#when i start typing i lose the ability to think

[evil-fact-checker]

First, the Chomsky quote often referenced (“ChatGPT is high-tech plagiarism; it avoids learning instead of promoting it”) is more of a philosophical jab than a nuanced critique. Chomsky is defining “learning” in a very specific, human-centric, generative grammar kind of way. He’s not wrong that LLMs don’t “learn” like people do—but people don’t always learn like people should, either. If you're Googling every five seconds and never internalizing anything, are you really learning? ChatGPT just mirrors that with a slicker UI.

Now to mossghoul: there’s a deep irony in their post. They're lamenting the loss of writing ability, self-expression, and reading comprehension… in a block of text that reads like an angry screed from someone who hasn’t actually spent time seeing how people use LLMs creatively. They reduce every use case to laziness, when the reality is a lot more complicated.

Sure, some people are using ChatGPT to avoid doing their homework. That’s always going to happen with new tools. But others use it to get unstuck, to explore tone, structure, or clarity, or as a conversation partner for sharpening ideas. And what about people with dyslexia, ADHD, or ESL learners? Or working-class users using AI to bridge education gaps? Not everyone has the luxury of treating writing as a sacred rite of passage.

So yeah, is ChatGPT about avoiding learning? It can be. But so can textbooks, tutors, and even professors, if you approach them as shortcuts instead of scaffolding.

The original tweet was about visual arts. people not wanting to put in the hard labour of becoming an artist

Ah, that gives it even more bite—because visual art, like writing, demands time-consuming skill-building, but the AI shortcut feels more dramatic there. You go from years of life drawing and color theory to typing “sad frog in a surreal neon landscape” and getting instant results. It's no wonder traditional artists feel like something essential is being skipped—or stolen.

Chomsky’s critique (and mossghoul’s spin on it) hits harder in this context. Visual art has long been a domain where labor and suffering are part of the mythos: drawing until your hand cramps, studying anatomy until you hate shoulders, developing a style through endless frustration. The idea that you can bypass all of that with a prompt feels, to some, like cheating—not just practically, but spiritually.

That said, there’s a dangerous elitism brewing in mossghoul’s framing. Not everyone has the time, health, or money to spend 10 years mastering oil painting. And what do we say to the 15-year-old making weird AI collages on their phone and learning composition from it, even if it’s not “real” art?

The deeper problem isn’t AI per se, it’s the cultural demand for constant output and aesthetic polish without time for learning. The real tragedy isn't that people use AI to make art. It’s that people think art is only worth doing if it looks already finished, right away.

I suspect we'll be losing more than we're gaining with you ChatGPT

You’re not alone in feeling that loss might outweigh the gain. There is a real trade-off here, especially when speed and ease start replacing deep engagement. Chomsky’s comment—about AI being a way to avoid learning—is not a luddite’s tantrum. It’s a warning about what happens when tools are used not to amplify human creativity, but to replace the effort that builds it.

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

Yandere (human sized) ant colony/ alien hive? Love this blog btw

Aight, so I have this issue. I had the biggest lesbian fantasy when reading this ask, and I have no idea what you want (which is not insult btw I also frequently have no idea what the fuck I want). This isn't just you, dear anon, quite a few people crawl up to me on all fours with amazing ideas, but no genders or sexual orientations. For me, that's fine, gender neutral protagonists with vaguely described genitalia getting loved on by men, women, parasitic alien life forms that reproduce asexually, are all my jams. But I feel bad assuming that you are like me, and don't care about the gender of the yandere(s).

Did you know there are ant colonies that are all female, because the Queen reproduces asexually, creating clones of herself, but there is evidence to suggest that (similarly to the lesbian lizard species) they still have sex, just because it feels good?

Let me know, what you had in mind, because if you were hoping for something else I'll start writing something for you, but I'm still going to write the lesbian ant inspired alien colony.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[jiminrings]

higher power

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 11k

glimpse: waiting for jungkook to love again doesn't guarantee you a permanent romantic spot in his life, even if you've been in love with him the longest.

alternatively, you promised yourself to keep confessing to jungkook, your brother's best friend, every year until you turn twenty-eight.

[ fluff, angst, Drastic Yearning that it's painful to watch, tangled with the take five universe yippeeee, slippery slopes, mentions of cheating (there's none in actuality), jungkook's a bit mean :(, lots of self-deprecation n the concept of having to deserve love, mentions of surgery (appendectomy if we r being specific), homage to agust d's 28 (i fucking love u yoongi i miss u), arguments, redemption ]

notes: bring back men who YEARN!!! 😑😑

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

There's a step in your childhood home's staircase that Jungkook always trips on.

Your dad, and even your brother, Yoongi, repeatedly vow to fix it whenever they hear the all too familiar sound of Jungkook tripping on it. The way he’d wince because of it every single time is comedic, if not extremely endearing, because Jungkook would always clamp his hand down on his mouth as to not disturb anyone.

Doing his very best each time, Jungkook would have to clutch the banister as he waits for the pain to subside. He wants to groan loudly with everything that he has, but he can’t risk putting your dad in trouble with your mom by yelling at him to stop hurting Jungkook from delaying the repair of the step.

He even wants to collapse in pain sometimes (Jungkook’s not joking when he says that he almost wiped out so hard to the point that he only saw white and started tasting colors), but he tries not to, because if he falls and makes a commotion, he knows you’d immediately stand up and forfeit the already limited computer-borrowing hours you have because of Yoongi.

“I’d fix the step for you, y’know?” you mutter under your breath as you try to keep your laughter at bay, once again serving as the crutch to your brother’s best friend who’d completely entertain the possibility that your family has it out for him, if not for all the warmth that you give him. “If only Yoongi would lend me his computer for more than an hour and I didn’t have a ton of requirements, I could really hack it out with a single video.”

“Of course you will,” Jungkook snorts under his breath, his inability to feel embarrassment over being critically profiled by your one (1) wooden step (because he’s just gotten hurt so repeatedly that it’s nothing new for him) being overtaken by his raging ability to feel shy, just because it always has to be you to pick him up.

It can’t be anyone else at this point.

It can’t be your brother, because all Yoongi would do is attempt to fix the step with his stock knowledge (to which there is none), and Jungkook knows he would be in further danger if his friend takes a crack at it. It can’t be your parents either, because your mom is a little too wired to the point that she’d want to replace the whole staircase if she sees a mismatched, temporary fix, and your dad is a little too lax to the point that he’s the type to ask Jungkook what color he tastes as his version of a pain scale.

It has to be you, because although everyone in the house has seen Jungkook at his worst at all his various points of life, you’re yet to lose your faith in him.

It’s not to say that your family has already lost respect for him (not even by a long shot), but Jungkook figures that it can’t be that bad letting you in because amongst everyone, the lowest point you know him by is him just being extremely upset over his girlfriend breaking up with him and that’s it.

While your parents know about him sleeping over in your house meant he fought with his very own and couldn’t stand staying in his room for another second, or how Yoongi knows that Jungkook’s strapped for cash because the latter keeps pacing in their dorm trying to panic-clean as he waits for callbacks from part-time jobs he applied for — the only low that Jungkook lets you see is him being distraught over his first love.

Jungkook doesn’t get idolized that much. He’s not a prized son like how your brother is, and neither is he known in college for being smart. He’s not actually a superlative like how he knows you think of him, and the realization of your crush on him makes Jungkook feel conflicted whether it rains or pours.

He doesn’t like you like that, but that’s never stopped you before.

You know about Sora and how first loves have this intoxicating, vice-like grip on everyone, along with the fact that even glancing at an upset Jungkook makes you upset, but that’s never hindered you before.

He wants to let you down as gently as he could, because the last thing he ever wants to do is make his best friend’s sister develop a complex from being rejected. Jungkook knows he’s handsome (read: he’s attempting to be humble), and kind, and maybe even charming on a good day; above all, he’s realistic.

He doesn’t want you to depend on him— he thinks definitively as you glare at him through the rear-view mirror from the backseat, because you mistakenly assumed that the extra can of coffee in the cup holder was for you instead of Sora whom he was tasked to pick up right after you, and Yoongi had to correct you with a snicker.

Jungkook doesn’t want you to depend on him— he thinks hesitantly as he hears you shriek from the bottom of the staircase.

“Shit! God, that fucking-…” you seethe, attempting to keep yourself stable in all fours right after tripping on Jungkook’s cursed step. It’s never hurt any of you before except him, and now that it finally does, you don’t get how he could’ve kept quiet all this time.

Jungkook rushes down and Yoongi comes after, the latter cussing under his breath as he heads back to his room to retrieve his first-aid kit and (hopefully) patch you up with what he’s learning in pre-med.

“What happened? Don’t tell me you were trying to break in your heels again,” Jungkook chastises you as he gets you to sit upright, the frustrated and pained tears cornering from your eyes immediately making him apologetic with his approach.

“I wasn’t! You sound just like Yoongi,” you spit, keeping in a sniffle with your arms across your chest, looking away to hide your tears because you don’t want Jungkook to see just how badly you’re torn over your ankles and knees burning.

He deflates at that, pinching his nosebridge as he tries to calm himself down with the sound of Yoongi bounding down the stairs with a first-aid kit and his notes like it’s some return-demonstration, except he can actually practice on you.

“I’m sorry. I just thought you were doing something-…” Jungkook apologizes, the word stupid being cut off from his lips, not only because Yoongi’s shooing him away, but because he can’t bring himself to stomach the gaze you have directed at him.

Jungkook does back away, with very little coaxing, as he disappears when Yoongi starts asking you if you’re in pain anywhere else with the most serious, professional voice you’ve ever heard him pull.

While your brother fixes your ankle up at the bottom of the stairs, Jungkook soon appears behind you with your dad’s toolbox and the most unreadable look to his face.

While Yoongi dashes to his room again to look for his camera to take a picture of the work he did on your ankle alone so he can reference it later, Jungkook washes his hands in the kitchen sink before patting a damp, clean towel to your knees.

Jungkook’s not in pre-med, and he doesn’t live in your house either.

What he is, is your brother’s best friend who’s extremely apologetic.

"Thanks. Love you," you mumble out of habit, meaning the words sincerely even if they leave your mouth every time someone does something remotely sweet towards you.

You still mean them nonetheless, and the prospect of repeating your sentiments doesn’t seem so bad when it’s him.

You’re eighteen when you first confess to Jungkook.

"I'm just patching your knee up...?" he trails off in confusion, later laughing when he finally sees the shake of your head that lets him know that you, too, felt embarrassed.

You still mean them regardless, even if you feel like taking them back.

You’re eighteen when Jungkook fixes the step in the staircase of your childhood home, not because it always trips him, but because you did that one time.

( ♡ )

Jungkook has a habit of coming over unannounced.

In between all your parents' insisting that your house is also his for him to run to anytime, to your brother realizing that being friends with Jungkook meant having to see him in unhealthy doses because he has no other choice, Jungkook effectively integrated himself to the quilt of your life.

He's a lived-in, well-loved shirt that's cut up and fashioned into a granny square, along with a hundred other versions of him that you've had the privilege of seeing; it's actually ironic because Jungkook's left a lot of his items, of himself, both in your childhood house and your shared apartment with your brother, and he's never batted an eye once about their whereabouts.

Jungkook doesn't question why your parents posted a picture of your old beloved dog wearing a shirt of his from elementary to Facebook, but he does save the picture immediately and make it his wallpaper.

He doesn't question either why Yoongi's cap collection is growing and why he keeps insisting that he bought it himself (even if Jungkook can still place the faint smell of his shampoo on it), but he does make sure every now and then to actually gift him one in exchange for the uncountable favors your brother's done for him.

Most importantly, Jungkook doesn't question you either when he sees his hairtie on your wrist when you open the door for him.

He knows not to bring up anything about your crush over him (not unless it's you starting the conversation about Your Feelings For Him, which practically happens only once a year), or how he really hates it when his hairties go missing. Even Yoongi isn't spared from his annoyance, because in Jungkook's defense, your brother's too rich to go steal from the godsend, usually-expensive ten-pack that he managed to buy on sale.

Jungkook doesn't point out the red elastic on your wrist. He ignores the starry-gazed look you only have for him, except now, your eyes are only narrowed and hollow over his sudden appearance.

That's the only thing he can't shake off.

"Is your brother home?" he asks his original intention for his visit, shifting his weight from one foot to another because of the lackluster, blank gaze you have on that keeps piercing him. "You okay?"

"Won't be home for another hour."

Jungkook laughs at your curt reply, eyes widening in sarcasm as he shakes his head, the snort that leaves him catching him off-guard too. He can’t place why he’s annoyed over the possibility of you being any less than delighted to see him, and truly, he’s trying not to sound like a narcissist; he’s only ever really cared about his image when you were concerned.

"That was a lot of attitude."

You and Jungkook don't really fight. You don't fight with each other because there's barely anything that you disagree about, but when you do fight with him (not if), it's unlike any of the fights you have with Yoongi.

You don't fight with Jungkook as if he's your brother, because he's not.

You don't fight with him either as if he's only your brother's friend, because you don't want him to be.

With Jungkook, there's guilt that settles in your bones when you don't reconcile before you go to sleep. There's an unspeakable force that actually makes you doubt yourself, when usually, you'd know to your gut that you were in the right every single time you fought with Yoongi.

With Jungkook, you don't get an unspoken promise that you'll just forget about whatever happened.

It's him, after all.

"Hey, woah. What's wrong with you?" Jungkook reacts with a frown when you refuse to grace him with a reply, following you into the apartment with a firm grasp on your forearm.

It's not the first time you've ever turned your back on because you didn't want to talk, and it's not the first time either that he's had to physically chase after you. Jungkook's been through this before: he's been through it as the occasional referee between you and Yoongi on your heated fights growing up. He knows how quickly you could shut yourself off, but he didn't know it would feel this weird being at the receiving end of it.

He didn't know it would feel this jarring.

"Nothing. Let me go," you mutter, jerking your arm away from him that only makes Jungkook huff.

He's supposed to be understanding, that much he knows. He's supposed to be the older, mature one between you both, but there's just something about you being short with him that makes Jungkook feel rewired, for better and for worse.

"So something is wrong with you," he insists, rolling his eyes when he follows you even into the kitchen, the two of you knowing well that you're just passively opening the fridge (and a hundred other cupboards) so you could lose him.

"Can you leave me alone?"

"You opened the door for me, sweetheart," Jungkook sarcastically hums, the smile on his face even more insufferable than your furrowed brows that have not loosened even once since seeing him.

"Because you're clearly here for Yoongi," you remind, the edge of your voice slamming harder than the last drawer against its base. Jungkook would wince about it if only he hadn’t spent the better part of your entire interaction loathing the way you talk to him, making his ears ring.

"Can't I be here for you too?" he offers, the sincerity coming across as half-baked pity into your system.

Jungkook didn't even look sure with his own question.

The roll of your eyes makes Jungkook even more annoyed, his irritation bordering on anger that he can't even place. He didn't even get this worked up over his fights with your brother, and the two of them have even went so close as to getting physical multiple times.

"What was that for?"

"You're clearly lying," you mutter, settling for folding your clothes angrily right in front of him. You’re not even fazed that you’re just three sleep shirts away from folding your own underwear in front of him because it’s the least of your concerns.

Now, the only thing you can think about is how Jungkook’s beyond clueless. For all you know, he doesn’t even care about why you’re acting the way you were because simply (and realistically, in your case) put, Jungkook just wants you to remain the same. He just wants you to remain as the mainstay, familiar figure everywhere he goes who makes him feel better just by giving him a default, love-sick glance and nothing less.

You’re not a dog waiting around for him by the front door.

You think you’re more of a mutt waiting to be seen at the porch when nobody else inside wants to do his tricks.

"What are we even talking about right now?" Jungkook nudges the laundry basket away with his foot, the scowl you give him making him shrink momentarily. "You're the one who's starting something and I literally just got here."

"I'm not starting anything."

"Then why won't you tell me what's wrong, huh?"

The simple and seemingly mundane question makes you dart up, unceremoniously dropping the same shirt you’ve been pretending to fold in the neatest, tightest rectangle as possible.

You should be relieved at the prompt because it meant you didn’t have to bring it up out of nowhere. You should be happy at the cue because whatever you’ll answer, it would mean that Jungkook asked for it.

You should be anything but the way you’re feeling now with the words scratching your throat from the inside, because with your feelings out in the open (even more than what you’ve already given time and time again), you feel even more tense.

"Why didn't you tell me you and Sora were back together?"

Jungkook expected everything but the simple, one-dimension question. He didn’t anticipate for you to ask something that he could give you an answer to but refuse to. He just sits beside you, eerily still with the dumbest look on his face that keeps pleading you to just drop this even if you barely even started, his wide eyes blinking with confusion.

"I didn't-..." he clears his throat, looking down on his lap briefly because looking at you the whole time, as he composes his words, would mean his defeat. He didn’t know exactly why or how he’d be losing by looking at you directly as he professes the truth, but all he knows for sure is that however he does it, you’d never be the winner. “I didn't think I had to tell you, Y/N," he laughs uneasily. "I know you're not exactly the biggest fan of her."

"Neither is Yoongi, but he still got to know," you chuckle dryly, the shrug of your shoulder being far too lax that it convinces neither of you that you were really okay with it.

"Because he's my best friend," Jungkook exasperates, the tired sigh that leaves his lips making you buckle by the knees despite being seated.

You never wanted to disappoint him. You never wanted to be looked down upon, most especially by Jungkook, because every little detail adds up into your head like an overtired piggy bank you don’t ever want to let go of, even if keeping it close to you means it would lose its value.

You’re keeping score, even if Jungkook never did. You’re more wired than he’ll ever be, and just the slightest slip of his attitude (even the tiniest upset sigh from his lips or a clench of his jaw) makes it known to you that he wouldn’t understand how it feels to be pathetically reliant over the slightest chance at love.

"Am I not?" you snap. "Will I just be Yoongi's little sister to you forever?"

"Stop putting words in my mouth. You know that's not what I meant," he spits defensively, brows knitting in genuine disdain because he can’t even think how a vile thought has ever crossed your mind.

"Then finish the sentence, Jungkook," you goad. “If I'm not your best friend, and if I'm not your best friend's sister either, what exactly am I?"

