#i changed the second dialogue a bit i hope that's okay!!

[jinhyun]

hii, i was wondering if for the "what are we?" prompts if you could please do some sort of combination of "what do you want us to be?" and "i was hoping we could be more than just friends" with felix? that would be so awesome! thank you <3

“What are we?”

The way you said those words made Felix's heart ache. It was hardly a whisper, for your voice betrayed you and cracked as you stared down to the cold pavement.

This wasn't how either of you expected this night to go. It was supposed to be a fun time; a house party with loud music, lots of people and many drinks to intoxicate your system. You and him were supposed to have a blast and get rid of all the stress you had been feeling lately.

Instead, you found yourselves sitting down on the sidewalk after you had run out one second and he followed you the next one.

Felix sat in silence next to you, concernedly staring into your miserable expression as your eyes remained focused on the ground and wouldn't dare to look back at him — the only sign of you acknowledging his presence right next to you being how you hugged the jacket he had placed over your shoulders a minute ago.

He didn't exactly get what happened. He had been talking to a friend of his he ran into, and then he saw you rushedly crossing the front door. He ran after you before he could even process it, only to be even more confused when he found you sitting down on the sidewalk, looking as if your heart had just been broken.

Still, even with such a look on your face, the words that had so weakly abandoned your lips caught him completely off guard.

He didn't know if he had heard it right. He didn't know what you wanted him to answer, nor did he know what to answer without compromising your entire friendship, which is why he ended up uncomfortably shifting in his place and clearing his throat before his eyes fixed on the house across the road.

“What do you want us to be?” He replied, voice nearly as weak as yours.

“That's not fair” you recriminated.

“What's not fair?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I'm asking you what we are,” your eyes finally fixed on his, and he could see how hurt you actually were. “I want you to answer, not to leave me with the responsibility of choosing”.

“So I'm supposed to choose?” He asked; not mad, but troubled as hell. “I don't know what you want me to say, Y/N”.

“Just, whatever you want us to be”.

“I'm in the same place as you here” his voice trembled. “I don't think my feelings for you could be any stronger, but we're… you're my best friend. I love you so much, Y/N, I don't want us to… risk it all and then lose you, I don't know”.

A bittersweet smile curved up your lips. You knew he loved you, and he knew you loved him. Neither of you had ever said it before, but you hadn't bothered to hide it either. Therefore, it didn't come out as much of a surprise when he confessed it like that.

Both of you were well aware of your mutual feelings, but neither of you dared to actually act up on them, in fear of it meaning to lose one another in the future. You were in love with each other dearly, but you treasured your friendship more.

Up until that night, at least, for things had just changed on your end.

“I love you, too” you confessed back, feeling him take a shaky breath. “And I used to think the same, that I didn't want to risk it all and then lose you”.

“Then?”

“Then…” you sighed, resting your palms on the pavement as you leaned back. “Then I saw the way Yumin looked at you, and how much you laughed with her and how happy you looked back then… and I realised that I was okay with not risking it all and being just friends til the end of times because it didn't cross my mind that at some point you'd be with someone else”.

“I'm not with Yumin,” he shut that idea of yours down immediately. “I just ran into her back there and we were catching up, we're not—”

“It doesn't matter,” you gave him another weak smile, as they seemed to be the only ones you had left. “You will fall for someone else at some point anyway, whether it's her or not, and I don't think I'll be able to just stand there and keep being your friend”.

“Y/N…”

“I really won't be able to stand it, Lix” your eyes watered. “The mere thought of you and her hurt like hell, what's it gonna be like when you actually do fall for someone else an—”

Your words were cut off by his mouth pressing lightly on yours. Just like that, the fate of your friendship had been settled.

It was the sweetest way you had ever been told to shut up, and you could only sit there and return the kiss after a couple of seconds, when you managed to snap out of it and realised you were in fact not dreaming.

It was delicate, soft, and didn't last long; only enough to stop you from talking nonsense and to let you know just how truly and deeply he felt for you.

“There isn't anyone else,” he whispered once he faintly pulled away. “There won't ever be someone else”.

You closed your eyes, resting your forehead on his and letting his breathing mix up with yours as you took in his words.

You loved him. He loved you. No matter how scared you were of a future without him if things didn't end up working out, you were sure that being so deeply in love with each other and not being together hurt just as much.

It almost seemed stupid not to give in to your feelings now.

“I think I want us to be more than friends…” you murmured, finally opening your eyes to meet his beaming chocolate ones.

Felix smiled, lightly nodding his head as he leaned in once more. “Good,” he pecked your lips. “Because I don't think I can keep myself from kissing you anymore”.

[1-800-kami]

R U MINE? feat. gojo satoru

gojo satoru has got to be the picture definition of a stereotypical college frat boy. he’s cocky, loaded with his daddy’s money, and dangerously handsome. it seems like common sense to stay away from him since you’ll never get more than a one-night stand out of it. 

that’s why you choose to turn a blind eye once you’ve come to the horrific realization: you’re in love with him. and you’re just itching to ask…

“are you mine tomorrow? or just mine tonight?”

IMPORTANT: part two is out! read here :)

content: 8k words, afab!reader, angst! fluff! heartbreak! n everything in between! implied smut, rich college frat boy gojo and hellcat driver geto 🤑, emotional rollercoaster, reader has a toxic ex, trust issues (?) gojo is absolutely insufferable, misunderstandings, use of words hoe, slut, etc., mutual pining, some jjk character cameos (wink wink) me writing very unfunny dialogue, no bc wtf is this, cheating implications, emo gojo (the worst warning of them all)

author's note: hello hello! my name is kami, i've been reblogging fics on tumblr for a while now but i've recently figured out how to work this hellsite, so i'm going to start posting fics that i write! thank you to those who enjoyed my nanami drabble <3 kisses 4 u all.

this fic IS split into two parts and there is smut in the second part. so just. prepare yourselves for that ig.

reblog and interact for a kiss ;)

“so… let me get this straight.”

“go ahead.”

shoko takes a deep breath, and you just somehow know that she’s pinching her nose in exasperation right now. “utahime dragged you out to a party in hopes that you would hit it off with somebody. you wander off on your own and later, she sees you and gojo–THE gojo satoru–giving you his number?!”

“uh, yeah. that’s exactly what happened.”

“do you even understand what you’re getting yourself into?! that man bags hoes like they’re pokemon!” you readjust the phone against your ear and sigh at shoko’s comment. 

“okay, first of all, never say that again. second, i rejected all of his advances. i didn’t even save his number.” you stare at the crinkled-up note in your hands, which proudly displays his number and a slick call me if you change your mind ;). you wonder if you could sell this paper to his fangirls–you’d surely make a little bit of cash out of it. “i’ve seen gojo around. i know that i shouldn’t mess with him. plus, he was drunk as hell at the party; i doubt he even remembers my name. to him, i’m just some chick that he’s frustrated at because she didn’t want to fuck him the second she saw him.”

“do you… do you share any classes with him?”

“i don’t think i do.. just, don’t worry about it, okay? i’ll throw away his number and we can put all of this behind us. here, i’ll do it right now.” you rip up the paper into a few pieces before tossing it in the garbage can. hopefully, you did it loud enough that shoko heard it through the phone. “i get that you’re worried for me. and i appreciate that, but i can handle myself.”

“just… no more mention of gojo anymore, okay? you’re right, y/n. let’s just put this all behind us.” shoko sighs, and you smile at that. problem solved. you threw away his number, and he’s most likely moved on to the next girl by now, so that was that. now, you just have to forget about satoru gojo.

all to never let yourself get hurt ever again.

it’s hard to forget about gojo.

not because of those dangerous blue eyes of his–getting anyone lost in them if they stare for too long. not because of his stupid silvery white hair, which makes him look like a mop, and sometimes like a paintbrush. not that stupid cocky grin of his, either…

...but because you’ve recently found out that he sits next to you for physics.

the revelation was truly disheartening. you thought you could avoid him for the rest of the year because as far as you knew, you shared no classes with him. however, you completely forgot about the fact that gojo never attends class in the first place, and you don’t even know what classes he’s in… because he’s never there. so finding out that the seat next to you in physics wasn’t just an empty seat, and it was gojo’s assigned one, was truly an experience.

“gojo.” the name alone makes your heart stop, and you drop your pen to look at the man your teacher was addressing. “finally choosing to attend class for once?”

speak of the devil.

there he was, in all his glory–the man you’d never thought you had to deal with ever again. the man who tried to butter you up with his corny sweet talk so that you would go home with him for the night. the man who persisted with talking to you, even though you were barely interested. the man, who, at the end of the night, insisted on writing down his number for you in case you changed your mind about him and gave him a chance.

you wanted to shrink into your seat and never resurface. 

“good morning, yaga!” he says rather loudly, with no regard to honorifics at all. a few giggles could be heard across the classroom–though geto suguru’s voice was prominent–satoru’s equally as infamous bestfriend. “and yeah! it’s surprising, isn’t it?”

what’s also surprising is how gojo took a seat next to you. you thought that there was a mistake, that your teacher would scold him for sitting somewhere he isn’t supposed to sit and relocate him elsewhere. however, yaga just grumbles and begins the lesson, leaving you helpless and unable to look at the man next to you.

you swear he’s burning holes at the back of your head.

pleasdon’tremembermeisweartogodpleasedon’trememberme-

“you’re that girl from the party, right?” he whispers, and you’ve never wanted to disappear so badly in your life. you slowly nod your head, turning to look at him, and he pouts. “y/n l/n. you never saved my number. hmph, i was looking forward to a text from you, too.”

“i’m surprised you even remember me, 'cause you were fucking wasted that night.” you twiddle your pencil, averting your gaze from the man. “and i never saved your number cause i threw the paper in the trash. it’s probably at a landfill somewhere, y’know.”

your words catch him off guard, and you laugh at how surprised satoru looks. it seems that’s definitely not an emotion he shows often. despite his initial reaction, satoru swears he could feel butterflies with the way your laugh sounds.

“not a common problem for a womanizer, huh?”

“what did you just call me?!-”

“y/n and gojo, do either of you have something to share with the class?” a dark blush of embarrassment covers your face, and somewhere in the back, you could hear geto snickering. gojo just smirks at yaga, seeming completely uanffected. “then i’d suggest you stay quiet the rest of this lesson. don’t make me separate you two.”

“i’d prefer that, actually…” gojo huffs at your comment, thinking of this as a lost opportunity if the two of you get separated. he does a once over at your appearance. you’re cute, but definitely not the party kind. you’re playing hard to get, and gojo finds it adorable–not a lot of girls go that way with him. however, gojo thinks you’re not just like any girl. there’s something different about you that intrigues him.

“did no one ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?”

“how could i not? you’re so cute.” 

“i thought you already learned from the party, gojo. i’m not interested in you.” 

the light blush coating your cheeks says otherwise. he smiles cheekily at the way you tried to hide your reaction to his words. you’re an enigma to gojo… and he’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame. he thinks he’s made his decision.

he’s gonna do whatever’s possible to get your number.

when the bell rings 30 minutes later, you shove your notebook into your bag, eager to finally leave the class that you had with that stupid paintbrush. that is, until he stops you with a question. “what class do you have next?”

he’s relentless. “why do you care?”

“i want to walk you to your next class,” he says, and smirks before saying his next words. “it doesn’t really matter if you tell me or not. i’ll just follow you anyways.”

you sigh, absolutely exasperated with him. he’s like a fly who keeps invading your personal space—always coming back no matter how many times you swat it away. he’s right, though. damn him for being stubborn. “i actually have this period free.”

“oh, sweet!” he chirps, walking with you out the door, making sure to greet geto before he leaves the classroom. “let’s go to the courtyard. i’ll buy you a drink from the vending machine-“

“i was gonna do that regardless if you were here or not.” you give him a look, and you can’t help but tug on your sleeves when you see people whisper to each other as you walk the halls with gojo. of course you’ve heard the rumors. the man next to you is the most popular guy on campus. girls glare daggers at you and the guys call his name, although he barely even acknowledges them. 

some common things that you’ve heard about gojo around the school are: “i heard he only talks to girls for sex,” “apparently his best friend geto is just as much of a player!” “i mean, who wouldn’t fuck a guy like gojo, though? he’s hot and loaded.” “that’s how he reels you in, though. he gets his hand in your pants and never calls you back again.” you know you should stay away from him, it’s common sense, but it’s hard to stay away from him when he’s the one who glues himself to your side. 

“well, now you’ll get a free drink and we’ll get to know each other! isn’t that great?” he smiles and you just grimace at his words. 

“i don’t need your money…”

“don’t care! can’t hear you!” he says, and you’ve seriously considered just making a run for it. at least you’ll lose him, and you’d finally be able to find peace for a bit. although, it would cause a scene, and gojo would probably end up finding you again somehow. 

“what can i do to get you to leave me alone?”

that piques his interest, even though he looks slightly hurt by your question. he thinks for a bit, and smirks. “i really do want to buy you something from the vending machine.. and i want you to spend your free period with me. i’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day if you do.”

“do you promise? like, actually?”

“mhm! pinky promise!” you feel like you’re talking to a prepubescent boy.

“then sure-“ you’re about to agree, but he cuts you off with one more condition.

“i also want your number.”

you feel like you’ve been cursed by a god, because having the most popular guy on campus be interested in you has got to be the most chaotic thing to ever happen in your life.

“what do you have me saved as?” 

the question comes from out of the blue, and you look up from the book you were completely absorbed in. you and satoru were at the school library, on a “study date” as he calls it, although it was more so just gojo inviting himself to wherever place you go, as per usual. this time, you have an exam to study for, and you explicitly told him not to bother you unless absolutely necessary.

you do have to say, though, he’s not annoying as you thought he was. he just nagged you way more the first day he sat next to you in physics so he could get your number. it’s been a few days since then, but still, you’d definitely be more efficient in your studies if you didn’t have him attached to your hip all the time.

“satoru, i told you not to bother me-“

“unless absolutely necessary. yeah, i heard you, and this question needs an absolutely necessary answer! contact names really say a lot about our relationship, y’know.”

“relationship? nobody ever said we were even friends-“

“don’t break my heart like that, babe. plus, you don’t call me gojo anymore! it’s satoru to you now,” his heart warms at that realization, and you scoff, especially at the pet name. “we are friends, unless you’d like to be something more...”

“if you say anything else i’m calling you by your government name. gojo satoru.” he looks especially wounded by that.

“ah! don’t do that, please. it feels like we’re a married couple and you’re really mad at me.” he cries and you can’t help but giggle at his words. you decide to entertain him a little bit, fishing through your pocket to find your phone. 

he almost passes out at what he sees on your screen.

“it’s just my number? you didn’t even save my contact?!-“

the shushes from your fellow students and the librarians aren’t even enough to calm gojo’s agony and despair. it also does nothing to stop your laughter, either.

from that day on, gojo’s contact was forcefully changed from his number to “satoru” (he initially added a heart, but you deleted it, much to his disappointment) and one of his many selfies from his stupid instagram account. how the hell can a college student even have thousands of followers?! you think. 

gojo just says that nobody can resist his shirtless post-workout selfies. you’re surprised that you didn’t slap him at his words.

you push him away.

everytime gojo buys your favorite drink, (it’s always on him, despite your genuine insistence in saying that you could pay for your drink just fine.) everytime he walks you to all of your classes each day, (he memorized your schedule just so he could do this) everytime he buys you your favorite foods on the rare instances that you let him take you out for lunch, (usually, this requires a lot of begging, and you mostly relent during class when you’re just exasperated and wanted to get some notes down.), and everytime he calls you by those stupid pet names of his, you think back to what the entire student body says about him, and you think back to your phone call with shoko, where she warns you to not associate with him so you don’t get hurt by anyone ever again, and you push him away.

you push him away even when you realize that if he just wanted you for sex, he would’ve stopped chasing after you when you didn’t text him after that night at the party.

and that thought alone scares you.

still, you’re not heartless. satoru’s been asking to take you out for a while, and you finally agreed to go today. he’s especially chipper about your agreement right now, walking with a slight pep in his step as he bit around his ice cream cone. 

the park boasts some beautiful scenery today, and little children are out and about. still, you underestimated the weather, and the cold uncomfortably nipped your arms as you internally cursed yourself out for wearing just a shirt. you crossed your arms as a subtle way to shield yourself from the cold.

“don’t play coy with me, y/n. are you cold?” satoru says with a cocky grin, and you huff at his question. surprisingly, he drops the teasing act and unzips his sweater, handing it to you. “here, take it.”

“satoru-“

“i’m not doing this to flirt or whatever you’re thinking right now. you’re shivering, and i’m just concerned for you, so please wear it.” he deadpans, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him be so… upfront? you kind of like it. it’s not him teasing you or him being flirty. it’s just him showing that he genuinely cares for you as a friend. you take the sweater with a nod and put it on, ignoring how your heart is thumping as you take in his signature smell. cedarwood with a little bit of musk. it’s not an overpowering scent, but it still envelopes your senses.

“nevermind. you look so cute with my hoodie on. i feel like we’re in a j-drama right now, y/n!”

you take back everything you just said.

a few minutes later, you two are near the kids playground when you decide to take a break from walking, sitting on a nearby bench with gojo. the chirping of the birds and the wind passing through the trees is quickly overpowered by loud crying. crying from the child right in front of you, in fact.

you’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but satoru beats you to it. he kneels in front of the kid, and coos, “hey, buddy. what’s your name, hm?”

he stops crying for a moment to look at gojo and shakily responds, “gumi-um, megumi fushiguro..” 

“megumi, huh.” he clicks his tongue for a moment. “why are you crying, megumi?”

“i-i don’t know where my dad is!” he cries, and satoru looks to you for help. you just shrug, unsure of what to do with the lost kid, until gojo’s face lights up, assumingly with a great idea.

“he’s most likely just around here somewhere. you can wait with us, and we’ll help you find him! say, do you want an ice cream to help you feel better, megumi?” the boy hesitantly nods, and satoru gives him a thumbs up as he takes him to the nearby ice cream stand. you’re watching this entire scene unfold, absolutely enamored with gojo for the first time. you didn’t think he had a natural talent with kids—but the way he’s making megumi laugh while he happily snacks on his ice cream says otherwise. an outsider could look at you three and assume that you’re just a happy family. 

you try to ignore how that makes you feel.

and as you wave goodbye to megumi once he eventually is reunited with his father again, (an intimidating man who gave you two an appreciative nod as he walked away with his son.) you realize something as you tug on the sleeves of your-satoru’s sweater. 

you’re in love with gojo satoru.

and fuck, that revelation scares you more than anything. the last time you had given your heart to a man, he had crushed it repeatedly until you decided that you would never let yourself be vulnerable like that ever again. 

and now, you're in love with your school’s notorious playboy—and it feels like you’re setting yourself up to be heartbroken again. you want disregard those rumors and shoko’s words so badly, but they still eat at the back of your mind even though the real gojo satoru is right in front of you, and he doesn’t match the characteristics of the gojo satoru in those rumors at all.

you also remember that he has one real best friend, geto suguru. you like to think that this is also what geto sees in gojo. the reason why he’s stuck around.

the reason why you want to stick around too.

you’re so busy in your head that you’ve just noticed gojo frantically waving his hand in your face. “earth to y/n? oh, good! i thought you had, like, a shock reaction from seeing megumi’s father. he looked a little scary, no?” 

“he looks like if a muscle came to life and started talking.” you whisper, and he laughs in agreement. burying your hands into the pockets of his hoodie, you smile. you don’t want to think about your current revelation with gojo right now. instead, you’ll stick with the present. and right now, you like the present.

you just don’t want to think about what this means for your future.

it’s the weekend, and you’re doing some work at the local cafe, gojo-free for once. only god knows what the man is doing at three pm in the afternoon on a saturday. not like you should be thinking about him right now, though. his presence alone has caused you to be behind on your studies, and you need to make sure you catch up.

you have to admit, you were a little unused to the silence. usually, the silence would be filled with gojo’s endless banter with you, as well as his terrible, corny jokes that are so stupid you can’t help but laugh. his seemingly never-ending presence was annoying at first, but now, you’re starting to yearn for his company.

it further fuels the pit of uncertainty in your stomach, and you hate it.

shaking your head with a sigh, you take another bite of your pastry and continue typing up the report on your laptop. the looming thought of this report’s impact on your grade and the need to pass this class helps you forget about satoru for a while. once again, you get lost in your academics.

the ring of the cafe bell breaks you from your trance. it was a natural impulse of yours to glance at everyone who entered the cafe, but once you did this time, you felt your heart drop down to your knees.

it was your ex. 

your ex boyfriend who destroyed the notion of love for you, because he made you feel it for a short time, only to throw it all into a pit of fire and leave you scrambling to find nothing but ashes. 

if you had to find the true roots as to why you’re so afraid to pursue a new relationship–you always find your ex in the center of it. and now, he’s right in front of you. you have to face him again when you refuse to shamefully admit that you’ve barely even healed from the emotional scars that he’d left behind. 

you feel as if an invisible hand has wrapped itself around your throat, blocking your airways and your ability to speak.

out of all the days satoru wasn’t here with you, it had to be this one.

“y/n? is that you, sweetheart?” you wanted to vomit at the way he said your name. he had no right to say it so sweetly, when all he’s ever left behind is venom. 

“i don’t want to talk to you.” you cringe at the way your voice cracks, and you avert your gaze from him.

“please, just hear me out for a minute, baby..” he coos, and you hate the way he talks to you as if you were a child. “i know i fucked up, and i can’t change our past… but i can change our future together. if you take me back, i’ll show you how much i’ve changed-”

you don’t know how many times you’ve heard that stupid line before.

“god, you sound like a broken record with how many times you’ve pulled that bullshit on me.” you spat, loud enough to draw commotion in the cafe. your ex has surprise written all over his face–most likely due to your non-compliance to his words. “what, do you say that shit to all your hoes?”

your ex looks around, shrinking a little when he sees all eyes are on him. “now, now, y/n, no need to be like that-”

“be like that… be like that?! you’re telling me to be civil when you’re the one coming in here wanting me back, spouting some bullshit saying that you’ve changed, when i told you to leave me alone already!” you scream, and you could feel the tears bubble up in your eyes. you look down, so you aren’t able to see how everyone’s staring at you with pity. god, you hate pity. it makes you feel weak and vulnerable. the two emotions you absolutely loathe. “i just want you to leave me alone, god. i hate you, why won’t you just-”

“you fucking bitch-” he makes a move to lunge at you, and you instinctively take a step back, pure fear enveloping your senses.

you never feel the impact, though, as you see your ex being restrained by the cafe worker.

you remember him. the man who took your order earlier. he was an older man with a warm smile on his face, although you noticed how his cheekbones were slightly sunken, and he looked a little overworked. you jokingly quipped earlier that he should get some sleep before thanking him for making your order. he just replied, i get that quite a lot.

the size difference between your ex and the man is enough to discourage him from fighting back. he makes quick work your ex, dragging him out the door while he hysterically screams profanities to you on the way out. you assumed the worker threatened to call the police, because your ex scrambled up from the ground and ran away. you hoped this was the last time you would ever see him again.

“are you okay, ma’am? he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

you didn’t even realize that the worker was back inside the cafe. everyone was gradually returning to their own businesses, with the eerie silence being replaced by casual chatter once more. you also didn’t realize how much your hands were shaking, and you huff out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “y-yeah, i’m alright, and he didn’t hit me. i just… need a minute,”

you decide that you aren’t gonna get anymore work done like this, so you pack your laptop into your bag and slump onto the seat with a sigh. you bury your face into your hands. “is it a long story?”

“oh, don’t even get me started.”

he laughs at that, and you ease up a little. “i told him i’d call the police if i ever see him around here again.”

“that’s good to hear. though i’d prefer if i never see him in my life ever again.”

he hums at your words, and he turns to look out the window. “it’s getting dark out. do you want me to call you a cab?”

“no need, i’ll call my boyf–my friend. i’ll call my friend. he’ll uh, pick me up.” you’re still so shaken up you barely even register what you said to him. your eyes are frantic as you turn your phone on and look for gojo’s name in your contacts. you don’t know why you want him to pick you up out of everybody. you could ask utahime or shoko right now, but you just wanted nothing more but to see gojo.

the bell rings again, and you flinch at the sound. thankfully, it was just another customer. the worker sighs. “well, these orders aren’t going to be done themselves. just wave me over if there are any other problems, okay?” 

you nod absentmindedly, and he turns to leave, but you stop him. “wait, sir, what’s your name?”

“kento nanami.”

“thank you so much, nanami. i appreciate it.” 

“i’m just doing my job.”

“your job is restraining crazy exes of college girls and kicking them out?”

“‘it comes with the job description.” he teases, and you laugh lightheartedly. “and your name is?”

“y/n l/n.”

“anytime, miss l/n. again, just please… call me over if anything happens.”

“will do…” you say, pressing the “call” button on gojo’s contact. the anxiety is hitting you again, and you take a shaky inhale. you’re surprised at how he picks up almost instantly. “hey… satoru? yeah, can you come pick me up, please? i know i don’t normally ask you to do something like this but-”

“did something happen?”

“a lot happened, actually… i’ll text you the address. please, just come soon.”

“of course, y/n.” you could already hear him running out the door, hearing the roar of his car engine coming to life. “i’ll be there as soon as possible.”

he gets to the cafe in five.

you wave goodbye to nanami, thanking him once more as you get in the passenger seat of gojo’s car. 

it’s not your first time inside here, but you still can’t help but admire how… expensive everything looks. or maybe you’re just looking around because you’re stalling, and you have no idea where to begin with satoru. 

however, you notice that he’s not asking you what happened, and he’s not forcing you to explain anything to him. instead, he switches the gear shift out of parking and says, “do you want me to take you home?”

your eyes widen at his words, and you shake your head no profusely. the last thing you want to be is home alone right now, mainly because your ex knows where you live. you know he most likely won’t go that far with you, especially since nanami knocked some sense into him… but the possibilities still scare you. you take a deep breath before saying your next words.

“...can you take me to your house? i-i’m sorry for asking, i just don’t want to be alone right now cause i’m terrified and-” 

“y-yeah. i’ll take you to my house.” he says, and you’ve never seen him so nervous in your life. it almost makes you laugh.

“i’ll explain everything later. i just… wanna be somewhere safe first.” somewhere safe. you find his house as a safe place. gojo doesn’t know how to react. his heart is thumping wildly out of his chest, but he makes sure to put your own comfort before his feelings.

“you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” he says, maintaining his cool by keeping his eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shift.

“but i want to, satoru…” you say. you can’t believe you’re doing this again. you’re crossing so many territories that you were so afraid to cross because of your ex. now, you think you aren’t that afraid anymore. not if you have satoru by your side. 

you place one of your cold hands on the gear stick, interlocking it with his. is he… shaking? “thank you for this.”

still. there are so many things you can’t say to him yet. you don’t know when you’ll be able to… or if you’ll ever be able to.

i love you. i love you but i’m too afraid to say it. i just hope that you’ll be able to wait for me.

“god, you’re killin’ me here, y/n.” 

that pit of uncertainty in your stomach has grown so large you feel it's about to consume you whole. you don’t think you mind much, though.

the two of you are lounging at his couch after satoru insisted on telling you to make yourself at home. there’s a movie playing, with neither of you paying attention at all, takeout on the coffee table, two glasses and a bottle of wine after gojo didn’t know what drinks to serve, and freaked out by pulling the first expensive drink out from his parents’ alcohol closet. has he never properly invited someone to his home before?

