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blessedbygookim · 5 hours

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The Queen Of Busan.

Part one: the meeting.

Part two: defeated.

Part three: forgiveness.

Here it is, the final part. I prolonged this for so long it’s unbelievable. I hope it’s good enough. 🫶🏻

Just an FYI, the quote at the end is an existing one, I felt like it fit into the story.

Three whole years have passed since then.

They're both nineteen now, going on twenty.

Three sets of summers, winters, springs and falls, and since then many things have happened.

They got trained by Tom Lee, getting stronger than they were before. The Four Crews were up and running. Big Deal is still under Jake Kim's excellent leadership, the Workers are led by Eugene, Hostel by Eli Jang, and the one and only God Dog, Johan Seong.

In the meantime both Gun and Goo did their own things on the sidelines. Goo collecting Secret Friends, and Gun finding a potential successor, aka Daniel Park.

One thing still hasn't changed. Since everything that has perspired with Nova three years ago in Busan, they haven't stepped a foot in the city ever since.

As several years go by, Gun, though he has grown in strength and ability, still feels that lingering sense of fear at the thought of being overpowered so easily and utterly. Every now and then, his mind drifts back to that day... wondering how she is doing.

Not for the sole reason that he cares oh so much about anyone else other than himself, he was just...curious.

He was doing well for himself now, but the memory still lingered... no, it gnawed at him. He felt like him calling himself the greatest and strongest was nothing now but a painful mockery of him trying to mask the undeniable truth with delusions.

Also, the act of seeking vengeance lingered on his mind.

Lingered, but never solidified.

Why should he...? Would the outcome be different? He did get stronger, so did Joongoo since they have fought in the meantime but... it still wasn't something he was willing to fuck around with and find out.

More so because deep down he knows it would be futile.

Since logically speaking; if they themselves got stronger, who's to say something along those lines hasn't happened to her? If she was so strong three years ago, who knows what kind of power she has transcended above since then? It was a little gut wrenching.

But that's not the only thing that makes it gut wrenching for him. The fact that the both of them still fear her so much even though they're so much stronger, that feeling of dread is what really gets him.

It was almost embarrassing how much they feared her.

Scratch that, it is embarassing.

How powerless and small they felt in her presence. Even if they had grown, it didn't mean much when they didn't know just how much stronger she may have become.

Goo still has that piece of blade, still stained with her dried blood on the surface. He didn't know why he kept it, perhaps because it held his biggest insecurity, a secret of their defeat, the only proof of that night.

An additional scar Gun has gained on his back, a long scar right across his spine, which he would rather have than have gotten his eyes plucked out. And, a scar of a once gaping hole right below Goo's collar bone, tainting his once pristine skin.

"I wonder if we should be ballsy enough to seek revenge in the near future..."

Goo ponders out loud as he lays on his luxury couch, counting the bills of the vast sum of money they have collected today, while Gun is smoking a cigarette a few feet away.

He lets out a bitter scoff at his comment, a bitter scoff that's quickly followed by an equally if not more bitter sounding chuckle, that has an almost ironic undertone. He shakes his head at the idea, the thought that they would attempt to get revenge on her being almost laughable to him.

“That woman is a freak of nature. We'd be lucky to get out with our lives... if we didn't end up maimed."

"Yeah... probably..."

Goo responds, letting out a sigh as he stuffs a good amount of bills into his Supreme bill gun.

"How about this? If you're that hellbent on getting revenge, why don't you be the first one to go seek her out? I'll watch from a safe distance... maybe I'll even film some of it to put on Youtube."

As Gun spoke that last sentence, a subtle but malicious chuckle could be heard in his voice, a clear note of mockery and humor present in the way he spoke.

"You're so funny."

Goo deadpans with a roll of his eyes, pulling the trigger of the bill gun. Even the 10000 worth of korean won bills can't suppress his inner turmoil at the moment, which said a lot since he came to love money so much.

"Mhm, yeah, just like I thought."

Gun chuckles again, his eyes narrowing slightly as he gazes at his friend with an amused glint in his eyes.

"Still pissing your pants over that girl from three years ago, huh? Damn. You're a coward."

"Oh fuck you, that's so hypocritical coming from someone who feels the same way!"

He throws back immediately, eyebrows furrowed together in annoyance.

Until his head falls back against the armrest of the couch, a sigh leaving his lips.

"...do you think she also thinks about us till this day?.. I did leave her a pretty hefty stab wound all those years ago..."

Gun can't help but chuckle once again at his comment, a slight malicious glint appearing in his eyes.

"Oh, really? You think she would care about some tiny flesh wound you gave her, that she didn't even bat an eye at? If anything, I bet she doesn't even remember us. You think she'd remember a couple of weaklings she beat in only a minute?"

"This is the first time I'm hearing you call yourself weak in a good while..."

Goo chuckles a little, gathering the bills off of his body.

"She really did shake off a blade piercing right through her... and walked more into it...and stabbed through my body with her own hand... it still haunts me in my dreams."

Goo ponders as he recalls the events, his arm falling beside him off the couch with the bill gun.

"...I feel so pathetic every time I look back on that night. We were utterly defeated. Completely overwhelmed. And then she had the audacity to offer us mercy. It makes my blood burn just thinking about it. Such a pity, such a kindness, aimed at such weak people who couldn't even beat her."

Gun's eyes narrow as he thinks more and more about that night, as the memory continues to flood in and torment him.

Meanwhile the blonde aims his bill gun his way and shoots some bills towards his companion.

"But if you really think about it and put your narcissism aside, she really just defended what she has built up. She was overprotective, and of course didn't let bastards like us take that away from her."

When the bills came flying at him, Gun didn't even look at them as they bounced off his chest and fell onto the floor. He was more focused on Goo, and the way he was attempting to defend that psychopath.

"Defend? You really think she was 'defending'? That was nothing more than a show of domination. Overprotective? Please. Her strength and power is something that should be considered illegal. The fact she had the nerve to offer us mercy afterwards, like we were some pitiful creatures that could be easily squashed, it makes my blood boil when I think of it. Who the hell does she think she is, being so damn generous?"

Gun continues to scoff and chuckle bitterly as he continues to smoke his cigarette, taking slow, deliberate puffs and exhales.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, White Ghost. If you weren't so emotionally detached you would understand her point of view. I do as well even though it's embarrassing to think back to how easily she handled us..."

Goo retorts with an exasperated tone, accidentally dropping the bill gun on his face.

"Ouch..."

"Do you think if she has since found it in her heart to forgive us...? Because if you think about it logically, we just did what Charles instructed us to do without another thought."

Goo suggests, another slight shrug of his shoulders, lips pursed, rubbing his forehead where the gun hit him.

"Forgive us? Hmph, fat chance. Even if she claims to forgive us or whatever bullshit she spouts, she's probably just saying that so we can live in a constant state of paranoia."

Gun pauses, taking another drag from his cigarette.

"I don't know if we should be bold enough to fuck around and find out though..."

Goo mutters out, tossing the bill gun away.

"We've both grown so much since that day, but there's no telling what kind of evolution she went through in the past three years. Last thing I want to do is bring that kind of trauma back upon myself...then again I can't help but be curious."

"Yeah, I agree with you there. Even if we've grown, there's still no damn way to know how strong she could have become, especially with that unnatural durability of hers. I can't believe she humiliated us when I have my Ultra Instinct..."

As he talks, Gun takes yet another drag from his cigarette.

"Do you think me still keeping that blade brings some sort of bad omen to us?"

Goo throws out another question, tearing Gun away from his spiraling train of thoughts.

They have to do something about the trauma and the fear of that whole encounter, if they can't let go of it in any other way, they have to do SOMETHING. Goo can't help himself but wholeheartedly believe it is some sort of bad charm, still having kept that blade of his.

Gun hesitates for a moment before answering, his expression becoming slightly confused, he wasn't one to believe in such things.

Yet-

"Honestly... it sounds stupid, but yeah. It probably does. I mean, just because it's a blade doesn't necessarily mean it's bad luck, but still... the fact that neither of us threw that blade away kind of gives me a bad feeling. It's like a constant physical reminder of that day, like a curse."

He responds back to Goo's question, this was what he had in mind already.

"I think the first step we need to take to get over this and move on from it is to get rid of the blade."

"...but it's a titanium wielded blade..."

Goo pouts once again.

Of course that is his biggest concern.

"Even if we destroy it, both yours and my scar will remain, and so will her pure existence... and who says we won't run into her? She's all over the country anyway, all the time..."

He reasons.

"Yeah, you're right. Even if we destroy the blade, scars don't go away so easily, and the trauma still remains. And the chances of us running into her are very high, too high for my liking..."

Gun sighs out as well, he's growing frustrated at the difficult situation they find themselves in. No matter how hard they try it seems that they'll never be able to forget this memory of her.

"How about this?.."

Goo the blonde exclaims softly, it was like a visible lightbulb went off above his head.

"We stop being pussies, we throw our ego aside, and seek her out to apologize to her face to face."

Silence.

Gun, his face contorts into pure confusion and, disgust.

Goo on the other hand, looks like someone who just invented something miraculos, like water powered engines.

By the slight twitch of Gun's eye, the blonde standing like Superman almost also ended up like said guy who came up with said invention if he didn’t restrain himself.

Erased from the face of the Earth.

"What?.. Are you insane? That has to be the dumbest idea you've ever had in your life. And you have a lot of dumb ideas."

Gun retorts finally, his brow knits together as he stares at Goo with an expression that's a mixture of shock and disbelief. He can't believe the very idea of seeking out Nova, especially doing so to apologize faces-to-face is even being suggested.

Who does this guy think he is?

"Do you seriously think she'd accept our apologies? You really think she'd just forgive us and move on? That sounds like an absolutely moronic idea."

"...at least we can attempt to do so... forgiveness is up to her to be honest..."

Goo shrugs again, voice softening a little as his posture softens with it.

"...and maybe if it works out well, we can gradually start moving on as well."

Now, Gun really had to think this through.

Gamble a little, in ways it would benefit him.

"Tch.... Fine, if you say so. We better hope that she'll listen to us when we try to apologize. I sincerely hope this idea of yours is worth our time..."

Gun relents, knowing that Goo can be quite persuasive at times anyway. He's still highly skeptical, but he trusts Goo and knows that he means well.

If it benefits himself as well of course.

"Alright..."

Goo utters out, falling back on the couch.

"Should we just then... travel to Busan first thing tomorrow and look for her in that same restaurant we met her all those years ago...?"

Gun nods, although still wary about the whole idea.

"Yeah, that's probably the best course of action. Let's take the first flight to Busan tomorrow and see if we can find her. If we're lucky, she might even be in that same restaurant we met her in all those years ago."

He pauses for a moment before continuing, an annoyed look on his face.

"But if it turns out your idea was shit, I will bury you somewhere.."

Tomorrow came faster than usual, perhaps to both their dismay. Neither of the really slept too much, the anxiety was keeping them up wide awake.

"My anxiety is so bad, I couldn't stop taking a shit every hour or so this morning..."

Goo and his usual TMI, accompanied by a huge yawn.

Gun rolls his eyes in annoyance at his excessive information about his bodily functions.

Why did he need to know that.

"Gross. Do you really need to share all that with me? I don't want to hear the details of your bathroom business."

His tone of voice is stern and serious, but the way he speaks suggests that he's not completely mad at him. He's actually a little bit amused by his friend's carefree nature, but he'd never admit it.

He also didn't understand why Joongoo had to wear such an obnoxious looking designer outfit either.

Proof that money can't buy style and taste.

He himself is still wearing the same old black outfit he is usually seen with, the man is nothing if not very consistent. He stares at the blonde's outfit for a bit...

Tacky.

Draws hell of a lot attention to themselves. More than Gun would like.

At first he doesn't say anything while walking down the street.

This man looks like he's going to a fashion show for rich people or something.

Then, he looks at Goo again and decides to break the silence.

"Are you seriously going through this whole ordeal wearing those gaudy clothes?"

He shakes his head in disbelief, his eyes scanning his flashy outfit.

"You look like a walking advertisement for bad taste, you know that?"

"I don't remember asking for your opinion!"

Goo retorts in a childish manner, the same verbal skirmish they usually engage in.

"Also, I need to look good just in case she kills us today. I refuse to die looking raggedy."

"Pfft, as if looking good is gonna save us from death...If she wants us dead, we're dead. And honestly, you'd still look pretty damn raggedy wearing those flashy clothes. They don't exactly scream 'good taste' to me."

"You just have zero taste!"

"Thank God, then."

Not long after arriving at the front of that same restaurant, and the same spot they got their asses whopped all those years ago is nothing more than haunting.

"I think I'm gonna shit myself..."

Goo mutters out with an uncomfortable scowl, earning a disgusted look from his partner.

"What the fuck."

"God, you're ridiculous. How old are you again?"

He mutters under his breath the same time as a loud, nervous gulp coming from his friend.

"Look, let's just get this over with. The faster we apologize, the faster we can get out of here. Even if it doesn't go well, at least we tried."

"... I think Imma throw up..."

Goo responds with some fake gagging noises, being overdramatic as usual.

Gun can't help but to roll his white irises under the sunglasses, and takes a firm hold of Goo's upper arm to drag him into the reception area of the restaurant.

Safe to say the receptionist recognized them in a heartbeat.

Who couldn't?

He gives them a double-take, then a triple take-

There is no such thing as a calm, peaceful day in the life of someone working such field.

Well, this is what he gets paid for so.. he just lets out a sigh.

He already knew what they wanted, they didn't even have to say anything. So, he leads them direrctly to her.

Of course she'd be here today of all days, it was almost like she knew they'd come.

"I think I just shit my pants..."

Comes the uncomfortable sounding mutter from the blonde, and Gun only rolls his eyes again.

What is it with him and his bowel movements today..

"Would you shut up? It's gonna be fine, stop worrying so much. At least wait until we actually speak to her first before you start shitting yourself."

Gun mutters back, equally as uncomfortable but trying to maintain his usual demeanor.

"You're not helping..."

Goo speaks from behind him again, sucking his teeth as they keep walking.

He didn't even bother to utter a response to that this time.

Arriving shortly after at that same table, they both stand with their backs straight. Everything feels the same as of yet, except that they could now feel her overwhelming presence from practically a few feet away, the waiter blocking their view as he talks to her, but they couldn't hear the conversation from the position they were standing in. Gun has an expression of neutrality right now, he refuses to acknowledge the tension and anxiety he's feeling deep down, he's trying to act as calm as he can right now, not like Goo who looked as pale as a ghost as they stood, waiting.

Once the man takes his leave, their brains shut down.

Not even going into just power saving mode, but turns off instead momentarily.

Is it because of how poised she looks?

A simple designer dress suited for the summer weather, heels on. Hair longer, face mixed with soft and sharp features, blended together perfectly. Tattoos adorning her skin, like her cleavage area and neck, different Japanese words, koi fishes and sakura flowers, black and red ink mostly. She sure has matured a lot, just like them.

Grey eyes as fierce as ever if not more when they both make eye contact with her.

The way she sat there was... humbling.

Like an actual Queen.

A ruler. Blessed.

Strong. Confident. Independent.

They feel...small.

Insignificant.

And she's just sitting there, radiating power and authority from every inch of her being.

"Sit down."

Finally, they're brought out from their reverie by her tone.

She sounded just the same... except a little deeper with a slight rasp, but it just made it all the more intimidating.

They can't shake the feeling that it sounded more like a command than an actual plea.

They almost involuntarily swallowed a lump in their throats before finally taking the first few steps, their eyes never leaving her figure as they move closer.

Gun, slowly walks up to her before stopping right beside her table, Goo following in a timid manner like a puppy.

"I... wanted go talk to you."

"He means we would like to speak with you... if you're okay with that-or we can just fuck off right away-!"

Goo begins, starting out with a pretty decent self assurance, but the more he yapped the more it kept going down the drain. Gun shoots Goo a glance that screams 'I will rip you a new one right here and right now if you don't shut up'. Goo doesn't take the hint and ends up being interrupted by her yet again, which really pisses Gun off.

"I said sit down."

This time, her tone is a bit sharper, and she's havig a harder time keeping her patience grounded.

It's safe to say Gun is visibly annoyed with his partner for making the situation even more awkward and bizarre than it already is. He was tempted to kick the blonde in the shins, but he resists the urge because he's trying to keep his cool right now.

At this point, he just decides to keep his mouth shut and take a seat, crossing his arms in front of his chest as Nova addresses the both of them again.

"Why are you here?"

Flat, unamused.

It's as if her having to even ask that question was bothersome and a waste of her time.

For a moment, they don't really make eye contact with her, refusing to meet her piercing gaze, since hers don't falter even for a moment.

It's almost af if they're a mere pawn in her presence. A small, fragile thing in the face of her strenght and dignity.

Gun, opens his mouth to speak.

Yet, his brain feels like it is filled with static, and he's absentmindedly clutcing against his own trousers by his thighs under the table.

For the first time in a while, he feels intimidated.

What feels like an eternity, he gulps, his voice coming out strained and hoarse.

"W-we know it's been a long time since we have seen each other. And what we did back then was completely unacceptable. We acted like ignorant, self-entitled assholes and we didn't think about how you must have felt."

He pauses to take a deep breath, looking at her in the eyes as he continues speaking, words coming out through gritted teeth.

"We would like to ask for your forgiveness."

There it was.

He said it, and feels like throwing up that second in his mouth.

The plea for such was a foreign concept to him. It tasted bitter and spikey in his mouth, almost like lemon.

The words echo out in the silence that follows, and Gun can feel the weight of them like a physical burden. It's as if he's just ripped our his soul and thrown it out in front of her, exposed and vulnerable.

Goo, beside him, looks as if he's about to faint at any moment. There's sweat beading on his forehead, and his face has gone completely pale, like he's just seen a ghost.

It was so embarrassing.

"Ask for forgiveness, huh?..”

She repeats his words, more as a mutter as her smile pulls at one corner of her lips momentarily, looking out of the window beside her, so very amused.

"I'm not God, who could cleanse you of each and every of your sins, be it ones you tainted my life with, or others'. This isn't the right place for such."

Her words flow bluntly, and with a certain tone of assertiveness.

"I wouldn't have expected the two of you to feel any sort of remorse for what had happened three years ago, since neither of you hesitated to try and break my wings, and confiscate them for yourselves. It makes me wonder... are you two really apologizing from the goodness of your hearts and done some self reflection, or just feel uncomfortable about the fact that both of you have been taken down with ease?"

Each word carries a weight that makes both of their stomachs churn, like a twisted dagger being jammed into their gut and slowly twisted.

Essentially, she's calling them out for being selfish narcissists.

It was as if she's reaching into their souls and holding up a mirror to themselves, a reflection of their own ugly, selfish nature.

Gun's gaze turns a bit confused, his expression shifting from neutral to taken aback slightly.

"You have every right to doubt us... But we are being sincere. We have... reflected on our actions, and came to realize just how awful we've been to you. It's no excuse, nor does it undo what we did."

"That's correct. It's a shame your actions are as bland as your personalities."

She lets out a bitter scoff, cutting into the chocolate cake placed by before her.

"If bravery had a face, it certainly wouldn't look like either of yours' right now. "

She points at both of them through muttered words with her fork, chewing on the sugary pastry with.

That... was definitely not on their bingo cards right now.

Not so much of the answer, but the bluntness wrapped around with venom her words carried.

Goo, looks completely taken aback. Looking around for a moment as if in a search for her audacity, while Gun just looks annoyed.

"Our... actions are bland..?"

He clenches his jaw, now feeeling irritated.

"The fact that we are sitting here right now, apologizing to you is because we have the balls to do it. You have no idea how hard this is for us."

"Oh look at the two of you, attempting greatness..."

Her hands fly up gently in feigned shock and surprise, tone flat but laced with the thick undertone of sarcasm.

A second after, her hands fall to her side.

"Pity it's just an attempt. If ignorance was a virtue, you'd both be saints by now."

Keeps it plain as ever, tone emotionless as she goes back to her dessert.

"How about this? Let's operate with sense. It is clear neither of you have much, so we will use my own, okay?"

Hostility.

Gun can barely restrain himself, he looks like he's about to pop a blood vessel in his forehead.

Goo? Oh he has now, just checked out, he knows this is just a battle he cannot win.

"You.. since when do you talk to people like that? Do you have any idea how disrespectful you're being right now??"

His tone is terse, absolutely floored by what he's hearing.

It isn't more so of what she's saying, though safe to say her wit is unmatched.. it's just how she's talking to them.

And Gun, ain't nobody can talk to him such way.

Never could, never will.

"You have no right to talk to us like that, you hear me? You're being disrespectful, and you need to shut your damn mouth before I shut it for you."

The threat slips out before he can stop himself, his anger getting the better of him.

“Watch your tone when you're talking to me.”

And Gun, he freezes.

He, has never heard such authoritative words in his life.

Ever.

It cut through all his senses. Practically rumbled like the a stormy night sky.

That moment, he felt like he was standing before a temple.

Tall, resilient, and gorgeous.

And he was once again, floored.

It's like a bucket of ice cold water being dumped on his head, and suddenly he's realizing just how far over the line he's gone, and he immediately sits up right.

“…did I just straighten myself??”

The blonde next to him, he just zeroes out completely, yet cannot help the chills that fill his body under his clothes.

“You wanna talk about disrespect..?”

She asks, tone flat, gaze heavy.

They can feel their chests tighten, her larger than life presence commanding their full attention even when they can't bring themselves to look up at her.

“I've met scarecrows with more spine than you. Your with is as sharp as a butter knife, and watching the two of you trying to have an argument with me is like witnessing a dance of clumsiness and confusion. I have seen more formidable foes in a toddler's tantrum. Why is it so hard to realize that you two trying to keep communicating your feelings on the ridiculous of the endeavor I'm currently engaged in is nothing but futile?”

As she speaks, she keeps looking between the two like she was talking to two kids.

“Disrespect, eh? Who was the one again who went against my plea of leaving the city alone in the first place and never coming back? You two are the perfect example of how nature experiments with mistakes.”

That went so fucking hard.

Goo just cannot help himself, the surprised scoff of laughter erupts from his lips without any warning, quickly smacking his hand over his mouth.

Gun on the other hand, takes his sunglasses down with a quickness, eyes wide and in disbelief of what he's hearing.

Where is all this hostility coming from?

They cannot help but just stare at her in confusion, Goo's eyes involuntarily twitching through a pained smile.

"What the hell is your problem...”

Gun asks quietly, his voice low, and visibly taken aback.

Nova, just counts to 8, letting out a long sigh while doing so.

“A moment of silence, please, for these poor souls' intelligence... do you not get what I'm saying? An apology isn't needed because I really couldn't give less fucks right now about what happened in the past, and could you please tell your friend here to calm down a little? If he were to be any less threatening right now, he'd be a dandelion.”

The last part was mainly aimed towards Goo, who begins to blink quickly to try and calm his nerves. Not because he was angry, but embarrassed since he lacked the brains to come up with such lines. He was a little jealous, and annoyed he liked her even more now.

After a moment, Gun turns to give Goo a glance. He's able to tell that he's clearly embarrassed and annoyed by the whole situation, and he can't help but share the same feeling himself.

"Wow... we got our asses handed to us again, and we didn't even have to fight."

Goo thinks to himself, visibly zoned out now, while looking at nothing at particular on the table.

Gun knew that coming here was useless, and he turned out to be more than right. The embarrassment he felt was more than bearable.

He takes a deep breath, trying to keep his frustration under control. He knows that they came here expecting a completely different situation than this, and now they're just being talked down to like a bunch of teenagers.

