#did somebody say update?

[goforth-ladymidnight]

A Second Chance

Ch. 7

Pairing: Tamlin x Lucien

Word Count: 4k (I know it's shorter than usual, but the next chapter will make up for it)

Summary: Tamlin is not the only one keeping secrets

Available to read on AO3, or below the cut:

A blanket of fresh snow crunched beneath the tires as Lucien slowly pulled through the wrought iron gate and into the circular drive.

Tamlin leaned forward in the passenger seat to get a better view of the large, three-story manor. “Where are we?”

“My brother’s house,” Lucien explained as he shifted the car into Park. “Eris. You’ve met him before, I think. When I brought you home for Christmas that first year.”

“Oh, yeah. I think so.” Tamlin sat back and stared at the tall stone steps leading up to the massive front door. “Doesn’t he have, like, a million dogs?”

Lucien chuckled as he pulled off his seat belt. “He has ten, the last time I counted. But it’s been a while since I’ve been here, so who knows anymore.”

As Tamlin handed him the extra takeout container, he asked, “Do you want me to come in with you?”

“No, I’ll just be a minute,” Lucien insisted, opening his car door. “I have to bribe him with some latkes, and then we’ll go pick out a Christmas tree, okay?”

“You have to bribe him? What for?”

Lucien pulled the door closed against the stream of cold air blowing in, and thought quickly. “Since Vassa’s been in town, I’ve been falling behind at work,” he lied. “So, Eris has been covering for me. This isn’t so much a bribe as it is a thank you, so…”

Tamlin nodded slowly. “Oh. Okay.”

On a whim, Lucien leaned in and brushed a kiss against his cheek. “See you in a minute,” he said with a reassuring smile, then slipped out of the car and left it running.

He could feel Tamlin’s eyes on him as he made his way up the steps, pretending nothing was amiss. His heart was beating like a drum as he pressed the buzzer.

The red light clicked on as a voice sounded through the subtle layer of static. “Yes?”

“It’s me,” Lucien replied evenly.

The red light turned off with a click, but thankfully Lucien didn’t have to wait long for a response.

Eris answered the door himself, wearing his favorite Sunday attire: an embroidered velvet smoking jacket over his black silk pajamas, complete with matching slippers. The only thing missing from his ensemble was a fez.

Making a mental note to add one to his shopping list, Lucien smiled and said, “Hey. Thanks for seeing me.”

“No problem,” Eris said with a sniff, crossing his arms against the cold.

While they had both inherited their mother’s slender build, Eris had pale skin that freckled in the sun, and short, gingery-red hair that he kept tucked behind his ears. Unlike most redheads he knew, including all six of his brothers, Lucien tanned in the sun, and his hair was more auburn than red. At least his mother’s hair was auburn too, or he might have wondered if his brothers were right about him being adopted all those years ago.

“So,” Eris continued. “You said something about ‘better than hash browns’?”

Before Lucien could answer, one of Eris’s adopted retired racing greyhounds appeared by his side as if summoned by the smell of still-warm latkes, wagging its tail and whining in hopes of a handout.

“Hey, there,” Lucien said sweetly, reaching out to fondle the dog’s silky ears. The dog sniffed at his hand, body wagging furiously, then circled his legs and nipped back inside with a yip to get out of the cold.

Eris chuckled and stepped onto the covered porch and shut the door behind him. “That was Lily. She’s new. She doesn’t know that much about snow yet.”

Lucien huffed a laugh that was visible in the frosty air. “How many dogs does that make now. Eleven?”

Eris smirked. “Twelve. I’ve got a mini grey that’s napping in my chair right now. Do you want to come inside and meet her?”

Lucien regretfully shook his head, then nodded at the car running behind him. “I can’t. Tam’s waiting in the car for me, so…”

As Eris accepted the takeout container, his amber eyes turned sharp as he stole a furtive glance over Lucien’s shoulder. “That him?” he said in a low voice.

“Yeah,” Lucien said quietly.

Eris let out a long, slow, frosty breath. “If half of what you told me is true, it’s going to get ugly. Without a rape kit, and without eyewitness testimony, his chances of winning this suit are next to nothing.”

Lucien’s heart sunk. “So, you’re saying we shouldn’t even try?”

Eris’s mouth pursed. “I didn’t say that,” he said more gently. “If anyone is willing to testify on his behalf, I might be able to scare the University into coughing up a settlement.”

“Is that all?” Lucien asked, disappointed.

“It’s better than having his name dragged through the mud. Especially if that dean is in bed with the police.”

Lucien felt a twinge of guilt for sharing Tamlin’s story without his permission, but he needed to know if there was a chance Tamlin could get his life back. If anyone could help him get a shred of justice, Eris could.

“Have you told him what you’re planning yet?” Eris asked.

Lucien shook his head and rubbed his gloved hands together. “Not yet.”

As Eris opened the takeout container, he said, “Before you say anything, let me look into it.” He paused to breathe in the fragrant steam. “Is that applesauce?”

Lucien smiled. “Does it count as a bribe if I say ‘Yes’?”

Eris smirked and waggled the container. “It depends on how good the goods are.”

Lucien grinned as he turned for the steps. “Trust me. They’re good.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I thought you were a lawyer,” Lucien called over his shoulder.

“Not on Sundays,” Eris countered.

Lucien laughed as he walked down the steps. “So call me and tell me the verdict tomorrow, Your Honor,” he quipped. “I’ll be out most of the day.”

“Doing what?”

“Buying a Christmas tree.”

“Is that right?”

Lucien turned around at the bottom of the steps and gave his brother a friendly salute. “Dad can’t say no to me buying myself a tree and a few decorations now, can he?”

Eris frowned thoughtfully. “I guess not.”

“And what’s a Christmas tree without a few gifts to go underneath it, right?”

Eris’s lips pursed in disapproval as he shook the container at him. “You’re toeing the line there, little brother.”

Lucien grinned and reached for the car door handle. “Don’t I always?”

“Always,” Eris called out. “And I have the heartburn to prove it.”

“Try the applesauce,” Lucien called back, then got into the car to go shopping with Tamlin.

* * *

“This is where you live?”

Tamlin winced at Lucien’s question. Hybern Heights was not exactly the height of luxury, no matter what the brochures said. “I know it’s not that impressive,” he said, slipping off his seatbelt, “but it keeps the snow off my head.”

“I’m not judging you,” Lucien reassured him. “I’m just… surprised, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” Tamlin murmured. “Me, too.”

It was a far cry from the dorm room they had shared all those years ago. Even if the rooms were small, at least they were clean and well-kept.

He didn’t know how old these apartments were, but they were most certainly older than him. Angular cracks traced the gray brick facade, which had once been painted white, but what wasn’t peeling away was now the color of old bone. Overgrown ivy clung to the walls in summertime, but in winter, they were brown, spidery husks clinging to the bricks like skeleton fingers. At least the snow softened the worst of it, but it did nothing to hide the sins of the interior. Stained carpets, peeling wallpaper, rusty taps… It was a wonder how easily he had gotten used to living there, and thinking it was okay.

It wasn’t okay. It was pathetic. Especially because of the amount of money Mr. Hybern charged them in rent. If they finished this job for Koschei, maybe they wouldn’t have to put up with it anymore. But that was a big IF.

As Lucien unbuckled his own seatbelt, Tamlin stopped him.

“You should wait here,” he said quickly. “It’s a mess in there, and I’ll only be a minute. Really.”

Lucien quirked his mouth to one side. “If you’re sure,” he said, but he sounded reluctant to agree.

“I’m sure.” Tamlin smiled and reached for the door handle. “I’ll be right back.”

“Tam?”

He paused. “Yeah?”

Lucien slid his sunglasses up and into his hair. “You know,” he began slowly, “I have tinted windows, so… feel free to kiss me anytime you feel like it, all right?” He gave Tamlin a teasing smirk. I promise I won’t mind.”

Tamlin blushed. “How did you get to be so confident about all this?”

Lucien shrugged. “Practice.”

Tamlin considered this, then shyly glanced around to make sure no one else was hanging around the snowy parking lot. It was a Sunday morning, so the chances of anyone being up and around weren’t that high. Even with tinted windows, he felt better knowing no one else was there.

“It’s just us, Tam,” Lucien said gently.

Tamlin took a deep breath, “Okay,” he said softly, then leaned in. “Come here.”

Lucien grinned. “That’s more like it.”

One awkward nose-bump and affectionate kiss later, Tamlin pulled away, blushing madly. “I’m not very good at this,” he said, slumping back in his seat.

Lucien, however, was beaming. “That’s what practice is for,” he declared, then nodded at the apartment building. “Now go on. The sooner you get back, the sooner we can practice some more.”

Tamlin was still blushing when he made it up to the third floor apartment.

He was so distracted that when he walked in, he thought he had walked into the wrong unit. It was bitterly cold from all the windows that were cracked open, and there were piles of stuff everywhere. When he recognized the sagging, blue-checkered sofa, his next thought was that they had been robbed. Except he couldn’t tell what the would-be robbers might have taken. The nicest thing they owned was the television, and that wasn’t saying much. At least it was still there.

He was beginning to think that some kind of wild animal had gotten in and trashed the place, when Jurian walked out of the kitchen, carrying a roll of garbage bags and the old broom and dustpan.

“Hey, I’m glad you’re here,” Jurian said distractedly, gesturing to the piles. “Grab a bag. Pick a pile.”

Relived but not quite, Tamlin slowly closed the door behind him. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m cleaning.”

“I can see that, but… why?”

“Why?” Jurian gestured to the mess. “Because I just spent the night in one of the most luxurious hotels I’ve ever seen outside a magazine, and I realized we live in a trash compactor.”

A wry smirk touched Tamlin’s mouth as he stepped closer. “Took you long enough.”

Jurian shot him a look, then did a double take. “Where have you been, anyway?”

Tamlin blushed again. “Oh, you know. Out.”

Jurian raised his brows in silent inquiry.

Tamlin shrugged him off, then reluctantly admitted, “With Lucien.”

Jurian looked him over with a slow, thoughtful nod. “Are you just getting in?”

Tamlin wasn’t ready to admit that he had just spent the night in one of the most luxurious beds in the world with a guy who had just come out to him as gay, because he himself wasn’t ready to come out as anything. He wasn’t even sure what to call what they had done. Platonic cuddling? Sensual handholding? Sleeping together but not that way?

Since he owed Jurian an answer, he simply said, “Yeah. We just talked.”

“All night?”

“Yeah,” Tamlin squeaked, then cleared his throat. “Basically.”

Jurian shrugged. “Okay.”

As he looked away, Tamlin was grateful he had let it go, even though he might have already guessed. Jurian’s sloppiness did not apply to his detective work, after all. To keep his attention elsewhere, Tamlin decided to change the subject. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Jurian asked, shaking out an empty garbage bag.

“What about you and… you know. Vassa.”

“What about her?” Jurian said stiffly, keeping his gaze averted.

“How did it go last night?”

Jurian eyed him sidelong, strangely silent, until he suddenly sagged onto the couch, which creaked beneath his weight. “Oh, my god,” he moaned, then ran a hand through his hair. “She’s incredible. She’s absolutely incredible. She’s gorgeous; she’s funny; and she’s into me… Those are three things I never thought I’d string together in a sentence. Not to mention she’s bilingual in the best possible way…” He murmured something in Scythian. “My god…”

Tamlin looked at him askance. “What happened?”

Jurian sighed and dropped his hand to his lap as he stared at the ceiling. “Nothing I’d be willing to confess to a priest.”

Tamlin made a face as he thought it over. “Eugh.”

Jurian sat up and glared at him. “Hey. I don’t give you shit about your love life; you don’t shit on mine. Got it?”

Tamlin winced and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Jurian’s frown softened. “Yeah,” he muttered, running a hand over his stubble. “I know. Me, too.”

Tamlin shifted from one foot to the other as he glanced around at the half-cleaned apartment. “So… Did you invite her over?”

“No. Hell, no.” Jurian sat up. “I just realized that if I did invite anyone over, there wouldn’t be anywhere to put her coat, let alone her purse, even if she wanted to stay.” He gestured to the mess, no further explanation necessary.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Tamlin remarked, stepping towards the coat closet where his meager possessions were stored. “Lucien’s waiting for me outside. I just came up to change clothes and—and grab some stuff.”

As he draped a fresh shirt and clean-ish jeans over his arm, Jurian asked him, “What kind of stuff?”

Tamlin kept his gaze averted as he added more clothes to his pile. “Oh, you know… Clothes and—and stuff.”

“Uh-huh.”

Tamlin’s face flushed as he tried to hide three days worth of fresh socks and underwear under yet another sweater.

“I hope you’re not emptying that closet on account of what I said,” Jurian remarked. “Vassa’s not coming over, and even if she was, we could put her coat somewhere else.”

Tamlin shook his head without turning around. “No, that’s not—I’m not—I’m not doing that,” he stammered quietly.

“Are you moving out?”

“What? No!” Tamlin turned around and tried to squelch his panic. “Unless… unless you—Did you want me to move out, or…?”

Jurian gave him a sad, resigned kind of smile. “Are you kidding? Of course not.” He groaned as he pushed himself to his feet. “You’ve got a place with me as long as you need it, you know that.”

With a relieved sigh, Tamlin said quietly, “Thanks, Jurian.”

“No problem, kid.”

Tamlin watched as he bent and grabbed the first of many old takeout containers and shoved it into his garbage bag. “Did you want me to stay and help? I can let Lucien know…”

“Nah. I got myself into this mess. I can get myself out of it.”

As empty cans and bottles began to clink inside the plastic bag, one against the other, Tamlin somehow suspected he didn’t mean taking out the garbage. “What about Vassa?”

“Kid. We have already had this discussion,” Jurian said coolly.

“I don’t think we have.”

“Look. I just had the most amazing night of my life, with the most amazing woman I’ve ever met…” He threw another bottle into the bag with an especially loud clank. “…and I realized that you were right.”

“I was?”

“Yeah.” Jurian straightened and ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t—I can’t take my work home with me. No matter how incredible she is.”

“Isn’t it a little late for that?”

“Technically, we went to her place, not mine,” Jurian said with a wry, sad smile. “So, technically, it doesn’t count.”

“Are we talking legally, or biblically?”

“What’s the difference?”

Tamlin gave him a look, and Jurian looked away.

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Jurian let out a weighty sigh. “It doesn’t matter anymore, because I’m done.”

Tamlin gawked. “You’re done?”

“Yeah, I’m done,” Jurian said, waving dismissively. “It’s over. I can’t see her anymore. It’s unprofessional. I should have known better.”

“But if you already slept with her, then—”

“Look. It doesn’t matter. I’m never going to see her again. That’s it. End of story.”

Tamlin stared as Jurian bent over to grab more garbage for his bag. “Never?” he asked. “Like… never ever…? Or…?”

Jurian looked up at him, half-bent over, still holding an empty bottle. “Why.”

Tamlin sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth. “Well…”

“Well, what.”

“You know, it’s just…” Tamlin took a deep breath. “Lucien invited you and Vassa to a tree decorating party at his place tonight at seven o’clock,” he said quickly, hoping his smile would be persuasive.

Jurian straightened up and stared at him. “Are you kidding me?” When Tamlin shook his head, Jurian groaned and dropped the bag and the bottle to the floor to grip his hair with both hands. “What are you doing to me, kid?” he moaned at the ceiling.

“Hey, you don’t have to come—”

“Oh, I’ll come,” Jurian said, pointing at him. “I’m just going to be a little bitch about it.”

“Hey,” Tamlin said sternly. “You’re the one who wanted to take her out last night. You’re the one who ignored your own goddamn code of ethics.”

Jurian’s face crumpled. “God. I know.”

As Jurian buried his face in his hands and moaned, Tamlin uncomfortably shifted his pile of clothes from one arm to the other. “Did you really sleep with her?” he asked quietly.

Jurian was silent for a long moment. “Do you really want to know?” he asked, muffled.

“No.” Tamlin shook his head for emphasis. “It’s bad enough knowing that she’s Lucien’s friend. I don’t need to know the particulars.”

“Yeah.” Jurian sighed and scrubbed at his face. “It’s for the best.”

Tamlin took a half-step toward the bathroom to change. “So… are you coming tonight?”

Jurian sighed without looking at him. “Yeah,” he murmured.

“Are you really going to end it with her?”

Jurian dropped his gaze to the floor and nudged the garbage bag with his foot. “I don’t know yet,” he murmured.

Tamlin sighed. “If… if you want, I can bring my camera. I’ve still got an old point-and-shoot, so we could get this job over with if you…” He trailed off when Jurian shook his head.

“Nah.” Jurian ran a hand through his hair. “It’s a party. And it’s still Sunday. We’re off the clock.”

“Oh. Okay, then.”

When Tamlin came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Jurian was sitting on the couch arm, surveying the mess he had made. At least he’d finished tying up one garbage bag, but he wasn’t anywhere near done yet.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

Jurian startled as Tamlin walked up to him. “Yeah. No. I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jurian said emphatically. “Just tell me where this party is, and I’ll be there at seven with a smile on my face and a poinsettia under my arm.”

Tamlin smiled a wry half-smile. “You don’t have to bring anything.”

“The hell I don’t,” Jurian said lightly, then gently punched his arm. “I’ve got a date tonight. I can’t just show up empty-handed.”

“It’s not a—a date…” Tamlin faltered when Jurian shot him a look.

“I don’t think you know what a date is, kid.”

Tamlin blushed and hoped it wasn’t obvious. “Fine,” he muttered, then told him the address.

Jurian whistled. “They don’t charge admission to get in, do they?”

“No, I think your wallet is safe,” Tamlin said with a smirk.

Jurian smirked back. “Good,” was all he said.

Tamlin turned to go, then paused and asked, “By the way… How was Swan Lake?”

Jurian looked thoughtful, and his smirk softened to a smile. “It was nice. Real nice.” He nodded at Tamlin. “Tell your friend I said ‘Thanks’. From both of us.”

[nebulabunnyarts]

Hey uhhh pentious. Sir pentious? Can I ask you....uhhh..if snake lay eggs so are you pregnant?

I'm not in the fandom anymore but. by god this is such a hilarious ask to wake up to. I just HAD to answer it

Guys, read bios first

[xcziel]

@tumblr ... @wip ? @support ? i guess? idk if you guys have one particular person or team looking at just the mobile platform but

i am asking you to please reconsider the placement of a follow button on. Every. Single. Comment. in a reblog chain.

i mean this shit

(i realize it is not a button but idk what else to call it - clicky text? taptext? idc! i just don't want to accidently follow people and then end up going ":O wat is this random post doing on my dash?" you know?)

i am an app user, i'm on my phone. i use my thumb to scroll. the chances of randomly hitting a follow button i DID NOT mean to hit have now sky-rocketed

please consider that while the option may work great on desktop, the app does not have enough screen real estate to support this conveniently

ESPECIALLY since you have the button on the right side of the screen where it is usually safe to rest your scrolling digit - if you insist on keeping the follow text there could you at least please move it next to the username like in the reblog line?

[chuuciae]

i think tv is a luxury that humans were simply not meant to have

[birdantlers]

A heartfelt and grievously expanded-upon update to this—please, please read the whole thing if you can. reblogs much appreciated.

(DISCLAIMER, for all who are saying reasons like abusive parents/legal stuff/toxic ex/triggering memories/page got deleted/job/stalkers/bullying/[[insert any other shitty life thing]], This is not concerning that—personal safety & health ALWAYS comes first, and is worth more than any media ever could be. This is my biggest reason for defending that autonomy. I would be a hypocrite to say I hadn’t deleted triggering posts of mine or ones that got me in trouble with my family.)

it genuinely makes me sad and kinda upset when someone purges all their old art off the internet like. barring harmful content what if someone liked that. What if someone would have. And now nobody will ever know and it's just gone. even people's old invader zim askblogs or whatever getting deleted feels like a micro alexandria to me and that's just something I made up. I wasn't even thinking of a specific one it just stresses me out. Is this the autism I don't get why nobody else seems to freak internally abt it like I do. I see artists whose blogs I've never even looked at go like "man so glad I deleted all my old stuff it's so clean" or saying they throw out art from when they were kids I'm like. how are you not hurling. How is that not distressing that is literally your tree rings why would you do that. I want to see what's out there. people want to see it I promise someone out there likes it

...don't they??? Does everyone get quietly irrationally upset by this as me, or is this just hyperfixation/autism/some amalgam of the two. I'm not a hoarder or obsessive compulsive or anything like that so i wonder..

Anyways. reblog if you had a favorite amateur youtube animator in your childhood whose channel got nuked without a trace one day that you still think about.

I wanted to attach this video because it condenses my point very well. A TLDR of sorts. Please watch the whole thing, it genuinely changed the entire way I think about art as a concept.

(2nd vid is "Subjectivity in Art")

“The moment your art touches an audience, the ownership shifts in an irreversible way. [They're] not having an art experience with you and your intentions. They're having an art experience with the art object.

“You can't just burn your past; it's not even your past to burn anymore. It's other people's history as well. Whether or not you like it, that art is already bonded to somebody's soul, and if you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it.”

The digital age makes it very easy to distance or detach yourself from the impact your work has—be it art, fanfic, videos, even memes. Online content is as important to people now as any other media, if not more. But it's also by far the easiest, fastest, and most effective form of it to erase from public access. Media so unbelievably important to people and in general. Yes, you—with the 2010s purple sparkle dog speedpaint. I still think about that speedpaint all the time, because it was the first time i learned that you could draw on a computer, and I thought it was cool as hell. I still do.

I do wish there was a stronger culture of preservation and consideration for this, because every time I see people talk about snuffing their stuff because it doesn't personally resonate with them anymore, I just think ...what about all the people it did?

I've seen lots of people saying "get over it, it doesn't even matter," but it fucking does. It does matter. Even if I didn’t make it, even if I don’t have to deal with being the one who made it, even if I'm naturally inclined to be distressed by it—It still matters. And there’s nothing you could ever say to suddenly make it not matter, because there’s nothing you could ever say to make it not matter to me.

Don't devalue the act of creation. Don't dismiss something you made. It's out there, in people's thoughts and hearts and souls, and that is real. Even if you don't know it. Especially if you don't know it. Especially in a world where physical media is being snuffed out, the internet is constantly dying without any physical remains to recover, social isolation is rampant, and simply because independently produced content online is still media.

Fanfiction can hold equal or greater significance to someone as a book, but you can’t unpublish a book. Authors don’t have a button that can vaporize every copy of their work across all time, but fanfiction authors do. I’m not counting people who download fics either—when you buy a book, that transaction is over. But online, you have the power of unending transaction that can be terminated instantly at your will. The process of publishing fanfic vs. publishing a book may be different, but people’s connection to the art is the same intensity.

So yeah. I do get depressed about the Internet being a constant Alexandria, but the times I get the most depressed is when I click someone's page and see that all their work is gone because they're ‘curating a new aesthetic’ for their page or some shit. Or weeding out all the "ugly" art. Or just went on whatever the hell 'thrill deleting' is, because they just get a kick out of it.

Fuck it—yeah! It upsets me! I’m not wrong to say that. I’m saying it!

Under the cut, because it got long as shit! Also don’t worry the ending is way sappier and more ‘beauty of human nature’ vibe so it’s not all doom and gloom lol

What if that was someone's favorite art of that character. What if someone read that 'cringe oneshot' on the worst day of their life. What if that Warriors meme vid is still burned into a college student’s mind despite being gone for 10 years. What if it's actually not just you and the ones and zeros you rent out to the world—secure in knowing the original will always be on your computer for you to do whatever you want with it.

I really, deeply wish there was more of a general awareness of this, because even though social media can be used like a diary, that’s functionally the opposite of what it is. It’s social media. When you post, it’s no longer in a vacuum, even though you can’t see the real humans that content touches—often deeply.

Media is history. You shouldn’t burn that history just because you personally believe it isn’t worth saving.

Because it’s no longer just your personal opinion. It’s no longer just your personal work. it’s. history. Memory of media is not a suitable replacement for the media itself. If it was, we wouldn’t save anything at all. Nostalgia is an agent of that. The definition of nostalgia is grief for moments of the past that are inaccessible, and the biggest balm for that pain is accessing a physical reminder of those moments. That opinion of yours is no longer personal. It’s weighed against uncountable people across all time that your thing is ALSO personal to. People who would, and will mourn its absence.

How many times have you joined an older fandom only to discover that some of its most popular works are gone? How many times have you routed through random blogs looking for scraps people hopefully reblogged? how many times have you used Wayback machine desperately praying that a fan fiction or a YouTube video will be there? How many times do you look up crunchy old vines or YouTube videos or anime AMV‘s? How many times do you remember old fanfic.net sex that impacted you in middle school, only to shake your head and go ‘probably no point even looking.’

i mourn the absence. No, people can’t and shouldn’t have their agency over what they post revoked, but they should be conscious of that weight. If you’re reading this and getting extremely annoyed, and you’re not in the pink text above,,,, good.

I honestly do hope it gets under your skin. I hope it sits with you. I hope you feel it every time you hit that button, and whether or not you do hit that button—if you hesitate, if you remember this, even spitefully, I’ve done my job. I am howling into the void. And I may not want an answer, but I do want my anguish to be heard and remembered. Because it isn’t me just being melodramatic.

I know I sound that way writing so much, but if my favorite writing YouTuber can drop trow this week and go, "yeah, sorry, all my video essays from less than a year ago that you listen to in the car all the time? I'm "rebranding" my content so i deleted them. besides, my personal views don't really agree align with the analyses i did, or the techniques i taught in them anyway. Sorry if some of the literal tens of thousands of you used them, but I don't want to feel shackled to having youtuber "classics" tied to me”

….then i guess I'm just going to have to sound dramatic! That fucking sucks! Hours of work and knowledge gone! This was a new channel too. It’s very likely there’s no archive of any kind, because who would think someone who worked hard enough to write, record, and edit hour-long videos, would just turn around and nuke it all? I definitely didn’t see it coming, but I did just start a new screenwriting class a few weeks ago, so I’ll tell you at least one person is REALLY missing those fucking videos right now. Because a lot of them were about specifically screenwriting, which I know jack shit about. and that specific person’s pace, editing, and style of breaking down information was the best suited style I found that I could focus on and absorb. There’s no replacement for that. No alternative for his individual perspective. his jokes. his opinions.

No, they may not resonate with him now, but in this decision, he’s put up a big middle finger to everyone who might have. And he has like 100k subscribers! Those are confirmed supporters! Imagine how many silent and untethered observers are feeling this loss right now. Imagine how many will not have it in the future.

If he never posted them at all, we wouldn’t know we had it. It wouldn’t be a loss. But we did. We did have it. Until he decided that no, we didn’t, because he just happens to be the one out of millions of individuals holding the button to burn it in a hundredth of a second.

His personal work, the attachment I had to it, and the ways that it helped me are now just ripped away. I am one person out of millions, literal MILLIONS of people who saw and liked this content before it vanished. The soul has been ripped, the access severed, and by CJ’s (and my) definition, the art is functionally dead. Not for the YouTuber or anyone else lucky enough to save a link or download, but everyone else. From this point until the end of time, even if people even two weeks from now don’t know it. Even if someone who stumbles upon his channel today, doesn’t know it.

We only mourn the concept of Alexandria because we had some kind of scope for what was inside. Yes, maybe you got self-conscious and deleted your 12 year old deviant art account. Do you know who else is doing that?? THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS of other twenty somethings who ALSO feel self-conscious about their old socials. Art. Fanfic. One direction fan videos. anything.

Suddenly, an unquantifiable amount of information from your age group—an entire age group in 2012, is. gone. And we will NEVER know what’s been erased from that history. We will NEVER know what could have been significant to us ten years from now. Twenty years from now. A hundred years. A thousand.

You could have deleted a fanfic that would have been someone else’s new go-to panic attack distraction tomorrow. You could have deleted a video someone used to laugh at with their friend who died yesterday. When you delete something, you risk tearing a hole in unknowable personal histories.

The Internet isn’t just a big library of Alexandria. It’s a library containing libraries. And those libraries have their own libraries in those libraries have their own as well. libraries inside libraries, inside libraries, ad infinitum. To conceive the amount of destroyed history on the Internet is crushing.

And I just can’t help but I ask myself how in gods name people can choose to contribute to that, instead of reposting everything to trash heap alts titled “hall of shame” or some shit.

You can offload to alts. Put up disclaimers. Make password locked blogs, or dropboxes, or anonymous imgur dumps. Anonymous reuploads. Orphan fics. Make a playlist or linktree of unlisted videos. Cut off the watermarks. Delete all references to it on your main. Make a dedicated unlisted playlist. make a google drive. Make new portfolio sites. Delete any questions you get about it. Change pen names. Pretend it never existed.

Give a heads up.

Something.

But don’t. kill. the media.

The knowledge that our stuff is going to forever be tied to us is a cross we have to bear, but the responsibility that comes with putting it out there in the first place, can’t be ignored.

Anyway. I'm not trying to start conflict. This is not a bash on anyone, nor a call for witch hunts. Or anon hate, or blocks and unfollows or anything of that nature. I'm not wishing ramifications or hate of any kind on anyone who does wants to do any of this.

I'm also not guilt tripping— I am not saying that you should feel bad. I AM saying why it makes me feel bad. That’s not guilting, it’s a dialogue. One I personally feel is long overdue.

It's me yelling into the void: please consider the real people on the other side of the screen before you hit that button. Realize and know that whatever you're about to erase from history could be the most important thing in the world to someone.

Art is an experience. It's why we revisit it. If art and history simply lived in the matter and code of media, we would only need to look at it once. We wouldn’t put things in museums. We wouldn’t build libraries. We wouldn’t look up vine compilations.

If you're able, consider (and I do mean consider, this is not a call to action) not destroying that. And don’t shrug it off as some pretentious asshole venting on Tumblr. You only need to look in the notes and tags to see that it isn’t just me. it’s never just me, or you, or the pixels.

And even if you do shrug it off, then at least recognize that what you make matters. Whatever you think about it, if it’s out there, that's not your discretion anymore. If a tree falls in the woods and even one person is around to see it, it fucking mattered. Because it happened. Don’t mulch your tree rings if you don’t have to. Because if enough people do it, a whole forest is gone. Media is history, no matter whether you think it’s worth putting in a museum, or only has 30 notes.

Thousands of years ago, a child named onfim doodled on his homework. They’re crude, and everyone has the wrong amount of fingers, and they’re also priceless archaeological artifacts recognizable throughout the world.

the only thing separating Onfim’s doodles and your MS paint Pokémon doodles is time. The only thing separating your old MS paint Pokémon doodles from being a priceless artifacts, thousands of years in the future is time. Your creations are already priceless artifacts. No matter what you do, don't ever, ever deny that. It isn’t blowing up your own ass, it’s artistic and anthropological fact.

The mundane and the supposedly unworthy are often the first things lost to time, and that’s why they’re so precious. That’s why artists who were before their time are scorned first only to be celebrated later. Do you think they knew that was going to happen?? What if they nuked it? Many probably did! But now that’s happening exponentially and instantaneously everywhere, WITHOUT the artist having to destroy their only copy—which makes it way easier and more dismissable.

Sometimes, If you’re revolutionary enough, people will make an effort to preserve your work, but recognized and thoroughly recorded work is rare compared to unrecognized and thoroughly recorded work.

Sometimes something is beloved enough that it would be impossible for it not to go down in history, but even then it isnt a guarantee, and it’s rare. But if van Gogh burned all of his paintings in a fit of despair before his death, we would have no van Gogh. Because he wasn’t respected as an artist in his time, but that wasn’t what defined the worth of his art. The people after him did, because his art was still there for them.

If you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it. If you belittle your art, you belittle the very real relationships and emotions and revisitations people have with the media. You defy the inherent worth and weight of a creation. you created. That's effort. It's passion. No matter how flippant or unskilled or worthless you think it is, it matters. Because at the end of the day, you could have chosen to make nothing at all, and you didn't.

•

Muting notifs

[awrkive]

THE LOVE PROGNOSIS, pt. 1 — JJK (m.)

for as long as you can remember, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic.

the girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations, and a cute little beach wedding to boot. but reality pretty much slaps you hard right on the face, because love, unfortunately, doesn’t come grand — it’s simple and it’s quiet, but it is quite painful, especially when the love that you’ve been seeking for all your adult life has just been right under your nose all this time.