“so in short, you had a crazy ex who saw you at the coffee shop… and he was begging for you to take him back, and when you went off on him he called you a bitch and tried to hit you…” he recalls, a huge grimace on his face. “tch. the cafe worker shouldn’t have let him go like that.”

“i’m sure he learned not to mess with me after getting humiliated in public.. and nanami did more than enough for me.” you retorted, and he gave you a sour look. 

“oh, so you know the worker’s name now?” he says, and you could feel the tension build up in the air. oh. so he wants to do this with you? “what, is he your knight in shining armor?”

“he looks like he’s in his late thirties, satoru. i’m not into older guys,” you roll your eyes at his absurd questions and add, “what’s it to you anyway?”

“what’s it to me, y/n?” he repeats your words, and you could feel an argument coming, like you already didn’t have an exhaustive one with your ex. “you know how i feel about you-“

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” your voice is getting louder, all to hide your fear behind the implication of his words. you distance yourself from him on the couch.. much like how you distance yourself from letting satoru get too close to how you truly feel. “we’re not even together, satoru. you don’t get to control the guys that i talk to- hell, have you even seen yourself?”

you’re rambling, and all you want to do is shut up, but you can’t bring yourself to. “i’ve heard what our school says about you. y-you’re a playboy, right? and you only ever talk to girls because you wanna fuck them. i’m not stupid, satoru. i’m not different from any of them, right? you only chase after me because i’m playing hard to get and that pisses you off-“

“what… what are you even saying, y/n?” he asks, and it stops your rambling for a moment. you don’t know what you’re saying. you’re pouring out all the reasons why you’ve tried to push him away, the reasons why you were so afraid to give your heart to him. but now that you say them out loud, they sound outright stupid. 

“i started coming to class just to talk to you, i memorized your schedule just so i can walk you to class every morning. i buy you all your favorite food and drinks… i had to memorize your favorites too, by the way. and i have shit memory.” he’s screaming at this point, and you’ve never had satoru scream at you. there are unshed tears in his eyes, and it’s all overwhelming to watch this unfold. “and when you called me, i drove as fast as i could to you because you never call like that and i was fuckin’ worried!”

“so let me ask you a question, y/n… would i do all these things for you just because i want you in my bed?! i’d do anything for you, and you know that!” he’s crying. the gojo satoru is crying, and it’s all for a girl. if you told this to someone in your school, they’d call you a shit-faced liar. gojo satoru doesn’t cry for a girl. he makes them cry.

“i’m sorry for being skeptical, satoru! i just can’t help it when there’s so many rumors about you wanting to fuck girls just for the shit of it – and i’m conflicted on whether or not i should believe them because i want you so bad and i’m scared you’ll end up just breaking my heart and i don’t want that to happen again-”

he cuts you off. “you… what?”

you’re confused at why he looks so surprised, but then you backtrack on your words and you gasp. fuck. why did i say that? you cover your mouth and look away from him, refusing to meet his eyes.

those stupid blue eyes that you know you can’t get enough of.

“y/n… can you please say that again? i don’t want to do anything if i didn’t hear you right.” his voice is soft now, and you swear that you’re dreaming. this isn’t real. right? i’m gonna wake up soon. you dig your nails into the palms of your hands, leaving half-moon marks in their wake. it doesn’t work, and you don’t wake up, and you know you have to accept the fact that this is very real and it’s happening.

this is the worst leap of faith you think you’ve ever had to take in your life.

“i want you so fucking bad, satoru. and i’m realizing that you’re not just the stereotypical rich playboy that everyone talks about on campus—you’re a really great guy, and i guess i’m just scared to face that-” you don’t even realize that satoru’s got you cornered on the couch, and you can’t finish your words as he slots his lips against yours. hard. it’s the most passionate kiss you think you’ve ever had in your life, and it’s got your breath taken away in seconds. holy shit.

you quietly moan against his lips as you kiss back, cupping his face with your hands and wiping his tears away. you wish this moment would last forever, but you pull away so you can breathe. you meet gojo’s eyes, and they’re clouded with lust and desire, but you could tell he’s still a little uncertain. “we’ll talk later… just take me to the bedroom already,”

gojo doesn’t need another confirmation from you, and he lifts you up to carry you to his bedroom, practically tripping on his feet the way there.

a few hours later and a noise complaint from the neighbors, it’s safe to say that gojo satoru was the best one you’ve ever had.

“god, i’m never letting you go, baby.”

he’s tracing hearts onto your bare back. it’s littered with bruises and red scratch marks just from a few minutes ago, but you’ve never felt better in your life. you stare at the man who invited himself into your life just from an encounter at a party, and you thank your lucky stars that you agreed to go with utahime that night. “is something wrong? you’re starin’ again.”

“i’m sorry it took me so long to trust you. i’ve just been scared to open up my heart again, especially after him.” you don’t have to name “him” for satoru to understand. 

“i’m sorry too. i just got angry about the rumors and i also disregarded the fact that you’re scared to love again after your ex did all of that shit and-” he pauses, and sighs. “sorry. i’m rambling again.” 

he pulls you into another kiss, and this time, it’s sweeter, lighter, and full of love. “i’m going to show you what it looks like to really be loved, because it’s definitely not the shitty picture that your ex painted in your head. there’s way more to it than that.”

“i love you, y/n.”

“thank you, toru.” you whisper. maybe, one day, you’ll be able to find the courage to say it back. and it’s okay, because gojo is willing to wait an eternity for you. 

he’ll wait an eternity for you to teach you how to love again.

“look at how beautiful you are…” gojo says, appearing out of nowhere as he wraps an arm around your waist. you yelp, staring at your boyfriend through the mirror. he’s wearing a classic black tuxedo, with no doubt it being very expensive. it compliments the glimmering rolex on his wrist, and the thoughts running through your head about him and his outfit sets fire to your stomach.

“look at yourself first, toru… god, we should just stay home,” you tease, turning around to pull him into a deep kiss. it’s a friday, and gojo’s taking you out to attend geto’s party tonight. the two of you are going for several reasons. he wants to introduce you to his bestfriend, since you realized that you’ve never actually formally met geto before. it’ll also be your first formal “couple appearance”, as if gojo being attached to your side all the time doesn’t say enough about the two of you already. 

gojo pulls away, which surprises you. you pout at the expression on his face. “as much as i want to, suguru’s been bugging about you all week. i really do think it’s time for you to meet him,”

“hmph. alright.” 

“i’m tearing that dress off of you the second we get home, though.”

“satoru!”

“what?! not my fault my girl looks so damn hot all the time!”

this night is going amazing.

when satoru walks with you through the front doors, arm wrapped around your waist and the dress you picked out for tonight glimmering, you feel a little shy. the guys all whistle at the two of you, and the girls whisper amongst each other, but you and gojo don’t care. in his eyes, you’re the only girl he sees. the only girl worth being with here. 

“wanna go get drinks?” he asks you, cerulean eyes showing underneath his sunglasses. you nod, walking to the kitchen with him. you’re getting severe deja vu… you can’t believe you met gojo at the last party you were at. and now you’re at another party, with gojo as your date. you scan the crowd for utahime or shoko, wondering what you would say to them if they saw you with the man they specifically told you not to mess with.

it’s alright, though. shoko was wrong about those rumors, and gojo’s proving it to you.

“satoru!” the playful voice greets your boyfriend, and you turn to see geto suguru. you’ve seen him around campus, and he sits somewhere in the back of your chem class. you haven’t really had the opportunity to talk to him, though… and he looks a little intimidating.

“you must be y/n,” he says, offering you a freshly opened smirnoff from the drinks on the countertop. you thank him and grab the drink, taking a swig.

“yup! my lovely girlfriend,” gojo lets go of his arm around your waist to grab a drink. 

“you probably don’t know this, but i’ve been his wingman.” he smiles at gojo, who’s pouting, like he’s preparing himself for what suguru is about to say. “he’s batshit crazy for you, its insane.”

“oh? do tell.”

“when the two of you got together, he left me a voicemail at like… four in the morning? anyway, he was screaming about how he was the happiest guy in the world… or something.”

“that’s because i was!” you’re laughing at how unashamed satoru is about this.

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” geto clicks his tongue, pulling out his phone. “and he’s reposted you on insta to like, every drake song-”

“alright, me and y/n are gonna go dance.” he interrupts suguru, and drags you away from his best friend with a yelp. “nice talkin’ to you, suguru!”

“hey, i wanted to know more!-”

“shh, you don’t need to know about all of that.” the two of you are in the living room, in the midst of all the bodies dancing and grinding against each other. he pulls you close to him, and you feel his hot breath against your neck. “you look so beautiful tonight, y/n.”

“same for you, handsome. let’s dance, shall we?” you wrap your arms around him and just sway to the beat. you’ve never been much of a dancer, but everything feels natural as long as gojo’s with you. 

suddenly, the music changes, and one dance starts playing. you two look at each other, and you both burst out laughing at the same time. “have you reposted me to this song?”

“duh. it’s a classic.”

“can’t disagree with that.” you say, finding yourself grinding against satoru while wizkid’s part plays in the background. it feels like such a perfect night–you’re pulling satoru into a deep kiss, and he shoves his tongue down your throat while he’s leading you to a nearby couch. you’re seated on his lap, mimicking practically every couple in this party tonight. 

suddenly, you pull away, and you whisper, “i need to use the bathroom.” 

satoru smirks at your words, thinking that it’s a hint for something else, and you give him a sour face. “want me to join you-”

you hit his chest playfully. “that’s not code for anything, you perv. i actually need to piss.” 

he’s pouting at your words, but he lets you off his lap anyway, and holds your drink for the time being. “it’s at the second door in the hall to your right. be quick, please.”

“no duh. i’ve got a cute date to come back to,” you say, walking away and traversing all of the bodies that smell like sweat and alcohol. you’re a little unused to this environment, but it’s alright. you fix up your makeup in the bathroom and freshen up a little, walking back to the living room to find satoru again. 

you wish you never did.

you were gone for four minutes. five minutes max. you come back to satoru, and your breath hitches at the sight.

on his lap was a random chick that looked like every other girl at this party. she was practically naked, since her outfit didn’t do much to cover her skin at all.

fuck.

you remember the first time you saw gojo at the last party you went to. the sight wasn’t that different compared to the one now. there were girls all over him, all fighting for his attention. and yet, it seemed that night, his attention was focused solely on you.

what bullshit that was.

your eyes are blurry, and the music is muffled in your ears. white noise fills your senses, and all you want to do right now is run.

so you do.

you run, not caring if gojo saw you at all or not. you run out of the party, eternally grateful that you didn’t pick out heels for tonight and settled for much simpler shoes. you run, despite the fact that you drew geto’s attention. you were already out the door before he could ask what was wrong. you run, just wanting to get away from everyone and everything. you run with no particular destination in mind. you stop running when you almost get run over on a red light, the car honking at you–screaming profanities as it drives by. it breaks you from your trance, and you sit on the curb of the sidewalk, letting all of your tears out on what was supposed to be a perfect night.

of course gojo didn’t think that you were different. you were just like every other girl to him.

stupid. stupid. stupid. you’ve never felt so stupid in your life.

when geto sees you running out the door with unshed tears in your eyes, he immediately panics. what the hell happened?

he goes through every room of the house, trying to find gojo, when he hears a bunch of commotion in the living room. he runs there, pushing past everyone, only to find a total disaster inside.

he sees gojo screaming at a girl dressed like a stripper, who was on the ground with tears in her eyes. satoru looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel with how pissed he looks. there’s a crowd forming at this point, and geto knows he needs to intervene, so he drags his bestfriend away, who looks so distraught that geto could just wonder what the fuck happened.

they’re outside now, and its significantly a lot more quiet out here compared to all of the chaos inside. all the noise is coming from gojo—who won’t stop crying, and geto has no idea what to do or where to even begin. “fuck!”

“dude, what the fuck happened!?” satoru looks like he’s feeling every emotion at once. he looks pissed, pissed enough to punch a wall, and geto’s a little afraid that gojo might actually do that–or worst-case scenario, punch him. he’s crying, and geto hasn’t seen gojo cry ever since he fell off a swing in pre-k, so what happened must be really fucking serious.

“i don’t KNOW what happened, goddamnit! y/n went to use the bathroom and some slu- some girl came up to me and threw herself on my fucking lap! i was gonna tell her to fuck off but y/n saw before i was able to and now she’s gone and she probably thinks that i’m just some cheater when i’ve worked so hard to get her to trust me and-FUCK!”

he stops, trying to calm down a little, and gojo takes the shakiest breath he thinks he’s ever taken in his life. the red in his vision starts to fade, but he still feels helpless. “i just don’t know what to fucking do, suguru.” 

“i just saw y/n run out of my house a few minutes ago.” he says with a grimace, and he’s trying to figure out what to tell his bestfriend. “i’ve never seen you like this over a girl before. holy shit, you really love her, do you?”

geto thinks that gojo’s bloodshot eyes, the brutal names that he called that girl at the party, and the tears he’s shed for you are already an answer.

“this is your last chance to prove it to her, satoru.” geto fumbles through his pockets and hands him the keys to his challenger. gojo snatches them, hearing the car engine rumbling itself to life. the white-haired man thanks his best friend as he steps into the drivers’ side, with geto reassuring him, ‘ill deal with the chaos inside, you go ahead and explain yourself to your girlfriend’.

gojo swears that he’s never driven so fast in his whole life.

part 2 :)

[taegularities]

colour me in: blooming | jjk (m)

Summary: You're the flower blossoming in Jungkook's living room, no matter how relentless the rain. And you're the sun he tirelessly orbits — warm as a home.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; hints of angst, fluff overload, suggestive ➳ warnings: full jk pov!, fluff fluff fluff, but also crying, bits of insecurities, mommy and daddy issues, their friendddsss <3, oc's favourite blanket smells like him <3, his feelings for her are consuming him in a gorgeous way 🥺, grocery shopping 🍏 and then a housewarming party, jk chocolate chip nips appreciation (oc pinches them lol), horniness, implied sex + implied boner, sexual tension, flirting and teasing and bickering, yearning, convos about their relationship/life, cooking together hehe, jk is so… jk, kissing/making out, the ending ♡ ➳ word count: 15.6k ➳ a/n: domesticity is my favourite city and i never wanna leave lol. i've genuinely been enjoying fluff more than i ever thought i would. this chapter made me so damn happy and i hope it has the same effect on you guys, too <3 let me know how you liked it; feedback is always appreciated 🥺 also, there are lil sub-headings to avoid confusion with the timeline!! enjoy!! 🤍 ➳ a/n2: even though i am a tiny bit late… happy birthday @jkaxl. love you so much, axelle <3 ➳ listen to: daylight by taylor swift (ty anon <3) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

”Are you happy?”

“I’m… I’m adjusting to it all. It’s new. But so far I feel— relieved.”

“Okay.” He pauses. “I’m sorry I didn’t encourage that feeling earlier. But… you know. You found your way on your own, and somehow, I find that just as remarkable. If not so much more.”

“Thank you.”

Silence breaks the dialogue, but there are still shreds of unspoken words he’s not letting out yet. Right on the tip of his tongue, resting quietly; so you wait. Let your weary gaze slump to your lap, blinking until you hear a rustle and a—

“Do you want to come over sometime?”

You don’t know.

So you respond in just that uncertainty, “Maybe at some point? When it’s… not so overwhelming anymore.”

“I understand. Hey,” another break in his speech, “I’m proud of you.”

Your heart suspends for a fraction of a moment, but you feel the seething, searing pain. Fresh, clumping up your throat.

“…Thank you.”

THE SUNDAY AFTER THE PRESS CONFERENCE

When Jungkook locks the door, the apartment is quiet, but the living room light still glowing.

Still fired up and hot, the cool back of his hand pats his warm neck and cheek. Your name threatens to tumble off his tongue, but an oddly calm feeling advises against it. And as he carries his bag into the living room, setting it down next to a big flower pot you so wanted, he sees why.

Because you’re curled up on the couch, temple against the back of it, legs pulled in. Your favourite blanket — that you swear constantly smells like him — is draped half over you, falling off one of your shoulders.

You’re sound asleep. 

Jungkook recognises the pout even from afar; lets his eyes drift from your face to the hand peeking out of the blanket. Brushing a piece of paper that is holding on for dear life, attempting not to slip off your lap.

What if he never moved? If he kept staring?

Back in college, one of his dearest professors used to say, “You know it’s art when even blinking feels like a waste of time. You don’t want to spend a second not looking at it.”

That very semester is still a major component of Jungkook’s memory. Ever since, he’s seen a handful and a dozen and a hundred pieces that matched the words once uttered.

Just, never as much as today.

The sky has obscured since he left two hours ago — he wonders how fast that time passed for you. Either way, he reckons you didn’t rest until your body forced you to. Because it’s not anywhere near bedtime; but the changes in your life constantly add to your exhaustion.

He wanted to help. He did all morning before you sent him away, arguing that, “You’re already doing too much. And you hate paperwork anyway!”

To which he expressed, “But I don’t hate you or having you here!”

“Just go!” You reached to his left nipple, poking it, and he, wearing a frisky smirk, instinctively threw a protective hand over it. “The muscles demand your attention desperately. Just don’t look at other girls’ butts, ‘kay?”

He chuckled.

You made it sound like a life-altering goodbye to a year-long journey instead of a brief trip to the gym. He nodded solemnly, nearly saluting as he agreed, “You’re right. Gonna make sure I’m able to crush you extra hard.”

But it seems you crushed and knocked yourself out well enough. And that after he sent out various emails with you, drafting and crafting a battle plan, googling salient issues and their solutions, and writing down lists of everything still left to do before you can actually move in.

The two of you are lucky the landlord is laid-back. Usually, they don’t let anyone move in so quickly; demand a couple months. And you’ll already be settling here officially the very next.

Not that it makes any difference.

You already spend your dusks and dawns here, clinging, reluctant to go home. And he won’t tell you to; he’d be a fool to. Plus, he hates his bed cold.

Jungkook’s steps are slow, muscles painful to the touch. He sweeps his tresses back as he nears your slumbering, balled up form, soon pressing a hand into the arm of the couch. Suppressing a groan, he leans in; frees your closed eye from a lock before he plants a kiss next to it.

You stir with the softest flutter of your eyelashes, just a teeny tiny bit.

God. You tilt his world off its axis.

“Baby,” he whispers.

It must be pulling you out of the remnants of your doze, because your muscles awaken, corners of your lips twitching. The movement of your legs finally pushes the paper off the blanket, and Jungkook hurries to catch it before it can drift to the floor; places it on the table.

He kneels; and for the briefest, smallest moments, you flinch when your pupils eventually align with his. Then, relaxation floods you anew, and you grip the blanket, sliding it back over you — only for it to glide down again.

You smile — a tired beam, accompanied by a sigh. Not quite wide, because you’re not fully there yet, but still so genuine. Stretching a little, you murmur, “You’re back.”

“And you’re still working,” he scolds, albeit cushioning his words by bringing a fingertip to your jaw. Flicking affectionately, softly. “Did you eat?”

“Mhmmm. But it’s—” Your hand taps for something, moving under the blanket; and a second later, you’re lighting up your phone, squinting at it. “It’s not late. Gonna eat with you again. I’m not that tired anymore.”

As if on cue, you yawn, tears of weariness collecting. You interrupt it with a gentle snicker and promise, “I mean it.”

The lopsided smile emerges on his features quickly. The drowsy, vulnerable tone in your voice caresses his heart like a gust… but the meaning behind it doesn’t pass by him so fast.

“Don’t overwork yourself, okay?” he repeats for the fifth time today alone; it’s become a constant habit. A reminder, like clockwork. “The body knows when you do.”

“No. I feel great.”

“Just. Be nice to yourself, munchkin.”

“I am,” you defend, attempting to stress the verb, but not quite getting there, “I am. Don’t worry so much.”

An impossible demand; but how would he explain it to you?

Despite the shake of his head, he still gives in, “Okay. I’ll shower and be back in a sec, yeah?”

He waits for your confirmation until you hum in unintelligible agreement, moving back in to plant a kiss on your forehead. Rushes to the shower, washes off today’s effort.

Wet hair strands pushed back, he finds you shuffling and organising the papers you read and filled in today, placing them neatly in the middle of the table. You look more awake now, delivering a content smile before heading to the kitchen with him.

Only, your mind might not be entirely unfogged yet — because your movements are slow. Different from how he handles the stir fry that the two of you cooked for lunch together.

You were proud of your creation — told Jungkook how you’re still far from the skills he possesses, but not bad to start with and improving every day. Seasoning better, understanding how to cut faster without hurting yourself in the process.

It’s lovely, watching the contentment spread in your eyes.

Yet, Jungkook always makes sure to stand close to your back, hands lifted, persistently ready to salvage the situation if need be.

But right now, judging from your clearly burdened brain, he bestowed a relatively simple task upon you. And you look so cute doing it — bun all messy, shoulders slumped, sporting (after stealing) his joggers since they’re so ridiculously comfortable, so get your own.

He side-eyes you every now and then, forbearing a chuckle; but when your lower lip juts in concentration, he can’t help but sling an arm around your waist. The jug containing the iced tea shakes, and you hold the glass carefully, voicing a little, “Oh— I… Kook.”

You’re wide-eyed and caught off guard; blinking when he tilts his head and leaves a kiss under your ear. 

You raise your shoulder at the tickling sensation, and when you call his name again, your voice is reprimanding. But he could pick out the endearment even in his sleep.

That’s how it goes every hour of the day; sweet and new ever since you started frequenting his place even more often than before.

Something has occurred since the press conference. Two days only — but the universe has changed. Maybe it has expanded faster than ever and birthed a couple billion more stars, made even the nights brighter. He doesn’t know.

All he does recognise is that unnamed, newfound feeling spreading in his chest, and he’s been unblurring it. Bit by bit. Letting it take on a form that will soon consume him. He’s sure.

And soon, there’ll be a fitting word and definition matching this phenomenon, too.

It’s triggered by even the smallest things.

Like by the sound of your steps when you walk through the apartment. Or by the way you hum your favourite song all the time, unconsciously; then singing the line you hold dearest to your heart before resuming to the hum.

Trust in me when I say…

Or even… by how you’re facing him an hour later, satiated and cross-legged on the bed as you finish up today’s work.

You’ll have to notify the bank and whatnot of your move soon, so you need to brainstorm the relevant institutions that the new address and information will go to. It shouldn’t take too long; you’re diligent, so you’ll just be noting down all numbers next to the places you need to contact and then crash.

Jungkook soon takes over that task, lips moving as he reads the words, writes them down. And amidst the end-of-the-day chore, you crane your neck to read, and tell him, “You have such pretty handwriting.”

“So do you. I didn’t know you made circles over your lower case I’s,” he looks closer to where you scribbled, tapping the pen against a letter, “and awwh. The curves of the T’s!”

You giggle before you add, “I’ve heard a pretty handwriting symbolises inner beauty, by the way.”

“Ohh, so we’re both beautiful.”

“No doubt. We need to take more pictures… we look great together.”

That’s what’s been filling the hours of these days, too, Jungkook supposes. The airy, light atmosphere within the four walls he’s come to share with you. Laughter and shared glances, despite the stack awaiting you — because it signifies far more than paperwork.

Which is why it surprises him when a subtle switch occurs, suddenly and unannounced.

When he looks at your fingers lifting a paper, he can’t say what you’re seeing, but your ardour falters a little. Crooning dying, expression not matching the smile on the pictures you spoke of.

Delicately, you trace the edges of the document before putting it back down, aligning it with the rest of the pile. Pushing the whole thing to the side, you sigh, and he, a silent observer up to this moment, asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You’re thinking about something. And I don’t like it when you’re quiet like this.”

“Oh… It’s nothing.” The shrug is subtle and unconvincing, and the tight shutting of your lips so telling to him. He senses the tension before you finally reveal, “Dad called today. And…” He waits; another shrug. “It’s nothing. He just asked how I was holding up. And that he’s sorry things had to escalate on Friday.”

Ah. Odd.

Jungkook would never say it to you: Because he has never been one to talk families down, sever a bond by voicing his opinion, even if the relationship’s already hanging by a thread. No… he’d never say it to you.

But.

There’s a dull realisation in the back of his mind; and it evokes quiet anger in him. That… there was always a potential anchor inhabiting the same house as you, but never serving as one.

Hidden behind your mother’s back, letting it all pass — probably for you to build character.

Jungkook has always assumed that his dad did just that, too. Throwing him into the world without support, letting a seemingly irresponsible teenager, and then young adult, experience hardships in order to learn how to deal with them.

In contrast to your father, his dad wouldn’t apologise to him… yet, in the end, morally and emotionally, both your families fucked up big time.

“Oh…”

You nod, elaborating, “He wanted to know if I was going to visit him. But I need a bit of time.”

Right… thinking about it, you haven’t seen your father in a while. And your mother hasn’t blown up your phone since Friday evening — when you came out of the glass building, with equally glassy yet hopeful eyes.

You truly must have let off steam in there for her to back away.

“Is that why you were saying you’ll be rushing to the house after work?”

Because as far as he recalls, you’ve been talking about gathering your stuff immediately after working hours — or on Saturday mornings. Never any other time. Because you know they won’t be at home then.

“Yeah,” you confirm, “I feel horrible neglecting him like that, because he seems to be glad that I’m happy, but…”

Your lips point downward; you clear your throat, but it doesn’t hide the tremble in your voice, “I just wish he’d defended me sometimes. Dunno. Maybe he did and I just don’t know about it? And it never worked? It’s what I like to think.”

God…

“Because,” you continue your vent, “he was strict but not like her, and… Sometimes he did recognise bullshit when he saw it. I’d hear them talk and he wouldn’t always see eye to eye with her. But a bit more open support would’ve been cool, you know?”

Shit, how it angers Jungkook.

The knot in your throat; how you avert his gaze; the looming tears. It all angers him.

He moves his hand to your knee, keeping his voice and heart steady for you. Simply uttering, “Baby…”

“And… and then today he suddenly seemed… I don’t know.” You take a deep breath, shaking your head. Your blinking fastens, and you vehemently dodge Jungkook’s eyes. “I dunno how casually he said it, but he told me he was proud.”

The way you emphasise the word… as if it’s a stranger to you, like you’re trying it out…

Jungkook sighs, heart and chest heavy, muttering so kindly—

“Oh, sweetheart… Ah, come here—”

His palm shoves the papers aside some more, uncaring, and brings you closer to his body. Yearning for your embrace, he shifts with you until your legs wrap around each other. Fingers slither to your chin to raise it, and then pinch your cheek adoringly.

The bedroom light falls into your sparkling eyes, shiny with the dampness. You’re not crying, but you sniffle for a moment.

“Of course he is,” he whispers, keeping your face upright, “what’s there not to be proud of? You’re so fucking cool.”

“…You think?”

“Of course I do,” he repeats, “you’re so inspiring and smart and funny and awesome. I’m the proudest of you, in fact.”

The heat increases beneath his palms as your cheek smoulders, pupils promptly softening. As if the outline of your irises is blurring, relinquishing the harder, unwanted emotions.

“I could probably live with just that,” you respond, managing a tender laugh and mixing it with your sniffles. “But…”

But perhaps, the heavy heart won’t get entirely lighter just yet. And Jungkook’s turns half blue at the same time as yours.

“I wish my mom could react the same way instead of being so… stubborn. I mean, it’s a good thing that I want to stand on my own two feet! And aside from work — she also saw me in the summer, and she knew how I felt without you. She sees how I feel now with you, too, and yet.”

You puff out some air, as if you’d been dying to rant; and he imitates the release of a quiet breath, but for wholly other reasons.