It's not doing good things for his ego, that's for sure.

He looks back at Nova, trying to keep his tone neutral as he speaks again.

"So you don't want an apology, and you don't care about the past. What do you want then? What do we do to make it up to you?"

“Y'all want forgiveness? Fine, you're forgiven. You could both leave now, unless you would want to engage in a fight again, which would be more than just an anticlimax. Your skills are on par with a blindfolded chicken playing hopscotch, and there's no fun in that.”

Both of them remain silent as she continues to speak. Gun can practically feel the blood boiling within his veins, his irritation building up to unbearable levels, while Goo just looks completely defeated. He's already given up the moment she started speaking down to them again.

It's almost comical to watch her just repeatedly and ruthlessly humiliate them, using their own ignorance against them.

Their current situation was nothing more than absolutely diabolical. If it wasn't enough that they couldn't outsmart her during their previous fight, apparently the same could be said about actual smarts.

This woman was too smart for her own good, and their own. The whole time, her tone was razor sharp, blunt and to the point with a gaze most people would shy away from in just a second.

Then again, they both have eyes, and common sense, as much as they lacked of using it being so in the heat of the moment, they could both now notice clearly.

This wasn't the calm, collected, and kind person she once was. Her presence was nothing short of being on edge, tense as all hell, and an undeniable presence of fatigue in her eyes that neither of them could ignore.

Her entire demeanor has become almost cold and distant, her behavior almost the opposite of what she was years ago. There's a hint of melancholy as well, hidden within the sharpness of her silver eyes.

She changed completely.

Despite themselves, their gazes can't help but shift from her face to the tired look in her eyes. It's just so different from how she used to be, that it actually makes them feel a small pang of guilt in their chests.

Well, as much as they’re competent enough to do so.

"We're sorry."

Goo's apology comes out softer than intended, and with a swiftness that even caught Gun off guard.

He didn't understand, since they had already done their due diligence of apologizing, but he tried his best to trust his partner's judgment, letting him continue.

"We shouldn't have come... it's clear as day we disturbed your mental state even more with our presence and over the top behavior. You seem like you already have enough on your plate, we didn't want to add more into that."

Nova's expression shifts to a softer, more tired look as she listens to Goo speak. But then, confusion laces her features, a small frown appearing on her face.

“You have no idea what you're talking about or how I'm feeling. Stop trying to act like we're friends, I don't need you to feel bad for me either.”

Self defense. It was purely that.

Her tone might have been annoyed and distant, but the way her hand twitched, it was more than obvious they struck a cord in her.

From that, Gun can tell that Goo's words have somehow affected her. Maybe he was right, and it bothered her more than she's letting on.

He glances at Goo, giving him a subtle nod to signal him to continuе. Не wants to see if they can get through to her, even just a little bit.

"We would just like to get a small hint into why you're acting and feeling the way you are... a lot had to happen in the three years since we last met..."

Goo continues, almost surprised at how nice he's being all of a sudden.

There is a hint of discomfort in her eyes once she looks back at him. So desperate to try and shield her fury of emotions away, afraid to be vulnerable.

She lets out a sigh, putting her purse in her lap and rummage through it, popping a cigarette between her lips.

“I don't need a therapy session. Especially not by two wonder brats...”

Her exterior hardens once more, lighting her cigarette, and taking a long drag.

Gun leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and giving her a steady gaze, trying to keep his annoyance under check. He keeps his tone even as he speaks.

"Maybe you don't need a therapy session, but we're just trying to understand. You've changed, and we want to know why."

“I don't think I owe you any manners or any explanation.”

She grumbles, letting the smoke flow from her lips, and blowing it out.

It's like she's intentionally being difficult just to piss him off.

He leans forward slightly, his gaze hardening as he speaks, his voice laced with a hint of anger.

"You don't owe us anything, that's true. But can't you just... try to talk to us? We're not trying to be difficult here, we're just concerned."

“That's funny.”

She responds with an empty gaze, butting the ashes into her empty wine glass.

“What do you know about being the rag of other people's sorrow?”

There it is.

As she says that, the empty gaze never subsides, putting the cigarette between her lips, she takes another drag while never taking her eyes off of him.

It's like she's dropped a bombshell on him, and they don’t quite understand what she means by it.

He glances at Goo, seeing the same confusion reflected on his face, before looking back at her. He speaks again, his tone softer this time.

"What do you mean by that? What do you mean by 'being the rag of other people's sorrow'?"

Both of them look at her through narrowed eyes, both of their gazes sharp and analyzing as they observe her behavior. She's clearly trying to brush off what they just found out, but it's not working very well.

“I’ve had enough of it.”

She starts out, propping her elbow on the table, eyes visibly softening as she rather stares out the window than to look at them.

“Being kind and all.”

Her eyes may have softened, but there's still a slight undertone of hostility in her voice.

Meanwhile, Goo can tell that she's feeling uncomfortable having those emotions being brought up again, and his expression softens, a hint of sympathy present beneath the concerned frown on his face.

“I wanted to help. From the positivity, the gratitude, from how hopeful and supportive people were, knowing there was someone who was willing to help, and wanted nothing in return.... I was happy, because people were also happy, no matter the morbid nature of it all.”

Goo's expression softens even more as he hears her words, his sympathy growing stronger. Gun's gaze remains on her, his expression stoic but listening intently.

He speaks up again, his tone almost matter-of-factly.

"People took advantage of you, didn't they?"

A small sigh leaves her lips, watching the bustling city outside. The city she raised from the dust while she takes another drag.

“You share secrets under the moonlight; those secrets become weapons against you. You cry in the candlelight, yet your tears can never extinguish the fiery rage of betrayal; and after the last drop of love is squeezed dry from your heart, they toss away your husk of a soul.”

She continues, puffing out one last cloud of smoke as she puts her cigarette out.

“I began to absolutely loathe, detest, revile, denounce my existence with a passion like a furnace... especially when I started to enjoy hurting people more than when I did it out the goodness of my own heart, with the intention to help. Sure, I still did help, but it also momentarily helped me too, to fill that gaping soul in my chest after my patience and kindness had ran thin... I choked on such longing I couldn't spit out. Yes... desire is so different when God bore you hungry.”

Both of the guys listen to her in silent shock, absorbing her every word. Her description of her own experience, her feelings and pain, it's incredibly raw and vulnerable. It's clear that whatever she's been through has left deep scars on her soul.

Yet again, unfortunately it was something unavoidable.

Goo finally speaks up, his tone gentle as he responds to her.

"No wonder you’re so on edge but also seem…a lot more resilient now."

And he meant what he said.

No wonder her sharp eyes are more cutting now. Like she has a 360° vision, yet still..

She still seemed like someone who couldn’t find her place again despite her reflecting on herself.

“Well, my patience has ran thin, and people fail to understand why. I no longer find peace and happiness when helping others. I became indifferent to others' gratitude.”

Her tone now becomes indifferent.

Acceptance. No matter how much kindness you offer, some people will always be selfish and evil individuals.

“... I don't even know who I am anymore...”

Her words are more than enough to further add even more complexity to her feelings, but solidifies Goo’s theory.

She was not only tired, she was also deeply craving for something, some type of satisfaction or relief, the way her eyes almost seem to burn with this strange craving. She's like a starving animal, desperate for something to satisfy her, and desperate to find her purpose again.

“Sometimes I wonder... I'm not sure whether I'm a good person or not anymore... But I hope I am good enough to be loved and appreciated.”

The glimmer of hope that appears in her eyes could be described almost pitiful.

Pitiful, that she had to get here to question her whole existence, and purpose in life.

“I want to be more than my ears...and the arms that offer comfort. More than my power and abilities...To be loved unreasonably, rather than for the fact that I listen when the rest of the world goes quiet, or throwing myself into pits of the danger and despair. I chose this life, I'm well aware... but it matters not how selfless you are when people would still rather continue to take more and more of you.”

Her words start to have a profound impact in both of them. An individual who has given and given, and only recently realized that she has given a bit too much to get nothing in return.

And the pain and longing in her eyes... both of them can see it clearly, and it seems to only get even more intense as she speaks. The depth of her feelings is almost palpable, and it's clear that she's been holding it in for a long time.

“I keep convincing myself I do not mind being the rag of other people's sorrow... Yet I find I am no longer durable, sinking in the mix of theirs and my grief. A source of therapeutic conversations, yet never unplanned ones. Talk to a friend, a real friend who truly knows my aspirations rather than my soothing words. Who truly knows the stones that fill my chest as I devour their rocks. Then them bubbling into a foam after a while, ceasing to exist in their minds."

She lets out a long sigh, playing with the dessert fork she has not long ago put down absentmindedly, and puts her cigarette out.

“Who am I if not threaded cloth, a person who heals while avoiding healing herself... As I remember the tears absorbed by an overgrown mold, consuming me till I am nothing more but a manmade stream, who flows towards an unfamiliar rage.”

This time, her tone is more strained, doing her damned best to stop the wave of emotions trying to break free and roll of her tongue, eyes unfocusing into nothing particular.

“What was I made for?.. Or rather am I made for something beyond inherited love. Something beyond the power I hold and the actions I take. If I really am slowly becoming what I try so hard to cleanse the world from? Can I be loved without being convenient?..”

And she whispers the last part, turning to them, catching despair flashing through her eyes.

“Even if I'm unsure whether I'm an actually good person to begin with?”

And both of them knew, in that moment, that they couldn't really give an answer to her.

Unfortunately, neither of them could understand that level of sacrifice.

Slowly becoming the exact same thing she loathed the most and tried to get rid of.

“It's hard to make up an answer... isn't it?”

She asks softly, a bitter smile painted her lips as she keeps her eyes trained on them both.

“I understand. Every time I try to do so myself, it feels like chasing a shadow… whenever I get hold of it, it slips through my fingers, until I’m left with nothing again.”

Was there even a right answer to give?

Who's to say what she's feeling isn't just a reflection of others'? Or their perception?

Was there even a satisfying answer to give her?

They couldn't. They haven't walked even a minute in her shoes.

It was all a hard pill to swallow.

So much was said, so much was shared they felt like they were drowning in her maelstrom of emotions.

They could never understand that level of self sacrifice, that was bordering on self sabotage as well.

Neither of them has ever been in a situation like this before, where they couldn't find any words to say in the face of that level of vulnerability and pain. And it's a difficult realization to bear, knowing that their perspectives and experiences fall short of truly understanding what she's going through.

What more was there to even left to say? They came here to apologize, yet in the end, they got more than they bargained for.

Eventually, she lets out a long sigh.

“Before I go, thank you... for taking the time out of your days to come see me personally and apologize. I accept it... but regarding the two of you asking for forgiveness...”

The corners of her lips pull back slightly, sucking in her teeth as she places the fork down she unintentionally bent a little between her hands.

“You can't undo the pain you brought to others. In order to find peace in yourself and the situation, is to eventually forgive the cruelty that no longer resides within, and to accept the fact that they may always see that inhumanity in you... and it is in their every right to never forgive.”

Once she speaks again, they both can feel the meaning behind those words, and the gravity of what she's saying. They might have come here to apologize, but her response is more than well- earned.

She doesn't forgive them.

Gun and Goo both remain silent, their gazes respectfully cast down to the ground. They don't know what to say, but they can respect her decision.

Was that really it?

They still had so many unanswered questions left.

What's her backstory? How did she get so strong? What's her limit? What did she display back then?

Are they friends of allies? If not, will she seek vengeance against them once in the future?

Perhaps it's better to stay with curious sometimes. She's clearly in a vulnerable position, and would rather be elsewhere than here.

They both watch her slowly stand up, patting down her dress to flatten the wrinkles out, purse in one hand.

She hums softly, glancing at them both.

“But thank you. You made me realize it's time for me to re-evaluate my life decisions.”

A soft smile is the only thing she can give them, for now.

“And you two… take your own paths in life. Don’t let yourselves be used by others, even if it seems like there is no choice. There always is.”

She says softly, signing the bill after she pays.

“Regarding our fight and the defeat the two of you experienced..”

Her eyes sharpen slightly, a smile of someone like a Goddess paints her features, and they brace themselves.

“You have been praying so long for the strength to outlive the pain your past inflicted on you, that you have forgotten- you are already strong. That heart of yours was crafted from the same clay as that of Achilles, last true warrior on the sands of Troy, fighting a war that was years long. Do you think Achilles wept over the fates of the lesser warriors who tried and failed to slaughter him? Do you think you should lose sleep over the lesser people who tried to drown you in sorrow and hoped you couldn't swim? Listen to your heart. You have seen crueler battlefields than this. If you were so resilient through them, then you know in your heart, you will survive this.”

Now that.. was a speech.

“So long boys... we might meet again. Perhaps as foes or enemies, I'll let faith make that decision.”

And with that, they can only watch her retreating form, the clicking of her heels growing softer and softer, until she disappears from their vision.

Her words only further the impact, and both of them can't help but see their own journey and hers in a new light...

A star that has finally grown tired of burning up with no one to notice it... now preparing to transform into a collapsed, black hole, in the hopes of becoming something greater.

Everything that they learned, all of her feelings and confessions... the complexity of her circumstances and background, the way she spoke about her life, the pain that she's been through, the emotions that she's been keeping hidden and bottled up for her whole life...

They had gone into this meeting expecting a simple apology and an explanation. Instead, they had gotten much more than they bargained for. Her words had touched on something deeply profound, something that they were both still trying to fully understand.

Finally, Gun breaks the silence, his voice contemplative.

"That was... a lot to take in."

"Right... And I couldn't even confess to her."

Of course Jongoo comes with his usual idioticy, making Gun's head fall on the table, forehead down with a thud, letting out a loud sigh.

"Are you serious..? That's all you've got to say after all that?"

He lifts his head up and shoots Goo a sidelong glare, his eyes tired and incredulous.

"Well, as she said, we might meet again either way, so I'm still somewhat hopeful."

Gun lets out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head slightly.

"...I swear down on my nans grave, one day I will fold you up like a paper plane, and throw you into outer space."

"...you're so abusive."

“And you’re insufferable. A match made in hell.”

#lookism #lookism webtoon #comics #webtoon #gun park #goo kim #queen of busan #lookism fanfic #fanfic #kim joongoo #park jonggun

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dixons-sunshine · 2 years

Text

Freaks Ahoy! (Steve Harrington x fem!reader)

Summary: Steve "The Hair" Harrington never thought he'd fall for anyone again after Nancy, until he met the one girl that made him change his mind about that.

One tiny problem- her brother was non other than Eddie Munson.

Warnings: Mentions of drugs, fluff, slight angst (?), insecure Steve, Eddie being an overprotective big brother, Eddie being the best.

A/n: This doesn't directly follow the Stranger Things 3 or 4 plot. It's a mix between both, I guess, because Dustin and Mike are both already in Hellfire. I don't really know. I had this idea and I had to write it.

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"I'm completely and utterly hopeless," Steve Harrington said, startling the blonde who was wiping down the tables. Scoops Ahoy had just closed, leaving the two friends alone to clean up.

"Jeez, don't do that!" Robin exclaimed, throwing the rag she was previously using at the brunette, placing her hand over her heart purely for dramatic effect.

"Sorry," Steve said, grimacing at the rag covered in ice cream that was thrown at him.

"What did you mean by "I'm completely and utterly hopeless"?" Robin asked, moving to sit on one of the chairs that have yet been placed on the table.

Steve took a seat across from her, throwing his hands up in exclamation. "Just that. It's been, what, almost a full year since Nancy and I broke up, and I still haven't gone on one date, while she and Jonathan are living their best lives together!"

"You know you sound jealous, right? I thought you were over Nancy."

"I am. Really, I am. It's just... I don't know, it's stupid." Steve ran a hand over his face, closing his eyes and letting out a long, overdramatic sigh.

Robin furrowed her eyebrows, examining the brunette in front of her. Sure, she loved making fun of his inability to talk to people of the fairer sex, but this didn't seem like the time to do so.

"Talk to me, Steve. I'm sure it's not stupid," Robin said, leaning foward in her chair.

Steve sighed. "You know how people say that if your relationship doesn't work out, it's because there's someone better for you out there?" Robin nodded, "well, I can't help but feel that I'm never gonna find somebody better than Nancy. She was my first ever stable relationship, my first love. And with all my pathetic excuses for relationships since then, I'm guessing that the universe is making fun of me for not being better in our relationship."

Robin immediately got up to embrace Steve. Steve was shocked; Robin was never really physical in their friendship, so this was new for him, but not entirely unwelcome. He didn't know that he needed a hug in that moment before the blonde embraced him.

"Don't ever say that shit again," Robin began, allowing the brunette to bury his face into her neck, "what happened with Nancy wasn't your fault at all. I don't know the whole story behind that, but I'm pretty sure that cheating doesn't justify anything you may or may not have done."

"That's the thing," Steve began, "I can't really be mad at her for that, though. I could see that she liked Jonathan. Should've ended the relationship before it progressed to that. I guess she felt stuck in the relationship and had to find an out. Can't blame her, because I wouldn't want to be with me either."

Robin pulled away from the embrace, opting to crouch in front of him instead. "Hey, you know that making fun of you is my favourite pass time, but put all of that aside? You're an amazing guy and you deserve the closest thing to a perfect relationship there is."

Steve smiled at her, wiping away a stray tear he hadn't realized had fallen before. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were into me."

Robin chuckled, getting up and letting the blood flow back through her legs. "If you let your hair grow any longer, I might be into it."

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"I can't believe you're letting me stoop this low." The long haired brunette chuckled at his sister's antics, lighting up a cigarette to smoke.

"Lighten up, Ducky. I'm sure scooping ice cream is almost as cool as whatever the hell you're interested in."

You let out an overdramatic sigh, leaning back into the worn-out leather of Eddie's van. Starcourt Mall was right in front of the two of you, basking in all it's glory.

Today would be the first day of your job at Scoops Ahoy, where you would be stuck scooping ice cream for screaming toddlers, rich, snobby and spoiled teenagers and overly judging mom's.

You definitely didn't ever see yourself working a job as an ice cream scooper, but alas, here you were. It was no secret that the Munson's were tight on money, your home being a trailer at the trailer park. And besides, you owed everything to your uncle, who worked his ass off to provide for the three of you.

"What are you going to do after I head inside?" You asked Eddie, crinkling your nose at the smell the cigarette was leaving in the car.

"Me?" Eddie began, leaning back into the car seat, "I'm going to the Hideout after this. I got a part time job there."

You let out a small ah before grabbing the cigarette from your one year older brother's mouth and putting it out, not without protests from Eddie, though.

"Those things are going to kill you, you know that, right?" You asked Eddie, groaning as Eddie simply lit himself another cigarette.

"Everyone dies of something. Might as well get a head start," Eddie said, laughing as you rolled your eyes at him, "besides, shouldn't you be heading inside? You don't want to be late on your first day, do you?"

You let out an audible groan before grabbing your bag from the backseat of Eddie's van. "I guess not," you said, opening the door and getting out.

"Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone!" Eddie called after her.

"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you!"

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"Harrington, did you hear?" Steve whipped his head to look at the blonde that was racing towards him, out of breath from running.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Hear what?" He asked, leaning against the counter. He came to the conclusion that people seem to hate ice cream on weekdays, because nobody had come in after a whole three hours of the shop being open.

"Phil hired someone! And guess who it is?" Robin said in an ominous voice, causing Steve to snort.

"I don't know, Santa Claus?"

Robin hit him on the shoulder. "No, dingus! Y/n Munson! You know, Eddie Munson's sister?"

Steve pursed his lips, raising his eyebrows at the blonde. The name did sound familiar, yet he couldn't put a face to the name. "Am I supposed to know who that is?"

Robin looked at him in shock. "You don't know her?" Steve shook his head. "She sucker punched Billy Hargrove square in the jaw last year for picking on one of the Hellfire kids! And she's Eddie's sister!"

"I got the part where she's Eddie's sister the first time, Robin. No need to repeat or emphasize that. And am I supposed to worship her or something by the way you're talking about her?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Robin questioned, opting to sit on the counter that Steve was leaning against.

"You're talking about her like she's some hotshot celebrity or something," Steve said, pushing away from the counter and sitting on one of the chairs facing Robin.

"I do not! I'm simply excited that there's gonna be someone else who can help me keep track of how many times you suck."

"First of all, ouch. Second of all, do you like her, Robin? As in like like her?"

"I used to. I asked her out last year but she said no, because she isn't in to girls. I thought she would hate me after that, but she hugged me and said that she was sorry if she humiliated me," Robin said, looking behind Steve and smiling.

"And don't forget that I said that I was honoured that you had a crush on me. It honestly made me feel good about myself," you said from the door.

Steve turned his head towards the door, eyes widening. He stumbled out of his seat while attempting to stand up, before moving towards the girl.

"Uh, hi! You must be Y/n. I'm Ro- I'm not Robin. Um, I'm-" Steve stopped himself before he could embarrass himself further, mentally kicking himself for his lack of social skills in that moment.

You simply laughed. "I know who you are, Steve. We went to the same middle school and high school together."

"Yeah, right! Of course we did. I'm so sorry," he said apologetically. He silently took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.

"It's okay, don't worry about it. I'm just surprised you're nice to me at all," you said, eyes moving to meet Robin's gaze from where she was still sitting on the counter. She was smirking at you, mouthing something you didn't quite catch.

"What do you mean? Why wouldn't I be?" Steve asked you, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

"The fact that you kind of always let your friend, Carol, pick on me and then laugh about it never really gave me the impression that you liked me, Harrington."

Steve's eyes slightly widened at your words. So that's why your name sounded familiar when Robin talked about you. That's why you looked so familiar when he saw you for the first time that day.

He remembered you clearly. How couldn't he? You, your brother and his friends were always the butt of his and his ex-best friends' jokes. He never specifically picked on you, or your brother, but Tommy H and Carol always did. And he allowed it to happen, despite his better judgement.

"Oh," Steve began, feeling terrible about how he had treated, or let his friends treat you, in the past, "I'm so sorry. I never should've allowed her to do that. They say that your friends are a reflection of who you are and I guess that they weren't really the nicest people and that they didn't really make me look good, and I'm so sorry for that. I never should've continued our-"

"No, it's okay! Don't worry about it. I don't really wanna relive those moments," you cut him off from his rambling, grimacing at the memories that resurfaced.

"I'm sorry. Not that it can fix everything, but please know that I am sorry," Steve apologized. He felt like the biggest jerk on the planet. If he had a time machine, the first thing he would do is go back and punch his former self in the face. He couldn't believe what he allowed himself to stoop to all for the sake of keeping his title as "King Steve".

That's probably why Nancy left him, he thought.

"It's okay. We should probably get to work. Can't slack off on my first day, can I?" You said with an awkward laugh, moving around him and going to the back.

"Man, one of these days I'm gonna need another board for this." Steve turned around, only to see Robin adding another mark to the "you suck" board.

"Oh, come on!"

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"I swear, if I have to serve Erica Sinclair one more free sample, I'm gonna lose my shit and throw my scooper at her."

Steve looked up from the book he was doodling in, smiling as he watched you sink down in the chair opposite of him. "Wow, she's that bad, huh? Never would've guessed."

You shot Steve a dirty look, which he took as a sign to laugh even harder.

It's been a full month since you started working at Scoop's Ahoy, and you've gotten along well with Steve, much to your surprise. You dreaded working here at first, mainly because you didn't know if you could handle working alongside the one and only "King Steve", but this month has been full of surprises. Steve Harrington is actually nice to you and acknowledges your existence, and not only for the sake of pointing out your flaws, Eddie managed to break a string on his beloved "Sweetheart" and you were actually enjoying your job.