PAIRING jungkook x female reader // mingyu x female reader

GENRE r18+ (angst, fluff, smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 20k 😍

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC medical!au, roommates!au, surgeon!jk, surgeon!reader (they are both 4th year residents and are co-workers), corporate lawyer!mingyu, oc and jk are bffs since med school but their love language is fighting each other <3, jk and mingyu are bffs during undergrad, jk sluts it out quite often😞, hopeless romantic!oc, countless mentions of weddings and engagements, angsty undertones, it’s the… yearning? 97liners assemble lmao, the surgeons gang: jk, oc, nayeon, doyeon, taehyung <3, explicit sexual content [dry h*mping, making out, c*nnilingus], alcohol consumption, arguments 🤓, i personally have only acquired a degree on Bingewatching Grey’s Anatomy so my medical knowledge is.. you see.. greys anatomy 💔 BUT! i did a lot of research for this pls dont crucify me 🙏🏼 belated happy birthday jaykay, my forever muse❤️❤️

NOTES hello awrkive nation!!!!!!!!!!!!! sorry this got delayed!! gave up on trying to make this a one shot cos it stretched out into 50k words IM SORRY! anyways check out my trello page for updates on my writing progress 🩷 make sure to comment down ur thoughts and like and reblog to circulate hehe !! asks are deeply appreciated!! scream your takes!! let me know what you think!! also made a spotify playlist for this mini-series soooo if u wanna listen to the songs that i think embody this fic, i've linked it below 🫶🏼

[ TLP MOODBOARD ] // [ SPOTIFY PLAYLIST ]

PART ONE | TWO | THREE

For as long as you can remember, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic.

The girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations and a cute little beach wedding to boot. You’re the kind of girl who thought her high school jock boyfriend would make good on his promise of keeping contact until college. That girl who thought the guy she met at nineteen at some sleazy frat party wanted more than just sex. The girl who thought that her boyfriend at twenty-one would finally be The One after introducing her to his parents on New Year’s Eve. You’re exactly the kind of girl who thought that it was smart to get a boyfriend in her first year of med school and get proposed to in fourth year.

Reality pretty much hit you hard with a big slap on the face; because you soon found out that your love interest doesn’t suddenly come into your life while you clock in your shift at a coffee shop, and there is no such thing as grand love declarations – no one wanted to profess their love to somebody at airports anymore, or even in the pouring rain, for god’d sake! And there is never going to be a beach wedding when there’s no one to do it with in the first place.

Because even if you do everything right, men just always somehow manage to do you wrong.

Your first boyfriend, Changsub, just suddenly ghosted you after you moved to a different town for college. When you saw him again for winter break, he was dating the girl from his History class – the blondie who was always the cause of your heated arguments in the lockers because you’ve always been jealous of her. Needless to say, you never talked to him again, and Changsub never bothered to reach out either.

At nineteen, you met Soohyun at a frat party your roommate invited you to. He was part of your college’s football team – the regular famous jock, and you felt a little bit special when he showed you a little bit of attention. When he chased you for a while, you caved in and had sex for the first time. You soon realized that was his thing – “popping them girls’ cherries” – as what you’ve overheard from his equally asshole teammates when you made an impromptu visit at their sweaty, stinky locker rooms – and that he apparently had a thing for girls in the cheerleading team (you were a part of it for awhile). Soohyun just told you it wasn’t working anymore. He was out and about with another girl three days later.

You swore at twenty-one, you were smarter. Heck, you got your heart broken two times already by then by the same brand of asshole with two different names and faces! You must’ve been a bit wiser, no?

But in your defense, Jaehyun was totally different from Changsub and Soohyun. He wasn’t an athlete. He was low-key… an introvert, and a total nerd. A film major guy who was so good at getting you through his art. He told you you were his muse, and you believed it wholeheartedly for the almost three years you’ve dated, most especially when he brought you to his hometown that one New Year’s Eve and introduced you to his family on your first anniversary.

You don’t exactly know what happened then… he just ran cold. Backed out of your plans of moving in together. Suddenly got so busy with his gigs when he normally would make time. Until the elephant in the room was acknowledged and it was just over before you knew it.

That relationship was your first “I love you”, Jaehyun said it was the same for him.

Fast forward, he gets married two years into the break-up, which is six years ago from the present. He has three kids now, two lovely girl twins and one boy. You didn’t go to the wedding, just sent him a post-it card that said you’re happy for him.

Which is true. He was your first love, but the heartbreak didn’t last long like you thought it would.

Because lastly, there was Eunwoo. The guy you met during the construction of the condominium near the apartment where you were staying at for med school.

Cha Eunwoo was an intern architect around that time, a nice one at that that it didn’t really take long for you guys to hit it off. Too many encounters on the street made you think that maybe it wasn’t just a coincidence anymore that he was there whenever you walked passed by. You really thought it would be difficult for you to love somebody again like how you loved Jaehyun… but Eunwoo made it easy. He did everything right. From the cute encounter, a grand love declaration in your fourth year together wherein he proposed to you in a romantic cruise ship dinner, down to the beach wedding he promised you during that night.

What was supposed to be a three-month engagement lasted longer than you both wanted, though. And it was mostly due to you because you told him you couldn’t marry yet. Not until you pass your licensure exam. Unintentionally, it stretched into a year. Eunwoo blamed it on your internship, said you were too busy that you couldn’t really give him time anymore.

You still remember that argument so vividly inside your head. When you said you told him already that it was life for you in residency. He rebutted with the sentiment that if you wanted to, you would. But you knew it was unfair of him to say that – not when he was also volunteering himself for the mountain of projects at his firm just so he could impress the senior architects there. Eventually, the engagement was called off. You two broke up. You both settled that it was the schedule conflict… you were just both so busy with your careers. Such big ambitions. So much to prove, passionate to a fault.

But two years ago, Eunwoo got married, and his wife is a general physician. The last time you two accidentally bumped into each other at a café downtown, he said he was “so happy and contented” that he felt like “taking a sabbatical to focus on being a husband”.

You guessed then he doesn’t actually mind dating doctors. Doesn’t mind making sacrifices for them. He just minds specifically you.

Your long, tragic dating history should already stop you by now from believing in love altogether. You mean, it just never works out for you, do they? The universe gives you a taste of what it’s like to embark on that journey, but it never takes you to the final destination.

But what can you say… love is just so special to you; romance, falling in love… they hold a significant place in your heart that you can’t help but bet on it every time it comes. You just have so much love to give – but unfortunately no one to give it to, because the men you date always don’t want you in the end of it all.

It bubbles up frustration in you, especially when you see all your exes getting fucking married left and right and them having the audacity to send you an invitation – and even thank you for what you’ve helped made them become. Eunwoo made that lame ass speech in the café. It’s such a subtle physical act of slapping you right on the bone of your cheeks and violently hurts you psychologically.

You’re frustrated that marriage seem to come easy for them, but never for you.

It’s why you unintentionally spat water out of your mouth when one of your co-residents, close friend, Nayeon, announced:

“Minhyuk proposed!”

Naturally, your other friends at the cafeteria attend to your spluttering, with Doyeon patting your back and asking, “Girl, are you okay?”

You shake your head repeatedly at them, tapping your chest to regulate your breathing, putting on a tight smile before turning to Nayeon.

“I’m sorry— what? Minhyuk proposed?” You ask her, and you don’t intend it to sound incredulous.

Nayeon, thank god, doesn’t notice it. And you realize it’s because she’s in a lovesick haze to care about anything else.

“Yep!” She almost squeals. “You guys are all invited to the engagement party next week on Friday.” She giggles when Doyeon pokes her side, lightheartedly teasing her about the wedding.

“Oh my god, I’m so happy for you!” You say, grinning widely, but your jaw hurts from the way you forced it. You look at each one of them; Nayeon, Doyeon, and Taehyung. “You guys are soon gonna be… married.”

Taehyung turns to Doyeon, taking a bite of his sandwich. “Doyeon’s still single, though.”

Doyeon throws a napkin at him. “It’s because your kind are bums. Anyway, Taehyung is also still not married.”

Taehyung pauses. Then, he purses his lips into a thin line, raising his eyebrows, nodding slowly.

“Well… about that…”

“He’s planning to propose to Hyerin!” Nayeon exclaims and quickly covers her mouth when some of the doctors in the cafeteria turned their heads to look in your direction. She shrinks herself small, as if realizing what she’s done, and then her eyes widen when she sees your guys reaction. “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, Taehyung!” Nayeon quickly apologizes to him who looks like heaven and earth fell on him. She scrambles to say, “It’s just that I saw the ring in his locker today and so of course I have to ask and you guys met Hyerin, she’s an amazing woman and I’m so excited for her and Taehyung and she are a good couple aaand… I’m shutting my mouth.” She stops, closing an imaginary zipper over her lips when she notices the death glare Taehyung’s sending her way.

He turns to look at the rest of you.

“Well… you heard it from her.”

“Oh my god, Tae! This is insane!” Doyeon tells him. “When are you proposing?”

Taehyung shakes his head and rubs his nape. “I don’t know… she has this, uh, case that she’s confident on winning this Thursday. Maybe I’m going to do it when she gets home that day…” he trails off, and Nayeon coos at him when she sees his ears turning red. Doyeon throws back the napkin Taehyung threw at him, and she receives a juvenile pinch on the arm from Taehyung back.

You laugh along with them.

But deep inside, you’re finding it hard to process all the information that you learned today. You were just letting out words when you said that they were all going to be married, an exaggeration at best, because Nayeon is apparently now a fiancé, Taehyung has been in a long-term relationship with his prosecutor girlfriend that it’s easy to assume their next step is tying it down, and Doyeon is single but you refuse to believe that’s the case. It’s a wild theory that your friends have but you all feel like she has a secret boyrfriend or something.

Apparently, though, you’re not exaggerating at all. Because Taehyung is indeed planning to tie it down.

“It seems like everybody is getting married these days, no?” Doyeon mentions. She looks at you and you feel your heart beating abnormally for some reason. “What about you, __? How did that blind date last week go?”

She’s talking about the guy whom your cousin set you up with a few months back and have only gotten around to meet a week ago, Park Hyungshik.

They all seem to eagerly wait for your answer, and you can only meekly shake your head, sipping on a juice box so your jittering fingers can have something to do.

“It was okay.”

You can see the way their shoulders deflate, and you know you don’t need to explain the details for them to know how bad the date actually went.

“Fuck men.” Doyeon sighs.

“I agree.” Taehyung affirms, followed by Nayeon.

It earns a laugh from you.

“Fuck off, you guys.” You say, rolling your eyes, knowing they’re blindly judging Hyungshik in unconditional support for you. The joke is appreciated though, as it makes you light up and forget about the sudden grey that washes over your insides at the terrifying thought that maybe you’re never going to be married at this rate.

“You’re laughing right now but I’m still scared that you’ll just put up an IG story of you and Jungkook getting married on a random Sunday.” Nayeon suddenly says which elicits quite a violent reaction from you.

“Fucking gross, Nayeon!” You slap her on her arm and she gives you an ingenuine, “Owe!”

Taehyung laughs and adds in another nonsensical input, “That’s where my grandma and grandpa started, by the way. The line between love and hate is thin, after all.”

Your face contorts into a deeper frown every passing second as they continue to tease you.

“Fuck you, Taehyung. I’ll kill you in your sleep and me and Doyeon will hide the body.” You threaten him with your eyes and when he only laughs more, you make quick work of your hands and snatch out his egg omelet, putting it in your mouth fast enough he doesn’t get the chance to take it back.

“Aw, man! Hyerin cooked that for me!” He whines, going back to his seat, defeated after trying to get back the food from you.

But Nayeon is more concerned about another thing.

“Why is it only you and Doyeon? I can help hide Taehyung’s body, too!” She says, face painted with an expression so solemn as if you betrayed her.

“You made the joke first, you don’t get the privilege.” You cross your arms under your chest.

“I’ll commit perjury for you in court. Doyeon can’t do that ‘cos she still hasn’t told us about her secret boyfriend.” She insists.

Taehyung deadpans. “You guys really do love me a lot here, no?”

“We never pretended to love you, Taehyung,” Doyeon taps his arm, giving him a contrasting look of faux sympathy. “And for the nth time, I do not have a secret boyfriend,” She says dryly, sounding exhausted for having to say it again. And then, she turns to you, “Where is that punk, Jungkook, anyway?”

You scowl at her. “Seriously guys, why do you always look for him from me?”

“It’s just that you always know where he is, babe.” Nayeon says as a matter of fact. “No offense.” She says, looking straight into your eyes. When she sees your eyebrow raising higher, she adds quickly, “And malice!” And then she continues some more, “Even though I personally think you’d be cute together and all but we understand perfectly you both just have this sort of weird relationship where you’re platonic roommates and you’re like best friends but you argue all the time for no reason—”

“Oh my god, shut up, Nayeon.” Doyeon cuts her off before she goes on a spiral again.

“See why it’s only me and Doyeon who gets to hide Taehyung’s body when I kill him? You’re gonna tell the police word for word how exactly I did it.” You tell her, and she pouts at you.

“And we’re back to killing me again.” Taehyung comments, sighing, and you stick your tongue out at him in that juvenile manner, only that Taehyung does the same because he’s an even bigger child than you.

“Kids, stop fighting.” Doyeon warns. “Seriously, where is Jungkook?”

“He told me he has a laparoscopic cholecystectomy.” You say.

“Damn.” Comments Taehyung.

Everybody including you nod in understanding.

It’s always been an inside joke in your friend group that Jungkook and you are gonna end up marrying each other because you’ve known each other for a long time, the closest to each other, live together – and you both are also the ones that can’t keep a relationship.

After your breakup with Eunwoo in the middle of your internship which was four years ago, you took a break from dating for a very long time. It’s only two years ago that you picked up going on casual dates, having quick flings, all that sort of stuff. It’s an occasional thing and they never end up as something more.

It’s why you’re still single up until now, and it’s not even that you want to be so – you prefer to be in a happy, loving relationship, thank you very much – but you yearn for a deeper connection with someone, and every date just doesn’t seem to click. And even though you find a little ugly bitterness when somebody brings up marriage, you would never, ever want to settle down with somebody just ‘cause you feel like you have to.

Meanwhile, Jungkook is a special case. He’s single because he wants to be. He’s single because according to him, the bachelor life has “chosen” him and he can’t do anything about it.

It’s why he goes to this myriads of dates… with those… women. Sleeps around. Never attempted a serious relationship as far as you’ve known him except that one time in your last year of med school when he exclusively dated Min Sora for about a year.

You don’t judge him for the kind of life he lives. He’s just an admittedly good-looking, liberated guy who hooks up with good-looking women who are looking for the same fun as him. When you asked him if they ever do fall, he told you that they always agree prior sex that it’s just going be a one-time thing (two or three or four times if they particularly like each other… or whatever the hell he said).

Despite that, Jungkook is – and always has been your best friend. You met each other in med school and were in the same study group together with Doyeon and Taehyung.

As much as heartbreak is a constant in your life, Jungkook is a frontrunner in it as well because from being in almost all the same classes during med school for four years, you both decided to live in the same apartment unit together.

It has two different bedrooms, of course. The apartment’s a big unit he and Taehyung owned three years ago until Taehyung moved in with his girlfriend. Jungkook couldn’t pay for it all by himself, and the only logical roommate choice was you because when he proposed it to Doyeon, she just looked at him disgusted beyond belief.

You’ve been with each other for so long it’s quite impossible to not know the other like the back of their hand. You’ve seen him during his worst in med school days up until the years of your residency as does him you. You both shared the highs and lows of life with the other’s presence, and as much as you both quite differ in the way you approach certain things in life – he’s ultimately your person, the one-call-away friend (or the one-knock-to-the-door-friend), and the guy you can always lean on when things are just particularly hard to bear.

Jungkook may not be the most ideal when it comes to romance, but he’s the guy you’d certainly wish was your friend.

Why you don’t understand when the rest of your friends tease you both is because you’re so… platonic with each other. Sure, you’re closest – you knew each other first – but you and Jungkook never acted borderline sweet for other people to be making assumptions. You aren’t the kind of friends who call each other siblings but then get weirdly clingy towards each other behind everyone’s backs.

You may have had a tiny bit of crush on him when you first saw him during first year of med school – it’s a common fact that he’s handsome and whatever, okay – but he had never shown interest; from post grad all throughout the years of your shared residency. You never, either.

But maybe it’s the teasing, since you always fight like goddamn children whenever you’re near each other. There’s nothing romantic about it, though, you don’t think so. In your defense, that’s how your dynamic works! That’s how your friendship with everybody works! If you didn’t banter with a person, you probably hate them.

Shaking the thoughts of Jungkook in your head, you continue to eat your lunch, asking questions about Nayeon’s further plans, squeezing your break with the rest of your friends, knowing your pager is going to beep anytime soon.

What Doyeon said, though, everybody does seem to be getting married these days. If you could sigh, you would, but you have to do with a little bit of internal mulling for now lest one of the gang notices and you get interrogated for it. You don’t want to get aired out for feeling suddenly weird at the tough realization that again, everybody seems to be getting married and proposed to except… you.

You’re happy for them – you really are! You’d be such a shit friend if you weren’t. But there’s a pang in your chest and you know exactly where it’s coming from.

There was an added case to the OR schedule when you checked it earlier this morning, and you were assigned to it as per instruction from the chief of your team – a melanoma excision.

After your lunch, you went to scrub in for the surgery and it was what made you busy including the paper works needed to be done, so busy that you thought you’d forgotten the pain from a while ago.

Turns out, it sat at some bench at the far end of your heart, hiding and shrinking itself for a little while, only showing up when it’s time for you to clock out; in the quiet of the locker room, alone while you change out of your scrubs.

You let out a heavy sigh and lean your forehead to your locker door, closing your eyes and getting your breathing even.

You’re just tired from work. You tell yourself. You had two surgeries today; it would be true. But you know it’s not entirely that. It’s the reminder of your loneliness when you see an envelope peeking out from your locker.

You take out the invitation card for Nayeon’s engagement party she’s given you this afternoon. It’s a thick off-white material that has her and her fiancé’s name printed on gold beveled font. So intricate to the touch; you deduce once you run your fingers over it.

“Yo, what are you up to?”

You quickly stand up straight and hide the envelope behind your back, your other hand going right above your chest when you turn around only to see Jeon Jungkook approaching the inside of the room.

“Jesus christ, learn to knock.” You say, genuinely surprised and taken aback. Jungkook cocks a brow at you.

“Feisty.” He muses, and the way his eyes fall to your chest makes you realize you’re still in your bra having not put yourself into a clean and fresh top yet since you decided to have a sentimental moment in your locker door like some high school girl.

“Asshole.” You mutter under your breath, making quick work of putting on a shirt.

Only when you’re done wearing it do you see Jungkook stripping out of his own scrubs until he’s left with only his boxers across from you.

“Some decorum, please?” You tell him, turning around to sit on a bench to change out of your sneakers and wearing a more comfortable pair of sandals.

You hear Jungkook laugh behind you.

“What can I say? I’m a bit of an exhibitionist, you see.” You take a quick look at him so he can see how far your eyes roll to the back of your head. Jungkook ignores that, wearing his shirt while he says, “You’re out the same time tonight?”

You take out your ponytail and comb your hair through your fingers to fix it.

“Yeah. You?”

Jungkook smirks and suddenly there’s something flying at your direction. You’re quick on your reflex and manage to catch it on time, only to realize it’s his keys.

“You’re driving.”

It earns an instant groan from you.

Jungkook puts on another pair of shoes while laughing. “What? I drove us here this morning.”

You’re about to give him an attitude but then you realize making him pity you may be more effective. Stepping closer to him, you sit on the bench where he placed his foot to tie his shoes on. You look up at him and try your puppy face on.

“But I had two surgeries today, Kook.”

Jungkook stares at you, his expression unreadable. A few seconds pass by, with you blink up at him, and you think he’s gonna cave.

Instead of getting swayed by your poor attempt to get his sympathy, he takes down his leg and says with a sarcastic smile on his face, “I did a major one. Yours were both minor.”

Your shoulders deflate, making sure to jab at his thigh that was at eye level and snark, “And two is more than one. Fuck off, Jeon.”

Jungkook follows behind you while his boisterous ass is laughing.

“Don’t get pissed at me, are you kidding? It’s your turn to drive. Favor for a favor.”

You turn back to him, and because you were walking in a faster pace, he crashes to your back. He grips your shoulder, pursing his lips into a thin line, obviously holding in another fit of laughter.

“You’re gonna drive us tomorrow here, do you understand?” You say, giving him an ominous glare.

Jungkook raises his hands up. “Okay, okay.” He nods his head, and to piss you off more, he adds, “Bossy.”

That earns him a pinch to the side which he quickly dodges. Rolling your eyes, you shake your head and continue to head towards the exit.

You both enter his car soon after.

“I miss my car…” you longingly say, turning on the ignition to start driving.

“It’s still in the shop?” Jungkook asks while rummaging around his compartment glove to look for a snack. He always has a few in it. It’s convenient.

“Yeah, the mechanic told me it’s gonna take a few more weeks. So,” you look at him bitterly.

“That’s tough.” Jungkook comments, opening a granola bar and biting on it. He extends his hand to you. “You want some?”

You stretch your neck to the side, eyes still on the road while taking a bite off his food.

“Tough because you can’t bring your girls here anymore?” You joke a little. Jungkook gives you a dirty look. Your eyes widen a little, realizing what you just said. “Please say you don’t fuck in your car. I’ve touched your passenger seat and your backseat.”

“Give me more credit, yeah? I don’t fuck in my car, that shit is unhygienic as hell,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, and you heave a sigh of relief upon his confirmation. “I wine and dine my women before we do the deed, thank you very much.”

“You’re just so sweet, aren’t you?” You say with a straight face.

Jungkook sing-songs. “Just like how they like it.”

“You’re really beating them off with a stick these past few years, huh?”

“A gorgeous stick, might I add.”

That earns a disgusted groan from you, which he laughs at, and you drop the subject before it even goes to another place.

There’s a comfortable silence that sits on the air for a while until Jungkook speaks.

“Hey, what was that earlier?”

“Hm?”

“In the locker room.” He says.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. Clearing your throat, you answer, “Oh, it’s just, uh… Nayeon’s getting married. Do you know that?”

“Yeah.”

You turn to him in surprise. “Wait, how? You didn’t eat lunch with us.”

Jungkook snorts. “I saw the invitation cards in her locker yesterday, she thought she was being discreet. She threatened me to keep it a secret when I asked her about it, though. I guess she told you guys today at lunch?”

“Oh my god, you really need to stop snooping in everybody’s locker.”

“I do not snoop in in everybody’s locker.”

You give him a certain look. Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Don’t change the subject.”

Letting out a heavy breath, you look straight ahead as you say, “I don’t know. I wasn’t doing anything…”

“Just getting a little sentimental in the locker room?”

“A bit.” You purse your lips. “But it’s not a big deal.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything to that. From your peripheral vision, you can see him staring at you but you choose to ignore that, focusing on driving instead.

“If you say so.” He says after a while.

You’re thankful for the dismissal. Jungkook’s usually insistent that you tell him everything – he’s just nosy like that – but deep down you know it’s because he cares. And if you’re in any trouble, he’s always willing to be there for you may it be listening to you vent or eat unholy amount of Chinese take out in the middle of the night.

As you went on the road, he played a few of his playlists and they served as background noise as you both talked about your day, like how your surgeries went. It’s a usual drive when you’re both in the same car together – which you’ve done quite a few times now because after all, you work in the same building and gas is expensive. It’s the most logical way to save up in this economy.

These past few weeks, though, it just so happened that your car got a little bitchy and started to act up so you made a bargain with Jungkook.

Anyway, you both arrive at your apartment shortly, with Jungkook and you taking turns in the shower.

“You wanna order in something?” Says Jungkook who’s currently drying his hair, a towel wrapped around his lower half.

He wasn’t kidding when he said he’s some kind of exhibitionist. Jungkook has the habit of walking around the apartment shirtless and sometimes with just even his boxers on, and it’s not like you aren’t used to seeing it! You admittedly see a lot of it when you guys would change in the locker rooms back at the hospital, but that is work, and you have more things to worry about at work other than your co-worker changing in front of you.

Still, it’s hard to get used to his exhibitionist tendencies. You had a hard time with it especially in the first few months of living together, but you had to adapt, and right now, even though you can say you’re partly immune to it, his naked upper half still bothers you. A little.

Listen, you’re a human being with primal instincts and men who have good bodies do, in fact, distract you a tiny bit.

“Nope.” You take a sip of the glass of water, closing the refrigerator with your foot, looking at Jungkook who groans at your answer. “What?”

“I was hoping we could split the delivery fee.” He deadpans.

“Wow. And they say chivalry is dead.”

Jungkook laughs while you head towards your room. He follows you until you reach your door so you turn to him, putting your hand on your hip as you ask, “What?”

“Don’t think too much about it.”

Your furrow your brows. “How do you mean?”

“The wedding,” Jungkook says with a soft smile. “And weddings, in general. I know you’re thinking about a few things up in that smart brain of yours. Don’t.”

You’re completely taken aback by his words, but at the same time, you’re not at all that surprised. Jungkook can read you almost like an open book.

Still, you decide to lie.

“I’m not thinking about weddings, weirdo.”

“Liar,” Jungkook’s brow arches, and you know he’s figured out your shit. “Your nostrils flared up. You’re lying.”

You groan, giving him a light jab at his bicep. Jungkook chuckles.

“My nostrils do not flare up.”

“It does so,” Jungkook points out. “Like this.” He stands there on your door and start to purposefully enlarge his nostrils to imitate you.

You roll your eyes. “My face is not like that when I lie. Go back to your room,” you say, pushing him slightly out of your doorway, ready to close it in front of his face, but you add more, “And don’t bother me.”

Jungkook stands up straight and gives you a salute. “Yes, ma’am.” he says in a register octave lower, walking away with laughter as you tell him he’s annoying. You roll your eyes once again before finally closing your bedroom door.

A lot of people may judge your love for romance as naivety, but you really couldn’t care less. Even if you get heart broken countless times, love will never fail to make your heart soft and make you feel like you’re floating.

It’s exactly what you think as you look at Nayeon and her fiance, Minhyuk, on the stage huddled so close together, laughing and giggling to each other. They look so incredibly happy. So connected. So sweet. It brings a feeling of warmth to your heart – to see one of the most important people in your life finally meeting the person she wants to spend the rest of her life with. It makes you melt on the inside to see two people so deeply in love that it emanates in the whole venue of the garden their engagement party is being held at today.

The weather is sunny – not too hot, like the universe knows not to fuck it up for Nayeon and her fiance. There’s also a lot of people; their families, some of Nayeon’s friends and probably Minhyuk’s – people you’ve never seen before. You assume it’s Minhyuk’s friends or acquaintances. The guest list for their wedding must be big, but it isn’t surprising, given that Minhyuk comes from the big corporate world.

“You want more champagne?” Jungkook whispers beside you, ready to stand up from his seat.

You stare at him, and you notice his eyes are not even on yours. He has it glued towards a woman across from you. A pretty woman wearing a satin dress that shows off her slender figure. You notice Jungkook’s been looking at her since the beginning of the party.

Shaking your head, you scoff. “You’re just gonna pick up some woman.”

Jungkook sputters and quickly take his gaze off the woman. “No, I’m not. I just think she’s familiar.”

You raise your brow. “Let me guess… one of your hook-ups?”

Jungkook huffs. And then off he goes.

Everybody has their plus-ones except you two, and now that Jungkook is probably off his mission to find a hook-up for the night, you’re left alone as usual.

You don’t feel bad about it. The champagne is good and there’s hors d'oeuvre on the table.

“Miss?”

You look up, finding the owner of the voice.

And holy hell.

“Hi.” You greet reluctantly, not sure if he meant you. You’re also trying to contain a blush from spreading across your cheeks because goddamn, was the man beautiful.

He smiles. Wow. Whoever this is… he looks pretty damn good.

“Is this seat taken?” The stranger says, pointing to the now empty seat beside you. You look around but can’t really spot Jungkook.

So, you shake your head, gesturing to the chair beside you. “No, not really. You want to sit here?”

He nods. “Alone?”

“No, not really… but I’m Nayeon’s friend. I’m her co-resident at the hospital.” You smile, taking a sip of your champagne that’s already about to run out. “Are you one of Minhyuk’s friends?”

“You guessed right. Law school friends. Worked at the same firm when he was a practicing lawyer until he quit some time ago,” You nod at that, and he gives you a boyish smile again. He offers his hand for a handshake. “I’m Mingyu, by the way. Kim Mingyu.”

You take his hand.

“I’m ___.” You both laugh when you shake your hands together.

His hands feel rough but at the same time warm. It’s nice.

“You’re a doctor?” Mingyu asks, keeping up the conversation.

“Yeah. A resident surgeon.” You glance at him. “I’m assuming you’re a lawyer?”

Mingyu nods. “Yeah. Corporate.”

“I see.” You nod, looking in front of you again, trying to stray from any eye contact. He’s way too attractive for your own liking.

“Say… I hate to make this about work but I just need to ask real quick,” Mingyu says, and when you look at him, you furrow your brows at the worry in his eyes, suddenly growing nervous at the depth of seriousness it’s showing. “So, I got here, and I suddenly have this sort of… feeling of heart palpitation. Increased heart rate. It’s like it’s missing a beat and it’s been making me real nervous.”

“Oh,” you look at him in concern. “That’s— did you drink uh… coffee?” He shakes his head. You place your champagne glass on the table and turn your body to him so you can face him properly. You don’t know if it’s just the doctor in you, but you forget about pretty much everything when you see or hear someone feeling under normal. “Are you a smoker, then?” You continue your line of questioning.

“I quit years ago.”

“I see… okay, uhm…” You look around, trying to look for something. “There’s a lot of roots for heart palpitations. Does your heart feel like pounding right now? Flip-flopping or something like that?”

Mingyu nods.

“Okay… well I can’t say for sure – I wish I have stethoscope with me right now. But I’m gonna lay out all the possible reasons why you might be feeling so. Smoking’s out of the question. You didn’t drink coffee, but do you drink more than one cup in a day?”

“Not in the past few weeks, no.”

“So, you’re not overcaffeinated, then. I really don’t want to lay this out on you, but you might want to check in with your doctor if this is not your first time feeling this. Heart palpitations is normal most of the time but I’ve seen lots of people get in these situations and it ends up being arrhythmia, which is a really serious condition.” You look at him straight in the eyes.

Mingyu looks stricken back. “Well… are there any more reasons out there that’s not… as dangerous?”

You still in your position.

Oh, right. There is more.

“Are you feeling certain emotions right now? Like, really, strong emotion?” You say, internally face-palming yourself because how can you not remember one of the very basic roots of palpitation!

“Yes, I am.”

“Well… certain emotions do trigger your heartbeat to accelerate. It might be anxiety… fear, panic, stress…” You look at Mingyu, noticing that his once serious face is now forming a smile. That makes you back-track, but you hesitantly continue. “... infatuation.”

And then he says, “I think you’re right off the bat with that one.”

Your lips part slightly. A few seconds passed and then suddenly, what he’s doing registers in your head, and you can’t help but to let out a laugh.

“Oh my god,” You say in disbelief. “You weren’t– you weren’t actually asking for medical advice?”

“Bad way to flirt with a pretty woman, huh?” Mingyu smiles and it’s so dashing that you shy away from his gaze, but you’re still laughing at the turn of events.

“God, no. I can’t believe I didn’t get it earlier.” You say, gingerly placing a palm on your forehead at the embarrassment.

But Mingyu just laughs along with you.

“It was just bad flirting. I’m sorry,” He says, sipping from his glass and takes a glance at you. “I can do better.”

You arch your brow. “Oh?”

“Yeah. If you let me. Say, Friday, ten o’clock?”

You chuckle. “That was really smooth.”

Mingyu was about to say something when suddenly, you hear a familiar voice approaching your direction.

“Mingyu?” When you look up, you see Jungkook. You eye him in confusion, wondering how the hell he knew Mingyu’s name.

But then Mingyu speaks and you grow even more confused.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

“Oh hey, it’s you,” Jungkook says, and he looks genuinely surprised. Mingyu stands up from his seat to give Jungkook a hug, slapping him on the back – kind of like how guys usually greet each other. You watch as Jungkook reluctantly reciprocates it.

“You work with Nayeon?” Mingyu asks, and even with a smile on his face, you can see he’s also in disbelief to be seeing Jungkook.

Jungkook nods at him, still looking a bit stricken. You can’t figure out if it’s just his surprised face or something else. You’ve never seen him look so… stunned like this before. Nevertheless, he says, “Yeah. How ‘bout you?”

“Been with Lee and Song for the past three years, Minhyuk’s previous firm before he quit and went out to the business world.” Mingyu chuckles, tapping Jungkook’s back.

Jungkook smiles. “That’s crazy, man. I can’t believe we’ll meet here again.”

Mingyu, seemingly sharing the same sentiment, says, “Man, it’s been, like, what– almost ten years?”

“Yeah, yeah, too long, man.” Jungkook nods, chuckling slightly.

You hate to interrupt, but you’re confused, and you need to confirm something.

“Wait,” You butt in, making them both look at you. “You know each other?”

Jungkook sits across from you while Mingyu follows.

