#also it's still week 3 if you count sunday as the last day of the week | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

btsgotjams27 · 1 year

Text

the back-up plan | jjk

summary: one drunken night leads to an agreement that if you and jungkook are still single by 30, you'd marry each other. the only thing is jungkook has been doing everything he can to keep you single.

💖 title: the back-up plan | one-shot 💖 pairing: jungkook x f!reader | 💖 genre/au: romance, fluff / friends to lovers(?) 💖 rating: SFW | 18+ | 💖 word count: 18.1k | 💖 playlist 💖 warnings: jungkook & reader are both 29, reader is a hopeless romantic (what else is new with my characters?), jungkook is always pining and head over heels in love, jungkook is sweet and in luvrrr but he’s bad at feelings and tells some terrible lies (don’t hate him—ok!!), reader has a skewed view of relationships and what's expected of her, jungkook calls her wifey, hot and seggsy neighbor!namjoon (yes, pls), shirtless namjoon (2x), kissing, hand-holding, some suggestive language, mentions of erotic art and positions, first dates, alcohol consumption, reader has her belly button pierced, talks of tattoos & getting them, mentions of needles, and idk some things may come off as cheesy??? but it's a romance story so idk take what you will, light angst (you should know me by now!!), jungkook gets a lil drunk (pls drink responsibly), jealous jk comes out, love confessions 💖 a/n: the plot is a bit ridiculous, but that's the point! it's fiction (lol), i hope y'all enjoy it for what it is. the idea came from a tweet I saw, but ofc, I can't find it! so thank you to whoever tweeted it! and, happy birthday to the loml, jeon jungkook (this was supposed to be out for his birthday, but my brain said no). i also have to thank holly (@alphabetboyluvr). i respect her so much as a writer and friend, and I was super scared to ask her to even look at my outline, but she's always so sweet and willing. i couldn't have done this without her help, her comments, and suggestions <3 (i'd also recommend listening to the playlist while reading :)) and as always, i'd love to hear your thoughts 💖

sunday.

Another day has passed, and it’s creeping closer to your birthday. They’re supposed to be joyous, celebratory occasions–and you love feeling special, showered with love and gifts. What more could a person want?

But you had a clear goal before hitting the big 3-0: get married–or at least be engaged to be married.

Most girlfriends your age were still having fun, enjoying life, and not ready to settle down. You’re unsure if your upbringing or society’s expectations distorted you, but you were fond of marriage and finding the one to spend your life with.

You also blamed the hopeless romantic in you when you dragged every one of your girlfriends with you to see the new romantic comedy, giggled, and kicked your feet when reading the latest best-selling romance novel.

The thing was, you were so close to getting engaged. You and your boyfriend, Theo, of eight months–well, ex-boyfriend–discussed it openly from the beginning of your relationship. And not even two weeks ago, he broke up with you out of the blue and gave no clear explanation.

You sat in bed debating whether to download your old dating apps again. Your birthday was in six days, and you knew you wouldn’t find a suitable mate before your birthday, but at least you could try, right?

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:27 PM Happy ‘almost 30th’ birthday.

You 11:28 PM 😭😭😭

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:28 PM Are you still crying over Theodore Boner?

You 11:29 PM It’s Bonner, not boner!

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:29 PM 🤣🤣🤣 You were saved from that one. Imagine having the last name Boner.

You rolled your eyes at the text from Jungkook, throwing your phone beside you as you curled under your duvet.

KooKoo-Ca-Choo Incoming Video Call

“What do you want, Kook?”

“You gotta admit, ____ Boner sounds awful,” Jungkook laughed as he pushed back in his recliner.

“I’m hanging up!” you threatened, getting ready to push the end button.

"No, no! I'm kidding. You would've made a great Mrs. Boner."

"Bye–Kook."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm done, I promise."

"I had a whole plan. What am I supposed to do now? My birthday is in six days," you groaned, covering your face with the duvet.

"You don't remember our agreement, do you?"

You brought the cover down. Curious about his comment. "What agreement?"

💖💖💖

Before this most recent one, your ex, Jimin, had broken up with you, and you were on the rebound, looking for a good time. Jungkook came to the rescue, saving you from your next mistake. He took you out for drinks, let you drown in your sorrows, and the two of you got pretty drunk. You could only remember bits and pieces of your conversation.

“Let’s get married if we’re still single by 30,” Jungkook suggests.

“You wanna marry me? But I’m such a mess.”

Your dating life, career, friends, and family were fine.

“Yeah, why not. We get along. You seem a little kinky in bed and make a mean spaghetti dish.”

“Is that all I’m good for? Sex and spaghetti?”

“That sounds like a bad porn film waiting to happen. No, but I'm serious. If we're still single, let’s get married.”

You wave him off. “Kook, you’re drunk. You’re just saying whatever.”

“Yeah, I'm drunk, but I'm serious about this.”

He gets up, looks around, sees a straw wrapper, and ties it around your finger. He's on one knee before you.

“____, will you marry me? Hypothetically, of course, if we’re both still single by 30.”

You shake your head at your loveable friend. It was hard to say no. How could you?

“You’re so dumb.”

“See. You can write that in your vows,” Jungkook jokes, grinning from ear to ear.

“Well, you are pretty cute, and I can stand being around you,” you tease.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

You smack his arm. “Is this how you’re wooing your future wife?”

“Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I can’t believe how beautiful my future wife is.”

You’re unsure if it’s the alcohol making you susceptible and vulnerable to your good friend asking you to marry him or if it was because you were on the rebound. But what’s the harm? If you couldn’t find someone by 30, then you’d get to marry a good friend.

“That's more like it. Why yes, Jeon Jungkook. I will marry you if I'm still single by 30.”

💖💖💖

You let out a cackle. “Oh shit–I agreed to that?”

Jungkook pouts and nods. “Sure did.”

But Jungkook’s messing around, right? He was a good friend and comforted you in your time of need. There’s no way he’d want to spend the rest of his life with you. Plenty of suitable women were fawning over him, and now you’ve noticed you've never seen him with a girlfriend.

“You’re–you’re not serious, are you?” You stumble over your words, going into panic mode.

Why would Jeon Jungkook choose you, of all people, to want to marry? He could have anyone at any time.

No, you shook off the thought. You couldn’t lock him into a loveless marriage.

Jungkook licks his lips, tongue flicking his lip ring back and forth.

You shifted in bed and cleared your throat. “Aren’t you seeing that one girl?”

It wasn’t hard to notice when she practically hung onto him like a lovesick puppy.

Jungkook makes a face, shaking his head. “Nah, it’s nothing serious.”

You give him a blank expression. “Nothing serious? Kook, she’s practically foaming at the mouth and shooting heart eyes when you’re around.”

Jungkook chuckles. “That could be you, too.”

You narrow your eyes, glaring at him.

“Just saying,” he adds.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to get in the way if it is serious.” You surely didn’t want to become a homewrecker.

He waves his hand. “Oh, no, no, no. I don’t back down from promises I make.”

Your lips turn into a pout, and you tilt your head, wondering why he’d ditch Clingy Chloe and commit to a drunken promise. “What’s in it for you?”

He seems offended by your question, so he scoffs. “I mean, I’m just trying to save you from a future where you’re an old lady with 50 cats, collecting newspapers that pile up from the floor to the ceiling, and then you show up on an episode of Hoarders.”

You chuckle. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“You’re not?” he questions hesitantly.

“I mean, marriage is a pretty serious thing, and we’re friends getting married because we have no one else?” The sentiment seems ridiculous once you say it aloud.

“What? You don’t think I'll be a good husband?”

“No, I didn't say that. I think you’d be a great one, actually.”

“Then, what’s the problem? Don’t think you can handle me?” Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes at your cocky friend. “I don’t know, Kook. What if I meet someone, or what if you meet someone?”

“You don’t think I can make you fall in love with me?” he asks, ignoring your question.

Your nose scrunches, and you laugh. “No.”

“Oh, well, that sounds like a challenge, and you’re lucky I love a little competition.”

He’s not going to let this go, is he?

You settle into the plush of your pillows. “Okay–tell you what, if you can make me fall in love with you within the week, I’ll consider marrying you.”

What would you have to lose? Being wined and dined by a cute guy? What girl would pass up this opportunity?

“Deal.”

💖💖💖

monday.

Your everyday routine consists of rolling out of bed, logging into work, checking your emails, and then sitting on the couch until you get a support ticket from someone who forgot their password for the umpteenth time.

It’s a great gig, and now you’re glad you went into the right field of work.

You’re on your random binge of rewatching The Fast and the Furious saga. Your friends always make fun of you, but you can’t help it. It’s a guilty pleasure of yours.

“You got some sexy legs. When do they open?” Roman says with a grin.

You burst out laughing. The dialogue is so bad, yet somehow, these movies keep getting made. You must be the target audience.

The doorbell rings and it’s 8:30 AM. Who is here this early? You didn’t buy anything online while you were drunk, did you?

You peek through the viewfinder, and it’s blocked by something yellow. You can’t see the delivery person’s face when you open the door.

“Special delivery for ___,” the person says in a deep voice.

“That’s me.”

And out from behind the flowers, Jeon Jungkook pops out. “Happy birthday week,” he says in a sing-song voice.

Your heart settles when you realize it's your friend or future husband. “What are you doing here?”

You notice two grocery bags on the ground next to him. He hands you the flowers and picks them up.

“What do you think I’m doing here?” He raises his eyebrow, scanning you from head to toe.

Real clothes and makeup don’t exist when you're working from home.

“Cute slippers,” he points out as you stare at your fluffy white bunny slippers.

You sigh, grabbing his arm to drag him into your apartment. As you’re about to close the door, you notice moving boxes outside the apartment next to yours. Hmm, someone new must be moving in.

“Is this what you look like underneath all that makeup?” he asks, making himself comfortable in your kitchen. The two bags are on the counter, and he’s going through the cupboards to find a vase.

“Top left above the sink,” you say.

He opens the cupboard, retrieving a clear vase.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting company. Otherwise, I would’ve put on some decent clothing.”

And a bra, you think as you cross your arms, covering your chest.

Jungkook shakes his head. “You look good in anything, and with or without makeup. You’ll be my future wifey, so there’s no need to look for good me. We can just be comfortable with each other, right?”

You purse your lips and raise an eyebrow. He’s serious about this, isn’t he? You suppose you wouldn’t mind playing along to see how far he would go.

A man ready and willing to commit to marriage? You must be living in your romantic film.

You nod. “Right, we’re friends, possibly moving onto more than friends–well, actually, straight to marriage,” you chuckle, "but I’ve always felt comfortable around you, Kook.”

He flashes a warm smile. “Good, then everything will be easy, peasy lemon squeezy.”

He’s cute, you think.

“I hope you like mimosas,” he says as he unloads the groceries from the bags.

Bread, eggs, bacon, strawberries, orange juice, and champagne.

“Are you making me breakfast?” you question, narrowing your eyes at the man in the yellow beanie and white Nike shirt.

“Consider it your birthday breakfast, wifey,” he jokes, peering in your cupboards for a pan.

“Right side next to the oven.”

“Ah, I gotta remember this if I’m gonna be cooking here more often.” He whistles, setting the pan on the stove.

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “Don’t you have to work today?”

“Nah–called in sick. It’s my wife’s birthday week. I have to shower her with all the love.” He wiggles his eyebrows and puckers his lips.

It’s funny to see Jeon Jungkook act this way. He’s always been playful and flirty the two years you’ve known him, but this must’ve been his way of pulling out all his cards of wooing a woman.

💖💖💖

“Breakfast is ready,” Jungkook yells from the kitchen.

A support ticket from work came through, distracting you from your movie and Jungkook.

“‘Kay! Almost done.” You recheck your work emails, ensuring everything is complete.

This time, you put on a bra, change into a decent shirt, and put on a skin tint and blush to make yourself look alive.

You stroll into the kitchen, and Jungkook perfectly displays the sunflowers on the counter and two delicious breakfast plates. The champagne flutes are filled to the brim and topped off with a beautifully sliced strawberry.

“Thanks, Kook. This looks so yummy.”

He flashes a smile. “Anytime.”

The two of you sit beside each other, digging into the breakfast spread.

“What’s that one movie you wanted to watch again?” Jungkook asks before he sips his mimosa.

Your mouth is full, and you chew quickly to answer him. “The one on Netflix?” He hums. “Wedding Season.”

“Sounds like the perfect movie for us to watch this week.”

“You’re into rom-coms?”

“I love ‘em.”

“Shut up. You’re teasing me now.”

“I don’t know why you never ask me to watch them, but you’ll ask the girls.”

You look down at your food before catching his gaze. “I didn’t think you’d be into them, so I never asked. And you don’t seem like the hopeless romantic type.”

“I mean, growing up, I wasn’t. My parents didn’t have a fairytale romance, so I didn’t believe in love for a long time.”

You raise an eyebrow. “So, someone must’ve changed your mind then?”

He hums, not wanting to admit who made it an exception.

You nudge his arm. “Are you gonna tell me, or will I have to pry it out of you?”

He chuckles, not saying a word.

You scoff. “You’re not gonna tell me? Keeping secrets from your wife already? Rude,” you tut.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he replies.

The two of you finish breakfast, and Jungkook insists on doing the dishes. You set your plate in the sink and clutch onto his arm, tiptoeing to place a kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you.”

💖💖💖

tuesday.

You take the morning off to run errands for your upcoming birthday extravaganza. And you’re struggling to hit the lock button on your keypad while holding a heavy box of birthday decor.

When you finally hear the whirring of the lock and chime, you turn around, bumping into someone, dropping your box, and knocking over a handful of books.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there,” you say, quickly picking up as many books as possible, and he picks up your birthday decor.

The man reaches for the pink heart-shaped sunglasses and other pink-colored decor. “Someone must be celebrating big,” the man’s dimpled smile displayed.

Your fingers accidentally touch his when you switch his books for your decor. You clear your throat, trying not to ogle the man. “Um, yeah, it’s for my birthday.”

He perks up. “Oh?” He flashes a thin smile. “Happy birthday.”

A breath gets caught in your throat, and you struggle to get any words out. “Uh, my birthday is actually on Saturday,” you finally croak out. “But, you must be my new neighbor.”

“Yeah, I’m Namjoon. I just moved in this past weekend.”

Oh, this is bad. Really bad.

He’s tall, has beautiful tanned skin and blonde hair, and you could live in his dimples.

“It’s–it’s nice to meet you.”

“Sorry about bumping into you, and it’s nice to meet you too. I hope you have a good birthday,” he says before picking up one last book on the ground.

“Are you doing anything this weekend? You can come if you want.”

After you ask, you want to kick yourself in the bum. Inviting a man you just met. What if he’s a weirdo? But how can he be if he’s reading ‘A Bigger Message Conversations with David Hockney.’ You may have managed to peek at one of his books.

“Oh, no,” he shakes his head. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding! I’m inviting you, and you can’t say no to the birthday girl,” you tease, adjusting the box in your arms.

A low chuckle escaped his lips. “You’re right. It’d be messed up to say no to the birthday girl.”

“So, you’ll come?” you ask, and a smile grows from ear to ear.

He nods. “Yeah, I’ll come.”

The two of you exchange information before you leave to finish your errands. You’re beaming down the street while carrying your box of decor.

You didn’t expect to find someone cute and endearing so quickly. And you’re surprised he said yes to your party. Maybe he’s new in town and wants to make friends. It would be a good way for him to get acquainted, and a part of you hoped you’d keep bumping into him in the halls.

💖💖💖

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:27 AM Wanna do a movie night today? We could watch Wedding Season.

You 11:30 AM Sounds like a date.

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:35 AM Is 6 okay? I can bring dinner too.

You 11:36 AM That sounds perfect.

It's six on the dot, and you hear a knock on your door. You suppose Jungkook is the type to show up right on time, which you greatly appreciate.

He holds a six-pack of beer and a pizza box when you open the door.

"Ready for movie night?"

It’s halfway through the film, and you’re enjoying it. You love the fake dating trope because you could always count on the two mains to fall for each other.

"Are you cold?" Jungkook asks when he sees you tuck your hands in between your thighs.

"Yeah, kind of."

"Come here."

He opens his arm to cuddle, and you blink expressionless at him. The most intimate thing you’ve done with him is hug him–a side hug.

He laughs when you don’t move. “What? Scared I’ll bite?”

“No—it’s just that cuddling is an intimate thing to do,” you admit.

Arms and legs become entangled. Bodies are warming up against each other. Possibilities of things progressing.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Do you have a throw blanket somewhere?” He looks around and sees a woven basket next to the couch. He grabs a white fluffy throw for you.

Jungkook gives you an out, and for that, you’re grateful.

“Thanks,” you say as you snuggle in the blanket.

He flashes a small smile. “No problem.”

Even though you rejected Jungkook’s invitation to cuddle, somehow, by the end of the movie, the two of you had fallen asleep—cuddling.

You didn’t pull away from him yet. You peered up at him, watching his chest rise and fall. Light snores escape his lips, and now and again, he puffs out a breath like a whale coming up for air, making you chuckle.

You rest your chin on his chest, giving yourself a few seconds to enjoy this before waking him up.

“Kook,” you whisper, gently shaking him. “Kook,” you repeat.

He hums, popping his head up while his eyes are still closed. He flutters them open and immediately sits up, wiping the drool that’s dried on his chin. He clears his throat. “Um—how long was I asleep for?”

You giggle. “We both fell asleep. I blame the beer,” you say, stretching your arms.

Jungkook can’t help but notice the shiny piece of jewelry hanging from your navel. “You have your belly button pierced?” he asks with a raised brow.

You quickly pull down your shirt. “It was a dumb thing I did when I turned 21.”

“It’s cute.”

You shy away from his comment. At times, you forget you have it.

“What else are you hiding, hm?” Jungkook asks.

You scoff. “Nothing. I only have my ears and my belly button pierced.”

“No tattoos?”

Tattoos are cool on other people, and you toyed with the idea of getting one. You were indecisive about what to get.

You shook your head no. “Maybe one day.”

“Get one for your 30th. I’ll go with you. I know a guy,” he teases, pointing out the ink on his skin.

“You gonna hold my hand the entire time?”

He grins. “Anything for the wifey.”

A tattoo, huh? You’ve always wanted to see how high your pain threshold was. “I’ll think about it.”

“Just let me know, and I’ll get an appointment with the guy I always go to. I only trust him.”

Jungkook stands, proceeding to clean up the mess you two made.

“Oh, no. Leave it. I’ll clean it up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s late. We should get some sleep.”

He looks at the clock. It’s nearly midnight, and he still needs to wash up.

You walk him to the door, holding it open for him to leave. “Kook?”

Jungkook turns to you. “Yeah?”

You’re unsure what comes over you, but you pull him in for a hug. Only this time, it doesn’t feel like a friendly hug. It takes a moment for him to register what’s happening, then he wraps his arms around you. Every ounce of his body presses against yours, and you fit perfectly into him like a puzzle piece. His fresh, clean scent invades your nose, and you wish it could linger for a bit longer while his hand snakes to the nape of your neck, fingers curling in your hair.

Why do you feel more vulnerable when sleeping next to him now than earlier? Is it because you’re awake and aware of your intentions? The question was, what were your intentions? Did you want this? Did you really want him?

You withdrew from the embrace, bidding him farewell. He gives a small wave before disappearing into the elevator.

As you enter your apartment and shut the door, you repeatedly knocked the back of your head against it, muttering, ‘fuck.’ You were playing along to see how far Jungkook would go before calling it quits, but you failed to see that maybe—just maybe you could be falling too.

Hoseok’s minding his business, eating his ramen when he sees his roommate walk in. Jungkook looks like he’s floating on cloud nine, beaming from ear to ear. There’s even a hop in his step. He twirls around, daintily sitting beside Hoseok.

Hoseok scans his friend, watching him as he breathes a happy sigh and stares into the distance.

“What’s going on with you?” He raises a brow and narrows his eyes.

Jungkook giggles and scrunches his shoulders. “I just came back from cuddling with ___,” he says as he continues in his reveries.

“Oh, boy. Everyone, can I please have your attention,” Hoseok cups his mouth into a megaphone, “Jeon Jungkook has officially gone off the deep end. He thinks being delulu is the solulu.”

Jungkook glares at his friend and kicks him under the table. “Yah–aren’t you supposed to be rooting for me?”

Hoseok slurps his noodles. “Of course, I’m rooting for you. You’re my best bud,” he says as he places a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” he pats Hoseok’s hand. “Now–be an even better friend, and let me raid your closet for ___’s party.”

Jungkook lies in bed; his bicep flexes when he moves his hand behind his head. He’s watching an array of colors flash across the vastness of his room. The northern lights and stars twirl and sparkle like the movements of butterflies and the ones milling around his stomach for days.

Is this what being in love feels like, he thinks. It’s like he’s living in the romance movies he’s watched. Boy meets girl, boy, and girl fall in love, and they live happily ever after.

This is it. This must be it. His chance to be with you–the one he’s fallen completely head over heels for.

If the Jungkook from four years ago were to see him today, he’d laugh and call him a simp, especially with how he’s at your beck and call.

But the Jungkook, from four years ago, was a cynic. He had no healthy or loving relationships around him until he met you through Hoseok. And, even though you were with someone at the time, he saw how kind and wonderful you were to your friends and could only imagine the kind of love you’d show toward someone special.

There were only a few more days until your party, and he was determined to make each day count.

wednesday.

Since Monday, Jungkook has surprised you every day with a gift. They were his attempts to make you fall in love with you, along with his random trips to your place.

Today’s gift was a pair of pink seashell earrings. Jungkook tells you he spent hours making it from clay, then baked them in the oven. You shook your head, wondering how he got an idea like this. Nonetheless, it was a sweet gift.

He texted throughout the day, leaving cute words of encouragement or sending TikToks of funny videos he’d find. Maybe this was his love language, taking the time out of his day to let you know he’s thinking about you.

As your day winds down, you’re scrolling through YouTube, and what catches your eye at 7 p.m.? Dessert videos.

And that’s your worst toxic trait—thinking you can bake. It always looks easy enough. If they can do it, so can you.

That is, until you’re in the kitchen, halfway through a recipe, and notice you’re out of sugar. The grocery store is too far and will close when you get there.

See what happens when you decide to bake? It always goes differently than you want.

You could call Jungkook to see if he has any or walk over to your new neighbor’s place. The latter was plausible since Namjoon was only a few feet away.

You shook off the nerves, flattened your apron, and lightly knocked on Namjoon’s door. You could hear shuffling as he unlocked it.

Your eyes widened, standing like a deer caught in headlights. Namjoon’s half-naked, black shorts hung dangerously low on his waist. His forehead is glistening with sweat.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” you ask while trying to keep your gaze in line with his and not ogling his chiseled body.

Shit—maybe he had company over.

He cards his hand through his platinum blonde hair, but a few pieces fall back, covering his eyes. “No, you’re good. I just finished working out. What’s up?” he asks. His hand holds the door open as he leans against it.

You’re dumbfounded, unable to form words again. It’s like a giant hairball stuck in your throat.

Namjoon’s brows raise, and he calls out to you.

“Oh, sorry!” you say. “I’m attempting to bake a cake but I'm out of sugar. I wanted to ask if you have any I can borrow.”

“I think I do,” he ponders as he steps back. “Come in. Come in.”

You step into a squeaky clean apartment. Didn’t he just move in? How does someone unpack so quickly? Or maybe he had little to begin with.

His apartment was like a museum, with pottery, sculptures, and art prints adorning his walls and shelves. But what catches your attention is the translucent, cylindrical coffee table. It doesn’t seem like anyone should be putting anything on it.

Namjoon stands beside you, holding a jar of sugar.

“Ah, thank you so much! Now my cake batter won’t go to waste.”

“Anything catch your fancy?” he asks.

Granted, this man is still half-naked, standing beside you. You’re trying not to go feral over how broad and built he is.

“This, actually,” you point to the glass coffee table.

“That’s probably one of my most prized possessions.”

“It looks expensive.” You’d later come to find out it was worth $1.2M after you did an internet search.

“It is,” he chuckles. “It’s on loan from a friend.”

“On loan?” you ask, turning to him. Your eyes narrow and lips thin. “Can I ask what you do for work?”

“I’m an art curator.”

That makes sense now, considering the expensive and extensive art collection.

“Oh—you’re so fancy,” you tease. “I don’t know shit about art.” You could stand before a painting and feel nothing while looking at it. Maybe you were just going in with the wrong mindset.

Namjoon chuckles. “You can always ask me questions,” he notes before walking away to put on a t-shirt.

You’re a bit disappointed that you can’t ogle him anymore.

“Well, I can’t ask you questions if you don’t take me to a museum,” you flirt, turning toward him.

He grins, showing off his pearly whites and dimple deeply etched into his left cheek. “Are you asking me to ask you out on a date?”

You can’t help but play dumb. “Oh no, of course not! I would like your expertise to guide me around a museum, and if we happen to eat afterward, then I don’t know—would you call that a date?”

Namjoon licks his lips and nods, impressed by your boldness. “Are you busy Friday night?”

The cake wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great either. You’d have to keep perfecting it and maybe keep asking to ‘borrow’ some sugar from your neighbor.

You debated whether you should tell Jungkook about your date with Namjoon. It’s a harmless date; Jungkook would be off the hook if it goes well. Besides, it’s a silly agreement you two made up while drunk.

But, you’d sleep on it and figure it out tomorrow. There was one more day before the date anyway.

As you were sitting in bed, doing your nightly scrolling through social media. A video call comes through.

KooKoo-Ca-Choo Incoming Video Call

You're on your side when you answer his call. “Hey, Kook,” you say before covering a yawn.

“Ready for bed?” he asks, shuffling underneath his duvet.

Your eyes scan the screen, and you notice his bare shoulders and collarbone on display. You never realized his tattooed sleeve reached so high on his arm, scantily kissing the top of his shoulder.

You cleared your throat. "Yeah, about to call it a night. What's up?"

"I just wanted to call and see how your day was. I was busy at work, so I didn't get to text you," he says.

Now that you think about it, the last text you received from him was this morning. And since the start of your little agreement, Jungkook has been texting and calling more than usual.

"I worked, then attempted to bake a cake."

He props the phone against something as he lies on his side, and parts of his hair still look damp from a shower. And you hate how cuddly he looks while he’s in bed and how you can see how much he works out just from the outline of his arms.

And no—you aren’t thinking about anything else.

"How'd it turn out?"

You shook your head in disgust. "Not very good."

"Ah, I'm sure it was great."

"I'll stick to store-bought cake for now."

"Next time, we can do it together and fail."

He wants to do everything with you, huh?

You chuckle at his comment and then say what’s on your mind, "I never realized how far your tattoo sleeve went up."

He peers at his shoulder. "Oh yeah," he leans forward to show you, his bicep flexing as he moves.

"Cool guy."

He chuckles. "Hardly cool. Just bored," he says. "So, should I schedule you for your tattoo?"

Since the last conversation, you've been scrolling through Pinterest and Instagram to get some ideas.

"I think I want the birth flower for September."

Jungkook shows you his arm, pointing to his tiger lily tattoo. "This one is for the actual day of birth, but the flower for the month of September is pretty too. Have you thought about placement?"

"Mm, maybe on the back of my neck or the inside of my arm. What do you think?" You show him your arm, then the back of your neck.

"It would look great on the back of your neck. It could be a nice surprise when you have your hair up."

"Oh–I like that idea."

He props himself up on the side with a wide grin. "So, I'm booking your appointment?"

You chuckle. "Yeah, why not? We only live once, right?"

Turning 30 is making your confidence go up.

“Once you get one, you’ll want more. Trust me.”

“At least I’ll have a tattoo buddy for life,” you tease.

“Ah, see, I like the way you’re thinking. Well, I should let my wifey get to sleep,” he gives a small smile. He reaches for his phone, placing it on his chest. His other hand is behind his head as he watches you through the screen.

You hum in agreement. “Night.”

“Night.”

Daydreams are one thing, and when Jungkook lies in bed, he can't help but wonder.

Wonder how you’d look in his favorite t-shirt. Wonder which side of the bed you prefer. Wonder if you dream of him, too. Wonder what it’s like to be loved by you.

Jungkook doesn’t want to wonder anymore; he wants to make you his reality.

thursday.

The birthday festivities started early for you as you requested today and tomorrow off. There’s no way you’re spending your last few days of being 29 stuck at work.

Today’s agenda consisted of a pedicure. The toes have to look cute with your new heels, and as you’re ready to head out to your appointment, Jungkook is at your door when you open it.

You tilt your head, knitting your eyebrows together. “Did we have something planned?”

He shakes his head no and pouts. “No, I wanted to surprise you with another gift.”

He hands you a gift bag, and you take a small peek, reaching down to grab the gift. You pull out a peach-shaped heart bath bomb.

“Peach?” You raise a brow and give a smug grin. “What makes you think I like peach?”

Jungkook snorts. “Oh, pfft–I don’t know. Could it be all the candles or soap? Or how you always order any type of peach-flavored alcohol? Tea? Or–”

You suck in your lips, then give a thin smile. “Son of a peach.”

“Very cute. You’re also great at fruit puns. I’ll add that to the list of reasons why I like you,” he chuckles.

To be fair, everything in your apartment had a hint of peach–your candles, air freshener, hand soap, ChapStick, and not to mention a cupboard full of peach tea.

You chuckle. “Thanks, Kook. You didn’t have to.��

“I do if I’m trying to make you fall in love with me.”

You set the bath bomb back in its bag, then on the entryway table. You close the door behind you, forcing him to step back.

“You talk a lot about making me fall in love with you, but you’ve still failed to do so. It’s almost my birthday,” you tease.

What girl wouldn’t want gifts, but you thought he’d push a bit harder.

Jungkook smirks, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. He steps closer to you–close enough for you to smell his cologne. It’s a fresh, clean scent.

He’s inches away from you. Warmth is radiating off of him. Your heart is practically beating out of your chest. Your eyes are on his, then focus on his lip ring, then the freckle underneath his bottom lip. It’s the first time you’ve been close enough to notice it.

His eyes dart back and forth between yours. His tongue wets his lips, then plays with his ring. “I’m just getting started,” he says.

You close your eyes, fluttering them back open. There’s relief escaping your body once he backs away.

“So, what are we doing today?” he asks, stepping out of the way to let you lead.

“I have a pedicure appointment. Wanna come?” you ask. You wouldn’t mind having company around, and you’re curious how he’ll continue to sweep you off your feet.

You feel bad for the poor woman who has Jungkook in her seat, and you’re trying your best not to laugh as he’s squirming, clutching onto the armrests.

You clear your throat. “Is this your first pedicure?”

“What? No,” he counters, but he’s giggling non-stop, holding on for dear life.

“Sir–I need you to stop moving,” the woman warns.

You cover your mouth. Your shoulders are bouncing due to your giggles. “Kook, she hasn’t even done anything to you yet.”

“How the hell do women do this? This is torture.”

“Can’t handle a little torture?”

He perks up, shaking off the chills. The woman continues to scrub his feet with a pumice stone. He’s sucking in his lips, trying not to laugh and smile when she gets to the underside of his foot. Then his reflexes get the best of him, and he almost kicks her.

The woman gives him a blank expression but is professional and continues as fast as possible.

An hour later, Jungkook is coming out of the nail salon, sweating bullets from the endless torture of a pedicure.

You look at him and then his toes. “At least your toes are cute.” He let you choose the color, and you had to choose hot pink to match your birthday theme for this weekend.

He does the walk of shame in a pair of yellow flimsy flip-flops because he wasn’t prepared for a pedicure. You’ve been there, done that.

You link your arms to him when you catch up to him. “Hungry?”

Jungkook groans in delight. “You have to try this.”

He leans forward. A piece of his roasted chicken ravioli covered in pink sauce looks delectable. You open your mouth, devouring the pasta. You close your eyes, savoring it.

“See, what did I tell you?” He smiles, going back to his bowl of food. “How’s yours?”

You didn’t want to say you didn’t like it–but you hate it. “It’s good,” you smile and lie through your teeth.

You begin moving the ravioli around, pretending to make it look like you'll eat it.

Jungkook sets his fork down, pushing his bowl toward you. “Here, take mine.”

You look up at him. “What? No–I like my food,” you lie again, grabbing your bowl and clutching it closer to you.

He deadpans. “I’ve known you long enough to know when you don’t like something. Come on, I’ll finish your food, and you can have mine.”

You let go of your bowl. “Are you sure?”

Jungkook smiles warmly, his small dimple on display as he nods. He grabs your bowl and begins to eat it.

Your heart softens, and you’re enchanted by your friend/potential future husband, so it pains you to have this conversation. You tossed and turned the night before because you couldn’t bear the thought of locking your friend into something he'll regret later on.

“So, you might not have to marry me,” you say.

Jungkook looks up at you, tilting his head in confusion. “Damn, someone beat me to it?” he jokes.

You flash a thin smile and shake your head no. “Well, I have a crush on my new neighbor.”

He raises an eyebrow. “New neighbor?”

You nod. “Yeah, he just moved in.”

Jungkook nibbles on the inside of his mouth then continues to eat. “You barely know the guy, and you’re already tossing me aside?” He tuts, shaking his head.

“I’m–I’m not tossing you aside. You’re still an option, but I’m just saying if it works out with the new neighbor, then you’re off the hook. I'm sure there are better girls out there than me, Kook. You don’t want to be married to me.”

He sets his fork down, pushing his bowl forward. “Well, what can I say? You can’t see the guy?”

“So, you’re okay if I see him?”

Jungkook hesitates to answer. “Mm,” he hums with a nod.

“Are you upset with me?”

“Why would I be upset?” He shrugs. “I’m only a back-up.”

His answer gives you a sense of relief, but you also feel guilty about everything. “Should we end our little deal? That way, you don’t have to be stuck with me for the rest of your life. It seems silly now that we’re both sober and not drunk making promises like this.”

He hums and nods again. “You’re right. It does seem foolish.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin. "I'll go pay while you finish up."

You watch him get up and walk to the register. His demeanor changes as soon as you mention ending the deal.

Is he serious about this?

Honestly, you’re stumped by Jeon Jungkook and his intentions. If he did like you, why not ask you out like an average person? Why go through the trouble of marrying you? So that you could fulfill some silly goal you had for your life?

“I’ll walk you up,” Jungkook says as he turns off the car.

“It’s fine, Kook. You don’t have to,” you counter.

On the ride back, guilt has been eating you from the inside out. You’re unsure why you feel this way–maybe because you feel like a shitty friend. Saying one thing and then doing another.

But again, marriage is a serious thing for two people to consider.

Jungkook doesn’t waver in his decision and escorts you anyway. The silence is deafening in the elevator; the two of you stand at opposite sides, stealing glances. There’s an elephant in the room, but neither of you addresses it.

When the elevator doors open, you expel the caught breath in your throat. Jungkook follows a few steps behind you.

“Are we okay?” you ask, glancing at him before lowering your head.

He stuffs his hand in his pants pocket. “Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?”

“I don’t know. I feel like an ass because you’ve been such a good friend–especially after my breakups. And then this past week, you’ve been sweet and cute with all the little gifts and hangouts,” you pause to look at him.

His eyes are big and innocent, and his lips form a slight pout. He’s intently listening to your words.

“I’m trying to say I’ve enjoyed being with you this week, and I’m sorry how things turned out,” you manage to spit out.

Jungkook nibbles on his lip, showing off his pretty dimple. His eyes dart to yours as he flashes a thin smile. “Well, I’ll always be your back-up if this guy doesn’t work out.”

You breathe a sigh of relief that he can still joke about this situation. You close the distance between you, reaching up and draping your arms around his neck.

It takes a moment for him to return your hug, but he does–wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing you into him. He nuzzles in the crook of your shoulder, taking in your sweet scent and softness.

Your heart’s fluttering, your stomach is somersaulting and doing back-flips. Jungkook’s warmth is all-encompassing, encapsulating every fiber of your being. Neither of you let go, allowing this embrace to go longer than usual friends do.

When you pull away, your lips are so close to his. Close enough to explore what they taste like. Close enough to see how plush they are. Close enough to find out just how much you’d have to gasp for air afterward.

You almost want to give in. You almost want to see where this could go. You almost want him to make a move.

Jungkook whispers your name, and you hum, gazing into his eyes. “Are you sure about this? About the deal? You don’t want it anymore?”

You're becoming lost in the stars and galaxies contained in those doe eyes. Jungkook doesn’t lose focus, doesn’t break character, and doesn’t give you a chance to run away.

“This stops when you say so,” he utters softly.

He’s unrelenting, you think. He wants this, doesn’t he? He wants you.

So these next few words sting. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Jungkook doesn’t even realize when he’s outside his apartment complex. He sits in his car, zoning out. He’s so close to finally getting you, but now there’s someone else?

For two years, he’s been trying to buck up the courage and finally ask you out, and when he finally gets an opportunity, someone always swoops in and steals you away.

When he proposed the agreement, it was more of a joke, that is, until you agreed, and that’s when he knew he’d try whatever it took to get you to the altar.

A knock on Jungkook’s window breaks him from deep thought. He looks up to see his roommate, Hoseok.

He gestures for Jungkook to roll his window down. “Why do you look like you're on the verge of crying? Why don’t you go up to the apartment?”

Jungkook holds onto the steering wheel and groans as his head hits it a few times, muttering, ‘Stupid.’

Hoseok knits his eyebrows in confusion as he rubs his friend’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go,” he says, opening the car door.

Jungkook drags his feet through the threshold and drops his backpack on the floor. He continues walking sluggishly, plopping on the couch, still in a daze.

Hoseok blinks at his friend. “What’s going on?”

“You know how I was trying to make ____ fall in love with me this week?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, she likes her new neighbor.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened. “There's a new guy already? I swear this girl must have some kind of bat signal that’s beaming up into the sky that attracts men the second she’s single.”

Jungkook drops his head back, then rubs his face. “What am I going to do?”

Hoseok shrugs. “Maybe tell her how serious you are about being with her.”

“Yeah, but what if she doesn’t want to be with me?”

“So, you’re going to trap her in a marriage instead?” Hoseok raises an eyebrow. “Make it make sense, my friend.”

Maybe that's what he wanted. It could be like an arranged marriage. Meet first, then fall in love.

“I know it sounds ridiculous!”

Hoseok rubs Jungkook’s shoulder. “This whole deal is ridiculous. Be honest with her, then she’ll have to choose between you and the new guy.”

He knows Hoseok is right. He should be honest and tell you how he feels.

Or he could get rid of the new guy, and the deal would be back on.

Decisions. Decisions.

friday.

Jungkook was determined to make this agreement work out in his favor. He wasn’t going to back down so easily.

He took off early from work, going straight to your favorite bakery to grab a cake. Thoughts are racing through his mind as he clutches the cake box and walks through the crowded street.