Well, apart from Erica Sinclair slowly driving you to madness.

"Don't laugh at me! Whenever she comes around both you and Robin suddenly have to take your breaks, ultimately leaving me alone to deal with her!" You exclaimed, struggling to hold a grin off your face as you watched Steve double over in laughter.

"Yeah, and since you're so good at it, I might tell Robin that we have to unofficially, officially, assign you to attend to Erica Sinclair's every wish whenever she's here," Steve said, laughing even harder, if that was possible, at the look of horror that spread across your face.

"Please don't. I'd much rather cut my own arm off with a toothpick and use it as a spoon to eat my insides than have to deal with her alone everyday," you said with a small laugh, before freezing up at your choice of words.

Steve raised his eyebrows at your choice of words, before a look of disgust crossed over his features. "Oh, ew! Why did I imagine that? That's gross! Please don't ever do that. That sounds painful," Steve said, taking a sip of his coke that he had almost forgotten about.

"If you and Robin leave me alone with her again, that's gonna be my last resort," you said, leaning over to grab the coke from his hand.

Steve didn't protest, letting you take the coke. "I promise, I won't leave you alone again," he said.

Steve gave you a charming smile. You smiled back, breaking eye contact and looking down, fighting a blush working it's way onto your cheeks.

"Y/n, you're brother is here and he won't let me take his order. He said, and I quote, "My sister knows what I like. Save yourself the trouble and let her bring me the ice cream," Robin said, smiling slyly at the encounter she just witnessed.

You groaned, getting up from the chair. You walked towards the door, shooting Robin a questioning glance at the knowing smirk she was giving you.

Steve got up too, heading out to help you attend to customers. However, he was stopped by Robin, or more specifically, by the words that left her mouth.

"So... You and Y/n?" Robin said, wiggling her eyebrows at him. Steve gave her an annoyed face before moving past her, leaving her to cackle by herself.

"You didn't deny it, Harrington!"

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"Ah, there's my hardworking sister. It brings a tear to my eye. Little Ducky, all grown up."

You rolled your eyes at your brother's melodramatic greeting before moving to get his ice cream.

"Where's the usual Y/n I know? No witty comeback today?" Eddie asked, leaning on his elbows on the counter.

"If I were to make a witty comeback while I'm at work, unemployment and I will once again be the best of friends," you said, giving Eddie his ice cream. "So, you told me this morning that somebody was buying today."

Eddie handed you some money, enough to pay his ice cream. "Yeah," he began, taking a lick of his ice cream, "just some jock. It surprises me how they can hate me at school but at the end of the day, when they want something they enjoy, I'm their favourite person."

"They're two faced son's of bitches."

"Yeah, but they pay well."

You nodded before letting out a sigh. Over Eddie's shoulder you could see Erica Sinclair and her posse wandering around outside the store.

"What's wrong?" You turned around and saw Steve standing at the door.

"Look," you said, pointing over Eddie's shoulder. Eddie turned in the way that you pointed, letting out a bellowing laugh at who he saw.

"Sinclair's sister giving you trouble, Ducky?" Eddie asked.

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. "Ducky?" he asked in confusion.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as Eddie gave you a mischievous smirk.

"When she was 8, she picked up this dirty stuffed animal, which happened to be a duck. She cleaned it and wouldn't go anywhere without it for an entire year. She still has that duck 'till this day."

"You saw that opportunity and you grabbed it, didn't you?" you asked, rolling your eyes at the laugh Eddie let out.

"Now why would I do that? You really think that low of me? You wound me, dear sister."

You laughed with Eddie. Steve watched you with a smile on his face. As Eddie's laughter died down, he caught the fond smile that Steve was giving you.

Steve looked over at Eddie, his smile diminishing as he caught Eddie's skeptical, harsh gaze.

"Oh, shit. I think I'm gonna take my break now. Good luck with Erica, Steve," you said, heading into the backroom.

Steve looked at the entrance and saw Erica heading inside. Before Erica came, Eddie grabbed Steve's attention.

"You like my sister, don't you?"

Steve did a double take, stuttering and struggling to answer him. "What do you mean? I haven't even known her for that long, how can I-"

"Don't bullshit me, Harrington. I see the way you look at her. I know for a fact that she likes you too, and I know that sooner or later you're gonna ask her out. Just know this; you break her heart, I will cut off your you-know-what, chop it up and make a stew with it, and then I'm gonna make you eat it," Eddie said.

"Thank you, I guess?" Steve said confusedly.

"No problem. Now go ask her on that date before I change my mind."

Steve half ran into the backroom, ignoring Erica's protests. "Hey, I want my free samples!"

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You practically jumped out of your skin when Steve rushed though the door.

"What's wrong? Did someone die?" You said, getting up from the chair.

"What? No. I just wanted to ask you something," Steve said.

You raised your eyebrows. "Well, ask me, then."

"I was wondering if, maybe it would be possible, that you and I can- go on a date sometime, maybe."

You smiled as Steve rambled on. "Steve-" Steve continued to ramble. You tried to cut him off but he wouldn't stop talking, so you did the only thing you could think of.

You kissed him.

It wasn't long, just long enough to make him stop talking.

"I'd love to go on a date with you."

Steve smiled, relieved at the answer. "Thank god, I was worried you'd say no and that Robin would find out and she wouldn't let me hear the end of it and-"

You cut him off by kissing him again, longer this time. Steve wrapped his arms around your waist, deepening the kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, forgetting the world around you.

"Excuse me, I don't mean to interrupt, but can one of you come help me with Erica?!" Robin said.

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So... This took me two months to write just to turn out like... this 😭 Hope you guys like it nonetheless. Love you all and I'll see you beautiful people next time!

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader

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everlastingdreams · 1 year

Text

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart Chapter 19

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Story Summary: After fire claimed the lives of your family, the monastery of your Uncle Carden becomes your new home. As the niece of a priest you are expected to behave prim and proper, but not even the watchful eyes of the Weeping Monk can see all. An ancient magic returns to life when love and duty begin to blur.

Chapter Title: Caught In The Hands Of Fate

Notes: I just realized I have to proofread three chapters again soon ;_;

Warnings: There’s a list of warnings for this story: Murder. Violence. Death. Angst. Sexism. Strong Language. Trauma. Childhood trauma. Survivor’s guilt. Mentions of child maltreatment. Threat of Sexual assault. PTSD. Misogyny, Self-flagellation. Gore.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Pining. Smut. Spicy content. Little Slow-burn.

Word count of this fic: +130K

Chapter: 19 / lol Gonna keep the chapter count a secret until the end.

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After going to your room and stuffing the satchel with the socks under your bed and out of sight, you went out to find Lancelot and see how things were going with Neia and Percival.

You weren’t ready to see those socks again, in truth you hoped not to see them again. The one who they were meant for had suffered a horrible faith and they only reminded you of it.

Anne would not have wanted you to think this way, but you couldn’t help it…

You stepped into the stables again and found it void of the Feys you were looking for.

The laughter of children came from nearby and you followed the sound.

There they were, Neia on her horse and Percival was walking beside her and held on to the reins.

Lancelot stood against the wooden fence that surrounded the meadow.

There were goats and cows running through the grass, as well as some other horses.

You stopped next to him on his right and leaned on the fence to watch Neia and Percival in the meadow.

The Ash Man was curious how it had went “Have you spoken to Gawain?”

You gave a nod “Gawain said he’ll talk to the others about it.”

What…

He hummed, took a step backwards and walked slowly to stand on your right instead of your left side.

There was another very quiet hum and then he took you off-guard when he leaned in and blatantly smelled you.

With widened eyes you stared at him utterly confused “Why did you… what was that for?”

A Fey scent he recognized was all over you.

Had Gawain truly found it necessary to do this?

Part of him knew it had been done on purpose to mess with him and his heightened senses, yet part of him severely disliked how another’s scent was over you now.

He held his tongue, knowing how it could come across if he mentioned it.

You saw the slight narrowing of his eyes and the change in them “Alright, spit it out.”

He proceeded with caution, but knew the annoyance was still detectable “You smell different.”

You pushed for an answer “Like what?”

It came out a bit short “Like Gawain.”

The scent was so strong that he had thought it was Gawain approaching him.

And there it was. Did he really think you would not notice the difference in him when he was jealous or insecure?

The truth was nothing to feel guilty or bad about “He told me something personal and I hugged him.”

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the fence “What did he tell you?”

Did he think Gawain had declared his love for you or something of the sorts?

While sighing, you answered “If you want to know, you will have to ask him yourself. I don’t believe it was meant to be told to others. It was personal, Lancelot.”

The Ash Man was quiet for a second, then looked at you.

It was better to warn him of the tragedy in the knight’s past “It was something that happened in his past. He lost someone.”

Realization washed over him, you two had shared your grieve and he had misinterpreted it “He told you this?”

You nodded “Yes. Just… be considerate if you ask about it.”

He fidgeted with his hands “I will not ask. If he wishes to speak of it, he will do so when he feels comfortable.”

It wasn’t forgotten how quick he was to fear the worst “I wish you weren’t so worried that I would prefer another over you.”

Right away his full attention was on your face “I am not.”

It was not meant to be accusing “Don’t lie. I can tell.”

Lancelot sighted quietly, remorse present in his eyes “I am sorry.” there was a short pause “You could have someone who has no trouble being with you the way you would want them to be. Someone who would not have asked you to wait.”

So that was what bothered him…

You took one of his hands and brought it to the mark on your arm “Lancelot, we spoke of this.”

The gesture held more meaning then you could bring into words.

The mark was still there and the love for him was too.

You saw him struggle to meet your eyes “Look at me…” finally he did “The mark is still there, is it not? I do not want someone else, just you. You’re all I want.”

Now those weeping eyes did not leave yours and you were certain that if you had not been out in the open, he wouldn’t have held back the way he was doing now…

The tease fell from you “If you want me to stop smelling like another, maybe replace it with your own scent again.”

His hand curled around your lower arm and you felt the mark tingling in excitement.

The idea was terribly inviting…

You took his hand off of your arm and moved it around your form while you leaned into his side “This is a nice way to start. I can use the comfort.”

He did not need an explanation and brought it to your shoulder to keep you close.

This was nice…

Especially when he proceeded to start and rub along your back a bit.

Only when the children threatened to look your way did he fold his hands together behind his back. Still, you remained close at his side.

Then with a cheeky smile, you leaned even closer and sniffed him yourself.

It was meant to be an inside joke between the both of you. But he genuinely smelled good, your heart took a leap and the mark’s response was just as strong.

Never did you expect the response it send through your body.

Dammit…was this a Fey ability you were not aware off?

Was it just him? Was it the Ash Folk blood that ran through his veins? Or did the mark connect you to him so strongly that even his scent was enough to fuel you with desire?

Your whole body had warmed up and you dropped your eyes to the grass, too flustered to let it show.

He was aware something was happening and looked at you curiously because he had no idea what exactly it was.

Percival had seen you sniff his tall friend and loudly pointed out your odd behavior “What are you doing?”

Of course the twit next to you turned his head to the side to prevent himself from laughing.

You mumbled through your teeth “Of course he never sees you do it…”

He swayed and bumped into you lightly “Years of experience.”

His attention was pulled away when he saw Neia try to dismount, like he had taught her, but the girl was clearly frightened.

He called out for her to wait and went over to them.

Percival was doing his best to explain to her how she should do it.

Lancelot was quick to reach up and pluck her from the horse, then safely set her down on the ground.

Neia however did not let go off his hand and the poor Ash Man did not have it in him to pluck her hand from his own.

If he didn’t learn to do so, he’d be walking around with the girl for the rest of the day, you were sure of it.

Actually, you wouldn’t mind seeing that happen.

Percival was grinning up at him, oh how amusing must it be for him to see the former fearsome ‘Weeping Monk’ with a little Fey girl attached to his hand.

A look for guidance was send your way and you just grinned back.

Even from this distance you could see him roll his eyes a bit.

He bend down, picked Neia up and carried her out the meadow “Percival, will you lead the horse back to the stable?”

The boy was already pulling the horse along “Sure. I’ll take Spot back.”

Neia went ahead and put her small fingers to those ashen markings again, half expecting them to come off his skin like they haven’t been their since he was born.

The second Lancelot was in front of you, he put her down and she gave the biggest pout “Y/n will take you and Percival to your lessons.”

You glared at him and his way of shoving the responsibility onto you.

There was a twitch at the corner of his mouth as he fought the smirk.

It vanished completely when Neia questioned him “Are you angry? I’m sorry…”

The question came out of nowhere and took both of you off-guard.

He was at her eye-level not a second later, uncaring if he had just knelt down into a bit of mud.

Neia rubbed along her right arm to sooth herself again.

Rarely he heard the whispers of the Hidden, yet now he heard their faint voices.

The way the girl kept rubbing at her arm each time she was nervous or upset…

It just seemed…off…

He was distracted by it “I am not…” instinct led him to reach for her right arm “May I?…”

The girl let him hold her arm and got very quiet when he began to roll up her sleeve.

The sleeve was not even at her elbow and you covered your mouth from sheer shock.

His heart sank at the sight of the old scars.

Her arm was littered with them, the result of leather that had struck her skin countless times.

There were so many… too many.

He needed a moment to collect himself before looking at her face again “Who did this?”

It surprised even himself how calm and quiet he managed his voice to be.

At first she shook her head and fell silent.

You knelt beside her and put an arm around her for comfort “It’s alright. You don’t have to be afraid, they’ll never hurt you again.”

Lancelot gently moved his fingers over the scars “Neia…”

She answered his question “Papa did.”

It dawned on you that you had only ever seen her mother and she had never said a word of her father.

To hear how a father was able to hurt a child like this set his blood to boil “Is your father alive?”

If he was, he would rectify that.

Little Neia shook her head.

It was a relief that the bastard was gone.

If the man had not been gone yet, he would have been soon enough.

You saw Percival walk over and Lancelot rolled down her sleeve again.

The boy had seen it anyway and stopped next to Lancelot “What’s on her arm?”

He did not want the girl to think she had to hide them “Those are scars.”

Percival was clever and stopped himself from asking further.

The boy was often bold and brash, but never when it came to things like this.

The young knight took Neia’s hand and therefore relieved Lancelot of his duty “Come. Let’s go to the lesson.”

The girl looked rather giddy all of a sudden when the boy held her hand.

It did not go unnoticed by you or Lancelot and you shared a look.

Still, rattled by the revaluation, your voice wavered “Good plan, Percival. Come, sweetling.”

Neia was quick to lock her hand with yours and let you walk both her and her young knight to their lessons.

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In the dinning hall, you stood and watched a Tusk Folk Man and Faun Folk woman entertain the children in their lessons with an animate story.

Seeing Percival and Neia laugh at the story warmed your heart.

How could you not have seen the silent suffering Neia had gone through?

Even now, as she mourned her mother, the girl hid those feelings.

But Lancelot had seen through the facade, perhaps it was because he knew what it was like to mask true emotions so those around him would never know.

A light tap on your shoulder broke your attention away.

Arthur stood beside you now “Keeping an eye on Percival, eh?”

It wasn’t a real question, mostly a jest “Why should I?”

He kept his voice low “Anything that shines like steel isn’t safe around him. I have to say, the boy has an eye for treasure and weapons.”

“Are you accusing him of something?” You arched a brow.

Arthur squinted his eyes, smile breaking out “Not at all.” then nodded at the group of children “That girl, Neia?”

You gave a nod.

He crossed his arms in front of him “Do you know that she doesn’t talk to anyone? Just Percival, Lancelot and you. But no one else.”

What?

At that, you paid some attention to the group and saw that she indeed did not interact with anyone else but Percival. Neia even looked down when another child tried to speak to her. And when the Faun Woman tried to get her to interact, the girl scurried back.

“Did you see that?” Arthur blurted out at the sight of it.

“Maybe she is just shy.” You found yourself not truly believing the words yourself.

The violence she had suffered made her wary and you held yourself back from going over there and taking a seat next to her.

Arthur’s smile had faded and you didn’t have to say a word, he knew something was wrong.

You did not make him ask “She has scars on her arm. When her father was alive, he hurt her.”

He discreetly pointed at her “He hurt her?!? But she’s… she’s so small. What sort of bastard would do that?”

It wasn’t a real question, it just sounded so surreal that a person could hurt a child “Like you said, a bastard. Did Gawain ever tell you about her mother?”

Arthur gave a nod, recalling the tragic information “I can’t imagine what it must have been like for her to live with her mother, while her mother was…”

Dead… the woman had passed on and Neia had been looking after her mother who would never wake again.

You blinked faster, struggling with the memory of the day you had stepped foot in Neia’s home “I can’t begin to imagine how many children are out there who are living through such horrific things. And it must be worse with this war going on.”

He sighed, agreeing with that “Speaking of war. Gawain told me that you want the Abbot to be dealt with.”

You guessed he would share his dismay regarding it “I know you are against it.”

Arthur debunked that idea “I was against Lancelot acting reckless. But he went off and tried it anyway. He and Red are lucky to be alive.”

“So, you’re not against it?” You asked.

He shook his head “Not if it’s safe. We have lost enough people, but I agree that the Abbot needs to be dealt with.”

You told Arthur what you did not dare tell Lancelot “There is a way that does not involve other people. I could do it alone.”

As a result, his voice went a little louder “Absolutely not!”

Reasoning with him would be easier than with the stubborn Ash Man “When the Trinity Guards found us in the forest last night, they said that the Abbot wanted me alive. I could use that to our advantage.”

He took hold of your elbow and led you out of the room “I wasn’t aware you had run into them. Neither of you looked wounded, so I guess they have been dealt with?”

You nodded “Yes. It’s where we got the new horses from.”

“Of course Lancelot would fail to mention it to Gawain and I.” Arthur rolled his eyes a bit in frustration “But why would Wicklow want you alive?”

“I’ve been told I can be quite charming.” You deadpanned and saw him slide his eyes to you “Alright, it’s because Wicklow wants Lancelot. Either to kill him for betraying the Church or because he wants to force him to hunt the Fey again.”

Arthur was pensive “Handing yourself over to the Abbot isn’t safe, y/n.”

You walked beside him “I think Gawain wants me to infiltrate the church in Helgenstone dressed in my tunic I still have from the abbey.”

He readjusted his jerkin “How would you even manage to get Wicklow away from his guards? They follow him around all the time.”

It was a valid concern “Perhaps Gawain will have an idea.”

He turned to face you again “Well, whatever Gawain decides, you can count on my help.”

It was a relief to hear it “Thank you, Arthur.”

Lancelot entered the hallway and approached you and Arthur on sight.

“Did you speak to Gawain?” Arthur questioned him immediately.

The Ash Man nodded “I did. He is still deciding over it. Red caught wind of the idea and is hounding him over it now.”

Arthur sighed and walked past him “I’ll go and see if I can help.”

While passing him by, Arthur amicably patted Lancelot on the arm. The look of sheer surprise by the Ash Man was missed by Arthur.

You looked down the hallway, at the door of the dining hall where the children were still laughing at the story told. An idea had popped in your head, but you would need some items for it.

Lancelot touched your arm to draw your attention “What has you distracted?”

You made a request “I would like to go into the forest and I was wondering if you wanted to come along. It won’t take long, I just want to pick some flowers.”

It had piqued his curiosity, he had never seen you walking around looking for flowers before “Flowers?”

You hummed “To braid in Neia’s hair. It’s fine if you don’t want to come along.”

It was almost amusing to him “The last time you touched a flower in the forest, it nearly burned your skin.”

Well, it was no lie… “So, you’ll come?”

He tilted his head a bit “Of course. Shall we walk?”

After agreeing to walk, together you walked towards the forest.

No horse was needed because you didn’t have to go deep into the forest to find pretty flowers.

And he even helped, that heightened sense of smell of his was coming into handy to find flowers that were safe.

Most of the foraging was you pointing at a flower and him giving a ‘yes’ or ‘no’.

“How did you know about Neia?” You asked while plucking a flower from a fallen branch it was growing on.

The explanation was simple for him, having had the same experience “I also feel my scars when I think back of my upbringing. That is what happens with her. If she is reminded of her father’s anger, she can’t help but sooth the scars.”

It was heartbreaking to hear it “I really didn’t know she had them…or that she was treated that way.”

He did not put any sort of blame on you for that “Neither did I. What baffled me most was that she was not afraid of me anymore so quickly.”

You frowned “Because you are being kind to her.”

It was the example he hoped to use “Exactly. We reached out to her and she has not strayed away from us nor Percival.”

The girl had sprung to form an attachment to the first who had been kind to her, but she remained withdrawn to others…

You began to understand what he tried to explain “I never see her talk to others beside us, not even with those she has lessons with.”

He gave a nod “It will get better for her in time. She will not grow up at the mercy of a whip. Not anymore.”

Not like him he meant…

The words were dipped in admiration “You’ve always been protective of the little ones.”

There was only determination in his tone “I could not save my younger brother and I will be dead long before I do not try what I can to save other children from the same fate.”

A silence fell and when he did look at your face, he must have seen the affection in your eyes.

It made you drop your gaze to the ground.

Upon seeing it, he did the same.

After collecting enough flowers, you stored them in the small basket you had brought along.

The walk back was pleasant and you often walked against his side “Have you ever considered becoming a father?”

He kept the close distance, the sword at his side bumped into you “I do not know if it is even possible, if there has ever been a child from Ash Folk and Manblood…”

It was information he would never come to know as long as no other Ash Folk were there to speak of it.

Unless…

You pulled him out off his wandering thoughts “And between different Fey species?”

He considered it possible “That is more likely.” then muttered more to himself “But you are not Fey.”

It had been said so quiet that you had not heard it well “What?”

He said it a little louder “You are not Fey.”

You couldn’t resist to act a little cheeky now “Oh, so you would pick me to be mother of your children? Interesting.”

His throat bopped at what it also meant.

Children were the result of physical intimacy.

The Ash Man shut down, like he had crossed a line and been too forward.

So brave, but when it came to the topic he shied away.

By suppressing your own shyness, you hoped to ease his a little “Let me know if you ever wish to begin with finding out if Ash Folk can reproduce with Manbloods.”

You bit your tongue and directed your eyes at the sky after that bold statement.

His momentarily blank expression changed into a smirk, then he took hold of the hilt of your sword and pulled you closer by it.

It had you giggling softly before a laugh slipped out.

By doing so, he also left himself vulnerable to your shenanigans.

You’d stolen his sword quick as a whip and placed the basket down.

Taking a few paces backwards, you saw the blue of his eyes darken.

Slightly his head tilted and you knew he was willing to indulge you in this foolery.

It was a dare leaving his lips “Go on then, see if you can handle such a sword.”

Your brow arched high “I can.”

In truth you struggled to keep the sword still instead of swaying it round and about.

He drew his short sword, the look of a wolf on it’s hunt was present in his eyes.

To your own amazement, you blocked his first strike.

Well… that was what you though at least.

Somehow he had managed to grab hold of the crossguard on the longsword where your grip on the hilt was far less firm.

The sword was out of your hands with a single tug at the crossguard, he sank both swords into the soil, freeing his hands.

He would collect them later.

Lancelot stalked closer, sly smirk only getting stronger “At least your confidence is not lacking. Your swordsmanship on the other hand…”

You took a step back for every step he took to close the distance and you drew the sword that rested at your side.

It went so fast…

Almost like he knew you would be drawing your own sword as well.