“We did pre-med together during undergrad.” Mingyu says.

“You did pre-med in undergrad?” You look at Mingyu incredulously, and he nods with a bashful smile on his face. You squint your eyes at him, feeling slightly betrayed that he asked you all that stuff earlier when the whole while he has a pre-med degree.

Jungkook cuts in.

“How the hell do you two know each other?” He said, leaning back and pointing between you two. It seems like he’s finally out of the trance he was in earlier.

“I just met him today.” You tell Jungkook, blinking your eyes at him.

“Well, how about you two? How do you know each other?” Mingyu asks and the whole thing suddenly feels like watching a game of tennis somehow.

You’re about to answer when Jungkook beats you to it.

“We’re co-workers. Together with Nayeon.”

Mingyu nods his head and then turns to you, “So not his girlfriend, then?”

“What? No!” you didn’t mean for it to come out that violently, so you repeat it in a gentler manner this time. “I mean no. What?”

Mingyu turns to Jungkook who’s now looking confused.

“I was just asking her out for a date.”

You suddenly feel blood rushing to your cheeks at his straightforwardness. In front of Jungkook, out of all people! You aren’t embarrassed! You just feel weird and shy.

But Jungkook looks at you as if silently asking you if Mingyu’s being serious. You tuck your bottom lip under your teeth.

Then he nods his head slowly. “Really?” Jungkook chuckles, looking at you. “What’d you say?”

Mingyu looks at you with a hopeful smile. “What do you say?”

You feel weird about doing the whole thing in front of someone, but you look at Mingyu again – how attractive he is, his charming smile, his physique, and his charisma… and you don’t think it’d be too bad to chance at least one date with him.

So, you nod, avoiding Jungkook’s sudden way too intense gaze.

“I would like to,” But he cocks his head to the side. You chuckle, adding, “Yes, Mingyu. I’d like to go out with you.”

“Woah!”

“Jungkook, please knock!”

You look at Jungkook irritably while you lock your stud earring, standing up from your chair in front of the vanity table to pick up your purse from the edge of your bed.

“I was just going to borrow your hair dryer.” Jungkook says, trudging inside your room freely which makes you roll your eyes at him.

You watch as he expertly makes his way to your vanity table and slides one of the drawers, taking out the hair dryer.

“You need to buy your own one.” You say with a straight face.

But Jungkook just stands there for a while, and when his stare goes on longer than necessary, you start feeling conscious.

“What.”

“What are you so… dolled up for?”

You jab him on the chest when you get near him, enough to make him wince. “What an asshole way to say I look good.”

Jungkook laughs. Your heart drops.

Most of the time, you understand that your dynamic consists of teasing and bantering with each other until one of you gets pissed off. That’s usually you. But they never go too far – you’ve built a foundation of respect in your relationship which you love. However, sometimes, there are moments when you’re under a certain kind of pressure – like right now in which you only have twenty minutes before Mingyu arrives to pick you up outside of your building complex and you still haven’t done your hair – and Jungkook laughing while looking at you is not helping.

The faux confidence falls as fast as that.

“Okay, Jungkook, can you just tell me nicely if this dress looks ridiculous or if I put too much make-up on?” You say, failing not to sound defensive.

Jungkook’s quick to halt his laughter, and he looks taken aback at your clipped tone.

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

“You were laughing at me.” You point out, turning around to rummage through your make-up products scattered on the top surface of the furniture, thinking that maybe you overblushed. So, you look at yourself in the mirror.

Jungkook situates himself on your vanity table so you’ll look at him.

“Wha— you thought I was laughing at you?” You don’t answer, checking if your cheeks are way too pink, purposefully ignoring him. “Okay, that’s– I wasn’t. I’m sorry if you thought I was. I laughed at your words, not the way you look.”

You let out a sharp breath, look at him angrily, ready to present more argument, but you see the look of sincerity on his face and you realize then that you’re being borderline sensitive.

You sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Jungkook places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

You pout at him. “It’s just… first date jitters. I feel slightly anxious, I don’t know,” You sigh again, “I bought this dress two days ago.” You say, looking down at it. It has a tube top with thin straps, fitting your upper half like a glove but flows prettily to the bottom, stopping just about four inches above your knee.

“It looks good on you.” Jungkook comments, and you quint your eyes at him.

“You swear?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Why would I lie?”

“To make me feel better, I don’t know,” Then you can’t help but chuckle. “Anyway, does my make-up look okay? I didn’t put too much blush?”

“You have lipstick on your teeth,” Jungkook says, baring his own to emphasize what he meant.

“Shit.” You panic, quickly ducking down to check it in the mirror.

You soon realize Jungkook was fucking with you when you hear him laughing beside you.

“I hate you.” You hiss, pushing his thighs so he can get off your vanity table. He remains on his seat, fighting your force while laughing. “Ugh, don’t you have a date of your own or something?” You groan as you take the hair straightener on the side, sitting back down again on the chair to straighten a certain part of your hair again so it’s looks nothing but perfect.

“Ohh, so you are going on a date.” Jungkook says as if he wasn’t there in front of you when Mingyu asked you out.

You give him a weird look. “With Mingyu, remember?”

“Oh, right.” He’s quiet for awhile, and then, “You’re really dating him?”

You put down the hair straightener.

“Yeah… why?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Nothing.”

But you want to insist. “He’s your friend. You told me he’s a nice guy.”

He nods his head. “That’s true.”

You eye him suspiciously. “You’re making me nervous.”

Jungkook chuckles and pats your head. You scowl at him and slap his wrist.

“You’re like a cat,” Jungkook comments. “Anyway, I told you, it’s nothing. It’s just…” He trails off. You look at him, waiting for his continuation.

You don’t expect the genuine smile he sends your way.

“I wish it works out for you this time.”

Lips parted, you think about what to say to that, but nothing comes out of your mouth.

Jungkook gets off the table and brings with him your blow dryer. Before he heads out completely, he tells you, “And don’t worry about how you look. Mingyu likes pretty women. You’re exactly his type.”

“Really, mini-golf?” You ask Mingyu, but he already has his fingers intertwined with you as you both enter the course.

You’ve just had dinner at some fancy restaurant that served, admittedly, good steak. He told you it was some sort of special place for him; where he takes himself to whenever he closes a deal or wins a case. You tried not to think too much about what it meant that he brought you there – given that you’re only on your first date.

But hey, maybe he thought you deserve to eat good steak? That’s probably what it was.

You don’t ask.

You thought the night was over when you finished your meal and good two glasses of Malbec, but Mingyu commented in his car that he’d love to burn off the food for a moment – and you didn’t really want to leave just yet.

So, you end up at Pier 26, and Mingyu’s enthusiastic.

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” He says, and you have no choice but to follow behind him.

“I really don’t know how.” You tell him, smile bashful as you watch him carry the golf club, walking towards the direction of the ball. 

“What’s up with that? I’ll teach you,” Mingyu says, putting down the club and unbuttoning his cuff to push his sleeves up to his forearms.

You try not to focus too much on the veins that show up at the action and how his biceps are almost fighting to pop out of his sleeves. His hands look so big compared to yours when he offers it to get you to stand beside him.

“Really? You’re gonna teach me like a big… macho man?” You tease, taking his hand nonetheless.

Mingyu smiles once you’re beside him, placing himself behind you, guiding your hands so you can hold the club together.

You can feel his breath on your neck as he instructs you what to do. “You just have to stand like this,” He lets go of your hands in favour of your hips, and your breath hitches when he whispers, “Look ahead, and you just… let go.”

The golf ball jumps out of the line and you giggle at the way it completely misses the hole.

“That was… wow.” Mingyu says, staring at the ball.

“Shut up! Okay, okay, I’ll try it alone.” You say, dismissing his incredulous look, a bit embarrassed at your performance.

From your periphery, you see Mingyu closely watching you as you grip the golf club a little less tight this time so it’s not too tense when you hit the ball. Squinting your eyes, you eye the goal and let out a controlled breath. You relax your posture just like he taught you and when you finally hit the ball, it lands right in the hole perfectly.

You turn to look at Mingyu immediately with widened eyes, and when he gives you a huge grin, you do a little jump out of excitement.

“Oh my god, I did that!”

Mingyu chuckles at your enthusiasm. And due to the high of hitting the goal once, you agree to another round until it turns into a session.

You only stopped when you got tired. Nonetheless, you realize it’s actually something you’re good at, and that geeks you inside. Meanwhile, Mingyu suggested you walk around the park for a little while.

Mingyu told you he was just going to buy some food at a stall, but as you sit on the bench to wait for him, you think about how you’d like to go with Jungkook here some time to challenge him to mini-golf. You almost always never beat him to any games… surely, he must not know mini-golf, right? You can finally have the upper hand, if ever.

“Ice cream?” Mingyu returns from the stall and extends the cone to you. You try not to show your wince. You’re lactose intolerant.

“Thanks.” You say, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. It’s not that bad, and you want this date to be perfect. Mingyu joins you on the bench.

The night’s cold and you regret not bringing your blazer with you and leaving it in his car instead.

“You know,” you start to strike up a conversation. “I’m still pretty shocked you studied pre-med.”

Mingyu chuckles. “Why?”

“I don’t know… but in hindsight, I should’ve known the moment you asked me about “heart palpitations”.” You say, quoting the last two words, trying to tease him.

“I really thought that was a good idea, huh?”

You snort. “It was–” you gesture with your hand, pursing your lips. “Pretty lame, yeah. But admittedly… it was cute. So, there.”

Mingyu laughs. “Thanks. I also thought that was a brilliant way to flirt with a doctor.”

You shake your head, laughing at him.

Silence sits in the air for a while until he speaks.

“You know what they say? Study law when you don’t know what to do after getting a degree, so law it was.” Mingyu shrugs.

“You didn’t see yourself as a doctor then?” You ask curiously.

“Not really. Didn’t really think too much about it when I chose a pre-med program as my major. Soon realized it wasn’t for me. I was lost in law school too for a good couple of years, though. But I love it now,” Mingyu looks at you who’s intently listening. “You? You always wanted to be a doctor?”

You look ahead, nodding. “For as long as I can remember.”

“Just like Jungkook, huh?” Mingyu chuckles. “He really wanted it a lot. I remember him excelling during those moving tests. He had a lot of people getting jealous over him for balancing his school and basketball lives so well, you know?”

You furrow your brows. “He did basketball?”

“Yeah. We were in the varsity team together.”

“Hah.” You smile. Jungkook. A jock. “That makes sense.”

“That I’m a jock?” Mingyu asks with a teasing smile on his face.

You didn’t mean him, but regardless, you nod, finding that it also applies to him. “You look like someone who plays basketball.”

“And what’s the diagnosis of that, doctor?” Mingyu leans closer.

You nibble on your bottom lip.

“Let’s say you have a… chronic jock face.” You say, not backing down from Mingyu’s sudden challenge of eye contact.

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing. Is that a good thing?”

You chuckle. “It just means that you are conventionally attractive.”

“Ah,” he nods, but you notice his hand making its way around your waist. You don’t make a move to protest it. “Then, can a conventionally attractive guy like me chance a kiss with a pretty girl like you?”

Your breath hitch when he leans his face closer. One more inch and his lips will lock against yours.

“Yeah.”

Mingyu doesn’t waste a second longer and leans in to plant his lips on yours. It’s nothing short of a peck when he breaks away from the contact, but when you look up at him with parted lips, he goes back to kissing you again, cupping your cheek and angling your face towards him better, this time taking you closer by your waist.

It starts off as something experimental, like he’s testing the waters first. But when you take out your tongue to prod the side of his mouth, he does the same and inserts his tongue in yours.

You did not really think that you’d end up making out of some bench at a park, but here you are.

“Oh,” you unintentionally let out a low moan, and you hear a guttural sound coming out from his throat. Your hands come up to fist his collar as some sort of support, and Mingyu responds with a slight pinch to your hip.

You break away from the kiss to regain your breathing, and Mingyu takes that as an opportunity to plant kisses across your cheek down to your jaw. Sighing at the sensation, you close your eyes as you let yourself get drowned in the feeling of his soft lips against your skin.

But when you open your eyes, you see people walking by at a short distance and that’s when you wake up from your trance.

“Mingyu,” You call him, but he’s too busy kissing your neck. “Hey, I think we shouldn’t do this here.”

Mingyu stops. Then, he looks at you, eyes hooded, hair a mess, his lips swollen, some of your lipstick getting on it.

Your blood flows to your cheek at the sight. He looks unbelievably hot. God, what more if he was under you and you were doing more than just kissing and– no, no. Not going there. Absolutely no thoughts of … there.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Mingyu says after seemingly snapping himself out of the trance as well. “Shit. I really am.”

He looks so apologetic, so you put your hand over his arm.

“It’s fine. Just uh… let’s take it slow?” You tell him.

Mingyu gives you a small smile.

“Slow. Yeah. Let’s do it slow.”

What's the definition of slow, anyway?

The tension at the park was too much and you made out some more in his car with heavy petting that may have included Mingyu copping a feel of your boob and you coyishly feeling out the bulge in his pants.

Safe to say, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

You started coming over to his place, but you still haven’t had sex. Not yet at least. You haven’t even taken off your clothes in front of each other yet. Suddenly, you remember being eighteen and just making out with your boyfriend – the territory of any form of sex prohibited for some reason. Somehow, you two have never gotten around that for the past few weeks you’ve hung out. It may be because you always stop it before it happens, but it’s not because you don’t want to; just that it feels like you’re going to a place you won’t know how to go back to.

So, it’s mostly date nights, a sneaky coffee hung during the afternoon when you’re not particularly busy and your schedule aligns, and making out in his car until your pager beeps or when his phone rings.

And as good as Mingyu may be with his lips when he locks them with yours, he’s more than what you thought he was.

You have to admit that you had doubts when you first met him. You don’t trust a lot of good-looking men, because they always end up being assholes. He also has the face of a guy who – in a cliche fashion – likes to break women’s hearts on a regular basis. You went to the first date a little hopeful of something real, but you knew your luck with romance isn’t the best – may be the worst you’ve ever known – but recently, you’re starting to think that maybe the poison’s wearing out and Mingyu may just be… decent.

Decent enough to be a boyfriend. Your boyfriend.

And it feels so weird to think so. You’ve been single for so long, and sure, you went to a lot of dates during the past two years but Mingyu’s going on two months, and everything just seems so… right. Like this can be it.

You hate having wishful thinking. You hate getting your hopes high. But god, he makes it so hard.

“You going with us later?” Nayeon asks, stretching her neck while looking at you.

You’re all currently at some abandoned ward at the hospital where you take quick breaks from your shift to eat or talk for a while.

“Where to?” You ask, taking a bite off Taehyung’s egg sandwich which he gave you earlier.

“We’re going out for barbecue tonight. Jungkook didn’t tell you?” Doyeon says, coming back from her quick trip to the vending machine.

You look at them confused. “No, he didn’t tell me about… barbecue or going out.”

As if on cue, Jungkook arrives in the scene.

“She’s not coming with us,” Jungkook says, and you look at him with visible offense on your expression. “She’s going out with her boyfriend tonight.”

The room quickly becomes rowdy at the declaration, and you flip Taehyung off when you hear him let out a lighthearted “boo”.

“Oh my god,” Nayeon squeals. “Mingyu’s your boyfriend now?” She asks, going over to the bed you’re sitting on, huddling closer to you ready to hear some gossip.

Doyeon looks surprised as well.

You look at Jungkook to give him a death glare. The fucker just puts his hands up in the air.

“No, god– why would you believe him?” You huff out, rolling your eyes. “Mingyu’s not my boyfriend.” Nayeon’s shoulders deflate. “Yet.” You add, and suddenly, she smiles. You take a glance at Doyeon who looks at Jungkook subtly. Or not so subtly, since you saw her. She didn’t seem to notice.

But Jungkook just wears a smug expression as he approaches you closer.

“See?” He shrugs, plopping himself on the same bed beside you. He looks at everybody. “She barely goes home nowadays.”

“Shut up, Jungkook!” You say, continuously hitting him on the arm as he makes little effort to dodge them.

But as usual, your friends love to bully you and join in the teasing.

“So, you joining or what?” Taehyung says after a while.

You actually had plans with Mingyu tonight. Just the usual dinner at his place and some movie and some fooling around, but you remember Jungkook’s teasing and felt the competitive need for him to not be right.

Besides, you don’t want to be the kind of friend who suddenly ditches their friends just because they’re starting to date – and you know that beneath their good-natured chaff is a genuine feeling of sulk because you’ve been admittedly bailing out on all your hangs lately.

It isn’t even that much because you don’t get to hang outside the hospital often – but you usually do go out on Fridays or Saturdays for some barbecue and go to a KTV bar afterwards. It’s sort of like became a tradition at this point, and it dawns on you that you haven’t been present in them for the past few weeks, which makes you feel bad.

“I’m coming with.”

Jungkook immediately eyes you with an arched brow. “For real?”

You challenge him with a look. “Yes, why?”

“I just remember you mentioning you’re going to Mingyu’s tonight.”

“Eh,” you shrug. “I’m just gonna tell him I’m hanging out with you all. No big deal.” You say, believing what you said. Mingyu’s come accustomed to your group of friends and you’re both adults who live separate lives. As far as you know him, he wouldn’t be making a big deal out of you cancelling on a plan. You think he’ll understand. You hope he does.

“Oh my god, don’t!” Nayeon cuts in. “Don’t worry about us. Go date your hot lawyer boyfriend right now. Are you insane?”

You look at her incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

Doyeon looks at you, nodding her head. “Nayeon’s right. If it’s between a date with my boyfriend or having barbecue with Taehyung and Jungkook, I’d rather be with my boyfriend,” She looks at the two guys. “No offense.”

“As if I don’t want to be with my girlfriend either tonight?” Taehyung says in disbelief.

Doyeon rolls her eyes, but she lets out a low chuckle.

“Wait– why are we fighting right now? If __ wants to cancel her date with Mingyu to come with us for barbecue night, then let her be.” Jungkook says.

In the corner, Taehyung crosses his arms and sends a certain look Jungkook’s way.

“Don’t get too excited, Jungkook.”

Jungkook and you pretty much have the same exact reaction at that.

“What the hell does that mean?”

You feel a slight pinch to your arm.

“Aw!” You slap Jungkook’s bicep for what he did. “What the hell!”

“I said it first.”

“You’re a child.” You roll your eyes.

Taehyung raises his hand. “I think you’re both twelve-year-olds trapped in thirty-year-old surgeons’ bodies.”

“Twelve’s too generous, I think they’re mentally still in first grade.” Doyeon comments.

You don’t get to rebut as you see a glimpse of the resident chief coming your way. It seems that the rest noticed the same thing, and suddenly, you’re all scrambling from your comfortable positions on the ER beds and going your separate ways to the hallways.

You went to your go-to-barbecue restaurant as soon as your shift ended for the day.

The eating becomes a drinking session until everybody tapped out but you and Jungkook. More like, you, because Jungkook wasn’t drinking at all. Doyeon was the first one to call herself an Uber, and then Nayeon and Taehyung had to leave because they have an early shift the next day.

“Don’t you have a shift tomorrow?” You ask Jungkook, downing another shot glass of soju. Your alcohol tolerance is not that high nor is it that low, but after two bottles – you admit you’re starting to feel a little dazed.

“Yeah. Afternoon.” Jungkook responds. When he sees you pouring yourself another glass again, he takes the shot and downs it himself.

“Rude!” You pout at him.

“You’re all red and shit, it’s time to tap out.” Jungkook chuckles when you show him an even deeper frown. “Come on, it’s nearing twelve.”

“I’m so tired.” You whine, not even bothering to take your glass back from him, just letting your shoulder deflate and bowing your head down, your eyes becoming droopier by the second.

After four years of residency, you feel like you have started to operate on autopilot somehow. Wake up at fuck-ass o’clock at dawn to prep for work and finish a varying number of hours of shift for the week. You admittedly barely get time to partake in leisure activities – and it’s not new per say. It’s just like in med school except you’re actually doing the real thing now and instead of grades, real lives are involved and at stake – which puts an even bigger weight on your shoulders.

It’s why you’re thankful to Mingyu; for his presence… for starting to invite you to his place rather than eat out. Don’t get it twisted– you love the bougie dinners and all that, but his penthouse is definitely way more comfortable.

But lately you’ve forgotten about what it is like to hang out with your friends outside of the five-minute breaks in the hospital – and times like these you love letting yourself loose and relax because, hey, you deserve it a little!

“Should I buy you soup to drink in the car?” You can hear Jungkook ask. You don’t answer. “Yeah, I should buy you soup.” He tells himself.

And then you see him going to the counter only to come back after a few minutes with a paperbag in his hand.

“You’re drunk.” He announces.

You snicker. “I’m not.”

“You sure are.” Jungkook shakes his head as he takes you by your waist to help you stand up.

“Just feeling a little dizzy, ‘s all.” You mumble when you fall against his neck upon straightening your legs.

“You’re not just a little dizzy, silly.” Jungkook whispers against your head.

You hum as a response and you can feel the vibration on his chest as he laughs at you. He doesn’t say another word as he guides your steps outside of the restaurant, and before you know it, you’re situated in the passenger seat of his car, with him wearing your seatbelt around you.

“Thanks.” You give him a lopsided smile, shifting around in the space to get more comfortable.

“Welcome, your highness.” You giggle at his response. “Drink up, it’s gonna help you sober up.” He says, handing you the paper bowl of soup he bought from the restaurant a few minutes ago.

You groan, taking it from him and slowly sip from the cup. Jungkook tells you to get his water flask from his backpack on the back seat when you finish your soup.

The soup and water relieve you from the acid reflux you feel in your stomach. Only slightly. Because when you close your eyes and lean back on the seat more comfortably, that’s when you feel something in your throat.

“Jungkook,” You call him.

“Hm?”

“I think I want to puke.”

Jungkook immediately turns to look at you. “For real?”

You bite your bottom lip, nodding your head repeatedly.

“Okay, shit– wait,” Jungkook looks around for something. Probably a plastic bag or whatever. But when he finishes scoping the area around the interior of his car, he seems to find nothing. When he glances at the rearview mirror, he takes a reverse and suddenly, he turns off the ignition of his car. “I’ll park here for a while. Let’s go outside.”

He gets out of the car first before opening your door. You think you’re fine to walk on your own, but you don’t oppose to Jungkook wrapping his arm around your waist and leading you to a…

Playground. The swings, in particular.

“Sit here for a bit.” He instructs, holding the chains steady for you as he waits until you’re sitting on it. He runs towards the car, and you feel way too weird in the throat to ask him why.

You recognize the place that’s not exactly far away from your complex. Maybe a ten-minute drive away.

Jungkook comes back with a crumpled plastic bag. It’s from a familiar provision shop. Probably was in his compartment glove the whole time.

“Here,” he hands you the plastic. “I’ll help you.”

You get it from him and shake your head.

“No, it’s fine.”

“I don’t mind.”

You look at him straight in the eye. “You’re not gonna help me puke, Jungkook.”

Jungkook stares at you for a while and then sighs. He holds the chains of your swing again, standing beside you, putting his hand in his pockets.

“Okay. Puke your heart out.”

You snort. You open the plastic bag and get a feel of that weird invasive push in your throat – until you realize Jungkook is watching you.

Looking up at him, you whine, “Jungkook. Don’t watch.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “I’m not watching.”

“It’s gross.” You say, a bit embarrassed. The whole thing’s embarrassing, to be honest. Jungkook taking care of you because you got stupid drunk. It’s not the first time, and there were definitely a lot more occurrences worse than this – you’re just grateful he hasn’t kicked you out of a curb. Yet.

“Watching somebody puke?” He scoffs as he says your name. “We literally amputated a leg today, and FYI, I’m just scared you’re gonna have some serious complication while puking.”

You frown because– okay. Fair. He has valid points.

“Okay. Well. I’m not gonna die puking. So, turn around or stand back there at the slides far from me.”

“Seriously?” Jungkook asks, disbelief painting his voice.

You just nod. Thankfully, he doesn’t say any more and obediently walks about five steps away from you, acquiescing to your request.

It takes you a few minutes to settle yourself before you let out the accumulation of what you’ve digested for the day. Your throat feels crass when you’re done, and your stomach feels empty. When you look ahead, your head still feels like it’s floating. But at least you feel a little better now.

“Drink this,” Jungkook approaches you again and gives you his tumbler once again. You drink from it quickly and quietly. “Feel okay now?”

You hum, nodding and smiling up at him.

“Thanks, Kook.”

He only mirrors your smile and goes to sit on the swing beside you. “You wanna go home now?”

You nibble on your bottom lip, contemplating his question. As you look around, you notice it’s so... solemn. It’s midnight, after all. There’s a sort of eerie calmness with the cricket sounds but the wind is nice and the dark skies project twinkling lights.

“It’s so nice here,” You say instead.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Jungkook chuckles and you follow.

You look at him and sincerely, you ask, “Just for a few minutes, please?”

Jungkook’s quick to say, “Okay.”

His voice is just as gentle as the night breeze.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. You’re sobering up?”

“Eh. I’m getting there.”

“Good.”

You look at him again. “Thank you.”

Jungkook sends you a confused look, but there’s a smile on his face.

“I heard that.”

You chuckle. “And I’m saying it again. Thank you.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Alright. You’re welcome. Times two. And you’re not allowed to say it again.”

You both laugh at the exchange. The silence that follows after that is comfortable.

“You know, you still remember Changsub? My first boyfriend?” Jungkook nods at your words. “He asked me to be his girlfriend at a playground. Some old one in our hometown.” You pause for a while, recalling that memory. You laugh because it was just… so long ago. But the pictures are still so vivid in your head.

“Sweet. Too bad he’s an asshole, huh?” Jungkook comments, having known most of your relationship history.

“Yeah,” You shrug, laughing still. “But I, uhm, I remember a day after that– I had, like, this whole scenario in my head. I pictured a few years down the line, he’s on his knees and he’s showing me a ring asking me to be his wife on the very same playground. I thought it would be really sweet if he proposed to me at the same place.”

“Wow.” Jungkook muses, and you chuckle at the reaction.

“I know. It was crazy. I mean, why the hell was I thinking about getting married at that time? I was literally only sixteen and I think I had an AP assignment due the day after that. I was just so in my head.” You say, looking at Jungkook who has a smile of amusement on his face.

And then your laughter fades.

“I was so naive that time. But then I was also naive at twenty. And Jungkook…” You bite your bottom lip, feeling it quiver when you look into his eyes this time. “I’m afraid that I’m still naive at thirty.”

Jungkook calls your name softly, noticing the drop on your tone and the shift from playful to… melancholic.

You close your eyes and draw a deep breath.

“I like Mingyu. I really like him a lot,” And the declaration feels weird verbally announced. You’ve thought it for the past few weeks you’ve been with him – but you’ve both never said it to each other. Not yet. But saying it out loud now – it feels different. It feels real. And you’re so scared. “And we enjoy each other’s company a lot that I feel like he likes me just as much as I like him. You know, we kissed on the first date. I don’t usually kiss on the first date. But I like him so much that I did.”

You look at Jungkook sadly. You gauge the look on his face, but he just sits there with an unreadable expression on his face, though he listens. He always does. You’re not particularly looking for any response, anyway. And he just seems to know so well that right now, you just want to vent.

“It’s so embarrassing to say but I feel like he’s it, Kook.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “And I feel like… like the last time I felt this way about someone was with Eunwoo. And that was four years ago—” You let your head fall slightly. “And I’m so scared.” You don’t intend the crack in your voice when you say it.

“Hey,” Jungkook calls you again, turning his body towards you, reaching out to hold your arm.

“What if I’m wrong? Again?” You tell him.

It takes Jungkook a few seconds to answer.

“I think, __, that you’re a person with a big heart,” You scoff with a smile on your face at that. You get that a lot. But Jungkook insists, “I think you have so much love to give, you know? And I think… Mingyu’s a lucky guy if he gets to receive it.”

That makes your lips curl. Touched.

“You think so?”

Jungkook only nods.

“Why can’t you be nice to me like this all the time?” You crack a joke.

“I’m always nice to you,” Jungkook says in disbelief, obviously finding your words absurd. You only laugh but now Jungkook turns serious, and you fear you might have induced a genuine worry in him. “Am I not always nice to you?”

“You always tease me and shit in front of our friends but so incredibly sweet when we’re all alone.”

Jungkook stutters when he says, “Well… that’s my love language. Teasing you.”

You squint your eyes at him. “Awe, you love me?”

“Okay, fuck off.”

You burst into laughter when Jungkook rolls his eyes at you.

“Hey, swing me.”

You tell Jungkook, situating yourself more comfortably on the wooden platform attached to the chains.

“A dollar per minute.” He says, standing up from his own seat and placing himself behind you.

“I thought you hate capitalism? What is this?”

“This is forced labor.” Jungkook says with a groan that you think is a feigned exasperation, since you begin to feel movement right after it.

“You broke my hairdryer the other day. Consider this your compensation.” You look up at him to give him a smarmy smile.

Fom where you’re seated, you realize just how… big his presence is. It’s not the looming, ominous type, though – it’s quite the opposite. When Jungkook surrounds you, you find a bit of comfort in it – a huge one if you want to be honest to yourself.

“And I already bought you a new one. We’re even.” Jungkook squints his eyes at you.

You laugh.

“You’re gonna borrow and break it again.”

He visibly winces. “Touché.”

Jungkook swings you while you talk about your day, just like usual. He asks you about your laparoscopy that kept you from having lunch with the rest of your friends at the hospital earlier that day, about your new scrub cap, and you gossip a little about the new lab tech having a crush on the scrub nurse you both know.

For all his complaints earlier, Jungkook seemingly doesn’t seem to mind having swung you for the past ten minutes now. He’s relaxed and gentle with his movements, and his voice is quaint and soft as he talks to you.

But then you start to feel bad for him so you tell him to stop, standing up from the swing.

“Okay, your turn.”

Jungkook gives you a big grin.

“Nice.”

You chuckle at his enthusiasm when he sits on the swing chair this time around. But when you attempt a push, he barely moves, prompting him to laugh.

“What weak ass push was that?” He says incredulously, looking at you.

You jut your bottom lip out. “You’re heavy and I’m drunk.”

The second time you push him is more forceful but then Jungkook voices out a complaint after the third, fourth, and every single time you do it. You roll your eyes at his tantrums, but then suddenly, you think of a much better idea.

You push him off the swing with all your remaining strength even though your body feels like jelly from all the alcohol you consumed an hour ago.

“What the fuck, __?”

You burst out in boisterous laughter at Jungkook’s state, his hands and knees planted on the ground. He then sits on it, clapping his palms together to get rid of some dust that gathered on his skin.

Without thinking too much about it, you make quick steps over to his direction and situate yourself beside him.

Jungkook looks at you, confused, but you only give him a grin.

“Let’s lie on the ground.”

“What? No!” Jungkook immediately opposes it. As you expected.

You scrunch your face. “Oh! Look at me! I’m Jeon Jungkook and I’m a germaphobe and I’m afraid of dirt!” You say, intentionally making your voice a pitch higher.

Jungkook deadpans. “Pathogens can kill your cells’ metabolic machinery, so, yeah? I’m afraid of dirt.”

You roll your eyes at him and while he goes off about how they can also cause a toxic massive immune reaction, you push his chest forcefully which catches him off guard, prompting him to lay on the ground. Before he can say anything, you take his arm out to spread beside you and you use it to rest your head on.

Jungkook stops his rambling after that.

“See, shut up.” You say, backhanding him slightly on the chest. You fix your gaze at the skies.

“The sky is beautiful tonight. Worry about your pathogens next time.”

Jungkook chuckles, and you feel the vibration of his body as he does so, being so close to him.

As you peer up to look at him, you see him folding his other arm to lie his head on it.

You smile, going back to looking at the sky.

“This is like in The Notebook.” Jungkook says after a beat of silence.

“Right?” You grin. “And with the pathogens, too.” You tease.

Jungkook laughs, pinching your arm in his reach. “God, shut up about your pathogens.”

You chuckle at the irony.

“That’s me,” you point upwards, referring to a big twinkling light in the sky. Then, you move your finger towards the star beside it. “And then that’s you, ‘cause I’m a bigger star than you.”

You feel Jungkook look at you from his position. “You are so drunk.”

That causes you to giggle, clutching your stomach because you can’t stop laughing at pretty much everything tonight.

“I feel like I'm not anymore. My head just feels like it’s floating but no, definitely not drunk.”

“Whatever you say.” Jungkook says, chest vibrating from laughing at you.

“Hm. Race you to sleep, Jungkook.” You snuggle on his armpit. As you do, you smell a waft of your water lily springs body wash from Bath and Body Works. “Can you stop using my body wash?”

“What?” You can hear Jungkook say, but as he calls your name and more, his voice starts fading. “__? Hey, don’t sleep on me.”