What if this was his last chance? What if this new guy was ‘the one’ for you? He couldn’t let you slip away again.

He’s even prepared a monologue. He’s mumbling it under his breath when he arrives at your door.

When the door opens, he doesn’t find you. Instead, he finds a half-naked man with broad shoulders and impeccable pecs.

Jungkook stands tall and puffs out his chest, back straight, when he sees this unknown man. His mouth is agape as he scans him from head to toe. Was this the guy you were talking about?

He clears his throat and stands his ground. “Oh, uh, who are you?”

“Hey, man. I’m Namjoon. ___’s neighbor,” he says.

“I’ll be right out!” you yell from the other room.

Jungkook clenches his jaw, and he’s trying to calm his nerves. There’s no way you were sleeping with this guy already, right? No, you can’t be, Jungkook shakes the thought from his head.

You sprint from the hallway, holding a shirt. With your clumsy ways, you spilled iced coffee on Namjoon’s shirt right before your date. You felt bad, so you offered to wash it for him.

“Namjoon, I’m so sorry! I’ve tried everything to get it out. I might have to buy you a new shirt–oh,” you gasp. “Hi, Jungkook.”

Jungkook walks in, setting the box down, and he doesn’t say anything else as he leans against the counter, watching you two.

Namjoon sucks in his lips, strolling to your side, looking at his stained shirt. “Don’t worry about it. It was time to get rid of that shirt anyway.” He gives a reassuring smile. “I’m gonna grab a new shirt, then we’ll be on our way?”

You hum. “See you soon.”

Jungkook’s eyes follow you and Namjoon as you bid him farewell. You lower your head and purse your lips when you approach Jungkook.

“Date night?” he asks, turning to you.

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you from your date. Just wanted to drop off a cake I picked up for you,” he points to the box on the counter.

You see the bakery's name on the box, and it’s from your favorite place. You undo the tabs and unfold the box to reveal a heart-shaped cake with various shades of baby pink and blue, then sitting prettily on top is one of your favorite Sanrio characters: Cinnamoroll.

“Kook–you didn’t just pick this up.” A cake like this was ordered well in advance.

His eyebrows rise, and he gives a half-smile. He walks beside you. “Happy early birthday,” he says as his eyes flick to yours. “See you tomorrow.”

When the door shuts, you wince.

Namjoon has a brilliant mind, and that intimidates you. He's far too intelligent and reasonable for a hopeless romantic who lives in their daydreams and wants a ring on their finger by tomorrow.

The two of you come to a crowded spot in the museum. You look back and smile at Namjoon. He puts his hands on your waist, guiding you from behind. Your stomach somersaults from the affection, but you continue leading the way through the sea of people, trying not to focus on it.

An announcement reminds museum go-ers that they’ll be closing in 15 minutes.

“Should we head out soon?” you ask with disappointment. You thoroughly enjoyed hearing Namjoon talk even though you had nothing insightful to say about the numerous art pieces.

The corners of his mouth curve up. “But we have one more exhibit to see,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. He holds out his hand for yours.

You’re intrigued, so you don’t question and place your hand in his.

Everyone starts to file out toward the exit, but the two of you enter an exhibit hidden away in the back.

“Aren’t we going to get in trouble?” you ask.

He chuckles. “You’re cute,” he says before showing you his work ID and security badge.

“Oh,” you giggle. It makes sense. Namjoon did say he was an ‘art curator.’ He just never mentioned where he worked.

“Feel free to look around and tell me if anything catches your eye.”

You take your time, roaming around, going from piece to piece. Namjoon stays in place, waiting until you’ve found something. You tilt your head, examining the drawing.

[ frida castelli, milan ]

It's a woman. Her back is bare, and she's curling her hands into the bedsheets. The drawing is cut off right at the small of her back, and one can assume the rest. It's erotic–as this exhibit displays various works from modern artists.

Namjoon stands beside you. “Thoughts?”

Horny, you think, but considering this is your first date. You probably shouldn’t blurt it out.

“I like the position she's in,” you say, and Namjoon chokes on nothing. You cover your mouth and can’t help but laugh.

“I like that position too,” he adds.

You try to suppress your smile because now, you’re thinking about the two of you in that position.

"Should we keep looking?"

After a late-night dinner, you’re standing outside your door, not wanting to say goodbye to Namjoon. You’d invite him in, but tomorrow’s a big day, and you have an early wake-up call.

“I hope I was able to answer your questions,” Namjoon says, leaning his shoulder against the door, facing you.

You give him a small smile, looking at the floor, then back up at him. "I think you answered everything."

He hums and parts his lips. "Well, I have one question for you, if that's okay."

You nod.

"Can I give the birthday girl a kiss?"

You lick your lips. "It's not my birthday yet."

Namjoon steps forward, scanning your face. "You can consider it an early birthday present."

"Well, I won't say no to a birthday present."

Your heart is swooning over this tall, handsome man. He’s perfect. He's brilliant and well-spoken. Someone secure and confident, even emotionally available. You’d be a fool not to want this to go further.

Your gaze darts back and forth between his eyes and his lips, unsure how to respond. You've been wondering what they taste like all night and want to kiss the freckle underneath his lip. They look so rosy and pillowy, almost like kissing a cloud.

He softly presses his lips against yours. His big hands cup your face. His nose brushes against your cheek. His lips encapture your top lip, then your bottom. He lingers briefly before pulling away, his lips ghosting over yours, and you want to return for more–you’re not done.

“Do that again,” you whisper.

His breath is warm, and he smiles before going back in, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Your hands are placed on his taut chest, fingers curling and tugging on his shirt. The butterflies in your stomach are yearning for a way out. The desire in you grows deeper. You’re breathless at this point, but you don’t care if you never breathe again.

First kisses always make you go weak in the knees, and you wish you could experience them over and over.

“Your lips are stained,” you notice when you pull away.

Namjoon chuckles; his thumb swipes at his bottom lip. “That’s okay.”

He moves in to kiss you again, but you stop him by putting your index finger to his lips. “The birthday girl should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

You render him speechless—he made the first move, but you’ll have the final say.

You bid goodbye to him, trying your best not to linger and give in to your urges. Peering through the viewfinder, you see him smiling and shaking his head before he closes the door to his place.

You’re grinning from ear to ear as your back is against the door. The date couldn’t have gone better–though you probably couldn’t write a dissertation on Modern Art in Korea, you appreciated that he took the time to explain what he loves and why he’s so passionate about it.

Maybe he could be the one.

It’s midnight when you’re under the covers and still glowing from your date with Namjoon.

You check your phone to see text messages from Jungkook.

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 9:22 PM Hey! I found some cool birth flowers. Do you like any of these? [ 5 images attached ]

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 9:27 PM And my tattoo guy had a last-minute cancellation for Monday at 6 p.m. I’m gonna book you for it, okay?

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 10:05 PM I can go to hold your hand if you’d like.

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:11 PM I hope you had a good day. See you tomorrow, birthday girl.

This differed from how you wanted to celebrate your birthday week, especially not how you envisioned your friendship with Jungkook. Did you ruin it?

And that’s when your heart aches as you reflect on this past week. Jungkook has been so sweet, and you feel like the worst friend. Could he be into you, and you’re blind to notice?

But what about Namjoon? He’s undoubtedly checked off all the boxes you could want in a partner.

Plus, Jungkook’s just a back-up.

saturday.

The sun is peeking through, and the birds are chirping away. You’ve slept through your alarm because you’re still in dreamland.

You’re unsure who’s in bed with you. All you hear is a groan and shuffling as they reposition themselves. You peer over your shoulder, quickly turning away when they pull themselves closer to you. Then, as an arm comes into view, draping over you, you recognize the inked skin.

It’s Jungkook.

A buzz from your phone and a bang at the door awakens you. Missed notifications of calls and texts from Jenn, your best friend, flood your screen.

You sprint to the door, unlocking and opening it for her.

“Jesus Christ—I thought you were dead,” Jenn says after she brushes past you, setting several bags on your kitchen counter.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, babe,” she blinks, giving you the once-over. “You haven’t showered, have you?”

You shake your head no.

“Well, go! It’s your birthday, but we can’t wait all day for you.” She shoos you off to the bathroom.

When you’re out of the shower, Jenn’s sitting in front of your vanity, putting on her blush.

“So, how are you doing, babe? Still not over Theodore Boner?”

“Bonner,” you correct her.

You adjust your towel, tucking it securely. “There’s been some new developments,” you say, walking to your dresser.

Jenn slowly turns around. “Please don’t tell me you’re back with him? He was a walking red flag. Well, at the end of your relationship anyway.”

You press your lips together, shaking your head. “You know that time I was upset about my break-up with Jimin?”

Jenn hums and narrows her eyes.

“Jungkook and I went out and got pretty drunk.”

She leans forward. “Uh-huh.”

You cleared your throat. “I may have agreed that if Jungkook and I were still single by 30, we’d get married.” You turned around, opening the top drawer in search of cute underwear.

Jenn’s jaw drops. “You’re not going to marry Jeon Jungkook, are you?”

You laugh it off. “No, of course not! But he’s always been there for me after my break-ups.”

“Oh, how convenient that he also happens to be single by your 30th birthday,” she says dryly.

“Jungkook’s been a good friend, and if we were to get married, and that’s a big if, then honestly, I think we’d be pretty good together,” you explain.

You're not sure if you're attempting to persuade Jenn or yourself. You’re not going to lie. You’ve toyed with the idea this whole week.

“Why don’t you just date Jungkook then?” she asks, returning to add more blush to her cheeks.

You nibble on your bottom lip. “Err–well, because there’s a new guy.”

She whips her head back around. “I go on a solo trip, and you have not one but two guys who want to be with you?”

“Technically, I told Jungkook that if things work out with me and Namjoon, he doesn’t have to marry me.”

“Namjoon?”

“Yeah, he’s my new neighbor.”

“Shut up! Your neighbor?” Jenn stands, sprinting out your bedroom door. “Which apartment? I need to see this man.”

“Jenn!” You run after her, clutching her arm, trying to pull her back. “Stop it, will you? He’ll be at the party tonight.”

Jenn turns to you. “Babe–you have Jungkook and new neighbor guy vying for your attention? Sheesh. When can I be the main character?”

You grip your towel and drag her back to your room.

“At least tell me more juicy details,” she whines.

Jungkook checks himself out in the mirror. Hot pink usually is not part of his wardrobe color, but he does it in a heartbeat if it involves you and your silly antics.

He slips the hot pink denim jacket over his white shirt and matching pink cargo trousers. He adds a neon green necklace to finish off his look.

This outfit is Ken-esque, right? He sighs, wishing you could be the Barbie to his Ken.

His roommate, Hoseok, knocks on his door, breaking his focus. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”

Jungkook nibbles the inside of his cheek. This week’s been a rollercoaster of emotions for him. He was at an all-time high before you broke the news that you no longer need a back-up.

He’s gone back and forth, debating whether to fight for you or give up.

"I don't know yet," Jungkook responds. He glances at Hoseok through the mirror's reflection.

“Tell her how you feel. Be honest with her,” Hoseok says. He’s been telling Jungkook for two years now.

Jungkook turns around. “I can’t–” he pauses and huffs a breath, taking a seat on the bed.

Hoseok narrows his eyes and crosses his arms as he leans against the door frame. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve done too much shit by breaking up her relationships. She’ll never forgive me,” Jungkook explains.

Hoseok choked on nothing. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Remember Jimin and Theo?”

Hoseok hums.

Jungkook clears his throat. “I may or may not have told some harmless lies that ended up in them breaking up with her.”

Hoseok huffs out a breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know why you didn’t tell her right off the bat that you wanted to date her.”

“I’m an idiot, that’s why, and now it’s too late. She doesn’t want me. She wants the neighbor guy.”

Hoseok sits by his friend. “It’s either now or never. You can’t keep breaking up her relationships because you’re too scared to be in a real one with her. You don’t want to start it off that way.”

Jungkook flings himself onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I know! I’ve just never done this before. I don’t know how to act. She’s the first person I’ve had actual feelings for.”

Hoseok blinks at his friend, ready to say something, but Jungkook interrupts him. “Don’t say shit about that–many people don’t meet the right person until later in life.”

He holds his hands up in defeat. “There’s no judgment from me, my friend. Just consider my words before anyone gets hurt.”

You swipe the lip tint across your bottom lip and repeat with the top. Glancing in the mirror, you adjust your dusty rose dress and tie your matching ribbon in your hair.

The theme for tonight's party is Barbie core, and individuals are encouraged to wear any shade of pink. You’re ridiculous, but you only turn 30 once–why not go all out?

Buckets of bubbly are filled with rosé bottles and floral ice cubes. Barbie-esque props, including heart-shaped sunglasses and cut-out foam lips, are ready to be used at the photo booth. You’ve spent too much time on Pinterest planning the perfect celebration.

It’s ten to seven and still too early for people to show, so you order a Malibu Barbie cocktail at the bar. Jin, the bartender, even tops off your drink with pink sanding sugar for this special occasion and throws in a little peach schnapps.

“There’s the birthday girl.”

When you turn around, you see Jungkook in a bright pink attire. Not every day you see him dressed in anything other than black or white, so you consider this a rare treat.

He offers you a warm hug, and you both act as if nothing has changed. It’s not like you’ve seen him every day as he’s dropped off gifts for you, or he willingly watched a rom-com and definitely hadn’t cuddled.

It’s like you’ve gone back to being just friends.

As you withdraw, you give him the once-over. “You look great in hot pink. I wish I got to see your matching toes.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I don’t think sandals would go with this outfit.”

You shake your head no.

“You look amazing,” he adds, taking your hand and making you twirl for him.

“Thanks, Kook,” you grin. Your hand lingers in his as he delicately caresses your skin. The back of your neck is warming up, and you can’t help but wonder if you’ve made a mistake breaking off your deal.

“Ah, there’s our Barbie girl!” Jenn exclaims as she approaches you. Immediately, you let go of Jungkook’s hand.

“Hey!” you answer, rubbing the back of your neck. “What’s up? Did you need something?”

Jenn raises her brow at you and Jungkook. “I did, but you’re busy with Ken, so I’ll ask Hoseok to help me. Enjoy your night, babe.”

You take your drink and dash off with Jenn, telling Jungkook you’ll see him later. As you stroll behind her, you loop your arm around hers.

“Are you okay?” Jenn narrows her eyes, suppressing a smile.

You clear your throat. “Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It looks like you and loverboy were having a moment there before I interrupted,” she says, setting down the flower vase on the dessert table.

“He’s not my loverboy. I’m gonna start seeing Namjoon, remember?”

“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that. Look–all I’m saying is you should give Jungkook a chance. Anyone could tell he’s head over heels in love with you.”

You choke on your drink. “What? How come no one’s ever told me?”

Jenn laughs. “I never put two and two together until you mentioned your little agreement with him this morning,” she pauses, cupping your face. “And my sweet, innocent Barbie girl, he shoots heart eyes whenever you’re around.” She holds your chin, turning you in Jungkook’s direction.

Jungkook is leaning on the bar, attempting to find the perfect stance to appear cool, but he has no idea what to do with himself. He peers in your direction, catching your gaze, and quickly turns away, waving down the bartender.

She continues, “You’ve been with so many knockoff Kens that you were blind to the real one. He’s a bit of a goofball, but he seems sweet, and like you mentioned today, he’s always around when you’re in need.”

What if your decision was a mistake? Would it be too late to change your mind? You were sure Jungkook had already moved on after being rejected.

You watch while Jungkook drinks something–you figure it's vodka. A shot for yourself seems enticing, simply to settle your anxieties.

Your birthday is supposed to be filled with joy, laughter, and celebration, not you being torn between two great guys.

The party is in full swing–the music’s blaring, friends laughing, chattering, drinking away. Everyone has arrived except for the one person you've been looking for: Namjoon.

You giggle when you scan the room and see Hoseok and Jungkook dancing in the corner. When your eyes catch him, he gestures for you to come dance, but you haven’t had enough alcohol to make a fool of yourself.

He sprints to you, grabbing your hand and dragging you along. “You need a drink before you dance, huh?”

Your lips thin, and you think, how does he know you so well?

You nod and follow him from behind. You stare blankly as his hands are loosely intertwined with yours. He’s leading you through the crowd, letting go once you’re at the bar’s counter.

“Do you still want that pink drink thingy you had earlier?”

“Surprise me,” you say.

“Two Pink Cadillacs, please,” he says to Jin.

As Jin gets to work on your drinks, Jungkook makes small talk to kill time.

“Are you having fun?” he asks, standing before you. He sways to the song's beat, grinning from ear to ear.

You’d have more fun if you weren’t thinking about him and Namjoon all night. Considering that Namjoon hasn’t even shown up yet, you appreciate that Jungkook’s a sweet and caring friend.

“I’ll be having more fun once I have this drink,” you say over the music.

“You’re not having fun with me?” he jokes, holding out his hand for yours, and of course, you take it.

He draws you to him, makes you twirl around, and then dips you. A slight squeal escapes your lips when you come back up.

Jungkook chuckles. “Sorry, I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“No, I’m–I’m having a good time,” you answer his previous question.

“Are you sure? It looks like something’s on your mind,” Jungkook notes. "You can always talk to me, you know."

Even after breaking off your agreement, he's still willing to be a good friend to you. How'd you get so lucky with someone like him?

"I know," you smile, draping your arms around his neck.

"Two Pink Cadillacs."

You break away from him, grabbing your drink. The two of you sip on them, watching the crowd.

"Jungkook, one. Hot sexy neighbor, zero," Jenn whispers in your ear before walking away.

You clench your jaw and narrow your eyes at her. It’s been an hour, and Namjoon is still nowhere to be seen. Maybe something came up. Things happen. You get it.

"What's going on with Jenn?" he asks.

"Nothing," you reply as you move to stand before him. "You know how she is."

Jungkook takes another sip of his drink. “Hey, can I talk to you about something?”

Your eyes widen and flick to him. Have you been obvious about what’s on your mind?

“Yeah, of course–” you say before a hand slides on the small of your back. You turn to see the man who’s been MIA, Namjoon.

“Hey, birthday girl. I’m sorry I’m late! It was a lot harder to find a pink outfit than I thought,” Namjoon chuckles, then he sees that he may have interrupted something. “Oh–hey, man! Jungkook, right?”

Jungkook gives a small smile, and you mouth, ‘Sorry.’

“Can I steal you away for a second?” Namjoon asks, and you oblige.

Namjoon takes your hand, ready to drag you off, but you stop and return to Jungkook. “Can we talk later?”

He nods. “Yeah, of course. It’s your birthday. Go have fun. I’ll talk to you later.”

Jungkook looks on as you and Namjoon disappear. You laugh when he says something, and Jungkook can hear it–you always let out a tiny squeak, your shoulders bounce, and you cover up your mouth because you don't like how your teeth show when you laugh.

He rubs the back of his neck. He’ll have to find time to talk to you later.

Hoseok nudges Jungkook. “Who’s that?”

Jungkook sips his drink and inhales sharply. “Her neighbor.”

“They look pretty cozy to me,” Hoseok remarks. “Go say something before it’s too late.”

It’s already too late, Jungkook thinks. He’s lost you again. What’s the point if he tried with you and you didn’t want him?

He chugs the drink and orders another round for him and Hoseok. He might as well enjoy the booze while he can–at least it would get you off his mind.

Jungkook's vision is blurred, speech slurred. Even though he sees double, his gaze is still fixed on you and Namjoon, following you wherever you go: the photo booth, the bar, the dance floor. Namjoon’s hands haven’t left you, whether holding your hand or soft touches on the small of your back.

It should be him, he thinks, but he’s been turned down before. He couldn't imagine being rejected twice.

He leans on a high-top table, rhythmically tapping his fingers against it. A few of your friends drag you off to the photo booth for the umpteenth time tonight, and Namjoon is left waiting for you.

Jungkook waits and observes Namjoon, wondering why you’d choose Namjoon over him. He thinks he could take the guy in the boxing ring. He’s too big and sluggish to move as fast as Jungkook. Indeed, he could knock Namjoon out with his right hook. But if it’s not a physical thing you’re looking for, then it’s an intellectual thing.

He shakes off the self-deprecating thoughts. Why doesn’t he go over and chat the guy up? Get to know him. It won’t hurt to find out what kind of guy he is.

There's a queue of friends waiting to take individual shots with you, and you look over to check whether Namjoon is all right. You notice Jungkook approaching and breathe a sigh of comfort, knowing he'll keep Namjoon company.

Jungkook stands up tall when he’s beside Namjoon. “Lavish party, huh?”

Namjoon turns to him and chuckles. “Yeah, she went all out for her 30th.” He cracks his neck and adjusts his bright pink blazer.

“Since you’ll be around, you should get used to it. ___ throws parties like this all the time.”

“She does?” Namjoon’s eyes widened with concern.

Jungkook pouts and nods. “You think this is bad? Last year, she rented a private island, and everyone who attended had to buy a plane ticket to her party.”

Namjoon gulps.

“Man–and now that you guys are together. I'm wishing nothing but the best for you," Jungkook shakes his head. "The last guy was going through it.”

“Last guy? What happened to the last guy?”

Jungkook glances in your direction, then back to Namjoon. “Oh, you guys haven’t had that conversation yet?”

“What conversation?”

“Let’s just say there was a restraining order involved.”

There’s a look of relief on Namjoon’s face. “Man, that guy must’ve been a psycho.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Oh no, no, no. The restraining order was against her!”

Namjoon shifts his position, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Trust me, you don’t want to get on her bad side. Once, she took a bat to a neighbor’s car, thinking it was her boyfriend’s. Mind you, she was pretty drunk—and it was dark, but when she has an idea that you’re cheating on her, all hell breaks loose,” Jungkook tuts.

“Oh.”

Jungkook chuckles. “And don’t even get me started on her obsession with that one K-pop group, Seventeen. She practically has a shrine in her bedroom. Mingyu’s face is plastered on every square inch of her walls, and when they finally came on tour, she drained so much of her savings flying everywhere to see them—front row, I might add.”

Namjoon clears his throat. “I think I need a drink,” he says.

“But don’t worry, man, you’ll be fine!” Jungkook shouts as Namjoon walks away.

He lowers his head and rubs his face. He blames the alcohol for his stupidity. His string of lies is why you would never want to be with him.

Although Jungkook has spewed many lies to Namjoon, it doesn’t scare him off. The two of you are like two peas in a pod. And when he sees Namjoon jet off somewhere, Jungkook swoops in, hoping he’ll have a chance to talk to you before it’s too late.

“Hey!” Jungkook says out of breath. “Going home?”

“Yeah,” you beam a warm smile. “I’m pretty wiped.”

“I can take you home, and then maybe we can talk?”

You nod. “Mm, that sounds like a plan.”

You’ve always found it easy to talk to Jungkook. Even though he claims not to be good at chitchatting, he knows how to make you smile and laugh.

“Did you see Hoseok and Jenn trying to undress each other?” Jungkook chuckles.

“Jenn claims she thought Hoseok was a Ken doll,” you giggle. “I don’t know why they keep skirting around each other. They should date already.”

You two arrive outside your apartment. You unlock the keypad, leaving the door open. Turning back, you see Jungkook standing there. “Are you gonna come in or talk to me from out there?” you ask, shaking your head.

Jungkook walks through the door, closing it behind himself. He smooths down his pants and fixes the collar of his jacket. His gaze darts around the room as he prepares to say what’s on his mind.

“Can I change, and then we’ll talk?”

Jungkook nods, and you run off to your room.

With a heavy sigh, he takes a seat on the couch. He keeps shifting his weight, but nothing feels right. The sweat on his hands increases as the seconds pass by. He's never done it before, confessed his feelings.

Jungkook had rehearsed like he was up for a big audition but felt he’d stumble over his words and blurt out bleh-bleh-blahs.

You resurface a few seconds later, wearing an oversized t-shirt and what appears to be nothing underneath, but when you sit down, he catches a peek at your shorts.

“You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah, about us.”

You cocked your head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Us?”

A knock on the door interrupts you. Your eyebrows knitted together, wondering who it could be this late at night. When you open it, you find Namjoon.

“Hey! You left your phone at the restaurant,” he says. He acknowledges Jungkook as he steps in.

“Oh, thank you! Ah–don’t leave yet! I have something to give to you, too.” You dash to your room, leaving Jungkook and Namjoon.

There’s a moment before Jungkook breaks the silence. He turns to Namjoon. “That shirt she’s wearing is from her ex-boyfriend. She sleeps in it every night because she misses him.”

Namjoon’s lips thin, and he nods.

“Trust me–you should run while you can,” Jungkook says, shaking his head.

He points to the small Seventeen merch collection sitting on a shelf in your living room. “See. It’s cute and innocent until it’s not.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Namjoon says reluctantly as he turns away, trying to focus on other things until you return.

You leave your room with a bag, handing it to Namjoon. “I washed your shirt and bought you a new one too.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to,” he reaches for the shirt, taking it out.

“I know, but I felt bad about ruining it.”

Namjoon chuckles. "I like how you're giving me a gift on your birthday."

You wave off his comment. "It's nothing. Thanks for returning my phone,” you say, walking him to the door. “I’ll see you later?”

He flashes a grin; his dimples etched deeply into those cheeks. You pull him down to kiss him on the cheek, barely catching the corner of his lips. You let it linger for a second longer, ensuring Jungkook can see it.

“Bye,” you whisper, closing the door behind him.

You stand with your back facing Jungkook. Clenching your jaw and your fists, you huff a breath. Turning around, you stare at the one person you thought was your friend.

“This is my ex-boyfriend’s shirt, and I sleep in it because I miss him?” you deadpan, folding your arms across your chest.

Your glare silences Jeon Jungkook, and his deer-in-the-headlights appearance implies guilt.

You scoff and shake your head in disbelief. “Have you been sabotaging all my relationships? Tell me the truth.”

You remember Jimin and Theo and how conveniently Jungkook had been there after each breakup.

There’s still no word from Jungkook. He’s playing with the invisible hair on his chin before he stands. “Yeah, but it’s only because—”

“Because what!” you exclaim. Never in a million years did you think you’d be yelling at a good friend. “Because you want to marry me? Why didn’t you just ask me out, Kook?”

The nickname causes his heart to ache. His eyes darted to the floor, then at you. “Because...”

You lean forward, waiting for his excuse, but he doesn’t give you one. You’re only met with silence.

“Because you’re the kind of guy who lies and manipulates to get what he wants? Didn’t really think you were that kind of person.”

“I’m not—”

“You are! If you cared about me, you wouldn’t go around spreading lies. And to think I was going to marry you? God–you must think I’m fucking stupid.”

"No, I don't think that at all—" he counters, taking a step toward you, and you take a step back.

Licking your lips, you play with your bottom lip. "I—I don't even know who you are anymore."

"I'm the same person you met two years ago," he says. Jungkook steps toward you again, reaching out for you.

"Don't touch me," you warn. "Don't you ever talk to me again," you say, avoiding his gaze. "You should go, Kook."

Jungkook walks past you. He makes his way to the door—and when it shuts, you flinch.

Approaching your 30s, you figured you’d be crying because you’re likely to have a mid-life crisis and not because one of your good friends has lied to you for the last couple of years.

Jungkook has misled you throughout the week. You don’t know what’s real and what’s not anymore.

Your heart aches from the pain. Why did this hurt more than a breakup? You trusted him, even considered marrying him and spending the rest of your life with him. How could you be so naive? Maybe it was your distorted perception of love and relationships, and that’s how you ended up in this situation.

Maybe it's your fault and no one else's.

sunday.

It’s early. Too early for Jungkook’s taste.

He’s been tossing and turning all night. Wishing he could redo the last two years. Wishing he could’ve been honest from the beginning. Wishing you didn’t hate him right now.

Picking up his phone, he grumbles after seeing the time—six in the morning. There’s no way you’re up, he thinks. And there’s no way you’ll pick up his call either.

He assumes you’ve blocked him—wants nothing to do with him and doesn’t blame you.

The expression on your face is ingrained in his memory, and the lies he told are on a continuous loop. How would he win you back—if you’d let him, that is.

It’s that point in the romantic movie where the love interest finds the courage to go for it. Jungkook has nothing else to lose at this point. It’s now or never.

With your favorite iced coffee and pastry in hand, he’s ready to beg for your forgiveness. Beg for another chance to make things right.

Three knocks strike your door. No answer.

He gives it another moment before doing it again.

And nothing.

He pulls out his phone, searching for your contact. It rings several times and goes to voicemail. At least you didn’t block him, he thinks.

Should he wait here all day? In hopes you’ll leave your apartment?

Unless Namjoon has seen you or knows your whereabouts.

Jungkook figures, why not? What does he have to lose? He’s already lost his dignity.

Another three knocks, only this time it’s on Namjoon’s door. A few moments later, the lock unlatches, and the door opens.

Namjoon’s eyes widened at the sight of Jungkook. “Oh, hey. What’s up?”

“Hey. Have you seen or heard from ___?”

He shakes his head. “Sorry, man. I haven’t.”

The corners of Jungkook’s lips turn down, and he nods. “Fuck,” he mumbles, lowering his head. He turns on his heel, ready to leave.

“Hey, Jungkook?”

He turns back and hums.

“If you like her, be honest with her,” Namjoon says.

Jungkook rubs the back of his neck. “Did ___ tell you?”

Namjoon chuckles and shakes his head no. “I figured you were lying when you said she made everyone fly to a private island. She mentioned that she’s never flown before. So I put two and two together, and it was hard to ignore all the glares you gave me at the party.”

Jungkook closes his eyes, lowering his head. “I’m so sorry about all the lies I told you. None of them were true—except maybe the Mingyu thing. She does have an obsession with that guy.”

He clears his throat. “I’m sorry about coming between you two. But it’s no wonder she likes you. You have your head on straight, unlike me.”

A grin sweeps across Namjoon’s face. “It’s okay. I get it, man. I’ve been there before—not the lying, but I’ve been head over heels for someone. ___ is cool, and you seem like a good guy. Just…don’t give up on her, okay?”

Jungkook’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “What about you guys?”

“Huh? Me and ___?” Jungkook hums. “We’ve been out on one date, and you’ve known her for…?

“Two years.”

“You have more history with her than I do.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell lies.”

Namjoon steps forward, placing a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “You’d be a fool to give up now. Trust me, you don’t want to live with the what ifs and what could have been.”

“Um, here,” Jungkook says, handing Namjoon the iced coffee and pastry bag. “I don’t want it to go to waste.”

He bids Namjoon goodbye, and as he’s driving home, he stares off into space, pondering Namjoon’s words.

What if you never want to talk to him again? What if he loses you?

He only wanted his chance with you; whenever he gathered the courage to do so, someone always came into the picture before him. He’s realized how much his lies caused more harm than good. He was cheating his way into your heart, which is unfair to you and him.

You peek out when the elevator doors open, ensuring the coast is clear. You've seen the missed calls and texts but needed more time to be ready to face Jeon Jungkook. That's why you've been hiding out at Jenn's all day. But alas, you had to go home and face your fears.

Your door accidentally slams when you go in. Shit.

It’s not like Jungkook’s been waiting around for you, right? Though, you didn’t want to make it known that you were home.

Not even ten minutes after you’ve arrived, there’s a knock on your door. Peering through your viewfinder, you check if the coast is clear and unlock your door. You grab Namjoon's hand, pulling him into the apartment.

"Whoa–miss me that much?" he jokes, setting down the iced coffee and pastry bag.

"What's that?"

"Jungkook dropped it off this morning, but you weren't here. Have you been hiding?"

You lower your head. "Yes."

Namjoon licks his lips. “He’s in love with you, you know?”

You ignore the coffee and pastry bag and sit on the couch. “It’s a weird way to show that you like someone by lying and sabotage.”

“I think it’s cute,” Namjoon chuckles, sitting beside you.

Disbelief is written all over your face: eyes wide, brows lifted, jaw open, which only makes him laugh harder.

“You gotta give the guy some credit. He went out of his way to make sure you’d say single so he could finally have his chance with you. That sounds like dedication to me.”

“Is this a weird ‘guy code?’ Am I missing something?”

He shakes his head. “I get where he’s coming from. Does it suck that he lied instead of saying what he wanted? Yeah, but maybe he didn’t know how to say it because he feared he’d say nonsense in front of you. I know the feeling–where you like someone so much, you’re afraid of looking dumb.”

You ponder Namjoon’s words, sipping on your iced coffee. “You seem chatty. Does that mean you don’t go dumb around me?” you ask dryly.

Namjoon laughs. “I get butterflies and excitement every time I walk out my door, hoping I’d bump into you.”

“But?”

“But you should figure things out with Jungkook, and then we’ll go from there.”

It’s silly—the glow-in-the-dark stars that are plastered on your ceiling. Half of them threaten to fall, and the other half are stuck on so tight it’ll take off the paint.

“You’ve never had glow-in-the-dark stars before?” Jungkook asks. “Let’s get some.”

The only reason why they’re up there in the first place is because of him. Jungkook was comforting you after your breakup with Jimin.

You throw your duvet over your head, screaming into it. How could you have been so blind? So stupid? How are you supposed to face him again with your friend group? Or alone?

This past week was perfect—at least, you thought it was. But you’re second-guessing every interaction, every conversation, every laugh, every touch.

If you hadn’t met Namjoon, could you have fallen in love with Jungkook?

The more you thought about it, the more you hated that you were falling for him. Maybe Namjoon was just an excuse not to explore a relationship with Jungkook. Maybe you didn’t want to ruin your friendship, but then again, what did it matter because it’s been sabotaged by Jungkook himself?

How would you get out of this mess?

monday.

A notification ding shows up on your phone.

[ Tattoo appointment - 6 PM ]

Shit. You completely forgot about your tattoo.

You go through your text messages, finding the Instagram profile of Kai, who’s supposed to tattoo you. You frown when you see a cancellation fee and that the cancellation should’ve been done two days before the appointment. Now, you have to mentally prepare yourself for getting your first tattoo.

The recommendations on your YouTube only show videos of ‘how much does getting a tattoo hurt.’ You know the pain that goes into a needle puncturing your skin. The question was, how high was your pain threshold?

When you walk into the shop, a bell chimes. It’s in pristine condition, as one would expect from a tattoo parlor. You’re greeted by a girl dressed in a black latex v-neck top. A sunray heart tattoo sits right on her chest.

“Hi, I have an appointment with Kai.”

She clicks through her computer and beams a warm smile. “For ___?” You nod. “Is Jungkook coming too?” she asks.

“Oh no. I don’t think so.” Was he planning on getting something, too? You didn’t think he’d show after everything went down.

“Kai is finishing up with a client, and he’ll come get you when he’s ready.”

You flash a small smile, taking a seat in their lounge. You’re picking at your nail beds and bouncing your leg. You’re trying to focus on anything other than what will happen soon.

A light noise of whirring fills the room. You close your eyes, concentrating on your breathing. It’s a small tattoo. There’s nothing to be afraid of, you think.

A part of you wishes Jungkook was here to hold your hand like he said he would. It's dumb even to want him to be here. But after spending so much time with him this past week, you admit you miss him.

"I’m ready for you,” Kai says.

You take a deep breath and follow him to his workspace.

“Nervous?” he asks.

“Yeah, it’s my first tattoo.”

“You’ll do great. I know it,” Kai smiles, sitting at his desk. He grabs his iPad. “Okay, what are we getting today?” Kai asks.

“Um, I turned 30 yesterday, so I wanted to get the birth flower for September,” you say, showing him the inspiration photos.

“Ah, Happy Birthday,” Kai grins. “Birth flowers are a great choice. Any idea where you want it and the size?”

"On the back of my neck, I don't want anything too big. Two to three inches."

"Oh–a woman who knows what she wants. There was no hesitation," Kai teases. "Cool–so, I'll sketch out a few options, and then we'll go from there. Sound good?"

You press your lips together and nod. As Kai's working on your sketch, you stroll around his workspace, looking at the illustrations hung up. There's traditional and fine line art, and you recognize a drawing of a snake—it looks like the one Jungkook has on his arm.

“See anything else you like?”

“I, um, recognize some of your work. You’ve tattooed my friend, Jungkook,” you note, turning back to look through more of Kai’s sketches.

Somehow, your nerves have finally calmed down. The whirring noise from the tattoo gun is like white noise to you, drowning everything out. You’re lost in the intricate detailing of the drawings. Tattooing is true art, you think. But instead of a traditional canvas or paper, it’s forever inked on someone’s skin.

“Okay, let me know what you think of these.” Kai shows you the iPad with a few flowers drawn out.

“You’re so quick,” you comment as you review your options. “Let’s go with this one.” You love how delicate and dainty the tattoo looks.

“If you need a break at any time, just let me know,” Kai gives a warm smile. “I apologize for the weird positioning, but I’ll need you to lay on your stomach, and your head will hang off the table.”

Your lips thin when you catch his gaze. You remove your zip-up hoodie and place it on a chair with your bag. Kai prints the design on transfer paper, putting the placement on the back of your neck. He hands you a mirror, ensuring it’s in the correct spot.

“Alright, let’s do this,” he says.

Once you’re on the table, the once-soothing noise of the tattoo gun flips a switch, and sweat builds up in the palms of your hands. The blood rushes to your head as your head is hanging off the table. You can see Kai’s feet as he steps on the foot pedal, ensuring his equipment works correctly.

You take a deep breath, trying to exhale fear and anxiety, but nothing works. The tattoo gun sounds closer, and the needle inches away from you. Your fists clench up, and you close your eyes, hoping it’ll be over quickly.

You can feel the latex glove on your back as Kai’s ready to outline the design. You can do this, you think.

With eyes still closed, fists clenched—you’re ready.

The shop's bell chimes again, but you’re too focused on this needle about to prick your skin. You can feel another presence. Their warmth is radiating on you. You figure it’s just the girl from the front, so you don’t bother to open your eyes.

Your fist unclenches, and not because of your own doing. It’s whoever is beside you. Opening your eyes, you see a pair of black motorcycle denim tucked into leather stomper boots.

“Hey—my man,” Kai stops and acknowledges. “Good to see you, Jungkook.”

“Hey,” Jungkook replies. “Sorry, I’m late.”

“Nah, you’re right on time. We just started. I’m sure ___ appreciates you being here,” Kai notes, returning to tattooing you.

You didn’t want to admit it, but having Jungkook’s presence was comforting. A part of you wanted to be stubborn and pull your arm away, but considering that a needle was piercing your skin—it wasn’t a good idea.

Jungkook laces his hand with yours; his thumb lightly grazes over your skin. He leans forward, whispering, “Hi.”

You’re unsure if the shiver running through your spine is because of the needle or Jungkook.

While lying on this tattoo table, you’re at war with yourself. An angel on one shoulder tells you to stay strong and not give in because he’s holding your hand. The devil, on the other hand, is telling you you’re a simp and can’t resist when a man is fawning over you.

