffee table. 

You were pretty sure burning incense wasn’t allowed on university property. Then again, neither was smoking weed in the parking lot, but Jungkook and his roommates did whatever they wanted. 

“Are you just gonna stand there or…?” 

Jungkook led the way down the hall, you trailing a bit behind him as you continued being nosy. As you passed the first bedroom, the door suddenly swung open, causing you to yelp when you were face-to-face with a rather grumpy looking man with shockingly green hair. The bleary look of his eyes told you he’d been asleep. 

“Why the fuck are you wet?” 

You did a double take, shocked at the roughness of the question from a stranger. Before you could answer, Jungkook was pulling you forward by the wrist. 

“Hyung, I went to the grocery store today. There’s tangerines on the counter.” 

The green-haired roommate grumbled a thank you and shot straight to the kitchen. 

“Just ignore Yoongi,” Jungkook whispered, stopping in front of his bedroom. “He’s a fifth-year senior and probably ready to burn the entire university down.” 

Jungkook’s bedroom was the exact opposite of what you’d expected. After seeing the chaos of his art studio, you’d thought his bedroom would be much of the same. Instead you were met with a simple, organized room. No clutter, no mess. Everything had its place, not an art supply in sight. Peaking over his shoulder, you saw even his dresser drawers were organized, each article of clothing neatly folded. That was likely why Jungkook was able to quickly pick out a t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts to hand you. 

“Oh, and this,” he tossed you a towel, as well. “You can use the bathroom. I’ll be in here.” 

“Thank you,” you said with an appreciative nod. 

The skin on your fingers had wrinkled up from the rain and you pressed them into the towel to find some relief. Who knew the feeling of wearing dry clothes would be so sweet? You took your time in the bathroom, rubbing down every inch of your body. Unfortunately, even your underwear and bra were soaked. If you put on dry clothes over them, the water would surely bleed into the fabric. So you opted for going commando, to your dismay. At least Jungkook’s t-shirt was baggy enough that your chest wasn’t on full display, and it wasn’t like anyone would know you weren’t wearing underwear. 

You caught a look at yourself in the mirror and laughed at how ridiculous you looked. It was like you’d come out of a really bad hip-hop music video from the early 2000s, literally drowning in baggy clothes. 

“Hey Jungkook… Do you have something I could put my clothes in?” You stood in the hallway in front of Jungkook’s bedroom, wet clothes in your hands. The door was closed and you were afraid of opening it if he was still changing. 

“You look cute.” 

You instinctively squeezed your bundle of clothes, turning your head to the side at the sound of that Mother. Fucking. Annoying. Ass. Voice. 

Taehyung raised an eyebrow at you, probably utterly confused as to why you looked the way you did, standing there in his dorm. You were determined to give him absolutely nothing. 

“So, you and Jungkook, huh?” 

A small smirk twisted at the corners of his mouth. By the way he was standing with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, it was clear that he wasn’t planning on walking away. 

“We just got back from class,” you said matter-of-factly. 

You focused on a spot on the wall to the right of his head when you spoke; it made it easier to look at him without having to stare into his eyes. Even though you found absolutely nothing about your statement funny, Taehyung started laughing. It was a low chuckle that brought that stupid smirk out even more. 

“Were you coming back from class at 2 o’clock this morning, too?” 

His eyes glinted with something that made a shiver shoot down the length of your spine. 

Luckily, Jungkook’s abrupt presence swinging the bedroom door open gave you and Taehyung someone else to focus on, and you could safely escape the fact that you didn’t have a witty comeback to shove in Taehyung’s face for teasing you about Jungkook. There was nothing there with Jungkook.  

He just gave nice hugs. And you respected his creative mind. And he had great taste in music. And you felt a little bit bad for him because people didn’t seem to give him the chances he deserved. And, wow, he was standing in the doorway of his bedroom wearing form-fitting gray sweatpants that sat low on his hips and you could tell that they sat low because he was shirtless. And your eyes were skipping down the path that his happy trail was leading from his belly button down to the strings of his sweatpants that hung down just on top of where you could make out a slight bulge in the fabric. 

“Y/N?” 

You quickly tore your eyes from Jungkook’s crotch to look at his face, not missing the way Taehyung’s smirk was growing even wider. You opened your mouth, then looked down at your clothes, then back at Jungkook. 

“She wants something to put her clothes in,” Taehyung admitted once it was clear you weren’t going to cooperate. “I’m going over to Natalie’s. Oh, and I dipped into your Trojan stash. Yoongi hyung didn’t have any and you have too many.” 

He flashed Jungkook a grin and pushed himself from his leaning position on the wall. 

“Have fun,” he offered over his shoulder as he walked away, heading to go fuck his girlfriend’s brains out. 

You were going to throw up. 

“What a fucking asshole,” you breathed through gritted teeth. 

Rather than be surprised at your cursing, Jungkook gave you a sympathetic look as he took your wet clothes from you to put in a small duffle bag. 

“I’m sorry…” he said after a moment, gesturing for you to step into his bedroom. He closed the door behind you and hopped onto his bed. Just as he’d done in the studio, he patted the space next to him to get you to sit with him. 

“C’mere.” 

“Jungkook, I don’t wanna bother you anymore. You’ve had to deal with me a lot the past 24 hours.” 

“Do I look bothered?”

You gave the boy a tight shake of your head and clambered onto the bed beside him, careful to sit hunched over a bit so your chest wouldn’t be too obvious. For once, he no longer smelled like paint. Instead your senses were overwhelmed by the strong scent of his laundry detergent, something akin to the ocean breeze of the incense the roommates were burning in the living room. He leaned his back against the headboard, but he turned at an angle to look at you from the side. 

“He told me about you two…” 

You felt your body stiffen at his confession and Jungkook rushed to finish his thought. 

“Not the details or anything. But just that you were hooking up.” 

Great. This was perfect. Leave it to Taehyung to treat you like a secret yet blabber to his friends. You hadn’t even told any of your friends about Taehyung. To this day, Courtney and Amiriah had no idea. And could you even trust Jungkook when he said the details were spared? Didn’t boys love to talk about their sexual conquests? 

“I’m sorry he’s such a fuckboy.” 

“Oh, like you aren’t, too?” 

“What?!” 

Jungkook stared at you incredulously, shocked by your sudden aggression. But you couldn’t stop yourself. The anger you’d let fester in you from countless boys quite literally fucking you over was all spilling over the top. It was just unfortunate that Jungkook was there to bear the weight rather than Taehyung; but you didn’t think he was wholly innocent either. College boys were entitled and selfish. Even though Jungkook had never done anything to you, you’d seen how some girls followed after him like he was some kind of mystery meant to be solved. He never explicitly talked about his love life with you, but you only took that as a bad sign. 

“Oh don’t act brand new, Jungkook. You literally make everything about sex. Literally all your poems are about eating pussy. You made that fucking painting of a naked women. And what the fuck is that?” 

Your arm shot out to point at a painting hanging on his wall that looked vaguely like an abstract rendition of a vulva. It somehow felt like the icing on the fucked up cake. 

“It’s called artistic appreciation!”

“You’re just as gross as Taehyung and all the other guys who just use women for their bodies and don’t give a fuck about how we feel or-”  

“Stop it.” Jungkook’s voice hit you like ice. You dropped your arm down and whipped your head back around to look at him, lips falling open at the harshness of his tone. 

“Don’t compare me to Tae. You don’t know what I’m like. You barely know me at all.” 

“That’s not-” 

“I said stop, okay?” he interjected again and the glare he sent you was enough to shut you up for good. Being scolded wasn’t exactly high on your list of favorite activities, especially not from someone you considered to be a friend. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire and you struggled to swallow down your words, shame creeping up your face in waves.

“I’ve spent the last four months in that poetry class watching you write about feeling broken and alone and misunderstood. And you know what I do? I invite you over to do homework ‘cause I know none of your other friends are studying English. And I asked you to go to Morgan Parker’s book reading with me ‘cause I knew you didn’t have anyone else to go with. And I invited you to my studio ‘cause you said you wish you were good at art and I wanted you to see that you could be good if you tried.” 

At this point his cheeks had turned bright pink and his hands were bunched up into fists in his lap. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t look away from the fire in his eyes. 

“I’m not trying to make you feel like you owe me anything or to get some kind of recognition, okay? But just don’t fucking compare me to Tae when all I’ve ever tried to do is make you feel less alone. I like you, a lot. And I don’t even care that you’re not into me and you’re still caught up on him. I genuinely just want you to be happy.” 

With his monologue over, Jungkook turned his head to stare down at his hands, leaving you to peer at his profile with your mouth hanging open. 

It was the most you’d heard Jungkook speak, ever. It was also the most expressive you’ve ever seen him. Despite his passion for art, Jungkook was a very level person; he was collected even in the most stressful situations. To see him visibly shaking as he raised his voice was upsetting. 

“Jungkook…” You reached out to touch his arm and your heart broke into a million pieces when he flinched. 

“It’s whatever.” 

But it wasn’t. 

You felt like shrinking into the smallest version of yourself and disappearing. You’d spent so much time aching over the wounds Taehyung had left that you hadn’t considered what you might be missing out on, or how you might have been hurting someone else. Your head was lost in the dark cloud hanging over you; your heart couldn’t see anything in front of you. Blinded by your own pain, healing long overdue. 

You were so fucking stupid. 

“JK…” you started again. Lifting your hand, you brought your fingers to his chin and encouraged him to turn his head to look at you. “I’m so sorry. I really am. I just… It hurts? I don’t know what to do with the hurt.” 

From Taehyung and every other reckless boy. 

You let go of his face and waited, holding your breath until your lungs burned. Much to your disappointment, Jungkook maintained that cold stare, his eyes boring into yours so deeply that you felt like he was seeing something inside of you that even you didn’t know. You were afraid to look at him, shame making it difficult to hold your head up.  

“Give it to me.” 

“What?” It was your turn to cast your eyebrows down in confusion. 

“Give me the hurt. You don’t have to hold onto it anymore. I can take it.” His large hand enveloped your own, thumb running figure 8s into your skin.

You tried to speak, but you couldn’t choke out even a whisper as his words repeated in your head. Give me the hurt. Your hands shivered beneath his and you looked away quickly, feeling that horrid prickling in the corner of your eyes. You were not going to lose it just because you were touch-starved and never once in your life had someone so soundly declared their desire to take on whatever pain it was that you were feeling. You liked to keep your pain a secret, only letting out emotions through your poetry. And even then, you wanted to separate yourself from it. Writing was like putting down your emotion, letting it exist outside of you, so you could live free from it. But that didn’t always happen the way you wanted it to. 

You blinked quickly, losing focus on Jungkook’s face until you felt something hot slip down your cheek and you realized you were crying. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, embarrassment flooding your chest as you tried not to hiccup. What kind of emotional disaster were you? As Courtney would say, it wasn’t very girlboss of you. 

“I can take it.” 

This time the embers had gone out in his eyes. Instead, his irises were pleading with you. You tried to cover your face with your hands, but Jungkook held them down. He brushed your cheeks dry with his thumb, cradling your chin in his palm. 

“You deserve better, okay?” 

It was difficult to believe, but the soft gaze Jungkook held made you want to think maybe he was right. But how could it be possible for someone to want to carry your burden for you? He had no reason to. 

“I’m good now,” you said after a moment, the tears dried and your breathing returning to normal. You wanted to give him an out, let him have the opportunity to feel like he’d done his part in case he didn’t really mean what he said. You refused to let yourself fall for anymore bullshit. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“You don’t have to lie to me…” 

There was that familiar line. You felt your eyes instinctually roll and you couldn’t stop the next snarky comment from slipping past your lips, using biting humor as a defense mechanism to cope. 

“Okay, Immanuel Kant.” 

Jungkook snorted, matching your eye roll, but he gave you a smile that reached his eyes. A classic Jungkook grin that had you giving a small smile in return and making your stomach flip like a fucking gymnast. It made you slowly float back down to reality and you remembered you were sitting in a shirtless Jungkook’s bed, his body leaned forward out of concern for you, his face mere inches from yours. Hand still cradling your chin. 

“Jungkook…” 

Your voice got caught in your throat with what little breathing you could manage. Then you watched his eyes drop to your lips as you whispered his name, and the melancholic look he gave you when his gaze returned to yours made you squeeze your eyes shut with guilt. He’d confessed his interest in you and you’d completely glossed over it. Not on purpose, but somehow you were making your feelings the priority once again. And now he looked at you like you were already gone. 

“Yeah, Y/N?” You opened your eyes at his call. 

“I…” 

You wanted to tell him how you felt, you really did. But life had taught you that in relationships there was always someone who cared more, and that person always got hurt the most. You just couldn’t keep being that person. 

Jungkook studied your face for what felt like an eternity. If he was expecting you to finish your sentence, he was certainly being patient. But it was the way his mouth turned downward into a small frown and his eyes traveled off somewhere behind you that told you he’d lost hope. 

Until he was staring at you once again and his grip on your chin tightened so subtly you almost didn’t notice. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

His voice came out low and thick. The tone sent a shiver down your spine and made goosebumps rise along your forearms. You’d never heard his voice drop so deep before, nor had you seen his eyes darken the way they had now. A spark of desire fluttered in your stomach and you felt nearly lightheaded from the way your body was hitting a peak level of anxiety over his question. If you said yes, were you just giving into yet another boy who would ruin you? And you believed Jungkook could ruin you. He was an artist; they were always trouble. 

But there was no denying the fact that your nervousness was merely a physical response to your interest in Jungkook that had grown exponentially over time. You were weak, and he was right. You did feel broken and alone and misunderstood. And you knew that sometimes Jungkook felt that way, too.

Just when Jungkook began to pull away with a look of rejection written across his face, you nodded. Unable to speak, you watched Jungkook’s tongue swipe across his bottom lip as he leaned in even closer. 

You were prepared for something much more lewd than what Jungkook gave you. Though your lips were parted, he didn’t invade your space. Instead of tongue and lip biting, you were met with a chaste kiss. His lips were soft and gentle, and the way his hand cupped your face made you feel secure, just as you’d felt when he hugged you. You’d never felt a sense of security with someone from a simple kiss. 

And then he was ending the kiss just as quickly as he’d started it, finally dropping his hand from your face. 

“Sorry,” he sighed, no longer meeting your eyes when he spoke. “I shouldn’t have asked. I don’t want you to feel like you had to agree to that…” 

It was your turn to shut him up. Maybe it was the remaining hormones swirling in your brain from having cried so much, or the adrenaline from being kissed by a man you’d tried to shoo out of your mind, but you felt bold enough to take his chin in your hand as he had done to you. You pressed your lips against his, this time forcing his mouth into a faster, deeper rhythm. The kiss was heavy and more desperate than the first. It was what you’d initially expected Jungkook to give you; a makeout that went hard and fast from the beginning, 0 to 100. That was what fuckboys did, wasn’t it? Anything to get their dick wet the quickest. 

It was what you were used to.

Your small hands found the tops of his shoulders, fingers running along his smooth, warm skin before you pushed him against the headboard. Swinging your leg over his, your knees sank into the soft bed as you straddled him. You adjusted slightly in his lap and the shift made your core press directly on top of the bulge in his pants that you’d admired earlier. This realization made the sudden heat between your legs melt like lava, and you ground your hips into his in a smooth but firm motion. 

The movement elicited a deep groan from the back of Jungkook’s throat, another sweet sound you’d never had the pleasure of hearing fall from his lips. With his lips parted from groaning, you took the opportunity to slip your tongue inside of his mouth. His hands pushed up the hem of your shirt just enough to allow him to reach the skin of your waist, gripping you hard as your body moved against his. 

“Y/N, wait.” 

Jungkook pulled back to lean his head against the bed’s headboard and you were met not with lust-filled eyes as you expected, but eyes that looked so deeply pained you almost wanted to avert your gaze. 

“I don’t wanna be a rebound. I want this to mean something, or else I can’t do this.” 

Jungkook’s voice came out hoarse, and it trembled. His eyes still held that undeniable sadness that reminded you that, once again, you had failed to see how your own fear of rejection had made you ignorant to the feelings you were instilling in him. Here he was, willing to give himself over to you, holding back because he was afraid that you would hurt him.

Once again, shame flooded your face as you frantically searched for a way to show that you needed this to mean something, that in just a few months he had become the most constant person in your life, the person you were most comfortable with even when all you often did was just sit and talk about life. 

There was an obvious way to fix this, but you still had that gnawing feeling holding you back. 

“I like you, too, Jungkook.” Squeezing your eyes shut, you spoke just barely above a whisper. If you didn’t look at him, the vulnerability of the moment would be easier to manage. “You’re kind and smart even though you’re always toeing the line of academic probation.” 

Your words came out rushed, the last comment making you let out a laugh that sounded more like a short burst of air, and you held onto his shoulders for dear life. 

“And you’re the most creative and imaginative person I’ve ever met, but you’re so lowkey about everything. You deserve more than you give yourself credit for,” you continued, eyes still closed. “And… I guess you’re kinda hot…” 

With that you slowly opened one eye to peek at Jungkook’s face. It was embarrassing to say that the grin he wore made your heart soar and it was only then that you noticed the way his fingertips were running along your sides, tracing invisible designs onto your skin. 