You hum, eyes still closed.

“__, hey!” Jungkook grazes your arms. You can feel your head moving as Jungkook starts to sit, guiding your back to sit upright. He calls you again, gently tapping your cheek to wake you up.

The truth is, you’re really sleepy, but not so much that you can’t hear him anymore or move on your own.

Jungkook gives up trying to wake you up, though, convinced by your acting. Soon, he goes over in front of you, reaching for your arms and placing them around his neck.

“Just put your legs around me, yeah?” He whispers against your hair once you’re glued against his back.

You hum, intending it to sound like a mumble so Jungkook thinks you don’t actually understand.

Jungkook fixes your legs around him, standing up, bouncing a little to get you nice and snug in his back. You smile at the prospect of a piggyback ride.

“I know you’re awake, silly,” He says suddenly, his voice painted with amusement.

You stifle your laughter against his neck, breaking your supposed to be convincing act.

“Race you to the car, Kook.” you whisper into his ear.

Jungkook scoffs, but he doesn’t say anything more until you reach his car. He wears your seatbelt for you, though, and tells you to drink more water from his tumbler.

You fall asleep easily mid-drive.

In the morning, you wake up with a banging headache, your eyes catching the sight of a post-it note on your desk with one tab of Advil.

morning/afternoon stinky i made porridge before i left for my shift just heat it up again when you wake up ps: your medical bill from my personal care will be discussed later when i get back home. no friends discount allowed — your angelic friend, kookie

You chuckle at the (annoyingly elaborate) sketch of an angry bunny on the side.

“Mingyu,” you call his attention. Mingyu turns to look at you. “This is a really nice place.”

He smiles at your remark. Mingyu moves his hand from your waist to your lower back as he leads you to the entrance door.

“I’m glad you think so. I’ve been wanting to bring you here for a while.”

When you both reach the door, Mingyu introduces himself to the butler. You let the two of them talk for a while, him confirming his reservation, your eyes roaming around the restaurant and taking in the classy interior.

“Please follow me, Mr. Kim and Ms. __,”

The butler gestures inside and you both follow behind him.

It’s another one of your date nights. While it isn’t unusual for you both to get fancy with dinners, you’ve gotten used to the casual dinners you’ve been having at his own place with take-outs and his impressive cooking.

But tonight is a little different. There’s a certain something in the air – especially when Mingyu especially asked you to dress a little more formally. He always has a suit on naturally with his line of work, but tonight he’s wearing a particularly shiny one. The tie is something you’ve never seen before, but maybe you just like to think that. You on the other hand settled for an indigo satin dress that hugs your figure like a glove and shows just enough skin. You’ve always thought you looked good in it.

And you think it’s perfect for when Mingyu asks something that will change the trajectory of your relationship for good.

Today marks the third month since you started seeing each other. You don’t know if he’s aware of it – but it’s been, indeed, whole three months. An monthsary some sort? Granted, there’s no official label to it, at least not yet. But with the fancy set-up and the way he cryptically replied to when you asked him what the whole thing was for tonight, you think he does know. And this is his idea of surprise.

Of course, you don’t let yourself get obsessed with the idea lest you end up with only mere assumptions.

“Thank you.” You both say to the butler as he leads you both to your table. He gives you the menu book and you take your sweet time to choose from the selection, giving the butler your orders after a few minutes.

When he leaves, Mingyu looks at you wearing his usual charming smile.

You don’t think you’ll ever tire of his face.

“This is really fancy,” You tell him, smiling.

“It’s sort of like special place,” Mingyu chuckles. “You know, Mr. Yang– the senior partner over at work– officially announced me as partner here.” He tells you, eyes looking into yours.

You feel your heart do a somersault at his gaze and the possibility of his words.

“Good steak?” You say, trying to act oblivious to the weight of his confession. You also don’t want to assume he’s saying what you think he’s saying…

“Yeah, yeah,” He nods his head, chuckling, then his laughter fades as he begins to look more serious when he continues, “So… it’s been three months since we started seeing each other.”

Your heart skips a bit when you listen to his words. You didn’t think what you were thinking earlier was true, but now that he’s brought it up, you deduce you might not be too far away.

“__,” Mingyu calls. You hum, leaning in closer to let him know you’re listening attentively. He gives you a coy smile, then his hand on the table moves over towards yours. You don’t fight your big smile off when he places it on top of yours, especially when you feel the warmth it radiates and how it looks like it could just easily enclose your own. “You said you wanted to take things slow, and I respect that. I just want you to know that this is – this thing between us – it’s serious for me.”

“I’m serious about us two.” You say immediately.

Mingyu chuckles, simpering when he looks at you again. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“So?” You ask, waiting.

“I want to be your boyfriend. If you let me.” Mingyu says, clear and firm. “It’s just… I’m happy with our dates. And I just love hanging out with you. But I think I’ll be even happier if we go out together as boyfriend and girlfriend – officially – from now on.”

You nibble on your bottom lip; couldn’t contain the big smile you’ve been fighting against since earlier.

You’ve been expecting the question ever since you got here, but you’re quite surprised for your assumptions to be right.

“Okay.” You say coolly.

Mingyu furrows his brow. “Okay– as in…?”

“Okay, as in, I wanna be your girlfriend.”

His lips part. “Are you… for real?” You nod your head repeatedly, stifling a giggle as Mingyu begins to smile so widely. “Fuck.”

“Hey,” you lightheartedly scold.

Mingyu nods his head, still smiling. “I’m sorry, I’m just—” he cuts himself off with a chuckle. “You’re my girlfriend now.”

“Yeah.” You chuckle.

“I wish I can kiss you right now.”

You feel your cheeks heat up as you look around. There are too many people. But the hopeless romantic in you tells you it’s okay.

“Why won’t you?” You challenge him, and Mingyu arches a brow at that.

He looks like he’s giving in, but then he shakes his head. With a smile that borders on flirtatious, he leans closer to you and whispers, “Later.”

Mingyu’s sweet promise at the restaurant ends up with you straddling his lap on the driver’s seat, your dress riding over your thighs and the thin straps falling off your shoulder.

"Fuck," Mingyu breathes in your ear, hands full of your ass while you continue to grind against the bulging crotch of his slacks.

You're not any better, panting on the crook of his neck as he encourages you to move on top of him. You feel the wet kisses he bestows across the column of your neck, moaning at the delicious friction from one particular thrust of his hips.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, in your defense. Your dinner ended on a really good note and Mingyu was just supposed to lean in for one sweet kiss once you were situated in his car.

But then you swiped your tongue over his lips and Mingyu threw away his gentlemanly act for the night, granting you back with a kiss that had more fervor in it. Forceful in a way that says he wants you.

And the feeling’s more than mutual.

His coat’s long gone now, stashed away on his back seat, and you’ve already undone the top three buttons of his dress shirt. Mingyu squeezes your boob over the thin material of your dress, prompting you to let out a low moan.

“Why—” Mingyu cuts himself off to kiss your lips one more time.

“Why don’t we go to your place?”

You don’t register his words the first time, too drunk from the sensation of his touch over your body.

“Yeah?” You mindlessly say, eyes shut as Mingyu peppers kisses to your jaw down to your neck once again.

“You’ve never invited me to your place.”

At that, your eyes open and you still on top of him.

“What?”

Mingyu looks up, and you’re about to be distracted by his messy hair and his swollen lips but then he says, “We’ve never gone to your place before.”

“Oh.”

He’s quick to gauge your reaction. Cupping your jaw, he plants a kiss to the side of your lips. “I’m not insisting if you don’t want to.”

“N-no, I want to,” is your immediate response. “It’s just…” you trail off, thinking about how to approach the subject.

Mingyu hums, waiting for your next words, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. It helps you regulate your nervousness at the sudden mention of your place.

“I have a roommate.”

There you let it out.

Somehow in the past three months you’ve been dating, you never mentioned that you’re living with Jungkook. The subject just never came up – until now, that is – and you didn’t really feel the need to tell him when he never asked in the first place.

But deep inside, you’re a bit hesitant to tell him about it. Sure, Jungkook’s his friend, and Mingyu did say they were close and knew each other well, so it shouldn’t be a problem for him that you’re residing with his close friend – but that’s exactly what makes the whole thing weird. It’s one thing as a woman to live with a man in one place, and it’s another if that man is a friend of your – well, now boyfriend.

And you know to yourself that you and Jungkook are purely platonic so there should be absolutely nothing to be worried about. It’s not even that you don’t trust Mingyu to understand – it’s just that it’s not as easy to tell him straight up. Not when you’re just starting a relationship right now with an official label to it – not when you’re finally in a serious relationship after four whole years of looking and waiting.

You don’t want to ruin it. Not right now.

“Oh, okay.” Mingyu nods at your confession, understanding. “Is it why…?”

You nod your head, already getting what he means. Licking your lips, you look anywhere but his eyes. Instead, you focus your gaze on the exposed upper part of his chest and let your fingers toy with his collar. Mingyu lets you.

“But… roommate’s away for the night.” You tell him. And it’s true. Jungkook told you he has a date tonight and that usually means he won’t be going home.

And you want Mingyu so bad it’s not even funny anymore.

That puts a smile on your boyfriend’s face.

“She is, huh?”

Your heart skips a bit, and you give him a smile you hope he doesn’t recognize as fake.

Somehow, you don’t bother to correct him even though Jungkook – your very roommate – is most definitely not a she.

“And here goes my bedroom,” You say as you open your door, letting Mingyu in. You’re not really worried about its state because thank god you cleaned up before leaving for your date tonight. Jungkook’s the cleaner one though, and that’s an advantage because he’s kind of obsessed with cleaning the whole apartment and not just his room when he has the time. It’s exactly why Mingyu pays you a compliment on the neatness of the place.

“Cute,” he muses, looking at the Sanrio plushies on your nightstand.

“Yeah.” You nod, feeling a little shy. Mingyu’s place is the definition of bachelor – his bedroom’s literally out of an Architectural Digest page. And while you’re proud of your Sanrio plushie collection – they’re your childhood gifts and you’ve collected them until college and they were expensive as hell – you can’t help but think that maybe you’re coming off as childish right now. You wish you could’ve hidden them or something…

You hope Mingyu doesn’t think too much about it.

“I like the room,” Mingyu says, looking at you who’s sitting on the edge of your bed. “It feels very… you.”

“Really?” You chuckle. “I mean, I’d hope so. I’ve been here for two years.”

Mingyu chuckles, following you to the bed. You feel the mattress sinking in when he sits beside you.

“I wanted to give you something at the restaurant earlier, but I kinda chickened out,” He says.

You arch your brow. “What is it?”

You watch as Mingyu takes something out of his pocket, your heart skipping a few beats when it turns out to be a jewelry box. Mingyu looks at you and smiles, hands slowly opening the velvet box, and your lips part when it reveals a dainty silver necklace with a small drop diamond pendant.

“Wow.” You utter, eyes blinking repeatedly, not knowing how to react.

“Well…?” Mingyu says, gauging your reaction.

“You’re giving that to me?” You ask in pure disbelief. He only nods. “That’s really– it’s really pretty.”

“I thought about you when I picked it up. It made sense.” He says smoothly, and you giggle at his words.

God, you like him so much.

“I honestly don’t know what to say,” You chuckle, cupping your face with your hands as if it could make the blood go away from your cheeks. “Thank you.”

“I’d love to wear it on you.” Mingyu smiles.

“Of course.”

He takes out the necklace from the box and asks you to turn around for a bit. You do so, helping him put your hair over one shoulder. You can feel him scooting closer to your back, his breathing on your nape, and the way he slowly caresses your shoulder first before his arms go around your neck to lock the necklace around your nape.

The cold of the material hits your skin, just on time when you feel Mingyu planting a kiss on your clavicle.

“It’s really pretty.” You say in awe, touching the pendant.

“Hm,” Mingyu continues to pepper your skin with small kisses. “You’re beautiful.” You turn to look at him, smiling. He mirrors that and cups your jaw to give you a peck on the lips. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

You giggle when he squeezes your waist.

“Thank you.” you say in between your laughter. You hold his arms and stand up from the bed to place yourself in front of him. Mingyu looks up at you with one brow raised, but he’s quick to manspread when you begin to straddle his lap. As you situate yourself on top of him, you wrap your arms around his neck and let him run his hands across your body when you do so. “I really appreciate the necklace.”

“Yeah?” Mingyu whispers against your lips.

You hum, trailing your fingers down his collar then start to unbutton his shirt. When you get the few undone, you look Mingyu into his eyes and he meets your lips that crash into his in a few seconds.

You suppose it’s not exactly surprising that the kiss turns heated way too quickly. After all, you were both humping each other in his car earlier.

Sighing into the kiss, you tug at his hair, and it prompts his hands to squeeze your ass a little too tight. Mingyu breaks the kiss and there’s a barely noticeable string of saliva when your lips move away from each other. He trails kisses from your jaw down to the base of your neck, taking the straps of your dress down, hands beginning to rub your bare arms.

“So beautiful,” Mingyu sighs, lips travelling back to your own. He prods his tongue in your mouth that you gladly open for him. You let out a moan from the sensation of his tongue against yours, clutching his shoulders so hard you're sure you're gonna imprint your nails on his skin despite the shirt he still has on.

"Mingyu," you whisper, mouth ajar and gaping uselessly against his hair as his mouth leaves yours eventually to go down to your cleavage. His wandering fingers go around your back to fumble with the ribbons that are holding the dress, and you’re quick to help him tug it down completely until your chest is out for his full viewing.

Mingyu hisses at the lack of bra – except the nipple tapes – when the top of the dress comes off. He stops and stares, then takes a long and deep breath, as if the sight of your breasts intoxicated him; sighing as if he's long wished to see you like this.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're so hot." He cups the swell of your chest in his two large palms, fondling them as you continue rolling your pelvis against his straining crotch area. He grazes the silicon material covering your nipples, looks up at you as if to ask.

“Y-yeah,” you sigh out, knowing what he meant with the look.

Taking them off gently, Mingyu earns a moan from you, the sound getting a bit louder when he puts one of the two peaks in his mouth, and the sight is nothing short of erotic.

It elicits a sharp breath from you, hands flying to his soft and brunette locks. You almost feel bad thinking that you've been grabbing at them since earlier.

But you have more important things to mind than attending to Mingyu’s silky and healthy hair.

You seek for his lips which he gives you almost automatically when he notices you asking for it, the two of you meeting in a hungry kiss, your nails on one hand clawing at his back as you cup his jaw in the other. But his hands don't leave your breasts, palming them roughly but just right; squeezing so hard all the while tugging at your nipples.

For a moment, you take a halt, catching your breath and look at him with your hooded eyes. You kiss the corner of his mouth. "Take your shirt off."

He does as you say so, and you help him unbutton the entirety of his dress shirt to get the thing off him faster. Mingyu lets go of your boobs but quickly holds them as soon as his shirt is off. This time he flicks at both your nipples, and you can’t help but bite at his neck. The pleasure’s too much and you can feel yourself dripping down your thong, the sticky feeling of it making you squirm on his lap.

As if Mingyu has read your mind, he grips your waist and sets you down on the bed. He hovers over you, fingers idly exploring under the skirt of your dress until he finds the band of your panties.

You groan when you feel the cold brush of air on your bare thighs, suddenly feeling impatient. "Mingyu,"

“You want me to eat you out?” He whispers, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

You almost cry at his question.

“Yes,”

Mingyu drags his fingers on your clothed core, groaning when he feels how soiled your thong is. "You're so fucking wet, sweetheart. Look at you," he sighs, hands leaving your pussy as he leans back and palms the strain of his pants. Your toes curl at the sight, uneven breaths puffing from your lips. "Look so sweet under me."  

And you're also a mess under him, writhing and completely getting lightheaded from his actions.

You let out a mewl when he pushes up the skirt of your dress to your hips, dragging down your underwear to your thighs.

Lifting your butt off the mattress, you help him get it off of you completely and you don't miss the way the flimsy thong sticks to your pussy before he takes it off you entirely. Mingyu seems to notice as well, judging from the way he hissed under his breath.

Your pussy is slick and sloppy, wet and dripping for him.

"So fucking pretty for me, god, I can’t believe I get to have you like this," he whispers against your throbbing heat, leaving a small kiss on your clit.

You arch your back when he uses his finger to run it through your slit, adding another one to spread your walls. Mingyu groans at the juices that stick to his digits.

As he adjusts himself on the mattress, hands gripping the back of your knees, you push them up until you're bended in almost half. You hold up your own legs, getting whiplashed when he licks a long, firm and deep stripe over you, making your eyes roll from the back of your head, breath hitching as you keep yourself steady in your own hold.

"Oh my god – Mingyu!–"

He starts slow, kissing around your labia, the tip of his tongue teasing your clit. Your head falls from the mountain of pillows under you, suddenly feeling frustrated.

"S-stop teasing me. Please, Mingyu,"

Ending your misery, he spreads your thighs, puckers his lips and dusts a few pecks over your bare heat and dives in for it seconds later with too much fervor. He savors every drop that oozes out from your hole, licking and lapping until you feel his tongue inside you. Mingyu could be spelling out his name for all it matters, but you really couldn't give a fuck.

"Oh, fuuuuck–" you groan, trying so hard to keep yourself steady. "S-so good,"

He hums in your pussy, and you don't help the way one of your legs drop to the mattress, the other one hooking on his shoulder. It makes you grab for his hair, pushing his head down and thrashing underneath his face.

It felt like minutes passed and you're almost crying by how good it all feels, his tongue doing wonders in the walls of your heat.

Soon, tears start to well in your eyes because of the pleasure, drawn out moans and heavy breaths filling the room. You couldn’t care less about the volume. Right now, you just want to cum.

"Your fingers, Mingyu,” You sigh out, and before you could even prepare yourself, he's inserting his middle finger inside you, pushing it in until it's knuckle-deep. "Oh god!"

“Yeah?”

He starts at an average pace until he adds another finger in your entrance, this time picking up his speed – and it makes you drip everywhere.

When he settles on scissoring his fingers inside you, moving at an abnormal pace that have you gasping under him, your body shake and your toes curl on the sheets. Mingyu swoops down to kiss your pussy again, two digits being repeatedly swallowed by your warm hole, slurping every juice that comes out of it. As he feels you tremble, the precedence of you nearing your climax, he takes his thumb to your clit.

"Oh, fuck, fuck," your pant, "I'm coming–fuck–“

Mingyu removes his fingers from you, exchanging them with his tongue instead and you cry out while he continues to rub your clit vigorously.

And when you arch your back higher this time, you spasm around his fingers, moaning uncontrollably.

“That’s it, sweetheart, that’s it,” Mingyu whispers, pecking your heat a few more times to calm you down from your high. After a few moments, he removes your thigh from his shoulder, quickly coming up to kiss you on the mouth.

You taste yourself on his tongue but you couldn’t pay much attention to it when you feel his dick against your thigh. Closing your eyes, you let exhaustion wash over you.

Mingyu lets you stay still, and when you open your eyes again, you see him staring at you with a warm smile dancing across his lips. Your heart skips a beat, could no longer feel it but hear it instead, and you bite your lip, pushing his chest away slightly in an attempt to get on top of him.

“Let me suck your cock.” You say, but Mingyu shakes his head, firm on his place: on top of you.

“Let’s do that next time. Tonight, I have to fuck you well into the next day.”

And he does.

You didn't cum again – you usually don't from penetrative sex – and your first orgasm exhausted you way too much to let yourself go the second time. Mingyu didn't mind, telling you it was fine when you gave him an apology about it.

You wake up panicking at the thought that you’re going to be late for work.

Scrambling to sit on your bed, you take your alarm clock in your hands, letting out a dramatic “Thank god” when you see it read as 5:06am. Your alarm goes off at 5:30 as your weekday shift starts at seven.

Which means it’s still early. And you’re not going to be late for work like you feared.

You remember last night’s events though, and your eyes quickly go over to the other side of your bed.

Mingyu’s not in it – but it feels warm. An indication of the fact that he stayed the night over after what you did. You also deduced that he must’ve only gotten out a few minutes before you woke up.

Thinking he’s outside your room, you begin to stand up – groaning the way your thighs ache a bit as you do so. You’re only dressed in your panties and camisole, and you thought about going out in them – but then it made you feel a little weird. Okay, sure, Mingyu’s already seen everything there is to see – you had sex last night – but being naked in a non-sexual fashion in front of someone is kind of a little different, so you opt on putting on a pair of short shorts.

As you head towards your door, fingers ready to twist the knob, you’re surprised to see Mingyu meeting you halfway.

“Hey—”

“Why the hell is Jungkook here?”

Your smile drops and you look at him in confusion.

Mingyu wears an expression you’ve never seen him in before. He’s pissed. Eyebrows furrowed, gaze not soft like it usually is when it comes to you, and above all… his tone borders on accusatory.

“Why is he in the living room saying he’s your roommate?” Mingyu asks once again when you don’t say anything.

“I—” but you’re rendered speechless, frozen in your position. Your mouth moves but nothing comes out. Your brain is a jumble of thoughts and all you can think about is Mingyu seemingly getting mad at you.

“__?” A voice that’s absolutely familiar speaks up. You hear Jungkook’s steps getting closer to your door when he finally shows himself to you. “What’s Mingyu doing here? And why doesn’t he know we live together?”

Mingyu forces himself inside your bedroom and bumps into you a bit as he faces you with a venomous tone. “I’m going.” He declares, grabbing his shirt from your desk chair and putting on his belt.

“Mingyu, it’s not—”

“Save it, __.” He cuts you off before you can finish your sentence, hastily buttoning up his dress shirt.

Jungkook frowns and butts in. “Mingyu, let her talk. I told you earlier, we’re roommates—”

“Jeon,” You turn to look at him, almost spitting out his name. “Not now.”

You see Jungkook visibly recoiling at that. But you’re too concerned over Mingyu already on his way out the door, ready to leave.

“Mingyu, just hear me out.” You say, looking at him sincerely.

“I don’t wanna hear it. Not right now.” Mingyu tells you with a cold look paired with a cold tone. You deflate, taken aback at how nothing on his face screams like he cares about you. He glances at his watch. “I have to go to work.”

He heads towards your apartment door and you follow him there, hoping to change his mind about hearing you out.

“I know what you’re thinking right now, and it’s not that, Gyu.” You tell him once again, following him outside your unit.

Mingyu stands there for a while. Then, he sighs, putting his thumb over his temple. He heaves out a breath, looking into your eyes as he says, “I just don’t want to talk about it right now, okay? Let’s just… let things cool down for a bit.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “How do you mean?”

“I’m flying to Chicago this afternoon but I’ll be back in the evening. I’ll call you later after work.” He says, and now his face doesn’t look so devoid of emotions like how it was earlier.

But you worry about his words.

“You’re flying to another state.” You reiterate, just so you know you heard him right.

“It’s just for a few hours, sweetheart,” The petname soothes you a little but then he continues to add, “Look, I’m not sure of how I feel about… Jungkook being your roommate. You didn’t tell me about it– just imagine my surprise when I saw him after I went out of your room. It’s not a nice feeling to get lied to,” He says, and you feel an arrow shooting straight to your heart at that. You blink your eyes, feeling like there are tears forming on the sides. Mingyu seems to notice that as he steps closer to you and rubs your arm. “We’ll talk later, __. Just not now. Give me time to process this.”

You give him a weak smile.

Mingyu cups your cheek, and you lean towards his touch. Rubbing a thumb over your skin, he leans down to kiss your lips.

When he breaks away after a quick moment, he tells you, “Later, hm? I promise.” You nod. Mingyu gives you a smile. “And thank you for last night.”

That erases your worry. Not all, but some of it.

“Thank you too.”

“Alright, I’m going, okay?” Mingyu lets go of your face and you look at him as he turns around after you bid your goodbye.

You watch his retreating back in the hallway from your position, nibbling on your bottom lip trying to process the turn of events – and it’s only five fucking am still.

When you enter your apartment again, you see Jungkook sitting on the couch of your living room. And he looks just as pissed when your gaze falls to him.

“What the hell was that?” He welcomes you with.

“What the hell is this?” You point back at him. “You told me you weren’t coming home.”

“Yeah, but I have work – which we both go to at the same time, by the way. Apparently, you’re bringing boys now to this goddamn place.”

You do a double take at his tone.

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” You say, voicing starting to pick up volume. You feel irritation bubbling up inside you as Jungkook stands up from the couch and turns his back to you, ignoring your question as he heads to the direction of the kitchen.

“I said we’re both gonna be late for work.”

You follow his steps. “No, you said I’m “bringing boys here”, what do you mean by that?” You grab his arm and that’s effective enough to make him turn around and look at you. But he avoids eye contact. “Don’t turn your back to me when I’m talking to you, Jungkook.”

“I’m so sorry then, I’ll make sure to look into your eyes when I say every word that comes out of my mouth from now on.” He sarcastically says, and your annoyance grows.

“Watch your goddamn tone.”

Jungkook scoffs. “You’re the one to talk about watching tones when you literally just told me to shut up in front of your boyfriend?”

Your frown instantly. So you were right to think that moved him a little. But you tell him your confusion, “Where the hell did you get that? I didn’t tell you to shut up.”

“Yeah, you just told me “not now” like I’m a child trying to insert himself in mommy and daddy’s little argument. You might as well just have told me to shut the fuck up.”

The way he phrased your argument with Mingyu “little” rubs you off the wrong way.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” you sarcastically say. “Did getting told to shut up by a woman in front of another man hurt your big macho man ego?” 

“You’re making it about another thing.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, opening the refrigerator and taking out a loaf of bread.

“You think I forgot about your little “bringing boys here” comment?” You point out, but Jungkook decides now is the time to be an asshole and starts acting nonchalant instead, putting jam all over his bread. But you see the tick in his jaw, the tongue prodding against his mouth. He’s just as pissed as you are right now.

“And you sure as hell did. I don’t know what to tell you.”

You seethe. “Fuck you. I don’t bring “boys” here. Mingyu’s my boyfriend,” You say, and to be petty, you add, “As if you’ve never ever brought girls here before?”

Jungkook looks at you instantly. “Don’t you dare pin that on me. That was in the very first week that we lived together, mind you. But you told me how uncomfortable it made you feel and I thought about boundaries since then and never did it again. Why do you think I come over at their place instead of just hanging out here, huh, __? Even when we didn’t verbally agree on not having sex around this place, I thought it would be a goddamn principle. Heck,” He looks somewhere and scoffs, “Mingyu didn’t even know I’m your roommate. What did you tell him?”

You open your mouth to make a rebuttal, but nothing comes.

Because you realize in the middle of his outburst that… he’s right.

The first time that you saw a woman coming out of his own room and Jungkook noticing your discomfort about it, he just stopped doing his… thing in the apartment. It wasn’t a verbal agreement, as per his words, but he’s right. It should have been a principle.

In the past two years you lived with each other – that was the only time he ever did it. It became an unspoken rule: don’t bring your hook-ups here. But you never really had to worry about that unspoken rule because you didn’t do one-night-stands often, and when you did hook up with people over the past two years, it was rare so it was easy to do it in their place.

It has become a norm for you that you don’t see other people here anymore except for your friends when they invite themselves over – but you aren’t aware that Jungkook’s apparently making an active choice to specifically not hook up in here this whole time.

Coupled with the fact that you didn’t tell Mingyu about him being your roommate and him being caught up with your argument earlier – you feel a sense of guilt. A huge one at that.

But the stubborn part in you thinks that Mingyu’s different. He’s not a mere hook-up. He’s your boyfriend now! Couldn’t that be an exemption to the rule that’s unspoken in the first place?

“I…” you trail off, scolding yourself internally for not forming a coherent thought faster than you’d like.

When you don’t follow it up with anything, Jungkook takes his plate with him, turning on his heels away from you.

“See you at work.” He says, but it’s sarcastic and clipped.

Jungkook leaves one piece of bread for you though – just like he always does. And you take that as a sign that he’s not all that mad at you.

… Maybe?

You stand there in the middle of your kitchen island like some stupid stoned individual, going over the things that happened for the past – what – twenty minutes? You don’t even fucking know. Your wall clock in the living room had run out of battery, and your brain is too occupied with messy thoughts scattered all around you can feel a headache coming.

One thing’s for sure, though: you’re in the wrong. With Mingyu and with Jungkook. And you need to make it right somehow.

PART TWO | PART THREE

all right reserved © awrkive, 2024. no reposts, modification, and copying allowed. if you enjoy my work and have the extra means, please consider supporting me on ko-fi <3

[eroselless]

─────────────── somebody else // 2

series summary: you just work in hospitality for McLaren and he’s their star driver. what happens when your paths cross and you find yourself questioning your feelings for each other? [3.8k]

[lando norris x reader]

masterlist | previously

warnings:  language, suggestive content, drunk almost hookup, slightly possessive lando

note: ehm, I absolutely did not mean for it to get that long, my bad guys. I’m trying to update a little faster and write in bigger chunks. I have a trip coming up soon and I’m not sure I’ll be able to update as fast and regularly as I’d like to. But as always, happy reading!

In the days that follow, you find yourself pulling back even more. You stack your walls up even higher as you try to keep that feeling of uncertainty away. You hyper focused on your work, trying to maintain a professional facade but each day that came and went it became harder than ever. Lando was still there, still kind and attentive but he could tell. Your heart was miles away, under lockdown and under constant supervision. He could see it in your eyes, how they would be distant and vacant at times, a haze coming over them whenever he came around. The easy banter had shifted, replaced by a tension that neither of you would acknowledge but could cut with a knife.

One afternoon, after a particularly busy day at the track, you found yourself alone in the hospitality area once again, cleaning up after the last guests had left. You were lost in your thoughts, replaying the events of the last few days and seeing the same image of Lando’s eyes, pooling with emotion as he watched you under the darkening sky. 

“Still here?” Lando’s voice is light, but there is an edge to it that catches your attention. It pulls you from the neverending cycle in your head. 

You turn to see him leaning against the doorframe, eyes fixed on you. He’s still wearing his race suit, it hangs low on his waist, orange contrasting with the black of his fireproofs. There was an air to him tonight, maybe it was the glossiness of his eyes, the five o'clock shadow beginning to form on his face or maybe something else entirely—it makes your pulse quicken. 

“Just finishing up,” you reply, trying to keep your tone casual.

He walks over to you, gaze never leaving you. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

It wasn’t a question. It lingers in the air, thick with the weight of unspoken emotions. It makes you freeze in your spot, a dirty rag trapped in your fingers. His eyes search you for an answer, one you weren’t ready to give. Your heart pounds in your chest, the tensions building to almost unbearable. 

“I haven’t—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“Yes, you have,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “And I want to know why.”

You swallow hard, searching for the right words. “I haven’t been avoiding you,” you repeat quickly, the lie slipping from your lips before you can fully think it through. You force a smile, trying to keep your voice from shaking. “I’ve just been really busy with work, that’s all.”

He studies you, eyes narrowing slightly as if he could see right through you. “Busy with work?” he echoes, skepticism lacing his tone.

“Yeah,” you nod, looking anywhere but at him. “You know how it is, especially with the season in full swing. There’s always so much to do, and I didn’t want to get distracted.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything just watching you as you stand there. Distracted. It had been a word you had said to him before, a word he was seemingly starting to hate after hearing you say it a second time. Your heart could burst from your chest as he continues to look at you with a piercing gaze. Your mind scrambles to come up with something—anything-–that would make your excuse believable. But under the weight of his stare, any lie you thought of felt flimsy, crumbling the second you even considered saying it out loud. 

“Right,” He says slowly. You could tell he wasn’t convinced but were grateful when he didn’t press any further nodding at you he spoke again. ​​“I get it. It’s a hectic time for everyone.”

You mimic his actions, trying to keep your expression neutral, even as your stomach twists with guilt. You hated that you were lying to him, hated the way it made your chest feel like it was caving in and most of all hated how the wall you were building up to keepsafe your feelings was now coming between you. But what else could you do? Admitting the truth—admitting your feelings, that you didn’t trust them— felt too risky, too raw. 

Lando sighs softly, running a hand through his damp hair. “I just…missed talking to you, that’s all. You just felt distant, and I didn’t know why.”

Your chest tightens at the shakiness of his voice, the way he sounded, the devastation squeezed at your heart. You wanted so badly to tell him you missed him too, that the distance you had put between the two of you was excruciatingly painful but the words caught in your throat. 

You round the table, moving towards him. You drop the rag onto the table as you get closer. “I’m sorry,” you say, the apology sounds hollow even to your own ears. You reach over his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. It's not the first time you’ve hugged. Well, it's the first time you hugged him. You usually found yourself trapped in his embrace, head pressed briefly against his chest. You ignore how his fireproofs are slightly damp and how he slumps into you. He gives in to your touch, his own heartbeat echoing in his ears.  “It’s okay,” he says quietly. “I just wanted to make sure everything was…you know, okay between us.”

