#but baby needs to not be reminded that she has her entire life ahead of her or else baby might lose her marbles

[henreyettah]

Hello! Fellow teacher here. Feel free not to answer this publicly, it's just me giving out advice.

Tips for the voice: sing on your way to school to warm up your vocal cords and avoid drinking cold drinks because they can hurt your throat/vocal cords when you're talking a lot.

Also, it just comes with practice. I used to get a really sore throat by the end of the day, but now I can pretty much shout for several hours and I am fine. You could definitely use things like bells or whistles or anything that makes a loud noise (like a buzzer) to get their attention instead of shouting. I always do a countdown from 3 to 1.

Also, don't use your phone in lessons 😉

Love your art, btw 💙

Can't do the singing thing because I take the train :( sounds like a good idea tho!

Thankfully theres not that much lecturing involved in being an art teacher here, so I haven't had any issues with a sore throat (yet). Makes sense to avoid cold beverages!

My teacher at the school claps her hands when she wants the students to pay attention to her, I've thought about doing that too but idk it seems so abrasive and rough? too sudden, especially when the students are relaxed and not expecting loud noises? idk man it feels mean to suddenly take up sound space 😭😭(this is the swede in me talking btw)

I'm on desktop during classes because the teachers here are constantly on their laptops when they're not actively teaching, so no worries about that!

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for 🦄; obligatory sugar baby Kon. ( + non-chrono link for mobile users )

“Hey, Secret,” Tim says, thinking longingly of Superman-appropriate death-traps. “Sorry I didn’t call ahead, I didn’t think you’d be here.” 

“That’s okay, it’s just nice to see you!” she says, beaming brightly at him. Tim, unfortunately, is reminded of Kon for literally no reason except that he really is just down that bad for the bastard, apparently. God, he’s going to embarrass himself so much over this situation, isn’t he. Just so, so much. “What are you doing?” 

“Just picking something up quick,” Tim says. “I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.” 

“Oh,” she says, looking disappointed. “Um, okay.” 

. . . Tim is possibly an asshole, he recognizes. 

“Thought I might do a few security checks first, if you don’t mind the company,” he attempts, and Suzie immediately lights up again. 

“No!” she says excitedly, clasping her hands together. “No, I don’t mind! Do you want some snacks while you work? I’ll get you some!” 

Tim might be an asshole, yeah. 

“That’s okay, I already ate,” he says, and smiles at her. “Just keep me company for a little bit, maybe? Running the diagnostics gets boring, sometimes.” 

“Okay!” Suzie says, still beaming at him. 

Tim runs a bunch of unnecessary diagnostic checks and also checks the hardware connections, and Suzie tells him all about the places she’s been visiting. She sounds pretty pleased about them, so that’s good, he figures. Of course, Kon didn’t sound bothered by the Cadmus thing either, so . . . 

Yeah, they need to work on getting her completely off the DEO’s radar and into a more sustainable long-term living situation as soon as possible. And maybe figuring out . . . he’s not sure, exactly, but some way to help her look enough like a normal human to pass for one. A holo-projector, maybe, or an illusion spell. Something like that. 

Why does he have a friend in this situation? Why does he have multiple friends in this situation? 

Maybe he'll pick a cul-de-sac in an area he can, like, take over once he goes supervillain. Just lock it down and make it his territory first thing. Maybe buy up the local buildings one by one and make it all nice and legal and a pain in the ass for the local government and whatever cops survive the GPCD getting blown up to argue with, even. 

Unfortunately that’d make him a landlord, which is a little more evil than he really wanted to go, but desperate times and all. 

“So are you, um . . . seeing anyone right now, Robin?” Suzie asks, twisting a whorl of her smoky hair through her fingers and biting her lip. Tim isn't sure why she's asking, so can only assume she's run out of conversation topics and is fumbling for small talk. 

“Well . . . kind of,” he says as he fakes his way through another entirely unnecessary hardware check, because he can't actually tell her any real details about his life, no, but dating Kon is not actually a part of his life that Bruce has any idea about, so . . . well, there's nothing to tie back to him if he does, is there? And–well, he'd like to talk about it a little, maybe. “Or I just started seeing someone, I mean. It's a recent development.”

[gentrychild]

MHA AU where when Touya attacked baby Shouto he managed to kill him

You are very cruel but you're not the only one who decided to kill Shouto through the ask game.

1 - While Endeavor intercepted Touya like he did in canon, Touya still flooded the entire hallway with fire. Rei managed to survive thanks to her ice but the heat and the sudden lack of oxygen was still too much for baby Shouto, who died.

2 - Rei is rushed to the hospital, along with baby Shouto (even though it's not necessary anymore in his case). She survives her wounds but she is heavily injured and will have to spend several years hospitalized to recover.

3 - Shouto's body is whisked away by a certain scientist who doesn't believe in letting potentially powerful quirks go to waste and who is good at pulling frankenstein-like-miracles but that's a story for another day.

4 - Even though Endeavor tries to prevent it because he doesn't want to lose another son along with his wife, Touya is sent to juvie. He plays the "accident" as him losing control of his quirk in a moment of anger. He is very good at pretending he regrets what he did and a few years later, he is allowed to go back home. His record is sealed because he is a young man with a brilliant quirk who has his life ahead of him, most of his family learns to buy in the "This was a terrible tragedy caused by the stress of quirk marriage + Touya's quirk problem + Endeavor in general", and he gets to go to a hero school. The family is still fractured, with Fuyumi and Natsuo booking it out of the house as soon as they are 18 and Rei never setting a foot back there.

5 - Years later, Touya starts to get haunted by a teenager that reminds me of the rival he eliminated years ago. That's not a problem, though. He got rid of Shouto, he would get rid of this creepy kid if he crosses the line. He just needs not to get caught.

[fizzigigsimmer]

Fargo Season 5: Gator Speculation

Y’all I am starting to fear for this man’s life. 😂 If you have not watched episode 5 yet, warnings for spoilers ahead.

So my theory that Gator and Dot may have previously been romantically involved went from an itch based on tiny clues that might have been circumstantial, to a full on burn last night.

Up until now we haven’t had any confirmation of Dot/Nadine’s age. The actress is only a few years older than Joe, but Hollywood is notoriously gross about women not looking their age, so it was entirely possible Juno was playing much older than she actually is. But now we know Dot was a teenager when she was brought into Roy’s little cult and when she married him.

For me that pretty much confirms that she and Gator are peers, and that he was a teenager when his father married a child near his own age. 🤢

Another thing that went from an itch to a burn for me: During the home invasion, when Dot first sees Gator she says “shame on you there’s a baby in this house”. This struck me because it’s the first time that I can recall Dot using such infantile language to refer to her daughter. While it’s not strange at all or uncommon for people to infantilez children in general, typically that kind of perspective becomes part of your regular speech patterns. “Gotta get home to my babies” that sort of thing. But to my memory Dot has always referred to Scotty with very particular language, possessive language at that. Scotty is always her child, her cub - and they even have her remind us there isn’t anything a mother lion wouldn’t do to protect her cub.

Dot might have chosen to refer to Scotty as a baby in that moment out of calculation, in the hopes that it would prick Gator’s conscience - which naturally infers that she has reason to believe he has one to work over. It also can’t be ruled out either that the specific use of the word baby was an unconscious slip, due to her shock and the vulnerability of the moment. Because the last time she saw Gator she was pregnant with what might be his baby.

The other hint we got this week is Dot confirming that Roy is an abusive piece of shit. She says something along the lines of what is obvious about Roy - that when he’s happy and feels in control things were good, but the minute he feels challenged or insecure he’d hit her and climb all over her just to feel strong again. Only when she’s describing this behavior she specifically uses the word ‘they’. They don’t hit you at first. “They” turn on you and push you down when they need to feel strong.

Now of course, Dot could just be talking about men in general. Men like Roy. But well, Gator IS a man like Roy. He’s desperately trying to walk in his father’s shoes and be all of the things he’s not, and he lashes out on other people to build himself up. We know from his own lips what he did to another teenager who accidentally injured him during a high school football game and stole his (most likely imagined) future in football. Given how close he and Dot are in age and all the hints that we have that he feels something for her, I think it’s highly likely that something happened between them.

I think it’s very possible that they connected, and were able to be vulnerable with each other. Gator seems just as surprised that Dot has become a “tiger” as Dot was that he has become his daddy’s lacky. I think in the past, at first they were able to find comfort in each other and things were good but eventually Gator did something that scared Dot and she decided to run.

At this point, I am confident at the very least that Gator’s feelings for/about Dot are romantic. Whether or not Dot has ever reciprocated them is still 50/50 for me. Regardless I think Gator held a candle for her and that as the tensions rise in the final episodes and he sees just how far Roy is willing to go to hurt and control her it’s going to force him to take a hard look at Roy, the kind of man and father he is, and really ask himself if that’s what he wants to be.

The part that scares me is Roy. Because when he’s in control and he feels like he has power over you, he’s loving. But the minute you do something to rock the boat… 😩 I have this really bad feeling that Gator is going to make an effort to be his own man, just in time to learn a final lesson about just what type of monster he narrowly avoided becoming. That scene with the blindfold and the rope keeps coming back to me.

Of course, my anxieties about that little clip aside there is always the possibility of the narrative going full Shakespeare on us. Gator, bringing about the downfall of his father’s kingdom by falling in love with his step mother and killing his father. 👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾 Full on Oedipus.

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Warning: Venting, moaning, and spoilers ahead. Enter at own risk.

You know, after watching 73 Yards I had a LOT that I wanted to write about. Stuff about the themes like abandonment, but also about science fiction vs fantasy, the need for answers vs the desire never to know, eerie atmosphere vs cool rationality, blah, blah, blah.

But I’m a week too late. That’s old news now, it’s Dot and Bubble time. And I don’t have the time and energy to say much except…

OMG! Did RTD always have such an unrelentingly bleak and cruel vision of human nature??? I mean, okay, we had a woman heroically staying to take care of babies in the goofy first ep, but we also had a world that would abandon a bunch of babies to die. And the last two episodes…

73 Yards depressed me in a way no Doctor Who ever has. I’ve seen every episode that still exists, seen the recons of the lost, listened to every Big Finish audio over it’s first 14 or so years, and read the “wilderness years” novels like popcorn. I mean, I have absorbed so damn many Doctor Who stories in every medium that I wouldn’t know how to count them. Some were dark. Some were depressing. Some were miserable in every way.

But this….

73 Yards made me wonder if there was no damn point in me keeping on living.

Ruby’s plight resonated far too deeply.

Alone and upset she makes the mistake of stepping of going into pub where the locals, in a display of cruelty **that reminded me why I never go into small local places, deliberately scared and then mocked her. Then her life gets soooo much worse as everyone she loves and everyone she turns to for help ends up turning on her. She isn’t merely abandoned, she is treated with complete disgust and with not even a hint of compassion to soften it. She is haunted by the “ghost” of herself, an embodiment of both a mistake of her past and her future death. This “ghost” becomes her only companion as her life speeds on to the always lonely grave. Every birthday is her all alone, no friends, no family, just her and her always distant “ghost” self. And then she grows old and “dies”. Always alone…

99% of my time is alone. I have no friends to turn to. Every friend I ever got close to ended up leaving me. Heck, even online friends always just go away without a trace. I’m in a rural area where the community I’ve lived my entire life had never made me feel included. Back in school once a year I’d get shunned for not being a Christian as they rediscovered it, and the rest of the time there was mere bullying, mocked and belittled, for all the other things that marked me as an outcast. My family were outcasts too, for that matter. My family, where Mom is the only one left who loves me, just a frail voice on a phone I can no longer reach out to. My brother has openly wished me dead and doesn’t want me setting foot in his home, telling me constantly how worthless and disgusting he finds me. Everyone else I’ve loved is dead or gone away. Every birthday is alone, and I’m increasingly aware I’m spiraling to my own death…

No one. Never anyone. Never able to make new friends. Doomed to isolation unto death. No friends. No family. No help. Just me and…..me.

Yeah, it got to me. Ruby gets a moment of using her pain for good, and the reward of a do over. But that’s fiction. My “ghost” self offers no chance to do good, and when I die I will simply rot away (or burn, if whoever gets stuck with disposal duty decides to cremate me. They’d probably just flush me down toilet if I would fit! LOL)

And I thought, ok, maybe that’s just me. Maybe most people won’t feel borderline suicidal as escapist entertainment rubs salt in very open wounds.

But then I thought about the harsh cruelty of the world in the story, the complete lack of warmth and hope. Hell, our heroine stands by and lets a young woman get (strongly suggested) abused by a man she KNOWS is a baddie simply because she needs to prove that that baddie is bad enough to deserve what she is about to do. So even Ruby is a terrible person deep down, tainted by a world devoid of love to the point of treating people as test subjects.

Okay, this is bleak stuff. Great episode, even if I am ambivalent about that all fantasy/no explanations take on Doctor Who.( It also joins things like Grave of the Fireflies on my “Great but NEVER watch again!” list. ) But it’s surely won’t be so dark next time.

Oh dear.

So in Dot and Bubble we get a world of the young and privileged living in their social media bubbles (oh, very subtle), completely unable to function in the real world to the point of being unable to walk.

Okay, that’s not bleak. A bit cynical and harsh, kicking an easy target, but dark comedy material. And the obnoxious gal we are following will surely come to her senses, learn to connect with people, will be grateful for help, and…

Oh. OH!

This is THAT kind of story. Where we are reminded that people are essentially selfish and shallow, where they do things against their own best interests out of things like snobbishness, and the one decent human being we meet is doomed to death by betrayal.

Okay, now the question is, which do I find bleaker. The “you are doomed to always be isolated” episode or the “most people don’t even deserve help” episode.

People complained about the ending of Boom being sappy, but TBH it was kinda a relief for Moffat to pop in and say “Ok, look, love will give you at least a pseudo happy ending now and then. Now don’t go slitting your wrists at the utter nastiness out there…”

And the RTD whispers “I’m not saying slit your wrists, I’m just saying that if you do no one will care. The hysterical laughter at snot monsters and musical diva gods is just the universe having a nervous breakdown in the dark, but that’s fun, isn’t it?”

I’m not saying I think these episodes are awful! Just to be clear, I’ve enjoyed stuff about all of them! I haven’t hated any of them (No, not even Space Babies with their poor little freaked out faces and ill fitting CG mouths creeping me out) And if you don’t feel depressed after these recent episodes I’m very glad. Really. I just wish I had YOUR brain!

It’s funny, after an era where I complained (quietly) about poor writing I am now complaining (loudly) about the horrible mood the better writing is putting me in!

Yes, I will keep watching, trying to hold onto whatever light I can in the darkness. But I can’t say I’m looking forward to being miserable every time. I’m not sure I’m actually having fun. My life sucks enough lately, and Doctor Who making me feel worse is something I NEVER expected to have to deal with.

**Note to self: be glad you can NEVER go to Wales! Yeah, my grandma had a penpal from Wales. It was a lovely old lady she met while they both rested on a bench in the Smithsonian Natural History Museum. I met her and she was quite nice, even as little me withered in shame hearing grandma, in her lifelong childlike innocence, tell an embarrassing detail about me. I rationally know people from Wales are just people. But after that pub scene…

[deanwinchesterswitch]

The Girlfriend Who Remade Christmas

Part Six: Take the Freeway Down

Square: Road Trip ~ @spnchristmasbingo

Song: Run, Run Rudolph ~ Lynyrd Skynyrd

Pairing: Dean x Nicole {Nico/Nic} OFC

Summary: Nicole is reminded of how annoying Dean can be when he’s stuck riding shotgun. Challenges and frustration threaten to derail the journey before it’s barely begun.

Warnings: Angst, A bit of fluff, Implied sex, Language, Canon divergence

Word Count: 3,727

Beta: @princessmisery666

Credit: The stunning title card and dividers were made by @talesmaniac89.

Author’s Note: I promise good times lay ahead. 

Series Master Post

“Awesome!” She pulls him into another hug, “You can do anything you set your mind to, Dean,” then steps back after a quick peck on his cheek and points toward the table. “Pack your gear. We’re headed out in ten.”

“What? Now?”

“Yep. I packed your duffle while you were in the shower. The car is stocked with our favorite snacks and ready to roll.” 

She smiles broadly, her voice buzzing with excitement, but he stands frozen in place, feeling somewhat ambushed. “What if I had said no?” The smile falters, and the sparkle in her eyes diminishes, making him wish he hadn’t said anything. Biting his lip, he turns his head, not wanting to see the disappointment that he caused.

“Hey.” Her voice is as gentle as her touch, and he leans into the hand on his cheek as she urges him to meet her gaze. “Dean?” 

Nic’s other hand strokes along his upper arm while she waits for him to look at her or say something. He feels a little like a petulant child but knows he’s being ridiculous. Nic never has and never would demean him or his feelings. A quiet moment passes, and he finally turns to face her. Instead of discontentment, he is met with a warm smile and a perceptive stare. 

The moment his eyes meet hers, she declares, “I would have unpacked the car, and we would have devoured the snacks during a movie marathon. You know I would never willingly do anything to hurt you, and I’m not going to force you into anything.” Delicate fingers trace the shell of his ear, smooth palm coming to rest against his neck, as her softly calloused thumb strokes his jawline. “I’m asking you to keep an open mind, but the entire trip is about you …for you. If you don’t want to do something, we won’t do it. If you want to come back home, we will come back home.”

“Simple as that?” he breathes, chest tight with apprehension.

“Simple as that.”

Not for the first time, and most probably not for the last, he marvels at what a lucky son of a bitch he is to have her in his life. “Okay.” the agreement bursts from him in a rush of air, and a tiny ripple of excitement shimmers deep in his chest.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” He squeezes her shoulder, adding with a little more enthusiasm, “Let’s do it!”

“Alright. I’ll grab the things you need from the bathroom while you get all this together.’ With a quick pat on his arm, she heads out of the library. “Meet me in the garage.”

Dean walks into the garage with a minute to spare. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. We’re not taking Baby?”

Closing the hatch on her Jeep, she turns to face him. “No.”

“How can you call it a road trip, then?”

Taking the camera bag from him, she places it on the passenger side backseat and walks around the front of the vehicle. “You know I love Baby, but you rarely let me drive her, and you don’t know where we’re going.” She holds up a hand, “No, I’m not telling you. It’s a surprise.”

“But-”

“You’re working for me, remember? Besides, we’re going to need the 4-wheel drive.”

“Where the hell are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise.” Pulling a cassette from her back pocket, she tosses it to him to try and forestall further questions. “I made you a mixtape for the trip.”

Lips pursed, his brow furrows as he reads the label. “Christmas rock?”

“Only a few are Christmas songs.” She shrugs. “I think you’ll like them, though, especially the one by Corey Taylor.”

“Who?”

“The guy from Slipknot.” Adding, as he nods, “That one’s right up your alley at the moment.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll understand when you listen to it,” she teases. “Come on. I wanna get on the road.”

Dean looks longingly at the Impala as he passes by, running a hand over her hood. “Sorry, Baby, the boss is being a bit of a tyrant.”

Laughing as she rolls her eyes, Nic climbs into the Jeep, quietly elated that Dean agreed to the trip. She knows she blindsided him, especially with the quick departure. However, she didn’t want to give him a chance to overthink it. While she does hope to change his attitude about not celebrating the holiday, her main goal is to help him understand the driving force of his emotional turmoil so he can find a way to process those feelings and move forward in a manner in which he’s comfortable.

“I can’t believe we’re taking a so-called road trip without Baby,” he whines as he slips into the passenger seat.

“Let it go, dude.” Holding her phone out of sight, fingertip hovering, she checks in with him one last time. “Do you choose to accept the mission?”

“You need to let it go.“ Laughing, he leans over to kiss her before settling back and fastening his seatbelt. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

She remains silent, the keys dangling from the ignition, and arches a brow when he looks at her expectantly.

“Alright, alright,” hands waving in the air, “I choose to accept the mission.”

Nic’s finger taps her phone screen, and the theme from Mission Impossible fills the car’s interior. With a howl of laughter from Dean, she starts the engine, and they set off.

They’re only about three hours into the drive when the leg bouncing starts. 

Since it rarely occurred, and the last time it happened, she had slept through most of it while Sam drove, she’d almost forgotten how thoroughly annoying Dean could be as a passenger. First, there had been random bouts of tongue clicking along with other mouth noises, which alternated with finger tapping on the door frame and heavy sighs as he shifted in his seat, now the dull thud of his heel hitting the floorboard with every twitch of his leg.

“STOP!”

“What?” he asks, all innocent-like as if he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“The leg!” She flicks a hand at him. “Chill, dude. Or I’m going to pop that kneecap.”

“Let me drive for a while,” he huffs in response.

“Nope.” The corner of her lip curls as she stares at the road ahead. “Why don’t you take the time to get to know your equipment better.”

“Phfft. I think I know how to work my equipment just fine.”

Leave it to Dean to turn her innocent comment into a dirty little innuendo with an eye wiggle and a bit of added grit to his voice. Well, two can play that game. “Yeah, you do,” she breathes, doing her best Harley Quinn impersonation, biting into her bottom lip as she slides her palm along his thigh, fingers dragging over denim to play with a belt loop. The muscles of his legs tense, and he swallows hard. “But it doesn’t hurt to learn something new.”

“You never had any complaints before,” he growls.

Nic presses her thighs together. Her whole ploy nearly backfires as she strains to keep her voice even and the car on the road. “Oh, I’m not complaining. I’m protecting my interests.” She makes sure to hit his ticklish spot as her fingers dance over his side, and his body jerks in response. Silently laughing, she continues to tease him. “I want to make sure that you are prepared to hold up your end of the bargain.”

“Pull over, and I’ll show you how prepared I am.”

That voice …hypnotic, throaty, and resonating with the promise of pleasurable torture.

Focus, Nicole!

He shivers as her fingers trace a path up his arm, nails scraping over the nape of his neck. She catches the movement of his hand as he adjusts his growing bulge and can feel his eyes boring into her profile. With a quick glance in his direction, she gives him a wink as she reaches behind his seat. “So… you know all about the F-stop values, shutter speeds, ISO, and metering modes for pictures taken during the blue hour versus the golden hour. Action versus still, midday versus midnight, ” she purrs, pulling the camera bag forward.

Dean grunts, smirk crumbling when she drops the case into his lap and giggles.

“You know you’re gonna pay for that later. Right?”

He tries to sound menacing, but it only makes her laugh harder. “Aww, come on, admit it. I got you.” She pokes him in the ribs, and he bats her hand away.

“Whatever.” He flips the case open and stares at the contents, looking a little like a deer caught in the headlights.

“You didn’t bring the manual, did you,” she chuckles, opening the console between them. She pulls out a small leather-bound journal and a copy of the manual and hands them to him. 

“What’s- Oh,” he exclaims as he opens the journal. “It’s like your hardcover logs.”

“I thought you might prefer a leather one.” Returning his smile with a shrug. “I’ve added some notes on the first few pages. Tips I learned over the years.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense,” he bobs his head, reading one of the pages. 

Removing the camera, he sets the case on the floorboard between his feet and lays the book open in his lap. Nic smiles and hums softly along to the radio as Dean becomes engrossed in camera settings.  

When he gets bored of reading and tinkering with his new toy, which doesn’t take long, Nic tries to distract him with discussions of movies and music. As predicted, Dean likes Corey’s little ditty—enthusiastically shouting his agreement with each new line. Their conversation then somehow turns into dirty joke-telling until the banter gets so filthy that she has to pull over onto an overgrown dirt road so they can relieve some tension.

It went downhill quickly after that. A tire blew, and they found themselves stuck in a small village in the middle of nowhere until the local garage opened. Dean refused to go any further on the old spare than the twenty miles it took to get to the sleepy little town’s 24-hour diner across the street from the repair shop.

“I told you, nothing good happens,” he laments as they enter the restaurant. “With our luck, if we try to go further, the spare will blow, and we’ll die in the desert, vultures picking our eyes out.”

“Drama queen,” Nic coughs into her hand.

A dirty look is all she gets as he continues to rant. The only relief she gets from his fidgeting and complaining is during the four-hour nap he decides to take around two in the morning. As he lies in the backseat snoring, she sits on the hood of her car in the diner’s vacant parking lot. The tears staining her face glimmer like crystals in the starlight as she stares blankly into the indigo sky. Frustration burns through her. They’re only a few miles away from the dark sky community where she had wanted to spend the early morning hours watching the stars together. Eventually, she quietly slips into the car and manages to get about an hour’s sleep before he wakes her to get breakfast.