“Only kinda hot?” 

“Oh shut up.” 

You gave him a playful slap against his chest. You let your hand linger there, palm pressed against him to feel the strength of his pec muscle. With your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, you ran your hand down the length of Jungkook’s chest and along his abdomen until you reached between your bodies to access the hem of his sweatpants. 

Without warning you gripped his cock, palming it over his pants. You felt it twitch beneath your fingers, already semi-hard and warm even through the fabric. Jungkook let out a low groan, hips slightly bucking into you. Suddenly aware of how painfully clothed you are, Jungkook slid his hands back up your sides, pushing his t-shirt off of you in the process. Ruining the orderly look of his bedroom, he tossed the t-shirt and brought his attention back to you. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he hissed, realizing that you weren’t wearing a bra. 

You shuddered at the gentle way he ran his fingers up your sides once more and you leaned forward when his tattooed fingers lightly pinched one of your nipples until it went hard. Then he moved onto the other one, tweaking it slowly. 

After a moment you let go of him and reached for the hem of his sweatpants, waiting for him to lift his body so you could pull them down his legs. 

He’s big, bigger than you’d expected. You’d imagined he would have a nice dick, purely because it seemed like the most mysterious, standoffish guys always did. They didn’t have to compensate by being boisterous and arrogant; they knew what they were packing and that was enough. But Jungkook was quite possibly too much. You were a small person, for fuck’s sake. 

“We don’t have to do this. If you’re not ready, we can stop.” 

There was Jungkook reading your mind, yet again. How was it possible for him to know exactly what to say every single time? Were you just that expressive? If so, no one else in your life read you so well. 

“Stop talking,” you repeated his earlier command, but you didn’t look him in the eyes. Instead you were focused on how heavy and soft his cock felt in your hand as you admired him. You ran your fingers along the prominent vein on the underside of his cock, then you glided your thumb along the tip to smear the bit of precum that was already leaking. The action made Jungkook whimper and the sound sent a jolt straight into your core. 

But just before you could lower your head down to give him what you knew he wanted, Jungkook’s hand was cupping your chin once again. He pulled your face upwards to guide you back to his. 

“I’m fine, Jungkook. I want to do this,” you assured him, but he slowly shook his head. 

“You’re going in so fast, and you don’t have to. I’m not some asshole hookup. The point of all this isn’t just to get me off and make you put in all the work.” He leaned forward to kiss you on the tip of your nose and you’d never felt more wanted in your entire life. “You deserve to feel good for once.” 

Snaking his arm around your waist, Jungkook gently flipped you onto your back. Spreading your legs apart with his knees, he kneeled over you as he began laying hot kisses down the length of your neck, pausing only to suck at the soft skin where your neck and collarbone met. 

“Jungkook…” you sighed, squirming underneath him once his mouth began to travel further down. 

He flicked his tongue against one of your nipples, drawing a circle around the erect mound. He let out a deep hiss of approval when you moaned, arching your back to push yourself against his mouth. While his tongue was busy exploring your chest, Jungkook took his sweet time pulling his basketball shorts off of you, those too flying across the room. 

When he moved back into a comfortable position between your legs, his thigh brushed against your core and he let out a moan loud enough you were sure his roommates would hear him. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you could’ve warned me you weren’t wearing any underwear,” he groaned, his thigh now glistening with your arousal. 

“Sorry I didn’t think to tell you while I was crying.” 

“So dramatic.” 

You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment that bore even deeper into your soul when a pathetic whimper escaped your lips the moment you felt Jungkook’s hand slip in between your thighs. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” he sighed, effortlessly sliding his fingers along your folds. He ran his fingers up and down slowly as if he were memorizing each crevice and the way your legs jumped when he hit a certain spot, especially once he began stroking your clit. 

He was exploring, you realized. He was learning your body and there was nothing more embarrassing. All you could think about was the fear that Jungkook might not like what he saw. Or that he was comparing you to his past fucks. Or that Taehyung had told him things about your sex life. 

“Why are you hiding from me?”

You felt your hands being pried from your face and lifted over your head. Jungkook pinned your wrists above you, his face now inches from yours. You could see a restrained wildness in his eyes, but his eyebrows were knitted together in frustration. 

“Why?” he repeated. 

You shook your head, but another irritated call of your name made you question your decision to defy him.

“I just don’t want you to be disappointed…” you whispered, avoiding his gaze. 

“Does this seem like disappointment to you?” Jungkook rolled his hips into you, his now rock hard cock sliding against your dripping folds. 

“Ahh, n-no,” you gasped, wiggling under his hold. 

“Okay, so don’t hide from me. Let me take care of you.” 

Letting go of your wrists, Jungkook got off of the bed. You watched him with confusion that slowly melted into a mixture of anxiety and sweet anticipation as he hooked his arms around your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the bed. Falling to his knees, Jungkook let your legs rest on his broad shoulders. You could feel his breath against your skin and it took everything in your power not to begin squirming again when you felt his tongue lick a hot stripe up the inside of your thigh. 

“I want you to watch me while I eat you out,” Jungkook murmured, his dark eyes locking with yours as he leaned forward to plant a kiss against your lower lips. “Okay?” 

You had no choice but to nod in compliance, propping yourself up on your forearms so you could get a better view even though everything in you was screaming to break your gaze. You could hardly believe it was Jungkook staring at you through his bangs from between your legs. Not to mention you were usually very shy when it came to being sexually pleasured - mostly because it rarely happened. Guys were always expecting you to do them favors, not the other way around. You couldn’t even remember the last time a guy had gone down on you. 

But there was no time to be shy when Jungkook abruptly plunged his tongue into your folds. You let out a loud yelp and immediately slapped your hand over your mouth to muffle the remaining squeals threatening to slip from your parted lips. Jungkook chuckled at your response and the vibration made your cunt throb. 

Still, you kept your gaze locked with his as he lapped up your juices, no matter how dirty it made you feel to have those blown out pupils bore into yours. Your eyes only fluttered when his lips found your clit and began to suck on it while his tongue flicked a steady rhythm against it, the two sensations proving to be almost too much for you to handle. Your breathing became ragged as you felt your abdomen tense up. 

“Jungkook,” you whispered a moan, hands gripping the bed sheets so tightly your fingers started to hurt. 

“Hmm, baby? You’re gonna have to speak up.” The new nickname made you whimper. 

As if to encourage you to find your voice, Jungkook slid two fingers inside of you as he returned to pleasuring your clit. The sudden stretch immediately ripped a strangled moan out of you and your hips involuntarily bucked into Jungkook’s face. 

“I’m sorry,” you quickly apologized, but Jungkook only fucked into you harder, expertly curling his fingers at just the right spot to make your legs start to shake. 

“Don’t apologize. You can fuck my face all you want,” he lifted his head up to lick his lips, sending you a wink that made your heart stop. 

He could sense your orgasm coming soon by the way your walls were clenching around his fingers, but he was determined to make it as mind-shattering as possible. Fitting a third finger inside of you, he continued to suck on your clit, tongue swirling to the rhythm of his fingers. 

“Ohh, oh my god,” you sobbed, tears pooling in your eyes as you finally reached your climax. You let out a loud cry, fingers tangled in Jungkook’s hair as you struggled to still your shaking legs. 

Licking a final stripe up your lips, Jungkook lifted his head from your thighs and gave you a satisfied grin. He was truly a sight for sore eyes with his mouth soaked in your arousal and his hair a mess from your fingers running through it. You fell flat on your back, legs dangling off the edge of the bed. 

“You good?”

“I’m going to die.”

Your eyes were on the ceiling but you heard him laugh and you felt his strong arms lift your legs back onto the bed, adjusting you so you were comfortably in the center of the mattress again. 

“Damn, I didn’t realize I was gonna make you tap out so fast,” he teased, lying down beside you. He pressed a kiss against your throat. 

“Everyone says you have great head game and I should’ve taken them more seriously.” 

“Who says that?!” 

You turned onto your side to face him, already rolling your eyes. “Don’t you know the rumors that get spread about you?” 

Jungkook gave you a small shake of his head. “I don’t worry about people. I’m only worried about you.” 

The warm fuzzy feelings his words gave you were too much for you to bear, so you pushed them away by pulling him closer, crashing your lips into his. Jungkook wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you flush up against his chest. You could feel his cock still hard against your leg and it reminded you that this whole situation felt so foreign to you. Never had you been pleasured by a man who expected nothing in return.

“You are art, you know that? A fucking masterpiece,” Jungkook sighed against your lips, pulling away to nuzzle against your neck. 

“Jungkook.”

“Yes, baby?” There was that fucking nickname again making your pussy flutter back to life. 

Instead of answering him, you reached down to grab his cock. He groaned against your throat as you gave him a few slow pumps. He’d taken care of you just as he’d promised, and now you hoped he’d let you take care of him. Not because you felt obligated to, but because you genuinely wanted to. 

Wordlessly, Jungkook rolled you onto your back so that he was hovering over you, his forearms on either side of your head. 

“I want you so bad,” he growled against your ear, hips rolling into your open legs. 

“What are you waiting for?” you whispered. 

“Fuck…” 

You blinked and he was no longer on top of you. Instead he was rummaging through the drawer of his nightstand, eventually pulling out a shiny square packet. For someone normally so calm, Jungkook’s fingers were shaking with need as he rolled the condom on. 

“Is this okay?” He returned to his position between your legs as you laid on your back. Your heart stung at his thoughtfulness, shocked that he was asking you what position you wanted him in. You nodded, spreading your legs wider for him. Jungkook ran his fingers along the inside of your thighs, his head dipped down so his bangs fell forward, partially obstructing your view of his face. 

You gasped when you felt something wet hit your cunt. He’d spit on you. You could feel the extra lubrication slide down your folds and the lewd act made you shiver. Sure, maybe that was fairly tame for some people, but it had your head reeling.  

Holding the base of his cock, Jungkook rubbed the tip along your folds, further smearing his spit and your arousal together. 

“If you want to stop, just tell me,” he said hoarsely, and that was the warning you got before he was sinking his cock into your entrance. 

Despite how relaxed and turned on you felt, the stretch was considerable. You tensed for a moment and Jungkook froze, his eyes meeting yours. With a nod of approval from you, he pushed himself in further, finally bottoming out and holding the position as he waited for you to adjust. You felt so unbelievably full with him inside of you and the pressure of him against your walls was enough to make your legs shake once again. 

After giving you a bit of time, Jungkook began to move his hips, starting with slow but long strokes that got increasingly deeper. 

“Oh god,” he moaned, head hanging down so he could watch his cock disappear into your cunt over and over again. After a while he lifted one of your legs to rest it on his shoulder so he could adjust his angle to thrust into you that much deeper, and the next slam of his body into yours that had his cock make direct contact with your g-spot made you scream. 

“Shit, Y/N, Yoongi’s gonna kill us if you keep screaming like that,” Jungkook said with a grin that very much made it seem like he wouldn’t mind dying for such an offense. 

“You… just feel s-so g-good,” you cried out, your nails clawing at Jungkook’s arms as you searched for something to hold on to. 

He couldn’t possibly have been concerned considering he only thrusted into you even harder. The thing about Jungkook, though, was that he was going hard but he was going slow. He was savoring every time he slid into you, savoring the glisten of his cock as he pulled out. Turning his head to the side, he kissed the leg he’d draped over his shoulder, one hand running down the smooth skin while his other held on tightly to your hip to keep you in place. 

“Fuck, yes baby,” Jungkook groaned. He pressed his fingers against your mouth, gently prying your lips open to stick his thumb in your mouth. The action surprised you, but you obediently sucked on his thumb until he was pulling away again. Reaching between you, he pressed his now wet thumb against your clit and began rubbing circles as he fucked you. 

You whined at the sudden stimulation, your walls fluttering around his cock as your breathing turned into panting. “I’m gonna…” you let out another moan, your walls clenching around Jungkook’s cock. “I’m gonna come again.” 

“That’s right, come on my cock for me, baby. Let go for me.” 

How could Jungkook make dirty talk sound so alluring? So supportive? It was just like his writing, a gentle lullaby of filth. From the look he’d given you earlier, you knew there was a less tame side of him you’d yet to tap into. The memory of his poem flooded your mind, daring you to take things a step further… she likes to wear my hand as a choker…

Reaching out, you grabbed the hand that was holding onto your hip and brought it to rest on your neck. You saw that same wild look flash in Jungkook’s eyes once again, and you knew the action had affected him because his thrusting faltered for a moment. With your lips slightly parted, you tilted your head back slightly to expose more of your throat for him. Jungkook wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a sight more beautiful. 

“Shit, you keep acting up like this I’m gonna fall in love,” he grunted, biting down hard on his bottom lip as he opened up his palm to get a firm grip on your neck. As he resumed his rhythmic thrusting, he squeezed your throat. At first, the decrease in oxygen had you gasping in your body’s natural drive for self-preservation. Once your body and mind adjusted, though, you succumbed to the way your body tingled with excitement. When you moaned, your eyes fluttering and rolling back, Jungkook applied even more pressure. 

You’d never imagined you’d have another orgasm somewhere inside of you so soon after the first, but you were convulsing around Jungkook’s cock just as he asked you to, calling out his name in the sweetest song. 

It wasn’t long before his thrusts became sloppier and his grip on your throat became almost too tight. The string of profanity he growled in your ear as he came made you shiver. Was it really possible that you affected him so deeply? 

Jungkook hovered over you for a moment, attempting to catch his breath. 

“I think that’s the hardest I ever came in my life,” he said weakly, finally mustering up enough strength to pull himself out of you. He left the bed to throw away the soiled condom, you musing at his cute little butt as he sauntered away. 

“You’re welcome,” you said with a grin, though the hoarseness of your voice startled you. You pressed your hand against your throat and winced, not because your throat hurt, but because of the way Jungkook looked at you with deep concern. 

“Did I hurt you?” he asked softly, climbing into bed beside you. 

“Please,” you sighed, snuggling against Jungkook’s chest. “You did me too good.” 

“I’ll fucking do you again, too, if you don’t stop rubbing your thighs against me,” he murmured in your ear, causing you to chuckle lightly. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

A loud knock on the door made you jump, your arm instinctually covering your chest though you knew Jungkook had locked the door. 

“What the fuck,” he whispered, silently willing whoever it was to go away. 

The knocking continued, this time a bit more aggressively. 

“Open up, bro, the light’s on. I know you’re in there,” Taehyung complained from the other side of the door. “You’ve still got my pen.”  

Your eyes grew wide as you looked at Jungkook. 

With a groan, Jungkook got out of bed once again. Grabbing the basketball shorts you’d been wearing, he pulled them on and snagged Taehyung’s vape pen from where it sat atop his dresser. He didn’t bother to put a shirt on or fix his sex hair. 

“Wait,” you whispered. “What about me?” 

“I don’t give a fuck,” Jungkook spoke at a normal volume as if to demonstrate how serious he was about not caring if Taehyung saw you there. 

“Seriously, JK?” Taehyung clearly thought Jungkook’s comment had been directed towards him. 

You quickly grabbed Jungkook’s t-shirt and pulled it on seconds before Jungkook swung the bedroom door open. 

You watched Taehyung’s eyes slowly scan over Jungkook’s appearance. His mouth twisted as though he were about to speak, but then he locked eyes with you where you still sat in Jungkook’s bed, probably looking just as fucked out as Jungkook did. 

“Here.” Jungkook dropped the vape in Taehyung’s open palm. “Need anything else?” 

Taehyung’s eyes made their way back to Jungkook and whatever snarky comment he’d been prepared to make before was now gone. 

“Nah, that’s it, thanks.” 

-

After a week of being exclusive with Jungkook, you felt the need to loop your roomates into the whole situation. Courtney and Amiriah were your best friends, after all. The three of you had been your own Golden Trio since day one freshman year, ending up in the same peer mentor group. The first time you’d all hung out together you’d gone to an off-campus frat party. Barely an hour in and Courtney had been throwing her guts up right into the pool. Needless to say, the three of you had never gone back to that house. As horrifying as it was, you felt like it painted the perfect picture of your relationship. You were all in it for the long haul, no matter how messy. 

But now you had to tell them you were dating the weird guy. 

You kept looking at your phone, checking the time. The two should have been out of their sorority meeting by now, which meant they could arrive at your dorm at any moment. Waiting was nerve-racking. You gnawed on a hangnail, only pulling your gaze from your phone when you felt Jungkook’s strong arms wrap around your waist. He pulled you into his lap on the couch and leaned into you, lightly brushing his lips along your neck, making you shiver. 

“Why do you act like you’re having me meet your parents?” he asked with a small chuckle. 

“Courtney and Amiriah are important to me,” you started, trying to find the correct words to explain your friends. “They’re also really… judgmental, but because they care about me. And they don’t trust men.” Which was fair. You did your best to look out for them as well. 

Jungkook hummed in response but didn’t speak. That didn’t surprise you. A man of few words, you knew he liked to have time to decide how he felt or what he wanted to say about things. 

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you announced, standing up. Jungkook nodded and leaned back into the couch. Was it a good thing that he didn’t seem nervous? 

