#because wow look at this beautiful world full of history

[hermitshell]

There's something so deeply despondent about a server that was once populated but grows inactive overtime, like instead of the world feeling fuller for how much people have given to it, it instead feels more empty because people Were here and they Did leave their mark. So where are they now? In universe it's just a tragic kind of horror, seeing a world left abandoned. Knowing it is not empty because it's supposed to be or because it's finished but where it's still just clinging on with one or two people left yet deserted. Like walking the streets of an apocalyptic city.

[ellieluvr420]

Friends? Never. Pt.7 (Ellie Williams x reader)

SYNOPSIS: You and Ellie had been bitter enemies for years now but before that you were best friends. You had always planned to be roommates one day but when that becomes a reality the situation isn't exactly how you both imagined it.

SMUT mdni, brief mention of attempted SA, story-typical violence

It had been two weeks since Ellie had come back from patrol injured, Maria gave you leave so you could take care of her and it had been a nightmare for the full fourteen days, Ellie never once making life easy for you and proving herself to be the worst patient in all of history. Nevertheless, you still managed to get through it and today was your first day back on patrol. If you said you weren’t nervous you would be lying and if you said you were nervous solely because of the attack two weeks ago you would also be lying. You had been up all-night pacing and fretting about being away from Ellie for a whole day, you were so angry that in the space of two weeks you had become dependent on her company but there was nothing you could do to rationalise with yourself, so you paced, and you bit the skin around your nails raw and possibly pulled a couple clumps of hair out, you had yet to look in the mirror and assess the damage but when you walked into Ellie’s room where she was sitting eating breakfast, you knew it was bad. 

“Why do you look like that?” 

“Like what?” 

“Bad.” 

“Wow thanks.” 

“Oh come on you know what I mean.” As you sit on the bed and lean in to peck her lips, she holds your face close to hers to whisper: “You always look beautiful, but you don’t look well.” She kisses you once again and leans her forehead on yours as you smile bittersweetly at each other. 

Since your first kiss you had spent every second together, the little bubble surrounding you both was tinted pink and the second you walk out the front door for patrol you know the feeling will be ripped away from you. You had spent every night watching films, making dinner together once Ellie was mobile again and you had even started taking it in turns reading your book to each other. The new definition of your relationship was undecided but the air around you both was heavy with want. You had been holding yourself back because of Ellie’s condition and Ellie had been holding herself back because the irrational fear that she would somehow infect you if you had sex was at the forefront of her mind, sometimes she’d even hesitate to kiss you before remembering that it was okay. Things were calm and quiet, and you almost forgot the real world, almost. 

“I’m fine El, I just didn’t sleep much last night.” 

“Then you shouldn’t be going on patrol, you won’t be able to focus, tell Maria you can’t.” 

“Okay so I tell Maria I can’t patrol because I’m tired, how do you think she’ll react?” 

“... Okay fair enough but I don’t like it.” 

“You and me both.” You gaze at her face that had the last remnants of some green and brown bruises as well as the stitched cut across her freckled cheeks that was healing well as you cup her cheek. She takes your hand in hers and kisses at your knuckles before tightening her grip and holding your fingers for her to inspect. “Wait, No Ellie.” 

“I fucking knew it you liar, you’ve bitten them raw. Are they sore?” You snatch your hand away from her with a shameful look on your face as you avoid eye contact. 

“No they’re fine. And I’m fine, I gotta go though so I’ll see you later.” 

“What time will you be back?” 

“Five-ish.” You both go quiet as the memory of that day dawns on each of you, you watch as panic flashes across her face. “Hey, it’s going to be okay, there’s a big group of us going today and we’re sticking together. They managed to get us walkie’s somehow, so we’ll be able to stay in touch with each other and Jackson, okay?” 

“Okay.” She sighs and you kiss her check before walking to the door. “Be safe.” You look back at her and flash a solemn smile. 

“Always.” You keep walking without looking back again for fear that if you did you would never leave, so you don’t look back until you’re on Greg and riding out of Jackson to your first checkpoint. 

“Haven’t seen you in a while.” Lacey smiled at you. You were often on patrol with her, so you had become good friends. Her black curly hair was pulled up into a messy bun and her brown eyes sparkled with a hint of curiosity. Lacey was beautiful with her glowing deep-brown skin that only looked more heavenly in the sunlight that was beating down on you all. The first thing you noticed about her was her beauty but as you got to know her you found she was strong and kind. She was the first person you told about your sexuality and she was the first person after Maria that you told about your parents kicking you out.  

“Yeah, I got given leave because my roommate got really hurt in the attack the other week, so I was taking care of her.” 

“You were taking care of Ellie; I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that.” 

“How do you know I live with Ellie?” You had barely seen Lacey since moving in with Ellie because of everything that’s happened so you hadn’t had a chance to tell her, for a second you wondered if you would have told her even if you had seen her, but you push the thought away before you let it distract you. 

“Everyone knows.” 

“What?” 

“Oh come on, you two are sworn enemies and now you live together, everyone’s a little interested on what that’s like. So, fill me in, is she secretly buried in the backyard right now?” She grins at you playfully as you shake your head and chuckle. 

“Well, um, she’s not dead yet.” You choke out a small laugh and immediately feel consumed with guilt as Lacey laughs with you. You don’t know why you said that. What you wanted to say is it’s been the best thing that’s ever happened to you, but your mouth wasn’t connected to your brain. 

You had been to two out of four checkpoints and you were approaching your third now, a small holiday town with large cabins and a couple shops and bars, whenever you came here you always tried to imagine what it was like before the outbreak but your mind can never conjure up a picture and it frustrates you more each time. The actual checkpoint is one of the furthest cabins from the entrance to the town, so you check each building you pass on your way to it. There were seven of you today and each person seemed more on edge than the next but other than a couple stragglers you had been okay so far. You felt stupid for relaxing a little the second one of your men went down and bullets started raining down on your group. 

“FIND COVER NOW!” You scream to the rest of them and as you sprint past Finn lying dead on the floor something inside you flips and you’re no longer consciously acting, all your movements were controlled by the need to get back home to Ellie safely as you dived into the first cabin on your left. Immediately you pull your handgun out and check your pocket to catalogue how much ammo you had. You quickly but carefully check each room downstairs. If you had been calm and collected you would have went upstairs first knowing that you’re more likely to find someone there than downstairs, but you aren’t calm and collected, you’re panicked and running entirely on adrenaline. You hadn’t realised how easy it was for life to end, how quick, you had always pushed the thought of death away knowing it was all too possible in the hostile world you lived in, so you chose to stay ignorant to reality. You were content with your decision, until you hear the creak of a floorboard behind you. Without a second thought you spun round firing your gun twice, you watch as the figure that you had shot at dove towards you showing you his grisly face. You fire again but he’s too quick, slamming you down to the ground and climbing on top of you, pinning you down. You glance at your gun that had been hit out of your hand and was now sitting in the corner of the room, mocking you. He smiles like the cheshire cat as he runs a knife down your face before reaching for the walkie talkie he had attached to his hip. 

“Boys come to number 7, I’ve got a pretty one.” He speaks into the walkie talkie before turning his attention back to you. “I’m gonna enjoy this.” He begins reaching to unbuckle his belt and your body turns cold. 

Get home to Ellie. 

You lean up and smash your head into his and as he groans with a disoriented expression, you deliver a hard punch straight to his nose.  

Get home to Ellie. 

You push him off you and scramble away as quick as you can but his hand latches onto your ankle, you let him pull you closer and then kick him hard in the face which allows you to wriggle free again. 

Get home to Ellie. 

This time you manage to make it to your gun, immediately shooting him straight in the foot. He bellows out as he goes to the ground and you watch as you grab your walkie talkie. 

“Come to number 7, be discreet and be ready, there’s a group of them and they’re all coming here. I’ve got one already.” You walk over to the now writhing man and jam the gun into his stomach. “WHO ARE YOU?!” You screech out. His silence angers you more so you slam the base of your gun down onto his temple. “Start talking or I break your arm next.” 

“I’d like to see you try.” He chuckles and the arrogance sets something off inside you, in one swift motion you hold his right arm up, his dominant one you had noticed, and stomp down onto it until you hear a loud crack and see the creamy white of his bone poking through his upper arm. The scream he lets out is inhumane, but it was music to your ears. 

“You’ve got a minute or I break the other one too.” 

“FINE, fine, we spotted your town a couple days ago, we were gonna take you guys as hostages to make them trade us for supplies.” 

“Oh so you’re raider scum.” 

“We’re survivors just like you, you ain’t better than us just because you live in your fancy, cosy town.” 

“If you wanted supplies, you could’ve just approached the walls, we help anyone that needs it. That’s why we’re better than you.” As you finish speaking Lacey burst through the door dragging an unconscious man by his foot, she brings him to be in line with the man before you and drops his foot. The rest of your team follow, bringing in three more guys between them. “Two of you go find stuff to tie them up with.” You look back at your group that were waiting eagerly for what you next had to say. There was no leader in patrol groups, but they were listening to you like you were. 

“How did you find us?” You turn your attention back to the men sat before you, the conscious ones each exchange looks. You slam your boot-clad foot into one of the men brought in by your team. 

“Look at me. How did you find us?” 

“People talk, pretty town like yours, shit like that makes the rounds.” One of them pipes up. He’s clutching his side, and you notice the blood seeping from between his fingers, you walk over to him so you’re towering over his hunched form. 

“What people?” 

“Met a girl and her friends, said they’re looking for a guy who lives there but they don’t know where it is, only that it's in Wyoming. They’re on their way too but we move faster than most, we just wanted supplies.” 

“Did she say the name of the guy she’s looking for?” 

“Nope.” Your face turns dark as you raise your gun to his head and shoot him in a split second, the thump of him hitting the floor coincides with Lacey and Raphael coming back into the room with all the stuff they found. They all look at you as though you have two heads. 

“He was bleeding out, would’ve been deadweight.” They nod and start getting to work tying the rest up. They go to tie their feet, but you stop them. “We’re taking them with us. Maria’s gonna want to interrogate them about this. I’m gonna radio Maria and tell her we’re bringing back hostages. The rest of you watch them, they move you shoot but not to kill, got it?” They all nod, and you walk to the next room along to contact Maria. 

“We’re heading back now, we’re at Mountain Valley, we got ambushed by raiders and we’re getting ready to transport them now, they’re talking about a group that are on their way to Jackson looking for someone, figured you’d want to talk to them. We had one casualty, Finn, he went quick.” Your voice trembles but you take a deep breath to hold it together. 

“Okay, well done, he shouldn’t have died but six is better than none, don’t beat yourself up, it’s not your fault.” Her bluntness had always been refreshing but now it was causing bile to rise up your body, you push the feeling down and concentrate on replying. 

“I’ll see you at the gates.” You can’t acknowledge what Maria said, it doesn’t feel right, so you focus on getting the raiders ready to take back to Jackson. You all load them onto your horses, tying them to the reins and then climb onto your horses also. Lucas volunteered to take Finn on his horse so his family could say goodbye and he could be buried in Jackson. You, Ben, Mick and Lacey each have a raider on your horse, so you climb on behind them and jam your guns into their backs as a warning. The ride back to Jackson went by in a flash and before you know it, you’re approaching the slowly opening gates of home. 

Ellie was standing at the gates of Jackson, when she walked, or limped, over there it was 4 PM, she knew she’d likely be waiting for some time, but she couldn’t sit at home waiting for you to come back any longer. She finally understood your reaction to her coming home late because you weren’t even due back yet and her anxiety was the worst it had ever been. She figured waiting at the gates would be better than waiting at home but as she approached the gates and saw Maria standing there as well as a large group of guards, she felt uneasy. The atmosphere was calm but foreboding and she couldn’t understand why there were so many guards just standing and waiting. She walked over to Maria who looked stunned even before she was faced with Ellie who she wasn’t expecting to be out of bed let alone at the gates.  

“Maria, what’s going on?” 

“They got ambushed by raiders, the scumbags got Finn, but they managed to take them as hostages, they’re due to be back soon.” 

“Why are they bringing them back?” 

“She didn’t say.” 

“You spoke to her?” 

“Yes Ellie, she’s fine.” Ellie felt her cheeks flush at Maria’s obvious awareness of the situation between the both of you, but the thought is wiped from her mind when she hears yells to open the gates. She moves as quickly as she can towards the crowd of people, mimicking your movements two weeks prior, shoving and pushing past people to get to the front. She watches as you ride in on Greg with a man hunched over in front of you, she makes no attempt to move, just watching the scene play out before her. 