He took one large step closer, sank down and grabbed the sword by the flat of the blade, his hands slid across the steel while he moved forward.

The sword was stolen from your grasp before you even knew what was happening.

The last thing you felt before losing your balance was him grabbing the back of your knee.

You sank to the ground.

It had been his intention.

He had discarded your sword right away “Careful.”

By holding on to his shoulders, you avoided a fall.

Now you sat on your knees in the grass and he was sitting the same way in front of you.

“Are you bloody mad?!?” You squeaked out.

He brought his hands to your waist and held on “You started this. Did you consider it wise to challenge me with the sword?”

The kneading on your waist chased the wit right out of you.

He hummed knowingly at the lack of an answer, seeing the effect he had on you now.

Was he able to sense the way the mark was tingling all over your arm?

You tapped on his shoulders playfully, then sneaked your hands beneath the hood to lace your fingers in his locks “You didn’t have to bring me to my knees-” and fired another tease at him “If you wanted that to happen, you only had to ask.”

The momentarily confusion as to why he would want you to kneel lasted only three seconds, then he leaned a little back.

You felt a little guilty for teasing him with it, but it was also meant to show him that he did not have to be uncomfortable about the topic with you.

He had heard of these… things happening.

But to hear you speak so boldly of it was unexpected.

A hand left your waist and went to hold the back of your neck.

He studied your expression, letting his gaze roll down from your eyes to your mouth a few times “You have been acting quite promiscuous to me.”

Your eyes dropped down from his gaze, shy smile growing “I can’t help it. Sorry.”

His thumb traced below your bottom lip “Do not be sorry.”

When he leaned in, you leaned back “People could see us.”

It halted him “Still worried what others might think if they knew?”

You feared they would become far more vigilante towards him “I see how difficult it is for you to be accepted among your people. I don’t want to make it even harder. They know Father Carden was my uncle, they don’t think much of me either because of that.”

Lancelot lowered his hands to your waist again and did not bother to pretend it was not with lecherous intend “I would not be here now if it were not for you. I would have bled out in the forest. I will not let the opinions of others keep me from you.”

You heard the way his voice had lowered and felt the greedy hold he had on you.

He wasn’t just holding on… he was feeling.

There was a moment where you could sense something was about to happen, it occurred only seconds before he moved and had you with your back on the grass beneath him.

Still kneeling beside you, it was clear that he felt quite comfortable in this mystical forest.

You were looking around to see if anyone else was near, half scolding him for his impulsiveness “Goodness! Lancelot!”

He was leaning over you, gaze roaming over your form, hand brushing your stomach “Fear not, there is no one.”

Your eyes squinted up at him “What do you think you are you doing?”

His gaze caressed your features and body like a gentle wave, while he rubbed along your stomach “I am…curious…I think.”

The way he could not stop staring was enough to make one nervous.

“Curious about what?” You asked, genuinely curious what he was curious about.

Those weeping eyes searched yours while he traced a finger over the lacing of your dress, they stayed on yours when he undid the knot that tied the laces together.

Your chest heaved for air and you fidgeted with some strands of grass beside you.

The lacing was undone for a little more than an inch.

It was enough to offer him a view, the same one he had caught a glimpse of in the inn.

This was not the time or place, but he was slowly losing the fight against the desire that continued to fuel.

As if he meant to thank you for allowing it, he tenderly pressed his lips your temple.

He touched nothing more, the titillating view was already more than he’d dare to ask of you “If I wanted you to stop having another’s scent, I would have to replace it with mine.”

You gawked at him “So you just decided to handle that here in the forest?”

Wickedly he grinned “Yes.”

He brought his nose down to the crook of your neck to inhale your scent.

Breathing normally became a challenge “And opening my dress helps this how?”

His hand slid under your back, warm breath ghosted over your neck “Forgive me for not having a proper excuse.”

You wouldn’t let him off the hook just yet “I’ll forgive it if you tell me what the improper excuse is.”

Instead of answering, the stubble of his beard moved along your skin and passed your collarbone.

With his bottom lip he felt the warmth of your bosom and the quick rise and fall of your chest.

This was not the time or place…

He pressed his aching lips to what was uncovered.

That warm alluring scent, which covered your skin, awoke a hunger in him.

In return you curled your fingers in his hair and kept him close.

He saw at as encouragement to keep going.

It were his thoughts that he let out while coming up to touch his lips to the shell of your ear “If I die in Helgenstone, I will have this to keep in my thoughts in my last moments on this world.”

Did he truly consider it a possibility??

It had sounded so normal for him… as if he did not fear the prospect of death anymore.

But it wasn’t normal to you, you were not raised in battle and the possibility to die in one.

You found yourself holding on to his shoulder, petrified at the thought that it might cost him his life “If I do it alone, no one else will have to sacrifice themselves.”

He stopped and locked eyes with you “What?”

He had heard it and was giving you the chance to reconsider.

But you didn’t “Gawain was right. Enough have suffered, especially the Fey. I could do it, I can deal with the Abbot alone.”

Lancelot was out of your hold and on his feet right away, not believing his ears, he faced away from you.

You inelegantly got up from the grass as well, your clothes a mess “Lance-”

“I do not want to hear it!” His voice was sharp and he turned to look at you “Do you believe I would stand aside and let you risk your life? Never.”

There was a long pause and he drew a couple of breaths to calm himself.

The question came out much softer “Where is this coming from, y/n?”

“My kin did this to the Fey, I-…” You fell quiet.

Lancelot was able to guess what was causing this “The faults of your uncle are not yours to bear.”

The words were forced out of you “And yet I bear them.”

Who was he to makes these claims while he himself had caused so much suffering?

Perhaps… it had made him the person who was able to see the difference.

The difference between kindness and hate.

He sought your presence once more and took your hands in his “You’re nothing like he was. He felt no guilt over what he did. And here you are, among my kind, helping.”

Your shoulders shrugged, throat closing up from emotion “Helping with what? I haven’t done a thing to earn my place here-”

He cradled your head and silenced you “Tell that to Neia, the child who lives because you saw her in a crowd of people and choose to help while others ignored her existence.” his face was close to yours “Tell it to Percival who would have watched me die if you had not found us.”

His forehead rested against yours, noses touching and the intimacy of it had the love for him flourish further inside of you.

Others could see…

Heaven you wanted him…

He showed more restraint than you, well… maybe his eyes did not.

They dropped from yours down to your chest and it reminded you that he had unlaced some of your dress.

You brought a finger under his chin and tilted it up a little until he met your eyes again “Rude.”

His face flushed a bit and for a second he had the look of a guilty young boy “I-”

You didn’t let him apologize for it “You were the one to open it, be a dear and close it for me again.”

He matched your playful politeness “Can it wait?”

The smack against his arm made a laugh fly out of him

Out of actual politeness, he did do as ask asked and closed the laces “You are not the only one with a personal vendetta against the Abbot. The man tried to have me killed the night I left with Percival. I have not forgotten his arrogance and the desire I had to erase it from his face.”

Preferably by bloodying it up.

The knot in the laces was tied again “You are not alone in this, y/n.”

You did not want to argue over this, not when this had been such a lovely walk mere moments ago.

So you nodded and tried to draw him closer just when he took a step back.

He tsked you right away “We are not alone anymore.”

With a discreet head tilt, he pointed out the other Feys foraging the woods too.

Fine then.

You picked up the basket again that you had filled with flowers and grabbed the sword from where it had fallen while he collected his own from where he had planted them.

While doing so, you noticed the way the group of Feys where looking at you.

Not a friendly look, no, it was one of disgust.

It came as another reminder that even you could not erase your connection to Father Carden, to them you were an invader, a trespasser…

Lancelot was Fey, in time he would find his place. He was Ash Folk, a kind born to protect the Fey with their magic.

But you… you would always be Manblood. No mark would ever change that.

He was more distant now that others were there to see it, but not distant enough to not walk closely beside you when returning to the city.

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Upon the sun’s departure and the moon’s slow arrival there had been no news from Gawain. The Green Knight must have decided not to act on the opportunity in Helgenstone, or perhaps one of the others had talked him out of the idea.

Now you sat in Neia’s room, braiding the flowers you had picked into her hair as best as you could. Percival was even helping by sorting out the, according to him, disgusting flowers from the pretty ones.

Yes, the boy was strong of opinion and you tried not to take it personal.

“This one stinks.” He held one up.

Lancelot would have disagreed…

“That one then?” You pointed at another flower.

Percival handed you the other one, approving of the idea.

Neia couldn’t stop touching her hair in excitement and multiple times she ‘commanded’ Percival to hand her the small hand mirror.

Of course the boy sighed and rolled his eyes, still he indulged her wish every time.

At some point her eyes had caught sight of the bangle on your arm and you handed it to her for a bit so you could work on her hair without her constantly fidgeting with it.

To your silently amazement, the flowers you had picked kept their beauty, as if their health remained the same when in connection with Fey kind.

You’d never seen her so happy and all it took were some flowers in her hair. All the flowers where white, like she had in her hair the day you met her.

She held up the bangle and asked “Where did you find it?”

Percival answered it “Lancelot gave it to her.”

You confirmed it was true “Percival is right. Lancelot gave me that bangle.”

Neia was pensive “Like you gave me your necklace?”

You hummed agreeing and added the last flower to her hair, you almost asked her if she had indeed sold the necklace, but her situation had been so dire that it was a given.

After fidgeting with the bangle a little more, she handed it back to you.

Well, actually she took it upon herself to put it over your hand and around your wrist again.

Then she noticed the mark on your arm “Fey marks?”

It had her so very confused to see those marks on a Manblood.

Percival, the cheeky rascal, chimed in “Lancelot gave her those too.”

This time you squinted your eyes at him but his grin did not falter “I wonder, does the Ash Man tell you secrets, Percival?”

The shit-eating grin on his face should have been a warning.

Percival thought he would surprise you with the news “He fancies you.”

Neia’s mouth dropped open at the claim and then she looked at you for your reaction as well.

You saw a chance and feigned to be surprised by the admission “Really? What makes you think that?”

The boy believed he had a chest filled with knowledge no one else knew off.

But nothing could have prepared you for the secret he so bluntly decided to share.

Percival casually answered “He stares at you a lot. And at your bottom.”

Right away you covered Neia’s ears “Percival…”

A big grin was plastered on his face “What? It’s true. And he gave you a mark and jewelry.”

Your face was burning from his bluntness “Just…I…”

Without knocking, the door creaked open and Pym tripled into the room.

“Oh, here you are.” Her attention fell from you to the flowers in Neia’s hair “Ooh, that looks nice.”

Neia beamed with pride over her freshly styled hair.

Pym struggled a little to walk into the room with the food she had wrapped up in linen.

Of course Percival was quick to help her.

“One for each of you.” She quickly told the boy.

He handed Neia one and Pym handed you the other.

She plopped down on Neia’s bed “I thought you might be hungry and brought you some bread and fruit.”

It had been a good guess, you were indeed quite hungry “Thank you, Pym. I haven’t really eaten anything today.”

Neia took a bite from her pear and pleaded “Can you read us a story before we have to sleep?”

You were about to agree to it, but Pym made the sacrifice instead.

“I’ll ready you a story.” She told Neia, then said to you “You can go and rest if you want to. I know you weren’t able to sleep last night.”

You asked “Are you sure?”

Pym had no problem entertaining the children “I’m sure. Go on, off you pop.”

Before doing so, you gave Neia a hug. Doing the same with Percival was a bit of a challenge and the boy rolled his eyes, as if it was just to indulge you that he’d allowed it.

Heaven forbid one might know that he loved it…

“Goodnight.” You told them, telling Pym “And thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled, then pointed at the food in your hands “Eat your food.”

Your smile matched hers “I will.”

By the time you reached the door, Neia had already pulled a book from under her pillow and put it in Pym’s hand.

You went over to your room and snatched the satchel from under your bed to get the socks out of them. Anne would not have wanted them to go to waste…

Then you returned to Neia’s room, finding Pym busy reading the story Neia had requested and clearly adding some commentary to it when she disagreed with the actions of the characters in said book.

You went over to Pym and placed the sock next to her on the bed “Maybe you can use these?”

She glanced down for a moment and back up at you “Oh, wow. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.” You were glad to hear that she seemed happy to have them “I’ll leave you to it now. If you need me, I will be in my room.”

Neia waved at you as you left. Percival laid draped over the foot of the bed, eyes up at the ceiling while listening to the story.

The moment you were back in your room, you put the food Pym had given you into the now empty satchel along with a flask of water.

There wouldn’t be much you would need, the most important thing was the sword and knife at your side.

You did change into something more suitable for what you were about to do. Trousers and a shirt would be more comfortable than a dress for this. Luckily you found those in the old closet as well, the trousers had a stain or two at the legs. The shirt had a tear at the elbow.

Under the clothes, you discovered a long sleeveless leather vest, it fitted well over the shirt you had on now. And it would keep you warm along with the cloak.

Lastly, you pulled the tunic you had worn at the abbey from the closet.

It was strange to see it now, strange to know that the place and people you had called ‘home’ for a while was now gone.

The veil and coif were neatly folded between it, a sign of the respect you had for the women you had met there.

You would wear it one last time, one last service for the ones who had lost their lives.

After packing up the satchel, you put on your cloak and sat on your bed until all sounds in the hallway and outside dimmed down.

The dark of night cloaked the halls of the fortress in it’s shadows, while passing Lancelot’s room you removed your bangle and hanged it on the brass doorknob. If you were not to return, he would know that you had understood and accepted the risk of your actions.

As discreetly as one could, you made your way through the castle.

Once at the stables, you attached your satchel to Llamrai’s saddle and mounted the horse.

You hoped to reach Helgenstone in time, Wicklow would be there at noon.

Tomorrow the lands would be rid of a monster, or the kin of one.

Taglist:

@ourlazydetectivekitten @the-great-adventures-of-me @linkpk88 @fxrchxldws @elenaoftheturks @slytherlight @beananacake @crystallizedtime @moonlightaura03 @angrygardendeer @have-aheart @5am-cigarette @arcanenature @thewinterskywalker @notyourwildestdream @coloursforyourportrait @koressecretidentity @nike90 @n1ghtlux @rachlovesactors @luckyzipperscissorsbat @morena-doing-stuff @the-fangirl-diaries @gipsydanger17 @heavenly1927 @phantasmalbeiing @labyrinthonmymind @asarcastic-thiamstan @rainyv-skies

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story.

#weeping monk #theweepingmonk #weeping monk x you #the weeping monk x reader #weepingmonk #lancelot #lancelot x reader #reader x lancelot #lancelot fic #you/weepingmonk #reader/weepingmonk #weepingmonk/you #weepingmonk/reader #Daniel Sharman #daniel sharman character

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animation-is-my-jam · 4 months

Note

im so utterly curious, what are your gripes with saving tobey? Is it where he almost kills worgirl? That was definitely jarring to say the least...

WOAH! Oop, Someone caught me/lhjj

Nah wait-wait. Yup, I'm guessing you saw a bit of my little sentence about it on my fic recommendations, and LET ME BE CLEAR, it's not that I have total gripes with Saving Tobey...

I just think it's a bit overrated compared to its sequel fic and other fics at the time//

HOWEVER, I will acknowledge that maybe that's because of my own taste.

AND that the fic in general did help with the tobecky momentum, and it's part of fandom history. So I appreciate it for that and I get why some praise it.

Idk, I guess. Even since I first read it back in 2018, I haven't been super in love with it, and I ate everything up back then. I guess to put it into better words, I'll just insert an excerpt from my unreleased Tobecky fanfiction list/reviews on Saving Tobey:

"I will say that looking back upon this fic many years later, I do have some personal story things I'm not crazy for. For one I'm not the biggest fan of the 'Becky has to change or fix Tobey before it's too late' plots because it really just leaves Tobey feeling like the world's most insecure boy who can't work self-reflection until the nice pretty girl tells him to. And that lie and reveal (one of the essential tropes in tobecky) was juicy when I first read it, but that last final climactic battle really didn't do too well in a re-read especially if by the end we expect Wordgirl/Becky to not feel cautious on Tobey's friendship and trust and she just guilts herself. This fic is more of a better platonic Tobecky and tobey character analysis story than a romantic story like what others think, and I think that was very much the intention of the author. As the next fic wants to make it clear, this was set up before anything romantic going to be on Becky's mind."

And yes, anonymous, it's a little bit of that. Even though that might be in character for Tobey (sigh, at least according to Tobey goes good), I'm in the world of fanfiction, and I don't want the read thaaat, even it was for the angsty, like I mentioned in my quote, it felt rushed for Tobey to just do that, like I get him being upset at Becky for technically manipulating him but stilll, and I did get sad but not in a good way, I'm a dumb person who let's media dictate her mood for a couple of hours//

(Thanks for the Ask btw!! (^.^))

#not main tagging im chicken #again its just me and my personal feelings on it #“Time to go home” slaps tho and i stand by that #and maybe cause this wasn't my first Tobecky fanfiction that had me so invested more when i first got into Tobecky #so im not that emotionally attached to it #the honor for my first Tobecky fic that i kept up with and anticipated the updates for was. Something Hidden #jam asks #again thx for the ask! i love getting them

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onlyweknowleeknow · 2 years

Text

108

Felix x reader

Genre: best friends, wedding au, angst.

Synopsis: Not everything is meant to be. And sometimes, no matter how much you want things to work out, you just have to come to terms with the fact that not everything ends with love confessions and kisses.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: unrequited feelings, longing, kisses, sadness, heartbreak, freckle counting, reader let’s Felix go, insecurity, sad(?) ending.

a/n: I hope you guys like this little story. I wrote it a looong time ago and just changed it around to fit Felix. It’s short, but I’m writing a lot of stories for you all to read, this is just to hold you over for a bit. enjoy! :)

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Today was it, the most important day of your life.

Your gown was lovely, as was the man who held you in his arms. He spun you around, hands wrapped tightly around your dressed up waist. He smiled down at you and lifted his eyebrows when you met his gaze.

Your fingertips traced the edge of his bowtie, but you made sure to quickly straighten it back out, fingers moving nimbly. He clasped your hand with his own, followed by a soft clink that echoed from the sound of your new rings colliding. His ring brushed against yours for a moment, and emotion swelled in your chest. When you looked up, the idiot was grinning at you, those beautiful eyes curving into perfect half moons.

“Hey, you’re crying,” he hummed, releasing your hand to move his finger tips over the tops of your cheeks in an attempt to wipe the tears from your now damp face. “You said you didn’t want to cry today. I hope it’s not about your dress. You look absolutely ravishing, I just can’t look away.” The young man teased, lips curling into a tiny, utterly precious pout.

“Oh stop.” You mumbled with a grin, “I didn’t want to, but I planned on it. Don’t act like you didn’t expect it.” You laughed weakly, then sniffled and tried to hit his shoulder, but he leaned back to avoid you, and so your hand thwacked against his chest.

The action only made him huff and puff playfully, but he grew somber at your blushing face and spoke again. “I hope they’re happy tears. The trip to Paris is looking better by the minute, hm?” You scoffed, smoothed your hands over his shoulders, then rested them on his clothed arms. Truthfully, you couldn’t answer him. It just wouldn’t be right to lie to him on his wedding day.

“I think your wife is waiting for you, Lix.” You motioned towards the beautiful, blushing girl. She went from group to group, leaving delighted smiles on her guests’ faces. Some brides would have been unsettled that their new husband was spending so much time with another girl, but not her. You weren’t a threat to her.

You never were.

Felix smiled gently, then nodded. You began to pull away, but he pulled you back, hands firm on your waist. “She is. Why don’t you give me once last dance?” He asked, and how could you say no to him?

“Sure.” You agreed almost too quickly, but Felix only grinned.

“You know I love you, right?” You nodded at his words. Of course he loved you; like a sister, like a best friend. You should love him like that, too, but you didn’t. You loved him as something more.

“I’m sorry, just one last time can we—“ you said, sighing, “like when we were kids?” Your voice was a whisper, eyes dropping to your feet as you swayed in the young man’s arms.

His grip tightened around you in silent understanding. “Like when we were kids,” he whispered back, craning his neck so you could cup his cheeks.

Simpler times. Simpler times when you promised you’d marry each other, times when you would spend the entire day trying to count his freckles, giggling and scolding him when you’d mess up because of his squirming. Days when you would run outside, playing together until the sun began to set, until you fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Simpler times, when he was yours.

It felt like only yesterday, when you were 9 years old, holding his chubby cheeks, squeezing them when he’d move too much. Your own eyes would watch his beautiful brown ones, crinkling at the corners in pure, childish joy. Your gaze would scan his cheeks, trying to count each and every dot that dusted his face. “I promise you, Lix, I’m going to find out exactly how many freckles are on your face,” you’d grit out seriously, tongue sticking out of your mouth in focus.

And again, when you were sixteen at school formals. You would sway to the music, his hands on your waist, yours on his shoulders, or vise-versa if he got too nervous to grip onto your curves. Even then you cupped his cheeks, trying and trying to count his freckles. The low lighting and soft sway of your bodies only made it harder. “Stop moving, I’m losing count!” You’d scowl.

He would only laugh or smile, whispering; “Then get closer.” You’d end up too flustered to continue, and of course that meant dancing your feelings away. It was the simpler times you would miss.

And in these final moments, you watched him carefully. You watched the sparkle in his warm, brown eyes and the way they slid smoothly across your face, as though all was right in the world.

You watched as he scrunched up his whole face when he said something ridiculous, and how he smiled brightly at you as he rambled and babbled the minutes away. But then, seemingly out of the blue, he was perfectly silent. His eyes, content and full of love—for you, now for another—met yours in a quiet promise.

This was it. His wedding day. And here you were, holding his face once last time, scanning his delicate features, memorizing them more then you already had, if at all possible.

His couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched you, his best friend, his soulmate of sorts. “Still haven’t figured it out yet?” He teased you quietly, fondness lacing his voice.

“I would’ve had it figured out already, but you never stay still.” You mirrored his grin, eyes darting around his face, finding each tiny freckle.

“Come on! It’s your last chance, nobody’s given me an exact number yet. I want you to be the first.” He smiled cheekily.

People say that everything happens for a reason. They say that your life is already mapped out, that the path to the one you’re meant to be with is already carved in stone. And yet all you could think of was the fact that you didn’t want to follow your path, not if Felix wasn’t the one waiting for you on the other side.

Thats why you had to leave, too. Thats why you had to go away, to let the past go. To let the the little girl inside of you finally find a new love.

As the song came to an end, he pecked your cheek, washing away the thoughts from behind your clouded eyes. Felix squeezed your hand lovingly, just one last time. “Have fun in Paris.”

You smiled and gave him a small shrug as his hands fell from your waist. You tried not to react, but the loss of his touch left you shivering. “Have fun in Italy,” you said, biting back even more tears.

As he moved away, you called out to him, unable to look away from stars in his eyes and the galaxy on his cheeks. “Oh, and Lix, you have 108 freckles.”

Felix stared at you for a fleeting moment, before a small smile graced his features. His finger lifted to his lips; a shushing motion. “It’ll be our little secret, then.” He winked, then threw away the invisible key. What a weirdo. Your weirdo, now her weirdo.

Felix gave you one final look, one final look that said everything words could not; ‘I see you, and I love you. Please don’t leave. I still need you, you’re my best friend.’

You watched as he shuffled over to his wife and led her to the dance floor. He pulled her into a loving kiss and gave her a look that he had never given you, the same look that you had dreamt of receiving a thousand times. Felix watched her like she was the most important thing in the world, like she was a shining star or an angel, like she was delicate and precious. Like she was his lifeline.