Because…

Along with the melancholy drenching your voice, the guilt shoots an arrow to his heart. Guilty about this damn summer; about the days he nearly gave up on you. If he could encase your fractured soul in a quick cure…

“I’m sorry she keeps hurting you, baby. And… I’m sorry you cried. Being sad over a loser like me was the last thing you needed, so…”

He’s half joking; lifting the corner of his lips. You seem to know, too, because you match his smile — still pledging, “Being sad sucked, but… you’re right here now and. I do need you.”

It’s so easy for you to tinge his entire being in a bright pink. Because somewhere in the depths of his mind, he admits that he wanted to hear this. That he wants you to need him as much as he needs you.

“And I’m right here to stay,” he promises. “Even if she doesn’t. Okay?”

“Yeah… yeah. But maybe someday she can be proud, too.”

It’s fucking you up more than he thought. Probably more than you thought.

“I’m sure,” he guarantees, “some people accept their mindsets as the only truth, angel, but one day she’ll come around.” You only nod. So he adds, “I’ll fix this with you.”

“Fix it?”

“The issues you deal with. And the ones I deal with. You and I together, okay?”

Your motions are slow. The nod is barely one; maybe because his hands refuse to establish yet another distance to your skin. And maybe because you’ve tired yourself out once and for all. The slight slouch is telling; your body needs some rest.

Enough with the papers.

“You know… somehow, this excites me,” he says. The grin emerging confuses you for a while; the flicker in your eyes is as delightful as the moment. “Pulling out all the stops and making things better with you, I mean. I wouldn’t wanna do it with anyone else.”

And he’d know. Because if he’d been comfortable enough, he would’ve long ago; he had the chance to. Yet, the courage never surfaced — until with you.

His touch drops from your face to the side of your neck, shaking you gently before he says, “You excite me all the time.”

Shouldn’t be news to you — bearing his unceasing kisses and everlasting words in mind, his bliss is difficult to miss. There’s barely any containing it around you.

And maybe you know what he means; because judging from your dreamy smile, you can’t seem to muster any self-control either. Feeling the joy bubbling, growing, simmering in the middle of your stomach until it explodes and you—

Wrap your arms around his neck abruptly. Attacking him until balance abandons him, falling back onto the bed before you land on top of him. The hug is crushing, your body pushing into his with every sliver of fondness you can summon.

He could say something. Blurt more admissions dipped in honey. But he doesn’t question it; doesn’t comment on it. Only relishes the silence and your warm cheek against his chest, cuddling in.

And sighs in contentment.

A WEEK LATER

You’re messing up the structured system he established for himself.

The groceries are scattered in the cart; instead of playing Tetris with them, as he usually does, you’re piling them up randomly, unaware of the mess.

Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to tell you that the pack of eggs isn’t supposed to be balancing on top of other products like this. Because holy shit, you are buzzing. Not because you don’t know how to grocery shop, but because of the conversation this morning.

”I've got a whole list in my head. We’ll need a shit ton to make this work tonight.”

You were taming your hair as you listened; watching your reflection follow your movements — and as he readied himself for the day, Jungkook watched from afar.

You’d decided that for now, a week was enough to mourn the loss of whatever familial bonds could’ve been. Just last night you told him that starting this new life means an opportunity to gradually leave your sorrow behind, even if it takes some time.

And in celebration of the new arc you’re so joyfully approaching, you’d decided to host a housewarming of some sorts.

Jungkook’s friends already know his place; but the pronoun has changed. This time, you want them to step into your apartment, too.

Securing a hair strand with a clip, you asked, “Do we have it all here?”

“Not everything. Gotta go grocery shopping later.”

“Ohhh…”

Your fingers floated to the edge of the wash basin. You held it in your grip, leaning over it a little, staring into your own eyes quietly. He checked with another step closer to the bathroom, glimpsing at the expression in the mirror.

Calm, but thinking.

“What is it?” he asked, pulling his jeans’ zipper close.

“Uhh. Do you need help?”

“You should rest. You’re already doing so m—”

“No, no, I mean…” You let the sink go, folding your fingers. Inhaling for just a moment when your eyes fell on his bare torso. “I want to go grocery shopping with you. It’s Saturday and I have nothing to do until tonight. So… Please don’t go without me?”

The big eyes and saccharine question went straight to his heart; like one of Cupid’s pointy, sharp arrows targeting the exact middle of the organ. What else could he have done other than breaking into a breathy laugh — wide grin building a lively start to the morning.

“Of course. I’ll wait until you’re ready then.”

You raised a triumphant, tight fist, and he shook his head in delight. Diminished the distance between your bodies, a hand pressing into the back of your head before pulling you to his lips and placing a kiss to your forehead. Right before—

“Hey— ouch?”

It didn’t hurt; but he still felt the fingers pinching his tiny nipples — and heard your cheeky, “Why are they always hard? And why are you always shirtless, Jeon?”

He didn’t argue that changing into outdoor clothes didn’t count. Instead, the bright golden light you cast in his mind distracted him, taking him back.

You’d said that to him before; everything has changed since then.

“Why are you smiling like this?” you ask, holding a pack of four yellow apples in one hand, red ones in the other.

“Hm?” Jungkook rubs a hand over his cheek, feeling the glee in his countenance before flattening the dimples. “It’s nothing. I’m just liking how much fun you’re having.”

“I am! But most of all because I can’t wait to cook with you today.”

Your words instantly conjure pictures of a potential evening; idyllic ones mixing with utter chaos. Rushing and cutting and serving — but for one of the very first times together. Only milestones ahead.

A higher pitched gushing threatens to fall out of Jungkook, right here in the fruit aisle. But instead, you raise your hands again, asking, “Which ones?”

“Hmmm… neither. Let’s get the green ones.”

You let your arms fall, a finger pointing towards him, and say, “Ohhh. Good call.”

And then you proceed to complicate the cart labyrinth again. What a savagery. Jungkook waits until you’ve turned around and works on reorganising again, following his system. Then, he thinks — this could be draining, but it’s not.

Because you keep each other entertained. And neither of you bothers about the gapes you receive.

Not when he leans over the cart, shoving it in teeny tiny steps; continuing when he realises it makes you laugh.

Or, when you cheer once you find something the two of you like that nobody else enjoys; accompanied by exclaimed Ohhhhs and Haaas. And not as you argue when you find something to disagree about.

It seems that you do not dig dates, and he, the friendly omnivore, takes playful offence in that. He teases you across half the supermarket until you turn the tables, picking up an eggplant and interrupting him with a,

“Look! This is you.”

The roll of his eyes only veils his amusement a little, he’s sure. Because your enthusiasm remains steady, including the impish pull of his beige Supreme beanie over his eyes and a kiss to his cheek that paints the spot in a rosy dust.

Pointing to a glass of honey, Jungkook soon fights back, “And this is you.”

“…This is way too sweet and I do not know how to counter it.”

“Romance tends to make people speechless, darling.”

Your expression resembles an ellipsis; whether you’re out of answers or overwhelmingly affected by the selection of his words, he doesn’t know. He knows he’d short circuit if you ever said that to him.

“Fair,” is what you settle on, though, “wouldn’t I know what brain outages your romantic ass causes.”

You’re the model definition of a cheesy, movie-esque couple. Taehyung and Eun differ from the nature the two of you showcase; they already threatened to bring paper bags in case Jungkook and you overdo it tonight.

Can’t blame them. The world is certainly pink-tinted when you bicker and jest at the register; or when you hurry through an Ikea — courtesy of your last minute plan to buy plants — to make it home and cook in time.

Just this morning, you were daydreaming about the concept of furniture retailers and how such shops allow building a home with the most special person.

And then, as if wanting to clarify your sentiments, you turned in the car, facing him as you struggled with the belt, just to say, “Which is you for me. I’m building a home with you.”

Jungkook’s legs still melt into a puddle whenever he remembers the softness in your words, and the puppy gaze you threw as you finally leaned back in your seat.

Which is why it’s such a shame that the clock is ticking so relentlessly.

Because your initial elation turns into disapproval only for today as you wade through the labyrinthine, time-consuming design the store is so popular for. Trying to keep up with Jungkook’s pace and hastening across the rooms.

And even then, neither of your laughter ceases; you turn the most stressful situations into deep solace. The pressure soon gives way to a calm satisfaction the moment your apartment door opens.

You set up the few plants you brought; some under the window, some on the desk in the bedroom, right next to the Beauty and the Beast rose, and a jade plant in the living room. For good luck, you said.

And then, after resting for five minutes and abandoning all further breaks, you start work in the kitchen. Which proves as cooperative as he thought — that is, until you get into a friendly argument about whether to do the dishes now or later.

“One of us keeps cooking. The other washes up what we don’t need anymore,” Jungkook explains, repeating it over and over.

To which you keep defending, “Or. One cooks one dish. The other handles the second. And we finish cooking faster and then do the dishes together.”

His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, and he whines, “It won’t make much of a difference!”

“Well, if it doesn’t, then we could do either!”

“BUT… it might get crowded if we work at the stove at the same time, babe—”

“You just don’t trust me with th—”

“Keep yelling at me like that, and—” Jungkook interjects, and you wince a tiny bit; but he continues a mere, barely lasting moment later, “and I swear I’ll kiss you.”

Beat of silence. Your eyebrows are still furrowed. And then, amidst the agitation, you erupt into laughter. Blend it with the chortle he can’t suppress, either.

To Jungkook, the sound is akin to a song — and he could spin the record all day long.

Spoiler warning — you do not kiss. But the lively chuckles and free-spirited conversations dye the atmosphere and flavour it. Its sweetness feels like a feathery kiss, too.

And whether it’s that very unlimited sense of familiarity, gradually growing, or your unwavering teamwork at last — you’re surprised when the late afternoon transforms into an early evening, a dimly blue, cloudy sky already changing into different shades of grey.

Time passed fast; but the hour-hand on the clock still hasn’t quite moved to where you’re waiting for it to settle. Because back in the living room, you’re still an hour early. Your guests are invited for around six, but you can’t say when they’ll actually show up.

Seems you wrapped up work at a convenient time. Better now than late.

You kiss your teeth in the middle of the room, scanning it for something to do. It’s clean; pretty. Plants set up, table wiped, cushions neatly set on the couch. So you remark, “We were so stressed, I didn’t think we’d be finished already.”

Jungkook, already plummeting onto the far end of the couch, pats the spot next to him, saying, “That’s good. Gives us a bit of time to relax. Anything you wanna do?”

But you don’t sit down yet. You watch your manspreading boyfriend lean back, big inked hand wrapping around the remote control. You look at the open button of his shirt, and the singular hair strands; the side parting. The mole under his lips and the big eyes.

He just doesn’t notice it until the lack of a response continues.

“Huh?” he voices again, finger stopping over the power button before his eyes flit back to you.

You look deep in emotions and distracted; if he could guess, then even… ferociously yearning. He waits with a dancing heart until you admit boldly, “There’s plenty I can think of that I wanna do right now.”

You fold your hands behind your back, chest out a little, legs crossing. You curl your lower lip in, nibbling at it. It affects him, and you know. He sucks in air, a hand on his thigh. Blinking at you, and then poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

He leaves out a puff of a tiny laugh, shaking his head a bit. Nearly succumbing to the thought that…

Perhaps there’s an activity you can indulge in before they come, right—

Wrong.

Jungkook, no matter how tempted, throws another glance at the clock, and argues, “Stop thinking of eggplants. They’ll probably be here soon, so your smooth-talking is not allowed to work!”

Your body relaxes, back in its prior position; you pout for a second. “Fine. Then I’ll get dressed before anything else.”

Jungkook sighs in relief — close. Way too close. Tonight might just stretch his jeans if you keep this up; his blood is already abandoning his brain and putting its attention elsewhere.

But you’re well-mannered in the company of guests, right?

Only one way to find out — an hour to go.

Jungkook heaves his body off the couch merely ten minutes later.

And maybe even that was too early.

Maybe he should’ve waited for you to trudge out of the bedroom; or should’ve gotten his clothes and changed somewhere else. Because when he follows your steps to find a new attire for himself, too, you’re sitting at the very edge of the bed, dress already on.

It’s not too posh; rather casual. A green cotton one, pulled up to your hip because you’re dragging transparent tights over your legs. A patch of your thighs is still visible; part of your ass on display where your panties don’t reach. Skin far too empty without his kiss on it.

He doesn’t know how you do it; but within a moment, you elicit a plethora of emotions in him. Burning desire; comfortable warmth; cosy affection. You look so cuddled in in that autumn dress.

Pretty. So gorgeous; you’ll drive him insane.

But the craze doesn’t manifest in hunger this time, but gathers in a single breath, let out in a sigh. Which… makes you recoil. Your hand briefly bolts to your chest, eyes rolling, head shaking. You murmur a quiet, “Babe…” before resuming the task.

Jungkook watches as you lift your body to pull your tights over your ass and the dress back into place, and then reaches out a palm to you; urging yours to settle in it.

Still trapped in a cube of daydreams, he tugs you in until your grace radiates toward him, and then tells you—

“My baby is the prettiest ever. Ever, ever.”

You take his fawning with glowing cheeks, smile so unbelievably worth being alive as you answer, “Your baby isn’t sure if she deserves this so suddenly, but… thankful either way.”

Your voice is an endearing mix of soft and enthusiastic. The combination that breathes life into a room. You’re so…

“God,” he says, squeezing your hand, lifting his other fingers to touch the hem of your dress. Fixing it albeit already perfectly sitting. Then looks up; eyes dropping to your lips. “Maybe you were right. Want to kiss you stupid right now.”

And he would; he wouldn’t hesitate if you didn’t move a palm to his face, pressing a thumb to his plush mouth. Telling him, “Nope, too late. The make up wasn’t easy to do. And dark lipstick is hard to remove.”

Fuck, not when he’s kissing it off…

“I…” Gulp. “Fine, princess.” He removes your hand from his face, towing you back into the living room. “Then, what do we do now? Movie?”

“Nah… It’s so hard to stop watching. Gonna kick them out again if we start now. What about… hm.”

Your eyes dart across the room, and Jungkook takes the moment to suggest, “Or we could have some soju already? Or wine, beer, whatever?”

“Or…”

You wait. Jungkook follows your gaze to the back of the room, surprised when it falls on a peeking canvas behind another big plant pot. Oh — that’s still there. He never took it out, and neither did you. Protecting his privacy, probably.

But perhaps it’s lighting a bulb over your head, because you soon ask, “Or. Wanna give me a house tour?”

“A house tour? Don’t you know every corner already?”

“Yeah but,” you shrug, rounding the couch with him in tow, “I wasn’t always here. You organised the place the way you wanted to when you moved in, so you’d know it better. Like…” You point to the turned painting, “What’s that?”

“That’s… Remember the drawing I had in my notebook? Of Gureum?”

Quite a while ago. You visited him for the first time in Namjoon’s studio back then; recalled it at the exhibit, too. Crazy how sentiments have changed. From a silly play-pretend game to damaged souls to this…

You nod.

“Yeah so,” he continues, “I painted him on a bigger surface.”

Your eyes shoot open, genuine interest in them. “Oh? Can I see?”

“Of course.”

It’s not his best work, honestly; but it is close to his heart. A piece he still wants to improve and feature in his own exhibit once it rolls around. The colouring process will be interesting; it’s barely an outline yet.

But you seem to perceive it with utter fascination and sheer joy. Because the moment Jungkook heaves the canvas up, turning it for you to see, your chin drops. You gasp, mumbling under your breath, “You’re kidding!”

“…Do you like it?”

“It’s so cute! This is…” You lean in, taking in every detail; commenting on it. “He’s a fluffball! Oh my god, the tongue peeking out. He looks so happy.” When you look up into his eyes, Jungkook’s heart does a thing; and his cheeks the other thing. “You painted him from memory?”

“Mmh, maybe a couple details? But I got most of him from a picture my aunt sent me a while ago. He’s been looking much older these days and I wanted to capture him before he ages even more. Made me miss him so much.”

“Awwh, Kook…” You pout. “I really want to meet him one day.”

He looks at you with something knowing and so telling in his gaze; he feels it unveil through his own stare. The knowledge he possesses about something, and that you don’t.

You might notice hints of it, but you don’t question it. Listening when he responds, “You will. He really is a fluffball and remembers me even after months and years of distance.”

“I love him already.” You lift, straightening your back. Watching as Jungkook sets the painting back before you add, “Okay. House tour. What else?”

“Hmm. Let’s see. Come.” He leads you the short way to the cupboard, and you follow in tiny steps, like an explorer running from one treasure to another. So exhilirated. So fucking cute. “Look, these— and don’t laugh, these are precious to me.”

“Laugh?”

“…These,” he opens the cupboard doors, reaching to the far back, behind some decoration; and pulls out a deck of cards. “Are my Yu-Gi-Oh cards. I used to collect them long ago, but I’m never throwing them away. Also—”

Your lips are parted, your eyes focused. Eyebrows shooting up gently, delighted when he takes out another small object from the back.

“My Jiraiya figure that I got for my tenth birthday.”

“Holy shit… I really never bothered looking in hidden corners.” Yeah… but now that you are, you’re making this place your own, too. No, it already is yours, the way he is. He swoons at the thought. “This is so cool. Why would I laugh?!”

“Ah… Were you a Naruto fan?”

You tilt your head. “A little. More into Detective Conan, though.”

Jungkook wonders… How foolish might his smile be looking right now?

“You… keep surprising me, angel,” he says — and you seem to like the praise.

Because you light up, forefinger touching his chest as you reiterate, “See? The house tour wasn’t a bad idea at all! Look at us tracking back the path of our souls, too.”

Jungkook can’t help but chuckle. You’re a breath of fresh air to be around; so incredibly tender when you’re yourself. After all those weeks, you’re finally back to who he used to know. Not as sad anymore.

Never sick of the hand-holding, he grips your palm again, voice hushed when he orders, “Follow me, quick!” The mysterious journey leads you to the closet next; back to the quiet bedroom as he playfully shushes you. “I haven’t worn them in a long time, so you won’t know, but… Look, because the secret's out.”

You crane your neck to see what he’s referring to. And when you do, you coo and laugh straight away. Endlessly enraptured when he claims, “Wahh. They were my super-favourites.”

Iron Man socks. Obviously worn a hundred times; so, so him.

His bunny teeth flash in all their glory when he smiles, dimples out and corners of his eyes crinkly. He feels you hold his hand tighter, and you pick the most supportive tone when you say, “You need to start wearing them again! It’s so sweet when you’re geeky.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He stuffs them back, though not to the very bottom anymore; places them on top for easy access. And then, he continues, “Okay. One more thing for the glorious house tour, and we’re done. It’s another important sight, actually.”

“Ah. Oh?”

Barely a couple seconds later, you’re back to where the trip started. Following suit when he kneels near the table; swift beam spreading over your face when he clears his throat and narrates, “This… Is where I painted on you. Not on another medium, but I painted on you. Remember?”

You must. He rarely abandons paper and his usual colours like that; but you were the most marvellous masterpiece he ever covered. The most outstanding canvas he’s ever drawn on…

“I do.”

Your gaze falls sideways; are you remembering the same heart on your waist that he does? And how he touched it; smeared it under the shower water. How your back pressed into his chest, unknown what feelings you truly harboured, but never failing to showcase his own care to you.

The kisses on your shoulder. The whispers in your ears. The plea for you to stay.

“Of course I do. It was so calming,” you add, “and so beautiful.” You touch the soft carpet, plucking at its tiny fibres. “You consider it a sight at Jeon manor?”

He snickers at your choice of words, but then inhales, and very sternly says, “Yeah. We also had sex here, so it’s forever tainted. I remember it felt… like… we should do it ag—”

“Now it’s you saying these things!” You move a fist to his bicep, pushing against it lightly. “Be serious. Be romantic! It’s not the time to make me want you.”

“Oof, hey… For the record, I was being romantic! And also, I only want you more when you’re being sweet,” he rubs the spot you grazed; he barely felt it, “but seriously. I still remember everything I felt for you. And how crazy you drove me… and how vulnerable you were.”

You’re still stroking the fur of the carpet as you look into his eyes; and he sees a molten puddle in yours. Only one side of your lips lifts, but the softness in your voice is genuine, “I think I still am. Just a lot safer than before.”

“…Good. Me too.”

And that’s all.

That’s all his mind comes up with, because all the words and infatuation are locked in his heart, moving to his fingertips when he inches closer. He raises them to your chin. Knees near yours and close the yawning distance until your lips are a whisker away.

Funny — how his strong chest holds a feeble heart. Bursting and aching, full and yearning.

If he could, he’d stay here with you forever, just like that.

But. The two of you have a party to host.

And the suddenly ringing phone reminds you of it. Makes you flinch until your noses and foreheads touch, and you laugh, rubbing them as you tap the couch for the device. The two of you lean against the sofa, cosy on the carpet as you pick up.

He hears Eun’s voice announce through the phone, “We’re all here. Just a warning, because you better not be naked.”

You shoot a glance toward Jungkook. He snorts, and you start, “Why would we…”

“‘Cause we’re early for once. Taehyung didn’t need as much time with his hair today. So be prepared.”

Jungkook nods in confirmation. Taehyung usually needs to be told an earlier time when invited to an event or get-together.

There are sounds in the background, and he readies himself to register another voice. But not a second later, the doorbell chimes. Guess the two of you will have to wait with the bare devotion. 

Because for now, it’s time to indulge the gang. Let them stream in with vibrant greetings, wrapped gifts, endless booze and sweets as irresistible as you.

Jimin is the only guest coming in a little later, rushing straight from his shift. And Jungkook recognises quickly that he’s not Jimin’s first pick for conversation after a timid handshake and parting of ways.

There’s no enmity between them; Jungkook reckons it’s more the awkwardness from the Blue Night still lingering between Jimin and him. Maybe even some leftover guilt about how he used to perceive the younger man.

At least, it’s strange when he, eventually, does take a seat on the couch, separated from Jungkook only by a healing Yoongi. You’re busy talking to Eun, and Taehyung has escaped to the bathroom. Yoongi maintains a healthy atmosphere with casual talks and soft jokes.

But even if somewhat reluctantly, it seems that Jimin is at least trying when he leans back on the couch, enabling a better view to Jungkook as he asks, “Did you paint that one?”

Jungkook follows the finger pointing at the wall next to the window; nothing too out of the ordinary. Just colourful flowers. It’s okay. Better this than nothing to warm up to each other.

Turning on the couch, Jungkook waves a hand in denial as he explains, “Ah, no, no. She bought it because she thought it’s cute.”

“But you could paint that, too,” Yoongi argues, followed by Jungkook’s shy, “I guess.”

“Ohh, okay, okay. Well, since we’re talking about it. Even if you didn’t paint it,” Jimin says, “been wanting to tell you that I loved your exhibit stuff. Uhm, Eun showed me pictures. Hope that’s okay.”

That’s surprising. Jungkook considers himself gifted in this sense, but— having someone actually boast about his work for him makes him feel… accomplished? Appreciated.

No wonder you hold your friends in such high regard.

“Yeah! Of course. Thank you, Jimin.”

“It’s a pretty place, by the way.”

Yoongi wiggles a finger back and forth with an agreeing nod, snacking away, a quiet listener for the time being. There’s something amusing about it; makes Jungkook smile as he tells Jimin, “Thanks. And I’m glad you could come. Can imagine work’s a lot, so…”

“Yeah. No worries. Everything for our girl.”

Jungkook hums as the chat dies and the awkwardness returns. And then, he remembers—

Speaking of — where are you again? Still in the kitchen? Seems so. Or at least, moving away from it bit by bit.

Immersed in a conversation, holding the frame of the living room door, at the threshold to the anteroom. You’re discussing something with Eun, your expression focused. He can’t really make out your words because of those exchanged between Jimin and Yoongi, but…

A moment later, you do look at him. And then away again immediately — as if he caught you. A motion of your hand waves whatever cryptic topic off; and intrigued, Jungkook comes to a stand.

In vain — because Taehyung returns the same moment, babbling about whatever Yoongi just said. And you use the opportunity to march into the room, asking Jungkook to help you set the table for dinner.

To his chagrin, most of them offer to help momentarily. Taehyung swarms around you, insisting on plating, making it impossible for Jungkook to find a moment to ask what your conversation was about. And eventually, he gives up — if it’s important, you’ll tell him.

So for now, he relishes the evening your friends grant the two of you. They compliment the food, narrate short and long stories, watching Jungkook and you unwrap the gifts — board games from Jimin, cutting boards and wine from Yoongi, a stylish, modern thermostat from Taehyung and Eun.

The ecstasy overflows, the screeches probably making your neighbours think of you unhinged. Wine spills on the table; curses exchange; laughing turns into crying.

If anything other than this life is considered good, then Jungkook doesn’t crave that goodness. The unbridled chuckles, and your never-dropping smile are beyond everything twinkling and gorgeous already.

And he’s happy, too. Elated when you cover your mouth when you laugh; and overjoyed when you stand at the window after dinner, leaning forward. Breathing in the autumn air.

Jungkook follows once things wind down and the guests agree upon an appropriate volume. He mimics your stance, lower arms on the windowsill and hands hanging relaxed.

His fingers graze the withering flowers in the window box. They’re slowly dying by the hands of the approaching cold, and the rain keeps overwatering them. Yet… they still let it hurt them, holding on for as long as possible.

So in love with the shower.

It’s almost a bit tragic.

Jungkook refocuses, turning to you and asks, “What are you doing?”

Your head moves to the side, and you kill the remaining distance between you. Step close until you’re nearly nudging his elbow.

“Just,” you nod into a haphazard direction; into the outside world, “looking at the rain. Got a bit stifling in there.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook throws a glance over his shoulder. “Also, I think they’re getting drunk.”

“Mhmmm. Except Jimin. Poor him is looking at the alcohol so longingly. Did you notice that he didn’t drink?”

“Someone has to drive them home, and Yoongi with his healing injury is out. I offered, but Jimin insisted on taking care of them and not, as he said, bothering us. Super thoughtful, really.”

You smile, nodding along before you silence. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking of; or what you’re seeing. Maybe you’re truly only revelling in the rain; contrasting it with the sunshine you radiate.

Maybe he should look for a rainbow somewhere.

In the midst of the tranquil evening, your gape strays from the drizzle with a blink. It descends to his twirling thumbs, and then moves along the length of his arm. Jungkook notices your attention from the side, but only turns to look at you when he realises what you’ve fixated on.

You gesture towards the hues and outlines on his skin, delicately touching the writhing snake as you say, “Want a tour for them, too, if you’d ever allow. I imagine it could be fun.”

“Tattoo tracing?” His lips move into an endeared smile; you look so fascinated. Like you’re seeing them for the first time. “I’d be down. I could even…” His fingers journey to yours, gently leading them to the flowers. “I can even give you a sneak peek.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Look.” He guides your touch over the dazzling orange of his tiger lily. “This is me. Tiger lilies beg for love. I’ve always sought love, too.”

Your eyes change. He knows you see it, too — the urge to never be abandoned again, all the time.

He can nearly see your heart ache. And feels his own thump a thousand miles a second. A fraction of it breaks off and jumps into your chest, making it yours; it does it all the damn time until you hold the entirety of it in the palm of your hands.

Unhurried, he steers your finger further, stopping at the blue tint; clearly hears you draw a breath when he tells you, “And this… This is my girlfriend. She’s even prettier in real life… that’s right.”