Jungkook sharply sucks in a breath, screwing his eyes shut as you mess with every last bit of his inhibition. He never liked fighting with you, and whenever you actually did, he’d be ridden with guilt even before said fight is concluded. He doesn’t like hurting you that way because Jungkook knows, truly, that he’d be more capable of inflicting it on you than you ever could for him.

Or so he thinks.

He knows he does it every time (even if he shoves the fact deep to the back of his memory) that he comes around. He knows he does every time he gives you either a carefree laugh or a sorry hand on the small of your back every time you confess.

He even knows he’s hurting you now.

"I didn't tell you because I know you would disapprove."

"When has that ever stopped you?" you scoff, the soft, lived-in quality of the hairtie on your person suddenly making your wrist itch. ”If I never saw her story, that's just it then? If I never asked Yoongi, you wouldn't tell me?"

"Why's it such a big deal?" Jungkook throws his head back in disbelief, briefly recalling the way he looked happy, content, in the picture Sora shared from last night. “Why does it matter so badly to you whether I get back with Sora or not?"

"Because you matter badly to me!" you exclaim, digging your nails into the palms of your hands to stop them from flailing and finding their way to Jungkook’s arms to hold him still, not because he’s thinking about leaving, but because you don’t want to leave and you want to be reminded of it. ”Are we not best friends, Jungkook? A-are we— are we just people who see each other practically everyday?" you swallow the lump in your throat. “When I see you, I tell you about how my day went. I tell you about what I'm thinking. I... I've never withheld anything from you.”

There was never a time you’ve hidden anything from Jungkook. He’d been the witness of everything, both significant and pointless, in your life. He’s your best friend. He’s your Jungkook, whether or not in the way you want him to be.

The only thing is that Jungkook can’t say the same for you.

"That's you, then," he rasps thickly, exhaling with his teeth grinding together from how tight his jaw is clenching. "Do you see me snooping about who you're with? Do you see me hounding you about your boyfriends and-..."

"I don't tell you shit because I don't have any of that," you interrupt. “What I only have is you and you know that!”

You’re barely getting into the thick of it when the front door opens and your brother appears like a lifeline for Jungkook and the complete opposite of it for you, the stupid, hopeful smile on his face with the accompanying words of "I bought chicken!" making everything in your chest seem forgotten.

You're twenty-two when Jungkook tells you that not only does he still not see you as a woman he’s in love with, but he also doesn’t see you as his best friend. You’re twenty-two when you throw a tantrum in the middle of dinner, ripping off Jungkook’s hairtie from your wrist and tossing it in the trash, right after he cuts up your favorite boneless chicken for you in front of your brother.

Back then, you were nineteen when Jungkook gave you the first slice of his birthday cake, even if you spent a month saving up for the expensive, heavy-duty hard drive for his gift and even longer writing up the letter that was saved as the only document in the device, only for him to spend less than five minutes to scan your letter and move on with cutting the cake that’s not even in the flavor that you liked.

You were twenty when Jungkook replaced your flat tire for you because you didn’t want to anger Yoongi who only warmed up to lend you his new car after incessant begging for three months. You were twenty when you held up the umbrella so the rain wouldn’t soak him and get into his eyes while he saved your life, the words “thank you, love you” slipping out of you from habit, only for Jungkook to loosen his hold on the wrench for the briefest second before resuming.

You were twenty-one when he gave you his shirt to wear after coming home drunk to your shared apartment with Yoongi, because surely, your brother seeing you in his best friend’s clothing would be far less concerning than seeing you practically blackout wasted. You were only twenty-one when you wore his shirt backwards and inside-out (because Jungkook refused to even look in your direction at the time), clutching to him tightly while letting it slip: “It should be me, not Sora,” you muttered, while Jungkook only tucked you into the couch and answered Sora on the phone, telling her that she has to babysit you for the night.

The only thing you have is Jungkook and he insists that he doesn’t know it.

He insists that the both of you are neither lovers or friends, but instead, something less and far worse.

You’re twenty-two when Jungkook tells you that he doesn’t get why he and Sora and the state of their relationship matter so greatly to you, and you’re also only twenty-two when you first block Jungkook’s number for just a few hours so he wouldn’t bother you when he’s on his way home.

You’re twenty-two when you realize that Jungkook didn’t even leave you a message in the first place.

( ♡ )

Little by little, everything’s looking up for your family.

For starters, your mom’s no longer accidentally misusing emojis and abbreviations whenever she texts in the family group chat. You don’t have to be choking over air when she texts KYS after you tell her that you had a bad day (she thinks it means Keep Your Smile), and Yoongi doesn’t have to wince when she sends a tombstone emoji after telling her that he had a difficult time with one of his patients (she thinks it’s a gray cathedral window, and it’s her way of telling him to look outside and take a breather).

Your dad’s also looking into being more of a handyman in the house, now that they’re practically empty nesters most weeks of the month and Jungkook fixing your step that one (1) time sparked something in him.

Yoongi’s even happier doing his residency, enough for him to not collapse face-down on your coach and talk to you through muffled yelling about who should order what.

Everyone who’s most important to you have things looking up for them and oddly enough, contrary to your own belief, it gives you a little hope. You don’t feel bitter seeing life treat them a little lighter (even if it’s still less than what they deserve) even if you think you’re the only one who’s not moving forward.

You never harbored any deep resentment for Yoongi being the smarter child. He’s the one who’s even more volatile between the two of you whenever someone even just so attempt to point out how you were falling short to him by just being fine. You weren’t incredible by any means, and you didn’t want to start being excellent now when everyone’s already complacent with the way you are.

It’s either you’re seen or you’re not, there’s no in-between. You’re either Yoongi’s pretty sister whom nobody knows what degree she’s even taking, or you’re nobody at all.

You’re either a best friend or something far less significant. You’re either a mainstay cast member who got to be that in the first place by repeating the same overtired lines on the same skit that had been relevant once and recycled ever since, or you’re a fleeting extra who worked her whole life only to be recognized by something downright insignificant and even insulting.

You’re either Yoongi’s little sister that gets to hang around with Jungkook, or you’re someone who’s known Jungkook for a long time and just happen to love him ever since — whatever it is, you wouldn’t be recognized the way you want to be.

You’re yet to maximize the freedom of your youth and the sheer realization that you don’t plan on being as booked and busy as your brother, but by whatever cosmic power and due diligence of being the youngest child, you opt out of partying with your friends from university to instead get groceries with Yoongi and Jungkook.

You willingly choose to do the mundane, not because you already know you’re mundane, but because you realize that the sooner you practice yourself going through the motions of life beyond what’s serving as your unparalleled distraction, the sooner you’ll accept that you’re not destined for greatness.

You know you’re not destined for greatness, but you know that you’re destined for something that’s a little better (even if you don’t know what) when you don’t check your phone and are fully enthralled just walking past the new products in the toiletry aisle.

You know you’re not destined for excellence, but you know that you’re destined for something that’s slightly brighter than the life you’re already living when you don’t ask Yoongi impatiently if he must really smell every fruit that he puts into the cart.

You know you’re not destined for anything remotely important, but you believe with everything in you that it’s not entirely wrong for you to be hopeful that you might be, when you come out of the grocery store, about fifty reusable bags in hand, just to see white pouring.

"It's the first snow," you gasp in surprise, the awe in your gaze able to be spotted from a mile away, but Jungkook wouldn’t know the distance because he’s already far too close to you now, a giddy laugh automatically rolling from his lips.

"I know.”

"You know what they say about that, right?" you giggle, your expectant gaze turning to him without any malice; just pure, unbridled hope like the past years and the past winters haven’t hurt either of you.

"I do," he affirms, laughing as he readjusts the other fifty reusable bags filled with all the groceries Yoongi’s gotten on a whim as the both of you wait for him to go around with the car.

You’re not meant for greatness, but Jungkook equates to it, and you’ve never wanted to strive to be something you’re not so badly in your life.

"Jungkook?" you ask softly, head tilting in deep thought as you paid no attention to the snowflakes grazing your cheeks and onto the ground, gaze only focused wholly on him and nothing else.

"Yeah?" he hums. Jungkook’s lips part at the way you look at him; like he’s some higher power on an altar that has forsaken you over and over again by not making his existence known when you need him the most, yet you’re a devotee who’s never lost faith, not even once, because you confuse your pain for hope. "I know, sweetheart. I know what you mean."

You stay silent at that, even when Yoongi arrives conveniently and takes the load out of your arms and gets you your favorite coffee and gives you the liberty to pick the music for the drive back home.

You stay silent in thought of the first snow and the first and only Jungkook in your life, but only until your brother interrupts your thoughts.

Jungkook’s been the only one to occupy your existence on every first snow you’ve seen and committed to heart, but along with that, he’s also every other natural calamity.

He’s every other freak occurrence, and he’s every other reminder that seasons never stay no matter how slowly you flip the calendar and realize all the other pages you tore out in the hope that it’ll be the piece wherein you get to cross out and marks as his and yours day alone.

"Hey, you mind if Jungkook and his girlfriend crash on the couch outside?" Yoongi asks, lingering by your doorframe as he tries not to grimace at the sight of all your sweatshirts piled at what’s supposed to be the chair to your study desk. “Sora's car battery died and all the shops are closed for the night."

“Oh,” you whisper. You didn’t know that the last time you’ve ever uttered Sora’s name willingly, which was just a year ago, would only be one of the several firsts of the many times that she and Jungkook would find their way back to each other. “They're back together. Again.”

Yoongi sighs, not in disappointment (he never would), but in understanding. “It's okay if you don't want them to. I can just make up an excuse."

You can see the exhaustion wearing down on your brother from medical school and somehow juggling you and everything in between. You can see the eldest child who’s meant for greatness and has just finished doing his grocery shopping and doesn’t have any time to referee any complaints you may have for your impending visitors.

You only see him and the tiredness that you deem is warranted for someone as great as him, and not the exhaustion you’ve accumulated for being anything less.

"It's okay. This is your place anyway."

"You pay half the rent too."

"But he's your friend,” you reason weakly, sitting by the edge of your bed as you’re no longer interested in resting at its very comfort.

"You're the one who loves him,” Yoongi mutters lowly (but loud and clear for you to hear), making you roll your eyes at the reminder.

It’s the first time he’s ever spoken of it to you, but neither of you flinch at the fact. He’s brought it up randomly on the first snow of the year but you don’t have it in you to address the raging fluctuations of what comes with loving Jungkook unrequitedly.

"He and Sora can sleep over. Just don't give them my room," you concede, sighing as you stand up with a newfound will, albeit concerning.

"What? Where will you sleep then?" he furrows his brows, eyes following you around your room as you fish out a backpack and just start throwing things in haphazardly.

"I'll just sleep over at a friend's. I.. I don't want to be here when they are," you answer briefly, the dimness in your gaze enough to make Yoongi back off.

It’s enough to make your brother let you go scot-free, but never enough to make Jungkook understand.

He’s perplexed, knocking at your door for minutes on end until he decides to open it slowly, only to see that you weren't there to begin with. Jungkook’s not even perplexed, probably, because perplexed would mean that he’d harbor some degree of amusement and he isn’t feeling that in the slightest — all he’s feeling is just pure, overflowing panic.

While Sora is in the bathroom, Jungkook practically crashes his entire weight as he opens Yoongi's door, even if he knows that the poor guy must be either studying or sleeping already.

"Yoongi. Yoongi wake up. Yoongi," he hisses, chest caving in as he shakes your brother awake. “Y/N’s missing. She's not in her room. We need to find her."

"The fuck?" Yoongi could only sleepily whisper, groggily rubbing his eyes. "She's at a friend's."

"Why?" Jungkook almost spits in confusion, eyes narrowed at the possible thought process.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, collapsing back into his pillow after having his shoulders basically rearranged by Jungkook’s sheer panic alone. "Beats me."

"Do you know this friend?"

"Relax. She's twenty-three."

"Do you know this friend?" Jungkook repeats, each word becoming more enunciated than the last. He’s getting angry by the sound of it (if Yoongi could pick it up correctly), the apparent ‘carelessness’ of your own family member irking him.

"I don't know. She doesn't like being hogged so I didn't ask," he groans. “Taehyung, probably? He lives nearby."

"What?" Jungkook grits, his hand almost collaring Yoongi’s shirt if not for his fist closing in on itself to remind himself that Yoongi’s the only way for him to get answers. “Your sister is sleeping over at a guy's house? By herself? Are you insane? Why would you let her?!"

"They're friends...?" Yoongi offers slowly but surely, his tone taking on the most obvious route to Jungkook’s otherwise unbelieving state. "God, Jungkook, can you let me sleep? I really don't want to talk about my sister's sex life with you right now."

"So she's having sex with her friend?!" Jungkook practically whisper-yells to his ear, the tremble to his breathing making Yoongi shake for the briefest second.

"What? No! No— I don't know...? Fuck! Just shut up and turn off the lights again. I have an early day tomorrow."

You’re twenty-three when Jungkook sends you a lengthy text about how it’s beyond disappointing that you’re being irresponsible, followed by the multiple, desperate messages for you to text him your location so he could pick you up so you could be safe at home.

You’re twenty-three when Jungkook loses sleep over you, despite Sora sleeping beside him in the living room of your shared apartment with your brother, his red, swollen, and fatigued eyes only settled on your contact photo that he took of you in his phone.

You’re twenty-three when you admit to Jungkook in your own way, once again, that you love him, and you’re also twenty-three when he lets you down in the best way he knows how.

You’re twenty-three when you spend the night of the first snow at a friend’s house to escape the existence of Jungkook and Sora in your very own home, along with the ghost of the weight that comes with settling for never knowing him at all so you wouldn’t be hurt like this — only to come back the next morning, seeing him holding his girlfriend in his arms.

( ♡ )

You were twenty-four when Jungkook gifted you a gold bracelet.

Normally, Jungkook wouldn’t even think twice about jewelry because for as long as he wore it, all he needed to make sure was that it didn’t turn his skin green and smell weird after being splashed under hard water (which is practically all of the running water in his place) for two seconds.

Granted that it was your graduation and just like every other overeager loved one, Jungkook was assumed (by your parents and Yoongi and every friend you’ve had in university that has an inkling about your dynamic), wrongly, to just buy a name-brand item and call it a day after writing a sincere letter for you.

You know he’s not well-off. You know that he rarely ever splurges on himself and so you didn’t expect for him to go out of his way to get you something. Unlike you, Jungkook isn’t big on giving gifts, and although that’s never been a problem for you before, it always has been to him.

He doesn’t exactly feel patronized when Yoongi gives him his “neglected things” that just turn out to be the brand-new, expensive items Jungkook only ever looked up fondly and as a pipe dream (he swears he’s seen this scene before in Bride Wars); it’s more of a haunting, raring feeling in him to get even and give something that’s more than his service.

Jungkook may tend to your mom’s garden with his green thumb and teach your dad how to use power tools without crying and even cook meals for Yoongi when he’s too tired to even lift his head up, but he didn’t just want to only be of service to you. There’s no amount of him driving you around and parallel parking in the most difficult spots, or even just being the constant figure in your living room that hums (and makes you feel less insane and alone) as you talk to yourself about your exam reviewers for a course that you’re barely passing could ever be enough.

Jungkook wanted to get you something real. Something tangible that you couldn’t only think back on like a distant, foggy memory every three years when a random thought crosses your mind about his good nature.

You were twenty-four when Jungkook gifted you a solid gold (none of that hollowed-out shit; read: ditching the aforementioned meant another solid two weeks of extreme budgeting) bracelet and a heartfelt letter on your graduation.

You were twenty-four when he dressed up in his best polo and gave you his gift with nothing but nervousness for you to actually love it, and you were only twenty-four when you hugged him the tightest that you’ve ever did, kissing his cheek in pure excitement.

You were only twenty-four too, when you realize that Jungkook’s a friend who perhaps really just wanted to give you something memorable and expensive on your special day and nothing more; because if he was more and he wanted to be more, then he would’ve stuck around for the afterparty.

If he wanted to be more and not any less than what you already were, then he wouldn’t have excused himself when you bounded towards him with the bracelet on your wrist and too much of your courage waiting at the back of your throat.

If Jungkook wanted to be more, then he would’ve let his lips graze your cheek for a millisecond longer right after you look up at him: “Thank you, love you.”

If he wanted to be more with you by loving you back, then Jungkook would’ve let his hand linger on your back for just another second more with more firmness instead of gentleness, because you’ve had enough of the latter; he wouldn’t have left, and he wouldn’t have reminded you of your place either: “Don’t make bad decisions tonight.”

You were twenty-four when you started to be resigned with Jungkook, yet you don’t know at what age would you grow to be sick of him.

You can’t tell when you’re going to move past his rejections due to the maturity you’ve always thought you harbored, enough to be the driving force to just settle for however you can keep Jungkook in your life and not ruin the friendship.

You can’t tell when you’re supposed to stop growing and stop being level-headed about your yearly confessions that in the long run, have never hurt Jungkook.

You don’t know if you’re ever going to yearn to be volatile and unforgiving; you don’t know when the weight of Jungkook telling you over and over again that he doesn’t see you that way will finally settle in your bones, permanently, instead of coming and going like a holiday that you grew to both anticipate and dread.

Jungkook’s not a shifty, aloof distant relative that you only get to see once or twice in a decade when an old relative from your extended family dies.

He’s not an overly proud alumnus you see in campus grounds every two weeks chatting up professors who are tired of seeing him.

He’s not anything specific in your life besides definitively being your brother’s best friend and your own, but only from a distance. You and Jungkook were close enough to hang out without Yoongi present, but the availability of the other was something you weren’t even eagerly seeking anymore just like the old times.

It’s you who’s adding to the space that Jungkook established himself, and you thought for the longest time that you’re fine with it; that for as long as you don’t get too emotional (read: resentful) seeing the gold bracelet on your wrist, then that would mean you and him are at the perfect distance away from each other until your inevitable, yearly confession happens.

Jungkook, too, thought that he’d been okay with the added space (or whatever it meant) despite seeing you almost every two days at this point, because he thought that you being less attached would make it balanced.

You know to yourself utterly and completely that knowing Jungkook more doesn’t lead to loving him less; it’s only what you hope to happen otherwise.

It’s what he also pleads to himself when he sees you tonight, sitting at the chairs by the parking lot of the hospital.

“Y/N?” he immediately asks out loud, barely shifting the gear to park when he walks (read: runs) to you with a gasp, eyes wide and concerned. “What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

“What are you doing here?” you return the question, unable to process why out of all the times, it just had to be now when you see Jungkook unplanned; it couldn’t have been at the subway yesterday or even at the convenience store this morning.