“Of course,” you reply a little too quickly. You ignore the butterflies that bother your stomach, between us. “Everything’s fine, I promise.”

Lando nods, pulling out of your arms. He seemed to accept your words though he knew there was something else going on. There was a small wave of relief wash over you, not asking any more questions. There's guilt swirling in your stomach as he bids you goodbye, leaving you to yourself once again. 

:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

As time passes, your routine settles back into its regular pace. You still find yourself emotionally distant from him, just more aware of your actions. You reassure him sweetly every day that you’re ok, coming up with more excuses. I’m just a little tired, today was super busy. You make sure not to muddle the mood, keeping up a facade whenever you need to. 

A few weekends later, after another high-intensity race, he approaches you with an invitation. “Hey, a few of us are going out later. It’s going to be a bit of a party—want to join?” His eyes are wide, the adrenaline from the race still high in his bloodstream. 

You hesitate for a moment, considering all possibilities. The allure of a night out, the chance to let loose and the opportunity to see Lando in a different setting makes it harder for you to decline. “Sure, I’d love to,” you accept, nerves pouring out again. With a quiet squeal you’ve heard from him before, he bids you goodbye, letting you know that he’ll text you all the information. He quickly presses a kiss to your head, which leaves you reeling, before running out and leaving you to finish. 

You can feel the base of the song in your chest as you step into the club, the heavy beat reverberating through the floor and up into your bones. The lights pulse and swirl around you in shades of blue, purple and red. They cast shadows over the crowd of people moving rhythmically to the music. You find yourself alone, surrounded by strangers, their laughter and chatter blending into the music, creating a vibrant but overwhelming atmosphere. Pushing through the sea of bodies, you navigate your way across the club, your eyes scanning the room for a familiar face. Anxiety prickles at the back of your neck, and you pull out your phone, nervously checking to see if you’ve missed any messages from Lando. But the screen is empty, and you feel a pang of unease. The crowd presses in around you, and for a moment, you’re unsure of where to go or what to do.

Scanning the room over once again, you finally spot him. Lando is standing on a step near the back, surrounded by a group of drivers and their girlfriends. He’s got one arm looped around Max’s neck, the two of them bouncing to the beat of the music, lost in the energy of the moment. The sight of him makes your heart skip. 

Lando spots you almost immediately, his eyes lighting up as he waves you down with his free arm, a grin spreading across his face. Max rolls his eyes good-naturedly at Lando’s enthusiasm, giving him a playful shove as Lando nearly topples over in his haste to reach you.

Before you can react, his arms are around your shoulders, pulling you tight against his chest. The scent of Christian Dior mixed with tequila hits you, a surprisingly intoxicating combination that makes your head spin a little. His navy blue button-up clings to his frame, the top few buttons undone to reveal a hint of his tanned chest. The chains around his neck clink softly against your own as he holds you close, his embrace warm and firm. “I missed you,” he murmurs into your ear, his voice thick with the effects of the alcohol.

You let out a shy giggle, your heart fluttering despite your efforts to keep your emotions in check. “You saw me a couple of hours ago,” you mumble into the fabric of his shirt, the words barely audible over the music.

He shakes his head, pressing his lips closer to your ear. “It hasn’t been soon enough,” he insists, his breath warm against your skin.

The sentiment makes your heart skip, and you have to bite down on your cheek to keep from smiling too widely. The weight of his words, the sincerity in his voice, tugs at something deep inside you. Before you can say anything else, he pulls back slightly, his hand slipping down to take yours.

 “Come on, let’s get you a drink,” Lando says, guiding you through the crowd towards the bar. He insists on covering your drinks for the night, his generosity both endearing and dangerous. The alcohol flows freely, and soon enough, you can feel your earlier resolve melting away. The tension that had been knotting your stomach eases as the alcohol loosens your limbs and your thoughts, making everything feel a little less serious, a little more carefree.

After a few drinks, you find yourself swaying to the music, your body moving instinctively to the beat. Alexandra and Lily are close by, the three of you forming a small circle as you dance together, shouting the lyrics to the songs that blast from the speakers. There’s a joyous energy between you, a shared camaraderie that makes the night feel lighter, more fun. You’d built a rapport with them over the last few races, their curious faces eager to meet the girl that had Lando disappearing before and after every race day. 

A familiar song comes on, and you lock eyes with Alex, both of you squealing in delight. You move behind her, your hands on her hips as the two of you bounce together, laughing and singing at the top of your lungs. The music is loud, the bass heavy, and you lose yourself in the moment, your bodies moving in perfect sync with the rhythm.

Across the room, Lando watches you, his gaze fixed on the way your dress clings to your curves. The orange fabric, vibrant and bold, catches his eye, and a slow smile spreads across his face as he takes notice of the fabric of the dress. Papaya orange. There’s something about seeing you in that particular shade—his color—that makes his chest tighten with a strange sense of pride and possessiveness.

His eyes trail down your body, watching the way you roll your hips in time with the beat, the smooth, sensual movements captivating him. He can’t tear his gaze away, mesmerized by the way you move, so free and confident. The sight of you, so different from the professional, composed version he usually sees, makes his heart race.

Lando finally pushes through the crowd, making his way back to you, his movements slightly unsteady as he navigates through the crowd. When he reaches you, he drunkenly sends Alexandra a nod and a wink, pulling you away from her. His hands find your waist, pulling you close as you continue to sway to the music. His touch is firm, but there’s a gentleness to it that makes your breath catch in your throat.

The ghost of his lips brushing the shell of your ear sends a shiver down your spine. The soft whisper of your name ignites a heat deep in your stomach. His touch is familiar, yet it feels entirely different from anything you’ve experienced before. His chest is pressed against your back, both of you covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and your mind begins to wander to places you’ve been trying to avoid for months. Images of the two of you flash through your mind—intense, unrestrained, his hands gripping your hips as his lips explore every inch of your skin. 

A voice in the back of your head urges you to stop, but the alcohol blurs its edges, and you find yourself leaning further into him. His hands slide up your body, fingers curling over your ribs, a possessive touch that cradles the underside of your breasts, drawing a soft laugh from his lips. He presses his nose to your shoulder, inhaling the scent of your perfume. It’s addictive, intoxicating, driving him wild.

He lowers his head, his lips tracing a slow path over the racing pulse in your neck. He pauses just below your ear, murmuring into your hair, “You know you’re driving me crazy right now, don’t you?”

A hum escapes your lips before you reply, “I had no idea.” The words are tinged with a bitter truth, your usual restraint slipping under the influence of the alcohol. His lips resume their slow, deliberate assault on your throat, even as you continue to sway to the beat. You move your hips in time with the music, grinding into him, and he lets out a low, guttural sound, biting his lip as a wave of heat surges through him.

His hands slide lower, settling on the crease where your legs meet your hips. He tries to guide your movements, pulling you closer, but you push back, teasing him. His head begins to spin, the alcohol, the sweat, the heat, and most of all, you, overwhelming his senses. He presses his forehead against your shoulder, struggling to keep his thoughts in check. 

A breathy gasp escapes you as his fingers dig into your skin. You can feel him stir, the hard press of his arousal against your back. He pushes your hips away slightly, only to pull you back firmly, the back-and-forth sending your head spinning. Whether it’s the thought of him enjoying the teasing closeness, the drinks, or a mix of both, it only fuels the need burning between your legs.

His breath is hot against your skin as he starts to murmur directly into your ear. The noise of the club fades away, the music and the crowd dissolving until only his voice and his body remain. The heat radiating from him seeps into you, making you cling to him as the tension builds.

After a few more songs, the tension reaches a boiling point. Lando’s voice is low and rough as he whispers, “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

You nod, letting him take your hand as he leads you through the crowd, weaving between the dancing bodies until you reach the hallway leading to the restrooms. The space is dimly lit, the music muffled, creating an intimate atmosphere that only heightens the tension between you. Your heart races as he closes the restroom door behind you, sealing the two of you in a moment that’s been building all night.

The air in the small restroom is thick with tension as he stays by the door for a second. He pants with his back towards you as if he’s thinking it over in a brief moment of soberness. The muffled bass of the club still pulses through the walls but here, it's just the two of you. His eyes are darkened by desire as he scans your face for a sign, a permission to cross this line that you’ve been dancing around for months. 

He steps closer, his body heat enveloping you and you can feel the alcohol fueled courage roll back into him in waves. You’re both silent, the only real sound being the shallow breaths you’re taking as he slowly raises his hand to cup your cheek.

You hold in a breath as his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, eyes following how it softly snaps back before locking onto yours. 

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he whispers, his voice raspy, almost desperate. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes fluttering shut. His breath comes out in pants, mixing with yours. With a small tilt of your head, your lips meet his. One hand comes to wrap delicately around the back of your neck, the other encapsulates your waist, flushing your body to his. The kiss is a release of all the tension that’s been simmering between you, a collision of emotions too long suppressed. It's deep, intimate, charged with so much as his tongue explores the cavern of your mouth. He pushes you up against the sink, trying to get you as close to him as possible, the world outside forgotten. Your hands travel across his chest, fingers tangling in the chains that rest there. 

He drinks you in, sucking the air out of you as he cradles your face. Pulling away, he lowers his head to your exposed shoulder, tugging the thin strap of your dress to your bicep. He kisses the skin tenderly, muttering into your skin something you don't quite catch. You trace your fingers up the side of his face, head rolling to the side as he sucks sharply at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. 

He slots a leg between yours, pulling one of your legs up to wrap around his waist. You’re almost wide open for him as he rolls his hips against you. You let out a weak whimper as the shape of his cock brushes right where you needed him. You buck your hips up, chasing the mouth watering feeling once again. Just as his hands slide over your bum, fingers searching for the seam of your dress, there’s a sharp knock on the door that has you jumping. 

When you don’t move from your spot, there’s another blasted knock on the bathroom door paired with the annoyed call of Max. Lando allows your leg to drop, his forehead resting against yours as he lets out a frustrated groan. The reality of the situation starts to seep back in, and you can’t help but let out a nervous laugh, the absurdity of it all hitting you at once. He sighs, pulling you into a tight hug, as if he’s reluctant to let go just yet.

“We’re coming, geez.” Lando calls out, his voice still tinged with the lingering effects of alcohol. 

When he finally releases you, there’s a look of disappointment mixed with something deeper in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes your hand and leads you back out into the now nearly-empty club. Max gives you both a knowing look, his eyebrows raised, but he doesn’t say a word as Lando signals for another round of drinks.

As the night wears on, Lando continues drinking, and while you’ve switched to water, you stay by his side, watching as his playful demeanor shifts into something more subdued. He’s not the loud, rowdy drunk you’d seen over the last few hours; instead, he becomes quieter, his words slurred but gentle, his touch lingering but not overbearing. In your mind, his sudden change only confirms what you had been hearing in the back of your head all along.

“I don’t want to go home yet,” he mumbles when the night comes to a close. He hangs around your shoulders, head lolling slightly as he turns his head to get a better look at you. “Come with me? Just to hang out?”

You hesitate, knowing you should probably just call it a night, but the soft, almost pleading look in his eyes makes it impossible to say no. “Okay,” you agree quietly. “But just for a bit to make sure you get home in one piece.”

The ride back to his apartment is a blur of neon lights and the quiet hum of the city at night. Lando leans against you in the backseat, his head resting on your shoulder as he mutters something incoherent. He fiddles with your fingers, playing with your rings. It's almost as if he’s trying to commit to memory the way your hands feel in his. It's as if he knows that by morning light, everything will be gone and it'll be like a dream you can't fully remember.

By the time you arrive, he’s half-asleep, and it takes some effort to get him out of the car and up to his apartment. Once inside, you help him to his room, guiding him onto the bed as he flops down with a tired groan. He’s still wearing his clothes, and as you pull his shoes off, he watches you with half-lidded eyes, a lazy smile on his lips.

“You’re so good to me,” he giggles, reaching out to grab your hand. “Stay, please? Just... stay.”

You sigh softly, knowing he won’t remember much of this in the morning, but the tenderness in his voice tugs at your heart. “Alright,” you surrender, sitting on the edge of the bed. “But you need to sleep, okay?”

He nods fervently, already drifting off as he mumbles something about how nice it is to have you here. He continues, his words slurring slightly as he tells you what drawer to reach into for a shirt to sleep in before rolling over to wrap his arms around his pillow. You pull the covers over him, watching as his breathing evens out, his face softening in sleep. You change into an old t-shirt of his and slip into the bed beside him, careful not to get too close. Despite the circumstances, there’s something comforting about being here, about being the one to look after him when he needs it. The sobering voice in your head returns, but you blur it out as it slowly lulls you to sleep.

tags: @sltwins @sarx164 @f1fantasys

[cindol]

thinks about the thought of fiancé!nanami and fem reader

౨ৎ .ᐟ .ᐣ — blurb hcs(kind of ), fluff, suggestive,

a / n — trying out a new style of gradient so let’s just pretend this post is a test run lol

fiancé!nanami wants everything perfect for his future wife. He doesn’t care how crazy or illogical, this is your wedding he’s planning and a special day for both you and him.

fiancé!nanami doesn’t mind who gets invited to his wedding. Usually he would groan at gojo satoru being invited to things organized by him but when you give him a sympathetic look fluttering your lashes.

“I’m sure satoru’s adult enough now to get invited to a wedding baby, I sent an invitation to suguru and shoko so they’ll keep him in check.”

he sighs then looks at you and the empty letter you were gonna write to satoru. With anybody else he would say no, but you’re his woman, his childhood sweetheart.

“only for you, but I feel like just a e-mail would do instead of us doing a thousand letters to our friends baby.”

“I like the effect kento! Makes me feel old school.”

fiancé!nanami knows what his wife likes and has the florist pick only the best orchid’s and peony’s for the venue.

fiancé!nanami has a hard not peaking at your dress fitting so he stays home but always wants updates.

“kento baby, I can’t get you every detail on my dress fitting now! The tailor’s still trying to get measurements.”

“I know I know darling I just want to check up.” that’s such an excuse but it slips off his tongue naturally.

you hum into the phone tapping your nail till you answer.“tell ya what, I’ll give you a detailed description on what my groom will be expecting to see on the big day.”

“wow me.”

“satin dress, goes all the way down to my legs but hugs my curves just right.”

that description was enough for him to pause in the middle of his own sentence.

fiancé!nanami once he sees the dress at the wedding when you’re coming down the aisle with his grandfather leading you down his stotic strong straight face nearly cracks seeing you all glammed up in that long mermaid wedding dress makes him sweat. Not from nervousness but from the fact he may be getting hot seeing your body stick out the way it did in that satin white dress.

once you both kiss and say the vows you’ve promised to one another immediately wants to rush to the honeymoon and skip reception. Seeing even your backside while you’re talking shoko’s ear off while waving you hand to show her the ring on your finger got him flustered. Immediately he was grabbing your hand before you got the chance to excuse yourself from shoko.

Near a lonely wall he was giving you neck kisses making you giggle and stop him for a moment to talk.“I see somebody wanted more kisses but don’t you wanna wait baby? loads of food and I know haibara is gonna wanna talk your ear off.”

nanami didn’t wanna be rude. This was the day you waited but all he could think on is wanting to rip that dress off of you in a hotel room. Scratching the back of his head and rubbing his neck he tsked, would he wait all the time for the reception to be over or skip to the night with his beloved?

he’d rather skip.

“I mean this so much respect sweetheart, but seeing you this beautiful in your gown makes me just wanna jump ship and go to the honeymoon already.” his eyes scoped you from down to up looking at your bust to how the dress flowered down to your legs.

that already got you biting your lip. Seeing nanami in this flustered state while touching at his hair made you wanna immediately follow after him.

“You think the others will mind or care seeing me disappear off?”

“If you tell satoru he won’t give a damn, just make a slick cocky comment and make some excuse to the others.” Nanami wasnt fond on gojo but he knew how he thinks. is

fiancé!nanami is gentle with you on the honeymoon night. As thirsty as he was to just get to that hotel room with you that he specifically got the hotel to set up with champagne and rose petals he couldn’t care less about them.

Taking each arrival of clothing off of you was what he took great care of. Slowly he lifted your bridal veil showing your pretty face, eyelashes batting at him and lips all pouty. His thumb swiped near you lip making you pout.

“You’ll mess up my lipstick kento!”

“It won’t be here for long darling, I can promise that.”

fiancé!nanami treats your body like a work of art to be appreciated on this honeymoon night.He first started by neck kisses just to get you hot and bothered with more kisses in the middle of your cleavage also till you just explode.

“Just do me already kento!” saying it in a immature way but he knew exactly what you meant.

fiancé!nanami that night nanami kento made you happy a bride.

[cressidagrey]

Lightning in a Bottle - Chapter 6

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was actually pretty much useless. The only thing she wanted was to be somebody's first choice for once in her life.

Also known as: Azriel's shadows decide that if he doesn't treat his mate right... they'll just do it for him.

Warnings: 

ANGST, Elain bashing, Visions of the future, also probably no update tomorrow

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

“It will be fine,” Cassian told him. 

Again. Cassian had already told him that multiple times. 

He had washed his mate’s blood from his hands…from underneath his fingernails. Eira’s blood. All over his hands. Literally and figuratively.

“Azriel,” Cassian said quietly, once again, trying to get him to give him something. “She’ll be fine. Madja is the best at what she does. She managed to save my wings. That poisoned knife was probably nothing more than a nuisance for Madja.”

A nuisance? The shadows hissed sharply. Our mate took a poisoned knife between her ribs nearly to her heart! And he says it’s just a nuisance?!

“I should have taken that knife,” Azriel whispered. 

He should have taken that knife. Him. 

Not her. Not Eira. Not…

“Azriel,” Cassian said quietly. 

“I should be the one,“ he insisted. “It’s my fault.” If he had just told her the day before. If he had just been there…if they had pushed that meeting at the Court of Nightmares…maybe if…

“How is this possibly your fault?” Cassian asked with a sigh. “Rhys asked you to wait, did he not? Wouldn’t that make it his fault?”

It wasn’t Rhys’ fault. It was on Azriel. Azriel’s mate was lying there, fighting for her life and he could do absolutely nothing to make this easier for her. At least Rhys could try and take her pain away…but Azriel? 

“Quite frankly, the fault is with Keir,” Cassian said quietly. “He was the one who wanted to kill Nyx. Eira was just collateral damage.”

What?

“She’s not just collateral damage,” Azriel growled, his hand twitching to Truthteller's hilt without even thinking about it. 

Eira wasn’t just a thing, wasn’t just a number, wasn’t just a…

Cassian seemed to realise how badly worded that was, but Azriel was already so fucking angry. 

“Az,” Cassian said quietly, holding up his hands. “That’s not how I meant that. I only meant that she was that for Keir.”

“She’s my mate!” Azriel spat out. His mate. 

Even when he didn’t deserve her. Didn’t deserve to even look at her after what had happened. 

“I know,” Cassian said quietly. “I know, Az.”

He reached out hesitantly, clasping Azriel’s shoulder…jostling him with his wing…Trying and failing to ground him in the here and now, when all Azriel could think about was the feeling of Eira’s limp hand against his lips, the scent of her blood, the grey pallor of her skin…

“Amren is back,” Cassian said nearly thoughtfully, but Azriel ignored that, going back to staring at his hands, at the gnarled scars that covered them…the absolutely ruined scar tissue that covered them and made them look like they belonged to a monster. 

How…How in the world had the Mother thought it to be prudent to mate him to Eira? To Eira with her milk-pale, freckled, perfect skin…the epitome of a lady? 

How…

Rhys’ mental voice snapped through his mind at that:  *Dining Room. Now.*

He didn’t sound…Rhys sounded angry. 

Something had happened. 

It took less than a minute for them all to find their place in the dining room, Nyx upstairs with the wraiths, probably the only non-members of the Inner Circles that Feyre and Rhys would be willing to let near Nyx for the foreseeable future. 

“Do you want to tell us what exactly your problem is?” Amren asked, crossing her arms and Rhys stared at her, violet eyes sharp. 

“My problem?” he repeated, his voice velvet soft, betraying the anger that lay beneath it. “Amren, your reaction to Eira laying in her bed a few hours after being stabbed is that she’s finally turning out to be interesting!”

What? 

The shadows swirled tighter around him, a hissing running through them. They had never trusted Amren in the first place and right now that…that was just strengthening their stand. 

“She is finally turning out to be interesting. I have never heard of anybody controlling lightning,” Amren defended herself with a roll of her eyes. 

What? 

“Eira controlled lightning?” Cassian repeated, the question he also had. “Eira?” 

She did, Master, the shadows agreed. She was sublime. 

Lightning. She had controlled it? Like Nesta controlled the Silver Flames of Death? 

“Eira killed these males?” Feyre asked, sounding shocked. 

“She completely magically exhausted herself in the process,” Rhys agreed with a sigh. 

“I didn’t think she would ever…be able to do anything,” Mor admitted quietly and his hands turned into fists. Anything? Eira did a lot of things that neither Mor nor any other member of their family could do.  

“We’ll need to train her,” Amren said. “She has…untapped potential.”

“No,” Nesta snapped, quicker than he even could open his mouth. “You are not doing this to my sister. Eira does not want to be a soldier.”

No. Eira…Eira liked things soft and gentle and not…she didn’t want to fight. And nobody would make her do that as long as Azriel was alive. 

“We’ll talk to her, she’ll be…reasonable,” Amren said with a shrug.

“No, you won’t. I won’t have it,” Nesta hissed. 

“Nesta…” Feyre said quietly, thoughtfully, but Nesta cut her off. 

“The first time you killed a deer and she prepared it for dinner, she spent three hours crying hysterically in our back garden afterwards,” Nesta snapped. “I am not letting you take this from her.”

He hadn’t known that. There were so many things that he didn’t know about Eira…so many questions he had never gotten to ask her, so many questions that just…

“She already killed three males,” Feyre said quietly. 

She had. Though Azriel thought that killing in pure self-defense was something different than going into a fight and knowing that you would kill. Two very different mindsets. 

“Which just proves my point, she’s dangerous,” Amren agreed. 

And he was done. 

“So am I,” Azriel snapped. “You are not turning Eira into anything she doesn’t want.”

“She would agree,” Amren said with a roll of her eyes. 

Of course, Eira would agree to that particular request. 

“Of course, she would agree. She always just tried to make everybody’s life easier!” Nesta snapped, slapping her hands flat onto the table, as Cassian reached out to soothe his mate and she ignored the hand he carefully placed on her arm. 

“This is not up for discussion, Amren,” Rhys finally said evenly. “Eira is terrified of you. You are not going to request anything from her, because it wouldn’t be a request.” He sighed. “And that’s not what I wanted to talk about either.”

“You don’t want to talk about Feyre’s sister suddenly being able to summon lightning and having killed three elite soldiers in the process?” Mor asked with a snort. 

“Would you stop it?” Nesta asked, her voice sharp. “She’s not just Feyre’s sister or Azriel’s mate. Eira is her own fucking person!”

It was biting and razor sharp and Azriel swallowed. 

She was right.  Nesta was right. Of course, she was. 

“Nesta is right,” Rhys agreed, something that made everybody at the table sit up straight because these words were exceedingly rare. If not nearly unheard. Rhys and Nesta agree…it must be dire. “I would like to talk about the fact that Eira has spent the last 3 years so fucking miserable that that being pulled into her mind made me throw up…because it’s a neverending repeat of her feeling worthless and useless and like she’s not allowed to take up any room.”

What? 

What?

Eira had felt like this? His mate had felt like this?!

When had she felt like this? How? 

He watched Feyre’s blue eyes fill with tears…watched as she stared at her mate. 

“She hasn’t said anything. Why wouldn’t she say anything?” Feyre asked, her voice shaking. “Rhys?” 

“Because we gave her absolutely no reason why she should trust us, Feyre Darling. None of us,” Rhys answered with a sigh. “Her shields are nonexistent. I wasn’t careful and she dragged me into her memories. By the time I finally got to pull myself out, it already had been…”

“I didn’t do anything to her,” Mor said, crossing her arms. 

“So you didn’t say that as far as cauldron blessed went she’s useless? And you didn’t say that while at dinner, where we all heard it, or and we all laughed?” Rhys cut her off sharply. “Do not absolve yourself of the blame, Morrigan. This is on all of us.”

What? Had he been there? He couldn’t remember. he couldn’t….this had happened and he couldn’t…

It happened, Master, the shadows hissed. More happened too, Master. None of you have done anything to make her feel welcome or appreciated in…months, if not years. She has cried often. 

“Show me,” Feyre demanded at that moment. 

“She already lost enough of her privacy.” Nesta’s disagreed, her voice frosty. Azriel watched that particular match of minds carefully. Did he...

Yes. He wanted to know. He needed to know. What had he done? How badly had he fucked up? 

“Show me,” Feyre repeated.  “If she’s angry, It’s my fault. I’ll take her blame,” she told Rhys fiercely. “But show me, show us…when…”

Rhys sighed, but when he looked at Feyre, and Azriel watched the moment where he must have placed Eia’s memory in Feyre's mind as she clasped her hand in front of her mouth, her eyes welling over with tears. 

He looked over to Mor, who just nodded…then Amren, then Nesta…then Cassian…Azriel watched his brother steel himself, and then the way his expression crumbled. 

He felt Rhys’ mental touch against his shields…*Az…Are you sure you want this?* Rhys asked and he just… 

*Yes.*

The memory was dropped into his mind. 

Blue velvet box. Winter solstice. 

Pearl Earrings. Beautiful. So beautiful. 

But for her…for her useless. Her ears weren’t pierced. 

He hadn’t even noticed that. It hurt worse than even his smiles at her sister. 

He had brought her a gift…but it wasn’t a gift that she could use, no gift that…no gift that was special to her…no thought behind it…jsut an item on a list to be checked off. 

Something for Eira. Beautiful and Impersonal and…

No attention paid to her. 

She didn’t deserve his attention. Never. 

But she wanted it. Just once…

Please, Please, Please, Please…

Azriel’s hands turned into fists. 

He remembered these earrings. Of course, he did. 

Each consisted out of one round diamond with a perfect oval pearl dropping from it. 

He had bought them for Eira. Had picked them out in fact. Had thought that they were…modest but elegant…simple but beautiful…that they would suit her so well. 

And he had only bought them after he had asked Elain what Eira would like for Solstice. 

And Elain had told him…had told him that Eira wanted earrings. That she had been thinking about having her ears pierced. And of course, Azriel hadn’t thought closer about it then…Neither had his shadows. They had believed Elain. 

Believed Elain’s pretty words. 

“You lied to me,” he spat out, his words so sudden, so menacing that it made everybody stop in their tracks…the shadows reached out, lengthening and he tightened his hold on them as he fixed Elain…beautiful Elain with his hard green eyes. 

Elain who always acted so soft…so sweet…

But she had done this on purpose. 

“What?” she squeaked out. 

“You lied to me, Elain,” he repeated, his voice hoarse with anger.  “I bought Eira these earrings because you said she wanted them. I knew that she couldn’t wear them. I knew her ears weren’t pierced, but you told me she wanted to do that, so I bought them for her. And instead, she thinks that I never cared enough to notice that about her?”

“Cauldron,” Rhys breathed. 

“Why?” Azriel bit out. Elain stared at him, brown eyes hard, lips pursed. 

“Does it matter? It’s Eira.” She spat out the words. 

And he had enough. 

So had the shadows. 

You stupid girl, they hissed, for once so loud that everybody could hear them, everybody flinching away from them. Of course, they did. 

“They can talk?“ Feyre asked, her voice small and shaky.

“On very rare occasions,” Cassian answered quietly. “Circumstances must be…exceedingly dire.”

And they were. 

This was about Eira. 

“What exactly is your problem?” Azriel growled. What was this about? Where was this coming from? He had never noticed any kind of…tension between them. Not from Eira at least. 

So why was…

“It’s Eira,” Elain said like that explained everything. 

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” Nesta asked her voice, icy. “Do you think Eira doesn’t deserve Azriel?”  Nesta asked, her silver eyes fixing on her sister…the sister she had doted on…protected so thoroughly…and now…now they were on opposite ends. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course, she doesn’t,” Elain said with a roll of her eyes. 

It was so quiet in the room that one could have heard a pin dropping. 

“How can you say that?” Nesta challenged her sister, her voice violently even. “This is Eira. Your twin sister. What has she ever done to you?!”

And then the anger in Elain’s eyes seemed to boil over. 

“She doesn’t deserve him!” Elain snapped “What has she that I don’t? I am the pretty one!” It poured out of Elain and Azriel could just watch in horror. “I am the one that’s supposed to marry for Love and Beauty! She’s…she’s useless!”

“Useless?” Nesta interrupted her sharply. “Feyre and Eira kept us alive, Elain! Feyre hunted, yes. And Eira…Eira did the rest, Elain!  She cooked and she cleaned and she did the laundry and her fucking potato patch was what made sure that we didn’t starve on more than one occasion!” she growled. “You liked to pretend that it wasn’t that bad but it was!“

“I can’t listen to this,” Rhys said quiet. “Your sister did everything so that you could survive. Your sister spent her whole life taking care of you… You were gifted with a sister that loved you so fiercely, that would do anything for you...and you treated her like this? Your sister spent the last few years suffering. Because of things we said, things we done. I am not absolving any of us of that blame…but you…you did this on purpose…” Rhys stared at Elain and Azriel saw the minute blink, the way Elain’s hands tightened on the table…”I just wonder why?”. 

And he knew that Rhys had just gone into her mind… And then there was a thunderous expression on Rhys’ face. Without a word, he poured what he had gotten from Elain into Azriel’s mind…

A vision. 

A vision from a cauldron-blessed Seer. 

And he stared at it, his heart plummeting. 

Elain had seen this and still…still tried to drive Azriel and Eira apart. 

She had seen this vision of the future…of Eira…of Eira with a little girl in a garden, no older than maybe three…a pair of Illyrian wings sprouting proudly from her back…the girl's hair the exact shade of her mother’s hair…her eyes unmistakenly Azriel’s…freckles covering her face…Both of them kneeling in the mud, dresses sprinkled with it, and not a care in the world as they pulled carrots from the ground. 

And then Azriel watched himself land in front of the two of them, a smile on his face and lean down to press a kiss to Eira’s lips. 

She smiled at him…so incredibly happy as he picked up the little girl, settling her on her hip…and then the basket of vegetables…and then he helped her up and he watched as one of his scarred hands settled possessively on the slight swell of her belly. 

It was like somebody doused him in icy water. 

How dare you? the shadows hissed, flinging themselves at Elain, who screamed, as they wrapped themselves around her, nothing gentle about their touch. Do not ever…ever come near her again. Do not even look at her. You are not going to hurt her again. Ever again. And if you do…you will regret it. She cried over you. For hours. And you repay her like this?!

He didn’t know how he wrestled them back under his control…how he got them to not outright slaughter Elain right there…

He didn't know how. Because he wanted. Because he...

*Azriel, it's alright,* Rhys breathed into his mind. *It's alright.* But it wasn't. Because Elain...Elain had tried to stop this future from ever happening. Had tried to stop his children from being born. She had tried to take this from him. This perfect slice of happiness...of his very own paradise. 

His daughter. His mate. 

“I…I do not think that the Night Court is the right environment for you anymore,” Feyre said, her voice shaking and Azriel’s gaze snapped to his High Lady, the tears that tracked down her face. 

“You are sending me away?” Elain asked, sounding utterly aghast. 

“I’ll ask your mate to come fetch you, Lucien… you may remember him as your fiancé,” Feyre said pointedly. 

“I am your sister!” Elain snapped. 

“So is Eira,” Feyre gave back, crossing her arms. “And only one of you has tried to destroy the other.” 

[peppertoastuniverse]

pep reads: gojo satoru – long fics (pt.1)

Part 2

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

☆ the way you love me by @peachsayshi [AO3/tumblr] [status: ongoing ◦ 29/? chapters] [smut!] [fwb!gojo] #pep's first fic she was OBSESSED with #real good good smut WITH FEELINGS

“We can stop anytime. If either one of us feels like... this ...might be too much. We stop, no questions .” “We can stop anytime,” Gojo repeated “... and nothing changes between us .” You swallowed hard at his last statement. You may not be able to read his eyes but you could hear it in his voice that he needed reassurance. “No matter what happens, we’ll still be friends...” you replied softly, “now kiss me before I change my mind.”

☆ you and me by tomodachi [AO3: ] [status: completed ◦ 5/5 chapters] [tear jerker] [eventual smut!] #pep cried #gojo just kinda loves you real hard

“Prisoners say the most comical things when their judgment comes,” you tilt your head, lifting a finger before him, “Who are you?"

--- History is written by the winners, Satoru knew this well. It was only when he lost and got sealed inside the Prison Realm he learned how to be weak and find out a long buried truth.