The first hour back on the road after the tire incident is silent and strained. Dean is the first to try to diffuse the stress, reaching over to run his hand over her thigh, “You doing okay?” 

Tired, with disappointment still hovering near the surface, she doesn’t trust herself to keep from crying again and quickly responds, “I’m good.” The half smile plastered on her lips not fooling him.

Turning his hand palm up on her leg, he patiently waits until she entwines her fingers with his, then brings her hand to his lips and gently kisses each knuckle. Though the tension is broken, they each remain quiet, settling into their own thoughts.

Eventually, pen-clicking and complaining about the number of holiday songs on the radio began. At one point, she slaps his hand away from the dial after he zealously flipped through the channels for five minutes, using his words against him that the driver picks the music; shotgun shuts his cakehole before ramming the tape back in. When the leg bouncing starts again, Nic is done. 

It’s still early in the day, but rather than knifehand him in the throat, she asks him to search for a hotel in the area, which again triggers his disapproval about not being allowed to drive. She loves the man dearly, but honestly, there’s only so much one person can take.

“It’s too early to stop.” Kicking the door closed behind him, he whines for the millionth time, “If you’d just let me drive, we could keep going.”

The planned nine-hour drive for their first day became a twenty-one hour, fourteen-minute, and thirty-two-second rollercoaster ride through Hell—yes, she knows precisely how long she’s spent in close proximity with the sexy and charming, but getting on her last nerve hunter. And yes, maybe she is exaggerating a bit, but dealing with Crowley had been less harrowing than having Dean Winchester as a passenger!

“Christ, would you shut up about driving already? I don’t want to keep going, Dean. It’s not a race. We’re not heading to a hunt to try and save someone. Can we just take a breather? Enjoy the time together?” she snaps, exasperated, immediately regretting it.

Turning to find the face of a scolded puppy, she sighs, her heart clenching with sadness. When his pout deepens, a laugh bubbles in her throat. She will probably never understand how he can make her want to go from wringing his neck to cradling him like a wounded animal to wanting to ravage his body in under thirty seconds.

Dean drops the duffles as she sets the laptop and camera bags on the table, “I’m sorry,” they apologize in unison, reaching for one another. He cradles her head against his chest, and she slips her hands beneath his shirt, flattening her palms against his back, trying to connect with as much skin as possible. 

Nic pulls back first, “Dean-”

“No.” Framing her face with his hands, he squats down to her eye level. “I’ve been an ass most of this trip. I know it.”

She chokes on a laugh but shakes her head. “You-”

“Let me …” Tilting his head, he looks at her imploringly. “I need to say this.” When she nods in agreement, he scrubs a hand down his face and stands upright again. “I, uh …it’s strange, you know, it doesn’t feel right being on the road without a plan, not knowing where we’re going, the fact that there’s no monster to fight. It just feels …” Inhaling, he drops his head. Lips pressed together, the dimples make a brief appearance before he says in an explosion of air and uncertainty, “I don’t know …like I’m out of place. I have no clue what to do. I never believed I would have a chance at something like this …something more for us. I-“ he blinks, swallowing hard, “you know what, never mind. I told you all of this already.” Shaking his head, he shifts his gaze to stare despondently over her shoulder.

The slumped shoulders and defeated tone of his voice make her throat tighten with emotion. The whole reason for the trip was to help eliminate those feelings, not make them worse. “Dean …” she reaches for his hand, “I’m so sorry. This …this was a dumb idea.” Dropping his hand, she fishes the keys out of her pocket, holding them out to him. “Here. We can go back home. You can drive.” Jangling the set of keys, she attempts a smile. “I need to sleep anyway.”

“No, Nico, that’s not-” Jaw clenching as he turns and walks away, he runs a hand through his hair. “I- “ Spinning back to face her with watery eyes, he pinches the bridge of his nose, appearing to struggle with finding words but then sets his shoulders, locking eyes with her. “I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to help. I don’t want to go home. I want to relax. To take a breather and enjoy this. I just …I don’t know how. It’s not an excuse for how I’ve acted, though, and I am sorry for that.”

Swiping a tear from the corner of her eye, her lip trembles, “Uh …o- okay.”

“Oh, honey. C’mere.” Opening his arms, he strides toward her, folding her into an embrace as she falls into his chest, arms cinching tight around his waist. “Shit, I’m so sorry, Nico.”

She’s so damn tired that she doesn’t even try to stop the blubbering. “I just …just …wanted…” 

“I know. It’s alright. ” Dean kisses the top of her head, shushing and cooing at her as he moves them toward the bed to sit, situating her in his lap as he gently rocks them. 

They stay that way for several moments, and when the tears finally subside, she mumbles into his chest. “Will it help if I tell you where we’re going?” Dean loosens his hold, and she wipes her face on his dampened t-shirt before tilting her head to look at him. 

Smiling gently at her, he thumbs a final tear from her cheek. “No, I don’t wanna know. Maybe getting out of my comfort zone is what I need to do.”

“Alright,” she sniffs, “but if you change your mind, I’ll tell you.”

Smoothing a hand over her hair, he smiles, “I won’t,” then kisses her forehead, lips lingering until she pats his chest.

“I need to pee.”

As she slides off his lap, Dean chuckles, asking, “Food or sleep.”

Stopping outside the bathroom door, she asks, “Can I take a look at your pictures?”

“Uh,” he rubs a hand over the side of his neck, “sure.”

“Yay. Pictures, food, then sleep.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Seated in front of her laptop a few minutes later, she sees his smirk out of the corner of her eye while he settles on the edge of the bed as she clicks on the folder containing the pictures he’d taken that day. Halfway through the journey, and after everything that happened, she began to wonder if he would take any, but at a particularly scenic rest stop, she’d come out of the restroom to see him snapping a couple of shots. It’s hard to suppress the eye roll and snort of laughter as the thumbnails load. 

All the images are of rocks.

Dean snickers softly, and she knows he’s waiting for her to admonish him or make a sarcastic remark. He thinks he’s so clever. Instead, she clicks open the first photo without a word. After a few moments of silence, he moves to the window and rocks on his heels as she studies the picture. “The composition is good,” she finally says. Reviewing the next image, she compliments him on the focus area. 

After the fourth one, he sits beside her, laying the open journal on the table, asking questions, and taking notes on her suggestions.

A dull thud and the delicious scent of coffee greet her as she rolls to her side, snuggling deeper into the covers. Peeling an eyelid open, she’s assaulted with a blinding smile and glorious eye crinkles as Dean squats next to the bed. “Time to rise and shine, gorgeous,” he chirps.

“What time is it?” she groans. It feels like it’s way too early for so much cheeriness. 

“About six.”

“SIX?” she grouses, covering her head with the blanket, continuing to mumble.

Dean pulls the bedding away from her face and chuckles, “Didn’t quite catch that.”

“I said …screw you,” she grumbles, clearer so he can’t miss it. “It’s too damn early. We don’t need to leave until eight.” 

“Well, if we don’t need to leave until eight, you could screw me,” he teases.