For a bit, you’re speechless. Jungkook keeps admiring you in the forget-me-nots for another second, and when you don’t speak on, he meets your eyes. You’re shaking your head, and then — slowly wrapping an arm around his, moving close, head on his shoulder.

From this angle, your cheeks are demanding to be squeezed; eyelashes kiss them softly, your lips tempting curves when you laugh. Jungkook doesn’t get enough of you… and you don’t want to make it easier for him either.

Because, “Shit,” you say, “you were right about pining more when someone’s being romantic. ‘Cause you’re making me want you so bad, in every way. Are you… still up for kissing me stupid?”

“Ahh… babe.”

“I just… You excite me, too, you know?”

“Don’t say these things while they’re here, baby,” he warns, although as tenderly as anyhow possible, “you’ll give me a heart attack, I mean it.”

“Now you know how I feel all the time!” you tease, fingers flicking raindrops into his face out of nowhere.

Jungkook recoils and squirms, taken aback, but it takes him a mere second to play along. He gathers rain in his palms, threatening to toss it into your face; bickering chaos at the open living room window until your damp hands rejoin and delicate digits interlace.

And as he looks at the sad flowers again, the reality of the moment makes him think. How the two of you used to resemble the blossoms in your window box, once enduring the incessant melancholy, too.

Much like the flowers towards the downpour, Jungkook and you reached for each other while being watered by gloom — but unlike the flowers, you’re still sprouting and thriving into something vivid and fragrant. Not beaten by the agonising shower.

The rain hurt me, but I wanted to keep fighting. Because I hoped. Because I adored.

And in the end, him and you aren’t tragic like them. You will never wither — only bloom.

An hour later, the apartment is empty.

You opened all the windows to eliminate the suffocating air; and the hot water running in the sink soothes your cold skin. What a relief to watch the clinking dishes lessen; you sigh at the small amount still left, and Jungkook catches it immediately.

“See?” he teases, loading the dishwasher. Even that seems like a task after such a day; tidying up the living room was more than enough. “Good that we did most of it during and after cooking. It’s so much even now.”

Eyes heavy, you admit, “I should learn to listen to you more.”

He clicks his tongue, skipping a response, and then, out of the blue, says, “Angel… I could get used to this.”

“To me listening to you more?”

“Yes. But no. To you being here.”

You glow up, even though you’re still facing the sink, smile a little hidden, “You need to. Because I’ll be annoying you all the time.”

“Oh, I believe you.”

You hit him with a spoon, wetting the spot a bit before handing the cutlery to him. Delivering a head tilt, he smirks. Amused before he remembers something and asks, “Hey. What were you and Eun talking about earlier?”

“Hm? When?”

“Before dinner. It looked serious.”

You halt mid-movement. Did he catch something? Maybe. But you only insist, “Nothing special. About her graduation… you know, since it’s pretty soon.”

Huh. Doesn’t seem to quite cut it.

“Mmmh. Anything else?”

You feign a thoughtful moment, as if you’ve wiped your memory clean off whatever she said to you. Then, you tell him, “Yeah. I told her how you played around with the recipe and came up with the best dinner ever. And how hot you looked doing it.”

“…You said the last bit, too?”

“No.” Jungkook blows a raspberry before comically pressing his lips into a line, eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault. I mean, do you know how attractive is it to be among people and know that this one person is still only looking at you?”

Oh, all too well…

“I would definitely know,” he chuckles. “Shit. You’ve been testing me tonight, you know?”

“…How?”

“All those compliments and ambiguous statements.” You shrug your shoulders in apparent innocence, muttering a small, ”It’s true" before he digs, “Anyway, don’t distract me. Anything else she said?”

Perhaps you’re done playing games. And perhaps you should’ve kept doing just that; because your next answer is a much greater tease.

“…I’ll tell you about it soon enough.”

Jungkook squints, organising a plate into a free spot, playfully disgruntled, “Unfair.”

“Hang in there.”

“Alright. You’re lucky I trust you.”

Your grin is gaping wide, and he attempts his best to ignore it. But when you add an evil snicker to it, regarding him with pure mirth in your eyes, he folds, “What?”

“Nothing. You’re just so cute. You’ll keep acting like you’re digging, but still always know when to respect my decisions. Maybe the bar is low? But I find trust ridiculously attractive.” You throw a longing smile at him, bringing a damp fingertip to his cheek to poke. “And to top it off… You’re so pretty, too, and I’m just… enamoured from all sides and—”

You wait and he uses the moment to wipe his cheek on his shirt. But when you don’t speak on, he spurs you on, “…And?”

“And I want you so bad.”

The plate waiting to be set into the dishwasher drops on the counter. Jungkook stares up, regarding the ceiling with a seemingly agitated look. You don’t know what’s truly whirling in him, so you warily ponder, “…What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Jungkook turns the water off, taking the cups from your hands and placing them in the sink. He shakes his palms off the liquid, and then whispers, “Okay. Later.”

The hold around your wrist is firm, and the tug firmer. Determined, he leads you out of the kitchen, slapping a hand over the light switch; your eyes are wide when you ask, “Wait, we’re not do—”

His answer is predictable; yet, you didn’t foresee it. Because—

“Bedroom. Right now.”

THE MORNING OF THE CONFESSION

Unlike you, Jungkook has considered himself a night owl ever since he entered the bustling world of college. Settling in the city was a stirring experience, and the thrill of it, along with a girlfriend, exams and newfound friends, kept him up until the sun rose again.

He enjoyed what he did, too. Loved school, so he didn’t mind the fatigued eyes during lectures. Truly one of the handful of joys that helped rid his head of the brain fog he bestowed upon himself after each long, sleepless night.

And he was an avid participant in classes despite his sheepish persona — they shook him awake, the late afternoon workouts obliterating the rest of the exhaustion. Maybe that’s why he was so reluctant to flake out for the night, too; still energised.

But while Jungkook carried the spirit of a straight-out-of-the-high-school-freshman who disliked falling asleep early, he despised waking up at the break of day just as much.

Would groan, blinking into the sun, with no one to blame for his agitation but him. No matter how deep his fascination for his studies and how quick the fading of his initial irritation — the first few minutes of every day were pure agony.

Jungkook is still a night owl. Still wants the nights to stretch, albeit for other reasons now. But his attitude towards mornings has changed.

There’s a shift in his preferences now; you moved his universe by an inch, altered it so effortlessly. Suddenly, he doesn’t regret rising with the sun next to him. He doesn’t curse the groggy feeling anymore.

There’s a silky touch he seeks every single morning that his eyes open to, lips he follows with his own blindly. You’re a permanent presence now, air and fire to his lungs, and he feels the freshness, feels the burn whenever your fingers brush his shoulders upon waking up.

He won’t need to check in at work for a few hours still; yet, sleeping in would mean losing the minutes that you’re still here before walking out the door until the evening.

He’ll sacrifice a slumber for this. Voluntarily.

And it’s crazy how none of this requires any sort of effort or pleading from your side. How all you need to do is to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Those extra moments, no matter how fleeting, grant him a little more time on Earth with you, and he grasps it greedily. Even when you spend it teasing the hell out of him. Or, even when you wake up with scorching cheeks and endearing, high pitched complaints.

Like today.

“I still can’t believe yesterday,” you say.

“It’s okay.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard. Thinking about it, can I really show my face at the wedding? I’ll probably make things worse.”

Jungkook keeps glancing at the back of your head, the loose bun shaking with your movement. Smoothly, his fingers trace up and down your back; a gesture he started randomly and continued the moment you mumbled, “I like it… continue?”

Sat between his legs, you’ve been swaying for a while, both uneasy and amped about the approaching event. And to Jungkook, it’s as sweet as it is frustrating to see your brain fuming like that.

“Come here, baby,” he demands, content when you reverse into him. He wraps his arms around your chest, pulling you to his body, and presses a pillowy kiss to your temple. “You’re overthinking again. I promise you, we’ll make sure you have the most fun.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard,” you repeat, and Jungkook kisses his teeth.

“You’re a clown, I’ll admit,” you whine his name, and he laughs, “but I’m telling you. I know my mom and that was her I-like-you voice. Which I didn’t doubt for a second, by the way. Like, she really seems happy with how my life has turned out, and with whom. As am I. Understand?”

One more kiss to your scalp. He swings you from side to side, ignoring the ticking of the clock. In a few, you’ll be leaving the apartment, and Jungkook will need to kill the hours until he joins Namjoon at work. 

He shouldn’t be missing you already; but he still holds you tighter. Tighter until you let out a little groan, a hand on his arm. He can’t read your thoughts or decipher whether his promise helped; because you don’t answer yet.

Only wait for a few seconds, allowing him to wallow in your warmth until you call, “…Jungkook.”

“Mhh?”

“Talking about life and stuff… did you always imagine yours to be like this? Just curious.”

“Like this?” he ponders, mentally intertwining every current branch of his life into one healthily growing tree. He’s liking it. “Well… I graduated. An exhibition ahead that’ll hopefully bring me a step closer to my own studio and profession.”

You hum in pride, tapping his arm as an affectionate reward. He continues, “I do what I love, have some great friends… and I get to spend my days with my favourite person? Doesn’t sound too bad to me.”

You crane your neck to look at him; your lips are so close to his, tilted into a smile that’s so unbelievably you. “You called me that last night, too.”

“Huh? Oh, that’s right. And… I mean it. Like. Now that you’re here, it’s even clearer somehow?”

“…How so?”

“Mmh… whenever I used to get home, I’d think of what to eat and of showering and going to sleep. And when I come home now, the first thing I think of is you. What we’d cook tonight. Or what we might watch or talk about. You’re…”

He feels your chest rise under his limbs; a sigh of fondness as he knows it best.

“You’re the one I want to spend all my time with.” He pauses when you look at your blanket-covered lap, hiding your twinkling eyes. “So it’s clear.”

“You always sound so hopelessly…”

You halt mid-sentence, the touch against your arm tensing — much like his own heart, jumping to the next beat with a heavy thud. You shake your head; Jungkook doesn’t get to dwell in further thoughts… still doesn’t have the words for them yet.

Or doesn’t want to admit them yet.

If he thought about them long enough and arrived at a conclusion, would you think he’s rushing your relationship? Would it scare you?

Better not find out yet.

So he lets you talk and listens, “Anyway. So, is there anything, like… more? That you want to achieve someday? Or that you think of sometimes before you go, that’s still left for me to do.”

How fitting.

Pretending to be sinking into thoughts, Jungkook hums, letting his chest vibrate against your back, and then answers truthfully, “Yeah? Maybe a couple things. We’ll see them with time when I gather the courage to tackle them.”

“Like what?”

“Hmm… am I allowed to say that already?” More simulations, teasing you with a fake distant gaze and a hissing inhale of air. “I’m not sure. You’ll know.”

“Hey! That makes me nervous.”

“No need.” You interrupt his speech with another sound of disapproval, pulling a dorky, infectious chortle out of him; his nose scrunches up. “I’m kidding. I’m talking about all the goals I have for my career. I don’t want to stop, no matter what. Keep going and keep striving for more.”

You nod; someone as hard-working as you would understand. In a sense, you’re a role model to him, too — a sentiment that you, as you have often emphasised, reciprocate.

Yet, you advise, “Just don’t overwork. Think of Icarus! We can’t always get more than more, you know? There’s happiness in satisfaction with what we have, too. But either way…” You angle your legs, pulling them close; cuddling into him more. “I’ve got your back.”

And perhaps that’s one of the gazillion traits he cherishes so much about you.

Your position at work is reputable and treasured, and you could easily push him to work harder, too. Could want him to match your career success, because it’s more or less guaranteed for you.

But you don’t. You stand by his side, prioritising his happiness and mental strength, albeit unaware of how his future might turn out. When you say you’ve got his back, he believes you.

“I know,” he says, lips in your hair, breathing you in. “Yeah… I know.”

“Hmmm… okay,” you move on, “what about me? Do you have any expectations? Certain standards and rules? I just,” you reach forward, tugging the blanket over your chest and his arm, “I feel like that’s something one should talk about. Tell me if it’s too much, though.”

“No, you’re right. But honestly? Is it… is it weird to say that you’ve kinda become a standard?”

“…I— What do you mean?”

“I just mean that… I’m never going to tell you that I expect you to be loyal and kind because it’s the bare minimum, right? Who doesn’t want all that? I know you are, so I don’t need to say it. So I don’t have any other expectations from you; these things are already the foundation of our relationship. Just. Mmh, how do I say it?”

He thinks for a moment, but you’re nodding, as if you’ve already understood. But his thoughts don’t end here; they’re just difficult to word. In his mind, they’re clear, but upon having to express them, he doesn’t quite understand the concept of language anymore.

Curses its limitations.

But then, as emotions gingerly gather to a coherent sentence at last, he tries to explain:

“Rather than adhering to any rules or standards I could have, I feel like you’re building them for me. You make me have a type, you know?” He feels you dissolve in his arms as he taps between your clavicles. “And that’s you. I don’t want anyone if I can’t have you.”

Did he go off track? Possibly. But you don’t seem to mind.

Because your voice is painfully sweet and miniscule when you speak, on the brink of losing the fight against the tremble, “But you have me. Pinky promise that you do, for a long, long time.”

Yeah… yeah, he does. And he’d be damned if he let this go.

Because if he ever did — if he ever so foolishly lost you again after combating these cruel storms, you’d still remain his standard. He’d look for you in each face passing, and in every laugh sounding.

The blueprint. And an everlasting memory.

Does it make sense? He doesn’t know.

And it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re right here.

“I’ll take your pinky promises,” he says, overjoyed as he crosses his legs over your shins, peppering more kisses onto your cheeks, the corner of your eyes, on your ear. He speaks in between your sighs and quiet laughs, “What about you? What do you want?”

“I… I don’t think I’ve ever had any expectations either, but. The wedding and—” You hesitate, as if considering dropping whatever you were going to list; and then you start anew, “The wedding made me think, and I— I just want to have so much fun with you.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“I want all the ordinary things we do to feel special because it’s us doing them. And I don’t ever want us to regret anything, so… I want us to be brave.”

“Brave? Well, you’re already the strongest and bravest person I know.”

“Braver. I want to live without restraints. And I don’t want to overthink anymore.”

Hmm…

Jungkook has seen your jumbled up thoughts before. The pain you cause to your mind sometimes, and the zoned out eyes painting pictures of what you fear the most.

He knows that feeling. Has battled one too many beasts to lessen the ache; even if it’s not always possible. Even if he seeks reassurances sometimes, too. And maybe that’s the prominent and sole reason why he never dismisses your disquiet.

Why push you away if you’re already at an impasse? Why not lead you out of the maze?

“Take it easy, okay?” he soothes, letting his grip around you fall bit by bit to search for your fingers instead. “Restraints can’t beat us.”

“Yeah! I’m hopeful.”

“You should be.” Because thinking of all you’ve fought within the span of a couple weeks… “You’re the first person to show me that there’s no reason to be scared, you know?”

“Then…” You sit up, curling your fingers around his hand, lifting it mid-air in sudden eagerness. “Just imagine how life could go, right? We could go to the ocean. Oh.” You gasp, sucking in air. “Oh my god! The Great Barrier Reef!”

“Ohhh, that’s actually a solid bucket list item. And then, bungee jumping?”

You nod zealously; lacking your fingers’ mobility required to list things, you instead knock your intertwined hands against your thigh each time to come up with something new. Like now, “Cliffs. And northern lights, too. I’ve always wanted to see them.”

Reflexively, you look up.

Stare at the glued-on stars from last night, and the now missing projection you dozed off to. An effective visual lullaby; you didn’t even stir when Jungkook turned it off, tucking you in properly. In your blanket; in him.

“Hell yes,” Jungkook confirms.

“But the first stop’s your hometown… and the wedding. I want to meet your family and be super awkward about it.”

Jungkook laughs, forehead falling forward against your head. He shakes it for a second, and then recalls, “Ah… so chickens and family awkwardness. What else?”

He didn’t expect this to work out before he asked you. Considering you’ve barely started at Novaura, he anticipated gentle rejection. But now that it’s become a certain event in the incredibly near future, his heart pounds every time you mention it.

Because…

You in a dress. You in his house. You, dominating over every single heart that’s dear to him.

And it seems you’ve already thoroughly thought about this, because your answer shoots out of you like a bullet, “Wanna dance with you. And kiss you under the lights.”

“Angel… you’re over the moon about this, aren’t you?”

“…Too obvious?”

You allow a fleeting glance back to him before your eyes fall down to his bare arm, ending in a hand clinging to yours; covered in ink, much like the rest of his right limb. He knows you’re staring at the flowers without asking.

And as if knowing, reading your soul, he doesn’t find himself surprised when you suggest, “And then… one day… What do you think? Should I get a tattoo someday, too?”

“Totally, if that’s what you want. What would you wanna get?”

“Flowers to match? I don’t know. Maybe you can draw on me. Here,” you lead his hand to your thigh, sticking there for a while until you move up to your hip. “Or here.”

He wonders how focused your thoughts are right now. Because if they are, and you’re not fixating on the changes of his skin, you probably won’t register the countless goosebumps under his tattoos.

A giddy sensation spreads throughout his body, collecting in his chest and tummy. Memories of a nearly bare body, painted in his dozen colours returning. And then, pictures of the same hues blurring, smudging.

He breathes an exhale, insane at the thought of kissing those lines. Of lips trailing up your skin, stopping at your hip, dying a pleasant death.

Fuck.

“I… I would. I’ll paint you any day.”

His words come out more airy than intended, fingers itching to pinch your chin, to move your face to his. To slide down the mattress, to kiss your lips swollen, making out with you until the sun sets…

But the world is cruel and too real; the clock still ticks until he realises that freezing in place isn’t an option right now. So he says, “As much as I hate to say this… You should get ready for work.”

You groan; there’s something sweet about your unwillingness to go. Relatable. And it sticks until the exhaustion washes away with each second. Small breakfast in, clothes on, newfound work spirit restored.

Must be a good day approaching. 

And you’ve been enjoying the recent ones, he assumes. Despite being so good at what you do, there’s a clear difference in how you tackle a day at Charmante versus at Novaura.

And you confirm it when he accompanies you to the entrance, bidding you goodbye until you meet again later, “What I love most about Novaura is that they don’t feel the need to communicate everything with Mom. They’re their own independent world and trust themselves.”

“Right… You as someone equally independent will fit right in, so they’re lucky to have you there. Makes me wonder, though.” Jungkook pauses, watching you grab your jacket from the wall hook, “Are your Charmante people okay with you being at Novaura so much?”

A COUPLE DAYS LATER

“…I really don’t know if I can do this.”

Well, shit. Wasn’t he ready to strive for more, run endlessly until his feet tired? Where is the dread suddenly emerging from?

Jungkook has barely set his sketchbook down when lightning bolts head for him.

Countering his concern with kissing eyebrows, Namjoon’s full lips purse, dimples gone as he wonders, “What are you even talking about?” — Much at the same time as you utter a threatening, “Shut up,” pastry lifted, ready to throw at him.

Jungkook shies away from the table, ready to dodge your attack; returning when you place the crumbly croissant back on your plate. He presses his lips together before smacking and kissing them, finger rolling the pen over his sketches, but eyes fixated on Namjoon’s notebook.

“I’m serious. There’s so much to do until November, and I… how do I get so much done?”

“But,” Namjoon knocks against the random drawing open on the table, “you already have so much to show. And you can revamp stuff from college, too. Besides, it’s okay to try your best and be scared at the same time, Jungkook! That’s part of a growing artist’s job.”

“But, are you sure I’m a growing artist?!”

Namjoon mutters something under a breath, and you add something unintelligible to the reassuring mix. Jungkook’s worried gaze remains on the rough lines of pencil on paper, teeth repeatedly nibbling his lower lip. Baring his mole.

He closes the sketchbook, staring at the golden, imprinted letters on a dark black background. He’s filled a quarter of it already; the very piece you gifted him for his birthday almost a month ago.

In some way, opening to a blank page serves as inspiration alone. You furnished him with something so simple yet gorgeous; thoughtful engraving to use as a reminder to hold onto his efforts.

But…

Amidst the lasting zeal, he’s been racking his brain. Because. What if he immerses himself in this, spending hours tainting his fingertips in different tints — only to steer towards failure?

What if it doesn’t work out? And he ends up not amounting to much, other than trying his luck online and living on a bare minimum of a salary? Would he start tutoring young, aspiring artists?

And you…

You’re diving into a stable job, well-paid, well-known. If you end up carrying both of you on your shoulders… would you think of him as a washout? Grow frustrated and dissatisfied?

You’ve been repeatedly declaring your unswerving support, but what if you some day do realise that…

Ugh.

He stuck to this passion with the full knowledge he would never fall out of love with it; but now that he’s working for his dreams, the process seems so scary all of a sudden.

“And I’m at the wedding, too…” he says.

He leans back in his chair, moving his pupils away from the paper and instinctively up to you. More concerns threaten to tumble off the tip of his tongue, but when your eyes suddenly flicker with disappointment, his lips shut again.

You blink, unsure, before you ask, “Do you… not want to go? We could totally stay here if you need the time.”

Oh… 

Hadn’t you gushed about the event day in, day out now, he would’ve maybe believed your words. And in some sense, you probably do think of the alternative as okay, as long as he profits from it.

But he sees it in your eyes. And not just in yours — he’s been as enthralled by the idea as you. Which is why…

“No,” he responds, “no. We will go.”

Because the prospect of winding down with you has been keeping him sane. Doting on you under the countryside stars, showing you all you haven’t seen before, body to body dancing with you…

He’s not missing out on that, no matter what.

And god knows you need the break, too… especially after the utter hysteria last Friday…

“Kook, think about it. You need to be absolutely sure,” you argue, genuine worry in your gaze; from his side eye, he sees Namjoon nod in confirmation.

“I am. We’ll go, baby, okay?”

You don’t avert your gaze; your mouth closes a little, but you stay unblinking, waiting for his mind to change. He knows because he sees the thoughts floating at the surface of your eyes.

Like you’re still pondering; of course you are. As someone who’s been working hard for their career, even if just for a few months, you’d know. Who’d understand if not you?

The trance lingers between the two of you, and Jungkook lifts his lips, a vow and certainty in his smile. Moment only broken when Namjoon clears his throat and encourages once more, “Give it a shot, Jungkook… Those high-profile people need to see what you’re capable of! I mean, we’re so lucky to have them coming to our exhibits.”

Namjoon gestures randomly, across the small restaurant as he says, “Say what you will about this city, but we lure in quite a few esteemed artists for sure.”

“Who says something about this city?” you ask.

“I do,” Namjoon’s voice is soothing. One thing Jungkook has learned about him is that his flowery mind never rests. Lyrical; not always easy to understand. “I love and hate it. Leaving it, living it.”

He pauses, sipping on his diet coke before smacking the taste away and ordering, “Ask me anytime if you need any help, alright? And be confident.”

“And… what if it does work?”

Your gentle laugh sounds from the opposite side of the table, the straw of your milkshake on your tongue. The rhythmic melody calms something deep in him; perhaps more because he understands your reaction.

You’re just as cute worrying about things that he knows you’d ace.

“Well,” Namjoon starts, aware that Jungkook knows; still annihilating his unease, “the guy is ready to buy your art. If it goes well, he’ll sponsor you. Then, at some point, you’ll be able to afford your own studio and grow as an artist. Ideally.”

“Ah… ah, really…”

”Kookie,” your voice calls; you lean over the round table, shoving the milkshake aside, “don’t worry. And in the most unlikely case that it doesn’t go as planned, know that I’ll cheer you on either way.”

“And me too,” Namjoon raises a hand.

Your finger swings to and fro between Namjoon and you, and your expression changes from empathic and soft to the sweetest, most gut-wrenching smile he’s ever seen. The apples of your cheeks lift, pupils sparkling when you vow, “We’re here for you.”

He…

He could look at you all day, blinking be damned. Could pour out his emotions every second of every minute of every hour, and it’d still not match the endless letter his heart keeps crafting for you. 

Disregarding how much of a shipwreck the two of you were last Friday, his chest has still lightened ever since; an epiphany has never been sweeter.

Because…

The words he couldn’t compose into a poem before are now an ardent confession, with rhymes and a melody and infinite beauty. Roaming his mind nonstop, caught in that baby pink bubble.

When had his senses last heightened this much?

Because somehow, he still feels the damp trail of tears he cried that night. And the heart that beat against your cheek. You, frozen against him, processing his words.

If there are ways to make him fall in love harder, you’ve been presenting them all the goddamn time.

And fuck, it’s been hard focusing on anything but you.

Like, on paying. Or on upholding a conversation with Namjoon — assuring him he’d be back in the studio in a bit as he prepares to bid you goodbye for the day.

To his chagrin, the walk to your car isn’t long. It’s parked at a corner, convenient for lunch dates like these; you promised you’d join one with Joon at some point, and you did. Forty-five minutes passed too quickly. Felt like a moment.

“Namjoon is so nice!” you comment, hands in the pockets of your denim jacket.

You keep swaying back and forth, from your heels to your toes and back. Your smile and movements suggest a free spirit, but your risen shoulders and the shallow crease between your eyebrows drench you in something tense.

You’ve been like that since you suggested staying, focusing on his work.

“He’s so wise, too, really,” Jungkook responds, close to you in case your swinging moves leave you tumbling, “like, a cool mix between calm and dorky. I’ve been learning so much from him.”

“Jeon Jungkook and his love for his mentor. You will never stop talking about him.”

Jungkook shrugs, a hand to the nape of his neck, face warming, “He’s cool, what can I say?”

“Yeah.”

And once again… he sees you gulp. Unsure, pupils flickering. You usually don’t struggle maintaining eye contact. So he soon wonders, “Are you okay? I… I hope you didn’t misunderstand what I said earlier. I really do want to go to the wedding.”

“Hm?” you voice, chin lifting a bit before you dispute, “Oh. No, I believe you. If you say it’s okay, then that’s how it is.”

“What then?”

“What do you mean? Do I really seem like something’s up?”

“A little.”

“Uhm…”

You roll up your eyes as you dig into your thoughts. Scouring your brain for whatever might be meandering in the back of your mind. Hm… seems you’re not fully cognisant of the subtle change in your behaviour, either?

So maybe, it means nothing after all.

Then again. It must be something.

Because in hindsight, he didn’t only notice today, but all weekend, too—

Oh…

Maybe you’re just getting used to the new developments; maybe they’re just making you a bit bashful like him. Maybe…

Okay. Deep breath. He just needs to make it sound like a joke, nothing pushy or odd or awkward because—

“Or is it because I told you I love you? Have I scared you off already?”

He watches your breathing stop. As though flexing an x-ray stare, watching your lungs dry up, air stuck in your throat until it escapes through your nose. Honestly… he’s been feeling the same.

“No!” you answer, tone breathy, pulling a hand out of the pocket to sprightly push at his shoulder. He barely budges. “Of course not. All that does is make me want to faint.”

Jungkook chuckles, delighted when your laugh matches his own. He doesn’t always know how to take a compliment either; but you fix your speechlessness with that glow on your face. Fills his own body with fairy dust, too. 

His dimples are valleys when your fingers move to his open jacket, grazing the zipper and filling the seconds with quiet tenderness. He doesn’t know what to say to you until you let the silence prolong and then giggle into it once more.

If he could just dive into your brain. But all he has are his own, messy thoughts.

And those tangled thoughts say—

“Angel… Can I kiss you?” Now his lungs are collapsing, too. Worse, so much worse when you look into his eyes, still so surprised at every sliver of affection he signs. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

No… he needs to. Needs to blossom in this breezy weather. But he won’t tell you that.