You hate that the devil is right, and you’re even considering Namjoon’s words, ‘You gotta give the guy some credit. He went out of his way to make sure you’d stay single so he could finally have his chance with you. That sounds like dedication to me.’

Was it dedication or delusion?

You won’t lie. You’ve done questionable things when it came to love, too, so you couldn’t blame Jungkook. Maybe you should hear him out and see what he says for himself.

You’re silent, letting Kai do his thing. He and Jungkook chit-chat about life and future tattoos. The buzzing mechanical hum from the tattoo gun is constant and annoying—you’re growing numb to it like you’re growing numb to the pain.

But Jungkook’s touch? It makes you tingle. You’re keenly aware of how his thumb strokes against your knuckle—the constant squeezes, reassuring your anxiety when the pain shoots down your spine.

Through the years, that’s what Jungkook’s always been—he soothes your pain.

Maybe he’s responsible for your current pain - the shattered relationships and this tattoo you’re getting, but he always has a back-up plan: himself. He’s the shoulder to cry on, the hand to hold—the constant, consistent one who shows up repeatedly.

He’s confusing but calming, and you’re annoyed at how much you don’t mind his touch. Your breathing slows, and your shoulders relax as you sink into the cushioned table.

“Almost done,” Kai notes.

That was fast. Fifteen minutes–tops.

Kai finishes cleaning the tattoo, and after you stand up from your awkward position, you’re face to face with Jungkook. Once again, Jungkook resorted back to his favorite color: black. He’s in an oversized long-sleeve shirt and jeans, and there’s a silver chain adorning his neck.

His doe eyes twinkle and the corners of his mouth curve up. “The tattoo looks good on you,” he says softly. “Do you wanna see?”

Even with a mirror, the placement makes it hard to see the finished product. You grab your phone, open the camera app, and hand it over to Jungkook. You turn around, facing the mirror, holding up your hair. You catch Jungkook’s gaze and look away. His hand gently touches the nape of your neck, removing a stray hair. He snaps a few photos, handing your phone back.

“It looks beautiful on you.”

You mumble a word of thanks, grabbing your things, attempting to flee from his presence.

Pulling out your wallet to pay for your tattoo, you head to the front, but the girl stops you.

“Jungkook already paid,” she says.

The nape of your neck warms up, and your nostrils flare. You nod at the girl. Bumping into Jungkook on the way out, you stuff your wallet back into your bag, and Jungkook follows you, catching up.

“Why did you do that?” you ask, glaring at Jungkook.

"Because it's your birthday present. I couldn't let you pay for it."

You narrow your eyes, giving him the once over. “Why? So you can tell the next guy I date how we have matching tattoos and scare him off?” you retort, brushing past him.

Jungkook cards his hand through his hair. “Come on, that’s not fair,” he shouts, running after you again.

He calls out to you, making you stop in your tracks. Turning around, you breathe a heavy sigh. “You’re right. It's not fair,” you give him a wry smile. “But doesn’t it sound like something you’d say? Mr. Liar Liar Pants on Fire.”

The third time must be the charm because he’s chasing after you again.

“Hey, can we talk, please?” he implores as his eyes scan your face.

You zig-zag around him.

He repeats by running and standing in front of you. “You can’t avoid me forever.”

“Watch me,” you retort, attempting to flee again.

Jungkook holds his hand up. “Just hear me out, and if you never want to talk to me again after that, then so be it."

You huff. “Only if you drop me off at home,” you say, crossing your arms. You don’t feel like taking the subway; it’s the least he could do.

With hands in your lap, you’re waiting for Jungkook to say something, but he’s as quiet as a mouse. He’s missed two exits and been driving in circles, going past your apartment complex for the fourth time. You wouldn’t be surprised if a police car starts following you, considering how suspicious the two of you look.

You can’t take it anymore—the endless dancing around this conversation. “I thought you wanted to talk?” you ask as your eyes flick in his direction for a moment.

He straightens his posture, gripping the steering wheel and focusing on the road. "I'm, uh, I’m sorry for telling all those lies. It was stupid of me. I should’ve been honest with you from the beginning.”

You bury your face in your hands before turning to him. “If you liked me, why didn’t you tell me?”

You had come up with many scenarios in your head and thought back to your conversations and interactions with him. Jungkook had so many chances to say something, but he never did.

Jungkook shrugs and looks at you briefly before returning to the road.

“It’s easy being your friend, but to be your boyfriend? That scares me.”

You get it. Opening your heart, being vulnerable, and giving your everything to one person is terrifying. Sometimes, it feels like days, months, and years are wasted with one person when it doesn’t work out.

“Scared you’d screw it up?” you ask, turning to him.

Jungkook hums as he pulls up to your apartment complex.

With a sigh, you admit, “You were on your way to being a pretty good boyfriend.”

You hate that you found him so sweet and cute, even after everything that’s happened.

“I was?” he questions with widened eyes and turns off the ignition. He shifts to face you.

“Yeah,” you chuckle. Your hand lingers on the door handle. “Walk me up?”

The two of you are on opposite sides of the elevator. Jungkook’s leaning on the metal bar behind himself with his legs crossed in front of him.

He hangs his head before looking up at you. "What if I had been truthful from the beginning? Do you think we would’ve been together?”

You press your lips together and shake your head. “I don’t know, Kook. I guess we’ll never know.”

When the elevator arrives at your floor, it chimes, and you exit, and Jungkook follows. You stop outside your door, watching as Jungkook leans his shoulder against the wall, facing you.

You can tell when something is brewing in Jungkook’s mind. You’ve been friends long enough for you to notice some tendencies.

With an eyebrow lifted and his tongue poking through the inside of his cheek, he’s ready to lay something on you. He licks his lips, eyes flick to yours.

“Tell me you don’t feel the same way,” he says.

You can feel your stomach somersaulting when he doesn’t break eye contact. Your heart rate rises as you work harder to pump more blood than usual.

There were small, fleeting moments where you could picture yourself with him: weekend mornings with breakfast in bed and late-night cuddles on the couch.

“I’m trying my hardest not to feel something,” you confess. As much as he was scared to screw it up, so were you. You’ve never dated a friend. You’ve met all your ex-boyfriends through mutual friends. You’ve built fantasies of what a perfect boyfriend and relationship should look like, and Jungkook wasn't perfect–but neither were you.

Jungkook moves closer. “So you like me too?” His eyes dart from your parted lips to your eyes.

“I don’t not like you,” you say softly, stepping forward as you play with his silver chain.

"So where does this leave us?" He’s searching your face for an answer.

As always, your heart is at war with your head. The sensible thing to do is to stay friends. The foolish thing is to see how this could pan out. What if you could get your happily ever after?

"What would you do if I was yours?" you ask.

"If you were mine?"

You hum.

"If you were mine, I'd spend every waking minute with you. Asking anything and everything that comes to mind. I want to know what makes you happy and sad. I want to know what you love and hate. I want to know everything your heart desires." Jungkook eliminates the distance. "I'd pepper you with kisses all day–on your neck, cheeks, forehead, lips–everywhere,” he says softly as his eyes never leave yours. "If you were mine, I'd never lie to you again. I'd love you with every breath and never let you go." He’s eye to eye with you, hands cupping your face. “I wanted you from the moment I saw you. I was an idiot for not saying anything sooner. But if this is the only time I could be with you, I'll take it."

You gulp. Jungkook’s saying all the right things, everything a girl could want. You hate it. You hate that you’re a sucker for heartfelt moments and love confessions. Neverending cartwheels occupy your stomach. The little gymnast in there is going for the gold–doing back flips and leaps; there’s no way to stop them. Your heart beats faster for him than for anyone else–even more than Namjoon.

All it took was a silly agreement and a few lies to make you realize you didn’t want a perfect boyfriend or relationship. Forget getting married by a certain age. Forget the expectations of you instilled by society. This boy was a bit messy, a bit ruined, but a beautiful disaster.

Whatever it looked like, you wanted him.

You take another second to look at him because what you want to say next will change your friendship.

“Kiss me,” you say softly, your gaze dropping to his lips.

“Are you sure you want me to kiss you?”

You nod.

If there’s one more thing to add to Jungkook’s list of fears—it’s ruining your friendship.

“I won’t be able to stop if I do,” he whispers.

Restless is how you would describe Jungkook. Restless when it came to telling your exes lies. Restless in his ability to sit still. Restless as he chews on his bottom lip–it could be how he incessantly licks his lips or just lacks hydration. You’ve never noticed before how badly he needs chapstick.

But Jungkook’s within touching distance of your lips, and all you can think about is how much he needs chapstick. Your sweet peach one, you think.

Maybe you should offer him some.

“Then don’t.”

It’s slow and gentle when he kisses you. He’s taking his time. There’s no urgency. No tongue, no hands beneath your shirt, or roaming your body. Nothing like that.

It’s like he’s been waiting so long to do this. It’s like he’s forgotten any other mouth existed but yours. You’ll forget your name or where you are when you finally break away from his lips.

He consumes every thought you have, and this is what you were afraid of–that you’ll become addicted to his kisses. You’re unsure how long you can stand before he has to carry you to bed.

His breath is warm and sweet. You love him breathing life into you and taking it away over and over. Your hands curl into his shirt, tugging him as close as possible. Tilting your head, you open your mouth to catch more air before kissing him again. Lips upon lips are discovering each other.

Jungkook pulls away, his nose nudging yours. He kisses the corner of your mouth and your cheek. He’s on his tippy toes, kissing your eyelids, then your forehead.

“Okay–don’t stop,” you say, breathless, reaching for another kiss. “It’s for scientific reasons.”

He chuckles. “Are you researching how long someone can go without breathing?”

“Mmhm.” You reach again, but he pulls back, making you pout.

“You didn’t answer my question from earlier, ‘Where does this leave us?’ he asks.

You realize he won’t kiss you until you answer him. You cock your head to the side. “I like you, but it will take a minute for me to trust you again.”

Jungkook nods. “Mm, I get that. So…?”

“So–we should take this slow and see where it goes.”

He sucks in his lips, trying to suppress a smile. “What about Namjoon?”

The two of you hear someone clearing their throat, and you look in their direction as they appear from the hallway. It’s Namjoon, giving you a quick wave.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt,” he says as he walks to his door. “I saw you guys when I turned the corner, but then I ducked back into the hallway, waiting for you to…finish.” Namjoon presses his lips together into a smile.

You turn to Jungkook. “I’ll be one second.”

With a sprint in your step, you head toward Namjoon. “I’m so sorry you saw that.”

Namjoon laughs. “Why are you sorry? I knew I didn’t have a chance against Jungkook. I was waiting for you to realize you wanted to be with him.”

Your eyes widened. “You knew?”

His eyebrows raise, and he nods. “Mmhm.” He leans forward. “We had fun, but look at the guy.” Namjoon glances at Jungkook. “I would’ve felt like the back-up until you two got your shit together. You don’t have to worry about me. Go–he’s waiting for you.”

“Thanks Namjoon.” A sense of relief rushes over you, and you’re thankful he understands.

Returning to Jungkook, you’re no longer looking at your back-up plan. He’s the one you want to wake up next to, the one you want to laugh with, smile with–he’s become your first choice.

He extends his hand for yours. “So, should I get my tux pressed?”

You deadpan.

“We’re practically engaged now, right?” he jokes before leaning in for a kiss.

You press your finger into his taut chest, pushing him away. “Be fucking for real, Jungkook. We’re going inside and watching my favorite rom-com–While You Were Sleeping, so you can see the consequences of how lying gets you in trouble.”

“Oh, I love that one! It's the one where she pretends to be engaged to the guy in a coma, but she falls for the brother?”

You slowly turn to him, mouth agape. “You really have seen a lot of rom-coms, haven’t you?”

“I may have learned a thing or two from them.”

“Yeah–lying!” You scold him as you enter the apartment. The two of you continue bickering back and forth.

Who knew you’d be living in a romantic film of your own?

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jungkook #jeon jungkook

3K notes · View notes

softspiderling · 3 months

Text

illicit affairs - part six | r.c

summary:

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to talk to you.”

The tone in Rafe’s voice made you pause and you felt your stomach drop. This was it. Rafe found out about your feelings for him and he was about to tell you how he didn’t feel the same.

“Rafe-”

“Can you let me say what I want to say first?”

OR; Your parents are gone for the weekend and you have the house to yourself. Mostly.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: none, I think

word count: 3k

author's note: wait.... this is kinda crazy, but don't hate me for this please. Also i'm genuinely so tired rn, falling asleep as i type this... happy reading!!! <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pt. six: "you'll be flushed when you return"

You were sitting at the bottom of the stairs at your house, watching your parents pack the last of their things into their bags. They were headed to Charleston over the weekend, running the last errands before the Spring Fling the following week.

“Do you have your wallet and phone?” your mother asked your father as she closed the flap of her purse, checking her reflection in the mirror.

“Yes dear.”

Your father tossed his laptop into his bag, zipping it up before straightening his back, glancing over to you.

“Are you sure you don’t want Kelly to come over the weekend? It’s still not too late to call her in.”

“I’m good, dad,” you assured him. “Kelly should take the weekend off, it’s such a waste to have her for the whole weekend just incase I want a home cooked meal. I’ll probably just go out to eat.”

“Okay then,” your father said with a nod. “We’ll probably be back Sunday night, behave yourself.”

“Bye honey!” your mother called over her shoulder, exiting the house. Your father was hot on her heels, but just before he closed the door, he paused, turning back to you.

“And don’t you dare throw a party while we’re gone,” your father said, wagging a finger for good measure because apparently you were a child in the 80s being scolded by your parents. You resisted an eye roll, because they still had enough time to make you to come along on the trip, so you only nodded, like a good daughter.

“I won’t dad, don’t worry,” you sighed, leaning your chin on your hand. “I’m just going to hang out with my friends.”

Your father gave a curt nod, bidding you goodbye before he left, shutting the front door behind him. Shortly after you could hear the engine from their car start, before the sound of the engine slowly quietened down as it left the estate.

“Finally,” you sighed to yourself, padding back upstairs feeling like your stress had just left with your parents. It was a sunny day out and you wanted to use that time to get some tanning done. As you fished a bikini out of your drawer, you had half a mind to text your friends to come over, hang out by the pool. But that meant facing Rafe.

Ever since the nightly swim during the boneyard party, the ache in your chest that you felt whenever Rafe was around had started to feel more present, as opposed to dull. But you had promised yourself (and Rafe) that this wouldn’t get between your friendship. Tugging the bikini top over your chest, you stared at your reflection in the mirror, unhappy with yourself.

“Fuck it,” you muttered to yourself. Grabbing your sunglasses, some sunblock and your phone, you headed back downstairs, sending a text into your groupchat.

precious [04/05/24: 2:37 pm]: i’m out by the pool if anyone’s down to join

precious [04/05/24: 2:37 pm]: bring food tho

Sliding the door closed behind you as you stepped out to the patio, you headed for your designated sun chair, dropping your stuff on the small side table. You planted your ass on the chair, slathered the sun block on your body, because you very much did not want to look like the hamburgers Topper tried to grill and as you spread the sun block on your arms, your phone buzzed.

top [04/05/24: 2:40 pm]: stuck at the court house with my mom rn, i’ll text when i’m otw

kelce [04/05/24: 2:41 pm]: i’ll be over later

No reply from Rafe, though.

With an eyeroll, you turned your phone, screen side down and made yourself comfortable on the chair, feeling your skin warm up from the sunrays. You heard your phone buzz again, but you were too lazy to reach for it, shutting your eyes, a comfortable silence settling over your patio. Before you knew it, you dozed off, limbs growing tired in the sun.

“Hey precious…. You really invite people over to hang out just to be asleep when I get here?”

….

“Precious.”

You let out a small noise, squeezing your eye shut, a frown on your forehead. The voice quietened, and you nearly slipped back into your slumber, when you felt fingertips dancing on your exposed stomach. The touch was featherlight, but it broke through your unconsciousness, your eyes fluttering open.

Rafe was perched on the edge of the sun chair, his palm resting on your hip. His mouth was curled in a smirk and you were already annoyed with him.

“I was having such a good nap,” you huffed, rolling your shoulders a little, before you arched your back, waking yourself up a little.

“You’re not being a very good host,” Rafe replied, all the while his eyes not leaving your chest, which admittedly, was your goal.

“You haven’t been a guest at my house since you were 14.”

Leaning on your elbows, you sat up to look at him, unimpressed.

“Where are the others?”

“Told them not to come,” Rafe said, his thumb tracing circles into your skin, but you only narrowed your eyes at him.

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to talk to you.”

The tone in Rafe’s voice made you pause and you felt your stomach drop. This was it. Rafe found out about your feelings for him and he was about to tell you how he didn’t feel the same.

“Rafe-”

“Can you let me say what I want to say first?”

You exhaled deeply, sighing, and buried yourself deeper in the sun chair. Rafe watched you intently for a second, removing his hand off your waist to run it through his hair.

“When I suggested we do this casual sex thing, I was mostly doing it out of comfort. I hated hooking up with those random girls who were always so insanely clingy after, and you were right there: my best friend, who’s also kinda crazy hot and understands me without having to say a single word.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you turned away to hide the flush on your cheeks, but Rafe stopped you, turning your chin to face him again.

“Will you look at me while I’m talking to you?”

You lifted your eyes to meet his, and nearly died at his undivided attention on you. After making sure, that you weren’t going to turn away again, Rafe dropped his hand, carefully reaching for yours.

“The past few days I have been struggling, feeling restless, and I couldn’t tell why, until I realized….” Rafe paused, taking a deep breath. “I love you, precious.”

Your eyes widened at the confession, your mouth agape. “I…. What?”

“I know this sounds insane and I really really hope you feel the same way, because otherwise this is gonna get real awkward,” Rafe chuckled dryly, and you shook your head quickly.

“Rafe,” you started. “You know I’m in love with you, right?”

“You are?”

“Yes!”

Rafe beamed at you, pulling you in closely, and the weight on your shoulders disappeared when your lips touched his. Even though you have kissed so many times, this kiss felt… Different. He pulled away, hand gently caressing your cheek and you sighed softly, thinking of how to break this to Kelce and Topper.

“What are you thinking about?” Rafe asked, raising a brow at you. “Precious?”

Your eyes narrowed at the sudden increase of volume,, his voice his voice seeming so much louder than before. You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

“Precious, hello?”

With a gasp, you startled awake, your heart racing when you saw Rafe standing over your sun chair, his brows furrowed over his sun glasses.

“What?” you breathed out, swallowing thickly, trying to calm yourself down.

“Shit, are you okay?”

Rafe pushed his sun glasses up, his forehead creased in concern and you nodded, taking a deep breath.

It was just a dream.

“Yeah, sorry, you just startled me,” you assured him, grasping at your chest. You could barely look at Rafe, the dream was still replaying in your head, it seemed so real. Rubbing your face with your hand, you swung your legs off the sun chair, peering up at Rafe, hand coming up to shield your eyes from the sun.

“When did you get here?”

“Not that long ago,” Rafe replied, eyeing you suspiciously. “You sure you alright?”

You rolled your eyes at him, shoving his bicep. “Yes, dad.”

Rafe smirked, and you knew exactly what he was going to say next.

“I think you meant-”

“I know what I meant, you perv.”

Your hand reached out to whack him, but his reflexes were faster, his fingers slipping around your wrist to stop you. With a quick tug, he pulled you towards him, sending you crashing against his chest. You glared up at him, but your cheeks were flushed. If he asked, you’d blame it on the sun.

“Why aren’t we hanging out at your pool more often?”

Rafe played with the small strings of your bikini bottoms on your waist, a smirk ever present on his lips.

“Because you always get bored hanging around doing nothing,” you reminded him. He clicked his tongue, his eyes zeroing in on the valley between your breasts.

“I wouldn’t be bored if you wore this bikini every time, fuck.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “God, have you always been this horny or is it just since we started fucking?”

Before Rafe could answer, a crash sounded from inside the house followed by some cursing. Your head turned towards the sound before you looked back to him.

“Top and Kelce are here already?”

“Yeah, we came together,” Rafe said, as if it was obvious, but you only let out a sigh, pushing away from him to head into the house. As you got into the kitchen, you saw Topper and Kelce tinkering around in the kitchen.

“Hey boys.”

“Precious, hey,” Kelce greeted you, shoving a bag of ice on the counter to give you a half hug.

“What are we making?”

“I was thinking frozen daiquiris,” Topper said, heaving the mixer on the counter with a grin, before smacking a kiss on your cheek. “Hey. We were starting to think Rafe got lost out there.”

“Oh no. He was too distracted by my boobs.”

Topper paused to glance over to you, his eyes quickly flying over your chest, before giving a brief nod.

“Understandable.”

“Yeah, I don’t even like boobs and yours look good in that bikini,” Kelce chimed in. Rafe only gave you a look that said I told you so as he rounded the kitchen island.

“And you’re calling me a perv,” Rafe miffed, emptying the bag of mangoes. Together, the four of you managed to make a big batch of frozen mango daiquiris, tossed together the salad the boys got from Whole Foods and prepped the steak for grilling in-between bickering.

Sipping on your drink, you carried out the salads out to the patio, while Topper got the grill going, with Rafe breathing down his neck, because he paid good money for the steaks and he wasn’t about to let Topper grill it to death. Kelce was setting the table when you put the salad bowl down, a beer bottle in his hand as he laid out the cutlery. You eyed him carefully, thinking back to his text.

“Hey, what were you doing before you came over?”

Kelce’s hand stilled over the fork, and he decidedly didn’t lift his head, staring at the napkins. “I was at the golf course.”

He was being cagey, and his answer didn’t really satisfy you, especially because you knew how he Kelce hated golf. Whenever Top and Rafe went golfing, you and Kelce either went for ice cream or to the beach or hung out in a golf caddy, making fun of Top and Rafe. Kelce would never willingly go on on the green.

“…. What were you doing at the golf course?”

Kelce hesitated before he answered, taking a deliberately took another long sip of his beer, and you narrowed your eyes at him before he finally gave in.

“Malcolm asked me if I wanted to play a few rounds of golf with him.”

Your mouth dropped open, half in shock, half in excitement. “Wait, really?”

Kelce nodded, his mouth curling up in a small grin.

“Yeah, Just the two of us.”

“Kels, that’s great,” you told him, pausing as you thought his words over. “Wait. Was this just you hanging out, or was it a date?”

“… He didn’t say date.”

You sighed and Kelce shook his head, frowning.

“Don’t look at me like that. You know this shit isn’t easy, for neither of us.”

“I know Kels,” you said, voice soft. “But I just don’t want you to get hurt again if Malcolm is scared of things getting real and throws himself at another girl.”

Kelce shrugged with his shoulders, like he didn’t really care, but you rounded the table to lean your head on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes and you were content to just stand there with him, watching as Rafe and Topper fought over the grill.

“What about you?” Kelce suddenly asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I haven’t heard anything about boys from you recently.”

Your eyes lingered on Rafe as he snatched the tongs out of Topper’s hand, and you bit back a smile. “Oh. No one’s caught my eye recently,” you lied and Kelce, sighed.

“You’re lucky, crushing on someone is so stressful. It is not what it used to be.”

If only he knew.

“Alright, steaks will be done in a few minutes!” Rafe called over from the grill and you nudged Kelce.

“Come on, let’s get the rest of the table settled.”

The four of you spent a rather chill day out at your pool. After a great steak dinner, with the steaks grilled to perfection (”I told you that it was the perfect time to take them off the grill Top, sometimes you just gotta listen to your gut.”) you got buzzed off of the frozen daiquiris and even went into the pool a few times. Before you knew it, the night broke in and it got too chilly, so you started clearing everything away, carrying the dirty dishes into the kitchen.

“Man, staying out in the sun all day really knocked me the fuck out,” Kelce said, yawning into his shoulder as he put the rest of the salad into the fridge.

“Yeah, we’re getting old,” Rafe agreed with him, and Topper side eyed him,

“Who’s we? You’re two years older than us.”

Rafe smacked Topper’s head upside down and you snickered to yourself as you dried off the mixer. Rafe moved to open the dishwasher, but you waved him off.

“Leave it, I can do it in the morning.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow at you. “You sure, precious?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“A’ight.”

Rafe yawned into his fist and the boys started to collect their things. You were taken aback, having expected Rafe to find an excuse to stay back, maybe even stay the night. You did have the whole house to yourself, and it seemed like he didn’t even care.

Tossing the dish towel on the counter, you walked the boys to the door, leaning against the door frame as you hugged them good bye.

“Alright, guys. See you tomorrow. Thanks for dinner.”

The boys waved, one by one getting into the car, and you crossed your arms as you stared at Rafe through the tinted window of Topper’s car as you stood on your front porch. As Topper’s car pulled off your grounds, you headed back inside with a sigh, shutting the door behind you.

You were tempted to go to sleep right away, but the amount of dishes in the kitchen was taunting you. In all honesty, you’d have appreciated a little help from the boys, you only turned down their offers because you thought that was what Rafe wanted you to say. On one hand, you really didn’t feel like cleaning up, on the other hand, you didn’t want Kelly to feel obligated to clean your shit up when she came back on Monday. So cleaning up it was. You put the dried off mixer away, and started rinsing the plates and cutlery. You cleared the last of the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, yawning into your elbow. Kelce was right, the sun shining down on you really had made you super tired. You yearned for your bed and for some rest, and sleep was near as you put in the last plate into the dishwasher. Just as you were about to shut the dishwasher and start the program, the hairs on the nape of your neck rose when you heard the sliding door to the patio open in the otherwise quiet house.

Fuck.

Didn’t you lock the door?

Your heart was in your throat, and you grabbed the nearest weapon you could find - a rolling pin - as you snuck into the hallway. There was no way that someone broke into your house, right? It was just your imagination?

You half expected to see nothing as you rounded the corner, the noise just being a figment of your tired self, but you froze when you heard steps come towards you so when you stepped out from behind the wall, you swung the rolling pin as quick as possible, hoping to knock the intruder out before he could do any harm.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: wait omg my first actual cliffhanger in this series

#rafe cameron x reader #illicit affairs #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fiction #outer banks #obx #obxedit #drew starkey

397 notes · View notes

sxfterhearts · 4 months

Text

soft bf ! jiung headcannon

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ soft bf!jiung x insecure!reader ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

♡ genre/warnings: fluff (slightly suggestive at the end), reader is insecure about being too clingy or a burden to her bf </3 jiung being a green flag

♡ word count: (sry its long) 2,163 words, all dotpoints, lowercase and no punctuation intended (also weirdly formatted bc of tumblr character limits sry guys T_T)

oK so just hear me out here - producer/composer/singer-songwriter extraordinaire choi jiung.

he started out as just a behind-the-scenes guy but awhile back he did a cover of a song he wrote for a popular idol group and blew up on the socials

so now he’s garnered a humble but sizeable following on instagram - just a group of dedicated followers who love his music and tune in to his sporadic insta lives

his fans love it because not only do they get a chance to see the face behind kpop's greatest hits, but jiung also usually does his lives from his studio where he's producing or practicing

which usually involves a bit of teasing and spoilers of upcoming music - fans love guessing which group will get to sing which unreleased song

anyways, it's a typical friday night for jiung. his work week was somewhat disrupted by an impromptu business trip down to busan to meet with his co-producers and potential international collaborators

he got back last night, but had been busy getting back into the swing of things today - just following up on emails, checking in with his team and making sure things in his everyday life are running in order

don't get him wrong - he's utterly grateful for the opportunity to work with such big names in the industry, but work trips and travel always zap the energy out of him

coupled with that the fact that he didn't manage to squeeze in time for the usual sunday date night with you before he left - jiung was feeling drained and in need of some serious T.L.C. (aka tender loving cuddles)

speaking of - he's nearly reaching the end of a short insta live, when his audio and video freezes; spazzing out as jiung's bright red phone vibrates, signaling a call from you

he's hasty, and slightly blushing as he rushes his greetings, making up some totally believable excuse about getting back to someone about fixing up lyrics for a song, before bidding everyone a good night

with a fluttering heart, jiung ends the live and calls you back within the minute

"y/n!!!" he nearly squeals into the phone receiver, eagerness clearly apparent in his tone

you're slightly taken aback at this, yet pleasantly surprised. you utter obligatory greetings and ask about his day; what he was doing

the moment he mentions that he was just on a live however, you stop dead in your tracks

you were about a ten minute walk from his studio, as you were planning to drop by to surprise him, but upon learning this new fact, you started to doubt yourself

"y/n? you still there? i can't hear you" jiung says after a pause that was around 10 seconds too long

"jiung.. you.. you... i interrupted your live, didnt i? ah... i'm so sorry, i didn't mean to.. it's just, i don't get notifications, and i had no idea, i didn't mean to disturb you, ji... i-"

"woah wOah woAH where is this coming from" he stops your rambling, quickly sensing that there was something deeper below your stuttering words. "why are you apologising, love? i was about to finish anyways, it was only a short one. you weren't disturbing me, i was planning on calling you afterwards, actually..."

"really? are you sure? cos... i mean, i dont want to impose or anything, or interrupt your job or get in the way like.. you know what maybe i should let you get back to it, you must be busy with work if you were just on live right? i'll talk to you tom-"

"y/n, y/n, wait!" jiung said, sensing the urgency. he had to catch you before you suddenly hung up or something. "wait, no, don't go." he uttered, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden. don't hang up, don't go away, don't leave me, i want to talk to you. that's what he meant.

"you sure? 100%?"

"yes, silly girl. now come over to the studio, we'll watch your favourite and i'll get us chicken."

"...."

"y/n..."

"... fine, be there in 5"

"5?! wait, no way... were you already on the way here?"

"goodbye, jiung" you said without giving him an answer

a couple of soft knocks pulled jiung out of his train of thought. tearing his eyes away from the computer screen, he walked towards the door and opened it..

..boy was he GLAD to see you - what a sight for jiung's sore eyes!! your disheveled messy bun (boys go crazy for a messy bun, trust), matching grey hoodie and sweatpants, and big glasses, plus the headphones hanging around your neck - gosh, jiung could've sworn he's seen you like this like a bajillion times and yet the sight of you in your most natural state always hit him like a ton of bricks

hes so in love with you dies (its been nearly a whole year of dating)

"jiung, i-" before you could finish your greetings or sentence, jiung drags you into the studio, closes/locks the door and throws his arms around you while burying his face in your neck, taking a deep, deep inhale of your scent

"this is heaven" he exhaled, soooo satisfied. this is definitely what home feels like, he thought

you giggled, feeling ticklish as the ends of his hair brushed against your sensitive neck "i missed you too, dummy"

"no way, i missed you the MOST. you dont understand" reluctantly he pulls away to stare you dead straight in the eyes with a serious expression "everything in busan reminded me of you. i swear its cos we took that trip in spring last year. like the seafood, and the beach, and the bridge - all i could think about was the lazy afternoons we spent together there, chilling by the water..." CRYING hes so sweet

you smiled, heart melting at his words. yet, it faltered when your gaze drifted towards his monitor setup and the phone on the desk - "about earlier, i-"

"yeah, i'd like to talk about that with you, if thats ok"

?!?!?! you were about to freak out "uh.. y-yeah.."

"NO omg no nothing bad its nothing bad y/n? y/n, breathe, its nothing bad-" he quickly added, sensing that you were on the verge of panic, again

"are you mad at me?"

"noooooooo omg y/n, thats so far from the truth. listen-" he paused to grab your face in his palms, squishing your cheeks in the process "if i were mad would i still do this?" and then he LEANS IN AND KISSES you like a man starved. (which he was btw, for like, the 5 days he didnt see you ahem)

pulling away "baby, im not mad. plus i dont think i could ever be mad at you, but i just wanted to ask you about your reaction, is that okay? do you think you can talk about it? its also completely fine if you dont want to - we can do it another time"

your brain was still bit hazy from the kiss but you just nodded blankly at his question (nodded is a stretch - more like moved your head slightly cos he was still cradling your face in his large hands)

"ok baby. now tell me," his hands shifted to your hips as he guided you towards the blue two seater sofa in the corner of his studio, pulling you onto his lap as he sat down. "why would i be mad at you? how were you interrupting me? im not accusing you of anything or trying to pick a fight, im simply trying to understand your perspective"

"well its just..." you looked down, lips in a slight pout, fingers coming to play with his as you thought about how to phrase things. jiung respectfully waited in silence as you organised your thoughts. yet, when you gnawed on your lips and adjusted your glasses, he couldnt resist the urge to give you a quick peck

"sorry - youre just too cute" he said with a cheeky grin, pulling a shy one out of you as well "go on, im listening"

"you know how i told you about that guy i was with before i met you..."

jiung could sense where this was going and could feel his blood run cold at the mention of your ex "yes... why what about him"

"well........ heusedtosaythatiwastlikeooclingyforhimandialwaysfeltlikeiwasaburdentohimratherthanhisgirlfriend"

jiung sat there, shocked and out of words for a few moments before he asked in disbelief, "he said you were too clingy and were a burden?"

"yeah well, kind of said words to that effect, yes. and was like not happy when i got in the way of his work or hanging out with his friends, but i swear it wasnt even like that bad - its just he forgot to wish me on my birthday that one time because he was having a night out with his friends and when i asked him why he told me that i was a burden and getting in the way of him having fun with his friends……..”

“he what.” jiung couldnt help it, he could feel his blood boiling and steam threatening to burst out of his ears. how could anyone, let alone someone who was meant to be your boyfriend, treat you like that?

“i…” you werent sure how to respond - especially when you took one peek at jiung’s face and was met with his cold hard expression. thinking that your response might have upset him made your eyes well up in tears, “i’m sorry… maybe i shouldn’t have brought it up” you said, bottom lips beginning to wobble

jiung sprung into action yet again, moving his long arms around your upper body and hugging you tightly to his chest. his palms came to rest on top of your head as he felt your body quiver the way it usually did before you started crying (something he wished he never had to experience - because you deserve only the best - yet at the same time he was glad he could be there for you during your lowest) “shh, sweet girl. im not mad at you, and you dont need to say sorry for anything at all. if anything im furious at the guy for treating you in such a way - missing his girlfriend’s birthday?” he scoffed in disbelief “he doesnt deserve you at all”

you looked at him with your big, wet eyes, and jiung felt his heart stutter. you were just too cute for this world. “really?”

“yes, baby. sometimes i think i dont even deserve you myself - you are so kind, so smart, and capable of doing such great things. you… youre so good at taking care of me when im busy or tired, you always help others when you can, you think about other people and put them first. you have such a beautiful mind, and soul, and body.” he blushed whilst saying this. “and you are definitely not too much or too cling or a burden to me in any way - in fact, i like that you take interest in my work, and i like that you ask about my songs or listen to my demos. i value your opinions, and i think you give great suggestions. in fact, take this as an open invitation to “bother” me whenever you like. i like that you think about me and call me, and i like that you want to see me and ask about my day. i like that you’re my burden.”

you were a blushing mess at the end of his monologue, cheeks wet with tears - happy ones, this time. “jiung, that’s…” you paused to wipe your tears, but he beat you to it by swiping a warm thumb across your cheeks whilst gazing at you as though you hung up the stars and the moon and the entire galaxy. (to him, you did, at least.) “that’s so sweet…”

“i mean it, i truly do.” he nodded, bringing you in for a gentle kiss, lips meeting in their familiar dance as he tried to convey his sincere feelings through it. his hands travelled down your body to rest at your hips as the makeout session escalated - what was once loving and sweet started to get more heated as he licked your bottom lip for access, which you granted with a pleased sigh. jiungs hands wandered under your shirt and you squealed at the skin-to-skin contact.

“we should…” jiung pulled away, reluctant and breathless. “we should stop. food. have you eaten?”

you shook your head in response, but formed your lips into a pout. “want more kisses.” you whispered, snuggling your face into the space where his neck meets his shoulders, planting a few open mouthed kisses on the skin there and leaving goosebumps in its wake. “missed you so much, ji…”

“but its late… we should eat dinner…” jiung, the ever responsible adult, tried to remind you but to no avail. his already weak resolve was broken when you decided to nip at the sensitive skin right under his ear. a strangled moan left his lips as you lapped over your latest artwork: a bright red hickey.

“have me instead.” you whispered right into his ears

and who was he to say no to that?

160 notes · View notes

if-whats-new · 25 days

Text

What's New In IF? Issue 20 (2024)

By Marjorie, Axelle, Noi. Brij, Dion and Bex

Now Available!

Itch.io. - Keep Reading below

If you read the zine, consider liking the post: it helps us see how many people sees it! And sharing is caring! <3

~ EDITORIAL ~

(Re-)Growing Team!

A couple of courageous souls contacted us, looking to make a difference in the IF community by helping us with the zine!

So, we would like to introduce our new members of the team and officially welcome:

Bex, Brij, and Dion!

If you too would like to help us out in a more official capacity, we still have some slots available in our roster. So shoot us a message!

This week, we had a very special guest on Small Talk... Author of many IF games, XYZZY winner, ClubFloyd founder and IFComp organizer... Jacqueline A. Lott!

We got to learn about her trajectory in the IF Community since her debut in 2002, from author to event organizer, to community leader!

Check out our interview with Jacqueline A. Lott on Small Talk...

We hope you enjoy this extra long issue!

MARJORIE, AXELLE, NOI, BRIJ, DION, BEX

~ BE PART OF THE ZINE ~

WHAT'S NEW IN IF? HAS EXPANDED!

Since the release of issue #14, we've enacted some changes with the zine. It is now expanded with interviews of creators from all around the IF world, as well as direct contributions from you, our readers!

THIS ZINE ONLY HAPPENS WITH YOU!

Want to write 1-2 pages about a neat topic, or deep-dive into a game and review it in details? Share personal experiences or get all academic?

WRITE FOR THE COLUMN!

Prefer to be more low-key but still have something to share? Send us a Zine Letter or share a game title for Highlight on…!

WE WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU!

Excited as we are about next week's interview and have questions for our guest? Or want to see a certain author answer questions next? Message us!

SMALL TALK... IS WAITING!

Came across something interesting? Know a release or an update announced? Saw an event happening? Whether it's a game, an article, a podcast… Add any IF-related content to our mini-database!

EVERY LITTLE BIT COUNTS!

~ EVENT SPOTLIGHT : IFCOMP ~

The Superbowl of Interactive Fiction

The Interactive Fiction Competition (or IFComp) is one of the major yearly IF events, since 1995. It may be even the longest still-recurring yearly game making event!

Started by Kevin Wilson in the IF Usenet Forum rec.arts.int-fiction, submitted games were limited to 2h playtime before being judged and ranked by players.