Of course the moment you entered the bathroom, Courtney and Amiriah came bustling through the front door. Their loud chatter quickly halted when their eyes fell upon Jungkook lounging on your couch, legs spread and tattooed arm draped across the back of the couch. 

“Hey,” he greeted them with a grin and a nod of his head. 

“Oh, um, hi?” Courtney’s greeting was more of a question. 

“Where’s Y/N?” What Amiriah wanted to ask was how he even got into your dorm, but she didn’t want to be rude. 

“I’m here!” You shuffled into the room, giving your friends a little wave. “Jungkook wanted to hang out here for a change.” 

The boy quirked his eyebrow at you and gave you an amused smile, noticing how you’d made it sound like it was his idea when it most certainly had been yours. Not that it bothered him. If anything, he wanted you to deflect onto him. He’d told you he could take anything you needed to give him, and he’d meant it. 

Jungkook got up from his seat and walked over to the three of you, hands in the front pockets of his jeans. The pose made his biceps and chest more prominent, and you couldn’t help but stare for a moment. God, he was too pretty. 

“I feel bad it’s the first time I’m finally meeting you,” he said in a warm voice. “Y/N never shuts up about how great you two are. Pretty sure I’ve heard the story of The Great Edible Debacle at the Dolph concert about fifty times.” 

You were shocked by how charming he was being. Really laying it on thick. 

“That is a horrible story to be telling people, Y/N! What the fuck,” Amiriah said with a laugh. “We’re only a little bit insane.” 

“And stupid,” Courtney chimed in. 

The four of you continued your bantering as you lounged around the living room, snacking on some food your roommates had brought as leftovers from their sorority meeting. Jungkook fit into the conversation rather neatly, talking a lot more than you’d expected, but still knowing when to sit back and let the girls dominate the conversation. He sat with his arm around your waist, keeping you close but not dipping into any PDA, knowing it would bother you if he did. 

The conversation came to a pause when Jungkook’s phone began to ring, all three pairs of eyes pointed in his direction. 

“Ah, fuck. Tae’s calling me,” he mumbled. “I’ll be right back.” As he stood up, he cupped your face for a moment, running his thumb across your cheek before he was bringing his phone to his ear. 

“Hyungie, what’s up?” Jungkook stepped out into the hallway, closing the front door behind him. 

“Girl, are y’all fucking?!” Amiriah leaned forward with a harsh whisper, excitement dancing in her bright eyes. 

“We’re dating, actually.” 

Courtney let out a squeal, bouncing on her knees where she sat on a pillow on the floor, wrapped in a fluffy blanket. “I knew it, I totally knew it.” 

“I’m gonna admit, weird or not, that man is foine now that I’m seeing him up close.” Amiriah loudly sucked her teeth and shook her head. “He’s got that snatched little waist. And those thighs? He could smash a watermelon.” 

“Okay, okay, but we gotta ask the REAL question here.” Courtney was now plopping down on the couch between you and Amiriah, blanket still in tow. “Did he eat it right?? In the words of Nicki Minaj, do he got good form??” 

You slapped Courtney on the arm in protest, but you were grinning as you spoke. “I almost started crying, it was so good.” 

“WHEW girl, stop it,” Amiriah grabbed your arm and shook it. “Are you willing to share? For charity?” 

Before you could scold your friend for trying to get her hands on your man, Jungkook returned. The shift in the room’s atmosphere was palpable, and the way Courtney and Amiriah watched Jungkook with new interest was almost too obvious. 

He gave you a confused smile as he squeezed onto the couch next to you. 

“So, Jungkook,” Amiriah began and you prayed to God she wouldn’t say anything stupid. “You said you heard stories about us, but we didn’t talk about all the fun things we’ve heard about you!” 

You shot your friend a glare but she was already on a roll with Courtney on her heels. 

“Yeah, we’ve heard all about your poetry,” Courtney added. 

You don’t think your roommates were prepared for the low chuckle that rumbled from Jungkook nor for the dark look in his eyes as he turned to you. He grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers, and you silently pleaded with him to behave. 

“Yeah, I was trying to give Y/N a preview of what she could be getting.” 

“Jungkook,” you gasped and your friends started talking all at once, but all you could focus on was the way your boyfriend was smirking at you, his tongue playing with his lip ring how he knew you liked. 

He leaned into you, his lips ghosting your ear and sending goosebumps up your arms as he whispered, 

“Just wait until you come over tonight.”

Living with Jungkook meant living with the constant smell of paint. Sure, you only just moved in together less than a week ago, but that was certainly long enough to know. And you were already finding little splatters on the floor and in the kitchen sink.

Living with Jungkook also meant that you were required to use the word magnets on the refrigerator to write him a poem every morning, just like he was going to write one for you. This was established as a house rule while the two of you discussed whether it would be a good idea to live together.

You thought the rules were going to be about who does the laundry, but you had to remember, this was Jungkook.

You tiptoed around the cardboard boxes full of all the stuff you two moved in with, but had yet to unpack. The hardwood floors glistened in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the flimsy blinds. Specks of dust glittered the air.

Jungkook was laying out a tarp in the entranceway of the apartment. An array of paint cans were placed around the tarp to hold it down.

“JK, what are you doing?” you inquired with your hands on your hips.

“Painting,” he said with a simple smile before turning back to his work. It was then that you noticed a large tray with fresh paint, and a variety of brushes sticking out of Jungkook’s pockets. 

“Here? This wall is the first thing people see when they walk in,” you pointed out. Leave it to Jungkook to start on a project before he’d even unpacked all his underwear. 

“That’s the point.” He didn’t look at you as he spoke, instead focused on mixing the color he wanted. 

You let out a small sigh. This man… 

“What are you going to do? Please, I beg of you, please do not paint genitalia of any kind.” It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy your boyfriend’s artwork. You were obsessed with his creativity, actually. It was part of what made you fall for him. But there was no denying that he was… unconventional in his taste. 

Jungkook let out a chuckle, his nose scrunched up and his cute front teeth exposed. It was the laugh that meant he thought you were being ridiculous. 

“It’s gonna be something even better.” 

That was not reassuring at all. 

“Jungkook, my parents are coming to visit in a week!” 

Setting his brush down in silence, Jungkook extended his arm to hook a tattooed finger through the belt loop of your shorts. You begrudgingly let him pull you forward until you were pressed against his chest. Your arms circled his tiny waist and you forgot you were supposed to be annoyed with him when he started caressing your head, careful not to mess up your hair. 

“I’m gonna paint a mural of my muse,” he said in the wispy tone his voice took on when he was thinking through his plans. “That’s you, in case you didn’t know.” 

You lifted your head to look up at him, your chin resting on his chest. “No.” 

“What?!” 

“You are not putting up some kind of shrine for me in the middle of the apartment.” 

“Why can’t I let everyone know that I worship you?” Jungkook whined, letting go of you. You weren’t prepared to be set free, though, and you stumbled backwards. With wide eyes, Jungkook grabbed a handful of your shirt to stop you from falling, but it was too late. Your foot stepped directly into one of his open paint cans. 

“JUNGKOOK!” you shrieked, lifting up your foot to see gloopy red paint drip from your toes.

Jungkook’s cheeks grew puffy as he tried to hold in his laughter while he searched for his towels. It was a failed attempt, though, and you were glowering even harder as you watched the laugh come bursting from inside him. 

“I’m-,” Jungkook wheezed, holding out a paint-stained towel for you. He was laughing so hard his hand shook. “I’m s-sorry, baby, I-” 

He abruptly shut up when he felt your hand swipe his cheek and a thick liquid rolled down his neck. 

“That’s what you get for laughing at me!” you said with a wicked grin, admiring how you’d smeared paint all over the side of his face. 

Your grin slowly fell as you watched Jungkook lean down to drag his fingers through his tray of baby blue paint. 

“Don’t you dare,” you warned, pointing your finger at him. 

“What? I’m not doing anything.” Jungkook gave you the sweetest smile and reached for your legs. You felt his wet hands slide down your bare thighs and you shrieked again as he threw you over his shoulder. 

“Put me down! Kookie, you’re going to get paint all over the floor.” You gently beat his back with your fists, but your laughter made your actions less convincing. 

“Me? You’re the one ruining my painting area.” He tried brushing his bangs out of his eyes, but ended up smearing paint across his forehead and into his hair. “Now I have to clean my baby up.” 

You could hear the pout in his voice as he carried you down the hallway to the bathroom, dripping red and blue paint. The two of you were certainly going to leave your mark on this place.

@rkiveslibrary @mar-lo-pap

[lostazuree]

Hiii!! u asked for more requests and im kinda here to save u SO OKAY HEAR ME OUT maybe smth with size kink or/and breeding??? U can do anyone u like (from bllk plsss) (Rin. WHO SAID THAT?) (Isagi 🤤OKAY IN GETTING HACKED??) (Kaiser… ngh1.. IM TROWING MY PHONE AWAY) u dont have to do it if you don’t want to!! have a good day/night :)

YES, ILY, GIRL. YOU ARE ME, I AM YOU.

↨❣  ࣪ 𝜗𝜚 ̟⸻❝𝐍𝐨 𝐟*𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧' 𝐰𝐚𝐲....𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞?❞

𝗦𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: His undeniably kinky behaviour.

✰𝐅𝐭. 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫, 𝐈𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐘𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢, 𝐈𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐑𝐢𝐧, 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐑𝐲𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐢.

𝘚𝘮𝘶𝘵-𝘚𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬,𝘯𝘴𝘧𝘸.

♥︎ 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫

He never particularly thought about it before, but now that you tell him, he sees it too. Not that he'd admit. He liked teasing you about how small your hand was compared to his, but that wasn't the extent of his teasing. After all, he was very well endowed. And he secretly found some sadistic pleasure in watching you struggle to take it. The way you'd become a pathetic, whimpering mess beneath him, tears staining that pretty face.

Gripping your legs, spreading them apart while you're writhing under him, nails raking over the tattoo on his arm, he can't help but notice the way his dick lines longer and bigger than your pussy as he presses the tip against your chubby folds, comparing his cock to your tummy. "Look at you pretty, so small." he said, fascinated. "It's..mh..it's so big." you whined when he pushed deeper into your velvety walls, you were struggling to take each and every veiny inch. "Damn right, it's big, liebe." he said cockily, his mind hazy and the veins of his dick twitching when you'd call him big. "M-..Micha. It-..it won't..fit." That caused him to open an eye, a cruel smirk adorning his visage as he whispered, "I'll make it fit, ja?", he held you steadily, shoving his inches into you as you cried out, a mix of pleasure and slight pain, nails digging into his flesh, but he doesn't mind. He had your eyes rolling so far into their sockets that you were discovering new galaxies on the way. He drilled into you so deep, you were sure your sputtered moans could be heard in the whole house. "Look at this little greedy pussy, suckin' me in so eagerly. I'm gonna fuck her so good."

He squeezed your nipples, pinching them as if to keep you awake. You could feel your walls clenching around him, he never failed to make a comment on how big his cock was compared to your pussy. And he realised, well, he did infact have a size kink. Now you knew it too. But no way in hell, would he, the Michael Kaiser would ever admit to having something so ludicrous. But he just loved shoving his length down that cunt just so he could hear your loud gasps, his the veins on his dick twitching at the feeling of your slick walls, the feeling of your nails raking over his skin while he gropes your breasts roughly. He'd wake up to find new tattoos on his back, all red and fine streaks. Tease him about it later to see just how quickly he flips the tables on you, calling you filthy for even thinking of it.

♥︎ 𝐈𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐑𝐢𝐧

He himself never knew he had a size kink. He was way too busy to think of lukewarm people stuff. You had mentioned it once or twice, seeing his mannerisms, and he'd blatantly deny it every time. But lately, he'd been involuntarily noticing how small you are compared to him. He can't help but eye the way his hoodie hangs so large and loose over you, and the sight's got him thinking some interesting stuff. But poor boy would soon prove himself wrong.

He's got you under him on the bed. Propped up on his palm as he spreads your legs mindlessly, he can't help but notice, His dick really is kinda big for your pussy. "Fuck..look at that little pussy." Not that he minds. Yes, he'll give you all the preps needed for you to accommodate his size. He pushes in, slow, stretching you out for good, his eyes already rolling back when you struggle to take more than his tip, a string of strangled moans leaving your lips. But he won't be pulling out anytime soon. "You'll take me, right? All of it." And he just sounds so breathless saying it, plunging deeper, forcing you to take him, inch by inch, bottoming out, letting you adjust. "G-..gosh..Rin! C..can't!" you can't help but whimper out, after all, he is stretching you out so much. He just gets harder hearing you tell him that his cock is too big for you. "Oh yeah? Is my dick that big, huh?" he'd whisper in your ear shamelessly. "You shouldn't be complaining. You're already takin' it, babe." He thrusts, his movements rough and paced. He revels in the sounds you make, and he just can't tear those teal eyes away from your pretty little cunt stretching and struggling to take his length. And that's when it strikes him, you were right. He does have a size kink. Not that he'd ever admit how much he loves seeing his dick disappear inside you, how your face twists in pleasure whenever he pushes in all of his length. He thinks it's valid, after all, his dick might be too big for your little pussy. And your suspicions are confirmed, Itoshi Rin has a size kink. Confront him about it later and he'd be a blushing, protesting mess.

♥︎ 𝐘𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢 𝐈𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

Yes. This man has thought about it before. He does have a size kink, and a slight breeding kink to add to it, as if that makes it better. He wants little copies of you and him running around the house. And he knows he's big, he just wants to hear you say it. Though yes, he won't outright admit how nasty he really is.

It starts off simple enough. He's got you under himself as usual after a match, a pillow tucked under your back as you arch it, something he definitely read somewhere because of course, he does and searches up questionable things when he's not solving an infinite pieces jigsaw puzzle in his head about soccer. His blue eyes just rake over your form, how he can pin you down so easily with his hips, how he can easily trap both of your wrists with a single hand of his, how his cock lines up thicker and bigger than your entrance. "What's wrong, love? Too big?" It's his guilty pleasure that he loves absolutely demolishing your pretty little cunt with that big dick of his, while mumbling the most filthy things known to mankind. He's slamming hard, groaning, grunting gruffly all while slurring. "Look at you, taking my cock like the little slut you are." He whispers in your ear, he just can't help it, he gets that tone and that filthy vocabulary on autopilot when he's trying to prove a point, or rather, make one, be it a football field or your damn bed. "I-Isagii...sh-shut up." you can't help but whine, breathlessly, your eyes rolling back as he rams into you, his other hand squeezing your breast. "Mm, 'm sorry pretty, but I'm not lying." soooo fucking cocky with it, like he's purposely trying to break you both physically and mentally with these thrusts and those words. He knows he's kinky, he doesn't need to realise it. He is a little sadistic, he does not care at the moment whether if it hurts or not. He is just reveling in the feeling of being sucked in so sloppily. He pinches your nipples with one hand, lifting your hips up, even above the pillow just so he can hit deeper, make you cry louder. He goes back to being a sweetheart soon enough. Confront him after this and he'll gaslight you like the little fucker he is.

♥︎ 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐑𝐲𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐢

This mf is feral. He does not give two shits about anything. He knows he has the nastiest, most violent size kink, to top it off, a breeding kink too, because nothin's really better than cumming inside his pretty thing. And he doesn't even deny it. He's so outright and vocal about his kinks, very blatantly expressing just how much he enjoys being a fucking brute to your smaller form.

With Shidou, it never starts simple. He'll purposely egg you on to the point you get so hazy and clouded, typical and dying for his dick. He teases you a lot, rubbing the tip of his cock over your clit, over your entrance just until he feels those nails clinging to his shoulders like a lifeline, "Ryuu...come on..ugh.", And he can't help it at that. He lets out a low chuckle, a fairly amused one as he silences you with a finger. "Y'know, you're complaining a lot tonight." His mouth latches onto your nipple, his tongue circling the hardened peak before he pulls back with that deviant grin, "Maybe I should give you a better reason to complain." As he finally pushes in, ramming into you all at once. He looooves when you whine, when tears prick your eyes. He's a little mean about it. He goes feral when you tell him how big he is. He knows how big he is. And he loves when his pretty thing struggles to take him in. "Come on, you can do better than that, right? Look how she's sucking me in. It fits." Horny asf, filthy, devilish, and whatever synonymous adjectives exist, are not yet on par with this man. He gets you in an achingly good mating press, throwing your legs over his shoulder while he plunges deeper, his one hand holding your thigh, and the other holding the bed frame for support, dunno if it's to support him, or the bed. His mouth finds its way back to your breasts, leaving bite marks and hickeys everywhere while he's making some infuriating comments about how your stomach protrudes up when he goes in deeper, how his cock is literally and figuratively too big for your weeping cunt. "She ain't ever been fucked this good, ngh. Come on, you'll give me little ones, right?". He's fascinated by the idea of having mini Shidous' or..ankle biters as he'd say, so he won't really cum a single drop outside of you! He doesn't care if you accuse him of having said kinks, he'd literally sit and elaborate why he does.