Two guards walk over to you as you climb off Greg and reach up to cut his ties to the reins with your knife before yanking him down where he lands on the ground with a thud and an ear-piercing screech. “You bitch.” She hears him spit out and she can’t contain the small chuckle that leaves her lips when you kick him once on the arm he was already clutching. He writhes and cries and as he turns, she sees the white of his bone protruding from his arm. She’s watching intently as she surveys the damage done to him until she notices your eyes on her. 

You weren’t expecting Ellie to be at the gate, especially not since you were early but the sight of her standing there staring back at you releases all the tension in your body. You were home, with Ellie, everything would be okay. You go to start walking over to her but Maria steps in your way putting a hand on your shoulder. “I need to speak with you.” 

“Wait- Can I-” 

“Now. Let’s go.” She pulls you by your arm and as you catch a glimpse of Ellie over your shoulder you mouth ‘I’m sorry’ at her before letting Maria yank you away from the crowd. 

Ellie watched Maria dragging you away and her guard immediately went back up again as she subtly started to follow you both. You walk round a corner, out of sight, and she darts to the edge of the building that would shield her from yours and Maria’s sight as she focuses on trying to listen to your conversation while wincing from the sudden movement. 

“Not a word of this to anyone. Seriously, not Ellie, no one.” 

“Alright I got it. Are you worried?” 

“I haven’t decided yet.” 

“Who do you think they’re looking for?” 

“I don’t know, do you think they’re not letting on everything they know?” 

“Maybe, I’m not sure.” 

“Well we’ll find out won’t we.” Ellie panicked as she heard footsteps coming her way, she once again darts round the other corner of the building so she’s out of sight of whoever is about to walk past and as she watches Maria storm away she creeps back round the building until she’s met with you, standing staring at the floor as you bit at the skin around your nails. 

“Are you okay?” You jump but relax as you see it’s Ellie approaching you. 

“Yeah, hi, I’m okay.” She pulls you into a hug that neither of you feel ready to leave so she speaks into your shoulder. 

“What the fuck happened?” 

“Fucking raiders.” Your voice is muffled by her chest but she can understand you fine.  

“Sorry about Finn. You know it’s not your fault right?” 

“Yeah I know.” You were lying but it was easier to lie than have this conversation right now. 

“Why’d you bring them back?” 

“Thought Maria should decide what to do with them.” You both know you’re lying but she leaves it for the moment. 

“Come on, let’s go home.” 

“I actually had a better idea.” You pull away from her with a cheeky smirk as she cocks an eyebrow at your tone. 

You’re sat in a booth with Ellie at the Tipsy Bison nursing your fifth drink of the night, you had been there for an hour and a half. You recognise the first few notes of one of your favourite songs: ecstasy by the crooked stills, and you gasp before jumping up and standing in front of Ellie. “We have to dance to this.” 

“I’m good.” 

“That wasn’t a question.” You grab her hand and gently but firmly pull her up and onto the dancefloor with you. Despite her reluctance her hands immediately find their place at your waist, sqeezing a little, as you begin to sway to the slow song together. You arms that are round her neck pull her closer to you until your bodies are pressed together and your head is resting on her shoulder. 

Ellie feels her cheeks redden as she realises you two are in public and dancing together, so closely too, but as she looks up, she breathes a sigh of relief that no one’s eyes are on you both. It wasn’t that she wanted it to be a secret but she felt like she was under a magnifying glass whenever she was out and now was no different. She notices you shifting until your face is back in front of hers where she meets your lidded eyes. You’re drunk and she knows that so she had only had one drink to make sure she could watch you, she wanted to let you blow off some steam but the thought of being drunk like you were now unsettled her. Her eyes widen as you lean in but they shut as she relaxes into the kiss. You lick at her bottom lip and she opens her mouth so her tongue can collide with yours and the kiss deepens as you cock your head to the side slightly and push your body impossibly closer to hers. As you both pull away she looks at you with a giddy expression, she hated being the centre of attention but knowing that you just kissed her in front of everyone here makes her beam with pride, until she notices your eyes aren’t meeting hers, they’re fixed over her shoulder and your eyebrows were scrunched together in a cruel scowl. She glances over her shoulder and when she sees your parents standing there both red with scowls that matched yours she realised you kissing her in front of everyone had nothing to do with her. You were using her to piss off your parents and she felt more hurt than she had two weeks ago after the attack from the horde. 

“Are you fucking serious?” She pulls away from you leaving almost a foot of space between you both.  

“What?” You feign ignorance, she shakes her head and chuckles drly before storming away from you and out of the bar. 

“Ellie, wait up! What the fuck is your problem?” You slur as you chase after her, despite the limp she was moving impressively quickly. As you catch up to her she spins around with fire in her eyes. 

“YOU! You’re my fucking problem.” You stand completely taken back by her rage as she begins walking off again, the guilt consumes you in an instant as you begin trailing behind her, keeping your distance, knowing you had been caught. It wasn’t like you only kissed her because your parents were watching but that fact doesn’t make what you did any less awful. The walk was slow and long despite Ellie storming as fast as her injured body would take her and when she reaches the house and enters she slams the door behind her, right in your face. You enter cautiously and close the door behind you quietly as you see her stomping up the stairs. You flinch as you hear her bedroom door slam and prepare yourself for the worst as you turn the doorknob and shamefully slip through the door. “Get out.” 

“No, let me explain.” 

“Get out.” 

“No Ellie, just listen please.” She moves towards you at lightning speed and pushes you against the wall holding you there, she was rough but she wasn’t trying to hurt you. Her breathing was deep and fast as she stared you down with dark eyes. Neither of you spoke, you didn’t know what to say and all Ellie wanted to do was scream so you both stayed silent and frozen in your places. She takes in the sight of you hungrily as her mind is is contemplating her next move. Just looking at you makes her angry but as she takes in your appearance, something else takes over. 

She smashes her lips into yours so hard it almost hurt as your teeth clash together and her tongue prods at your lower lip. Her hand finds its place around your neck and squeezes until you gasp so she can invade your mouth with her tongue, her hand remains wrapped around your neck squeezing more gently this time as you moan into her mouth. She snaps away from you and pulls you away from the wall before pushing you down onto the bed face first, you go to flip over to face her but her knee over the arch of your back stops you. “That was fucked up.” 

“I know Ellie, I’m sorry.” 

“Shut up.” She grabs a handful of your ass and kneads at the flesh. You hadn’t seen this side of Ellie, even when you would bicker day in and out, she still seemed like Ellie. This wasn’t Ellie. You feel her knee leave your back but you don’t move, afraid that if you anger her more she’ll leave you pent up and frustrated. You just watch as she looks down at you taking in your body from this angle before hooking her hands round the waistband of your trousers and underwear, she meets your eyes and for a second you see your Ellie in there. “You wanna do this?” 

“Please.” 

“You’re gonna regret that.” She yanks everything down in one swoop leaving you completely bare from the waist down. She grabs your hips and yanks them up until you knees bend to support the new position. You feel vulnerable knowing she can see everything right now but you feel safe regardless as you watch her eye your heat with a lick of her lips.  

You gasp and jolt as you feel her rubbing two fingers up and down your slit gathering your slick and spreading it all around. Her free hand holds you in place with a bruising grip on your hip as she surveys your face to check you’re okay. She was so, so angry at you but the thought of hurting you almost made her stop for a second, she only didn’t because of the quiet whine that left your lips as you wiggled your hips at her slightly trying to signal what you need. 

“Ask for it or you’re not getting it.” You roll your eyes before sighing and accepting defeat on this one occasion knowing that if there was ever a time to not hit her with a snarky rebuttal, now was the time. 

“Please fuck me, Ellie.” Your words set something off inside her and she immediately plunged two of her long fingers inside you as the other hand left your hip to rub tight circles harshly on your throbbing clit. You groan at the sudden intrusion as you push back, your needy hole sucking her fingers in even deeper as you shudder. Her hands were bigger than yours so her fingers reached places you never had and the feeling had your eyes rolling back in your head. She curled her fingers to abuse your sweet spot as her assault on your core only quickened, your body was on fire as you trembled and moaned. “Oh fuck Ellie, please... keep going.” You can barely get the words out through bated breaths and a mixture of groans and moans as you clamp your eyes shut focusing on chasing your high that was racing at you like lightning. “I’m so close oh my god.” As quick as your release approached, it dwindled away as Ellie removed her fingers from you and flipped you over. 

She could barely feel the achey pain in her body as she stared down at the prickly expression on your face. You open your mouth to question her but before you can she slips her fingers that were shiny from your arousal into your mouth, making you gag as she pushes them in to the knuckles.  

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” She uses her hand in your mouth to manoeuvre your head into a nod that she can’t help but smile at. It was the first time you had seen her smile since you started dancing at the bar so the sight warmed you until her face dropped once again. With her free hand she yanked down her bottoms in the same fashion she did yours before climbing on top of one of your thighs to slot you both together at the hips. She brings the thigh she isn’t straddling to rest over her shoulder as she bites at your calf, you wince at the sting, but the pain is immediately replaced by pleasure as she begins to grind herself down onto you, hard and fast. Her face screws up as her eyes clamp shut ignoring the way yours were staring holes into her as she chased her high. Your moans became muffled to her as she uses you to get herself off. You’re seeing stars as her hips begin to stutter in their rhythm but once again, the feeling goes as quick as it came as she finishes with a guttural groan and stills her hips on yours.  

“No, no, no.” You whine to yourself as you throw your head back in frustration until you feel her climb off you and yank you up from the bed so you’re standing in front of her. She doesn’t wait before she spins you around and starts walking you backwards to the door. As you realise what she’s doing panic takes over and you wrap your arms around her in a death grip as you plead with her. “No, please Ellie. Come on, let’s talk. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She reaches the still open door from earlier and pushes you off her past the doorframe. She slams the door in your face before she can even see you stagger from the force of her push. 

You consider storming back in there but decide now wasn’t the time before dragging yourself to your room where you shut the door and immediately curl up on your bed as you pull the covers over yourself. You hug your knees tightly to your chest as the tears begin to fall. You had sex with Ellie, for the first time, and she kicked you out afterwards without a second thought. You weren’t angry, you understood why she did it, but it didn’t hurt any less. 

You fall asleep still hugging yourself tightly trying to pretend it’s Ellie’s who’s embracing you and that you aren’t alone right now. But you are. 

tags: @emiliabby @readbydayana @radioheadfan699

[i-care-4u]

TALK TO ME | PEDRI

PAIR: PEDRI X FEMALE!READER

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED | MASTERLIST

you were invited to pablo’s party alongside his barcelona teammates and a few others. as you entered, you were immediately greeted by pablo and his sister, aurora.

at this point, you and the gaviras were like family. ever since meeting them because of your guardian’s interactions with their mother, you and the siblings got closer as the ages pass by. although things have changed because of career choices, one thing you can agree on was that barcelona is the move. you love barcelona as much as they do.

“hey guys!” you waved at the gavira siblings and they exchanged a smile towards before coming up to you.

starting with the left cheek, aurora exchanged kisses with you, “you finally made it!”

“i did!” you posed.

pablo joined, “thanks for coming in tonight. feel free to serve yourself some food, and drinks will be right in the fridge.”

you nod to pablo, messing up his hair, “thank you pablito!”

-

after greeting everyone inside the party, you decided to sit down and listen to the recent gossip. you were accompanied by pablo’s friend group.

as people slowly got off the couch, you saw that as your cue to leave somewhere else. however, fermín desperately asked you to stay.

“where are you going?” fermín asked you, “you’re going to miss the best part of the story!”

“i’m going to grab a drink and go outside.” you said as you start making your way into the kitchen. you opened the refrigerator and grabbed one of the drinks. afterwards, you closed the door and made your way into the backyard.

the backyard view looked very beautiful at night. however, there was no one there, or at least you thought so. walking towards the pool, appeared a guy sitting on one of the chairs.

“is someone sitting there?” you knew the answer is no, no one is sitting there, but you used that question as a way to start a conversation with the guy.

“no, you can sit there if you want.”

as you sat down, you started to examine the guy’s face. you were already familiar with his face, although you were unsure if that was his name.

“you must be…”

“pedri, no need to pretend.”

you raised your hands, giving him a sarcastic dirty look, “wow, okay. i was just making sure i was looking at the right person.”

“and you must be y/n. gavi tells me about you.”

“oh, he’s so sweet. you should be lucky to have someone like him.”