He looked at her the way you looked at him.

Planning weddings usually brought you joy, such joy. This was the only one that brought you something more than happiness and relief. It brought you pain and regret, too. But Felix had begged you to plan his wedding, and you had agreed, of course. You had always assumed you would plan Lee Felix’s wedding, but you had always thought that you would be the one he was marrying. That you would be his bride.

You looked back at your finest work as a wedding planner, at your finest work as a best friend. You always wanted the best for Felix, you wanted him to be happy. That would never change.

By the smile on his face, you could tell you had done just that; you had done a good job, you had made him happy. This was your final gift to him, in a way. You got to send him off into his lover’s arms.

You had grown up with Lee Felix. You had watched him grow out of his gaming phase, out of his tiktok phase, out of all his phases. You had watched him grow smarter and stronger. You had watched him grow into the stunning, breathtaking man he is today.

This was the most important day of your life.

Starting today, you had officially stepped down as Felix’s best friend. He had a new one now.

Except this time, he was in love with her, too.

“Goodbye, Felix.” You smiled softly at him, at the man who danced with his new wife, the man who spun his bride in his arms delicately, before pulling her in for a feathery kiss. The man who you had watched fall in love with someone.

Not you, but her.

You watched him, the man you had fallen in love with, the one who got away. Finally, you slipped out of the wedding. Early, too early for a best friend.

You would always love Lee Felix, but now, you needed to find your own path again. Even if Felix wasn’t the one it was leading you to, it was time.

Besides, even if Felix wasn’t the one you were going to marry, he would be there for you as a best friend, and you for him.

Always.

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#straykids changbin #straykids felix #straykids hyunjin #straykids han #straykids jeongin #straykids minho #straykids seungmin #straykids #straykids chan #straykids fanfic #straykids angst #straykids fluff #bestfriend au #wedding au #straykids i.n #straykids lee know

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shinigami-mistress · 2 years

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So, I said I wanted to try to write a Madam Red/Grell story. Here is just the first little bit of it. Hope you like it!

*****

The door to the manor opened briskly, and Angelina swept inside like a spring breeze scented with rose petals. The few servants nearby turned to look her way, and although they saw her almost daily, they paused as if to drink her visage and unabashed sexuality. She was used to it and typically drank in such attention, but in the confines of her home on such a day, it was annoying.

“Come on, Grell,” she said, “I’ll take my tea in the parlor, and I wished not to be disturbed.” The last part of her statement was directed towards the other servants.

“Yes, Madam,” Grell replied meekly. Unlike Angelina, Grell's appearance in dull, butler attire caused no real interest nor drew any attention. It was as if Grell was truly lost in Madam Red's crimson shadow.

Angelina didn't take time to ponder the irony of the situation. She retired to the parlor and sank down in a chair. Sighing deeply, she closed her eyes as she ran her hands through her. Very little surprised her, but this information was far beyond anything she could expect.

There was a crash in the hallway and Grell's sharp yelp. Angelina smiled to herself as she looked towards the door. A few moments later, the door opened and Grell slipped inside to set a disheveled tea that near Angelina before hurrying back to shut the door.

Angelina picked up one of the cups

“Did you really have to spill all the tea?”

“Would you have drank even if I hadn't spilled it?” All the meekness in the voice had melted away as if it had never existed. Grell spun around; the dull brown hair becoming as red as if her scalp was bleeding as the wild locks broke free of the meager restraint of a hair tie. The green eyes took on a hard green gold shine, and the smile revealed dangerously sharp teeth.

Madam Red inhaled sharply as her heart beat faster. No matter how many she saw Grell's true appearance, it filled her with so many conflicting emotions. Fear, excitement, desire, and even a touch of dread. All the emotions tumbled around inside, but she never gave voice to her feelings. She couldn't help but think of how they has been perceived by her staff when they had entered. Grell had been ignored - almost as if she was invisible. Had they entered as themselves, Angelina would have been the one ignored as everyone ogled the beautiful, dangerous being known as Grell. Now that their masks had been discarded, Angelina felt like that little insecure girl once more while Grell swept about the room with confidence and power. She was red death, and Angelina was her ally, her confidant, her lover…

And part of her was utterly terrified.

(Let me know if you'd like me to continue.)

#kuroshitsuji #grell sutcliff #black butler #madam red #fanfiction

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jdgo51 · 1 year

Text

Ladders from Heaven

Today's inspiration comes from:

God Never Gives Up on You

by Max Lucado

Editor's note: God never gives up on you, friend! Jacob's story reminds us even at our lowest points, God reaches down and meets us where we are. Join us for the God Never Gives Up on You Online Bible Study starting 10/23!

"'Genesis 28:10-17

You’ve had, or will have, moments of deep despair. You’ve had, or will have, hours in which your eyes weep a river, and your heart breaks into a thousand pieces. You’ve had, or will have, journeys through dry, barren stretches that will leave you exhausted and isolated.

You will feel stripped of all you cherish. You will look around and see no one to comfort you. You will search for strength, but you will search in vain, for strength will not come.

Yet in that desolate moment as you sit near the headstone and cry, on the barstool and drink, or in your bedroom and sigh, God will meet you. You will sense and see Him as never before.

Do not begrudge the barren stretches, for in the barrenness we encounter God.

We find the presence of God. Jacob did. And no one was more surprised than he.

In one fell swoop he’d tricked his brother and aging father. Rebekah, the mom of the twins, saw Esau’s rage and raced to warn Jacob. “He’s got that look in his eyes. Don’t pack a bag. Don’t grab a cloak. Don’t stop running and don’t look back.” She told him to hightail it to the land of her brother Laban and to stay there while Esau cooled down.

Jacob did exactly that. He grabbed a waterskin and filled a sack with figs and fruit and, with one final glance at his mother, mounted a camel and left. He set out from Beersheba to go to Mesopotamia (modern-day Turkey): 550 miles.1

Life was in free fall. Jacob left behind a weeping mother, a seething brother, and an aging, angry father. He had no herds. No servants to serve him. No guards to protect him. No cooks to prepare food for him. No companions. No resources.

Nada.

Jacob was raised in Fortune 500 wealth, surrounded by servants, shepherds, and slaves. His grandfather was “rich in livestock, in silver, and in gold” (Genesis 13:2). Abraham and his nephew Lot were so blessed that “the land was not able to support them... their possessions were so great that they could not dwell together” (Genesis 13:6). This affluence was passed down to Abraham’s son.

[Isaac] began to prosper, and continued prospering until he became very prosperous; for he had possessions of flocks and possessions of herds and a great number of servants. — Genesis 26:13–14

Jacob was the grandson of a baron. The son of an aristocrat. Had he lived today, he would have been raised in a mansion, pampered by servants, and educated in the finest schools. He had everything he needed. And then, from one moment to the next, he had nothing. He ran for his life, suddenly and utterly alone.

In the first two days he traveled forty-three miles from Beersheba to Bethel, a barren moorland that lay about eleven miles north of Jerusalem.2 The land through which he hiked was scorched and strewn with rocks, bleak like wasteland.

On the evening of the second day, as the sun set over a village called Luz, he stopped for the night. He did not enter the city. Perhaps its occupants were dangerous people. Perhaps Jacob was insecure. Why he stopped short of Luz is not revealed. What we are told is this:

He took one of the stones of that place and put it at his head, and he lay down in that place to sleep. — Genesis 28:11

Without so much as a bedroll for his head, he was the Bronze Age version of the prodigal son. The desert was his pigpen. But the prodigal in the parable did something Jacob did not do. “[He] came to himself” (Luke 15:17). He snapped to his senses. He looked at the pigs he was feeding, considered the life he was leading, and determined, “I will arise and go to my father” (Luke 15:18).

Jacob showed no such initiative. He made no resolve, displayed no conviction of sin, showed no remorse. Jacob did not pray, as did Jonah, or weep, as did Peter. In fact, Jacob’s lack of repentance is what makes the next scene one of the great stories of grace in the Bible.

Daylight dulled to gold. The sun slid low like a half-lidded eye. Orange gave way to ebony. Stars began to flicker. Jacob dozed, and in a dream he saw:

A ladder resting on the earth and reaching up into Heaven, and he saw angels of God going up and coming down the ladder. Then Jacob saw the Lord standing above the ladder. — Genesis 28:12–13 NCV

A ziggurat spanned the distance between Jacob’s barren, borrowed bed of dirt and Heaven’s highest, holiest dwelling. The stairway was aflurry with activity: angels ascending, angels descending. Their moving was a rush of lights, back and forth, up and down. The Hebrew wording of Jacob’s response implies raised arms and open mouth. A direct translation would be

There, a ladder! Oh, angels! And look, the Lord Himself! — Genesis 28:16, emphasis added3

When Jacob awoke, he realized that he was not alone. He’d felt alone. He’d assumed he was alone. He appeared to be alone. But he was surrounded by august citizens of heaven!

So are we.

Millions of mighty spiritual beings walk on earth around us. More than eighty thousand angels stood ready to come to the aid of Christ.4 Scripture speaks of “countless thousands of angels in a joyful gathering” (Hebrews 12:22 NLT). When John, the apostle, caught a glimpse of Heaven, he saw “ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands” (Revelation 5:11). Can you do the math on that statement? Nor can I.

Angels are to Heaven what stars are to the night sky. Too many to count!

What is their task?

All the angels are spirits who serve God and are sent to help those who will receive salvation. — Hebrews 1:14 NCV

There is never an airplane on which you travel or a classroom into which you enter that you are not preceded and surrounded by God’s mighty servants.

He has put His angels in charge of you to watch over you wherever you go. — Psalm 91:11 NCV

God Never Gives Up On You Sheila Walsh experienced the promise of the passage. At the age of thirty-four she admitted herself into a psychiatric hospital. One would not have suspected any cause for concern. Just the day prior she had cohosted a well-watched national television broadcast. Yet a storm raged within.

Eventually Sheila would be diagnosed as a victim of depression and PTSD. But on the first night no one knew what was wrong. The hospital staff placed her on suicide watch. Sheila had every reason to feel all alone. But she wasn’t.

In the early-morning hours of day two, Sheila noticed that another person had entered her room. She had been sitting for hours with her head buried in her lap. Upon sensing the presence of the visitor, she lifted her gaze. The visitor was part of the suicide watch, she assumed. But something was different. He was a strong man with tender eyes. As her mind tried to process who he might be, the man placed something in her hands — a small stuffed toy: a lamb. He told her, “Sheila, the Shepherd knows where to find you.” And with that her guest was gone.

God had sent an angel to her.

Around six that morning Sheila awoke to the sound of orderlies entering her room. She had fallen asleep on the floor. There at the foot of her folding chair was the lamb the man had delivered hours before.5

Jacob was not given a lamb, but he was given Heaven’s comfort. The message of the vision could not be clearer: when we are at our lowest, God is watching over us from the highest. Between us stretches a conduit of grace upon which messengers carry out His will.

These angels convey our prayers into God’s presence. In the apostle John’s vision, he saw an

Angel, carrying a gold censer, [who] came and stood at the Altar. He was given a great quantity of incense so that he could offer up the prayers of all the holy people of God on the Golden Altar before the Throne. — Revelation 8:3–4 The Message

As God hears our petitions, He responds with thunder!

Then the Angel filled the censer with fire from the Altar and heaved it to earth. It set off thunders, voices, lightnings, and an earthquake. — Revelation 8:5 The Message

Our prayers have a thermostatic impact upon the actions of Heaven.

Mothers, when you pray for your child... Husbands, when you ask for healing in your marriage... Children, when you kneel at your bed before going to sleep... Citizens, when you pray for your country... Pastors, when you pray for the members of your church...

Your prayers trigger the ascension of angels and the downpour of power!

Jacob saw heavenly activity. One might well wonder why God would pull back the veil and show Jacob the hosts that surrounded him. After all, Jacob had not sought God. Yet what Jacob saw scarcely compares with what Jacob heard. You’d expect a lecture, a holy scolding. But God gave Jacob something altogether different. God told Jacob that he would make him and his descendants a great people who would cover the earth. Despite Jacob’s deception and shortcuts, God repeated to him the blessing he gave Abraham and Isaac:

I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go, and I will bring you back to this land. I will not leave you. — Genesis 28:15 NIV

The fugitive had not been abandoned. The trickster had not been cast aside. God committed Himself to the lifelong care of Jacob.

Again we might wonder why. Had Jacob done anything to show he was worthy of the blessing? No. Jacob had done nothing but slimy stuff thus far. He leaked integrity like a sieve. He played his brother like a two-dollar fiddle. He worked the system like a riverboat gambler. There is, thus far, not one mention of Jacob in prayer, Jacob in faith, or Jacob in earnest pursuit of God.

Even so, God drenched His undeserving fugitive with a Niagara of unexpected kindness.

God did not turn away from one who had turned away from Him. He was faithful. He still is.

If we are faithless, He remains faithful. — 2 Timothy 2:13 NIV"'

John H. Walton, Genesis: The NIV Application Commentary (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2001), 570. Donald Grey Barnhouse, Genesis: A Devotional Exposition (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1971), 2:83. Kent Hughes, Genesis: Beginning and Blessing (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2004), 359. “Do you suppose that I cannot appeal to My Father, and He will immediately provide Me with more than twelve legions [more than 80,000] of angels?” (Matt. 26:53 ampc). Adapted from Jack Graham, Angels: Who They Are, What They Do, and Why It Matters (Minneapolis, MN: Bethany House, 2016), 111–12.

This one is quite lengthy, Max got motivated and went on long. Sometimes its okay to read longer narratives. In this case it is worth it. Joe (posting this)

Excerpted with permission from God Never Gives Up on You by Max Lucado, copyright Max Lucado.

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alectoperdita · 2 years

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Nothing comes free (13352 words) by Alecto Chapters: 2/3 Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jounouchi Katsuya | Joey Wheeler/Kaiba Seto Characters: Jounouchi Katsuya | Joey Wheeler, Kaiba Seto Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Power Imbalance, Separation Anxiety, Existential Crisis, Sex as Coping Mechanism, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Explicit Sexual Content, Master/Pet, Degradation, Name-Calling, Rough Sex, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Breeding Kink, Dirty Talk, Somnophilia, Semi-Public Sex, Bathroom Sex, Spit As Lube, Masochism, Sex Toys, Butt Plugs, Blindfolds, Predicament Bondage, Spreader Bars, Collars, Rough Oral Sex, Face-Fucking, Deepthroating, Breathplay, Comeplay, Possessive Sex, Possessive Kaiba Seto, Kaiba Seto Being an Asshole, Blackmail

Series: Part 14 of Lure

Summary:

He thought he'd be ecstatic to not be at Kaiba's constant beck and call. And he was, for a short while, until a familiar-new-old worry reared its head.

Adrift and lacking purpose, Jounouchi tries to adjust to life after graduation. "Tries" being the operative word.

🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪

A soft brush against his elbow nearly startled him a second time. He stared at the slender fingers, nails painted with pastel pink polish, that barely touched his skin.

"Since you're friends with Kaiba-san, are you a fellow prince?" she asked and fluttered her long, curled eyelashes. "What's your name?"

"Jounouchi," he could only reply dumbly. His poor brain was still struggling to catch up.

Her smile widened, emphasizing the pout of her ruby lips. "Jounouchi-san, I'm done with classes for the day. Would you like to get coffee together?"

Oh, a "carnivorous woman." He should've known from the way she dressed and talked. While he thought of himself as the furthest from a "herbivorous man," he felt like one now—off-balanced and skittish. In his defense, it'd been literally months since a girl spoke to him in a vaguely friendly manner. Even longer since he last flirted with one.

#series: Lure #puppyshipping #violetshipping #kaijou #yugioh #my fanfiction #this chapter is mostly smut #as is the third chapter #they have been getting along pretty well in the last few stories but Jounouchi can't let his guard down #i feel utterly insecure about this story *sigh*#*grits teeth and chants* i'm allowed to write a bad sentence or three #or even a subpar transition

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nomicskeleton · 2 years

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I have a idea for requests (if u comfortable with)! Its angsty but not at same time. Albedo/Xiao/Kazuha (if you comfortable with) shy s/o accidently confess them after that s/o crys and appologies bcs s/o thinks they will never ever any gets love. I hope u will ve have nice day or night or evening :3

DIDN'T MEAN TO SAY 'I LOVE YOU'

pairings: albedo, xiao x shy gn! reader

genres: angst to fluff

warning: insecurities, anxiety, crying, mentions of blood and bruises, all lowercase

(a/n): anon, y'know that i live for angst stories (cuz i'm a masochist) so i'm glad that someone finally requested this genre :") sorry that i won't include kazuha here cuz i'm running outta idea??hh and.. i don't like how this thread turns out tho but ANYWAY, HOPE YOU LIKE THIS AND SORRY FOR WAITING TOO LONG

ALBEDO:

who didn't adore this alchemist? aside from being an alchemy prodigy, he mastered the art so well. he indeed was such a talented being.

you had developed a crush on him a long time ago but you never dared to confess it since you felt your feeling would be a burden on him.

one day when you were trying to make your way to albedo's lab on dragonspine, a herd of hilichurls suddenly ambushed you.

being a person that didn't master any weapon and didn't receive a vision, you started overthinking if this was your end.

but the sound of blade thrusting and painful yelps of the hilichurls boomed your ears as you slowly watched over just to see them laying on a thick duvet of snow and dissipating in the air.

you couldn't help but let the tears out in terrified. not because of your knight in shining armor—albedo—killing monsters in front of you, but you were just too scared of the situation you were in.

"are you all right?" the blonde offered you his gloved hand.

you looked at him, tears brimming your eyes. the alchemist looked so ethereal with his glimmering teal eyes and ashy blond locks dancing in the freezing air of dragonspine.

why are you so pretty and strong? you make me fall in love again, you thought and soon saw a faint blush creep up the alchemist's cheeks. your eyes widened after a minute passed, you didn't just say that out loud right?!

you didn't spare a second for albedo to speak as you rambled panically about how you were so sorry to confess, that you were not worthy of receiving his love, and such.

"y/n," albedo cupped your cheeks, making you stop rambling. seeing you trembling made his chest twist. "who said that you're not worthy, hm? i'm glad that you reciprocate my feeling."

your world stopped, utterly shocked from the words albedo had uttered. the alchemist read your expression as a sigh and small smile plastered on his mouth, the blush on his face remained. "yes, y/n. i love you too." he spoke, rubbing your blushing cheeks with his thumbs. "now, let's go to my camp. it's freezing."

XIAO:

when he rescued you from a herd of treasure hoarders, your heart skipped a beat seeing his swift and strong movements. within a brief moment, he could take down the herd and your jaw dropped in awe.

the moment his sharp golden irises landed on your e/c ones, you felt your fear and panic feelings were now replaced by a foreign feeling. your heart was drumming that you were scared he might hear it.

"call my name—adeptus xiao, if you need help." as he said that, the mist surrounded him and his figure was nowhere to be found.

when you visited wangshu inn for delivering stuff, you decided to get some fresh air after a long day of work. as you went upstairs, your eyes widened at the sight of xiao's back. he was standing on the balcony, facing the illuminating moon.

your eyes lit in excitement and you called him, making his head turn around. you suddenly felt awkward but tried to make some small talk anyway. to your surprise, he just gave you short replies and sounded annoyed and cold. heartbroken? yes, pretty much since he seemed to not enjoy your encounter.

verr goldet noticed and told you that was his usual self. she tried to cheer you up and said almond tofu was the best option to summon him.

it turned out right. the sight of his cheeks puffing as he munched the tofu delightfully made you want to run laps. your visits to wangshu inn were more often despite him telling you not to call him if it wasn't necessary, but he still came though.

one time when you summoned him and he appeared in front of you, you were surprised at his state. cuts and blood stained his skin, the look on his face obviously told you that he was in hurt even though he tried to hide the pain.

"no need to be so dramatic, i received these occasionally. not a big deal." xiao whipped his head away as you tried to treat his wounds.

"h-how can i be not upset when the person i like gets hurt—" you immediately shut up realizing what you just spoke.

xiao slowly turned at you as you started to feel embarrassed. "what...?" he whispered.

you stuttered out several apologies and instantly walked off, but xiao could still hear you mumble "i don't deserve you".

the adeptus was taken aback, he realized that you both shared somehow a similar mindset but the small sparking weird feeling in his heart said otherwise. he wanted to tell you that you were worthy and need not be so unconfident. he teleported in front of you and froze at his spot while facing your shocked face.

"i... enjoy your company." he spoke with a low voice, face burning red and his eyes looking down. "so, don't say that."

xiao disappeared through the mist as soon he finished his words. you were left there dumbfounded, didn't believe what he just spoke. your heart drummed so rapidly as his words repeated in your mind like a broken radio.

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin fluff #genshin x you #albedo x reader #albedo x gender neutral reader #albedo hcs #albedo fluff #xiao x reader #xiao x gender neutral reader #xiao hcs #xiao fluff #albedo angst #xiao angst

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kaeyazuha · 2 years

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𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲, 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

❝ can i please have zhongli x reader where reader feels unlovable bc of past relationships?? love ur work! 💓 ❞

; I apologize for the wait, writer's block hitting hard- I hope you like it!

; 7/7/22

; Fluff/Comfort

; CW: physical touch, crying, insecurities, hints towards past trauma, etc.

He was the perfect boyfriend, really. Despite forgetting his wallet on a few dates and having an unfortunate hobby of reminiscing about stories you’ve practically memorized with how many times he’d told them, he always kept you at the forefront of his mind. Despite that, you found yourself shrinking away in his presence. When his hand would reach out to you, you’d instinctively pull back. When he smiled at you so lovingly, you convinced yourself he was thinking about the past again. His kindness seemed to mock you as you remained stuck behind a wall of built-up traumas and bad memories, the cracks poorly filled with bits and pieces of your heart. This was no fault of yours, nor was it a fault of his, yet the both of you still suffered the consequences.

You found yourself keeping him at arms length from the moment he asked if he could call you his, as he is yours. And as much as you wanted to hold him ever closer, feel his heartbeat against yours, watch him smile when you say those three special words and watch him frown whenever you had to leave for a commission, you couldn’t. Not without hearing voices that didn’t belong to you curse you out and ridicule you for the feelings you had, not without feeling them mock you just as they did in the past. It was ridiculous, you wanted to chide; still being stuck on people you haven’t seen in years. But unlike an embarrassing childhood memory, you didn’t remain glued to these memories because they were fun to think about. Rather, they stuck to you like tar, and blinded you with its mocking smile-- because those memories scared you.

And he knew it. You could tell from the way he stared at you so sadly whenever you sat so far away from him, how his hand wavered cautiously when it reached for yours, the bitten-back sigh he wanted to release whenever you pulled away from an embrace, he knew from the way you treated yourself like someone unworthy and he knew from the way you convinced yourself he didn’t love you. Maybe he just tolerated you, maybe he was with you for kicks and giggles, maybe he never loved you in the first pla--

“(Y/n).” Ah, there it was, the disappointed tone you’d been expecting. Any minute now, he’d try and call it quits, maybe he’d just leave without a trac-- “Please, stop thinking. It’s rather obvious when your mind’s got you in a snare.” Zhongli sighed and caught your chin between his curled index finger and his thumb, lightly guiding your head to face his concerned yet calm expression. He felt warm to the touch, his scent paralleled the comforting aroma of rose petals with a hint of saffron. You found yourself lost in his presence, resting your hand atop his and reveling in the feeling of his thumb stroking your cheek. He fell silent for a moment, simply taking in the sight of you for a moment before speaking once more. Shyly, quietly, but fervently.