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 ♡

Reblogs would be highly appreciated! ♥︎

[donvampiro]

hello! I was wondering if you could write something with the monster trio+law with a clairvoyant reader where she can’t tell ghosts from real people and she sees ghosts on there ships and just starts freaking out cause they still retain the look of when they died. Please and thank u!

hii Anon! hope you’re doing well :) this is a very interesting concept! i really enjoyed writing these HCs. careful though because, as stated in my rules post, it’s max 3 chars when it comes to requests. but maybe you’re new to my blog so it’s totally fine Anon, don’t worry ❤️ i still added Law because i feel like this request really fits him indeed hehe. in any case, hope this post will meet your expectations! Love <3

MASTERLIST - Welcome

***

'Shadows of the past'

Monster trio & Law x (clairvoyant) fem!reader

Warning: mention of death & mourning, physical injuries & blood. contains some spoilers (Marineford ; Dressrosa) as well btw

Monkey D. Luffy

tbh i think Luffy would find your powers kinda cool at first, like he wouldn’t immediately get the measure of your concerns and the harm that your visions might cause you, particularly in their tragic, even traumatic nature

every time he'd hear you scream or saw you shudder, seized by fear because you thought you were meeting a “real” person whose body was more or less in good condition, he’d quickly comfort you, offering you a big smile and patting your back or your shoulder with a gentleness that is always reserved for you.

‘c’mon, (y/n), no need to be afraid! think about saying hello to those people instead. oh! say hello to them from me too!’

Luffy’s carefreeness about your natural gifts wouldn’t last forever though. it would only be after a very concrete event that he’d realize the weight on your shoulders that your power can be on a daily basis. in short, he would need a kind of trigger.

maybe it would happen while you’re both sitting on the deck of the Sunny, taking some time for yourselves and stargazing after a nice meal, a little celebration, who knows. smiling, Luffy seems somewhat lost in thought though. his hand is soft yet slightly calloused as it envelops yours in a comfortable silence; but as you’d turn to him, you couldn’t hold back a gasp, more vocal than you’d have liked, and Luffy would instantly turn to you, alerted.

‘(y/n)? what’s up with ya? everything’s okay?’

it was the first time you saw that while looking at your captain for some reason. you saw him, yes, next to Luffy — this bloodstained individual, covered in wounds, and whose cheekbones, although magnificently freckled, could not, however, soften the sight of his fiercely pierced abdomen. his mouth is dripping with blood but his smile is peaceful as he looks at Luffy, before your eyes meet.

your own heart drums facing his stopped one. you know who he is. of course you do. how could you not know? Luffy has told you about him so many times, in that voice that now made you question whether to answer, tell your captain what you're seeing or not. but your ragged breath, bulging eyes, and the light film of sweat coating your face leave you little room for hesitation as Luffy grabs your shoulder and shakes it lightly.

‘hey (y/n). are you seeing things again? tell me.’

reveal the truth in a low voice and you’ll see Luffy’s eyebrows furrow, in an expression that mixes all the emotions in existence. his eyes are lost in the void of his thoughts for a second before looking all around him, searching and calling his brother, finding you.

‘he’s here?! like, where? behind me? can you talk to him? wait, do you think he can still eat like, real food? or ghost food? i’m sure Sanji knows how to make ghost food anyway. i mean, we could have another meal so he can be with us! oh, and tell him that i—’

he talks a lot and his eyes are glassy, ​​with a tearful glint that doesn’t escape your gaze despite his huge smile. you stifle your own sobs, feeling the weight of Luffy’s grief as you see Ace’s ghost disappear into the starry night, in a painfully soft gaze. you shake your head in a sorry sigh, and your captain almost automatically stops speaking. his smile fades away — there’s no need to say more. he contemplates you for a moment, before lowering his head slightly and caging you in a long, silent hug.

that night, Luffy understood the weight of your powers, understood your fears. the ashes of the past were indeed frightening.

Roronoa Zoro

really, Zoro can’t help but be puzzled every time he sees you freaking out like this, shouting about how there’s such and such corpses wandering on the deck of the ship or the streets of some island where you and the crew made a stopover. the swordsman would never delve too deeply into your emotions when they’re negative; not that he’s not interested, but that he prefers to keep things simple between you two and avoid making you overthink.

still, he would always try to reassure you, and he’d do so assertively — without digressions or innuendos — but always wanting to make things easier for you and so that you’d no longer have to worry about seeing these deceased people, more alive than ever in your eyes though.

‘there’s no reason to be so scared, (y/n). these guys are no longer among us, they won’t hurt you. i wouldn’t let them anyway.’

his tone was gruff, but you knew better. Zoro was always protective of you, and you were grateful, but it wasn’t that simple. meeting lifeless gazes, looking at bloodied, weakened, sick or whatever bodies — you were seeing bereavement and pain personified all around you, almost every day, and you couldn’t shake your fears, despite your best efforts and the swordsman’s reassuring words.

this is why your sleep would be regularly stolen by these bloodstained specters wandering around, and today would be no exception, even if you’re snuggled up to Zoro — who seems deeply asleep. it was he who had suggested a nap together, to calm you down, but obviously the task was more difficult than expected.

despite your eyes being firmly closed, sealed so as not to see these presences you were feeling, you couldn't help but fidget, scared. in order to calm yourself down, you decided to get up and go get a glass of water in the kitchen. you stepped out of the cabin and the air was mild. everything was (very) surprisingly peaceful, and you took the time to enjoy the moment as you filled your glass, before slowly heading back to the cabin.

but as you open the door, you’re greeted not by Zoro’s sleeping figure, but by a bloodstained and destroyed body, which finally passes through you to continue on its way. terror makes you drop your glass and it crashes right into the cabin entrance as you scream.

the swordsman is jolted from his sleep and instantly turns to you, his gaze alert as he reaches for his swords — but you stop him, pointing at the broken glass dotting the floor; and your shaky voice immediately makes him understand what happened.

Zoro sighs and leaves the bed for a moment to come and get you, dodging the shards of glass before finally picking you up and carrying you, so that you both collapse on the bed, never breaking your embrace. he can feel your heart pounding in your chest as he whispers in your ear.

‘saw sordid stuff again?’

his voice is calm as your respective eyes meet. his gaze is stern, focused, attentive. you nod, and it’s in a — sweet, only for you — whisper that he concedes that it can’t be easy every day. maybe you need to talk about it more than he thought, after all. Zoro tightens his embrace around you, petting your hair as he lets a comfortable silence settle, before questioning you in a solemn yet uncertain tone.

‘hey, by any chance… have you ever seen, like, in your visions… a young girl with a sword?’

Vinsmoke Sanji

Sanji would be a great listener and always there to reassure you when your visions frighten you. he would empathize and understand the weight your powers can represent; so you can count on him to give you all the affection and consideration you need.

he is supportive. his goal would be to make sure that you don’t feel alone in the middle of all these more or less bloodstained ghosts, so that, whenever fear seizes you, he can be there to comfort you and bring you back to the world of the living.

in that sense, it would probably lead you to be more comfortable with your powers and to be able to talk about them more openly. you would be less afraid. and it’s sitting in the kitchen while Sanji is busy at his stove that you’d talk about this and that, your voice a sweet melody for the attentive ears of the cook.

‘you know, i’ve already seen ghosts around you.’

– ‘ah? they should be more interested in you, (y/n)-chwan, you’re so much prettier.’, he’d reply, and you could hear the smile on his face.

you couldn’t stifle a laugh. with Sanji, things always seemed less dramatic, less scary. it was as if you could face all the troubles in this world but you could always get back up.

your laughter was nevertheless cut short by the presence you felt. you couldn’t help but shudder slightly and your eyes, riveted on the cook’s busy hands so far, eventually lifted towards a ghost behind him. this very ghost was also watching with great interest the recipe being prepared, all the while smiling tenderly.

‘there's one behind you right now, by the way.’

– ‘really?’, he chuckled, without taking his eyes off the vegetable he was cutting. ‘and what do they look like? not too… damaged, i hope.’

– ‘it’s a lady. a very beautiful lady.’

Sanji slowed down his cutting, his mind troubled for a moment. he certainly knew how to appreciate women, all women, but something inside him told him that this woman was different. what interest could the ghost of a dead woman possibly have in him? Unless…

‘(y/n), could you please… describe her?’

he had put down his knife, and the uncertain tone of his voice encouraged you to respond positively to his request; nodding then describing as best you could the woman standing next to him, looking at him with a soft smile.

as you spoke, the cook’s features tensed up, and you could see that he was holding back just about everything that came up to him. words, tears, everything. so you ventured to ask a few questions.

‘do you know this person?’, you’d ask timidly.

and maybe it was now up to you to lend an ear to Sanji’s sensitivity.

bonus:

Trafalgar D. Water Law

talking to Law about your powers would be complicated at first. in fact, he would have a hard time understanding why you would be so moved by every vision you have when it’s “just” part of your abilities. he would have a hard time understanding why you would continue to be afraid even though you’re aware of these powers of yours. everything would seem so… irrational to him.

You were coping with the situation as best you could — if he couldn’t understand, you weren’t going to force him. still, that was before you noticed this person. an individual that, as usual, you had taken for a living person, before noticing their bruised appearance and their spectral nature. this person who followed Law almost everywhere.

it was embarrassing, frightening at times, because this ghost’s presence was unpredictable and random, so you often found yourself jumping out of your skin and screaming in the middle of a conversation when they appeared, with Law looking at you in perplexity.

so you had decided to avoid Law a little, just to spare yourself a little, and to avoid having to broach this subject which you already had the feeling he wouldn’t be very receptive to.

however, Law, for his part, was actually very receptive to the fact that you were avoiding him. he saw it perfectly, and also felt that there was something you wanted to tell him, but didn’t dare to, or something like that. he felt lost about it: you knew you could tell him anything, right? or, had he done something that made you no longer feel comfortable talking to him?...

Law would confront you directly about it, not wanting to beat around the bush; and his heart was beating a little faster than he anticipated as he saw you searching for words.

‘well, i… i see… i often see a tall man around you, his face made up, with a large black coat, he’s very injured, with blood all over his face and… so… it makes me…’

– ‘“it makes you” what? what am i supposed to do?’

something snapped in his mind and his reply came out on its own, in a way harsher tone than he would have liked. Law’s grip on his nodachi tightens as he frowns. he looks hurt by this information over which you actually have no control. you shake your head — you knew he wouldn’t understand anyway, that he would only see your visions and fears as irrational, as always. you look away.

‘... nevermind.’

you start walking away, and Law runs his hand over his face with a heavy sigh, trying to process what just happened, and realizing his words were far too harsh. facing the loss of those who matter to us is already a trial. but seeing death walking around every day, even in moments that should give us rest… yeah, he too would freak out facing those kinds of visions eventually.

‘(y/n), wait’, he calls, catching up with you quickly. his voice remains monotonous, but you still hear the softness he always reserves for you. ‘i worded my question poorly. i… yeah, i think we should indeed discuss all this.’

you turn to him, your respective gazes seeking each other, and in his eyes lay torment as well as the apologies he can’t seem to voice. you nod, and he mutters.

‘i will try to understand.’

[munchhmm]

hey ml! Was wondering if you could do headcanons of one piece men, specifically Zoro, with a love interest (preferably fem) who is SUPER strong, and fast, like Saitama.

Thank youuu! Byeee

More Than Muscle

Hi annon! I’m sorry I’ve never watched One Punch Man and I'm not feeling very well oops, but I have an idea (I think) of what you were expecting though!! hopefully this is good :’)

The boys reacting to reader being super duper strong! ♡

Image above is mine.

Pairings: Zoro, Ace, Law, Smoker, and Luffy x F!reader.

Warnings: None! ᐢ. .ᐢ

Word count: 550 I'm sorry It's so short :(

Zoro > ᴗ•

Doesn’t want to admit you might be stronger than him.

Sees firsthand how powerful your skills are—he’s in awe but would never show it.

Trains harder to try and get on your level, even though in the back of his head he knows it’s probably not possible.

Secretly finds it cute and fun; sparring with you felt like a real challenge.

“Where did all of this come from?” —asking out of sheer curiosity but with a hint of annoyance, knowing you’re beating his ass.

Protects you silently; he sees your strength but knows everyone gets tired sometimes.

Lets you lean on his shoulder, eventually his lap after practice—running his fingers through your hair when he knows you’re asleep.

Ace ´ ᵕ `

Smirking but wants to be your biggest fan on the inside.

Constantly puts you up to tests, timing your speed and agility.

In awe when you fight, almost to the point he forgets he’s in the scuffle himself.

Still tries to take care of you like a baby—he admires you so much. Even if you’re strong, you’re still his love.

Honestly would probably try to stop you from going overboard, like you’re all fighting and he grabs you so things don’t get too heated. Haha, literally, right? Get it with Ace? I should shut up…

When you get tired, he scoops you up and holds your body like you’re the most fragile thing on earth.

Doesn’t care about the teasing—he respects you even if your power can compare to his.

Law ᵔᗜᵔ

Doesn’t say a word outright, just a small smirk across his face.

Worries way too much—his doctor instincts kick in. Are you pushing yourself too hard? Are you hurt? These thoughts circle his mind constantly.

Stands behind you with his eyes closed like he isn’t paying attention. He most certainly is.

Offers practical help: meditation and cold compresses. This is his way of showing he cares.

When you do inevitably push yourself too far, he’s the first to notice—almost forcing you to rest and take things easy.

In secret, he lets you lay on his chest while he watches your face, trying to read what mental and physical state you’re in.

Would never let anyone tease you—giving deadly glances when anyone dares to open their mouth.

Smoker •⤙•

Cold and stern outwardly; on the inside, he’s really impressed.

Worries about you in battle but knows you can handle it.

If you ever did get hurt, he’d calmly bandage you while cursing himself for not being there sooner.

Never lets you push yourself too hard, even when necessary—he cares too much about you.

Watches with a focused eye at all times.

Brags about you to other Marines without even realizing it.

Keeps your weak spots in the back of his mind so he can help when—really if—needed.

Luffy >ヮ<

Biggest fanboy from the very start.

“WOAH, THAT’S SO COOL! HOW DID YOU DO THAT?!”

Wants to join every fight you’re in from that point forward.

Secretly learns the way you fight so maybe he can copy you.

If anyone ever underestimates you, he just laughs and lets you at them.

Tells everyone that you’re the strongest person he’s ever met—and means it.

Makes you eat lots of food—aside from what he steals from you, ofc—and rest a bunch to keep your strength.

[michellesneptune]

Future spouse PAC🕊️

hi guys! as of lately, i’ve been obsessed with the idea of marriage🫠🫠. (a subtle wink wink at my boyfriend) (not the 7 house also being the house of open enemies👀, maybe that’s why it’s occupied my thoughts iykyk). devoting yourself to one person, gathering all the sureness and love one can have in order to create something much stronger than you’d ever be able to be on your own.

i’ve never done this kind of content before so make sure to tell me how you feel about it!🐚

and now. take a deep breath and relax. be mindful about it — consciously give yourself permission and time to connect with your heart. you don’t have to rush, you don’t have to be on top of your shit for a peaceful moment. pick a card that speaks to you, that you feel has something important to tell you, relax, and listen.

card number 1

i feel like you guys could be a lot like me when it comes to the idea of marriage. somewhat traditional — looking for the one and only forever love, the fairytale. i feel like you could have libra+scorpio placements and truly value your relationships, put them on a pedestal even.

i also get the feeling that you could be struggling with your self worth right now, being self conscious. let me tell you right here: YOU ARE SO HOT!! your energy lures people in, you are soft, understanding and composed. they sense that there is A LOT to you, you have so so much to offer. anyone would be LUCKY to go out with you!!

you could’ve been mistreated in the past, betrayed by a lover and that made you cautious and guarded. it’s not surprising, your heart is a precious one so there’s a lot to defend. but the right spouse will treat you like a QUEEEEN.

i feel like they will make you think “maybe all the shit i went through was worth it”. every day you will wonder how did i get so lucky, you could be a bit suspicious even. but you will open up and learn to trust, gradually. they will be genuinely interested in your thoughts, plans and opinions, i even get the feeling that making your dreams come true will be a priority to them!!

my advice to you: pour into yourself, fill your cup up. ask yourself a question: “what would make me happy with myself?” then go do that. it can be small, just do it this week. it’s your homework! my personal suggestions: go out for your favourite food, meet up with your friends, draw or paint something, go to a bookstore, read. anything that will make you more reassured in yourself and your identity. explore yourself, there’s so much to you!!

card number 2

i’m getting that you are quite a practical person, you like to get shit done. CEO girlboss stuff. you take no crap, you’re responsible and dependable, some earth placements??

but here’s your little secret: you are a big softie inside and even though YOU WILL NEVER ADMIT IT, you dream about romance. you create fake scenarios every night before you go to sleeppp. but you’re scared to pursue it, scared of being vulnerable and someone seeing your weaknesses. you put on a brave face and do what you’re expected to do.

i can sense that you’re tired. that you just want to curl up and cry in a corner, not be the strong one anymore. you dream about someone taking you into their arms, taking the responsibilities away. you are worthy even when you don’t provide everything!!!!

you are strong and fiery and i admire people like you so much. your future spouse will also be strong but they will not dare to fight with your fire. they will be in awe of what you’re capable of and even a tiny bit scared. they’ll remind you to take care of yourself and relax once in a while. i feel like they will want to have kids with you and are very family-oriented, making your home cozy, safe and beautiful. possibly healing the wounds from your childhood, giving you what has been lacking.

