#(no really if you know of a better exchange between these two pls share it with me b/c i want to see it)

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

It Couple || Young!Coriolanus Snow x Capitol!reader

GIF by @youremyvioleta and divider by @firefly-graphics

Summary: just you and Coryo being the it couple at the academy 🤭

Warnings: fem!reader, idk if there’s anything else

Wc: 691

A/n: pls send thru fic requests for Tom!!!!

In the bustling halls of the Academy, you, the epitome of popularity, gracefully navigate the sea of admiring glances. You weren't particularly sure what factor of you made you so popular, maybe it was your kindness, looks, money, name? Whatever the reason may be you liked to bask in it, not in the cocky manner.

Your perfectly coordinated and confident demeanor were enough to turn any mundane day into a spectacle worth watching. Coriolanus Snow, the charming heartthrob of the academy, with his disheveled yet effortlessly handsome appearance, awaited you by your locker.

As he caught sight of you, a charming smile graced his lips, and he fell into step beside you. "Good morning, my love," Coryo said, his voice a velvet murmur that sent shivers down your spine. "Good morning, Coryo," your replied with a playful smirk, your eyes meeting his as you exchange a knowing look.

The chemistry between you was undeniable, and it added an extra layer of glamour to the 'it couple' status you both held. The title for it really came from a joke by Clemmie at the cafeteria as fellow students from younger years would shamelessly stare at you and Coryo doing such simple things, which in that case, was simply walking to your table.

From that day forward, the title flourished and spread around the academy. Instead of referring to you and Coryo in the context of you being together, they referred the two of you as the 'it couple'. It was quite undisputed, turning heads and sparking envy among your peers.

As you and Coriolanus walk side by side through the halls of the academy, whispers of admiration trail in your wake. Your relationship with Snow was the talk of the academy, maybe even the Capitol due to your high statuses. The two of you becoming a symbol of perfection, setting the standard for others to emulate.

"Snow and Y/l/n, they're practically royalty around here,' a hushed voice echoed from a cluster of students, "I wish I could be in their group for projects, It's like a ticket to instant success,' another voice chimed in.

Meanwhile, Coriolanus slid his arm around you waist, pulling you in a little closer with a smirk on his lips. "Do you see the way everyone's looking at us," he remarked, his eyes glinting with a mixture of pride and mischief.

It was undeniable that Coryo loved the attention. Even before the two of you started dating he would get attention, but now, it was different. "You just love the attention, don't you?" You teased, leaning into his touch.

He chuckled, a low, melodic sound that resonated through the hallway. "Guilty as charged. But it's even better when I get to share it with you, dove." Coryo purrs, his grip on your waist tightening as you giggle.

~

The day unfolded with the usual whirlwind of the classes, but it was during the partnered projects that your unity truly shone. In the lab, you and Coriolanus blended intellect and charm seamlessly, leaving your classmates in awe.

"How do they nail it every time," Io Jasper sighs making those around her chuckle, as they agree after seeing the elaborate model you and Coriolanus crafted. Coriolanus, known for his silver-tongued wit, had a way of making even the most tedious assignments feel like a delightful escapade.

~

Most, if not, all of the Academy's social events became your stage without you giving it much thought, and you and Coriolanus were the headline act. A grand ball celebrating the academy's founding anniversary was the the definition of lavish.

Dressed in a gorgeous dress that rivaled the stars, you walk into Heavensbee hall, your arm linked with Coriolanus. People around the entrance elicit gasps as the spotlight found the two of you.

Arachne rolls her eyes, observing the two of you with a group of friends. "How do they manage to look flawless all the time?" she comments, shaking her head. "It's nauseating." She finishes, tilting her head back to savor a sip of posca. Clemensia chuckles softly, "Well, there's a reason they're known as the 'it couple,'" she says, shrugging casually.

[pucksandpower]

if requests are open, can I pls request baby vettel telling her brothers (the grid kids) she has a "boyfriend" when she comes home from kindergarten one day ??? if requests are closed, please ignore 💗 love your works so much !!

Grid Kids: Cooties

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: the grid kids take being big brothers very seriously

Series Masterlist

“No.”

Max’s voice is firm, his face aghast.

Charles, sitting next to him, nods in agreement. “I thought we agreed that you’re not allowed to date until you’re 40?”

Your daughter looks up from her crayon artwork, her little brows furrowing. “But Tommy said we’re boy ... boyfr …”

Lance interrupts, “Boyfriend and girlfriend? No, no, no. Absolutely not.”

George chimes in, holding up a toy car, “Tell whoever this Tommy is that you’re too busy racing to have a boyfriend.”

Lando adds, “Besides, boyfriends mean cooties. Do you want cooties?”

She tilts her head, pondering the dire consequences of these so-called cooties.

Charles, trying to be the voice of reason, kneels down to her level. “Sweetie, you’re a smart, wonderful little girl. And Tommy is, well ... you can do better.”

Mick, watching the entire exchange, laughs. “Guys, she’s just a kid. They’re probably just sharing crayons.”

Lando looks scandalized, “Crayons today, hearts tomorrow. It’s a slippery slope!”

Sebastian, watching the overprotective madness unfold, turns to you with a smirk, “I think our daughter has a solid set of bodyguards.”

You laugh, wrapping an arm around him. “Good luck to any actual future boyfriends.”

Your daughter simply shrugs, scribbles something on a piece of paper, and hands it to Charles. “For Tommy.”

Charles reads aloud, “We can be friends. But no cooties. Okay?”

***

The next day after school, Max bends down to your daughter’s eye level, “Now, which one is Tommy?”

She points a tiny finger to a little boy playing with a toy car on the playground. He has sandy hair and an innocent expression as he makes car noises.

Lando claps his hands together, “Alright, mates, game faces.”

George rolls his eyes but can’t help his grin, “Really? We’re really doing this?”

Lance nudges him, “We have to ensure he’s good enough for our sister!”

As the grid kids approach Tommy, he looks up, wide-eyed at the small army of grown-ups marching towards him.

Charles squats down, “Hey there, buddy. You Tommy?”

Tommy nods slowly, clutching his toy car.

George, leaning down too, tries to sound stern, “We heard you’re, uh, dating our sister.”

Lando, animatedly acting out air quotes around the word dating, adds, “We just wanted to have a quick chat.”

Mick, clearly finding the whole situation hilarious, jumps in, “You know, about intentions and all.”

Tommy blinks, “Inten-what?”

Max clears his throat, “Look, Tommy, we just want to make sure you’re treating our sister right. No stealing her toys or snacks.”

Lando jumps in again, “And absolutely no cooties. We had a long talk about that.”

Tommy nods fervently, “I don’t have cooties!”

Charles chuckles, “Good to know. So, you’ll play nice with her?”

Tommy nods again, “I promise. I just wanted to show her my new car.” He holds up the toy proudly.

George pats him on the head awkwardly, “Alright, Tommy. Just remember, we’re watching you.”

***

“Operation Sneaky Sneak is a go. Over,” Lando whispers dramatically into his walkie-talkie from his hiding spot behind a bush.

“Copy that,” George responds, trying to peer into Tommy’s living room window from a tree branch, “They’re ... playing with dolls? Oh, and there are some cookies. Over.”

Lance, hidden behind a garden gnome, chimes in, “I hope they're chocolate chip. Over.”

Charles, from his spot on top of a garden shed, adds, “No visual on any suspicious activities. Just some Barbies about to get the worst haircut of their life. Over.”

Mick, wedged between two trash cans, mutters, “Feels like we’re in a bad spy movie.”

Max, crouching behind a car, counters, “Feels? We ARE in a bad spy movie.”

Suddenly, the back door to Tommy’s house swings open and out step his parents, chatting and laughing. The grid kids freeze.

George, panicking, whispers into the walkie-talkie, “Abort mission! I repeat, abort!”

Lance tries to slink away, “Going dark! Going dark! We have been compromised.”

But it’s too late. Tommy’s mother spots them. “Um, gentlemen? What are you doing?”

Charles attempts to play it cool, “Oh, you know, just ... birdwatching. Beautiful sparrows around here.”

Tommy’s father suppresses a grin, “In our backyard? With walkie-talkies?”

Lando, thinking on his feet, responds, “Modern birdwatching. Very high tech. Over.”

Mick gives him a look, “Did you seriously just say over out loud?”

Max tries to salvage the situation, “We just wanted to ensure the playdate went ... smoothly.”

Tommy’s parents burst into laughter. “You guys really care about her, huh?”

Before anyone can respond, there’s a rustling from above. Thunk! “Ow!” Thwack! “Not the face!” Crash! “My hair!”

Everyone’s attention is immediately drawn to George who has dramatically fallen out of the tree, hitting almost every branch on the way down.

Rubbing his back, George groans from where he’s splayed on the ground, “Guess I should leave the climbing to the kids.”

Tommy’s mother takes pity on the fully grown children masquerading as adults in front of her, “Would any of you like to come in for juice boxes?”

The grid kids exchange sheepish glances. “Yes, please,” they reply in unison.

[miniy00ng1]

Not Yours pt.2

Five Hargreeves x Female!Reader

wc: 2239 (not proofread yet!)

warnings: swearing, fighting, lmk if i missed anything

find part one here my masterlist here

Hi lovelies! While writing I realized that this was going to be more than two parts like i had originally thought it would be. but regardless i hope you enjoy and don't forget to give me feedback! pls ignore and grammar errors! thank you <3

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

“Welcome mi familia to my home away from home. My dearest Hotel Obsidian.” Klaus introduces, arms spread wide and breathing in the musty glory of the hotel. “Oh how I’ve missed her. Lookie who’s here! Mon frère Chet! How are you? We need your finest rooms good sir!” Chet places a sign on the table cash up front. The group of super siblings empty their pockets managing to gather enough for two rooms. 

“So what’s our next move you guys? Because the Sparrows can attack at any given moment. I know I would.” Diego asks, anxious to kick some more ass. Luther turns towards Diego, placing his hands on his shoulders, “Diego, just relax man. They’re not coming, they’re going to need a couple of days to recover with the way we left them.” “You really think so?” Diego asks hopefully, at this moment you peek around Luther’s body into Diego’s view and shake you head, sliding you thumb slowly across your neck. Five notices you trying to rile Diego up and drags you to the elevator.

“First, I get kidnapped. And now I have to bunk in the boys room. Just kill me now.” Y/N complains as she is forced into the room being shared between four men. “You can complain all you want Y/N, but I have to keep an eye on you, so deal with it.” Five huffs taking a seat on the lower bunk bed. You roll your eyes, “There are only four beds in here dipshit and five of us. Where the hell am I supposed to sleep?” Five smirks at you, putting his hands behind his head and fully reclining on the bed as you make a gagging sound.

The other three brothers enter the room shortly after and begin to discuss how there are now other versions of themselves out in the world. Your curiosity gets the best of you, “What was you guys’ version of me like? Everyone seems to like her so much better, she couldn’t have been that great.” The men all speak at once listing all of the good qualities other you had such as her kindness, or her mindfulness, or her hopefulness. You jokingly smile extra big and say, “Doesn’t she just sound like a ray of sunshine.” The rest of the night is uneventful as everyone is exhausted from the events that occurred earlier. 

That night, you end up taking the bottom bunk and Five sleeps on the floor next to it. The morning sun shines directly into eyes, disturbing your slumber. As you wake up and try to adjust your eyes, you feel a pressure on your hand. Lifting your head from the pillow, you glance over the edge of the bed and see a slumbering Five holding your hand–warmth spreads across your face. You quickly snatch your hand out of his grip, startling Five awake, he immediately scans the room for any threats. Five furrows his eyebrows once he makes eyes contact with you. No words are exchanged between the two of you as you get out of the bed and head towards the bathroom down the hall.

While freshening up in the bathroom, Y/N takes note of everyone in the restroom. There’s an elderly lady, a woman in her late 40s that looks like she’s done every drug on planet earth–twice, and a tan woman with a young boy standing behind her. The woman stares at you as if you’re familiar with one another. “What the hell are you looking at lady?” You says while drying your hands. The woman laughs in disbelief, “No fucking way.” You raise your eyebrows at the lady and exit the communal bathroom, startled to find Five dressed in a suit and waiting for you. “This entire hotel is full of freaks.”

The two of you take a seat at the table joining Klaus and Diego. The table covered in boxes of Chinese takeout, Five hands you a container and chopsticks, “Eat up, you must be starving.” You nod your head as a thank you and dig into the noodles. The siblings discuss their next course of action, if they have to fight the Sparrows to get the briefcase back or stay in the timeline. Across from you, something has caught Diego’s eye as he abruptly drops his food and rushes away from the table. You turn your body to see where he’s run off to and see Diego chasing the woman from the bathroom.

Diego returns to his seat five minutes later wih a young boy who claims to be his son. Not a single one of the Hargreeves at the table question the legitimacy of the relation. “So if you’re his dad..Is that blonde lady his mom?” You question, not seeing the resemblance at all. Diego nods in confirmation, “She claims he’s my son and that lady, is Lila. You two have met, she tried to murder us like two days ago.” “Two things Buddy. One, I am not your Y/N. And two, you’re an idiot. No wonder she tried to kill you.” You say, piecing the missing information together.

A short haired Vanya approaches the siblings. “Wow Vanya! I am loving the haircut! It really suits you!” Klaus calls out, admiring the new style. “Oh, it’s actually Viktor.” Viktor says awkwardly. The brothers glance at each other before Diego speaks up, “Who is?” “I am, always have been.” Viktor confirms. “Does anybody have a problem with that?” Everyone at the table shakes their head no and congratulates Viktor. “Look, I met with Marcus last night he agreed to give us the briefcase in exchange for Y/N. He says he doesn’t want to start a war.” You sit up straight at the mention of the trade.

Five’s face hardens at Viktor’s statement, “Absolutely not Viktor. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but this timeline in perfectly acceptable, there are no apocalypses or psychopaths coming after us. And last time I checked, you don’t speak for this family. There won’t be any unnecessary trades. Especially not if they include Y/N.” “You’re wrong Five. We don’t belong here. Allison is miserable, her own daughter doesn’t exist and you’re holding Y/N hostage just because she looks like your Y/N!” Viktor argues back. Five seethes in Viktor’s face, “I said no.” Five drags you off the chair forcing you to follow him. You hear footsteps chase after the two of you, “Five! Five wait up!” Five stops, still holding onto your wrist as Klaus catches up. “You two sure move quick for such little legs. Anywho…how would you two like to join me on a little roadtrip? We can relax and cruise the open road, it’ll be a grand ole time!” Five agrees to go with Klaus against your wishes.

Leaning against the car, you scan Five’s figure, “Like what you see?” Five says cockily, smiling at you. “That is the ugliest outfit I have ever seen. Genuinely, you should burn that for the sake of everyone else. And take that stupid hat off, you’re embarassing me. What did I ever see in you.” Five’s smile drops but before he can make a rebuttal Klaus skips over towards the car, “Let’s go bitches! This is going to be so much fun!” It was not fun by any means. Thirty minutes into the drive, Klaus and Five start arguing due to the fact that Klaus tricked Five into coming to meet his birth mother because he was scared to do it alone. 

“You were scared? So you brought me along like an emotional support schnauzer?” “I would say you’re more like a little cute, feisty chihuahua.” You say mindlessly. Five turns and glares at you, you’re certain he’s picturing murdering you in his mind. The fighting goes on for a little longer before the boys make up at the big ball of twine. Soon enough, you guys arrive at a farm where Klaus’ mother is supposedly living. Five tells Klaus that this is something he has to face alone and that he’ll stay with the car. 

Five moves the car to the side of the road and turns on a radio station playing songs from the 60s. He then exits the car just to open the rear door, “Scoot over, I want to stretch out my legs and do my crossword.” “You are such an old man. I don’t know how I could be into that.” You say while scooting over to make room for the teen. Five slides in next to you ensuring that his body is facing yours, “I’ll have you know that I have a lot of redeeming qualities that you loved. Not to mention, I’m a sweet talker Darling.” Five brushes his hand against your cheek, holding eye contact with you. Five’s green eyes are intense as you stare back noting the specks of blue in them. “I know, it’s hard to look away from them right?” Five winks at you finally breaking eye contact and sitting back, attention back on his newspaper. You blink rapidly trying to process what had occurred between the two of you.

Suddenly, a pulse rushes through the car shaking it as it passes. Five immediately sits up, hand gripping yours as he scans the area for signs of danger. You two exit the car, still holding hands. “Five? Where’d the cows go?” You question pointing towards the previously filled farmland which was now completely vacant. “Damnit can’t I get just one day off?” Five sighs throwing his hands in the air. The teenage boy gets to working on equations trying to figure out what he and his siblings fucked up now. In the distance, you hear a faint yell. A few seconds later comes Klaus with an angry Amish mob chasing after him, “Start the car! We’ve got to go now!” The three of you clamber into the car and speed off.

Klaus tells Five his findings and experience with the Amish and how his mother died before he was born. Five stomps on the breaks, causing you to fly forward, “We are so fucked. We’ve created the Grandfather Paradox.”

Once back at Hotel Obsidian Five takes you with him to find Lila. Her son, Stanley, tells you that she’s in the women’s restroom. Five is about to enter before you stop him, “Hey perv, this is the ladies room. Let me go.” You spot Lila in the bath and wave at her, “Y/N! Long time no see. Well actually, I guess you’ve never met me before but…I know you. And I can’t stand you just as much as I hate your husband.” Lila throws a knife in your direction and you are about to move out of the way when you feel a rush of air as you are blinked across the room.

You pull out of Five’s grip, “I can handle myself Five. And he is not my husband!” Lila approaches the two of you fully nude, “If you lovebirds are done with your couples quarrel. I’d love to get this over with.” Five and Lila fight and blink around the bathroom–you never knew two people could have the same powers. Lila manages to knock Five off of his feet, she then blinks to you and punches. You duck down, narrowly avoiding her fist. You sweep your leg at her feet aiming to knock her down. Lila lands on her back and you use your powers to transform into Luther in order to have an advantage, size and strength-wise. You swing your arms up in the air readying to pummel the woman into the ground. Lila mimics your power also transforming into Luther–your eyes widen as you realize what her powers are. Lila pulls her legs to her stomach before kicking them out, launching her legs into your stomach. You fly back, groaning as you land on a sink and breaking it off the wall. Curse Luther and his stupidly big monkey body.