Throughout the years, the IFComp evolved, seeing a couple dozens of parser entries to a wide and diverse range of IF forms. Still, after ballooning during Covid, with recurring 70+ entries, the event continues to be a key avenue for IF creation

As the submission period ended just this week, the IFComp is now moving to its Voting Period, which will last for 1-1/2 month (until October 15). Starting this Sunday, judges will be able to play and rate entries (minimum of 5 to count).

At the end of the event, if participants rank high enough, they are eligible for prizes and part of the Colossal Fund pie! @ifcomp They are still looking for donations!

Looking for great games to play? Want your voice make a difference? Go create an account and vote!

~ ENDED ~

Nothing of note this week.

~ ONGOING (VOTING) ~

Only a couple of days to submit your feedback to the single entry of this year's IntroComp. You just need to “vote” to send it!

~ ONGOING (SUBMITTING) ~

Today is the last day to submit a campfire-inspired visual novel around a thrilling tale. Tales to Thrill awaits!

There is also about as much time to create a parser, in French(ish), for the Confiture de Parser!

And for the SuNoFes Jam, you will have about three days left to submit a narrative games!

Do you have WIPs on indefinite hiatus? Projects you've started forced to be set aside? Bring Out Your Ghost is a jam to show off your ghosts (and maybe even spruce them up and finish them)! @neointeractives

On the CoG Forum, Halloween is already there! Until Oct 31st, submit to the Halloween Jam - it has funky themes!

Running until Halloween, the Phantasia Jam is a three months game jam to create a fantasy narrative game, with the theme of “Hidden Magic”. It accepts both VN and IF.

Do you understand or write Ukrainian? Until the end of the year, the Ukrainian IF Festival is happening on itch.io!

~ OTHER ~

The end of the Review-a-thon on the IntFiction Forum, whose initiative is to get more reviews for games, is almost there. But you can still participate!Check out this post by Tabitha! This is also a sponsored event, aiming to raise funds for one of the Forum members.

The Interactive Fiction Showcase is still running! If you have completed an IF piece this year, consider submitting it! It is happening only on itch!

~ SMALL TALK… ~

WITH JACQUELINE A. LOTT (website)

~ Joining us this week is IF author, ClubFloyd founder and IFComp organizer: Jacqueline A. Lott ~ Author of “The Fire Tower” and many, many more!

Due to Tumblr's link limit, this transcription does not include any links. Download the zine on itch for the complete list.

⟶ Hi Jacqueline! Welcome to Small Talk..!

Thank you for having me!

⟶ Can you tell us a bit about yourself and how you got into Interactive Fiction?

I grew up in a family that loved to play games of all sorts, and I was a kid during the original era of Choose Your Own Adventure and Infocom. Zork was on our C-64 at home, and also on the IBM PCs in the computer lab at my elementary school. I wanted to make my own games, but I didn't know any programmers and there weren't as many resources for kids like me to learn to code back then; I tried to teach myself with books and by typing code out of magazines, but without any adults who could help it became pretty demoralizing, and I drifted away from the idea of making my own games for ten or fifteen years. In 2002, I stumbled across rec.arts.int-fiction, which at the time was where most of the interactive fiction conversation was happening, and joined the ifMUD. Inform 6 was the hot language at that time, and it came with wonderful documentation. I used that to make my first game, which was an entry in the first IntroComp.

⟶ The Waterhouse Women was this first game. How did you come up with the premise? and why submit it to IntroComp?

I was staying with family for several weeks during that period, helping to take care of my papaw, who was very ill, and I had quite a bit of downtime while he was sleeping. In the bathroom of the house were these eclectic accent tiles, each with a scene on them, that looked like illustrations from a children's book of fairytales. There was a lighthouse, a frog on a rock surrounded by cat tails, a double-masted sailing ship, and a striped koi fish with bubbles. I got to wondering if these scenes were meant to be connected in some sort of narrative, or what else I would see if I were to somehow step into each of these illustrations. The concept of moving in and out of images intrigued me, but I wanted a richer tapestry to work with, so I decided instead to use John William Waterhouse paintings.

I entered The Waterhouse Women into IntroComp because it seemed the perfect way for a new author to share an idea and get a lot of feedback before committing fully to an idea that people might not find interesting (or actively dislike!). I still think IntroComp is wonderful for that and I wish more new authors took advantage of it. Ultimately, I got great feedback, figured out what I was doing well, where I needed to focus more, and that the game needed a lot more plot. I have the plot mostly figured out now (with lots of research, correspondence with the art community, seeing many of Waterhouse's paintings in person, and even visiting his grave). One of these days I hope to revisit this story and share it with others.

⟶ The Fire Tower is your highest rated solo project, and one that you recommend yourself on your website. Can you tell us a bit more about this one?

The Fire Tower was written for a curated competition called the IF Art Show, in the Landscape category (other categories included Still Life, Portrait, and Event). The landscape I chose was my favorite hike in Great Smoky Mountains National Park, and the work is grounded very firmly in that actual, real-world landscape. The rules of the IF Art Show let me do what I love to do most in IF, which is to exhaustively craft and implement a natural environment. I didn't realize it at the time, but Aaron Reed wrote a lovely essay about The Fire Tower as part of his Fifty Years of Text Games and pointed out that the game was basically an IF walking simulator, before walking simulators were really even a thing. I absolutely love walking sims, so him writing that really made me smile.

⟶ The Fire Tower led you to receive one of the coveted XYZZY prizes, for Best Setting. How do you feel about this achievement?

I was surprised and delighted and touched. And I was surprised and delighted and touched again when Aaron Reed included it in his recent book. I'm glad that that game, which is about a place I hold so dear, impacted other people in ways I'd hoped for, and in other ways that I hadn't anticipated.

⟶ About a 1/3rd of your publication was created with other authors. How was the experience working in a group compared to your solo work?

Well, I'm an only child and an introvert, so writing, composing, sculpting, drawing, photography… any sort of solo creation work is the sort of thing I generally love to do to unwind and recharge. That said, I'm fond of the games I wrote with my husband because it's fun and memorable to create things with someone you love. For example, we wrote Within a Wreath of Dewdrops while staying with his parents, who live in rural England, and a lot of that game was conceived during conversations we had while walking across the fields and through the woods. For Disenchantment Bay, even though that was more or less a solo project, where I built on an example that lots of people are familiar with from the Inform 7 documentation (specifically from The Inform Recipe Book), it felt a bit like a collaboration because Emily Short based that Inform example on an experience she had when she was visiting me in Alaska, the boat captain is an actual friend of mine, the setting is another real-world place that I know intimately and love dearly... so I showed Emily the place, she wrote an example, and then (with her permission) I used that example to make a game. I smile just thinking about that. And the four interactive fiction exquisite corpse projects I've contributed to are possibly more fun for the authors than they are for non-authors who play the games later, because being a part of those kinds of projects is a bit of a game in and of itself.

⟶ Is there a game that you made you are particularly fond of? and why?

Well, we've talked about a few of them, but one we haven't touched on yet is I Hear the Wind Blow. It's a one-turn game, meaning that you get one turn, the game ends, you start over, and you use what you learned in previous playthroughs to figure out what move you'll take this time. One reviewer said that it was the first one-turn game they'd played which actually had an emotional impact on them, and that they hadn't thought a one-turn game could do that. I'm pleased I was able to pull that off with such a simple story.

⟶ You were also part of the making of Cragne Manor, a cadavre-exquis-like project which hasn't been replicated since. How did it come to be and what was your involvement in the project?

Well, Cragne Manor was a project conceived by Jenni Polodna and Ryan Veeder to commemorate the 20th anniversary of Michael Gentry's Anchorhead. I'm very fond of Anchorhead... my husband and I played it during a road trip across the United States on our honeymoon (I drove, he read the text aloud and entered commands on a PalmPilot!). I think both Jenni and Ryan are amazing, hilarious, technically proficient, and ever-so-slightly unhinged (in the best sort of way). So, when I read what they wanted to do, and I realized the scope they were willing to take on, and the fact that they really did want as many people as possible to contribute (ultimately they stitched together work from 84 different people), I decided to pitch in. It was just too unique and special a thing to pass up. It was great how it was a bit exquisite corpse but also Jenni and Ryan had thought of special assignments to give many of the participants in order to ensure some degree of cohesiveness and a playable end result. It was amazing, honestly.

⟶ With so many rooms in the game, how can we recognize the Jacqueline room of the manor?

Ah! Well, all of the rooms include the name of their author, and my room was “The Dim Recesses of the Forest”.

⟶ Have you yourself played the game? Any room you found interesting to solve?

Yes. I played Cragne Manor from start to finish with ClubFloyd, the interactive fiction group that gets together on Sundays to play games together. We played it a couple of hours or so at a time, so it took us 19 sessions that spanned six months. It's the longest transcript we've ever produced. I loved so much about it, so many of the rooms, so much of the writing, so many of the moments… I'd be hard pressed to pick just one thing.

⟶ If not just one room, what do you still remember clearly about Cragne Manor? something that touched you maybe?

Well, I adored the half-full styrofoam cup of cold and unpleasant coffee in the game. Which sounds terrible out of context, but there we are.

⟶ Is there a game you regret having made or don't look kindly on in retrospect?

I have a Thanksgiving-related speed-IF that I coded in under an hour called You Are a Turkey! that ... well, I don't regret it, per se, but it's just very silly. It takes less than five minutes to play, and contains a joke that is only funny if you were watching the news in the USA in 2012.

⟶ Aside from your two last publications, your games were made through competitions or jams. Were independent releases not as prevalent during the 00s-10s as it is now?

Honestly, now that you ask this, I'm not sure I've ever just released a game independently without some driving event (a contest, jam, group project, or because I wanted an example to share for a presentation). This is also likely part of why almost everything I've released is fairly short. I suppose that I've looked to events to provide me with a deadline and a writing prompt, or I've done a jam because I found the constraints particularly interesting. I think that's just more about me, and not about any overall trend, though I do think a lot of folks out there only produce for competitions because they think it's a way to get more eyes on their work. I've always just written for myself, or my friends, and have never been about trying to win something big. That's why I have never really considered entering the IFComp or SpringThing. The fact that I received a Xyzzy for The Fire Tower was just serendipity. When the time comes (possibly in retirement!) when I do produce the one or two large stories in my head, I don't think I'll release them as part of anything. If they're any good, word will get out, and people will play them.

⟶ For the next decade, you released a bunch of games, almost all of them made with Inform. What made Inform your program of predilection when creating IF? Do you see yourself trying other systems in the future?

I feel like I've somehow done quite a few games, yet also simultaneously not done very much at all. I've made eleven games on my own (all of them rather short), co-written two with my husband, written that game that builds on an example from the Inform Recipe Book, and contributed to four exquisite corpse games that have tons of authors (most notably the epic Cragne Manor, as we discussed).

I started coding with Inform 6, and was an early adopter of Inform 7... I think that's just because the documentation for those languages was/is so well done, accessible, and fun to read. I've explored a couple of other languages as well. I released In Memory in ADRIFT, as part of the Indigo New Language Speed-IF, where the requirement was that you had to write a game in a language you'd never touched before, and I have one short game, Cloud Dreaming, that I wrote in both Inform and Twine, as examples for a talk called If You Can Write, You Can Make Games. I recently dusted off Inform to explore a couple of percolating ideas, and found that my memory of how it works is still pretty solid, so I suspect I'll stick with Inform rather than picking up something new.

⟶ You've praised the Inform documentation for being so extensive, but are there things you wished you knew about the program before starting?

I think it's less about what I would have liked to have known about Inform specifically, and more about ways of achieving efficiency and organizing my ideas. In terms of efficiency, I know my code is not as streamlined as it could be, and that sometimes I go about things in a way that's harder than it needs to be. That leads me to wonder if I could have done more (and better) work if I hadn't spent so much time fumbling around. And not having worked very much in the games industry, I don't have a grasp of all the tools that are out there, best practices, etc, so that's another place where I've sunk a lot of time trying to figure things out for myself, which leaves less energy for writing stuff that people actually see.

⟶ Based on your own experiences of making games, if you could give any tips to future IF creators, what would it be?

Hm... I think this advice is general enough so as to be applicable to anyone thinking about writing IF, regardless of platform/genre/style:

- Don't use your favorite idea for your first piece of IF; you likely won't do it justice until you've had some practice, so save the favorite idea until at least your third or fourth project.

- If you're going to make something for a competition or a jam or some other event that comes with a deadline, start earlier than you think you need to, and build in time for at least two or three rounds of beta testing (i.e. people test it, you correct the bugs, more people test it, you correct the new bugs that crept in when you were fixing the previous bugs, etc).

- If you're making your game for a competition and it's not quite ready by the deadline, there is nothing wrong with withdrawing from that competition and entering your work somewhere else or waiting until the following year.

- If you're not sure what kind of story or game to write, just write the story or game that you yourself would want to experience.

⟶ Was there ever a project you found particularly challenging to create?

Only the projects that I have not yet released, and in all four cases, it's just challenging due to my bandwidth / energy / available time. Two of the four are somewhat grand in scope. I'm envious of people I know who are also incredibly busy but who somehow manage to continue turning out epic creative work… but I also try to place a lot of focus on self care and proper rest for myself.

⟶ Any chance we could get just a hint of your current works-in-progress?

I'm always hesitant to talk about WIPs, because there is this case of imposter syndrome within me that hears people saying, “She's never released anything substantial, so it's all just talk!”. Setting that dismissive internal voice aside for a moment, I have four ideas that have been living rent free in my head for a while, and that I do poke at often enough to keep them from going entirely stale. One is inspired by a favorite book from my childhood, one is inspired by a favorite film, one is a non-sci-fi sci-fi set on a distant planet, and one is a fantasy filled with beauty and unhealthy love and dark magic.

⟶ Aside from creating games, you are also a pretty prolific reviewer, releasing even a rating method advised to be used by judges at the IFComp. How did you come up with this metric?

Hm. I wouldn't say I wrote it for other judges, or that I'd necessarily recommend it for anyone else. I wrote it mostly for myself, and perhaps for authors who were curious what my ratings mean because they often seemed to differ from ratings other people gave on the same game. I like having this descriptive scale for consistency, so that I know what a 7 I gave 10 years ago meant. Oddly enough, I've found the descriptions for each number useful enough that I've adapted the scale for ranking other things, like, um, comparing the various skills of job candidates.

⟶ How did you get to writing reviews? Any advice for players looking to start reviewing?

Just start writing reviews. Try to write them from the perspective of what you'd accept as valid critique if it were your own work and you were on the receiving end of the review. You don't have to be glowing where it's not warranted, you should be honest, but you don't need to be cruel, either.

Some of my earlier reviews were also written to be somewhat humorous, and I blurred the line into cruelty from time to time; I regret that, and think I've matured since then. I've opted not to update old reviews; what's online is online. But I've shifted to an approach that I hope is still honest, perhaps still a bit harsh when that's warranted, but mostly I try to write reviews that are helpful to the author.

I think it's important to focus on the game, its writing, its implementation, its content, and never on the author. Never make it personal. If you can't avoid that, then you probably shouldn't review that particular game. Consider, where possible, offering ideas for how the work could be improved, particularly if you're hoping to see future work from that author. Help them learn how players experienced their work. The best part is, writing reviews leads you to think about what makes a good game, and in turn improves your own work.

⟶ Is there a review of yours that you are particularly fond of?

Not particularly. There are games I'm particularly fond of, which leads me to go back sometimes and reread my reviews, because that evokes some of the memory and emotion that I had during my experience with that piece of IF, but not from a fondness of the reviews themselves. Also, if there is a particularly memorable turn of text in a game that I think I'll want to remember later, I'll often quote it in a review so that I can find that text again easily.

⟶ Following the release of your first game, you took over the IntroComp for its second edition, which you would run for 14 editions. How did you become the organizer of IntroComp? What was your experience with the event?

IntroComp had been so helpful to me, and there was nothing else out there quite like it, so when Neil deMause indicated that it had been a one-off event, I asked him if I could pick it up and make it an annual thing. Some years it gets a healthy crop of entries, sometimes only a few, and while I did start offering cash to people who finished their games within a year, the real prize of that competition has always been thoughtful, honest, and generally empathetic feedback that helps new authors grow.

In 2018, when I was asked to become the new IFComp organizer, I approached Xalavier Nelson and asked him to become the new steward, which he graciously did for five more years. I was so pleased that, when Xalavier's career really took off and he finally needed to step away, he came back to me and we worked together to make sure IntroComp kept going. Eric Brown has the helm now, he's got support from the Interactive Fiction Technology Foundation, and I'm a member of his advisory committee. We got a normal number of intents to enter this year, but ultimately most of the authors didn't complete their intros, so for the first time ever there's only one entry -- but people should still go to IntroComp.org and play Good Bones and 'vote' (which provides an opportunity to share anonymous feedback with the authors) before Sept 3rd! It's an intro, so it's not a huge time commitment, and I know the authors would really appreciate it.

⟶ As an advisor on the IFTF board, what does this position entail?

It principally entails attending a few meetings a year where the IFTF board brings us together to share general updates and discuss topics that may impact multiple committees, such as IFComp.

⟶ You moved from organizing the IntroComp to handling the IFComp. Aside from the amount of entries per edition, are there differences between the two events?

Yeah, there are ... a *lot* of differences. IntroComp was a thing I thought about perhaps three months a year, at best. It was a light lift. I mostly did it solo, though I had invaluable help from Dan Shiovitz who wrote the website's backend to automate aspects of collecting feedback, reviewing votes, and determining the results.

IFComp, by contrast, is more of an eight(+) month per year endeavor. There are multiple teams of volunteers (and occasionally paid help) to coordinate. There's a team for the maintenance and continuous development of the website and its custom software. There are a couple of folks who collect, track, and help distribute prizes. There's a curation team that reviews entries as they're uploaded to ensure consistency with competition rules so that we can hopefully prevent any disqualifications. There's a social media team that is way more online than I like to be. We work with folks over at the IntFiction forum, who facilitate a private space for authors. Each year there's a different artist who is commissioned to create the competition logo. This year there are some folks offering to help me improve the awards ceremony. And I have an advisory committee, which includes multiple past IFComp organizers, who help me think through tons of things far better than I could do alone.

⟶ During your tenure as the IFComp organizer, have you seen any changes with the event? How has it evolved?

Well, participation has varied annually over IFComp's full thirty-year lifespan. On my watch, we notably had a year with over 100 games [2020], but that had less to do with me as organizer and more to do with a global pandemic. I can't speak for what the atmosphere was like prior to my watch, but one of the reasons that I've stuck with organizing IFComp for as long as I have now, despite having other irons in the fire, and the fact that organizing the Comp keeps me from creating more work of my own, is that the majority of folks who take our annual post-competition survey remark on what a great experience they've had, and that's really important to me. I enjoy being a part of making that happen. I obviously do not (and cannot) please everyone, but that's just how things are anytime you're doing something that impacts this many people.

I brought one thing with me from IntroComp: allowing judges to leave anonymous feedback when casting their vote, feedback that is only shared privately with the author (after we review it to ensure it meets our Code of Conduct). I guess the other major changes that have happened during my tenure are the introduction of a new logo each year, the addition of an awards ceremony live stream, allowing authors to judge in the competition (but only on games they didn't write or beta test), and shifting the competition up one month to let EctoComp have full control of the spooky season. Mark Musante and the Dev Team have also made a ton of great improvements to the website based on feedback from the annual post-comp survey.

⟶ Stephen Grande was the longest organizer for the IFComp. You’re about halfway through. Do you think you’ll break his record?

Oh wow. What a question! Stephen did this for fifteen years, and he's still helping as a member of the advisory committee, for which I'm very grateful. I'm not sure how much gas there is left in my tank, and my day job is pretty demanding, and I've definitely hit the point where if I bowed out I could do so knowing that I'd had a decent run and made the Comp a little bit better for having been involved with it... but I also do still really enjoy doing it, it was a hard thing to learn to do, but now that I've got the boat up on plane it's not that hard to steer. So I guess the answer is that I'm not out to intentionally break any records, but I ran IntroComp for 14 years and have been (sporadically) organizing ClubFloyd for 17 years as of this coming month... so, who knows?

⟶ So many positive changes brought during your tenure! Have there been ideas for change that were discarded or processes that didn't quite work out?

Thanks for saying that, you’re very kind. As to the question, I don't think we've made any changes during my tenure that we've ended up rolling back. There've been a small number of experimental changes that I thought we might end up rolling back, but then based on input from the post-comp survey decided to let stand, such as allowing authors to also be judges. I really do benefit by being the fifth organizer, inheriting a thing that has been running for decades, where a lot of the kinks have already been worked out, and where I personally know all of the prior organizers and can reach out to them to discuss anything.

⟶ Any advice for aspiring gamedev event organizers?

I recommend volunteering to help with an existing event for a year or two, learn from that, and then spin things off using what you've learned if you still see an unfilled niche that needs an event. It's also fine to reach out to other event organizers and ask for advice... for a while I was on a private group chat with a few other IF event leads, and we should probably resurrect that, as it was pretty helpful to everyone involved.

⟶ Is there something you'd like to see happen or implement in the future for IFComp?

I would like to see more mainstream coverage, at least in gaming media; we've done press releases in the past but have been mostly unsuccessful in getting those picked up for news stories; I think we may take another run at that next year, because our parent non-profit, the Interactive Fiction Technology Foundation, is working to rebuild its communications team. There are folks every year in the post-comp survey who lament that we don't get featured more in the press, or that we don't have folks like Wil Wheaton do a cameo at our awards ceremony, or that we don't have more judges than we do, and I agree with a lot of that (well, all of it, really -- Wil (@wilwheaton), if you're reading this and want to do a cameo, please reach out!).

⟶ Is there anything the community would like to see happen for IFComp that you don't support?

I think there are a fair number of people who look to the IFComp to help make interactive fiction itself more 'mainstream' or more profitable, but I don't see that as our role. A lot of past IFComp participants have gone on to have amazing careers in gaming or academia or publishing... so in that sense, we are having an impact on the industry, but mostly IFComp is about providing a venue for people to share good, well-tested works of interactive fiction and to put a spotlight on the very best of the best among parser and choice (and other IF that may not neatly fit either of those categories). We've got some folks who feel we shouldn't rank all of the games, that no one should come in last (or at least know that they came in last), but there are other venues for that. It’s not a jam, it’s a contest, and we are asking people to bring their best game to the competition.

We've also had repeated requests to reduce the number of entries through entrance fees, or having curated pre-judging, or having multiple rounds of judging with brackets, or splitting the comp by genre or platform, or hosting multiple iterations of the IFComp per year... and for a variety of reasons related to equity or workload, we're not considering those changes. Some folks have consequently created different competitions that do do those things, and that is absolutely of benefit to the community as a whole. It's great for there to be more ways for authors to get their games seen.

⟶ In the past couple of years, the IF event calendar has sort of exploded - you can't spend a month without one happening. Have there been recent competitions or game jams that you thought seemed fun?

It really has exploded, which is pretty great. I'm grateful that there are so many people out there organizing different things to give authors lots of options, and some of the jam constraints are novel and interesting. I'm exploring the Single Choice Jam games right now, for example. It's interesting how people approached the idea of games with only one choice. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I'm starting to see how, if there's only one choice in a game, you build up to it and make it count.

⟶ You don't just run competitions, you are also the founder of ClubFloyd, a weekly IF-play session. Can you tell us a bit more about it?

Sure. ClubFloyd is a group that meets mostly weekly on the ifMUD. I mentioned the ifMUD earlier; it's an old yet fancy chat room principally frequented by people who are interested in interactive fiction that's been around since 1997. In 2007, a group of us there decided to start playing games together using the MUD's resident bot, whose name is Floyd, inspired by the robot in the Infocom game Planetfall by Steve Meretzky (hence the group's name, ClubFloyd). I post the transcripts of the games we've played on my website. I unfortunately update the site pretty sporadically, in file dumps that happen every six to twelve-ish months. I'm a little over a year behind right now, but there are over 800 transcripts that have been posted, so there's plenty to look at until the next big update.

⟶ Dang! 800+ games played! That’s impressive.

Yeah. There are 811 game transcripts up on the site right now, despite me being a year behind on uploads. Some of the transcripts are of games we've played more than once, either with different players present, or because we just wanted to revisit something after a long time. I have not been present at every session, and I don't play IFComp games with the group until after voting closes (so that I can remain more neutral and unbiased as the competition organizer). But still, yes, it's a lot of games.

I'm grateful to ClubFloyd, because without it I wouldn't have experienced nearly so many works of IF. It has forced me (in a good way) to experience genres I usually don't do on my own, and the group can solve puzzles in a way that individuals sometimes cannot. Definitely in ways I don't usually have the patience for. Having a diverse group means you experience things in a way you wouldn't otherwise.

⟶ Can anyone join ClubFloyd or is it an invite-only type of group?

Yes, anyone can join us at ClubFloyd, and anyone can reach out to us for a playtest. Sometimes, though, we get into the middle of playing a long game (like when we were playing Cragne Manor for six months), and when that happens we're not available for playtesting.

⟶ How does a lambda session of ClubFloyd happen? How are games picked and running?

For years I was very organized and planned in advance and even invited authors to show up when we played their game! These days we only occasionally do that, and it's usually reserved for when we are beta testing someone's work, which we do for folks from time to time. These days we usually just all show up at the appointed time, chat a bit about what's happening, what's new, what jams have happened, or look at the list of things we haven't yet played, and pick something together. It's far more informal.

⟶ Are there restrictions on what type of games played during ClubFloyd?

No, no real restrictions in terms of content, but the bot itself has constraints. It's text only, for example, so we miss out on games (or don't fully experience games) that contain graphics or sound or effects. If a game turns out to be particularly adult in some way, such as violence or sexual content or something along those lines, then we (try to remember to) flag the transcript but we still post it to the website. Some games, like ChoiceScript, require us asking for a special file that will make it work on Floyd. Other games, such as Twine, do not work. We've occasionally laboriously done Twine games using Copy/Paste, but it's pretty intensive. Worth it, though, for the right game.

⟶ Your own games were playtested by ClubFloyd. How does that experience compare to being a player?

Oh, I often find it maddening to watch people play my games in real time. But it's also interesting to watch how people approach your work, what they try, how they react, etc. I think that's why a lot of authors appreciate our transcripts - it's not just the game, you can also see the side conversation that's happening about the game as it's being played, which gives you more information about player motivation than you get from transcripts alone.

⟶ Is there a ClubFloyd session (or tested game) you remember the most?

Hm. There are a few. I think the games that make the most memorable ClubFloyd sessions are games that build tension over a long time, put the whole group on edge, and then suddenly release the tension or surprise the whole group at once and leave us a little (or very) stunned. Those are fun moments. The game Once upon a winter night, the ragman came singing under your window did that, despite being a SpeedIF.

⟶ You've participated in many editions of the Speed-IF, which ran also on ifMUD (none since 2016). How was your experience with them?

They're fun. Just writing a Speed IF is a sort of game (for the author, I mean). Speed IFs don't expect quality, they're meant to be done in a short period of time, and they give you interesting writing constraints. It's fun to see others work within those same parameters and what approach your friends took.

⟶ How did a Speed-IF event go? How did you know there was one happening? Was there really a 2-hour limit?

Well, back in the day there'd be a bulletin board post on the ifMUD and/or a post on rec.arts.int-fiction. The 2-hour limit was always a suggestion, never seriously enforced, though a couple of my games were made in less than two hours. And you can definitely tell that they were made in under 2 hours! But that was part of the fun.

⟶ If you were not currently organizing the IFComp, would there be an IF event you would want to be part of?

I've long wanted to make something for EctoComp, and have two ideas for that. Maybe one of these years. I've also always wanted to enter le Concours de Fiction Interactive Francophone (i.e. the annual French IF Comp).

⟶ Speaking of the French IF Comp, which you've also previously reviewed, is it as cut-throat as its original counterpart?

Hm. By that, do you mean is it as cutthroat as IFComp? Gosh, I don't know that I think of IFComp as cutthroat... Serious, yes. Competitive, yes. I guess for some, serious and competitive is how you might define cutthroat.

⟶ Yes, the IFComp seems like very scary and serious event -- kind of like authors wearing armor and battling for the prizes!

Ha. I think both competitions have a high degree of comradery among authors and judges. I mean, there are prizes. But the authors are pretty great to one another. There are wonderful private forums [on IntFiction and on Discord] where authors come together and share their jitters and hopes and talk about their experiences being part of the competitions. It's lovely, really. No armor, no swords.

The main differences I see between the two are that the French comp has an annual theme (though admittedly it's within their rules to completely ignore the theme), and there are aspects to their awards that, in the English speaking community, have generally been addressed by other events outside of IFComp, such as specific qualitative awards for literary excellence, technical achievement, etc… [similar to the Xyzzies].

⟶ A fun thing we found out during our research: you appear as an NPC in Yay Games by David Welbourn. How does it feel to see yourself in someone else's game?

Ha. I did not realize this (or had forgotten). I just went and played the game. It is indeed a little weird to see yourself as an NPC that you did not write. (I'm pretty much the PC in The Fire Tower, for what it's worth, but that's a very different thing.)

⟶ You gave a talk called If You Can Write, You Can Computer Make Games. Can you tell us a bit more about it?

Yes. I gave that talk a few times, back when I was living in Seattle and a part of various coding meetups and actively going to conventions. It was a talk targeted at general, non-IF audiences, to introduce them to the concept of text based games, and to show what the learning curve was like in a couple of different development environments (specifically Inform and Twine, though I mentioned other authoring systems like Ink, ChoiceScript, Undum, and Texture). I also provided some resources to get people started.

⟶ What Interactive Fiction games would you recommend to our readers?

Hm. I've played so much over the years. I like a lot of the games that lots of other people like, but let me recommend a lesser-known game that I loved experiencing that apparently is not universally loved but which I don't think has enough reviews. (How's that for a strong sell??) Anyway, if you're up for something a bit dark... wear headphones, turn off the lights, and play Ms. Lojka or: In Despair to Will to Be Oneself by Jordan Magnuson. Love that game.

⟶ Thank you, Jacqueline for sitting down with us!

Thank you for the fun interview! Before I go, I just want to put in a plug for this year's IFComp (@ifcomp). I hope anyone reading this who hasn't been a judge before swings by our site to play a few games. We really want more new judges -- and you only have to play 5 games between Sept 1 and Oct 15 to be part of the fun. If anyone has any questions, don't hesitate to reach out to us at [email protected] and ask!

Huge thanks to Jacqueline A. Lott for letting us take some of her time during the very hectic period that is the week before the opening of voting of the IFComp!

~ NEW RELEASE ~

Terminal City (Unity) is a text-based adventure inspired by the 80s games like Space Quest. In this retro setting, you play as a street kid trying to right some wrongs and rescue his friends.

Anastasis (Twine) is a short-ish game based on The Talos Principle, where you explore the history of civilization and decide on its future.

hiraeth and hwyl (Twine) is a fantasy fan-inspired text adventure set in the world of “Howl's Moving Castle”, in which you explore a mysterious house

As always, don't forget to check out the submitted entries to the events mentioned in the previous pages. They deserve some love too!

~ NEW RELEASE (WIP) ~

The Gladiator's Oath: Blood and Sacrifice (CScript) is a Rome-inspired project where you play as a gladiator.

Lament (Twine) is a horror project in which you explore a mysterious town in hopes for a cure from your tormenting nightmares. @lament-if

Bastard (Twine) is a fantasy project where you play as a bastard heir to a tense kingdom on the brink of war. @plotplay

For King and Country (CScript) is low-fantasy project inspired by many world (like LOTR), where you must work through the intrigue of the capital. @forkingandcountry-if

War of the Divines (CScript) is a modern-fantasy project with a hero reborn trope, where you must to everything in your power to save your world.

One Hærfest Day (Ren’Py) is a prequel to Myrk Mire (in re-writes) where you follow multiple characters over the span of one day. @catt-nuevenor

Final Sunset (CScript) is a slice-of-life project, following an aspiring e-Sport professional hoping to find success in Battle Royale/FPS games.

Ballad of the Cosplayer (Ren’Py) is a yaoi isekai project, where you enter a cosplay contest, only to get more than you hoped for in return.

~ UPDATES ~

Boyband Hell (Ren’Py) has now been released on Google Play.

FFS, Another Northern Duke?! (Ren’Py) released the complete version on Steam. @chthonicchromestudio

Grey Swan - Birds of a Rose (CScript) added extra content to the demo. @reinekes-fox

Vestiges of the Hallowing (Twine) updated the demo with a second chapter. @buttercupfiction

The In-Between (CScript) made the previous update available to all. @dalekowrites

Creation: Book 1 (CScript) added Chapter 6 to the demo. @creation-if

The Night Market (Twine) 's latest release is now available to all. @night-market-if

Starways Saga (CScript) added the Navy path to the demo.

Dance of the Night (CScript) added a second chapter to the demo.

The Cordillarian Revolution (CScript) added the Police path to the demo.

Shepherds of Haven (CScript) updated the Patreon demo with extra content. @shepherds-of-haven

Peninsula Campaign (CScript) updated the Patreon demo with extra content.

Defiled Hearts: The Barbarian (CScript) updated the Patreon demo with new scenes. @defiledheartsblog

Velocity: The Race Begins (CScript) added 2 new chapters to the demo.

Blood Legacies (CScript) added extra content to the demo. @bloodlegacies

The Thousand Of Us (CScript) completed a major re-write of the demo and routes. @ivanwm-05

Press Play (CScript) added the second part of Chapter 1 to the demo. @pressplay-if

It Takes Three To Tango (CScript) has been released to the public. @when-life-gives-you-lemons-if

Thicker Than (CScript) added extra content to the Patreon demo. @barbwritesstuff

Saturnine (CScript) updated with Chapter 20. @satur9-if

Dear Diary, We Created a Plot Hole (CScript) returned with a whole lot of new content. @ddwcaph-game

Aquarii (Twine) added chapter 3 to the demo. @aquarii-if

~ OTHER ~

The Humble Detectives Bundle includes a handful of IF games, including Inkle's Overboard!, with its profit going to the Direct Relief charity.

To celebrate its anniversary, Wayfarer (Twine) is doing a Giveaway where you can win an Alpha Build key if you submit fanwork. Check the rules! @idrellegames

Not Your Mother's Shire (CScript) is looking for beta-testers ahead of submission.

The Rosebush Magazine published the first article on a ZIL series: Studies of ZIL - History of Infocom and the Z-Machine. @the-rosebush-mag

Lost in Limbo (Ren'Py) has just launched its Kickstarter. @ravenstargames

Gold Machine published a new article for its series on Infocom's Trinity. @golmac

The IF program PunyInform has updated with major bug fixes (Log).

As always, we apologize in advance for missing any update or release from the past week. We are only volunteers using their limited free time to find as much as we can - but sometimes things pass through the cracks.

If you think something should have been included in this week's zine but did not appear, please shoot us a message! We'll do our best to add it next week! And if you know oncoming news, add it here!

~ MAYBE YOU NEXT? ~

We did not get a submission this week. But if you have an idea for a short essay, or would like a special space to share your thoughts about IF and the community...

Shoot us an email!

~ HIGHLIGHT ON ~

A couple of games that we thought were cool.

Leechcraft by Ainsley Sunday @addersmire (Ink - itch.io - IFDB)

This relatively horror short game is steeped in dark fantasy with medieval inspiration, mixing dark urges of vampirism and duty for care during a plague spread. Though it is not in its fully completed form, the current release creates a very intriguing build-up.

//recommended by Marjorie [Team]//

In the Flesh by Raziel Razmattaz (Narrat - itch.io)

Ranked first in the second NarratJam, In the Flesh asks you to investigate strange reports from an old house. Though pretty ordinary, the house arbors many dark secrets. Will you solve the mystery before it is too late?

//recommended by anonymous//

Spider and Web by Andrew Plotkin (Inform 6 - itch.io - IFDB)

One of the most revered parser game from the late 90s, winner of many xyzzy, and showcasing the best of IF. Though it might be more on the challenging side, it is still an interesting experience with pretty intricate implementation. Walkthrough

//recommended by Axelle [Team]//

Your favourite game here?

Do you have a favourite game that deserves some highlighting?

An old or recent game that wowed you so much you spam it to everyone?

Tell us about it! And it might appear here!

WE LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU ALL! WHETHER IT'S GOOD OR BAD, OR EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN...

HOW?!?! DO YOU?!?! MANAGE?!? TO GET?!?! ALL THESE SCOOPS?!?! WHAT ARE YOU?!?! THE IF SCRET WHISPERER?!? A new E. Jade Lomax (@ink-splotch) game?!? coming soon?!?! I AM SO FREAKING SOCKED!!! - raving anon

That last Column was really conflicting, because I get how demotivating it can be to get very negative messages about your writing, but on the other hand, do we really want to coddle people who purposefully and publicly put their work out there? - a reader

i hope it's ok! cause i'd like to use my shoutout for a non-author friend~ Jessica, you devilled egg, thank you so freaking much for introducing me to IF! - Patate

Have something to say? Send us a message titled: Zine Letter!

As we end this issue, we would like to thank:

Our new awesome team members (Bex, Brij, and Dion), @franzinyte-writes, Patate, raving anon, a reader, and a couple of very helpful anonymous users!

For sending news, interview questions, helpful tips, cool links, filled form, written Sheet line, even emails... all these help us so much to make this Zine possible!

And as always, huge thanks to all you readers who liked, shared, and commented on last week's issue! What might be tiny actions are huge support and motivators to us! Thank you for cheering us on this journey!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

We also hope you join us again next week, for we have a very special guest on the zine:

Surrealist Twine author, multimedia creator, Tumblr sensation: We'll be talking to Kit Riemer (@adz) next week!

Want to know more about their work? How they found IF? And everything in between?

Send us all your burning questions!

And see you again next week!

MARJORIE, AXELLE, NOI, BRIJ, DION, BEX

WHAT'S NEW IN IF? 2024-ISSUE 20

113 notes · View notes

httpiastri · 3 months

Text

PERFECTLY FINE – CHAPTER FOUR (MONACO)

genre: fluff, angst, etc.

warnings: heartbreak as usual

word count: 5.3k (like, exactly 5.3k. on the word. 😭)

author's note: it feels so wrong to say that im posting this to celebrate ollie's graduation to f1 because... this is such a sad chapter.... pain pain pain for everyone involved (especially ollie) 💔 but yay happy ollie f1 announcement day!!! hope you're all doing well & hope you enjoy <3 (also i wrote a lot of this chapter back in february? and proofreading it today nearly brought me to tears bcs of ollie-)

series masterlist

the career of a racing driver is a roller coaster for everyone involved.

if your name is max verstappen, then you've got more ups than most others. that roller coaster seems pretty fun.

but if your name is y/n harper, then your roller coaster isn't as fun these days. but if there’s ever a place to turn things around, it's monaco.

even just the track walk is enough to bring up your mood after a bad week like last. walking along the monegasque streets, almost getting hit by cars as you sign autographs and take pictures with fans... it's an experience you just can't find anywhere else.

coincidentally enough, ollie is done with the track walk just as you are, which means that the two of you can make your way back to the f2 paddock together. your boyfriend has always loved monaco – he pretty much doesn't ever shut up about the track and it's history unless you tape his mouth shut when you're in the country. that's why it's surprising that he not only brings up another subject, but also that he chooses a quite sensitive one – your father.