“and i am.”

for a brief moment, silence fell between you, with the peaceful sounds of the night wrapping about you like a comfortable blanket. the cold breeze rustled through the leaves, instilling a sense of serenity in your bones. pedri interrupted the pause, his voice soft but full of inquiry. "so, how long have you been friends with pablo and aurora?"

you chuckled quietly, remembering your closeness with the gavira siblings. "we have a long history together. our families have been close for years, and we almost grew up together. it's like they're my second family." pedri nodded in agreement, his face thoughtful. "that is nice. family is vital." you couldn't help but agree, a warm emotion flooding your chest as you remembered your relationship with the gaviras. "oh, definitely. they've always been there for me, through thick and thin."

as the night proceeded, you found yourself deep in discussion with pedri, the words flowing effortlessly as if you had known each other for years. his presence gave you a sense of calm and ease, allowing you to forget about everything else. you were lost in the moment, telling stories, laughing, and even pausing to contemplate quietly. it felt as if time had stopped and the world had shrunk to just the two of you in the black of night.

“so you’re telling me that you never wanted to approach me?” you asked pedri, being in disbelief.

pedri shrugged, “seeing you and the group of girls, i’d say out of everyone, you were the most intimidating.”

“gavi tells me all about you,” you repeated the words pedri said earlier. “don’t tell me he influenced you.”

“he didn’t…clearly you were just out of my league.”

“out of my league as in?”

“one that is getting the people in telling me that i pulled the impossible. one that i can show off to everyone. one that got me looking like the average person when standing next to you, a supermodel-like appearance.”

as the hours went, you developed a peculiar fascination to pedri. there was a magnetic draw between you, a connection that appeared to transcend words and actions. and when you looked into pedri's eyes, you noticed something flicker beneath the surface: a spark of something unsaid, something that mirrored the feelings running through your heart.

"may i?" pedri asked you. you drew in closer, absorbed in the moment's intensity, the distance between you narrowing with each passing second. and when your lips came together in a deep, delicate kiss, the world around you seemed to drift away, leaving only the warmth of pedri's touch and the hammering of your pulse.

lost in the heat of desire, you felt pedri's fingertips trace patterns across your flesh, sending chills down your spine. his touch was electric, setting off a fire of desire that grew stronger with each passing instant.

the need for air eventually separated you, leaving you both breathless and overwhelmed with want. but, even as you gathered your breath, the desire in pedri's eyes indicated that this was far from over. without saying anything, you both rose from your chairs, hands interlaced as you headed towards the house, the anticipation of what lay ahead hanging heavily in the air between you. however, as you approached the door upstairs, a voice shrieked from behind you, stopping you both in your tracks.

"since when were you two a thing?" fermín's voice burst forth, full of wonder. you turned to face him, hot cheeks and beating heart, wondering how to react to his unexpected interruption. but as you met pedri's eyes, you shared a wordless understanding, a mutual acceptance of the emotion that had developed between you.

"we'll talk later," pedri muttered softly, kissing your lips before turning to face fermín, whose expression was unreadable. and as you entered that room together, the anticipation of what was to come hung heavily in the air, a tempting reminder of your love for one another.

[iloveprettyboysblog]

Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.

TW: age gap( everyone's legal but the female character is older). JJ's abusive, absentee father. Suicide mentions. Angst. Smut. (Eventually) Minors DNI🚫

Devour Part One

New school year. Same old high school. Same JJ Maybank. Just another year older. Not much wiser. Lost in the masses. New students. New teachers. JJ felt invisible, like people were looking right through him. Until JJ bumped into the stereotypical jock. "Hey, asshole. Watch where you're going."

JJ steps out of his way. The jock stopped without warning right in the middle of the hallway. "Sorry, my bad. I didn't see the traffic lights over your head." His pretty girlfriend giggles and looks JJ up and down.

The jock notices his girlfriend noticing JJ and he sticks out his chest. "Take off, pogue." He turns and JJ takes his chance and winks at the girlfriend. She's pretty and off-limits.

She looks over her shoulder and makes sure that her boyfriend isn't paying attention and she blows JJ a kiss and he watches them walk down the hallway. Wait for it, wait for it and there it is. The girlfriend looks over her shoulder to double check if JJ is still watching.

JJ has a knack for making people like him. That good ol Maybank charm. It's how he survived high school so far. He learned it pretty early in his life.

Wishing that the day was almost over and that summer was still in session instead of school. Summer in the outer banks is very laid back, sleeping until noon and staying up having bonfires and parties at the beach. Surfing and fishing. Plenty of pretty tourons keep the night life interesting.

"JJ! Wait Up." He turns around and sees John B down the hallway. "You'll be home later?" JJ's dad is pretty much absent so JJ's usually on his own.

"There's a keggar at the boneyard Saturday night? You in?"

JJ nods and they go their separate ways. "Gotta get gone, don't want to be late on the first day of school. "

John B just grins because he knows that JJ is full of shit. JJ's eye's light up and says "I'm in. "

With his mind on the weekend and the party JJ made his way to his first class of the day: World History. By the time JJ gets there all of the desks in the back are taken. There's one empty seat in the middle of the 4th row and he slides into it, curling his long legs under the desk. They must be relics from grade school. It smells like dust and stale air. It all smells the same.

The door swings shut and a woman's voice says "Welcome to World History, I'm your teacher. Ms. Cooper. " JJ looks up and he can feel the energy in the room shift. The guy in the seat next to JJ whispers "wow."

Ms. Cooper is a smoke show. Straight blonde hair down past her shoulders, skin the color of cream and big blue eyes so clear and so deep that you could swim in them. Her body is banging, curves and tits and a sweater dress that leaves nothing to the imagination.

"Hello, Ms. Cooper, " the guy on the other side of JJ whispers. The girls in class are speechless. Ms. Cooper is all business, walking up and down the aisles, her high heels clicking on the concrete floor, talking about history. She passes JJ and he catches the scent of her vanilla perfume. He sees that her fingernails are painted pale icy pink. He wants to see them wrapped around his dick.

She makes it back to her desk and leans against it. She crosses her legs at her ankles. JJ's eyes wander down her long legs and end at her black high heels, ankle straps that show off her smooth, tan calves. She's talking about world history but JJ can't pay attention, distracted by how beautiful she is.

She instructs two students to pass out the text books. They trip over themselves and scramble to pass out the books. The books thuds on JJ's desk and he opens it up. The whole time Ms. Cooper is going over the school year. He's listening to her voice but not her words. Her voice is soft and pretty.

JJ didn't realize that she was asking questions. " Who among us thinks that learning about history is a waste of time? Who thinks that the past should stay in the past? " It's so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.

JJ's too busy trying to figure out how old she is. She must be in her mid to late 20's. Almost 30 he's guessing. She's older, so what. She's still fucking edible.

She's asking another question and the students start looking for the answer in the history book. Before he can stop himself he says aloud, "Me and Noah." Everyone turns to look at JJ. Ms. Cooper's blue eyes settle on JJ. "Noah?" She questions.

Feeling confident with her eyes on him. He shrugs and gives her a cheeky grin. "Yeah, I know a lot of reasons to love history." Students laugh. Some groan at the lame Pun. They look at Ms. Cooper to see her reaction. She arches a perfect eyebrow and asks "And what's your name, sir?"

"JJ Maybank." Her eyes are locked on his. It's as if she's seeing inside his head. He feels heat creeping up his neck. "And," she says, "I know a lot of reasons why you should sit in the first row. Right by my desk. "

That makes everyone laugh. She turned the tables and JJ grabs his stuff and moves to a different desk right in front of hers. John B and Pope nudge each other and Kie just roles her eyes.

Not too soon after the dismissal bell rings and she hands out the assignment. JJ grabs his stuff and heads to the door. He turns around once to see her bending over the desk. Her dress hugs her in all the right places and he wants to do the same. He leaves the room before he can't control his impulses.

[thegeminisage]

i'm 'tell me what it was like in 2014' anon and can i just say. i am so honored by the time and care you put into that answer. WOW. it was such a delight to read and kind of vicariously experience. i'm 18 now so i was 9 when winter soldier came out, needless to say it was not really on my radar. But i've always been interested in those kind of golden tumblr age fandoms (doing destiel from 2020-2022 was like. the best experience of my lifeeee) and even like in middle school i was scrolling through pinterest screenshots of avengers incorrect quotes etc. that creative generativeness and collective celebration seems like. such a utopia honestly. what you described, and the cultural context of it being the mid 2010s and how media and politics and the internet wereback then seems so perfectly aligned. i'm happy you got to experience something so special! re: not easily conquered. i read it a few years ago just because of how renowned it was and. well you KNOW. and anyway the crazy fucking whiplash i got from realizing the supernatural blogger i followed later was EMILY??. the fandom's interest in history and culture is also especially beautiful to me. i will literally never see the winged victory the same way again. ik people always say fics written 2012-2015 have crack in them but stucky was on another level. people were doing literal highbrow analysis and art..that banana fic. i have i love you like rlb saved on my notes app from like 2018 when i was in middle school. the dedication and like crazy amount of work that went into the fandom is just out of this world to me. like i'd give my soul to be there honestly.. you just dont get things like that anymore. again thank you so so much for your wonderful long answer, and like honestly. if i ever pursue some project on fandom history i might ask to interview you or sth. but anyway, suffice it to say: i really really wish i could have gotten to see it first hand, but thank goodness i can still go back and read fic and look at fanart and. thank you it's been long long time by helen forrest. and i''m so glad people who were active online then are still on tumblr to talk about it all

hi sorry it took me a minute to reply i was doing accursed ten year rewatch of Movie. i have an extended reply.

you should listen to this...someone sent this to my friend and it unlocked memories i didn't knew i had

much like rlb, which was insane of you to remember, because i sure didn't. dropped that on the groupchat earlier and got to gleefully watch the horror of memories unlocked unfold on their faces

also so true about destiel tumblr. sustained madness. i romanticized stucky tumblr a little in my answer bc of nostalgia like i wasn't also making mortal enemies at the same time (i sometimes spot the urls of people who made me mad back then and have a ratatouille flashback) i was making those lifelong friends BUT you're not missing anything major bc the destiel madness FAR exceeded the stucky madness. there was just so much more mania to it.

when i was in high school i had the enduring desire to have been born in the 60s so i could be a hippie full time. i thought their clothes and anti-establishment attitudes were groovy. i feel like this is you about mid-2010s tumblr and i absolutely love that for you.

that said, you may not get movies like cap2 anymore but you will certainly get fandoms like it...i recently got into trek and reading spockanalia and all their vintage fic from the 60s and 70s and 80s and seeing in some ways how spock shock is so similar to destiel madness (and THEY didn't even have the internet) has taught me that the girlies gender neutral have been out here and primed to go insane from day one and that as long as there are mentally ill teens and 20-somethings who like media there will always be people who go insane about the media. they will grow into the 30-somethings and 40-somethings and higher that write the good fic and sell the smutty fanzines under the tables at cons. there will never be another tos or cap2 or nov 5 but certainly there will always be SOMETHING to go joyfully nuts about on the internet. the tricky part is just finding ur people

[sonic-spirit]

OKAY, STAR STABLE, LET’S GOOOO!!!

So a week ago I started playing the MMO Star Stable Online. Which by all accounts is an awful idea, because it’s a clunky, overpriced trainwreck. And I am having so much fun.

Okay, maybe “fun” is a bit strong. I absolutely can’t recommend it. But I’ve got a long history of, “It’s terrible, and I LOVE IT,” with various media, and this is falling firmly into that category.

:readmore:

The premise of Star Stable (or SSO, but I’m gonna be stubborn and call it Star Stable) is that you are a girl (and you can only be a girl) who’s gone out to summer riding camp, because you both really like horses, and because you feel a faint mystical draw. And like, haven’t we all, right? So you’re this girl, you’re assigned a horse that the stable later “sells” to you (your only free horse) because their owners moved far away and don’t really come out to them anymore so it all works out for everyone.

You create your avatar from the super limited stock hairstyles and makeup designs that look like Bratz rejects, pick your horse’s coat color and name, and away you go into a janky World of Warcraft clone of your horse girl dreams! And no joke, apparently the original name of the company that owns Star Stable was “World of Horsecraft”. So yeah, loooots of very WoW game mechanics without some of the quality of life improvements that that game received over the last 10 years.

Cuz yeah, Star Stable Online was initially released in October 2011 (in Sweden, it went worldwide in June 2012). It was also actually a follow-up to the Starshine Legacy, Star Academy, and Star Stable games…but I’m still gonna be stubborn and keep calling it Star Stable.