He’ll just keep looking at you. One second, two seconds — until you’ve raised your hands to the collar of his jacket to move him closer, soon sneaking your touch further up to his neck. A miniscule and wordless hint of approval, and he basks in it avidly.

Twitching palms hesitate for only the subtlest of moments before they’ve dashed up to your cheeks, cupping your face and leaning in and…

Lock.

A picture of a lock. And of its key.

The first thing to flash into his mind.

Because how do his lips fit so perfectly between yours? When you touch him like this, delicate fingers caressing his jaw, how do you feel so much like a feather? And the damn way you sigh into his mouth… how you reciprocate the kiss.

He will never tire of telling you, telling himself, that you match him just like the ocean complements the shore. And it’s baffling. How perfect this feels, and how right it feels.

You do make the ordinary extraordinary.

Like a kiss that is shared a million times a day, between so, so many people. But you’re moving your lips against his. Holding onto him, tilting your head, soaking in his warmth. Going tentatively, then a bit faster, then slow again.

For the merest moments when your mouths part, you gasp, inhaling before pushing your fingers into his hair, at the back of his head. Then back against him, seeking his tongue; such soft sounds meeting his that he swears he could cry.

Cry about the shiver down his spine and the flutter in the pit of his stomach. About the world becoming a backdrop to everything in the middle of the pavement; and about how his thoughts only revolve around your shared breaths and the feeling of your warm cheeks. 

Just you.

You, you, you.

Still too far away. Why do you drive him so incredibly mad?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He loves you. He loves you.

Under a breath and against your soft pillows, he mutters your name; so airy that he barely recognises his voice. His tongue drags over your lower lip, pecking one more time before he establishes an intruding distance between you.

Your foreheads touch for a transient bit, thumb skimming your cheek. When he opens his eyes, yours are still shut, and you’re feeble in his grip. And then, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

You swallow again. Take a breath before admitting, “You’re right. There’s something I want to ask you, and I was so stupidly… nervous about it.”

“Yeah?”

“The whole gang, they… they’ve been planning something. They paid for it and all, but they’re waiting for me to give them an answer, so they know if I need to pay them back or if they should cancel or, or—”

He interrupts your ramble with a soft, “Tell me, babe.”

“Okay,” your eyelids finally open up; your gaze is so hazy when you look at him. “It’s a trip. Four days, three nights, during the wedding week.” He hasn’t said a word when you hurry to add, “But, we can leave earlier. It’s a road trip kinda thing to the mountains and the beach and. They want us there, too.”

”Oh.”

“…Yeah.”

“I… Baby.” He moves back, shaking his head. He was careful not to ruin your hair, well aware you have half a work day ahead of you; but he still brushes a strand back. “Were you and Eun talking about that two weeks ago?”

“Yeah. And Tae also said I should be the one to ask because you’d like that. But then things happened and all the stress and…”

“But… even before that. Why were you so nervous asking me about it for so long?”

“Because,” you answer, one shrug of your shoulders, “I wanted to wait and see how you feel about the exhibition and the workload. And you already have limited time because of the wedding and I didn’t want to take away more of it.”

He can’t help but beam; why does this feel… endearing? Mirrors his own thoughts when he asked you about accompanying him to the wedding.

“We really do have the same brain, don’t we?” he asks.

“You’d think we’d learn.”

You say it lightheartedly, yet gnaw on your lips. He tongues the inside of his cheek, keeping eye contact, and then queries, “There’s something else, right?”

“Ah, just.”

You look unsure, trying to make sense of your thoughts, but your uncertainty makes him uncertain, too. So he exhales before he prods, “What? What what? Is it something bad?”

“No! Just. They’ve been wanting to do this since the summer. They never talked about it to me because you and I were… you know.” You kiss your teeth, and he uses the second to whoosh away the aching memories. “But they never cancelled for us, either.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because they’d say, and I quote, ‘Just wait.’ They knew we couldn’t stay away from each other even before we did.” You laugh. “Eun told me that day in the kitchen.”

Even before you did?

Untrue. He knew he didn’t want to live without you the moment you left his apartment, tear-soaked and heartbroken.

“Okay…” he starts, “and you were worried because?”

“Because you always get so sad when I talk about the summer. Explaining the context of the trip seemed hard to me, and I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”

Oh…

Shit, man.

“You’re… ahhh… my sweet baby.” He wants to hug you to his chest and never let go. But you’re already running out of time, lunch break nearing its end, so he only grips your shoulders. “You know that it gets better after two minutes, no? Because whatever happened, I have you now.”

He flicks your chin as he has been lately; it cheers you up. Makes you smile a bit, conjures the pout away. Adding to the effect when he says, “Don’t worry so much, my love.”

Another inhale. Then, you admit, “I’m sorry. I dragged it out.”

“It’s okay.”

“So… would you come? Do you think you could take some time off work and all? I’d understand if it’s too much.”

“Hmm… Right before the wedding, isn’t it?”

“Mid-october, yes. We could leave earlier!” you reiterate, hellbent on assuring he’s not obligated to do anything. So sweet, how you scratch your head. “They’d drive on. It’s convenient because it’s all in the same week.”

“Mountains and beach, you say.”

“If you don’t like them, we can stay at the hotel and chill together.”

Shit.

His grin widens with each heartbeat; you notice, because despite your suggestions, you sound more lively now.

And yet, it’s funny you’d question all these things like this at all. Don’t you remember damp cheeks and gentle touches?

Just days ago.

How he was still trembling when you left Eun’s complex. How he stopped you before climbing into the car, much like now, mumbling a timid, “Angel…”

And then retracting when his heart combusted. Looking into your eyes, still red, his own mind filled with nervous fear before settling on, “Nothing. Let’s go home.”

Or how you cried in the living room. How you broke down, terrified he might walk away. How his breath quivered, how his head spun, how he felt like he might throw up or faint or scare you off.

The damn sickness in his stomach until he spat the hidden words for the first time. And the pounding of his heart when you responded with a mumbled, “Kook… How.”

And… how his chest constricted at everything that followed after that. Don’t you remember?

In spite of every indication he threw your way — you still worry so much.

Funny you’d be so nervous around someone who wants to see the entire world with your hand in his.

What did you call it again? Wanting to be brave.

So fucking easy with you.

“How about…” he begins, staring into anticipating eyes, hearing a storm of cheers rumble, “going shopping before we leave?”

Your demeanour changes momentarily. The unsure girl, afraid to hurt him, soon finds her way back to her foundation. You light up, a hand over your mouth; your cheeks must be hurting. 

You deliver one, short jump and then pull him back in, kissing his lips once before scattering a couple more pecks next to them. He soon finds himself pushing you towards your car, forcing you back to work, but you have a thousand things to babble about.

He’s adoring all the bright stars in your eyes — now he understands how you feel when you see the same universe in his.

It’s crazy. How effort is never required from your side for him to feel that way. How you only need to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Stay stay stay.

The word sails and wafts through his dazy thoughts like a silent prayer. Begging and begging; pleading to allow him to pour all his love on you, although he doesn’t need to ask. You always let him anyway.

And he guesses he’s using that permission thoroughly. Maybe that’s why keeps craving and burning for more; why he’s been holding you tighter these nights.

His tiger lily pressed against your heart.

*head in hands* they are so crazy for each other, pls 😭 warmth and reassurances and support and bickering literally build the foundation of their relationship and i love them sm :') for some reason the editing process knocked me out, but i still adore this one so so much, and i hope you guys did, too!! 🥺

feedback is always so so appreciated!! you guys are literally such a freaking supportive bunch and have kept this series alive for so long and i love you to death :( here's to the first one this year!! as always, please consider leaving a like, reblog (with or without feedback!), comments and spammm my inbox with everything that's on your mind hehe <3 any kind of msg makes my day!

and nowww!!!!! moving on to cmi: palette and VACAYYYY!!! mwah mwah 🤍

[drabblesandsnippets]

Sunshine - Part 5

Hot Bucky Summer 2024 - Week 9

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky x Plus-size female character (nickname is Sunshine)

Prompt: FREE WEEK | [Optional Prompts: “W” - Wax Play, Watersports, WAM (Wet & Messy), Weapon Play] @buckybarnesevents

Summary: (4k) Series Masterlist Bucky’s confession tests the bond of their relationship.

Warnings: 18+ Only. Slow burn. Grumpy/Sunshine trope. Happy Bucky (is that a warning?) - he's a photographer in this AU. Mention of insecurities, anxiety, intrusive thoughts, and body image (she's a bit of a mess, okay?). Mention of weed. Internal dialogue. Use of the word fat (as a descriptor).

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

Bucky never had any intention of blurting out his feelings like this. Even as all the fragments of his plans went to the wayside, the last thing he wanted to do was spring this on her. As easy as it’d be to blame it on the weed, it doesn’t matter either way. The truth is out there now and the only thing he can do is keep moving forward, his soft smile never wavering.

A range of emotions play across Sunshine’s face. The initial look of surprise changing to one that gives him immediate hope for their future, their eyes locked in an understanding, a silent conversation threatening to bloom. And then it’s gone in an instant, replaced by hurt and betrayal, the emotion welling up in her eyes.

“That’s not funny.” 

Her words are like a punch to his gut and before Bucky can process what’s happening, Sunshine’s climbing off the couch, putting distance between them. She doesn’t believe him. 

“Sunshine.” Bucky remains on the couch, his feet flat on the floor, toes digging into the carpet as he keeps a tight grip on his knees, forcing himself to remain calm. As much as it pains him, he can see this for what it is. A way for her to protect herself. “You know me. You know who I am. This isn’t a joke.”

Silence consumes them, the soft dripping of rain and the slight hum of the battery-powered fan the only sound piercing his ears. He feels frozen in place, the dim glow of the candles providing enough light for Bucky to take in her tense shoulders, her head cast up to the ceiling.

It’s not until she lets out a heavy sigh that she finally turns around, the sadness on her face doing nothing to ease the ache inside of him to fix this. Unshed tears breaking his heart and it takes everything in Bucky not to stand up and go to her while he waits for her to say something. Anything.

After Sunshine visibly swallows, her response comes, stuttering as she tries to explain this away. “I wasn’t… I didn’t tell you all that to… I don’t want your pity.” 

With a furrowed brow and a slow steadying breath, Bucky shakes his head at her, taking a second to quiet the urge to become defensive. In a gentle voice, he tells her, “That’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it?” Her question is immediate, desperate to understand.

This is going all wrong, but Bucky’s unable to stop himself from giving her an expectant look as he exhales, “Sunshine.” She knows what this is. If she’s too scared to meet him halfway though, the only thing he can do is spell it out. “This is me telling you that I have feelings for you. That I want to date you.”

She cuts in before he can keep going, interrupting him with a shake of her head, “Please don’t do that. You don’t need to… to convince me that I’m dateable. I don’t-.”

He can’t stand it anymore. 

The weed no longer enough to keep the frustration from building, he finally rises to his feet, the coffee table separating them as he holds his hands up in surrender, whispering, “Stop.” He doesn’t know if she’s being obstinately obtuse, but he can’t keep going around in circles. “That’s not why I’m telling you. I’m telling you because I want to be with you. I’m telling you because I think you might feel the same way.”

Sunshine’s a deer caught in headlights, staring wide-eyed, open-mouthed, her rapid breaths giving him concern. Either she still doesn’t believe him, or he misread this.

“If I got the signals wrong, please tell me,” he urges, rooted in his spot, his ankles digging into the edge of the couch to steady himself. “I promise I won’t be upset, and I’ll never do anything to make you uncomfortable. I’ll even help you find a new roommate if that’s what you need. I just…” He lets out a soft sigh, emotion threatening to crack his resolve at the thought of causing her any more pain, “I didn’t want you to keep thinking there wasn’t anything between us.”

She stands there for the longest time, her eyes wandering around the room, occasionally settling on him before moving away, unable to hold his gaze. He has no idea what she’s thinking, and he’s at a loss as to what to do, other than stand there, his arms at his sides, refusing to look away, not giving her a chance to doubt what he’s telling her.

The soft clearing of her throat makes his breath catch, trying not to get his hopes up as their eyes connect again. He’ll accept whatever she says, even if it breaks his heart. 

She starts and pauses several times, long enough for Bucky to know what’s about to come, giving him time to steel himself. “I… It’s… We…” Emotion threatens to overwhelm her again and he watches as she fights through it, forcing the words out, “We’re friends, Bucky.”

“Okay.” He tells her, quickly nodding his head, taking the opportunity to return to his seat on the couch, his legs threatening to give out on him. This isn’t at all what he expected tonight, but he intends to keep his promise. “We’re friends, Sunshine. That’s more than enough for me.”

With a soft utterance of, “I need a minute” she’s gone, closing herself off in her bedroom, leaving Bucky to start figuring out how the hell he’s going to make this right.

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

This isn’t what she wanted.

No matter how much Bucky has consumed her thoughts, and her fantasies, and her dreams, she didn’t confess her trauma and her secrets in hopes that he would suddenly see her in a different light. Sharing her past had only meant to bring them closer together, for her to allow him in, to strengthen their friendship.

There were also selfish reasons - to satiate that urge to lay out her past and have him comfort her. To tell her it wasn’t her fault. To reassure her that she made the right decision cutting off her family. 

Bucky’s always been good at that - saying the right thing, especially in a time of need. That’s probably what this is. Tonight, with the storm, and the blackout, and the lit candles - not to mention getting high together - he got confused, wrapped up in the moment, wanting to make her feel better.

That’s all it is.

But what if it’s not?

Everything Bucky said replays in her mind, the conviction in his voice, the urgency, the need for her to understand. Instead of giving her the answers she’s seeking, the doubt grows, convincing her that even if he’s not confused, it’s probably still a spur-of-the-moment thing. Something recent that caused this.

If not tonight, then maybe last night, letting him take her picture? Or, probably last week when she joined him and his friends at the bar. She acted like a completely different person, most likely giving him the wrong impression. Making him believe that she’s someone she’s not. Someone carefree, confident, easygoing. 

That must be what happened. Which means Bucky’s not attracted to her. He’s attracted to a version of her that doesn’t even really exist.

Pacing her room, her spinning thoughts make her dizzy, one jumping to the next, making it impossible to figure out what to do next. The questions building right along with her anxiety. The smartest thing to do would be to walk back out there and ask them, find the clarity she needs, but it feels impossible.

She wouldn’t even know where to start. 

And would it even matter? 

If Bucky doesn’t really have feelings for her, she’d rather not know. And if his feelings are real, nothing good could ever come of it. 

They’re too different. 

They’re barely compatible as roommates and friends, let alone as anything more.

That’s not true.

She ‘blames’ the lingering effects of the weed for the interjecting of positivity - or maybe it’s Bucky slowly rubbing off on her - and flops back on her bed, the flashlight of her phone shining on the ceiling. She’s too high to immediately dismiss how well they mesh, how much fun they have together.

That still doesn’t mean this can lead anywhere. She carries too much baggage, and he deserves a life that he’s constantly striving for. One filled with never-ending enthusiasm and spontaneous adventures and extended family. She can’t offer him any of that.

You can at least offer him the truth.

“Fuck,” she curses, rubbing her hands over her face, distracting herself from the slight tremble rolling through her body. As much as she wants to throw caution to the wind and fall into this with an open mind, she’s too scared. She’s been through too much to think this can lead anywhere except the end of their friendship. 

He’ll eventually come to his senses and she’ll be too heartbroken to get over him.

This is for the best.

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

Bucky hasn’t moved from his spot on the couch, his eyes locked on the flickering candles, lost in a sea of thoughts. Every step that led them here and how to salvage their friendship. There are too many variables, too many uncertainties regarding how she’s going to want to handle this. All he knows is that whatever Sunshine wants, he’ll give her.

He waits patiently, several minutes passing that feel like hours, unable to take a deep breath until she finally opens her door, cautiously joining him back in the living room. She looks so nervous, so worried about what’s going to happen that he has to be the one to break the silence, trying to make this easier for her.

“Are you okay?”

The slight nod of her head turns into a shrug, her shoulders lifting at the same time her eyes do, offering him a soft smile. “Sorry for… running away like that.”

Bucky’s quick to shake his head, sitting up a bit straighter in his seat, telling her, “You don’t need to apologize, I know this is a lot.” Watching her try to dismiss the magnitude of his confession convinces him to see this through. “I’m sorry for putting you on the spot. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Sunshine grows quiet again, a moment passing before she takes a few tentative steps into the living room, pausing for a moment before returning to her seat at the opposite end of the couch. He can only take it as a good sign, especially when she assures him, “You don’t need to apologize either… you were just being honest.”

The gnawing panic over fixing this begins to dissipate and he wastes no time in telling her, “If you want to talk about it, I promise to keep being honest.”

The soft exhale of her laugh eases the tension in his own body and he gives her an encouraging grin, grateful to see her starting to relax, even a bit. She still keeps one foot on the floor, her body slightly turned towards him, but it’s more progress than he expected.

“Since you’re being honest, I should be too,” she whispers, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, fingernails picking at a loose thread. 

Mentally preparing himself for whatever she’s about to admit, he shifts in his seat, pulling his feet back under him, his focus steady on her.

“You didn’t get the signals wrong.” Her admission comes slowly, but there’s no hesitation, Sunshine taking her time to convey her thoughts, sending Bucky on a rollercoaster of emotions. “I just don’t think this is a good idea.”

Refusing to live a life of regrets, he asks, “But not because you don’t have feelings for me?”

A hint of amusement crosses her face, a brief pointed look thrown his way before she’s avoiding his gaze again, her attention pulled back to her shirt. “It’d ruin our friendship.”

“Nothing could ruin our friendship,” he counters, without hesitation. If she’s not going to deny their connection, neither will he. 

With another twitch at the corner of her mouth, she tilts her head and narrows her eyes, still refusing to give him more than a brief second of her stare. Bucky doesn’t mind, as long as she keeps trying to talk to him.

With her gaze diverted, he studies her face, his eyes drawn to her bottom lip pulled between her teeth, allowing himself to envision reaching out to soothe it with his thumb. 

Not letting his mind drift, he refocuses, seconds before she finds the courage to confess, “This could. Especially if it’s… Tonight’s been… so much has happened with the blackout, and the trauma bonding, and I don’t… we don’t know what’s going to happen in the light of day.”

Bucky’s own brow furrows in response, memories of their earlier conversation playing in his head, trying to discern what he said that caused her to think this is a hasty decision, an unexpected realization that he hasn’t agonized over every waking moment. 

“The same thing that’s been happening,” he says, offering her a slight shrug and a comforting smile. “I know this might be new for you, but it’s been my reality for a while now.”

“How long?” Her question comes out in a long exhale, the slight furrow of her brow signaling more doubt and accusations.

At least it’s a question he was already prepared to answer, the truth spilling out of him without a second thought. “A couple of months.”

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

A couple of months.

After learning it wasn’t just because of tonight, she was expecting a couple of days, maybe a week. But a couple of months?!

Her head spins again, calculating everything from when her own feelings started to the moment Bucky started calling her Sunshine and fixing her morning coffee. She’s looking for inconsistencies, reasons to stick to her belief that nothing good can come from this.

She can’t find any though - realizing that his feelings started before hers did, but only after he was already making her lunch and leaving her coffee - and all she can wonder is, “Why?” He already thinks this is new for her, the excuse that it’s because she has feelings for him no longer plausible, and she’s trying to figure out what caused the change.

Bucky’s soft laugh cuts through her racing thoughts and he leans in, shifting a bit closer, almost an entire couch cushion still between them. She wants to break the distance and add more all at the same time, his bright smile the only reason she doesn’t move a muscle.

“How could I not, Sunshine?” he shakes his head, as if he never stood a chance. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met and I-.” He pauses to let out another laugh, the smile he’s giving her making her stomach flutter and her heart skip a beat. “My favorite part of the day is when I’m with you.”

Words fail her, as they seem to at the most inopportune time, but Bucky’s patient, giving her a moment to process and respond whenever she’s ready. It allows her time to swallow her fear and ask another question that threatens to overwhelm her, “What if that’s all it is? I mean, we’re friends and-.”

“I don’t think about my friends the way I think about you.” 

He rarely ever interrupts her, but when he does, it’s usually for her benefit, to quiet her worries. This is no exception and she suddenly can’t breathe again, her chest growing tight as air gets trapped in her lungs.

This is actually happening.

Despite the longing look Bucky’s giving her, she still can’t accept it. The trust she has in him doesn’t outweigh the walls she’s built to protect herself. Years of experience teaching her that if something feels too good to be true, it probably is.

Twisting his assurance that nothing could ruin their friendship, she grasps at one last straw, telling him, “I don’t want to be an experiment.” Bucky’s face morphs into one of confusion and shock, her accusation like a slap to his face, but she can’t stop herself from doubling down, shrugging as she asks, “Have you ever even dated anyone fat before?”

He blinks, letting out a sharp exhale, the twitch in his jaw the first sign that she’s crossed a line. Steve’s words of ‘you’ve never given him a reason to be mad’ echoing in her head, but it’s too late to take this back. Even if it was the wrong way to ask, it’s still a fear she needed to express.

She swallows the lump forming in her throat as he gives her a slow shake of his head and says, “Please don’t do that. I know the world can be unkind, but I’ve never treated you with anything but respect.”

There’s no anger in his tone, only pain and frustration, Bucky doing his best to set a boundary with her. She respects him too much to push back, taking a moment to force air into her lungs, breathing several slow deep breaths. And he lets her, even though she accused him of being like all the other assholes who have hurt her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her throat tight with emotion, resisting the urge to remind him she’s not good at this. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Bucky accepts her apology with a grateful smile, telling her, “I don’t mind if you have doubts or insecurities, okay? I never have.” He lifts a hand to his chest, promising her, “ And I’m happy to help quiet them, but I’d rather you ask me, instead of accusing me, that’s all.”

She swiftly nods her head, rendered speechless again, her voice stuck in her throat. He’s managed to avoid all the landmines, pass all her tests, but the doubt lingers. The fear doesn’t ease. It won’t until she has concrete proof. Something she can cling to.

What if he can’t give you any?

The silent questioning gives her pause and she takes the opportunity to announce that she needs another drink, her bottle nearly empty, excusing herself to the kitchen. She wastes time at the fridge, the single candle on the counter the only light as she takes several gulps of water to soothe her dry throat.

Her current thoughts mirror the ones from earlier, her anxiety and insecurities doing their best to convince her of things she knows aren’t true. This isn’t a joke, or a thoughtless confession, or a fetishized curiosity. 

Interrupting the growing silence, Bucky joins her, leaving several feet between them, “What do you need, Sunshine?”

The tender way he asks is almost enough to make her cry, his soft murmur providing her comfort. All he’s ever cared about is her happiness, going out of his way to make her day, even before he ever considered dating her. After all the pain and heartache she’s endured, doesn’t she deserve a chance at happiness?

This is a bad idea.

Her heart’s racing, and she’s not sure if or when she’ll be able to breathe deeply again, but it’s not enough to scare her away anymore. She’ll live the rest of her life with yet another regret if she doesn’t take this chance, deciding to trust his promise that nothing can ruin their friendship.

“What kind of thoughts do you have about me?”

She keeps her back to him, and the words are barely audible, but he doesn’t make her repeat them, his soft footsteps echoing as he moves a bit closer.

“I think about spending more time with you,” he explains softly. “Taking you out on dates, getting to flirt with you, make you blush.”

Her skin grows warmer, a light sweat collecting under her shirt, threatening to overwhelm her. And yet, there’s no wish for the electricity to come back, wanting nothing to interrupt them. Being in the dark, the quiet of night, it makes this just a bit easier. 

“Is that all you think about?” 

Another soft step, and then a whisper of, “No, but that’s where I want to start.”

The water bottle grows heavy in her hands, flashes of her own fantasies and dreams invading her thoughts, doing nothing to help cool her down. No hesitation takes hold of her, refusing to leave it here, refusing to take the out he’s giving her. She can’t.

She needs more. Proof that he wants all of her. That he desires her.

Forcing herself to relax, she asks, “Where do you want it to go?”

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

Bucky should listen to his instinct and tell Sunshine everything - all his hopes and fantasies, even confess that night he listened for her moans of pleasure - but he doesn’t. He treads carefully, barely standing a foot behind her, quick to assure her, “Wherever you want it to.”

The moment he says it, a wave of regret washes over him, watching the tension suddenly return to her shoulders and her hands drop, her bottle swinging at her side. He’s so focused on trying to take this slow, to not push her into anything, that he’s accomplishing the opposite of what he was hoping for. 

He’s reinforcing her insecurities instead of easing them. 

Throwing caution to the wind, he follows his intuition, choosing 100% honesty.

“I think about kissing you.” 

Her shuddering breath has a surge of arousal rushing through him and he lets his eyes drift close, taking a much needed breath to slow his racing heart. All the things he’s imagined doing with her filling his vision, his desire for her reaching new heights.

Trusting Sunshine to tell him to stop if he oversteps, Bucky keeps talking, his voice rough with need.

“I think about touching you.”

The soft, breathless sigh of his name has him reaching out, his fingers dangerously close to her wrist, her inviting warmth sending a bolt of electricity throughout his entire body.

At the last moment he pulls back, refusing to give in to the temptation. He can’t, not without her permission, and he’s not sure she’s ready to give it. She might never be. Not if he can’t show her how much he wants her.

“You’re not just an itch I wanna scratch, Sunshine. You’re not an experiment, and you’re sure as hell not just an occasional fantasy.” Her fingers tighten around her bottle and his eyes follow the bend of her elbow, the slight tension in her arms as she pulls her hands back in front of her.

These aren’t the signs of her wanting to pull away. She’s processing what he’s telling her. Questioning the possibilities. Focusing her energy on not jumping to the worst conclusion.

“You fantasize about me?” Hope. Longing. Desire. Need. It’s all there, evidence of her feelings for him.

Fuck. 

He almost says it outloud, but he purses his lips, breathing heavily through his nose, ignoring the sudden twitching of his cock. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he focuses on a response. On words. Assurance. That’s all he should be offering right now.

“All the time. For months.” He can’t let any of her worries resurface, taking into account every argument she’s had tonight. “You’re in every fantasy. Every dream. You’re all I want.” 

Her reaction feels like slow-motion, her trembling hand reaching out to try to place her water bottle on the counter. Without overthinking, Bucky does it for her, gently taking the bottle from her to set it down, his own hand steady despite the crackle of energy flowing through him.

He won’t let the doubt build, reading all the cues she’s throwing out to cement his hope for their future, watching as she turns around to face him. 

“I want all of you. Your mind and your body. Every single fucking inch of you, if you’ll let me.”

Bucky can’t take it anymore. Her surprise and relief palpable as she meets his gaze, forcing him to make the first move, to finally close the distance between them. Still seeking her permission, he reaches out, hovering near her hand, the slight twitch of her fingers encouraging him to softly ask, “Yes or no, Sunshine?”

If she wants this, he has to hear the words. He can’t move forward without them.

There’s no rush as he watches her swallow and open her mouth, the process repeating on a loop until she’s able to fight through it. To give herself permission to move forward with him, even though there’s still so much fear and uncertainty.

“Yes.”

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

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[watchyoubloom]

summer nights | drw x f!reader

Summary: Danny’s wearing those short shorts again. (That’s it. That’s the plot.)

(minors dni. 18+. basically just smut and fluff and lots of dialogue idk. all things considered, it’s *tame* but it is still just pwp so….do with that what you will.)

A/N: here i am, over a year later, with another danny fic 🫣 he’s just!!!! stuck in my brain, okay?!