"he's going to be here this weekend, right?" ollie asks, stuffing his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. he seemingly doesn't quite understand just how tense things are with your dad yet. to be fair, it isn't really his fault, since you haven't told him and since he isn't a mind-reader. but still, something in your chest tightens at the way ollie brings him up so casually.

you nod. "you know how much he adores monaco," you say with a sigh, before putting on your best impression of your dad. "the most iconic track ever, the only track to ever... blah blah blah."

having your dad along for races was always a given when you were younger. he was your best helmet carrier, your number-one supporter, and the first person you went to when celebrating or complaining.

but somewhere along the years, having him around started to become more problematic and anxiety-inducing. his support turned into criticism, and it became far more common for him to tell you to "go apologize to the engineers and ask them what you should do to perform better tomorrow" rather than give you any constructive feedback of his own.

at first, it was rough; the man who had always been your pillar to lean on, your main source of support, your safe haven, was seemingly gone. you continued to perform well, though you weren't sure if that was because you wanted to make him proud or if you were terrified of making him disappointed.

"let's have dinner with him someday, then," ollie suggests as the two of you come to a stop right outside the prema garage for the weekend. "maybe sunday, if we have things to celebrate?"

"let's hope so."

pepe calls your name once, twice, thrice, before he resorts to shaking your shoulder gently. his touch, along with the sound of the spaniard's raspy laughter, makes you finally wake from your slumber. you blink up at him, eyes droopy and mind empty. "what?"

"why are you sleeping?" pepe asks, shaking his head. "quali starts in... about an hour."

you begin to slowly push yourself up from the couch you've been lying on, yawning loudly. "i was supposed to just rest my eyes," you start, rubbing your eyes with your hands. "i didn't mean to fall asleep..."

"did you not sleep well last night? were you up late again?" pepe asks as he sits down next to you, watching you stretch your arms over your head with yet another yawn.

what are you supposed to say? yes, i was up until four am because i couldn't find any peace of mind at all? i've been dreading every second of this weekend because i never know when my dad will appear from around the corner? i'm scared he's going to be so mad over my performances that he disowns me?

pepe may know a lot of what's going on with your father, but he doesn't need to know this much.

you did, in fact, meet him earlier today, right before practice – if greeting him briefly and then instantly bolting in the opposite direction counts as a "meeting" – but since then, he's been nowhere to be seen. not even around dino or ollie when you last saw the two of them.

pepe takes your silence as an answer in itself, and he lets out a hum. "well, i'm quite nervous myself," he says frankly, pulling a hand through his hair.

"you did so well here last year, though." you nudge his shoulder with yours. "you'll be great again, i'm sure of it."

"dinner with the prince on sunday? both of us?"

you nod, shooting your friend a smile. "of course." but despite how much you wish it would become a reality, there's not even the slightest trace of faith in you. the only thing you can think about is how likely it is for this round to go in the same footsteps as your recent ones.

a great attitude to bring into a race weekend.

p9.

a top ten placement, sure. second in the reverse grid, sure. but other than that, there's not much positive in it. it's a step in the right direction, but in some way, it feels like a step that's way too short.

the sprint race starts with an incident right by you on the track, which is extremely unlucky for you since you get pretty much blocked and have nowhere to go. after being passed by several cars, the safety car finally comes out, and you find yourself in p7.

of course your father's words echo in your head all the way through the safety car period. "starting p2 means a free podium," he had told you when he stopped by right before you were getting into your car. "don't mess it up."

you're so focused on that expression on his face, the way he tilted his chin up and his head slightly to the side as he spoke, and the way it felt like your heart stopped beating for a few seconds, that you don't even realize that your engineer has told you about the safety car being about to end. you don't even acknowledge the fact that the race leader has taken off, nor that the rest of the field starts pushing again before it's too late.

some blue car tries to overtake you on the outside, and with another car on your inside you have no chance of giving either of them space – and you manage to crash into them both. not only did you ruin your own race, but also two other drivers'.

and of course, one of the cars buried into the wall next to yours is a silver hitech with a big number 17 on it.

climbing out of your car, you can hear several voices calling out for all three of you from the grandstand nearby, and you consider throwing them a wave as you climb through the metal fence to get off the track. but then, you hear one voice that's more familiar – one that belongs to the last person you want to talk to right now. "are you alright?"

you almost don't look at him, but the little glance you shoot him is enough to take in every single bit of disappointment in his eyes. what are the odds that your dad was sitting in the grandstand right where you crashed?

a nod is enough of an answer you reckon, pulling your helmet off your head and beginning to walk the way towards the paddock again. "do you want me to carry that?" your dad asks, having gotten past the security guards after showing his pass, now jogging to catch up with you.

"i'm not ten anymore," you groan. "i can handle it on my own."

"i wasn't saying you can't-" he cuts himself off, placing a hand on your shoulder. "you looked really out of it out there."

you keep your gaze forwards so he won't see you rolling your eyes at his words, determined steps carrying you forward quickly as you shake his hand off. "oh, you could see through my visor? that's cool."

"what's gotten into you lately?" your dad pushes, and you flinch slightly at the harsh tone in his voice. "what's wrong with you?"

"what do you mean?"

"well, frankly, your driving had been shit recently." your eyes snap to him when he speaks, eyebrows furrowed. "it looks like you're not even trying."

you stay silent for a long while, trying to navigate your way back – and to a place where your dad hopefully won't be allowed – but you can't help but scoff. "thank's a lot."

"what? am i wrong?"

"yes, you're wrong!" you finally stop in your tracks, fully facing him by now. a hand goes up to your hair, pulling on it to relieve at least some tension. "i'm trying my best, i-"

"is there something going wrong with ollie?" your jaw drops. "i'll talk to him, i'll settle it with him."

"don't you dare!" you exclaim. "there's nothing wrong with ollie, okay?!"

"then what is wrong with you? why can't you score ten points in nine races?"

that's it – you're going to completely lose it if this goes on for even one more second. "leave me the fuck alone," you tell him, turning your head away so he won't get a chance to see the tears beginning to form in your eyes.

the worst part of it all? the fact that you agree with him. the fact that you can't even argue against it; nine points in five rounds is not a good result at all.

surprisingly enough, he doesn't follow you when you hurry away, allowing you to get to the paddock alone. the silence doesn't mean you can hold back from crying, however; it doesn't take long before your cheeks are stained with your tears, your breaths growing quicker and quicker for every step you take. navigating the paddock with blurry vision is hard, and you're basically just relying on muscle memory to take you back to the right part of the garage. just as you're rounding a corner, you bump into someone – someone whose white suit and broad, muscular shoulders are easy to recognize even through your tears.

the other last person you want to talk to right now.

"hey there," he says, a hand coming up to your shoulder to keep you steady as you stumble a little upon the impact with his chest. "are you- woah, are you crying?"

"leave me alone, paul."

he lets out a little chuckle, one he regrets in hindsight because it makes him sound like he thinks the state you're in is funny. "i can't just walk away when you're this upset, can i?" he asks, having to use all of his willpower to hold back from wiping away a few tears from your cheeks. "is it about the crash? i'm not mad at you, and i don't think victor is either-"

"i couldn't care less about the stupid crash!" you explode, a few sobs following your words. "i'm just- i can't-"

paul's eyes widen in surprise at your outburst, hand on your shoulder slipping further along so he's got his arm draped across your shoulders and it's easier for him to force you to walk with him. now it's your turn to have to hold back, wanting nothing more than to lean into his chest and just let out all of your tears. he pushes you with him into the hitech truck, looking around the lounge area to make sure no one's there before guiding you to sit on one of the sofas there. "what's going on? did something happen?"

"i'm a bad driver, that's what happened." paul slumps into the seat right next to you, eyebrows raised when he hears you speak. "i don't belong here, i don't know what i'm doing, i-"

"hey hey hey," he cuts you off with a shake of his head. "what have we said about this?"

you look down at the floor, wiping away a few tears from your cheek as you continue to sniffle in the silence that fills the area. a burning feeling spreads through your chest at his words, the familiarity of it all making your head spin. it isn't the first time you've been like this in front of him; through the almost entire year you dated, there were quite a few times when he'd have to console you after a breakdown. paul knows your issues like the back of his hand, he knows how hard it can be to convince you that you do belong. but he also knows to never give up.

"you are a great driver," he starts, hesitating for a moment before letting his hand rub your shoulder. the action makes your breath hitch in your throat, but not because it's wrong – it's because you've missed his touch, probably far more than you've admitted to yourself before now.

"even my lousy dad thinks i'm bad," you finally get out in-between sniffles, resting your face in your hands.

"and since when do you care about his opinion, huh?"

he's right. at least partially. but still, you remain hunched over, shaking your head. "i may act like it doesn't matter, but… him calling me all kinds of things…" paul allows you to gather your thoughts, his touch remaining gentle over your racing suit. "it hurt. a lot."

he hums understandingly, letting out a sigh. "when is that stupid little brain of yours going to understand that you're doing well?" his words should bring a smile to your lips – a few months ago, they would've. but now, you don't react at all. "no matter what he says, no matter what the critics say. you're a good driver."

after another few moments of silence, you drop your hands to your lap and look at him. there's a hint of curiousity in his eyes, surprised by your sudden eye contact. "why do you even care?" you question. he's been acting like a complete idiot these past few months – and after you literally cursed him out in melbourne, you haven't spoken a word to each other. and yet, he's taking time out of his day to comfort you like he would a year ago.

"come on…" he presses his lips together in a firm line, shaking his head. "no matter what happens between us, i'll always look after you."

his words, and maybe especially your emotional reaction to them, take you by surprise. despite the anger and frustration you've built up over the last few months, there's an undeniable warmth in his gaze that softens your defenses. the feeling of nostalgia and longing is so strong it's almost painful, as if he has reminded you of a connection you thought had been lost forever.

it's quite strange, considering everything that's happened. but you're not opposed to it.

"how are you feeling after the crash?" paul asks to break the silence as you reach up to dry away the last of your tears from your cheeks. "that was a big impact you had. i got away lightly in comparison."

for the first time since the crash, you stop to actually think about it and allow yourself to feel through your body. the adrenaline from the race has worn off by now, and there's a throbbing in your head that seems to just grow stronger by the second. "i think… i'm alright…"

"do you want me to go get ollie for you? the race should be done by now," he says, checking the clock on the wall in the truck. "he can take you to go see a medic."

you shake your head instantly. "please, don't. for real."

paul shoots you a strange, confused look, though he gives you a slight nod. "okay, but you have to tell him," he says, pausing a second before continuing. "i know that head of yours, you're going to combust if you keep hiding this. you can't go through it alone."

"i promise."

you don't end up going to the medical center.

you do, however, go find ollie yourself – but you don't tell him about your chat with paul. instead, you hope he doesn't take notice of the not-so-subtle signs that you've just had a complete meltdown.

it's easy to break promises to people who you don't need to stay truthful to, you realize. last year, you wouldn't even think about breaking a promise to paul – but an ex boyfriend is much easier to lie to.

your current boyfriend wraps his arms around you the second you step close enough. his lips press to the side of your head, his arms giving you another squeeze before pulling away.

ollie has gotten used to your red eyes.

he's gotten used to the sight of your tearstained cheeks, the slight pout on your lips, the heaviness in your sighs.

he's gotten used to the sinking feeling in his stomach, the pain in his chest, the guilt.

but he's also gotten used to not asking, because he knows you won't tell.

when you wake up on feature race day, something is different. it's like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders after talking to paul; like the air is suddenly much easier to breathe, and the whole world seems a little lighter. you're much more excited for the feature race of the day than any race so far this season.

in today's race, it's ollie's time to crash out. it isn't his fault, though; he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and got squeezed up against the wall by a trident car. there was nothing he could do.

as soon as he's deemed free of injuries, he makes his way back to the prema garage, joining the team in watching the rest of the race. it's a good one for you; choosing to go with the opposite strategy has really worked out for you so far, with you and zak o'sullivan being the only two drivers in the top who haven't pitted yet.

ollie follows your car intently on the screen in the garage, secretly hoping for a safety car to come out and help you out with your strategy as it's nearing the last few laps. he almost doesn't pull out of his trance even when a hand lands on his shoulder. "she's doing great," dino says from behind him, the brit nodding along to his words. "especially considering... well, she must've told you about yesterday, so i won't repeat it to you."

yesterday?

ollie looks dumbfounded for a moment before he composes himself, though he has no idea what the swede is talking about. "of course."

dino lets out a chuckle, patting his friend's shoulder. "paul said she was a complete mess when he found her," he continues, not realizing he's giving ollie more clues to help figure out what in the world he's talking about. "her anxiety was all over the place, apparently. but she's recovering, she's strong. she won't let this affect her."

ollie hums agreeingly at his words, eyes still glued to the tv in front of him. "certainly," he finally gets out. "she'll get through it with ease."

and so you did – at least for this particular race.

the virtual safety car was incredibly lucky, but that's racing sometimes. with both you and zak changing your tyres in the last lap, you both managed to end up ahead of the rest of the field, and secure a podium each.

unlike in jeddah, seeing paul's car pull up right next to yours on parc ferme isn't all that bad. after yesterday's heart-to-heart with him, you feel like at least part of this podium is thanks to him. if it weren't for his encouragement, you likely would've stuck it in the wall again.

you don't ignore him this time. you don't scoff at his words, you don't feel frustrated at his mere presence. this time, you give him a tight hug when he comes over to congratulate you, arms around his shoulders forcing him close.

"thank you," you can't help but whisper, and paul is grinning from ear to ear when he pulls away from the hug.

"don't," he answers with a quick shake of his head. "you could always pull this off. you just needed a little reminder."

and not only do your shoulders and mind feel a bit lighter as you step onto that monaco podium, but most importantly, your heart.

"i'm exhausted," you huff as you shrug your bag off your shoulders, leaving it by the door as ollie, too, makes his way into the hotel room. "thank god this weekend is finally over."

you dive onto his already-made bed, landing face-down between the pillows and blankets. the bed is huge, probably over two meters in width, and unbelievably soft. it's the first time you feel like you can truly relax since you got to monaco, and every single cell in your body thanks you for allowing them to rest a little.

"and i don't even have any sim sessions scheduled in over a week. i'm the luckiest person ever." ollie lets out a chuckle at this, his own bag crashing to the floor with a thud before his feet carry him deeper inside the room.

you turn your head and watch as he picks out a water bottle from the mini fridge, but he doesn't drink from it. instead, he makes his way to the bed, choosing to just stand next to it at first. you can't really read his expression, so you speak up – but he beats you to it. "ollie-"

"can we talk?"

you press your hands into the mattress, sitting up properly. "of course," you say, a look of unknowing dejection spreading across your features. "what's wrong?"

"that's... what i wanted to ask you, actually." ollie finally sits down on the bed, but on the opposite side of it, far from you. "what's going on? what happened yesterday?"

"oh, well..." you pause for a second, eyebrows rising as you try to find an explanation. "i just had a bad day, i didn't realize that the safety car-"

"i don't mean the race, i mean what happened after the race." his eyes are piercing into yours, not missing even the slightest movement of your face now. you've got his full attention. "with paul."

your breath hitches in your throat and you instantly look away. your voice is as low as a whisper when you speak again. "i can't believe he told you..."

"he didn't. it was someone else, but that's beside the point." you don't know if you should feel relieved that paul didn't tell ollie, or furious that he told someone else who then told ollie, but you don't have any time to think before his voice infiltrates your thoughts again. "i heard you were... i'm not going to use the same word he did, but i heard you were really upset. something about anxiety, or..."

he hopes you'll pick up where he trailed off, and despite how you're really not in the mood for this conversation right now, it feels unavoidable. "i guess... yesterday's race was really rough on me. and my racing has felt really bad recently, the anxiety has been through the roof, and..." your eyes land on your hands, watching as your fingers tremble slightly in your lap. "i don't know. something about yesterday just triggered it all again."

out of the corner of your eye, you can see ollie nodding understandingly. "how long have you been feeling like this?"

"since always, basically." a single teardrop rolls down your cheek before you even notice that you've started tearing up. you hurry to wipe it away with the sleeve of your shirt. "my mom likes to tell this story about how i used to cry if i performed poorly when i was jumping rope in kindergarten. or about how one time, i came home sobbing over the fact that i thought i was getting kicked out of kindergarten because my drawings weren't as good as the other kids'." the old stories bring a soft smile to your lips, one that soon disappears when you shake your head and squeeze your eyes shut. "it's not usually this bad, but…"

you sigh.

"it's like... imposter syndrome. i'm one of the very few women in motorsports, and i can't help but think that i'm just here because the fia wants to make the sport more equal. or because my sponsors think it's funny to have a woman among the men. or if i'm just here as eye candy. i don't deserve this, i don't have enough talent."

your little rant makes him speechless – both because he didn't expect it at all, and because to him, you're so wrong.

"you're here because you do deserve it and because you consistently perform good results, unlike most other drivers. that has nothing to do with your gender." ollie pauses for a second. "if you didn't have enough talent, you wouldn't be performing this well in a series this hard."

you can't hold back the little smile that slips onto your lips. "this is all very sweet, and i really appreciate it. but it's not that easy for me to just accept what you're saying."

yet again, he nods. "i understand." his voice is so calm, so gentle, so patient. it makes your heart soften. "i'll make sure to remind you of it more often, so that maybe it sticks."

"thank you, ollie."

a long silence follows, and you take the time to brush away a few more tears that have left your eyes. you don't know what to say or how to follow up on this heavy subject, but you don't have to think much more.

"why did you go to paul instead of me?"

your eyes dart to him at the sudden question. he's sounded so composed and calm, but he actually looks quite... nervous? his fingers are fiddling with the lid of the water bottle in his hands, and his entire upper body looks like it's trembling slightly as he breathes. "i didn't," you tell him simply. it's not a lie, per se. "he just happened to walk in on me crying."

"but why did you tell him?" ollie questions, looking up at you from the bottle. "i thought you two weren't even talking these days? ever since that fight you had?"

he is right. you don't even know why you confided in him yourself – it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing. you didn't even try to deny his help; you welcomed it (and him) with open arms.

"we talked about my struggles last year," you finally say, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. "so he knew already. and… i don't know, i guess it felt nice to talk to someone who really knows me."

"but i want to know you." he takes a deep breath before continuing. "i want to know more than your birthday and your favorite color. i want to know it all; what makes you feel good, what makes you anxious, what keeps you going, what slows you down..."

the physical distance between you two may only be a mere two meters, but you feel much more separated than that. you totally understand where he's coming from – he might be exaggerating a little, but your conversations with him are never really deep. though not sure whether it's because you just don't trust him or because you just have a hard time opening up, you can understand the despair he must be feeling.

when ollie notices that you aren't too keen on saying anything, he keeps going. "i want you to trust me. i want to be the person you tell these things to." he scoots closer to you on the bed, one of his hands landing on top of your knee. "i really want to make this work between us. my feelings for you are so strong, just..."

the pain in his eyes is so intense it sends a shiver down your spine, his gaze cutting through you like a knife. your own eyes begin to well up again, but you can't look away now.

"i really want you to give this, give me, a chance."

you've never seen him like this before. hopeless, desperate, practically begging. and in an instant, the guilt comes creeping back into you.

you're the one who's making him feel like this; it's all your fault. and how cruel wouldn't it be to not at least give him an honest chance?

"of course." your voice is weak and shaky, but you nod. "i want that, too. really."

ollie drops his water bottle to the floor before opening his arms wide for you. "come here."

it's easy to climb into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he holds you close. it's easy to lean into him, to inhale his sweet scent, and it's so easy to relax.

you wish it was as easy to open up to him. oh, how badly you wish it was as easy as a-b-c or do-re-mi. you really want to let him in; you, too, want this to work.

the silence that follows is a comfortable one. the air feels thick with unspoken emotions, a heaviness of the previous conversation still lingering, but there's an unspoken understanding between you and ollie. the previously well-known weight of the world on your shoulders seems to lift, if only momentarily; his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back is like a silent reassurance that he's there, he's present, and he's willing to wait for you to open up in your own time.

after what feels like an eternity, ollie breaks the silence. "let's do something. let's go on a vacation together."

you lean back slightly, just enough to look at his face but stay in his hold. "…what?"

your reaction isn't exactly what he had hoped for, but he goes on. "i'm going back to italy this week, you should come with me." he reaches up with a hand to your face, thumb softly massaging away the frown you hadn't even noticed had formed. "we'll travel around, go see the national parks, hike in the mountains... swim in the sea, eat at good italian restaurants..."

your features soften at his suggestions; it all does sound very sweet. still, you can't hold back from asking, "but why?"

"we have almost a month until the next race weekend, and you said that you don't have any sims this week. this could help take your mind off racing, and..." a sheepish smile appears on his face. "maybe it could make us get a little closer."

uncertainties and conflicting thoughts continue to cloud your heart, making the decision harder than it should be. on one hand, accepting the offer could offer a much-needed reprieve from all the pressures of the racing world. on the other hand, your unresolved feelings for paul still hold you back. spending a romantic holiday with ollie sounds like a dream, just as much as the mere thought of revealing yourself to him makes you nauseous from the fear.

but you want to be brave. and maybe to let go of paul, you need to just forget about your worries and dive head-first into ollie.

"it sounds perfect. let's do it."

yourusername just posted!

yourusername we're back baby!! leaving monaco with some good points. 🔜 barcelona and the team's home race, let's go 😁

show all 78 comments

user finally back on the podium! ❤️💙

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user great drive today !!!

→ user it was just luck 😭 without the vsc she would've never gotten that podium

→ user okay and??

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

olliebearman what's up with the hair dinobeganovic_

→ yourusername it's called fashion

→ dinobeganovic_ it's called waking up at 5 for a feature race

→ user you're still gorgeous dino 😚

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

redbulljuniorteam 💪💙❤️

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

sebasmontoya58 pepe don't punch the girl, she did nothing wrong

→ yourusername i did nothing wrong!!!

→ pepemartiofficial tell him what you did

→ yourusername never

→ pepemartiofficial sebas check your whatsapp

→ yourusername YOU WOULDNT

→ pepemartiofficial i totally would

90 notes · View notes

peterspinkrobe · 1 year

Text

Revelation - Priest!Miguel x Reader [part 3]

Word count: 2,878

Rating/Warnings: mature. Naughty thoughts and naughty bits. Mentions of parental death, religious content, food, soooo much Catholic guilt.

A/N: I’m so glad you guys are enjoying the series so far! No more money in my budget for commissioned art this month, but I did take this picture of St. Phillip’s Church while visiting my uncle in Charleston. Please let me know what you think of this chapter! If you haven’t read part 1 or part 2, go do that first :p

Tagged peeps: @friendlynbhdzero @ceoofghosts @hoelychildofgod @tayleighuh @luckycandykitten @beebslebobs @milkyardbetter @miaasmf @koimess @miggyswhore (sorry if I missed you in the taglist or if it messed up the tag!!!)

There were two things known about your mother: her cooking and her follow through. She was the delegate for church and community event meals; oftentimes in the kitchen doing the work herself alongside people that respected her and her cooking.

Your mother prided herself in her cooking and it kept her going in times of hurt for you both. She was the one baking casseroles to give to neighbors when dad passed. It was you who had to sit her down to eat something most days.

If God had anything to do with her getting better, it was in giving her that ability to provide in a way some overlooked. She buzzed while she worked her talents in the church’s kitchen now. The previously mentioned follow through evident in her meticulous manner of cleaning right behind herself as she cooked.

That follow through was especially true now as she was making sure you followed the rules she had set in place regarding church and attendance. Not only were you going this Sunday since you missed the last service, but you were also helping with the Wednesday church dinner.

You know she wants the best for you. It took you a long time (and a lot of space) to see that she showed it in the ways she knew how, the ways she was raised. You try to sprinkle the amount of salt she showed you earlier onto the massive amount of rolls. Despite your physical presence where she asked, you know your hearts and values don’t lie within the boundaries of shared faith.

You didn’t mind the service aspect of religion though. In fact, you enjoyed assisting your mother when she helped others in the community. You only pretended to follow the ‘good book’ and ‘walk the righteous path’ to spare her. What you had issues with was the institution of religion itself and some probably never-to-be-resolved personal qualms with the man upstairs. First, why did god have to be a man?

You’d never admit these questions and doubts to her, it would devastate her.

You did, however, admit it to someone.

Your confession last Thursday and the fact that Reverend Miguel was on the receiving end of all your revelations had you waking up suddenly in the night this past week - jolting from the bed, a quickening pulse, and sweat dampening the sheets. The concern in his deep, dark-eyed stare from that day stuck with you. You felt shame, guilt, maybe both, or something else unnamed and it kept you from indulging in the pleasure he had so easily made you feel without even being in the room. You still felt tense knots in your shoulders as you worked.

It was easy to feign sickness when you actually felt feverish and drained after you’d let those inner thoughts become spoken truths.. Your mother worried when you wouldn’t come out of your room. When you missed (skipped) church, she showed her concern and care with homemade chicken noodle soup. Moping, unbothered lasted only another day before she was yanking covers off you and having you run errands around town. ‘Getting back on your feet is the first step to feeling better,’ she retorted to your groans early that Monday morning. No more laying out of church…

You had to think of another way to avoid him. A way to steer clear of any sort of confrontation

You thought about moving away, dramatic, yes, but maybe into the city. Not too far from mom, because she needed help more than she admitted. Tonight was a prime example as her usual kitchen hands said they weren’t feeling well. This was helpful in negating any suspicions your mom had of you lying about being ill. Moving wouldn’t be running away, you were an adult.

You had literally run away though. As soon as the reality of who had taken your confession set in, you ran right out of that booth, back into the bustling city, onto the bumpy bus, and curled up into yourself at home. As you’re thinking about the many help wanted signs and rent postings you saw in the city, you hear chatter that interrupts the flow you two had created in the kitchen.

Mom is being pulled away by another member of the church and she instructs you to make two plates for the people who weren’t able to help her with cooking this evening. You’re pulling the last of the vegetables out of the oven and she hovers a moment, uncomfortable leaving you to the important final preparations.

It’s hard not to feel offended. Five years ago you would have rolled your eyes and commented on how if she didn't trust you, you shouldn’t be doing it in the first place.

“It’s okay,” you assure her as you wash your hands before preparing their plates, “I’ve got this.” You smile gently at her for you know you both need reassurance at times. She pinches her lips together but nods and leaves you alone.

Styrofoam to-go plates were open on the counter, waiting to receive their fill. You eyed the dinner and patted yourself on the back. Mom thought up the meal and did most of the actual ingredient brain power and temperature controls, but you’d done your part as well. It did feel good to do for others even if you still felt down.

A wide pan of meatloaf with a perfect caramelized sauce on top sat as the main course. Alongside it was some cabbage slaw and a broccoli cheddar bake. You make the to-go plates with equal portions and top them each with a roll. Your favorite part were the green onion rolls and you couldn't help but sneak one as the hours of prep and cooking left you famished.

You placed foil over the containers of your mom’s truly famous strawberry cobbler for it to cool when everyone ate. Most of the produce has come from the local farms. You savored the first bite of the fresh roll and marinated on the flavors of home, wondering if you could really leave this behind again.

You’re setting out the plates and silverware for the church members when you hear footsteps behind you. You turn to tell your mom that you’d made the plates, but it’s not her that now joined you in the kitchen.

Tense shoulders, little sleep… you were as tight as a coil ready to spring so you jumped a little when you saw the towering figure as you turned.

Reverend O’Hara’s eyes showed the same concern from last week, but softer. His feet shuffled slightly and he put his hands up as if he had approached an animal in the wild. He had a hesitant, more nervous aura than the suave confidence he usually eluded.

He opened his mouth to speak and you heard him say your name again in that sweet voice…

______________________________________

Standing before you now, Deacon Miguel found himself reflecting on the unexpected confession he heard last week. It was a confession that had stirred within him a mix of emotions and conflicting thoughts.

Miguel had contemplated how to address this delicate situation for it simply couldn’t go ignored. You matter. Your feelings matter. The deacon knew it was crucial that he approach this with compassion and understanding. Faith was a deeply personal journey, and each individual had their own struggles and doubts. Lord knew he’d faced his own in the past and that even if his current standings were solid, they were shaky.

His mind had been consumed by the weight of what he had learned. He couldn't help but feel a profound connection to you when he first placed the communion wafer on your tongue, the tongue that had inadvertently confessed impure thoughts to him. Though your honesty and vulnerability struck a chord within him.

Unbeknownst to you, the deacon struggled with similar doubts and desires. When he heard your confession, his heart weighed heavily with empathy and understanding. Though he couldn’t help the mix of relief in his emotions as well. It was comforting to know he wasn’t alone in grappling with faith, the temptation, and the forbidden attraction that he felt towards you.

Denying his own attraction to you was impossible.

Despite his commitment to his faith and role within the church, he too has found himself captivated by your presence and constantly battled his own desires. Since he’d laid eyes on you that faithful Sunday morning, he’d felt an invisible force bind himself to you. Much like he had bound himself to the service of God Almighty, he found himself wanting to serve you.

Miguel O’Hara couldn’t get that mental image out of his mind. Serving you… The more he tried to control his urges, the harder they became to ignore. He’d been doing what he was told all these many years in the church, abstaining from giving in too much. But no matter how much he tried to uphold the image of chaste, he is merely flesh.

The views of his brothers in Christ were archaic. They forget that the sacrifice of the only Son was done in love, despite our sins. He truly believed that it is natural, God-given even, to experience attraction to fellow flesh. It’s natural to seek a partner in life. He’s human. He’s prone to straying from the path. He is only human. He just hopes that God understands when he asks for forgiveness and repentance.

He struggles with the guilt of falling into temptation when he feels he’ll come undone if he doesn’t allow himself release. He isn’t able to hold back now as much as times prior. Not when you had captivated his spirit.

He also felt guilty for viewing you in the explicit ways that he thought of you. Focusing on the way clothes hugged your body and needing to know what hid in the heaven of your thighs. While Matthew says not to judge others, he also mentions in the Good Book that, “whoever looks […] to lust at someone, has already committed adultery with them in his heart.” If he were to really follow the written word, Miguel would have to pluck out his eyes for his transgressions against you in his mind.

His flesh weakens when he remembers how soft your lips were under the pad of his thumb. The way your eyes looked into his as he cupped your chin.

Cold showers are his usual go-to when it comes to trying to avoid the temptation of touch. His large shoulders hunched slightly when the frigid water fell onto his skin. It’s in vain though each time because his body still radiates heat of passion from thoughts of you. When he looks down at himself, he curses his body’s reaction to thoughts of your mouth. His painfully hard cock begs for your touch. It’s always too much to bear. The tip of him screaming red and leaking despite the cold temperatures.

When he gives in, it’s always too fast. Finally gripping himself the way he’d liked, imagining showing that way to you, he pumped himself with his hand. His grunts steamed the shower even further as he envisioned you with him. Oh, how he longed to feel you and learn you like scripture. His wanton movements force him to brace himself on the shower wall as an image that always brings over the edge flashes his in mind: your legs spread in offering of your own communion. It’s enough to make him see stars as your name echoes in his shower like hallelujahs.

He wishes it wasn’t shame that he felt after. He wishes his comedown was met with comfort from you. He allows the evidence of his shame to wash from himself down the drain, but the feeling is still there. You were more than someone to be lusted over.

While the sexual attraction was strong, he also yearned to know more about you. You’d only revealed little bits of yourself in the confession booth but he was intrigued, nonetheless. He wanted to know more about your conflict with faith, wondered what your childhood was like and what foods you enjoyed, interested in learning your outlook on life. Miguel wanted to learn your personal philosophies as if it were doctrine.

Not seeing you at the previous Sunday service hurt. He understood, given your beliefs, that he couldn’t expect you at church. It wasn’t an attendance issue, which he would not enforce on anyone, but the empty aisle seat in the middle pew made him feel equally as vacant. It didn’t matter to him if you were conflicted or steadfast on Christian values. Matthew 7 held his strongest position on the matter of judgment: it wasn’t his place. He was simply a figurehead of spiritual guidance.

In fact, he had geared his sermon slightly towards you for that Sunday. He couldn’t help the itch to address the issue in a way he was comfortable, through scripture. He didn’t want to convert your faith to Jesus Christ. He wanted to help you restore faith in yourself.

You conjured in him quotes from Corinthians: a book in the Bible that speaks of faith, hope, and love. He carefully highlighted 2 Corinthians 4:16-18 the night of your confession as he crafted his sermon. “[…], our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light, momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.” Yes… the Bible is literally referencing heaven as the eternal glory, but it’s all metaphorical. “Unseen” was the key word in this theological message. He knew the congregation visualized pearly gates and mansions of clouds as a reward for the pain they experienced on this terrain. What he had hoped you would have gotten to hear was that there were so many possibilities when one had faith in themselves. He wanted to show you the unlocked potential housed within yourself.

He had a lot to say as he stood before you now. There’s so much you need to know, need to hear.

First, you needed to know that you were wrong.

He said your name to get your attention.

But, there wasn’t a sound after that for a moment, until your mother and a few other members of the church came through the double doors.

________________________________________

You snapped out of the trance Miguel had you locked in with the song of your name on his lips when your mom burst into the kitchen with some of her friends.

You reach to get the cups out of a cabinet and simply ignore the deacon for a moment despite the flush in your cheeks. Easily explainable by the heat of the kitchen.

“Everything is ready! Mom, I’ve got two plates ready to go for later. Come on and eat, everyone!” Your mother’s friends all compliment her on her well behaved child and you catch her eyes. There’s no strictness in her expression. She simply beams at you, her child.

Members of the church start calling out, ‘Let’s eat!’, ‘Smells good!’, and mentioning how they knew they were in for a good meal as it was your mom that did the cooking.

As people pour into the serving area and line up, you hear Reverend Miguel’s voice above the hustle of hungry people.

“Before we enjoy this delicious looking food, let us first thank the cooks and then I suppose we should bless the meal, yes?” He was smiling as he said this, as if prayer before a meal was only a formality. It seemed as though the appreciation for you two was what he was after as you watched the church thank your mother and you for your cooking. You shrugged off the bits of praise you received as it really was your mom who did the majority of the work.

An elder member is selected to lead the church in prayer and everyone bows their head. You’re still riding a buzz from the work, not to mention seeing Miguel again after almost a week. You can’t seem to bring your eyes down.

You scanned the room of bowed heads and smiling faces and found the deacon’s gaze on you again. This time, you smiled at him and nodded in appreciation. The prayer concludes and your mother’s smile at the praise makes your heart feel warm. Due to the spotlight on her cooking she was forced to be first to get her plate of food, something she usually didn’t do until after everyone had gotten their own plate. Sometimes after they’d gotten seconds. She had found her a community of support and love.

As the church members started scooping portions onto plates, you saw Reverend Miguel approach you again. He stands by your side and you watch as the congregation gets their food and he leans to his side a little toward you. He speaks in a hushed tone as he asks,

“Can we go somewhere to talk?” You swallow dryly, but his next word nearly knocks you off your feet.

“Alone?”

#miguel o'hara #fanfic #miguel x reader #priest!miguel #miguel x you #priest au #across the spiderverse #heathenry

957 notes · View notes

bodybahng · 2 months

Text

happy for you

masterlist

word count: 4.6k

pairing: brief fwb!chan x gn!reader, han x gn!reader

warnings: nsfw/mentions of sex and one quick smut scene (minors do not interact), unprotected sex (do not do this!), a bit of angst, alcohol mention, drunk character, jealousy

a/n: this was inspired by ‘i like it’. thank you to everyone who voted in my poll to choose the two members involved <3 and thanks to dear @bunnliix for beta reading it :3 i hope you guys enjoy it, feedback is greatly appreciated!

if you are a minor or an ageless blog and interact with my content, you will be blocked.

it wasn’t supposed to be like this. one drunk hookup was all it took for you and chan to become friends with benefits, agreeing from the start that there were no strings attached. he didn’t want to be in a relationship and you didn’t mind having some fun seeing as you were single anyway.

the first couple of months were nice, either of you reaching out when you needed to blow off some steam and leaving once you were both satisfied. it was simple enough and worked really well.

the boys were definitely aware of your shenanigans, as there was no reason to hide it from them. it wasn’t awkward, but the past four months had you wondering if things were still the same.

chan started acting more affectionate towards you whenever you were together in bed or in his room, something he’d avoided in the beginning so the lines wouldn’t become blurred. you started wondering if something had changed for him to interact differently, but instead of asking him directly, you decided to wait.

it wasn’t until one particularly rare day, when you’d slept at the dorm because he called you over too late. you woke up with him cuddling you tight in his sleep, making your thoughts and heart race.

your feelings for him had never been anywhere past friendship, admiration and carnal desire, but it was hard to not think about progressing in your relationship, if you could even call it that.

“mornin’,” he said in a raspy voice as he pressed a kiss to your exposed shoulder. his t-shirt you had slept in had slipped down a little. “d’you sleep well?”

you hoped he couldn’t feel the way your breathing picked up, wanting to leave his hold so you could clear your mind. “yeah. you?”

“mhm,” he hummed, snuggling his face into your neck, his hot breath hitting your sensitive skin. a moan pushed past your lips before you were able to hold it back. “it’s not even 9 a.m. and you’re already up for some more fun?” he joked, eyes fluttering open to stare at you closely with a smirk.

trying to suppress your need, you chuckled as you pushed him away from you. “what i need is to get ready to go back home, sundays are for cleaning, remember?”

chan groaned in disapproval, but he let you get out of bed since he knew he couldn’t convince you to stay. he watched with half-lidded eyes as you changed into your clothes and picked up your bag. you were wearing black shorts and a simple button down, and he couldn’t help but stare at your bare legs.

“i’ll see you later then,” you said, biting your lip as he sat up in bed, covers falling to his hips and revealing his naked chest. “i’ll be busy the whole week except for thursday.”

he quickly went over his schedule in his head and nodded. “i’ll text you and we’ll meet up.” he waved and watched as you left and closed the door to his room.

“oh, y/n, hi!” han greeted as you walked out into the hallway, rubbing a towel on his dripping hair. “didn’t know you stayed over last night.”

if there was someone you always had a soft spot for, it was jisung. all of the boys knew that, since you’d often give him special treatment when you all went out to eat or when you went on trips and brought them gifts.

that’s exactly why everyone was a bit shocked to find out you and chan had been going out, you didn’t make a big deal out of it but also didn’t have any reason to go behind their backs and see chan in private. the seven of them always made sure to keep their curiosity to themselves, at least in front of you. who knew what they asked chan whenever you left.