Five has recovered and catches Lila off guard by slamming his body into hers. While distracted he squirts her in the face with soap, “Okay! Fuck! That’s enough!” Lila calls out, wiping the soap out of her stinging eyes. Five blinks over to you as Luther, “Y/N? Are you okay?” You transform back into your teenage self, accepting Five’s outstretched hand, “Never been better.” After making sure you were okay, Five grabs the briefcases from Lila’s possession. They were of course broken and the two decided that they would use their powers to travel to the Commision.

“We can’t bring her, we barely have enough power to bring ourselves.” Lila states motioning towards you. Five looks at you trying to figure out where to put you for the time being. Five walks you to his brother Diego, “I need you to watch her. I’ve got things to do and she can’t come with.” “What the hell? No! I’ve already got one little shit to take care of. I don’t need another.” You scoff at the conversation between the men, “I can hear you guys, you know?” They both ignore you. “Just make them watch each other, I don’t know. Figure it out, I’ve got to go.” Five walks off quickly with his hands in his pocket. Diego looks at you and rubs his face, “Stanley! Get your ass over here and come meet your Auntie!”

part three

taglist:

@ohmyitsfaith

[landoscar-f1]

Too Sweet for Me - Chp 01

taglist (strikethrough could not be tagged): @alessiali @piastri-my-boy @adreamerinadream @landosgirl please fill this form if you wish to be added!

pairing: CS55 x fem!reader, eventual!OP81 x fem!reader genre: fluff, angst, slow burn, smut chapter warnings: relationship anxiety, distrust, hints of carlos possibly cheating (pls lmk if i missed anything!) ch 01 wc: ~580

teaser | masterlist | next

Read the chapter under the cut

Carlos was the embodiment of a BookTok boyfriend, at least in the years of your friendship and the first few years of your relationship.

But things started to go downhill about… two years ago.

“Carlos, do you want to go out with Lily and i? Alex is going too,” you yelled to the man sitting on the couch, engrossed in his phone.

“No, hermosa, you go. I’ll stay home for some sim work,” he yelled back at you.

“You’ve been doing sim work all week, love. Take a break, the season’s already ended. Fred should give you a bit of a break now, shouldn’t he?” you asked, coming out of your shared bedroom.

“I know, amor, but the break doesn’t mean I’m free from work. They need to get some sim data for the car next season.” Carlos had walked over without you noticing, and you jumped a bit when he kissed your neck. “You should go, take a break from your work and have fun with Lily and Alex.”

You forced a smile and nodded. “Alright, if you insist. But you owe me a night out, okay?”

“Of course, I do,” he said, his eyes briefly flickering with something you couldn’t quite place.

As you got ready, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. It wasn’t the first time Carlos had opted out of plans. In fact, it had become a pattern. You glanced at your reflection, trying to push the doubts away. Maybe he really was just busy.

Later that evening, at the bar with Lily and Alex, you found it hard to stay present. Your mind kept wandering back to Carlos, alone at home. Or was he?

“Hey, you okay?” Lily’s voice broke through your thoughts.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” you replied, forcing a laugh. “Just tired, I guess.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Carlos working late again?”

You sighed. “Yeah, he’s been buried in sim work for weeks.”

Lily exchanged a glance with Alex. “You deserve a break too, you know. Maybe a weekend getaway? Just the two of you?”

“Maybe,” you said, though you weren’t sure if a getaway would fix what was starting to feel like a growing distance between you and Carlos.

When you got home, the apartment was dark except for the glow of Carlos’s laptop. He was asleep on the couch, his phone beside him. You picked it up to move it, and the screen lit up with a notification from a name you didn’t recognize.

You hesitated, heart pounding. You knew you shouldn’t invade his privacy, but curiosity got the better of you. You clicked on the message.

It was nothing explicit, but the familiarity in the words made your stomach churn.

“Can’t wait to see you again.”

Your mind raced with possibilities. Who was this person? Why had Carlos never mentioned them? The doubt that had been gnawing at you now seemed to have a name.

You put the phone back down and took a deep breath. You needed to talk to Carlos, but not tonight. Not when you were this emotional. You needed to gather your thoughts, figure out how to approach this without jumping to conclusions.

As you climbed into bed, you glanced at Carlos, still asleep on the couch. The man who once made you feel like the luckiest person in the world now filled you with uncertainty. And as you stared at the ceiling, you wondered if your relationship could survive this storm.

all credits to @landoscar-f1 2024

[allari-ammayi]

Rain | Pt. 1 《Varsham》 D. Shekar

☆Danny Shekar x Fem! Reader☆

Synopsis: Having never exchanged words despite their obvious romantic tension, the younger sister of 'Bheemla Nayak', Y/n, and his enemy, Danny Shekar, are strandered alone at a bus stop during an hours' long rain fall, left together and start to feel an obvious spark. 《Pt. 1, 2.2k Words》

Note: First post, very excited, and yes, I know my writing is very bad, but trust me, I'll get better!! Anyway, massive smash to the loml. Pls tell me I wasn't the only one violently simping over Danny from the moment he appeared on screen. Btw, this is the y/n version of this story. If you wish to read a version with an oc in it, you can find it on my OC masterlist page!! ALSO, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 》 By interacting with my works or posts, you agree to be exposed to my content and are confirming that you are willingly reading my writing!!

“The rain was unexpected- Just like us. But instead of embracing it, we ran from it. Over and over until we got tired and relented to our yearning desires for each other.”

The duo repeated this very phrase to each other every single night when the moon hung low on the starry night and their windows were wide open to let the fresh breeze of the night sky in as they cuddled together under their silken sheets.

One night it was Y/n and the other it was Danny. But it was always the same. The rain was unexpected. Just like them, but instead of embracing it, they ran from it. Over and over until they got tired and relented to their yearning desire for each other.

It was a sort of weird comfort to them. A grateful reminder to thank that one sudden summer rain that brought the two together in the first place.

But some nights, the duo thought over and even reconsidered a little, was it really the rain that brought them together in the first place or was it Y/n’s brother, the famous ‘Bheemla Nayaak’, who just so happened to be Danny’s number-one rival and vice versa.

But whatever it was, boy were they glad it happened. That night was the same, Danny and Y/n were lying on their shared bed of their home, surrounded by a comforting homey feeling. A feeling of belonging and comfort.

Y/n’s back was pressed against Danny’s chest as his arms were secured around her smaller body, his fingers fidgeting with strands of Y/n’s hair. No words needed to be exchanged between the two to confirm their safety and love in the relationship.

All they needed was each other’s presence and all else was set into place by itself. Their love was enough to fill the room up.

But of course, it wasn’t always like this. It never starts like this and ends well. Maybe that’s why Danny and Y/n’s futures were so secure and well-tied together. Because they had a rocky start.

Because the first thing they witnessed of each other was their worst. Because they accepted each other’s worsts and embraced them, rather than finding out about them later in the relationship and seeing them as deal-breakers.

For y/n, when she first saw Danny, all she could remember of him was his arrogance. His rotten wealth. His disgusting attitude. His shameless disobedience of rules. His horrid way of getting his way with his money. And of course, her brother’s loathing for him. And of course, even she hated him at the start. As far as hating someone simply because of their sibling’s hatred for them goes.

For Danny, when he first saw Y/n, he was initially mesmerised by her. She looked magical. Half drenched in the dark night’s rain as she stumbled into the police station where Danny was being held for travelling across state borders with restricted amounts of alcohol. He stared at her with semi-wide eyes.

Maybe it was a trick of his sleepy daze or the hallucinogenic lick of alcohol still simmering on his lips because only a second later, it disappeared and was replaced with a dreadful annoyance.

But this only happened when Y/n entered the station, looking towards the one person who Danny wanted to stab the life out of, simply for existing and called him ‘Annaya’ {Trans. ‘Older brother’}.

Then, he saw some more negative traits in her. They didn’t exactly make her a bad person, but they made Danny feel a somewhat weird emotion towards her. What do they call it? Hatred? Loath? Disgust? No. That’s right. It was pity. Pity’s a rare feeling to come from Danny, so when it came, it was definitely something special.

The more Danny saw her, the more he noticed them. And the longer he observed her, from afar of course, the more he knew why.

And the more he observed, the more pity he felt for her.

Her over-obedience. Her pitiful submissiveness. Her pride, or rather a lack-there-of. Her dependence on the male figure in her life. Her inability to stand up for herself.

But the longer Danny harboured his animosity for Bheem, the more he realised that none of this was Y/n’s fault, but rather came from the way she was raised. The way she ran her brother’s errands for him, bringing him his lunch boxes and his tea, needing him to drive her to places and back home. She was basically his shadow. Never her own person, with her own feelings, responsibilities or opinions.

Y/n was almost always around Bheem, which meant that Danny and Y/n saw each other far more than they wished, but the two never exchanged words. Merely stolen, short glances towards each other or the few seconds of awkward eye contact they would share occasionally.

It became almost a routine for Danny to hope to coincidentally bump into her during his next antic with Bheem. She was practically his driving force to constantly torture him. His small hope that the next time he and Bheem cross paths due to his latest plan, he’d have Y/n trailing behind him. So he and y/n could share a few more seconds' worth of eye contact with mixed meanings and cloudy intentions.

But one evening changed it all. It changed their entire dynamic and it changed the way their entire worlds moved. It changed the way their feelings danced and it changed the way the other perceived the world.

Y/n, who took it upon herself to run home for another one of Bheem’s silly little errands for her, and Danny who had successfully gotten himself lost in the dry land and borders of the forest collided for the first time. Not literally, but almost.

Y/n, who was practically out of breath from all the running in her not-so-comfortable footwear and Danny who had been roaming the area for hours, frustrated and dying of dehydration crossed paths when y/n finally gave up running, dropped her palms to her knees and huffed for breath like there was no tomorrow.

Danny only caught sight of her when he roughly shoved some stray long dry grass out of his face as he exited the maze of madness, still lost as ever, being new to the area.

He looked around desperately to find something or someone to help him, but when he caught sight of the out-of-breath y/n who was pink in the face and clearly tired from running, he felt his heart physically jump.

He didn’t exactly know why, he’d never felt this way before. Maybe it was because he and the girl had never been alone together. Previously, on every occasion that they were together, there was always her brother in between them nagging about justice and his job and what-not. But why would he even feel this way in the first place?

It’s not like he felt anything for her. But maybe it was because of the countless hours that he thought of her even when unnecessary.

The hours he spent laying on his bed, initially only feeling pity for her, then starting to spend hours analysing her emotions and traits and why she does what she does before eventually spending more hours, laying on his bed, staring into the ceiling, thinking of nothing but her eyes. Her beautiful doe eyes.

But of course not! Danny shook his head to get those ridiculous thoughts out of his head. Danny spent the next few seconds, thinking of an actual, reasonable and proper reason, and came to the conclusion that he only felt a jump in his heart because he was worried that like always, the siblings would be together and where Y/n was, so was Bheem.

And Danny couldn’t afford Bheem’s bitter satisfaction from Danny being so lost and helpless. Yes, of course! That’s the only reason! Or at least that’s what Danny said in a hopefully convincing manner.

But who was he trying to convince?

Himself?

But still, even that thought bruised his ego a little. But still, this was the only idea that didn’t include some ridiculous fantasy about Y/n. Danny watched as Y/n regained her composure and landed her hands on hips or on her back before she looked up at the sky.

Only then did Danny realise how creepy he looked, staring at a helpless girl, half-hidden in the tall bushes. Danny jumped out from the bushes, glad that Y/n hadn’t spotted him yet and when Y/n looked towards him and realised his presence, he folded his arms behind him and tilted his chin up in a better-than-you kind of way.

The second Y/n saw Danny walking around the bushes, she tensed up for a second, half-scared of the fact that he could have planned something related to her in hopes of attacking her brother and half for the same reason he was. Simply because they had never been along together.

Y/n’s breath hitched when Danny began walking in her direction, looking as prideful and arrogant as ever. Danny gulped as he walked right past Y/n, his eyes secretly trailing to the side of his face to catch a glimpse of her as he went.

Y/n twiddled with her thumbs and at the awkward moment between them, the heavens groaned and urged the two together with a little crazy weather. Unexpectedly and completely out of blue, the initially bright blazing sun was covered up by heavy and dark rain clouds, meaning that nothing good could come from this.

Y/n looked up at the clouds and when she felt a soft kiss on her nose from raindrop, she felt her heart drop. She had no umbrella and she was miles away form home which meant it’d take her another half-an hour to get home, and that was if she ran.

The same was with Danny. He also didn’t have an umbrella. After-all, who could’ve predectied this weather?

“What-?” Danny let out as he wiped a raindrop off his forehead, the duo started to get worried, still exchanging no words. When the sudden sound of pitter-patter surrounded Danny and Y/n, they turned to each other in mutual worry and Y/n looked desperately around.

“Come, Follow me.” Y/n said after a short consideration. She couldn’t escape the rain by herself and let Danny die out in the wet cold. He too was a human. A human that was hated by her older brother, but still a human. Bheem could have argued otherwise, but it didn’t matter.

Danny turned to Y/n and when he saw her already sprinting away, he looked around before back at her.

“Hey-!” He called out reaching an arm out towards her, but Y/n didn’t stop. Danny let out a sigh of frustration, raked his hair back with his fingers before he begrudgingly followed behind her.

“Just this way,” Y/n said, lifting her voni a little as she ran.

“Do you even know where you’re going??” Danny asked her, struggling to keep up with the slippery little minx of a girl, y/n was.

Y/n came to a sudden halt, and when Danny nearly crashed into the smaller girl, she threateningly pulled her index finger out at him and she narrowed her eys.

“Do you want to get drenched in the rain or do you want to get shelter?” She asked, her voice dangerously leaking with threats.

Danny was left speechless at this. Never once had he ever seen Y/n this way. But then again, he never really saw her that much to begin with, but still. This was a true shock for the man.

“I- Uh- Yeah- Yeah, I want to- I want to get shelter.” Danny struggled out, stumbling over his words at the threatening smaller girl.

“Aithe noru musukoni ra. {Trans.: Then keep quite and follow me.)” Danny automatically nodded, Y/n’s sudden high demanding voice instantly taking control of him.

Within seconds, Y/n led Danny straight to a tattered old bus stop. It was not at all what Danny had in mind, but he was willing to take whatever he could to get out of this rain even a little. The duo rushed to get under the shade, their clothes already damp from the early rain.

From the moment their skins were no longer being tapped on by the rain drops, Danny and y/n were both quick to start drying themselves the best they could.

The tattered bus stop consisted of just one, one and a half meter long bench with a shade that looked like it could fall apart any minute.

“This was the place you were talking about when you said shelter?” Danny asked, looking around before taking a seat. Y/n opted to sit as far as she could, even willing to let half of her leg hang off the end of the bench if it meant putting some distance between her and Danny.

“Let me know if it isn’t up to your fancy posh tastes, and I can tear it apart in seconds,” Y/n said, looking at the ground, and pulling her knees to her chest. “Then we can happily die out in the rain.” She added, quietly.

Danny rolled his eyes.

“It’s fine for now.”

“It will be. We just have to wait a few minutes, it’ll be gone and we can go our own ways.” If only it were that easy.

To be continued...

Taglist 》

None yet! Please reply to this post if you wish to be tagged in my future works, fics, and the next part to this story! :)

[high-fructose-lesbianism]

60′s Batman gifs 87/?

[todoscript]

how he would ask you out

request: pls some headcanons of how the boys (shinsou/tamaki/shouto) would ask the girl they like out 🥺

characters: shinsou hitoshi, amajiki tamaki, todoroki shouto

genre: fluff

word count: 3.3k+ total, 900-1200 per character

tags: pining, confessions, fem!reader

author’s notes: sorry if this sounds rushed?? i can’t write 

copyright 2021 todoscript, all rights reserved. i do not allow my creations to be published or translated anywhere else.

SHINSOU HITOSHI

two years after his enrollment into the hero course, shinsou had finally came to terms with the feelings he’s been holding for you for quite some time now.

what began as just friendly encounters and kind gestures felt like something more to him. after all, you were one of the key people that led him to transition smoothly into the class, with your helpful demeanor and coming to his aid whenever he was stressed and troubled by the new environment.

you went out of your way to organize study sessions and small arrangements to mingle and get to know the other students better.

you reiterated to him that if he ever had any questions about anything, he could always come to you.

initially, shinsou thought he was being a burden—that he was just heavy baggage that tied you down.

however, you assured he was anything but, and stated that you were more than happy to help him, even going to say you enjoyed spending time and getting to learn more about him.

at your response, shinsou was appalled at how genuine you were.

appalled… but also very grateful.

eventually, there came a point when he realized there was no mistaking the affection he felt for you—not when he subconsciously noted every one of your habits and intricacies, able to tell whatever emotions were running through you at a simple glance, or when he would stop to admire the way you decided to style your hair differently or changed your look, thinking you seemed even more charming that day by the confidence you exude.

no, at that point, he’s sure it was painfully obvious. so obvious, in fact, that kaminari and mina had chosen to skip today’s group study session in favor of letting the two of you have your “alone time”. whatever that could mean.

shinsou had grimaced over their excuse of “being too busy that day” when you had told him the reasoning they gave you over text, despite knowing their next exam was only a couple days away. recalling just how nosy and enthusiastic they could get when involved in these kinds of affairs, he had an inkling of what exactly those two were planning. you, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to their schemes.

however, what did latch onto your mind was the thought of spending the day with only shinsou, in his very room, sitting across from each other with your textbooks open in front of you. though you should be more attentive to your studies, you couldn’t help the palpitations beating loudly in your chest and your wandering eyes that snuck glances at him after every question you answered.

unbeknownst to you, shinsou mirrored your actions all the same, reciprocating the flustered behavior, albeit a bit more subtly.

keep calm, hitoshi. why are you getting all worked up? he would say to himself, putting on his usual facade.

although he came off as relatively calm and collected on the outside, it’s difficult to keep his emotions in check when actions never lie.

that was especially true as he reached his hand out for the eraser you two were sharing between each other. with his eyes continuing to gander down at his notes, he hadn’t noticed that you were lunging for the same thing—not until your fingers had suddenly touched and you both pulled away at a speed equivalent to making contact with fire.

his stare unfaltering, shinsou was surprised to discern the embarrassed look on your face that immediately fixed itself as you rummaged through your pencil pouch. a second later, you pulled out another eraser, one that was notably smaller than the one you were sharing.