________________________________________________________

It's late by the time the party winds down, leaving just you and Danny by the fire pit. The second Sam cajoles Rosie from her spot where she'd been sleeping on your deck, leashing her for the walk to his car, you'd had your mind made up.

"Want me to lock the door behind me?" Sam asks before he heads inside, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head, then to Danny's. “Think everyone else is gone."

"That would be great, Sammy, thank you," you reply, and you know that it's obvious your mind is elsewhere but you can't seem to bring yourself to care.

Danny had worn those teal shorts tonight, the ones that made his legs look miles long and drew out the color of his tan, and you hadn't been able to keep your eyes— or your hands— off of him.

Usually, Danny was the one who had an arm around your shoulders, or a grip on your thigh, or a hand at your waist. Not that you didn't reciprocate. You were both handsy people- he was just usually already touching you whenever you reached for him. Tonight, though, you couldn't get enough. When he'd leaned forward to pull your chair closer to his so he could stretch an arm out and rest his hand at the back of your neck, thumb swiping into the hairs at your nape, you'd leaned in closer to him, putting your hand on his thigh and scratching your fingernails lightly along his soft skin, through the smattering of darker hair. It was a bit of a stretch with the arms of your big wooden deck chairs between you, but nothing was gonna keep you from touching your boyfriend at the moment.

"Okay?" Danny had asked you quietly, taking a swig out of his beer. He stayed facing the fire, but his eyes trailed to you, his hand squeezing your neck lightly. You hadn't been paying attention to the conversation surrounding you, and he had noticed your distraction.

"Mhmm," you acquiesced, nodding. You were a little tipsy and a whole lot wanting, and decided you didn't want to play coy. You turned your gaze from the fire and let your eyes dance over his face, taking in his features, unable to help the way your eyes flitted to his lips. When you saw his tongue dart out to lick across his bottom lip, you spoke. "Wanna go inside?"

Danny barely suppressed his bark of laughter, turning to look at you incredulously. *What was it you said to me earlier? When you came out in this little sundress and I tried to get you to fool around with me before everyone got here-"

“…I don't remember."

Danny's hand had slipped from your neck to your lower back, his fingers sweeping beneath your loose, low back of your sundress and dancing along your spine. He leaned in a little closer to speak, and he had already been speaking quietly, but now he was whispering. “I believe it was something along the lines of ‘we’re the hosts, Daniel, we can't look frazzled and fucked out’-“

"Okay, fine, I remember," you cut him off, pushing his face away from your ear with your free hand. *I was hoping you didn't.”

"What changed your tune?" Danny had asked, and his hand was at your waist now, still beneath the fabric of your dress.

"You came back downstairs in these fucking shorts," you had said, and then made to stand up. You still weren't close enough, and you were ready to do something about it.

He had halted you in place with the hand on your side, though, stilling you, and you frowned, looking at him again.

"Where are you going, baby?" He had asked, voice still low enough that you were the only one who could hear him. Everyone else was listening to a story Josh was telling, Jake interjecting when he exaggerated too much and Sam laughing as Jake grew more and more annoyed.

"M'coming to sit with you," you said, and tried to stand up again.

"Mm-mm. You stay there," Danny murmured, stilling you again. He had pulled you a little further into him, then, and you went willingly. You rested your head on the outside of his shoulder, your hand still squeezing his thigh. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to your temple, and let his lips linger as he spoke again. "If I get you in my lap now, these guys are gonna get a show they didn't ask for."

A heady feeling washed over you, and you shifted slightly, kissing his shoulder, exposed because of the tank he's wearing, and you rested your chin atop it so you could look at your boyfriend again. You wanted to see his face for this next part. "I dunno, baby, I think Sammy might like a show. Or maybe he'd like to-“

Danny's jaw had clenched, his hand on your waist gripping a little harder, and you’d trailed off as you watched his nostrils flare with the sharp inhale he took in at your words, at the way the muscle in his jaw jumped. "Careful, honey," he warned, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when he looked at you. "You sure you're ready for that? I'll go ask him right now."

It was something you'd talked about before, but you'd been too nervous to do anything about it yet. You bit your lip as you let your gaze wander to a few feet away, where Sammy was sitting in his own chair, engaged in whatever story was being told now. His hair was in a messy bun atop his head, a few strands that had fallen loose framing his face. He must have felt your eyes on him because he met your gaze, smiling and sending you a wink before returning back to the conversation.

"He'd say yes." Danny said, following your sight line. "He'd say yes to us, baby, do you wanna go ask him?"

Your eyes shot back to your boyfriend to find him already watching you again, and how had this turned around on you so quickly? You'd been trying to rile him up, and now here you were, heat pooling in between your legs and flushing across your cheeks.

You shook your head minutely, barely a movement, but Danny caught it and nodded, knew the unspoken not yet that hadn't quite made it to your lips. He leaned in and kissed your forehead, then beside your eye, and grasped the seat of your chair to slide you even closer than he'd gotten you the first time. You could lean against his side a little easier, now, the arm of the chair digging into your own side just enough to provide the distraction you seemed to need.

"Could've just let me in your lap," you muttered. "Didn't have to play dirty like that."

"You started it," Danny retorted. He dropped his voice low again, tilting his head to whisper into your ear. "And I told you- I can't have you in my lap right now. Not unless I'm buried inside you so deep-“

"Daniel," you cut him off, squeezing his leg. Your hand was high up on his thigh, and you tucked your fingertips under the hem of his shorts. "Unless you do actually want to give our guests a show tonight, I need you to either stop talking—now— or take me inside."

And then you sat back up a little, leaning against the back of your own chair. You were getting so turned on you'd probably have let him take you right there, in front of the boys and the rest of your company, if he'd decided that's what he wanted to do, so you needed to put some space between you before you did actually jump his bones. You'd mournfully removed your hand from his leg, as well. He didn't let you go far, though, shifting in his own chair to lean closer to you, taking his arm from around your middle and bringing his hand to grasp your thigh. It was easier for him, taller and longer limbed, and you succumbed to his touch, watching his long fingers as they squeezed your leg.

And that is where you had stayed, so turned on you were practically vibrating with the tension of it, until your guests had started to leave.

Sam had kissed you both goodnight, giving Danny a knowing smirk over the top of your head, and left through the house, promising to lock the door behind him. You’d waited until you heard his car start and back out of the drive before you were standing out of your seat.

Danny made to follow suit, but you stopped him with a hand on his chest, pushing him back into his chair and climbing into his lap. "You're the worst," you say, straddling his legs. You sit back a bit and look down in between you, rubbing your hands along the tops of his thighs until your fingertips brushed under the hem of the shorts. His hands are gripping your hips, his fingers flexing. “You come down in these, and you look like that, and you won't let me sit in your lap?"

He spreads his legs a little in response, looking up at you with a hint of a smirk, and you have to kiss him, unable to wait anymore. You're still mostly up on your knees, leaning over him, and you anchor yourself with a hand on his chest and one on the side of his neck, sliding your fingers into his hair and tilting his head back how you want him before closing the distance and capturing his lips with yours.

You take your time kissing him, now that you can do so without having to worry about getting carried away in front of guests. He’s warm under you, sun-kissed and flushed, and his kisses taste of the tequila soda you’d been sharing as everyone was heading out, of the lime he’d stolen from you and sucked the juice from with a wink.

You waste no time at all in getting his shorts unbuttoned and slipping your hand down the front of them, cupping Danny’s length over his boxers and smiling against his mouth when he pushes up into your grasp. He helps you, cants his hips up slightly so you can get the band of his boxers down just enough to be able to fully take him in hand.

"You are not getting naked out here," Danny says, succinct as he can be with you pressed all along his front, your arm wedged in between you and your hand still mostly down the front of his shorts. "Absolutely not."

"What happened to putting on a show?" You ask, canting your hips back just enough to be able to shift your angle, get a better grip around him. You nip at his jaw, kiss along the line of it until your lips are against his ear. *Wanna ride you. With the shorts on."

"The shorts really do it for you, huh?" Danny manages through a shaky breath when you twist your hand just right.

"No, baby, it's your fucking legs in them," you reply, and you grind down against him to prove your point. "Look so good.”

"Still not getting you naked out here." Danny responds, reaching up to cup your face in his hands and draw you to him, slanting his lips against yours. He distracts you with the kiss, licking into your mouth, threading the fingers of one hand back into your hair and holding your against him.

"Don't have to," you say against his mouth, in between kisses. "Lift up my dress."

Danny pulls back enough to look at you, raising an eyebrow in question. You withdraw your hand from the front of his shorts, waiting for him to play along.He narrows his eyes at you, and you know why- this particular dress looks so similar to one of the athleisure ones you have and love to wear, the kind with the shorts beneath. You know without a doubt that he thinks you're wearing that one.

After another second, though, he complies. He slides one hand under the hem of your dress and up the outside of your leg at the same time that he lifts the fabric draped across your legs and his lap, moving it just enough to see that you are not, in fact, wearing a dress with shorts under it. In fact, you're not wearing anything beneath.

"Jesus, baby, are you trying to kill me?" Danny asks, and the hand that had been traveling up the outside of your leg grips your hip. "You've been mine for the taking all night long and you're just telling me this now?"

He hasn't taken his eyes off of what's under your dress- or, rather, what isn't under your dress- until now, and his eyes flick up to meet yours, just long enough to see you shake your head before his eyes dip back below the hem of your dress.

“Took 'em off when I went inside a couple hours ago," you say.

He's captivated, is keeping the hem of your dress lifted just enough to be able to see beneath it as he trails his hand from your hip to in between your legs, turning his hand so it's palm up and rubbing two long fingers through your folds. You keen and rock into his hand, seeking his touch any way you can get it.

"Oh, fuck," Danny says as he feels how wet you are. He pulls his hand back, though, and you almost whine at the loss of his touch where you've wanted him most all night, but then he's gripping both of your hips and pulling you as close to him as possible. His hips rut up against you, the action almost involuntary, and the quick motion lists you forward. You catch yourself with your hands on his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his tank top when he moves his hand back between your legs. "Baby, need to feel you-“

"Yes," you manage through a gasp, eyes fluttering shut as he slides a finger inside you. You bite down on your lower lip, tugging it between your teeth, and give in to the feeling of his finger moving so perfectly inside you.

"Want another?" He asks after a few moments pass, and you open your eyes to look at him- except he's looking down in between you, raising the hem of your dress with his free hand again. "Lemme see you."

You nod and manage a mhmm with your lip still caught between your teeth, and he looks up at you then. "Hey, no," he says, and uses the hand not currently inside you to reach up and grasp your face gently, bringing his thumb to your mouth and tugging your bottom lip free. "Wanna hear you."

"Can't get me naked outside but can let the neighbors hear me?" You ask, managing a modicum of sass until he pushes in a second finger alongside his first. "Oh, fuck-"

He's picked up the hem of your dress again to watch as he fingers you- he's always so obsessed with seeing you take him, be it fingers or his cock- and he's captivated for a moment, keeping a slow pace as he fucks you on his hand. "That's my girl,” he murmurs, and you don't know if it's in response to hearing you or how you're taking him prepping you. His eyes dart up to watch your face as his thumb finds your clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure and circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. "Feel good?"

"So good, Danny, honey," you say through a gasp, nodding your head. You reach up and smooth his hair back off of his face, fingers trembling a bit with how good he's making you feel. Your eyes flit to his lips. *Wanna kiss, can I have-"

Danny grins up at you and surges forward to capture your lips with his, wasting no time claiming your mouth with his tongue. His free hand finds the back of your neck, holding you to him, and he deepens the kiss at the same time he crooks his fingers inside you, chuckling into it when you tighten around him, breath catching. You're close to that precipice already, Danny's expert fingers bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Wait, wait, don't wanna come-" you say between kisses. Danny stills his hand immediately, but keeps kissing you, huffing out a laugh against your lips when your hips continue to rock against him. You slow your movements, bringing yourself back from the edge, and pull back from his kiss, pressing your forehead against his. "Need to- need you-“

*You have me." Danny murmurs, kissing your lips again. "Let me make you come, sweet girl, want to-"

"No, not yet," you say again, too caught up in his kiss to further explain yourself. Instead, you reach down between the two of you, palming across the front of his shorts. You had a goal in mind, tonight, and you weren't ready to abandon it yet. “Said I wanted to ride you, remember? It's all l've been thinking about, wanna come with you inside-"

Danny groans at your words, nodding and withdrawing his fingers, helping you make quick work of getting his shorts down enough that you can pull him free. His takes a shuddering breath when you wrap your hand around him, giving him a few strokes before pushing up on your knees and lining him up at your entrance.

"You really are trying to kill me tonight, huh?" He asks, looking up at you, and he grins when you wink at him. It's short lived, though, and he drops his head back against his chair with a groan when you start to sink down into him without any warning.

"Fuck, sweetheart," Danny grits out, jaw clenched. His hands are spanning your hips now, fingers digging in, and you can tell he's trying not to move his own hips as you work to accommodate his size. His throat is exposed with how he's leaning his head back, and you can't help but lean in and nip at his Adam's apple, soothing the spot with a kiss right after. You sink a little further down, thighs burning with the strain of going slow, and you feel Danny twitch against you, inside you- “How do you always feel so fucking good, Christ, it's like you were made for me-“

His words and the feeling of him inside you finally brings you back to the edge of your orgasm almost immediately. Danny must be able to feel it, knows your body and your tells almost better than you do, because he brings a hand back between you and starts rubbing over your clit just how you like. "Give me one, sweetheart." he murmurs. "M'inside you, now, let me have it-“

It really doesn't take more than that to get you there- you come with a cry of Danny's name, one hand on his shoulder and the other on top of his where it's gripping your hip.

"Oh, my God, baby, you feel so good, you're perfect," Danny talks you through it, rambling as you ride the wave of your first orgasm, even though he's gripping your hip so tight with his effort to stay still that you'll probably have bruises. He’ll see them in the morning and frown, will apologize and kiss them gently, and you’ll card your fingers through his curls and tell him- not for the first time- that you don’t mind it when he marks you up.

The pleasure of your orgasm allows you to finish taking him, sinking down until he's buried all the way inside you. He keeps his thumb on your clit, rubbing at it languidly, enough to draw out the pleasure without it being too much and watching your face for a cue that it's okay for him to move.

After a few more moments of you holding still, Danny chokes out a hoarse, "Honey, can I- need to-" and you nod, leaning in and pressing your face into the crook of his neck, kissing and nipping at the skin there as he takes control. He’s gripping your hip with one hand and has the other arm banded around your back, and he holds you to him as he plants his feet and starts to move his hips. It’s slow at first, still giving you time to recover, but the way he’s filling you, hitting that perfect spot inside with each languid thrust has your legs feeling like jello. After a few moments, you sit back up, attention back on your goal. You’re up on your knees enough that you can start meeting him thrust for thrust, lowering yourself when he cants his hips up and loving the way he groans when you start moving.

You meet Danny’s eyes, one hand on his shoulder, big and warm under your palm, and the other on the side of his neck. You slow your movement and he follows suit, eyes fluttering shut when you seat yourself fully on him and roll your hips, squeezing around him. His face is flushed, a delicious pink from the day’s sun and your night time activities spreading from his cheeks down his neck. The freckles dusting his nose are standing out more with each day of summer that passes. He’s moved down in the chair a bit, leaning his head against the back edge, and your eyes roam from his face to what part of his chest you can get a glimpse of, then to his waist and his hips. Where you’re joined is hidden by the hem of your dress again, and you look up to see Danny watching you.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” you say, unable to help yourself, and it earns you a grin.

”Look who’s talking. Come here,” Danny replies, and reaches up to cup the side of your neck and draw you to him for another kiss. It changes the angle, slightly, and you gasp into his mouth, clenching around him when he nips at your bottom lip.

That’s what does it for him, his hands coming down to settle at your hips and hold you tight and he starts moving faster, angling each thrust perfectly and stealing your breath.

“Gonna come again?” He asks you, his thumb back on your clit, and you nod, knowing he can feel that you’re getting close. “Cause I- fuck, I think I’ve hit my limit on how chill I can remain about this situation we’re in-“

You can’t help but laugh at your boyfriend, hot as sin and goofy as hell and everything you could ever want. “Coulda just fucked me earlier,” you remind him, unable to resist teasing him some more. “Maybe Sammy would’ve heard us and come to see if we needed a- a hand-“

You stutter on the last couple of words and trail off as Danny starts fucking you harder, turning his head to press a kiss to your wrist where it rests beside his head, your hand holding on to the back of the chair. He nips at the skin of the inside of your wrist before snaking his arm around your back and grasping your shoulder with his hand.

You can tell he’s close, and you are too, so you keep talking. “Gonna come, baby, I’m so close again already, want you to come with me-“

“Me too,“ he says, tugging you to him and biting at your neck, your shoulder, your collarbone. “Where-?”

“Inside, want it inside,” you answer immediately. You’re on protection, but he asks every time, and you love him even more for it. “Wanna feel you-“

Danny’s hips stutter and he groans as he comes, fucking up into you with abandon, and it draws you over the edge as well. You tuck your face into the crook of his neck and come with a cry of his name, shuddering around him as your orgasm drags you under.

He fucks you through it, slowing the movement of his fingers and his hips so he doesn’t overstimulate you. It’s only once you’ve both regained your breath that he speaks.

“Shit,” he says, and he kisses the corner of your mouth when you sit up. He drapes your dress back over you, making sure you’re covered. “Should have brought you inside first, it’s gonna be a mess when I pull out-“

You cut him off with a kiss of your own. “It’s fine, Dan,” you say, unable to help pressing another kiss to his lips. “Besides, you know I like it when I can feel you dripping down-“

“Oh my God,” Danny groans and covers your mouth with his hand, and you can’t help but giggle when you feel his dick twitch from where he’s still buried inside you. “You are trying to kill me.”

[yoichichi]

hey what’s up what’s going on. sorry about this. so anyway big brother reo who wants to share you with his treasure and best friend nagi sooooo badly. you haven’t given into reo yet more than loaded glances you take when you think he isn’t watching you (he’s always watching you) and awkward moments when he’s practically cornering you; you’re too busy for that, clearly, always with some new boy that obviously isn’t good for you (no one will ever be good enough for you to reo). still, you get along with nagi really well, treat him sweet and dote on him and fall asleep on his shoulder on the occasion you both knock out on the couch. it’s cute! makes reo’s heart sing and dick twitch! he knows nagi would probably agree that they should share you but for all of two seconds he’s hesitant about it — what if nagi says no? or gets upset? or wants you all for himself instead? reo doesn't know what hed do. but something changes that — your new boyfriend, he fucking sucks. the worst one out of them all, not kind enough to you, not spoiling you in the way you deserve. it’s when you leave the house in the middle of a hangout with reo and nagi because of a fight with him that reo hears it — nagi, voice soft as ever, still focused on the game on his phone, “they could do better than that”, and it’s like reo’s entire world gets a little bit brighter. and when you come home, tears lining puffy eyes, they’re there to comfort you and show you just how much better you could be treated 💜 your boyfriend doesn’t have to know anyway.

Bambi……………. Putting this in my inbox is nothing but sick and twisted of you ..

Subject of my Adoration

Stepbro!Reo x gn!reader x Nagi

MINORS DNI

cw: incest, slight "somno" (reader thinks reo & nagi are sleeping, they are not), short pwp, reader has no pronouns/no body descriptions but has painted nails mentioned only once briefly, reo & nagi makeout, reader is a bit of a spoiled brat and a little annoying about it but it’s all Reo’s fault and he loves it, dark content - don’t read if you don’t like !

“He’s just so… so…” a sob gets caught in your throat as tears boil over and spill down your cheeks before you can finish your thought.

“I know angel, I know. It’s okay, we’re right here.” Reo coos softly onto the top of your head and leaves a kiss, Nagi humming in agreement against your back.

Your boyfriend sucks, same with all the other ones if you were to ask Reo, but this one really sucks you swear. Who texts their date at 2 in the afternoon, “be there at seven, wear something nice ❤️”, just to take them to the movies?

Losers, that’s who.

You wore your absolute best (you know you did because Reo told you all about how lovely you looked for your big night out up until the moment you left), had him rub the sweetest smelling body cream you owned onto your skin for what felt like hours just so you could smell your best through the entire night, and you even made Nagi help pick a new color for your nails (and help paint them too of course).

All for some cheesy action flick that was more blood, guts, and guns than dialogue. There was barely even any kissing.

What a loser. How dare he waste your time like that?

Naturally, it was all tears and whines the minute you walked through the door, Reo’s warm arms wrapping you into an embrace not seconds after.

Now you’re here, cuddled up nice and close between the pair on the couch, crying into Reo’s chest all about how stupid and awful and lame this guy is.

“Poor thing, huh Nagi?” His friend hums again, continuing to rub your sides softly and leave the occasional peck onto your clothed back.

You squeeze yourself closer into them and inhale deeply, letting their combined scent wash over you and comfort you the way they’d want it to, the way they hope it does.

Sleep begins to make your eyes struggle to stay open, and your body feels so warm and heavy, but Nagi’s continuously wandering hands and Reo’s random, soft kisses and gentle shushing is making your stomach stir. You move to adjust your position on the couch but find yourself stuck and unable to properly move between them. Not on your own at least.

“Something wrong, angel? Are you not comfortable?” Reo speaks softer to you like he’s making an effort to not wake Nagi, but you know he’s not sleeping with the way his grip gets slightly tighter on you.

You let your eyes wander across his face before you shake your head and bury yourself back into him, into them.

Why can’t your boyfriend be like him? Reo knows you so well; knows how you should be, rather how you need to be taken care of. He’s so tender and caring with you, taking the time to make sure you’re only feeling your best. And it’d help if they were as handsome as him, too.

The familiar twist in your stomach comes back, pulling and churning until you’re squirming in your spot again.

“C’mere.” Nagi sighs quietly, moving and readjusting with Reo’s assistance until his leg is slotted between yours and Nagi’s, arms wrapped around you both as Nagi engulfs you from behind. You’re sure Reo isn’t fully on the couch anymore, but before you can suggest moving to a more comfortable place to rest, you feel how warm and thick his thigh feels between yours. That in itself isn’t surprising, but the way you throb against him is.

You feel like you can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t think.

“Better?” Nagi’s breath on the back of your neck nearly makes you gasp, when did he move up so close?

He’s so warm.

You nod, unable to bring yourself to speak, and hope they’re feeling the same lull of sleep you were just a few minutes ago.

Moments pass and the quiet grows until you’re sure they’re resting, the steady rhythm of their deep sighs persuading your body to rest itself.

But the pulse between your legs and heat from Reo’s thigh won’t let you.

You bite down on your bottom lip hard as you try to find a less intrusive way to lay with them both, but it’s only making it worse. The friction and pressure pulls a sigh from your lips.

There’s no way you’ll be able to move without waking them up and asking them to, which isn’t an option. There was no decision or request you could make without getting an onslaught of questions from Reo. You don’t mind of course, you know he only wants to understand the things you need so he can be there for you without you needing to ask next time, but how would you be able to explain this?

You could never get away with lying to your big brother, he’d see right through you. And you don’t want to.

Thick yearning is growing heavy in your stomach.

Their breathing stays steady, and you’re a little shocked your wriggling hasn’t made either of them stir.

You feel sick as a thought passes your mind, but you swallow the thick nausea quickly creeping up your throat and remind yourself that Reo wouldn’t want you uncomfortable. He wouldn’t want you to be hurting like you are now. And Nagi wouldn’t either, Reo wouldn’t be best friends with someone who wouldn’t want the best for you.

Relief comes as you start to rock your hips gingerly, your body instantly hot from the embarrassment and pleasure.

Reo’s shirt bunches up in your fist. You’re gripping onto him harder than you probably should be, but you need him so bad. Need him to hold you and tell you how it’s all okay, how he’s here so there’s no need to fuss, you know your big brother will always be there to take care of you.

Your core starts to burn from the careful way you’ve been moving your hips, and you’re getting tired, but you’re not close enough yet. You need to finish but you’re struggling more than you’d like to get there.

Your level of frustration (sexually and just from the events of today) becomes more apparent as the familiar feeling of tears pricks at your lash line.

God, why did you have to be such a crybaby?

Reo's shirt feels soft against your cheek as you lean in and let your hips relax, abruptly deciding to give up on your earlier efforts. You press further into his chest attempting to soothe yourself (and wipe your face) with the soft and expensive fabric while you sniffle. He's warm. And he smells so good.

This isn't helping.

Before you can fully shut your eyes and get comfortable, gentle and familiar hands previously resting on your waist slide down to now sit on your hips.

"Angel,", Reo's soft voice hums against the top of your head, "is there something you need?"

You feel your heart race at the sound of his voice. When did he wake up? Did he ever fall asleep? Is Nagi still awake, too? What would you say to them, what could you say?

You crane your neck to look up at him with wet eyes, contemplating what to say. His eyes look heavy, but not tired, not exactly. Just... focused, you could guess.

Too many moments of silence pass as you try to think until a growing dread begins to bloom in your stomach.

You could never lie to your big brother. You couldn't even try.

You nod your head haltingly but turn your eyes down to stare at the wet patch from your tears on his shirt.

What else is there to say to him besides yes, you need him.

Without hesitation, the same familiar pair of hands grip your hips tighter, beginning to wiggle you back and forth on the soft meat of his upper thigh.

Reo always knew what you needed without having to ask.

The pit of dread blossoms into a thick yearning, and you let the small smile of relief that comes stay on your face, Reo would want to know you're feeling good. You can never hide that from him, that's your one rule.

Always be honest about your happiness with me, because how else will I learn to take care of you?

"You still awake, Nagi?" A hum between your shoulder blades and a gentle pinch to your sides serves as his response, effectively pulling you out of the foggy haze overcoming you, and instinctively making you jump.

Taking that as the okay, Nagi's own large hands rest over Reo's, letting him see how you like it best. You look down to watch the way they're both gripping you, how good Reo is at teaching Nagi the right pace, all while Reo was learning himself, too. Nagi's hand caresses his friend's, his fingers rubbing along the tops of Reo's absentmindedly.

"Reo, do they like to be kissed?" Your face gets hot at the implication and the way Nagi speaks about you like you aren't in the room, all while still staring right at you.

Without saying a word, one of Reo's hands slides away from your body to tug his friend by the chin towards himself gently, regaining Nagi's attention quickly before slotting his lips between his. You can tell they've done this before from the seamless way Nagi exhales and slides his tongue into Reo's mouth, like he's been waiting for the same relief you have.

"Mhm,", Reo hums as the pair pull apart just far enough where their lips still brush as he speaks, "they do, just like that."

You say nothing as Nagi's big eyes stare into yours, letting him adjust and get closer until you're engulfed by him.

His tall, wide frame encompassing yours as he kisses you slowly. He's more gentle than you were expecting, more careful, taking his time to taste you without making you feel so intruded upon.

You feel like you're on fire. Everything is hot and stuffy, Nagi's spit mixing with yours as two pairs of hands roam freely across your body, no longer caring where they travel to.

As wrong as the voice in the back of your mind kept telling you this was, nothing was louder than the growing ache between your legs. The one you knew Reo could quiet. At least temporarily.

All you need to do is ask.

"Reo."

His eyes roam across your figure.

"Shh, I know."

Warm fingers sneak between yours and Nagi's bodies, intertwined, to rub you where you need him most. You breathe a soft moan into Nagi's mouth.

"There you go, Reo. Looks like they like that." Despite his choice of words, he almost sounds like cocky. Like he knows Reo knows you're feeling good, he just likes saying it.