“good morning, ji.” you smiled, wanting to hug him but holding your arms back, thinking how terrible it would be since you probably smelled like chan and sex. “i was about to leave ‘cause i have to clean the house,” you complained, dramatically dropping your shoulders and jutting your bottom lip out.

“have you eaten breakfast yet?” he asked, motioning for you to walk to the kitchen with him. “i can make you something before you go.”

you smiled warmly at the boy, squeezing his cheek as a silent thank you before you sat on a stool. “whatcha up to today?”

“not much, might play and write for a while then maybe watch some anime on my own or with minho hyung,” he spoke from his spot on the stove, the towel hanging on his neck giving him a soft, cosy look. “it’s not really a solid plan. are you going to be busy all day?”

“not really, i just have to tidy up and organise my stuff. but as you know, it’s a small place, so it won’t take long.” you sighed, resting your elbows on the counter. “wanna hang out after?”

han turned around, getting distracted by your legs for a second and then looking up to see you smiling. “i was about to ask the same! do you wanna go somewhere or stay in?” he took the plate with food and placed it in front of you.

“thanks,” you muttered, taking a bite. “delicious as always, ji. and maybe we could order some take out and i could watch anime with you instead?”

“perfect,” he replied, grabbing his phone in his pocket as it buzzed. “i’ll go over at 6, is that okay?”

“mhm,” you hummed, eating quickly so you could leave. “see you soon, thanks again for the food!”

ᝰ.ᐟ

“fuck, ah, you feel so good,” he moaned as he finally bottomed out, enjoying the way you clenched around him. he had been teasing you for so long, having eaten you out and made you come three times before pushing himself in. “i can’t get enough of you.”

pulling him in for a sloppy kiss, he swallowed every sound you made, hands touching every part of your skin that he could find. you pulled his hair as he hit the perfect spot inside of you, your other hand coming up to play with yourself as he thrusted deep. “you’re so- hng, so deep. i’m c-close.”

he smirked, sucking on your neck as you rolled your eyes, your high approaching quickly. it didn’t take long for you to tip over the edge, feeling the way he pulled back to release all over your stomach, some of it reaching your nipples.

“how is your body so perfect?” he asked as he cleaned you up with his mouth, rushing to grab a wet cloth to finish the job. “you’re perfect.”

your breath caught in your throat, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable. you got your clothes from the floor and got dressed as he did the same. you gathered up the courage to ask what had been haunting you.

“chan, don’t take this the wrong way, but… what are we exactly? i know we’re just friends that fuck, but lately you’ve been calling me more, taking me out to do stuff that couples do, cuddling when you kept your distance before… i’m starting to get mixed signals.”

he pressed his lips in a thin line as he took a deep breath. this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have, but he knew sooner or later you’d press him about it. “we’re just having fun. i love being around you and i really like what we have, but i don’t see why there’s a need to put a label on it. can’t we just be…us?”

the words you were about to say died on your throat as the doorbell rang, making your stomach drop. curse you for giving into chan, especially when you had just been with each other the previous night, and curse him for having great stamina and spending more time at your place than he was supposed to.

“oh, you’re expecting company?” he questioned as you walked to the front of your house. “you could’ve told me.”

“i did tell you, but you were too lost in pleasure to hear!” you whisper yelled, closing your eyes to recompose before opening the door. “hey, jisungie.” you tried your best to give him a genuine smile, but everything about this made you want to run and hide.

“hey!” he said excitedly, lifting his hand to show you he brought your favourite food. “i know we usually order together, but…” he widened his eyes as he stepped in and saw chan standing beside you. “chan hyung? oh.”

“um, sorry, he was just leaving!” you said bashfully, rushing the older one out the door before closing the door, not bothering to say bye to him. “i’m so sorry, uh, i’m gonna take a shower real quick.”

you left before he could say anything and locked yourself in your bedroom. in record time, you had organised your bed, taken a shower and put on some comfortable clothes.

han was sitting on the couch with plates and glasses full on the coffee table, typing away on his phone until he noticed your presence while you walked up to him.

“that was quick,” he commented, not knowing what else to say.

“sorry about that,” you said sheepishly. “he was supposed to-”

“you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he was quick to interrupt, knowing how bad you must’ve been feeling about the interaction. “let’s just eat now and watch something.”

nodding, you grabbed your food and started eating while he turned the TV on and scrolled to find a show you both wanted to watch. it was hard to focus when there were so many things swimming in your head.

eventually, the sound of your heavy breathing grabbed han’s attention, glancing to see you hugging your legs and leaning your head into the couch with your lips parted.

he had avoided looking at you the whole time, only making small comments about the show here and there. he hadn’t realised when you’d fallen asleep, now turning the sound down to not disturb you.

han ran a hand through his hair, wondering why he couldn’t just bring himself to talk to you about his feelings. he was planning on doing so on a random winter night, giving himself a pep talk in his room before coming out and seeing you entering chan’s bedroom with him littering your neck with kisses, kicking the door closed.

he had cried for most of the night, doubt and pain taking over his body as he repeatedly asked himself why he hadn't said anything before. but of course you’d want chan, who wouldn’t?

ever since then, he decided to keep his crush hidden, telling himself being your friend was better than losing you altogether. he never was upfront and didn’t ask either of you what exactly was the nature of your relationship, he couldn’t subject himself to this humiliation.

a mumble coming from you brought him out of the pity party going on in his head, focusing his attention on your sleeping form. he decided to turn the TV off, letting his hand rest on your shoulder to shake you lightly.

“y/n? come on, let’s get you to bed,” he whispered, laughing quietly as you just mumbled again and raised your arms. “oh, you wanna be carried?”

he didn’t wait for an answer as he sat at the edge of the couch and positioned you so he could carry you on his back. you hugged him tightly when he got up, chin resting on his shoulder, and he took you to your bed, laying you gently on the mattress.

opening your eyes briefly, you wriggled to get under the covers, keeping one end of it lifted up. when han just stared at you, you pulled at his hand. “come lie down.”

his flushed cheeks burned at the request, but he shook his head and tucked you in. “it’s not too late, i’ll just go back home.” he pressed a kiss to your temple before saying good night and leaving.

the next morning, your annoying alarm sounded loudly in the room, making you groan as you stirred in bed. reaching your arm to turn it off, you stretched and yawned, sitting up. the memory of han carrying you to bed and refusing to (literally) sleep with you came rushing back and you took a deep breath, also remembering what occurred prior to that.

why did things have to be so confusing? it wasn’t like you wanted a relationship with chan. but he also didn’t make it easy to not expect those things. you had to make a decision before things got bad between you two and ruined group hang outs.

after getting dressed for work and grabbing your things, you ate breakfast quickly and made a plan to text him on your lunch break, determined to end things. maybe it was inconsiderate of you to not do it in person, but that would just force you to go there only to break things off, and you didn’t want to deal with how awkward it would be.

when the time came, you chose to call him instead, after making sure to text him and ask if he was free to talk at that moment.

“hey, y/n,” he answered brightly. “everything alright?”

“hi, channie, yeah. i was hoping to talk to you about yesterday?” it sounded more like a question, wanting to know if he was up to discuss it.

“oh. what about yesterday? did i upset you because han arrived and i hadn’t left yet?”

“that was a little tough to deal with, but no, i wasn’t upset.” you sighed, forcing yourself to just spill it. “i think we should stop seeing each other. well, in the way we have been, obviously i want to still see you as a friend.”

the line was silent for a few beats as chan processed what you said. “so you were upset that i said we shouldn’t put official labels on us?”

“i’m not upset, chan, don’t worry about that. i just don’t think it’ll be good for us if this keeps going. well, for me,” you admitted, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“but why, though? things are fine as they are, just because i don’t want to date you this has to end?” he sounded defensive, which was weird coming from him. “why ruin the fun?”

“look, chan, we’ve been having fun, but as i said, the way you’re doing things is sending me a different message and even if i know you don’t want me like that, that’s my limit. i can’t do cutesy stuff with you while we’re just together to fuck.”

“and what if i stop doing that? we go back to just sex and being friends?” chan didn’t get the issue, wanting to keep having the option to call you when he wanted to de-stress.

“chan, this is my decision. i want to stop,” you said firmly, with a tone of finality. “it was good while it lasted, but it’s over.”

“okay... i can respect that,” he replied, adding that he needed to get back to practice, and then hung up.

ᝰ.ᐟ

it only took you a couple weeks to completely move on from your ‘situationship’ with chan. the fact that you stopped before you could develop real feelings for him was the smartest thing you could’ve done for yourself.

yesterday, there was a group hang out at the cuties’ dorm that went smoothly, you didn’t feel any tension or had weird interactions with any of them, especially not chan. it was good to have mature friends who you could just talk to and solve things instead of holding grudges and bottling things up until it inevitably exploded.

when you and the four boys left, they invited you to sleep at their place, since it was a friday. you took the couch even after changbin, hyunjin and han offered to take it so you could sleep more comfortably in their rooms. chan stayed quiet, not wanting to say the wrong thing to upset you and, since no one batted an eye, you figured he probably had already told them you weren’t seeing each other like that anymore.

the next day, after eating breakfast with the four of them, changbin and chan left to go to the gym while hyunjin was going to hang out with jeongin, leaving you and han alone. there was a voice that kept nagging him in his head to just talk to you about it. he didn’t know if it was too soon, but you looked like you were okay.

“i wanted to ask you something, but feel free to not respond,” he spoke up from his spot on the couch, hands on his lap as he stopped them from shaking. “why did you break up with chan hyung?”

locking your phone and leaving it aside, you got closer to him. “we just wanted different things, i guess.” he looked confused, so you continued, “we were pretty much exclusive, but he didn’t want to date me. we did a lot of things that couples do, and when i talked to him about it, he just said we were having fun and didn’t need to label it.”

han kept quiet as he listened to you, nodding to show he was paying attention. “i didn’t like chan like that, but with time i started thinking that it would be nice to have something on the more serious side, so i talked to him and decided it was better to stop.”

“that makes sense. and you’re okay with all that now?”

you didn’t even hesitate to nod, giving him a smile. “yeah. it’s not like i had feelings for him, but i knew i could have potentially developed them if things stayed the same. so it’s better to not be with him and be able to give someone else a chance.”

the silence that came after that was deafening to him. with your last sentence, he kept thinking ‘just say it’, but his mouth wouldn’t move. he eventually just nodded in acknowledgement and turned the TV on to put on the same show you had been watching together.

when your pair of friends came back from exercising, they walked in to find you and han cuddling, asleep on the couch. changbin glanced at chan, who couldn’t stop staring at you two for a full minute. he huffed and locked himself in his room for the rest of the morning.

“han, y/n,” hyunjin called when he got back, holding back a smile as he watched the two of you. “we ordered lunch, come eat with us.”

both of you were blushing messes when you woke up, realising the position you’d ended up in. after joining the others in the kitchen, the five of you chatted casually as you ate, and the whole time, you could feel the way han’s leg rested against yours beneath the table.

when all of you were done, you started washing the dishes as a way to thank them for letting you stay and paying for the food. han stayed to keep you company while the others hung out in the living room.

han and you went to their shared bathroom to brush your teeth before you’d go back to spend time with the rest of them. his heart tugged in his chest at how domestic you two looked, with him leaning on the wall and looking at you in the mirror as you stood in front of him. the simple action had him feeling a sudden surge of courage, and once you were ready, he asked you to come to his room for a second. your heart picked up its speed as the two of you stood next to each other.

you could see the way his body shook lightly and placed a hand on his shoulder, taking him to sit on the edge of his bed. “ji, whatever it is you seem to want to tell me, it’s okay. it’s just me, there’s no need to be nervous,” you said softly, grabbing his hand in yours. “what’s up?”

“i’ll just get it out then… i like y-you,” he confessed, eyes refusing to meet yours. “actually, i have liked you for a long time, but i was too scared to say anything. the day that i tried i saw you and chan… so i thought i would just get over it, but it hasn’t gone away. if you don’t like me back, that’s okay, i can deal with it, but i just needed to tell you.”

there it was once again, that silence hitting him in the face. his body was rigid, even if you were rubbing soothing circles on the back of his hand with your thumb.

“jisungie, look at me,” you said gently, one hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. he slowly glanced up, and you smiled at him. “you’re very cute, do you know that?”

you could feel his cheeks heating up as your palm came up to hold the side of his face. “the truth is, i have been feeling something for you… that day we hung out, i felt so bad that chan was there, and i couldn’t bring myself to say anything to you other than apologise because i was a little conflicted.”

“what do you mean?” he questioned, head leaning into your touch.

“well, we all know you’ve always been my favourite, even if nobody says it out loud.” you laughed, and his eyes softened. “i just didn’t let myself notice what the feeling was because we were all good friends and a part of me thought that approaching you could ruin that, at last that’s what chan had told me when i randomly joked about one of you falling for me.”

han scoffed, why would chan say that? was it so that he could have you all to himself?

“then, chan and i got drunk one day and when he said he could be mature enough to differentiate between friendship and desire, i convinced myself that it would be a good way to get over you… i know that sounds bad, but i didn’t know how to deal with it maturely six months ago.”

“so… do you still feel something towards me? and do you know what it is you feel?” he was trying his best to not sound hopeful, but his eyes gave everything away.

“i do, ji. i really like you,” you admitted, mirroring him as he flashed his heart shaped smile at you. you pecked the tip of his nose, making him scrunch it with a chuckle.

“so… what does that mean for us now?” he asked a bit more seriously, still unsure how to go about this whole thing.

“well, we already know each other pretty well, i think it’s just a matter of easing into the change,” you explained with a shrug, tilting your head as if asking for his thoughts.

“i would love that, y/n.” and with that, he couldn’t hold back anymore, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into his lap, resting his forehead against yours. “can i kiss you now, please?”

“you don’t even have to ask, baby,” you replied, making him melt at the pet name, and met him halfway to capture his lips in the most intense, breathtaking kiss you’d ever experienced.

neither of you cared for delicate kisses right now with how desperate you both were to be close to each other, and when his tongue brushed against yours, your body reacted on its own. you bucked your hips, pressing into his already growing bulge and making him break the kiss as a surprised moan left his lips.

you could see that he was feeling embarrassed and tried saying something, but you interrupted him. “do not even think about apologising for that, baby,” you warned, pecking his lips. “if i’m lucky, soon i’ll get to hear even more of you, hm?”

“we’ve barely even started and i can already tell you’ll be the death of me, y/n.” he panted, his thumb on your back rubbing back and forth. “but i’ll die a happy man, i’m sure.”

you chuckled at his cheesiness, pushing him back as you kissed him again to make up for all the lost time. but, before it could go any further, you heard someone clearing their throat, making both of you look at the door.

chan looked pissed for some reason, and neither of you could understand why. “hyunjin wants to watch a movie and sent me to ask if you’ll watch it with us.”

you got up from han’s lap, pulling him to stand up with you. “yeah, we’re going…”

ᝰ.ᐟ

things had been amazing ever since you and han stopped being oblivious idiots and talked to each other, the group was really happy for you. all except one. chan.

you didn’t get why, it wasn’t like he wanted you that same way, so why did he seem to be extra grumpy every time you and han were close together?

all it took was for him to get drunk one day, showing up at your doorstep. you furrowed your brows as han was in your bathroom taking a shower, and you weren’t expecting anyone else over, much less now that it was past midnight.

“chan? are you okay? what are you doing here?” you held his arm as he stumbled in, his whole body reeking of alcohol.

“why,” he started, being interrupted by a hiccup. “why'd you do this?” a couple tears fell down his face. “everything was goin’ well, i liked it, but you broke my heart.”

you felt a pang in your chest at his words. was he really that selfish to not realise what he had done to himself? “chan, you are very drunk right now and i’m gonna ask ji to drive you home, you shouldn’t be here.”

“ji,” he spat. “what does he have that i don’t?”

your patience was wearing thin, but you knew you couldn’t be too harsh on him, you would do that when you confronted him sober tomorrow. “he was honest about what he felt, instead of just playing around and not giving us a shot.”

“darling, are you getting a snack?” han called from the hallway, searching for you and stopping once he saw his oldest friend leaning most of his weight into you as he cried. “hyung, what are you doing here?”

you turned to look at your boyfriend, shaking your head. “can you please take him home?”

he nodded, still confused, but knowing you would let him know what happened later. chan was a little resistant to leave, but you two were able to get him inside the car. “i’ll be right back,” han said, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“drive safe,” you replied, getting inside your house as he drove away.

you were more surprised than sad at the situation, not thinking that chan had it in him to accuse you of something when you were the one who was open and talked to him about it. you just hoped your friendship with him and the others wouldn’t be affected negatively by this down the line.

you tried to wait for han to come back, but eventually your eyes felt heavy and you fell asleep. you didn’t know how much time passed when you felt the bed dip, his cold arms pulling you to him.

“hi, baby, sorry it took me a while,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair. “good night.”

“night, ji” you mumbled, barely aware of what you were saying. “love you.”

if it wasn’t so late in the night, he would’ve jumped around in excitement, having waited so long to hear those words from you. “i love you too, y/n.”

#louie writes #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #han jisung x reader #han x reader #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #stray kids fic #skz fic

138 notes · View notes

honeyboylovee · 10 months

Text

‘the bed was so cold without you’

Pairing: Idol!Mingyu x gn!reader

Word count: 500ish

Genre: Idol!Au, established relationship!AU, fluff

Warnings: mentions of food and baking a cake, mentions of staying up late, they kiss once, they’re in love that’s all<3

A/N: I got this idea from a pinterest trope list and decided to write it. It is way longer that I expected it to be. I just love this man! What can I say? Feedbacks are very appreciated. I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading.

—————————————🩵————————————-

Your apartment is dimly lit when Mingyu enters inside. As he takes off his jacket, his gaze falls on the covered plate of food kept on the table, which he guesses you had cooked for him. This is the third time this week that he is late from work. He looks into the living room for any sight of you.

You aren’t there. Maybe you’re already asleep, he thinks to himself.

Walking towards the kitchen he eats the food on the table after reheating it. He even washes the plate. He knows very well that you do not like to wake up to dirty plates in the sink. Once done with that, he moves upstairs.

As he climbs the stairs, he can’t help but be excited to see your face. He assumes that you’re sleeping considering it’s an hour past midnight. When he reaches towards your shared bedroom, his gaze falls on a dim source of light coming from the room.

You’re watching something on your mobile. Your attention shifts to him when he opens the bedroom door.

‘You’re here’, you say with a smile on your face as you put your phone aside after pausing the video.

Mingyu can’t help but smile when he sees you in your pyjamas looking so cozy. You stretch your arms out for him to come and hug you. And he does so. How you missed his hugs for the last few days! With his comeback nearing, you hadn’t gotten much time with him but you understood.

‘Why’re you still awake, my love?’, he asks you softly.

‘I just can’t sleep for some reason,’, you say, ‘and I also missed you. I wanted to wait for you to come home.’

‘But you have work tomorrow baby, don’t you?’

‘I don’t. Tomorrow is a Sunday, remember?’

Then it dawns on him why you were awake till so late.

‘I’m going to take a shower, my love. I’ll be done in 15 minutes and then we can sleep together, yeah?’, he says as he pecks your forehead and moves towards the bathroom.

Around 10 minutes later he sees you on the bed watching something on your phone again.

As he plops down on his side of the bed he asks, ‘What are you watching baby?’

You turn the phone towards him so he could watch too.

‘Remember the chocolate fudge cake that you liked from the cake shop that we went to? It’s a recipe video for that. I’m going to try and bake it tomorrow ‘cause I’ll be at home. I was gonna surprise you tomorrow but now you know.’, you say and look at him expectantly.

He is looking at you with the softest look on his face and before saying anything, he captures your lips in a kiss. A kiss that is slow and comforting just like his presence.

Once the kiss breaks, he says, ‘We’ll bake it together baby. I don’t have practice tomorrow.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

Both of you fall in a comfortable silence as you watch the video.

‘The bed was so cold without you.’, is the last thing you say before you doze off while cuddling him.

#seventeen x reader #idol mingyu x reader #mingyu fanfic #mingyu fluff #kim mingyu #mingyu x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen #fiction #mingyu imagines #honeyboylovee

253 notes · View notes

xiaq · 7 months

Note

if you don't mind me asking, how do you balance work and writing? i work two part time jobs and struggle to find the energy/time to focus on writing even when i really want to. any advice?

I honestly don't do a great job of balancing work, writing, social things, home things, fitness stuff, and then just...relaxation. I'm always on the edge of burnout. Every 2-3 months, I get to a place where I feel overwhelmed, I have a good cry, I let myself off the hook for everything except work for a day or two, and then when I've rallied a bit I start the whole process over again.

And the only reason this is somewhat sustainable is that my partner does all the cooking, laundry, and most of the daily home maintenance stuff like taking out trash, checking mail, shoveling the walk, etc. We split cleaning duties on weekends and dog-walking duties through the week.

Even with that help, I typically work from 7am-4pm, take a break to walk Deacon/listen to music/shift into writing mode, and then write from 5 till dinner, sometimes through dinner if I'm on a roll. The one day a week that I climb/work out I don't write. I also don't typically write on Saturdays since those are housework/errands/social time days. Sunday is usually devoted to writing and relaxing (hockey, reading, hiking). It's a lot, even with Sunday as a "recovery" day.

I will say that just setting aside time every day with no word-count expectation made a huge difference for me. Before, I was trying to hit a certain number of words a week and then feeling like a massive failure when I couldn't achieve that. Now, I just say I have to write for at least one hour every day (other than climbing day). It doesn't matter what I accomplish during that hour, I just have to sit with the document open. On bad brain days, sometimes that means I edit what I've already got. And sometimes, even on bad brain days, I tell myself, "hey, you don't really have to write, you just have to clean up the last chapter for the next hour, no biggie" but then I have an idea and I jot down a bit of dialogue and then, well I might as well write the connecting bits, and the next thing I know it's dinner time and I have, actually, written something new. Having that freedom from a daily word count expectation greatly increased my productivity. So shoutout to my therapist for suggesting it.

Ok this is getting long, but also please just remember that writing is work. Even if you enjoy it. Even if you want to do it. It's still requires emotional and intellectual labor. And if you're already working two other jobs, that's a whole lot of work. Of course you struggle to find the energy and time to write. Because there simply are not enough hours in the day and that's not your fault. You can't budget time you don't have. So be kind to yourself. Please.

#answered asks #writing #author things #the dream of course #is to someday only write #with no other job #oh but wouldn't that be lovely

75 notes · View notes

thetopichot · 2 months

Text

•° The Middle Ground °•

☆ Chapter III ☆

FUCKING FINALLY JESUS CHRIST I'VE DONE IT FUCK

Word Count: 1.5k words

Brand new day, brand new problems, many people say. As much as you would love life to be consistent instead of being hit with random sh*t every week, Today, however, was the day off for you. Sunday was very much known as the day of eternal rest. The 'Prepare for the unknown tomorrow'. Finn left as usual for his job at Talk Floral, & luckily for him as well, he was supposed to come home early.

So in the meantime, you laid in bed, sleeping in, because what's better than sleeping? You hear faintly the sound of the door being open and then being quickly shut soon after. 'Oh, sweet, he's home' as you expected him to be, & you remained still peaceful as you waited for him to enter his room with you, which was also quicker than you thought.

You heard the bedroom door open, & you heard Finn's frantic moving as you heard his phone playing. What can you make out as a voicemail? You sat up in bed as your ears slowly tried to make out the voice & the message that caused Finn to be so distressed. You squinted your eyes across the room to see Finn holding his phone in hand & his other hand looking around for clothes.

You could hear the sound of the clothes hangers being pushed back & forth so clearly, which helped you hear the final parts of the voicemail.

"He'll be at your florist shop before 11. So please prepare then."

Who? Oh, wait, I think you know who. About four days ago, Auron left you both a slick black card with a phone number on it. You both thought it would lead directly to him, but it was a company card or his company card, you assumed. If he can just fire someone before the holidays for simply doing something "incompetent," then he's probably one of those rich ass CEOs who has their head so far up their ass cracks.

You would be surprised if he wasn't, and he was just some brown-noser sucking up to his boss, but yeah, he wouldn't be that. Either way, you still wouldn't like him. At the same time, it makes you wonder: What does Finn even see in him that makes him a 'good guy'? All he does is berate him, or, technically speaking, all that you have seen.

It makes you wonder about something. Maybe it's something a bit more than Auron being a well-paying customer. The last time they spoke, Auron was pretty polite to Finn compared to you, as if he had known him for quite some time, besides paying him well. You didn't think too much about it; besides, they know each other and he's just a reoccurring customer.

However, the way that Finn acted when he asked the lady about having an outing with him? He was so nervous, almost like-

"Darling!" You snapped your head towards Finn, bringing yourself back to reality. "Are you alright, love?" Despite Finn being in a hurry, he still looked at you with gentleness & worry in his eyes.

"Oh, nothing, just thinking about things. Anyway, where are you heading to? I heard something over the phone about meeting someone."

"I'm not heading over just yet. I have to take a shower." You quirked an eyebrow.

"Babe. Didn't you already take a shower like 3 hours ago? Plus, you're not even that dirty from work either."

"You can never be too clean, you know!" Finn laughed nervously as he left to go wash himself off again. The interaction was a little strange between you two, but you didn't want to think much about it. He looks stressed already, and you didn't really want to pressure him into answering your questions.

He really thinks very highly of Auron if he gets him acting like that. However, there isn't much to be done besides sitting back, waiting until he comes from the social outing between them, & hoping for the best. As soon as you thought it would be, the sound of jingling keys in Finn's hand fills the room. He bends over the bed to kiss you, then leaves the house for you to be alone in the house again.

'I'll guess I'll ask when he gets home.'

Finn bounces his leg nervously as he sits on a bench nearby his shop. Thoughts rush back and forth within his head as if it were a race to see which one could be an actual possibility of happening. 'Do I look good? Why am I sweating so much? He's a friend! I've known him for awhile. Wait, why is my leg bouncing?'

Finn's thoughts paused as a black limo pulled up towards his shop. Onlookers from amongst the town square gaze upon the limo in awe as they assume a celebrity has come into town. Finn sees people slowly gathering themselves—not too close to the limo but enough to see from afar—& becomes more nervous. This barely ever happens when Auron comes by, but I guess you learn something a little new from Auron.

Finn catches a brief glimpse of a familiar redhead behind a tinted black window. The driver quickly runs to the other side to avoid the crowd forming behind him. The driver quickly opens the door for Finn.

"After you, sir." The driver spoke. Finn was quite surprised by the very fancy get-up, despite it just being a very casual outing & quite a modest town no less. Although, who could deny such a fancy gesture? Finn walks carefully yet quickly towards the limo, & a hand is extended towards him.

"Come here." Auron spoke to him as Finn held his hand & joined him in the limo. Finn sat on the comfy plush seat next to Auron. "There's no need to be nervous now."

"Thank you for helping me." Finn smiles. He takes a quick look around a limo. "However, you didn't really have to show up in a limo. Actually, I could've picked you up from your job & taken you there."

"I didn't really want to put you through any trouble. So consider this a gift."

"Well, either way, I'm happy you were able to join me on this little outing. I wasn't really expecting you to be here since you're a very busy man."

"My schedule was more open than I thought it would be, so I decided to maybe indulge myself in some peace." Auron silently commanded with his hands, signaling for him to drive.

"Well, I hope this can be somewhat peaceful! Tea is especially known for its soothing properties. I even make some myself as well!" Finn mentions. "When I was little, Hattie would tell me little by little every time I went over there some of her favorite tea recipes. Sometimes her baking recipes too, & I think... I still have some of her recipes still written down."

"She must mean a lot to you."

"She does," Finn says enthusiastically. "She's basically like a grandma to me. My actual grandma was busy since she lives way across town; I barely got to spend time with her. So, Hattie, well, I wouldn't say she was a replacement for my grandma. She was just more active. I wouldn't be the person that I am without her." Finn paused for a moment. "I had been considering selling some other goods besides flowers."

Auron's interest peaked. "Oh, & what would that be?"

"Maybe something like baked goods and teas! My partner always compliments me whenever I make them, & they suggested the idea awhile ago. I wasn't really too sure to pursue the idea since my shop is very dirty. Well, of course it's a florist shop; there's nothing you can do about having a dirty shop when you have a florist shop." Finn caught himself before he could go off topic. "Anyway, what I'm saying is that I want to maybe sell my goods. I'm not too sure when, but maybe sometime during the winter! My florist shop isn't really active in the winter, plus I can choose my own hours because I'm the owner!"

"The problem is if I'm able to do the baked goods, the teas, &... what-not, but the thing is, where? It was hard enough to even allow me to sell flowers." Finn thought.

"May I," Auron asked, "make an offer?" Finn tilted his head.

"Sure, what's your offer?"

"One of my, uh, good employees is holding a Christmas party for the office after work, & I overheard that he was looking for some assistance on 'getting some treats' for the occasion." He explained.

Finn stared at Auron with uncertainty. Auron cleared his throat. "I'm asking if you would like to sell at the party."

"Sorry, I didn't want to assume if it was what I thought it was." Finn chuckled.

"That's quite alright. It's better to be straightforward than to lead people astray." The car finally stops at Hattie's quaint tea shop. The driver quickly opens the car door on Auron's side.

"After you, gentlemen." Auron tilted his head, suggesting leaving the limousine. Finn nodded as Auron walked out from his side, and as before, he offered his hand towards Finn. Finn accepted his hand as he was carefully pulled out of the limo by Auron. The driver closed the door behind them and hopped in the car again.

"You are dismissed." Auron said to the driver, and the limo drove off. "Now, should we discuss more of the details inside?"

☆ミ Author's Notes Underneath 👇 ☆ミ

🩷 - Fucking FINALLY JESUS. Ya'll I'm sorry that this took so long to make. It's just things going on & writer's block slapping my ass n' shit. However, since my motivation is back, Chapter 4 should hopefully come along more quickly than this one which may include Auron & Darling fucking beefing again & maybe.. a surprise listener shows up?? 😗😗 Either way, I hope you guys enjoy this as always & have a lovely day.

#the cat speaks #yuurivoice #yuurivoice auron #auron yuurivoice #yuurivoice finn #finn yuurivoice #writing #the middle ground #middle ground #guys we're so back #mg darling #they hold hands #we're getting there

26 notes · View notes

winryrockbellwannabe · 4 months

Text

[25-31 may 2024] - no phone week 📵

Hello hello,

so, you may or may not have realized that I haven't post that much this last week. That's bc I've realized I've been spending a scary amount of time on my phone, and Im trying to reduce it in the most drastic way possible: deleting all apps from my phone

But, ofc, just switching to spending hours on my pc wouldn't be any better so i blocked some more distracting websites (i'm looking at you ao3), and got tumblr on the most agressive-towards-my-eyes theme possible so that I wouldn't be tempted to spend too much time in here.

This last week's screen time: saturday: 2h21 sunday: 4h04 monday: 2h20 tuesday: 3h50 wednesday: 5h53 - had a weakness moment and spent 3h10 on ao3 thursday: 3h35 (+ 4 hours on a video call, but I'm not counting that bc I was studying with a friend) friday: 3h30

So, what have I learned:

- First of all, I was originally low key unhappy about this, but then I realized my average screen time before this week was usually over 5 hours, which only happened once this week, so not that bad - this takes us to our second conclusion: I definitely spend too much time looking at this eletronic rectangle. And while I love it a lot for what it does for me - allows me to read about my blorbos, to talk to my friends and family, and a lot of other stuff, wasting regularly 5 hours on it is a bit too much for me personally

Where am I spending all this time?

- Shamefully, it's on ao3. Even on the lowest days, I spend at least half an hour in there. And while I love ao3, spending an average of over an hour and half on a daily basis during exams is a terrible terrible idea, but that is super hard for me to avoid. - The other problem is youtube. I am addicted to asmr to be able to fall asleep, but sometimes Im weak and I look at the screen during the video, and it makes me start reading or texting while I should be sleeping. And youtube shorts are also a problem.

Still, Im really happy with how productive I was this week and with my efforts to not spend that much time on my phone

Will definitely going to do more towards this during the next week, and I'll probably start posting daily again for accountability. And that's it, see you guyss <3

#studyblr #study blog #studyspo #stemblr #study blr #stem student #adhd studyblr #study goals #student life #college student

48 notes · View notes

urf1lterr · 1 year

Text

lovesick | pedro pascal [4]

"and on this night and in this light i think im falling, im falling for you."

previous chapter: [3] series masterlist

summary: in which a 1975-obsessed film student accidentally falls in love with an older man she can't have.

pairing: actor!pedro x intern!reader

genre: acting world!au, big age-gap!, strangers to friends- maybe lovers?? au | angst, mature, awkward, love- eventually

word count: 10.6k

status: in progress

author's note: so sorry for the long wait! but i tried making this chapter longggg. i typically have my days off altogether and the rest of the week booked with work/school. i try to post many chapters within my short timeframe (bc im booked af) so pls expect another update soon after this one! sadly, it takes me around 8-10 hours to write one bc its hard to think lol. also, i don't want this to be too long of a series and kinda wanna connect the dots- slowly but surely, ya know? not edited.

"So, he just came knocking on your door at 6am?" Joon questioned, taking a sip of his smoothie soon afterwards. "I can't even wake up that early."

"We had to do that everyday for our last job."

"I woke up ten minutes before I had to be out the door," he shrugged. "Men get ready fast."

"Anyway," you eyed him as he cluelessly did the same, confused as to why you wouldn't look away. "I don't remember him coming."

"Yeah, because you fucking freaked out and hallucinated over Lady Gaga," Jules exclaimed, you automatically cringing just at the horrible memories you've recently faced with that damn cat.

Once she explained what had happened hours after you had woken up, you were disturbingly shocked.

And the fact that your sleepiness was to blame had you going insane- imagine all the other odd things you may had committed while under the covers.

But you will admit you did remember some of that night's events clearly, again like you practically making out with Lady Gaga- although she was the one who licked your face endlessly first.

Mortified just by the thoughts, you will never be able to face Pedro again sanely.

How could you when you recently dreamed about a man 25 years older being intimate with you- that's...confusing. And the worst part of it all was you couldn't say anything to anyone with the fear of being judged or laughed at- maybe both.

The thing was you couldn't quite understand why you had to dream about that. Maybe your time of the month was coming and your hormones targeted the first guy you had nonstop contact with?

No, that would've been Joon.

Attraction may had played a part but Joon definitely had that, Pedro as well but a little different...age-wise at least. There's no way you felt allured for men with bad jokes and rough skin- no offense. Right?

He did text you that same morning he dropped by and commented on how creepy you are half asleep and whether or not you agreed to his 'business' proposal. Not trying to start a conversation you knew you couldn't finish, out of second-hand shame, you just replied a simple:

LOL but busy with school atm to make a final decision- tell ya later

That later still hasn't arrived.

Unfortunately, you forgot to ask him why he made a random visit that morning- but you weren't going to ask him days later. In your mind, you need to avoid him. There's no way you'd be able to act normal after have unholy fascinations about him.

Not that it'll be a problem, you two hadn't seen each other for weeks before your cafe encounter, you're sure you can do it again without him noticing your distance.

It's been about two days since then which meant you didn't have to prioritize so much of your time on homework, you'll just save that for Sunday when it's all due.

"Did you bother to ask him why?" Jules added, turning to you. "He obviously wasn't coming to see me- I barely know the guy."

"You do know him!" you argue as she rolls her eyes. "You literally got mad at me for not recognizing him the first time we met."

"He's a celebrity- everybody knows him," she defends before tilting her head in curiosity. "But you two are oddly close, it's kind of weird."

"No," you shake your head, trying to laugh off her suspicions. "We are casual friends who fan girl over the same things."

People did take notice how close Pedro and you were but it wasn't anybody's fault you two had so much in common. Both of you loved Starbucks, going on hikes- when you weren't lazy, and believe Matt Healy is extremely attractive.

If they have a problem with that they can sue you.

"I see it," Joon adds, jumping up a bit. "Him and I barely talk and we're men- we should be bonding easily!"

"You're...you," Jules cringes, making Joon glare in return. "I can understand why he chooses not to be close to you."

Laughing, you watch as Joon quickly flips her the finger before he continues on with the conversation. "I just feel like he always comes around only to see you, it was pretty obvious since the first time he took us home."

Furrowing your eyebrows, you didn't understand what he meant by that. Pedro offered all three of you a ride home, not just you.

Already feeling done with this topic, you wanted to switch it before things started escalating and freaky theories started unfolding. They had every right to question your friendship, but you were starting to think they might be leading down a road where they may soon develop other impressions as to what your friendship might have been.

Why are you even thinking that? That's so inappropriate to imagine.

"You two are silly, he probably needed my advice on something or wanted to workout," you suggest, their faces showing they weren't fully convinced. "But anywho, did you call Yoongi yet?"

"I don't think that's a great idea," Joon declared, adjusting in your warm sofa. "He's not really a skating kind of guy."

Since it was Friday and you had no plans, you thought it would be a fun idea to be adventurous for once and do something you would never do on a regular basis.

Ice Skate.

Your friends were extremely down with the idea, but you needed a fourth person to make the group complete. Why not a skinny, impatient blonde man who would probably spend the whole night complaining about why this plan was awful?

Right now you could use some other grumpiness in your life.

"Just tell him to go," you beam back, clapping your hands in excitement as you'll soon be able to fall countless of times on the ice. "I'll buy him hot cocoa."

"You better do it or he'll never let that go," Joon states.

After hours of sitting around and blasting random music through your speakers, the three of you were ready to set off on your journey of locating the ice rink.

If it wasn't for Joon's constant whining to stop walking to take pictures of the scenery you probably would've arrived 15 minutes sooner than your actual arrival, but too bad your friend is a nature freak.

"You taking pictures of the pigeons better not be the reason why you're late," you heard Yoongi grumble as the three of you finally found him sitting on a bench near the entrance of the rink, staring directly at Joon who just scoffed.

"I'm sorry if my happiness bothers you," Joon snapped back as Yoongi just stood up from his seat and made his way to your trio.

Grabbing your ice skates wasn't too difficult as the long line seemed to flow by smoothly, but standing on them was a different story.

"I can't do this," you squeal as your hurriedly motion your arms around to find some balance. "I'm falling!"

Yoongi sent you a questionable look as he watched your poor attempts to stay still embarrassing. "We're not even on the ice yet."

Feeling a hand grab a hold on your shoulders and practically drag your feet towards the ice, you glance up to see Jules steadily directing you to face your fears.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

"Are you going to push her in?!" you hear Joon gasp a few feet behind you but you couldn't turn your head as you rather focused your attention on yanking yourself off of Jules.