Out of all the times that he’d see you accidentally (heaven knows the two of you see each other far too much), it just had to be when you were clutching your abdomen, writhing and sweating in pain.

“I borrowed Yoongi’s car so I took it to the carwash and-…” Jungkook trails off for a preliminary answer, shaking his head to physically reboot himself. “Sorry, I really can’t care about Yoongi’s car right now. What the hell are you doing here?” he repeats, running his palm over your sweaty forehead that’s simultaneously warm and freezing, the lack of any ease in your face making him panic.

“It’s n— fuck, that hurts,” you seethe, growing breathless as your eyelids fall heavy.

“Y/N, hey, hey. What’s happening? Where does it hurt?” Jungkook asks firmly this time, worry etching on to his face as his hands unconsciously tremble as he tries to survey you the best he could yet he can’t even think straight with your whole body contorted in pain.

You gasp at a particularly sharp burning sensation, pointing to the right of your abdomen with your index finger barely even outstretched in pain.

Jungkook screws his eyes shut, throwing his head back as he paces in tiny circles, holding your clammy hand as he tries to not faint on the spot. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Holy fuck I don’t know what that’s called b-but you’re in pain and— a-and how did you even get here? Did you drive?”

The nod you give him makes him even more lightheaded.

“Why the fuck would you drive here? Are you insane? Y-you should’ve called me!”

“Kook, now’s not the-…” you wince, the pained gasp that leaves your eyes rolling to the back of your head being the last straw for Jungkook before carrying you bridal style into the emergency room, that realistically was just a few steps away from you, but more-on felt like a thousand yards.

The pain felt like torture for you, and seeing your pain felt like a living, breathing, writhing version of hell for Jungkook as he tried to get everything under control.

He trembled while filling out your information and waiting outside of the surgery ward. He shook when he called Yoongi to go downstairs and informed him about what happened.

Jungkook was nothing short of miserable waiting for you to be okay, but nobody told him that it wouldn’t get any better once he finally sees you awake.

He doesn’t believe you even when you’re up and are raring to go home. He doesn’t crack a smile when you tell him that you’re okay and he was just being dramatic.

He doesn’t let up the slightest bit when you try and be back to how you normally are with him, when just hours ago, Jungkook prayed to a god he only partially believed in and even offered himself to just for the betterment of your condition.

You swear up and down that you’re okay, but it’s not enough for him.

“Are you that upset seeing me in a hospital bed?” you mutter, the roll of your eyes only making you dizzy for a split second instead of a full minute this time.

“Think about it, genius,” Jungkook grumbles, crossing his arms on his chest but not before pushing your vegetables closer to you on your plate, gathering the leftovers of your pudding from the edge of your cup with a spoon.

“I’m not going to apologize,” you mutter, looking away from him and your tray and instead on a poorly-dubbed children’s show on the TV, just to shield yourself from the confrontation that you weren’t looking for.

The thing about Jungkook is that he didn’t pick a time or a place to get into anything with you, whether good or bad.

The thing is, Jungkook’s goodness and concern for you have never not went hand-in-hand with his overbearingness that friends shouldn’t have in the first place.

“Good. You shouldn’t,” he stubbornly punctuates.

“Then why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself,” he groans, sneaking a glance at his watch which reminds him that he had paged a nurse ten minutes ago and that he needs to follow up. “What did I do to make you think that you can’t call me when there’s an emergency? Do you know how dangerous it was for you to drive at that state?”

Jungkook’s voice wavers at the question, not expecting you to answer with the way your jaw’s clenched and you’re still refusing to look at him.

“I-I get it. I’m trying to get it. Your parents aren’t in the city and you didn’t want them to fly out this late, I get it. Yoongi’s busy being a resident a-and you didn’t want to worry him, I get it a little bit,” Jungkook sniffles. “But you not calling me when you’re in pain? When you need someone to drive you to the ER? When you just need someone to be there with you, no questions asked?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “I don’t get it, Y/N. I don’t get it at all.”

“You really don’t get it,” you concede, gaze flitting over to him. Jungkook’s sat on an uncomfortable chair with his legs spread, still dressed in last night’s clothes and torment, the furrow in his brows inerasable. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Jungkook tolerates your mouth. He tolerates a lot of your words and sentiments and occasional callousness when you were emotional despite being mature, but this just cuts it.

He doesn’t tolerate you now.

“How will you ever be a burden? You were having an emergency and the first thing in your mind is that you don’t want to inconvenience me?” he spits. “It’s not like it’s traffic, o-or you eating my takeouts, Y/N. It’s you being in danger, don’t you get that? That’s not an inconvenience!” he laughs without any amusement. “If you still think it is no matter what I say, then you should’ve inconvenienced me. You should’ve bothered me. You should’ve known that I would’ve went out of my way just for you to consider inconveniencing me.”

“Well I don’t want to, okay? I don’t want to bother you, Jungkook!”

“What the hell do I have going on in my life that’s enough for me to not come to you when you need me?”

“You have everything going on!” you exclaim, throwing your head back on your pillow, inadvertently making yourself wince and make Jungkook apologetic. “Y-you have a job, you have Sora, you have-…”

“Wrong,” he tuts, sighing heavily as he adjusts your head on the pillow, grabbing one of his own from his chair to secure you from the sides. “I can have nothing or everything and I’ll still come to you.”

You purse your lips, ignoring the way his touch is more firm than it is gentle.

“You don’t have to come to me if you’re already with me,” you confess in your own words, the sigh that leaves you taking everything not to round up to a pitiful, watery smile that sums up your anticipated rejection.

“Sweetheart,” Jungkook answers simply, in his own way.

You’re twenty-five when you feel yourself surrender little by little.

"Okay," you roll your eyes, the snort that erupts from you making his brows raise in curiosity.

"Okay?" he echoes. "You're okay with it?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know— I-... I mean I know this isn't the first time you confessed and this isn't my first time either turning you down, but-..." Jungkook trails uneasily, shaking his head softly as he tries to regain his bearings. ”…I don't know either why I asked if you're okay."

“My appendix did get removed a few hours ago, so that’s why,” you smile playfully, going back to your meal like nothing had happened.

Like Jungkook hadn’t lost his mind hours ago, and like you hadn’t confessed just minutes ago while you were laying in your hospital bed.

You’re twenty-five when you let yourself feel the hurt.

( ♡ )

It only occurs to you when you’re twenty-six, that Jungkook’s seen all your hardships, whereas the only suffering that you had to see him endure was the price of having Sora as his first love.

Every other difficulty and every other misstep Jungkook’s had in his life are only either retold to you or assumed by your conscience. Besides his turbulent on and off relationship with the only girlfriend he’s ever had, everything that wasn’t the good and the easy about him wasn’t known to you.

It’s as if despite having the privilege to grow alongside you, Jungkook deliberately went out of his way to ensure that you never see him vulnerable if it wasn’t for love. You realize at your age belatedly that you’ve lived this long and have never seen him feel so deeply for anything that wasn’t the matters of his heart.

You only know the big chunks and the bits and pieces of your closest friend’s childhood, but never to the extent that your brother knew him. You’ve questioned the lacking details about him over and over again, but in hindsight, you realize that you didn’t ask enough.

You never asked for any clarification as stubbornly as they expected you to, not because you were coincidentally proving Jungkook right that you were better off not knowing the seemingly unimportant details of his life, but because you were already content with what he gave you.

You took what Jungkook could only give you, but he can’t say the same now.

You’re twenty-six when you hear from Yoongi that Jungkook and Sora have broken up, for good this time, because she cheated on him and it had become his last straw.

You’re twenty-six when Jungkook learns that he only knows the hardships of your life and barely ever its triumphs (whatever the hell that meant in your book and not his), because when he sees you making out with Taehyung in your old childhood bedroom while your brother’s in the middle of throwing a party downstairs, he realizes that everything seemingly favorable in your life was only retold to him.

He should be relieved (right?) to see you at home instead of finding out through Yoongi that you were sleeping over at a friend’s he didn’t know, but none of the solace ever comes to his system. It doesn’t help that the guy who scrambles off you if the same guy that you had ran to all those years ago (Jungkook only knows after keeping tabs on Taehyung for literal years, it seems like).

It doesn’t help that you’re more angry at him than you are embarrassed of the entire situation.

"Do your parents know?"

"Know what?" you scrunch your nose, entirely lost to what Jungkook’s trying to get at.

"What you're doing," he details with narrowed eyes. “Who you're doing."

"What the fuck?" you spit with vitriol, in genuine disbelief whereas Jungkook remains stoic from where he stood. ”I’m twenty-six. I have my own place now. What are you talking about?"

Jungkook shakes his head at the reminder that you’ve moved out weeks ago from your shared apartment with Yoongi and he only got to know when he crashed at your (former) place after a particularly rough day, only to be genuinely confused at the sight of Just Yoongi At The Door, your own brother perplexed that Jungkook didn’t even know you moved out by then.

“I’m talking about how you're acting out like a teenager, getting it on with-..."

"Acting out?" you parrot.

"Yeah, that's what I said,” he grits, the sarcastic laugh that leaves his lips making your ears ring.

"What would I be acting out against? I'm not some teenager rebelling against curfew or-..."

"I thought you liked me, Y/N,” Jungkook enunciates word for word, making you stop dead in your tracks.

You weren’t planning on confessing tonight.

You weren’t even thinking of digging up your unresolved feelings for Jungkook because you didn’t want to be the bigger person about it; for once, you wanted to be the more vulnerable and volatile friend between the two of you.

"What kind of person keeps confessing to her brother's best friend every single year, yet still make out with another best friend of her brother's as if nothing she said was true?"

The ache that your chest molds around is far too big of a statue, concrete and rooted in its desire to let the pain seep into you.

"But you don't like me, Jungkook. That's the thing.”

"And you think that changes everything?" he asks, voice cracking at the edges. “What if— w-what if I lied awhile ago, huh? What if I-... what if I lied about not liking you, yet you're still out here letting Taehyung put hickeys on you? What then?"

You screw your eyes shut in utter disbelief of the possibilities that Jungkook springs onto you out of nowhere, tears pricking painfully.

“But did you lie?"

"That's not what I'm-..."

"Did you or did you not lie, Jungkook? That's what I'm asking first," you interrupt, fists balled in utter despair because if you don’t do something, anything to ground you, then you’d faint right in front of him and nurse the hurt like it’s the only thing keeping you alive.

"I didn't," Jungkook whispers, eyes steeling as he regains his composure. "B-but that still doesn’t-…”

"No. It changes everything," you swallow the lump in your throat. “I can have this stupid, teenage crush on you and still be hurt. I can be stupid by ignoring all your past rejections and still get tired," you waver. “I can look stupid liking you from afar, only for you to reject me year after year, and still do whatever that I want to do with Taehyung.”

"If I lied and told you that I liked you back, and we become this... w-we become this fantasy of yours that you never let go of," Jungkook argues, exhaling heavily. "What then, Y/N? If you could do this now, what else are you capable of doing if we end up together?" he gnaws on his bottom lip. ”What can you tell me that would make me trust that I can be your boyfriend without you doing whatever the hell you want?"

"You're asking me that?" you whisper in disbelief, vision spinning on the weight that Jungkook demands from you. “You're asking me to convince you that I won't cheat on you, even if you told me again and again that you'd never want to be with me?"

“Yoongi told you, didn’t he?” Jungkook replies, meeting your eyes but not where you stood, the stubbornness in his gaze making you bow your head in surrender.

"My god, Jungkook. You're fucking insane.”

He buckles by the knees at that, pointing to himself weakly as his eyes widen. "I am? I'm the one who's-...?" he pauses, jaw clenching angrily. ”I’m the one who's confused, Y/N. I'm the one who can't tell how I'd stand in your life if I give in-..."

Give in, like it's pity.

Give in, like it's charity for the needy and returning your feelings would be the one final thing that cements Jungkook’s goodness.

Give in, like you didn’t spend the better part of your life pining after him without any promise because you weren’t afraid to be seen trying; you weren’t afraid to be in love with him.

"Then I won't confuse you anymore! I'll make it easy for the both of us," you burst, pushing past him in your fit of anger. “You don't have to think about being cheated on. You don't— y-you don't have to think about the image of me making out with Taehyung behind your back while you're.. y-you're fucking conjuring this life with me in the future when you don't even want to be with me now."

Give in, like you were never the one for him in the first place.

"I'll stop,” you whisper.

"I didn't tell you to,” Jungkook grits, shaking his head in disbelief as his eyes track your direction towards the door.

"I don't need you to."

( ♡ )

You dream of getting over Jungkook on a random day.

The concept of it comes to you randomly after countless nights of losing sleep over your big fight with Jungkook that had instilled a rift in your friendship for months. You haven’t gotten over him (specifically on a random day that you so badly craved to prove that unlearning the ways of being attentive to him can happen in an as insignificant of a day as Wednesday), but you atleast attained your silent plea of being the one who’s more vulnerable.

Of being the one who’s pined after, not necessarily because Jungkook was completely in the wrong and there’s no basis for his fears, but because you wanted to know what it felt like being yearned for.

You didn’t have to be brave for the two of you because you were no longer grasping at straws to keep Jungkook whenever and however you can.

The only reason you dream of getting over Jungkook on a random day was because you want the feeling of the love you have for him to leave you when you're folding your clothes and you can ignore the fact that his shirts keep washing up into your basket despite not having stepped foot in your new place.

You want to get over him on a random day when you feel unsure of it the most, because only then would you prove to yourself that something as real and as tangible as your yearning is just as fundamental as learning to live without him in your life.

You want to get over Jungkook on a random day, even when you don’t want to, because the only way out for you is through.

You want to get over him but you can’t; you want to get over him even when he confesses his love for you at a time that you’ve stepped out of the middle, which was the only place you’ve been trying to coax him into to remind you that your yearning’s alive.

You’re twenty-seven when Jungkook first confesses to you.

“I’m in love with you and you don’t have to do anything about it,” he whispers, clutching a bouquet of your favorite flowers by your front door, left hand still trembling as he clutches the handwritten note of your address given by your brother who had promised to cut him off forever if he didn’t make things right with you. Jungkook isn’t doing this to get even with you, however — he’s doing this out of sheer longing. “And you don’t have to be in love with me for me to do everything about it.”

.

.

.

You’re twenty-seven, and you still know that Yoongi’s meant for greatness.

You know that he’s meant for greatness when he’s only a few years older than you and yet he’s already in the finishing steps of opening his own clinic, the technicalities of it amusing you because at his age, Yoongi’s acclaimed for his skill and his drive.

At your age, the hallmarks that you live with are that you’re going to join the family business (read: inserting yourself in Yoongi’s clinic) and make use of yourself to make up for the fact that you’re not particularly excellent at anything, and that finally, this is the second to the last year you’re going to be allowing yourself to confess your love to Jungkook.

Just because you allowed yourself to all those years ago, however, didn’t mean you were actually going to do it any longer.

You were freshly twenty-six when you and Jungkook had the fight that inexplicably changed your lives forever, more than growing up and witnessing each other change had ever did — you’re three months away from turning twenty-eight, and Jungkook’s never been more riddled with fear of loving you, but he does it anyway.

He’s more scared of losing you than he is with loving you, yet he knows he can’t forsake either in his pursuit.

Jungkook knows that he’s not meant for greatness, but you equate it, and he’s never wanted to strive to be something he’s not so badly in his life. He runs to you at full speed and he doesn’t care about the impact nor about the possibility that it wouldn’t bring him anywhere.

“You're not Sora," he utters when he sees you zoning out, gaze fixated on the first snow that falls right outside of the window of the clinic that’s still yet to be completed, hallowed out enough for his voice and his sentiment to echo throughout the walls. “And I don't want Sora."

"Nobody wakes up and just realizes that they don't love someone anymore, Jungkook," you murmur, following the way the bits of white patter against the ground helplessly because they have no choice but to fall.

Jungkook’s been nothing short of pathetic with his longing the entire year.

Even between him working as your brother’s contractor and even helping out the labor yet not ever running late from driving you to and from your place with homemade meals in hand, to him pulling his weight by being of service to you, by being anything that you asked and didn’t ask him to be — Jungkook, admittedly, can’t fill in the gaps of what longing for him in the past had instilled in you: doubt.

"I did,” Jungkook answers. “It happens."

"You spent the better part of your youth being in love with her," you remind him with a gentle roll of your eyes, ignoring the way he comes closer to give you his hard hat that you’ve always insisted on ditching out of stubbornness. “That doesn't just happen out of nowhere."

It’s daunting that you can talk about yours and Jungkook’s past out in the open.

It’s new.

"It happened because it wasn't out of nowhere," he clarifies. “I’ve been on and off with her in the first place because I— we, couldn't let go of the comfortable option which was each other."

“Just stop talking,” you murmur weakly, the lilt of your voice similar to the random days that creep up to you and remind you of the shade of the past, of Sora, that looms over you out of nowhere. "I... I-I must've had this conversation with you over and over again, Jungkook," you frown. "You're going to get back with each other like always."

"We're not," he corrects you, standing in front of you so closely that you could feel his warmth cling to your skin. “Sora and I are completely through."

"Whatever you say," you mutter, throwing your hands weakly, ready to call it a night when Jungkook grabs ahold of you firmly, undoubtedly, his eyes swimming in concern.

"Do you want time to prove it?" he tilts his head. "We could wait around for a lifetime and you'll believe me by then."

"I think I've done enough waiting,” you chuckle, drawing a laugh out of him.

You’re turning twenty-eight in three months, and Jungkook’s confessed his love for you more times than you’ve ever did for him in your lifetime; he’ll still love you under the weight of your shoe.

"You're meant for happiness, Y/N. You don't have to wait,” Jungkook murmurs. “And I need to work on being meant for you, so I have to wait."

[kaurwreck]

I think you're right that it's significant, and I think Mori is clever to recognize that Akutagawa is a rook.

Like a rook, Akutagawa is powerful, but generally contained and often undercut by his predictability. However, because he's keenly aware of his own constraints, and because others often aren't (especially regarding variables they've internalized as known), he's able to play into and against his own predictability to paradoxically surprise them.

He moves within the confines of his rigidity to shape outcomes, sometimes more effectively than his more dynamic opponents and peers. Rooks do that too, if you let them.