He continues to kiss you, moving until Reo can reach you more comfortably, kissing down your neck until your thighs start to shake and attempt to clamp shut. You didn't realize how pent up and close you already were.

Your lips feel cold as Nagi pulls away, the whine close to spilling from your lips swallowed by Reo as he leans down to take his spot, groaning lewdly at the feeling of what it's like to finally kiss you.

Nagi watches you come undone. He twitches at the way you sigh and tug at Reo, rolling your hips into his palm and mindlessly repeating thank you as you catch your breath.

"It's my turn now, right?"

——————

[pupkashi]

movie nights

gojo satoru has developed a new weakness: romcoms

a/n: hi friends !! hope you are all well <3 just a quick little something I’ve been thinking of

wordcount: 1,138

masterlist

“okay give it one shot and i swear i will never ask you to watch a romcom ever again!” you’re pleading, seconds away from getting on your knees and waving your hands in the air, shouting a ‘please, please, please, please’ until he caves to your wishes.

“what’s it called again?” he’s sighing, already pulling the streaming app onto the tv as you’re grinning widely.

“crazy, stupid, love! you’re gonna love it i swear” you giggle, cuddling into his side as he run his fingers up and down your arm absentmindedly.

it’s only 10 minutes into the movie when you’re glancing at your boyfriend, biting back a grin when you see his eyes glued to his screen. you’re shocked when you hear a giggle from the 6 ft something man as ryan gosling flirts on screen.

“did you just giggle at ryan gosling?” you’re smiling and he only looks at you with one brow lifted. “you didn’t? it’s fuckimg ryan gosling” he emphasizes and you nod your head, “fair,” you reply settling back into his side as you two focus on the movie.

satoru is almost in tears by the end of the movie, a heartfelt smile on his face as he watches the ending unfold, giggling at the dialogue (or maybe ryan gosling).

“so what did you think?” you ask, grabbing the remote after the credits start rolling. your lovers unusual silence causes you to glance at him, bursting into laughter as you take in the pout on his lip and his expression of defeat.

“i cant believe i was wrong” he mumbles, “how can this happen to me, how could i be defeated?” he’s holding his head in his hands dramatically as you wheeze from laughter, squeaking a bit as you try to calm yourself down.

“does this make me the strongest” you laugh, shoving him lightly, his blue eyes narrow at you playfully, tackling you so he’s laying ontop of you, his bed resting in the crook of your neck as he’s sighing loudly.

“so what did you think” you smile, already knowing his answer. he’s not moving as his lips mumble against your skin, tickling you slightly and pushing him off you, “can’t hear you” you tease, satoru pouts a bit.

“it was amazing, it was real cinema” he sighs, his eyes screwed shut as he tries to force some tears out of his eyes.

“okay well what do you wanna watch now?” you ask, giving him the remote. satoru is quiet as he hands you the remote, not daring to look you in the eye.

“another one” he mumbles, trying his best to avoid your gaze.

“say that again?” you smile, there’s a shit eating grin on your face as he repeats the two words. “what happened to my satoru? the one who called romcoms the downfall of society?” you accuse, laughing as he rolls his eyes and gets off of you, pouting and sitting on the opposite end of the couch.

“people can change! I’m a changed man” he says, closing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. he still has a small pout on his soft lips, opening one eye to peak if you were staring at him, satisfied that you were he hugged once more.

“alright i believe you” you smile, moving so that your arms wrapped around his waist, squeezing a bit. “so i have like three other ones tied for second favorite of mine, let me show you” he’s paying attention to you now, eyes glued to the screen as you show him the previews for the movies.

“hm” he has a finger on his chin and his brows are furrowed, “i think i wanna watch 10 things i hate about you” you’re cheering as you press play, the two of you giggling to each other as you cuddle up, silent as the movie begins to play.

it had been only a couple days since that night, and satoru was off overseas on a mission, texting you more often than not and calling you anytime he could.

hey what’s the hbo password?

the sudden text catches you off guard, furrowing your brows as you reply, unlocking your front door.

*******

you can at least ask me about my day >:(

how was your day sweetheart <333 ??

the apple of my eye

my sweet sweet lover

you’re rolling your eyes, smiling and shaking your head at your boyfriends actions. curiosity gets the best of you, and soon enough you’re logging into hbo, going to satorus profile and your mouth is wide open.

Continue Watching: Confessions of a Shopaholic

you’re full on laughing, scrambling for your phone as you call your boyfriend.

“hi sweets can we talk in like… 47 minutes and 28 seconds?” his eyes flicking between his phone and the tv screen in his hotel room.

“why’s that?” You ask, your brow arched and suddenly he’s panicking a bit. “you’re too busy for me now? is that it?” your voice is stern and it’s taking everything for you to not burst into a smile.

“no! of course not sweetheart it’s just-” he’s pausing the movie, and you’re cutting him off before he can admit to his crimes.

“is it Rebecca Bloomberg? or are you too busy giggling over Luke? which is understandable by the way” you laugh, toppling over and wheezing as you see the utter shock on your lovers face.

“how did you- but- i can explain okay?” he’s speaking loudly, trying his best to save face and spewing all sorts of lies.

“-so when you think about it if i didn’t watch it the world would’ve burned!” he finishes after a second, you’re shaking your head at him.

“tell me what you think of the ending, I’m gonna make dinner and sleep, take care okay?” you’re saying your goodbyes as he blows a much too loud kiss to the camera.

when satoru returned from his mission he did what any sane man does. he walked into his home, kissed his wonderful, amazing, beautiful partner, order dinner for the two of you, and put on one of the movies he’d been dying to watch.

How to lose a guy in 10 days.

it was funny really, how many times you’d changed his mind on things he’d always sworn he hated. if anyone had told him he’d be in a stable loving relationship, watching romcoms deep into the morning he would’ve laughed at them in their face. if he’d been told he would like the way anyone cooked cauliflower or a variety of veggies he would’ve ignored them, calling them dirty liars.

yet there he was, watching romcoms with you until 4 am, having some dinner you’d cooked with a side of veggies that he absolutely devoured. and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[pianokantzart]

If you would change anything in The Mario movie like dialouge changes, scene changes or adding new scenes or just in general improve the pacing, what would it be?🤔

I think we can all agree we needed more Luigi in the movie, and many of us are of the opinion that the loss of the "prison break" plot line hinted at in the concept art is tragic. However, as long as I'm only talking tiny changes to pad out the runtime, I think some more scenes of Luigi in the prison would've been good; chatting with King Penguin, learning more about the world, maybe even a short-lived escape attempt that highlights his resourcefulness? Just an extra sprinkling of Luigi.

I'd also add a little conversation between Mario and Toad over the course of their adventure. Toad petty much just looked at Mario and said "you're my best friend now" and Mario is like "???? Uh... okay???" and then at the end of the film they fist bump. The animation did all of the heavy lifting to show them forming any sort of bond, and while it doesn't feel too forced the end result is that we know nothing about Toad except that he's a friendly guy who's the bravest toad in his kingdom. What's his story? What's his background? Does he have any motivations beyond just a love for adventure? What's going on with that little guy?

Finally, the scene of The Mario Bros hanging out in their room after dinner could've used a bit of extra time. What we got was wonderful and sweet, but it was the only quiet moment between them before the plot kicked into high gear, and their conversation lasted literally 20 seconds. I would've like it if it was stretched out a little tiny bit longer. Just a quiet back and forth to better establish the bros mindsets, their hopes and dreams, etc. A nice moment to breathe and truly hammer home their bond before the ball got rolling.

The movie by no means needs to be dialogue heavy, and I don't mind getting to fill in the gaps where emotions/motivations aren't specifically explained, but I think a few more interactions between the characters now and then would've greatly helped the pacing.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FOR EX LOVERS *  assorted awkward dialogue, adjust as necessary

i didn't think you came to this place anymore!

well, this just got awkward.

is that your new girlfriend?

fancy running into you here.

i was never good enough for you.

been a long time since i last saw you.

you left this at my place. thought i'd bring it over.

so... can we talk?

i've moved on from you.

you haven't changed a bit.

you're still the asshole i once knew.

can we not do this here?

life's been hard without you.

i think we can work it out.

i'm still in love with you.

we were never meant to be.

i can't believe i used to date you.

do you have a second to talk?

seriously? out of all the things to talk about?

at least we tried to make it work.

you never gave me back my things.

is that your new boyfriend?

i really don't need this right now.

we didn't part ways on very good terms.

i'd like to apologize for how i acted.

it was good to have some time apart.

you should probably go.

somehow i'm managing.

i'm not sticking around to find out.

you look... good.

can we not do this in front of them?

i still think about you all the time.

you changed your hair.

don't you dare try and blame me for that.

is that your new partner?

i deserve an apology.

this is a little awkward, i have to admit.

i was hoping i'd see you again.

you two make a cute couple.

i don't love you anymore.

i never gave up on us.

you were never there for me.

when i needed you most, you were gone.

i'll never forgive you for what you did.

we're never getting back together.

let's sit at our old table.

of course i still know your order.

i never want to see you again.

how've you been since we last spoke?

a lot of things have happened since we broke up.

do you ever think about what happened between us?

there are a lot of things i wish i could take back.

i never should have said those things.

i missed that smile of yours.

you deserved better than that, you know.

i was never good for you.

we never would have worked out, anyway.

we make better friends.

was the sex was good, at least?

you look really good. i'm happy for you.

i never like how it ended between us.

i'll regret saying this, but i still have love for you.

i'm leaving. don't follow me.

you're wearing the perfume i bought you.

no hard feelings, i swear.

you look happy with them.

we just couldn't make it. that's okay.

can i buy you a drink? for old times' sake?

what are you doing later?

are you seeing someone new?

i knew you'd be dating them.

this reminds me of the night we met.

you shouldn't talk like that.

don't flirt with me.

it's been a while since we broke up.

i wish you'd just go.

if i stay, it'll just make things awkward.

you needed me, and i failed you.

how long did it take you to find someone new?

i was a lousy partner.

i was so focused on myself that i didn't realize you were suffering.

breaking up with you was the worst decision i ever made.

i'd like to start seeing you again.

let's try again. see what happens.

will you give me another chance?

try to see it my way.

can we take this outside?

before you ask, no, i'm not sleeping with anyone.

i actually enjoy being single.

i need some time to work on myself before i start dating again.

[stayteezdreams]

Your Smile

Plot: When you can't seem to find anything to brighten your mood, someone else takes it upon themselves to try to make you smile. Genre: Angst, Comfort and some Fluff

Pairing: Lee Jihoon "Woozi" x Gn!Reader

Request: “You bought me flowers?” “Yeah, well I noticed you’d seemed kinda down, so I wanted to cheer you up.” (<changed a bit in dialogue to fit better)

Requested By: @otsilliak

Warnings: Depression is not mentioned directly but a lot of what the reader is described as feeling is very similar to it, or can be read as them being in a depressive episode. There is also kissing towards the end.

A/n: This is my first time writing for Woozi (and anyone in Seventeen for that matter) so I hope you enjoy it!

Words: ~2.7k

As you walked down the road towards your friends building, you tried to pep yourself up. You weren't sure about the exact reason, but you had been feeling down for the last few days.

Nothing seemed important enough to you, exciting enough, or fun enough. Your hobbies had become chores, and you had very little desire to hang out with anyone.

But after you were begged to come over and hang out with the boys after days of avoiding them, you finally gave in and said yes. Maybe being around their energy would bring you out of your slump.

Besides, no matter how bad you were feeling, you couldn't resist seeing Jihoon, especially since you hadn't seen him in nearly a week. But even with the desire to see him, you feared he may grow worried if he noticed your changed behavior.

When you arrived, you put on a smile that you hoped looked real. It seemed to work as everyone greeted you cheerfully, and acted the usual around you.

You tried your best to match their energy and kept a smile on your face, not wanting to worry them. Their energy did nothing to boost your own, but you tried your best to seem like you were alright.

No one seemed to notice anything was off about you, no one except Jihoon.

You had been slow in your replies to his texts the past few days. Something he found unusual. What was worse as that you seemed to be avoiding hanging out, not just with the others, but with him.

When you finally came over, he noticed something was off the second you walked into the room. You had on a fake smile he recognized from various forced conversation's. The other's didn't seem to notice, too lost in their own worlds.

But Jihoon knew you, better than anyone. And something was wrong.

When you met his eyes, your smile brightened, and for a second it was almost your real smile, but it faded quickly.

As he watched you over the next hour, he only noticed even more things were wrong.

Your eyes were tired, not nearly as bright as usual. When anyone told jokes, you forced a laugh. You didn't eat anything, even though you usually snacked on anything that was out. You refused to play any games, just saying you felt like watching.

It was all wrong, and he couldn't seem to get you alone to ask you about it. He didn't want to ask if you were alright in front of everyone, knowing you'd hate the vibe to become serious as all attention would focus on you.

When you announced it was time for you to leave, much earlier than you would normally do, the others finally picked up on how different you seemed.

You excused that you had put off some important work stuff you had to do before the day was over. But Jihoon could tell even they weren't buying it.

He followed you to the door, raising his hand to warn the others not to follow. When you got to the door, he gently grabbed your wrist and you gave him a curious look.

"Is everything okay Y/n?"

For a moment, your facade almost crumbled. Jihoon always had a way of seeing through you, seeing you for everything you really were. He saw everything, except the fact that you had feelings for him. But that was beside the point.

Something you always found difficult, was lying to him. But you didn't want to worry him over something that would pass.

So putting on your most innocent smile you nodded, "Yeah I'm fine Ji, just a bit tired, I haven't been sleeping well."

It wasn't a lie necessarily, you hadn't been sleeping well. But you did omit the fact that a lot more than a was wrong with you than just a lack of sleep.

Jihoon felt his chest clench tightly as he watched your face almost fall, before you forced a fake smile and brushed his worries away. Maybe you hadn't been sleeping, but there was more, he knew there was. But why wouldn't you tell him?

You gently squeezed his arm as you began to leave "Bye, I'll talk to you later yeah?"

As he watched you leave, worry filled him. Had work been stressing you out? Was it something more personal?

"Is Y/n okay?" Joshua asked when he re-entered the room.

He shook his head "I don't think so."

He couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to check on you. He missed your real smile, he missed the way your eyes would light up when you saw him, making his heart flutter.

Deciding he needed to do something, anything to make you smile, to make you open up to him, he left the dorm. The others watched him leave, all of them knowing he was going to you.

You lied to them, you had nothing for work you needed to do. Guilt sat in your gut as you replayed the disappointed looks on your friend's faces as you left. But the worried look on Jihoon's face as you lied to him made you feel worse.

You now sat slumped on your couch, staring blankly, the only noise heard being the ambient sound of the city outside. But it didn't reach your ears.

Time passed but you weren't aware of it. Nothing seemed to break you from your thoughts as you stared blankly ahead of you. Why did you feel like this? Why was it so hard to get past it?

As a new noise seemed to reach through your thoughts and into your ears, you looked around, trying to process what was happening. When the sound came again, you realized someone was at your door.

You let out a breath, not feeling like interacting with anyone, but as another knock sounded, you finally forced yourself to rise and made your way to the door.

Without looking through the peep-hole you pulled the door open and your heart jumped. Jihoon stood in front of you, a small frown on his face that was replaced by a soft smile when he saw you. In one arm was a bundle of pretty pink flowers, in his other hand, a bag.

"Jihoon" You said softly, uncertain of what to do.

"Y/n." He replied with a soft smile, but you sensed some nervousness behind it.

"What are you doing here?"

"Did you really think I was just gonna let you leave without telling me what was really going on?"

You felt your chest clench tightly as a sudden bubble of emotion washed over you.

Why was it always him?

"I can never hide anything from you." You stated, your voice tired, but you held a soft smile that Jihoon was glad to see was almost real.

"Never. Now can I come in?"

You hesitated, not sure if you wanted to have the conversation that would surely follow, but you gave in and nodded softly opening the door for him to enter.

When he got inside, he set the bag on the counter before turning to hand you the flowers.

Your heart fluttered as you took them, meeting his eyes almost shyly "You got me flowers?"

He smiled shyly and shrugged his head "Since I noticed you seemed kind of down, I wanted to cheer you up a bit."

Another smile graced your face and it was a little brighter than before. Jihoon felt his heart swell a bit at the sight.

"Thank you." He watched you put them in a vase and set them on the table before you looked over at him almost hesitantly.

Jihoon walked over to you and you felt your breath catch. "Now tell me what's going on."

"I don't know if I can."

"What do you mean?" He asked with a voice full of concern.

"I don't know what's wrong with me, nothing bad has even happened, I just feel..." You trailed off, uncertain of even how to state how you felt.

Jihoon could see this in your gaze and he understood enough. Gently he reached forward and pulled you into a hug. The second your head met his chest as his hand rested on the back of your head, you felt another wave of emotion bubble up. This time you couldn't stop it as tears welled in your eyes.

You wrapped your arms around him and he hugged you a little tighter, feeling the wall you had built up crumble.

"I can't shake it off" you mumbled into his chest "I hate feeling like this Ji, I want it to stop."

He could hear the pain in your voice and he felt his chest clench as he clenched his eyes shut. He hated seeing you like this.

"It will pass Y/n, I know it will. And I will be right here until it does."

You let out a shaky breath and nodded your head, trusting his words, and hoping they were right. As you breathed in his familiar scent, you were once again reminded just why you had fallen for your best friend. But that didn't matter now, just as long as he was here.

Pulling away from him, you sniffled as you wiped at your eyes. Jihoon saw the remnant tears and he frowned a bit. Gently, he wiped your face with his sleeve, and you let out a soft huff of laughter at the action.

"Have you eaten anything yet?" He asked softly, and you shook your head.

"I brought your favorite." He turned and began opening the bag he brought.

As he unpacked it, the familiar scents your favorite dishes filled your nose and you suddenly became aware of just how hungry you were. You had been so lost in your own mind and feelings you hadn't been eating properly.

"You haven't been eating have you?" Jihoon asked, as if reading your mind.

You frowned a bit and shook your head, almost shamefully.

He just nodded as he began setting the food out. "How about we take this to the living room, and eat it while watching some crappy movies?"

You met his eyes and he saw emotion pooling in your face and he just smiled, reaching out and gently rubbing your cheek.

"I'm not leaving you alone like this."

You smiled at him and nodded your head, the emotion in your chest not quite as heavy as it had been before.

Even if he would never love you in the same way you had grown to love him, it was okay. Even if some days it hurt a bit more than others, it was okay. As long as he was by your side in one way or another, especially when you needed him the most. It was okay, you would be okay.

Remnant trays of the eaten food were littered along the table as you leaned against Jihoon. The second movie was half-way through and you felt a feeling of content wash over you that had recently been a stranger to you.

Taking a moment to register yourself, you realized you didn't feel as drained, or as heavy as you had hours before. Jihoon's hand subconsciously stroked your shoulder as his arm was draped across your back.

Was it his presence, his care for you that helped pull you from the darkness? Was it the food and rest you seemed to need forced on you?

Looking over at Jihoon's face you studied him for a moment. You admired his delicate features, and his furrowed brow as he seemed locked in on the movie.

"Jihoon?" You asked softly, your voice just above a whisper.

His attention was immediately on you, the movie forgotten the second your voice called to him.

His eyes lingered on you for a moment as he registered the look on your face. He felt his heart flutter.

"You okay?"

You nodded softly. "Thank you."

"Why are you thanking me now?"

"Because I feel...better." Your voice was soft, but he could tell you meant what you said.

He smiled at you "You do?"

You nodded and smiled softly at him and he felt his heart swell. It was your real smile, it was soft and almost tired, but it was real.

"You always make me feel better."

The emotion in your voice made his chest tighten. There was something else behind it, something he had thought he heard a few times before, something he himself felt, but never acted on.

His had tightened on your shoulder a bit and you saw his eyes flick to your lips for only a split second. Your heart skipped a beat, but you refused to linger on it, telling yourself it's not what you think.

Silence hung between you before you looked away from him. Suddenly he hooked his fingers under your chin and made you look at him again.

You gave him a questioning gaze and your eyes widened a bit as he leaned forward. And as his lips pressed against your forehead, you let out a soft breath.

You felt disappointment wash over you, but confusion and excitement at the same time.

Looking up at him, you frowned softly, "What was that for?"

A soft smile sat on his lips, and his voice came out soft, almost a whisper. "That was me working up the courage to do this."

Leaning in, his lips were suddenly on yours. They were soft, and seemed to fit perfectly against yours. His hand rose to cup your cheek as he deepened the kiss a little before he pulled away.

Seeing the stunned and frozen expression on your face Jihoon felt panic rise.

"Was I wrong?" He asked suddenly and you could see worry on his features "Did I read that wrong?"

You shook your head softly, still trying to find your words. "Did you- read what wrong?"

"Well I thought- I thought that maybe, you wanted me to kiss you as much as I wanted to kiss you."

"You wanted to kiss me." You repeated, still stunned.

"I always want to kiss you." He said softly, almost shy.

Your heart jolted at this sudden confession.

"Then why haven't you before?" You asked with a hint of bewilderment.

"I was never sure if I was imagining it or if you felt the same. And I guess I was afraid it might ruin our friendship."

You shook your head, turning towards him fully. "Nothing could ruin our friendship. And, you weren't imagining anything. I've had feelings for you for a long time. I just...also never thought you might feel the same."

He let out a soft scoff as his hand held your face again. He grazed over your features as he lingered on your lips, gently caressing his thumb over them before he met your eyes again.

"I think the love I've held for you hasn't been just friendship for a long time."

You smiled softly, "Mine either."

His eyes lingered on your smile, as his heart pounded in his chest. His own smile widened before he leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours again.

This time, you returned the kiss, leaning closer as your hand reached up and gently grabbed his arm. His other hand gripped your waist as he pulled you closer, his past desires to hold you close washing over him, as he realized he finally could.

Pulling away breathless for a second he pressed his forehead against yours.

"Should I stop? I don't want this to be too much after how you've been feeling."

You smiled at him, and cupped his cheek. "I'm alright. I feel even better now actually." You saw a blush crawl over his cheeks at this and you giggled softly. "I just want you to stay."

He shook his head softly "I told you I wont leave you, and I meant it."

Leaning in again, he kissed you with more passion than before, as he poured all of is feelings into you. He would hold you close until all the darkness faded, and then he would continue to hold you after it was gone.

xx End xx

This turned into a bit of a comfort fic, and I really hope you enjoyed reading it!

If you want to be tagged in future Seventeen content, (or just Woozi stuff) let me know!

[burningupp]

how about skz reaction or headcanon about you being pregnant

oooh okay, I do love when men are whipped for their pregnant partners i find it so cute :((

I'm gonna write this as a shorter headcanon paired with a tiny bit of dialogue for each, I hope that's okay <3

pairing: afab!reader x skz (no pronouns - if i used any, lmk <3)

warnings: really fluffy, mentions of pregnancy (duh), mentions of body insecurity, mentions of anxiety about becoming a parent (jisung), mentions of food, joke about the word daddy (minho), lmk if there's anything else!

Chan

I feel like he would be so extremely happy and proud all the time when you're pregnant. he'd just be like "we made that!! look at my partner, they're carrying our BABY!!" and lowkey everyone would be tired of him talking about you and showing pictures of ultrasounds, you and your belly bc mans shows everyone he talks to for more than 15 seconds. Real proud boi. also, 100% goes to birthing classes with you simply because he's more nervous for the birth than you are :((

"Y/n, have I ever told you how proud I am that you're carrying our baby?" he asks one night. You're half-laying on the couch, because honestly, that's one of the only comfortable positions you have left as your body grows.

You smile over at him, lightly rolling your eyes. He tells you every single day, but you can't say you don't appreciate it - kind of makes some of the pains and aches worth it. Well, more than having a baby already did.

"Yes, my love," you hum. At your answer, he cheeses harder than ever, his heart and chest so full at spending time with you and seeing the way your body changes to accommodate for the little one. He doesn't think he will ever be happier, except for the day that he finally gets to meet your little one.

Minho

okay but this one would definitely be nagging you every single day to take your vitamins and eat enough to feed both you and the baby. he would be cooking every single day, just to make sure himself that the food is safe for you to eat :(( I genuinely think that while he may be a tsundere at times, this would really bring out his affectionate and responsible side in a whole new way. he would definitely whine every time you ask him to do something for you, but then turn around and do it with a smile after like 2 seconds. Whipped.

"Baby, did you take your vitamins today?" the love of your life asks over his shoulder while cooking lunch for the both of you.

"Yes, dad," you sigh dramatically, but you can't help the smile spreading across your features anyway. Instead of bothering him, though, it fills him with indescribable joy. He's going to be a dad, and soon. He can't wait.

"Yah, you eating the vitamins means that the little one will get them, and I'm their dad, so," he says back, squinting at you while he stirs the contents of the pan to make sure it doesn't stick.

He also wants you to have the vitamins, but you don't need to know that. It would ruin his image if you did, obviously. Although he thinks that if he thinks of the concept of being a dad again, he will explode.

"Mhm, well you could do with asking me less than five times before noon, daddy."

His heart damn near bursts, and he can no longer help but grin hugely at you and abandon the food on the stove in favor of kissing your forehead gingerly.

Changbin

the biggest hype man ever. tells you you're beautiful every time he sees you and 100% means it. tries really hard to do research on ways he can help you, and asks his mom and dad questions all the time. buys baby clothes from the moment you tell him that you're pregnant, and buys matching clothes for all of you. hears that swimming can help with the back pain, so he starts taking you swimming every single week - and compliments your swim suit every single time bc it accentuates his favorite belly.

"Wow," you hear your partner breathe as you walk into the living room in your new maternity pants. "I really am the luckiest man alive."

You know he means it, but it doesn't stop you from blushing and looking away. Changbin isn't having it.

"Hey," he says, coming over to wrap his arms around you gently and press a tender kiss to your forehead. "I'm serious. You've never been more beautiful to me. You're incredible."

Your knees grow weak, because honestly, what are you supposed to do with that? You just cheese at him and kiss his cheek in return. "Thank you, baby."

"I mean it," he murmurs, his hand coming up between you to touch your stomach softly. His eyes are so filled with love you almost start crying. "I can't wait to see you be a mom."

"I can't wait to see you be a dad," you grin, and his eyes widen for a second.

"I'm gonna be a dad," he says incredulously, the biggest smile on his face. His eyes glitter with excitement, and you think you've never been more in love with him.

Hyunjin

he's kinda scared, ngl. not to be a dad, that he's super excited for, but for you to give birth. he knows you're strong, but he doesn't know if he can handle seeing you in pain </3 definitely anxious all the time. you want to shower? not without him, you don't. wanna cook? don't you dare. reaching for something on a shelf? absolutely not. you're so annoyed but endeared bc he's so doting and cute :')

You know that Hyunjin doesn't like it when you change the sheets in the state you're in, but you couldn't help yourself. You changed them while he was at practice, and now he's huffing and scowling like you did something to offend him.

"Babe, I'm sorry," you plead, and due to the hormones, you feel tears build up before falling without your permission. At the sound of your sniffle, your partner immediately shoots up from the couch to come check on you.

"Hey, no, it's okay! I'm sorry, I shouldn't be treating you like this," he says sadly. You shake your head though.

"I know you just want to take care of me. It's okay. It's just the hormones," you pout. Hyunjin laughs.

"Okay. In the future, just wait for me, okay? I don't care if I'm tired; you're carrying a freaking baby, in comparison I'm better than ever, even after practice."

You nod, smiling at him and holding your tummy. He's going to make a fantastic dad.