“um.. i’ll just use this,” you offered, and shinsou rubbed the back of his neck, the whole situation more awkward than it needed to be considering you never had any trouble sharing your supplies with each other before.

through some examination of your demeanor, shinsou had made a… bold enough claim, thinking that maybe—just maybe—you held the same kind of affections for him as he did for you.

it’s like he recalled earlier—actions never lie—and shinsou didn’t let the quiver of your lips or the intense concentration at your work to avoid meeting his gaze go past his head. that’s what spurred him to finally act on his desires.

without warning, he leaned forward on his seat to lay his hand over yours that caught your attention. you met his eyes, astonished to say the least, but more so concerned by how your eyes widened before you were about to open your mouth to ask him what was wrong.

the violet-haired male beats you to your words, voice resonating firmly, “y/n.”

you blinked. “y-yeah..?”

“i know this might be a bit late coming from me, but,” you could feel his hand tighten atop yours, “after exams, do you want to catch a movie together? just the two of us?”

shinsou fought the urge to look away, bashful at how he made his declaration for your time. the warmth surging under his skin was alleviated at the smile that slowly curled on your lips as you rotate your wrist, your palm touching his. the expression washing over your features told him you’ve been waiting for him to ask you this for a while now.

“i’d love to.”

AMAJIKI TAMAKI

ever a shy and introverted individual, tamaki has never had the heart to ask you out despite years of harboring a crush on you.

every time the thought had crossed his mind, he’d reason poorly with himself that you wouldn’t be interested in him in that way.

it didn’t help that his low self-esteem only deepened that thought that had now rooted itself in his brain.

at such a prestigious school like u.a., you were bound to find someone far more compelling than him—someone with guts, confidence, and great social skills. not a guy like him who conjures the image of potatoes at every anxiety-inducing encounter he comes across.

he was relieved enough to settle himself comfortably as just your friend—a title that allowed him to stay close and keep within your circle, all the while subjecting him to simply admiring you from afar.

but his eyes that held a hidden longing for more weren’t overlooked by a fellow student of his. or to be precise, the ever curious and free-spirited, hadou nejire.

always aware of his surroundings, it was hard not to notice that peculiar stare she’d aim at him during moments where he might’ve just finished speaking to you, or when you’d pass by and his head would naturally drift in your direction.

it was like she was picking apart every detail laid on him and it made tamaki absolutely restless.

tamaki’s suspicions and anxiety were later raised during one instance at the lunch table. he was at his usual seat next to his other big three companions, mirio and the aforementioned nejire, who was eyeing him with a gleam in her eye.

even with his self-consciousness, tamaki did his best not to pay any mind to the undesired attention and munched on his plate of takoyaki—the octopus nestled in the batter sure to come in handy later in training that day.

to his dismay, you passed by their table with your tray of food in hand, and nejire did not waste any time calling you over in that cheery tone of hers.

she invited you to sit down with them. you gave her invitation some thought before ultimately placing yourself in the free spot next to mirio, with nejire and tamaki already seated across from you.

the girl was all smiles and hums while tamaki was in a state of distress, both at his friend’s odd behavior, which was starting to spell trouble, to having you pulled into all of this. mirio was just being mirio, welcoming as always.

you greeted everyone at the table, making eye contact with mirio and nejire, but tamaki evaded your line of sight. he simply waved his reply without breaking away from his balls of takoyaki.

luckily for him, you didn’t give his lack of words much thought and started digging into your own lunch. it was then that nejire found it appropriate to start up a conversation.

“y’know, y/n, i’ve been meaning to ask you this, from one girl to another,” she mused, finger waving around playfully, “are you interested in anyone here?”

upon hearing her question, tamaki almost choked on his bonito flakes, his cheeks puffed and eyes blown. meanwhile, your chewing slowed as you gave your answer some thought.

“uh… well–”

“i’d say fujita from class d is quite the looker! think you’d be interested in them?”

after swallowing the food in his mouth, tamaki began to subconsciously listen in on the conversation. he paid close attention to your responses with bated breath, a small part of him anticipating your answer highly.

“fujita’s nice and all, but i don’t think we’d really get along as a couple.”

tamaki mentally sighed, relief evident all over his face. it was then that mirio had started fitting the pieces together after watching his close friend’s brow wrinkle throughout the entire exchange before finally relaxing at your words. crossing his eyes with nejire’s only confirmed his suspicions as the girl sent him a wink.

as a friend, mirio wasn’t about to let nejire’s operations fall flat. getting up from his seat, he motioned tamaki to come with him.

“i heard they have extra yakisoba bread right now! we should go check it out!” he said as a guise to give the other two time to themselves, free from tamaki’s prying ears.

unaware that mirio had caught on so quickly, tamaki didn’t object to tagging along with him. mostly because he thought of this as an opportunity to get some fresh air and calm his racing heart, finally feeling the effects of the blood rushing to his face.

with tamaki supposedly out of earshot, nejire was free to go about her questions however she wanted.

“okay then, if not fujita, then who? there has to be someone, right?” the girl scooted further in her seat out of pure curiosity. “tell me, is it perhaps someone in our class?”

it was your turn to be stricken by her boldness. you tried picking at your food, stuffing it into your mouth to avoid answering, but nejire’s tenacity outmatched you.

finishing your lunch, you opened your mouth to speak, “actually, the person i’m interested in is pretty close to you…”

nejire feigned ignorance, innocently placing a finger under her chin. “who? mirio?”

“ah no, it’s tamaki, alright?!” you ended up blurting, voice hushed but frantic.

bingo. hearing exactly what she wanted, nejire returned to her original position, a triumphant grin plastered on her lips. replaying what you said out loud in your head, you buried your warm face in your hands.

unbeknownst to you, tamaki had ended up hearing the whole exchange around the corner coming back to their table as mirio lightly snickered at his revelation of an expression.

the blond patted his shoulder. “go on then, you know what to do.” he threw tamaki an encouraging thumbs-up.

the boy gulped in response before inhaling a deep breath of air to prepare himself for what would arguably be the most important yet stress-inducing moment of his life so far.

noticing you getting up to discard your tray, tamaki—through a final push from mirio—went to make his move.

hearing him suddenly call out to you, you were caught off-guard. after admitting to your crush on tamaki to nejire, you felt your cheeks get hot just seeing his face right afterward.

“oh hey, did you get your hands on those yakisoba breads?” you scraped up a way to start the conversation.

“right... that… mirio managed to get the last one in the cafeteria,” he answered. then he brought his hand to rub his elbow, fidgeting in his spot as he found it difficult to look you in the eyes again.

“tamaki? something wrong? are you upset that he got the last yakisoba bread?”

he shook his head. “no, i… it’s just… i’ve been meaning to ask you this for a long time now, but never had the courage to say it to you because i didn’t think you ever liked me that way. but…” he finally mustered the determination to face you head-on. “would you go out with me, y/n?”

at first, you were speechless—absent of words as you relayed his request in your mind over and over again. then, your eyes softened, lips easing into a smile as you reached out for his hand.

“i thought you’d never ask.”

TODOROKI SHOUTO

it’s no surprise to many that when it came to asking someone out, todoroki didn’t exactly know the first thing to do.

mostly because he’s never asked anyone out to begin with.

you were the first person he’s ever felt these kinds of emotions for, and to be frank, he wasn’t sure what to make of everything that had been going through him when that root of infatuation had started to bloom inside him.

rather than sulk or contemplate on his thoughts for too long, he surmised it was best to simply come clean and ask for advice.

but when he confessed to what had been on his mind lately, he wasn’t expecting such a vigorous response from his friends.

“i’ve been thinking about asking y/n out.”

there was a layer of uncomfortable silence amongst the group before all hell eventually broke loose.

midoriya, uraraka, and iida immediately sprung from their seats in the common room, yelling “what?!” in unison. tsuyu and her frog-like mannerisms were more idle, but still surprised nonetheless.

todoroki was unfazed by their reactions, actually expecting it to go that way considering he’s never brought up any topics of that nature before. at the very least, he’s thankful he decided to say this when it was just the five of them. compared to what the whole class’s reaction would have been like, this was incredibly tame.

todoroki was used to always listening to what others had to say and never being the subject of the conversation when it came to dating.

but now things were different. he was openly admitting to them that he was regarding someone romantically. that he possibly sought a relationship with this someone—wanting to be committed to them and become the very best person he could be right next to them. to the four, this was coming completely out of left field.

after everyone simmered down and let the news sink in, the dual-haired boy resumed his thought,

“but i’m not sure how to do it.”

though the entirety of the group never had any experiences when it came to dating, they knew enough from media and pop culture to get an idea on how to help him. more than todoroki could imagine on his own anyway.

“i know! how about we go with the romantic and suave approach!” uraraka suggested. the rest asked her to elaborate.

“it’s simple! it starts by you leaving a note on her desk right before class, saying to meet you on the rooftop of the school! before the designated time, you should wait there for her with a bouquet of flowers, and then when she arrives, confess your feelings and ask her out!”

midoriya rubbed a finger against his cheek, skeptical. “i don’t think that sounds as simple as you’re making it out to be.”

tsuyu chimed in beside him. “those kinds of ideas usually only work well in books, ochako.”

pursing her lips, uraraka gave her plan a once-over, and realized it did seem a bit more involved and out of character than what todoroki was used to.

despite sharing a few more ideas with one another, they couldn’t narrow it down to any perfect one.

that was when iida clapped his hand, bringing everyone’s attention to him.

“alright, i think we’re starting to blow this whole ‘operation’ way out of proportion,” he said.

“if you’re honest about the way you feel about her and show it sincerely, i’m sure she’ll consider your feelings. you don’t have to do anything extravagant when it comes to asking someone out.”

listening throughout every word, todoroki nodded. meanwhile the other three were astonished that their class representative could be so whimsical when it came to romance, which in turn, iida was conflicted by. however, at the very least he was glad they could help out a friend. and so, todoroki went about his day with their discussion in mind.

he found that in many occurrences, whenever he crossed by you and thought of it as a chance to ask you out, there would always be someone to come in and take your time away. leaving him to stand there awkwardly before dismissing the fated question for later.

eventually, the sky dimmed and evening arrived, and by then, the whole class was already back at their dormitory and about to have dinner.

through some rather convenient circumstances, you two were actually assigned on kitchen duty that night.

“it’s been getting pretty cold lately so i was thinking we should cook up a hot pot for everyone.” you gave your idea to him as you pulled out some ingredients from the fridge, waiting for his reply, but it came a few seconds later than you were expecting.

“right. sounds like a good idea,” todoroki answered a tad late. upon realizing it was only going to be the two of you making dinner tonight, his mind was occupied by what he and his friends spoke about earlier.

that was when he started overthinking the situation and absentmindedly half-assed his work.

“todoroki, the cut on the tofu is slightly uneven.” you reviewed his cutting board. looking down, he saw the inconsistent slices of tofu limp in front of him. if bakugou were the executive chef for the evening, he would’ve had to hear an earful from him.

“sorry…” he apologized quietly, reaching out for another cube of tofu to cut.

“is everything okay? i know you’re still learning how to cook, but i’ve seen you show some significant improvement on your knife skills recently.” you voiced your concern for him.

the white and red-haired boy stared at the white bean curd while hearing your worried tone and couldn’t find it within himself to continue the task. it was now or never he thought. he laid the knife flat on the cutting board.

“actually, i wanted to ask you something.” he turned toward you. “do you… want to go out with me?”

nothing but the sound of the fire running on the stove could be heard in the kitchen. todoroki didn’t move his eyes away from you, watching you nearly drop the plate of siu choy and shiitake mushrooms out of shock as your mouth was hanging open.

when you caught onto your bearings, you let out a small laugh. “oh… i… wasn’t expecting that,” you admitted honestly, placing the ingredients on the counter safely.

the boy furrowed his brows. “is that a no?”

“n-no! i mean that isn’t my answer! i–” you fumbled with your words, cheeks warming up now that his confession had finally sunk in. in the meantime, todoroki found your reaction quite amusing. the corner of his lip quirked into a grin.

“what i mean to say is that yes, i’d love to go out with you.” you accepted the offer wholeheartedly. todoroki would be lying if his heart wasn’t throbbing from anticipation. he’s glad he’s able to rest and put that aside.

“now let’s continue making this hot pot together!” you cheered, smiling widely and he found comfort in your words before resuming slicing the tofu.

[grapementos]

I LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH!!!!Can I ask for a cheater bakugo, kirishima or deku? ( can you do all three? That would be awesome 🥲) and pls make the ending v angsty (on the other persons side lmaooowjwisj) like, y/n dates their best friend or something LOL

This is literally my first time, so I’m sorry if it doesn’t make sense 🥲

meliora

(adj.) latin for “the pursuit of better”

a/n: AHH NONNIE ILYSM TY FOR THIS REQUEST. i’ll have all three characters i promise, but for now take kiri. i hope this angst is up to your standards 🥺 and your request made sense dw mwah xoxo also— AGED UP CHARACTERS.

midoriya’s part. bakugo’s part.

cw: cheating, crying, mentions of alcohol/under influence of alcohol, suggestive if you squint, kissing.

kirishima was indescribable.

you'd never before met a man that was so utterly wonderful in every way. every move he made was perfect in your eyes. he could do no wrong.

and he loved you just as hard. he was willing to shout it from the rooftops the second you had an ounce of doubt. you were never his secret--you were his most prized possession; he loved showing you off and flaunting the fact that he, 'had the best partner in the world.'

every one of your friends put money on the two of you getting married and staying together (even bakugo, surprisingly.) you were counting on that outcome.

still, you had disagreements from time to time, just like every other couple, but you had enough patience and sense between the two of you to be rational. you openly discussed your insecurities with each other, only to be met with open arms and gentle reassurances.

you didn't tend to entertain the idea of soulmates, but what other explanation was there? what other phenomenon could be held responsible for your seemingly destined relationship?

whatever it was, you were in love with your soulmate.

that's what you thought, at least.

that's what you thought until he cheated.

he cheated at a party you didn't even want to attend. but, because you loved him, you did. you attended the party only to find your drunken boyfriend eating some random person's face in one of yaoyorozu's million guest rooms. you remembered it so vividly.

it was a sight that was branded in your brain--you couldn't even blink without seeing them together, kissing with such desperation, such hunger.

"ei?" your voice had quivered, phone dropping to the floor, "what.. what're you.."

you wanted to scream when his dazed eyes met yours, glazed over and burning with a look you'd never seen in them before.

"y/n? that's not.." he stammered, looking back and forth between you and the person, "i'm not.. who's this?" as if finally realizing that was not, in fact, you, he shoved them off, crossing the to move towards you.

"you tell me, kirishima! you're the one with your tongue down their throat!" your eyes stung, every part of you trembling with utter betrayal.

"i.. i thought'was you!" he slurred, eyes pleading as he reached out to grab your arm.

you jerked back as if you'd been burned, "me? kirishima, i look nothing like them!" fat tears rolled down your cheeks as you stepped back, blinking quickly to clear your vision.

"s'tp calling me that.. s'not my name." he frowned, "m'so sorry, so sorry.. let's go home, please. let's just go home." he begged, eyes still unfocused. he was definitely not in any condition to drive.

so you decided to take care of him. one last time.

you drove him back to your shared apartment that night, ignoring the questioning looks you received from everyone.

they knew. they'd seen kirishima go upstairs with that person, and yet they let you see it for yourself. likely because you wouldn't have believed that your perfect boyfriend committed such an unspeakable act.

you helped him into the apartment after a long drive consisting of a stop at a gas station to buy some water and kirishima's loud wails and apologies. the entire ride you only spoke three words to him:

"drink your water."

he clung onto you as you guided him to your bedroom, helping him change into more comfortable clothes.

and then the two of you were seated on the bed. silent. alcohol long worn off.

"y/n, please-"

"i'll be gone by the morning. i'm taking everything in one trip." you couldn't look at him. if you did, you'd see his eyes that made you weak, and your resolve would crumble. you would forgive him, you were sure of it. all it took was a look.

"no!" he nearly shouted, sobs racking his body, "no, y/n, you can't. you can't leave me, it was a mistake, i'm so sorry!" his hands tangled in the duvet, presumably because he was too scared to touch you.

"and why can't i," you cursed the way your voice cracked, "kirishima? tell me, please. tell me right now that there is no reason for me to leave you. tell me that you did nothing wrong. tell me that what i saw tonight wasn't real. please tell me i made a mistake, and that i'm crazy, or- or i need glasses or something."

he was trying to talk over you as your voice kept raising, growing more and more desperate as your resolve cracked.

"tell me i didn't see you kiss them!"

he was silent, for his deed was there. out in the open. and he knew he couldn't tell you any of that. it would be a lie. a cold, hard lie you wanted nothing more than to believe.

"thought so." you muttered bitterly, getting up to start packing your clothes. just as you stood, another tsunami of misery slammed into you. you paused, back facing him.

"i just.. don't understand." you whispered, "i thought we were so happy. were you bored? is that it? we've been together so long that you got tired of the same old thing?"

before he could speak, you spoke again, voice heavy with tears, "and why don't i want you to feel the same hurt i do? i should, right? i should be angry and cursing your name and not want to be anywhere near you. i should have left you there at the party and let someone else take care of you."

"why didn't you?" he mumbled after a beat of silence.

"because i'm truly in love with you." you finally looked over to meet his gaze, "i guess soulmates really don't exist, huh?"

-

true to your word, you were gone by morning. you had everything in your car, leaving a note on the counter for kirishima to read once he woke up.

thankfully, you'd arranged to stay with a friend while you searched for a place to relocate. you expected it to take less than a month if you looked consistently and weren't too picky.

what you didn't expect, however, was a message from the one and only katsuki bakugo.

it was him requesting to meet up with you at a coffee shop you were familiar with, which you reluctantly agreed to. as soon as you sent the text, however, you knew it was a bad idea. he was friends with kirishima and was probably only meeting with you because he asked him to.

it was too late, you decided, so you went to get ready for your mysterious rendezvous.

once time rolled around and you were seated at the table with him, you were shocked to find that he met with you on his own accord.

"i don't do people favors. especially cheaters." he’d explained after you mentioned your concern.

it stung. the reminder.

bakugo must've noticed because he swiftly distracted you.

"stop staring off into space, idiot. i invited you here for a reason."

you found that he wanted to help you. when asked why, he just looked off to the side, as if contemplating.

"i know how you feel. let me help you."

"i thought you don't do people favors, bakugo?"