Me, knowing nothing about chess, probably overthinking the significance of referencing akutagawa in this scene, but is going to look it up later anyways

[kngrose]

Could you do yandere head cannons for Caitlyn from arcane?

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

includes caitlyn jayce victor vander

WARNINGS: implied stalking, implied drugging, infantilization, coercion, general unhealthy behaviors

from roselí. ᡣ𐭩 : decided to pair these guys up because there was sooooo many requests for them! ^^

caitlyn protective type

She wasn’t always this way. It was an accident that caused something in her to change.  The bullet had just barely grazed her, a close call, but one that made her realize just how fragile everything could be. It wasn't the pain that lingered in her body, but the sense of terror that gripped her heart when she thought she might never see you again. What if it were you instead– what if the bullet didn’t just graze you? What if it went through you instead?

She was already drawn to you, but after that brush with death, Caitlyn’s feelings became something she couldn’t ignore anymore. The idea of losing you—someone who had become her rock—became a constant, gnawing presence in her mind. She had survived countless dangers before, but the thought of you slipping away was far worse.

It wasn’t long before Caitlyn started showing up more often. She would check in on you regularly, whether you were in the office or just at home, her presence now a familiar yet unspoken thing. "I just wanted to make sure you're alright," she’d say, though you couldn’t recall ever needing to be checked on. At first, it seemed like genuine concern, but soon, you began to notice how her eyes would linger just a little too long, and how her posture seemed tense when you weren’t near. 

Her love, while seemingly genuine, would feel smothering at times, as if she can’t let you out of her sight for too long. She might start showing up unexpectedly, always with an excuse, but slowly turning up at your most inconvenient times. Caitlyn might resort to more extreme measures. She might manipulate situations to make you think you're in danger or that you can only trust her. She’d plant lies, create paranoia, and twist things so you decide to seclude yourself more. 

Caitlyn can’t just simply be a part of your life—she’d want to control it. She would subtly start dictating where you go and, who you interact with.  You’d feel like you have no room to breathe without her approval. 

 The near-death experience had cracked something inside of her. Caitlyn needed reassurance—not just that you were safe, but that you weren’t going anywhere. She began to ask, almost obsessively, if you were sure you were happy with her, if she was doing enough for you, if you felt as though you were being properly protected. Her doubts about her own ability to protect you made her needier, more insistent on showing that she could keep you safe from the chaos that threatened your world.

“You’re not going to leave me, are you?” You’d awoken in the middle of the night to her staring down at you in the dark bedroom. It was weird— had she been watching you sleep? Her voice was soft but heavy with something unspoken. The question hung in the air, and you could see the hint of panic in her eyes. She had always been so composed, so controlled, but this new Caitlyn—this Caitlyn who had almost lost you—was breaking down those walls.

 Her jealousy would flare when she saw you interacting with others, especially anyone who showed a hint of interest in you. Caitlyn couldn’t help it. Her need to keep you safe extended to wanting to keep others away, ensuring that no one else would get too close to you. Her envy would manifest in small ways—like an extra long hug when you returned to her side, a slightly tighter grip on your hand in public. When someone else laughed with you, Caitlyn would withdraw slightly, her smile turning into something forced. “Don’t get too close to them,” she’d murmur later when you were alone, her tone carrying a mix of fear and a protective sharpness. It was as though her love for you had warped into something far darker.

She’d say things like, “You don’t need to do anything without me. I’m here to help you,” and you’d find it difficult to refuse, because behind her words was a certain pleading—an unspoken desperation for you not to pull away from her.

Her emotional dependence on you grew stronger with each passing day. Caitlyn would assure you that she wasn’t trying to control you, but her actions spoke otherwise. She couldn’t stand the idea of you slipping away from her, of you finding comfort in anyone else. You were hers to protect, and no one would ever take you from her.

On the flip side, Caitlyn's loyalty would be unwavering. If you ever found yourself in danger or in need of help, she’d stop at nothing to make sure you were okay, even if it meant making dangerous choices or going against her moral compass. In her mind, you're hers, and she'll do anything to keep you safe, even if it’s at the expense of others.

 The first time she almost lost you, Caitlyn had been ready to tear the world apart to ensure it wouldn’t happen again. Now, her obsession had grown to the point where it wasn’t about safety anymore—it was about ownership. You had become her entire world, the one thing that mattered above all else.

The question was no longer how could she keep you safe. It became how could she keep you with her? She couldn’t bear the thought of you slipping through her fingers.

“Promise me you won’t leave me,” she whispered one night, her hand trembling slightly as she held you. Her eyes searched your face, looking for something that would assure her, reassure her, make her believe that you wouldn’t leave her alone in a world that felt far too dangerous without you.

You could see the vulnerability in her gaze, the fear, and the obsession lurking just beneath the surface. Caitlyn had changed. Her love for you had become a tether, a need, a consuming thing that had overtaken every part of her. And now, she needed to make sure you would never walk away.

It wasn’t just about love anymore. It was about control. It was about keeping you close, locked in her world, never letting go.

jayce fixating type

After the breakup, Jayce’s world shattered in a way he had never anticipated. For so long, he had been consumed by his work, his passion for Hextech and its potential to change the world, that he hadn’t noticed the growing distance between him and the one person who had once been his emotional anchor. His heart had been so tied to his inventions, to the pursuit of progress, that he never imagined he could lose the one thing that mattered to him more than anything—her.

When you broke up with him, it felt like the ground beneath his feet had crumbled away. The calm, steady hand that had always guided him through his struggles was suddenly gone. He tried to reason with you at first, to explain that Hextech was not just a project, but a vision—a chance to make the world a better place. But as your eyes turned away from him, he began to realize that it wasn’t just about the work. It was about him. And his focus, his obsession with Hextech, had taken him so far away from you that he had lost sight of what truly mattered.

That realization consumed him. In his mind, he couldn’t accept it—couldn’t accept the idea that it was his own blindness to your needs that had driven you away. He had never truly seen it before, but now that it was gone, he saw it everywhere: your absence, the way his lab felt colder, how every success in his work now felt hollow without you by his side. The weight of your rejection clung to him like a shadow.

And so began his obsession.

Jayce’s need to fix things started as an impulse—a desperate attempt to prove he could balance both the future of Hextech and the future with you. But as days turned to weeks and you remained distant, his obsession grew darker. He started showing up at your door, uninvited, his gaze intense, almost pleading. He would try to convince you that things could be different—that he could change, that he could be there for you. But in truth, it wasn’t about change. It wasn’t about improving himself. It was about keeping you close, where he could protect you, where he could ensure that you never left again.

Jayce had always been a man of intellect, but now, logic and reason had abandoned him. He couldn’t fathom the idea of you being free from him, of you moving on. The thought made him sick, twisting in his gut. He began to manipulate your conversations, pushing boundaries, trying to create situations where you would need him, where you would have no choice but to return. He would remind you of all the moments you had shared, the promises he had made to you, all the things that had once made you believe in him. But none of this was genuine anymore—none of it was the person he used to be. He was no longer trying to rebuild a relationship. Now, he was trying to reclaim you, no matter the cost.

The obsession deepened. He began showing up at places he knew you'd be, lingering in the background, watching you as you went about your life without him. If he couldn’t keep you at his side through words, he would make sure you couldn’t escape through actions. In the quiet moments, Jayce’s mind would race, imagining the worst—what if you found someone else? What if you grew stronger without him? What if, one day, you were truly gone?

His need to keep you close became all-consuming. Jayce started to twist the very things he loved about you into weapons for his obsession. He’d tell himself he was doing this for you, for the future of both of you. He’d tell himself that he wasn’t controlling, that he was just keeping you safe from the world outside. But deep down, he knew the truth. He was terrified. Terrified of losing you. Terrified that his obsession had driven you to a place where the only thing left was distance, and that distance was now a gulf he couldn’t cross.

Jayce had always been a man of vision, but now that vision had warped. He couldn’t see a future without you, and he couldn’t accept the possibility that you had chosen a life without him. His desire to protect, to build a better world, had been replaced by a singular focus—keeping you from slipping away. And with every attempt, every plea, he could feel his grip on you tightening. But what he didn’t realize was that the more he pulled you in, the more he suffocated what little remained of the love you once shared.

In his obsession, Jayce had lost sight of the one thing that could have healed them both: the space to breathe, to be free, to make choices. Instead, he was creating a prison of his own design, and with every day that passed, he was sealing both of your fates in it.

victor savior type

Victor had always been driven by the idea of progress. From the moment he first set foot in Piltover, he had envisioned a future where technology and science could heal the broken, the sick, and the flawed. His dreams were grand—of perfecting the human body, of eradicating weakness and suffering. But after his experiences in the Arcane, that ideal evolved. It wasn’t just about saving others anymore. It became about creating something that could be truly perfect—and, somewhere along the way, you became the focus of that vision.

At first, Victor admired you from afar, intrigued by your brilliance and passion. You were like him—a seeker of knowledge, a person striving for something more. But it wasn’t long before he began to notice the small things about you, things that most people wouldn’t see. The subtle hesitation when you looked at your reflection, the way you seemed to fight against something within yourself that you couldn’t escape. It was there in your eyes, in your posture—this quiet dissatisfaction with who you were. Victor saw it as weakness. A flaw. Something that could be fixed.

In the beginning, it was just a passing thought. A small seed planted in the back of his mind: “What if I could help them?” But as the days passed, that seed grew. Every interaction you had with Victor became tinged with this idea, this possibility that he could take you, just as he had taken his own body and reshaped it, and bring you to a higher form of existence—his vision of perfection.

He became obsessed, not with curing illness or repairing his own mechanical body, but with fixing you. Every glance, every word you spoke, was studied carefully. He began to analyze you, to understand what made you unhappy, what flaws you perceived in yourself. He noticed how you would sigh when looking at your reflection or how you’d become withdrawn after difficult interactions.

And, somewhere deep inside, Victor felt a rush of excitement. I could fix this, he thought. I could make them perfect.

Victor began to put his plans into motion. At first, it was subtle—small changes. He'd offer you assistance, claiming it was for your benefit, your health. Perhaps it was a supplement to help with fatigue, a mechanical adjustment here and there, things that would seem innocuous. But all the while, he was slipping things into your life, gently guiding you toward the idea that something needed to change—something big. He began talking more about his own work, his experiments with biomechanical evolution, how he had perfected his own body through the use of Hextech technology, how he had become better. He spoke of it with such enthusiasm, such conviction, that you couldn’t help but listen.

And you began to listen more closely, to wonder if he was right. Could you truly evolve into something better? Could you become free of the insecurities that haunted you? Victor’s words were so convincing, so filled with promise, that the idea began to take root. But even as you were drawn deeper into his world, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was off. His gaze lingered too long, his smile a little too knowing, as if he saw something in you that you didn’t see yourself.

Victor was careful, patient. He needed you to want it, to believe in the perfection he promised, because that was the only way his plans could truly succeed. He began to subtly manipulate your environment, ensuring that you’d be isolated from others, making it more difficult to question his intentions. You would be so wrapped up in his ideas of progress, his vision of perfection, that you wouldn’t even think to resist.

His words became more frequent, more insistent. He’d talk about the benefits of his work, of how it could be applied to you, how much better you could be with his guidance. You’d hear him speak of the “improvements” he could make—subtle at first, but gradually escalating. The more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself considering the idea, wondering if it could really work.

But in Victor’s mind, this wasn’t just about improving you. It was about making you into something that could never reject him again. Something perfect. You’d be his greatest creation—your flaws erased, your body transformed, your mind reshaped. In his mind, he was offering you salvation, even as he slowly ensnared you in his vision. You wouldn’t have a choice in the matter; the idea of perfection, of becoming whole, would consume you entirely. And when the time came, he would reveal his true intentions.

There would be no turning back.

Victor’s obsession grew with every passing day. He watched you carefully, analyzing how you reacted to his suggestions. Every word he spoke was another piece of the puzzle, another step toward his goal. He was a patient man, and he would wait until the perfect moment arrived, when you were so entangled in his vision that you would beg him to make you perfect.

By then, it would be too late to stop him. His arcane technology would transform you, reshape you, into something that could never reject him again. And once you were his creation, the perfect version of yourself, you would belong to him—body, mind, and soul.

vander infantilizing type

Vander was always a protector. He’d spent his life making sure the people of Zaun, especially those close to him, stayed safe from the dangers that loomed over the Undercity. To him, protection was everything—his family, his crew, and you, the person he cherished most in his heart. But over time, something shifted in his mind, a shift so gradual that neither of you noticed it at first.

It started with small acts of kindness. When you were out, Vander would show up unexpectedly, insisting on walking you home, even if it was just down the block. “Zaun can be unpredictable,” he’d say with a smile. “I just want to make sure you’re safe.” It seemed harmless at first, but there was a subtle urgency in his words, a note of unspoken control hidden beneath his seemingly loving gestures. He never directly told you what to do, but you began to feel his presence more and more, often when you least expected it.

 At first, it was innocent. He would casually ask about your day, making sure you were staying out of trouble, always with a smile and a reassuring hand on your shoulder. But then the questions became more frequent. “Where were you?” “Who were you with?” “Did you get home okay?” He never seemed satisfied with a simple “I’m fine,” needing the specifics of every encounter, every moment you spent away from him.

Vander never outright said he didn’t trust you, but the way he’d check in felt more like a constant inspection, as though he had to make sure you were always on the right path. He would often show up at places you didn’t expect him to be, seemingly out of nowhere, with that protective smile of his. It wasn’t out of malice, but of love, or so he told himself. The idea that you might stray from his care, even accidentally, made him uneasy.

Vander had always treated you like an equal, someone who could handle themselves in this chaotic world. But slowly, as his protective instinct overpowered his rational thinking, he began to take over more of your responsibilities. At first, it was small things—offering to take care of errands or tasks you could easily do yourself. “You don’t need to worry about that,” he’d say, brushing it off as no trouble at all. You were busy, after all, and Vander was happy to lighten your load.

But as time went on, the things he took over grew bigger—decisions about your personal life, where you went, what you did. “I don’t think you should be hanging around them,” he’d say, and suddenly your plans for the evening were altered without so much as a thought. At first, you were grateful for his care, thinking it was just his way of protecting you. You didn’t realize that it wasn’t about care at all—it was about removing your ability to make your own choices, piece by piece, until you weren’t sure where his influence ended and your own will began.

 You had always been capable of making your own decisions. But gradually, Vander began offering advice with a weight that felt more like instruction. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to go there today. I heard things aren’t safe around that part of town. You’d be better off staying in.” His words weren’t demanding, but they carried a subtle pressure. The more you heard his concerns, the more you started to question your own decisions, second-guessing yourself.

Soon, you found yourself deferring to him more often. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to do things your way, but the more he guided you, the more you felt that maybe he was right. That maybe he knew better. His opinions began to overshadow your own, and with each piece of advice, his grip on your autonomy tightened without either of you realizing it.

Vander never directly tried to pull you away from your friends or your life outside of him, but little by little, he began to discourage it. “You know, they don’t always have your best interests at heart,” he’d say with a concerned look when you mentioned spending time with someone else. He’d never speak ill of your friends outright, but his warnings always lingered in your mind.

You began to notice that you didn’t hang out with your friends as much anymore. His presence seemed to always loom, and when you tried to make plans without him, you felt guilty. His protective smile would reappear whenever you suggested a solo outing, and he’d suddenly have a reason why you shouldn’t go. “I just think it’s better if you stick with me for now. Just to be safe.”

Over time, the lines between his care and his control became blurred. You started to spend more time with him, less with others, and you began to depend on him more than you realized.

Vander’s concern turned into something more infantilizing. He would no longer treat you as an equal, but as someone who needed constant guidance. Every decision you made seemed to be followed by him taking over or offering advice that bordered on patronizing.

“You’ve been through a lot today, you should rest. I’ll take care of things,” he’d say, trying to get you to step back from your own responsibilities. He’d make you feel like you didn’t need to handle things on your own, and that, in itself, became his way of asserting control. You began to rely on him more and more for even the smallest of tasks, from taking care of your finances to managing your relationships with others.

He would smile and say, “I’m just looking out for you. You don’t need to worry about these things, I’m here to handle them for you.” At first, it seemed like an act of kindness, but over time, it felt like your independence was slipping away. Your world became smaller, controlled by the boundaries he’d created, and you found yourself feeling like a child, helpless to make decisions without his approval.

Vander’s control was insidious. His intentions were good—he wanted to protect you, to shield you from the harsh world of Zaun—but in doing so, he lost sight of the balance between care and domination. His protection slowly became a cage, and what was once a bond built on mutual respect began to feel more like an overbearing relationship.

“You know I’m only doing this because I love you, right?” he would say, when the tension between the two of you grew. His eyes, full of affection and pride, would hold you in place, as if to remind you that he was the one who knew best. He wanted to protect you, but in his mind, protecting you meant controlling your life, even if you didn’t see it at first.

The more he infantilized you, the more he believed he was doing what was best. After all, he was the one who had been through it all, the one who understood the world better than you ever could. And you, in turn, began to wonder if he might be right, and you started to lose sight of who you were before he came into your life.

Vander had built a world around you—one where you needed him, one where you couldn’t escape. And you began to wonder: had you been protected… or trapped?

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[wisteriaiswriting]

Trapped With The Twisteds

Words: 553

Summary: Headcanons of being trapped with some twisteds.

Not sure if this counts as yandere so I tagged it in case.

She’s trying her best to be careful with you, but due to the ichor taking over it’s become quite hard.

And with the amount of times she’s accidently hurt you when you’re not in her reach or sight, hitting and/or scratching you in a panic. She’s dedicated to keeping you with her.

Her ichor covered arms are wrapped tightly around you, which keep you trapped against her. Back pressed against her sweater as you are kept stranded in her grasp.

Occasionally she’ll sit down, holding you close in her lap. One hand makes sure you can’t run off while the other gently (As gently as she can be) pats your head.

Tries to keep you away from the spikes on her jacket when she notices how close you are, but it’s kinda difficult as whenever she leans closer to move you away, she’s bringing them closer to you.

I was going to do them separately but why not

If one of them get’s attached to you, it’s more likely the other will as well.

Meaning that you’ll have two very large guard dogs following you around.

And it’s not like you can lose them either, with Pebble being the faster of the two and his ability, there's no chance that you’re outrunning them.

Coal almost immediately started herding you, which leads to Pebble joining her, leaving you with no chance but to listen.