and if you don’t want children, i see a bunch of puppies/cats/any other pets running around!!

my advice to you: take a leap of faith!! if you’ve been invited to a date or an event, or a trip but thought about bailing because of work, deadlines blah blah blah— GO! you won’t regret it!!

card number 3

i sense aquarius energy!! independent and unique, your approach to love and relationships is equally remarkable and untraditional.

that energy is sooo attractive to potential suitors🥵. we want most what we can’t have. they all chase you but you’re unbothered, not because you’re commitment-phobic, but because you’re waiting for someone to join you on your perpetual adventure instead of try and change you to fit their mold.

you know you thrive in freedom and you know you’re one of a kind. every day with you is exciting, when they let you be yourself.

here’s the thing though: you’ve mastered your own individuality but it’s not a crime to depend on others. i know you’re smart and i know you’re talented, but there are people who will love you even on those boring days, where you just sit in silence because there’s nothing new and nothing exciting. and i think that you’ll grow to appreciate the routine!!

i feel that you and your partner will give each other lots of space to develop as individuals and indulge in your own hobbies. then you’ll talk about them and fight over who gets to tell their story first😂.

they will be loyal and an exceptional person, just like you are. but i feel like you will fall in love with something more, something deeper in them. you will recognise it in each other and never stop noticing that special thing even in your biggest chaos and storms. they will love you by keeping up with your beautiful mess.

my advice to you: don’t worry, if life has seemed boring lately. take this time to get to know yourself, maybe slow down a little. have you noticed the flowers blooming everywhere? when did you last drink your morning coffee without scrolling? when did you last clean your refrigerator? indulge in some routine

ฅ^>⩊<^ ฅ

that’s all for today my loves!! this has been really intuitive and fun for me ;)) i hope you can find something in here for yourself and i hope it can bring you some joy💕💕⭐️

till next time

Michelle~~

[trainer-from-unova]

giving birth, giving up

english ao3 Ⓢ spanish ao3 Ⓢ masterlist Ⓢ 𝄞

ship: the void x afab!reader (x robert reynolds)

summary: after giving birth to your daughter you are no longer you, but neither is bob. you feel empty, and he is the void.

au: (i wanted this to be ambiguous but) bob and void are a system

c/w: post-partum depression, established relationship, crying, sad, not very graphic smut, implied unsafe vaginal sex, free use, dacryphilia, breeding kink, implied cheating?, soft void, possessive void, void doing void things, third person pov, implied post-canon

a/n: i wanted this one to be more contemplative than anything, also yeah I'm horrible at thinking titles and english isn't my first language (and fun fact: giving birth in spanish is literally "give to light" [dar a luz] which I think it's funny in the context of this drabble)

word count: 649

She was always aware of how her life was going to change after giving birth and how difficult it was going to be to get used to it, but she never imagined it would be so much. Ever since the baby was born she felt empty.

She was no longer her, and therefore Bob was no longer Bob. But with him she didn't have to hide to cry or try to hold back her tears, with him she didn't have to pretend to be interested or make an effort at anything, with him she didn't have to force a smile and relax her irascible tone because they didn't even have to talk if they really didn't have to, and with him she could lie in bed all day.

She was expelling what little liquid she had drunk in days through her eyes, crying as if she was being tortured and not really knowing why. She looked disgusting according to her, but she wasn't in his eyes — eyes that glowed in the dark and watched her cry, curled up with him in bed. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her close to him, suffocating her but comforting her at the same time.

He was so patient with her... He had been for weeks. And now she was finally where he wanted her. Slowly he saw her changing, until she was as dark as he and the room they were in at that moment.

He laid her down and got on top of her. He brought his hands to her cheeks, brushing the back of her neck with his fingers and wanting to feel her tears on his skin. Then he kissed the trails they left behind — he kissed the corners of her eyes, her cheeks and even her chin and then down her neck.

She knew what he intended, and she really didn't care. As long as she didn't have to do anything he could do whatever he wanted with her. Deep down she knew it was wrong, but she tried to console herself thinking that it wasn't technically infidelity. At least he made her feel something, and he also made her feel understood. Besides, she wanted to feel full again.

He helped her undress slowly, as she felt invalid even for that. Her body was heavy, even her soul was heavy. Just lying in bed exhausted her too much, it took too much energy.

He kissed her naked body all the way down to the big, ugly caesarean scar on her lower belly, then wrapped his arms around her like a predator around freshly hunted prey. But this one wasn't going anywhere, she was living dead. He made her feel his weight on her, pinning her down with it too even though she didn't intend to move in the slightest, and against his chest he could feel hers and how slowly her heart was beating.

He was so sweet and gentle with her... even while he was filling the void inside her. So gentle that you couldn't even hear the sound of the bed creaking or banging against the wall, just a sob from her every now and then that made him pick up the pace, even more excited and comforting her in his own way, telling her in her ear how cute her sobs were and how beautiful she looked whenever she cried.

"Just a little longer, it'll end soon..." He whispered in her ear as she clung tightly to him, shaking with each thrust. "You're taking me so well."

Hearing her cry more and more unleashed the beast inside him. And the thought of getting her pregnant again, this time him, and still seeing her depressed like that thanks to hormones and depression during and after the birth excited him too much. That way he could proclaim her as his, completely his once and for all.

© trainer-from-unova / alicent burton | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

a/n (iykyk):

[thebestsetter]

Undressed

Synopsis: Break ups are tough. The ones with the one you swore you'd spend your whole life are even harder. He'll never get over you, he's sure of it. How could he, when everywhere he looks, you're there?

Characters: Rin Itoshi, Oliver Aiku, Michael Kaiser, Sae Itoshi

TW: The word fuck sometimes, OOC characters 😟

A/N: This is obviously inspired by Sombr's song "Undressed". Y'all should totally listen to it.

A/N²: THEBESTSETTER'S WRITING COMEBACK???

I don't wanna get undressed for a new person all over again

Rin Itoshi has never had an easy time opening up to other people.

Ever since he was a kid, talking about his feelings and thoughts never came as easily to him as it did to others. Feelings were... well, complicated. The only one who could make him come out of his little shell was Sae Itoshi, his older brother. The one who promised to always be by Rin's side. The one who he looked up to. The one who comforted him and gave him free popsickles.

The one who betrayed him. The one who felt disgusted by Rin. The one Rin wanted to crush and destroy.

And also the one who broke Rin. Who made him cry countless times, wondering just what was wrong with him.

After that fateful night, Rin never opened up to anyone again. Why bother? If even his own brother abandoned him, others would too, right? People come and go, so what's the point in being an open book? They're gonna leave anyways, he's clearly destined to be alone (And he's okay with it, really.)

Or perhaps not, cause somebody else managed to break through the walls he oh so carefully built up. You managed to.

Talking to you was easy. He didn't felt like he was forced to speak, it just came naturally. It was as if his own body wanted to open up to you, to have a shoulder to cry on - or maybe it was just the effect you had on him, he'll never really know.

He told you everything. He talked to you about the ugliest parts of him, the ones he tried so hard to hide. He told you about Sae and how the whole situation regarding both of them made him feel. He felt vulnerable enough to cry in front of you, multiple times.

He still remembers your arms around him, the embrace strong, yet so gentle. It was clear you cared for him. Scratch that, you told him you loved him, more than once. And he loved you back. So, so much.

That's why he doesn't understand what went wrong. Why he's here and you're there. Why he's alone again.

"...Rin?"

Well, not exactly alone.

Don't get him wrong, his new girlfriend is good. Great even. She's pretty, the media loves her and her cooking is very good.

There's just one problem.

She isn't you.

"Is everything alright?"

His shoulders are shaking as he lies with her in their shared bed, his back facing her while he looks at the wall as if it was the most interesting thing in the room.

"Mhm" He nods, trying to calm down. His breath is unstable, even if he tries to hide it.

"You're shaking. You sure you're alright?"

The feeling of her hand going up and down his back, clearly trying to calm him down, does nothing to help. Actually, it only makes things worse: he feels disgusted by it. Her touch feels so, so wrong. It feels forced. Out of place. Strange.

He brushes her hand off like it physically burns with a little more force than normal. He realized it was too much though, so he tried to play it cool.

"Sorry" he says, finally finding his voice again "I'm fine, really. You should sleep now... Love"

He almost spits the word, like it's acid going through his mouth. The stinging sensation in his lips after saying it makes his head start reeling and his heart beat faster.

"Rin, you know you can always talk to me when something's wrong, right? I'm your girlfriend, sweetie. You need to trust me for this relationship to work"

Trust? He trusted too many people already. Sae. You.

And, suddenly, the earning becomes hatred. For a split second, he holds the pillow tighter, the longing he felt for you quickly replaced by pure anger.

You promised him. You told him you'd never leave him. And the worst part is that he believed you. He wanted to believe.

He really should talk to her. She's waiting for an answer, staring at him in silence. She stares at him like the kids used to do when he was little: like his feeling were too confusing to understand. Like he was too much.

You never once looked at him like that. You looked at him with understanding in your eyes. With care and patience.

The anger turns into tears. One by one, they begin to spill from his eyes as he hiccups into his pillow. It's as if the ghost of your hands is right there, wiping away his tears.

"Talk to me, Rin" she says - no, she pleads.

But he can't. Even though he knows he should, his mind doesn't want to. He opens and closes his mouth, trying to find the right words to say, but finds none. His body physically holds him back from talking to her the way it used to do with you.

"...I can't"

He'll never be able to open up to another person, as long as the ghost of you still haunts him. He doesn't want to.

I don't wanna kiss someone else's neck and have to pretend it's yours instead

This wasn't supposed to happen.

He wasn't supposed to get attached.

It was meant to be an one stand, a quick "fuck and go" to help him get his mind off of the current... situation he was facing.

But Aiku couldn't help it: she just looked too much like you.

Her hair, her face, hell even her name sounded like yours - which really helped him cover his slip ups (moaning your name instead of hers) many times.

When they were sleeping together, she put her cold feet under his legs to warm them up just like you used to do. Her favorite series are the same as yours. Her style looks liked yours. She was almost you.

Almost. She wasn't you.

But if Aiku closed his eyes really tight, he could pretend it was you.

He knew he looked crazy, but he just couldn't stop it.

When he gifted her the perfume you used, he brushed it off as a coincidence. Many girls wear that fragrance, so it's not a big deal, really. When he "accidentally" bought her VIP tickets to that rock band you liked - the one he refused to go with you many times, claiming he was "busy" - even though he knew she doesn't like rock, he just shrugged and said he liked the band - he doesn't know a single song beside your favorite one. When he kisses her neck, he needs to pretend it's you, or else he physically can't be affectionate with her. He closes his eyes and inhales your her cologne, smiling to himself as he mutters your name.

"Aiku?" She asks, turning to look directly at him "Who's that?"

And that's when he realized: she was not you. Because her eyes were nothing like yours.

He misses them. Your eyes, I mean: the way the colors in your iris danced, inviting him in and making him grow an inexplicable need to kiss you till you're both a breathing mess of love and earn.

That's why he knows he should stop.

He really should.

"What do you mean? I said your name"

There's not an ounce of doubt in his voice when he talks to her, as if they've had this conversation hundreds of times already.

"...okay then"

And when she turns and he can't see her face - her eyes - anymore, he automatically goes back to pretending it's you again.

So you have to understand, he couldn't let go of her. Cause then he'd have to get over you, and he's not sure if he's ready to.

I look across the tracks and see you with another

There's nothing worse than seeing your lover moving on while you still suffer

Kaiser feels sick to his fucking stomach.

What the actual fuck is happening just in front of him? Why are you at your cafeteria with a lowlife? Your cafeteria. Yours and Kaiser's. The one you had your first date in. The one where he asked you to be his girlfriend.

He's gonna throw up.

Why are you with that bastard? He looks like a fucking dog that hasn't taken a bath in weeks - no, months. He's so much better than that idiot in front of you right now. He knows it. And he's sure you know it too.

So why are you smiling so hard?

How can you be smiling so hard without him, when he's never gotten over you? When he still earns for you, still goes through your old photos on his phone. When he still calls you just to listen to your voice on the voicemail.

How can you move on while he's still suffering? And how can you look so pretty while doing it.?

It's unfair. He's been on dates after your break up, sure, but never managed to find anyone even close to your level. That's why he doesn't know how you managed to.

Kaiser knows he's pathetic. He though those lovesick fools from the movies you forced him to watch were ridiculous - until it was him in their position.

He rejects every girl that even tries to talk to him. The scented candles - the ones that have your scent - are always lit. He checks your social media like it's a ritual.

He even cries himself to sleep sometimes, trying to figure out just what went wrong. Why he's so easy to abandon. Why no relationship ever works for him.

"Mich... Kaiser" He hears someone call.

It's you. Hand in hand with your new... Lover.

He can't help the disgusted expression that appears in his face.

"...hey" It's so weak, so low, so unlike him that even you seem surprised

"What are you doing here?"

I was looking for you, hoping to see you here. Alone. Looking for me, too

"Ah, just passing by. The coffe here is the best, you know."

It's not a question, it's an affirmation. He knows you know. You told him yourself that they serve your favorite coffe.

"Yeah, I know" an uncomfortable silence settled, but Kaiser didn't even oay attention. His eyes were focused on your hands, intertwined with that guy's. "So..." You start, looking at him. Oh, how he missed your eyes.

But not like that. You're looking at him with indifference, not with the loved you used to. "How's life going?"

"Amazing" Bullshit "I'm seeing someone" it's the most absurd lie he's ever said.

"Really? That's great!" No. You're not supposed to be happy. That would mean you...

"I'm glad you also managed to move on" Also? "You know I still care for you, right?"

He's gonna cry.

"Y-yeah" How many times has the mighty Michael Kaiser stuttered?

"You should call me" he's blocked.

You seem to remember it, since you blush and look to the side. His face softens when he sees this. You really haven't changed. At least, not completely. "I'm gonna unblock you, don't worry"

Oh, how long has he earned to hear those words? But not like this. Whatever this is, it isn't what he wanted.

"Sure" he puts his cold and alone hands inside the pockets of his jacket, pretending it's you holding them. "I need to go, now. She's waiting for me at home"

There's no one at his house - he can't call it home anymore. Home is wherever you are.

"Yeah, sure. Goodbye, Kaiser"

"Goodbye"

He begins walking away, his eyes glossy and the air around his face filled with the puffs from his heavy breathing.

"Oh, I almost forgot"

He looks at you again, locking eyes. He takes in your whole body, almost as if it's the last time he'll ever see you: and it might be.

"Take care of youself, Micha."

It seems his pillow will wake up wet again.

I don't want the children of another man to have the eyes of the girl I won't forget

Sae changed.

Spain changed him. Life changed him. Football changed him.

Whatever was going between you both before he travelled was over. He made it very clear that day, when he broke up with you on a snowy day.

He knew he needed to do it. He needed to if he wanted to he the best midfielder in the world.

He also told you to not wait for him, even though you told him you would. He wasn't selfish enough. He knew you deserved to be happy.

And even though he said you shouldn't wait, he still held hope. Hope that you had waited for him, just like you said you would.

That's how he finds himself in Japan again after almost 5 years, strolling through the park where you spent your whole childhood playing together, searching for you.

Everywhere he looks, there's a piece of you. The swings you both ate ice cream in. The sand box where you'd play with Rin. The bench where he confessed his love for you. The olive tree where you first met. The...

"Daddy, look! It's Sae Itoshi, from Real Madrid!"

He snaps out of his daydream when a highpitched voice breaks him out of it.

"It's really him, daddy!"

"Are you sure, sweetie?"

"Yes! Yes! 100% sure!"

"Okay then, go talk to him"

He looks to his right and sees a little girl running up to him a smile on her face and her arms open wide. Her dad is behind her, recording the whole thing while smiling.

"Hello" he says, ruffling her hair a little. He doesn't really like paparazzi, but he really likes his kid fans. Only when they're not spoiled, though "What's your name, little one?"

"I'm Hannah!" She says, still hugging his legs "And I'm your biggest fan!"

He smiles a little

"Well then, 'biggest Sae fan'" he hears her dad say, laughing and coming closer "Why don't you let him go now so you can take a picture together?"

She reluctantly lets go, still not able to contain her smile. When the photo is taken, Sae crouched down to her height to say goodbye, like he always does with kids.

Except it's not the same. The words die in his lips.

Because he recognizes that look. Those eyes.

They're exactly like yours. Even the sparkle in them is the same.

He's suddenly brought back to the thoughts of you. The way you looked at him when he declared his love. The way your eyes sparkled when he won one of the most important championships of the town with his silly school football team. Hell, he even remembered the way your eyes filled with tears when he broke up with you that day.

All because of that little girl.

It can't be... can it?

"Hey, man" he hears the girl's dad say, which makes him quickly rise up again (without really saying anything to the girl. He got too distracted)

"Yes?"

"Could you give a shout out to my wife? She really likes soccer, so I'm sure she knows you"

Oh God.

"Sure. What's her name?"

Please don't say her name please don't say her name please don't say her name please don't...

"Sure. It's..."

He tunes everything down the moment the name began to form itself in the man's lips. Maybe if Sae didn't hear it, it wouldn't be truth.