☆ ito by peekamatcha [AO3] [status: ongoing ◦ 48/? chapters] [super slow burn] [shinto elements] #pep DIES with every update #the TWIST in that one chapter omg

You, a former sorcerer now working as a university lecturer, were hoping to maintain your distance with the sorcerer world for an eternity to come. However, with the reappearance of an upperclassmen from a decade ago, you are forced to go on a journey which you would rather sit out of. But somebody must save humanity from the impending apocalypse and apparently the job falls on the shoulders of you two.

It would have been alright had he not been everything you didn’t want to be reminded of. And the sacrifices to be made may be more than what had been bargained for. ☆moonlight by @septembersummer [AO3/tumblr:] [status: completed ◦ 10/10 chapters] [smut!] #pep loves this AU #pep SCREAMED

Gojo Satoru is dying. And no, it's not his fault this time.

The curse which is withering Satoru into an early grave is actually the product of his great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather, who had a couple of sons that refused to procreate. And what does a proud, powerful man do when his sons refuse to fuck, and there won't be another heir to the clan?

He curses his own bloodline, of course.

It's only natural that he forces them through some twisted form of sorcery to become uncontrollably, violently attracted to the person they're most genetically compatible with.

It's even better that the curse creates a permanent, unbreakable bond between the two unwilling lovers. That's right, it usually takes more than one fuck to make a baby-- so, why not force them to have twelve?

Satoru wished his ancestor would be resurrected from the grave, just so that he could kill him again. That is, before Satoru inevitably dies.

He's had a good run, he thinks. Now, all he has to do is make sure you don't find out that you can fuck him back to life and try to very stupidly save him from himself.

(here's a spoiler: you do).

☆ a typical family by @literalia [AO3/tumblr] [status: completed? ◦ 32/32 chapters] [non liner narrative] [dad!gojo] #pep absolutely MELTED #slice of life #pep's gojo comfort fic

"satoru. where did you get these kids?"

or

after a six month absence, satoru shows up at your door two little kids following behind. chaos ensues.

☆ and if i cant see by hollowdonut [AO3: ] [status: unknown ◦ 26/? chapters] [slowburn] [eventual smut!] [tw: ptsd] #pep loves the reader's dynamics with gojo!

They say eyes are the window to the soul, but Gojo’s eyes are almost always hidden behind a blindfold. Even when they aren’t, you can never tell what he’s thinking.

You wonder if you should’ve taken that teaching job in Kyoto instead.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

bonus!

☆ all hail the empress! by @chuluoyi [tumblr/AO3: ] [status: unknown ◦ 1/? chapters] [smut!] #pep loves this AU #but THE END THO? OMGGG you are an empress perfect in every way... until your husband suddenly casts you aside for his expecting mistress. but you won't be dethroned just like that, because the newly coronated western emperor, gojo satoru, sets his sights on you, and thus your revenge against your ex-husband begins...

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Can you write one about were Logan x female reader x oscar or Lando x female reader x Oscar or Logan x Female reader x oscar x lando

Where They are at a afterparty for a race and since y/n was being a needy and bratty all race week and weekend long before they went to the after party some one of the 2-3 drivers had put a vibrator up her ass and at the party since she was still acting needy and bratty they started to turn up the power of the vibrator as they keep teasing her until she is on the edge about to cum and they stop telling her it’s her punishment for taking bratty all week and race weekend long as she started to beg and plead to let herself finish, they all take a car home to there shared apartment and but the vibrator at max power again and continue this in their room were they end up have unprotected sex, use rope and a mouth gag, blindfold, call her dirty names and say dirtier things to her or in her ear and after for aftercare they take super good care of her

Oscar is a Dom and in charge Lando and Logan can we doms or switchs, y/n is a sub

I'm actually gnawing at the bars of my enclosure right now, I love you anonymous 😘🫣.

You Shouldn't Have Done That

Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader x Logan Sargeant x Lando Norris

I hope I did you justice (for gotham)

Warnings: SMUT, Bondage, Vibrators, Overstimulation, Bratty Y/N, Sucker Logan, Mean Lando, MEANER Oscar, Crying, Slapping, Anal, Triple Penetration, probably more but I forgot

F1 Masterlist

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

Instagram

part 2

A knock at the door is what drew my attention away from my phone that I'd been staring at for the last 15 minutes reading a few of these 'fan fictions' about my boyfriends that people were DMing me. Apparently somebody with no life named 'logansargeantsbabymom' has been making shit smut and posting it on Tumblr.

"Baby, race is about to start" I could recognize that beautiful English accent from a mile away.

Normally hearing Lando's incredibly sexy voice would make my bones start jumping in my skin but apparently I'm not the only fucking one because people fantasize about having the filthiest sex with him, write about it, post it on Tumblr and his fans eat it up!!

"I'm coming" I said nonchalantly as I got off the sofa that Lando had in his drivers room.

Lando held the door open for me as I brushed past him making my way to the back of the garage and then out of it. I didn't want to see him.

"What's wrong with her?" Oscar says as he came up from behind Lando

"I've got no clue but if she keeps it up I'm fucking it out of her" Lando shrugged before putting his helmet on

One thing about me is that I will make sure I am the one that puts on all three of my boyfriends helmets on them. I love to go up on my tippy toes to bite the tip of their nose before placing a kiss on it then the helmet on them. I've always done it even if we had gotten into the biggest argument on planet earth but right now, that's the last thing I wanted to do for Lando. I couldn't do it for Oscar either because then I'd fell bad for doing our normal race day tradition on Oscar and then just dipping and leaving Lando alone.

I also didn't want to deal with the consequences of "favoriting" Logan if I only did it for him so I skipped out on the tradition as a whole. The race was about to start in 10 minutes which means the drivers are all about to or already in their car and getting ready to get out on the track. I couldn't go back into the McLaren garage or I'd have to face two of the three boyfriends I'd just pissed off and I couldn't go to the Williams garage because they probably already texted Logan. So I went to the next best place: The Mercedes Garage.

I was forbidden to go in the Mercedes garage alone because apparently Lewis has a 'thing' for me, which wouldn't surprise me because I'm hot.

"Hey Y/N, what're you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be biting your boyfriends' noses?" I knew that cheeky English accent and it belong to the man that I was never to be in a room with alone.

"Lewis! Supposed to? Yes. Am? No, they pissed me off so I'm ignoring them." I shrugged. I really couldn't care less how they were going to react to me breaking tradition.

"Isn't that just going to get you in trouble?" Lewis said cautiously

"Not as much trouble I'll be in if they find out I was here with you alone." I chuckled as I shrugged.

I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket like crazy which caused me to whip it out and see what the fuck was going on.

Fantastic 4

Fav Butt Plug: I swear to the heavens above Y/N if this girl whose on the screen right now is you in the Mercedes garage with Lewis ALONE, I'm having your ass tonight. Oscunt: I want to know what the fuck has you all pissed at Lando but I don't like your little stunt of ignoring ME. Me: Stalkers Logie: Baby, why didn't you come to put my helmet on? Fav Butt Plug: You have one more time to piss me off Y/N.

"Lewis do you want to help me with something real quick?" The idea I had in mind was sure to make the tabloids right away and send the internet into a frenzy

"I don't like the general direction of where your idea's go." I waved a hand at him

"Let me put your helmet on you, I promise there will be no kissing" I looked at the clock, Lewis had 5 minutes before he was to be getting on the track and with a quick nod of his head I took the helmet out of his hands before securing it on his head before giving him a big smile and a bear hug before he was ushered into his car.

As I was exiting the Mercedes garage, I didn't know where I was going to go. Everyone is still in their respective garages and I'm NOT facing my boyfriends right now. Shortly after my encounter with

Fantastic 4 Fav Butt Plug: expect 10 orgasms MINIMUM tonight. Oscunt: None of which from me so don't ask. Logie: Did I do something baby? Why did you put Lewis' helmet on and not mine? Oscunt: Logan, she's being a brat. She didn't put mine or Lando's helmets on. Logie: I'm sorry for whatever I did to you, my sweet girl Oscunt: She acts this way because you give into her every ask, this is your fault Logan. I hope you crash. Logie: first of all, don't say that because I still don't have a seat for next season. Secondly, I do give into her every word because she's my pillow princess. Me: At least someone appreciates me, I love you Logan Logie: I love you more. Oscunt: She was never spoiled or a brat until you came along Logan, maybe you deserved to get punished alongside your dear 'pillow princess'. Me: Don't you dipshits (not you Logan) have a race? Stop texting me and drive.

————————

And drive is exactly what they did because Lando came in 1st, Oscar 3rd and Logan 4th.

The race was definitely a hard one with the on and off rain, the wall of champions and the hairpin but somehow they all managed it and they did it well.

Usually when one of my boyfriends has a good race weekend the victory sex is amazing but all 3 of them placed in the top 4? I don’t think I’m getting ANY rest tonight.

I stood by the scale so I could congratulate 2 of my boyfriends for their victory podiums but after they were congratulated by their team and they recorded their weights, they walked right past me.

I felt a sharp pain in my heart at their act but then I realized why they did what they did, I was being a brat before the race but if they wanna act like that, I will one up them.

I turned my head to the man who was currently getting his weight recorded and the man who came in second. It also happens to be the same man who I’m not allowed to be alone with.

“LEWIS!! CONGRATULATIONS!” I screamed as I hugged him, making sure to make the hug last a little longer than a typical ‘friend’ hug would last while also swaying us side to side.

"Y/N! Thank you, thank you. Are you coming to the after party, we already rented out the whole bar?" There was a little sparkle in his eyes that gave me an idea.

A sly smirk plastered itself on my face "Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world, especially if you're going to be there!" I placed a quick kiss on his cheek before placing my hand where I had just placed the kiss.

"Y/N!!" It was a loud and angry yell that should've scared me but it did the exact opposite, it turned me on.

I turned to face the person the voice belonged to, to see Lando with the meanest glare I've ever seen on his face. I gave a little nod goodbye to Lewis before making my way to Lando.

"Hey my handsome winner" I said when I got close enough as I ran my hand through his thick and messy curls, it didn't last long though because he grabbed my wrist and dragged me with him to his drivers room.

When we got there he opened the door and shoved me inside where I was met with my other two boyfriends who looked less than pleased with me. Lando slammed the door shut which caused me to jump and face him.

Lando's face didn't shift a bit from his angry demeanor. "Oh, is bunny scared? Surprised she can act any other way that isn't bratty" I heard a voice from behind me say as a chest was up pressed against my back and felt the back of a hand trace the side of my face before gripping the flesh of my throat.

"Oscar" it came out as a choked groan

I saw Logan from the corner of my eyes fishing something out of a box that Lando had stowed away behind the sofa before he made his way over to us. Oscar still had his hand on my throat but he ushered me towards the massage bed Lando has before aggressively bending me over on it which caused me to let out a groan. I could hear Logan's footsteps coming closer to where Lando was before handing him a pink object and I felt Oscar's hand at the hem of my leggings before yanking them down along with my panties.

At first Oscar was just playing with the flesh of my ass and occasionally leaving harsh slaps on it saying things like "You asked for this", "take this part of your punishment like a good girl and maybe I'll tell Lando to go easy on you." I heard Lando whisper something to Oscar and then I felt one more final and harsh slap on my ass before I felt Oscar's hands spread open my ass cheeks and forced his thumb in my tight asshole thrusting it in and out before shoving the Lush lovense vibrator where his thumb once was.

A loud string of moans and curse words left my lips before I felt a pair of lips on mine swallowing my moans. When he pulled away, I opened my eyes to see my favorite American right there looking at me with sympathetic eyes. Logan never liked when I got punished and had to deal with all the roughness Lando and Oscar put me through, he only liked soft, vanilla sex most of the time.

"It's okay baby, just be good" Logan said before he placed a soft and tender kiss on my lips.

Oscar's rough hands yanked me back into a standing position and Lando bent over to lift my leggings back up and over my waist before lightly slapping my cheek

"This is how you're going to the afterparty, don't you even think about cumming until we get home OR unless me or Oscar give you permission." I knew he was going to leave Logan out of giving me permission because he gives me basically everything I want with just a bat of my lashes.

-----

We've only been in this bar/club for less than 30 minutes and I'm already sweating. I'm not sweating because there's a lot of people in here all grinding against each other, no I'm sweating because Lando keeps turning the vibrator on the fastest setting and letting it go just until I'm about to cum before he turns it off denying me any sort of relief and he's done this about 6 times already. I can't do this anymore.

Lando turned the vibrator on full blast and watched as I squirmed in my seat as I was having a conversation with Alex

"Are you okay? You're sweating more than normal right now and you keep fidgeting" Poor Alex, she seemed so concerned

"Yeah I just have to go to the bathroom, I've had to pee for a while now but I didn't want to interrupt your story" It wasn't a total lie, I didn't want to interrupt her story but I didn't have to pee.

"Oh Y/N, go to bathroom, I'll be here!" with that I quickly made my way to the ladies room quickly checking every stall before settling into one and taking the vibrator out of my ass, sighing in relief before wrapping it in toilet paper and tossing it into the bin.

Exiting the stall with a smile on my face, I quickly washed my hands before making my way back to Alex.

"Hey, sorry about that again. I really had to go" I tried to sound sincere, mainly because I was.

Alex finished telling me about her story about how Charles surprised her with a trip to Sydney and all the fun things they did over in the down under when I felt quick and rapid taps on my shoulder, prompting me to look at the man who was tapping me aggressively.

"Baby, we have to go now, Logan just got really sick" My heart dropped and I looked over Lando's shoulder to see Oscar helping Logan out of the bar.

"I'm sorry Alex, I have to go" I didn't wait for her response before I bolted past Lando and out the door.

Much to my surprise when I made it past the bar doors, I saw Logan and Oscar laughing up a storm and having a good time. My mouth hung in shock as I couldn't believe the sight in front of me. I was about to turn around to give Lando a piece of my mind for lying to me and making me cut my conversation short.... AGAIN.

"Lando! How dare you lie-" I couldn't finish my sentence due to Lando holding up his hand signaling me to shut up before pulling his phone out and flipping it.

The sight made my face drop, he was currently showing me the app he has to control my vibrator setting and it was all the way up.

"Bunny, do you know how many times I turned this up tonight?" Lando tilted his head and when I didn't answer he tsked before walking closer to me "I'm not asking you again. Answer me like a good girl and I won't punish you."

"You won't?" he shook his head "I took it out at 6, I don't know how many more times you did it after"

"I turned it up 4 more times after you took it out." I felt a body against my back

"Just wait until we get home for your punishment " Oscar whispered in my ear before slapping my ass so hard I let out a little yelp

"I thought I wasn't getting punished?" I said confused

"No, I said I wasn't punishing you. I said nothing about Oscar" A cocky smirk plastered itself on Lando's insanely hot face and I watched as him and Oscar both got into Lando's McLaren.

I felt a hand on the small of my back and I turned to see Logan, he seemed to have a sympathetic look on his face "I tried to get them to come up with a different type of punishment then what you're getting but they didn't want to hear it. Don't say I didn't try to help you"

Oh god.

----

When we got back to Oscar's apartment, I almost didn't want to go in. I didn't have to have to endure the punishments they had in store for me but Oscar didn't take lightly to that and in 2 seconds flat he threw me over his shoulders and walked me to his room.

Lando had made his way to his room to get what he claimed was 'part of your punishment' while Logan closed the door to the apartment. Oscar had chucked me on the bed before yanking me to the edge of it, holding a hand on my chin forcing me to look at him in the eyes.

"Strip" was all Oscar said. I did as I was told because I already knew I was in for a long night and I didn't want to push Oscar any further.

I started slowly unbuttoning my dress shirt but Oscar didn't like that, he ripped the shirt open sending the buttons flying everywhere. I wanted to yell at him for ruining my favorite shirt but I knew there was going to be no point. When Lando and Logan walked in the room I could tell they also knew that I wouldn't be in the pubic eye for about a week after all three of them were done with me.

Logan made his way around and on the bed to be right behind me "These tits, oh my gosh. You're going to be the death of me" Logan mumbled into the crook of my neck as his hands made their way around my body to grope my chest.

"I can't wait to burry my cock in her tight little ass" Lando said as he sat on the bed beside me and started to kiss my shoulder. I let out a string of moans as I had two pairs of lips kissing and sucking on two different parts of my body

"Wanna tell me what made you so upset earlier that caused you to be bratty all day today? Hmm?" Lando said as his hand snaked its way down my stomach and under the elastic of my leggings.

"Let's take these off, yeah?" Oscar said as he yanked them off my body.

My legs instinctively opened to allow Lando more access to where I ached for him the most.

"I saw- oh my gosh Lando, please" I was cut off my Lando having inserted two digits into my pussy, thrusting them in and out while his thumb started rubbing circles on my clit.

"I believe Lando asked you a question Bunny" Oscar said as he reached his hands around my body to unclasp my bra.

His one hand immediately found my breast and started circling my nipples as Logan moved to the opposite side of him to attach his mouth to my other breast, swirling his tongue around the bud of my nipple.

"I saw people fantasize about fucking you. All of you" it sounded pathetic and hypocritical coming from me because I did the exact same thing before I got with all three of them.

"Bunny, we only have eyes for you." Lando said as he kiss the tip of my nose "But you're still getting punished" with that Lando grabbed me and yanked my body onto his, my back against his chest as he fists his cock a few times before aligning it to my asshole and thrusting up and in my tight hole. A loud cry escaped my lips before Oscars mouth found mine drowning out the noise. I felt the cushion of the bed dip before feeling a tap on my face, I opened it to see Logan cock right next to my face.

My mouth instinctively opened and took his cock in, moaning at the taste of his precum on my tongue. Logan started to thrust his cock in my mouth at a pace that had drool running down my chin in no time. The sound of me choking on Logans cock and skin to skin contact from Lando's painfully rough thrusts was all that filled the room. Oscar soon joined the party as he shoved his cock into my cunt with no warning which caused me to pull my mouth away from Logan cock to let out an unexpected screech.

"I didn't say you could stop sucking my cock, now did I?" Logan said as he gripped my face and shoved his cock back in my mouth, this time he fucked my face with so much force I thought I was fucking a different guy.

Soon enough after everyones strokes and pace matched, I knew I was one step closer to the edge and I was about to break (pls get the linkin park reference) . I felt the coil in the stomach tighten and my orgasm was finally about to wash over me tonight.

As if they all read my mind or just knew my body, the all simultaneously pulled out and left me nothing.

"No!" I cried at the empty feeling washing over my body, it all felt like sudden coldness.

"You didn't think we were letting you off the hook that easily did you?" Lando's tone mocking as he ordered "Go up against the headboard"

I did as I was told knowing there was no point in fighting them. Once I was against the board, I watched Lando as he grabbed what he went to his room for: A blindfold, rope and one singular feather.

Lando tossed the rope to Oscar who immediately started tying my wrists to the bedposts and threw the blindfold to Logan who eagerly took it out the packaging and on my face.

The room fell silent for about a minute after I was tied up, no one moved, no one talked. I felt the bed dip and the movement caused my whole body to tense, soon after I felt the feather being dragged up my thigh to my stomach before feeling it swirl around my nipples. A mix of moans, groans, and "fuck"s all left my mouth as I felt my orgasm creeping closer.

"Baby, I'm going to fuck you now, okay?" Oscar said before he aligned himself with the entrance of my cunt before sliding in with ease, his thrusts started off slow and sensual, allowing me to adjust to his size before his thrust became rough and erratic.

Oscar wasn't the only one eager to get his dick wet because I felt a thumb tap my bottom lip, signaling me to open it before I felt a cock brush past my lips. Based on his thrust in my mouth, I could tell it was Lando's cock that I was currently sucking, his pace relentless.

Oscar's hips started stuttering against my body as his thrusts slowed and I knew he was close to his orgasm. One thing about Oscar is that when he cums, he never wants to do it alone which means I'm finally about to get my release that's been eluding me all night.

Oscar abruptly pulled his cock out of me leaving me empty and orgasmless again, my disappointment didn't last long because as fast as Oscar pulled out Logan just as fast attached his mouth to my clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud bringing me close to my orgasm, which I was fully prepared to not have again.

Much to my surprise Logan didn't stop which prompted me to wrap my legs around his head making sure he couldn't go anywhere as he pushed me off the edge and I came with a loud strings of cursing and chants of 'Logan' leaving my mouth as my body shuddered and my legs squeezed around Logan head. I felt him moan against my vagina which made my body jerk upward at the vibrations.

Soon after I came down from my high, I felt a strong pair of hands yanking my legs apart before feeling Logan because torn away from my pussy.

"You shouldn't have done that Logan" Lando whispered in his ear.

------

y'all- if there's typos or a part doesn't make sense its because I'm sleepy. I wanted to put something out because I haven't in like 3 days or something like that and I felt bad.

taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal @eddieharrington @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi @Ggasly.p @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii

[disneyprincemuke]

of drunk regrets * fem!driver

the morning after vegas

what does one do when you have no recollection of getting married?

pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, mick schumacher x fem!driver

notes: hi late update and that’s because i was crocheting the entire day lol

(series masterlist)

she hums turning around, her arm landing on something solid instead of a soft pillow. she opens an eye, flinching back when her eyes land on someone’s clothed back, then groans when nausea slowly hits her.

“who the fuck is this?”

the person next to her hums. they left their head before dropping it back into the pillow. “mm.”

she looks around to the best of her ability, snorting when she realises that amidst all her drunken antics from the night before, they didn’t even end up on the bed. they’re sleeping on the carpeted floor of her hotel room.

she lifts her head, ignoring the nausea hitting her all at once. the bed is empty.

a hand comes up to nurse her head, looking down at the body lying next to her with the blanket draped over their shoulder loosely. she brought somebody back to her hotel room with her? now that’s just a tabloid rumour waiting to blow up in her face when she opens up her phone.

she leans forward, wobbling slightly, as she tries to get a glimpse of their face. her eyes widen, landing a smack on their shoulder with some force. "what the hell are you doing here?"

"don't hit me, i'm trying to sleep."

"mick! you're in my hotel room!"

"what?" blue eyes are exposed to the dim lights of the room, disappearing once more when mick shuts his eyes. "what am i doing here?"

"how would i know?" she sighs, slowly lying back down on the ground. "i don't remember anything."

"we didn't do anything... did we?"

she looks down at herself, surprisingly dressed in her pyjamas without any recollection of even making it back into her hotel room in the first place. "i hope not."

"you hope?" mick cries, shaking his head in dismay. "this is not good."

"give me a second. i need to think," she sighs, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. "start thinking. do you remember anything from last night?"

mick also sighs, simply shaking his head. he pulls the blanket over his body and snuggles back into his pillow. "no, but wake me up when you've figured it out. i'm really hungover right now, mate."

"really? you don't think i am?"

"i'm sure you are, but– what the hell is this on my finger? when did i get a mood ring?"

"you have a mood ring?" there's a momentary pause. "oh, look. i've got one too. when did i–"

they both sit up hurriedly, hissing in pain as they point at each other with a loud gasp. "no! are you serious? did we really do that? when did we even have the time to do that?"

mick cries. "my mother is going to kill me."

"mine will kill me – i'm barely 21, mick!"

"i'm going to american jail! you're not even legal here!" he rubs his eyes. “i don’t wanna go to jail here!”

she scrambles around for her phone, eyes widening at her notifications.

SUPERMAX you and mick???

RATSELL what's ur ig post about m8?

LOWGAN when u wake up, there's a cup of water and an advil on the bedside for u also, check ur instagram

PASTRY you did the funniest thing last night.

LILLIES thanks for the free pizza wish i could've been there for the actual ceremony though? it's ok, maybe at your next wedding

ALBONO please tell me you didn't

LAW SON i think u may have sent logan over the edge cuz wtf is bro doing in my hotel room ranting to charlotte and i at 5am

MICKEY ur asleep rn i can't sleep when do u think we should renew our vows??? oh no we got married!??!??!

BLYTHE mate u got married without me in attendance??? not saying i'm offended but like seriously?

THE BETTER SARGEANT who u married to? if it's logan istg omg is it mick? i saw ur instagram

LANCE

congrats!!!

if i’d known sooner, i’d have bought you a wedding gift before landing in vegas

i’ll get one before the last race i promise

SEBASTIAN ur very funny, do u know that? text me when ur up, we should talk

MUMMY wowww let me know what wedding gift to get you you grow up so fast, my love

PAPA what is all this ruckus i'm hearing between mum and blythe about you getting married? call me.

KRISTEN (PR) team meeting asap. bring the schumacher.

she glances at mick. "my dad's going to kill you."

mick turns to her, shoulders slumped with his eyes widened in panic. "i really really hope my mother gets to me first." he shakes his head and pats around the ground for his phone. "you know what? i'll just tell her myself."

“don’t bother,” she scoffs, lying back down in the pillow sprawled on the floor. “i vividly remember you calling gina when we were getting pizza that you married me in vegas.”

kristen chews on the inside of her cheek, scanning the group around her. "what is this? i only told you to bring mick."

the girl takes off the sunglasses on her face and sighs. "you think i didn't try telling them off? is this your first time meeting these losers? i– listen, i'm too hungover to tell them off, kristen."

"please let us stay?" max smiles, batting his eyelashes at the older woman. "i promise we'll be quiet. i'm just curious over the events of last night."

"so am i," kristen points out in a soft voice, moving her eyes over the pair seated on the couch on the other side of her table. at that point, they are the least of her concerns. "do you know the pr nightmare you just caused over a couple of drinks? do you have any idea the reckless thing you just did?"

"please don't shout," she says softly, eyes closing. "it was stupid, we know. in my defense–"

"they shouldn't have even let us in the chapel in the first place in that state," mick sighs, shaking his head disapprovingly. “so technically, whose fault is it, really?”

“both of yours for even coming up with the stupid idea in the first place!” logan screams, pointing at them in frustration. “you made a bad decision!”

kristen glances at logan, shooting him a side eye for disrupting her meeting. when logan shrugs, she simply looks back at the married pair her seats. “you’re not even 21! you did this in america too! god!”

“and they shouldn’t have permitted it knowing that i wasn’t 21!” the young girl shrieks, immediately defending herself. this is a hill she is willing to die on. “let’s focus more on the fact that they let two drunk idiots get married instead of the fact that i thought of it.”

“you came up with that idea?” max throws his head back, hissing softly as he shook his head. “why am i not surprised?”

“right? you have to tell her how stupid she is for this,” logan rambles in frustration. “seriously! you couldn’t go one year without making a stupid decision?

she rolls her eyes, glancing at mick from the side of her eyes. he flashes her an apologetic grin and she shrugs with another eye roll in response.

“i mean, you’re an adult. you can do whatever you want, but do you know how legally exhausting the entire process will be from here on out?” max continues, throwing his arms in the air. “knowing you, you won’t like it! there’s a lot of papers to sign!”

“and paper work to read!” logan adds on. “seriously!”

“god, (y/n), how could you be so stu–“

“i came up with the idea,” mick speaks out, turning to max and logan with a small smile. “it’s not her fault, you guys. come on. lay off her a little bit.”

she shoots him a questioning stare. “no, wait–“

mick laughs. “the deal at the pizza place just looked so good. i’m not excusing it because we were drunk, but cut us some slack.”

sebastian, sitting quietly in the corner of the room, finally stands up. he folds his arms over his chest. “it doesn’t matter who came up with the crazy idea to get married in vegas.”

“you’re still not mad?” logan raises an eyebrow. “there’s got to be some part of you that is.”

“how about let me conduct my meeting with my driver in peace? unless you want to take over my job of being her pr officer…” kristen speaks out, looking around the room to shut down any more forms of interruption. she looks back at her. “let me see the marriage certificate.”

“the what?”

“you signed one, didn’t you?“

she scrunches her nose and looks at mick. “did we sign one? i really can’t remember.”

“i don’t,” mick cuts himself off, looking just as clueless, “i literally blacked out last night. i don’t remember anything.”

sebastian beams, standing a little straighter. “i have it right here! look at it, kristen.”

he puts down a piece of paper on the table. the entire room watches the woman read over the paper, lips pressed together.

a small laugh bubbles from her, grabbing the certificate into her hands and bringing it closer to her face. her laugh gets a little louder, sebastian eventually joining her with a hand over his mouth.

“what is so funny?” she sighs, rolling her eyes. “all i can think about is the shopping spree i can’t have this month over the lawyer fees.”

“and the fact that i could end up in american jail for marrying a 20-year-old!”

kristen grins, slamming the certificate down onto the table. “it’s illegitimate.”

“what?”

“oh?”

“surprising turn of events!”

“illegitimate?”

a hand slams into the table, the youngest in the room jumping to her feet. “illegitimate? what about my free pizza? how is that illegitimate? i’m not a schumacher anymore?”

“you changed your name?” oscar pipes up, roaring in laughter, covering his face. this entire ordeal has been very amusing to him.

she turns around sheepishly with a small smile. “i was planning to. how cool would it be to be a schumacher?”

“what the fuck?” logan says to her, bewildered at the thought process. “you’re not married and you’re telling me that’s the only thing you’re concerned about? not being a schumacher in the eye of the law?”

mick giggles, looking up at her with an impressed expression. “schumacher does go along well with your name.”

“i know. should we get married for realsies after this weekend and legally change my name?”

“have you learned nothing from this?” kristen throws her hands into the air. she leans back into her seat, letting out the heaviest sigh of relief as she no longer has to engage with any legal teams. pr wise, it would be easy.

she shrugs, sitting back down into the cushioned seat. “don’t get drunk with mick in vegas.”

“first and last time i’m drinking that much with you,” mick adds on with a snort. though, there’s a small smile playing on his face as he looks at her.

they both know that won’t be the last time they’ll be sending their pr officers into a frenzy. they’re truly a force to be reckoned with.

and, it could have been worse.

“i paid for all the pizzas you ate and threw up last night,” sebastian sighs, shaking his head. “you owe me like $100.”

she nods. “okay, i’ll pay you. still no shopping spree for me this month, i guess.”

mick clicks his tongue, giving her a thumbs up. “i’ll pay him. consider it my wedding gift to you, wife.”

“she’s not your wife,” logan points out with an eye roll. “didn’t even get married in the first place, remember? illegitimate. not even a real certificate. never happened. literally no record of it.”

“i’m curious,” max furrows his eyebrows and lips pouted out. “how did you pull this off to make it seem real, seb?”

“i arrived to their ‘wedding’–“

“not real!”

“logan, cut it out.”

“–before them. i spoke to the receptionist before they arrived; they don’t let drunk people get married. i convinced her to give them the slot anyway just to teach these two a lesson.”

“impressive?” kristen smiles. “you just saved me a lot of paper work.”

“and mick the beating he’d get from her dad if it actually ever happened to go through.”

she smiles, leaning over the arm rest to whisper at mick. she taps him on the shoulder. “we should celebrate with ice cream.”

— bonus

they flood out of the office collectively, the young girl looking down at the mood ring around her ring finger. “we should keep the rings, shouldn’t we, mick? keepsake.”

“to remind you of your bad decision making?” logan questions.

“no, to piss you off.” she turns around and shoves him back gently. “of course, just to keep memory of the one time i was almost a schumacher!”

sebastian tilts his head. “you know you’ll still be you, right? even if you’re legally considered a schumacher? you won’t get his blue eyes.”

“i could,” she hums with a smile. “so, husband. watching the race from my garage tonight like a factory manufactured wag?”

“can’t, wife,” mick sighs. “i work for mercedes.”

“i could get you the second seat if you wanted.”

“you have the power to do that?” she nods. “that’s hot.”

“cut it out, you guys are making max uncomfortable!” oscar grunts, pushing the pair apart.

beside them, max has his fingers plugged into his ears and is humming softly to himself. “it’s not real, it’s not real. they’re not actually married,” he whispers to himself. “and it will never happen.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @leilanixx @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @sadg3 @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @darleneslane @meadhbhcavanagh @namgification @inejismywife @2bormaybenot @love4lando

[paper-mario-wiki]

Hi, sorry if this is a weird question, but do you ever feel lonely in tf2? I've been playing for a few months now and while it's mostly been fun I always get this dreadful feeling when the match ends and everybody leaves. I also haven't made any friends which makes me sad. Have you made friends and if yes, how?

that feeling of loneliness has existed in the heart of every TF2 player since the Meat Your Match update.

it is difficult to meet people in casual unless you're an active participant in chat, or somebody else goes out of their way to interact with you specifically.

i find it really enjoyable to type in chat (even with the chance that 40% of the time i do it's spammed by bigoted jerks), and at the beginning of most of my games i start by sending "hi everyone! im googoo. lets all have fun together ok?" and more often than i get called annoying or cringe, im met with people saying "hi googoo!" and "gl hf!" (good luck have fun), which feels nice.

be ready to up and leave games if things become TOO heinous (what constitutes "too heinous" is up to your own discretion), but also dont be afraid to stick it out and talk with some of the other weirdos who play this 17 year old game.

sometimes, talking with people who are dickheads can be fruitful too.

one time, i was playing in casual and i met a stereotypical edgelord toxic tf2 player. they were typing shitty things in chat and had a bigoted name on one of their weapons. i called them out, and said "that's a weird way to act, most people will find it odd". as a result, they were teasing me and calling me names during the game, but i still played along side them. after a while, when they noticed that i was still being a helpful teammate to them and letting them take health packs/extinguishing them/protecting them, they were like "why are you helping me after i was a dick to you" in voice, but i ignored them. from then on they werent verbally abusive anymore.

the game continued, and they were speaking more in voice chat, specifically to me mostly, but i never responded. and after a while they said disappointedly "did googoo mute me?" and i said "no i didnt mute you." and he said "why do you still help me? even after ive been an asshole" and i said something along the lines of "i want to be a team player, and you are a part of my team. i dont want to be vindictive, because i dont think that's right. it wouldnt be helpful. i just wish you were a kinder person" and they said "oh. ok" in a really sad way.

after the game they left this comment on my steam profile.

and a few weeks later, they deleted it without another word.

the point of this story is that even as unapproachable as people seem, and as unapproachable as they will make themselves, every person playing has some degree of rationality and understanding, and they want to be a part of the normal social world too. some of them just dont really know how to.