If you ever get hurt or are just being stubborn for whatever reason, they definitely won’t object to dragging you around.

And that's just when they’re awake, you won’t have any higher chances of escaping when they’re asleep either.

They like to sleep around you, practically trapping you inbetween them. So if you wanted or needed to leave, either find a way to not wake them or just don’t.

Both of them wake up very easily, and that’s when they sleep. (I believe the twisted’s don’t need to sleep but do it occasionally.)

In short, these two are just larger, less friendly guard dogs to everyone.

Again, there’s no way you’re escaping him or even getting any sort of distance between him.

Does everything he can to keep you right next to him, this can involve using Ichor to stop you from leaving.

(Going off the headcanon that Dandy can switch between forms.) Isn’t scared of leaving a few scars here and there, he has access to plenty of medkits and bandages, you’ll be fine.

Is terrifying enough to the other twisteds, meaning they won’t dare to try anything unless they want to fight. (And lose.)

Goob does the obvious, hugs.

But this time he gives you no wiggle room, he doesn’t want to risk you running away.

In the small amount of time that is spent not wrapped up in his arms, it’s him following you like a puppy. He’s right behind you as you walk around.

He becomes so upset when you’re not in his sight for any reason, he even sounds like a kicked puppy. Almost crushing you in a hug when you’re back.

It’s very likely that Scraps is on the same floor, so she’s another level of security. And with it being the two of them watching, I don’t think you're escaping, alone at least.

She is constantly acting like a doting mother.

Everyday she is checking over you for any new injuries or changes.

Makes sure to completely clean of fany ichor, she actually doesn’t want you to change. (Even though it would be easier for her.)

Very quickly becomes overprotective, keeps you behind her when other twisteds are nearby. Always has one hand holding onto you, which ironically covers you in inchor. So she’ll take you away to clean it off.

Being a twisted doesn’t stop her from holding tea partys between the two of you. The flavours and types are significantly worse but you don’t have the heart to say anything.

[mrsfancyferrari]

MASTERLIST - F1

🕊️┆Latanya ， 라타냐 — she ִ ࣪𖤐 ˖ ✦ › entj-t 𓂃 ★ @lando's 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹

Into It Chase Atlantic ♥︎ ⇄ ◁◁ 𝚰𝚰 ▷▷ ↻ ⁰⁰'²⁵ ━━●─────── ⁰³'¹⁶

Lando Norris - "Little Lando"

More Kisses? - LN4 + “One kiss is just never enough.”

This Christmas - LN4 + “There’s no way I’m letting you spend Christmas alone.”

Want You - LN4 + "But I don't want them, I want you." 🥧🏈

I'm All Yours - You and Lando have been in the talking stage for some months now. After Lando's third win, he knows he's missing something important. You being his girlfriend.

My Type - where the reader thinks she isn’t Lando’s type

Our Love Is Strong - You weren't going to let your eating disorder destroy your relationship until it did.

Good Luck Kiss - Lando is a fully independent guy until you are around.

First Choice - Lando and the Reader have been best friends since they were babies. Lando has been in love with the Reader since he was a teenager, which is why he has never had a serious relationship.

Gold in Snow - you and lando are in a relationship but you're reserving hate comments about you being a ginger, with freckles because the fans don't think you're his type

Sweet Pain - lando just took his wisdom tooth out and you, his best friend, was assigned to take care of him at home

Oscar Piastri

Mistletoe Magic - OP81 + “What are you doing with that mistletoe– oh.”

Baby Fever - OP81 + babysitting a child

24 Hours Without You - A dare from Lando led to Oscar not having any contact from you for 24 hours. Well he tried to.

My Husband - when you accidently called Oscar your husband, you didn't think it would affect him that much

Max Verstappen - "Mad Max"

Teach Me - MV1 + “I never had any special tradition for the holidays while growing up,"

My Priority - MV1 + "You're my priority." 🍂🦃

Birthday Boy - It's getting to Max's birthday and you know what he wants for it.

Love Sick - You and Max have been together for a while and you knew he loved you but you didn't know to what extent.

Favourite Smell - a pilot with max and it ends up in smut like "I love your smell" +18

Timeless Desire - You had always been Mercedes fan since you were young and it didn't change when you became Max's best friend. Based on British Grand Prix.

Power Couple - Max Verstappen and the Reader have been friends since childhood and started dating when they were 15. The Reader is currently the number one ranked tennis player, with 2 Wimbledon titles, 3 French Open titles, and 2 Australian Open titles to her name. She is the best in women's singles and doubles tennis at the moment.

Don't Stop - "The problem is, if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop."

Daniel Ricciardo - "Honey Badger"

Fragments of Hope - You had an argument with Daniel and you decided to leave him for a while. What you didn't know is that he can't live without you.

Birthday Boy - It's Daniel's birthday and you two are still oblivious to your feelings. Time for the grid's help.

Charles Leclerc - "Lord Perceval"

Winter Wonder - CL16 + Winter Power Outage

You Know Me Best - Charles has a bad day and you as his best friend always knows what he wants, but do you really? +18

Just One Kiss - You & Charles are just best friends but when he wins in his home for the first time, things might change

Speak Baby - you are going out with Charles, you can speak his language, but don't tell him. You were hiding your abilities due to an insecurity about your ability.

Lose my Mind - “The way your eyes get darker when you get aroused, is making me lose my mind.” +18

Carlos Sainz Jr. - "Chilli"

Christmas Ball - CS55 + fake dating for a Christmas party/ball

Happy Ever After - a Romeo and Juliet vibe

Golf Gurl - an AU where Carlos is attracted to the new receptionist at the golf course he and Papa Sainz frequent

Destiny's Will - You and Carlos were childhood friends until you two were separated before he got to F1. The next time they meet, they're enemies.

More Amor - you are going out with Carlos, you can speak his language, but you don't tell him. You were hiding your abilities due to an insecurity about your ability.

Heavy Love - Carlos got a surgery of his appendix but that doesn't stop him from treating his girl how he usually does +18

Lewis Hamilton - "Billion Dollar Man"

NY Kisses - LH44 + New Year Kisses

Birthday Wishes - LH44 + Birthday Wishes

His Feast - LH44 + slow feasting on you +18

George Russell - "Mr. Saturday"

Start Something - GR63 + "Don't start something you can't finish." 🥧🏈

My Darling - Out of all the things George says over the years, there's one word that still makes you blush.

Kimi Antonelli - "Max's Successor"

Italian Lessons - You're trying to learn Italian again and what a better way to learn than to get your best friend's best friend to teach you.

Franco Colapinto

Dancing on Ice - FC43 + “I can’t ice skate amor, I’ll break all my bones.”

Distract You - FC43 + "Let me distract you."

Sleep Good - Charles/ Lewis/ Carlos (separately)

You could write a driver x reader where while they make love and the reader falls asleep because they work too much and the driver laughs. +18

Lando Norris - "Little Lando"

Our Doggie - Part 1 - Part 2

After McLaren let you watch your boyfriend interact with the animals from the Battersea. One dog found a clear interest in you instead....

Carlos Sainz Jr. - "Chilli"

Real Love - Part 1 - Part 2

You and Carlos were just supposed to be a PR couple for less than a year but someone decided to catch feelings....

Charles Leclerc - "Lord Perceval"

A Lover's Touch - Part 1 - Part 2 - etc...

In a world of where soulmates can be found easily, Charles was struggling a lot to find his one....

Max Verstappen - "Mad Max"

Need Saving - Save You - We're Saved - My Saviour

You are the first woman to be racing in Formula 1 and you and Max are already best friends. To Jos' dismay.....

A Second Chance?

Episode 1 - Episode 2 - Episode 3 - Episode 4 - Episode 5 - etc...

You came to Love Island to find true love after your ex left your life in chaos. you didn't think you would find it so easy....

Lewis Hamilton - "Billion Dollar Man"

Wild Imagination - Show You Domination

You were just an interviewer for the Met Gala when you were able to meet the Sir Lewis Hamilton.....

Marriage of Convenience

Episode 1 - Episode 2 - Episode 3 - Episode 4 -

Lewis has to get married to you for a year for his engagement in Ferrari. Who knew how much he would get sucked into your life….

Source: cafekitsune

[nadvs]

watch and learn (part four)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Rafe is relieved that you don’t linger in the morning. He’s not one for pillow talk.

All you did was sleep next to each other, but waking up next to a girl to talk and cuddle is just too much for him. It borders on boyfriend shit, and he doesn’t do boyfriend shit.

He woke up with you pressed tightly against him, legs tangled, his nose buried in your hair. And maybe he did like it for a second, but that was just from the daze of part-consciousness.

Rafe lends you a pair of sweatpants on top of the boxers and t-shirt you’ve already wearing so you can deal with your door’s lock issue.

You leave his room without many words exchanged, thankfully able to sort the problem out soon after putting an emergency request in with maintenance.

Rafe spends most of his Sunday at the frat house, playing video games with his buddies. When Blake settles onto the couch, he pats Rafe’s shoulder. Rafe is focusing on the screen, but he glances at his friend for a second.

“I dm’d her,” he says with a grin. Rafe immediately clues in that he’s talking about you.

“I put in a good word for you,” Rafe replies, glad he has the game to pay attention to. He feels awkward talking about this. About you.

“Appreciate it, man,” he laughs.

“You thinking of, uh, dating her or…?” Rafe asks, tense but desperate to know if he might lose the best fuck buddy he’s ever had.

“Maybe. We’ll see,” Blake says. Rafe sees him typing from his peripheral vision, surely working on a message to you.

Rafe gave you the heads up, so when you’re sitting in your room reading an article for school, you’re not surprised when Blake follows and messages you on Instagram. You follow back and respond, open to getting to know him.

After dinner that night, Rafe texts you: cowgirl time?

You laugh. It’s a stark difference from the g-rated messages you’ve been getting from Blake all day.

You reply: i’ll be over soon

You’re holding Rafe’s folded clothes when you knock. He opens his door and takes them from you as you walk into his room.

“They fixed my lock,” you say. “One question for you, though.”

Rafe shuts the door and drops the clothes onto his desk, then picks up the wrapped condom he has ready and tosses it on the bed.

“What?” he asks as you sit on his mattress.

“How come you were cuddling me this morning if you hate it so much?” you say.

Rafe feels the tips of his ears burn with embarrassment.

“I wasn’t,” he says. It’s funny seeing him shy for once. It’s even a little cute.

He was embracing you pretty sweetly this morning. You woke up with his warm, heavy arm wrapped around your shoulders, his head nuzzled into the nape of your neck, his snores sporadic and low.

You know it was just a sleep-induced reflex in his tiny bed, but you can’t pass up a chance to mess with him.

“It’s okay to like it,” you joke. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Rafe can’t have this conversation. He leans over, his hands on your cheeks as he kisses you. He’s not wasting any more time.

You let him push you onto your back, lying in the middle of his bed, your head resting on his pillow. Rafe hovers over you and grinds against you, his hard bulge pushing against your middle.

You’re already throbbing for him as his lips roam over your neck. You angle yourself so that he can have full access to you, and he accepts the invitation immediately, his hot mouth on your throat.

He’s slow and tender. This is a far cry from the man who immediately went to groping you just a few nights ago.

Your hands find his hair, raking through his soft locks as he kisses and sucks at your neck. He lets out a soft, nearly silent moan as gently graze his scalp. The sensation gives him goosebumps.

“That feel nice?” you whisper with a smile. Rafe can only nod. He didn’t even have to tell you to do it. He didn’t even know he liked it until you did it.

You continue to play with his hair while he kisses your neck. Rafe feels you writhing beneath him, as if your body is begging for his.

You take turns taking off each other’s clothes with earnest movements, your pulse growing even faster once his boxers are off, his cock raised and swollen. He lingers over you, eyes sweeping over your face, before he puts his mouth on your neck again.

He kisses and sucks, making you gently buck your hips against him.

“You gonna ride me, baby?” Rafe asks against your skin. Your yes comes out with a raw exhale.

His hand cups your waist, pushing to encourage you to roll to your side and switch positions. He settles on his back as you straddle him, feeling the underside of his firm length pressing against your stomach.

“Don’t be shy,” Rafe says. You look down at him with a hungry look in your eyes and nod. It’s exhilarating to see you hanging on his words; outside of sex, you gibe and pester each other, but here, right now, you’re in perfect harmony.

You pick up the shiny condom wrapper he left on the bed and he smirks in satisfaction.

“Put it on me,” he instructs. “It shows how bad you want it.”

You open the wrapper and settle on your knees to set the condom on his tip, rolling the lubed latex down his thick cock.

The sight of you holding him with one hand and rolling the condom down with the other makes Rafe’s brain foggy.

You thought you’d feel graceless turning to mount him in reverse cowgirl, but it feels natural and familiar now that you’re getting more comfortable with him, remembering this is all to help each other improve. You sink down onto him, body tensing at the feeling of him stretching you out.

You shudder, eyes squeezing shut, remembering how he encouraged you talk through it last night in the car.

“You’re so big,” you praise, voice breathy.

“Yeah?” he groans behind you. “You take my dick so fucking good.”

Your silky walls hug him perfectly, your body starting to rock. He watches your pussy swallow his girth, wishing you would go faster, but letting you take your time and adjust.

Rafe always went fast before, right to what he wanted most, but you’re teaching him that there’s pleasure in the lead-up, too. Coming up with the proposal to do this with you was the best idea he’s ever had.

You arch your back, trembling as you start to quicken your pace, sliding up and down his slick cock and gasping at the pleasure of him hitting so deep inside of you.

Rafe’s breaths are ragged as he watches your ass bounce with every slam. His hands are on your hips, but his touch is feather-light, letting you do it all.

Between your thrusts, you pause when he’s bottomed out to writhe and roll on him, enjoying every angle as he massages inside of you.

“Yeah, just like that,” he groans as you squeeze around him.

“Should I…” you begin. You look over your shoulder to see the dazzling sight of his quirked up lips, lids heavy, bare chest glistening with sweat. You remind yourself to stop being so nervous. “I’m gonna touch myself.”

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Good girl.” He desperately wants to watch, but he’s here to get better in bed, and putting your pleasure first sometimes is clearly something he needs to work on.

Rafe hears you moan, knowing you’re rubbing yourself. He looks up at the ceiling to keep himself from cumming from hearing your groans mixed with the sound of your wetness.

“Shit, I…” you say, your thighs starting to weaken. “Okay, you can help a little.”

He immediately bucks his hips against you, positioning himself so he can fuck you while underneath you. The pressure from him jolting up against you is like a drug.

“How am I doing?” he rasps. Your moans are telling him everything he needs to know.

“You’re… fuck…” you breathe, your body shaking with every thrust. “Perfect.”

The pleasure from your words quells him. He feels you clenching around him and he knows with certainty now when you’re about to reach your peak.

His hands are on the small of your back, fingers splayed over your skin, as you ride him into a mind-blowing orgasm. Every inch of your skin tingles as you cum, looking down at your hands on his sheets.

You eventually lift off of him, breathless, turning to look at him. Rafe loves that expression on your face, pure elation and fatigue.

“However you want me,” you tell him tiredly, eager to give him the same feeling you gave him.

“On your knees,” Rafe says. He doesn’t even have to think about it. You twist into position for him, cheek pressed against his bed, unable to hold yourself up any longer.

Rafe’s hand is on his cock as he guides himself into you, revelling over how pretty your cunt looks, so swollen and wet.

His hands are tight against your hips as he slams into you, making your body rock. He looks down to your face, taking in your profile as you accept all of him, your lips parted.

“However I want?” he mutters, panting as he pushes in and out of you. “That’s how much you love this dick, yeah?”

“However you want,” you echo, your voice raspy from tiredness. “Whatever will make you cum inside me.”

He slaps your ass, the lust taking over him, and immediately worries it was too much.

The low moan you let out tells him it was a good move. He smirks to himself, thrashing harder, balls slapping against you, bed squeaking beneath you.

You feel him harden and with a few more sloppy thrusts, he cums, letting out a tangled string of fuck’s.

He pulls out and you drop to your side, laughing out of bliss. You knew sex was good, but never that it was this good.

As Rafe cleans up, you sit up to find your clothes, utterly fucked out. While you’re sliding your top on, he sits on the edge of his bed close to you, boxers back on and blue eyes travelling over your face.

“So, how… was your day?” he stiffly asks.

You laugh. Hard. He’s so awkward about it, but he’s trying. It’s endearing.

“Aftercare,” you say. “Look at you go.”

Your laugh is contagious, making him chuckle, too.

“It was good. My readings are kind of killing me, but good. How was your day?”

You stand to put your pants on as Rafe watches you, his dirty blond hair tousled.

“Just played video games with the guys,” he replies.

“You know we’re here for school, right, frat boy?” you tease.

“What’s that?” Rafe plays along. You chuckle and nudge his shoulder.

“I need a shower,” you say. “Promise I won’t show up in a towel this time. Well done.”

“You’re welcome,” he says. You smile and roll your eyes at him before leaving his room.

Between gruellingly long classes and hanging out with friends in his free time, the week seems to get away from Rafe. Before he knows it, it’s Thursday night and he’s hanging out with his brothers at the frat house.

Someone mentions ordering food, and as a show of camaraderie, Rafe picks up the tab. As he sits at the dining table amongst large group of guys, Sam gets to talking.

“Rafe, you think we could go with your car tomorrow, too?” Sam asks. “You could fit four of us, right?”

“Yeah, sure.” Rafe figures that all the new pledges are going to get stuck with the jobs nobody else wants, like driving to certain outings. It’s only an hour drive, though, so he won’t complain.

The frat has plans to go south to Sam’s family’s lakehouse for the weekend. He’s only been part of the frat for almost half a month now, but Rafe is thoroughly enjoying having such a full social calendar.

“It was supposed to be just us brothers…” He shoots a look at Blake.

“What? You said it was cool,” Blake laughs.

“Who else is coming?” Rafe asks.

“Blake invited your hot neighbor,” Sam says. Rafe almost wants to say that you have a name, the reflex to defend you surprising him.

“She said yes?” Rafe asks, his tone hastily snide.

“She’s bringing friends, too,” Blake says, not catching onto Rafe’s irritation. “It’ll be more fun having girls around. Trust me.”

“Can I invite some girls, too?” another frat brother asks.

Rafe glances down at his paper plate, his jaw tight. If you start something real with Blake, this is over. He regrets not seeing you since Sunday. He should have taken advantage of the potentially limited time with you.