Jisung

a Babie. kinda scared, and this time bc he doesn't know if he's gonna be a good dad. he's still super excited, though! cannot believe the way your body is changing, and keeps touching your belly in awe. also super impressed by how you're handling it all and your knowledge of babies. literally perplexed as to where you learned it all. just like hyunjin, he's super protective. he doesn't know much about pregnancies, they kinda freak him out ngl, but he knows you shouldn't be overexerting yourself. always asks for advice and reassurance, even though you know he's gonna be a fantastic dad. you're just lowkey worried it's gonna leave you with two babies instead of one lmao

"Hey babe?"

It's 3am, but it's not like you could get comfortable enough to sleep anyway. Not being allowed to lay on your back is literally the worst. As soon as you even accidentally try, Jisung yells at you - lovingly, of course.

You give a hum and wait for him to continue.

"What if it doesn't like me?"

You almost laugh, but the genuine fear in his voice makes you pause. It breaks your heart that he's scared, but you understand him - becoming a parent is scary.

"First of all, call my baby an 'it' one more time and I'll punch you," you say softly, and it makes him snort. Success. "Second of all, there's no way they won't like you. Have you met you? You're amazing with kids. You'll be just fine."

"Thanks, love," he mutters, turning around in bed to look at you in the dark. An arm slides around your waist gently, his hand predictably landing on your tummy. "It can't be that bad - I mean, I have you. Super-mom," he says with the biggest grin you've ever seen. You snort.

Felix

hyper, learning everything he can from whoever he can. bothers any staff members with families, asking about their kids and how to parent. literally won't stop touching you for even a second, cheesing 24/7 like a total dork bc he can't believe that the love of his life is gonna give him a baby :(( keeps an eye on you, but isn't overwhelmingly worried - he knows you're fine to do most things despite your huge belly. he mostly lets you judge what you can and can't do, and thanks you every time you tell him something is difficult for you bc he's adorable like that <3

You're cooking dinner in the kitchen, but to no one's surprise, you're not alone. Felix hasn't left your side since he got home and wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your temple with a huge smile that would put the actual sun to shame.

You're feeling a bit crabby; your back hasn't stopped hurting for the past week. Your bump is becoming a lot more prominent, and boy, are you feeling it. You stir the sauce again, and step away from the stove. Your hands are on your back before you can help it, and you're hissing out a breath through your teeth. Of course, Felix notices.

"You alright, darling?" he asks gently. He's by your side in less than a second, hand on the small of your back to give you some support; it may not be much, but he's trying his best.

"I'm okay," you breathe after a second, smiling at the father of your baby. "My back's still feeling rough, that's all."

"I'm sorry, baby," he pouts, rubbing your back where his hand is resting. "If you want, I can finish this up?"

You consider it for a moment, but ultimately decide that you want to finish. You shake your head, and while you know he's dying to give you a moment to rest, he just nods and kisses your forehead. He doesn't leave your side until you're safely sitting in your chair at the dining table, just in case, but he doesn't try to take over. You have a big dumb grin on your face for the rest of the night.

Seungmin

he's not very outwardly expressive with other people, but it's always been different with you. it's not very overwhelming tho, he just doesn't always know how to express what he's feeling. that changes when you get pregnant, bc suddenly he can't help but constantly tell you how amazing you are. it's insane to him to see your body modify itself to fit your little one, and the thought of a mini you makes him absolutely die on the inside. definitely does as much as he can to make life easier for you, but in the subtlest of ways <3

"Seungmin?" you ask out loud as you pad down the hall to the spare bedroom - soon to become the nursery for your first child together. You smile at the sight of him carefully placing the throw pillows you just bought together on the small loveseat in the room.

"Oh, hey," he says, moving towards you when he sees you. He puts a piece of your hair behind your ear and smiles at you. "Did you see the sandwich I placed on the kitchen counter?"

Your heart is bursting with love (and hormones), so you can't help but well up a little bit. You duck your head to hide the unshed tears, removing any lingering evidence lest the man teases you to infinity.

"Baby," he grins in a teasing tone, eyes twinkling mischievously, "did I make you cry?"

The question is accompanied by a pretentious and over exaggerated pout, so you snort and smack him on the arm. He just giggles and goes to bring you to his chest gently, carefully maneuvering around your belly.

"I'm sorry, baby," he laughs.

"No you're not, you liar," you tease back, and when he laughs even more, you somehow don't mind anymore.

"No, I'm not. Now, let's go get you that sandwich, yeah? Or are you gonna waste all my hard work?"

Jeongin

kinda scared, but somehow calmer than jisung. just like felix, he asks literally anyone he can think of for parenting advice. people get sick of him real quick lmao. really adamant that he do literally everything in the house, since you're "hard at work cooking up a life". gets a tiny copy of every single ultrasound and puts it in his wallet. buys stupid books like "astrophysics for babies" and thinks they will genuinely work </3

"Y/n, come look at this!"

You turn around in the aisle of the grocery store, going back around the corner of the shelf to stare at Jeongin. He's holding up a tiny onesie with a matching hat. You quickly realize it matches his sweater and hat pretty well, and you can't help but giggle at him.

"Baby," you start, but he's not listening.

"Now we just need to get you one, too, and we can all match! Actually, we should just throw everything out and-"

"Jeongin. Sweetheart. Love of my life. You-"

"You forgot father to your baby," he grumbles, which makes you laugh even harder.

"Yes, my sweetheart, the love of my life, and the father of my baby," you correct, and when he looks satisfied, you continue. "I'm only like, 3 months along - we don't need to buy clothing yet."

"But-"

"We also in fact did not need the bottle warmer, the book for teaching our child Chinese, or even the very expensive walker you bought." When he pouts again, you soften a little. "Look. One outfit, okay? But no more until I'm at least 6 months along, yes?"

He's not listening, but you don't care much when he presses an almost bruising kiss to your cheek in glee. You're definitely going to be losing a lot of arguments for the coming 20 years or so.

a/n: that's it! i hope you enjoyed it <3 i'm sorry it took me a while, as i alluded to before, i have some pretty difficult uni courses rn but i am doing my best!

if you like my work, please let me know through a comment or a reblog! it gives me motivation to keep writing &lt;3

[ladykyriaa]

hello - just wanted to ask. I finished the anime and want to read the series but I’m a bit confused. Do I read the published light novel or the web novel?and is there a manga too? What’s the best one to read?

OKAY. SO.

After the anime, I'd personally recommend reading the Manga first (there are less chapters, so you'd be able to finish them quickly) and do note there are two versions of the manga.

THE MANGA

the first is the one published by Square Enix. (This is the manga that the anime takes reference from) It has less chapter than the other version but this one is way more popular and widely known because it's already officially translated. You can read it from Mangadex I think. If you're continuing from the anime, then I'd say chapter 37 (Rakan and Fengxian's story) is the perfect place to start as there are several scenes the anime didn't put (though they're pretty much irrelevant to the plot)

The second manga is the one published by Shogakugan (GX), and it has more chapters. Though unfortunately they haven't been officially translated (some fans are working on it but it's pretty far compared to the published chapters) You can also read it from Mangadex. And FYI this version is very different in terms of the art style, dialogues and the way the story is depicted from the anime. (They're still essentially the same though, which is from the Light novel)

THE LIGHT NOVEL

TmThere are already 10 Volumes of it translated, though i don't think they're official (meaning the physical english version isn't sold anywhere) while the Japanese already have 15 volumes.

(Now you see why I ask that you start with the manga first lol)

You can read the LN from Jnovelsclub. And if you wish to continue from the anime, just start from volume 3

THE WEB NOVEL

Basically the WN is like the draft version before the LN gets published. There are tons of change from WN to LN so if you're gonna read this, I'd say red it last.

You can find it on this japanese website

There's a fan translated version out there somewhere (though if you wish for the link send me a dm since OP themselves have said not to share them unnecessarily)

I think it's pretty much already at idk, volume 17? If we're to count it with the LN version. Though again, they're drafts. So a lot could change or get removed by the time the LN officially gets published.

Sorry this was a long one lol. But I genuinely love talking abt this anime sm so I went on a rent owmdjexjsjs. Hope this helps!!

[buckevantommy]

re: BuckTommy Coffee Date Song Choice

Okay, so I really can’t stand the song choice for the coffee date scene. I made a supercut of their scenes so far, but every time I get to the cafe I feel the urge to mute it. So, I wanna fix it. 

While watching this scene I couldn’t help but think a Nick Drake song would’ve been a better choice. I don’t know how it works with music rights etc. but I do think the music editor dropped the ball hard on this scene because the song they chose is drab, too slow, and a poor lyrical match (imho). I’ve chosen 4 different Nick Drake songs which I think are a far better match, and I’ve done my best to overlay them. 

[I tried filtering out that background song best i could, but some of the vocals underlying the dialogue were sneaky and stayed behind, so apologies for their presence in the audio. I’m not a pro, just a fan with some spare time and a mac.]

1. Pink Moon - obviously my first choice. The vibe is mellow but not too slow as to drag down the scene. There’s a perfectly timed piano intro as Tommy explains Evan has nothing to apologise for, the change in instrument lining up with the insight. The melody builds as Buck says he wants something with Tommy, the lyrics (imho) giving this feeling of acknowledging this new and beautiful thing and how it’s almost here, he almost has it but not quite (he’s still learning and wants to experience it). We get a bit of instrumental over them discussing the wedding. The lyrics suit Buck’s bi awakening, and bonus points for the mention of ‘pink’ because i just think that’s cute. The song is actually about 20 seconds too short so i had to double it up, but the lyrics still match well and it ends on the mention of ‘pink moon gonna get you all’ with ‘pink moon’ fading out into the wedding scene, which is so cute. 

2. Northern Sky - a great fit lyrically, the discovery of this magical new thing in life and how it (and Tommy) brightens Buck’s world, as well as certain lyrics placing perfectly over relevant dialogue. It’s smoother than the other choices and has more instrument layers; I don’t like when the piano gets boppy in the middle because it feels out of place with the rest of the song and the scene, but the instrumental part that coincides with Buck being vulnerable and honest with Tommy fits and the ending is nice. Also: just realised there's a tink-tink-tink in perfect time with Buck placing the coffee cups down and moving his chair! And it ends with: 'would you love me' which is just so perfect.

3. Place To Be - has the mellowest vibe, a strummed guitar melody, and the lyrics suit Buck's bi awakening not being in his younger years, instead he's just now finally finding clarity. It mentions being new, and has sunshine lyrics, and perfectly places a dejected lyric over Buck reiterating how Tommy said he doesn’t think Buck is ready, followed by the line ‘give me a place to be’ as Buck says he wants to try something with Tommy. Instrumental interlude as Buck asks Tommy to the wedding, with lyrics about being ‘strong in the sun’ as he assures Tommy he’s serious while being bathed in sunlight. It ends on a lyric about being ‘weaker than the palest blue’ and both their eyes are blue, and Tommy just agreed to be Buck’s wedding date, so.

4. Which Will - has a slightly more energised plucked melody but still pretty mellow, it still suits the convo pace. The lyrics suit Buck questioning what Tommy will do, whether Tommy will choose him. There’s a brief instrumental piece where Buck gets his vulnerable moment, and Tommy expresses his interest over the ‘which do you dance for’ lyric. It ends on ‘which will you take now if you won't take me’ tying into the hope of it all. 

💖 I’m curious to know what you guys think: Did you like their song choice? Do you have another song in mind for this scene? I’d also love to know which Nick Drake song you think works best. 💖

[misc-obeyme]

Okay, this is very much specific to myself, but whatever 🫶 What would Barbatos think of an MC that is always dressed up. VERY dressed up. For instance; I'm going to school in a petticoat, two skirts, two shirts, and a full corset... that kind of dressed up.

Like, on one hand, I think he'd really enjoy it, but on the other, I feel like he'd be constantly worried. They're NEVER dressed for the weather, they're NEVER dressed for comfort, and what are they supposed to wear to formal events when they dress like this on the daily?

He'd probably grumble about it to a bit but ultimately still adore their style and offer to make them something for those formal events.

And on the other side of the spectrum, an MC who is never dressed up at all! I'm taking hoodies and sweatpants all the time.

I'm guessing he'd respect them for their choice of comfort over style but also want them to be just a tad more formal around Lord Diavolo.

Put em together and a typically fancy MC being casual only for Barbatos?

We got that phone call from Barbatos in either his most recent or second most recent card, where he's wearing casual clothing, and we get his reaction to MC's reaction. (I hope you know the call I'm talking about because I can not find it for the life of me)

He'd totally be touched to be one of the few MC is casual around!!

I'm almost embarrassed about my reaction that phone call. It's the one called "Out of Character Teatime" and it's from the UR+ Wind Spirits & Surprises, which is his anniversary UR card.

It's great no matter what dialogue option you choose, but there's one where he talks about how he's waiting for you just as himself and not as a butler. And THAT always makes me silly.

But he also ends that call by saying he'll receive you in whichever type of clothing you prefer. Which I found accurate but also funny. I mean, he's basically saying he'll dress formal or casual depending on your preference. And I'm over here like... what if my preference is that you wear whatever you want, huh???

But along those lines, he's all about MC doing whatever they're happiest doing. So I think he'd be happy no matter what style MC chose, as long as they're doing whatever makes them most comfortable.

I think he would absolutely appreciate an MC who dresses up a lot, though. He'd be happy to make them outfits any time and he probably loves to see them wearing something he made.

He would also make clothes for a casual MC. I kinda see him making all kinds of hoodies and such. He's versatile, you know?

And either way, I think he'd be worried about MC being dressed for the weather. Like he appreciates your dedication to style, but really it's going to be cold and you need to wear a jacket. Might also scold you about it if you do it too often or if you actually get sick because of it.

There's very much this secretive aspect of his character, but it's more than just him keeping epic plot-changing secrets. There's also him kinda hiding his true self, too. He plays the part of a butler, but that isn't what defines him. He's a butler, but more than that, he's a person. A being with feelings and needs and times when he isn't perfect. And I think if he was to encounter an MC who revealed that side of themselves to him, no matter how that manifests, he would feel loved and trusted. Just like he loves and trusts MC enough to let them see him in a casual state.

Here I go writing Barb essays again lol.

[tellmealovestory]

Haunted

Summary: An afternoon walk on a crisp fall day leads to story time.

Warnings: 1 line of suggestive dialogue and a few curse words.

Spooktober Masterlist

In your experience the disadvantages outweighed the advantages to living in a small town. 

Small town living involved too few places to shop or eat. The same familiar faces you’ve known and seen since you were a child. Everyone knows your business and secrets. 

But the one thing you loved about small town life was the way everyone went all out decorating for the holidays.

Once the leaves started to change from bright green to burnt orange and ruby red and golden yellow the pumpkins started to come out. On display in big cardboard boxes at the grocery stores for sale and sitting in trailers on the edge of town fresh from the farmers own patches.

Cutout bats and witches hats dotted store windows and the shelves were overfilled with bags of chocolates and suckers. Orange, green and purple pumpkin pails for trick or treating came out as did the halloween costumes ranging from the cute to the downright scary. 

You loved getting bundled up in heavy sweaters and scarves, boots and plaid jackets as you strolled through the town you’ve called home since you were born, leaves crunching beneath your feet, a hot cup of coffee with a little cinnamon sprinkled on top for that extra fall feeling. 

That’s what you and Eddie found yourselves doing one afternoon. The sun was bright and golden, warming your chilled skin as you held his hand and leisurely wandered through the neighborhoods looking at the decorations of each house as you did. 

Conversation was light, but every few seconds he squeezed your hand and you rewarded him with a wide smile. 

Reaching the edge of town after a bit of time you stopped to retie your boot laces that had come undone when Eddie broke the silence. 

“Fucking hate this house. Gives me the creeps every time I see it.” 

You glanced up first at Eddie and then at the house. 

It didn’t look familiar, but you were sure you must have driven or walked past it at least a few times in your life. 

It was the kind of place that you would have remembered. 

A brown fence wrapped around the property with planks of wood missing on about half of it. A crudely written no trespassing sign was painted in what you hoped was red paint and not blood dripped down on certain letters making it appear more sinister than it should.

The grass was overgrown, weeds sprouting up and you wondered why the city hadn’t come to cut it down when the house appeared to be empty. Your gaze traveled up to the porch and even on the sidewalk you could see huge chunks of wood missing, a wide empty crater that made you wonder how many thrill seekers had tripped over it or ended up in the middle while eagerly exploring or fleeing the house.

Some of the windows were broken, a few boarded up with sun faded planks of wood in a criss cross pattern. The windows that were still intact had dull colored curtains still hung up and a few swayed as if someone was standing behind them and moving them. 

There was a hole in the roof and you wrinkled your nose thinking of how much rain and snow must come in during the seasons and how the place must reek of mold with rotten floorboards and how it must be a haven for mice and rats and bats. 

Standing up you shivered despite the lack of a breeze. There was something unsettling about the house. Eddie rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet before changing to bouncing on them. He looked so much like a kid who had a secret he was dying to tell someone and you found it kind of cute. 

“Okay,” you said, dragging the syllables of that word out as you brought your coffee cup up to your lips. “Spill it. What’s the deal with the house?” 

Eddie let out a whoosh of air as if keeping silent had been killing him while you took it all in.

“It’s haunted as shit.” 

“That so?” 

“Oh yeah.” He paused to join you as you booth took in the decrepit house. His eyes took on a faraway look as he began to launch into his story of the haunted as shit house as he so eloquently put it only seconds ago. 

“When I was a kid I broke into it.” 

You snorted because somehow that didn’t surprise you. His gaze slid to yours, a sheepish grin on his face and he shrugged his shoulders seeming to say yeah, would you expect anything less from me?

“Wasn’t a dare or anything like that. Just bored one day. Place is weird as shit. All the furniture is still inside covered with sheets. Peaked under it outta curiosity and it’s still in mint condition, not a speck of dust on it.” 

It was hard to reconcile that image with the dilapidated house you stood in front of.

“Rest of the house is full of dust though,” he continued. “Stairs creak like you wouldn’t believe. Even more than my bed when I’m fuck-”

“Eddie!” you cut off with a laugh much to his disappointment. 

“Anyways,” he said, following your lead and dragging out the syllables of that word. “After I finished exploring downstairs I went upstairs to see what it was like. No furniture, but it was freezing. Went to that window right there.” He pointed to the right side of the house, the windows on the second floor where the curtains were still fluttering as if there was a fan on. 

He paused and you weren’t sure if it was for dramatic effect or because he too was starting to get freaked out by this story and this house. 

“Looked out at the yard for a few minutes and when I turned around there was this old lady standing in the doorway. ‘Cept she wasn’t solid like us. I could see right through her to the wall.” 

Goosebumps popped up on your arms through your thick wool sweater and instinct was telling you it was time to go while common sense was trying to poke holes in his story to discover the truth. But he wasn’t done yet.

“Thought at first it was my imagination. Swear I wasn’t high at the time,” he added quickly as if he knew that was going to be your next question. 

“So what did you do? After you saw her standing there?” 

Eddie’s cheeks turned pastel pink and you were pretty sure it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him blush before. He ducked his head down as if embarrassed by what took place in the next part of the story. 

“Do what I always do. Ran away. Got the fuck out of there.” He laughed a little, but there was little humor in it. Rubbing the back of his neck he glanced up at the house again before turning to you. There was no sparkle in his eyes, no hint of that familiar smirk on his lips letting you know he was about to tell you a tall tale, his shoulders were tense, hunched in even as if all these years later that day was still haunting him. 

“Have you ever been back?” You asked softly, already thinking you knew the answer to that question.

He shook his head, curls dancing along his still pastel pink cheeks. 

“Naw. Try to avoid this part of town.” 

“I’ve lived here my whole life,” you started as you slipped your hand into Eddie’s and turned around to head back to civilization and non-haunted houses. “I don’t know how I’ve never heard any rumors about that house or even remember seeing it.” 

Eddie shrugged and allowed you to pull him away. With your backs to the house and conversation turning to lighter topics the curtains that had been fluttering parted to show an old woman standing at the window wearing a faded white nightgown watching you leave. 

[whumpbug]

whumperless whump event day 22: better out than in @whumperless-whump-event

vomiting / “i got your hair, it's fine.” (that dialogue is shown thru action i still wanted to include it)

see this post for character information!

caretaker: Archie

whumpee: Simon

cw: vomit (not super graphic but. yknow. its there. its the prompt.) AND slightly graphic descriptions of blood and broken bones (unrelated to the vomit)

for those who want to skip the actual vomiting, it starts at the line "Simon are you sure you're--" and ends at the line "I know, I know.."

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Simon was trying, in vain, to nap when a knock on his window startled him awake.

There was really only one person that was so polite as to knock before breaking in. He sprang to his feet.

Well, not really sprang. More like.. slowly dragged himself to his feet so as to not jostle himself more than he needed to. His stomach felt… off.

Well, he sort of felt off in general.

He wasn’t sick though. Nope. No way. Archie was the one with the constitution of an old man, not Simon. Simon got his flu shot every year and drank tons of water and washed his hands nearly every hour. There was no chance he was sick. Not in a million years.

So he dragged his perfectly healthy body out of bed and shuffled to the window to see what mess he was going to have to clean up this time.

Archie waved to Simon through the window as he approached, so at least it didn’t seem to be a life-threatening injury right off the bat. Still, there was blood staining his teeth, slowly streaming from his nose and down to his chin. 

The sight of it made Simon’s stomach lurch. It wasn’t the sight that bothered him, he was used to that, but the thought of having to taste all that blood. He wondered if Archie’s tastebuds were also enhanced like the rest of his senses. He hoped not.

He hooked his fingers under the window and pulled it up, allowing Archie to stumble in. 

“Long time no see. Can't tell if thats a good or bad thing,” Simon quipped, catching Archie by the arm before he could faceplant on the cool tile.

“Awww somebody missed me~” Archie chirped, voice audibly a bit more nasal than usual. He straightened and allowed himself to be led to sit at the kitchen table.

Simon playfully rolled his eyes, though the action made him decidedly more nauseous and he stopped. He swallowed. 

“Yeah, sure. Just tell me what I’m working with here,” He motioned in Archie's general direction.

“Nothing too bad! I think I broke my nose, maybe a rib, and definitely sprained my ankle,” He listed. They had done this dance countless of times, and considering the states Archie had come to Simon in in the past, this really wasn’t too bad.

Simon pulled on his gloves. “Alright, let me take a look.”

Simon gently tilted Archie's head back. A lot of blood had already dried on his lips and chin, but there was still a decently steady stream of fresh blood dripping out. Again, the sight of it wasn’t what bothered Simon, but this time it was the smell.

It was metallic and overpowering and it was right in front of Simon's face. It was far from the worst thing he had smelled by a long shot, but it was enough to bring his queasiness up a few notches. He turned away, giving himself a few seconds to regain his composure.

Still, he knew he wasn’t sick. He must have eaten something weird or maybe he hadn't eaten enough. Sure, he had been feeling sort of run down and chilled all day, but that could be chalked up to stress, not illness. That much he was sure of.

He steeled himself and applied gentle pressure to the bleeding appendage. 

“It’s not broken,” He said, handing Archie some napkins to plug the flow of blood. He got up to change his gloves, silently grateful to be away from the coppery smell for a moment. “You just gave yourself a nasty nosebleed.”

“Oh sweet! I was honestly a little scared that I had--” Archie paused. “Simon? You okay? You look a little.. pale.”

“I’m fine. Just tired. Let’s check your ribs.” Simon said quickly, swallowing convulsively and standing. “Lay on the table.”

Archie lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing. He winced as he got up and sat on the wooden table, hissing as he lowered himself down.

Simon began palpating his side, applying gentle pressure. Simon’s fingers caught the lower left rib and it shifted with a grotesque scraping sensation, earning a yelp from Archie. Simon blanched.

“Yeah, definitely seems uh..” He swallowed again. “It’s a light fracture. Just ice it.”

Simon shut his eyes. Again, usually none of this stuff bothered him, but the feeling of Archie’s bones grinding against eachother beneath his finger was a sensation he felt in his teeth, and, consequently, his stomach. 

Evidently, his body had enough.

“Simon, are you sure you're--”

Archie was cut off by Simon suddenly sitting as straight as a rod, lips clamped together, sweat beading on his brow. There was a beat of silence in which Simon ran through every possible way to avoid what he knew was about to happen, but it was too late. Archie opened his mouth to speak again, but didn't get a chance before Simon bolted to the bathroom.

He unceremoniously crashed to his knees in front of the toilet just as he began to retch.

“Shit!” Archie staggered up from the table, limping as fast as he could to the hallway. Stupid ankle!

As he rounded the corner, he let out a sympathetic gasp at what he saw. Courtesy of Simon forgetting to close the door behind him, he was able to see him clinging weakly to the rim of the toilet, panting in between bouts of nausea. Sweat was dripping down his brow, and Archie could finally see how green around the gills he really was.

“Oh Simon..” He cooed, hobbling over to kneel next to him. He placed a hand between Simon’s shoulder blades and rubbed gently up and down. “ It’s okay.. Just get it out..”

Simon’s body tensed as he shoved his head back down into the bowl and gagged unproductively. He was silently grateful for Archie rubbing his back, as it gave him a sensation to focus on other than his stomach trying to turn itself inside out. He let out a low whine.

“I know, I know..” Archie used his free hand to simultaneously push Simon’s hair back from his forehead and check for a fever. He frowned. “You’re burning. Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

Simon screwed his eyes shut as he finally pulled away from the toilet bowl, collapsing into the wall. “Not.. sick..”

“... Come again?”

“Don’t.. don’t need.. m'not sick..” He breathed, but it came out as more of a whine, and Archie couldn’t help but snort.

“I need get that on video. I’ll play it anytime you tell me I’m being ridiculous,” He laughed, gently running a hand through Simon’s sweaty locks. He ignored Simon's absurd denial. “Let’s get you in bed.. you think you’re done?” 

Simon kept his eyes shut as he nodded, knowing that if he looked at his mess, it'd just start up again. Archie leaned over to flush the toilet for him and took a bit of toilet paper to clean his chin. The act was so small and so tender that Simon found his eyes welling up with tears. He blamed the fever.

It took some maneuvering, considering both of their states, but Archie eventually got Simon into bed, and tucked in, once he saw begin to shiver. He placed a small trashcan beside the bed, just in case.

“You should.. should get in bed..” Simon murmured weakly. “Rest your ankle..”

Archie giggled. “You’re just saying that because you want a warm body to latch onto.”

Simon hummed noncommittally.

Still, Archie wasted no time changing out of his Vigil jumpsuit and into some of Simon’s clothes before cleaning his face of blood and slipping beneath the covers, next to Simon.

As predicted, Simon sidled right up to Archie and buried his face in his neck, inhaling the familar scent.

Archie smiled. Though it rarely happened, without fail, Simon became a complete cuddlebug when he was sick, and Archie was absolutely soaking it in.

He drew Simon close to his chest, and ran a hand through his hair. He used his other hand to rub wide circles across Simon’s warm back, and it wasn’t long before Simon visibly relaxed under his touch. 

Simon wasn’t used to being in this role, but was hardly complaining. It felt kind of nice to be doted on. He lazily threw an arm across Archie’s chest and pressed himself closer.

"Maybe.. I'm a little sick.." He slurred, already halfway to dream land.

Archie's chest vibrated with a soft laugh as he carded a hand through the dark locks rhythmically.

The two drifted off, tangled in eachothers arms, with the silent promise to deal with their respective ailments in the morning. For now, they slept.

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