Yeah, maybe.

But it wouldn't. The truth was simple: you moved on. And the proof was there, right in front of him, smiling without a care in the world.

"So, think you can do it? The video, I mean"

Those kid's eyes will haunt him forever. He's sure of it.

"...yeah. I'll do it"

[mossy-thing]

When I was ten or something, my grandpa took me along to a model train fair. I don't remember it all too well, but it was very loud and crowded, hosted in a pretty big hall, and I got overwhelmed very quickly.

I am nowadays very sure of my own autism, even though the road to diagnosis has been very hard and I have not reached a destination yet, and if my grandpa and I were related, I would be convinced I got it from him. But anyway, back then I knew next to nothing about autism. All I thought of when hearing the word was that little boy in Mercury Rising, and an action movie about a nine year old semi verbal savant is not very informative about a spectrum disability. Very entertaining movie though, if I remember it right!

But the people there were very understanding of my sensory issues. I was led out of the hall and given time to collect myself. Sounds like the bare minimum, but it was far more than I was used to, and I remember thinking that they seemed kind of knowledgeable about the whole thing. What I'm getting at is that maybe the train thing is a stereotype because it's sorta true. I know two autistic people in real life who have been obsessed with trains (one as a child, before she switched to theme park attractions because they were more entertaining, and one, my grandpa, since the goddamn sixties.) I don't know what it is about trains, I'm more on the storytelling and history side of special interests, but they sure get some people going.

[bvrnesher]

❝ Stop Moving ! ❞ ― percy jackson

warnings: smut. fingering. percy's a tease.

tap here for chb masterlist ! here for reqs info

author note: stormy's shitty comeback 'cause school is kiling me and y'know how this whole student life works 🤘🏻

YOU ROLLED YOUR EYES. AGAIN.

Fifth time that night.

And fifth time you wondered what life decisions had led you to this exact moment—sore, exhausted, and forced to share a bed with a boy who apparently thought "sleep" was a full-contact sport.

Thanks, Aphrodite.

You were still aching from that less-than-fun sparring session with a daughter of Ares (because of course she had something to prove), and now—now—Percy Jackson, your boyfriend, your supposed safe space, was tossing, turning, yanking the sheets like he was reenacting the Battle of Manhattan with cotton and fluff.

“Percy,” you groaned, dragging out his name like it personally offended you. It was the sixteenth complaint in ten minutes, and still, the boy had the audacity to mess with your pillow like it belonged to him.

“Hm?” he muttered, completely unfazed, still wriggling around like a restless sea otter.

You sighed. “Stop moving. My neck hurts.”

That got his attention.

He stilled. Immediately. Completely.

For a second, you actually believed it. Believed that Percy had found, somewhere deep inside that half-god brain of his, a flicker of divine decency. That maybe—maybe—he’d be considerate, gentle, respectful.

But then you remembered who you were dating.

And sure enough, even with the lights off and only the silver glow of moonlight spilling through the windows of Cabin Three, you could feel his smirk forming like a threat on his stupidly kissable lips.

“Want me to help?” he offered, voice soft and innocent—dangerously so.

You didn’t answer right away. Not because you were speechless. Because you were calculating. Suspicious.

“How exactly?” you asked, narrowing your eyes into the dark.

In response, Percy shifted closer.

One arm slipped around your waist, pulling you flush against his bare chest, the heat of him seeping through your thin summer nightgown like he’d been forged in a volcano instead of born in the sea. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, nuzzling in, breathing you in like you were some kind of ocean-scented drug.

His voice dropped to a murmur. “How bad does it hurt?”

You should’ve kicked him. You should’ve.

But instead, you stayed perfectly still—tense as a bowstring—while his fingers slid beneath the silk hem of your nightgown, slowly exploring the skin of your stomach like he was mapping constellations.

“Bad enough that if you keep moving, I might kill you in your sleep,” you muttered darkly.

He laughed. Laughed. The bastard.

Soft and warm against your neck, the sound of it crawling over your skin like a shiver.

Then came the kisses.

Featherlight, maddeningly sweet, scattered along your shoulder, your jaw, your pulse point—each one making it very hard to maintain the moral high ground.

You squirmed when his hand cupped one of your breasts, thumb brushing over your nipple just right—too right.

“Percy,” you warned, but it came out more breathy than threatening. Not great.

His hand didn’t stop. If anything, it got bolder. That thumb of his? Evil.

Your mouth said no.

Your body said please.

Your brain? Somewhere on vacation.

And Percy? He knew it.

“Mmm,” he practically purred, his mouth dragging across your neck like a prayer. “You’re already warm for me. Or should I slide my other hand between your thighs just to check?”

You hissed. Not because you were mad. Because he knew what he was doing, and he was good at it. Too good.

You hated him.

(You really didn’t.)

He shifted again, just enough so you could feel every inch of him pressed against your ass—hard, hot, very interested.

This was supposed to be sleep. Just sleep. Healing. Recovery.

And now your idiot boyfriend was tempting you into another kind of cardio.

“You are the worst,” you muttered.

Percy chuckled into your skin again. “Your worst,” he corrected smugly.

Gods help you.

It was going to be a long night.

And you were definitely not going to be walking straight in the morning.

You should’ve said no.

Simple. One syllable. One word. Easy.

Instead, you let Percy keep going, like your self-control had clocked out ten minutes ago and left your dignity behind with it.

Because the moment his hand slipped lower—slow, teasing, criminally gentle—you were gone.

Gone like your patience when the Aphrodite kids gave unsolicited advice.

Gone like Percy’s towel whenever you walked by the bathroom in shorts.

You bit your lip hard when his fingers brushed against your inner thigh, featherlight, barely there. Your legs tried to clamp shut on instinct, but Percy tsked softly and gently nudged one knee aside with his own, making space for mischief.

“So tense,” he whispered against your ear, his breath hot and smug, his tone that particular kind of gentle that meant he was feeling cocky and dangerous. “Thought I was supposed to be helping…”

You choked on a sound—somewhere between a groan and a desperate laugh. “You’re helping me forget the pain by replacing it with another,” you muttered, sarcastic, though even you could hear the tremble in your voice.

He loved that.

You could feel the grin stretch across his lips right before he bit down gently on your earlobe, making your hips jerk toward his hand completely on reflex. Which—unfortunately for your pride—he noticed.

“Oh?” He chuckled darkly, pressing his palm over the heat between your thighs, cupping you through the thin fabric of your panties. “Was that a twitch of approval, or do I need to verify?”

Gods.

He was a tease.

You also really wanted to slap the smug out of him, except you were currently paralyzed by the way his fingers were dragging slow, deliberate circles over your clothed heat—light enough to frustrate, precise enough to make your spine arch like it had a mind of its own.

“Percy…” you warned, though your tone was closer to a whimper than anything intimidating.

He hummed, pleased, and finally—finally—slipped his fingers beneath your panties. Just enough to touch skin. Just enough to ruin you.

His hand was warm. His touch? Pure sin.

“You’re soaked,” he muttered against your skin, as if surprised, like it wasn’t entirely his fault. “Poor thing… all sore and still dripping for me.”

If you had any brain cells left, they all screamed in protest.

But then he slid one finger between your folds, slow and deliberate, and just like that—complete silence in the upper chamber. Nothing but static and Percy’s voice whispering against your neck.

“Still hurts?” he asked sweetly.

You turned your head just enough to glare at him over your shoulder, but it lost some edge when his thumb brushed your clit, and you gasped—too sharp, too honest.

He grinned like he’d won. Because he had.

“Yeah,” you breathed, almost delirious, pressing your forehead against the pillow. “Still hurts. Everywhere. Especially my pride.”

He laughed again, and you felt it vibrate against your back, his chest flush to you. “I could try kissing it better,” he offered in that voice that really should not be legal.

“You’re a menace,” you muttered, even as you rocked your hips into his hand, seeking more, begging for more without saying a word.

“Only for you.”

Another kiss, another swipe of his fingers, and suddenly, your body wasn’t so sore anymore. Not in that way.

Your mind tried to hang on to the original plan—rest, sleep, recovery—but Percy Jackson had other ideas. Warm, slow, maddeningly good ideas.

And you?

You were doomed.

Because he was the one person who knew exactly how to take you apart.

Softly. Sweetly. One touch at a time.

[stellamarielu]

I am LOVING the pope and neighbor drabbles! how do you think he would feel if she showed up at one of the wild parties? like he arrives late to find her just standing there looking so out of place, i think he'd probably go crazy wanting to get her out of there immediately because she's just so innocent and shouldn't be around these people

i think you are 10000% right! also, i've decided to tag all of my thoughts for this duo with neighbor!pope cody so if you click on that tag under any of my posts you can follow along with all the little drabbles— kinda like a series but much less official!

content: alcohol consumption and fluffy mutual pining

The boys take notice at how Pope is always at your place; the way his body stiffens when they bring you up over dinnertime conversation.

His very obvious interest in you, leads Craig to invite you over to one of the parties erupting in their backyard. It’s not massive, just some friends getting together over good music music, and some drinks. At least that’s what he tells you when you pull into your driveway that night, as he somehow convinces you to come by.

You're on your second beer— or maybe third— definitely your third, and far more talkative than usual. The giggles erupting from your lips are practically unsolicited as you talk to the youngest Cody brother, sitting across form him at the table on the back patio. There’s people surrounding you— taking shots, doing lines, one of them just got thrown into the pool— but you’re just sitting, sharing a beer with Deran, and despite the chaos unfolding in every direction, you feel comfortable.

Your moment of contentment doesn’t last long as a brooding figure looms over you, broad and sturdy. Andrew is almost statuesque, the way he stands before you blocking your view of the backyard.

“You shouldn’t be here.” His presence is sudden, and his voice is steady as he speaks down at you.

“What are you? Her keeper?” Deran's voice cuts between you from his place across the table, his beer bottle waiting on his lips through a smile.

Andrew’s stare shoots daggers at his brother, nostrils flared.

“It’s fine! Craig invited me, I'm having fun.” The giggle trailing your overly excited sentiment makes pope’s stomach turn. You’re drunk.

“C’mon I’ll walk you home.” He doesn't take his eyes off Deran who’s still smirking into his drink.

You glance between the two brothers, neither of them backing down in their unspoken stand off.

“Ok boss.” Unbeknownst to you, your voice slurs as you stand up from your chair.

The alcohol in your system causes you to miscalculate just how close you are to Andrew. There's a slight wobble in your stance, and you're practically fumbling into his chest.

His hands shoot out to your waist, holding you steady before you've even realized your own instability. You look up at him through your lashes, hiding the chuckle that threatens to pour from your chest at your sudden clumsy demeanor.

With Andrew's grip still on your body, you turn your head to the side, nodding at his brother who’s still watching the two of you with the same smug smile pushing at his cheeks.

“Goodnight Deran.” The warm look you send his brother’s way unleashes a familiar fluttering in Pope's chest, as he uses his hold on your waist to maneuver your body so you're walking with him toward the back gate.

He keeps a hand on you as you make your way across the street. Even though you've gained your bearings, walking with confidence and a heavy stride, he cant bring himself to let go of you. Shamelessly indulging in the feeling of your soft skin under his fingertips as your shirt rides up just an inch.

“Your brothers are nice. That’s the most I’ve talked to them…”

You nearly trip on the curb in front of your house as you try to talk, proving you’re incapable of multitasking in your drunken state.

His fingertips tighten at your waist, holding you steady as you traipse through your front yard.

“deran especially, I like him.”

The spill you almost took at the curb doesn't phase you as you continue talking, coming to a pause at your front door.

“Told him I’d go to his bar sometime. Maybe you could take me.”

The words run together as they leave your mouth, and he feels your hand brush against his bicep. Your eyes peer up at him, heavy lidded and hopeful, and his heart nearly stops.

"You shouldn't be around them." He changes the subject slightly, circling back to his brothers, and refusing to acknowledge the way his heart nearly leaps into his throat at the way you’re touching him.

"Why?”

"They're stupid."

"Isn't everybody a little stupid?" There's a silly smile on your lips as you tilt your head to the side, keeping the conversation lighthearted with the sweet tone in your voice.

"They're dangerous."

He ignores your attempt at whimsy with a blunt delivery, and a straight lipped expression.

"I don't want you to get hurt."

This time, his words are more timid— almost kind.

"I'm a big girl Andrew, I can take care of myself."

How ironic, he thinks reminiscing on the past ten minutes that you've spent stumbling over your own feet.

"Plus I've got you around, and you make me feel safe."

Your hand is still resting on his arm, your fingertips applying slight pressure as you offer him gentle smile along with your words.

"My knight in shining armor."

Oh you really must be drunk, because you would never say something so outwardly clichè in a sober state of mind, but the words just slip out, and you don't bother trying to stop them.

You're used to the way Andrew stares, direct and unabashed, but right now, he's looking into your eyes with a softness you'd never seen before. You stare back, trying to read the unfamiliar emotion hiding in his gaze, but then he breaks it, looking away and shaking your hand off his arm.

"You should get some sleep."

He's abruptly wishing you a good night, and stalking off toward his house, disappearing across the street without a single glance back in your direction.

You’re left tipsy and confused on your doorstep, the feeling of his rigid muscles underneath your hand still lingering on your palm.

[a8ofcrows]

I thought you liked navigating rocky terrain | bob floyd

summary: there has been some confusion about the true relationship between you and bradshaw. and even more confusion between you and your flight partner…

warnings: mention of alcohol, not even miscommunication- just pure lack of communication. implied cheating (it doesn’t happen and is a huge misunderstanding) flirting ?? maybe a suggestive comment or two. mention of blood, a *small* bar fight, kissing, bordering on making out , yearning, pining

- ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵃˢᵏ ᵐᵉ ʰᵒʷ ᶦ ᵍᵒᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵃˢᵏ ᵐᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵐᵒᵛᶦᵉ ᶦ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰᵉᵈ

you were sat at the bar by yourself, trying to focus on your book and your drink. the book wasn’t good enough and the drink wasn’t strong enough to distract you fully from the eyes that were on you. you sighed slightly when you heard the squeak of a chair being slid back from the table. you quickly buried your face behind your book, pretending to be interested in it. “good book?” you glanced over the edge of the book slightly, taking in the unfortunate smirking figure eyeing you. “i’ve read better.” you knew if you were too short with your answers, it would just encourage him. jake was still smirking slightly, clearly not getting the hint that he was bothering you. you had only ever called him by his call sign- hangman- or his last name; not wanting to give him the satisfaction of letting him know you remembered his first name. “well, if you want to do something more interesting-“ “i don’t. but thanks…” you glanced around the room slightly, hoping to find someone you actually liked that could save you from this interaction. “come on, sprout.” you had chosen it as your call sign, but you still hated when he used it. “is he bothering you?”

mickey had stepped beside you, eyeing jake coolly.

“yes, actually-“

“we’re just having fun.” mickey looked doubtful, leaning slightly closer to him on the table.

“she’s fine, fanboy. she can tell me if she’s not interested.”

“she already has… at least twenty times.”

your flight partner, and absolute best friend had joined you at the table. he eyed seresin coolly. “give me a break, floyd. this doesn’t involve you. unless it’s just because you just don’t want me screwing your friend. might be a little awkward for you?” bob tensed slightly, expression growing cooler. he pushed his glasses up his nose as stood to his feet. bob didn’t need to stand up. bradley was crossing the room in big strides, posture tense, expression-very clearly pissed off. “is there a problem here?” bradley stepped between you, leaning against the table, eyeing seresin darkly. you put a hand on his stomach, trying to push bradley back slightly. seresin rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply, “oh good… mister overprotective is here.”

“what was that?” bradley pushed your arm away from him- much rougher than he usually would. “what did you say?”

“he was saying he wanted to screw her.”

fanboy gestured to you, a smug smirk on his lips, below his dark expression. bradley snapped his head towards him and playboy actually flinched. he turned his attention to you, then bob, then back to you. you nodded just slightly. bob had taken a few steps back- not wanting to be on the receiving end of that murderous stare ever again. and also wanting to be out of the way for what inevitably came next.

bradley spun around and seresin didn’t even have time to lift his arms in defense. the punch sent him stumbling backwards, hands covering his nose as blood pooled through his fingers. he crashed into a table behind him, tipping the drinks and sending the inhabitants tipping backwards to the floor. people jumped to their feet. shouting started throughout the room and a few people rushed forward, towards the chaos. bob and fanboy held out their arms. fanboy shook his head with a warning expression. seresin was rushing forward now, fists clenched and ready to strike. he missed. bradley ducked and grabbed his shirt sleeve. he shoved him- hard- against the wall, ignoring the cursing and thrashing. he pinned his arms against his back, shoving his head so it was against the wall. “you think i’m overprotective now? you haven’t seen anything.” he released him finally, taking a step back. seresin had murder in his eyes. he spit, sending bloody saliva onto bradley’s shoe. bradley’s expression didn’t change. a twitch in his lip was the only indication that he had even noticed. “don’t talk to her again.” He crossed his arms, rage burning behind his eyes, “don’t even look at her again.” seresin just smirked darkly, eyes blazing with something worse than hate. bradley turned around without even glancing to you, “what are you all looking at? get back to your drinks.” you watched him return to the pool table, releasing a deep breath. you hadn’t realized how tense you were until you had finally breathed again.