“Am I doing something wrong, dear?” You looked up with a panicked look, utterly horrified that he was under such an impression, but he pressed a finger to your lips as a sign to let him continue. “You seem to avoid me in many ways despite us being together, and I want nothing more than for you to be happy. If this arrangement of ours brings you displeasure or, heaven forbid, discomfort, please tell me. Of course I don’t want us to…separate, but you are and always will be my first priority.” Zhongli finished his words with a quick breath, almost appearing nervous despite his calm and level-headed tone. You tilted your head away from his finger, fiddling with your shirt and letting out a sigh (your heart pounded wildly at his words, but you ignored it for now.)

“No, no, it’s not that! Ah…” Sheepishly, you scratched at the back of your neck. Archons, this was hard to say- like thorns clawed their way up your throat and tried to force themselves out through a locked jaw. “It’s…just hard to feel like I’m loved. It’s hard to believe after…everything. This isn’t your fault at all, you’re a wonderful boyfriend, it’s just- I--” You groaned in frustration, knocking your head back and squeezing your eyes shut. Zhongli simply hummed, reaching for your hands that clenched into fists and holding them within his own securely.

“It’s just that you don’t believe that my love could be for you?” He inquired curiously, attempting to finish your sentence. You nodded vigorously, too afraid to look him in the eye. Now you’ve done it, this was the last straw, no? Who’d want to stick around after hearing that? The silence frightened you, and curiously, you peeked up at him; only to find the saddest pair of eyes you’d ever seen staring back into yours. You panicked, waving your hands around and fumbling for an apology, but he beat you to it.

“I’m sorry, my dear. For all that has happened to you in the past, for all the selfish bastards that tried to ruin you, and for not seeing this sooner. Please, don’t blame yourself.” Zhongli smiled warmly, stroking a hand over your cheek and then under your jaw before bringing you into his arms. You gasped at first, and then melted into the warm embrace. The light scent of warmth and comfort tickled your nose when you buried your face into his coat, hot tears burning at your eyes once more. “It’s alright, let it out. I have absolutely no intention of letting you go as long as you’ll have me.”

“You…don’t plan to leave?” The feeling of tears sticking from your cheek to his shirt no longer bothered you as the sound and feeling of your ever-beating heart drowned out the sensation, and you dug your fingers into the folds of his shirt before crumpling it into your hands as a way to ground yourself. “You’re not upset?”

He looked more puzzled than anything, pained expression now morphed into one of utter astoundment and almost amusement when he looked at you. “No? Goodness, my beloved, I could never.” Zhongli pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, stroking your back with his free hand. “I’ll just work twice as hard until you can say with a certainty that you know I love you, and that you are loved. It will take time, I’m sure, but we have time. Tomorrow, the day after, and then the decades that come after that, time is on our side and I intend to keep it that way.” You bit down on your lip, smiling quietly to yourself while mumbling out small ‘thank you’s,’ though most of them sounded like incoherent mutterings.

“I truly, sincerely love you, (Y/n).”

“I’ll repeat that as many times as needed with both my words and actions until the day comes when you know and believe it’s true.”

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚✧˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Word Count: 1169

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚✧˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

- Ky♡♡

𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧; 𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺 𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝘀𝗸 𝘁𝗼 𝗷𝗼𝗶𝗻!

bold cannot be tagged

@storytravelled ; @irethepotato ; @euphoric-author ; @lordbugs ; @straymoon96 ; @hoshikistarlette ; @lianglee11 ; @sup-zfam ; @myaaki ; @roriver ; @rizakari ; @httpshaolvr ; @leena-shii ; @kaerui-kaisen ; @akaiyuki ; @marigold-petals ; @frenchtoaf ;

#kywrites #zhongli hcs #zhongli x you #zhongli fluff #zhongli headcanons #zhongli x gn!reader #zhongli x gender neutral reader #genshin fluff #genshin comfort #genshin scenarios #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin hcs #genshin imagines #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #genshin x you

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captains-simp · 3 years

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can you do a fic where reader unintentionally breaks one of the rules by accident so she has to be punished but the punishment is being ignored by BOTH wanda AND nat and reader is uncomfortable with being ignored because it makes her feel invisible and like she's a ghost so like this is what happens, reader breaks a rule in front of wanda and nat but reader doesn't realize she broke a rule but wanda and nat punish reader without telling reader first, and they punish her by not acknowledging her presence and stuff then reader just breaks and starts crying and stuff, she's really upset until nat and wanda cave in and see what's wrong with reader because they didnt know that reader didnt realize she broke a rule and her punishment was being ignored by them

also nat is dom, wanda is switch (like wanda is sub to nat but dom to reader) and reader is sub also nat, wanda and reader are in a poly dom/sub relationship and dating

Oh my god is this ✨smut with a developed storyline✨?

Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanoff ~ 3rd Wheel

Warnings: debatable toxic traits, feelings of abandonment and unlove, fingering, praise, oral and hints of overstimulation

2.4k words

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You giggled as Sam made stupid sound effects every time he paused in telling his story. You were pretty sure the story wasn’t true but hearing him tell it was entertaining enough. He put his hand on your forearm as he laughed at his own comeback to some apparently ‘very real’ character in the story and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him. That was until your other arm was grabbed and pulled you to your feet.

“It’s late, we should go.” Natasha said curtly. You nodded and said goodbye to Sam with a tight hug and followed after the Russian as Wanda joined her at her side.

“How did your meeting go?” You teased the redheads. Officially, what you had just attended was a party. Unofficially, it was a chance for Natasha and Wanda to gather more intel for a future mission that they had been working on for months. Tony, to no one’s surprise, was more than happy to help by hosting the party and it was just like any other to everyone else. You had missed your girlfriend’s company at first, but had eventually started socializing with the others and the night had flown by.

When you were met with silence you assumed you didn’t hear either of their responses over the music so you sped up your steps slightly to stick close by. Once you got to the car you knew they were in a bad mood. It was one thing when one of them was mad but both of them was a whole other storm. Not that it was always bad. Sometimes they would take that anger out on you in the bedroom and you had secretly been dying to be fucked like that for a while.

You tried to make conversation a few times, telling the pair about Sam’s story and how it was probably about as real as fairies but they still didn’t respond. Of course, you had no idea that these things were just making them madder and that Wanda and Natasha were communicating silently most of the time, discussing the meeting as they ignored you. You gave up eventually and gazed out the window as you fiddled with the fabric of your dress.

Once you were home things only seemed to get worse. “I made dinner before we left.” You said as you looked under the grill to find that the three served plates were still fine and put them on the counter. You had cooked before getting ready because you knew your girlfriends were busy and were going to be hungry when they got home. You glanced at the two women to see Natasha undoing her girlfriend’s zipper and placing a soft kiss between her shoulder blades. You smiled at the tender site.

“Hey, where’s my kiss?” You teased as Natasha started towards the bedroom but shouldered right past you. You looked to Wanda but she didn’t spare you a glance either as she strolled through the apartment to your shared bedroom. You watched them go with a dry mouth and dragged yourself to the bathroom where you struggled to undo the zipper of your dress before finally succeeding after five minutes of struggling and sore arms. One of the redheads usually did it for you before you could even think to ask.

You stepped into the shower and tried to focus on the feeling of the hot water running down your body, hoping it would distract you from the dull ache near your heart. It didn’t work. You wondered if you had done anything to annoy them at the party but could think of nothing. With a disgruntled sigh, you turned off the water and stepped out of the safety of the shower. You quickly dried off and tiptoed to your now-empty bedroom to change into your pajamas.

When you went back into the kitchen you found only one of the plates was left. You glanced over at the living area to see Wanda and Natasha curled up together on the couch under a blanket as they watched TV and ate the food you made. They could have at least warmed mine up. You grumbled to yourself as you put it in the microwave and made yourself a drink. You trudged over to the couch but Wanda extended her legs to cover the free space just as you were about to sit down. You looked up at them both but their eyes were still glued to the TV.

You sat down tentatively on the armchair closest to the couch and started taking small bites of your food. You weren’t paying attention to the screen at all. Instead, your eyes kept flickering to the two redheads curled up on the couch together. They looked so warm and tender laying together. You wished so desperately you could be with them, but instead you just felt like an outsider. That had always been a big insecurity for you. Wanda and Natasha were both Avengers and you were just a normal citizen. You often wondered if you ever felt like a burden, the weak part of their relationship. You could never understand their lives the way they could, you could only watch. Usually, you would voice your concerns and insecurities to them and they would assure you to no end that they loved you more than anything. However speaking had gotten you nowhere that night, so you kept it to yourself.

You sat in the living room for hours. You wanted to go to bed so badly. You were utterly exhausted and your eyes were starting to hurt from the lights in the room you wanted to be shielded from. But you were determined not to go until the other two did. You wanted to be curled up between them both like you always were. You wanted to feel safe and secure and most of all loved.

Finally, Natasha turned off the television and stretched out like a cat on the couch before standing and making her way to the bedroom, leading Wanda by the hand. You put your uneaten plate of food on the side to deal with the next day, too tired to even think about it at that moment. The pair instantly dropped down into bed and Natasha held Wanda tightly as she rested her head on the Russian’s chest. You gazed down at them longingly but forced yourself into bed besides them. You reached out your hand to tug weakly on their shirts, desperate for any kind of acknowledgement but received none. You withdrew your hand and held it up to your chest as you watched the pair. How long had they been craving time to themselves?

You slowly got out from under the covers and left the room without feeling their usual fond gazes on your back. You lingered in the hallway before glancing back and saw Natasha tracing circles on Wanda’s back. You gulped back tears and made your way to the spare bedroom where you slept alone for the first time in months.

You didn’t get up until lunch the next day. You didn’t feel like doing anything, especially not facing your girlfriend. You wanted to stay out of their way to give them the alone time they so clearly needed.

When you had finally dragged yourself out of bed and into the hallway you froze. Wanda’s moans could be heard clearly from your bedroom followed by sharp cries of Natasha’s name. You stood rooted to the spot as the pain in your chest grew worse. Since they had so keenly invited you into their relationship. The pair had never once done anything sexual without you. At first you had been flattered and insisted that you were okay if they wanted to do things by themselves every once in a while but eventually you had grown used to how things were. You had grown used to being included in everything.

Numbly, you made yourself a hot chocolate in hopes of it raising your spirits. Not long after you had finished, your girlfriends came wandering into the kitchen with a new glow.

“Do you want a drink?” You piped up, you could at least be helpful. Wanda grabbed something from the fridge as Natasha took out a glass from the cupboard and spun around to kiss her girlfriend on the lips with a soft giggle. Wanda smiled against her and hummed when Natasha’s tongue teased the Sokovian’s lower lip.

“I love you.” Natasha hummed and Wanda smiled with a blush as she said the words back.

“I- I love you too.” You added and took a desperate step towards them both, holding out your hands to them but they separated and started to stroll back into the living room. You watched on as tears sprung to your eyes. They didn’t say it back. They always said it back. “Please.” You whispered though you may have well have been talking to a wall. You whimpered quietly and weakly made your way to the guest room where you closed the door and fell down onto the bed, not being able to stop the tears streaming down your face. You curled up on yourself and hugged your duvet as close to your body as possible, needing something to cling onto like a lifeline.

You didn’t hear the door open through your muffled weeping. You did feel the gentle pair of hands on your waist and the dip in the bed either side of you. Your head shot up and you looked between the pair in panic, fearing they were going to tell you to go elsewhere for the day or even forever. Wanda shushed you softly and held your dampened cheeks in her hands.

“It’s okay, honey.” Wanda cooed and you whimpered as you tried to enjoy what you assumed was the last time she would hold you. “We’re not going anywhere and neither are you.” You peered at her cautiously and then Natasha who nodded gently.

“We’re sorry, baby. Sam was getting a little too handsy last night and you didn’t seem to notice.” Natasha explained carefully. You remembered the brief moment he had touched your waist and frowned at the memory.

“And you know letting people touch what isn’t theirs is breaking a rule.” You nodded slowly as Wanda added on.

“So your punishment was being ignored by us so you could learn but we took it too far.” Natasha admitted.

“And we never told you what was happening. We’re so sorry we made you feel this way, sweetie. We love you so much.” Wanda said as she kissed you softly on the lips as Natasha lay down behind you and wrapped her arms protectively around your waist.

“So so much.” She added.

“Promise?” You asked and Wanda lay down to join you and wipe your tears away.

“Always.”

“Let us show you.” Natasha whispered against your neck and you nodded as she rolled you gently onto your back and began planting soft kisses along your neck, occasionally lingering on patches of skin to suck dark bruises into them. Wanda titled your head towards you and kissed you slowly, cherishing the taste of you and wanting to reclaim all that she could.

Natasha’s hands started to wander down your stomach and landed at the hem of your sweatpants that she easily surpassed along with your panties. You gasped when you felt her fingers run along your folds and up to your clit. You bucked your hips and moaned against Wanda when she applied some pressure, all while the Sokovian started to retrace her girlfriend’s steps by running her hands across your breasts. Her thumbs brushed against your hardened nipples and she hummed against you.

Natasha finally pushed two fingers past your folds and relished in the slick that coated them instantly. She curled them gently inside you and withdrew to start about making a consistent pace that had you melting beneath them both.

“That’s it, sweetie.” Wanda assured in the most loving tone you had ever heard from her.

“Taking me so well. Our best girl.” Natasha hummed and withdrew her fingers. You whined softly but shushed when Natasha brought her fingers up to Wanda’s lips and slid them inside. The Sokovian hummed in delight around Natasha’s fingers, eagerly licking her slender digits before retreating to start down your body, determined to gain an unfiltered taste.

Wanda pulled your sweatpants and panties off completely and kissed up your thighs softly, taking her time in treasuring you just as Natasha had done with your neck. She gleamed at the sight before her and didn’t hesitate to lick a long strip between your folds. You mewled in Natasha’s hold as Wanda moaned against you. “Always so sweet.” She dipped her tongue inside of you and you clenched around her muscle with a gasp.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good for us.” Natasha praised softly as she started to rub your clit with her free hand. You bucked against both their movements, feeling beautifully overwhelmed by it all. Wanda’s tongue flicked inside you and you moaned loudly into the air, tempting Natasha to quieten you with a kiss while your other girlfriend continued to work between your legs that were beginning to shake.

“Please.” You whined as you felt your high approaching. The pair smiled at one another as they continued to please you.

“I can feel you clenching my tongue.” Wanda mused.

“Go ahead and cum for us, baby.” You did as you were told without a second’s delay. You moaned loudly into the air as you shuddered against the bed and came undone on Wanda’s tongue. The pair helped you ride out your high and into another orgasm relentlessly. They didn’t let up, making you cum again and once more, leaving you feeling utterly exhausted and overworked.

“That’s it, darling. You did so good for us.” Wanda praised as she fell down besides you and they both held you protectively.

“We love you.” Natasha muttered softly and you smiled.

“I love you both too.” You hummed, enjoying the warmth of your girlfriends’ comfort.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Taglist: @freewaysigns-underpasses @caroldanvers2 @marvelwomenslut @marvelwomen-simp @likefirenrain @grxvitye @emilyprentisslittlewhore @lostandsearching @firenrain13 @horcruxhunter90 @mrs-avenger3000 @nightingalxx @sky-kim-00 @yeeterthekeeper @didujustcallmedumb @ymzki-haruki @uno-x-uno

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#natasha romanoff imagines #wanda maximoff imagines #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #wanda x natasha #wanda x nat x reader

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beyourownanchor6 · 2 years

Text

it's the feeling of you that makes me feel safest

day 1: where have you been

rated g | 2.4k words| read on ao3

summary:

“Hi mads.”

“Hey, is everything ok? You’re up late.”

Oh sure, I just hate being alone, and I’m worried that something happened to Eddie, so I’m just sitting here spiraling, just your typical night.

“Yea, just-just can’t sleep. And I—wanted to hear your voice.”

I needed to hear your voice because you’re the only other person in the world who can calm me down and make me feel safe when the love of my life isn’t around.

He could almost feel Maddie’s smug smile through the phone, though she decided to give him a break, changing topics.

“Do you remember when you were about seven, I was sixteen, and I snuck you out to the movies to go see She’s All That?”

-or-

Buck has some late night conversations with Maddie and Eddie

——————————————————————————

Buck rolled over for what felt like the hundredth time, sighing heavily as he did so. The loft was too quiet, while his mind was anything but. He’d always had insomnia, though some nights seemed to be worse, and this was definitely one of those nights.

He’d been lying in bed tossing and turning for over an hour now, sleep nowhere in sight. He felt utterly restless, though he couldn’t get himself to move from the bed. The clock told him that Eddie still had at least another hour on shift, depending how things went; their shifts were never set in stone. Buck desperately wanted to hear his voice, needed his boyfriend by his side. Something about Eddie always grounded him.

They’d been together for a few months now, both of them taking some time to be single and work on themselves first. It was a process of course, both of them still attending therapy regularly. Things had become less tense as of late, the two of them getting through the days with a little more ease.

Most nights were spent at the Diaz house, though they would stay at Buck’s loft every now and again whenever Chris was at a sleepover, tonight being one of those nights. He knew Eddie wouldn’t be home until late, or really early depending on how you looked at it, but the waiting never got any easier; he hated when they worked opposite shifts. In hindsight, he should’ve just told Eddie he’d meet at his house, but Buck didn’t want to overstay his welcome there. Sure, they were together now, having talked about the shooting a few times over, but Buck was still, well—Buck. His insecurities hadn’t suddenly gone away. Buck didn’t want to seem ‘too needy’, especially considering their relationship was still so new.

Buck knew that Eddie didn’t actually think that about him, but he’d heard those words too many times now for them not be engrained in his mind. Eddie had never said he minded Buck being in his space, but Buck didn’t want to push his luck.

He didn’t miss Taylor, had never wanted her to move in in the first place, though he couldn’t help but to miss the company. Not that she was home all that often, and when she was, she usually had her nose in some story. Even so, Buck reveled in the thought that he got to come home to someone every day, their things littered all about. Well, if he were being honest with himself, Eddie’s things were scattered all over his place, Chris’ too, Buck knowing he’d left his fair share of things at the Diaz’ over the years. Still, it wasn’t the same as having someone there permanently.

Opening his phone, Buck scrolled through various YouTube videos, moving onto TikTok, one of the videos inevitably leading him to his favorite web page, Wikipedia.

After scrolling through a few things, Buck couldn’t help but to pull up his message chain with Eddie, sending one of them off.

Buck: did you know that when cows are isolated from their companions, they get separation anxiety? 🐮

Buck didn’t mention that this was how he felt, though Eddie would probably read right through it anyway; he should’ve sent off the cute fact about seahorses.

When he didn’t hear from Eddie after a while, Buck found himself sulking once more, still unable to reach sleep. He had to remind himself that Eddie was busy with work and not stuck forty feet below earth, or laying in a pool of his own blood on the open street. Buck shivered for the thought. Therapy was helping yes, though it didn’t mean he never worried. Eddie was one of the most important people in his life; he hadn’t been ready to lose him either of those times, and he certainly wasn’t now.

He could call Chris, knew the kid would answer, though he didn’t want to upset him and make the kid wonder if something had happened—again. Bringing up his photos, Buck scrolled through them, smiling at all the memories. Most of them were of Chris and Eddie, Jee right up there with them. The three of them truly owned Buck’s whole heart, Maddie too.

Sitting up again, Buck opened up his second most used message chain, sending a text off to his sister, asking if she was at work; her reply came in the form of a phone call.

“Hi mads.”

“Hey, is everything ok? You’re up late.”

Oh sure, I just hate being alone, and I’m worried that something happened to Eddie, so I’m just sitting here spiraling, just your typical night.

“Yea, just-just can’t sleep. And I—wanted to hear your voice.”

I needed to hear your voice because you’re the only other person in the world who can calm me down and make me feel safe when the love of my life isn’t around.

He could almost feel Maddie’s smug smile through the phone, though she decided to give him a break, changing topics.

“Do you remember when you were about seven, I was sixteen, and I snuck you out to the movies to go see She’s All That?”

Buck chuckled just for the memory. “Yea Mads I remember. I’m pretty sure that movie was my sexual awakening because I couldn’t decide if Laney or Zack was prettier.” He’d thought they were both beautiful in their own way, and couldn’t understand why he had to pick one gender versus the other.

“Yes, I remember you begging for one of my Freddie Prinze Jr. posters after that, which of course I gave you because I’m the best big sister.”

Even though Maddie couldn’t see him, Buck rolled his eyes; he couldn’t disagree.

“Man, mom and dad were so pissed when I hung that on my wall.” Buck laughed it off as he always did, though he could tell how much it upset Maddie, even through the phone.

“Evan, you should’ve been able to put whoever you wanted on your walls. That’s what I told you, and mom and dad even back then. You’re allowed to be you and love whoever you want.”

“They would’ve hated anything I put on the walls. They were always trying to find a way to criticize me.”

“Evan.” Maddie drawled out his name, Buck finally sighing as he gave in.

“I know I’m allowed to love whoever I want, ok? I just, I wish they cared enough to understand that.”

Buck had never officially told his parents that he was bisexual, though he guessed they probably figured it out over the years when he came home from dates with both girls and boys dropping him off, most of them ending in some sort of kiss. He never bothered telling them because he figured they didn’t care, or would just tell him something hateful like, ‘it’s just a phase son.’

“Well, I just want you to know that I’m proud of you for always being you. You’re going to give me a hard attack one day with all your injuries, but I still love you.”

“I love you too Mads. Thanks for—just for loving me.”

He could almost feel Maddie’s smile radiating through the phone, tears no doubt lining her eyes, just as they were for Buck.

“So, tell me, are you waiting at yours or Eddie’s for him to come home?”

Was he that obvious? Probably.

“Mine, but I wished I’d gone to his.”

Maddie clicked away on her keyboard, Buck finding something about the sound soothing.

“And why is that?”

He let another sigh fall out as he rolled to his side, bringing the sleeve of his—well Eddie’s— hoodie up so he could inhale his favorite scent.

“I just—it doesn’t really feel like a home here, you know?”

“Because Taylor was there, or?”

If he was being honest with himself, he’d felt that way long before he’d asked her to move in.

“No? I mean that didn’t help I guess, but I’ve just never felt—comfortable here, like I belong.”

“And how do you feel at Eddie’s house?”

Words he’d said long ago echoed through his mind, Maddie probably remembering them too since she’d been the one he’d uttered them to.

‘This is Eddie’s house; I’m not really a guest.’

“Like I belong, like I just—fit. Is that…weird?”

“Not at all. It’s the same way I felt when I first moved into Chims. That big house I moved into when I first arrived always felt empty; there was no love inside of it.”

And yea, Buck thought he understood that perfectly; the Diaz house was full of nothing but love.

They talked for a while longer, Buck finally dozing off after a time, waking a tad groggily when he felt fingers brushing through his curls. He instantly recognized the touch, leaning into it as he reached up to grab Eddie at the wrist.

“Where have you been?”

He said it a tad more harshly than he’d meant, his current sleep state of mind taking over for him. Eddie only chuckled, bending down to place a kiss over his birthmark.

“I was at work baby, remember? Had a big accident at the end that kept me longer.”

Buck turned to his back so he could look up at Eddie who was hovered over him on his side of the bed.

“Well, I missed you,” Buck couldn’t help but to say, pouting out his lower lip.