"listen, do you want my help or not?"

you did. you really did. you felt so alone and tired.

so you agreed. and the rest was history.

BONUS:

you eventually fell out of love with kirishima. he'd always have a special place in your heart, but time managed to heal the wound you thought would be the death of you.

of course, you still had love for him, but when you saw the flash of hurt in his eyes after you exchanged vows with bakugo, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel any regret.

you likes? eh? eh? 👀 seriously tho i hope this was what you wanted 🥺 reblogs appreciated !

are you in pain, @zuroki ? hope so <3

[teklarn]

hi, this is my first ever ask so I'm not sure I'm doing this correctly, if that's the case I'm sorry; I don't know how tumblr works just yet >:')

would it be possible for you to write something about bakugo, pining incredibly hard for fem!reader and initially hating how strongly he feels about her? because they're not even friends, they only exchange few words occasionally and she doesn't even glance at his way whereas he slowly finds himself unable to divert his eyes from her during classes? shes always with damn deku and his friends and doesn't even seem interested in him at all but his heart can't ignore the way she looks at him proudly whenever they spar together, the way she sends him small confident smiles as they fight each other with all they have; so he thinks that maybe, maybe he might have a chance. basically bakugo liking reader so much he's completely lost in self-hatred because he always thought feelings were for weak romantics and not great people like him, but everytime he sees reader doing some badass things (again, like sparring with him and basically matching his skills etc...) he's reminded of how badly he likes reader? but when he finally accepts he's fallen for reader, after ignoring and trying to forget about how she makes him feel, he masters up the courage to confess? and it's a very clumsy confession because he's awkward and has no idea how to deal with those feelings? and he tries so hard to make reader realise he's never been more serious than now? and reader is startled and speechless before rejecting him? and at that point he's just completely humiliated, so he nods and walks away.

it might be a little dramatic but I've always been into unrequited love and one-sided pining. thank you, its okay if you don't want to write about this, i'll understand <33

𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓪𝓵 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾

character(s): katsuki bakugou x fem!reader (my hero academia) 

reblogs are greatly appreciated! 

a/n: AHHHHH this is so cute <33 honestly this is super exciting for me and this ask made me so happy, lovey. i’m fairly new to tumblr, i’m usually just a reader but i wanted to migrate here from wattpad so this made me so happy. here u are my love <33 i hope this lives up to what u wanted !! :)) a bit lengthy, but i had a lot of fun writing it !!! 

summary: bakugou finds he’s rejecting his feelings for you in fear of becoming weak, however he just can’t seem to ignore you. 

genre: fluffy, fluffier than the clouds istg, however the clouds are sprinking a little teeny weeny droplet of angst. 

warnings: cursing (bakugou, duhh), one-sided pining (on bakugou’s part) second hand embarrassment (on bakugou’s part bc we can all agree he’s a complete idiot when it comes to trying to get someone’s attention), just bakugou being a jackass, i gave the reader a quirk 

word count: 3,859 

(pls excuse any typos or mistakes, i edited to the best of my ability but i miss some things sometimes !) 

- - - 

part 2 is here my loves <3

brutal. it was utterly ruthless. he couldn’t focus, couldn’t think right. his hands were already exceptionally sweaty, but gosh when he saw your damn face, he was ready to explode. literally. 

what the hell was it about you? was it your stupid smile? or the way you just seemed to carry every battle on your back? was it all the undeniably sweet things you do for others ‘just because’? 

it made him angry that he thought about you, but gosh he couldn’t wait to see you every day. 

just like any other day, bakugou found himself staring at the large door to the classroom, awaiting the moment you would bounce into his day, skirt shifting around your legs, bag slung loosely around your shoulders. 

his leg was bouncing eagerly. 

bakugou didn’t know when the feelings came. his cheeks just started flaring up all of a sudden and one day you just looked...different. you hadn’t done anything different to yourself. it was just him. not that he would ever admit that, to you or anybody else. 

you were insufferable. you were stupid and obnoxious and so...so damn... 

“y/n! come look at this!” 

you’d come walking into class just as expected, and as soon as you did, that stupid nerd had called you over. 

it didn’t help that deku sat right behind him, either. the two of you had recently gotten closer. bakugou noticed it last month when he yelled at the two of you to shut up about all might and get to work. he’d turned around to find you leaning over deku, hands resting on his shoulders while you peered at his phone. 

“sorry, bakugou,” you’d said, barely acknowledging him. you had waved him off like an annoying fly. is that all you were to him? some nuisance that got in the way of your oh-so-entertaining conversations with deku? 

all he heard nearly every day was your chipper voice talking to deku. always, “oh my gosh, midoriya, did you see the fight edgeshot was in last night?” or “midoriya! i have something to add to our quirk analysis book!” 

that was the one that took the cake. you two dorks shared a notebook, occasionally passed between one another, and filled it with junk about quirks and pro heroes. but no matter how much he tried to tune you out, no matter how he tried to zone off and think about something else, you were always there. it made him want to vomit how much he thought about you. 

you were doing an adorable shuffle over to midoriya’s desk and leaned over the table as you usually did while he angled his phone your way. “did you see this hero report?” 

deku let you slip the phone out of his grasp to get a better look. 

“no,” you breathed. “was this just recent?” 

“yeah,” deku said, taking the phone back. “last night.” 

“holy—” 

“can you guys shut up over there?” bakugou said, his voice quaking. 

“sorry, kacchan.” deku scrolled through the article. 

dammit, bakugou thought. “i wasn’t talking to you, nerd. i was talking to shitface over here.” he jerked his head towards you. his eyes flared in anger when he saw you were looking down at your phone, now focused in on the article yourself. “i was talking to you, asshat!” 

your eyes flicked up to his. you looked around for a moment before slowly pointing to yourself as if to say, “me?” 

his face scrunched. “yeah, you. you’re so damn loud.” gosh, he hated how his voice was cracking, how he could feel his ears and cheeks lighting up in a swollen, cherry red. his stomach flipped. 

she’s looking at you, gosh i’m sweating. i’m going to throw up. she’s so gorgeous. what the hell? they’re ugly as shit, i don’t think anything of them. 

his eyes bore into yours. 

“did you...need something?” 

your voice broke his trance. 

“kacchan, are you okay? you dozed off there for a second. you look like you’re burning up.” 

bakugou looked to deku who was currently stretching out of his seat, arm extended. he pressed the back of his hand to bakugou’s forehead. “you’re really warm, kacchan. should we call recovery girl?” 

it took him a moment to realize what was happening. his vision got blurry every time he was with you. bakugou smacked deku’s hand away. “i’m fine!” his voice lifted at the end, cracking. “i’m not sick. don’t you think i’d take better care of myself?” 

“i don’t doubt you take good care of yourself, kacchan, but everyone gets sick once in a while. there’s nothing wrong with that.” 

“i never get sick!” besides, if i got sick, i wouldn’t want you to be the one taking care of me. 

he was still pissed. he was always in a bad mood, however, more so right now because you’d gone straight back to your phone and that stupid hero article that was supposedly so damn interesting. 

soon enough, the bell rang, and you were seated at your desk. it was jirou’s old spot, however, after much convincing, you two had switched spots so you could be closer to deku. just a few months of getting close to the idiot and you two are suddenly best friends. jirou hadn’t minded one tiny bit, claiming she needed a break from how loud that section of the room was. 

late as always, aizawa came trudging into your room. thankfully, his entire body wasn’t obscured by a yellow sleeping bag that smelled of something unwashed and coffee and gasoline. (for some reason, aizawa’s clothes always smelled of it.) 

“lucky for you,” he began while shuffling papers on his desk, “all of you are doing training for these first periods.”

the class cheered in perfect unison, followed by their individual chatter. you had erupted with glee along with them, and bakugou was sure he felt his heart clench and then explode. just a tiny bit. but he shoved the feeling down just as quickly as it had come up. 

“go out to the field and wait for further instructions. don’t make a sound in the halls otherwise, i’ll expel all of you.” 

this shut everyone up in almost a second, the sound draining out just as water does. the first years trailed out into the hall, single-file mimicking the positions baby ducklings would take when following their mother. 

bakugou found himself walking faster when he saw you take up your spot in the line, hoping to land his spot right behind you. 

unfortunately, this idiot who considered himself bakugou’s friend tugged him back. “bakugou!” a familiar voice rasped. 

“shitty hair, let go of me.” 

“hey man, chill out. wanna partner up if we’re doing training in pairs?” 

bakugou glanced at the line, the spot that should have been reserved for him now taken up by sato. 

bakugou tugged his sleeve from kirishima’s hand. “whatever,” he snapped. 

“sounds good!” kirishima flashed him a toothy grin and a thumbs-up. the bubbly feeling in bakugou’s chest died down as he stood behind sato, the overwhelming scent of sugar filling his nose, various candies that would go straight to your arteries. 

“you smell like ass, damn,” bakugou remarked, squeezing his nostrils together. 

luckily, sato was tall enough to not hear the insult, as he towered over bakugou by just another head. the line began moving like a sloppy train down to the change rooms. 

bakugou scoffed as he listened to your giggle. he should be making you laugh. 

- 

“you’ll be given partners randomly from this box.” aizawa held up a familiar red box. “inside are all your names. i’ll select one, then that person will come up and pick another name from the box. that will be your assigned partner for today. as soon as you have your assigned partner, i want you guys to get straight to work.” 

denki raised a hand, speaking before being called on. “sensei, why are we getting random partners? we’re always allowed to choose.” 

“in the real world, you’re going to come across different villains every day. you’ll never improve your skills or your quirks if you keep fighting the same person.” 

denki sighed, slumping back. 

dammit, bakugou thought, gritting his teeth together. there wasn’t any way he wanted to be partners with you. it’s obvious he’d win the fight in the first few seconds. 

yes! exactly right! bakugou internally grinned. his fluctuating feelings had finally soothed themselves. you were just another extra, and he had no room for you in his head. 

aizawa took a moment to fiddle with the slips of paper inside the box. soon enough, he pulled out a name. “todoroki.” 

todoroki walked up, digging his hand into the box when aizawa held it out for him. he pulled out a name, delicately unraveling the slip. “uraraka, you’re my partner.” he deadpanned. 

the brunette grinned. “great!” 

the two found their own spot on the field, and the class’s attention was once again diverted to their grouchy teacher as he pulled out another name. 

“bakugou.” 

bakugou strutted up without a worry in his mind. he pulled a name to find... 

“y/n,” he said, voice a low growl. instead of the annoying fluttering in his chest, his eyes met yours, and they were filled with a different, new ferocity. he crumpled the paper in one hand, letting it twirl to the ground. 

you looked at him, unsmiling. your eyes gave away nothing, and to bakugou’s knowledge, all you saw in him was another opponent. 

it took him a moment to realize you had both locked eyes for about a minute. perhaps the two of you would have stayed as you were if aizawa hadn’t snapped at the two of you to get moving as yaomomo’s name was called. 

bakugou was on his way to the back of the field, you followed close behind. while there was plenty of room still, he chose a secluded area. while it was still open enough to view everything going on so nobody got hurt, it was often nobody chose to train here. for whatever reason, you weren’t sure. 

“wait up, bakugou,” you said. after a bit, you caught up to him. 

“if you can’t keep up, then...” then what? he looked at you from the side of his eye. “then don’t keep up...” gosh, here came the embarrassing, disgusting feeling of redness in his cheeks. 

you laughed. “what?” 

“shut up.” 

“you’re an idiot, bakugou.” 

“i said shut the hell up!”

“what, so you can call me shitface in front of the entire class but you get all pissed when i call you an idiot?” 

so you had heard him! 

he tongued his cheek, curling his hands around an invisible ball, explosions sparking in the centers of his palms. “don’t expect me to hold back, dumbass.” 

“i wouldn’t dream of it.” 

gosh he loved that about you. 

bakugou caught his thought in the air. 

ahem...gosh he hated that about you. 

you both charged in at the same time. his cry was louder than yours, but you struck first. 

he admired your quirk. while he’d overhead you explaining all the drawbacks it had, it was strong, and you were strong because you knew how to control it. 

purple arrows flew from your arms, going in your desired directions. if you lost focus for one moment, they’d vanish and weaken. if you focused too hard or long, you’d be plagued by a splitting headache. 

he’d spent too much time obsessing over your strengths and weaknesses.  

your arrows were weightless, however they were solid objects capable of carrying any mass, any thing, and worked as extensions of your body. 

the violet arrow had shot out at him, twisting around his right gauntlet and crushing inwards. it’d snaked around him without him noticing, slithering along his back. 

bakugou struggled to get the air-light arrow off his wrist, but it was no use. he glared back, only to see your focused, furrowed brows. he’d expected to see your cocky ass smiling. it was nice to see you weren’t. 

that was one thing that had also caught his eye. you never underestimate your opponent, but you never underestimate yourself, either. 

you conjured a larger arrow. it snaked around your right arm as you hurled bakugou into the air, releasing your grasp on him. you shot your other arrow into the air, and it raced into the sky. 

it swerved. bakugou’s eyes went wide as the tip of the arrow came down on his chest. if they weren’t intangible things, he would have been bleeding out. 

another drawback: the arrows, while they could solidify, they couldn’t do any actual damage. you had to use your surroundings to inflict harm on your opponent. 

he coughed out as the arrow shot him into the ground. he hadn’t even touched you, and here he was, vulnerable and so...so... 

you stood over him, hands on your hips. 

vulnerable and so lost in that adorable, winning smile. 

“get away from me, idiot,” he grunted and turned onto his side, his back crying out in pain. 

“i think i won this fight, bakugou,” you chirped, rocking on your heels. 

“don’t get arrogant, shithead. you won’t be winning against me anymore.” 

you grinned, arrows shooting out behind your back. 

- 

the dorms were exceptionally quiet. you were typing away in the common room, bakugou on the couch reading. everyone was off doing something else. it was the weekend, luckily. he’d expected you to go bounding out with everyone else, however you’d stayed back, claiming you had some homework to catch up on. 

bakugou being classic bakugou had stayed back. he was excited to have the dorm to himself, but your dumbass was stuck here with him. couldn’t you have done your typing in your room? 

you were so aggressive on that poor keyboard. 

“oi, quiet down with your shit typing.” 

you barely grunted in response. 

“don’t ignore me.” 

“i heard you, mom.” 

“the hell did you call me?” 

no response. only your aggressive typing is a bit less aggressive. 

“i can still hear it,” bakugou remarked, eyes fixed on your back. 

“‘kay,” you said. your typing slowed a tad, and your pressure on the keys lessened. 

it was quiet now. bakugou should go back to his book. he shouldn’t still be looking for a reason to talk to you. 

the pages crinkled in his fingers. he bit his tongue, keeping his snarky comments in. 

“you’re a fucking idiot, you know that? doing your damn homework. it’s due tomorrow.” 

you turned, pursing your lips. “and how would you know what i’m working on? are you stalking me?” 

“i- what? no. you’re such an idiot, of course i’m not—” 

“i’m messing with you,” you breathed, face un-moving. 

“o-oh,” bakugou stuttered out. he blinked awkwardly. 

“gosh, what’s gotten your panties in a twist?” 

“you’re annoying.” 

“you’re a jackass.” you returned to your work. bakugou settled with reading in his room. reading consisted of jumping onto his bed just as the stereotypical high school girl would in an eighties movie. he buried his face in his pillow, face burning bright red. he cursed you for making him feel this way, and hated himself even more for how much he enjoyed it. 

- 

the next day came swiftly. you’d left early to go train with midoriya. there were many improvements needed to be made, but you weren’t doing too bad.

you propelled yourself forwards with an arrow, and your green-haired friend shot back, lightning flickering around his body. 

landing back on the ground, you panted and swiped the sweat from your brow. from the corner of your eye, you could make out both kirishima and bakugou coming to the training grounds. 

bakugou stopped in his tracks, frowning at the sight of you. 

it was evident he hated you a bit more than everyone else. he was always making his annoying comments, he was always snubbing you. you saw no reason to talk to him, so you didn’t. either way, even if you tried, he would still get angry for no reason. 

it’d taken you quite some time to get used to his obnoxious attitude. tuning him out had been the best course of action, in your opinion. 

the way you and midoriya had bonded was through bakugou, in a way. the first day of school, bakugou had snapped at you for tripping over your laces and nearly crashing into him. later that day, midoriya had stepped up and apologized for his old friend’s actions. 

you two had never been too close until now. the recent incidents going on with the league of villains had snagged your attention, and it seemed you were the only person who didn’t mind listening to him ramble on about heroes. 

you were just as passionate and just as dorky, but midoriya could talk your ear off. you never minded, and he always took the hint when you didn’t want to listen. 

you brought your leg up, twirling in the air with ease and watched your heel collide with midoriya’s face. he grunted, stumbling back. 

you were about to charge in again when a hand landed on your shoulder, big and rough. you turned to see bakugou standing behind you, a scowl on his face. 

“fight me again,” he demanded. 

“excuse me?” 

“don’t act like you didn’t hear me.” 

“i’m in the middle of fighting midoriya right now.” 

“so?”

“so if you think that i’m just going to ditch my friend because you want to fight, i won’t.” 

“you’re being stubborn.” 

“i’m being reasonable. back off.” 

“y/n?” midoriya rubbed his jaw—right where you had struck him. “what’s going on?” he jogged up to you and bakugou. 

“he wants to fight me in the middle of our fight. it’s nothing serious. don’t worry about it, midoriya. let’s just ignore him.” 

bakugou made a sound someone would only make if they were choking. “the hell did you just say?” 

“we’re ignoring you!” you waved him off and placed your hand on midoriya’s shoulder, wandering away. 

-

it was new to him, not getting what he wanted. and what he wanted right now was to be around you. again, it wasn’t like he would ever admit that to himself. 

“dude? you good? i thought you went off to fight y/n. i was so ready to cheer you on, dude,” kirishima’s chipper voice piped in. “she’s not fighting with you? why not?” 

“the dumbass was just probably scared of getting her ass beat by me.” 

“dude...that sounds really weird.” 

“whatever, shitty hair. let’s go.” 