“one day they’ll kill each other…” fanboy shook his head, taking a swig of his beer. this had not been the first argument between the two. and it probably wouldn’t be the last. they weren’t always because of you. they could be about absolutely anything- usually stupid things. competition, grabbing the wrong towel or socks in the locker rooms. but this had been the first one that had gotten physical. you just shook your head, finishing your own drink and then fanboy’s. you closed your eyes slightly as the music increased in volume. a smile spread across your lips, “come on, bob.” he was the best flight partner. he was also the best dance partner. “oh, um… no… i- i’m okay.” his posture was tense as he stared down at his unopened beer bottle, fingers tapping against it anxiously. fanboy looked at you in confusion, eyebrows raised slightly. “i actually um-“ bob looked down at his wrist -that didn’t have a watch, “i might actually just go. it’s.. it’s getting late.” fanboy looked at him curiously, “it’s six o’clock?” and he didn’t have a watch. bob turned away, unopened beer abandoned on the table, and started for the door.

“what the hell was that?” fanboy grabbed the unopened beer and popped it open, “that was so…unbob-like?” you didn’t respond, watching bob go with furrowed eyebrows. “he always agrees to dance with you. he agrees to do anything with you…” you just shook your head, your heart thudding solidly in your ears. was he that afraid of bradley? bob wasn’t afraid of anything. not your airborne, turbulent loops, not your tendency for rapid, upward acceleration, not even your nose dives. and certainly not someone he could fair well in a fight against. either way, you were going to find out.

bob was standing on the balcony, looking out towards the water. his posture was rigid- tense all the way throughout his body. his jaw was too clenched, his shoulders were too stiff, and his hands were gripping the banister too tightly. he looked completely unlike himself. he was entirely…unbob-like. you stopped once you were beside him, looking at him in silence. His body was still, like he was holding his breath. “you..okay?” it had been a stupid question. obviously not. “fine.. i’m fine.” his words were tight, like he had to force himself to lie. you nudged him slightly and he flinched. “i just.. i don’t understand.” “understand..? what, exactly?” you turned to face him, reaching for his hand slowly. bob stepped back, pulling his hand off the railing. he was eyeing you like he wasn’t sure who you were. “dancing? why I asked you to dance instead of fanboy? Usually girls ask boys they like to dance because they want to be close to them. it gives us an excuse… i thought you had figured that out by now.” you smirked slightly, a playful expression on your lips. “no.” His tone startled you. you had never heard him speak so shortly, or sound so..final. “stop. please just stop.” the softness returned to him briefly, “that’s not what I mean.” you looked at him questioningly. Expectantly. “you saw him in there! why do you..do this? say the things you do? look at me…with that expression. and those eyes.” you watched him, the pain evident behind his eyes. “bob. what are you—“

“i can’t do it anymore, alright?”

“bob, he wouldn’t even care if it was you.”

“listen to you! did you see how he reacted in there? and you think he would just be fine with me?” you smirked slightly, coughing out a slight laugh. “ironically, he requested that I be paired with you. he thought you would be the least threatening to me.” bob turned to look at you fully, stepping right against you, “you think this is funny?!” you flinched, stepping away from with wide eyes. he had never once spoken to you like that. with that tone. with that much anger behind his words. you weren’t sure he had ever spoken to anyone like that. “look at you…” now he sounded disappointed, which may have been even worse. “i don’t care what kind of weird relationship you have.” relationship? oh. oh no. “i don’t care what weird things he’s okay with. i won’t get in the middle of the two of you. i won’t risk the team dynamics, i won’t risk my position. and I certainly don’t want to get my ass beat. or get shoved into a wall. or get my face broken.” “but bob-“ you tried desperately to explain. to make him understand. to do anything to stop this horrible, horrible situation. “i don’t care if I’m the exception. i’m not going to be the other guy. i don’t want to be involved in an affair. i don’t want to be with a cheater. even if it’s you… i can’t be with you if it’s not..just me. because I know how i feel about you. i hate it. i wish I could get it to go away. but I won’t do this. i- It has to be just us. all or nothing. and I won’t let you to break up with your long term boyfriend for me.” you fought back a gag just at the thought. oh no. oh, dear. this was the worst, most nightmarish situation that could ever happen to anyone in the world.

“robert.”

his name on your lips brought his eyes back to you briefly.

“what the hell are you talking about?”

“please don’t. don’t play dumb with me. it won’t change my mind…”

“it’s bradhsaw! even if it wasn’t our second, i still wouldn’t. i can’t.” the anger had vanished from his face and his voice. he sounded broken. desperate. his voice shook slightly as he darted his eyes away from you, and to the floor.

“robert floyd.”

bob flinched at his full name.

“robert floyd, i love you, but for a genius, you’re being really stupid right now.” his eyes snapped to yours, anger flashing again. he opened his mouth, eyes furrowed. he was hurt by your words, confused. “i-“ you held your hand up, shaking your head slightly, silencing him without words.

“rooster is my brother.”

bob’s eyes widened; he stumbled towards you, nearly collapsing. “your- he’s-“ he let out a desperate, shaky exhale, “what.” you smirked just slightly, eyebrows raised, waiting for him to finish stammering, spiraling, panicking. “your brother.” you nodded, looking at him incredulously, slightly cocky, slightly smug. “he’s your brother. i-“ bob stumbled forward again, clearly forgetting how to function like a normal human being. he crashed into you, nearly knocking you off your feet from the force of it. his lips were on yours without anymore hesitation. he wrapped his arms around you, backing you urgently against the balcony railing. his hands held your hips tightly, leaning into you, bending you over the railing backwards. he was already out of breath, heat rising rapidly through his shirt. You couldn’t breathe. your heart was threatening to burst; or maybe break free, right through your ribs. he finally broke away from your lips, panting, finally needing air desperately enough to force himself to part from you. he swore quietly, closing his eyes, trying to pull himself back together. “i’m sorry.” he took your hand and squeezed, kissing your knuckles, then up your hand, to your wrist, up your arm, up to your neck, your jawline, finally finding your lips again. bob exhaled against your shoulder, kissed it once, nestled his face into your neck. you were out of breath slightly, “you don’t need to apologize for anything.” he kissed you again; now that he had done it once- then several more times- he wasn’t going to stop. “i do. i’m sorry. i’m so sorry for how I spoke to you. and what I said… and for thinking that- that you were..like that.” you just smirked slightly, “robert. stop. we’re okay. we’re just fine…” more than fine. so much more than okay… he breathed a sigh of relief, closing his eyes as he rested his head against your forehead.

“i guess i should have been wearing the name tag with my last name on it this whole time…”

********

a/n: this had to be redone four (4) times and completely restarted once. tumblr really hates me.

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

A/N:This was requested but I cannot find it anywhere!!! I'm sorry I couldn't tag you :( The request was for a mute reader who wasn't a hero working at the tower. Bob becomes a translator for them!

I do have a few follow-up ideas for this let me know if you're interested in one or both! 1. Bob gets jealous of someone at the tower bc they learned ASL and are taking up more of your time. 2. Soft mutual pining with no jealousy (obviously both could be combined lol)

Summary: Working with the Thunderbolts* is a challenge, especially when you don't speak. Thankfully Bob is there to communicate for you.

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Most of the team barely noticed you when you started at the Tower. You weren’t flashy — no special powers or combat gear. You worked in communications, more in the ground support area of things. It was quiet and precise, the kind of work that kept the mission flowing much smoother.

The only thing that would be labeled as special for you was that you didn't speak.

Which meant in a room full of people who were always busy solving problems you were often overlooked… except by Bob.

Bob usually blended into the background himself. He had a talent for disappearing into a room full of larger personalities. It was Bob who smiled the first time you signed “Nice to meet you.” You didn’t expect him to answer, most people just blinked at you awkwardly and waited for you to get your phone out. But Bob, he softly smiled back, and signed, slowly, clumsy but clearly: “Nice to meet you too.”

You stared back at him in disbelief.

He scratched the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish.

“I uh… picked up ASL a while ago. Long story. You’re the first one here who I can use it with.”

From that day on, everything changed.

You didn’t need to rely on text or nods. You could talk-- actually talk and be understood while Bob happily listened. He was patient and kind. He never made you feel like you were less than or an inconvenience. Whenever meetings got chaotic or everyone at the debriefs skipped you over, Bob would awkwardly clear his throat and voice your thoughts aloud. “She says we need to reroute the signal. It’s already compromised.”

No one else understood what you were telling them, but they started paying attention when Bob spoke. And that made him…proud? It gave him something nothing else did, it gave purpose to his life. He wasn’t just in the background anymore. He was your connection to the team. Your translator. Your voice. He was needed. He was important, he was…valued. He never knew that he was missing out on this feeling but he knew he never wanted to miss it again.

He’d walk into the control room just to see if you needed help. He started to pause during drills to check if you were okay. And you started saving little notes for him on post-its. Inside jokes and little drawings. Doodles of him and a speech bubble: “Best Translator Ever.”

He kept that one on his mirror.

One night, after a long hectic day, you both lingered by the Tower windows, watching the rain streak down the glass. The others had cleared out long ago but the two of you stayed in the peace that always seemed to find you when the two of you were together.

You signed slowly: “Thank you for seeing me.” Bob looked at you, and stayed quiet for a long moment. Then he smiled, it was a soft smile, a little sad, but very warm. “You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel like I wasn’t invisible.”

You reached out and brushed your fingers against his arm, a small gesture that made him suck in a breath, a gesture that said: Me too. And in that silence between signs, Bob realized something: You didn’t need words to say everything that mattered.

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If you like my work please let me know! Reblogging, commenting and liking are huge and easy ways to let me know you're enjoying my work and it keeps me motivated to post way more!!! Request are open <3

I have started a taglist for Bob lmk if you'd like to be added <3

@itsjustisa

[phoebebuggers]

teaser preliminary thoughts

the opening scene being joyce and will talking about the vanishing of will byers was a very intentional choice - not only is will the central character this season, with a major plot point revolving around them discovering why and how will went missing and his connection to vecna (which i believe will also tie into holly's disappearance.) for a second i thought this could be a conversation about holly where joyce and will compare her being missing to what happened to will but i'm leaning toward no..it feels personal to me

the majority of the teaser was preexisting scenes, which i guess could be a little disappointing but it seemed like they wanted to ramp up the nostolgia with the st segment overall which is understandable for the show that "made" netflix. i also think we will be seeing those scenes with young will or maybe new ones from his disappearance as flashbacks anyways

edit: just realized i forgot this clip.. robin, will (*the* outfit!!) and erica in the background, not suure who's on the ledge behind joyce...someone let me know if you have a guess on what this wooden structure is, it almost looks like a stable or a barn. there's definitely some crazy shit behind that door, interesting that joyce seems to have a weapon and the other two do not. im really excited to see robin and joyce's dynamic (definitely see that playing a role in willl coming out)

i think there's a possibility that we'll see karen wheeler's character expanded on this season, possibly in tandem with the explanation for mike's behavior in the previous 2 seasons (the wheelers and conformity) as she takes on a role simillar to joyce in season 1. i'm wondering if this shot is before or after holly disappearing - also that one leak about karen getting injured (maybe in the process of protecting holly??) also, with the theme of conformity and ted wheeler generally sucking im wondering if his behavior this season will end up endangering the wheelers

definitely an emphasis on parent-child relationships this season (this is the third one we've seen). i think that we're going to see el and hopper working together in a way similar to the season 3 finale in a way that redeems that tragic ending, where hopper accepts that el isn't a kid who needs to be protected but a strong young woman who needs to be supported. i lowk have no idea what she's covering her ears about though, maybe coming down from projecting somewhere??

on the topic of hopper, rest in peace russia plotline, i have no idea how they're gonna resolve all that in hawkins lmao

seems like dustin is paired with the older teens again...which i lowk hate but it's kind of been that way since season 1 so i get it. i just don't understand the constant need to seperate him from the party. it looks like they might be in hawkins lab here, but i guess it could be anywhere

i was pretty much certain they were gonna show a shot like this in the teaser, max's coma is pretty much the biggest cliffhanger on the last season and they're going to continue to tease that. i love the coloring in this scene, i think we're gonna see lucas alone a lot this season in a more serious light than ever before (season 4 set the stage for this). i also don't see max getting a recovery until well into the second half of the season (but i do think she'll survive). i also think max is going to be up to a lot more than just laying in a hospital bed though, i really see her being able to reach el/vecna/will(?) through her mind and i think her and el will be paired a lot this season (maybe that's wishful thinking)

i think the two biggest mysteries they're hiding from audiences and shushing the cast about are whether max survives and whether byler is happening. and i think both of these things are happening...personally (notice that these two are the only couple shown together in the entire teaser).

this ss is bad but this is either two people (2 lights) or one person alone (1 flashlight and 1 lantern). i really want to know what that pink thing is, it almost looks like a head

mike is the heart of the party, blah blah blah....this shot really is so telling though like he's such a natural protector. i think we're reallly gonna see him return to his roots this season. it looks like the kids behind him are those new friends of erica's, and that's definitely joyce holding someone...they look too small to be will and i dont know why he would be hiding in the back like that anyway so i really dont know who that is. i think this definitely has to do with the vecna/mr whatsit plotline

im assuming erica is with this group as well but for some reason she isn't pictured. it seems like they're trying to introduce a kind of "new gen" of preteens this season which is a questionable choice for a finale but the duffers have always been good at getting us to care about new characters so i have faith.

finally will on his main character shit and the scream that was leaked - my working theory for this scene is that he's sensing something only he would know because of his connection to vecna and warning the other characters, possibly using himself as some kind of bait?? this is mostly a hunch tho. im not sure where he is here, it's definitely not the upside down but it looks kind of industrial?? the floor actually looks like to could be the same as the previous shot with mike but i dont think so

jonathan is getting absolutely ignored to my devastation, not a single feature unless he was the other character in that scene with joyce and the axe. i feel like he's one of the most likely characters to die but i really hope they do something interesting with him

nancy was also mia...we know she and jonathan are paired with steve and dustin at some point (car picture) but not sure what they're up to other than that nancy walk em down wheeler will be there im sure..

im down with the release schedule, we knew it was gonna be in parts and as a college student i am definitely glad it's during holidays/breaks because im going to want to watch asap. the wait might kill me though

on the topic of byler, i don't think this told us anything new but the fact that they didn't show mike with will or el at any point is good news in my opinion. will being front and center and mike taking a leadership role are signs to character development for both of them!!

[ducksido]

If you don’t mind could you do TWST with a disabled yuu? Examples like yuu having a prosthetic leg or is hard of hearing? I think it’s an interesting concept but if you don’t want to do it that’s okay.

Riddle Rosehearts

At first, Riddle is extremely formal and almost a bit stiff around you. Not because of your disability, but because he overthinks how to address it "properly."

He learns quickly that you don’t want to be babied — and that you’ve already lived with your disability long before NRC.

If you have a prosthetic leg, he’ll initially hover when you walk long distances, offering help but eventually respecting your pace.

If you’re hard of hearing, he makes sure to always face you when speaking and uses very clear enunciation. He even quietly studies basic sign language.

After his overblot, Riddle becomes softer. He admires your ability to stand your ground, despite judgment from others—something he himself struggled with under his mother’s rule.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona doesn’t treat you any differently, which you actually appreciate.

If you have a prosthetic leg, he just shrugs. “Doesn’t slow you down in a fight. So what?”

If you’re hard of hearing, he gets a little annoyed when he forgets and talks while turned away—then mutters a quiet “sorry” and repeats himself.

After his overblot, he asks you what your magic-less strength is. He means it.

You end up having very deep, quiet conversations sprawled out under the sun, and he listens to your experiences with a look of real thoughtfulness. He sees you as strong in a way that no Spelldrive trophy could show.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is fascinated and a little panicked at first. He doesn’t want to offend you but is also deeply curious.

If you have a prosthetic, he offers to customize it magically—“For aesthetics, of course! Think—pearl inlays or water-resistant mechanisms?”

If you’re hard of hearing, he gets flustered when you miss parts of a deal pitch and ends up giving you a written contract instead.

After the overblot, he confides in you about his own insecurities. Your ability to walk into a magic-heavy world and still thrive makes him respect you deeply.

He starts checking in with you often, but always tries to play it off like he’s just “running numbers.”

Jamil Viper

Jamil notices your disability immediately but doesn't mention it until you do.

He’s very subtle about offering help — making things more accessible without making a show of it.

You once caught him adjusting the hallway rugs to make them easier for you to walk over.

If you’re hard of hearing, he’s great at non-verbal communication already. He adapts fast.

After the overblot, he starts confiding in you. He sees how you handle people who underestimate you and relates more than you know.

You’re one of the only people he doesn’t feel pressured to impress or outshine.

Vil Schoenheit

If you have a prosthetic, Vil sees you as elegance in motion. He admires how you carry yourself.

If you’re hard of hearing, he ensures all dorm meetings are clear, enunciated, and even scripted if needed.

Vil refuses to let anyone treat you like you're fragile. “Grace comes from how you rise, not what you were given.”