Trying to wrestle the covers back, she huffs in annoyance and slaps at his hand, muttering about annoying, too-cheery morning people, but a tiny part of her is thrilled that he seems eager to carry on with the journey. Giving up when Dean yanks the bedding entirely off her, she whines, “There better be some damn good coffee in that cup.”

~~~~

Today’s stretch had gone a lot smoother than yesterday. They’d taken a detour into Farmington, NM, for lunch and spent a couple of hours walking around the city and taking in the local culture.

Dean was more at ease, a smile gracing his face more often than not. The crossbody leather strap sat on his shoulder, camera at the ready, resting against his hip. She noticed he’d taken more pictures throughout the day, too. He had fallen short of the quota yesterday with only twelve, but she wasn’t about to reprimand him like a kid who didn’t do his homework. She was just happy he’d made an attempt.

Dean whistles low as Nic pulls into the hotel's entrance that evening. “This is a helluva lot nicer than where we normally stay.” He winks, voice coated in exuberance and lush pink lips forming a mischievous grin. “Sammy’s gonna be pissed when he sees the credit card bill. First the camera equipment, now this.” He laughs, tilting his head out the window to look up at the ornate four-story structure.

Delight in his excitement spreads through her veins, and tears press at her eyes. She hadn’t realized how much she missed seeing the joy he found in the simplest things and hopes the rest of the trip will bring more of that out of him. Before the emotions can take complete control, she blinks the tears back and climbs out of the car.

Opening the hatch, she hands the keys to the valet as another staff member places their bags on a luggage rack. Dean’s standing a couple of feet from the car, looking out over the desert scenery. Lifting the camera, he takes a couple of photos as the sun dips beyond the horizon.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing it’s not on the magic credit card,” she states, stepping up next to him. Dean’s confused expression is adorable, and she can’t help but giggle. Gripping his hand, she tugs him toward the revolving door. “Come on, handsome. This is just the beginning.”

Next

Love Me Some Pie tag list:

@akshi8278 // @asgoodasdancingqueen // @calaofnoldor // @compresshischest09 // @deaneverafter // @deans-spinster-witch // @deanwanddamons // @flamencodiva // @idreamofplaid // @jerkbitchidjitassbutt // @justrealizedimmascifygurl // @ladysparkles78 // @michellethetvaddict // @mvdeanw // @shawnie74 // @thinkinghardhardlythinking // @thoughts-and-funnies // @waynes-multiverse // @wayward-and-worn // @waywardbaby // @weepingwillowphoenix

[emmy-dekarios-bg3]

Heart of the Weave - A Baldurs Gate fanfiction- part 3

Chapter 10

It’s a rather eerie evening and by that I mean I feel an unsettling presence nearby; then again, it could be my disturbing amount of anxiety that never leaves my body nowadays. With Fanden spying on us before, I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re actually being watched. Our friends, except Astarion and Shadowheart, are visiting tonight to discuss the venture ahead of us tomorrow and the plan to get rid of this vile situation for good. The last thing I want is confrontation with Gortash. Each time I visualize his face, I clench my fists and feel my heart about to burst into flames from the hatred I feel toward him. I thought I hated him before, I thought he was just a tyrant. He’s my father, someone who could have changed, someone who had the opportunity to choose love over power… But that’s too much to ask of him. Secrets were kept from me my entire life, and I’m still upset with my mother for not telling me the truth ages ago. Right now is not the time to feel this rage and overthink it; we need to go into action and prepare for what’s ahead.

Astarion is at home with Shadowheart and their toddler. With him being immortal and not being directly involved with our scenario, it’s safe to say they’ll be alright. If either of them need us while we’re away, I told Tara to let them know where we are and what we’re doing, and that neither of them need to be directly involved.

“Okay, so the plan is that we get all the explosives – yeah, WHIZBANGS! – and blow up Moonrise? Isn’t this like, crazy illegal? Then again, what those fucks are doing is much worse and it’s best to put an end to it… Okay, I’m in,” Karlach chimes in enthusiastically as she cracks her knuckles as an attempt to be intimidating.

“It’s a shame it has to come down to such a devastating circumstance since it was once such a beautiful place. The place will forever be corrupted by the, uh…corrupted, it seems,” Halsin adds. He’s right. It’s tragic that such a once-lovely piece of architecture ended up corrupted, and will only hold the horrible memories and lost souls within it. How unfortunate.

“I couldn’t agree more. Now, either Emmy or myself will have Jenevelle, but will stand far away from the explosives. All of us will be invisible so we won’t get caught. Once we arrive, it shouldn’t take long at all. Go in, boom, out we go,” Gale explains with a hushed tone.

“I hope once those bastards are dead, they’re dead for good.” My voice is full of worry, though I’m relieved we’re getting this over with.

“No kidding! I’m sick of seeing Gortash’s stupid mug! No offense, Em. If it makes you feel any better, you look nothing like him.” Karlach always knows how to brighten someone’s day, that’s for sure. Gale sits down next to me on the sofa, wrapping his arm comfortably around my shoulders. If he’s nervous or anxious in any way, he’s doing a fantastic job at masking those feelings. Maybe it’s to keep me calm and collected.

“Baby, we’ll get through this like we always do. Jenevelle will be alright.” He’s right. Perhaps I’m second-guessing everything, or just letting my antsy mind get to me. I can feel my mind fogging, losing all recollection of previous thoughts from the past five minutes. An unexpected tingling sensation is causing me to feel drained.

“I wonder what he’s going to say to me. I know it won’t be an apology, that’s for sure.” Everyone in the room stares at me with puzzled expressions, as if I made no sense just now. “What?”

“Good thing you won’t find out, Emmy. We’re going to blast his ass before he’s aware we’re even there. Remember?” Wyll reminds me. What the hells. Am I losing sight of the plan now? Did I just have a huge moment of weakness where I completely lost track of what we’re doing? Get it together, Emmy.

“Right. Yes. I won’t have to say a damned word to him.”

“Say, when this is over with, can we go to the circus? I hear they hired a new clown, a professional this time. He has a background in stand-up comedy,” Karlach says excitedly, and I chuckle as I nod my head in agreement. She’s always so positive no matter the circumstances. Wyll rolls his eyes and kisses her cheek, admiring her goofy and authentic self. It seems she’s not the only one that wants to see clowns. Their alignment with one another is perfect, and I love to see it after all this time. From enemies to unconditional lovers.

After our friends leave for the night, I steep myself some chamomile tea to relax before going to bed. I hold my cup, inhaling the soothing scent of fresh herbs, and feeling the calmness greet me as the steam is absorbed through my nostrils. Gale stands next to me in the kitchen while in his night time robe.

“Hey, I love you,” he murmurs, smiling at me with that particular smile that made me fall in love with him. The way it lifts his cheekbones and the sincerity of love it shows me causes my heart to throb with intensity, and I never want the feeling to fade. I smile, trying to hide my face as I blush but he chuckles, taking my chin with his fingers and moving my face toward him. “Ah-ah, you know I love to watch you blush.” He did that to me on purpose!

“Grr. I love you too,” I finally respond, fighting laughter. “Thank you for putting my mind at ease.” As he places his hands on my waist, I place my tea on the counter and proceed to wrap my arms around his neck, which I can hardly reach.

“Allow me to hold you for a moment, please?” He gently kisses my forehead, leaving his lips there for a moment. I close my eyes as I feel the endless warmth of his lips upon my flesh, feeling him rock me as we stand here in the middle of the kitchen. “I know you’ve been feeling so tense and that it feels like we’ll never catch a break. We will, I promise.”

[trippin-over-my-fandoms]

The Prince of Shadows - Chapter Five

(Reminder that the image of Karl belongs to this neat artist!)

AO3 version and previous chapters can be found here. Previous tumblr chapters can be found by hitting the fanfic title in the tags.

Rating- T

Words- 885

Soft Mama Miranda makes me melt I may have to do a whole fanfic for her

There is an attempt to use Romanian in this fic but it’s relying on google translate so if anyone sees need for correction please let me know!

“Karl?”

Nothing.

Maybe a little louder, “Karl?!”

Again, no answer.

She tries to ignore the way her heartbeat picks up. He’s around somewhere, surely. Behind a tree, around a corner-

“Karl, where are you?!” She tries to manage the panic in her voice, determined that he couldn’t have gone far but the fear is there nevertheless.

“Over here Mama!” Comes his little voice from just behind her. Miranda turns around, backtracks the way they had come by a few feet. Sure enough, he’s there by the little creek they had passed. How had she missed him? She swore he had darted ahead of her moments ago. She took her eyes off him for one second, one second is all it takes- she should have learned that with Eva.

Miranda sighs, calming her nerves now that she knows for certain there’s nothing to fear, “What in the world are you doing child?” She asks, mildly exasperated as she returns to his side.

“Was watching a baby frog,” Karl says innocently, poking at the mud by the water, she has to reach down and pull him back before he manages to get even more dirty or, even worse, falls into the shallow murk, “I lost him though,” he adds sadly, but then triumphantly, “but I almost had him!“

“What would you do with a frog?” Miranda grabs his hand as he stands up, falling back in line at her side and brushing off his dirty knees with his free hand.

Karl grins up at her, a big wide smile that shows off the gap of his recently missing tooth, “I could keep him! Like a pet! I could take care of one Mama, I promise!”

“And your little kitten isn’t enough for you?” Miranda smiles fondly at her boy, just barely nine years old and he’s already trying to bring every animal possible into their home. First he wanted one of the large dogs the farmers in the village kept, then he was determined to convince her to let him have a chicken, then the cat, he even wanted to keep a catfish. At first she had thought it was just his natural curiosity as Eva’s had been. Her daughter had wanted every animal under the sun so she could observe them. But Karl wanted them as companions. His heart is already so big, so much love for someone so small. There are days when Miranda feels honored that he’s her’s.

“Well maybe Ramură needs a friend,” he tries to convince her, just as he had sworn the little injured bird he found would be a good friend for the cat. Miranda didn’t even have the heart to tell him that the bird was hurt because the cat had gotten to it.

“Ramură is just fine with the two of us, I promise you. He won’t be lonely anytime soon,” that feisty little cat could find a lap anywhere. He’s got as much energy as Karl does and enough mischief to keep Miranda on her toes. His saving graces being how much her son adores him and keeping unwanted mice and rats out of her lab.

Karl simply shrugs, kicking rocks on the trail as they walk.

Miranda checks the path ahead then back down at her child, “I need you to not run off like that micuta draga. You almost scared me for a moment,” her smile is gone, replaced with a look more serious but not too harsh. He isn’t in trouble, she simply needs him to understand her worries.

It’s difficult not to have so many, especially after losing Eva. And Karl is almost as old as she was when she passed. Miranda wonders often if that causes her even more worry. She doesn’t want to lose him, he’s become her entire world, he saved her from giving up on life again, inspired her to continue her research, and even now he reminds her of how precious life is.

“I’d always come back Mama,” he says, leaning onto her side and Miranda wraps her arm around him, “I’d miss you too much,” Karl wraps his small arms around hers, she’s always loved how cuddly he is.

“You better,” she grins again, “Or else I’ll have to send a lycan to bring you home to me! And he’ll use you as a chew toy for sure,” she reaches up to ruffle his dark hair. It’ll need to be cut soon, it’s getting long.

“No you wouldn’t Mama!“ Karl giggles, a small squeal in his laugh that sends a squirrel in the trees running.

“Run away and find out,” Miranda teases him, knowing he wouldn’t. At least not now, not this young. He’d have nowhere to go anyways.

“Never,” Karl stops in front of her, reaching up in a silent ask to be carried. He’s getting big but he’s still small enough that Miranda can still lift him with some ease. She doesn’t hesitate to pick him up and hold him close as he wraps his arms and legs around her, nuzzling into her shoulder. She gently rubs his back as she carries him, silently hoping he’ll be ready for a nap once they reach the village. If he’s asleep then she’ll be able to get back to her work.

She’s so close to a breakthrough.

-

* the nickname means “little darling” and the cat’s name is Branch :3

[what-if-nct]

hiiii today's reminder is i went to day one of that wedding today and i did look very good and ate a lot of very good food and i think lost quite a bit of my hearing ability from how loud the music was so you know. standard indian wedding. but it's really weird going to these things now, because I'm apparently at a Marriageable Age now, to all of these random aunties and uncles. and the bride is a family friend of ours who's a couple years older than me, and she married her boyfriend of two years, who is from outside of her culture. which was, I'm ashamed to say, something of a scandal in our circle, but the couple convinced their parents in the end and they're married now (well, they will be married tomorrow, whatever, but that just means i get to wear a saree for wedding day two!!). and it was so weird to hear all the aunties and uncles telling me "it's your turn next" and "look she married outside her caste, I'm just saying if you have a boyfriend, it's fine to tell us" as if i didn't hear them spouting their bullshit about why the parents should never have allowed this right up to the second the bride and groom got on the stage.

like weddings used to be so fun to go to? we'd just dress up and eat and dance and see our cousins and that would be it. and now that's all still there, but there's also this sticky feeling of knowing everyone's expecting me to settle down soon with some nice engineer they pick out for me. which has just solidified my goal that i absolutely need to disappoint my parents with who i eventually marry

Hiii, I'm glad that you at least ate lots of yummy and food and I just know you'll look so amazing tomorrow too!! The pressure to marry and settle down is ridiculous and so many people end up rushing and marrying someone that they don't even love because of the pressure and I can see how being surround by it's your turn, you're next, when will you get married would just leave a bitter taste in your mouth. Also how people make interracial couples this big deal is completely absurd. Like why can't two people of different races love each other without family members constantly judging and looking down on them. It makes no sense to me. Makes me want to exclusively date outside of my race even more (except women love black women forever and ever) . And I whole heartedly cosign wanting to disappoint your parents with who you will marry cause usually that equals the best partner for you. not nine but ten times out of ten disobeying and going against your family's values, and ideals is the best thing you will ever do. Cause most of our families have no idea what is actually good for us cause they don't actually know us. So go ahead baby marry the complete opposite of what your parents want it'll be the best decision of your life. I feel like I sound like I'm anti family you're born into and that's because I am. I only like like five members of my whole entire family cousins and distant relatives included and one of them passed away when I was 15. So just four. Sometimes family sucks.

[ninaeatswaffle]

yoooooo i tried to explain gilmore girls to my friend recently because she hadnt before seen it. it was more difficult than i expected so she should really just watch it. its so good!

omg it's an ask :0 tysmm (rambling and run-on sentences ahead; spoilers below the cut for a year in the life as well as season 7 of the show)

Plot summary for Gilmore Girls for those who haven't watched it: Single teen mom (she's 32 at the beginning of the show but she got pregnant when she was 16) (Lorelai) in a small town asks her big-city millionare mother (Emily) who she hates for money to send her daughter (Lorelai Jr. a.k.a. Rory) to prep school, also she runs a hotel and the show is also about Rory's love life and she kind of goes off the rails at the end.

Anyways so gilmore girls is one of my favourite shows (it was kind of ruined for me by the youtube video essays but it's still really cool) but I def agree that it is a great show, especially later seasons when Rory really gets off the hook I think that's just funny.

Anyways the downfall of Rory Gilmore is something I think about a lot, since in the show, she gets accepted to multiple ivy league schools but in a year in the life she's unemployed and moves back into her hometown and I think that's weird. Like. And in a year in the life she also sleeps around with Logan, who is the person she rejected in season 7 and she's pregnant as well with his baby (presumably, the father is never revealed but there's only two possible guys, Logan and the chewbacca) and I think the ending was really weird as well, my ideal ending would be Rory marrying Logan (ik that's a bit of an amatonormative take but here it makes sense bc we do very much know she's still in love with him 10 years later and this marriage would have been a strategic marriage as well for the entire Gilmore family) and hopefully a Rory redemption arc?

But what I like about Gilmore Girls the most is Sookie, Stars Hollow, and Luke's. I love her so much. She has such a bubbly personality, reminds me a lot of some of the people at the daycare I work at, we need more sookies in this world. I also really like the town of Stars Hollow, I live in a big city with lots of suburban sprawl so I barely even know my neighbours and all of my friends live entire car drives and Stars Hollow just seems like the perfect place because of the sense of community you just don't get in the suburbs. And also Luke's diner, when I went to Quebec in 2021 there were diners everywhere and it sucks that there are no diners where I live except for the upscale ones because they truly are wonderful places and they're mostly small family businesses as well (Just like Luke's).

There's probably a bunch of sideplots I haven't mentioned, I haven't watched Gilmore Girls since 2021 and I forget a lot of the sideplots so yeah. Also if you liked Gilmore Girls, I recommend Gossip Girl (2007) as well, the character of Blair Waldorf basically goes off the rails in the same way Rory did in Gilmore Girls, it's kind of the opposite of Gilmore Girls though because both stories involve a poor kid going to a posh school but Gossip Girl is from the prespective of the rich kids whereas Gilmore Girls is from the pov of the poor kid, I'll probably do a ramble about Gossip Girl as well eventually,

Thank you for the ask I appreciate it so much!

[neverluckygoldfish]

23 -

Lately: been sick as a dog. I hate the flu.

With that being said, I also recently blew up my entire life….in a good way ;)

I have dreamed of settling down in the PNW my entire life. And no, not because I read twilight. My soul has felt at home in the moody gray, the greenery, the culture. I had plans to do so in the next two years. But life happens (as it does) and now I’m moving in 4 weeks!! Holy shit. It feels surreal.

Do I feel like this is a totally bonkers idea? Maybe. Probably. But I don’t care because everything in me is screaming “hell yes” towards this opportunity.

It’s a big change but I feel grateful because I don’t have an urge to drink or use (wild). It’s stress, but the good kind lol.

They say don’t make any major life changes your first year in recovery….but I’ve never been good at listening anyway.

I turn 30 next year. I’m new in recovery, a newlywed, no house or real assets, barely a retirement savings, no kids (except my dog is my child and you can’t convince me otherwise), a little money in the bank, unemployed (making a career change nonetheless), and jumping into this wild change, headfirst. This is not how I pictured 30 haha.

But something I’ve come to admire about myself is my resilience. If I have ever been unhappy with my situation or desired something - I have set my sights on it and fixed/gotten it. Maybe I did it the hard way and maybe I’m (often) too stubborn to listen to advice, but I did it. No looking back. A pro of being selfish. I have never been afraid to take a bold risk, to dare greatly.

Age is just a number baby! Unless it’s less than 18.

I’ve struggled to connect with my greater She lately - once again, I’m trying to control every aspect of my life. To race against some perceived idea that I’m running out of time. That I have wasted all this time with my issues. That I’m behind.

Maybe that’s why I’m sick? If signs are real, I’ll take this as one that I need to SLOW tf down and surrender.

A friend recently told me “it sounds like you are building recovery around your life when you should be building your life around recovery”. It got me thinking. It made me pause….she’s so right. I think it’s an easy trap to fall into. Once things are good, I just race to the next thing. My foundation is fragile right now. What I do, my attitude - it determines my perspective. It sets a precedent moving forward.

I want to let go of the old me: insecure, approval seeking, people pleasing, melancholy, secretive, controlling, perfectionist. I welcome the new me who sees challenges as an adventure, who is kind not only to others but most importantly, to herself. Who lives a fulfilling life and finds joy in the stillness of every day. Who isn’t afraid to chase her dreams. Who trusts in her own capabilities. Who says fuck the haters (lol, but literally).

I am the woman in the arena. Forever.

I needed that reminder.

So yeah, big move but I am so ready. It feels like a fresh start. Also the little kid in me is like “omg eeeeee!!!!!! Check, life dream accomplished”. Energy is on overload lol.

I’m in a good headspace and at a point in my life where I’m comfortable with who I am. I’m not chasing what’s not meant for me. I’m releasing my shame. I’m learning to forgive myself. I’m staying present. I am becoming proud of the person I was / the person I am.

It’s never too late to start over. Everything can be fun, it’s all dependent on perspective. I welcome the next few months and all the adventures ahead!!!

I have faith in my intuition - my greater She. She has led me here.

Each day, a little better and brighter.

[ahundredtimesover]

Hold Me Close | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader, ex Namjoon x Reader (ft. brother Jimin)

Genre/Tags: brother’s best friends au; (dash of) angst, fluff (sort of), smut

Warnings: foul language, feelings of insecurity, minor accident caused by inebriation, getting drunk, sexual content (oral, unprotected sex but be safe please!), JK has a hip tattoo and at some point has grey hair (18+)

Word count: 22k

Summary:  When Jimin hits a crisis, he enlists the help of his older sister - you - and his best friend, Jungkook, to put the pieces back again. That proves to be difficult when 1) Jimin’s a brat and a certified pain in the ass, and 2) Jungkook has grown and suddenly, you can’t keep your eyes off him.

A/N: I wanted to write something fun for a change and saw @ladyartemesia‘s brother’s best friend list and thought it would be a nice trope to explore because if there would be an ideal bratty younger brother, it would be Jimin. This was sooo much fun to write but also reminded me again of why I love my baby sister more than anyone in this world. Hope you all enjoy! 

##

Three - the number of missed calls you probably now have just in the last 5 minutes, the vibrations piercing through your pocket and onto your thigh. It might be important, but so is keeping your attention on the department Director to your right, who is complimenting the man to your left, over a proposal that you spent weeks working on. 

You force a smile because in front of your entire department isn’t really the time and place to refute and complain. It doesn’t help that Chul accepts the credit because anything to get ahead, right? 

Just another reason why you dislike this job. Perhaps your boss telling you that you’re too emotional or too soft to be in this industry has gotten to you, but then again, there’s not a bone in you that’s ambitious and competition-craved, unlike your parents. But you try, at least. It’s the least you can do for something that’s expected of their eldest child.

The Director flips a page and turns to you. “Glad you could contribute to this, Ms. Park.” 

He did assign it to you but you suppose your name just flew off his head, but you remind him anyway. 

“Thank you for the opportunity to work on it, Mr. Yoon. I’m truly learning a lot,” you fake a smile and wish for this to end.

Soon enough it does and you bow towards the managers present, one of them giving you the compliment you needed to hear, and excuse yourself before another call comes in. 

Best brother ever, the screen announces, and you curse yourself for still not changing his contact name and for having an easy-enough password to guess. 

“I swear to god, Jimin, this better be an emergency,” you cuss to the person on the other end, already boiling at the thought of him possibly calling to ask how to fix a broken toilet or what kind of oil he’s supposed to buy for frying because he’d done both too many times for you to count.

“___!” The sound of a relieved huff is what greets you, the voice familiar.

“Jungkook?”

“Yeah, hi,” he says. “Uh, we’re at the hospital.”

Your eyes widen and you scold yourself for missing the calls, but then again, you wouldn’t have known because Jimin’s wolf cries precede this moment of an actual emergency. 

“What? Why! Is my brother okay?” You cry out, hands already working on collecting your files and feet rushing towards your desk to pack up.

“Yeah,” Jungkook affirms. “He’s fine. He just—“

“I AM NOT FINE!” You hear your brother shriek in the background, sound a little soft due to distance but you don’t miss the farcical tone of his statement.

“Dude, it’s just a sprained ankle. You’ll live,” Jungkook tells him calmly, away from the phone.

You sigh in relief because Jungkook is definitely the person to believe in times like this.

“From 1 to Jimin, how dramatic is he?” You ask.

“Jimin. Times two.”

“Damn, okay. That actually seems worse than the injury itself huh?” 

Jungkook laughs in agreement. 

“I’m just packing. I’ll go to you guys right after.”

“Alright. General Hospital, emergency room. Just follow the tone of the weeping man-child.”

“I feel so empty. What am I gonna do with my life now!” You hear in the background.

You laugh at your brother’s antics because you’ve heard that exact line not long ago after his building owner told him again that he can’t have a pet in the apartment. But who knows with Jimin this time around?

“Got it. See you in a bit,” you say, then head out to hail a cab.

**

You arrive in the emergency room and follow the sound of the weeping man-child and true enough, you see your baby brother lying on the bed with his right leg nestled on pillows, ice taped on the swollen ankle.

You rush to his side and assess if there’s any other part that’s being treated. “What the hell happened to you?” You worriedly ask. “Is this because of work? God, Jimin. I told you that company overworks you! You don’t even get enough rest.”

Behind you, you could hear muffled laughter, and paired with your brother’s sheepish smile, you could already tell he got it over something silly. He’s avoiding your gaze, causing your worry to turn to frustration. 

You cross your arms and you give him a stern look. “Park Jimin, look at me and tell me what happened.”

He plays with the hem of the blanket draped over him and with a sickly sweet smile, the one he uses on you to get himself out of trouble, he says, “I may have drank and perhaps had my foot stuck in a gutter and I may also have moved about when Jungkook told me to stay still and well…” Arms laid out before him as if in presentation, “here I am!” 

He’s beaming, as if it’s something to be proud of. You know it’s his tactic but still, your brother’s ability to go from one reaction to another astounds you.

You turn to Jungkook for confirmation and he nods at the accuracy and absurdity of the situation, causing a worried feeling in the pit of your stomach because how the hell are you going to explain this to your parents? 

“You forgot the part about you screaming that you hate men and you don’t want to love anymore,” Jungkook adds. It’s classic Jimin that it actually makes you laugh. 

You, as his older sister and Jungkook, as his best friend of 15 years, should be used to this already but your brother is plucked from a classic romcom as the hot mess character and that carries with it amusement and predictability.

You're about to ask for an elaboration to put more context in the scene that’s playing in your head of a crying Jimin flailing his arms and a bemused but laughing Jungkook trying to shut him up, when the doctor comes in. 

She checks the clipboard then on Jimin. 

“Thankfully, there’s nothing broken,” she says, jotting down on a pad. She starts instructing how to properly wrap the ankle, prompting Jungkook to stand next to you and Jimin to nip at his fingernails because the brat won’t even pay attention to how to care for his own injured foot. 

After handing you the prescription, the doctor tells Jimin, “We’ll just wrap you up with a cast and give you the crutches then you can head home.”

“So I’m not staying?” He asks.

“No need,” the doctor clarifies. “It’s just sprained but it will take several weeks to properly heal and it will be sore for a while,” she states, then calls a nurse and instructs him to prepare the supplies. 

“You said you’re a dance instructor? The injury was aggravated by previous mild sprains so I require complete rest. You absolutely cannot move. Just stay in bed and follow the instructions I’ve written down.”

You and Jungkook release a sigh of relief, thankful that it’s nothing serious, the concern over what prompted his outburst temporarily at the back of your mind, until Jimin speaks up.

“But, something else feels broken.”

“What is it?” The doctor asks, suddenly worried and checks the board for anything she might’ve missed.

“My heart.”

“Yah!” You smack Jimin’s arm in embarrassment, which he returns with a smack on yours, a common sight for you both and Jungkook who’s bared witness to the violence you and your brother inflicted upon each other growing up.

The doctor rolls her eyes. “She’ll come back,” she says, then heads towards the door.

Jimin scrunches his nose in annoyance. “She’s a he, by the way!” He shouts, causing the others present to turn to him, as if such a situation is scandalous. 

“Do… you have a boyfriend I don’t know about?” You nervously ask. 

While your 3-year gap sibling relationship is rooted in violence that’s caused bruises, buckets of tears, timeouts, and your parents almost giving up on making you two get along at many points of your lives, you and Jimin have somehow grown up and have found the right balance of telling each other important things while also staying out of each other’s business. 

The “growing up” only happened midway through his college life, when he realized that even with his best friend next to him, you were still his lifeline in the big city of Seoul and the only other reminder of home. 

Because even with him knowing what it takes to make it in the competitive entertainment industry as a choreographer, in his heart, he’s still the younger child who’s used to being taken care of. That meant regularly demanding your presence in his dorm when he was still studying and then crashing your place when he’d started working. For food, mostly. The ranting about things just came naturally after.