- 

the clock ticked. his ears were on fire. again. 

gosh, it was happening again. it was all you. his face scrunched up, his voice would surely crack if someone were to ask him what was wrong. 

bakugou was once again stuffing his face in his pillow, hiding his expression from no one. why did you have to go train with that shitty nerd? why were you always around deku? deku, of all people. what did he have? why was he so great? 

bakugou was a man of many insecurities, but losing to deku? that was possibly his biggest fear. 

perhaps he wasn’t the nicest, or the most soft person out there. bakugou could admit that, at least. but he was smarter than deku. he was stronger and he was better and people liked him more. right? 

what was so...amazing about deku? 

it was often bakugou would find himself obsessing over little, insignificant things such as these. 

you were what he was thinking of most of the time. just yesterday, he’d gotten a test returned. he was expecting an eighty at the lowest, but more so expecting a high ninety. it’d come back exactly sixty percent. 

sixty. percent.

bakugou vividly remembered staring at your face. he also remembered not being able to focus because of it. his grades were dropping because of you. 

you were the only person to be able to do this to him. 

his heart grew quiet, but the pounding of his didn’t cease. he lifted his head. 

“alright, fine,” he said aloud. “you win, y/n. you win.” 

he settled with getting over his feelings the way he’d read them in his collection of romance manga. 

bakugou left his room and knocked on your door. (he was banging on it, but it was his nice way of knocking.) 

you answered, looking around awkwardly. “yes?” 

his hands shook. how was this supposed to go? sure, he’d seen it in romance movies and read it in books but it was always easy to tell whether the guy would get the girl or not. 

in this instance, bakugou was clueless. for once in his life, he was clueless. you stood, tapping your foot with a hand on your hip, waiting expectantly for him to tell you why he was here. 

“um.” he scratched behind his neck. “you uh- i uh...i’m sorry i called you a, um...a shitface.” 

“okay? is that it?” 

what? come on! it was already unlike him to apologize. what else did you want from him? 

“did you...i’ve been thinking, maybe? maybe we could..train together as...friends?”  

“...what?” 

gosh dammit, as friends? 

“whatever, um...the uh...” oh gosh, what did the boys do in all the books he’d read? right! bakugou stretched out his arm, resting his forearm on the door, leaning to the side. 

although he didn’t, really, because like the clumsy jackass he was, bakugou missed completely and nearly toppled to the floor. 

this earned a snicker from you. 

his stomach flipped and churned, and bakugou found himself unable to reach your eyes. “uh, would you maybe..? okay, um. do you want to go on a date with me? you absolute fucking dumbass.” 

your eyes flew wide. “...what?” 

“no, that’s not what i— i mean i didn’t mean the last part. um, i meant the first part. the first two parts. the part where i was asking you if you wanted to go on a date with me and then before that when i said maybe because it’s still a maybe until you say yes. or...or no because that’s an option too.” 

he swallowed. 

you resisted the urge to mock him, just a little bit. “um, bakugou, listen.” 

he leaned closer. “yes?” 

“it’s going to be a no. i’m sorry, but i’m just not interested in you like that.” 

it took him a moment to register everything. his shoulders sagged. gosh that was brutal. 

“oh, alright.” 

“yeah, uh, sorry about that.” you offered him a weak smile, still a bit shocked yourself. he did his best to return it, and when you closed the door, his face was ready to explode. 

it was so damn difficult to deal with these feelings, but maybe it was better this way. knowing where you stood on your end, he knew he wouldn’t miss out on anything. 

perhaps it was alright to admire from afar. things could happen in the future, right? 

right now, he’d just wait. for a long, long time. bakugou pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat. maybe it was alright to not have you right now. perhaps he could better himself for you. just for you. 

[flurrys-creativity]

Okay so I’m the anon that’s ask if your are comfortable doing a cheating fic and also the same one that ask for the sehun fic too 🙈 btw it was really good and I love it lost thank you.

Okay so the fic will be for sehun 🤫 we’re like he’s Been cheating on his girlfriend with y/n and it’s been going on for a couple of months now and one day sehuns girlfriend walks in on them having sex like reader is riding sehun on the couch and when his girlfriend walks she starts yelling and than she hits y/n so that’s when sehun gets mad and confess to his girlfriend about their affair. And also reader didn’t know he was in a relationship. with a happy end pls 🥺

I dearly hope I got the right interpretation of happy end now :D Anyway! I wrote it already!!!!(the power of me procrastinating on every other project AND work :D )

I hope you like it!

Cheat Code

Pairing: Oh Sehun (EXO) x Fem!Reader; Genre: Drama, Romance, Slice of life, Cheating AU, somewhat Established Relationship AU; Rating: nsfw, 18+; Warnings: unprotected sex, riding, kissing, slight breast play, getting caught, a furious woman, reader getting slapped, reader getting called a slut more than once and a whore, Sehun pushing said furious woman, feeling heartbroken and betrayed, showering, nudity; Wordcount: 2. 364

Summary: You were having the time of your life with Sehun when suddenly his girlfriend walked in on you two and chaos ensued.

You bit down on your lower lip, the drag of his dick inside your walls made you delirious. A moan escaped your lips when he thrusted into you, disrupting your slow and sensual pace. “If you wanted to fuck me, you shouldn’t have begged me to ride you”, you told him, brushing strands of hair out of his face.

“Couldn’t help myself”, he grinned and tightened his hold on your hips, thrusting harshly into you once more.

“Such a tease.” You leaned down and kissed him, grinning just like him. You didn’t care whether he took control or you had to take the lead. As long as you were together with him, you were content with anything.

You met Sehun at a coffee shop months ago and both of you were star struck the minute you two locked eyes with each other. At first you two only met for a regular coffee but soon enough the tension between you grew big enough that you had brought him home with you. Ever since you met each other as often as possible, sharing woes and worries, eating out together or simply enjoying the time you spent together. 

So when Sehun texted you he had an especially rough day, you promised to come over as soon as you were done with work. The minute he opened his door, he pulled you against his toned body and kissed you deeply, sighing softly as his hands ran over your body. You had giggled but played along nonetheless. 

That’s how you found yourself riding him on the couch in the middle of the living room. You had exchanged your shirt with his button up, leaving his upper body bare. Your hands glided over his pecs and toned muscles, your mouth salivating with the wonderful view he gave you.

His hand brushed over your skin as he moved it from your hip to your breast, cupping it with his large hand and pressing kisses on it through the fabric of his button up. “You look stunning in my clothes”, he whispered and nosed over the bare skin between your breasts.

You closed your eyes and threw your head back, letting yourself fall with his soft ministrations. A stark contrast to his harsh thrusts into you. Though you wouldn’t complain with all the attention and love he gave you. With Sehun you felt worshipped.

Sehun looked up at you, smiling softly when your eyes met. You made him feel alive, even on days where everything went wrong. You only had to hug him - no, even a smile was enough for him - to feel better and stronger than before, ready to fight again. His hands wandered to your back and shoulders, pulling your whole body down on his dick, locking you there while he thrusted harshly into you. Sehun’s eyes never left your face, seeing how it twisted in pleasure and how moans and whines fell from your lips with each thrust.

You stilled when you opened your eyes again, seeing someone standing in the doorway to the living room. You stared at the woman with wide eyes. Your mind was still clouded with lust and the confusion that spread through your body didn’t help you with reacting to her.

The woman stood there just as still, staring at you and Sehun. When he finally realised that something was wrong and turned his head towards her, she broke out of her stupor. Her nostrils flared in anger and an ear piercing scream filled the apartment. 

She stormed over to you and before either of you were able to react, the woman slapped you right across the face.

Tears sprung into your eyes and the skin on your cheek stung from the impact. Your body automatically reacted with your hand touching your burning cheek in shock. 

She was about to hit you again, when you pushed yourself away from Sehun and stumbled away from the woman, bringing a safe distance between the both of you. Your eyes shortly dropped towards Sehun, who looked equally stunned, before they shot back up to the woman.

You saw tears streaming down her cheeks, fury burning in her eyes while she screamed profanities at you.

Slowly you recovered from the first shock and pulled Sehun’s shirt close in front of your body, hiding your nudity. Your eyes flicked between that woman and Sehun until your brain finally decided to listen to the words the woman was spewing.

“HOW COULD YOU?!?? HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN CHEATING ON ME? WHO IS THAT SLUT? WHY AREN’T YOU ANSWERING ME? Sehun, baby!!! Please! Say something! Explain yourself!” Her screams turned down into whaling as she sat down next to Sehun and grabbed his upper arm, shaking it violently while she sobbed loudly.

“What do you mean by cheating?” You asked, confused with her antics. Your gaze shifted towards Sehun once again, who stared blankly into the distance the horror painted on his face.

The woman jumped up again upon hearing your voice, pointing a manicured nail at you. “I am his girlfriend! What are you doing with my boyfriend? How can you live with yourself knowing he has a doting girlfriend?”

You stared at her in disbelief, needing several moments before your gaze dropped to Sehun, waiting for him to say something - hoping for him to deny those words.

“HOW DARE YOU LOOK AT HIM?!” The woman screeched and lunged herself forward again, ready to attack you with her long nails.

You stepped back again, bringing the small couch table between you and her. Even if her accusations were right, you wouldn’t accept her slapping you again. Once was more than enough for you and definitely uncalled for since you had no idea.

“I didn’t know about you!” You shouted back at her, trying to reach that woman over her screaming.

“DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT ME? WE’RE WEARING MATCHING NECKLACES WITH OUR NAMES!” She grabbed the golden necklaces and showed it to you, pointing at Sehun’s name with her other hand. “How could you slut destroy our relationship?!”

You weren’t able to answer her when Sehun suddenly stood up and placed his hand on her shoulder, turning her towards him with an ice cold gaze. He had pulled his pants back up, leaving him only shirtless.

You felt like vomiting when you saw her hands wandering over his chest in a desperate plea. You tried to ignore her and focused on Sehun instead, wanting to hear what he had to say.

“It’s over between us.” His eyes held absolutely no emotion towards that woman and he slowly pushed her away from his body, not wanting her to touch him like that.

“Over?! OVER? How could you say that now? Please, let us talk when that slut isn’t clouding your mind!”

“Don’t call her that!” Sehun pushed her away, this time more harshly, ignoring her outcry while she stumbled backwards. “I fell out of love with you for a long time now. Even before I met Y/N. I’m sorry I dragged it out. I should have said something sooner.”

“Said something sooner?” You spoke up this time, looking at him in disbelief. “What do you mean by sooner? Before we started seeing each other, before we started dating or before we started having sex?” Instead of waiting for an answer you scoffed and walked around the room to pick your clothes up.

“Yeah, get lost, you whore!”

You ignored her statement, too caught up in your own thoughts. You felt like a robot with how stiff you moved around to get dressed again, only stopping in your movements when Sehun grabbed you by your shoulders. You looked up at him, feeling the tears rimming at the corner of your eyes.

“Stay”, he whispered softly, brushing a lonely tear away from your cheek. “Please.”

“Do you have any idea how used I feel right now?” Your voice cracked at the end of your question even though you didn’t speak above a whisper yourself.

Sehun shook his head. “I can only imagine. But I beg of you to stay. Please let me explain myself.”

Your mind told you to leave and take the longest and hottest shower as soon as possible, while your heart begged you to listen to him. It begged you to stay with him, begged you to ask him for a tight hug, wanting nothing more than to be held by his strong arms. You closed your eyes, contemplating your options before you sighed deeply. “I’ll take a shower”, you said in resignation and turned away from Sehun, walking towards his bathroom. Out of the corner of your eyes you saw the girlfriend fuming, ready to spew more profanities if it weren’t for Sehun’s cold voice grabbing her attention.

You couldn’t and didn’t want to listen to their conversation, undressing yourself and stepping into the shower, turning the handle to scorching hot and waiting for the water to burn your sins from your skin.

If you had known he had a girlfriend you wouldn’t have slept with him, wouldn’t have met with him. At least you tried telling yourself that, knowing full well you would have tried everything to be with him nonetheless. After all, you loved him with all your heart and soul. You watched the water run down your body and down the drain, caught up in your thoughts and self loathing. You wondered how you were able to be that blind, not noticing that he had a girlfriend already. You even tried to remember whether he wore a golden necklace the first time you two met but nothing sparked your memory.

“Y/N?”

You looked up to see Sehun’s shadow on the other side of the shower curtain. He nervously played with his fingers and stepped from one foot to another. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know”, you answered him in a monotonous voice. You felt empty and confused, angry and maybe even heartbroken or desperate, though you didn’t want to get even lower with your pride.

“May I come in?”

You stared at Sehun’s shadow, momentarily confused with what he meant until you saw him strip out of his pants and step into the shower, hissing when the hot water hit his skin. You continued to stare at him, almost listlessly while he adjusted the heat of the water and finally turned towards you, looking at you with worried eyes.

“I’m sorry to have put you in such a situation. She’s gone now and she returned my keys as well and I broke up with her now and, and, and… I’m sorry.”

You hummed lowly, not feeling like actively engaging in that conversation. You didn’t even know why you stayed in the first place.

“It was already over with her when we started seeing each other. I was just caught up with my love for you and obviously extremely dumb because I didn’t break up with her completely. We were on a break when I met you because it wasn’t quite peachy between the both of us. I didn’t see her or anything, I honestly forgot that we were technically still together.”

“How could you forget something like that?” Your voice sounded off, as if it didn’t belong to you anymore. The tone was harsh and unforgiving, slashing Sehun’s attempts of apologising immediately.

“I don’t know. It’s dumb. I just didn’t think about it.” He ran his fingers through his wet hair, pushing it out of his face - an obvious indicator how distressed he felt. His eyes met yours, the pain vivid in them as he searched for any emotion in yours. “Please”, he begged, unsure what exactly he begged for.

“You lied to me”, you whispered, a sob breaking through your lips and tears mixing with the water of the shower. “How can I trust you again when you lied to me?”

“I’m sorry”, he said and pulled you against his chest, hugging you tightly while you sobbed into his arms. “I’m so so sorry.” He apologised over and over again, simply holding you and waiting until you calmed down. “I promise I won’t lie to you ever again! I love you, Y/N, I love you so so much. Please, please forgive me.”

You listened to his beating heart and the water dropping on your bodies. You raised your hands, placing one on your own chest and the other on his, comparing your heartbeats with each other. “I love you too”, you whispered almost inaudibly, new tears streaming down your face. Even though you felt hurt, you still loved him. You looked up at Sehun, blinking through the water to see his face. 

He looked pained and worried, his arms wrapped tightly around you as if he feared you might push him away at any second.

“I need a new start”, you said loudly enough for him to hear, seeing how the hope in his eyes crashed and his shoulders dropped with despair. “I want to scratch everything and forget about this - especially what happened today.”

“I understand.”

“No, you don’t.” Your voice was stern and you knew your gaze was way too serious for your next words. “I love you and I want a new start. A start with no lies or secrets. I need a clean start. Let me fall in love with you again.” You took a deep breath, thinking over your options once more, hoping you were making the right call. “Tomorrow”, you caught Sehun’s eyes and made sure he followed each of your words, “I’ll be at the café ready to be bumped into by the love of my life and start going on dates with him.”

Sehun looked at you, needing a moment to process your words, before he broke into a teary grin, thanking you over and over again. He hid his face in the crook of your neck, shaking violently from his relieved cries.

You snaked your arms around his neck and hugged him just as tightly, softly stroking over his hair while humming a soothing melody. You loved him and despite his grave mistake you would continue to love him until you took your last breath.

© all rights reserved  

Taglist: @xavi-in-kpopland

[hansolmates]

a hero’s journey (m)

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

prompt used: “I should’ve known.”

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

It’s so easy to ignore the world. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe a little too well. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wow. So that explains everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Understandable.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But honestly? Fuck Jisoo. 

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

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

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

“Sounds good, thanks Joonie.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nevermind, get out of my apartment.” 

“Uh, this is my apartment.” 

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

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

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

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

“Remember Jeon Jungkook? Majored in graphic design.”

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

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

A pause. And then, “Want a beer?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re running away.” 

“Am not.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, yeah.” 

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

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

“You miss her?” 

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

“Did you talk about it?” 

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

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

“And are you trying to get over him?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

“But it works!” 

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

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

“Bumble.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or are you? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? I can pay for my own food—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I allowed to state my opinion?” 

“Since you asked so politely, no.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, he’s your fuck buddy then?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Namjoon holds out his hand, “Hand.” 

“No—”

“Hand.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pizza also sounds good—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do I want to know?”

“No.” 

“Do you want me to leave?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m home, Jungkookie!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

vernie bernie: or a tickle to my pickle? 

vernie bernie: beatin ya bean? 

You: ohmyGOD 

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

You: call. Ill come after dinner

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey Pretty Girl–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only recently,” you frown. 

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

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

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

“Because I wanted to protect you!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you still love him?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey Pretty Girl—

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

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

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

Hopefully yours, Jungkook

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’cha got there, partner?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey Pretty Boy...

Jungkook and Jisoo are no longer together, evidently. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi: come inside, u loser. 

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

You: dw i’ll wait, it’s only 11:50

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—coming along?” 

“Wha?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mean by what?” 

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

“Well, we’re here now, right?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook,” you whine, “read mine.” 

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

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

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

“I’m on page eighty-three.” 

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

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

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

“Yes ma’am.” 

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

“I wish you did, too.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook…” 

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

“Jungkook—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

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

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

“Please, baby.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

some time later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then the hotel room?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

“You know I love you, right?” 

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

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

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

“You’re terrible.” 

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

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

[anxious2dsimp]

Haikyuu Dads celebrating Mother's Day | Osamu, Iwaizumi, & Kuroo

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡*✧･ﾟ:˚۰˚☽˚｡･:

Pairings: Osamu x Reader, Iwaizumi x reader, Kuroo x Reader.

Flavor: Fluffy af bby ☁️

Reader: Female Mother!Reader

Format: Drabbles (1.1k words total)

Warnings: None, just fluffy mom (y/n) enjoying her lovely family.

A/N: Mother's Day just really sent me into a Haikyuu dads brainrot and these scenarios have been stuck in my head all day. Enjoy!