Eddie raised his thumb to swipe over his pout, placing a kiss to it after.

“I missed you too. Were you feeling a little like the cows?”

Buck furrowed his brows for a moment before he remembered, groaning as he went to bury his face in his pillow, mumbling into it.

“I should’ve told you the stupid seahorse fact.”

Eddie laid down next to him, pulling Buck to him as he tucked in behind him, wrapping him up tight. “Well, how about you tell me now,” Eddie said as he linked their fingers together at Buck’s front.

“Just that, seahorse’s mate for life.”

Buck twisted in Eddie’s hold so he could face him, looking right into those deep browns of his.

“Yea,” Eddie asked, “how does that work?”

“Well, they meet early in the morning, there’s a whole ceremony, and they change colors and everything. It can last for up to an hour!”

Eddie used the back of his hand to brush over Buck’s face, causing his eyelids to flutter.

“You wanna talk about whatever’s bothering you?”

“Who said anything was bothering me?”

Eddie gave him a stern look, one that came with raised brows.

“Because I know you, and you only stay up late doing research binges when you can’t sleep.”

And well, that was fair.

“I just—I don’t like it here. I—it doesn’t feel like a home. I don’t think it ever did.”

Eddie studied him for a moment too long, Buck wondering if he’d revealed himself too much.

“Well, that’s good.”

“It uh, it is?”

Buck was so confused, though Eddie was smiling down to him, delighted as ever.

“It’s perfect, actually. You know the guy who helped me patch up my walls, you know the one who likes to fix things?”

The dopiest smile spread across Buck’s face as he answered Eddie.

“Yea I uh, I think I know him.”

“Good. Because I’ve been meaning to tell him that he should move in. Well, it’s my kid who’s been bugging about it really.”

They were both smiling so much that when Buck pulled Eddie to him, their teeth clanked together before their lips met, neither of them caring in the slightest.

“So, it’s just your kid who’s interested in him, huh?” Eddie shrugged around his hold, bringing his forehead down to rest against Bucks’. “Well as it turns out, I kind of love him too, have for a while now.”

“Y-you love me?”

Eddie reached to pull Buck onto his lap, looking to him wholly.

“Yes Evan, you’re it for me. I love you, even when you send me cheesy facts at one a.m. when you should be sleeping.”

Buck laughed into Eddie as he moved to lay on top of him, Eddie taking his weight on with ease.

“I save the best ones for you Eds, you know, because I love you and all.”

Eddie switched their positions then as he tackled Buck to the bed, hovering over him before pressing the tenderest of kisses to his lips, the desire slowly building between them.

It was a few weeks later when Buck was officially moved into the Diaz house, boxes of his things spread all about. As Buck dug through one box, he was suddenly backed into another, Eddie snaking his arms around him, those long of his fingers scratching at the back of Buck’s next.

“There’s one more thing, before we make if official, I mean.”

Buck couldn’t guess what he was hinting at; he’d had a key to Eddie’s house for years.

“Ok, and uh, what would that be?”

Eddie gave him a bit of a cheeky grin before bringing him in for a sweet kiss, lingering his lips there afterwards.

“Do you wanna be my seahorse?”

Buck couldn’t help but to get teary eyed, immediately nodding into Eddie.

“You guys are so weird.”

They both turned to see Chris watching them from the doorway of his room, scrunching up his nose in mock-disgust.

Eddie hugged him tighter, Buck answering for them both.

“Better get used to it bud. I’m here to stay.”

Chris only smiled, throwing out a few words before heading back into his room.

“Good. I don’t like when you leave.”

Yep, that was gonna do it.

His eyes watered once more, Buck sniffling as he went, Eddie not fairing much better.

“Better get it together before our kid see’s and chastises us again.”

The Diaz boys really knew how to make a guy emotional.

As he laid in bed that night, waiting for Eddie to get off shift, he didn’t feel so alone. Chris was just down the hall, the familiar hums and creaks of the house comforting Buck. The lingering scent of Eddie was all around him, wrapping him in a hug as if Eddie himself was there. Even tonight, when he wasn’t quite ready to sleep, he felt relaxed, knowing he was home.

Home wasn’t a place, but rather a feeling, Buck never feeling it more than when he was with Eddie, right where he belonged.

tags: @buddiextarlos @swiftiediaz @mansikkaomenabanaani @confetti-cupcake @chimneymistergayhan @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @loveyourownsmiilee @corgiqueen14 @justsmilestuffhappens @prettyboyandthekid @honestlydarkprincess @zainclaw @reallysmartladymariecurie @djdangerlove @constructiononqueersunset @love-buddie @bifirefighters @blaidddrwg1982 @mr-and-mr-diaz @buddierights @crazyfangirlallert @imsupposedtobewritting @ekstasisandqueerangst @acediaz

#buckweek2022 #day 1 #where have you been?#evan buckley the loml <3 #buddie #buddie fic #buckley siblings #evan ‘buck’ buckley #eddie diaz #maddie buckley #established relationship #late night conversations #fluff #tenderness #bisexual buck my beloved #kel writes #read on ao3

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dinogoose · 2 years

Text

you put me on (and said I was your favorite)

“Eddie, us getting a divorce was not a failure. It was two people realizing they are better apart. And we are! You said it yourself, you feel happier.” She gestures to him, waiting for a sign he’s listening.

“Yeah but I-“

“No.” She cuts him off, “Love is terrifying, and heavy, and honestly makes living harder, but and that’s a big but,” Eddie snorts, she ignores him. “It’s worth it. I promise you that, and you have this great thing in front of you. So please, for me, for Christopher, for yourself, tell Buck you love him.”

(or shannon lives, eddie and her are the best co-parents, and eddie loves buck)

Every Sunday Eddie and Shannon go out for lunch, while Chris gets some one-on-one time with his Abuela.

They use these lunches to talk about all sorts of things, silly inside-jokes from their childhoods, gushing over Christopher, and occasionally deep secrets. Secrets that take a lot of courage to admit.

A few months ago, her and Eddie were just making small-talk after placing their orders. It was awkward, almost painfully so. Which was very worrying, things hadn’t been this uncomfortable since the divorce dinner.

“Eddie… is there- something wrong?” Shannon asks carefully, not wanting to spook him. He finally meets her eyes still fidgeting with his hands.

“I- Uhm- I need to tell you something.” A million thoughts rushed through Shannon’s mind. Was he taking Christopher away? Was he leaving? Re-enlisting? She takes a deep breath.

“Okay, I’m all ears.” She can’t help the way her voice trembles. She grabs her water and takes a long gulp.

Eddie looks like he’s psyching himself up before he says, “As you know I’ve been going to therapy. Healing, trying to get better for myself.” Shannon nods, she knows this, and is very proud of him. “While I’ve been going… I learned a few things about myself. I- God this is so stupid- I’m gay.” Shannon is just blankly staring at Eddie, as he picks at the table cloth.

Huh. Eddie is gay. Part of her wants to laugh, not to make fun of him, but because this was not what she expected.

Thinking about it though, Eddie being gay isn’t completely out of left field. She’s not about to list a bunch of gay stereotypes he exudes, but more of she can just see it. The way he used to double glance at attractive men. How he never once had a celebrity crush. How utterly close he is to his one coworker.

Oh.

“Thank you for telling me. Not to over-shadow your coming out story, but I’m bisexual.” Eddie laughs, and the tension in his shoulders finally leaves.

After that, they became much closer. No topic was off-limits, no matter how strange or inappropriate.

Today's lunch consisted of them gossiping about everyone, playing rock-paper-scissors to decide who has to attend another child’s birthday party, and strangely enough, discussing their love lives.

Currently (despite Eddie’s protests) it’s his love life they’re talking about now. Or more specifically who they’re talking about now.

“You should do it! Come on, he so clearly loves you. That boy follows you around like a lost puppy.” Shannon says, waving a potato wedge at him to enunciate her point.

“Him ‘following me around like a lost puppy’,” Eddie gestures his fingers into air quotes. “Doesn’t mean he loves me too. So, no, I won’t do it.” He crosses his arms, huffing slightly.

Shannon gives him a very unimpressed look. A part of her does feel guilty, she probably caused this insecurity in him. She knows their divorce hurt Eddie, of course it did, it hurt her too. But, it was the best thing for them. They are better off as friends and co-parents.

Shannon takes a deep breath. “Eddie. You deserve happiness, and I really think telling him could bring you that.”

Eddie sighs, shaking his head, “I can’t Shan. I already had my chance at love, and I failed.”

She blinks slowly at him, contemplating smacking her ex-husband.

“Yeah but I-“

Rolling his eyes, Eddie continues to eat his food, not answering. However, judging from the small smile on his face, Shannon can tell she got through to him.

Eddie has decided, on his own, without any outside influence, to confess to Buck. Just don’t tell Shannon that.

After discussing with Karen, Hen, and even a lightly vague conversation with Bobby, he has decided to do it at home.

He’s going to cook a meal, set up a romantic dinner, and make his big speech. Hopefully Buck doesn’t run screaming for the hills. Not that he ever would. Buck is so incredibly kind, even if he wasn’t interested he would let Eddie down very gently.

But Eddie is about eighty percent sure Buck feels at least something for him. And he likes those odds, so here he is, trying to ask Buck out.

“Buck, hey- uh- do you want to come over for dinner today?” Eddie does his best to maintain eye-contact, but the way Buck looks, shedding his shirt to change into his civvies, is killing him.

Buck smiles, his crow-feet coming out. “Sure! You’ve been getting so good at cooking lately, I’m so proud.” He puts his hand over his heart, batting his eyelashes. Eddie doesn’t know if he wants to hit him or kiss him. Probably kiss him.

“Okay. Cool. I’ll see you at seven?” Buck has a hopeful look pass through his eyes, but it leaves just as quick as it came.

“Yeah- I- Yeah.” Suddenly Buck seems a little nervous, but Eddie brushes it off as projection. He just tells Buck he’ll see him later and heads out.

Oh my god, he did it. He asked Buck out. Now he has to successfully cook a meal without burning it (he’s proud to say his new record is four) and not screw-up his confession.

He’s got this.

He most certainly doesn’t ‘got this’.

His outfit feels wrong, sticking to his body in all the wrong places. The meal just isn’t where he wants it. The table he set feels stupid, and cheesy. To put it all simply, he’s freaking out.

Maybe this was all in awful plan- and execution. Maybe Eddie isn’t deserving of Buck’s love. Of Buck’s soft gazes, gentle touches, his warmth. All the good he exudes. Who is Eddie to try and claim that for himself? He doesn’t deserve that, Eddie-

Ding Dong

Oh shit.

“Coming!” He scrambles away from the table, careful not to knock over any candles. Because a firefighter lighting his house on fire is humiliating, and ironic.

Opening the door, he is greeted by a fantastic looking Buck. He’s wearing jeans that hug his thighs perfectly, a red maroon sweater, and his hair has no product- making it look impossibly soft.

Eddie has to clench his hands to stop from touching him.

“Wow- I mean- come in!” Why is he being so awkward? He has no clue. He steps aside, letting Buck in. Buck looks around then finds Eddie’s eyes looking confused.

“Are you having someone else over?” Eddie just stares at him, now also confused.

“No… just you. Why?” Buck looks away.

“Because of all,” He gestures to the table. “This. It’s just- uh- very romantic.” Buck stuffs his hands into his pockets, drilling a hole into the floor with his eyes.

Eddie comes to a startling realization, Buck doesn’t know this is a date. Eddie almost bursts out laughing.

“Romance was the goal I had in mind. Should we eat?” Eddie can practically hear the cogs turning in Buck’s head. It’s kind of adorable. Eddie pushes out his chair, gesturing to it like a gentleman. This seems to boot Buck back online, as he snorts and sits down.

“So… you were asking me on a date earlier?” Buck asks after Eddie sits down.

“Yes Buck. I’m sorry if it wasn’t clear enough,” He runs a hand through his hair. “I always thought I was pretty obvious with how much I- you know.”

Buck shakes his head, a small fond smile on his face. “I had thought I was being obvious! When you asked me out earlier, I thought I was just looking too deep into things. Hen told me I was being stupid.” Buck laughs and Eddie joins him, reveling in the sound.

“You were being stupid, but you got there.”

They both enjoy the meal, Eddie actually ended up making something delicious. The conversation is just as smooth as always, even with the newly added intimacy, it’s still them. Buck and Eddie.

They’re sitting on the couch a few hours later drinking beers when Buck says,

“I think I started falling in love with you after the earthquake.” He mumbles it into his bottle, but Eddie hears him crystal clear. He turns to him with wide eyes.

“That quick?” In Eddie’s wildest dreams, he had never expected Buck to be in love with him, let alone for that long. Buck just shrugs.

“After the shooting, you were teaching Christopher how to make spaghetti sauce. And man- I just knew. I had been in love with you for a while but that was the moment it finally clicked.” Buck takes his beer and Eddie’s, placing them on the table (on the coasters he bought Eddie). Then he turns his body so he’s fully facing Eddie.

“Eds, are we doing this?” His eyes are bright, full of hope, but bits of insecurity are shining through. Eddie places a hand on Buck’s jaw, attempting to ease his worries.

“If you want to. I think we’re both in good places. I’m back at the 118, I’m going to therapy and I love you so-”

Buck interrupts him with his mouth crashing down onto Eddie’s. Eddie gets with the program pretty quickly, deepening the kiss. Buck’s hands land on Eddie’s hips as he pulls him closer, nearly into his lap. They pull back, panting.

“In case I wasn’t explicitly clear earlier, I love you.” Buck says leaning in to place kisses on Eddie’s jaw. Eddie tilts his head up letting him.

“I love you too. Obviously.” Buck laughs, the air tickling Eddie’s neck.

The night ends beautifully, with Buck giving a speech about wanting to do things correctly, so he leaves with one last filthy kiss.

Eddie cannot believe he gets to have this.

He also can’t believe he has his ex-wife to thank for all of it.

#buddie #buck x eddie #911 show #911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fic #buddie fic #911 fanfic #fanfic #fic #tv: 911 #shannon diaz #buddie 911 #originally posted on ao3

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scribblesforthemad · 2 years

Text

There and Back Again - Part 1

Welcome to my very long Eddie x fem!reader S4 rewrite! I've had a ton of fun writing this, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do.

Many, many thanks to @skyfall8600 whose excellent Sucked In series not only inspired this one, but brought me out of a years-long writing slump! The first few parts of this series are heavily inspired by her work, while diverging more significantly later on. Regardless, I wholeheartedly recommend her work, and thank her for allowing me to use a few of her excellent ideas!

Thanks also to @eddie-sweetheart and @currentlycryingaboutlancelot for their help and support--it's truly appreciated.

series warnings: swearing, misogyny, canon-typical violence, fluff, insecurity; sfw but gets a little ~steamy~ in a couple places

part one warnings: swearing

note: reader is fem and uses she/her pronouns. She's also a singer because this is self-indulgent lol. Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist. Enjoy, and tell me what you think!

At this point, it was pretty safe to say that you were obsessed with Stranger Things.

Sure, you had watched it in 2016 along with everyone else and enjoyed it, keeping up with the release of each season and occasionally theorizing about the show’s future. But all in all, it was a relatively minor part of your life. Hell, it was a relatively minor part of the media you consumed.

Until summer 2022, that is.

The moment you laid eyes on the dark brown curls of Eddie Munson, you knew you were a goddamn goner.

You’d had crushes on fictional characters before, of course—Narnia’s Peter Pevensie had been a particular childhood favorite—but never before had one affected you so deeply. You found yourself daydreaming about life in Hawkins as an escape from your everyday worries, occasionally wishing you could take a swing at a demodog rather than deal with your landlord. You knew these were selfish thoughts; fighting for your life was no laughing matter. But sometimes, when you imagined the deep brown eyes and flyaway curls of a certain metalhead…well. You could only be so strong.

It was after one of those particularly trying days that you walked in the door of your home, dropped your bag on the floor, and trudged to your couch before flopping facedown into the cushions. A low groan escaped your lips, muffled by the worn fabric. God, what a day. Frustration after frustration and problem after problem had left you utterly and completely drained. You wanted only to disappear from your life for a while, to daydream yourself into the arms of Eddie Munson and never wake up.

Nearly whimpering at the motion of your sore muscles, you heaved yourself onto your side and felt for the remote. There was only one show you could count on to distract you after a day like this. Pulling up Netflix, you decided on the end of season three; there was something about the epic Battle of Starcourt that felt just right for your mood. Sighing, you pressed play, not even bothering to watch the screen. You’d seen it so many times at this point, you weren’t even watching it for the story. You just wanted to hear the characters’ voices, to feel the comfort of friendship they provided, imagined as it was. As you drifted off, you smiled as you heard the familiar chatter of Hawkins voices around you, the perfect symphony for sleep.

* * *

The night air was unnaturally cold as you slept, causing you to shiver and pull the blanket above you as you stayed cocooned on the couch. Your whole body started to sweat, the air dry and cold as it sliced into your lungs.

You shifted slightly, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. The couch was old, sure, but now it felt as hard as stone. You frowned and opened your eyes. A confusion of images flashed before you, taking several moments for you to process—rocks. Trees. Cloudy sky.

“What on earth?” you muttered to yourself, rubbing your eyes sleepily. You tried to see between the trees, the soft glow of the sunrise giving more color to your surroundings. Looking around, you began to realize that these were not, in fact, the woods outside your house; there was too little scrub brush here, the trees spaced too widely apart. The air, too, was too cold for August, even in the early morning, and the trees seemed to be bare.

Your breaths became faster and shallower as you started to really panic. You’d never even seen this place before; how on earth had you gotten here? Had you been abducted and drugged? You noticed a nearby path and set off down it, in case there were any potential kidnappers hanging around. You started to hear the sounds of traffic as you continued, growing louder with each step you took. Finally, you emerged onto a city street, but definitely not one you recognized. The cars were all older models—not necessarily unusual, but it was a bit odd not to see one newer sedan or pickup.

You frowned as you noticed a group of rowdy teenagers walking toward you. You knew the eighties were coming back, but wasn’t this taking a bit far? The boys sported full-on mullets and bootcut jeans, the girls with bright eyeshadow and hair that looked burnt to the third degree. Is this some prank I’m not in on? You wondered, staring as they passed. They stared back, raising their eyebrows in cruel appraisal.

“Where’d you get those, the fucking trash?” one girl asked, eyeing your distressed jeans.

“Yeah, screw you too,” you muttered, too freaked out to pay much attention to the insult. You continued walking, hearing the group’s laughter echo behind you. It’s like they’ve never seen distressed jeans before, you thought, shaking your head.

Suddenly, your blood ran cold. The cars. The clothes. The comment…

Your eyes widened, everything you’d noticed in the corner of your eye suddenly taking on a whole new significance. Your chest got tight with anxiety, but you tried to calm it. That’s not possible, Y/N. It’s just an older block and those kids were playing a joke on you. Probably hate anyone wearing anything more than a week out of date—as if the eighties weren’t forty years ago. You shook your head vigorously, trying to put the suspicions out of your mind.

Walking another block and a half, you finally spotted what you’d been subconsciously looking for: a newspaper stand.

“Do you...do you have today’s paper?” you asked the attendant, your throat suddenly dry.

“Here you are, sweetheart,” the old man said, slapping the thick newspaper down on the counter. “February 21st, 1986. One dollar, please.”

You started at the paper, your eyes refusing to process the words on the page. You could see the shapes of the letters, could distinguish between the black ink and white paper, but you couldn’t resolve the images into meaningful shapes—at least, not ones that made any sense.

The paper read, FEBRUARY 21, 1986 – HAWKINS POST.

Hawkins Post. 1986. Hawkins. Your face grew as pale as the newsprint, the attendant frowning at your expression.

“You that interested in the factory strike, hon?” He asked, nodding to the headline.

“Uh…my father works there,” you say quickly, your mind racing. “Sorry, but I’ve got to go—thanks for showing me!”

You walked briskly away from the stand, head reeling as the attendant shook his head, muttering something about non-paying customers.

This can’t be real. I’m in Hawkins, Indiana—a town which does not exist—and it’s 1986, over a decade before I was even born. You had to be dreaming, you decided. That was the only explanation that made sense. But even as you thought it, you knew in your gut it wasn’t true. You were too aware of your body, the cold chill of winter air on your face, your heart hammering in your chest. No, this was reality, as impossible as it seemed.

People stared as you walked past, though you were too wrapped up in panic to take much notice. You stood out amongst the eighties-clad citizens: torn jeans, mushroom t-shirt, leather jacket. How the fuck had this happened?

Your thoughts spiraled as you walked, dazed and unsure of what to do. Where could you go? It’s not like you knew anyone here—not really knew, and besides, you didn’t know where anything was, much less how to get there.

Your thoughts were forcibly interrupted when someone crashed into you.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” a gentle male voice said, offering you a hand as you picked yourself up.

“It was my fault, I wan’t—” You stopped abruptly when you saw who had run into you. “Mr. Clark?” you asked, incredulous.

“That’s me,” he said, an uncertain smile on his face. “Do I know you?”

You just gaped at him, unable to believe what you were seeing. It’s real. I’m really here, you thought, flabbergasted.

“I, um,” you stammered, trying to think of a reasonable explanation. “I’m—Dustin’s cousin!” you nearly shouted as it came to you. “He’s talked a lot about you.”

Mr. Clark’s smile became genuine as you spoke.

“Ah, young Henderson,” he said, raising his eyes to heaven. “A smart young man, that one. But a little too eager for adventure, if you ask me.” You laughed.

“I couldn’t agree more,” you said. “Any idea where I could find him right now? It’s, um, a surprise visit,” you added as Mr. Clark’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“I would hope he’s at the high school,” he said, frowning, “Seeing as it’s ten o’clock on a Friday morning. I’m just out on a coffee run myself,” he said, gesturing to the drink carrier in his hand. Shit. Of course he’s at school, you thought, cursing yourself silently. “I believe Mr. Harrington picks him up, though, if you’d like to be there when Dustin gets out. He works over at Family Video,” Mr. Clark said, indicating the direction he had come from.

Steve and Robin! Perfect!

“Would you mind giving me directions to Family Video?” you asked in the “teacher’s pet” voice that had gotten you through high school and college. “I’d like to see my cousin as soon as possible,” you added, flashing Mr. Clark a brilliant smile.

“Not at all!” he said, the epitome of good manners. “It’s down three blocks, then take a left on Hoover Circle—you can’t miss it.”

“Thank you so much,” you said sincerely, gratitude filling you down to the tips of your toes. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

Mr. Clark looked at you, a little curious as to the extremity of your reaction to some simple directions.

“No problem,” he said finally, too polite to mention it. “Tell Dustin I say hello!”

“Will do!” you called back, already walking toward Family Video with all the speed you could muster.

A destination. Finally.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson/you #eddie munson/reader #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #st4 #st4 rewrite #sfw #sfw fic #lucy's there and back again

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hansolmates · 4 years

Text

a hero’s journey (m)

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

prompt used: “I should’ve known.”

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

It’s so easy to ignore the world.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe a little too well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wow. So that explains everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Understandable.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But honestly? Fuck Jisoo.

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

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

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

“Sounds good, thanks Joonie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nevermind, get out of my apartment.”

“Uh, this is my apartment.”

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

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

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

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

“Remember Jeon Jungkook? Majored in graphic design.”

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

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

A pause. And then, “Want a beer?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re running away.”

“Am not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, yeah.”

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

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

“You miss her?”

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

“Did you talk about it?”

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

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

“And are you trying to get over him?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

“But it works!”