Like most games targeted at horse girls it’s full of superficialness and jank. But it actually has some interesting story going on and isn’t just about putting bows on vaguely unsettling horse models! It’s a win!

I really like the story so far. There’s some evil industrialists doing shady shit for real estate schemes and environmentally terrible oil drilling, and ALSO the EEEEVIL horse girls with EEEEVIL horses, naturally called the Dark Riders.

And DUDE. So like, I understand that the long-time fanbase is upset about the character re-designs and apparently there were some personality changes too, and that absolutely sucks on characters you know and are attached to. But as someone coming in from the outside?

WHAT a glow-up. Like, new style Sabine has SEVERE dark mommy dom energy. And fuuuuck, those arms, tho. Like, that’s not even usually my thing, and I’m all damn. ^_^ Though I do like pretty boys that can beat me up, so pretty girls that can beat me up is not really a stretch.

And like, LOOK AT THIS BEAUTIFUL CANONICAL LESBIAN! I love her! I love Alex!

So yeah. I do see the charm of the old art style, especially the more of the 2D art I see. But the new 3D models are SOOOO NICE. Just A+

But not all the characters have been updated yet! Or even most!

Ya wanna see Mario next to Ydris?

Because there’s a scene where you ABSOLUTELY do, and it’s hilarious.

^_^ Yeh, Ydris is on his way to Tumblr daddy-itude, if not there already.

Fun fact: The first NPC you meet, Justin Moorland? NOT ONE OF THE UPDATED CHARACTERS YET.

Look at him. Glorious.

So yeah. The player avatars are apparently set to be getting an update soon-ish, like, there’s a closed beta going on, apparently, but yeah. Not there yet.

So here’s my dude:

Yeah. It’s a whole thing.

Sooo, I don’t love that you have to be a girl. Like, there’s just no option, and the game’s writers have stated it’s not gonna change—that the story is about a young girl, and since plenty of games are locked as stories about dudes they don’t see a problem with locking you in on that.

So, if you happen to be a transmasc enby, as a very non-random example, you get to run around a game world with everyone calling you she/her, girl, my darling, that sort of thing. Like, for me it mostly just feels not great, I don’t mind the rapidly over-affectionate endearments people throw out to girls, though I’d rather do that while calling me a boy, but it could def be p triggering to some trans guys. If the game stokes any kind of interest and you’re transfem, though, I could see it really scratching a nice gender place.

But yeah. I don’t see the push-back to games that lock your character in place as a boy being to lock you in place as a girl instead, actually. The real push back is options. Give us options. Let us swim in the wild ocean of gender, adrift in ways only we can imagine. Give us some customization when that’s already the point of the game. We’re not playing as Sally from Stockholm. We’re playing as You, the MC. Hell, I’d honestly be good with the same character model but you can get different (ie flat chest) looks with clothing items and a field to enter in pronouns to be plugged in by the system. Bonus if you let me select endearments I’m okay with. Like, I’m stoked they’re gonna be updated the avatar models, and when that happens I SERIOUSLY hope they include build options, and honestly when they do roll it out I’m gonna have way higher standards than I would about simply making the current models easier for trans and nonbinary players to live with. I’m mostly keeping my requests to NPC interactions, because it’s a lot easier to edit text than character models.

That being said, locking the hair and makeup options behind the “This is the in-game currency you can only get with real, actual money,” is scummy as hell.

Which brings me to the predatory aspects of the game, and why I absolutely shouldn’t be playing it, and why I absolutely will not recommend it, no matter how much I enjoy/end up enjoying it.

Shit costs mad money. And it only gets worse from there.

There’s two ways to play: An $80 lifetime membership, or an $8 per month subscription. There’s subscription bundles, but they still charge you the same $8 per month, just in larger chunks. There is a trial free-play up to level 5, and I got to level 6 on it before running out of anything to do. Because it strangles you down not by kicking you out of the game when you hit the level 5 cap, but by not opening up new parts of the map, and by not generating additional quests in the places you can get to—despite there still being plenty of local quests you’d otherwise have access to, or even by giving you the quests you can’t complete because you’re locked into the first two or so areas. There’s also a one-time-option two-week membership for $4, which is what I’m currently on.

Because although I’ve all but made up my mind…I’m still making up my mind. Money’s tight. Is this worth the $80 to me?

Because I am not giving them a cent after that.

See, the most predatory part of the game is that there’s two currencies: Jorvik shillings, gained through quests and training, and Star Coins, made of real actual dollars (or krona, cuz Sweden). And there’s two ways to get Star Coins. You receive 100 per week in an “allowance” through your paid subscription (this is also true for the lifetime membership), or through buying them.

That’s it. No quest rewards, no ability to transfer Jorvik shillings into Star Coins, nothing. And though some items can be paid for by either Jorvik shillings or Star Coins, many items can’t. And guess where the horses land.

STAR COINS, BAY-BEEEEE! That’s right, you can get more, newer, shiny horses to love and play with. To bond with and ride. To become overly attached to the pixels on the screen cuz roleplay, bay-bee! And all it costs is a mere 900 Star Coins. Sometimes more.

Yeah. And again, you can ONLY use Star Coins to get horses, AND they’ve been releasing new horses every month.

Like, the point of the game’s story is not to collect all the horses…but it’s absolutely where the company wants their players to be looking at and thinking about. They promote and pump out these bright, shiny, beautiful things, and people snatch them up.

It takes 9 weeks to save up for one horse. Nearly 2 months. Unless you buy more Star Coins.

And it’s not just new horses that are locked behind a paywall. Remember how I complained about avatar customization? Well it’s BACK, bay-bee! You can change your avatar’s hair and makeup. You can buy new looks and swap them out. For Star Coins. And only Star Coins. Wanna change your home stable—the place you store the inventory you don’t carry in your bag, and the place you keep your horses, go back to to switch out your character customization, etc? Real Money Coins. Want to expand the number of slots in your stable? I think that’s also Real Money Coins, but I could be misremembering…it’s to their advantage to keep slots costing, but cheaper.

Everything you buy has the Real Money Coin option. Not everything has the shillings option. And again, some of the choicest stuff is behind that meat grinder, and wouldn’t it just be easier to just pay, rather than waiting weeks and weeks?

Yeah. It’s gross.

Holy micro-transactions, Batman! But the hole goes deeper.

So, there’s a mobile app. Well, technically there’s two, cuz the game itself was ported to mobile in 2020. You can do it, but I don’t recommend it. The clunky play is even worse on a touch screen, it’s pretty resource-intensive and suuuper drained my battery, and heated up my phone a significant amount. So yeah, you can. But it’s p bad.

But they also have a mobile app that’s designed to be a mobile app, and not just a 10-year-old game ported over to run on different hardware. It’s Horse Tamagotchi. That’s it. It’s just a Tamagotchi game, but horses.

Changing my thinking from “Horse raising sim” to “Horse Tamagotchi” is how I kept from bouncing right off, by the way.

You get a foal of your choice from the fairly large selection of horse breeds and raise it up to an adult. Once you get it up to level 10, you can use your Real Money Coins to transfer your new baby to the Real Game. As a level one. Of 15.

To be fair, it only takes three days to max level them, and you could probably do it quicker if you really wanted to. But why would you want to unless you already had the coins ready for transfer? Nothing you do after they reach cap is gonna affect them going over. Like, there’s a happiness meter, so theoretically that might transfer, but this is a game that dumps your quest log when you log out, so I doubt it.

Yeah, I didn’t mention that yet. If you have an in-progress quest when you log out or lose connection, no you didn’t, you haven’t accepted it yet, actually. So remember what you were up to, and don’t take more quests than you’ll finish in one session. This is honestly easy to do, most of the quests are short, and often are, running between two places or fetch quests. But it does go against most people’s WoW-taught impulse. I’m just lucky I started the game intending to pick it clean of content, and began with only taking one quest at a time. It’s been more enjoyable than grabbing every quest I encountered ever was, and helped me actually follow the story, unlike some of my WoW playing, but yeah. Not exactly the way you expect to play an MMO.

So back to Horse Tamagotchi. You get your foal, “Play minigames” with it (swipe up-down-left-right, drag and drop, or move your finger slow or fast over it to Do A Thing), level until it gets tired, then stop. There’s a gardening mechanic to get treats you can also sell for coins, and some dress-up and decorate mechanics that mostly cost Real Money. You can have up to 3 stalls for free, after that it’s Real Money. Like I said, there’s a decently wide selection of horse breeds, and some of the coat colors are app exclusives—so the only way to get That Breed in That Color. And different colored horse is what the community is About, soooo. Yeah.

I picked an Appaloosa, a Paso Fino, and a Welsh Pony, cuz there’s pony races only ponies can do, and I want in. My absolute favorite horse breed, cuz I’m basic like that, is the Arabian. And that’s not in the app (or possibly not in the app yet). So I picked my second favorite, a cool gaited breed I was also planning to buy in game eventually, and a pony for those sweet, sweet pony races. And I think all three might have app-exclusive coat colors? So that’s neat.

But that makes 3 more horses I’d like to bring into the main game. That’s 18 weeks of play, plus another 10 to get an Arabian because you bet your ass I’m getting my favorite breed, and Arabs cost 950 Real Monies, cuz they special. So that’s nearly 6 months for all these horses, and for me to either impulsively break down and lay out the money OR(and) get bored and drop the obsession entirely.

Chaos, and all this got kicked off because I learned about Alicia Online, a fully free horse MMO that I can’t play on my computer cuz it’s a Mac, but could totally ask to install on and borrow one of my partners’. I’m very smooth.

And all of this, and I’m over here like, “Damn. I wish I could be a horse trainer.”

[invisibleraven]

And one more to get you to your 500 faster and not at all because I'm greedy: playing with each other's fingers for Ray/Rose/Reggie please and thank you

Reggie had kind of hoped that five AM wake up calls were a thing of the past now that Julie was sleeping through the night. But of course he forgot about his insomniac night owl of an agent, Marcy.

He joked with her once that she must be a vampire given her tendency to never sleep, and she had flashed him a wicked smile in response which almost made him shudder. But Marcy was the best in the biz, patient and kind, but tough as balls. He couldn't ask for any better.

That didn't mean he didn't want to downright murder her when she called the house looking for him at the ass crack of dawn one Sunday.

"Please don't tell me you need me to bail you out," Reggie grumbled, rubbing at his eyes. Rose was still snoring against his back but Ray was blinking up at him sleepily. "Go back to sleep hun, it's just Marcy."

"Just Marcy huh? Is that how you talk about the woman who is gonna change your life?"

"You already did, several times over. But that still doesn't explain why you're calling me before the sun has risen. Some of us enjoy sleep you know?"

But then she spoke and Reggie's world turned on its axis. "The Grammy noms are out, and you scored three."

"WHAT?" Reggie shouted down the line, sitting right up in bed. Ray jolted awake, sitting up next to him. Rose slumbered on-that woman could sleep through the end of the world, he swore. "What do you mean I scored three? I didn't even put the album in for consideration!"

"But I did," Marcy said, and Reggie could almost hear her smirk through the phone. "You can thank me later, but you have a full day of interviews ahead of you, so get up, get beautiful, and start writing your speech."

With that the call was over, and Reggie just stared at the receiver in his hand until Ray gently eased it out, returning it to it's cradle. "So you got nominated for an award?" he asked gently.

Reggie hung his head. "Grammies. Three Grammies."

"And this is a bad thing?"

"I... I don't deserve them," Reggie said.

"Bullshit."

They turned their heads and there was Rose, scowling up at Reggie. "That album is amazing tesoro, you deserve all that and more."

"But the Petal Pushers..."

"Pssh," Rose grunted, sitting up and taking his hand in hers. "I love my band, but we play for fun, not for accolades. I don't need awards to know we're good."

Ray took his other hand, and then Rose's, their fingers tangling together, twisting and playing so that Reggie could fidget without leaving the bed. "You deserve all this and more my love."

"It just feels... I always thought if I got here, the guys would be there beside me, you know?" Reggie said, snffling. Even after all these years, it still hurt. Not as much as it did thanks to time and therapy. But it felt almost hollow to be nominated without Luke, Bobby, and Alex's names there beside his own.

"I bet you, wherever they are, they are so so proud of you Reggie," Rose assured him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "You keep them alive in every song you sing, so don't deny yourself this honour out of any obligation to them. They would hate that."

"They really would," Reggie said with a wet chuckle. "I still might not win."