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡*✧･ﾟ:˚۰˚☽˚｡･:

Osamu

You tried to stifle your giggles as you sat at your home’s dining room table, the sound of childish bickering and hushed laughter coming from behind the closed kitchen door. “I’ll take the plates, you take the flowers,” the voice of one of your little boys demanded. “Nuh, uh! S’ my turn to take the food, I pwomise I won’t dwop it,” the youngest of the two boys replied while you could hear your husband’s quiet snorts in the background. Your face of surprise was ready when the door swung open a few seconds later to reveal your two sons holding onto either side of a plate, your husband standing behind them keeping an eye on them and the food so it got soundly to where you sat. Osamu and you exchanged a soft smile at the sight of your two boys working together with a concentrated pout that reminded you of their father’s as they slowly brought the food over. Heart-shaped onigiris of your favorite flavor plated with sesame seeds forming a smiley face were placed in front of you, the oldest smiling proudly as he boasted about how they made them themselves. You ruffled their hair and congratulated both boys who beamed at your comment on how they were greater cooks than their father. The cook in question sharing a knowing grin with you, both aware that in reality, he had made all the bases while the kids ensembled the shapes. “Happy Mother’s Day!” The two kids hugged you tightly in your chair, climbing onto you as you hug them back, feeling your heart swell with pride at what your husband and you had created. “Happy Mother’s Day,” Osamu said as he walked over to you, his lazy smirk paired with eyes full of love as his rough hand lifted your chin to capture your lips in a kiss. “Eww get a woom!” the youngest one exclaimed, as the older one made gagging sounds, you and your husband breaking apart to share a surprised look as you both chuckled, trying to figure out where the little boy learned that, probably uncle Atsumu. That Sunday at home, as you shared lunch with your three favorite people in the world to celebrate, all you felt was warmth.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡*✧･ﾟ:˚۰˚☽˚｡･:

Iwaizumi

Your eyes fluttered open at the feeling of your husband’s side of the bed being empty like it usually was early in the mornings, when he went for his run or cooked a healthy breakfast. He had kept this up even since the birth of your little girl, making it a bonding moment between them as he brought her energetic self along. Hajime knew how much effort it took to keep up with work and motherhood along with so many other things, so he loved sharing time with her daughter with the added bonus of it giving you a well-deserved rest. The sound of the bedroom door opening woke you from the gentle slumber you didn’t realize took over you to see your shirtless husband with your 8-month-old daughter babbling happily on one arm, both bathed in the warm sunlight of that beautiful Friday morning. Looking at where your daughter was reaching for before her familiar olive eyes landed on you, you were surprised to find a tray with a fruit smoothie and an omelet along with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. An amused smile appeared on your lips as you raised an eyebrow at Hajime as a form of a silent question. “Happy Mother’s Day,” he said, his voice still groggy and laced with sleep mindfully soft as to not to disturb the peace and quiet that enveloped the three of you like a spell, a love-sick smile on his face. “It’s today? Aww, thank you Haji,” you said wholeheartedly, the idea of this being the first of many years to come celebrating Mother’s Day making you teary-eyed as your husband put down the tray beside you. Giving you a peck, he hummed happily as he delicately took your daughter’s hands and waved them as he exclaimed in his baby talk voice; “happy first Mother’s Day mom, dad thought we should make it memorable.” You giggled at your husband’s antics, which nobody would guess considering his tough exterior. You and your daughter were and would always be his soft spot.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡*✧･ﾟ:˚۰˚☽˚｡･:

Kuroo

A huff escaped your lips at the weight of two small bodies landing on top of you on the couch, they had managed to sneak up on you as you were immersed in your laptop propped up in the table in front of you. You and your husband had taken that Tuesday afternoon off to celebrate Mother’s Day, Tetsurou going to pick up your daughter and son from school as you headed home and wait for them there. Between huffs and breathy laughs, the two kids wished you a happy Mother’s Day for a second time that day, and you managed to thank them before you felt a much heavier body pile on top of you three. “Daaad!” The eldest son groaned playfully as he tried to push of your husband who was carefully putting down part of his body weight on all of you. “You’re heavy,” your little girl whined between giggles as she tried to shield herself in your grasp. “Am I heavy or are you three just weak?” You could hear Kuroo’s knowledgeable smirk in his voice, the same one you fell in love with, as you scoffed dramatically in response. “We’re stronger than you Mr. Know-it-all,” you said in a sing-song voice as you started pushing your husband off of you, him only allowing you to when his two kids joined him. Once you had all calmed down you hugged your children and thanked them for the colorful cards and macaroni frames they put all their efforts into making at school. “My turn,” your husband exclaimed with his mouth full as he placed down his slice of cake and plopped down next to you, pulling out a small bag from behind the couch. Inside was a necklace locket, that you opened to reveal a picture of the four of you. “Tetsu, it’s beautiful, thank you,” you said as you hugged him tightly, yet you both knew you weren’t just thanking him for the thoughtful gift, but also for the wonderful life that you had created together. “No, thank you,” he replied, his tone genuine and filled with love as your kids pouted. You spent the rest of the afternoon spending quality time as a family and reassuring your two kids that their gifts were better than their father’s, who cheered them up with his “infamous” science puns, as he liked to say.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡*✧･ﾟ:˚۰˚☽˚｡･:

Pls I'm too soft for this😭 hmu with your thoughts and requests! <3

[reedalert]

Intricacies

Request: "22-give me a brush I'll fix your hair "pls with the mr data x reader

Requested by: anon

Prompt: 22. “Give me a brush. I’ll fix your hair for you.”

Word count: 690

Notes/warnings: fluff all the waaaay. Sorry for taking this long, I'm really rusty and I just want these to be good for y'all!

Whoever said night shifts were boring and uneventful, would usually be right. Not this time, however.

You had recently been selected as the night watch command officer of the Enterprise. It was a privilege, of course, but it also meant your days were the exact reverse of most of your friends' days. As you were walking back to your quarters, exhausted, you always met your cheerful coworkers, fuelled by their morning coffee.

The only person who knew no day or night, who occasionally accompanied you on the bridge during your time there was Data, who, of course, didn't need to sleep.

It was one of those times where he sat next to you that the "boring" night shift didn't live up to its reputation. Patrolling the edge of the Neutral Zone had its fair share of dangers, however these days you managed to stay clear of them. Not this time, however.

A Romulan warbird unexpectedly showed up on the viewscreen. Sensors started beeping. Your heart-rate shot up.

"Red alert!" you shouted, standing up from your seat.

You looked at Data with concern, he glared back with a quizzical expression. If you didn't know better, you'd have said he was just as confused as you.

"Hail them!" you ordered.

The only response you got was a disruptor beam into one of your nacelles.

You avoided damage to the best of your abilities until the Captain and the senior officers reached the Bridge. A brief sense of relief flowed through you, the safety of the ship and crew was no longer in your hands.

Once the threat was dealt with, you were officially relieved from your shift and you returned to your quarters. It was then that you could stand in front of a mirror and see yourself.

You were exhausted, disheveled, both physically and mentally. The image the mirror showed you reflected just that. Your hair was all over the place, tangled, frizzed. Dark circles loomed under your eyes. You couldn't stop thinking about what happened.

The chime of the door pulled you out of you contemplative state.

"Come in." you managed to sigh.

Data stepped through the door. You watched him scan the room, searching for you, only to find you in the bathroom.

"Hello." you greeted him weakly.

"I am sorry for intruding. I came to check if you are doing well after the events today." He stated emotionlessly.

You your lips curled into a smile that was barely there.

"I appreciate it, Data. I'm doing fine."

He watched you as you touched your hair, trying to fit the stray strands back to their place.

“Give me a brush. I will fix your hair for you. With your permission.” he came closer to you.

You nodded wordlessly, picking up a hairbrush from your bathroom counter and handing it to him. You jumped up on the counter. He was still a slight bit taller than you, so he could reach you easily.

The next minutes were spent in content silence. Between you and Data, barely any words needed to be exchanged to communicate. Sure, the android wasn't the best at non-verbal signs and social cues, but he'd learned your behaviour so well, that he could predict your every move. You were also particularly fond of him, fascinated by his complexities and his desire to be human. Needless to say, you two were a peculiar duo, sharing an unspoken bond.

When he was done, he waited for you to admire his work before asking:

"Is my recreation of your signature hairstyle accurate?"

"Are you kidding me, Data? This is perfect. I couldn't have done it better myself."

"I had the chance to study the intricacies of your physical appearance while working with you on the night shift."

That sentence would've sounded crazy coming from anyone else but him. With Data, it made perfect sense. In his own way, he cared about you deeply and this gesture was meant to show the android's "emotions" towards you.

You turned your back towards the mirror and leaned in to kiss him.

[allari-ammayi]

Rain | Pt. 1 《Varsham》 D. Shekar

☆Danny Shekar x Fem! OC☆

Synopsis: Having never exchanged words despite their obvious romantic tension, the younger sister of 'Bheemla Nayak', Durga, and his enemy, Danny Shekar, are strandered alone at a bus stop during an hours' long rain fall, left together and start to feel an obvious spark. 《Pt. 1, 2.2k Words》

Note: First post, very excited, and yes, I know my writing is very bad, but trust me, I'll get better!! Anyway, massive smash to the loml. Pls tell me I wasn't the only one violently simping over Danny from the moment he appeared on screen. Btw, this is the OC version of this fic, if you would like to read the y/n version, it will be available on my y/n masterlist page! ALSO, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 》 By interacting with my works or posts, you agree to be exposed to my content and are confirming that you are willingly reading my writing!!

“The rain was unexpected- Just like us. But instead of embracing it, we ran from it. Over and over until we got tired and relented to our yearning desires for each other.”

The duo repeated this very phrase to each other every single night when the moon hung low on the starry night and their windows were wide open to let the fresh breeze of the night sky in as they cuddled together under their silken sheets.

One night it was Durga and the other it was Danny. But it was always the same. The rain was unexpected. Just like them, but instead of embracing it, they ran from it. Over and over until they got tired and relented to their yearning desire for each other.

It was a sort of weird comfort to them. A grateful reminder to thank that one sudden summer rain that brought the two together in the first place.

But some nights, the duo thought over and even reconsidered a little, was it really the rain that brought them together in the first place or was it Durga’s brother, the famous ‘Bheemla Nayaak’, who just so happened to be Danny’s number-one rival and vice versa.

But whatever it was, boy were they glad it happened. That night was the same, Danny and Durga were lying on their shared bed of their home, surrounded by a comforting homey feeling. A feeling of belonging and comfort.

Durga’s back was pressed against Danny’s chest as his arms were secured around her smaller body, his fingers fidgeting with strands of Durga’s hair. No words needed to be exchanged between the two to confirm their safety and love in the relationship.

All they needed was each other’s presence and all else was set into place by itself. Their love was enough to fill the room up.

But of course, it wasn’t always like this. It never starts like this and ends well. Maybe that’s why Danny and Durga’s futures were so secure and well-tied together. Because they had a rocky start.

Because the first thing they witnessed of each other was their worst. Because they accepted each other’s worsts and embraced them, rather than finding out about them later in the relationship and seeing them as deal-breakers.

For Durga, when she first saw Danny, all she could remember of him was his arrogance. His rotten wealth. His disgusting attitude. His shameless disobedience of rules. His horrid way of getting his way with his money. And of course, her brother’s loathing for him. And of course, even she hated him at the start. As far as hating someone simply because of their sibling’s hatred for them goes.

For Danny, when he first saw Durga, he was initially mesmerised by her. She looked magical. Half drenched in the dark night’s rain as she stumbled into the police station where Danny was being held for travelling across state borders with restricted amounts of alcohol. He stared at her with semi-wide eyes.

Maybe it was a trick of his sleepy daze or the hallucinogenic lick of alcohol still simmering on his lips because only a second later, it disappeared and was replaced with a dreadful annoyance.

But this only happened when Durga entered the station, looking towards the one person who Danny wanted to stab the life out of, simply for existing and called him ‘Annaya’ {Trans. ‘Older brother’}.

Then, he saw some more negative traits in her. They didn’t exactly make her a bad person, but they made Danny feel a somewhat weird emotion towards her. What do they call it? Hatred? Loath? Disgust? No. That’s right. It was pity. Pity’s a rare feeling to come from Danny, so when it came, it was definitely something special.

The more Danny saw her, the more he noticed them. And the longer he observed her, from afar of course, the more he knew why.

And the more he observed, the more pity he felt for her.

Her over-obedience. Her pitiful submissiveness. Her pride, or rather a lack-there-of. Her dependence on the male figure in her life. Her inability to stand up for herself.

But the longer Danny harboured his animosity for Bheem, the more he realised that none of this was Durga’s fault, but rather came from the way she was raised. The way she ran her brother’s errands for him, bringing him his lunch boxes and his tea, needing him to drive her to places and back home. She was basically his shadow. Never her own person, with her own feelings, responsibilities or opinions.

Durga was almost always around Bheem, which meant that Danny and Durga saw each other far more than they wished, but the two never exchanged words. Merely stolen, short glances towards each other or the few seconds of awkward eye contact they would share occasionally.

It became almost a routine for Danny to hope to coincidentally bump into her during his next antic with Bheem. She was practically his driving force to constantly torture him. His small hope that the next time he and Bheem cross paths due to his latest plan, he’d have Durga trailing behind him. So he and Durga could share a few more seconds' worth of eye contact with mixed meanings and cloudy intentions.

But one evening changed it all. It changed their entire dynamic and it changed the way their entire worlds moved. It changed the way their feelings danced and it changed the way the other perceived the world.

Durga, who took it upon herself to run home for another one of Bheem’s silly little errands for her, and Danny who had successfully gotten himself lost in the dry land and borders of the forest collided for the first time. Not literally, but almost.

Durga, who was practically out of breath from all the running in her not-so-comfortable footwear and Danny who had been roaming the area for hours, frustrated and dying of dehydration crossed paths when Durga finally gave up running, dropped her palms to her knees and huffed for breath like there was no tomorrow.

Danny only caught sight of her when he roughly shoved some stray long dry grass out of his face as he exited the maze of madness, still lost as ever, being new to the area. He looked around desperately to find something or someone to help him, but when he caught sight of the out-of-breath Durga who was pink in the face and clearly tired from running, he felt his heart physically jump.

He didn’t exactly know why, he’d never felt this way before. Maybe it was because he and the girl had never been alone together. Previously, on every occasion that they were together, there was always her brother in between them nagging about justice and his job and what-not. But why would he even feel this way in the first place?

It’s not like he felt anything for her. But maybe it was because of the countless hours that he thought of her even when unnecessary. The hours he spent laying on his bed, initially only feeling pity for her, then starting to spend hours analysing her emotions and traits and why she does what she does before eventually spending more hours, laying on his bed, staring into the ceiling, thinking of nothing but her eyes. Her beautiful doe eyes.

But of course not! Danny shook his head to get those ridiculous thoughts out of his head. Danny spent the next few seconds, thinking of an actual, reasonable and proper reason, and came to the conclusion that he only felt a jump in his heart because he was worried that like always, the siblings would be together and where Durga was, so was Bheem.

And Danny couldn’t afford Bheem’s bitter satisfaction from Danny being so lost and helpless. Yes, of course! That’s the only reason! Or at least that’s what Danny said in a hopefully convincing manner. But who was he trying to convince? Himself? But still, even that thought bruised his ego a little. But still, this was the only idea that didn’t include some ridiculous fantasy about Durga. Danny watched as Durga regained her composure and landed her hands on hips or on her back, before she looked up at the sky.

Only then did Danny realise how creepy he looked, staring at a helpless girl, half-hidden in the tall bushes. Danny jumped out from the bushes, glad that Durga hadn’t spotted him yet and when Durga looked towards him and realised his presence, he folded his arms behind him and tilted his chin up in a better-than-you kind of way. The second Durga saw Danny walking around the bushes, she tensed up for a second, half-scared of the fact that he could have planned something related to her in hopes of attacking her brother and half for the same reason he was. Simply because they had never been along together.

Durga’s breath hitched when Danny began walking in her direction, looking as prideful and arrogant as ever. Danny gulped as he walked right past Durga, his eyes secretly trailing to the side of his face to catch a glimpse of her as he went. Durga twiddled with her thumbs and at the awkward moment between them, the heavens groaned and urged the two together with a little crazy weather. Unexpectedly and completely out of blue, the initially bright blazing sun was covered up by heavy and dark rain clouds, meaning that nothing good could come from this.

Durga looked up at the clouds and when she felt a soft kiss on her nose from raindrop, she felt her heart drop. She had no umbrella and she was miles away form home which meant it’d take her another half-an hour to get home, and that was if she ran.

The same was with Danny. He also didn’t have an umbrella. After-all, who could’ve predectied this weather?

“What-?” Danny let out as he wiped a raindrop off his forehead, the duo started to get worried, still exchanging no words. When the sudden sound of pitter-patter surrounded Danny and Durga, they turned to each other in mutual worry and Durga looked desperately around.

“Come, Follow me.” Durga said after a short consideration. She couldn’t escape the rain by herself and let Danny die out in the wet cold. He too was a human. A human that was hated by her older brother, but still a human. Bheem could have argued otherwise, but it didn’t matter.

Danny turned to Durga and when he saw her already sprinting away, he looked around before back at her.

“Hey-!” He called out reaching an arm out towards her, but Durga didn’t stop. Danny let out a sigh of frustration, raked his hair back with his fingers before he begrudgingly followed behind her.

“Just this way,” Durga said, lifting her voni a little as she ran.

“Do you even know where you’re going??” Danny asked her, struggling to keep up with the slippery little minx of a girl, Durga was.

Durga came to a sudden halt, and when Danny nearly crashed into the smaller girl, she threateningly pulled her index finger out at him and she narrowed her eys.

“Do you want to get drenched in the rain or do you want to get shelter?” She asked, her voice dangerously leaking with threats.

Danny was left speechless at this. Never once had he ever seen Durga this way. But then again, he never really saw her that much to begin with, but still. This was a true shock for the man.

“I- Uh- Yeah- Yeah, I want to- I want to get shelter.” Danny struggled out, stumbling over his words at the threatening smaller girl.

“Aithe noru musukoni ra. {Trans.: Then keep quiet and follow me.}” Danny automatically nodded, Durga’s sudden high demanding voice instantly taking control of him.

Within seconds, Durga led Danny straight to a tattered old bus stop. It was not at all what Danny had in mind, but he was willing to take whatever he could to get out of this rain even a little. The duo rushed to get under the shade, their clothes already damp from the early rain.

From the moment their skins were no longer being tapped on by the rain drops, Danny and Durga were both quick to start drying themselves the best they could.

The tattered bus stop consisted of just one, one and a half meter long bench with a shade that looked like it could fall apart any minute.

“This was the place you were talking about when you said shelter?” Danny asked, looking around before taking a seat. Durga opted to sit as far as she could, even willing to let half of her leg hang off the end of the bench if it meant putting some distance between her and Danny.