When he heads back to his dorm room later that night, Rafe texts you: soo ur coming this weekend?

You respond: what kind of coming?

You’re at Liv’s, talking about what to pack for the upcoming getaway. You’re only staying for a night and half a day, but you don’t want to risk forgetting anything.

“This one? Or this one?” Liv asks, holding up two bikinis.

“The red one,” you answer. Blake only mentioned that there’s a hot tub at the lakehouse about ten times.

You didn’t think you’d say yes when he first asked about this weekend, but when Liv and three other friends said they’d be up for it, you figured a getaway would be fun. Even if it involved a group of rowdy frat boys.

Blake mentioned it was supposed to be a bonding trip, whatever that means, but said that he wants you to come. You’re still not sure how you feel about him, but you’re willing to pursue it.

Your phone buzzes.

Rafe: lol shut up

You smile at the message.

“What’d he say?” Liv asks, a smile on her face. She knows you’ve been casually texting Blake back and forth.

“It’s Rafe this time,” you tell her. “Probably a booty call.”

You reply to him: yeah I’m coming. does that make me a frat bro too

Rafe: u wish

You: i do :( i really do wish

You see the bubbles on your screen telling you that he’s typing.

Rafe: come over?

You just got to Liv’s and don’t want to bail on her for a guy. So you reply to Rafe: can’t tonight.

Rafe’s stomach drops at the notification. Maybe you’re done. Maybe all he got was three nights with you, before another guy swept in to take away the best no-strings-attached sex he could ask for.

He feels better when you reply: but i’ll see you tomorrow :). Good. At least you’re not tied down to anybody yet.

When you pull into the driveway of the lakehouse the next evening, you realize the word house doesn’t cut it. Maybe manor would be a better fit. Or palace. The place is gigantic.

You and your friends pile out of the car and enter the storm of loud men enjoying uncurbed fun and excessive beer. Sigma Chi brothers are scattered around the first story of the house, but the majority of them are surrounding the kitchen island, bottles and solo cups littering the granite counter-top.

Rafe has to look away when Blake greets you with a hug. He hasn’t mentioned to anybody that you’re technically still hooking up, but now, being in the same room with both of you, he feels a competitive urge catch fire in his gut.

He thought he liked Blake. He doesn’t right now.

Thankfully, your friend groups seem to naturally merge together. The endless amount of liquor probably helps.

During a rambunctious game of flip cup that you decide to sit out, in the haze of your tipsiness, you’re not sure if Rafe finds you or you find him or you find each other at the same time, but you’re soon standing by the fridge together, tension thick between you as you watch the drinking game unfold.

Rafe can’t help himself. He has to ask.

“What were you so busy with last night?”

“I was with my friend,” you say. “What were you so eager to practice?”

Rafe cracks a smile, ducking his head so you and only you can hear his low, smooth voice.

“I wanna see how fast I can make you cum.” Arousal coils in your stomach instantly. “I bet I could do it in a minute now.”

He pulls back, his smile coy.

“We’ve had sex like two times-”

“Three.”

“Three,” you laugh. “And you’re that sure of your skills?”

Rafe simply nods, taking a slow drag of his drink.

“I don’t know where you get that confidence from,” you say, looking at him with feigned disapproval.

“You called me perfect,” he says.

“Doesn’t sound like me.”

The group playing flip cup erupts in a loud applause. You can tell which group lost the game immediately by looking at Blake, who’s laughing and excitedly shaking his friend by the shoulders.

You watch him, realizing okay, you definitely have a crush. He’s cute and charismatic and if the messages you’ve exchanged this week are any indication of his character, he’s kind, too.

Rafe is looking at you the entire time, at the smile on your face.

“And you like this?” you tease, looking back at Rafe and gesturing to the group of boisterous frat boys.

“You mean fun?” Rafe replies. You laugh. You can admit you’re having fun, too. But this is what you and Rafe do. You mess with each other.

“I couldn’t be around this 24/7,” you say.

“I’m gonna be when I move in to the house next semester.” Rafe realizes he’s waiting on your reaction with bated breath, to see how you feel about not sharing a wall anymore.

But he’s interrupted by Blake, who approaches you with a drunken smile.

“Why didn’t you play?” he asks softly, tapping your shoulder.

“For my own safety,” you reply. “You guys are insane.”

“She’s so rude,” Blake says to Rafe, who can only nod and take another sip of his drink to swallow down the confusing lump of anger he feels growing in his chest.

“You mentioned a hot tub?” you say to Blake, the promise of a warm soak sounding amazing. Rafe wonders what else Blake mentioned to you.

Blake’s smile widens and when he offers his hand, you take it and let him lead you out of the kitchen. Rafe’s fist tightens around his cup.

Liv and two other frat boys join you and Blake in the hot tub. You have fun talking and joking with them as your beer wears off. You notice Blake moving closer to you as the night goes on.

Things slow down close to 2 a.m. People start to retire to the guest rooms. Some don’t even make it and pass out on the couch.

Rafe is still awake when you come through the back porch doors in your bikini, your hardly covered body wet. The sight makes his groin tighten.

He’s standing in the dining room snacking on pretzels and you meet his gaze. He has something about him that strikes you every time you see him. He’s just so handsome.

He seems entirely aware and alert.

“You’re sober, too?” you say with a surprised laugh, pacing to the other side of the dining table.

“I am,” he replies. You lean over to take a pretzel, giving him a good glance at your cleavage.

Truthfully, Rafe cut himself off when he started feeling buzzed. He stayed awake and sober for you.

The moment he watched Blake lead you away, he knew he had to have you at least one more time before you’re spoken for. Nobody’s going to take you away from him any longer, at least not tonight.

So before Sam went to bed, he convinced him to give him the keys to his family’s boat that’s sitting in the water down by the lakeside dock.

“You ever fucked on a boat?” Rafe asks, his eyes glinting, his dimples deep. He holds up a key.

You put a hand on your hip, excitement flooding your every sense.

“First a car, now a boat?” you say, a smirk growing on your face. Is he seriously about to take you out this late at night? He’s insatiable. And adventurous. It’s thrilling.

“Come on,” Rafe rasps with a bit of a whine to his voice, stepping closer to you, towering over you as his hand drags over your arm.

You couldn’t say no if you tried.

(part five)

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[sommerbueckers]

can you do another part of drew’s babysitter 😁 it was just too good fr

𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐰'𝐬 𝐁𝐚����𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫³

___________________________________________________________

✰ 𝐰𝐜 :: 𝟐.𝟓𝐤

✰ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

✰ 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢'𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐨𝐨

___________________________________________________________

THE LINDBERGH CENTER WAS packed to the brim for the game, a sea full of our school colors. I was standing with a few of my friends, a Wayzata Trojans hoodie hugging my body. My hair was up in a bun, streaks of blue and yellow eyeblack covering my cheeks. I could see her across the court, clad in her black and blue uniform with her warmup jacket zipped over it. Her ponytail swung gracefully behind her, covering up the '1' that was displayed proudly on her back.

I wanna point at you when the game ends and we're up twenty.

Paige's words rung in your ears, they had been for the entirety of the weekend. To say I had been looking forward to the game had been an understatement, it felt like it had been within arm's reach ever since Paige and I talked about it Friday night. It was different than all the others; this time, Paige knew I was here, she knew I was watching.

"I swear we better win tonight— or at least come close to it," my best friend, Elaine, mumbled from beside me. She was cleaning off her camera, readying to take a selfie of us. "Does my hair look good?"

"You look fine," I reassured her, crossing my arms over my chest. I was feeling more nervous for the game than usual, my typical smile being replaced with a look of concentration. I wanted someone to win, and of course I had convinced myself it was Wayzata. But deep down, I knew I wanted it to be Hopkins. Paige would have something to say to me after that, and after not talking to her after... Friday, talking to her was something I had been craving.

"Say 'Fuck the Royals!'" Elaine exclaimed, sticking out her tongue for the camera. I remained silent, pursing my lips out toward her cheek. "Cute!" She began typing vigorously on the screen

Paige seemed entirely at ease; laughing with her teammates, dancing on the court, not a single worry crossing her mind. I shamelessly watched her, blocking out whatever Elaine was saying beside me. The blonde's ability to be completely focused and have her own fun at the same time was mesmerizing, she was mesmerizing.

By halftime, the Trojans were trailing by two, and by the final buzzer we were trailing by twenty-one. Our student section was defeated to say the least, low heads and hushed voices. I bit my lip as I stared around at them, feeling slightly guilty. We had been bound to lose, Hopkins had gone undefeated for the last two seasons. But a part of me was glad, because Paige would be in a good mood.

Elaine and I followed the crowd of students off the bleachers and onto the court. She was sulking, her arms crossed and eyebrows pointed downward. "It was a bad night for us," she argued.

"I'm gonna go speak to the Bueckers, i'll be back," I told her quickly, weaving my way through all the students. The family was sitting in the 'Home' section of the bleachers, Bob was standing as he conversed with another man. Drew was showing something to his mom on the phone in his hand, laughing wildly.

When he saw me walking over to them, his smile grew from ear to ear. "We whooped you!" he said, pointing.

"You better knock it off, or you'll be lookin' for a new babysitter," you warned jokingly, taking the seat beside him.

"How are you, hon?" Moe asked with a kind smile.

"I'm really good, how are you guys?"

"We're great!" she exclaimed, "Drew's been talking about you non stop, says he wants you to come over even when we're not out."

The boy hid his face as his mom laughed, I gently nudged him. "Maybe if you do all your homework and go to bed on time, then i'll think about it."

"Speaking of this," Moe started, "if you're not busy this Saturday, Bob and I are going out again and Paige is always out doin' her own thing, do you mind working?"

"Not at all! Just let me know what time."

Paige was coming up the bleachers, holding the strap of her backpack. She greeted her dad first, then Moe, and her and Drew did a little handshake before she turned to me. There was a large smirk on her lips, the cockiest one I could've ever imagined.

"Twenty-one points," she said.

"Yes, yes," I waved her off dismissively, "I was watching."

"Did you notice I didn't point? I spared you some dignity, you should be thanking me," her tone was teasing.

"Get outta here!" I gently kicked her, shaking my head. She pretended to be hurt, grabbing at her leg and falling into the seat next to me. I could feel the heat from her body radiating off of her, she laid her forehead on my shoulder and made crying sounds. "You're honestly a mess," I brushed her off.

"So are you, at least you will be," she whispered, earning an eyebrow raise from me. "Wanna come to mine tonight?"

You titled your head, slightly groaning. "Can't, got a paper I need to finish."

She fell silent for a moment, and I could almost see the gears turning in her head as she thought of a solution. Then, she perked up.

"How 'bout I come to yours then?"

My family was home, but my parents were no doubt already laid down in bed, and my sister wouldn't be a problem. Paige was giving me that same look that made me lose it last time, I was shamelessly losing it this time too. There was a lot on the line; my phone, my car, my door privileges, all for some pussy. I was gonna do it too.

"You can't park there," I whispered, "and you gotta come through my window so call me when you're outside."

"Bet."

HOW WAS I EVEN supposed to focus on my paper when Paige was coming over? I had taken another shower, threw the clothes that were on my floor into the deepest depths of my closet, curled my lashes, put on some blush, and topped it off with a coat of my favorite cherry chapstick. The pajamas that I had chosen were simple, loose cotton shorts and a t-shirt. I didn't want to look like I had put too much into my appearance.

When the long awaited ring of my phone finally came, I stared at the screen for a second before answering. I could hear Paige walking on the other end. I got up and walking over to my window, keeping the phone to my ear with my shoulder while I unlocked it. Poking my head out, I laughed at the sight of her walking down the street. She kept checking her surroundings.

"A little paranoid, aren't ya?" I said.

"You try walkin' alone at night, not the best feelin'."

"It's okay, I got y're back."

"From the window?" she scoffed out.

"Exactly."

When she reached the house, she disconnected the line and stuffed the phone into her pocket. I didn't even have to tell her to pick up the ladder, she placed it against the house and began climbing. I waited patiently with my hands on the seal, a smile playing at my lips the closer she got.

The air was chilly, goosebumps housing themselves on my arms the longer I stood there.

"Will you hurry up?" I whisper-yelled, she glared at me.

"This ladder is unstable," she breathed out once she reached me.

"You set it up."

She climbed through the window, turning around and shutting it behind her. She breathed out a sigh, the warmth of the room engulfing her. She rubbed her hands together.

"Nice room," she commented, looking around. She noticed the computer, "You finish your paper?"

"No..." I mumbled, "It's not due until Friday though."

"Wait—y're tellin' me you made me sneak all the way over here and your paper isn't due 'till Friday?" Paige frowned, her eyebrows creasing.

"I didn't make you do anything, y're here 'cus you wanna be."

Her eyes narrowed briefly, and she tilted her head before a smile broke out onto her face. She slowly walked over to me, her hands slithering around my waist and pulling me in.

"You might be right."

"I know i'm right," you sassed, palms pressing to her chest.

"Don't act like you don't want me here." Her voice had fell to something just above a whisper.

"Well I don't recall saying that I did..."

"Then tell me to leave."

You didn't move, didn't utter a word. Her grip on your body tightened, and you were sure that even if you did tell her to leave, she wouldn't. You could feel her breath warming the tip of your nose, her eyes boring into yours as if they were the only things keeping her here.

"C'mon," she urged teasingly, knowing I wouldn't. "Tell me to go home."

When I answered her with silence once more, she pressed her lips firmly against mine. She tasted like mint and...Paige, i'd never get tired of it. I cupped her face and held her tight, moving my lips in sync with hers. She picked up the pace, walking back backwards until my shins hit my footboard.

I pulled her down with me by her shirt as I fell, drawing out a surprised laugh from her that I quieted with a kiss. She climbed in top of me, her soft hair falling over our faces like a blonde curtain. The kisses became deeper, more passionate, it was as if I could feel every inch and crevice of her mouth. Her tongue swirled around my own, eliciting a moan from me.

Raincheck though, for sure.

Those were Paige's own words from last time, the very sentence that made me want to flip us over and take control. I pushed her back by her shoulders, moving her body aside with my leg. She fell onto the other side of the bed, face twisted in confusion. I straddled her, sultrily flipping my hair to one side.

"Fuck you look good," she mumbled dazedly, hands finding their way to my hips.

"I know," I whispered, reconnecting our lips.

She let out a soft moan when I bite her bottom lip, now trailing kisses across her jaw and down her neck. One of her hands was tightly squeezing my thigh while the other slid under my shirt to roam across my back, holding me close.

I pulled at the hem of her shirt just as I finished leaving a mark on her collarbone. She hurriedly pulled it off.

"This too," I tugged on the strap of her sports bra. Once again, she obliged without hesitation. She lay half bare underneath me, tits small and perky, nipples hard and sensitive. I grazed my fingertips over them, and she breathed out a shaky breath. I maintained eye contact as I slowly lowered my head, twirling my tongue around one of her erect nipples.

I took as much of it into my mouth as I could, completely soaking her tit. I massaged the other with my hand, gently pulling and twisting the bud. Her back was arched off of the bed, wanting more, needing more. I pushed them together as far as I could, licking the visible separation between them.

"I need you to fuck me..." she whined. She tangled her hands in my hair, pulling my head back to look me in the eye. "Fuck me," she repeated, though this time it was firmer. She's wasn't asking. I laughed at her, my tongue still doing work on her nipple. It was then that I learned Paige didn't like teasing. She pulled harder on my hair, a gasp escaping my parted lips. "Fucking do it."

Leaving open-mouthed kisses down her stomach, I inched closer and closer to where I knew she wanted me. I hooked my fingers around the waistband of her pants, and she lifted her hips for me. With one swift motion, I removed her pants and underwear. I disregarded them somewhere on my floor, spreading her legs by her knees.

"That pussy is so wet baby," I murmured, eyeing it like a woman starved. I bit my lip at the sight of her dripping cunt, spread and soaked just for me. I hold her lips open with my fingers, blowing onto her. She bucked her lips and grabbed the sheets.

"Fuck c'mon, c'mon," she whined out desperately.

"So needy..." I teased. I licked two of my fingers, though with how wet she was I knew it wouldn't be a problem, and ran them along her slit. She was warm, arousal continuously leaking out of her. I brought my mouth to her puffy clit, flattening my tongue against it and pressing. My fingers teased the entrance of her hole, inserting the tips before taking them back out.

I began to flick my tongue back and forth over her clit, her breathing becoming louder and unstable. I slid my fingers in without warning, and Paige's hand flew to her mouth to conceal her moan. I closed my eyes, humming in satisfaction at the taste of her. She was pouring out onto my tongue, giving me every last bit of her.

She moved her hips desperately, grinding against my face. I quickened the pace of my fingers, wet noises filling the room. I moved my head around wildly, nose pressing against her clit. Paige was a whining mess, her eyebrows knitted together and lip taken in between her teeth. She tried to press her thighs together, but I kept them spread with my hand.

I turned my hand, fingers hitting deeper as I backed away to let my thumb do work on her clit. She stared down at me; my mouth glistened with her slick and my eyes held a dazed look.

"'M gonna cum," she whispered. "Mmm fuck 'm so close." She was moving her legs around, almost trying to get away from me. I went faster, her juices splashing out on me, her muffled moans filling my ears, her chest heaving quickly, none of it stopped me.

"Ah, fuck..."

I felt her clench around my fingers, and I held my mouth close to her, wanting to taste every last drop. With one last thrust from me, and one last cry from her, she spilled out onto my fingers. Her legs trembled and she was pressing my head into her pussy, eagerly grinding onto my face.

I kept curling my fingers inside of her as she rode out her orgasm. My sheets were soaked, but I didn't mind. I cleaned Paige up with my tongue, gently running it up and down her lips as she let out tiny moans and sighs. I kissed my way back up to her face, smiling down proudly at her.

"Y're good at that," she laughed.

"Tell me somethin' I don't know," I smirked, pressing my lips to hers and letting her taste herself.

She wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled me down into her, "Y're turn."