After his overblot, he starts bringing you to self-esteem workshops. Not as a project—but as someone whose presence inspires others.

He often subtly boosts your confidence, calling attention to how stunning or commanding your presence is.

Idia Shroud

At first, Idia hides from you entirely. But then he reads up on your disability online and starts DMing you helpful tips or resources.

If you have a prosthetic, he starts designing game mods to include similar features. You once caught him making a full cyberpunk-style design based on your prosthetic.

If you’re hard of hearing, he offers a magical communication tablet that works like a real-time text screen.

After his overblot, you’re one of the only people he can talk to. You both understand what it’s like to be seen as “different” or “othered.”

He actually builds you assistive tech "just for fun"—but really it's his way of saying he cares.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is extremely respectful. He comes from an old-fashioned place, so he asks many questions—but always with sincere interest.

If you have a prosthetic, he compares you to ancient warriors. “In Briar Valley, such courage would be sung for centuries.”

If you’re hard of hearing, he begins learning sign language with Lilia and ensures you’re always facing him when he speaks.

After his overblot, he tells you you’re a “beacon of resilience.” He says this without romanticizing your disability—he truly honors your strength.

He insists on walking with you at night, never rushing, as you speak about what it’s like to stand tall in a world that tries to shrink you.

[samhadjblog2]

Honestly, I felt the magical plot line enhanced the political one. It is in fact a show built on the idea of magic being obtained and used by non magical beings to enhance lives and/or destroy lives. It's about balance and universal laws and how magic is used or abused in different realities. In the current universe, it is used by those whose intentions are geared towards helping all beings but gets corrupted and used improperly by those who are greedy and oppressive. Also use in weaponry due to perception of threats. It's very realistic that perception is a key element in everything.

Yes that was how the first season went about "The Arcane" in that it was a neutral force that is dependent on the user. However S2 states that "The Arcane is inherently evil" and that Viktor and Jayce should of never used it. On top of being a parasitic virus that infects everything and whose own goals are to destroy the world.

Perception of the other is changed by a joint effort at a common cause and it leads to taking steps towards healing and changing the perception from "you're different and that makes you a threat" to "actually you're not as different as we thought and we created these differences over years of oppression; how do we rectify this inequality". And it's shown, not everyone is on board immediately; there will be push back, but there's also more support to make the changes. There's hope, but it will take effort and time

And that's just a cheap way of having the cities work towards peace. Because it has them unite without acknowledging any of the bad that happened to them and in turn they are uniting out of moral obligation to save the world. On top all of this, it just isn't an interesting conflict its giant MCU film. There is no longer any blurred morality its just black and white conflict. The show runners themselves have said in an interview that "Save the worlds story"s aren't character driven".

All of which is discarded in the finale.

That hope leads me to believe we will see more in the future, and I think we will through the other spin offs. Everyone is acting like there's not 3-5 more storylines coming from this same universe and that they won't mention it again; that they won't mention progress later. I think yall just hate the more realistic ending and want to bitch about it not being the happy perfect ending, but that's me.

How do we even know the conflict will mentioned once again, the show glossed over the Ekko's tree as well as the larger ramifications of the anomaly on Zaun's water supply. Nor did it try to explore any possible ramifications to Caitlyn using the Grey.

Also there nothing that indicates that the next 3-5 spin-off's are going to focus on the conflict of Piltover and Zaun and are more focused on other regions.

And even with all of this taken into consideration, why not just make more season of Arcane. The show already rushed through three seasons worth of story. Why make spin-off's when they could of just continue the main series.

Also a lot of the character's story's have concluded in S2. Jinx got to walk away and her story is left up to interpretation. Cait and Vi happy together, Ekko made peace, Mel got her mom's approval, Jayce and Viktor are exploring the out universe. Everything is tied up to the point we don't need further spin-off's to explore them.

Reality isn't perfect and honestly it's kind of nice to see a bit more realistic ending than just "and then everyone on this side was bad so they're all punished and this side will take over and everyone lives happy ever after". (Which is just vindictive retaliation that would just hinder true equally and instead create more oppression just in the other direction; this only repeats the cycle again). That's not a good ending. That's simply, in my opinion, childish thinking.

How is it realistic, the story ended with a "Save the world" narrative in where all the nuance was stripped down to a black and white story. Meanwhile with the class conflict there was no good guys or bad guys. And its not like the show "had" to end with the two sides making peace rather that the focus shouldn't have been moved away from the more interesting messy conflict of the two cities.

It ended how it was supposed to, with hope for a better future and with people willing to fight for and put effort into that future. Honestly, I feel if they would've done the "happy ending," that would've been dropping the political plot more so by glossing over the hardships and effort it takes to correct the inequalities. It would've been lying to the audience about how hard it is to course correct after decades of oppression and classist torture. The effort, the hope, and the work it takes to fix a broken system is not easy, and the war destroyed that system and created better perceptions, which allowed for change to start. So, without the magical plot, the political one would be non-existent; the cycles would've continued and hope would be lost. But that's just my opinion.

They only fought to save the world. And as the writers have stated. That isn't a choice rooted in interpersonal choices. Also no one was asking the show to just "have the conflict resolve over night" rather that it comes off as if the the show is resolving the conflict completely after this one war the equalizes everyone.

If enjoyed S2, good for you, I'm glad you found something you enjoyed. However i wanted to share why so many people had issues with Season 2's ending.

Don't you just love it when the actual meat and bones of the narrative—the class conflict and the nature of privilege and wealth—get dropped because the show wants its MCU magic zombie fight?

[withwritersblock]

Feels Like Part 4

~Feels Like by Gracie Abrams~

Author's Note: some more Nico for you all :) Summary: Katherine's new chapter really hits a new stride and Nico hits a stall in his game. Warnings: nothing really Word count: 2,547 masterlist

Quinn was sitting on the couch while she paced back and forth on the phone. She was currently on the phone, practically pleading for a job interview with the Department of English at Rutgers University. She was explaining her interests and past experiences regarding creative writing. 

Quinn expressed that Katherine doesn’t have much to lose in the regards of a job. He simply said, “Why not give them a call, what’s the worst that could happen?” and he was right. 

They were in the process of providing her contact information to send over her resume to them. She thought that they were pulling her string but the email seemed legit enough that she wrote it down.

“Thank you so much, I appreciate it. You have an amazing rest of your day,” she expressed as she hung up the phone. Spinning on her heel, Katherine looked towards Quinn expectantly. 

“Well, what did they say?” he asked urgently with a hopeful grin on his lips.

“She said that I can send over my resume and a few pieces of writings I’ve done over the years to this email address; and they’ll schedule me for an interview. I don’t know if it’ll come of anything but hey, it’s a lead.”

“Exactly, Katie, this is amazing!” Quinn offered as he stood up from the couch. “I’m so proud of you,” he offered as he took a few steps away from her and began to walk towards the kitchen. “Let me make you some lunch for this occasion,” he said somewhat jokingly.

“Quinn, it’s barely anything,” she said as she took his place on the couch. She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and it was a text message from Jack. He was wondering when she’ll return to Jersey, or if she’ll return. 

Quinn has spent most of the last two weeks Katherine has been in Vancouver trying to convince her to stay. She would have her own bedroom and a potential career. It would be perfect. But she keeps declining the offer. Not because she doesn’t want to spend more time with Quinn, that would be amazing. But it would be a lot harder for her in the long run. 

Katherine soon realized that her little brothers oddly needed her a lot more than she thought. She was barely in New Jersey for a full two weeks and her little brothers were in dire need of their only sister’s guidance.

“It’s the start of your new chapter,” he offered loudly from the kitchen. An evident smile on his lips from the way he spoke. 

“Yes, you’re right, of course,” she said sarcastically as she typed a fast reply to Jack. Informing him that she would be returning to New Jersey on the thirteenth. “But we’ll see, it very well could be nothing,” she said while resting her head on the top of the light blue couch.

“Can you be hopeful for once,” Quinn teased as he started pulling out different pots and pans.

“I’ll be hopeful once I get a job interview.” she shot back before taking in a deep breath.

“I am sure you will, your writing is incredible, Katie,” he reassured from the kitchen.

A soft smile formed on her lips. Only two people in her personal circle were allowed to read her writings. Her high school best friend, Mallory, and Quinn. Katherine never trusted Jack or Luke not to tease her or make fun of her for it. But Quinn loved reading as much as she did. Sometimes Katherine thought that he loved it more than her.

When the boys joined the NHL, Quinn started a sibling book club. It was a text chain they had to discuss the books they were reading. Luke was a part of the group chat but didn’t start reading until this season. He contributed information for the first time in September and it was a total shock to Katherine.

“Thanks, Q.”

~~~

Nico was not fond of being late to anything. Except this morning seemed like nothing was going his way. He usually has three alarms for the mornings he has an early skate. The first alarm is to wake him up and the following two are his final warnings. This morning in particular, he completely slept through all three of them.

So he woke up twenty minutes later than normal. Which then threw off his time to shower to losen his muscles. The time to make his breakfast. His breakfast was the exact same every morning. Except this morning, he turned the heat too high on the stove and his eggs were utterly distgusting in taste.

His mind was busy. He couldn’t explain why but his mind couldn’t clear. He could not pinpoint the exact moment his mind wouldn’t slow down but it’s been two weeks of this constant cycle of messing up his schedule. Nico couldn’t even figure out what thoughts were messing with his mind, it was like clouds were floating through his mind instead of actual thoughts. He was lost.

Which led to the worst morning skate of his life. He couldn’t be the captain his teammates deserved because he was so out of sync. He slammed his stick down on the ice after his shot missed the net and made the puck make echoeing slam against the glass. 

“Fuck sake!” he muttered while skating out of the drill towards the benches. He reached down and took a hold of his water bottle and shot water into his mouth. He kept his gaze low onto the bench in front of him. His breathing was fast and unsteady as he continued to stare blankly towards the wooden bench.

Jack skated up beside him as he reached down and took a hold of his own water. He leaned against the half wall looking towards Nico. 

“Are you alright?” Jack asked before he shot water into his own mouth. Nico shrugged before he dropped his water down before he leaned back. He glanced towards Jack, who was in a perfect mood for the morning. He was making every shot, the puck seemed to move perfectly on his stick. 

“Just a shit day,” Nico mumbled as his scanned the eyes. He watched each of his teammates, he admired how they moved effortlessly and recovered quickly once they made a mistake. 

“Any reason why?” he asked him. 

“Just haven’t been sleeping well,” he said quietly as he watched Dawson wrist a shot towards the net and it went in perfectly. Nico nodded as he started skating towards the next drill, leaving Jack in his wake.

Jack followed after him instantly, “My sister is coming back today. Do you want to join us for lunch after I pick her up?” Jack asked as he skated a few feet behind Nico.

Nico spun around and began skating backwards, he was furrowing his eyebrows harshly. “I appreciate the offer, but you haven’t seen your sister for almost two weeks. Catch up or whatever,” he instantly dismissed the idea, a forced chuckle fell from his lips. 

Jack scowled towards him as he let out a scoff. Jack smirked as he leaped towards Nico teasingly as he shoved him back. Nico stumbled on his skates for only a moment before a small smile formed on his lips.

“It’ll clear your mind of whatever is affecting your game so much. Katie was asking about you after the game against the Oilers.” Jack said as he skated away from Nico towards a pile of pucks. He began to puck handle as he raised his gaze towards Nico. “You took a hard fall into the boards and she wanted to know if you were alright. I told her you were fine, clearly that was a lie,” Jack spoke while glancing towards Nico every few seconds. 

“There is no lie, I’m alright. I don’t even remember which one you're talking about,” Nico said with a forced grin on his lips. He followed Jack in pursuit and took a puck of his own and began to do his usual puck handle drills. Slowing his breathing, he tried to focus solely on the puck and nothing else. 

He failed as the puck escaped him and another curse word fell from his lips as he tossed his head back. Without hesitation, he took another puck and began the process over and over again. He couldn’t figure out what was plaguing him and it was driving him insane. 

“Alright, you’re coming with Katie and I. You need to clear your mind before tonight, this is becoming embarrassing dude,” Jack stated as he shot the puck towards the empty net from the blue line. It hit the top left corner of the goal perfectly. 

Nico straightened his posture as he tapped his stick to the ice while tilting his head to the side. “You think you’re so funny,” Nico let out while rolling his eyes.

“I do, thank you,” Jack said while he took another shot towards the net and hit the post. Nico followed in pursuit and wrist one towards the net, missing it by several feet. “Damn,” Jack muttered for both of their missed shots. “I don’t hear you objecting, so you’re coming with–amazing,”

“Why isn’t Rusty going with you?” Nico asked as he took another attempt at a shot towards the net. The puck hit the net dead center, Nico still was not satisfied with it.

“He’s got some lunch date today, I don’t know he wouldn’t say much about it,” Jack said as their assistant couch hollered towards them to wrap it up. Nico nodded towards him as he skated towards the bench, with or without Jack; he didn’t care. 

“Got it, I drove here though, so it would be an inconvenience if–” 

“I’ll pick you up on the way, your place is on the way to the airport anyway.” Jack offered, a smug grin on his lips. “We’ll fix you right up before tonight, promise,” 

They started walking down the tunnel together as Nico took off his helmet. “Why do you want me to go to lunch with you and your sister so bad? It’s weird man,” Nico said while laughing. 

“Because you are in a pissed off mood and my sister is sad from leaving Vancouver. Time with Jack-a-boy will fix that for you both,” 

“Please don’t ever call yourself that again,” Nico said while shoving him away. Jack barked out a laugh while shaking his head. 

Jack kept his promise and drove to Nico’s apartment on the way to the airport. Nico didn’t have any more objections. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to spend time with Katherine. He enjoys being around her. She’s funny and good at conversation. It was the first time that he’s spent any time with her since he’s known Jack. She was always with Trent every time he saw her and he was given clear signals to leave her alone.

But with Trent out of the picture, Nico realized how kind and sweet she was too. Sure, it was one evening together in Vancouver but she truly was an amazing person to be around. 

But Nico was not in the mood to socalize. He was in the mindset to just pumble the Bruins during tonight’s game. He was not in the mood to have lunch with his closest friend and his sister. His sister, who he still barely knows. 

Nico sat in the front seat, his arms crossed over his chest. He stared towards the cars in front of them in the passenger pick up line that seemingly was not moving. “Dude, seriously what’s gotten you so pissed off? It seriously can’t still be the game from Sunday.” Jack asked as he smacked his hand against the steering wheel. Mainly out of frustration towards the line unwilling to move. 

Katherine had been waiting outside for nearly twenty minutes at this point. 

“Honestly, I don’t know. I haven’t been sleeping,” Nico let out as he glanced towards Jack for a second before he pulled his phone out and began scrolling on his phone.

“Have you spoken to the trainers about it?” Jack questioned as the cars finally started moving in front of them. He straightened in his seat as he lifted his foot off of the break.

“What are they gonna do? Give me drugs, I don’t need that,” Nico spat as he shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll get out of it, can’t force it, ya know?” 

Jack took in a hesitant breath as he turned up the music slowly on his steering wheel. Jack hummed along to the song as he looked for his sister once they arrived at the passenger pick up section. She was standing near the middle, a small smile on her lips once she saw Jack’s car.

He pulled up to the side, putting the car into park momentarily. Katherine pulled open the back door and tossed her suitcase inside. Slowly, she climbed in. “Hey J!” she let out as their eyes met. She buckled her seatbelt as she watched Nico spin his head around to meet her eye. “Hey Nico,” she said as their eyes connected. A soft smile formed on Nico's lips once he met her light eyes. He nodded as he forced his gaze back ahead.

“Katie, we are on a mission to cheer Nico up. Do you have any bright ideas?” Jack offered as he began driving away from the passenger pick up chaos.

Nico let out a soft laugh as he turned his gaze towards Jack. “I thought this was to cheer us both up?” Nico questioned. 

“Yeah, no,” Jack muttered.

“Jack texted me when I landed that you were not having a good few days. So I asked for you to join us for lunch,” she offered.

Nico turned his head around to meet her gaze again. He felt his heart start to beat faster, the longer he looked into her intoxicating blue eyes. “You wanted me to come with?” he asked somewhat suspiciously.

She nodded while maintaining eye contact with him. “Playing the Bruins tonight, can’t stand the Bruins. Need you to get your head into the game,” she teased. He chuckled while rolling his eyes playfully. Jack started singing the song from High School Musical to mock her word choice. 

“But–” she cut Jack’s horrible singing off, “In all seriousness, I am still getting over everything that happened but I have something to celebrate.” she offered towards the two of them. “So, if this celebratory lunch doesn’t cheer you up then maybe being really physical at tonight’s game can change that,” she said with a grin.

“What’re you celebrating?” Jack asked as he glanced towards her through the rear view mirror. She smiled widely before taking in a deep breath. 

“I am going to be teaching creative writing at Rutgers next semester. So I will not be living on your couch for much longer,” she offered happily.

“That’s amazing Katie!” Jack cheered.

Nico turned around meeting her gaze again and smiled softly towards her, “Exciting new chapter, then huh?” he asked as he winked towards her. She felt a blush form on her cheeks as she nodded. She felt a smile creep up on her lips before she dropped her gaze towards her lap.