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

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

“Bumble.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or are you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? I can pay for my own food—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I allowed to state my opinion?”

“Since you asked so politely, no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, he’s your fuck buddy then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Namjoon holds out his hand, “Hand.”

“No—”

“Hand.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pizza also sounds good—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do I want to know?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m home, Jungkookie!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

vernie bernie: or a tickle to my pickle?

vernie bernie: beatin ya bean?

You: ohmyGOD

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

You: call. Ill come after dinner

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey Pretty Girl–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only recently,” you frown.

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

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

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

“Because I wanted to protect you!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you still love him?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey Pretty Girl—

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

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

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

Hopefully yours, Jungkook

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’cha got there, partner?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey Pretty Boy...

Jungkook and Jisoo are no longer together, evidently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi: come inside, u loser.

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

You: dw i’ll wait, it’s only 11:50

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—coming along?”

“Wha?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mean by what?”

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

“Well, we’re here now, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook,” you whine, “read mine.”

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

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

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

“I’m on page eighty-three.”

You speed up the process like an impatient child, leaning over to brush the pages to the desired spread. You even dog-earred it, a habit that drives Jungkook crazy as he immediately fiddles to iron out the crease.

“Are you gonna read it to me too, mom?” he teases.

“Okay fine! I’ll be quiet, but don’t take too long.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Eyes fluttering, you let Jungkook take his time to absorb your piece. A roommate by any other (rude) name: the lost letter. A cheesy, gimmicky title that Victoria insisted upon that you had no choice but relent to. The rest of the spread thankfully has a very authentic edge to it, your story laced with photos of you and Jungkook, your internship with Vernon, and most importantly, a scan of the lavender letter that got left in the past.

Jungkook’s not silent through his read-through, either. He laughs at all the right parts, fueling your ego as his smile grows at your favorite lines. While he doesn’t directly engage in conversation, his positive energy is enough for you to make you feel like you’ve done your job right. It’s one thing to write about unknown celebrities and unnamed artists, but for people like Jungkook, the validation is personal.

“It’s beautiful,” Jungkook says when he’s read it thrice through, running his thumb over a picture of you. “Really organic. Really, real.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he chuckles, having run out of adverbs. “It’s funny, too. I liked your little internal monologue. I wish I knew how you felt back then.”

“I wish you did, too.”

You’re quietly munching on a strawberry, looking over a polaroid Jungkook took. It was sometime in the beginning of senior year, where you’ve fallen asleep on his mattress, drool drying on your mouth. Normally you’d be opposed to having such unflattering, grainy pictures amongst your writing, but it encapsulates the youth you’ve tried so hard to chase away.

“How do you feel?” Jungkook says, switching out the magazine for the plate of fruit, placing it on his side.

“Feel great, actually,” you muse, smiling to yourself. By no means are you a hero writing some grand gesture in an entertainment magazine, but you feel like you’ve saved yourself. You’ve savored your youth in four thousand words, cutting out the poison and keeping the moment as sweet as it can be.

“I’m proud of you,” he reaches to ruffle your hair, and you don’t even get mad when it tousles out of your pinned style.

Reveling in the attention, you simply close your eyes and feed yourself a handful of blueberries.

“Love that I make money, but I definitely miss college from time to time,” Jungkook stretches, jostling you out of your comfortable position. “Like I remember Taehyung and I would take turns bringing backpacks to the dining hall so we could stuff fruit in it for later.”

“Yeah, but as much as I loved college I wouldn’t go back,” you nod to yourself, “I’m happy where I am now.”

“What about when we stayed up for midnight breakfast? The dining hall was filled to the brim with food. Remember when I tried to eat a whole stack of pancakes?”

“Jungkook…”

“Or when our classes got cancelled and we went to Lotte World? You ate way too much funnel cake and I had to carry you to the car!”

“Jungkook—”

“And that one time we snuck out to the music hall’s rooftop?” words gush out of Jungkook’s mouth like a waterfall, unable to relent, “that’s when I realized I liked you. I liked you so much, I tried to tell you that night but choked—”

“Jungkook!” and he immediately zips up, frowning. You straighten up, on your knees as you reach over to run your hands through his onyx tresses, moving the styled strands to the back of his pierced ears, “Jungkook,” you repeat softly, “I’ve heard all these stories, I was there for most of them. As much as I love the past… can we talk about something else?” you give him a small, tentative smile to show him you’re not mad, but a little uncomfortable at his reminiscing.

He leans into your touch, pressing your palm against the soft swell of his warm cheek. “Okay,” he agrees, resting one hand on your thigh.

You’re roped in his gaze, and you have to force yourself to breathe when Jungkook moves closer to you. He hooks a leg behind his back, and another across his lap. A cool breeze kisses your inner thighs when your skirt exposes your cotton underwear. You should be embarrassed but instead you’re fixated, unable to understand what he’s trying to accomplish.

“Then I’m gonna talk about the future,” Jungkook traps you between the couch, his thumb running hot circles to where your skirt has hiked up. It exposes a slip of the thigh that Jungkook has seen a million times. He’s seen you walking around your apartment in a large shirt, ridden up to your boyshorts. It’s different now, you feel exposed and tingly, thrumming with excitement. “I like you, obviously anticipated news and old news. I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to go on dates with you, re-watch Avatar, grumble when I force you to come to the gym with me,” he bumps noses with you when you scrunch yours, “I wanna be with you. Heck, I’ve even cleared space in my spare room so you’d have closet space for all your fancy designer suits if you ever need it.”

“You cleared space?” you manage to choke out. Visions of a shared apartment roll through your brain. Cooking meals together, having two toothbrushes side by side, and waking up to his face.

“Of course I did. Do you know how financially attractive you are?” he says lightheartedly, “you’re a sexy working woman and it’s crazy to imagine you’d want to settle for me and my little apartment. But I have to try now because if I don’t, it’ll be too late.”

“That’s not true,” you retort, “you’re not someone I’d settle for. I want you, and no one else.”

He chuckles, running a thumb over your cheek. “Then what are we waiting for? Your key’s hiding under the mat.”

“Jungkook…” on the tip of your tongue lays the words you’re going too fast but it doesn’t make its way to the air.

“But do you really think it’s too fast?” he reads your face clearly, “these feelings never went anywhere. They were locked away, sure. And I loved her,” he can’t even say the name, not when you’re warm and flush against him, “but I loved our friendship more.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you breathe, letting the cogs in your brain roll until sparks develop.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he concedes, “I just wanted to let you know. Could’ve done the letter thing all over again and let the past repeat itself. I know Namjoon wouldn’t hide a love letter for two years, but if I left another damn letter he’d definitely make a copy and tease me about it.”

You snort, pressing your forehead to his. You’re practically buried in the couch now, tingly and vibrating with happiness. “And I’m not going to leave you hanging. I do want to say something,” and he looks at you expectantly, licking the leftover berry juice on his lips, nearly making you miss your train of thought, “I like you too,” you say, the other L-word is also applicable, but you feel like that phrase is reserved for another time, “I want to show you off on work vacations, bring you along as my date and show them you’re my muse,” you confess, “I wanna play video games with you ‘till 2AM, and eat ice cream in the comfort of our apartment instead of our cars because we’re too stubborn to admit we don’t wanna go home without each other.”

Jungkook absolutely preens at the affection, sending you a heart melting smile that has your stomach doing backflips.

“Jungkook, I want to fall in love with you again.”

Your squeal of surprise is swallowed by Jungkook’s lips, tasting of mangoes and berries as strong hands cup your backside, easily lifting you onto his lap. You plop under his strong thighs, feeling them flex against yours. The both of you are pouring in this kiss, raining with promises and hopes for a future with each other. His taste is concentrated, and you can feel the devotion practically injected in his embrace.

When he pulls away his lips are cherry-red and shiny, looking up at you through clear coffee eyes. “This isn’t a dream, right?” he looks at you up and down, unable to decipher fact from fiction, “because I distinctly remember two wet dreams that involve you looking like this.”

Looking down, you heat at the disarray you’re in. Hair wild and parted in different wavelengths, tired of the day’s efforts. Your slightly sheer dress-shirt is rumpled, the lace collar opened with two popped buttons revealing your cleavage, and your skirt is stretched so tight that it’s ruched all the way up your thighs. Sprawled across Jungkook’s lap, you’re dangerously close to something long and hard.

Emboldened, you clutch at Jungkook’s collar, pulling him closer.

“Show me what happens in your dream,” you whisper into his ear, barely brushing your clothed core against his crotch, “maybe we can make it come true tonight.”

You can’t see his face, but you feel something dark and sensual overtake him. The grip on your ass tightens, a delicious pain that has you pressing your breasts against him and nipping on his ear, your tongue darting sensually through the cold silver hoops that dart through his skin.

Within seconds, he rips you away from his neck and demands, “Open.”

Dazed, you barely get a centimeter of your mouth open when Jungkook presses something cold and sugary against your lips. Whipped cream. You manage to take a small bite of the tart strawberry that he holds by the viridian stem, rolling the flavor between your mouth as Jungkook paints the leftover whipped cream over your lips. Once he’s satisfied he then creates a white trail that leads to your cleavage.

Better than any dream, his eyes drink you in like the last glass of water in a desert. Your lips are swollen and parted like a baby kitten, covered in the creamy confection. “So pretty,” he exhales, his hot tongue licking from your cleavage to your lips, swallowing the flavor of you and strawberry juice, “such a pretty girl you are, and all mine.”

“Yours,” you submit easily, rolling your hips against his.

At that moment you think you’re meant to fall in love this way. You can’t imagine the shy, fumbly Jungkook and your equally confused self waltzing around a relationship when you barely had your lives together. The two of you still had growing to do. The wait is certainly worth it, because as you feel his arms tighten around you, you’re sure this love will stay strong.

It’s difficult for you to find a rhythm at first, what with Jungkook’s strength and need to be satiated, both of you are sloppy but the friction is nothing less than delicious. Your finger reaches over to swipe at the leftover cream on the plate, and you press your finger to Jungkook’s mouth, and he immediately complies. A dollop of sweet cream leaks out of his lips and your panties dampen further when you feel his tongue lick you clean, imagaining how good it would feel if it was your pussy he was licking.

Your mouth waters at the feeling of his dick lining up against your core, as sticky as the strawberry juice that clings to your bodies.

“C-can I make a confession? I—oh, Jungkook…” your mind is all fuzzed up when he snaps his hips against yours, causing you to shamelessly bounce on his length.

“Yeah?”

“I… I like it when you use all your strength like that,” his hips slow as your words sink in, but you don’t mind as it gives you time to make a long drag along the entirety of his member. “Everytime you pull me up when I trip, or you come back from a workout, I like it when you carry me around like I weigh nothing.”

“Do—do you think about it a lot?” he grunts, and you stifle a moan when he does a slow, hard drag against your wet folds. “Tell the truth.”

“It’s, it’s embarrassing,” you whimper, unable to think straight with the amount of stimuli you’re receiving.

“Please, baby.”

“Yes mm—oh! I do,” you try to get the words out as quickly as you can. He stops moving, and you groan in frustration so you just lay it all out on the table. “I, I love it when you hold me in your strong arms. And, ah, uh w-henever you come back from the gym you just look so sexy fresh from the shower. Sometimes I think about how you’re too damn nice for your own good but I bet you’d be so rough in bed.”

“Really?” and then he’s shoving you onto the couch, air brushing against your bare thighs as your back hits the beige throw pillows. He’s hovering, dark eyes starting from the tip of your toes to your damp lips. “You like it when I manhandle you? Throw you around like a little doll?”

“All that strength, and for what?” you try to keep your snappy remarks in check, but it’s hard when he’s pressing his straining dick against your thigh, weeping and needy.

“You’re not gonna be joking about my strength anytime soon, baby,” emblazoned, he easily throws your leg over his shoulder, pushing your panties to the side to let your wetness leak out and onto his fingers, “are you gonna complain or be a good girl?”

“Yes, I’m ah—” you wince when he inserts a finger, “I’ll be good for you,”

“My good girl,” he revels in the way you melt under his touch, your previous sarcasm quickly dissolving into a puddle. You always had an inkling that Jungkook would be a sneaky fox in bed, all that muscle hidden behind a kind smile and a penchant for tea with milk and honey.

Jungkook slips in another finger, stretching you and preparing you for what’s to come. He’s scissoring you at a sensible pace that has you squirming and wanting more. To prevent you from shimmying off the couch he holds you down with his free hand, and you love the way he practically feeds you to the couch, hands dancing over your neck as he shoves you further into the furniture.

“You look so gorgeous,” he says, causing you to moan and keen at his attention, “you’re such a strong, gorgeous woman. Having you sprawled out like this, ready to do whatever I want to you is so fucking hot.”

“I’m—I’m only weak for you Jungkook,” you say honestly, tears pricking when he dips another finger. The stretch burns deliciously, and your folds eagerly swallow him up until you’re filled to the brim. Your fingers or toys cannot compare to flesh, and you sigh in relief when you see his inked fingers pick up the pace once more.

“You’re damn right,” Jungkook husks, and with a grain of love he murmurs in your ear, “I’m only weak for you, too.”

And that’s when he snaps, thumb rolling against your bud as he slams his other fingers against you, going at a brutal pace. You cry out, not caring whether his neighbors hear as he pulls you back and forth through pleasure and pain.

“T-too much, Kookie,” you mewl, your hand warbling to find his, “I, ah, ‘m gonna cum!”

“That’s the plan,” he only goes faster, stretching your band further and further before your desired high is reached. His hand trails up to force your chin straight, looking up at him, “let go for me, baby. Wanna feel your pussy clench around my fingers.”

In seconds, you gush. It has you in a slight panic, drunk on endorphins as you try to lift your head up but Jungkook’s hand is firmly pressing you on your shoulder as he fingers you efficiently through your high, the wet squelching sounds only increasing with your cries. His lap is drenched in your arousal, along with his chin and lips glistening with your essence.

He finally releases you when you’re practically shaking, his hands sticky and creamy. You moan when he shamelessly licks them within your view, making sure to wrap his tongue around his ink-stained digits.

“I,” your mouth is dry when you feel the dampness that hits your bottom, “I’ve never, I don’t remember ever—”

Your babbles are lost between your throat and Jungkook’s tongue, shoved deep into your mouth. Tasting your arousal has you practically vibrating in your place, as you two rut against each other like hungry bunnies.

“God, you’re amazing,” he says between pecks, kissing away your face of any tears you may have pricked, “Amazing, adorable, absolutely beautifulIadoreyousoso—”

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you press your hips up, wiggling for more attention, “please fuck me, Jungkook.”

You can’t help the witchy, satisfied smile when Jungkook’s eyes darken to a thick coal, “Anything for you,” he murmurs, swinging your legs between his arms as he lifts you like a feather.

On his lap again, you soon accept that the way you two mesh like puzzle pieces is one of your favorite positions as it gives you both equal space to ravish each other.

Just when your hand trails to the waistband of his boxer briefs and you’re rolling your thumb over its collected moisture, the moment is shattered when the doorbell rings. You jump in his arms, unprepared for your moment to be interrupted.

He groans into the crown of your hair, and you soften in his relaxed hold, “I ordered us pizza,” he nearly forgot.

Perking your head up to look at him you regard him innocently, as if you didn’t release a waterfall on his sweats two seconds ago. “You got us pizza?”

“I knew you’d be coming over tonight,” he’s pouting into your neck, regretting ever having called the pizza guy if he knew this would happen, “Victoria posted the publish date on Twitter. I just didn’t think,” he gestures vaguely to the mess on his pants, “this would happen.”

“Damn, and here I thought I was being sneaky,” you chuckle, flicking his ear playfully.

He gives you an uncharacteristically subby whine, shamelessly upset he has to let you go so fast after he’s given you your first of many highs. Before he weakens further under your beauty, he unceremoniously shoves you off. “Sorry, pretty girl,” you melt at the easy way his pet name rolls off his lips, “can you wait in my room for a bit so I can pay the delivery guy? I don’t want them to see you like this.”

“But I want to eat pizza,” you declare stubbornly, standing up to button your blouse and pull down your skirt.

Before you could fasten one button or pull down one centimeter, his hand darts out to snatch your wrist away from your body. It doesn’t hurt much, but it causes your body to heat in more places than one. He’s sexy like this, demanding your attention. “No,” he rumbles definitively, “my room. Now.”

“Why?” you throw your hands in the air, yelping when he slaps your ass. He makes sure to make it sting, cupping you fully.

“Because,” he says firmly, “you don’t get to eat until I eat,” you whimper when his hand reaches to cup your sex, panties wet and cold without his warmth as he pushes you in the direction of his bedroom.

Oh, you can’t wait for both of you to eat tonight.

some time later.

“Ohmygod the view is beautiful!” Krystal, who works in advertisement, squeals. “No filter needed!”

“Alright alright, make room Princess,” Namjoon teases. With a bump to Krystal’s tiny hips Namjoon shoves you two across the pavilion, putting his arm around you once he finds the perfect angle, “Umji, can you get a pic of me and my Work Wife? I want this on the Big Hit Instagram!”

You hold your straw sunhat down from the salty wind, smiling beautifully as Umji takes multiple pictures of you and Namjoon from her Nikon. Another successful year under your notch, ending with a successful work retreat.

“Namjoon, can I take a picture with my actual wife now?”

“We’re not married, Jungkook,” you chastise, patting the chest of Namjoon’s floral printed Hawaiian shirt so he can switch. Instantly, Jungkook slides up next to you like a picture perfect stock model piece, and you wrap your arms around his trim waist, “we’re not even engaged.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he pouts, looking over the pavilion and adjusting the both of you so there’s a good amount of you and the resort in the background. The sun may be scathingly hot, but it looks beautiful perched over the crystal clear waters. “Namjoon, you got it easy,” Jungkook says when he hands him your phone, “every angle is our good angle, so you can’t mess it up.”

Being the honest man he is, Namjoon knows better and doesn’t say anything to that. Instead he shoots down whatever pineapple-flavored concoction is offered to him on a silver platter, and starts shooting.

“Is this swimsuit new?” Jungkook murmurs into your ear between shots, flicking your little red number by the strap connecting the back, “because I didn’t see this in the luggage.”

You smile big, pearly whites as Namjoon demands to pop out your butt and work it, pressing your body closer to Jungkook’s. “Tiny enough so I could hide it in my purse,” you reply proudly, voice low for only each other’s ears, “why, surprised?”

“Definitely not prepared,” his fingers dig deliciously in your bare flesh, “would Victoria fire you if she catches us doing it in the cabana?”

Amused that your boyfriend now shares your combined awe and fear of your boss, you twist his nipple lightly. He yelps, and from Namjoon’s guaff he’s definitely got that on camera. “We didn’t come to Boracay to fuck in the cabana.”

“Then the hotel room?”

Namjoon hands you back your phone when he considers his job done, letting you and Jungkook have some alone time. You wave your phone in his face, trying to get him to focus on the task at hand. You wanted to post some cute pictures of you and your boyfriend, one to impress the family back home and the Big Hit interns back in Seoul who are absolutely pining for your position.

“Jungkook, they have the water ski thing where you can flip in the water mid air! Doesn’t that sound fun? Or we can go scuba diving, have Filipino food, or get massages. LIterally, we’re on Big Hit’s dime, and the first thing you want to do is go back to the room?”

“Yes,” he pouts petulantly, leaning into the hollow of your ear and whispering, “got a chub on.”

Discreetly so, your hands brush against his navy trunks and you note yes, he’s half hard. “No!” you shake your head definitively, pushing him out of your arms. You’re not letting sex get in the way of your hard-earned vacation, you’re on company dime and you intend to milk every peso of it. “Namjoon, take him away!”

You blow him a kiss and follow another group who’s decided to go eat, watching your boyfriend get dragged away by Namjoon’s long arms. Krystal, who’s been mildly watching the whole ordeal in-between taking selfies, looks at you in awe, “You got it good, bosslady,” she says, and you happily link arms with her in the direction of the restaurants.

You and Jungkook definitely have it good. You don’t see him until dinnertime, looking utterly relaxed as he sips on a mango-muddled concoction. He must’ve gotten a couples massage with Namjoon, cute. Splitting up was definitely a good idea, by the time your meal arrives the two of you are practically leaning against each other, telling each other what events you need to do tomorrow and events you think will be fun to do together.

“Joon,” Jungkook is throwing an arm over your Wusband’s shoulder, mildly tipsy. The image is adorable, as Jungkook long ago previously confessed that he felt a little jealous of Namjoon’s work relationship with you before you were dating. Now, it feels like they’re best friends and you’re third-wheeling. “What do you think about having halo-halo tomorrow? It’s like bingsu but with a bunch of other good stuffs. There’s red bean, mango, ube, ice cream…”

Just as Jungkook begins his tirade of dessert ingredients, you pull up your phone to check on your social media. You smile back at your profile, seeing your latest Instagram post at the very top of the feed. Not to flex, but the two of you look pretty smokin’ since you’ve been keeping up with Jungkook’s insistence to join him at the gym. Jungkook and you are leaning against the pristine veranda, overlooking the clear blue water and a cloudless sky. The smiles you two sport are genuine and utterly in love.

You scroll down the comments, most of them filled with sweet messages but one of them has you doing a double take.

@sooyaaa__: 😒😒😒 knew something was goin on behind my back… good riddance

The smell of Jungkook’s detergent overtakes your nostrils, and you turn to him. He’s stopped talking, now immersed in whatever’s going on in your phone.

“The nerve of her,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, disgusted at her latest comment. “As if anyone would believe her.”

“Yeah,” you echo, “I feel bad for her, though. She’s probably lonely.”

“Her loss, she put this upon herself. Not us.”

You pout, “I know, but she was my friend at one point.”

He frowns, putting an arm behind your backrest. It would be easy for him to say yeah, and she was my girlfriend and one-up you, leaving it at that. But now he knows better, and that friendship is a much better value than an ill-fated relationship. “Sorry baby,” it’s not his fault, but he sees your disappointment in putting out hope for an old friend. He gives you a little smooch on your temple, “do you miss her?”

“The old her, yeah,” you sigh, clicking on her profile, “but now? I can do without her negativity.”

“Okay,” he takes your phone from your hand, “have you ever blocked a person before?”

“No.”

“Well, today’s the day,” he says it so coolly, you barely have time to think when he clicks the ‘block’ button on Jisoo’s profile, then clicking off his phone to put in his pocket. “No more phone for today,” he proceeds to take your plate that was recently served, taking the time to cut your large vegetables into smaller portions. “Like you said, we shouldn’t waste your vacation time.”

Your heart swells with butterflies for Jeon Jungkook, who’s meticulously cutting your food and telling you to relax and stop dwelling on the past. He’s right, if Jisoo’s not going to stick around for the future and continue to cause negativity in your life, why not keep the positives in the past while it lasted?

“You know I love you, right?”

He ceases cutting, and looks at you to pop a sweet potato in his mouth. “Love me enough to do it in the cabana?”

He’s still on that? “Jungkook,” you warn, pretending to get up, “forget I said anything. I’m gonna go karaoke with Umji.”

“Kiddingggg,” he whines, pulling you back down with an outstretched hand, “you know I love you too.”

“You’re terrible.”

“Only this way because I’d know you’d totally be into cabana sex if we were vacationing by ourselves.”

“Yes, but you’re still terrible,” you giggle when Jungkook steals a kiss, just as easy as he’s stolen your heart.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #gcn23 #goldenclosetnet #btsghostie #jungkook fic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts fic #bts smut #a big weight is off my shoulders

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