___________________________________________________________

[rmview]

dating another member’s older sibling, ATEEZ.

featuring — ateez members x gn!reader ( masterlist )

summary — an imagine of how the ateez boys sneak around when they’re secretly dating another member’s older sibling!

contents — fluff, no warnings.

hong ★ joong

hongjoong prided himself on his ability to keep a secret, and dating yunho’s older sibling in secret was no exception. he knew the chaos it would bring if yunho found out — he could already imagine the loud accusations and awkward silences. but that didn’t stop him from stealing precious moments with you whenever he could.

one afternoon, you had agreed to meet hongjoong in a quiet café across town, far from yunho’s usual haunts. he was already seated in the corner, a baseball cap pulled low over his face, when you walked in. his face lit up at the sight of you, and he couldn’t help but reach for your hand under the table once you sat down.

“you’re late,” he teased, his thumb brushing against your knuckles.

“traffic,” you replied, rolling your eyes before grinning. “yunho almost caught me leaving, too. he asked where i was going.”

hongjoong smirked. “what did you tell him?”

“that i was meeting a friend. which isn’t a lie, technically,” you said, leaning closer.

hongjoong chuckled softly, but his expression turned serious. “we need to be careful. he’s not stupid, and if he starts connecting the dots…”

“i know,” you said, squeezing his hand. “but this is worth it, joong. you’re worth it.”

he smiled, his heart swelling with affection. moments like these reminded him why he was willing to take the risk.

later, back at the dorms, hongjoong nearly had a heart attack when yunho suddenly asked, “have you been texting someone a lot lately? you’re always grinning at your phone.”

hongjoong kept his face neutral, glancing up from his laptop. “just group stuff. you know, schedules and all.”

yunho narrowed his eyes but didn’t push further. hongjoong let out a quiet sigh of relief. it was a delicate game they were playing, but as long as he could keep seeing you, he’d find a way to make it work.

seong ★ hwa

seonghwa wasn’t one for taking risks, but dating san’s older sibling secretly was an exception. he couldn’t bear to stay away, even if it meant sneaking around and dodging san’s sharp eyes.

one evening, you and seonghwa were sitting in his car, parked on a quiet street near your house. the windows were slightly fogged up from the cold, and seonghwa’s fingers brushed against yours as he passed you a cup of coffee he’d brought.

“san’s been suspicious lately,” you said with a sigh. “he keeps asking who i’m spending so much time with.”

seonghwa frowned, his brows knitting together. “what did you tell him?”

“that i’ve been busy with work,” you replied, shrugging. “but i don’t think he bought it.”

seonghwa’s lips twitched into a small smile. “you’re a terrible liar.”

you nudged him playfully. “i wouldn’t have to lie if you’d just tell him.”

“and deal with san glaring at me for the rest of my life? no, thanks,” seonghwa said, chuckling. but there was a nervous edge to his laugh.

he reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “i hate hiding this, but i hate the idea of losing you even more.”

your heart melted at his words, and you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

when you finally pulled away, seonghwa sighed. “we’ll figure it out. i just… i need a little more time to figure out how to tell him without it turning into a disaster.”

yun ★ ho

yunho never thought he’d be the type to sneak around, but dating wooyoung’s older sibling required a level of stealth he hadn’t known he was capable of. the problem wasn’t just that wooyoung was protective — it was that wooyoung had a way of knowing everything.

one afternoon, yunho met you at a secluded park. you’d brought a picnic basket, and yunho spread out the blanket while keeping a wary eye out for anyone who might recognize him.

“this feels like a spy movie,” you said with a laugh, handing him a sandwich.

yunho grinned, his dimple showing. “yeah, except i’m a terrible spy. if wooyoung ever caught us, i’d fold in five seconds.”

you chuckled, shaking your head. “he’d probably strangle you first and ask questions later.”

yunho laughed, but the thought clearly made him nervous. “i wish we didn’t have to hide,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “i want to be able to hold your hand in public, take you out without looking over my shoulder.”

“we’ll get there,” you said, squeezing his hand. “wooyoung will come around. eventually.”

yunho nodded, though he wasn’t entirely convinced. that evening, back at the dorm, wooyoung flopped onto the couch next to him.

“you’ve been acting weird lately,” wooyoung said, squinting at him. “anything you want to tell me?”

yunho’s heart skipped a beat, but he forced a laugh. “weird? me? nah, you’re imagining things.”

wooyoung eyed him suspiciously, but yunho quickly changed the subject. as nerve-wracking as it was, sneaking around felt worth it when he was with you. one day, he’d find a way to make it right. for now, he cherished every stolen moment.

yeo ★ sang

yeosang was meticulous by nature, so sneaking around with seonghwa’s older sibling wasn’t something he took lightly. every moment together was carefully planned, from choosing meeting spots far from prying eyes to ensuring his phone notifications were silent when you messaged him.

one evening, the two of you were huddled in a corner booth of a small, dimly lit café. yeosang had chosen the spot specifically for its privacy. his fingers lightly traced circles on your hand as you sipped your coffee.

“seonghwa was asking about you today,” you said, your voice low.

yeosang froze for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. “what did he say?”

“that i’ve been smiling a lot more lately,” you replied, grinning.

yeosang’s lips twitched upward into a small smile. “you do have a beautiful smile.”

you rolled your eyes playfully, but his compliment made your heart flutter. yeosang’s gaze softened, and he reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“i hate that we have to hide this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “but seonghwa would never let me live it down if he found out.”

you leaned closer, resting your forehead against his. “it’s worth it, though. you’re worth it.”

yeosang smiled, a rare but genuine expression, and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

later, as he returned to the dorm, seonghwa glanced up from his book. “where’ve you been?”

“just out for some air,” yeosang replied smoothly, though his heart raced.

seonghwa didn’t seem convinced but didn’t press further. yeosang exhaled quietly, determined to keep your relationship under wraps a little longer.

san ★

san loved adventure, but sneaking around with hongjoong’s older sibling was a thrill of a different kind. it wasn’t just about the secrecy — it was about the stolen moments that felt like they were yours and yours alone.

one night, san picked you up in his car, driving out to a secluded spot by the beach. the two of you sat on the hood of the car, watching the waves crash against the shore.

“i almost got caught today,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence.

san turned to you, his eyebrows furrowing. “what happened?”

“hongjoong saw me texting you. i had to pretend it was a work thing,” you explained, laughing nervously.

san winced but chuckled. “you’re a terrible liar.”

you swatted his arm, but san caught your hand, intertwining your fingers. “i’ll tell him,” he said, his tone serious. “i just need to figure out the right time.”

you smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder. “i know you will. just… don’t wait too long, okay?”

san nodded, his free hand coming up to brush your hair back. “i won’t. you’re too important to me to keep this a secret forever.”

as the two of you sat there, the sound of the waves filling the silence, san knew he’d never let anyone come between you — not even hongjoong.

min ★ gi

mingi wasn’t exactly subtle, which made sneaking around with wooyoung’s older sibling a challenge. but despite the risk, he couldn’t stay away from you.

one evening, the two of you were sitting in his parked car, sharing takeout and laughing over something ridiculous mingi had said.

“wooyoung would kill us if he found out,” you said, half-joking.

mingi paused mid-bite, then grinned. “probably. but it’s not like he can stop me.”

you laughed, but the nervous edge in your voice didn’t escape him. mingi set his food down and reached for your hand. “hey, don’t worry. i’ll handle it when the time comes.”

“you make it sound so easy,” you muttered, leaning back in your seat.

“it’s not easy,” mingi admitted, his voice softening. “but you’re worth it. every single risk, every sneaky meetup — it’s all worth it.”

your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned over to kiss him.

later, back at the dorm, wooyoung eyed mingi suspiciously as he walked in. “you smell like perfume. who’ve you been with?”

mingi froze for a split second before forcing a laugh. “must’ve been the lady at the takeout counter. she was wearing a lot of it.”

wooyoung didn’t look convinced but didn’t press further. mingi let out a silent sigh of relief, already counting down the hours until he could see you again.

woo ★ young

wooyoung wasn’t one to do things halfway, whether it was performing on stage or sneaking around with seonghwa’s older sibling. the thrill of keeping your relationship a secret only made it more exciting for him, but there were moments when even he felt the weight of it.

one afternoon, the two of you met at a small arcade in a quiet neighborhood. wooyoung had insisted on the location, saying it was “too random for anyone to suspect.”

“come on, just one more game,” he pleaded, holding up a token.

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress your smile. “you just want another chance to win after i crushed you last round.”

“crushed me?” wooyoung gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “it was pure luck!”

as the two of you bantered, he leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “you’re really enjoying this, huh?”

you grinned. “maybe a little.”

wooyoung’s playful expression softened as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “i just love seeing you happy,” he murmured, his tone unusually tender.

before you could respond, your phone buzzed. you glanced at the screen and froze.

“who is it?” wooyoung asked, peering over your shoulder.

“it’s seonghwa,” you said, your voice tight. “he’s asking where i am.”

wooyoung’s eyes widened, and he quickly ushered you out of the arcade. “we need to go. he knows my hangout spots too well.”

as the two of you hurried down the street, wooyoung chuckled nervously. “this sneaking around is going to give me gray hair.”

“then let’s tell him,” you said, stopping in your tracks.

wooyoung hesitated, looking into your eyes. “soon,” he promised, taking your hand in his. “just give me a little more time to figure out how to survive the fallout.”

despite the tension, his sincerity made your heart flutter.

jong ★ ho

jongho was the steady, reliable type, but even he wasn’t immune to the chaos of sneaking around with yunho’s older sibling. his practicality and calm demeanor often clashed with the secrecy, but he couldn’t imagine giving you up.

one evening, the two of you were sitting in a quiet park, sharing a bag of snacks under the dim glow of a streetlamp. jongho’s hand rested casually on your knee as he told you about his day.

“yunho almost caught me texting you earlier,” he said, his voice calm but laced with a hint of amusement.

your eyes widened. “what did he say?”

jongho smirked. “nothing. i told him i was texting a friend, and he bought it.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “you’re so chill about this.”

“i have to be,” he replied, squeezing your knee gently. “if i panic, you’ll panic, and then we’ll both give ourselves away.”

despite his calm exterior, jongho’s gaze softened as he looked at you. “i hate hiding this, though. you mean too much to me to keep you a secret forever.”

you smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder. “then let’s tell him. what’s the worst that could happen?”

jongho chuckled softly. “yunho giving me a lecture for the rest of my life, probably.”

the two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while before jongho spoke again. “i’ll tell him soon,” he said, his voice steady. “i just need to figure out how to do it without ruining everything.”

as the night wore on, jongho walked you back to your car, his hand never leaving yours. despite the secrecy, his quiet confidence and unwavering presence made you feel like everything would be okay.

notes: interesting request! thank you anon, and i hope this was to your liking <3

[crazyforhwa]

Between hard and soft hours tbh but I really can’t stop thinking about a lazy make out session with Seonghwa… with lots of tongue obviously because come on, it’s Seonghwa.

It’d feel so amazing to just have a whole make out session with him, hands on each other’s face or neck.. and maybe an other member (*cough* Choi San) witnessing it and ending up joining the fun……

✩LAZY MAKE OUT SESSIONS WITH SEONGHWA✩

anon, that's so fucking hot.. (seonghwa is just hot yk)

I feel like lazy make out sessions with him usually happen during gloomy or winter days, as he thinks it feels the most romantic that way. He would be the one to initiate them by doing seemingly innocent things that end with him pushing his tongue past your lips in no time.

It would be such a mess, the perfect contrast between lust and love. Just two bodies laying on the bed, some rnb music playing quietly in the background to spice up the mood.

I feel like he's the 'breathy moans' type of guy. Whining into your mouth, describing how much he desires you.. that's what he's into. He isn't afraid of letting out sounds, and he expects you to let out some too, especially when other members are around. It definitely makes him hard as a rock, knowing that his colleagues are listening.

And oh boy.. talking about exhibitionism, I feel like he would purposely leave his door not fully closed, BEGGING in his mind that somebody(ehem, San) would catch you guys in the act. And don't even start on joining. I don't think he would be 100% comfortable with every member, but he would definitely share you with San, Hongjoong or Wooyoung (boy would be already close just by seeing them play with you).

We all have seen that fucking tongue of his. it's long, pointy, and he knows how to use it. he constantly sticks it out during performances, so I imagine him to be an absolute freak. He wins every battle for dominance, even at such slow paced moments.

Spit. SPIT. He loves when your make out sessions are messy, long strings of saliva forming whenever he detaches his plump lips from yours. He would randomly pull away just to stick his tongue out and let his spit slowly drip into your mouth, quickly getting back to business after.

Let's also mention that not every make out session with him is just lips. Oh no no, he is paying attention to everything. Sometimes he lowers himself and plants soft pecks against your neck. Sometimes he gently bites your earlobe, his warm breath tickling your skin. And sometimes he just smothers your whole face with smooches, grinning while he does so. He is a man of passion, but in these moments he just loves to chill out and show you love in a slightly different way.

Oh, and that smirk of his. He would grab different parts of your body unexpectedly, making you let out soft gasps that would trigger his cocky smile. Sometimes it'd be an innocent booty grab, but one second later his hand is slowly sliding under your shirt, his warm fingers exploring your body, getting closer to the sensitive areas on your chest.

After about half an hour, he will lose the ability to think straight. His hand would slide into your pants and quickly find your opening, slowly forcing two fingers into your tight hole. He would hit every sweet spot while still kissing you, getting "annoyed" and spanking you every time you get distracted by the pleasure.

Oh, yes.

I love him, man😭😭😭😭

should I make it a fic? 👀 (I feel like this is way too short, I'm sorry)

[luv-y0urself]

boynextdoor when they have crushes

boynextdoor x fem!reader genre: fluff, slice of life, mayhaps...? | wc: 2026 words | warnings: all sorts of tropes ahead !! all of the boys are the same age as the reader in the fic, although not mentioned :) 𖤐．thank you to the anon who requested this ! i'm so sorry it took this long to get out... i might've gotten a little carried away (psst... i didn't tell you this, but i might be using this as a small teaser for a future series...!)

boy #1: park sungho

to me, sungho genuinely feels like the type to fall for his childhood best friend. it’s the feeling of comfort that he feels with her that suddenly morphs into something more, y’know? he’s having a casual night out, grabbing a quick drink with his friend for successfully ending the semester in one piece when she shows up dressed with her hair done, makeup immaculate, and a dress that fits her curves perfectly and accentuates all the nice things about her. he can’t help but gape at her form once he lays eyes on her, and is dumbfounded for a few seconds before he’s able to murmur a soft compliment in her direction. she merely laughs it off, telling him that he looked rather dashing that night as well. it was common for them to care for each other in that way; they didn’t think of it much when they were complimenting each other… but on that night, at that moment, sungho meant every word. once sungho is able to fully mull over the situation (and fully realizes that he definitely has a crush on her), sungho would go out of his way to care for her. he’s always sending her texts (much more than usual), usually things like “your class starts soon, are you at school yet?” to things like, “don’t skip lunch even if you’re working.” he strikes me as the type to bring lots of sweets to his gal when mother nature decides to pay her a visit, or for him to cook her some of her favorite broth if she’s feeling under the weather. at one point, i feel like she would realize that sungho has changed a little bit; she asks the other friends in her group about it and her friends can’t help but smack their foreheads at how dense sungho’s crush is, then help sungho set something up for him to actually overcome the fear of losing his friend and confess to her.

boy #2: lee riwoo

to be completely honest, i feel like riwoo is the type to fall for a girl that he met at a dance competition. riwoo would be one of the judges, waiting for the last performance to go on stage and dance their hearts out. he’s beyond tired, having gotten at the site more than six hours ago, and having sat in his chair without moving for four of those six. but once she comes onto stage, riwoo would feel the spinning world stop. all he can see is her, dancing her heart out to the choreographed routine that she and her group mates put together for everybody to see. it’s unprofessional, really — riwoo should be watching the performance for all of the rubric points, but all he could focus on was the way that she moved; the way that she waltzed with the song, her arms elongated and her steps light but strong, hitting each beat with undeniable passion that she must’ve practiced with. riwoo isn’t able to do anything the day of, however — that would be even more unprofessional than how distracted he was during the performance. no, the real time he would be able to do something is when he holds a surprise pop up class with a limited number of students able to attend, and she’s one of them. when checking their form, i feel like riwoo’s eyes would subconsciously stay on her form for a little longer compared to the other students, and if she had a question, he answer it to the best of his ability, and then some. riwoo doesn’t strike me as the impulsive type, but with her in the room, i feel like he would change the choreo that he's teaching to a pair dance, choosing her in the room to dance with.

boy #3: myung jaehyun

god, myungjae would be the loudest guy out there once he has a crush. he definitely strikes me as the type of guy to go shouting in the group chat, saying that he just spotted the “goddess” of their school while walking around. he probably also wouldn’t waste any time beating around the bush; the very next time he spots her, he would probably go up to her and say some cheesy pick up line (“so, aside from taking my breath away, what do you do for a living?”) although the girl would definitely be surprised, and maybe even annoyed at his seemingly insincere ways of telling her, myungjae would do everything he can to regain her trust in him (aka. making her fall for him, according to his boasting). whenever he spots her on campus, myungjae makes sure to make himself known. he often waves at her from hundreds of meters away, running to her from wherever he saw her from (and ditching whoever he was with, which, most of the time, is poor woonhak) just to strike a conversation with her. he asks her about all kinds of things, like what she’s doing today, how she’s feeling, if anything happened to her in the past 16 hours which he hasn’t seen her, anything. (once, she replied back that she was going to go meet a long distance guy friend, and myungjae immediately got sooo jealous. he would ask all kinds of things, like what he looks like, how tall he is, whether she’s ever liked him in the past or if she does now, how long she’s known him for, etc. she would definitely tease him for being jealous before leaving in a flash, purposely mentioning that she needs to “get ready” for her hangout with the said guy. myungjae is absolutely distraught, to her delight.) but, if she’s feeling down, he’s there for her always, giving her a shoulder to cry on if needed. he provides lots of advice for her if she opens up to him in that way, glad that he was able to be of help to his one and only.