“Let me know if it isn’t up to your fancy posh tastes, and I can tear it apart in seconds,” Durga said, looking at the ground, and pulling her knees to her chest. “Then we can happily die out in the rain.” She added, quietly.

Danny rolled his eyes.

“It’s fine for now.”

“It will be. We just have to wait a few minutes, it’ll be gone and we can go our own ways.” If only it were that easy.

To Be Continued...

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 》 None yet!

Please reply to this post if you wish to be tagged in my future works, fics, and the next part to this story! :)

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

↝ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ: y/n pinning them against a wall - prompt inspired by this twitter post

↝ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: kuroo x f!reader + sakusa x f!reader 

↝ ᴡᴄ: kuroo - 1000+ sakusa - 900+ 

↝ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: swearing, aggressive behaviour-ish. 

↝ ᴀ/ɴ: I’ll be doing this prompt for Osamu, Akaashi and Yaku too soon ~ I just like it a bit too much haha. also I edited this 3 times so if there are still errors, I am sorry pls ignore. lmao. 

Kuroo Tetsurou

A low rhythmic hum vibrated inside of your throat, to accompany the track playing from your phone. Those who were fortunate enough to catch the melody trailing along with you, would often find a smile on their face. Between the tranquility of the sound and the bliss warping into your aura – your presence accidentally had an impact on many. Those in your university only knew you as the kind singer who would offer sincere smiles, free of cost. It was a reputation you did not mind adhering to – maybe it was better that they did not see the darker shades that coloured your soul. So, generally, a smile would remain sewn into your visage – unwavering until you were within the safety of your home. Where you could release the other parts of you that were deemed “not school friendly.”

Though, today your calculated barrier between the two worlds would disintegrate, due to the careless words of your best friend, Kuroo Tetsurou.

Upon reaching the corner that would connect you to the hallway where your class room was situated, you plucked out an earbud and placed it back into its case. Since this was a course you shared with Kuroo, the two of you held an uncommunicated agreement to wait for the other before entering the room. The thought of your close friend twisted a knot inside of your chest with threads of adoration, excitement and hope. It was quite clear that your relationship was not merely platonic. The issue was that neither of you had initiated the first step to test the boundaries.

But you would try today. You would try after class.

“So, what’s going on between you and l/n?”

Hearing your last name, you paused before switching hallways. How many other l/n’s were at the university? It was certainly a conversation about you. 

So the question was, who was the one posing the question, and who was the one about to answer it?  

“We’re just friends.”

Okay. Easy. That was Kuroo. 

The nonchalance laced into his answer fueled the flame igniting in the pit of your stomach, yet you continued to conceal your presence from the pair. 

“So you don’t mind if I ask her out?”

“It’s not my place to say anything.” Even without a visual, you knew your best friend would have added a shrug to accompany the statement. Somehow, that irritated you more. 

Rolling your eyes, you stepped past the corner for your grand reveal. “Hi there, boys. You wouldn’t mind if I borrowed Tetsurou for a second, would you?” 

Your sudden emergence had startled Kuroo, but what had his chest constricting was your use of his first name and the hallow laugh that was spilling from your lips. 

“Uh, sure…”

It took you a second to realize who the other male was – he was an acquittance of yours, one you shared two classes with. One who was mostly forgettable not due to a lack of charm, but solely because he wasn’t Kuroo.

“Perfect. Thank you.” Curling your fingers around your best friend’s wrist, you dragged him down the hallway, not caring for the confused glances thrown into your direction by those around you. When you reached the area between the staircase and corridor, you gently pushed him against the wall before placing both of your palms on either side of him. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but you were quick to drown out his voice with your own.

“No. You don’t get to do that. Just friends? That’s bullshit.” The concoction of emotions weaving into your bloodstream had given you a headrush. But at the center of the varying feelings was fear. Because you wanted more than a friendship, and you were about to risk your entire relationship for that desire. You tried to suppress it, but over time it became overwhelming. And now – his words had awoken something inside of you. Something you could not contain.

The black-haired male blinked down at you, his irises moving from your arms walling him in, to the death glare your eyes were partaking in. “Isn’t that what we are, y/n? Friends?”

Out of the options available to him, Kuroo had selected the one for a coward. Or perhaps, he was testing you. Either way, your irritation with him had increased tenfold.

“Fuck you.” Lowering your hands on either side, you stepped away from him before turning back into the direction of your class.

“I wasn’t done yet.” A sigh left his mouth as he caught your wrist with his hand, tugging you towards him. Once your back aligned with his chest, he repositioned his arms to curl around your stomach. Heat spread throughout your entire body, and you were unsure whether it was from your anger or due to his close proximity. “We are friends, y/n. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be more. You’re right, it is bullshit. But I can’t exactly go around telling everyone in the school that I’m in love with you, now can I?” Feeling you become incredibly still in his arms, he chuckled softly, pressing a kiss against your head. “But if I had known you would get that pissed off so easily, I would have said something stupid earlier. Because pinning me against the wall – that was hot.”

“Shut up.” Breaking away from his hold, you spun around to face him. A half smirk was tugging at his lips, one that communicated how much he enjoyed the situation. “You are horrible. What would you have done if that guy asked me out and I said yes? Hm?”

“I’d probably cry and then say on to the next one!” To further instigate you, he dipped an eyelid into a wink.

“Really. Horrible.” With your passion deflating, exhaustion crept into your muscles, bringing a groan to sound. “Let’s just get to class.”

“Nuh huh. We can ditch one class. Plus, you still haven’t said it back.” Tilting his head, he proceeded a step forward to close the distance once more. He then tapped on your chin, allowing your gazes to connect. 

Inhaling a deep breath, a faint smile was presented towards him.

“I love you too, idi-.”

The remaining half of the insult did not leave your mouth, rather it was replaced with a muffled protest as Kuroo gently caught your lips with his. As you tried to break the exchange, he tangled his fingers in your hair, keeping you secure against him, before mumbling. 

“That’s boyfriend to you.”

Sakusa Kiyoomi 

The repetitive interaction between the laminated flooring and the leather training balls had resulted in a dull ache in your temples. As the manager of a professional volleyball team, you were well accustomed to the noise but today, your patience was running thin. Practice had officially ended two hours ago, and yet your boyfriend, Sakusa Kiyoomi continued fine-tuning his serves. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you scanned the male for any indication of exhaustion – something you would have capitalized on, in order to reason with him. Except the outside hitter’s reserve of energy was far from being depleted. It often surprised you how resilient he was, he certainly did not have Bokuto or Hinata’s stamina, but that did not keep him from pursuing his goals. Whenever he would discover a new technique or target, he would work on it relentlessly. It was an admirable trait, one that made him one of the best players you had ever seen.

And let it be known, supporting him was always your intention. But at the moment, you were passing your own limits and remaining calm and composed was not an option. Between the throbbing on either side of your head and the acids chewing away at your stomach lining from hunger, you were seconds from raiding Bokuto’s secret snack stash.

“Omi, you’re done. Go take a shower.” After swapping your clipboard for a towel, you proceeded across the court, before offering it out to him.

The outside hitter stared at you in response, indicating that he heard your commands but was electing to ignore them. Returning his attention to the volleyball within his grasp, he began prepping for another serve. A sigh mixed with a growl rattled inside of your throat as you twisted the towel in frustration. When the ball landed on the opposite side of the court, an eerie grin stretched onto your mouth.

“Omi. You little shit.”

With each step you took forward, Sakusa intuitively took one step back until his back was met with the padding attached to the wall. You were quite aware of your height difference, although that did not matter. You planted your hands on either side of him, purposefully caging him in. Knitting his brows together, confusion swam in his dark irises.

“What are you doing?”

“What are you doing? I’m not asking you to finish up. I’m telling you. We finished practice two hours ago, and I am starving. If you do not go into there and take a shower this instant, I will not be responsible for what happens to you. You know what they say – you’re not yourself when you’re hungry.” After gesturing to the locker room with your head, you squinted at him, attempting to seem menacing. However, you were only met with amusement.

“Are you saying you will eat me?” The question had Sakusa battling a smile. Was he really supposed to find that scary?

“We both know someone like you would taste delicious, so I’m not saying that isn’t a possibility.” Maintaining a deadpan expression while spouting nonsense was not a task for the weak – but after having countless conversations with actual idiots, you had mastered it. You would not provide your boyfriend any satisfaction.

“Okay. I’ll go.” His admittance of defeat was joined with the raise of his eyebrow, communicating that he expected you to “release him” now. You were about to comply with the silent request when he dipped down and placed a fleeting kiss onto your mouth. The sudden display of affection had erupted a volcano of butteries inside your stomach.

“What the …”

Leaving you there baffled, the MSBY player slipped past your defenses, smiling to himself. 

Two could play at this game.

Later that night:

After gifting you an apology meal at your favourite fast-food joint, you both elected to walk home rather than taking a taxi. His fingers were intertwined with yours loosely, and since the streets were mostly abandoned, he had removed his mask, permitting his lungs unrestricted access to the fresh air. Now that your mood had elevated significantly after satisfying your human needs, you were ready to question your boyfriend on what occurred earlier inside of the arena.

“So, why’d you kiss me?” Kissing was generally an activity he preferred to engage in after showering. And therefore, you were puzzled by his recent actions.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shifting his gaze to the row of streetlamps that framed the sidewalk, he lifted his shoulders into a shrug.

“You liked that I threatened you, didn’t you?” A gentle laugh danced past your lips as you shook your head. That seemed to be the only explanation you could think of in the moment.

“No. You looked cute trying to seem scary.” He joined his retort with a scoff, although it was evident, he was suppressing any physical indication of joy.

“I am scary!” Resisting your urge to pout, you squished his hand to reinforce your statement.

“Yeah, sure you are.” Refusing to bestow upon you his full attention, his eyes travelled to the sky above. While he would not vocalize it, he found most of your antics to be ridiculously adorable. It was what he loved about you. And there was no denying that you could certainly scare others when deprived of food – but not him.

“I will eat you. Don’t tempt me.” A small pout forced its way to your lips to display your mild annoyance. Though, the emotion was easily defeated when Sakusa in a quick swoop, stole another kiss. This time, however, he lingered, enjoying the taste of your lips. 

It turned out that maybe his rules around kissing required some amending. Because he wanted to kiss you, whether or not some of his pre-conditions were met. Guess that was a consequence of being in love.

Once he pulled away, he exhaled a chortle.

“Yeah? I’m looking forward to it.”

General taglist: @haikyuufairy​ @newfriendjen​ @lvoejimin​ @moonlightaangel​ @gyozaaaaa​ @byun-nies​ @thevillagehiddenintheinternet​ @amberalisa​ @graykageyama​ @yourstarvic​ @chaichai-the-weeb​ @chibishae34​ @haikyuusimp91​ @volleybloop​  @rajablast​ @idiot-juice-enthusiast​ @melonmayhere​ @cuddlesslut​  @athenarosaline​ @memes-and-money​ @coconut-dreamz​   @elianetsantana​ @tsumume​ @tsukkismamagucci​ @the-golden-jhope​ @camcam1617​  @elephantloser​ @dreamstormings​ @anejuuuuoy​  @fantasycantasy​ @aquariarose​ @bloody-bella​​ 

[reinerispretty]

reminiscence. (? x f!reader) pt9

hello and welcome back! thank you for ur patience! this is another over 5000 words one, so pls enjoy! feedback and sharing is loved and appreciated but not necessary!!

pt1

pt8

pt10

“Have you talked to him at all since…?” Asami asked.

“Since I completely embarrassed myself at dinner the other night? No, I haven’t.” She situated herself in bed and turned over to look at her friends. “Do you think I should? I mean, it is odd that he just kissed me out of nowhere, right?”

“Mako’s not one to hold back when it comes to his feelings,” Korra said, and she and Asami exchanged a knowing smile.

Asami swung her fist forward, but (Y/N) ducked and lurched towards her to land a hit in Asami’s abdomen. She blocked her punch by grabbing (Y/N’s) wrist with a hard grip. (Y/N) paused, unsure of what move to do next, before relying on her instincts. Asami would expect her to try to punch with her other hand, but (Y/N) dropped to the ground and swept her leg under Asami’s. She toppled to the ground and landed on her back. As (Y/N) leaned over her, Asami gave her a bright smile. “You did so well! You’re a quick learner.” She took (Y/N’s) hand and stood on her feet. “One or two more sessions and you’ll be ready to handle anything.”

“It’s because I had a great teacher,” (Y/N) gave Asami a sloppy bow. “You really think I’ll have to fight in the Spirit World?” Asami shrugged.

“It’s better to be prepared for anything.”

After the disastrous dinner earlier in the week, (Y/N) had thrown herself into training with Asami and Korra. Both girls were great at teaching her hand-to-hand combat, and the exercise helped take (Y/N’s) mind off of everything that had happened with Mako and Bolin. By the time she went to bed at night, she was too exhausted to spend the night lying awake and wondering what she should do.

It was awkward now, being around Mako. He was trying his best to be nicer to her, she had noticed. But they hadn’t talked about his reasoning behind the kiss and at this point, (Y/N) was so full of scrambled emotions that she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. She wanted to just write it off as a fluke, an accident, and focus on preparing for their journey to the Spirit World.

She had barely talked to Bolin since that dinner. They only saw each other in passing. He avoided areas that Mako tended to be, so he rarely hung out with the group as a whole. (Y/N) was beginning to worry. Korra had assured her that Bolin would be fine. He bounced back quickly when he was upset and his and Mako’s relationship would be fine. But (Y/N) had passed Mako standing in front of Bolin’s door each night as his knocks went unanswered. Not seeing Bolin as much unsettled her, putting a sour feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Asami handed her a bottle of water, which (Y/N) gratefully accepted. “Are you coming to lunch?” She shook her head.

“I think I’m going to head to my room and freshen up, maybe take a nap.” Asami nodded and they bid each other goodbye.

The walk to (Y/N’s) room was long and allowed plenty of time for thoughts to run through her head. She had stuck her foot in her mouth earlier this week, but she wanted to make things right. She had given Bolin space, because that’s what she thought he had needed, but him not being part of their meals and time together just felt unnatural.

She stopped in front of his door. She knew that she probably looked a mess. She was sweaty, and her hair was falling from the ponytail she had put it into before her training, but she had to do this now before she talked herself out of it. Raising her fist, (Y/N) gave a few raps against the dark wood and waited. “Bolin?” She asked after there was no answer. “It’s me, (Y/N).”

  ---

Bolin had spent the last few days laying in bed with his eyes glued to the ceiling. It has been over a year since he had last seen (Y/), before all of this mess had happened, and he had thought he was doing alright. He didn’t wake up in the mornings feeling empty anymore, like a piece of his heart was missing. She wasn’t the first thing on his mind when he opened his eyes and she wasn’t the last thing he thought of before going to sleep. He could actually make it through his day without being reminded of her.

And when she showed up unannounced sure, it had tugged at his heartstrings to see her. It had brought back a flurry of old memories with every facial expression she made. But Bolin was okay. He had gotten over her. So, why was he so angry? Every time he thought about Mako kissing (Y/N), it nearly enraged him. Bolin hated feeling like this. He was never an angry person, but right now if he could punch Mako in the face, he would. And he didn’t understand why. After all, Mako was the one that had been so adamant about Bolin getting over (Y/N). He had told him to put himself back out there, to make new memories to replace the old ones. Had this been his plan all along, to steal (Y/N) from Bolin?

Bolin shut his eyes tight. No, Mako wouldn’t do that. And besides, (Y/N) wasn’t his. He didn’t have any claim over her, especially not know, when she doesn’t know who he is. She knows nothing about their history together and Bolin had to be honest, sometimes it killed him. Sometimes he wanted to make a joke that he knew only she would understand, but she wouldn’t now. In the mean time, before she got her memories back, he had wanted to be her friend. It wasn’t her fault that this had happened to her, and a tiny part of him hoped that maybe this amnesia thing would explain what had happened between them. He had to admit that a small part of him did enjoy standing so close to her and hearing her laugh and spending time with her, but he had written it all off as leftover feelings.

She had done quite a number on his heart, after all.

Almost two years ago, Bolin stood on the doorsteps of (Y/N’s) apartment, waiting in the cold winter air. He hit the buzzer and heard the second-floor window fly open. “I’m almost ready!” She called down to him, poking her head out of the window. Bolin’s heart caught in his chest for a moment. Half from seeing his girlfriend and half from noticing how far she was hanging out the window. “You can come up if you want!” Bolin accepted her invitation silently and pulled open the door, a chill running through his body as he stepped from cold air into warm. He walked up the high flight of stairs and immediately stood in (Y/N’s) living room.

Every time he had visited, he was unsure how a girl could come to accumulate so much stuff. Her furniture was all mismatched, taken from sales and alleyways, and piles of books were scattered across the entire apartment. Potted plants lay in beams of direct sunlight beneath the windows. Upstairs in the loft, he could hear her rifling through clothes to get ready for tonight.

“I have absolutely nothing to wear,” He heard her huff, just as a blouse fluttered down from above and landed at Bolin’s feet. He picked it up and climbed the stairs to the loft to return it to her.

“No matter what you wear, you’re still gonna be the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” And she turned around and gave him a smile, biting down on her lip to prevent herself from grinning so wide.

“Thank you, Bo,” She said softly, standing in front of the mirror to smooth down her hair. “I’m just nervous.”

“I’m meeting your mom, shouldn’t I be the only one that’s nervous?” She scoffed, pulling one of the old sweaters he had given her from her closet and pulling it over her shoulders. It was green, like most of Bolin’s things were, and he couldn’t help but run over to her and hug her from behind, lifting her into the air as he did so. She let out a squeal of surprise that turned into laughter. He thought she was beautiful no matter what she wore, but something about seeing her in his clothes made his heart soar even more than it did when he was around her.

She turned around once he set her down, but his hands were still placed gently on her waist. She smoothed out the collar of his shirt. Bolin had wanted to dress to impress, so he borrowed one of Mako’s nicest shirts. It was a bit too tight on Bolin’s frame, but he hoped if he kept his jacket on, no one would notice. “My mom is just…something else. She owns Kwong’s Cuisine, so sometimes I think she thinks she’s better than people. I don’t want her to scare you away.”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek and she hummed, wrapping her arms around his middle and resting his head on her chest. “Nothing could ever scare me away from you.”