"You will," his partners chorused and Reggie grinned, always bolstered by their faith in him. Squeezed their hands, and nodded. Even if the bittersweet feeling never really left him at the feeling that history was funny in the way it worked.

The night of the ceremony though, with Rose and Ray's hands clenched in his, Reggie felt... okay with being here. He had a Sunset Curve tee under his suit, a bracelet from each of his boys on his wrist, and he knew that somewhere, they were cheering him on.

But when he won, Reggie still cried a little at the empty spaces beside him on the stage. "Oh wow, I um, never thought I'd get here." He looked at the camera. "Julie, look! Daddy won! Now go to bed baby girl, okay?" The audience chuckled, and Reggie went through his speech, making sure to thank his team, his partners, and then finally, he held up the award. Sure it was for country, not rock. But still...

"I wouldn't be here today if not for my friends," he said, stifling a sob. "They... they meant the world to me. So Luke, Bobby, and Alex? this is for you."

He wiped away a tear, blew Rose and Ray a kiss, then walked off stage. The award feeling so heavy in his hands, but his heart felt a million pounds lighter.

[seawitch62]

Give him all your attention!

Yandere

Implied sex

Word count 712

^Narcissus stares at his reflection, while his rejected suitor, Echo, looks on. The son of the river god Cephissus and the naiad, or nymph, Liriope, it was said that Narcissus would live to old age, if he never looked at himself. He had gained many female admirers, entranced by his beauty, but he rejected them all. One of them, Echo, was so upset by his rejection that she withdrew from the world to waste away. All that was left of her was a whisper. It was heard by the goddess Nemesis, who, in response, made Narcissus fall in love with his own reflection, at which he stared until he died. A narcissus flowered in his absence.^ (History today).

            •^Narcissus^•

"Makeup remover wipes? Seriously?" Disbelief and annoyance colour her curt tone.

Kim Young Kyun, who will from henceforth be known as Hwiyoung. He has gone too far this time! She tells herself, I'm not dealing with his rules nor his dominant chauvinist behaviour. Handing the offensive wipes back to Hwiyoung, "go to hell" and with that slams the door shut. "Open this door" he growls "now!".  Heartbeat racing at an alarming rate, ignoring his demands, adamantly holding her ground, "you will regret this my petal!" He snarls at the door, after a moment she can hear his retreating footsteps.  Shaking with fright she breathes a sigh of relief.

How did I let it get to this? Because I'm weak! She mutters.

Weak and pathetic! He is stubborn guy, determined once he has set a course nothing or no one will allow him to deviate. Attractive, yes he is and he knows it! I'm a damn fool! But I did it and I ended it!

He plays her like a musical instrument she tells herself especially in the bedroom where beautiful music notes play. He is a very giving and demanding lover and stamina, sighing. Romantic  and loyal, the candlelit dinners were dreamy. So when did it all go down the drain? Stubbornness and perseverance once he made his mind up nothing and I mean nothing could change his view. Territorial when did that start, oh when I smiled at the barista thanking him for the coffee. Jealous of any time spent not with him, possessive hell yeah, "you are mine!" "Remember you belong to me!". Exciting at first but after a while completely and utterly draining. 

"Are you deliberately trying to get all the bees in the room to pollinate your flower?" Remembering how he took my hand and stormed out of the party. "Wow" he's lost the plot! What was he  thinking? The outfit  covered all  appropriately.

Catching him going through my phone and having the audacity to tell me it's his right. Telling me what to wear the relationship was fizzing out, I really liked him but really? Buying clothes for me to wear when I was out in public, my Grandmother would and could wear those items, then the sexy lingerie which was for his eyes only.  Demanding that when I'm with him one hundred percent of attention falls on him, him alone. Now no makeup, it's just too much. "I do not belong to him!".

♤

Some time passes and not a word from Hwiyoung,  relief and surprise, thinking he might have tried to mend things or at least communicate. Maybe he also came to this realization that this is for the best. 

A delivery, anticipation, wonder what is ? Who sent it?

The white box with a gold ribbon inside three white roses in full bloom, underneath is a red flag.

The note reads "You should have not waved the red flag" cryptic?

Hwiyoung! 

The scent of the roses  is alluring and intoxicating, their fragrance begging her to come closer and inhale their perfume drawing her ever closer.

Vertigo strikes, dizziness, the room spinning.

" I have to sit down".

■

Senses alert realization that this is not Kansas anymore!, hysteria grips. Where am I? It appears to be a greenhouse!.

Hwiyoung appears from nowhere, his smile menacing.

"Ahh my beautiful flower in my own personal garden!"

"What?"

"My petal, when you can  learn to obey the rules, look only at me! When you admit you belong to me and me alone! I may grant you your freedom!".

[sirenedoug]

OFMD Mixtape

Having gone down the rabbit hole that is OFMD brain rot, and being of GenX, my love note to the show, those who created it, and the wonderful Fandom, is in the form of a mixtape. Er, rather, a playlist.

 Music has always been a salve and takes my mind away from all the trauma of the world.  This list goes from fun and silly to the most angsty, love sick, heart thumping collection representing mainly Stede and Ed’s character development and romance.  

I’m going to break them down episode by episode and you can find all the songs linked here:

Please have mercy on me.  I am new to the beautiful world of Fandom (ignore my shoebox full of Star Wars bubble gum cards and my Tardis cookie jar…it took a Pandemic and, well, the current state of the world to bring me to this wonderful collection of people in love with a show.  I’m just a girl, standing in front of a show, and obsessively thinking about the beauty of it all.) I’m working some shit out, apparently.  My rambling gets longer as I get further in the list.

So, with that, please comment suggested songs you find just as angsty and fitting. I've got room for 50 songs on each side of my cassette.

With Love…

Episode 1

We’re going to start, soft and sweet, with “A Pirate’s Life” by Joel Fry. 

Yup, part of the soundtrack for the show. This sea shanty by the talented actor who plays Fenchie perfectly captures the innocent (and ignorant) Stede-view of life as a pirate before reality begins to sink in for Stede and for us all.

”The Empty Boat” by Caetano Veloso is also part of the soundtrack and was a perfect way to end the show after Stede experiences death and bumbles through the pirate captain life. It’s too perfect not to add to the list.  Soft and sad,  “From the east to the west, Oh, the stream is long, Yes, my dream is wrong, From the birth to the death” captures Stede’s birth as a pirate and death of his former self.  His journey begins.



Episode 2

”Lola” by The Kinks introduced me to gender identity and sexuality and acceptance.  I was fascinated by this song as a kid.  There are so many struggles of identity in this episode and the acceptance that love is love is a big part of the beauty of this show.  Olu understands his love of Jim, and Lucius discover’s Jim’s secret and discloses his own history of hiding who he really is.  Izzy is sent to meet Stede and the stage is set for an epic love story.  

Episode 3

"Fantasy" by Mariah Carey may not seem angsty, but it can be.  At the beginning of this Episode Stede is beginning to lean into, in a very Stede way, being a pirate.  He’s in love with his image of what a pirate captain is, and struts through the Republic of Pirates in his virginal white frock dragging poor Lucius (identified as decidedly non-virginal with a scarlet baptism).  I picture Stede tone deaf to his surroundings and singing along with Carey, “Oh, when you walk by every night, Talkin’ sweet and lookin’ fine, I get kinda hectic inside, Mmm, baby I’m so into you, Darlin’, if you only knew, All the things that flow through my mind” as he sings to his inner Gentleman Pirate.   But I like to imagine Blackbeard’s fascination with the Stede he has not yet met, having those very same thoughts, about the Gentleman Pirate. 

A shout-out to the sample in Carey’s song of Tom Tom Club's "Genius of Love".  “With my boyfriend, my laughing boyfriend, There’s no beginning and there is no end, Feels like I’m dreaming, but I’m not sleeping” Nuff said.

Now we get stabby and properly angsty.

Episode 4

Taylor Swift's "Wonderland" (Wow, that cover looks like it came straight from “Pina Coladas” by the gifted faeeebaeee! Read this if you have not. Be warned, however, faeeebaeee invented angst.) Taylor Swift has not, up to this time,  been in rotation at my house. I had heard rumors she wrote a bit angsty, but man, that girl is working some shit out.  She and Robert Smith need to collaborate.  And thank goodness she did, because this song is perfect for both Ed and Stede.  As mid-life-crisis-Ed sits by mid-life-crisis-Stede’s sickbed and nurses him with his eyes, and um, gentle touch, and as Stede awakens to meet a man (a pirate even) who appreciates him for who he is, I can hear Wonderland playing, “Flashing lights and we, Took a wrong turn and we, Fell down a rabbit hole, You held on tight to me, ‘Cause nothing’s as it seems, And spinning out of control…We found Wonderland, You and I got lost in it, And we pretended it could last forever”.  That’s it.  The only song for this episode.  It’s got the lighthouse, it’s got the tension with Izzy, it’s got Ed’s plan to kill Stede and assume Stede’s identity.  It’s got Ed’s look, as he walks away from Izzy.  It’s got Stede’s fantasy coming to full fruition.  Ooooooh, the angst.

Episode 5

"Got Weird" by Dodie

Oh Dodie, Dodie, Dodie, how I do love thee.  And really, most of her lyrics come straight out of Ed’s brain, I’m convinced.  But this song IS the inner dialogue both Ed and Stede have at different points during this episode in order to navigate dinner with the fancy white racist upper crust weirdos. “Table for two, that’s all sorted, I played the man, and you bought it, We’ll talk over glass, like I own it….So take a deep breath, a big stretch, baby, It’ll feel like a movie (maybe)...A pep talk in a bathroom corner, Do I down the gin, stick to water?”  

And really, this song would be great after the actual kiss as well…but as Ed clearly wants to kiss Stede at the end of this episode, you can imagine this being the scenario Ed is worried will take place, “I got weird when we made out, What a goddamn kiss to think about…Clearly, I’ve got shit to figure out, Baby, baby, please don’t hate me, Call me up again, I won’t get weird”.

"Rises the Moon" by Liana Flores

Just perfect.  Sweet.  Sad, cuz we know what we know now that we’ve watched the whole season more times than we are able to admit to ourselves. (btw-I’m not using the royal we here, I’m talking you and me and you and you and you…we know who we are)

 “Days fade into a watercolour blur, Memories swim and haunt you, But look into the lake, shimmering like smoke, Rises the moon”

Episode 6

"I Caught Myself" by Paramore I’ve got two songs by Paramore on my mixtape, and this one is for Ed.  It represents his struggle with the Kraken, it represents his struggle with his feelings towards Stede and it represents his struggle with his loyalty to Izzy.  It opens, “Down to you, You’re pushing and pulling me down to you, But I don’t know what I, Now when I caught myself, I had to stop myself, I’m saying something that I should have never thought…I’m saying something that I should have never thought of you, of you…But I don’t know what I want, No I don’t know what I want, You got it, you got it, Some kind of magic, Hypnotic, hypnotic, You’re leaving me breathless, I hate this, I hate this” and I should just write out the whole damn song.  It’s Ed’s struggle with all the relationships in his life.

"Simply the Best" by Billianne  I love this version of the song that I’m sure you’ve heard on TikTok. This song is for the bathtub scene.   (I realize there have been many “bathtub scenes” over time.  Usually they are disturbing, or creepy, or scary, or romantic.  This one is just beautiful.)  This is Stede’s heart telling Ed he loves him when he breaks through the door and tells him, “I’m your friend”.  Course, Stede doesn’t understand it’s love yet.  And it’s Ed being completely and brutally honest with Stede, and the way his cheek leans on Stede’s hand…my heart is breaking a little…again.

“I call you when I need you, my heart’s on fire, You come to me, come to me wild and wild, When you come to me, Give me everything I need…Take my heart and make it strong, baby, You’re simply the best, Better than all the rest, Better than anyone, Anyone I’ve ever met, I’m stuck on your heart, I hang on  every word you say, Tear us apart, Baby, I would rather be dead”. 

Episode 7

"Seven" by Taylor Swift

Yes, I get the hype over Taylor Swift now.  What a beautiful song, and for my angsty purposes here, it kills two sets of love birds with one stone so to speak (apologies to Carl).  

This song references childhood trauma and we certainly explore Jim’s trauma in their life as a child as well as just having learned about Ed’s dad in the previous episode.  Swift sings, “And I’ve been meaning to tell you, I think your house is haunted, Your dad is always mad and that must be why, And I think you should come live with, Me and we can be pirates, Then you won’t have to cry, Or hide in the closet”.  How perfect is that?