"It was her idea so she'll be the one going in first."

"Ahh!" you screech, putting all your pressure on your feet to stop her hard pull. Spiraling your ankles in the most crucial ways, you start to lightly slap her arms off you as she continues to fight them off.

One thing about her was she's going to make sure to remind you that this was your idea.

Feeling an arm gently tug you off her grip, you landed on Yoongi's side as Jules whined in return, offended that he ruined her vicious plan. Respectfully, he kept you stable with an arm wrapped behind your middle back as you gripped his other one, fearful she might snatch you away again.

"Why would you do that?!"

"I don't think watching her fall face first on the hard ice would be a fun sight to see," he bluntly returned as Jules huffed. "The sight of blood gives me the ick."

"I was waiting for that moment all afternoon," Jules sighed, disappointed that she wouldn't be seeing you fall- yet.

Waiting for her to walk away to go on the ice, you see Joon follow her before you released your friend, relieved that she wouldn't be partaking in her scandalous scheme just yet.

"You do know how to skate, right?" Yoongi asked, his uncertain eyes on yours as you crazily wave your arms in front of him to rub off his questionable thoughts.

"Do I? Of course I do!" you argue, making your way towards the ice until you were two feet away from it. Putting your feet on the edge, you hesitate as you could feel the cold breeze wrap around you legs. "I'm gonna go now."

"Yippy," he states, waiting at your poor attempts to convince him.

Giving him a thumbs up, you clap your hands together to try to reassure yourself that you could do this, forgetting that he was right behind you secretly laughing.

Taking one final breath, you placed your right foot on top of the ice steadily, trying your best not to make any harsh movements, until you felt a hard jerk on your upper body, making you lose yourself in an instant.

"God, if you don't know how to skate why would you suggest it?" Yoongi grumbled, gliding both your bodies along the ice as he held tightly onto your arms. You were practically skating like a wet dog in front of him, begging with your eyes for him not to abandon you.

"I always wanted to try."

Sending you an annoyed look, you zipped your mouth as his arms were now securing you, closing any gaps there may have been and giving you the ride of your life.

Shutting your eyes harshly, you didn't dare to witness the environment around as you felt the icy wind slap your face the faster you two- or at least by Yoongi's swaying, got.

There were times where he did pretend to lose his balance, causing you to cry in horror and him immediately placing his hand over your mouth by how loud you weaped.

But other than that, you came to enjoy his help as your two other friends rudely abandoned you guys in order to practice their poor attempts of leaping across the rink.

"Okay," Yoongi started, releasing his left hand from your side and keeping you close with only his other. "Now you try on your own."

Fear creeping up in your face, you rapidly shake your head in disagreement and try catching his recent abandoned arm, which he denied. "I can't."

"Can't or won't?" he countered back making you silent.

He did have a point.

"C'mon, it's not that hard. If Joon could do it, you can."

"He's literally on the ground right now," you whine as Yoongi quickly averts his eyes in search of your tall friend, soon finding Joon clutching his knee in pain as Jules records on her phone.

"No."

Sighing, he continues to look around, trying to plan out an idea that would at least convince you to slide a few feet alone without his help until he smirked and met your eyes.

"What would Matt Healy do?"

Widening your eyes, you were taken back by his question.

Only Pedro used that line on you.

And for some reason it felt odd when Yoongi did the same. You shouldn't be bothered by his choice of words...but you were a little.

He wasn't him to be saying it.

"He wouldn't force me to do something I didn't want to do," you reply back, causing him to groan.

"I feel like you just want to be in my arms," he retorted with a grin, immediately making you revolt and fly out of his arms, your bottom hitting the ice hard. "Well that's one way to make you skate."

Feeling immediate pain on the back of your thighs, you just knew you were going to be bruised and swollen the next day. But hey, this technically counts for your workout for the week.

Awkwardly swaying your body around, you couldn't get up off the damn ice. You were sure you looked like a fish out of water by how crazy you were moving.

"Get on your knees," Yoongi commented, causing you to send him a death glare as he lifted his hands up in defense. "It helps you stand."

Or he could just grab your arms and help you himself.

Cautiously following his suggestion, you slowly pull your right leg up and place it firmly on the ice before slowly trying to do so with your left one. As you began to feel satisfied with the weight being supported, you felt your body finally working and lifting up off the ground before he poked your shoulder- making you fall again.

"I'm going to murder you!" you threaten as you stare at him on your back, whole body restlessly laying on the ground in misery as he cackles loudly.

He may have advantage on the ice, but oh man- once you regain your balance off it you were going to end that slender man's life.

"Isn't this just a sight to see," you heard someone exclaim before hands grab your arms and soon lift you back on your feet.

Moving your eyes to the ones in front of you, you burst out in smiles. "Bella! Nico!"

"I take this as my queue to leave,'" you hear Yoongi mumbles but you swiftly grab his arm from his close proximity and halt his plans.

He was not going to desert you now.

"What are you girls doing here?"

Not seeing them for a few weeks didn't make things awkward, but different. It was like catching up with old friends, even though you barely met them less than three months ago.

"Had nothing to do tonight so why not ice skate?" Nico giggled.

Bella examined you up and down before pointing at your head. "My god, your hair grew so long. Has it really been that long?"

Rolling your eyes, you were about to answer her before Yoongi cut in. "No, it's her fake extenstions."

Gasping, you turn your body to him and smack his shoulder as he smacks you back. One thing about him, he's all about equality. You touch him, he touches you- simple.

You don't see the way Nico and Bella exchange smirks to one another before Nico slides in front of you and pulls out her phone. "We should take a selfie! You know, for memories."

Laughing, you agree. You took some pictures with them but never really out of the work environment.

Uncomfortably standing still, Yoongi hastily moves to the side a bit, not wanting to intrude this moment you were having with your friends. He was a pretty sociable person, but only if they had things in common and he fairly knew them.

Yoongi didn't know these two young girls and he sure as hell didn't want to be the one being kicked out of this picture- so why not kick himself out first?

"Where are you going, we need your long arm to get us all in the frame!" Bella exclaimed, motioning Yoongi to move back as he sent her a flustered glance.

"I can just take it with the three of you."

"Nonsense!" Nico argued back, shaking her head as you giggled. "We don't leave people out."

Biting his bottom lip a bit, he scratches the back of his neck swiftly before increasing the speed of his skates to the girl, accepting her phone. "I suppose."

Fixing your posture, you stand behind your friend as he carefully raises his right arm up in the air, positioning the phone that was able to capture all four of you in the frame.

Pulling out the gummiest smile, you bursted out a gigantic grin after seeing the rare radiant expression Yoongi was giving. He was never one to show much emotion so finding him giving in for a picture amused you.

Taking the phone out of his hands, Bella examined the screen before chuckling. "Wow, you've got one adorable smile."

You could've sworn you saw Yoongi blush as he lowered his head while shaking off her compliment, trying to act natural but he wasn't fooling anyone.

He was shy.

Gasping at the sight in front of her, Nico pointed at the concession cart near one of the exits of the ice. "They have hot cocoa! We must get some."

Faking a groan, Bella allowed her friend to drag her away but not before sending you a pout to follow, which you were happy to do. You were freezing to death without even realizing it until you stopped your attempts to skate for the picture.

"I was promised a free cup," Yoongi stated as he was gliding behind you, softly pushing your back as you proceeded to do nothing but allow him to direct you to where your desired hot cocoa was.

Scoffing a little, you shush him as you reached the exit ramp. Jumping off, the two of you slowly waddled to Bella and Nico who were next in line.

"Wait," you start, pausing your footsteps which resulted in him almost falling after slamming to your side. "Shouldn't we ask Joon and Jules if they want one?"

Peeking over your shoulder, Yoongi looks back down to you. "Nah, don't wanna ruin their fun."

Following his recent glance, you could see Joon and Jules in front of one another, both holding hands as they try to catch a faster pace while twirling in big circles.

You were sure they were eventually going to knock a small child over soon.

"Next," you hear the worker call out, sitting behind his register waiting for your arrival.

Quickly walking up, you place your order as nothing else but the hot drinks seemed to interest you. The total came out to be the cost as what four drinks at your local cafe would be, but you shouldn't be surprised since this place was pretty popular to the public.

Pulling out his wallet so fast, you didn't have to process what Yoongi was doing until you caught the view of his credit card as he handed it over to the man in front of you.

"No-" you try intercepting what had just happened by giving your card to the worker who just shrugged as he had already paid for the drinks on Yoongi's card. "Why would you do that?"

"You're too slow," Yoongi bluntly said as he grabbed the two drinks and moved to the side so the next person in line could place their order.

"But it hadn't even been three seconds since he said the total before you handed him the card," you protest.

He handed you your cup, hoping it'll shut you up as he took a small sip from his own. "And?"

Is he being serious? "'And,'" you question as he continued to be unaware as to what you were getting at. "Since the beginning I vowed to buy you hot cocoa."

Yoongi laughed at how stubborn you were becoming. "Vowed? What a great word choice for this scenario, fiance."

Rolling your eyes at his teasing, you hated the fact he was avoiding your question. You knew he did it because he wanted to be a gentleman, but the problem was he didn't want to admit he was one.

Again, he was being shy.

"I see you are kind," you smirk as he gave you a disgusted glance. "Don't worry, I won't tell people you have a heart."

Before he could leave a snarky comeback, Nico and Bella came back in giggles as Yoongi retreated back to his natural state of looking lifeless. "Oh my gosh- we went to get napkins and I kid you not I may have poured my drink on the back of this poor little girl."

Lightly gasping, you widen your eyes as Yoongi confusingly replies back. "May have? You don't know if you did or not?"

Bella makes an accountable face, scrunching her nose in the process. "Okay, I did. But she's the one who ran into me!"

"Well, she was really small and you kind of didn't search your surroundings before kneeing her," Nico exposed, causing Yoongi and you to give each other a concerned look.

"You kneed her?!"

"Only in her side," Bella excused herself, sending Nico a betrayed look. "It wasn't like it was her stomach."

"It practically was...," Nico mumbled but became silent when her co-star eyed her hard.

Coughing uncomfortably, Yoongi caught everyone's attention as he tried to avert the conversation into something that wasn't as horrific as striking a child with hot cocoa and a knee. "We should probably hit the ice again soon before Jules and Joon find out we got these drinks without them."

"Jules is here?!" Bella beamed, searching around for her through the large gatherings of people on the ice. "I missed that crazy lady, she was the only one who would get my coffee order right."

"She told me she would threaten to get the baristas fired if they kept getting it wrong," Nico recalled, chewing her mouth a little. "That's why I stopped letting her take my orders."

Sighing, you looked up in the ceiling in disapproval as you could feel Yoongi laughing his ass off beside you. That was very Jules of her to do.

After another two hours of trying to figure out how to skate, and basically latching onto Yoongi the whole time as Bella and Nico were doing laps around you guys, you finally made it home.

To say you were exhausted would be an understatement- you were drained.

No, seriously. You hadn't worked out this much since Jules and you almost missed the subway two months ago and had to run three blocks to catch it on time.

That day was dreadful, but you were sure if you went to bed you were going to wake up lifeless like a worm.

"I call the shower first!" you hear Jules scream, running to her room in order to grab her belongings but you were faster and instantly made your way to the bathroom, locking the door before she could break in. "You bitch! How dare you steal it with my back turned!"

Grinning evilly to yourself, you wanted to get your night routines over with so you could hit the pillows quickly. Even after taking off all your makeup, taking a very steamy shower, and doing your nightly skin care routine, you were sure you could easily knock out sitting on the toilet if you had the chance.

We all have done it once in our lives.

Opening the door, the steam flows out smoothly as you face your very displeased roommate on the other side, glaring at you. "All yours," you smile, stepping to the side but she roughly pushes you in response, causing you to yelp as you manage to catch your balance midway.

Mental note, burn her eggs next breakfast.

Stepping into your room, you change into an oversized hoodie and sweats before throwing yourself under your covers in excitement.

The moment you've been waiting for all day: sleep.

Closing your eyes, you feel all your senses slowly drifting away from your body as relaxation crept up from all around. It was truly intoxicating how in trance you were.

But of course with your luck, nothing goes as planned- ever.

Wildly jumping up from the loud blaring of your phone, you cover your face in agony as the vibrations and noise cause pain throughout your entire body.

Who the hell was calling you at 10 o'clock at night? This should be illegal.

After taking a minute to control yourself, the ringing stopped. Good, now you won't have to make time to engage in a conversation. Quickly falling back down onto your pillows, it wasn't even ten seconds later before you feel your phone going off like crazy again.

With you eyes shut, you move your hands around your bed until you feel the cool object underneath your pillow. Lazily pressing any button, without batting one eye open, you move the phone to your ear before releasing a groggy, "What?"

"What a lovely way to greet somebody, kiddo."

You instantly freeze, automatically thinking about the vivid dream you had about him, then Lady Gaga, and felt a blush creeping in.

Slowly pulling the phone away, you let out a loud but fast scream before moving it back. How the hell are you going to begin a conversation without thinking about his lips on yours. "What do you want?"

Pausing for a second, you can hear him move around through his end. "Did you just scream?"

It's not like you didn't just dream about him kissing all over your body two nights ago.

"Did you just wake me up to ask me the obvious answer?"

Act like you don't care. Like you are perfectly fine.

He chuckles lightly and you can tell by his tone he was close to passing out too. "Somebody's cranky, is it past your bedtime?" Pedro teased.

You were definitely not in the mood to handle his ridicules at this hour, especially by how nervous he was slowly making you. What did he want?

"Yes," you simply reply before hitting the red button, ending the call and laying your head back on your pillow. Good, just end it before you make a bigger fool out of yourself.

It hadn't even been another ten seconds before your phone was ringing once again. Pulling it up to your face, you let out a huff. What a shocker, it was him again.

"You better have an insanely good reason as to why you chose to wake me up in the middle of my dream," you immediately say as you press the 'accept' button.

Hearing him laugh, you just know he has a sarcastic comment coming any second. "Wake you up? Honey, you're still living your dream talking to me."

Honey.

No, not another nickname for him to call you in future dreams.

Shaking that thought away, you rejected the idea of him being in any more dreams- you forbid it.

Loss at words for a second, you almost let your next words trip over one another before calmly gaining your composure at the incidental choice of your pet name.

"So funny," you reply back, trying your best to sound sane. "Pretty sure I was dreaming of a very shirtless Matt Healy playing 'Please Be Naked' to me."

Why the fuck would you slip that out.

"Are you trying to hint at something?" he smirks, making you press mute and hold your hand over your mouth to hold back the screams you feared would release.

Feeling like your soul was about to leave your body, you couldn't believe he just said that.

Actually, you couldn't believe you would even recommend that song. God, your sleepiness was messing with your mind.

Finding your energy once again, you unmute the call and try to seem unfazed by his last comment. "Yes, that I want to sleep. Goodbye now."

Before you could hit the red button again, you could hear him chanting over the phone to do the exact opposite. "Don't!"

Groaning, you clutch the phone harder in despair. "I am so tired. Don't do this to me, please. I am a girl who values her sleep!" you whine as you hear him continue his light giggles in the background. "If I don't sleep I will die, is this what you want. Are you trying to kill me?"

"I can reassure you I don't plan on keeping you up long," he explains. "And I wouldn't dare wish for your death."

Your heart fluttering, you glare at your chest. "Then what do you want?"

Moving his phone from one ear to the other, he lays in his bed while smiling at his ceiling. "You," he declares, making you widen your eyes as he shuffles around in his blanket. "Tomorrow, let's hang out."

Sitting up against your bed frame, you furrow your brow. "Hang out? For what?" There's no way you will be able to act normal for a long period of time, your weak-self can't do it.

Placing a hand over his chest, he lets out a light hiss in fake hurt by your comeback before continuing. "Can't I hang out with you by choice and not by a work schedule? Unless you're so disgusted by me." That's when he started his fake cries. "I'm so sorry I am not Matt Healy and can't do a great British accent."

Shaking your head, you try to intervene as his ugly cries become louder through the line. "That's not what I meant, stop being dramatic," you complain as he instantly stops while smiling widely. "Is there a specific reason why you want to hang out?"

Taking a deep breath, he fiddles with the fingers on his non-occupied hand. "Does there need to be a reason?"

You pause for a second. He's acting too kind for your liking and it's making you question what his intentions are. In this point of time, you're sure he's going to take that moment to convince you to work with him in Canada.

"With you there's always a reason."

Scoffing lightly, he grumbles. "I just want to go on a hike and need a hiking partner."

Oh hell no, you already did enough working out this evening. You were not about to do that again, that's for sure.

"Yeah, nooo," you exhale lowly. "I already did too much working out with my body if you know what I mean and-"

"I don't know what that means," he cuts you off.

"It means I am going to be sore for days so my body has no strength to walk for more than five minutes," you declare as he falls silent.

After a few seconds that felt like forever, he replies. "Fine," he blankly states. "Have a goodnight, sweetheart."

The warmth as blood began drawing to your face became present as you quickly reply with a simple "night" before ending the call. And for some reason you felt as if you couldn't breathe normally by the pounding on your chest.

What the hell was happening to you. Looking up at the ceiling, you silently pray you don't have a Lady Gaga 2.0 fiasco.

As you were questioning why your heart made you feel as if you were going under cardiac arrest the night before, your body was currently making you feel if you really needed to make that trip to the ER by how tender you were.

It also didn't help that Jules was the one waking you up at the crack of dawn, half asleep with her eye mask clinging onto her forehead.

"W-why are you-" you grumble, rubbing your eyes as you look at the alarm clock near your bedside. "-waking me up at 6:18am? It's Saturday."

She sent you a death glare for assuming she randomly wanted to wake you up for the fun of it as she was the one who was woken up first. "Someone's here for you."

Positioning your body upwards, you squint your eyes up at her. "What are you talking about?"

"Why don't you take a look for yourself," she gritted her teeth, swaying her head towards your door.

Slowly standing up, you make your way to it before sneaking a peak of the view of your living room. That's when you see a very annoying man you were sure you both agreed on the phone last night to not go hiking.

Luckily, he didn't notice your wandering eyes as his were glued to his phone, scrolling through his social media.

What was he doing here? You can't face him without thinking about his body wrapped around yours and his lips doing dangerous things.

Oh no, you truly were screwed.

Lightly shutting your door, you nervously turn back to your roommate who looks displeased. "I told him no."

"No means yes, I guess," she replies, snaking her arms around her body for warmth. "I'm going back to bed."

You could hear her walk out of your room as you frantically begin searching for something warm yet comfortable clothes to wear on this undesired hike. You knew if you tried backing out he would stay until you caved, he was very persistent to get what he wanted.

And what he wanted was for you to get your ass up and exercise.

You were also certain you heard Jules let out a "thanks for the invite" to him before hearing her bedroom door shut.

Running out of your room, you made sure not to look in his direction so he wouldn't see your morning appearance clearly- well he already has but why reveal yourself in this state again?

Quickly brushing your hair, teeth, and washing your face, you change into a baggy green sweatshirt and some black workout leggings before slipping on suited running shoes.

Try to act natural. Give him little attention so he won't speculate anything. You aren't into old men and did not vision him smooching you on your sofa.

"You are so buying me breakfast," you deadpan as you walked straight out of your door, not even daring to wait for him to follow.

Good, be straightforward.

Laughing to himself, Pedro promptly jumped off the couch and jogged after you once you shut the door on him and continued down the halls to the elevators.

Finally catching up, he barely made it through the elevator doors as they were closing to find you leaning against the corner, mad and tired. "Good morning to you, too."

You let out a small cry as you lay your head against the wall in pain from how frustratingly exhausted you were. If one cold breeze hit you outside you were sure you were going to burst into tears.

"Oh, come one," he walks over to you and nudged your shoulder to wake up some more. If he unexpectedly touched you again you were sure you were going to rip his arm off. "In a few minutes you'll be wide awake and fine."

"How dare you assume I'm going to be fine!" you whine, trying to hit his side but he manages to capture your arm and that's when you give up and allow your worn out body to fall on him.

He instantly wraps his arms around you as your head falls just beneath his chin, your eyes slowly closing and your thoughts drifting away as his warmth was making you drowsy.

You tried to stay focus, but your poor state was taking over and you suddenly weren't as anxious as you once were. Being sleepy really made your mind roam.

"Hey, now," he whispers and looks down to see you snuggling up against him. "You can't fall asleep on me. I do not want your security guards thinking I drugged you."

Tightening your arms on how lower sides, you ignore him as you feel yourself easing closer to dozing off by the constant beating of his heart. "Stop," you mumble, clutching your ears softly before positioning your head on the other side of his chest.

"What?" he curiously glances down at you.

"You heartbeat's annoying me," you lightly whine. "It's pounding against my ears."

Pedro was extremely glad you were too tired to process his heartbeat and the bright red tint plastered across his face. Your drained-self definitely saved him from embarrassment.

Finally, the elevator doors opened and you still weren't moving. You were too comfortable to make any effort to walk on your own and if he really wanted you to hang out this morning then he was going to have to find a way to make you move.

And to him, dragging you was his best option yet. But with care.

Delicately keeping his arms secured around you, he gradually walked out with you still engulfed by him, eyes shut and only moving your feet with his pace.

Honestly, you were surprised how much rhythm you had.

Stopping to pull out his car keys, he unlocked his car and opened his passenger side door once you two reached the garage complex. Gently, laying you on the seat, you station you head against the headrest as he buckled you in. "God, I really hope security doesn't report me."

And once he made it to his side and hopped in, he laughed at the state you were in, head instantly bent to your side and legs tangled together in hope to create some kind of warmth. "Adorable."

But of course you were too dumb to not catch that.

You were awoken by a small speed bump and the instant hit of warmth through the heat vents, your eyes slowly glancing around your surroundings. Taking a quick peep at the screen indicating the time, you read that it was almost 7am.

Tilting your head and leaning against the headrest, you lazily stare at Pedro as he continues to drive to god knows where.

"Don't I look so handsome in the morning?" he jokes before meeting your eyes, sending you a warm grin.

And handsome on top of you.

Shutting your eyes tightly, you beg your imagination to please shut the fuck up.

"You mean drastic," you mutter, moving your head to the opposite side, against the window to force some sleep again.

Better to make time fly by faster knocking out where you were sure you wouldn't say anything stupid.

"Hey, no..." he whines, moving his right arm across to shake your chin softly to keep you conscious. "Don't pass out on me again, I'm lonely."

"And I'm tired, deal with it."

Shuffling in his seat, he looks over to see you curling yourself up in a ball with your legs to your knees and arms wrapped around. Not thinking things throughly, he hits the brakes hard for a split second and watches as your body jolts forward before swinging back against his seat.

"What the fuck!" you shriek, propping your body up and facing him in pure rage. "Are you trying to irritate me?!"

"I'm lonely and you're not helping," Pedro calmly states, shrugging as you continue your daggers his way.

You were beyond pissed. How could he think you would be energetic and talkative right now? How could he attempt to make you fly out the window? You could feel your nerves slowly fading away by the fury growing inside you.

If he wanted you awake then fine, you were going to be awake.

Doesn't mean you had to talk though.

Silently sitting up, you stare at the windshield in front of you and watch the cars drive as he continues to spare you a glance every once in a while.

Honestly, your silence was terrifying the fuck out of him. Normally, you would have some snarky comeback or violent punch to return to his evil tactics, but you were doing nothing.

Literally nothing.

And he knows damn well the sights of trees and cars did not interest you.

"Hey...," you feel Pedro lightly poke your side, pursing his lips once he saw your non-existent reaction. "You're not mad, right?"

Ignoring him, you continue your deep stare now onto more trees as you two were getting closer to nature than streets. You must've been out for some time as you barely noticed how far away from the city you really were.

Joon would really love this.

Gradually lifting his arm up, his places it on top of your own and gives it a small squeeze while laying it there. "C'mon, don't ignore me."

As if that would make you stop your scheme.

Blinking slowly, you acted like you paid no attention to his puppy dog pleads as the car was making its way towards an almost empty parking lot, all surrounded by a forest that only had one route starting within an old wooden bridge.

Pulling up to a nearby parking spot, Pedro parked the car before turning back to try and capture your attention but nothing was working.

You were so damn frustrating, it was infuriating. But he was still desperate to gain your attention.

"Are you just going to sit in here all day or what?" he questions as he waves a hand over your face to make you blink.

You didn't and that kind of frightened him. Work of the devil.

"I am going to cry," he warned, swatting his hand over his face to prepare for his fake tears.

Yet you showed no mercy. Sitting there patiently, you inhaled and exhaled softly, causing him to internally flip the fuck out because why were you being so aggravating when the two of you should be walking and pointing out the squirrels fighting over nuts.

And sadly, he was slowly giving up.

"Imagine if I really was crying," he began, offended you did not care one bit. "Really means a lot how unconcerned you are."

But when you suddenly started examining your nails and carefully picking at them is when he totally lost it.

Reaching over to you and moving his arm down your arm, he swiftly intertwined your fingers with his before moving you posture to face him.

His hand was huge.

"No, no-" he started, pulling a face as you gave him a blank stare back. Act natural. Pulling your shared hands in front of his chest, he sulks. "-please, for the love of whichever god you believe in, or if you're an atheist- for the love of you, please talk to me."

Watching him beg for forgiveness has always been funny in the past, but his pleading for attention now makes you feel bad.

"If you talk to me I will buy you breakfast and a very delicious milkshake that will make you extremely happy for the rest of the day," he continues, using his free left arm to wrap around you as his right one still clutches onto your palm.

He's so warm.

Pursing your lips a bit, you send him a skeptical glance. "Oreo shake with a lot of whipped cream?"

He instantly nods, a smile breaking out. "Of course, anything you want."

You look at the car's steering wheel before averting your eyes back to his. "And a red cherry?"

"I'll buy you a full jar of cherries if it makes you happy," he declares.

"And fries?"

Agreeing, he lets out a quick nod again. "With extra seasoning."

Biting your lip, you proceed to think about other stuff you may want with your milkshake and fries. "A burger?"

"My goodness, woman" he sighs, letting go of you and jumping out of the car before running around to your side and opening your door. "I'll buy you the whole menu, now let's go!"

With that, he vigorously yet cautiously pulls you out of your seat and throws you over his shoulders.

"Oh no!" you squeal, trying to find something to hold on to as he begins his journey, walking towards the bridge to start the hike. Grabbing a hold of his neck, you try not to choke him as you place your arm around it.

If you were going down, you were sure you were going to break his neck in the process. At least it would be a learning lesson for him.

"If you drop me I am never talking to you again," you threaten as he continues down a path.

"Said that before and just did it half the car ride here," he begins, moving his shoulder to give you a little fright of your life. "Now I just found out that all I have to do is buy you food and you'll yap again."

Glaring, you choke him a little to which he chuckles. "Didn't know you were into that."

Speechless, you couldn't believe his words. What the hell was he on this morning?

"Put me down!" you exclaim, immediately moving your body so he would lose his balance. Once he did so, you scowl as he ruffles your hair, making it tangle around. "Hey!"

"Can you stop being negative for a few minutes and enjoy the environment?" he asks, pulling his arms up to twirl around. "Just take in that fresh air mother nature gifted us."

Scrunching your nose, you frown. "It smells like rotten eggs."

"Because of the ducks," he pointed out before patting his pockets. "Which we will be feeding with the bread I brought."

Examining his pocket, you shoot him a curious glance. "How big are your pockets?"

"Not important," he states, grabbing your arms and dragging you along with him down the long trail. "What's important is finishing this trail to feel accomplished."

Pouting, you allowed him to drag you along as you miserably dreaded the next few hours to come. The energy you had to give off just for some damn breakfast.

Shame on you for loving food so much.

Encountering many frogs, lizards, and pigeons who loved flying right by both of your heads and scaring you to death, you had long forgotten about how anxious you were being around him. Being distracted constantly had you occupied which was a relief.

Eventually, you two finally found the drugs.

Or the ducks.

Walking by a huge pond, there were numerous amounts of ducks leaping around with their families following behind. It was really cute, but the smell wasn't.

"I wonder if they can choke on this?" Pedro muttered as he pulled out a large bread. Slowly nearing one medium-seized one in caution, he rips a piece apart and throws it. "It is kind of thick."

Taking a moment to check the bread out, you sigh. "Are you feeding these ducks bolillo bread?"

He pauses, not sure why you would care to ask. "Yes and?"

"They have thick crusts!" you exclaim. "And why not just feed them normal wheat bread?"

"Who even eats wheat? It's bland." he protests. "Plus, this is leftovers from my dinner last night."

"They're ducks! They don't care," you argue as he shakes his head.

"Just imagine if you were a duck," he began, making you huff in annoyance as you just knew he was going to say something ridiculous. "Wouldn't you love to eat this nice bolillo bread, maybe visualize a torta with some carnitas, onions, avocado, can't forget the refried bean-"

"The duck is choking!" you squeal and stare in fear as the poor duck starts to wheeze sharply.

Pedro's facial expressions drops as he sees the poor duck quacking in agony. Nervously rushing to its side, he looks up at you. "Do we pat its back? CPR? Call 911?!"

Pulling out your phone, you type away to find answers for your current problem. It was indeed true that you aren't supposed to feed ducks bread.

Especially thick Mexican ones.

"Give it mouth to mouth if you want chlamydia," you read aloud, causing Pedro to instantly leap away from the duck as it hastily begins to lay on the ground. "Wait, you get that from birds, not ducks. Silly me."

"Ducks are birds," he discloses, trying his best to softly pat the ducks back, finally giving it one powerful swat to help but instead the duck ends ups being thrown a few feet away by his force.

"Do I look like a fucking duck doctor?" you spit out, making him look up confused.

"You mean a veterarian."

Ignoring his last comment, you continue scrolling through more of google's suggestions, finally finding some information that may help. "You need to press down on its chest with 1-2 fingers or just give them water to drown it down."

Immediately grabbing the duck and placing it on its back, you worriedly watch over the duck from Pedro's shoulder as he works his fingers on the poor animal.

However, no luck was given as the duck was beginning to look weak and drowsy as pressure kept being projected on its chest. "We need water!"

Running towards the pond, you motion for Pedro to follow along with the duck as you look for a safe ramp to lead the duck onto. "Let's just lay him down near the water and splash him with it."

"He?" Pedro asks, stopping his movements. "But it looks like a she-"

"We are not arguing over its gender when its literally dying in your arms!" you exclaim, causing him to quickly nod and follow the ramp you found towards the water.

Gently, Pedro lowered his arms near the water with the poor duck taking over his hands. Trying to move the flow of water towards its face, he calls you over. "He's not accepting it, you need to scoop some up in your hand and pour it over his beak."

Rapidly nodding, you do as he says and take a handful and try not to spill it before gradually pouring it over the duck's beak. This water was not clean, but at least it was something. Nothing was happening until your third scoop once the duck began to actually swallow some of the water slowly.

"I-I think it's working! We did it!" Pedro cheered, trying to give you a high-five, failing incredibly as he somehow managed to lose his grip and dump the poor duck hard in the pond. "Oh shit!"

Squatting down, you try to reach for the duck as its face was buried underneath the water before Pedro's body slams into yours, causing you to fall into the dirty, cold pond.

The feeling of thick, muddy water overtakes your body as you lose all sight of air. Quickly moving your arms up and down, you rise back to the surface to find Pedro with his hands over his mouth and his jaw dropped.

He knew he wasn't going to hear the end of it.

"Fuck," he nervously muttered to himself before reaching out for you. "I am so so so sorry, the leaf made me slip AH!-"

He couldn't finish his sentence as you yanked his arm down with you, pulling with almighty to get him to land in the pond. The weight of the water going down with his body diving harshly against it, you knew he was completely soaked.

And probably pissed, but its okay. It's what he deserves.

Waiting for him to come up, he finally did so in seconds looking very unhappy. It made you delighted.

"You did that on purpose!"

Scoffing, you splash him and watch as he gasps harder. "You do a lot of things on purpose."

Using both hands to release bigger waves, he splashes you back. "Don't splash me!"

Growling, you slap his chest as he clutches your wrist afterwards. "You're so lucky I forgot my phone at home."

Gasping, you feel one of his hands fly underwater. "I didn't!" You hold in your giggles as he shuffles frantically before moving his gaze back up. "Wait, I never removed it from my glove department. Be fortunate I forgot it because if you destroyed it I would've made you walk home."

Furrowing your brows, you push his shoulders and make him move back by the force of it. "You're the one who started it. We're gonna get duck chlamydia now!"

Rolling his eyes, he pushed you back, causing you to fall under the water. Once you caught your breath again you notice the way he glares at you. "That's not even a thing."

"Just another STD to add to your list," you jokingly mumble to yourself, sure he didn't catch it.

You were wrong, again.

Launching himself onto you, the two of you fall underwater as he shoves you body around in revenge. Swimming back up, you gasp for air while slapping his arms off you as he tried blocking all your attempts.

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he clings his face on your shoulder as he proceeds to try and bring you down under but somehow you manage to wrap your leg around his thigh, causing him to lose his strength and fall backwards with you on top of him.

He sure has one strong grip.

Now, not saying you were going to kill him. But this was your chance to kill him with no witnesses.

Well- besides the ducks, but they wouldn't quack a soul.

Regaining his energy, he lifts himself back up and holds you up, about to drag you under again before you crazily oppose while shaking your head, "Don't! We're gonna get sick!"

"That's not a very sincere apology," he tilts his head, his wet hair scattered across his face as he awaits your alibi.

Huffing, you fight back a rude remark. "Do you understand how much poop were swimming in right now? These ducks are probably laughing at us by how much they are quacking."

Swiftly looking around, the two of you check the surrounding ducks around who blankly stare back. The older looking ones hollering nonsense, probably making plans to kill you and Pedro.

"I bet their releasing their chlamydia right now," you cry, hiding your face in his shoulder as he bursts out laughing.

"I don't think that's how it works."

Glancing down on him, you're surprised by his strength. He's been holding you up by your waist for so long you're shocked he hasn't dropped you accidentally yet. "Let's not find out, let's get out."

"You're forgetting something," he smiles, staring innocently at you, knowing damn well you can't leave without his release. "And I wouldn't wait this one out because I am pretty sure I feel toads swimming near my feet."

Instantaneously, you clung onto him tighter in fear as you could imagine the feeling of something swarming around your body. It was like hundred of spiders crawling all over you, you needed to get out of here.

Pulling yourself back up, you place your hands on his shoulders as he impassively stares back at you, waiting. "Fine," you huff. "I'm sorry for claiming you had STD's before."

Pedro just stays there, not moving an inch as if he wants more. Groaning, you knew he wasn't going to give in so easy. "And I am sorry for stimulating the idea that you would get duck chlamydia," you apologize. "But you can get E. coli."

That didn't help as he just helplessly eyed you, not impressed with your poor excuses of your so-called apologies. What more did he want? You can't necessarily beg on your knees, you're in the water!

Whining, you knew you had to pull out your sincere face. You just knew your Oscar-worthy acting was about to award you freedom.

Softly, you move strands of hair stuck near his eyes away from his face and brush his hair back before quivering your lips and looking down upon him in sorrow.

He has really pretty eyes.

"I'm really sorry," you start as you push your face inside his neck and lock him inside your arms. "I know you don't have any infections, you don't even have visible rashes or sores to prove it."

Pedro finds your plead for forgiveness charming as you squeeze him tighter. He begins to release you until he hears the mutter of your "-that are visible."

"You couldn't hold it in for a few more seconds?!" he whined at how fast you went back to insulting him.

Sighing heavily, you slap a hand to your face. "It's hard!"

Suppressing a laugh, he unwrapped his arms around you and let you get back to the sidewalk. But once you were back on your feet, you looked down to find your body filled with random pieces of dirt, sticks, and grass. "Ew!"

"You're not sitting in my car," Pedro states, waving his head side to side to release some water from his ears.

"You're worse than me!"

"My car, my rules."

Frowning, you weren't sure if he was kidding or not. "Well, you almost committed first-degree-murder so if you don't want people to know you must be my personal servant."

His instant glare turned into confusion as he abruptly moved his attention back towards the pond. "Where did the duck go?"

Widening your eyes, you forgot that you had a helpless duck in your hands minutes ago before your splash attack with Pedro. Scanning your eyes from the sidewalks to the ramps to the pond, you noticed a duck floating nearby. "I think that's them."

Pointing at a duck with the closest familiar colors than the rest, you felt Pedro let out of sigh of relief. "Thank goodness, I would have felt extremely guilty if she would have died."

"It could be a he," you snap back.

He was about to protest but honestly, you were done for the day. You just wanted to take a long and hot shower and knock back out. Not only that, but you ruined your cute running shoes you gifted yourself months ago for your work out journey.

You never really wore them, but it's the thought that counts.

"We can get breakfast another day," you plead to which he didn't argue over because he really wanted to remove the unknown substances off his body asap.

He wouldn't admit it, but he was genuinely scared he may have gotten duck chlamydia .

"Okay, but no sleeping in the car," Pedro states as you exhale loudly. All this and you still weren't allowed to doze off, how cruel is life at the moment.

Walking back to the car would've went down smoothly if the two of you weren't given disturbed looks from strangers and your clothes weren't clinging uncomfortably to your bodies, especially your shoes.

Luckily, Pedro had towels in his trunk and set them down on the seats. "God, I am definitely going to need a deep cleaning after this."

Slipping inside, your hands find the heater and turn it on full blast. Not only was it freezing outside, but your drenched state made you feel like an icicle.

Setting off back to the road, your mind begins to wander back to the question that has been flooding your mind lately. Craning you neck towards his presence, you make out his comfort state. Cool, he's calm.

Here goes nothing.

"So," you start, awkwardly playing with your hands as you try to make direct eye-contact with him as he turns his head to you. "Why did you visit the other morning?"

Lifting a brow, he pulls a face. "Other morning?"

Biting the inside of the cheek, you try to sound composed. "Yeah, remember? You dropped by around 6am-"

"-and you thought I was Lady Gaga, slammed the door on my face, and went back to bed?" he finished, grinning while finding your eyes again. "You mean that day?"

"Well if you knew what I was talking about why make me recall those mortifying details?" you grumble, leaning back against your seat. "And I thought you were a cat."

"I figured, I always questioned why Jules would ramble on about buying Lady Gaga a new electric litter box until I connected the dots," he confessed making you let out a small chuckle.

Yeah, you clearly remember how upset Jules became when Lady Gaga neglected the expensive box.

"But if you're curious, it wasn't because I wanted to go hiking," he smiled, referring to the current day.

"Then why?"

He paused for a minute, checking his mirrors before switching lanes. "I'm not really sure."

Tilting your head a bit, you express curiosity as you glance back. "I don't understand?"