They walked the whole way to the restaurant, which had closed just a few hours prior. Bolin thought the dinner idea was nice. (Y/N’s) mother had suggested a private, after-hours dinner with just the three of them. Her mother was not only the owner, but a highly renowned chef in Republic City, so Bolin’s stomach grumbled in anticipation as (Y/N) led him through the doors of Kwong’s Cuisine. The inside was beyond elegant. Bolin had only seen the inside when he was walking by and people were entering or leaving the building. He had always wondered what it was like, and it had certainly surpassed his expectations. The host took their coats and led them to the table where (Y/N’s) mother was waiting.

Her mother sat with her hands folded in her lap as they approached. Everything about her seemed regal, from each perfectly placed hair atop her head to how even though Bolin was standing and she was sitting, it seemed like she looked down on him.

“Hi Mom,” (Y/N) said as they approached. Her mother remained seated and Bolin noticed how rigid (Y/N’s) body had become. “This is my boyfriend, Bolin.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ma’am!” Bolin said excitedly, extending his hand out to offer a shake. She stared at it for a few moments before Bolin retracted it, wiping the sweat that had accumulated onto his dress pants. He pulled out (Y/N’s) chair before sitting down across from her. There were only three chairs at this particular table, and although she was still within arms reach, Bolin felt like he was way too far away from her.

“Your restaurant is amazing,” Bolin said, staring at the chandeliers over their heads. “I’ve heard super great things about it.”

“You’ve never been to Kwong’s Cuisine?” Her mother asked, taking a sip of her water. Bolin shook his head.

“It’s not quite within my price range unfortunately,” Bolin chuckled, and (Y/N) smiled at him as she started to look at her menu.

“I don’t know why you need that thing,” Her mother said off-handedly. “If you work here you should have the menu memorized.” (Y/N’s) fingers gripped the menu pages tightly.

“I was just looking.”

“Bolin,” Her mother said, turning to Bolin, but she pronounced his name all wrong. She said it as “Ball-in” and while Bolin wasn’t all that concerned, he could tell that it irked (Y/N). “I’m glad I’m finally meeting you. I was beginning to worry that our dear (Y/N) was going to keep you a secret for forever.” Bolin stole a glance at (Y/N), but she was staring very intently at the menu. “Tell me about yourself, since my daughter neglected to do so.”

“Oh,” Bolin said, and he was starting to sweat at the back of his neck. Had (Y/N) really not said anything to her own mother about him? She worked at this restaurant nearly every day! She had sneaked him into the kitchens and she hadn’t bothered to at least mention him? “Well, my name’s Bolin, but uh, you already knew that.” He coughed to clear his throat. “I have an older brother, Mako, he’s pretty cool. He and (Y/N) get along swell. We’re part of the Pro-Bending team, the Fire Ferrets,” And the look that (Y/N’s) mother made told Bolin that he probably shouldn’t have said that.

(Y/N) came to the rescue. “They’re amazing! You should see them play at the stadium, Bolin and Mako are like a dynamic duo.”

“I see,” Her mother said. “And do you and your brother see yourselves making a career out of this?”

“Well-“

“Because I can’t imagine that you could win every game.”

“Mom…”

“And it just seems to me that it’s not a very practical career avenue. I mean, what must your parents think?”

Bolin was feeling awkward and uncomfortable. He understood now, why (Y/N) was so nervous about him meeting her mother. He felt like he wanted to run and never stop. But he remained seated. “My parents passed away when Mako and I were little.”

“Surely your family must-“

“Mako and Bolin don’t have any other family.” (Y/N) snapped. That seemed to shock her mother into enough silence so (Y/N) continued. “Bo, I was thinking, you might like these Water Tribe noodles that we serve.” Bolin opened his menu for the first time but his eyes were just a bit watery.

They ate dinner for the rest of the night in silence. (Y/N) tried hard to make the conversation flow, but it seemed like that ship had sailed. Once they left for the night, she walked at Bolin’s side, huddling into herself.

“Why didn’t you tell your mom about me?” Bolin asked.

“I just wanted to have you to myself for a little while longer,” She said with a sigh. “I know I should have told her, but my mom…she ruins things. Good things. We used to get along swell before my dad left, but she turned into someone I don’t like.” (Y/N) looked up at him. “I didn’t want her to ruin us, too.”

Bolin reached out and grabbed her hand. (Y/N) squeezed it. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to protect me. I grew up living on the streets. I’ve probably stolen food out of the garbage from your mom’s restaurant. If you like me for who I am, then you have to know I like you for who you are. Scary mom and all.”

(Y/N) smiled up at him. “On the bright side, now that that’s over, we won’t have to see her again!” Bolin laughed.

“At least not until the wedding.” And because he knew her, he smiled at the warmth he knew was coming to her face.

Things went surprisingly well after meeting (Y/N’s) mom. They spent even more time together. Their anniversary was coming up soon and Bolin had been saving his cut of the Fire Ferret winnings for months to buy her something nice. He knew she wasn’t the kind of person who expected gifts from others, but he enjoyed spoiling her regardless, and wanted to give her something a little nicer than usual.

The idea of telling her that he loved her had also been bouncing around in his head. Bolin had never been one to deny his feelings, and although the majority of him was fairly confident that (Y/N) felt the same way, there was still the small fear of rejection at the back of his mind. But life was too short to live in fear, so when they would go out to their anniversary dinner, he would give her the present and also tell her that he loved her for the first time. And if she didn’t feel the same just yet, Bolin was okay was that. Because (Y/N) was the kind of person that Bolin wanted to wait for.

When he and Mako were little and living on the streets, they had to pawn off as many things as they can to make sure they could survive. This money lasted them for a few months. It helped to get them clothes and food. Mako had chosen to keep their father’s scarf and Bolin had chosen to keep Pabu, because having a pet around was always a good idea. One thing that they had to part with was their mother’s most prized possession: a necklace that their father had given her. It was pure gold, bent into the shape of the Earth symbol. Their father had told Mako and Bolin that he had given it to their mother when he was confident that he was going to marry her. Bolin had always been a romantic at heart and couldn’t wait for the day that he could give that necklace to someone. But as he and Mako fell on hard times, they decided to pawn the necklace to get some money for new winter clothes. Bolin had been tasked with taking the necklace to the shop and he had done so with shaking hands and watery eyes.

“Please don’t sell this to anyone else,” He said as he placed the necklace on the counter. “I-I’m gonna come back for it, I promise.” And the owner of the pawn shop took pity on him and decided to keep the necklace in the back room for whenever Bolin had the money to buy it back.

Bolin, with the money he had saved over the past few months, had been able to buy the necklace back just a few days prior. He kept it tucked away in his bedside drawer, eager for his anniversary with (Y/N) so he could give it to her.

But (Y/N) had walked into Bolin’s apartment a couple days later, her cheeks tearstained and her eyes bloodshot. He looked up from teaching Pabu a new trick, his eyes bright with excitement to show her, but his face fell at the sight. “Are you alright?” He asked, and (Y/N) sniffled.

“I’m breaking up with you,” Was what she said, and Bolin couldn’t help but laugh in surprise. This had to be a prank that she was playing. (Y/N) loved telling jokes.

When he saw the serious expression on her face, he felt panic arise in his stomach. “You’re being serious?” He asked, and she nodded her head. “W-what do you mean?” He rushed over to stand in front of her. “Why are you saying this?”

“Because we’re breaking up, Bolin,” She said, and she refused to meet his eyes. “We won’t work. Being with you was fun but I don’t see us going anywhere.”

“(Y/N), I don’t understand,” He could feel the prickling sensation at the back of his eyes. “You’re not making any sense. Come on, let’s talk about this.” He grabbed her hand.

“There’s nothing to talk about!” She insisted, ripping her hand out of his. Bolin’s fingers curled in on themselves, shocked at the absence. She had never reacted that way to him. “We’re breaking up and that’s it! I don’t know what you want from me!”

“I want an explanation! You can’t just come in here and decide that we’re broken up, I-We-I love you, (Y/N). Please.”

She looked up at him for the first time, her eyes boring into his. Her bottom lip quivered. “I don’t love you. There’s your explanation.” She spun on her heel and ran out of the apartment. Bolin was still in the same position when he heard the door shut.

He moved back to the couch to sit, still trying to process what had just happened. Pabu curled himself around his neck, licking at his cheek. It took Bolin a while to realize that Pabu was licking at the tears that were falling, now more rapidly. Once he started crying, Bolin felt like he couldn’t stop. He was still crying when Mako got home and cried as his brother hugged him through the night.

Bolin opened his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest and the familiar tight, anxious feeling that he had had that night in his chest. He hadn’t dreamt about what had happened between him and (Y/N) in over a year. He sat up in bed when he heard a knock at the door.

---

To (Y/N’s) surprise, she heard the click of the door unlocking and then Bolin was standing before her, his bright green eyes staring at her curiously. “Oh, hi!” He said, as if he hadn’t actually been expecting it to be her. “How are you?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing. We haven’t really gotten the chance to talk this week.” She gave him a sheepish smile.

“Yeah, you know me, super busy Bolin.” He looked back at his bare bedroom. “I’ve just been doing, you know, things.”

“Things,” (Y/N) repeated. She might not remember Bolin and his habits, but he was a horrible liar. “Listen, I just wanted to say sorry for everything that happened at dinner earlier this week. I spoke without thinking and I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“I’m not upset,” Bolin said. “Mako kissed you, that’s…that’s no big deal.” (Y/N) furrowed her brows.

“Does Mako know you feel that way?”

“You don’t have to come talk to me on his behalf. Whatever you guys have, I’m cool with it.”

“That wasn’t what I was doing, and Mako and I don’t ‘have’ anything.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her lips pulling down at the edges. “Don’t make assumptions about what’s going on between Mako and I before asking either one of us.”

“I wasn’t trying to make assumptions,” He said. “Listen, if you and Mako want to…y’know, have anything, I don’t want you to think that I’m upset or standing in the way of it. I’m fine, really. I’m over what happened between you and I. I was upset at Mako for not telling me, but I’m fine now.” He moved to shut the door.

“You’re over me,” (Y/N) said, and she felt like an idiot for repeating it but she needed to clarify.

“A thousand percent,” Bolin said with a smile. “From now on, we can be best buds!” With that, he shut the door. (Y/N) stared blankly at the hardwood for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. Bolin was over her. He had said it himself. She supposed she should have figured that. It had apparently been years since they had been together and it was obvious to her that she had hurt him very badly. Bolin deserved this outcome, he deserved to be over her after everything she had put him through. She should be happy for him.

As she walked back to the main part of the ship where the rest of her friends would be, she couldn’t help but comb through every interaction she ever had with Bolin. She had thought that maybe there had been something there. He had made her a favorite food of hers and had offered her a jacket to make sure she wasn’t cold. (Y/N) felt like an idiot. Those were probably just things Bolin did, and she wasn’t aware because she didn’t know him at all.

“(Y/N)!” Korra called, jogging to catch up with her friend. “I’ve been shouting for you to wait for like a whole minute.”

“Sorry,” (Y/N) said. “A lot on my mind, I guess.”

“Well you’re about to have even more on your mind, because I just talked to the captain and he said we’re going to dock in the Southern Water Tribe by nightfall.”

“That’s amazing!” (Y/N) exclaimed. She was going to allow herself to have a moment of excitement. “And then we’ll head into the Spirit World?”

“It’ll be too cold to leave at night. We’re going to stay with my parents and then my dad will help us get there tomorrow.” Korra grinned at (Y/N), her eyes barely visible from how wide her smile was. “I’m so excited for you to see where I’m from.”

“If it created someone like you, I’m sure it’s amazing,” (Y/N) said. Korra looped her arm through (Y/N’s).

“I’ll have to ask Mako and Bolin where your family’s from. I’d love to know if you have a bit of Water Tribe in you.” She poked her side, causing (Y/N) to giggle.

“I can’t wait to have all of the answers back,” (Y/N) said. “Who I am, where I’m from. Do you think my family is still in Republic City? Do I even have a family?” She turned to Korra. “I wonder if they’ll even let me come home.”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself. First, we have to figure out how to get your memories back. And then we have to figure out how to get you to stay in Republic City. I kind of like having you around.”

“Really?” (Y/N’s) smile was bright and beaming. She was thankful for Korra. When everything else was so uncertain, at least she had a friend in her from the very start.

“Yeah. There’s no one I know that does as much embarrassing stuff as you.”

---

They docked in the Southern Water Tribe late that night. (Y/N) had put on as many layers of clothing as she could to keep herself warm, but it still didn’t feel like enough. She was shivering as she walked off the boat, which caused Korra to laugh at her. “Not all of us have firebending to keep ourselves warm!” (Y/N) muttered.

Korra’s father was waiting at the end of the dock to take them all back to their home. He introduced himself as Tonraq and he absolutely towered over (Y/N). He looked rather intimidating, but he had a kind smile that (Y/N) appreciated.

“So you’re the young girl that’s been stirring things up in Republic City,” He laughed as he shook (Y/N’s) gloved hand. “Just when I think Korra might take a break, she’s gets herself into another adventure.”

“She’s been such a great friend to me these past few weeks,” (Y/N) said. They rod snowmobiles back to their hut. It was modest in size, but as soon as (Y/N) stepped inside, she felt so at home. A fire radiated in the middle of the room, keeping the entire house warm. Animal furs and pelts decorated the walls, but so did pictures of Korra. From an infant to present, photographs of Korra were placed through the entire house.

“It’s so nice to see all of you again,” Korra’s mom said as she hugged her daughter. “And it’s so nice to meet you!” She pulled (Y/N) into a hug of her own, surprising the girl. When they pulled away, she introduced herself. “I’m Senna. Korra has written us so much about you.”

“Alright,” Korra said with a cough, her face bearing a faint flush. “(Y/N) and Asami will stay in my room with me. Mako and Bolin, you’re going to sleep in the living room if that’s alright.”

“Sounds good to me!” Bolin said, and he started pulling out his sleeping bag to prepare for the night. (Y/N) couldn’t help but look back at him as she was guided into Korra’s bedroom.

It was a small bedroom with a bed pushed against the wall, but two beds had been set up on the floor. Korra’s walls were bare compared to the rest of the house. “I saw those pictures of you as a baby,” (Y/N) said. “You were so adorable!”

“’Were?’” Korra asked, and she, Asami, and (Y/N) laughed.

The three girls began getting ready for bed and each crawled underneath the covers. (Y/N) had opted to leave her jackets on. “I don’t think I have any Water Tribe in me,” She said to Korra. “It’s freezing here.”

“You get used to it eventually,” Asami said. Korra tossed a blanket at (Y/N), which landed on her head.

“Here, have one of mine.”

“Are you sure you won’t need it?”

“Nah, plus I don’t really want to hear Mako complaining in the morning when you’ve turned into an icicle.”

“Have you talked to him at all since…?” Asami asked.

“Since I completely embarrassed myself at dinner the other night? No, I haven’t.” She situated herself in bed and turned over to look at her friends. “Do you think I should? I mean, it is odd that he just kissed me out of nowhere, right?”

“Mako’s not one to hold back when it comes to his feelings,” Korra said, and she and Asami exchanged a knowing smile.

“I just don’t want to complicate things anymore. I talked to Bolin earlier today and he said that he doesn’t care what Mako and I do, because he’s over me. And I know it shouldn’t have, but it still stung.”

“Once we get your memories back, everything will make sense again,” Asami said, reaching underneath the blankets to squeeze (Y/N’s) hand.

“Thanks, guys,” (Y/N) said, closing her eyes to try to get some sleep. She and Asami’s fingertips remained touching throughout the night.

---

In the living room, Mako and Bolin remained wide awake. Both brothers stared at the ceiling, neither sure of what they should do in order to make themselves fall asleep. Mako decided to speak first.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you,” He said in a low whisper. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I kissed (Y/N). I don’t really know what happened. She just got me so angry.” Bolin hummed in acknowledgement, so Mako continued. “If I’m being honest, I did sort of like her when you guys were together.”

Bolin turned on his stomach to face Mako. “Have you liked every girl I’ve been with? First (Y/N), then Korra-!”

“Not every girl,” Mako said. “Just the really smart and pretty ones.” Bolin scoffed, but Mako could still see the hint of a smile on his face. “I don’t want you to think that I was trying to undermine you by kissing her. I really didn’t know what I was doing when I did it and I still don’t know why I did it. I’m glad she hasn’t tried to talk to me about it, because I’m not sure I wouldn’t have had an answer for her.”

“I don’t care that you guys kissed,” Bolin said. “I’ve been over (Y/N) for a while now. I was just bothered that you didn’t tell me about it.” Mako raised an eyebrow.

“You think you’re over (Y/N)?”

“Of course I am. It’s been years-“

“And you look at her like you did the first time. Stop trying to lie to yourself, little bro.” Bolin huffed.

“It doesn’t matter. You remember how things ended.”

“I know, but maybe…maybe we were wrong.”

“Are you actually starting to defend (Y/N)? Old (Y/N), I mean?”

“I’m not defending her! It’s just obvious that we don’t have the whole story. But hopefully we will soon.” Mako slid further underneath his covers. “Just…don’t hold what I did against her.”

Bolin turned on his side, staring at the fire that was now dying out. He didn’t like the way being around (Y/N) made him feel. It scared him, because he had felt those feelings before, and had ended up worse off because of it. But that night, he did drift off thinking of her smile. 

---

Tag List!

FIC TAG LIST:

@ilovespideyyy , @zukostan221 , @nataliahaslosthershit , @dailytrashypanda , @ryleyrooroo , @yuhaino , @hotgirlazula , @writeido , @foenixphire , @bolinmorelikebabe-lin , @pointlesscoconut , @shells-bells-ringding , @hstott , @bombardia , @maruchan77 , @busyforkuvira , @moon-spirit-yue , @idk123906 , @hocus-pocus-i-dont-focus , @simpingforzuko69 , @theloneliestplaytapus

PERM TAGLIST:

@beifongsss , @aroyaldarknessblr , @musicalkeys , @thefandomimagines , @blondie0458 , @kairiririri , @awesomelupe , @zukosvice , @tomshollandz , @lavendercrystals , @astralsaf , @realimbo , @mycollectionofnuts , @wingeddemonclub , @gingersnap126126 , @aangsupremacy , @marvel-ing-at-it-all , @davnwillcome , @someoneovertherainboww , @bigbuckyenergy , @breadqueen95 , @buttholland , @noodlesfluffy , @busyforkuvira , @error-loading-sorry , @bombardia , @la3divine , @just-a-teal-android , @theeavtrkyoshi , @brokennerdalert , @sukifans