“It’s Tae,” he shyly reveals, meeting your eyes for the first time and suddenly, he’s your little brother again, the one whose snacks you used to prepare or whose wounds you used to treat when your parents weren’t home or were too tired from work.

“Your roommate?”

“Yeah. He left today because he got this photography gig where he gets to travel the world.”

“I didn’t know you had a thing,” you say.

“We didn’t,” he huffs out in frustration. “I didn’t know I liked him until he said he booked a one-way ticket and didn’t know when he'd be coming back. And he was so excited and I was really happy for him but also felt like it was too late. Like should I have said anything? What if he felt the same way? Would he have stayed?” He sighs, looking sullen this time.

“He may have, or he would still be taking the trip. Regardless, no one should be giving up on dreams for anybody, Chim. That’s not how it’s supposed to work,” you say, not meaning to sound as if you’re reprimanding him, but the look he gives is enough to tell you that he understands. He’s heard variations of that same sentiment before, anyway. 

Jungkook feels the tension in the air and breaks it by stating that he’ll be driving everybody home.

“I’ll be staying with my sister,” Jimin announces, his annoying smile now back, and he knows you can’t say no; by obligation or by choice, you won’t tell.

“There goes my weekend,” you gripe. 

“I won’t be a nuisance, I promise,” he says then crosses his heart, like it actually means anything.

“You’re a nuisance even when you’re not injured, what more now?”

“I’m not that bad,” he defends.

“Oh, but you are.” You turn to Jungkook. “You know, I actually tried to push him back in our mom’s vagina but even her uterus didn’t want him anymore.”

“Ouch okay, I will pretend I didn’t hear that,” and you all laugh as Jimin is transferred to the wheel chair and pushed by the nurse, signaling Jungkook to go ahead and retrieve his car.

**

You arrive at your apartment with a Jimin-clad Jungkook in tow, the worry of not having cleaned up quickly dissipating because this is your brother, and he shouldn’t complain. 

Jungkook assists Jimin in the bathroom while you set up your bed by piling up pillows for his foot. 

“I don’t have clean sheets for the sofa bed in the other room,” you say, “and it’s not cleaned up, as I didn’t expect to house an injured child this weekend. Just sleep on my bed first.”

Jungkook guides Jimin to your bed and helps him settle in, with your brother looking all smug with the treatment he’s getting because he knows you don’t give up your bed that easily.

“What about you?” Jungkook asks, seemingly more worried about your inconvenience than the actual cause of it.

“I’m fine with the couch. Wouldn’t wanna sleep here with him and accidentally hit his foot. He might murder me or something.”

“Thanks, Sis. I’m very comfortable here. I think I’ll be sleeping well tonight,” Jimin states, then yawns, drowsiness kicking in from the medication.

You roll your eyes and close the door. You lead Jungkook to your kitchen and offer him a drink.  

“I’m sorry for him, Kook. Did he drag you out of work?” You ask. 

“Just had to call the tattoo parlor and reschedule my Friday appointments,” he says, downing the glass of water. “He was pretty emotional over the phone and wanted to drink at 4PM and well, you know the rest.”

“Ugh, such a pain in the ass,” you mutter, massaging your temples. “But was he serious about the whole Tae thing?”

“Seemed like it. I think it just took an abrupt change for him to realize what he felt,” he explains. “But you know him - falls fast, moves on faster. He’ll be okay. You’re here,” he continues, flashing you his bunny smile, the one that used to cause you to pinch his puffy cheeks out of cuteness. 

But that’s when he was a lanky 10-year old with his awkward front bangs. The man in front of you now sports long dark locks and a sharp jawline, tattooed arms and probably a built figure, if the way he carried your brother as if he’s a feather is any indication of his strength. His bambi eyes, usually scrunched large nose, and child-like smile are the only things that remain from that memory of him. 

“You know I can’t stand my brother for long periods of time, Kook,” you pout, earning you an amused laugh.

“He actually already invited me over the weekend, asked me to bring my PS4 so we could play.”

“That bitch has to rest, what is he talking about?” 

“Same thing I told him. I’ll just make up some reason that my player caught fire or that I dropped it while running or something.”

You give him a straight face. “The hell would he buy that? You can just not bring it.”

“I’m just gonna match his drama,” Jungkook shrugs, earning him your laugh, which for him is all tones of sweet and soothing. 

A smile forms on his face at the thought of making you laugh like this, something he secretly enjoys. This particular sound would most likely be etched in his mind, among the several others that he caused. 

There was that time when you caught him doing chubby bunny as a consequence and seeing him stuffed with marshmallows made you secretly giggle because 15-year old you didn’t want to indulge in their silly antics; Jungkook heard it though. 

There was that other time during Jimin’s 14th birthday at an arcade, Jungkook went over the basketball game’s railing to get the highest score and you alternated between scolding him and laughing your butt off. He snuck the tickets he won in your pile though so you would have enough to get the Tinkerbell tea set because he knew your obsession with fairies.

When you visited home for their high school graduation, you all cooked dinner and he overdid the glazed sweet potatoes, causing them to get stuck on the plate. You tried to hold your laugh but gave up once he started dancing; he was so embarrassed but that’s when he knew he’d willingly make a fool of himself to hear you laugh like that. 

And 3 years ago, your large group of friends went on a ski trip. He was attempting to run up the slope but kept sliding, and even from a distance, he could pick out which laughter was yours; it was probably the only remedy to an otherwise heartbreaking weekend, considering that you were there with your then-boyfriend, Namjoon. 

Reminiscing those causes his heart to feel like floating, like always, then the words “nobody dates my sister” pulls that heart down to crash into reality, like always, too, the reality being that you’re his best friend’s older sibling. 

You’ve been off-limits since Jimin threatened Jungkook and their other friends about cutting off their dicks if anybody tried to date you when they were 16, but you were probably off-limits even before that. Jungkook mentally shakes his head. 

He doesn’t like being told what to do but then again, Jimin is his best friend, the tiny feisty 10-year old who fought off the bullies who tried to take Jungkook’s snacks. It had been them against the world since then, and so far, the only person he thinks who’d ever come between them is you.

Jungkook is pulled out of his thoughts at your call of his name, prompting you to repeat what you just said.

“I said, thanks again for being there for my brother like, ever since. If it was just me I would’ve disowned him a long time ago.”

Jungkook giggles, already used to the drama that is your sibling relationship. He’d witnessed too many wrestling matches, scream fests, and pulled pranks in the last 15 years. While you’ve both gone past those, your complaints about each other is something you haven’t really outgrown yet. 

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t disown him,” Jungkook chuckles, the words ‘he’s the only link I have to you’ quickly dissipating in his mind. 

“You know he just craves your attention and riling you up is the way he does it, younger sibling and all. I would’ve done that if my brother wasn’t 7 years older. Jimin tends to be immature around you but he’s the best person I know. I wouldn’t have survived anything if it weren’t for him.”

This brings a smile to your face, their origin story warming your heart more than you care to admit. Your brother is fierce and a fighter, you’d give him that.

“Well, he’s just as lucky to have you, Kook.”

It’s the tenderness in your voice that makes him feel like he’d just won a prize, and he wishes you don’t notice the flush of his cheeks. If you do, you don’t mention it, because not long after, you say that you’ll wash up, signaling him that it’s time to go. 

Jungkook drives home that night feeling like his pre-adolescent self, the giddy feeling of when you first pinched his cheeks the same one he feels right now. It’s when he first developed his crush on you - you’d been arguing with Jimin and said you wished he was as behaved and as adorable as Jungkook, prompting your brother to point out Jungkook’s large nose, which you responded with by saying it adds to his charm. 

Petty fights, like always, but it’s when you told him to not listen to what other people say if they’re out to put him down did Jungkook realize that you and Jimin were cut from the same cloth. 

Soon after, every little moment with you, every glimpse of your life outside of being his best friend’s sister became more and more enthralling to him. The fact that you were getting prettier each year just served to solidify his affection for you. And also made it difficult to hide his hard-on every time you’d show up for breakfast in your cloth shorts when he’d sleep over your parents’ house, or when he’d see you in your pretty outfits in the bars you all frequented once he was in Seoul for college. 

He’d let himself think of you during the times he wasn’t in a relationship, and he’d slowly let go of the bit of hope he’d have every time you were in one, partly because your relationships were usually long-term, compared to his, and also because your ex-boyfriends were nothing like him, which is safe to say that he wasn’t your type. 

Maybe it was the age, the level of maturity, maybe it was the sense of security, maybe he’s just not the kind of guy who could give you what you want, although honestly he doesn’t know exactly what that is. 

But if Namjoon - your intelligent, upstanding, businessman ex-boyfriend who was also really handsome and kind - and your subsequent heartbreak are anything to go by, then Jungkook is clearly reaching for the stars with you. Not that you’re out of his league, but he’s more like in the outskirts, just lying in the edges, the border between what’s possible and what isn’t, but definitely far from the center of action. Even tonight, the most time you’d spent together in years that wasn’t in a party, was because Jimin had been hurt. 

If anything, though, his long standing admiration for you hadn’t really gone away. And he doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

**

The weekend with Jimin staying with you wasn’t that unbearable, primarily because he was rendered immobile on your bed and was usually sleepy. You were thankful that Jungkook dropped by to keep your brother company while you caught up on errands and chores. 

With another work week coming filled with meetings and events, you had Jimin stay with Jungkook first. He insisted it wasn’t a bother; his work as a freelance artist and a part-time tattooist gives him control of his time.

It’s the weekend after the incident when you hear a knock on the door, not expecting to see Jimin with his casted ankle and crunches; behind him are 3 large luggages and a few boxes. 

You’re just about to process the sight before you when he says, “I got sacked from the company when I said I couldn’t get back to work next week. And I can’t afford to pay rent anymore, even if I get a roommate and I…” he turns to you, almost shameful, “I have nowhere else to go.”

You sigh because really, your relationship with your brother is hinged on fights you don’t really mean, pettiness that drives you crazy, and an unconditional love that you both deny but undeniably share. So you open the door wider and laugh at his “you’re the best sister in the world” claim and your usual response of “you only have one.”

Jungkook arrives with the last box and you help bring in all the stuff that seems never-ending, making you wonder how these fit in his car and how he managed to bring everything, including your brother.

“Park Jimin, you have so much stuff! You might as well have hired a mover,” you cry out.

“Oh I did,” Jimin answers, pointing to Jungkook.

You cock an eyebrow because obviously, movers get paid. 

“I told him you said you’re gonna make us dinner.”

“Except I didn’t,” you scrunch your eyebrows and turn to Jungkook, amused at his sudden change of expression, bambi eyes widening at his innocence. 

“I swear, he seemed so convincing,” Jungkook claims, hands held up as if in surrender. He bites his lips and looks at the ground. “I can just go, really. I’ll just force him to treat me to lunch when he’s healed and I can wrestle him if he doesn’t.”

“Don’t be silly, Kook. Stay for dinner,” you crack a smile. You walk to your kitchen and take out the pork belly to thaw. “I won’t make you steak though. That’s reserved for my wine nights when I want to bask in my singleness,” you call out. 

“Also,” you turn to Jimin, “you don’t deserve my steak.”

Your brother laughs, knowing that it’s your way to mask the kindness you’re showing. 

Later that night, with dinner out of the way and your spare bedroom set up for Jimin to stay, you guide him to the sofa bed and make sure his foot is elevated, bell just within his reach that you instructed him to ring when he needs you. 

“Thanks, ___. You—”

“Are the best sister in the world, I know,” you cut him off.

“I was gonna say you should get some rest and to not worry about me. I’ll be fine,” he smiles.

You nod and head out the room, the worried look on your face not going unnoticed by Jungkook, who’d just finished wiping the dishes.

“Everything okay, ___?” 

You heave out a sigh.

“What the fuck am I gonna do with him, Kook?” You ask, the reality of your injured and now unemployed brother dawning on you. “What am I gonna tell my parents?” 

Oddly enough, it’s when you and Jimin were finally adults did your parents think to check up on you both. Perhaps living under the same roof didn’t warrant that, but with both children now living independently hundreds of miles away from them, they’ve ensured to call every week. Your conversations mostly revolve around Jimin, though, the words “take care of your brother” not having an expiration date, apparently. 

You know the weight of the words - it’s not just because you’re older but because by your parents’ standards, you’re also the more stable and financially secure one by nature of your 9-5 corporate job in a fancy building that requires you to wear corporate attires, in contrast to Jimin’s late-nights in a dance studio busting moves in sweats. 

Your parents are partial to your kind of work, given that they’ve spent more than half their lives in the same field and always wished you’d both do the same, even if you promised yourself you wouldn’t give in to the world that took so much of your parents’ time from you. 

Much as you want to believe you’re just doing your job as the older child by entering the industry, you were too much of a people-pleaser who just wanted to make her parents proud. 

Jimin, on the other hand, was smart enough to only apply to the performing arts programs of prestigious universities in Seoul and was good enough to actually land a scholarship in the same school as you; your parents were backed in a corner and couldn’t do anything. 

You’d never tell Jimin but you always admired him for that; it takes a lot to stand up to your parents without actually standing up to them. You’re just glad that between the both of you, someone was brave enough to go for what they genuinely wanted.

“Tell them the truth?” Jungkook shrugs. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“You act like you don’t know what my parents are like.”

True, Jungkook thinks, but he also knows things have improved on their end. “Well, if anything, they’re more receptive now. They would congratulate Jimin on the choreographies they’d see those idol groups dance. They ask him about work, too.”

You smile at the thought, something your brother never mentioned, but you can imagine how happy that might’ve made him. Jimin, as you’ve found out, is a sweetheart to his friends - affectionate in all ways and very expressive - something he isn’t to you and your parents. The same can be said about you, and you soften at the thought that you and Jimin really aren’t that much different from each other. 

Jungkook picks up on the thoughts going through your head. “He probably didn’t tell you because you know him, he’d go all soft if he does, and Jimin has this persona when it comes to you. And it isn’t the soft one.”

“Goes both ways, I guess.”

“It’s not the end of the world, and he doesn’t seem to think so. He’s going to be fine.”

**

Jimin, in all sense of the word, is not fine. It took a few days until he cracked. He went from being an obedient patient who followed the doctor’s order of staying in bed, to one who constantly walked around and complained that he had nothing to do. 

Going on dating apps makes him sad, looking at job openings makes him sad, not being able to move and dance makes him sad. And your heart breaks for him, knowing what it’s like to lose your sense of direction and motivation at the loss of something or someone important. You allow him to let out his frustrations, though, listen to him when he rants, feed him his favorite food, and call Jungkook over with his PS4 that isn’t actually broken.

In fact, calling Jungkook has been your go-to, especially when you’re running out of things to say to comfort Jimin. Most times it’s really just so they could play PS4 together, prompting Jungkook to leave it at your place so Jimin could stay preoccupied and not feel too down when the job lists come up empty. He tires easily though, and it’s after he’s been tucked in bed that you usually settle for a cup of tea in the kitchen, Jungkook now the one listening to you talk.

It usually starts with the topic of Jimin, followed by some memory from your childhood that you and Jungkook get hysterical over, followed by a story about your work, and then a story about his. His stories are more interesting though. He shows you the paintings and digital pieces he makes for clients, and tells you amusing bits about his tattooing gig like amusing patterns and memorable customers. 

Hearing all this sends warmth through you because of how much he’s grown. While you’re only 3 years older, you met Jungkook when he was a shy 10 year-old, a complete opposite to you and Jimin’s naturally sociable selves. He went from smiling sheepishly to joking around and giving you high-fives in the 5 years before you went to Seoul to study.

Of course he’s grown when he followed your brother to the same university, having seen him with different girls, going to the same parties because your friends had taken a liking to him, and attending his art exhibitions. He went from greeting you under his breath to calling out to you at a bar while he’s surrounded by his peers. 

This was the kid who used to follow your brother around - even joined the dance club in high school - and would dunk his head in water if you asked him to, but now he’s forged his own path, doing what he loves, and enjoying every bit of his time that he controls. 

Personally, you’re also just happy that he can be available for your brother and for you, too, seeing that the nights you used to spend forcing yourself to sleep are now spent in good conversation with him. 

He’s also gotten way more attractive in the past few years, something you’ve only noticed now. Perhaps it has much to do with the physical closeness when you talk - your kitchen bar isn’t that long, anyway - where you’re able to pay more attention to his defined jawline, his dark eyes that anybody could get lost in, the curve of his nose, and the perfectly-placed beauty marks on his face. Come to think of it, maybe Jungkook has always been handsome, but you stop your thoughts before they go anywhere restricted.

It’s one Saturday night when you arrive home, after having drinks with your friends, to a very drunk Jimin and a tipsy Jungkook, gorging on fried chicken. Just thinking of cleaning up is already giving you a headache, which is aggravated by your brother’s drunk singing of classic yet cringey sad love songs. 

“Yah! Look at the mess you’ve made,” you smack Jimin’s arm, pointing to the chicken crumbs on the floor. “And alcohol, seriously? You can barely walk properly and now you’re drinking?”

“I’m injured, unemployed, homeless, and heartbroken. Leave me alone,” is all he says, then proceeds to belt out an insanely high note that pierces your ears and which causes Jungkook to laugh, used to this already and may have been enduring this the past hour or so. 

“He’s been like this for the past 4 hours,” Jungkook says. 

“And you let him?”

At the final high note, Jimin passes out on the couch, body limp over the empty space to his left.

“He wanted to drink his frustrations away, thought it might help,” Jungkook responds.

You sigh in annoyance but think he’s right, too. Jimin was out drinking his frustrations the night he got injured but at least now he’s doing it in the safety of your home. 

“I guess,” you shrug. “Can you take him to his room before he severs his neck?”

Jungkook laughs but follows. He carries Jimin over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and you pretend to not look hot and bothered at how easily he could carry your dead-weight brother. 

You follow to the room shortly and place an aspirin and orange juice on the side table, knowing it’s Jimin’s hangover drink. You remove the strands of hair that have stuck to his forehead and tuck him under the covers. 

Jungkook looks at you fondly; for someone who always claims you should’ve disowned her brother, you sure have a very affectionate way of showing it.

You step out of the room and take in Jungkook’s tipsy state, red cheeks and glassy eyes giving him away. 

“You should stay,” you tell him. “You drank and I doubt you’d sober up anytime soon, but try anyway.”

He nervously accepts but not for the reasons you think. He’s nervous because aside from those sleepovers at your house when you were younger, this is the first time he’s sleeping under the same roof as you, and that makes him giddy but anxious at the same time. He hopes you don’t catch him mid-dream saying your name; that would be too awkward to explain.

He goes back to the living room post-shower, a blanket and large pillow on the couch and you, tucked in the corner with a glass of juice. 

“Did you want to sleep already? I can go to my room if you are.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m not that sleepy yet, you can stay.” 

He refuses your offer of a drink. Unsure of the appropriate distance from you now that there’s space to go around, he settles on the other end of the couch. You smile at him as he sinks on the corner and he smiles back as you take baby sips from the glass. You both settle in comfortable silence, appreciating the quiet as a reprieve from the mind-numbing noise from earlier. 

You take a big gulp and he couldn’t hold the chuckle at your wide eyes hidden behind the glass. 

“So I’m guessing your hangover drink is apple juice?” He asks, not missing the similarity with your brother.

“Yeah. Jimin hates it so I’m sure he’ll never take it. He used to finish all the orange juice at home and I was mad because I wanted orange juice, too,” you say with a pout. Jungkook’s heart skips a beat at how adorable you look and goes for an ah, that’s why face because he remembers you fighting Jimin over it before.

“So you just switched to apple juice?”

“Yeah, pretty much. It’s really good. I thought he’d switch too just to annoy me but he said he really doesn’t like it.”

“Look at you two, being all civilized for once,” Jungkook teases. You throw a pillow at him and laugh at his comment, but you don’t disagree.

“Yah! We’ve always been civilized, okay?” 

“Now that is a lie. May I remind you of the time you two wrestled in front of me over a piece of pop tart. How you tackled him to the ground and he pulled your hair and the innocent treat was crushed in the process.”

“Hey, I was 15 and I called dibs on the strawberry!”

“Or that time you both wanted to watch different movies and had me choose and I felt like I was signing a death sentence either way? But it didn’t matter because you still got into a pillow fight?”

“His choices were always so boring!”

“Or that time when…”  You throw him another pillow. 

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. We weren’t always civilized,” you give up, laughing so hard with him at the memories. “You witnessed the worst parts of us, huh?”

“I didn’t really have a choice, did I?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow. 

“Well, you were the only one who stayed. The rest of your friends would run out once Jimin and I started going at it.” 

He laughs at this because if only you knew why he always stayed. He actually liked that you’d let him referee you two, he felt wanted. 

“Hmm, it takes a lot to handle the Park siblings, I don’t blame them.”

“Wow, Jeon Jungkook. Calling out your elder. Where is this bravery coming from?” You tease.

“I drank, remember?”

“Not much though.”

He shrugs. He doesn’t know, too, but he likes seeing you look flustered. “Enough liquid courage, I guess.”

You deem his answer satisfactory but it does make you recall all those petty fights growing up. 

“Sorry you had to witness all that,” you say, giving him a shy smile. “Our personalities were always just clashing and it was harder not to fight each other.”

“I think you two are just so similar, that’s why.” 

You look at Jungkook, eyes wide at the statement you’d only ever thought to yourself. 

“He thinks the world of you, you know?” He continues, sensing your now serious demeanor. “He used to tell the mean older kids that you’re his sister and you’ll fight them if they hurt him because he just knows you’d protect him no matter what.” 

You laugh and roll your eyes but Jungkook knows you agree.

“For schoolwork, he would always write about you as his role model or the person he looks up to.” Jungkook doesn’t miss how your eyes soften at this. “He never found out that I knew but I’ve read parts, how he wanted to be strong and kind like you, to be independent and smart and hardworking like you.”

Maybe it’s the remnants of alcohol, or this apple juice is just fucking delicious but you’re getting emotional.

“And honestly, I don’t think that’s changed. He’ll always look up to you, whether he’ll say it or not.”

And there goes the water works, causing panic in Jungkook and he immediately goes to you. Noticing your non-movement, he uses the edges of his hoodie to wipe the tears that have begun flowing from your eyes. He stills for a moment but seeing how you haven’t pushed him away, he continues. 

You look up at him with watery eyes and quivering lips. Somehow you should be embarrassed but something about Jungkook having seen the worst of you and being nothing but a huge help these past few weeks, you feel safe. No judgment whatsoever, just an air of understanding and care.

“Why are you telling me this?” You ask, and Jungkook feels weak at how you look. He didn’t mean to make you sad but all he wants to do now is hug you until you feel better.

“Because you’ve been so worried and so hard on yourself, as if it’s only your burden to carry.”

You try to object but he cuts you. “Jimin’s an adult. He’s crying and drinking and sulking but that’s normal. He’ll be fine and get himself together. I know that. Even he knows that. You know why? Because it’s what he’s seen you do.” Jungkook wipes another stray tear.

“Whether it’s a breakup or a work thing, he’s seen you take hits but never back down, never let anybody walk all over you, never let them take away the best parts of you. He’s struggled before, too, but he always got back up.”

“He’s good and strong that way,” you reply softly.

“Like I said, he has a good role model,” he smiles, nudging your shoulder. 

It’s meant to be playful but it’s comforting for you, and you’re leaning on his shoulder before you know it, ignoring the way he briefly stills at your action. 

“You’re a good person, Kook. We’re lucky to have you.”

You’re so close to him and he can feel the heat radiate from you. It’s too quiet that he’s afraid you’d hear the thrumming of his heart, from your words and the affection behind your still head on his shoulder. The situation calls for it, he thinks, so he lays his hand on your back and rubs circles on it.

He’ll chalk it up to liquid courage again if you ask, but you don’t. Instead you snuggle closer, chasing his warmth. He swears he could pass out with just this, but he tortures himself more by holding you even closer and he swears, even with his thick hoodie, he could feel your smile.

**

Over a month since the gutter incident - as you like to call it - you, Jimin, and Jungkook have found a pattern of cohabitation, and yes, that includes Jungkook, seeing as how he’s become a staple in your household and your life. 

At some point, Jimin had sulked less and would spend his time watching dance videos to remind himself of the feeling, even if it was just virtual. He’d even expanded his choice of employment by checking job openings as a fitness instructor and a ballet teacher for children. 

He’d also done his regular foot exercise once the pain became bearable. Still unemployed and heartbroken though, he’s been shameless in making your place his own home, with most of his belongings now removed from their boxes, and inviting Jungkook over any time, any day. Not that you minded though, since he’s been nothing but a literal angel.

Living in a studio on his own, Jungkook usually has ramen or street food as dinner, which is why Jimin used to invite him over his shared apartment with Taehyung so that Jungkook could at least have home cooked meals every once in a while. 

It’s why he’s often over your place on weeknights he doesn’t have a shift at the tattoo parlor. That and because Jimin still wants him over to play video games. Jungkook brings food over or pays for delivery though, and you welcome the initiative. 

On weekends, you’re all busy doing your own thing in the living room together, which carries over to movie nights. The young ones pass up on their friends’ invites to a party while you, well, your friends would rather spend their weeknights with their partners instead. So your night of basking in your singleness now means doing so with your brat of a brother and his dependable best friend.

It’s a Saturday afternoon when you get home from doing errands and you find both men in your living room, with Jimin reading a book on some dancer’s biography and Jungkook busy on his laptop. Your brother’s face pops on the screen and you decide it’s not a personal matter so you plop next to Jungkook on the floor and softly rest your chin on his shoulder, something you’ve maybe done once or twice before.

“What you up to?” You ask, an impressed look on your face at the snippets of Jimin dancing, some of which you’ve never seen before. 

“I’m working on his application video,” he says, pointing to your brother. “Since he’s not able to dance when he tries for jobs, he thinks sending them a video to show his skills will help.”

“Oh, like a visual CV of some sort?”

“Yes!” Jimin states. “Want them to know what they’re missing out on, and that’s a lot.”

You roll your eyes but mentally agree; your brother is the most talented person you know. 

“Kookie’s been kind enough to work on it for me although he’s been on it for hours,” he continues, a playful smile on his face.

“Give him a break, Chim. He’s done so much for you already,” you say, getting your own laptop and setting it up on the table.

“Nah, it’s the least I can do. He’s helped me so much, ___.”

“He fought off your bullies 15 years ago…” You cock an eyebrow.

Jungkook chuckles. “Yes. And more. Helped me with school work, my confidence, my social skills…”

“Gave him tips to woo girls because he was too shy to ask them on dates,” Jimin adds.

“Hmm,” you mumble. “What you gotta be shy for? Just flash them your smile or show them your toned arms, they’ll probably jump on you right there,” you say nonchalantly, unaware of the way Jungkook’s heart stills at your comment.

“He doesn’t want them to jump on him, ___. He wants them to actually like him, or love, whatever. He’s a romantic, you know,” Jimin teases. “Would travel to the ends of the earth or fight to the death for the woman he loves, whoever she is,” he says matter-of-factly, unaware of the way Jungkook’s breath hitches because if Jimin only knew.