Laughing lowly, he slightly shook his head. "I did wake up real fucking early that day," he started. "Maybe around 4am? Which sucked because I must've gotten like 3-4 hours of sleep."

"So you decided to wake me up so I could feel your pain?"

"No," he stifled another chuckle. "To plant trees."

Squinting your eyes, you become very confused. What is he talking about? He noticed your puzzlement immediately. "You know, go early in the morning to different areas in the city and help dig and replace old trees to plant new ones."

This whole time you were flipping out, wondering why he randomly came early in the morning just to find out it was because he's a nature boy who wants to help out the community?

It was very sweet of him to be as helpful as he was, but you were a little disappointment it wasn't something more.

"That's why?" you ask and he nods. "And why no warning?"

"Well, I was going to call but I figured all that studying you had done the evening before may have knocked you out early," he confessed.

Yet he still made you wake up early today knowing damn well you were exhausted last night. Strange.

"Why me?" you giggle. "I'm not your typical nature girl, Joon would've been perfect for the job."

Shrugging, he leaned his elbow on his middle console. "I thought about asking him, but to be honest I didn't want to pay for any damages he may have caused."

That was a very accurate insight of what Joon really was, clumsy. The amount of times he accidentally dropped his coffee cups, tripped over wires backstage, and face-planted against glass doors would be too much to count on both your palms.

You're surprised he hasn't broken his back again- but still glad he hasn't. That would really suck.

"But have you thought things over yet?" Pedro glanced your way before looking back forward. "About Canada?"

Stiffing up a bit, you move your eyes to the dashboard. You weren't dreading this conversation, but you didn't want to talk about it.

This was a situation where it was a win but also a loss.

Win as in gaining incredible experience, loss that your parent's wouldn't be pleased, it was in a different country, and you'd be missing out on your social life for almost a year.

"Not really," you admit and sense from the corner of your eyes his shoulders fall. "Still indecisive, as always," you try joking to lighten the mood.

Sending over a tiny grin, he mirrors your same expression, doubtful. His face turns concentrated again, leaning closer to you before he shuts down again, ultimately rejecting whatever idea he had going on.

The rest of the drive back to your place went by fast. The two of you made little talk about each other's life and how school was going for you, but he already knew so much already from past encounters.

Pulling up to the red curb you loathe, you crack a scowl as he only returns a smirk at his doing. "I will personally send my property manager to you so she can threaten you."

"I do love threats," he beamed, watching as you reach for the handle before stopping you by his voice. "-but I had fun this morning, despite our little uh...catastrophe," he chuckled, looking down at his clothes.

"I totally agree," you grin. "Dirt just looks so good on me."

He sniggers lightly before slightly sobering up. "But seriously, think about the offer," he begins, nipping at his lip a bit, not trying to put too much pressure on you. "It'll be good for you, you know- your future."

Sighing, you nod. You knew where he was coming from since he's been doing this for so long, but you were still young and had a lot on your mind.

"I'll think about it," you smile, reaching for the door handle and swiftly getting out, missing the way his smile slowly vanishes.

Taking your usual step back, you send him a farewell wave but he does his habitual goodbyes as he gets out of his car and grins to you. "See you around." Laughing, you walk inside the doors and make your way to the elevators, his followed soft "beautiful" being muffled by the traffic on the streets.

It seemed like both of you were screwed.

taglist: @thesapphirequeen @floralsightings @wrathofcats @avengersheart @fafik7 @chimchimjiminie16 @adriennemichelle98

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #joel miller #tlou #tlou joel #pascalispunk #joel miller x reader #the last of us #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal fluff #pedropascaledit #fanfiction

378 notes · View notes

thai-drama-ao3-stats · 3 months

Text

Thai Drama Stats Special Edition:

The Great Archive Lockdown 🔒

Hi folks! In case you weren't aware, there are various scraping bots that trawl through AO3 and use the data for AI training, content mill sites, or other vaguely nefarious purposes. One site, "Fanfic Books", is essentially creating an unauthorized mirror of AO3. Here are some posts about it.

To combat this, many users have recently chosen to "Archive Lock" their fics.

What is Archive Locking?

An archive locked work, or "restricted" work, is only visible to users who are logged into AO3. This prevents anonymous users (and bots that aren't using login credentials) from reading your fic or finding your fic in searches. This doesn't block all scraping bots, but it should keep most of them out.

What does this have to do with fandom stats?

The AO3 scraping I do doesn't use login credentials, so I can't count archive locked fics. That's totally fine! I am in no way telling you to stop archive locking! Lock or unlock to your hearts content!

It does, however, mean that the data I pulled from my Thai Drama AO3 Trends Dashboard this week (July 1 - July 7, 2024) are looking especially strange.

Holy moly! We actually have negative growth. More fics were locked than posted, which is why the Net New is negative. I'd estimate that about 1% of all previously public Thai Drama fics were archive locked this week.

This matches trends on all of AO3. This week, the total number of publicly available fics actually decreased by 0.7% -- and that's including all the new fics being posted!

When did this happen?

The timing for both Thai Drama fandom and all of AO3 is pretty consistent.

For Thai Drama fandom, most of the locking happened on Friday, July 5, but there was also some locking on Sunday.

When we look at all of AO3, it seems like most of the mass-locking happened on July 5th as well, with additional locking happening all throughout the weekend.

Which Thai Drama fandoms were most affected?

When we look at sheer numbers, KinnPorsche, of course, has a lot of newly-locked fics. 3 Will Be Free, My Engineer, and Dark Blue Kiss were locked down a lot as well.

When we look at the top fandoms by negative growth, The Player saw almost all of its fics vanish overnight. 3 Will Be Free was cut neatly in half.

This data is cool I guess, but... so what?

If these numbers are accurate, it represents another sudden and massive shift towards archive locking on AO3.

According to @star-grazing's stats about archive locking in December 2022, the total number of archive locked works on AO3 increased by 70% in just a couple weeks after a reddit post went viral about AI bots scraping AO3 for machine learning material.

Those stats show that in December 2022, 5.79% of AO3 fics were archive locked. When I checked the numbers again today, 9.37% of all works were archive locked.

Using rough estimates, from the last few days of AO3 data, I'd say that the total number of archive locked works increased by 8% since last Thursday (7/4). And trends seem to indicate that the great lockdown is still going!

Anyway...

Thanks for sticking with me! This is a really fun time to be collecting AO3 stats :) If you have more questions, feel free to reach out. I also put some more details under the cut! Thanks y'all!

Are we sure it was archive locking, and not some other data issue?

Er, good question. It's my best guess, and I've tried to rule out other potentially culprits. The AO3 Fandom Trend Analysis Dashboard, which has data about all fandoms on AO3, doesn't seem to show anything amiss. Their data uses login credentials, meaning they can count archive locked fics.

I also went through several tags manually while logged in and logged out to compare numbers from this week to previous weeks. It doesn't seem like there was a mass deletion or retag that I could see.

I also used the "restricted:true" search operator to search for archive locked fics while logged in. A lot of those missing fics pop back up!

I absolutely welcome other theories though, if you think of one!

Is this still happening?

Seemingly yes, for Thai Dramas at least! When I checked the "All Thai Dramas" AO3 search this morning, the total number of Thai Drama fics had dropped below the 40K mark - lower than when I first started keeping track a month ago!

We probably have a lot more archive locking in our future!

How do I archive lock my own fics?

There's a really good tutorial over here.

Help! I don't have an AO3 account, so I can't read all these archive locked fics anymore.

Please message me! I have some spare invites.

Which fandoms are the most "locked down"?

I'm not sure, but there is a Fanlore article about Hockey RPF and the Fourth Wall which provides some comparison stats. Hockey fandom has traditionally been one of the most locked down fandoms; less than half of hockey rpf fics are publicly available.

You can also peruse this AO3 search to see all archive locked fics.

#fandom stats #ao3 psa #archive locking #restricted works #archive of our own #special edition #thai drama fanfic stats #i should probably try to figure out a way to count archive locked fics eventually but...#sigh... i would have to stop scraping with google sheets which took uhh #SOOO long to figure out #it's fine. such is the nature of data scraping

14 notes · View notes

karahalloway · 9 months

Text

Thanksgiving - Part 4

Fandom: TRR - (Un)Common Attraction universe

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series: Thanksgiving

Synopsis: Harper and Drake fly to Bozeman, MT to spend their first Thanksgiving together with Harper’s family.

Word count: 5,400

Warnings: E (swearing, fluff, religion, references to smut, aggro, violence no human casulaties)

A/N1: So, this installment was supposed to wrap up Thanksgiving night at the Gales', but (as per usual), it ended up running away from me, so there will be at least one more part (I know I said that last time as well, but I don't control these characters)

A/N2: Once again, apologies in advance for any errors or misinterpretations in relation to the American football. I sliced and diced the Broncos vs. Cowboys game together based on real life comments I transcribed from my husband over the course of a few games we watched together, so pretty much all of the reactions in the fic are genuine yes, hubby is a very opinionated spectator 😆

A/N3: This is also my second submission for @choicesholidays' 2023 Winter Holidays Prompt Event, and the prompt that this installment fits with is Week 1: I’m thankful for you and Week 3: This is definitely going to land me/you/us on the naughty list!

"Oh, look who decided to show up..." grouses Tyler as Drake and I descend the stairs.

"Sorry," I say, pulling my cardigan over my shoulders. "We—"

"Used up all the hot water?" my brother offers dryly. "And then some?"

Justin gives him a shove.

"What?" Tyler objects offendedly. "They were in there for almost two hours!"

"I pulled 36 rose thorns outta her," Drake tells him.

Tyler visibly blanches. "Shit."

"You okay, Harp?" asks Brody, stepping up to me.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I assure him with a wan smile. "Just —"

"Oh, honey!" cries Mom, flying out of the kitchen with outstretched arms. "That's terrible! Do you—?"

"Ouch!" I hiss as her concerned arms fly around me... pressing inevitably into my wounds.

"Oh! Sorry, sweetie!" she exclaims, yanking her hands back. "I didn't mean to hurt you! I just wanted to give you a hug!"

"Yeah, those are going to have to wait a while..." I mutter sourly, rubbing a particularly tender spot on my shoulder.

"Such rotten luck..." she bemoans with a sigh. "Especially on Thanksgiving!"

"Trust me, I know..." I assure her, glancing wryly at Drake. "It was definitely not part of the plan!"

He shakes his head with a smirk as he helps himself to the twelve-pack of Busch that Brody had already opened up.

"Do you need anything?" my mom presses. "Ice pack? Hot water bottle? Painkillers?"

"Something stronger?" quips Nana as she puts the finishing touches on the apple pies.

"I'm fine," I tell her. "Drake already loaded me up with Advil upstairs. They should be kicking in any minute."

"Let's get you fed, then," declares Dad, hoisting the steaming turkey out of the oven. "Everything should still be hot."

"Sorry for making you wait," I say as we all make our way to the dining table. "Anything we can do to help?"

"Nothing — apart from digging in!" he replies, placing the oversized bird into the middle of the table.

"Not before we say grace!" Nana reminds us imperiously, arriving as well after having loaded the pies into the oven.

Groans rise up from my brothers.

"Can't we just eat?" asks Tyler. "We'll miss the start of the game!"

Nana whips him with her kitchen towel. "Not on your life, buster! You may not go to church like you should on Sundays, but you can still take two minutes out of your day to think about something other than yourself! Especially on Thanksgiving!"

"I think about stuff!" Tyler objects, rubbing his arm.

"Like that pistol at the gun range?" smirks Brody. "Who's more likely to shoot you than date you?"

"No..." snips Tyler, looking studiously away.

"Suuuure," grins Justin, elbowing his brother meaningfully.

Tyler reddens further.

"I quite like the tradition," interjects Mom with a smile. "Helps remind us of all our little blessings in life. Like the fact that we have food on the table... A roof over our heads..." She reaches out to clasp my hand under the table. "Things to celebrate..."

I return her smile as I give her fingers a squeeze.

"Okay, fine," accedes Tyler. "But can we skip the hand-holding? I'd like to keep my fingers— Ow! The hell was that—!"

"Language!" warns Dad.

"We're doing this properly," decrees Nana, snapping the kitchen towel back onto her shoulder. "Without any goofing around!"

She offers her hands with a decisive note of finality.

Tyler stares at it for a long moment before taking it with a beleaguered sigh.

"Now your brother," she prompts.

Tyler holds his hand out grumpily.

Justin takes it with an equally crabby expression.

I hold my free hand out to Drake, who laces his fingers through mine with a warm smile as the rest of my family link up as well.

"Right," declares Nana. "Who wants to do the honours?"

Awkward silence descends on the table.

I heave a breath. Guess I'll just—

"I'll do it."

My head snaps to my left. "Really?"

Drake responds to my surprised outburst with a shrug. "Someone's gotta. Plus, like your mom said — we got things to celebrate."

My heart swells with emotion as I feel him run his thumb over the engagement ring sitting on my finger.

He meets my gaze with that molten mocha look that always gives me butterflies before turning back to the rest of the table.

My family's eyes swivel onto him expectantly.

Drake clears his throat. "I'd like to say thanks. To everyone at this table. Not just for inviting me to share Thanksgiving with y'all, but for welcoming me into your family. I know we didn't exactly meet under the best circumstances — the first, the second, or hell... even the third time!"

Chuckles rise up from around the table.

Tyler leans into Justin accusatorially. "How come he gets a free pass for cussing?"

Brody punts him under the table.

"So, I'm grateful for the trust you placed in me — continue to place in me — when it comes to your daughter... your sister... your granddaughter," Drake continues, meeting everyone's eyes in turn. "It goes without saying that she's smart, beautiful, got more grit than a gravel road, and obviously banged her head at some point—"

More chuckles float into the air.

"—because I still have no clue what the hell she's doing with me," he adds with a wry smirk, glancing over at me. "But I know that I love her, and will go to the ends of the Earth for her, come hell or high water. And I know we're not quite married yet, but I truly am grateful for every day, every minute, every second I get to spend with her, because life is too damn short, and I honestly don't deserve her."

I squeeze his hand as my vision becomes blurred with feeling.

"And I know that the past six months have been tough — for everyone at this table — but I don't regret the outcome. Because each hurdle, each hardship led to this little moment right here — all of us 'round this table, sharing a Thanksgiving meal together."

I feel my mouth curve into a small smile of agreement.

Drake takes a breath. "So thank you, Lord, for blessing us with this bounty — not just the food that we are about to eat, but the bonds of love and family that we get to share and strengthen each and every day. Amen."

There is more than one hoarse voice as my family reciprocates the traditional affirmation.

"Oh, Drake," croons Mom, wiping the heartfelt tears from her eyes. "That was beautiful!"

"Yeah, seriously," grunts Tyler 'round a sniffle. "What gives, man?"

"Are you actually crying?" asks Justin in bewilderment.

"No..." mutters Tyler, blinking rapidly. "Just... just got a stupid eyelash..."

"Uh-huh..." comments Brody... though Drake's speech must've touched him as well, because he sidelines his usual ribbing in order to reach up to flick a wayward drop of wetness out of the corner of his own eye.

"At least now you know how to do it for next year," declares Nana. Reaching across the table she adds, "That was lovely, dear. Thank you."

Drake accepts the gesture with a soft smile. "Just spoke from the heart, ma'am."

"As you should," she affirms wisely, settling back into her seat.

I lean into Drake with a wry smirk. "Now the rest of us will never measure up..."

"Not everything's a competition, Gale," he murmurs, lifting my hand to his lips to drop a kiss on my knuckles, his mocha eyes dancing.

I flick my foot against his as I stifle a snort.

"Yes, thank you, Drake," acknowledges Dad with a nod. "And now, for the main event."

Brody shunts the turkey closer to the edge of the table as Dad pushes himself up and reaches for the carving knife and meat fork.

"What piece do you want?" I ask Drake as my dad sets to work dissecting the steaming bird.

"Y'all take first dibs," he replies. "I'm easy."

"You sure?" I press. "There's usually a fight for the wings and the legs. So, if you want in on that, you'll need to jump on it."

"I'm good," he assures me. "You just pick what you want."

"Drake?" asks Dad, as if on cue. "Breast, wing, or leg?"

"Please don't say wing..." prays Tyler. "Please don't say wing..."

Brody elbows his brother in the side, eliciting an annoyed grunt.

"I'm good with anything," Drake replies.

"Nah, son," Dad insists. "You were kind enough to say grace, so you get first pick. So, what'll it be?"

Drake glances 'round the table like it's a high-stakes poker game.

My family eye him in turn, waiting for his decision.

Looking back up at my dad, he says, "Breast is good."

There is a collective exhale from my brothers.

"You sure?" Dad asks, repeating my own question from earlier. "There's plenty of—"

"I'm good," Drake confirms, holding his plate out.

"Okay," shrugs Dad, slicing a decent chunk of meat off. "Just don't be shy about seconds."

"Learnt my lesson yesterday," Drake assures him with a grin.

Knowing laughter bubbles up around the table.

"Harper?" asks Dad, turning to me.

"Hey!" objects Tyler. "Why is she next?"

"Because she's the only one of the four of you not living here anymore," Dad replies. "Which means she's a guest, and guests get first cut."

Tyler slumps back into his chair with a dejected huff. "Never gonna get any wings at this rate..."

"Leg for me, please, Dad," I say. "And a wing."

Tyler throws his hands up in the air. "See!"

Dad ignores him as he proceeds to dole out the request onto my plate.

"Thanks," I say, placing the food back in front of me.

"You're welcome, honey," Dad says with a smile before turning back to take orders from the rest of the table.

I reach for my fork and knife.

Drake leans in again. "Shouldn't we—?"

He goes mute as I dump half the turkey leg onto his plate. "Here."

His eyes snap up to mine. "Gale, I said I—"

"You can thank me later," I tell him, giving him the wing as well while nabbing some breast from him in exchange.

Drake stares at his plate for a moment before reaching over to give my knee a squeeze.

I pat his hand under the table.

I know he'd been trying to be polite, opting for his third choice instead of his first or second, so he wouldn't cause any upset. But I also know that he loves wings — I mean, who doesn't? — and the darker meat always tastes juicer than the white. So, I'm not going to let his Southern sensibilities cheat him out of genuinely being able to enjoy his Thanksgiving meal. Especially after everything he's done for us today — fixing the oven, prepping the food, and spending thirty minutes with a needle and tweezers plucking thorns out of me with infinite patience and precision.

"Help yourselves," Mom urges, shoving the mash towards us. "You know you don't have to stand on ceremony with us."

"Thanks, Mom," I say, taking the dish from her.

While the various sides and garnishes get passed around, Dad finishes carving up the turkey, and we settle into easy conversation in front of loaded plates.

"So, I hear you're flying down to Texas tomorrow?" Nana asks as she spears an asparagus.

"That's right, ma'am," nods Drake, swallowing down the bite he's just taken. "Need to make a quick detour for my Aunt Lee."

"She forgot something?" queries Nana.

"No," I correct 'round a mouthful of mash. "We need to get her."

"She's never flown before," Drake clarifies. "Or been out of the country. But my sister wants her to come to the wedding, so..."

"We're her VIP escort," I finish wryly.

"VIP or not," notes my Mom, "I'm sure she'll appreciate the company. Airports can be very bewildering!"

"You just need to follow the signs," I say.

"Hey," interjects Tyler, jabbing a forkful of turkey at Mom. "You're talking to the parent who got lost in Costco."

"They put the petunias in the wrong place!" objects Mom.

"You mean outside...?" deadpans Justin.

Mom huffs wearily in reply.

"Have you decided where the two of you want to get hitched?" asks Dad, strategically changing the subject.

"No," I admit. "We've been so involved with Savannah and Bertrand's wedding that we haven't really had time to think about ours..."

"Well, I know it's nothing fancy, but you're more than welcome to have it here," he offers. "The yard's plenty big enough.. Or there's the church down the road, if you were thinking something more traditional..."

"Thanks, Dad," I say graciously. "We'll definitely—"

"And I can make the cake!" adds Mom with gusto. "With those little sugar flowers, and—"

"Stop trying to plan their wedding!" chides Nana. "They might want to get married in Texas! Or New York! Or Hawaii!"

"Well, like I said," I interject diplomatically. "We haven't quite decided..."

"But if not," accedes Dad, "you know we're more than happy to chip in. In whatever way you need."

"Including helping you elope," winks Justin.

Mom throws her bread roll at him. "Don't you dare! If I find out my one and only daughter got married without me, I'll... I'll..."

"Well, there goes Plan A..." mutters Drake as my mom heaves a shuddering breath.

"Told ya..." I whisper back with a grin.

He leans in closer. "Fine. But I expect you to make it up to me on the honeymoon."

I smack his arm.

His hot gaze bores into me. "You think I'm joking..."

Despite our earlier escapades in the shower, I feel the heat flare between my legs in response to the intensity in his eyes.

Especially as he adds in a low voice, "We'll be doing nothing but each other for two weeks, baby."

"Okay, enough wedding talk!" declares Tyler. "It's game time!"

"No, it's not!" objects Justin. "I'm still eating!"

"Well, eat faster then!" urges Brody, wiping the gravy from his plate. "The kickoff waits for no man!"

"What about dessert?" asks Mom. "Don't you want to—?"

"I think the pie will have to wait," I note dryly as my brothers push their chairs back.

"Drake?" she asks hopefully. "Do you want—?"

"Thanks, but J was right," he replies, leaning back in his chair. "I'm stuffed fuller than the poor bird sitting on the table."

"There's always room for dessert!" Nana counters. "Especially when your missus made it!"

"It wasn't just me," I tell her. "You helped too!"

"It's yours in all the ways that matter, dear," she insists with a proud smile. "I just helped you put it together."

"Well, if it's anything like the pancakes, I'm sure it'll be worth the wait," Drake assures her.

"Ha! Your boy's got more silver on his tongue than I have teeth in my mouth!" exclaims Nana. But I can tell that she's pleased with Drake's response.

"What about some apple pie moonshine?" asks Dad conspiratorially. "Got any room for that?"

Drake considers the offer. "I can be tempted..."

"Good," approves Dad with a grin, slapping Drake on the shoulder as he gets up. "I'll grab the bottle."

"Yo! Texas!" calls Tyler from the living room. "You comin', or what?"

"Go," I tell him. "I'll help with the clean up."

"You sure?" he asks, running his gaze over me concernedly.

"Yes," I assure him. "It's not like I broke an arm or anything."

His mouth twitches. "Opinions may vary...."

I give him a shove. "Want to rethink that prognosis, Doctor?"

He leans in to drop a kiss on my cheek with a chuckle. "Fine. But you better holler if you need help."

"I'll be fine," I tell him, turning my head to peck him on the lips. "I need to work all this food down somehow first, anyway."

His breath tickles my mouth. "Well, if you want suggestions..."

"Oh, my God!" I cry in exasperation, snacking his chest. "Just go already!"

"You sure they're not married already?" asks Nana prosaically. "They act like they've been together fifteen years!"

"Oh, not you too!" deplores Mom, dropping her head into her hands.

"What?" objects Nana. "It was just an observation!"

"Well, don't give them ideas!" exhorts Mom. "I'll walk at least one of my children down the aisle, if it's the last thing I do!"

My head snaps 'round. "Isn't that Dad's—?"

"He can have the first dance," declares Mom with a dismissive wave of her hand.

I stare at her in bewilderment.

"What did I do now?" queries Dad, reappearing with the jar of moonshine.

"Nothing!" Mom assures him with an angelic smile. "Just wedding talk!"

"More like wedding sabotage," mutters Nana around the rim of her gin and tonic.

"Umm..." is all I can manage as Drake tries and fails not to choke on his own snort of laughter.

"They're kicking off!" hollers Justin from the living room.

"Better excuse yourself quick, son," advises Dad, grabbing a pair of glasses out. "Otherwise you'll be stuck at this table for the rest of the night, wondering what possessed you to propose in the first place!"

"Robert!" exclaims Mom in outrage.

"Go," I urge Drake as my dad disappears into the living room. "We'll join you in a minute."

"Okay," he accedes. Turning back to the table, he adds, "Thank you for dinner. Y'all really went all out."

"Oh, you're welcome, sweetie," Mom tells him with a beaming smile. "But are you sure you had enough?"

"I'm sure," he assures her, patting his belly. "But I'll be back for some of that pie at halftime!"

"We'll keep it warm for you," Nana assures him.

"Appreciate it," Drake grins in reply.

"Oh, that reminds me!" Mom exclaims as Drake turns to follow my dad. "I should get the ice cream out of the freezer — let it warm up a little."

"I can do it," I offer, pushing my chair back. "Seeing as I did nothing earlier."

"Don't you want to watch as well?" asks Mom in surprise.

"With that much testosterone crammed into one room?" I quip. "I need some apple pie first!"

"Good thing we made two, then!" agrees Nana.

"I'll get some plates out," Mom declares, getting up as well.

Dispersing from the table, the three of us set about our designated tasks while the sounds of the game float through the house to the accompaniment of various exclamations coming from the sofa.

"Boom!" yells Drake. "That's how you sack!"

"What the shit, ref!" erupts Brody at the same time. "He was over first down!"

"Yeah, right!" scoffs Drake. "He was—"

"Shut up, Texas!" shouts Tyler. "Your opinion doesn't count!"

"Actually, he's right," steps in Justin. "He got pushed off before—"

"Whose side are you on?!" Brody and Tyler yell back.

"Sounds like an exciting game," observes Nana as she pulls the pies out of the oven.

"A little too exciting," I reply dryly, grabbing a spoon out for the ice cream.

"Oh, they're just having fun," Mom assures me, popping a bottle of caramel Bailey's open. "You know how boys get when they're together..."

"Yeah," I mutter. "That's what I'm worried about..."

The last thing I need right now, on top of everything else that's gone sideways today, is Drake and my brothers falling out over a stupid game when they've been getting along so well with each other. Especially when there is actually money — and pride — on the line.

Maybe this had been a bad idea...

Peeking 'round the corner, I catch sight of the guys on the sofa, eyes glued to the TV.

"Stop him!" urges Drake as the Broncos receiver makes a dash down the field. "Flatten the bastard!"

"Keep going, Patrick!" counters Brody.

"Sweet fuckin' Jesus!" groans Drake as the Cowboys defence finally manage to push the Denver player out of bounds. "How many of y'all do you need to stop a runner!"

"The whole team," laughs Dad from the other side of the room.

"Seriously?" objects Tyler. "You're not gonna call him out on the f-word?"

"Oh, just let it go, T!" groans Brody.

"Maybe if you learn to drink 'shine like a man, Dad'll give you a free pass too!" Justin tells his younger brother.

"I make no promises," comes the deadpan response.

I feel a smile quirk at my lips. Okay. Maybe it's not so bad.

Picking my plate and glass up, I make my way over to the sofa as well...

...and nearly spill everything onto the carpet as Drake erupts into a fit of rage just as I'm about to sit down next to him.

"What the hell, Diggs!" he bellows, throwing his hand out at the TV. "How could you let that go!"

Brody jumps up from the couch with a celebratory fist-pump as the Broncos’ offence snaps the ball out of the air and tumbles across the line. "Ha! In your face, Texas!"

"One job! One fuckin' job..." growls Drake under his breath as he stares daggers at the screen.

The Broncos quickly line up for their field goal, adding a one-point conversion to their score.

"How's the game going?" asks Mom, coming over with Nana to join us.

"Depends who you ask," I tell her dryly, spooning up a forkful of pie while Drake continues to fume next to me.

"Broncos are winning," Brody declares proudly.

"Not for long," Drake mutters as the Cowboys line up for their first snap.

Dak Prescott gets the ball and launches it down the field.

"Catch it, Lamb, catch it...!" urges Drake.

Yellow flags fly into the field as the ref's whistle blows.

"What the fuck?" comes the outraged exclamation from next to me. "There was nothing—!"

"Personal foul," advises Justin. "Cowboys offence."

Sure enough, one of the Dallas linemen gets called out for holding.

"Oh, fuck you, ref!" objects Drake as the slow-mo replay is shown. "That's a bullshit call!"

"Not really," counters Justin. "That Cowboy all but ripped Browning's jersey off!"

"It didn't interfere with the damn play!" insists Drake heatedly. "We're owed that yardage!"

"Not according to the refs," shrugs Brody.

"Putain de bordel de merde..." cusses Drake under his breath.

"Jesus!" exclaims Mom as the teams reset. "Things must really be bad if we're swearing in Spanish now!"

"It's French," I correct wearily.

The ball is snapped again and the Cowboys manage to gain some ground, despite stiff opposition from the Broncos’ defence.

"The fuck, Darby! That was an easy pass!" exclaims Drake as the Cowboys fumble the ball.

"Cowboys are choking!" sniggers Tyler gleefully. "It's what they do best!"

"Shut up!" snaps Drake in response.

I lay a comforting hand on his knee, but he's too engrossed in the game to notice...

...especially when the Broncos take advantage of the turnover to score another touchdown.

"That's why you don't tackle like that!" yells Drake, springing to his feet in a fit of rage as the ball crosses the end zone.

"Ha!" gloats Brody victoriously as the Broncos convert the down. "16-0 against the number one offence in the league! We'll have you beat by the third quarter, easy!"

"Fuck you, man..." Drake grits, downing the remainder of his moonshine angrily.

"Top up?" offers Dad.

"I'm not sure that's—"

But my feeble protest gets very viscerally overruled as Drake thrusts his glass out in front of me.

I sink back into the sofa. This is going to be a long game...

The rest of the first half ticks down, with Dallas managing to squeeze a touchdown in just before the whistle blows.

"Fucking finally...!" grumbles Drake as the game cuts to ads.

"Someone suck the juice out of Cowboys?" asks Nana. "They're all over the place tonight!"

"I thought they were supposed to be one of the top teams in the league," adds Mom, chewing thoughtfully on a bite of pie.

"Just... Just don't..." says Drake with a shake of his head as he flops back onto the couch.

"Who wants pie!" I ask, trying to lighten the mood a bit — and change the subject — before Drake has a total meltdown.

"I'm good," says Brody, reaching for another can of Busch instead.

Tyler and Justin shake their heads as well.

"Drake?" I ask hopefully.

He tips the remainder of his drink back by way of reply.

"All the more for me, then!" I declare with excessive chirpiness as I tramp back into the kitchen.

But if Drake picks up on my heavy dose of sarcasm, he doesn't react to it.

Arriving at the centre island, I reach for the serving spoon.

I know he got like this sometimes — way too engrossed and overtly involved. Especially when his team failed to live up to expectations and he was left watching helplessly from the sidelines.

Which grates on him all the more, given that he played for a college team during his first two years at the University of North Texas, and knows first-hand the difference between a good play and a bad one.

So, I can empathise with his outbursts. Even if I don't agree with them. Because, at the end of the day, it's just a stupid game played by a bunch of belligerent jocks who get paid way too much money to run up and down a field for a couple of hours.

And that's part of the reason why I never really caught the football bug despite growing up in a house with four brothers and a dad who live and breathe the game.

Dumping another serving of pie onto my plate, I dress it with a liberal dollop of ice cream before making my way back to the living room...

...but not before I grab a fresh glass from the cupboard as well.

Dropping my plate on the coffee table, I nab the bottle of moonshine and pour myself a couple of fingers. Because the way this game is going, Bailey’s isn’t really going to cut it.

"You're drinking too?" asks Tyler in bewilderment.

"You used to hate that stuff," adds Justin with wide eyes.

"Drake's a bad influence," I reply dryly, screwing the mason jar closed again.

"Has good taste, though!" quips Nana as she reaches for the amber-coloured liquor as well. "You really outdid yourself with this batch, Rob!"

Dad raises his own glass cordially in reply as the TSN commentators wrap up their predictions for the second half and the game resumes.

Downing my drink in one, grimace-inducing swig (Nana's right — it is good... just very strong), I take my seat again with some trepidation as the Broncos kick the ball across the field to the Cowboys.

As regardless of the outcome, beer cans and f-bombs are guaranteed to go flying as soon as the final whistle blows. It's just a question of who will be the perpetrator — Drake, or Brody.

"Run it! Run it! You're wide op—!" Drake emits a pained groan. "Oh, got the love of—!"

Brody claps his hands together in victory as the Bronco's defence tackles the Cowboys runner to the ground. "Suck it, Texas!"

"We still got possession," Drake reminds him as the Cowboys line up for a snap.

I continue to chip away at my pie in tense silence as Dak Prescott gets his hands on the ball and looks for a receiver.

"Throw it, dammit!" urges Drake. "You're gonna get—"

Prescott launches the ball at the last second before he gets sacked, but it goes wide, hitting the ground even though Lamb makes a desperate run for it.

"27 yards, man!" groans Drake. "How the fuck did you miss?"

"Broncos gonna win!" sing-songs Justin as he does a little shimmy on the couch. "Broncos gonna win!"

"Shut up!" snaps Drake.

Ten tense minutes later, Drake's mood only fouls further.

"What?!" he berates the screen as the ref denies the Cowboys some much-needed points. "What the hell do you mean 'he wasn't in control'! That was a goddamn touchdown!"

"Sucks to be you, Texas!" Brody chimes in gleefully as Dallas is forced to rerun the play.

Drake shoots daggers across the room even as the Cowboys fullback manages to throw himself over the top of the double line of blockers and land the ball in the end zone.

But the touchdown, and the subsequent field goal, seems to galvanise the Cowboys, especially since they know they're quickly running out of time to make up for all the points they conceded to the Broncos in the first half.

Possession switches to Denver, but the defensive coordinator must have been screaming at the linesmen while they had been sat on the bench, because the Broncos have to fight tooth and nail to make any headway down the field.

"58-yard field goal...?" asks Justin in disbelief as the Broncos’ kicker is brought on.

"He'll need more than a prayer to pull that off," agrees Tyler.

"He'll make it," Brody assures himself, hands clasped in front of his face in apparent prayer. "He'll make it."

Even McManus looks like he's seeking divine assistance as he prepares himself for the kick on the field.

The kicker's foot pulls back, and the ball goes sailing through the air. The Cowboys scramble to catch it...

...but the football sails decisively through the bars of the goal.

"Fuck yes!" screams Brody, shooting up from the couch with his arms in the air.

"I can't believe he made it..." gasps Mom.

"Boy's got some thighs on him," affirms Nana.

Tyler and Justin are staring at the screen in awe.

Even Drake looks moderately impressed.

The rest of the third quarter winds down, and after yet another ad break, the final fifteen minutes of game time rolls around.

"Now or nothing, guys," murmurs Drake fervently as the last quarter kicks off.

I finished my second helping of pie ages ago, so I have nothing left to keep me distracted from the almost choking anticipation in the room.

The teams battle it out on the screen as the clock ticks slowly down.

"Run it, run it!" yells Drake as the Broncos close off Prescott's options.

"He's behiiiiind you!" mocks Tyler 'round a pre-celebratory slice of apple pie.

"Oh, for the love of—!"

My eyes suddenly widen as I see the Dallas QB pull his arm back. "He's going for a Hail Mary!"

Drake rounds on me. "To who? There's no one fuck—!"

Prescott must've sensed the Broncos' linebacker bearing down on him because he launches the ball into the air at the last possible second. The football hurtles through the air as players scramble on both sides...

...and Cooper manages to snatch it from the air!

"Where the hell was that during the first half!" deplores Drake as Cooper lands on his feet and pegs it down the field, leaving the Broncos' defence to dust.

"Run, you piece of crap!" yells Brody at his team. "Run!"

But it's too little, too late, and Cooper somersaults the ball into the Denver end zone with a massive grin on his face as the crowd in the stadium goes ballistic.

"Fucking finally!" gripes Drake, slumping back into the couch in relief as the Cowboys gain their hard-fought six points.

"Not gonna help you, Texas," Justin reminds him. "You're 22 points down with two minutes to go."

"Two minutes is a long time, man," Drake counters as the Cowboys line up to attempt a two-point conversion.

And I don't blame them — they desperately need the points, even though it's a risky play.

"Not if we sack you first!" exults Brody as the Broncos take their revenge and the Cowboys' gamble backfires.

"Asshole!" cries Drake, shooting to his feet in anger. "Why the fuck did y—!"

Tyler's laughing on the floor. "Should've taken the kick, Texas!"

Something inside of Drake snaps. "Fils de pute!" he roars aiming a kick at the coffee table and sending it flying...

...right into the TV stand.

The 50’’ flatscreen teeters precariously, as if trying to decide its fate, before opting to crash unceremoniously to the floor.

Silence drops on the room as everyone stares at the carnage, the garbled sound of the TSN commentators' voices crackling feebly out of the busted speakers.

Even Nana is speechless.

Dad is the first to recover his faculties. "Well," he observes prosaically. "That's a new one..."

I finally manage to tear my gaze away from the scene of destruction to look up at Drake...

...only to find a blank space beside me.

"Dra—?"

Pissed-off footsteps echo down the foyer before the front door slams shut with a loud bang.

I heave a breath. "Great."

Thanksgiving continues in Part 5 - Coming Soon!

A/N: Before anyone asks, yes, I HC that Drake had a Christian — specifically Catholic — upbringing. Both his parents hail from areas where church attendance, Sunday school, baptisms, etc. would’ve been prevalent when they were growing up (Texas for Jackson and rural Cordonia for Bianca — if you recall, I switched their nationalities around for my rewrites), so it would make sense for the Walkers to have continued this tradition with their kids, especially when they were younger. I know a lot of people write Drake as an atheist (or even downright aversive to the concept of God and organised religion), and I can understand why people make this choice, but this is not the route that my Drake decided to take. And while in my fics he is not ‘actively’ religious (he doesn’t go to church, he’s not particularly insistent on having a church wedding, etc.), that religious upbringing is still part of his character (readers may have noticed this in some of the expressions and turns of phrase that he uses; the concept of prayer is also something that I’m planning to explore towards the end of (Less Than) Noble Intentions), so he would know, and not balk at the thought of, saying grace at the dinner table.

Permatags

@twinkleallnight @lovingchoices14 @kingliam2019 @petiteboheme @angelasscribbles @aussiegurl1234 @nestledonthaveone @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @tessa-liam @alyshak92 @secretaryunpaid @princessleac1 @walkerdrakewalker @tinkie1973 @twinkle-320 @knaussal @nikkis1983 @lunaseasblog @ficloverevie @indiana-jr @differenttyphoonwerewolf @kristinamae093 @eversoaringqueen12 @peonierose @3pawandme @alexabeta @veebug8 @fanfiction-she-wrote @queenmiarys @lancelotsimp @coco-lina-s @lolablackwrites @ivyflowers13 @persephone13 @hollygirl1269 @adri-ja-96 @harleybeaumont @katedrakeohd @uneravine @alj4890

Thanksgiving Only

@burnsoslow

#harper gale #drake walker #the royal romance #thanksgiving #choices holiday prompts #trr au fanfic

32 notes · View notes