[thaliagracesgf]

i get a boyfriend

part two of the casual series! (requests are in progress, i just churned this out because it is my baby)

warnings: making out and luke being cocky asf

wc: 1.2k

the sun streamed through your eyelids in the morning. you shifted in bed, cozying up in rebellion. you really did not want to get up. you felt luke behind you, starting to move, and you closed your eyes. you knew he wouldn’t be able to wake you up just yet. 

his head finds the crook of your neck, and his curls brush against your face. you’ve never felt so safe. 

“jesus christ,” you’re rudely disturbed. you keep your eyes shut. maybe beckendorf will leave. 

a knot grows in your stomach as luke grumbles from behind you. “fuck off, man. i was sleeping.”

“yeah. i noticed.” 

“what are you doing here? this isn’t your cabin,” he said, sleep evident in his low voice. 

“yeah, isn’t hers either. so are you two a thing now? you finally hook up last night? what’s the sitch here, because silena needs her update.”

with that, luke pulls himself up. “shut up, man.” he looks down at your ‘sleeping’ face, hoping you didn’t hear. “have some respect.”

you did hear, of course, and at first it did make you feel gross, but the ‘finally’ catches you, and you remember that luke wants you. he isn’t jack, who just wanted to fuck somebody, he’s been waiting, and yeah, the older kids at camp sometimes fuck. it’s relieving to realize that beckendorf doesn’t know about last night— he would never had said that if he did. besides, luke’s attempt at a defense, though hampered by his sleep-addled brain, is adorable. 

“i’m just saying! don’t act like you haven’t thought about it. every person in this godforsaken camp can see it, ’cept maybe her.” 

“can you seriously fuck off? i’ve got my girl, don’t make it my problem that you’re scared of yours.” 

you laugh softly at that one. you don’t open your eyes, but you can feel luke freeze behind you. beckendorf doesn’t notice, but your gig is up anyway. 

“your girl?” you mumble, a smile crossing your lips. beckendorf stifles a laugh. 

“alright, i’m heading out! good luck with this one, man.” you open your eyes, and even as they’re adjusting to the light in the cabin, you swear you can see him wink. you’re not sure which one of you it’s to. 

“die,” luke calls after him, throwing his head back on the pillow, but pulling you into his chest. 

“hi.” you say, still facing away from him, and he tucks his head into your neck again. 

“hi.” luke says. 

you turn yourself over to look at his eyes. they’re such a deep brown. he tilts his head forward. you smile. you let his lips graze yours. 

it’s exactly like it was when you were fourteen, and a million times more. he’s soft and gentle, pulling back between each kiss. your arms move around his neck, his wrap around your waist. you’ve never felt so secure in your life. 

but you have to pull away. “i— i…” you start. 

luke sits up. “i’m sorry,” he says. “i’m so sorry. fuck, that was so stupid of me. i’m so sorry, gods, what was i thinking?” he ran his hand through his hair. it was adorable. you reach out to his arm. (gods, he’s jacked). you wish you had allowed yourself to stare sooner. you’d been depriving yourself. 

“it’s okay, luke. it was…it was really nice.” it seems like such a cheap thing to say, and by the look on his face, it wasn’t all that convincing. “i’m not… this is just a lot to process.” 

“in what way?” he probes. you aren’t used to people asking questions. usually hannah just stares you down until the words come out of your mouth.

“i mean,” you try to word it in a way that won’t set him off. “it would be kind of shitty to jump into anything, right? after what happened with jack?”

luke gives a contemptuous look at the mention of his name. “no,” he scoffs. he’s still sitting up, looking down at you lying in his bed. you figure it might be a bad time to tell him how badly you want him to kiss you again. 

“well, i don’t know. doesn’t it look like i’m just hopping around from guy to guy?” 

“ok. first of all, i’m pretty sure there are only, like, four people who know about you and jack. second of all, at the risk of sounding like an absolute dick, aren’t you supposed to be in love with me or something?”

you gasp. “what the hell?”

he grins. “it’s just what i’ve heard. you know what the camp gossip mill is like.” 

you groan, hiding your face in your hands. “this is so not fair.”

and he laughs, he really laughs. “how is it not fair?” 

“you are such a dick. this is so embarrassing. i’m going to kill you.”

“you seem pretty content under those blankets for someone plotting a murder.” you look through your fingers. his smile is so, so, unbelievably cute. “how is this not fair?”

“because you totally know everything and i don’t know anything.” 

“okay. what to you want to know?”

“shut up. die. i hope you drown today.”

“are you really going to make me say it, jack-jack?”

“i hate you.”

“i like you.” you go quiet. “i really, really like you. i think i’ve had a crush on you since we were fourteen. and i fucking love you. not like we already say everyday. like i think i’m actually fucking in love with you.”

he lays down beside you. you’re facing away from him, so he traces swirls on your shoulder.

you turn to face him, and for a second he has the decency to look nervous. 

you narrow your eyes at him. “so how do you really know i’m not just in this for the sex?” and he bursts out laughing. and before you know it, you’re laughing with him. and he loves the way your eyelids almost close when you do. 

“i wouldn’t blame you if you were,” he grins.

“well, who are you hooking up with these days? i’ll have to see if you have good reviews.”

“good luck with that, it might be difficult.”

“what, like you’ve never hooked up with an aphrodite girl after a bonfire.”

he shakes his head, and you’re honestly stunned. luke castellan, the most gorgeous boy on long island, is a virgin? 

“i mean,” he starts. “it’s not like i haven’t had offers.” 

“oh, shut up, you asshole,” you try to turn away from him, but he wraps his arms around you, and at his next words you freeze. 

“but i was holding out hope that it would be with you.” 

fuck. that was really hot. 

you look up, into his eyes. “i hate you,” you roll your eyes.

“i love you,” he murmurs, his eyes on your lips.

this time when he kisses you, you’re never letting him go. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him atop you. it takes everything in you not to roll your hips into his, but you don’t stop yourself from reaching down his torso to find the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head, and running your hands along his stomach. fuck, you think for the second time that morning. he’s jacked. he smiles into the kiss, and you know you’re stroking his ego right alongside his abs. 

“so,” you say, biting your lip as his trace your jaw and neck. “what was that about ‘your girl’ earlier?”

you’re expecting a sly remark, a grin, or something. instead, he doesn’t hesitate—“be my girlfriend,” he almost moans. “please.” 

and you don’t have it in you to leave him waiting. 

“okay,” you whisper.

[norrizzandpia]

Hurt Me Once (OP81)

Summary: In which they just miss the childhood best friends to lovers trope.

Warnings: ANGSTTTT im so sorry ong this one’s REALLY rough so have fun!!!!

Note: i have a feeling i already know the answer but lmk if you want a part 2 lol

UPDATE: i made part 2

I’m sure it was nothing, but you never used to bring somebody else along. Used to be our thing, going to a movie then we’d wander home.

“We still on for tonight?” Y/n asked Oscar, the boy sitting on the couch as he furiously tapped away at his phone.

He threw a quick glance her way, nodding in a disregarded manner, “Yeah,”

Her response was hesitant. She knew he wasn’t listening to her, he hadn’t been for a considerable amount of time.

“Oscar,” She smiled, her voice slightly pleading.

With another useless glance, he asked, “Yes?”

“Are you hearing me?” She tried, fake smile struggling to stay put.

He nodded, annoyed, “Yes, I did. We’re still on for tonight at 8 PM. We’ll meet at the movie theater down at the corner. Do you need me to be any more specific?” He snapped, phone being tossed aggressively down onto the coffee table in front of him as his fiery eyes finally met hers.

She physically took a step back, surprised by his shift in demeanor, “No, it’s fine. I’ll see you.”

He didn’t respond as she turned on her heels and made a quick move for the door, mumbling some excuse about needing to go the grocery store.

They both knew she had gone the day before.

—

She could see her breath leaving her mouth as she walked toward the neon signs. London winters were always her favorite. With beautiful, straight-white snow, she felt a certain type of comfort when she could gaze out any window from anywhere in the city and be met with a picturesque view.

However, for once this season, her view was quite the opposite. As her feet brought her closer to the entrance of the theater, her eyes were able to make out Oscar, the man she was supposed to be meeting and the man she loved, standing next to a random woman she had never seen before.

Her stomach dropped when she heard the way he said her name and the way he laughed at her jokes, something he hadn’t done with Y/n in a long time.

It was as if she was invisible by the way she stood awkwardly beside them, “Hey,” She had to say in order to gain either one of their attention.

The woman was pulled from her ogling state, but Oscar stayed, longingly staring at someone Y/n had never met.

Her brown eyes bore into Y/n’s as she gave a tight-lipped smile, “Are you Y/n?”

Nodding slowly, Y/n’s eyes darted to Oscar’s, wishing for him to acknowledge her, “Yeah. I’m sorry if this is rude, but who are you?”

“This is Lily, Y/n.” Oscar mumbled, finally gracing his best friend with some sort of recognition.

Her mouth fell open in faux realization, “Oh, nice to meet you.”

The girl, Lily as she now knew, nodded before Oscar was ushering the two women in and pulling out their tickets.

“Were you going to tell me someone else was joining us?” Y/n asked a little later when Lily had gone to secure their seats in the old theater and the two best friends had agreed to gather snacks.

As he pulled out his wallet in preparation, almost as if he couldn’t wait to not be alone with her, Oscar shook his head in disbelief, “Didn’t know I needed to. Was this just supposed to be us?”

“It always has been.” She shot back, a little too pointededly to go unnoticed by Oscar.

His eyes whipped around to meet hers, “So? We never made a pact or anything that it always had to be. I thought it wouldn’t be a big deal, but apparently it is.” His annoyance only grew seemingly, making Y/n feel like she was never really wanted in the first place.

Nodding slowly, she pushed the disappointment down, “No, it’s okay. It’s fine. I get it.”

The words practically died in her throat as she didn’t want to know the answer, but she forced them out anyway, “Do you like her?”

“Why do you think I brought her?”

And just like that, Y/n’s spirit was killed.

—

All these little landmines, all these little things that one can read two ways. Like when you take every call outside, seems that I’ve forgotten how to read your face, but I know you too well to get it wrong. If you have to hurt me, hurt me once. If you have to end it, get it done. You have all these choices, I have none. You’re all that I have to lose. Couldn’t hurt you if I wanted to. I’ve decided on you.

“I thought that maybe we could do something soon. Just you and me, you know? I feel like we haven’t gotten to hangout just us lately.” She tried, finally getting up the nerve to bring it all to his attention.

“What do you mean?” He asked, mouth full with the leftovers from last night. A celebratory dinner she had made for him in order to commemorate his sprint race win, but had been squashed as she set the dish out when he called and told her he was going out with Lily instead.

She shrugged, “I just mean that I feel like we haven’t hung out without Lily lately and, as much as I love her,” She forced out, “I- I mean, Osc, I miss yo-”

“Hold on one second. I have to take this.” He rushed out, bringing a hand up as to stop Y/n in the middle of her heartfelt sentence.

“Lily!” He exclaimed as he left the room and went out onto the patio, a certain kind of excitement she hadn’t heard in a long time.

She watched, observed if you will, as his smile widened and his gestures got incredibly theatric. While, a year ago, Y/n would’ve been certain that those traits meant he was overjoyed by the moment taking place, but, now, it was almost as if she didn’t know him. Sure, she could be pretty confident that he was happy with talking to Lily, but there was a specific, deep feeling of uncertainty. A large hole in the middle of her stomach as she looked at the man she had grown to love years ago and felt conflicted. There was adoration and longing, but there was also an overwhelming sense of disappointment and loneliness. Disappointment because she didn’t know who this was, the Oscar who was her best friend and the Oscar she was so scarily in love with just wasn’t fully there anymore. Loneliness because, throughout it all, he had been there for her, but, as she sat on a stool with the empty one staring back at her, Y/n’s mind came to the understanding that this was how it would end.

All those times she would worry about Oscar and her growing apart were in vain as she realized that the way they would lose each other was because he lost interest in her.

The worst part, the most painful piece of the puzzle, was that there was nothing she could do. The day when he woke up and realized he had so many better people in his company than some random girl from his math class in boarding school was approaching.

The bowl of pasta sitting beside her, a symbol of the unrequited love, she hoped the day would come soon.

As hurtful as it was, she couldn’t sit by and watch as her best friend gradually found a replacement, a person who could better give him all the things she couldn’t.

—

If you keep it going then one by one the memories will start to blur. You’ll ruin the good ones, but I guess my photo album’s none of your concern. Don’t humor me with kindness. There’s nothing kind about a hundred small betrayals. If you love me at all, you’ll kill it now.

Y/n and Oscar had always been in love with each other. Everybody knew it. It was that cliche kind of story. Their moms were best friends, so, in turn, they were. Countless amounts of scrapbooks and photo albums of the two together with their mothers’ handwriting at the bottom saying how they’ll show this photo at their wedding. It was destined from the start, or so everyone thought.

“Your what?” His mother asked the night he had introduced Lily as his girlfriend.

Oscar smiled, slightly confused by the taken aback faces of his parents and siblings, “My girlfriend, mom.”

“Oh,” She resigned, her form falling back in her chair.

His father, Chris, slowly nodded, “Nice to meet you, Lily.”

The two shook hands, an awkward moment as his mother stayed frozen in her chair with the only girl on her mind being the one she had adored from the start, Y/n.

Silence mulled over for a moment before Nicole was getting out of seat and pulling herself together, hugging Lily and giving her son the traditional knowing look, although, this time, it was completely fake.

She didn’t understand what the boy was doing. She didn’t know anything at this point. She was confused and already heartbroken for the y/e/c eyed girl whom she knew was struggling.

“Wasn’t Y/n supposed to come tonight?” It hit her that her son’s best friend was planned to be with them, a seat for her at the table with serving sizes accommodated to fit the number of people coming for their dinner, her included.

Oscar’s face broke out into panic, “Oh my god, Y/n!”

Nicole’s eyes darkened as she watched it dawn on the couple they had forgotten to pick up the poor girl.

“Oscar,” She said sternly, giving him a knowing look and, this time, making sure everybody knew it was real.

Her arms went to her hips as she looked at her son in disappointment, “Do not tell me that you forgot to pick her up.”

His eyes searched for forgiveness, “I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Really. I-”

She put her hand up, silencing his rambles as she grabbed her keys and made her way to the door, “I’ve got it.”

—

Pulling up to her house, the woman clocked the way all the lights were out. No porch light or window light on as the house seemed to be eerily empty. Her feet took her up the stairs by 2’s as she hurried to assess the state of the girl, already knowing it couldn’t be good.

Knocking on the door, she heard nothing, so she knocked again. She continued this cycle until the foyer light finally came on and the door was opening, “Oscar, it’s okay. I underst- Mrs. Piastri?”

The woman, finally being faced with the fact that she didn’t quite know what to say, looked at Y/n as if the whole world had shattered around them.

“I’m sorry about him.” She started, thinking they could ease into the topic, but that proved to be the wrong decision as Y/n’s tears started.

Trying desperately to hold them back, keep them at bay somehow, she responded, “It’s okay.”

It was small and quiet, completely defeated, something Nicole felt unraged by knowing this was all at the hands of her own child.

The girl’s head hung low, the tissue in her hand coming up to her face to dab at the tears beginning to fall.

“Oh, honey,” Nicole whispered, rushing to the girl’s aid as she wrapped her up in a hug that brought Y/n back to her childhood when she would get hurt playing with Oscar and Nicole would be there to patch her up everytime.

While this is a bigger wound, Y/n knew Nicole would still stay. She always had and she always would. That was how they worked. Y/n would call her “Mrs. Piastri” like she had just met her and Nicole would be in her back corner, ready to pick her back up again when she failed to do it herself.

Closing the door behind them, Nicole winced at the sight of Y/n’s purse and jean jacket sitting on the bench beside the door, like she had been waiting for Oscar when he was never even going to come.

“I’m happy for him.” Y/n said, tears contradicting the statement in the worst way.

“You don’t have to be.” Nicole whispered, her hands cradling the girl’s head to her chest.

Pulling back, Y/n tried, “But, I am. I’m happy he found somebody. Am I happy that person isn’t me? Of course not!” She laughed dryily, “But, when did we ever really think he would love me back?”

Nicole scoffed, “Your whole lives! Your mom and I knew ever since you two were toddlers and Oscar forced me to buy flowers on Valentine’s Day, so he could properly ask you to be his valentine that he was always going to love you, whether you did or not.”

Y/n left her embrace, arms flailing about as she walked further into the house, “Well, that’s not true though! He doesn’t. Maybe he did before, but, now? No way. I mean, for God’s sake! He literally forgot about me!”

Nicole followed her, “I know, but, Y/n, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.”

Y/n turned around, a bewildered look on her face, “Are you crazy?! Of course it does! He’s dating someone. He’s happy with someone. Happy without me. I don’t do it for him anymore, so he’s forgotten about it all. I don’t mean the same things to him as I used to.”

Nicole sighed, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose, “Y/n, I don’t know what he’s doing, but I do know that he loves you. Always has. The way he feels about you isn’t forgettable. It won’t ever be.”

“Don’t do that.” She said as she plopped down onto the kitchen stool, the look of defeat returning.

Nicole shook her head, “Do what?”

“Indulge it. It’s already hard knowing he loves somebody else. I can’t take the idea that I once had him, that he once loved me, and I was too stupid to see it.” She said quietly.

The mother nodded, “So, is that it for you then? Are you done trying with him?”

Y/n lifted her head, meeting the gaze of her second mother, “Do I really have a choice? He’s already made up his mind.”

—

Slipping back into the house, Nicole felt disgusted as she heard the sounds of laughter from around the table. As Y/n broke down from being abandoned by the one steady person in her life, her son joked and enjoyed his life as if he wasn’t destroying someone else in expense.

Her movements were heard as the chatter died down and Chris’s voice boomed from the other room, “Honey? Is that you? Y/n with you?”

Her lone presence answered the second question when she waltzed in and no one trailed behind her.

“Was she not there?” Oscar inquired, Lily cozied up beside him.

Nicole couldn’t even look at her son as she quietly said, “No, she was.”

An uncomfortable silence accompanied the table at the insinuation, something that went straight over Lily’s head because of her lack of knowledge when it came to the situation.

“Oh, she just didn’t want to come anymore?” Oscar jabbed, unknowingly testing his mother.

Her gaze darted to her husband, “No, Oscar, she didn’t want to come.”

The use of his first name in such a hostile tone shut him up, giving Lily a confused look as he sat back.

Clearing his throat, Chris tried to mask the uneasiness, “So, what were you saying about that Silverstone?”

—

His steps took him into the kitchen after he had come home from dropping Lily back off at her house after dinner. He knew his mom was in there, the sound of dishes aggressively clanking around clued him in. She seemed in her own head, so he came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder, “Are you okay?”

She turned around and met him with such a disheartened look that Oscar’s heart dropped, “What are you doing?” She asked, completely distraught.

“I don’t understand,” He gave, his arms folding in front of his chest as he leaned back against the counter.

“You told me 2 months ago you were so in love with Y/n, so why are you with Lily?” Her hands resided on her hips as she tried to put together her son’s sequence of errors.

He groaned, “Mom, I told you not to bring that conversation up. When we talked about that, I was drunk. You know this. None of what I said was true. I wasn’t in the right mind after you had poured me too much wine at that family dinner.”

“None of what you said was true or none of what you said you wanted to be true?” She challenged, disregarding his other arguments.

He rolled his eyes, “I don’t want people thinking I love Y/n.”

“Why?!” She exclaimed, fed up with the way he was toying with her innocence.

He tilted his head, “Why?! Because if it got to her that I loved her, it would ruin the friendship we have. How can you not understand that?”

She let out a breath, “I do understand that, Osc, but you’re pushing her away just the same right now.”

Confusion flicked in his eyes as he mulled over her words for a split second, “No.”

She nodded, “Why do you think she didn’t want to come to dinner? Why do you think she stopped making an effort? Why do you think she’s stopped talking to this family? God, Oscar, why do you think she’s stopped trying to hangout with you and only you, without Lily?”

Her words struck a cord in his chest, an opening that caught him up with all his stupid mistakes, as she continued, “Forgetting to pick her up was the last straw, Osc. I sat with her for almost an hour as she cried about losing her best friend. She can’t do this with you anymore. You’ve torn her apart.”

He sat there, mouth agape, as the reality set in. He had been the worst person to her for too long and she had just taken it without a word. He had thrown her away because someone else had come along and distracted him from the pain of not being loved back only to find out that the distraction had set in motion his worst fear.

Finally, his body returned to the moment and he reached for his keys, muttering an apology to his mother as he ran out the door.

Getting in his car and speeding off, he hoped he hadn’t killed them yet.

—

If you have to hurt me, hurt me once. If you have to end it, get it done. You have all these choices, I have none. You’re all that I have to lose, couldn’t hurt you if I wanted to. I’ve decided on you. I’ve decided on you. And if I’m disappointed it’s cause you’re not the person I knew. If I had it my way I’d be kinder than you.

For the second time that night, pounding was heard on her front door. Groaning, Y/n looked in the mirror, wiping away at her tears and trying to make herself look presentable before reaching for the door handle.

“Mrs. Piastri, I think I just need to be alon-” She started, but drew blank when Oscar’s face stared back at her.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry.” His eyes pleaded with her to let him in, not literally, but figuratively.

Yet, she wasn’t ready for that as she began to shut the door, however her attempts failed when his foot wedged in the doorway.

“Just hear me out?” He begged, looking into her red eyes.

Sighing quietly, she let him in.

The two traveled to her couch, sitting on opposite sides so formally it could pass as a business agreement.

Transactional, emotionless.

He took a deep breath, buying time to try and figure out a way to explain away his mistakes, “I’ve neglected you and I’ve neglected our friendship. There’s no excuse for what I’ve done, how I’ve treated you. I’ve completely forgotten about you and how much you mean to me. I’m so sorry, Y/n. I don’t know how to make this up to you.”

Her dead stare made him fearful there was no coming back as she said, “Is that all you have to say?”

He nodded, “Yes,”

“Okay,” She got up and walked back to the door, “Then, there’s nothing more to say.”

He cocked his head, “What? No way, Y/n. That can’t just be it.”

“But, it is, Oscar. I can’t keep doing this with you. I won’t keep doing this with you.” She said, hand gripping the door knob as if it would ground her.

He shook his head, “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

She groaned as tears began to spill from her eyes and the fighting in her head went on, “I can’t keep loving you and having it backfire in my face.”

His world went quiet at her confession. Years of missed opportunities and mixed signals slapping him in the face as he watched her break down, something that told him this had been waying on her for the longest time.

“I need this to be over. I don’t want to look at you, be with you, anymore. I can’t wait my whole life for you to just wake up one day and say that you love me like I love you. It hurts too much, it’s unnecessary pain that I’m putting myself through for someone who doesn’t even care anymore! I don’t even know why you’re here right now! You’ve forgotten about me, leave it that way. Please, just leave me alone. I’ve put myself out there for so long, put myself in a vulnerable position at such a young age. I never even got a chance to know a life that didn’t revolve around you. I have no one else except for you, my family, your family, and your friends. I was stripped of a typical childhood because I was so obsessed with making you love me and look at where we are! I’ve got no one!”

“I’m not leaving you! That’s the opposite of what I’m trying to do!” He got up from the couch, stalking toward her.

She fired back, “That’s the problem! I need you to leave! I need to be able to exist without you! This has been years in the making, Oscar. I need to be independent. I need to be fine with being alone. With you in my life, I can’t do that. If you’re still a factor, I’ll never be able to move on. I have to fall out of love with you, Osc. And if you love me in the way you always have said you do, you’ll understand and you’ll let me go. I thought that you would get caught up in Lily enough to do it without thinking, but you’re here and you’re fighting, and it’s not wanted.”

As he stood in front of her, their tears synced, finding the same rhythm of leaving the eyes and falling down each cheek onto the floor. Oscar couldn’t believe what was unfolding in front of him. He knew this was his fault. If he had told her earlier how he felt she wouldn’t have gotten this idea and they wouldn’t be here, loosening the tight grip they had on the other.

His hand reached up to her arm, “But, I love you.”

His words seemed like they physically hurt her as she closed her eyes and shrugged his hand off, “You have a girlfriend, Oscar.”

“But, I love you.” He repeated more assertively.

Her eyes opened and they peered into his soul, “That doesn’t matter anymore. It’s too late for that.”

Her small hands pushed him toward the door she had somehow opened during their argument. He tried to fight them, push against them, but his body wouldn’t budge as he stumbled outside. Her arm braced on the door as she said, “Don’t say anything else. It’ll make things worse. Just go back to Lily and forget about us.”

With that, she slammed the door on his face, the sound of the lock turning haunted him. A cold reminder that there was no persuading her.

She was going to fall out of love with him whilst he laid awake in bed at night continuously, traitorously falling in love with the idea of her and what they could’ve been.

I decided on you.

[jakesduskwood]

even statues crumble if they're made to wait

Pairing: Jake x Fem!MC

Genre: Post-Episode 10 Duskwood, Post-Episode 1 Moonvale

Words: 8,916

Summary: It's been three months since the explosion in the mine. Three months since Hannah was found. And MC's accepted that Jake is never coming back. When she gets roped into another missing person's case, it makes for the perfect distraction. Jake is dead. It's fine. That is, until she finds herself on the phone with Alan Bloomgate who says he has something to show her. But it's fine. Jake is dead.

Until he's not.

EPISODE-1 MOONVALE SPOILERS AHEAD (MAYBE)!

[ A/N: Hello! :)

I know it's been a while since I've done this, but I finished Moonvale Episode 1 and if you've seen the ending (and used its Duskwood code), you know what happened and how excited I was to receive that bit of Duskwood. So, I took it and ran with it, and out came this extremely long fic. I did not proofread this as it took me literally almost 12 hours to write so it is completely and 100% me and my love for Jake and I hope you love it.

Side note: I suck with anything related to timelines, so I made one up on my own. I know Episode 1 of Moonvale takes place over the course of a day or two, but for the purpose of this fic, it made sense to make it longer, so it's not a typo, or me losing my mind, it's just the way my brain processed this.

Enjoy! :) ]

It’s been three months since the explosion in the mine.

Three months since Richy had been killed. Three months since Hannah was rescued. Three months since I had last spoken to Thomas or Cleo or Lilly or…or Jessy. I didn’t blame her then and I don’t blame her now. Any of them, really. I didn’t share the bond they had with each other. I wasn’t from Duskwood. It didn’t matter that we’d experienced a tragedy together—and yes, perhaps them more than me, but I loved Richy too. I had lost Richy too. And Jake—

But mostly, I think they just wanted to forget. To move on. They didn’t want to remember that their friend had been capable of…of that. And I was a constant reminder of that to them. So I understood why we didn’t necessarily talk anymore.

The one person I did keep in contact with from Duskwood, oddly enough, other than the occasional update from Alan Bloomgate, was Dan. We weren’t best friends or anything, but he allowed me to check in on our friends in a way that I didn’t know how to do with anyone else. Maybe because I thought he was the least affected among them. I knew he cared about Hannah, but he wasn’t to her what Thomas or Cleo or Lilly were. And he wasn’t to Richy what Jessy had been.

I’d learned from him that Thomas and Hannah had broken up. There was no bad blood, but Thomas hadn’t quite figured out how to accept the things he’d learned about his girlfriend when she’d been gone, and Hannah hadn’t quite figured out how to re-trust someone after Richy. Even if that person was Thomas. But I’d hoped they would find their way back to each other in the end.

I thought about reaching out to Jessy every once in a while—even just as an apology for everything that had happened. I’m sorry that Hannah was found at the expense of Richy. I’m sorry that he did this to you. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner. We should have. We should have. We should have. I miss you. But I never send it. I’m not all that sure she’d respond anyway.

Cleo and I were never all that close. She has her best friend back, so I think she’s probably as okay as she can be. Helping Hannah find a new kind of normal in a time where her childhood friend had kidnapped her in order to prove a point. I don’t know how you come back from that—I don’t know how you come back from knowing that you killed somebody at all.

I hadn’t found the courage to ask if somebody had told Hannah about Jake.

Not that I think it would matter anyway. I hadn’t heard from him since before the explosion in the mine, which was, like I said—three months ago. I waited the appropriate amount of time—twenty-five days—before I broke down and concluded that maybe he hadn’t survived. Which just piled a shit-ton of guilt onto my shoulders because it was supposed to be me in that mine. He had gone in place of me and now he was dead.

It was the only explanation that made sense. I was used to Jake disappearing for days at a time, but never as long as he had been now. And he didn’t seem like the type to tell me he loved me and then leave without a single explanation. Not unless he had to. But it had been three months and as much as I missed him, as much as my chest ached with the thought that we would never eat Chinese food out of shitty motels and have that on-the-run ending we talked about, I had accepted that he wasn’t coming back.

I wonder if he had known about Richy or if he had died still thinking Michael Hanson was the one who had kidnapped Hannah. I wonder if his last thoughts were of me. Maybe it’s selfish, but I kind of hope they were, because I’m pretty sure I’ll think about him for the rest of my life.

I wonder what it would have felt like to run my hands through his hair. To kiss him. To spend every waking moment with him and know it was because I loved him. Because I would have. Talking to Jake became about more than just finding Hannah. It became a part of my day I looked forward to more than anything else. He confided in me in a way that told me he never had with anyone, maybe not even Hannah, and I needed that from somebody. I needed somebody to trust in me the way that Jake did. I needed somebody to love me the way that Jake did.

It was strange—and maybe a little ironic—the thought that something so beautiful could come out of something so tragic.

Anyway, my point is: it’s been a long couple of months. Of thinking about my friends. Of thinking about Jake. Of wondering if I should have done things differently. I should have gone to Duskwood to help. Not even with the mine, but sooner. I could have. I could’ve gone when Jessy was attacked on the way home. I could’ve gone when the group made plans to cut out of town and hide away in the house Richy had found. Selfishly, I should have. In that moment, when they were settled around the fire and Lilly called me, I had never remembered wanting anything more. I should have grabbed Jake—metaphorically, maybe even literally—and rode it out with them to the end.

I don’t stop missing them after three months. Of wishing things could have been different. Wishing I could have done more. But exactly ninety-five days after the explosion in the mine, seventy days since I had accepted that Jake was never coming back, twenty-two days since I had last heard from anybody from Duskwood (Dan included), my phone dings with a new message.

And the cycle starts all over again.

It’s somebody named Eric, who claims he needs my help to find his friend Adam, who disappeared while he was waiting for a ride in someplace called Redlog Pines. And much like with Duskwood, I have never heard of Redlog, and the case reminds me way too much of Thomas’ first message to me, so much that it makes my chest ache, but I can’t say no because there’s somebody missing, and if I’d say no the first time, God knows where Hannah would be.

So, I say yes, and I help out where I can, and Eric decides he needs to bring about four more friends in on his little plan and I try my best to stay emotionally unattached because I remember everything that happened the last time and I can’t go through that again. I offer up information when I can and keep my words short and careful because I’m not ready to get attached to somebody else I know I might never meet.

I know how this ends.

Two days in, Ash, one of Eric’s friends, brings up my Duskwood past and the unhealed wound I’ve been trying to mend breaks open again. She asks about Richy, and about the mine, and then because I’m me and I can’t help myself, I tell her about Jake. She tells me the news never mentioned another body and I shove that thought to the back of my head because hoping for something that will never come true will kill me.

Four days into Adam’s disappearance, and the police not giving a shit—as Charlie, somebody who reminds me far too much of Richy for comfort, points out—my phone beeps with an incoming call from somebody I haven’t spoken to in a while.