“Aww, Kook. That’s cute,” is all you say, smile genuine though, he wishes he could see it everyday. But cute, really? That’s it?

He chooses not to dwell on it and instead asks you what you’re up to, to which you respond that it’s a presentation you have to work on. You’re frustrated at your lack of design eye and it looks so bare; you want it to look professional but still eye-catching.

“Maybe I can help!” Jungkook states.

But of course, you think. You’ve been accommodating an actual graphic designer in your home, surely it’s fair that he help you out, right?

“Yes please, Kook. I need to blow these people away with my smarts and my non-existent creativity,” you laugh. 

Jungkook sets aside his laptop, adoringly quick to prioritize helping you, and works on your presentation. He knows just the right color and font combo, even helping out on which details to include, what visuals to add, and how to make it exactly how you want. 

You’re amused at how easily he works on it. He's meticulous, working on the size of the texts and the angles of the patterns. Jimin chides him for his perfectionism but unbeknownst to both of you, Jungkook’s laser focus is a means of distraction with how physically close you’ve been to him the past hour, eyes flicking from him to the screen.

He wants this to last but also can’t wait for it to be over because of how nervous he is, especially with your constant praises for something really basic, but which he finds so charming all the same. 

Pretty soon he finishes and returns your laptop to you and retrieves his, quick to get back to work and focus on something else, which still proves futile once you remove your sweater to reveal a camisole underneath, and tie your hair on a high bun, thus exposing more of your shoulders and neck. 

He shakes off the tingles he feels, pretends to be completely unbothered by his attraction towards you that seems to intensify day-by-day. He looks forward to seeing you, and when he doesn’t, he yearns to. He’d been used to admiring you from afar but these past weeks showed that he has all the reasons to admire you even up close. 

You’re just as brilliant, feisty, and funny; sassy too like Jimin but in a captivating way, yet so kind-hearted just the same. 

The three of you settle in a comfortable silence, each busy with your own task at hand. With your knees touching Jungkook’s, your questions on any additions you make on the presentation, and him asking for your approval on the video (which he seeks, oddly enough from you and not from Jimin), your eventual quick agreement on dinner and your teamwork in preparing it, it all feels so familiar, like it’s home.

**

The next evening, you find yourself sandwiched between Jungkook to your right and Jimin to your left, who moved from his center seat to lie down, with half of his tiny body settled comfortably on top of you and Jungkook. Your brother insisted on watching “How to Be Single” tonight, like a slap to all your faces.

It’s during one of the scenes with the protagonist’s ex when Jimin randomly asks, “___, do you regret breaking up with Namjoon?”

It may seem like a question out of left field, but with everything that’s happened, Jimin has been quite reflective lately, particularly about love. He’s had his fair share of partners but unlike you, is more a feeler than a thinker; gets out of relationships as fast as he gets into them; takes it one day at a time whereas you always have to consider the future. 

You don’t need to ponder on the question; you’ve gone through this multiple times with your best friends but never really with your brother. 

“Sometimes. But there was too much on the line and it was unfair to both of us if we carried on.” You sigh, recalling the moment you both decided it wouldn’t work. “It was something we had to do but doesn’t mean it hurt any less.”

Jimin hums, thinking back to the days he’d barge in your apartment and ask for leftovers when really, he just wanted to be near you so you had someone to cry to, just in case. That was over 2 years ago and it took you a year to finally say that you were over the relationship. He used to note your choice of words - “I’m over us,” never “I’m over him.” 

Next to you, Jungkook is picking on his nails, unsure if he should be part of the conversation. He’d heard about the break up since you had common friends. It was quite the shock, knowing how you and Namjoon were. 

You pick up this nervous habit, aware that he might not know what really happened. It wasn’t a secret but there was more to the story. 

“We just wanted different things,” you say then turning to both of them, “so you two better make sure you’re on the same page with the person you date, talk about what lies ahead, what you want, what you’re willing to compromise and what you aren’t.”

“That’s good advice, yeah Kookie?” Jimin says. 

“Why you focusing on me?” Jungkook asks. 

“You’re the one focused on the dating, not the settling. You avoid those conversations.”

“You don’t want to settle?” You ask, now curious. You’ve seen him with girlfriends but thinking back now, his relationships never really lasted.

“It’s not that,” he glares at Jimin. “I’m more of a live-in-the-moment kind of guy. Thinking about the future is great, I mean, any mature individual does that, it’s just…” 

He heaves out a sigh, hoping he’s not shooting himself in the foot with his statement. “What good is the future if you don’t take care of what you have right now? Isn’t the present more important because it’s what’s assured? The future is literally dependent on that, so the now is what I want to focus on.” 

He rests his head on the couch, nervous of your reaction. He knows you’re a planner, needs to see things far ahead to know what to do. 

There’s no one way to go about life, he acknowledges that. He just doesn’t want you to think he’s not a serious guy. With his developing feelings for you, not seeing him as a potential partner is literally the worst thing that could happen.

Jimin continues with the movie he paused but in your mind, all you could think about was what Jungkook said. If you and Namjoon hadn’t obsessed about the future, would things have been different? Would you still be together? 

The sinking feeling comes at the realization that maybe they still wouldn’t. What if your ‘present’ with him then wasn’t good enough in the first place? That the “could be” was more exciting than the “what is”? Suddenly there’s clarity, you just don’t know if it’s the good kind. 

Still, it doesn’t keep you from sinking further down the couch until you’re leaning on Jungkook’s shoulder. And like the few times that you have, there’s a comforting feeling in the act. 

“You must’ve made your ex-girlfriends really happy, huh Kook?” You ask, head shuffling near his upper arm. “Focusing on the present and the moments and all that.” 

You wish it was something you did, but Namjoon was just like you. 

“I guess you could say that,” he answers shyly. 

“But that was just it though, right Kook?” Jimin says. “Made them happy but not enough to fall in love.”

This prompts you to look at him, wide eyes full of questions. “How come?”

He turns to you and if he tried enough, Jimin right behind you would blur and there’s just you, overhead light illuminating the best parts of your face which is, well, everything. You’re absolutely breathtaking. 

And at your question - how come he never fell in love - comes his own realization. For all of his talk of living in the moment, tucked in the corner of his mind is the thought of the future he’s only ever dreamed about, the one that he’s always wanted, well, with you. 

“I - I actually don’t know.”

**

Adopting your brother, and by extension Jungkook, isn’t as bad as you expected. Sure, Jimin is still a diva and annoys you just because he wants to, but he makes you laugh more, compliments your cooking more, and encourages you to go out and have fun. Most times you do, but if you’re being honest, you’ve been enjoying time spent with him and Jungkook more.

Your movie and PS4 nights are chaotic and only egos are harmed. You and Jungkook help Jimin with job hunting, monitor his practice dancing, and watch dance videos with him. Two months since the gutter incident, you’ve gone to the park, the beach, and the river, perfected making choco-walnut cookies, and built fairy houses. 

Your days are more tiring yet satisfying, as if your apartment actually feels like a sanctuary, save for Jimin’s provocation leading to your bickering, but even that has become a welcome addition in your daily life as well.

Jungkook though is altogether a different story. You two have gone grocery shopping together more than once, had spent some mornings on a run, and some weeknights he even picks you up from work then you both grab some of Jimin’s favorite food for dinner. Those are on top of the many nights you’ve spent drinking whatever in the living room, bidding him goodnight either out the door or on your couch. You’re not exactly sure what to make of the giddiness but you shut down whatever unusual feeling there is before they start to mean anything more.

**

It started with a missed deadline, then an oversight of a risk, then your workmate Chul getting the last laugh. Sometimes, no matter how good you think things are going, all it takes is an extremely bad week, made up of extremely bad moments, to make you doubt yourself. You think some more, then you end up doubting everything else.

Am I good enough for this job? Can I really make a career here? Is this what I really want? Is this going to make me happy? Why the fuck am I still single? It’s the sudden feeling of uncertainty that overwhelms you, makes you second-guess, and suddenly you’re not as stable and secure as you thought you were. 

It’s this feeling that you carry over the day after at your friend Jin’s and his wife’s baby shower. Between their growing family, Yoongi’s hit-making record label, Hoseok’s renewed contract as a travel show host, Yuri’s PhD, and Na-eun’s engagement to her college boyfriend, you feel so… lost. Like you’re just getting by, just letting time pass until there’s something big and meaningful to look forward to again, whatever that is. 

Of course your friends would never make you feel any less; that’s really on you, which is probably worse.

The party is on full swing; gifts have been given and time has come for full-on socializing where you all get to talk about how great your individual lives are. Except for you. And maybe Eun-ha on the corner who doesn’t seem to be happy being here, but that’s not your problem. 

Somewhere near the bar is Jungkook, beer in hand and clearly enjoying himself. He’s a staple in events like this and he fits right in with everyone else - self-assured, content, in control, and may be on his way to a date, seeing as how that pretty girl hasn’t left his side all afternoon. Not that you were monitoring, though. 

For once, you’re actually hoping Jimin was here so you can whine together, but the group he used to choreograph for invited him to their concert, so there’s that. 

You’re on your third glass of champagne when you head inside Jin’s enormous house, away from the laughter and obvious put-together lives of your friends, when you see him, the man who was once your embodiment of stability, of a “good and secure life,” as your parents had said. 

He sees you, flashes his dimple-bearing smile, and walks towards you, looking extremely good in a white polo and denim jacket, brown hair slicked back. 

“___!” He greets, his arms immediately engulfing you in a tight hug, providing you the physical warmth that you haven’t felt in a while. You sigh into him, your head on his firm chest, his now sturdier frame but a reminder of the time that's passed.

You linger, prompting him to gently stroke your back like he used to after a long day at work. 

“You needed this, huh?” He observes, voice low and comforting. 

You release yourself from his hold and look up at him, his sweet smile a contrast to his commanding presence. 

“Unfortunately,” you sigh.

“Boss still not giving you due credit? Colleagues still not making it any easier? Stress still at an all-time high?” He asks, and it’s either he still reads you so well or your problems - or you - haven’t changed one bit. 

“You’re just not your usual energetic self,” he continues. “I mean, I haven’t seen your genuine smile since you arrived.”

He’s been watching you? Somehow that sends heat to your cheeks and quickens your heartbeat. 

“Just tired, is all. Plus, Jimin’s been living at home after a little accident,” you finally respond.

His face makes this charming worried expression. “House already a makeshift wrestling ring?” He laughs.

“You’d be surprised at how little damage there is in my apartment. Safe to say we’ve grown up,” you say, wide smile finally adorning your face, which he returns. You haven’t felt this light the whole week. 

“It’s nice to see you again, Joonie.”

**

You and Namjoon find a spot in the large living room, with the 2-seater couch being the only one available, the physical closeness making it difficult not to be mesmerized by his gorgeous face. His laugh is still the same, the feel of his hand under yours is still the same; the attention he gives, his thoughtful and wise words, and ability to make you feel cared for haven’t changed. 

You’re smiling more, eyes sparkling for sure, and you can’t help the way your body reacts the way it does - knees chasing his, hand tucking your hair behind your ear, voice going a key higher.

He’s still the same confident and self-assured man that you fell in love with, that you once saw a life with. It’s almost intoxicating, the way he speaks, sees the world, sees himself. You could easily fall into this again, into the ideal, the safe and secure, the expected, the could be. You think of the reasons why it didn’t work out, of what you chose when you decided to call it quits. His phone rings. He excuses himself but you still hear him. And you’re reminded why.

“I’m sure the gown looks beautiful, love. I’ll leave the party soon and meet you and our parents at the wedding planners’ office. See you in a bit.”

Your heart should be breaking but it’s just your pride that does. 

“I’m sorry, it was my uh—“ he says, unsure.

“Your fiancé,” you smile, as if reminding him.

“Yeah it’s… it’s pretty recent and we uh… we’re planning to have it in 3 months,” he explains, eyes turning sullen, lips curling into an apologetic smile.

“Congratulations, Namjoon. I’m so glad you’re happy,” you say, hoping he picks up the sincerity in your voice. 

He sits across from you again, hand on top of yours, his smile hopeful, and for the first time, you see him struggle with what to say. So you don’t give him a chance to.

“What are you still doing here?” You playfully nudge him. “You have somewhere else to be.”

“You’ll be okay?” 

“Of course. Don’t worry about me.”

He lingers this time. Maybe in another life you would’ve worked out, you would’ve loved each other better, you would’ve fought for each other. But not in this. 

He leans forward and places a soft kiss on your forehead and you shut your eyes, absorbing all the words he wishes he could say. I’m sorry. I will always care about you. I hope you find your happiness, too. 

Your eyes follow him as he walks out the door, out to the woman who could definitely give him what you couldn’t. From across the room, a pair of eyes follows your movement too, the way it has since you entered the party four hours ago. 

**

Whatever worry you initially had about getting drunk at your friend’s baby shower is out the window. You don’t mind anymore, not with your 5th glass of champagne and your 3 shots of vodka because of course, it’s Jin. You laugh along with your friends although you’re too dazed to process what they’re saying. 

Your jaw is sore from laughing over things you don’t understand so you decide to head inside, maybe call it a night and take the drinking back to your place; at least you’d be in your pjs and not in a tight dress and heels.

You’re pulling open a door that just won’t budge and you exert what little energy you have, causing you to trip on yourself only to be held steady by strong hands on your waist.

“That’s a sliding door, ___,” the familiar voice says, tone low but still teasing. 

You turn around and meet chocolate eyes looking down at you and you stare back even in your embarrassment.

“I… I think I’m drunk,” you stutter. 

You’re met with laughter. “No shit, ___. Think I didn’t notice that?”

“I…” You say, looking down at the hands still holding onto you. 

He quickly removes them, worry painting his face and you wave him off before he could apologize.

“Let’s go to a bar, Jungkook.”

**

You reasoned your decreased alcohol tolerance to your friends, which they didn’t buy but waved you off without much fanfare. They probably sensed you were out of it for a while. Or probably saw the exchange with Namjoon, who knows. 

But you’re now at a bar eating chicken wings and fries like you’re about to run out of food, the guy next to you chuckling and reminding you to breathe every once in a while. 

You finish your meal quickly and pout when you realize he’s barely touched his food. 

“You’re not eating,” you state the obvious.

“Sorry, too entertained,” he laughs, the child-like sound now so familiar, you’d recognize it anywhere.

He’s just smiling at you and you feel so small under his gaze. He saw you talking with Namjoon, taking shots, and almost tripping earlier. He’s probably wondering who this person is; definitely not the one who’s been semi-housing him the past few months.

You bury your face in your hands. “I’m so embarrassed,” you cry out.

“Hey now,” he says, hands gently removing yours from your face. He stops the one tear before it falls off.

“God, how many times have I cried in front of you, Kook? This is humiliating.”

“No one’s counting though,” he states. “It’s your drinks I’m counting and I’m thinking maybe you’ve had enough.”

You nod and he orders a can of soda and a glass of water. With light chatter and glasses clinking in the background, you two fall in comfortable silence. He’s quietly picking on his food, eyes roaming the bar while yours flit from him to the space between you, somehow wishing it isn’t as wide as it is right now. 

“I had a bad week,” you finally say. He nods.

“My friends are all accomplishing so many things, achieving their dreams and I’ve been stuck in the same company for 5 years.” 

He nods again.

“I’m a 28 year-old who got drunk at a baby shower and flirted with her ex only to find out he’s engaged.” 

Jungkook pretends not to be affected at the confirmation that you were indeed flirting with Namjoon but he nods just the same.

“And?” He asks.

“And? I’m in a bar with you, and I cried, and I’m acting like a baby because I had a terrible week and ended up doubting everything and now think I can’t get my life together. I mean, between my brother I can’t properly help, a job I can’t seem to stand out in no matter how hard I try…” You release a deep breath. “And a relationship I couldn’t keep because I wasn’t enough and I…”

“Hey, don’t say that,” he says angrily. “You’re none of those things.”

“I wasn’t sure if I wanted to have kids. And Namjoon always wanted to be a father,��� you blurt, the words not stinging as they used to.

This stuns Jungkook. Jimin had always mentioned it was a mutual breakup but never said anything more. Jungkook didn’t think it was because of this. 

“I thought I wanted a family, too. It was so easy to fall into the idea of that kind of life with him because he was the perfect person to have it with. But then one day I just started doubting it,” you sigh, recalling how hard you used to be on yourself for suddenly wanting something different.

“Sometimes I think, what if I gave myself more time, what if eventually I’d be sure?” You take a long breath. “But the uncertainty was too much and it wasn’t fair to him,” you huff. There was no blame game; you both knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault.

“Quite the dealbreaker, huh?” Jungkook wonders.

“Yeah but looking back, the other issues were just bubbling under the surface. The future was so enticing and we talked about it all the time, it seemed much more important than well, us,” you explain. 

“It was Jimin who made me realize that I hung onto Namjoon for the relationship, the potential, what it meant. He was the epitome of stability and I was the same for him but at some point, even that wasn’t enough.”

“So, earlier. Why did you, uhm,” he starts, hoping it doesn’t come out wrong.

“Flirt with him?”

Jungkook nods.

“Being with him used to make me feel like I had it together, you know? Like I had it figured out because he did and it was silly but I don’t know, maybe I wanted to trick myself into thinking that by being close to him in any way, I had it together.”

“You don’t need to have it together all the time. You just need to have it together enough.” His whole body turns to you.

“You had one bad week, we all do. But it’s over now, isn’t it? Your friends doing well in their careers? So are you. You know what not to compromise on, what to stand up for, which battles to fight. I’ve heard enough of your stories to know that there are people at work who respect you, look up to you. The way your friends, your brother, and I look up to you.”

Your lips are quivering, forcing yourself not to cry again tonight. He just always knows what to say. “That’s really sweet, Jungkook.”

“Thanks, but I wasn’t trying to be sweet. I was just being honest. You’re a lot of good things to people, ___. Isn’t that what matters? Being a little off at work and drinking then flirting with an ex don’t make you any less of a person. Okay? You’re allowed to slip up every once in a while.”

You let this sink in.

“Look at you, Jeon Jungkook. When did you get this wise? It’s like I just blinked then you’re all of a sudden so grown up.” You tease to keep yourself from breaking down.

“Like I told you, much of what I know, I got from Jimin. And what he knows, he got from you. Maybe try listening to yourself, yeah?” He smirks.

You nod, smile creeping on your face the same way all the heat is rushing to your cheeks. You feel comfortable like this, being vulnerable and sad and doubtful but he’s holding you close without touching you, making you feel safe with just his presence. In the now noisy bar, your bodies angling towards each other, and with his tender smile, you feel a type of intimacy you’ve never felt before. It’s reassuring yet enticing at the same time. And this scares you.

You both stay for another hour until you decide it’s time to head home. Jungkook had taken a cab, too in anticipation of drinking so you both decided to walk back to your apartment, knowing the couple of blocks would be enough to sober you up.

The streets are still alive with the nightlife just starting but the noise starts to tone down once you reach your neighborhood. The long walk is soothing, as Jungkook leaves you to your thoughts, except for the times he has to steady you because, well, your vodka shots are still in your system and a walk isn’t enough to flush them down. Still, you’re calm, a feeling of acceptance overtaking you.

“Thanks for tonight, Jungkook. I hope I didn’t ruin any potential date or anything just because I couldn’t get the door open,” you laugh. 

He raises an eyebrow.

“That, uh, girl seemed really into you,” you stammer. 

He chuckles, hands in his pockets and cheeks flushed at the implication of your observation. 

“That wasn't much, we were just chatting.” He turns to you. “I could see your scrunched eyebrows from where I was and thought you needed help,” he shrugs.

You sigh. He was always helpful, ever since he was a kid. 

“You know, you were always the good guy. Jimin’s other friends were so rowdy and immature. Yugyeom was always sprawled on the couch with his feet up like he owned the place; Sejun was always finishing our ice cream, and Sunghoon was such a flirt.” 

Jungkook laughs, recalling the times you were scolding all of them for messing up the house and being so annoyingly noisy and eating your snacks.

“You were always the well-behaved and mature one. Like, you barely engaged in their pranks and stupid boy talk. You’d rather watch it all unfold until it was too much and you’d help me in the kitchen always. I remember your glazed potatoes. God, that was so hilarious.”

“That was embarrassing.”

“It was funny! And adorable. You were always so kind.”

“Thanks but uh, I wasn’t trying to be kind. Well, sort of. I wanted to impress you. And I—” He doesn’t know where this is coming from but it’s like word vomit, especially now that you’ve started to walk more slowly and are looking at him. 

“It was an opportunity to be near you. Kinda wanted a lot of that back then. Even now, actually.”

You gulp, unsure of what to feel or how to react. You thought you were imagining his lingering looks, or how his eyes shone a tad brighter and his smile was a bit wider when you were around. But he’s not saying what he’s saying, right?

“I, uh. Well, maybe you look up to me like an older—“

“Don’t say sister because I never saw you as one,” he interrupts you, frustration laced in his voice as if the word is venom. “Not when I was a teenager, not in the years after, and especially not now.”

You hesitantly turn to him, his nervous face a contrast to the offended tone of his voice just seconds ago. He nibbles on his lips, a mannerism you noticed when he was a teenager who always seemed shy around you and would only relax after you talked to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. I didn’t mean to sound angry. I just—“ 

“That was your angry tone?” You tease, your laugh affirming him that you’re not upset one bit, just… unsure. You’re flattered, definitely; he is a very attractive man. Still your brother’s best friend, though.

This eases him, but prompts him to test the waters.

“I’m a gentle boy, what can I say? Most times, at least,” he says, and you don’t miss the playful tone of this voice, his eyes peering down at you, making your breath hitch and your hands clammy.

You wrap yourself with your arms - really to wipe the sweat off because you’re feeling nervous - but Jungkook takes this differently, as anyone would, and immediately unzips his jacket and puts it on you.

You slow on your tracks and you feel even warmer. He follows your pace but urges you to speed up once he feels a droplet on his cheek. You’re glad you opted to wear low heels today, tiring your calves only a little but allowing you to walk fast enough until you’re on the steps of your apartment in time to miss the sudden downpour.

Well, Jungkook doesn’t because as he enters, a portion of his torso is wet, his black shirt sticking on his skin to tease you of his toned abs that you definitely will be thinking about tonight. Between that, his damp hair, and soaked veiny arm, you curse your mind for the images it’s currently making up. 

All he did was indirectly tell you he has a crush on you, right? Or did he? He doesn’t seem as bothered as you expected him to be if that was the case so maybe you misinterpreted? 

You can’t stand this wet version of him so you say you’ll get him a towel but are too flustered so you hit the wall as you turn towards the bathroom, eliciting a loud “ow!” 

“You okay?” He asks worriedly.

“Yeah, still drunk I guess,” you lie. He smirks and probably knows you’re lying. 

“I’ll take care of myself, don’t worry. Go wash up and get ready for bed.” 

“Are you ordering me around?” You ask, trying your best to reestablish yourself as the one in authority because you can’t take how this man is making you feel nervous and unsettled and not in control. 

“Do you want me to?” He simpers, flustering you even more. What is with him? 

You roll your eyes and trudge to your bathroom. You’re technically sober but with Jungkook’s looks, the sudden flirty tone of his voice, and his innuendos, you might as well be drunk again. 

You open the door and seconds later he’s by your bedroom, a glass of water in one hand and apple juice in the other. The bottle of aspirin is tucked under his arm by his rib and he asks you to get it and you think he's evil for testing you but you take it, acting unbothered. He follows you to your room and you don’t stop him. 

Glasses now on your bedside, you tuck yourself in. “Thank you, Jungkook.”

“For what?”

“For staying with me? Listening to me?” You test the waters, too. “For caring for me?” And his smugness disappears. Before you is a man, all strong and tough yet his smile is the tiniest, softest you’ve ever seen on him, and even from where you are, you could see the tips of his ears turn red. 

“I really appreciate everything,” you conclude, and you mean it.

He gathers himself before he looks you in the eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Anything you need, just tell me.” You nod. 

“Sleep well, ___.”

**

You don’t sleep well. In fact, even with the rain pouring outside, you feel so hot, you end up shedding your shorts. 

The closeness with Jungkook has been gradual and if anything, it’s been comfortable. You convince yourself what he has is probably just a little crush; convincing your heart to still is a different story. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, can’t stop smiling. He was testing the waters tonight, gauging how you would react to his flirtation and teasing. It was partly the alcohol but then you’d gone all shy and flustered; he thought it was worth a shot.

He was half expecting you to scold him like you used to do with Sunghoon, or berate him like those guys at work but you did neither. You don’t seem to hate him, even with his indirect confession to you, and that’s really better than what he’d hoped. 

**

You wake up dissatisfied with your sleep and take your hangover necessities; dealing with Jungkook last night did add to your inebriation. 

You head out to the kitchen to prepare some beef bone soup to help with the headache, hands trying to remove the sleep from your eyes. You move like you’re on autopilot like most post-night out mornings and then you hear someone gasp.

“Shit, woman. Learn your manners and put some clothes on,” Jimin shouts. 

It wouldn’t have been bothersome had Jungkook not been here but of course, he is. Next to your brother, eyes wide and definitely trying not to look at your bare legs. It dawns on you that you indeed removed your shorts because of that very man and your face contorts in shock and embarrassment.

“Fuck. Jimin! Grab me my shorts on my bed, please!!!” You cry out and stand behind the counter.

He’s too scandalized to complain so he rushes to your room and you feel so hot all over. You avoid Jungkook’s face at all costs, which apparently is what he’s also doing.

Jimin throws your shorts on your face. “Get yourself together, jeez,” he scowls.

“You’re the one invading my space, okay, both of you,” you bite back. 

Jimin’s making faces like he always does when you scold him and Jungkook sits next to him, chuckling. 

“I shouldn’t have welcomed you, you brats. I’m used to walking around my apartment in my underwear so this is a lifestyle change.”

“Oh god, shut it. Nobody wants to imagine you without clothes on,” he cringes.

For some reason, your eyes find Jungkook, who visibly gulps. You glare at both men, and Jimin responds with an evil smile.

You return to what you were meant to do and start getting ingredients. Jungkook starts to feel bad and approaches you, mumbles to Jimin that he’ll just help. 

Jungkook appears next to you. “Did you mean that?”

You sigh. “I didn’t. Of course you two are welcome here.”

“I was referring to the other one,” he says with a low voice.

Your eyes widen and you smack his arm. “What is wrong with you? Stop teasing,” you loud-whisper, but he doesn’t miss the way you try to hide your laugh.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he smirks, and you get flustered even more. 

You’re a 28-year old getting scandalized over playful comments by this ridiculously good-looking man and you feel so pathetic but you can’t deny that it’s exciting you. It’s been a while since you’ve had someone flirt with you and pay attention to you like this, make you all giddy and entranced as if you’re an adolescent getting her first love letter or being told by her crush that she’s pretty.

There’s playfulness there but affection, too. You see it in the way he stops the teasing and smiles to himself, then proceeds to help you cook, looks at you with fondness while you eat, then forces Jimin to clean up with him. 

This continues for the next few weeks. His lingering looks on you are more flirty now and he smirks when you look away and try to hide your flushed face. His tone of voice when Jimin is nearby is lower, as if he’s telling you a secret. 