But the love, too, and this episode ends with love, the near kiss with Olu and Jim, the stuck snake snack scene.  “Our love will be passed on”

And there’s one little line in the song that feels like it is foretelling events, “I still got love for you, Pack your dolls and a sweater, We’ll move to India forever…Our love lasts so long.”

"Absolutely Smitten" by Dodie This song captures the joy of the back-and-forth silly banter about Blackbeard’s Bar and Grill and Other Delacacies and Delights and Fishing Equipment scene…it’s got the giddy first love feels all over it.  

“She feels her heart begin to swell, Handsome stranger, you have made her insides turn to jelly,  She wants to dance around the room, Kiss you until her lips turn blue…She’s absolutely smitten, She’ll never let you go”.



Episode 8

"Hate Myself" by Dodie We are now seriously circling the angsty drain of sadness my friends. So buckle up, more songs to cover the last 3 episodes. This song could be playing in both Stede and Ed’s minds while Calico Jack is wrecking havoc.  Ed self-doubting and sabotaging his relationship with Stede.  Stede horribly confused by his own feelings towards Ed, towards Jack, and desperate to have his Ed back.

“Could it be different?  Did I ruin the day?  Oh, do you look angry?  Oh, what did I say?  Filling in the gaps, something wrong with me, I’m getting desperate, losing my mind…When you go quiet, I hate myself”

"Dreaming With A Broken Heart" by John Mayer Again, a song for both Stede and Ed.  Ed has gone off with Jack and I imagine this song has been playing in Stede’s mind all night.  He’s put the song on replay all night long and his red-rimmed eyes say he didn’t sleep a wink (I won’t say 17-year-old-me may have put The Cure’s “Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me” album on replay all night after her little heart got broken-she feels you, Stede).  Ed, waking up, face in the sand, could have the same song playing.

“When you’re dreaming with a broken heart, The waking up is the hardest part, You roll out of bed and down on your knees, And for a moment, you can hardly breathe, Wondering, ‘Was she really here?, Is she standing in my room?’, No she’s not, ‘Cause she’s gone, gone, gone, gone, gone”

"S.O.S." by ABBA You know what, Stede?  You would feel so much better if you just came to my house and we came up with a roller skating routine to this song from a record my mom just got.  We can practice in the basement and later, we can put on a show!

“Where are those happy days, They seem so hard to find, I try to reach for you, But you have closed your mind, Whatever happened to our love?, I wish I understood, It used to be so nice, It used to be so good, So when you’re near me, Darling, can’t you hear me, S.O.S., The love you gave me, Nothing can save me, S.O.S., When you’re gone, How can I even try to go on?  (oh good lord, every lyric in this song is so perfect…and Rhys Darby learned morse code in the NZ military, so, S.O.S.) When you’re gone, Thought I try, how can I carry on?, You seemed so far away, Though you were standing near, You made me feel alive, But something died, I fear…” Every.  Word.  Is.  Perfect.

"The Chain" by Fleetwood Mac After the first time I watched this episode, I had to replay this scene again and again.  It was like watching a perfect music video on MTV’s 120 Minutes circa 1990.  And really, the more I watched, the more I was convinced this is really Izzy’s song about Ed.  So sad, for Izzy.

“Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise, Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies, And if you don’t love me now, You will never love me again, I can still hear you saying, You would never break the chain”

******foot touch****** My heart.

Episode 9

"Sparks" by Coldplay Boy are Ed and Stede in their own heads at the beginning of this episode. Stede is shaken by the news he is “dead” and the old guilt about Mary and the children begins to seep back in.  Stede tries to re-kindle the adventure dynamic that made him and Ed so happy, but Ed is floating through the up-ending of his life whilst folding stuff, and that’s OK.  Ed has made a huge sacrifice to save Stede and he’s promising, in his own way, to be there for him, no matter what.  This melancholy song could, once again, fit both our favorite pirates.   

“Did I drive you away?, I know what you’ll say, You say, ‘Oh sing one we know’, But I promise you this, I’ll always look out for you…My heart is yours, It’s you that I hold on to…I know I was wrong, But I won’t let you down…”

"Like Real People Do" by Hozier  Oh the kiss.  Oh the kiss.  Oh the kiss. I understand that Hozier wrote the song imagining a romance from one of the well preserved bog bodies pulled from a peat bog in Ireland and a live human, but Ed and Stede both consider themselves monsters of a sort, so, voila!  This is a beautiful song, and the lyrics really do fit the kiss.

“I had a thought, dear, However scary, About that night…I will not ask you where you came from, I will not ask you, neither should you, Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips, We should just kiss like real people do”

"Pink in the Night" by Mitski This is all Ed on the pier, my babies.  “Perfect Day” by Lou Reed is beautiful too, but this feels more fitting (also, fun fact, no heroine).  He’s given up everything to save Stede and now he’s flayed his heart open for the man and there he sits in the lavender sunset.  

“I glow pink in the night in my room, I’ve been blossoming alone over you, And I hear my heart breaking tonight, I hear my heart breaking tonight…I love you, I love you, I love you…and I know I’ve kissed you before, but I didn’t do it right, Can I try again, and again, and again…”

"Two Birds" by Regina Spektor

“Two birds on a wire, One tries to fly away, And the other watches him close from that wire, He says he wants to as well, But he is a liar”  

Poor Ed.  Poor Stede.  Screw you Chauncey.

Episode 10

"Stop This Train" by John Mayer Can’t listen too carefully to this one, but the sentiment is spot on.  Stede, middle aged and caught between his family and his *still can’t quite understand he is in love* Ed, thrown back into his old mindset by the bullying of Chauncey and Chauncey’s subsequent violent death, flees home.  Life is moving too quickly for him and he returns home, thinking there will be a solution.  Well, there is, I suppose.  But the consequences…oh, Ed.

“No, I’m not colorblind, I know the world is black and white, I try to keep an open mind, But I just can’t sleep on this tonight, Stop this train, I want to get off and go home again, I can’t take the speed it’s moving in, I know I can’t, But honestly, won’t someone stop this train?”

Meanwhile, consequences…

To quote Buttons, the next songs are just going to be pure tone…

ED:

"Shallows" by Daughter

“Let the water rise, Let the ground crack, Let me fall inside, Lying on my back, Lying on my back, Dry your smoke-stung eyes, So you can see the light, Staring at the sky, Watching Stars collide, Watching stars, If you leave, When I go, Find me, In the shallows”

"Where Is My Mind" covered by Maxence Cyrin- instrumental only

"Where Is My Mind?" by the Pixies

“Where is my mind?  Where is my mind?  Where is my mind?  Way out in the water, See it swimming, I was swimming in the Caribbean…Bump into me, swear he’s, Tryin’ a talk to me, say wait, wait…”

"Avalanche" by Leonard Cohen

“You who wish to conquer pain, You must learn what makes me kind, The crumbs of love that you offer me, They’re the crumbs I’ve left behind, Your pain is no credential here, It’s just the shadow, shadow of my wound, I have begun to long for you, I who have no greed, I have begun to ask for you, I who have no need, You say you’ve gone away from me, But I can feel you when you breathe”

"Monster" by Dodie

“Tell me again, About how it hurts, Being awfully loud, For an introvert, Get out of my room, Smile wiped clean, Isn’t it weird, To be so mean?, I’m guessing that I’ve grown horns, I guess I’m human no more, Oh, how easily passion twists, You think I’m a crazy bitch, I craft my words to fit your head, ‘Cause no one listens to the dead, So maybe I will talk to you, The only way I know how to, I’ve said my speech, Through sharpened teeth, You break the rules and spikes grow from your skin, Please, let the devil in”

STEDE:

"Strange" by Celeste

“Say isn’t it strange? Isn’t it strange?  I am still me, You are still you, In the same place, Isn’t it strange, How people can change, From strangers to friends, Friends into lovers, And strangers again?”

"The Night We Met" by Lord Huron

“I am not the only traveler, Who has not repaid his debt, I’ve been searching for a trail to follow again, Take me back to the night we met, And then I can tell myself, What the hell I’m supposed to do, And then I can tell myself, Not to ride along with you, I had all and then most of you, Some and now none of you, Take me back to the night we met, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Haunted by the ghost of you, Oh, take me back to the night we met”

"All I Wanted" by Paramore

“Think of me when you’re out, when you’re out there, I’ll beg you nice from my knees…All I wanted was you, All I wanted was you, I think I’ll pace my apartment a few times, And fall asleep on the couch, Wake up early to black and white re-runs, That escaped from my mouth, All I wanted was you…I could follow you to the beginning, And just to relive the start, And maybe then we’ll remember to slow down, At all of our favorite parts, All I wanted was you”

"Ready Now" by Dodie 

“You saw through me, All this time, I’d forgotten, People are kind, I was hurting, And you knew, So you showed me, What to do, You said, ‘I will listen, Tell it all, When you’re finished, We’ll talk more’, But I didn’t know how, So we took it in turns, And to my surprise, We found my words, Feet firm on the ground, We stood hand in hand, The world seemed to tell me, That I have a plan, Together, we sang, ‘I’m ready, now’”

I’m hoping that last song by Dodie ends up on my next mixtape for Ed…

And the last song leaves us all dangling over the side of the Revenge, preferably offering Lucius a hand up and into a secret compartment while Stede finds his footing on the water and Ed watches Frenchie hoist his new flag…

"Miles From Nowhere" by Yusuf/Cat Stevens

“Miles from nowhere, Guess I’ll take my time, Oh yeah, to reach there, Look up at the mountain, I have to climb, Oh yeah, to reach there…I creep through the valleys, And I grope through the woods, ‘Cause I know when I find it, my honey, It’s gonna make me feel good, I love everything, So don’t it make you feel sad, ‘Cause I’ll drink to you, my baby, I’ll think to that, yes, I’ll think to that”

[doux-amer]

My favorite books of 2022 in no particular order (well, book cover aesthetics so that this post won’t look lopsided visually)!

Babel, Or the Necessity of Violence: An Arcane History of the Oxford Translators' Revolution by R.F. Kuang

I go back and forth on how I feel about this book. I do think there is merit to the argument that it’s incredibly didactic and it doesn’t trust its readers as much as it should (but then again, you look at the world around us so maybe the heavyhandedness is necessary)—BUT I also liked it despite the things that made me ambivalent about it and I firmly believe it’s THE book of 2022. It’s the most important book of the year and more than any other novel I’ve read recently, it speaks to the truth and the times. Even if it’s not revelatory to you because, well, the subject matter is your lived experience, you feel seen and R.F. Kuang puts what you know into words so elegantly.

If you love words, if you’re fascinated by translation, and you love history, strikes, and searing critique about racism, colonialism and imperialism, etc., read this. R.F. Kuang is brilliant. Wow. What a dazzling, whip-smart mind and strong command of prose. The term “dark academia” is bandied around a lot, but this is what it should be. A disquieting look at the rot and the heartbreak that comes with loving a place that will eat you whole.

Plus, you have to read it for Ramy. I’m begging you. And if you don’t weep over the simple beauty and tragedy of [redacted] at the end of the novel, you have no soul! Just saying!

Blood, Sweat & Chrome: The Wild and True Story of Mad Max: Fury Road by Kyle Buchanan

If you love Mad Max: Fury Road, which you should, you need to read this. There are hundreds of entertaining and insightful interviews with cast and crew and you get an intimate look at every step of the production over the two decades it took to get made. When you watch MM:FR, you have no idea how it got made. Once you read this, that feeling will only deepen because HOW THE HELL did this get made and how did they all survive and not lose their minds?

Detransition, Baby by Torrey Peters

What a banger of a debut! Super provocative (not an exaggeration as you can tell by the strong reactions to it), romping good fun, and lots of heart even if everything that unfolds makes you channel Marie Kondo and exclaim, “I love mess!” Just look at the summary. It’s soap opera-y, and you know what, we should have queer drama like that too, all while carefully examining gender, motherhood, sex, family, etc. 

A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles

This is my favorite book of the year. There’s apparently a theme between this and my 2020 favorite, Piranesi, and to a lesser extent, if you really want to stretch it, my 2021 favorites. They’re about people stuck in one place in one way or another; in the case of A Gentleman in Moscow and Piranesi, literally trapped in one place. But it’s not depressing! I put this novel off for years because I thought it’d be your usual overhyped literary fiction fare that isn’t anything special and is, rather, staid and bland, but it’s SO fun and it’s funny. I love protagonists who are silly but are aware they are. Rostov is just so full of it, but he’s well-intentioned, aware of his shortcomings, and willing to learn. I wanted to be whisked far, far away and I was with Amor Towles’s witty, sparkling prose and his lovingly and intricately crafted world. This is about a man sentenced to house arrest for life in a hotel! You stick with him through decades as Russia, and by extension the world, changes dramatically beyond the doors of the hotel. They’re exciting, turbulent times and you’d think you’d be more interested in what’s going on out there, but no, the world inside is much larger and richer than you’d imagine it to be. A comfort read that I’ll return to over and over again.