“Go for [MC].” I answer my phone.

Ever since Hannah had been found in the mine and Jake had…you know, my phone had been more silent than I’d gotten used to. Until this new case. But even that—it was only a few days old and I didn’t want to go down the same path with them that I did with my friends in Duskwood. We didn’t really know each other that long, sure—even though sometimes it’d felt like it—but it felt like I’d finally been a part of something. Like, I had found these people who had chosen me for me.

And originally, maybe they had. Maybe they’d had every intention of keeping me around, but then Richy was the Man Without A Face and Alan Bloomgate had rescued Hannah and nothing was the same as it had been when we’d met each other. We knew too many secrets about each other by the time the town settled. Secrets we would have to take to the grave.

Or maybe I’m losing my mind a bit and I had really only been a means to an end.

Either way.

“Alan?” I raise my voice when there’s nothing but breathing on the other end of the line. “Did you mean to call me?”

His tone is clipped. “I found something.”

“You found something.” I repeat.

My heart clenches. For all I know, it might fall into my stomach. As far I know, from watching the news, from what Ash told me, Jake’s body was never found. Richy’s was. Or what was left of him to find, anyway. I had assumed that there just hadn’t been enough of Jake left. The thought left me nauseous, but it was better than hoping for something I knew I could never have.

“I’m sending it to your phone now.” He responds. “Let me know what you think of this.”

And then he hangs up.

That was a riveting conversation, I think as my phone dings with a message. I do my best to ignore my other messages—contacts from Duskwood I’m still not ready to acknowledge—and click Alan Bloomgate. He sent me a video that looks like—oh God.

Immediately, I’m overcome with emotion as an all-too-familiar forest pops up on my phone. It’s a video of Alan’s bodycam footage. He’s searching the Duskwood forest. A forest I’ve seen too many times in the background of other video calls.

I watch as he stumbles upon an object that’s too dark to make out at first. When he gets closer, it’s clear that it’s a backpack. It’s simple. Black. Nothing about it that screams this is mine and I left it here about anybody in particular. You stupid, stupid idiot, I tell my heart when it rattles against my chest in hope. He’s dead.

Alan stands and treks away from the backpack—I want to scream at him to go back, to open it and look through it and tell me if it’s what my heart aches to believe, but I can’t, because this is a video and I’m simply watching with wide eyes, waiting for…for something. But then. But then, he moves further into the forest and I watch as he stumbles upon an object that makes my knees tremble and tears rush to my eyes and my hands shake. A black hoodie. It looks like it’s been through hell, with holes scattered up the sleeves and dirt cakes into the hood, but it’s unmistakably his.

And then—Alan lifts the hood and picks up something that makes me sink to my knees with a sob that wracks my entire frame. Because I’m staring at Jake’s mask. The mask he doesn’t go anywhere without. The mask that protects him. And so my relief is short-lived, because I realize that even if he’s alive—which seems like a very big possibility at this point—he’s alive without the things that he needs to survive.

And then the anger kicks in. Because if he’s been alive, on his own, for three months—why has he not contacted me? Unless he survived the mine but he didn’t survive the after. But that didn’t make any sense. So, okay, he wasn’t dead. But that didn’t make any sense either. He told me he wouldn’t let them catch him. Because catching that meant he would be apart from me. Did something happen that prevented him from being able to reach out and tell me he was at least okay? A quick text that said didn’t die in the explosion in the mine, you don’t need to mourn me, by the way, going off radar for another year. Did he think I would have given up on him?

I wipe my eyes and shoot a message to Alan.

ME: Recently?? Did nobody search the forests before?      

ALAN: Searched the forests for what, [MC]? The logical assumption seemed to be that if anybody was inside the mine when Richy set the fire, they would have perished alongside him. Officers were stationed outside every known entrance and exit. Besides, after the story you and your friends spun around this town, do you think anybody would have gone back into its forests?

ME: But it’s possible?

ALAN: I would say these items had been there for some time. But I would say it is likely he ditched them when he fled the mine, yes.

Another sob tears through my throat. Jake is alive. I don’t know quite what that means for us as of now, but I know it’s the best news I’ve heard since Hannah was found. Jake is alive. He’s out there somewhere. And even if it’s been three months, and even if I’m a little bit mad at him right now, I know that if he was here, I would throw my arms around his neck and hold on to him until someone dragged me off, and even then—I would fight kicking and screaming.

I close out of my messages with Alan and pull up a conversation I haven’t had the heart to look at in quite some time.

ME: Jake’s alive.

LILLY: …

LILLY: Have you spoken to him?

ME: Alan called. He found some of Jake’s things in Duskwood. I don’t know a lot of details. But I know he made it out of the mine.

Lilly types for a long while, but she doesn’t respond. I don’t take it personally. I think it’s probably hard for her to be happy that her brother’s okay while also trying to accept that her sister may never be okay again. Her sister, who had once-upon-a-time been kind-of-sort-of in love with their brother she didn’t know she had. I think that would probably mess with any family’s heads. And on top of all that, you throw in manslaughter and a kidnapping. I wouldn’t wish anybody, not even my worst enemy, to have had to go through what the Donforts had.

When it becomes adamant that Lilly isn’t going to respond, I start scrolling through messages with the rest of the group in Duskwood. I click on Jessy. I’m here if you need me. That had been the last thing I sent to her, a couple of days after Richy’s death. She hadn’t responded. I click out of Jessy’s contact and click on Thomas’ instead. Thank you for everything. That had been his last message to me after we found Hannah. I’d liked it. I hadn’t expected at the time it would be the last thing we’d ever say to each other. I click out of Thomas’ and click on Richy. So, you want to turn yourself in? I’d asked. That was before he called me. Before he lit a match and burned himself and the mine to the ground. Some people would call that heroic. I mostly call him a coward.

I click on Jake’s name. It’s been a while since I read messages between the two of us. Maybe before I had accepted—thought—he was dead. In that twenty-five-day period when I’d hoped with all I’d had that he would come back. I love you. That was the last message he sent me. I’d responded with I love you too, Jake. Then, four days later: Are you okay? A week later: Jake, please, you’re starting to scare me. I know you said you would contact when you could, but it’s been a week. After twenty-five days, when I had finally accepted our fate, I’d sent one final message: I hope you know that I love you, and I will always care about you, but I think it’s time for me to move on. I’m so sorry that I sent you into the mine. It should have been me. And I will probably feel the guilt from that for the rest of my life. Thank you for everything. Take care of yourself, wherever you are.

After that, I had closed out of our messages and hadn’t looked back. Partly because I couldn’t bear the pain of it. It felt like I had given up on him. I hadn’t—if I had thought for a second that he was alive, if I knew then what I know now, I would have never sent that message. But holding out hope for somebody who I thought was a ghost at the time? That was slowly killing me.

It’s only then that I notice the screen flickering. Much like the way it used to whenever Jake would hack into my phone. I don’t think he’s much in the mood to be hacking right now, but somehow, I know it’s him. When had he done this? Recently? If I had opened our messages, would I have seen this ten—twenty—even fifty days ago? It hadn’t looked like this the last time I texted him. Did he see my last message about needing to move on? Was that why he hadn’t reached out to tell me that he was okay? Because he thought I was moving on happily without him?

No, my brain supplies. He wouldn’t. He would reach out anyway, because he knows how much the thought of him not being okay would have destroyed you.

The screen flickers once more and then a message pops up, bright and blue-tinted and clear as day on my phone.

[MC]

I WILL FIND YOU

And the world around me shifts.

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

Maybe it sounds crazy, considering I’ve never seen his face before, but I always thought that if I’d ran into Jake one day, maybe on the street or at one of those motels he stayed at or maybe even in Duskwood, surrounded by all our friends, I would know it was him. I would, because it’s him, and it’s me, and we’re the only two people who understand each other quite the way we do.

I still believe that.

I believe it when I book my flight to Duskwood (or rather, twenty miles outside of town, which is the closest airport). I believe it when I board the airplane and find a seat next to a mother with her screaming child and when I shoot off a quick text to Eric to let him know I’ll be MIA for the next few hours, but to message me if he needs anything—and I think about how much easier this case would probably be to solve if we had Jake.

Maybe it would have been harder to find Hannah without me, but I know damn well they would’ve never found her without Jake.

Dan picks me up from the airport. I haven’t told the others yet. Something about it felt off—like I shouldn’t message them and say hey, I know we haven’t spoken in a while, but I’m booking a flight to look into why my maybe-slash-not-really boyfriend left his belongings in a forest we really wish we could forget about, and by the way, can I crash at your place?

It’s quiet on the car ride back into town. I’m looking through my messages from Eric and the group from Redlog Pines and thinking about how I’m Duskwood with this group and I want so badly to laugh because it’s ironic, but Dan wouldn’t understand. He might just call me crazy. Better yet, he would ask how I manage to get myself into these situations, and really, I don’t have an answer for him.

“How have you been?” I ask, just to break the tension, as Charlie, in my messages, tries to persuade his friends to head back into that creepy cave in the middle of the forest. He’s going to get someone killed, I think.

Dan looks over at me. “Are you still with Hackerman?”

My chest squeezes. “His name is Jake, Dan. And we were never really together.”

“Hm.” He nods like he doesn’t quite believe me. “You already know mostly everything that’s been happening here. Thomas and Hannah called it quits. They say it was some mutual decision, but it’s hard to find them in the same room together. Jessy hasn’t been out with us since. I think we remind her too much of Richy. The group’s all changed.”

“And you?” I ask.

He gives me a cheshire-like grin that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’m always the same.”

We make it to Duskwood just as the sun’s going down. Much too late for me to try and trek through the forest and retrace the steps Jake might have taken that night. Not that I think it would help give me any clues as to where he might have gone, but mostly because I wonder if it will make me feel closer to him. We’ve never been in the same place before, and even if he’s not there now—he once was.

“Can you drop me at the police station?”

Dan blinks. “The police station.”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“We answered their questions for weeks, [MC]. I don’t think anything you have to tell them at this point is going to help. The investigation’s closed. Everybody knows Richy did it. He died with the fire in the mine. Everybody’s trying to move on from that.” He works his jaw. “Did you come here to open old wounds after all this time?”

I try not to show the hurt look on my face. “This isn’t about Richy. Look, Alan called me. He asked if I could look at some things. I figured it was better for me to do it in person. That’s it. Nothing to do with Richy. Nothing to do with Jessy. Nothing to do with you.”

He sighs, and I’m not entirely sure he’s going to abide by my wishes until we pull in front of a tiny building—tinier than most—that says Duskwood Police on the sign. Duskwood must not have that much crime. Well, not until this, I suppose.

“Thank you.” I tell him as I reach over to undo my seatbelt and climb out of the car. “This is a nice ride, by the way.”

He raises a hand in some mock-salute. “Need me to pick you up?”

“Nah.” I shake my head. “Think I’ll explore the town for a little bit.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugs and then he’s off.

I square my shoulders and take a deep breath before opening the door to the police station. It wasn’t like Alan asked me to come down here. He hadn’t. Even during the investigation into Richy’s death and Hannah’s kidnapping, when he questioned us, he never asked me to come to Duskwood. We’d done way too many video calls and phone calls and at one point, I had asked if he thought it would be easier for me to come to Duskwood, to which he responded back, are you ready for that?

No, I hadn’t been. I’m not even so sure I was now. But knowing that Jake was alive, that here was the last place was, I had to try.

“Can I help you?” The woman at the front desk asks.

I clear my throat. “I was wondering if I could speak to Alan Bloomgate. I’m one of—I was involved in the Hannah Donfort case. My name is [MC].”

Her eyes widen. “Give me a moment.” She stands and heads to some back office—which looks to me more like a closet—and then returns with a clipped smile. “He’ll be right out.”

Apparently, she isn’t lying, because not two minutes later, Alan is stepping out from the same door and staring me down. I hold his gaze and hope it says that I’m not here to argue. I will tell him my truth, but only my truth, not Hannah’s, not Jake’s, not anybody else’s.

“I was wondering when I would see you.” He says.

I shrug one shoulder. “Isn’t a few months later better than never?”

“Let’s go into my office.” He says, and leads me around the desk and back into the closet space he had come out of. He sits behind the desk and motions for me to take a seat opposite him. “I’m just going to guess you’re not here to talk about Miss Donfort.”

“I want to see them.” I tell him. “His things. I want to see them for myself. And whatever you want from me in return, I’ll give to you.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game here, [MC].”

“He isn’t a game to me.” I snap back and then sit back and try to relax. “I appreciate that you called me. It’s—I helped you find Hannah. I would do it again. Even with knowing the things that we do now, I would do it all again. That’s how much that group means to me. That’s how much he means to me. I’m not asking you to break any rules or to lie for him or to—to let him hide in your basement for the next five years. I’m just asking you to show me what you found.”

He stares me down for a moment. Then, he sighs, says “wait here for a minute” and disappears to another room. When he comes back, it’s with an evidence bag in his hand filled with the objects I saw on his bodycam footage. My breath hitches in my throat.

“I can’t let you touch them.” He says as he lays them in front of me.

I stare into the eyes of the mask. “Did you tell anybody that he’s alive?”

“I don’t know that he’s alive,” is all the answer he gives, which is an answer to my question. I slide my gaze down to the black hoodie, to the dirtied sleeves and muddy hood, and think about the fact that Jake wore this. I’m so close to him.

And yet I’ve never been further away from him.

“Thank you.” I tell him. “For—for this. And for listening to me about Hannah. If you hadn’t, I—I don’t know what would have happened. How much longer he would have gone on for. If he would have ever stopped.”

Alan’s silent for a minute. Then, he clears his throat. “You know, it was strange to me. Both Hannah and yourself swore to me that neither of you knew the other.”

“I don’t.” I swear.

It was one of the (albeit many) things that didn’t make sense to me. How Hannah got a hold of my number. How she sent it to Thomas. She’d told Alan she hadn’t really remembered texting him my number at all.

“I believe you.” He reassures. “I just think it’s strange. One mistake, if you can call it that, and you throw yourself into a missing persons case to help a stranger.”

“They’re not strangers.” Even though Hannah is kind of still a stranger.

“But they were.” Alan reasons. “You had no reason to say yes to helping Thomas. I doubt anybody would have held it against you if you turned the other way. But you decided to follow this until the end. To make sure they found Hannah. And you care about them. Maybe that’s why I find that I’m more lenient with you than maybe I should be. Why you’re sitting across from me right now calling the shots. Why I’m not asking you about the hacker.”

“I wouldn’t tell you if you did.” I look him in the eye so he knows I’m telling the truth.

He returns my gaze. “Maybe that’s the other reason.”

“Hm.” I acknowledge before I turn my gaze away—from him, from the objects that I know belong to Jake and it takes everything in me not to snatch them up and run. “Well. Thank you for allowing me to steal some of your time. For letting me—” I cut myself off before I say something that makes me break down in a fit of tears in front of him. “—just thank you.”

Leaving the station is easier than coming in. I’m still not any closer to knowing where Jake is than I was when I arrived here, but there’s a comfort in knowing he walked these streets. I wonder what he would think if he knew I was here. He hadn’t wanted me to come to Duskwood when everything was happening…but now that it was over, would he be happy that I was here? That I had come to Duskwood to piece together where he might have gone? Would he track my location and come to find me and…or was I grasping at straws?

It felt like I had just gotten him back. Not really, not entirely…but knowing that he was alive, that he was out there somewhere, maybe thinking of me and looking for ways to come back, to live the life we talked about when he asked me if I was sure…that was worth it. The thought that we could maybe someday have that—even if it was a twenty percent chance.

I check my phone again to see a new message from Ash. She’s asking me if I’ve heard from Charlie in the last few hours. Apparently, he’s AWOL, and I want to help, really, but…it doesn’t really feel like that’s where I am at the moment. Not just physically—obviously—but mentally. We got lucky with Hannah. And that was really only because we had Jake. Adam didn’t have a Jake. Or…maybe he did and I just hadn’t met him yet. But I already had a Jake and I didn’t want another one.

Maybe—if I found him, I could convince him to help. That was a big maybe. Not because I thought Jake would say no. He would say yes to anything I asked of him. The maybe was whether or not I could find him. More likely, the maybe was whether or not he would find me.

Three months ago, I would have been able to come to Duskwood and have no shortage of things I wanted to do and people I wanted to see. Now, as I stand outside Duskwood’s police station, I feel nothing but loneliness. Nobody knows I’m here. I could pass Thomas on the street and he wouldn’t even know it. I could run into Jessy at the library and she would walk by me without even a second thought. Why would they? I hadn’t told them I was here.

So, with nothing left to do, I walked. Toward the town center. Toward the library that Jessy showed me on our walk through Duskwood. Toward the Rainbow Café where I knew that Cleo and Hannah had spent a lot of their time. Toward the Black Swan. Toward—

Ah, what the hell.

I had nothing better to do and The Aurora seemed like a great place to drown my sorrows. To think about my next steps. To figure out—now that I was in Duskwood—what I planned to do. The thing about Jake being so secretive (and on the run) was that I couldn’t retrace his steps. I wasn’t able to ask if anyone had seen him. One, because he would make sure nobody had. And two, because three months was a long time to forget somebody’s face if you didn’t know who you were looking for.

I pull open the door to the bar and step inside. Immediately, I’m hit with the stench of whiskey and a handful of chatter. Duskwood’s a small town. And The Aurora definitely proves it. The bartenders move melodically around each other, serving patrons on the other side of the bar. If you walk down further, there’s a handful of tables.

And dead in the center is a table with my friends. Or, some of them. Dan and Cleo and Lilly. Could I still call them my friends? Ex-friends, maybe? Acquaintances? I didn’t know what they were. Or how to address them. It wasn’t like we had gotten into a fight. We didn’t stop talking for any reason other than that we did. We stopped talking.

I make a beeline for the bar to avoid a confrontation and plant myself on one of the stools. One of the bartenders—a girl cute with bleach blonde hair and brown Bambi eyes—asks what I want and I channel my inner Dan to order a whiskey—neat.

Looking over my shoulder, I focus on the table of them. On Lilly, who’s smiling at something Cleo said. On Dan, who’s the only one of them who actually knows I’m here. But even he’s focused on the conversation they’re having. It’s strange—to see Dan a part of something I’m not sure he would have been before. It’s nice.

“[MC]?”

I turn my head away from the table of my friends and focus my attention across the bar on someone I should’ve expected to see. “Phil.”

“I thought I recognized your voice from when we talked.” He smiles. “I wasn’t sure, but I saw you staring longingly at them—” He nods towards Dan and Cleo and Lilly. “—and I knew. What brings you around here? I expected you to show up maybe a few months ago, but by now, I thought you’d moved on without us.”

I was tired of the words move on. Like I’d had a choice. Like the people from this town might open their arms and welcome me back into their lives. So I’d been part of the group who’d saved Hannah Donfort. So had a lot of people. It didn’t make me special and everyone here knew it.

I offer him a smile in return. “I’m looking for somebody.”

“Anybody I know?” He asks.

I shake my head. “Nah. At least nobody you would recognize.” I pause. “How’s Jessy?”

“She’s—Jessy.” He answers, like that is an answer. “I don’t know if she’ll ever really be okay with the way things happened with Richy. I wouldn’t expect her to. Obviously. But I don’t know. I think I just thought she would have gone back to her normal life by now. And then I remember that most of her life revolved around him. He was her best friend. She worked for him. And I’m trying to be patient about that. But—” He shakes his head. “Maybe you should talk to her.”

“She doesn’t know I’m in town.”

“Okay.” He hums. “So, you’re not in town for my sister. And you’re not in town for your group of friends because they’re over there and you look like you’d rather be anywhere else. There’s always Hannah, but I don’t think you knew her that well. Or at all. Would I be right to assume this is about a certain hacker who helped to find Hannah?”

“He didn’t help find Hannah.” I defend. “He was the entire reason we found Hannah. I would have never been able to do it on my own. Even with the others’ help. He’s the only reason we found out about—” I pause before I say something I maybe shouldn’t. “It doesn’t matter. He’s the only reason we found her. Everything I did was just dumb luck.”

“That wasn’t what the news said.” A voice cuts in and I turn my attention from Phil to focus on the stranger that slides into the seat beside me. Not too close—a couple inches away. I don’t recognize him. I don’t know him. But I don’t know every person in Duskwood. Maybe a total of like nine or ten. “I’m sorry to interrupt. But I heard you had a lot to do with finding Hannah Donfort. The news said you were some kind of hero.”

I offer him a tight smile. “That’s nice of them. But…if they knew my—friend—knew what he did to find her, I don’t think I would be as much of a hero as everybody says.”

“That’s noble.” He says, eyes meeting mine, and it strikes me at once how handsome he is. He has dark hair. Bright green eyes. Focus, [MC]. I scold. You have a…a someone.

My phone buzzes.

ERIC SENT A PHOTO.

ERIC: What do you make of this?

I sigh and click on the photo. It’s of—some object. Much like the one that was addressed to me on the envelope in Adam’s glove compartment. The image is a bit different—but I don’t know enough about what it means to have an answer as to why.

ME: Was this one addressed to me?

ERIC: Nope. Ash.

“Are you okay?” Phil asks.

I clear my throat. “I’m a popular person—apparently.” A thought strikes. “Have you ever heard of a place called Redlog Pines?”

Phil frowns. “No.”

I turn to look at the stranger. “You?”

“Redlog Pines is a small town about two hundred miles north of Duskwood.” He answers. “Known for their wooded forests, much like Duskwood.”

“Why are you looking into a place with forests as creepy as ours?” Phil asks, incredulously. “Didn’t you get enough of that with Hannah’s case?”

“Yeah.” I sigh. “You would think.”

“Hey, [MC]!”

I wince at the sound of Dan’s voice. Shooting Phil a look that screams please help me to which he shakes his head amusedly, I turn and plaster on a fake smile as I take in the shocked looks on Cleo and Lilly’s faces. I should have known better than to come to The Aurora and talk to Phil when the three of them were having a conversation across the room. I should have known they would sooner or later see me. I just hoped it was later.

“Hey.” I hop off my stool and make my way across the bar to them. “It’s, uh, fancy seeing the three of you here.”

“What are you doing here?” Cleo asks.

“I haven’t really figured that out.” My eyes meet Lilly’s. “It sounds crazy to say it out loud. But I was hoping that—I’m not sure if Lilly told you—”

“That Jake’s alive.” Cleo nods. “None of us ever really thought he wasn’t.”

I don’t think she means it as a dig—but it still feels like one. Like she’s saying you gave up on him you gave up on him you gave up on him even though she’s not and she didn’t really know him and the only person I can talk to at this table who even might understand is Lilly and even—Jake didn’t confide in her the way he did me.

“Right.” I acknowledge. “So I thought that maybe if I came here, I could trace his steps from when he was here and—I haven’t really thought that far ahead. It’s not like I thought he left me any clues in the forest or anything like that. I don’t think he expected me to be here. He hadn’t wanted me to be the last time we talked. But that was before everything happened.”

Lilly’s eyes track behind me. “Does Jake still have Nymos on your phone?”

“Uh.” I furrow my brows. “I think so. I hadn’t heard from him in a while, but I went back and read through our messages after I talked to Alan and…my phone glitched, like it used to when Jake had hacked it. And then this message appeared on my screen.”

“And by chance, can Nymos track your location?”

“What—” I shake my head. “Maybe. I don’t think I ever really asked him. It didn’t seem necessary at the time.”

“Uh huh.” She focuses on me once more. “Let’s say, for one minute, that Jake has access to Nymos who has access to your location.”

Cleo must catch onto something I’m not sure of. “Jake didn’t want you here.”

“Uh, thank you?”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” She waves me off. “He didn’t want you in Duskwood. He had been adamant about that when we were talking about the mine. That’s why he went. If you showed up in Duskwood—”

“Nymos would have alerted him.” Dan finishes.

“Okay…” I’m not entirely sure I’m on the same page as them. “So—you think that Jake found out when I came to Duskwood.”

“Correct.” Lilly beams like she just solved life’s greatest mystery.

“And you think he would—come find me?”

She smiles sympathetically at me—like I’m the world’s biggest idiot for not realizing what she has been trying to say sooner. “I think he already has.”

“You think Jake’s in Duskwood.” I deadpan.

“[MC].” Cleo grabs my shoulders and turns me around. “We think he’s in this bar.”

Stranger, as I had nicknamed him—AKA the guy sitting beside me at the bar, with Phil and Redlog Pines (which he probably only knew about because of me) and the whole Hannah being kidnapped and not taking any of the credit thing—was looking back at me. So was Phil. Like they thought I was the crazy one. Like it would’ve been so hard for him to look and me and say it’s me or anything that might have clued me into the fact that—

“Jake?” I whisper, because I’ve lost quite a bit of sleep over the past couple of months and I’m not one hundred percent sure what—or who—I’m seeing is real. “Are you here?”

He tilts his head and smiles at me. Actually smiles. A bit shyly, like it’s something he’s not used to doing, but maybe like it’s something he could get used to. And I think about how terrible I probably look right now because I’m not wearing makeup and my hair is tousled from constantly pulling at it and my clothes are wrinkled from the plane and the police station and I look like a mess. But our relationship has never been about looks. Clearly. I didn’t even know the person I’d been talking to until Lilly and Cleo and even Dan pointed out the obvious.

“If I—” I close my eyes and open them again. Nope. Still there. “I need you to still be there by the time I reach you because it’s been a—” I sniffle. “—it’s been a rough few months and I don’t think I could handle you disappearing again.”

He stands from the stool he was sitting on and shuffles his feet. Like he’s not quite sure where he’s supposed to stand. If he thinks about moving, I’ll tackle him onto the floor of The Aurora and then apologize to Phil later. It feels like everything I wanted is right here in front of me. And I’m scared to death that it’s not real.

“What’s one thing you would take with you if you were stranded on an island?”

His smile stretches. “My computer.”

And that—that’s what breaks me. I think I might start blubbering like an idiot but I don’t remember the time it takes for me to cross the measly twenty feet between us. All I remember is grabbing his black hoodie—because of course—and dragging him to me. I don’t kiss him, despite how much I want to, because I don’t want our first kiss to be tainted with my snot and tears. Instead, I bury my face in his collarbone and wrap my arms around his neck and hold on for dear life.

Because I can. Because he isn’t dead.

“Y—You’re here.” I pull back and cup his face with my hands. “How are you here?”

“You came to Duskwood.” He responds, and then—hesitantly—he presses his lips to my forehead in a kiss. “Alan called you.”

“He found your things in the forest.” I whisper back. “He said they’d been there a while. The police hadn’t searched the forest because they assume you died in the mine.”

“They aren’t looking for me here.” He confirms. “I didn’t expect it to take so long for them to find my belongings, but I anticipated that you would find out. At the time, it wasn’t safe for me to reach out and contact you. They kept on my trail for a while before they assumed I died in the mine with Richy.”

“Why didn’t you contact me then?” I ask. “Is it because of what I last messaged you? I didn’t mean it—I swear, I thought you were dead. If I had known you were alive, I would have waited, however long it took. I wasn’t trying to give up on you.”

“Hey.” He places both hands on either side of my face. “I know. I know that, [MC]. That was never why I didn’t reach out to you. I know you said you wanted this life with me. But I didn’t want that for you. But I was selfish. I couldn’t let you go. So I was trying to find a way to make both of those things true. But I was always coming back to you.”

“And did you?”

“Come back to you?” He asks.

I sniffle. “Find a way to make both of those things true.”

“Not entirely.” He admits. “Nymos alerted me you had boarded a plane headed in the direction of Duskwood and I—” He shook his head. “I knew I would find you here.”

“You could have found me sooner.”

He lets go of my face and he feels like he takes my skin with him. “It wasn’t that easy.”

“It could have been.” I demand.

I’m angry again. Now that I know he’s alive and okay and that he could have found me, I’m angry that he didn’t. I told him I would choose that life with him. Over and over and over. He didn’t need to make the decision for me. He didn’t need to try and protect me. And yes, maybe the fact that he did makes my heart flutter a tiny little bit, but that’s besides the point.

“I told you before you left me.” I tell him and I’m aware it sounds like we’ve been in a relationship for five years and I’m aware that everybody in here is watching and listening in on our conversation and they probably all know we’re who we are, two people involved in helping to find the kidnapped Hannah Donfort, and maybe that’s all we’ll ever be in this town. But I would rather be the girl who found Hannah Donfort in Duskwood with him than be me anywhere else. “You told me you would let me go with you.”

“That was before I told you I loved you.”

My heart skips a beat. It screams I love you I love you I love you back, but I say— “What does that have to do with anything?”

He looks somewhat amused. Like he knows I would never hold it against him. It’s clear to both of us that I wouldn’t because even though I’m glaring up at him with my furrowed eyebrows and my lips pouted, I’m still pressed tightly against him. His hands—even though they’ve moved from my face—are now resting on my hips. Pulling my tighter to him. There’s no space in between us. If it was up to me, I’m pretty sure there never would be again.

“[MC].” He says, and oh god I wish he would say my name every day for the rest of his life. “Have I—in the short time we have known each other—ever struck you as the type of person who says I love you? But with you…” His words are a whisper against my lips. “It’s easy to fall back into old emotions with you.”

“I want to be angry with you.” I tell him.

He shakes his head. “No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t.” I agree. “But I might be if you don’t kiss me.”

He brought one finger underneath my chin and tilted it up until our lips were separated by a fraction of an inch. My eyelids fluttered. I didn’t care that everyone in here was about to see just how much Jake meant to be. I didn’t care because I had waited too long for this. And then—just as I’m leaning toward him to press our lips together, he whispers— “[MC]?”

“Hm.” I acknowledge.

“Who’s Eric?”

My eyelids crack open and I shove at his chest. “That’s what you’re worried about right now? Here I am, in front of you, covered in snot and tears and who-knows-what-else because you’re here right now, and you’re worried about some guy I don’t even know?”

“Who’s Eric?” He repeats.

“Ugh.” I run my hands through my hair and take a step back. “I don’t know. He’s the other side of Thomas or whatever you want to call him. If we lived in a different town.” I glare back at him and try not to admit that I think his jealous side is a little cute. “He messaged me. Thought I picked up his friend from some parking lot and I didn’t, but his friend sent him my number, and it was Hannah all over again. I’m trying to help them.”

“This Adam has been sending you a lot of videos.”

“You know I hate when you hack my phone.” I complain, even though I really don’t. Even though I had prayed for him to help me with this case. “I really don’t know Adam. Like—even less than I know Eric.

“But you know Eric.”

“For like a week.” I reassure. “He added me to this group chat with him and like three other friends of his. They’re desperate to find Adam who has apparently dropped off the face of the earth and I don’t know what to do. I had you with Hannah’s case. And you knew her. And they—” I look over my shoulder at Cleo and Dan and Lilly, who are pretending like they’re not listening in even though I know and Jake knows they are. “—they knew her. And obviously Adam’s friends must know him but I don’t and you don’t and there is no Jake in Redlog Pines.”

“I don’t trust him.” He shakes his head. “Any of them.”

I laugh. “Jake, you didn’t trust half the people in this bar when we first started talking.” I look over at Phil and then Dan. “It doesn’t mean they committed a crime. If I had backed off when you asked me to help you find Hannah, we may never have.”

“I thought that was all thanks to me.” He sounds smug, like that little smiley face he loved to annoy me with (AKA make me fall in love with him). “Did he flirt with you?”

“No.” I deadpan. “I think he was focused on his missing friend.”

“I was focused on my missing sister.” He shoots back.

I close my mouth. Alright. He has a point. But I wasn’t flirting with Eric. He was focused on finding Adam and I was focused on mourning—and then finding—Jake. Maybe it felt like Eric and I were two sides of the same coin. Maybe that’s why I agreed to help him. Because I didn’t want to happen to him what I thought had happened to Jake—to me.

“You’re being ridiculous.” I say instead. “How do you think I could ever entertain the idea of being with somebody else when for the past three months—more than that if you count the time we have actually had together—I’ve been focused on you? On discussing Hannah with you and then talking to you about anything and everything and then worrying about you and then hating you a little for convincing me you should me the one to go into the mine and then mourning you when it was hard to even think about you and then finding you?”

His eyes are wide. I think I’ve rendered him speechless. Which—serves him right. I know he’s not somebody who serves their feelings up on a silver platter. I know that. Obviously, I knew that from the first time I spoke to him. Back when he was nothing more than ??? and I was almost convinced that Dan was right and he was the Man Without A Face—a thought that I now hate with everything in me. But I need him to trust me. Jealousy streak and FBI and the missing persons cases aside, he needs to trust me.

“Trust me.” I cup the sides of his face again. “He’s nothing like you.”

He swallows. “Some people might consider that to be a perk.”

“I don’t.” I say.

And then I’m kissing him and it feels like coming home.