He no longer stiffens when Jimin moves to the corner of the couch and kicks you closer to Jungkook so that your brother can make space for himself. In fact, it’s the opposite now, with Jungkook finding ways to be near you - when the three of you are on a grocery run, when you’re all on the couch for movie night, and especially when Jimin opts to sit on the floor - shuffling closer, knees grazing each other’s.

You’ve kept your head to yourself, fighting the urge to rest it on his shoulder and he definitely noticed this, so he’s started to edge you, in a way. The once lingering finger touches when he hands you something are no more, so are the “accidental” elbow brushes. 

He stands close to you just enough for you to feel the heat off him but not enough to feel him. His arm over your chair leaves his hand thisclose to your shoulder and you swear you can feel the sensation even then. 

You’d stopped smacking him after this one time he flexed his bicep and you started to imagine how good those arms must look.

You found out shortly after when he and Jimin convinced you to join them in the gym because Jungkook had a voucher to a free yoga class since a client of his is a teacher; safe to say she wasn’t happy when he popped in the studio to say you were taking his slot. Jungkook and Jimin did a workout, your brother now in a better condition.

After the session, they made you wait as they finished and Jungkook really had to remove his red jacket to reveal his stupidly gorgeous toned and tattooed arms in a black fit sleeveless top. He caught you ogling and the devil crossed his arms to fucking flex and smirk when the conversation he was having with one of the trainers didn’t even seem that amusing. 

Of course, his outfit just sent your mind into another dimension with the images of what could be underneath that black top and again, you find out one morning exactly how glorious it is. 

It’s one of those post-bar night mornings - you’ve allowed Jimin to enjoy the nightlife again as long as he had chaperones, which essentially were you and Jungkook. You’d woken up and stopped by the hallway at the sound of someone gasping and you look up from the hallway, slack jawed as you watch Jungkook pull his shirt off from the back of his neck with one hand, coffee-stained clothing lying on the counter.

His black sweatpants are hanging low on his hips and does he not have any boxers on?? His tiny waist spreads out to his muscular back, and when he turns, his sculpted chest almost blinds you; pecs just the right perk and torso so taut but not intimidating at all. It’s... beautiful. It looks so smooth and captivating; your eyes can’t help but trail down south and is that black ink that’s peeking underneath the waistband? You gulp at the thought of Jungkook having a hip tattoo because what the fuck? Is he trying to kill you? And his��

“Do you have a shirt I can borrow?” He asks, and you jerk from where you’re standing. 

Your eyes turn to the appropriate body part they should be focused on and he’s smiling like he’s an angel, as if he literally didn’t just try to murder you with his exquisite bare body. 

His smile is so sweet and you know he’s playing you because he totally caught you drooling at the sight of him. Your throat is dry and suddenly you can’t speak, which really isn’t surprising by now because he’s also taken away your ability to form coherent sentences. 

“I, uhm. I’ll get one of Jimin’s.” 

“I don’t fit in his clothes. Don’t you have large ones?”

He knows you do, and you nod, unclench the thighs you didn’t even realize had betrayed you, and retrieve one of your oversized Disney t-shirts and approach him. You stay at a safe distance because any closer you might fall into temptation and you throw him the shirt. 

He chuckles and turns to his side to slowly put it on because of course there’s a fucking dent down there that he wants to show off.

You turn and trip on your foot because god knows how dizzy you feel from the show he just put on.

“Careful,” he calls out and even with your back turned, you just know he’s smirking.

He beats you to the bathroom shortly after and he took his time. 

You decide to wait with your brother who’d been so ecstatic over an audition he landed for a fairly new and small entertainment company as a choreographer for a hip-hop group. 

They told him his contemporary dance background and versatility are just what they need and you soften at his joyful face; he says he feels like a new person again. You listen to him excitedly and give encouragement.

You perk at the sound of the bathroom door opening because you really need to clean the wetness down there and you trudge out of the room so you could finally shower, slightly upset at Jungkook’s clothed form. 

You groan. “Ugh that was so long,” you mindlessly say.

“Oh it is.” His smirk is back and you are pissed. You bang the door and pull your hair out of frustration. 

He doesn’t even need to touch you for you to be a whimpering mess. He knows it. And you’re in trouble.

**

Jungkook is busy for the next two weeks, having shared that he has a couple of on-site art installations outside of the city and a tattoo piece that will need more than one 5-hour shift. You tried not to seem affected when Jimin teased him since it was going to be on a woman’s breast this time. 

“This the same one who had her vagina tattooed? The one who asked you out after?” Jimin asked.

Your eyes were burning your phone screen because you absolutely cannot be affected. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook laughed. “That was fun.”

Jin calling you was your saving grace and you spent the next half hour in your room, talking to him over nursery room ideas because Hoseok couldn’t make up his mind over a neon green or a fuschia pink wall and Yoongi wanted dark grey because “babies can’t even identify colors,” which is true but Jin needed you as the one with a more palatable taste.

Jungkook had knocked to say goodbye, which is more than his usual yelling, and you noticed him linger before you heard the steps away from your door. 

**

It was day 5 when you realized why you’d been so grumpy and you hated the moment you did - you miss Jungkook. You’d gotten so used to seeing him every few days - picking you up from work, playing rock-paper-scissors to determine who’ll choose dinner, laughing at his high-pitched child-like laughter, talking to him about work and other things… you even miss his flirting and teasing. 

He’d been such a staple in your life the past months, and not just to referee between you and Jimin. Jungkook, with his listening ear, his heartwarming passion for his work, and ability to soothe and comfort you in the silence, just feels so stable. And not in the way you used to think. He’s so laid-back and just there, always dependable, like you’re sure whatever it is you’re feeling, he’ll know what to do and say. 

Jimin used to say that Jungkook was always the person he needed for anything and now you understand why. He emits a certain calmness, joy, and consistency, like whether you’re flying or drowning, he’s the pillar grounding you or keeping you afloat. 

You’re always tempted to send him a message but you two don’t text and it’d be weird to just start now, although it doesn’t help that he doesn’t text you, too. You shrug it off and convince yourself that it really might just be a silly crush, one he acts on when he’s around you but probably forgets when he isn’t. Or maybe he went out with that girl, who knows?

On the day that he arrives, he's set to drive Jimin to the audition and watch him, too, while you’re just happy to be able to do errands and clean the house on your own. 

The doorbell rings and Jimin, whom you’ve reminded to shower so he won’t be late, answers the door and you try not to look intrigued when you hear him rambling about how good Jungkook apparently looks because how else can he look better?

With ash-grey hair, that’s how. You couldn’t help it. You peeked and turned your head before he could turn to look at you.

You’re currently by the kitchen counter, tiptoeing to try to get the cereal box on the top shelf to check if you need to buy another or if it would suffice. Or if it’s even still edible. You’ll be off for a quick grocery run if only you can get this stupid box out.

Then a large hand is touching your lower back and the fresh scent of detergent fills your nose. You stiffen as an arm is raised to easily grab the cereal box you’ve spent the past 5 minutes trying to get and fuck do you miss his touch, his scent that you realize is just as comforting as his soft sweatshirts, and the way you feel a jolt of electricity even at the slightest brush of his body on yours.

He places the box on the counter. “You should’ve asked,” he says, voice low.

“I can do it,” you respond, gaining the courage to look at him and your lips betray you at how they part because he looks so good with his new hair. 

“I know. I just like it when you ask.” He tries to keep his eyes on you but they keep falling to your lips, the one he’d been imagining the feel and taste of. But your eyes lock on his, letting yourself be hypnotized. 

You feel his touch drift away from you and you stop him, as your hand finds his and keeps it on your waist, and it signals him to grip tighter and pull you closer. And you let him. You angle yourself so you’re standing chest to chest, you could almost feel his heart beat just as fast as yours.

“What else?” You indulge yourself because you just wanna know. You've missed him and you can’t reconcile the flirting with his recent silence.

Jungkook bites his lip, knowing it’s his signal to tell you how he feels.

“I like it when you say my name, when you listen to me talk and take me seriously. When you don’t make me feel bad about the things I do, the things I choose.”

His hand that isn’t on your waist glides through your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. It settles on your cheek and you hope he doesn’t notice just how hot it is.

“I like it when you pout and when you smile with your eyes,” he continues. “And I like it when you need me because then I know I’m not the only one, because fuck do I need you,” he continues, both hands pulling you closer to him until his breath grazes your mouth. 

“Want you so much,” he mumbles, before he eliminates the distance and you feel his soft lips on yours, moving tenderly, carefully, as if the purpose is to seek validation that you feel the same way, to ask your acceptance of the overwhelming affection he has for you. 

Your lips move gently like his, languid yet electrifying and euphoric and you hold onto him for support, just so you won’t lose yourself even more than you already are.

This now feels surreal. You’re not thinking about anything else - not the before or the after - just the feel of him at this very moment and how it’s making you feel alive, carefree, unbound. And you wonder if all your other kisses had felt this good before. Or maybe just different. 

You and Jungkook keep your steady pace, focusing on the soothing feel of each other’s lips, of the sensation of something sensuous and tender.

The aggressive pull of the bathroom door jolts you awake from a dream it seems, and you’re ducking down and crouching on the floor behind the counter before your brother notices anything amiss. Jungkook’s surprised but holds his laugh at how scared you look, the first time he’d seen you be afraid of your brother.

“Kook, has my sister left for the grocery?” He calls out from his open room, probably dressing as he speaks.

Jungkook looks up to check on Jimin. “Yeah, she just left,” he answers after deciphering your hand gestures from underneath him.

“Ugh, I forgot to tell her to buy my cereal. I think the one on the top shelf isn’t edible anymore.”

Jungkook smirks, thanking the heavens that Jimin didn’t tell you, otherwise Jungkook wouldn’t have had the best kiss of his life. He felt you; you moved with him, you felt him. And he can’t be happier.

He has a chance with you. He really has a chance with you, and even at the risk of being caught, he’d do this with you over and over again.

“Let’s go,” Jimin calls out. “I’ll just text her.”

“I’m sure she knows,” Jungkook smirks then heads out, leaving you with a dazed feeling and a heart that won’t slow its beating. 

**

Your time alone with your thoughts only served to confuse you even more. It felt nice. He felt nice. You’d never really considered Jungkook as anything more than, well, your brother’s best friend, even if he’d been the one you preferred out of all of Jimin’s friends dating back to middle school. 

His well-behaved nature and boyish charms were always endearing to you and even when he grew up, his confidence and compassion just amazed you. But it was always from afar. You think it’s the same with him; his affection may just be a little infatuation borne out of his idea of you growing up. You’ve learned enough that the idea of a person, of a relationship, of a could be isn’t always enough.

Another thing you think about is that Jimin is very protective of his friendships. You know that more than anyone, when you dated Taemin in high school. 

You were both seniors and had gotten close because he was Jimin’s dance captain and mentor, someone whom your brother looked up to and admired. Your relationship ended during your first year of college, with both of you saying things you eventually regretted. Safe to say it was your first heartbreak, one that resulted to Jimin’s as well, as his friendship with your ex was also affected.

You and Jimin barely talked about it, seeing his own disappointment because of the resulting strained relationship with Taemin. You thought that the elder would at least maintain a friendship, but he didn’t. 

The most Jimin said about it was when he told you, eyes downcast but tone quite angry, to “keep off my friends and don’t date any of them, please.” You were home for a break and he stormed out of your room before you could apologize. You realized later on that his heartbreak was worse than yours; you told yourself you don’t want to be the cause of that pained look on his face ever again.

His friends are off-limits, he made it pretty clear. Taemin was a mentor but one Jimin eventually did without. But Jungkook is his best friend, his brother. They’ve looked out for each other for more than half of their lives; you can’t even imagine what would happen if you and Jungkook get together and then fight, or break up. 

You wouldn’t want Jimin to have to give up a friendship that means more to him than anything. Or more accurately, you wouldn’t want to lose Jimin over something that might not mean as much anyway. 

You stick to the latter thought, especially when both men arrive home and Jimin is beaming, his smile something you’d never admit actually makes your heart feel all sorts of fuzziness and pride. He’s so excited and you feel it, too, moreso because he informs you that he got the job.

“They really liked me! They said I can really mentor the group and their team is so creative and passionate…” Jimin goes on, narrating every single thing that happened right as he entered the studio. You’ve never seen him this elated, not even with his previous company that was at the top of their game. 

“And they said I don’t have to work right away! They’ll wait for my doctor’s clearance but I can go to work to observe and get to know them more.”

Your eyes moisten because not long ago, you saw the joy in your brother wither away, his passion deteriorate, and his plans go on a standstill. But now, it’s like he didn’t go through a slump or moments of weakness, like he didn’t go through a depressive mode when he thought he’d lost everything. He’s really a fighter, and you truly look up to him. 

“I wouldn’t have made it if it wasn’t for you two,” Jimin continues, pulling both of you in a three-way hug because of course your brother wouldn’t hug just you.

This prompts Jungkook to wrap his arm around you, hand gripping your waist while yours settles for mere pats on his lower back. He tries not to dwell on this minimal contact, or on the way you purposely avoid his gaze. He tries not to think too much when you actively lean towards your brother more during your dinner out, or how you jerk away when any of Jungkook’s body parts comes in close contact with yours.

He’s thinking maybe you’re not in the mood for his playful antics or maybe, he really pushed too far with the kiss from earlier, and it sends him in an internal panic mode because just as his hope of starting something more with you was blooming, it quickly gets shot down just like that. 

It’s when you pass up on games and drinks in your living room when you get back so you could just stay in your room did Jungkook think that he may really have blown his chance.

**

You try to be subtle in your avoidance of Jungkook but it’s harder than expected, especially since Jimin still invites him over. With the excitement of the new job now steadying, Jimin announces his checklist for getting through a crisis - healed foot, check; new job, check. That’s pretty much it, really. “But I still need you two,” he says.

Jungkook comes over and at the start, you notice how he still tries. He attempts to catch your gaze, goes near you, engages you in conversation, makes jokes, lingers before leaving… only to be met with eyes that don’t seek him, short answers, forced laughter, and cold goodbyes. And you absolutely hate it. 

He’s around yet you miss him even more than when he was away, but you can’t fall into the things that made you feel something for him in the first place. 

Living with Jimin made you appreciate him so much more, and you’re glad you get to be this close with him for the first time, and you don’t want to jeopardize that. 

Jungkook had much to do with the newfound attachment with your brother, yet it’s exactly why you’re hesitant to give Jungkook a chance. Their relationship is sacred, similar to how yours with Jimin is. What you and Jungkook have is a by-product of those, and it’s not the priority. Somehow you think all three can’t coexist; you can’t have it all, really.

Whenever Jungkook makes an effort, Jimin’s plea to keep off his friends rings in your head. You know, too, that Jimin gave his friends an ultimatum - date my sister or keep your dicks, something like that. It was funny when you heard of it, but it’s definitely not a laughing matter now. 

Those words were said years ago yet they still hang above your head. You wish Jungkook would just make it easier for you, but why is it that when he stopped trying did you feel your heart break, as if you’re losing something you never had in the first place?

**

It’s easy to reason you feel sick and tired; you’ve been spending later hours at work so spending more time in your room and asking the boys to make dinner instead seem reasonable. But tonight, Jimin isn’t having it.

“We’re celebrating, stay here,” he says, pulling you to the couch next to him. Jungkook is on his right, his once tendency to stiffen around you back again, and you sadden at the thought because he looks so uncomfortable.

“Celebrating what?” You ask, grabbing the beer being handed to you. 

“I’ve been working for 2 weeks and I haven’t reinjured my foot,” he says, his smile blinding you.

Normally you’d roll your eyes at his shallowness but you just agree and mindlessly sip the beer, eyes veering off in the distance.

“Is it a guy?” Jimin asks out of nowhere and you try not to choke. “You only ever get this sulky when it’s about a guy. Is it someone from work?” Jimin states with furrowed eyebrows. 

“Oh! Is it one of the managers who’s been trying to ask you out but he’s the ex of your close friend?” 

You try to remember when you told him that but it was definitely a months-ago issue. 

“Or did you have an epiphany and realized you actually like Yoongi? Or Hoseok? Or maybe Jin but he’s married?”

“What the hell, Jimin!” You say, smacking his arm. Your eyes flit to Jungkook who’s focused on the TV.

“The first one,” you lie to satisfy your brother. 

“It’s kind of a code, you know? He’s Yuri’s ex and she really loved him and I don’t want to ruin my friendship over something I’m not sure is worth it anyway.” And with that, you see Jungkook’s jaw clench. He knows about Yuri and the manager; they were merely a fling, so he knows you’re lying.

“How do you know it’s not worth it if you haven’t even tried?” Jimin asks, incredulous.

“I don’t know, it’s just… Yuri’s my friend and I don’t wanna mess up a friendship.”

“Seems like you don’t trust your friendship with Yuri enough, then,” Jimin states like it’s a fact. This hits your more than it should. Do you really not trust in your relationship with your own brother? Surely you have a basis to be hesitant, but if it only it were that simple.

Jimin picks up on your silence and asks again. “How are you and the guy like? Do you have moments with him?”

“Lots of them,” you say, your eyes finding Jungkook just on the other side of the couch and he’s never felt farther away. 

“And for the first time it’s like I get to savor them. Whether it’s something sweet that he does, or if we’re just together in silence, or when he’s being flirty,” and you don’t see it but Jungkook catches you smiling at the thought and god does he wish you’re lying about this one unless it’s about him. He wishes it is.

“Sounds like a keeper if he gets you to enjoy moments, don’t you think? For someone like you?” Jimin says, cocking an eyebrow.

“Like me?”

“You think too much, you know? You plan, you analyze, you manage risks… I mean, yeah sure they help I guess but this isn’t a job, ___. There’s no profit to be earned here, no losses,” he points out. 

“The only loss is you missing out on something good because you’re too focused on what could happen, and not what’s actually happening, right now.” He's told you a variation of this before, but somehow this hits differently, and more than it should.

“Did you teach that to Jungkook, too?” You ask, a smile creeping up and you digress because you need anything to stop you from walking to Jungkook and holding him close to you.

“No, he taught me that,” Jimin states. “I know it seems like I teach him a lot - well, all I really told him was to never let anybody dictate what he wants and deserves in life, and I stand by that, but to be clear,” Jimin turns to you, “I learn just as much from him. He’s his own self; nobody tells him what to do.”

It’s all meant to be assuring, comforting even, if only Jimin knew. And if only it were that simple. The tension is suffocating but your brother breathes easy. You love him more than you can ever say and his happiness has meant more to you than you ever imagined. You just wish your own didn’t come at a cost.

**

A few days later, Jungkook is back at your place and you had quite the reflective week and opted to stay in your room. 

Some days you just want to bask in your own thoughts; absorbing yourself in your own emotions helps in figuring out what to do, you’ve realized. You’re still a thinker and a planner - that’s probably never gonna change - but you’re starting to at least let yourself feel and enjoy the now, or something like it. You just wish the person you want to spend your now with hasn’t changed his mind.

It’s almost midnight when you decide to head out, your early dinner long digested and you feel hunger creeping in.

You exit your room and stop in your tracks at the sight of Jungkook in your kitchen, all alone. You definitely weren’t ready for this.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were still here,” and you regret it immediately, not wanting to sound disappointed.

He looks up, alarmed at your presence because he wasn’t expecting this, too.

“Jimin fell asleep on me but don’t worry, I was just about to leave,” he responds, eyes not meeting yours. 

“He’s also gonna be coming over my place now since he’s able. Don’t want you to feel like a prisoner in your own home,” he says, motioning to your room where you’ve been hiding recently. 

“Since you’re avoiding me and all,” he continues, and you don’t miss the hurt look on his face. 

You mentally give yourself a pep talk because you definitely want him to still come around and you’re definitely being stupid. 

“I… I wasn’t avoiding you,” you say, blocking his way by the couch as he’s about to reach for his jacket.

He stops in front of you, ensuring some distance. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, you were just not minding me and making sure you stayed as far away from me as possible.” He’s trying to sound bitter but you’re his weakness and he will always go soft on you because his tender eyes are definitely not a match to his bitter words.

“I just didn’t know what to do. You didn’t exactly say what you felt and—“

“I kissed you, ___,” he says, tone suppressing frustration.

“I told you I needed you, wanted you. And you kissed me back. The way you looked at me that day, the way you held me… it meant more, I could feel it. So I don’t know how you could just act like none of that happened, like it didn’t matter,” he continues.

“Jungkook… you’re my brother’s bestest friend. And he’s very protective of his friends, of you.” 

And it’s ironic, Jungkook thinks, how Jimin is the reason why you two had met, got close; how Jimin’s what got you together but is also who’s keeping you apart.

“He’s also the one who constantly reminds me to go for what I want, to never let anybody tell me what to do,” Jungkook says.

“Yeah but this is different. I don’t want anything to come in between you two, the same way I don’t want anything to come in between him and me.”

“So it’s okay for him to come in between us? You really think he’d be okay with that? That he’d keep the two people he loves the most from being together? From being happy?”

And you hate that he’s right.

“What Jimin is to us is out of our control,” he states. “But that shouldn’t be why we can’t try, right? Because god I’ve wanted you since I was 15 and and I’ve waited too long for this and I’d either fight for us or keep us a secret, I don’t care. Just don’t lie to me, please.”

By now he’s standing in front of you and he could pin you against the armrest if he wanted to but he’s keeping his hands to himself, fists clenched at the control he’s trying to maintain because of his intense feelings for you. He’d make you feel it all too, if you just let him.

You can move away if you wanted; there’s space for it. But you don’t. Jungkook bared everything to you, braving through just to be with you; the least you could do is be honest. So with your own strength, you look up at him. 

“You made me fall for the moments, Jungkook. You made me fall for you, and there were so many things to consider and I—“

Your rear hits the armrest, as you’d reflexively walked back as he started to move towards you, slowly eliminating the distance. His arms, sandwiching you, are propped on the couch to support his spread out frame, his face now level with yours. You’re burning with how he’s looking at you with so much hope and yearning.

“Go on,” he says, voice low, his eyes wandering all over your face and you feel your heat dampen with just his gaze. 

“I didn’t know what to do with what I’d started to feel for you because you were off-limits but that didn’t keep me from wanting you and—“

His lips graze the side of your neck and with your breath hitching, he proceeds. Open-mouth kisses trail your neck, with just enough wetness and just enough heat to leave you wanting more. You angle your neck for more access and he smirks at this. 

“And what?” He urges you, mouth focusing on the other side of your neck now, head nudging yours to adjust. 

“And I avoided you because—“ 

You grip the couch for support, as you unravel with his hot breath on your skin.

“That seemed easier than to keep at what we were doing knowing that—“ 

He licks a sensitive part by your ear and your strangled moan spurs him on. 

“I couldn’t have you the way I wanted to.” 

At this, he stops. 

He focuses his gaze on you again. Jungkook holds onto the tiniest shred of self-control he has left just so he can savor you like this, emotions unraveling and your body falling apart before him. 

“How exactly do you want me?”

You steady your breath and as much as you want to give in to your carnal desire and attack his lips, you want him to know how much this means to you. You’re still scared but being with Jungkook steadies you, makes it all feel worth it.

You’re crossing this line now, and you’ll stick with him whether you’ll both come clean or keep it a secret. He wants you enough right now; you’ll figure out what to do eventually. 

Your hand finds his face and fingers trace the scar on his cheek. You let yourself drown in his beautiful eyes, knowing on clear nights you could see galaxies like this. 

“I want you close, Jungkook. I want you to hold me, when I’m sad, happy, confused. I want to hold you that way, too. I want to savor every moment, let you know everyday what you mean to me.”

Your featherlight touches on his jaw send shivers all over his body and he hums at the sensation. You caress his lips before he could bite them again, palming him with your thumb and feeling its softness.

“I want you to fall apart under my touch, want to make you feel good, kiss you like it’s always the last time.”

Jungkook thinks he deserves a prize for how well he’s keeping himself together and not yet taking you on this couch like his dick is telling him to. But he needed to hear all that, needed to look in your eyes while you said them.

Then you smile at him, eyes filled with desire, and that’s all it takes for him to lose his resolve and plunge into you, your plush lips against his soft ones, melding together again like a literal dream. He straightens his stance so his hands can cup your face and he feels you smile in the kiss, relishing in the care and attention he’s giving.

It starts tenderly then quickly turns heated, his eager hands trailing down your arms and waist, and your own entangling his hair, pulling the strands as he nips your lips, prompting them to open. 

Your tongues explore each other’s mouths, his lingering taste of rootbeer somehow making him more addictive. You swallow each other’s sounds, both of you still having half a mind to tone down, knowing that only a wall separates your wanton moans and your sleeping brother.

His grip around you tightens and you pull him closer, your hands now around his neck, fingers thumbing his cheeks and you’re losing yourself to him, as the past few months of undeniable attraction and sexual tension climaxing at this moment where you finally give in to what you’ve been trying to suppress.

Jungkook, on the other hand, feels a sense of calm even with his hard dick and his thumping heart because he’s dreamed of this, dreamed of you, and you’re here wanting him, too. All the memories of watching you from afar, blushing at how beautiful you are, missing you when you were away, heart breaking at how happy you were with someone else, fly by him like a movie because he’s got his ending - you. 

He’s lived for moments most of his life and always knew to savor them, to bask in them because he doesn’t know when he’ll get to have those again. But nothing comes close to right now with you and he decides to make sure he’ll have you like this everyday. 

Both your actions continue, hands stationary but mouths eagerly moving against each other, stopping momentarily for air but smiling, laughing in the kiss.

You give in first, fingers slowly trailing down to graze at his chest and he shivers, curses mid-kiss and you giggle, and he’s on cloud 9 again, realizing he can hear the beautiful sound that is your laughter everyday. 

Suddenly it’s all thoughts of what’s ahead for both of you, imagining what that would be like - feeling, holding, touching each other. You’re both so lost in your little world, minds traveling from now to tomorrow and it’s exciting, so incredibly alluring to be savoring this moment but also thinking about the next. 

You’re light-headed now because kissing him is like a drug, soothing yet exhilarating at the same time and you’re aching to feel him. “Jungkook…” You whine. 

And then.

“HOLY SHIT,” you hear a gasp.

Your eyes burst open and you feel Jungkook stiffen before you try to push him away. You both stull, looking at each other, some distance now between you, and you can hear a pin drop with how quiet it is, the tension so thick that you’re afraid to move. 

You knew at one point you’re gonna have to tell Jimin but not now and definitely not in the middle of a fucking make-out session.

“Is this a hookup or are you both finally out of your asses and would actually like to properly date because god knows it’s about time?”

You and Jungkook slowly turn to the side, eyes wide at your brother who’s leaning by the wall, checking his nails as if he didn’t just give you a heart attack.

“WHAT?” You ask.

“Jungkook’s been into you since forever but never had the fucking guts to do anything.” Jimin sighs and rolls his eyes at the man. “You’re not exactly subtle with your staring.”