Honorable mentions:

Atonement by Ian McEwan - beautiful, but I watched the movie before right before reading it and it’s the rare movie that is surprisingly a very faithful adaptation so I wasn’t as invested in it 

Beautiful Country by Qian Julie Wang - the prose is mediocre, but I can’t tell if that’s due to the inexperience of the writer or the deliberate decision to write from her child self’s perspective. Nonetheless an important read! I also kind of feel it goes into sad immigrant story territory, but it’s a disservice to reduce it to that when this dismantles the myth of the American dream thoroughly. It also gave me a doorway to a Chinatown and New York I’ve seen or only heard glimpses of but never saw (for clarity, I’m a native New Yorker who’s Asian American and I grew up with immigrant friends, relatives, classmates, and acquaintances who struggled financially, but this was beyond that; Qian highlights that difference within the immigrant/first to second gen community well)

Tanqueray by Stephanie Johnson - if you read the HONY posts, you know you’re in for a wild ride. Is it the best written book ever? No. But it’s the most fun one I read last year and Ms. Stephanie has the BEST voice. This is the rare book that made me want to listen to the audiobook and I’ll have to do it sometime. She twirls and rewinds the clock and you can envision New York in all its splendid, dirty glory back then.

[umichenginabroad]

Madrid Week 14: Chefchaouen and Reflections on Privilege (Morocco, part 3)

Hola a todxs! Niko back here with week 12/13/14 of studying abroad in Madrid, finishing up my blogs about Morocco as promised. Last time I focused on Chefchaouen’s history and sustainable tourism. This time, I wanted to talk about a specific experience I had in Chefchaouen that struck me as significant. Let’s get into it.

Getting Lost

Chefchaouen was an awesome place to visit. I got to soak in its beauty, play with stray kittens on the street corner, buy gifts and souvenirs, eat good food, all while getting to know my fellow tour group members better. The vibes were fantastic the whole time. However, there was one short, specific experience that stuck out to me the most. 

Our first day in Chefchaouen, we had a bit of free time before dinner. I decided to wander the streets aimlessly, one of my favorite ways to explore a new city. Every staircase that I found, I climbed up it. Because Chefchaouen was built on a mountainside, I figured I could get a pretty nice view of it from the higher parts of the city.

The city near the center square is lively, full of tourists, musicians, locals boasting exotic pets, and vendors selling artisan goods. It’s a bit of a sensory overload. However, as I continued to climb up staircase after staircase, things started to get quieter. Artisanal vendors were replaced with small grocery stores, the number of tourists began to dwindle, and soon enough I wandered into a neighborhood — still entirely blue, but a totally different scene.

It was about 7pm and the sun was setting; children were playing soccer and playing on top of the frame of a ruined building; mothers were watching close by and families walked slowly home with bags from the market. I only saw two other tourists along the way, everyone else was native to Chefchaouen. 

The scene was incredibly peaceful. However, as I stood at a railing overlooking the city below, I couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling that I wasn’t meant to be there. Although I was quiet, respectful of everyone’s space, and kept my camera down, I felt like an intruder nonetheless. I could feel that I stood out like a sore thumb — from my whiteness, the way that I dressed, how I carried myself. I even felt wrong acknowledging the locals with a short “salam”, that it would be best to keep my head down instead and move through these streets as if I were invisible.

As I left my post on the railing and climbed a little bit higher on the mountain, I noticed two little girls who couldn’t have been more than 12 trailing from behind. They walked to my side and I gave them a short hello. “Do you have any dirham?” one of them asked me in English, seemingly with no accent*. 

“No, I’m sorry” I replied instinctively. I did have some Dirham, but only bigger bills that I needed to save for my souvenir shopping the next day (and yes, the irony in this sentence does not escape me). She asked again respectfully, and I denied again automatically. They ran off together innocently, and I continued up the hill.

As I took a few more steps, I thought a little about what just happened, fished around in my back pocket, and found two 1 euro coins — quickly regretting not taking the time to look for them seconds before. When I turned around, the girls were gone. I had missed my chance, and I was left to think about my place in this city as I wandered back towards the touristic center, nearly getting lost multiple times as my phone struggled to track my location in the tight streets. I had a weird feeling for the rest of the night. It was new, and I couldn’t get it out of my head.

Reflections on privilege

The last thing I want to convey in this blogpost is some sort of self-serving pity for the people in this neighborhood. Something stereotypical, along the lines of “wow, I went to a third world country and saw poor children and realized how good I have it, and my whole life is now changed and I’m gonna be more thankful”. That’s one of the reasons it took me so long to write this blog — I was scared I wouldn’t quite capture the complexity of the topic and end up with a lukewarm statement telling you all what a privilege it is to be able to be a tourist. To combat this, I want to individualize my reflection as much as possible: what I’m writing applies to my experience, and I don’t want to project that onto anyone else.

Why might I have felt unwelcome here? Maybe because I perceived that neighborhood as a safe haven for locals. In general, foreigners don’t enter — and they don’t bring with them the negative things that tourists might represent. Would inflation, pollution, and overcrowding still exist with or without my presence in this neighborhood? Yes, certainly. But I felt like I stood as a physical reminder of these things to those that lived there. It’s important to distinguish that these feelings were entirely self-derived — I never got any dirty looks to directly suggest otherwise.

Another related, yet distinct reflection on this feeling: I think I was uncomfortable because I was forced to face my privilege directly. Without it, I wouldn’t be there in the first place. Because of the country, region, and family I was born into, I’ve been afforded many opportunities that many of these Chefchaouen locals never had. 

The kids around me were the starkest reminders of this. I never had to think about asking a stranger for money. I’ve always had access to any resource I needed. I’ve always had a playground to mess around on when I wanted to have fun — I never had to consider climbing on an abandoned building as a 6, 7, 8 year old.

But the kids were having a blast nonetheless. I guess it was just the hour in the neighborhood for playtime; the air was filled with joy and laughter. The visible differences between this neighborhood and the one I grew up in were stark, but the motions were all the same. Kids fooling around, families walking home with groceries, couples and individuals on an evening stroll to some unknown destination. I watched on as a young boy summited the frame. I used to do the same with trees in my backyard.

Recognizing my born privilege took a long time, having grown up in my wealthy Northern Virginia neighborhood in the USA my entire life with a limited amount of meaningful outside contact. It took getting older, moving away from home, and thinking critically about my relative economic position in the country and the world to recognize where I was at, economically. In many ways, life has just been easier for me, and I had to confront my ego to admit this to myself. Thinking about other core pieces of my identity — race, gender, sexual orientation — extended this further.

Understanding my born privilege is a step further from recognition, and one that I think I can only gain through experience. It requires an understanding of those in a different place than me, in a way that attempts to capture their complexities at a level that is as deep as those that I recognize in myself. With this, I can grasp my privilege in a humanized and informed context. Then, I can decide what I want to do next.

Now, taking a step back. Has this experience — feeling uncomfortable as a tourist in a peaceful Moroccan neighborhood — captured this complexity, unlocking a deep understanding of my relative privilege, informing my morality and the way I move through the world as a global citizen? No. But it gave me a strong feeling that I was compelled to write about in this blog, so here we are. And I think I learned something. 

I wished I had stopped to talk to the girls that asked me for money before they were gone. Maybe now I have the self-awareness necessary to overcome my learned instinct to ignore. Next time, I’ll make a more conscious decision, aligned with the person I want to be (something that I’m figuring out. Clearly).

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

Phew. This was a really tough blog to write. Imagine me sitting on an airplane staring off into space, arms curled up like a T-Rex (no space in front of me) with a constipated look on my face. I struggled to extract meaning from this feeling and experience at first, but hey we got somewhere. I did my best given the time and energy that I have available (gotta start studying for finals), and I’m proud that I landed somewhere. Writing about complex topics is a skill to be sharpened in itself, something that I think I’ve grown a lot with with these blogs.

Overall, touring Northern Morocco was a wonderful experience chalk-full of opportunities for distinct cultural learning and personal growth. I want to go back to see Marrakech, Fez, and Casablanca, and I want to meet and learn from more Moroccans. If I keep up with the travel blogging after this semester, maybe you’ll hear from me about it the next time I visit.

I hope you all have a wonderful rest of your week! I was gonna say happy almost summer solstice, but it’s not until June 20th, so nevermind. Happy spring!

Adios,

Niko Economos

Aerospace Engineering

Universidad Carlos III de Madrid

Madrid, Spain

economos@umich.edu 

*It was surprising at first to hear a girl so young speaking English so well. I don’t know the extent of her abilities, but it’s interesting to think about how she ended up there. I did a project in my Cultural Imaginaries class about American cultural imperialism (maybe I’ll write about it at some point). We talked about the global influence of America that stems from the huge reach of its products, entertainment, etc. Language is one of these influences.

[ithisatanytime]

Bladee - BBY (music video)

 who in history (not within the last hundred years, so that still affords ten thousand or so years of recorded history around the world to draw from) is the most famous child molester you can recall, ten seconds go! name one famous child molester from history! GO! GO! GO!

you cant name one, because nobody gave a shit really and i dont give a shit. if i found out my neighbor, or my literal best friend, was tricking PREPUBESCENT boys or girls into sinning, well it would be better for them to have a milstone tied around their neck and for them to be cast into the sea. i would fucking murder them and go to prison with a smile on my face, but this preoccupation with it is a modern jewish invention, i know i know “but jews are the biggest child molesters around!” and look what theyve done, theyve made it so i just dont want to hear about it, or rape or any sexual crimes of men, which all women UNIVERSALLY are preoccupied with. its not something the vast majority of men through all of history gave a single thought to and neither should i, now chris evans is a child molester for fucking a 22 year old and blah blah blah! what happens is that when women start entering their mid twenties they run smack dab into the consequences of their actions and realize that even if you convince everyone in the world to speak as though things arent the way they are, you cannot as easily convince them to ACT as though things arent that way. 

  teenage girls are sexy, they arent just sexy they are the SEXIEST! they are far more sexy, a fifteen year old girl is far better looking than an eighteen year old even, and people reach sexual maturity when the reach sexual maturity, wow! and your entire family tree would vanish from existence if your forefathers and mothers had bought into the modern jewish conception of romance and love. YOUTH has always been paramount for women while for men its STATUS. lets pretend youth isnt the primary measure of beauty in women, would you agree that the average man if given the choice between a virgin and a women who had several previous partners, all other things being equal would not choose the virgin? you can lie if you want but ill pretend you told the truth, is it possible for someone to lose experience as they age? of course its not possible, so then if men care at all about the number of sexual partners a woman has, than youth again is held paramount simply because chastity is important for men when choosing a partner. 

  i fell in love when i was 16 and im still in love with her now, though she no longer be 14, but i still remember and i remember fondly the shape of her, at what age was i meant to be disgusted and horrified by the memory of her body? think about this well, if none of my other points struck true with you think about this one only, at what age, was i supposed to remember my fondest memories and be nauseated by her youth? its fucking absurd, and i wont pretend even for a second it isnt. 

 would i as a thirty four year old man fuck a 14 year old woman now? no because they arent my wife, my wife is no longer fourteen but 32, i wont fuck a 14 year old or a 24 year old or a 33 year old for that reason and that reason ONLY. but biology is not arbitrary, and if it caused the animal some harm to mate and reproduce at a certain age biology would not make them capable of doing so, and it especially would not flood them with hormones that make them want to do so at that time more than any other time in their entire lives, natural selection would have sorted out that blunder in a matter of one or two generations! why do teenaged girls develop full breasts long before reaching the arbitrarily decided on age of majority? first you must know why women develop full breasts, it is not as you might believe to feed infants, no mammal has full breasts year round but human women, their breasts fill with milk once they are pregnant and at no other time. womens breasts remain full all year round because we walk upright, they are unsurprisingly a sexual display (this is accepted science not my opinion) so why would they develop these at 14? 

 the song of solomon says not to eat of the fruits until they are ripe, and thats good enough for me, its not arbitrary its OBVIOUS when the fruits are ripe. every man, all men, all healthy men, every man you know or will ever know, is attracted strongly to teenage girls but is compelled by intense fear and stigma to lie about it publicly, im not gonna do that. women and jews can eat shit. and all men having this secret desires, knowing privately they are apparently the worst kind of monster imaginable a child molester, how are they going to react hearing about ACTUAL fucking monsters fucking ACTUAL fucking kids? more sympathetically. thats the trick, its jews as usual with womens help as usual, and as usual they can eat shit, i will resist the attitude unto death even, i will throw my bones in the cogs of their machines just so i could temporarily inconvenience them, i will make it so they MUST kill me and send me straight to my father in heaven as a martyr with my soul intact. and i will ogle 14 year old boobies and say out loud and proudly “DAYYYUM!” 