boy #4: han taesan

boy oh boy, han taesan. definitely the type to fall for the girl working at the lp shop that he’s a regular at. taesan was just walking around the shop, seeing if there were any albums that were recently added that he hadn’t seen the last time he was there. that’s when he spotted her listening to the legendary nirvana album (in his opinion), bleach (1989), and she was humming the melody to “about a girl” when he couldn’t help but be intrigued about her. the lp shop was old; taesan was close with the owner of the shop, since the old man had cared for taesan like his own son. taesan would definitely ask about her the next time he sees the man (which is very soon), surprised when he mentions that she’s working at the shop now; taesan came to the shop almost everyday following that short encounter, often staying at the shop much longer than necessary when she was around (and leaving the shop quickly when he wasn’t able to see her at her usual spot at the counter), trying to get a better look at what she was doing or if she was listening to anything else that he enjoyed listening to, too.  the first time that taesan would actually make a move is when he catches that she’s sick from the rapidly changing weather. he spots her erupting into small coughing fits, which she suppresses quickly with a quick drink from her practically steaming tumbler. the next day taesan walks into the shop, his pockets are a little heavier than usual; he’s carrying with him some cough medicine and tylenol, packaged nicely in a clear bag, perfected with a clean note inside (which he definitely didn’t take 15 minutes to write two lines of). when she’s not at the counter, cleaning something at a different end of the shop, taesan slips over and places the bag of medicine containing the note next to her tumbler so she can’t miss it, smiling a little as he exits the shop.

boy #5: kim leehan

would it be a surprise if leehan falls for the girl working as a docent at the aquarium? she's all he’s been looking for; an expert on fish that shared the same love for marine life that he did. i feel like leehan would meet her coincidentally at his local aquarium; usually he likes to stay home and just look at his own fish tank, but that day, he felt like going out. it had been too long since he left the house, anyway; the last time he’d left was a few days ago, when he went to go find some new fishies for his fish tank (if leehan has his fish tank and his phone, he could probably stay at home for a whole month without leaving it once).  usually, leehan is the type to walk around the aquarium by himself; he already knew a lot about most of the fish there, and if he didn’t know anything, he was the type to stand in front of the description for a while in order to read everything about the new fish. but, something about her voice stroke a chord in him; her voice was different from the other docents that he had walked by, and he saw himself just trailing the crowd that was following her, listening to her words that were flowing out of her like she was telling the story about the fish for the first time. after the entire tour, when she seems to go on break, leehan would call out to her according to her name that she had mentioned at the end of the tour, letting the people know that she was always happy to talk about fish if they ever spotted her around the aquarium another day. he would then proceed to question her about some of the new species that had recently been added to the aquarium tanks, piquing her interest in him as well. i think they would meet a couple more times at the aquarium itself before leehan would ask if she would like to see his own fish tank at his house ;)

boy #6: kim woonhak

woonhak is the epitome of boyish love. there’s no denying it… he just reminds me so much of the type of guys that would endlessly tease and poke fun at you just because he doesn’t know how else to express himself. i think the person that he would do this to would definitely be a somewhat calm person… like a student volunteer at his school’s library!! he would definitely fall for her when he’s checking out his textbooks at the beginning of the year — he’s never stepped into the textbook room prior to this (since this was all a new system that the school implemented) and woonhak just saw her working hard, interacting cordially with the kids she knew and genuinely looking like she was enjoying her job there. her genuineness sparked something deep inside of him, and after that day, i feel like he would visit the library all the time. he’s going to memorize the days and periods that she’s working at the library and get out of class during those days just to go to the library and try to see her. because he visits her so often, i just know that they would start to talk and that would just make woonhak fall even more for her — she’s such a passionate individual, always working hard for what she wants to achieve in the future. whenever she talks about her ambitions, woonhak just can’t help but be mesmerized about everything around her; her pretty, sparkling eyes, the soft breeze from the window that tickles her hair, being able to easily tune out the bustling of the students around them as if they were alone, and her voice, making him truly wonder if she was born under the extensive care of angels. at one point, though, i feel like she would ask him why he always visits her but never actually looks at any of the books or the library in general. woonhak’s ears would burn a bright shade of red before he clears his throat, finally asking her out on a date (“actually, speaking of which… do you want to, uh, go out this weekend?”)

reblogs + feedback are greatly appreciated ! © luv-y0urself / 2024

[prolifeproliberty]

Hey, I'm stumped on this objection, if it's alright, I want your input on this

"For these types of people I always give them a hypothetical situation for them answer So if you knew your wife was going to die by giving birth to the child would you let Your wife get an abortion or would you let your wife die in the child grow up without a mother?"

What do you think?

I would answer that the choice is never actually that simple. We imagine this cinematic moment where the doctor comes out to talk to the anxious husband in the waiting room and says “Sir, we can only save one of them. Should we save your wife or your child?” and he has to make that choice.

That makes a very dramatic movie scene, but it’s not real.

There are three categories of “life of the mother” situations:

1. Very early pregnancy. Mother has a life threatening condition and cannot be kept stable until the child reaches viability (now around 22 weeks with evidence-based best practices). Even in these situations, a direct abortion isn’t the life-saving care. Usually we’re talking about the mother needing a treatment for her life-threatening condition that risks the life of the baby. Most ethical choice is to treat the mother. If the baby dies as a result of the treatment, that is a tragic loss. If the baby doesn’t die, awesome! In this category, there is no way to save the baby without saving the mother, because if the mother died, the baby would too. Ectopic pregnancies fall in this category because there is currently no way to save the baby. If we developed the ability to get ectopic embryos to successfully re-implant in the uterus, that would become the ethical option.

2. Late-term complications. I’m going out of order here for a reason. This is anything where the mother’s life-threatening health issue starts after viability, but especially when we’re talking 30 weeks and on. Baby’s chance of survival with an early delivery goes up rapidly as baby approaches full term. In these cases, if the mother needs immediate treatment for a life threatening issue, she doesn’t actually need her baby to die. There is no reason to choose between the mother and child. A C-section is actually safer than a late-term abortion, since third trimester abortions usually still involve the mother laboring and delivering a dead baby. If the concern, as posed in the original hypothetical, is that she would “die by giving birth,” then she probably just needs a C-section (or a better doctor).

3. The third category is the most complex one. This is when the life threatening issue for the other begins when the child cannot yet survive outside the womb, but may be able to in a few weeks. This is where the difficult decisions are made. This category includes women diagnosed with cancer who might decide to delay treatment to protect their child until their child can be safely delivered. However, even here we can see examples of mothers who choose to receive treatment without first killing their child, and doctors who find innovative ways to treat life-threatening illnesses without harming preborn children.

The true answer is “save them both.” We can’t always - just as any doctor knows in a triage situation they can’t always save all the patients. The decision of who to save is never based on which patient is more human, more valuable, or more worth saving. The answer is instead based on how the doctor can save the greatest number of patients. If the doctor can save everyone, they do. If the doctor knows a course of action means for sure saving one patient, while another might not make it, but the alternative is losing both, then they will choose to save at least one. We almost never see a situation where the doctor has to arbitrarily choose between two patients - the decision is always based on the condition of each patient, the resources available, how much time there is, etc. There are algorithms for this kind of thing.

Basically I refuse to let unrealistic hypotheticals dictate actual policy on saving children.

Because people believe in the “we can only save one, choose!” scenario, we get doctors telling women that they will die if they don’t get an abortion, and then they cry to the media that they had to go to Colorado or California to get their “life-saving procedure.” The reality is that either the doctor could have treated the mother without first killing the baby and given the baby a chance to survive, or they could have delivered the baby and then treated the mother.

Anyone who says they couldn’t do the first option under ____ state abortion law is either lying or ignorant. If the mother’s condition is actually life-threatening, every state allows doctors to treat the mother. Killing a child doesn’t cure any illness.

[bohemianrapshawty]

Missed Signals

Dr. Robby had always prided himself on his ability to read people. In the fast-paced world of the ER, it was a skill that had come in handy more times than he could count. But when it came to you, his abilities seemed to fail him completely.

From the moment you started working alongside him, Robby was hooked. It wasn’t just your professionalism or your skill—it was the way you moved with a quiet confidence, how you greeted every patient with warmth, and how you never seemed to lose your calm amidst the chaos. It was your smile, your laugh, the little way you always seemed to hum under your breath when things got really busy.

Robby couldn’t help himself. He’d catch himself watching you, making excuses to be near you, dropping by the nurses’ station just to hear your voice or to see you fidget with the small gold cross around your neck—a gesture you didn’t even seem to notice you did.

And so, like any lovesick fool, he tried to drop subtle hints. So subtle, in fact, that even *he* was surprised at how much he’d been able to hide his feelings behind a cool, professional exterior.

"Hey, Y/N. I’m thinking of checking out that new Italian place down the street. You like pasta, right?" Robby said one day, leaning against the counter casually, hoping for a spark of interest. "It’d be nice to get away from here, you know, after a crazy shift."

You glanced up from the patient chart you were filling out, your eyes bright with the usual warmth. "Oh, I love pasta! But I think tonight’s a little too hectic for me. Maybe next time."

Maybe next time. Robby couldn’t help but smile a little, even though the small sting of disappointment lingered in his chest. He didn’t give up, though. He wasn’t the type to take rejection, or in this case, polite disinterest, lying down.

The next day, he decided to try again. This time, he saw you walking out of the break room with your coffee cup in hand, your usual focus on the next task at hand. Robby leaned against the doorframe, pretending to adjust his coat, giving you his best nonchalant grin.

"So, I was thinking," he said, his voice light and playful, "We’ve got a couple hours off coming up… What do you say we hit that new coffee shop down the street? I’ve heard they make the best espresso in the city."

You paused, your eyes brightening for a moment, and Robby’s heart skipped a beat. He thought for sure this time you were going to say yes. You chewed your lip for a second before responding, and Robby’s hopes soared.

"Sounds amazing," you said with a smile that sent warmth rushing through him. "But, I’m actually on call tonight. So, I’ll probably be tied up here again." You tilted your head apologetically. "Maybe another time?"

There it was again. *Maybe another time*. But Robby couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips, and you noticed. You always noticed everything.

“Hey, Robby,” you said softly, stepping closer with a warm smile that made his heart ache. “You know, I think you're the only one who doesn’t give up on me when I turn down all these invitations.” Your eyes sparkled with amusement, and Robby found himself blushing under your gaze.

He chuckled, trying to cover up his growing nerves with humor. “Well, I’m persistent. And besides, I figure you’ve got to be busy, but eventually, we’ll find a time. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” His voice took on a teasing tone. “Unless you want me to stop offering.”

You shook your head, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “No, don’t stop offering. I’m just… always working.” Then, in a quieter voice, almost as if you were letting him in on a secret, you added, “I don’t really have time for anything else these days.”

The way you said it made Robby pause. There was something almost wistful in your voice, as though you weren’t just talking about work, but about life in general. And Robby—who had spent the better part of the last few months noticing every little detail about you—wondered if maybe, just maybe, you were feeling the same way he was.

That evening, Robby had another idea. If he couldn’t get you to go out for a meal or coffee, maybe he could do something else that would be a little more subtle, yet just as meaningful.

He found you in the hallway later that night, a stack of patient files in your arms. You were walking quickly, head down, and Robby couldn’t help but notice the way you rubbed your thumb over the little gold cross around your neck—something you did whenever you were stressed, something Robby had quietly observed on countless occasions.

He stepped up beside you, a casual smile on his face. “You’re going to wear yourself out, you know that?”

You glanced up, startled for a moment, before relaxing when you saw it was him. “I’m fine. Just a long shift.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Robby said, his tone gentle. “But you’ve been going nonstop for hours. Maybe you should take a break before you burn out. How about we go get that coffee? You’ve got to be running on empty.”

You blinked, your expression softening for a second. “I… I could use a little break, actually. And I guess I’m always saying no to you. It wouldn’t hurt to take you up on it this time.”

Robby’s heart leaped in his chest. He couldn’t believe it. This was *finally* happening.

“I’ll let you pick the place,” you said with a grin. “But only if you promise to stop offering every time. You might give me a complex.”

Robby laughed, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief. “Deal. I’ll even let you choose what we order.”

Later that night, you and Robby found yourselves at the little coffee shop down the street. It was quieter than the hospital, the dim lighting casting a calm glow around the cozy tables. Robby smiled across from you, watching you laugh and relax in a way he’d never seen before. There was something so natural about being with you outside the hospital walls, and as he listened to you talk about everything—your favorite books, your love for traveling, the things you dreamed of doing someday—he realized he’d been waiting for this moment longer than he had admitted.

You took a sip of your drink and leaned back in your chair, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “You know, Robby, I don’t think I’ve ever really taken the time to get to know anyone like this. Life’s just been… too busy.”

Robby couldn’t resist. He leaned forward slightly, his voice low but sincere. “Well, I’m glad you’re taking the time now. I’ve been pretty smitten with you for a while. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and for a brief moment, Robby thought maybe he had pushed too far. But then, you smiled—genuinely, warmly—and his heart stuttered.

“Robby,” you said softly, “I’ve been noticing you too. I guess I was just waiting for the right moment.”

And just like that, all the subtle hints, all the missed signals between you two, faded away into nothing. It was no longer about trying to get the other person to see what was there. It was about finally realizing what had always been in front of you both.

“Guess it’s a good thing we didn’t give up on each other, huh?” Robby said with a grin, feeling lighter than he had in months.

You smiled, your eyes sparkling. “Guess so.”

And from that moment on, it wasn’t about hints or missed opportunities anymore. It was just you and him, finally seeing each other the way you were always meant to.

[once-in-a-blood-moon]

do you think solomon would be able to survive a week of not being allowed to call mc adorable? no or no

NO. Big no, lol.

Although this does lead me to wonder why he'd need to stop calling MC his adorable apprentice for a week. Like does the rest of the cast make a bet with him to see if he's capable of going a week without the petname or does Purgatory Hall have an intervention about his excessive use of it?

--

"And then, listen to this! My adorable apprentice used the spell I taught them to whisk the demon away like it was nothing. You should've seen it," Solomon gushes while everyone around him seems to groan and roll their eyes.

"There he goes again with the "my adorable apprentice" thing," Asmo sighs.

Mammon pipes up next. "Yeah! And it's gettin' pretty damn annoyin' too!"

"They're not just your apprentice, Solomon," Satan scolds.

Solomon can't help but chuckle at the stink everyone seems to be making. "What, I can't be thrilled by how MC is exceeding under my supervision?"

"No, you can," Simeon starts, "it's just...you refer to them as your "adorable apprentice" a lot."

"A lot, a lot." Luke adds.

Solomon sits there in silence, soaking up what his roommates are saying. He hadn't realized how often he called MC that, though now that he thinks about it, he can't deny it. When he speaks about them he can't help but be proud.

Belphie then brings up a point mid-yawn. "I bet he couldn't go a week without saying it."

"I second that bet!" Mammon interjects with dollar signs reflected in his eyes.

Lucifer sighs next to him not wanting to entertain this more then he should, but he had to admit that this was probably a bet Mammon could win. "I have to agree with Mammon. You do say it an annoyingly often."

"Ah, so we're betting on this, are we?" Solomon grins, not passing up the opportunity to prove himself while having a little fun. "Fine. I bet that I can go a week without calling MC my "adorable apprentice"." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the Devildom equivalent of twenty dollars and throws it on the table.

"You're on!" Mammon exclaims.

"I believe in you, Solomon!" Luke cheers.

Everyone else follows suit, pooling their money in the middle while declaring their bets. Lucifer, Mammon, Satan, Belphie, and Barbatos all betting he'll lose. Leviathan, Asmo, Beel, Diavolo, Simeon, Luke, and himself betting he'll win.

And so the games begin.

Through the week, he does find it difficult to hold back from using the petname. There are several instances when talking about them almost slips him up, though he's always able to catch himself before saying it. It was a term so used to sitting on the tip of his tongue that it was hard to let go. Everyone goes around to check in with each other and him to make sure he hadn't lost the bet yet. All of them stay surprised at his determination to get through the week, but remain skeptical in his ability to actually see the week through. MC, while oblivious to the bet, has even caught on to the absence of Solomon's petname praise.

It's Thursday during their after school lesson with him when it happens. He'd been quizzing them on the different types of magic and they had correctly named each one. They were even able to identify their own and his without extra prompting. Solomon was so caught up in his pride and love for them that he said it without thinking.

"Fantastic! Just what I'd expect from my adorable appren-" he trails off, his eyes widening as his heart sinks.

He just lost the bet.

MC stares at him, worried as to why he cut himself off like that. "Um...are you okay?"

Solomon stands there silently in defeat before replying solemnly, "I need to go make some phone calls..."

--

"Solomon! Just the sorcerer we wanted to see." Simeon greets once Solomon enters the common room after receiving a text from the group chat calling for an emergency meeting.

Solomon glances around to see Simeon, Luke, and Raphael dotting the room in the sofa and chairs. The odd thing is that they all seem relatively calm. Simeon pats the cushion next to him on the couch with a smile, and Solomon immediately obliges and sits down.

"So, what's the emergency?" he asks.

"Oh, this isn't an emergency," Luke says while swinging his legs. Simeon finishes for him, "it's an intervention."

A brow cocks on Solomon's forehead. "An intervention? Is this about me spending too much time in my room again?"

Simeon chuckles. "No. Although we may need to talk about that sometime soon."

"It's about MC." Raphael says, cutting to the chase.

"MC? Are they alright?" Solomon glances quickly between his friends as worry gnaws at his heart.

"MC's fine! It's about you and your obsession with calling them your "adorable apprentice"." Luke explains.

Solomon pauses, almost tempted to laugh at such an asinine reason to call for an intervention. But he sees the seriousness in everyone's eyes and realizes this is actually happening. "Is this a joke or..."

Raphael shakes his head. "I'm afraid not. You use the term so much that we thought maybe it was time to talk to you about it."

"I don't use it that often," Solomon says, slightly offended by the notion. "I praise them accordingly."

"And accordingly would be...all the time?" Simeon asks with a knowing grin.

"Well, I..."

Simeon got him. Okay, so maybe he had a problem, but it's not like it's a big deal. "Why wouldn't I want to praise them for their hard work as my student? I'm sure you all would do the same."

"Maybe so," starts Raphael, "but there's a difference between being proud and being obsessed."

"Yeah, we're just concerned about you, Solomon," Luke adds.

He sees the worry in the little angel's face and sighs, having no choice but to endure this "talk."

"This is barbaric. A man can't even gush over his apprentice anymore..."

The whole of Purgatory Hall laughs at Solomon's pouty joke before continuing with their intervention.

"They say it takes a month to break a bad habit. From this point forward, when you're speaking about them just assume everyone knows MC is your adorable apprentice," Simeon suggests. "You can praise when praise is due, but you don't need to overdo it."

"Fine, I'll give it a try." Solomon mutters, not happy with the compromise. Deep down he knows he'll be lucky if he lasts a week.