Jungkook can’t seem to wrap his head around what's happening because his mouth keeps moving but no sound comes out.

“Neither are you,” Jimin eyes you this time. “You forget I’m good with reading people. And also, I’m friends with Yuri. She doesn’t even remember that guy,” he laughs because of course they’re friends. You feel so stupid; you should’ve known he was trying to catch you in a lie when he asked if your sulking was because of a “guy.”

“So you’ve always known?” Jungkook finally finds his voice.

“About you, duh. She’s recent,” Jimin points to you. “It’s like, one moment you’re friendly then you’re flirty then it’s like you can’t stand each other. Get your shit together, people. I’m literally right here.”

God, you and Jungkook were definitely not subtle. And underestimated your brother, too.

“So you’re not mad?” You confirm.

“No.”

“But… you said you were gonna cut my dick off,” Jungkook stammers.

“And you told me to keep off your friends because of Taemin,” you add. “You stopped being friends because of me,” you remind him, voice almost a whisper.

Jimin takes a deep breath because now he has to come clean.

“We stopped being friends because of him. He hurt you, ___, and you didn’t deserve that,” he admits, avoiding your questioning gaze. “I heard you crying to Jin about what happened and I got angry and wanted you to stay away from my friends because they were all assholes.” He continues, jaw clenched at the memory. “Well, except for him,” he cocks his head towards Jungkook. 

“He was the only good guy. I never really minded if he went for you because... iknowhe’lltreatyouwellandyoudeservethat,” Jimin says.

And you’re not gonna lie, you feel like crying. Jimin’s been trying to protect you all this time. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, isn’t taking this all too well.

“You said you were gonna cut my dick off…” He says again, tone low and unbelieving.

“That didn’t stop you, did it?” Jimin counters, earning him a sigh of defeat because he has a point. 

“I just wanted it to happen naturally,” he explains. “I mean, I didn’t plan on getting heartbroken, injured, unemployed, then homeless all at once but it happened and you both helped me and that unintentionally brought you together and I…” 

He turns to you both. “I realized how good you are together. Not just in taking care of me but in taking care of each other, too.”

By this time, Jungkook has found his feet and is back to standing in front of you, his hand intertwining with yours. You let out a laugh because this whole time, Jimin wasn’t in the dark. But then again, he’s a smart ass too and would’ve figured it out.

And would also push it. “I actually got over Taehyung months ago so like, I’ve been okay for a while,” he shrugs.

And just like that, he gets on your nerves again because that’s how he’s been getting his way, by reminding you of his “broken heart that’s still hurting.” 

“You little bitch! Do you also have a new apartment now and you’re not telling me?!” You shriek, and Jungkook next to you is finally laughing. 

“Oh no,” Jimin responds. “I’m really still homeless.”

And he smiles his sickly sweet smile and you can’t help but mirror it. Your brother is really something, and you don’t know what you’d do without him.

Some seconds pass and you’re just all basking in this moment because for the first time in months, it really feels like things are looking out for all of you.

“So in that case,” Jungkook turns to you. “Would you like to go on a date with me?” Hopeful eyes staring at you, a weight off his shoulder now that he doesn’t need to hide anything from his best friend. He can just focus on falling in love with you and making you do the same. 

“Yes,” you excitedly reply, hand trailing down his chest again. “And in that case, would you like to continue this in my bedroom?”

Jungkook feels his dick twitch. “Fuck, yes.”

“Guess I’m gonna have to sleep on the couch now,” Jimin groans, but you don’t miss his playful tone. “You’re both welcome, idiots.”

**

You’re pushed to the wall right as the door closes and Jungkook’s lips meet yours immediately. It tastes much sweeter knowing there’s no need to hide, to be careful. It’s liberating and it’s making you feel more.

He kisses you harshly as his hands make quick work of your shirt, pulling them off then slowly kneeling down in tandem with his mouth sucking, licking, and kissing down to your breasts, then your torso, causing your chest to heave at the pleasure from just his mouth.

His hands aggressively pull down your bottoms and his tongue finds your clit before you can even process his action. He’s nibbling your bud and laving at your lips and pumping his fingers in you all at once, you don’t know where to focus. 

You feel the desperation and intensity with every move, the sensation overwhelming and eliciting lewd sounds from you. He alternates between moaning and cursing on your cunt and that just adds to the pleasure.

“Eager, aren’t we?” You ask with a smirk.

“You have no idea,” he responds, head buried between your thighs, one of which is currently resting on his shoulder. “Some of my wet dreams may have been because of you.”

“What the fuck Jungkook!”

“I was a growing boy with raging teen hormones!” He says in between breaths. But he doesn’t relent. Fingers curling in your hole, tongue swirling on your clit, and hand squeezing your ass, he’s determined to make you cum now, and with a hard suck, you do. 

You jerk away at the oversensitivity with his mouth still on you and you pull him up to give him a kiss, tasting yourself on him.

At the sight of you bare, eyes half-lidded and steadying breath, he stills.

“Is everything okay?” You ask.

“Yeah I just…” He starts, stepping back a bit, and his eyes roam your body, smile creeping up his face. “I never thought I’d get to have you like this. I always admired you from afar and you always felt so out of reach and I…”

“Jungkook,” you stop him. 

“I’m here with you right now, barely any distance. I’m not your best friend’s sister, okay?” Your hand reaches out to him and he takes it, let’s you pull him closer. “I’m the girl you like whom you’ll take out on a date after you fuck her senseless. Got it?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammers, a shy laugh escaping him. 

You kiss him softly. “No need to admire me from a distance anymore. You have me, right here.”

“Okay.”

And before he can attack you again, you lead him towards your bed. Your fingers pull the waistband of his sweats as you sit on the edge and look up at him, wide eyes eager for something.

“Shirt off,” you say, and he follows.

Your eyes meet your hands that are slowly ridding him of his remaining clothing and you swear you could come again at the sight of the tiger lily tattoo resting on his hip. It curves with his semi-defined v-line, the stem trailing downward, like some pathway to his throbbing dick that’s leaking with some pre-cum.

You take him in your hands and he bucks at the feel of your soft skin around his length that’s aching to be inside you. Your eyes stay on the tattoo; something about it is so hot and you kiss it, lips then exploring the expanse of his hip and up to the part of his torso that you can reach, feeling the ridges of his definitely smooth abs, now tensing at the sensation. 

All the while, your hand is stroking his member, up and down as you continue kissing and licking his pelvis and just like this, he already tastes so good. He grunts with your ministrations, head falling back at the intense pleasure. His hands fall to your hair as you take him in, tongue traversing his dick and your heat clenches at the salty taste of cum and the feel of his veins as his shaft twitches in your mouth.

At the vibration caused by your moan, he stops you, removes himself from you and then lays half your body down on the edge of the bed. 

“My turn,” he says smugly.

You’re about to protest but he swirls his tongue all over your cunt again, the pad of his thumb flicking your nub and you moan his name instead. You haven’t fully recovered from your first orgasm yet but he seems determined to give you another one. He’s eating you like a man starved, as if he plans to slurp you dry.

“More, Jungkook,” you breathe out, then he’s pumping his dick and thrusting into you, the stretch just a tad bit painful but so, so good. 

He quickly adjusts, spreads your legs open for his easy access and the view, and he growls at the supple flesh that's taking him so well. It’s so erotic, watching himself go in and out of you like this, then hearing your deliciously hypnotic moans louden as his hands start kneading your breasts like it’s some dough he’s molding to his liking, his fingers flicking the hardened nipples.

“You feel so fucking heavenly, ___,” he pants. “Fuck, fuck. Can’t believe you’re mine.”

“All yours, Kook,” you respond, delirious now because his movements are really sending you to another dimension. “Fuck me harder,” you beg, and he follows. 

He adjusts again, flushing your legs against you and the angle in which his dick hits your sweet spot causes your eyes to roll to the back of your head. 

You’re screaming expletives and it’s just urging him to go harder, deeper, faster, his sweat trickling down his temples and forming on his chest.

“Cum for me, baby. I need to feel you,” he huffs. 

He’s in a frenzied state and he’s losing himself in you, his mouth now parted and he joins your filthy wails, which are in tune with the sound of skin slapping on skin. 

You feel your body spasm and you call out his name before you give in, heart stopping for a moment and he feels the stream of your cum coat his dick that’s just savoring this a bit more.

But you clench and it’s all it takes, his own seed spurting in you and your back arches as he comes down from his high by languidly kissing your breasts, one hand around your lifted waist and the other, intertwining your hand. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. So much better than I imagined,” he utters, sounding so winded at the intensity of his orgasm.

He’s too tired to even move, body now resting on top of you, chest heaving and bated breaths escaping him. You massage his head and he moans even at that and you laugh but soften at the intimacy of it all.

He finally gets himself off you and you chuckle as he sneakily opens the door and tiptoes to the bathroom, careful not to be caught naked by your brother. He returns with a wet towel, wipes you, then lays next to you, his arm secured around your waist.

He’s smiling so fondly, lips now peppering kisses all over your face. “You’re stuck with me,” he states.

“Nowhere I'd rather be,” you reply, your own soft kiss now turning greedy again, and you think it’s gonna be a long night.

**

You wake up tired but you’re not complaining. It was quite the evening, after all, and you’re reminded by the fluff of grey hair adorning your chest. Jungkook likes to cuddle, you’ve learned, and he couldn’t sleep without a part of his body touching you. 

You release from his hold and head to the kitchen after washing up, not expecting your brother to already be eating his cereal.

“Oh my god, can you wear shorts?” He huffs. 

“Bitch, you’re in my apartment,” you bite back, laughing at the face he makes. 

Your front is to the counter when Jungkook approaches and unlike before, heads to you, arms wrapped around your waist from behind and places a kiss on your cheek. “Good morning.”

His voice is hoarse and you hold back a moan because it just brings you back to last night when after you came the second time, he fucked you softly for your third, then fucked you hard for your fourth, then softly again this morning for your (extended) fifth. God, this man will be the death of you. 

He nuzzles your neck and you giggle.

“Manners, you two. You’re like teenagers,” Jimin scowls.

“Well, I am living my teenage dream,” Jungkook announces. 

Jimin grimaces but softens at the look of his two favorite people looking so happy. “Okay, this is gonna take some getting used to.”

You and Jungkook playfully nod in agreement.

“Also,” he turns to Jungkook who’s now managed to tear away from you. “Are you gonna be here again tonight because you know, I kinda wanna sleep on a bed and all. Couch is great but like, no.”

“You better find your own place soon if you don’t want to keep sleeping there every night,” you reply smugly.

“Okay, now gross!” Jimin, dramatic as always, pretend-gags at the implication. “I’m gonna look for places. Jungkook, you’re still my best friend. We’re going apartment hunting tomorrow.”

“But…” You start.

“No. Nuh-uh. You had him last night and you’re going out on a date today. You need to share my best friend.”

And you all laugh at him throwing a tantrum. He and Jungkook start to bicker and you walk towards your room to grab shorts because it really is awkward when your brother is there. 

The doorbell rings as you’re about to walk back and you open the door, a surprised look on your face.

“Hi, is Jimin there?” The person asks.

**

You head back to the kitchen, your guest in tow and you call out to your brother.

“Chim, someone’s looking for you.”

Jimin looks up and almost falls off the chair.

“Taehyung?” He says, trying to mask the nervous tone of his voice. “I…”

“I have something to confess,” Taehyung cuts him off, eyes nervous but hopeful. “Can we, uhm, maybe talk somewhere else?” 

Jimin nods and quickly follows him out.

You walk back to Jungkook and he tugs you close, hands back to your waist. “What’s that about?” 

You bite back an excited squeal as you think back to what Taehyung told you at the door. 

“Let’s just say, you might not need to help Jimin look for an apartment anymore,” you respond. 

Jungkook smiles and pulls you in for a hug, reveling in this absolutely perfect moment. 

“You Park siblings drive me crazy, you know that? And you two make me so damn happy.”

##

masterlist

[kirammama]

Growing Up Kiramman

Seven-year-old Caitlyn Kiramman’s world has been turned completely upside down. Her mother, Cassandra, is the newest member of the Piltover Council, and between long work days and a seemingly endless list of official duties, she’s away from home a lot more often. And while Caitlyn does love all the extra one-on-one time she’s getting with her father, Tobias, things are just not the same without her mother around. Life in the Kiramman Mansion is changing fast, and only one thing’s for certain: this new normal is definitely going to take some getting used to.

Chapter One: Caitlyn

(you are precisely my cup of tea)

Caitlyn Kiramman should not be awake right now.

The deep, elegant chime of the grandfather clock at the end of the corridor tells her that it’s now an hour past her bedtime. Her parents would certainly not be happy with her if they knew she was still up. When her father tucked her into bed earlier that evening, he reminded her to go to sleep straight away so she would be well-rested and ready for the busy morning ahead of them.

And she tried, honestly she did. Caitlyn went through every trick she knows to help herself fall asleep faster. A tiny drop of lavender oil on each of her wrists, just like her mother showed her. Canopy drapes pulled shut on all sides of the bed. Favorite baby doll nestled snugly beside her. Deep belly breaths, in through her nose and out through her mouth. Caitlyn tried counting all the way to one hundred as slowly as she could, and then, when even that didn’t work, she did it again backwards.

Linens of the most luxurious Ionian silk and soft, feather-light comforter that, on any other night, would have kept the youngest Kiramman cozy and sound asleep through the night lie unkempt on the mattress, crumpled and bunched from her tossing and turning. Caitlyn burrows deeper into her bedsheets, doing her absolute best to resist the temptation to make her way to the comfort of her parents’ room. She is not a baby who needs to be held and rocked into slumber. She is nearly eight, and she is more than capable of putting herself to bed and staying there until morning.

Tonight, however, she doesn’t want to fall asleep. Sleep only makes tomorrow come faster. And Caitlyn has felt the dread and the worry all week – an uncomfortable knot deep in the pit of her tummy – just thinking about the day that’s now only mere hours away.

A hot, prickling sensation tickles the corners of her eyes, but Caitlyn blinks it away. She rolls onto her side and curls up slightly, hugging her arms around her doll. The sensible thing to do would be to stop thinking about tomorrow altogether, because the longer she dwells on it the worse she feels. Besides, her mother will only be gone for five days… which is really only four nights. And, of course, Papa will be home with her the entire time. They have already talked about all the fun things they’re going to do while Mama is away. There simply won’t be any time to miss her.

Young Caitlyn considers herself to be somewhat of a seasoned traveler. Her parents have brought her on holidays to lovely places all over Valoran for as long as she can remember. Every spring, they take a trip to Ionia to visit relatives and celebrate the Spirit Blossom Festival together. Caitlyn loves playing with her cousins… even though they always like to tell her that she “talks funny.” And her uncle always sends them home with a crate full of yummy sun apples fresh from the family orchard!

Caitlyn has never been to Demacia before, but she’s seen the most exquisite paintings of the palace gardens and the snowy hinterlands at the museum. Her father’s copy of Encyclopedia Valorannica has an entire volume dedicated to the kingdom, and it’s full of illustrations. Just the other night, Caitlyn had been talking to her mother about her upcoming trip and learned that she was going to stay in a hotel located right at the heart of the Great City.

“Maybe Papa and I could go with you,” Caitlyn had suggested, resting her chin atop crossed arms against the desk in the family study, where her mother sat filling out some paperwork. “We could stay in our own room at the hotel and tour the city whilst you work.”

But her mother’s only response had been a soft chuckle and a smile, as though Caitlyn’s itinerary was merely a whimsical wish, and then she is quick to redirect their conversation. “Don’t lean like that, darling. It’s unbecoming.”

It isn’t fair, Caitlyn thinks to herself. She had been entirely serious about her plan, but her mother brushed it off like it was nothing. The frustration from that night returns and Caitlyn scowls, pressing her face into the back of her doll’s bonnet. Perhaps she should just give up on sleep. At this rate, she’s going to be awake all night.  

Caitlyn is a half a millisecond away from surrendering to her insomnia when, all of a sudden, the answer hits her, causing her to bolt upright in bed with a tiny gasp. Her mother’s tea! Back a couple of months ago, Caitlyn had her very first violin recital at the performing arts theater in Mainspring Crescent. She had been so excited in the weeks leading up to it, eager to stand on that stage and show everyone the results of months and months of practice. But then, on the night before her big day, Caitlyn came down with a serious and utterly unexpected case of the jitters that kept her from falling asleep.

Her mother brought her downstairs, made them both a cup of chamomile tea, and sat with her in the armchair by the fireplace. It tasted like flowers and springtime, but in a pleasant sort of way, and warmed her from the inside out. The most curious part, though, is how everything that happened after that is a blur, almost as if somebody smudged the ink on that page of her memories before it had time to dry. The next thing she knew, her father had been in her room waking her up for breakfast. Caitlyn doesn’t remember exchanging goodnights with her mother, nor is she sure how she even got back to bed, for that matter. She could ask her mother for some more of that tea! If it worked once, surely it would work again. Just one teensy cup should do the trick, and then she can go to sleep.  

And that’s how Caitlyn finds herself standing outside her parents’ bedroom.

With a deep breath, Caitlyn turns the knob of the rightmost door and slowly pushes it open, trying not to make a sound. The room is dim, the only source of light coming from the lamp on the nightstand on her mother’s side of the bed. Her mother sits upright, propped up with pillows against the headboard, a small book in her lap. Even from across the room, Caitlyn recognizes it as the collection of poems she often reads to wind down before bed. The other half of the bed is empty, but the distant sound of running water and the glowing strip of light beneath the closed bathroom door tells her of her father’s whereabouts.

Caitlyn’s arms wrap more tightly around her doll. “Mama?”

“Caitlyn?” Her mother lifts her head, turning to look her way. She watches her with narrowed eyes for a moment, lips giving a slight twitch while she tries to figure out what to say next. “It’s late, darling. You should be in bed.”

“Yes, I know, but…” The seven-year-old’s voice comes out significantly smaller than she intended. “I… I couldn’t sleep.” Could you please make me some tea? Caitlyn opens her mouth to ask her question, but the words don’t come out. She can feel them stuck behind the lump forming in her throat. Quite frankly, she doesn’t think she could drink anything right now anyway. She feels a little sick to her stomach. Caitlyn hopes with all her might that her mother doesn’t get cross with her or send her away to her room.

But her mother doesn’t scold her, nor does she tell her to go back to bed. Instead, she wordlessly closes her book and takes off her reading glasses, setting both on the bedside table. And then, much to the young girl’s relief, she beckons Caitlyn over with a wave of her hand, patting the space on the mattress beside her. “Come sit with me.”

The invitation has Caitlyn scurrying across the marble floors almost instantly. As she comes farther into the room, the two large trunks sitting near her mother’s wardrobe catch her eye. Both are fastened shut and lined up neatly next to a pair of fur-lined, high-heeled boots, presumably the ones her mother will be wearing tomorrow. The sight – a somber reminder – sends a pang through the girl’s heart. Mama truly is going away tomorrow.  

Caitlyn climbs up the foot of the mattress and crawls over to her mother, doll slipping from her grasp and falling onto the duvet somewhere along the way. Her nose starts to feel a tad bit sniffly, and before she knows it she’s crying. By the time she reaches her mother, poor Caitlyn is a mess. Tears stream down her cheeks, gathering underneath her chin in large droplets that drip onto her nightgown. There’s a terrible ache in her throat from trying to hold back sobs.

With a low tut, her mother reaches out to hold the sides of her face. She makes soft shushing noises as she thumbs away Caitlyn’s tears. “There, there… Hush, darling, it’s all right.”

But Caitlyn lets out a strangled sob and begins to cry harder, all of her pent up feelings about her mother leaving finally spilling out. “I don’t want you to go…!”

“I won’t be gone long,” her mother reminds her, stroking her cheeks. Both her tone and her touch are gentle, and it does comfort Caitlyn a little. “Your father will be here with you every day until then. You won’t be alone. There’s no need to fret.”

“Please, Mama…” Caitlyn cries. “Please stay.”

Her mother sighs softly, then leans in closer until their foreheads are nearly touching. Blue meets blue as their gazes align. Caitlyn can see her reflection in her mother’s eyes and briefly wonders if her mother sees her, too. When she speaks again, her voice is much quieter, nearly a whisper. “Caitlyn, darling, will you listen to me for a moment? I need you to listen very carefully.”

There is no way Caitlyn would be able to hear her mother while in such a state. Taking a deep, trembling breath, she tries to calm herself down. Slowly but surely her cries begin to slow, sobs turning into shudders and hiccups that eventually taper off into a silent stream of tears. Keeping her lips closed in a tight pout, Caitlyn gives her mother her full attention and waits for her to continue.

“That’s my good girl…” Her mother gives her a fond smile. “Believe me, I would love nothing more than to stay here with you and your father. But, darling, I’m a councilor now, and I have responsibilities – many responsibilities – and it is my duty to take care of them. There’s some business I must attend to in Demacia this week, and that’s why I need to leave for a short while. You understand, don’t you?”  

That’s the thing. Caitlyn does understand. But understanding doesn’t make saying goodbye any easier. Before her mother joined the council, she was usually only a room or a corridor away. Even when she had to go into town on errands she would always be home in time for dinner or, at the very least, before bedtime. On many occasions, her mother would bring her along anyway. It’s what Caitlyn’s used to. It’s all she’s ever known. Imagining her daily routine without her mother makes her uneasy and… honestly, a little scared. Caitlyn understands that her mother won’t be gone forever. That’s not what she’s afraid of. What frightens her is the thought of suddenly missing her mother – needing her – but being an ocean and a day away.  

But the answer to her mother’s question is yes, so Caitlyn nods, albeit reluctantly.

The movement causes two final tears to trail down her cheeks, but her mother is quick to wipe them away.

"Shh, darling, no more tears. You’ll be a good girl for me whilst I’m away, won’t you?”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Of course you will,” her mother says. She takes Caitlyn’s hands and gives them a comforting squeeze, lightly rubbing her thumbs over her knuckles. “I actually have a favor to ask of you, and it’s very important. Will you promise me something?”

Curious, Caitlyn’s head tilts slightly to one side. “What is it?”

Her mother sneaks a glance at the bathroom door before lowering her voice and leaning in, as though she’s about to tell a secret. “I need you to take care of your father for me until I return. Will you keep him company so he doesn’t feel lonesome, and remember to give him lots of kisses and cuddles?”

“I will,” Caitlyn promises, nodding earnestly to show that she’s mature enough to handle the job and that her mother can count on her. She will take good care of Papa, and she will do such a good job that Mama will be so proud!

“Thank you, darling.” Her mother takes one of the many extra pillows near the headboard, fluffs it a few times, then sets it on the mattress beside her own. “Come now, lie down. It’s time to sleep.”

Already feeling a bit better now that she’s getting to sleep in her parents’ bed tonight, Caitlyn allows her mother to tuck her in. Shortly thereafter, there’s a click as the bathroom door opens and her father comes into the room, fully clad in his favorite pair of embroidered satin pajamas. Upon noticing Caitlyn, he raises an eyebrow in puzzled surprise and then looks over at her mother. Caitlyn doesn’t look to see what sort of expression she gives him, but whatever it is appears to be enough to answer his question. He comes over to sit on the bed and places a hand on her head, ruffling her hair slightly.

“Hi Caity. Joining us tonight?”

Caitlyn nods in response.

After draping her robe over the back of the nearby vanity chair, her mother switches off the lamp and climbs into bed. Caitlyn immediately snuggles closer, nuzzling her forehead into the woman’s side. Her parents spend a couple of minutes going over some last-minute details about tomorrow’s agenda – Caitlyn doesn’t pay much attention to what they’re saying – and once they’re finished, they share their goodnights.

“Sweet dreams, Caity-bird,” says her father. There’s movement on the mattress as he leans over to kiss the top of Caitlyn’s head. Her mother follows suit, bidding her goodnight as well, but then the bedroom falls into quiet stillness as the family prepares for slumber.

It’s been a long night.

As the youngest Kiramman lies there in her parents’ bed, safe and sound between her mother and father, a wave of calmness washes over her at last. The duvet rustles lightly as she shifts into a more comfortable position, hugging an arm around her mother’s middle. Caitlyn’s eyelids grow heavy as a fuzzy drowsiness starts to spread through her body, along with something… something else. Something cozy and familiar. Something warm. Her brows furrow as she tries to recall exactly what it is. It’s there somewhere in her brain, she’s positively certain, and she squeezes her eyes shut in an attempt to find it.

And then–

There it is!

A memory of a steaming cup of chamomile.

No, Caitlyn may not have had any of her mother’s tea tonight, but the warmth is the same. It puts her heart at ease, even if only for tonight. When the sun comes back up, signaling the arrival of the day she and her mother have to part, so will her sadness. But, right here, right now , her mother is still here. Closing her eyes again, Caitlyn inhales deeply and lets herself get lost in the feeling, wanting to soak up every last drop. Perhaps it was never the tea to begin with, and it was her mother – just her mother – all this time. Her mother’s touch, soothing and soft… and her voice, gentle like a lullaby.

That’s the last thought that crosses Caitlyn’s mind before she falls asleep.

[luvksj]

BIGBANG as Yandere Types

a/n: hewwo! here’s something for bigbang in honour of them having a comeback! like FUCKING FINALLY!!! ahhh i’m so excited for it, i legit cannot wait for it and you best believe i’m gonna be staying up for the MV release, everything else can be damned!

it’ll be weird w/o seungri ngl... and im happy top is free from the evil clutches of YG Entertainment and he can finally do things that makes him happy: which include a debut solo album!!! yes, the lord is blessing us w bigbang content after VIP waited so long bc we had faithed that they would come back one day! anyway, please enjoy this story!

WARNING: strong use of violence, cursing ahead. if you feel uncomfortable with themes of stalkers/stalking, violence, obsession, yandere aus, manipulation, torture etc or mentions of blood, killing, death, torture, kidnapping or anything similar please DO NOT read this story!

t.o.p

- straight up stalker, like no doubt

- he has tabs on you. he knows where you are AT ALL TIMES.

- can be manipulative if needed, resulting in him acting clingy.

- won’t hesistate to kill someone if they are a threat

- you belong to him and that’s that.

- he can be aggressive when needed. especially if you disobey him. 

“do i need to remind you that you belong to me. you are mine, no-one elses.”

t a e y a n g

- 100% aggressive and overprotective

- he controls what you do and says he’s doing ‘out of love’ or it’s for ‘your own good’

- wherever you are, he’s there with you by your side. he don’t care where you are, even if it’s the ladies bathroom, he’s there. 

- he does not trust anyone. he doesn’t even trust you. 

- probably the main reason you don’t have many friends because he either scares them away or kills them... depends.

- you are his. you belong to him and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way.

“baby! i’m doing this because i love you! now please stop arguing.”

g - d r a g o n

- he’s manipulative. fight me on this. and also clingy.

- can sweet talk anyone into doing anything he wants. it’s the reason why he has so many contacts worldwide and... also how he got you. 

- knows where you are AT ALL TIMES. even if he’s not with you. he’s got contacts for a reason ya know?

- enjoys being the centre of your attention. he enjoys doing skinship with you bc you give him the best reactions and just being around you. 

- you belong to him. and if somebody dares try anything, they’re dead. 

- can change from happy to angry real quick if you/someone else piss him off or something doesn’t go his way. 

“y/n! there you are, i’ve been looking for you! let’s cuddle. you’ve been spending too much time with them and i’m lonely.” 

d a e s u n g

- he’s an obsessive stalker, 1000%

- knows every single thing about you and follows you everywhere. and i mean everywhere.

- believes he’s the only one worthy of loving something so precious

- if someone gets too close to you, they’re dead. he won’t hesistate to kill anyone that threatens him. he does not like sharing you.

- the reason your relationships don’t last long. longest they’ve lasted is one week.

- you are his entire world. he dedicates his life to you. without you, there’s no reason to live. 

“only i get to love something so special... so don’t even try it. she belongs to me, i’m the only one worthy of loving her.”

b i g b a n g

things bigbang yandere have in common

- they’re stalkers. they know where you are AT ALL TIMES

- overprotective. they don’t trust anyone... not even you.