[denimbex1986]

"Well I think with every film, if I've done my job right, you're left with interesting questions at the end of it, and in the case of Tenet, the reference to Oppenheimer, the reference to this incredible moment in history where the scientists of the Manhattan project could not completely rule out the possibility of a chain reaction that would destroy the entire world when they set off that first device - the gadget as they call it; that just stayed with me. I mean we use it as a metaphor in Tenet for a science fiction conceit, but it stayed with me and I wanted to take the audience there. I wanted to be there in that room myself and imagine what is it like to push that button, knowing that there's even the smallest possibility that you might be ending life on earth."

"And they still push it. Well, they felt they had no choice, and the more I found out about this story, the more that really seemed to be the case; that they were in this extraordinary race against the Nazis to try and harness this power that all scientists around the world knew was possible."

"...for me, one of the big differences between movies and any other medium like television or radio, whatever, is endings and the way in which the story has to, to end; it's not a continuing story, it's not episodic - we need a complete experience, a full meal, and so as filmmakers, we're, we're always thinking about we're leaving people with because in a way that's - it's very important how we begin, but it's very, very important what we leave people with; and I try to craft an ending for each film that, that suits the subjects, suits the story and hopefully has resonance. I think resonance really for me is the thing; I want people thinking about the film after they've seen it, then - then I feel like I've done my job right."

"Wow, well you know we didn't have IMAX on the, the early films; we didn't have it for Batman Begins for example, certainly you know, the first time you see the Batmobile and that whole car chase, which we put our hearts and souls into - it would have been really fun to, to actually do that on IMAX, although we were able to blow it up and present it that way for audiences. But shooting on that, the format, it gives you clarity and crispness that just takes you to a place, and so really in any of my films, whether it's giant vistas or exciting action set pieces or you know, in the case of Oppenheimer, there's a lot that as you say it's quiet, personal moments; it's just being with somebody and feeling that, that you're in their, their space and seeing the world the way you know, J. Robert Oppenheimer saw the world."

"I think you know I've done a lot of large-scale practical effects; they come together on Oppenheimer in the Trinity Test which we knew had to be a showstopper and had to have the beauty but also the threat and the danger that would have been felt watching that take place, and I think that probably the single, most influential for me was the truck flip on LaSalle that you refer to because I had an idea in my head for what I wanted to do, and at first everybody felt that it was too difficult, too complicated to do for real. And we started looking at visual effects solutions and then over time, the great team that I put together, the special effects guys, you know Chris Corbould did all the Bond movies and everything, they came around to: "No, there is a way to do this" and they came to me and they showed me how it could be done. And from that I learned that if you challenge people and if you come to them early enough, and in the case of Oppenheimer I, I went to Andrew Jackson who is doing visual effects, Scott Fisher on special effects and said to them right from the beginning: "Let's show the first atomic bomb without using computer graphics; let's find real ways to photograph this so that the audience can get that particularly hypnotic and dangerous feeling that you would have had watching the first example of, of nuclear fire that, that had ever been unleashed.""

[corndoggod]

The Mets

The rain looked worse on the big screen than in real life. In real life it was slow and soft, like Christmas in Midtown, but it wasn’t even May yet. We had nosebleed tickets so fortunately we were protected from the rain.

When they called a rain delay in the fifth inning, the ground crew jogged out carrying a couple of huge white tarps and rolled them out over the diamond dirt to shield it from the elements. “I feel like that’s who I am,” C said pointing at the grounds crew. “That’s the kind of jobs I’ve been doing.”

I barely heard her. I was a little high and staring intently at the perfectly mowed lawn -- admiring the maintained symmetry and trying to accept my narrowed life. I was 30 and it felt like the world had finished sorting itself out. I climbed up a few rungs but this was where I landed, no higher, and I’d have to fight to keep this spot.

“You’re posed so serious,” C said as I leered over the stadium. “You look like a dad.”

“I’m a sad dad,” I said and she snorted because earlier I sent her a New Yorker profile called “The Sad Dads of The National.” In the writer’s words, the band emulated “the sort of rudderless melancholy that takes hold when a person realizes that the dusty hallmarks of American happiness (marriage, children, a job in an office) aren’t a guarantee against despair.” And singer-songwriter Matt Berninger described “Mistaken for Strangers,” one of their earlier albums and my personal favorite, as grappling with the “unmagnificient lives of adults.” I was beginning to see the full power of forces like inertia and history, and recognizing I was at their mercy.

“Jonathan Majors is 33, and I’m 30,” I said. It was supposed to rain all weekend so in the third we looked up what was playing at IFC and Metrograph. The Last Black Man in San Francsico caught C’s eye. “You know he’s under investigation for domestic assault,” I said. And so we googled him and I saw his age. And I thought of his life decisions against mine, his bank statement against mine. I did not think of our happiness.

“And earlier in the day I drafted an awards press release for best journalists under 35.”

I needed to start writing again. I couldn’t even find my notebook, which tells you how long it’d been. But I promised to jumpstart my writing via a live journal of my nights and weekends out, my solo biking adventures and day dates with C in the city.

Fans marched down, but we stayed to finish our $20 beers. C told C and T about grad school programs, and choosing between something that is more career-focused in Spain or an art pratice / theory program in the Netherlands. C was a PhD art history candidate at CUNY and T was a painter, who was about to leave his grant-given studio in the World Trade Center for a month-long artist residency in northern Italy.

I just listened and took notes. I was a little drunk and amused, feeling detached and uncritical, made the world glide by much easier. I was thinking about upstate property values and how the only way to come out ahead was to hold out.

We decided to take a cab back to Sharlene’s in Brooklyn. We ordered a Lyft that never arrived and C talked down a cabbie from $80 plus tip to $70 flat and we all piled in.  

On the drive back, T marveled at LaGuardia’s renovations, “You guys seeing this? Is that LaGuardia? Wow, it looks like the MoMa.”

“Have you ever been to Singapore airport?” the cabbie said.

“I’ve only been to Charles du Gaulle.”

“It’s beautiful. There’s a park inside.”

“A park? Inside? Wow. Have you been to Atlanta’s airport?”

“No.”

“It doesn’t look so nice, but I hear it’s the busiest airport.”

“What’s your favorite airport?”

“JFK,” the cabbie said without needing to think. “Very organized.”

After a long pause T said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been to an airport I liked.”

The cabbie wasn’t a great driver. He worked the breaks in bursts as if it were a sewing pedal and we jerked to a stop five times before resting. Meanwhile, C and C talked about life’s crossroads. The challenges of making art in the city. The vaulted conundrum of leaving New York.

After another long pause, the cabbie said, “What’s the sweetest language?”

“The sweetest language?”

“Yeah, you know. Sweet. Language.”

“I don’t know. What do you mean by ‘sweet’? Like nice?”

“Nice, yes. Sweet.” and then the cabbie shouted into his phone, “What country sweetest language in the world.” He looked down at his phone expectantly, but it just sat there.

Then he turned to T and smiled. “I know sweetest language. Bangladesh. Listen here.” And he played a song for us in his native tongue, which turned out to be the intro to a TV show.

“This is sick.’’

“Incredible.”

“This is really sick.”

“I’m obsessed.”

“Ok, this is actually really sick.”

The language was so sickly sweet the cabbie had trouble focusing on the road and his eyes kept flitting back to the nectar screen.

When we arrived, I handed him $70 cash and marched to Antonio’s for a slice of pizza. But they all turned down a staircase to enter a pool hall.

“This place sucks. What happened to Sharlene’s?” But they cajoled me and I relented. I got us a tray of balls and we played the most expensive pool game of my life for $50. But at least I won.

[financialsmatter]

How Surfing Teaches You About Investing

Like every natural occurring cycle in the world, surfing teaches you more about investing than you realize. And when you understand the simplicity of natural cycles – like waves in the ocean – your investment decisions will soar. Unfortunately, most people rely on their emotions and default mechanisms like, “I just have a good feeling about…” And when their “good feeling” becomes a nightmare, they’ll be the first to blame the market for their mistake. Sound familiar? Anyway, after a fun session of surfing the other day, I sat on the sand with my wife “Gawking at the ocean” and commented on how surfing can teach you a lot about investing. My wife – who’s probably heard me make the same reference hundreds of times before – said, “Really? How does that work?” * (* Note: I have a great wife who constantly inspires me to write emails, posts, newsletters, etc.). I explained to her – with several stories that she’s heard often in the past – how waves in the ocean are like waves in the stock market. And that most people look at waves/surfers and think: “Wow, that’s beautiful,” or “That looks like fun,” or “That seems dangerous.” But when most people look at the stock market – especially when the markets are volatile and falling – they only say “That Seems Dangerous.” And the fear of getting “Wiped-Out” will keep most investors sitting on the sand (in money market funds) watching the few brave surfers get the ride of their lives. Let Surfing Teach You… Surfers – like most seasoned investors – understand the terminology risk vs reward. And – like most surfers – seasoned investors welcome the opportunity of riding giant waves in the market. Why? Because they both understand how cycles work. And that’s another reason why we’re still in The Most Hated Bull Market in History. Keep in mind that you don’t have to be a surfer in order to understand the connection between surfing and investing. However, on the flip side, being a smart investor doesn’t mean you’ll be a good surfer. But…and this is a Very Big Butt… Dynamics of Waves Knowing the dynamics and subtleties of waves– both physically and metaphorically – will cause your investment results to soar. And you can read how (in detail) in our upcoming October issue of “…In Plain English” (HERE). Don’t you think it’s time you upgrade to our Premium Content (HERE)? Share this with all your friends…especially if they love the ocean. And tell them: We’re Not Just About Finance. FYI ************************************ Invest with confidence. Sincerely, James Vincent The Reverend of Finance Copyright © 2022 It's Not Just About Finance, LLC, All rights reserved. You are receiving this email because you opted in via our website. Read the full article

[hansolmates]

a hero’s journey (m)

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

prompt used: “I should’ve known.”

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

It’s so easy to ignore the world. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe a little too well. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wow. So that explains everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Understandable.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But honestly? Fuck Jisoo. 

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

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

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

“Sounds good, thanks Joonie.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nevermind, get out of my apartment.” 

“Uh, this is my apartment.” 

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

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

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

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

“Remember Jeon Jungkook? Majored in graphic design.”

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

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

A pause. And then, “Want a beer?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re running away.” 

“Am not.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, yeah.” 

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

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

“You miss her?” 

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

“Did you talk about it?” 

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

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

“And are you trying to get over him?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

“But it works!” 

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

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

“Bumble.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or are you? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? I can pay for my own food—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I allowed to state my opinion?” 

“Since you asked so politely, no.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, he’s your fuck buddy then?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Namjoon holds out his hand, “Hand.” 

“No—”

“Hand.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pizza also sounds good—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do I want to know?”

“No.” 

“Do you want me to leave?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m home, Jungkookie!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

vernie bernie: or a tickle to my pickle? 

vernie bernie: beatin ya bean? 

You: ohmyGOD 

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

You: call. Ill come after dinner

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey Pretty Girl–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only recently,” you frown. 

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

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

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

“Because I wanted to protect you!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you still love him?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey Pretty Girl—

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

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

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

Hopefully yours, Jungkook

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’cha got there, partner?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey Pretty Boy...

Jungkook and Jisoo are no longer together, evidently. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi: come inside, u loser. 

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

You: dw i’ll wait, it’s only 11:50

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—coming along?” 

“Wha?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mean by what?” 

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

“Well, we’re here now, right?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook,” you whine, “read mine.” 

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

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

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

“I’m on page eighty-three.” 

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

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

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

“Yes ma’am.” 

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

“I wish you did, too.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook…” 

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

“Jungkook—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

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

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

“Please, baby.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

some time later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then the hotel room?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

“You know I love you, right?” 

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

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

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

“You’re terrible.” 

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

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