- won’t hesistate to kill someone if they pose a threat to them

- you belong to them. no-one else. and that’s that

- enjoys being the centre of your attention. 

- believes everything they’re doing is ‘out of love’ or ‘for your own good’

“you belong to us, y/n. and nothing can change that so stop acting bratty or we’ll have to punish you.”

[myckicade]

Prompt: Ok so we all know Coco is touch starved, and would be clingy af in a relationship. What about Coco x wife!reader, while she’s trying to do basic errands/chores and Coco is her shadow?

A/N: I’ve been waiting for this one. I really have. Hee hee. I just adore Coco. <3 . This piece sort of follows the story of the last two Coco x Reader pieces I have written, but it will stand-alone, just fine. And, I swear, these things just have a mind of their own. I can continue to apologize for length, and content, but, in the end... I let the story tell itself. ;) . <3 .

As a warning, I come from Vermont, where we have a plastic bag ban. Last I knew, California was the first state to have one. I don’t know how that would translate to Santo Padre, but… When I mention fabric bags, I mean reusables, and the ban is why. ^^;;;;.

Title: Worthwhile

Teaser: He’s a little rough, your Coco, foul-mouthed, and quick to anger. Untrusting, and bitchier than a woman, on his best day. But, once you have his love, you have it. All of it.

“Okay…” you murmur, slowly, eyes scanning over the paper in front of you. Fifteen items, nothing crazy. Shouldn’t take you more than an hour, tops, and that includes travel to and from the store. “I think I’ve got everything we need… And, specials included your beer, and those little frozen cream puffs.”

Beside you, Coco groans, deep and guttural. “Fuck, I love those things.”

You giggle, but keep reading. Your man is too damn cute. “Feminine products.”

“Do those count as special?” Coco genuinely sounds thoughtful, as he steps up behind you, where you are leaning over the counter top. He wraps his arms around your waist, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. “Kinda’ a necessity, ain’t they?”

Tipping your head, you glance to your husband. Seriously. This man is a treasure. “Why don’t you run for political office?” you tease, pleased when Coco chuckles.

“Yeah, my record’ll look great, on the campaign trail.”

You shrug. “You can tackle pink tax, and tax evasion, at the same time.”

Coco grins, and steals a peck off your lips. “What else you got on there, muñeca?”

“Hmmm, let’s see…” You turn back to your list, tapping the pen against your lips, thoughtfully. Spying the next item on it, you try not to let out another giggle. He’s not going to like this one. “Letty asked if we could have that cauliflower pizza thing for dinner, tonight.”

As expected, this groan is decidedly not from food lust. “Fuckin’ vegetarians. When the hell is she gonna’ get over this shit?”

“It’s just a phase, Coco,” you remind him, for the… Well, honestly, you’ve lost track. It started shortly after the wedding, Letty’s change in diet, and you’re still not convinced the two aren’t related. You’re just not entirely sure how. But, two months in, and she’s still looking healthy, so you won’t send up any alarms. “It’s very popular at her high school, right now.”

Coco scoffs, disgusted. “When the hell’d she start copyin’ other people, anyway? My girl ain’t no follower.”

The words send a shot straight to your heart. He’s a little rough, your Coco, foul-mouthed, and quick to anger. Untrusting, and bitchier than a woman, on his best day. But, once you have his love, you have it. All of it. The love he has for Leticia is the greatest proof. They may carry on like cats and dogs, but when push comes to shove, there is nothing they won’t do for one another. My girl. It brings a warmth to your soul, and a smile to your lips.

You shake it off, enough to formulate a response. “She’s figuring out how to be her own woman. Trying new things.” You shrug, not wanting to make a big deal of it. You were Letty’s age, once, of course. And, a girl, to boot. Some things, Coco just won’t be able to understand. “It’s a process.” He hums, still disgruntled, but doesn’t push out another word. “You want anything else?” you ask, holding up your list. “I’ve gotta’ get going, before I run into the football widows.”

Before you can even take a step away, Coco tightens his arms around you. “You sure you gotta’ go, though?” he asks, leaning in to brush his lips against your neck. “With the house all to ourselves, like this?”

“If I don’t go,” you start, as Coco’s touches gain intent, becoming teasing kisses. Damn him. It feels nice, you won’t lie, but there are other things on your mind, right now. Priorities.

You’re just… having trouble remembering what they are.

Oh. Yeah. Shopping.

“If I don’t go, we won’t have anything for dinner.”

Another kiss, accompanied by a barely-there swipe of tongue. You shiver, and Coco moves his lips to your ear. “We can order in,” he whispers, breath so invitingly warm against your skin.

Oh, this asshole.

“And, what are we supposed to have for breakfast, tomorrow?” you try, again. “Half an Eggo, and a pack of Skittles?”

Coco cuddles you closer, again. “Ain’t you never heard about livin’ on love, baby?” Some of his smoothest work, that is. And, it’s almost convincing. Almost. You can imagine the afternoon ahead, if you give in. Your clothes will come off, and won’t be back on until the last second, before Letty walks back through the front door. By that time, you’ll be too tired to roll your ass off the bed, let alone go grocery shopping. And, you promised Letty you’d talk Coco into that cauliflower pizza.

“Great as that sounds,” you agree, preparing to capitalize on the truth. You ease yourself away from Coco’s stubborn hold, and give him one more smooch, just to soften the blow to come. “I don’t think Letty will appreciate the sentiment.”

A third groan. You must be going for a record. “C’mon, (y/n).” Oh, he’s whining. It’s so cute, it’s unreal. “We’ll find some place that delivers that rabbit food shit.”

Unfortunately for Coco, you’re already grabbing your bag. Lucky for you. You’re still two seconds from giving him what he wants. (He just doesn’t need to know so). “I’ll be back in a while.” God willing. “If you think of anything else, call my cell.” You rush out the front door, and don’t look back. If you see the look on your husband’s face, you know you’re as good as done.

*

Well, what the shit? Coco stares at the front door as it closes, you on the wrong fucking side of it. His arms are at his sides, palms turned toward the ceiling. That went so well. He kind of can’t believe you just walked away, like that. Left him alone, and wanting. In your big, empty house.

He probably should have volunteered to tag along, instead of just chasing you off.

Fuck.

Glancing around, Coco tries to find something to do. Something to clean, at the very least. But, that’s the trouble with having moved in with you, after the wedding, he supposes. Ain’t nothing to tidy up. Not that the three of you don’t have possessions. They’re all just in their proper places. Probably Leticia’s doing, in the end. He’d had a long talk with her, before the move, that she absolutely has to keep her shit where it belongs. Your house isn’t like their house. There aren’t burn marks in the carpet, or gouges in the coffee table. Dishes go in the damned dishwasher, not left to pile up on the counter, or in the sink. Beds get made. Laundry gets folded, and put away. No more wrinkled heaps in the clothes basket. So far, the kid’s been doing good. Real good.

Coco, though? He’s never felt so unnerved in his life.

It was different when he just visited. Spent a night or two, here or there. He’d almost felt at home, then, stupid as it sounds. At home, with the knowledge he wasn’t staying. But, now? Now, the reality has settled in, and he feels so-so… out of place. There’s so much he’s struggling to adjust to.

You have a purified water system installed under the sink, where Coco is used to buying bottled water.

You have a dining room, where Coco and Letty are used to eating on the couch.

You have an extended cable package, whatever the fuck that is.

You kind of have it all, here, certainly by comparison to what Coco is used to. The best of everything. Which really makes him wonder – not for the first time – what the hell you’re doing with a dirt-poor biker for a husband? You’ve had this conversation, on multiple occasions, and you’ve explained yourself, every time. But, this time… This time, you’re not around to give that speech. You’re not around to hold him, and kiss his face, and reassure him in a way that only you can. No, you’re at the grocery store, shopping for Coco, and his kid, which was apparently a better offer than staying home with him.

Oh, nope. Nope, he’s doing it, again. He can feel it. You love him, he reminds himself. You’ve got his ring on your finger, his last name, and – God-willing – his baby in your belly. By choice. All by choice.

Coco takes a deep breath, in. Lets it back out, slowly. Tries not to get sick, for all the nerves coming up to greet him. He wraps one arm around his own torso, free hand moving up to cover his mouth.

Fuck, he hopes you get back, soon.

*

You let out a deep sigh, as you park your car in the garage. Oh, it is so good to be home, at long-last. Talk about Old Home Week. You’d run into everyone, and his brother, at the grocery store. Shopping had taken nearly twice as long as you’d meant for it to, and you just know Coco must be losing his mind, by now. You hate to think about it, in such terms, but, sometimes… Well, sometimes, Coco reminds you of a new puppy. You can’t really leave him alone, without some kind of separation anxiety creeping up on him.

Ah, well. At least he isn’t ripping down the drapes, and shredding the couch cushions.

You blink. Well. That you know of.

Shaking your head, you climb out of the car, mentally preparing to unload armloads of bags. Maybe, if you really, really try, today will be the day you can finally get all twenty bags in, in one trip.

Right. And, shortly thereafter, you can have both forearms set, and casted. Be a real turn-on, in the bedroom.

You’ve managed to grab half a dozen bags, when the door to the mud room opens. “Hey, don’t grab too many!” Letty warns, as she comes hopping down the steps. “Let us help!”

Glancing up, you smile. For having had such a rough start, Letty can be a sweet girl. You know she gets that from her father. “Well, thank you,” you reply, resting a few, fabric handles onto her outstretched hands.

Letty grins, lowering her hands to her sides, before leaning in. “Did you talk him into it?” she whispers, conspiratorially.

You snicker, and whisper back, “He isn’t getting a choice. He’s outnumbered.”

“Yes!” Her hiss of victory is hardly subtle, catching Coco’s attention as he pokes his head out the door.

“You two plottin’ against me, again?”

“Yes,” you and Letty reply, in unison, leading you to erupt into a fit of giggles.

Coco is all grins. “’Course, you are.” He strides closer, he and Letty dancing around one another as she moves into the house. You lean into the car, and retrieve a few more bags. If Coco’s out here, he might as well assist. He’s peering into the car, once you stand back up, and lets out a low whistle. “Damn, (y/n)! You buy out the whole store, or what?”

“Hardly,” you reply, dryly. You hold up your hands, offering Coco the bags. “Here you go.”

“Oh, don’t mind if I do.” Thankfully, your hold on the bags is solid. Instead of grabbing the groceries, Coco’s hands are suddenly groping all over you. One hand is settled firmly at your ass, the other sliding into your hair, at the back of your head. He wastes no time diving in for a slow, deep kiss, and, damn, does his timing suck. He could have at least let you put the bags down, first. The contact makes you tingle, and has you regretting your decision not to stay home. Coco pulls back, after a few seconds, and hums. “Mm. Best delivery ever.”

You can’t help the small snort of amused laughter that leaves your throat. “Good try, Coco,” you praise, easing back far enough to offer him the bags, again. The look of disappointment on his face is just pitiful. “I’m not banging you in the garage.”

He has the grace to mock gasp. “I’d never!” It’s a crock, and you both know it. He looks too amused to be repentant, and you look too aware to be angry. You just raise your hands, slightly, in a third offer. Coco sighs. “All right. All right.” He takes the bags from your hands.

“Thank you.” You grab another load for yourself, rounding the open car door to follow Coco’s lead, into the house. One more trip for each of you, and you should have it covered. So much for only buying fifteen items.

Coco might be right about buying out the store.

*

Watching from the dining room, Coco has a good view of you and Letty unpacking the last of the groceries. Damn kid, she’d thrown him out, about ten minutes prior.

“Less groping, more helping, Coco,” Letty had warned him, after he’d tried to pin you against the sink.

It had been his last warning. Now, he’s been banished. Not the worst thing in the world, not really. Over the last few weeks, he’s really learned that there are some tasks he’s not so fond of. Pruning roses… Yeah, he’s pretty sure you’ll never let him do that, again. And, hey, nobody told him what to fill the bird feeder with. Unpacking groceries goes on that list, somewhere between line-drying laundry, and a streak-free mirror. He’s not sure why. Goodness knows, it makes him feel like a kid at Christmas, most times. Since being with you, though…

Since being with you, he feels like he’s taking advantage of something.

Yes, groceries are a strange place to let that feeling land, but he can’t help it. Coco’s been responsible for feeding himself since before he cares to remember. The only time anyone provided his meals was during deployment, and half that shit barely passed for edible. You, though… You keep the house stocked with more food than he’s seen anywhere, outside of a corner market. Letty always has options to take to school, and there’s a nutritious dinner on the table, almost every night. (Some nights, he actually does win the battle for delivery). If Coco goes on a run, you send him along with snacks for the road. And, yeah, he kinda’ likes that. He also likes the energy bars you picked out for him, last week. Something with cherries, and dark chocolate. He wonders, for a second, if you picked up any more. Come in handy during his mid-week trip outta’ town.

Coco blinks. Then, he does it again, just for good measure. That’s it. That’s what’s so fucking weird about this whole thing.

It’s you.

Okay, no, it’s not you, you. But, it’s you. It’s you, taking care of him. It’s you, seeing to his needs. Letty’s needs. It’s you, being his wife, his partner. It’s you, slotting into the place of role-model for his teenaged daughter. Welcoming them into your home. Not treating it like it’s your home. It’s you, being so fucking perfect for him, it’s taken his mind all this time to catch up with reality.

Coco doesn’t get perfect. Perfect doesn’t want him.

Except, now, it does.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Coco strides into the kitchen. He doesn’t wait for you to put the box of pasta in the cupboard. He just takes it from your hand, ignoring your confused look, as he tosses it onto the counter.

“Coco!” Letty admonishes, but it’s no use. He’s already lifting you off the floor, arms around your perfect backside. The kid gives a long-suffering sigh, he hears it, but pays it no mind.

Nothing – nothing – is going to keep him from holding you in his arms.

Your own arms go around Coco’s neck, and you smile down at him, surprise still lingering in your eyes. “Uhm… Hi, there.”

Coco grins. “Hey, muñeca.” Leaning up, he pecks you on the lips.

“Can I help you with something?” you ask, to which Coco shakes his head. Closes his eyes, as your fingers play in his hair.

“Nah. Got all I need.”

*

Pulling a package of mixed vegetables from the half-unpacked shopping bag, Letty rolls her eyes. You two… God, you’re gross. Coco always has his hands on you, no matter what you’re trying to do. It’s a wonder you don’t carry a damned fly swatter around. Actually, it’s a wonder you ever accomplish anything. He’s always smooching, and smiling, and snuggling at you. It’s disgusting. It’s pathetic.

It’s so damned cute, it’s sickening.

Really, Letty’s enjoying seeing Coco so happy. Like, genuinely happy. Not the false pride he carries around with his kutte. He’s more relaxed, nowadays. He drinks less, and he spends more time at home, both of which mean he’s not hanging around with those skanks at the clubhouse. He eats more, he’s healthier… Nothing to complain about, there.

And, hey, she has no complaints about you, either. You’re pretty cool, all-around. A woman who takes care of herself, and her family, and doesn’t bitch about either one. You’re not using Coco for money, or status, none of the shit she’s always been worried her father would fall into. There aren’t arguments, every night, not even between herself and Coco, as of late. No hostilities, nothing to avoid the house over. Just good dinners, and movies, and a new fish tank in her room. (Okay, so, you’d earned some major points with that birthday gift. She hadn’t actually expected to get one, when she’d mentioned it). For the first time, she understands what a peaceful, happy family feels like. It feels nice. It feels like home.

Glancing back to where Coco now has you perched on the counter top, stealing the most syrupy-sweet smooches… Letty can’t help but smile. Home is A-okay by her.

*

The sound of the air conditioner humming in the bedroom usually lulls you right to sleep. Tonight, it’s just providing you with white noise, a low background track to your thoughts. You don’t mind, not really. It gives you a few minutes to reflect on the day that’s just ended. To plan your day, tomorrow. To weave your fingers through Coco’s hair, and listen to him breathe. That, alone, makes it worthwhile.

Coco has been asleep against your shoulder for nearly an hour, now. Your arms are wrapped around him, comfortably, his own around your waist. You’d urged him up to bed, after he’d fallen asleep on the couch, his head in your lap. He’d snoozed from the middle of the movie, to the end of the nightly news report. Letty had tsked, and complained that no one had any business, whatsoever, in falling asleep during Zombieland. (How he’d stayed asleep was still a wonder to you, both, for how hard you’d been laughing at Tallahassee). With your fingers in his hair, Coco had been blissfully unaware for a couple of hours.

Glancing down, you take in the sight of your husband’s sleeping face. He looks so damn peaceful, the kind you’d outright murder to preserve for him. Coco’s still struggling with sleep, and relaxation, even though you’d hoped it would ease up, once your nuptials had passed. Most of it, you know will never go away. Anxiety doesn’t have a magic wand, or some perfect little on/off switch. And, all things considered, today wasn’t a terrible day. You’d been able to leave the house, with minimal panic on Coco’s part. Granted, it had taken extra time to get the groceries put away, and dinner made, but… You understand, as much as you are able to, that Coco needs the reassurances. It doesn’t cost you anything to carve a few moments from the day, every here and there, to give him what he needs.

Okay, so it did cost you that first batch of pancakes, this morning. They’d burned on the stove, and set off the smoke alarms, when he’d insisted on a dance through the living room. But, Coco loved the song you’d been playing on your Spotify, so there was really no denying him.

Oh, and… Yeah, you’d missed that phone call from the bank, the week before. Your husband had slipped up next to you, on the porch swing, and snuggled you to within an inch of your life. An easy fix, and you still got the business loan, but…

And, sure, you’ve been late to work, on numerous occasions. Coco has a habit of sneaking into your morning shower. And, after that… Well, hell, you own the company. It’s not like you have to explain to the boss that you’re late to your shift, on account of baby-dancing. (Fucking forums).

Point is, you’re more than happy to take care of Coco’s emotional needs. It may take you an extra hour to pay your bills. Daily tidying may have become every-other-day-if-you’re-lucky tidying. And, your ass may have gone numb, tonight, while he slept on your thigh. During which time, you could have loaded the dishwasher. Taken out the trash. Any number of tasks that have been neglected, in the name of Coco. They can wait.

Leaning in, you press a tender kiss to your husband’s forehead, before settling back in, and closing your eyes. Yes, chores can wait. Work can wait. The whole world can hold it, with both hands. So long as you’re around, Coco’s well-being will never have to take the back seat.

*

P.S. If Coco denies it, he’s full of it. He fucking loved that cauliflower pizza. Fucking vegetarians, indeed.

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[roscgcld]

HEADCANONS + GOJO SATORU || onii-chan

note: this was a few ideas given to me by my beloved 🌸Anon - a bunch of new gojotwins!au headcanons c: this one is a little different compared to my other story, so this is a stand alone one. might turn it into a series if it gets enough love, but we’ll see~ you can read the original ask here!

pronouns: she/her

note: mentions of blood and death and spoilers for volume 8 & 9 of the manga. SUPER LONG by the way lol

gojotwins!au masterlist

twins have always been viewed as a bad omen for the parents - there are high chances of both twins developing no Cursed Technique at all, or have a Cursed Technique that is not desirable. So there had been no hope when one of the wives from the main family of the gojo clan was pregnant, and from what they can tell with twins at that

so it was a huge surprise to not only the elders but the entire jujutsu world when not one, but both of the twins were born with the coveted Six Eyes - something that had never happened in the history of the gojo clan. it was a moment to be celebrated!

if only they knew just what was lies ahead

much to the delight of the elders, the older one of the twins was the boy, satoru, while the girl was born 20 minutes after - it wouldn’t have mattered if it was the other way around, but just having the young boy being the one born first was definitely the icing on the cake

both of you were an absolute headache to deal with, causing so much chaos and mayhem that the elders had wondered if they should have celebrated at the idea of having two Six Eyes users under the same house was a good thing

the both of you trained together throughout your younger years, with satoru becoming super overprotective even though you were twins - he understood from a young age that the both of you were starting at different levels of footing because of your gender

yes, you are a girl - but at 7 years old you had exorcise a Grade-Two Curse by yourself with no more than an annoyed click of your tongue and a snap of your fingers, walking away whilst whining about how it got your favourite dress dirty

with that being said though, he loves to tease you are still the younger one between the both of you, and had teased you about how you should refer to him as ‘onii-chan’ instead of his first name

“come on, Y/N~ it’s a sign of respect~”

“i am going to spend you to outer space one of these days.”

the two of you were already known about the jujutsu world way before you even became old enough to enroll in Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College - you two were even allowed to enter without an interview with the then principal of the school

who would want to waste their time interviewing two highly over qualified teenagers anyway?

the first time you met geto and shoko, they were both intimidated by your sheer presence. the both of them have heard talks about the gojo twins entering their year as a pair

so when they had first met you, standing there in your uniform with your bright blue eyes hiding behind a pair of blacked out sunglasses and an indifferent look on your face - they definitely felt a shiver go through their bodies

however, when they saw your twin brother appearing behind you with the biggest grin, hugging you from behind whilst you scowled and tried to push his head away - they were definitely less intimidated now

“now, now, Y/N-chan, stop being so scary~”

“nii-chan, i am giving you three seconds to let go of me.”

the two of you quite the duo, especially when you two are always pinned against one another with more difficult and more challenging missions compared to when you were under the care of the gojo clan 

geto felt less pressure to match up to his friend, since satoru and Y/N are always at each other’s throat - wanting to outmatch the other and one up the other with silly things like Curse head counts and how difficult its level is

with that being said, satoru is very protective of you - if any so much as speaks poorly of you, he would not hesitate to put them in their place

“oya? what makes you think you can speak of my baby sister like that?” satoru had hummed towards the small group of men, who were commenting on how beautiful the young woman was followed by a lot of unsavoury comments. 

satoru still sported his casual smile, yet there was a certain air around him that made them shut their mouths up real fast. “mind repeating that? just want to make sure that i have a good enough reason to put your lazy asses six feet underground..”

after that specific incident by the way, satoru had you and your friends out on a little excursion around tokyo - where they just did a bunch of stupid things together to calm down

you can read him like the back of a book though, so when both of your friends went away to browse through some shelves in a video game store, you just wrapped your arms around your brother with a smile. “you know, nii-chan, you don’t need to go about protect my honour. i’m a big girl now.”

he’d just blink down at you before giving you a soft but genuine smile, petting the top of your head with one of his hand while the other was resting inside of his pocket. “if i don’t protect you, who am i going to protect?”

that statement was proven during your second year - a cursed user had overpowered you and shoko and had taken the both of you hostage. the curse user had practically beaten you into a pulp, knowing that you were the stronger one between the two

shoko had been tied up and beaten as well, but you were definitely taking the brunt of his anger - along with being forced to listen about how he was going to sell you to some low life family that had been trying to get you to marry their sorry excuse of a son. 

you don’t even remember meeting the father of the boy, who had claimed to visit the gojo clan home a few times now

“you gonna be a good girl for me?” the man had gripped as he gripped your hair in his hands, giving you a smirk whilst you scowled over at him in annoyance, blinking the blood out of your eyes from the wound on the top of your head. 

before you can give another snarky answer in reply that will get you another beating, the sound of someone kicking the door in. before either one of you can move, the man suddenly let go of your hair with a pained gasp as someone grabbed his hair and forced his head back, looking up into a pair of glowing blue eyes

“get your filthy hands off my baby sister.”

geto was in charge of taking care of the both of you, leaving the room with a simple reminder to satoru that they needed to bring the man back alive

both of you spending most of your time trying to unlock the many secrets of the Limitless, and how to control it better

during the entire star plasma vessel fiasco, you had stayed by geto’s side. and while you didn’t manage to save rika from being murdered, you had, like gojo, managed to touch the core of cursed energy

toji had ‘killed you’ before he went after geto, yet like satoru, he did not decapitate your head; so you had slowly started to use the reverse curse technique to heal your wounds

so you couldn’t believe satoru’s belief when he found you using reverse cursed technique to heal geto, wrapping you up in his arms while you just smile and hold him as well

the three of you plus shoko had turned to one another for comfort, because along the way you four have grown close to the young girl, and her death really affected all of you

but if there is something bright that came out from this, is that you and your brother had really elevated yourselves to become the strongest duo of the new generation - both pretty much an entire chest above the current active sorcerers

after satoru had calmed down, he had told you about what toji had said to him before his death - about how he has a son that he had planned to sell of to the zen’ins

the two of you went to visit the young boy, discovering that he had an older sister as well; and without hesitation you had taken the both of them under your wing, pulling a few strings behind the scenes while also trying to provide him with as normal as a life as you two could

megumi had viewed you as a mother figure, someone who looked out for him and tsumiki, teaching the two of them life skills like sewing and cooking, making sure they always have warm meals. 

you never miss their birthdays either - always making sure to get them either a cake or a small cupcake with a candle on the top to blow out just for the sake of tradition

sure, satoru loves to spoil them too, but he acted more like their chilled older brother - he definitely relies on you more as a parental figure he had lacked for quite a huge part of his childhood

he had remembered how once, when you had made him his favourite curry and rice after a long week, he just sighed and said, “thanks mum,” before he started to eat his meal 

at first you froze in shock, and  megumi did too - but before the blushing teen can apologise, you had already wrapped him up in your arms as you just cried your heart out

satoru had teasingly asked him if megumi can call him ‘dad’, to which megumi just scowled and sent his divine dogs after your brother

satoru loves to introduce you two as the ‘strongest duo’ by the way - which makes you super awkward and you hate it with a passion. he wasn’t wrong, but it’s still awkward

“we’re the Gojos - the strongest duo out there.”

“please stop calling us that.”

feel like because you’re there, geto might still be on the path to the light lmao - like mans will be a teacher in school and you three will be dub the ‘idiot trinity’ or some bullshit nickname lol - the three biggest troublemakers in the jujutsu world

yet the three most capable ones as well - absolutely drive the higher ups of the jujutsu world insane

with that being said though - the three of you definitely hashed a plan to change the jujutsu world together. even shoko agrees that there should be some change to the old ways of the jujutsu world; so the four of you decided to sign up to work as teachers at Jujutsu High 

the first group of students you took under your wing was the then first years - maki, toge, panda, and eventually yuta when he joined your little class

you are the mother for the students while geto is the responsible dad; satoru is the crazy uncle that is not allowed to supervise the students alone, and shoko is the cool aunt who lets you skip class in her office if you want

all the students have, at one point, just referred to you as ‘mum’ and you had always just accepted that with a soft smile and a pat on the top of their head

even if they are taller than you, they will willingly bend down to your height so you can pet them on the head - even megumi lets you get away with it

when itadori and nobara came into the picture, you had taken them un as your own as well - but you did spend a good 5 minutes laughing with geto at the idea that yuji manages to control sukuna like he is just an annoying imaginary friend in the back of his head that refuses to shut up

you had tried to give them some form of normality and comforts as teenagers, even if many times they were forced into very uncomfortable situations

all in all - it was utter chaos the moment both you and satoru were born. yet it was a miracle nonetheless. many times you prove to the world that your bond is stronger than people think it is, and that you two will go through anything to make sure the other is safe. 

you are the younger one, but the more responsible one too. the motherly figure that everyone turned to, even your friends and brother, who needs comfort and a warm meal. yet if provoked, you can become deadly and kill with no hesitation. it’s because of this, both you and your brother are considered as quite the deadly duo; the strongest ones around. 

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform